Station Log - Stardate 0742822.1.
Along with most other Federation vessels and installations in the area, we have accepted a convoy load of Klingon refugees from their recent border skirmish with the Breen. Starfleet is concerned about old Dominion rivalries starting up, so we've been ordered to do all we can to help. As always, the crew of the Columbus is more than willing to do so.
The Klingon's stay here is proving to be...problematic. Though the majority of them are civilians, we do have a handful of officers staying with us, including their General Yoduk. While the General reminds me of old Royal Naval officers back in my beloved England, the few men he has are quite spirited. The Klingons who live here on the Station are doing their best to help their countrymen settle in until they can be collected.
By the grace of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
Captain Malcolm Adeyemi
[CO's Office]
"Bloodwine, captain?" General Yoduk asked, uncorking a metal bottle. The old Klingon warrior had a mane of gray hair tinged here and there with flecks of black.
Adeyemi had always admired but puzzled at Klingon battle dress: in such a clanking, squeaking leather and metal garment, how was a warrior supposed to sneak about? But that wasn't the Klingon way. They would attack by subterfuge and deception but preferred a slash and a battle cry. An honorable fight. How many honorable fights had General Yoduk won in his day?
Enough. The Klingon reminded him of Royal Navy officers that Adeyemi had known, but with the manners and tone of a bloodthirsty savage. Time hadn't dimmed his desire for drink, for a fight, or a woman. Vaguely, the captain wondered what it was like to live such a base and physical existence.
"Not on duty," He said. He had a glass of mineral water, anyway.
"Not all humans are as chaste and strict as you." Yoduk chided as he filled a metal goblet with bloodwine.
"Not all Klingons are as indulgent as you." Adeyemi replied lightly.
"Ha!" The General took a seat and raised his goblet. " To the Federation, our steadfast allies!"
"Glory to the Empire!" Adeyemi replied, raising his water. Metal clinked off of glass.
"Isn't it bad luck to make a toast with water among your people?" The Klingon asked.
"I believe that the luck of men comes from--"
"Yes, yes, your Lord God!" Yoduk interrupted. "On your recommendation I visited your church and your Vulcan priest--"
"Friar."
"Friar, then. He said nothing of interest and your religion has too much flabby meekness and too little blood."
"You should read the book of Joshua," Adeyemi said, not offended at all. The truth does not fear an investigation. It took more than one hoary old Klingon to shake his faith. "It's nothing but battles."
"I will look into it," Yoduk said, sounding interested. "Perhaps a holodeck recreation is in order."
"The Lord's message is best conveyed through his love, not war," Adeyemi protested.
"Then why are your holy books so violent?!" Yoduk demanded.
Before Adeyemi could continue the debate further, the door's chime sounded. Excusing himself, the captain bade whoever it was to enter.
"Captain," The young Bolian ensign said as he stepped inside. "The Dyser weapon shop on the Promande is alleging the Federation charged them too much in taxes last quarter."
"Can't you see the General and I are busy, ensign?" Adeyemi said sharply. "Go to Commander Lowery and the Flight department. They handle shipping and business matters."
"Respectfully, I did, sir, and she said to come to you. Probably because the Dysers have holed themselves up in their shop and taken up arms and refused to come out."
Adeyemi sighed. He stood and straightened his uniform, ran a hand over his shaved head.
"General, feel free to enjoy the hospitality of my office as long as you like. I have matters to attend to."