Diplomatic Implausibility by Keith R. A. DeCandido Page A

Worf’sentrance. “I may be going out on a limb here, sir,” he said slowly, “but I get the feeling there’s some bad blood between you and the commander.”
    Worf nodded, and noted that his duffels were on the floor next to the other bed. “We met when I was first assigned to Deep Space Nine. It was shortly before the empire’s invasion of Cardassia. Drex was bullying the station’s personnel, and he assaulted one of the Promenade shopkeepers. Drex is also the son of Martok.”
    “Ah, I see,” Wu said. The aide still wore the red vest, now over a black shirt and dark green trousers. “He assumed that his family status gave him carte blanche to act like an idiot.”
    Worf nodded as he set the Kahless-and-Morath statue on the desk. “Something like that. I challenged Drex and took his
d’k tahg
in order to get Martok’s attention. Or, at least, the person I thought was Martok.”
    “The changeling?” Wu asked.
    Again, Worf nodded. “After I rescued the real Martok from the Jem’Hadar prison camp, he made me part of his House. Drex objected.”
    “Because of the way you embarrassed him?”
    “Yes. But Martok knew nothing of that, and did not care.”
    Wu shook his head and chuckled. “So Drex is stuck between a rock and a hard place. You’re an honored part of the House, so he has to treat you as such—or, at least, not actively challenge you—but he hates your guts.”
    “An apt summary,” Worf said.
    “We’ll need to keep an eye on him, then,” said Wu, pulling his padd out of his vest pocket and making notes on it. “Someone with that kind of grudge could cause problems.”
    The door chime rang.
    “Enter,” Worf said.
    Krevor stood in the doorway. “May I speak with you, Ambassador?”
    “Of course,” Worf said, taking a seat at the desk.
    The young woman entered. She had fairly straight black hair, dark eyes, and a soldier’s bearing. “I just would like you to know, sir, that I consider this assignment to be a great honor, and that I look forward to the opportunity to die for you.”
    Noble sentiments,
Worf thought,
but said in a rote
manner.
He suspected there was more to this. “But—?”
    “If you feel that I am not worthy of this assignment, I would not be insulted if you requested another.”
    Worf leaned back in his chair. “Really? And why wouldn’t you be?”
    Krevor frowned. “Sir?”
    “Are you not a loyal soldier of the empire, the same as the others who serve on this vessel?”
    She straightened. “Of course, sir!”
    “Then if I did request another, why would this not insult you? If I were in your place, I would not suffer such an offense lightly.”
    “That is not what I meant, sir.”
    “But it is what you said.”
    Now Krevor started to shift her weight from foot to foot. “May I speak freely, sir?”
    Worf nodded.
    “I believe that Commander Drex gave this assignment to me in order to give
you
offense. I merely did not wish you to suffer it needlessly.”
    Worf regarded her. “Why would you in particular give me offense? We have never met. Our Houses cannot be inconflict, since Commander Drex and I are both of the House of Martok. If any such conflict existed, he would have addressed it by now.”
    Krevor blinked in surprise. “No, sir. I have no House. That is why I joined the Defense Force—to make my own honor, since I cannot take refuge in the honor of my House.” Unlike her offering of her life, this statement was said with feeling. “I simply meant that he gave the assignment to a female, sir.”
    “You are quite presumptuous, Krevor. You assign motives to your superior officer. You presume that I am incapable of detecting those motives myself. And you think me to be ignorant.”
    “Sir?”
    “Did Lukara not fight alongside Kahless at Qam-Chee? Was Melota not Aktuh’s equal in battle? Did Azetbur not finish the work begun by her father, for whom this ship was named?” Worf stood up and faced the young woman. “The body is but a shell. If