From jrbowman@kih.net Sun Jun 28 00:50:43 1998 Date: Fri, 19 Jun 1998 19:44:57 -0600 From: Gershon To: USS CONSTELLATION NCC-1017-F Subject: USS CONSTELLATION: My Compliments USS CONSTELLATION NCC-1017-F OFFICIAL E-mail BEGIN TRANSMISSION FMD 7.1215 OPS Office : Deck 3 Lieutenant Ingmar Shall never liked to be the bearer of bad news. It was probably the thing he hated most about being a subordinate. If he were ever to be promoted, one of his luxuries would have other people bringing the news to him, good or mad. He had never seen Kraltz really angry before, and hoped not to. Kraltz always seemed so tightly wound up, body language, modulation of voice, everything. Like a snake ready to strike. It had been said that the most dangerous people did not *need* to raise their voices, as their presences changed the chemistry of a room. Kraltz was one of those people. Now, Shall would act the unwitting catalyst. He entered the room, "Commander Kraltz, I'd like to have a few moments of your time." She didn't even look up from the terminal. "Speak." Shall decided to make this as brief as possible. "Sir, I don't know if you like gossip or not...." Kraltz lifted her head, sending a pang of anxiety to Shall. He told himself to lean forward. "...I must inform you, however, that Commander Bertoli has taken to interviewing members of the Operations Staff about you. He just left my office to go to lunch. I have no idea if he -- " " -- where is Commander Bertoli?" *Offense*, thought Shall. "He's in the Officer's Mess." Kraltz simply turned the terminal off, and walked out of the room. Shall decided to busy himself, to be somewhere else after impact. *********** FMD 7.1230 Officer's Mess It wasn't hard to find Commander Bertoli in the officer's mess. He was talking with a female crewman wearing engineering, ops, or security gold. Kraltz recognized her as an engineer, and thought it lucky that the woman was not for ops. "Commander Bertoli." Kraltz presented herself, right to the edge of the table, almost edging the poor petty officer out of the way. "Right. We'll talk later, Mister Johns. Thank you." The woman walked away. "Can I help you -- " "Commander Bertoli," Kraltz answered in a dead tone with a hint of violent resurrection, "in the future, when you seek information about me, you should seek it directly. Or have you forgotten the directions to the Operations Department?", she sarcastically added. "Odd, Commander...I had no intention of speaking to you personally. It's not my style. I've found that when I'm researching the background and motivations of an officer, the best thing to do is never to speak to the officer directly. You talk to subordinates. Officers, for good or evil, tend to be deceitful about their true motivations. However, observations can't be so easily discounted." Bertoli sipped his water as if he wasn't speaking to anyone particularly important. "I expected as much," Kraltz answered. "Oh?" "To ask questions behind one's back, but never directly is an act particularly without honor. If you forget, Commander, I was there when Commander Bochu made his assessment of you. I must concur. I do not *like* you, either." "Well, Commander...care to sit?" "I prefer to stand," Kraltz answered. "Fine." Bertoli locked the fingers of his hands, the mess table becoming an impromptu desk. "That's a strange comment coming from you, Commander Kraltz. The only two people whose respect I care about aboard this vessel are Commander Bochu's...and yourself." "What about the honor of Captain Paraskevopoulus?" "That I would like his support and respect goes without saying." "Well, Commander," Kraltz answered, "I suggest then, if you are worried about your position as 'combat advisor', that you earn the respect of the person who will have to execute a major part of your tactical decisions...Lieutenant Kzar." "Lieutenant Kzar," Bertoli answered, "is little more than a trained monkey. He's an *animal*. He needs a leash more than a commission. His presence aboard this vessel is a tacit admission that the policy of Kzinti officers aboard Federation vessels is a failure. I'm keeping a close eye on him. "As for 'going behind your back', as a Klingon you should be quite familiar with the Komerex Era, as some call it. The intelligence blanket. All Klingons under surveillance. The *klin zha kinta*, the great game with human pieces. The proverb, 'if you do not want a thing heard, do not say it'. Why should what someone else says about you bother you anyway?" She would not explain that she cared nothing for what others said about her, only that in questioning her subordinates as he had, he also questioned her honour. He would never understand the full meaning of his actions. "The Klingon Empire has changed greately over the last one hundred years," Kraltz replied, almost defensively. She, who had never lived in the Empire, was hardly the person to excuse those who had perverted the true values of a warrior. "Those cowards in surveillance have all met the properly ignoble deaths. Your lines of questioning, your unwillingness to confront me, Commander Bertoli, only contribute to the evidence that your actions will isolate you from an effective command of this ship. As for the *klin zha kinta*, you do not play it well...or you would have advanced to the position of Executive Officer, perhaps the captaincy itself, with great ease and permanence. When our conflict with the Dalriada reaches a settled point...you shall be gone." Bertoli smiled. "Nice words. Then again, which of us is out of touch? I've spoken to several people on board. People have come to dread me coming, because they know I will pester them horribly, and they've already begun to guard their comments. Of all the people I've spoken to, guarded comments or not, I know one thing...you don't have a friend in the world aboard this vessel. "Oh sure, there are people who enjoy working with you...or should I say, rolling around on the Marine Deck with you? The comments of your department were somewhat...guarded. I know when people are being disingenuous. You're a good leader...you know where everything in OPS is, you do your duties well enough...but you've left no impact. CINCINDIGO could send another O-4 out here tomorrow, and he or she could take over, and not miss a step. "Like it or not, Kraltz, you have a distinct lack in social skills. Too much the Klingon, not enough the Federation officer. I don't see you making O-5, not now, or not ever. That's not an insult, that's an objective assessment. I could tell you everything you'd need to know about making an O-5, networking, making friends...having empathy. But you'd turn it down to preserve your cast iron Klingon persona. You will probably shuffle about a couple of more times as OPS officer... and then retire on some starbase. Like I said...empathy. It's the singular thing that leaves you ineffective as a leader. "I don't doubt that you're effective as a *Klingon*. But not as a Federation officer. You will revert to type when a crisis comes. It's this inflexibility that's your problem. Ask anyone, even yourself. They'll -- or you'll -- prove me true." "My effectiveness," answered Kraltz, "requires only for certain matters to be taken care of. It is not to be judged by you, by any outsider, nor even my superiors. As a warrior, there are certain matters dear to my heart." "A Klingon answer. Let me guess," answered Bertoli. "I'd say number one on that list would be 'efficiency in battle'. You admire people who can do their jobs well. It's also a demand you've made of your subordinates." "The OPS department is ready. More than ready. If they are efficient, they have done their jobs well." "Well, then, Commander Kraltz, I order you to speak freely, as Executive Officer of this vessel -- what do you think of *my* efficiency in battle?" "I have examined your record," Kraltz answered. "I'll bet you have." "Born in Rome, Italy, to a family patrician even by technosocialist standards. A life of privilege. High marks at the War College. An excellent record as a flight control officer, and an exceptional skill in targeting the large phaser banks of a ship as Lieutenant Commander and Commander. However," remarked Kraltz with some satisfaction, "you have never tasted true battle. Never had an enemy point a phaser at you. Never fought for your life, blood on blood, against a determined foe." "So there's nothing I could do to indicate my skills?", Bertoli asked. "I doubt it." "All right, Commander Kraltz. Turn over your duties to Mr. Shall for the next hour or so. There's a battle sim I want you to run with me." Kraltz crossed her arms. "In a controlled environment, there is little you can do to impress me." On the other hand, she was determined to run the simulation, artificial as it would be, to the limit. She would test the limits of the holodeck itself. There was nothing -- *nothing* -- to which Kraltz did not give her maximum effort. ********************* FMD 7.1310 Holodeck A For over 30 minutes, Kraltz was sorely tested by the simulation. Then again, so was Bertoli. Both of them made a quick blur of the other officers aboard the pseudo-CONSTELLATION. It seemed that for the purposes of the sim, the holodeck Bochu, Kzar, Ares, Alion, and the others had been reduced to shadows of their former selves. The rule seemed to be "expect no help from your fellow crewmen". Nothing significant, anyway. Three times, the Dalriada had taken significant parts of the CONSTELLATION off-line. Kraltz made sure that repair crews were in the right locations, that there was an appropriate allocation of resources. The screams she heard over the headlink were blood-curdling, but she steeled herself and moved forward, thinking only of the motion of her path and the nearness of her goal. The computer was smart, creating situations that would test Kraltz's flexibility. Sure enough, she saw out of the corner of her eye, that Bertoli was being similarly tested. She wondered if the man intended to pilot and arm the ship by himself in the event of crisis. They were both sweating. Two Dalriadan ships waited, testing the capability of the smouldering CONSTELLATION. "Well, Kraltz?", asked Bertoli with a smile. "Had enough?" "Not yet. I am still standing," she answered, authoritatively. "Good. Freeze. Substitute program Bertoli/Kraltz Beta." Within moments, the very shape of the ship begin to alter. Kraltz was surprised. "What is he *doing*?" It was unlike her expectations of Bertoli. He had surprised her. As the ship took on its new form, she looked at the modified viewscreen. Brown, red, amber, colors more agreeable to Kraltz's optic nerves. They were now aboard a Klingon vessel. Kraltz was a Federation citizen. She had never served on a Klingon vessel; never in fact desired such service. She was--had been a marine. That had been sufficient. Until an alien attack had left the Alberta short-handed, half her crew dead or injured. The bridge had seemed strange, unfamiliar, when she had filled in as tactical officer. Too large, and overly bright. This bridge felt right. The sounds were comforting, the special clicks and groans of Klingon technology. The smell of a bridge cleansed by industrial strength cleaner, never effective. The grunts of the officers. The desire for battle, conducted like current across the room. The only two people not changed were Bertoli and Kraltz. "What", asked Kraltz, "is the purpose of *this*?" "I decided to make you more comfortable, Lieutenant Commander. I know that on a Klingon vessel, things would be much different, more to your liking. I know you can't help but feel resentment about not being the acting Executive Officer. I would feel the same resentment. I am ambitious, but I feel I'm ambitious for the right reasons and not the wrong ones. "So," continued Bertoli, "I'm giving you the opportunity to remedy the situation." "How so?", asked Kraltz, although she knew the answer. She wanted to hear him *say* it. "On a Klingon vessel, if you felt I was an incapable second in command, you could challenge me in combat. If I were defeated, I would be forced to assume your position as OPS manager, and you would become Executive Officer, or whatever the position is called on a Klingon vessel. "So, Commander Kraltz, here's the situation. I don't intend to hide behind my rank, or behind my position as Admiral Brooks' fair-haired-boy Combat Advisor. If you really want the job so bad, Kraltz, come over here and take it from me. I won't complain to Bochu. In fact, I'll recommend you for the position myself. Then, I won't be the one to blame. "It's time to put up, or shut up. If you don't want the job, just stand right there. But if you don't do anything...I make a challenge to you that you will have to be my *friend*, instead of my enemy...or you really are without honor. It will be easier on the both of us if we are one or the other, friend or enemy, instead of a little of both. I have placed the decision in your hands. If you want the job...come get it." Kraltz had never been faced with such a *fait accompli*. To change matters, all of the Klingon officers, unreal as they were, turned in her direction. All seeming to ask the same question, unspoken. "What is your choice?" She thought to herself..."If Bertoli keeps his word...I can be the Executive Officer of this vessel." Something itched at her, however. The contrivance was quite annoying. But to be without honor...even at the end of Bertoli's condition statement. The mere *assumption*....! And if she did not challenge him, she had to be his *friend*? Such a statement? The friend of such a man? Never! She wanted to wipe that smile right off his face. She had the opportunity... and she would take it! Three meters wasn't much distance to cross, not for one as motivated as she. She took two quick steps and backhanded her fist into Bertoli's face. Bertoli recoiled by the laws of physics and ended up knocked against the wall. The other "warriors" stood up and formed a ring, their d'k'tahg knives clicking open to prevent any chance of escape. The captain's chair turned, to watch in amusement. Bertoli, to his credit, had no intention of giving up just then. He was young, and quick. He began a rapid series of punches, attempting to overwhelm Kraltz from her fixed point. At one time, he almost hit her hard enough for her to respect his strength. But...she had been hit harder before. 'Almost' did not count. Kraltz grabbed his arm, where Bertoli grabbed her other arm. It was literally a contest of strength. Kraltz tried a head-butt, but Bertoli was quick enough to dodge it. Kraltz made the decision to use Bertoli's speed against him. She let go of Bertoli, suddenly giving Bertoli the fixed position. Kraltz let herself be pulled forward, but Bertoli had not planned ahead properly. As Kraltz swung forward, she gripped her now-free hand to the arm that Bertoli was using to hold hers. Executing a move she had learned a decade earlier, she dropped her center of gravity, placed one leg against Bertoli's sternum, and lifted the Combat Advisor in the air using her half-bent leg. It was a small lift, only a few inches, but Kraltz knew how to take advantage of it. Bertoli was surprised. His grip slackened. Bad mistake. His center of balance uncertain as his feet touched ground again, Kraltz let fly with a rapid salvo of blows. She virtually directed him across the room, and when Bertoli slipped backwards, she placed her foot in his neck and bent down, grasping his head in both her free hands. It was quite painful for Bertoli's head. There was so much she could do, all of it quite painful. "Enough," answered Bertoli, bleeding from the nose. "I surrender." The warriors cheered. Kraltz let go, and Bertoli stood up, checking his nose. Looking at the blood on his hand, he examined his nose more carefully. "Not broken. Heh. All right, Kraltz. I'll talk to Commander Bochu, as soon as my nose quits bleeding and I can change my uniform. I want to be the first to offer my congratulations." Having gained her objective, Kraltz wished no further conversation. "Arch." The arch appeared, and she turned to leave the holodeck. Before she could leave, Bertoli stood up and smiled. Kraltz stopped, for a second. Then she walked defiantly through the arch, leaving Bertoli behind. "zha riest'n tekas tal'tai-kleon". She knew that Bertoli didn't know a word of Klingon beyond the rudiments. If he had, he would have tried to impress her with his language skills much earlier. However, Bertoli knew that much. The phrase was the final phrase spoken in the game of Klingon chess called klin zha. The phrase used by the victor to acknowledge a worthy opponent. Finding a chair in a nearby lounge, she sat down. So she would now be Executive Officer? She could not take on the duties of Executive Officer with confidence unless the duties of Ops Officer were taken over by someone else. Someone whose skills would meet her standards. Lieutenant Shall? More likely, Bochu would choose Bertoli. Bertoli would spin his comments so that Bochu felt he had no choice. *Bertoli has already spoken to my subordinates...what has he said to them? Has he won their affections, with words alone?* She felt quite insecure, a feeling she had hated since childhood, since she voluntarily chose the path of a warrior. Furthermore...Bertoli claimed that Kraltz could only function as a Klingon, not as a Federation officer. Had Bertoli proven himself right? She knew that in the future, when they met, Bertoli would smile like a Terran statue... a cryptic smile, possessing a secret that they both shared. That she earned her position as Executive Officer by *force*. There was something missing in this victory. She felt no sense of pride; only the taste of defeat. Defeat cloaked in the mantle of victory. She was damned if she did...and damned if she didn't. The thought of being Bertoli's friend, on his terms, sickened her. Perhaps, she could change her mind. A fleeting thought. However, after this day, she committed one thought to memory. Bertoli knew the game of klin zha kinta. And...he played it for keeps. ************ Respectfully submitted, James Bowman Margaret Kipp CDR Umberto Bertoli LCDR Kraltz Combat Advisor Operations Officer USS CONSTELLATION USS CONSTELLATION jrbowman@kih.net AND mkipp@freenet.carleton.ca JBowman489@aol.com All: More character intrigue than Indigo Fleet business.... *********************************************************** FMD 7.1215 Shall brings bad news FMD 7.1230 Bertoli and Kraltz have it out FMD 7.1310 Holodeck klin zha kinta ************************************************************************* For our bothersome junk-mail friends who cull e-mail addresses from posts: uce@ftc.gov jquello@fcc.gov sness@fcc.gov "As with everything else in life, I prefer to frolic to my own little kazoo." -- Masako Goto This message sent by an official crew member of the USS CONSTELLATION Are you also posting your messages to the newsgroup?!!! END TRANSMISSION