Day of Honor 01_ Ancient Blood - Diane Carey [79]
“It’s supposed to be a lesson in honor,” Picard pointed out, “Strange how it’s working out, though—”
“It was my idea!” Alexander repeated. “I got to pick the way the Day of Honor was taught to me, and I picked my ancestor’s journal from Earth. I’m part-human, too, you know.” He cocked a hip, folded his arms, and raised his chin. “And I’m figuring out a few things about honor that I don’t think you know.”
Worf dripped and stared. He looked over Alexander’s head to Picard. “Captain! What are you teaching him?”
“I’m not teaching him,” Picard said. “I’m guiding him. These people you see around us are doing the teaching. He’s coming to his own conclusions. Isn’t that the idea? Of course, we’re not finished—”
“And we’re going to finish.” Alexander came up on his toes, to be noticed between the two men. He ignored Picard, and spoke directly to his father. “I’m going to stay here with Sandy until I hear everything he’s got to say. You don’t have any business telling me how to learn about honor.”
Not liking the sudden discord that he felt was his fault, Picard stepped to the boy’s side. “Alexander, that’s enough.”
“What are you talking about?” Worf demanded, glowering down at his son.
Alexander tightened his folded arms. “You say you have honor, but you won’t face up to Mrs. Khanty. You’re throwing away a chance to win. You won’t stick up for Uncle Ross.”
Stunned, Worf wiped the soup from his face and glared at Picard again. “Sir! How did he find out about that?”
“Because I’m old enough to know,” Alexander said, insisting that the conversation remain focused on him instead of going over his head between the two adults. “You won’t say that you saw what Ross saw, even if it saves his life and catches that Mrs. Khanty.”
Facing his son’s disdain, Worf was kicked in the heart as no challenge from any bruising enemy ever could.
Picard’s own chest tightened with empathy and the wish that he could spare Worf this torture. What could he say—what could any parent say—that would not sound shallow, empty? He was endangering a real, living, precious person so an ethereal concept could retain its integrity.
“Alexander,” he began with effort, “I will not lie.”
“You mean you won’t embarrass yourself,” the boy kicked back. “You know she’s wrong, don’t you? And you won’t do one thing to save a whole planet.”
“I told you,” Worf steamed, watching his son’s respect for him dissolve before his very eyes. How could he snatch it back? “I refuse to lie.”
“You’re already lying!” the boy countered, unfolding his arms as if preparing to wrestle. “Your whole mission was a lie! You were never just hiding out on Sindikash like you told them! Isn’t that a lie? You’re not a Rogue! Isn’t that a lie? Your whole existence there was lie after lie. Do you think you have to say words to be lying?”
Riker leaned past the captain and plucked at the holocheese. “He’s right about that, Worf. Can’t deny it.”
“Mr. Riker,” Picard muttered. “You’re not helping …”
“Sorry, sir.”
Worf ignored them, smoldering in the confusion of what to do. Here he was, this huge warrior, nearly pathetic and sad with this fundamental loss, which no battle or angry demonstration could mend. He could not simply order his son to respect him. What did parents do in these moments?
“Alexander,” he attempted, hoping to reinstate something, “you should not be speaking to me this way.”
Picard held up a quieting hand. “The boy has a good point, Mr. Worf. Any covert mission is by nature a lie. We all lie at some time or another, to protect or spare others. Anyone who says he never lies is lying as he says it.”
“That’s not the point!” Alexander spoke up again. He squared off before his father. “If you can protect Grant by telling something you know is true, even if you didn’t see it, why won’t you do that? How is it honorable to do one right thing and let a bigger wrong thing happen? You think it’s honor to let people die because you won’t say one thing? How important can it be? Grant’s gonna die because you won’t tell