Star Trek: Metamorphosis
Westfall/Star Trek TNG Crossover Fanfiction #2
Scene 12
The bonfire in the center of the square popped and crackled in the fading blue light of evening. The warmth of its glow cast long shadows behind each of the Klingon seated on the ground around it and bathed them in its yellow-orange light.
The carcases of both targ had been picked clean, and they remained on the spits over the fire like a trophy. A cast iron pot beside the coals held only the remnants of baked fruit and vegetables. A long iron used for poking the fire was stuck in the ground beside the pot, and a fresh batch of long sticks were added to keep the flames going strong.
Spirits were high, and laughter was commonplace during their meal. Even Worf found himself grinning and chuckling with the others, and this caused Qul’tuq to join in, even if it was just from amusement.
Yamtek sat back, hands on either side of his stomach. “This feast has filled both my body and my soul,” he announced loud enough to quell the remaining conversations. “I believe I can speak for Mara and myself that we are truly grateful for the presence of our emissaries.”
Mara eyed him. Of all the lightness and frivolity of the meal, she had partaken in it the least. “I believe I can speak for myself,” she muttered.
A few of the Klingon chuckled, thinking her words to be a joke–but they quickly held their tongues when she glared at them.
“My Mara,” Yamtek’s tone softened. “Come, now. We have not feasted like this in months! And you must admit, our company has not hindered us!”
“Perhaps we have not feasted like this in months because we try not to overhunt,” the woman spoke bitterly.
The Klingon appeared shocked. “This is a celebration,” he tried, “I am wary of our prey’s numbers. I saw more today than I have seen in a great while, or I would have held our hunters back!”
“He speaks truth,” Worf interjected in an attempt to appease the other half of the leadership. “He discussed the dwindling numbers with me as we were scouting the prey. I only took action when given his approval.”
“And he would have given you his own seat in the ruling chamber if you had asked for it,” Mara’s words were still sharp.
Yamtek blinked uncomfortably. “Mara,” he tried.
“Let’s just let these two tell us what they came to say so we can move on with our normal lives,” the woman stressed, lips tugged in a prominent jeer.
Qul’tuq looked to Worf, knowing Mara’s ever-souring mood would not accept any word from her own mouth.
“Yes; time is growing short,” Worf looked out to the rest of the Klingon before returning his gaze to the leading pair. “If we may.”
Yamtek looked to Mara without speaking a word.
His mate narrowed her eyes. “Say it.”
Worf straightened, looking out across the fire. “This planet, Najhom, is under the jurisdiction of the Kzinti people.”
“We are aware,” Mara sneered before growling under her breath, “those awful people.”
“These people,” Worf continued, “have allowed the Federation to assist in the relocation of your village.”
“Relocation??” A few Klingon blurted as a similar look of shock plastered across the leaders’ faces.
“In less than a day, this planet will be wiped clean of all inhabitants. If you do not allow us to relocate you, you will be wiped out along with it. All talks to delay or dissuade have proven useless; there is nothing to be done to stop them.”
In the silence that followed as Worf’s words sunk in, Qul’tuq tried to focus on their hope. “This is why we were sent here; to help you.”
“You do not help!!” Es’ter shrieked.
“Taking us from our homes??” Another cried out.
“It is either that or death,” Qul’tuq spoke bluntly, her expression twisted in apprehension. “We do not want our kind to suffer death!”
Mara lunged from her place on the ground. “You are not our kind!” She spat, now standing over Qul’tuq in anger. “That has been made abundantly clear!”
Worf looked to the male half of the leading pair. “Yamtek, you must trust us; if you wish to keep your people and your village alive, you must come with us. Our ship is in orbit; we can accommodate all of you until you find a new village.”
Yamtek was still too silenced to speak. He looked to Mara, but his wife was still focused intently on Worf and Qul’tuq.
“Mara,” Qul’tuq addressed her directly as she stood and squared herself to her. “Please; do this for your people.”
“No. We are not going anywhere.” Her words were cold and firm.
“But Mara,” Yamtek also stood, ”if what this chang’eng say is true–”
“It cannot be,” she turned on him. “They only say this to remove us from our home without honor!!”
“We do no such thing,” Worf tried, but Mara turned and hissed at him while he was still on his knees.
Yamtek was growing distressed. “For the life of our people–what’s left of us–would you not... reconsider?”
“No!” She whipped her head back to her mate.
“But I... our people... we both must...” Yamtek’s head shook as he tried to speak–to no avail. When Mara’s eyes dipped away in anger, his followed suit in bewilderment.
Bellami slipped in beside Qul’tuq. “If we stay, we will die?”
“Yes,” Qul’tuq admitted achingly.
Her doe eyes drew closer. “But if Mara does not agree, no one will leave.”
“And, she will not even bother to consider her own mate’s thoughts,” she spoke under her breath. “She will punish all of you for her obstinance.”
“What was that, Qul’tuq??” The leader in question’s teeth were bared.
“Honestly, I am confused,” she spoke, bending her back to appear taller. “It is clear that mated pairs are important here, and you and Yamtek are supposed to act as one unit in your leadership. But I have seen nothing but the opposite since we landed. You’ve even admitted you tire of being around him, and you scorn those who feel differently than you do about their mates.”
“Your point is??” Her foot dug into the dirt.
“You chide Yamtek for making decisions without you, yet you refuse to take his considerations into account,” her eyes narrowed. “As far as I’m concerned, you would rather rule over this people all by yourself!”
“That is not true!!” Mara was immediately in Qul’tuq’s face. “I have ruled over this village with Yamtek for over a decade–making all decisions to protect those under us!”
“Yes–you have ruled, and you have made the decisions,” Qul’tuq stressed, “not Yamtek.”
“He was the one who decided to accept you into our village without me!” She thrust a clawed finger at her own chest.
“And he gave you your chance to decline, but you did not!”
“And now that I wish to decline on this matter, he will not accept it!”
“Because this is a matter of the life or death of your village!”
“It is not!!” She gnashed her teeth, keeping them visible under curled lips. “I know what you are doing–you have come here to uproot us–to change our ways that have kept us strong over these years! You have caused our men to overhunt! You have filled our women’s heads with stories of useless customs! You have done nothing but disrupt what we have here–and now you threaten to remove us from our land??”
“The land that can scarcely support you?” Qul’tuq shoved her way into Mara’s space. “The land that is dwindling in prey? The land that not seen a Klingon birth in over a decade?”
Mara’s face contorted into rage. “Get away from me, you filthy pateQ!!”
Judging by the way the others gasped–and how Worf bristled with anger–Qul’tuq understood this was not a good name to be called. “You dare insult my honor?” She spoke calmly and coldly, eyes narrowing.
Mara seethed each breath through her teeth. The ridges on her forehead pronounced the arching of her eyebrows. Her stance hunched over as if she were a lioness ready to pounce. “What will you do? Run back to your pujwI husband?!”
There was no audible gasp this time, but the outrage on Worf’s face spoke volumes. This was clearly the last straw. Qul’tuq bent her posture and roared at Mara.
Mara matched her stance and roared back.
Qul’tuq thrust out her hands and shoved Mara by her shoulders.
Mara shoved back even harder, knocking Qul’tuq backward.
“Mara!” Yamtek tried, but his wife spun on her heels and walked toward the bonfire, leaving Qul’tuq wavering on her feet with the air curling with heat around her.
She looked back at Worf for a moment–long enough for his eyes to dart toward the fire.
“Gemini!!” He shouted her name.
She scarcely threw up her arm to catch the iron shaft of the fire poker, stopping it with the bracer on her arm before Mara could strike her in the head. Keeping her arm in place, she kicked Mara’s unprotected middle and swiftly knocked the iron aside as her opponent buckled.
Mara recovered quickly, however, and she swung the iron through the air. She continued to swipe back and forth, missing the agile woman every time. Once she had exhausted–and frustrated–herself, Mara fell prey to a well-timed lunge from Qul’tuq, shoving her backward until her balance gave way.
The two fell with a thud beside the bonfire. Qul’tuq struggled to hold Mara down, but her opponent’s larger size soon knocked her aside.
Mara rolled to her knees and swung the iron down. She struck only the ground when Qul’tuq leapt away, and with an angry roar she sprung to her feet. Qul’tuq also gave a shout as she rushed forward, and they were soon locked in their skirmish. The two twisted and writhed until both had a hand on the iron. They fought against the other until Mara rolled her neck and bashed her forehead against Qul’tuq’s.
The smaller Klingon let out a short cry and staggered backward. While her ridged forehead absorbed much of the pain and shock, her mostly-Aravasti nature was still shaken by the strike. She fell to her knee beside the bonfire, gnashing her teeth as she steadied herself.
Worf took a step forward, looking to Qul’tuq in concern and debating if he needed to intervene.
“Do you admit defeat??” Mara barked at her.
Qul’tuq looked up through her furrowed brows. Her green eyes flickered yellow as she crouched beside the fire. “Never.”
“Mara–Qul’tuq–please!!”
Mara roared over the warning of her husband and ran toward Qul’tuq with the iron brandished.
Qul’tuq’s eyes found a long piece of wood in the fire. She grabbed the end and swung it at Mara–striking the iron and casting a flurry of embers into the air.
Despite the amount of fire billowing from Qul’tuq’s stick, Mara’s rage ensured the fight continued. They repeatedly struck weapons, shouting with each crack. After dozens of volleys, strikes, and shouts, Mara at last slipped past Qul’tuq’s fiery defense, slicing through her cheek and drawing blood.
Qul’tuq’s mouth hung open as hot blood ran down to her chin. Her eyes flashed up, her hands gripped tighter to the burning stick within them, and, with fire rippling through the wood, she roared and swung it with all her might. Embers burst like an explosion as the Qul’tuq’s staff made contact with Mara’s iron–and the iron clattered across the ground, away from its wielder.
Unarmed, Mara stepped back to avoid Qul’tuq’s blazing onslaught. She could see the flames reflected in the fire-wielder’s eyes as she attacked again and again, pushing Mara backward until she lost her footing and fell to the ground.
With teeth clenched, Qul’tuq thrust the flaming end of the stick inches from Mara’s nose–and left it there. The fire coursed through the wood and curled around its cindered edges.
Mara flinched as its heat burned her nostrils. Flaring her lips, she hissed through her teeth, “You are rightly named Qul’tuq.”
Qul’tuq was still breathing hard as Mara bowed her head in defeat. With the battle concluded, she pulled away the stick and cast it away.
The fire instantly fizzled out, leaving only a charred husk behind.
When Mara opened her eyes again, she found Qul’tuq’s outstretched hand. Her anger smoldering out, she looked at the green-eyed Klingon for a moment before huffing and accepting her hand. She was pulled back to her feet, but she quickly turned away, walking back to a very concerned Yamtek.
As he accepted his wife into his arms, Yamtek’s eyes were upon Qul’tuq. He did not speak, but there was a sense of fascination tugging at his expression.
Worf just as quickly took Qul’tuq’s shoulders into his hands, releasing her only to gently wipe the blood from her cheek. He, too, did not say a word, but his apprehension began to warm with pride at her victory.
“Mara and I will discuss this matter with our people.” Yamtek spoke after a moment, returning everyone’s attention to them. “If our emissaries... can allow us this time.”
Worf gave a curt nod as Qul’tuq answered, “Yes.”
“Taboth,” Yamtek waved to the tall Klingon. “You and Es’ter will provide our visitors with lodging; and, once they are settled, then return for our discussion.”
“Yes, Yamtek,” both Taboth and Es’ter answered, rising from their places.
“We shall give you our answer at daybreak.” Mara concluded, her face still turned away.
With outstretched arms from Taboth and Es’ter, the emissaries were led up the hill and away from the bonfire.
Scene Notes
- Pate'Q is a Klingon curse word. PuwjI' is a deragatory term meaning "weakling"
- Not gonna lie; I wrote the fight scene before I wrote most of this story :D