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The Heorot - the return of Kara Nakuto

Posted April 25, 2020, 7:19 p.m. by Civilian Kara Nakuto (Consultant, Former CO) (Sharon Miller)

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Posted by Lieutenant Commander Peter Sigmundsson (Chief Intelligence Officer) in The Heorot - the return of Kara Nakuto

Posted by Civilian Kara Nakuto (Consultant, Former CO) in The Heorot - the return of Kara Nakuto

Peter was silent for a few moments as he debated bringing up his theory on that particular matter. It didn’t take him long to decide “I don’t have any evidence supporting this but I think that there are many on this ship, far too many, who either have been, are or will be involved with Section 31. Most of the fleet isn’t aware of its existence, I know for a fact that my cousins I’ve told you about don’t know that it exists.” He scratched the back of his neck “The only reason I’m familiar is that they’ve tried to recruit me on three different occasions, beyond that I know hardly anything about them. But I’ve caught whispers on and around the ship.” This line of thought was extremely uncomfortable for him “I only know the group’s name because of my last out-of-uniform mission.”

CIO

The pair finally reached the mess hall, redesigned by Nakuto herself what felt like decades ago now. It brought her a certain degree of comfort, however, to see the walls of the Heorot still painted blood red, the standard federation seating still usurped by a singular, oaken banqueting table and at the head of the table - the throne. Her throne. Or…no, no longer hers but now belonging to another. Captain Ravenfall. The half-Klingon exhaled heavily.

Still, with loss of power came no responsibility and for Kara Nakuto that signified the dissipation of a previously crushing weight. Where once the lives of every man and woman on this vessel had been under her charge, now she held no more critical duties than to charge around the Heorot roaring battle cries and filling drinking glasses - a task she now attended to eagerly, leaping over the longship bar and rummaging through several crates for her prize - a dusty, unopened bottle of bloodwine.

Filling two tankards for herself and Peter, she regarded her friend from across the bar. His unease at voicing this subject aloud was palpable and Kara felt a slight wave of guilt for pressing the matter further. But she had no choice in the matter. What Peter knew, what he had experienced, could be vital to her understanding of the Viking and its curse.

Handing the Icelander a mug of the potent bloodwine, her voice adopted a more gentle and softer tone as she asked, “My friend, will you tell me? What did happen to you on that mission?”

  • Kara Nakuto (Consultant)

Peter accepted the drink with a curt nod and a tense smile. He had expected the question, most people did ask what got him such hot water over two years ago “I told you about my mission to destroy the Takra cartel and the loss that followed” Peter tried to wash away the bitter taste that was forming with the bloodwine, it only helped marginally. He looked around the great hall and allowed himself a slight chuckle “you know my ancestors used to swear blood-oaths, similar to what Klingons do.”

“I did not know that,” Kara replied, although any similarity to her own people only confirmed what she already knew about this man beside her - that he was indeed a noble warrior and one of the finest officers she had served with thus far.

He opened his right hand, showing a very small faded scar running across his palm unless pointed out it was mostly unnoticeable “Mostly great friends who shared a brotherly bond or foster brothers wishing to become closer. I made one with three of my cousins, we swore to always answer the call, to be there for one another and we have done so six times in the last thirty years since we made the oath. Well after Veronica I made the call.”

Nakuto glanced down at the displayed palm, recognising the scar from countless that decorated her own body, and had been about to reciprocate with a display of her own. But then he spoke the name - Veronica. Kara knew how painful it was for him to speak on this subject, so she lapsed into her own silence and refilled Peter’s glass in preparation for the things he was about to reveal…

Peter smiled as he thought to his cousins, the sons of his father’s Brothers. He had no siblings so Adam, Baldur, and Magnus were his brothers. “We met on Orion and made our way to Quo’nos, there we purchased a Civilian freighter and made our way deeper into the Empire. The remnants of the Cartel had fled there thinking themselves safe from Federation hands, they were smart enough not to pester the Klingons. I used my underworld contacts to find the right independent space station where the surviving members made their escape through. After some gentle persuasion, we managed to squeeze out a new location, rinse and repeat until 6 bases later we found where they made their last stand.”

Qo’nos. Did not all legendary battles take place amongst the red mountains of her own planet? Still, she was slightly surprised that the cartel had kept their mouths shut for long enough there to avoid any Klingon entanglements.

Another sip to lessen the bitterness “Well their last stand didn’t last very long after we were done they had been completely obliterated. We made our way back into Federation Space with the help of some stealthy friends and turned up on Risa where a crew of the Klingon bird of prey the IKS Chan’Dora was waiting as our alibi.” He turned the mug quietly in his hand for a moment “You have to understand that the four of us are experts in our respective fields, former soldiers and intelligence operatives that know how to cover our tracks, yet somehow Starfleet Intelligence had enough evidence to hold a private tribunal, I was being publically celebrated for my work so I was practically untouchable and all of us were decorated war veterans so they slapped our wrists in quiet and let us go.” The story was finally reaching its own point

A slap on the hand as reward for having sailed sufficiently high before one’s fall from grace. Kara knew the disgrace of a public celebration backed by private disciplinaries only too well.

“Afterwards I was approached by a man I knew as Commander Tzai, at three different times in my career he approached me with a small mission for Starfleet Intelligence and afterward tried to recruit me, each time I did the mission out of some patriotic duty and said no thank you, Special Ops was never my cup of tea. Then and there he explained to me who he really was and what Section 31 was, that I had worked for them those three times, the Takra operation had been engineered by them to run those criminals into Klingon space where they could be controlled more easily, that we had ruined plans years in the making during our mission. So now I owe them a favour.”

Peter

The half-Klingon settled back against the bar and drained her glass before refilling it to the brim.
“Commander Tzai,” she repeated the name, as if the act would usher with it all of the answers they sought. “So, you destroy their mission and in return they destroy your life? Our lives?”

Her thoughts were frantic and jumbled. It was becoming more difficult by the minute to make sense of anything.

“Peter,” she said finally, “is returning this favour the reason why you are here?” The reason you were assigned to this crew?”

  • Kara Nakuto (Consultant)

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