[USS Charon, Deck Ten]
"yI-HoH!"
"Qu'vatlh!"
"chay'?"
"yIH!"
Swiftly stepping out of the way of three Klingons thundering down the corridor, the dark haired Vulcan scanned for the little creature which had apparently caused all this havoc. Colorful incentives aside, the words 'tribble' and 'kill it' had been clear enough to explain Kulg'Rek's agitation - though the Bat'leth in a female warrior's hand seemed a touch … excessive.
Well then, her visit to the crew quarters set up for their newest passengers would have to wait until 'Kahless' could be located or else the counselor might lose his beloved pet to a rather enthusiastic bunch of hunters.
That left the interesting question of how the tribble had managed to get loose again and why it had ended up here instead of Miss Betty's kitchen like the last two times.
No fur in sight, nor purring or shrill protest within range of Vulcanoid hearing. Other than his namesake, 'Kahless' seemed to know the value of laying low.
Sakarra rounded an abandoned barrel of bloodwine standing forlorn in the middle of the corridor – if this was not claimed soon, a passing marine might just decide to remove this safety hazard by rolling it towards the barracks and the Vulcan made a mental note to keep track of this vintage's whereabouts – when a tall, familiar shape exited a turbolift.
"Commander Marcus." Giving a courteous nod of greeting, the Vulcan noted the part amused, part harried expression on the human's face and concluded he was here either to retrieve the lost pet or use his influence with the Klingons to stop them from harming it. Perhaps both.
Dylan walked up and nodded to Sakarra. "There is no sign of this fur ball in any of the habitable sections of the ship. I would say it found a nice little place to hide, perhaps the cargo bays?" he smirked.
Kulg'Rek looked at the Human. "Those creatures are a menace!" he shouted.
"That may be, but running around the corridors with bat'leths in hand doesn't strike me as sporting." He shot back at the taller Klingon. "After all it takes a group of heavily armed klingons to hunt down one tiny little patch of fur?"
Sakarra could not help but silently agree, though she was aware said patches of fur were considered mortal enemies of the Klingon Empire.
"A logical conclusion, Commander." Canting her head thoughtfully, the dark haired Vulcan did her best to stop her nose from wrinkling in the Klingon's presence. While not entirely unpleasant, the scent was rather … intense.
"Considering the tribble's unfailing ability to discover edible substances at surprising distance, I would recommend limiting our search to the cargo bays that contain food items."
"I've already gotten my men on that." he said.
"You Federation types talk too much, This is a time for action; or else these vermin will make you regret your hospitality!" the Klingon barked.
Plural? Well, …
"It was my understanding 'Kahless' had been neutered, yes?"
The Vulcan realized immediately that Kulg'Rek had been unaware of the tribble's … unconventional name. Klingons hardly ever made an effort to hide their feelings, and their body language was of the kind that not only waved a colorful array of signaling flags and shouted into your ears, but grabbed you by the collar and shook you – if you weren't simply and quite effectively run over.
For a species as keyed to subtle, delicate cues as Sakarra's, seeing Kulg'Rek change from annoyed to … very much more than annoyed … was equivalent to being hit by a freight train.
Fascinating.
"Well at least that means there is only one to deal with." Dylan smirked as he looked at the Klingon. "You know, if you and your warriors helped, this would go much quicker. besides, it would be a shame to kill something with such an honored name; wouldn't it?" he asked with a wide grin, clearly enjoying this.
The tall grey haired Klingon opened his mouth to say something, then closed it a few seconds later. All that could be heard, was a barely audible curse in klingonese.
Oh, what language. Though it was certainly … colorful.
Pointedly ignoring the massive Klingon's words, Sakarra tilted her head upwards - if she looked rather like a tsh'in trapped between two Sehlat, she certainly was not going to reinforce that impression by backing off as much as a millimeter – and quirked a brow at the Commander's grin.
'Only one' also meant that they were searching for something very small on a rather large ship, but it did not seem to dampen the human's spirits.
Before the Vulcan could comment however – or bid the security officer good hunting, some more Klingon curses could be heard from the vicinity of cargo bay eight. And the unmistakable shrill sound of a tribble disturbed in its lunch by people it did not like in the first place.
If ever Vulcans would allow themselves a sigh, this would have been a good time.
Truly, all that was missing now was Nohtho jumping into the fray, looking for a playmate.
Two arguing warriors came thundering down the hallway, nearly bumping into the tall security officer but stopping just in time. Wisely so.
"pIch vIghajbe'!"
A frowning female seemed unconvinced, but chose not to hit the other warrior after all "Oh? Then how did the thing escape?"
"I believe the logical question would be …" Sakarra found herself stared at by four people, each at least one head taller than the little Vulcan "... not how, but where to, yes?"
I already have men covering all access points to all cargo bays than contain food stuffs as well as replicator stores." Dylan said. "How hard can one ball of fur be to find?" he asked with a wink.
"It's in the Jeff'reeH tubes." The female Klingon growled. "Because this PetaQ was too slow. Now you tell me how easy it'll be to find in there."
"Considering the tribble's speed and the fact our internal sensors are still affected by external circumstances, I estimate a seventy eight point …"
"Vulqangan! Estimate!" the warrior snarled, waving a Bat'leth before the curiously unperturbed tiny woman's eyes "You should use those ears to find it, not your computer brain to estimate!"
Dylan shook his head. This was going nowhere. He tapped his com badge. "Daniels, will you meet with commander Tyrax," he said. "I think I will go with our friendly Klingons, keep them from killing the ship looking for our pet." he smirked.
"A most prudent course of action." Sakarra was about to give the Commander a friendly nod and see about assigning some crewmen to clear up the mess a few enthusiastic Klingons had left in their wake, when her own comm badge chirped and Miss Betty's voice emerged "Ah, hello, commander? I don't want to bother you but would you mind sending someone to the kitchen? The Captain's puppy has already gotten into the prawns and, well, the little furry one fell right into the petit fours. Not that I don't like the two sweet things, but I really need to get dinner ready …"
"Acknowledged, Miss Betty."
If ever there was a Vulcan expressing both suppressed laughter and exasperation in one eloquently raised brow, it was the one standing surrounded by Klingons and a tall human.
Commander Dylan Marcus
Chief Security Officer
USS Charon
Lt.Commander Sakarra Tyrax
Executive Officer
USS Charon
Kulg'Rek
Klingon Security Div.
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