one \\ Ten Forward Lounge

[savagemind]

The ship was falling.

Correction: the ship had fallen, skipping across the ocean like a pebble on a lake, scraping Alcatraz clean and tumbling towards the city. Sparks showered the bridge, alarms screaming about hull integrity, bulkhead damage, warp and impulse drive failure. None of it mattered. From his perch in the captain's chair, Khan let nothing but grief and rage fill his thoughts as the city skyline filled the viewscreen.

They'd taken everything from him. Now he would return the favor.

The saucer struck. Khan was thrown forward, and everything went white--


And he woke, aching and crumpled on a cold floor. He pushed himself up, face twisted in a silent snarl, and took stock, mind immediately jumping to one single, obvious conclusion.

Starfleet.

They should have let him die with his crew. Their mistake.

Comments

[immutablysam]

"Sam, Sam Bowe, and I only have two hands. It'll take a minute or ten to finish disarming."

After Worf takes those, there's the knife at the small of Sam's back. Then the boot knives. then the spare side sheaths. Then under the vest on the left. And the concealed brace of throwing knives at the right. Each handed over two at a time.

Sam likes his knives, ok?

"Just tell me how to go about earning that, then. I don't much like being disarmed long. From the way you hold yourself, you're used enough to a weapon to appreciate that." 'He's' done as asked, and stood down, and handed over the blades so far, after all. Good start.

[alwaysnotwrong]

Worf stifles his urge to ask how long Mr. Bowe had been holding on to this small battery of weapons, though his not inconsiderable eyebrows pinch closer together over the ridges of his nose, the more knives make their debut into the waiting hands of the attendant security officer beside him.

"The Enterprise is a galaxy class vessel intended for exploration and civilian life; she abides by Starfleet rules and regulations to police her population, and does not require vigilantism." Worf examines Sam for a hard moment or two. "If you wish to retain your weapons, you will need to prove that you understand Federation guidelines and be willing to follow them. Even then, you may only keep them within your quarters." The mek'leth wedged into the belt at the back of his robes is sitting heavy at the moment, but Worf can play by these rules just as well as any Starfleet Officer. He will attend to those once he has finished lecturing this civilian.

It feels strange to slip into his old role so easily, but until he has a better understanding of what is going on, somebody needs to ensure that order is being enforced in this situation.

It's at this point that the two humans go for their grappling throws, and Worf, brief but firm, turns a few last words at Sam: "when this is over, then we will talk." No nonsense, considering there is more than enough of it going on around Bashir and this dangerous new arrival. Then the Klingon turns his full attention back to the scene and the few other officers that have arrived upon it, coordinating a moment to deal with Khan safely.

Until Doctor Bashir is able to teleport the two of them directly to safety, the only one keeping an eye on Sam is the officer who is carefully dealing with his mess of knives. At that point, it looks as though the Klingon is going to be preoccupied by sending a team to sickbay to determine the state of the two men, and then forwarding a report to the Captain. Just like old times... then, if Sam is still present, he turns the human's (or at least humanoid's) way again. "You have chosen an inconvenient time to make my acquaintance, Mr. Bowe." It is not necessarily a dismissal, more a growling gripe. Worf has only just barely come to terms with his own displacement, and he has already had to deal with two similarly violent situations!

[immutablysam]

Against his typical nature, Sam waits patiently during the altercation, arms crossed, taking note of every movement - he can't get involved... at least not with the alien watching - getting his weapons back is more important than the scrap, and apparently more important to the locals than helping make sure no one is hurt. So... he'll play the good soldier for now.

Besides, this is a chance to study and assess. Khan is going to be trouble. Sam is sure of it. So every shift, every stance, every move is filed away for the point where there's a reckoning.

When Worf returns, Sam is still where he was left. "With all these newcomers showing up aboard your civilian vessel, some of 'em prone to violence, seems there ain't going to be many convenient times." he replies casually.

"Nice blade. Let me know if you ever want a sparring partner in your fancy training room things."

[alwaysnotwrong]

"Hmph," was the most witty reply that Sam was going to get, at least for the mean-time. After one more interruption -- this time at the behest of Julian, calling off Worf -- the Klingon finally returned his full attention to the human. Sam reminded him terribly of a program that his son had enjoyed as a boy... it was the accent, the tonality of it all. "We have all dealt with Q before. That you have all been brought here by him gives us a common frame of reference." The invitation, however, causes the Klingon to raise his chin appreciatively. "Perhaps another time. The training simulations aboard the Enterprise allowed me to hone my skill and 'vent off steam'. They may become useful for some of you, as well." Though Worf had no idea who Khan was at the time of his appearance, he could at least speculate that the man would either end up focusing all of that feral rage into training or time in the brig. It could not otherwise be both!

[immutablysam]

That gets a bit of a grin. "Spent my whole life training. Already been enjoying the holodecks to start learning a dozen more styles. Can't wait to see what else there is to pick up." The alien moved and handled himself like a warrior - that bearing is part of the reason Sam just went along with it, even when it looked like Khan could end up hurting people, maybe badly. There's a degree of respect for other fighters.

"Later is right. Seems like you got a mess to clean up."

[alwaysnotwrong]

"You are an enthusiast," Worf noted, interest perked. When Sam commented on the situation, the Klingon merely gave a growled "hmm," of agreement. "Your cooperation is appreciated," he added, once he received confirmation of his old -- no, his current team.

Though he was about to do a post mortem on the entire situation, he spared Sam a last question: "In which rooms are you quartered? We shall speak again, when pulling a blade is respected and encouraged."

[immutablysam]

Sam gives 'his' room information. A chance to maybe learn some new moves, and find out more about some of these aliens is well worth the trouble.

"Enthusiast? Yeah, you could say that."

[alwaysnotwrong]

Worf isn't going to judge Sam whether 'he' is technically male or not -- regardless of if a tricorder scan could out the human one way or another, the Klingon has spent much time with a Trill host, which means seven generations of life to contend with and occasionally address. He's learned not to drag things through the mud. Besides, he is Federation raised. If 'he' has a secret, Worf is not going to out him, or even really ask!

"Mr. Bowe, I will give you one piece of advice. Enthusiasts are appreciated aboard this vessel. Warriors born and raised take time to be worked into the fold. Choose your words with the same consideration that you might choose one enemy in a melee and you will be that much closer to understanding the Federation." With that, the Klingon gave a curt nod, and left Sam to fend for himself... at least for now!