Diplomatic Implausibility Read Free Page A

Klag said.
    Eight seconds later, Rodek reported the third ship destroyed.
    Klag nodded. “Excellent.” Cheers came from all around the bridge.
Our record of battle shall begin with a
victory,
Klag thought,
if a relatively easy one.
It was the first true test of the
Gorkon’s
capabilities, and Klag was mostly happy with how his crew had performed.
    “Incoming message from Governor Tiral,” Toq said, and his voice served to dim some of the cheers.
    “On screen.”
    A round face appeared on the viewscreen, matching that in the records of Governor Tiral. He sat in the midst of a certain amount of chaos in what Klag assumed to be the operations center of the satellite. Behind the governor, Klingons barked orders to what looked like quadrupedal beings—the al’Hmatti. Some of them walked on all fours, others on their hind legs while operating consoles and machinery or carrying things with their forelegs. Some operated machinery with their hind legs, which seemed to be as prehensile as their forelegs. Few wore any kind of clothing, covered as they were in light-colored fur.
    “I am Klag, commanding the
I.K.S. Gorkon.”
    Eyebrows raised, Tiral said,
“The son of M’Raq? Hero
of Marcan V?”
    Klag basked in the recognition. “The same.”
    “It is an honor, Captain. I am Governor Tiral—and I
thank you for your aid. I don’t know how those rebels got
their hands on so many ships, but I intend to find out.”
    “Do you require any other assistance, Governor?”
    “Not for the station, no. We have become quite adept
at repairs of late,”
Tiral said with a snort.
“I don’t sup
pose I could convince you to remain here for a few
months?”
    “Not at present. We are en route to the Homeworld following our shakedown cruise.”
    “Ah, so you’re on one of the new ships. Well, congrat
ulations, Captain. I’m glad that you, at least, have had
good fortune.”
    Tiral sounded bitter—but then, given what Klag had just finished reading about in Toq’s report, the captain couldn’t blame him. “I take it that the situation with the rebels has deteriorated?”
    “That implies that the situation was ever good to begin
with. The rebels continue to pick away at us. Worse, they
have been crying to the Federation for support, and now
there are rumors that the Federation is starting to listen.”
Tiral spit.
“The High Council, meanwhile, refuses to give
me the same consideration. My protests have fallen on
deaf ears.”
    Klag did not bother to point out that that was probably due to the fact that the Council, rebuilding the empire after the Dominion War, probably couldn’t give taD the attention its governor felt it deserved.
    However, that didn’t change the fact that taD needed some attention from the empire, especially if the Federation did get involved.
    Klag considered. The Battle of Marcan had been a decisive and important victory. Klag’s deeds that day had already been immortalized in song, and he’d been rewarded with a fine command. He’d been hailed as a hero of the empire, and there was even talk of his being inducted into the Order of the
Bat’leth.
People listened to heroes.
    “Perhaps, Governor, I can put in a good word for youwith the High Council. Mine is a more objective viewpoint. And I believe I can convince them to acknowledge your concerns.”
    “I would be in your debt if you did so, Captain Klag,”
Tiral said, sounding very much relieved.
“The support of
the Hero of Marcan may be what I need to end this insan
ity once and for all.”
    “Perhaps,” Klag said, trying not to sound too optimistic. He wasn’t sure how far his influence went, nor was he entirely sure this was the right place to wield it.
    On the other hand, it was ludicrous that mere
jegh
pu’wI’
should be able to mount so thorough an attack against their overseers. Obviously something needed to be done.
    And Klag was determined to do it.
    “I will be in touch, Governor. Screen off.” After Tiral’s face disappeared,