IKC FHew 7C6110
Re-born – Starting Over... Again!!!
by Sogh Germite Ephilom & HoD Ro' Matlh
Post Details
Germite woke up. He didn't know where he was. He did know that he was hung over. "Gotta lay off the whiskey," he thought to himself. It was dark in his...he looked around him. It definitely wasn't a hotel room. It was a small cell. He wondered if he was in jail. It wouldn't be the first time. He wondered what he had done this time. It didn't really matter. He would pay a fine or serve whatever time he had to serve, then he would be out of jail and looking for work, again. It seemed like a vicious cycle. He'd find a good contract. Everything would be going along great, then he'd wake up in a gutter or a jail cell or somewhere even worse. He'd have to get himself out of whatever situation he found elf. Then it was off to find the next job.
Germite realized that his mind was wandering, "Back to the relevant facts. Where am I? and Why am I here." He sat up on his cot. No shakles or restraints. That at least was good. The cot was just a cot, nothing remarkable. The room was dimly lit, no obvious facilities. That ruled out a jail cell, well, it at least ruled out a civilized jail. He stood up. The thudding in his head increased. His eyes blurred and he sat down again. He rubbed his head and wondered what it was that he had drank the previous night. Another thought occurred to him, he could have been unconscious for more than one night. He steadied himself. Germite walked over to the door. Nothing happened. He looked around for a panel to activate the door, still nothing. His options were exhausted. At least for the present. He decided to do the only thing he could. He laid back down on the cot to wait.
After a while there was a scrape at the door and it swung outwards. A Klingon stepped through with a plate of food. He thrust the plate towards Germite.
Germite took the plate from the Klingon. It wasn't his favorite food, but he had learned long ago that food you may not like was better than no food at all. "Thank you." He thought for a moment to find the correct word in Klingon. " tlho' SoH."
"Qathlho'," the other corrected.
Another pause. "Why am I here?" He mentally translated it, "qatlh 'oH jIH naDev."
The Klingon took a moment to work out what he was trying to say. "Speak English. It will be easier for both of us. You took a fall when the K't'inga crash landed through the three tanks. We found you amongst the wreckage after the fight settled," the Klingon offered in a gruff manner.
He nodded, he couldn't remember the last conflict in which he had been fighting. "Where are we? How long was I unconscious?"
"You're still on LamDoq. You've been out for days. You are lucky there were some alien medics here and House Matlh has a reputation for Medicine among my people. What do you remember?"
Germite thought for a moment, "Not a whole lot. My team had been hired to fight in some engagement, I wasn't told the specifics. I think it was some sort of blood feud."
"Then to bring you up to speed. CoQ is no longer head of House Matlh. He was killed by Ro', who was in turn challenged by YIghegh, who is now Head of Matlh. I won't bore you with the family politics involved. Short version is, The Red army is being disbanded and the fleet re-instated. Most of the grunts have already been shipped off. Seems YIghegh was very interested when he heard about you, which is why he kept you around. When you are up to it, I have been told to take you to him.
If the Klingons had wanted him dead, they wouldn't have expended any resources to save him, so he at least had that in his favor. Germite nodded. "There's no time like the present."
The Klingon pushed open the door again and lead the way out. What Germite had taken for a cell he could now see was some sort of small dormitory, with others like it along the corridor. He was led outside into oppressive heat. Around him he saw a massive compound that seemed to serve as a trade port and marshalling yard. Many low buildings sat near the edges of a wide tarmac space. The red dust of the local sands puffed up with every step and clung to the legs like dry clay.
The pair crossed the baking hot tarmac and came to a larger building that looked like some sort of administration block. Inside Germite was led up some stairs and past many rooms set up for planning campaigns. At the end of the corridor they came to a door guarded by a pair of Klingons in ceremonial armour.
"Nuq malja'" One of them demanded, blocking the door.
"Qel'e vIqemlaH mura'" The other responded. Germite tried desperately to translate in his head. something about doctor's orders, perhaps. Regardless the pair were let through to a large office where a relatively young Klingon was pouring over a plan of the local area of space and a pile of PADDs. He glanced up when he saw the two enter and waved Germite's escort away.
"I am Chancellor YIghegh, head of House Matlh. Have you been given something to eat and drink?"
"Yes, I have been treated properly. I am curious about your interest in me. I would have thought that the head of the House Matlh would have more important business to attend to than to speak with a soldier that was on the losing side."
"You are Germite Ephilom. I understand you were hired on as a medic for the Red Army under Chancellor Coq? You have medical experience?"
That made a certain amount of sense. Medics were rare in the service of Klingons. "Yes, I am a trained battlefield medic."
"You are in luck, human. The former Red army is being disbanded and, had you been with any other house, you would probably have been sent packing, if not executed as a traitor to the current House leader. Fortunately for you, House Matlh has a special understanding regarding medicine and its place in the wider world. My grandfather Matlh was head of a Hospital on the homeworld. He treated many of the heads of Council and won much renown, while my grandmother led our fleets in battle."
"My father, loDni', was a very wise man, and he saw that having a medic on a ship who could heal injured Klingons, could bring them back to fighting fit. Many felt it would encourage weakness, if we were to pander to the weak. What do you think, Human?"
"I think injured warriors get back to fighting a lot faster if there's a medic around to patch them up rather than taking their chances on healing on their own. How many warriors do you lose to infection and other complications after a battle?"
"Officially?" YIghegh responded, "None. Klingon warriors do not die of disease. It is not uncommon for a warrior to terminate themselves if they are critically injured in battle. Far better for their family to believe they died from an enemy weapon than from a bug so small it cannot be seen. Fortunately, we are very resilient to most infections and diseases common for other species. In the Empire, a medic's job is usually to get a warrior on their feet long enough to die at their post. I have seen warriors, bleeding from stomach wounds, held up for 3 hours by a medic so it could be said they died at their post, not in a sick bed. "
"I took service on my Great Uncles ship, the FHew. Have you heard of HoD Ro'? A shame. There was a time when his tactics were standard training in the Klingon academy at least. Getting a place on his ship was a coup. Many will kill for that opportunity. But in the years I served on there, I noticed one thing Ro' did not have. A medic."
"Oh, there is HIchop, a former orderly from the Hospital. He knows how to set bones and has learned how to hold a Federation dermal regenerator, but he has no real medical training. he would be lost trying to fight a disease, or performing surgery."
"So, I have a ship that could use a Doctor, and you have no job."
Germite knew several things. First, he knew that was it not for YIghegh, he would likely be dead. He didn't think that Klingons had life debts, but he knew that he in fact owed YIghegh. Second, YIghegh was the head of a Klingon House at a young age. It wouldn't do to disappoint him or anger him, especially not when Germite was in such a vulnerable position. Last, Germite didn't have anybody or anything waiting for him and service as a medic aboard a Klingon ship would definitely keep him busy. "That sounds like a good idea."
YIghegh moved to the table and poured two glasses of water. He brought them over and offered one to Germite. "Ro' is on his way to Qo'nos now to collect more crew. I will make the introductions. If you impress him, the job is yours. If not... I may still be able to find a place for you at the Hospital, but I doubt you will last long there. What do you think?"
"I would be honored to serve the House Matlh."
YIghegh raised his glass, "We drink, then I will put you on a transport for Qo'nos. When we get there find the FHew, and make contact with the first officer, Tell. She is a Human as well. IF she does not kill you herself, there is a good chance she will help you to impress Ro'. I will let him know you are coming."
by Sogh Germite Ephilom & HoD Ro' Matlh
Post Details
| Title | Starting Over... Again!!! | |
| Mission | Re-born | |
| Author(s) | Sogh Germite Ephilom & HoD Ro' Matlh | |
| Posted | Mon Apr 16, 2012 @ 3:29am | |
| Location | LamDoq | |
| Timeline | During the Borg skirmish |
Germite realized that his mind was wandering, "Back to the relevant facts. Where am I? and Why am I here." He sat up on his cot. No shakles or restraints. That at least was good. The cot was just a cot, nothing remarkable. The room was dimly lit, no obvious facilities. That ruled out a jail cell, well, it at least ruled out a civilized jail. He stood up. The thudding in his head increased. His eyes blurred and he sat down again. He rubbed his head and wondered what it was that he had drank the previous night. Another thought occurred to him, he could have been unconscious for more than one night. He steadied himself. Germite walked over to the door. Nothing happened. He looked around for a panel to activate the door, still nothing. His options were exhausted. At least for the present. He decided to do the only thing he could. He laid back down on the cot to wait.
After a while there was a scrape at the door and it swung outwards. A Klingon stepped through with a plate of food. He thrust the plate towards Germite.
Germite took the plate from the Klingon. It wasn't his favorite food, but he had learned long ago that food you may not like was better than no food at all. "Thank you." He thought for a moment to find the correct word in Klingon. " tlho' SoH."
"Qathlho'," the other corrected.
Another pause. "Why am I here?" He mentally translated it, "qatlh 'oH jIH naDev."
The Klingon took a moment to work out what he was trying to say. "Speak English. It will be easier for both of us. You took a fall when the K't'inga crash landed through the three tanks. We found you amongst the wreckage after the fight settled," the Klingon offered in a gruff manner.
He nodded, he couldn't remember the last conflict in which he had been fighting. "Where are we? How long was I unconscious?"
"You're still on LamDoq. You've been out for days. You are lucky there were some alien medics here and House Matlh has a reputation for Medicine among my people. What do you remember?"
Germite thought for a moment, "Not a whole lot. My team had been hired to fight in some engagement, I wasn't told the specifics. I think it was some sort of blood feud."
"Then to bring you up to speed. CoQ is no longer head of House Matlh. He was killed by Ro', who was in turn challenged by YIghegh, who is now Head of Matlh. I won't bore you with the family politics involved. Short version is, The Red army is being disbanded and the fleet re-instated. Most of the grunts have already been shipped off. Seems YIghegh was very interested when he heard about you, which is why he kept you around. When you are up to it, I have been told to take you to him.
If the Klingons had wanted him dead, they wouldn't have expended any resources to save him, so he at least had that in his favor. Germite nodded. "There's no time like the present."
The Klingon pushed open the door again and lead the way out. What Germite had taken for a cell he could now see was some sort of small dormitory, with others like it along the corridor. He was led outside into oppressive heat. Around him he saw a massive compound that seemed to serve as a trade port and marshalling yard. Many low buildings sat near the edges of a wide tarmac space. The red dust of the local sands puffed up with every step and clung to the legs like dry clay.
The pair crossed the baking hot tarmac and came to a larger building that looked like some sort of administration block. Inside Germite was led up some stairs and past many rooms set up for planning campaigns. At the end of the corridor they came to a door guarded by a pair of Klingons in ceremonial armour.
"Nuq malja'" One of them demanded, blocking the door.
"Qel'e vIqemlaH mura'" The other responded. Germite tried desperately to translate in his head. something about doctor's orders, perhaps. Regardless the pair were let through to a large office where a relatively young Klingon was pouring over a plan of the local area of space and a pile of PADDs. He glanced up when he saw the two enter and waved Germite's escort away.
"I am Chancellor YIghegh, head of House Matlh. Have you been given something to eat and drink?"
"Yes, I have been treated properly. I am curious about your interest in me. I would have thought that the head of the House Matlh would have more important business to attend to than to speak with a soldier that was on the losing side."
"You are Germite Ephilom. I understand you were hired on as a medic for the Red Army under Chancellor Coq? You have medical experience?"
That made a certain amount of sense. Medics were rare in the service of Klingons. "Yes, I am a trained battlefield medic."
"You are in luck, human. The former Red army is being disbanded and, had you been with any other house, you would probably have been sent packing, if not executed as a traitor to the current House leader. Fortunately for you, House Matlh has a special understanding regarding medicine and its place in the wider world. My grandfather Matlh was head of a Hospital on the homeworld. He treated many of the heads of Council and won much renown, while my grandmother led our fleets in battle."
"My father, loDni', was a very wise man, and he saw that having a medic on a ship who could heal injured Klingons, could bring them back to fighting fit. Many felt it would encourage weakness, if we were to pander to the weak. What do you think, Human?"
"I think injured warriors get back to fighting a lot faster if there's a medic around to patch them up rather than taking their chances on healing on their own. How many warriors do you lose to infection and other complications after a battle?"
"Officially?" YIghegh responded, "None. Klingon warriors do not die of disease. It is not uncommon for a warrior to terminate themselves if they are critically injured in battle. Far better for their family to believe they died from an enemy weapon than from a bug so small it cannot be seen. Fortunately, we are very resilient to most infections and diseases common for other species. In the Empire, a medic's job is usually to get a warrior on their feet long enough to die at their post. I have seen warriors, bleeding from stomach wounds, held up for 3 hours by a medic so it could be said they died at their post, not in a sick bed. "
"I took service on my Great Uncles ship, the FHew. Have you heard of HoD Ro'? A shame. There was a time when his tactics were standard training in the Klingon academy at least. Getting a place on his ship was a coup. Many will kill for that opportunity. But in the years I served on there, I noticed one thing Ro' did not have. A medic."
"Oh, there is HIchop, a former orderly from the Hospital. He knows how to set bones and has learned how to hold a Federation dermal regenerator, but he has no real medical training. he would be lost trying to fight a disease, or performing surgery."
"So, I have a ship that could use a Doctor, and you have no job."
Germite knew several things. First, he knew that was it not for YIghegh, he would likely be dead. He didn't think that Klingons had life debts, but he knew that he in fact owed YIghegh. Second, YIghegh was the head of a Klingon House at a young age. It wouldn't do to disappoint him or anger him, especially not when Germite was in such a vulnerable position. Last, Germite didn't have anybody or anything waiting for him and service as a medic aboard a Klingon ship would definitely keep him busy. "That sounds like a good idea."
YIghegh moved to the table and poured two glasses of water. He brought them over and offered one to Germite. "Ro' is on his way to Qo'nos now to collect more crew. I will make the introductions. If you impress him, the job is yours. If not... I may still be able to find a place for you at the Hospital, but I doubt you will last long there. What do you think?"
"I would be honored to serve the House Matlh."
YIghegh raised his glass, "We drink, then I will put you on a transport for Qo'nos. When we get there find the FHew, and make contact with the first officer, Tell. She is a Human as well. IF she does not kill you herself, there is a good chance she will help you to impress Ro'. I will let him know you are coming."