The White Sheep and The Black Wolf Part 32

Starship Captain Kablin shifted his feet angrily as the elevator continued its descent into the bowels of the Malaiki. He had sent several requests for a more modernized ship for his crew all of which were declined by the Hoon'tak Superiors, whose reports read that their present ship was "more than adequte for warfare and equipped to their needs." What outraged Kablin was that the Superiors had not even sent one inspector to justify their quick judgement.

The Malaiki was meerly a converted merchant vessel which was modified to include destructive weapons drives. In truth it was just a junker warship, sewn together with scraps of other destroyed vessels topped with primative weaponry.

But the situation with getting a new ship was not the worst of it. Kablin had sent a myriad of requests to every senior officer (in hope that maybe just one of their approval signatures would catch the eye of the Superiors) that begged for more supplies. Their inventory had dwindled so drastically that there were several cases of malnutrition among the crew. Scurvy had broken out.
It was only Kablin's leadership that kept their spirits up, and from causing mutiny. He knew however that they needed those supplies fast.

The elevator clattered to a stop and its doors parted, revealing the narrow corridor that led to the crew recreational facilities.

Kablin proceeded through the passage, stopping now and then to peer into the crew members' quarters and offer a cheery word. But even his warm words of encouragement did little good to improve their harsh living conditions.

The captain's heart ached in sympathy for his men. Cramped into tiny, filthy chambers, the rooms seem to provide not a place for them to rest but rather more like storage compartments for their weary bodies. The sick clutched to their threadbare blankets in futile attempt to keep out the cold. Their legs and arms were so blue, that Kablin wondered if they could feel their appendages at all. Just another grim reminder that they didn't have the spare electricity to keep even themselves warm. The worst of it was that most of their energy resources went to just barely fueling the basic functions of the ship. Another thing the Superiors had failed to acknowledge.

Kablin pondered on this a bit. If the Hoon'taks truly consider them allies, they would have helped them in their crisis. It seems however that the Superiors were ignoring their cries for help.
Their own ships were equipped for their comfort, so why not the Allied Forces?

He sighed as he headed for the Debriefing Chamber. Another pointless meeting of endless reports of their problems. Nothing seemed to ever be accomplished, only talked about. The doors of the chamber parted before him and he entered...and found a monstrous atrocity standing beside General Zafirr.

Kablin's hand went automatically to his trusty Carbonizer (though he could not remember how he obtained it) by his side. He tried to pull it out but surprisingly his hand wouldn't respond.
Confused, his mind tried to make sense of his ordeal. Then he realized that the beast was psychic.

"Good evening, Captain," Zafirr greeted him curtly. He gestured his head toward his ghastly companion. "This is Admiral Alpha from the Sector Nine-Twelve. He recently just boarded our ship and shall be accompaning us on our invasion."

Kablin glared in distaste at the unkempt creature before him and wondered what the heck the Superiors were thinking when they hired him. He made a once over of the general. The general wasn't really that tall; in fact he was on the short side. With his great girth, age, and deep authoritive voice he commanded attention however.

General Zafirr was human, like Kablin. But there was something amiss about thim. His hard gray eyes were cold and cruel beyond anyone or anything Kablin could imagine. And he seemed to move stiffly like a broken marionette puppet.

Now Zafirr gazed at him with those stones of his. Despite the faraway look in them, Kablin could sense the general was examining him as one would to an insect. Kablin realized that Zafirr was expecting him to respond. He cleared his throat. "Welcome aboard Admiral. It's a honor to have you." He reluctantly held out a hand.

Alpha gripped it, squeezing with strength that matched his physique. Kablin grimaced at the his nails, which were a dark crimson hue, like the color of dried blood. No doubt he would be washing his hands consecutively to rid himself of filth from his hands as well as his mind. "Indeed it should," he growled in a tone that made Kablin flinch.

"The admiral requests a tour of the ship, Captain. I would myself be host if an important matter had not arisen,..." Zafirr trailed off.

Kablin groaned inwardly. He knew that he would have the unfortunate luck of conducting the tour. He nodded. "Of course, general. I will take the responsiblity." Without looking at the visitor, Kablin headed for the door and stood next to it, waiting for the Admiral to proceed.
Alpha did so, and the doors slid open to his presence. A scream filled the air.

Kablin sighed. The tour was already bad news as it was. Now to top off that list of annoyances are the stares his fellow crewmen would give them. Kablin shook his head and followed Alpha. This had "long day" written all over it.

"I didn't get your name, captain," the admiral said as they strode down the corridor.

Kablin frowned in suspicion. "It's Captain Kablin," he finally replied.

"Kablin...that name doesn't do you justice. Such a lowly name for a experienced veteran as yourself."

"You heard about me? From whom?" Kablin was excited. Praises like these were rare. With luck, maybe the Hoon'taks would finally notice him.

Alpha gave him a toothy grin. "I have my sources. You know, I have a better name that might suit you well."

"What's that?"

"Kay."

Kablin stopped their walk. "Kay," he said, trying it on his tongue. "I like that. At least it doesn't mean 'Dung Eater'. "

Alpha let out a rumbling chuckle. "Well Kay, shall we continue our tour?"

The captain smiled. Maybe this admiral wasn't so bad after all. Perhaps he would sigh his signature on his surplus supplies petition. "Yes, let's."