Imaj of Kirok

[Cmdr JFarrington 0]

Imaj of Kirok

ISS Manticore

Stardate 5108020.1

Be careful, Imaj, that your passions do not overcome reason, your lusts do not dull your vigilance.

~Nelra Kirok, First Senator, Imperial Senate

 

Being a man, and therefore knowing the ways of men, her father had taught Imaj well. But it was her mother’s wisdom that sculpted Imaj into adulthood. When it was apparent her daughter was coming of age, Imaj’s mother took her aside and explained several things, chief among them being that her beauty could be both an asset and a weakness.

 

“Many men will be drawn to you,” she said, “as they were to me. Be cautious. Choose wisely. But they will also be distracted by your beauty; they may believe you weaker, perhaps even helpless. Because of that they will be most vulnerable. As your father has taught you to use the dagger so will I teach you to use your beauty; they are equally powerful weapons. Allow men to believe they control you, and you have won.

 

“Be ever watchful for anyone who would dominate you – either physically or emotionally – and do not allow it. In restraint, in reason, and in strength of will you will dominate. Allow your emotions to overcome reason and you will sink into subservience.” Not long after, Imaj began a strict regimen of meditation, exercise, and education in the martial arts, especially in the use of extraordinary weapons.

 

She carried on her thigh the dagger of the House of Kirok, a largely ceremonial weapon, but a weapon nevertheless, and a dreadful one at that. Razor sharp, it was not to be drawn without drawing blood. In this weapon Imaj was expert, but it was not her weapon of choice. She used the dagger on her hip as a diversion, drawing the assailant’s eyes as he expected her to use it. In that instant of distraction Imaj would, with her left hand, extract a thin 2” spike from elsewhere, then deftly jab it into a vital spot of the opponent’s body to cause excruciating pain, instant paralysis, or, when inserted into the base of the skull, instantaneous death.

 

Despite her mother’s teachings, Imaj Kirok, bond-mate to Admiral Atragon-9, danced precariously on the edge with personal relationships. Of her attraction to her husband she was sure: his strength, his cunning that matched her own, his virility, and his sense of purpose as well as his ferocity in battle – and in love – had bonded her to him even before their formal bonding ceremony.

 

Of her attraction to Captain Sovak she was less certain, but she suspected it stemmed from not only his thirst for power but his passionate attack on her senses as they engaged in an intricate contest of wills. To her it was the ultimate challenge for domination, not unlike what she encountered with her Arabian stallion when she first broke him, straddling his roiling flanks, her calf and thigh pressed into its lathered hide, the beast’s great nostrils flared in fury, snorting in rage until he finally bent to submission. It was the ultimate battle, an elaborate dance matching Sovak’s aggression with her own, his passion with hers until they parted in exhaustion. Yet neither had surrendered; instead, an uneasy armistice prevailed. Was that her fascination? That he might eventually submit?

 

No matter what the reason, Imaj had convinced herself that her ultimate goal was to maintain the status quo, that for her and her husband to survive she must use every resource at her disposal: her father’s position in the Imperial Senate, her intellect, and her beauty. And she must appease her husband, whose ever-watchful eye prodded the recesses of the ship with his private surveillance cameras.

 

At the end of each escapade, Imaj turned towards the hidden surveillance camera to dress, then gave her husband a look of disgust that would hopefully be interpreted by Atragon as revulsion. But Atragon was no fool, so she had to be convincing. If he did not accept it she would do battle with him, but on a different plane, and perhaps a more dangerous one.