Thursday, December 16, 2010

[USS Charon] SD241012.16 || Joint BackLog "yIH!" or "Love and Tribbles" || LtJG "Razor" Dor'Hek, Ensign Anne Cooper

=/\= USS Archer, some corridor or other  =/\=

Picking up Tribbles was an overwhelming task. Anne took some of the time she was supposed to be sleeping to search out Razor. The computer said he was in the Cargo Bay, so there she went.


yIH. Everywhere. But they wouldn't get his bloodwine, not while he had breath to draw. Oh no. Oh no, no, no.

Dor'Hek sat cross legged on a huge barrel, a bat'leth on his lap and a fierce scowl on his face. There was a blessedly Tribble-free space around him as the wretched creatures scurried away from his immediate presence, but beyond that perimeter … trilling. Purring. General fluffiness. All over the place.

The tall half-Klingon barely heard the cargo bay doors open with their characteristic whine over all the noise but movement caught his eye and he half-raised his blade, expecting more fluffy cohorts to pour in. As it happened, the sight was a much, much more welcome one. Razor smiled though the overall effect was more that of a Klingon with a toothache. "Anne. Have you come to stand with me in battle?"


She tilted her head and smirked, "I've been fighting already." She chuckled and tossed him a bag, "Please don't kill or eat them. Just pick them up and put them in the bag." She stepped closer and touched his face, "Seems you're not as allergic as our XO."


"You have?" Dor'Hek squared his shoulders with pride. Of course she would, brave little heart that she was. But then he deflated a little, a frown crossing his face "Eat those … those things? Why would I ever …"

The bag landed squarely in his lap, draping artfully over the Bat'leth. Pick them up?

"You want me to touch them?"

Dor'Hek's face contorted into a grimace of disgust, soothed a bit by Anne's gentle fingertips against his bristling beard. Not allergic. Hadn't helped Korath much to be allergic, had it. Besides, one needn't sneeze all over the place to despise those … things.


What he really wanted to do was vent these … abominations into space, though that would probably be against regulations or something. Couldn't just litter the place like that.

The low, harsh growl emanating from his chest made a few more Tribbles shriek and the circle around Dor'Hek got a tad wider. 


She smirked and resisted the instinct to use baby talk. "Come on, now. It's an order from the first officer. The one that's about to sneeze himself into space, even. So, if he can do it. Ya know, warrior honor and all." She tugged at his arm a bit and looked around, frowning a bit, "If they'll let you near them."

Then her eyes widened as a light bulb went off. She put another hand on the other side of his face and kissed his lips, "Brilliant!" She grabbed his bag and moved to the middle of the room, "Just chase them this way. They'll likely crawl INTO the bag to get away from you."


Razor groaned. And if it had been anyone but Anne asking him this – yes, even Korath or that feisty little Betazoid – he might have told them to stick it … well, wherever they liked, really. Or not.

Warrior honor. If he were allowed to act like a Klingon, these things would have ceased to exist hours ago.


"Mwah? Grg." Okay, that kiss had come a bit out of the blue. But at least he hadn't fallen off the barrel. That had to count for something, right? A dreamy if not outright goofy grin spread over Dor'Hek's face as he saw lovely Anne enthusiastically bustle about with her bag and after a minute or so his head even caught up with what she had said.

Chase them. Well, he could do that.

"bIHegh!" he swung himself off the barrel and watched with glee as the fluffy things scrambled away. Rolled. Whatever. But they went in all directions, not just …

"Hold it open, bangwI', I have an idea!" Uttering a fierce snarl, Razor scooped up some frantic Tribbles with the point of his sword and watched as they sailed right into the bag. It was a bit like a Targ scoop, and target practice, too. "Here they come!"

She'd been right. They practically fell over themselves to get into the bag, away from the happily growling Klingon. And those that escaped learned how to fly.


After awhile of this new game of toss and chase the Tribble, Anne smiled at him. Most of the Tribbles in that area seemed tucked away in the bags. She beamed with pride, "Very good work!" She walked over to him and since they were technically off duty, gave him a congratulatory kiss. Sweet, tender, and a bit deeper in passion than she had let herself get with him. But it was safe. Neither were hormonal enough to do more than kiss in the cargo hold. So it was a fun way to let loose without danger of letting it control her.


That kiss alone had been worth it. Though for several seconds Razor stood dumbstruck, Bat'leth in one hand and the other slowly sliding around Anne's waist, careful not to lift her off her toes. By the time the half-Klingon got his bearings, he growled tenderly and noted with satisfaction that it made those Tribbles still at large seek the next best exit.

"Wstfgl." It wasn't that he couldn't talk. It was just that every time Anne did that the connection between brain and mouth … got fried. So Dor'Hek settled for a smile while holding the lovely young human to his broad chest, lightly as a feather. At least until he could trust his speech center again.

"Soooo what do we do with the rest?"  He doubted that venting at least those into space would go over well, but a Klingon could hope …


"Those we still have to gather. Maybe ... Maybe we can record your growl and play it everywhere but here to gather them in one spot."


Razor's booming laugh echoed off the bulkheads. "You should have gone into science, banI'. But we'll need more of your funny little bags, too." Gently removing his tree-trunk like arm from the lovely Anne, Dor'Hek sauntered over to a replicator, taking the time to sneer at some hastily retreating Tribbles.


Anne nodded and as he went off to the replicator, she quickly used her PADD to look up the Klingon word.

She blinked at the translation, but then smiled. If there were time for it, she would have floated so high she'd have to transcend the ship's metal confines.

But, for now, she simply sighed wistfully and re-focused on the task at hand. And also on his comment, "But yeoman is the most direct path to a command position. Sure, people in specific departments get there as well, but they have to become department heads before they can even
veer into the center lane. I'm already here." The wait and experience needed likely wasn't any different, but even driving in Earth traffic, she never liked changing lanes much. Vertically or horizontally.


Four … nah, five bags. Better be on the safe side. Those things multiplied like … well, yIH. The replicator spluttered and coughed in what the Klingon thought a bit unhealthy ways but it produced the stuff so it had to be fine. Only the bright purple looked a bit odd. Hadn't he ordered olive?


"Direct path." Razor couldn't help an admiring light in his eyes. She was sure what she wanted and not afraid to go for it which in the Klingon's mind was only another facet of Anne worthy of adoration. "I never thought of it that way. I was always good at shooting things, and I like things that go fast. I guess I could have gone with the Marines because they see battle as often as fighter pilots but once the birds have their hooks in you …" Razor shrugged, causing a Tribble that had desperately clung to a bulkhead to shriek and drop straight into the bag he held open "… you can't give them up. Starfleet needed RIO's because the Dominion was blowing up their fighters faster than they could build them or train replacements. They offered me all I ever wanted. A pilot to look after, a brand new bird, and an enemy to shoot at. And they even pinned another pip on me." Grinning broadly, Razor looked over Anne's shoulder "Whenever you're ready. And how about a drink later?"


"Well, as ambitious as I am, I can't risk stepping on any more toes. I better get with the Captain about this idea before we fill the ship with your growls. And, if coffee can count as a drink, sure. I need to be pumped with caffeine. Lots of it."


"Meet you in the lounge, then? After you cleared the idea with the boss?" Razor smiled shyly, motioning at the Tribble-filled bags "And I can … drop these off if you want. Where do they go?" It was as much a declaration of his devotion to Anne as anything, volunteering to … spend more than another second with those things.


Anne nodded and smiled, "I would appreciate that. I would say no thank you, but my arms are already like noodles lugging bags full of Tribbles. Those things get heavy all together."


Dor'Hek squared his shoulders like a general who's just heard the news his army has made second place and gave the bags a long hard stare. The sight of several large duffels trying to hop for an exit was … satisfying. "Ha! Right. I shall see you later, bangwI'. I have yIH to deliver!"



=/\= End Log =/\=


Ensign Anne Cooper



LtJG "Razor" Dor'Hek


TDS 242 (Chimera Squad)

(NPC apb I-Chaya)


USS Archer