Part 21 (1/2)
”Vail.”
”Lieutenant, I need a connection to Chancellor Martok on Qo'nos immediately.”
”Yes, sir. Give me two minutes.” Wu smiled. ”That was a lot easier than the last time.”
”Indeed. I would hate to think I was losing my touch.”
Rubbing his neck, which had a spot of red from where Worf had held the mek'leth, Wu said, ”No danger of that, sir. Ah, won't you want to clean yourself up before speaking with the chancellor?”
”Why?” Worf asked, confused.
”Oh, no reason, sir,” Wu said with a sigh.
B'Oraq was setting a bekk's arm when Klag entered the medical ward-the captain recognized the young man as one of the guards. The patient stood at attention when he saw Klag come in.
”It's all right, Bekk,” Klag said. ”Doctor, when you're finished with him, I will speak with you.”
”Of course, Captain.”
Klag went to B'Oraq's desk and waited while she finished setting the arm. The bekk nodded to the captain and left without saying a word.
”So, Captain, what can I do for you? Oh, before I forget,” B'Oraq added, tugging on her braid, ”fine work suturing Lieutenant Leskit's wound. I only had to redo about three-quarters of it. Another five or six years, and you might make a decent doctor.”
Klag frowned. ”Your sarcasm is inappropriate, Doctor. I made Leskit a promise in front of the crew-I could not go back on my word.”
”Of course not, Captain. However, I can't help but remember something the human instructors at Starfleet Medical Academy used to say about s.h.i.+p captains. ”They don't expect you to tell them how to run the s.h.i.+p, so don't let them tell you how to diagnose a patient.””
”I'll keep that in mind in the future, Doctor. If you're quite finished, we have matters to discuss.”
Sitting on the other side of her desk, B'Oraq said, ”Of course. We've only suffered one casualty since we last left Qo'nos-Lieutenant M'Rep-but his blood type doesn't match.”
”M'Rep was an engineer. I want a warrior.”
B'Oraq tugged at her braid again. ”You said you would be making that determination, Captain. I am simply looking for a biological match. In any case, I checked the medical records on tad. Two of the Klingons who died in the attack on the refinery are compatible -at least from my perspective.” She called up something on her computer terminal, then turned the display toward Klag. ”Now you must decide if they are from yours.”
The captain stared at the screen. The first record was for one of the supervisors, a man named Kori. Although he came from the most n.o.ble of Houses-he was the brother, ironically, of the captain of the Sompek-Kori himself was a fat, indolent worm. From all accounts, he served well at his post in the refinery, but he was hardly worthy of having his arm continue to serve in this manner. The other was for an engineer named Takus. At first, Klag was going to dismiss him out of hand, but men he noticed the man's record. He had served in the Defense Force for many years, and had even received the General Koord Medal of Honor during a border skirmish with the Romulans fifteen years earlier. And, ironically, his right arm was about all mat was left intact of him, as he had been in the center of the refinery explosion, working until th e last second to try to defuse the bomb.
But then Klag came to why Takus had left the Defense Force apparently, mere'd been some kind of scandal involving a woman under his command.
The details were not in the record, but Klag had seen enough euphemistic records to know the signs. Takus had left the Defense Force in disgrace, though he avoided censure to his House.
According to the records, Takus was of the House of K'Tal-which meant he was a relative of Kargan's.
Under no circ.u.mstances will I place anything related to that petaq on my person.
”Neither of these are acceptable,” he said aloud, turning th e terminal screen back toward B'Oraq.
Tugging on her braid some more, me doctor said, ”Captain, I fail to see what difference any of this makes. These are just empty sh.e.l.ls. Then hearts have gone on to the afterlife. What does it matter what they did in life when the spirit that inhabited them is long departed? Your spirit will inhabit this limb, regardless of who had it before.”
Klag shook his head. ”I do not expect you to understand.”
”Good, because I don't.”
Searching his mind for an appropriate simile, Klag finally said, ”It would be as if you brought me the arm of Duras or General Chang or some other traitor to the empire-or as if you gave me the weapon that Morath used to fight Kahless. I would not want the stigma of their dishonor, even if it is secondhand.”
B'Oraq turned the computer terminal back toward Klag. ”Takus is-was an engineer who died trying to save lives. Are you saying that he's the equivalent of a Ha ”Dlbahvke Duras?”
”Only in terms of worthiness to live on in me.”
Leaning back, B'Oraq tugged at her braid again. ”Something else you should be aware of, Captain you do realize what you're opening yourself up to here, don't you? The war changed a lot of att.i.tudes-if it hadn't, this medical ward would be half the size and a quarter as well equipped as it is now. But still, this step you're taking is a big one. I personally think it's the wrong step, but just by replacing a lost limb, you're flying in the face of tradition. It could have an adverse effect on how people react to you.”
”Doctor, yesterday in the holodeck, I realized that possessing only one arm is having an adverse effect on my ability as a warrior. Ultimately, that is my only concern. How ” react to me is their problem.”
Klag hoped he sounded more convincing than he actually felt.
”Worfto Klag.”
Klag frowned. ”Klag.”
”_I_ need to speak with you immediately in your office.”
”I'll be there shortly.” He looked at B'Oraq. ”Continue the search, Doctor.”
”What should I tell people when they ask why I am looking for these items? I told them on tad that I needed cadavers for medical research, but I doubt that I will be able to use that excuse on a wider search.”
Klag was amazed at the question. ”You will tell them the truth, Doctor- that you are operating under orders from your commanding officer. That is all that you will need to say.”
As Klag turned to leave, B'Oraq said, ”Captain?”
”Yes?”
”Thank you. I know you're doing this for yourself and not for me-especially since you're not going about it the way I would recommend-but the fact that you are doing it means a lot to me. Having the Hero of Marcan accept a medical procedure such as this will have a profound impact on the future of Klingon medicine, I think.”
”As you said, Doctor, I am not doing this for you.” He smiled. ”But you're welcome.”
B'Oraq returned the smile, and Klag turned and left.
He headed to his office, trying very hard to convince himself that he had done the right thing. It felt right, certainly -and the memory of the constant defeats at the hands of the holographic Jem'Hadar reinforced it. On the other hand, he just won a rather impressive battle against six Kreel s.h.i.+ps in which the number of his arms was irrelevant.
One thing was for sure-he would not graft one of those machines onto his body. The very idea made him ill. It would be the arm of a warrior or no arm at all.
B'Oraq was right about one thing, however there were many who would shun him, and call his behavior dishonorable and not worthy of Kahless.
On the other hand, if they wanted to be so d.a.m.n worthy, they shouldn't be using disruptors. After all, just a bat'leth was good enough for Kahless ... Upon entering his office, he saw Lieutenant Vail kneeling in front of an opened wall panel. ”Lieutenant?”
Vail shot to his feet ”My apologies, sir, I did not-That is, I need to work on this panel.”
”Do you have to do this now, Lieutenant?”