Krang stretched himself out on the hard metal slab that Klingons euphemistically called a bed. His muscles ached and he half wished he had accepted the pillow that Kay’vin had jokingly offered him. The Terran captain had turned out to be a worthy opponent and the two men had spent most of the afternoon in the holodeck. After an hour or so learning the basics of the katana, Krang had suggested trying it out against both the batleth and the mek’leth. The katana had proved to be a match for the Klingon’s weapons and Captain Mackenzie really did know how to fight although he had conceded Krang’s point about the quality of his mek’leth. They had started off using their own weapons but after a while, to complicate things, they had swapped swords, each using the other’s weapon. It had been a particularly strenuous and very satisfying session. Each of them had learned from the encounter and they were looking forward to the next match. Kay’vin hadn’t been so far wrong - he had grown soft, he reflected. He had been too long in the Federation and had become accustomed to the softness and ease of Federation life. He smiled, imagining his Terragnan wife’s reaction if she were asked to sleep on a metal slab each night instead of the comfortable bed they shared. And if he were honest, he had come to enjoy that comfort. It had been several weeks since he had taken over the captaincy of the IKC Hegh’Ta and it felt good to be living as a Klingon warrior again. It felt good to wear the Klingon uniform again, to live among Klingon warriors, to eat Klingon food – and especially to go into glorious battle against the enemies of the Klingon Empire. Finally, he felt, he was where he belonged.
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