Skip to main content
Recent Posts
81
Interregnum 01-02 S2 / Re: Day 09 [15:30 hrs,] Once Upon the Island
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Pirate vessel qu'DuHSum | BIQ'a'bIng Ocean | Unnamed Island | Qo’Nos] Attn: @P.C. Haring

Where Hathev seemed to have fallen like an angelic feather, Cross face-planted like a drunken troll and only managed to get up faster than Hathev because he converted the momentum of the fall into a roll and leap back to his feet. A few of the Klingons had survived the blast and the net and were now laying in pursuit, firing as wild shots at them as Cross did over his shoulder.

“Fuck!” He yelled when Hathev backed up nearly into him, dodging a bat’leth. Hauling Hathev against his chest and twisting so she was partially behind him, Cross aimed and fired, the beam catching the Klingon squarely in the chest mid-rise of the bat’leth for the next strike.

“Keep them occupied,” Cross said, pointing to the much larger deck gun next to the gangplank. I’m going to get this bucket started so we can get the hell out of here.”

He started to move away when inspiration seized him. Taking Hathev firmly by the shoulders, he dipped her over his arm, sealing his lips against hers in a passionate kiss. They hadn’t the time for this, in all honesty. Still, she’d looked so damn fuckable standing nude on the deck, gun in hand with a weapon’s belt the only thing she wore on her delectable body, now with a determined look about her shoulders as she readied to deal out death with all the efficiency as a Vulcan female could.

“We survive this,” Cross whispered against her lips before his flesh hand came up to lightly grip her hair, tilting her head back further to kiss the pulse in her neck, “and I’m going to fuck you.”

He kissed her again before letting go, pushing both their bodies just below the rail line of the deck as the Klingons continued their furtive firing. Shooting his lover a wink, Cross scurried away to find the engines while he left Hathev to eradicate their foes in the most logical manner available: a very, very big gun.
82
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: CH 2: S [Day 01 | 1857 hrs] Expectations
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Arboretum Cafe| D. 20 | V. 3 | “Ranger” of USS Theurgy] Attn: @joshs1000

Lok’s wary stance was not lost on Cross. He knew there were precious few species in the galaxy, as far as they knew at least, who exhibited enough commonalities among each individual to be seen as a cohesive group, where how one behaved would be understood to be how the other behaved. The Borg were the first to come to mind as one such group, but they were not fully organic and were quite the exception to the rule. Meeting a second Kzinti on the same day and having such a dramatic shift in initial interactions intrigued Cross, but he’d never excelled at diplomacy or interspecies relations.

While Winters had accepted Cross’ “eccentric for an officer” nature at face value, and they’d even found much in common in their views towards idiots, it seemed Lok was less keen on being as straightforward from the start as the pilot had been. No doubt it had more to do with service background and personality than species, as only a narrow-minded wingbat would assume species as the end-all-be-all for differences.

“There’s a sink over there,” Cross pointed toward the closest lavatory adjacent to the café. I’ll get a seat over by the railing overlooking the arboretum proper. “He pointed to the open table that allowed an easy view of the café's entrance while also sporting a spectacular view of the foliage below. “Do you want me to go ahead and order anything to drink for you?”

Cross waited for Lok’s response before nodding and heading to the table. Wait staff came by to hand over the PADD listing what they were serving, and after a moment, Cross went ahead and placed his order, though he kept the PADD for Lok to look over.

“Commander Cross,” Cross looked up from his idle musings while staring at the flowers below at the sound of his name being called. “Haven’t seen you around here with a certain dark-haired beauty in some time.” Before Cross could offer an explanation, the civilian cultural entertainer placed herself in his lap and looped her arms around his neck. He’d nearly forgotten how much Kamila Patel enjoyed making him blush. “If you’re here alone, does that mean there’s a chance for me yet?”

She began to stroke her fingers along his ears, eliciting a stammering effort to respond from Cross as his hands hovered in the air around her torso, trying to figure out the best way to get her out of his lap without appearing rude. Lok reappeared then, and the woman’s honey-colored eyes traced the length and breadth of the towering Kzinti. She let out a purring-like noise then, lightly slapping Cross’ chest before pushing out of his lap and leaning over the table, giving him ample view of her cleavage.

“Or have you taken a liking for the strong, masculine, silent type?” She feigned a pout, only standing up straight when the wait staff returned with the order. “I’ll sing a love ballad just for your two.” She blew both men a kiss before sashaying away, not giving either a chance to get a word in edgewise.

Cross grunted, the sound almost more growl-like than grunt, as he grabbed his drink and took a long sip of it. Eyeing Lox over the edge of his glass, Cross again mused what it was about his personal demeanor or presence that seemed to have set the Kzinti in wary mode. Or perhaps it wasn’t Cross at all but his species? His rank? He closed his eyes and enjoyed another sip before putting down the half-drunk glass of juice.

“Not much a love ballad type,” he leaned his forearms on the table and nodded toward the dais where Patel began setting up to sing, “what about you?”
83
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: CH 2: S [Day 01 | 1435 hrs] When Trolls Dance, Vulcans Growl
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Battle Bridge | D. 21 | V. 3 | “Ranger” of USS Theurgy] Attn: @EnigmaTales

Cross followed the dark-haired woman like a wounded puppy eager for healing. He followed so closely on her heels, in fact, that when she stopped and motioned for him to get on the biobed, Cross just about walked onto her toes. Muttering an apology, he took his hand away from his head long enough to use both hands to hoist his mass onto the bed. He gave his designation as requested and closed his eyes against the brightness of the lights.

Giving a synopsis of what Cross had determined so far on his way to Sickbay, he swallowed the desire to let out a slew of curses before adding, “This has built up over time ever since I was ‘fixed’ by the Savi on the Versant. I’m assuming it has something to do with the fact that most of my life was spent as a hybrid, and now, whether or not I fucking like it, I’m a full-blooded Vulcan.” Cross briefly opened his eyes, offering the woman an apologetic half-smile. “Sorry.” He closed his eyes again and sighed. “I was never keen on all the Vulcan meditation techniques my Vulcan mentor taught me; they frustrated me more than relaxed, if anything. Sha’mura seemed to help, though; I’ll give her that much.”

He sat quietly or as still as the trolls dancing in his head allowed while V’lana performed a series of tests. Though he was tempted to ask how fucked he was as she worked, he still had enough decorum as an officer to word the question in a more polite fashion.

“Well, what do I need to change or do moving forward to stop these headaches?”
84
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: CH 2: S [Day 01 | 2115 hrs] After Hours Consultation
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Temporary Quarters | D. 11 | V. 2 | “Ranger” of USS Theurgy] Attn: @Relatively Insane

Cross chuckled. “I do not doubt that, Ensign Murphy. When I read files like that, I actually hope to get those individuals on my team.” He gave a half-shrug before continuing. “The movers and shakers of civilization were never by-the-book. There’s a time and place for those types, of course, the stewards and steadying hand type, but also, there is a need for those who don’t exactly buck the system, although that’s sometimes needed, but who look to perfect it by doing something different. These of the people who elevate a society beyond what it currently. Granted,” he gave another breathy laugh, “we alternative thinkers tend to struggle with communication and interpersonal skills.” He jutted his chin toward the PADD. “How often did you feel you were at loggerheads with the blokes who wrote those reports? Was it daily or weekly?”

He finished his tea and then put the PADD back on his desk, dropping the mug in the recycling unit and offering to do the same with hers if she was finished.

“Even with direct mentoring for rehabilitation, I’ll confess to having a devil of a time integrating once I was in the Academy.” Cross continued as he returned to his chair, hoping she might find encouragement by sharing some of his stupid mistakes. “I was either too extreme or too reserved, compensating one way or another until after a fu...many misunderstandings I managed to find a balance of sorts. Helped that some at the Academy looked past my idiosyncrasies and 'adopted' me as their friend.” He winked. “I had no choice in the matter. Do you have any of those onboard that you could lean on as you get your space legs back under you?”
85
Parallel Universes - "What if?" / Re: Theurgy: What If...? Below Decks Lounge
Last post by Dree -


Lt Reika Sh’laan | Below Decks Lounge | Deck 28 | Vector 3 | USS Theurgy

Reika walked into the bar.  There was a slight unconscious swaying of her hips as nearly all of her six-foot-tall frame walked into the Below Decks Lounge.  Her long white hair was half down (nearly to her backside)  and half up (in an intricate series of braids).  She had a short, black, leather mini-skirt and a form-fitting red shirt with a plunging neckline and fluttering sleeves.

It had been a long day, and unlike most of her days, this one was spent entirely behind a desk.  She needed to stretch her long legs and unwind, so without a look at whoever was in the lounge, she walked heal-toe in her four-inch stilettos over to the bar.  She didn’t even sit.  Instead, she simply set her hands on the bar, her fingers splayed out.  Her eyes unfocused and her chest heaved with a sigh releasing much of the tension that the Andorian had been holding in her shoulders throughout the day.

Even with her eyes closed, Sh’laan knew when the bartender was headed in her direction.  Her lids fluttered open and once the barkeep paused in front of her she said, “Andorian Ale chilled.”  She tipped her head and watched as her Andorian Ale was poured, and a spikey silver head caught her eye.  But it was only moments later that her alcohol was plunked in front of her. 

Picking up the mug and turning around so that her back rested against the bar, she held her mug in both hands and drained about half of it before coming up for air.  Some foam settled above her top lip and with an amused puff of air, a blue tongue wiped the froth from her lip.  Before she plunged back into the blue alcohol held in her hands, once again - almost unconsciously - her eyes flitted down the bar to the silver-haired Trill.  Her eyes sparkled with interest; but she let her herself survey the scene.

 Blue eyes drifted to the other side of the bar and then casually out over the tables in the room, but no one really caught her eye like the silver-haired Trill, so she let her eyes rest there for a moment watching the woman playing with a match.  The flame ate up the wood on the match without her flinching - and interestingly enough without burning, discoloring, or hurting her fingers, and Reika wondered about what was going on with that.

Instead, the Andorian plunged back into her ale and polished it off, once again turning around and presenting an alluring profile down the bar as she once again motioned to the bartender who had served the beguiling Trill another shot.  But another woman seemed to be talking to her.  And then another person took a spot at the bar between her and the casual silvered head.  Should she go big and make a move or go home?
86
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: CH 2: S [Day 01 | 1700hrs] Cross on the Titan
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Lower Gymnasium | D. 14 | V. 2 | “Ranger” of USS Theurgy] ATTN: @Krajin

“Let’s spar then,” Cross gestured to the mat before heading briefly to another area to grab some tape for his hands. “I don’t think I’ve pissed you off enough to warrant an ass-kicking just yet, so I’ll trust your word when you claim knowing how not to rip a guy’s head off accidentally.”

Cross chuckled as he turned back to face the Kzinti, lips pulled back in a sardonic smile. He grabbed a pair of sparring mitts for the larger man to hold while Cross did the drills, intending to switch after a time. After tossing the gloves to Winters, Cross continued.

“As for the Vulcan physicality, I’m still getting used to that. Used to be a hybrid, part Bajoran. A lab experiment cooked up by the Cardassians along with a whole slew of other test tube combinations. Only a handful survived as far I know, and if the Bajroan ‘liberators’ had had their way, I probably wouldn’t be here.”

The Vulcan followed through with a series of stretches and joint rotations as he prepared his body. Neither of them was wearing the proper judo uniform to merit true “jacket wrestling,” as Cross had heard it called once, and neither was Cross of a mind to change his outfit.

“I’ve had to make some adjustments and I’m still learning the ropes, in a matter of speaking, of being full-blooded Vulcan since the Savi were kind enough to ‘fix’ me and a number of others on Theurgy.” Cross didn’t hesitate to let the malice creep into his voice as he summarized the torment they’d gone through. “And some were beyond ‘fixing,’ so they were recycled.” Dropping his arms back to his sides, Cross jutted his chin toward the Kzinti. “I’ll do a jab, cross jab, arm trap, knee, pivot, elbow drill first.” He mimed the moves as he spoke.

As the men squared off and the Vulcan eased into the first drill, Cross spoke in between movements, commenting on some of Winters’ earlier comments.

“You know,” he jabbed, “I didn’t get this rank on the backs of political correctness.” Cross jab, arm trap. “I learned an old Terran term from my human mentor.” Knee, grunt, knee, pivot. “In the Marines of the old Terran armed services, a Mustang was an officer who was once enlisted before commissioning.” Cross swiftly delivered the finishing elbow against the sparring mitt, then returned to the starting position to do the drill again, only faster. “While that doesn’t necessarily apply to me, the concept was you have a man, or woman, who gets the job done and doesn’t give enough of a fuck about politics to get embroiled so long as the mission is completed. That concept applies.”

Cross finished the second drill and immediately moved in for a third, increasing his speed and strength with each successive set. Once he felt his body was sufficiently warmed up, Cross stepped out of the strike zone to mime the next drill he’d do: jab, cross, elbow, headbutt, clinch, knee, pivot and push.

He paused and shook his head. “There’s nothing dignified or correct about conflict once it gets to the violence level, and the loft idea of maintaining respect and honor in a fight is what kills more people than saves them.” He sighed before nodding again to Winters and starting into the next drill. “They say the victors write the history, but those victors were once victims, and quite often, they use their victory to make dumbass propaganda to excuse the atrocities they committed to become victors.” Cross grunted as he committed to the last pivot and push then readied himself for another round. “Would it surprise you to note that I’m not the diplomatic corps’ preferred officer to go to in a clinch?”

Cross maneuvered through a few more sets and another drill involving more clinches and lunges before he stopped and gestured for Winters to hand over the mitts so they could switch. Cross was marginally winded and had worked up a fine sheen of sweat.

“What idiot grabbed your tail and lived?”
87
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: CH 2: S [Day 01 | 1857 hrs] Expectations
Last post by joshs1000 -
[CPO Avandar Lok | Memorial Wall | Deck 21 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy] Attn: @Ellen Fitz
[Show/Hide]

Lok on the other hand was not so amused by the Commander’s comments, though he was a bit put off right away by the fact that the clearly Vulcan Cross was…chuckling. All the Vulcans he met before were quite stoic, he never met the truly emotionless ones, but had never seen one chuckle or smile. Holding out the PADDs with one hand he introduced himself.

“Chief Lok, sir. And no this isn’t from engineering, Ensign Herrold wanted you to sign off on some stuff for the flight deck since the Captain is I guess not here at the moment.”

Once Cross took the PADDs, Lok continued to stand, though in a far more relaxed manner than he should have been in the presence of a senior officer, as he waited to be dismissed so he could go eat. However, much to his surprise and continued putting off, Cross laughed, maybe this Vulcan’s starship has orbited the planet too many times, and invited him to eat at the cafe that Lok was unaware existed until now. This ship has more comforts than a Galaxy class. Figuring that at least he could eat something and also not wanting to get on a senior officer’s bad side, well not by refusing to join him for dinner anyway, Lok shrugged his shoulders and agreed.

“Yeah I guess I could see what they have.”

He fell in step with the Commander as they made their way to the cafe. He wasn’t thrilled about it but again he didn’t want to piss off a senior officer on his first day, and besides it might even keep the man off his back in the future. Well off his back in the not fun way, he was certainly handsome for a Vulcan, pointy ears were always attractive to him, and there was something about a bald man that just kind of worked sometimes.

Lok’s issues with officers goes back quite a ways, perhaps even a symptom of his teenage years. Despite wanting to go the Academy and become an officer, he actually used to draw pictures of himself in a captain’s uniform, he didn’t have the level of intelligence that Starfleet considered acceptable, among other things. When it came time to apply, hoping despite his poor grades that perhaps his determination would gain him entry, he was turned away by the Academy liaison before he even had a chance, recommending that he enlist instead and perhaps with some years of practical experience try again or even rise up through the ranks enough to transition into being an officer. At the time this made sense to Lok, he wanted to join Starfleet so bad it hadn’t even crossed his mind that he was written off so casually.

It took several years for him to realize this and it has left him embittered at the Academy ever since. Further years of experience also showed him that officers were not as smart as they thought they were. Causing all kinds of trouble for the ship and then not batting an eye as they order the enlisted to clean up the mess while they attended a violin concerto. While he wasn’t planning on laying this all out to Cross, it certainly would account for his current hostility that the man was perhaps sensing. Though he could also just think it was because Lok was some hulking Kzinti on the verge of going berserk, apparently a rumor had already gotten around that he was violent.

“I’ll need a place to wash my hands", he says, holding up his large grease-covered furry mits for the Commander to see, the brown fur stained black.
88
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: PRO: S [Day01 | 1030 hrs] The World I Know and the World I Don't
Last post by Dumedion -
[LT Arven Leux | Recovery Ward | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy] Attn: @joshs1000
[Show/Hide]
The corner of his lip curled subtly at Lok's cockiness, genuinely amused, but the doctor offered no commentary while the Chief continued to remark on previous difficulties with his medical records. Arven's brow creased a fraction more at the absurdity of it; even if there was a limited number of Kzin, much like Deltans, for example, to his mind that would only make the need for accurate and detailed medical information on the species more paramount. Limited access would be understandable, but restricted and redacted to everyone without four or more pips on their collar? Especially in the current circumstances? It was beyond ludicrous. If they valued their physiological secrets so ardently, then they shouldn’t have been allowed to join Starfleet, or put themselves under the care of non-indigenous people, Arven frowned, at the very least that treaty should be –

Lok interrupted those bitter thoughts with his subdued admission, then; to which Arven nodded in acknowledgement. He’d seen and treated enough boxer's fractures to recognize the patterns, yet was relieved to hear the Chief’s honesty and responded in kind.

“Who am I to tell? I can’t even upload your file, Mr. Lok,” Arven snorted with a gesture to the display screen, then offered a slight shrug. “I recommend you take every precaution in the future to avoid such injury, however. We have multiple gyms aboard, with adequate equipment; padding helps,” he waved to Lok’s hands. “I would also ask that you come in for treatment, or at least a consult, if and when it does occur. Perhaps we’d all learn something then, hm?”

“Dr. Leux,” Thea’s voice intoned, “Capt. Ives is currently unavailable, as is the XO. I regret to inform you that without their access codes, I am unable to assist in any remedial capacity.”

“Very well, thank you Thea,” Arven waved her off impatiently, then sighed and muttered under his breath. “We’ll just handle it ourselves then,” the doctor picked up a PADD and quickly severed its data connection to the ship’s on-board database, then synced it via direct interface with the bio-scanner of Lok’s bed. “I’ll burn two copies, one for us and one for you. You’ll have to keep it on you while on duty,” he shrugged, “but at least this way we have something to prevent any muck ups, hopefully. It also holds all the logs and…other pertinent personal data for you to review at your leisure – you know, like the one you nearly brained me with,” he added in a monotone drawl.

Once the data was loaded, Arven handed the tablet over to Lok with a nod, then duplicated the process with a fresh PADD. After another moment, the process completed; Arven nodded again, then turned his attention back to Lok, brow raised in query.

“I reckon that concludes our business here today Mr. Lok. If you’re ready, I’ll leave you to…,” Arven’s head tilted, “dress? Do they make uniforms that big,” he wondered aloud, then shrugged and gestured to the replicator. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. I’ll go get your discharge started in the meantime. Once your all set you can head out to reception and be on your way.”

Just as he neared the door leading back out into the corridor towards reception, Arven hesitated and spoke over his shoulder with a hint of amusement.  “Welcome aboard, again. Follow-up in three days, Chief, non-negotiable,” the doctor intoned as he stepped through.
89
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Chapter 1: Triggered Much? [ Day 1 | 1800hrs ]
Last post by Number6 -
[Lt Vanya| Maintenance Corridor | Romulan Space Station | Romulan Space ]
@Stegro88@Dree   @Nesota Kynnovan a Kynnovan @Ellen Fitz tz  ((later on: @RyeTanker Tanker  @P.C. Haring Haring  @Hans Applegate ))

As Vanya looked around the enemy space station, she considered the paper portfolio nestled in her gear back on the ship  It was a proposal on the positive uses of Thaleron, written by a Theurgy lab orderly.    Nueva had once been a promising officer, but this research, like the subject itself had burned through and obliterated her career.   If they were still in the Federation, Vanya would have committed a court martial offense.   She would have been drummed out of Starfleet, but not before some vengeful admiral had her freedoms overridden and had her dismantled and archived in some back water annex of the Daystrom institute.
  
Few things made Vanya more uncomfortable than Thaleron.   She tried to weigh things up rationally.   Perhaps it was the destructive potential of the stuff.    As a scientist, every thought and position she had told her that it was something that should be destroyed, and every piece of Thaleron research should be locked on a fire wall where after successfully entering a 47 character encryption key, the person must take an ARA test to confirm that they are not going to use the data to construct a weapon, just that they are looking to counteract the effects of one such bomb that had been created somewhere else.  

On the other hand, she was much like a Thaleron weapon herself.    They were both created by Romulans.   They were both designed to be weapons of last resort, her an android that was against all Romulan doctrine on synthetic life forms, Thaleron a weapon that could rip the life from a world.  And yet…

She had been allowed to escape.   Her creator had given her a spark of self-determination and independence – something that many cultures had feared in AI’s since the earliest speculative fiction on a hundred worlds.   And yet, she had not attempted to usurp organics, or enslave them, or do anything other than what was asked from her as a Starfleet officer.    And yet, just by doing that and doing what was ultimately right, she was a renegade anyway.    

Was her mother, and Crewman Nueva truly that different?   She might be an officer of Vanya’s grade, or above, but in focusing on illegal Thalaron research, she had doomed herself to scientific oblivion, in the same way her mother cand condemned herself to death for something that she believed in too.   It was clear from the research.  

Still, the time for debate was past.   The mission was clear.   

"Let's do this." she said at last
90
Interregnum 01-02 S2 / Re: Day 15 [1410 hrs.] The Gemini/Bloodwing Adventure
Last post by P.C. Haring -
[Lt. Reggie Suder | Hamar Mountains | Qo'nos ] Attn: @Griff‍ 


Reggie was only aware of the duel between Lilee and Balq peripherally through her telepathic centers. She sensed enjoyment through their fierce determination, and as she sparred with R’Vek, she decided it was enough just to know both her romulan companion and her opponent’s Klingon companion were both alive.

As for R’Vek and her, they were both giving as good as they got. At first Reggie was not sure that her fighting style with the Katana would be a sufficient counter to the style R’Vek adopted with his Bat’Leth. But either he was going easy on her, he was less skilled with his weapon than she had expected, or she was better with hers than she gave herself credt for because the contest seemed to carry on for quite a bit.

They traded strike for strike, neither the Betazoid nor the Klingon gaining a significant upper hand on the other. What she lacked in raw strength, Reggie more than made up for in her agility. For R’Vek it was the exact opposite. But ultimately Reggie knew her strength would sap before his as she was using hers to both fight and move, to say nothing about the high altitude and the thinner air denying her body all of the oxygen it demanded for this level of activity.

R’Vek’s weapon came down on her. Instinct took her as she rose her sword up, letting it tip to one side so as to parry the blow safely to her right. His momentum was too much for her and she staggered to the left spinning past him. Resisting the urge to strike his back with the flat of her grip (such a move would be considered dishonorable), she tried to put a few steps between them and give herself a moment to regroup.

But R’Vek was prepared and before she could put her foot down to step. She felt the leg swing forward as his arm swept under her and planted her ass and back on the hard rock of the slope. Her head bounced off the rock as well, a tightness starting small and blooming larger until every muscle in her face seemed to tighten and then release.

She might not have a concussion, but she would certainly have a goose egg back there.

“E-cha!”

The feel of cold steel against her neck forced her eyes open and for a moment she froze in fear of her own life. The Klingon language was unfamiliar to her and she was unsure of exactly what R’Vek had said. But her telepathic centers picked up on his motivation, and the response he was expecting to hear.

“Movek.”

Satisfied he withdrew his weapon and offered his free hand to her. Still somewhat disoriented she reached for it and before she could think she had hoisted her off the ground and to her feet. Had it not been for his steady, firm grip, the disorientation and the budding pain in her head would have sent her right back to the ground and, judging by just how close she had been to the edge of the plateau, down the side of the mountain.

“You fight well…” R’Vek said.

“For a human,” Reggie answered.

At this R’Vek laughed. “You are no human, Regiene Suder. Do not think I did not hear your voice in my head and by the black color of your eyes… no. You are no Human at all.”

Fear took her. Would the Klingon attack again, this time out of anger?

“I meant no disrespect, R’Vek. I assure you that in no way did I attempt to influence…”

He held his hand up silencing her immediately. “You showed great honor. I have often wondered what it would be like to fight a Betazoid and I thank you for providing that opportunity.  You fight well and I am honored, Regiene Suder of Betazed.  ”

“The honor, sir, was mine,” she said as, for the first time, she felt herself relax.

She stepped to her fallen weapon and sheathed it. Seeing that the contest between Balq and Lilee had lkewise come to some semblance of a peaceful resolution, she and R’Vek stepped towards the women to see how they were doing. Her head hurt still, and she wondered if she’d managed to give herself a concussion. However, she pressed on, unwilling to show any sense of weakness to these Klingons.
Simple Audio Video Embedder