Star Trek - Diplomatic Implausibility Part 14

Vail, at least, had been less irritating. He did what he was told-he had fixed M'Rep's mistake in much less time than it would have taken the late engineer to do the job right the first time-and made no suggestions for improvement. Obviously, she thought, my threats had an impact.

Now she just wanted to sleep.

So she was particularly unreceptive to the dead lingta lying across her threshold.

Long ago, the men of her province on Qo'nos would leave a game animal of some kind on the threshold of a woman they wanted to court. No one had indulged in the ludicrous practice in generations.

A padd lay on top of the deceased animal. Its screen glowed with what appeared to be verse.

To her horror, she realized it was a love poem.

Leskit, she thought, it has to be. It seems he won't take "keep away from me" for an answer.

Then she read the poem.

' arlogh nga'chuq Leskit Qongdaqdaq je' Leskit Kurak Leskit nitebha'

Leskit malrachal ngech tagh nga'chuq yiq nga'chuq ' arlogh Do'Ha' Leskit lo'lahbe'ghach Leskit Kurak couldn't help herself. She laughed.

She laughed long and hard. It was probably the worst piece of poetry ever written in all of Klingon history.

"Now that was what I was hoping for."

Kurak whirled to see Leskit standing in the hallway.

"Did you write this drivel?" she asked, trying to get her laughter under control and only partly succeeding.

"No," Leskit said with a smile. "My son wrote it."

"Your son? And his mother ... 7'

"Does not speak to me if she can possibly avoid it. But my son does, as often as he can. He's two, and there's a three-year-old he wants desperately to impress. Sadly, being two, he can't even wrestle a glob fly, much less a proper animal, so he has to settle for poetry."

Kurak held up the padd. "If this is what he's settling for, he's in deep trouble. This isn't even literate."

"I know. I can only hope that he'll learn to spell-or learn to hunt, so he won't have to spell."

"Speaking of hunting, I wasn't aware that there were wild lingta on the Gorkon."

Leskit laughed. "I'm afraid you have your a.s.sistant to blame for that one. But I did order him to replicate the beast. It was the only way to get him to do it, as he expected you to react badly." He considered. "You could still say I defeated a foe in order to lay this offering at your feet."

"This was an insane gesture, Lieutenant."

"It's an insane universe, Commander. Besides, it did what it was supposed to do."

"Make a horrible stench in my quarters?"

Again, Leskit laughed. "No, keep you in your doorway while you read the poem, so the door would stay open and I could savor your laughter.

You have a beautiful laugh, Kurak. You should employ it more often."

"I seem to recall, Lieutenant, telling you that you would cease your attempts to befriend or seduce me."

Leskit grinned. "You did say something like that. As predictions go, I thought it fairly poor."

Kurak took Leskit in. He was definitely attractive. He smelted of sweat and grime. The presence of neck bones that Leskit had himself removed from Carda.s.sian corpses sent a thrill through her. She even imagined that he had slain the lingta himself.

She looked into his eyes. "I don't know whether to kill you now or make you dispose of the lingta first."

"Dispose? And waste a perfectly good piece of meat? With your a.s.sistant's facility for replicating food, it would make a glorious meal."

"It would if lingta didn't make me ill," Kurak said.

"Ah." Leskit unholstered his hand disrupter, aimed, and fired. The lingta disintegrated in a red glow. "Problem solved, then. I believe this is the part where you kill me."

Kurak walked inside her quarters. "Perhaps later." She turned around.

Leskit still stood in the doorway. "Don't just stand there, Lieutenant, come in. A man who disposes of a lingta on the threshold deserves at least a drink."

Leskit grinned, bolstered his disrupter, and entered. The door behind him ground shut.

What are you doing, Kurak? she asked herself. You swore you wouldn't get involved with anyone. Serve until your nephews get old enough then get as far away from the Defense Force as possible. Form no attachments, make no impression, simply serve and get out.

But then she thought about how long it had been since she had laughed.

She asked the replicator for a pitcher of chech'tluth and two mugs.

Klag killed the last Jem'Hadar soldier with his mek'leth and screamed to the heavens.

Or, in this case, to the ceiling of the Gorkon's holodeck.

Defense Force vessels had only recently been equipped with holodecks.

But where Starfleet used them for a mult.i.tude of recreational and professional purposes, and the Ferengi used them for that race's two favorite pastimes, profit and s.e.x, the Defense Force employed them solely for military training.

Of course, technically, Klag wasn't reliving the Battle of Marcan V as a military exercise. He was reliving it because he enjoyed it, and because he was in a bad mood and needed cheering up.

He was the captain. He could do that.

Right now, he really needed to kill something.

And what better way than by reliving his greatest battle?

"Computer," he said, "restart program."

He stood once again on the arid plains of Marcan V, near the wreckage of the Pagh. He did not need a scanner to know precisely where he would find the crashed Jem'Hadar ship.

Klag was not happy. He was a hero of the empire. He had been fortunate enough to receive a top-of-the-line ship for his first command-a rarity for a newly promoted captain-due in part to his heroism, in part to the shortage of captains, postwar. Soon, he would be inducted into the Order of the Bat'leth.

But he was making a targ's ear of his first mission.

A Jem'Hadar materialized six feet to Klag's left, charging toward him.

With a slash of his mek'leth, Klag cut the creature's supply of the addictive ketracel-white drug and slit its throat.

It had all seemed so reasonable. After all, jeghpu'wl' were attacking on tad. Governor Tiral had no support. It was an intolerable situation, but the governor seemed powerless to do anything about it. Klag had thought he could.

Two Jem'Hadar charged at him. Klag took one down, but the other knocked him to the ground, driving the mek'leth from Klag's hand.

However, Klag was starting to wonder how much of tad's difficulties were truly due to High Council recalcitrance, and how much was the fat governor's own d.a.m.n fault. The captain began to believe that Worf's accusation of gubernatorial incompetence was completely accurate.

Klag unholstered his hand disrupter and fired on the Jem'Hadar. It disintegrated in a red glow.

Then there was Worf. For Klag to have his command undermined by that-that What is he, really? Klag asked himself. He claims that he got his position legitimately, not as a member of the chancellor's House. Riker claimed the same. But Riker is human, and Worf was raised by humans. Can they truly be trusted?

He picked up his mek'leth and killed the remaining Jem'Hadar, then killed their Vorta.

It left him unsatisfied. He'd done this too many times. He knew what to expect.

It was too easy.

"Computer, end program."

The holodeck returned to its normal grid. It occurred to Klag that he hadn't programmed the right smells. The thing he remembered most about his fight against the Jem'Hadar was the oddly appealing smell of their blood mixed with the white. The holodeck hadn't recreated that to Klag's satisfaction.

"Computer, call up image of M'Raq, son of K'Ton, from his last Defense Force service record."

An image of Klag's father appeared before the captain. It was M'Raq as Klag preferred to remember him tall, broad-shouldered, thick beard, a proud warrior, a commander, first officer on the K'mqar.

As opposed to the image of M'Raq that Klag would always remember, whether he wanted to or not stooped over, patchy white beard, dying, old, weak. Broken.

Fifteen years ago, the K'mqar had gone into battle against the Romulans. M'Raq was captured, and not allowed to die. The Romulans had tortured him, but he did not succ.u.mb. Eventually, he escaped and returned home. Since he had not actually given up any intelligence, he was given the opportunity to reclaim his honor by rejoining the Defense Force.

Instead, he had chosen to return to Qo'nos and live out his days like an invalid old woman. The very idea made Klag ill.

For over a decade M'Raq had lingered, his body slowly deteriorating, but the old man had refused to take the final step.

And for over a decade, M'Raq would not say why he chose this. Not that Klag ever really cared much. He had neither visited nor spoken to his father since he was first posted to the Pagh.

But he knew that his father was supposed to be a great warrior.

Kargan was supposed to be a good captain.

Tiral was supposed to be a competent govern or.

Worf was supposed to be qualified to do his job.

"Toq to Klag."

"Klag."

"Sir, Commander Drex is reporting from Governor Tirol's satellite."

"Put him through."

"Captain," Drex's voice said, " request permission to return to the Gorkon. think I may have found a way to locate the rebels, but I'll need the ship's sensors to do it."

"Granted. Meet me and the amba.s.sador in my office," Klag said.

"Yes, sir. Out."

"Klagtoworf."

"Go ahead," came Worf's deep voice a moment later.

"Report to my office, immediately."

"Acknowledged."

Klag was surprised. He had expected the amba.s.sador to at least ask why.

But no, Worf expects that the ship's captain has a reason for such a summons, and that he will explain it soon enough.

That annoying voice in the back of Klag's head chose that moment to speak up again So why don't you give Worf the same courtesy?

"Computer, remove image and exit."

The image of Commander M'Raq, great soldier of the empire, disappeared.

The image of M'Raq, the old man on his deathbed, remained in Klag's mind.

Worf was already waiting for him as he entered his office. "Drex," Klag said, "has a report regarding the rebels."

"Good."

Drex entered a moment later. "Report," Klag and Worf both said simultaneously. Klag glowered at Worf. Worf didn't even return the captain's gaze.

Handing Worf a padd, Drex said, "I have examined the visual and sensor records made during the attack. I noticed a similarity to something that happened during the war-specifically, on Dralnok."

"That is a Carda.s.sian planet," Worf said.

Drex nodded. "We took the planet, but one Carda.s.sian garrison eluded our patrols for days. The planet had underground tunnels that we were unaware of, and its crust was lined with a previously unknown element that our scanners couldn't penetrate. The pattern of the rebel movements is very close to what the Carda.s.sians did on Dralnok. And tad is similar to Dralnok geologically."

"You suspect that this element is in tad's crust as well?" Worf asked, looking up from the padd.

"Possibly. The element was simply given a number. But this planet has prewar sensor equipment."

Hag nodded. "The Gorkon should be able to detect this new element?"