Kahless - Michael Jan Friedman [49]
Normally, he would have been able to control his more feral instincts, no matter the provocation. Serving on the Enterprise had made him skilled at that. But this was different.
The killing of children was a provocation that went to the heart of his being-and not just because it was dishonorable, or because it stirred the memories of his experiences on Khitomer.
Worf was a father. And not so long ago, he had considered sending his son to the academy on Ogat, to make him more of a Klingon.
That was why the faces of those children had cut him so deeply, with their bloodless lips and their staring eyes.
That was why he had lost control of himself and reverted to savagery.
Because to him, every one of those faces had been Alexander’s.
Troi found Will Riker in the captain’s ready room, taking care of ship’s business at the captain’s computer terminal. As she entered, he leaned back in his chair, his expression speaking volumes.
“And people ask me why I turned down my own command,” he sighed.
“Red tape?” she asked.
“By the cargo hold full,” he said. “What can I do for you, Deanna?”
“It’s about Alexander,” she told him. “He’s not himself lately. And I think I know why.”
Riker guessed at the answer. “The boy’s having a hard time coping with his father’s absence?”
“Certainly,” said Troi, “he’s worried about his father coming back in one piece-but not as much as you might think. He has a lot of confidence in Worf, after all.”
“Then what’s on his mind?” the first officer asked.
The counselor frowned. “Alexander wouldn’t tell me, of course. It’s as if he’s trying to be like his father-strong and silent. So on a hunch I checked the computer log, to see if he’d been exposed to anything disturbing.”
“And?” said Riker.
Her frown deepened. “I found out he had read those scrolls the captain told us about. The ones concerning Kahless.”
The first officer regarded her, then leaned forward and tapped out a few commands on his padd. A moment later, he read the information contained on the screen.
“I see what you mean. Alexander accessed the contents of the scrolls night before last. And it seems he spent quite a bit of time with them.” He shrugged. “Now what?
Are you going to confront him with this?”
Troi shook her head. “No. As much as he likes me, as much as he trusts me, I don’t think I’m the one he wants to talk to.”
It took the first officer a moment or two to figure out what she meant. “You mean you want me to talk to him?”
“It would be a big help,” the Betazoid noted. “Besides, it’ll give you a chance to see how much fun my job is.”
Riker eyed her. “If I’d wanted to be a counselor, Counselor, I would’ve applied to the University of Betazed.” His features softened. “On the other hand, I can’t let poor Alexander swing in the wind. Just what is it you’d like me to do?”
Troi told him.
The Heroic Age It was the season of Growing.
The river that led to Kellein’s village was swollen with flood, rushing between its banks as if it had somewhere important to go. The overhanging micayah trees were sleek and heavy with dark green nuts, which somehow managed to hover just above the glistening water.
As Kahless led his men along the same path he’d traveled the year before, Vathraq’s village loomed ever closer. He recognized the dark walls, the dark keep, the dark tower. The rows of fruit trees that extended in every direction. And of course, the smell of manure.
It was just as he remembered it. More than ever, he was aware of the jinaq amulet his betrothed had given him. It lay against his chest, a promise yet to be fulfilled.
Kahless smiled at the thought of his betrothed. He imagined the look on her face when she spotted the outlaw band making its way down from the hills. The joy in her sharp-toothed grin, the quickening of her pulse.
He almost wished he could catch her bathing again and surprise her as he had before. But that would be too much to ask, he knew. It was ample cause for thanks that he had made it through the Cold.
As he led his men closer, the track dipped and then rose again, lined now on the