CHAPTER 2

As Worf entered his quarters, he saw that the light was on in Alexander's room. And that Alexander himself was at his desk, studying his monitor.

The security chief temporarily put aside his concern for the captain's condition and approached his son.

Noticing him, Alexander looked up and smiled. He had the smell of cookies and milk about him, though a human might not have noticed. "Hi, Father."

Worf didn't smile back. It was late—well after ten o'clock.

"Alexander... should you not be in bed?"

The boy shrugged. "I have an organic-chemistry exam tomorrow morning, and there are a few things I'm still fuzzy on."

The security chief grunted and moved to his own room. He could hardly fault Alexander for taking his studies so seriously. What's more, he felt badly that he hadn't spent much time helping with them lately.

However, he'd had other things on his mind. Things that he could not seem to ignore. Like Deanna.

Removing his casual clothes, he changed into his uniform and noted how comfortable it made him feel—more so than any other garb. Commander Riker had ordered several scans done, in order to determine if the captain had indeed left the ship for some period of time. He was to report to the bridge as soon as he was properly attired.

As he reached for his heavy, ceremonial sash, he saw Alexander standing at the threshold. He was still smiling. "You were with Deanna, huh?"

Worf gave his son a quizzical look. "What makes you say that?"

"I can always tell," the boy replied—and padded back to his room on bare feet.

The security chief followed him there. "What do you mean, you can 'always tell'?" he asked.

Alexander peered at his monitor. "She puts you in a good mood. Whenever you spend time together, you come back with a smile on your face."

Worf straightened. "I was not smiling when I came in the door."

His son turned to him. "Dad... I know when you're smiling, even when no one else does." He paused. "You like her. It's obvious."

The Klingon wasn't comfortable admitting it—but he couldn't deny Alexander's observation altogether. "Counselor Troi is a... close friend," he said. "That is all."

The boy nodded. "Right." And without another word, he went back to his studies.

Worf thought for a moment. It had not been so long since Alexander's mother had died from an assassin's attack—and right before the boy's eyes. He did not wish to cause his son any more trauma than was necessary.

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 recommend 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?"

Worf nodded. "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, Worf." And he did. But he resolved to look in on the captain as soon as his own tour was over. With any luck, this incident would turn out to be nothing... but one never knew.