Pantheon - Michael Jan Friedman [216]
The commander nodded. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”
Ben Zoma looked at him. “Now what?”
Picard frowned. There was really only one option, as far as he was concerned. “Now we go after the depot.”
His colleague smiled a halfhearted smile. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”
“If you were in my place,” asked the second officer, “would you be turning back now?”
“If I were in your place,” said Ben Zoma, “I wouldn’t have come this far in the first place.”
Picard shot him a disparaging look.
“You asked,” his friend reminded him.
By the commander’s estimate, they were still two hundred and fifty billion kilometers from their target—more than twenty minutes’ travel at warp seven. With their pursuers out of the way, there was still plenty of time to change course and head for the barrier instead.
But Picard had undertaken a mission, and he was determined to see it through. “Resume course,” he told Idun.
The helm officer seemed to approve of the decision. “Aye, sir,” she said, and made a small adjustment in their heading.
Soon, the commander reflected, their struggles would be over—one way or the other.
Pug Joseph looked down at Serenity Santana, whose dark eyes were closed in recuperative repose.
She might have died in her fight with Jomar, he told himself. The Kelvan might have miscalculated and killed her. And then Joseph would never have had the chance to speak with Santana again…
And to tell her he was sorry.
Not for being vigilant, because it was a security officer’s job to be vigilant. But for not accepting her apology when she tendered it to him in the engineering support room on Deck 26.
On the other side of the triage area, Dr. Greyhorse was puttering around with his instruments. He seemed distracted—as distracted as Joseph had been when he last visited sickbay. Or maybe, knowing how the security officer felt about Santana, the doctor was simply giving him some privacy.
Joseph gazed at the colonist again and resisted an impulse to straighten a lock of her hair. He had been so determined not to get fooled again, he had almost prevented her from going after Jomar.
If he had been successful, the Kelvan would have faced Picard and Ben Zoma alone, without any help from Santana. There was no telling what would have happened to the officers then.
Picard trusted her, Joseph thought. Maybe I should have trusted her too. He resolved to tell her that when she woke.
There’s no need, said a voice in his head. You’ve told me already.
And Santana opened her eyes.
He felt his face flush with embarrassment. “You were reading my mind,” he said accusingly.
“Are you upset with me?” she asked, her voice thin and reedy from the medication Greyhorse had administered.
The security officer started to say yes, started to protest that she had violated his privacy. Then he stopped himself. “Not anymore,” he told her. “Not after what you risked to stop Jomar.”
Santana smiled wearily. “I was afraid he would transform me into a tetrahedron,” she murmured, “the way he transformed Brentano. That made me fight a little harder.”
“So he wouldn’t get the chance,” Joseph deduced.
“Uh huh.” The colonist drew a breath, then let it out. “I’m glad you’re not angry at me.”
So was he. He said so.
“I’m so tired,” Santana told him, stumbling over the words. “Would you do me a favor, Lieutenant?”
“Anything,” the security officer answered.
“Would you stand guard over me? Just for old times’ sake?”
He nodded. “I’d be glad to.”
A moment later, Santana was asleep.
* * *
Picard regarded the Nuyyad supply installation on his screen and counted the number of warships circling it.
“Is it my imagination,” he asked Ben Zoma, “or are there four vessels defending the depot again?”
“There are four, all right,” said his friend. “Apparently, the Nuyyad had other ships in the area.”
“And maybe more on the way,” the second officer noted. “All the more reason to act quickly.”
Ben Zoma didn’t respond to