"The Price of a Dagger"

[Guest TroNoQ]

Tro'NoQ sat backwards in his chair, the seat squeaking as he put more and more pressure against the thin springs inside. Medical never did get the good equipment. Take a chair like the one the Lagh was sitting in at the moment. It'd likely started in a good, senior staff conference room. After it started getting a little too shabby for that, got moved to Security. To Engineering, to the Science Labs ... and finally, one stop away from the intergalactic garbage refuse, it'd been moved to the MRF. Just peachy for the qels therein.

 

Fingers moving quickly over the console in front of him, he finished the data upload into the set of PADDs he had, stacked neatly on the polished countertop in front of him. Motioning to the younger Klingon behind him, he held out the one at the top of the pile.

 

"Read, memorize, and expect to be tested upon the material presented." Tro'NoQ glanced upwards at Daggerhead, smirking.

 

Daggerhead squinted at the Qel. "I did not have to take tests to operate the helm.”

 

The elder qel narrowed his eyes at the overgrown, towering, Klingon. "You don’t have to take tests to clean the tubes either. How important is that dagger sticking out of your thick skull to you?”

 

Daggerhead slapped the PADD up and down on his forearm as he considered the situation. Challenge this Ferengi’s blackmail and the status symbol would be surgically removed from his skull. No. No way. The dagger was by far the best scar on the entire ship. One did not give that up.

 

“Fine. I’ll take your tests.”

 

A characteristically toothy grin. "Very good, indeed. In which case, I suggest you begin your studies of the non-Klingon physiologies on the ship... there's quite a bit of information to absorb." Smirking, Tro'NoQ moved off towards the other end of the MRF, leaving his new assistant on his own.