A Call to Darkness - Michael Jan Friedman [98]
There was something in her voice, in her choice of words, that caught him off balance. He was not certain what he had expected of her, but it was not entreaty.
“Why should I?” he asked.
“Because,” she said, “I know who you are-who you really are. I know where you come from and why you’re here. And the reason I know these things is because I come from the same place.”
He inspected her individual features for a sign of insincerity-gazed deep into her eyes. “You look nothing like me,” he spat.
“That’s true,” she conceded. “I don’t. But that doesn’t change anything. We come from a ship called the Enterprise. Does that sound familiar?”
He rolled it over his tongue. “Enterprise.” It came more easily to him than he would have thought. On the other hand, it brought forth no images-no recollections.
“That’s right-Enterprise. And we were transported here against our will-you and I and a handful of others. We were placed on these battlefields-but not before they took our memories away from us.”
Worf grunted his skepticism-indicated her companions with a toss of his head. “If you were like me,” he told her, “you would not be in the company of marshals.”
She shook her head. “They’re not marshals. Take a good look at them. They are of the same race as the marshals-but they are opposed to them.”
He thought about that, sifted through it-uncertain of how much truth there could be in it. And yet, he was reluctant to reject it all out of hand.
“Give me a reason to believe you,” the Klingon demanded.
“Why should I lie?” she asked. “Make no mistake-I do want something from you. I want help. But we can do without it. My friends here would probably prefer to abandon you-leave you to fend for yourself. Damnation-they’ve been carrying you half the day, and you’re no lightweight.”
Worf glanced again at the marshals, then at his surroundings. It was true that they had moved him from the last place he remembered. And there were neither sleds nor other conveyances in sight.
If they were trying to trick him, they had gone to great lengths. And as the female had said-what reason could they have to deceive him? Why not just kill him, or torture him, or bring him back to serve again as a warrior?
Worf eyed the female. “How is it that you have regained your memory-while mine is still a blank?”
“By accident. Purely by accident. Remember that flyingeye machine I swatted? And how it blew up in my face? Somehow the flash destroyed whatever block was placed in my brain-though at first, I remembered even less than before.” She paused. “I would do the same for you, if I had a means of making the same kind of flash-and if I felt sure I wouldn’t be damaging your eyes at the same time.”
He thought back to the fortress, and how the sudden light from the sky had driven those warriors mad. Was that what had happened to them? If they had been allowed to live, would their memories have been restored?
And was that why they were murdered by the marshals-to prevent the existence of a band of warriors who could remember? And, remembering, who could stir up the others into some sort of rebellion?
That cinched it for the Klingon. Possibly, the female was not telling him the whole truth. But too many pieces fit together for her to be lying through her teeth.
“What kind of help do you want from me?” he asked. “What can I do that you cannot do yourselves?”
“We’re going to try to free some of our people,” explained the female. “Some of those who were taken from the Enterprise along with us. It means getting into a fortress that’s crawling with marshals-and we thought that your experience as a warrior might come in handy.”
He scowled. That piece fit into place as well. Too neatly? he wondered.
On the other hand, what did he have to lose? He could hardly help but improve his situation.
“All right,” he said.
Her brow wrinkled for a moment, and she shook her head. “No. You still have your doubts-don’t you?” She sighed. “What proof can I give you that I’m telling the truth? What can I say that will convince you?”
And then