Drunken, Disheveled, and Dishonored | Part I of II

Posted on Sun Jun 21st, 2020 @ 8:13am by Lieutenant K'Laus & Lieutenant JG Vecon Fick
Edited on on Tue Jul 7th, 2020 @ 1:44pm

Mission: Into the Wild
Location: USS Pandora | Deck X | Corridor

A Mission Post by Lieutenant K'Laus & Ensign Vecon Fick
Mission: Into The Wild
Location: USS Pandora | Deck X | Corridor
Timeline:
Mon Oct 2nd, 2017 @ 3:03am


For a Klingon, Lieutenant K'Laus was rather mild mannered and polite. He was snide, sarcastic, sometimes rude, and his table manners were questionable at best. He had a record of the occasional scuffle and fist fight, but these were mostly in his first two years aboard a Federation starship, a hold over from his days aboard Klingon birds of prey where the only real way to solve a problem was with your fists or with a good bladed weapon in your hand. His time in recent years had been fairly mundane. He was on report a few times for mouthing off to someone or making some idle threats, but because he was not 'officially' Starfleet and only held a provisional rank, he was given a little extra leeway from his Commanding Officer's and their Executive Officers because having a Klingon aboard was a good sign for Federation and Empire relations. Add onto the fact said Klingon was actually raised in the Talarian Republic, K'Laus was something personnel officers desire to have aboard. It also made Starfleet Human Resources extraordinarily pleased.

However, this was not to say that K'Laus did not have his issues. He did. Oh He most certainly did. One of which was the simply fact that his blood was constantly brewing a bit hotter than anyone else aboard, and being full Klingon, he had a tendency to snap at people. He broke several consoles in his day with his fist slamming down upon them. He was an Engineer and Operations Officer's nightmare, but ever since transferring from Security to Operations a handful of years ago, K'Laus became much more respectful of Federation and Starfleet property, especially those that were a tad bit fragile.

Though this did not stop his hot blood from boiling over after some time, and every now and again something would truly set him off and he became a bit of a raging Klingon brute. One evening after one too many.... several too many steins of Klingon Warnog, the Klingon in question had worked up some nerve. He was not going to be a spineless PetaQ about it. He was on his way with a PaDD in hand to see Ensign Vecon Fick. However, when the Klingon reached the deck, he took several minutes trying to locate Fick's quarters in his somewhat intoxicated haze accompanied with impaired judgement. Just stopping by unannounced off duty was probably not the wisest idea.

When he did finally reach Ensign Fick's quarters, K'Laus was making his way down the corridor. The ensign's door towards the end of the corridor on his right side. The doors slid open before K'Laus was halfway there. He's coming! thought the Klingon, who dove for cover ungracefully slamming into the locked doors of another crewmember's quarters. *THUMP* went the Klingon's skull right into the door and *THUUUUUMP* went the Klingon right onto the deck after being deflected by the securely closed doors.

Though he made quite the sound, he went unnoticed by the man departing from Fick's quarters down the corridor. However, Fick, it was not. Fumbling with his uniform's undershirt and with overjacket of his uniform draped over his arm was the USS Pandora's Chief Engineer: Lieutenant Mindo, an Eloi-Feserian who looked somewhat like a teenaged human boy with big blue eyes. The Klingon gritted his teeth. He knew the Chief Engineer had more than a good service record. He had been one of the starship's favorite topics in ship's scuttlebutt and was rumored to have bedded his fair share of the crew. The Klingon had heard the stories of the mythological figure Pandora and about Pandora's box. He had also heard many other mythological fables from Earth, researching them on his own time when he heard several members of the crew refer to Lieutenant Mindo as the starship's resident 'Siren'.

Klingons did not necessarily 'mate for life' exactly, but they did have sense of honor and loyalty to their families and to those they considered their mates. Talarians also placed a huge emphasis on families, more specifically that of honoring your wife and ensuring they were protected. Knowing that Lieutenant Mindo more or less was haphazardly willy nilly putting said willy all over the starship as though he were a Bolian bachelor irked the Klingon. Seeing him leave Ensign Fick's quarters though? Maybe it was the Warnog, maybe it was just because his blood was running hot and he was looking to fight someone... anyone, but whatever the reason, Lieutenant Mindo was going to be in for a very rough encounter of the Klingon kind.

Lieutenant K'Laus was not going to do it here. No, not here in the middle of an empty corridor. He wanted to make a statement. He wanted Lieutenant Mindo to learn a lesson and K'Laus wanted that message to be heard very loudly and very clearly. He was not going to wait for scuttlebutt to get around that he struck Mindo or anything of the sort. It was not effective enough. He wanted witnesses. He wanted spectators. Though murder was not on the Klingon's mind at all. He had too much self restraint to coldly take a life. He was just going to make a strong statement and perhaps rattle Mindo's cage.

Fick watched the door slide shut behind Mindo and flopped down on the couch in his living area. It was funny that no matter how many times he had someone in his room, overnight, his thoughts always returned to the Klingon K'Laus. He'd purposefully kept out of any sort of committed relationship. Usually he was the first one to jump on those sorts of things no matter how short lived they could be, but currently he was only interested in one person for that sort of thing, everything else was gravy.

K'Laus watched Mindo put his uniform back on and straighten it with a few tugs as he waited for the lift. He heard the man's destination: Deck 10, Main Engineering. Though K'Laus imagined the man was going to head up to Deck 11 where his office sat like a bird's nest overlooking the mass of Engineering and his yellow and black bees buzzing below their technological overlord; the ship's Siren, the Casanova, this damn Don Juan.