“I had thought that I escaped Chang’s disgrace after the near-disaster at Khitomer. Instead, I was passed over for promotion repeatedly, given the worst assignments in the office of legalities, cases that one gave to a novice advocate. It was made clear to me that Chancellor Azetbur knew of my role in the cover-up of her father’s death, however tangential.” He forced down the last of his warnog.“As I said, I am no warrior. I could have challenged those who insulted my honor by treating me this way, but all that would do is deprive my son of his father, my mate of her husband. So I obeyed. And I continued to obey until enough time passed, Azetbur fell from power, and I became a general. Now I represent the Empire on the day of one of its most historic moments. I came to this by obeying my superiors, Lorgh.” Worf had been looking at the representation of the Betreka Nebula on the viewscreen during his entire diatribe. Now heturned and fixed Lorgh with what he hoped was a penetrating glance. “If I wished to disobey, I would have done so much sooner than this.”
Lorgh said nothing in response to that—at first. The general took advantage of the silence to grab a handful of gagh.
Finally Lorgh asked, “How did you know, sir?”
Still deferential, eh, Lorgh?Worf smiled at that. “How did I know what?”
“You said you knew that Kirk and McCoy were innocent of killing Chancellor Gorkon.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I could see into the humans’ hearts. Kirk was a warrior born, not one to hide behind assassins. If he wished the chancellor dead, he would have faced him like a Klingon. As for McCoy, he had no heart for such things. It was not within him to kill, whether face-to-face or in the shadows. No, only a fool would think them capable of such an act.” Now, he scowled. “The galaxy, however, is full of fools. That one, for instance.” He pointed at the Trill ambassador, who was now holding forth with Captain Qaolin and Commander Garrett.
“You mean the great Curzon Dax?”
To Worf’s disgust, Lorgh spoke with what sounded like genuine reverence. Then again, disguising his true feelings is part of what he does. I can only pray that it is so here, or I will be forced to think even less of him.“Great by his own lights, perhaps, but not mine. He is an opportunist who has taken advantage of warriors of lesser intellect and great ego to insinuate himself into Klingon society—all in aid of furthering his cause as a diplomat.”
“Should he not use all the tools at his disposal? Besides, he respects our ways as few outsiders do.”
“Believe that if you may,” Worf said disdainfully as Dax let out one of his belly laughs—ostentatious by Trill standards, though weak by Klingon ones. “For my part, I would rather the Federation had sent Riva.” The general grinned. “He, too, is an arrogant petaQ,but with that chorus he carts around, he at least makes a better show of it.”
“More theatrical, sir?” Lorgh also grinned. “I was not aware that you were a proponent of such things.”
“The courtroom and the negotiating table are as much theater as they are battlefield, Lorgh.”
“That is very true, sir, as I have learned in my service.”
Lorgh implied that it was his service to Worf, but the general knew he meant otherwise. But why court eavesdroppers?“Of course.” Then again, why let him pretend he is what he is not?“You may reassure your superiors, Lorgh, that I will do all that I can to make sure that Ch’gran is not soiled by Cardassian filth.”
“Ch’gran must be preserved, it’s true,” Lorgh said, “but so must the Empire. A full-scale war right now would be unwise.”
“I.I. preaches that we shirk battle?” Worf asked, feigning surprise.
“The High Council preaches that we fight this battle at the negotiating table.”
Worf’s instinct was to simply fight and be done with it—but he thought that secure in the knowledge that he would not be among those fighting. No,he thought, I will continue to obey as ever I have done. Let others dictate where thed’k tahg is to be thrust. I am content simply to be the blade.
The Klingon general was deep in conversation with one of his aides, so Dax instead approached Captain Qaolin, who was chatting with Commander Garrett. That’s a good sign,he thought. It’d be a better sign if all the Cardassians weren’t on the other side of the room, but a high-ranking Klingon having a pleasant conversation with a high-ranking Starfleet officer is never a bad thing.
For Dax’s part, he thought that joining the chat wasn’t a bad thing either, especially when that high-ranking officer happened to be a devilishly attractive woman. Rachel Garrett had a most pleasant face—it wasn’t what Dax would call conventionally attractive, but her soft skin combined with a pair of penetrating brown eyes to make for a face Dax wouldn’t have minded getting to know the person behind a lot better.
“Ah, you are Curzon Dax?” Qaolin said.
“Indeed I am, Captain.”
Qaolin gave a small bow. “I am honored. I served with Captain Koloth, and he spoke highly of you.”
“Koloth speaks highly of few save Koloth in my experience, Captain, so the fact that he spoke highly of another in your presence is flattery indeed.” He held up his warnog,which was among the worst replicated beverages he’d ever had. I knew I should have had some shipped in from Qo’noS.“To Koloth.” After choking down the drink, he asked, “How is the mad old razorbeast?”
Laughing, Qaolin said, “Mad and old as ever. He won’t die, though.”
After sipping her own drink—bourbon, from the smell of it—Garrett asked, “Has anyone tried to aid him in that process?” She smiled knowingly.
“Oh, many have tried to send his soul to Sto-Vo-Kor,Commander, believe me. None have lived to make a second attempt. It is perhaps less accurate to say that he won’t die—more that no one has been worthy of performing the deed.”
“Most definitely,” Dax said with a grin.
The captain regarded Dax. “I am glad that it is you who leads this negotiation, Ambassador. You understand the Klingon mind—and the Klingon heart.” He put a hand on Dax’s shoulder. “I know that you will return Ch’gran to its rightful place.”
“What I will do, my friend, is preserve the peace. But you can be assured that I will not do so at the expense of Klingon honor.”
Qaolin smiled. “I can ask no more. Qapla’,Dax.”
With that, the captain excused himself to talk to one of the other Klingons.
“I thought for sure he was gonna head-butt you,” Garrett said with a grin. Dax noted that Garrett had an unusually wide smile for her face, and the grin completely changed the structure of her visage. Among other things, it changed her eyes from intelligent to mischievious.
“It was a risk,” Dax said with mock gravity.
Garrett swallowed the rest of her bourbon, then shook her head. “Next time, I use my own sour mash.”
Dax let out a laugh at that. “It couldn’t be any worse than the warnog.I’m wondering if perhaps we’d have been better off not replicating everything.”
“Perhaps. Do you really think you can do this?”
Blinking, Dax said, “Do what?”
Garrett gestured at the Cardassian legate and then at the Klingon general. “This. What you told Qaolin you could do. The Cardassians have a legitimate claim, and the only reason the Klingons even know about it is because they were spying.”
“True, and if it were just a simple case of finding a wreck, I’d agree with you. What you must understand, my dear, is that Ch’gran is one of the sacred stories of the Emp—”
“I’m fully aware of the spiritual significance the Klingons put on this lost colony, Ambassador.” Garrett spoke snappishly, and Dax realized that he perhaps should not have put on his patronizing tone when speaking to a commander whose service record included more than one trip to Qo’noS. “Gul Monor found the functional equivalent of an old burial ground. Even so, there are such things as salvage rights.”