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have a good number of personal correspondences, which I forwarded to you unread, obviously.”
    “Good,” Worf said. “Since you are not new to this position, I assume I do not need to tell you that Klingons do not prevaricate. I expect you to speak the truth to me at all times. It is possible that my predecessor had an understandably human need to have her feelings assuaged on certain delicate matters. However, I prefer that you assume there are no such things.”
    “With all due respect, Mr. Ambassador, there are always delicate matters.”
    Worf nodded, conceding the point. “If you do stumble across one of them, I will let you know.”
    Wu nodded. “Understood, Mr. Ambassador.” He gazed back down at his padd. “In addition to your personal correspondences, I have also forwarded to you an up-to-date report on taD, more current than what Minister T’Latrek gave you yesterday. I have also obtained the complete personnel records of the
Gorkon
crew and of Governor Tiral’s staff on taD.”
    “Good,” Worf said again, and he meant it. He had not expected such thoroughness, though he was glad of it.
    “Will there be anything else?” Wu asked.
    “Not at the moment. I will contact you if that changes. Otherwise, I assume I will see you at the reception at 1800 hours in Ten-Forward.”
    Wu blinked. “That is in
your
honor, Mr. Ambassador. I wouldn’t presume—”
    “You serve me,” Worf said. “A reception in my honor is therefore also a reception in yours by extension.”
    Again smiling a small smile, Wu said, “Thank you,sir.” He hesitated, then, apparently taking Worf’s urging not to prevaricate to heart, said, “Your predecessor never liked having staff attend such functions. She said that having us around reminded her too much of work.”
    “A very human attitude.”
    “The ambassador was very human.” Wu put the padd in the pocket of his vest and said, “My quarters are just next door, sir. I am at your disposal any time of the day or night.”
    “Thank you,” Worf said. He moved toward the desk as Wu headed toward the exit.
    “Mr. Ambassador?” Wu said, turning to speak over his shoulder.
    Worf turned to face him. “Yes?”
    “I know we’re only going to be on the ship for a few days, but— Well, I think the statue would look better over there.” Wu pointed at the bureau over which Worf had hung the
bat’leth.
    “I will consider it,” Worf said dryly.
    “Very good, sir.”
    And with that, he left.
    A curious person,
Worf thought. Still, Wu had lived on Qo’noS and worked with Klingons, so he probably wouldn’t have too much trouble dealing with the conditions on the
Gorkon.
Starfleet ships were designed for comfort; Defense Force vessels were meant solely for combat. Often humans had difficulty dealing with the somewhat Spartan conditions—indeed, his comrades on Deep Space Nine had complained about it endlessly whenever events of the Dominion War necessitated travel on a Klingon ship.
    Wu was also right: the statue did look better on the bureau.
    Sitting at the desk, Worf said, “Computer, display personal correspondences, Ambassador Worf.” He then gave his access code.
    Wu had not exaggerated. He had dozens of letters. Most seemed to be of a simple, congratulatory nature, but he decided to plow through them and get it over with.
    There was a note from Ezri, catching him up on what was going on on Deep Space Nine, including the rather surprising news of who had replaced Odo as the security chief on the Promenade. His parents, typically, had sent a message, even though he had seen them less than four hours ago. They ended it with Father saying:
“Son, we
could not be more proud of you. And remember, that we
will always be here for you, no matter what.”
Mother added:
“We love you, Worf.”
    Worf saved both messages, then continued through the other letters. Some were from former
Enterprise
personnel who had moved on to other assignments, including a number of his former