Diplomatic Implausibility (Star Trek: The Next Generation Book 61) by DeCandido Keith R. A

Author:DeCandido, Keith R. A.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pocket Books/Star Trek
Published: 2001-07-07T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

WORF OBSERVED THE WRECKAGE of a topaline refinery through the viewscreen of Governor Tiral’s shuttle. Most of the roof of the massive, rectangular structure was gone, exposing the inside to the elements. Green emergency lights still lit parts of it, illuminating the shattered machinery that lay strewn about those floors that remained intact—a large hole had been made through three levels. Worf saw al’Hmatti workers scurrying back and forth trying to survey and repair the damage, many at the direction of thermal-suit-wearing Klingons. Several other shuttles flew in and out of the area, evacuating injured personnel and bringing in repair crews.

“What was it you said, Ambassador?” Tiral said angrily. “That the rebels were keeping a low profile because you and the Gorkon had arrived?”

“That was speculation on my part,” Worf said calmly. “Obviously, that speculation was erroneous.”

“Obviously,” Tiral said.

Worf, Drex, and Krevor had beamed over to the governor’s satellite as soon as Wu had advised them of the attack. On their arrival, Drex had commenced his new duties as Tiral’s temporary aide, and Worf and Krevor accompanied the governor to survey the destroyed refinery. Tiral saw no reason for the ambassador to go, but Worf insisted.

Worf was getting tired of having to insist every time he gave an order.

The shuttle pilot said, “Lord Governor, I have Supervisor Grul.”

Tiral nodded. “On screen.”

The visage of an older woman appeared on a small screen to the right of the flight console. For the first time since Worf had met him, Tiral’s pudgy face softened. “What happened, Grul?”

“What in Kahless’s name do you think happened, you stupid petaQ? Damned rebels is what happened. Did they take your brains when they made you governor?” She looked at Worf, standing next to Tiral. “Who’s that?”

“This is Worf, the Federation ambassador. This is what the High Council finally sent in reply to my calls for help.”

Grul snorted. “About time the Federation showed some sense and got another Klingon to be ambassador. Well, let me tell you what will solve the problem, boy—crush the damned rebels.”

“One cannot crush what cannot be found,” Worf said neutrally.

“Yeah, well, wish I could help you there.”

“What happened, Grul?” Tiral asked again.

“They came out of nowhere. One minute we’re processing the latest batch from the southern tap, the next there’s a bunch of al’Hmatti with shaved cheeks all over the place. No warning, no alarms, nothing until after they were deep inside. One of them planted a bomb. Kiln and Takus tried to disarm the thing, but they couldn’t do it. And if those two couldn’t, nobody could.” She sighed. “Now they never will.”

Tiral growled. “They died well, at least.”

Grul waved her right arm in a dismissive gesture. “Bah. They’re probably already in Sto-Vo-Kor, getting drunk.”

Worf scowled. “And there was no sign of how they penetrated your security, nor where they went after they planted the bomb?”

“That’s what I meant when I said, ‘They came out of nowhere,’ boy,” Grul snapped.

Letting the comment go, Worf asked, “Any prisoners?”

“None breathing. They killed four others, too—three guards and one of my supervisors.

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