Shore Leave Part 3

“Apparently so.” For a moment, nobody moved. The ship rolled gently beneath them. Canvas cracked overhead. Wood creaked somewhere below deck. Around Mercer, perhaps fifteen Klingons stood with swords drawn and expressions suggesting they had been waiting all afternoon for somebody to make a poor decision. Rainer’s hand still hovered beside the sword at the rail. The handsome Klingon stood six feet away. His blade rested casually against one shoulder. He smiled at her. Rainer smiled back. Kane looked between them. “No.” Rainer’s smile disappeared. “I haven’t done anything.” “You’re about to.” “You don’t know that.” Kane looked at her hand. Rainer looked at her hand. It was now touching the sword. She removed it. “Circumstantial.” The Klingon laughed. Not loudly. Not theatrically. Exactly the way Rainer had imagined. Her eyes narrowed. Mercer saw it happen. Recognition. Not of the man. Of something about him. The Klingon stepped closer. Rainer did not step back. He said something in Klingon. Rainer tilted her head. “What?” The Klingon’s smile widened. Then he slapped the flat of his sword against the blade waiting at the rail. The weapon jumped from its resting place. Rainer caught it. Mercer stared. Rainer looked down at the sword in her hand. Then at Kane. Kane stared at her. “I did not do that.” The Klingon spread his arms. “Have at thee!” Mercer blinked. Rainer looked at him. Mercer lifted both hands. “Not me.” Hale slowly turned toward Mercer. Mercer saw it. “What?” “Nothing.” “You keep doing that.” “Doing what?” “Looking at me.” “I’m trying to determine why the Klingons talk like that.” “So am I.” The Klingon pirate at the bow raised his sword. “Prepare to repel boarders!” Hale frowned. “We’re already aboard.” The Klingon officer looked at him. Hale looked back. The Klingon lowered his sword slightly. For one strange second, they appeared to be considering the same procedural problem. Rainer pointed at Hale. “That one’s yours.” Hale’s expression hardened. “No.” “He absolutely is.” “There is no evidence—” The Klingon officer barked something toward the rigging. Three Klingons immediately moved to assigned positions. One secured a line. Another took the wheel. A third began checking the deck as though expecting an inspection. Rainer smiled. Hale watched them. “That proves nothing.” Ox nodded toward the hatch. “Cook’s mine.” Everyone looked at him. Ox shrugged. “Pretty obvious.” The enormous Klingon cook still stood beside him. He had put down the cleaver. The ladle remained. Ox pointed toward it. “What’s for supper?” The Klingon cook looked at him. Then shouted something in Klingon. Ox listened. “Stew.” Rainer stared. “You cannot understand him.” “I know.” “Then stop answering him.” The cook slapped Ox on the shoulder. Ox rocked forward half a step. He smiled. “See?” “No.” The handsome Klingon moved. Rainer barely got her sword up. Steel struck steel. The sound cracked across the deck. Rainer’s expression changed instantly. The Klingon attacked again. She caught the second strike. Then the third. Rainer backed two steps. Not because she had to. Because she was smiling. “Rainer,” Kane said. “I know.” The Klingon came at her again. Rainer slipped sideways. His blade cut through empty air. She brought hers around. He blocked. Their swords locked. They were suddenly close. Very close. The Klingon smiled. Rainer smiled. Mercer looked at Hale. Hale was watching them. Mercer leaned closer. “She made him.” “I am aware.” “Really made him.” “I am aware.” Rainer heard them. “Both of you shut up.” The Klingon laughed. Rainer shoved him away. He stumbled backward. Then, instead of recovering like a reasonable person, he grabbed a hanging line and kicked off the deck. The rope carried him upward. His coat flared behind him. He swung around the mast. Rainer stared. “Oh, come on.” Mercer grinned. “You like him.” Rainer turned. “I will throw you overboard.” The Klingon swung back. Rainer ducked. Boots passed inches over her head. He released the rope, landed on the rail and balanced there with one boot. Rainer looked up at him. The Klingon gave her a small bow. Then jumped. Rainer met him with steel. Mercer laughed. He couldn’t help it. This was ridiculous. It was completely ridiculous. And it was fantastic. A Klingon pirate charged him. Mercer’s laugh stopped. “Oh.” The Klingon swung. Mercer jumped backward. The blade passed in front of his shirt. He looked down. Then at the Klingon. “Wait.” The Klingon swung again. Mercer ducked. “Wait!” A sword was suddenly lying beside a coil of rope. Mercer grabbed it. He had never used a sword in his life. This became apparent immediately. The Klingon struck. Mercer blocked badly. The impact traveled through both arms and into his teeth. “Jesus!” The Klingon laughed. Mercer backed away. “All right.” Another strike. Mercer caught it. Barely. “All right.” The Klingon shouted something. Then: “Stand and deliver!” Mercer stared. “That doesn’t even make sense!” The Klingon attacked. Mercer ran. Behind him, Hale shouted, “That’s a highwayman!” “I KNOW!” Mercer reached the mast. There was nowhere else to go. He turned. The Klingon raised his sword. Mercer lifted his. Their blades met. Mercer’s knees almost folded. He shoved back. The Klingon shoved harder. Mercer could smell leather and sweat and salt. This was not how sword fights worked in books. In books, nobody mentioned how heavy everything was. Or how quickly your hands started hurting. Or how much bigger a Klingon looked when he was trying to push a piece of steel through your face. Mercer twisted. The blades slid apart. He stepped sideways. The Klingon overbalanced. Mercer hit him with the guard of the sword. The Klingon stumbled. Mercer stared. It had worked. “Ha!” The Klingon punched him in the mouth. White light exploded behind Mercer’s eyes. The deck disappeared. Then returned all at once. Hard. His shoulder struck first. Then his head. The sword left his hand. For a second Mercer heard nothing. He tasted blood. Somewhere nearby somebody was still laughing. Then Kane’s voice cut through everything. “Mercer.” Mercer rolled onto one elbow. The deck tilted. Not the ship. Him. He touched his mouth. His fingers came away red. “Oh.” The Klingon who had hit him was smiling. Not maliciously. If anything, he looked delighted. Like they were playing. Mercer spat blood onto the deck. “That hurt.” The Klingon raised his sword again. Something changed. Not on the ship. In the five of them. Rainer stopped smiling. Hale’s posture shifted. Ox put down his bag. Kane moved. The Klingon’s sword never came down. Kane caught the attacking wrist with both hands. Turned. Stepped. The Klingon went over Kane’s hip and hit the deck hard enough to shake the boards beneath Mercer. His sword skidded away. Kane kicked it across the deck. “Everybody good?” Rainer backed away from her pirate without taking her eyes off him. “Yeah.” “Hale?” “Good.” “Ox?” “Fine.” Mercer wiped his mouth. “Fantastic.” Kane looked at him. “You standing?” Mercer got one foot underneath himself. “Working on it.” Ox appeared beside him and hauled him upright. Mercer’s knees objected. Ox kept hold of his arm. “Easy.” “I’m fine.” “You’re bleeding.” “I noticed.” Ox looked at the Klingon Kane had thrown. “He hit you pretty good.” “Thank you.” “Welcome.” Mercer spat again. The Klingon was already getting up. That was the other problem. Apparently Kane throwing someone onto a wooden deck was also temporary. Hale had moved closer. “The lieutenant said the constructs could hurt us.” Rainer looked at Mercer’s mouth. “Yeah.” Mercer touched his lip. “Could’ve emphasized it.” Kane watched the Klingons. “They did.” Rainer’s pirate stood several yards away now. Sword lowered. Still smiling. But Rainer wasn’t smiling back. Not quite. Kane said, “No blades.” Rainer looked at the sword in her hand. Then at the Klingon. “You’re serious?” “Yes.” “They have blades.” “We don’t know what happens if you put one through somebody.” “The planet fixes them.” “The planet fixes us too.” Rainer considered that. Then dropped the sword. It struck the deck. The handsome Klingon looked at it. Then at her. He seemed disappointed. Rainer pointed at him. “Don’t.” He smiled. “Seriously.” The Klingon sheathed his sword. Rainer stared. Mercer stared too. “Well.” Rainer looked at him. “What?” “He listens to you.” “Shut up.” The Klingon bowed. Rainer’s face did something complicated. Mercer decided survival depended on not commenting. The disciplined Klingon at the bow shouted an order. The pirate crew began moving. Not attacking. Working. Lines were hauled. Sails shifted. The wheel turned. Hale watched. “They’re sailing the ship.” Rainer looked around. “Wasn’t that the idea?” “Yes, but—” The officer Klingon strode toward Hale. Hale stiffened. The Klingon stopped in front of him. They regarded one another. The Klingon said something short and sharp. Hale frowned. “I don’t understand you.” The Klingon pointed toward the rigging. Then toward the deck. Then toward Hale. Hale looked where he was pointing. “No.” The Klingon repeated the gesture. “No.” Another Klingon ran past carrying a line. The officer barked at him. The Klingon immediately corrected course. Hale watched. Rainer leaned toward Mercer. “He’s getting assigned a watch.” Mercer’s lip hurt when he smiled. Hale heard her. “I am not getting assigned anything.” The Klingon officer handed him a length of rope. Hale stared at it. Then at the Klingon. The Klingon stared back. Hale took the rope. Rainer laughed so hard she had to lean against the mast. “This is temporary.” The Klingon nodded once. Hale’s eyes narrowed. “Did you understand that?” The Klingon turned away. Rainer laughed harder. Ox’s cook slapped the hatch frame with his ladle. Ox looked over. The cook gestured below. Ox nodded. “I’ll be there.” Rainer stopped laughing. “You are not going into the galley with the Klingon.” “Why not?” “He has a cleaver.” “So?” “He’s a Klingon.” Ox looked at the cook. The cook looked at Ox. Ox looked back at Rainer. “He cooks.” “That does not answer the Klingon part.” “Same fella.” The cook barked something. Ox nodded. “See? Needs help.” “You have no idea what he said.” Ox picked up his bag. “Probably.” Rainer looked at Kane. “You’re letting him go?” Kane watched the cook. Then Ox. “Stay where we can hear you.” Ox nodded. “Yep.” He disappeared below deck. The cook followed. Rainer stared after them. “This is the strangest shore leave I’ve ever had.” Mercer touched his swelling lip. “How many have you had?” “None.” “Then technically—” “Finish that sentence and I’ll hit the other side.” Mercer stopped. Hale, still holding the rope, said, “The crew appears to have shifted from confrontation to normal shipboard operations.” Rainer looked at him. “You’ve been holding that rope for thirty seconds and already joined them.” “I have not joined them.” The officer Klingon shouted from across the deck. Hale looked toward him automatically. Rainer smiled. “Sure.” Hale dropped the rope. The officer Klingon stopped. Looked at the rope. Looked at Hale. Hale looked at the rope. Then at him. For a moment nobody moved. Hale picked it up again. Rainer made a choking sound. “Say one word,” Hale said. Rainer held both hands over her mouth. Mercer turned away so Hale wouldn’t see him laughing. His lip hurt. Worth it. A shadow crossed the deck. Mercer looked up. One of the Klingons was moving through the rigging. No. Not moving. Running. He crossed a yard overhead, grabbed a line, dropped ten feet and caught another. Mercer followed him. “That’s yours.” Rainer looked up. “No. Mine’s over there.” Her pirate had found a barrel and was sitting on it with one boot on the rim, drinking from a metal cup that Mercer was reasonably sure had not existed thirty seconds earlier. He raised it toward Rainer. She stared. “Asshole.” He drank. Mercer looked back into the rigging. The other Klingon disappeared behind a sail. “Then whose was that?” Nobody answered. Kane was watching the ship. Not the crew. The ship. Mercer noticed. Before he could ask, something hit the deck beside him. A rolled piece of parchment. Mercer looked down. The parchment had been tied with red cord. He picked it up. Rainer noticed. “What’s that?” “I don’t know.” Hale immediately said, “Don’t open it.” Mercer looked at him. “Why?” “Because we’re standing on a fantasy pirate ship populated by Klingons created from our imaginations.” Mercer considered that. “Fair.” Rainer came over. “Open it.” Hale looked at her. “Of course.” Mercer untied the cord. The parchment unrolled. A map. His stomach fluttered. Not because he was afraid. Because for a second he was twelve again. Lines of ink crossed yellowed paper. A coastline. Mountains. A bay. A path into the interior. And near the center of the island— An X. Mercer smiled. Rainer saw it. “Oh, no.” “What?” “You’re doing the face again.” “What face?” “The twelve-year-old face.” Hale looked at the map. “Let me see.” Mercer pulled it away. “You mocked the ship.” “I did not mock the ship.” “You criticized the stern.” “It was inaccurate.” “My map.” Hale stared at him. Mercer smiled. Hale looked at Kane. Kane said, “Not involved.” Rainer leaned over Mercer’s shoulder. “Is that the treasure?” “It’s an X.” “So yes.” “Probably.” Hale said, “An X is not evidence of treasure.” Rainer pointed at the map. “It’s a pirate map.” “That does not—” “It has an X.” “That convention exists primarily because—” Rainer put one hand over Hale’s mouth. He stopped. She looked at Mercer. “Treasure.” Mercer grinned. “Treasure.” From the barrel, the handsome Klingon slammed down his cup. “TREASURE!” Every Klingon on deck stopped. Mercer’s smile faded. Rainer slowly turned. The handsome Klingon was standing now. His eyes fixed on the map. Hale removed Rainer’s hand from his mouth. “You said it out loud.” Rainer looked at Mercer. “He said it first.” “You said it louder.” The Klingon captain drew his sword. Rainer sighed. “There he goes again.” The crew erupted. “TREASURE!” “ARRR!” “Qapla’!” Someone rang a bell. Mercer jumped. Klingons flooded across the deck. Lines were hauled. Sails shifted. The ship heeled hard. Mercer grabbed the rail. The map nearly tore out of his hand. Kane caught his wrist. “Hold on.” “I am.” “To the ship.” Mercer grabbed the rail with his other hand. The bow swung toward an island that had not been there before. It rose from the horizon beneath a crown of green. Black cliffs. White beach. A mountain at its center. Rainer stared. “Oh, that’s good.” Hale looked at Mercer. “You imagined that.” Mercer looked at the island. “Maybe.” Rainer’s pirate climbed onto the rail. He pointed his sword toward the island. “Make sail, ye dogs! Gold awaits!” The crew roared. Mercer looked at Hale. Hale looked back. Mercer said, “That one wasn’t me.” Hale stared at him. From below deck came Ox’s voice. “Food’s ready!” Rainer bent over laughing. Even Kane smiled. Barely. Then the deck beneath him creaked. One board. Behind him. Kane’s smile disappeared. Mercer didn’t notice. Nobody did. Kane turned his head slightly. A Klingon stood near the stern. No coat. No sash. No eye patch. No sword raised for effect. He had been there long enough that Kane should have noticed him. That, more than anything, was interesting. The Klingon looked at Kane. Kane looked back. Around them, the ship exploded with noise. Pirates shouted. Rainer laughed. Hale argued with his officer. Ox called something from the galley. Mercer held the treasure map like the most important thing in the world. The Klingon said nothing. Neither did Kane. Then the Klingon looked toward the island. Kane followed his eyes. When he looked back— The space near the stern was empty. Kane stared at it for another second. Rainer shouted from across the deck. “Sergeant Major!” Kane looked toward her. She had acquired her sword again. Kane pointed at it. “No.” Rainer looked down. Then back at him. “We’re going after treasure.” “No.” “The pirates have swords.” “No.” “My pirate has a sword.” “Your pirate is the reason you don’t get one.” The handsome Klingon raised his cup. Rainer pointed at him. “See?” Kane started toward them. “Put it down.” Rainer backed away. “No.” “Rainer.” “We’re on leave.” “You used that already.” “It still applies.” The island grew ahead of them. Mercer laughed. His mouth hurt. The ship rolled beneath his boots. Klingons shouted in two languages and at least one completely unnecessary pirate dialect. Hale was arguing about procedure. Ox was apparently cooking with a Klingon. Rainer was running from Kane with a sword. And somewhere on the ship was a Klingon who had managed to stand behind Sergeant Major Kane without being noticed. Mercer looked toward the island. Treasure waited there. Probably. He smiled. This was the best terrible idea they had ever had.