Fight on the Promenade

Posted on Sun Mar 24th, 2024 @ 6:27am by Lieutenant JG Freya Walker & Lieutenant Nixie Wilde

3,200 words; about a 16 minute read

Mission: Mission 1 - Project Concord
Location: Space Station
Timeline: Before Transfers were finalized

Walker was having a drink. Specifically, it was sweet tea made with honey to sweeten it. It wasn't great. Replicators never got anything perfect. They were dramatically better now than when she was born. Two klingons were speaking in a derogatory manner towards a barmaid. They tried to grope her thinking she was part of the service. She typed into her padd which was linked to the station. She put in a request for Security based on very rude conduct of Klingons. It got a walk through response from Security Patrol.

Enlisted Security approached the Klingons. That didn't turn out well. The fight didn't last long at all, not even long enough for Security Patrol to call for backup. "Who called Security on us? Anyone brave enough to own it? Are all of you weak, soft, and honorless? Humans. Pathetic."

Walker got up. She saw the other red head approaching, but didn't think anything of it. She was focusing on the worst threat. "I did. I'm under Orders to call Security before I intervene. My senior officers don't like playing nursemaid to those that lose."

The Klingons were laughing. One swung on Walker, who ducked. The fight was on and blows were being traded. At some point Walker yelled, "Yeehaw." The fight was loud and boisterous, but Walker wasn't losing. Other Klingons got involved.

"What the hell is going on here?" the other redhead called out as she neared the whirling rabble. Nixie Wilde couldn't believe her eyes as a cup went sailing past her head, her body tilting to the side just in time to dodge it. "That's enough! Break it up!" the Security officer pushed in to try and pull a Klingon away from the fight to physically break it up only to be greeted by a fist that narrowly missed her jaw. Nixie's jaw tightened as she grabbed the outstretched arm, her free hand sweeping up the bottle from the bar to smack across the side of his head. She kicked out at a barstool, sending it careening at the feet of the other Klingon to unbalance them.

Walker kicked a Klingon in the back so he tripped over the barstool that Wilde kicked as his feet. She ran at the Klingon before he could get up, picking up the barstool on the way. Doing a one handed cartwheel, using the Klingon's shoulder as a pivot point, and upon landing, she upper cut him with the barstool, seat to face. She broke the barstool against his chest and then did a back handspring, kicking him in the face with both feet. "Damn Girl. That was sexy." She tossed her another bottle. "Do it again." She she blew her a kiss. Walker was flirting with Wilde. The last Klingon came running at her and she caught him with a round kick, roundhouse, round kick combo to the face, followed by a sweep to the leg.

Nixie caught her breath as she moved to the last falling Klingon, seeing him shifting to try and get up again. She placed her boot on his chest and pulled her phaser, pointing it down at him. "Just don't..." she warned before calling in for a security team to come and pick them up. "Is someone gonna tell me what's going on?" she demanded, looking around the mismatched group of recovering participants.

Walker had blood coming from her lip. "Klingons got handsy with the waitress, aggressively and sexually handsy. I notified Station Security. Station Security were outmatched. Then one of the Klingons...", she pointed to one at Wilde's feet, "that one, referred to me as Weak, Soft, and Honorless." She knelt beside him, "I'm a Walker. No one gets to refer to any of us like that. Then I flirted with you. Now I believe you to be caught up." She licked the blood from her lip.

Nix chuckled softly, catching her breath as she shook her head and looked down at the now mostly still man being held down by her foot. "Well, I'm sure there will be plenty of time to teach them some manners while they're in the brig," she assured, but she was watching the Klingon as she said it rather than the Counsellor. She glanced up when she heard the boots approaching, motioning the squad over with a hand. "You'll want to speak to the waitress and Ms Walker here to take their statements," she advised as they started to wrestle handcuffs onto the crestfallen brawlers.

Walker grinned, "Lieutenant or Doctor." She was both. "I'm sure their crew will remind them daily they got taken apart by two human females."

"Sounds like they deserve it," Nixie replied with no small amount of distaste. She hoisted him off the ground, pushing him into the arms of the security guard to pull away to a cell. "It's unacceptable in any part of the galaxy."

The only reason she offered her rank and academic status was to make sure the report was accurate. A member of her family involved in a Security situation happened almost every day. "To be fair, legitimate red heads are Special. We are just better." That came from her religion.

Nixie laughed softly at the idea of it. It was the first she'd heard the like. "I'll keep that in mind on those days when everything just seems to go wrong," she assured, adjusting her cuffs to roll her sleeves back up a little. "Nixie Wilde, I'm the Chief of Security for the Concord."

Walker offered her a hand, "Freya Walker. I'm going to be the Couselor on the Concord. I have PhDs in Psychology and Anthropology. Well versed in Warrior Cultures. Doing this", she motioned to Klingons being taken away, "My father's family trains in Kosho Shorei Ryu Jujitsu. The Ten Soft Touches variation, not the Kempo." Kempo was an offshoot. The older variant required ten structured disciplines just to get a Black Belt, then you had to choose Samurai or Shinobi. "I grew up on New Asgard Colony with a bunch of Vikings." She grinned. "That is just the easiest way to explain why I can do this.

Nixie gave a half smile and a soft chuckle as she shook her hand, imagining that would be easier most of the time. Even if it would conjure some vivid imagery. "I've heard of it," the far travelled security officer assured with a nod. "Good to see them representing in the 'fleet."

She smiled, "We are human. My father was from Texas on Earth. My Mother is from New Asgard. New Asgard and our Sister Colony repatriated after the Birth of the Federation before the Federation Klingon Wsr. Klingons raided us and we raided them back, not begging for help fromthe Rest of the Federation. Vulcans and Romulans would come and debate Philosophy with our Priests. I remembered my grandmother having Tea with a Vulcan Ambassador.

"I'm sure that was a barrel of laughs," a small smile of amusement played across Nixie's lips as she moved to the bar, motioning for a drink and stretching her neck to the side in recovery from the sudden combat.

Walker grinned, "Do you eat food?" She was in the process of submitting her written report to Security. She signed it as she asked the other red head out.

"Sure, I've got time for some lunch," Nixie glanced at the time to be sure, and took a glance around for good measure to check the mess had been put well and truly under control. "Sure you've still got an appetite after that?"

Walker grinned, "I can eat." She licked her lips.

Nixie shook her head with a chuckle, motioning for her to follow her with a tilt of her head, walking for a table with her hands deep in her pockets. "You know, you should be careful about getting involved in barfights."

Walker smiled, "My wife used to say the same thing." Her smile changed because her wife had passed on while she was on the USS Broken Arrow and dealing with Q Drama. It was still a smile, but it was less cocky and more love. She had been in the Klingon Federation War and plucked out by Q. When all that was done, she was told there was no way she could go back and even if she could, it would pollute the timeline.

Nixie saw the change on her features, and recognised it for what it was. She'd seen it so often during her years on the frontier. "I'm so sorry," she said quietly, shaking her head.

"For me, I was only kidnapped by Q a few years ago. For her, and everyone else, the Klingon Federation War when I was listed MIA, was a very long time ago. She remarried. She had children. For me, Fighting Klingons is still easy. Maybe I can get lucky twice. A fling that turns into love. If not, with an eidetic memory, I will always have the fling. You're crazy enough to back me up. You aren't a douse the bed with lighter fluid crazy are you?"

"No, this is my job," Nixie laughed weakly, shaking her head as she motioned back to the bar. "When you work in security, you can't look the other way. At least, it would make me pretty bad at my job if I did."

"My last ship was Commanded by a Security Officer that was Qualified in SRT, HRT, and RRT. That and Q bouncing us all over space and time, we were required to meet or exceed Security Physical and Range Requirements. I'm glad we had to. If I wasn't that ships Head Counselor, I wouldn't be a Department head at all. The Sweat it out branch of Psychological Treatment doesn't promote well, despite us getting along very well with Security, Tactical, and Armory personnel."

Nixie decided to keep her views on counselling to herself, sitting back in her chair to stretch her legs out, crossing her ankles. "Let's hope that our new mission doesn't end up with us being bounced around the cosmos. We've only just put the war to bed."

"Last War I saw, Klingons were the enemy. I come back and they are allies in the Dominion War. It was strange. The enemy were shapeshifters and reptilian hominids. The times changed, but not entirely."

"They say that war never changes," Nixie shook her head with a soft sigh, resting her hands behind her head with a slight frown at the idea. "Honestly, it will be good to go into the unknown for a while."

Walker ordered them shots, "Known. Unknown. We can find fun in it."

Nixie folded her arms with amusement, motioning to the table. "I thought we were ordering food," she laughed softly, but clearly wasn't bothered by the change of plan.

"Earth has things called hot wings." She grinned. "Do you like Chicken? Spicy Chicken?"

"Sure thing," Nixie tilted her head to her, almost as if she'd been wearing a hat. She set her feet up on the chair close by, resting her clasped hands in her lap. "What's the food like where you're from?" she asked with genuine curiosity.

"Considering we are human, it is Earth food. It is a lot of Dutch and Celtic food. We have Chicken, but it is usually grilled or smoked." Walker thought for a moment, "Picture if Celtic and Nordic Pagans made it to modern times and twist in Barbecue."

Nixie chuckled at the picture that came to mind. Platters of whole animals. Fires roasting. Primal and basic. "I have a feeling that it would involve a high protein diet," she teased her.

Walker grinned, "The ritual hunt is part of our culture. It is part of our Kenning Rites. Yes, I eat meat. However, we do have replicators. The modern replicators are a lot better than when I was a kid. We also farmed. Because of replicators we didn't have food shortages. Now, the ritual hunt is more ritualized than necessity. My childhood we did it weekly at a minimum. The replicators sucked back then. These replicator wings tastes decent." She leaned forward, "I know how to ride a bull too." She was flirting. "Back in the early 21st, a lot of separatist groups aimed to get approval for colonization. A group of American Pagans and some European Pagans."

"I get that," Nixie assured, smiling softly...because although she hadn't brought it up yet, she came from a colony with a similar history. "I have to ask though....why ride a bull?" she asked with a confused laugh.

"Holding on to a bull while it bucks for eight seconds is a test of Strength, several kinds of Strength, not just physical. Why stare down a giant crocodile or alligator? It tells us what our soul is made of.

"Ah...it's for sport," Nixie nodded with realisation, letting out a soft breath, able to understand that at least. "Well, so long as the animal isn't hurt, I can see that getting the blood pumping."

Nodding, Walker smiled, "If a bull bucks off enough riders, it is put out to stud. Fed the best feed and breeding several times a week."

"Think that's what we'll get when we've done our time in the fleet?" Nixie laughed at the idea of it, stretching her legs out to cross her ankles comfortably.

"I have land and a farm and grove to return to.", "Walker grinned. "I got apple trees. They make the best pies."

"Well now I expect you to make me one next time we're passing," Nixie warned Walker with an arched eyebrow, hooking her arm over the back of her chair.

Walker grinned, "Oh you wanna be a good little farm frau?"

"Nah, no more hard labour for me," Nix shook her head with a soft laugh at the idea of it. Those days were well and truly behind her. "I do miss fresh food though. Don't get me wrong, replicators are a miracle, but...it's not quite the same."

"The Replicators are so much better now. Bacon tastes like Bacon now. It used to be most meat tasted like baloney."

Nixie laughed at the comparison, shaking her head lightly at the prospect, even if she'd never tried baloney, so wouldn't know if it was true or not. "I'm not complaining. Anything's better than rations..."

"Baloney and hot dogs were left over meat parts into a grinder and turned into a paste and molded then sliced."

"I mean, when you put it like that, how could I resist," Nix shook her head, making a slight face at the prospect. "Still, if you gotta eat, you gotta eat."

She leaned forward, "I can't introduce you to my parents, but I can introduce you to my great Nephew the butcher on my colony."

"Great nephew..." Nixie gave a soft whistle, shaking her head with a small smile. "How did you get your head around that? You know...the age...time...difference...the changed world."

Freya grinned, "I'm running away on a Deep Space Voyage to get myself more time to acclimate. I saw a Klingon in a Starfleet Uniform. It was weird. We had one on the Broken Arrow, but he was Godfathered in to wear our uniform."

Nixie watched her with understanding. Yeah, she'd probably do the same if it was her. Hell, it was pretty much what she had done when she had left home. "I think there's still some pretty strong feelings about Klingons in Starfleet amongst some people. But it's less common now. Now...Ferengi in uniform, that's my double take."

"I tend to only trust a Ferengi to Sexually Harass me or try and sell me a used car." Freya grinned.

Nixie laughed, unable to help it as she nodded, sighing as she tugged her sleeve up. "I know it's....really unfair to stereotype, but yeah. I've seen the trouble they cause out on the frontier. In the name of profit. I guess I'm not as open minded as I should be."

"Certain groups are proud of their stereotypes. Ferangi are one of those." Freya spoke. "For a couple of hundred years, Viking meant Savage and Brutal Raider. In truth, it just meant working for a king. Even the Heathens were proud of that misnomer. They were so proud of it, they would argue in it's favor."

"Is that the culture you identify most with?" Nixie asked softly with interest, wondering what it must be like to come from an ideology that didn't necessarily fit in the Federation frame.

She grinned, "The colony I grew up was founded by Pagans who practiced the Old Nordic Ways. We are genetically human. Most of genetically from Norway with some Irish and Scottish mixed in. Viking in truth was an Explorer and Trader. Until the first Viking Age, when we were required to get violent. I did earn my status as a Viking. We should go to the range sometime.". She licked her lips.

"But none of Starfleet's culture has rubbed off along the way?" she asked softly, watching her carefully. She seemed carefree in many respects, but serving in a fleet with so many rules had its shackles of responsibility.

"Vulcans would come to debate and study with our Druids and Gothar. Klingons from a nearby sector would raid us, we would go back and raid them. No Culture is completely immune from contamination or inspiration. To my knowledge, we are the same as we were when my ancestors settled there." Freya grinned, "There is no way to say that and it be truth. Two snowflakes from separate nights may look the same, but they aren't. Neither snowflake is the same from falling to caught."

Nixie nodded with understanding as she thought on it, relating it to her own experiences. "They say that's why the Federation stands strong, after all. Our diversity makes us stronger."

"federation has its own culture. However, it respects indigenous cultures and doesn't force submission.". She smiled. "Federation says these are our stands, join or not join. They don't make us give up us. The Haedenfolk just don't go out of the way to earn the Viking Title. If we do the tasks, we send a message home."

"It's an interesting concept," Nixie nodded with agreement, letting out a soft breath as she looked into the distance, not seeing, just thinking. "When I worked out on the frontiers, the Federation was more of an...idea than a reality. Even for allied colonies. It's difficult to hold the line when that happens. That's when the idea of a thing becomes vital."

"The Viking Colonies in Scotland and Ireland were never the same as Norway. They never could be. Our Colony is far from what the True Vikings had. Time, Distance, Allies, Enemies, and even Resources effect that. That is likely true out in the frontier."

Nixie looked back to her at that, chuckling softly as she nodded with understanding. "Let's hope we're not going to be the same out in the Delta quadrant."

"My grandfather said, you can hope in one hand and shit in the other and see which one weighs more. Be prepared for shit."

[Off]

 

RSS Feed