A Time for War, a Time for Peace - Keith R. A. DeCandido [84]
“That is ancient history—” Qolka started, but Alexander interrupted, hoping it wasn’t a mistake to do so.
“But it leads to current history. Nobody in the empire’s starving, and they haven’t been since Chancellor Kravokh’s day. We’ve got replicator technology, we’ve got access to resources that we never had before the treaty. Our ships have stronger shields, better sensors, and quantum torpedoes because of the alliance.” He pointed to the mug Qolka still held. “You’re drinking that prune juice because of the alliance. Why do you want to give that up? Why do you want to go back to the way things were?” Alexander paused a moment, then went for what he hoped was the killer ending to the rant he’d been practicing all morning. “When the Federation was the empire’s enemy, the empire was weak and cowardly. Since the alliance, the empire has just gotten stronger. You don’t win battles by retreating, Councillor.”
Qolka started to drink his prune juice, then set it down. “Truly you are a man of two worlds, Alexander, son of Worf—you talk like a human, but you speak as a warrior.” He smiled. “Tell your father that I will continue to support the alliance—for the time being.”
Alexander blinked. That was too easy. “Just like that?”
“I did say ‘for the time being,’ did I not?”
Nodding, Alexander said, “Yeah, you did.”
“When you speak to your father, be also sure to tell him that I expect not to be given reasons to change my mind.” Grinning lasciviously, he added, “And tell him I admire his taste in women.”
Again, Alexander gritted his teeth. “I’ll do that, sir. Thank you.”
With that, he left Qolka’s office. He checked the time, and saw that he had only a half hour until his next appointment, with Councillor Grevaq. This may not be as exciting as serving on the Ya’Vang, he thought, but I gotta say I’m liking this. I feel like I’m doing something good. I’m helping the Federation and the empire—and I’m helping Father.
Thinking back to the less-pleasant parts of his conversation with Qolka, he nonetheless got a warm feeling inside. And in a way, I’m helping Mother, too. I think she’d be proud of what I did today.
“Ah, Ambassador Worf. Once again you grace the Great Hall with your presence.”
His stomachs rumbling with nausea, Worf stepped into Councillor Kopek’s office. Unlike most of the other members of the High Council, who decorated their chambers sparsely if at all, Kopek made his as lavish as possible, from the Betazoid water sculpture to the targhDIr furniture to the crystal sconces for the candles that provided illumination. A Danqo tapestry decorated the wall behind his desk, and a J’lang sculpture of Aktuh embracing Melota sat on one end of his desk. He had replaced the functional duranium doors with Terran redwood ones, covered the ceiling with Vulcan paper tiles and the floor with black marble, and added wholly unnecessary pillars of obsidian.
Kopek walked over to the small table on which he kept an assortment of liquids in crystal pitchers. “Can I interest you in a drink, Ambassador? I have prune juice straight from Earth.”
Under any other circumstances, Worf would welcome the refreshing beverage, but Worf was ever mindful of the Klingon aphorism Drink not with the enemy. And, despite the purpose of his visit, Kopek was most definitely the enemy. He had opposed Martok from the moment he took his seat on the council, three years earlier, and an enemy of Martok’s was, by definition, an enemy of Worf’s.
But for now, I need to cultivate him as an ally of the Federation