Moss didn’t hesitate.
“If you seek to harm my world or its people, we will destroy you,” she growled. “There will be no glorious battle. There will be no songs sung of this day. You will simply be dead—and I will be the one to send you on your journey to Gre’thor!”
Martok’s response was some unholy mix of a smile, a growl, and a bloodthirsty chuckle of appreciation.
“You have my word, Madame President,” he rumbled. “We will only defend ourselves if attacked.” A beat passed before he added, “I request a formal meeting at your earliest convenience.”