Guess Who's Coming to Dinner - Part III

Posted on Fri Oct 24th, 2025 @ 9:58pm by Captain Robert Burke & Commander Vincent 'Vin' Salvatore & Lieutenant Marques Hunt & Lieutenant Juno Jones & Lieutenant Kyra sh'Herhrisst & Lieutenant Nelar & Lieutenant Ryssa Dari & Lieutenant JG Maël "Gideon" Beauregard & Lieutenant JG Gianna De Luca & Ensign Shanice Winters

1,312 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: EPISODE 1: SHAKEDOWN
Location: Great Hall
Timeline: MD036

::ON::

Moments after crossing oblivion, Burke rematerialised and surreptitiously checked that all his extremities had arrived with him. I assume my spleen arrived too, he mock-admonished himself. Transporter technology was proven, as safe as spaceflight.

He craned his neck to look around the cavernous room they had transported into. The roof, high and vaulting was some sort of cream colour, presumably to help with the torches ringed about the walls that gave out wan light as the guttered and flickered in their sconces. Most of the walls were draped with battle flags of various ages. One, faded, worn and sporting holes in its fabrics was protected by a shimmering forcefield. Probably predates First Contact with them, Burke thought, aching to cross the space and examine it.

Looking towards the great double-doors ahead of them, Burke was puzzled to see that there was no welcoming committee. He recalled the communique mentioned a seneschal and an honour guard.

'I guess we wait ...' he said to the air.

"Honor our visit with a formal dinner because they have to and make us wait to show their disdain," Ryssa said half to herself and half aloud. "Sounds about right."

Gideon let out a low whistle, the sound echoing throughout the chamber. "Guess we're meant to stew a bit."

Ryssa nodded. "Passive aggression at its best."

"Maybe it's all part o' the charm," Gideon said, running a finger along what appeared to be a brick shelf, knocking dust and soot to the floor.

Lieutenant Juno Jones could clean up nicely, the layers of grease and grim scrubbed off and their porcelain complexion polished. Their stance proper, looking rather poised. Throw a dress uniform on Juno and they could be notably handsome to some.

"I cannot believe we're doing this," commented Juno. "With the Klingons. It seems so peculiar." commented Lieutenant Jones. Not that they were complaining about it.

"Why does it seem peculiar?" Ryssa asked.

"To see us squirm I'd imagine," interjected Gideon, examining a tattered battle standard that hung on the rough stone wall.

'They're not dumb,' Burke said. 'Anything is honorable in the protection of the Empire,' he sounded like he was quoting from a textbook as he studied the banner closest to him. Battle of the Binary Stars he noted with a faint susurration of disgust. 'They want to remind us we're not that much higher and mightier than they are. Or just that someone on the staff doesn't like us.

Gideon dragged his thumb along the hem of his left cuff and snorted. "Y'know," he said, glancing toward the tattered banner that Burke was staring at, "I remember the first time I ever laid eyes on a Klingon up close. Three or so years ago. Back when I was greener'n the warp core casing on the Santísima Trinidad."

His eyes unfocused for a long moment, and his drawl mellowed into something closer to storytelling than banter. "We were runnin' relief to a mining colony near Korvat," he went on. "Two Birds-of-Prey come limpin' along at impulse--looked like they'd near clawed each other to bits."

He began a slow stroll around the room, pausing in front of Juno and Kyra before continuing.

"'Side from the impulse engines and life support, they were good as dead. Shields flickerin' like candlelight in front of an open window. Captain ordered us to hold position, just outside disruptor range, and I remember thinkin' Lord, what kind of fool do you have to be to pick up wounded Klingons?"

Gideon smiled faintly, his eyes jumping back and forth between equal parts amusement and memory. "But the Captain--God rest him--he believed in Starfleet's creed to the letter. Even the enemy deserves a fightin' chance. So we locked on, beamed over a repair team, and I got picked 'cause I was the youngest engineer on rotation and dumb enough to volunteer."

"The logic questionable, it is the Starfleet way, is it not?" Nelar commented.

The Operations Chief from Louisiana chuckled. "Yeah, that's the Starfleet way all right--heroism with a side of bad judgment."

"When we got over there," he went on, "the ship was barely holdin' together. Hull looked like it'd been chewed on. The Klingons were bleedin' out and barkin' orders at one another, and I remember thinkin' how alive they were. Loud. Bleedin'. Cussin'. But alive. There was one--an old man, half a ridge missin'--he took one look at me and spat. Missed my boot by about an inch."

He smiled faintly at the memory. "Told me I was too small to be an engineer. Said if I was gonna fix their engines, I'd better crawl inside it." He winked at Ryssa.

"So I did it," he said simply. "Got down there with the core runnin' hot enough to cook a pot roast. Sealed a small breach, rerouted their plasma feed, damn near lost an eyebrow, too. When I crawled back out, that old Klingon was sittin' there on the deck, laughin' his fool head off. Said I had more fight in me than I looked."

'Sounds like you passed some sort of test he'd set you,' Burke remarked as he tore his gaze from the banners all around them. None had been so pointed as to refer to any of his crew's specific engagements, he thought.

"They didn't say thanks, if that's what you're gettin' at, Cap." Gideon chuckled under his breath.

Unlike most of the others, Vincent didn't mind the wait. He kept his calm and just walked around slightly, his eyes turning to look at the structure and design. The decor was interesting and, to be fair, very Klingon. He's seen most of this style before, so a part of him expected as much, but this was the Great Hall. The place were Klingons and their honor was acknowledged. Their glories were etched in story and history. It was his first time seeing this place, having heard so much about it, so he was going to enjoy it while he could.

Marques simply kept an eye on every exit in the room. As watchful as he was, one would think he worked insecurity. This was supposed to be a simple dinner, but with Klingons you learned to expect the unexpected.

Taking in everyone's demeanor. Ensign Winters wondered how keeping their guest waiting for some kind of advantage was considered honorable. Being a diplomat, she studied all about the Klingons before they ever entered their region of space. Yet, their actions at times still confused her. There was no rhyme or reason, and many would say that Klingons could be quite petty at times.

Even though Gia was well aware on most people's stances toward the Klingons, she herself was starting to get slightly impatient but yet chose to remain positive about the entire event and there would have been a good explanation. Still, it wasn't customary to keep guests waiting for long periods of time.

The doors groaned open, just at the point where even Burke's patience was beginning to run dry. He turned to face the doors as the torches guttered in their sconces as the air currents changed. Beyond the door, behind the tall, bald Klingon that was pushing them open, he could hear the din of a Klingon feast getting under way.

[To be continued ...]

Captain Robert Burke
Commanding Officer
USS Hecate

Commander Vincent Salvatore
Executive & Chief Intelligence Officer
USS Hecate

Lieutenant Kyra sh'Herhrisst
Chief Security Officer
USS Hecate

Lieutenant Marquis Hunt
Chief Flight Control Officer
USS Hecate

Lieutenant Juno Jones
Chief Engineer
USS Hecate

Lieutenant Ryssa Dari
Chief Science Officer
USS Hecate

Lieutenant Nelar
Chief Medical Officer
USS Hecate

Lieutenant JG Gianna De Luca
Chief Counsellor
USS Hecate

Lieutenant JG Maël "Gideon" Beauregard
Chief Operations Officer
USS Hecate

 

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