Star Trek - Diplomatic Implausibility Part 11

She sighed. "Prior to the war, I was a warp field specialist. It would not be immodest to say I was one o f the best."

"Yes, I understand that you designed the Negh'Var."

Kurak blinked. "I was the main designer, yes. My family did not approve. Both my parents, all four grandparents, and my three brothers were soldiers. I prefer working in a lab to working on a stars.h.i.+p, however, and I told them that. Repeatedly."

"I take it the war changed things."

"Wars often do," Kurak said, pausing to take another bite of the pie.

"My father threatened to banish me from our House if I did not enlist.

So I did. I was given a field commission in light of my work in s.h.i.+p design, and I spent the war holding s.h.i.+ps together while the Jem'Hadar did then-best to tear them apart."

"But the war is over, Commander. Why stay?"

"My parents, my brothers, my grandparents-they're all dead. I am the only able adult left in our House. I cannot break the tradition now-at least not until my nephews are old enough to join the Defense Force. The House of Palkar must always serve the empire," she said bitterly, quoting a line that had been drilled into her since birth. "But understand this-I will serve for as long as I must. That is all. You will cease your attempts to befriend or seduce me, and you will leave me alone." She reached for the blood pie, then glowered at it. "And my subordinates will follow my orders."

She stood up and threw the remainder of the pie across the room, narrowly missing a bekk's head.

Then she left the mess hall in search of Vail. She had had quite enough of that Lubbockian slime devil's disobedience As soon as he walked into his and Wu's quarters, Worf said, "Call up the prime minister's schedule for the last three months. Compare it to the governor's log for the same period. I wish to see how many of the tasks that Tiral has delegated to em'Rlakun have actually been performed."

Wu nodded. "Of course."

To Worf's surprise, Krevor, standing in the still-open doorway, spoke.

"Why investigate them?"

Worf regarded her. "An interesting question. Do you think I should not, Bekk?"

Krevor quickly stood at full attention. "My apologies, sir. I spoke out of turn."

"You did not answer my question. Please, come in and speak freely."

With only a hint of hesitation, Krevor entered the room, the door closing behind her. "Prime Minister em'Rlakun is obviously loyal to the empire. As is Governor Tiral."

"So you feel that my investigating them is disloyal?"

"I didn't say that, sir."

"No, but you did think it." Holding up a hand to stave off Krevor's protest, Worf added, "It is all right, Bekk. Your confusion is understandable. Prime Minister em'Rlakun does appear to be loyal. But appearances are deceiving, and I believe that she was lying to us-both regarding her loyalty, and regarding her knowledge of the rebels. I wish to confirm my suspicions."

"I have something, Mr. Amba.s.sador." Wu held up his padd. "It'll take a while to do a complete search, of course, but the governor did specifically request three months ago that the prime minister put a stop to all seditious publications. The governor, in fact, made it the parliament's top priority." He handed Worf the padd. "Since that time, the number of seditious publications has risen. Dramatically.

Now, admittedly, that could just be due to incompetence on the prime minister's part ..."

Gazing at the padd, Worf said, "Perhaps. But I doubt it. Keep searching. Meanwhile, I will investigate those rebel movement reports that em'Rlakun claimed did not help her or Tiral."

"May I be of service, sir?" Krevor asked.

Worf looked at the guard. He was tempted to make use of her-but he wasn't sure he could trust her any more than he could Tiral's guards.

Klag had made his disdain for Worf quite clear, and Krevor could be one of his agents.

"That is not necessary. You may return to your station."

Krevor nodded, and took her position outside.

Chapter Five.

"WHY is it that every time I see you, brother, you're eating something?"

Kori laughed at the image of his brother Larok, an action that caused him to spit some of his stewed bok-rat liver onto the viewscreen.

Wiping the food away with his hand didn't help-it left a liver stain right on Larok's wide forehead and the right half of his brown mane.

"Bad timing, brother."

"No, I think it's just that you're always eating. Have nothing better to do on that freezer unit of a planet?"

Again, Kori laughed. "The planet's called tad. Since you're patrolling this sector, Captain, you should know that."

It was rare that Kori got to speak in real time with his older sibling.

But Captain Larok of the I. K S. Sompek was in this sector, so instant communication was possible for a change. Since Kori had gotten the job on tad at the top aline refinery, his contact with family was sporadic.

Mostly, that was how he liked it.

"Of course, my heartfelt apologies, brother," Larok said with a small laugh. "Oh, you'll be happy to know that Command finally saw fit to send me a new gunner. She's quite a woman. You'd like her-she has hair the color of flames."

Kori leaned forward. "Sounds nice. I don't suppose you could come here and introduce me to her?"

"And risk incurring the wrath of the Hero of Marcan and the son of Martok? Not even for your libido would I do that, Kori." Frowning, Kori asked, "Martok's the new chancellor, right?"

Larok shook his head. "Sometimes, brother, I despair of you."

"I just don't follow politics." Kori shrugged. "Mine is a simple existence I wake up, Grul yells at me, I yell at the al'Hmatti, and at the end of the day, we've refined more top aline and I go to sleep."

"And no doubt you "II die in your sleep." Larok sneered as he spoke.

"If Father were alive today ..."

"But he isn't, is he? He died a glorious death fighting the Romulans.

Mother died a glorious death fighting the Carda.s.sians, and our dear sister died a glorious death fighting the Jem'Hadar. I'm sure you'll get your glorious death soon enough. And I'll be right here, eating my bok rat liver and living happily on."

"You'll suffer in Gre'thor, brother, and your life of leisure has not prepared you for living amongst the dishonored dead. We, however-"

"I know, I know," Kori interrupted, "you'll all be in Sto-Vo-Kor. The sad thing is, you really believe that."

Larok's face darkened, and he started to speak. Then he took a breath and let out another laugh. "Must we always have this argument?"

Kori shook his head. "Apparently, we must." A light on his console beeped. "I'm afraid I must go, brother. Duty calls."

"As does mine."

"And I still think you should stop by here and introduce me to that redheaded gunner of yours."

"Perhaps after the Gorkon has departed, if we're still in the sector."

"Your generosity, brother, is overwhelming. Screen off."

Larok's laughing face faded from the screen, leaving only the liver stain.

Stuffing the last of the liver into his mouth, Kori called up a status report to see why the alarm had lit. It turned out to be a minor problem with the load from the southern tap.

Thumbing the intercom, he said, "Ge'Tvrona."

An angular al'Hmarti face appeared on the screen. "Yes, Kori? What's so funny?"

The liver stain obscured ge'Tvrona's right eye, and Kori found it highly amusing for some reason. "Nothing," he said quickly, forcing a serious expression onto his face. He was a supervisor, after all.

"There's some sort of problem with the load from the southern tap. It's not going through the processor properly. See what the problem is. We haven't been late with a s.h.i.+pment yet; I don't want to start now."

"Of course."

"And when you're done, stop by my office. The s.h.i.+ft ends in an hour, and I could use some help with this last bottle of blood wine Ge'Tvrona bared his teeth. "Excellent! I look forward to it!"

"Screen off."

Kori leaned back in his comfortable chair and rested his hands on his ample belly. It'll be good to share some blood wine with ge'Tvrona.

Kori liked the al'Hmatti who worked for him, and they liked him. All in all, they weren't bad, for jeghpu'wl'.

He gazed around the tiny office that barely fit his corpulent form, the console, and the chair he sat in. It may have been small, but dammit, it was his office. And he was content. Let Lorak get himself killed out there in s.p.a.ce in the mistaken belief that there'd be a reward at the end. Dead was dead, as far as Kori was concerned. He'd rather sit here and drink blood wine with his friends.

Another alarm went off. He checked his console, but nothing was indicated. Then he realized that it was the red light over the door.

Kori had never seen that. light go off, and it took him a few moments to remember that it meant an intruder alert.

Why would we have intruders here? We're a refinery on the hind end of an ice planet that n.o.body gives a targ's hoof about.

Of course, there were all those reports about rebel activity that Supervisor Grul kept yelling at him to read. suppose I should read them at some point, but why bother? It's not as if it affects me directly.

Leaning forward in his chair, Kori went through the computer to find the procedure for what to do in case of an intruder alert.

Then he heard disrupter blasts.

At least, Kori a.s.sumed they were disrupter blasts. They certainly sounded like a blaster of some sort, but Kori didn't recognize it.

Since Kori knew every sound that every piece of machinery in the refinery made, he knew it wasn't just one of the lasers malfunctioning.

This is bad.

Suddenly, the viewscreen lit up again, this time with Takus's fa ce.

Takus was the chief engineer, and the calmest person Kori had ever met.

So the look of panic on his face rather surprised him.

"There is a bomb in the refinery, repeat, there is a bomb in the refinery! Grab a weapon and abandon the refinery-and if you see any rebel sc.u.m, shoot them on sight!"

"Rebel sc.u.m?" Kori cried, but Takus wasn't on a two way channel.

"Kiln and I are going to try to disarm it. Everyone else, get out of here-but take as many of those rebels as you can!"

"Why are rebels attacking us?" Kori asked, but Takus's face had already faded. Not that he would have answered in any case.

The power went out in the office. Since the office had no windows, the room was now plunged into pitch darkness. Kori hated the dark, and felt a panic well up inside him.

The green emergency lights went on after a moment, alleviating the panic.

But he was still frightened.

Calm down, he told himself. What would Larok do?

He thought a moment. Exactly what he was told grab a weapon and abandon the refinery.

Kori reached under the chair and grabbed the disrupter that Grul had made him keep there. Then he went to the door, opened the panel next to it, and pulled the emergency lever. The door obligingly slid open.

The corridor, like his office, was bathed in dim green light. It had been years since Kori had actually fired a disrupter, and the weapon's weight felt odd in his hand. He would have preferred to be holding one of his blood wine bottles.

Panic started to overtake him again when he realized that, if the bomb went off, he'd lose his blood wine He'd spent a fortune on it ... Stop it, he admonished himself again. Just get out of here. Worry about the rest of it later.

Turning a corner, he heard a roar. He whirled to see an al'Hmatti leaping at him. Crying out in panic, he fired his disruptor-and absolutely nothing happened.

The al'Hmatti collided with him, and they both fell to the floor. Kori couldn't breathe, as the impact had knocked the wind out of him.

Whoever this al'Hmatti was, Kori didn't recognize him. True, most of them looked more or less alike to him, but he'd never met one with the fur on its cheek shaved like that.

It climbed up onto all fours, straddling Kori. "Time to die, Klingon," it said.

Then it spasmed, glowed a dark red color, and fell on top of Kori.