A Time for War, a Time for Peace - Keith R. A. DeCandido [82]
“I agree. We will, of course, get right on it.” He paused. “What of the inspection team?”
“Their work isn’t finished.” The smile came back. “Consider this assignment part of the inspection. They can see you in action.”
“Kathryn, I’m not sure that’s entirely wise. Captain Go’s team has been rather disruptive to the ship’s routine. While we’re holding station here, that’s less of an issue, but—”
“Don’t worry, Jean-Luc. Even as we speak, Captain Go is being cut new orders to continue observation and evaluation, but not to interfere with the operation of the ship. Interviews will be optional and limited to off-duty time.”
“Grand. Thank you, Kathryn. These past few weeks—months—” He leaned his head back. The bones in his neck snapped lightly. “In truth, this past year has been unduly strained. This crew deserves better.”
She nodded. “My pleasure, Jean-Luc. And I agree completely. You people have done excellent service for Starfleet and the Federation, and you deserve better than this. That’s why I’ve been pushing for your assignment to improve, and it’s why I made sure to hold the Titan for Will when he was captured on Tezwa.” With a warm smile, she said, “If there’s one thing I learned flying through the Delta Quadrant for seven years, it’s that patience pays off eventually.”
“Indeed.”
“One other thing, Jean-Luc,” Kathryn said in a quiet tone.
Picard set his tea down and leaned forward, resting his arm on the desk. “Yes?”
“Be on the lookout for Klingon ships. A few Defense Force vessels have taken it upon themselves to fire on Starfleet ships—revenge for ‘stealing’ Kahless. Chancellor Martok has promised that those ship captains will be dealt with, but there may be more like that around. Watch your back.”
“We shall. Thank you again. I will keep you apprised as to our progress.”
“I’m looking forward to your reports, Jean-Luc. Starfleet out.”
Picard switched off his screen, grabbed his teacup, and sipped its now-lukewarm contents. Though the mission was, on the face of it, a simple one, it carried huge potential. The Klingon-Federation alliance had been the cornerstone of the relative peace the galaxy had enjoyed for most of the past century—and most of the exceptions to that peace were either beyond the scope of that alliance or caused by the Dominion, and the latter was primarily defeated in the end because the two powers were united.
He tapped his combadge. “Picard to bridge.”
“Data here, sir.”
“Data, we should be receiving several files from Starfleet Command.”
“Yes, sir, we are, in code and on a secured channel.”
“Have Commander Vale decode the files, then I want all senior staff to review them for a meeting at—” He checked his chronometer, then added three hours to the time it gave. “—1700 hours.”
“Aye, sir.”
Chapter 10
Qo’noS
“I WAS NOT AWARE that the ambassador had an heir,” Councillor Qolka said as Alexander entered his office, “much less that he was a soldier of the empire. And now his lackey as well?”
Alexander did not take the bait, but instead simply stood opposite Qolka, in the spot where guest chairs would be in the Federation. Klingon officials saw no reason for their guests to be comfortable—and even if they did, the chairs would be metal slabs of some kind. I’d just as soon stand, Alexander thought.
Aloud, he said, “I’ve been temporarily assigned to the embassy until they can restaff after the attack last month.”
Qolka sat behind his desk, grabbing one of five mugs that sat on the table. Though Alexander’s olfactory senses were not as sharp as most Klingons’—and given most Klingon smells, he was more than happy to have inherited a weak nose from the human quarter of his heritage—he could definitely make out one warnog, one raktajino, and one prune juice. The latter had become a popular import item in recent years. I wonder, Alexander thought with amusement, if Qolka’s aware that it was my father who started that trend.
The mug Qolka gulped from had one of the two unidentifiable drinks—though Alexander