Qo'nos - Part 1

Posted on Wed Sep 2nd, 2015 @ 9:47pm by Lieutenant Commander Kh'ali & Aros & Commander Patrick Leroy & Lieutenant Nick Marcinko
Edited on on Sat Oct 3rd, 2015 @ 12:25am

Mission: Further Challenges

The klingon most renowned locale for carousing was just as Patrick had expected. Crowded, noisy and full of boisterous klingons intent on showing their battle-scars and generally on the verge of a riot.

'Iw jatlhpu'

Or that was the name Kalim had told him, literally: ‘the call of blood’. Couldn’t have been any different thinking of the planet it was located on and the people that catered there.

Following a pressing insistence by his almost brother-in-law Patrick had donned the typical klingon attire. Kalim seemed to be exceedingly observant of Klingons’ traditions in Patrick’s opinion but he didn’t want to let him down and so had made an effort to please him. Sure was that he felt now uncomfortable in those spikey-pointy armor-like clothes.

The only thing Patrick had managed to obtain for the evening was to avoid food that had to be chased around the table. That meant he’d been eating little while bloodwine had flowed generously, thanks to Kalim and a sort of dizziness was now taking over him.

A Klingon at the table with them told a joke and the rest laughed uproariously. Kalim clapped Patrick on the back as he continued to roar with laughter. “Humans have the best jokes,” he shouted. The group all picked up the large mugs of bloodwine and slammed them together, then drained them. “Drink up, brother,” Kalim ordered. “It makes the women here look better.”

Following suit Patrick brought the mug to his lips and emptied it in a few gulps. No matter how much of that darn beverage they called ‘bloodwine’ he’d already ingested it kept burning all the way down to the stomach. Putting the mug back heavily on the table he drew breath, making his best to make it seem a deep inhalation instead of a gasp of the air he desperately needed.

“I bet he could keep up with us,” exclaimed one of the klingons ending with a coarse laugh.

“Bet he can too,” Kalim snorted. “And Q’Vahn thinks you are a weakling. That woman isn’t the sharpest blade in the arsenal though.” He shouted at the barkeep and soon another round was on the table. “Warriors, take your mugs. First to hit the table wins.” He shouted ‘go!’ and they began to drain the mugs.

With an instant of delay Patrick joined them. He was not the first to hit the table but that doesn’t mattered to him. With the last remark about Q’Vahn his expression had darkened, a shadow had descended on him as the bloodwine coursing through his veins made it difficult to restrain his emotions. Oblivious to the klingons chattering his thoughts were now lingering on Kh’ali and his son, far from him and in constant danger.

Another slam on the back from Kalim’s hand brought him suddenly back to the here and now.

“Not bad at all.” Kalim’s smile shifted to a scowl suddenly. “Well, well, looks like the trash has showed up.” He inclined his head and they could see Kh’ang approaching. “Don’t let him talk down to you,” Kalim growled at Patrick’s ear.

Patrick followed Kalim’s look to see the biggest klingon he’d ever met standing close to the locale entrance. With a confident strut the newcomer moved through the crowd definitely bound to their table.

“Are we going to have our evening ruined?” Patrick half-muttered at Kalim’s address as the sounds of laughter quieted down, substituted by stares of interest and anticipation.

“Khang,” Kalim greeted him. “What brings you around to ruin our evening? Your mistress getting tired of you?” The question brought laughter from those around the table.

A deep low growl rumbled out from Khang’s chest in response to the insult but he remained otherwise still. Casting a glance around he silenced the lingering chuckles. “I have no mistress, P’tahk . I’ve heard that a great feast was being held here for the upcoming wedding of this stranger with your sister. Doesn’t seem like that to me. And this human... I bet he can barely stand now.”

“What?” Patrick replied rising from the seat feeling effectively somewhat unsteady on his legs.

Khang turned him a shark’s smile “Perhaps you should have remained safe at your home. I don’t think you have the guts to pass the Kah’lyah. Not even with the help of Kalim here or of the other one, your Tawi’Yan. Not supporting you tonight, I see.”

Walking around the table he came closer to Patrick who had to look up to meet his eyes. “But I’m feeling of good disposition tonight and I invite you to drink with me.”

“I think… I’m not thirsty anymore.” Patrick replied defiantly with that reckless courage borne of a tipsy heart.

“You’re spurning my offer in front of everyone?” Khang growled narrowing his eyes.

“I think he’s saying that you were not invited,” Kalim laughed. “Now run along, we have a celebration to continue.”

“Hmph!” Khang snorted in despise casting a glance at the mixed fellowship. “Celebrate while you can.” He said then leaning towards Kalim. He would have gladly broken the braggart’s neck but the human was around and Q’Vahn had given clear instructions so, that would have waited another day.

On the other hand the man Q’Vahn had pointed out was nowhere to be seen so, without waiting for a response, Khang turned and walked towards the doors of the locale. At a slight gesture of his hand three other klingons, who were sitting at various tables, stood and followed him out of the nightclub.

Patrick slumped back in the seat exhaling heavily “A mean one, huh?”

Kalim watched them go and turned his attention back to Patrick. “That one lost his will and his honor to a bitter woman,” he answered. “Now, he has become nothing more than her lackey. It has made him bitter as well, and useless.”

“I would rather stay away from him rather than test his uselessness.” Patrick remarked watching the closed doors of the nightclub. Then looked inside his mug and frowned slightly “One more?”

That got a chorus of laughter from around the table. “There’s always one more,” Kalim answered.

* Back At Home *

The sounds of baby babbling could be heard from the second bedroom where Aros was settling D’Veidh down for the night. Much of the conversation ran along the lines of Aros sharing his thoughts with the little one regarding the wisdom of going to sleep and D’Veidh squealing in glee and informing him (mentally) that he had other ideas. Finally, the young one was tucked into a crib that resembled, according to Patrick, a crib from a nightmare, and as Aros began to sing softly, D’Veidh’s eyelids grew heavy, drooped a time or two, and finally closed.

“Oh, it’s like sweet, sweet music, the nothingness I’m hearing now,” he muttered as he lay on his bunk tossing small throwing knives into the ceiling. “I don’t think I could have taken much more of that bullshit.”

A laugh sounded outside his door and Aros looked in. He watched as another knife lodged in the ceiling.

“Improving the decor, Nick?”

Nick scowled. “Just trying to keep myself occupied while on this shitten planet.” He reached for another knife. He was out. The knives were fifteen feet above him. “Fuck.”

‘I’ll get them. Move your feet over.” Aros hopped up on the bed and began to reach for the knives. “If all goes according to plan, this’ll be done in another few days and we can hit the road. I know Commander Leroy will be more glad than you.”

“Don’t be so sure about that,” Nick grumbled. He stood and watched while Aros looked like an idiot bouncing up and down to get the knives. He couldn’t help but laugh.

Aros joined in his laughter. “That’s better.” He jumped and grabbed the last knife, which he flipped over expertly, the point landing on his finger, then he flipped it to Nick. “Enjoy.”

“If you ever get bored, Aros, I know some people in the circus who could use you.”

“Gee thanks,” he laughed. “Kh’ali didn’t hire me for my good looks you know.” He settled in a chair near the bed. “How you think she’s doing out there targ hunting?”

“A hell of a lot better than Patrick’s doing...doing whatever it is he’s...doing?” He shook his head. “Doing doing doing. Damn. I’m losing my mind here. I really thought something would happen that I could get into.”

“I suspect when Patrick wake up in the morning, he’s going to feel worse than Kh’ali’s dead targs,” Aros answered. He rose from the chair and stretched. “Now that the sprout is asleep, I’m getting something to eat. You want anything?”

“Mmmmm. Steak! A potato, a hamburger and some alcohol!” He turned to Aros with a smile. “Did I mention that I eat when I’m bored?” He shrugged. “I’m pretty goddamn bored right now.”

“I couldn’t tell.” Aros’ tone was dry. “Alright, sounds good, actually. Give me a bit and get out here and entertain me while I cook.” He left Nick’s room and strolled out to the kitchen and began to pull out the food. A noise outside caught his attention and he trotted off to the baby’s room. Everything there seemed quiet and so he returned to his cooking.

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To be continued...