He Talked Bad About My Daddy (Part 1 of 2)

Posted on 13 Apr 2017 @ 6:54pm by Rear Admiral Lirha Saalm & Commander Aren Ban & Commander Marisa Wyatt & Petra Varelli Ph.D.

2,275 words; about a 11 minute read

Mission: Episode 14 - Statecraft
Location: IKS DuJa'Q - Deck 7, Main Hall
Timeline: MD 03, 2200 hrs

[ON]

The door to the Klingon battlecruiser's Main Hall parted to allow the Orion general to enter. The chronometer on the nearby wall read 2203 hours which meant she was fashionably late for her rendezvous with the counselor and one of her XOs. The idea for drinks in the mess hall had been partially hers and partially Sandoval's, but in hindsight, Lirha wondered if a more private setting would have been better. She cast her gaze around the large room and noticed close to twenty Klingons present with only a smattering of Starfleet crew to compliment it. She'd expected as much and therefore had dressed in semi-professional attire which consisted of a simple dark gray leather pants and a silver Klingon tunic that revealed her bare green arms and a healthy portion of her cleavage. Not many eyes noticed her initial arrival which was a slight relief, but the atmosphere in the hall was one of late-evening rambunctiousness. Several groups of Klingons sat at nearby tables consuming copious amounts of bloodwine while speaking in boisterous native tongues. A few targs roamed the floors consuming discarded food scraps, and casually sparred with each other wherever they pleased.

Marisa managed to acquire a skirt and top from the Klingon stores. It was a nice change from her uniform, but the skirt was a bit too short and the leather vest a bit too revealing. "Maybe this wasn't a good idea," she told Petra as they walked in.

"Nonsense," Petra assured her. "You look great. Besides..."

"Don't start that again, please. We are here to have drinks with the General and Commander. Nothing more."

Petra, who looked a little out-of-place in a pair of slacks and a too-snug top looked around at those already assembled. "Well, it could prove interesting."

Marisa sighed and noticed the General had already arrived. She hated being late, but Petra kept fussing with one thing after another until Marisa threatened to leave her friend behind. She spotted the General and went to join her.

"General, may I present Petra Varelli. She's a Forensic Anthropologist. Petra, this is General Lirha Saalm."

Turning to face the familiar-sounding voice, Lirha took sight of the counselor an another unfamiliar crew member. Both of them were well-dressed in garments that revealed their physiques. "Hello, lieutenant," she greeted the Vulcan hybrid before addressing the other woman. "Miss Varelli," she acknowledged with a nod.

"Hi!" Petra said, grinning. "Thank you for the invitation."

"Thank you for accepting," Lirha replied. "The counselor tells me the two of you are already acquainted? From a previous posting?" She remembered a mention of another starship that had crew also stranded aboard Kreanus.

"Yes. We were both on the Cartagena." Petra looked at Marisa, then back to the General, her smile fading a little. "We're the only ones left. But we're both very glad to be here now."

Strange, Lirha thought while she glanced around the Main Hall. It was one of the more undesirable places she'd been in recent times. "Glad to be aboard a Klingon battlecruiser?" The more she thought about it, however, the more she realized it was probably a situation more preferable than being confined to the underground colony. The Orion suddenly shook her head when she realized her comment could have come across as rude. "I'm sorry, I mean no offense. My condolences to both of you for the loss of your crew."

"No offense taken," Marisa assured her. "We're happy to be off Kreanus, and this ship is a definite improvement." Although she had no desire to stay any longer than she had to.

The Orion glanced over the Main Hall's walls, floors, and ceiling while taking not of the unique Klingon architecture. It was certainly an improvement over the living conditions on the colony they'd just left. "Klingon starship design philosophies are refreshing," she agreed.

Aren had been a little late in arriving. He had gotten caught up going over maintiance logs for the warp drive that he had last track of time. "Crap, I am going to be running late." He said to himself as he finished up what he was doing and made his way to the Main Hall. He didn't have time to change, nor did he really feel comfortable in anything but his uniform.

It didn't take him long to arrive. Upon entering he looked around for the only green skinned women that he knew was aboard. While the there was a smattering of Klingon's, Aren quickly noticed the three women sitting around a table. How did I get so lucky? He thought to himself as he stepped around a targ which seemed to be feasting on scraps. "Good evening sir," he said directing the first greeting to the general, "ladies." He said to Petra and Sandoval. "I apologize for being a bit behind." He said, doing his best to smile politely.

Marisa looked up and smiled, pleased to see the commander. "Hi. Glad you could make it." She indicated her friend. "This is Petra, another refugee from the Cartagena."

Petra looked from Marisa to the new arrival and grinned. "Hi."

"Good evening, commander," Lirha replied with a small smile to welcome him to the night's festivities. He looked as dutiful as ever with his 2350s Starfleet uniform on which seemed to run a bit tighter around the chest and waist than the modern-day jumpsuits the fleet employed. "I trust no fights have broken out on the bridge so far this evening?" she joked.

Aren shook his head. "None that I couldn't handle. Though I might need to have a rather...forceful conversation with the chief engineer, there maintenance records are abysmal to say the least." Aren said as he took a seat. He turned his attention to Petra and Sandoval. "How are you both adjusting to the ship?"

"It's a bit of a challenge to find alternate ways to get things done because there's no call for a counselor on a Klingon ship," Marisa replied, "but I'm using some old-fashioned methods and they're working so far."

"At least there are people who want a counselor," Petra said. "There's absolutely no need for a forensic anthropologist. So I'm teaching myself to read Klingon."

In the absence of planetary science duties, Lirha thought learning a new language was a rather valuable use of the woman's time. The Academy required basic competency in at least one foreign tongue specifically for reasons such their current situation. "And how is that coming along," Saalm asked of Petra.

"Not bad. I can read basic signs and I know a dozen swear words," Petra admitted with a grin.

"I can probably teach you another dozen," Marisa admitted, grinning at her friend.

"You?" Petra was surprised. "You never said you knew Klingon."

"I don't. Not really. I know just enough to get myself in trouble, so I prefer to keep silent," Marisa admitted. "I've accidentally offended one too many Klingons. I have no wish to die in combat. However, while I can't speak it, I can understand some of the written language. Mostly having to do with history and archaeology. The language has changed over the years."

Petra nodded. "That makes sense."

"I was able to speak the language long before I could read or write it," Lirha confessed. "The benefits of growing up aboard a trade vessel, I suppose," she mused. She'd been creolized from an early age while growing up as a passenger in her parents' freighter. Encounters with other species occurred often, and the young Orion had found herself taking after her mother's diplomatic prowess with words and negotiations.

"It can be beneficial to be exposed to a variety of cultures," Marisa said. "I was an academic and researcher, so I spent more time reading ancient texts and not actually listening to it or speaking it."

Aren listened to the women's conversation, waiting for the opportunity to contribute. When he was on duty he always felt that he knew what to say and do. Though I wonder if that is because of training. He thought to himself. Though he had been noticing that recently, in some social situations, he was being less and less confident. Shaking his head from his revelry he half smiled, "I can understand that. I started learning Klingon when I was at the academy, though I hadn't really kept up with it until I was selected for Command School, then I really stared to take to it." He said.

"I prefer Vulcan and Romulan," Marisa admitted. "I'm always afraid I'm going to insult someone if I try to speak Klingon." She grinned. "Although the one time I did try it on purpose, it worked pretty well. He threw the first punch." She didn't want to go into the story of how she started the fight to help a friend get out of a sticky situation.

Were they not surrounded by Klingons who could overpower the entire Starfleet compliment and serve them up as a trophy, Lirha might not have minded the counselor's subtle boast. But the current circumstances required a certain degree of caution and respect for their now-allies. "I hope you will not try any such thing while you are on board this vessel," Saalm said in a quiet voice while glancing at the warriors in the nearby vicinity. "Everyone must swallow their pride and put the success of the mission before anything else. We can't risk another confrontation... and I was most displeased with the actions involving the altercation with Ensign Mimi."

"Definitely not," Marisa assured her. Especially on a ship full of Klingons. "I much prefer walking away from a fight." She sighed, knowing her actions with Mimi contradicted her statement. "As for the other matter, I was not going to let them take her tail--or anything else. I defended someone who needed help. I would do it again if I had to."

Aren looked down at the table for a moment to collect his thoughts, before returning his attention back to the three women. "Nor should you have. We can't have either crew maiming each other." He had read the report from security, both the klingon and federation versions, and both seemed to point at each other as to who started what. Just thinking about it, gave him a headache. He rubbed his temple for a moment, "I think that increasing security patrols, making sure we have a diversified patrol teams, could help cut down on any further incidents." Aren offred.

"It would also be best if the Starfleet crew avoids the more solitary areas aboard the ship," Lirha suggested. "Wandering around the vessel late at night," she subtly flicked her eyes toward the nearest group of Klingons who were busy drinking copious amounts of Bloodwine, "after the Klingons have been drinking, is a conflict waiting to happen."

"I'm one of the wanderers," Marisa admitted. "I'll be more careful in future."

Part of Lirha wanted to ask what the counselor did while she was wandering. Another part, however, was content to continue in ignorance as long as it didn't jeopardize the mission. After a few seconds of deliberation, the curiosity got the better of her. "What do you do, exactly, during your 'walks'?" she asked of Sandoval.

"Walk, mostly," Marisa admitted. "And listen. Sometimes I get odd snippets of conversations. Sometimes I take a minute to watch someone work. I do it mostly to familiarize myself with the ship and the people on it. I can get a good feel for the general mental health of the crew that way, too. People generally ignore me, so I get a better idea of what they're like when they think no one is watching." She shrugged. "I like people watching, and I like seeing how people interact with one another. It also helps when I don't have a lot to do. Sometimes I sit in a busy place and just watch."

"That's what happens when you have no social life," Petra interjected. "You become a creepy stalker type."

"I am not a creepy stalker type," Marisa insisted. Then she grinned. "I'm a creepy watcher type."

She turned her attention to the General and Commander. "I learn more about people that way. It helps me in counseling and in understanding different species."

"That's just her excuse," Petra chimed in.

"Petra!" If Marisa was not as social as Petra it was her own business.

The blonde scientist just smiled, not at all apologetic.

"As long as no one complains or feels uncomfortable with it, and you are staying out of the way of those working, then I don't have a problem with it. Though I do bet you here some rather interesting scuttlebutt." Aren said, wondering what sort of things some of the crew was talking about, both Federation and Klingon alike.

"If anyone complains, I'll stop," Marisa assured the commander. "Most of the complaints I overhear are pretty general. The food is bad, they don't understand Klingon, they don't like Federation personnel on the ship, they don't like the recreational facilities." She shrugged. "There's a lot of stress, but that's to be expected. I rather enjoy the random snippets of conversation that are out of context. Those often make me smile."

Petra's attention had turned briefly to a table of non-coms nearby. She turned back to the group and nodded.

To Be Continued...

[OFF]

--

GEN Lirha Saalm
Commanding Officer
IKS DuJa'Q

Lieutenant JG Marisa Sandoval
Counselor
IKV Duja'Q

Commander Aren Ban
Executive Officer
IKS DuJa'Q

Petra Varelli
Archeologist/Anthropologist
IKS DuJa'Q
[PNPC Sandoval]

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