Shelev the Many-Coloured
Posted on February 4th, 2008 by Tharr Shelev and Kathryn Harper

Tharr Shelev and Kathryn Harper

“WHAT DID YOU DO?” demanded acting XO Harper as she strolled onto the bridge. “I am taking a shower, I get out, and there is a Klingon bird-of-prey outside the window taking pictures!”

Shelev ignored the ranting woman and tried to put the idea of a nude pink-skin out of his mind. “Yellow alert,” he ordered, right before the hail came in.

“This system is under the jurisdiction of the Restored Klingon Empire!”

“No it isn’t,” said Shelev. “Khitomer would like a word with you.”

“The house of Duras does not recognize Khitomer!” The Klingon commander seemed so pleased at his association with the largest pain in the ass the Klingon race had ever known.

“Duras!” Shelev stifled a giggle. “And I suppose you’re claiming to be heir to the throne again.”

“We do not recognize that throne! The restored Empire will rule from the Expanse, plucked from the hands of the Federation which has no right to it.”

Shelev cut the comm off with the familiar guillotine gesture. “Red alert, battle stations. Harper, send a message to Admiral Zuriyev. Report an incursion into Expanse by the House of Duras. Make DAMN SURE he knows they’re not claiming to represent the Imperial Empire. They’re trying to start a civil war, and we are not going to let them.”

Ensign Logan spoke up from science. “Sir, they’re beaming landing parties down.”

“And we have an unprovoked act of war.” Shelev pushed up his glasses and mentally threw the diplomatic nonsense out the window. No room to worry about what he’s supposed to do – there are three ships with weapons outside and he’s got an away team to protect. “Get them back on screen.”

The Klingon commander appeared on screen, bathed in red and buoyed by his bridge staff singing war anthems.

“Recall your troops and leave the expanse or you will be fired upon.”

A guttural laugh. “Perhaps I should end you first?”

“Three birds-of-prey versus a Sovereign. I’m giving you the offer to leave before I throw you the hell out of here and keep whoever you’ve already beamed down as a gift to the locals!”

“Your ‘offer’ is rejected. We do not bow to the Vulcan’s inferior sisters!” The screen went blank.

“Right. Scramble fighters.” If Andorians could be red, Shelev would. “Tactical, run out the torpedoes. I want their engines off in six shots. I’m going to deliver them on a silver platter to whomever winds up running the Empire because it sure as hell isn’t going to be them.”

“Take things personally much?” smirked Harper.

“You have your orders. No mountain-headed brute gets to call me green.”