And sooner or later someone would get hurt—or worse.
CHAPTER 5
Out of my way, lumphead!” Shoving Alexander aside, Bernard Umbaya laughed and kept walking down the crowded school hallway.
As Alexander stumbled backward against his locker, his PADD slipped out of his hand. When he leaned over to pick up the compact computer, a foot stomped down on it.
A Tellarite exchange student walking by snorted with jeering disgust. Two girls heading in the opposite direction giggled.
“Get off it!” Alexander snapped, then looked up into Jeremy Sullivan’s scowling face.
Somehow, he had managed to avoid a direct confrontation with Jeremy and his friends during the previous two days. Using the Mok’bara mental skills his father had taught him, he had also managed to appear unaffected and in control when the other kids had shunned or insulted him. A lot of them had given up trying to provoke him. His faked indifference took the fun out of it. Jeremy was not so easily put off.
“Your PADD doesn’t belong on the floor, Klingon!” Blue eyes gleaming with arrogance, Jeremy lifted his foot, then kicked the PADD away when Alexander reached for it. The personal access display device shot across the corridor and banged against the far wall.
Alexander froze, silently counting to ten as he tried to confine the rage. His pulse and breathing quickened as he locked gazes with the red-haired boy. He kept counting, desperately wishing Jeremy would just move on before the rage won. But Jeremy didn’t move and Kim Ho suddenly appeared beside him. Surrounded with his back against the wall, Alexander rose into a defensive posture, fists clenched at his sides.
“You don’t scare me, Alexander.” Jeremy leaned toward him, his voice low and intimidating. “Starfleet officers aren’t afraid of Klingon dogs like you.”
“We’re not Starfleet officers, yet,” Kim said with an uneasy glance at Alexander.
“But we will be.” Jeremy’s jaw flexed as his hateful gaze bore into Alexander.
Alexander stared back, his hard nails biting into the skin of his palms as he tightened his fists. One more word and Jeremy Sullivan would be heading toward the nurse’s office with a broken jaw.
“Come on.” Kim tugged on Jeremy’s sleeve. “We’re gonna be late.”
Jeremy’s cold gaze remained fastened on Alexander as Kim pulled him into the stream of students on their way to class. “Watch yourself, Klingon.”
Feeling the rage begin to slip past his defenses, Alexander whirled and slammed his fist into the locker. Hearing a startled cry, he snapped his head around and gasped.
Brown eyes wide with anxious uncertainty, Suzanne Milton stood beside him clutching his PADD. She shoved it toward him. “You dropped this.”
Swallowing hard, Alexander self-consciously took the PADD. Suzanne sat behind him in fundamental physics and he had become uncomfortably aware of her recently. She had long, flowing brown hair and freckles and he had often caught her watching him with guarded curiosity. Convinced that she would refuse any friendly overtures, he had not had the courage to start a conversation. Now that she was here, talking and being nice, he felt totally tongue-tied.
“Jeremy can be such a jerk.” Suzanne smiled shyly.
“Thanks.” Alexander smiled back and was appalled when the smile turned into a guttural snarl.
Drawing back with surprised indignation, Suzanne turned and walked away.
“I’m sorry….” Slumping against his locker, Alexander watched as she disappeared into a classroom. The bright, pretty girl was the only person in school who had been friendly toward him in weeks! He was sure she wouldn’t make that mistake again. He had snarled in her face! No wonder humans despised Klingons.
Keying in his lock code, Alexander opened his locker and took out a data bar. He had had library authorization coded into the pass earlier. Although he could access any information he needed for his paper on thermal dynamics with his PADD, he preferred working in the library to being in regular study hall. The rows of computers and long, tall stacks of old-fashioned bound books provided a seclusion that wasn’t possible in an open classroom.
As he trudged up the stairs to the second floor, Alexander was only vaguely aware of the sneers and whispered comments of the other students he passed. His anger at himself for growling at Suzanne was potentially more explosive than an anger directed at someone else. He imagined he was climbing a treacherous mountain, a mental exercise that kept his mind focused on his feet instead of on the disturbing incident with Suzanne.
“Hello, Alexander.” The librarian, Ms. Marconi, smiled tightly as he handed her the pass. “How are you today?”
“Fine,” Alexander mumbled. Before his Klingon temper had emerged to totally disrupt his life, he had liked the attractive librarian. Slim with shoulder-length blond hair and laughing green eyes, Ms. Marconi had always treated him with respect and kindness. But she wasn’t fooling him with her pleasant attitude now. Last week he had almost smashed a computer screen when it failed to respond to a simple voice command. He had roared and kicked the sturdy desk instead. No permanent damage had been done, but the outburst had brought him dangerously close to being banned from the library for the rest of the semester. Ms. Marconi wasn’t worried about him. She was worried about the safety of the library, its contents and the students in her charge.
“So. What’s on your agenda this time?” Ms. Marconi ran the pass through a scanner to check the authorization, then gave it back.
“Physics.” Jamming the data bar into his pocket, Alexander nodded toward the towering shelves of bound books. “I want to look up a few things in the original texts.”
“Oh.” Ms. Marconi smiled, looking both relieved that he wouldn’t be using the computers and nervous because he would be using the precious leather-bound books with paper pages. “Let me know if you have trouble finding anything.”
“Okay.” Alexander hurried away from the front desk and quickly found a table in a far corner. No one else was in sight. Grabbing a physics reference book off the shelf just in case Ms. Marconi came by to check on him, Alexander eased into the corner chair.
Concealed by high shelves lined with books of different sizes and colors, he settled down to work, hoping the hour would pass without interruption. He had only two classes after this. With luck, he’d get through another day without starting a fight or breaking something. There were only two more days to go until the Batlh Jaj, the Day of Honor, and his vow to his father remained unbroken.
Alexander was surprised at how much that meant to him. Thinking about it in the quiet solitude of the library, he realized that the significance of the Batlh Jaj went far beyond a holiday that celebrated the Klingons’ unwavering dedication to honor. It was the oath itself. The belief that a person was only as trustworthy and strong as his given word was the one Klingon tradition he agreed with without reservation. It was the first lesson Worf had taught him on the Enterprise. More importantly, swearing to abide by it had been the first solid thread binding them together as father and son.
Honor bound.
He would rather suffer a horrible punishment than disgrace himself and his father by breaking his promise.
“I’m not kidding,” a boy’s voice insisted. “It’s a first edition of Zefram Cochrane’s The Potential of Warp Propulsion and it has a type error in it.”
“They called that a typo.” Kim corrected Bernard as they walked around the end of the long bookcase forming an aisle that ran along the back wall.
Sitting at the far end of the row, Alexander held his breath as Jeremy followed, looking bored.
“So what?” Jeremy asked.
“So he corrected and initialed it.” Bernard scanned the upper shelves, looking for the volume.
“No, he didn’t,” Jeremy scoffed. “Some joker with a replicated pen initialed it so fools like you would think Zefram Cochrane did.”
Kim noticed Alexander and tapped Jeremy on the shoulder.
Alexander stiffened, sensing that his oath wa
s about to be tested. He reinforced the heavy, metal door imprisoning the imaginary lion in his mind with a huge padlock and several duranium bars. As long as the symbolic beast didn’t get out, his very real rage wouldn’t escape, either.
“Well, well. Look who’s here.” Jeremy sauntered down the aisle with Bernard and Kim close behind. They stationed themselves around the table, blocking Alexander’s only way out. “What’s a Klingon doing in a library?”
“My homework,” Alexander said evenly.
“On what?” Bernard grinned and nudged Kim. “The only thing Klingons are any good at is hunting and killing.”
“Like the savages you are,” Kim added. He wasn’t smiling. “My uncle was killed in a Klingon raid near the Cardassian border.”
“I’m sorry.” Tense with the effort of caging his temper, Alexander knew he didn’t sound as sincere as he felt. “But I didn’t have anything to do with that.”
“You’re a Klingon, aren’t you?” Eyes narrowed, Kim lunged toward the table with his fist raised. Jeremy, the undisputed leader of the trio, put a staying hand on Kim’s chest. Bristling, Kim stepped back.
“I’m surprised Ms. Marconi let you back in after the fit you threw last week.” Thumbing through the physics reference book on the table by Alexander’s PADD, Jeremy frowned. “This is a Starfleet reference!”
Alexander didn’t respond. The rage was gaining strength. The imaginary lion repeatedly threw itself at the metal door in his mind. The door boomed and bowed, snapping one of the duranium bars and cracking another. Closing his eyes, he mentally replaced the broken bar with a newer, stronger one. It broke almost instantly when Jeremy grabbed the front of his shirt.
“Are you spying for the Empire?”
“I am a Federation citizen.” Alexander’s lip curled in a snarl, revealing sharp canine teeth. His gaze was like a steel rod boring into Jeremy’s eyes. “My father is a Starfleet officer.”
“Right. And my father’s an Orion pirate!” Jeremy talked tough and released his hold with a flourish, but Alexander didn’t miss the flash of uncertainty on his face.
Lowering his gaze to stare at the edge of the table, Alexander hoped Jeremy would take it as a sign of defeat and leave. What he really needed was to focus on something nonthreatening while he willed the fury into submission. Every muscle strained in the struggle to subdue an enemy far more dangerous than Jeremy Sullivan.
Falling for the ploy, Jeremy backed off.
Alexander continued to stare at the table, afraid to look up before the rage was completely gone.
“Ready?” Jeremy’s quiet voice pierced Alexander’s concentration. “One. Two…”
Too late Alexander realized that his tormentors had not left, but had only retreated to execute a more damaging plan. His gaze snapped up.
Standing behind the end section of the aisle bookcases, Jeremy, Bernard and Kim pushed the stack over on the count of three. The shelving unit wasn’t tall enough to reach and crush their Klingon target, but it would hit the table, trapping him behind it.
A combination of fear and fury broke through all of Alexander’s mental defenses. Shrieking, he vaulted over the table as the bookcase toppled and the three boys darted for cover. He was only a split-second short of jumping clear when the unit crashed, spilling books all over the floor. The top corner edge landed on his sleeve, pinning his shirt to the top of the table.
Snarling with frustration, Alexander yanked his arm and tore his shirt. The sound of ripping fabric calmed the rage, but that wouldn’t help him now.
Ms. Marconi and several curious students rushed up to the fallen bookcase to stare at the mess and him. Jeremy, Bernard and Kim had disappeared. The librarian looked like she was on the verge of tears in spite of her troubled frown, but Alexander didn’t harbor any illusions about why she was upset. Her grief was for the dumped and battered books, not for the Klingon boy who was so obviously guilty of the crime. She showed no mercy.
“The principal’s office, Alexander,” Ms. Marconi said in a flat voice. She pointed toward the door. “Now.”
CHAPTER 6
Alexander sat ramrod straight and as unmoving as stone, his eyes riveted on the bulletin board hanging on the wall across from him. He had not shifted position since arriving at the school office over an hour before. His grandmother had not been able to contact his father immediately after Mrs. Miyashi called, but Worf was on his way now. Alexander focused on the hard bench, welcoming the discomfort. It helped him imprison the fury aroused because he had been falsely and unjustly accused. It also distracted him from his anxiety over the impending and unavoidable conflict with his father.
The bell for the last period of the day rang.
Alexander watched the wall, bearing the disgusted sighs of the office personnel and the cloaked glances of students in stoical silence. There was nothing he could do to alter their distorted perceptions of him. No human understood the degree to which a Klingon valued his honor.
And in this, Alexander realized, he was truly Klingon.
He would not break his silence just as he had not broken his oath.
His only regret was that his father would not know the truth.
All eyes turned toward the door as Worf strode through it. Everyone but Alexander held their breath. Even dressed in a casual shirt, loose pants and boots with his long hair clipped at the base of his neck, his father was an imposing and impressive sight.
Resolved not to shame himself further in his father’s eyes, Alexander kept his expression blank when Worf paused before him. Neither one said a word as he stood up and they approached the counter.
“You must be Alexander’s father.” Mrs. Miyashi’s voice singsonged with a nervous lilt.
“Yes.”
The single word spoken in a deep, commanding bass set the office clerk fluttering to the end of the counter. “I’m sure Mr. Houseman will see you immediately.”
“That would be appreciated.”
“Yes, of course. Right this way.” Nodding vigorously, Mrs. Miyashi rushed to the principal’s office to announce their arrival.
If he hadn’t been in so much trouble, Alexander would have smiled. Aside from the fear all Klingons evoked because of their appearance and reputation, his father had a way of sounding intimidating even when that wasn’t his intention. Few outside himself had ever experienced the unique sensitivity his father hid so well.
But I don’t think I’m going to see that side of him today, Alexander thought as he followed Worf into Mr. Houseman’s office.
Tall, muscular and a commanding personality himself, Mr. Houseman motioned for Alexander and Worf to sit in the chairs in front of his desk. “Thank you for coming so promptly, Lieutenant Commander. I regret having to call you in, but Alexander’s unruly behavior seems to be getting worse.”
“So I have heard.”
Worf did not even glance in his direction and Alexander cringed inwardly, but like his father, his face revealed none of the emotions churning within. He was determined to conduct himself with dignity. Fixing his gaze directly ahead, he listened without fidgeting as the principal explained what had happened in the library.
“There was a similar, although less destructive incident last week,” Mr. Houseman finished. “We did give him a warning.”
Worf turned to address Alexander. “Is that true?”
“Yes,” Alexander said, still staring at the wall. His, father asked the question in a way that allowed him to answer honestly. “I kicked a desk and I was warned.”
Worf nodded, eyeing him thoughtfully. “I find it very difficult to believe you would deliberately destroy a bookcase after you gave me your word.”
Alexander didn’t respond. It wasn’t a question.
Hoping to head off a dispute, Mr. Houseman interjected. “No one else was in the vicinity, Mr. Worf.”
Worf’s brow furrowed for a long moment before he pressed Alexander. “Do you have anything to say?”
“No, sir.” Alexander could not de
fend or clear himself without snitching on Jeremy, Bernard and Kim. And that was something he simply couldn’t afford to do. They would launch a campaign of unbridled revenge and he did not trust his ability to cage the fury. It was growing too powerful and at a much faster rate than his progress with the Mok’bara.
The three arrogant and unsuspecting boys could not possibly survive an encounter with him.
He wouldn’t survive the oppressive guilt, especially if he ignored a way to avoid a fatal confrontation to save himself. His father had killed someone accidently. Yet, as strong and confident as Worf was, even he couldn’t exorcise the guilt that haunted him.
The bitter alternative was to let his father believe he had lost his temper in the library, toppled the bookcase and broken his promise.
Alexander swallowed a sigh. Suffering Worf’s disappointment would hurt, but no one would die from it. Besides, his father would be returning to Deep Space Nine in a few more days. He had to live with Jeremy Sullivan.
And himself.
Growing anxious in the prolonged silence, Mr. Houseman cleared his throat. “I am not unsympathetic to the fact that things have become rather difficult for Alexander, given the recent hostilities and a general lack of understanding between our two cultures.”
Giving no indication of his inner feelings, Worf turned back to the principal. “Unfortunately, that is quite true. However, Alexander’s loyalties do not lie with the Klingon Empire.”
“No, of course not.” Mr. Houseman shifted uncomfortably, weighing his options. “But I can’t let his actions go unpunished. A week of detention, beginning tomorrow. Since his last class has already started, you may as well take Alexander home now.”
“Is that acceptable to you, Alexander?”
For the first time since entering the office, Alexander looked at his father. It seemed like an odd question, but nothing in Worf’s eyes or expression gave him a clue as to why he had asked it. In the overall scope of things, that hardly seemed important. “Yes, sir.”
Star Trek: Deep Space Nine: Young Adult Books #11: Day of Honor 5: Honor Bound Page 4