Resistance - J.M. Dillard [6]
But Jadzia had been injured in a surprise attack and began to slowly bleed to death. Warrior that she was, she had struggled to fulfill her duty for as long as she had been able, hiking alongside her husband through treacherous terrain. At last, the loss of blood left her unable to take another step. If Worf continued on to the rendezvous point, there was no doubt that Jadzia would be dead before he could return to her.
Worf’s choice had been clear: save his wife’s life, or obey his duty and keep his meeting with Lasaran.
He had chosen duty at first, at Jadzia’s urging. But each step that took him farther away from her caused his determination to falter; with each step, his love for Jadzia tugged at him until he could resist it no longer and went back to save her.
Afterward, when Jadzia was safe, Captain Sisko had confronted him with the news that, because Worf and Jadzia had not helped Lasaran escape, the Cardassian had been murdered—and his information, which might have helped end the bloody war with the Dominion, was lost with him.
In the end, fate had its way: Jadzia and Worf had only a few more months together before she died—a victim, in a misfortunate place at a misfortunate hour, murdered by a wraith-possessed Gul Dukat.
It was not a death befitting such a proud warrior.
Worf could have given her such a death—performing her duty, in an alien jungle. He could have given her honor, then, and saved his own.
But Captain Sisko had been right: he, Worf, had made the wrong choice. And although Starfleet might be willing to forgive one of their officers such a terrible lapse in judgment, Worf could not. Being first officer of the Enterprise meant that he would at times be in command of the finest vessel in the fleet, a responsibility of which he was unworthy.
Picard remained in his ready room for several moments afterward. Worf assumed that he was already contacting Starfleet Command, informing them of the need for a new first officer.
When Picard at last emerged, Worf leaped to attention, ready to turn the bridge over. But the captain passed by without meeting anyone’s gaze. “As you were,” he said tersely, then moved swiftly for the turbolift.
Once he was gone, Worf resettled into the command chair and sighed. On the viewscreen before him were stars, but all he saw was Jadzia’s face.
Picard hadn’t contacted Starfleet at all; instead, he made up his mind to wait. There was no logic to his decision—none at all—only the nagging intuition that the way to convince Worf to accept the promotion would soon come to him. Perhaps it was foolish; the Enterprise needed a permanent first officer, and the sooner Starfleet was notified of Worf’s refusal, the sooner someone could be found.
Locating an officer of Will Riker’s caliber (or, for that matter, of Worf’s) who happened to be available for reassignment would not be easy.
Just as it had not been easy finding a replacement for Deanna Troi.
Picard thought of Deanna and smiled. What would she say, knowing that he had just chosen to ignore Worf in hopes of changing the Klingon’s mind?
In his mind, he heard her voice—full of both consideration and candor—tinged with that strange throaty Betazoid accent:
Captain, you know very well how stubborn Worf can be. There’s about as much chance of him changing his mind as…
Silently, Picard finished the imaginary statement for her.
…as me changing mine?
He pictured her giving a stern, emphatic nod, with a glimmer of humor in her black eyes. Precisely.
Picard’s smile faded; he sighed. It would never be possible to find another Deanna, or a friendship like the one he’d had with her. Certainly, the new counselor was nothing like her. In fact, it had taken Command some time to convince him, despite her impeccable qualifications, that she was a good match for the Enterprise and its captain.
Picard was focused on the position of ship’s counselor for good reason. On his way to the bridge earlier, he had received notification