Reunion - Michael Jan Friedman [6]
So much for melancholy, the captain told himself as they exited the transporter room with a nod to O’Brien. Seeing the Daa’Vit seemed to have cured him of it for the time being. He was even starting to look forward to the remainder of this mission.
“Damn,” said Geordi. “Seems like just a few years ago I was sitting in command class, listening to stories about the Stargazer and its valiant crew of deep-space explorers—and before you know it, they’re going to be walking around in these very corridors, just like regular people. Hell, one of them’s here already.”
Walking beside him in the long, curving corridor, Worf scowled. “It is a problem,” he rumbled.
Geordi looked at him. “A problem?” he echoed. “How so?”
His companion cleared his throat. “The dignitary we have taken aboard—Morgen. He is … Daa’Vit.” The Klingon appeared to think that that was explanation enough. But Geordi still didn’t get it. He said so. Worf’s scowl deepened. He turned to the chief engineer without breaking stride.
“The Daa’Vit,” the Klingon explained, “were the enemies of my people for more than three hundred years. We have licked each other’s blood from our fingers.”
Licked each other’s … his Geordi hoped that that was just aeafigurative description.
“Shortly after the Federation allied itself with the Empire, it entered into a similar arrangement with the Daa’Vit Confederacy… .”
The Klingon stopped himself as a couple of female ensigns approached from the opposite direction. The women nodded as they went by, and Geordi nodded back.
Not until the ensigns were well out of earshot did Worf continue-and then only in subdued tones. “The Em-pire had been wed to the Confederacy without its consent. Tempers ran high among my people.” Geordi could only imagine what that was like. “In the end, however, the Romulan threat induced the Empire to keep its ally. And to tolerate its ally’s ally.” Worf grunted. “Since that time, no Klingon has attacked a Daa’Vit or vice versa. But then”-he paused significantly-“no Klingon has stood face-to-face with a Daa’Vit in that time.”
Geordi was starting to see. “You’re concerned that when you see our guest, your instincts will take over.” The Klingon looked at him. “My instincts?” He made a derogatory sound. “I am talking about his instincts.”
Geordi smiled, “But Morgen was the captain of a Federation vessel for six years. Surely, he had dealings with the Klingons at some point.”
“Possibly,” conceded Worf “But not face-to-face.”…He paused again. “You must understand —the Daa’Vit are a barbaric race.”
The chief engineer found the choice of words interesting. If the Daa’Vit were barbaric by Klingon standards … “There is no telling how he may react.”
Geordi nodded. “And you can’t exactly stay away from him. Not when it’s your job to provide security for him.”
“Precisely.”
Cleordi thought for a moment, his excitement about meeting the Stargaser crew pushed aside for a moment, “You know,” he said finally, “maybe you do have a problem.”
Riker looked around Ten-Forward and smiled. There was a feeling of history in the air.
Though their group was a small one, seated at a single unobtrusive table near one of the observation ports, it had drawn the attention of everyone in the room.
The reunion between Morgen and Captain Picard had not failed to live’up to Riker’s expectations. The Das’vit was every bit as charming as he had heard, and a hell of a raconteur to boot. The first officer —and everyone in the lounge, it seemed— couldn’t help but be enthralled by him.
“Believe me,” said Morgen, considering the glass of synthehol on the table before him, “I am far from eager to leave Sterfieet. I have grown to love the starspanning life.” He raised his eyes, glancing at Riker, Picard, and
finally Troi before continuing. “But my father’s passing has left a gap in the government that must be filled. As crown prince, it falls to me to fill it—and within the allotted time, as you are no doubt