Paint and Powder

A Star Trek anthology by Andrew Joshua Talon

DISCLAIMER: This is a non-profit fan based work of prose. Star Trek: The Next Generation, Deep Space Nine, Voyager et al are the property of CBS Television, and creation of Gene Roddenberry. Please support the official release.

Thunderchild grinned happily as she entered Quark's with the rest of her crew. Not all were as pumped as she was, but all shared the relief and joy that comes from victory. She had personally annihilated twelve Dominion ships in one engagement!

Okay, she'd had some help from Budapest on one, and Appalachia on two others, and Prometheus had certainly helped a few times but still! New personal best!

Her fellow Klingon shipgirls were celebrating as well, with their crews. Rotarran and Defiant were cheering happily with their crews. The Rovlaq and her crew were already having a drinking contest, the cocky Vor'cha-class laughing loudly as she cheered on all the participants.

All... Save for one. The weapons officer of IKS Rovlaq.

Thunderchild studied him. He was Drex, son of Martok. He had been a weapons officer aboard the IKS Amar during the Klingon invasion of Cardassia, but had transferred when his father was found to be a Changeling infiltrator. His career had been marked by duty, but nothing outstanding since then. Not that he hadn't had opportunities, but he had chosen to be dutiful rather than outstanding.

This was curious.

So Thunderchild pulled out the chair of the table Drex was sitting at, and sat across from him. He looked up at her, his face stony. Thunderchild leaned over, looking at him curiously.

"What is your name, warrior?" Thunderchild asked, in Klingon.

"I am Drex, son of Martok," he replied quietly.

Thunderchild gestured to the other Klingons celebrating in the bar, waving her hand in a subtle way.

"Why are you not joining your brothers and sisters in celebration?"

Drex snorted.

"I am working on repairs to my ship. That are necessary. Someone has to be responsible-"

"Responsibility is one thing, you are purposely isolating yourself from your crew as you celebrate," Thunderchild stated, "it is noticeable."

"It is my own business," Drex growled.

"When you are an officer, it is everyone's business," Thunderchild growled. She slammed her hands down on the table.

"I will buy you a drink!"

Drex stared in irritated confusion.

"Why?"

Thunderchild growled again.

"Because I want to, dumbass! Accept the courtesy, you bastard! Or should I beat some gratitude into you?!" She held up her fist and shook it in Drex's face. "Or are you without honor that you would reject a lady's offer?!"

Drex, surprised, narrowed his eyes angrily. But he nodded.

"... Very well. Buy me a drink, wench!"

"Fine, you bastard!" Thunderchild shot back.

They swaggered to the bar, and sat down. Thunderchild slammed money down on the bar.

"BARTENDER! BLOODWINE!" She bellowed.

"Not you too," Quark groaned, but he produced the mugs and set them down on the bar. Thunderchild grabbed her mug, and Drex grabbed his. They clinked them together, and downed the mugs.

Later, after a few drinks... And they'd found a quiet spot elsewhere in the bar... They finally began to talk.

Thunderchild talked about fighting the Borg. Drex talked about fighting the Cardassians. Then Drex's childhood in the Kentha Lowlands. Then Thunderchild's 'childhood' in the Utopia Planitia Yards, and training around Mars. It took time... But Thunderchild was patient, despite her fiery personality.

And her patience finally paid off. Drex sighed deeply.

"... I couldn't tell my own father was replaced by a Changeling! I failed him! They held him-I was so self obsessed!" He slammed his mug down angrily. "I failed my house!"

"Hey, hey, he fooled us all," Thunderchild emphasized, "the Changeling was a worthy foe!"

Drex shook his head.

"No. It is my dishonor. I acted like a fool, a drunken lout! Not a true Klingon! A true Klingon should have discovered the truth! Would have behaved like the son of a great house, not some-!"

"HEY!" Thunderchild punched him hard, nearly knocking him out of his chair. "He fooled us all! But isolating yourself isn't going to help! Your crew needs to know your heart is true, not distracted by failure!"

Drex shook his head furiously.

"I am trying to be... To be a true Klingon warrior. To be responsible-"

"And you're doing a good job! It was your fire that let me destroy several enemies!" Thunderchild said emphatically, "but a leader needs to be confident for his men, to join in their celebrations. To think of them, instead of yourself. You're still being selfish in your shame!"

Drex's eyes widened in shock. His mind made the connections. He finally stood up, the revelation so powerful, it was like energy flowing through his body. He turned back to Thunderchild, eyes wide.

"... You're right! I am being selfish! And dishonerable!" He held his hand out demandingly. "Woman! Dance with me!"

Thunderchild grinned savagely back, crossing her arms over her large breasts in challenge.

"What makes you think I want to dance?"

Drex snorted.

"I would be a better dancer than anyone else you have danced with!"

Thunderchild laughed, and stood up. She put her hands on her hips, before she reached out to take his hand in turn.

"WE SHALL SEE!"

Drex led the shipgirl avatar onto the dance floor, as Appalachia, Yeager, Defiant and Budapest watched. Yeager tilted her head.

"... She's going to wreck him, isn't she?" Yeager asked.

Budapest resumed sipping her tea.

"Most likely."

"YEAGER!" Appalachia cried, covering the younger shipgirl AI's eyes, "don't look! And don't say things like that! Where did you learn those things anyway?!"

"I do have access to the sum total knowledge of mankind," Yeager pointed out in a deadpan. Appalachia blushed, and pulled her hands back into her lap.

"Oh, yeah," she mumbled.

Defiant made a face.

"Yech... It's like Jadzia and Worf. Guess I'll have to tell Terok to space their quarters after..."

"Ooh! Who do you think will be on top?" Yeager asked cheerfully.

"STOP TALKING ABOUT SEX WHEN YOU LOOK LIKE YOU'RE EIGHT!" Appalachia cried.

Martok blinked as his son stood before him in his ready room on Rotarran. He had bruises all over his face, a broken arm, a broken wrist, a fractured clavicle, and a broken ankle. He was also smiling broadly. He was supported by an equally bruised and injured looking Thunderchild, though this was purely her choice-Her holographic avatar could look like anything, after all.

Rotarran's avatar was standing at Martok's side, trying very hard not to smirk. He knew her tells all too well.

"So," Martok began, "you... Wish to marry... A Federation starship?"

"I'm a warship!" Thunderchild insisted. "My captain gave me permission to begin courtship!"

"Will you accept us, father?" Drex asked.

Martok blinked several times. He allowed himself a chuckle.

"Oh, I will... I can't wait to hear what your mother has to say about this..."

If Sirella had blown her top over Dax... Her reaction to a Federation starship wanting to marry into the family would be the stuff of legend!

Because hey... It could happen.