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There seems to be a lot of excitement around this year’s Klingon Recruitment Event, and that may extend beyond the KDF and include future recruitment. Anyone so inclined can post their new recruits’ portraits, backstories, and ship builds here. See ya ’round the galaxy!
aka @robbiewan
aka VulcanMindMeldD’Esrae Tendi
Stardate 86533.7, Tiqchirgh Sector, Beta Quadrant
D’Esrae was a pirate, from a long line of pirates that plied the space trade lanes ambushing freighters and kidnapping dignitaries for ransom. Her mother, N’eymi Tendi, captained the Orion ship Emerald Angler and was clearly in love with her life. D’Esrae not so much.
It wasn’t awful, and her mother picked targets that were poorly guarded and unarmed (or mostly so). Though they’d lose a crew member from time to time during raids, it was rare. The hauls tended to be small, too, but that kept the risk low – both the risk of encountering heavy resistance, and the risk of retaliation after the fact. It was enough to make a living and keep the ship in the sky, and not much more.
And that was that problem.
D’Esrae wanted action. She wanted adventure. She wanted thrill-a-minute, the-next-raid-could-be-her-last, glory and honor and…well, infamy. Worse, she knew she wasn’t learning the skills she’d need to achieve any of that on her mother’s milk run raiding parties. So she left.
Where does an Orion girl go to learn to rip out throats and dismember her trembling foes? To pump an entire bay’s worth of photon torpedoes right up a dreadnought’s impulse manifolds? The Klingon Defense Force, of course. D’Esrae enrolled in the Klingon Academy and was accepted before she uttered a word of it to her mother. When she finally worked up the courage to break the news to her captain, the reaction was not what she’d expected.
“D’Esrae, that’s WONDERFUL!” her mother gushed, “That stuck-up Mistress of the Winter Constellations cousin of yours has been lavished with far too much attention of late. Joining Starfleet,” at which point, she turned her head and spat, “and becoming a scientist.”
“You’re not angry?” D’Esrae asked, flabbergasted. She’d even stashed an environment suit inside the airlock closest to her mother’s cabin just in case.
“Angry? Dread Gods, no! Please tell me you enrolled as a tactical officer and not a damned engineer or science officer.”
“Yes mother,” D’Esrae replied, “I want to learn to fight and win honor in battle!”
N’eymi actually clapped, “Oh, I am going to ram this down my bitch sister’s throat at the next Reunion Feast! MY daughter is Dahar Master Mistress of Annihilation! Put that in your chuus’PaH and smoke it!”
“I doubt I’ll rise to the level of Dahar Master by next autumntide, mother,” D’Esrae said timidly.
“Oh fine. General. Whatever. When do you leave?”
“I was going to request a shuttle ride after the raid on the Argelius Trade Corridor at the end of the week.”
“Nonsense!” N’eymi shouted, standing abruptly, “Qo’noS is just a day’s diversion on the way to the trade route. I’ll drop you off at the Academy myself. I’ll order the course correction immediately and we should have you there by Thursday.”
And so started D’Esrae Tendi’s career in the Klingon Defense Force.
Stardate 233869.1, The Battle of Procyon V
“Impulse offline, singularity offline, sir. Containment holding at 64%,” the engineering officer, Major Amius, announced.
“Shields?” asked Commander Arcturo, captain of the R.R.W. Praemun.
“47…” the ship rocked with explosive percussion, “…make that 44 percent.”
“We can’t take much more of this,” Arcturo said to no one in particular. “Launch the remainder of the reserve fighters and put out a call to Alliance forces for engineering support. Shut down the energy distribution emitters and reroute auxiliary power to shields.”
“As you command,” the engineer, flight deck officer, and tactical officer said almost in unison.
“Hail from Rear Admiral McIntyre, Commander,” the comms officer informed Arcturo.
“On screen.”
A viewscreen full of phaser, plasma, and disruptor fire – as well as more exotic energy weapons fire – and explosions, weaponized anomalies, and vented gases – was suddenly replaced with the close-up image of a Starfleet admiral with long, wavy white hair and a handlebar mustache. Arcturo wondered briefly if he was human or some close, human-adjacent race. “Commander,” the admiral said, getting right to business, “your ship looks like a bad carving of a bird from a block of Swiss cheese. I saw your request for assistance, but all vessels are fully engaged. Can you hang on while I try to…”
A massive explosion rocked the admiral’s ship, its internal lighting going black before coming back up noticeably dimmer than before. “…Damn!” McIntyre exclaimed, “Can you hold on while I try to free up some resources?”
As if on cue, Arcturo’s engineering officer said, “The chief engineer reports singularity containment below 20%!”
Everyone who heard that knew what it meant. Republic protocol was that if containment dropped below 15%, the ship was to be abandoned and all remaining power be allocated to singularity containment for later recovery, if possible. To continue to operate a ship with less than 15% containment meant they would all likely die, and soon.
“Very well, major,” the Commander said. To Admiral McIntyre, he said, “Never mind, admiral. Take care of yourself. The Praemun will be abandoned per protocol. Please assign someone – anyone – to be prepared to receive evacuees.”
“Commander,” the admiral said, concern plain on his face, “you have over two thousand crew aboard that vessel. I’m not sure we’ll be able to evacuate you in time.”
“We train for this, Admiral McIntyre,” Arcturo responded. “Those that can beam away will do so. Others will take what shuttles and frigates we have available on the flight deck, and the rest will use the escape pods. We’ll manage.”
“Very well,” McIntyre said, “I’ll have captains report to you directly when they’re able to assist with beam-outs. Good luck; McIntyre out.”
The next several minutes were chaotic. Some of his crew – too many – were lost in torpedo impacts and hull breaches, but most made it off the ship. Commander Arcturo and a skeleton crew of engineers prepared to divert all power to singularity containment, but at the last moment, Arcturo had a different idea. He would take one last shot with his ship’s gravitic lance, a massive lance weapon running the full length of the colossal ship. He ordered the energy shunt to be routed into the weapon, rather than containment.
There were objections, but the commander’s resolve ultimately convinced his people. After setting up the automation to shunt the energy and fire the weapon to his command chair, they took the last remaining escape pod. Arcturo slowly lined up a shot that would engulf as many Vorgon and Sphere Builder ships as possible in the blast of radiation. They were ignoring him now, obviously having intuited that the Praemun was shuddering out its last breaths. They didn’t even evade.
Arcturo initiated the power shunt – routing all power, including life support and singularity containment – into the gravitic lance and fired. There was a blinding flash of purple-white light, and then…darkness. He never even saw whether he’d hit anything.
Stardate 87250.2, Orion Sector, Beta Quadrant
She was at the Tendi family estate on Orion. A huge feast was being held, ostensibly for the Family Reunion Gala, but really her cousin D’Vana had just done some nerdy thing for the Federation and everyone was abuzz. D’Esrae toyed with her food, feeling depressed and not doing much to hide the fact. Being forced to wear the traditional steel bikini and loincloth that passed as ceremonial dress on Orion was not improving her mood. The damned thing chafed.
“Mother, I’m a Dread-Gods-Damned Lieutenant General in the Klingon Defense Force! Why am I wearing this ridiculous, exploitative metal bikini instead of my dress uniform?”
“Because, dear,” her mother replied with infuriating calmness around a mouthful of food, “you are a Tendi, and must present yourself as the aristocrat you are. Besides,” she winked, “you have a lovely figure. The bkar-tur looks wonderful on you. Maybe a male or three will take an interest.”
D’Esrae rolled her eyes, throwing her fork on the plate and giving up on the meal, “Mother, you can be SO provincial. I have an entire starship crew at my beck and call. I don’t need a harem of men to fawn over me.”
“Nonsense, girl,” her mother said, clearly not listening to her daughter, “everyone needs a handful of men.”
“And why doesn’t the Mistress of the Winter Constellations have to wear this outdated and extremely immodest ‘ceremonial’ outfit? Hmmm? She’s over there in her Starfleet uniform!”
N’eymi Tendi, captain of the least feared pirate ship in the Beta Quadrant, did what she always did when presented with facts she didn’t want to deal with: she changed the subject. “How is that Blackguard-class carrier I gave you working out? What did you name it? The Bad Beagle?”
“Blood Eagle, Mom,” D’Esrae said, her tone dripping with contempt. “It’s fine. The Klingons and Gorn complain about its layout, but it gets the job done. I was offered a Vo’Quv-class carrier – the koS’ta – but I turned it down.”
“Vo’Quv is a big boat, hun,” N’eymi replied with a raised eyebrow, “why turn it down? Bigger boat means more hull, more power, more shields, more…well, everything.” She pointed at D’Esrae with her fork, using a stabbing motion, “More survivability. You can’t advance through the ranks if you’re dead.”
“Bigger also means slower and harder to turn. I like the Eagle. She’s no escort, but she can maneuver around a battlefield.” D’Esrae shrugged. “She gets the job done,” she said.
“Mmm hmmm,” her mother acknowledged without actually agreeing, “Bigger is better, though.”
Exasperated, bored, feeling like a clown in her costume, and generally done with the whole affair, D’Esrae excused herself to return to her quarters. She’d be back in space come morning and could put this whole family reunion thing behind her. Maybe one day she’d take command of a larger vessel – the Orion ship her mother had “given” her had strings attached that she really didn’t like – but for now she was content. Unless the High Command offered her one of those D7 battlecruisers refit for carrier duty. There was something about the D7 that just screamed GLORY IN BATTLE.
But no, she was probably stuck in her mother’s ship for the rest of her career.
Stardate 87253.8, Vulcan Sector, Beta Quadrant
“Sensors,” Captain Gurok of the Klingon Defense Force barked gruffly, “visual just showed a bright flash ahead. What was it?”
I.K.S. ch’RoH was patrolling near the Sol system – had been patrolling as part of a joint Alliance effort ever since the Iconian war and the enemy assault on Earth. They’d been out here for months, and it felt…uncomfortable…to Gurok, spending so much time in Federation space. He’d fought against the Federation in a time that did not feel so very long ago. But his superiors alongside Klingon diplomats had forged an alliance with Starfleet that included mutual defense, and so here he was, on patrol in what might be the least dangerous sector in the entire quadrant.
“Some sort of chroniton burst, captain,” the sensor officer reported, “near the Andoria system. It was massive – I’ve never seen so great a discharge of temporal energy.”
“Shall I set a course to investigate, captain?” the helmsman inquired. Gurok growled. The junior officer at the helm was too full of himself and would need to be taught a lesson.
For now, though, more pressing matters were at hand. This chroniton burst wasn’t likely Iconian – they could not travel through time, or so the scientists told him. Borg, perhaps? They’d been known to manipulate time before. Perhaps some future Borg queen decided an Alliance weakened by war with the Iconians would be ripe for the picking. “Yes, helm,” Gurok replied, adding, “but wait for my order in the future. You are not the captain of this vessel.”
“Yes, captain,” the helm officer replied without inflection. Yes, this one needed breaking.
As the Negh’Tev-class vessel approached the world known as Procyon, the sensor officer reported, “It appears to be a ship, sir. Massive. Romulan in origin though it doesn’t match any configuration in our database. Ghuy’ that ship is enormous! More a small space station than a ship, but it seems to have impulse engines, a singularity drive, and weapons. All offline.”
“Sir, we are receiving a distress signal,” the comms officer, a fine, stout Klingon woman named Burell said.
“On screen,” the captain replied, curious.
The image was grainy and dark. What little light was available showed the silhouette of a Romulan man. The voice, when it came, was overmodulated and difficult to understand. “Klingon vessel,” the man said, “I am Commander Arcturo of the R.R.W. Praemun. I was disabled in battle at Procyon V and am in need of your assistance. I have only a single cell of our emergency battery to power short-range sensors and communications, but it is depleting quickly. I do not have functional life support. Please help.”
“I am not aware of any conflict on or near Procyon V and our sensors do not detect any signs of energy discharge or battle,” the captain said with a scowl, “I do not know why you lie to me Romulan, but your ship is clearly disabled and you are at my mercy.”
“The evidence of battle is right in front of you,” the Romulan captain spat. “Nevertheless,” he continued, calming his demeanor through force of will, “you are correct. I am alone on this ship, without power and without a crew. I could not fight you if I wanted to, which I do not. As an officer of the Romulan Republic, I formally request assistance from the Klingon Empire. Return me and my ship to my people in accordance with Alliance protocols.”
So, Gurok thought, the Republic and not the Star Empire. That is good, if true. And the Romulan was correct – Alliance protocols did require that he provide assistance. Still, that massive ship was unlike anything he’d seen before and, if scans were accurate, possessed very advanced technology as well. Perhaps if he presented it to Klingon Intelligence, they could study it before turning it over to the Romulans. It was too great an opportunity to pass up.
“Very well, Captain Arcturus. It is a long journey as I am uncertain how fast we will be able to travel with that behemoth of yours under tow, but I will consult my engineers. Prepare to beam to our medical bay and we will get underway as soon as we are able.”
Stardate 87601.9, Qo’noS Sector, Beta Quadrant
“…from over a century in the future,” K’men was saying, “and our scans indicate the Romulan is, in fact, temporally displaced. Curious we’ve had no visits from temporal operatives before now.”
“Curious, indeed,” D’Esrae agreed, bored. She’d been called inexplicably back to Qo’noS after some very bizarre time travel experiences of her own, alongside a Federation temporal operative named Daniels. Perhaps that was why she was here, but she’d been given an assignment by Klingon High Command to travel to an unexplored system in the Alpha Quadrant whose sun was mysteriously dying and she wanted to get underway. D’Esrae had been born in space, was raised in space, and space was where she felt most comfortable – most in control. Sitting at a conference table on Qo’noS was not at all where she was at her best.
The viewscreen at the head of the table shifted as K’men continued and a stir rustled the gathered officers. D’Esrae decided she should start paying better attention. On the screen was a ship – a Romulan ship – shaped, as most Romulan ships were, like a great bird with curved, forward-swept wings. Pretty thing that D’Esrae would have dismissed as “just another Romulan warbird” if the image hadn’t had a Bortas-class battlecruiser alongside the Romulan ship for comparison. The Romulan ship was huge.
“This,” K’men explained, “is a Valkis-class Romulan heavy dreadnought. According to its former captain, it was – or rather, will be – designed alongside an equally large Federation vessel known as the Universe, and a Klingon vessel dubbed the Durgath. These were ships specifically designed as mobile starbases and forward battlestations. They are capable of launching light craft and frigates, and sport a devastating lance weapon. Engineers and scientists in Klingon Intelligence, under my direction, managed to get the ship repaired enough to power up. The information in its onboard computers helped us repair the rest.
“Access to these computer systems has advanced our development of ship systems and weapons by decades. The Romulan Republic, of course, wants the ship back. The chancellor is resisting, working back with the Alliance to allow the ship to remain under Klingon control. He has decided that his argument would be bolstered by having a captain and crew assigned to the newly-repaired ship, and to place it into service.
“That honor, General Tendi, falls to you.”
D’Esrae sat bolt upright at that. “Me sir?”
“Yes,” K’men affirmed, “you. You have commanded an Orion carrier for some time and have done so with honor and great success. You understand flight deck operations and your crew respects and trusts you. The files – highly classified files, I might add – regarding the capabilities and operational procedures of this vessel have been sent to you. I want you to pay particular attention to information regarding the ship’s singularity drive, as I’m certain you have never been responsible for a Romulan star drive before. We will assign several Romulan Republic officers loyal to the Empire to your crew complement, including the ship’s original captain, Commander Arcturo.
“While you are welcome to keep the Romulan-given name, Praemun, for the ship,” K’men added, “you also have an opportunity to rename it.”
D’Esrae grinned. “Sot’tlhogh,” she said without hesitation, “the Mistress of Annihilation.”
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aka @robbiewan
aka VulcanMindMeldJenau Tazir AKA Captain Angel Tazir, a female Trill who was once a member of the Trill Symbiosis Commission, responsible for the care and selection of symbionts for Trill hosts. This is the story of her life in the depths of space, leading a life of excitement, and danger.
Captain Angel Tazir’s motivation stems from a deep-seated desire for freedom and adventure. Growing up on the Trill homeworld, she always felt confined by the strict rules and traditions of her society. She longed for a life of excitement and danger, and this led her to make a drastic decision. While she is known for being a Bounty Hunter, Pirate, and occasional mercenary she has made it a point to avoid any contracts that may bring her and her crew to close to Federation space, she is also known for her almost seemingly super like ability to avoid capture and ambushes from the Federation.
Jenau was chosen to become a host for a symbiont at a young age, but she was never fully satisfied with the symbiosis. When she was young, Jenau was fascinated by the Stories of famous Pirates of Earth’s early days of sail and many of the Famous Pirates that the Federation had dealt with in its early days. She felt like she was living someone else’s life and wanted to break free from the expectations placed on her.
One day, she made the impulsive decision to steal her symbiont (known as Tazir) and flee the Trill homeworld. After escaping with the help of her close friend – Mavo and Orion free trader, she would change her name to Angel Tazir, after one her favorite historical persons.
Captain Angel Tazir’s relationship with her symbiont is complicated. While she cherishes the knowledge and experiences it brings, she also resents it for being a constant reminder of the life she left behind.However, as time goes on, she starts to appreciate the symbiont and the bond they share. Outside of this bond, the next closest is that with her second in command the Orion Mavo, this has become so extremely close over the years the two have become lovers.
Becoming a bounty hunter for the Klingon Empire and occasionally working as a pirate forces Captain Angel Tazir to adapt and change. She learns to survive in dangerous situations and becomes skilled in combat and negotiation. She also gains a new perspective on life and learns to appreciate the diversity of cultures and societies in the galaxy.Captain Angel Tazir’s journey also brings her closer to her symbiont, as they face challenges together and learn to trust each other. She starts to understand the value of her symbiont and how it can help her achieve her goals. As far as the symbiont itself – Tazir does not outwardly seem to mind (or at least show any signs) this strange bonding an how it came about, at least from various reports in the Federation.
However, Captain Angel Tazir’s biggest growth comes from her relationship with the Klingon Empire. Initially, she sees them as nothing more than ruthless conquerors, but as she interacts with them more and learns about their culture, she starts to see their honorable and loyal side. This leads her to question her own prejudices and opens her up to new alliances and friendships.
Ultimately, Captain Angel Tazir’s decision to steal her symbiont and leave her old life behind leads her on a journey of self-discovery and growth. She becomes a strong and independent woman, no longer confined by the expectations of her society. And though she may still be a bounty hunter and pirate, she has found a new family and purpose in the vastness of the galaxy.aka @sgtken60 "AKA Grumpy Old Klingon/Andorian
Born into the household of a high ranking Gul in Lakarian City Ishe’s early life was a cultured introduction to Cardaassian high society and the glory of the state from a young age it was intended that she was to be married off to the son of another Gul to further the political ambitions of both of the families however Ishe had other ideas.
She found she had a talent for ferreting out information and secrets and quickly established that she had no intention of just becoming a political pawn for her father.
Despite his high-ranking status Gul Kazic was just as corrupt as many of the other high ranking military and as her impending wedding got ever closer Ishe saw an opportunity to solve all her problems. In a truly cold blooded act she informed on her entire family to the Obsidian Order, providing all of the evidence of her fathers corruption that she had gathered over the years, and where that evidence didn’t exist she simply fabricated it. The resulting show trial and subsequent executions could have had devastating consequences for her standing in Cardassian society, but the Order was watching all of this and welcomed her in with open arms.
Joining the Obsidian Order she quickly established herself as a feared and ruthless operative focusing heavily on medical, scientific research and development focusing especially on the effects that extreme cold had on the physiology. She earned her self the nickname of the “The Doctor” for both her inventive interrogation techniques and her flawless track record of never having lost a subject to her methods.
The ill advised expedition by Enabrain Tain along with the Romulans saw the Obsidian Order cease to exist for all sense and purposes. The following 2 years saw a mad power struggle with the remaining operatives conducting a war in the shadows to seize what remained of the Order’s resources and establish a power base.
The arrival of the Dominion and Cardassia’s subsequent amalgamation into it changed everything. The newly reformed Cardassian Intelligence was even more ruthless and efficient under Dominion control than the order had ever been and Ishe plunged into her new duty’s with typical efficacy, eliminating her rivals and re-establishing her position as one of the most prominent operatives.
As the war progressed despite all the efforts of Intelligence it was clear to someone even as loyal as Ishe was that the Dominion was going to loose and this was only confirmed by her unauthorised and off the books interrogation of a Breen Envoy to the Dominion. She began planning for the outcome of the war which ever way it was going to go. Funnelling credits and resources to her own projects she established an asteroid base in the Badlands and began moving equipment and personal into to position to prepare.
Unfortunately Ishe was still on Cardassia finalising the last shipments when the war closed in on the home world and following Legate Demar’s wholly unwise uprising she was caught in the bombardment of Lakarian city. 2 million Cardassians died and Ishe was buried under the rubble of a collapsed warehouse trying to dispatch the last of her transports.
The next thing Ishe remembered is waking up in the medical bay of a Cardassian transport fleeing the planet. Her left eye in ruins she spent the next 6 weeks confined to the medical bay whilst her body recovered from her injury’s, refusing all offers of regenerative treatment on her face she attached a simple eye patch as a reminder of what she had been through
Whilst angry for the destruction that had been wrought to her home she didn’t blame the Dominion for it, she admired the efficiency, precision and ruthlessness in the way it had been carried out, she understood exactly why they had done it and had the tables been turned she would have done exactly the same in their place.
Ishe blamed the Federation, their incompetence and lack of understanding of the Dominion had brought all this on the Alpha quadrant. Had the Obsidian Order made first contact none of this would have happened.
Returning to her base in the badlands she began to rebuild, re-outfitting her ship renaming it the Lakarian so as to never forger, recruiting crew and followers to her cause both like minded Cardassians and Aliens alike, all who bore her grudge with the Federation. This would not be a war fought in the open but in the shadows… the only way she knew how to fight.
Loosely aligning herself to Klingon Empire to provide a modicum of protection for her actions she became a privateer in the Klingon Defence Force, currying favour and gaining allies as she went, worming her way into the heart of Klingon society and carving out her own piece of the underworld as she went. Spreading her tentacles far and wide she applied all of the training given to her by the order. When the time came to strike the Federation and its allies would learn to fear her, they would know what it felt like to suffer as she had done, as the Cardassian people had done…
For Cardassia, For Lakarian City
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