Paramount Global owns the Star Trek franchise. This is a piece of fan fiction based on Star Trek the Next Generation.
Meeting Alexander
Sher was walking through the corridors of the Enterprise. She really had no place in mind to go; happening upon a room full of children. They were playing games. Two children where playing chess, she remembered her first game of chess. Thor was teaching her the art of the game. She wasn’t much older than three. Daddy let his little girl win. She smiled to herself as she continued around the room. One little girl was painting. Sher was never good at art. Freya tried several times to teach her. She marveled watching Michelangelo’s wistful brush strokes. She even took lessons from Pasco but never learned the art. This little girl had a future ahead of her. Several children where playing on a jungle gym. She and her brothers spent hours playing hide and seek in a jungle. Childhood for her was so wonderful. It was the only part of her life that she would live over if she could.
“Hi.” A voice called to her.
“Hi, you must be Alexander.”
“Yes, I am.” He said in amazement. “How did you know?”
“I know your father.”
“You know father. How?”
She sat in the floor; Alexander followed her lead. “I have led your father into battle.”
“You have fought with father?”
“No,” she smiled. “I have led your father into battle. There are many types of battles. A battlefield does not have to be on the ground.”
“What kind of battles?” Alexander asked with enthusiasm.
“Any kind of battle you can imagine. From personal battles to professional battles.”
“Is my father a brave warrior?”
“What do you think?”
“Yes, he is, I feel that way because he is my father.”
“I feel that way because I know he is.”
“What makes a man weak?” Alexander asked.
“What do you think makes a man weak?”
“Fear, stupidity, cowardness, love.”
“How do you justify those?”
Alexander straightened himself up, “fear is a weakness just by its very state. There is a boy in my math class that is afraid of his own shadow. He sleeps with a nightlight.”
“Fear in small amounts is a good trait. Every warrior is afraid of something. Fear heightens your senses, makes your heart beat a little faster, makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. The man who knows no fear is a true coward.”
“How can you say that?”
“What are you afraid of?”
“Nothing.” He answered with pride.
“I remember a time that Worf had surgery because his spine was crushed. Wasn’t you afraid then?”
“Yes,” he said sheepishly.
“Because you were afraid he would never walk again, did that make you a coward?”
“No.”
“That’s right. It didn’t. Which brings us to love. If you didn’t love your father, would you be afraid for his safety?”
“I guess not.”
“I do agree with the stupidity factor. Ignorance can be overcome with education. There is no cure for stupidity.”
He smiled, “what about cowardliness?”
“Cowardliness can be overcome. There are so many things that can make us a coward. It is our ability to overcome that makes us warriors. Fear feeds a coward. A coward lets fear control his life. Corrupt his senses. A coward never wants to get out of the house to face life. A warrior allows his young son to live with him on the Enterprise even though he has no idea how to be a father.”
“You are right. I guess I need to give father a fighting chance don’t I?”
“Yes you do. I miss my family. There are times when you want nothing more than to sit on your father’s lap and have him tell you everything is going to be alright.”
“What is your name?”
“You may call me Sher.”
“Hello father.” Alexander was looking over Sher’s right shoulder.
“Son.” Worf extended his hand to Sher. She accepted. “Your highness.”
“Thank you kind sir.”
“Your highness. Isn’t that title reserved for royalty?”
“Alexander, there is no need to be rude.”
“It is okay.” She smiled. “I don’t mind. Yes, Young Alexander, that title is reserved for royalty.”
“What are you?”
“I am a princess.”
“That means your father is a king.”
“Yes it does.”
“Wow! I’ve never met a princess. What kind of princess?”
“Have you ever read the story of Der and Ferta?”
“No, mother never would let me read it. She said it was too violent.”
“When you read the story, ask Worf who I am? I will not tell you now. It will spoil the story.”
“Father, may I read it.”
“Perhaps you both should.” Sher suggested.
“I have read it. But I was a boy, younger
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