A Klingon Flew Into a Starbase ....
Posted on Thu 29th Aug, 2019 @ 9:23pm by Krell House of Mer'uk
999 words; about a 5 minute read
Mission:
A Diplomatic Affair
Location: Workbee Repair Bay 13, Deck 278
Timeline: MD 6, 1738
It all started with a rumor.
The rumor began to spread like wildfire, like it had a life of its own, consuming every mind that it came in contact with, and they began to talk about it. Now everyone knew, any secrecy was dead, the cat was out of the bag, and the Klingons were coming to the station.
The word was, a battle cruiser was ambushed by rival houses and was heavily damaged. The other rumor now circulating was that this particular cruiser had a high-ranking Ambassador aboard and that was why the cruiser was attacked. Klingon internal politics were indeed complicated and not easy to comprehend unless you were Klingon.
Hundreds, possibly thousands of people from all species began to gather in all the observation areas to get a glimpse of this damaged battle cruiser and get the latest intel from more rumors.
The massive space door slowly opened like a giant monster preparing to swallow its dinner. Unseen by the spectating masses, the three tugs had disengaged their tractor beams to allow the heavy battle cruiser to arrive under its own power via thrusters.
The massive ship slowly passed through the door. Huge blackened holes and jagged burn marks made it very evident that this ship had been in a substantial battle. The missing port nacelle still sparked on occasion, but no longer leaked any substances out into space. The damage to the cruiser was substantial, but it was a tough ship and would be capable of low warp on its own in under a day.
The crew had also suffered heavy casualties and would need more time to recover.
Everyone knew something unusual was going on. Deck 205 had been cleared of all non-essential personnel, and a veritable army of Corpsmen, Nurses, and Doctors had appeared as if by magic, centering on Auxiliary Sickbay 5. Civilians on decks above and below began gravitating to the windows which looked out on the inner harbor as yard tugs moved ships to clear a path to the emergent docking ports central to 205.
Doctor Chlamydia Addams, dressed in her favorite colors of black and blue, took a last look around the controlled chaos at the dockside, and nodded. They were as ready as they were going to be, she decided. Fussing at anyone now would only ratchet up the tension without useful result.
As the Klingon ship was towed into the inner harbor and nudged toward the emergent docking ports, Addams felt the strangest sensation of déjà vu. The ship was down a nacelle, her hull pitted and burned from combat. After a moment, the Doctor turned to look at her people. "Alright, everyone! As you can see, this is not a drill. Triage nurses to the front, gurney teams stand-by." The unnecessary reminder of the protocol reminded the medical staff what their purpose was, and they shook off the visual impact of the damage to the ship.
The helmsman turned in his seat and looked at Krell, "Captain, we are in position and docking clamps are secure, mooring is being attached as we speak."
"Very well," Krell replied. "Open all doors so that the wounded can be taken off and cared for. See to your wounds as well." Krell turned to his First Officer, "Do you have an updated casualty report for me?"
Tur'al nodded and handed Krell a Klingon PADD with the updated list.
Krell took the PADD. "Get your wounds taken care of. I'm going to remain here on the Bridge for a while and shut down systems." Krell watched as the Bridge crew departed, almost everyone had injuries from the battle, including him, but he felt his injuries weren't that important at the moment.
The Bridge was eerily quiet now that he was alone. He walked over to a panel and began to shut the engines down and then the major systems. He sat down in his chair and sighed.
"What do you think the ship's commander is feeling right now?" Sarah asked her tutor, as they looked down on the ship. Streams of Klingons, many showing wounds even as far away as the observation walkway, had exited the ship, but they hadn't seen the ambassador. At least, Sarah didn't think they had. Wouldn't an ambassador look different from everyone else? Wouldn't he be dressed in special robes of silver or gold, or maybe purple or red?
"I don't know," Miss Crane said thoughtfully. "I suppose he might be feeling lucky to be alive, because his ship looks badly damaged. Or perhaps he's worried about those who serve under him."
"Then where is he? Why isn't he outside the ship, watching to see that they are taken care of properly?" Sarah asked. At eight years old, she only knew one way of doing things - what she saw her parents do. She was sure her father would be taking care of his people. Then she reflected that he hadn't shown up at the site when the tram had crashed. The ambassador and her father might have very much in common.
"I think he's probably done all he can do and is leaving it to others who are more qualified in medical matters. He got them here, that was his job." They stood looking down on the ship as others around them drifted away. Sarah had hoped to see the ambassador. She'd known a few Klingons ... not known them exactly, but seen them. She knew they were as varied in looks as humans could be.
After a few more minutes, Miss Crane took the child's hand. "Come, Sarah, I think we will not see Ambassador Krell today. Undoubtedly, there will be official gatherings, however."
"That won't help me any," Sarah said, but she smiled. She wouldn't complain, because one way or another, she knew she would see the man eventually.
"Perhaps not," the tutor agreed. "But Caroline Post will most certainly see him, and interview him, so I expect that will do quite nicely."
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