IKC FHew 7C6110
Cabin Fever – Centre Stage
by Soghla' Marie St. Helene & HoD Ro' Matlh
Post Details
Marie made no especial effort to catch Renko up. A few long strides was all it took.
The boy was speaking loudly and arrogantly, "I understand Cha'a' is Klingon for 'Big Torpedoes'. It is a pity I did not meet her, but look forward to getting my hands on your weapons bay."
As she drew level, Marie's left hand flew up and out, catching him on the side of the cheek. He dropped with a sickening thud.
Marie kept on walking. She had used only the heel of her palm and had admittedly caught him unawares but the brat was on his arse where he belonged. “You’re not keeping up,” she said. “You’ll have to do better than that.”
Renko stood up, incandescent with rage, "How dare you! I am Renko Steele!"
This was obviously supposed to impress Marie. Obviously this youth was used to people on the station treading very carefully around him, as he was the Commandant's son.
Marie looked up at the boy disdainfully then scanned him from top to bottom. “There’s an old Earth saying,” she said. “It runs along the lines of ‘Is that a pistol in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?’ I don’t even see a pistol, let alone any Cha'a'.”
She resumed walking.
“Need I remind you to keep up?” she called back. “You wouldn’t want your Klingon guest getting lost, now, would you?”
Renko was aghast. The sheer effrontery of the woman! His shocked face turned into a grin as he move up next to her, "Well, your people have a reputation for being blunt. You have spirit. Riding you might be passingly interesting, once you have learned proper respect."
Marie groaned inwardly. Obviously subtlety isn’t going to win him over. I’ll have to try a different approach.
"But I guess you have never had to deal with real men before, so you are to be forgiven."
Yes, definitely a different approach.
They stepped out into a large commerce area. It looked like a flea market on 'roids. Stalls filled every space there was a blank wall or stretch of floor not actually needed for walking. Crowds jostled and yelled at each other for the products that were changing hands. Marie's trader mind went wild. How she would love the opportunity to just shop here.
As Renko moved down the steps to the floor the crowds didn't exactly move, but found other things to be doing that weren't in his direct path. Renko was a Prince, but the dark looks his back got suggested he was not a popular one.
"See anything you like?" he asked, waving his hand nonchalantly.
“Tell you what,” she said, “I live up to your expectations and you finance my spending an hour here, just me and the traders. No other customers, just me and the traders.”
Renko looked at her as if she were stupid, but he looked at everyone like that, "The traders ARE the other customers. Besides, it will be far to easy for you to live up to my expectations. I expect very little from you. You are certainly not up to even my usual standards, but I take pity on you."
"Tell you what," he grinned like a cat who had sole access to all the best cream, "you pick a pretty bauble you like and I will let you keep it, once you have performed for me."
by Soghla' Marie St. Helene & HoD Ro' Matlh
Post Details
| Title | Centre Stage | |
| Mission | Cabin Fever | |
| Author(s) | Soghla' Marie St. Helene & HoD Ro' Matlh | |
| Posted | Fri Sep 18, 2015 @ 5:03am | |
| Location | The corridors of Moonfleet base |
The boy was speaking loudly and arrogantly, "I understand Cha'a' is Klingon for 'Big Torpedoes'. It is a pity I did not meet her, but look forward to getting my hands on your weapons bay."
As she drew level, Marie's left hand flew up and out, catching him on the side of the cheek. He dropped with a sickening thud.
Marie kept on walking. She had used only the heel of her palm and had admittedly caught him unawares but the brat was on his arse where he belonged. “You’re not keeping up,” she said. “You’ll have to do better than that.”
Renko stood up, incandescent with rage, "How dare you! I am Renko Steele!"
This was obviously supposed to impress Marie. Obviously this youth was used to people on the station treading very carefully around him, as he was the Commandant's son.
Marie looked up at the boy disdainfully then scanned him from top to bottom. “There’s an old Earth saying,” she said. “It runs along the lines of ‘Is that a pistol in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?’ I don’t even see a pistol, let alone any Cha'a'.”
She resumed walking.
“Need I remind you to keep up?” she called back. “You wouldn’t want your Klingon guest getting lost, now, would you?”
Renko was aghast. The sheer effrontery of the woman! His shocked face turned into a grin as he move up next to her, "Well, your people have a reputation for being blunt. You have spirit. Riding you might be passingly interesting, once you have learned proper respect."
Marie groaned inwardly. Obviously subtlety isn’t going to win him over. I’ll have to try a different approach.
"But I guess you have never had to deal with real men before, so you are to be forgiven."
Yes, definitely a different approach.
They stepped out into a large commerce area. It looked like a flea market on 'roids. Stalls filled every space there was a blank wall or stretch of floor not actually needed for walking. Crowds jostled and yelled at each other for the products that were changing hands. Marie's trader mind went wild. How she would love the opportunity to just shop here.
As Renko moved down the steps to the floor the crowds didn't exactly move, but found other things to be doing that weren't in his direct path. Renko was a Prince, but the dark looks his back got suggested he was not a popular one.
"See anything you like?" he asked, waving his hand nonchalantly.
“Tell you what,” she said, “I live up to your expectations and you finance my spending an hour here, just me and the traders. No other customers, just me and the traders.”
Renko looked at her as if she were stupid, but he looked at everyone like that, "The traders ARE the other customers. Besides, it will be far to easy for you to live up to my expectations. I expect very little from you. You are certainly not up to even my usual standards, but I take pity on you."
"Tell you what," he grinned like a cat who had sole access to all the best cream, "you pick a pretty bauble you like and I will let you keep it, once you have performed for me."