Part 13 (2/2)

Kalor halfheartedly backhanded his aide on the side of the head. ”Of course, Parl. We will have dinner, and while Picard and I talk, you will find his special cargo.”

Either confused from the light blow to his head, or more likely by life in general, Pad's brows drew together. ”We will not simply beam on an a.s.sault team?”

Kalor hit him again. ”You want to try to take a Federation stars.h.i.+p by force? Alone? That Federation stars.h.i.+p?” ”No, Governor.”

”To do anything, we will have to wait for our two sister s.h.i.+ps to return.” Kalor stepped down from the command chair, stroked his beard, and turned toward the bridge lift. ”Sober up, Parl. That's an order.”

”Yes, Governor,” Parl said as he followed. ”But why wait until after dinner to distract Picard?”

”Because, Parl,” Kalor said with a sigh, ”I'm hungry”

Chapter Seventeen.

U.S.S. Enterprise, NCC 1701E Klingon s.p.a.ce Malinga Sector ”WHERE IS HE?”

Kalor's tone was less angry than it was disgusted. He'd been relatively silent through dinner, and now Picard understood why.

They sat alone in the captain's dining area, Kalor on one side of the table, Picard on the other.

The captain took in a breath and opened his mouth to answer.

With a raised hand, Kalor stopped Picard from beginning whatever it was he'd planned to say. ”Don't, Picard. Do not dishonor either of us with subterfuge.”

He wasn't intending to lie to Kalor, and anger at the insinuation flushed his face. Hopefully it didn't look like embarra.s.sment. Even though that, too, was a feeling. He agreed with Kalor's disgust-T'sart was a disgusting man who'd done disgusting things.

”How?” Picard asked finally, his voice a low gravel.

”No, you tell me-”

Picard didn't yell. He didn't wave off Kalor's comment. He didn't pound anything. He simply hammered the Klingon with a glare, and spoke with slow intensity. ”I want to know how.”

Curling his lips in thought, Kalor seemed to consider an answer. He would lie, or he would tell the truth, Picard knew, but he would answer no matter what. And it was difficult for Picard not to sympathize. How many lies had he already told Kalor? ”The Romulans,” the Klingon said finally, and Picard wasn't sure if the distaste in his voice was a holdover from his thoughts of T'sart, or just because he'd had to deal with an enemy such as the Romulans. True, the two empires had allied with the Federation and each other during the Dominion War, but treaties couldn't eliminate a century of acrimony.

”You can't have him,” Picard said, and took a sip of the tea in front of him. The water didn't take the dryness from his throat. That was there not from thirst, but from irritation. At Kalor, yes, but mostly at T'sart.

”How can you protect him, Picard?” Kalor asked.

”My duty-” Picard began.

”I know about duty,” the Klingon barked. ”There is no moral duty to protect something like him.”

Picard huffed angrily. ”My duty is to justice. Not to revenge.” He didn't want to have this argument, not now, not here. There was a more important ticking clock-the dead zone problem-pounding in the back of his mind. That was one reason he didn't want to have the discussion. The other was: he could have easily been on Kalor's side. There's more here, Picard kept telling himself.

”I want to see him,” Kalor demanded before Picard could formulate an explanation.

The captain shook his head. ”You can't have him.” Picard could only begin to imagine the tortures a Klingon court verdict would render on T'sart. Which isn't to say the man didn't deserve it, but if he had the answer to stopping the dead zones ... Kalor scoffed. ”I don't want him. I'm not foolish enough to believe you'd just turn him over to me and then be on your way.”

”Then why do you want to see him?”

Leaning forward, Kalor's stomach pushed his empty dinner plate forward, clinking it against his empty gla.s.s of blood wine ”Because ... it is owed me. It is owed every Klingon.”

Picard was silent. T'sart did have a debt to repay, to the Klingons and to many, many more.

”Do you know what he did?” Kalor continued. ”Do I need to tell you how much death he's caused? How much suffering?”

”No,” Picard whispered.

”To kill a Klingon with disease...” Kalor thrust himself harshly back into his chair. ”It is the ultimate dishonor.”

The captain glanced away, then quickly back. He knew Kalor, and Kalor knew him, but showing weakness to any Klingon was a mistake. They only understood the empathy another might have so far as they could use it to their advantage. Picard let his eyes become stone-set and cool.

”I want to see him,” Kalor said.

”To what end?”

Kalor paused, then finally said, ”You owe me this.”

Picard shook his head. ”I owe you nothing. If anyone has a debt here-”

The Klingon pounded an open hand on the table. ”Paid in full, Picard! If only by mere fact that I do not call other Klingons here to take this petaQ by force.”

”There is more to this,” Picard barked back. ”I've salvaged your honor before. Shouldn't you honor me now if I ask it?”

Kalor looked away, remembering something he'd rather not. ”I've not forgotten what you did.” He turned back, shaking his head, his jowls quivering in anger. ”But what you've done now does not just dishonor yourself, or Klingons. It dishonors all those who live.”

”Kalor, T'sart is important-” ”So is the honor of the dead. So is justice, which you claim you have a duty to.” The Klingon straightened, seeming to stand taller than his actual height. ”I will not listen to Federation explanations. I want to see him.”

Picard tried to weigh the possible ramifications of a short confrontation. Would it scare T'sart? Probably not. Would it anger him? Most certainly. Could he afford that? Yes. In fact, he'd somewhat enjoy it. Would Kalor try to hurt the Romulan? Probably not. He would know that to be futile.

”I'll give you five minutes,” Picard said finally. ”With myself and my guards present.”

”I want to see him alone.”

The captain stood. ”Then I'll have you escorted off my s.h.i.+p.”

Kalor nodded. ”Five minutes.”

Enterprise Runabout Kaku Romulan s.p.a.ce Sector IB ”He does not have a weapon, sir.” Data stood a few meters away from their Romulan captive, a tricorder in one hand and phaser in the other.

The Romulan smiled at Data, then at Riker. ”I no have weapon. Surrender now? Captive?”

”Is he really cheerful, or is this an act?” Riker asked Deanna out the side of his mouth.

”Definitely very cheerful,” she said.

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