The first encounter of Kul and Traise were seen in the Foundry Mission: “Distressed Calls” for the Federation Faction by @XR-377. These were the before times… if I find a video I may link it.
Roma Nova
Stardate: 89422.5
There was always the buzz of life in the atmosphere of the Staging Area. The constant movement, the sticky damp air, calls of distant animals, the heavy smell of sweat and dirt. Compared to the sterile hum of a starship it breathed of life and old fashioned dirty adventure. In these moments where John could stop, look around, and enjoy it… he reveled in it.
Behind him, through a thick crowd of movement politely passed his confidant and partner with her black hair done up in a workable pony tail that frayed in the heat along the way to her shoulder. There was something admirable that she was able to wear white, and a skirt, in this place and still have it look good. He looked back, leaned up off of the boxes he had been propped against and turned as she moved up to him and passed over the PADD clutched in her hand.
“The shipments are confirmed and you, as well as the crew, ship, and Task Force, have earned the official thanks of the Romulan Republic.”
Captain Traise finished flipping through the report, “Signed by D’Tan himself? Not bad, but considering he is signing everyone’s these days I suppose I should take the complement with a bit of humility.” He grinned.
“Doesn’t make it any less important, and you know it. Especially for the fleet.”
The grin never stopped as they started walking through the camp, “While I’m damn pleased we finally have an official embassy here, I’m oddly tempered by the fact it means they were able to slap me with an office.” He handed the PADD back, “Tell me, do you think it still counts as an office if I do my best to never actually be there?”
“You just can’t wait to get back to the Albion can you?” she scolded him like one plays with a child. “Giddy to see how she fairs after the servicing are we?”
“Heh, as much as I would like to keep playing scientist in the dirt nothing compares to soaring through the stars with your first true love.”
“You know, that would almost be romantic if I didn’t know you were talking about the ship.”
“Who said anything about a ship?” The parallel smiles as they walked side by side were shallow compared to the mutual enjoyment they allowed themselves with casual and corny flirting. “Although, I would be lying if I didn’t say I was looking forward to having the full crew back together again on one boat. I can’t believe I actually got accustomed to those big long hallways and that tiny city calling me Captain.”
“I sense it’s more than just camaraderie in your sentiment towards the D.”
“Eh,” he shrugged, “The Forerunner is fine. Excellent in fact. But I can’t say I am pleased with how long it took to debug those MACO engines. The Asynchronous Warp Field is damn fine now that we’ve got it working. And punch of that Heavy Graviton Beam, whoow, still gets me excited thinking about it.”
She didn’t say anything as she looked at him with knowing eyes, he had to finish the thought in its entirety when he finally brought himself to doing it.
“Aaah, the Albion is just… the best ship. She just fulfills every need I have as captain and more. Don’t get me wrong, the Forerunner is sleek as hell. And as much as I’m sad she is only here now because we lost the Farseer, we sure as hell refined the bugs out of her. The Forerunner is a fitting replacement.”
“So you did need to get her replaced?” A deep dark voice called out from their side. Traise knew it immediately and stopped, it took Ilana turning to look. The imposing form of a Klingon in full Honor Guard armor stood with bandoleers shining in the sun. “A shame you lost the ship, but she did put up quite the fight. It was a good death.”
“Kul vav ghajbe’…”
“Johnathon Traise.” He stepped forward to the pair, his smile cordially. To his side was the stern face of a shorter Klingon woman, her garb was far less formal but screamed of being more utilitarian than the standard Klingon uniform. “And you must be Ilana Sugun, we never had the chance to meet personally before.”
She glared over and up at him, black eyes defiant. “I can’t say I’m happy to rectify that.”
“Oh, a capable medical officer and feisty. A good choice in a mate. I approve.”
Traise’s eyes pierced.
“What? You didn’t expect me to go through all the work of stealing your personal logs and not spend time reading them? This is fortunate though, it allows me to introduce my mate, Lorthu. She too is an expert in medicine.”
The woman stepped forward and to the side, but kept her place behind her Captain. Both women mirrored each other in this position, they knew this was a conversation for Captains.
“What are you doing here, Kul?”
“Why the same thing as you, raising relations with the Romulan people. I am sure you see as I do the potential the Romulan Republic shows for the Galaxy.”
“Why, because they could be used to destabilize the Federation?”
“John, you should know better. You know you and I both see the same potential in these people and events. Stop trying to distance ourselves by claiming differences.” The Klingon was far more relaxed, and rolled his neck in a stretch while crossing his arms. “I had hoped to take advantage of Argo’s lack of interest in Mol’Rihan but it seems you worked fast and deprived me of that. Good work. In fact, we are both slated for the same award ceremony and banquet,” he tossed over a Romulan PADD proving his claim, “I look forward to the conversation.”
There was a pause as John ran through the different scenarios in his head. He could call him out on being an enemy of both the Federation and Task Force Argo but they both knew this was neutral middle ground and neither would throw the first punch. He could comment on the loss of his crew members a year and a half ago in their first conflict and remain stern but he knew the display would have no effect on Kul. The opposite, witty and clever banter, would simply be enjoyable to him… to them both. That was something John didn’t like. He could ask about what it was Kul was really after that day; his log, the virus base code laced in his computer banks, but knew he wouldn’t give the answer.
It was in that moment of silence that he realized Kul was standing there playing the same game in his head, but he had had first move. It was John’s turn.
“The Kargas Counter Attack.”
“Ah yes,” John could almost hear the words ‘good choice’ as a follow up. “I am sorry we didn’t get to speak more during that, but, at the time my duty was… to the greater cause.”
“It was never about Argo, was it? It was all about Riles.”
The Klingon grinned, betraying the right answer had been spoken, “While true it was Argo and their enemies that first lead me to Kargas, it was the position the Strike Force was in with Riles and Wrot’Ka that really… gave me momentum. Someone needed to step up and lead Kargas, the glory ended up being mine. As a matter of fact, with this whole ‘i-ssue’ involving your ‘Razor’ I’m surprised you haven’t stepped up to do the same? Still just a Master Captain are you?”
“This isn’t a contest.”
“Too bad, you won’t make this interesting.” Traise pulled out a cloth, wiped down the Klingon’s PADD of prints, and handed the thing back to the man. As he held it firm for a few seconds after the Klingon had hold there was another grin from the imposing alien betraying a countered plan. “Perhaps you still will. After all, I judge it was your own instincts that brought you here to act on New Romulus and incidentally thwarted my plans. The best kinds of rivals are natural ones.” He handed the PADD back to his woman and turned to walk away.
“Again, I look forward to our banquet Captain Traise. However, I do hope you dress up. Especially if I am to wear a cape to the event. Perhaps in one of those stunning white federation diplomatic coats?” There was a casual wave from the back of his hand as he confidently strode away.
Ilana looked over to Traise as he seethed, “What was it he said to you? That first time, in your ready room?”
There was this terrible sense of admiration that hung in the corners of his mouth when he spoke out loud of the irony, “Moriarty to my Holmes…”