The Great Hall: Let the Festivities Begin!

Posted on Mon Apr 26th, 2021 @ 10:10pm by Lieutenant Frederick Carlow & General VaQ'taj Lon'HocH'tul & Colonel JoH'qIj Lon'HocH'tul & Fleet Admiral T'Vyn sol-N'tae
Edited on on Tue May 11th, 2021 @ 10:35pm

Mission: Heroes of the Hov'hurgh
Location: Great Hall, IKS Hov’Hurgh
Timeline: 2409

Like castles from the old story, the Great Hall aboard the Hov’Hurgh was a grand affair. And while the Hov’Hurgh belonged to her sister, the hall and attached Galley was Mack's domain. And tonight she was in a good mood. This was something that few understood about her, no matter the circumstances around her, sometimes a good mood would strike her and it would take blood and death to bring her down.

Eyes half lidded, a soft smile on her face, Mack danced around the kitchen to music only she could hear. Chou grunted and oinked gleefully, trotting and spinning around her feet as they worked. The teacup targ wore a jaunty bow the same color as McKenna's top. Inspired by their earlier guest, the cook had broken out some of her nicer clothes, not a dress or anything nearly so formal but she'd tucked her tight black pants into soft black leather boots that came up over her knees and laced up the back and finished the outfit with a rich gold tunic, her hair in a long french braid secured with a length of the same bright ribbon that Chou wore.

Before dressing, to keep herself busy the cook had ordered around a few of the more burly crew members to get the long table set perfectly down the center of the room and help her clean the hall from stem to stern before she started putting out place settings. VaQ liked to have big meals, with most of the crew, a communal gathering that Mack adored. It felt like home to her, like the meals she would serve when she first came to her adopted parents home.

It was the only thing she'd ever excelled at that her family valued, she would never be as strong as the others, or as tall... she would always be the little human girl that wasn't enough. Save when it came to her cooking, that was her element. So she danced as she set the places for everyone and one by one put the chairs and benches in place, her internal sense of time tracking a dozen different dishes that roasted and simmered and braised in her kitchen.

When the dining room was perfect she and Chou made their way back to the Galley, the teacup targ squealing delightedly as Mack poured food into his bowl and shut the gate to his pen before turning back to the food.

The constant rumble of loud, boisterous voices was suddenly silent and everyone turned to look as their red-braided Colonel led their visitors into the festively adorned Great Hall. All hands suddenly turned and saluted as one when one of the crewmen sounded off, “Captain on deck!”

Colonel VaQ’taj looked over the gathered crew and gave a small, crooked grin to go along with the slight nod of approval. They were her crew and they did know how to impress! Returning the salute and releasing the crew to go back to their business, the red-braided Klingon woman looked to the slightly shorter Vulcan diplomat, “I typically take my meals with my crew. However, my sister has prepared the Captain’s table for us in an adjoining room. I would still like to start these festivities with them before we disappear.”

There was a slight twitch of T’Vyn’s brow and she gave a single, respectful nod to the captain of the Hov’Hurgh then looked out over the faces of the crew as they awaited the orders of their leader. So many darkly colored Starfleet style uniforms that were one of the hallmarks of the cooperation of the Alliance, stood proudly among the gold-trimmed, black leather armor of the Klingons that had become their crewmates, their comrades-in-arms. The Vulcan woman looked on them with a serene gaze, while inside she fought to restrain a sense of honor and pride at being able to witness something that she had fought so hard for, after so many years of war.

Two steps up, one on a long bench, then to the top of the nearest table, and the short Klingon Colonel could be seen and heard by all in the room. “Today, alongside our Federation allies, we celebrate our honored dead! Let the halls of Sto’vo’kor quake with the thunderous howls of our fallen as they join the long line of their honorable ancestors! Break open the barrels! Bring forth the feast! Sing great songs of glorious battle, and honor our brothers and sisters that have given their last breath to ensure that we have another day to fight! Qapla’!” VaQ’taj roared to her eager crew and was met with thunderous and raucous applause, including the rhythmic pounding of heavy mugs on the thick tables.

Standing a few feet away, JoH’qIj watched with pride as his mate did what she did best; inspire her crew. Although truth be told, it didn’t take much to inspire these Klingon warriors to take part in a feast, especially if there was blood wine involved.

He thought to himself that this was difference between VaQ’taj and most of the captains he had served under. She knew how to make a scene, grab the attention, and control a crew better than anyone he had ever met. This was one of the things that had told him early on that she was something special, a force to be reckoned with.

“Qapla’!” Tenas thrust his fist into the air and joined in the triumphant roar of the crew, drawing the wary gaze of T’Vyn’s escort. He peered between their matching nonplussed stares and shrugged, “As the humans say, ‘When in Rome’.”

While alert eyes fell on the Kolari that was standing next to the ambassador, if the black-hooded guard had tensed, there had been no sign of it. A glint of humor danced across the golden eyes of the Federation diplomat in their charge, however. T’Vyn had seen the mourning practices of innumerable races, and the fact that a celebration of life spoke to many was not lost on the Vulcan woman. Even if her guards were used to more somber reflections in such times.

When VaQ’taj didn’t make a really long speech Fred was quite relieved. For one, if anyone could make a super long funeral dirge speech on the fly he would bet it would be a Klingon captain. It even made him think of preachers from back in the day talking over a table until the food got cold. Secondly, to be within mere inches of those mugs of bloodwine and not be able to try some seemed like some sort of Machiavellian torture.

Seeing this up close and personal made Carlow’s mind spin on some of the differences in culture. How lucky one would be to have a Captain that even mentioned the passing of someone of low enough rank. They would likely have a somber ceremony and then if that person was quite popular or loved they still might be mentioned from time to time behind closed doors, and/or over a drink through whispered and disparaging terms.

If only he could celebrate his own losses in just such a way he might be a far more well balanced person. So when the crew of the honorable ship raised their mugs once again, Fred raised his cane in camaraderie and approval.

Though she preferred to work alone, there was no way a single woman could feed this many people without riots starting so Mack had her helpers. She'd prepared all the food herself, but then used the big lugs that helped her clean the hall to take everything from stove to table. The tables practically groaned under the weight of massive platters piled high with sliced meats, large tureens of vegetables, jugs full of sauces and gravy, and huge loaves of crusty bread in an array of colors.

And that was just the more human fair, along with it were a myriad of bowls filled with many things that moved under their own power, despite this they were seasoned to perfection. Mack pushed out the final cart out, the two massive kegs already tapped and ready, and parked it against the far wall. When she was satisfied that all would be well there she moved to tend to VaQ and her guest.

The command group moved through the crowd of warriors and up a small set of stairs that led to a private chamber that was slightly elevated and overlooked the rest of the hall. It was a part of the design that was meant to be used by the captain, so that they could always keep an eye on their crew, but it was a feature that VaQ’taj rarely used. Located directly over the galley, there was a lift that served the opulently appointed Captain’s Table, allowing easy access to the woman that was working so hard to serve the crew and diplomatic party.

As the group got inside, force-fields sprang to life and the red-braided colonel motioned around the table, “Sit, eat, drink. I do not normally stand on formalities. There is far too much to discuss to be coy.” VaQ'taj moved to the head of the table, and motioned for the ambassador to take the seat opposite her.

FIN