Free Diplomatic Implausibility by Keith R. A. DeCandido Page A

poured it. Most of it landed inside the mug; the rest splashed onto the table. Klag didn’t seem to notice or care. “Twelve ships against six Breen and Jem’Hadar vessels. When it was over, only two remained: the
Pagh
and one of the Jem’Hadar ships. But we were both severely damaged. The fifth planet was breathable, so Kargan ordered us to land there. The Jem’Hadar did the same.”
    Riker took a hearty gulp from his own mug of bloodwine, still from the first bottle. Anti-inebriant notwithstanding, he was feeling a bit woozy, while Klag—whohad drunk about four times as much—showed no signs of even slowing down.
    “Our stabilizers were a thing of the past. The moment we hit the atmosphere, we were thrown across the ship like riders on a bucking mount. By the time I regained my senses, I was on the deck, my right side pinned by what was left of the command chair.” He snorted. “The chair had been sliced in half, and one of those halves was presently weighing me down. I couldn’t feel my right arm, but I could see it sticking out from the other side of the debris. With a mighty shove, I rolled the twisted piece of metal off with my left hand—and then I stood to get a damage report.” Klag took a long gulp of bloodwine. “My right arm remained on the deck.”
    Riker let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. Even though he knew that the story would have Klag losing his arm at some point, Riker had found himself sufficiently engrossed that it still came as a surprise. He drained his mug of bloodwine. “That must’ve hurt.”
    Pouring Riker some more before the commander could stop him, Klag replied, “Actually, no. I felt only anger—which increased a hundredfold when I saw that I was the only one who had survived the crash.” Klag set down the bottle and clenched his fist. “I was furious! For such a fine crew to have survived the Jem’Hadar, only to die like that!”
    Leaning back and smiling, Klag said, “But then I saw the corpse of Captain Kargan. It was a sight I had
long
awaited.”
    Riker leaned forward. He had half-expected the glee with which Klag described Kargan’s death. The general impression Riker had of Kargan from his time as the latter’s first officer was that the captain would be removeddue to his own ineptitude ere long. The fact that he hadn’t had always confused Riker.
    “What you did not know about the captain,” Klag said, “is that he was the son of General Talak—and the nephew of Councilor K’Tal.”
    Riker nodded. He didn’t know much about Talak, but K’Tal was one of the more respected members of the High Council. Riker had met K’Tal eight years earlier when the councilor supervised the installation of Chancellor Gowron. “Friends in high places, huh?”
    “The highest. So I was trapped under that fool. He blocked any opportunity for me to be promoted off the
Pagh,
keeping me firmly under his heel while he stumbled through command with the same idiocy he displayed against the
Enterprise.”
    Shortly after Riker had reported to the
Pagh
as first officer, the vessel was afflicted with a corrosive element. Kargan made the ludicrous leap in logic that the
Enterprise
had sabotaged the
Pagh
during their rendezvous. Riker had defused the situation, but it was a close call. “Why didn’t you challenge him?” Riker asked. It was, after all, Klag’s right; indeed, Riker had invoked that right, after a fashion, during the confrontation with the
Enterprise.
    “Oh, I could have, if I’d wanted to measure my life in microseconds. Both K’Tal and Talak had minions on the
Pagh
who would make sure that no harm would come to Kargan. Even a successful challenge would have been a failure. I intend to die in battle, not in a dark corner at the hands of a paid assassin.”
    “So why didn’t he challenge you?”
    Grinning, Klag said, “And lose what respect he’d scraped up for himself? His House kept him alive quite well, but even the finest assassin