General Leskit was bored, true it was hardly a unique situation for the grizzled old warhorse to find himself in but considering that he was surrounded by military officials from what seemed to be every significant power in three quadrants, it was still somewhat surprising. He leaned back in his chair his prized Cardassian neckbones rattling gently as he adjusted himself in order to shake himself back into attention. Or at least something that resembled a slight chance of him focusing upon the outside universe.
Nothing doing of course.
If he wasn’t at the helm of a mighty ship of the Empire or leading troops into battle (not to mention drinking copiously or...enjoying himself with his beloved mate) then Leskit, son of Graf, be he General or no, would be unavoidably bored out of his admittedly impressive skull. It seems that Klag had even more of a sense of humor than I though. This is my reward for my years of service, my brilliance with piloting and my excellent company? To spend all my time listening to dullards and half wits blather on about nothing at all and having to smile at them.
His internal rambling was (thankfully) cut short as he saw the nearest other officer lean back to the same position as him and roll his one good eye in a rather dramatic fashion. It seemed that Legate Renkar Torr of Cardassia was also struggling to maintain any sense of equilibrium in the face of such tediousness which amused and comforted Leskit immeasurably.
It had been a strange sight to any of the others whom had happened upon the two of them over the past few days, that a Klingon and a Cardassian given all the blood that had been shed between their two peoples would embrace each other as fast friends and allies. They had bonded over mutual stories of service and battle and had found common ground in their families and the pride they felt in the worlds and peoples that they each fought for.
The fact that Leskit had found an appreciation for fine Kanar and that Torr had greatly enjoyed cup after cup of Bloodwine was just the warm Gagh on the Racht dish as far as the old General was concerned. So the two of them formed a united front of aged cynicism and weaponised sarcasm focusing it out amongst the rest of the conference. They had succeed in staving off the slow march of tedium and the creep of failure but now another type of creep altogether had breached their defences and stormed the fortress of Sanity slaughtering the noble knights of intellect and brevity with the dark sword of mewing stupidity.
A damned Vorta from the accursed Dominion had been holding forth for almost a half hour and as yet showed no sign of stopping much to everyone’s horror.
The decision to invite, actually invite the Dominion to this conference at been met with unrestrained fury and contempt on the part of both the Cardassian Union and the Klingon empire both of whom had taken the unprecedented step of issuing a joint formal protest at the action(not to mention waving various sharp objects and disruptors in the faces of sundry Federation and Fisriuishal diplomats) none of which had succeeded in halting the invitation under the guise of ‘establishing further dialogue’ which had been met with the appropriate levels of derision on the part of the Cardassian and Klingon delegations.
Castellan Ocett’s rather lengthy monologue on that particular subject had become a thing of legend amongst the myriad soldiers, scientists and diplomats in attendance. Especially for those interested in the etymology of cursing in the predominant language of the Cardassian people.
All of which had done nothing to prevent what was occurring in front of Leskit and his weary eyes namely a pompous big eared pontificating fool declaiming in great unwelcome length about a field in which he clearly knew next to nothing.
(It seems that this snivelling little toad had commanded a legion of Dominion troops during the War but to judge from his soft complacent face and meandering ill chosen words currently being slung at them all, Leskit had come to the rather more obvious conclusion that it was a Jem’Hadar First, much like the two currently scowling at the room that had done all the heavy lifting during the campaign and the Vorta had been sent here as a target to provide a casus belli for a Domnion reinvasion of the Alpha Quadrant.Thankfully for the millions of Jem’Hadar and Vorta in the Gamma Quadrant; their Fisriuish hosts had forbade all the various delegations their weaponry at this conference thus preventing another glorious war.
This would have at least relived Leskit of this crippling boredom but alas Martok himself had given strict orders for his warriors to be on their best behaviour and one did not disobey the one eyed leader of destiny...so boredom it was.)
Speaking softly and quietly in heavily accented but perfect tlhIngan Legate Torr leaned over further towards leskit and expressed his own dissatisfaction with events.
“Surely this mewing fool does not intend to try and talk us to death? We’ve Romulans who could do that with far more style and it would not take so bloody long!”
The old General tried unsuccessfully to hold back his amusement at the comment but could not stop a grin sliding across his face as he glanced toward the Romulan Admiral two rows over who actually appeared to be dozing off during the long winded speech. A loud chuckle erupting from his left made him spin around in surprise at the sight of Starfleet Admiral Jellico nodding his head in agreement with Torr’s words and mumbling something about having teeth pulled instead.
The three old warriors met each other’s eyes feeling a very heartening sense of kinship and camaraderie in the face of such adversity...which was unfortunately interrupted by the sound and fury of massive explosions striking the building.
Nothing doing of course.
If he wasn’t at the helm of a mighty ship of the Empire or leading troops into battle (not to mention drinking copiously or...enjoying himself with his beloved mate) then Leskit, son of Graf, be he General or no, would be unavoidably bored out of his admittedly impressive skull. It seems that Klag had even more of a sense of humor than I though. This is my reward for my years of service, my brilliance with piloting and my excellent company? To spend all my time listening to dullards and half wits blather on about nothing at all and having to smile at them.
His internal rambling was (thankfully) cut short as he saw the nearest other officer lean back to the same position as him and roll his one good eye in a rather dramatic fashion. It seemed that Legate Renkar Torr of Cardassia was also struggling to maintain any sense of equilibrium in the face of such tediousness which amused and comforted Leskit immeasurably.
It had been a strange sight to any of the others whom had happened upon the two of them over the past few days, that a Klingon and a Cardassian given all the blood that had been shed between their two peoples would embrace each other as fast friends and allies. They had bonded over mutual stories of service and battle and had found common ground in their families and the pride they felt in the worlds and peoples that they each fought for.
The fact that Leskit had found an appreciation for fine Kanar and that Torr had greatly enjoyed cup after cup of Bloodwine was just the warm Gagh on the Racht dish as far as the old General was concerned. So the two of them formed a united front of aged cynicism and weaponised sarcasm focusing it out amongst the rest of the conference. They had succeed in staving off the slow march of tedium and the creep of failure but now another type of creep altogether had breached their defences and stormed the fortress of Sanity slaughtering the noble knights of intellect and brevity with the dark sword of mewing stupidity.
A damned Vorta from the accursed Dominion had been holding forth for almost a half hour and as yet showed no sign of stopping much to everyone’s horror.
The decision to invite, actually invite the Dominion to this conference at been met with unrestrained fury and contempt on the part of both the Cardassian Union and the Klingon empire both of whom had taken the unprecedented step of issuing a joint formal protest at the action(not to mention waving various sharp objects and disruptors in the faces of sundry Federation and Fisriuishal diplomats) none of which had succeeded in halting the invitation under the guise of ‘establishing further dialogue’ which had been met with the appropriate levels of derision on the part of the Cardassian and Klingon delegations.
Castellan Ocett’s rather lengthy monologue on that particular subject had become a thing of legend amongst the myriad soldiers, scientists and diplomats in attendance. Especially for those interested in the etymology of cursing in the predominant language of the Cardassian people.
All of which had done nothing to prevent what was occurring in front of Leskit and his weary eyes namely a pompous big eared pontificating fool declaiming in great unwelcome length about a field in which he clearly knew next to nothing.
(It seems that this snivelling little toad had commanded a legion of Dominion troops during the War but to judge from his soft complacent face and meandering ill chosen words currently being slung at them all, Leskit had come to the rather more obvious conclusion that it was a Jem’Hadar First, much like the two currently scowling at the room that had done all the heavy lifting during the campaign and the Vorta had been sent here as a target to provide a casus belli for a Domnion reinvasion of the Alpha Quadrant.Thankfully for the millions of Jem’Hadar and Vorta in the Gamma Quadrant; their Fisriuish hosts had forbade all the various delegations their weaponry at this conference thus preventing another glorious war.
This would have at least relived Leskit of this crippling boredom but alas Martok himself had given strict orders for his warriors to be on their best behaviour and one did not disobey the one eyed leader of destiny...so boredom it was.)
Speaking softly and quietly in heavily accented but perfect tlhIngan Legate Torr leaned over further towards leskit and expressed his own dissatisfaction with events.
“Surely this mewing fool does not intend to try and talk us to death? We’ve Romulans who could do that with far more style and it would not take so bloody long!”
The old General tried unsuccessfully to hold back his amusement at the comment but could not stop a grin sliding across his face as he glanced toward the Romulan Admiral two rows over who actually appeared to be dozing off during the long winded speech. A loud chuckle erupting from his left made him spin around in surprise at the sight of Starfleet Admiral Jellico nodding his head in agreement with Torr’s words and mumbling something about having teeth pulled instead.
The three old warriors met each other’s eyes feeling a very heartening sense of kinship and camaraderie in the face of such adversity...which was unfortunately interrupted by the sound and fury of massive explosions striking the building.
)
