"Plant your feet. Lower your center of gravity."

Elle shifted her stance and redid the kata. "Worf?"

"Yes?" he rumbled. "Fourth kata."

The class moved to the fourth kata.

"You're really tense today," Elle said. "Are you okay?"

He growled.

"He's nervous about the Klingon exchange officer coming aboard today," Dr. Crusher stage-whispered, as if everybody on the Enterprise wasn't a raging gossip and didn't already know.

He glared.

Elle swooped her practice staff in the half-circle and shifted her weight accordingly. "What's his name?"

Worf huffed. "Elle Wilcott, you have just agreed to assist me to demonstrate the second combo of the day."

Elle groaned and stepped forward. "Yes sir." As they worked through the combos, the realization came to her. She winced as Worf dropped her to the mat and demonstrated a hold. "Ow."

He released the hold and stood up, offering her a hand. "Your turn."

She went through the motions and Worf obligingly allowed her to drop him so she could get a feel for the motions. While he was on the ground she asked, "How do you feel about gaining a secret brother?"

He stared up at her, startled. "What?" He got up. "What are you talking about?"

"The exchange officer that's coming."

"What about him?"

"He's your brother."

Worf froze. "Impossible," he stated.

"Sorry. But it's not."

"How."

"Uh, adoption by another house," Elle said.

Worf growled. "Class dismissed."

Elle changed from her exercise clothes back into her regular clothes and accompanied Worf to the bridge.

"You could not have informed me in private?" Worf asked, as they stood in the turbolift.

Elle ducked her head as her cheeks turned red. "Sorry," she said, grimacing. "But he's coming this afternoon with a real attitude, and I didn't want you to get blindsided by his actual appearance."

He grunted in acknowledgement. "What is he like?"

"Very Klingon," Elle replied.

Worf rolled his eyes. They exited the turbolift onto the bridge. "Captain Picard, may we speak with you in private?"

"Of course," Picard said, surprised. He ushered them into the ready room. "What is it? An episode? The Klingon coming aboard?"

"Yes, sir," Worf said, and stopped there.

Elle finished the sentence. "It's, uh, Worf's brother."

Picard managed to not look flabbergasted. "You have a brother?"

"I do not," Worf said flatly. "At least, I believed I did not."

"And he's coming here to scope you out and ask you to figure out why they're framing your father for treason or something," Elle added.

They both stared at her. "For treason?" Worf bellowed.

Elle grimaced and pushed her hair out of her face. "Okay, look, all I know is that this guy is actually Worf's brother and somebody's framing the House of Mogh for treason to get in with the chancellor or something and there's an assassin at some point. And it's definitely the House of Duras, because those two women keep popping up and abducting Geordi for some reason."

"Geordi?" Picard asked.

"Right?" Elle said.

Picard shook his head. "Wait. Go back."

"Can't," Elle said apologetically.

"Why not?" Worf demanded.

"Uh, I don't remember this episode very well. I only watched it maybe once. Klingon politics were not interesting when I was a child. Sorry."

"Understandable," Worf said gravely. "But if the honor of my house is at stake..."

"Okay," Elle said, "at the end of the episode they all turn their backs on you, but then later this season you save the chancellor so you get your honor back, and I don't remember if what's-his-face is actually a bad guy or not."

"Who?" Picard asked patiently.

"Worf's secret brother."

"Is a bad guy?"

"I don't know," Elle groaned, rubbing at her forehead. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything." She cleared her conflicting thoughts and pulled the episode out to analyze it. "No," she said absently, "he's fine. He's just hot-headed." She shook her head. "Anyways. It was definitely Duras."

Worf growled.

"Do we have any evidence?" Picard asked.

"Something something transmissions," Elle said. "That's all I got."

Worf frowned. "The House of Duras is powerful. We cannot accuse him without proof."

Picard nodded. "I believe the best course of action is to wait for Worf's brother to show up. He may have more information. In the meantime, we will have to look at the Khitomer conference more closely." He tapped his commbadge. "Mr. Data to my ready room."

Worf didn't look very happy at that, but he inclined his head in agreement.

Elle tilted her head. "Worf?"

"Yes?"

"Is the current chancellor, fat?"

Worf looked at her, startled. "Why?"

"I don't know," Elle said, blushing hotly. "But ten-year-old me thought that was really funny for some reason." The memory of giggling into a couch cushion made her smile.

Data entered, and Elle left them to it.

-/\-

"If you don't leave your quarters right now you're going to be late," Alexa stated.

Elle groaned. "Doesn't the captain realize I'm the worst person to have at this welcome dinner?"

"He wants you as a wild card," Alexa said. "Go. Do your thing. Rile the scary Klingon warrior."

"You need to work on your pep talks." Elle left her quarters and headed for the Captain's Dining Room. She entered and found Picard and one of Guinan's staff finishing the details on the plate. She gaped. "...is this, what we're eating for dinner?"

"Yes, why?" Picard asked, with the paranoia of someone who has had too many glasses of champagne thrown at his head during state functions.

"It's, bland Americana," Elle said, staring at the turkey, mashed potatoes, and salad. "He's a Klingon. Where's the red meat?"

"He's here for a cultural exchange, not more of the same," Picard replied.

"Klingons eat arsenic compounds and raw meat," Elle said flatly. "You're going to kill him with salt and pepper mush."

"What do you suggest then?"

"More Hispanics in Star Fleet," Elle replied. "We need spices. Spiced food. Mexican, Indian, Korean, something with flavor."

Picard and Guinan's minion, was his name Jack?, shared a glance. "I suppose more variety would be welcome," Picard said. His comm beeped and he blanched. "That's my five-minute warning. I need to escort Beverly down. Excuse me. Elle, you can replicate some dishes?" He hurried out, fixing his uniform collar.

Elle gulped. "Uh... how much carne asada can you make? Something with a good char on it, lots of spice rub. Maybe some shrimp a la Diabla? And a curry with Thai chilis. Ooh, and a couple varieties of kimchi. And they're not big on utensils so let's replicate a lot of tortillas, or naan, or something. Ooh, what's that spicy lentil stuff?"

Jack looked at her. "I'm from Mars. We don't really do lentils."

"Fine. Scratch that. Uhhh, oh, you what? Seared lamb, maybe some of those bitter greens with it? They have that bitter-y root, he might like chard and, uh, what do people eat on the Passover? It's like a lettuce?"

"Endive," said Jack. "Tastes tangentially like chicory or coffee."

"Okay, cool, excellent, Klingons love coffee, let's go with that."

They were putting the last dish on the table when the door slid open and people started coming in. Jack gave Elle a discreet high-five and slipped from the room.

Elle smiled at the assorted officers and straightened up as picard entereed with Riker and Kurn.

Picard made the introductions of the rest of his officers. "And this is Elle Wilcott, a civilian mission consultant."

"Commander," Elle said, bowing her head in a sharp nod. "A pleasure."

"You employ children?" Kurn asked, turning to Picard.

"We employ talented young people who are reaching out for responsibility," Picard replied smoothly. "As you noticed earlier, our helmsman is Elle's age."

"And what are you?" Kurn asked, turning back to Elle. "A warrior? A scientist?"

Elle smiled slightly. "A consultant," she said.

He dismissed her with a contemptuous huff and Elle slipped back to stand next to Deanna and Riker. "How'd you feel if I punched him?" Elle murmured. "Give him something to consult about?"

Riker stifled a snort. "No," he said. "He's barely been here a full day, I'd like to get through dinner without a diplomatic incident, please."

"Are we just gonna glaze over the fact that that's Worf's brother over there?" Geordi asked, gesturing subtly.

"Not ignore," Deanna said, "just wait for an appropriate time to bring it up."

Picard invited them to step over to the buffet line. Elle went to the end of the line, curious to see what Kurn would choose. She noticed with satisfaction that he sniffed all the dishes and chose the ones that Elle and Jack had replicated at the last minute.

Kurn poked at the slices of turkey with disgust. "This meat has been in the sun too long," he stated.

"It's cooked," Dr. Crusher told him. "Safe for human consumption."

"Ah." He grimaced and moved on, leaving the turkey behind.

Elle smiled smugly and loaded her plate with one of each thing. Instead of butting in, she could focus on eating. She grabbed another couple of flatbreads and went to her seat, securely sandwiched in between Deanna and Data.

"Earth food is not as bad as I thought it would be," Kurn said, smacking his lips appreciatively. "The spices, the flavor, some of these things could almost be Klingon."

Picard caught Elle's eye and inclined his head in silent thanks.

"Are you adjusting to your new environment, Commander?" Troi asked.

Kurn smiled sharply. "I find the constraints a bit difficult to conform to. Just a short while ago, I had to stop myself from killing Commander Riker. I believe he was trying to communicate the crew's sense of discomfort with my style of command. Under different circumstances, I would consider that a challenge to my authority."

Picard lifted his wine glass to hide a smile. "One of the aims of the exchange programme, Commander, is for all of us to learn tolerance. As for my crew, it may be healthy to shake up the status quo occasionally." Yeah, he was definitely enjoying this way too much.

Riker took his captain's teasing in good stead. "The Commander certainly appears to have the crew on its toes."

Elle shoved a scoop of curry into her mouth to keep from starting drama. Cultural exchange, cultural exchange, do NOT start a diplomatic incident, you are not here to antagonize... "What House do you belong to, commander?" her mouth asked, and fought the urge to smack herself. Idiot.

Kurn almost choked on a bite of seared lamb. "What do you know of Klingon Houses?" he asked instead.

"Not much," Elle said. "Just Worf's house, the next chancellor's house, the guy who framed Worf's dad for treason, that kind of thing."

Riker sighed and drained his wine glasss.

Kurn paid no attention to him. "I was not aware Federation civilians are aware of the Council's workings," he rumbled, shooting Worf a glare.

Worf held his gaze and took a bite of carne asada. "It is her duty to be aware," he rumbled back.

"And what are you going to do about it, son of Mogh?" Kurn challenged.

Worf took another large, deliberate bite of food.

Elle could have laughed at Kurn's scowl. She stuffed a piece of naan in her mouth instead.

"I will do nothing," Worf finally said.

"WHAT." Kurn leapt from his seat, upsetting his wine glass. "And you call yourself a Klingon! You COWARD!" He dove across the table and tried to punch Worf square in the nose.

Data hauled Elle out of range of the brawling Klingons and deposited her near the window. "Excuse me," he said politely, and at Picard's nod, he waded into try and separate the two brothers.

Beverly sided over to Elle. "I thought Jean-Luc told you that you weren't allowed to start fights."

"Who, me?" Elle asked innocently, and watched Kurn get slammed into the buffet table. "Aww, the lentils. And it was Captain Kirk who told me. But there's a statute of limitations."

Beverly rolled her eyes. She winced as Worf got slammed against the wall. "Ouch, that's gonna bruise."

"ENOUGH!" Picard roared, all the might of his captainly outrage.

Both Klingons froze.

"If this was a Klingon ship I would execute you both," Picard said icily, pushing them apart. "As this is not a Klingon cruiser, sit down." He glanced around. "Everyone else, dismissed."

Elle hustled out the door, sending a small, forlorn salute to the destroyed buffet table. "Your sacrifice will not be in vain," she promised.

Riker put an arm around her shoulders and ruffled her hair. "Dessert, Miss Chaos-bringer?"

"Ooh."

-/\-

When Elle woke up the next morning, the Enterprise was en route for Q'onos. "Guess we made a decision after all," Elle mused, and almost made her way to the bridge to check it out. Discretion as the better part of valor (we are not Klingon) won the battle, and she went to class instead.

"Did you hear?" Jenna dropped into the seat next to Elle. "We're going to Q'onos!"

"Yeah," Elle said.

Jenna propped her chin on her fist. "And?"

"And what?" Elle asked, opening her datapad to the right material.

"And is it true?" Jenna lowered her voice. "Is the Klingon commander Worf's brother?"

Elle gaped at her. "How did you even hear that?"

"There was a brawl in the captain's mess, supposedly," Jenna continued in a hush.

Elle snorted. "No kidding."

"And?"

"And nothing," Elle said, grinning. "Nosey-parker."

"Aw, c'mon, Elle."

"No. I haven't even heard anything since yesterday, so I know less than nothing."

Jenna scowled playfully. "Liar."

"Operational security," Elle enunciated.

-/\-

The Enterprise arrived at the Klingon homeworld. The captain, Worf, and Kurn beamed down. "Now what?" Elle asked.

Riker tugged lightly at her braid. "Now we wait. Sit down, tell me more about these Geordi-abductions."

"Excuse me?" La Forge asked, leaning over the central console. "Abductions?"

-/\-

Captain Picard and Worf beamed back a few hours later. Worf looked grim.

Elle stared at them, rabidly curious. "What, uh, how'd it go?" she asked, trying or casual.

"We prevented a Klingon civil war," Picard said, after a moment.

"Ah." Elle patted Worf on the arm. "Good job. Your services will be rewarded. Eventually. Honor intact."

"And what do you know about it?" he grumbled, not unkindly.

"Enough to know that you're a good older brother," Elle replied, and gave him a hug.

He patted her on the back, and didn't look too displeased. "You were correct, by the way. He was fat."

Elle collapsed into giggles.

"What's happening?" Riker asked, confused.

"Telepathic communion," Picard said, poker-faced.