Star Trek Hunter
Episode 27: The Sword of Destiny
Scene 1: Bat'leth ',' QeyliS
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27.1
Bat'leth ',' QeyliS*
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Greta Leifsdottor sat cross-legged on the floor in her quarters, removing rock from a bat'leth. The design was ancient, but those parts of the sword that had already been revealed looked as though the blade could have been forged last week. It did not look like a blade that had survived hundreds of years of battle, a thousand years of neglect and more than a decade of floating in empty space about the Gamma Quadrant – at some point colliding with a small asteroid at some astounding velocity and becoming fused with it.

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Dahar Master Kor was a great storyteller and while his companions who had found this sword - and deliberately lost it again - remained mute on the subject, Kor spun one magnificent lie after another about finding it and where, in the Gamma Quadrant, it might yet be found. And thousands of klingons and other adventurers had flooded through the wormhole to quest for it - many of them never to return. But only one of those adventurers had the family resources to buy off the many researchers and investigators who had been hired by the others to assist with that quest, the support of the entire Archaeology Department at the University of Helsinki in Finland (including an aunt who was the head of that department) and family ties to Kor himself…

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Greta's first tool for cleaning the rock from the blade had been an archeologist's disruptor, then a series of small hammers and chisels. At this point she was using steel wool and brushes. The blade was so sharp where part of it was revealed that it had cut easily through the bristles of the brush she was using.

This had been for months her very private discipline – three hours a day during the middle of the day.

Greta's crew knew they were only to call on her during that time if there was an emergency that they could not handle. Under no circumstances were they to enter her quarters. Three months of cleaning – three hours a day – and Greta knew she was halfway there. She carefully placed the sword in its case and spent the last 15 minutes as she always did – putting away tools, sweeping up rock and debris and disciplining her mind.

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Greta's skin was porcelain white. Her extremely long hair was light blonde. She was nearly 6'8" - extremely tall and lean with the straight jawline and lanky arms and legs of her Finnish ancestors. She was a quarter klingon; her forehead ridges were very muted and she might be mistaken for human at first glance - more Viking than klingon. Her long, fine blonde hair was laced with silvered twine and braided into a pony tail that extended from the back of her head almost to her knees.

She stepped out of her quarters and into the corridor that led to the bridge. On this new design, the officer's mess and the captain's quarters were on the same deck as the bridge. The I.K.V. K'mpec was more compact than a bird of prey, but carried more crew, was more heavily armed and was much faster. It was only two steps from the captain's quarters to the bridge.

As soon as the doors opened, Commander Utash, Greta's first officer and first cousin once removed, stood up. "Captain on the Bridge!" The five other bridge officers straightened in their chairs but did not stand up from their stations. Greta took her seat in the center chair. At 24 she was not the youngest captain of an Imperial scout class vessel, but she was by far the youngest to helm one of the newer designs.

"Report, Commander." Greta's use of the Klingon language was crisp and at the same time flowing – a sound only heard among members of the most noble klingon families and among them only the most highly educated - an accent polished at the exclusive veS DuSaQ**. It was a nearly impossible accent to fake largely because it was so rarely heard.

"The telemetry from the Usotro remains unchanged," said Utash. "If Damon Trock is being followed, he is not aware of it yet."

"Damon Trock is paying us well for protection in this dangerous place. Navigator Krass, set up a standard sweep pattern, port to starboard, down to up," Captain Greta ordered. "Lieutenant Diz, keep us cloaked, engage search pattern when ready and conduct at warp factor 6.5. Cousin, report to sensor control. The jem'hadar are here. I can smell them. They must have developed cloaking technology. But it will not be as good as ours. It might be good enough to fool our computers. But it won't be good enough to fool your instincts when you analyze the raw feed."

"If they are here, I will find them, my Captain," said Utash. He turned and exited the bridge.

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The captain sprawled comfortably all over her chair. Her armor – as that of her crew – was an obvious update of standard ablative plastic klingon armor. The muted, dark silver chest plates, hauberk, grieves and bracers were the same color as the plastic jacket and knickers to which they were attached. The knickers tucked into black plastic boots that came half-way up the thighs with thick, black plastic grieves for the knees. The entire uniform was much sleeker and far less adorned than the classic klingon armor it was derived from. The thigh-high boots served to emphasize how long the captain's legs were.

She surveyed her crew like a queen surveying her realm. The bridge was dark, but crisp, clean. Her crew were klingon except for her ranking pilot, Lt. Bruce Diz, who looked entirely klingon except for the dreadlocks and midnight black skin – gifts from his Jamaican mother – a singer. Diz had inherited a huge, wonderful voice from her as well.

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Greta sat up in her chair, opened a channel throughout the scout ship and started rhythmically pounding the arm rest with her armored fist. Then she started singing with a clear, high, powerful voice:

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"He HljmeH jav SuS je pemHov vaj qalegh

"tlhop lang nlSwl' lugh DoH maH

" Duj tlhap maH"***

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The crew on the bridge joined her in the chorus. Over the comm system, the voices of crew members throughout the ship could be heard joining in – a powerful unison swiftly breaking into a mass of thick, close and precise harmonies:

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"Huch buy' tlhap

"wa' 'ay' vItlhap - wa' 'ay' tlhap

"'vagh 'ay', tlhap HoD

"nIHwI' Huch tlhab"***

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As Captain Greta sang the next verse, her crew emphasized rhythmic pauses by shouting, "jaH" (go):

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"vaj tal loDHom boch 'ej Huv 'och, SuH botlhDaq je

"von nIHwI' - val nIHwI' - nom nIHwI'

"SuvtaHvlS ghaH Huch, SuvtaHvlS ghaH yin. Huch SoH ghob'e' baj SoH"***

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And the chorus started again:

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"Huch buy' tlhap

"wa' 'ay' vItlhap - wa' 'ay' tlhap…"

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* Bat'leth ',' QeyliS (thlingn Hol - Sword of Kahless)

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** veS DuSaQ (thlingn Hol - Warfare Academy)

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*** - roughly translated from the traditional Klingon hunting shanty:

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By the way that even the wind and the sun was six to hold and all to see you

The right front we get away from thin

And we take their ship

The thief's money is free (from taxation)

And it's one part for you and it's one part for me

And it's five parts for the Captain

The theif's money is free

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So polish the cannon and clear out the tubes

The thief is clever, The thief is quick

The thief fights for money, the thief fights for life. You must earn your share…

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