Josh hated waiting.
Though not necessarily an impatient man, Josh was a man of action. He could be patient, so long as he could see results – some results, any results - slowly unfolding.
Right now, though, all he could do was wait. And wait. And wait.
He was in the upper level concourse of the conference building, all but abandoned. Several doors led off the concourse into small observation rooms, with windows looking down below into the main conference room. From one of these rooms, Colonel West, disguised as a Klingon, would set up with a Klingon rifle and attempt to assassinate both Federation and Klingon leaders. He would, or rather, should, be stopped by Montgomery Scott, chief engineer of the original Enterprise. It was Josh's intention was to make sure nothing interfered with the course of those events.
Josh, who had taken up position in a small alcove overlooking the stairs, shifted uncomfortably. How long would he have to wait? He had been up here for what seemed an eternity; certainly, it was more than two hours. By now, the delegates had all taken their seats. The Federation President had delivered a long-winded speech emphasizing trust and skepticism towards progress.
Now, Azetbur, daughter of the deceased Gorkon and acting Klingon Chancellor, was giving a speech. She was talking about her father, whom she described as an idealist and a visionary. Josh found it interesting that historians in his day were increasingly describing Gorkon not as a visionary but as a pragmatist, one who had formerly been a staunch supporter of war with the Federation. In their view, Gorkon only changed his mind because of the Praxis environmental catastrophe. Every age, Josh mused, had its revisionist historians. The late twenty-fourth century was no different.
"We are a proud race, and we intend to go on being proud." Azetbur was speaking; Josh reflected on the fact that whatever else had changed in the last century, the Klingon temperament remained constant.
His thoughts were interrupted by the distinct clacking noise of a man's boots heading in his direction. Hiding around a corner, Josh could see a Klingon-appearing man walking calmly down the corridor, carrying what appeared to be an ordinary tool case.
Josh knew instantly it was the rogue Federation Colonel West. He wondered briefly why this area, with its good view of the conference area below, wasn't better secured, then realized that West's Starfleet co-conspirators had probably arranged for the lax security themselves.
West furtively glanced in both directions, then, apparently satisfied he had not been seen, slipped into one of the observation rooms. Josh made a mental note of which one, and then continued his lonely vigil.
Briefly, he wondered what T'Katha and Doctor Kramer were doing; would they be successful in thwarting any attempt to interfere with history on the conference floor? Bereft of communications, Josh could only hope.
For a second time, Josh's thoughts were interrupted by another Klingon who had appeared in the corridor. This time, he was a real Klingon; Josh could see that he was armed with a savage-looking Klingon knife. Unaware of Josh's presence, he quietly took up position in another small alcove near the stairs, ready to ambush anyone who came up those stairs. More specifically, one Starfleet Chief Engineer named Montgomery Scott.
Josh didn't need any history books to recognize this Klingon – General Kalor.