And Klingons

Posted on Tue 13th Jul, 2021 @ 10:15am by Lieutenant Commander Dallas Briggs & Exo-Comp EXQT
Edited on on Tue 13th Jul, 2021 @ 10:16am

1,712 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Waging Peace
Location: Htek's Ex-IKS Vessel- SuvWi'
Timeline: MD 1, 1610

Previously, in Mad Dogs ....

[J'alla] fought as a pirate did, only when victory was certain. He was the right hand, the arbiter of change on board this ship and he would not be usurped. She would go for the weapon, because for her, you want to always fight with a weapon.

If he stood no chance to get it first, and stood no chance after she got it, then he needed to make his move as she went for it, and to deny it to both of them.

And now, the rest of the story.

---

She lunged, faster than he expected, but Anslo followed suit, already behind on the plan. As she gripped the blade, Anslo changed his stride and leapt off of the slight elevated platform, giving her eyes no target rising from the floor. She felt his hands on her armor, the thick braided leather, studded and ribbed as a bridge of protection and durability. It was also a convenient handle to someone who thought laterally. J'alla felt him fall and use his weight and gravity to slam her against the bulkhead faster than she could react.

So she dropped the knife, acknowledging the guile in subverting her advantage, but giving her hands free reign. Unencumbered, she grabbed at the hands on her shoulders and was able to spin them so they both fell hard against the bulkhead struts. As they grappled, her knee struck his ribs while her head spun under his arm. Anslo seemed immune to both hits, and impossibly strong as his grip on her collar maintained. The two wrestled and J'alla realized that Anslo was playing a game now. He could easily beat her without the Mek'Leth, but was letting her land hits.

Was Anslo trying to make it look like a fight? If he didn't make it look good, they wouldn't be satisfied. He had to be hit, be bloody by the end of it or it would just seem like more tricks.

The thought of being toyed with enraged her, letting the adrenal systems pump rage into her fight. She powered into feral punches with all her rage, this time her punches landed. It took all her effort, but he was hurt at the impacts. His response was an edged of hand blow to various joints, dismantling her ability to coordinate her limbs. The option he had held in reserve, deployed when it was needed.

It was over like that, no sooner had she started actually hurting him than he decided to end the fight. Try as she might, there was no chance for her to recover in the next few moments as he ended her coup in its bare infancy.

She had underestimated him, realizing he had never shown off his skill for this reason. His tricks were endless, and the intelligence undeniable. He was a marvel, surely and there was but one chance for her to survive this day with any honor. She had to consort with him. Play this off as an elaborate ritual for her affections.

It sickened her to think of it, but she would kill this man with her teeth in his throat one day, and so she swallowed her pride.

"Anslo!" Her plaintive tone cried out, and she peppered in just a touch of sultry. The cry stopped Anslo just before J'alla was certain his boot would have lashed out to her face. She pressed the reprieve, buying seconds for her muscles to recover. "Anslo, I yield to your command."

It was a fine chess match. Anslo knew she was not actually offering anything. Tanvi, a Cardassian female made her opinions known in a scowl at such a display. Tof leered, signalling the virtues of nobody. This was a performance for the hearts of the crew, and those hearts were solidly in the gutter. She could recover from a tarnished image over time, and she already had allies. The leers on Htek's face and the bridge crew suggested they had imaginations that only went as far as J'allas bosom. If he killed or wounded her, "it wouldn't play" Tol said. Tol wouldn't shut up, discounting option after option, Anslo had never had training to control the interactions, so the two were locked in an argumentative state.

Tol finally spoke words that were useful, and Anslo made his play, a solid hesitation already marring his stature.

"J'alla, by every Klingon tradition and Law I should grind you under my boot. Sit in the airlock for a day, and beg for my mercy the whole time. Consider if I hear one drip of insincerity that I'll space you. If I am convinced after that time, you may come to me in person to make amends."

As the men laughed, she knew she hated him, his mercy was cruel and this ploy was exactly right to lower her to nothing in the crew's eyes. Beg for mercy? No Klingon would ever. He might as well have slapped her with his gauntlet in a death challenge all over. Curious, how he was on trial for not behaving like a Klingon in the beginning, but now she was faced with the same dilemma.

So she decided to be damned for what she was, and to stop playing games.

"Then I shall die as a Klingon!" Her heroic moment was not what she wanted it to be, but she would take what power over her death she could. Her prowess was formidable but this was not how she wanted it all to end ... not that she had ever pictured an end. Might and vigor powered her final attack, disabled though she was. It was fast, and came so close to slapping the victoriously impassive expression off of Anslo's face.

He stopped her by the wrist, and she waited for the blade to strike. After a moment she dared to look and saw Anslo smiling, and looking much the worse for it.

"I would no sooner jettison our food stores then remove us of you. Gods, you are Klingon to your very core, and I will not fault you for that. If Lord Htek wills it, I would be honored to share in our fealty to the crew."

They both looked to Htek, Anslo prayed the man was cognizant.

Htek chuckled, as he was thoroughly entertained. "When you are sad, act! When you must speak your mind, speak it. If you two have finished your business, we must all continue ours. Resume your duties."

Anslo glanced to J'alla, who had been waiting for his gaze. He spoke in a low tone before he let her go, "J'alla, I will be watching. Back to work now."

J'alla said nothing, expressing herself in other ways. Picking up her dignity and honor, she tried to walk with purpose but knew she had lost everything. If Anslo was to watch, she would perform, and lead him down a path to his death. Understanding the purpose of subterfuge for the first time, J'alla began to plot.

As Htek returned to his seat and the bridge resumed a normal pattern, Anslo sat as well, reviewing the specs of the Antero as he nursed his bruises. Silence returned, ice kept forming, and the fires in barrels glowed green from plasma heaters, orange flames licking the soot black ceiling.

Htek stomped a foot loudly, getting all the attention in the room.

"It's colder than a witch's bra in Rura Penthe, have Gathon fix the heat, or I'll have his head."

Gathon had died almost a year prior when the ship took damage on a raid. They lacked a true engineer, which is why they tolerated such a state. Those bots had done some good for the ship, but had stopped working, Torak was their systems specialist, though his training was only in gunnery and energy systems. Anslo combined the crew with best skills into a shambling team but it worked; tempering Htek's madness was why the crew tolerated the Trill.

All eyes looked to Anslo, who merely replied, "I'll have the chief start right away. When shall we attack?"

Htek almost let out a confused grunt, "huh" but it shifted as his madness warned him of the slip. The vessel in front of them, why they were cloaked, it all came back to him.

"H...We shall attack when the time is right. Wait for it to send the next status update, then jam comms, disable the vessel. We want the information back in our hands to make sure it hasn't been copied. Interrogate and then kill the crew." Htek looked at the Antero, "This is a nice vessel, we could use it... do not destroy it."

As much had already been established, but it sounded good enough to pass muster. Anslo felt Tol churning at the thought of violence, but the symbiont was not in charge here. J'alla was back at her post, and the WarDogs were ready for deployment. Myto Hohn had gathered a group of killers from their other ships and outposts. They were not elite warriors, but dark souls willing to do anything for payment. Anslo hoped they would all die, the fourteen of them were beyond evil in his estimation, and means to an end. So he waited, the cold creeping into his bones by the minute. The Antero sent regular automated updates on the shift change very four hours, the next one was very soon, and would unleash Hell.

Anslo felt a small portion of the man he once was cry out in unison with Tol, the loss of life over their ledger was grisly and bad business. Jaren had been a bad hire, but came with connections they needed. His usage of the bots was foolish and now this hapless trader's vessel was about to live a nightmare.

A blip on scanners sounded when the Antero updated its position and course corrected.

He sent word to Myto Hohn, the one who had gathered them, to say the WarDogs payment should be released.

A signal showed the troop transport ready to fly. Looking to Htek, the word simply had to be given.

Htek nodded at Anslo's expectant stare , a chuckle under his breath, "Let slip the Dogs Anslo. Attack!"

 

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