You Again?

Posted on 29 Jun 2014 @ 3:14pm by Gul Verrok & Command Master Chief Markum Quinn

1,908 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: Episode 06 - Legend of Souls
Location: USS Galileo - Deck 7, Corridor
Timeline: MD 02 - 2240 hrs

[ON]

Deck 7 - Main Corridor

Quinn was on his second lap, trying to burn out his frustration and anger...though all he really wanted was to get his hands on that son-of-a-bitch Cardassian Tactical Officer and give him a good 'ol fashioned ass whooping, cowboy style.

With a loud swish of the large observation lounge doors, Tratar burst into the hallway full of anger and resentment at being forced to leave the dinner table for speaking the truth while the rest of his crew remained and allowed the Federation officers to denigrate them. "...Fools..." he muttered under his breath as he began to pace back and forth in the corridor.

The sound of quick footsteps approaching caused Tratar to look up just in time to see Galileo's COB rounding the corner in a steady jog. Yes...it was him...the old man who had, in front of the entire table, blindly accused the entire Cardassian race of being a bunch of no-good savages. The racist. The bigot. Tratar licked his lips and felt his hands twitch with anger as he began to walk towards the senior enlisted man to confront him.

"I admit...I was surprised to learn of pregnant women being allowed to serve aboard Starfleet vessels...but feeble old men like yourself? Shouldn't you be in a retirement facility?" the first glinn called out rather loudly with a self-satisfied smirk.

Quinn came to a full stop and stared at the Cardassian. "Funny, I can't figure out whether to laugh at you or use your spoonhead to eat my ice cream." Quinn walked up towards the young and cocky Cardassian, ready to pick the fight and for the naive junior officer to take the bait. "I'm sorry, my comment was inappropriate. I would never use your spoonhead to eat anything with...Probably because I can't tell which end is your ass, seeing all you do is talk shit, and I'd be afraid my food would get contaminated...kinda like what your filth is doing here..."

Tratar's first strike came rather quickly -- one of the benefits of a youthful body and its highly-responsive nervous system. The Cardassian's closed fist lashed out at Quinn resulting in a solid crack when it connected with the side of the COB's face.

"Shut your mouth before I break it, old fool," Tratar taunted while slowly beginning to circle around Quinn in preparation for another strike.

The pain from the Cardassian's punch seared through Markum's skull...but luckily it didn't knock him out. Quinn began to chuckle, not quite sure where it was coming from, but something about this encounter was oddly euphoric for the old Dominon War veteran. Quinn noticed that the Cardassian leaned into his punch, but that brought the youthful opponent closer. Close enough for Quinn to return the favor. A facial strike was out of the question, as the Cardassian was taller and Quinn wasn't sure he could reach that target and..quite frankly, the room was still spinning slightly.

Markum lunged at Tratar and slammed his cybernetic fist into Tratar's right upper arm, where the collar bone and arm meet. It wasn't as solid of a punch as the CoB would have liked, but the resounding thud sound let him know it was still a solid shot. "Typical Cardassian," said Quinn as he took a step back while wiping some blood from his right cheek, "you try and pick on a old man because you're too much of a damned coward to fight anyone else."

Tratar winced from the surprising shock of the blow which had come much harder and firmer than he expected. His upper arm and shoulder tingled with numbness, and it strangely felt like he had been hit with a steel bar instead of a fleshed fist. He privately hoped his collar bone was not broken, and not wanting to suffer another hit in perhaps a more vulnerable part of his body, the Cardassian lunged forward and grabbed Quinn by his dress uniform jacket to try and lock him up at close range. The momentum of the lunge carried both of them into the side wall of the corridor with another thud after which they began to wrestle for position.

The hit against the corridor bulkhead knocked the air out of the CoB's lungs, stunning him long enough for the Cardassian to gain an upper advantage against him. Shit! Quinn thought to himself as he found himself in a very unpleasant and painful position. It as hard to see with the blood from his on nose being rubbed into his eyes during the struggle. Quinn managed to free his cybernetic arm and grabbed hold of what he thought would possibly be the Cardassians's arm and squeezed. He then bit into something fleshy that was wrapped around his face.

"Ahhh!" Tratar screamed with a mix of pain and rage when he felt the COB's teeth sink into his epidermis. He ripped his appendage away from the Human man then looked down at his arm where a big chunk of skin was now missing, replaced by a bloody patch of muscle. "You animal! And you call us savages?!" To punctuate his anger, Tratar initiated a headbutt and snapped his forehead down into the center of Quinn's face with another resounding thud.

Quinn started to to feel himself fall backwards from the blow to his head. He reached out to grab hold of the Cardassian with his cybernetic arm. As he hit the ground he had a vision of the irony of this whole fight. The hard contact with the carpeted floor kept Quinn from loosing consciousness. He layed there on the ground, blood soaked, laughing boisterously. It was the type of laugh that only a man that has suffered loss and pain could let out. He looked at Tratar with tears in his eyes from laughing so hard. "You...you big oaf....That is the hardest hit I've ever felt." He was sure Tratar thought him mad, but he couldn't stop it. It felt so...free... "You're okay, Tratar. Whew! You are strong as a grizzly, son. Damn that hurt. Thank-you."

"What?" Almost as confused as he was still angry, the Cardassian tactical chief looked at the bloodied COB with a perplexed expression. Why had he thanked him? What kind of trickery was this? "Are you insane or did I merely hit you in the head too hard...?" he wondered out loud.

Quinn stopped laughing so hard and while still sitting, rested his arms upon his knees. Still chuckling, he nodded his head. "Yeah, maybe you did. But, maybe you knocked some sense into my dumb head for once. I think for so long I just got used to hating Cardassians because of the war. I just got used to hating your people. Not realizing that it wasn't all the members of the Cardassian race that should have been held responsible, but the select few that actually masterminded and initiated the war. Hell, you were most likely still in diapers when the war broke out."

The CoB wiped his blood stained face with the front of his Starfleet Engineering T-Shirt and let out a sigh. Looking up at the younger Cardassian he simply smiled and offered out his hand. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for blaming you and for being a bitter old man, that found comfort in my bigotry and racism. Hate is a hell of a thing to carry around, son. I pray that you, and your children never have to know true war. Hopefully your generation can learn from my generations mistakes."

Tratar grunted in reply, still not sure what to make of the Human in front of him. He appeared to be sincere, but then again, Humans were known for their deceptive techniques. Reaching down cautiously to grasp the COB's hand while blood dripped down his forearm from a chunk of skin missing on his arm, the Cardassian clasped Quinn's hand and pulled him up to his feet.

"I.....suppose we were both in error. I, too, have my negative opinions about your people. They are not well-liked on Cardassia...even less so in the Military Academy," he explained, though not necessarily in the most apologetic manner.

Quinn looked at his counterpart and chuckled and motioned towards the door. with his thumb. "Our superiors are going to come out of there any minute. We better beat feet and find somewhere to else to be right now. Do you like beer? I have some. I brew it you know. C'mon, and we'll get you fixed up too."

Pausing to consider the request for a moment, Tratar eventually shook his head to reject the offer. "That is generous of you but I must decline. I don't think our altercation is something we can hide from our commanders...no doubt your vessel has security cameras, and a visit to your medical bay would only elicit more questions and delays. Perhaps it would be best to mutually inform our superiors at the same time?" the Cardassian proposed. As much of an ass as Tratar could be, he was nevertheless a duty-bound officer...one who respected the chain of command and did not want to attempt to deceive his Gul.

Quinn shrugged his shoulders. "From what I remember, I was jogging along through the corridor and wasn't paying attention to where I was running and smashed right into you, at full speed. I bumped my head pretty hard, so...I thinks that's all I can recall. So, there won't need to be any big investigation or a reason to watch the security cameras."

Tratar narrowed his eyes at Quinn, this time in an attempt to judge the keen-ness of the man's plan along with any possible loopholes.

"And my arm?" He held up his still-bleeding bite wound which definitely looked like more than a simple collision accident. "Or perhaps...my arm accidentally impacted your mouth when we collided...and the force of the impact caused you to involuntarily bite down?" he suggested while shaking his head at the incredulousness of the explanation.

Quinn gave a bit of a grin. "It's a normal and common human defense mechanism. C'mon, everyone knows it. Look, I'm going back to my quarters, open a cold beer, lie to my wife...well, I can't lie to her, she empathic, but brink my beer, take a long shower and clean up then kiss my daughter goodnight then go to bed. I suggest you do whatever it is you you over on your own ship. I have learned something when dealing with the higher-ups. It's called, deny, deny, deny."

Quinn shrugged his shoulders. "I'm going. I suggest you do the same thing, but that's your choice. See ya around."

Tratar gave another of his signature grunts in acknowledgement of the COB's departure. In his head, he was still contemplating the best course of action but eventually decided it would be best to simply rendezvous with the rest of his ship's senior officers and deal with the issues when it came up. "Yes. See you," he added as Quinn walked away, not particularly comfortable with the Human idiom.

[OFF]

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First Glinn Tratar
Chief Tactical Officer
CDS Aldara
[PNPC - Saalm]

Command Master Chief Markum Quinn
Chief of the Boat
USS Galileo

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