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

entitlement and solving their problems without evident strain.
    Picard had to admit he was impressed. He had met courtiers of many leaders before and read about many more from history. Most, regardless of their planetary origin and cultural backgrounds, seemed to strive for what the sixteenth-century Earth writer Baldassare Castiglione called sprezzatura : a nonchalant perfection. The most valued aides were the ones who could work whatever magic their superiors required—while not making their exceptional competence seem threatening in the least.
    The captain had not really considered what a Klingon courtier would be like. Klingons were more direct than Romulans: conflicting ambitions were generally resolved by violence, and quickly. Power games didn’t last long. But the House of Kruge’s ceasefire arrangement did need to last, and in Galdor, the House of Kruge had found a steward who could manage the impulses of more than a dozen would-be leaders at once, nimbly playing off the insecurities and idiosyncrasies of each. He had preserved the peace—and kept the family moving forward.
    Picard decided to say something about it as Galdor, having finally gotten his guests situated, sat at last at the table in the Riding Club. “ Gin’tak , would you permit a compliment?”
    â€œAlways.” Galdor accepted a mug from the server and quaffed healthily.
    â€œAs a ship captain, I admire your ability to . . . to manage so many.”
    â€œAh.” The Klingon set the mug down. “It is nothing new, Picard. The house was adrift when I found it—and in my time I have helped it survive dotards, spendthrifts, and debauches. Would-be conquerors that would have started civil wars, just to avenge a slight. I even had a lunatic who wanted to blow apart our most productive asteroids, certain he would find Sto-Vo-Kor inside. But the house endured—and became something that I am honored to be associated with.” He drank again and slammed the mug on the table. “Build the fortress strong, and it will outlast its enemies— both inside and out .”
    â€œSound reasoning. Though I admit I’m surprised to hear you speak so candidly.”
    â€œWhat I say to others is unimportant,” Galdor said. “The nobles care about what I say to them . And I tell them they areright, all the time.” A sly smile formed, and he spoke in lower tones. “And when I am right, I make sure it is their idea.”
    Picard didn’t know whether it was proper to laugh at that or not. Thankfully, Galdor provided the cue by bursting into laughter himself.

Six
    â€œY ou there!”
    Commander Worf spun in the hallway, unaccustomed to being addressed in such a manner on Enterprise . The words were spoken in Klingon, which explained their tone right away—but nonetheless he greeted the speaker with an angry stare. “I am Worf, son of Mogh—and first officer on this vessel. I am not ‘you there.’ ”
    â€œPah!” The bangle-wearing Klingon woman returned his glare. A hundred twenty and trying to look ninety, she jabbed her finger in the direction of Worf’s nose and stepped defiantly toward him. “First officer, my ear! The Federation would give a title to a trained grint hound. No—a hound would answer his master without complaint!”
    Worf restrained his ire. “What do you want?”
    â€œI’m looking for my husband, Lord Udakh.”
    â€œAs was I.” Regrettably , Worf did not say. “Computer, locate Klingon guest Udakh.”
    â€œLord Udakh is in holodeck three.”
    Lady Udakh gave a derisive snort. “Your computer should call him the honorable lord. Have it fixed, right away.”
    Worf said nothing, knowing that, fortunately, the holodeck was just ahead. Still more fortuitously, the lord was fully dressed when the doors opened—though the same could not be said for some of the holographic Klingon