Possession - J.M. Dillard [12]
Worf pressed his lips tightly together as he felt his temper climb, but controlled it with the ease of long practice. He drew a long even breath and said, “It is true that Klingons excel in those areas. However, we have specialists in all fields of science, as must any race who would maintain its technological expertise.”
Something about her direct eye contact unsettled him, and with a sudden flash of insight that came from being raised by humans, he realized she was attracted to him—and growing more attracted as his temper flared. The reaction was something he would have expected only from a Klingon female, and it startled him.
“I’m sure that is the case,” Dr. Dannelke agreed smoothly, her strange blue eyes focused directly on his, her lips quirking faintly upward in a coy half-smile. “However, no Klingon scientist agreed to join the TechnoFair.”
Worf felt blood rushing to his own face. “You misunderstand. To a Klingon, revealing scientific findings to the public at large grants knowledge to friend—and foe—alike. The Klingon High Command considers participating in the TechnoFair a security risk.”
“Of course,” she agreed—too easily. “And the science that is your area of expertise?”
He swallowed, realizing he’d been trapped into fulfilling her stereotyped view of Klingons. “I am in charge of tactical on the bridge. I am chief of security.”
“Well,” she said, still with that faint little half-smile, “I’m sure no one would even dream of violating the rules around here, knowing who would come to escort them to the brig!” She paused. “Does Alexander take after his mother?”
They both glanced at the child. For one split second, Worf was caught off-guard by the apparent non sequitur—and then it occurred to him: Alexander’s ancestry was visible even to this stranger’s eye. The boy was paler, smaller, more delicate than his father, with less well-defined skull ridges that betrayed his human blood.
Worf’s eyes narrowed and he breathed slowly through his nose. It was not the first time he’d heard the kind of veiled innuendo he detected in this woman’s question. He’d heard it all through his childhood, all through his years of study in the Academy, even as he came up through the ranks. He was no longer used to it, though; he had certainly never heard it since he’d come aboard this ship.
In the quietest voice he could manage, he murmured, “Dr. Dannelke. Are you implying that, as a full-blooded Klingon, I am incapable of passing on to my son the intelligence he needs to study the sciences?”
Her eyes widened sharply, but at the same time, she gave the impression of being secretly—and vastly—amused. “I wouldn’t have the nerve, Lieutenant.”
Before Worf could think of a response, Alexander interrupted, crowing, “Look, Father! Look what I made it do!”
Both adults glanced up at the hologram as the giant eyeball slowly blinked, then began to melt, dripping green and red ooze as the eye stared about itself in horror.
“Yes, I’d say he was your son, all right,” Dannelke said, grinning.
Swallowing a Klingon expletive, Worf grabbed the boy’s arm. “Come along, Alexander. There are many more displays to see.”
His son handed over the remote and thanked Dannelke politely; as Worf hustled the youngster away from the stand while unsuccessfully struggling with his resentment, Alexander looked up at him and said happily, “That was fun, Father! I’m glad we came. And you know what? I liked that lady! She kind of reminded me of Mother.”
Worf could only swallow his outrage at his son’s innocent statement. As calmly as he could, he growled, “That woman is nothing like your mother!”
Moments earlier, as Worf and Alexander left to explore the fascinating hologram, Deanna suddenly felt Will’s hands on her shoulders. He leaned down to murmur softly, “Are you all right?”
She looked at him quizzically.
“Do you think you’re the only one who can sense things?” he teased. “I’ve known you a long time, Deanna. I can tell when you’re troubled. Let me counsel the counselor. What is it?”