Possession - J.M. Dillard [66]
“In Ten Forward, sir. I came in early to make sure there was water, and fill the fruit bowls, set out some breakfast foods …”
Worf remembered: Alvarado had volunteered to be in charge of refreshments at the mini-fair in Ten Forward. Worf swung his legs over the side of the bed, reached for a fresh uniform, and started dressing quickly. Alvarado was a level-headed officer, slow to alarm. If she felt the need to rouse him out of a sound sleep, it stood to reason his presence as security chief was urgently required.
“Anyway,” Alvarado continued tersely, “when I arrived in Ten Forward …” She drew in a breath, then the words tumbled out in a rush. “Lieutenant, the place is a wreck! I’s been turned upside down! It looks as though a hundred people went crazy in here!”
“Did you touch anything?” Worf asked, as he donned his clothes quickly, efficiently.
“No, sir. I saw what had happened and called you immediately.”
“Very good, Ensign. Stay there and keep your eyes open. Assume anyone approaching you could be involved and act accordingly. I will be there as quickly as I can. Worf out.”
“Aye, sir,” she agreed, but Worf could hear that the edge of her confidence had been shaken. And why shouldn’t it be? Who would damage the TechnoFair displays in Ten Forward? This made no more sense than the attack on Kyla Dannelke; Worf could understand crimes of passion, but random violence with no motive eluded him.
Straightening his hastily donned uniform, he ran a brush through his hair, then left his room.
He moved through the darkened living area to a respectful distance from the couch, and from there called softly, “Kyla?”
“I see you, Worf. I heard the page.” Her voice was clear, completely awake; as his eyes adjusted to the dimness, he saw that she sat up on the couch where she’d slept, clutching her blanket.
He ordered the computer to raise the lights to only twenty percent, then said, “You must be a very light sleeper if you heard.”
“I am. I couldn’t understand anything being said, but I heard the voice. I assume you’ve got to tend to ship’s business?”
“Yes.” He told her nothing, not wanting to alarm her, and she did not press. “I may not be able to return to get Alexander ready for school.”
“I can do that.”
The familiarity of it all made him distinctly uncomfortable; he fidgeted. “I hate to impose. Normally, another officer helps Alexander when I am called away early, as I help her with her daughter when she must stay on duty late. However, I think it might be better this morning if I did not seek her help.”
Kyla laughed. “More of that chivalrous Klingon honor, Worf? It’s no imposition at all. Alexander and I will enjoy a healthy breakfast, then I’ll see him off to school. I need to get down to my display area early anyway. I’ve got to meet with Dr. Tarmud, and, if I’m lucky, the Vulcan, Skel.”
“Thank you, Kyla.” Before he could move away, she rose quickly and surprised him by taking his face in her hands and kissing his skull plate. He felt the heat of embarrassment on his cheeks.
“Thank you,” she told him, as he stood and collected himself, “for giving me a port in the storm.”
He nodded brusquely and headed for Ten Forward.
Picard had just emerged from his morning shower when he got the page from his first officer.
“Picard, here. What is it, Number One?” He checked the time, but knew instinctively it was too early for Will to be on duty.
“Sir, I think you should come to Ten Forward right away,” Riker said, with that peculiar note of urgency in his tone that always signaled disaster. “Mr. Worf called me down here, and I think you need to be involved.”
The entities, Picard thought at once, with a sense of foreboding; the image of them shimmering benignly, beautifully, behind their force shields rose unbidden. “I’ll be there momentarily. Picard out.”
He did not bother to ask Riker what the matter was; whatever it was, it was bad, and he would find out soon enough.
At the doorway, he hesitated: Beverly might not even be up yet. No need to wake her; he’d just leave