Menace on the Horizon

Posted on Mon Jun 10th, 2024 @ 1:03pm by Civilian Dokken
Edited on on Mon Jun 10th, 2024 @ 1:04pm

848 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: A marathon not a sprint
Location: Aboard the Crocell

A low-pitched trilling noise alerted the marauderous commander to the presence of a nuisance that he was not inviting of. I told them not to interrupt me unless it was important thought the man known to his motley crew as Dokken, a man with a mythic background who had joined the ranks of the Dead Skulls and was looking to carve a name for himself in this side of the galaxy. "The hell do you want?" he called out, lowering the tone of his voice yet projecting it clearly through the bulkheads and blast doors. "I will not ask a second time, Krax. What do you want?!" Dokken stormed to his feet and grabbed the mask that went with his armor. They made him a menacing spectre and some on his crew undoubtedly questioned whether he was man, machine, or both.

The doors opened swiftly and Dokken grabbed the Klingon mutt by the throat and with force carried him back several feet until his skull and spine collided with a nearby bulkhead. "Answer me, now, or speak no more." Dokken had only been commander of the vessel but a few cycles and on his first day of command, a mistake was made that was not to be repeated. A weapons officer spoke out of turn and was met with a Reman Jackal knife pierced through the center of her hand only to be as brutally yanked free and used to cut a portion of her tongue out. You respected the order of things on Dokken's ship, and you did as he expected.

A voice modulation device used by Dokken often gave him an artificially deepened and raspy tone. Nearly crushing the Klingon mutt's windpipe, Dokken released his vice grip to permit the man to answer. "Speak when spoken to, HoS lI' Dalo'Ha'chu'!" Translation the Klingon did require. His new commander had informed him that he was a waste of space. Krax was born on Carraya IV and was of impure blood from a dishonorable house. Being both Klingon and Romulan, he was as good as dead on most Klingon worlds. The Dead Skulls was a refuge for people like him. So long as they could be of use to people like Dokken.

"Mazar," said Krax choking and gasping for air. His life had flashed before his eyes. Dokken could tell that Krax was now more obedient with his near-death encounter. Permitting Krax to live another day was a gracious gift, but Dokken also knew these scoundrels aboard his vessel were not entirely expendable. They had finite numbers. "The tech is aboard a Federation prototype. It is in the Mazar system, Commander."

"And where the fuck are we, Krax?" Dokken slammed a fist against the bulkhead just missing, purposefully missing Krax. "It's not the Mazar system and it isn't Kansas."

Krax had no idea what a place on Earth had to do with their job. Perhaps Dokken was from Kansas? He did not know, nor did he dare ask. Some believed that Dokken was more than just Human, but not flesh and bone. Some even referred to him as a demon. Fek'lhyr incarnate thought Krax.

"Tesnia, Commander." Dokken just breathed without speaking for several moments. "Then why are you standing there cowering?" Dokken gave Krax a shove down the corridor. "Get us on a heading to the Mazar system. We need that technology!"

Dokken needed to be successful in his next role as Commander of the Crocell, an impressive and devastating vessel that he had added to the Dead Skulls' amalgamation of vessels. They had little choice in the matter but to keep him as its commander and supply him with a crew. He had a reputation that he needed to build up, and to now maintain.

He knew how important this prototype was, how pivotal the technology was, and the bounty on that was plentiful. Dokken also knew that the Federation and Starfleet would stand in his way, and that would be a costly mistake for them. He would ensure it if they defied him and the Crocell. Dokken returned to his quarters and contemplated his next move as he snatched up a PADD and began to review the Intel that had been provided to him. He may have been working with the Dead Skulls, for whomever they were working for, but Dokken worked for himself and only himself. That was something he made sharply clear. Doing the Dead Skull's bidding benefited him.

He walked to get himself a beverage, something to help take the tenseness off him. He opted for chamomile tea, something he'd picked up a habit for over the years. It would be several days until they were contacted. Enough time for them to make progress on their current objective. Success depended on his ability to lead this crew of privateers, pirates, mercenaries, and bottom of the hull scum, leading them to greatness by any means necessary. Bulkheads would be painted in the blood of anyone who got in the way.

 

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