A Time for War, a Time for Peace - Keith R. A. DeCandido [4]
Worf wasn’t entirely sure he had always done so up until now, but said only: “Thank you, Madam President.”
Ra’ch winced. “For Ho’nig’s sake, don’t call me that. I’m still a councillor, and I plan to stay one. Call the poor unfortunate who wins the election that—they’re welcome to it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have about a dozen other ambassadors to talk to.” She smiled. “It’s good to see you again, Worf.”
“Likewise, Councillor.”
With that, the screen went blank.
Worf turned to Wu. “Have Bey write an official statement incorporating Councillor Ra’ch’s comments. I wish to see it within the hour.” Diplomacy included a great deal of written composition, which was not Worf’s strong suit. He could write a Starfleet report that was the envy of other officers for its completeness and attention to detail, he could write decent verse if the poem’s subject was sufficiently inspiring, but the language of the official statement from the ambassador’s office continued to elude him. Thankfully, such skills were not required. Bey Toh had been a speechwriter for two first ministers of Bajor, and he joined the embassy staff shortly after that planet had joined the Federation. It hadn’t taken him long to adapt Worf’s particular style of address to the written word.
Making notes on his padd, Wu said, “Of course, sir. Anything else?”
“I assume the resolutions that you had for me yesterday are still needed by the end of the day?”
Wu smiled. “It’s possible that they’ve fallen down the priority queue a bit with this morning’s events, sir, but I haven’t heard anything specific.”
“Very well. I will review them while I wait for my son. Have someone send up some gagh from the galley.”
Wu nodded. “Anything else?”
“That will be all.”
“Very good, sir.”
The aide took his leave. Worf turned back to the terminal and called up the resolutions he had mentioned. If nothing else, it was probably best to get them out of the way; with Zife resigning, there would be a great deal of new business that would require Worf’s attention. In particular he was concerned about how some on the High Council might view the fact that there was a vacuum in the Federation’s power structure, however temporary. There were many in the empire who believed that, with the Dominion War over, there was no longer a need for the Federation and the empire to remain allies, some who even believed that there should be a return to the days before Praxis, when the Federation was just one of a list of enemies the empire intended to crush under its heel.
Tezwa would only add strength to those radicals’ positions.
As the Federation’s representative in the empire, it was Worf’s job to ensure that the empire remained a steadfast ally. His position as a member of the chancellor’s House, and Martok’s own strong feelings about the need for the Federation alliance, would make that job easier, but that did not make said job in any way easy.
At some point, his office chime rang. “Enter.”
A young Klingon woman entered the room, carrying a tray. Worf glanced to see the vermicular creatures in the bowl that sat in the tray’s center. Though the replicators could provide adequate sustenance when necessary, sometimes there was just no substitute for live gagh.
Worf did not recognize the steward. Since he prided himself on knowing the entire embassy staff by sight, he asked, “Who are you?”
The woman stood with her arms folded in front of her. “I am Karra.” No mother, no House, which meant she was a commoner—hardly surprising, given her position as an embassy steward. Those of noble blood would not serve in such jobs, leaving them either to commoners or to jeghpu’wI’. “I began my employment here a week ago.”
A statement that he was not aware of any changes in the kitchen staff died on Worf’s lips. He usually left such minutiae to Wu, more so in the past few months. “Very well,” he said. “You may leave.”
Karra nodded and left the room.
Frowning, Worf called up the embassy staff records. Karra had indeed been hired seven days earlier. In fact,