Read Diplomatic Implausibility for Free Online Page A

off, Riker said, “Worf, in the seven-and-a-half years you served on the
Enterprise,
how many people of your current rank did we take on as passengers?”
    “I do not recall the exact number, but—”
    “And how many of them had some kind of reception or event planned in their honor?”
    Worf sighed. “All of them.”
    “Precisely. Don’t worry. It’ll be a modest affair—just a few officers and some finger food and drinks.”
    “Modest,” Worf said, sounding dubious.
    Putting his hand to his heart, Riker said, “Mr. Worf, don’t you trust my word?”
    Remembering more than one surprise party that the commander had been responsible for springing on various unsuspecting crewmembers, Worf could only reply: “No, I do not.”
    Chuckling, Riker said, “Well, let me put it another way: Captain Picard would be deeply offended if you didn’t show up. See you at 1800. Oh, and you’re welcome to join us in my quarters afterward.”
    Worf frowned.
    “Poker night,” Riker said with a smile, and then departed.
    Shaking his head, Worf turned to his duffels and began to unpack. The trip to the border would take several days, after all. He placed his clothing in drawers and the padds he’d need on the desk.
    Then he unpacked the two framed pictures. One was of him and Alexander. It was several years old—Alexander was much shorter and Worf was still a Starfleet lieutenant when the picture was taken—but Worf had kept it with him since the previous
Enterprise
had been destroyed.
    The other was his and Jadzia’s wedding picture.
    He stared at it for several seconds before finally placing it on the bedstand next to the other picture.
    Losing K’Ehleyr had been painful, but he had at least been able to avenge her death. Ending his relationship with Deanna had been difficult, but ultimately the right choice for them both.
    Jadzia Dax’s death was agony, made worse by the fact that Worf had not been able to avenge it.
    It had been over a year, and the pain had not faded.
    He wondered if it ever would.
    Finally, he unpacked his other possessions: the statueof Kahless fighting Morath; his
bat’leth
championship trophy; the metal baldric he had worn over his uniform since becoming
Enterprise
security chief; the new
mek’leth
Ezri Dax had given him as a going-away present after his old one had been taken by the Breen during their capture; and his family’s
bat’leth,
the one possession of the House of Mogh that had survived the Khitomer massacre.
    As he set the
bat’leth
on the wall—replacing a rather hideous painting—the door chime rang. “Enter,” he said.
    A human wearing civilian clothing—a dark blue tunic, a burgundy vest, and black trousers and shoes—entered. He carried a padd in his left hand. “Mr. Ambassador, I’m sorry I’m late,” he said calmly. The man spoke with an accent Worf couldn’t quite place. “My name is Giancarlo Wu. I’m your aide.”
    Worf noted that Wu did not offer his hand.
A promis
ing start.
According to his file, Wu had served as Worf’s predecessor’s aide as well, and had been on the staff of the Federation embassy on Qo’noS prior to that, so he was certainly aware of Klingon customs and preferences. “Minister T’Latrek told me you would be joining me here.”
    “Yes,” Wu said. “I do apologize again. I’m afraid I was caught up in getting your computer access set up, and I was unable to greet you at the transporter.”
    “That is not a problem. I do know my way around this ship.”
    Wu smiled a small smile. “Yes, of course. In any case,” he continued, glancing down at the padd and tapping the occasional command into it, “you have quite a large number of correspondences waiting for you. I will go through them and flag any that need your personal attention, but most of them are trivial matters that either I can handle orcan wait until after the taD matter is resolved.” Something on the padd seemed to grab his attention, and he added, “Ah, you also