Pantheon - Michael Jan Friedman [11]
Don’t keep me in suspense, said a voice—a huge, throbbing presence that seemed to fill the doctor’s skull.
Obviously, Coquillette had heard it too, because she whirled and looked back at their patient. Beyond the far end of the corridor, Agnarsson had tossed his blanket aside and was getting up out of his bed.
Gorvoy’s mouth went dry. I’ll be glad to fill you in, he thought quickly, knowing the engineer could “hear” him in the confines of his mind. You don’t have to leave intensive care.
I’ve had enough of intensive care, Agnarsson replied, not bothering to conceal an undercurrent of resentment, and I’ve had enough of people talking behind my back.
The doctor glanced at Coquillette. “Leave,” he said.
She shook her head. “Not if you’re staying.”
“Someone’s got to tell Tarasco what’s going on,” he insisted.
Coquillette hesitated a moment longer. Then she opened the door, left Gorvoy’s office and darted to her left down the hallway, heading for the exit from sickbay and the nearest turbolift.
In the meantime, Agnarsson had gotten out of bed and was headed toward Gorvoy’s office. The medical officer rose from behind his desk and went to meet his patient halfway, thinking that would be the best way to make him forget about Coquillette.
It didn’t take long for him to find out how wrong he was.
“Where is she?” Agnarsson demanded impatiently.
“She’s got nothing to do with this,” Gorvoy argued as they got closer to one another. “This is between you and me.”
“That’s what you’d like it to be,” said the engineer. “But I’m tired of listening to you calling the shots—you and your friend, the captain. Now where is she?”
The doctor stopped in the middle of the corridor. “Why is Coquillette so important to you?”
Agnarsson’s silver eyes narrowed. “She pretended to be nice to me, but I heard her talking to you. She’s just like everyone else. She’s scared of me.” He laughed an ugly, bitter laugh. “And who can blame her?”
Only then did Gorvoy realize the extent of the transformation that had taken place. It wasn’t just the engineer’s hair and nervous system that were changing. It was his personality as well.
Quite literally, Agnarsson wasn’t himself anymore. He was something else—something dark and dangerous, despite what McMillan and Hollandsworth had said about him. And the doctor would be damned if he would let such a thing walk the Valiant unchecked.
“Out of my way,” Agnarsson snarled.
“We can help you,” Gorvoy told him. “We can help you cope with what’s happening to you. You just have to go back to intensive care.”
The engineer lifted his chin in indignation. “You like it there so much? Why don’t you go there?”
Before the doctor could do anything to stop him, Agnarsson grabbed him by the front of his uniform and sent him hurtling headlong toward intensive care. The last thing Gorvoy saw was the engineer’s blanket-draped bed as it rushed up to meet him.
Then, mercifully, he lost consciousness.
Dan Pelletier hefted the laser in his hand as he made his way toward engineering…and hoped that he had guessed correctly.
As soon as he heard from the captain that Agnarsson might be getting belligerent, the security chief had led a team down to sickbay—and discovered Dr. Gorvoy slumped at the base of a biobed, bleeding freely from his nose and mouth. Pelletier wasn’t a physician, but he knew a concussion and a set of broken ribs when he saw them.
At that point, Agnarsson had gone from being a misguided fellow crewman to a dangerous and potentially deadly fugitive. And when that fugitive could manipulate objects with the power of his mind, where was he most likely to go…other than a place where the slightest manipulation could place the ship in mortal jeopardy?
Especially when that place was where he had spent most of his waking hours over the last few years.
With that theory in his head, Pelletier had used the intercom to get Gorvoy some help and left a man there to look after him. Then he