Kr'Togr pt.4

Posted on Mon 28th Aug, 2023 @ 6:45pm by Commodore H'tek
Edited on on Wed 29th Nov, 2023 @ 2:51pm

1,643 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: O' the Cardiff Rose

Previously:

https://sb109.sim-station.net/index.php/sim/viewpost/2214

-4-

{Tv Uuld}

A ship away on the TV Uuld, the second officer caught on immediately. He knew the captain used beguiling tactics, but this one was a favorite.

“Paur here all is on plan. Yes, Gurn is hungry should we let him loose?”

Ranahnd was trying to maintain composure whilst suffering with a dislocated rib straining every breath. Lifting his right arm was agony, and robbed all strength from it. The Computer lockouts would prevent the ship from being taken, but the lives of the crew were not so safely assured. Hearing of this new question, Ranahnds imagination of tactics and violence crafted the reply to “Who or what is Gurn?” He tried not to panic, but imagined an animal, or code for a swarm of unleashed creatures designed to even the odds for these pirates.

The handsome pirate was truly having fun seeing the captain sweat, “Send him over here, I need to redecorate the interiors, put in a new hallway straight to Engineering.”

Ranahnd activated the mental implant for just this exact worst case scenario. Loss of a Command Vessel was beyond failure, it was humiliation. Redundant systems activated at the Cochlear parasite with a hum. A silent process launched the ships black box with orders to send a distress call after transmitting its contents and escaping the sphere of interference cast with these damned pirates. The Intelligence Bureau was always listening, and a ship this new was under scrutiny. Help was coming very soon, a holding action might be the only course left.

“Well, fetch him, and send him here to the bridge along with two ‘la for support services cracking the computers.”

“Aye, it will be done, I believe he has finished his preparations so it won’t be long.” Paur knew the performance aspect was important to collapse an enemies hopes of mounting defense, to prompt a faster surrender. Gurn was very much the stick, to make the carrot more enticing.

Kr’togr pointed at the feed showing the boarding team, a jocular affectation exchanging notions of seasoned experience to youthful angst. “See there Captain, we are not taking lives, few of your men have perished, a few of mine as well. This is that end I wished to avoid. Gurn will end this but he is a hammer that only hits nails.”

Ranahnd said nothing, pleased at his soldiers holding the line, despite the bravado on display alleging the contrary. One of the bridge crew stirred, and Kr’togr made a show of reducing the energy on his disruptor to near zero, similar to a phaser at low bandwidth meant to stun. He didn’t look at the target, but Ranahnd as he fired off peripheral vision and struck the young officer in the belly.

It made Ranahnd furious but composure and a popped rib held his tongue. Apathy to cruelty was the route he chose in hopes it would minimize rewards to cruelty and thus minimize it. “We all became casualties of war the moment you boarded us. My people will track this vessel down if you manage to take it from me. Sparing our lives proves nothing, when we suspect you will kill us after. No, we are strongest right here and now, so we will continue to resist while we have agency.”

Mellikor looked impressed, they had expected less spine from the inexperienced captain. His friendship to Kr’togr afforded special privileges, science and espionage was his wheelhouse while the dashing pirate played his role admirably. So emboldened, he glared at the Zakdorn who defied them, “You use a biometric key cypher right? And your computer will allow for operations to occur under automation within certain protocols, so I’ve already figured out the computer wont listen to me. Right now, I am overwriting your program with my own, and your cypher can come in saliva or blood. That’s the choice, the only choice. Five minutes left in diagnostic cycles K, we need one or the other by then.”

A terse silence befell both men, wielding officers under their command, pitted against one another. Grossly out matched and taking on way more trouble than they should, the gulf between them was evident. Ranahnd was a graduate of Zakdorn Strategic Command, given a Red-1 categorization for ability and assigned to a state of the art command vessel for deep space reconnaissance. Their true mission had been to root out piracy in the sector, but public opinion was well shaped around the current piracy issues. The Pirate Captain Kr’togr had provoked and stalked them on the three week journey from Zakdorn, always pushing, never letting them get a hit in.

This contemplation was abruptly ended at the volume of shimmering garnet and gold announcing the teleportation of a massive group. Knowing it was Gurn didn’t help the eye define humanoid shapes, his armor was not smooth or form fitting. Hanging from massive shoulders, a jagged chain mail of twisted scrap remnant stretched over leather and duranium plates. Enhancing the beasts three meters of natural height was another third of a meter was the prow of his Bat’leth overseeing the world beneath it, elevated above the behemoths shaggy mane. Every bit as tall as him, the sword was a length of carbonized metal, salvaged from the wrecked armor plating of a shuttle and twisted into a wearable form for the Klingon Troll. The sword was a kiloton easy, and when held by Gurn in a single massive hand, he became a turbine to slice the Gods themselves.

Sparing a glance at the Zakdorn captain, whose twisted and terrified visage showed a true contemplation of the monster before him, Kr’togr announced the nightmare.

“Gurn, I am sorry to interrupt your meal preparations. I hope the crew will not be deprived of your glorious Souet Ribs.”

A black mountain of creaking leather and dragging metal stood up, the crouching posture a necessary one for his size and the average clearance on most ships. A life spent perpetually stooping had given him a forward posture, and the level of scrutiny he attracted compelled heavy armor. The result was an upright standing murderous tortoise that filled ship corridors and ate anything with meat on its bones.

Deck plates rumbled, and ears pitched in whine as though a gizzard of boulders spoke in reply, “I have left the beasts to drain, I only took their lives moments ago.”

Ranahnd realized Gurn was the cook on their vessel. Such a creature of course didn’t need to be a warrior in any official capacity. One simple moment of consideration lead to the conclusions that this cruel gift from fate took to the predators skill set with innate ease. The very sight of the half ton mound of bladed flesh instilled hopelessness.

“Good, if they can survive your presence here for a moment, I must get to Engineering, and you can help me get there. Some doors may be locked, or we may face opposition. So, you just help ease us through those obstacles okay?”

Gurn looked at the trussed up bridge officers, “I’ve never prepared Zakdorn before.”

Kr’togr relished the look on Ranahnds face, “Well we are trying to keep them alive, in case the captain decides to cooperate. But if we have to cut our losses, pick the fattest most succulent one.”

Ranahnd sucked in his abdomen so the ample gut was less obvious. Gurn looked right at him with the affect of a predator baring teeth. He unbound a wild mane of hair, now unkempt and unbound flowing in frazzled locks to his shoulders. Scarred and pocked skin as dark as space, starly yellow eyes, polished and sharpened teeth with vibrant, stark red gums. The unsettling feeling of such demonic affect was universal to humanoids, to see it in person and directed his way crafted the despair Kr’togr had been working towards.

“Show me the way, I will want more than one.” Gurn was performing a part same as the rest, but truest forms of acting all rely on the emotional truths used to embody the characters performance.

Four hard doors, a corridor with an airlock, and the Engineering hard point entrance. Gurn would get them to the hard point, but he’d need his crew to enter a metal cave filled with explosives and defenders. If the battle came to Engineering, many deaths would occur, which was honestly, not the goal. Fast and merciless was the route to keep this from a bloodbath.

Mellikor spoke up, “I got site to site, I’m putting you as close as I can, moving hit squads around the ship.” Their plan had taken a few hits but the overall thrust of progression was falling into place as they had orchestrated. Two others from Tv Aald appeared on the bridge, while carrying two cases between them. Mellikor pointed to the left of his console, the Executive officers seat, “Right There, thanks.”

Kr’togr stepped closer to Gurn, knowing an area grab from the transporter was more effective if it had less area to grab from. He considered that a moot and somewhat humorous point given Gurns size moon as he was to a gas giant. He also reeked of garlic. Before activation, he managed to tell Mellikor, “Get TvAald scanning deep space, we can’t get surprised, and our boy here is awfully quiet and confident.”

With consensus the Romulan nodded briskly, and returned to installing a smaller computer core to the bridge controls. The two ‘la with Mellikor also held restraints, physical poly resin ties, unhackable or breakable with flesh and bone. Kr’togr looked at Ranahnd as sparkles swirled, “Last chance Ranahnd…” and then the bridge disappeared from around him.

TBC

 

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