Was I dreaming?… Tuk? She called me Tuk?… Why would I be dreaming about her!
-    “Tuk!”
   Again louder, this time I opened my eyes startled by the pounding at my door.
-    “Tuk get out here I need your help!”
   I glared in my hard bed out the dust covered porthole. Straining to see the stars. I couldn’t see a thing. The Binary suns beaming across the hull of the station blotted out any pinholes of light one might call stars.
   Was it really that early?
   The pounding continued to resound at my door.
-    “Tuk get out here now!”
   I furrowed my eyebrows at the thought of dealing with the Klingons again. I wondered if I pulled the covers over my head, would she just go away? The pounding continued and I rose from my groggy sedate.
-    “Back so soon? What now?”
   I screamed at the door as I pulled my skin suit on.
-    “Get out here Tuk! and Bring your tools!” She insisted.
   I stared at the door my eyes half open.
-    “Alvis, please access environmental controls and modulate gravity level to thirty three percent. We have a visitor.” I said.
-    “Yes Charles.” The voice of a young woman chimed throughout my quarters.
   Alvis is my personal Artificial Intelligence assistant. She is housed in my environmental exo suit. She is a hand me down that once belonged to my great uncle Theo Tekman. I couldn’t afford one of those new fancy A.I’s on an engineers salary, Nor would I want to. Alvis’s venerability makes her even more valuable then the latest codex soft intelligence.
   With the reduced gravity the pounding at my door resounded even louder. I gestured my hand to my ear as I winced at the sound as it invaded my head.
-    “Tuk I know you are in there! Get out here now! She shouted through the door.
   Shouldn’t these doors be better at buffering sound. I thought to myself.
-    “It’s Chuck Damn it! Quit calling me Tuk!” I screamed.
   For some reason this Klingon was unable to say my name correctly. Or probably more likely unwilling just to spite me.
   Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes I opened the door.
   She was pretty, for a Klingon at least. She had a Heart shaped face which was wide at the temples and hairline, narrowing to a small delicate chin. It almost made you forget about the ridges on her forehead. Her eyes where a piercing steel grey. Her black hair flowed down her back like waterfalls. She bore an intimidating figure, with well defined muscles which framed her athletic physique perfectly.
   She wore her usual vestments, a dark metallic uniform adorned with armor plates. There was a chain mail Baldric over her right shoulder which held a D‘k’tahg knife. And an empty disruptor holster at her hip. No doubts station security was holding on to the disruptor. But knives, swords, and other various blades where permitted on the station. I myself rarely left my quarters without my sword which is customary on Port Izar.
   She grabbed my arm and pulled me along behind her as she hurried down the hall.
-    “Sorsa, what the hell?” I muttered.
-    “Konmel is dead I need your help repairing the Azaram’s warp drive.” She stated.
   With a yank, I managed to bring us to a stop but her grip on my wrist was not lost, if anything she tightened it.
-    “What are you talking about, what is going on?” I asked.
   She glared at me and sighed.
-    “Our ship was crippled by a Jim’Hadar Battleship, and we lost Konmel.” She explained.
   Konmel was the chief engineer on the IKS Azaram, a small Klingon B’rel class Bird of Prey which with it’s sister ship the Aktuh escorted a larger and older K’t’inga class battleship the Tothok.
-    “So what do you need me for?” I asked.
-    “The Tothok, and Aktuh left the Azaram behind in pursuit of the Jem’Hadar.” She responded.
-    “We need you to help fix the Azaram’s damnable warp drive. You and Konmel retrofitted it! I need you to fix it so the Azaram can catch up to our strike force. Without Konmel I don’t have the expertise to do anything with it.”
   She tuged hard at my arm again but I wasn’t budging. For an Engineer's Mate Sorsa was rather dim. The warp drive was still at specs for a Klingon Bird of Prey and she should have easily been able to fix it.
-    “Why didn’t the Tothok leave someone behind to help?” I asked.
-    “Look they just left us behind, it took us three days just to limp back to this damned Star Base and if you don’t fix the ship now…”
   She didn’t finish the sentence, instead she glared at me.
-    “Ok, ok… Let me wake up, get my tools and I will be at your dock berth in about 20 minutes.”
-    “We need you to fix it now!” She replied.
-    “You said you took three days to get here, what is another 20 minutes. Go tell your captain I will be there.”
   She glared at me as I pulled my arm from her steely grip. I turned and walked back to my quarters. Feeling her behind me I turned to face her.
-    “Why are you following me, go tell your captain I will be there.”
-    “I told my captain I would come get you, I will wait here.” She replied.
-    “Fine just don’t pound on my door again my neighbors are probably pissed as it is.”
-    “And next time push this little button next to my door and talk into it. Alvis would have answered and awoken me.”
-    “I tried that. It told me you where sleeping. That pahtak of a machine of yours told me to go away!” Sorsa responded.
   I entered my quarters, my door swishing closed behind me. I stood for a moment as the last vestiges of sleep cleared from my mind and laughed
-    “Good girl Alvis you should have told her I was planet side, or away, or something.”
-    “Suggestion noted Charles.” Alvis responded.
   I took a deep breath and looked over at my tool case. Then I went to the bathroom.
   After relieving myself I splashed my face with water and looked into the mirror. I saw an odd looking fellow staring back at me.
-    “Only twenty six and my hair is white as fresh snow in December.” I muttered to myself.
   I laughed. No not grey. A byproduct of my family line thanks to decades of eugenics, and genetic engineering.
   I took a good long look at myself in the mirror. There was a rather handsome fellow staring back at me. His hair was short but still wild and unmanageable. Likely thanks to over zealous hair follicles, no doubt a byproduct of decades of genetic tampering. His skin was pale and didn’t tan easily. Another byproduct, this time due to the fact that Izar has two suns. Living in space also tends to have an affect on the complexion.
   All in all not a bad looking fellow, and not so uncommon a face for spacer Ka’Bu born into the aristocratic cast, who are allot less stocky then our planet bound ‘Mole Men’ cousins as we call them. While they in turn tend to call the spacers ‘Air Heads.’
   I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, pitch black things like obsidian orbs inset with silver pupils. Most alien races seem to have white sclera’s due to collagen. Ka’Bu instead of collagen have a unique protein more suited to the high gravity environment the Ka‘Bu live.
   I thought to myself, and I shuttered at the thought that if I keep looking at my self in the mirror like this I would end up becoming vein like my aunt Silvia.
    I began putting on my exo suit. The suit is a self contained multi purpose environmental acclimation device. It houses an artificial intelligence assistant named Alvis. It is also combat capable, and offers to many utilities to mention. Most important is the inertial compensator which allows me to operate for extended periods of time in the lower gravity sectors of the station.
   One major reason no outsiders are keen on visiting planet side is that my colony is a heavy G world. The Ka’Bu live on a planet with a gravity 3 times that of an M class planet like Earth. Not even a Klingon would last long down on my home world, even if the government permitted outsiders planet side.
   To a Ka’Bu prolonged exposure to a low gravity environment like that of earth would cause degenerative health concerns. The loss of bone density, muscle mass, and endocrine health to start.
    As an Engineer I am able to work in the maintenance sectors, as well as the local sectors which are kept at a comfortable gravity level. Most sectors of the station are kept at a decreased gravity level for the human population, as well as aliens, and Federation delegates visiting Port Izar. Which is why I whear my exo suit with it’s built in inertial compensator.
   The Ka’Bu are a warrior society which appreciates war as art. They kept no ties with earth during the early formation of the Colony. Instead Port Izar became a go between for Visiting federation types, while the planet itself was off limits to all outsiders. Being at 3 times Earth’s gravity helped.
   In hindsight it was probably a boon seeing as the Ka’Bu practiced selective breeding eugenics, and genetic engineering under the doctrine of a philosophy of self improvement through high technology, and science. As well as the need to adapt to a highly dense world with such a high gravity. At the same time generations of building space colonies and the miniaturization of inertial gravity manipulating technologies which assisted the colonists early in their efforts has made the Ka’Bu masters of gravity manipulation technology.
   My people are clandestine at best, xenophobic at worst. Even on the station of Port Izar they dislike outsiders to the point of shunning them. When I found myself drawn to helping the Klingons during their first visit weeks ago. I suffered a fare share of insults from my peers for helping them. Hell even the Klingons insulted me some. The Klingons insisted they where only interested in shore leave, as well as the need to acquire supplies while they patrolled for Dominion incursions.
   I finished securing my exo suit. Ka’Bu technology at it’s best. The suit is made from a special material which gives it it’s metallic silver color. An inertial compensator device in the exo suit generates an internal field which artificially imposes the affects of gravity levels on my body which my biology is acclimated to. The suit allows me to work in the sectors of the station which are kept at any gravity level without worrying about any prolonged health problems from working in a lower gravity environment.
   I clipped my sword which is customary on Port Izar onto my waist . Matters of honor are dealt with by the sword. Any sort of blaster, or projectile weapons are prohibited on the station.
   My Sword is a similar in form to an ancient Earth type of sword called a Katana. It is made from a crystalline composite material with unique properties which is grown on my home planet.
   The blade is harder then Diamond and when struck oscillates, or vibrates at a high variance causing the blade’s edge to emit a humming sound. The result is that the blade generates an inertial field directed along it’s cutting edge which hones the cutting edge to a sharpness capable of cutting through single molecules. The inertial field can also be used to block, or counter an opposing force.
   The downside is that if not discharged the blade becomes extremely hot and will generate a wave of plasma as it rips through the molecules in the air. After a few seconds the heat coming off the blade can cook the arm of the person holding it.
   When a small impression just bellow the guard is pressed the guard of the sword will drain the inertial field and generate a protective field which protects the wielders hand if the sword gets to hot. This field also disperses the plasma heat in the direction the blade is pointed. The plasma heat, and inertial cutting force can also be discharged at range towards an opponent when the sword is swung in this manner as well.
-    “Alvis initiate inertial compensator.” I yawned.
-    “Internal support system is operating at optimal levels.” Alvis responded.
   I walked over to my tool case and picked it up. The tool case was a cylander about 5 feet tall and 2 feet wide. It weighed about 280 lbs in normal gravity. Even though my body felt a lot heavier now that my suits inertial compensator was active the suit itself still amplified my strength allowing me to manipulate heavy equipment.
-    “Alvis which berth is the IKS Azaram docked at? I asked.
-    “The IKS Azaram is registered at berth 45238 Charles.” Alvis responded.
   It figured that Izar port authorities would direct the Klingons to that sector. The facilities there where the most outdated on that station. Less expensive stuff for the Klingons to break I guessed.
   I punched some keys on the readout in the side of my tool Case and let it drop. With a thrumming sound the tool case floated about a foot off the ground which gave it a total height of 6 feet.
-    “Alvis please direct my tool case to follow me at a distance of 3 feet.” I said
   I turned and walked to the door which slid open revealing a rather impatient looking Klongon standing behind it with her hands on her hips
-    “It‘s about time Tuk, lets go!” Sorsa exclaimed.
   I followed Sorsa down the hall with my Tool Case in pursuit. She glanced back at it and said something in Klingon.
-    “Mu’qaD Tozah” She muttered.
-    “Alvis please translate.” I said.
-    “She said something to the affect of ‘Fucking Geek‘ Charles.” Alvis responded.
-    “She’s just jealous I have such cool toys.” I responded.
-    “Pahtak” Sorsa responded.
-    “She said …” Alvis started.
-    “No I know what that one means, thank you Alvis.” I interrupted.
   After walking through about a mile of corridors we made it to the lift. And after several minutes of silence the lift had taken us to the Azaram’s Berth.