Diplomatic Implausibility by Keith R. A. DeCandido

possess—but most Federation ambassadors hadn’t served on Klingon ships, nor had lengthy tenures in Starfleet security.
    Wu got up groggily from his bed and stood behind Worf to observe as well, pausing to retrieve the padd and place it on the table with the others. Worf had fallen asleep while working on the specifications for a portable scattering field generator—which could temporarily disable any handheld disruptor weapons within a certain radius.
    The camera was positioned just below the bridge’s viewscreen. Klag sat in his command chair, leaning slightly forward, gazing straight at the viewscreen with an eager face—appropriate for one going into battle. Drex was moving aft toward Toq’s station. Toq looked even more eager than Klag. Next to him at the gunner’s station, Rodek looked more impassive. Off to the side, Leskit looked almost bored—but Leskit always looked like that.
    “Damage report,”
Drex barked.
    “Shields holding,”
said Rodek.
“No appreciable dam
age.”
    “The ship is running away,”
Toq said.
“Course eight-
three-seven mark nine.”
    Worf called up the tactical schematics. The ship had come screaming toward the
Gorkon
at Warp 9.7, fired a salvo of phasers, then had, as Toq said, run. It had come in too fast for sensors to get a positive identification.
    Drex asked,
“Do we pursue, Captain?”
    Klag shot Drex a harsh look.
“Of course. Pilot, change
course to intercept, maximum warp. Gunner, the second
we’re in range, fire on the enemy and destroy them.”
    Leskit said,
“We will intercept in seven minutes.”
    Drex walked fore and leaned toward Klag. Speaking in a voice meant not to be heard by anyone on the bridge other than the captain, he said,
“Captain, the ambassador
may object to this course change.”
    Klag regarded his first officer with disdain.
“Let him.”
    Worf stood up.
    “Let me guess,” Wu said, “you’ll be on the bridge?”
    “Good guess,” Worf said dryly as he left the cabin.
    Krevor silently followed.
    The moment the doors parted to let Worf in, Klag, without even turning around, said, “Ambassador, this is not a good time.”
    “Have you identified the ship that fired on us?”
    Now Klag did turn. “Not yet,” he said slowly.
    “It might be wise to do so before engaging them again.”
    “Ambassador,” Klag said, standing to face Worf, “this is not your concern. We will swat this
glob
fly and resume our course to taD.”
    “Anything that affects this mission is my concern, Captain. However, this attack on the
Gorkon
cannot go unanswered. Commander Drex’s fears about my objections were unfounded.”
    Klag glowered at Worf, who simply stared back. Thecaptain seemed to want to pursue the issue—or at least question Worf about his ability to navigate the
Gorkon’s
security systems—but Worf had just given Klag what he wanted. Worf suspected that Klag had anticipated a fight.
    Perhaps even desired one?
Worf wondered. Klag had looked decidedly unhappy when Martok announced that Worf commanded the mission.
    Leskit interrupted: “Less than a minute to intercept.”
    Klag turned from Worf and sat back in the command chair. “Rodek?”
    From behind Klag, the man who was once Worf’s brother said, “Disruptors ready, Captain. Awaiting target.”
    Worf’s heart sank. Rodek spoke with an appalling lack of passion. Worf remembered serving with Kurn on the
Hegh’ta
during the civil war between Gowron and Duras’s sisters. He had a fire, a passion for combat that did Worf proud.
    “In range,” Toq said eagerly.
    “Weapons firing.” Rodek sounded barely interested in the concept. “They have dropped out of warp.”
    “Stay with them, pilot,” Klag said.
    “It is a Kreel vessel, Captain,” Toq said.
    Worf blinked. Even if he had objected to this diversion, that objection would be gone the minute he learned it was Kreel they faced. That race of carrion-pickers had been at odds with the Klingons for centuries. They were like Earth