Death in Winter - Michael Jan Friedman [64]
“Run!” bellowed Beverly’s companion, grabbing her arm to pull her after him.
Knowing she could be skewered at any moment, she turned from the guards and pelted after her benefactor. The Romulans’ disruptor bolts buried themselves in the storm on either side of her, but somehow none of them found their mark. And after a while, they stopped coming after her.
Sparing a glance over her shoulder, the doctor could barely make out the form of the building in which she had been imprisoned. It would be even harder to spot a couple of fugitives, even if they weren’t dressed all in white.
As for where they were going-Beverly had no idea. And even if she did, she would never have been able to get them there. She could barely keep her eyes open without exposing them to the slash of wind-driven snow.
Her companion, on the other hand, seemed to know exactly where he was going. How? she wondered. Romulans had inner eyelids that protected their vision from sudden changes in their environment, but they were opaque. If the centurion’s had descended, he wouldn’t have been able to see at all.
Maybe a com beacon, or something similar? Her companion could have planted it at their destination so they could home in on it, storm or no storm.
Beverly imagined she would find out eventually. That is, if Sela didn’t find them first.
As Worf sat in the shuttlecraft he had selected for himself and Geordi and ran a diagnostic routine, he found himself wishing his comrade’s memory were better.
Though to be truthful, he reflected, I do not believe I would have remembered a passing reference either. It was impressive, he supposed, that Geordi recalled the incident at all.
Unexpectedly, his combadge beeped. Tapping it, he said, “Worf here.”
“It’s Geordi,” came the response. “There’s a shuttle requesting access to the bay.”
“A shuttle?” the Klingon echoed. “I do not recall scheduling anything of the sort.”
“Well,” said the engineer, “someone’s here. I think you ought to see who it is.”
“Of course,” said Worf. He added: “Any luck?”
Geordi sighed. “I’ve got it narrowed to three worlds. At least, I think I have.”
“Keep trying,” said the Klingon. Then he moved to the bay’s freestanding control station, which would be manned around the clock once the ship was fully repaired-and confirmed that there was a craft requesting entry.
Hailing it, he asked its occupants to identify themselves. When they complied, it made him wonder what the purpose of their visit was. However, considering with whom he was dealing, that was a question best asked face-to-face.
It took a moment for the craft to pierce the semipermeable barrier that separated the shuttlebay from the vacuum of space. The moment it set down on the deck, Worf approached the door built into its starboard side.
As it slid open, it revealed a woman in a black and gray Starfleet uniform. She was slender, almost dainty from a Klingon perspective, her hair pulled back on one side in keeping with the style of the day. However, with her broad forehead and piercing gaze, she radiated authority like few other officers of Worf’s acquaintance.
Stepping out of the craft, she said, “Commander. It’s good to see you again.”
“Admiral Janeway,” said the Klingon. “We were not expecting you.”
The admiral smiled. “I apologize for dropping in without warning. I promise I won’t do it very often.”
That begged the question of why she had chosen to do it now, but Worf chose to let it go for the moment. “Will you be staying long?”
“As long as I have to,” Janeway told him.
He didn’t know what to make of that.
“You see,” said the admiral, “repairing a ship isn’t as simple as it looks. Take the parts problem, for instance.”
“The parts problem?”
“That’s right. You think you’ve got them all at hand, just where you expect them to be, and suddenly some of them disappear on you. It’s rather frustrating.”
Worf had the feeling that Janeway wasn’t talking about parts at all-that, in fact, she was talking