IKC FHew 7C6110
In the belly of the Whale – The Errand Girl...
by HoD Ro' Matlh & Eredh Hay'legh
Post Details
“Fradt faelirh ch’susse-thrai Klivan!”, Hay’legh could not help but mutter as she made her way through the station to where Ambassador Hataq Malth’s offices were supposed to be.
She had had trouble at every step to get here – the port Authority, customs, numerous Starfleet lackeys, and now stares from every man and his tribble as she stalked along the walkways and corridors….It was as if they had never seen a Rihannsu before. Admittedly she did wear her hair long unlike the rest of the Rihannsu naehna, and she was not in standard uniform. That should not matter... but they still looked at her as if they were afraid she would start a fully armed conflict right there in front of them. And it did not help her mood that the only reason she had gotten this far was the fact that she was listed on the Ambassadors embassy staff….
As soon as the door to the Ambassadors offices came into sight, Hay’legh stormed through and stalked up to the desk where one of the Klingon Ambassador’s lackeys was working.
“I am here to inform Hataq Malth that her uncle Ro’Malth has arrived. And he now awaits the pleasure of her company.”
Vartog raised his head, taking his good time about it. “And you would be....whom?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “Whoever you are, you’re a disgrace to your uniform. I’m not sure which one it’s supposed to be – Rhiannsu or Klingon – but either way, it appears to me that style is more of interest to you than respect for the traditions and honour bound to a uniform. You seem to forget it’s more than a piece of clothing.”
Hay'legh cocked an eyebrow. "I don't give a Hta'Dua, what you think. I was told to deliver a message. I have and now I am leaving." She turned to go.
“I see,” Vartog said quietly. “I suppose you expect me to deliver it. I repeat; you would be...whom? I do not take orders from people who just march into my presence and make bald statements. If you want me to take a message to Madame Ambassadress, you will – at the very least – present some form of identification. We will see where we can go from there.”
She had reached the door as Vartog finished speaking. "You don't need to know who I am. Just that your life will not be worth living if Ro'Matlh has to come here himself. He is not the type of man you would want to annoy."
“And if Ro’Matlh has to come here himself, your life won’t be worth living either. The choice is yours. This has all been recorded – recordings which Madame Ambassadress will have access to. Don’t rely on them being made available to her...uncle, did you say?
Hay'legh actually smiled. "Ro'Matlh has already tried to end mine on several occassions and as yet has not succeeded, one day he may get lucky - or I will."
The door opened and Hay'legh was almost bowled over as a giant of a Klingon woman stormed into the room swearing loudly in Klingon. She hurled a stone mug and metal drinking flask against a wall to emphasise her point. The exact words were unclear but Hay'legh picked up enough to realise she was not ahppy about something to do with the CTO of the station.
"And what do YOU want?", Haqtaj switched to English, rounding on the Romulan Officer. The family resembelance was unmistakable.
As was the smell....But Hay'legh drew herself up to her full height; she was only a few inches shy of being six feet but Hataq still towered over her. Why do Klingons never worry about dental hygiene? she thought as the Ambassador's breath washed over her. But she kept her reaction to herself, Hataq Malth is a Klingon but from what Hay'legh had heard, she was still a woman to be respected.
"I am Thei'khaiell ssuin hw'aenevha, the Executive Officer of the IKC F'Hew. I have come to inform you that your uncle Ro'Malth has arrived with your support ship."
Haqtaj's demeanour changed instantly, "Uncle Ro' is here? I didn't think they'd send him, but who else? Wait there."
Haqtaj moved quickly to her desk and selected a few sheets of paper, "Hay'Legh was it? You're new."
Hay'legh inwardly groaned. Another who refuses to call her by her correct name. It seems she was stuck with that abomination of a Klingon nick name that Ro had given her - shall we duel? Hummphf.
"I have been assigned to work with Ro'Matlh. I have now been with him three months."
"Knowing HoD Ro' he will already be racking up a bill with no idea how to pay it, so I have arranged some jobs that pay in advance. There are two passengers, a Romulan Merchant and a Bajoran Ambassador. Both want to return to Romulan space. I have spoken to the Romulan Ambassador here and he has cleared one ship to go to the Morach colony, which is just on the inside of the Federation/Romulan Neutral Zone. The trade is the ship has to carry a shipment of medical supplies, Immunity boosters. Apparantly a Vulcan Doctor has been working on a cure for some Romulan Plague."
Hay'legh raised an eyebrow, unaware of just how much like a Vulcan it made her look, concidering that genetically her family was one that did not have brow ridges like others of her kind.
Haqtaj hands the sheets over, "The details are all there. They are keen to get under way. Apparently the military build up at the station is making them uneasy. Tell Ro' I will talk to him when he get's back. I have an errant Klingon to... re-educate. Qapla!"
"Yes Ambassador." Hay'legh takes the papers and snapped Hataq a Rihannsu salute.
Vartog stood. He knew his cue when he heard it. “Thei’khaiell ssuin hw’aenevha, I need your identification.” His voice was still quiet and measured but it had softened. A Klingon would pick the difference – would a Rhiannsu do so? If she was worth her salt on a Klingon vessel she would – that is, if this was not all just bluster....
“Base regulations require it. If you do not provide identification then I will call Security. Better yet, as I am still Master-at-Arms for this base and a brig officer, I’ll just escort you to the brig. The choice is yours. Either you comply or you put your mission in jeopardy. Not, I would suggest, a good way to start given the close relationship between your commanding officer and mine.
Haqtaj is surprised at the skill with which Vartog used the difficult Romulan tongue. He nods to Hay'legh, "Do it. He is quite serious and I have come to trust him."
Hay'legh stared first at Hataq and then moved her gaze to Vartog. She was surprised...though she did not show it. This was the last person she had expected to hear the curtesy of her name, though the pronunciation of her family name was a little stilted. "Of course - if base regulations require it." She produced an identification chip and handed it across to Vartog.
Vartog processed the chip and handed it back.
After the Romulan left Haqtaj turned back to Vartog, "While the fleet is away I am going to look into Ms Mason's Personal File. Get it for me. If it is restricted let me know and I will use a special access key I planeted on their Database when they were all distracted by the De Vour situation. Until then... I'm going shopping."
"No."
Haqtaj stopped at the door. She turned slowly to look at Vartog, "No, I am not going shopping, or no you won't get me the file?"
“No, I won’t get you the file. With respect, Madame Ambassadress, I am a Starfleet officer. Unless you can give me a very good reason, I will not get you anyone’s file. To do so would be to betray my honour as a member of this crew and, equally importantly – in case you misconstrue my response – as a Klingon.”
Haqtaj nodded, "I accept your reason and withdraw the order. You will decline to alert the Federation of the Security Code. Obviously I can be trusted not to miss use it."
by HoD Ro' Matlh & Eredh Hay'legh
Post Details
| Title | The Errand Girl... | |
| Mission | In the belly of the Whale | |
| Author(s) | HoD Ro' Matlh & Eredh Hay'legh | |
| Posted | Tue Feb 09, 2010 @ 12:15pm | |
| Location | Haqtaj's Office | |
| Timeline | 15 minutes after docking at SB 611 |
She had had trouble at every step to get here – the port Authority, customs, numerous Starfleet lackeys, and now stares from every man and his tribble as she stalked along the walkways and corridors….It was as if they had never seen a Rihannsu before. Admittedly she did wear her hair long unlike the rest of the Rihannsu naehna, and she was not in standard uniform. That should not matter... but they still looked at her as if they were afraid she would start a fully armed conflict right there in front of them. And it did not help her mood that the only reason she had gotten this far was the fact that she was listed on the Ambassadors embassy staff….
As soon as the door to the Ambassadors offices came into sight, Hay’legh stormed through and stalked up to the desk where one of the Klingon Ambassador’s lackeys was working.
“I am here to inform Hataq Malth that her uncle Ro’Malth has arrived. And he now awaits the pleasure of her company.”
Vartog raised his head, taking his good time about it. “And you would be....whom?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “Whoever you are, you’re a disgrace to your uniform. I’m not sure which one it’s supposed to be – Rhiannsu or Klingon – but either way, it appears to me that style is more of interest to you than respect for the traditions and honour bound to a uniform. You seem to forget it’s more than a piece of clothing.”
Hay'legh cocked an eyebrow. "I don't give a Hta'Dua, what you think. I was told to deliver a message. I have and now I am leaving." She turned to go.
“I see,” Vartog said quietly. “I suppose you expect me to deliver it. I repeat; you would be...whom? I do not take orders from people who just march into my presence and make bald statements. If you want me to take a message to Madame Ambassadress, you will – at the very least – present some form of identification. We will see where we can go from there.”
She had reached the door as Vartog finished speaking. "You don't need to know who I am. Just that your life will not be worth living if Ro'Matlh has to come here himself. He is not the type of man you would want to annoy."
“And if Ro’Matlh has to come here himself, your life won’t be worth living either. The choice is yours. This has all been recorded – recordings which Madame Ambassadress will have access to. Don’t rely on them being made available to her...uncle, did you say?
Hay'legh actually smiled. "Ro'Matlh has already tried to end mine on several occassions and as yet has not succeeded, one day he may get lucky - or I will."
The door opened and Hay'legh was almost bowled over as a giant of a Klingon woman stormed into the room swearing loudly in Klingon. She hurled a stone mug and metal drinking flask against a wall to emphasise her point. The exact words were unclear but Hay'legh picked up enough to realise she was not ahppy about something to do with the CTO of the station.
"And what do YOU want?", Haqtaj switched to English, rounding on the Romulan Officer. The family resembelance was unmistakable.
As was the smell....But Hay'legh drew herself up to her full height; she was only a few inches shy of being six feet but Hataq still towered over her. Why do Klingons never worry about dental hygiene? she thought as the Ambassador's breath washed over her. But she kept her reaction to herself, Hataq Malth is a Klingon but from what Hay'legh had heard, she was still a woman to be respected.
"I am Thei'khaiell ssuin hw'aenevha, the Executive Officer of the IKC F'Hew. I have come to inform you that your uncle Ro'Malth has arrived with your support ship."
Haqtaj's demeanour changed instantly, "Uncle Ro' is here? I didn't think they'd send him, but who else? Wait there."
Haqtaj moved quickly to her desk and selected a few sheets of paper, "Hay'Legh was it? You're new."
Hay'legh inwardly groaned. Another who refuses to call her by her correct name. It seems she was stuck with that abomination of a Klingon nick name that Ro had given her - shall we duel? Hummphf.
"I have been assigned to work with Ro'Matlh. I have now been with him three months."
"Knowing HoD Ro' he will already be racking up a bill with no idea how to pay it, so I have arranged some jobs that pay in advance. There are two passengers, a Romulan Merchant and a Bajoran Ambassador. Both want to return to Romulan space. I have spoken to the Romulan Ambassador here and he has cleared one ship to go to the Morach colony, which is just on the inside of the Federation/Romulan Neutral Zone. The trade is the ship has to carry a shipment of medical supplies, Immunity boosters. Apparantly a Vulcan Doctor has been working on a cure for some Romulan Plague."
Hay'legh raised an eyebrow, unaware of just how much like a Vulcan it made her look, concidering that genetically her family was one that did not have brow ridges like others of her kind.
Haqtaj hands the sheets over, "The details are all there. They are keen to get under way. Apparently the military build up at the station is making them uneasy. Tell Ro' I will talk to him when he get's back. I have an errant Klingon to... re-educate. Qapla!"
"Yes Ambassador." Hay'legh takes the papers and snapped Hataq a Rihannsu salute.
Vartog stood. He knew his cue when he heard it. “Thei’khaiell ssuin hw’aenevha, I need your identification.” His voice was still quiet and measured but it had softened. A Klingon would pick the difference – would a Rhiannsu do so? If she was worth her salt on a Klingon vessel she would – that is, if this was not all just bluster....
“Base regulations require it. If you do not provide identification then I will call Security. Better yet, as I am still Master-at-Arms for this base and a brig officer, I’ll just escort you to the brig. The choice is yours. Either you comply or you put your mission in jeopardy. Not, I would suggest, a good way to start given the close relationship between your commanding officer and mine.
Haqtaj is surprised at the skill with which Vartog used the difficult Romulan tongue. He nods to Hay'legh, "Do it. He is quite serious and I have come to trust him."
Hay'legh stared first at Hataq and then moved her gaze to Vartog. She was surprised...though she did not show it. This was the last person she had expected to hear the curtesy of her name, though the pronunciation of her family name was a little stilted. "Of course - if base regulations require it." She produced an identification chip and handed it across to Vartog.
Vartog processed the chip and handed it back.
After the Romulan left Haqtaj turned back to Vartog, "While the fleet is away I am going to look into Ms Mason's Personal File. Get it for me. If it is restricted let me know and I will use a special access key I planeted on their Database when they were all distracted by the De Vour situation. Until then... I'm going shopping."
"No."
Haqtaj stopped at the door. She turned slowly to look at Vartog, "No, I am not going shopping, or no you won't get me the file?"
“No, I won’t get you the file. With respect, Madame Ambassadress, I am a Starfleet officer. Unless you can give me a very good reason, I will not get you anyone’s file. To do so would be to betray my honour as a member of this crew and, equally importantly – in case you misconstrue my response – as a Klingon.”
Haqtaj nodded, "I accept your reason and withdraw the order. You will decline to alert the Federation of the Security Code. Obviously I can be trusted not to miss use it."