Nightshade - Laurell K. Hamilton [40]
She looked up from the matchmaker. “Please, see for yourself. The matches are perfect.”
Worf crossed his arms across his chest. He fought an urge to glare down at her. Perfect matches, indeed. “How are we to know which samples came from the poisoned cup and which were collected afterwards?”
‘Worf.” Troi said.
‘What?”
‘Please excuse the ambassador and myself for just a moment, Dr. Stasha?”
Stasha bowed her acknowledgment.
Troi grabbed Worf’s arm and pulled him to the far side of the room.
‘Worf, you practically accused that woman of lying.”
‘She is obviously nervous about something. If she did tamper with the evidence, then hinting that we suspect her may make her admit it. Besides, it is important to assume that everyone is lying.”
‘For heaven’s sake why?”
‘Everyone lies. It is the fifth rule of Betan-Ka’s principles of investigation.”
‘Well, you can’t let her know you think she is lying.”
Worf frowned down at her. “I did it deliberately, Counselor. I want her to know I suspect her.”
‘Why?”
‘It will make her nervous without threatening her. You did warn me not to bully people.”
Troi pursed her lips into a thin disapproving line. “Accusing people of crimes without some proof is a form of bullying. Dr. Stasha has been nothing but gracious to us. We do not need to alienate her without good cause.”
Worf thought about that for a moment. He had not yelled, or so much as raised a hand, and still Troi said he was too harsh. “Very well. We will do this your way-for now.” He walked back towards the waiting doctor.
Troi followed him, like an apprehensive shadow. The counselor seemed determined to keep him reined in. He was beginning to feel like Picard when Riker urged him once too often to be careful.
‘You may show us how your machine works,” he said. He stood very close to the Orianian. She seemed frail beside him and aware of that frailness. Good.
‘Perhaps you would care to look first, Healer,” Stasha asked. She carefully avoided looking at Worf. Her slightly bulging eyes held a visible anxiety.
‘I am the Federation ambassador, I will look first, Doctor.” He wanted to add, “or do you have something to hide,” but he resisted.
‘Of course, of course, I meant no insult.” Her anxiety was almost painful to watch. Real fear chased through her eyes. Worf did not understand. He had not even raised his voice to her. He glanced at Troi to see if she was picking up anything more, but the counselor’s attention was focused on Dr. Stasha. Troi never even met his eyes.
‘These controls help adjust the view through the eye pieces.” Stasha pointed to two knobs on either side of the box. “The upper will adjust the fit of your face to the machine. The lower is for focusing.”
Worf pressed his eyes just over the viewer. Two indistinct blurs met his eyes. As he brought the vision into focus, lines formed. Gray, black, white stripes solidified before his eyes. There were too many bands to count, all squished together. The pieces looked identical, but still…
‘Whose sample is this?”
‘The Green woman, Liv.”
‘Is there a way to bring the samples together, to let them touch?”
‘Of course, so sorry that I did not think to explain it.” Stasha moved forward. She hesitated as if unwilling to brush against Worf but she reached out a tentative hand, pointing. “There is a small lever here to shift the platform.”
Worf bent back over the scanner, and carefully shifted the pieces closer and closer together. They met nearly perfectly. The small defects were an accident of having to cut and paste the genetic material. The samples themselves were as close to a perfect match as Worf had ever seen. There was no mistake. If he could trust Stasha, then Liv had left traces in the poisoned cup.
If they could trust Stasha. Worf frowned. He did not trust her. Her anxiety, even fear of him with so little cause, had to have a reason.
How could they trust the Orianians not to tamper with the clues? How could they trust Captain Picard’s life to strangers? Especially strangers