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Left Behind: Ila and the Klingons

Posted on Fri Oct 11th, 2019 @ 11:34am by Petty Officer 2nd Class Ila Dedjoy & Petty Officer 3rd Class S'Rina Wil'I'Ams & Petty Officer 3rd Class V'Nus Wil'I'Ams
Edited on on Mon Oct 28th, 2019 @ 9:56am

Mission: Family Detention
Location: The Intel Pod
Timeline: 2396

The Klingon security sisters of the USS Hera, Petty Officers V’Nus and S’Rina Wil’I’Ams, were not happy.
When they discovered that Lieutenant Dox and her mother had been kidnapped by the duplicitous Tal’Shiar, they had both anticipated being involved in the rescue. While the Dox’s were Romulan, the Lieutenant helped train much of the Security team in hand-to-hand combat techniques and they both enjoyed both sparring with the unexpectedly honorable woman. Both fought alongside her in battle.

That said, Dox was the exception to the rule regarding Romulans, as far as the Sisters were concerned, and they were quite looking forward to meting out some vengeance upon the Romulans that stole their Romulans. But the mission to Romulus was to be an undercover affair, and they were determined to be unsuitable for the more subtle duty. As such, they were left behind on the increasingly dull starship. And they were both itching for some action.

So when the call came in for security assistance up in the Hera’s secretive and mysterious pod, the two Klingon warriors all but knocked other security officers out of the way to take the assignment. In the turbolift, they were all but ready to burst out of their skins, weapons at the ready, hoping for something worthy of their attention.

“Sister, dare we hope some dread experiment is running amok, rending the feeble scientists asunder?” The taller and leaner V’Nus said with a smirk of anticipation. She was generally the calmer and more reserved of the two, but she was still Klingon, thus still bristling in their more calm duties.

“I would do battle with only tooth and claw at this point, sister. My blood burns for vengeance and my hands ache to do harm. Let us pray to Kahless that the scientists have stumbled across something Man Was Not Meant To Know, so it can meet its end at Klingon hands,” S’Rina growled, her frustration at their inaction having grown far past the point of irritability.

"This day, I would join you in that prayer gladly." V'Nus replied as they were scanned by the security system of the lift and cleared for entry into the Hera's pod. Once cleared, they quickly made their way to the labs of Yeoman Ila Dedjoy, phasers ready and anticipation on their faces, hoping for the worst. And as they got closer, there came a series of strange sounds from behind the closed doors. A Series of trilling, mechanical chirps, and loud bangs.

At the door, V'Nus entered her security override code, met her sister's eyes and slammed on the pad to open the door as both women drew their weapons and entered the lab with military precision, sweeping arcs of perception about the room. As they did, V'Nus' face went wide and the blood all but drained from her face as she cursed, "BaQa'!"

"Oh thank goodness! The perfect pair responded to my request!" Yeoman Ila Dedjoy was up on a bench with a fluid soaked patch wrapped around one hand doing her best to stay as far away from the half a dozen pregnant looking, one meter round, tribbles slowly rolling around the room. Each one had a few dark metal plates and tube-like structures that almost made them look Borgified.

"Here's your SITREP. They consume energy at an alarming rate and eat inorganic materials like the deck and me. Containment failed as they just absorbed the force field. Phasers just burn off the fur and feed them. A nullification field barely slowed them down." Ila took a deep breath and prepared for the kicker. "And they're each pregnant with at least fifty more."

Taking a slight step back, with her weapon still raised, V'Nus shouted at Dedjoy as the techno-organic Tribbles seemed to turn slightly towards the door, if tribbles had heads. "Where did these... things... come from? Did you MAKE them?!"

"They can't be contained by forcefields? They cannot be stopped with phasers? They eat everything and must be stopped?" Petty Officer S'Rina looked to the overhead as tears streamed down her face. "Kahless has answered my prayers this day." Flicking her wrists, the Klingon warrior gazed at the Tribbles lovingly as a mek'leth appeared in each hand. Closing the door with the pommel of her weapon, S'Rina of a house whose name could not be spoken smiled, a terrible, fearsome smile.

"Today is a good day for all of you to die."

As one, the tribbles screamed in that high=pitched warbling their race was known for, gave birth, and began rolling toward the Klingons- the one race in the universe Tribbles hated. They would even let a Gorn pet them if it fed them and did not eat them, which had led to Gorn restaurants and lounges offering that very thing. But in the present moment, the Tribbles were moving in on the Klingon warriors.

Tribbles that could eat everything- matter, energy... Klingons.

Turning to look at her more aggressive sister, V'Nus spared a smile in the moment, quite ready to join in the fray herself. "Sister, armor up. We must be at peak efficiency to ensure none of these creatures escape this room or harm anyone beyond. Yeoman, stay where you are..."

"This will be... messy." the leaner of the two sisters held her own arms out and flexed as her own preferred Bat'leth appeared in her hands and her EVA armor enveloped her from the mystical bracers on her wrists.

“I need no armor for this!” the sturdier of the two women declared, pointed teeth bared as she leapt in to begin carving up the furry abominations, cutting two in half quite messily and with a grinding that meant her blades were likely going to have nicks in them when she finished today. Nicks well earned, fighting the scourge of the Klingon Empire. “wo’ batlhvaD!!!”

Looking at the Yeoman's hand and the large chunks that have already been taken out of half the pieces of very sturdy metal equipment in the lab, V'Nus was not so eager to make it easy for these monstrosities to make a snack out of her. Still, she couldn't quite restrain her own excitement for this particular assignment. Raising her Bat'leth into a battle-ready position, she leapt across the room into the middle of the fray with a warrior's roar. "GRAAAAAGH!!!! To whatever hell you abominations call home!!!!"

With a swing of her weapon, she cleaved the first group of creatures in half with a spray of strange fluids and sparks. But three others had already spawned new Techno-Tribbles and more still began shuddering as they were about to do the same. The more controlled of the two kicked one of the smaller up in the air, and swinging her blade in a backhanded swipe, cleaved it in pieces like a batter would hit a baseball. As she did, more fluids sprayed wildly across the room soaking Dedjoy's legs and flying across her maddened sister's face.

The twin blades flashed as S’Rina moved, a low growl emanating from her as she stabbed, cleaved, slashed and even bludgeoned the obnoxious trilling parasites, slaughtering as many as she could come into c9ontactr with. Their juicy furry bodies gooshed as they perished, even as the survivors worked on reproducing faster, intuitively understanding that their only advantage was strength in numbers.

As well as consumption, as one managed the short hop from the counter onto S’Rina’s back, where it took a quarter-sized divit of flesh out of her, uniform and all, even as another bit through her shoe, claiming her big toe as a meal. Growling louder. S’ria stomped the life out of the toebiter, even as she flicked the one off her back with her blade.

“Perhaps armor is not the worst of ideas, sister,” S’Rina grudgingly admitted as she clad herself in her EVA armor, the standard black and white model, but with the Klingon Empire symbol on one the left shoulder pad in addition to the ‘twin tower’ Starfleet delta on the chest. It had been approved by the Commander, so she wore it with pride, even though they were not of the Empire, their family name long since stricken. But the sisters were proud of their heritage, and it showed.

Smirking as she jabbed down, impaling two Tribbles straight through that were trying to climb each other to get at the taller of the two women, V'Nus replied with a grin in her voice, "Indeed. The better protected we are, the more of these things we can KILL for longer, sister!"

Then V'Nus stepped back and did a count of the creatures and scowled slightly. "Sister! We have slain 8 of these in total, and there are now 12 more to contend with. They are reproducing too quickly. Some eating the remains of their comrades to fuel their spawnings. We may need to switch tactics."

Flipping her Bat'leth so that it magnetically fastened to the back of her armor, V'Nus flicked her wrist and her massive TR-116 Rifle appeared in her hands. "If energy weapons feed them, perhaps hollow-point, rapid-fire projectiles will be less appetizing. What say you?"

From the top of the table she was on, Dedjoy yelled, "NOOO!!! NO GUNS NOT IN THE PODDDDD!!!"

“Then we shall simply have to kill faster, sister. I have six- UHNGH! Seven… eight…” S’Rina continued muscling her way through slaughtering the rapidly reproducing rodents.

"Oh, very well." V'Nus sighed, flicking her wrist and making the rifle return to the bracers she wore on her wrists. "Then a challenge it shall remain. I shall have to endeavor to catch up, sister!"

Then, with a roar, V'Nus pulled her Bat'leth forward and lined up the tip of the blade with a row of Tribbles and barreled forward, impaling through four at once before slamming their corpses into the far wall. "NINE!"

In the history of warfare, both large and small, there have been a great many battles fought, and lives claimed. Seldom in the annals of Klingon history has there been an opponent more reviled, loathed and feared than the Tribbles, save for perhaps the Romulans. Seldom were songs sung round the fire of the Great Tribble Hunts, nor were there great accolades and honor to be gained. After all, the Klingons had decimated the homeworld of the Tribbles, and hunted the species nearly to extinction in the latter half of the 23rd century. But in the intel pod, on this day, a pair of Klingon warrior women acquitted themselves quite deftly, and murdered a full 39 techno tribbles, adapted to consume all forms of matter and energy.

What could have been a deadly infestation was now a gory, bloody mess.

Complete with two smiling, very satisfied Klingons.

“When you finish the autopsies, keep the pelts. We’ll want them,” S’Rina explained to the Captain’s yeoman. “It has been many decades since warriors claimed tribble scalps, and we wish to commemorate the honor. It is a... cultural matter,” S’Rina explained.

Nodding, V'Nus silently agreed as she picked up one of the drier corpses and wiped the fluids of the creatures off of her Bat'leth onto its fur.

Finally getting down from her workbench, Ila nodded solemnly, having expected them to make such a request. "I have an idea brewing in my head you might like. It's not exactly Starfleet issue... But if you like, I could fashion traditional Klingon battle robes from their pelts for each of you with a few surprises, if you're amenable." As she spoke, she picked up a scanner and checked over the bites in her hand, which were thankfully only superficial.

Turning to her sister, V'Nus raised an eyebrow and half-whispered. "I like the way this one thinks, Sister." Then she turned back to the wide-eyed inventor with a more professional expression. "I cannot speak for my sister, but I would be amenable to that, thank you. It would be a fitting prize, I would think. Is your injury severe? Do you require us to escort you to sickbay, Yeoman?"

"Oh no... I just need to replicate some new... I'll be ok. They didn't bite into anything important." Ila then set the scanner aside and gave them a slight grin. "So do you prefer a more Kahless era shoulder cloak, or the modern styling with all the regalia? Personally, I'm a fan of the high shouldered clean look that the females of Kahless' era wore. They're similar to the Principality Robes that those in my people's government wear, though ours are made from strands of toxic willow fronds rather than fur."

Grinning ear to ear, S’Rina completed one more circuit of the lab, scanner in hand, insuring that the only living things in the lab were Klingon or… whatever Dedjoy came up as, which was ‘technorganic’ according to the tricorder. Bowing slightly to the slender doll-eyed scientist, the Klingon warrior offered a surprising perspective. “Putting conditions and preferences to a gift of such a thing would be dishonorable. If you wish to reward us, we will accept your tribute as you see fit to offer it, and we will count our victories with the pelts of these p’tak vermin. Which we will wear with pride, for how many warriors alive today can make such a claim, that they saved a vessel from the likes of these?”

Feeling a bit of warrior's pride that had been absent for the last few months, V'Nus slapped her broader, more muscular sister on the back and let out a deep laugh. It was a sound that was a bit rarer for the more serious of the two, and a welcome sound. "Well said, sister! We look forward to your offering proudly, Yeoman Dedjoy. Now... this victory, I think, calls for Bloodwine! What say you both?"

The response was a groan. “You forget, Sister. We are Starfleet. Now there are incident reports to file, medical checkups, and the remainder of our duty shift to fulfil, if we are to be honorable. Now, after that…” the muscular Klingon woman grinned, a sight that was not welcoming nor reassuring in any culture, given her mein. “Oh yes, there will be bloodwine and songs. What say you, Yeoman? Will you join us in such celebration of our victory?”

"I will regretfully have to decline. Alcohol no longer agrees with me." Ila did her best to look disappointed, but offered at least a peace offering. "However, as Yeoman, I can authorize the use of the captain's stock of bloodwine for the occasion. She has a case of 2309 in storage on deck 8 for diplomatic events. I would say this more than qualifies. Just... Try not to drink it all."

"Q'APLA!" roared the Klingon warriors, even as the slender scientist joined in. This day would be retold, and songs would be sung- of the day the USS Hera was saved from accursed Tribbles, by the Klingon warriors who lent their strength and honor to her.



 

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