Star Trek: The Next Generation: Diplomatic Implausibility by Keith R. A. Decandido

Author:Keith R. A. Decandido [DeCandido, Keith R. A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 2001-07-16T22:00:00+00:00

Drex was late.

Toq arrived right on time, saying that Drex would be along “shortly.” Worf was not entirely displeased, as he hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to Toq since beaming aboard.

Worf had first encountered the young man in the Carraya system. Worf had heard that there might be living victims of the Khitomer massacre—to which Worf had thought himself and his nurse the only survivors—in a Romulan prison camp in that system. Mogh, Worf’s father, was rumored to be one of them. When he arrived, Worf had discovered that the rumors were partly true: several survivors of Khitomer had been taken into Romulan space and lived on the planet, in peace, with the Romulans who had taken them prisoner—though Mogh was not among them. Worf’s father had truly died at Khitomer, as Worf had long believed. They had even raised families—in one case, the Romulan overseer had married a Klingon woman, and had a daughter.

But the Klingon children that had been raised on Carraya knew nothing of their heritage—until Worf, at this point trapped in their prison, started to teach it to them. Toq had been one of those children. Reluctantly, the Romulans had agreed to let Worf take the children who wished to leave back to the empire, on the condition that none of them reveal the truth about Carraya. Worf had created a cover story—that they had been the only survivors of a vessel that had crashed several years earlier—and had helped them reintegrate into Klingon society.

Now Toq, whom Worf had not seen since bringing the young man aboard the Enterprise, regaled him with tales of his exploits since joining the Defense Force, ending with his advancement to second officer of the Gorkon by challenging and defeating Lieutenant Kegren.

Just as he finished the tale of his promotion, the door chime went off.

“Enter,” Worf said.

Drex came in.

“You are late,” Worf said.

“I am first officer of this ship, Ambassador. Other duties commanded my attention.”

“Those duties will have to wait. From this point forward, you will be detached to Governor Tiral’s service.” Worf quickly explained about Prime Minister em’Rlakun. “As far as the governor is concerned, you are simply aiding him. However, your true purpose will be to discover the whereabouts of the rebel base. Assuming, of course,” he added, “that you are up to such a task.”

Drex growled. The first time Worf had heard that growl at Quark’s bar on Deep Space Nine, Worf had been less than impressed. It hadn’t improved with age. He sounded more like a shuttle with engine trouble than a warrior expressing displeasure.

“If you do not think me capable, Ambassador—”

“What I think does not matter. Anyone less than the first officer would be construed as an insult by Governor Tiral. Appearances must be maintained, so I have been forced to settle for you. You will report to the governor’s satellite immediately.”

Snorting, Drex turned and left Worf’s quarters.

I have done what I can, Martok, Worf thought to his House head. Either Drex will excel in this task—to spiteme, if for no other reason—or he will fail and prove hisworthlessness.

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