Escape from Mount Tarin (Part 1 of 3)

Posted on 25 Jan 2025 @ 7:55pm by Commander Morgan Tarin & Ensign Mimi & Lieutenant JG Hovar Kov
Edited on on 25 Jan 2025 @ 7:56pm

3,254 words; about a 16 minute read

Mission: Episode 20 - Reconstruction
Location: USS Galileo-A - Deck 5, Holodeck 1
Timeline: MD 06, 1030 hrs

[ON]

With a single large silver PADD clasped in her right hand, Commander Morgan Tarin approached the small double doors to Holodeck 1 within the upper bowels of the Nova-class starship. Her red-collared uniform appeared immaculate as ever - for now - but a slight change in appearance graced her form in preparation for the physical activity to come. Her usual loosely-curled dark brown hair was tied back behind her head into a ponytail exposing the naked lines of her toned neck and the thin veins which softly flowed beneath her cream-complexioned skin. She felt energetic. The desire to go for a run burned through her if for no other reason than to selfishly relieve stress and release a pleasurable dose of endorphins. Of course, she wouldn't be alone this session. Company was inbound of an unorthodox amalgamation.

The first to arrive was Father Hovar, otherwise known as Chaplain Hovar. When the Captain summoned him, he was in the middle of researching the Bridge Officer's Exam. He had felt guilty that he had a complete ineptitude of one of the most important positions on board the ship, well...two positions aboard the ship. Technically, Chaplains are not bridge officers. They are not required to take the Bridge Officer's exam, but Tarin had made it clear that with a ship like the Galileo was not like any other ship in the whole of Star Fleet. When Tarin would distract him for her "PT" session, he was in the Engineering portion of the exam. He stood at attention as he had clearly obeyed the command of wearing PT gear. Honestly, he thought that this was the Captain's way of asking for pastoral counseling. Then again, he could be wrong.

"Chaplain Kor, reporting as ordered."

The Klingon officer wasn't hard to miss and in many respects stuck out like a large thumb among a crew mostly composed of less...'robust' humanoids. His appearance was quintessentially Klingon which was a start contrast to the personal beliefs the man held. "Good, you're on time," came a casual dry inflection-infused remark from Tarin. "Hopefully I'm not prying you away from anything too important for this exercise."

Hovar's eyes reflected his curiosity as to her declaration. His understanding of human speech was still a mystery to him. Is she implying that she is hoping that she is prying him away from something, or is she hoping that she is hoping she did not pry him from something? If he was actually doing something, such as ministering to someone, would she be happy that she was taking him away from his duties of his sacred office? Considering that all he was doing was studying, he refused to put any more thought into it.

"I was only studying the syllabus of the Bridge Officer's exam. While I am ineligible to take it, I figure that I can be of use to you as a Star Fleet officer long before I need to be of use to you as a priest."

As Mimi began to come around the corner she saw Tarin standing there, the Captain looked relatively relaxed so she knew she wasn't late and was about to greet her when another much more bulky form began to make itself known in her vision arc... That of Hovar, she'd picked up his scent somewhere close by on the deck but hadn't expected him to be stood by the holodeck alongside Tarin. Pausing for a moment she gave serious thought to quickly turning around hoping neither of them had seen her yet.

The sixth sense of a warrior motioned for him to turn around, and his upper body twisted as he looked down at a particular Ensign of his...how could he properly explain their relationship? Would acquaintance be the right word? Or would shipmate be proper? He did not know what word would describe their understanding of each other's existence, but what he did know was what was written all over his face. Confusion. Hovar's confusion as to why the Ensign would be there as well, also in proper PT gear. Whatever was going on, Hovar had no clue. All he could do was acknowledge her with,

"Ensign."

After a subtle nod, he looked back at the Captain, curious as to what was happening.

'I knew it, I knew she would do something like this' Mimi thought, She'd had the feeling from the moment she'd changed into her Pt gear that Tarin might make this 'exercise and chat about the wedding' into a 'team building exercise' and the team in question being her and Hovar. Unconsciously she bared her teeth in frustration but it was too late to do anything about it.

The furry Nekomi's appearance contrasted sharply against the Klingon's in both stature and aura; two vastly different humanoid species with a single troubled history, culminating within the corridors of USS Galileo. "Mimi, very good. Let's get started." Tarin was short on words and assumed her future actions would speak for themselves. She moved to stand in front of the holodeck's small LCARS control panel then entered a brief key combination. "Computer," she started, "load Tarin-Beta-Alpha-Zero-Eight." The ship's mainframe chirped while it processed the request then replied back in a soft female voice, "Program initiated. Enter when ready."

The captain stepped forward and the doors parted with a hiss to allow the small cadre entry into the simulation. "Let's go. We don't have all day," she remarked while disappearing into the room.

The scene inside could easily be described as apocalyptic. The sky appeared dark gray with shades of purple, completely covered in thick overcast clouds. Barely any sunlight penetrated the atmospheric conditions which included occasional gusts of high winds and ashen volcanic debris floating down from the stratosphere. On the makeshift world's surface, the landscape was jagged and devoid of all life. Gray and black earth tones permeated the visual spectrum. In front of them was a large dormant volcano peak several hundred meters high. Its summit was barely visible from their position. "You remember this place, don't you ensign?" casually queried Tarin while her boots started to crunch some of the bedrock beneath her feet while she walked further into the simulation before coming to a halt and turning back to face her two companions.

"Yes." Mimi replied, just the smell of the simulation bought her back to the last time she'd been forced up this particular mountain. "Though I wish I did not." She looked over at Hovar. "The last time we climbed this, I spent the next few hours in sickbay with heat stroke."

Hovar was visibly uncomfortable, betraying his attempts to hide his internal struggle. It wasn't an exact replica, but the scenery was too similar. The Ensign's voice sounded distant as the sounds of children boasted about who could endure the most. His breath deepened; his mind raced in desperation. His eyes locked onto the skies, nothing else mattered. It was not the real thing; he pleaded within his mind. He was inside a simulation; he was a Star Fleet officer; he was...he was...

"Home."

Hovar did not speak the word as a priest, or as an officer. Hovar spoke the word as what he was, a Klingon who failed his family, his house. Hovar took a step back as the feeling of being a failure flooded his mind. If Hovar had any sense of honor as a Klingon, he should have done damned his duty and opened up his neck. Domine Jesu Christi, Fili Dei, miserere mei. Those words faded from his mind. It was replaced with another one as he took his step forward again, returning to his position, his eyes settled on the Captain. His nose flared out, the eyebrows close to the bridge of his nose narrowed as the outer eyebrow rose as his eyes opened. He was ready for combat, ready for suffering, ready to fulfill the new mantra that echoed in his mind: Heghlu'meH QaQ jajvam.

Tarin clasped her hands behind her back and walked to a nearby outcrop against which three large Starfleet-issue rucksacks rested. "For the uninitiated - you, chaplain - this is Hill 873, a location on a barren world designated AR-187 in the Chin'toka system," she began to explain. "Notably, this is the location where a major ground battle was fought between Starfleet and the combined Cardassian-Dominion forces during the war. In early '75, to be precise." The brief history lesson she continued was practically memorized by this point in her career, having conducted this particular group exercise close to a hundred times.

The captain flicked her chin up to the summit. "Three hundred Starfleet officers and enlisted personnel held off a thousand Jem'Hadar shock troops and Obsidian Order soldiers over the course of three weeks, using their elevated position. Most of them died and those who survived called it 'Hill 873'...the unofficial number of Cardassians, Jem'Hadar and Vorta killed."

"Obviously there were many engagements during the war but during this one, Starfleet officers from all departments led their teams in battle. Our people carried their wounded and supplies up and down this hill for 20 days, carrying more than we will and probably in less time. They understood the importance of brotherhood and duty to each other regardless of their upbringing, culture or species. They fought as a single unified element and because of that, their accomplishments have been written into history."

Tarin then folded her arms across her chest and trained a pair of stern hazel on both of the officers in front of her. "I heard the two of you might be having 'trust' issues, to put it lightly. We're going to rectify that, here and now. 60-pound packs, five miles up and five miles down together. Three-hour time limit. We move as a team and leave no one behind. Understood?"

Having barely made it to the top of the hill without nearly dying, Mimi flinched slightly at the prospect of going straight back down the same three miles, even with her legendary balance carrying half her weight back down the steep incline gave her an instant feeling she was going to spend a chunk of the descent tumbling. "Yes Sir."

60 pounds? A decent sized child weighed 60 pounds. For a Klingon, this was nowhere near his absolute max. But, going up an incline for five miles? That was an incline. It was one of those exercises where one is told to think of happy thoughts, or at least thoughts of where one might like to be buried! However, Hovar did his duty and he grabbed his own pack, putting it on his back. Looking down at the Ensign, Hovar was curious as to whether she would make it with the pack. Without a pack, no doubt. With a pack, that would surely do some damage. The priest in him wanted to assist her, to be ready to render aid. The Klingon told him no. She wanted nothing to do with him, and he would respect that.

"Grab your gear and let's get going." The captain quickly walked to the procurement area then hoisted a weighted ruck sack to chest height before slipping her shoulders into the straps and securing the waist harness. A subsequent glance up at the distant summit provided a stark and ever-present reminder of her personal grounding and the reason she'd originally commissioned into Starfleet. "Fall in behind me and keep the pace." Her feet crunched several fragile pieces of earthen rock while she quickly walked to begin their crusade.

Giving her arms a good stretch as she followed Tarin, Mimi grabbed her pack and made a series of adjustments to the straps based off her experience of the first attempt at climbing the mountain. Changes made she took a deep breath and carefully lifted and swung the rucksack over her shoulders instantly being reminded just how heavy it was; an extra 1/2 of her own weight. After a few moments she took off after Tarin not even looking back at Hovar to see how he was managing.

There was always a saying, pounds equals pain. For Hovar, life equals pain, so shut up and deal with it. In a very strange way, that was the whole point about being a Klingon. Personally, Hovar already knew the Ensign's opinion about him, so it was of no point for the more experienced officer to not even ask about how the less experienced officer was doing, even though they had one grade of rank in between them. There was no smile on his face as he started the trek up. If she didn't care about him, he won't care about her. That was the way.


52 Minutes Later...

The small cadre consisting of Galileo's captain, chaplain and deputy operations manager continued to ascend the large hill and navigate its jagged and tumultuous terrain. Collective and harmonious mastication of the bedrock compiled alongside the shimmering heat, thick humidity and pungent sulfuric atmosphere which was inhaled and expelled with each breath.

Tarin momentarily slowed then turned back to look behind her to the two officers in tow. Sweat glistened across her face and neck and her armpits were damp. "We're about two klicks from the summit. We need to increase our pace."

Normally 52 minutes of exercise wasn't anything bad for Mimi, even if it was uphill but with an extra 60lbs on her back, up a hill that smelled horrible to human senses but to her stronger sense was even worse and in at temperature far above what would be considered 'a bit too hot' she was struggling. Her few sweat glands not keeping up she was having to pant hard to try and regulate her temperature.

It is tricky to say that Klingons view patience as a virtue. Hovar wanted to get all the way up the mountain already and get all the way down. It was his nature, the part of his nature that he did not like to have. For almost a decade, he tried to fight the survival of the fittest mindset, the if they live the live and if they die they die mindset. It is a harsh, cruel mentality that Klingons embrace. Looking down at the Ensign, and then back up at the Captain, Hovar started to question the purpose of this exercise. Regardless of his own desires, he was a Star Fleet officer, and he obeyed orders. He also kept a silent eye on the Ensign, wondering if she was going to last much longer under present conditions.

It had been a silent ruck thus far with minimal banter or verbal exchanges between the members of the group. Tarin was content to focus on her own private musings while they briskly hiked up the hill yet that would be a waste of a valuable training opportunity. "Father Kor," she finally broke the silence, "tell us something interesting about Qo'noS - something neither the ensign or I might know and isn't in a textbook."

The glance from the Klingon was one of skeptical curiosity. What did they care about his home world? He wanted to ask Tarin why did she care? Yes, he was born and raised there. Yes, his House was there, along with his family, his friends, everyone that he had known, and loved, was there. However, he was dead to his family, dead to everyone he knew, everyone he respected, everyone he loved. He had to die to become what he felt called to do.

"Qo'noS expects those whose names have been disgraced forever to do their duty and fall upon their blades in riddance of their dishonor."

The way Hovar spoke suggested that he was not the friendly priest that they had met before. They were dealing with the Klingon that Hovar desperately tried to bury. This was a pained Klingon, a vulnerable Klingon, a sorrowful Klingon who had already accepted his death.

The chaplain's reply was terse and Tarin also detected a singe of reluctance to answer buried somewhere deep down inside of him. Resentment, possibly? "Ensign Mimi," she shifted the next query to the furred operations officer, "tell us about an interesting fact about Kemi Colony. I assume your species also has traditions of honor and duty?"

"Pride in doing our duty yes," Mimi said though he sentence was broken up regularly by her panting. "An interesting fact.....I was the one who discovered the dilithium deposits in a cave system a few miles from the colony."

Hovar listened to the Ensign as she spoke, as well as hearing about the interesting fact that she found the dilithium deposits near her home. There was a part of him that wanted to congratulate her on her discovery. However, he thought back to when he first met her, why she held Klingons, as a means of exaggeration in his mind, within the same sphere of existence as slave traders or colonoscopies. He made a guess as to what the relation to the two events was. If he guessed correctly, then whatever Tarin wanted to accomplish was meaningless, and he would not blame the Ensign. As with his current mindset, he only spoke when spoken to, and he remained silent.

"Dilithium deposits..." repeated the red-collared Human commander to no one in particular. "That's an extremely valuable discovery; the raw extraction economy alone would enrich your world and usher in trade contact with hundreds of other species. Assuming the Nekomi wanted to be a member of the greater galactic market."

"Oh it did, we traded it to a few people for a little while, it attracted some very nice people." Mimi took a deep breath to try and stop panting for a few moments. "And then the Klingons arrived and were not interested in buying it."

The Klingons. With each determined step she took, Tarin's boots continued to break apart the remains of solidified igneous rock which had spewed from the volcanic hill's mouth several months prior. "What did the Klingons do when they discovered your colony's riches?" She already knew the answer from the ensign's prior transgression incidents, but wanted to hear a verbal reiteration. "Speak openly."

"You know this story Captain," Mimi glanced over at Hovar, he knew it too. "They killed everyone rather than trade with us."

Sweat continued to lubricate the captain's cream-toned skin across her face and within her uniform. The summit was mere feet away now and she trudged through a portion of malleable earth which marked their collective capstone of the ascent. "How did they kill your people? Explain," firmly ordered Tarin between breaths. "Bat'leth? D'k tahg? Disruptor pistol?"

Mimi stopped walking. "You want me to repeat everything I told you two hours ago? What you already knew about?" She asked her. "So the Chaplain knows everything and you hope he can start to work with me about it all?"

Tarin's hazel eyes tightened and facial expression steeled at the rebuke. She stepped back down the hill several paces to stand in front of the shorter Nekomi. "Don't you ever question my motives, Mister Mimi. Answer my question." The words formed with an icy tonality not forgiving of repetition. "Describe how the Klingons who discovered your world decimated your colony."

To Be Continued...

[OFF]

--

CMDR Morgan Tarin
Commanding Officer
USS Galileo-A

LTJG Hovar Kov
Chaplain
USS Galileo-A

ENS Mimi
Deputy Operations Manager
USS Galileo-A

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