Planet X - Michael Jan Friedman [7]
“Whatever you say, Commander,” he replied.
Tapping his communicator badge, the Klingon raised his bearded chin, imagining it gave him an air of self-possession. “Worf to Enterprise. One to beam over.”
“Ready, sir,” came the response.
The voice was unfamiliar to Worf. But then, he hadn’t set foot on the Enterprise in almost a year. In that period of time, considerable changes would have taken place in ship’s personnel.
“Take care, sir,” O’Brien told him. “And don’t let them kid you too much about your wedding, all right?”
The Klingon didn’t respond to O’Brien’s reference about his recent nuptials. However, he fully expected that the chief was right. No doubt, some of his former comrades would find something humorous in his marriage to Jadzia Dax.
Others would simply congratulate Worf on the event. Captain Picard would be one of the latter, he expected. After all, the captain was a man who showed others the proper respect.
“Energize,” said the Klingon.
There was no sensation to signal the fact that his atoms were being scanned, reorganized, and shot across the void. There was only the always-strange recognition that he was suddenly somewhere else—in this case, one of the Enterprise’s several transporter rooms.
The operator was a slender woman with short red hair. As Worf had gathered from hearing her voice, he didn’t know her.
That came as no surprise to him. What the Klingon did find unusual was the absence of his friends and colleagues. Except for the transporter operator, he was all alone in the room.
“Welcome aboard, sir,” the woman said cordially.
“Thank you,” said Worf. He couldn’t help frowning. “I had … expected there would be someone here to meet me. Other than yourself, I mean.”
The transporter operator just looked at him. Obviously, she didn’t know what to say to that.
“Never mind,” the Klingon told her. “It is not important.”
Clearly, he thought, the captain and his command staff were engaged in some urgent and unexpected business—though Worf had difficulty imagining what that business might be. Stepping down from the platform, he crossed the room and headed for the exit.
He was almost there when the doors slid aside and revealed Captain Picard. The man looked distracted—so much so, he almost walked into Worf before he realized his former tactical officer was there.
“Mr. Worf!” the captain exclaimed.
The Klingon suppressed a smile. “I am pleased to see you, sir.”
“You look well,” said Picard.
“As do you, sir.” He eyed the captain more closely. “Has something pressing come up? Something of which I should be aware?”
Picard looked at him. “I … don’t believe so,” he responded finally. “Why do you ask?”
Worf sighed. “No reason.”
True, he had expected a bit more of a reception. However, he had hardly seen the captain over the course of the last few years. The same was true of the Klingon’s other former comrades—Deanna, Data, Geordi, Dr. Crusher, and Commander Riker.
Times change, he told himself. People change. They make other friendships and move on.
“Well,” said Picard, “why don’t we repair to the observation lounge? We can discuss the diplomatic conference. No doubt, you already have some ideas as to how you would like to approach it.”
Worf nodded, reminded of the reason for his visit. With the efforts of the Klingon Empire so vital to Federation security these days, Starfleet Command had decided to hold a strategy meeting with a number of high-ranking Klingon military leaders.
As the Starfleet officer most familiar with Klingon customs, Worf was asked to attend a planning session at Starbase 42. After all, the last thing Command wanted to do was offend or alienate its guests—and who knew the potential pitfalls better than a warrior of the House of Martok?
On the other hand, with the Jem’Hadar a constant threat, Captain Sisko hadn’t wanted the Defiant gone too long from Deep Space Nine. Hence, the rendezvous with another starship.
The Enterprise was selected for the job because her captain