Looks Like A Qa'Hom

Posted on Sat 22nd Oct, 2016 @ 1:33am by Warrant Officer Moklor of the House Karn
Edited on on Sat 22nd Oct, 2016 @ 1:35am

1,074 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Cloak & Dagger
Location: IKS Ka'tok
Timeline: MD 3, 1300 hours

"Look at him in that uniform", said the somewhat corpulent Klingon with the greying hair. "He looks like a Qa'Hom!" The term meant a small animal trying to look impressive.

Two other Klingons stood in the tiny, cramped space the B'rel called a transporter room. A woman of similar age with relatively delicate features wrapped her arm around the grumpy male and looked up at him with a smile.

"Q'tar, I know you are proud of our son... Our boy."

The man kept his dour appearance, frowning and twisting uncomfortably as he was hugged. "He is no boy. He is a Klingon warrior, even if he forgets it!"

"That's enough, father." The younger Klingon male approached his parents as they embraced. "I will miss this ship and I will miss you too."

"Don't let those humans corrupt you. They are dangerous people. They will make you have", the older man paused to grimace with disgust... "Feelings."

"You have made me strong, father. I will do well."

"Always remember your home, my son. Remember Qo'noS. Remember the Ka'tok!"

The Klingon put his hand on his father's shoulder with a tight grip. "I will never forget this ship, father. And I will never forget you."

The older Klingon grabbed his son's shoulder in response and then pulled him in for a tight hug. "Qa'pla! My son."

"Qa'pla", responded the Starfleet Marine. He had spent the past two weeks on board the B'rel Bird of Prey. He'd taken over at helm, mainly to keep his skills sharp. Flying a small Klingon ship wasn't the same as flying a fighter, but it was something he enjoyed nonetheless. He felt a sudden flux of emotion. He would miss his family. But he was a warrior. And warriors needed to branch out.

Moklor let go of his father and his mother squeezed him with a tight hug. "Make us proud, my son. All of us, all Klingons. You are doing this for the Empire."

"I will do my best."

The older man walked over to the transporter controls. Moklor thought he saw a tear welling up in his father's eye. He had been against Moklor's decision to join Starfleet from day one. He wanted his son to fight and die alongside him but knew his son heard the Warrior's Call. Moklor would go off in search of his own battles. Now the time came to say goodbye to his son once again.

Moklor took his place on the transporter pad. He carried one bag, the rest of his goods had already been transported to his new quarters. The Klingon raised his fist. His parents did the same.

Q'tar reluctantly slid the transporter lever into place, energizing. Moklor faded from the Klingon ship, particle by particle. He rematerialized in a transporter room aboard the Starbase with his fist still raised.

He stepped down off the pad where an enlisted crewman had been waiting. The Klingon immediately felt out of place. He had gotten used to being surrounded by Klingons again after the past two weeks. He took leave with his family after finishing a year with the USS Washington. It was the first time he had seen his family since he went to the Academy.

Moklor completed a two year flight program at Starfleet Academy. The Federation needed pilots. The Klingon had all sorts of people in his class, Bajorans... Andorians... There was even another Klingon.

The Klingon was snapped out of his reminiscence when the crewman saluted and spoke to him.

"Welcome aboard, sir."

"Take me to my quarters", Moklor responded, almost yelling. Now he was the grumpy one, acting similar to his father without realizing. In truth, he already started to miss his parents and didn't know how to deal with that emotion.

"Right away, sir", said the nervous crewman. He wasn't thrilled at the prospect of being alone with an angry Klingon.

The pair quickly made their way out of the transporter room and towards a turbolift. Free from awkward small talk, Moklor spaced out as the Crewman commanded the computer to send the turbolift to the appropriate deck. He stood, almost shaking next to the Klingon who towered over him.

Moklor's scowl wasn't helping to soothe him. The turbolift ride was running longer than both would like it to. This starbase was big. The Klingon hadn't spent much time, if any on a starbase. This would be a new experience. He wondered if his old Commanding Officer was trying to get revenge on him by sending him out to this stationary place. The truth was that there was more work for a fighter pilot on such a base.

Finally the doors opened. There was something about Federation vessels that just never felt like home to Moklor. The lights were too bright, too white. The halls looked Spartan, with no flavor. The panels and signs were all in Federation Standard.

But Moklor was not meant to be comfortable. He was already hoping for a chance to fight. The two made their way down the hall. They passed a blonde woman in a yellow uniform, maybe an engineer or ops staff. Moklor nodded to her and she smiled. Now that was something he didn't mind, being friendly to women. The crewman noticed and once they passed her, Moklor shot him a 'mind your business' glance.

The walk from the corridor was fairly long, but eventually they came to a door.

"Here is your place. There is a PADD on your bed that lists all your appointments. Welcome to the Starbase."

"Thank you, Crewman... Qa'pla."

The enlisted man smiled and returned the sentiment. "Qa'pla."

"Computer, open doors."

The Klingon stepped inside of his room, bag over his shoulder. He looked it over. Typical Federation comfort, at least compared to the Hammock he'd spent the last two weeks on. Someone had already mounted his bat'leth on the wall. The lighting was appropriately dim. The bed was hard and not as soft as a typical crew member might like. Everything was extremely adequate, if not comfortable. The thought made the Klingon scowl. He was a warrior.

After setting his bag down, he picked up the PADD. He was free for the rest of the day. Why not go to the Promenade? He had heard so much about the Starbase's facilities. It was intriguing.

He set back off towards the turbolift, doors closing behind him. Maybe he could get a good bloodwine here.

 

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