Mr. Kim's Wild Ride

by
Darrel W. Beach
Jan, 1997


Chapter 9

        To Harry, the fight seemed to last for nearly an eternity, although
in reality it was waged in less than ten minutes.
        The hardest part of the battle had been getting his opponent to
dismount: he figured his chances of victory were greater if they were both on
equal footing.  The burly bandit attempted several rushes, each one nearly
knocking the ensign flat on his back from the force of impact resistance.  At
each clangour of steel Weq would erupt with a barrage of jeers aimed at Harry
or shouts of encouragement to his comrade.  The traveler watched in silence,
quailing at each blow.  This continued for several minutes, until Harry
figured out the timing of his opponent's charges.
        On the next pass he was able to dodge the man's attack, dropping to
his knees, and retaliated with a swift glancing shot at the v'shil's flank.
The animal, not appreciating the assault, reared suddenly.  The rider, off-
balance from his own strike, was easily sent flying from his saddle.  He hit
the ground hard, forcing the weapon from his hand and sending it skittering
away.  The bandit was severely winded from the impact of the fall.  His
mount, however, decided it had had enough and sprinted off down the road.
        Harry slowly picked himself up off the ground and walked over to his
fallen opponent.  He picked up the weapon and tossed it into the bushes,
making sure the man had no opportunity to reclaim it.  Then he knelt down and
yanked the man up roughly by his collar and pressed his sword under the man's
chin.
        "I suggest you and your friend get lost for a long while," Harry
growled.  "And if I ever see you again, you'll a lot more than your horse."
        He withdrew his sword and pushed the man away in the same motion,
then stood up and walked over to the traveler.  Weq scurried over to attend
to his partner, but kept his attention focused more on Harry, as if to ward
off a blind ambush.  It seemed to matter little, however, as the tired old
wagon resumed its course down the dusty road, carrying with it more payload
that what it had started out that morning.

        "Many thanks, brave sir," lauded the wagoner.  "If not for you, I
dare not say how much peril to which my life would have been subjected."
        Harry flushed with embarrassment, unused to such high praise.  "I
just saw a person who needed help.  It's part of my job to help people in
trouble. Genghis Kim, at your service."
        "Stefik Jorece," Stefik returned, shaking Harry's hand, then gestured
to the animal pulling the cart, "and this is Casha."
        Harry couldn't help but smirk at the farmer's personification of the
steer.  "A pleasure to meet you, Casha."  The rh'vasi grunted as if aware it
was being addressed.  "So, Stefik, any idea when we'll reach Boltec?"
        He glanced up at the sky.  "Well, I think we should still be able to
make it to the sentry before sun sets, thankfully.  Finding a room becomes
more difficult once dusk falls."
        The conversation lapsed into silence for a few minutes.  Stefik
scrutinized the face of his passenger, trying to figure out his place of
origin and failing terribly.  Stefik was not a well-traveled individual, but
he was not ignorant enough to not recognize the fact that Genghis Kim was not
a local.  He didn't have any the markings common to the people he knew.  "If
you don't mind my asking, Genghis, you're not from around here, are you?"
        Harry had leaned back in his seat and drunk in the scenery around
him. He closed his eyes and sighed in contentment as a soft breeze washed
against his sweaty face.  "It's a long story, Stefik."
        Stefik regarded his passenger with some curiosity.  "Then no doubt
it's worth telling.  We still have a long trip ahead of us, you know."
        Harry grinned.  "This begins with 'The Tale of The Voyagers'...."

        By the time they had reached Boltec, Stefik was as wrapped up in
Harry's yarns as T'Lissa had been.  Whatever esteem he held for his traveling
partner had increased by orders of magnitude when they finally passed the
city gate.  He had even sworn an oath to keep an eye out for Harry's
compatriots and direct them toward Boltec.  Harry didn't bother discouraging
him, though.  /He'll probably lose interest and forget about it within a week
anyway./
        Their trip ended at the Dragon Horn Inn, Stefik's usual lodging.  The
innkeeper, though - much to Stefik's chagrin - had no other rooms to let
Harry, which he admitted was an infrequent occurrence.  He did, however,
kindly suggest a few other places where the ensign could find a night's stay.
No doubt Stefik planned to show off his new friend to the other residents
over a mug of ale, but he would have to settle with telling the stories
instead. Harry wished him a pleasant evening and a successful day at the
market should they fail to meet again, then set to the streets in search of a
room for the night.
        The sky had shifted from a brilliant red to a mixture of dull orange
and chartreuse.  The lamp-lighters were out in full force with their torches,
scuttling about while there was enough light to keep out of the way of other
street traffic, although it had thinned out considerably in the last hour.
Many shops were in the process of being locked up for the night; few others
remained open to cater to the evening crowds.  The stone and mortar buildings
impressed Harry o how remarkably well the Xausans had preserved these
structures so far into their future - his present.
        Harry found himself railroaded by his train of thought.  He really
wanted to be back at home, or on Voyager - just anywhere but here.  It had
been fun for a while, but now he was just tired of being here.  He missed his
friend - even Tom, despite his resolve never to speak to him again.  He
missed Captain Janeway.  He missed his parents.  And he missed Libby most of
all.
        He wondered when Q was planning to send him back.  Did Q have any
intention of returning him, ever?  The Q's concept of time was vastly
different from his own; he could be stuck here on Xausa Three for the rest of
his natural life.  Harry couldn't stand the thought of that.  *At least I
wouldn't have to marry Celin* he thought in morbid humour.  Unfortunately,
that didn't cheer him up much.
        The idea of being stranded on this planet finally drove home the
realization that Harry would probably never see his girlfriend ever again.
And as Tom had said, she had likely moved on with her life, believing him
dead.  Only now he would be, dead for countless centuries, on a world 65,000+
light years from Earth.
        Now Harry felt totally guilty for the way he had treated Tom.  The
rakish pilot had honestly been trying to help him face reality, and he'd
returned the favor by slighting his existence.  He hoped Tom would forgive
his behavior, if he ever made it back to apologize.
        "Hey!  Watch where you're going!"
        Harry suddenly snapped alert, now just aware of having walked into a
pedestrian in front of him.  So preoccupied was he that he had neglected to
pay attention to where he was going.  "Oh, sorry about that," he apologized.
"Are you okay?"
        The person whom he had nearly run over didn't seem impressed with the
sudden courtesy.  "Idiot," she muttered, continuing her pace.
        Harry watched her walk away when a hanging sign above one of the shop
doors caught his eye.  The lamppost gave off just enough light to highlight
the words on the placard: The Kourat's Nest, one the establishments
recommended by the owner of the Dragon Horn.  He entered, hoping to get a
room and a hot meal.
        He wasn't disappointed either.  The manager still had a few rooms
left, and the food, while not as exotic as the dishes Prince Gaav had
presented the away team, was as delicious as the banquet selection he had
tasted only a couple of nights before.  Harry didn't care if the Xausan
innkeeper had served him leola root stew: the fresh air and activity had left
the ensign with a such a ravenous appetite, he probably would've eaten
anything put in front of him.
        His hunger satisfied, the weight of the day's activities finally
overcame Harry.  Gathering up his possessions, he wearily trudged up two
flights of stairs and down the hall to his room, fourth door on the right. A
long night's sleep would be more than welcome.  Locking the door behind him,
Harry removed his grungy leather vest and elk-skin leggings.  The foul smell
of his own stink made him want to choke, and wish he had another change of
clothes, when he spotted the basinette in the corner.  Making a few quick
trips to the communal bathroom (and imagine his surprise and relief to
discover they had indoor plumbing - even if it was just cold water!), he
collected enough water to cleanse the grime from his body and wash his linens.
        He was about to pull off his shirt when he heard an irregular tapping
at the door.  Perplexed at who might be calling, Harry opened the door,
greeting a suddenly confused and startled man.
        "You're not Goral," the man astutely pointed out.
        The ensign waited, hoping the man would volunteer some explanation
for the comment.  None looked to be forthcoming, though.  "Uh, no," he
replied nonplussed.  "Can I help you with something?"
        The stranger knit his brow in consternation, appearing to struggle
with the idea of forming a coherent sentence.  "This is the third floor,
fourth door on the left, isn't it?  I was supposed to meet Goral on the third
floor, fourth door on the left."
        The corner of Harry's mouth tugged upward.  "Try your other left," he
remarked, pointing to the door directly behind the caller.
        The visitor looked over his shoulder, a look of embarrassment
crossing his face.  "Sorry to disturb you, sir," he sheepishly apologized.
        Harry gave him a friendly little wave as he closed the door, then
resumed his task of bathing.

        Llud tapped on the door using the secret code Lord Goral instructed
him to use.  He still felt a bit silly for knocking on the wrong door, but he
always had difficulty discerning his right from his left.
        The door creaked open, revealing a tall, shadowy figure.  "It's about
time you showed up.  Get in here, now," he grumbled softly.
        Llud scuffled his way into the room.  "Sorry, your Lordship.  I got
lost."
        Goral shut the door hurriedly.  "Will you keep it down!" he
reprimanded.  "I told you not to address me by my title.  Do you want
everyone in the building to know I'm here?"
        Llud hung his head, abashed.  "I'm sorry, Goral, I didn't mean to -"
        "Oh, never mind," Goral sighed.  The man was a pathetic idiot, but
without him his plan had no chance of success.  He crossed the room and
picked up the dagger lying on the night table.  "You do know what to do with
this, don't you?" he prompted, placing the weapon in Llud's palm.
        The slow-witted man perked up with confidence.  "Yeah, sure. Tomorrow
afternoon, the queen will be giving her address to the people in the main
square for the annual Harvest Festival.  As it is customary, she will walk
down Centre Street to the square, to demonstrate her bond with the masses.
And that's where I will kill her with this knife."
        Goral smiled horribly.  "Very good, Llud, very good indeed.  Our fair
people will suffer under her authority no longer.  You should feel honored
for taking such a vital role in their liberation."
        Llud beamed from the praise, but his expression shifted to concern.
"And you'll assure me that I will be rewarded once you become king, your
Lordship?"
        "Trust me, Llud," he answered innocently, "when I assume power, you
and your whole family will be well taken care of."  /I'll make sure they all
get front row seats for your execution before I have them removed from your
property./
        Goral showed the unwitting conspirator to the door, a false smile
still plastered on his face.  But once the door closed, the fiendish nobleman
chuckled evilly.  For years he plotted to depose his twin sister from the
throne to take his rightful place as ruler of the Xausan Kingdom.  All his
life, the fact that S'Rel was proclaimed heir despite being born twelve
minutes later tormented him.  He should have been heir; he was the eldest
child!  The constant anguish of facing an unfulfilled destiny ate at his ego,
driving him to secretly devise a method of overthrowing Queen S'Rel, even
while he pretended to support her in her reign.
        But when he'd found out she was with child, his bitter obsession
pushed him past the point of sanity.  He couldn't allow the child to be born,
otherwise his chance for power would be forever lost.  And the only way to
ensure that happened was to make sure his sister perished.  How fortunate it
was that he came upon Llud, an ironsmith by trade, but a simpleton by nature.
By convincing him that S'Rel was leading the state toward political ruin,
Goral would dispose of two problems in one fatal act of brutality.  And more
important, no one would ever be able to implicate him once the loose ends
were mended.
        Soon, his ambition for absolute power would be fully realized.

Chapter 10

        Thin shafts of morning sun worked their way through the loose seams
of the shutter, challenging the quiet darkness of the room to subdue them.
One column, however, was fortunate enough to work itself upon the warm skin
of a slumbering soul.  It danced and teased until its victim succumbed to its
will.

        Harry slowly became aware of the tickling sensation on his nose that
was dragging him out of sleep.  He finally had to reach up and scratch it
before he sneezed.  By then he knew it was pointless going back to sleep.
Besides, he'd have to get on his way pretty soon.
        He gingerly crawled out of bed and pulled back the shutters.  The
bright light of day stabbed at his eyes, forcing him to squint and turn away.
 It would take a few minutes for his eyes to adjust.
        Once dressed, Harry went back to the window.  The street below was
already teeming with life, the townspeople either milling through the various
shops or curiously inspecting the wares of anonymous street vendors.  The
scene reminded Harry of the open markets in Chinatown where he grew up.  Some
fresh fruit would make for a great breakfast, and he'd get more exposure to
the Xausan culture as well.
        The atmosphere of the market pulled Harry in like an undertow.  As he
walked among the early morning shoppers, taking in the sights and sounds of
the bazaar, for a short while he felt like he was once again back home
walking through those streets in Chinatown.  He sampled through the many
displays of fresh fruit and produce, and a variety of baked goods and craft
items while chatting up with the local vendors.  It was then that Harry
learned of the queen's public address at midday.  He had been planning to
leave shortly, but with the opportunity to see one of Xausa's historical
leaders was too entreating to pass up.  After all, Queen S'Ral could have
been one of Xausa's most important rulers in history - how could he not want
to witness someone that important?
        People were already starting to gather out in the streets by the
square, who were all no doubt eager to get a good view of the queen's
arrival.  Not wanting to be tossed about like a sack of potatoes, Harry
worked his way to a street corner about a block away.  To get a better view
he climbed up onto the street lamp.  Glancing about he spotted the face of
the man whom he met briefly the night before.  Just thinking about how the
poor man looked so embarrassed by knocking on the wrong door made Harry
smirk.  He could sympathize how it felt to be in an awkward situation.
        The sudden uproar of the crowd deflected Harry's attention back to
the cobbled road.  There, about seventy-five meters away, was the queen's
procession.  It was not particularly spectacular or elaborate, but then it
was probably meant to keep the queen within the realm of her subjects.  The
procession was preceded by two lightly armed soldiers, about twenty feet in
front of the queen herself and her attendant.  Harry could see from the robes
she wore and the way she carried herself that the queen was with child, and
fairly heavily at that - seven or eight months he guessed.  He pondered in
wonderment why on earth she would be walking down the middle of a city street
in such a condition.  He certainly hoped that one of the two men following
her was a physician in case she collapsed from exhaustion. Another pair of
soldiers brought up the rear.
        Harry watched as the two guards crossed in front of him.  While
following them he caught a form of movement in his periphery, and looked over
in time to see a second flash of light deflected from a metal object. It was
the stranger from last night, wielding a dagger!
        Everything else was immediately tuned out.  Harry's Starfleet
training took over.  With the instincts of a wild animal, he launched himself
from his perch directly toward the queen.

        Llud had rehearsed the event in his mind at least fifty times since
he woke up this morning, but nevertheless he felt anxious about his
assignment.  There were certainly a lot of people in attendance, and they
didn't seem too displeased with the queen's presence.  But Lord Goral knew
what he was talking about, being her top advisor.
        The two guards passed by the smith.  Llud looked past the queen to
spot Lord Goral giving him the order to proceed.  Breaking away from the
crowd, Llud walked right toward the queen and drew the knife from his jacket.
She hadn't even noticed him approaching until he cocked his arm up to strike.

        The Harvest Festival had always been  Queen S'Ral's favorite event,
ever since she was a young girl.  The people of the city were always so
friendly and so eager to be visited by the royal family.  At least that's
what she always believed.  Right now it seemed the world had descended into
madness.
        One moment she had been looking out at the happy faces of the
villagers.  In the next moment all she could hear was the piercing shriek of
her hand-maid, Naria.  She only had a moment more to turn and realize that
she was being assaulted.  Time slowed: S'Ral stood paralyzed in fear as the
man before her raised his weapon.  She stared deep into the cold, inscrutable
eyes of the assailant, his instrument hung high above, flashing with deadly
intent.  Her heart was pounding with reckless abandon, as if sensing that its
need of use would soon be cut short.
        As if in stop-motion, the attacker's arm slowly fell down upon her,
and for an instant she felt guilty for not giving her unborn child a fair
chance at life, even though she was ready to die.  But the end did not come.
Even as the sharp edge closed upon her, another hand reached out and
deflected the blow away.  At the same time another stranger was crashing
against her would-be killer, spilling both of them to the ground.

        Harry didn't even have the resources available to determine how close
the man had come to stabbing the queen.  All that mattered was stopping the
progress of the knife.  As he watched it descend he flung himself into the
air with every ounce of strength he could muster at the man, lancing out at
the dagger with an outstretched hand.  At the last moment he found the other
man's wrist, his momentum angling the attack away from the queen.  The rest
of his body followed through, colliding with the assailant, forcing them to
the ground.  The man had clearly not anticipated the collision, the dagger
easily wrenched out of his hand from the impact.  From the expression on his
face Harry could see how scared and confused the man was.
        Cognizant of his surroundings, Harry looked up to see what was
happening.  The crowd looked panicked and bewildered.  Queen S'Ral was
sitting squat on the ground clasping a rended sleeve, a look of shock glazed
across her face.  Her attendant and one of the men from the procession were
kneeling beside her, obviously shaken but more concerned with the queen's
health at the moment.  The other man was busy shouting orders to the guards.
        "Seize that man!  He has made an attempt on the Queen's life!" Goral
screamed.  Llud's failure outraged him, with thanks to some overzealous fool
with a penchant for heroism.  He had to restrain himself from charging over
and strangling the interloper with his bare hands.
        The guards were kind enough not to knock Harry back to the ground
when they grabbed Llud.  Harry scrutinized the felon carefully.  His eyes
seemed to plead forgiveness to the man who had just apprehended him.
        "Oh, please, no," the man begged.  "I'm sorry, your lordship.  I
didn't mean to wrong you.  It was an accident."
        Goral scorned the prisoner.  "You have committed treasonous acts,
fiend, and shall be punished accordingly."  To the guards he addressed  "Take
him and have him executed immediately."
        "Hey, wait a minute!" Harry interceded, motivated by the captive's
look of abject terror and betrayal.  "Shouldn't you find out who his
accomplice is?"
        Goral looked at the ensign curiously.  "Accomplice?  It seems quite
clear to me that this contemptible excuse for a person acted of his own sick
mind."
        "Why would you suspect this man of having an accomplice, young sir?"
asked the queen, who had managed to calm down and regain her footing.
        Harry turned his attention to her.  "Your Majesty, I suppose you
could say I know this man.  I met him last night, although through chance. He
was to meet with someone in the hotel I was staying at, and he admittedly
confused his right hand with his left when negotiating his direction. Surely
a man this confused could not have conceived of such a plot to murder you.
Someone had to have put him up to the deed."
        "What nonsense," Goral protested, trying to keep the worry out of his
voice.  "The rantings of a man who probably consumed too much of the sprits,
and suffers from the delusional imaginings of his own mind.  Did we not catch
this man with a dagger in his hand that he did try to murder you with, Your
Majesty?  Such a crime is punishable by death from execution, and I assure
you -"
        "Oh, do be quiet, brother," S'Ral interrupted.  His counter seemed
irrational - the young man looked to be in control of his faculties. Besides,
whether or not Goral's utterances were veritable, she enjoyed contradicting
him.  "Suppose I believe that what you claim is true, young man.  How do you
intend we find out who the accomplice is?"
        "He happened to mention the name of the person he was meeting with,"
Harry offered.  "It was...uh, what was it now...oh, yeah, Goral."
        It seemed as though every citizen in the square caught their breath
in surprise.  S'Ral looked askance at her brother.  "What do you know of
this?"
        Goral turned a lovely shade of scarlet.  "Obviously he must be the
accomplice, and means to implicate me in this scandal to save himself. Arrest
him, guards!"
        "Guards, cease!" she ordered.  "If he was the accomplice, why would
he disrupt his own plan?  No, I think not."  She commanded to have Llud
brought before her.  Pointing to Harry, she asked "Citizen, you will admit me
the truth.  Is this the man you worked for?"
        Llud stared at the ensign for a moment, then shook his head.  "No,
Your Majesty."
        She repeated the question, this time pointing to Goral.
        Llud looked uncomfortably at the queen, Lord Goral, then back again.
"Yes, Your Majesty.  Lord Goral thought up the whole plan."
        "LIES!" Goral erupted furiously.  "He speaks falsehoods!  The
traitor!"
        "Guards!  Arrest my brother for treason," snapped the queen.
        The remaining guards ensnared Goral before he could get away.  The
two perpetrators were then escorted to the town prison, with Goral crying
bloody murder the whole way.
        With that taken care of, Queen S'Ral set her attention on Harry.  "I
extend my utmost gratitude to you, young sir, for displaying such courage and
bravery."
        Harry graciously accepted.  "Thank you, Your Majesty, but I was just
doing part of my job.  I did nothing that any other loyal citizen couldn't
have done."
        "Nonsense," she chided.  "Your selflessness saved not only my life,
but the life of my child as well.  Such courage should - oh!"
        Queen S'Ral staggered from the pain, but kept from falling by Naria's
support.  S'Ral's husband appeared at her side instantly.  "My wife, what is
wrong?"
        The queen's face was troubled.  "I'm not sure, husband.  This pain
started just after I was attacked, only now it is much more pronounced."
        Harry then realized what was going on.  The stress from the attack
had forced her into labor prematurely.  "If you have a hospital, you'd better
get there quick: the queen's going to have her baby!"