Reunion - Michael Jan Friedman [68]
“You know, my friend, I ask that question of myself sometimes. was ‘It was a moment before Ben Zoma realized that the turbolift had come to a stop. And another moment before he could wipe the nostalgic grip off his face, so whoever entered wouldn’t think he was some sort of imbecile.
Then he saw who was standing there, and he smiled anyway. “A pleasant surprise,” he said, “I meant to come see you.” “Oh?” said the newcomer as “the lift doors closed again. “Yes. I thought we should—”
comSuddenly, there was a flash of something metallic. Too late, Ben Zoma realized what it was. Before he could prevent it, the knife had slipped between his ribs and out again. Lord, he thought, I’ve found the killer. But not the way I had in mind.
As a second strike headed for his face, he ducked-and the blade hit the turbolift wall instead. Carried forward by the momentum of the attack, his adversary
fell against him and they grappled. Ben Zoma somehow found the hand that held the knife and managed to keep it at bay. But he didn’t have much time and he knew it. Already, his side was a fiery, gut-wrenching agony as his nerves woke to the damage inflicted on them. Nor did he dare look down to see how much blood he had lost-no doubt, it was considerable. Putting all his ebbing strength into a single uppercut, he managed to stagger the knife’s owner backward. And at the same time to bellow at the intercom grid for security.
Unfortunately, his adversary recovered sooner than Ben Zoma had expected. This time he couldn’t avoid the knife alt-and it cut deep into his shoulder. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he slumped against the wall of the lift and kicked desperately at his attacker’s knee.
By then, however, he was too cold and numb to know if his blow did any damage. The last thing he saw was the knife descending yet again. The last thing he felt was it plunging into his chest. Worf estimated that four minutes had gone by. Four minutes from the time he heard the request for help until he reached the turbolift on deck thirty-three. It would have been faster for him to override the last occupant command and bring the damned thing up to the bridge comb for some reason the lift doors wouldn’t shut. Half a corridor away, he’d seen why. There was an arm stretched out across the threshold-to prevent just the sort of quick attention the Klingon had had in mind. Cursing out loud, he’d noted the blood on the bare hand.
And now, as he knelt beside the body, he cursed again. It was Ben Zoma.
The man had been stabbed a half-dozen times—at least twice in the chest. Nor could Worf ignore the fact, even in his eagerness to do his job and preserve Ben Zoma’s life, that he had seen this kind of wound before. Very definitely, he had seen it before. Removing his honor sash and stripping off the top of his uniform, Worf wrapped Ben Zoma tightly in the fabric of the shirt. It would help to keep the man warm-an important measure, since he’d already gone into shock. Also, it might slow down the loss of blood—which had already been excessive, judging by the pool of gore on the floor of the turbolift.
Placing his forefinger against Ben Zoma’s neck, the Klingon felt for a pulse. There was movement there-terribly weak, but discernible nonetheless.
“My God!” said a voice.
Worf looked back over his shoulder and saw the two women, in civilian garb, grimacing at the sight of Ben Zoma. He couldn’t recall their names, but he knew they were in one of the science sections. A moment later two other civilians approached from the other direction, immediately as stricken by horror as the first two. “What’s happened?” cried a man.
“Keep back,” the Klingon growled. “The situation is under control.” It was only another moment before Dr. Crusher arrived with a medical team in tow. Making their way through the swelling throng of onlookers, they lifted Ben Zoma onto a gurney and moved him into the turbolift.
“Sickbay,” Crusher said. At the same time, she was taking readings with her tricorder. “Give him twenty cc’s of cordrizene. That ought to keep him going until