General Wrot'Ka slowly walked to his quarters on the I.K.S Lukara II. The projectiles fired at him and his Officers on Bajor were laced with a chemical that inhibited the effects of dermal regenerators and other advanced medical equipment. That meant that the Klingon was still recovering from his gunshot wound to the chest.
He moved along the interior of the ship slightly hunched over from the pain. His baldric was not worn, he had it folded and draped over his left shoulder like a championship belt instead. The General was dressed in loose clothing as he was just released from sickbay moments ago. Every member of his crew that passed gave him the usual sign of respect. He returned the gesture but with a much softer placing of his fist on his chest as to not cause further damage to his injury.
He reached his quarters and tossed his baldric on to a table as he proceeded towards his bed. He slowly lowered himself onto the bed and eventually was able to lay down after he completed a complex set of maneuvers. Wrot'Ka let out a deep breath, it was filled with exhaustion, anger, and concern. No sooner did he close his eyes did the chime for his communications panel go off.
"Speak." The General said in a rather weak voice. The chime went off again. "SPEAK!" He shouted to not avail as the chime continued once more. Wrot'Ka rolled off the bed and angrily pushed a chair out of his, the whole time letting off a barrage of Klingon swears. His booted feet thumped on the deck as he hulked over to the controls and pounded his fist on it. "What!?"
"General." The image on the screen was of Lady Karana, the only other surviving member of the House of Wrot'Ka. "You are receiving a message from Qo'noS, it is marked as 'Urgent.' It is audio only, it may be from the High Command."
Wrot'Ka gave a flippant and frustrated hand waive. Lady Karana assumed that meant for her to patch it through. The screen returned to the default Klingon Empire logo. He waited to hear something but the other end was not speaking. "General Wrot'Ka here."
"I thought maybe it was standard propaganda when they said you had survived." It was the voice of Tralk. "I'm glad you are alive."
Wrot'Ka was noticeably annoyed. "qoH! You had a picture of me in your hit list."
"If I wanted you dead I would have shot you in the head. You were standing still, after all." Tralk was quick with his response.
"You're no sniper." Wrot'Ka was in the mood to trade insults. "You'd have shot Shushant in the head if that was the case." There was a brief moment were both men talked over each other, mostly arguing about the others inability. "I know who you are." Wrot'Ka's words found room in between Tralks threats and rhetoric. "I know who you are and what you are. I know where you've been, I know where you're going. You should just kill yourself and save us the trouble."
There was silence for a moment on Tralks end before he spoke again, "If your people get in my way again it will not end well." The General started to speak but the assassin cut him off, "I'm not going to give you or your Strike Force a chance to react this time. You stopped the Defera Prime Minister from blowing up... he was never a primary target, just another means to end the tyranny of the current state of the Empire. I enjoyed our little game, I reveled in watching you scramble around trying to keep this hollow shell of an Empire safe... but a predator will only play with his food for so long."
The General let out a deep and labored breath. "Then why don't you just move in for the kill already. Show yourself and prove your skills."
"I will." Tralk’s response was cold and clear. "I'll kill you in the worst way possible... by leaving you alive. I know how you are, you would never let this go. You'll be present when the Chancellor dies. You'll get to be the only serving member in the Klingon Defense Force present for the death of 3 Chancellors. Given your character and attitude, I truly wonder if you will do all that needs to be done to save J'mpok. Did you do everything to protect Martok?"
"He was challenged!" Wrot'Ka shot back.
"But you saw it coming." The assassin was skilled in picking people apart. "You could have challenged J'mpok for his words against Martok, you two have never gotten along. But you did nothing. So, now you want me to believe you'll risk your life to protect a dishonorable Chancellor when you wouldn't for Martok?" There was only silence. Wrot'Ka was not accustomed to being insulted in such a way. Had he been face to face with Tralk he'd have lunged for his throat with his bare hands. The silence provoked Tralk, "That's what I thought. You're fairly honorable, Wrot'Ka, more so than you used to be. You and the respectable members of Kargas could help rebuild this Empire. Think about it."
Wrot'Ka did think about it for a moment. He would be in good standing to claim the chancellorship should J'mpok die. He'd have to fight for it, but there are few that would even be a challenge. "I'll think about it..." His response was calm, "when I'm standing over your dead body!" He slammed his fist into the panel and broke the controls as he cut off the transmission.
As Wrot'Ka walked back to his bed it dawned on him that D'Tan, leader of the Romulan Republic, may have been the last target on the burnt picture. The Chancellor and D'Tan would be present on New Romulus and would likely make an appearance together in public. Wrot'Ka was now convinced that Tralk would strike on New Romulus, this idea was supported by Tralk’s words to his Officers after he was shot.
The General would have to come up with a plan of action that would lure Tralk into his assassination attempt on New Romulus while somehow protecting the leaders of the Klingon Empire and the Romulan Republic. He was going to have to work with the Romulans who are the only people Wrot'Ka loathes more than the Federation.
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