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The Klingon Kerfuffle [ShadowOfDesire & ThomasRHellsing]

"Well... I think that likely took care of anything that remained within the cave," Deanna said with a soft groan. She rolled to her back, pressing one hand to her ribs where she'd hit the floor. The suit had absorbed the blow and kept them from cracking, but she'd still felt the impact. She'd likely have a bruise to show for it the following day.

Beverly sat up and removed her helmet, wiping a line of sweat from her brow. She was panting, as well, but was unharmed. Pulling on her water ration, she took a long drink and sighed. "I hope that's all we have to deal with in here. This place is too small for any more of that." She threw a glance at the puddles of alien creatures that were steaming from where they'd fried. All of them leaked a vibrant acidic green blood. "I'd like to know if these are a byproduct of this world's harsh environment. They seem suited for the elements."

"Are you hurt, Mr. Talonis?" Deanna sat up, wincing as she did so, but seemingly unconcerned about her own aches. "Your suit took the brunt of that blast."
 
Thomas chuckled a bit, "Man, when I was hoping me and you ladies would end up sweaty together, this was not what I had in mind."

He took his phase rifle, and said, "As for me, I'm fine. My shield emitters are a bit damaged, but I should be able to rig them to 75%. I'd still like you to do what I asked before Beverly. While it's true checking out my wound is a good idea, I think our dear Councilor will be able to tell if I have acid melting my leg flesh off. After that the way to fix acid burns are apply a base and wrap it. To do a full autopsy on a potentially level 1 biohazard creature is something beyond Deanna."

He looked at the Councilor, "No offense. Please inform me if I'm wrong. I know different councilors take a sub-medical skill. I was told for most though it's First Aid, or Field Medicine, possibly Xeno-Biology not the "Squishy" medicines like surgery."

Talonis brought his phase rifle up and said, "Micro, inform me when we have two feet of penetration."

The mico sensor suite beeped and he fired a wide phase beam. The reason why became obvious as the rock around them seemed to heat to red then cherry hot, fusing together as he efficiently worked the walls, ceiling, and floor of the cave. By using a phaser's wide beam he'd turned the loosely packed dirt and rock into a more solid rock. It was standard H.A.Z.A.R.D. team protocol when dealing with alien life forms that swarmed. Seal off both sides, and then reinforce the tunnel. While it didn't guarantee anything it would make it harder for most burrowers to move through.

Thomas set his Replicator to making 7 more Micros, to provide both light and the best possible sensor array. He then moved to the wall and began to peel back the ballistic plates so Deanna could see his hip. Luckily while the plate was cored about half an inch deep, it had stopped the stinger.
 
"You are not wrong," Deanna confirmed. She had basic medical training, but was useless in a laboratory setting except as an assistant. While Beverly began to set up a secure biohazard containment field so that she could safely examine the remains of the alien creatures, Deanna assisted Thomas with his armor.

"You really should refrain from your off color comments, Mr. Talonis," she warned quietly. "While you might think they are charming, they are not at all professional and neither of us have the sort of relationship with you that allows for friendly banter like you are accustomed to with your team. This mission is as much about evaluating your command presence and capabilities in the field as it is to give me insight on how your team operates. I am not the only one that will be conducting the evaluation. I know that the two of you might have some history together in a professional capacity, but I doubt that Dr. Crusher appreciates your innuendo."

Removing the medical tricorder from her kit, she began to scan Thomas' bruised flesh, checking for any internal injuries that might not immediately present themselves. He'd been struck hard and was lucky to have not been punctured. Her hand rested on his pale flesh, fingers gently assessing the damage, brushing lightly across his skin. She pulled his armor back further to reveal part of his ass and the line of muscles where his thigh joined his torso. Her manner was professional, however, and she did not stray too far into any erogenous zones.
 
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Thomas shrugged, "Ah Doc, you don't get it. This is life, a bad flip of the coin and I'm going to be tied down and tortured to death by pirates. Or ripped open and devoured alive by the locals. Their are two ways to deal with that, suppress it all until you become so tense you shit diamonds and end up swallowing your own phase pistol when you start jumping at cracks. Or you stop giving a damn."

He looked at her, sapphire blue eyes meeting her own brown orbs, smirking at bit as he said, "Pain sticks cause massive internal bruising via using electricity to stimulate the nerve and do superficial but painful damage to the blood vessels. This causes deep tissue bruises that hurts similar to broken bones, takes weeks to heal naturally, but doesn't truly physically impede a person like broken bones or damaged organs do."

The bruise on his hip was bone deep, but only a bruise as he said, "I took a dozen of them, you know how I'm still up? Because I'm channeling the pain working it into a nice right orb deep in my gut. Next time I see a pirate I'm going to tear off one of their arms and beat them to death with it."

He began to peel off the outer armor since they were safe and he needed to rewire the shield anyway. Looking at the woman he said, "I understand why to you and others of Star Fleet I seem unstable. The thing is, I don't really care. The Federation Admiralty board knows that as well. They know I'd have no issues joining a Bejoran anti-Cardassian cell, or a Marki cell, the federation trained me in fighting, interrogation, gave me surgeries to be the best sort of killer they can. Now that I am, they don't want me to do that. After all, Federation heroes joining terrorist groups or anti-federation approved groups, that sends a nasty message. Hell, you've seen my file, if have the shit they've done to me gets out the federation admiralty board will be under audit for breaking their own genetic modification rules."

He looked at her, "As for Crusher, we flirted a bit after I got out of the war. She knows it's mostly harmless. She's one of the reasons I chose the Enterprise. She's the one who kept me alive while I came down off of Jem-Hedar stimulants. While I was behind enemy lines, I took to using them, it causes near instant regeneration even in other beings. The cost is it's stupidly addicting and can over load most beings pituitary and adrenal glands. Crusher saved my life by using flash cloned Klingon glands to replace mine, was well as my heart and liver and kidneys."

He laughed a bit, as he rubbed at one of the bruises on his sternum distractedly, it was already a ugly purple and black as he said, "Should have seen the looks she gave me about being the only woman I'd allow inside of me."

He didn't love Beverly, and honestly even if she was willing to open her bed to him she was a bit too old for him. But the two got on like a house on fire, even if occasionally the woman wanted to set him on fire. She said he reminded her of William Riker and her husband. He respected that it was all in fun but he'd made sure the red head knew he thought she was attractive but didn't expect or want anything more. In a way he saw Beverly as a more practical mother type, and he liked to think she saw him as a son's friend who was always getting into and out of trouble. His own mother wasn't the type to whine about broken bones, or cuts. He shook his head a bit as he said, "Can you see if I have a concussion?"
 
"Luckily, with the advances in modern medicine, you don't have to live with the pain like that." While she couldn't do anything about the bruises themselves until they were back on board the Enterprise, she could alleviate some of his pain. She pressed a hypo to his skin, easing the burden of the injuries. "I'm certain that even without that driving force, you'll still be able to rip off an arm or two and beat the offending enemy," she said with dry amusement. As he removed more of his armor, she straightened to inspect the rest of his body, checking the site that had been struck with the painstiks. Her touch was feather-light upon his skin, moving across his chest, head tilted slightly in inspection. When she saw no other areas of significant damage, she put the hypo away.

Nodding to his request, she gestured for him to sit so that she could examine him easily. A slight frown pulled at her full lips. "If you think you might be concussed, shaking isn't going to help at all." Using the tricorder's wand, she began to scan his cranium for damage, eyes flitting from his face to the device.

"You aren't a prisoner aboard the ship, Thomas," she said quietly. "If you're unhappy, you could always leave. They may not want to let you go for fear of what you might do when you're out from beneath their watchful gaze, but they couldn't stop you if you truly wished to go. Your life is your own. If you stay aboard the Enterprise, it must be for a reason." Her gaze lifted to meet his. "So what is that reason? I know it isn't out of fear of what they might do should you leave. You just said that you don't care. So why continue to suffer through this perceived threat you believe is coming from the admiralty?"
 
"In America in the 20th century they had a saying, "Democracy is the best option, of the worst options."

He ran a hand through his hair, "I know The Federation TRIES. I know they do, and I respect that from them. I know if you told every admiral about half the shit I've been trained to do and told to do, they'd be sickened, repulsed, and offer genuine heart felt apologies to me, and to the enemy I did that to. They would demand an inquiry and do everything in their power to hunt down those who did such things. Hell, honestly half of the admirals who green listed the ops, if you look at their records it was with the knowledge they were damning themselves. They felt that the war deserved such heavy handed reactions, but it was their, and my duty to carry the sins for the Federation. I've been told some suffer night terrors from what they ordered men and women in their service to do."

He looked at Deanna, "I know in my head that no one is pure white when it comes to war. That literally all that exist are shades of grey. In my head I get it, I know it and I accept it. But at the same time it makes me sort of bitter. Especially when people try to quote rules and regulations to me. Like "Oh yeah, I'm sure the Admiral that ordered me to use a knife and some other tools to torture a Klingon woman for more information on their stealth system, that had be meat her until her orbital socket shattered and her eye ruptured. That admiralty board cares about the fact my shoes are a different level of shiny. Or my tie is one centimeter to the right. It doesn't help that I'm not sure if I'm proud of this uniform anymore."

Blue eyes looked at the Councillor, "When you feel pride in what you do, making sure your uniform is proper is easy. Making sure you follow the basic command codes. But when you don't? When you are just doing what you do to get by? When it's people risking their lives, do such things really matter? You know what Star Fleet's death benefits are, they put you in an empty torpedo and launch you into space. What justification can I make to a mother, father, sister, brother, "Oh, your son, your father, your daughter, your sister is dead. Killed because of some screw up I made, but she was wearing perfectly uniform polished shoes at the time.".

He looked at Troi, "How do you put faith in someone that has let you down? How do you give a damn about someone who you know has hurt you before. Without coming across as foolish. Blind Faith is an answer, but I can't make myself do that."
 
After popping the wand back into the tricorder, she took hold of his chin to keep his head steady as she scanned, glancing briefly to meet his eyes but she didn't hold them for long. Her expression was unreadable, a mask she'd perfected from years of counseling others, learning to hide her true emotions so they wouldn't invade her sessions. But she considered his words and they made her sigh. She drew back, closing the tricorder with a snap and shook her head. "Thankfully, you were spared a concussion. There is some superficial bruising, but no damage within. Your skull is thick and the helmet dispersed much of the force. The dose I gave you for your ribs should help with any headache if you have one."

Beverly was busy with her analysis, so Deanna retreated to sit on a rock near Thomas, removing her armor so she could inspect her side. She'd been pushed about quite a bit since they'd arrived on the planet and likely had bruises of her own, though she didn't think any of them serious. Even so, they needed to be examined. As she removed one of the plates, she threw him a glance. "You've expressed similar sentiments before, but still did not answer my question. Why are you here? Democracy can be found in many places. You could be free of the Federation, if you so desired. There are worlds out there that are not under Federation rule or protection. There are ships independent of Starfleet where you could find work, security or otherwise. You might even find a ship of your own to command. It certainly would be within your capabilities."

"So why stay within Starfleet when your faith in the system is gone? Are you looking to rebuild it? Hoping something will arise to allow you to believe once again? Do you believe you can help the Federation become what it should be in your current position? There is a reason why you cling to this life. I'd like to know if it is a voluntary decision borne out of a conscious desire to work toward some goal, or if it is simply out of fear of the alternatives."
 
Thomas shrugged, "Because no one is without their sins? The Vulcans split from the Romulans, arguably making one of the worst cultures in the universe. The Klingons while they have the most "honorable" government can be bastards in their own right. You say I can find a better democracy, but if you really stop and really research it, the least corrupt and crooked government is the Ferengi one, and that's because they are so open it's impossible to call it corruption so much as standard operating procedure."

He looked at the woman, "But the thing is, The federation is TRYING to be better. Most of the other governments aren't. That's why war with the Klingons happens every few decades. Why the Romulans are always a threat. Why Cardassia is a sess pit that the universe would be better off if it was burned to the ground. The Federation has issues, but of all the most broken systems, it TRIES to do better. It TRIES to make peoples lives better. Is it not better to try and fail, then to not try at all?"

He looked at Deanna, "Their are also people like you, like Crusher, like the scientists aboard the Enterprise. Could I let someone else take over their security? Sure. No doubt I could half ass my job, or even have someone competent take over. But then, when something failed and they died. It would be me who felt the guilt. I was the one who screwed up, and let whatever happened happened. If I'm going to be the federations sin eater, I will gorge myself on them, and do everything I can to prevent the lighter side of the federation, those who still believe in the Federation who want to boldly go where no one has gone before, who want to meet and talk to new forms of life and study them. Those people, people like you to some degree are why I stick around. They are the carrot to the universe, willing to smile, and share technology to fix damaged food supplies or wells that have run dry. Always there, and when the next Cardassians, Klingons, Romulans, or whoever decides to take advantage of that person, that they are weak because they show kindness. I'll be the one to show them that just because the federation has a carrot doesn't mean it doesn't have a stick as well."
 
"For what it is worth, I'm rather glad to have that stick on this mission," she said softly, genuine in her compliment. They could have very well died without Thomas' intervention, two times over. For all his haranguing and obvious animosity toward the Federation, he'd been trained well and performed his duty admirably. Only a handful of officers of her personal acquaintance could have walked away from those painstiks, and one of them was a full-blooded Klingon.

As she removed the last of her torso armor, she opened her under suit and opened the tricorder, reversing it to scan herself. It was awkward, but she only had to endure the strange position a few moments as the scanner did its work. One of her ribs was cracked, she knew, but not completely broken. She could feel the strain when she breathed and had endured such pain before. Finally, the device beeped and she looked at the readings to confirm her suspicions. There was little to be done about it until they could return to the Enterprise.

"How long is the storm outside likely to last? I'm not getting any communications signal from the shuttle. I'm assuming that the storm is interfering? Or the fact we're buried beneath solid rock?"
 
Thomas nodded as he said, "That's another reason why. While all governments have their issues, at the end of the day I know more people effected by the Federation then the other governments. I walk away and I'm part of the problem not the solution."

Gently shifting the armor so he could see what it said he pressed his hand to Deanna's side and the rib would quite hurting. Well not quit so much as be a bit more numb. He spoke easily, "Telekinesis is a useful ability when it comes to holding things in place. Should keep it from breaking or floating. Sorry, I forgot you and Bev weren't in full H.A.Z.A.R.D. team armor."

Thomas popped his back as he said, "The Storms never end because of this planet's atmosphere. Instead they tend to travel and move. They are what are considered "Super Storms", they tend to stay in a single area anywhere from 2 hours two a week. The rock wouldn't effect Federation equipment, it's designed to deal with it given how many generations of away teams have had to hide out in caves and tunnels. I'd bet it's the radiation since it by it's nature effects other things on the U.V. and ultraviolet spectrum such as data bursts. Luckily you're dealing with two members of H.A.Z.A.R.D. team, not normal federation security."

Talonis brought out an ancient looking peace of equipment from his transport buffer. A C.B. radio. Soon clicks, and dashes were filling the air, along with a few dashes of white noise. Talonis spoke, "Radio signals are low level radiation, by using a filter you can detect that. Add in a bit of morse code and you have good communication equipment despite communicators not being able to work."

The quarter Klingon waited for the signal to start repeating, before he himself began to decode the message, "Eye visible in the sky, stop. Captain is aware of Pirates stop. Shuttle on stand by stop. Storm bad enough shuttle shields are showing damage stop. Ordered to return until the eye had moved on stop. Suggested wait time, three to five days stop. Any wounded or K.I.A. stop."

Thomas sighed, "The eye of the storm is in essence the center. I was hoping we had just caught the edge of the storm and the eye was a few miles away. With the eye visible, it means we'll be hunkered down longer then I was hoping. Apparently it's already moved some though, so 3 to 5 days we should be able to move."

Talonis began to click and dash his replies, and set it to repeat until a new signal was picked up. He then said, "I'm so glad they figured out the buffer trick, it means we have plenty of supplies and gear. I order all H.A.Z.A.R.D. team members to have enough food and water for a team of 5 for a 7 day week. Local days are 48 hours each. Can you wait and get Beverly fill her in, I'll take out and begin to set up the tent."

Soon Talonis had set up a small log cabin esk tent. It had a main room with a couch, a holo screen pad T.V. beyond that wall were the rooms, each contained a bathroom between two rooms. The commander's room took up the right end of the hall room, the left was a decent sized kitchen. It wasn't really a tent, given thick sheets of phase resistant plastic covered the outside. Spray create was along the bottom as well set up to prevent any burrowing creatures. Obviously it was designed with comfort in mind, but also stealth given how it seemed to absorb light and was hard to see in the cave. Thomas chuckled, "H.A.Z.A.R.D. teams sometimes had to spend weeks behind enemy lines for a single sniper shot. Or interrogating a prisoner. Once I was made commander I began to work on more comfortable dwellings for long term mission points. With access to replicators and transportation buffers the only limit is your imagination and what's programmed. Unfortunetly the medium sized replicator can't make food for some reason. It's got so many supplies for making other stuff that the food is horrible. Luckily preserved stuff can be stored in the buffer. Anyone have issues with bacon cheese burgers for dinner with chocolate milk shakes to drink and chocolate cake for desert?"

So maybe he was attempting to spoil the women a bit, he knew while they were too confident to show it they were worried.He was feeling a bit nervous as well. He'd be glad when Beverly was finished with her autopsy, and they could activate the shields around the dwelling. They weren't perfect but shields and automated turrets were his safety blanket.
 
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