It took six days to cross the Alpha and Beta quadrants on a Lurian transport. Captain Anderson had offered a passage on a Federation starship, but Kronk felt it would have been too awkward for him to step on one just yet.
K-74 was an older station along the Federation/Klingon/Gorn border in the far end of the Beta Quadrant. It was quieter than some other boarder postings, and despite its age, had a multitude of upgrades keeping it relevant in the current era. Still, the walls and carpet with the lingering smell, and repurposed sliding doors screamed ‘retro’ 2200’s
There were only a few ships docked, even his own transport didn’t ‘stop’, but swung by just long enough to beam Kronk aboard before departing again on their main voyage. Kronk set his single travel bag down. It wasn’t that he was traveling light; it was that all that remained of his life was able to fit comfortably in a single carry-on.
According to his orders, he was to rendezvous with the IKS Koraga, a Mat’ha-class Klingon Raptor. Despite there being a modest number of Klingons aboard the station, he did not see any Klingon ships docked outside.
Kronk made his way down to the operations desk to check the Orbital Traffic display. A friendly-looking human female sat behind the desk, “Hello! Welcome to Kay-74, how can I help you?” she asked, in a high-pitched, but professional tone.
“Yes, Ma’am, I am waiting to embark on a Klingon Vessel, IKS-841?” Kronk described.
“I can look that up for you, and your name, sir?.” The officer stated as she began to type on her terminal.
“Kronk. Grade O3. SS-238-2385 KNT.” He responded.
He watched the officer as she plugged in the information, and as she read more, her bright smile diminished slowly as if the seriousness of what she was reading was weighing down her disposition. Snapping herself from the screen, she forced another smile, “The Officer of the Watch will be here in a moment to help you, Lieutenant.”
After a moment, a three-legged Edosian in a Red Command Jacket stepped forward from behind the desk. “Lieutenant Kronk?” he asked.
“Yes, sir…” Kronk could see on the officer’s collar three solid pips, “…Commander.” He followed up in acknowledgement.
“Please, follow me.” The commander nodded, opening up a small partition that allowed access behind the desk. Kronk gathered his bag and dutifully followed.
The two traversed a small, empty corridor meant for base personnel only. “Sorry for the confusion. I have been briefed on your situation. The Koraga is currently docked under cloak, requesting their presence not be recorded for this pick up.” The Edosian explained.
“Oh…kay…” The confusion of the circumstance is evident in Kronk’s voice. “Any particular reason why?”
“Not that they were willing to share. They arrived roughly the same time you did, which is most fortuitous. The faster your onboard, the faster they can leave.” The commander exclaimed. By the tone of his voice, Kronk had the distinct feeling that the Edosian was not pleased in dealing with Klingons, or at least this batch.
The pair arrived at a private Transporter Room, where Kronk was directed onto the pad. “Contacting the Koraga now for transport authorization. Is there anything you need beforehand?” The Commander asked.
Kronk weighed the validity of the question, as the man was practically rushing him off the station. “No, sir.” He decided trying to prolong their interaction wasn’t worth it.
A moment of silence hung between them as the commander focused on the terminal before him. There was the sound of an acknowledging beep. The Edosian turned its angular head up at him one last time in a solemn nod, “Godspead Lieutenant.” And the transport was initiated…
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IKS Koraga – Transporter Room
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As the world re-materialized before him, his senses were the first to pick up the drastic shift in location. The smell of sweat and burning oil filled the air, as the dark metal reflected the red running lamps that illuminated the room. Kronk stood on a yellow transport pad in a small room that held just enough for the platform and control panel. However, he could not believe who was waiting for him across the room.
Dressed in tight leather pants and a loose-fitting cloth top, an Orion woman with dark green hair tied in a top bun smiled back at him. “Welcome aboard the Koraga!”
Kronk stood on the pedestal for a moment, dumbfounded that he was not being greeted by a Klingon. “I…uhhh…” he stuttered in confusion.
“Aww, were you expecting a big, burly man? Don’t worry, we have plenty of them smelly things onboard to suit your fancy! I’m Bekka, Task Master aboard the Koraga! I’ll be overseeing your onboarding orientation!” She teased.
Kronk’s head tilted to the side as he tried to process what he was being told. “Task master?” he repeated.
“It’s our version of your Operations, Logistics, and Communications departments. I am a lady with many hats! Nice outfit by the way! Smart not coming aboard in those folded pajamas y’all call a uniform.” She giggled, turning her back to the Barzan and waving him to follow with a raised finger.
Kronk looked down at the clothes he had been wearing for a week now, distracted by her compliment before hurrying off the platform after the Orion. As the two left the Transporter room and entered a corridor, she gave a dramatically practiced heavy sign “Let me guess, you’re confused as to why an Orion like me has a station aboard a Klingon Ship? Would it shock you even more to know I’m also an officer?”
“The thought did cross my mind…and, wow, an Officer?” Kronk confessed as he tried to keep pace, while memorizing their walking path and keeping track of the conversation.
“To be honest, there are a lot of jeghpu’wI onboard, you just don’t normally see them. They do a lot of the menial tasks aboard the ship, out of sight and out of mind. I have been fortunate enough to have been elevated to the provisional rank of Bekk.” She explained as they made their way down the winding monochrome pathways.
“Bekk Bekka? That’s…convenient.” He remarked, glancing back, wondering if she was deliberately taking him in circles, or if all the corridors on the ship indeed looked the same.
Bekka laughed, “Oh, Bekka isn’t my actual name. I never really had one till I took on the role. It just seemed easier to add the ‘A’ at the end to make it my own. You’ll find that your understanding of Klingon culture is somewhat skewed aboard this ship?”
“Oh? How so?” Kronk challenged.
“We’re not what you would consider…conservative. Our captain values skill and talent over bloodlines and breeding. You need only be Klingon of the heart and loyal to a fault to advance aboard this vessel. That’s half the reason you’re here!” she chirped.
“And what is the reason we are going around in circles?” Kronk snapped, knowing by now Bekka had taken them on no less than 7 right turns.
The Orion giggled, “Oh, you’re sharp. Just a little playful hazing of the new guy.” She admitted, reaching over and pressing a button one of the doors, calling a lift to their location. “Common. Protocol must still be followed, and the Iron Maiden awaits fresh blood.”
Kronk followed Bekka onto the lift as she hummed a cheery tune while the lift moved about the vessel. Maybe she put him on the lift to throw off his orientation, maybe she was still screwing with him? Maybe the whole crew was by sending a slave girl to meet with him. But his concerns were quickly dashed as the lift ended on Deck Two. Stepping off, it was only a short walk further until they reached a large decorative iron door. Was this what she meant by the Iron Maiden?
“Look…” Bekka started, her voice losing its former wonder, “When you go in there, be honest, to her and yourself. She already knows the answers to every question she’s going to ask you; she just wants to see if you’re brave enough to tell the truth. Be Brave, Be Klingon, and everything will be just fine!” Bekka assured, placing her hand on Kronk’s chest. Even through his shirt, he could feel her skin was cold as she leaned in closer to him.
For a moment, he honestly thought she was trying to kiss him; however, at the last second, he realized she was using him as leverage to reach behind and press the door chime that was behind him. She smirked at the light blush on his cheek; it was probably still a deliberate move on her end.
“ghoS!” came a commanding voice within.
As the doors slowly began to open, Bekka turned to face Kronk one last time, “OH, don’t stare into her eye plate, she hates that!” She explained before pushing off of the Barzan and out of the way of the door, as if trying not to be seen with him by the occupant inside.
Once again bewildered by her statements, Kronk turned to look into the dimly lit room. It was too dark to make anything out but a simple metal desk in the middle of the room, illuminated by a single light hanging overhead. In front of the desk, a figure sat leaning against it, its silhouette darkened by the light behind it, but even then, some details came through.
A Klingon, roughly 6’3” in standard ceremonial armor, stood in the middle of the room, sitting against the desk. In one hand, she held a d’k tahg, the other a fruit. Slowly, she cut off slices of the fruit and slipped them into her mouth, her tongue dancing along the blade’s edge to lap up the residual juice that drenched it. Then he saw it, he couldn’t NOT notice it now. A Shiny metal plate affixed to her right eye socket, the other eye glaring out into the hall, right at him.
Though out of view from the open door, Bekka was bowing low towards the door frame, “Presenting First Officer V’ecna! Iron Maiden of the Koraga! I bring to you the Federation Officer, as requested, ma’am!”
“Enter, Kronk, of Starfleet. There is much to discuss between you and I…” V’ecna Ordered.
[To be Continued]
