A Time for War, a Time for Peace - Keith R. A. DeCandido [38]
“Perhaps. But the people will know the truth.”
“How, by you letting yourselves get blown up? That doesn’t prove anything.”
Rov raised the disruptor again. “Be silent, son of Worf! Your value as a hostage decreases with each word you speak.”
So much for that plan, he thought dolefully.
Turning his back on Alexander, Rov put his hand to his ear again. “Torvak, report.” A pause. “Torvak, report!”
Vark shook his head. “That young yIntagh is probably listening to that wretched opera recording of his again.”
“No doubt.” Rov spoke in a menacingly low tone. “I will get a report from him personally. Keep an eye on the prisoners. B’Eko, with me.”
With that, Rov departed, followed by the female steward.
Moments passed in silence before Wu said, “He’s going to leave the embassy before it blows up. You know that, Vark.”
What the hell is he playing at? Alexander wondered. True, Wu knew Vark, but why was he so sure that Rov was going to leave his followers behind?
Vark turned to Wu and raised his own disruptor. “Silence, human!”
“Funny, you called me ‘Giancarlo’ this morning.” This time, Wu smirked slightly.
“This morning, I had to pretend to be an employee of this embassy.”
“There was no ‘pretending’ about it, Vark. You are an employee of this embassy—though, to be fair, your job prospects after today will probably be limited.”
“I said, silence!”
One of the other humans whispered, “For Christ’s sake, ‘Carlo, shut the hell up!”
Ignoring this sage advice, Wu said, “You know I’m right, Vark. And so was Alexander. If he’s trying to overthrow the High Council, he’s not just going to blow himself up. He’s a revolutionary, not a martyr. You and these other stewards are just his cannon fodder.”
At once, Alexander saw that Wu was correct. Rov had never directly said that he was going to sacrifice his own life. Now that he looked back on the conversation, he hadn’t even committed to killing any other member of Klahb.
But the uncertainty on Vark’s face meant that, whatever Rov’s true plans were, he hadn’t shared them with the kitchen staff supervisor.
Let’s hope that’s a start, Alexander thought as he shifted position on the floor. Defense Force armor, whatever its benefits, was not designed for sitting comfortably on the floor, but he had the feeling he was going to be here awhile.
The last thing Kl’rt remembered before waking up in the empty room was killing the human.
His mission had been a simple one: to bring the traitor to the top-floor meeting room. Kl’rt considered it a great privilege to be given the honor of capturing the false one. True, Worf might have looked like a Klingon, he might have called himself “son of Mogh” as if he were a true Klingon, but Kl’rt knew better. It was like Rov told him: He was a traitor, the foulest of the foul. He was a wam serpent who had insinuated himself into the House of Martok, then helped that one-eyed coward remove Gowron from his rightful place as chancellor. And now what they did to the emperor whom Gowron had welcomed home was just despicable
.
But Rov would stop them, expose them for the petaQ they were, and Kl’rt would help him in whatever way he could.
That, at least, had been the plan.
B’Urgan had said that the device she’d fabricated would neutralize any Federation or Klingon weapons, which was why they were forced to use the weapons of the filthy Breen. But Kl’rt did not mind using them if it meant they would achieve their goal.
How, then, was I rendered unconscious?
Kl’rt remained still, but opened his eyes just enough to take in his surroundings. He was in a large windowless room. He was unbound, but lying up against one of the walls. The only distinguishing features of the room were the turbolift doors, currently open to an empty turboshaft, and the figure of Ambassador Worf standing near them. Kl’rt had memorized the embassy’s floor-plans—including the classified subbasement—but nothing