Hell's Heart by John Jackson Miller Read Free Book Online Page A

aggravation. He eyed the deck nervously. “I will take large steps.”
    Picard nodded to Chen. She stepped forward. “I can show you to your accommodations, my lord.”
    Kiv’ota, seemingly seeing her for the first time, brightened. His crevice of a mouth resolved into a smile, and he crooked his arm invitingly. Chen saw it and looked back to the captain inbewilderment. Picard felt her discomfort, but before he could say anything, Kiv’ota was at Chen’s side, leaning on her for support. “Show me the way,” he said.
    Chen walked the old Klingon to the exit, glancing back to Picard long enough to see his apologetic expression. The second the doors closed behind them, Galdor chuckled. “ Now he moves.”
    The doors suddenly reopened, and Galdor’s expression instantly returned to servility. “Yes, my lord?”
    â€œA thought,” Kiv’ota said, still on Chen’s arm. “See if the captain will rename the ship.”
    Picard looked at Galdor and took a breath. “Discussions are already under way, my lord.”
    â€œExcellent.” The doors shut again.
    Galdor smiled toothily at Picard. “You’re getting the picture.”
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    Picard had gotten the picture—and continued to, over the following hours, as Enterprise gathered attendees during its whirlwind tour of a dozen planets administered by the House of Kruge.
    Kiv’ota, at a hundred fifty-one, had been one of Kruge’s elder cousins and was the second oldest claiming his legacy. But the other ancient veterans of the Battle of Gamaral had all tested Enterprise ’s hospitality in one way or another, as had the younger heirs representing those who’d died. Riker’s earlier description of Kahless as a “handful” sounded almost comical to Picard now, because every one of the house’s nobles had presented unique problems.
    There was M’gol, who was a ne’er-do-well scion of one branch of the family and easily one of the youngest people invited. Already drunk upon boarding, M’gol had demanded his own floor of Enterprise , located physically higher on the vessel than any of the ones his fellow nobles were staying on.Galdor had convinced him it was more prestigious to be as far forward as possible—and the presence of the Riding Club had convinced him to settle for a suite.
    Also among the younger generation was the big bruiser A’chav, who Picard thought set the record for the largest number of insults ever hurled in a diplomatic greeting. He appeared to be indifferent not only to the alliance with the Federation but also to the ceasefire in his own house; he had barely left the transporter room when he saw one of the other attendees and started a fight. After Chen and the security escorts intervened, Galdor convinced the brawler that after the ceremony, the Federation would be ceding Gamaral not just to the Klingon Empire and the House of Kruge, but to A’chav personally. “Let him think so,” Galdor told Picard after A’chav had peaceably retired. “He has been struck in the head so many times he will not remember it two days hence.”
    A different problem was the decrepit J’borr, even older than Kiv’ota. He was so feeble Picard had thought to send him straight to sickbay on his arrival—but the xenophobic J’borr refused to convalesce in a Starfleet setting. Once again, Galdor had a response right at hand: a program for a facsimile Klingon medical center, which Beverly Crusher then opened in holodeck two. J’borr went without complaint; Picard did not expect to see him emerge until they reached the ceremony.
    Not all the Klingon nobles were eccentric or even particularly interesting. Picard detected among some an odd boredom paired with irritability at being made to travel to a party in their honor. But Galdor was always there, ably navigating the waters of