Post by Deleted on Mar 10, 2019 11:21:00 GMT -8
The past few hours had been extremely odd and Kinin’s head pounded almost as much as the machinery nearby. Folding her arms, she watched as the final touches to the metal were applied by a skilled craftsman; soon the metal would take its place on the ship outside the window.
She didn’t belong there.
The leather was constricting, a less forgiving garment than that of her Starfleet uniform. She wanted to access the computers, but had been verbally chastised the last time she tried to walk away from what was, apparently, her post. From what she had gathered so far, she was on some highly classified Klingon manufacturing facility, guarding who knows what, her rank the lowest possible. From babysitting cadets, to babysitting machinery.
But how?
She closed her eyes, her mind calling out to Robin. He had heard her before. If he was near, he-
“Karja,” a voice called to her and it took a moment to realize he was referring to her. Her real name. “This is the last time I will tell you to attend to your duties,” the large male Klingon growled at her.
Concealing the anger that was building, she simply gave him one strong nod before fixing her eyes on the activity taking place. It was monotonous, mind numbing, the job for a Klingon who had lost honor somehow and was being punished for actions unknown. A hover cart was escorted past her and her eyes widened at the weaponry contained upon it. Advanced. When had the Empire gained such-
A blow to her head sent her spinning to the floor. She rose up quickly, facing her attacker, the male from earlier.
“You are dismissed,” he bellowed, disgust on his face. “Go to your quarters, pack up your belongings, and get off this station. Your work permit has now been revoked.”
It took every ounce of Federation training within her not to escalate the situation as he turned his back on her. She needed answers, and she wouldn’t find them if she was dead.
Tag no one
She didn’t belong there.
The leather was constricting, a less forgiving garment than that of her Starfleet uniform. She wanted to access the computers, but had been verbally chastised the last time she tried to walk away from what was, apparently, her post. From what she had gathered so far, she was on some highly classified Klingon manufacturing facility, guarding who knows what, her rank the lowest possible. From babysitting cadets, to babysitting machinery.
But how?
She closed her eyes, her mind calling out to Robin. He had heard her before. If he was near, he-
“Karja,” a voice called to her and it took a moment to realize he was referring to her. Her real name. “This is the last time I will tell you to attend to your duties,” the large male Klingon growled at her.
Concealing the anger that was building, she simply gave him one strong nod before fixing her eyes on the activity taking place. It was monotonous, mind numbing, the job for a Klingon who had lost honor somehow and was being punished for actions unknown. A hover cart was escorted past her and her eyes widened at the weaponry contained upon it. Advanced. When had the Empire gained such-
A blow to her head sent her spinning to the floor. She rose up quickly, facing her attacker, the male from earlier.
“You are dismissed,” he bellowed, disgust on his face. “Go to your quarters, pack up your belongings, and get off this station. Your work permit has now been revoked.”
It took every ounce of Federation training within her not to escalate the situation as he turned his back on her. She needed answers, and she wouldn’t find them if she was dead.
Tag no one