A Time for War, a Time for Peace - Keith R. A. DeCandido [3]
It was the Dominion War that gave Alexander purpose. He enlisted in the Defense Force, serving on several ships during the conflict. Though the youth would never be mistaken for a great warrior, he did eventually grow into a decent soldier.
In the years since the war, father and son had come to a certain peace, for which Worf was grateful. His failures with Alexander had always gnawed at him, made him feel as if he had betrayed K’Ehleyr in some way. She deserved better than that—as did their child. To make matters worse, the Ya’Vang had been at the fore-front of the fleet that the Defense Force had sent to Tezwa. Though Worf’s actions in stopping the fleet were primarily committed in order to preserve the peace and save Klingon lives, that he was able to rescue his son from a pointless death was never far from his thoughts.
The intercom on Worf’s desk beeped. The voice of Damir Gorjanc, one of the embassy staff, spoke: “Sir, you have a coded message from Earth.”
“That,” Wu said, “will no doubt be T’Latrek.”
“No doubt.” To Gorjanc, Worf said, “Put it through.”
Expecting the Vulcanoid features of T’Latrek, Worf was surprised to instead see the teal-hued face and horned head of another member of the Federation Council, one Worf had first met almost a decade earlier.
“Councillor Ra’ch. It is good to see you again.”
“Likewise, Mr. Ambassador.” Ra’ch B’ullhy, the former governor of Damiano, smiled. “We’ve both come a long way since you saved my life at my inauguration.” Worf, then security chief of the Enterprise, had prevented an assassination attempt on Ra’ch’s life when she took office. “You’re an ambassador, and I’m the president pro tem.”
“Congratulations.”
Ra’ch’s face went sour. “Easy for you to say—you’re safe on Qo’noS. Believe me, I didn’t want this. But since I’m stuck with the responsibility, I wanted to let you know how this needs to be presented to the High Council.”
Worf wondered if this was why Ra’ch rather than T’Latrek was making the call. While the notion that Vulcans never lied, much like the notion that Klingons never did, was more ideal than reality, that didn’t change the fact that most Vulcans were uncomfortable with falsehood.
“I assume,” he said dryly, “that the truth is to be avoided at all costs.”
“Good assumption. As far as Chancellor Martok is concerned, this is a decision that both Zife and Azernal have been contemplating for quite a while, and they felt that the time was right to make the announcement.”
“And if they ask why there were no indications of this—contemplation prior to now?”
“The fact that the president and his primary aide are about to resign is hardly something they want to spread around. The tightest possible security was kept on this to maintain stability and not jeopardize the president’s ability to do his job.”
Worf nodded. “He did not want to appear to be a lame duck.”
Ra’ch frowned. “I’m sorry?”
Shaking his head, Worf said, “My apologies. It is a human metaphor, applying to someone in a position of power whose days in that position are known to be coming to an end.”
“Oh.” Ra’ch was still frowning. “I don’t see what a maimed waterfowl has to do with that.”
“It is a human metaphor. They are often abstruse.”
“True. Is there anything else you need to know, Mr. Ambassador?”
There were, in fact, several things, but Worf had other sources he could call upon for them, ones less busy than the person temporarily serving as president of the largest governmental body in the quadrant. “No. I will be speaking before the council at high sun.”
“Good. I have every faith that you