Entaaro Nasz Pt 3

Posted on Sun 30th Apr, 2023 @ 8:45pm by Commodore H'tek

991 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Neither Yours Nor Mine
Location: Brown Sector Boulangerie
Timeline: MD1 0700

... previously

Brixton spotted a theme, “Service to the Empire then? Is that why the terror raids for almost two hundred years were done?”

-Start-

It was a fair point, Entaaro conceded it right away, “There was a time, when to keep order, and prevent civil war amongst our houses the “Suv’Wi” was declared, it enabled those actions as honorable ones if they shared plunder with the Emperor. It was a time where the Empires reach had exceeded its cultural capacity to restrain its citizens, and many of us regard it the same as you, a time where the bloodthirsty reigned."

Callista wasn’t backing off, “Ok, the Klingons my grandfathers fought were, pardon me, bloodthirsty psychopaths that ate their opponents and tortured captives. The terror raiders were one of the earliest threats to any colony world. How is that Service to the Empire and how is that something that gets forgotten.”

"Under the Covenant, it became profitable and easy to go and take from others, honor became attached to plunder. Killing was no longer seen as the inevitable result of a contest of wills but the idle destruction of life without purpose. They would have turned inwards, if they had not been directed outwards."

Brixton shook his head, "So are things changing then, are non warrior castes on the rise or what?"

Entaaro didnt engage further, “Klingons are raised with a sense of service to the Empire, and those who forget, or belittle service roles are often the rude or undereducated. Martok, our Chancellor was a squire in service to General Shivang, who witnessed his heart and elevated him despite the Mark of Kor upon his record. We have our aristocrats, and they have made much noise, but our culture persists because it is diverse and strong. Yes, the castes are returning to prominence. Savage warriors have their place, and usually remain there for a short and brutal lifetime.”

Having done much of the talking, he turned it to them, “Tell me about yourselves. What brings you to Starbase 109 Samuel?”

Sam couldn’t square the dissonance of his worldviews and the reality sitting in front of him. A Klingon scholar almost seemed contradictory, but here before him was a strong, tall Klingon wearing reading glasses and flowing robes. The words were soft, and the enunciations on par with a stage performance. He knew he was the oldest and highest rank of this little friend group so eyes were directed his way.

“I am a command division recruit. I hope to be accepted into one of the programs on board for Tactical or Administration.”

“A worthy field, you wish to command others?”

Sam truthfully didn't feel comfortable in the captains chair, but planning missions and detail oriented logistics was where he was most comfortable. Social pressures within his division pushed him into Command. Now seeing Entaaro, a Klingon at peace with their non warrior stature brought this into clarity for him.

“Actually, no I don’t. The thought of ordering people around in a crisis fills me with dread. I want to analyze data and prepare mission briefings, suggest and recommend, but command others? Maybe there are social pressures within our ranks as well.”

His friends were stunned, Sam was destined for the Captains chair and had never been shy to tell anyone about. Yet here this admission lay, on the table for all to see. Entaaro appreciated the honesty, “Well said Sam, never allow others to determine your path. A commander has a skillset all their own, yours may include those skills, or not, but only you can choose that which is best for you.”

Unable to stop himself Sam smiled, Entaaro was unlike any other Klingon out there.

Callista was even looking at him differently, “Sam I thought you wanted the chair, its been your goal since… ever.”

Sam shared a bond with Callista, they had met in the Academy, requested assignments together. She was amazed there was a secret he had managed to keep.

“And you Ensign Aruoar? How has your path lead you here?” Entaaro asked with a genuine curiosity, she was realizing this wasn’t baiting, it was conversation.

The Ktarian blushed under such benevolent glowering, “My parents are both in prison, I am the first in my family to live off world… Starfleet is my home.”

“Yes, we have a class distinction for your kind, they are called “Chosen Family.” It is a sacrifice to remove yourself from your family, but if you are stronger for it, then we are all grateful for your strength.”

Callista and Brixton were quiet, it was clear they were uncomfortable so Entaaro decided he had made his point well enough to leave. “I must report to duty soon, and I am looking for a suitable place to purchase my lunch. Is there anything you can recommend?”

His abrupt exodus relieved the tension, Callista looked at him finally as an equal. “I like Correia’s, they have a cheesecake I’d recommend.”

Entaaro knew an outreach when he heard one, so he openly gushed over the recommendation, “Cheesecake?!” He allowed his smile and surprise to sink in, “You Humans… You call to us for our diets like we imbibe poison, and yet, curdled milk left to dry…" He arose and made a huff over gathering his robes. It generated a small level of mirth and he punctuated this coda with, "..And you make a cake out of it? I am both horrified and in awe. I must try it.”

Entaaro spun to the counter and placed his thumb on the scanner, "I'd like to cover their meal as well, whatever charges there are."

Sam lifted a mug in salute, "Nice to meet you then Entaaro, we will see you again soon then."

Spoken by the fleeting grin of a man in motion, the words were lost to the air in front of him.

"You shall."

-End-

 

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