“I thought they’d never leave,” he said, turning I, to face Dax. “I was hoping we could have a nightcap.” He indicated the now empty table littered with glasses and mugs.
She laughed. “With pleasure, Commander.”
Riker felt his heart race slightly. He’d been hoping for years for some opportunity to spend time with Dax. It looked as if these long talks with the Klingons just might give him the opportunity, if Dax was willing. And so far she seemed to return his interest.
Riker scooted a chair out for her and then motioned for Rom to bring two glasses of wine. “I hope Quark’s best wine will do,” he said as he sat down beside her.
“Very much so, Commander,” she said, smiling at him. “What’s the occasion?”
“Good company always requires good drink,” he said.
She laughed.
“Didn’t buy that, huh?” he asked, laughing with her. He really enjoyed her laugh and was glad she used it freely.
“Not for a moment.”
Rom delivered the two glasses of wine and Riker waited until he had left before he held his up in a toast. “To a successful meeting.”
Dax raised an eyebrow and smiled. “To success.”
They both drank, then Riker turned to face her. “So what did you honestly think of the meeting today?”
He watched her sip her wine and seem to ponder. He needed her opinion, because at this point he didn’t completely trust his own.
“It didn’t go well” she said, putting down her glass and facing him. “I think Gowron is intent on improving relations with the Federation, but I don’t know how long that will last. And I think Admiral Jellico was the worst person the Federation could have sent to head these meetings.”
“And why’s that?”
She laughed. “Oh, come on. He hates Klingons. That much is clear from his every action.”
Riker nodded. He’d felt the same way after today’s meeting. And so had Captain Picard. But at the moment there didn’t seem to be anything anyone could do about the admiral.
“I’m afraid I agree,” Riker said. “But with the problems along the Federation/Klingon border heating up, and the Cardassians playing both sides of the fence, we need this meeting to work.”
“Actually,” Dax said, twisting her wineglass in her hand. “I don’t think that’s what is driving Gowron.”
“So what is?”
Dax glanced around, then leaned in closer to Riker. “Gowron is barely holding on to power inside the Empire. There are many Klingons who wish the Empire had never stopped their conquering ways and they want to return to those old methods.”
Riker shook his head. “They’d never stand a chance against the Federation. Not now.”
“We know that,” Dax said. “And so does Gowron.”
Riker nodded. “So he needs the conference to help make relations with the Federation stronger so that if he needs to go to war against, say, the Cardassians, we might come in on his side. Or at least stay neutral.”
Dax nodded. “But there are those on both sides who don’t want this conference to work in any fashion at all. In fact, the very existence of the conference, whether anything comes of it or not, is bad for many.”
This time it was Riker’s turn to lean in closer to Dax. He liked her soft smell and wished he was leaning in at that moment for a different reason. “We have information,” he said, “that there will be a Klingon disruption of the conference. Possibly an attempt on Gowron’s life.”
Dax looked him in the eye, not totally surprised but obviously taken aback nonetheless. “If Gowron is killed here, it might be taken as a dishonor by the Federation against the Klingon Empire.”
“Afraid so,” Riker said.
“Have Odo and Commander Sisko been informed?”
Riker nodded. “And security is everywhere. See the two drunks at the bar?”
Dax turned around to stare at the backs of two humanoids dressed in raglike clothing, sitting at Quark’s bar. They looked like miners right out of the Conway mines. At the moment Quark was making a face at one of them, as the humanoid seemed to be passing out in his drink.
She turned back to Riker. “You’re kidding?”
He shook his head. “We’ve got every area we can think of covered.”
She glanced back at the two drunk miners and shook her head. “Amazing.”
As she downed the last of her wine Riker asked, “You ready for another?”
She shook her head no. “But dinner tomorrow after the meeting would sound good.”
Riker could feel the smile straining his face. “I’d love it. Another chance to talk.”
She stood. “Until tomorrow, then?”
He stood with her. “Tomorrow.”
Then he watched her as she left the bar.
“She’s a hard one to not stare at, huh, Commander?” Quark said as he bent over beside Riker and started clearing the empty glasses from the table.
Riker laughed. “Yeah, you could say that.” He finished the last of his wine, put the glass on Quark’s tray, and headed for a good night’s sleep.
With the meeting, followed by dinner tomorrow, he might need it.
Commander Sisko watched as Chancellor Gowron beamed back to his ship and Captain Picard beamed back to the Enterprise. Then Sisko turned to face Ops.
The current shift seemed to be going normally, considering the extra staff on duty. With two Klingon Birds of Prey and the Enterprise stationed off the station, all shifts needed extra help. And by the time the five days of this conference were finished, it would strain his people to the limit. And him, too. Today’s meetings had exhausted him.
Major Kira Nerys seemed to be the only staff member out of place, since she wasn’t scheduled for this shift. She sat at the security console, staring ahead. He excused the detail that had accompanied them to Ops, and moved her way. She didn’t hear him as he approached.
“Sleep might be a good idea,” he said.
She started, then glanced up and smiled. “Just making a few last-minute checks on station security.”
Sisko nodded. He had the same worries she had. There was more than one rumor about an assassination attempt. And he didn’t want it happening on his station.
“Any changes?” he asked.
Kira turned and indicated the board in front of her. It showed the positions of the thirty security personnel currently on duty. That didn’t count Odo, who Sisko figured would be working every minute he could over the next few days.
“All seems normal,” she said.
“But—?” Sisko said.
She glanced up and smiled again.
“I could hear it in your voice,” he said. “Do you have anything?”
She shook her head and stared at the panel. “Nothing concrete. Just a feeling. A very bad feeling.”
“So do I, Major,” he said. “So do I.”
And for the next half hour the two of them went over the tightest security measures ever placed on Deep Space Nine.
Chapter Four
QUARK’S BAR STILL SEEMED EMPTY compared with the previous evening. It was dinnertime and the day’s meeting between the Klingons and the Federation had only broken up a little more than an hour before. The bar wouldn’t get crowded until later, well after the dinner hour.
Commander Riker and Lieutenant Dax had left the meeting together and sat at a corner table, talking softly, laughing somewhat louder. Quark had served them his best dinner and wine and then, at Riker’s pointed suggestion, had left them alone.
Two tables of Klingons filled the center of the room and three of Quark’s regulars were at the bar. The noise level was high, but not enough to disturb conversation.
The Caxtonian trader Conpap strode into the bar and went directly to the back table where he sat alone. The night before, Gowron and the others had used the same table. He’d picked it purposefully, knowing that this evening the leader of the Empire might return to it.
“You know,” Quark said, fann
ing his hand in front of his face as he stood in front of the Caxtonian trader, “that bathing might be an idea you should consider.” Quark stepped back. “There are people eating in here.”
Conpap just growled, then looked up at Quark and said, “Romulan ale. I am in a hurry.”
Quark rolled his eyes and moved away, leaving the Caxtonian trader alone.
Conpap’s gaze darted around the room, noting each person. Only three Starfleet crew were in the room, and he also knew that one of the customers at the bar was a security officer. He studied all of their movements, noting when they looked around and when they looked away.
After a minute Quark returned with his ale, slid it onto the table, and quickly left. Conpap pretended to drink, then placed the glass down. With one hand in his thick coat pocket, he pulled out a small bomb and pressed it firmly against the underside of the table.
It stuck there and no one seemed to notice. His hand moved away from the bomb no larger than the size of the base of his ale glass. He knew it had enough explosive to destroy this table and everyone at it.
He pretended to take another drink, then pushed the glass to the center of the table and stood. He let one hand slide carefully into his pocket to the bomb’s trigger, holding it like a prized toy. Later, when this table was again full and Gowron was entertaining the Federation people, Conpap would come back to the bar and, from a safe distance, set off the bomb.
And then he would be rich. Very rich.
A foolproof plan.
Riker finished the last bite of his steak and pushed the plate toward the edge of the table. “I think Quark outdid himself this time.” He couldn’t remember a meal that he’d enjoyed as much, both for taste and for company.
Dax smiled. “You didn’t believe me when I told you Quark’s had some of the best food on the Promenade. “She leaned forward and whispered, “Just don’t ask where he gets his recipes.”
“Not a chance,” he said, wiping his mouth and tossing his napkin onto his empty plate. He sipped his wine, letting the smooth taste fill his mouth and accent the lingering memory of the steak.
“You seem peaceful,” Dax said.
Riker laughed. “Wonderful food and great company makes me relax.”
She raised her glass in a toasting motion. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“As it was intended,” he said.
Another sip of wine and he leaned forward. “You think today’s meeting went as poorly as yesterday?”
Dax nodded, finishing the last of her Tautean salad and pushing the plate aside. “I can’t imagine that anything will—” She broke off her sentence and glanced up at something behind Riker. She had suddenly become very, very serious.
Riker turned around. Behind him Odo stood squarely in the middle of the entrance to Quark’s. Four security personnel flanked him.
All four had their hands on their phasers.
Odo’s gaze was across the bar and looked very intent.
Riker followed the gaze in the direction of a Caxtonian trader who was just moving toward the door. The huge creature in dirty pants and a ragged coat had just stepped away from the large table they had all sat at last night.
The Yridian saw Odo and stopped cold.
Suddenly the huge Yridian looked like a trapped animal. His posture tensed, his eyes went wide. Riker had seen that look more times than he wanted to admit.
The trader glanced one way, then another, obviously looking for a way out. Finally he made up his mind and darted to the left, just as one of the Klingon warriors at the center table pushed back his chair and stood.
The Yridian, his attention focused on Odo and the guards, bumped squarely into the Klingon from behind.
The Klingon spun, mostly on reflex, and pushed the trader backward into the large table.
The trader went down hard.
The next instant an explosion shattered the room.
Riker was slammed back against the wall, his head banging against the hard surface.
He felt the thud and then a flash of light and pain.
And then the world went black.
The next thing Riker knew, Dax was bending over him.
He blinked the dust out of his eyes and stared at her, forcing himself to focus on her face until the spinning slowed. She had a scratch across her forehead and her hair was covered with dirt, but she looked all right.
“What happened?” he managed to say.
She shook her head and glanced over her shoulder. “A bomb at the table we were at last night. It looks like it destroyed the back half of Quark’s.”
“The trader?”
“Dead,” she said. “And possibly a few of the Klingons. I couldn’t tell.”
That wasn’t going to help the conference. He tried to move and pain shot through his head, making Dax’s face and the ceiling behind it spin like a ship out of control.
“Go easy,” she said, holding him firmly. “You got a nasty bump on the back of your head.”
He relaxed. Then he felt himself smiling through the pain.
“And just what’s so funny?” Dax asked.
“I was hoping I would end up in your arms, but not this way.”
She laughed and didn’t answer.
But he could see the twinkle in her eye and suddenly his head felt much, much better.
Chapter Five
RIKER STOPPED IN THE DOOR to Quark’s bar and stared. It was amazing to Riker how fast a Ferengi, worried about losing profit, could clean up a bar half destroyed by a bomb.
After the blast Riker had beamed directly back to the Enterprise to have Dr. Crusher look at his head wound. She’d kept him in sickbay for an hour, then released him. By the time Riker had changed and gotten back onto Deep Space Nine, Odo had done his investigation and Quark had cleaned up his bar and opened for business.
It wasn’t as crowded as last night, but getting close. Chancellor Gowron, Captain Picard, Dax, and Admiral Jellico were already sitting at a table against the back wall. A dozen Klingon and Federation security men stood around them, backs to the table, obviously on guard.
“How are you feeling, Number One?” Picard asked as Riker approached the table.
Dax smiled at him and indicated that he take a chair beside her. That made him feel even better.
“The head isn’t ringing anymore, and Dr. Crusher said I will live if I take it easy for a day.”
“Good man,” Gowron said, slapping the table so hard he rattled the glasses and made two of the Federation guards flinch. “Hate to lose a Federation man who actually drinks blood wine like a Klingon warrior.”
Picard laughed, but Admiral Jellico only snorted and sipped at his water. Beside him Dax lightly touched his arm to show she was glad he was all right, then moved her hand away.
“So what happened?” Riker asked after he got seated, glancing over at the area where the explosion had happened. A black stain on the floor was the only sign left of the incident, and Quark had placed a table over it in an effort to pretend it hadn’t happened. No one was sitting at that table.
“The Yridian planted a remote-controlled bomb on the underside of a table,” Dax said. “When he was bumped, he must have triggered it. Or his failing against the table did the trick. There wasn’t enough left of him to be sure.”
“Any clues as to who was behind it?” Riker asked, glancing around.
Jellico and Picard’s faces both stayed purposefully blank. Gowron waved his hand in dismissal. “I have enemies. It is the way of this position. I would rather get back to my story from last night. Where is that Barclay?”
Picard tapped his comm badge. “Picard to Enterprise.”
“Go ahead, sir,” Data’s voice came back.
“Have Lieutenant Reginald Barclay report to Quark’s bar on the station.”
“He is already on his way, sir.” Data said.
“Good. Picard out.”
“So he comes willingly.” Gowron said. “Good, I admire a man who faces what he clearly
does not like.”
“Glad to see you feeling better, Commander,” Quark said, moving in behind Riker’s left shoulder. The Ferengi slipped a glass of wine in front of Riker. “On the house.” Then, almost as if embarrassed by his actions, he moved quickly away.
Dax laughed, staring after Quark. “That’s not something you see every day.”
“I’ll bet not,” Riker said.
“Ah,” Gowron said. “He is here. Now we can start.”
Riker glanced around to see Barclay and Commander Sisko enter the bar and weave their way toward the table. It took them only a moment to be seated.
“Barclay,” Gowron said, pulling out his knife and holding it. “Do you remember where we left off yesterday?”
Barclay glanced at the knife, then nervously nodded. “Y-yes, S-sir. Young Pok had just honored his mother’s command to step back away from Vok, h-h-his enemy.”
Gowron beamed. “Wonderful. A smart student. You will go far, boy.” He leaned forward and jammed the knife into the table in front of Barclay. It stuck there, quivering.
Barclay stared at it, his eyes wide.
Riker bet that Quark didn’t much like his customers doing that to the furniture, but it was Gowron, so what could he say?
“The task becomes more difficult with tonight’s story,” Gowron said. “So listen closely and learn of the honor of a Klingon warrior.”
“Remember, when I stopped my story I was standing with my friend Torghn. His wife K’Tar had just told young Pok to back away from Vok, enemy of the Torghn’s house. And no friend of mine, either.
“Vok half bowed to K’Tar. ‘I knew you would not dishonor your House,’ he said. ‘I accept your welcome.’
“K’Tar snorted and almost spat at him. ‘Vok, do not confuse tolerance with welcome. You may stay, but keep clear of my husband and Gowron. Do not spoil the day with politics.’
“Vok again bowed a slight, almost ironic bow. ‘A pity,’ he said, ‘I did not bring my wife. T’Var could learn so much from you about Klingon hospitality.’
“With that he turned and went into another room, away from my sight. K’Tar growled after him, then turned to young Pok who now stood over the dropped presents. ‘I will see to these. Your father asked you to get food for Gowron. Now go.’
Star Trek: Klingon! Page 3
