Death in Winter - Michael Jan Friedman [78]
But it had been a long time since Greyhorse had worked with lab equipment, and even longer since he had held so many lives in his hands. He couldn’t help asking himself questions.
What if I fail? What if I give the Kevrata hope, only to kill it when they see the vaccine doesn’t work? What if I’m not as good as I think I am?
What if I never was?
More than once in the last several hours he had felt unreal, like a wraith haunting his own instruments. He had drifted, unable to keep from mulling things that had nothing to do with his research. Like how quickly a disruptor beam could kill him if the Romulans discovered the rebels’ camp…
Or how quickly he could snap the neck of the centurion who attempted it.
I have to hang on, he told himself. I am the only chance the Kevrata have. And Beverly’s only chance as well, since they couldn’t look for her until the Kevrata were saved.
Greyhorse wished desperately that he were someone else-someone more at peace with himself, more predictable. Someone who wasn’t carrying so many burdens.
But he was what he was. He could only hope that would be enough.
Beverly slumped against the stone wall, but it didn’t mean she was ready to give up. She wouldn’t allow herself to do that with so much at stake.
Unfortunately, the material the centurion had used to tie her wrists-which had been relatively easy to untangle from her ankles-was proving almost impossible to cut through. And at this point, every up and down motion of her hands sent excruciating bolts of pain through her shoulders.
Beverly hadn’t eaten or had anything to drink in a long time-at least a day and maybe two. Her throat was as dry as she could ever remember it, so dry that she could barely swallow.
The cold was getting to her too, stiffening her joints and numbing her extremities. But more important, it was affecting her ability to think, and she needed to be able to do that if she didn’t want this place to become her tomb.
It wasn’t so much the centurion Beverly was worried about-not anymore. In fact, she was beginning to grow certain she would never see him again. For him to have been gone so long, he must have been caught by Sela’s men or attacked by a resentful crowd of Kevrata, or in some other way gotten himself injured or killed.
That meant she alone was responsible for getting herself out of there. And she couldn’t do that with her hands tied behind her back.
Get back to work, the doctor told herself. Do it now.
But if the centurion was no longer part of the picture, her need was no longer quite so urgent… was it? She could rest another few seconds. She could try to get her strength back.
Again, she wished Jean-Luc were there with her. He would have known what to say, what to do. He would have found a way to make everything all right.
That’s what happened when they were trapped in an underground cavern on Minos, after Beverly had suffered a broken arm and leg and multiple lacerations. She was getting sleepy, slipping into shock from loss of blood. But Jean-Luc applied a tourniquet and kept her conscious until their colleagues could find them.
She could still hear him, his voice thick with concern as it echoed through the cavern: “Come on now, stay with me. Come on now, stay awake-that’s an order!”
Beverly was cold that time as well, her teeth chattering, her skin turning clammy. At one point, she actually asked Jean-Luc if he had a blanket-or so he told her afterward.
What I wouldn’t give for a blanket now, she thought. Or a steaming cup of breakfast tea. Or some hot scones, like the ones Jean-Luc gave me this morn—
No. It wasn’t that morning that he had given her the scones. Of course not. It was on the Enterprise, a few days ago. Or… was it a few weeks?
It was hard for her to remember, so very hard. And all she wanted to do was lie down and get some sleep. That wasn’t so much to ask, was it? Just for a few short minutes?
“Come on now, stay awake-that’s an order!”
Startled, Beverly opened her eyes and looked about, expecting to see Jean-Luc kneeling