Star Trek: Theurgy

[Lieutenant Alistair Leavitt (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Alistair_Leavitt) | Lower Cargo Bay | Deck 28 | USS Theurgy ] Attn. @Dree
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By rights, finding a specific item aboard the Theurgy should've been simple:  run a computer search, get the item's exact location, find it, use it and be happy. Aboard most Starfleet ships, that was indeed how it worked, and had worked for two centuries. Even primitive Earth ships first leaving Sol had utilised the system. It was an everyday convenience that was simply taken for granted and given little thought.

Except, of course, when onboard a renegade dreadnought that, for many months, had fought one battle after another, barely escaping destruction on multiple occasions, had been given slapdash repairs and had been cut off from Starfleet supply chains. As Alistair slowly realised during one long shift, the Theurgy's inventory system had become a disaster since fleeing Earth. Searching for a simple tool, which should've taken ten seconds, ended up consuming two tedious hours of Alistair's life.

He had considered getting help; Selena, Joseph, even Lieutenant sh'Laan, whom Alistair hadn't met yet since she'd been awoken from stasis. Nevertheless, as much out of stubbornness as anything, he ploughed on alone from one cargo bay to another, determined to find the tool before finishing work. It would be downright irritating to be spending time with Enyd with the spectre of the kicker looming in his brain.

Thus, Alistair was quite distracted as he entered the final cargp bay on his tour. He noticed the Andorian lieutenant and raised a hand in greeting.

"Hi!" he said jovially. "You must be from Engineering, right? Sorry, don't mind me, just looking for something..." With that, he looked around the cavernous cargo bay, which (like the others) was full to the brim, just in case the Theurgy had to spend another few months (or longer) without support. The sight of so many crates, boxes and shelves was intimidating. As he tried to think, an insistent niggle was in the back of Alistair's mind...and, after a good minute, realisation finally bloomed.

"Oh." Alistair looked back at the lieutenant with a wince. "Er...I feel like an idiot right now. You wouldn't happen to be Lieutenant Reika sh'Laan, would you?"

[ Lt Reika Sh'laan | Lower Cargo Bay | Deck 28 | USS Theurgy ]  attn @Griff

Reika stood halfway down one of the walkways that wriggled its way across the Cargo Bay.  Normally, the paths between the cartons of supplies would have been straight and wide.  But the fact that they were slightly haphazard and rather narrow spoke to the sheer volume of items that they were trying to store in that area of the ship.   This being her first full day on duty, the Andorian had decided to refamiliarize herself with their various storage facilities.  She was trying to determine the actual state of their supplies, not just what the computer said they had. 

On a computer screen, the Theurgy's inventory system was the same system that was in place when she ended up in stasis, but using the same system and utilizing it effectively were .... well were obviously two different things.  But after what she read last night, she could fully understand why things were so helter-skelter here in the bowels of the ship.   Once she had the chance to make an assessment of where the department was and in which of the needed areas her strengths lie, she could speak to Lieutenant Ravenholm about it.

As she took another step down the walkway, trying to identify the various cartons, Reika heard the door swish open.  She raised her eyes to see who else was down here in the cargo bay.   Spotting another gold uniform, she smiled.

"Hi!" he said jovially. "You must be from Engineering, right? Sorry, don't mind me, just looking for something..."

The assumption made sense.  She was wearing gold, and was unfamiliar to him - as he was to her.  But if he assumed she was engineering, was he ... Operations?

"Oh.  Er...I feel like an idiot right now. You wouldn't happen to be Lieutenant Reika sh'Laan, would you?"

"Exactly right," she said with a friendly nod. "Which tells me that you're probably in Operations as well.  I haven't had too much time to study the roster, but you don't strike me as a "Selena."  She grinned at him. "So which Operations Officer do I have the pleasure of addressing?"  Reika walked over toward the door, and placing her PADD under her left arm she extended her right hand to her fellow officer in gold.

[Lieutenant Alistair Leavitt (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Alistair_Leavitt) | Lower Cargo Bay | Deck 28 | USS Theurgy ] Attn. @Dree
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Alisrair was the picture of awkwardness as he shook Reika's hand, not reacting to the startling sensation of her cool hand. Reika's grin was welcome, speaking volumes about her already, and Alistair forced himself to relax.

"Alistair Leavitt," he said amicably, smiling back. "I'm the other assistant COO. Selena told me about you, but I haven't had the chance to look you up yet." Literally, as Reika had several centimeters on him. "To be honest, I'm glad that you're here. Uh...here in a general sense, I mean, but the specific sense too. We've been shorthanded since Chambers died. I really have no idea how Commander Stark kept Ops running for all that time with no support."

Realising that he was rambling, Alistair clamped his mouth shut for a moment. "I'm just here looking for a kicker to sort out the QCC...uh, quartenary computer core. It's been driving me up the wall for weeks, ever since the coolant system got backed up. What about you?" After a moment's thought, Alistair shrugged. "We could help each other while we're both in here, if you like. Team-building and all of that stuff. Besides, I read a few of your tech logs while I was doing a crash course on the ship's systems, so I'd appreciate seeing how you work. Your logs were very concise and efficient."

[ Lt Reika Sh'laan | Lower Cargo Bay | Deck 28 | USS Theurgy ]  attn @Griff

It was nice to meet another crewmember, but doubly nice to meet one that she would likely be working more regularly with. 

“Alistair Leavitt. "I'm the other assistant COO,” he said. 

"It's nice to meet you, Leavitt.  Or do you prefer that I call you Alistair unless we're around other crew?"  Reika noticed the Alistair seemed to flash between uncomfortable and cordial.  “Makes sense,” she thought.  “He wasn’t expecting to meet up with me here.” 

"To be honest, I'm glad that you're here. Uh...here in a general sense, I mean, but the specific sense too. We've been shorthanded since Chambers died. I really have no idea how Commander Stark kept Ops running for all that time with no support."

“Yeah, I was just down here trying to get a handle on where things really are - not where the computer says that we are,” she removed the PADD from under her arm and waved the end of it, as if to show that’s why she was here.  “If things are hectic, it’s hard to keep the two systems synced up, ya know?  I mean the computer system’s the same as before I was frozen, but our storage system seems to have gotten a little … unwieldy?”  It wasn’t so much a question as hoping she wouldn’t offend him with the state in which she found it.  She really did understand how easily it could happen.

"We could help each other while we're both in here, if you like. Team-building and all of that stuff. Besides, I read a few of your tech logs while I was doing a crash course on the ship's systems, so I'd appreciate seeing how you work. Your logs were very concise and efficient."

“Wow,” the Andorian said, her eyebrow raised slightly and a half smile wound its way onto her face.  “Thank you.  I’m glad they were helpful.  You have to be pretty dedicated to read tech logs.  Most people avoid them like the plague.”  Her eyes ran around the room before fixing themselves back on Leavitt’s.  “As I’m just down here to assess where things are, there’s no better way to do that then to help you find what we need for the QCC.”  Reika initiated a search on her PADD to see if the computer listed the location of any of its components.  “According to this, some of they should be down aisle 1, slot 4, carton 2.”  Glancing up at him, her eyes twinkled slightly. “Any chance that it’s the right components or that they are where they’re supposed to be?”

[Lieutenant Alistair Leavitt (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Alistair_Leavitt) | Lower Cargo Bay | Deck 28 | USS Theurgy ] Attn. @Dree
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At Reika's question, Alistair relaxed further. "Alistair is fine when it's just us, or...well, us and Selena. Or anyone in Ops, really. I don't know what it was like before Earth happened, but we're pretty casual now. It's great, to be honest. I've served with CO's who were strict on protocol and it drove everyone up the wall."

Reika's description of the inventory system as 'unwieldy' drew a laugh, and Alistair didn't object, merely smiling. She was, of course, exactly right, and at her amused query of whether the kicker would be where the computer said it was drew another chuckle. "About as likely as running an all-systems level six diagnostic and reading no errors, first time. That happened to me once, back on the Pioneer. We actually had a party."

Admittedly Operations officers, as a whole, were not known for their humour.

The two lieutenants walked into the cargo bay until they reached the spot, and though momentarily buoyed by seeing a case exactly where it was supposed to be, Alistair's optimism was dashed as he opened the box to find...

"What are these!?" Kneeling on the deck beside the open box, Alistair stared at the six long rods that had been roughly jammed into a container that was clearly not designed for it. Klingon lettering was visible on the rods, in stark contrast to the Starfleet-stamped box that they were in, and realisation struck.

"They're pain sticks," Alistair said in bafflement. "How in the...this is the right box for a kicker, the inventory code matches..." Looking up at Reika, he laughed softly in bewilderment. "Okay, Reika...uh, sorry, Lieutenant, I didn't mean to assume. I've got nothing. Who takes an advanced piece of Federation technology and replaces it with pain sticks?"

[ Lt Reika Sh'laan ] Lower Cargo Bay | Deck 28 | USS Theurgy ]  attn @Griff

Glancing at Alistair as he answered her question, the lanky Andorian nodded and a pleasant smile spread across her face.  It was nice to know that some things on the Theurgy didn’t change when she was frozen.  Having a slightly relaxed atmosphere when they weren’t in battle was something she had always appreciated.  And more than that, it was nice to hear that a lot of the ship functioned under that assumption.  It would certainly make reintegrating into the daily grind on the ship easier.  “I’m lucky to never have had a CO that had a stick up his ass when it came off-bridge protocol unless we had a visiting dignitary or we were in a battle situation.  And I'm glad to hear some things around here haven’t changed all that much - at least in that way, though crew turn-over was shockingly high.  I only know a handful of people anymore."

And as he described the current state of the inventory system, she smiled and nodded her head.  “I may be able to help there.  I have a penchant for order, so depending on how much time Selena allows me to spend down here working to get everything back into place and how much manpower she’s willing to allocate to help, things could change - at least marginally,” she said as the two started down the aisle that was marked as the location of the QCC.  “Now granted, requests and acquisitions are less my thing,” she said, sliding the PADD back under her arm.  “It’s one of those trade-offs ya know?  I mean, I can if I need to, but organizing and cataloging tend to be my thing.”  Reika knew that she wasn’t the answer to all of the Theurgy operations challenges, but she did know one or two of the areas where her expertise lay, and if she were given the opportunity to focus some time there, she definitely would.

Landing at the spot indicated by the PADD, Reika watched as Alistair hefted the carton open and knelt down by its side.  “What are these?”

Reika crouched down and lifted one of the long, skinny cylinders with a handle at one end and two electrode-like projections at the end.  She stood and held the handle in one hand cradling the middle of the rod in her other.  She rolled her eyes and stifled a laugh. 

"They're pain sticks.  How in the...this is the right box for a kicker, the inventory code matches... "Okay, Reika...uh, sorry, Lieutenant, I didn't mean to assume. I've got nothing. Who takes an advanced piece of Federation technology and replaces it with pain sticks?"

“Feel free to call me Reika.  You know how many Lieutenants there are aboard?  There’s just one Reika,” she said with a grin, as she shook her head at the item she held in her hand.  “So do we have a problem with fencing Federation merchandise and replacing them with Klingon trinkets?” It was both amusing and serious.  If there really was a problem it had to be addressed, but she gave the person who did kudos for their … originality. 

“So what do we do, Alistair?  If we need the part, we either take the entire storage room apart and hope that it’s here or ….is there another option?” she asked as she carefully slid the cylinder back into the wrongly labeled carton.  “But while we’re at it, at least I can fix one thing,” she removed the PADD from under her arm and changed the contents of the box to match what was actually in it.

[Lieutenant Alistair Leavitt (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Alistair_Leavitt) | Lower Cargo Bay | Deck 28 | USS Theurgy ] Attn. @Dree
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Perplexed, Alistair stood and crossed his arms, although secretly, he felt a familiar buzz of excitement. The tedious scavenger hunt was verging on becoming on actual mystery, the sort of problem that was always fun to solve. The bizarre but wonderful foray into the Theurgy's bowels lingered in his mind and suddenly, a bulb sparked.

"I have an idea," Alistair said, looking somewhat daft with his mouth slightly open as he pondered. 
 He crouched down and pulled out a pain stick, eyeing it carefully. "Computer, run an inventory search on Klingon pain sticks, total timeframe."

Thea's voice answered, though with the AI busy doing other things, the computer-generated simalcrum was distinctly robotic. "No results found."

Smiling slowly, Alistair resealed the carton and put it back on its shelf before walking away, talking as he went. "Our system might be a mess, but the Klingon system isn't," he said brightly, still holding the pain stick in one hand. Alistair abruptly stopped then, and he glanced at Reika, still smiling. "Oh, uh, I'm happy to help you with the inventory clean-up too. Logistical software is my specialty, to be honest. If I write an algorithm to reconfigure the system, improve efficiency and highlight inventory items by likelihood of missorting, would you like to deal with the physical clean-up, re-organisation and cataloguing? I can cover your duties for a bit if necessary."

With Reika's reply, Alistair continued on his way. Soon enough the two lieutenants had returned to the cargo bay entrance, but rather than make for the door, Alistair headed for a console mounted on a bulkhead. With clear enthusiasm, he set the pain stick aside and started working the console. His hands flew across the LCARS interface, only pausing briefly to scan the pain stick before resuming.

"Klingon systems aren't pretty, but they are efficient..." Alistair murmured to himself, his eyes fixed on the screen as a flurry of data and graphics flew by. "And...there! These pain sticks came from the...uh...Haqqa Haqqa inventory depot, right here on Qo'nos." Looking at Reika with an excited grin, Alistair said "So...field trip? I've always wanted to see a Klingon depot." Realising how absurd he must sound, Alistair grimaced, one hand sliding over his scalp. "Er...long story. They do have interesting cataloguing systems."

[ Lt Reika Sh'laan ] Lower Cargo Bay | Deck 28 | USS Theurgy ]  attn @Griff

Reika stood there as Alistair puzzled through how in the world the Painsticks got into the crate marked for a computer part.   The Andorian couldn't tell if he was more annoyed or just deep in thought, though time working together would eventually help her perception of what was going through his head.  

He certainly was an interesting human.  When he got a negative response from the computer, he grinned.  She tilted her head, watching him as his response wasn't one she would have expected.

"Oh, uh, I'm happy to help you with the inventory clean-up too. Logistical software is my specialty, to be honest. If I write an algorithm to reconfigure the system, improve efficiency and highlight inventory items by likelihood of missorting, would you like to deal with the physical clean-up, re-organisation and cataloguing? I can cover your duties for a bit if necessary."

She took a moment to think through his proposal.  It seemed fair and equitable enough for her, and considering that - in many ways - she was low-man on the totem pole, the fact that he cared about what she thought was a nice change to some of the other co-workers she'd interacted with in the past.  "Yeah.  I don't mind doing the grunt work.  I'm more of a visual person anyway.  Seeing things in their rightful places is a better way to remember them than just a catalog.  It's easier for me to put my hands on things later.  Besides, there's a sense of satisfaction when things are neat and well organized.

But before she finished speaking, he was off, and this time, she could tell he was excited by something.  The Andorian followed after him curious to see where this all was going to lead, but instead of heading out of the cargo bay, he made his way to a terminal.  "So...field trip? I've always wanted to see a Klingon depot."

At the words "Field trip," Reika's antannae stood erect and a smile played across her lips.  She perched herself against one of the bulkheads, doing a damn good job of holding it up while her thoughts continued,  "There must be some story behind wanting to see a Klingon depot.  Someday when we have time, you'll have to enlighten me."   

But with her thoughts running on, she almost didn't pause, though she watched for Leavitt's visual response.  "So will we be taking these," she nodded her head at the pain stick still in his hand, "with us?  And are you assuming that someone traded our QCC part for these? I can't imagine why in the world, someone would do such a thing, but I have been out of it for awhile."

[Lieutenant Alistair Leavitt (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Alistair_Leavitt) | Lower Cargo Bay | Deck 28 | USS Theurgy ] Attn. @Dree
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Alistair grinned back at Reika, quite plainly in his element and loving every second. "I know, it sounds dumb, but it happens. You wouldn't believe some of the things that I've seen happen to inventory. For instance, back on Tellar, we once spent a full day filling a tent with geological equipment and samples in the caldera of a volcano. The next day, we came back to find the tent full of Cardassian kanar instead, plus a few thousand copies of Vulcan Love Slave. We had no idea what happened. Local law enforcement investigated for weeks and couldn't figure it out, or even why the stuff was stolen. In monetary value, the kanar and holoprograms were worth a hundred times our equipment."

Still smiling, Alistair idly rolled the pain stick in his hands as he spoke. "Anyway, two months later, the university gets a call from Starfleet. A starship had answered a distress call from a beat up Orion freighter and found our stuff in the cargo bay. The crew were trying to be suave thieves, apparently, but it was their very first heist, and they thought that our geological equipment was some sort of secret advanced technology. The stuff that they left behind was a joke, a calling card. They'd have gotten away with it too, except their chief engineer decided to use a seismic resonator as a back-scratcher. She accidentally turned it on, the vibrations damaged the warp core, and they had to call for help."

Realising that he was babbling, Alistair paused, tracing the prongs of the business end with his thumb. "Uh...anyway. You get my point. Weird things happen. We might as well take the pain sticks with us. It's not like anyone on the crew would want to use them. Uh, well..." Thinking back to the baffling people that he'd met thus far, Alistair frowned. "Most wouldn't. Probably. Hopefully."

Knowing Enyd and Zark...yeah, there's no way that I'm tempting fate. Best send these things away now.

Shaking off the errant thought, Alistair smiled at Reika. "So: transporter room two, twenty minutes?"

[ Lt. Reika Sh'laan ] Outskirts of D’Takka | Qo'noS ]  attn: @Griff

Thirty minutes later the two OPS officers and a crate of Klingon pain sticks materialized on Q’onos.  This was the first time that the Andorian had set foot on the planet - ever.  So it was quite a new experience for her.  The place where the transporter chief set them down appeared to be near the outskirts of a small-ish city.  While Reika had seen pictures of the architecture before, it still looked imposing the first time a person laid eyes on it. 

The white-haired woman checked in with her equipment, phaser at one hip, Ushaan-Tor on the other, and a PADD in hand.  She activated it to see where they were and where they needed to go.  Once Sh’laan was relatively certain where they were headed, she bent down to pick up one side of the crate.  Reika waited for Alistair to pick up the other side.  Then double checking her PADD as to the location of the supply depot, she gestured.  “It’s down that way.”

Everywhere Reika looked, heads turned and words were whispered.  While she was certain that humans weren’t exactly regular fixtures on the planet, she guessed that Andorians were less so, or if not, the feeling of aggression toward Andorians seemed greater for some reason.  Had something she was unaware of happened with Andorians down on the planet?  She glanced around at the looks that she was getting, holding herself even more upright in response.   


At one point, a large Klingon who had several centimeters on her stepped directly in their path, bringing their forward progress to a halt. 

“What are you doing here, petaQ,” he spat, as he stepped up to the Vector 3 COO. 

She cooly looked up at him.  “We’re here to trade.”  That's kinda what we're were here doing, right? she thought to herself.  She felt that telling a Klingon that they were here to return something would have even less favorable results than the one she expected.

“Trade!  Ha!  You wouldn’t have the first notion of Klingon trading, insect.”

Sh’laan ignored the insult.  “Well, that may be true,” the Andorian set down her end of the crate, “but I do know a lot about the art of Klingon negotiation.”  She unfastened the two claps that held the crate closed. 

“Someone as scrawny as you can’t know much about Klingon negotiation,” he hissed.

Reika grabbed a pain stick out of the crate, pointing the business end at the Klingon. “Oh, Sure I do.  You can leave us alone, or my friend,” she nodded over her shoulder at Alistair, “And I can practice using these on you.  Two to one.  I think we’ll get the better end of the deal."

[Lieutenant Alistair Leavitt (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Alistair_Leavitt) | Outskirts of D’Takka | Qo'nos ] Attn. @Dree
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Recalling his last trip to the Klingon homeworld, Alistair was feeling considerable trepidation as the familiar grip of the transporter took hold of him. He wasn't worried about safety, so much as the constant ability of the Klingons to spring surprises. Reika seemed capable enough, and the nasty-looking blade that she carried implied that she was more than able to defend herself, but still, Qo'nos was...Qo'nos.

D'Takka, as it turned out, was a far cry from the bustling metropolises of Saq'wa or the First City. It was late afternoon in that part of the planet, threatening rainclouds blanketing the city, which only added to the bleak starkness of the place. Unlike the larger cities, which had been clean and relatively welcoming, D'Takka was grimy and imposing. Many buildings looked as if they could double as small fortresses, and most of the Klingons in the street were armed, either with disruptors or bat'leths. Even the children had d'k'tahgs on their belts, either sticking close to their parents or clinging together in gangs.

Most particularly, unlike the other Klingon cities that Alistair had seen, there was hostility everywhere. The Klingons that he and Reika passed in the street eyed them with either concern or outright menace, an uncomfortable silence surrounding the two Starfleet officers as they walked. The feeling of threat only grew as they entered an industrial district, the air traffic overhead beginning to taper off, until finally, a thug decided to do something.

Happy to let Reika handle matters, Alistair remained quiet, painfully conscious that since he was holding the box with his dominant left hand, it would be tricky to draw his phaser in time. Reika at least solved that problem by setting down the box, only to alarm Alistair as she pulled a pain stick out.

The Klingon thug, far from being intimidated, laughed. "Look at the little blue girl, pretending to be Klingon!" he guffawed. "Is that what they teach you about us, Starfleet? Pretend to be Klingon, and we'll play along like docile targs?"

"Uh, Reika," Alistair muttered, glancing around as several more thugs began to surround them. They were far from elite warriors; three of the four wore rusting armor, one sported a long and unkempt beard, while another was grossly obese. All, however, were armed with disruptor pistols and knives, fingering their weapons in anticipation.

"So you see," the first Klingon drawled menacingly "we don't tolerate Starfleet scum in our district, pretending to be traders. Now, we won't kill you, no no no, that'd be dishonourable...but I think we can give you a message for your masters and those traitors on the Council-"

"Uh, hang on, please," Alistair interrupted, raising a hand and stepping forward. He was clearly uncomfortable, but barelled on all the same. "You all seem like perfectly nice warriors. We really do have some business at the military depot, so...uh, we're allies, right? I mean, we're all friends here, and, uh, my friend is a great fighter, pretty handy with those weapons, she's seen a lot of battles, you really don't want to make her mad..."

The thug scowled, a hand resting on the butt of his pistol. "And what enemies have you defeated in battle, human? All I see is a snivelling dishonourable coward, unworthy to walk our ground!"

Hyperaware of the danger they were in, Alistair frowned in puzzlement. "Uh, good question. I killed a Cardassian in the war when they boarded our ship, and fought some Jem'hadar at Quatal Prime. I've fought the Borg too. Oh, I fought Klingons and one of the Infested on Praxis a few weeks ago, when they were trying to blow up the moon. Is that enough for you? What enemies have you defeated?"

The thug's eyes widened in rage, tensing, only to suddenly freeze in place. "What-?"

"That's enough, you unworthy filth," a old man's deep voice spoke from behind the big thug. The Klingon whirled around, only to cry out in pain, with Alistair and Reika's view blocked and thus unable to see what was happening. The thug stepped away to the side, revealing that behind him was a much older Klingon, his short hair entirely grey, with a stature smaller than anyone else present. His armour gleamed, however, his bare forearms looking remarkably muscled, and the intent in the old man's eyes was murderous.

The subsequent fight was brutal and utterly one-sided. The old warrior was quicker than his age would suggest, and using only his hands, he got to work beating the thug with ruthless precision. The thug's cries of rage turned into cries of agony until, in short order, he was lying on the ground in the fetal position, barely conscious. The old warrior gave the body a few more kicks before stepping away, his upper lip curled in disgust.

"I've called the constables," he barked at the other thugs, who'd watched the beating with astonishment. When the old man reached for his d'k'tahg, it was all the reason they needed to scarper, and he grunted scornfully. "Gutter scum. Anyway," he said as he looked at Alistair and Reika, "Lieutenant Leavitt, Lieutenant sh'Laan, welcome to D'Takka. I am Quartermaster Dok, son of Qannal. Excuse our vermin. They always come crawling out after a war."

The beaten thug on the ground whimpered, and Dok gave him another strong kick. "Stop whining, you pathetic idiot. The constables will be here soon, then we'll deal with you properly. For now, Lieutenants, follow me. The depot is just up the road."

[ Lt. Reika Sh'laan ] Outskirts of D’Takka | Qo'noS ]  attn: @Griff 

“Little blue girl?”  Blue lips mouthed at the insult and brows furrowed.  She activated the painstick and pointed the business end at the mouthy Klingon.  “I don’t pretend to be a Klingon,” Reika nearly growled.  “I’m an Andorian, and we’re a martial enough race to even rival the Klingons."

“Uh Reika?” came Alistair’s words called her attention away from just the one. 

Alistair seemed intent on talking his way outta this.  "You all seem like perfectly nice warriors.” He said as the rag-tag group gathered around.  “We really do have some business at the military depot, so...uh, we're allies, right? I mean, we're all friends here, and, uh, my friend is a great fighter, pretty handy with those weapons, she's seen a lot of battles, you really don't want to make her mad..."

The skinny blue woman crossed her arms over her chest - still one pain stick in hand.  If she hadn’t been asked to look intimidating, she might have unsconsciously pulled it off, but instead by trying to look scary to a Klingon, she failed miserably.  She could have easily looked like a dance instructor using a pain stick almost like an umbrella in hand - like she was getting ready to break into a song to accompany the jig that looked imminent as she picked up a foot.

But fortunately, then Alistair distracted the group drawing their attention.  She set the pain stick back down in the crate and picked up her Ushan-Tor.  Now that she had her blade in her hand and she wasn’t trying she looked a lot more intimidating.  Reika positioned herself between the majority of the group and Alistair who she wasn’t sure if he could defend himself from one let alone a large group of the demons. 

But just as she did another Klingon appeared and before she could take much in the motley group of Klingons were all either battered, bruised, or down and begging for mercy.  Blue lips muttered as she slid her Ushan-Tor, slid back into its sheath.  “Wouldn’t have minded using the thing,” the nearly silent words passed her lips.
 
“I’ve called the constables,” he yelled at the goons.  “Lieutenant Leavitt, Lieutenant Sh’laan, Welcome to D’takka.  I am Quartermaster Dok, son of Qannal. Excuse our vermin. They always come crawling out after a war."

Reika nodded and stepped over the initial Klingon who had insulted her - making sure that his nether regions hurt a  whole lot more after she trod on him than before as she made her way back to pick up the box of painsticks.  Grabbing her end and once Alistair hefted his side, the two started off toward the lone still-standing Klingon

“Thank you for cleaning the trash out of the streets for our arrival,” Reika said.  “We found something that we aren’t sure how it got aboard.  Thank you for aiding us in returning it - hopefully for what we guess was wrongly deposited with you in exchange.”

Quartermaster Dok hrumphed as he kicked one of the hooligans who had started to move again. “Well let’s get back to the depot and see what we can find for our Federation allies. Before this lot really starts moving.”

Holding onto her end of the box one handed, Reika’s eyes continued to sweep the area.  The Klingon that they were with was obviously a force to be reckoned with, but who knew how soon their law enforcement would arrive or it the rag-tag group had others that they would rally.

Fortunately for the three of them they weren’t that far from the depot.  While the outside wasn’t much to speak of, it did look well kept, and when they got inside, it was obvious that Dok knew his craft.  Everything was neat, appeared to be in assigned places, and well organized.

“Where would ya like this crate?”

“Set it down there for now,” the wizened Klingon head nodded to a table that was currently adjusted to mid-height, making it easier for the two to deposit. “I’ll put it away after you leave.”

Once the box was settled into place, Reika turned to face Alistair.  “What is it we’re looking for again?”

[Lieutenant Alistair Leavitt (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Alistair_Leavitt)| Haqqa Haqqa Depot | D’Takka | Qo'nos ] Attn. @Dree
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Somewhat chastened by Dok's rescue, Alistair was quiet as the old Klingon led him and Reika through the streets. There were no children in the industrial part of town; everyone that they passed looked as if they could be another thug, or worse. The shops were run-down, some closed despite it only being late afternoon, and the stench only got worse the further they went. Dok, fortunately, was an able escort. More than one rough Klingon stepped up to stop them, only to see the medals on Dok's uniform and promptly decide that they had urgent business elsewhere.

The depot itself stood in contrast to the dingy surroundings. The enormous building, as cavernous as a cathedral, was evidently a new construction, gleaming among its grimy neighbours. Mercifully, after Dok led them past a security door, the stench was replaced with a nose-twitching sterile burn. The foyer, consisting of a few pallets, lockers and desks, was so neatly organised that it immediately caught Alistair's eye. After setting down the box of pain sticks, Alistair continued to look around with open curiosity, and was so engrossed in mental calculations that he missed Reika's question for a moment.

"Hm?" he said, glancing between her and Dok. "Oh, right, sorry. Quartermaster, did you-"

"-get your message?" Dok interrupted impatiently, drumming his fingers on the desk that he stood next to. "Of course I did, or you'd both be half-dead in a gutter right now. Hrgh...maybe not you," he said to Reika grudgingly. "You have strength. Fire. But your shipmate here? He was stupid enough to try and talk his way past gutter scum. Urgh...humans." Dok rolled his eyes. "I've already searched our system for a kicker, and for Federation technology in general. I need more information. Are the pain sticks in that box military issue?"

At Alistair's hesitant nod, Dok walked over to the box and opened it. "I plan to have a very long conversation with whomever left these on your ship," he growled as he picked up a pain stick and read the serial number. "Blast, it would be from the Fuq'mi. Hmph." Dok looked at Reika and Alistair. "I need to go into a secure area to confirm my suspicion. Wait here."

Without another word (and with agility that belied his age), the old quartermaster promptly strode out through a door, suddenly leaving the two lieutenants quite alone. Alistair glanced at Reika and shrugged before looking around for a few moments.

"So, uh, Reika," he said awkwardly, "do you mind if I ask you a personal question? What is...uh, that?" Alistair gestured at the bladed weapon on her belt. "I've never seen one before, and you're the first Ops officer I've met who carries a blade. Honestly, back there, I thought you might be ready to take them all on with just that."

[ Lt. Reika Sh'laan ] Outskirts of D’Takka | Qo'noS ]  attn: @Griff

Dok was right.  Alistair did like to talk his way out of situations, but then again, so did she if she was feeling discombobulated.  This however wasn’t one of those times for her, but the human’s question did cause the edges of her mouth to curl up infinitesimally. 

“This?” Reika’s eyes and hand dropped to the curved spiked blade at her side.  Somehow it reminded her of an ancient Terran dinosaur she’d heard stories of.   She unclipped it and held it up for him to see better.  "The type of blade is called an Ushaan tor, and it’s the main traditional Andorian blade. This one, however,” Blue fingers caressed the area of the blade just under the spines, “Is called Tria.  After the wife of one of the great Andorian Bish’ee kings.  He was deadly in battle, but she was lethal in her own right.” And the hint of a smile blossomed into a full one.

“I grew up around these and flabbjellah since my Zhavey was in the Andorian military, and she taught me a thing or two.”  Reika took a moment to showcase a couple of simple moves with the instrument.  “It’s my version of a pain stick,” she chuckled and winked.  “Before I was frozen, I never carried it around on the ship and I don’t intend to now, but since we were heading down to Q’onos of all places, I felt like it was worth bringing - just in case.”

“Did you know that I was in Tactical for several years before switching over to OPS?” the Andorian asked.  “The blade may make more sense knowing that about me."

“You’re welcome to see it if you’d like.”  Reika held it out to the OPS officer to take if he wanted to get a closer look at it.  “Have you never carried a blade or a weapon on your person?”

[Lieutenant Alistair Leavitt (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Alistair_Leavitt)| Haqqa Haqqa Depot | D’Takka | Qo'nos ] Attn. @Dree
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Alistair accepted the weapon very gingerly. "I'm not really a fighter," he said mildly as he considered Tria. "I mean, I've carried phasers before, but that's different. You just point it and press a button. Something like this..." Alistair peered at the blade's edge. "I guess that you use this for...uh...slashing, right? It's light, so I bet you're really fast with this. It must be a great weapon for personal defence...no attacker is getting close without getting hurt...an acute arc shape...that must be for sweeping movements..."

Lost in his own chain of thought, Alistair abruptly jerked himself out of it before carefully handing the weapon back to Reika. "It's a fascinating blade. On my homeworld, we had big machetes for breaking through thick brush, but-" Seeing Reika's expression, he quickly clarified, "they're...uh, heavy one-handed swords from Earth. Nobody ever imagined using them as weapons, though. We just didn't have that mindset. Mostly, we just focused on not hurting ourselves by accident."

Glancing back at the closed door, Alistair mused for a second on where Dok might be before shaking off the errant thought. He instead took a few steps to the side, eyeing the stacked Klingon crates with interest before looking back at Reika with a curiosity. "So...I know you have a mind for organisation, but why go from Tactical to Ops? You know, going from blowing stuff up to setting stuff neatly on a shelf or...or redistributing power, or writing WSP routines? Most people I know would call that change hell. I think even my girlfriend thinks me a bit daft for it sometimes. In a nice way, but still."

[ Lt. Reika Sh'laan ] Outskirts of D’Takka | Qo'noS ]  attn: @Griff @Ellen Fitz

Reika tilted her head as she watched Alistair with her Ushan-Tor.  She could almost sense his discomfort - even with holding it.  “You’re right, It is meant for slashing and sweeping.  It’s not like a Klingon weapon where it’s mostly meant for stabbing.  And yes, the Tor is best wielded by someone who has a lot of speed and agility. “  As he handed it back to the Andorian, she took it gently and kissed it before sliding it into its holster at her side.

Reika caught the Human’s look of puzzling, and she realized that Dok had been gone for awhile, her antenna tilted back in the direction of the Klingon in the hopes of better hearing if something was amiss, but for the moment, she couldn’t make out anything particular.

“Well, don’t get me wrong, there are times I miss the action terribly, but at the same time, I didn’t realize how good I could be as an OPS officer and how much I could accomplish until I didn’t have a choice but to take on the position.  We had more than one tactical officer, and we lost our OPS officer on a deep space recon trip, and with a background in both I was requested and required to relinquish my post and take over operations for the remainder of that mission, but by the time we got back to the heart of the Federation, I didn’t necessarily want to go back to tactical.  In some ways I felt like I made a greater difference in operations.  Besides,” Reika quipped with a wink, “It’s harder to put things into order than it is to blow them up, and I was looking for a challenge.”

But Reika turned around wondering where Dok had gotten to.  She took several steps toward the storage area that the Klingon had disappeared into only to halt abruptly when she saw Hirek and someone else was with him.  She took a step back not exactly sure what was going on.

[ Hirek tr’Aimne | Haqqa Haqqa Depot | D’Takka | Qo'nos ] Attn. @Griff  @Dree

It certainly hadn’t taken Pierce and the Intelligence department long to find a use for Hirek outside of his bioengineering skills. With the risks to Hirek’s personal safety and the potential threat to his family back on Romulus should he be discovered alive and well instead of drowned like the report he’d hoped had made it back to his homeworld, deemed acceptable, Pierce had done as Fisher would have done and as King had done before him: used Hirek in an elaborate game of double-crossing. Working with the Klingon Intelligence Agency and capitalizing on their presence in orbit, Hirek had been given a crate of supplies from the ship and instructed to sell them on the nomadic black market the KIA had been working to take down for months. Using a mixture of Romulan charisma and years of experience at quickly adapting to new scenarios, and ever and always with an aggressive charm that confounded more than it attracted, Hirek had made contact with the black market ring and made the sale to the second in command.

With the supplies marked for tracking, Hirek wasn’t worried about their later retrieval. And that was precisely what would have happened if the third in command of the black market ring didn’t have a personal hatred for all Romulans and demanded to see the additional crate of supplies Hirek had promised to sell if they offered a high enough price. The bastard had called his bluff and trailed behind him as Hirek led him into the official Klingon depot. He’d insisted the best place to hide ill-gotten goods was in the more official and secure place possible, and while the second in command had believed Hirek, this mouth-breaking lard lurking just over his shoulder had not.

“Why don’t we just kill him?” Mouth-breather hovered over the unconscious Klingon quartermaster, his hand already reaching for the dagger sheathed at his hip.

“As he didn’t see us before I knocked him unconscious, I fail to see the benefit in killing him. At most, they’ll put out a reward for depot thieves once he comes to and reports the incident. Kill him, and you’ll have more wrath called down on us.” Hirek nonchalantly shrugged his shoulder before moving toward the door leading into the main area. “The crate is in the D23-A sector.”

Knowing that the lard was more likely to follow him than remain next to the quartermaster, Hirek didn’t dawdle at the door, giving him further opportunity to make good on the threat. And while he was correct in that the imbecile followed him, even Hirek was unprepared to find Reika’s familiar form alongside the human Alistair, a man Hirek knew to be Enyd’s significant other. Hirek had barely the chance to dart his gaze between Reika and the closest cover she could take before mouth-breather unholstered his scatter disruptor and began firing at both Starfleet personnel. Hirek also took cover behind a pile of crates, not trusting the bastard to keep from taking him out in the ensuing chaos.

[Lieutenant Alistair Leavitt (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Alistair_Leavitt)| Haqqa Haqqa Depot | D’Takka | Qo'nos ] Attn. @Dree @Ellen Fitz
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Somewhat bemused by Reika's wink, Alistair raised a finger in question. "Doesn't that imply that you found blowing stuff up...easy?" he asked in bafflement. "Actually, never mind. I can believe it. You remind me a bit of Lieutenant Zark, actually. She's a medic, but she really kicked my ass in hand-to-hand training the other day. I've always been terrible at that sort of thing, though. If those thugs had attacked us earlier..." he shrugged helplessly, the unspoken message plain.

A natural pause in the conversation followed, growing increasingly awkward as the two lieutenants waited. "I'm just going to call him on the comm," Alistair said finally, moving to the desk. "Between us, maybe we can help-"

The double door leading into the depot burst open, and Alistair froze, startled by the sight of the Romulan standing in the doorway. A moment later, the tension broke as an unkempt Klingon charged in, firing his disruptor wildly. On pure instinct, Alistair dived behind the desk and fumbled for his phaser, emerald bolts zinging everywhere.

Once his phaser was out, Alistair looked around and found Reika, a few meters away in different cover. It was a mark of how many battles he'd been through lately that Alistair didn't even hesitate to kneel down behind his slim cover and return fire, although true to form, his orange beams were only somewhat more accurate than the Klingon's wild shooting.

[ Lt. Reika Sh'laan ] Outskirts of D’Takka | Qo'noS ] attn: @Griff @Ellen Fitz

When Alistair asked her if she found blowing stuff up easy, a laugh that escaped her lips caught the Andorian quite off guard.  She hadn’t at all expected it, but it surprised her how good it felt to let out an honest-to-goodness belly laugh.  “Haven’t you ever blown anything up before, Alistair?  Blowing stuff up is not just fun, but most often very easy.  It’s putting things back together after that’s much harder.”

Then there was that name again - Zark.  Not only had she met the inebriated medic, but she also had heard of her from several people already.  “Zark must really be something.  She seems to be on everyone’s lips. But ya know if you want some fighting pointers, I’m happy to teach you so maybe you can take her next time.”  She quirked an eyebrow.  “Whatcha think?  You up for that?”

But as she asked her question, Hirek made his way through the two double doors, but seeing a Klingon with a disruptor at his side, Reika made a judgment call to protect Hirek as well as Alistair and herself.  If the lumbering Klingon didn't know that Hirek was with Starfleet, he may ignore him potentially allowing the Romulan to get the upper hand on the interloper. “Romulan traitor!” she screamed and reached for her phaser, but the Klingon had his disruptor out quickly and nearly took her shoulder off. Scrambling for cover, she forced herself to pause and take a deep calming breath. 

Barely poking her head out from her hidey hole, she observed the big lug of a Klingon and his exact spot.   Seeing the oaf move his disruptor back in her direction, she snaked her body the other direction in the cramped spot that she perched.  She looked the other direction and ascertained where Leavitt was hiding.  She could only guess at where Hirek disappeared to from his earlier position. 

When she could tell that the one of the other two had the Klingon’s attention, she rolled out of her spot and squeezed the trigger of her phaser, hitting the Klingon in the arm, but that didn’t seem to stop him.

[ Hirek tr’Aimne | Haqqa Haqqa Depot | D’Takka | Qo'nos ] Attn. @Griff @Dree

With Starfleet officers firing at the Klingon and the Klingon firing in return, Hirek saw his opportunity. Smacking his hand against the crate he’d taken cover behind, he called to the Klingon, “I have no weapon! Give me your other disrupter! One of us can draw their fire while the other flanks them.”

The mouth-breathing lard only glared at Hirek, sending off a few more beams of fire before pausing long enough to answer. “How do I know you won’t just shoot me and make off with the goods yourself?”

“I’m a Romulan,” Hirek drew back, looking insulted, “I’m not an idiot.” Hoping that Reika and Alistair had their phasers on stun, Hirek pushed into a crouch, “If you aren’t willing to trust me with a weapon, you can handle these two on your own.” He turned, glancing around the opposite edge of the crate, tensing his muscles to make a run for the side door.

Something metallic sounded behind him, then a heavy bump against his foot. Looking down, Hirek spied the spare disruptor and looked past it to watch the snarling Klingon shoot down a few overhanging gangways directly above Alistair’s position.

“That should’ve crushed the male,” the Klingon pulled his lips back in a snarling smile, “you draw their fire, and I’ll flank them.”

Hirek wrapped his fingers around the disruptor, immediately taking a few wild shots directly over the crates where Reika had disappeared, “Got it! Go!”

The Klingon mimicked Hirek’s earlier crouching position, making ready to leap across the open space to a row of supplies. Hirek took a few more wild shots over the crates opposite his position, allowing the Klingon to scuttle to safety. He waited a moment, then stood, moving out from behind the crates. Arm extended, Hirek maintained a heavy barrage of fire as he advanced on Alistair and Reika’s positions. But then, feigning a jam, Hirek let loose a volley of Romulan curses before looking up just as a beam struck him in the chest, sending his body flying backward and sprawling unconscious on the floor.

[Lieutenant Alistair Leavitt (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Alistair_Leavitt)| Haqqa Haqqa Depot | D’Takka | Qo'nos ] Attn. @Dree @Ellen Fitz
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Traitor?

Even amidst the shooting, Alistair paused for a moment to look over in Reika's direction in bafflement. It was such an odd word to use. It was extremely unlikely that she knew the Romulan; how could he have 'betrayed' her? Was it a general sentiment towards all Romulans? Sure, they were allies during the war, but still, it seemed odd to shout out 'traitor'. Maybe Reika called it out as...well, maybe....a tactic of some kind?

All those thoughts passed by in a second before a fresh barrage of disruptor fire hit the desk, sparks and debris flying everywhere from each impact. On reflex Alistair tried to return fire, only to jerk back in alarm as a fizzing green bolt nearly blew his hand off. Instead he tapped his combadge, only to feel a telltale tactile buzz on his breast.

"Comms are jammed!" he called out to Reika, not even sure that she could hear him amidst the disruptor barrage. After a few more moments, Alistair finally summoned the courage to lean out and shoot back, only to see the Klingon looking right back at him, disruptor raised.

Raised high.

"Oh no," Alistair whispered as he looked up at the gangways crisscrossing above him. As the green bolts spat out, he scurried underneath the desk and huddled there, hands over his head, as his world quite literally came crashing down around him. After it stopped, he sat there frozen, barely believing that the desk had held up under the impact.

I love Klingon engineers.

Hearing yet more shooting and abruptly remembering that Reika was still in trouble, Alistair hurriedly began to shove his way through the debris, grunting as he wiggled his way underneath the tangled metal, wincing as a jagged edge cut into his back. Undeterred, he kept crawling on his stomach, debris on top of him, until he could see past the desk.

Seeing the Romulan standing in the open, cursing at his weapon, Alistair blinked, shrugged, then fired, hitting the man square in the chest with a sizzling phaser beam.

[ Lt. Reika Sh'laan ] Outskirts of D’Takka | Qo'noS ] attn: @Griff iff @Ellen Fitz

Craziness and green shafts like short streaks of lightening erupted around her head, and yet the Andorian remained calm.  She took the entire situation in as best as she could.  Hirek continued playing the part of the comrade to the Klingon who was firing a barrage of shots over their heads despite the hit that he had already received.  Alistair nearly had his head taken off by a wild shot. 

Reika tapped her combadge and feeling it vibrate instead of hearing it chirp, she cursed under her breath just as she heard Alistair call out, “Comms and jammed,” but at least she knew he didn’t get hit by that last close energy discharge. 

“Keep that bald head of yours down.  It doesn’t need shaved any further,” she called out, but just as she did, the catwalk above Leavitt came crashing down on top of the desk under which he had hid himself.

“Leavitt, are you okay?” she called out taking another shot at the Klingon at the same time.  While she felt increasingly angered by this oaf’s exertions to take them out.  Ducking just in time a green flash zipped past her head and hit the crate that had been directly behind where her head had been previously. “Okay,” she said taking a breath. “That was too close.”  She needed to get out of this location and find a way to get into a better position. 

And why didn’t Hirek just turn and fire on the lumbering Klingon?  Reika had seen him with a disruptor when she had last raised her head.  Not trusting to the Romulan, she scrambled through a hole in the shelving unit behind her and made her way into another hiding place - one from which she would have a better vantage point.

But as she did, Alistair ducked out from a different position he had been able to procure.  And this time he came up and hit Hirek square in the chest.  Not believing that he couldn’t know that the Romulan was a member of their crew, she hoped that the phaser was just on stun.

But Alistair’s shots drew the Klingon’s attention allowing Reika, from her new vantage point to shoot at the Klingon, and this time, her aim was true.  But one hit only brought him to his knees.  She shot again and once more for good measure. 

Before coming out from her hiding place, she called out.  “You okay over there, Alistair?”  Then, while keeping an eye on the Klingon, she moved from her covered position and walked over to the beast and kicked his disruptor away from his hand.  Reika reached down and while still training her phaser on the unconscious man, she felt for a pulse - which she found. 

Stepping back and turning to face her counterpart, she said, "If the comms are jammed, we might have further visitors.  It might be a good idea not to linger overly long.”

[Lieutenant Alistair Leavitt (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Alistair_Leavitt)| Haqqa Haqqa Depot | D’Takka | Qo'nos ] Attn. @Dree @Ellen Fitz
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"Yeah, I'm fine!" Alistair called back as, grunting with exertion, he pried himself out of the debris. When he got to his feet, he looked a stark contrast to the tidy man who'd entered the depot just half an hour. His uniform was filthy and torn, his bald scalp smudged black with some substance, and when Alistair straightened, he winced. After gingerly reaching around his back and finding the scratch, he shrugged and walked over to Reika, phaser still in hand.

"Yeah, you're probably..." he trailed off before his eyes widened. "Dok." In a rush, he hurried over to the door that the two assailants had emerged from. The heavy door opened smoothly at a button push, revealing a perfectly ordinary corridor, lit by the usual nauseating burnt-orange lighting. On the floor partway down the corridor was a Klingon body lying face-down, and Alistair ran up to it. Kneeling next to the body, he heaved it onto its side, revealing that it was indeed the quartermaster. His nose was clearly broken, dark blood streaming down onto his armour, but his chest rose and fell.

"He's alive!" he called back to Reika. "Looks like they just knocked him out." Getting to his feet, Alistair looked down the corridor with apprehension before glancing back to Reika with atypical determination. "He helped us. We can't leave him. Besides, this could be bad if the Romulans are breaking into military depots on the Klingon homeworld. We need to contact the Theurgy or the Klingon military somehow."

After a moment's pause, he frowned as he glanced back down the corridor, holding his phaser loose at his side. "Uh...any ideas? Do you reckon this place has redundant hardline comms we can get to?"

[ Lt. Reika Sh'laan ] Haqqa Haqqa Depot | D’Takka | Qo'nos ] Attn: @Griff  @Ellen Fitz @Dumedion

Reika heaved a sigh of relief when she heard Alistair’s voice.  But as soon as Leavitt was free he called out Dok’s name and rushed through the double doors into the other section of the depot.  Reika kept her phaser trained on the Klingon who had been intent on killing them all. 

“He’s alive,” Alistair said.

Another sigh of relief.  Reika looked around to see if she could find a Klingon Comms device.  It was possible that they were only jamming Federation signals.  After some looking around, she found a Klingon comm’s device.  She took her communicator off and opened both the communicator and the Klingon comms terminal up.  “I’m going to try to interface my communicator with the comms terminal.  If I can do that,” she said as her fingers continued moving as she pulled worked to integrate her combadge with Klingon technology.  It wasn’t easy.  Three minutes later, she called out.  “I think I got it. Gimme a second to grab Hirek, as I doubt that he has a communicator on."  She took one more look at the unconscious Klingon to make sure that he was still unconscious. 

She walked over and slipping her hands under Hirek’s armpits, she dragged the sturdy Romulan back to where her communicator was hooked up to the terminal.  She was thankful that she was an Andorian at the moment.  Having denser muscles made it easier to move the chunk…or was the human word hunk….she couldn’t remember.

“You’ve got Dok?” Reika confirmed.  “Okay.  I’m going to call back to the Theurgy and ask them to transport four of us directly to sickbay. But once I initiate the comms link, I need you to try to activate your badge, so that they can lock onto yours through mine.”

Then tapping her combadge, she initiated the call.  “This is Lieutenant Sh’laan.  You need to lock onto this combadge and Lieutenant Leavitt’s.  There are four of us to beam directly to sickbay.  Take the Klingon nearest to Leavitt, but leave the other.”

[LT Arven Leux | PCU | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy] @Griff @Dree @Ellen Fitz
[Show/Hide]Arven stood inside the opaque privacy screen around biobed 3, hovering over a patient. The man laid face down, the medical gown opened to reveal colorfully bruised and bleeding buttocks to the air. The tissue regenerator in Leux’ hand purred in a monotonous tone as he slowly passed it over the man's colorful contusions while Arven frowned, trying to believe the man's story of ‘taking right tumble down a flight of stairs, skiddin’ on me arse,’ as the patient had said in a rather embarrassed English accent – Liverpool, perhaps – Arven guessed. The fact that the injuries were localized in nearly the exact same positions and patterns on both cheeks struck him as odd, as well as the lack of any other physical damage to the man’s body. Regardless, he really tried not to comment, for about the first thirty seconds or so, which was surprising, really.

“This is amazing, you know,” Leux deadpanned in his usual sarcastic tone while he worked. “You found the only stairs that assault the arse, to use your anatomically correct terminology. I’m curious, do these stairs have a name? Do they understand the term...aftercare? I believe that’s what it's called – could be wrong. I'll look into that.”

The patient shifted as he cleared his throat.

“Uh oh,” Arven muttered, “better quit wiggling or I’ll get the straps out,” he warned mockingly, as the subdermal swelling and color of the man’s cheeks slowly returned to normal.

Leux’ badge chirped suddenly, which he tapped with another frown. “Medical, send it.”

[Incoming emergency transport, party of four. Routine,] a feminine voice reported.

“Acknowledged. Send them to the ward,” Arven tapped his badge again with a sigh. “Unfortunate timing, really. Well, here, take over for a bit while I sort this out,” he set the regenerator just above the man’s buttocks, “and use a damn safe-word next time,” the Trill shook his head as he stepped out of the privacy screen.
 
“Ms. Duncan,” he called to one of the duty nurses as he stepped into the corridor with a smile. “Spanky on bed three could use your assistance.” The nurse managed a brittle smile, brows bouncing as she passed with a nod.
 
[Recovery Ward, a moment later]

Arven entered, rotating the tension from his neck, before nodding to another nurse – a rather young looking man whose name he couldn’t place at the moment. “Who are you again,” Leux asked him with a confused expression.

“Florez,” the youth replied evenly. “Filling in for Adams? We met this morning – and like, ten minutes ago... I brought you coffee?”

“Ah, right,” Leux nodded with a smile. He didn’t remember any of that. “Well Flo, let’s see what we got,” Arven tilted his head, ignoring the nurse’s irritated expression as he tapped his badge. “Medical – energize.”

Four streams of light and sound materialized in the open area between rows of recovery beds; revealing a four individuals – two of which, (a Klingon bleeding from his nose, and a Romulan) instantly toppled like meat-sacks. Arven caught the Klingon with a grunt just as he heard a weighty thud. As he positioned the unconscious Klingon to transfer him onto a bed, his eyes glanced over at Florez, who was struggling to lift the Romulan. “Nice catch, Flo,” Arven grunted with a shake of his head, as he laid the Klingon down then moved to assist the nurse with the Romulan, who looked like he fell face-first, judging from the small line of blood oozing from his nose.

“He slipped,” Florez grunted, as the pair moved his limp form to an adjacent bed.

Arven glanced at the other two beam-ins, recognizing the Andorian (even if he couldn’t remember her name, either), but not the human. “Welcome to sickbay, pull up a chair,” the Trill flashed them a smile as they deposited the Romulan onto a bed, "be right with you."

A low moan bubbled from the Romulan's blood smeared lips, signaling his imminent return to consciousness - so Leux stayed put. “Take that one,” Arven waved Florez to the Klingon as he pulled out a tricorder and began scanning away. “Either of you two can fill me in on what happened any time now,” Leux spoke aloud at the pair of officers, his attention focused on the device in his hand.

[Lieutenant Alistair Leavitt (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Alistair_Leavitt)| Haqqa Haqqa Depot | D’Takka | Qo'nos ] Attn. @Dree @Ellen Fitz
[Show/Hide]
It only took a few minutes for Reika to work through the problem, but those few minutes were thick with tension. Standing in the hallway above Dok's unconscious form, Alistair felt painfully exposed, even knowing that he actually had great cover right next to him in the form of a hectagonal structural frame. It occurred to him that it might even be a design feature, knowing Klingons; it made sense that they'd design their hallways with battle in mind.

His heart hammering amidst the tense silence, his hand gripping his phaser tight, Alistair started when Reika called out to him. After answering, intensely grateful for how fast she'd worked, he crouched down and placed a hand on Dok's back...then, at Reika's signal, tapped his combadge.

Moments later, the four of them fizzled out of existence.

---

[Lieutenant Alistair Leavitt (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Alistair_Leavitt)| PCU | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy ]

After he materialised in familiar surroundings, Alistair finally relaxed, exhaling. Indeed, he was so relieved that he completely missed that the transporter had stood Dok up, but fortunately, the doctor was on the ball. Instead, after wincing apologetically at the doctor, he stepped away, holstered his phaser and tapped his combadge.

"Leavitt to Bridge. We were just attacked at the Haqqa Haqqa depot in...uh...right, D'Takka. The quartermaster was injured, so we brought him and one of the attackers here." Alistair frowned as something clicked; why had Reika gone to the trouble of taking the Romulan, and more, how had she recognised him? Shaking the thought off, he continued, "I recommend that you inform the Klingon military of the security breach immediately."

After that was settled, Alistair moved over to stand by Reika. With the adrenaline fading, the stinging from his back doubled, but he forced himself to ignore it, gritting his teeth. Instead, looking at the Romulan as the medical staff treated him, he asked quietly, "What did you say his name was? Haren...Har..."

Realisation hit him like a sledgehammer. "Hirek?" he blubbered in shock. "That Hirek!?"

[ Hirek tr’Aimne | Haqqa Haqqa Depot | D’Takka | Qo'nos ] Attn. @Griff  @Dree  @Dumedion

Hirek groaned as consciousness returned. His body had the expected throbbing ache resulting from a heavy stun. The back of his head pounded where he’d smacked it against the floor in his collapse – as he presumed he’d been sent backward onto his back by the beam when it hit – but the sharp pain on his face was a surprise. A moment passed between his initial moaning signal of regaining consciousness and deciding to open his eyes. A moment during which he recognized the background din of Theurgy and the voices chiming around him were speaking in Federation Standard, without a Klingon accent. Opening his eyes, Hirek vision was hazy at first but eventually cleared enough to study the form of the Trill doctor he’d had little interaction with up to this point.

“Con-“ Hirek winced, clearing his throat, then began again. “Contact Lieutenant Commander Pierce.” Thanks in part to the rapid swelling of his nose, Hirek’s voice had a distinctive nasal quality. His gaze wandered away from the Trill, skirting over Alistair and Reika, and landing on the unconscious Klingon on the biobed beside him. “Let her know the bait has been deployed and the mark contacted. She should be able to take it from here.”

He took a deep breath to ascertain if any other areas of his body were hurting that technically shouldn’t. He first looked to Alistair, curious if he’d been the one to shoot him and perhaps do something to his face while unconscious. If Madsen had told him anything about how they’d first met, it was entirely likely he felt sympathy frustration for him out of loyalty to his lover. Hirek then adjusted his gaze to study Reika, satisfied to see she wasn’t hurt in any obvious way, though she did appear a bit rattled.

“I was going to add ‘no casualties’ to the report since I managed to keep the Klingon mark from killing the quartermaster, but,” he reached up to cradle his swollen nose, “I think my nose must be listed now. What did you do?” His playfully accusatory stare darted to everyone in the room, save the still unconscious quartermaster.

[Lieutenat Reika Sh'Laan] Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy] @Dumedion @Ellen Fitz @Griff

From one flutter of activity to another.  Once they had dematerialized from the planet and rematerialized in the very familiar confines of sickbay, Reika’s stomach pitched.  Four times in sickbay in less than a week - and three times in one day was way too much for anyone.  It’s not like she had gotten good news that morning, and in the afternoon, she had brought in an overly intoxicated barmaid and now, she was back once again with another motley crew.

One of which was Hirek.  Hirek.  It was just two evenings ago that the pair spent the night together.  He had made it immensely clear that an aloof partner was a safe partner and Reika had encouraged him not to give up on love.  They had an understanding…to a point, and the Andorian had no idea how he would take to her already having fallen head over heels with someone. 

Between her thought straying to Hirek and trying to get her bearings in regards to where everyone was and everyone’s condition, she caught the question from the doctor - one she had not yet seen. “We were in a firefight.  My best guess is that the Klingon was hit by a stun weapon because Leavitt said he was breathing.  Hirek, the Romulan,” Reika nodded his direction, “was hit by a phaser blast from the other Lieutenant over there.”  She gestured to Alistair. “And that same Lieutenant was hit by falling debris in a Klingon depot as part of a catwalk collapsed.”

Once her report was given, she leaned against a biobed and briefly closed her eyes wanting to ground herself once again after their harrowing adventure on the planet and now the bustle of activity when they arrived shipside.  “Oh,” she said turning around to look at the doctor and his accompanying nurse, “and I’m shaken, but not stirred.”  Hoping her quip would fall on favorable ears.

[LT Arven Leux | Recovery Ward | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy] Attn: @Griff @Dree @Ellen Fitz 
[Show/Hide]After administering a standard pain suppressant (he had to look up the Romulan equivalent and proper dose), Arven pulled the patient’s hand away from his bloody nose and slid the biobed’s scanner into place as the other two beam-in’s nearly spoke over each other. He caught a few pertinent details - the injuries, mostly, and discarded the rest as irrelevant for the immediate future. His fingers tapped out a command, and the Romulan’s outer layer of clothes covering his torso was instantly suctioned off into the folds between the bed, recycled into atoms. Leux’ brows jumped at the patient’s question, while he scanned his chest cavity for internal injuries.

“Technically, you did it – well, gravity helped. Excuse me,” Arven’s attention snapped to Florez and the other patient; the unconscious Klingon’s legs were twitching in time with the nurses grunts of effort. The Trill slid over, head cocked at the young man who seemed to be trying to manipulate the bony plates of the Klingon’s nose ridge back into place. “Uh, what are you doing, stop that – you can’t snap them back into place like that. You have to lift, then push. Your just grinding bone, here, watch.” After batting the nurse’s hands away with a shooing motion, Arven froze, his hands hovering over the Klingon’s face as his violet eyes narrowed. “Its recessed. Oh, good,” he sighed, then moved to the supply cabinet for the proper tools: twin prongs, roughly as long as his forearm, which he pinched together with a smile as he returned.

“Pain meds kick in yet,” he asked the Romulan as he passed, his eyes running over the scanner. No serious head trauma, chest wound superficial – light internal bruising. Nothing pressing.

“Right,” Arven deadpanned at Florez, but a sudden comment from the Andorian had caught the nurse’s full attention. The Trill cocked a dark brow her way, then glanced back at the nurse. “Dude, really? Zark will pretzel the shit out of you, c’mon,” he whispered.

“I'd die happy - and uh, that’s not Zark,” Florez whispered back with a frown.

Leux blinked at him, then looked back at the Andorian, then back at Florez and shook his head. “You sure? Whatever, look – can we focus, Flo, this is kind of important,” he gestured to the Klingon with the prongs. “I’m gonna shove these up into his nasal cavity, lift the plate back, then you need ready to pinch that sucker shut otherwise we’re going get hosed. This is a fresh uniform too, so don’t screw this up. Ready?” Arven shoved the utensil up the Klingon’s nose before the nurse even replied, pushing it in deep until he felt an obstruction, then popped it down under that with a grunt, then pushed up and over with an audible, wet crunch. “Perfect,” the Trill grinned, then yanked the bloodied metal device out just as Florez’ fingers pinched the Klingon’s nostrils shut. “There, another medical miracle. Dermal regenerator for the internals, but don’t heal the scar – not until he wakes up and tells us he doesn’t want it. Klingons are...finicky that way,” he shrugged, then turned to face the Romulan and the others.

“Right, Miss, uh...shaken, was it,” he pointed at the Andorian, then gestured to her friend that looked ready to keel over. “Could you assist your associate to a bed before he falls over, please and thank you,” Arven flashed a smile as he approached the side of the Romulan’s bed, tossing the bloodied prongs onto a towel-covered table for disposal later. “Hows it hanging? Lets take a look,” he cocked his head, looking under the medical scanner. A minuscule blue light was tending his chest wound, slowly re-knitting the flesh around the Romulan’s nipple.

“Oof, almost lost something – that would have sucked,” the Trill frowned at him, then picked up a regenerator to tend to his broken nose. As the device hummed to life in his hand, Arven shot a dose of anti-inflammatories into the patient’s bicep, then arched a brow at Ms. Shaken and her friend. “So, they shot you huh? Seems rather uncalled for – I’m sure you didn’t do anything to deserve such treatment,” he commented dryly. “Oh, that might sting a bit,” he warned the patient belatedly with a nod to the hypo. "Either of you two know who this Pierce is that our friend here mentioned," he asked the others, while keeping his eyes on his work.

About that time the Klingon grunted, then roared back to consciousness.

[Lieutenant Alistair Leavitt (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Alistair_Leavitt)| PCU | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy ]
 Attn. @Dree @Ellen Fitz @Dumedion
[Show/Hide]
Amidst the flurry of activity and conversation around him, Alistair was thoroughly lost, still coping with a rather stunning realisation: he had just shot a crewmate. Sure, there were mitigating circumstances, but still, he shot a crewmate. It was sheer dumb luck that he hadn't thought to increase the phaser setting as he was trained to, given the Klingon's resilience to stuns. He had just come within a hairsbreadth of murdering an ally.

The thought was nauseating, not helped when Reika explained what had happened with all the tact of a rhino. He winced as he looked at Hirek, raising a hand in greeting. "Uh...that was me, sorry, I shot you," he said awkwardly. The apology was drowned out by the gruff doctor, so rather meekly, Alistair followed orders and walked to a biobed on the other side of the bay, next to the unconscious Dok. With the cut along his back stinging more and more, he sat down and started to remove his jacket and shirt, grimacing all the while.

"Uh, Reika," he said to his counterpart as he shrugged out of his gold shirt, "you can get out of here if you want, there's no reason to stay. One of us needs to report this mess to...uh...whoever we need to report this too. Lieutenant Pierce to start with, I guess, and Commander Akoni, then maybe Commander Stark later on if she calls us." Finally barechested, blood trickling down his back, he smiled at Reika. "Thanks for coming with me. I would've been in real trouble if you hadn't been there."

A hoarse voice interrupted them. "Urgh...what....where..." Alistair glanced over his shoulder to see Dok groggily awakening, looking blearily around at his surroundings. Still clad in armour, Dok looked very much out of place on the soft biobed, especially amidst the bright colours of a Starfleet sickbay. The quartermaster adjusted quickly, however, eyes focusing on the nurse tending to him.

"Take it easy, you've been injured," Nurse Florez said soothingly. "You're aboard the starship Theurgy, and we've already contacted-"

Dok grunted, waving off Florez's explanation as he propped himself up on his elbows, then looked around properly. His eyes fell first upon Reika, then Alistair, then upon Hirek, and his eyes widened. "Treachery..."

In a whirl of movement, Dok shoved the nurse away and rushed to his feet, drawing a nasty-looking knife at the same time. "Starfleet thinks they can breach my depot without consequence!?" he roared. "We sheltered you, protected you from your enemies, and you repay us with thievery? The Empire will see you all flayed for this!"

Alistair was the first to answer, hopping to his feet and approaching Dok cautiously, hands up. "Quartermaster, I swear to you, we didn't-"

Dok sprang forward, stabbing with his knife, but Alistair stepped inside the attack, slapping it away before grabbing the old Klingon's wrist, the two men struggling mightily over the weapon. Acting on desperate instinct, Alistair hurled a punch with his free hand into Dok's face, then again, and again, striking as hard as he could. Dok looked dazed, but a moment later he growled, eyes full of lethal intent, and Alistair belatedly realised what was about to happen.

"Oh shit," he whispered.

Dok rammed his forehead into Alistair's face, sending the human back a few steps, before slashing him across his bare chest, crimson blood flying through the air. With one opponent vanquished (or, more accurately, collapsing against a biobed in pain), Dok turned his attention to the others, assessing threats.

[ Hirek tr’Aimne | Haqqa Haqqa Depot | D’Takka | Qo'nos ] Attn. @Griff  @Dree  @Dumedion

Reika’s no-nonsense tone was almost amusing, considering the circumstances. Hirek listened with just as neutral facial expression as she explained their encounter in the briefest of details to the doctor. He was glad she could jest still. It showed resilience and let Hirek know she was far less rattled and injured than himself or his shooter. As the doctor interjected with his own equally brief explanation for his Hirek’s nose hurt before moving to assist the nurse with the unconscious Klingon, Hirek turned his gaze toward the bald human male.

To his credit, Alistair looked akin to ill as he confessed to shooting Hirek. While a portion of Hirek found amusement in the man’s discomfort, the more significant portion of his mind was already determining what steps needed to be taken to safeguard his cover planetside among the black market dealers in case Pierce wanted a repeat performance later down the road. The doctor’s question about pain meds interrupted Hirek’s thought process, and he nodded in response. While he still felt a few aches here and there and could tell there was continued throbbing around the wound on his chest and his swollen nose, for the most part, the pain was receding.

The sudden suction of his clothing away from his body earned an eyebrow raise from the Romulan. Still, Hirek didn’t comment on it as the dermal regenerator worked on the stun-induced abrasion millimeters from his nipple. From his bio-bed, Alistair muttered an apology. Then, the doctor chirped a few dry humor quips and a belated warning from the hypospray as he continued to work on Hirek. Fully accustomed to the sting of a hypospray and the type of bedside manner this doctor seemed to be exhibiting, Hirek chuckled.

“No, I gave them no choice in the matter. Had to keep my cover, so I shot wildly at their position, then purposefully put myself in the line of fire. It was actually a good thing that Alistair landed the shot. I doubt the Klingon mark had his disruptor set on stun.” Hirek nodded in Alistair’s direction, figuring he could tell Alistair to slowly break the story to Madsen, prolonging her enjoyment of his fate in the process. “Since the Klingon mark witnessed my getting shot, once we finish up here, it’ll likely be a good idea to transport me back to the same coordinates to assist the mark in ‘escaping’ to ensure the integrity of the story Intelligence concocted.”

Before Hirek could explain Pierce’s part in this drama, the Klingon quartermaster regained consciousness with the typical grace of a Klingon. Surly, accusing, and violent in quick succession and then cycling back again as he armed himself and attacked. Alistair immediately got himself into another bind and earned a few more cuts for his heroic efforts to explain – obviously not acquainted enough with the Klingon wake-up protocol to know not to touch an armed, armored, and confused Klingon. With this act, it was becoming increasingly apparent to Hirek that like attracted like in some regard since Alistair was Madsen’s paramour, and the diplomat had a particular flair for the dramatic as well.

As amusing as it was to watch the crimson chaos unfold practically at his feet, Hirek figured life would be decidedly more complicated if he allowed the Klingon full access to Reika or this doctor with the golden tongue and oh-so-soft touch without exhibiting some effort to help. If he’d heard the name correctly, the nurse, Florez, was doing his best to quietly get a hypospray ready behind the Klingon, capitalizing on the man’s distraction. A master of distraction, Hirek calmly raised his arm and drew the irate Klingon’s attention to himself.

“Don’t be so dramatic; it’s not good for a man your age. The black market seller nearly killed you after I knocked you out, and these two knew nothing about that. Your government will thank us for ending a black market ring that’s been robbing your people and theirs of needed supplies.”

The Klingon growled, gripping his knife harder, “Your tongue is so smooth with your lies. Best I cut it out!”

Stabbing forward, Hirek tucked his knees toward his chest and rolled to the side. The hoped-for fall to the floor was unpleasant and certainly not graceful, but at least he had a biobed between himself and the Klingon. He could only hope the doctor had something useful close at hand since he was the next closest target.

[Lieutenat Reika Sh'Laan] Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy] @Dumedion  @Ellen Fitz  @Griff

Upon hearing Alistair’s suggestions, Reika turned to face the human.  Her slight grimace softened into a slight smile.  “I’m just glad we all made it out with our lives,” she said with a nod.  Massaging her sore shoulder, the Andorian turned to go to find whomever this Pierce or was though the other two he had mentioned - Akoni and Stark she was familiar with.  If she couldn’t find Pierce, she would look one of the others up and give them an accounting of what happened. 

But everything happened so fast.  Doq woke up, confused at first, but only seconds later, as his eyes lighted on the three that had been with him on the planet, his entire demeanor transformed from confused to bedeviled.  To say that he was incensed would have been a gross understatement.  His rage wasn’t to be continued, and his stab at Alistair happened before Reika could make her move to disarm the irate Klingon. Blood spatters splayed around the ward in sickbay as the Human was cut across his chest.  But the Andorian kept her eyes on the Klingon.  She would do much more good attempting to take him down than she would tending to the crimson gash on her fellow OPS officer’s chest.

Reika’s immediate instinct was to protect the doctor and nurse, and while the doctor was behind her, the nurse was behind the Klingon.  It was imperative that the large oaf’s attention be kept away from the nurse.  Reika turned to move in on the aggressor, but Hirek was currently between her and the indignant Klingon. She had no doubt Hirek could take care of himself. His Romulan nature came out in full force when the eldest of the bunch tried to reason with the unreasonable.  And for his pains, the Klingon simply bellowed, “Your tongue is so smooth with your lies.  Best I cut it out.”

But this Hirek was easily able to avoid with the agility that some men half his age wouldn’t have been able to procure.  This, however, left Reika standing between the blustering quartermaster and the doctor. 

“Since you’re intent on fighting someone, come at me,” Reika stated flatly falling into a fighting stance already knowing exactly how she was going to disarm him, though that would leave the doctor or the nurse to his the man with a hypospray, but once disarmed he wouldn’t be able to do near the damage that he currently could with his d’k tahg. 

While he was a warrior, finesse wasn’t anywhere within Doq’s wheelhouse.  He did one of two things that Klingons always do with a short-bladed knife, and Reika was ready for either.  But as she saw him come at her with a straight stab, she didn’t even hesitate.  With the precision of an Andorian with slightly enhanced senses thanks to her antenna, she flattened her hand in a ‘stop’ gesture and rammed her hand into the knife making it easy to wrench from his hand.  The female OPS officer wouldn’t have been surprised if the whole of the ship heard Doq’s shriek of anger at being disarmed, but at that point, she had done what she could do.  It was up to the others to subdue the best the rest of the way.

[LT Arven Leux ] Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy] Attn: @Griff @Dree @Ellen Fitz
[Show/Hide]He quickly realized that the situation had gone to complete and utter shit, after poor Flo was knocked away from the irate Klingon like a minor annoyance. Arven had opened his mouth to try to calm the patient, but then the knife came out – which prompted several critical decisions to be made, post haste. His fingers tapped out a command, aborting the regeneration array and unlocking the scanner from holding the Romulan in bed - which was rather forward thinking, because for some reason he decided to goad the Klingon then - but the scanner rolled back just in time for him to dodge and roll out away from the Klingon’s blade. Unfortunately, that maneuver also knocked Leux back and to the floor alongside him, while the snarling old brute busied himself with the Andorian.

“Utterly intolerable,” Arven grunted under his breath, then tapped his badge, as his eyes and hands searched under the bed for assistance, ignoring the groaning Romulan for now. “Security to recovery ward, now,” he hissed, just as his hands found purchase on the only two items that he thought would really make any kind of difference in this insane situation. “What the,” he sighed in annoyance, “these aren’t even supposed to be here. This is why we can’t have nice things, nobody puts stuff back where it belongs! Whatever – stay here, stay down,” he whispered to the Romulan, then quietly got to his feet and snuck around the bed, a chrome metal bedpan in each fist.

This is a really stupid, horrible idea, Arven frowned at himself, as he snuck up behind the Klingon.

[Quartermaster Dok, son of Qannal]
Of the lot of them, the old warrior guessed the Andorian to be the greatest threat; the spineless Romulan coward would be dealt with soon enough, then he vowed to gut every traitorous bIHnuch that got in the way off this cursed ship. Murderous yet cunning eyes narrowed at the Andorian’s challenge as he readied himself, the secondary blades of his d’k tahg flicking open with a menacing snick, while his ears caught the useless whispering behind him. He wasted no words with her, for an honorable battle between warriors required none; all that mattered was victory...or death.

He struck, driving the d’k tahg in a blur of motion at the Andorian’s chest – a perfectly aimed kill-stroke – yet realized too late that his adversary had anticipated the blow. Without hesitation or a grunt of pain, his foe impaled her hand upon the blade and wrenched it from his grip, as they briefly spun around each other. A roar of surprise and admiration bellowed from his throat as he countered, stepping into her guard and clamping his fist around her neck in a vice grip, to pull her close enough to smell the death she had earned. His eyes flicked to one of the humans as he ducked out of view, choosing to cower in fear rather than face him – another sickening display of cowardice, before they snapped back to hers.

“Admirable,” Dok sneered in her face, then pinioned his massive elbow in a blind strike at the idiot he heard coming from behind, which smashed into his face with a meaty crack; yet his wrathful eyes never left the Andorian’s, even as the weakling crashed to the deck in a clatter of metal and dead weight. “You have courage, Lieutenant! I respect that, but a sharp blade is nothing without a sharp eye; remember that, if you live,” the aging warrior growled at her, then leaned his head back in preparation for a savage head-butt to finish her off.

A sudden sting at his neck and the hiss of injection interrupted the victory. Fire flooded his veins, numbing his insides with cold tendrils of agony. He was stumbling then, as his vision swam – his will betrayed by his body. Strength fled and he crashed to his knees with a grunt, eyes rolling up into his skull; he fell forwards, and darkness took him.

[CM3 Julian Florez]
He couldn’t catch his breath, even as it sawed in and out of his heaving chest. He’d scrambled as fast as he could through the back of three biobeds to get around to the Klingon’s blind-side; Dr. Leux was laid out cold at his feet, lips and nose bloodied and bruised, and Julian felt like he was ready to pass out too – but it worked, he did it, somehow! The hypo worked! The Klingon had released the Andorian, then staggered off a few steps to crash to his knees and face; but panic raced through Julian then with a sickening realization – he couldn’t remember what was in the hypo!

“Oh crap, ohhh crap... I think... I think I killed him,” Florez wheezed to himself between ragged breaths, then dropped the hypo as if it was a snake that was going to bite him.

OOC: (thanks for the roll, @Griff  ;))
bIHnuch – coward or weakling
toDSaH – wimp/wuss

[Lieutenant Alistair Leavitt (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Alistair_Leavitt)| PCU | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy ]
 Attn. @Dree @Ellen Fitz @Dumedion
[Show/Hide]
An unnatural silence fell over Sickbay in the aftermath of the fight, broken only by Florez's horrified realisation. Still somewhat groggy, Alistair was still sat on the deck with his back to a bed. A phaser was in his hand, although he didn't remember drawing it. Even so, he hadn't dared try to shoot Dok in his condition. He was just as likely to hit one of the others as his target. It had, in the heat of the moment, seemed like a smart decision,

The consequences were severe: Reika had a knife stabbed through her palm (the sight of her blue blood made Alistair's stomach rebel further), Doctor Leux was unconscious, and Dok...

"Klingons are tough, right?" Alistair said to the nurse in a hopeful tone. "They don't die that easily. I mean, it's not like you guys keep...ow...poison in those hypos."

Alistair glanced around, struggling to resist the urge to throw up. Between the slashes along his chest and back plus an excrucriating headache, he didn't trust himself to stand, so instead crawled over to Reika. "We need to help Reika, this looks bad..." Abruptly realising that Reika was still conscious, he smiled apologetically at her. "Er, I mean, I'm sure this will be easy to fix with surgery, not a problem, we definitely have Andorian blood donors on board..."

[ Hirek tr’Aimne | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy ] Attn. @Griff  @Dree  @Dumedion

The already wounded or unconscious were prevented from performing further heroic theatrics by the timely arrival of a half dozen security. A pair helped lift the Klingon back onto the biobed, this time with restraints. Florez animatedly reported the incident while simultaneously working to get the tools necessary to treat Reika and the Klingon, starting on one set of tools before derailing and starting on another, his mind overloaded by trying to do too many things at once. Another pair helped Alistair with Reika, the man easily lifting her from the floor and placing her on the biobed while the woman was less gentle in assisting Alistair to get back on his biobed. A single woman whose uniform barely restrained her voluptuous chest bent over the doctor to assist him, and the last security guard remained stoically by the door, his gaze following the actions of his peers.

The crisis over even before their arrival, the security team left two personnel by the door in case Doq got restless again, with the remaining four adjourning back to their other duty stations. With all the tender loving care being dealt out to the official crewmen in the sickbay, it didn’t surprise or bother Hirek when he didn’t receive assistance getting back on his biobed. Considering that one of these men had made the knife ear joke at a meal in the mess hall during the first days on board, Hirek doubted any of the man’s peers found Hirek more palatable. Hirek’s expression remained neutral even when he caught said man’s gaze on returning to his duty station. Hirek held no grudge, for there was nothing to be bothered by; the man had tossed mere words at Hirek, and to the Romulan, words held no merit on their own.

Having carefully placed himself back on the biobed, Hirek looked down at the floor. His lips quirked upward in an amused smile as he watched the buxom security female stroke her fingers over the doctor’s temples and down his neck, fingers poking along his arms and side as if looking for an injury. It wouldn’t surprise Hirek if the doctor were playing a little game for the moment, feigning sleep so that he could get some feminine attention before launching back into the business of healing people.

“Will the doctor be joining us any time soon?” Hirek’s question caught the security guard’s attention, and she gave a meager shrug in response. She obviously didn’t realize Hirek’s question had been directed toward the doctor himself.

[Lieutenat Reika Sh'Laan] Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy] @Dumedion  @Ellen Fitz  @Griff

Reika leaned her head back while cradling her wounded hand as security poured into the room and restrained the Klingon.  It allowed the Andorian to blow out the prolonged, intense gust of air that she had held back.  Having formerly been a tactical officer, it was natural for her to simply react to any tactical situation.  That, however, didn’t change the fact that, she felt an immense sense of relief after the rush of adrenaline began to wear off.  She closed her eyes for a moment as the pounding in her ears began to diminish, and before she opened her eyes again, strong hands hefted her off the ground and placed her on a biobed.

“Thank you, Petty Officer,” the Andorian said, trying to use her good hand and feel to help her reposition herself.  As she did, she took another deep breath and surveyed the scene around her.  But as her heart rate and the pounding in her ears quieted, the pain in her hand came to the forefront of her senses, but she breathed through the pain reminding herself that it really didn’t matter.  It was temporary, and she was sure that she’d be tended to as soon as those more wounded were cared for. 

It was then that Reika noticed the ample bosomed security officer fawning over the doctor.  And she was able to smile despite the shooting pain through her hand.  Her eyes, however, kept sweeping toward the door wondering if her girlfriend might walk through it at any time.

[LT Arven Leux ] Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy] Attn: @Griff  @Dree  @Ellen Fitz
[Show/Hide]His head felt like someone hit him with a sledgehammer.

Through that curtain of pain and the fog of grogginess, Arven’s brows lifted slightly at the odd sensation of warm hands on his skin reaching up under his undershirt in a sweep for injury. Highly confused, he blinked with a frown at the ample cleavage pressed into his stomach, framed by curled locks of wonderfully highlighted dirty blonde hair. This was all highly irregular of course; “sweeping the body” for injuries was a rather obsolete battlefield first aid technique any tricorder could perform with infinitely more detailed and in-depth results. His mind was too befuddled to connect the dots as to what had happened, however. Still – she was quite thorough, which Arven appreciated – professionally, of course. That didn’t stop him from recognizing the fact that the frame those disproportionately large breasts were attached to was altogether far too petite to support such a load without considerable strain.

“Your poor back,” Arven whispered in genuine sympathy.

“What,” her ministrations stopped, hazel eyes narrowed at his.

“What,” he blinked back, unsure if he’d spoken aloud or not.

A dark brow arched up over the (already) swollen socket of the Trill’s right eye at an amused question spoken from someone above. Arven grunted, then cleared his throat as he started to sit up – just as the dutiful security officer’s hands left his body to quickly zip up her collar, stretching the fabric of her uniform around the zipper to its absolute limit. “Alright, I’m up, thank you; no need for that,” he cleared his throat again, adjusting the teal undershirt she’d pulled up to get to his torso and back with a wince, still blinking at her bust. “I uh...thank you, miss,” Arven asked, eyes flicking up to her face then back down and up again in pain induced confusion. What is happening? Was this a dream? Had he fallen asleep at his desk again?

Then he heard Florez fussing over the Klingon; something about allergic reactions and possible brain damage – which was odd. The patient seemed perfectly fine and typically Klingon the last time Arven seen him.  Ah, the Doctor’s spotted features and body relaxed as realization dawned, this isn’t one of those weirdly realistic dreams, after all. Someone was calling for a doctor.

For her part, the PO seemed a bit put off, frowning at him in a look that seemed to convey incredulity and annoyance as she stood and offered him a hand. “Ellie Fairweather – not that it matters right now; you have people that need help, Doctor.”

Leux nodded, accepting her assistance to his feet to tower head and shoulders over her; like he did with most people. “Right,” he agreed with another wince; his eye was half-swollen shut, but he glanced around at the scene. Security had obviously shown up and dealt with things in a timely and efficient matter; two of his patients were bleeding – the Romulan was...smirking. “Uh, appreciated,” Arven murmured to to the blonde, who replied with a rather haughty snort as someone called for a doctor again. Arven frowned as she moved away. “Something I said?” he shrugged at the Romulan, utterly confused and trying to shake the fuzziness from his head.

“Doctor Leux,” Florez barked, and the Trill’s eyes and head snapped to the young nurse; he was hovering over the Andorian, treating the bloody mess of her hand while trying to read the bio-data streaming along the sensor readouts of the Klingon’s bed at the same time. “C-could really use a hand here,” the sweaty youth’s voice pitched and cracked like he was barely out of puberty.
 
Arven nodded again, glancing over his shoulder to the blonde PO as he moved to assist. “Hey – uh...Friday? Fire up that one’s regenerative panel,” he gestured to the Romulan, then nodded to the very concerned looking human male, ignoring the PO’s grumbled correction of her name. “Sit tight, I’ll be right there,” the Doctor assured him, as his attention focused on the Klingon’s vitals; fingers danced in a blur over the bio scanner with a frown of concentration.
 
“Well, good news is he’s pumped full of enough Virlixin to keep him in a coma for the next couple days. Bad news is it’s killing him,” Arven muttered to himself as he attached three hand-sized devices to the patient in quick succession then prepped a series of hypo-sprays to counteract the lethal sedative dose. “Impressive choice really – you know McCoy used it as a nerve blocker during a Gorn cesarean,” he asked Flo conversationally.

The nurse just shook his head nervously, trying not to think about how nauseous he felt or the burning acid in the back of his throat. “W-what?”

“He’ll be hungover as hell when he comes out of it. Eventually,” Arven continued without missing a beat as he injected the Klingon’s neck, then tapped out a series of monitor commands and verified the patients restraints before moving on. A glance over the nurse’s shoulder to the Andorian’s hand preempted a nod to her as he moved around to the other side of her bed to check out her scans. Her vitals were elevated and she’d lost a fair amount of blood, but nothing life-threatening. Florez had already administered a nerve block for the pain and was working deep inside the wound, sealing veins to staunch the blood flow.

“You’re doing great Flo,” Arven’s hand rested on the lad’s shoulder with an appreciative nod. “Take a breath, okay? I’m going to start on the his scratches,” the Trill’s head nodded to the side, at the lacerated human, “before he loses too much blood.”

“I don’t know...t-those look pretty bad,” Florez looked more than a little ‘green behind the gills’, as the saying went. “H-he said she might need a transfusion! Ohhhh man I’ve never done one for an Andorian before!”

“Doubtful. Main arteries were nicked, not severed, and your sealing those up wonderfully. Flo, just breathe. It’s okay,” Leux blinked his good eye at the kid. “You’re fine, she’s going to be fine.  Everything’s fine. We’ll have her throwing a perfect game in no time,” he told them both as he moved away (unsure if they understood the bowling reference or not) with another nod, tricorder in hand as he approached the bloody red mess of...whatever-his-name-was. The patient sat a bit wobbly on the edge of a bed, no doubt in considerable pain, and more than a bit concerned. Best to try to take his mind off things – distracted patients were easier. “Sorry for the wait. How do you feel about equestrian sports,” Arven asked the man quickly, scanning briefly before setting that aside for a hypo and a dermal generator; the slashes to his back were far more jagged but not as deep as the ones to his torso, but the surrounding tissue damage was far more extreme there. “Big fan of Rigelians myself – you know they’re bio-engineered descendants of North American Mustangs,” Arven asked conversationally as he shot a healthy dose of painkillers into the patients arm. “Little something to take the edge off before we begin,” he explained, then set about cleaning and disinfecting the wounds. “Never been on a horse myself – they seem dangerous at both ends,” the doctor continued, his voice pitched in calm curiosity as he worked. “What do you think?”

A glance at the Romulan over his patient’s shoulder saw him being tended to the buxom blonde security officer; who seemed to be smiling much more warmly at him than she had at Arven – which prompted another frown of confusion before the sound of a high pitched fart escaped from the unconscious body of the Klingon.

“Don’t worry, that’s normal,” Arven commented dryly, then casually asked Thea to increase atmospheric venting above biobed seven to save their olfactory senses from the unpleasant side effects of helium and methane.

[ Hirek tr’Aimne | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy ] Attn. @Griff  @Dree  @Dumedion

Dismissed by the doctor, complete with the wrong name tossed in her direction, Hirek was thankful the blonde, Ellie Fairweather, didn’t redirect her frustration by punching in the wrong codes on his biobed. Letting her work silently for the first few moments, Hirek cleared his throat to catch her attention before he spoke.

“Some men can be so dense.” Though she continued to type in the necessary codes to get the regenerative panel back up and running, Hirek’s comment drew her gaze up to meet his. “It seems to me that the doctor doesn’t know how to express proper appreciation for such a brave and beautiful woman.”

Fairweather snorter, “I heard about you, Mister Honey Lips. Don’t think you’ll charm my pants off with a few compliments. I’m not that easy.”

“Honey Lips,” Hirek purred, “how would you know they’re sweet unless you tasted them yourself?”

The woman laughed, shaking her head at the audacious nature of his comments. Hirek glanced over at the doctor, inwardly smiling when it was clear he had noted Fairweather’s laugh and, more importantly, at his side.

“No, you wouldn’t be that easy, would you?” Hirek settled himself more comfortably against the biobed, warm gaze languidly moving over Fairweather’s form before he tipped his head toward the doctor. “I wonder if he is. What do you think?”

Fairweather’s eyes widened, glancing between the Romulan and the Trill, her cheeks pinkening as her thoughts whirled in a direction she probably hadn’t planned on, no thanks to Hirek. The Klingon chose that moment to let loose a flatulence volley that had both Hirek and Fairweather wrinkling their noses.

“I think the doctor may need another hand since the nurse is so busy,” Hirek winked at Fairweather, closing his eyes to show he had no interest in debating. “And I’m curious if he’s easy.”

Fairweather rolled her eyes at the Romulan before she moved away from his biobed. She glanced between the nurse and the doctor before sighing and moving to stand beside the doctor. She was trained in basic first aid and figured while she was here, she could be helpful, even if the obtuse doctor couldn’t get her name right.

“What else needs attention, doctor?” Her voice was soft as she leaned over his shoulder, watching him work for a few moments before asking.

[Lieutenant Alistair Leavitt (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Alistair_Leavitt)| PCU | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy ]
 Attn. @Dree @Ellen Fitz @Dumedion
[Show/Hide]
After being helped back onto the biobed by one of the security team, Alistair observed proceedings with an odd calm. His chest burned, blood steadily dripping down his stomach in a crimson tide that quickly ruined his pants. Worse, however, was the unrelenting hammering inside his skull from Klar's vicious headbutt. Alistair had been headbutted by Klingons before, but always gently, and he had a newfound appreciation for just how gentle his friends had been back then, even while drunk.

 Combined, they amounted to the most severe injuries of his career. Even so, despite the pain and a growing nausea, Alistair felt quite placid. As the woman who'd helped him up wisely took away his phaser, he idly wondered if he was in shock, but decided that he knew too little about the subject to be sure either way. The one man in the room with that expertise was unconscious, being tended to by one of the security team.

Of course, Hirek viewed the situation differently, and for obvious reasons. Alistair remembered Ellie from the gym, where they were loosely acquianted, and she did indeed cut a memorable figure in gym clothing just as much as in uniform. He had considerable sympathy for the doctor when he awoke, clearly unable to process what was happening. Even under ideal circumstances, it generally took a man a good few moments to acclimate to being woken by a buxom beautiful woman.

Alistair grinned goofily at Hirek, recognising the other man's teasing. Nice man. Didn't seem to hold a grudge when people shot him. Enyd never mentioned that.

Throughout everything, Alistair simply sat, watched and grinned, thoroughly enjoying the show along with the rest of the security team who stood guard. The interplay between the doctor, Ellie and Hirek was hilarious, but Alistair was careful not to laugh. Setting aside excabating his injuries, he still felt deeply sick. Idly, Alistair mused over the irony; if he threw upstairs, it'd be up to him and Reika to replace the carpet. Being Deputy Ops was far from glamorous, even on a good day.

Finally, after Klar was seen to, Alistair watched the doctor approach him. For the first time in several minutes, common sense crept in; should the doctor really be working given how hard Klar had hit him? Still, there was nothing for it, so Alistair sat there patiently, even as he tried to puzzle out what the doctor was saying, not helped by Klar's eloquent aromatic interjection.

"Equestrian?" he repeated blankly, before understanding. "Oh. We don't have horses on my homeworld. My girlfriend invited me to her ranch, though. Guess I should meet a horse one day. They seem nice, right? Can't be worse than a frypiper. One of them nearly killed my sister once." As Ellie approached, Alistair waved, grinning goofily. "Hi Ellie! Nice to finally meet you in uniform." He blanched, looking down at his naked torso. "Uh...at least one of us is in uniform."

Quite out of the blue, he then looked at Arven. "You're really nice. Really nice. Really pretty. You too, Ellie. And you, Hirek. Thanks for helping." Another rare moment of insight occurred to Alistair as he glanced at Arven. "I have a concussion, don't I? Or I'm in shock? Seems rude. Reika was hurt more."

[Lieutenat Reika Sh'Laan] Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy] @Dumedion  @Ellen Fitz   @Griff

Reika’s arm lay across her lap and she held still as the young skittish nurse worked on her hand.  She looked on in interest as he worked to cauterize the blood vessels that had been nicked by the careful placement of the knife as she had thrust her hand into it to protect the rest of those in sickbay.

Somehow despite the nurse’s efforts, her hand kept oozing more and more blood. Taking a moment to really observe the young man….and he was young.  Maybe twenty or twenty one.  He looked a little green behind the ears.  Maybe he was just unsure of himself.  It also didn’t help that the doctor kept assuring the young man.  ‘You’re doing great, Flo,’ or ‘Everything’s fine,’ or ‘You’re fine, she’s going to be fine, everything’s fine.’ That made Reika more nervous than the fact that her hand kept bleeding, and she already had a nice stain on her pants where the knife had exited the backside of her hand.

But she didn’t feel like any remarks from her would encourage the youth, he seemed positively frightened about the possibility of doing a transfusion on an Andorian.  Though she knew there would be plenty of donors aboard if it came to that, though she doubted it would.  Having taken a basic course in field medicine during her tactical education, she didn't think that her wound was as bad as that.

With a bit of a sigh to herself, she looked over to see Hirek being well-cared for and likely enjoying himself with the buxom security officer.  And at least that interchange was amusing.  ‘Honey lips?’  Fairweather hit the nail on the head when it came to what dripped out of his lips - words that were sweet to the soul, and she didn’t even really know the Romulan.  Though, the Andorian felt that his lips we were bitter - not because his words were bitter but because his heart - at least to her - seemed to hold a bitterness from his past that wouldn’t allow him to find real joy in his current circumstances.

Unable to see through the grouping of people standing in front of Alistair, Reika asked, “How are you doing over there, Leavitt?  You gonna be duty worthy by tomorrow, or should I inform Ravenholm of your predicament?”

[LT Arven Leux ] Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy] Attn: @Griff @Ellen Fitz @Dree
[Show/Hide]He never stopped working.

Despite the ache that throbbed with his pulse, spreading through his skull from directly behind his right eye (the socket may or may not have fractured, Arven couldn’t tell) – he worked through the pain. The Romulan’s comments were a distraction that set his cheeks and ears aflame, but the doctor just clenched his jaw and did his best to ignore it; far too preoccupied to notice the blonde, Fairweather – approach. Startled at the sudden breath in his ear, Arven’s reflexes alone saved his patient from getting a bonus suture where one wasn't needed. He bit back the curse on his tongue then glanced at her.

She was right there, close enough to make him break out in flop sweat.

“Ah, you...can…,” the Trill cleared his throat, glancing from his work at her and back, then motioned quickly to the front side of the man’s torso, jutting his chin at the regenerator on the bed next to his hip. The poor fellow greeted her then, and asked a few concerned questions, prompting an equally concerned frown from Arven; who quickly picked up a tricorder for another scan. Before he could comment further, however, the Andorian spoke up from under Florez; the young nurse kept switching sides around her bed, utterly focused on tending her hand. “Uh, we'll tag team him. Take the front, please, I’m almost finished back here,” Arven finally told her in a low voice, oblivious to her reaction.

A quick wave over Leavitt’s cranium later, and the Trill shrugged. “There’s some sub-dermal swelling, ruptured blood vessels and the like; enough to inflame your sinuses to the point of blockage - bruises, in other words. Your feeling the pressure of fluid accumulation, unable to drain properly.” Same as me, most likely, Arven added to himself as he returned the tricorder to the bed. "It's on the outside of your skull, not the inside. Ergo – no concussion handsome, you’re just a bit loopy from the painkillers. Relax, we’ll get you fixed up in no time, wont we miss,” he nodded at Fairweather.

“Sure we will,” she smiled pleasantly.

Arven couldn’t tell if that smile was for him or the patient, though he told himself it didn’t matter; he simply cleared his throat again and continued to suture the man’s lacerations. “Some smooth operators in here today, I should take notes,” he laughed under his breath with a shake of his head.

“With eyes like that, you’d think you wouldn't need to,” Fairweather sighed from the other side of Leavitt’s torso.

Arven froze, blinking rapidly. Wait...what?

“Doctor Leux,” Flo barked excitedly, at exactly the wrong moment. Arven flinched, stapling two folds of Leavitt’s skin in rapid succession before he could do anything about it. The doctor bit his lip in a grimace as he snapped the device into retract mode to pull them out. “Frightfully sorry, entirely my fault – this might sting a bit,” he apologized, then plucked the first one out before glancing at the nurse. “Yes?”

“Oh, I...well, I stopped the bleeding – just...thought you should know.”

Arven gave him an exaggerated smile and a thumbs up. “Great work Flo. Lets get after that tissue damage, shall we,” he nodded to the Andorian, then yanked the other suture out. "All better. Almost done," he reassured Leavitt, then turned to glance at the Andorian. "You're doing great, miss, be right there in a minute," he nodded to her.

Ultimately, he knew that the situation could have been handled better. It was sheer idiocy on his part to try that stunt with such a violent patient; Arven chided himself for not being able to remember his name, too. I really need to work on that, before I really piss someone off. The Trill shook his head to clear it and refocused on his work. A glance at the Romulan resting told him the man would be fine, and likely released soon. Leavitt would probably spend another hour in his care. The Andorian, Reika? Would likely need V-Nine's services, only due to Arven's cautious nature; it wouldn't hurt to have a third set of...well...another eye. The real issue would be the Klingon.

He wondered how the hell he was supposed to explain all this to whoever came looking for him.

~FIN~