Fierce Critters"
By: Qtor , Klingon honour guard , [NPC]
Samantha Carter, Security Officer, [RNPC]

Stardate: 58207.08 1630

Location Qultuq, Quark’s, holosuite 1/

They who have fierce enemies invent fierce legends. One of those came at Q’tor through an opal haze, an ogre out of the cruellest story of defeat, and the monster’s noise was a terrible noise. Blow upon blow ran on Q’tor’s bones, his weapon flashing to petty avail, his body aching and his grace of form completely botched.

The monster’s face was compounded in its ugliness by the hologram computer’s twisted idea of the bizarre, angles of olive light and mouldings of flesh that only a machine could invent. Tell a computer to picture a real animal and it would ado a prime job. Tell it to conjure a legend, and it went inane.

He fought and fought, and no matter how he panted or stumbled, the computer refused to turn off. He had it set on its maximum, only to find that its computer, unlike the tame beasts on the Nightingale had been programmed to give a “customer” what he actually said he wanted. The star ship had known better.

Quark did not.

As so with roar after spit after howl of the ogre’s raw throat and poison breath, Q’tor was being beating back.

“You shouldn’t drop your left arm like that.”

The voice came out of the Quarter grey fog, and there in the dripping jungle stood the outline of that voice, a young slender woman, standing against the now closing exit from the holosuite.

Momentarily distracted, Q’tor heard the swish of the ogre’s attack, and only narrowly skated out of the way.

“I do not recall,” he panted, asking for your advice

“Just trying to help.”

Inspired now that he had an audience Q’tor launched into a torrent of dodges and hits, basting the monster in the face, throttling it when its shoulder dipped, and finally knocking its bleeding legs out from under it. The creature staggered, crumpled, and finally dematerialized.

“So,” Sam said, “how’d you like the program?”

“I found it adequate,” Q’tor lied, hiding his heavy breathing as much as he could. “Though I was surprised to find a Klingon exercise program in this holosuite.”

“It’s mine, she told him with a touch of swagger as she approached.”

“You mean Quarks.”

“No, I mean mine. Computer, bat’leth.”

Q’tor’s weapon was stuck in the ground a few feet to his side. Now another bat’leth appeared beside it, replicated to solidity by the fabulous technology around them.

“I though you might be tired of fighting programs,” Sam said.

Straightening with some effort, Q’tor declined. “It would not be a fair match.”

She smiled. “I’ll go easy on you.”

He knew his was the superior strength, heavy of body and possessing raw power, and that would serve, but he wasn’t so foolish that he didn’t note her lightness of body and agility.

“Very well,” he decided. “Defend yourself.”