All Good Things__ - Michael Jan Friedman [3]
And yet, if his relationship with the counselor continued in the direction it was going in… well, it would be unfair not to sound the boy out on the subject. After all, his life would be affected as well.
“But if that were not the case,” the security chief said, opening the conversation again, “if Deanna were more than a friend to me… how would you feel about that?”
Alexander looked up with barely contained excitement. “You mean it? You’re going to start seeing her romantically?”
The Klingon held up a hand. “I did not say that. I was merely posing a… hypothetical situation.”
The boy tried out the word. “Hypo… thetical. That means it’s possible, right?”
Worf shrugged. “Well… yes.”
Alexander considered the prospect. When he responded, it was with great seriousness. “Then… hypothetically, you understand… I would approve.”
The Klingon nodded. He was greatly pleased, even if he didn’t show it. “I will see you later,” he assured the boy. “After I have performed some special scans.” He paused, for effect. “And when I come back this time, I expect you to be in bed—sleeping.”
His son nodded. “Yes, sir.” Then, almost as an afterthought: “And say hi to Counselor Troi for me.”
Worf scowled. He didn’t like being teased, even by Alexander. “I will,” he said, and departed for the bridge.
“The Iron Feather?” Geordi repeated. “Interesting title.”
“Yes,” said Data, who was walking along beside him in the gently curving corridor. His voice echoed slightly from bulkhead to bulkhead. “It is the latest work by Christian McCloy… the story of one man’s journey of self-discovery set against the chaos of mid-twenty-first-century Earth.”
“The post-atomic horror,” the chief engineer noted. He grimaced. “Not my favorite period in Terran history.”
“Nor mine,” agreed the android. “However, I found it to be a most engrossing work of fiction. I highly recom-mend it.”
Geordi nodded. “I see. And is there a holodeck version?” “I do not believe so,” Data replied.
In that case, the human wasn’t all that interested. But he didn’t want to offend his companion, so he didn’t say that.
“You know, Data, I think I’d rather be in the story than just read about it. So thanks for the offer, but I’ll take a rain check.”
The android glanced at him. For a moment, the engineer expected to have to explain his colloquialism. Then Data turned away again, so apparently no explanation was needed.
Without question, Geordi’s artificial friend had come a long way since he’d first set foot on the Enterprise. For one thing, he no longer took people’s words so literally. And for another, his mastery of behavioral nuances was such that… sometimes… one could almost forget he was an android.
As they stopped by a turbolift, Data turned to him again. “Although I have found the holodeck to be a most effective means of expanding my understanding of existing works, I still find the experience of reading the author’s original narrative to be the most—”
He was interrupted by the swish of the opening lift doors. To be continued, Geordi mused—whether I like it or not.
As they stepped in, however, they saw that Worf was already in the compartment. That raised a question in the engineer’s mind. “What’s wrong?” he asked the security chief.
Worf frowned. “How do you know that something is wrong?”
“I believe,” Data interjected, “it has something to do with your being in uniform, when your next tour of duty is several hours from now.” Geordi nodded. “Exactly.”
The Klingon’s frown deepened. “It is the captain,” he said at last. “He was in the corridor just a little while ago. Wandering about in his bathrobe.” The engineer couldn’t believe it. “Really?”
Woffnodded. “He asked what stardate it was. As if he had no idea.” “That does not sound like Captain Picard,” the android noted. “Has it been determined what was wrong with him?”
The security chief shook his head. “Not yet. Counselor Troi is with him now.” He paused. “I think that is all I should say. After all, there are questions of privacy here and—”
Geordi held up his hand. “Go no further. I understand,