Star Trek: Metamorphosis
Westfall/Star Trek TNG Crossover Fanfiction #2
Scene 9
Tall grass fluttered wildly as the Enterprise’s shuttlecraft made its descent upon it. The great rushing of air and sound calmed, whirring down into silence and stillness.
Worf and Qul’tuq were revealed as the shuttle door hissed open. Both were dressed in layers of tough leather and metal plating. Worf wore heavy shoulder pads while Qul’tuq wore a lightweight cowl around her neck. While Worf easily took to this change in uniform, Qul’tuq struggled to hide how uncomfortable the clothing was to her.
As the two stepped out into the grass, they were met with the eyes of almost two dozen Klingon. They had gathered in a large circle around the shuttle, preventing the two visitors from making any further move without being witnessed. Beyond them, the gate of the Klingon village could be seen. Gray, boxy houses lay beyond the open village square, and they stretched up a gently sloping hill. At the top, the gray, clouded air half-obscured a stone tower with a light burning in the upper-most window.
“Who are you??” One of the men barked at them. “Why have you come here??”
“I am Worf, son of Mog,” Worf announced as he took another step forward and looked around the group, “and this... is my mate, Qul’tuq, daughter of Akol.” He gestured to her.
“We are here on behalf of the United Federation of Planets,” Qul’tuq raised her chin and spoke with the firmness of those around her. “Who are the leaders we must speak to?”
Some of the Klingon looked at each other, while others’ eyes remained fixed on Worf and Qul’tuq. At last, after an almost uncomfortable silence, a pair of Klingon stepped forward.
“I am Yamtek, son of Thalas,” the male announced.
The female steadied herself beside him. “And I am Mara, daughter of Krog.”
“And we, two, are the leaders here,” Yamtek finished. “I am impressed that the Federation has, at last, sent us a proper liaison.” His eyes scanned the ship before steadying is gaze upon the woman at Worf’s side. “Qul’tuq, you say?”
“Yes,” she nodded, though she stiffened as he began to walk up to her. The leather clothing he wore creaked as he moved, and soon, he towered over her.
Worf remained silent, but his dark eyes were focused intently on the Klingon leader as if ready to pounce.
“A curious name,” Yamtek lips tugged in a smile, “for one of your stature.”
Despite the fire in her veins, she managed to remain still and quiet in the face of the potential insult.
Mara clawed at her mate’s arm as she somewhat playfully pulled him back. “I suppose we shall see if she lives up to it.”
At the same time, Worf defensively scooted closer to Qul’tuq. “I can attest that she does. May we now speak to you both in private?”
Yamtek seemed to ignore the question. “You are protective of your mate,” his smile widened to reveal his pointed teeth. “This is good.”
“Yamtek, we need to speak to you and Mara,” Qul’tuq tried as the tension seemed to lighten.
Yamtek’s brows lowered. “What you see here, around you, are all who live in our village. There is nothing we can speak about that cannot be spoken among us all.” He pointed an outstretched arm behind Mara. “We live our lives on Najhom as our fathers and forefathers did: set apart, left on our own–but this has only strengthened us!”
Worf’s eyes scanned the circle of Klingon. “These are all who live here?”
Mara appeared to take offense, and she was quick to cross her arms over her chest. “I am sorry if we have disappointed you.”
“Mara!” Yamtek said sharply. “No, there may not be many of us, but we are strong!”
Qul’tuq, however, understood where Worf’s comment was leading to. “...There are no children,” she concluded.
Both leaders momentarily lost their composure, but both were quick to brush off this temporary moment when Yamtek stepped away from the shuttle and opened his arms wide. “Let it be known: we accept Worf and Qul’tuq as emissaries into our village!”
The surrounding Klingon gave a shout, also thrusting their fists into the air.
“We?” Mara tugged on Yamtek’s arm.
Yamtek at once softened. “Do you protest?”
Mara straightened. “I do not; but I do wish to be consulted before making a potentially rash decision!”
The male leader lowered his stance. “My Mara, I apologize; it is just... we have not had visitors in such a time... I got ahead of myself.”
Qul’tuq watched Worf’s expression grow befuddled as he watched the two’s interaction.
“I had spoken in haste: but Mara also approves of our emissaries' acceptance!” Yamtek again threw his arms wide and called out to those around him, startling both of the emissaries in the process. “Now, let us welcome our visitors! Let us get to know them!”
“We must speak to you as soon as possible,” Worf stressed.
“There can be nothing you say that cannot wait!” Yamtek dismissed, starting back into the village as the others broke the circle around the shuttlecraft and filed after him.
“But... this cannot wait–not long,” Qul’tuq’s brows furrowed.
Mara’s dark eyes followed her mate as he walked away. “It will have to wait until after the welcoming ceremony,” she said plainly. Glancing to Qul’tuq, her eyes narrowed upon the emissary’s green eyes. Without saying a word, she then turned and walked away.
Worf and Qul’tuq had no choice but to follow after both halves of the leading pair.
A fire was being lit in the center of the town by the time the emissaries reached it. The dull gray of their surroundings was suddenly sparked with orange light as fire caught on the dried wood within a heavily cindered pit. As the pair of Klingon continued to fan the flame, another pair was pulling from a stack of cut logs to feed it. Others were busily walking to and from nearby homes.
“Everyone is in pairs,” Qul’tuq mentioned to Worf under her breath. “Everyone is doing everything in pairs.”
“Yes,” he nodded, though his eyes were still upon the Klingon around them. “While Klingon bonds are indeed strong, the way they interact here is... different.”
“They don’t seem to bark at each other as we practiced,” Qul’tuq smirked as she crossed her arms.
The corner of his lips curled in amusement before his attention was drawn away. “I, too, noticed the lack of children. Many females seem to be of bearing age; and yet...”
“It could be like Westfall,” she mused. “Their people, like the rest of their land, slowly began to lose their fertility. That’s why there was only one child rescued.”
“It is a possibility.” The Klingon nodded as his eyes returned to her. “With their focus on pairs, and their customs,” he took in a breath, ”there should not be a moment I am not with you.”
“What genuine words,” Yamtek’s voice came from behind them, causing both to turn with a start. “This one clearly means much to you.”
Worf blinked a few times before he looked down at Qul’tuq. “She does.”
“And he, you,” Mara slipped in from behind her mate.
“Yes.” Qul’tuq quickly recovered and matched Mara’s stance by sliding closer to Worf.
Yamtek simply laughed and spread open his hands, holding them out at his sides. “The Klingon heart was forged with fire and steel. The gods then formed his wife, and the two were made to join together as equals to defeat all who opposed them. Thus, here on Najhom, we join together as equals. There is no choice we do not make without the other. There is no battle we do not fight together.”
Qul’tuq turned to Worf, watching his pleased expression as he looked on at Yamtek.
The Klingon leader noticed this interaction and grinned. ”It seems you both have such a bond; a true chang’eng.”
Worf gave a short nod. “That is why we were chosen to speak to you.”
“Then I am glad to know you were sent to deliver the Federation’s news.” Yamek again spread his arms. “We will be honored to hear you speak after this evening’s celebration.”
“Yamtek, we must give you the news promptly,” Worf stressed.
He waved his hand. “We mustn’t forego the hunt!”
Despite his focus, Worf’s interest was piqued. “What do you hunt here?”
“Many things; bel’oq, gha’cher, targ–”
He immediately perked up. “You have targ here?”
Yamtek tilted his head. “It is not the targ of our ancestors,” he said as he adjusted the leather straps of his arm bracer, ”but it is targ to us. Taboth–come!”
A tall, strapping warrior walked forward, carrying an assortment of spears. “Yes, Yamtek.”
“Arm our visitor!”
“Here,” Taboth tossed Worf a long spear, which he caught adeptly.
A quick look up and down the spear drew a wide smile form on the Klingon warriors’s face. He nodded and started after the men with his spear in hand.
Qul’tuq, intrigued and amused by Worf’s sudden change of attitude, also began to follow, but she was quickly grasped by the arm.
“Ah, only the men shall hunt!” Taboth’s mate said. “The women shall help prepare for their return.”
“Oh, I see,” Qul’tuq glanced ahead at Worf, who had not yet realized she was no longer behind him.
“I am Est’er, daughter of Hograth,” she bowed.
“And I, Bellami, daughter of Hograth.” Another stepped up to them.
“Sisters?” the green-eyed Klingon asked with a curious smile, recognizing a similar pattern in their forehead ridges.
“Yes,” Bellami, the younger, smiled wide.
Mara’s heavy footsteps on the dusty ground interrupted the three. “Do you really join your mate on the hunt?” She asked, though the tone of her voice was more accusatory than curious.
Qul’tuq eyed her warily, recognizing the almost immediate shift in the leader’s voice and posture now that Yamtek was gone. “Yes,” she replied simply, doing her best to appear confident. “We do almost all things together.”
“Interesting,” Mara’s arms were once again crossed as she stepped up to the much shorter Klingon visitor. ”It must be exhausting to be around your mate all of the time.”
“Not at all,” Qul’tuq answered quickly, though her mind had drifted to Hudson upon Mara’s words. “I can spend every moment in his presence and never grow tired. That doesn’t mean there are times in which we are apart, but in those times, I am always thinking of him.”
Est’er was almost laughing. “Your customs are clearly much different than ours!”
Bellami, however, was moved. “That is beautiful,” she laid her hand on Qul’tuq’s arm. “I, too, think of Ha’ash often. I always wish to be by his side.”
“Because you are young and newly mated,” Mara brushed off her words. “As you age, you begin to find greater solace in your time alone.”
The visitor nodded. “Perhaps; but I believe a true bond will always keep you close.”
The words, despite being spoken innocently, conjured the anger in Mara’s ever-blistering expression. “Do you say this to mock me??”
“I do not,” Qul’tuq tried, though she was cut from speaking further when the Klingon leader bowed into her face.
“How long have you been mated?”
“Five years,” she fabricated the number.
“Until you have been with your mate for fifteen years, you will not understand.”
Qul’tuq was silenced, narrowing her gaze on the village’s female leader. Whether it was the tone of voice Mara had used, or even the misunderstanding of a Klingon mannerism, the visitor could not shake the thought there was much more to Mara’s words than it seemed. She retained eye contact long enough to prove her persistence, and then she straightened her posture and glanced out into the forest. “What is it we will do now while our men are away?” She asked blandly.
“Let us gather food for the feast,” Mara replied with a sneer, “and you will tell us more about Klingon life outside of our village–since it is clearly much different. Come, Qul’tuq.”
With that, Qul’tuq was whisked away with the other Klingon women whether she was ready or not.
Scene Notes
- There is *so much* Klingon lore that I am sure I didn't get things exactly right - but then again, this group has been separated for a while, so they can be different, right? :D
- Chang'eng means "couple" or "pair"