Star Trek - Diplomatic Implausibility Part 7

Worf leaned back in his chair. "Really? And why wouldn't you be?"

Krevor frowned. "Sir?"

"Are you not a loyal soldier of the empire, the same as the others who serve on this vessel?"

She straightened. "Of course, sir!"

"Then if I did request another, why would this not insult you? If I were in your place, I would not suffer such an offense lightly."

"That is not what I meant, sir."

"But it is what you said."

Now Krevor started to shift her weight from foot to foot. "May I speak freely, sir?"

Worf nodded.

"I believe that Commander Drex gave this a.s.signment to me in order to give you offense. I merely did not wish you to suffer it needlessly."

Worf regarded her. "Why would you in particular give me offense? We have never met. Our Houses cannot be in conflict, since Commander Drex and I are both o f the House of Martok.

If any such conflict existed, he would have addressed it by now."

Krevor blinked in surprise. "No, sir. I have no House. That is why I joined the Defense Force-to make my own honor, since I cannot take refuge in the honor of my House." Unlike her offering of her life, this statement was said with feeling. "I simply meant that he gave the a.s.signment to a female, sir."

"You are quite presumptuous, Krevor. You a.s.sign motives to your superior officer. You presume that I am incapable of detecting those motives myself. And you think me to be ignorant."

"Sir?"

"Did Lukara not fight alongside Kahless at Qamchee? Was Melota not Aktuh's equal in battle? Did Azetbur not finish the work begun by her father, for whom this ship was named?" Worf stood up and faced the young woman. "The body is but a sh.e.l.l. If you have the heart of a warrior, it does not matter the form that contains that heart."

Krevor closed her eyes. "I have committed the very offense I sought to spare you. I offer my life in rest.i.tution."

Worf shook his head. "Your life was mine the moment you received this a.s.signment. For me to take it now would be-wasteful. Return to your post."

If Krevor felt relief at her life being spared, she did not show it.

Instead, she simply said, "Yes, sir," turned around, and exited the room.

As the doors closed, Wu let out a small chuckle. "Klingon s.e.xism-gotta love it."

Sparing Wu a mild glare, Worf called up Krevor's record. She, indeed, had no House, having been raised in a brothel, the daughter of a deceased harlot and one of her customers. When she had reached the Age of Ascension, she joined the Defense Force. Her ign.o.ble birth had left her no chance of being an officer, but she did not let that stop her.

Now there were layers to Drex's insult. Besides being a female, Krevor was also a reminder that the House of Mogh into which Worf had been born no longer existed, thanks to Worf's own actions. If not for Martok, Worf would still have no House.

But I will not do him the honor of acknowledging it, Worf thought as he turned to the computer station on the desk. Besides, Krevor's record was excellent. She'd served well during the war, and even gained a commendation -no small feat for a House-less provincial. That she had overcome the obstacles of her birth spoke well of her.

Worf doubted Drex would appreciate that.

Klingon ships did not come equipped with windows, so Worf programmed his computer station to provide a view of the Enterprise and the Sword of Kahless as they went into warp-the former on a heading that would take it to Starbase 10 near the Romulan border, the latter toward Qo'nos. After a moment, the Gorkon did likewise, heading for tad.

Worf's Starfleet career had been like an opera, whose overture had been his acceptance into the Academy. The songs included battles against foes ranging from the omnipotent Q to the relentless Borg to the ruthless Jem'Hadar. He had visited dozens of parallel universes, survived torture at the hands of both Romulans and Breen, and held the legendary Sword of Kahless. He had gained friends, lost comrades, and met the brother he never knew he had. He had witnessed the "rebirth" of Kahless as a clone, and helped install him as emperor. He had twice survived exile from his own people.

He had killed a chancellor in honorable combat and named his successor.

He had seen two mates die. He had raised a son.

Our triumph on Carda.s.sia was truly the final song, Worf thought.

Everything since-the farewell party on DS9, seeing my parents and Jeremy on Earth, traveling on the Enterprise -have been the curtain calls.

Now the performance has ended. It is time to begin a new saga.

He shut off the computer station.

Chapter Three.

If Leskit had known that B'Elath would sing all fifteen verses of "The Campaign at Kol'Vat," he'd have eaten dinner in his quarters.

Shortly after the shakedown cruise had commenced, it became a tradition on the Gorkon for someone to sing before the evening meal. Leskit generally didn't object to this, as long as the song was decent and short.

"The Campaign at Kol'Vat" was neither. It told of a battle at Goqlath Castle in Kol'Vat, in which the hero Krim enabled his forces to storm the castle by slitting the throats of the castle guards during a moonless night. Some said that it was from the stories of Kol'Vat that the saying, "Four thousand throats may be cut in one night by a running man" derived, though many linguists felt that the quote predated both the song and the campaign.

Leskit had never liked the song or the saying-he'd seen the ruins at Kol'Vat, and at most they would have had two hundred guards, not four thousand, and then only if they stood crammed side by side. The tune was rote, the rhymes were pedestrian, the meter was stultifying-and B'Elath, one of the engineers, was also a terrible singer.

Worse, dinner would not be served until she finished the fifteenth verse.

Leskit looked around, surprised to see that neither Klag nor Drex had joined them. The captain and first officer were by no means required to dine with the troops, but over the past month one of them always did, if not both. The amba.s.sador hadn't joined them, either, but Worf hadn't attended troop dinners when he served as first officer on the Rotarmn during the war, so Leskit hadn't expected that.

The pilot stroked his white beard, which he had trimmed to resemble a pair of horns pointing downward. He had to admit to some amus.e.m.e.nt at Worf's appointment. He was very curious to see how this mission would turnout.

Kurak wasn't present, either, but Leskit had come to expect that. The chief engineer always ate in her cabin. A pity, he thought. There's fire in that one. So far, though, Leskit hadn't been able to warm his hands in that fire. But he had hope.

Just as Leskit was about to give up and follow Kurak's example, B'Elath sang the longed-for final verse, the warriors in the mess hall cheered-No doubt, Leskit thought, grateful that this particular nightmare is over-and several people brought the dinner out.

Right away, Leskit's mood improved. He had always considered himself something of an epicure, and years of service had led him to expect horrendous food from Defense Force replicators. But the food on the Gorkon had become quite good over the last month.

Leskit grabbed some bregit lung, a handful of gagh, and some rokeg blood pie, and took a seat at the small table where his shift of the bridge crew generally sat. Rodek and Toq were already there-as was, to Leskit's dismay, Vail.

Leaving aside Vail-which Leskit was happy to do in any case-the three of them made an odd combination. Toq was young, relatively short, but well-built. His beard was unformed and unshaped, as if he hadn't figured out what to do with it. Yet, for all that he looked like he'd just stumbled out of Defense Force Training a week ago, he moved with a warrior's confidence, as Kegren had learned to his dismay. He had made himself third in command of the ship.

Rodek, on the other hand, had all the markings of a warrior. He wore a simple mustache beginning above the corners of the mouth and curling down in a crescent shape. Half the men on the ship wore that, including Drex. Rodek was tall, broad, and carried the weight of his years. Yet he never displayed any of the pa.s.sion Leskit would have expected.

As for Leskit himself, he was old for his rank, but he did not care.

Rank was not for him; he knew that none would follow him into battle.

His lot was to be led, not to lead, and so he remained a pilot. He fully expected to die a lieutenant, and he was content with that, as long as the death was in battle.

Biting off a talon of pi pius claw, Toq said, "This will be a glorious mission."

"How's that, Toq?" Rodek asked. "We're just going back to tad."

"Yes, but look who we serve with! Already blessed with the Hero of Marcan and the son of Martok, now we have the n.o.ble Worf on board!"

Leskit rolled his eyes. "Worf is a Klingon like the rest of us."

"Less than the rest of us," Rodek said. "He lives with the Federation."

"I wouldn't go that far," Leskit said. "I served with him during the war. He's as fine a warrior as you'll find."

As he slathered grapok sauce on his racht, Toq said, "He is more than that. He rescued me and many others from Carraya. He taught us the Klingon ways."

"Didn't you know them already?" Vail asked.

Toq shook his head. "We were very young when we crashed. I owe Worf more than my life-I owe him my heritage."

"What does he know of our heritage?" Rodek asked with obvious disdain.

"Enough to tell us of Kahless, and the true meaning of being a warrior.

Enough to teach me of the hunt. Enough to tell me who I was. I would not be here if not for him."

Rodek shrugged and bit through the heart of a targ. "I could say the same, I suppose. He rescued my shuttle when it crashed near that Federation outpost by the Bajoran wormhole. But I don't let that distract me from the truth."

Toq glared at the gunner. "And what truth is that?"

"That he remains in the Federation. Wears their colors. They may be our allies, but they are sheep. How can a true warrior live among such as them?"

"He is a true warrior, make no mistake of that," Toq said, throwing his racht back onto his plate, splattering grapok sauce all over the table.

"You yourself said you only knew about being a warrior from him," Rodek said, and Leskit had to admit that the gunner had a point.

Toq smiled. "I don't think Kegren has any doubts about my skills as a warrior, Rodek. Or would you like to find out for yourself?"

Les kit rolled his eyes. "Will you two calm down, please? We're trying to eat. Besides, splattered blood will ruin the taste of my dinner."

Vail spoke up in that Ferengi-like whine of his, which was almost enough to put Leskit off his feed. "Actually," he said, "Worf was raised in the Federation. Until they made him amba.s.sador, he was highly decorated by Starfleet."

"Decorated for what? Charting solar systems?" Rodek said with a sneer while wiping his hands on his uniform.

"No, he fought against the Borg, the Carda.s.sians, the Romulans, the Jem'Hadar, the Ferengi, the Tamarians," Vail said in a cadence-free drone. "He was one of the first people ever to see a Borg. He helped rescue Captain Picard after the Borg captured him, as well. He's-"

"Enough!" Leskit cried. "I like to sleep after dinner, Vail, not before I've finished it."

"None of that explains why he joined Starfleet," Rodek said.

Vail said, "His family was killed at the Khitomer ma.s.sacre, and he was rescued by a Starfleet ship. A Starfleeter raised him, and then when he was old enough, he went to their Academy."

"A debt of honor," Toq said with a nod.

Rodek looked at Vail with a questioning gaze. "Khitomer ma.s.sacre? What are you talking about?"

Leskit blinked. "Thirty years ago, Rodek. You were only a boy then, but you must have heard about it. A Romulan attack?"

"I know Khitomer is where the treaty with the Federation was signed after Praxis was destroyed, but-" Rodek hesitated. "I'm sorry, but my memory is filled with-gaps. That crash left me badly damaged. I don't remember anything of my life before then."

Toq laughed a contemptuous laugh. "And you accuse Worf of being a false Klingon? You, who have only been Klingon for a few years ."

Rodek stood, throwing his chair to the deck. The ends of his mustache flared as he cried, "I am as much a Klingon as you, boy! If you doubt it, a demonstration can be arranged."

The mess hall fell silent. Toq matched Rodek's gesture, the clattering of his own chair now the only sound in the hall. Toq stood eye to eye with the gunner. "I have already killed one fool on this ship, Rodek.

I'll be happy to make it two."

Wearily, Leskit said, "If you two are going to kill each other, just get it over with. All this yelling is adding to the headache I got from B'Elath's song."

"I thought she sang it very well," Vail said.

Leskit bit his tongue.

Toq and Rodek glowered at each other for another moment. Leskit feared that they would actually fight, meaning yet another delay in dinner while everyone watched these two idiots try to kill each other.

Then, finally, Rodek retrieved his chair and sat down. "I have no interest in the second officer's position. And Morketh isn't ready to take over as gunner just yet."

Toq laughed and also recovered his seat. "You may justify your cowardice any way you wish, Rodek. When your spine regrows, you will find my d'k tahg as eager to taste your blood as it was Kegren's."

As the pair of them went back to their food, Vail looked at Leskit.

"Lieutenant-are those real Carda.s.sian neck bones Idly, Leskit fingered the necklace made of bones that he always wore.

He had contemplated removing the trophy once the war ended, but he got a certain pleasure out of the looks he got from the younger warriors when they saw it. Vail, in fact, had that look on his face right now.

"Oh, yes," he said. "They came from real Carda.s.sians. Or at least, formerly real ones."

"Those are difficult to dislodge, from what I hear." Shaking his head, Leskit thought, A true warrior wouldn't need to add that last phrase. He took a bite of the rokeg blood pie. "This is good," he said with some surprise. He'd had blood pie his first night on the Gorkon and left it unfinished, it was so inedible. The subsequent month had dulled the bad aftertaste, and the food smelled good enough tonight that Leskit had decided to give it another shot Obviously, he thought, someone has tinkered. "A pity Kurak isn't here," he said aloud. "I'd congratulate her on the food replicators myself."

"You're wasting your time, Leskit," Rodek said. "I served with Kurak on the Lallek. You'd have a better chance " the matter anti-matter chamber."

"I'll see for myself, if it's all the same to you, Rodek."

"Actually," Vail said, while attempting to puff himself up like a beast who had cornered its prey, "I was the one who conquered the replication matrix's inability to provide proper sustenance." Then he deflated somewhat, looking more like the Grishnar cat he truly resembled. "And I would rather you did not tell Commander Kurak, since she ordered me not to."