Progenitor - Michael Jan Friedman [91]
“It’s true,” said Picard, “that she spoke with Captain Rudolfini and discussed the openings that have occurred on the Crazy Horse. But she wanted me to emphasize that she is not going to fill either of those openings.” He smiled. “I repeat, Admiral, so there will be no further confusion—Commander Wu isn’t going anywhere.”
McAteer cursed long and volubly. Either his source on the Crazy Horse had been lying to him—which he sincerely doubted—or Picard had somehow gotten Wu to change her mind.
But why would in heaven’s name she do that? Wu prided herself on her efficiency, sometimes to a fault. What could possibly keep her shackled to a captain several years her junior, a man as raw as one of the oysters the admiral had eaten at lunch?
And what was he going to tell Shalay? That Wu had decided to stay on the Stargazer after all? That he had resigned his position on the New Orleans for nothing?
Maybe, the admiral told himself, he could come up with a reason to relieve Wu of her duties on Picard’s ship. Then he could insert Shalay as he had planned.
No, he argued inwardly. You can’t.
It was his order that had placed Wu on the Stargazer in the first place. If he got rid of her now, it would look like he had made a bad choice, and he hadn’t gotten to be an admiral in Starfleet by making himself look bad.
McAteer pounded his fist on his wooden desk, shivering everything on it. Damn Picard, he thought. Damn Wu. And damn Mehdi for putting him in this position in the first place.
But the war wasn’t over. Eventually, Picard would make a mistake. And when he did, McAteer would be there to capitalize on it.
Nikolas opened his eyes and found himself in sickbay.
“What am I—?”
“Doing here?” Greyhorse said, finishing the question for him. The doctor was standing to one side of the ensign’s biobed, checking its readouts. “You had a little accident.”
“Accident . . . ?” Nikolas muttered.
“That’s correct. In the ship’s gymnasium.”
It started to come back to him. He was sparring with Idun. She had asked some pretty startling questions. And then...
“She hit me,” the ensign realized.
“Several times in succession,” said Greyhorse, “if the bruises you sustained were any indication.”
Nikolas shook his head. “Amazing.”
“I agree,” said the doctor.
He wasn’t speaking to the ensign when he said it. He was gazing in another direction, as if lost in thought.
“Doctor Greyhorse?” said Nikolas.
Greyhorse turned to him, his eyes still a little out of focus. “Sorry. I was just thinking of . . .another patient.”
He didn’t mention who it might be. But then, Nikolas didn’t really care. He had other fish to fry.
Swinging his legs aside, he sat up and said, “I think I’m okay now. Mind if I go?”
Greyhorse gave him a disparaging look. “What sort of physician would I be if I released someone who had just been worked over by one of the Asmund sisters?”
The ensign frowned. “Just how long do you think it’ll be before I can get out of here?”
The doctor shrugged. “That’s hard to say. Mr. Nikolas. In the meantime, just out of curiosity... what did Lieutenant Asmund do to catch you at such a disadvantage?”
Nikolas described the maneuver to Greyhorse—at least, to the extent that he could remember it. Then, a little curious himself, he said, “Why do you ask?”
To the ensign’s surprise, Greyhorse went red in the face. “I’m your doctor,” he said, a note of annoyance in his voice. “If I’m to treat you, I need to know how you were injured.”
It made sense, Nikolas thought. But for just a moment there. . .
No, he told himself. Not again. He had gotten into enough trouble lately by misinterpeting what someone was thinking.
From now on, the ensign resolved, he would stay out of people’s heads—especially when they fought like a Klingon.
Look for STAR TREK fiction from Pocket Books
Star Trek®
Enterprise: The First Adventure • Vonda N. McIntyre
Strangers from the Sky • Margaret Wander Bonanno
Final Frontier • Diane Carey
Spock’s World • Diane Duane
The Lost Years • J.M. Dillard
Prime Directive • Judith and Garfield