Chapter Text
The turbolift doors opened and Deanna Troi stepped out into the beige and pale-grey corridors of the Enterprise-D. Will Riker and Worf followed close behind her, and she linked her arms through theirs. “I think we should use the holodeck more often for programs other than battle simulations. I really enjoyed that.”
“It was stimulating,” Worf said.
“Is that all you can say for it? We were walking along the coast of the Black Sea – a location you picked out, I should add – with the moonlight shining all around, and all you can say is ‘stimulating’? I bet Will can do better…” she said expectantly, looking at him.
“Very stimulating,” said Will.
“Oh, you two! It was romantic; it was ethereal…you have to know more adjectives.”
(Worf) “You were not the one lying on the rocks.”
(Deanna) “We had a blanket.”
(Will) “It was only so big. I think I still have gravel in some places I’d rather not mention.”
“Will, you’re joking.”
“Yes,” he admitted, “but I could have gravel on me, if it wasn’t only a hologram.”
They’d reached their quarters on the starboard side of deck 7. Deanna ran her hands up to Will’s shoulders. “Oh, the sacrifices we make for love.” She pulled him down for a kiss. Worf, on her other side, clasped his hands around her waist and bent to kiss her neck.
Suddenly, the turbolift behind them opened and Captain Picard emerged, agitated and dressed in a bathrobe. The trio broke apart to see him hurry up to them and demand to know the stardate.
“It’s 47988,” Will answered. “Is there something wrong, Captain?”
Jean-Luc Picard looked surprised to hear the date, and rubbed his hand over his face. “Somehow…I’m moving through time…”
Chapter 1
Captain’s Log Stardate 52455.5
We completed our escort duty of the supply convoy to the Chin’toka system without any losses. The Jem’Hadar are getting craftier, though. It took longer than we estimated to deal with the patrol we encountered; more and more of the leadership is made up of Alphas – the new breed of soldier the Dominion has created just for our quadrant. To make things worse, there isn’t enough information about the breed to predict much about their tactics.
I can’t tell if the crew is glad to be running escort duty, or wants to get back into a battle. I’m remembering that strike Ross sent us on to the Dominion base – just us and a squadron of Klingon warships. That was fun, I think, though Ens. Fannin, at the conn, was about to be fed up with the constant language-switching. They could never tell if I was talking to them or to the squadrons…I think Worf was having the time of his life, though.
We are heading back to the starbase and awaiting our next orders; there’s a good chance I’ll get them this morning. Regarding my staff, our ship’s counselor is back to full duty and almost completely recovered from the paralysis caused by her aneurysm, I’m very glad to say. Though she still has some mobility issues, it doesn’t interfere with her duties, and is more of a personal irritation.
All in all, we are a fine crew, with a fine ship.
==/*\==
‘I’m ready, Will.’
‘Be right there.’
Will got up from his desk and walked past the table where Worf was getting Kestra into her high chair and Dimitry was trying to climb up into his booster seat, and entered the bedroom. Deanna was standing in the open door of the sonic shower, holding onto the door handle and the edge of the frame on the other side.
“I probably can do this myself, you know.”
“I know you probably could, if you had to, but it’s no trouble to help you. Better to be careful than risk you falling again.” He took her hand and put an arm around her waist.
“Will, I haven’t had a relapse in months. Since February. That’s…four months ago. Eventually, you’ll have to let me get out of the shower by myself.”
He helped her to a chair in the dressing room and went to get a medical device. “As long as you still have to wear this neurostimulator, I will feel better if you let me help.”
“Believe me, I’m looking forward to when I don’t have to wear it, too.” Deanna snapped the thin belt around her waist, then stood easily and went to a drawer to pick out a set of underclothes. “But I will gladly take this ring, that I can wear under my uniform, over those leg braces and cortical stimulators any day.”
“I’m glad Selar found the article describing its development and use.” He went to get her a uniform from a drawer in the bedroom. “How do you think Kessie will do at her first full day of daycare?”
“I think she’ll be fine,” she said as she sat to pull on her trousers. “She’s there more than half the day now.”
“Do you need anything else?” She shook her head. “I’m going to go help Worf with breakfast.” He went out to the main room of their quarters.
Worf was sitting at the table with a bowl of something that he was feeding to Kestra. Dimitry was eating blueberry pancakes, dry, and drinking fruit juice from a spill-proof cup. They had learned long ago not to give the boy anything messy for breakfast, unless they wanted to have to change his outfit after eating. “Where’s Alex?” Will asked.
“I don’t know if he’s up, yet. I haven’t seen him.”
Will went across the room and knocked on his door. “Alex, are you up? You’ve got school, kiddo.”
A grouchy sound was the only response, so Will opened the door and looked in. As the light from the living room spilled in through the door, Alexander pulled the covers up over his head and groaned. “Do I have to get up?”
“You’ve got school, and I think this is the day you have a physics test, isn’t it?”
“Unghh – I don’t need to take the test – I already know all about physics. Ask me anything and you’ll see.”
“I know you will make a good grade, but you still have to get up and take the test.”
“I don’t have any clean clothes.”
“You didn’t do your laundry?” Will looked around at the clothes on the floor.
“I forgot.”
“Well, they have this great thing called a replicator, and it can make you a new, clean outfit in a second. Got any more excuses?”
“No…” The eight-year-old rolled out of bed and stood and stretched. He was tall, less than half a head shorter than Will or Worf. Except for a decimeter or so of additional height, and some more filling out, he was just about full-grown. Looking at him was like looking at an adult Klingon, with two exceptions – he had no facial hair, and he was still very much a kid on the inside. If his recent shift in behavior was any indication, though, jak’tahla was not too far away.
Will left to return to the table. Deanna had taken over feeding Kestra so Worf could get something to eat. Will checked the time. “I’ve got to get to the bridge.” He slipped his vest over his red shirt.
(Deanna) “I’m sure Cdr. Sutton has everything under control; you don’t really have to get there so early.”
“Yeah, but Hank’s gotten so used to seeing me in by 0730 every morning, he’ll think something’s wrong if I’m not.”
(Worf) “You haven’t eaten.”
“I’ll get something in the ready room.” He grabbed his jacket, then leaned down beside Dimitry. “How about a blueberry kiss, Dimmy?” The boy reached over and kissed Will’s cheek. “Have a good day at school.”
Next, he kissed Kestra on the top of her head, where her ridges disappeared into her hairline. “Love you, Kessie,” he said, picking up her small hand so her fingers wrapped around his. He gave Deanna a quick peck on the lips and squeezed Worf’s shoulder on the way out the door.
On the bridge, he nodded to Cdr. Sutton as he stepped out of the turbolift. “Morning, Hank.”
“Good morning, Captain.”
Will got a cup of black coffee and a breakfast sandwich that he brought back to his desk to eat while he activated his computer terminal and began checking his messages. There was one from Admiral Ross. It must not be critical, since he sent it by message rather than calling over subspace. Probably another escort mission.
He read the message containing their new orders. It wasn’t escort duty, but it wasn’t any more dangerous. Riker wrote the admiral back, acknowledging that he had received the orders.
At the morning meeting, he told his staff what their mission entailed. “We’re being sent to the Camaris system. The Vulcan colony on Camari IV was attacked by the Dominion four days ago. Although the fleet was able to repel the invading force, it’s been decided that this colony is too isolated and vulnerable, and should be moved. We are to evacuate the colony and return them to Vulcan.
“They’re being expected to just leave their homes?” asked LCdr. Robin Lefler, the chief engineer.
(Sutton) “Better to leave than to be captured – look at what is still happening on Betazed.” Deanna nodded.
Their chief medical officer, Dr. Selar asked, “How many refugees will we be transporting, Captain?”
Riker checked his padd. “Just over 300. We’ll need to set up a dormitory in a cargo bay to house everyone.” He looked at his Caitian science officer. “Lt. R’Amzi, I’d like you to work with the doctor on accommodations.” The lieutenant nodded.
(Riker) “As you know, the area of space we’ll be traveling through has had a lot of Jem’Hadar activity, but we’ll have the 6th Fleet in the area, which should reduce the likelihood that we’ll run into any trouble. We’ll be there by tomorrow afternoon. Cdr. Lefler, how are the repairs coming along from our last engagement?”
==/*\==
Will didn’t want to have his lunch in his ready room, so instead, he decided to go down to the daycare and see how Kestra was doing. The civilian staff member met him at the door and said that his timing was perfect, because she was just about to feed the children their lunch and he could take care of his daughter.
Kestra was playing in a tub filled with plastic balls. She would pick one up, try to bite it, and then throw it at the wall. She had a good arm, which was no wonder, since Worf was just as dedicated to early-childhood training with Kestra as he’d been with Dimitry. When Kestra saw him, she put down the ball she was about to throw and held up her arms to him, calling out, “Daddy!”
Will was continuously surprised how good her language skills were. He knew that Klingon children develop very quickly in their first year, but Kestra was just eight months old, and only half Klingon. Her ability to say words was as good as Dimitry’s had been at one year, perhaps even better.
Will picked her up and settled her on his hip. “Are you having fun, Kessie?”
“HIja’. Ball.”
“You’re playing ball? Are you hungry for lunch?”
“HIja’”
He carried her over to the replicator and ordered, “Pureed turkey and sweet potatoes, Troi milk formulation, and Riker picnic 4, for one.” A bowl of baby food, a bottle, and a small box appeared. Will carried them all to the table to the side of the room, where there were chairs and baby seats.
In solidarity with Kestra, picnic 4 had a turkey sandwich and potato salad, with sliced apples and a banana for dessert. He’d share the banana with his daughter, but she didn’t have enough teeth yet to eat anything as hard as an apple. She only had four, just enough to bite the breast that fed her, to Deanna’s consternation.
Deanna had asked Worf how long Klingon babies nursed, which he did not know. She had then contacted B’Nara, Kurn’s mate, who told her that females tended to nurse their children for the whole first year, or until the baby became strong enough to break skin with their bites, whichever came first. She said that Gemka was weaned at ten months, but Sulara lasted nearly the whole year. So, Deanna had a way to go, yet.
Thankfully, the replicator could produce a good facsimile of her own milk, for when she was on duty, but Deanna still liked to nurse Kestra at bedtime, and invariably in the middle of the night. B’Nara warned her that that was not likely to end until she was a year old – the rapid growth made the whole night too long to go without a meal.
Will held Kestra on his lap so she could hold her own bottle while he ate his lunch. She’d devoured her bowl of food, and a third of the banana, and as she emptied the bottle, her eyelids grew heavy. She really was a cute little thing. She’d had her first haircut recently, to even it up in the back, and her honey-brown waves reached just to her collar, where Deanna had gathered them into two little tails on either side of her neck.
She’d fallen asleep. Will took the bottle from her gently and set it on the table, then looked down at the sleeping baby. She had Worf’s same ridge pattern, the same that Alexander, and Kurn, and Gemka and Sulara had. Worf had explained that the mother’s gene for ridge formation was silenced during development, so only the father’s gene was active. (This explained why individuals like Kestra or K’Ehleyr, who had a Klingon father, had more developed ridges than people that had a Klingon mother and a human father.) Still, Kestra’s ridges were less pronounced than Gemka’s or Sulara’s – it was clear that she wasn’t a full Klingon.
Will had finished his lunch, and had no reason to stay, other than to continue to hold his baby girl. Sutton had asked him once if he felt different towards Dimitry, who was his biological child, than he did towards Kestra or Alexander, who were not. He admitted that he did feel a sort of connection with Dimitry that he didn’t have with the others, but that didn’t diminish at all how he felt. He loved Alexander absolutely, just as he loved Dimitry and Kestra.
Regretfully, it was time to get back to work. He stood up slowly, and carried Kestra over to a crib. “I love you, Kessie,” he whispered before kissing her on the forehead and lowering her into the bed.
When he got back to the bridge, he saw a message from the day care worker. She had taken a picture of him without him knowing, showing him sitting at the table and looking down at Kestra sleeping in his arms. He’d have to get a print of that one for his office, he thought, and he held the padd up towards the tactical arch to show Worf.
==/*\==
Commander Sutton rang the chime outside Troi’s office. “Enter.” He walked in to see her typing on a padd. She focused on his emotions – he didn’t seem like he was ready to tell her why he’d asked if she had time to talk.
She put the padd away. “This would be a good time to have lunch, between appointments,” letting him know she didn’t view him as a patient, “would you like to join me, Hank?” Just colleagues, chatting over a meal.
“Oh – I guess that would be good, Counselor.”
“Hank, call me Deanna. We’re on our lunch break.” She suited actions to words by walking over to her replicator and ordering a chopped vegetable salad for herself. As she carried it back to her conversation set, she said, “And we do have the same rank, you know.”
“That is right,” he said. He looked uncertain, watching her take a bite of her lunch. “Do you mind if I use your replicator?”
Deanna wondered which replicator he thought he should use aside from hers, but she didn’t think a joke would ease his discomfort, so she answered him matter-of-factly. “I do not mind at all. Please help yourself.” When he sat down with a plate of healthy, appropriately-portioned food, she said, “It’s nice to get to be casual sometimes. You and I are most often working when we’re together, instead of getting a chance to relax.”
“I guess I do push myself to get my work done. I enjoy it, you know. Solving problems.” He smiled easily.
His work calms him, Deanna thought. “Did you always know you wanted to be in command?”
“Me? No. I started out in the science division. I majored in math and physics at the Academy. On my first ship, I was studying cometary trajectories. I discovered two, and one erratic planetoid.”
“That’s impressive.”
“Yep – Sutton-0328-Theta and Sutton-1579-Omicron, and Tilonius IX.”
“How did you get to where you are now?”
“There was an opening in a management position in the operations division, and I saw it as a way to test out my problem-solving skills on a larger scale. I impressed my supervisor, so he recommended to my captain that I might belong in command. When I transferred to the Zhukov, I worked my way up to second officer. And then I heard from Captain Riker, and the rest, you already know.”
“The diversity of your experience probably makes you a better first officer.”
“Yeah. Sometimes I make the joke that since I’ve already collected all of the division colors, the natural thing to do next is to collect all of the pips.”
Deanna smiled. “Was there anything you found difficult as you switched?”
“I’ve never found it easy to make friends, but as long as I had a few colleagues that I got along with, I was satisfied. Being an executive officer, though, whether you’re second in command or even third, people expect you to know everybody and be a people person. That’s sort of what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Good, we got to it, she thought. She purposefully put food in her mouth so she couldn’t talk, and gestured to him to go on.
“Well, I think I need to ask you for some advice. You see, I think I’d like to ask out…this is between us, right?”
Deanna swallowed the food in her mouth. “Absolutely. It’s unethical for a counselor to divulge what is said to them in confidence.”
“Okay.” He breathed out. “I think I’d like to ask out Ens. Fannin, but I don’t really know how this is supposed to work, me being the first officer and all. And I thought you would know, since you dated Cpt. Riker while he was a first officer.”
Yeah, me and half the females on the ship. “And you want to know if it is all right, and what you might need to be careful of before you do?”
He relaxed. “Yes, exactly. I don’t want to mess this up.”
Deanna set her plate down and crossed her legs. “Ens. Fannin is pretty new on the ship. How well do you know them?”
“I’ve worked with them a few times, when I’ve had all of the conn officers together. They have a nice sense of humor.”
“But you’ve never interacted off-duty?”
“No. Do you think that is a bad sign?”
“I think it’s a sign that your relationship is brand-new, or hasn’t even started yet. Asking the ensign out at this point would be a bit of a shock to them, don’t you think?”
“I didn’t think about it that way. What should I do?”
“A good first step might be to have a casual interaction when you are both off duty. Maybe you could have a conversation in Ten-Forward after shift, or if you have the same lunch, like we are doing right now. The point is to get to know them better, and let them get to know you, before you go from casual to more personal.”
“Oh…I’m not good at this. My last relationship crashed and burned, probably because I didn’t think of things like this.”
“Let’s not worry about that happening. Let’s imagine that everything is going well, and you and Ens. Fannin are ready to start a relationship. What are some things you see that might be problematic, considering your ranks and positions?”
“We work together almost every day. We would have to stay professional while on duty, like you and the captain are.”
“Yes. And…”
“And they are an ensign and I’m a commander. I would have to be mindful of consent.”
“Very important. What else?”
“And if something goes wrong, we would need to agree to not let it affect the way we work together moving forward.”
“All good points. You also need to beware of favoritism, whether intentional or unintentional.”
He sighed. “This all seems so complex. Maybe it will be better if I didn’t even try for something more.”
“Hank, you felt sure enough to think about this, and overcome a fair bit of discomfort to make time to talk to me about it. I think you might be willing to put in the effort it will take to ensure you do it the right way. Take it slow, and see if something can grow between the two of you.”
“Okay, Deanna. I will.”
==/*\==
“Psst! Alexander, what’s the answer to number seven?” There was a long pause, then another whisper. “Psst!”
“I’m ignoring you.”
“Is it 119.6?”
“I’m not telling you the answers, Carmen. Figure it out on your own.”
“Is it 119.6 or 107.6?”
“Stop asking. I already told you this morning I wouldn’t help you.”
“Aww, but that was for a test. This is just seatwork.”
“I’m still not helping you.”
“Miss Peebles!” the human teen said, raising her hand and making her straight blonde hair sway, “I don’t understand number seven. Can Alexander work with me to help me learn this concept?”
The schoolteacher looked up from the younger student’s padd that she was checking. “That sounds like a very useful idea, Carmen. I’m sure Alexander will be happy to help you understand.”
Alexander gritted his teeth and hoped that he would make it through class without breaking another stylus in two. He and Carmen Matthews were the oldest students on the Peregrine, so the teacher assigned them the same work. The female was fourteen, and a seventh-grade curriculum was appropriate for them both, although he was capable of performing at a much higher level in math and science, thanks to having spent some of the last year at school in San Francisco. Living and studying with his best friend, T’vek, had helped too.
Carmen had been like a thorn in his side since she and her parents came aboard this April. In his opinion, she didn’t like to think for herself, and was far too comfortable getting into his business. The fact that he was well-suited to explain these mathematical concepts to her was beside the point – he’d learned that if you gave Carmen a millimeter, she took a parsec.
Carmen moved her chair closer to his and put her padd on the table close to where he was working. “Is the answer 119.6?”
“No, it’s not.”
“Well, tell me what it is,” she whined, “or show me how to do it. Teacher said to.”
Alexander sighed. He looked at her padd for a minute. “You aren’t finding the derivative first. The problem is asking for the slope, not the y-value. You have to derive the equation first, then plug in the x-value.”
“You’re so smart, Alexander. Couldn’t you just show me how to do it?”
“No. Do it yourself. I will check your answer. What’s the derivative of 2x3 over 3?”
“6x over 3.”
“No.” He sighed again. “You did the multiplication part right but you need to go to x2, not just x. And you still need to simplify the fraction.”
It was her turn to sigh. “Why do we have to know this? I don’t want to know this. Calculus is a waste of time.”
He frowned at her. “Do you like going places?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you think it might be important to know how your ship is accelerating through space? Or how the warp plasma is moving through the conduits?”
“I guess…”
“You have to understand calculus to do those things. Our lives are dependent on people knowing how to do these equations.”
“No one’s life is ever going to depend on me knowing how to derive equations.”
He certainly hoped not. “Carmen, do you want me to help you or not?”
“Yes, please,” she said, and smiled sweetly at him.
Alexander sighed through his nose. “What’s the derivative of 4x2?” Better to get this over with as soon as possible.
==/*\==
That evening after dinner, Alexander was sitting at the table trying to finish his calculus homework. Ordinarily, he would have finished it at school, but Carmen had taken up so much of his time that he still had that, and his language arts work to do. Will was working at his desk, Worf was reading on the sofa, and Deanna was writing a letter to her mother.
Kestra was sitting in the middle of the room, watching Dimitry as he ran around her. He would get behind her, then rush up and surprise her, making her squeal. This, in turn, made him laugh out loud, and then try to do it again. As it went on, they got progressively louder.
It was getting to Alexander. He tried not listening, then breathing exercises; he tried humming to drown them out, but at last he whipped around in his chair and bellowed, “Would you two just shut up?!?”
Dimitry stopped running, and both he and Kestra looked at their big brother with wide eyes. Then Kestra started to cry and Dimitry did, too, and ran to bury his face in Deanna’s lap.
“Alexander!” Worf said forcefully, “do not yell at your siblings.”
“But they are making so much noise – I can’t concentrate on my homework.”
“I do agree with that, Alex,” Will said, “but you still aren’t allowed to do what you did just now.”
“I know…” He was too upset still to really back down all the way.
Deanna put her padd aside and stood up. “I think it would be good to let them play somewhere else before bedtime.” She bent to pick Kestra up from the floor.
“Are you sure you feel up to it?” Will asked. If she was heading to the arboretum, that would be an unusual amount of walking for this time of night.
“I’m feeling fine. Come on, Dimmy.” She sent Worf a meaningful look before she left.
“Finish your work,” he said to his son. Alexander bent over his homework, sure that he was going to get a lecture when he was done. Will looked at Worf, and Worf nodded his head once.
When the adolescent was finished, his father told him, “Get ready for bed, and then we need to talk.”
When he’d gone into his room after his shower, Worf knocked on his door. “Come in,” Alexander said, sounding resigned.
Worf entered, dragging a chair from the table with him. He sat down and looked at his son, sitting on the edge of his bed. He didn’t speak for a while, and just looked at him. Like Will had noticed that morning, he was nearly full-grown, and looked like an adult, except in the eyes – his eyes were still those of someone who hadn’t seen everything yet. “Alexander, we need to talk.”
“I’m sorry I yelled at Dimmy and Kes. It was wrong.”
“Yes, and I’m glad you realize that, and I hope you’ll deal with it differently next time, but that’s not what we need to talk about.”
“Then what do you want to talk about?”
Worf tried to tamp down any feelings of discomfort, because they would only make this worse for both of them. “We need to talk about jak’tahla.”
“Ugh, Father, no.” He twisted and dove into his pillow. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, his voice muffled.
“Alexander,” Worf said, and waited for him to sit back up. “I don’t think we can avoid talking about this.”
“I was just upset that the little kids were too loud – that doesn’t mean I’m changing.”
“Not by itself it doesn’t, but that’s not the only sign you’re showing.”
“What else? I don’t think…”
“Your sleep schedule is off, and I don’t think you’ve grown more than a centimeter or two in the last four months. Add in the irritability and I think we can be pretty sure it’s starting.”
“Father, I’m part human. Maybe I’ll have more time.”
“Perhaps, but it doesn’t seem so.”
Alexander dragged his hands down his face and groaned. “I’m only eight years old. I don’t want to look like an adult yet.”
“You’re almost nine.” Alexander gave him a tired look. “And you won’t look all the way adult for a few years, yet. But you’re going to go through some mood swings that you’ll need to watch out for.”
“Do we have to talk about this?”
“This is serious, Alexander. I haven’t told you this, but…I accidently killed another boy when I was in jak’tahla.”
“You did? Why?”
“It was more of a how than a why – I had no intention to do it, but we were playing soccer, and I didn’t think about anything but winning…and our heads collided when we both went up for a header. I broke his neck. I didn’t even feel it.”
“That’s why you were worried about me playing soccer in San Francisco.”
“Yes. I’m thankful that nothing like that happened, but I want to warn you, now, that bad things can come about when all of the changes make it hard to focus. For the next few years, you’ll find it easier to get angry, and harder to calm down. You’ll have to be extra careful.”
Alexander grunted, thinking.
“Regular meditation will help. You won’t get much taller, but you will go through other changes. Your hair will grow faster, and may change texture or color. You may get skin problems, and…you’ll start noticing girls.”
Alexander covered his eyes with his hand and sighed.
“It’s better to know, to be prepared, even if you don’t want to hear this. Believe me, your grandfather was not very helpful when it was me sitting where you are. After…the incident…I was sent to my cousins on Qo’noS. I learned most of this there. A little too late, I think.”
Worf stood up and took hold of the back of the chair with one hand. He extended the other hand towards Alexander; in it, he held a paperback book. “Here.”
Alexander took the book. It looked brand-new; it must have been newly replicated. The cover said:
Jak’tahlavaD potlhmey Sovlu’: loDHompu’[1]
“If you have any questions that the book cannot answer, ask. Good talk.” Worf left quickly, glad that it was over.
==/*\==
Deanna was sitting on a bench built into a curve of the corridor, holding a sleeping child in each arm. She was just about to try to make it a little more of the way to her quarters when Cdr. Sutton came into view. “Do you need any help, Couns…Deanna?”
“Yes, I could use a little. These kids are heavy to carry at the same time.”
“Here, let me take Dimitry.” He picked up the toddler and settled him easily against his shoulder; the boy barely stirred. Then he extended an arm to help Deanna stand, and allowed her to continue to use his arm for support on the way to Nine-Forward.
“You’re very good with children,” she observed.
“I like kids. My sister has two.”
“I bet you’re a fun uncle.”
“I try to be, when I get to see them. I test out my new games on them.” They arrived at the door to the captain’s quarters.
Deanna opened the door. “Thank you, Hank, for your help.” She took Dimitry back and stepped in.
Will looked up from his desk next to the door, then got up quickly to take his son out of her arms. “You were right,” she said, “about it being a little too much walking. Luckily, Hank was passing by.” She shifted Kestra on her shoulder. “Where’s Worf?”
“He’s still talking to Alex.”
“The talk, huh?”
“Yep.”
They went into the little kids’ room. The space was divided by a folding screen to make it into two small rooms. Will took Dimitry behind the screen to his room, the one closest to the viewport, and started to change him for bed. Deanna did the same to Kestra, then sat in a chair to nurse her before bed. When Will was finished with Dimitry, he came out and sat next to her on the armrest of the chair.
‘How are you feeling?’
‘My legs ache. I’m hoping I can get Worf to give me a massage.’
‘I bet he will.’
‘How long have he and Alexander been talking?’
‘About ten minutes now.’
‘Do you remember hearing the puberty talk from your dad?’
‘Are you kidding? That was not his style. I had to learn from books.’
‘And practical experience, I imagine.’
‘That teaches you less than you think. What about you?’
‘Kids on Betazed learn very early, as soon as they develop their telepathy or empathy. It’s to keep them from being confused by things they hear.’
‘How young?’
‘Four or five. The only thing that you learn when you’re older is about fertility cycles and stuff like that.’
‘That is something I didn’t learn for a while. I must have said something stupid to a girl I knew in the Academy, because she sat me down and explained the whole thing to me. I felt like a complete idiot.’
‘Do you think Worf is talking to Alexander about that?’
‘I bet not. He won’t need to know that until…when? I don’t even know.’
‘I don’t either. I realize that I know next to nothing about Klingon sexual biology.’ Will raised a sarcastic eyebrow at her. ‘Other than the obvious, that is. But I think I should know.’ She looked down at Kestra, contentedly nursing with her eyes closed. Deanna switched her to the other side. ‘Since someday I’ll have to have the talk with Kestra.’
‘I’ve got some things I have to do before bed. Will you need any help making it into the bedroom?’
‘No. I’ll see you in a few minutes.’ Will bent down to kiss her and left. Deanna stroked her fingers over Kestra’s soft cheek.
[1] Important Things to Know for Jak’tahla: Boys