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“You lie. You are a Federation diplomat—you won’t torture me. You are soft and weak and have no taste for blood.”

“Don’t I?”

Something in the ambassador’s tone made Kl’rt hesitate. That, and the pain he still felt in his face, most of which was now localized in his jaw and right cheek.

But it did not matter. “Do your worst, traitor. Rov is no fool. I could tell you nothing even if I wished to. I do not have the information you seek. If there is a device such as that you asked of, I have not been informed of its location. And even if I had been, I would never reveal it to you. It does not matter if you slice off my arms and legs, if you leave me suffering for all eternity, if you cast me onto the Barge of the Dead yourself, I will say nothing!”

Kl’rt stared directly into the traitor’s brown eyes, refusing to give in, refusing even to blink. I will not let you down, Rov. I believe in our cause, and will die for it—or, if the traitor will resort to such tactics, I will suffer for it, too.

Finally, Worf looked away. “I believe you.”

That caused Kl’rt to blink in surprise. “What?”

“However, your response is no longer relevant. I already have all the information I need. Rov has just broadcast his demands to the Great Hall. In addition, I have the positions of all of your fellow terrorists.”

Only then did Kl’rt realize why Worf had looked away from Kl’rt’s gaze. It was not a show of cowardice or of defeat. The ambassador was simply showing Kl’rt that he was now wearing the earpiece that had been assigned to Kl’rt. No! How could I have been so stupid?

“At first, I thought I would require your intelligence, as Rov had changed frequencies when they discovered that your body was not among the corpses on the second floor. However, a few minutes ago, my tricorder was able to determine the frequency, and I have heard everything Rov has said.”

In the brief time that Kl’rt had served at the embassy, he had never once seen the ambassador smile. Indeed, his lack of true passion was one of many things that branded him as a false Klingon.

Now, though, Kl’rt saw Worf smile. It wasn’t an especially broad one. His lips just curled upward a bit. Still, based on his usual, that was the equivalent of a wide grin, and it was the first thing Kl’rt had seen since waking up in this room that truly scared him.

“I therefore have no further use for you.”

Fully expecting to be shot, Kl’rt was surprised to see Worf pocket the phaser. “What are you doing?”

“I am leaving. I must take back the embassy.”

Again, Kl’rt laughed. “By yourself?”

“Yes.”

“You really are a fool.”

“I have little choice. The empire will not negotiate with terrorists, and no aid from the Federation can possibly arrive in time. Even if it could, I doubt that Martok would allow Starfleet to take any unilateral action without his approval. He will destroy the embassy and all those inside it before allowing himself to be extorted by bloodworms such as yourself.”

Shaking his head, Kl’rt said, “You will not succeed.”

“You would be wise to hope that I do, Kl’rt, son of Krul. For my success is the only hope for your rescue.” He pointed to the open lift doors and the shaft beyond it. “That turboshaft is the only means in or out of this room. Only two people in the empire know of this room’s existence—three, including you—and I am the only one of those two who knows that you are here. If I am successful, I will come back for you. If I am not, you will live out your days in this room. There are no weapons here, nothing with which you will be able to take your own life, nor is there any food or water—you will be forced to waste away like an old woman, and then stumble your way to Gre’thor like the honorless petaQ you truly are.”

With that, Worf turned and entered the turboshaft.

Panic slicing into his chest, Kl’rt leapt to his feet once more and ran for the doors, trying to stop Worf from shutting them.

He reached the entryway just as the doors slammed shut with a most resounding thud.

Placing the tips of his fingers at the seam of