Chapter Thirteen
After Deanna left, Worf went into his bedroom and grabbed his last bottle of Romulan Ale. It was a souvenir he had picked up last time he had been on Rhisa. He didn't normally drink, but he felt a need to numb himself. A part of him said his need to get drunk was childish. He told that part to shut up, and picked up the flask and peered at the electric blue liquid. It was only half full. He shook the bottle, mesmerized. There was enough to get him absolutely whammed, if he felt like it. Anyway, he was on leave. He could do anything he damn well wanted. He replicated himself a tumbler, and sloshed the ale in. The glass was about a quarter full. He shot it back, and poured himself another. He felt the alcohol burn down the back of his throat, and spread down through his body. He felt a little better. Worf knew it was idiotic to get drunk on purpose, he also knew it was totally out of character for him, but he didn't care. He was on leave. He could afford to have a hangover tomorrow. He would even admit to deserving it.
Worf walked over and sat down on the couch. "Computer, dim the lights by one hundred percent." The machine complied instantly. "Can you play me the klingon opera Xe'Hegh'l'ahr?" The strains of the opera filled the dark room. He another shot drink.
Romulan ale was extremely potent, he thought. Worf devoted a moment to ponder his chosen poison, as he stared broodingly at the decanter. It was roughly eighty percent alcohol. Worf grinned. He remembered the first time he ever had the drink. He'd been in the academy, in his third year. The night after all his exams had been finished, he and some friends celebrated another year gone.
Worf still didn't understand just how the commanding officer of the academy had found that it had been Worf's group of friends who dyed the grass on the campus blue. Worf smirked in remembrance. It had been a wild night, and he had paid for it. He'd never been so sick in his life, and of course, he had been much to proud to go to the Infirmary to get the hypospray to make the effects go away. Following that debacle, he had always been careful when it came to overindulgence.
He slammed back another glass and muttered to himself. "That's your problem, Worf, You're too proud, and there is nothing that is ever going to change that." The opera played on. He nursed another glass, and sat alone in the darkness. All he had was his pride. His pride had helped him through many scrapes. If you believe you can bring down anyone, it usually intimidated those who believed they could take you down. It was all a question of attitude. It seemed everything came down to attitude.
If only he could get MaH'delyna out of his mind. It disturbed him to see her loose her control the way she had, but he knew it was his fault. He shouldn't have been so stupid as to have pressed his romantic attentions on her. She'd just been raped two weeks ago! And as if she would want to get involved with a man of the species who attacked her! As well, she probably was in mourning! She lost her mate on SoS, She lost her child on SoS! He felt like an animal, unable to control himself. He didn't want to see her scared like that ever again. The feeling of being responsible for a person loosing control of their mind was more than he could bear.
He wondered if the men who used her on the planet felt any guilt. Probably not. They probably didn't even remember or care. Events similar to the carnage on SoS happened often during the Klingon civil war. Pillage always seemed to be a common tactic in Klingon warfare, destroy your enemy by destroying his psyche. Mental warfare. It struck Worf suddenly; was that why MaH'delyna had been left alive? So she could go on living in that charnel setting? To live long enough to die completely insane? In the state MaH'delyna was in, she might have lived several days, maybe even a week. If there was any food to be found, she might have lived indefinitely. But one thing Worf was sure of, not even the strongest of warriors could keep his sanity in that situation. Perhaps it was never MaH'delyna's attackers intention for her to die. If they could keep her alive, and insane... He shrugged, that didn't make sense. If they had wanted her alive, they would have left a guard of some type. Worf realized he was just being a fool. He had yet another drink, and watched the stars go by.
He was going to die. Oh yes, he was going to die. He felt like someone had taken a phaser drill to the back of his head. He cracked open half an eye, and shut it very quickly. It was too bright out. All the lights in his quarters were on. He groaned. He was fairly sure that he was going to loose his dinner.
He sat up and swore. What dinner? He felt his stomach roll over and he swallowed to keep from throwing up. "Oh Kah'less! DINNER!" He smacked his palm into his forehead and groaned. In his effort to get himself numb he forgot about the fact he had a growing son. "Alexander?" He croaked hoarsely. A sudden flash hit him. Had he been singing earlier? He groaned yet again.
"Good morning Father!" An extremely chipper voice piped up. Each word was a detonation in his skull!
He groaned. "Hello, Alexander. What time is it?" His eyes felt caked and gritty. He slowly opened them and realized he was on the couch. The couch?
"It's eight thirty. Shouldn't you be on the bridge? Or at least getting ready to go to the bridge." Alexander said.
"I am on leave." His mouth tasted like someone had died in it. He moaned like a dieing elephant and raised himself up to look around. Alexander was over at the replicator getting breakfast.
"You told me you wouldn't be on leave for another month."
"Counselor Troi seems to think I am under to much pressure. I'm off for the next week." He rasped, his throat sore. The smell of sausages assailed his nostrils, and his stomach lurched again. He clenched his teeth and swallowed. "Alexander, what was I doing when you came home from school?" He cringed at the thought of the coming answer. With a sudden jolt he recollected that his drinking binge had started around ten yesterday morning.
"You were asleep on the couch. I figured you must have worked all the night before so I didn't wake you. I did turn off the opera, though. I don't know how you can listen to that!" Alexander grimaced and sat down at the table.
Worf got to his feet and lumbered over to the replicator. "Water." He ordered.
"What temperature?" The computer asked.
"What do I care, just make it lukewarm." He grumbled.
"Define lukewarm."
"Twenty degrees, you damn machine!" A tall glass materialized instantly.
"Why do I have the feeling you aren't in a good mood?" Alexander asked warily.
He sat opposite his son, and tried not to look at Alexander's breakfast. He ignored his son's statement. "I am sorry I wasn't awake for you last night. I was incredibly irresponsible. I apologize."
"Don't worry about it." Alexander artfully shoveled his meal around his plate.
Worf's head pounded. He took a sip of his water, crossed his arms on the table, and put his head down. "Son, don't ever drink Romulan Ale."
Alexander shrugged. "Yes, Father. Whatever. What are you doing today?"
"I want to die, very slowly. And when I'm dead, I have to go see Troi, who will proceed to make me feel even worse." He raised his head. "My other piece of advice to you is to never involve yourself with women. Go become a vulcan monk. It's the only way you'll be safe."
"Safe from what?" The little klingon looked at him.
"From the endless, continual nagging. It never stops." He took another sip of his water. His stomach wanted to reject it, but he managed to keep it down. "Computer, what time is my appointment with counselor Troi?"
" O-Eight Forty-five."
"What time is it now?"
"O-eight forty."
"NO!" Worf shrieked. He bounded up, causing his stomach to flip over and his vision to swim alarmingly. He managed to get to the washroom. Stripping quickly, the suffering klingon hopped into the shower. The steaming hot water helped him feel a little better, and he was out in an all time record. "Damn that woman for making such an early appointment!" He grumbled as he dried himself.
Worf looked in the mirror. He didn't look good. He was pale, wan, and his skin almost looked like wax. Also, there was a slight greenish cast to his color. He went into his bedroom and replicated a uniform. He WOULD wear his uniform.
His hair still wet, he grunted 'Bye' to Alexander, and left his quarters. He hated being soggy, and as he traveled to the turbolift, he couldn't help but wonder why the Enterprise had such bright lights in the corridors. It made things very uncomfortable for the hungover who might be transversing them.
He arrived at Troi's about four minutes late. As he touched the chime Worf mumbled "I hate being late."
The door slide open and Deanna Troi beckoned him in. She was wearing one of her turquoise dresses. "Come, and have a seat. You're late." She said pleasantly.
He sat in a green chair, his elbows on his knees. It was awfully bright in here, and he looked at the floor in a effort to shade his eyes. "I know. I apologize."
Deanna sat opposite him. "That is very unusual for you, Worf."
"I did not know the time of our appointment until this morning."
"Ah. How odd. I sent a reminder to your terminal yesterday afternoon." She smiled.
"I have not had the opportunity to turn it on for a few days. 'I've been remiss in my duties." He answered curtly. Did she have to rub it in? And did she have to talk so loud? He winced slightly.
"Why, Worf, are you unwell? You look a little pale." She gazed at him.
He couldn't detect any sarcasm in her tone. "I am fine, counselor. Thank you for your concern."
"But I do sense you are very uncomfortable. You've been in my office enough not to be intimidated by it. What's bothering you, Worf." She asked, concerned.
"Let me think? Could it be that you took me off active duty. If this were a Klingon ship, my dishonor would be great." He replied acidly.
"This isn't a Klingon ship, and you need the rest. What did you do last night?"
"I went to sleep."
Troi's eyes narrowed. "That is absolutely amazing, as you don't look like you slept at all. You look decidedly hung over."
Worf scowled fiercely. "I am on leave. I can do anything I damn well please. Remember?" He snarled mockingly.
"I didn't take you off duty so you could go and get drunk on Warnog."
"It was Romulan ale." He muttered.
Her face went slightly sympathetic. "You must feel sick. Two tumblers puts me on the floor. How much did you have."
He shrugged. "Yesterday my decanter was half full. Now it's empty."
Deanna looked sick. "Your poor liver."
He nodded. "I am paying for it."
"I have never seen you like this before. I didn't even think that you drank the real stuff.
"I try to avoid it. I don't like feeling like this, and when you are drunk, you can't hear someone creep up behind you with a phaser. But you didn't ask my here to discuss the effects of Romulan alcohol on the body. I am pretty positive that my drinking habits, or lack of them aren't the reason you suspended me. Why did you do it, Deanna?" He questioned.
She crossed her legs, leaned back and crossed her arms around his chest. "Because you are in no condition to perform your job effectively."
"That's absolute garbage. The way you say condition it sounds as if I'm pregnant!" He scoffed.
"When was the last time you slept?"
"Last night."
Troi sighed. "You know that doesn't count. Don't treat me a five year old, Worf."
"Three, four days ago."
"That isn't enough. When was the last time you ate properly?" She asked.
A vision of Alexander's sausages rolled into his mind and his stomach roiled. "The day before yesterday. I don't really see what you are getting at."
"I told you two weeks ago on SoS not to get too emotionally involved in this. I had a little chat with your son the other day. He said all you do is go over medical logs, go through away team logs, and talk to the home world. In short, all you do with your time is work on the SoS investigation." Deanna leaned forward.
"That is my job, Counselor. I am the head of security. I investigate things." He bit out each word.
"Correction, Mr. Worf. You are in charge of onboard security, not planetary security." She rebuked crisply.
He looked around the aqua room. "And you think that just because you take me off of active duty you are going to stop my investigation?"
She snorted. "I would have to put you in an straight jacket to keep you from your investigation. I know how important it is to you."
"At least you realize that much."
"What is MaH'delyna to you, Worf?" Deanna asked suddenly.
It was a question he had no ability to answer. "How the hell do I know? One minute I want to keep her safe, and the next minute I think I'm going to strangle her. She is the most perplexing person I have ever had the misfortune to meet."
"I understand. What happened in her quarters the other night? Whatever it was has you extremely upset and I think it is the root of your present problem." The counselor got up and walked over to the replicator. "Do you want anything?"
He shook his head. "No, thank you. So you want to know what happened. I don't know. It happened all so suddenly."
"Hot chocolate." Deanna said to the replicator. She picked up the glass and walked back and sat opposite Worf. "Start at the beginning."
"She invited me over for dinner. I went, we ate. After we ate, we sat on the couch and we were just talking and- " He rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. His head pounded unmercifully. "Oh, I don't know."
"What did you do?" She prompted.
"I growled at her." He sighed into his hands.
"Well, so you got angry. What else happened?"
"No, I wasn't angry. I, "He placed special emphasis on the word. "growled at her. You know," He waved his hand in the air.
"Oh. So?"
"She didn't take it all that well. She went into her memories and thought I was one of her attackers. She begged me not to rape her anymore." His normally powerful voice dwindled into a whisper.
Deanna leaned over and placed her hand on his. Her eyes softened with concern. "Oh Worf, I am sorry. You can't feel guilty about that. Sometimes, certain sounds, or smells or sights can jog one's memory, as I told you the other day. In MaH'delyna's case, it got jogged pretty hard. You can't blame yourself for that."
"I shouldn't have been having those sort of thoughts about a woman who is newly widowed!" He exploded.
"Physical attraction isn't something we have a whole lot of control of." Troi said, looking him into the eye.
"Yes, but we can control our actions!"
"What did you do afterwards?"
Worf looked up. "I waited until she was fine and I left. What do you think I did?"
"Well, then you did the right thing. Maybe leaving was a little abrupt; however, you can't go wrong with it. But I will repeat myself. You can't feel guilty for what happened. It wasn't your fault." She said.
"I feel like it was."
"But it wasn't"
He fixed his beady eyes on her. "Let's not get into that. Will you please put me back on duty?"
She smiled benignly. "Nope. You are on stress leave. I haven't changed my reasons for that. You are incredibly over-tired, and I don't think that you should be working. Worf, It is only a week. Enjoy yourself. Spend some time in the holodeck. Spend some time with your son. He could use a moment of your time."
"A week. I don't like it! I don't like it at all. They need me on the bridge."
"No they don't. Not the way you are. You're running yourself into the ground."
"That is not true!"
"Worf! Listen to yourself, then think about this for a minute. I want you to get this investigation out of your system. You have six days in which you have an unlimited amount of time to work on it. Use the time, and stop complaining." She articulated exasperatedly.
He felt like an idiot for not having seen it earlier. "I-"
"Uh-huh! I see you understand. But Worf, I want you to look after yourself. You can't abuse this. I don't want you to burn yourself out. You can only do so much." Troi told him.
"Counselor, I have to find the answers. There is so much, and I sense a major conspiracy here. If what MaH'delyna says is true, and Ke'thex is an impostor, it will cause a major imbalance within the empire. Ke'thex's house is very small, but they are the custodians of all Dylithium crystal mines in the Empire." He explained urgently.
"What does that mean?"
"It means that Ke'thex, A) controls all of the battle fleet's power and B) he is incredibly wealthy, and wealth carries a weight equal to that of a Romulan warbird. If he is an impostor, he is in a position to jeopardize the security of the empire in ways that I can't begin to understand. Ke'thex has a position on the high council, he has power, he has money, he has the energy source of the fleet. If he was an enemy of the state, and he chooses to use the power he has to aid an invasion, the Empire could topple."
"Then you had better get to work, but first, go get a hypo from Beverly, You can't do any work when you are hungover. And Worf, don't go and get drunk again!" She smiled and got up.
He rose as well and walked toward the door." Thank you Counselor."
"Yes well, Don't forget, It's poker night on friday, and I want to win back those credits you stole from me." She grinned ruefully. "It's that poker face of yours."
He walked out the door and said to her, "You don't have a chance!"