The bridge was dark; most Klingon bridges were. The philosophy was one born out of predatory instinct. With fewer lights to distract someone, any sudden shift or movement on the screen would be easier to catch. Kronk understood this, and even in his ‘extracurricular’ escapades, most of the ships he served on used this methodology.
Kronk followed closely behind Thra’ssk as they entered the bridge. It was a compact, circular design with screens and consoles all around the walls, varying seats at each station, and a raised platform where the Captain’s Chair sat, overlooking everything.
Commander V’ecna stood at the right side of the empty chair, her hands folded behind her back, looking forward towards the screen as everyone began to file into their position. She didn’t need to direct anyone; everyone knew where to go, everyone except him.
Thra’ssk motioned to the very center station of the bridge, right in front of the view screen, and right at the feet where the captain sat. Kronk knew well enough that helmsman positions were located here, but somehow, he was hoping not to take the center stage. Still, swallowing his apprehension, Kronk crossed the bridge and took his seat, evaluating the controls in Klingon Text as he oriented himself with the control setup.
Thra’ssk did not take a station but stood just below the platform where the Commander stood, to the right, overseeing three other officers. Bekka took a seat at the console to the left of Kronk, giving him a nose wiggle as she turned to attend to her screen. In the reflection of his console, he could see behind him the doors to the bridge opening, and the outline of Gormesh appeared, settling in the back of the bridge to the left.
Then the doors opened again, and another figure emerged. This one was tall, almost as tall as V’ecna, but much broader. He was draped in a black leather coat and what appeared to be heavy squared shoulder pauldrons. His hair was short, as short and dense as the stubble across his face, but his skin was almost as light as Kronk’s. In the vague reflection, he almost appeared as a ghost.
His heavy foot steps reverberated through the bridge as the man made his way past V’ecna, taking his place in the empty chair. THIS was the captain. Kronk fought the urge to stand at attention but did not see anyone else reacting in such a manner around him. His hands hovered over the terminal, and his ears began to ring as he tried to focus on what might be asked of him.
“yIja’” (Report) Kronk could hear the captain say casually in Klingon. His voice was deep and scratchy, much like a Klingon’s. V’ecna approached and handed the captain a PADD, “The ship is ready at your leisure, my lord.” The Captain took the pad and looked it over for a moment, indicating something on the screen before handing it back to her. V’ecna bowed as she took the PADD back from him, returning to her position and declaring aloud.
“Helm, set course for H’atoria, Warp 6.” V’ecna commanded, using Federation Common.
“luq, la’” (Yes, Commander) Kronk responded in Klingon, his hands already zeroing in on the coordinates of the colony world. Distance, Vector, Speed, Modifying for categorized special anomalies along their flight path, and alignment with established warp-lanes of travel, the course was laid in and set within a matter of moments.
The captain made no direct response to the helmsman’s use of their dialect, but a small, amused smirk did creep across his lips as he settled into his chair. At the acknowledging trill of acceptance from the ship’s navigational computer, indicating the Helmsman had done his job, the Captain, still in a calm and casual tone, spoke to him directly:
“yIghoS” (Proceed)
=================
The first twenty minutes of the ship at warp went by in total silence. Kronk kept his eyes forward on his station, occasionally stealing glances from the reflection of his terminal at the bridge around him. He could almost feel the burning gaze of the captain’s eyes on him the entire time, but he was so far in that he dared not turn around now.
The captain, however, sat in contemplative silence. He watched every move of the new pilot; every stolen back glance out of the reflection of his terminal, his tense posture, his structured breathing. The boy was nervous, that was clear, as he should be, yet still he focused on his job. Despite not touching a Klingon terminal since he arrived, he was quick to execute V’ecna’s orders, and his fluent nature in their native tongue was a relief, yet slightly irksome.
The captain’s eyes moved to Bekka, and almost as if sensing his gaze, she turned to meet his eyes. Having her attention, he need not speak a word, only looking over to the Pilot and back to her, as if asking her opinion. The Orion girl lowered her head in approval before turning back to her screens.
The captain’s chair twisted slightly as he looked over his shoulder to his left. Gormesh stood there, overlooking three engineering screens. The Naussican snapped to attention, his mouth still red and raw from his recent scuffle. Noticing this, the Captain’s brow furrowed in annoyance, but Gormesh nodded his head towards the Pilot’s seat. The Captain’s expression shifted to surprise, as he too looked back at the pilot, impressed and amused once again.
Turning his chair once more to the right, he looked to Thra’ssk, who had a fresh gash across his face. His face twisted in perplexed wonder, but the Gorn shook his head, motioning his gaze over to Gormesh, and directing a rude gesture to the Naussican. The Captain rolled his eyes, turning his chair once more towards the pilot.
V’ecna once again stepped forward, placing her hand gently on the back of the captain’s neck. Her nails caressing his scalp. He turned his attention to her for a moment, and she, too, nodded, telling him everything he needed to know.
“Burglar.” The captain called out as V’ecna quickly returned to her position.
Kronk’s heart jumped to his throat at the words. Not only was this happening now, but the Captain must have already been briefed on his talk with the Matron earlier this morning. Setting his terminal to auto-pilot, The Brazan rose from his seat, turning on his heels and facing the Captain, with his hands behind his back in a parade-rest stance. “Sir.” He responded, making sure not to look the captain directly in the eyes.
“Lieutenant Kronk, my apologies. My crew was so enamored with your arrival that they failed to properly introduce us. I am Roh’Khan, Son of Crovax, of House Koloth.” The captain spoke. Again, despite his rough voice, he spoke calmly and plainly, yet Kronk could not shake the irrational feeling that at any minute he could be yelled at.
“I am Kronk, son of Xavier. We have no such houses to claim.” Kronk introduced himself.
“Not all species do, but that is fine. I am, however, delighted to hear of your interest in taking over my engineering department.” Roh’khan continued, there was a subtle hint of venom in his voice at the end that sent chills down both Kronk AND Gormesh’s spines.
Kronk shook his head, “No, sir, I have no such interest.”
“No? I must be mistaken then. With how fluent you are in our words and customs, I could have sworn when you struck my Ship Master in the face, you were challenging him for his position. Was that not correct?” the captain asked, the condescending tone thick in his words.
“No, sir, it was a simple misunderstanding. I was startled and struck out of instinct. But we…settled with one another. There is no challenge from me.” Kronk quickly defended.
“Oh, good.” Roh’khan nodded in agreement, turning to look at Gormesh. His eyes flickered with fury as he stared down the Naussican, “Its SETTLED then…” the Captain Growled, his voice deep and threatening.
Gormesh was literally trembling, his head tilted towards the ground as he nodded furiously, “Yes Yes Lord! No problems. All friends.”
Turning his attention back to Kronk, he waved a finger between Gormesh and Thra’ssk, “I have enough headache with these two at each other’s throats, I don’t need to add a third rabid Targ to the litter.” He explained, taking a deep, calming breath. “That being said, I understand you are a Federation Lieutenant, but on this vessel, your rank and status are equal to that of Bekka. Klingon Lieutenants are your superiors, and you will answer them accordingly. Understood?”
“Yes, sir, Understood.” Kronk bowed. He looked up for a moment to see Thra’ssk giving him a clawed thumbs up, indicating he was doing well. However, when he looked at Gormesh, the Naussican’s face was twisted with rage, and he silently mouthed ‘I WILL EAT YOU’ at him.
“You are slated to be with us for a Year. Serve me well, and I will ensure you will be treated well. Fail me, and I will leave you on the nearest barely habitable planetoid with a beacon and the hope your federation can retrieve you before you starve to death.” Roh’khan announced firmly. Not needing acknowledgement of his words, the Captain rose from his seat, turning to his first officer, “Find me when we arrive…” he instructed before turning and departing the bridge.
V’ecna stepped forward, now taking her place in the Captain’s chair. “Enough Gawking! Back to work!” She snapped, as Kronk and all other eyes returned to their seats and stations. The Klingon Matron turned to Gormesh and hissed, “Back to your hole, mongrel!”
In response, Gormesh quickly departed the bridge through a small ventilation hatch near the rear terminals, which snapped closed loudly behind the vanishing engineer.
Kronk, however, back in his chair, took the moment to catch his breath. The captain was as imposing as everyone had made him out to be, but he couldn’t help but feel there was far more to the man he would come to understand in their time together. But for now, he survived his initiation. Only time would tell if he survived the ordeal.
[The End]
