Pantheon - Michael Jan Friedman [55]
Crusher leaned forward. “Captain…how much did Idun and Gerda resemble each other?”
It was a chilling thought.
“They were identical,” said Picard. “I could barely tell them apart, except for the fact that Idun sat at the helm and Gerda at navigation.” He shook his head. “But what you’re suggesting seems a bit farfetched.” He regarded Troi. “Counselor…have you sensed anything to make you suspect Idun is not who she seems?”
Troi shook her head. “No, not really. Just the sort of ambiguities one might expect from a human raised by Klingons.” She paused. “Though I must admit, I have had little experience with Idun’s sort of mind. There is a discipline there that keeps me from reading her emotions very well.”
“What about the transporter?” asked Geordi. “Wouldn’t it have a record of her bio-profile? One we could match with her records?”
“Inconclusive,” ruled Crusher. “If Gerda and Idun have the same bio-profile—which has been known to happen with identical twins—then we would have no way of knowing if Gerda beamed aboard in her sister’s place.”
“They did have the same profile,” Picard noted reluctantly. “I remember that.”
Riker regarded him. “And Idun was at Starbase 81 long enough for Gerda to make the switch.” He looked thoughtful, then frowned. “But I have to agree with the captain. We’re looking a bit far afield—especially when Idun herself has a motive.”
“You mean revenge?” asked Troi. “For what happened to her sister?”
“Make that two motives,” the first officer amended. “I was thinking more along the lines of her completing Gerda’s mission.”
“Completing…” Picard began. “To what purpose, Number One?”
“The same purpose as before,” said Riker. “To create a rift between the Federation and the Daa’Vit. To eliminate any need for the Klingons to share a conference table with their old enemies. And with Morgen inheriting the crown of Daa’V, they could hardly have picked a better time to kill him. Not only would the Daa’Vit break ties with us, they’d be thrown into a state of internal disarray.”
The captain shook his head. “Idun Asmund has served Starfleet with distinction for more than two decades. She has never given anyone any reason to doubt her loyalties.” He straightened in his chair. “When Gerda made her attempt on Morgen’s life, I decided that it would be the gravest of injustices to punish Idun for her sister’s crime—and I have not changed my mind in that regard. If there is evidence to incriminate her, fine. But let us not judge her on her choice of sibling alone.”
“All right, then,” said Riker. “What about the others?”
Those at the table exchanged glances. It was not an easy thing to hold up one’s fellow officers as murder suspects—particularly when the Stargazer survivors had become so well liked. And Picard sympathized; he was no more eager to hear such accusations than his officers were to voice them.
But someone had committed an act of violence on his ship. He could not allow that to happen again.
“Commander Riker asked a question,” said the captain. “I want answers.” He turned to Troi first. “Counselor?”
The Betazoid sighed. “Mr. Joseph is not a happy man, sir. He is bitter—disillusioned.”
“Over his failure to advance his career?” said Picard.
Troi nodded. “Apparently.”
“Do you think,” asked the captain, “that his unhappiness would manifest itself this way?”
“It is difficult to say. I do not think Joseph resents Morgen in particular. If he has focused his resentment on anyone, it is Commander Cadwallader.”
“Then again,” said Riker, “Morgen was below him once in the chain of command—just as Cadwallader was.”
“And when one is irrational,” offered Crusher, “one may lash out at anyone.”
Troi shook her head. “Joseph is not irrational—at least, not as far as I can tell. But he is angry. At times, extremely angry.”
Riker indicated the mess of wires and black boxes. “Does he have the knowhow to make something like this?”
“He is not an engineer,” said Picard, “if that’s what you mean. But security work does involve a knowledge of ship’s systems.”
“Greyhorse has some technical