Captains Log – Supplemental

We continue plodding along at low warp through Klingon space, whilst their inspection teams pick their way over Daedalus’ innards. We’ve had three ‘surprise’ inspections in the last 12 hours and each time the leering brutes have found nothing they could construe as ‘contraband’. I’ve almost given the order to leave them in the dust a half dozen times but Indira, ever the voice of reason, keeps pointing out the pair of cruisers that flank us. I’m pretty sure we could outrun them, but Aramook’s warp trail leads through their zone of control, which means our course also leads us there. So for now, we’ll submit to the meaningless inspections, who would have thought Klingons could wield the blade of bureaucracy so well? 

“Captain Mordic, I don’t know what a fourth inspection would reveal that your previous three missed.” Mellasitox gripped the small spongey figurine to the right of her desk screen and squeezed firmly, channelling her frustrations into its bulging form.

The young face of Captain Mordic scowled out from the small screen, his own frustrations with his duties written upon his face. Cargo inspections did not leave much room for glory.

“We are merely ensuring the safety of our nearby outpost. You could be carrying several items of contraband.”

There was that word again that ruffled Mellasitox’s feathers. ‘Contraband’. Anything from Tribbles to Isolynear weapons fell under its broad strokes, none of which were aboard the small scout ship. Mellasitox gripped the stress ball off-screen harder, the rubber fabric of its eyes now thin under the pressure of her frustration.

“Mordic, we are not carrying anything – “

“-Captain.” The man growled a correction across the comm channel.

Mallasitox caught an eye roll before it slipped out, consigning the energy to the ever-growing pool of annoyance that lay in the pit of her stomach.

“Captain,” she corrected herself, “we are not carrying anything that we know to be contraband under galactic or Klingon law.”

“How can we be sure? You refuse our teams access to several locations aboard your tiny ship.”

“We cannot allow you access to those locations due to security concerns Captain.” Mellasitox presented her most endearing smile, the corners of her lips curving upward in an attempt to be pleasant. “I’m sure you understand.”

“I do not.”

The stress toy in the captain’s right hand bulged again as she squeezed the malleable contents even harder.

“I wouldn’t expect access to the sensitive areas of your ship.”

Mellasitoxx glanced sideways through the stout windows of her office. Beyond it, the green patina hull of a K’Tinga class cruiser loomed large over Daedalus’ shoulder. It glided threateningly through subspace, across the opposite side of the vessel she knew a twin vessel followed a similar path. In reality, there was little about the old class of vessels that Starfleet didn’t already know, she could likely list off its capabilities and configurations from memory. It held little secrets, unlike the more modern Rhode Island class vessel and with tensions on the rise she was reluctant to allow her secrets to slip out to a minor captain of a minor house.

“We are not the ones wishing to enter into the secure territory of the Klingon Empire.” Mordic scowled, his impressive crown of cranial ridges creating umbral valleys across his forehead. Behind him an array of weapons hung on the dark red bulkheads, each casting a claw of shadowy talons across the room.

A quiet swish of doors falling aside in the corner of the office caught Mellasitox’s attention as the slight figure of Indira Sehgali appeared in the doorway, a steaming mug of liquid nestled in her hands. Without summoning she silently glided across the room and slipped the mug across the desk towards the captain’s empty hand,  as the other continued choking the life from the small stress toy.

“Can we not at least increase our speed a little?” Mellasitox implored.

“These inspections are a vital part of our security cordon. They take time to undertake thoroughly.” The Klingon captain appeared thoroughly unconvinced by his own statement, his own sigh of exasperation barely contained behind his pointed teeth.

“You are welcome to turn around and return to Federation space.”

The pair stared at each other across the commlink, though separated by only a few hundred metres they may as well be on opposite sides of the galaxy for all the diplomatic distance between them. It took every ounce of energy for Mellasitox not to close the comlink and order the ship away at full warp. Few ships in the Klingon Defense Force could match Daedalus for speed and they could be far into deep space before their inspectors even had their hands on their bat’leths.

“Very well then Captain, a fourth inspection it is. Please allow us a few minutes to make preparations to receive you.” Mellasitox gave Indira a slight nod, who was already making her way back towards the doors that led to the bridge.

“You have 60 seconds to drop out of warp and prepare for transport. Otherwise, we will be forced to stop you by force.”

As the face of the Klingon disappeared from the screen a quiet cough emanated from across the small office from the figure of Commander Sehgali, hovering in the open doorway.

“You should be careful, you’ll have a casualty on your hands.” Sehgali offered a reassuring smile to the young Captain.

“It’s a bluff, the Empire can’t afford an armed engagement with Starfleet, not even with all that anti-Federation crap Toral is spouting out from Qo’noS.” Mellasitoxx sighed as she fell back into her chair.

“I was talking about the stress toy.” Sehgali flashed a playful raise of her eyebrows as she nodded towards the small red rubber creature pinched in the vice-like grip of the young Captain. Its small shape silently squealed as it bulged like an overfilled balloon.

The Betazoid captain considered the small figure, its small stubby arms and legs lending it the slightest hint of a humanoid creature caught in her god-like grasp. She released the pressure slightly, allowing its body to return to its normal configuration partially.

“From the sounds of things our Klingon friends aren’t too happy about all the inspections either,” Sehgali offered.

“There’s not a lot of glory in inspecting passing Starfleet scouts.”

“Perhaps there more in hunting a fugitive?”

“You think we can trust them?”

“Enough to use them to aid the search.” Sehgali brushed a rebellious lock behind her ear, her dark henna-dyed fingertips attempting to tame the mess of dark hair. “They don’t need to know everything but allowing a formal Klingon escort might speed things up. They like being needed.”

The captain tilted her head thoughtfully.

“You think they’d go for that?” Mellasitox chewed her cheek thoughtfully, their mission wasn’t particularly clandestine, just sensitive. Having Klingon oversight would complicate matters but time was a vital element that continued to slip away with each inspection, as did the warp trail of their quarry.

“We only need them to secure passage through this sector and maybe offer us a second pair of eyes in the hunt. They don’t need to know what Aramook is doing…” Sehgali’s face darkened momentarily as she remembered the second part of the mission, secure the renegade Commander Bib.

“Or who is with him,” she finished glumly.

“It’ll take some convincing. Any ideas for currying favour with Klingons?” Mellasitox asked, her youthful face tilted towards the older officer. She was fairly new to the command game and her XO had a long service history, filled with valuable experiences.

Sehgali allowed a short laugh to escape her lips as she turned to leave, her face radiating with her perpetual motherly glow.

“Blood wine and plenty of it.”