{ZP} Troubles and Tribulations [Complete]

Troubles and Tribulations

Directed By:
Qul Cha'bIp, in Orbit of Qo'noS

Becca could hear it coming off of the Turbolift; the obnoxious tones of Talarian ‘Alba Ra’ music blasting in the engineering section of the ship again. Gormesh was full of idiosyncrasies that drew ire from the crew, yet there was a strange method to his madness. The music for example was set to have the tempo match the harmonic frequency of the warp core. Love it or hate it, one would become so accustom to the music it would become background noise, and from there the engineers would instinctively tell if something was wrong with the warp core just by its sound being off key with the music. As vexing as the Nausicaan was he knew what he was doing.

Turning around one of the support structures of the Warp Core itself, Becca found the Chief Engineer in the corner performing a cringe-worthy dance by himself; completely off beat with the current tunes and oblivious to his surroundings. No matter how smart he was, it still didn’t change the fact he was weird as hell. “HAY FANGFACE!” The Orion shouted over the music, causing several engineers to turn to look in their direction.

Gormesh stopped mid pirouette and snapped his head around so fast his neck popped, looking dead at the Orion Science Officer, “YEeeeeeEEesss?” Such theatrics might offput the new kids, but Becca was use it by now and only rolled her eyes at him. “There is a shipment of Transwarp Coils that came in.” She stated flatly, pointing her finger outwards to the exit of Engineering, indicating the items in their Cargo Hold. His face went from a bemused glance to a menacing scowl, “Who the F**K Authorized That?!” he snarled, his chest puffing as he took a threatening step towards the girl. Still not phased by his bi-polar nature, she continued to point, “Captain’s Direct Orders.”

Once again the Nausicaan’s mood/facial expressions did a prompt 180 to a more friendly/relaxed look. “Oh, That’s fine then. Wonder what we need them for?” he asked. Though as if to answer his question, the ships main announcement system bellowed over the music and noise of engineering:

meH yaS ja’ noH pa’ chach qep

“Looks like were about to find out” Becca shrugs, turning heel to head back to the Turbolift. The two travel in silence, stopping only on deck 3 where Kronq joins them hesitantly. Despite working together the last four months, the kid was still nervous around Becca, which made her giggle some. As much as she wanted to perform more turbolift hijinks, Gormesh’s presence prevented that. As crazy as she was to threaten releasing the emergency clamps, Gormesh was crazier to actually do it without hesitation.

At the turbolift reached Deck 1, Kronq darted out, with the other two in tow. The war room was settled behind the bridge, across from the Captains Office. The Captain, First Officer, and Thra’ssk were already standing by waiting as the other three took their positions around a large holographic display.

Wasting no time, the Captain began the meeting. “Four months ago, just before we joined Task Force Hurq Mevik, they operated out of the Zenas Expanse, far in the Alpha Quadrant under the distinction ‘Zenas Privateers’.”

“That’s where I keep hearing ZP from…” Gormesh muttered to himself.

“They operated out of Starbase 151 ‘Charming Hope’ and were given three months to transfer all Task Force assets from 151 to Starbase tlhIvqu’ that we operate out of now. Given the Federations Mirror War, that timeframe was push back some. Records indicated that the last remaining assets were transferred aboard a Tuffli Freighter S.S. Sodor 16 hours ago. 2 Hours ago it sent out an automated distress signal, then command lost contact.”

“Our orders are as follows. Utilize the Trans Warp Gateway at Ganalda Station, head straight for the Shahr System and find any sign of the Sodor. If its in-tact, assess whatever damages and escort her back. If its destroyed, find out who did it, kick their ass, and recover any assets we can. V’ecna will be leading this mission; I have business to attend to on Qo’noS, and will be taking Becca with me.”

The last few words sent a flutter of looks among the gathered crew. “If there are no questions, your dismissed. Becca, prep the Chariot.” He finished up, turning to head to his office. Becca glanced to V’ecna for clarification, with the First officer only shrugging in confusion, and motioning for her to go and follow her orders. As the group dispersed to their stations, V’ecna entered Roh’Khan’s office.

“Is everything ok?” She asked cautiously. Roh’Khan gave a deep sigh as he added more belongings to a travel case, “No…Matron’s youngest has died. Were all being recalled to the manner.” V’ecna placed her hand over her mouth in shock, “I’m so sorry…”

“Its fine. I was going to bring you along, but this mission takes precedence. I just need Becca there to snoop around some.” He further explained. “Well don’t worry about us, We will take care of this and come right back. Give my love to Matron Terrath. QaD parmaq

[To be Continued]


Warp factor: What?

Directed By:
Qul Cha'bIp, Ganalda System Transwarp Gate

The Blackend Klingon Raptor came to a halt some 100km away from the Transwarp Gateway. It was massive, making the starship look like a gnat on a War-Targ’s ass by comparison. When reverse-engineering the Borg Transwarp Network technology, the KDF sure didn’t deviate much from the original specs, save for the adornment on top, and the color scheme.

V’ecna took her place in Roh’Khan’s chair, “We ready?” she announced to the bridge staff. “Stand-by Ma’am. Mapping Long Distance Trajectory is going to take a minute.” Kronq announced from his station. “I thought that was all automatic?” Thra’ssk inquired. “If it were point-to-point, sure. Travel between gateways is closely monitored so there is little deviation needed. But where we are going doesn’t have a gateway, were essentially using this as a slipstream boost to get us halfway across the quadrant before diminishing returns brings us back to normal speed. As fast as were going to go, course corrections are neigh impossible, so you have to get it right the first time.” Kronq explained, his full expertise in piloting finally showing itself to the crew.

“How fast can this gate send us?” Thra’ssk again questioned, an air of general intrigue in his voice. “Well, looking at the stellar charts, I think I can get us a clean shot to Minos Korva…computer estimates…half a day?” Kronk began. But before he could finish, Gormesh chimed in, “82.46 Lightyears in 12 Hours, we would be traveling at a rate equivalent of Warp 41, with diminishing factor of 3 per hour.” He stated matter-of-factly. This caused the bridge to go silent as everyone turned to look at him in amazement. After the brief pause, the Nausicaan looked around and balked at the onlookers, “What? Im an engineer. I fix shit and I know things.” He withdrew a strip of Targ Jerky from his belt and munched on it before shrugging off the looks, “Screw you all, I’m going back to Engineering.” And storming off to the Turbo-lift.

As soon as the Engineer left the bridge, Kronq turned to the rest of the crew, “Is he like…a robot with screwed up programming, and just no one told me?!” There was a general chuckle on the bridge, even from V’ecna who shook her head, “I wish, that would explain SO much; but no he bleeds like the rest of us. When you’re ready warrior, take us through.”

“Yes Ma’am!” The Pilot responded. Sending in the activation signal, the Transwarp Gateway lit up in a swirling hue of red, and the Qul Cha’bIp warped away into the abyss.

[To be Continued]


Family Matters

Directed By:
Toron Shuttlecraft “Kortar’s Chariot”

The Orion sits at the helm and readies to lay in the course as Roh’Khan boards the craft. “Where too Captain?” she queries. “House Terrath’s Estate.” He answers somberly. Becca lets out a deep sigh that nearly deflates the small woman, while rolling her eyes. The ONE place she never wanted to go back too. Tapping the controls aggressively as she plotted the course, “No offence, but im going to nee—” she began before a twisted brown bottle of Aged Cardassian Kanar was thrusted infront of her. Becca looked up at Roh’Khan sweetly as she took the bottle, cooing “Ahh…you know me so well.” Biting off the cork to the bottle, she took a deep swig, following it up with the final commands to the console. “Course laid in. Auto-Pilot work, or are we in a hurry?”

Roh’Khan removed his shoulder pads and slung them in the chair behind them, plopping down into the seat next to her, “Trust me, I’m not delighted to have been summoned under the circumstances, as long as we don’t miss the funeral, I don’t care.” He declared, holding his hand out for the bottle. Becca passed the brown alcoholic beverage across, and watched the Captain take a deep swig himself. “Funeral? I’m sorry, I keep my nose in a lot of people’s business, but I swore after I left I wanted nothing to do with that House again.”

“I know, I know…” he mused, passing the bottle back, and undoing the straps on his jacket. “If it not been for the mission, I would have brought V’ecna not you, but I need someone to sniff around while were down there. Matron’s son was killed in an apparent hunting accident, though the way she talked there was more going on.”

Becca shuddered at the name, Matron was a horrid woman she would have loved to have never have met, but given present company she had to at least give her a modicum of respect as she was the one to have inducted Roh’Khan formally into the House when he was younger. “Well, we got about an hour, mind getting me up to speed?” she asked, leaning back seductively in her seat and taking another swig of the bottle, her alluringly acts toward the bottle went un-noticed (or at least un-responded) By the Acamarian who busied himself with settling in a more casual attire.

“After That Iconian killed most of the Council, Including Terrath we were left without a Patriarch. Matron, being Terrath’s mother and political aid assumed she would inherit the responsibility. However J’empok denied her request, stating we needed strong and capable warriors to lead out houses into this new war, especially after suffering such a loss already.” He began. “Ohh, I bet she didn’t like that.” Becca interjected, passing the bottle.

“No, especially when Th’rok, Terrath’s son assumed the roll unopposed.” He explained, taking another swig and passing the bottle. “Little T-roc? Didn’t she treat him like shit?” Becca asked. Roh’Khan huffed at her question, “Matron treats everyone she cant make use of like shit, which backfired on her greatly. When Th’rok took over, Matron tried to advise him as she did his father, but he wanted nothing to do with her and shut her out.”

“That’s why she got knocked up so quick…” she muttered to herself. Roh’khan nodded, “Most likely, hoping her new ‘Son’ would bear more claim to the House than her grandchild, or whatever. It was inconsequential at the time. Anyway, when the Civil War Broke out Th’rok broke house ties with J’empok after that bullshit at Khitomer. It was Matron that made contact with House Mo’Kai and for a time, her and Th’rok were working together. Come to find out, Matron was allegedly plotting to petition to be made Matriarch of the house when the battles were over. Th’rok was furious and banished her to the estate. Thankfully that didn’t get out, last thing we needed was to look weak from within to a new Chancellor.” He finished, once again passing over the bottle the two had been sharing.

“That was very ‘Duras’ of her.” Becca exclaimed, loosening her blouse. “Yea, that’s what a lot of others thought of it as well, she lost a lot of favor from that stunt with the extended family, however she is still the eldest of our House, and is still due that much respect.” Roh’khan affirmed, still ignoring the Orions passive advances. “And because you’re her little chIS Suvwl’, you still come at her beckon call.” She teased.

“It would be a great dishonor on myself to ignore the death of a family member. I just don’t want to get caught up in any undue internal house drama. That’s where you come in, I want you to vet whatever stories are spun at the funeral so we can get in, and get back to the ship as soon as possible.” He finished up, holding his hand out for the bottle. Becca turned the container upside down, a single drop of what remain fell onto her chest, rolling down her curves. “Sorry sir…all out.”

Roh’khan rolled his eyes, “There is a case of bloodwine in the back, fetch us a bottle each. ghotl’.

“Yes sir…” she mused bewitchingly before rising out of her chair and heading to the back. “You can cut that crap out too…” he growled. There was a moment, filled with the sound of bottles in the back before she called out, “Its not the first time you and I have shared a private shuttle ride filled with alcohol.” She giggled, returning to the front and handing the Captain his own bottle. “Old Times…” he said. “Good times too if I recall correctly.” She replied. “We were incredibly drunk, and I doubt you could get me that drunk again before we reached our destination.” He proclaimed, leaning back in his seat and taking another drink.

“So your saying there IS an alcohol limit involved…interesting.” she continued to tease. Roh’Khan rolled his eyes in defeat. “Id say V’ecna would ring your neck, but you’d enjoy that…” he groaned. “Ahh…you know me so well.” She mocked, followed up with a series of giggles.

[To Be Continued]


Ode to Akbar

Directed By:
Shahr System; Dubhe Sector; Alpha Quadrant

Not only did the Qul Cha’bIp sail across the stars at such a speed, but she managed it in one shot and even found her prey exactly where they projected her to be. The Freighter Starship SS. Sodor stood adrift before them, all -technical- indications showed nothing wrong, but something was definitely not right about this picture.

“Scans?” V’ecna ordered. “All ship systems appear to be on standby Ma’am. No faults or errors detected.” Kronq responded. “I’m detecting no life-signs aboard, but no escape pods have been launched either.” Thra’ssk reported. “According to these readings, and our log of the cargo manifest, nothing appears to be missing …she’s still fully loaded.” Gormesh added.

V’ecna looked out at the view screen in confusion, “Who leaves their ship just sitting here? HoDwI’ maw’?” she muttered to herself aloud. “How many crewmen were registered to this vessel?” she asked to Kronq. Quickly checking his records, “Uhhh….Three Ma’am. Engineering Class Captain, and Two Deck Hands.”

“Should we try hailing them?” Gormesh asked bluntly. Just as the bridge crew paused to look at him before for his brilliant flare of intelligence earlier, all stopped to look in awe at such a dumb question. “ SoH QIp? We just confirmed there are no life signs aboard! Who’s going to answer? The Ghost of J’mpok?” Thra’ssk snapped. “What? Stranger shit has happened…” Gormesh remarked, matter-of-factly. There was another ironic pause as the bridge crew looked among one another. As much as he HATED to admit it, The Nausicaan wasn’t wrong. V’ecna and Thra’ssk exchanged a look, with the commander shrugging at a loss for words, and motioning forward to carry it out.

The Gorn officer rolled his eyes, and rapped his control console, activating the open hailing frequency:

tongDuj Sodor, tlhInganyan ‘ejDo’ Qul Cha’bIp, jang!

His words were loud and fierce, as if barking an order to Kronq. There was a tense silence as they waited to see what would happen. After roughly 30 seconds, there was a beeping from Gormesh’s console. All eyes were on the Nausicaan Engineer as he reviewed the data pouring on his screen in silence. His face read the screen then contorted in contemplation for another few moments before Thra’ssk blurted out, “Well?! What is it?!” Snapping his attention away from his console he looked around, registering his popularity and shook his head, “Oh, no, they didn’t reply. One of my Engineers is making a Zilm’kach smoothie and asked if I wanted one.”

The bridge exploded into sighs of exasperation and facepalms. Having enough shenanigans, V’ecna snapped. “Enough! All Three of you beam over there and find out what’s wrong. If nothing else, link the ships control systems to here so we can start the tow!” she barked. Following her orders, Kronq, Thra’ssk and Gormesh exited the bridge to the Turbolift. (Gormesh muttering his displeasure at missing out on his smoothie)

As they walked down the corridor to the Transporter room, Gormesh couldn’t help but to ask. “Did anyone ever stop to consider this could be a trap?”. Thra’ssk stopped dead in his tracks, and reached out slowly and tensely with his claws as if to grab the Nausicaan by the throat, (only to grab air since Gormesh didn’t stop). Kronq noticing this stopped as well. Reluctantly regaining his composure the latter two entered the transporter room and approached their positions on the pad.

Taking his place in the middle, behind both Kronq and Gormesh, Thra’ssk turns to the Klingon Pilot and states “Kid, you’d been promoted in priority, if we die here today, The fat one dies first…” He snarled, snapping his jaws at Gormesh at the word ‘fat’ before turning around and motioning for the Transporter Officer to engage.

[To be Continued]


Honored Dead

Directed By:
Qo’noS; House Terrath Private Compound

Klingons don’t usually entertain ‘Funerals’, however Matron had been performing the child’s Ak’voh and wished to send the boys spirit off to Sto-vo-kor in celebration. Being house-bound did not afford her many opportunities as of late to see everyone either, so using her position as elder mistress, called forth this gathering to celebrate the life and prosperity of the House in general. Many had come in attendance (probably because they had little else to do) but there were a few notable absentees.

Roh’Khan and Becca stood in attendance as the body of the young warrior was set ablaze among a pyre, while family members sang songs of the childs life and accomplishments. It was a time of reflection for all, of all they had endured, and despite all that how quickly one could be taken from the mortal world.

The Celebrations quickly moved to the bar where warnog and bloodwine flowed freely among those in attendance. House members catching up with one another, and performing feats of strength, such as the B’aht Qul or knife throwing were aplenty. After making his rounds and being congratulated by many for his accomplishment as a KDF Captain, Roh’Khan made his way to a table for some ‘peace and quiet’.

Becca squeezed her way to the table herself, having made her own rounds (albeit not as publicly as the Captain) and brought the two drinks. It did not take long for Matron to find them and join at their table

Matron: “Oh my sweet chIS Suvwl’ Roh’Khan! How you have grown!”
Roh’Khan: “Matron, it is an honor to see you in good health.”
Matron: “Oh, I had hoped you would bring V’ecna with you, I wished to meet my soon to be Daughter-in-law before my own death. Not this overused green jeghpu’wI’
Becca: “Good to see you in good health too, Matron,” She spoke coldly, raising her glass to the elder
Matron: rolls her eyes in clear disgust at the Orion before turning back to her ‘son’ “Tell me, how is that new ship we got you working out?”
Roh’Khan: “It is very good. Fast and Powerful. V’ecna sends her condolences, but we had received a mission before I departed, so she could not join us.”
Matron: “Duty first, yes. I’m sure that’s why -some- could not make it.” she spat venomously “I only hope that when their time comes, others are not as busy to not give their proper respects. You know it was I who helped push through the deal to give you that ship? The Elders wanted to give you a pitiful Somraw Raptor, but I said ‘Not for the Hero of Vaadwaur Prime! Not my boy, he deserves much better’.”
Roh’Khan: takes a deep chug from his drink, knowing exactly where this is going, prepares himself for the enevitable. “Yes, and with it, we have served the Empire dutifully, but I could have done so from a B’rel! The Qul Cha’bIp is a great testament to the power of House Terrath. But tell me, what can I do to thank you for your gracious contribution?”
Matron: She too chugs her drink, setting it down “Times have been hard for me, my child. The loss of yet another son…being cooped up here at the manner, Th’roc stripping me of my position as gin’tak! Its almost too much for me to bare! Then that vum couldn’t even be bothered to attend his Uncle’s ceremony…the dishonor is almost too great!”
Roh’Khan: motions for Becca to head out “I’m sure Chancellor Th’roc is busy with High Council work. The Civil War has left a lot of mending to be made to restore the Empire from its fractured state.”
Becca: not needing to be told twice, she collected the empty cups under the guise of getting more drinks and departed the table, glad for an excuse to get away from Matron.
Matron: “Bah! You are a starship captain, with an important mission, and YOU managed to come. He has no excuse! He hasn’t even been around the House for many months! Does he plan to lead the house as a ghost? For none of us here see him to acknowledge his position as Head! If only we had one strong enough to face him and invoke Ya’nora kor. I would die well knowing our house would live on in strong hands.
Roh’Khan: takes a deep sigh “If it would appease you, I can go to First City and speak with him.”
Matron: “Yes…You do that. See what excuse he concocts for his absence and dishonor too us all!”

Matron rises, and so does Roh’Khan out of respect. The Elder places her hand on his shoulder. “You may not have been born Klingon, but our blood flows strong through your veins my child! Continue to honor yourself and our house!”

[To be Continued]

1 Like

Transcendental Terror

Directed By:
S.S. Sodor; Shahr System; Dubhe Sector

It was better for them to split up, cover more ground and assess the ship better. Plus, If they had stayed together, there was a good chance Thra’ssk might have eaten Gormesh. The Nausicaan obviously volunteered to take engineering, Kronq was stuck with the grunt work checking the cargo bays, and Thra’ssk took the bridge.

The Gorn towered over the control panels of the Freighter’s bridge, but it did not take him long to override command, and initiate a remote link to the Qul Cha’bIp. After a brief search of the room, finding not a single spec of evidence of life he spent the next few minutes of peace and quiet scrolling through the ships logs. Shortly after departure there was an issue in Cargo Bay 12, a few minutes later the Automatic Distress Beacon was activated via Voice commands from the same Cargo Bay, after that…nothing.

So whatever happened, occurred in Cargo Bay 12. Checking ships sensors, Thra’ssk could see Kronq was diligently working his way in order, already in Cargo Bay 7. As he reached to activate the comms, he noticed a life sign blip approaching the bridge fast. The Gorn spun around and drew his Disruptor, aimed at the door as Gormesh barreled through, sweat pouring from his head, his face in a mix of shock and panic. The Nausicaan peered around for a moment, “Where is the kid?” Gormesh was known for emotional outbursts, bipolar episodes, and erratic behavior, but fear was never apart of that mix. “What’s wrong?” the Gorn inquired.

“ WHERE IS HE!?” Gormesh roared out, rushing to an adjacent terminal. “He’s in Cargo Bay 7, I was just about to call him, Calm down, what the hell is going on?” Thra’ssk snapped. “We need to get back to the ship, NOW.” He hurriedly explained. Tapping on the terminal before him Gormesh activated the comms to the Cargo Bay Kronq was in, “Gormesh to Kronq, Report!” his tone reflected his nervousness, as Thra’ssk pulled up the video footage of the room. Kronq was standing next to a crate, with a data padd in his hand, scanning off barcodes off the sides of the freight to ensure everything was accounted for, at the call he stopped and looked up, “Kronq here. So far everything is accounted for.”

Gormesh snarled to himself, “Are you just scanning the boxes, or are you actually opening some to verify what’s inside?!” he rushed. Thra’ssk could see the Klingon throw his hands up in frustration, and reach for a box, “Standby…”

“NO DON’T!!!” Gormesh yelled across the comms, but it was too late, Kronq had already pulled the lever. The crate door swung open, spilling out the contents inside which the Klingon Pilot narrowly avoided being avalanched under. But what poured out was not what Thra’ssk had intended to see. Instead of parts, components, or metallic scrap; hundreds of small, round, fuzzy balls tumbled out into the cargo bay floor. The crate was packed with Tribbles.

“Oh SHIT!” Thra’ssk blurted out, as they watched Kronq scurry away and back to his feet. He drew his Disruptor but stopped curiously for a moment as he watched the pile. “NO NO NO!!” Gormesh shouted as he scrambled to re-activate the comms, “THEIR NOT DEAD! THEIR MUTATED! RUN!!!” He shouted, so loud in fact that they could hear the echo of the words all the way in the bridge. True to his words, the lifeless balls of fur began to stir on the ground, and a horrid sight occurred. Multiple long appendages and bone shards began to tear out of the Tribble’s bodies, as a grotesque face was almost ‘molted’ outwards as if the entire body was being duplicated via still connected cell-separation. Kronq could only take a pop-shot at the collective mass before he rushed out of the Cargo Hold, the horde of ‘monsters’ using their furry appendages like legs, scurrying after.

Reference: Arachnophobia Warning

((Photo REF: https://www.ex-astris-scientia.org/gallery/artoftrek/poluka-spider-ds9.jpg))

“Qul Cha’bIp, Ready Emergency Beam out for three on my mark!” Thra’ssk reported as he and Gormesh moved to the door to the Bridge, Disruptors out. They came to check things out, they were NOT prepared for a fight like this. The two could hear Kronq’s furious screaming getting louder as he bolted down the hallway like his life depended on it, followed closely behind the chittering sounds of…whatever the hell they were chasing after. But things only got worse, as the commotion from the Cargo Bay must have awakened more, Cargo Bay’s 5, 4, and 3 doors began to open as the sound of the monstrous chittering grew exponentially louder as if more creatures were waking up.

“SEAL THOSE DOORS!” Thra’ssk ordered, Gormesh leaving his post by the door and heading to the nearest terminal to override the Cargo bay doors. Thra’ssk began aiming down the hallway, firing his disruptor past his Klingon protégé at the creatures pursuing him. “I WILL F##KING LEAVE YOU, MOVE YOUR ASS WARRIOR!” He roared down the hallway to motivate the Klingon. A few more of these monsters began to come out of the opening cargo bay doors as Gormesh managed to get them to close, Thra’ssk firing to keep Kronq’s way clear.

20 meters….18……16……13……7 meters away, Kronq was literally running for his life. Death in battle was one thing, but to be feasted upon by a horde of tribble, would bring dishonor to him and his whole family. “TRANSPORTER ROOM, NOW!” Thra’ssk Shouted into his comms, as he reached his claw out to his comrade, grasping his hand as the red beams of light shimmered over the three.

There was a loud scram of pain from Kronq as they collapsed onto the Transporter pad. The three (plus transport officer) looked to see what was wrong, and they found that one of the creatures had made a hail-mary lunge and attached itself to the Klingon’s foot mid-transport, its ‘fangs’ buried deep into his foot. Both Kronq and Gormesh aimed their Disruptors and fired, striking and killing the creature, as well as hitting his ankle. There was another cry of pain, as Thra’ssk pulled the warrior off the pad to rush him to the infirmary, while Gormesh scrambled to get a level 9 forcefield over the carcass of their stow-away.

Two Hours Later
I.K.S. Qul Cha’bIp; Science Lab

V’ecna entered the Science Lab to find Gormesh and Thra’ssk waiting. She had just come from the Infirmary where the young Warrior Kronq lay in a coma, his foot was mangled and burned but would at least heal in time, the poison in his system however was the most troubling. “Report.” She snapped angrily.

“Video Surveillance indicate that one of the cargo-pods onboard was infected with Tribbles.” Thra’ssk began, “When the Freighter Captain discovered this, he deployed a home-made remedy.”

Gormesh pressed a button which removed the dark tint over the container on the desk, it -appeared- to be a dead tribble inside. V’ecna looked over at it in disgust then back to the two, “Are you two telling me you all ran from this? And that it caused that amount of damage to our pilot?” she snarled. “No ma’am. The Ship’s captian had a ghIlo’meH onboard. Well, an unregulated version of it. This version has DNA from an Andorian Glikar’ma spider. We think that’s what is contributing to Kronq’s condition.

“So, it’s a Mutated Spider Glommer? Then why does it look like a Tribble? What does that have to do with the Missing Crew?” V’ecna inquired, more concerned than angered now. “Well, Becca’s not here to do her job, but were guessing this species uses the carcass of a Tribble to hide in, which is why we didn’t detect its lifesigns. Adjusting the sensors, we can confirm 1,300 of them currently onboard. They are like Tribble, in that they multiply when they consume.” Thra’ssk explained. “I saw them moving around in Engineering…Most likely they did their jobs too well, not only killed the Tribble on board, but also the crew in Cargo Bay 12, which is why they never clarified their issue. And with no other food source these ‘terrors’ went into a kind of hibernation until we showed up. Movement and Sound seem to trigger them” Gormesh further explained.

“Recommendations?” V’ecna inquired. “High Yield Torpedoes. Lots of them.” Thra’ssk stated without hesitation. V’ecna shook her head, “I’m not about to destroy fleet resources so easily and head home empty handed.” “But Ma’am, You know the mandate on Tribbles! And these are FAR worse! We cant allow a single one to make it back to the fleet!” he tried to argue. V’ecna slowly turned her glare upward to the Gorn, but before she could berate him, Gormesh chimed in, “What if we vented the atmosphere onboard? Suffocate and freeze them out?”

The two turned to the Nausicaan, once again a brilliant streak of intelligence showing. “Will it work?” V’ecna tested. Gormesh shrugged, “Couldn’t hurt, no one else is over there. And afterwards we can just clear them out with a baryon sweep before we make it back to the fleet star base.”

“Do it!” V’ecna ordered, “And incinerate that -THING-” she added to the contained Tribble Corpse as the three departed the Science Lab for the bridge. Thankfully Thra’ssk had transferred remote access to the Freighter as soon as he got aboard, so the matter of overriding safety protocols and venting the atmosphere was almost too easy. The crew watched from the view screen as all ingress points opened up, venting gas, loose particles, and even small furry blobs. They cheered in success as they watched Tribbles fly out of the freighter into space, but Thra’ssk was not so enthused.

“Commander. Scans indicate there are STILL over 800 life signs aboard.” He reported from his terminal. “WHAT?! How?!” She demanded to know. The Gorn pulled up security footage from inside the cargo ship, showing that the ‘spiders’ had made compact cocoons using cargo crates which somehow held in the oxygen for them to survive. They even spotted a few roaming spiders skittering down corridors, with an orb like weave around their heads, like a biodegradable EV suit. “I’m starting to lean towards the Torpedo suggestion Ma’am.” Gormesh deadpanned from his station. V’ecna slammed her fist on the Captains Chair in frustration. The first time Roh’Khan left her in full command could NOT end like this in failure.

“One Darsek…” She growled from her seat. “One Darsek for every mutated corpse made by a warrior. We will not blow up our belongings! We will not allow these FREAKS to take what belongs to the Empire! That ship belongs to US! They injured OUR warrior, and for that they will all SUFFER WITH THEIR LIVES!” She hailed. The crew roared in unison to her words. “SUIT UP!” She ordered, “The bulk of their numbers will be easy pickings inside their hide! The rest we will snuff out with impunity!” The crew rallied together and headed off towards the Turbolift, ready to claim glory and riches!

“Gormesh.” V’ecna called out to the Engineer. “Don’t tell the Captain I authorized this…but your free to use the Flamer…” Gormesh’s face lit up like a child at a candy store as he jumped up with joy and headed off to the armory.

The ensuing action afterward was not a battle, but a bloodbath as Klingon Warriors climbed over each other to claim their kills with Disruptor Fire, Bat’leth and the occasional brave d’k tahg. But none were quite as successful as The Nausicaan and Gorn who took back half of the ship on their own in burning green plasma fire.

[To be Continued]

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Woes of Blood

Directed By:
Qo’noS; First City; House Terrath Council Chambers

Roh’Khan had been waiting for over an hour. Sure, Th’roc son of Terrath, Head of one of the Great Houses of the Klingon Empire was a busy man, but Matron was right about one thing; he could make the time for what he believed was important enough, and that clearly didn’t seem like his family right now. The Lethean Political Aid would come in from time to time, always apologizing for the Councilmen’s busy schedule, assuring him he will be here ‘sometime soon’ and checking a few things on the screen before hurrying off again, leaving Roh’Khan alone in the chambers. All he could do was cross his arms and grumble in annoyance as he waited some more.

A few Hours Prior

Roh’Khan: “So what did you find out?”
Becca: “General Reports that the kid fell victim to mIl’oDmey, but his wounds are too…light for that. They maul and gash their victims, the kid only had a few scratches and deep puncture wounds.”
Roh’Khan: “General consensus?”
Becca: “Id say Bar Fight gone bad. Someone could have easily made more wounds post-mortem to make it look like an animal attack.”
Roh’Khan: “So Murder?”
Becca: “I don’t know…but I do know that the d’k tahg burned with the body did not belong to the boy…”
Roh’Khan: “Couldn’t he have lost it in the hunt?”
Becca: “Yea, but you think Matron would have said something, went through hell to ensure his honorable blade was at his side in the end after all the fanfare she went through to call in the family.
Roh’Khan: “True. So she’s covering something up…wonderful.”
Becca: “Look, whatever it is, just be careful in there. Ill ask around and see if I can dig up anything more concrete when we get into the city.”

His mental flashback was interrupted as the Lethean once again entered the room, “Captain Roh’khan?” he called out. The captain turned to face the aid, who was withdrawn by the door, “The councilman will see you now.” He stated, stepping back and holding his arm to guide the way. ‘Finally…’ Roh’khan thought, though something felt off.

The two traversed the corridors of the Great Hall, leading into one of the hidden courtyards for staff and councilmen away from the public eye. There, he saw Th’roc by one of the fountains. He was a large man, who bore battle scars of a warrior, draped in custom attire fitting of a Great Council Member.

“Captain Roh’khan, son of None, of My House Name. Zel here says you wish to speak with me, a matter of ‘great importance to the House of Terrath’ is that correct?” The Patriarch inquired, slowly turning to face him. “No, I am here at the behest of our Matron, nothing more.” Th’roc nodded, and slowly began to approach, circling the Acamarian. Roh’khan noticed that they were indeed not alone in this alcove, as he could see the silhouettes of other warriors off in the distance watching intently. “So YOU don’t wish to speak to me, you are merely a puppet of that lo’laHbe’ qan cha’qu’ I banished to the Main House? She was the one who inducted you into our house was she not, bathed you in our blood? How loyal you must be to your precious Matron.”

“I am only here to seek an answer on her behalf, I have no part in whatever there is between you two.” Roh’khan stated firmly, standing his ground, yet lowering his head in submissive respect to his house patron.

Th’roc rushed forward, Roh’khan took a step back in anticipation, but he only faced a stern finger in his face from the larger Klingon. “And let me guess? She wishes to know why her boy is dead, and not me? Or did she send you here to finish the job?!” He snarled, a mere inches from Roh’khan’s face. In the distance, the guards had closed in some from the rush of movement, but were still holding position a way back. “Once again Roh’khan raised his hands as a sign of submission, “Nothing of the sorts, she only wished you to explain why you were not in attendance.”

“LIES!” Th’roc shouted, turning his back to Roh’khan and pointing to one of the fountains. Out from behind the pillar, a guard emerged with a bound and gagged Becca in tow. “I found your SPY meddling around in the city asking about the boy! Do not take me for a fool Boy! I know what your after! I know why Matron wanted me at that farce of a ceremony, to accuse me of her boys death, belittle me in front of the family, to play victim to grader support from people like YOU and challenge my place as Head of the House!”

Roh’khan fists clinched, though he dare not raise them (yet). “Well did you kill him?” He snapped, the tone of voice a little less passive as before. Th’roc gave a malevolent grin. “See for yourself!” he bade, pointing his hand at a blank wall as a screen appeared.

The security footage shows Matron’s son barging into Th’rocs private quarters in the dead of night, he was clearly intoxicated beyond all hope. Though there was no audio, he could tell there was shouting between the two. Th’roc tried to shove the child out of the room, but was pushed back. The boy drew for his d’k tahg and lunged at the larger man, who effortlessly threw him aside. More shouting, more berating from the older Klingon, and once again the younger lunged with his blade. Th’roc grabbed his hand as the two struggled for a moment before the blade slipped into the chest of the child, and he crumpled to the floor. Th’roc was visibly furious, roaring and kicking over furniture at what had transpired. As guards finally made their way into the room, the Elder Klingon reached down, performing the death ritual with honor, before motioning for his guards to clean up the mess.

“She filled that boys head with delusions of grandeur, she pushed her own inadequacies into him. He attacked me without Honor! I knew he was young, and stupid! I tried to reason with him, I tried to put him down gently; but he was too headstrong, too stubborn, and too drunk to care! One of us was not leaving that room that night, rather she ordered the hit or he did it out of a sense of duty to her is irrelevant! That’s why she called for that spectacle! She wanted to call me out because she knew DAMN well it was no hunting accident! Her actions would only fracture our family, draw us into a meaningless civil war which would weaken our position among the High Council, and our prestige with the new Chancellor! She cannot face me herself, so she sends high-strung pawns like YOU to do her dirty work, hoping your sense of honor would make you fight me as her Champion!”

Roh’khan only shook his head at this. The worse part was, the entire scenario portrayed by Th’roc, he could fully see Matron trying to do. She was always a conniving individual, but her family position kept her protected. When her son Terrath was killed, it must have shook her senses and sent her into a frenzy.

“So, what say you, Captain? Knowing the truth as you do now, will you continue to serve your Matron… or do what is necessary for the House as a whole, the one you swore a blood oath to uphold?” The Patriarch announced.

“Give me the boys d’k tahg…” Roh’khan settled. Th’rok did not leave his eyes off the Acamarian as he withdrew the blade from his belt and threw it at his feet. Roh’Khan bent down and collected the blade, sheathing it into his own belt. “Matron was the closest thing I had to a mother, she taught me what it was to be Klingon, to be a part of this family. Her actions here goes against everything she has taught me. Her measures are more Romulan than Klingon, and if I don’t kill you here and now, she will only find someone else, or worse spread her falsehoods to another house for support. She is a blight upon this house, who has hidden behind stature for too long, and I will not see her undo everything we have built.”

Roh’Khan placed his palm into his mouth and swiped across, cutting into his hand drawing blood. Red-Green droplets fell to the ground as he held out his hand to Th’roc. “I, Roh’Khan, Son of None, of House Terrath will do my duty to my family and house, and end this madness once and for all. To you, I swear.”

Th’roc was hesitant at first, but he too withdrew his own blade, cutting into his palm, and clasping their hands together. “Duty, for the sake of the house, is never easy. The burden you take on, is not light. You have my respect, brother.” As they released their hold, Th’roc motioned for Becca to be released, and she quickly hurried to the side of her Captain.

The two departed the Great Hall in silence, Roh’Khans hand never leaving the gifted blade at his hip…

[The End]

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