Had the idea for this one long ago...finally wrote it...
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Swag!The
Hiv'laposh's cargo bay was stuffed to the gills. La'ra surveyed the bounty with a smile.
"It's been a good day." He declared.
"Indeed." Ran'jar replied. The First stood beside his Commander.
Inside information had led the
Hiv'laposh to a Zakdorn smuggler who made his living sneaking Federation luxuries into Klingon space. The items themselves were legal; The Empire rarely saw fit to regulate pleasures and vices. Dodging the sky-high tariffs that restricted trade with the UFP...that was frowned upon.
"Took forever to get everything arranged." The cargomaster mumbled.
"And yet, you managed." Ran'jar snorted.
The cargo handler ignored the first in his usual manner. He was a warrant officer, around the same age as La'ra. His eyes betrayed intelligence and a total lack of guile.
"Yes, we did. I don't think the load will effect our acceleration too much, and I had some ideas I wanted to go over with the engineer about..."
"Anything interesting?" La'ra interrupted.
The cargo handler blinked. His ideas for efficient cargo management were many and varied, but opportunities to show off his treasures were rare.
“Oh yes.” He began, gesturing to various items like a tour guide. “Liquor from at least three different worlds...spices, though I haven’t identified most of them yet...even some furniture, though it’s a little ornate...and then there’s this thing...”
The loadmaster indicated a table. It clearly wasn’t meant to hold up plates, though, judging by the electronics that were an integral part of it.
“What is it?” Ran’jar asked.
“Some sort of game.” The cargomaster replied. “Look.”
The warrant officer opened a couple of panels, pulled out some cords. He attached the cords to his fingers. A hologram of some kind appeared above the center of the device; a gridlike playing field, with little armies of red and blue squares on either side.
La’ra watched as the blue army, obviously following the cargomaster’s direction, began to advance against the red. The red side responded, in usual gamelike fashion; quickly, but along standard lines.
Ran’jar grunted, stepped over to the machine. He slid the control interface onto his fingers.
Now facing another Klingon, the cargomaster’s brow furrowed in concentration. Blue’s advance was halted by a red counterstroke, which was in turn delayed by a valiant blue flanking assault. There was a certain random clumsiness to the action
“Do either of you have any idea what you’re doing?” La’ra asked.
“No...” declared Ran’jar. Red stood fast against the flanking assault, cut off blue’s retreat. The blue squares tried to consolidate on their side of the board and sweat beaded the cargo handler’s brow.
The First’s face twisted into an evil smile.
“...but I’m winning.”
End