Post by Deleted on Aug 10, 2014 16:14:01 GMT -8
Reappearing on the bridge of the Tok'magar, M'Khol attempted to put on his war face, only to remember that his forehead was smoother than a Klingon infant's behind. He growled. Klingon facial reconstruction surgery was not a list on his top ten things to do today. Then again, his forehead was smooth. He growled.
"Captain?" called out a bekk from operations.
He growled something that sounded like an assent. "We do not have transporter lock yet. We will transport as soon as we do."
"Good. I will be in..." he couldn't bring himself to say "Sickbay." "Fixing my ridges," he said instead. The Tok'magar was smaller than he was used to. The Kor'Oc, official flagship of the house of Vor'Aq, was far more suitable. Then again, it was also very, very large, and their mission dictated that they needed stealth.
A moment later, he lay on a bed in Sickbay. "Ridges. Now."
"Big ridges?"
M'Khol scowled, jabbing a picture of himself on a padd. "Those ridges."
"I can give you bigger ones?"
"Those are fine." Big ridges were obnoxious. They caused more trouble than they solved. The surgeon went to work, and M'Khol forced his features to remain neutral. Still, surgery, even cosmetic surgery, was painful. Still, if he got all whiny about it, he would never live it down, particularly since his first officerwas sitting next to him. "Who is on the planet?"
"Ch'Koruth," the Commander answered.
"And he has the pendant?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. She will come with him, I think. Then we will go to the Kor'Oc."
"Good. I do not like this vessel."
"I don't either."
"Too small."
"Captain?" called out a bekk from operations.
He growled something that sounded like an assent. "We do not have transporter lock yet. We will transport as soon as we do."
"Good. I will be in..." he couldn't bring himself to say "Sickbay." "Fixing my ridges," he said instead. The Tok'magar was smaller than he was used to. The Kor'Oc, official flagship of the house of Vor'Aq, was far more suitable. Then again, it was also very, very large, and their mission dictated that they needed stealth.
A moment later, he lay on a bed in Sickbay. "Ridges. Now."
"Big ridges?"
M'Khol scowled, jabbing a picture of himself on a padd. "Those ridges."
"I can give you bigger ones?"
"Those are fine." Big ridges were obnoxious. They caused more trouble than they solved. The surgeon went to work, and M'Khol forced his features to remain neutral. Still, surgery, even cosmetic surgery, was painful. Still, if he got all whiny about it, he would never live it down, particularly since his first officerwas sitting next to him. "Who is on the planet?"
"Ch'Koruth," the Commander answered.
"And he has the pendant?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. She will come with him, I think. Then we will go to the Kor'Oc."
"Good. I do not like this vessel."
"I don't either."
"Too small."