Chapter 6- The Problem with Klingons

I almost wished I hadn't asked Spock how transporters worked. The slow tearing apart of molecular bonds and gluing copies of them back together again somewhere else really disturbed me. They say that ignorance is bliss and in this case it was most certainly true, it seemed it was all I could think about. Now it all made sense- the 'accidents' that left people with missing or rearranged parts, the 'loss' of a signature that forever scattered you to the winds. It was important to note that accidents didn't happen often, but it only took one time in my opinion. It was all so much easier when it just looked like a magic trick.

It was only day three with the Klingons on board and already they had overstayed their welcome in the estimation of most of the crew. Arguments were becoming increasingly common as small slights such as not waiting in line for the lift or taking turns using the replicators often devolved into shouting matches. To the Klingons, might made right so if they could shove their way to the front of the line, it was their right to do so as the stronger breed. Sickbay was swamped with a constant flow of Starfleet members in need of first aid when the shouting came to blows.

One poor engineer became the victim of an impromptu game of hide and seek in the engine rooms when a Klingon child snuck down there and hid in a compartment until he walked by. The rules governing the well known game apparently differed between the species. Instead of the seeker tagging the hider out, Klingon hiders attacked seekers in order to disable them. The engineer sustained a very nasty bite wound to his lower leg in a game he didn't even know he was playing. Surprisingly, Scotty thought it was funny but now carried a large wrench with him at all times just in case.

It was difficult for the crew because they were stuck in a terrible position. As representatives of the Federation, they were expected to show grace and courage in the face of the numerous insults they endured. Yet when push came to shove, they were not permitted to use any weaponry to defend themselves although the Klingons were under no such restrictions. Thus, as a safety measure, people began traveling in groups hoping that being in a pack would discourage an escalation in violence. This was not always the case, sadly. Still, McCoy and I traveled together whenever we entered or left sickbay. He always carried a fully loaded hypo and insisted it wasn't a weapon- it was a tool of his trade that he would not hesitate to use. I had enough experience not to doubt him for a second. It was horrible feeling like a hostage on your own ship.

I can't express the amount of sheer joy it gave the crew when the Klingons figured out how to access the ship's paging system. The native language was harsh like sandpaper on the ears and it was random, but almost constant. One of the nurses expressed a concern that the Klingons may have been plotting a hostile takeover of the ship, because no one spoke the language we wouldn't see it coming. It seemed a logical possibility given the nature of the culture, so McCoy and I crept along the hallways to the lift like some special forces team and went to the bridge. When we arrived, Uhura held her head in her hands as yet another audio assault began. Spock looked to the ceiling and raised his eyebrow. His face was neutral, but by the look in his eye he was clearly irritated. Chekov covered his ears.

"What are they saying?" McCoy shouted over the flood of harsh consonants and growling.

Uhura shook her head and sighed, "They are insulting each other. The last one just told someone named Mor'tah his mother has a smooth forehead." McCoy and I looked at her in confusion. "The knots on the forehead are a sign of lineage. The bigger the better." She explained.

"Captain, is there any way we can make them stop before my ears start bleeding?" Sulu pleaded.

Jim attempted to reply, but was cut off by another barrage. "Mor'tah told Kornan his mother was a tribble." Uhura translated. Jim thought that was hysterical.

I leaned close to McCoy and asked, "What's a tribble?"

He used his hands to indicate a circle approximately 8 inches in diameter and replied, "Little furry balls that purr. All they do is eat and reproduce if you feed them too much."

I frowned and clarified, "Like Gremlins when you get them wet?"

"Uh….sure." He answered sarcastically. He obviously didn't have a clue what a Gremlin was.

Yet another message came across the intercom and Chekov let his head fall heavily onto his console in torment. "That's it!" Jim yelled from his chair. "Chekov! Wait for them to take a goddamn breath and cut in on the chat fest. Tell the ship we are shutting down the com system and switching to communicators. Every crewmember should have one and we will be using them until further notice. Mr. Sulu, can't you make the ship go warp 20 to get us to the damn starbase any faster?!"

"Negative, Sir." Sulu chuckled, "If there were any way possible I would."

"Fine." He huffed. "Mr. Spock, you have the com. I am going to go duct tape myself to the hull until we reach Klingon airspace." He got up and stormed toward the lift with McCoy and I in tow.

"Very well, Captain. Will you have your communicator with you in the event I must contact you?" He asked dryly.

"Getting it now." Jim grumbled.

"I don't know how much longer we can do this, Jim." McCoy sighed rubbing the bridge of his nose. "We are running low on first aid supplies because these smelly bastards think it is perfectly fine to take a swipe at someone's head for looking at them sideways. They have taken over the rec room and yesterday I found one of them passed out on the floor of the lift."

"What was wrong with him?" Jim asked leading the way to his quarters.

"Drunk off his ass." McCoy replied rolling his eyes. "So I just left him there. Fuck him. The lit bastard was still there when I went to dinner."

"I know, Bones, but this wasn't my idea. Starfleet thinks that they might join the Federation if we show them some mercy. I told the Admiral it was bullshit. Klingons are mercenaries. They will take the ride back to their territory and then at some random time attack us when it suits them. Their loyalty lies with the highest bidder." He sighed and looked around his room with a frown. "Now where did I put my damn communicator?"

"How in the hell would I know?" McCoy grumbled. "I see nothing has changed since the Academy."

Jim looked at his friend and smiled. "Bonsey! Can I have yours?"

"Then what the hell am I going to use? In case you forgot, I have a whole medical department to run. I just might need it." He scowled.

"You can use Collins'. The two of you are practically joined at the hip anyway." Jim laughed.

McCoy narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice. "It is for safety so neither of us gets jumped by one of the boogeymen, you dick."

Jim crossed his arms and smiled wide. He clearly thought McCoy was full of shit. "I do not have one." I interjected. "I only have a PADD but I can help you look for yours."

"If you were a bit more organized, Jim, we wouldn't have to waste our time with this." McCoy scolded, still simmering from being called out. He retrieved his communicator from a box and began to search through the desk drawers for Jim's.

"In a hurry to get back to sickbay?" Jim casually taunted looking through his closet.

"I probably have a line out the door by now." McCoy grumbled opening and then slamming the drawers one by one.

I looked under the bed and struck gold- in more ways than one. I found his communicator under a pair of lavender silk and lace panties. You would think someone would be missing those- unless Jim had a secret I didn't know about. "Found it!" I declared waving it in the air. I decided discretion was the better part of valor and kept the presence of the panties to myself even though I found a passing comment about Jim's cross dressing almost too juicy to pass up. After all, had McCoy been the one to find it, he would have been merciless with his taunting.

We had about an hour left in the shift, so we returned to deck 5. We were just about to turn the corner when we were both blindsided by a very angry Klingon. He smashed us both into the wall as though he were cross checking in hockey. McCoy and I went crashing into the immobile wall with more force than I thought was possible and then we fell to the floor. I was startled both by the unprovoked aggression and the momentary disorientation that came with having your brain sloshing about in your skull. Even though my vision was fuzzy, I saw the Klingon point at McCoy who had sat up slowly holding his head. Both made unintelligible noises that sounded similar to me, but I guessed McCoy was muttering in pain while the Klingon was simply speaking.

The Klingon grabbed him by the shirt and roughly hauled him to his feet as though he weighed nothing and began yelling until a thick foam of saliva formed around his jagged teeth. McCoy's eyes were glazed at first and he watched the Klingon's mouth move in placid confusion, but slowly his eyes became sharper as he regained his faculties. I watched his hand slowly snake into a pocket while his eyes remained fixed on the angry Klingon's face. In one quick movement, he jabbed the hypo under the Klingon's chin and pulled the trigger. The Klingon dropped him and stumbled backward in a daze before falling to the floor with an awesome thud. McCoy took a few small steps forward and leaned over him, swaying slightly on his feet while he placed two fingers on the Klingon's neck to check for a pulse.

"He's good." He declared standing up rubbing his temples in a circular motion. "Fucker."

I stood up and was hit by a wave of dizziness and nausea. I knew exactly what that meant. "What was that all about?" I asked trying to breathe deeply to quell the urge to vomit.

"I think that was the dumbass I threatened yesterday." He sighed. "But I can't really be sure. Are you ok?"

"About as well as you." I said shortly. "Which is to say not really."

"Shit." He muttered. He knew as well as I did that we had to get checked out and that likely meant an automatic 3 day medical for concussions. "There's no getting out of this, is there?" He asked despondently. Translation- 'you are going to tell on me aren't you?'

"I don't know about you, McCoy, but I would rather take a 3 day over having permanent brain damage. I kinda like not having my only talent being sitting upright in a chair drooling." I smiled.

"Good point." He squinted but I couldn't tell if it was one of his usual expressions or if it was because his head hurt. "Let's get this over with then."

"What are you going to do about him?" I asked pointing at the unconscious Klingon.

He looked down at him and replied, "Leave him there. After his nap he will wake up none the worse for wear. Fuck him. That's what he gets for attacking me."

"I hope he doesn't come for you." I sighed.

"If things go as I think they will, we will both be flat on our backs in our rooms for the next 3 days. He will have to find me first." He stated slyly.

"Good point." I agreed holding my head as we walked the short distance to sickbay to check ourselves in.