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Join Date: Sep 2013
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General Gaardox MonG-DecH did not want to report for duty immediately after the immaculate victory. He had rested after the 'deck party' on bridge, so much reportage and communiques, kasqs of blood-wine had to be brought up to the bridge repeatedly, and the immediacy of the secondary crew was noted as they performed after the initial officer crew had won all battles, and they had been sworn the honor of this duty shift in sobriety while the officers before them had celebrated in their presence. In truth most of his senior officers were commanding on other house fleet vessels. Gaardox longed to communicate with family members, yet allies and friends must have had similar thoughts and they reveled as it was thier honor to do so.
This shift, first shift of the following day, no after party of course, which is humor from an earlier time in his career as a KDF officer. First shift would notoriously occur many weeks after certain victories as he recalled in his mind approaching the turbo-lift in my specialized Qu'Daj'Nej'Var battleship. This would be different, although Gaardox did spend an hour in communique with loved ones before the required rest period, an hour that was recorded and sent to family members, he only spoke in an ad hoc fashion to verify his survival and safety to his immediate family members and friends that he had closest ties with. Luckily his wife was who Gaardox had the directed recording with on a secure channel. Gaardox only could wish she was aboard, and yet, how could he, Gaardox had not slept for more than a few hours at a time in months. No this shift would be like yesterdays, with less fanfare, more pronounced diplomacy, more criticality, and too many actualized situation reports.
General Mongdech would be held accountable as a general for his deeds. First with the Chancellor for a debriefing, the actual most interesting and relieving communique, his office sent an encrypted message after the immaculate victory, however it was merely a hastily recorded proverbial protocol-nothing more. Gaardox was not planning to drag the Chancellor out of chambers, and as he was inundated with fleet communication at that time, in these situations he had found that he was usually fifth or sixth to be contacted by J'mPoc at 'First Shift.' Gaardox imagined he would be no less than third on this occasion.
Be that as it may, many dignitaries, generals, governors, house fleet admirals, chief trade representatives, and so on, you simply could not imagine, would inundate this day in his private quarters on this particular 'First Shift.'
"'Qu'Qapla ... Quue" The turbolift door slammed behind Mongdech, the general didn't know how he recognized the human, every officer in the detail bridge heard this stagnant greeting, not one officer so much as drew a blade. The Bridge of the 'BaQ MonGDecH' is usually quite vacuous. Kling do their duty and have not much noise to make upon most occasion if it is not celebratory in nature.
"HeH Dech Mong Qu-Qapla." How intriguing, this particular surprise had unique metaphysical properties that Gaardox could immediately attest to.
"Of course 'Q' is supposed to be much smarter than I," thought Gaardox. "I wouldn't choose to challenge this concept." Thnking again, Gaardox had not recognized his face from the Federation file, however, he had met previously.
"Oh yes, I have not yet returned to Khitomer, you?" 'Q' maintained a stance of witticism as was his custom.
"H'lija'Quuue'" Gaardox was beginning to prepare to use his diplomatic Terran language skills, the general's mind began reciting his consonant retinue.
Suddenly Gaardox HeH Het Mongdech was on a bridge of a ship that must not have been much larger than that of the 'Qul'DaQ,' on this particular deployment his second wife O'Wa'TaQ was on command duty of the House Fleet specialized Kamarag.
"It's called a 'Krynn.'" 'Q' murmured slowly, drawling the consonant thickly in Klingon. He was actually quite a handsome Klingon for a 'Q.' MongDech recalled a fantastic novella series he had read as a young cadet, the planet the heroes had saved had the same name as this model of ship.
"The Eureka moment, Quuue." Ew isn't much of a vowel or syllable in Klingon, more of an expression like "Er, um," or sometimes referent to numbers, such as 'an' or 'one.' It can be used to interject when making up unique compound verbs, or not to and explain plainly in painstaking formal or regal form, and sometimes slang. In the General's mind there was so much involved with the socio-dynamic metaphysics of this war that had not yet been addressed. Just in terms of revenge, the mind reeled at that in terms of Klingon philosophy, to say nothing of political science. This had been a very bloody civil war. There had been made so many new advantageous advances on record making prisoner taking battles. The first few weeks of battle were relatively bloodless, to speak least of all. It was not the first distinction that the Occupation Fleet had made for itself in this regard during this particular war, during the prior against the same foe, it had.
Suddenly 'Q' and General MongDech held blood wine and were surrounded by the VIP's that Mongdech was to contact, and they all held blood-wine, and still aboard this strange 'Krynn' vessel.
"QAPLA!" All aboard the 'Krynn' vessel had shouted while toasting before it was only an echo in an empty ship's bridge with one Klingon General MonG-DecH, and one very overdressed Klingon Q.
"You don't like my ceremonial uniform? Doesn't it strike you as opulent and indicative of my position in the Empire?"
"HeH-Hmm-Qu-'EW'." Mongdech replied crudely, not wanting his distaste to outdistance his sensibilities yet not wanting to show any support to the means of this endeavor.
"Hlja'vlegh Gaardox." 'Q' was yet patient. Mongdech decided to sip his blood-wine in rebuttal, slowly. Gaardox was yet patient actually. "There is little else to do I suppose. I told you on Khittomer that you needed to consider curbing your imagination. That did not hold much blood-wine with you apparently."
"Dalegh." The General had finished the wine and dropped the cup. He walked to 'Q' and took his cup, and drank it. 'Q' nodded. He finished and dropped that cup and just stood in front of him, in a deaf fashion.
He was gone in an instant and Mongdech was now surrounded by Klingons. Klingons with very refined features. Klingons with more than typical physical strength, Klingons who were apparently much more accustomed to being at least slightly more strong than the general, and were already quite well seasoned to be as such. There were even Klingon hybrids, Vulcan/Klingon, Romulan/Klingon, frighteningly enough, even Cardasian/Klingon, something he had only seen in images, and of course not a more refined future species. All of this was apparent to Gaardox, and like previously they encircled him with blood-wine in hand, aboard this 'Krynn' bridge and he as well. Sipping for the entirety, as he could ascertain, judging by the sparse simplicity of their armor, that Gaardox was among Klingons of the future. Perhaps they had a better immunity to the effects of this drink.
"He will torture us as long as there is a universe for him to do so in. We are at your service." Although these Klingons meant 'Q,' Mongdech had never heard a more common form of colloquial Klingon come out of any sentience's vocal chords.
"Daj. HA! 'be 'DaJ'Nej-Qot'VoM."
"Well indeed interesting, we may name the ship whatever you like for our service to you. For reasons that may seem obvious to you we are indeed at your service." Again, too polite to sound like an android, yet such perfect guttural infliction, and the inference was correct, or maybe a guess, Gaardox seemed to, or indeed had, 'caught Vom.' The fact that they seemed to maintain servitude to him must have been indicative of this yet Mongdech looked around at the bridge, sipping wine cautiously. He was in the same sector space, possibly the same location, or adjacent, yet no, he more than likely was no longer in the same century. He looked carefully at the group and walked in a circle, they were senior officers, most were of uniform age, near his or slightly younger, or older by no more than a few decades. It slowly dawned on him that that must have less meaning to them as their longevity would have more salience than his own. "We have had limited contact with Klingons from the 25th century, Lord Mong-Dech." Now this was disturbing.
He had been called many things, mostly Mongdech, formal, polite or informal slang depending on your point of view. The beauty of most of the 'MongDecH' affectation was that he usually made a universality obvious and completely capable of being intelligible in doing so again, whether it was tactics, intellectual prowess, or esoteric mannerisms that would prove somehow relevant or viable. A respected crass methodological approach that was usually completely orthodox in its adherence to chaotic experimentation, and his namesake was completely urban in an unrespectable consideration. He was getting somewhat too aged and villainous to make light of such reality, but what these Klingons must know of him now, he could think of it and attempt to at least humor them all.
"Always a good ice breaker Gaardox," 'Q's' voice omnipresent voice trailed off.
"I have never expected to command a field promotion as LORD." Gaardox finally said. It was sadly true. He usually had his father's sword at his side at all times now. He had maintained this war with co-command in House Fleet, Occupation Fleet, and elite alliance members of the Honor Guard who were linked politically to him via the High Council, as well as old friends from the earlier civil wars. Gaardox Mongdech conceded to the fact that at his age fewer had seen either so much civil war or war at all to be plainspoken.
Laughter, rebellious, unscrupulous and unbridled. It was a trans-dimensional, trans-decadal coronation. MongDech mused with some glorification. These officers likely had wondered why Gaardox would have allowed himself the title, or how he had come to abide as such to such a reality. He had found a curious way to steal it for himself.
"Don't get ahead of yourself." Again 'Q' spoke, however, Gaardox could conclude that only he could hear this now.
"We had followed your history, we are all professionals of this field of research, you must assume some generalizations." An old and particularly seasoned handsome Klingon-who-had-aged-well remarked, his uniform markings indicated he was in command. "We cannot tell you our names. It is not allowed." The temporal Klingon had remarked.
"Pagh wejvam." Now MongDech had named the commanding officer of the 'Daj'Nej-QoT-Vom,' things were making a sharp turn now. "We must inhibit Tholian surveillance of the most circumstantial battles from this civil war now that it has finally finished. Can you put a holographic astro-metric and holographic chart tactical computer from the 24th or 25th century here?" Later he would have nick names for the entire crew of fifty mirror universe temporal Klingons, Gaardox was a personable general.
All put their mugs or cups (if you will,) down in front of them, some taking sips, and all sprang into action. Monitor stations were Klingoned, discussion ensued on the most proper considerations on such actions. It was quite quixotic and terrifyingly dizzy'ing, indeed MongDech was very in glorified by all of this activity. Before he could find a state of embellishment, the computer console emerged and he began scanning charts, making notations and, as it so happened agreeing or disagreeing with a series of preset notations. He had to assume that some of it was the officers at work and others were already programmed into the computer.
"In this case how do I tell of the origin of the notation presets 'Pagh Wejvam?"
"You will not be able to." Gaardox found a way to supersede that theory by using assumptive reasoning and doing a comparative analysis predicating historical analysis design philosophy using current popular philosophical political science analogy from his time, and his analysis of that based on his initial conclusions as a younger officer in the 23rd century to make his conclusions. Naturally Gaardox had not known that longevity would make such scientific conclusion in his time, also facts and events would dictate his decision making to this regard at this particular event.
Gaardox was aboard the USS Pathfinder, somehow this was obvious to him. A younger Captain Picard had spoken to an Admiral on the view screen. They were somewhere in the Romulan Neutral zone, Theta Eridani, he believed.
Before Picard had spoken he bowed at the Admiral and put his hand on his chin before putting his hand to his side and looking up at the view screen again.
"No, Admiral, I need to try reasoning with these factions in my own way-" he went on apparently reasoning his own design philosophy in regards with a diplomacy in the Tau Dewa between the Klingons and the Romulans, with Federation intent.
"You see, you see what you are doing? You see what is being done?" 'Q' said.
Now MongDech was again on the 'Daj'Nej-Qot'Vom' monitoring the console, his mind set, he formulated the telemetry also using his own design philosophy to configure interface with the ship computer. He knew he was no longer in the presence of 'Q,' for now. The view screen now showed a tactical Tholian fleet in a monitoring formation, one that would circumvent detection as well as allow for the best sensor linkage monitoring amongst them.
"Attack now." As his sense of glory superseded any known expectation or familiarity he had ever known, he watched as what would be at the beginning of an even longer war than the previous civil war that he had just endured. He had barely been aware that the ship board computer's link up with the older monitor console system had actually been automatically linked up with astro-navigational service. He had only assumed as much and then, his conclusions still catching up to his reality, torpedoes that looked like pulsar radio waves and what looked like a series of purple lightening emitted from the 'Krynn' Temporal starship and decimated the Tholians. Gaardox sipped quietly at his blood-wine and made the next serial computations regarding the battle maps and charts, projections, and determinations. Battle after battle had ensued. The Tholians were shrewd to monitor the minor conflicts of this Klingon civil war, but it would serve them no glory.
Battle after battle, each Tholian fleet seemed more and more futile. The fifty hour mark had passed. Gaardox required rest. He was escorted by 'Pagh Wejvam,' to quarters, sparse, yet comfortable. He looked out his window and strangely as light flashed during battles, he would for some moments at a time see in ultra violet or even the gamma ray spectrum as the Klingon physical reaction to the divinations of astral combat must somehow correspond visually. He went to sleep.
Gaardox woke to the smell of fresh meat and blood-wine. He used the shower to refresh himself. His dreams, his wives showed him much less mercy than usual, it had been extremely gratifying, if not factual, yet not all would seem to be at complete odds with reality today. He would inquire of his wives of such dream activity when the timing was right. An optimist Gaardox ate everything on the table. He performed his morning calisthenics, and walked to the turbo lift, or whatever movement device it was. MongDech liked the guillaumes he had seen in his quarters, the alloy was not known to him, and the design intricacies had varied complexity. As he entered the turbo lift he had noticed that the noise of combat had ceased yet the armor plating had covered his quarters now, he was not to notice his whereabouts.
Looking in the on bridge view-screen he could only assume that they were deep in the Gamma Quadrant. Then it dawned on Gaardox, telemetry had now rationalized surveillance by the Founders?
"Section, quadrangle five six two mark nine hundred fifty three million, six hundred thousand..." This was indeed further than the computations of MongDech. Pagh Wejvam took off a wire frame head gear that had little volume or density. "Psychic interlink with the ship board computer, nothing more Lord Gaardox." Damn, he had forgotten that he was a 'Lord' now. "This is the fifth interaction we have had with this faction, their temporal ships are a bit harder to deal with, however, certain temporal holding combat patterns of the Tholians revealed some bi-lateral connectivity with the Borg in this sector, we ARE in the Gamma Sector, we assumed an inner-link by the Founders. We are close to a solution." Some kind of pulse wave hit the strange vessel that suddenly appeared at least twenty kilometers away, and the ship vanished. "An irregularity, the solution is match, at your station Lord Gaardox MonG-DecH." Gaardox preceded to do a bilateral equation using a logic to design itself a paradox which would determine which Borg fleet members were now too close to witnessing the said paradox, or had inadvertently done so in relation to the Klingon civil war activity. Yet despite the fact that this was not his quadrant, Gaardox was more at home in his own century. This time the Captain made the command.
"De-assimilate now, WE ARE KLINGON!" What seemed like centuries would now pass and very often Gaardox would go to his quarters, at sixty hour intervals, and he slept until he could no longer do so. He often waking up to the most garish and horrific battle fields in space that he had ever witnessed. To break up the monotony the crew would often dine together, and speak of their glory. Gaardox was not certain how he could be alive for so much longer, however he believed that some new technological advancement had slowed his aging process considerably. His memory also was very much improved. He remember everything that had happened on board the 'Daj'Nej-QoT'VoM,' although he often found it within himself to entirely forget 'Q.' Idle time was usually used creating stasis fields and secret transmissions describing the dangers of Borg, undetectable to Borg, yet somehow universal to all in these sectors. They often moved from one decade to another, yet this enemy was always Borg. Their evaluations of the Tholians and Founders had to be thwarted. Once in a great while they encountered another Temporal vessel, their first was Federation, and they compared notes, they were both on similar missions. Finally they were in Tal Shiar territory discretely removing Borg notification technologies, Gaardox was very excited by this process as they had spent centuries doing so by way of other species use of Borg technology.
The 'Krynn' vessel 'Daj'Nej-QoT'VoM' was a mirror-universe temporal ship. In their own universe these Klingons were minions of the Iconian Empire, an Empire that had grown to such power in the galaxy that the Borg were not used to defend it, or assimilate it, this is what had been the undoing of the Iconians in Gaardox's universe. The Borg were a technological mistake that had gone out of control, so much so that the fading Iconians in Gaardox Mongdech's universe had to rapidly cover their tracks or no trace of non-Borgified sentience could exist in the Galaxy. Upon finishing the last of the Romulan technological modifications they were forced to submit to a council review of the mirror universe Klingons by the mirror universe Iconians. A humiliating experience, these Klingons were no longer warriors in the eyes of these Iconians, and judging by appearances and behavior these Iconians were nothing like the Iconians from his universe. Yet in a strange way, the complexities of their reasoning indicated an unusual facilitation towards redundancy, one that was integrated into a political rhetoric which was as difficult to follow as it seemed to be unrewarding for the mirror-universe temporal Klingons. This paradox was further sustained by a casual acceptance towards what imminently seemed to be any acclamation of Gaardox's home dimension. While this was all fascinating, Gaardox MongDech could not configure any meaningful resemblance to this facilitation by the mirror-universe Iconians. Eventually it passed and they again headed into Gaardox's 'paradox of simplicity,' as one mirror-universe Iconian had mentioned referring to the General's home universe.
Back in his side of things this Temporal crew forged ahead and they finalized towards secretly tweaking shipboard computers of any breach of dimensional astro-physics that may have inadvertently been created by the paradox by the completion of the end of Gaardox?s recent Klingon civil-war. This was going to only take a few decades to complete, yet Gaardox was the least familiar with this kind of enlistment, and the temporal compliance it required. Mongdech exercised, ate, and dreamed much more than he ever had on this part of the temporal mission. His wives were more familiar to him than they had ever been, and the son-of Drex more often present with this dream family and the daughter of Mongdech, which had only happened irregularly before. Although he knew he and his wives wished that La'Tal would take this relationship very seriously, La'Tal seemed to understand the flimsy circumstances of this dream relationship and had simply decided to take it one step at a time. This new integrated consideration of the dream reality made his temporal duties more bearable. Although he always blushed when he looked first at his daughter's stomach and then her eyes, this was something that he had previously in this dream series had only held for his wives when his daughter was present, they had not been impregnated, he shouldn't expect his grandchild at this time either. It was sometimes difficult to hold onto realistic consideration during such events. Time would pass.
Now much later in the view screen was the battleship 'BaQ-MonG-DecH,' Gaardox, sighed heavily, "Please patch me through to my command structure." To great surprise to the Empire he took his meeting on bridge of the 'Daj'Nej-QoT-VoM.' He had to explain all circumstances, the appearance of a weird blood-wine ritual, a strange futuristic ship, his travels, and his mission, 'Q,' he had to tell of 'Q,' and his plans, which he had more than enough time to make considerations on. Factually also, although he kept it brief, he by now knew all too well the designations and designs of his command council, no decision was reached lightly. He would spend a year on Qo'Nos with his family and then together they would join Gaardox as he commanded the Krynn vessel, although Gaardox would never to use it in a physical temporal sense again, and when it was time for that, as it was agreed by the council meeting, during the 'First Shift' a now quite paradoxical and quixotic multi-present, multi-vector meeting, Pagh Wejvam and his crew would leave this time and space and he would take another year with his family until it was time once again for regular space governance, by way of a regular House Fleet deployment, a Fleet of which he was now Lord.
General Gaardox HeH Het MonG-DecH didn't mind this meeting, it was one step closer for him to his loved ones, no what he detested would be the following meeting with J'mPoc where he would describe to the Chancellor in great detail what the Klingon 'Q,' looks like, and that in fact the sentient anomaly was in fact an ally. Repetition was one thing, he would have to tell the same tale to the Chancellor, almost exactly, to speak of 'Q,' as a Klingon, he hoped the Chancellor had heard the tale from his council meeting members first. He would earn his right to replace his father's bat'lith upon the family mantle of his house.

Last edited by allen1973; 10-16-2013 at 11:15 PM.