Pantheon - Michael Jan Friedman [104]
Shaking her head, she inserted the tape into the player. It took a second or two before Jack’s message came up.
“Hi, sweetheart. Life on the Stargazer is…how can I put it? Eventful. For the last couple of weeks we’ve been charting a couple of gas giants on a collision course in the Beta Expledar system. The theory was that if two of these gas giants come together with enough force, the resulting body will be heavy enough for its own gravity to instigate fusion—in other words, for the thing to become a star in its own right.
“Well, it’s no longer a theory. I wish you could have seen it. You can’t imagine the outpouring of light…the sheer magnitude of the spectacle…I know I’m not very good with words, but I think you get the idea. It was magnificent.
“On a more mundane note, I’ve made friends with my first Pandrilite—a fellow named Vigo, who’s in charge of the weapons around here. Don’t worry—he hasn’t had any chance to use them yet, and he probably never will. In any case, he’s trying to teach some of us this game called sharash’di. I’ve never heard of it, but it looks interesting, and Vigo says I’ve got quite an aptitude for it. I think he means for a human—but I just might surprise him one day.
“Fortunately, we’ve got a good group on the Stargazer. When you’re working in close quarters, that’s pretty important. You’ve been hearing about Jean-Luc for a long time, of course, but my respect for him grows each day. There can’t be a man alive better suited to head up a deep-space exploration. Ben Zoma’s another born leader—though he’s got a much more low-key approach. Sometimes I think he’d rather hear a good joke than eat. And then there’s—”
Jack’s voice was drowned out by that of Jean-Luc Picard, coming over the Enterprise’s intercom system: “This is the captain. Once more we will be attempting to free ourselves from the subspace anomaly. The maneuver may take some time and involve a fair amount of turbulence; please take all necessary precautions.”
Reluctantly, Beverly switched off the tape mechanism and got to her feet. She would resume, she promised herself, once this “maneuver” was over.
Off duty or not, she wasn’t about to let sickbay get bounced around without being there to pick up the pieces.
As Worf approached the brig, the two security officers faced him and straightened. He set them at ease with a nod and came to stand before the force barrier.
Asmund had been sitting on her bunk. She looked up—and saw immediately that he had nothing in the way of good news for her.
“I am sorry,” he said. “I spoke with the captain on your behalf—”
The woman finished the sentence for him: “But he won’t take the chance.”
He eyed her. “That is correct.”
She nodded. “I suppose I’m not surprised. As one who was raised a Klingon, I hate the idea of sitting here, caged, while the one who arranged it runs loose.” Her eyes blazed with dark fire. “The very idea,” she began, her voice trembling, “the very idea consumes me.”
It took her a few moments to achieve control again. “But as a Starfleet officer,” she said, “I can’t blame the captain. I would probably have made the same decision myself.”
“If you are innocent, it will come out in a court-martial.” He did not expect that to be of much comfort to her now—but what else could he say?
Asmund grunted. “Tuv nagh? Wait for weeks, months, while someone else decides my fate? And I remain an object of scorn and loathing? I am not that patient, Lieutenant. But then, that is not your concern. You have done all you could; I am grateful.”
Turning away from him then, she went back to her bunk and sat down. He stood there for a moment, watching her. Wondering what he would do, how he would feel, if he were in her place.
Then he turned and, with a brief acknowledgment of the officers on guard, made his way back to the bridge.
Sixteen
Standing at his engineering console, Geordi