Winston Chronicles: Qob/Tranquility Universe

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2420

Tranquility City, Unspeakable District-Klingon Quarter

The Guardian intending to enter the Klingon tavern named The Bat`leth was instantly stopped at the doors by two larger-than-average Klingons wearing outfits which resembled those of the Klingon military. But this tavern was not on a Klingon controlled world, it was Tranquility City, and in the Unspeakable District, of all places.

“Your kind are not welcome here,” spoke the over-sized Klingon on the left, his a tone of disgust a clear reference to the Guardian uniform. His partner was on a COMM unit requesting instructions. A meant-to-be-seen security camera was instantly focused on the Guardian, who was big for a human and fighting a battle of the “bulge.” The human was smoked a cigar, something else the two Klingon guards did not care for.

The bold Guardian carried a Klingon disruptor in his holster. That holster completed the look of the individual who was clearly out of his element, deep in the Klingon Quarter of the District.

Despite his locale he simply folded his arms in front of the two large Klingons and puffed away at the disgusting wad of dried plants the Klingons knew humans had an attraction for. He clearly had courage showing up on his own... perhaps insanity was a better word.

The Klingon with the Comm unit flashed a look of surprise and instructed his partner to allow the Guardian into the establishment. This was out of the norm. The Guardian, who simply sported a jacket, badge, and weapon along with standard issue trousers, someone in the Guardian organization the owner knew. In fact when the Klingon guard informed his superior about the Guardian’s holstered disruptor, it wasn’t an issue at all. The owner on the COMM link, whose voice was past the point of being loud, stated the Guardian be allowed entrance immediately.

Guardian Sheriff Albert “Big Al” Knorr nodded in respect to the two Klingons whom he knew were simply doing their job. Sheriff Knorr’s job was to assist and inform the Klingon owner of events he knew about. He didn’t consider himself a spy, but a man of action working for the common good of all in the Unspeakable District and beyond.

Upon entry he was instantly greeted by snarls and insults from the Klingon patrons of tavern known as the Bat`leth. Inside the establishment smelled of Klingon cuisine and other things the nose of the sheriff could not identify. The large bar featured a huge bat`leth shaped icon behind it, “stained” in blood. The bartenders kept to their own business, serving large mugs of bloodwine and plates of Klingon cuisine to their customers.

Suddenly the bar became quieter as a Klingon with one arm noticeably missing amicably greeted the Guardian and displayed his fangs to those who objecting the Human’s presence. The facial display had the intended result. Next, the Klingon turned to his visitor.

“Greetings Al Knorr. I was not expecting you. Why could this matter not wait until after hours?” the Klingon in charge of more than just the local tavern asked.

Sheriff Knorr took the cigar out of his mouth and stated the obvious to his friend Vosh’rok. “This couldn’t wait my friend. We need to discuss options.”

“Of course, Al Knorr,” Vosh`rok replied as two even more formidable Klingons with bat`leths and other weapons arrived, flanking the maimed Klingon. “To my secure suite immediately then.”

With that, the odd assemblage immediately headed for a back room behind the bar and the chatter and bloodwine resumed flowing throughout the tavern.