Death in Winter - Michael Jan Friedman [39]
“Are part of what makes us strong,” said Sela, apparently unperturbed. “Like two muscles pulling in opposite directions-the exercise improves both of them.”
“If you’re so strong, why don’t you let me help the Kevrata? Surely they can’t- “
Sela interrupted her, her gaze suddenly hard and unyielding. “We both know what they can do, Doctor. They can start a chain reaction that will destabilize the entire outer rim and jeopardize our hold on it-which is why it’s so important for me to keep you from carrying out your mission.”
Beverly’s teeth ground together. Politics. “How many Kevrata, do you think, will die because Romulus is worried about losing its subject worlds? Fifty thousand? A hundred?”
“If I were you,” said Sela, “I would be more concerned about my own future.” Her eyes took on a softer, more reasonable cast. “As you can imagine, most Romulans in my position would simply have killed you and left you to rot in the snow. I opted to bring you here instead, to treat the injury you sustained-and to give you a chance to avoid death.”
Beverly looked at her askance. “How?”
The Romulan leaned forward until her face was almost touching the barrier. “If you were to tell me which vessel brought you to Kevratas, it would improve your situation considerably.”
Beverly met Sela’s gaze. “In other words, you want me to betray the people who risked their lives to get me here.”
“The people who broke Romulan law, and imperiled the security of the Empire? Yes, those people.”
The doctor controlled the anger she felt rising inside her. “Go to hell.”
Sela straightened, as if she had been slapped across the face. Then she found it within herself to chuckle. “Romulans,” she said, “have no hell.”
Then she left Beverly standing in her cell and went back the way she had come, heels clacking on the stones. It seemed to take a long time for the echoes to fade-and even then, the doctor seemed to hear them reverberating in her mind.
Geordi swiveled away from his computer monitor and considered what he had just learned. Then he touched his combadge and said, “La Forge to Commander Worf.”
“Worf here.”
“Can I see you for a second? I’m in my quarters.”
“On my way. Worf out.”
Geordi closed his eyes and massaged them. His optical prosthetics had reduced the concept of vision to a computer-driven series of mechanized procedures, but there were still muscles involved, and his got as tired as anyone else’s.
Moments later, he heard the chime that told him Worf had arrived. “Come on in,” he said.
The doors slid aside, revealing the Klingon’s imposing presence. “What is it?” Worf asked, an unmistakable note of eagerness in his voice.
“I’ve got something,” said Geordi. But he waited for the doors to whisper closed before he went on. “I don’t know where the captain went yet, but his mode of transportation was a Barolian trader called the Annabel Lee.”
Worf shook his head. “It does not sound familiar.”
“To me either,” Geordi told him. “So I looked it up. It’s registered in the name of Peter Joseph.”
The Klingon’s eyes lit up. “Pug Joseph!”
“That’s right,” said Geordi.
Pug Joseph had been Picard’s security chief when he commanded the Stargazer. Geordi had met the guy only once, a few years after the launch of the EnterpriseD, when Joseph was working through some personal problems.
“What does Pug Joseph have to do with Beverly’s disappearance?” Worf asked.
Geordi shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe nothing.”
Worf’s eyes narrowed. “Nothing…?”
“Maybe the captain needed Pug’s ship. It’s a trader. That means it can go places a starship can’t.”
“True,” the Klingon allowed.
“I received another piece of information,” said Geordi, “but I’m not sure how trustworthy it is. You remember Carter Greyhorse?”
Worf nodded. “The doctor on the Stargazer.”
“If my source is correct, Greyhorse was released recently from a penal facility in New Zealand-into the custody of Captain Picard.”
“Interesting,” said Worf. “But why would- ?” He stopped himself. “Greyhorse worked with Doctor Crusher at Starfleet Medical.”
“That’s