The buildings of Colludea were as beautiful as they were varied, showcasing influence from many different cultures and eras of architecture on earth. They did have some features in common, though, such as integration with nature, window features that emphasized the orange glow of their sun, and an aesthetic that belied their sturdy construction.
Ang was admiring all these features, as well as the cool harbor breeze, while his partner Rurj’ tested the ability of the building to withstand the onslaught of an agitated Klingon warrior and tea master.
“Do you have the permits for ritual blood-letting on file?” Rurj’s voice swept like a maelstrom out of the building and into the doorway where Ang was seated on the steps.
“Ye~es,” Ang answered in a sing-song voice to the tune of ‘I’ve answered that question three times already’.
CLOMP CLOMP CLOMP CLOMP CLOMP. The voice echoed from another corner of the small, homely building. “The environmental controls in this dwelling are insufficient for the required temperature range!”
“There’s a portable system in the back,” Ang answered again as he watched a flock of seabirds circle a picnic at the nearby beach.
CLOMP CLOMP CLOMP CLOMP CLOMP. The voice grew closer. “We must be sure the poem books are stacked in chronological order!”
“I already have!” Ang smoothed out the sleeve of his kimono and sighed contentedly as the scents from a nearby bakery wafted by on the breeze.
CLOMP CLOMP CLOMP CLOMP CLOMP. Ang could feel Rurj’ standing right behind him. “THIS is why the environmental controls struggle! You’re sitting here with the door open to the breeze!”
“Of course I am,” said Ang. “When was the last time either of us got to bask in a planetary atmosphere?”
He tugged at the hem of Rurj’s robe, and Rurj’ plopped down obediently next to him. “Besides,” Ang added, “Haven’t you noticed by now that I’ve double-checked everything?”
Rurj’ huffed. “Of course you did. But my muscles ache for movement. I want these humans and other aliens to understand the profundity of the Klingon tea ceremony.”
“Don’t worry,” said Ang, resting an arm on Rurj’s shoulder. “They’ll be impressed. Once foot traffic picks up around here, anyway.”
The sounds of people walking past was nothing short of plentiful a little while later; but one particular pair, or *pairs*, stood out. Ang and Rurj’ shared glances with one another before a commotion near the front of the entryway allowed for two figures to stumble in. A Ferengi, and a Catian. Starfleet.
“I told you we have—“ The Ferengi man hesitated for a second as he glanced around at his surroundings. The Caitian behind him trilled unhappily at the sight.
“It appears we have our first guests!” Ang clapped his hands together and smiled serenely before disappearing into a side room.
Rurj’ nodded to him as he left, then gripped the belt of his robe and puffed out his chest as he approached his first victims. “I see that Starfleet’s reputation for curiosity remains intact,” he said, eyeing their uniforms. “Tell me, friends, have you experienced the Klingon Tea Ceremony before?”
“The what.” Runt frowned, scowling at the decorations. Before he could say anything else too offensive, the Ferengi steped forward with a slightly forced smile. He was not used to being the social one out of the two.
“No! But. . .do tell us more.” Hollis clasped his hands together, smiling uncomfortably wide. Behind him, Runt tried to tip toe out, but was instead promptly grabbed by the collar by Rurj’.
