Pantheon - Michael Jan Friedman [31]
“Mom, are you feeling all right?” asked Wesley, entering her office. Unlike her, he was still in uniform.
She smiled. “Of course I’m all right. Why shouldn’t I be?”
He shrugged. “I heard that Captain Picard had assembled some of his officers in Ten-Forward. You know—to meet the Stargazer people. And I knew you weren’t on duty, so…if you’re feeling okay, why aren’t you there? In Ten-Forward, I mean, with everybody else?”
Crusher sat back in her chair. “That’s a good question, Wes.”
The boy—she would always think of him that way, she couldn’t help it—regarded her with a lack of understanding. “I don’t get it,” he told her. “Don’t you want to see Dad’s old friends?”
She shrugged. “Yes and no.”
The lack of understanding deepened. “Why the no part?”
The doctor sighed. “This may sound strange, Wes, but I’ve come to terms with what I knew of your father. With the Jack Crusher I knew. And loved.” Another sigh. “I don’t know if I want any new memories. Not if they’re going to make me start mourning him all over again.”
Wesley started to say something, thought better of it. “Mom,” he went on finally, “this isn’t like you. You’re not the kind of person who backs off from things.”
“From most things, no.” The doctor found she couldn’t look at him, so she looked at her desktop monitor instead. She didn’t blame him for being surprised at her. To tell the truth, she was surprised at herself. “From this thing…I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”
Silence. An uncomfortable silence—for him, no doubt, as well as for her. But she didn’t break it.
In the end, it was Wesley who took the initiative. “I suppose,” he said, “you’ve got the right to do what you want.” There was a hint of pain in his voice; maybe someone else wouldn’t have noticed it, but she did. “If it doesn’t bother Captain Picard, maybe it shouldn’t bother me either. But I intend to get to know these people—that is, if they let me.”
Her heart went out to him. “Wes…”
“I don’t have your memories, Mom. I’ve got to find out all I can about him. And if it makes me start missing him again, then I’m willing to pay that price.”
It hurt to hear him say that. “You do what you have to, Wes. Just forgive me if I don’t feel the same way, all right?”
The pique cooled a little inside him. Not all at once, but it cooled.
Just like Jack. Slow to hurt, slow to heal. Wasn’t that one of his favorite expressions?
“Look,” said Wesley, “I didn’t mean to say all that. Maybe it’s not my place.”
“You can say anything you want to me, Wes. Anything.”
“But it doesn’t mean you’ll agree with me.”
“It’s not a matter of agreement. It’s…” She shook her head ruefully, at a loss for words.
He came around the desk and took her hand. She looked up at him.
“Try to understand,” she said.
“I will,” he assured her.
Then he left, and she drew up her knees and hugged them as hard as she could.
Three
“Thank you for having us,” Asmund told Vice-Admiral Kuznetsov.
He smiled at her. “The pleasure was all mine, Commander.”
Walking up ahead of them in the corridor, Simenon and Greyhorse were at it again, having found some new subject to work over. Kuznetsov never thought he would be saying this—not even to himself—but he had grown fond of the engineer and the doctor in comparison to the way he felt about Idun Asmund.
Not that she was rude, like Simenon. Nor was she annoyingly intellectual, like Greyhorse. Far from it—her comments were simple, down to earth. And certainly, she was wonderful to look at.
But, strange to say, she scared him—and had from the first time he met her. Of course, in the beginning, he couldn’t understand why.
Then he’d inadvertently walked in on her exercise session. Exercise indeed. It looked for all the world as if she were fighting for her life—and enjoying every second of it.
“Sorry to interrupt, Commander. I didn’t know you were in here.”
“That’s quite all right, sir. I was almost finished anyway.”
She brushed aside a lock of blond hair, wet with perspiration. Breathed through her teeth, like…like what? An animal?
“Er…those knives