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Day 05 [1000 hrs.] bISolnISbe'taHmeH yIyep ma'rIch Ides

"bISolnISbe'taHmeH yIyep ma'rIch Ides"
STARDATE 57568.68
SUNDAY, MARCH 15, 2381
1000hrs

[Lt. Cmdr. Natalie Stark | Transporter Room 1 | Deck 05 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ]Attn: @Numen 
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Adjusting the sash that fell over her shoulder, Natalie Stark pulled a bit of a face. She felt at odds with what she was wearing, and what she was about to do. The people she was to meet with knew who she was. A Lieutenant Commander in Starfleet, Chief of an Operations department on a Multi-Vector Dreadnought starship, and Second Officer of said ship, the USS Theurgy. A woman of some accomplishment of late, if of small physical stature. Someone to be reckoned with, by the merit of her rank and accomplishments, especially at an age as young as hers.

Someone currently wrapped in a flowing orange and brown woven robes, with a muted red sarong about her hips and a pair of sturdy sandals that were light years away from the uniforms she'd worn since graduating from Starfleet Academy some six years prior. Again, she stopped to glance at herself in the reflective black surface of one of the many computer panels that ran along the corridor leading to the main transporter room on Vector 01.

Her hair was styled like the locals, with a jeweled pin holding it back over her right ear, but letting the strands cascade down over her left shoulder. Even this felt out of place for Natalie, whom usually wore her hair either completely loose, or held in place by a band, in a ponytail at the nape of her neck. Instead, she had this...thing in her hair, done up like she was going to some party, and wore a dress that felt more like a toga than a proper piece of clothing.

Vanya seemed to like it, she reminded herself. And Commander Ducote assured me it was appropriate attire for the locals. But still, she frowned again and let out a long suffering sigh. She had a meeting with the latter that had wrapped just before, and was on a tight schedule, so she'd appeared for it already dressed in the native garb she had procured for the mission. During the consultation, in which the new First officer and the new Second officer went over the records for materiel that had been coming to the Theurgy over the past few days and the already prevalent delay in deuterium shipments, the Ops Chief had fidgetted about, trying to get comfortable in the garb.

The two had reviewed a duty roster, and a choice was made. Orders were given, and then Natalie was sent on her way. As with the trip from her quarters on Vector 02, through to the transporter to Vector 01, now to her treck back to the transporter room drew lots of looks. Lots of them she thought, trying to dismiss the feeling of eyes on her every step. It was a more revealing outfit than she might have chosen for herself, but it was something popular with the humans on Aldea, and she had to blend in.

Even though she wasn't meeting with the local human representatives.

Five days prior, the Theurgy had arrived in Aldean space, and docked at a cloaked shipyard. Since then, Natalie had been busy as a bee, forwarding requests for supplies and coordinating repairs across three vectors, as well as helping to oversee personnel transfers, duty rosters and scheduling leave. One of the more immediate requests was to replenish the deuterium stocks for the ship. The request had been put in on the 12th. A plan had been returned within hours, and shipments had begun on the 13th. However, two days later, it was already apparent that the locals hadn't been keeping up the schedule.

Procurement and refining of Deuterium in the Aldean Star system fell under the auspice of the Klingon Defense Force, whom were overseeing the transfer. What Natalie didn't know was where in the system the deuterium was being harvested. The immediate local space was lacking of the vital isotope, and the Theurgy had not been able to harvest any while in the Azure Nebula. And docked as they were, running the Bussard Collectors would have been useless.

Deuterium - or heavy hydrogen - was a vital component in fueling matter/anti-matter reactions needed to power a starship, along side dilithium crystals to control the reaction and focus the energies. And Theurgy's tanks were depressingly low after the events of the past few weeks. The efforts inside the nebula, including the rapid warp jumps, as well as navigating the Transwarp conduit had taxed their reserves. 

The Klingons had a facility somewhere in system that generated a massive amount of Deuterium to flew the garrison squadron at Aldea, as well as the near by Defense Force's Fifth Fleet. As with large chunks of the Empire, however, the Fifth fleet was understaffed and in dire need of supplies. For the same reason that Theurgy's fighters were helping with local patrols - everyone had suffered, dearly, from the Borg Assault on the Azure nebula. Martok had pulled forces across the board to assemble his attack fleet, stripping ships away from remote posts like Aldea to fill holes closer into the nebula, or ensure picket lines along more prominent powers maintained an alert status even after the devastating fight.

It was for this reason that Natalie assumed the shipments of Deuterium were being delayed. The locals were over worked and understaffed at the moment, with requests for fuel coming in from a mass of ships, not just Theurgy. But the mighty vessel needed as much fuel as easily three of the KDF cruisers. And Natalie wanted her ship ready to fight at a moments notice.

So here she was, stepping into the Transporter room, a stylish bag thrown over one shoulder with a PADD containing all that they needed to discuss, trying to summon the courage to face down Klingon administrators. All she was missing was her escort.

Reasoning that she was going to have to deal with Klingons, and having very little experience in doing so, Natalie and Commander Ducote had taken a quick review of personnel available to them. Based on duty rosters, and the timing involved, as well as the general reliability of the options on hand, one person had risen above the rest. Thus, Lt. jg, Khorin Douglas had been summoned to meet Natalie in the transporter room, dressed in appropriate civilian attire.

After all, what was that old adage? Natalie had asked Ducote. "The best person to deal with a Klingon, is a Klingon."

OOC: tagging in @Top Hat and @Jesaya since I'm referencing off screen interactions with some of your characters.

Re: SD 57568.68: bISolnISbe'taHmeH yIyep ma'rIch Ides

Reply #1 –
[ Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai | Lt. Praise Quarters| Deck 8 | USS Theurgy]
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@Brutus



For the fiftieth time, Khorin looked at his image in the mirror. He frowned, unpinned the symbol of his house from his shoulder and left it over the sink again. Even a Klingon as thick as two short planks might recognize the Mo'Kai emblem, so it would ruin any attempt to go unnoticed at the station. 'Go undercover as much on the station as on the surface of the planet' had been the general ordinance. Khorin was deeply disappointed about this. For the first time in his lifetime, he could appear as an authentic Klingon warrior to other Klingons.  A FULL KLINGON warrior. The pilot had always idolized his father's culture and had tried in every way to be more Klingon than any pure blood. But no matter how hard he had tried, how many members of his House had backed him and treated him as one of them: his people were absolutely adamant about the fact that a hybrid was a second-class citizen. Even if he belonged to one of the Great Houses. No matter how much he excelled among his peers, no half-blood would ever be good enough in the Empire.


Khorin sighed and slipped his fingers across the Emblem one last time. "Not today" he rumbled to his reflection in the looking glass. "But soon" assured himself as he adjusted the fine silver sash again over his right shoulder and slid his fingers following his lattice over his chest. At least he had that. That cord signaled him as the member of a House, in direct line with the Head of House, in the line of succession even though he wasn't the immediate heir. He may have had to hide the family he came from, but at least he would be branded as someone with an important position and distinguished blood. It wasn't much, but it would make the draught less bitter.

"Khor, do you want to get out of the bathroom now?" Zephyr's voice sounded from the other side of the door. She seemed annoyed, so Khorin hastened to take a look around, just in case there was something there that nagged the betazoid even more. His inspection calmed him down. Hardly a couple of wet towels and a small pile of dirty clothes. Nothing out of the ordinary. And he would take care of that as soon as he got back from the mission, so it wasn't a BIG deal.


" Wait a minute," Khorin rumbled in response, combing the mottled skin of his sleeves. The door shook under Zephyr's fists in return, as the woman knocked on the door to urge him to leave the bathroom all at once. In a sudden impulse, Khorin undoed his ponytail and let his long mane fall into unkempt locks on his shoulders. No matter what, he was running out of time and would soon be late for the mission so he couldn't waste any more time smartening him up. Clutching the emblem swiftly, as he planned to leave it in its usual place on the shelf on the bed, the pilot finally opened the door.


"Good grief, Khor, it takes you more time to groom yourself than a teen girl for the prom" was the grumpy phrase with which Zephyr received him. However, her expression changed slightly as she evaluated him with a glance, staring at him from top to bottom. "Well, at least it was well worth the time. You look really handsome, Khor," he praised him.


"Just to be worthy of you, Kyamo" he purred in reply as he stroked her cheek. She grinned and, for Khorin, the world became brighter, kinder for an instant. Zeph's hands slid down his arms, drawing the emblems pinned in the fur. "You must go undercover, remember?" she whispered in a slightly worried tone.


"Yeah, yeah, no 'greeting to a Great House heir, peasants.' for me today. I'll behave, I promise." he teased, showing her the emblem in his hand. "I just wanted to see what the complete outfit looked like. Not every day can I look in the mirror and shout: 'yo, this is me, fucking heir of Mo'Kai House, bitches'" he joked. "It's just the bodyguard badge and the equivalent of my rank if I were part of the KDF," he affirmed.


She nodded and tiptoed to kiss his bearded cheek. He intercepted her lips and kissed her with enthusiasm. "See you later my love," he rumbled her before letting her enter the bathroom. Khorin looked at the door as it closed on her back. And he kept looking at it for a while... Until an alarm reminded him that he should be on his way to Transporter Room 1.... 10 minutes ago. "Qu'vatlh" he snarled, clenching his fists tightly. And he rushed through the door.





[ Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai| Transporter Room 1 | Deck 05 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy]


Eight minutes later and three decks up, Khorin reached the transporter room just in time to see how the Lieutenant Commander Stark made her way into the lounge. At least he wasn't TOO late. Although all the time he had spent in the bathroom had been slightly demerit by the sprint. In an unconscious gesture Khorin raised his hand to rub the ridges of his forehead. It was only then that he realized that he was still holding the emblem of his House. The old metal brooch, tarnished by time had the shape of a sharp 'Y', with too many angles and too many corners. Khorin looked at it for a second and glanced sidelong at the commander. However, the woman seemed too busy fighting with her Aldean outfit to pay him much attention. So, in a sudden impulse, Khorin pinned the emblem on his shoulder. At the end of the day... what difference did it make? His ridges would betray him as a Mo'Kai sooner or later, so concealing it would only make the rest of the Klingon more suspicious about him. And chances are Stark didn't know what it meant either, as most humans she probably ignored the subtleties of Klingon dress-code. Therefore, she probably wouldn't even notice it. And wouldn't care about it.


"Commander" bellowed Khorin as a greeting, stepping into the pad next to a human with an ear to ear grin on his face. "Ready to get to hands if needed? A display of strength at the right time is the best way to do business with Klingons," he joked, faking his worst severe expression as he readjusted his sash. His tone was mockery, but Khorin knew that there was truth in his words... and he was willing to do it if his commanding officer gave him an order in that line... orif he intuited that it was needed...




OOC:

Qu'vatlh → general invective

Zephyr's dialoge write with @BZ consent

Re: SD 57568.68: bISolnISbe'taHmeH yIyep ma'rIch Ides

Reply #2 –
[Lt. Cmdr. Natalie Stark | Transporter Room 1 | Deck 05 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ]Attn:
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Once again adjusting the way the sarong sat across her wide hips, Natalie looked around the room and frowned. This seemed to phase Chief Warrant Officer Luff not in the slightest. The Tellerite smiled broadly at the frown he earned, as he stood over the transporter console. Transporters were not bis speciality but OPS was pressing all hands available, and the boisterous CWO has been let out of sickbay days before, having been treated for injuries sustained during the battle with the Borg. While Luff wasn't quite up to crawling  back through all the jefferies tubes, Natalie knew he was more than capable of standing watch over Transporter room 01. And his bristly demeanor would keep people moving along.

It was that need to move along that brought a frown to her face now. Nat knew she was running a bit late. Part of that had been her previous meeting running over. Part of it had been her efforts not to fall on her face. She had not worn a dress with such a long skirt in...well, since she was a child. Never as an adult that she could remember. While it was true that she had recently made the move to wear a skirt with her uniform more than the pants she had been using for years in an effort to assert a little control over her life, wearing a skirt that cut just above her knees was not the same as a dress that she kicked up with every step.

Despite that, she would have assumed her loaned pilot turned bodyguard and 'cultural specialist' would have been there already. Usually junior officers were much more punctual. She pursed her lips as she carefully ascended the steps toward the transport pad, and was reaching to tap her oddly shaped, replica Aldean combadge, when the doors slid open and a voice boomed at her.

She and Luff both turned to look at the towering Klingon that stood in the doorway, resplendent in the garb of his species. He grinned from ear to ear as if expecting the meeting to devolve into fisticuffs - and was eager for the prospect. That did not bode well in Natalie's books. If the lieutenant was any indication, then there was every chance that the KDF Representative she would be dealing with would also be as happy to throw down as Khorin. At which point she would be stuck between two (or more) massive Klingons with ego's to satisfy. And given that Khorin was a full foot taller than Natalie, her concerns were...manifest.

"Well Mr. Douglas, the idea is to keep things from descending to quite such a situation. I'm not exactly built to fling fully armored warriors about. This dress does not lend itself to close quarters combat." She held her arms out to illustrate the point, the way it was wrapped around her was rather restrictive. "I can only imagine our Aldean hosts did not take that into account when providing us with suggestions as to what to wear. I'm afraid I'll have to leave the smashing and bashing in your capable hands, Lieutenant. If I recall correctly, that's something you pilots specialize in on your off time no?"

Her tone was purposefully collected, in an effort to leave the younger officer with the quandary of whether or not she was joking. She cocked an eyebrow up on her forehead and stepped fully onto the transporter pad. "In all honesty my dealings with the Klingon Defense Force have been few and far between. We did some triage work during the Dominion war on the Mjolnir but after the war I had very little interaction. Until our run in with the Borg and our arrival here, that is. I am relying on you to backstop and help me avoid any glaring gaffs, Lieutenant."

And keep any d'K Tahg's from being shoved into any of my kidneys she silently added, assuming it would not come to that.

Re: Day 05 [1000 hrs.] bISolnISbe'taHmeH yIyep ma'rIch Ides

Reply #3 –
[ Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai| Transporter Room 1 | Deck 05 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy]
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@Brutus


Khorin smiled again at the human's reply and his chest rattled with a brief, deep laugh. "Well, I' ve seen my very human mother subdue two Klingon males of my height...." he assured while looking up and down at the superior officer, measuring the woman's body without any intent of hidding his approval. "... And she did so wearing more or less equally uncomfortable garments. She is even shorther than you, by the way" he assured with his trademarked sideways grin back on his lips. "In any case I doubt that things will escalate to that point, and if they do..." The Klingon cracked the knuckles of his large hands, showing that before anybody dared to touch a single hair of Stark's head, they would have to pass over his dead body. Khorin was a protector by nature, and that momentary bodyguard role suited him like a ring to the finger. After all, it was more or less what he did in his squadron, only with a bird around him.


As the commander described her brief experience with the KDF, Douglas folded his arms and nodded briefly, his face for the first time showing a severe outlook. Or something more serious than before at least, as the shadow of a smile kept peeking from the corner of his lips.  When she finished speaking, he took a few moments to answer. "All right, just a few tips before we start. First of all, attitude. Attitude can make the difference between a fight or a lucrative deal for both sides. It doesn't matter how you feel, or the circumstances that surround you either personally or to our ship. Don't show fear, don't beg, don't downplay yourself at any time. You must own the room as if you were the fucking Federation president, and you' ve deigned to meet them just 'cause it entertains you. You must show yourself as if you could beat any of them with a hand tied behind your back and you still have the time to get bored. Or as if you could send an entire fleet to reduce that station to stardust, if you become annoyed with the idea of talking to them for longer than necessary. Remember: OWN the room." Khorin confidently explained, puffing his wide chest with great pride. He didn't need to follow his own advice, usually his ego entered the room several minutes before he did so, and it was difficult to get him off his overconfident pedestal. That he had sometimes been accused of having a self-confidence that was inversely proportional to his intelligence had absolutely nothing to do with it. Not at all.


Returning to the thread of his own thoughts, Khorin kept talking, his rumbling voice filling the room completely like an entity of its own. "Any hesitation or sign of weakness will be used against us. A true Klingon is able to see the fighting spirit in the eyes of the enemy, Commander, so you should have  to have your attitude on check at all times." he said with a wink of an eye, as he grinned. He trusted that the commander would be more than capable of showing a temper of steel. After all, she was the new Second Officer of the Theurgy at that moment. He knew little about her, but she must be a formidable woman.


"The second thing you must remember is that, for the vast majority of Klingons, honor is more important than their own lifes. Knowing how to invoke the honor of your interlocutor at the right time and avoid offending them unless necessary is a valuable skill," the pilot instructed. "Just remember the saying: reHlughcharghwI', There is nothing more honorable than a victory, so if things got south, some Klingons will not hesitate to act in dishonorable ways if that brings them a victory," he said, as he shrugged  his broad shoulders. As he did so, the armour resounded thunderously and the hair that adorned his sleeves bristled, as if it were an angered beast.  "So trust your interlocutor's honor but locate the doors," he said grimly.


At their side, the tellarite tampered with the controls of the transporter console and glanced at the Commander, his gesture somewhat more grim than when the Klingon had entered the room, lips tightened, as if he was holding out to not spat some sarcastic remarks. The swine-featured goldshirt looked at the commander, waiting for her sign of acquiescence to send them both to the Klingon station. Khorin watched the mannerisms and returned his gaze to Stark again. "There is little more I can prescribe for the moment, not knowing who we' ll meet... I would just like to ask you something. Please call me just Khorin. My last name is human and a full-klingon with a human surname might be... very suspicious. My given name is common enough in the Empire to pass unnoticed." He requested while, unconsciously, his fingers fiddled with the thin silver cord that crossed his chest.



reHlughcharghwI' → The victor is always right.

Re: Day 05 [1000 hrs.] bISolnISbe'taHmeH yIyep ma'rIch Ides

Reply #4 –
[Lt. Cmdr. Natalie Stark | Transporter Room 1 | Deck 05 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ]Attn: @Numen 
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Wow. Nice to know I look as uncomfortable in this costume as I feel. Great job there Nat, you're gonna blend in real well over on the dock, she scolded herself, as the Klingon tried to bolster her confidence by comparing her to his mother and her trials and tribulations with subduing Klingon men. Which, really, became a mental journey that the Ops Chief was not at all prepared to travel down. Those blue eyes blinked a few times before she blew out a short breath and gave a (careful) shrug of her shoulders.

The toga like garment didn't fall off her body all in one go, so she counted that as a win.

Lt. Douglas did seem to grasp the essentials of the issue at hand, and a bit of the stiffness in Stark's stance seemed to ease off. What's more, he seemed to be taking this somewhat seriously, which was an added bonus in her books. From her limited experience with Klingon's, she knew that might not be the case. Even if Khorin was only a half Klingon until a scant few days prior, he was all Klingon now, and a small part of the Lt. Commander wondered if that affected the way he viewed his surroundings and his thought processes.

Thus she held her peace and waited, standing atop the transporter pad, as the gruff looking man broke things down for her. A trickle of doubt washed down her spine as Natalie wondered if she could keep such a facade up and intact for the duration. She feared she would come off as insincere, as she was not one prone to being boastful. But at the same time...she had commanded a Starship. She had faced the Asurian's in battle. And she had survived a hellish encounter with the Borg. What then were a few Klingon Administrators.

Catching Luff's eye, she thinned her lips a bit and was about to speak again, beyond the short series of, [color]"Understood,{/color] and "Reasonable"'s she'd given in response to Khorin so far when he brought up his own name. A frown passed over her face, but in the end, it did not seem so serious of a request for her to comment much on it.

"You are the expert Lieutenant. If you'd rather I forget the name Douglas for the duration of this mission, I think I can manage that. It'll be easier than pretended to be President Bacco." Natalie noted with a grim smile. Turning her gaze every so slightly, she added, "Thank you, Khorin. Chief Luff, if you please"

The tellerite seemed almost relived. The musical chimes of a transporter effect filled her ears, but not so loudly that she missed the muttered complaint, "Took you long enough."

[Transporter pad 4 | Dockyard Administration Complex]

As she became aware of herself again, the blue light faded away from her eyes. Immediately, Natalie took note of two environmental facts. First and foremost, there was an odor to the room around her, a sort of must that she had not smelt in some time. There as an earthiness to the air, with a hinted quality of wet fur, and just a dash of...lilac? What the hell?

The other thing that immediately struck Nat was the lighting. The whole room was cast in a reddish tone from the panels that ran along the floor, which was a metal deck plating through out. The Transporter Pad was raised up by three sturdy, utilitarian steps designed for a people with a slightly larger stride than that of the average human. The walls had a greenish tone to them, that clashed with the red light.

It was all so very Klingon.

As were the two men that stood by a console directly across the from the Pad, each sharing a look at the other. The fresh faced man whose fingers were on the controls conversationally said, "pa'vetlhDaq chaH toDlu'meH"*. This earned a bark of a laugh from a more grizzled warrior, whom clapped the young man on the shoulder and jovially pointed out, "Do' Say' woDDI' lom Har'a' SoH joq SoH."**

Turning from the younger man, the grey haired Klingon approached the stairs as Natalie descended. He smacked a hand against his chest in salute, and then barked in passable Standard. "Welcome to , Lieutenant Commander. I am Sergeant Qo'rd. I have the honor of ensuring you do not perish between the transporter pad and your appointment with Administrator M'Kish. He and his aid are awaiting you." The man paid Khorin no mind, but the Bekkbehind the transporter console was starring at Khorin, frowning slightly and shifting his stance to get a better look at the Klingon's arm.

"Excellent, Sergeant. I can only begin to fathom the dishonor that would come to us all if I should some how fail to walk down a hall intact." She flashed the man a grin that didn't quite reach her eyes, because this was not at all how shed like to handle things. However, making it a matter of honor, and adding a little sarcasm into the mix, seemed like a wise idea based on the brief lesson from her pilot turned body guard. "Lead the way, Sergeant. Khorin, do keep up," she added for affect, addressing the junior lieutenant behind her and hoping she didn't sound too stuck up.

Chuckling slightly, Qo'rd smiled a full toothed grin of his own and turned on his heel, gesturing for the pair of Starfleet officers to follow him. As they passed the transporter chief, the younger man watched, arms crossed over his chest. What he thought of, Natalie could not discern. The set of his eyes was hard and his face impassive. She was unsure if she were being sized up for strength, or beauty, or for how she'd look on a plate.

Never mind that the technician was more curious about Khorin, than the Lt. Commander.

OOC:
*They have arrived whole
**Lucky for you, or you would have had to clean up the corpses.

Re: Day 05 [1000 hrs.] bISolnISbe'taHmeH yIyep ma'rIch Ides

Reply #5 –
[ Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai| Transporter Room 1 | Deck 05 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy]
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@Brutus

Commander Stark seemed to be paying close attention to his advice, and she was internalizing it carefully. That only made Khorin more proud of her, firstly because his counsel was taken into account, and secondly because he had the conviction that his superior officer would perform excellently. After all, she was the second officer of the Theurgy, and she had him by her side, what could go wrong? Even the Ops. Officer seemed confident enough to joke briefly when he suggested that she use only his given name. The mental image of the voluptuous young woman pretending to be the almost centenarian president made the pilot laugh loudly, a hearty belly laugh that rumbled in the transport room like thunderstorm caught in a room. The guffaws kept going as both of their bodies lost consistency, and the laughts lingered in the transporter room even longer, while their figures had faded from the room.

At his station behind the control console, Luff shook his head and stroked his hair with his half-hooved fingers. "Fucking Klingons" he grunted once the jingling and sparking whirlwind that signalled an ongoing transport had vanished for somegood minutes. However, he didn't have much time to keep on complaining as he would have liked, scarcely a moment later, a group of humanoid crew members, all of them wearing traditional Aldean chlamys and wearing the natives' characteristic hexagonal communicator on their arms filled the room. The group' festive and boisterous disposition made it more than evident that they were heading for a more than merited shore leaves in the planetary capital, but that did nothing but sour the tellarite's mood even more. With a new groan, Luff put himself back at the transporter controls. Rolling his porcine eyes until they hurted, he wished that this group took less time to leave.



[ Khorin| Transporter pad 4 | Dockyard Administration Complex]


Just a moment later, Khorin and the commander rematerialized in another transporter room, though they couldn't be any more different from each other. Where in the Theurgy's there was a general, soft, white ambient light with no apparent source that bounced off the walls so that shadows were hardly present, the new room was lit with a red light coming from the floor, which violently clashed with the greenish metallic walls, casting some dramatic shadows. Where in the Theurgy the panels looked new and without any dent or notch, that current room seemed to have been in use for long time, and the nicks and use abrasions were clearly noticeable, there was no intention to hide them but they were proudly displayed, like the scars of ancient battles. They were signs of resilience and longevity, symbols of past victories, something the Klingons valued greatly. Everything around them seemed functional, durable, and ready for war, and unmistakably Klingon.  Khorin's dark eyes quickly adapted to the theatrical light and he allowed himself to inhale deeply, filling his nostrils with the scents of his people. The room smelled like Klingon. It looked Klingon. And deep within Khorin, that part that had always felt exiled in the Federation, without trully fitting in, thought he was at home at last. Perhaps not exactly in his home, in his  House, but among his own. Everything felt more solid. More real. Perhaps it was due to his recent Correction, but the pilot perceived more nuances, more details, as if the structure were designed exclusively for his new senses. And, of course, it was, he thought as a broad smile blossomed on his lips. For the first time he was a full-klingon among his peers, and even the transport technician's gruff banter sounded like music in his ears. Khorin felt static.

However, the pilot had little time to enjoy the moment, as one of the Klingons present in the room, gray-haired and looking as though he had engaged in a thousand battles, approached to welcome them. Khorin replied to the greeting beating his chest as well, as a perfect mimic of the old man's gesture. As expected, the sergeant only spoke to the Commander, and the Lone Wolf took advantage of that fact to observe the human demeanor. As he had hoped, her performance was faultless and she even allowed herself to whip the gray-haired warrior with a perfect retort that would make absolutely unequivocal to any Klingon in 5000 kellicams around them that she wasn't there to deal with nonsense and pointless bravado. Stark even dared to draft a shit-eating-grin that made Khorin feel quite proud. She was a top student.

Qo'rd seemed to take a similar view and answered the bravado with his own grin, leading the Starfleeters through one of the corridor. Khorin was ready to follow them, always one step behind the commander, in deference to her rank... and to cover her back. However, that position also allowed him to realize the way the younger KDF officer looked at him. He paused his steps, and reciprocated the impertinent gaze with another of the same caliber. "nuqneH!" he barked as he raised his chin in a challenging attitude.

The Bekk didn't seem very impressed and he kept studying Khorin for a few minutes. Finally he asked. " mo'qay SoH'a'?"

Khorin's face twisted in a grimace for a second, lips retracted, his teeth displayed in a ferocious manner. He had foreseen that such an event would happen, but not so soon. "HISlaH" he finally answered. He had no reason to hide the obvious.

The young Klingon chucked softly, an ugly sound riddled with nasty omens. A noise that concealed that he knew more than he said out loud. The meeting with Gorka's ship's crewman in the brig knocked Khorin' mind at that precise instant. His thick eyebrows descended upon his eyes in search of some feature, something that would tell him who that Bekk was or what House he served. However, nothing about his appearance was noticeable enough to identify him, possibly he was only a low-class warrior, serving in one of the Great Houses. But... in which one? Would it be an ally? Or an enemy of his own one? From where Khorin stand he could not know, as the emblems of his arms were hidden by the darkness of the room.
"SoH 'Iv qaStaHvIS cho' tlhegh" the young Klingon further inquired.

"wa'maH wej," was Khorin criptic reply. That prompted a loud laugh from the Bekk. The pilot relaxed for a moment, but soon he found that the KDF officer wasn't willing to let him go so easily.


"'ej ghaH quv 'Iw." He kept teasing, blatantly staring at the silver cord across the pilot's chest. "vo' vImughta' je yoH pagh je 'eDjen naDev qaSpu'DI' nuq ta' nuvpu'," he said in a threatening tone. Khorin had no idea what he was talking about, but he didn't like the way he was saying it. Nor his tone of voice.

"ghu' s malja', wej lu', SoH toDSaH," barked Khorin, leaning forward, his fists firmly clenched against his sides. It was more an exhibition of strength and muscle than anything else. He could not afford to jeopardize the mission by a veiled insult about something he failed to fully understand.

"wIlegh, mo'qai" merely answered the KDF officer, shrugging his shoulders. "DaH tlha' Human pIn'a'"

"taHqeq" Khorin muttered, staring defiantly at the other Klingon. However, he left the transport room and trotted down the corridor soon, tracking Stark and Qo'rd footsteps. When he finally joined them, both were almost in front of the Administrator's office door. The grizzled Klingon peered at him with a mixture of curiosity and reproach. Khorin ignored him and turned exclusively to the commander. His usual cheerfulness was gone and he seemed more thoughtful than usual. "Apologies, commander. I was... uh... researching a matter," he pretended to justify himself, but even in his ears the excuse sounded clumsy.


OOC:


Kellicam → klingon unit of length measurement, roughly equal to 2 km
nuqneH → Klingon greeting, could be translated as “Hello” but its literal meaning is 'what do you want'
mo'qay tuq SoH'a'? → Are you a Mo'Kai /Are you a member of the House Mo'Kai?
HISlaH → Indeed
SoH 'Iv qaStaHvIS cho' tlhegh → who are you in the succession line?
wa'maH wej. → A idiomatic expression, it could be mean either “thirteen” or “it is complicated”
'ej ghaH quv 'Iw.  → And one with noble blood
vo' vImughta' je yoH pagh je 'eDjen naDev qaSpu'DI' nuq ta' nuvpu'. → You're either too brave or too arrogant to come here after what your people did.
ghu' s malja', wej lu', SoH toDSaH. → That's my business, not yours, you idiot
wIlegh, mo'qai → We will see, Mo'Kai
DaH tlha' Human pIn'a' → Now follow your human master
taHqeq → a being known for telling lies; used as an insult when questioning another's honesty


Formating would happen soon, i can't deal with it in a tablet ^^U

Re: Day 05 [1000 hrs.] bISolnISbe'taHmeH yIyep ma'rIch Ides

Reply #6 –
[Lt. Cmdr. Natalie Stark | Office of Administrator M'Kish | Dockyard Administration Complex | Aldea System ]Attn: @Numen 
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At first, as the trio stepped out of the transporter bay, Natalie did not realize that their trio was actually a duo. While Qo'rd;s heavy footsteps clanged away on the metal grating, her own soft soled sandals made barely a whisper at all. Useful in certain tactical situations, Natalie was at least grateful that they provided enough cushion so that the metal plating beneath her feet did not feel too stiff and imposing. They still felt funny to her, as she had grown used to wearing Starfleet issued boots and garments in general, though she did have some loose fitting tops and lounge pants for when she was off duty.

Her skirts swished with each step, causing more noise than her feet did. Though this too was mostly drowned out by the Klingon sergeant's heavier foot falls. Those steps should not, however, have been so heavy that Natalie would fail to realize that Khorin had remained in the Transporter Bay. She could not hear, past the arch from which she'd come, the words said between the Federation officer and the KDF Bekk.

"Tell me, sergeant, have you served long at this posting?" Natalie asked, affecting a curious sort of tone, as if evaluating the older man as they strode along. His steps were broad, and she had to walk a little faster than she might to keep pace. She bounced in ways uncomfortable and awkward to her, and silently prayed that her glorified Aldean toga didn't suddenly slip open. She was foggy on just how Klingon culture would take that, and how much offense, amusement, and or loss of honor she would incur. Slender fingers tightened their grip under a part of the robe while her bare shoulder coated itself with goosebumps. The Klingon air was quite warm, so she attributed those to nerves.

At least I'm not blushing red - or if I am, they can't tell in this lighting, she thought with a level of wry amusement that she might not have been capable of even a year ago. It had been a rough couple of months.

"I have been stationed in the Aldea system for the last two years," he said cordially enough. "To keep an eye on all these pup's the High Command sends to keep our allies safe. Someone has to make sure they don't cut their own fingers off." He barked a laugh, and despite herself Natalie smiled.

Though it had hardly been funny at the time, she now recalled the day she had informed Nator of hir promotion to fill one of two Assistant Chief of Operations billets in Natalies departments. How she had come upon the irate Hermat lecturing an Ops Ensign that had no desire to listen to the more senior officer, and which resulted in said Ensign overloading a conduit and sending himself flying across the hallway. She shook her head now and dryly commiserate with the grizzled veteran.

"The wet behind the ears ones always seem to think they know everything and can't wait to prove it. Their heads too stuffed with their own self assurance to listen." Not all were like that, she knew. She herself was far too shy after graduating, and doing so in the tail end of a bloody war did not make things easier. She'd seen enough death in those final months of the Dominion war to send her back into her shell.

"So Starfleet is just as bad with its welps then? You speak with the voice of one with experience far beyond your years," he pointed out about as delicately as a Klingon could. It earned him a grunt of agreement.

"Service on the Theurgy has a way of providing years and years worth of hard learned lessons in months of time. And yet," she forced a bit of humor into her voice, "one of my junior officers was so hot to prove himself that he still blew himself halfway down a corridor because his head was too -" Far up his ass - "- full of pride to listen to advice from a superior."

There was another bark of a laugh as they turned a corner, and stomped toward a tightly sealed set of doors with some kind of Klingon script off to the right. "Sometimes they only learn the hard way, Commander Stark. As long as we keep them mostly intact, they might still be of some service to the Fleet." He started to say something else, then paused, a frown coming over his features. He looked over Natalie's shoulder (not hard to do as she was quite short), and she too looked back.

"We seemed to have misplaced your bodyguard, Commander." He said dryly.Though if something had happened to Khorin he was technically responsible for it. Unless he'd gone off to snop.

Natalie stepped a few feet back into the hall and caught sight of Khorin catching up. She frowned and turned back to Qo'rd, arms crossed under her bust. "Sometimes pups get lost. Even housebroken ones," shje groused just loud enough for the sergeant to hear. Both stared down Khorin when he arrived and offered up his excuse, earning a raised eyebrow from Natalie.

"I do so hope it was fruitful, Lieutenant," she replied, her tone even, neutral. It hid her worry that his delay might cause some kind of offense to their hosts. Had he not been telling her of the need for keeping up appearances?

Taking it in stride, Qo'rd grunted and gestured for the two to follow him as he punched in an access code to a panel on the door. It chimed a two toned, deep note, and then slid open. Qo'rd  didn't even look back as he walked into a room that looked like it had been carved from stone, buried in an ancient castle, and not an orbiting dockyard,.

Save for the window that looked out onto the system's sun in the distance, the room was medievil in nature and design. Dark stone walls, cast in a reddish glow with tapestry hanging about. A large stone slab of a desk, and wooden chairs with animal skins behind and in front of it. The requisite display of bladed weapons and trophies of war. Natalie tried not to stare too hard at them, lest she determin what species some of the trophies had previously belonged to.

A roaring fire added to the heat of the complex, causing a trail of sweat to bead and run down the Operations Chiefs back. She had to physically repress the urge to shiver. Ahead of her, Qo'rd strode up to the desk and placed his hand on the stone top. On the other side of the desk, in one of the throne like chairs sat a slim looking Klingon man. His hair was grey, like Qo'rd's, but not as grey, and the mans face had a wicked scar that ran across his left cheek and over the brow of his nose. His chin was bare, but he had long sideburns that drooped down from his jaw, and his hair was pulled into a tight knot at the top of his head. He wore deep green robes, almost black in the low light, and some sort of grey sash over top.

"Sa' M'kish. Dan jIH Sogh la' Stark, DIvI' Duj Theurgy, ''ej 'avwI', Sogh sub ghaH Khorin.*" The universal translator picked up the introduction of the Klingon words so that Natalie could follow along. The sergeant then spoke in Federation Standard, to Natalie. "Commander, this is Administrator M'Kish, in charge of the deuterium mining efforts in the Aldean system. As well as his aide," the older man pointed to a figure that had lurked just on the far side of the fireplace, cast in shadows. The man stepped out into the firelight as his name was spoken, "Gorka."

OOC:
Translation: * Administrator M'Kish, may I present Lieutenant Commander Stark, of the Federation Starship Theurgy, and her guard, Junior Lieutenant Khorin.

Re: Day 05 [1000 hrs.] bISolnISbe'taHmeH yIyep ma'rIch Ides

Reply #7 –
[ Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai|  Office of Administrator M'Kish | Dockyard Administration Complex | Aldea System
[Show/Hide]
@Brutus


Stark didn't swallow his apology, and Khorin couldn't blame her. That her only reprimand was a short statement and Qo'rd's admonishing gaze was more than he could ask for. Still, despite the pleasant heat of the station, the pilot felt the hair on his neck bristle. A bad omen, as if he were trespassing into enemy territory. As if a predator were prowling around them. "Fruitful? I don't think so. Instructive? Quite,"he mumbled, with a shadow of doubt and concern in his voice. It was a risk. Speaking softly was considered offensive among Klingons. A sign of weakness or, worse yet, falsehood. But he had little time, and there were too many ears around. He only hoped that the second officer would catch the warning. And that he would not err in his caveats.

He barely had time to say anything else, as the gray-haired Klingon pounded the panel right at the door, prompting it to open with a groan. On the other side of the lintel was a regal, flamboyant room.  As if the owner had rebuilt stone by stone the hall of a Great House in the reduced space of a Station. Had it not been for the window that showed the yellowish glow of the local star, they might have been in the First City. Khorin's gaze wandered lazily over the trophies. They were authentic, no replicated weapons. Here and there were some blades that still showed blood stains of the enemies they had killed. Or the allies. The furs on the chairs were no less impressive. Hides of massive Qo'noS beasts, as well as the spoils of ancient Klingon enemies, Even on one of the chairs, Khorin thought he could distinguish the lipless muzzle of a Child of San-Tarah. The effort that had to be made to bring all those trophies and trinkets there should have been monumental. So either that M'kish was someone really powerful, or someone with a severe ego problem. Someone with the need to be recognized and excel, no matter the cost. And if that was the case, he was an insecure... and dangerous person.

The Lone Wolf turned his head to the throne that presided over the room. M'kish was a weakling according to the standards of their people. With a bare chin, like a child, and hair that began to turn gray. He wore luxurious clothes and....


Gorka.


Khorin's body straightened up at once. He moved his gaze to the figure behind the shadows of the throne. His body took a step forward, beyond his will. Getting ready. 


It was indeed HIM.


Despite the years that had passed since the last time they had seen each other, he had barely changed. Gorka had inherited the height and broad shoulders of their father, taller than any of the men in the chamber. He had gained muscle since the last time they met, and while he still looked lean given his stature, he made Khorin look like a featherweight beside him. Despite this warrior physique, he was dressed in civilian clothes, in a black and yellow outfit that was characteristic of the heirs of their House. Looking at it, Khorin frowned. Gorka had always been ambitious, but that was an ostentatious statement of his intentions. Or that was not the issue? Rumors were true and Drax had disowned his first-born in favor of his grandson? In favor of Khorin's half-brother? When the pilot's dark eyes rose to Gorka's face, he was looking at him in return. The two were more alike than either wished to acknowledge.  Perhaps Khorin's face was more square-shaped, more full of edges. Perhaps Gorka's nose was more aquiline, with more pronounced ridges. Where one had rich brown eyes, the other had pale, gray, soulless ones. Where the pilot had a thick, wild mane and beard, the aide has his well comb-over, tight braids pressed against his skull, the beard dangling knotted and stiff, held by thick pieces of gold.

Gorka grinned. A sly smile, twisted by the scar that started from one side of his mouth, giving him an eternal expression of amusement. As if he laughed at something that only he knew. Khorin hated that smirk and that scar. In spite of having been him who had etched that eternal scornful expression on his brother's face. Gorka watched Khorin's disgusted grimace and thesmile grew even wider.

Something stirred in the pilot's chest. He wished to wipe that crooked smile from his face. Hit him against the bulkheads until he begged for mercy. As he had done in the past, when the two had fought. And on the other hand... on the other hand, he was his own blood. Margon's firstborn. And Khorin couldn't deny that bond. And his desire that, for once, Gorka would recognize him as an equal.

"loDnI'" He grunted, ignoring protocol. "You've thrived since the last time we met."

"Ha'Dlbah" replied Gorka, whose wicked smile did not abandon his lips. "At last have you learned to be ashamed of the blood that taints our lineage?" He teased, pointing Khorin new ridges with his chin.

M'Kish and Qo'rd watched the two young men with increasing interest. Such an insult was rarely ignored.

The Lone Wolf clenched his fists on his sides. The leather of his gloves creaked ominously. The pilot glanced sidelong at Stark before turning back to the throne. His trademark sidewide grin flashed in his face before he shrugged and bellowed.  "Qap tlham"

The four Klingons erupted in loud laughter.


jeghpu'wI' → conquered people. Former Empire's enemies, now aliens subjeted by the Klingon
loDnI' → brother
Ha’Dlbah → the bottom of Klingon social ladder. The word could be translated as “cur” or “inferior person”. A grave insult.
Qap tlham → “Gravity is doing its job”. A replacement proverb, said when one feels he/she has lost some honour and is trying to regain it.

Re: Day 05 [1000 hrs.] bISolnISbe'taHmeH yIyep ma'rIch Ides

Reply #8 –
[Lt. Cmdr. Natalie Stark | Office of Administrator M'Kish | Dockyard Administration Complex | Aldea System ]Attn: @Numen 
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For the time being, Natalie set aside her desire to pry into what exactly Khorin had been up to. The pilots answer to her own slight rebuke was...intriguing. Not an answer that gave much away, other than that he learned something, not necessarily something to his liking, but something all the same. Insight was important, but if it came with a cost that threw their mission askew, the Ops Chief was going to be none to pleased with the fighter jock.  She supposed it was stereotypical of the breed - pilots were always shooting off into the unknown at high warp, acting on instinct and thinking after the fact. This was just another case of that, but instead of a pair of thrusters strapped to Khorin's back he only had his two feet and inquisitive nature to blame.

She told herself she'd set it aside and focus on the man behind the stone desk. Luckily she'd gotten better at compartmentalizing and managed to do so. Mostly.

For a majority of the exquisite trophies, the cultural importance was lost on Natalie. Her interactions with Klingon's had been during the flagging end of the Dominion War, and then usually only during rescue/repair ops. She'd not been a front line fighter, and she'd never been the Klingon home world of Q'onoS. She knew nothing of what these objects meant, though she assumed it was designed to give the impression that the man behind the desk was quite the warrior. Thankfully she failed to recognize the pelt that adorned one of the chairs as having come from a sentient creature. The Martian was equally grateful that he hadn't been playing Klingon Opera. She'd heard enough ballads during the war to last her a life time.

Qo'rd made introductions well enough, as far as Natalie was concerned. He didn't botch her name, nor Khorin's. The combadge she wore that mimicked the Aldean variety still had a perfectly functional translation matrix installed for its Universal Translator, and the words the Klingon used were perfectly understandable to her. Though she could tell when he was speaking Federation Standard for her benefit, and when he was using his native tongue to address his superiors. Just that slight, double inflection of the translation board cast from her chest and the actual words coming out of his mouth. Less noticeable with species that spoke in a similar fashion to humans, than with those like the Xindi Insectoids, Jarda, or the Gorn. Their clicks, grunts and hisses tended to stand out to the point that the translator's matrix sounded particularly artificial in comparison to the original voice.

Can't quite say I'm sure they're his betters. Superior officers, higher posting, sure. But something about these two... she thought, letting the thread trail off for the moment and feeling her spine stiffen up slightly. It was time to make an impression. Instead of smiling wide on her face, she inclined her head, in a fashion she had seen a Klingon Captain offer Captain Xaifel Brod, the Bolian ship-master of the Mjolnir, and was about to speak, when she noticed that Khorin and the Gorka were facing off. She turned her head, eyebrow arched, along with Qo'rd, and M'Kish,.

Gorka was a bit man, and Natalie found her  gaze jerking upward slightly when she looked toward him, and then back to Khorin. There was something...she was missing. She could tell it instantly. Despite years of protest at not being a 'people person', Nat's tenure as the Theurgy's Assistant Chief of Ops, and her current role as Ops Chief and Second in Command had gone a long way to helping her read a room. These two knew each other, and they did not like one another at all.

Well, shit, that's just what I need. Of course there would be someone here that he....wait. Unable to hide the look, Nat narrowed her eyes, starring at Gorka's head, then over to Khorins. There was a similarity there that, once you thought to look for it, you couldn't miss. Double dumbass on me, she thought sharply as a welling sense of dread bubbled up in the pit of her stomach. As well as she got along with her family, before...everything...she knew that there were few feuds as nasty as a family feud. And I just brought one along for the ride. Crap, crap...

Before she could take control of the situation, the two...brothers? were at it, trading barbs. Natalie struggled to keep her face impassive, though she saw a small smirk on the old Kllingon Sergeant's face. he was enjoying this, she saw, though she was unsure why. Unlike Qo'rd, M'Kish was stony and unreadable, silently watching the exchange. Her translator struggled over the title that Gorka gave Khorin, though she was able to discern it was an insult, which was not at all what she needed right then, But it seemed to her that a fight wasn't quite breaking out. Or more so, that Khorin was exhibiting some self control that his Academy training would have drilled into him, as he turned the issue into a joke that lost something in translation.

As the other's were laughing, Natalie allowed herself a small smile. This was a joke for Klingon's and Nat was not one. She wasn't going to pretend to understand the subtext. But neither was she going to let them get derailed. This next part wasn't going to be fun, she decided.

"Well, there are few things I love more than a family reunion," she said with a touch of dry sarcasm in her voice, that got a snort out of Qo'rd, but more importantly served to draw the attention of the man behind the desk back to her. Making sure the mutton-chopped Klingon was focused where she wanted him to be, she continued. "Through all the light years that could have separated them they've found each other. I'm sure its heartwarming. But it won't keep me as warm as a restocked Deuterium tank would, Administrator. Which is something that I and my Captain very much enjoy having. Hence our meeting here. If you boys can behave long enough," she flashed a winning smile at Khorin and Gorka, "I'd like to get to the heart of the matter.

"Where's our delayed deuterium, Administrator M'Kish?" she asked, with none of the usual 'thank you for agreeing to see us' Starfleet preamble. She hoped he couldn't smell how nervous she was, as she added, "And what can we do to help get things back on track?"

Re: Day 05 [1000 hrs.] bISolnISbe'taHmeH yIyep ma'rIch Ides

Reply #9 –
[ Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai|  Office of Administrator M'Kish | Dockyard Administration Complex | Aldea System
[Show/Hide]
@Brutus

M'kish stared at Stark for a very long time, his face undauted and one of his hands rubbing his bare chin. Behind him, Gorka was occupied scanning the screen of a Klingon padd. However, there was somewhat in his posture, something in the corner of his blatantly disrespectful smirk. An indication that having imposed verbally upon Khorin reflected nothing but the natural order of things: the Klingons at the table, were the unofficial lords and owners of the area. In front of them, the starfleeters were nothing more than mere beggars, an unnecessary and fraudulent obligation imposed by a higher power, albeit a useless cause. Qo'rd, in the center, was nothing more than a grunt, a weapon ready to be used at will and disposed of once it became useless. Or to hang it on the wall next to the rest of the trophies, in an honorable but sterile position. Something stirred in Khorin's stomach as he became aware of the fact, something that mixed with the offense he had disguised but not forgotten, as his bruised pride still made him clench his fists tightly against his sides.

"Miss Stark" the administrator finally uttered, his deep voice barely above a murmur. Khorin's nostrils widened, it was a blatant disrespect, a display that the guests were not important enough to be worthy to raise his voice. The pilot glanced sidelong at the second officer and, finding her focused on M'kish's words, refrained from commenting on the matter. Nevertheless, his thick eyebrows dropped deeply over his eyes, darkening his gaze. "As you well know resource mining isn't the Empire's primary purpose in this system, but to safeguard our allies, the Aldeans," he added with a mellow voice of someone with a long career in politics. "However, the latest Chancellor's decisions, the pursuit of a vain revenge, have reduced our workforce, which has led to an increase in the number of raiders' attacks on...". The administrator paused his speech for a second and waved his hand slightly. Gorka took the opportunity to speak and began a detailed report of the activities of the Orion Syndicate and other pirate organizations that prowled the system. As the deep voice of Margon's firstborn was relating the assaults in a dull tone, detailing the number of contenders, damage suffered by both adversaries, lives and/or ships lost as well as supplies stolen, a holographic image of the system appeared over the table. It displayed with red dots the exact locations of the encounters. As expected, most of the raids focused around Aldea, as well as on the routes between the planet and the deuterium mines. It seemed that the pirates had been especially active around Deara and Zevae, the planets closest to the Aldean Homeworld, but the strikes seemed to be occurring throughout the whole system, in a quantity and frequency that would exceed even an organized army. The diminishing klingon army in Epsilon Minos had little to do against such a plethora of criminals.

"Most of the forces have been committed to the protection of Aldean space, as well as the mining complex in Ekasi and the main routes between both." Gorka elaborated, while the protected routes were highlighted in bright green in the hologram.

"And around sector 47" snarled M'Kish as he nodded in agreement. For the very first time, Gorka raised the eyes from the padd and glanced at his superior, while a shadow crossed his face. Khorin's eyes moved quickly through the hologram after that, looking for why his half-brother has been so annoyed at the mention of the sector. The aforementioned area seemed to be an empty zone that contained Epsilon Mynos VII, Telea. As much as the pilot searched for something of interest in the hologram he found naught. In fact the pirates, who seemed so active throughout the system, had methodically avoided the area. There were also no marked routes around the planet. No factories, or stations or... anyhing. There were nothing at all, only the yelloish gas giant, orbiting patiently around the distant star. It appeared to be an empty spot with no interest in the middle of space. The sector seemed so uninteresting and unremarkable that it was evident that there was SOMETHING extremely important there. Something that was not aimed to the common knowledge, Khorin pondered as he folded his arms over his broad chest and scratched his bristly beard.

“... And sector 47" repeated Gorka reluctantly, before he proceeded with the report again. "Currently all the mined deuterium is destined for the escort ships and patrols, with an extra for the scouts who map the outer sectors of the system in search of the pirate bases." New purple routes were drawn on the map, creating a huge mosaic that was far from covering all possible points from which the pirates could be hidding.

"As you can see, the resources you're receiving are extremely generous considering the situation we're involved in." M'Kish said then, his sibilant whisper more mellow than ever. "You should be grateful for what you have, girl."

[Show/Hide]

Re: Day 05 [1000 hrs.] bISolnISbe'taHmeH yIyep ma'rIch Ides

Reply #10 –
[Lt. Cmdr. Natalie Stark | Office of Administrator M'Kish | Dockyard Administration Complex | Aldea System ]Attn: @Numen 
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She had been forthright, but not overtly rude. No pandering to the more diplomatic forms that so often annoyed Klingon warriors and (she assumed) Administrators, but at the same time, no outright affront to their honor that would have required them to gut her where she stood. Thus, she assumed that the two men would grant her the same blunt, if not impolite attitude in return. Never minding whatever blood, good or bad, existed between Gorka and his brother, Lt. Douglas.

This assumption, as with so many such things, seemed to be in error.

It wasn't the long stare, and the silence that dropped into the room after Stark asked her question that really bothered the Ops Chief. that was a tactic she'd used herself in the past, on subordinates, and Administrator M'Kish just didn't pull the same kind of reverence that Natalie had for someone like Captain Ives. Ergo the effect fell short, regardless of what power dynamic the older man felt existed between himself and the Martian woman from Starfleet, dressed in the local garb of the people that his race protected. And as focused as she was on holding the other mans gaze, she had little time to spare for glances at the slightly smirking Gorka, or the increasingly  tense Khorin. Of all the gathered lot, only Qo'rd seemed unperturbed by the situation unfolding.

'Miss' was the first clue, however. She had expected 'commander' or even 'lieutenant', though the latter was something of a slight in its own right. Simply 'Miss' was a rather more obvious one. An officer in command of her might use Miss while directing a task or seeking input, though as likely as not they would use her rank. Filing that dig away, Natalie nodded in understanding to the rest of what M'Kish was actually saying. She even found herself agreeing with the categorization of Chancellor Martok's grief fueled assault on the Theurgy, though she quietly pointed out, "Those same warriors also fought valiantly against a foe to all our peoples," getting her words in as Gorka gathered himself.

Martok's thirst for revenge was baseless. His handling of the Borg in the Azure nebula was the thing of which Legends of the Klingon Empire were made and sung of.

For all his issues with Khorin, and there had to be a wealth of those, Natalie knew, the tall Klingon man seemed competent in his job. She crossed her arms again, cocking a hip to one side, and let her eyes track across the hologram hanging in the air before them. She utterly missed the subtle nod of approval from Qo'rd, as her focus was entirely on the issue at hand. Well, this far out, we knew the Syndicate might be in play. Her frown deepened as a dark thought tugged at the back of her mind. It wasn't the kind of thing that Natalie wanted to think, and certainly not of a fellow officer in StarFleet, however....Dr. Kobol  did suggest potentially reaching out to the Syndicate to get our hands on medical tech and upgrades, should the Aldean variety either not quite measure up, or not be offered at all.

And here we have Orion Pirates attacking facilities in Aldean space, under the protection of the Klingon Defense Force. Our KDF Friends must be furious indeed. Curious that Gorka seems so dispassionate about this. The numbers they were seeing was such an organized force that the Theurgy's Second Officer was frankly astonished they had not run into the raiders her at the yard. From where she stood, it seemed like the Syndicate had the run of the system. That cold calculation was not what she normally associated with a Klingon warrior, and yet Gorka was stiff and almost uncaring in his discourse. Perhaps service in the civilian sector has tempered his...spirit. Natalie didn't know Klingon's that well, but she rather doubted that Gorka would appreciate her sudden characterization.

Uh-oh, he didn't like that at all.

If she were any judge of character, whatever was going on in Sector 47 was not something that the younger Klingon wanted to draw attention to. His superior didn't seem nearly as reluctant as Gorka, and at this, Natalie finally spared a glance back at Khorin. His face was furrowed in confusion, and so Natalie turned toward the hologram once again, hands behind her back now, and leaned forward. Like the Klingon behind her, she couldn't see much of anything useful in the area. None of the major lost ship reports came from that sector, and she found it curious not only that M'Kish had brought it to their attention, but that Gorka was upset. In short however, there was little she could do about that now. Once she got back to the ship, that might be another matter entirely.

Straightening back up, Natalie was just about to offer her services in setting up a wider patrol net, augmented by officers from the Theurgy. Captain Ives was off ship at the moment but she had little doubt that Commander Ducote would undercut her efforts here. M'Kish however, cut her off before she could speak, instead choosing to summarize the situation for the human woman. And this time there was no ignoring the insult tossed casually at her as the man hissed his words.

"I'm sorry, Administrator," she began, not entirely sure of her course, and frankly, sure she was about to stick her foot in her mouth. "I couldn't quite hear you. Is there something wrong with your voice? I could call my ships doctor over to come and attend to what ails you. It sounds like somethings lodged there keeping you from speaking up, and I can only imagine that an illness is the cause for what sounded like whispered insults from such an honorable man as yourself."

There, suck on that, bastard. Perhaps it was unwise to rise to that bait, but then, she doubted a Klingon woman would have left him unmarred. Probably the time to deliver a good blow to that weak chin of his, but Natalie wasn't exactly great in an unarmed fight. Flashbacks of the Niga incident, where her hand to hand combat training had proven itself woefully inadequate threatened to surface, but Natalie stomped down on that particular trauma with both feet. It'd come back later, when she was alone, but she had no time for it now. Instead she turned to Gorka, letting her gaze settle on him.

"Have these files sent over to me on the Theurgy," she stated. Not asked, no please would you. Just do it. "And I will have my team review them. We will then send the both of you," a glance at M'Kish, "An updated flight plan for assisting the honorable KDF forces currently tasked with tracking down these...persistent pirates that are plaguing your system."

Standing up straighter, Natalie tried to pretend she was dressing down a Cadet review. Or Nator. Nator always made for a good focus for her ire (as grateful as Natalie was to have the Hermat as one of her Assistant Ops Chiefs, and that s'he had not died, despite hir best efforts). There was a ghost of a smile on her face that was likely as not inappropriate, but it teased one out of Qo'rd, whom remained off to the side, unnoticed by his 'betters', but not by Natalie. That sergeant is probably the most capable Klingon in this room.

"It is not lost on us that we aboard the Theurgy are guests in your system, and of your...hospitality, along with the Aldean's whom call this sector home. We are quite grateful for the generosity of our hosts, and far be it from us to suggest otherwise. Had this information been communicated when a schedule was first agreed upon, we would have likely adjusted the plan accordingly. As it was not, we did not have the information to take into account, simply numbers of what we were told to expect, and then a few days in a row of those numbers not matching expectations. No matter. That is the past.

"The Orion Syndicate is making a nuisance of itself, and you are understaffed to deal with the full extent." She carefully did not say 'unable'. "Supporting operations in this sector while we were guests was a condition we happily agreed to when we made orbit and docked in  your yards. Now that I have a better picture of the problem at hand, I can assure you we will work right alongside your worries to deal with your....pest infestation, Administrator." This was about as close as Natalie had ever come to telling someone in so many words , to kiss her ass. She just hoped that she - and Ducote, and Ravon - could come up with a solution to the issue on hand. She had no doubt that a lot of what was about to come would fall onto the shoulders of the Lone Wolves, like the junior Lt. Douglas, still standing tall and silent at her side.

Re: Day 05 [1000 hrs.] bISolnISbe'taHmeH yIyep ma'rIch Ides

Reply #11 –
[ Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai|  Office of Administrator M'Kish | Dockyard Administration Complex | Aldea System
[Show/Hide]
@Brutus 

For a brief instant, when M'Kish made obvious even to human ears the contempt he felt towards Starfleeters, Khorin got ready to leap forward and rip the Administrator's head. He was just fed up of the offenses and insults that distilled from the Administrator and his aidee demeanour. Of the scornful smirk of Gorka's lips. However, he had no time to realize his desire, as Stark took the floor again and twisted M' Kish's lack of enthusiasm into a disease symptom. The young pilot glanced at the petite second officer with renewed admiration. You needed to be really firm in your conviction to insult a Klingon by calling him weak and unhealthy in his own field. Khorin chuckled at such a display of audacity and brazenness. Stark really was more than meets the eye.

Pulling his long mane from his eyes, the Lone Wolf stared again at the large table that presided over the room. Both Klingons behind it remained mute as they bored the Theurgy Second Officer. The Administrator fumed, his tiny swine eyes unable to hide the anger that was bubbling within him. On the other hand, Gorka's expression had barely altered, the everlasting smirk that the scar forced on his lips was still there, but otherwise his face remained undisturbed, with an almost bored expression. But Khorin knew him very well, far too well. Gorka was furious. His eyes had grown murderously dark. A glance that Khorin knew too well, but, in this occasion, he had no idea whether he was addressing it, to Stark or to M'Kish. His pride over the bold retort of the Ops. Officer became into a concern. He doubted that either of them would act prematurely, not when the Chancellor had sealed an alliance with the Theurgy crew. But Stark had earned at least a mighty enemy. Or, perhaps, two of them.

In Khorin's eyes, Stark apparently ignored this point and turned to Gorka, requesting all the reports they had been shown to study them aboard the dreadnought. Margon's firstborn swung to the voluptuous woman and nodded briefly.
" You' ll get a detailed memo soon, , Sogh la'“  He confirmed succinctly, in the same near-to-bored tone he had used earlier. "Sogh la'" thought Khorin as a crooked grin spread over his face. "That must have stung you, eh Big Bro? It still bothers you when you should show respect to a Hab QuchDu'?". As much as it would entertain him to engage with Stark in a curse warfare against the other two Klingon males, that wasn't the point of that meeting. And he had to keep in mind that the Theurgy's alliance with the Empire was still very young and fragile. So he repressed his desire to squeeze out a caustic joke. What he failed to avoid, however, was shoving his thumbs into the belt of his KDF uniform and puffing up his chest with pride. So much so that the fabric wailed at the seams.

"Indeed, indeed, the pertinent reports will be delivered, as it may be appropriate. The Chancellor could have signed an alliance with your crew, but not all Klingons in this system agree with that decision, let alone the Great Houses at Homeworld. This causes all these... procedures... to be somewhat slowed down," M'Kish said shortly afterwards, his voice being somewhat louder than it had been so far. In Khorin's ears that sounded like a confirmation that the collaboration between the Administration and the Theurgy would be turbulent to say the least. And that whatever reports were sent to Stark, they would be mangled to just reveal what M'Kish intended that they should know. As the pilot reflected on this, the Administrator made a pause, as if he were choosing the right words before delivering them, something that didn't seem to be part of his most remarkable talents. "And worry not about my health, Miss, I assure you that it is and will be as good or better than yours..." he added eventually with a sort of snarl, his lips curled around the corners, showing a full display of sharp teeth. Douglas pressed his own lips in a thin line, not pleased at all with the threat that was barely hide behind those few words.

"I want to receive an action plan as well as some basic profiles of the staff who will collaborate with us as soon as possible, Sogh la'" Gorka hastened to interrupt the tense silence that began to thicken in the office, diverting the conversation in a diplomatic way towards less touchy subjects. "Of course I shall share the same data about our warriors, as soon as I can do it," he stated immediately afterwards. A smart gambit, ensuring collaboration with the Starfleeters but without undermining M'Kish's authority. Gorka had always been sly, at least since he overcame his Jak'tahla. But it seemed that since the last time Khorin had seen his brother, he had improved in both subtlety and finesse. A dangerous combination combo in someone like Gorka.

Just then the pilot leaned over towards Stark, ready to make her aware of this point. His opinion about his half brother was obviously biased, but it was time to make her notice all the alarms that had rang in his mind. However, he had no time to speak his mind.

It was just an instinctive motion.

A glint almost imperceptible in the corner of his eye.

A swift hiss of air cut by a well-balanced steel.

Khorin moved with no thought, and he placed his massive body between the table and the Lieutenant Commander.

All took place in barely a second but, as Khorin looked down, the pommel of a D'k tahg garnished his torso while the blade had disappeared deep into his body. Precisely where Stark's neck had been placed just barely seconds before. The pilot handled the grip until he manage to close the secondary blades and removed the weapon from his flesh.  Immediately, blood began to flow from the wound, soaking into the armour. It was painful, but Khorin made no display of this. Not now, he couldn't afford it. He studied the weapon for a brief moment and then moved his gaze to the other three men in the room. None seemed to have moved. Everyone's hands were where he remembered they were prior the sudden attack. If it were not for the piercing pain that began to numb his chest and the blood that ran through his fingers, he would have sworn it had been a bad trick of his mind. A mere fantasy. It had not, however, so with slow, measured steps, Khorin approached the table and placed the crestless weapon on its surface. He leaned against the desk, so that his fingers left red stains on its polished surface and stared closely at M'Kish, Gorka and Qo'rd. His inspection, however, gave him no new information, so Khorin was unable to guess who had perpetrated such treachery.

"I think someone have lost this," he growled, showing his teeth as he pushed the blade to the center of the table. The dagger left a bloody trail on the surface, while the blood was still pooling in Khorin's clothes. "Indeed loQ loDnI', what an unfortunate accident," answered Gorka, looking into his eyes without batting an eyelid. "Qo'rd, make sure this doesn't... happen again soon" he ordered to the grizzled Klingon, still gazing at the pilot.


OOC:

Sogh la' → Lieutenant Commander
Hab QuchDu' → smooth forehead
Jak'tahla →  a phase in a Klingon's maturation roughly analogous to puberty, though according to Jean-Luc Picard that word "hardly does it justice"
loQ loDnI' → little brother

Re: Day 05 [1000 hrs.] bISolnISbe'taHmeH yIyep ma'rIch Ides

Reply #12 –
[Lt. Cmdr. Natalie Stark | Office of Administrator M'Kish | Dockyard Administration Complex | Aldea System ]Attn: @Numen 
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Natalie was fairly certain that some of her words had hit home. Gotten under the skin of the bare chinned man before her at the table. Kill them with kindness someone had once told her, and thus she did her best, sharpening her knives by recommitting her ships forces to assisting with the troublemakers plaguing the system they were currently hiding in. If that offer had a few barbs in it, well, the offer was baited well enough that M'kish had little choice but to swallow the hook, barbs and all.

Perhaps it was beneath her, as a Starfleet Officer, but the human took a small measure of pride in having 'gotten his goat,' as the old phrase went. She could almost feel some of the tension bleeding away from Khorin Douglas, standing next to her. He'd gone ridged at one point, but then eased back into a ready stance. He think's I scored a point. I just hope that point doesn't cost me too much later on. In truth, she didn't quite realize how nasty a jab she'd landed on M'Kish, nor did she know that the fighter pilot next to her was quite sure she'd earned herself an enemy with a hefty amount of personal anonymity toward the native of Mars.

Gorka was another matter entirely. Her words didn't seem to much phase the younger of the three Klingon's nearly so much as the bare chinned one. Or the quietly amused Qo'rd. No, the so called 'aid' seemed quite in his element. The murder that Khorin saw in his half-brother's eyes was not so readily apparent the to the rooms sole human.

The towering Klingon met Stark's gaze and held it, and for a brief moment, Natalie felt as if she were being appraised, and perhaps found not so wanting as before. Not that she could really analyze that, for M'Kish spoke again, drawing her attention back to his broad desk and narrow frame. He began to explain that he would comply, but that things might be slow. Big Trouble on Little Q'onoS she thought, and very briefly wished she had brought along someone with actual, proper diplomatic training. Lt. Cmdr. Jennifer Dewitt was supposed to represent the Theurgy as a Liason to the local government, but she had been busy elsewhere. As had the ships actual acreddited diplomat, the young Betazoid, Ensign Eloi-Danvers. The lithe girl had actually been stationed at Khitomer, if Natalie remembered her service record properly. 

But no, she had been otherwise occupied. And more to the point, both Natalie and Commander Ducote felt that this particular issue fell under the auspices of Operations.

"One thing my father taught me long, long ago, was to avoid politics at all costs. 'It's much easier to get things done, child, if you don't have a politician breathing down your back.'" She did a fair approximation of Chief Starks' gruff voice, and the words brought a longing to her that colored her expression slightly. "I can only imagine that this applies all the more so in Klingon Politics. I do hope the Chancellor, in making his honorable bargain with my ship, has not had to cut too many heads off the shoulders of the members of the High Council."

Of course, if Martok had needed to get physically brutal to get the point across, she supposed that left room for others to move up in standing. Thank God the Federation Council doesn't have to put up with that. I'd hate to see President Bacco have to wade out to deal with a particularly prickly Tellarite at sword point. She paused in her thoughts, and then despite the seriousness of the situation, actually smiled. Okay, I take that back. I'd love to see that.

"Since I'm in surprisingly good health these days," she continued, being quite genuine now (by rights she aught to be dead about 4 times over), "I am most gratified to hear that, Administrator." Again, the threat there went over her head. More than one, in fact, as Gorka drew her attention. 

"I can certainl--" was as far as the young woman got in her response to the Klingon aide-de-camp. Sharing profiles of whom would be assigned to the patrol routes only made sense, the better to match and pair skill sets. It was banal, really, these thoughts, as her mind processed what was happening around her. She stumbled back, and looked up at the armored flank of Lt. Douglas. He stood now between her, and the table, as well as his half brother. 

Beside her, Qo'rd was snapping forward, all mirth gone from his face. "Dotlhmey," he exclaimed, as he moved to take the blade from the table. That there was a blade on the table, smeared with pinksh red blood, finally registered. The look on Natalie's face went from confusion, to shocked realization, to bold face anger. Heat rose in her skin, and her hand moved to the small of Khorin's back. He had been stabbed.

That blade had been meant for her. 

Her heart began to pound in her chest as the gorge rose in her stomach. All the jabs, the attempts at humor to deflect and defuse were gone. Those blue eyes snapped about the room, trying to find where the blade had come from. None of the men had moved when Khorin inserted himself into the line of fire. But the room  was too dark - the fire light, and the glow of the holoprojector, neither were sufficient to light all the corners of the office.

On the small of Khorin's back, Natalie's hand twitched, longing to find a weapon, to draw a hand phaser, to use it to hold the others at bay. This was a trap. They tried to kill me.

How much of that showed on her face, she didn't know. Aloud, she said quietly, "I think, perhaps it is best that you send a digital copy of that roster to me, Gorka," she called the man by his given name, omitting any title he might have a claim to. Qo'rd had the blade in hand now, and she glanced at him, then it, then up at M'Kish. Nothing. The mans face was like a stone. All of them were. The seriousness of what had just happened...

"And Sergeant. I think a small amendment to that last statement is required. Make sure it doesn't happen, ever again. We are allies," she spoke, praying the panic that lay just beneath the surface did not color her words. "But even allies are not likely to forgive such an accident twice." Her nostrils flared, and her heart thudded heavy with each word. The one hand that was visible was clenched in a white-knuckled fist; the other trembled against Khorin's back. 

All it would take is one word, just one, and I could have Ida here, or Lt. Kingston, with a fully armed security team. Just one little word...

"I believe the proper Klingon phrase is, 'HIja' ta''. The deed is done. Do not let it happen again." There was a certain finality to her words. She jerked her head back, toward the door. "We are leaving now. I'll send you that action plan. And you will send me a full report on this incident. I don't see any need for this to go further than that." Translation: Cross me like this again and I'll run it right up to your Chancellor, and we'll see just whose head rolls.



Dotlhmey = At once.

HIja' ta = the deed is done.

Re: Day 05 [1000 hrs.] bISolnISbe'taHmeH yIyep ma'rIch Ides

Reply #13 –

[ Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai|  Office of Administrator M'Kish | Dockyard Administration Complex | Aldea System
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@Brutus 

Khorin stood firm as Stark spoke, his face serious and his fists tightly clenched on his sides. He would not give them the satisfaction of exhibiting any hostility that could worsen the previous incident. He would not force the second officer to lose the ground she had reclaimed. He would not allow that Gorka would regard that attack, his or not, as a small victory, revealing the pain that radiated from the wound. There would be time for that later, in their own starship. But Khorin would not forget that betrayal so easily. And from what her words proved, neither would Stark.

So he remained there motionless, like a statue, while she spoke her mind. Despite the firmness of her speech and her attitude, he could feel her hand trembling on his lowest back. That fact only reinforced his decision to end that ill-fated meeting with strength and resilience. They were Starfleet. They were not scared by a performance of treacherous brutality. For a teenager's bravado. For the time being, they had to cooperate, but Khorin would make them pay for all of that. To at least one of those present, he thought as his eyes shifted to his brother's eyes. Gorka, however, had his attention focused elsewhere, and he stared at the only human in the room, his calculating gaze overshadowed in an expression that Khorin was unable to unravel. All he knew was that he did not like it. As he did not like anything that revolved around his brother. Khorin had hoped that Margon's first-born had improved in some way, in the years they had been separated. The pilot couldn't be more mistaken.

" You' ll receive the requested data as well as all the extra information we have to your ship's Vector One," Gorka assured in the same professional tone he had used before the event, almost as if nothing unusual had happened. "Likewise I will provide you with direct contact to my desk, in order that you may contact me for any reason you..." He couldn't finish his sentence, as the man in the main chair interrupted him. "Miss Stark, you and your well-trained targ can leave now," M'Kish dismissed them thereafter, their hairless face distorted by a smile that showed no humour. "Oh, before I forget aboutit: I swear by my honour that any... 'accident' like this won't happen again." Khorin's back tensed under Stark's fingers as he heard those words. That statement could be read in several ways, and Khorin was more than aware of the little veiled threat it carried. If a circumstance like the current one were to happen again, the assassin would not fail. That or really the Administrator was aware of the gravity of what had just happened, so any subsequent attempt would be more subtle. "After all, we are allies, aren't we?" M'Kish added as that ugly smirk widened on his face. Khorin's mouth corners curved in reply, his teeth flashing like a dog ready to engage in a fight.

However, before the situation escalated further, Stark moved toward the door. Qo'rd stepped between the table and the pilot, looking the young Klingon right in the eye. Khorin took the hint and turned in return. Thus the three left the office in silence. Just before the door closed behind the old Klingon, Khorin thought he heard Gorka speaking once more, but the metallic sound and Qo'rd's stare prevented him from any further prying.

Only then, the pilot allowed himself to lead a hand to his fresh wound. It ached. And as far as he could explore it, it was deep, but clean. "Fucking Gorka" he snarled to himself as he ceased to fumble into his injury. As he glanced at his hand he found it covered in blood. He was going to need a small patch for that leak, he thought as he dragged his feet behind Stark. In his chest grew a hoarse sound, a guttural grunt that he was unable to silence. And the pilot was unsure if it was due pain, frustration, or rage.

"Commander" he grabbed the woman's attention as he rushed his strides to reach her. This made him twist his gesture a little, but he endeavoured to accommodate his trademarked side-way grin in his face in spite of everything as soon as he was able to reach her. "You have done a very good job." He reassured her while he patted her shoulder. Before he could stop, he had left a bloody stain on her brown and orange robes. "That they risked themselves to do... that.... Well, they were really bloody pissed, they had not expected that you would stand so firm. Well done Commander" he kept soothing her while he tried unsuccessfully to get rid of the blotch on her Aldean suit. Finally, he gave up, and put his rough hand back on her shoulder, in the most comforting way he was able. "Those two bIHnuch will surelywork their butts off so you can forget about all this as soon as possible, Commander" he confided to her with a teeth-filled smile.

"Commander?" an unknown voice asked from the opposite end of the corridor. There stood a grey-haired humanoid, dressed in the elaborate garments of the system's natives. "Are you from Starfleet?" asked the man another time. He had the proper dignity of leadership all around him. In the way he stand, and in the way he spoke. Something which made the pilot stand firm again and step back again, back into his bodyguard position. "Excuse my interference, sir, and let me introduce myself. I'm the First Appointee Radue."



OOC:
bIHnuch → Coward(s)

Re: Day 05 [1000 hrs.] bISolnISbe'taHmeH yIyep ma'rIch Ides

Reply #14 –
[Lt. Cmdr. Natalie Stark | Office of Administrator M'Kish | Dockyard Administration Complex | Aldea System ]Attn: @Numen 
[Show/Hide]

Mars was a cold world. Not as cold as it had been centuries before, during the beginning of the terraforming efforts. When all cities were domes. When walking on the surface required a space suit, or later, a coat so heavy as to be too warm for Andoria. A cold world bred a hearty people. A strong people. Even those like Natalie, whom most would look at and call timid, had something of that Martian ice flowing in their veins. This, she assumed, was the only reason her face hadn't gone pale as ice, and her trembling - a mix of anger and fear - lay focused in one point only. 

The small of Khorin's back.

Even that galled her, some what. She was a Lieutenant Commander in Starfleet. She was trained. She lead a department of officers whom all looked up to her. She was third in line in the chain of command for a Multi-Vector Dreadnought, one of the most powerful starships in the known galaxy. She had commanded hundreds in a crisis. And she'd come so close to death just now that she could not stop the shake in her hand.

But injured or not, Khorin remained stoic in the front of the other three Klingon's, so Natalie could not allow more of her anger to show. Not now. She was going to have a long talk with Ducote and Dewitt after this. Probably bring in that El-Aurian representing the Chancellor as well, and to hell with her implication about not raising this up the chain. She wasn't going to just abide this kind of attack.

One official interrupted the other, and Nat felt a ghost of a smile tug at her angry mien. Neither of these men were the kind she would like to work with, but it appeared, at least superficially, that neither particularly liked to work with each other. Not a tactical officer by nature, Natalie was still somewhat observant, and decided that could be of use. "A direct line will be established, yes." she addressed Gorka, despite his being cut off by the Administrator's rather rude dismissal. 

To M'Kish, she nodded stiffly. "I shall hold you to that, honored Administrator."See, I can be just as politely nasty, you withering old snake. It was not a kind thought. It was not a very Starfleet thought either, and Natalie felt a small spark of remorse that the words had crossed her mind, if not her lips. Jien Ives had lamented the way that some of the crew had been slipping, in a private moment shared between the two in hir Ready Room. An admonishment as much as an encouragement and effort to instruct. Well...even the Captain might have had some choice words there. If they didn't reach across the desk and snap M'Kish's neck. Klingon Diplomacy.

Leaving now, before she could say something stupid, was the smart move, and she turned o her heel, tucking her still trembling hand into the elaborate folds of the garb she'd replicated, not fully appreciating the style until that moment. "Come, Lieutenant. We've other matters to deal with." She affected a bored tone, though she was anything but. How long until the shakes take over my whole body? The tubrolift? Please, let me just make it to my quarters.

Missing the brief confrontation with Qo'rd, she strode out of the room and turned sharply down the hallway, intending to head back to the transporter room with all due haste, and to hell with being polite about it. The only reason she didn't take off at a run was because she knew she'd fall face first, tripping over the robes she wore.

Natalie was caught up in her efforts to get them off the dockyard in one piece. While she doubted that M'Kish, or Gorka (or Qo'rd, though she doubted that too) would make a second attempt, every corner now held a threat. Her body was riddled with tension, though she forced her back to stay up straight and now bow as if she were cowering away from an unseen blow. Thus, she missed what Khorin said about his brother, but could not miss him entreating her by rank.

Slowing, she turned to look back at the Lone Wolf has he closed the distance and fell in, speaking rapidly, though, she judged, not without discomfort. A hand came down and she felt the heavy weight, in the junior officers attempt to reassure her. She blinked in surprise.  The blood now on her shirt spoke far better to the 'job' she had done than anything she could say, though none of what came to mind was kind to her. Khorin, despite some of the liberties he took, was well meaning, and had been stabbed in her stead so she was going to cut him a mountain of slack right then.

"While I appreciate your insight and your...timely intervention, I seriously doubt I will 'forget all this' ever, Lieutenant. I don't take kindly to my subordinates getting stabbed. Rude doesn't even begin to color it and if there were any justice in the world those two would already be in a brig." Never mind how I take to nearly being murdered in cold blood, she didn't add. Nor did she care about the fact that Qo'rd was right there, following along. Let him report back to the others that she thought them at the very least, criminally negligent. "I truly am sorry you had to grow up living with a bitter man for your brother," she noted, quite genuinely. "Competent though he may be. Regardless. What is important now is getting you back to Si-" The unfamiliar voice cut her off, and the two Starfleet officers turned (along with their escort) to look at the older man that had summoned her attention, having heard her rank, she supposed. She bore no markings to discern her as Federation, after all.

She opened her mouth to protest - even if this was the Klingon run dockyards appearances needed to be maintained - but stopped, as the familiar face clicked into place, along side his words. [color=yellow"First Appointee,"[/color] Natalie managed as much respect as she could while thinking, I do not have time for this right now. She really did want to get the hell out of this wing of the complex, and not just because Khorin was still bleeding from his wound. 

Bowing slightly - she really didn't know the protocol here - she stood up a bit and took a cautious step forward. "You are correct. I am Lieutenant Commander Natalie Stark," she introduced, adding, "Second officer of the Theurgy. Lt. Khorin is my escort. What...may we do for you?" What else could she say?

Re: Day 05 [1000 hrs.] bISolnISbe'taHmeH yIyep ma'rIch Ides

Reply #15 –

[ Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai|  Office of Administrator M'Kish | Dockyard Administration Complex | Aldea System
[Show/Hide]
@Brutus 

When Commander Stark thanked him for his service, Khorin nodded with a deep growl, a pleased sound that echoed deep within his broad chest. Then when the human woman pointed out that she was not pleased with her subordinates being stabbed, Khorin cut the sound and simply shrugged. " Receiving a dagger wound here and there is something that happens with surprising assiduity when you are a Klingon," he confirmed without giving importance to the matter. Even his voice hinted that he was... proud of the situation. As if he had received a medal instead of a cut in his guts. "Besides, if it was my brother's thing... well, he's done worse things to me in the past. He'd better learn new tricks." He rumbled with jocular tone. Although his mocking words, his gesture twisted slightly and the good mood failed to reach his eyes. Khorin was uncertain whether the dagger that had pierced his skin had belonged to his brother. It seemed somewhat crude, something unbecoming of Gorka, the more Khorin ruminated on the matter. His half-brother had no qualms about murdering others, not even of his own blood, and the former hybrid had been his target more than once, from his earliest childhood. However, Gorka used to choose scenarios in which he had more to gain than to lose, his mind thought longer-term than Khorin's, he saw a broader perspective than the pilot. And that was a concern for Khorin. If he had thrown the dagger, he felt safe and untouchable. Strong in his position. Which was worrisome, to say the least.

Khorin rested his hand unconsciously on the newly opened wound. The sheer brushing caused a sharp jab of pain that brought him back to reality. So did the blood that soaked his fingers again as soon as he compressed the injury, trying to stop the bleeding.Oh Khaless, Zephyr wasn't going to like NOTHING all that meeting. However, he strove to bark a laugh when Stark lamented that he had grown up with someone like his half-brother. "Oh well, every family has an odd duck. Mine's got a full flock," he confirmed with a chuckle. But he had little time to say anything else, as an unfamiliar man interrupted their talk.

Khorin's first impulse was to step forward to interpose between the stranger and the one he was supposed to defend. In spite of his raised chin and puffed chest he knew that he did not offer the most intimidating image that he could portray, with his right hand resting on his blood-soaked stomach. Q'Ord patted his shoulder " Stop, young targ" he teased as he pulled gently on his shoulder to let the man introduce himself. Khorin struggled briefly against the grizzled Klingon, until the newcommer introduced himself. The leader of the Planet. Finally, Khorin relaxed under Q'ord's paw. He and the old Klingon lingered a few steps behind, permitting that Stark and Radue could enjoy the maximum intimacy and discretion they could offer them without missing them from sight. For their part, the Klingons began an idle conversation in their native language. Shouts and laughter that would cover what the First Appointee and the Liutentant Commander had to say. Still in spite of... all things, Khorin cannot deny that the old Klingon was a agreeable companion. Except when one of his jokes was a punch just above the wound, which Khorin answered with a left hook to the old Klingon's cheekbone. After that brief exchange they halted, glaring at each other for a few seconds, as the distance between them and the superior officers increased. Finally they both burst out in thunderous laughter and resumed their pace. As if nothing had happened.

Meanwhile, Radue placed himself next to Stark. "Do you mind if I join you? I didn't think I would meet you in flesh and bone, it has been a delightful coincidence," he said in a casual tone, the smile of his lips typical of a politician accustomed to holding party conferences and appearing in the holonews kissing babies. "I hope you are enjoying your stay in our system so far, you have arrived at a lovely time of the year, the beaches at the west end of Ibai Besi estuary are a delight to the eyes, you should visit them as soon as posible.  Have you been in the city?" he asked as they both strode down the corridor in the direction of the transporter room. "I recommend you rent one of our seaside villas if you can afford the luxury of a couple of days on the surface... or a walk on the promenade near the University at sunset, it won't disappoint you either." The chitchat followed that trivial, superficial line until they reached the transporter room. Mere platitudes aimed at having the senior officers spend more time on the ground. Once they reached the lintel of the room, Radue bowed briefly in front of her, holding her hands. He took advantage of this moment to slide a small device into Stark's wide sleeve, which he pressed against the hidden palm of her hand. "I hope to see you soon," he said with a big grin, before he left with his escort.
 

Re: Day 05 [1000 hrs.] bISolnISbe'taHmeH yIyep ma'rIch Ides

Reply #16 –
[Lt. Cmdr. Natalie Stark | Office of Administrator M'Kish | Dockyard Administration Complex | Aldea System ]Attn:
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Khorins Klingon bravado aside, Natalie was shaking inside with rage, and the cold realization that she could very easily be dead at the hands of an unseen assassin. Being culturally accepted and even expected did little to satisfy the human woman, raised in the safety of a Federation Core system, far from the frontier colonies, where similar life experiences might have hardened her to the prospect. No amount of Starfleet training could really help one adjust to the martial aspect of Klingon Warrior Culture. Only through hands on experience and interaction could one truly come to appreciate it, if not accept and anticipate it.

The fact that Qo'rd at least seemed to be on the level was a small happy note, but only a small one, as either of  the other men in the room could have been the reason her escort now had a knife in him. She was going to have to make a report of this to Ducote, and though she was less than inclined to like it, she was going to have to reach out to Lt. Trent and see what he could gather on M'Kish and Gorka, outside of the information that Khorin could bring to bear about his relation.

There was no doubt in her mind, as it raced to calm down, that this would not be the last time she had to come to the administration wing of the dockyard. Nor deal with M'Kish and Gorka.

For the moment however, Natalie had fallen in step with the current leader of the population of Aldea, and that was demanding her entire focus. She had no more time to spare thought to the assassination attempt though she wondered at how to broach the subject with the first appointee. Or if she even should raise it to the attention of the older man. Old enough to be her grandfather in any case, he spoke with a kindly tone, drawing a confused Lt. Commander Stark into the conversation.

No, she had not yet had a chance to take any leave on the planet. Yes, his world did look rather beautiful, all the more so for being a port in a very nasty storm.  Her duties had thus far kept her aboard the Theurgy, or in orbit at the dockyard complex, though yes, she had taken some time to use some of the recreational facilities in the dockyard itself, as a change of pace from camping in the ships Arboretum cafe while off duty. The change in food was a nice surprise, and she had already requested a few recipes be uploaded to the ship for later use.

"I'm afraid duty hasn't given me much time off save for meals and sleep at the moment. The Theurgy is a rather large ship and she needs much of my attention. Thea's a good girl, and she deserves the best care I can give," Stark had explained, adding, "I would like to take you up on that recommendation about a villa, however. There aren't all that many real beaches on Mars, where I grew up. Perhaps one some things settle down I can book a few days." The whole conversation was very odd, and Natalie couldn't fathom what the point of it was, even if she was quite interested in the idea of actual shore leave, in a villa, no less. The politician had dangled something quite shiny in front of her, and despite the seriousness of the situation, she'd reached out for the bauble.

Finally however they were in the transporter  room, the same klingon tech smirking at Khorin as he entered, and Qo'rd and he parted ways. The First Appointee grasped Stark's hand in a shake that almost had her pulling back - until she felt the small data chip pressed in. Her eyes flared for just a moment and then she forced herself to smile wide."I'm sure we will be speaking again soon, First Appointee. This has been a rare pleasure. And please, do send me that information about the villa. I would dearly love to see more of your world, and people."

What in the hell just happened?She asked herself as she and Khorin mounted the transporter creche, and she nodded. The sudden banal conversation and grandfatherly routine made sense now. Tapping her badge with one hand, the other hidden in her robes, she said with quiet eagerness, "Stark to Theurgy. We're coming back. Stand by to receive two for transport." she nodded sternly to the Klingon tech, ordering, "Energize"
 
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