Star Trek - Diplomatic Implausibility Part 6

"Will it affect the mission?"

"I do not believe so," Worf said carefully. The fact of the matter was, he had no idea what effect it would have.

Drex's was not the only familiar name on the Gorkon's crew roster.

There was the second officer, Toq, one of the children Worf had rescued from the prison camp on Car raya-Worf looked forward to seeing the young man again.

And then there was the primary-s.h.i.+ft gunner Rodek, son of Noggra.

A false name that Worf himself had given to Kurn, son of Mogh. His brother.

When Worf had opposed Gowron's invasion of Car da.s.sia four years previous, Gowron had cast Worf out of the empire, seized his family's lands, and removed Worf's younger brother Kurn from the High Council.

k.u.m had come to Deep s.p.a.ce Nine to ask Worf to perform the Mauk-to'Vor on him, but Captain Sisko had forbidden it-what would be a proper ritual in the empire was murder on a Bajoran station, and Sisko would not allow one of his senior staff to kill his own brother.

Kufn was unable to die with honor and unable to go on living. Worf found only one solution have Dr. Bas.h.i.+r erase Kurn's memory and surgically alter his crest, and then create a false record. "Rodek" was born from the ashes of Kurn.

Now Worf was a hero of the empire, a respected member of the chancellor's House. However, his brother unknowingly still lived the lie necessitated by a dishonor that no longer existed.

But aside from Noggra, who took Rodek in, and Worf himself, no one in the empire could know of this. Not even Martok.

"Worf, if you are hiding something from me that will affect what happens at tad-"

"I will see that it does not, Chancellor," Worf said formally. "You have my word."

Martok gazed upon Worf with his one good eye, and finally said, "Very well. Your word has always been more than enough. We will speak no more of it."

And they did not.

"It was a glorious battle," Klag said as he opened a third bottle of blood wine and poured it. Most of it landed inside the mug; the rest splashed onto the table. Klag didn't seem to notice or care. "Twelve s.h.i.+ps against six Breen and Jem'Hadar vessels. When it was over, only two remained the Pagh and one of the Jem'Hadar s.h.i.+ps. But we were both severely damaged. The fifth planet was breathable, so Kargan ordered us to land there. The Jem'Hadar did the same."

Riker took a hearty gulp from his own mug of blood wine still from the first bottle. Anti-inebriant notwithstanding, he was feeling a bit woozy, while Klag-who had drunk about four times as much-showed no signs of even slowing down.

"Our stabilizers were a thing of the past. The moment we hit the atmosphere, we were thrown across the s.h.i.+p like riders on a bucking mount. By the time I regained my senses, I was on the deck, my right side pinned by what was left of the command chair." He snorted. "The chair had been sliced in half, and one of those halves was presently weighing me down. I couldn't feel my right arm, but I could see it sticking out from the other side of the debris. With a mighty shove, I rolled the twisted piece of metal off with my left hand-and then I stood to get a damage report." Klag took a long gulp of blood wine "My right arm remained on the deck."

Riker let out a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding. Even though he knew that the story would have Klag losing his arm at some point, Riker had found himself sufficiently engrossed that it still came as a surprise. He drained his mug of blood wine "That must've hurt."

Pouring Riker some more before the commander could stop him, Klag replied, "Actually, no. I felt only anger-which increased a hundredfold when I saw that I was the only one who had survived the crash." Klag set down the bottle and clenched his fist. "I was furious! For such a fine crew to have survived the Jem'Hadar, only to die like that!"

Leaning back and smiling, Klag said, "But then I saw the corpse of Captain Kargan. It was a sight I had long awaited."

Riker leaned forward. He had half-expected the glee with which Klag described Kargan's death. The general impression Riker had of Kargan from his time as the latter's first officer was that the captain would be removed due to his own inept.i.tude ere long. The fact that he hadn't had always confused Riker.

"What you did not know about the captain," Klag said, "is that he was the son of General Talak-and the nephew of Councilor K'Tal."

Riker nodded. He didn't know much about Talak, but K'Tal was one of the more respected members of the High Council. Riker had met K'Tal eight years earlier when the councilor supervised the installation of Chancellor Gowron. "Friends in high places, huh?"

"The highest. So I was trapped under that fool. He blocked any opportunity for me to be promoted off the Pagh, keeping me firmly under his heel while he stumbled through command with the same idiocy he displayed against the Enterprise ."

Shortly after Riker had reported to the Pagh as first officer, the vessel was afflicted with a corrosive element. Kargan made the ludicrous leap in logic that the Enterprise had sabotaged the Pagh during their rendezvous. Riker had defused the situation, but it was a close call. "Why didn't you challenge him?" Riker asked. It was, after all, Klag's right; indeed, Riker had invoked that right, after a fas.h.i.+on, during the confrontation with the Enterprise .

"Oh, I could have, if I'd wanted to measure my life in microseconds.

Both K'Tal and Talak had minions on the Pagh who would make sure that no harm would come to Kargan. Even a successful challenge would have been a failure. I intend to die in battle, not in a dark corner at the hands of a paid a.s.sa.s.sin."

"So why didn't he challenge you?" Grinning, Klag said, "And lose what respect he'd sc.r.a.ped up for himself? His House kept him alive quite well, but even the finest a.s.sa.s.sin will not bring trust. He needed me to lead the crew so he would be spared having to."

"So seeing him dead wasn't exactly what you'd call a hards.h.i.+p," Riker said with a sardonic smile.

"No."

Taking another sip of blood wine Riker shook his head. Not for the first time, he realized he'd make a lousy Klingon. There was just no way he could take such pleasure in anyone's death, never mind advancing in rank that way.

Klag finished off his latest mug of blood wine and poured some more.

Riker had, at this point, lost count of how much the captain had drunk.

"So, as the only survivor, it was left to me and me alone to finish what we had started. After all, if I survived, some of the enemy might have as well-and that meant the battle was not yet over. I found a working scanner and saw that seven Jem'Hadar and one Vorta still lived amidst the wreckage of their s.h.i.+p. Armed with a mek'leth, I went to greet them." Smiling, Riker said, ""Greet' them, huh? And how'd they return the greeting?"

"Poorly," Klag said with a vicious grin. "Oh, it was magnificent Their Vorta had been injured, and their instru mentation destroyed in the crash. I had lost a great deal of blood, and should have felt the effects, but the death of my comrades put a fire in my belly. The Jem'Hadar may have been bred for combat, but the heart of a warrior cannot be grown in a Vorta laboratory. Within minutes, I stood amongst the corpses of my enemies, my mek'leth stained with their blood and the Jem'Hadar's drug." He gulped down more blood wine half of it running down into his goatee. Slamming the mug to the table, he smiled. "Then I pa.s.sed out."

Riker laughed. "Good timing."

"Indeed. I came to on a s.h.i.+p, being examined by some doctor or other who had stanched the bleeding from my shoulder. I was told that our battle had paved the way for Defense Force and Starfleet vessels to penetrate the Allicar sector. I had left the Homeworld the lapdog of a fool. I returned as a hero of the empire." He indicated the s.h.i.+p around him with his hand. "I was given this as my reward."

"Quite a reward."

"Yes. One wonders why you have not been similarly blessed, old friend."

Riker sighed. He had expected this subject to come up. After all, he had remained a first officer longer than Klag had. "Big difference between us, Klag. Kargan forced you to stay under his command. I remain with Captain Picard-and on the Enterprise -by choice."

"Then you are a fool. Whatever Picard's merits-and I admit, he has accomplished much-even he is not worth denying yourself the greatest glory of all."

Smiling, Riker quoted, ""Better to reign in h.e.l.l than serve in heaven.""

Klag frowned. "What?"

Riker had uttered the quote in English. He repeated it in Klingon, subst.i.tuting Sto-Vo-Kor for heaven and Gre'thor for h.e.l.l. The translation didn't entirely hold up, as those two realms in Klingon mythology were not precise a.n.a.logues to the human concepts. "It's from a human poet named John Milton. Basically, it means that it's better to be the ruler of a bad place than to be a subordinate in paradise."

Klag nodded. "Ah, I see. Obviously, you disagree with this poet"

"I didn't used to. Time was I lived my life by it. But that was before I signed onto the Enterprise -she's the finest s.h.i.+p in the finest fleet under the finest captain. I couldn't ask for a better place to serve, even if it means staying a first officer." Grinning, Klag said, "Plus, of course, there's that half Betazoid counselor of yours."

Riker laughed, and wondered if he blushed. His cheeks certainly felt flushed, but that could have been from the blood wine "Your sources are good, Klag. Yes, there is her also."

Klag shook his head. "You're a typical human, Riker. Sacrificing duty for the sake of par' Mach "I'll take that as a compliment," Riker said, raising his mug.

Klag threw his head back and laughed. "Of course you do, my friend!"

Raising his own mug, he said, "I toast us both. Two warriors who have at last found their place in the universe." Riker smiled and clanked his mug against Klag's. "I'll drink to that."

Suiting action to words, he drained his mug. "And with that, I really do need to be getting back. We're due at Starbase 10 in two days."

Klag stood up; Riker did likewise. "It was good to see you again, my old comrade. Perhaps someday, we will fight side by side-you in the s.h.i.+p of your dreams, and I in mine."

Riker had had enough battles over the past couple of years to last him several lifetimes, but he gamely said, "It would be an honor, old friend."

"Good." Klag hesitated. "One question, before you go."

"What?"

Again, Klag hesitated. "Amba.s.sador Worf. You served with him."

"For over seven years. He's one of the finest officers I've ever known."

"Then you think he is worthy of his new position?"

Folding his arms, and resisting the obvious answer to the question, Riker said, "I take it you don't?"

"What I think is that he received this post because he is of Martok's House, just as Kargan gained his by being of K'Tal's. And I have had my fill of such things."

Riker straightened. "Worf isn't Kargan. And the Federation isn't in the habit of basing its diplomatic a.s.signments on nepotism."

Klag got a faraway look for a moment, then blinked at Riker. Then he laughed and slapped Riker on the shoulder -but it was not Klag's trademark throw-back-the head laugh, more of a snort or a chuckle, if a Klingon could ever be said to chuckle. "Perhaps not. Well, enough of this. You must be returning to your s.h.i.+p. And let me give you a piece of advice."

"Yes?"

"Grow the beard back. You look like a Romulan without it."

Returning Klag's laugh, Riker said, "I'll think about it. Qapla', Klag."

"Qapla', Riker. And farewell."

As Riker headed toward the Gorkon's transporter room, he thought, That's two Klingons who think I should grow the beard back. Maybe I should consider it. Then he remembered kissing Deanna while still bearded and her subsequent reaction "Yuck."

Naaaaahh.

When Worf concluded his meal with Martok, he was greeted in the transporter room by Drex.

"Commander," Worf said as he stepped down from the platform. "Has my aide arrived?"

"Yes," Drex said. "I will take you to your quarters." Drex then walked up to Worf and stared him directly in the eyes. "We are House-mates now, son of Mogh. See that that does not change."

Worf had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. But then, he did not expect Drex to make it easy for Worf to fulfill Martok's request. "If it does change, Drex, it will be of no consequence."

Drex snorted, then turned and exited the room. Worf followed.

A woman in a bekk's uniform stood at attention outside the quarters where Drex led Worf.

"This," Drex said as the doors opened at their approach, "is Krevor.

She has been a.s.signed to you for the duration of this mission. Unless," Drex added with a sneer, "you have some objection."

Sighing, Worf said, "I have none."

Drex glared at Worf. "Very well. If there is anything you need, Amba.s.sador-I am sure you will know how to obtain it."

With that, Drex turned on his heel and left.

Worf shook his head as he entered his quarters. He suspected that Drex had deliberately chosen a female as an insult. However, if Worf was insulted by anything, it was Drex's belief that Worf would be so easily offended.

The room he entered was large by Defense Force standards, which meant it was still smaller than anything on the Enterprise. In fact, it reminded Worf of the quarters he had taken on the Defiant, though this had two separate beds instead of bunks. He and Wu were meant to share.

The latter sat on one of the beds. He rose at Worf's entrance. "I may be going out on a limb here, sir," he said slowly, "but I get the feeling there's some bad blood between you and the commander."

Worf nodded, and noted that his duffels were on the floor next to the other bed. "We met when I was first a.s.signed to Deep s.p.a.ce Nine. It was shortly before the empire's invasion of Carda.s.sia. Drex was bullying the station's personnel, and he a.s.saulted one of the Promenade shopkeepers. Drex is also the son of Martok."

"Ah, I see," Wu said. The aide still wore the red vest, now over a black s.h.i.+rt and dark green trousers. "He a.s.sumed that his family status gave him carte blanche to act like an idiot," Worf nodded as he set the Kahless-and-Morath statue on the desk.

"Something like that. I challenged Drex and took his d'k tahg in order to get Martok's attention. Or, at least, the person I thought was Martok."

"The changeling?" Wu asked.

Again, Worf nodded. "After I rescued the real Martok from the Jem'Hadar prison camp, he made me part of his House. Drex objected."

"Because of the way you embarra.s.sed him?"

"Yes. But Martok knew nothing of that, and did not care."

Wu shook his head and chuckled. "So Drex is stuck between a rock and a hard place. You're an honored part of the House, so he has to treat you as such-or, at least, not actively challenge you-but he hates your guts."

"An apt summary," Worf said.

"We'll need to keep an eye on him, then," said Wu, pulling his padd out of his vest pocket and making notes on it. "Someone with that kind of grudge could cause problems."

The door chime rang.

"Enter," Worf said.

Krevor stood in the doorway. "May I speak with you, Amba.s.sador?"

"Of course," Worf said, taking a seat at the desk.

The young woman entered. She had fairly straight black hair, dark eyes, and a soldier's bearing. "I just would like you to know, sir, that I consider this a.s.signment to be a great honor, and that I look forward to the opportunity to die for you."

n.o.ble sentiments, Worf thought, but said in a rote manner. He suspected there was more to this. "But-?"

"If you feel that I am not worthy of this a.s.signment, I would not be insulted if you requested another."