The Star Beagle Adventures
Episode 4: Starship Trooper
Scene 10: Lessons
Loneliness is a power that we possess to give or take away forever...
4.10
Lessons
Lessons
The four young marines had been captured by klingons, they had been terrified by klingons, they had been chained by klingons, and now they were being feted by a huge banquet room full of klingons. Each marine had to tell the story over and over of how they had, with nothing but a Star Fleet runabout, managed to hold their own for nearly 40 minutes against an orion slaver mothership and its small coterie of short range fighters.
The klingons took particular delight in PFC Guz Maxwell’s description of how the marines had frustrated orion attempts to beam them out of the Bluebird.
“A historic cultural dance?” Colonial Shozek asked, amidst a storm of laughter.
“The inhibitors we rigged up created a feedback loop to help prevent their transporters from locking on, but we had to keep moving or the transporter would override the inhibitors,” PFC Sasha Soko explained.
Guz Maxwell got out of his chair and demonstrated the signature dance moves made famous by John Travolta centuries ago, which threw a room full of laughing klingons into near total chaos as several klingons got up and imitated the move.
But one person in the room was quite clearly not enjoying the merriment the young marines had brought to this feast: Commander Garse. The klingon who had appeared on the Bluebird’s viewscreens and who later had meted out a ferocious beating to Lance Corporal Petra Spitze. His evident grumpiness got him called out.
“Commander Garse,” said Colonial Shozek. “Why did you not tell me about this magnificent battle? Why did I have to learn about it from your crew and from your ship’s recordings? Did you not think their story an important lesson in valor for your fellow warriors in this hall?”
The room grew silent - there was a menace underlying Shozek’s seemingly light-hearted question.
Garse shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “They’re Star Fleet Intelligence. They have to be! Do you really think a mere foot soldier could have done what they did?”
Tarron Rerg, who was seated close to Shozek, laughed quietly. “You have never been a foot soldier, have you Garse? I have. It was long ago, but I remember it well - the terror - the determination to keep my soldiers together. The Lance Corporal’s story rings true to me. These people are not intelligence agents. They’re terrified children, just barely managing to hold it together and trying desperately to survive for another 15 minutes. I remember that feeling.”
Guz Maxwell sat down and focused on his meal. He was terribly hungry. Fortunately, the marines had been trained on klingon food - what they could safely eat. Exactly how much bloodwine they could drink. He began to shake a little as the truth of Rerg’s words sank home. He had been running on adrenaline. For a moment, this had been a room full of allies enjoying his story.
Now it was suddenly grim and quiet and serious. A room full of the most dangerous adversaries humanity had ever faced. Guz was terrified that he had forgotten that - even if only for a moment.
“Garse…” said Shozek. “You have served me well. You are one of my best hunters and you have never held back on me before. You have been a particularly useful commander. Did Tarron Rerg make you a promise?”
“I did indeed,” said Rerg.
Col. Shozek was immediately enraged. “You made that promise out of your own anger and arrogance, Rerg!” Shozek shook his finger at the older klingon “Those things will be your undoing! And this man is useful! He produces!”
“Every klingon has a purpose,” Rerg said quietly.
“So said Kahless,” said Shozek. “Even if that purpose is to serve as an example.” The young colonial rolled his head back, then turned to look at the older klingon. “I hate it that you are right. Because you are right for the wrong reasons. Now you must keep your promise.”
In response, Tarron Rerg stepped in between the banquet tables. “Choose your weapon, Garse.”
Tarron Rerg was somewhat smaller and slighter of build than most klingons. He did not appear to be an imposing figure, unlike Commander Garse - large, fierce, and full of angular movements.
“I want a bat’leth,” the klingon commander said.
Colonial Shozek rose. “You may carry mine today, Garse. You will not find a better weapon.”
One of Shozek’s bodyguards stepped around the table, bringing the curved klingon sword to Commander Garse, who appreciatively put it through a few quick motions.
“Choose your weapon, Rerg,” said the klingon commander.
“You misunderstand, Garse,” said Colonial Shozek. “This is not a battle. It is an execution.”
For the first time since he had entered the banquet hall, Commander Garse smiled. He flipped the borrowed bat’leth easily and expertly: “Today is a good day to die!”
“I’m glad you think so,” Rerg calmly replied.
Garse attacked like a whirling forest of blades.
Rerg stood, completely relaxed, and then moved with what appeared a slow and inevitable grace. In a series of connected moves, he evaded the blade, captured the back of the sword, broke Garse’s grasp on it, took it from Garse, slid behind his opponent and brought the sword down on Garse with so much force that it separated Garse’s head and right shoulder almost entirely from the rest of his body. Rerg rocked the blade back, bringing it out of Garse’s body, launching a spray of thick, gooey, pink blood that splashed onto Sasha’s plate, Guz’s hands, Raanda’s face and Spike’s uniform, leaving all four marines shaking with pure terror.
Colonial Shozek shouted in anger: “Remember this lesson! When you steal anything from me, this will be your fate and your due. And there is no thievery worse than hiding the truth from me. This man died today because he lied to me! Howl for him if you will. Not long ago he was a man of honor and perhaps that will be enough.” Shozek nodded toward Tarron Rerg.
Rerg knelt quickly, turning Garse’s nearly severed head up toward him as more of his blood pooled onto the floor. Rerg held open Garse’s dead eyes and stared into them, then raised his head and began the death howl. Every klingon in the room, including Shozek, joined him in the death howl - deafeningly loud - a sound that would have lions fleeing in fear.
Spike was just as terrified as her three teenaged charges. The four of them sat seemingly glued into their chairs, trembling with shock. Hyperventilating.
Raanda threw up.
Tarron Rerg was the first to notice. He looked at the young marines - there was almost a look of compassion in his eyes.
Then his expression hardened as he looked to someone behind them and said, “Shoot them.”
4.10
Glad to see our plucky Hounds made it!
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