Naḳdimon - First strike: the exclusive story of how Israel foiled Iraqs attempt to get the bomb

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LEFT ARM NUMB, his chest constricted from the dust, Kirk scraped between the stunned combatants as they stood heaving and staring, and managed to keep from going down on his knees again.

"Spock!" he called.

No answer. He didn't really expect one.

The Klingon general lowered his arms and watched as the captain crossed the battleground. The general seemed to understand and stood like Henry VIII on a jousting field, watching as Kirk came around the gravelly talus skirt.

Kirk first saw Spock as a swatch of blue and black quilted against the stones, surrounded by Giotto and his men, who ringed the fallen body and stood off several Klingons who wanted to deal the death blow if it hadn't been dealt already.

He thought the Vulcan moved, but there was so much dust....

Everything had stopped, just stopped. Klingons, Starfleet crew, Capellans, all standing stillthose who were still standinglooking at the Klingon general who waited like a lone monolith at their center, and at Kirk as he moved between the bodies of the fallen.

Maybe this was some kind of demand for surrender. A full general?

He glanced at the Klingon general in something like contempt or dareeven he wasn't surebut kept to his purpose. One thing at a time.

Giotto's men parted for him, but kept their weapons up and didn't slack their stance against the Klingon soldiers.

It felt good to kneel finally. The ground had been pulling at himit felt good to give in.

Spock was looking up, blinking, dazed but conscious, at least. His lips were pressed in frustration and effort, pickle-green blood showing in scratches on his forehead and the point of his right ear.

As the gravel cut into his knee, Kirk pressed his good hand to Spock's tattered sleeve.

"You all right?" he asked.

"Stunned," Spock said with effort, and with pain that he was trying to hide. His voice was as gravelly as the stuff he was lying on. Cautiously he raised his head, brows drawn, then in something like amusement added, "And, I believe, grazed here and there...."

"Where?" Kirk persisted.

Suddenly aggravated at not being able to self-diagnose, Spock glanced up at him and belittled himself with a bob of his angular brows. "I am not certain."

Glancing up at the needle of rock above them, Kirk realized it was about two decks higher than he'd estimated from way over there. "How did you survive that?"

"Starfleet training," Spock said lightly. "I rolled."

Kirk pressed out a sympathetic grin. "Think you can get up? We've got a new development."

Faced with that, Spock pressed his palms to the stones and tried to lift his shoulders. His voice cracked as he grunted, "Shall certainly attempt it."

"Mr. Giotto, give us a hand."

In the back of his mind he could hear the protests of common sense as he and Giotto pulled the injured first officer to his feet, but it was important to Kirk that the enemies see the Starfleet officers upright and thinking. Once they got him up it became clear that Spock couldn't stand on his own and Kirk accepted that he might be making a mistake.

He waved in a yeoman to help Giotto, then said, "Bring him over here. I want him to hear whatever goes on."

At the center of what was quickly becoming a scraggly ring of mixed combatants, the Klingon general turned in place. "Who is in command here?" he bellowed, but he was looking from Klingon to Klingon, not at the Starfleet team.

Behind the Security detail, Kirk straightened and watched. Was this some kind of crank?

"I am!" A Klingon commander came up over the incline and hurried down, clearly infuriated. "Why have you stopped our victory?"

The general's big body turned and he raised his arms in contempt. "I see no victory here. What's the matter with you? Why are you squabbling over this bit of dirt? Wasting men and munitions, and for what? A few shipments of toparine? You're a fool."

The commander waved his hand at Kirk. "They killed my representative!"

One of the big Capellans stepped forward and contradicted, "I killed your representative. After he betrayed us."

The blunt honesty silenced the Klingon commander, and Kirk took that as a cue to move in. He didn't care about their inner quarrels. He forced himself not to limp as he put his back to the commander as a kind of insult and raised his chin to the general.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked.

The high-ranker squared off before him. "I am General Kellen."

Behind Kirk, the other Klingons collectively gasped and relaxed their postures in respect.

"Kellen?" Kirk repeated. "Of the Muscari Incident?"

"Yes."

The general waited until his identity sank in all around. Even if they didn't know what he had done in the past, they had heard his name and they knew his reputation. So did Kirk. General Kellen the only calm Klingon Kirk knew of.

That kind of thing gets around.

The general didn't seem particularly impressed with himself, but he was clearly counting on Kirk's being impressed with him.

And it was close.

They stood together on the printless stone flat, face-to-face, sizing each other up.

After he'd ticked off a measured pause, the general asked, "Your ship is the Enterprise?"

Narrowing his eyes in the bright sunlight, Kirk felt his brow tighten. "Yes "

"Then you are Captain James B. Kirk?"

"James T. So what?"

"Then I am here to ask for your help on behalf of the Klingon Empire and your own Federation."

"Help about what?"

"We need your help, Captain. The demons have returned. The Havoc has come."

"Does this mean you're declaring a cease-fire?"

The question had already gotten its answer, but Kirk wanted his men and the Klingon men to hear it from the local top, which at the moment was General Kellen. He didn't want anyone ending up with a dagger in the back from the overzealous among them.

Peering over those funny glasses, Kellen nodded hurriedly. "Yes. And I should mention that your starship is about to punch holes in my cruiser. Instruct them not to."

Perhaps the general was fishing for an act of trust, or at least balance, or maybe he just wanted what he said he wanted. A chance to talk.

Either way, there would be a chance to pause and regroup. Never taking his eyes off Kellen, Kirk snapped up his communicator and flipped open the antenna grid.