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

Posted on 13 Apr 2017 @ 6:55pm by Rear Admiral Lirha Saalm & Commander Aren Ban & Commander Marisa Wyatt & Petra Varelli Ph.D.
Edited on on 13 Apr 2017 @ 6:56pm

2,815 words; about a 14 minute read

Mission: Episode 14 - Statecraft
Location: IKS DuJa'Q - Deck 7, Main Hall
Timeline: MD 03, 2217 hrs

Previously, on He Talked Bad About My Daddy (Part 1)...

"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.

And Now, the Conclusion...

[ON]

Loud laughter from a table of Klingons momentarily distracted Marisa. Then she turned her attention back to the others and asked, "How are working relations between the Klingons and Federation personnel going?" Those comprised most of the grumblings she heard when she was on her walks.

"As well as can be expected," Saalm answered with a soft sigh. She held her palms out to express a certain degree of whatever-ness. "We couldn't really expect the two crews to fully integrate. Different cultures, values, and languages. But all things taken into account...and the incident with Ensign Mimi aside, the vessel is operating at 90% efficiency. Well above what I had presumed."

"That's a lot better than I would have expected," Marisa replied. "It shows that both groups are trying to get along." At least on the surface. From what she'd seen, tensions were rising and something was bound to happen sooner rather than later.

A hint of a smile touched Aren lips. "I think 90% efficiency might be a rather liberal use of the definition. I am surprised that the Klingon were able to keep this ship operating at the level that it is. Half the inter workings of the ship don't have an original part or are jury rigged with the equivalent of tape and hope. I am hoping that we can keep the crew on task, and avoid any other crew incidents to the conclusion of the mission." He offered.

Marisa nodded in agreement. Both the ingenuity of the Klingon crew and the building tension were noteworthy. "I'm afraid we may see more little skirmishes before we get to our destination."

Aren turned his attention to Marisa. "As long as we stay vigilant, I am confident that we can avoid any such incidents. Though this is a long voyage, and we will have a significant amount of time being in close proximity to one another." He mused before shrugging.

"I hope so, too. I generally like to hope for the best and prepare for the worst," Marisa said. "I honestly believe that as long as we watch each others' back and avoid confrontation, it should work out well. We might even sew seeds for future relations."

That was a pleasant thought which caught Lirha by surprise. Amidst all the tension and chaos of their last thirty days, it was a bright light in the sea of darkness to hear the spark of optimism. "I think we would all like to improve our relations with the Klingons..whether they be Kreanans or loyalists," she mused.

For now, however, the thoughts of progress quickly gave way to a loud and boisterous commotion at a nearby table. Lirha turned her head to observe the increasingly-booming shouts and insults being hurled between two Klingons who'd previously been engaged in several B'aht Qul challenges. From what she could make out in their native language, the stream of aggressive epithets being exchanged had turned personal, and one of the large warriors suddenly stood and tossed the entire table aside as if it were a paper box. The distinctive ring of a d'k tahg being pulled from its holster echoed across the room and was followed in kind by a similar action from his opponent. Other Klingons began to approach the two and formed a crowd to witness the pending battle while the two Klingons at the center took up strike poses and slowly began to circle each other.

Marisa clenched her hand around her glass as she looked wondering if there was something that could be used to startle the group away from their fight without turning them on the Starfleet personnel. "What type of fire suppression system does this ship have?"

The Orion shook her head to dismiss the idea. She knew there might be objections from the Starfleet crew the first time they personally witnessed a battle for honor, but it wasn't their place to intervene. "No. We must let them continue."

"A challenge of skill, a wrestling match, beating each other bloody, I have no problem," Marisa said, her voice quiet enough not to be heard from anyone outside their table. But she still had a hard time sitting and watching two men try to kill each other. To her it smacked more of machismo and less of honor. "I have no desire to interfere and have them turn on me and the rest of the Starfleet personnel in this room." Although it had been a nice idea to have the fire suppression system cool off heated tempers. At least for a brief moment.

The sounds of battle cries pierced the air. The two warriors charged each other and one of them was swiftly knocked to the ground when the other lowered his shoulder into his abdomen. Once on the ground, the duel to the death began in earnest. Every Klingon around them started to shout and support the one they held allegiance to.

Marisa averted her eyes. But to not dishonor the Federation she remained seated.

Petra turned from the fight to the table of Starfleet non-coms. She made eye contact with one of the men and then stood. "Well, I think this is my cue to leave." She rose quickly, still not looking towards the fight. "Thanks for the drink and...good luck. "

She hurried to the door, followed shortly after by an enlisted man in a mustard-colored uniform.

Marisa couldn't blame her. "Bye," she said, watching her friend leave.

The sounds of fierce grunts, shouts, and battle cries continued to permeate the room's atmosphere while the two warriors now rolled on the ground to struggle for the proper striking position. One of them managed to wrap his legs around the other's midsection while pinning him on his back, and suddenly a flash of silver descended into his opponents chest. A loud gasp and series of gurgles ensued until the knife was twisted deep into the chest, after which the fatally-wounded Klingon's motions began to slow and eventually cease.

Marisa gasped and looked down at the table. Even though she knew this was the Klingon way, it did not sit well with either her Vulcan or human sensibilities. This was going to haunt her tonight. At least Petra would not be there and she'd have the tiny room to herself to meditate.

Cheers and jeers now sounded from the amassed crowd now that the battle was over. The victorious Klingon slowly came to his feet, his hair disheveled from the recent combat. Streaks of pink blood littered the front of his silver uniform and cheeks.

Lirha and her small cadre hadn't gone unnoticed by the Klingon crew. Each of the tall and muscular warriors in the Main Hall had taken notice of their presence even if they hadn't openly acknowledged them with pleasantries. And now, after achieving his victory, the blood-stained Klingon proceeded to wipe his blade clean on the side of his pant leg then walk over to where Lirha, Aren, and Marisa were seated.

"General," he bowed out of respect when he addressed the Orion. "I have defeated Kodon and now I claim my right to his position as assistant chief engineering officer."

Marisa's expression had become coolly Vulcan so that she showed no external emotion. The General, as commander of this ship, had a duty to perform and she would not do anything to dishonor the Orion, the Federation, or the Klingons. But she didn't have to like it. She looked calmly at the Klingon, then to Saalm.

Internally, however, she now wished she didn't have to spent the next few hours alone. She could use a distraction. It was going to be a very long night.

Aren watched the exchange between the Klingon and the general. Underneath the table Aren clenched his fist, though his face was impassive. Much like his Federation companions, this sort of thing bothered him to a certain extent, at least at a intellectual level. He knew that this was there culture, and while he was fascinated with Klingon culture and took it upon himself to embrace much of there culture, that didn't mean he didn't like certain parts of it.

Aren nodded a congratulations to the victorious Klingon. The small portion that Aren had looked at, the victorious Klingon had done well, and with considerable skill.

"I see," Lirha replied to the Klingon. She rose from her seat and clasped her hands professionally behind her back while looking up at the 6-foot-6 warrior. "What is your name?" she then asked.

"I am Marg, of the House of NaJuK," he answered, giving another slight bow of his head.

"...And your quarrel with Kodon?" she continued. "What was the reason for that?"

Marg's eyes darted to the side to look back where Kodon's dead body was now being lifted and carried to the medical bay's morgue. "He is of the House of Toral and he dishonored my family's name. He called my father a..." he bent down to whisper the most terrible and egregious of Klingon epithets, "...QI'yaH."

The Orion's eyebrows lifted in surprise at the revelation. She was fluent in Klingon and knew quite well the meaning of the word. It was an insult so terrible and unbecoming that it held no translational equivalent within Federation Standard. From a young age, her mother had instructed her to never write or speak the word, even in practice, and those familiar with various Klingon dialects knew it to be their own death sentence if ever spoken to a warrior. "I...see..." was all she could manage to say, somewhat shocked that a simple match of B'aht Qul had escalated so quickly.

Marisa's Vulcan hearing picked up the word. She had no idea what it meant, but understood the general idea. The look on Saalm's face told her even more. It let Marisa see the battle in a different light.

"Because he dishonored my family," Marg continued, "I was permitted to challenge him under the code of Mauk-to 'Vor, which states that any warrior may--"

Lirha waved her hand to silence the Klingon. "Yes, yes, I am familiar with your customs." As much as she hated to oversee and permit such hostile acts which often resulted in death, she knew his claim to vengeance was justified within both cultural and legal Klingon codes. "I will permit you take your new place in Engineering and replace Kodon," she reluctantly agreed. "You may consult with Commander Ban to arrange your new duty shift."

Aren nodded in understanding. He didn't have his customary PADD and couldn't pull up and make the corrections to the the duty roster. "I will update the roster at my first opportunity, but I believe Kodon had the 0730-1630 shift, though Kodon was to have a double shift tomorrow. I believe it was cleaning the empty deuterium tanks?" Aren said thoughtfully.

Marg grumbled, not very happy that his first shift would be menial disposal duty. But he was the new assistant chief engineer, afterall, and maybe there would be someone else who he could delegate the task to. "I understand, commander," he replied to Ban before turning to Saalm. "General, I request my leave now. It is late and I must rest before my new shift."

"A wise decision," Lirha agreed. She then gave a slight nod and a motion of her hand to indicate his dismissal. "You may go, then. Dismissed."

Putting a fist to his heart in salute, Marg turned on his heels and quickly departed the mess hall leaving Saalm, Ban, and Sandoval by themselves once again. The Orion let out a deep breath and sat back down at the table. "I suppose it would have happened eventually," she resigned.

Marisa let out her breath in a long sigh and relaxed. "Would this be a good time for some Bloodwine?" she asked. "Or maybe a good, long walk?"

Given the choice, a walk didn't sound as appealing to the Orion. "Bloodwine," she simply answered with a nod. Maybe lots of it, too. It wasn't like there was any shortage of the commodity on board DuJa'Q.

Marisa nodded and ordered six mugs. Might as well start off with lots. If nothing else, it would raise the General's status in the eyes of her Klingon crew.

When the mugs arrived, Marisa took one and took a sip. It was still terrible.

Aren took a drink of his Bloodwine. Ever since his joining, he had developed a taste for it. He wondered, on a purely philosophical level, if his symbiote had some Klingon DNA as he had developed an affinity for certain aspects of Klingon culture. Though he also mused that maybe it was because Klingon was first culture besides Trill that it was really exposed too. He smiled wistfully as he took another drink, wondering what other cultures he could try to immerse himself in and what would stick. "Not the best that I have had, but not bad." He said to no one in particular, knowing that he didn't have too long before he would have the visible levels of intoxication.

Lirha swallowed her own large gulp of the potent alcoholic beverage. Several gulps, in fact, before she rested her mug back down on the table and let out a soft breath. She could feel her insides warming from the Klingon drink as well as the familiar sensation of relaxation. "Not bad indeed," she mused in agreement.

Marisa took another swallow, more for conformity than anything. It was getting better, although she much preferred wine. "So," she said to the other two, her eyes sparkling with humor, "Come around here often?" It was a cliché line, and one she hoped would lighten the mood.

Letting out a light chuckle, the Lirha shook her head. "Only enough for the crew to see my presence, but not for recreation. Besides, Snuffles is still a pup and would probably be bullied by some of the other adult targs." She gestured to the pack of large, fully-grown targs in the corner with a flick of her eyes.

Marisa nodded. "Good point." She turned to Aren. "And you, Sailor?" she teased.

Aren took another drink from his bloodwine, to hid his surprise from Marisa's comment. He wasn't unaccustomed to sexual advances, though he didn't sense that that was something that she was interested in. Then again Vulcan's were notoriously hard to read, especially for Aren. "Yes, Chorag and I usually take our mid-day meals here." Aren said. Both had decided it would have been good for both ship crews to see them working together, even if it was only just a facade.

Okay, so that was clearly the wrong thing to say. "That's a good idea. Showing unity should help ease tensions," she replied, beginning to feel awkward. She was totally failing at lighthearted banter. She was too much of an introvert and she clearly lacked the skill, even if she understood the concept. She'd seen others use it to change the mood of a group. But she was the wrong type, and this was clearly the wrong group.

Marisa finished the first of her mugs of Bloodwine. She wasn't much of a drinker and while she had a naturally high tolerance for alcohol, she was feeling too warm and too uncomfortable. It was definitely time to find some place quieter.

She stood, putting a hand on the table for a moment. The emotion of the evening was getting to her, aided by the wine. She briefly considered asking the Commander if he wanted to join her for a walk. She enjoyed his company and conversation. A conversation might help her clear her head. But she was not going to take up any more of his time. A quiet walk around the ship or some meditation would do. "Goodnight, general, commander. It has been an...interesting evening."

She gave them each a formal Vulcan bow and walked out of the lounge.

[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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