General Chang

[In truth, it wasn't the traps themselves that troubled him. It wasn't hard to get through the traps, and K'Nera was sufficient trained by this stage to follow his lead. And they were challenging enough to keep his mind occupied. (Near death experiences are fun.)

But Narvin wasn't the only one to come up with the connection with Coyolxauhqui. His thoughts weren't of irritation, however, but mourning the loss of the only person he'd encountered on board who truly got him.

So he was sitting in this latest trap, apparently in no hurry to get out of it.]

[Christopher is still in his Klingon get up for the most part. The patch is off, but not much else. It's actually quite warm and comfy and the Klingon make up is hard to get off anyway. He's well known as an actor who genuinely enjoys his work, is giving to his colleagues and has multiple stories from the hilarious to the bizarre to the downright raunchy.

He's lived and it shows in how he's ready to roll with anything. Any pranksters who catch him off guard get belly laughs for their trouble and the nervous newbies get tips and hints and he seems endlessly patient. He makes it seem effortless.

Right now he's shuffling a pack of cards.] Well, now, we appear to be experience technical difficulties for the foreseeable, so how about a game of poker?

[He smiles.]

This month is the Klingon month Soo'jen or 'Glory'. It is perhaps fitting that I should meet my other self in such a month. He did glory to his people and those who he encountered upon those ship.

Each attempt to strip his Klingon honour away from him was repelled and he found honour in resistance. Honour here, I find, is thin on the ground. There are few enemies to fight, beyond those childish to believe that a tantrum against our Exalted Admiral will gain them points or fear is a valued weapon where amnesia is common and ennui more so.

Death has no meaning. And I mean not in the human sense of the meaning of death, yes, I see the oblivion as much as a human or Vulcan or Time Lord would, but it is a mere shutdown, not unlike what an AI might experience should you deactivate it, but that is not meaning.

It is so limited. It pays no respect to the life led before it, reducing it to mere automatic functions to be reset if it 'malfunctions'.

I have never felt the desire to simply vanish before I arrived in this place.

In that other ship, there were enemies. True injustices to be fought, honour existed in the hearts of those inmates, it made them strong, powerful. Vital. Each of their deaths had meaning. Each smile, each act of generosity, had meaning.

I share my former warden's enthusiasm [Enthusiasm, blood lust, same difference, right?] to return, if only to restore meaning to my own existence, regardless of the death stolen from me.

It has given me a purpose.

[Filtered away from Sexby]

I do not expect understanding on this matter. I can only say that a soldier forms an attachment to his weapon, it is part of his identity, to hold a weapon, to defend with it, to make it an extension of self. Sentimental perhaps, but nonetheless a strong feeling.

We all know of Sexby, of his crimes, but of the man beyond them. Perhaps this version is a unpolished man, one given to baser instincts but we know him, even if this youth has not known us.

I have thus deemed him suitable to bear a blade. I am no warden, but I am a general. A warrior does not wield a weapon carelessly, particularly in a place unknown to him. Do not remove it. I warn you only as a courtesy.

[Holds up an artifact.] Sharing your culture with the rest of us, Goddess? How kind.

Ugh. More humans.

I require exercise. Who would spar with me?