International Diplomacy

Vicenza was a true NATO post. There were several people from the UK, a handful of Italians, a Spaniard or two, a rotating Frenchman (no, no, he didn't spin like a top or anything, the position rotated through so the French guy they started with was replaced a few weeks later) and Klaus The Evil Danish Dude.

That's how Kirk always described him. All stories featured not just Klaus, but Klaus the Evil Danish Dude.

The Danish military has a union, and by union rules they aren't allowed to work more than, oh I don't know, seven or eight hours a week. I guess they are all delicate little flowers who must not be taxed with over-work and stress. Klaus was a 6'4" delicate flower who spent his afternoons at the gym so he could pile more chiselled northern muscle on his massive frame. But before he left every day at three he would make a point of poking his head around every corner, tracking down every last person he worked with and loudly saying a cheery 'well! Time to go! Bye!' with a happy wave.

He took a particular shine to the Frenchman. This guy was only about 5'5", and had earned nearly universal dislike by having disgusting personal habits, excessively low moral standards, and being almost completely incompetent. He was also very, very intimidated by the large amounts of Klaus, although he couldn't show it or admit it. Klaus enjoyed this extremely.

The Frenchman had managed to jam the fax machine (again) and was struggling with it, trying to wrench the wadded up paper out of the roller.

'Hey Frenchy'

Ignore, tug tug tug

'Hey, did you break that?'

Ignore, blink blink, tug TUG rip mumble tug

Klaus saunters up and stands mere inches from the poor guy. He begins to poke him, one finger poke in the upper arm.

Poke... poke.... poke....

Ignore, sweat, blink blink, ignore

Poke... poke... poke....

'Does this bother you?' poke poke poke

'Yis!' through gritted teeth, still not making eye contact though 'Yis, eet ees vair' irritating! It does bozzer me!'

Klaus leans in even closer and smiles into the sweaty face. 'Don't let it.'

'Klaus!' Kirk calls from across the room, 'lay off him.'

'Okay!' Klaus smiles angelically at the Frenchman.

'You're one Evil Danish Dude, Klaus.'

'That's right yankee! Well, time to go!'

A modern viking, was Klaus.