Reunion - Michael Jan Friedman [108]
The chief engineer smiled If the maneuver failed this time, if they had miscalculated, it had at least been one hell of an adventure. Steeling himself, he gave the computer its marching orders. Idun Asmund studied the face of Gilaad Ben Zoma. It was gaunt and bloodless, so different from the handsome, smiling countenance that had been the man’s trademark. It was painful for her to look at him-but being a true Klingon, she forced herself to do it any-way.
After all, he was dying. Not quickly, not without a fight, but he was dying nonetheless. And there might not
be too many more opportunities to see him while there was still breath left in him.
Asmund looked at Pug. He knew also that Ben Zoma wasn’t long for this world. She could see it in his eyes. It occurred to her that Pug might even feel responsible for what had happened. After all, he was a security chief—one of a breed that would sooner die themselves than see something happen to their commanding officers. She sympathized, feeling responsible as well. Hadn’t it been her knife that had stabbed Ben Zoma? And wasn’t it her lapse of vigilance that had allowed Greyhorse to obtain it? Asmund recalled the first time she’d ever seen anyone die. Though she and Gerda had been too young to understand at the time, her family was embroiled in a feud with another clan. There had been threats, then violence. And finally, in the middle of the night, two men had brought her father’s older brother into the house. She remembered her mother closing the door against the billowing mists. She saw her father again as he helped lay his sibling on a table—as he tore aside Lenoch’s cloak and inspected his wounds. And she felt anew the mixed sense of fear and fascination-the guilt that had taken hold of her as she and Gerda peeked into the room all unnoticed by the adults.
Like Ben Zoma, Lenoch had been stabbed over and over again. Even in the dimly lit foreroom of her father’s house, even against the dark hues of Lenoch’s clothing, she had been able to see the blood-a lot of it and in many places. Her father had cursed at the sight. The rest was a blur. She had a vague impression of being discovered by her mother-of being sent back to
bed. Not that she and Gerda had been able to sleep. They’d lain awake all night gazing at each other, wide blue’eyes a-glitter with moonlight, listening to the gut-tural exchanges in the rooms below them. Listening and wondering-until the night was shattered by the sound of a half dozen voices bellowing all at once. Like the cry of the taami-wolves that roamed the hills back on Alpha Zion, but with a tinge of something distinctly Klingon. And by that howling, they knew that Lenoch was dead.
But there was more-wasn’t there? Before she and her sister had been shooed upstairs, hadn’t she seen something else? Something that Gerda had remarked about once they were alone in their bedroom? She frowned. It bothered her that she couldn’t remember. Gerda would have remembered—but Gerda wasn’t around to be asked. Idun forced herself to concentrate. What was it? What had they seen? Suddenly, the deck beneath her feet shuddered and shifted, forcing her to hold on to Ben Zoma’s biobed in order to maintain her balance. It lasted only a couple of seconds, however. Idun looked around.
Certainly, the lack of a more violent tremor was encouraging. But no one was saying anything. At least, not until they received official word.
Then it came: “Attention, all decks. This is Captain Picard. We have returned to normal space with minimal damage to the warp drive and other systems.”
There were murmurs of approval, sighs of relief. One doctor slapped another on the back.
“Please note,” the captain’s voice resumed, “that the crisis is not yet over. Our emergence from the slipstream phenomenon has deposited us once again in Romulan space. However, we are much closer to the Neutral Zone
this time.” A pause. “We will maintain yellow alert status until we leave Romulan territory-which, if all goes well, should be a matter of just a