Secondments

Posted on Sat Mar 8th, 2025 @ 3:40am by Petty Officer 1st Class Ayol & Commander Utlaq Son of Ha'Qaam & Lieutenant Rune Thul & Warrior Choq, Son of None & Ensign P'Lar

3,744 words; about a 19 minute read

Mission: The Serpent's Tooth [3]
Location: Chief of Security's Office
Timeline: Afternoon, MD01

Earlier that morning, a biomechanical woman had dropped out of a portal. Naturally, this had upset some of Yeoman Ayol's careful scheduling, particularly a meeting he was coordinating with the Klingon Embassy. Fortunately, later in the day some free time had opened up, and Ayol had pounced upon it like a predator.

At the designated time, Ayol entered the security suite, flanked by two Klingons. One was bald with white hair, the other had luscious chestnut locks with signs of more care than one usually saw given to Klingon hair.

It was a relief that no further portal incidents had occurred since Mana’i’s unexpected arrival. Rune had kept himself updated through regular reports from Iota and Upsilon Teams over the last several hours. Their concise updates had been met with his usual nods of acknowledgment, though internally, he felt a quiet sense of gratitude for the absence of any new anomalies. Silence, in this case, was sometimes the best news.

After the senior staff briefing, Rune escorted Mana’i to her assigned VIP quarters. Some time later with an orientation given, he left her with an open offer to tour the station—or to arrange a guide from someone else, be it more to her liking or simply with more time then he, should she prefer. There was a part of him that hoped she’d reach out again soon, though he couldn’t linger on it. Duty called.

Returning to Operations, Rune reviewed the Tactical reports flowing in. Routine but necessary: allocation requests, diagnostics of ordnance and launcher systems, energy weapon emitters tests across varying power outputs, and the ever-present personnel issues that seemed to sprout like weeds after every shift rotation. Rune’s focus remained sharp as he filtered through them, granting brief notes and approvals where needed.

Before heading out, he left standing instructions with the Tactical Duty Officer for Gunnery Chief Aitrell, Overwatch Chief V’Lia, and Ordnance Chief Cassius. They were scheduled to meet soon, joined by the newly instated Assistant Chief Tactical Officer, Akaar Zuul—(rank pending confirmation from Conchy??). Zuul, a 48-year-old Violacean male, had a history with Rune from past assignments, their paths crossing in ways that had left a mark of mutual respect along with a friendship. Finding him aboard Deep Space 13 felt like one of those rare, fortunate coincidences in life’s chaotic weave. Rune was genuinely pleased to have him on the team.

The upcoming meeting would tackle the fallout from the restructure of their Tactical Department, allowing them to refine operations and chains of command. 'All the good stuff,' as Rune liked to phrase it with a sardonic edge. An appointment loomed on his schedule back at his office, fast approaching, but he believed he'd still had time to handle some of his Security administrative workload.

Settling into the familiar confines of his office in the Security Suite, Rune’s posture relaxed slightly as he activated various padds on his desk. The quiet hum of the station provided a soothing backdrop as he began reviewing reports—until the door chime sounded, cutting through the stillness like a sharp note.

Almost simultaneously, his desktop console flickered to life, automatically shifting to a sensor feed from the corridor outside his office—a security protocol he’d had installed for quick situational awareness. The image displayed Ayol, flanked by two Klingon Defense Force officers.

Rune sighed, leaning back slightly in his chair, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. 'What now?' He mused internally, though he already had a dozen theories swirling in his mind. Trouble rarely arrived with Klingon formality unless it was the loud, unavoidable kind.

Straightening, he composed himself, letting professionalism override the brewing frustration.

Cleared by the front desk, they moved to Thul's office.

“Enter,” Rune called out, his voice firm, resonating with the authority of someone who’d seen it all—but wasn’t quite sure if today would surprise him yet again.

The doors parted.

"Lieutenant, thank you so kindly for your accommodating us, I appreciate that today has been challenging for the security department. May I present Commander Utlaq of the Klingon Embassy, and Warrior Choq." Ayol said. Utlaq, the taller of the Klingons, stood forward. "Good day, Lieutenant. All glory to the seventh house of Betazed, and the sacred sword it wields with dauntless courage."

Funny, Rune mused, rising from his chair with deliberate ease. His movements were slow but controlled, a subtle way of asserting authority in his own space. He gave a polite nod to the Captain’s yeoman, his expression neutral yet professional.

"Petty Officer Ayol, always a pleasure and you’re welcome." Rune greeted, his voice carrying that smooth veneer of politeness honed from years in Starfleet. Then, with a dry chuckle—one that felt as hollow as it sounded convincing—he added, "yes, Security is rather busy… especially with the Captain’s restructuring across all departments. I think we’re all busy."

The chuckle lingered in the air, thin and brittle, like a joke no one was sure had landed. It wasn’t genuine, but it didn’t need to be. Rune had mastered the art of functional pleasantries—professionalism wrapped in just enough charm to smooth over the awkward edges of duty.

His eyes shifted to the two Klingon officers, sharp and assessing, like a predator sizing up unfamiliar rivals—not out of hostility, but instinct. His gaze met each of theirs in turn, locking for just a fraction longer than necessary to establish dominance without disrespect. Eye contact was a language of its own, especially with Klingons.

The first—Commander Utlaq—the Betazoid could tell that the seasoned Klingon stood with what gave Rune the impression as practiced authority of someone accustomed to both command and the weight of diplomatic pretense. Rune recognized him from station records; he worked at the Embassy.

The second, Warrior Choq, was noticeably shorter—a disadvantage in the Empire, if Rune recalled correctly. Klingon culture rarely made room for subtlety in matters of stature. But height didn’t define danger, and Rune knew better than to underestimate anyone based on appearance alone.

"Greetings, Commander Utlaq, son of—?" Rune inquired, his tone respectful but carrying the faintest edge of curiosity. Without missing a beat, he pivoted slightly to Choq, and added, "Warrior Choq, son of—?"

The question hung in the air like a ceremonial blade, sharp and pointed. Rune’s intention was clear—to honor their lineage and Houses—a diplomatic gesture that he felt Klingons often respected, even if grudgingly. Though Ayol had already done the introductions, Rune couldn’t help but think it might’ve been better if the Klingons had done it themselves.

Rune's inner voice told him: Maybe mention that to Ayol later—let the Klingons speak for themselves.

For now, Rune kept his posture relaxed, his expression unreadable, waiting for the responses that would inevitably reveal more than just names. He'd address his titles afterwards.

"Son of none." Choq said in his slow voice, neither loud or quiet. Normally he would wait for his superior speak, but the shame was his to wear, even if his friend Utlaq did what he could to mitigate it.

"And I am Son of Ha'Qaam." Utlaq stated.

'Son of None, huh?' Rune mused inwardly, the words lingering like an echo in the space between introductions. Disowned? Or perhaps orphaned—one of the countless souls swept away by the Empire’s long, blood-soaked history. The Klingon Empire had a way of chewing through generations, leaving behind fractured legacies and warriors with names carved more in survival than heritage.

His sharp gaze flicked between Commander Utlaq and Warrior Choq, lingering just a moment longer on each, as if trying to read the untold stories behind their expressions. Faces could lie. Eyes rarely did.

Deciding it was time to address the subtle weight hanging in the room, Rune straightened slightly, his posture easing into a stance that balanced respect with Starfleet’s brand of informal authority.

"I do accept your words, Commander," he said smoothly, his tone layered with diplomacy but edged with something more genuine. "Though glory isn’t quite the same for my people as it is for yours." A wry grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, followed by a quiet, dry laugh. "And who told you of my title?" The question hung in the air, light on the surface but not without curiosity beneath.

"It’s a pity," Rune continued, "that the Sacred Sword is simply for show nowadays—not fit for combat." The words felt heavier than he intended, as if the blade itself carried the silent judgment of generations past.

A moment passed, filled with the quiet hum of the station’s systems, the kind of pause that allowed for unspoken thoughts to settle like dust.

Then, with a deliberate motion, Rune brought his right fist to his left chest—the universal sign of respect, though not entirely Klingon in form. It was his adaptation, a fusion of Starfleet decorum and the acknowledgment of warrior cultures he’d encountered throughout his career. "And I return glory to both of you, fine warriors." His voice was steady, sincere. A small bow of his head followed, brief but deliberate, before he relaxed his stance.

His eyes sharpened once more, scanning the trio with renewed focus. "What brings you to me?" The question was simple, but the glance he gave each of them—first Ayol, Utlaq, then Choq—carried the weight of someone who knew that behind every formal visit, there was usually more than met the eye. And Rune was always ready to find out what that was.

"In the interests of furthering the amity and trust of the Alliance between our governments, the Empire wishes to offer one of its own to support your work here. We understand that the management of a Klingon populace can be a delicate matter for non-Klingons. Now that there are several hundred Klingons aboard, the Dowager General felt that this would be an appropriate time to offer a secondment under the ongoing exchange program between our governments. No reciprocal Federation officer is expected or required in the circumstances." Utlaq explained.

It was fascinating to watch events unfold, though no one in the Federation or the Romulan Free State could claim to be surprised. This had been inevitable.

The Klingon High Council, upon learning of the multiversal rift—and more importantly, that Starfleet and the Free State had already been cooperating for some time on its exploration—was now experiencing what could only be described as a severe case of Exosusphobia. The fear of being excluded. The dread of missing out on something of great consequence.

A classic Klingon reaction, really. If they weren’t part of something, their immediate instinct was to force themselves into it—preferably with a disruptor and a declaration of dominance. Soon the Cardassians, Tholians and Ferengi would probably show up next. Maybe the Talarians

Rune’s gaze sharpened slightly as he considered the situation before him. The High Council had sent just one warrior? That alone was a curiosity. He arched an eyebrow, folding his arms loosely across his chest as he regarded the delegation.

"Just one Warrior?" he asked, his voice even, but laced with unmistakable skepticism.

It was unlike the Empire to take half-measures, especially when prestige, honor, or interstellar dominance were in play. This arrangement felt… incomplete. There had to be something else at work here.

Rune’s mind immediately drifted back to Choq’s unusual designation—Son of None. A warrior without a House. A warrior without a legacy.

Was this some kind of political maneuver? A test? A punishment? Or perhaps something deeper? He shifted his stance slightly, eyes flicking between the Commander and Choq, gauging their reactions. There was more to this than what had been said so far. Rune intended to find out what.

"Trust me Lieutenant, you will find that Choq has value and skill an entire team of lesser warriors could not provide. And while all warriors I know, even myself are lesser in combat than my friend, If the Federation so wishes, more can be provided." Utlaq responded.

Rune couldn’t help but smile at the praise Utlaq offered for his friend. It was an interesting thing—almost Federation-like in its sentiment. Klingons weren’t known for openly vocalizing admiration, at least not in such a way, and it added an unexpected layer of nuance to the Commander.

Letting his hands fall to his sides, Rune acknowledged the statement with a nod but didn’t let it pass without adding his own perspective.

"Be that as it may—and I look forward to witnessing it myself—there are always times when we will need many instead of the few, regardless of skill."

His words carried a practical weight. No matter how great a warrior was, there were battles where sheer numbers determined victory as much as individual prowess. It was a truth of war—one he knew the Klingons understood, even if they often preferred their tales to glorify the few against the many.

Turning his attention fully to Choq, Rune extended a hand, his gesture firm but respectful. There was no hesitation, no reservation—he offered the handshake not just as a formality but as a deliberate acceptance. "Welcome to Security, Choq, Son of None."

Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he considered something else—an attempt at respecting Klingon protocol, while also recognizing that the Empire’s rank structure was, at times, a linguistic challenge for non-Klingons.

"Should I use beq Choq?" He asked, his tone laced with mild amusement.

Klingon ranks were quite mouthy, and Rune had learned that while formalities mattered, knowing when to adapt was just as crucial—especially when dealing with warriors who straddled the lines between tradition and necessity.

His gaze remained steady on Choq, waiting to see how the warrior would respond—not just to the offer of a handshake, but to the acknowledgment of his place within this new dynamic.

"Whichever best pleases you, sir." Choq said as he shook the man's hand with an appropriate firmness. "I have no preference."

A submissive Klingon was not the status quo, Rune kept his smile. "What are your usual duties back in the Empire?" He asked.

"I have served the Lady Kloh'theQ as a guard in her house for many decades. Though I am ineligible for promotion beyond the rank of beq, I have undertaken almost every responsibility we have to ensure her security, and that of her family." Choq told the security chief.

"Though I am ineligible to wield honorable weapons, I have a great deal of experience in battle and with the use of internal and external security systems. I am also uniquely called upon among my fellow warriors by my Lady, to investigate curiosities or concerns she has. Investigation is a hobby of mine." Choq explained.

An investigator—and a Klingon. No one suspects the Klingon. Rune smirked, the thought playing in his mind as he made his decision.

"I’d like to assign you to Security Investigations," he said, his tone carrying a note of finality. "You will report to Ensign P’Lar and myself. She will guide you through our procedures, then provide you with your cases." He gestured toward Choq, meeting the Klingon’s gaze with quiet intrigue. "I may assign you cases as they come up as well. Ensign P’Lar will assist you. Should you not have any cases, I'm assigning you to the Beta team. Duty rosters and responsibilities are team based, so you will share in their duties and responsibilities."

Rune has already been forming an idea of how Choq’s unique skills and presence could be utilized within the department. A Klingon investigator—it was a perfect cover in its own way. Who would ever suspect one of the most direct, honor-bound species in the quadrant of working behind the scenes?

His curiosity hadn’t waned, either. He wanted to see how Choq handled an active case, but unfortunately, the lack of major investigations at the moment had been frustrating. It was a good thing for station security, but Rune was itching for an opportunity to see Choq in action.

Still, the opportunity would come. It always did. His expression softened slightly as he tilted his head, a new thought surfacing.

"Am I to understand your Lady won’t be calling on you any longer?" There had been a trace of sadness in his voice, though it was fleeting. It was her loss, after all. He pushed aside the thought, refocusing on the task at hand, but some small part of him was still wondering—how would Choq truly handle an investigation when the time came? Rune intended to find out, next he will address the promotion and weapon issues.

"I serve only the Federation now. The terms of the exchange arrangement are clear. Only matters of family honour may interfere and necessitate leave, but I have none to speak of." Choq told his new leader.

Well, in that case, Rune mused. "While you are serving the Federation, you may consider yourself part of the family here on Deep Space 13. All of us." He clarified his words with a slight tilt of his head before adding, "Of course, it’s all up to you. This is the start of your new life."

His gaze remained steady, watching for any subtle shift in Choq’s expression. "I’d consider it a diplomatic folly for the Empire to deny an ally access to the weaponry they’re most familiar with," Rune continued. "So I can put in a request to the Captain on your behalf for whatever weapons you wish to use." His tone carried an official weight, deliberately measured. There was a certain logic to it, after all—Klingons were warriors first, and familiarity with one’s weapon could mean the difference between victory and defeat.

"Of course, as an exchange officer, you also have access to our standard armaments, except those classified." Rune’s expression remained neutral, but beneath the surface, he was curious to see how far this request could go. It wasn’t just about arming Choq—it was about testing where the line stood between diplomacy and practicality. Ultimately, though, it was Choq’s decision.

Rune shifted his focus slightly, glancing toward Commander Utlaq to gauge his reaction.

"The proscriptions on sons of none are only for those in service to the Empire." Utlaq explained. "There is no expectation that he follow them while in your service."

"Ah, thank you Commander for that." Rune said pleased and turned back to Choq. "Some of the teams members share accommodation, is that a problem for you? I am happy to give you your own junior officers quarters. It is up to you Beq." He stated firmly that choice was now available to Choq.

"If it is not an issue, I would sooner keep my privately held accommodations in Red Quadrant." Choq declined politely.

"Not an issue with me." Rune replied with a nod. "I will," he began as he looked around his desk. "Ah." He picked up a padd he was finished with and programmed the appropriate orders and after a quick cross-reference made the assignment to Beta team by sending a text message to the team leader. Rune left the padd with the Investigations assignment displayed as he handed it to Choq.

"Thul to P'Lar, please report to my office."

He nodded. "Well unless you two have any other questions or business with Security then I believe I will let you get to it? Of course I will speak with P'Lar first and then she can partner with you as to give you a quick run down of all things Security Investigations before you two get to work." Rune smiled. "Welcome to the team Beq Choq again." He turned to Utlaq. "Commander, should the need arise I'd like Beq Choq to be our liaision to your Embassy's security? Who knows what may happen and we must cooperate Beq Choq can inform us how best to do so."

He grinned. "I know you probably won't have any need of us but the offer is there nonetheless." Rune added a moment later as he brought his right hand to the left side of his chest in a Klingon salute. He'd give the customary farewell to the Klingons after their response.

"Officially I can approve him no appointment, but rest assured that he is my friend, and his words will reach my ears sooner than any others as the Lady Kloh'theQ's security master." Utlaq

"No questions sir, thank you." Choq said politely when it was his turn to speak.

P'Lar entered and stood at attention, a polite distance back, nodding to Thul so as not to interrupt the conversation.

Rune nodded to P'Lar as she entered but continued. "That is most agreeable, thank you Commander." He said and turned to Choq. "This is Ensign P'Lar," he turned to the Security Investigations officer and smiled. "I have a new investigator for you to put to work. Of course the usual treatment," he said and turned back to Choq. "Beq, should you find any of our protocols or methods insufficient, come see me or Assistant Chief Lieutenant JG Eudlo, and either of us may be able to help."

"Yes, sir." P'Lar said to Thul. "Ready when you are, Mr Choq." She said to the Klingon.

"Thank you, sir. Please lead on ma'am." Choq said to Thul, then P'Lar.

Rune watched as P'Lar led Choq out of his office and turned to Utlaq. "Oh Commander, my husband told me that he had acquired some barrels of bloodwine for the beverages menu at 'The Spot' and asked if I could spread the word. The only thing I didn't catch was the vintage, though knowing Vestar he probably scored at least 3 different brews." He smiled.

"I will spread the good news among my people." Utlaq told Thul. "Thank you, Lieutenant. If there is nothing further, I would leave you to your work."

Rune shook his head slowly as he considered. "Not at the moment no. Please have a glorious day Commander." He replied with a Klingon salute: his right fist across his chest to left side and slightly bowed at his mid in respect.

"Qapla, Lieutenant Thul." Utlaq said, returning the gesture, before turning and leaving.

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