Chapter Text
Part One (Cont'd)
Klath wasn’t the only person who had spent the evening with the distinct feeling that they were being watched. Although at least Denella knew that her particular voyeur was entirely harmless. Even if he was becoming incredibly annoying.
The first day of repairs was drawing to a close, and despite Jirel’s promise to return in good time, she hadn’t seen the Trill since he had left for the admiral’s office. Which meant that, as she had been fearing, it had just been herself and Lieutenant Kapadia, and her meticulously planned repair schedule was being ruined by her even more pressing need to try and keep herself and the gawking officer working as far away from each other as possible.
She eased herself out from underneath the Bounty’s starboard landing strut, having spent the last hour reconfiguring the lateral sensor array, while Kapadia had been tasked with stripping down the heavily damaged port-side winglet on the other side of the ship. Except, as she stood up and gently rubbed her aching back, she realised that Kapadia was actually standing right next to her, idly holding a padd and a hyperspanner.
“Port’s the other side, lieutenant,” she sighed.
Her comment snapped him out of whatever trance he was in, and he immediately started babbling. “Oh, no, sorry, I just—The port side’s all stripped down and ready to go tomorrow. We can start fitting the replacement parts first thing in the morning.”
He looked back at her with a slightly goofy amount of pride. She resisted the immediate temptation to roll her eyes to the heavens. “Ok?” she managed, “Well, this is your starbase. You don’t need my permission to clock off for the day.”
“R—Right,” he stammered, “But I…just wanted to let you know we might have those replacement deflector parts you need.”
He clumsily passed her the padd. She accepted it and glanced at the details.
“It’s not an exact match,” he continued, “B—But we’ve got a set of parts for a Mayweather-class freighter in the stores, and it should be an easy enough job to modify them for your needs.”
“Looks good to me. Thanks. We can start on this tomorrow as well.”
Kapadia nodded and shifted his weight on his feet uncomfortably. She handed the padd back and looked at him with a sigh. “Was there something else?”
“Oh, um,” he started, “I just—I mean, I was working in the—inside the ship earlier, and I noticed that your replicator is…”
“Obliterated?” Denella finished for him, “Yeah, that one’s kind of a long story. But I’ve got a replacement model on the requisition list I made up.”
“I know. Yeah. Um, it wasn’t that—I just thought, seeing as, y’know, the replicator doesn’t work, if you wanted to get some dinner? I know a great place over in the township, and—”
“That’s ok, Lieutenant,” she interjected quickly, “I’m not the dating type.”
Kapadia’s face dropped. “No, wait,” he stammered, “I was—I just meant to, y’know, discuss the repair schedule. I didn’t mean—”
“Yes. You did.”
It wasn’t said with anger, just sadness. She may have been used to Kapadia’s sort of reaction by now, and it may have been harmless, but it still acted as a painful reminder of what she had been, where she had come from. No matter how many years went by, she never really completely escaped the Syndicate.
“And, you know, it’s fine,” she continued, “Same as all the others, you’ve heard the stories, and played the holo programs, maybe even acted out a few little fantasies with an ex or two, and now you’ve actually met a slave girl in the flesh, and you thought you’d see how easy it is.”
“Oh, no,” Kapadia blurted out, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“Enjoy your dinner, Lieutenant,” she said, stopping him from digging any deeper into the hole he’d created for himself, “And I’ll see you in the morning.”
She walked off, leaving a despondent Kapadia standing alone. She suppressed another deep sigh and ran her hands across her tired face, leaving another three fresh grease marks behind on her green skin. As she neared the cargo ramp at the rear of the Bounty, she was surprised, but also glad to see Klath approaching the ship.
“Ugh, Klath, am I glad to—”
The Klingon barely acknowledged her as he walked up the ramp and on into the Bounty, leaving the Orion woman looking somewhat miffed.
“Huh,” she continued, to nobody, “Why is everyone being an asshole today?”
* * * * *
It didn’t take her long to find the Klingon. There weren’t exactly a lot of hiding places on a ship the size of the Bounty. Though she was slightly surprised to find him in the medical bay, checking what appeared to be a small piece of his own tunic under a medical scanner.
“Klath?” she said cautiously, seeing how the Klingon’s hackles were clearly raised, “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” he replied, gruffly. It was the only acknowledgement he paid her, the rest of his focus still on the results of the scan.
Moments later, he looked up from the scanner and growled slightly. He turned and exited the medical bay, heading towards the cockpit. Denella gamely followed, finding him affixing his bat’leth to his back with a sense of urgency, then beginning to work on his tactical console.
“Klath, talk to me,” she persisted, “Don’t you dare go all ‘moody Klingon warrior’ on me. Not after the crappy day I’ve just had.”
He didn’t look up at her, continuing to work on his console. But after a moment, he did reply. “I cannot involve you in this. Please, let me work.”
“Come on. What the hell were you doing in the medical bay? Why’re you tooling yourself up with weapons? What are you checking?”
They were all good questions, but Klath ignored them all. Denella’s frustrations reached breaking point, Knowing what it sometimes took to get the Klingon’s attention, she mentally apologised to the Bounty herself, stepped forwards and slammed her hand down on top of his console with all her might.
Klath jerked his head up to look at her. Attention secured.
“Thank you!” she sighed, “Now, come on, talk. What are you doing?”
After a further moment of contemplation, the Klingon gestured down at the tactical console in front of him. “There was something in my drink, back at the bar,” he explained tersely, “The medical computer suggests that it was some form of toxin.”
Denella took this in her stride. “And you definitely didn’t order it like that? Cos I know how weird some of those Klingon cocktails you like can get…”
Her attempt at brevity was met with a dark glare.
“Someone is trying to kill me.”
The words hung in the air forebodingly. She felt a chill run down her spine. Klath returned his attention to his work. “I must move quickly,” he continued, “I am attempting to gain access to a manifest of recent arrivals on the planet. Passenger craft, sensor traces for smaller vessels—”
“Wait,” Denella said, trying to catch up with what he was saying, “You’re trying to hack into a starbase’s records?”
“You do not think I can?”
The Orion woman looked over at his console, checking the limited progress that he had made and shook her head. “Well, not like that, you can’t,” she scoffed, moving alongside him and taking over.
As she went to start working on the problem, Klath gently put his hand on her arm and caused her to pause. “Denella,” he cautioned quietly, “I alone must take this risk. If they were to detect what we are doing here…”
She considered this for a moment. “You know, I believe your people have a saying for this sort of situation.”
She paused, summoning up an appropriate quantity of phlegm into her mouth before she continued.
“nItebQobqaDjup 'e' chaw'be' SuvwI'.”
Klath was taken aback.
“Been learning a bit on the side,” she smiled, as she turned back to the console and set about breaking half a dozen Federation laws.
Klath’s mouth curved into an appreciative smile. Her pronunciation had been terrible, but the meaning of her words more than came across.
A warrior does not let a friend face danger alone.
End of Part One