by Chris Kenworthy (scoobyhq@fcmail.com)
Disclaimer: All characters from Star Trek the Next Generation and Star Trek Deep Space Nine do not belong to me.
"On audio," Captain Jean-Luc Picard said out loud.
"Audio channel confirmed," the computer said, and was followed up by a distinctly Klingon voice. "Starfleet runabout, I do not read any clearance for your entry into this system. What is your identity and destination?"
Commander Data opened his mouth, about to answer, but Jean-Luc gestured him to silence. "Our designation is the USS Labarr. As for our destination, that cannot be revealed at this time. I am transmitting a Starfleet clearance code."
"I'm afraid that without a disclosed destination, I cannot countersign authorization for you to proceed within..." the Klingon functionary broke off, presumably stunned speechless at the sight of Picard's Starfleet authorization, which had a permanent countersign by Chancellor Martok. "Authorization granted, sir. K'plah!"
"K'plah." Picard answered with a smile, proceeding to the conn. With practiced ease, he closed the communications channel and set a course for the LaBarr to take up a close parking orbit around the Homeworld, above the capital city.
"Are you happy now?" Doctor Beverly Crusher said with a wry smile. "Playing power games with a lowly flight controller??" Captain Picard only smiled back at her.
"I must admit, sir," Data began reluctantly, "that I do not see why refusing to divulge our intent to anyone in the Klingon service - to 'anyone' beyond the Enterprise, for that matter, is of such obvious importance to you."
Jean-Luc sighed to himself. For all the progress Data had made in understanding human reactions and conventions, (and he had - Jean-Luc could hardly believe the difference in the naive android he had met so many years before,) sometimes Data still just didn't get it. "If we admitted to the fact that we were coming here to meet with the Federation Ambassador, the word would inevitably reach Worf before we could."
"And why is that undesirable? As I understand it, ettiquette would requre that we should have informed Worf of our upcoming visit, before we left the Enterprise, in point of fact."
Crusher shook her head slightly and decided to take a turn. "The strict rules of ettiquette can be stretched for the sake of a pleasant surprise, Data! For Worf to find out suddenly that we are at the Klingon Homeworld to pay him a visit - the unexpectedness of our arrival will heighten the pleasure he gets from seeing us." She shrugged. "At least, that's the theory. If this should happen to be a time at which his duties..."
"Well, let us find out," Picard interrupted her. "We're in orbit now. Opening communications lines to Ambassador Worf."
There was silence for quite a few seconds, then a voice came in over the line. "Galath here."
"Um... excuse me, I was wishing to speak to the Ambassador," Picard said. "Could you patch me through to him?"
"Well, no," the Klingon Galath said, his face appearing on the screen. "Mister Worf is not on-planet at this time."
Picard's jaw dropped. "What is wrong? Was he called away to..."
"No," Galath said smoothly. "He has simply taken his vacation."
Data looked back and forth between the stunned Picard and Crusher. "It seems the surprise is on us," he murmured quietly to his shipmates. "Can you tell us where Worf went??" the android said more loudly, addressing Galath across the communications channel.
* * * *
Commander Kira Nerys groaned as her desk computer listed off all the files requiring her priority attention. Things were pretty quiet lately, though you'd never know it from the state of her inbox - there were requests from the Council of Ministers for her to submit a detailed report on the feasability of a renewal of Bajor's application for Federation membership, ('detailed report?' Yes, the application process should be resumed now that the Dominion war was over - she had told those ministers so more than once,) manifests of Starfleet ships in the area that were in need of repairs, upgrades, refurbishing or other services for her to go over and approve, lists of criminal and terrorist groups in the sector that she needed to familiarize herself with... the list went on and on.
She pulled up a file at random - the minutes of the latest round of peace negotiations with the Dominion, just completed. The talks were proceeding well, mostly out of a suspicious eagerness on the part of the Founder representatives to make concessions. They had paid a stupendous amount in war reparations, mostly to the Triple Alliance of the Federation, Klingon empire, and Romulan empire, though Bajor had received a fair share. They were also contributing to the economic restoration of the new Cardassian republic.
This recent round of talks seemed to be mostly about millitary noninterference, and the treaties had been signed in a quite straightforward way. The Dominion was pledged not to send ships into the Alpha Quadrant without the approval of the Triple Alliance, or to in any way provide assistance to a warfaring power in the Alpha Quadrant. Alpha Quadrant ships were similarly under Dominion jurisdiction on the Gamma Quadrant side of the wormhole.
Kira signed, closed that file, (what incompetent in the Starfleet diplomatic corps had sent it to her with an 'urgent' tag she never wanted to find out. Kira and Deep Space Nine had nothing to do with these negotiations,) and opened a new one. It was a complaint by the Ferengi Commerce Authority requesting an full and complete investigation into the disappearance of the Zeka, a light trading ship. Apparently, the Zeka had been last heard from approaching the outskirts of the Bajoran system, on its way to Bajor to deliver a shipment of wild tura birds from Keylar Five to the Malthur province.
A preliminary inquiry had been lodged the day before yesterday, and Kira had jetted over herself in a Runabout to investigate. The entire trajectory from the point at which the Zeka had last signalled to Bajor was entirely free of debris, or anything else unusual, except for some minor subspace traces. But strange subspace activity had been commonplace in the Bajoran system for the past few weeks. Something to do with how a tachyonic wind was interacting with the radiation of the Bajoran sun, the scientists said. Kira had come to a reasonable conclusion - the captain of the Zeka had become aware of an opportunity for greater profit than his current delivery offered and had taken off to chase the Latinum ring. End of story.
Except that somebody in the FCA was disagreeing with that conclusion and expected her to find their missing ship. "Fat chance," Kira muttered to herself. "She's your ship - you want her so bad, you track her down yourself."
Her communicator suddenly jumped to life. "Worf to Kira."
Kira leaned back into her chair, smiling. "Worf!! It's good to hear from you! How close to the Station are you??"
"The K'mpec is approaching the station, Commander," Worf replied, his voice rich with pleasure in its understated way. "It should be docking within three minutes."
"Tell you what - why don't you beam right into Ops?" Kira suggested. "I can't wait to see you." And to have an excuse to leave all this 'paperwork,' she added mentally to herself.
"As you wish." Kira only just had time to leave the office and walk over to the transporter before it hummed into life, Worf's powerful Klingon fram materializing out of thin air.
"Worf!!" Kira repeated once the Ambassador was fully solid at this location, stepping forward to give him a firm and welcoming handshake. "It's so good to see you. How are things going in the Klingon Empire??"
"Not as well as they are here, I'm afraid," Worf told her with a smile. "Klingons get restless in times of peace, and Martok and I have had our hands full trying to smooth over all of the rivalries that have been asserting themselves since the war ended. But I came here because I wanted respite from..."
"Oh, of course," Kira said, nodding. "Byerly?" she called across Ops, and watched as a Betazoid man of about her own age crossed over to join them. "Ambassador Worf, I'd like you to meet my Starfleet attache, and the second-in-command of this station, Lieutenant Commander Garan Byerly. Mister Byerly, this is Worf, late the strategic operations officer of this station and now Federation ambassador to the Klingons."
"Thank you, Colonel," Worf said to her. "Um... or should that be Commander?" He shrugged. "Commander Byerly, it's very nice... to meet..." He trailed off uncertainly. "Mister Byerly, are you Betazoid? You have the look about you, but you haven't..."
"Finished one of your sentences yet?" Byerly said with an ironic smile. "No. I try very hard not to, in point of fact. It makes non-telepaths uncomfortable, so I have resolved to moderate my natural abilities with tact and discretion." Worf smiled in appreciation of that.
Suddenly a siren began to sound. Byerly turned to a console, and an image resolved on the Ops viewscreen. The wormhole was opening, but...
"There's nothing there," one of Kira's junior officers said out loud.
"Impossible," Kira snapped, crossing over to the sensor station. "Scanning for a cloaked ship... there's something, all right. Not quite sure what, but it's definitely trying to hide itself from us..."
The wormhole closed, and Kira's sensor readings blinked and blanked out. "Damn," she sword.
But suddenly, something new was appearing on the viewer. A ship, decloaking off the bow of the station.
"Ship's configuration does not match any known type," Byerly reported. "It's hailing us. Standard Federation channel."
"Onscreen," Kira ordered.
"This is the Dominion ship Promise, requesting clearance to enter the Alpha Quadrant," the pilot asked belatedly. Kira hardly paid attention to the words, so hard was she staring at the pilot's face on the screen.
Odo's face.