Resistance - J.M. Dillard [67]
“I see no point in pursuing such a useless topic,” she said. “I urge you to reconsider returning to the Borg vessel. Captain Picard refused to listen to reason—and the away team was either killed or lost. Now he himself has been assimilated by the Borg and will be used to do the one thing he wished to avoid—destroy the Enterprise and harm Starfleet. How many more are you willing to sacrifice, Commander?”
Beneath his thick, knitted brows, his deep-set eyes were narrowed, his breathing had quickened. One of his hands had unconsciously clenched in a fist. T’Lana looked pointedly at it and said, “You see? If your return had anything to do with logic, you would not be angry at me, Commander. But it has nothing to do with reason and everything to do with emotion. That is why I do not approve of your being in charge of this vessel; you have demonstrated that you let emotion guide you in making the most critical of decisions.” She realized that her pitch had risen slightly, almost as if it contained a trace of heat. Impossible, she told herself. She did not permit herself to indulge in anger. No doubt she was simply reflecting the Klingon’s mannerisms back to him.
Had the desk not been between them, he would have stepped closer, a mere hand’s breadth from her face. His eyes, his expression betrayed the fact that he knew precisely the incident to which she referred. Even so, he demanded, in a deadly low voice, “What are you speaking of, Counselor? When did I demonstrate such a thing?”
“When you rescued Jadzia Dax,” she said, un-cowed. “It was a rash, purely emotional act. The spy Lasaran was killed as a result…as were countless others, in a pointless war.”
He recoiled at that. His expression went slack, and his broad, straight shoulders bowed slightly beneath the weight of an invisible, intolerable burden. T’Lana got the impression that he would have liked to sit down, but he was far too proud. He lifted his chin. “That is not common knowledge. The incident with Lasaran was classified. How is it that you learned of it?”
“I served as counselor,” she said, “on the Starship Indefatigable. Karina Wozniak was my captain. We were on an errand of mercy on the outskirts of the Dominion War zone when we were attacked by the Jem’Hadar. Captain Wozniak and most of the bridge crew were killed in that attack.” She paused. “Later I served as a diplomatic liaison to the Romulans. I worked for Starfleet Intelligence and, as a result, learned the details of Lasaran’s murder.”
“So this is why…” Worf began, then trailed off; he seemed to look past her, at a distant memory, then collected himself with singular dignity. “I agree, it was a poor decision, one that I have regretted each day since. I am sorry for the death of your captain and your crewmates. If it were possible, I would change the past. But I cannot. I want you to know that…I have refused a promotion to become the permanent first officer of the Enterprise—for the very reason you mention. I do not feel worthy of command. I asked Captain Picard to find a more appropriate replacement. In the meantime, I command this vessel, and I will decide the best course of action.”
His words were uttered with perfect sincerity; humans would have said, He has spoken from the heart. This was not the hot-headed Klingon she had judged him to be. T’Lana looked on him and felt some of her resistance toward him melt away. “And you feel the best possible decision is to violate the order of your captain? I urge you: take the ship to safety and alert Starfleet. Await the arrival of Seven of Nine, who is now best qualified to find a solution.”
Worf studied her a long moment, then said, “I have heard of the incredible loyalty of Vulcans to their commanding officers. Is this true?”
The image of Wozniak’s charred features flashed in her mind as she answered, calmly, “It is.”
“Your Captain Wozniak…were you with her during the attack?”
“We were both on the bridge.”
Worf gave a slight,