Lt. Commander Doz Finch - In Love and Benamite
Doz Finch
((QIn’Hud Mines, veHrom’nagh))
From the H'thamtuhko Bathhouse, to a hideout drenched in hammering rain, to the Qln’Hud Mines, the four of them had gathered evidence, followed their instincts, all to arrive at a crystalline grotto of sublime periwinkle wonder. A benamite jackpot, and the place where Ruktah and J’nara, the two heirs, had stowed away. Here, the truth was revealed…and a hot, steaming cup of tea was at last in sight.
J’nara: He designed it. He was also supposed to remove any traces we left behind, such as records, and any camera footage. I can only assume that in his last minute cowardice, he did not.
Finch: Actually, love, he did change some of the camera footage. But it was a bit half-hearted, like his attempts at hiding the necklace and the relay components.
Ensign Basso looked over towards Doz, and Gnaxac nodded, raising a thick eyebrow. Evidently, the puzzle pieces were slotting together, defining Gankech’s actions and his apparent lack of conviction towards the end. A private honour debt that would remain between him and the heirs—and had he succeeded? Well, dear, it wasn’t really for her to decide.
Basso: That answers Gankech's behavior.
Gnaxac: Looks like you p-p-picked the wrong accomplice.
Basso: I can’t be the judge of your actions, but it seems Gankech’s reckless behavior was not your responsibility.
Gnaxac: He’ll have to answer f-f-f-for it himself.
Doz wasn’t entirely sure she agreed with the Bajoran’s statement, knowing that J’nara and Ruktah had employed Gankech, and that there were likely more unknowns to their story. But Gankech was his own person, capable of making his own choices, that much was true, and he would indeed answer for it. Reaching into her backpack, Basso pulled out J’nara’s broken necklace and handed it over to the woman.
Basso: It is their necklace. I’m not going to pretend to be an expert in Klingon law and culture, but I don’t see any crime here.
Gnaxac: Me n-n-neither.
J’nara accepted the necklace, simply nodding, her expression stoic. She looked at the necklace as it rolled through her fingers, coruscating under the amethyst rays of the grotto, her thumb covering the emblem of her house.
Gnaxac: B-b-but I have to ask; what were you t-t-trying to achieve?
J’nara: My House, Qup’Dev, has become entangled with Qln’Hud. Locked in a ruthless contest for dominance in this treacherous political minefield of benamite. My house seeks to destabilise their operations, to destroy their success. Because of this, Ruktah and I cannot be together in this place. We must leave.
Ruktah: We will be together, bangwIj!¹
Doz sharply pulled air into her nostrils, then exhaled slowly, conflicted; two families vying for power on a Klingon colony world, and two doting lovers caught in the crossfire. She knew damn well how unforgiving Klingons were in matters of honour, but also how hypocritical they could be in deciding how they framed it.
Why couldn’t they just bloody talk?
A silly thought. She’d served on the Taggagh for long enough to know how Klingons worked. Few could say they had that experience. You needed thick skin just to survive the fires of their sheer ridiculousness.
Finch: All I instinctively want to do is shake the pair of you. To tell you to go and speak to your houses! Tell them what you want most, and why you’re going to have it. But something tells me it would fall on deaf ears.
Ruktah growled, looking enraged—she’d hit a nerve. J’nara, like a balm, approached Ruktah and held his muscular arm.
J’nara: Lieutenant Commander Finch speaks from the heart, Ruktah. ::She turned to the trio again, voice still as regal as velvet.:: The landscape of power is shifting, in veHrom’nagh. There are those who look to us both with beady eyes, eager to see what we do next. It is surely for this reason Governor Marg himself brought you here.
Gnaxac: Response
The older human looked towards Gnaxac, and Basso, with a thoughtful expression. The diplomatic solution would have been to dissuade the heirs from their not so secretive escape, and to bring the houses together, but that wasn’t their role there in the colony. Their objective had been far simpler. To find the heirs, which they had done, one string of evidence, and event, at a time. So it begged the question of what came next? What could they do?
She squinted at Ruktah’s bleeding arm, and took a step forward.
Finch: Ruktah, J’nara—come with us to the Gorkon. Do me that honour, won’t you? So that we can properly treat you. Have our doctors and nurses look you over, ::she gestured to Ruktah’s arm,:: make sure there aren’t any other…perhaps hidden injuries.
The heirs paused, looking down at Doz with strange expressions as if she were a pet that had somehow acquired speech.
Ruktah: How can we trust you?
Gnaxac: Response
It was a fine offer, and it was also all they had. It wasn’t asylum, it wasn’t any sort of arrangement or agreement, it was simply an olive branch. Whilst Ruktah’s injury was visible, she couldn’t know for certain if the heirs didn't have other injuries, within their bodies, in their neural patterns. She wasn’t a doctor, goodness gracious thank god she wasn’t, but she didn’t play around with disrupted transports.
The summits of her cheeks turned rosy as she smiled to the two team members with her, before giving one final nod to the heirs.
Finch: That’s all we ask. Come with us to get patched up, and the rest we can figure out later.
J'nara took one last look at the crystals around her, then nodded.
J’nara: Very well.
Gnaxac: Response
fin
¹ Klingon: My Beloved