SINGULARITY  4 
By HECK


Comments to heck@heckster.co.uk

CHAPTER FOUR.

PICARD TURNED IN the command chair to watch Data and LaForge emerge from the
turbolift. He got to his feet as they came down the ramp.

"Gentlemen", he greeted them with a smile. "Everything done? All ship-shape?"

"Almost, Sir". LaForge approached the Captain to give his report. "There's
still some fine tuning to do, but we can do that from the engineering station
here on the bridge".

"Excellent. When can we expect to be ready to test it?"

"About two hours. Then, if the test is successful, we can send Brenhya home
tomorrow".

"Very good". Picard settled back into his chair. "Make it so".

The two officers headed for the engineering station. As they arrived, Data
spoke to his friend in hushed tones.

"Geordi, I am confused".

"What about, Data?"

"I fail to understand why Captain Picard enquired about the configuration of
this vessel". "Huh?"

"He enquired, 'all ship-shape?'. But this is a ship. It can be no other shape
than ship shaped".

"Oh, Data ..."

One thing more marvellous than the next, Brenhya thought as she stood in the
sonic shower. Waves of ultrasound bathed her body, leaving her skin tingling
and spotlessly clean. She turned in place, letting the inaudible vibrations
wash over her, luxuriating in the dry clean feeling. Still, I would prefer a
good old-fashioned scrub in a hot tub. She stepped from the shower, catching
sight of her naked body in the full length mirror.

Mirrors were not unknown to her. But every mirror she had seen in her own time
was either polished tin, or the very few glass mirrors were uneven and
distorted the reflection, the degree depending on the quality.

As a warrior, she had often examined herself in reflective surfaces. But it
had always been in the manner of a craftsman inspecting his best tools, or a
soldier checking out his finest weapon. She had looked for muscle tone and
flexibility, checking for any flaws that might detract from her efficiency as
a fighter, and always with total lack of vanity.

This mirror, however, was so finely engineered and so highly polished that it
gave her a perfectly clear, perfectly accurate reflection of herself. For a
moment, she just stood and looked, seeing herself for the first time as others
did.

A wide grin spread across her lovely face. She was delighted with the image
she saw, turning this way and that and examining herself from every angle. She
raised an arm and flexed a large, round bicep, admiring the way her muscles
slid smoothly under her skin. A tensed thigh swelled into a column of pure
strength, and she ran her fingers down its length, probing the rubbery
hardness. As she rose erect once more, her hands played across the hard, flat
plain of her belly, fingers tracing the defined squares of the muscles in a
new, sensuous way. She found a new appreciation of herself in the mirror that
she had never known before, and for the first time in her life acknowledged
her own beauty.

A hand found one of her firm, rounded breasts and her fingers flicked across a
nipple, sending tingles of pleasure through her body. She licked her lips as
she gazed rapt at herself, while her other hand strayed down across her belly
and played briefly with the triangle of auburn curls at her groin. A finger
touched the lips of her labia and she shuddered with the sensation.

Chimes interrupted her reverie. She spun around, instantly alert, but saw
nothing. The noise came again.

"What's that?", she said aloud, instinctively adopting a battle-ready stance.

"Insufficient information", announced the computer voice. "Please specify".

The warrior woman sighed. She would never get used to the voice that came from
nowhere. "That noise", she explained. "The chiming thing".

"It is produced by a micro-current passing between two electronic contacts.
Interaction with a resonator produces a chime tone".

"Which means absolutely nothing to me", Brenhya frowned as the sound came
again. "What does it mean".

"Its purpose is to inform the occupant that another person wishes to gain
ingress".

"Someone wants to come in?"

"Correct".

"Well, why didn't you say so?", she almost snapped. Then, before the computer
could reply, she went on. "Come in".

The door slid back, and Lieutenant Worf entered. He stopped as if stunned, his
eyes taking in the glorious beauty and astounding physique of the woman.

Eventually, he came to himself, and immediately averted his gaze. "You are
naked", he said, stating the obvious.

"I am". Brenhya had been raised largely in a community of women, where she had
been taught that there was nothing wrong in nudity. As a result, she was
totally unselfconscious and completely at ease with her body. "Is that a
problem?"

"Hmph. We prefer to be clothed on this ship. It is ...unseemly".

"Ah. Another of your Klingon customs". She crossed to the divan, where she had
left her skirt and halter.

"Not only Klingon. Most species follow the 'custom'".

"All right". She slipped her brief clothing back on. "How can I help you?"

"I thought you might enjoy some time on the holodeck".

"I might. What's a hollow deck?"

"It is a place where we can create scenarios for research or entertainment. I
also use it for exercise purposes".

Her eyes lit up at the word. "That sounds like something I would enjoy. Let's
go".

"I warn you, Klingon exercises are somewhat strenuous".

She gave a small smile. "I'll just have to see if I can keep up".

They emerged from another of the little square rooms to a corridor that looked
virtually identical to the one on which her quarters were situated. The only
discernible difference was a large double door set in an alcove, and it was to
this that Worf led her. He pressed an inset panel beside the portal, and it
separated into two halves and slid into the wall.

Brenhya followed the Klingon into a large, cube-shaped room with black walls,
floors and ceiling, hatched by yellow lines on each surface. She cast an eye
over her surroundings.

"So this is a hollow deck". It was not a question. "It's certainly hollow,
right enough. What happens now?"

Worf's lips parted in what she took for a smile, but could just as easily have
been a snarl. "Computer", he commanded. "Run callisthenics program Worf three.
Level one".

Brenhya knew an instant of disorientation, and watched in amazement as a
gloomy cave, lit by flaming torches, formed about her. Stalactites,
stalagmites, and complicated rock formations surrounded her, and several
passages led away from the main chamber, giving a sense of size and distance
that could not possibly be contained by the room she had been in.

"Where are we now?"

"We are still in the holodeck. The computer has created this environment to my
specifications. It recreates the Caves of Kahless on Qo'nos, the Klingon
homeworld. And, before you ask, it is not magic. It is created from light and
a similar technology to the replicators".

Brenhya rapped her knuckles against one of the stalactites. "Very solid light,
then", she commented. "And this is where you work out?"

"It is but one program. I have several. This is the most basic".

"Do you warm up before you start?"

"Always. I should warn you, Klingon callisthenics are all based on combat
situations".

"I thought they might be. Let's get started".

As Worf began to go through the ritual movements of his warm-up routine, he
kept one eye on the majestic figure of the woman. She performed what, to him,
were very basic stretching exercises, but he found it very stimulating to
watch her body, it's magnificent musculature flexing and sliding under her
golden skin. He was slightly surprised to find himself growling quietly deep
within his cavernous chest, his breathing just a little more rapid than usual.

Brenhya lay on her back as she completed a series of leg stretches, bringing a
die-straight limb up to touch the ground behind her head. She came to her feet
in a flickering shoulder spring, skin slightly flushed and breathing elevated
a little. "Ready", she asked.

"Would you prefer to work with weapons, or hand to hand?"

"I thought I wasn't allowed weapons?"

"There are safety protocols active in here. You will not get hurt". Brenhya
raised an eyebrow at this, as the Klingon went on. "Any weapons we create in
here cannot be used to injure, nor can they be removed from the holodeck. They
do not exist elsewhere".

"Well, my favourite is hand to hand. But I'd be interested to see your choice
of weapon".

"Very well. Computer. Bat'leth. One point three metres tip to tip. Seven point
four kilograms" On a nearby flat topped boulder that could have been made for
the purpose, the wicked bi-curved blade appeared. "This is a bat'leth", Worf
explained as he hefted the weapon. "It is a traditional Klingon Warrior's
weapon. It is sharpened on all surfaces, except the hand grips, and the double
points at each end can be used in stabbing and twisting movements". He went
through a few stylised movements to demonstrate, before handing the blade to
Brenhya.

She took it in both hands as she had seen him do, and swung it experimentally.
"It's beautifully balanced", she said admiringly. "I could get used to a blade
like this".

"You appear to have a talent for it", Worf admitted. "What kind of weapon are
you accustomed to?"

"I like to use a broadsword".

"If you tell me the specifications, I will instruct the computer to create one
for you".

"About five feet long, double-handed haft, serrated along one edge, and close
to the same weight as your blade".

"Hmm. I may be able to come up with something close. Computer. Claymore.
Fifteenth century Earth, Scottish". The weapon appeared. "Will this do?"

Brenhya closed a hand around the grip and hoisted the weapon. "It's a bit
longer than I'm used to", she said as she spun the blade around her hand,
making the steel flash in the dim light. "But it's a fine sword. I'll manage".

Secretly impressed by the ease with which she handled the big sword, Worf took
up a ready stance. "Let us begin".

Brenhya took up a half-crouched stance, sword held parallel to the ground at
shoulder height, point toward her opponent. Her opposite hand was extended
forward and slightly to the side, As he took up his stance, Worf could not
help but be impressed by the ease with which she held the big blade rock
steady with one hand.

He began easily, bringing his bat'leth round in a sweeping arc aimed at the
neck. His blow was parried with ease, and he had to dodge back as the woman's
sword slid along his blade and slashed toward his chest. He countered with a
low sweep at her legs, which she evaded by leaping high in the air, thrusting
her steel to his head.

After the initial encounter, both antagonists backed off, circling each other
warily. Right away, the Klingon realised that he was facing a powerful and
skilled opponent, and felt the blood singing in his veins at the thrill of
combat.

The next engagement was a flurry of blow and counterblow, neither blade
reaching its mark. The steel clashed and slithered, Brenhya using the wide
brass wrist guards as often as her sword to parry Worf's attacks.

The combat continued in this way for many minutes. One or the other would
launch an attack, the other would parry, and turn it into an assault of his or
her own, neither gaining or losing ground.

A particularly enthusiastic bout ended with Worf bringing his blade down in an
attack to the head of his opponent, a move that, in true battle conditions,
would have cleaved his enemy from crown to groin. The blow had his whole
strength and weight behind it, and was a move that was invariably a decisive
one.

With almost inhuman speed, the warrior woman brought up her sword to block the
blow. Worf felt as if he had slammed his blade into a wall. The two strained
against each other, blade to blade, he pushing down, she pushing up. Worf was
amazed to find himself unable to make any progress against the mighty woman.
Klingons were, by design, very much stronger than humans. Yet this human
female was holding him off; it was costing her some effort, but he could see
that she was not exerting herself to her fullest extent.

The two stood eye to eye, chest to chest, knee to knee, panting with exertion.
Worf looked into her eyes, and growled a deep growl as he saw the feral
excitement in her eyes. He had rarely seen such controlled aggression and
sheer enjoyment, other than in some Klingon females he had known. Few of them
had impressed and excited him as much as this woman.

For her part, Brenhya felt the intensively male heat and raw animal energy
emanating from the Klingon, and had to admit that only once in her life had
she felt anything similar to the electric attraction she felt toward him. She
was acutely aware of the earthy, spicy smell of him, so unlike the odour of
human males, that filled her senses and heightened her sexual awareness. She
gave a small smile; she knew how this workout was going to end, if she could
get him past the dishonour she assumed he still felt.

She growled back at him, and his eyes widened as he felt himself being forced
back. He threw his full formidable strength against her, and for a moment she
gave a little, but then she countered and again he was driven back. He had
been aware of her strength as a fact, but was unprepared for the full power of
it. He had to admit to himself that she was considerably stronger than he was,
and was slightly surprised to find that this stimulated him even further.
Inexorably, he was forced back and back, until finally he had to disengage.

The two stood facing each other, panting hard and glistening with sweat. Their
eyes locked, and a kind of sexual fire passed between them. Worf showed his
pointed teeth in a snarl, and Brenhya's eyes flashed a challenge.

"Had enough, yet?", she breathed.

"Never!"

The Klingon launched another attack, swinging his bat'leth in a descending
arc. Brenhya saw an opportunity. She mistimed her parry. The double point of
the Klingon weapon caught her behind the ankle, and he swept her leg out from
under her. She fell heavily on her back, and he was astride her in an instant,
the vee-shaped point pressed against her throat.

"You are dead!", he proclaimed, eyes bright with victory.

She nodded and treated him to one of her brilliant smiles; a smile that,
coupled with his proximity to her, caused a hot swelling in his groin.

"So", she whispered. "Is you honour restored?"

He looked at her suspiciously. The possibility that she had let him win
crossed his mind. He banished the thought impatiently. "Yes", he conceded,
laying his bat'leth aside. "There is no longer any bad blood between us.
Nothing to keep us apart". He placed a hand either side of her head. His voice
rumbled with emotion when he spoke again. "Dun je Hos. Ghlj get jagmeyjaj!",
he added, giving a traditional Klingon acknowledgement of a worthy foe: Great
and strong. May your enemies run in fear.

Brenhya linked her hands behind his head. "Good". Her own voice was husky.
"Come here".

She pulled him down toward her. He tried to resist, but her strength was too
much, and his face was drawn steadily down to hers. Their mouths met briefly,
once, twice. She flicked her tongue across his eyes and down his ridged,
hawk-like nose, savouring the salty taste of his sweat.

He nuzzled at her neck, biting gently at the soft skin. One hand found a full,
round breast and kneaded it roughly. She moaned as waves of need coursed
through her, and she pulled his mouth to hers.

They kissed, long, hard, and deeply. Tongues probing and wrestling, mouths
sliding against one another passionately. Their two hard bodies strove against
each other, she glorying in the feel of a male body against her. A male body
that was nearly as strong as she was. She could explore this body, and did not
have to hold back. She ground her hips against him, lifting him clear of the
floor, employing her full strength in the knowledge that she would not hurt
him more than he could handle. Her breasts heaved as the hard swelling in his
pants crushed against her now moist pudenda.

Worf found the interaction with a woman that was even more powerful than he
was to be intensely exciting. He threw back his head and roared throatily. She
took the opportunity to sit up, more or less with the Klingon in her lap, and
drew his uniform tunic up over his head, exposing his deep chest to the air.

He reached behind her, and pulled up her soft leather halter. Naked from the
waist up, she raised her arms and flexed her biceps, letting him have a superb
view of her muscles. Eyes wide, he could not take his eyes from the fist-sized
mounds of power, covered in flawless golden skin. He laid a hand on one large,
full swelling, and marvelled at the steely hardness of it. The sight and feel
left him all but breathless.

Worf let his other hand cup one of her magnificent breasts, firm and
self-supporting. He tore his gaze from her arms, and let his eyes rove over
her muscular shoulders and flat, hard belly.

Brenhya's arms went round him, and pulled him to her, biting at his chin and
digging her nails into his back. He roared with pleasure again, and clamped
his mouth on hers. His hands found the simple toggle fastening at the waist of
her skirt, and ripped it from her, leaving her totally naked. She tightened
her strong arms about him, letting him feel her power, while at the same time
crushing her breasts against his chest and leaving him in no doubt as to her
femininity.

Not that it was ever in question. In lucid moments, between the surges of his
mounting lust, Worf considered that this was the most beautiful, most exciting
woman he had ever seen.

Brenhya was ready. She was wet, hot, and ripe to have this splendid male enter
her. His own readiness was more than obvious, his tumescent phallus straining
against the fabric of his uniform pants. Her hands went to his belt,
frantically tearing to get the obstinate thing loose.

Finally, she could wait no longer. Her hands closed about the belt, and tore
it apart, sending the buckle flying across the floor. He climbed to his feet
and stripped off the offending trousers.

Brenhya stood, too. Her eyes fell upon his long, thick, proud penis that stood
out like a bowsprit in front of him. Her estimation of the Klingon race rose
another couple of notches. She reached out and grabbed him by the wrist, and
pulled him toward her.

She plastered her splendid body against his, matching him height for height.
Her erect nipples brushed against his male ones, sending thrills of
electricity through them both. She clamped her mouth on his, kissing deeply
and hungrily, feeling his hard naked manhood pressing against her moist
femaleness. Worf began to move against her, probing at the soft lips and among
the glistening chestnut curls, seeking entrance.

They were engrossed with each other, lost in their mutual sexuality. So it was
a few long seconds before the strident siren encroached upon their
consciousness.

Brenhya pulled her mouth from his. "What's that?". He laid his massive head on
her shoulder with a groan, as the voice of Commander Riker ruined the moment.

"Red Alert! Captain Picard to the Bridge! All hands to Battle Stations!"

Growling under his breath, Worf pulled his uniform on. "I must go", he spat.
"Stay here until I return".

"Worf? What's going on?"

"Stay here!" The Klingon's anger and frustration were obvious in his voice. He
pulled on his boots and stormed to the wall. "Exit!"

The big double door appeared in the wall and slid apart. Worf marched from the
holodeck without a backward glance.

Brenhya's shoulders slumped as she watched him go. The doors closed, and the
cave was complete once more. She felt a mixture of emotions: frustration,
obviously, but also a touch of admiration that Worf's sense of duty was so
strong that he could leave at such a moment.

Her warrior's instinct told her that somethying was very wrong. She walked to
the place where the door had been.

"Exit".

"Unable to comply. Your security clearance does not permit this command".

"Augh!" She kicked at the wall with frustration. "Damn!".

Footnote: Sorry. My sense of propriety wouldn't allow me to let Worf actually
have sex. I'm sure the people at Star Trek wouldn't approve. :-)