Star Trek The Next Generation - 39 - All Good Things... by Star Trek

Author:Star Trek
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science Fiction
ISBN: 9780671521486
Publisher: Star Trek
Published: 1994-01-02T08:00:00+00:00

... and the image of an aged Klingon supplanted the star field.

Startled, Picard looked around for an explanation— and realized that he was no longer on the Enterprise. He was on the Pasteur, in what he had come to think of as the "future."

Beverly was seated beside him. He gripped the armrest of her chair as he adjusted to the sudden shift.

It took him another second or two to recognize the Klingon on the viewscreen as Worf. The former security officer was sitting at a desk in what looked like a small, crowded office. The furniture behind him was stacked high with books and documents.

"Captain Picard," said the governor, inclining his head as a peculiarly Klingon sign of respect.

Beverly nodded. "Hello, Worf. It's been a long time."

"That it has," the Klingon agreed. "I have read your request."

He paused, as if steeling himself for his next statement. That alone suggested to Picard that the news would not be good.

"The first thing you should know," he continued, "is that I am no longer a member of the High Council."

It was true. The news was not good. If Worf had fallen from favor, their job would be that much harder.

"After I opposed our withdrawal from the Federation Alliance," the Klingon explained, "the House of Mogh was forced from power. Exiled—albeit unofficially— from the homeworld."

"I see," said Beverly. She was obviously trying to be sympathetic.

But Picard didn't see. He didn't see at all. "Worf," he pleaded, "you must still have some influence. We need your help."

The Klingon scowled in self-derision. "I am only the governor of this colony." He spoke the words as if they constituted a curse. "My powers are... mostly ceremonial." Abruptly, a strain of anger crept into his voice. "If Admiral Riker had given you a starship with a cloak, you would have been safe. I cannot believe he refused to help you."

Picard held his hands out. "I don't care what kind of ship we're in—cloaked or otherwise. The important thing is to get to the Devron system." His hands balled into fists as he pleaded his case. "Surely... even with what's happened to you... it's within your power to grant us permission to cross the border. If nothing else, at least that."

Worf looked down, then shook his shaggy head. "I am sorry, but my first duty is to the Empire. I must adhere to regulations."

The captain eyed him. He had to try a different approach.

"Maybe I'm an old man who just doesn't understand," he said. "But the Worf I knew cared more about things like loyalty and honor than he did about rules and regulations."

As he paused for effect, he saw the Klingon's head come up, so that he gazed at Picard from beneath his protruding brow. It seemed he had gotten Worf's attention.

"But then," he concluded, driving in the final stake, "that was a long time ago. Maybe you're not the Worf I knew."

He had expected to spur an emotional reaction—but he wasn't prepared for the actual violence of the governor's outburst.

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