Chapter Four

The image on the screen snapped from the orbiting view of a small, brown planet to the creased face of an aging Klingon secretary. She glared out at the Enterprise bridge crew through sharp, dark eyes, her softly crimped gray hair falling over the padded shoulders of her stiff, silvery dress.

"You're the ship that's come about Governor Worf?" she said gruffly.

Data rose from his command chair. "Yes. I am Commodore Data of the Federation starship Enterprise," the android stated. "We were hoping you—"

"Yes, yes, save your Federation pleasantries for someone who cares," the woman said. Data noticed that her eyes were rimmed with red, and she seemed tired and irritable. "The governor's ship is yours to do with as you please. What's left of it, that is. You'll find a copy of our analysis in its computer bank. As for what may have happened to the governor, I won't speculate. I do know he left me with a backlog of work going back some three years, work that it is now my responsibility to sort out! I don't appreciate that, Commodore Data. I don't appreciate it at all."

Data tilted his head. "I have always understood Worf to be most efficient, particularly when it comes to carrying out the particulars of his duty."

"Maybe he was…once," the woman acknowledged. "But that was before."

"Before…?" Data prompted.

She glared for a long moment, then lowered her gaze with a slight grunt. "Well, he's most likely dead now so there's no harm telling you. Governor Worf was the most cantankerous, impossible to please old man I've ever had the misfortune to work under. At first we put it down to wounded pride—he did lose his seat on the High Council when the new government was voted in after all, and we here on H'atoria are the first to admit our colony is hardly the most prestigious outpost in the Empire. But it's more than that. There was something dark in that man. Something angry and unfulfilled. I gather he had a brother once, and a son. Even a wife. But he would never talk of them. Not once, in the four years I've known him. It's not natural for a Klingon not to speak of his House and family, but Worf kept his silence, as though he was carrying a great shame. The only time I saw him smile was when he was off to judge those foolish bat'leth contests of his."

At the back of the bridge, by Science Station Two, Alexander turned his head away from the viewscreen, his heart a painful weight in his chest. Could it be that, even after all these years, all his accomplishments, his father was still ashamed of him? Had it truly been that important to the old man to see his only son battle his way up the ranks as a Klingon warrior…rather than the peace-endorsing Starfleet bureaucrat he had become?

"Ambassador, are you all right?" the Vulcan, Asil, inquired from the seat beside him. Alexander stood up, unwilling to acknowledge in public how deeply the secretary's words had cut him. Instead, he strode down the side ramp toward the viewscreen.

"Excuse me," he said, inadvertently interrupting the commodore just as he was opening his mouth to address the secretary. Commander Kinoshita shot him a warning stare, but Alexander strode forward until he was standing beside the commodore at the center of the bridge. "Excuse me," he said again, "But when my—the governor… When the governor left your colony, did he say anything about the course he planned to take? If he intended to make any unusual stops?"

"Well, well. And what is this?" The woman raised a graying eyebrow at Alexander, looking his Federation clothes over with obvious contempt. "From his clothing and his paunch it is clear this man is no warrior, so he must be a diplomat. The Klingon Contradiction himself, if I'm not mistaken, for who else would wear a Federation garment and still call himself a patriot of the Empire?"

Data and Kinoshita shared a look, surprised by her tone. Alexander bared his teeth with a slight growl. "Your rudeness does nothing to answer my question," he said.

"So, the Federation's peace-lover can be riled." She smiled, clearly displaying her pointed brown teeth. "Could his heart perhaps be Klingon after all?"

Alexander glared, seeming to inflate slightly in his anger. The secretary's grin broadened, and her expression slowly shifted to something far warmer. The ambassador frowned, confused by this change, until she said, "You should know, Ambassador, that my son was stationed at Beta Thoridor when the terrorists swarmed the city. I thought at that time I would be left alone, the last of my House, with only cold stone and the memory of a son's honorable sacrifice to comfort me in my old age. Yet, because of your negotiations, my son still lives, and I now have a grandson to carry on our family name. I will answer your questions."

Alexander nodded, an unexpected flush of gratification soothing the pain in his heart. Still, it disturbed him that she didn't seem aware of his relationship with the governor she had worked with for four years. If his father hadn't spoken of him to her, even at the height of the Beta Thoridor negotiations when her own son's life was at stake... Alexander shook his head, unwilling to ponder any possible meanings for his father's silence in the presence of the Enterprise bridge crew-particularly the Betazoid, Jemma Elbrun, who was staring at him with a curiously unreadable expression.

The secretary looked up from her computer terminal and shook her head.

"No, the governor's flight plan shows a straightforward course to Starbase 123," she said, "no deviations. I can send you the records if you like."

"Please do," Data said. "And please include all other records pertaining to Worf's activities since he took the governorship of H'atoria."

"But that goes back four years," she said. "You'll never get through them all."

Data gave a little smile. "I am a fast reader," he said. "Thank you for your help. It is appreciated."

The overworked secretary grunted, and ended the conversation. The viewscreen snapped back to the planet's rocky surface.

"Transmission cut at the source," Lt. Devna dutifully reported.

"Commodore," Alexander said as the bridge officers turned to him. "I apologize for butting in like that. It was not my intention to—"

"No," Data said. "The conversation was most illuminating. Tell me, Ambassador, have you spoken with your father since he took this post?"

Alexander averted his gaze. "It shames me to say I have not," he said. "These past few years, we have exchanged no more than a few quick communiques. You will remember, Commodore, that my father and I rarely saw eye to eye. About anything. I had thought our relationship had improved after my appointment as ambassador was confirmed, but now... Perhaps it was only my wishful thinking." He straightened his posture, all too aware of Lt. Elbrun's piercing eyes on his back. "Commodore," he said, "I believe I would like to see my quarters now. If that is all right."

"Certainly," Data said. "Commander Kinoshita will show you the way."

Alexander nodded and followed the First Officer to the turbolift, no longer able to hide the exhaustion that trailed his steps. That conversation with his father's secretary had indeed been 'illuminating', as Data had said. But Alexander knew he'd need some time before he could come to terms with all the feelings it had brought to light.

To Be Continued...