She wove her way between the big khala plants, as tall now as she was herself, and giving off the heady sweet odour that indicated they would soon be ripe. It looked like there would be a bumper crop this year, and Nejje smiled to herself, glancing up at the slowly deepening indigo sky.
Then she stopped. Then she started to run for the farmhouse, at full speed, brushing the plants aside as she ran. She flung herself up the wooden steps, through the intricately carved doorway, and did not stop running until she stood, panting, before Steadholder Sharm as he sat in his chair of state in the main hall. The kindly old man looked at her in astonishment.
"Nejje," he said, "whatever is the matter?"
"Stars," Nejje sobbed.
"Stars?"
"Stars." She found her breath. "There are extra stars in the sky, Steadholder, and they are moving -"
A chuckle came now from Magistrate Challad, who stood as ever by the Steadholder's side. "They are called meteors, or shooting stars, little one," the younger man said. "They are nothing to be frightened of."
"No," said Nejje, desperately, "no, I have seen shooting stars, and these are not like that!"
Challad frowned. "Then what are they like?" he asked.
Nejje gulped. She had a terrible feeling that everyone in the hall was staring at her. She opened her mouth to respond -
And then the doors to the hall crashed open, and the whole building echoed to the tramp of marching feet.
---
They were grim-faced men and women in heavy leather clothing, and they carried devices Nejje had never seen before. But the way in which they marched in left little doubt as to their intentions.
Challad stepped forward, shoving the Steadholder back as he took up his ceremonial blade. The protection of the Steadholder was part of the Magistrate's duties. He raised the blade -
One of the grim-faced men raised a hand in return, and the machine in it spat out a line of dazzling green light. The light touched Challad, and he glowed, glowed a terrible red-gold colour as if he were being consumed with fire. And then he was gone, completely gone, with only a smouldering spot on the floorboards to show where he had stood.
"Who commands here?" One of the newcomers was striding forwards, a bulky grey-haired man in a leather coat which reached to the floor. He was scowling, and he too held a killing device in one fist.
Sharm spread out his hands in a helpless gesture. "I am Steadholder here," he said. "We are a peaceful people - we ask you not to -"
"A peaceful people," the bulky man sneered. "Pitiful. I am Dahar Master Juregh, and this planet is now the property of the Klingon Empire. Defy us at your peril. Serve well, and we may permit you to live." He marched up to Sharm and brandished the killing device. "Steadholder. How far does your authority reach?"
"Ah," said Sharm, faintly. "From - from the river to the west to the topmost hill in the east -"
"Local," snarled Juregh. "I require the leaders of this world to surrender to my authority. Must I travel around every farmhouse on this planet to tell the occupants they are my slaves? Where is your central leadership?"
"We have - we have none - not in the sense you mean -"
"Then in what sense?" Juregh raised his hand and struck Sharm across the face. Nejje gasped as the old man fell back. "Talk, you old fool, or I shall begin by executing a hundred citizens."
"Sir." Another voice, now, a rasping whisper that seemed to cut across every other sound. "I beg leave to remind the Dahar Master of the Chancellor's standing orders regarding the treatment of conquered peoples."
Nejje looked towards the speaker, and stifled a scream. They were not all people - some of them were nightmares. The woman who had spoken wore leather clothing of a different style, and her face was green, the colour of ancient bronze, with silvery glowing eyes, and a strange bony growth on her forehead that held back a mane of green hair flanked by long, twitching ears. Behind her stood two outright monsters, one a giant scaly creature with the head of a lizard, the other man-shaped, but with a leathery demon mask in place of its face.
"Lieutenant General... Blek," Juregh said. "How very kind of you to remind me of my duties. And do you propose to curry favour with the Chancellor by telling him of my indiscretions?"
"S-s-s-s-s," said the woman. "The Chancellor is not to be bought with such small change. To issue a reminder is part of my duty, though."
"And you have discharged it," Juregh said. "You are not Klingon, Blek. You do not understand a warrior's rights, a warrior's needs...." He glanced at Nejje as he said that, and something about his look turned her blood to ice.
Surely, she thought, the sun was down? It had been on the horizon when she saw the moving stars.
"You have discharged your duty, Blek," Juregh repeated. "And you want no part in the coming... entertainments. Very well, you need take no part. Return to your ship."
The green woman looked as though she was about to protest... then she raised her wrist towards her mouth, and said into it, "Bl'k' to Goroke. Three to beam up."
And then she, and the monsters behind her, glowed red and vanished. It was not, Nejje thought, the same sort of vanishing that Challad had suffered... but the three monsters were just as indisputably gone. And, Nejje realized with a flash of despair, the monsters might just have been the only ones here who were on her side....
"Now then," said Juregh. "Let us discuss, Steadholder, how you will entertain your conquerors."
Nejje craned her neck, trying to see past the invaders, to look at the sky. The sun was down - it had to be down - it was down -
Nejje tried desperately to close off her mind to all the things that happened next.
---
In the morning, the people of Sharm's Steadhold took what remained of the ones who had called themselves Klingons, and carried them out of the buildings. Because the Klingons had acted so badly, Sharm's people did not bury the remains, but gave them to the farm animals to eat.
It did not take long. There was very little left.
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