Klingon Sexual Harrassment

Posted on Sun Mar 21st, 2021 @ 10:29pm by Administrator LordeEmp

Mission: Heroes of the Hov'hurgh
Location: M-Class Moon / Klingon Space
Timeline: 2356

While ten of them had managed to escape the destruction of their transport and subsequent crash landing, four had gone out to scout in the first two weeks that they had been stranded, and not returned. It became apparent rather quickly that while the moon would support life, it was no utopia. Their not so fearless leader, Kyran, had already become absolutely insufferable.

Working together VaQ’taj and JoH’qIj had managed to extract some of their cartography charts from the mostly fried out shuttle computer, but had still not been able to get communications back online. That had put the First in a rather foul mood, as she tried to figure out how to bypass all of the damage with insufficient materials and only the most basic of tools.

The fact that Kyran seemed to be losing his mind had only served to make matters worse. He refused to leave the shuttle or to allow any of them to leave sight of the camp. This was rapidly becoming an issue as their rations began to dwindle and the morale of the survivors was being pushed to the breaking point.

The “differences in leadership style”, as Joh’qIj put it, had become rather fierce and there was actually a quiet betting pool among the others as to who was going to kill who first. In truth, most of them wondered if it had already come time for their fiery First to claim command. The small engineer had no real desire for command. Her ability to excel had won her the slot of First, but VaQ’taj simply wanted to revolutionize the Empire’s fleet... that’s all.

A month into their battle-forced exile, they were no better off, other than the fact that she and JoH’qIj had managed to activate the shuttle’s distress system and they hoped that the small, short range beacon would catch someone’s attention. The only concern was who might find them. All that they could do was wait and survive.

That night, Kyran stumbled into VaQ’taj’s makeshift quarters. Weeks of constant work had worn on the small Klingon woman and the last thing that she wanted was some inane, drunken argument with the man that, she was now convinced, had bribed some official for his slot at the Academy.

“You do realize that our drinking wine is supposed to be for survival. It is not your private stock!” the irritated engineer shot at Kyran with a glare that spoke of nothing save burning contempt.

Giving the red-haired woman a grunt of laughter, Kyran slurred, “You... you know... that the Humans have a word for... women like you VaQ’taj,” he paused to bring his half empty mug to his lips and slurp heavily.

“You, VaQ’taj, are a shrew,” he finished after wiping his mouth on his already filthy sleeve. He gave her a look that was rather lascivious.

Folding her work-tone arms across her chest, the muscles in her jaw clenched shut as her hair stood up on end. Sensing that she was suddenly looking in to the eyes of a predator on the hunt, she demanded, “Tell me why you are here, or leave.”

Outside the makeshift door stood Joh’qIj; one hand raised to knock the other holding a dimly lit datapad. He had been coming to get advice from the First on some calculations. What he heard on the other side of the door, however, seemed much more interesting. He listened on.

“See! We are stranded on this moon and you are still the ‘Ice Queen’,” Kyran said as he began slowly walking towards the red-braided woman, “We could start our own civilization here, you know.. you are not perfect, but you would make an acceptable mate for me.” His eyes slipped to the traditional jewelry that VaQ’taj wore in defiance of the same said tradition. A gruesome grin cracked his face, telegraphing his intentions drunkenly.

“If you try this, it will be your final mistake, Kyran. You have been warned,” the First growled, not backing down from the threat. She never took her sharp brown eyes off of her possible attacker.

Ire flashed in Kyran’s eyes as he looked back to her face, “You really are arrogant. Something I will have to beat out of you!”

The drunken Klingon man lunged at VaQ’taj, rough hands stretched out towards her in an attempt to grapple the much smaller woman. A move that was easily sidestepped by the agile warrior that she had become over her lifetime of training. She caught hold of one of his arms and, using his unstable, sloppy attack against him, dragged him head first into the bulkhead.

At the first sound of violence, the inadvertent eavesdropper shifted slightly to peer through the crack between the door and the jamb.

The fleet footed woman danced back from Kyran before he could get back to his feet, shaking his head groggily, “I WILL tame you!” he bellowed, then lowered his head to charge her again.

That dangerous spark lit in VaQ’taj’s glare, “Better men than you have tried and failed,” she answered as she leapt up and planted a heavy, booted foot into his nose, shattering the thick plated bone that protected it. A manic grin split the short-statured Klingon woman’s face at Kyran’s howl of pain and anger. It was a satisfying sound and served to draw her further into her battle rage. Again she moved out of reach of his wildly flailing arms, watching him with predatory caution.

“I am going to kill you!” the bleeding male hissed through clenched teeth. Both of his eyes were rapidly purpling and between the blood and swelling, he sounded like he was underwater. He reached to his side and pulled out his d’k’tahg, thumbing open the trebled blade.

Standing outside Joh’qIj almost went to her aid, but remembering that this was one of his pool days, he hesitated. Besides it wasn’t his place, and the prize of an extra bottle of bloodwine would go well with the dwindling rations he would have tomorrow. And who knew, maybe some new leadership might do them all some good. And of course no Klingon in his right mind would want to interrupt a good fight.

“Do you really want to die this way, Kyran?” she asked, knowing that no real warrior wanted to risk Gre’thor. She drew her own blade, “This can end now. Just walk away.”

“It will never end. Not as long as both of us draw breath...” Kyran wheezed as he closed on the tired engineer.

Blades clashed as VaQ’taj deflected the blow, but she wasn’t able to dodge the kick to the chest. It picked the petite woman up off of the floor and sent her crashing through the rough wooden patch in the hull. Somehow, she managed to roll to one knee before careening into the cook fire.

Bits of splintered wood rained down on the towering “spy” as the diminutive Klingon flew past him. Followed just a moment later by the slurring, stumbling Kyran. “Trying to run won’t help you Ice Queen!”

At that moment Joh’qIj saw something in that woman, clutching a weapon and backlit by the fire as she was. He felt something tighten in his gut. Love? Lust? At the moment it didn't matter. But he certainly had another reason to hope that she was the victor in this fight. After all a drunken Klingon Male was a fearsome opponent by anyone’s standard.

Standing slowly she said, “I have allowed your incompetent leadership for far too long, Kyran! I challenge your ability to lead by right of combat! I challenge your parentage by right of intelligence!”

By that point everyone in the ramshackle camp was fully awake and watching. All present supported her in her challenge but no one would say a word or make any motion to help her. It was her fight and hers alone.

It was her turn to charge, only it was done without the staggering and reeking of alcohol. In a clear eyed fury, VaQ’taj lunged in and slipped under a clumsy slash by Kyran and raked her blade across his side, slicing his armor and biting into the flesh underneath.

Kyran let out a howl of surprise and pain. Stumbling a couple steps away and spinning around. “How dare you! Don’t you know who I am! You would be lucky to mate with someone like me!”

Letting out an exasperated scream, the small Klingon woman spun to face her wounded attacker, “You are a FOOL Kyran!” In a surprising move, she rushed her commander headlong, leaping directly at his chest with both feet, drop kicking him into the fire. She dropped to the ground and prepared for another launch even as he scrambled to extricate himself from the red hot coals.

Not leaving him any quarter, the petite Klingon dove over the flames, landing on him and driving him to the ground once again. Grabbing the fleeing man’s still smoldering armor, the hidden strength in her tiny form was revealed as she roughly spun him onto his back, looking him in the eye as she plunged her blade into his throat while saying, “I told you this would be your last mistake. Say hello to the Fek’lhr for me.”

Having watched the evening’s events transpire, Joh’qIj made a mental note ~Subtlety not brute force…~ A smile creased his rugged face as he heard the blade slide through their former squad leaders throat and into the ground below. He knew that Kyran ~may Fek’lhr feast on his worthless soul~ would not survive that final blow. He was the first to let out a cheer for his victorious new Squad leader.

After waiting for the light to fade from his eyes and the gurgling of his breathing to stop, VaQ’taj dragged herself up off of his corpse and turned to look at the remaining squad. She was a bit surprised by the cheering of her compatriots, but she silenced them, “Rest tonight, tomorrow we leave this worthless camp. We have many things to do if we want to get off of this rock.”

Nodding, JoH’qIj replied, “Aye Ma’am, and well fought.”

Looking up at the giant of a Klingon that addressed her, “You are now my First. See to his corpse before it attracts animals. Qapla’!” she said as she turned and walked back in through the hole that had been created in her already dilapidated wall.

Turning to another Cadet nearby, the newly minted first offhandedly motioned to the corpse near the fire. “Burn that, but salvage anything useful before you do.”