Spock pushes his cup away, lets the liquid slosh over the sides and splash the table. The alcoholic compound of these beverages has no effect on his physiology. Still, it offers an interesting path in passing the time, “ If you intend to continue usurping my time, the honorable gesture would be to purchase the next round. ”

"You accuse me of usurping your time, yet you choose to remain and have it usurped. I must conclude that you enjoy it, or at least find some value in it. It would be illogical for you to sit here otherwise. Very well!" He rose. "So be it," he said. He went to the bar.

He returned with two goblets and thunked them on the table. "I am Kang," he said. "Son of K’naiah." He nodded to the Vulcan as an invitation to introduce himself.

tales of dax and the former host's excursions with the klingons have been burned into the major's mind.   it feels as if decades have passed since the naive, almost tenderhearted jadzia came to her seeking what felt like guidance.   now,  deep into this war those hands once clean of blood is, too, stained by the perished lives of many.   

typically,  sisko would be overseeing this occasion — his care towards dax is plain as day.   yet,  here she stands greeting the now widow of kang. 

Mara stepped onto the station, her head held high, her countenance cold. If not for her long service record, no one could have guessed she was a hundred and forty nine.

As a former scientist of the Klingon Defence Force, her presence had been requested in connection with the Klingon/Federation war. Starfleet thought Gowron a changeling. Mara's House opposed Gowron's; that made her the ideal person to assist with the investigations. She would require the major to supply her with all information and evidence, and a laboratory in which to analyse it.

She also knew that Starfleet likely distrusted her.

She looked Major Kira up and down and frowned icily at her. She had read the major's record and considered her to be a fine officer and a woman of honour. It remained to be seen whether they would work well together professionally.

"Major," she nodded. "Show me to my place of work."

However, the tussling sounds behind him temporarily sidetracked his focus. He span around just in time to witness another Borg slumping to the floor as his cognitive functions were terminated by the Klingon blade protruding from his pale cranium. Time was not something he had in abundance and therefore his exhibition of gratitude for the Klingon would have to be postponed until a more opportune occasion. His unanticipated movement, to ascertain what was transpiring outside his peripheral vision, coincided with the other Borg firing the electronic device; the energy blast it expelled whizzed past, his tactile sensors registered the blistering temperature, and missing his shoulder by no more than a centimetre. Utilising the confusion to his advantage, the android spurted forward, an impetuous haze of yellow in his vehement aspiration to neutralise the enemy and discontinue their egregious endeavours.

Without hesitation, he dislocated her knee, forcing her to the ground, and applied pressure to her exposed neck, initiating a Vulcan nerve pinch that would render her unconscious for, approximately, an hour. When she, too, dropped to the ground in a pile comprised of dishevelled mechanisms and enhanced human skin, Data perceived the alarmed vocalisation of his ally. His yellow eyes, ablaze with purpose and determination, snapped up at the source that provoked his comrade’s trepidation, and within a nanosecond, the Commander had computed his itinerary and careened toward the juveniles. He accelerated, vaulted over a glass counter display at dangerous velocities, and reached his destination in 4.7 seconds. Unfortunately, the Klingon’s exclamation had apprised the Borg of their incoming assailant, and swivelled around to parry Data’s punch, circumventing a lethal blow. Subsequently, they planted their unoccupied first in his abdomen where they encountered only his indestructible duranium carapace. This miscalculation permitted him to grasp his flummoxed opponent’s ocular prosthetic with his left hand, securing his slender fingers behind the tubes and mechanisms.

‘Avert your gaze!’ he addressed the horrified children huddled in the corner, they spectated, their miens distorted, marred by a frame of sheer terror. ‘Do it. Now!’ he added, an approximated tone of authority accompanied by an undercurrent that did not tolerate insubordination audible in his voice. They obeyed.

The cue he required and which impelled him to proceed with his plans. He shoved the Borg’s cranial unit sideways, the human portion of their head collided forcibly with the wall, the impact of which decimated their skull, blood or hydraulic substances erupting from the fissures in their face and proceeded to trail down their cheek in squiggly lines, like rain on a windowpane. He discarded the deceased Borg to the floor; the assessment of the children’s physical integrity was his priority now.

However, his assessment eventuated in an impasse when the Klingon’s cry for assistance lacerated the tumultuous atmosphere. The inflection that emphasised distress spurred the android to provide his aid. The Borg was a giant compared to Data’s mere 1.80 metres, but that did not deter him; with mathematical precision, he jumped onto his opponent’s back, bundled his muscular neck with his left arm, and held him in headlock, impeding his oxygen supply and trying to steer the drone away from his compatriot.

Once the last drone had been neutralised, Kang glanced around. What had once been a quaint little jewellery store had reduced to a sea of rubble and broken glass, decorated with scattered crystals and ornaments, blood, and dismembered cybernetic parts. The children and the old couple huddled into the corners and quaked with fear. The Ferengi businessmen had secured themselves under a table. The shopkeeper was under another table.

"Get up," Kang urged them. "There may be more. If you wish to stay and loot the wreckage you will die," he added when he noticed one of the Ferengi eyeing some scattered saphires.

He turned to the Starfleet officer. He had noted the man's impressive strength and incredible athletic prowess. He hadn't even broken a sweat. If they survived this, he would congratulate him on a battle well fought - but later. "We must ascertain if there are drones elsewhere on the station," he said. "Unless there is something they want here, it's unlikely they would target this shop specifically."

He waded through the wreckage and retrieved his d'k tahg and mek'leth. He holstered them. Assuming the Starfleet officer would want to check over the civilians, Kang took it upon himself to investigate their situation. He stepped through the store's doorway and looked up and down the corridor. He saw no Borg, nor people of any kind. The lights in the corridor flickered, which indicated perhaps a struggle to gain access to the station's operational controls, or alternatively damaged power generators or circuitry.

He stepped up to a door opposite the gift shop. The sign on the door identified it as an office, but the door wouldn't open. Kang didn't know whether that was because it was locked or because the doors no longer worked. He tried two more doors and they also failed to open. He glanced behind him; the gift shop door remained open because the rubble on the floor prevented it from closing.

He inhaled deeply and smelt the acrid odours of blood and metal in the air. From the far end of the corridor came the telltale scent of smoke tinged with chemicals. Something had detonated or exploded.

He stepped back into the gift shop and addressed his comrade. "Systems in the corridor are damaged. If operational controls have been sabotaged, life support may have shut down. We should go to the station's operations section and access the systems, but I suspect that location would be the Borg's first target. If they have secured it then they have control of the entire station." He glanced at the terrified civilians. "I do not know how to ensure the safety of these people. Perhaps the best option would be to find an empty room and seal them inside until we know more about our situation. Have you checked whether any have been assimilated?"

At that point, one of her subordinates - a junior officer of about sixteen years, and this was his first mission - trotted out of the trees, his scanner held before him. "Commander!" he called breathlessly. "We detected a massive surge of energy from the alien entity... and all the trees around the location suddenly died! I cannot explain it!" He read the coordinates off his scanner.

"Silence!" Mara barked, but the damage was done. The officer glanced at the Vulcan, and then at his boots.

Perfumes, make-up, wellness toiletries, regular toiletries, clothing, handcrafted statues, a vast collection of replicas and genuine artefacts emanating from different worlds, flowers, sweet, savoury, and spicy delicacies, different kinds of beverages consisting of both syntheholic as well as alcoholic compounds, or neither, nifty gadgets, accessories of every kind, organic paintings, geometric paintings, paintings claiming to represent recognisable objects, but Data was unable to consolidate these claims, even after a 2-minute long analysis. The assortment to choose from was, simply put, too expansive, too vast. Fortunately, the Enterprise was docked for repairs, and the crew had been granted permission to seek entertainment and relaxation on the Starbase B'Muvo-74 until all hull ruptures were sealed. The process could take several hours, which provided him sufficient time to subject every shop to his scrutiny and decide on what kind of item to procure for Jenna.

After an informative conversation with a female shop owner, who had recommended he should pay a visit to the jewellery store across the mall, the android strolled past the coffeeshops and restaurants to his new destination. The woman had been most obliging in her endeavour to counsel him on this matter. In addition to her recommendation, she had also given him the advice that the piece of jewellery should symbolise something, something that was relevant or significant to their relationship. A challenge, but his resolution was unwavering.

The shop was mesmerising; gems and precious metals were scintillating under the artificial lights of their display cases, and the ambience in the shop was tranquil, wrapped up in an ethereal curtain of exquisite beauty. However, the serenity was barbarically terminated by a cacophony of glass shattering to smithereens and the shrieks of terror resonating among the pupils. Immediately, Data pivoted around his axis to assess the source responsible for the consternation ⸺ the Borg... He squared his shoulders and assumed a defensive stance, prepared to protect the defenceless ⸺ just as his programming dictated. The glance he traded with the Klingon conveyed more information than words ever could; the integrity of the others was their responsibility now.

Phasers were prohibited on the starbase, and therefore, he would have to engage in hand-to-hand combat. Swiftly, he initiated his martial arts subroutine. Although he was familiar with the Borg’s lethargic locomotion, and could easily neutralise them without the subroutine operating in the background, it was imperative he preserved the element of surprise in order to prevent them from extrapolating and adjusting to his next moves. The alternation between martial arts and improvisation, plus his exceptional physical strength automatically placed him in an advantageous position. Then, he advanced, computing his next course of action meticulously.

    ‘Do not let them touch you!’ he modulated his voice to be heard over the frantic screams and persistent mantra the Borg were reiterating. Resistance is futile... He tapped his combadge while he dodged a Borg arm that lashed out at him, quickly informing the Enterprise of their precarious circumstances. ‘Data to Enterprise. We have’ ⸺ he straightened from his ducking position and palm punched the Borg on the chin, sending him backward ⸺ ‘engaged the Borg. I’ ⸺ he blocked another hand from grappling at his chest and with the adroitness of a machine, twisted and tore the mechanical arm clean off ⸺ ‘repeat: we have engaged the Borg. Reinforcements would’ ⸺ the Borg with the one remaining arm tried to retaliate, but Data was quicker and kicked him forcefully in the chest, causing his opponent to tumble into another display, a cascade of glass raining down on the unconscious drone as he sagged to the ground ⸺ ‘be appreciated.’

Kang leapt forward and ducked under a weaponised Borg arm. He rose and sliced his mek'leth through the drone's exposed neck.

He opened his communicator and hailed his ship.

"tengchaHDaq yot Borg! nuH yI'uch! yIQaw'rup!"

(The Borg have invaded! Lock on weapons and prepare to destroy!)

Static noise answered him. A jamming signal?

Another drone came at him. He backstepped right into a display containing a fist-sized precious diamond. He grabbed the diamond and jammed it into the drone. It penetrated the drone's armour and pierced his heart.

The sound of smashing glass reverberated around the room. Kang glanced towards the Starfleet officer, who defended himself well; he appeared to have dealt with a number of drones. Another drone came up behind the officer and stuck out his arm as if preparing to assimilate. Kang doubted the officer had seen him so he threw his mek'leth into the drone's skull. The drone staggered and fell to the floor.

But while the two of them had engaged the leading drones, another had made his way around the edge of the room to reach the children. The children had squeezed themselves down between two display cabinets, but they'd gone back as far as they could go and had effectively blocked off their own escape routes. The Starfleet officer was closer to them than Kang was. "Lieutenant!" Kang yelled and nodded his head at the drone.

Then he spied another child who had separated from the others and was on the floor, injured. Another drone made towards him. Kang's heart beat hard. He sprung at the drone and headbutted him in the face. The drone faltered. Kang reached for his d'k tahg (knife) and thrust it at the drone's face, but the drone easily swiped his hand out of the way, sending shockwaves all through the bones of his arm. He tried again, this time aiming for the throat, but he was still reeling from the impact and his enemy knocked the knife from his hand. And all of Kang's training and experience could not combat the drone's superior weight and brute cybernetically-enhanced strength. The drone followed up to move with a forceful shove and the sheer power of it toppled Kang to the floor.

Kang responded with a long cold glare that lasted several seconds. "One does not need a reason to visit an old friend," he stated. "I hear a rumour she is planning to marry, or perhaps she already has," he shrugged. "I was passing, so it seemed only fitting to meet to find out whether it is true."

"I am Kang," he introduced himself. "Son of K’naiah."

Kang had taken the only available seat in the Replimat and had resolved to ignore the table’s other occupant. She seemed focused on her book, which suited Kang well; he had his own material to read. He did so while he quietly sipped his tea.

At her utterance, he glanced up.

He had limited experience with humans but he thought he recognised a request for assistance. So he snatched the PADD out of her hands and looked at it. He wasn’t familiar with the device either, but he jabbed at its buttons experimentally. It turned out to be the wrong button; now the text size had increased by 2000%.

He dropped the device on the table. “It seems to be broken,” he said.

He took his teapot and poured himself another cup. He spared a moment to savour the sweet spicy aroma of rosehip and cinnamon. As he sipped, he observed the stranger over the rim of his cup. Her nervous stammer and the way her eyes flitted to her broken device and back again made him think she was flustered. "Are you upset about that thing?" he queried. "What was so important about it? What were you reading?"