The Reading of Lines

by

J. Michael Tipton

One ship – two Klingons – and a romance that’s out of this galaxy!

The stars stood out harsh and stark in the void.

A shimmer went across the view and moved on.  If anyone had been there, hanging in the absolute cold of space, they would have glimpsed the rough shape of a painted bird overlaid on the stars as something passed between them and the distant suns.  As it was, no one saw it and nearby sensors detected nothing but a slight neutrino jump which was too slight to flag any alarms.

Sliding through the void flew the Skrillklaw, a Vor-Tech class Klingon cruiser.  It was an old Empire ship but it was strong like her crew and bore its name proudly.  The only problem with it which Captain Artheth Pu’Keth considered was their patrol route.  He was bored and ready to tear the throat out of something, but there was nothing but clean space around him.

The door behind him screeched opened.  Shaklaw Path stood in the doorway, her bright dark eyes taking in the entire bridge at once and then observing the stars displayed on the view screen.  In mere seconds she knew where they were and what speed they were traveling at, and as she stepped in and nodded to her captain, she said, “Our route has changed.  We are headed to the boundary of the Romulan Empire.”  to the navigator sitting at her station she said, “You are relieved!” and sat down, checking her instruments.

“Yes.” Said Pu’Keth.

Shaklaw merely nodded.  “We will be in sensor range in four days.”

Her captain nodded.

“I have completed the weapons check.” First Gunner Gorith Te’Keth reported with some eagerness.  “All is in readiness.”

Captain Pu’Keth nodded again.  He hated them all, but they were efficient and he would not have traded them in for anything…except perhaps a better patrol route.  He was pushing his orders to the limit traveling this close to the Romulan boarder, but he would rather die in battle than rust away with this old ship, good as she was.

Second Gunner Mogh Fith’Ku  stepped on the bridge and relieved Gorith.

Gorith turned to his captain.  “I am relieved, Sir.”

Captain Pu’Keth stared at the view screen.

Gorith waited.  They always had to wait a few minutes before the Captain would allow them to leave.  No one knew why he did this, nor did they much care.  It was the most challenge they had and it was almost a relief to stand fully at attention for those precious minutes and barely breathe.  Gorith was within four minutes of winning the Pride of Pu’Keth award the officers (except the Captain) had invented just for this purpose.  If the captain would stall for four more minutes, Gorith would surely win the award this month.  It would be his first win in the two years he had been aboard.  It might win him a willing female.

Female.

The word stuck in his mind and faltered.

“I said, leave!” Captain Pu’Keth roared at Gorith.

Gorith managed to stop himself from jumping and merely nodded and left the bridge.  He checked the time.  He needed another minute.  He left scowling as the captain growled at his back, hating him even more.  “Now he’s gone deaf.”

Gorith stalked towards the kitchen, intent on food, when a repair officer female stopped him.  “Navigator Path wishes to speak with you after her duty shift on the bridge.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.  I merely pass along her message, First Navigator.”

“Very well.”

What does Path want with me? Gorith wondered.

He found out some hours later, when they happened to meet in a corridor.

Shaklaw pushed him up against a bulkhead and growled at him in a violent fashion.  She was very interested in him as a mate and wanted him to know it.

Gorith growled back and then stopped, suddenly uninterested.  ‘What’s wrong with me?’  He wondered.

“What’s wrong?” Shaklaw asked in a sultry voice, a deep growl coming up for another round.  “Would you rather I hurled things at you in my quarters?”

“I … “ He was about to say “I don’t think so.”  but stopped himself.  There was no need for bloodshed…not yet.  “I am distracted and of no use to anyone.  I won’t waste your time.” and when she dropped him, he strode off down the corridor.

Shaklaw was so stunned that she merely stood there instead of breaking his neck.  She regretted the mistake but there was nothing to do about it presently.  At her next off-shift she would make up for her inaction.  Perhaps she’d even string up his entrails across the bridge to try and cheer up the Captain.

Gorith retreated to his room, where his bunkmate Mogh relaxed by polishing his knife.  “Did she find you appealing?” He asked casually.  “Did you get a good bite out of her?”

“No!”

Mogh looked up.  “What’s wrong with you?  She’s attractive and she wants you, she’s made that clear.”

“I don’t want her.  I don’t know why!  I thought I did, but I don’t.  I’d rather kill something!” and Gorith pounded on the steel bulkheads, denting them a little more each time.  He often wondered how much more was needed until he broke them.  “I sound like a Federation weakling!”

“One day you’ll reach space.” Mogh observed, returning to his polishing.

“And?!?”

Mogh didn’t take his eyes off of the beautiful blade he was polishing.  “Then you’ll either die, and me with you, or the Captain will make you repair that bulkhead with your teeth.”  Mogh flashed Gorith a wicked smile.

Gorith smiled back.  Mogh was always good for his moods.  “In that case…I would use my very teeth to repair it so I could again punch it back out!” he roared heartily and slammed his fists into the wall again.

“That’s better.  Let’s eat.”

They walked into the kitchen and looked around.  On a ship the size of the Skrillklaw, there were only thirty crew and officers.  In the kitchen, only about a quarter of them were present at any one time.  This was no exception.  They both walked on as if they were in charge, since there were no ranking officers present, and everyone there gave them their way.  It was nothing, but it felt good to increase the tension.

Mogh was disappointed.  “They won’t even challenge us so we can kill them.” he said in disgust.  “If only a Romulan would attack us.”

Gorith agreed and then caught the eye of a warrior staring hard at him.  He snapped his eyes around to spear the man, but instead of challenge, he saw only curiosity.

‘Strange,’ he thought, unsure of himself.  He looked again as he passed. 

The warrior, an Environmental Controls Specialist, stared back with a look similar to that of Shaklaw.  Gorith didn’t know what to do, but somewhere deep inside, he felt…pleased.  He let a low growl escape his lips before he knew what he had done and Mogh turned to him.

“Find someone pleasing, friend?”

“Er….Yes.  I think so.”

“Good!  Let’s get some blood wine!  You get the Gagh!  Make sure it’s fresh or we’ll kill the cook today!” he roared for all to hear and brought forth laughs.

Gorith later saw the Armory Officer, a heavyset female named Zanteh Film’Ta speaking to the bulky but shorter Bort Fan’Stik, that Environmental Control Specialist with the eyes.  Gorith had learned his name earlier.  At first he thought they may have been a couple, but then realized she was giving him a dressing down. 

Feeling awkward for the first time in his life, Gorith continued down the corridor and didn’t look at either of them.  A few minutes later he walked back and found Bort alone.

“I’ve been waiting for you, First Gunner.” Bort said formally.

“I am here.”

“I wish to speak to you in my quarters.  My bunkmate is on shift for four more hours.”

Gorith nodded, not sure what he was doing, but reluctant to move on.  Inside the quarters, some two doors away, Bort closed the outer door and pulled out some blood wine.  Gorith took it easily enough, but Bort was reluctant to release the cup, as if he feared it would be taken and not given back.  Gorith tugged it away angrily and Bort smiled.

‘That makes me…pleased.’  Gorith thought, and growled low in his throat.  Bort responded in kind and then they both stopped.

“Is this wrong?” Bort asked.  “I don’t feel this way around females, but around you my blood boils like the Sea of Pain.”

“Yes!  I know.” Gorith said, almost as if he were in a trance.  He leaned forward and bit the cheek of Bort, drawing his sweet blood.

Growling, Bort did the same thing.  Instead of feeling insecure, however, they were both elated.  The Control Specialist rummaged around his room and brought out two books of poetry.  Handing one to Gorith, he stepped back to the end of the room and began reading.  Gorith stepped back to the bulkhead door and did the same, each taking turns.

They read of courage, blood, and of great battles lasting days.  Their blood raged in their veins, sending chills of delight through them.  They howled and called out their desire for each other as was the Klingon way, and waited.

…and waited.

And they waited some more, staring at each other from across the room, both perplexed.   Both were holding their books, eager for the rest of the ritual, but it never came.  They both shook with tension and desire – eyes locked from across the room – both stuck in ritual which called for a female to throw something their way so they could duck and continue reading.

Without the female, there was no indication that they were allowed to continue.

Gorith looked around.  “I don’t know how to proceed.”

Bort looked crestfallen.  “Neither do I.”

“If there were a female here, we would be copulating after she broke half the things in here.  But we’re not female.”

“No, we’re not.”  Bort looked up.  “But I’m glad of that.  I don’t know why, but I am.  I would have you as my mate, Gorith, if you would have me!”

“I would have you as well!”

They started reading poetry again, bellowing the verses at each other and trying to out-bellow each other, but at the same time straining to hear every word of their lover and to savor the ideas being echoed around the room.

Twenty minutes later they stared at each other…waiting.

“Damn it all to the Hell Of Forgotten Heroes!” Roared Gorith.

“We’re incompetent lovers.” Bort said.  “Perhaps we shouldn’t do this?”

“No!  I wish this!  I will break with tradition.  YOU will throw something at me.  Now!  Then I will capitulate.”

Bort smiled and gnashed his teeth, making Gorith long for his touch.  Bort threw his book and Gorith dodged it easily, reading from his book and grinning madly, licking the blood of Bort off his lips and incisors.

“Ha!” Gorith finished, hurling his book at Bort.  Bort picked it up and began reading from it, dodging items being thrown at him in turn.  When Gorith began tearing out pieces of the metal bunk, Bort put a stop to it by grabbing Gorith’s arm.

“No!  I must have a place to sleep!”

Gorith cold-cocked him with his elbow, sending Bort reeling.  Bort retaliated by swipe-kicking the legs out from Gorith, sending him to the ground.  Gorith swung a steel beam at Bort and they wrestled over it, Gorith getting the height and a better position on top of Bort.  They heaved and pulled, threw punches and bit – lightly – all the while stripping bits of their armor and clothing off.  Helping each other as they did so.

When at last they were near naked and in the full throes of their passions, the door opened.

Armory Officer Zanteh stood in the doorway.  She had intended to let Bort know she did not intend to throw him out of a convenient airlock as she had threatened earlier, but she would probably still beat him senseless and then…perhaps…read some poetry.  Now, she just stood and stared. 

‘They’re certainly busy.’  She thought.  And they were most definitely enjoying what they were doing, but she wasn’t sure it was right, as they were both males …and playing both parts!  Environmental Control Specialist Bort, however, seemed to be taking on more of the female roles, she noted.

Slamming the door behind her – to which no one but her noticed – she stormed up to the Captain’s cabin.

“What is it, Dammit!”  Captain Pu’Keth roared, letting Zanteh know she was allowed to enter.

“I am reporting some unusual crew activities.”

“What are they?  Has someone been stabbed or spaced this time?” the captain growled, reading some reports at his desk and giving in to a grin of anticipation for a stabbing report.

“That is not what is occurring, even now.  It is…different.”

He was intrigued.  “How?”

“Two crewmen are engaged in sexual ritual.  An officer and a crewman.”

“So what?”

“They are both male warriors.” Zanteh said.  “They are playing both roles in their cabin.”

“Males?” Artheth said more to himself than to anyone.  “Males.”  He knew they needed battle, but not this badly!   To Zanteh he said, “Send word to the bridge:  Battle Alert.”

Zanteh ran from the room with his message while he dressed in his battle armor.  He grabbed a knife and his favorite dagger, then snapped up his bat’leth and strode confidently to the bridge.  “This has got to stop!” he raged.  “Not only are my warriors sloppy, but they’re so confused and bored that favored rituals have been perverted.”  He bit his lip in anticipation.  It was time for action!

Gorith and Bort were just figuring out how to make things work for them when the klaxons sounded.  Without a second thought they dressed and ran to their stations, ready for anything.  They didn’t give each other a second look as they left, but both felt a need they had only before related to females, but now felt for each other.

The Skrillklaw decloaked and raised its shields, warming up phaser banks and prepping torpedoes eager to fly.  On the bridge, Captain Pu’Keth read some battle poetry to his bridge crew to get them in a different mood, and had a half cup of blood wine handed out to everyone on the ship; a salute to those who would die this day as he took them into battle.  The ship left its patrol route and entered Romulan space, openly displaying its bravado and inviting attack.

It was not long before their snubbing of agreements was met with equal anger and many decloaking green painted ships.

After the Skrillklaw had defeated two Romulan scout ships and ran off the other three, they returned to their own space, content with the battle and feeling invigorated.  Bodies of the dead were ejected towards the Romulan home worlds.  They made such a celebratory ruckus that anyone outside the ship may have heard it, even through the vacuum of space.  Cheers and roars for the dead resounded throughout the ship for hours before they crossed once more into their old patrol route and settled back down into routine. 

Two days later Captain Artheth Pu’Keth discovered First Gunner Gorith Te’Keth and Environmental Control Specialist Bort Fan’Stik engaged in romance atop the air purifiers.  Equipment and tools had been flung everywhere, and some damage had been sustained by both the lovers and environmental control systems. 

After nearly killing Bort with his bare hands and beating Gorith half to death with some wrenches, Captain Pu’Keth ordered them both to be shunned from Pain-Stick Day for a full month as punishment. 

Punishment not because of the acts they were performing with each other;  No.  Punishment for neglecting their duties and damaging critical ship systems with their love play:  Yes. 

Harsh retaliation would prevent this from occurring again outside of a bunk, or so he thought.

The Skrillklaw passed invisibly through the harsh light of the stars, continuing its dull voyage.