Misjudgement – 21003.01

By Lieutenant Commander Katzenjammer

The market place was busy with all sorts of peoples and aliens jostling and vying to sell their wares.

The Cardassian Glinn moved through the bazaar of the bizarre doing his best to look interested in the things around him, but at the same time he seemed intent on trying to make himself disappear into the crowd.

The sound of his concealed communicator was almost drowned out by the noise of the crowd.

“Where are you?” said the voice at the other end.

“In the market.” Replied the Cardassian quietly as not to cause suspicion. Though his people were accepted here on this world, his actions would not be.

“I’ll be with you… “

At that last moment, he’d caught the fleeting glimpse of a Klingon watching him from a side road.

Turning to look at a nearby stall and to give him self better view of where he’d seen the Klingon a moment before to see … nothing. This was not a good sign.

“… get out now.” He whispered.

Turning again to start toward the quickest way out of the market, he turned straight into the face of the Klingon.

“Who is your contact Cardassian!” the Klingon hissed through clenched teeth as he forcefully steered the Cardassian toward an ally way.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He replied hoping that he might confuse the vile creature. The Klingon however was far from confused.

“Perhaps you did not hear me properly Cardassian.” The Klingon said holding the Cardassians’ throat with one hand while unsheathing his d’k’Tang with the other.

“His name won’t be much use to you Klingon if you’re dead.” Countered the Cardassian carefully removing his small phaser pistol from his pocket.

The Klingon moved with incredible speed. Plunging his knife into the Cardassians’ ribs, but in response, the Cardassian also pressed the firing stud on his pistol discharging it into the Klingons’ side.

The Klingon roared and fell back releasing the Cardassian letting him drop to the ground.

There was so much noise and movement in the market that no one seemed to have noticed anything of the exchange.

Slowly, the Cardassian managed to pull himself back to his feet, and start to make his way out of the area. If he could make it to a safe place, then he could again make contact with his associate.

The knife wound hadn’t hurt at first. Klingon weapons were incredibly sharp. The Cardassian was surprised that the Klingon had failed to kill him with the initial blow, but as he approached the edge of the market, it was becoming apparent how weakened the Cardassian now was.

The ally where the market was held had sound dampeners on its entrance to stop it spoiling the area of the city it was situated in with noise pollution.

Finally the Cardassian made it onto the main street that ran along the bay. All around him, civilians and Starfleet personnel alike sat at chic alfresco cafés overlooking San Francisco bay and the Golden Gate Bridge.

The Cardassian was now very weak. The Klingon obviously did more damage than he thought.

Even as he passed out into oblivion on the sidewalk his last thoughts were of his mission and whether his cohorts would be successful in their individual tasks.