Slave Trade, Part lll

Posted on Tue 3rd Dec, 2019 @ 2:33pm by Krell House of Mer'uk & T'Vala

1,132 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Resolution
Location: D'Valkra IV
Timeline: MD 1, 1930 Hours (Base Time)

Previously, on a very sandy planet in Klingon space ...

"Quite a silence for people who wanted help, even with the storm. I wonder how long these local haboobs last," Lissi said. "Good thing we brought emergency packs with us, but I really hope we don't have to spend the night here. It's better than outside, but still ...."

The door behind them opened abruptly and a hooded figure entered, holding an old disruptor rifle that would probably explode rather than fire. Her face was covered with goggles and a bandana which protected her from the sand storm. She maintained an aggressive stance and remained ridged as everyone turned to face her. "Who are you and what are you doing in my storage room?" she demanded in a stern Klingon voice.

And now ....

"We picked up the distress call and are responding to help with the injured and to see if there is anything that we can do," Krell said. He was completely taken off guard and that wasn't a good thing, especially for a warrior.

"Why didn't you tell us you were coming or that you were here?" She asked, but before he could say anything she added, "And there are no wounded here or have you been too blinded by the sand storm to notice?" She looked around at the faces, "You are a strange group, aren't you." She said then indicated that they should follow her. "Well, if you want to help then let's go."

T'Vala thought the woman herself was odd, but she followed along with the others. She wondered if she should give the woman back her aromatic sand. Better to find out more first.

Lissi followed Krell, and T'Vala, and the warriors followed her, spreading out as they exited the warehouse. Outside, the winds had died down some, and she could see the wall of sand had moved off. There was still some blowing, but the worst of it had moved on.

Now that the sand storm had slowed, the rest of this village was visible to the landing party. The woman lead them to a larger building towards the center of the small town, and they all entered. This was a community building, mainly used for gatherings, but now it was more like a hospital of sorts. Inside, the large room was littered with cots that held dead or dying Klingons, male and female. Most of them had wounds from disruptors, and they weren't able to stop the wounds from bleeding thus far.

The Klingon woman stopped and turned to face the landing party and took off her goggles and face covering. She had a long scar on the left side of her face, obviously earned in battle. "If you are here to help, then help. We have many wounded that need medical attention as you can see, but we are running low on supplies, too."

"We can bring down our doctor's emergency team and some supplies that will help," Lissi said, looking around at the massive amounts of injuries. "Maybe some of these warriors will not be going to Sto'Vo'Kor today." There was much less noise than she imagined in a similar situation in Starfleet's Sickbay.

"Hegh'bat," one Klingon warrior cried out. "Hegh'bat!"*

"oy' DaSIQjaj!"** Regos answered. "It may be too soon!"

T'Vala slipped off her cloak and her outer robe to keep them clean. Her under robe was sufficient for decorum, and functional enough without the elaborate dress of her formal attire. She carefully hung them out of the way and went over to a Klingon in need of basic triage and began to bathe and dress his wounds.

"This warrior is near death!" One of the caretakers said as she continued to monitor the young warrior status. Krell knelt down beside the warrior and held opened his eyes. Krell watched as the warrior's spirit left and his eyes glazed over. Krell looked up and bellowed loudly and others followed suit. The cry was a warning to Sto-vo-kor that a warrior was about to arrive. Krell's communicator went off, breaking his concentration. =A=Ambassador Krell, we have picked up a faint ion trail, it could be the pirate ship.=A=

=A=Send down Doctors and Medical teams along with medical supplies. Prepare to break orbit.=A= Krell looked at T'Vala and the Trill, "You two may stay here where it is safe. I'm going to hunt these Pirate Targ manure down."

Regos held her temper in check. She knew Krell was used to ordering everyone around, and having no respect for women he didn't perceive as warriors, but it rankled that he refused to admit that she, and frankly the Vulcan ambassador, too, were warriors.

Walking closer to him, hoping only the ambassador would hear her, the lieutenant said softly, "Sir, you know that contradicts my orders. I'm not your secretary, though you treat me as such most of the time. I'm a bodyguard assigned to you by Starfleet, and I cannot and will not abdicate my responsibility in order to remain safe. I'm going with you."

Krell turned to the Trill female in the Federation uniform and laughed loudly. He did find it funny that he was provided a bodyguard, and a female at that, but he thought himself a good judge of character. He liked the Vulcan and he was finding his “bodyguard” interesting as well. He smiled at her, not in amusement, but in understanding, “Very well, Lieutenant, I wouldn't want you to be reprimanded by your superiors for not performing your duties.” He glanced back at the Vulcan, “Are you coming, Ambassador?”

T'Vala grabbed her things and raised an eyebrow. "Of course. Why would you think otherwise?"

Krell spoke into his communicator, =^=matlh! jol yIchu’! =^= A second after that the landing party vanished in a bright orange light.

Immediately, Regos stepped back toward her usual place behind Krell's chair. The Klingon bridge wasn't large, and everyone had a place in it. That was the place she had chosen, as bodyguard. She wasn't relaxed on the bridge, but she didn't expect a threat there. She'd investigated Krell's people as thoroughly as it was possible for an outsider to do ... an outsider with access to some levels of the Klingon database in the consulate, at least. They appeared to be a sound and loyal group.

T'Vala took her place and waited to see what Krell would do next.

Krell glanced over at the helmsman, “Best possible speed, go!”

---

*The Klingon suicide ritual for a warrior who can no longer stand to face an enemy. Basically, the warrior is asking for a knife for the ritual.

**May you endure the pain! - A Klingon blessing Regos used here to remind the warrior he may yet survive to fight again.

 

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