Tag: captain koril

Day 421.9
M. Koril

I do not feel very well at all. Too much bloodwine, too much fighting, too much noise perhaps. At least Qo’noS is dark. I’m waiting in the shipyard to hear from my new captain and crew.

Captain Sarnog has found a ship for Sylon and I. I am told that it is a ship that does not have much “honor”, but it will keep us far from Romulan space. When we arrived, I had thought we would be stuck here for days, weeks even, waiting for a trade vessel passing through that we might beg to join. I’m pleasantly surprised.

I am on one hand relieved to be able to get back into space and get moving again. On the other hand, I have no idea what life is going to be like aboard a Klingon ship, or what I will be expected to do. There is nothing familiar here. It’s all uncharted territory.

I miss Tovan. Even his silence was comforting, in its way.

Day 421.7
M. Koril

I am not one for telling strangers about my past, but the Klingon and I spoke at length for several hours. His name was Captain Sarnog. He never apologized for our initial meeting, exactly, but he did explain that he had fought in the Dominion War, and that it was never easy for him to see a Cardassian or Jem Hadar face, especially on his homeworld. I know and understand very little about history, and less about homeworlds, but this much, I suppose I can understand.

I told him briefly about my personal history, about being chased all over the quadrant, about the Romulans and the Federation and running cargo, and he was fascinated. He became more and more animated the longer the story went on, although that was most certainly in part because of the bloodwine. By the end of it, he was promising that his crew would be singing about my adventures the next time we met. I sincerely doubt that will happen, but I cheered and ordered more bloodwine anyhow. I think that Klingons are not as difficult to get along with as I’ve been led to believe. I already have made friends of two of them.

When I was finished, Captain Sarnog stared at me for a while and then grinned unsettlingly, “I think I know just the place for you.”

Day 421.2
M. Koril

I would like to report that I won the challenge, but I cannot. It was impulsive and reckless of me to accept a bat’leth challenge from a seasoned Klingon warrior…and truthfully I doubt he expected me to. But neither did he expect me to pick up the blade I was offered and swing it properly. Our combat lasted longer than either of us expected. He was slowed by age, but he was efficient with his movements, and powerful. My small size and speed helped me, but I do not have the benefit of years of practice with the bat’leth. I made a somewhat desperate thrust at an opening he left. He blocked it and recovered so quickly that I never saw the swipe at my legs coming until I was on the ground and watching a blade falling toward my head.  I rolled, but knew it was going to be too little too late. It was all going to end on an arena floor in the Klingon capitol. How strange. I flung my blade in his direction as I rolled. I had literally nothing left to lose.

The Klingon’s blade never landed.

“There would be no honor in killing you tonight, Cardassian,” he grunted offhandedly, and stood up, towering over me. I didn’t dare move, except to peer over at his face and see the stare he was leveling at me.

“Come. Buy an old warrior a drink. I want to know how you learned to wield the blade of a Klingon.”

Day 421.1
M. Koril

I have made it to Qo’noS, to the First City. People’s stares are shorter here than on Mol Rihan or at Earth Spacedock, although there is a good deal more unfiltered disgust in their eyes. Tempers are short and memories are long here. It feels all at once like a busy spaceport full of traders, and also a temple of ancient traditions that my mere presence has trampled upon. To a Klingon, history is who you are, and the history between our two races is not a good one. Though I’m certain that my Romulan tunic does nothing to help, either.

Sylon has vanished in search of supplies, but promised to meet me at the transporter later. I am to seek out a particular Klingon named Strenn who is supposed to be able to assist us in finding a crew to join. My feet took me instead in the direction of laughing and shouting and clashing of blades, and a bar serving some decent bloodwine. My intention was to observe. If I am to live and work among Klingons, I should learn more firsthand about their culture.

A sort of sporting event was taking place near the bar area. Various warriors would challenge each other to duels with the bat’leth, and the winner would fight others. The actual rules were lost on me, but I was fascinated to see the different techniques in action. I thought that I was being discreet, but suddenly I heard a voice yell out above the ruckus, “I challenge the Cardassian!”

Surprised, I took a much-too-large gulp of bloodwine. My head spun and I at first did not see the Klingon, though he was enormous, towering over me. I heard him, however.

“Or is it a Romulan?” he sneered, only slightly less loudly, “it seems to be confused. Perhaps someone should show it the way back to the Neutral Zone!”

I stood up, then, unwilling to stare up at his snarling face, and glared back at him. There was something almost playful in his taunt. He was testing me somehow. The room tilted, red and brown and grey; shades of blood and patterns of fire.

“I accept the challenge!” I shouted back.

I blame the bloodwine.

Day 415
M. Koril

It did not take long to find a Klingon crew willing to take us on. I admit that I am surprised. Given my affiliation with the Romulans, I would have expected more hostility. Sylon may have smoothed things over a bit, but she, too, does not seem too ingratiated with them. Why they have chosen to welcome us remains a mystery. I do not trust it, but I am grateful. I don’t want to linger here any longer. There are too many familiar eyes in the shadows.

Day 410
M. Koril

I spoke to Tovan. Was it only a week ago? I think we both knew for a long time that it was coming to this.

“You’ve been different, ever since the Jevonite,” he mumbled, and he was almost apologetic, because it was true of him as well.

“I’m not a cargo hauler, Tovan.”

“I know.”

More was said, but it was more than words that we exchanged. I could read his expressions again. I could tell that he understood; that he had understood for weeks, but had not had the words to explain it. We both had survived the Jevonite together, but we needed to rebuild our lives apart.

So I’m back on Drozana, looking for passage into Klingon space, of all places. Sylon is coming with me, claiming to have contacts who could help us. What a strange place, the universe is. To find myself in all corners of it.

Bonus shot of Koril defending the Vana

Freighter Vana Captain’s Log
Day 399.9
M. Koril

We waited in the aft compartment, but our attackers did not resume firing on the Vana from the outside. I opted to turn life support back on and reclaim the bridge. We met no resistance on our way up, but also saw no bodies. Once we were back on the bridge, Tovan ran a scan for enemy ships. There were none in the immediate area. He suggested that we scared off some pirates. I am not so certain.

Sylon was injured, but alive in one of the life pods. She is tough and resourceful. I have a great respect for her.

The feeling of unease has become something much more solid now, something desperate. I must get Tovan to speak to me soon, after we have all recovered a little.

Freighter Vana Captain’s Log
Day 399.4
M. Koril

My surviving crew and I have reached the aft compartment and shut off life support to all parts of the ship except this one. The bombardment has not resumed. The cargo has been destroyed, but we may have defended the ship. At the very least, we did all that we could.

Freighter Vana Captain’s Log
Day 399.3
M. Koril

We have engaged the enemy on the lower decks. The invaders are Orions, but who sent them remains a mystery. We are currently too focused on repelling them to ask questions. They have taken the bridge. I have not heard if Sylon survived. I am attempting to reach the secondary control console in the aft compartment.