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Worf reacted as if he’d been slapped.

The captain apparently noticed this. “No offense was intended, Mr. Ambassador. I’m just—concerned, is all. Before the Dominion War, the alliance was the only thing that was maintaining galactic peace. During the war, it was the only reason why we won. Now—I don’t know what to think. The Romulans and the Breen have gone quiet, and every time that damn Bajoran wormhole opens, I’m expecting a fleet of Jem’Hadar ships to come through and start the war all over again.” She looked at Worf with deep black eyes that suddenly reminded Worf of Deanna Troi’s. “I joined Starfleet to maintain peace in the Federation, not to wage its wars.” Before Worf could say anything in reply, Demitrijian held up a hand. “I’m sorry, I’m philosophizing.” She grinned. “Comes with the big chair, it seems.”

“So I have observed.”

At that, Demitrijian laughed. “I’ll bet. You’ve probably been ferried on a lot of different ships over the years.”

Blinking, Worf said, “I was referring to my time in Starfleet. I served as an officer on the Aldrin, the Enterprise, and at Deep Space 9 for fifteen years before I was appointed ambassador.”

It was Demitrijian’s turn to blink. “Really? I didn’t know that. Hmp. Well, maybe there’s hope for the alliance after all, then.” She straightened, her face growing more serious. “Sorry to have taken your time, Mr. Ambassador. I hope you’ve enjoyed your stay on my ship.”

Worf inclined his head.

After the captain took her leave, Worf finished packing, considering her words. Worf had met Special Emissary Pagro a few times, and had no doubt that he would make a fine president. But, Captain Demitrijian’s assumption to the contrary, Worf had not heard any of Pagro’s speeches as a candidate, having been far too busy the past fortnight with problems of his own. If he is advocating breaking the alliance, I will need to know about it. If nothing else, I suspect someone on the High Council will question me about it this afternoon.

“Computer,” he said, grabbing a padd, “copy all of the public speeches by Governor Nan Bacco and Special Emissary Fel Pagro since they were declared presidential candidates to this padd.”

“Working.” A moment, then: “Transfer complete.”

By the time the Sugihara entered orbit, Worf had only had time to view the two candidates’ initial speeches, but it was enough. Pagro wasn’t just questioning the alliance, he all but said he would dissolve it unless the Klingons changed their ways. That, he thought, will never happen. Either Pagro was a complete fool, or he was a warmonger, because the only possible outcome of his proposed agenda would be war between the Federation and the empire.

Wu greeted him when he beamed to the embassy grounds, which had been fully repaired, with yet another upgrade to the security system. As they walked through security at the front gate and thence to the turbolift, Worf paid only partial attention to the lengthy list of items he had to deal with after the meeting, but one thing Wu said grabbed his attention: “The members of Klahb all turned on each other. Each was happy to sacrifice the others, and they all were happy to sacrifice Rov. Alexander did his work well.”

It was the mention of his son in particular that drew his notice. As they exited the turbolift to the second-floor landing, he asked, “What did Alexander do?”

After Wu explained how Alexander was able to sow seeds of discontent among the Klahb members, Worf beamed with paternal pride. He had barely had any time to speak with Alexander in the chaos that followed the embassy takeover, and so had known none of this.

“Make a note for me to contact Alexander on the Ya’Vang to thank him.”

“That won’t be necessary, sir. He has remained in the First City—the High Council requested he be detached to the investigation, since he was the only Defense Force soldier present.”

Worf nodded. “In that case, I will wish to speak with him after I meet with the council.”

Wu made a note on his padd. “Very good, sir. There is one other thing, I’m afraid,