“That they are serving the empire.”
“They serve the empire now.” Tiral pushed the sword closer. Worf felt the blade press against his skin.
“And they have done so, well. But now is the time to find another way to serve.”
Again, Tiral snarled—he seemed inordinately fond of the sound. He did not press his attack, but he did not relent in it, either.
“Governor,” said Klag’s voice from behind Worf, “if you wish to live to ever get off this ship, I suggest you back away from the ambassador right now.”
Worf gazed past Tiral for a moment, and saw that Klag, Krevor, Klag’s guard, and even Drex and Vall all had disruptors trained on Tiral. Tiral’s guards looked uncertainly at each other, not sure what to do. The two al’Hmatti seemed amused as they watched from against the wall.
Tiral lowered his tik’leth. “You are all fools,” he said.
Then he turned and left the room as fast as his girth would allow. His guards followed quickly behind.
Worf turned to Klag. “Your support is appreciated, Captain.”
Klag smiled. “Yes, well—whether or not one respects the person, one must respect the office. Now, come,” he said, putting his lone arm around Vall’s shoulders, “we must prepare this young man for his new career.”
Epilogue
“YOU WISHED TO SEE ME, CAPTAIN?”
Klag looked up from his desk to see Drex. “Yes, Commander, I did.” Klag set down the padd on which he’d been writing his mission report. Worf had spent the last day in contact with both Qo’noS and the al’Hmatti, to arrange the transfer of power. The ambassador also made an effort to find new positions for the displaced Klingon staff—which had surprised Tiral, as he hadn’t expected such consideration from a man he’d tried to kill. Some of the staff would remain behind to aid Vall, and retain the illusion that the empire still ran taD. The satellite would be decommissioned and all operations relocated to the planet—ostensibly, in order to keep the rebels in line.
Klag very much wanted to fold his hands together. He’d always found that gesture intimidating, and he looked forward to being able to do it again. B’Oraq had been in touch with Klag’s family, and M’Raq’s body was being put in stasis pending the Gorkon’s return to drop off the ambassador. The procedure would begin as soon as possible after their arrival.
Until then, Klag had to settle for simply gazing upon Drex. “I’d like to talk to you about your future.”
“My future is honor,” Drex said in a rote manner.
“Perhaps it will be. I certainly hope so. But it won’t be on this ship.”
Drex looked confused. “Sir?”
Klag picked up the padd he was working on, as well as another that sat on his desk. Fanning them so they were both visible, he held them up so Drex could see them. “I have two reports here, Commander. One is a report on the mission to taD. The other is a crew evaluation.
“In the first, you come across very well. It mentions how instrumental you were in locating the rebel base, and also some words Tiral spoke regarding the skillful performance of your duties as his temporary attaché.”
“I’m gratified to hear that, sir.”
In a low, dangerous voice, Klag said, “I did not give you leave to speak, Commander.”
Drex said nothing, but stood up straighter.
Klag went on. “The second report is different. The first officer’s job is to serve the captain, but stand for the crew. You have done little of either. Your battle drills have been uninspired, you have taken no initiative. On more than one occasion you needed to be reminded of your duty. Kegren’s incompetence and Vall’s dissatisfaction should either have come to my attention much sooner—or never should have come to my attention at all.”
“Vall’s—”
“I did not give you leave to speak, Commander!”
This time a scowl darkened Drex’s face, but he said nothing.
Klag got up from behind his desk and started walking to the other side of it. “Do you know that I was not allowed to choose my own crew? The price I had to pay for my first command being so exalted a post. Command chose for me. And I have to say that the choices were not ones I would have made. An incompetent second officer who needed to be removed. A passionless gunner. An eccentric pilot. A chief engineer who doesn’t seem to value innovation. A radical chief medical officer. And you. Not exactly the stuff that songs are made of.”
Klag stood next to Drex. The first officer stared straight ahead.
“But in battle—oh, in battle, it all came together. True, the opponents were mere Kreel, but we were outnumbered six to one. And we triumphed. We were like the warriors of old. And who was absent from this grand victory? Who was the one member of the crew who did not participate in this glorious fight?”
Drex looked like he wanted to say something, but knew better than to tempt Klag’s wrath a third time.
“I cannot point to any one thing and prove your incompetence. Unlike Kegren or that engineer that Kurak dealt with, you have not endangered the ship. But I can say with absolute certainty that you did not receive this commission due to your skills. Like our friend the ambassador, you have the chancellor to thank for your position.”
Now Drex looked like he was ready to explode. But, to his credit, he remained silent.
“But unlike the ambassador,” Klag said, and now he spoke almost right into Drex’s ear, “I have no reason to believe that you might rise above the nepotism.” He walked back around to his desk. “I cannot justify removing you from this post. I can, however, give you a promotion.”
Drex’s scowl was now leavened by a look of confusion.
“I could challenge you—but even if I win, I lose. You are the chancellor’s son, and there would be dire consequences, especially since I don’t truly have cause. But I spent a decade serving under a fool who was promoted through family, and I’m damned if my first officer will be the same way.” He dropped the two padds and picked up a third. “As it happens, a solution has presented itself. Governor Tiral has been reassigned to supervise the weapons development facility on HuDyuQ. They also need a liaison officer to the fleet that patrols that sector. Tiral speaks well of you, and it is obvious that, while you are not suited to the task of first officer, you work well in administration. Therefore,” and now Klag read off the padd, “effective on this, the two hundred and third day in the year of Kahless, 1001, you are hereby relieved of all duties on board the Gorkon and assigned to serve on HuDyuQ. You report to Captain Ch’Targh in two days.”
He handed Drex the padd. The commander looked at it as if it were a tribble, then finally took it.
“You still retain the rank of commander, but you now have far greater responsibilities. Congratulations on the new post, Commander. Now get off my ship.”
“Captain—”
“You have been dismissed, Commander!”
Drex nodded. “Very well.” He left without another word.
Less than a minute later, the door chime rang again. “Enter,” Klag said, and the door rolled aside to let Kurak in. She had a put-upon look on her face, and gripped her left wrist with her right hand. “Commander, I wish to speak to you about Lieutenant Vall.”
“The lieutenant has been reassigned,” she said, sounding confused.
“Yes. And it is the reasons why he volunteered for the reassignment that I wished to discuss.”
“I don’t understand.”
Klag leaned back in his chair. “Vall informs me that you were discouraging him from improving the ship’s systems. He also informs me that he was responsible for the additional power we received during both firefights with the Kreel.”
“All of this has been entered in my logs, as well as Vall’s, sir,” Kurak said impatiently.
“I wish to know why you have behaved in this manner.”
“My task, Captain, is to keep this ship functioning. Improving ship’s systems is a mandate for shipbuilders and repair crews, not on-site crew.”
“Wrong, Commander. Your task is to follow my orders. And my orders are for you to reconsider your position.”
Kurak’s lip curled upward. “Captain, I have my own way of doing things. I’ve been doing it with no difficulty since I joined the Defense Force. If you do not like that way, you can find another chief engineer and transfer me to another ship.”
Throwing his head back, Klag laughed. “Do you imagine I take that kindly to my orders being flouted, Commander? Oh, I may well find myself another chief engineer, but I have no reason to transfer you. The ship’s first officer, assistant chief engineer, and pilot are all transferring off already. No, if I find that I’m dissatisfied with your performance as chief engineer, I will have no choice but to demote you. Since Leskit is returning to the Rotarran, perhaps I’ll make you the new pilot.”
“Captain—” Kurak started, then cut herself off. Her grip on her left wrist tightened. “I will do as you suggest.”
“Good. Dismissed.”
Kurak turned to leave, then whirled back as the door opened. “Lieutenant Leskit is transferring back to the Rotarran?”
“His assignment here was always temporary, Commander. I assumed you were aware of that.”
“No.” The word carried significant weight.
Klag shook his head as Kurak left, grateful that he wasn’t Leskit just at the moment. He called up the requisition he’d been working on for a new chief engineer and erased it. Perhaps he’d need it eventually, but not today.
Drex sat at the console for several minutes before he finally put the communication through. It was on the most secure frequency in the empire, a direct line to the chancellor that even the rest of the High Council didn’t have.
Being the son of the head of the Council has its privileges, he thought bitterly.
The face that appeared on the viewscreen a moment later still gave Drex pause. He wasn’t sure why the scar tissue that had replaced Martok’s left eye so moved him. Maybe it was because he feared that one day the eye would be there again, signaling that the changeling had returned to steal his father’s life away.
But no, that creature died on Ty’Gokor. Gowronshowed me the recording of the event himself. Dozens ofwarriors fired on it with disruptors set on maximum. Itcouldn’t have survived.
“Father,” he said to the image.
“Drex. It is good to see you.”
“And you as well, Father.”
Martok said, “I understand from Worf that the mission to taD ended well.”
“It ended. Father, Klag has transferred me to HuDyuQ. I am to be the fleet liaison.” Drex tried to sound outraged, but he feared he sounded petulant. He had spent years trying to get that tone out of his voice, but he had never quite done it to his own satisfaction. “It isn’t enough that I was denied command of this ship—now the man who took my rightful place from me is sending me away to some other world. How can I prove my worthiness as a fleet liaison?”
Martok leaned into the viewer. “If Captain Klag feels your skills would be better suited to HuDyuQ, my son, then I will not argue with him. And if you object to the transfer, then you should do so through proper channels. I will not have you using the fact that you’re my son for your own benefit. If there is nothing else?”
Drex growled deep in his throat. There were a great many other things he wanted to ask. But he said only, “No, Father. I’m sorry I bothered you.”
“You may contact me this way any time, Drex.” Martok hesitated, then: “You are still my son. Nothing willchange that. I will die for you, and I would expect you todo the same for me. But I expect you to find your ownhonor. And, Drex?”
“Yes, Father?”
“You don’t have to prove your worthiness to anyone.You just have to do your duty, whether it’s on the Gorkon or on HuDyuQ. The rest of it will take care of itself.”
“Father, why did you make that petaQ part of our House?”
The words came out in a rush, and Drex wished he could have called them back. It was the one question he desperately wanted answered, yet the one question he could not ask.
But now he had asked it.
“I assume you mean Worf,” Martok said dryly. “Youobjected to my bringing him into the family from thebeginning.”
“I never said anything, Father, but—”
“You did not need to. Your attitude spoke volumes.” Martok sighed. “I know what happened between you onDeep Space Nine, my son. But what you must understandis that Worf saved more than my life—he saved my honor.And his disgrace from the empire was due to his opposingan action that was engineered by that—that creature thattook my place.”
“He betrayed the empire, Father—twice!”
“He accepted discommendation the first time to protect the empire. He accepted the second disgrace becausehe could not support an action that he thought woulddestroy us. He has always been loyal to our people, eventhough he was not raised among us. He has proven hisworth, to me, and to the empire.” Martok leaned forward again. His voice deepened into an almost-growl. “Whichis more than you have done, my son. You have been given every opportunity. I suggest that you stop whining aboutthe inequities of life, go to HuDyuQ, and start takingadvantage of those opportunities. Screen off.”
Drex stared at the blank screen for several minutes.
Then he went to pack his belongings for the trip to HuDyuQ.
Leskit started to put the neckbone necklace over his head, then changed his mind. Perhaps it’s time I stopped wearing the trophies of a war that has ended. He started to pack it with his other belongings. Then he remembered what Kurak had said about how seeing the necklace made her feel.
Then he remembered what Kurak had done after she said that.
With a smile, he put the necklace on over his head.
The door chime rang. “Enter.”
Kurak came in. To Leskit’s dismay, she looked—well, the way she always looked, except for those few glorious hours in her quarters. “You’re leaving,” she said in an almost accusatory tone.
“Yes. I’m on the transport going to HuDyuQ so I can report to the Rotarran.”
“You didn’t tell me you were leaving.”
Leskit frowned. “Didn’t I? I suppose not. I have to confess, it wasn’t foremost in my thoughts. Does it matter? Even if this assignment wasn’t temporary, I might’ve been transferred anyhow. It happens.”
Kurak let out a long breath through her clenched teeth. It made a slight whistling sound. “Perhaps.”
“No ‘perhaps’ about it.” Leskit grabbed her shoulders. “Kurak, we’re in the Defense Force. We go where we are told. That is the way of things.”
“So your pursuit of me was, what? A desire to get through the shielding of the impenetrable engineer? A wager among the bridge crew, perhaps?”
Leskit looked down at Kurak’s brown eyes, which blazed with the fire that had attracted her to him in the first place. “No. I simply saw someone I wanted to pursue, and pursued her. No more, no less.”
“And now that you’ve gotten me, you’re casting me aside?”
Rolling his eyes, Leskit let go of her shoulders and stomped across the room. “I don’t believe this! Don’t tell me you’re going to insist that we take the oath or something equally ridiculous. For one thing, I’m mated, remember? The fact that she and I haven’t spoken since the night our son was conceived doesn’t change that.”
Kurak shook her head and gripped her arm at the wrist. “I should have known better. I told myself to simply serve and get out as soon as possible. To form no attachments. Instead, this happens. This is why I didn’t want to join in the first place.”
Walking back to her, Leskit said, “Kurak, it was what it was. We both enjoyed it. Perhaps we’ll have the chance to do it again.” He broke into a grin. “At least I hope so.”
Kurak stared up at him. Her face seemed to be warring with itself, fighting it out between a scowl and a laugh.
After several seconds, to Leskit’s relief, the lau
gh won. “What shall I do with you, Lieutenant?”
“That depends, Commander. What are you doing for the next few hours?”
“I’m on duty, I’m afraid. My assistant has been promoted to emperor,” she said bitterly, “and while I’m happy to be rid of that toDSaH, he’s the second engineer I’ve lost on this mission. I’m shorthanded, so I need to get back to engineering for several hours. When does the transport leave?”
Leskit shook his head. “Less than several hours from now.”
“Pity.” And now she smiled that smile that Leskit was sure he was the only person on the ship to ever have seen. “Perhaps some other time.”
“Perhaps.”
“Or perhaps I will curse your name and never speak to you again.”
Laughing, Leskit said, “I believe that’s what my mate said to me the last time we spoke.”
“A wise woman, I’d say.” She moved back to the door. “Good-bye, Leskit.”
“Good-bye, Kurak.”
She left without a backward glance, no doubt to terrorize the remaining engineers. Leskit wondered if he’d ever see her again, and how she would feel. He suspected that neither of them would know the answer to that until it happened.
Ah, well, he thought, fingering the Cardassian neckbones he wore. It was worth it to hear her laugh.
Re’Trenat had to admit to liking the idea of being a minister. In fact, Prime Minister em’Rlakun had insisted that re’Trenat be given a ministry. Governor Tiral objected, of course, but Ambassador Worf pointed out that the Klingons no longer had any say in the matter—although the appointment would have to, technically, come from Emperor Vall.
Everyone insisted that Vall was a Klingon, but re’Trenat almost didn’t believe it. He didn’t look or talk like any Klingon he’d seen, and he’d seen plenty.
The new emperor strode into the council chamber holding several padds and looking lost inside his thermal suit—it looked like he had taken Tiral’s. In any case, it was several sizes too large. The other ministers were already present, and hadn’t bothered to wait for him before starting business—his was only a ceremonial presence after all.
DIPLOMATIC IMPLAUSIBILITY Page 20
