7x21 Firstborn

[7.9/10] There’s a magic trick at the heart of “Firstborn”. At the beginning of the episode, Worf struggles to induct his son into the Klingon way of life he holds dear, while Alexander resists the pressures and wants to go his own way, much to his father’s consternation. At the end of it, it’s Alexander who’s chastising himself for not being enough of a Klingon or a warrior, and Worf who’s reassuring his son that he’s proud of him for forging his own path and being his own person.

If you can remain unmoved when Alexander hugs the father who didn’t always understand him and tells him he loves him in that moment of mutual recognition and acceptance, you are made of sterner stuff than I.

Oh yeah, and the son who hugs him is a grown-up version of Alexander who traveled back in time somehow, became his Klingon house’s consigliere in the past, and nearly killed his younger self in an effort to change a grim future.

Look, it’s a weird premise, even for a sci-fi show. It raises all sorts of questions about how K’Mtar (the name the grown-up Alexander assumes in the past) got her, and if he plans to return to the future or stick around this time period forever, and how and whether he can affect the causality of what comes next or will just create an alternate timeline. (Hello Kelvin Universe fans!)

But honestly, none of that stuff’s really important. What matters is the unique family story, one of intergenerational understanding and affirmation, that blossoms in the confines of this unusual yet piercing plot.

The episode works as both a whodunnit and a character study. When Worf’s attacked by a group of assassins at a Klingon colony, he enlists the help of a conveniently present ally in K’Mtar to uncover who ordered the attack. The chase is fun, giving us the rare interaction between Commander Riker and Quark and bringing back the Duras Sisters, both fun interludes. They give the narrative a point and an urgency beyond K’Mtar’s plan, adding a sense of progress and mystery to the proceedings.

But the answer to the question of who tried to kill Worf turns out to be a circular one. It was K’Mtar himself who staged the attack. He wanted to both ingratiate himself with Worf and to highlight, for both father and son, the urgency of the need for Alexander to become better trained in the ways of the warrior. Lursa and B’Etor were (eminently plausible) red herrings, and as is so often the case in these Next Generation mysteries, the call was coming from inside the house the whole time.

The twist, of course, is that K’Mtar isn’t some villainous attacker, but Worf’s own son. I’ll confess that I remembered the reveal here from childhood. But it’s a testament to the construction of the episode that knowing the twist enhances the impact of K’Mtar’s presence and heightens the emotions of his moments with Worf and young Alexander. That’s the sign of a sound turn in the narrative.

It’s also a tribute to the great work of guest performer James Sloyan who, between this, his turn as a defecting Romulan Admiral in “The Defector”, and his role as Odo’s surrogate father on Deep Space Nine, deserves to be in the Star Trek Guest Star Hall of Fame alongside Jeffrey Combs and Majel Barrett. He’s entirely plausible and poignant as a self-assured but now regretful man on a mission, trying to guide his younger self to avoid what he views as their mistakes.

At the heart of those self-style “errors’ is the question of whether or not Alexander is too human. Worf himself has had to combat those same questions between his adoptive parents and his life in Starfleet. When K’Mtar dismisses Alexander’s “foolish human thoughts” about foundational Klingon myths, or emphasizes the importance of showing an enemy no mercy, or tells him he will never truly be accepted by anyone other than his own kind, it’s easy to mistake K’Mtar for the same sort of close-minded Klingon hardliner Worf’s encountered in the past.

In the light of the reveal though, it becomes apparent that these are not attacks or bigotry, but rather a manifestation of the man who lived through the opposite choices and knows the challenges of where they led him. K’Mtar has empathy for Alexander in a way no one else could, recognizing his fears and losses, and understanding his wants and hopes. But he also knows the path already traveled, and is desperate to avoid where it leads -- to his father’s death.

That’s my favorite part about this. What prompts Alexander to go back in time isn’t some galactic calamity or Klingon disaster or even something bad that happens to him. It’s a desire to protect his father. There’s even foreshadowing in the Klingon festival they attend, where what prompts Alexander to join in the festivities is a desire to protect his dad in a Kahless-themed LARP. Likewise, what makes his future self rethink his iconoclasm and willingness to buck tradition comes when his attempts to do so result in assassins killing his father.

For however much Worf and his son may butt heads or not see eye-to-eye in the present, K’Mtar losing his father is enough to make him rethink his whole life. It makes sense. Alexander already lost his mother. There’s a natural fear of losing the other parent. There’s an instinctual desire to protect the man who raised you, who was your only parent for most of your life. K’Mtar’s reassurance to Worf, that one day his son will appreciate all Worf did for him, carries extra weight when you know who K’Mtar really is. That he would go to such lengths, even contemplate erasing his own existence to save his father’s, is a tribute to how much Worf still means to him after all those years.

In essence, the story is a referendum on Worf as a father and Alexander as a person. K’Mtar’s lessons to his younger self are about the importance of their people’s methods and traditions, the ones Worf’s worked so diligently to instill in his child. He worries he became a bad leader for the House of Mogh by casting too many of those lessons off, seeking diplomacy and peace instead of vengeance and an honorable death.

In the end, though, Worf would trade his own honorable death in order to preserve his son’s uniquely honorable Klingon life. He accepts his son as he is, vindicates his choices, and understands how Alexander will honor both of his parents in the path he follows in life. Their love cuts across rituals, cuts across years, and cuts across death itself. “Firstborn” opens with Worf bristling at his son’s unwillingness to follow Klingon rituals, and ends with him affirming his son’s courage to find his own way, no matter the cost. It is a heartening a parental scene as you’re likely to find on TNG, and one of Worf and Alexander’s finest, and most revealing hours.