The lighting in the guest quarters, much like the mood, was subdued.   Worf's countenance clearly communicated to Dax he needed to gather his composure, his thoughts.   Years of companionship taught her not to tread on such private moments, but this time she intuitively knew he needed a rescue.

     "We can sit here quietly, or I could leave, but I don't think either would do you any good," Dax began.
     Worf didn't respond, but slouched further in his chair, head propped up in his hand.   He continued to stare off into a shadowy corner of the room.
     "If you can't tell me what you're thinking, tell me what you're feeling," Dax pressed lightly.
     After a long moment, Worf began, "I feel...like my people will forever regard me as a renegade, a second-class Klingon."
     Dax winced and audibly drew in a deep breath.
     Worf continued, "What Droq asks of me is to stand before all the Empire, and declare myself a misfit."
     "That's not what I heard him ask you to do," Dax politely countered.
     "No?", Worf slowly turned to face her. "You heard his words:   'Because of your affiliation and familiarity...'"
     "'...with other cultures'," Dax interrupted.   "Yes, I heard clearly, and what he asks makes perfect sense to me."
     Worf raised his voice, "I won't do it!"
     "Fine", Dax responded calmly, "Shall I tell Droq, or will you?   He's been waiting..."
     "Who is this Kosh that I should make a public spectacle of myself to rebut him?   He might not even be a Klingon!   For all we know, he could be a Romulan, or a Cardassian, or even a disguised Changeling!   Should I make a fool of myself for that?"

     Dax drew a deep breath to establish her composure.
     "We knew that several organizations-- Klingon organizations-- had already formed to advance the ideals of Kosh's teachings.   What we didn't know was how widespread his influence really is.   Droq said he even suspects that there are sympathizers on the High Council!   Worf, we've seen the billets all over this city.   Klingons wanting to democratically vote for who sits on the High Council?   Like Droq said, if only one member of the Council concedes, there will be a bloodier revolution than this Empire has ever seen."
     She paused and quieted.   "You could be the one to prevent that.   The way I see it, it doesn't matter who Kosh is.   What matters is that he, or they, or whatever, is spreading an ideology that tears at the core of Klingon society.   And it tears at the core of your and my soul, too!"

     Worf shook his head, turning back to stare into empty space.   Dax approached him.   "I think it makes perfect sense for you to be spokesperson against this Civilist Movement.   Worf, you are a Klingon with honor--one who upholds and embodies Klingon tradition."
     "A Klingon with honor who lives amongst humans," he interjected.
     Dax was warmed up now.   "But that's exactly the man we need for this hour!   You heard Droq.   So far, every Klingon that speaks or acts against The Civilists just serves to further their cause.   Any words used to criticize them, they cry rhetoric.   Any aggressive action taken to silence them, they turn into an example of the intolerances of Klingon culture."
     Dax knelt beside Worf's chair to face him eye to eye.
     "You are unique in that you successfully live both sides of the issue -- a proud, traditional Klingon -- one who was raised, works, and lives in a non-Klingon world.   Don't you see the impact you could have in countering Kosh's claims?   You are living proof that the Klingon Way works inside and outside..."

     The door chime sounded, and before either Worf or Dax could respond, one of Droq's battle-dressed servants entered, eyes darting about the room.   Worf and Dax rose to the challenge.
     "What is...," Dax began.
     The Klingon cut her off, "Droq has disappeared."