Reunion - Michael Jan Friedman [11]
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. was “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.
hank 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 seared him—comand 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 sec-ond of it.
“Sorry to interrupt, Commander. I didn’t know you were in here. was “That’s quite all right, sir. I was almost finished anyway. was She brushed aside a lock of blond hair, wet with perspiration. Breathed through her teeth, like… like what? An animal? “Er … those knives … they’re very unusual.”
The blades were razor-sharp, the handles savagely carved. Made of some wood he’d never seen before-and the workmanship was so intricate, it looked like the things were writhing in her hands. “Yes-they are unusual. They’re Klingon-made. was “Oh. I see. was Later on, he’d taken a closer look at her file, and discovered why she had such an affinity for things Klingon. As children, she and her twin sister had been the only survivors of a Federation colony disaster on the planet Alpha Zion. As luck would have it, the Klingons intercepted the colony’s distress calls and reached it before Starfleet could-no doubt hoping that there would be Federation technology there worth raiding. Apparently, there wasn’t. Just a couple of towheaded five-year- olds, sunken-cheeked and huddled against the elements. Normally, it would have been unthinkable for a Klingon to take pity on a human. But after what the Asmund twins had gone through, it was obvious that they were made of sterner. stuff than most Homo sapiens. Their courage was something the Klingons could not ignore-nor could they leave them there in the ruins, counting on Starfleet to arrive before the girls died of starvation or exposure. The captain of the Klingon vessel packed the humans
aboard his ship. He brought them back to his sister and her husband, who were childless, giving them the option of keeping them—or disposing of them as they saw fit. They kept them-and raised them as klingons. Apparently, the training took, if Asmund’s exercise session was any indication. 7wicea survivor, Kuznetsov had musedupon finishing her file. First comAlpha Zion, and then the Stargazer. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised. But something was still gnawing at him-still bother-+ him. What? For lack of any other options, he called up her sister’s file-and realized where he had heard the name Asmund before. How could he have forgotten? The incident had brought the Federation this close to losing the Daa’Vit as allies-maybe even starting a war.
idun had never been linked with what her sister did, Her slate was clean.
But they were twins. Was it possible that she hadn’t known about her sister’s plan? Hadn’t even suspected?