Diplomatic Implausibility (22 page)

“With respect, sir,” Klag’s guard said, “I will when they do.”

Tiral gestured to his guards, who lowered their pistols. Only then did Krevor and Klag’s guard do likewise. Klag’s guard even offered Tiral his
tik’leth
back.

Ignoring the offer, Tiral instead turned his corpulent form toward Worf. “I do not acknowledge your authority over me, Ambassador. I will go to the High Council!”

“The same High Council that you have been appealing to for months?”

Tiral said nothing, though he looked like he had just swallowed dead
racht.

Worf did not let up. “The same High Council that said it would abide by my decision in this matter? The same High Council that has already approved my proposal?”

Tiral snarled. “Damn you . . .”

Worf stood up and took the
tik’leth
from Klag’s guard and held it before Tiral. “The purpose of this meeting,
Governor, was to provide you with information, not to invite debate. The decision has already been made. All that is left for you is to decide whether to face this news honorably.”

Tiral snatched the sword out of Worf’s hands and held it to Worf’s neck. Worf did not budge.

“You may, of course, try to kill me,” Worf said calmly. “But I doubt that will do much for your future prospects. Especially since there are people in this room who will die to protect me.”

Still holding the sword to Worf’s neck, Tiral said in a whisper, “Do you realize what you have
done?
It is not enough that you are replacing me with that
toDSaH
over there.” He indicated Vall with a jerk of his head. “But there are
people
on taD, Ambassador—people who have dedicated their lives to the mines down there, to bringing topaline to the empire. Some have died for it! And now they are having their lives uprooted in order to accommodate the wishes of
jeghpu’wI’.
What am I to tell
them,
Ambassador?”

“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.”

“Y
OU WISHED TO SEE ME
, C
APTAIN
?”

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 transfer
ring 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
Rotar
ran,
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 privi
leges,
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. Gowron
showed me the recording of the event himself. Dozens of
warriors fired on it with disruptors set on maximum. It
couldn’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 will
change that. I will die for you, and I would expect you to
do the same for me. But I expect you to find your own
honor. 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.
“You
objected to my bringing him into the family from the
beginning.”

“I never said anything, Father, but—”

“You did not need to. Your attitude spoke volumes.”
Martok sighed.
“I know what happened between you on
Deep Space Nine, my son. But what you must understand
is that Worf saved more than my life—he saved my honor.
And his disgrace from the empire was due to his opposing
an action that was engineered by that—that creature that
took my place.”

“He betrayed the empire, Father—twice!”

“He accepted discommendation the first time to pro
tect the empire. He accepted the second disgrace because
he could not support an action that he thought would
destroy us. He has always been loyal to our people, even
though he was not raised among us. He has proven his
worth, to me, and to the empire.”
Martok leaned forward again. His voice deepened into an almost-growl.
“Which
is more than you have done, my son. You have been given
every
opportunity. I suggest that you stop whining about
the inequities of life, go to HuDyuQ, and start taking
advantage 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.