Reunion - Michael Jan Friedman [73]
Joseph shifted in his seat. He seemed more curious than resentful. “Nonetheless,” Picard went on, “I regret that it was not possible to let you in on the secret as well. I trust that you will understandas a security officer and as a friend.”
He turned to the others. “I have bad news. Gilaad Ben Zoma was assaulted just a little while ago in a turbolift on deck seventeen. He is in sickbay now-in critical condition.”
Morgen cursed elaborately.
“My God,” Greyhorse whispered. “How critical?” The captain regarded him. “Dr. Crusher says there’s no way of knowing at this point.” Pug just sat and stared. He seemed lost, unable to connect with what he was hearing.
“On the other hand,” Picard added, “we have found the assassin. She is in the brig, under guard.”
To Morgen and Greyhorse it was fairly obvious to whom he was referring. Besides Cadwallader, Asmund was the only female in the Daa’Vit’s escort.
To Pug, however, it was not quite so obvious. The captain spelled it out: “Idun is the one who tried to kill Ben Zorna, Pug. Just as she tried to kill Morgen and Cadwallader earlier.”
The security officer leaned back heavily in his chair. Finally, he uttered his first word since Picard had entered the room: “Why?” He looked around for help from his Stargazer shipmates. “What the hell would she want to do that for?”
Picard told him—about the attacks, the suspicions, everything. By the time he was finished, Joseph’s complexion ‘had darkened to an angry red.
“But now it is over,” the captain announced. “It hurts me that Commander Asmund could have come to this. And it hurts me even more that Captain Ben Zoma is in such straits. But at least it is over.” Greyhorse sat up a little straighter. “Captain, if there’s anything I can do…”
Picard shook his head. “Nothing at the moment. But I will relay your offer to Dr. Crusher.”
The Daa’Vit trained his feral yellow eyes on the captain’s. I know, Picard responded silently. We need to talk.
O’Brien scanned Ten-Forward from his vantage point near one of the observation ports. The place was buzzing like crazy. “News spreads fast around here,” Eisenberg noted. The transporter chief nodded, regarding the young man across the table from him. He’d met Eisenberg only a couple of weeks before, when the medical technician expressed an interest in joining O’Brien’s notorious poker enclave. Of course, O’Brien had had to explain about the length of the waiting list, which was longer than ten Enterprises put together.
But at the same time, he’d taken a liking to the fellow. In fact, in some ways, Eisenberg reminded O’Brien of himself at the outset of his first starship assignment. Eager but unseasoned, and a little daunted by the danger-which was considerable at the moment, the transporter chief had to admit.
That’s why O’Brien had made it his personal mission to lighten the younger man’s load. To help him forget his worries, if only for a little while. And Ten-Forward had seemed like the best place to do it-until the crowd began to pour in, all a-flutter with accounts of Ben Zoma’s discovery and Asmund’s subse-quent arrest. “Fast?” O’Brien gave out with a short, sharp laugh. “That’s an understatement if I ever heard one.” He used his glass to indicate the entirety of the lounge. “On a good day, you can start a rumor on the bridge at 0800 hours-and it’ll reach the last table in Ten-Forward before you have a chance to close your mouth.”
Eisenberg looked at him a little skeptically. “Really.” The transporter chief shrugged. “Well, maybe I’m exaggerating just a bit. I don’t get up to the bridge that often, y’know. But I think you get the idea.”
The med tech took a drink, then put his glass down. “I
guess everyone’s just relieved. Can’t say I blame them, either.” He shook his head. “Can you imagine? A murderer on board-shooting phasers, plunging knives into people…”
“Tampering with holodecks,” O’Brien added, think-+ it sounded a little more benign-as long as one left out the details. “That too. It