Worf stayed awake late into the night watching over the body of Jadzia…It had been many days since he had slept. Sisko, Bashir, O’Brien…they’d all tried convincing him to rest, even Martok. He couldn’t. And he did not know how to explain it to them, not anymore. Their patience had ran out. His had not.
The silence, though, had become oppressive. Jadzia had never…allowed space to be filled with so much of it. In that moment that was what he missed most. He needed to hear…
He requested the computer play the Ballad of Dartog. Since he was a boy he had always found comfort in it, a connection to his lineage that often proved…elusive. Dartog was a warrior of the generation after Kahless, whom many Klingons honored with establishing the foundation of the new way Kahless had introduced into their society. Kahless had been unforgettable…Dartog hadn’t had such luxury. In fact his role had been thankless, and for three generations he had been forgotten.
A playwright brought him back into polite society, and then the opera had been composed, and from it, the Ballad.
Worf found the idea of Dartog’s rediscovery…comforting. Perhaps a part of him yearned to be found by his own people…But that had never happened. He joined Starfleet, and his debut in Klingon society was…complicated. He met his brother, he fought for the honor of his late father. And he met his son.
Listening to the Ballad now…Worf realized he’d heard that voice before. It was Alexander’s. He’d had no idea. Their relationship had been repaired, but they had never again lived as father and son. He still missed…much of his son’s life, it seemed.
It was a good voice. He opened a communications link, and found Alexander…busy. So he left a message. He talked about the Ballad, he talked about Jadzia, he talked about the war…Alexander’s service had become…acceptable. He didn’t mention how he appreciated his son’s talent. He thought it was implied.
When he brought it up with Martok, it was only in recommending the recording. Martok recognized Alexander immediately. Worf ground his teeth. Of course he had known…
After this war, he knew now the path his son would follow. He felt…pride.
