2321.Q3
Dawiar Space
Tloc hummed a tune to himself as he walked home, groceries wrapped in paper tucked into one elbow. It was a beautiful day outside, with the wind whistling through the spikes on the catus-trees lining the streets, the lizards chirping in the warm sun. It was a good day on the colony of Hark-drius, which belied the storm in Tloc's heart.
He ascended the stairs to his apartment complex, unlocking the heavy wooden door with a scan of his biometrics. Up a few flights of winding stairs -- good for Tloc's heart, which he needed right now, and then to the long hall that lead to his apartment. He fumbled for his keycard, bag rustling, and pressed it to the door.
He took a step inside. He didn't hear the door behind him in the hall open, and felt more than heard the shot that stunned him. He dropped, his face smashing into the tile as his fruits rolled across the floor.
One bumped into the foot of a Cardassian, stepping out of the kitchen. Gul Kivaas looked down at it, then picked it up. "You have good taste in food, Tloc." He said. He nodded, and the Bajoran who'd hit Tloc with a stunner moved to put cuffs on him, "Makes me sad that you have bad taste in friends, then."
A Konen appeared from Tloc's bedchambers. She was running her hands over a book titled Greatest Debates and Speeches From The Grand Hall.
Tloc grunted, his tongue heavy from the stun, "This is unacceptable, Cardassian! You have no jurisdiction. I'm Dawiar!"
Kivaas looked at the Konen, and she shook her head.
"No," Kivaas said, as Tloc's heart sank into his stomach, "You are not."
