Pantheon - Michael Jan Friedman [148]
“Half impulse,” the helm officer confirmed.
She had laid in a course already, based on the coordinates transmitted to her minutes earlier by Commander Eliopoulos. Applying starboard thrusters, she gently brought the Stargazer about. Then she engaged the impulse engines and left Starbase 209 behind.
As usual, Gerda was bent over the navigation station. Idun glanced at her sister—and saw that she was typing something on her comm pad. The helm officer was able to guess the sense of the message before she saw it appear on one of her monitors.
Where now? Gerda wanted to know.
Idun smiled to herself. Where indeed? Clearly, they were headed for the other side of the galactic barrier—her sister knew that much already. But what did they expect to find there? What did they hope to accomplish? That was what Gerda was really asking.
Eventually, both Idun and her sister would be briefed by Commander Leach or Commander Picard and given the answer to Gerda’s question. But for now, Idun was more than content to savor the question itself.
And judging by the expression on her sister’s face, Gerda felt the same way.
Pug Joseph had taken a turbolift down to the brig just as soon as Lieutenant Ben Zoma contacted him.
After all, he’d had to make certain that everything was in running order. The last thing he wanted was to have his superiors arrive with their prisoner and find that the force field was on the blink.
Of course, the security officer reflected, as he leaned on the wall beside the field controls, Ben Zoma hadn’t actually called the woman a prisoner. But if she was anything else, she would have been given a suite of guest quarters instead of a small, spartan cell with a guard outside. Abruptly, Joseph heard the clatter of boot heels from around a bend in the corridor. Straightening, he listened to the sounds grow closer, louder. Finally, Lieutenant Ben Zoma turned the corner.
He wasn’t alone. Fox and Sekowsky were with him, carrying phasers. And a woman was walking between them—a small, slender woman with a black ponytail and dark, exotic eyes.
“Mr. Joseph,” said Ben Zoma, acknowledging him. “This is our guest, Serenity Santana. Please see that she’s not any more inconvenienced than she needs to be.”
“I will, sir,” Joseph answered.
Santana, he repeated inwardly. The name suggested energy and exhuberance, spice and spirit. In his mind, at least, it seemed to fit her.
The woman didn’t wait to be escorted into her cell. She walked in of her own volition. Then she sat down on the bench seat within and watched as Fox manipulated the force field controls.
A moment later, a not-quite-transparent barrier sprang into existence across the cell mouth. It was powerful enough to cause any human who came into contact with it to lose consciousness.
But Joseph, along with every other security officer on the ship, had been warned—Santana wasn’t just any human. It was possible, if only remotely, that the electromagnetic field wouldn’t hold her. Hence, the need for live, armed guards, who would monitor her every minute of the day.
And if she was as adept a telepath as they suspected, even armed guards might not be enough to keep her from escaping. So Joseph and whoever else was watching Santana would have to check in with a superior every five minutes…just in case.
Not so long ago, Ben Zoma had lectured him about his overzealousness. But surely, this was one case where he couldn’t be overzealous. No amount of caution would be too great, Joseph told himself.
Even if the woman did look pretty harmless.
Ben Zoma put his hand on Joseph’s shoulder. “You’ll only be here a couple of hours. Then I’ll get you some relief.”
The security officer nodded. “Acknowledged.”
Ben Zoma smiled at the terseness of Joseph’s response. Then he left, and Fox and Sekowsky followed in his wake.
Joseph turned to Santana. For a moment, their eyes met and locked. Then, made uncomfortable by the contact, the security officer turned away.
“I don’t bite,” she told him.
He looked back at her, but he decided not to reply.