Reunion - Michael Jan Friedman [77]
She took a half-step toward him. It brought her dangerously close to the energy field. “You were the one who identified the knife wounds,” she said. “It could only have been you. Correct?” “Correct.”
“And it was your duty to report what you found.” “Correct again.” Asmund nodded. “Then you believe I am guilty.” Something shifted uncomfortably in Worf’s gut-as if he’d eaten too many serpent worms. “That is for others to judge.”
“Of course it is. But what do you believe?” He shrugged. “I must believe the evidence.” “But there is no evidence,” she insisted, her voice
rising an octave. With a visible effort she took hold of herself again. “Or, rather, what there is is circumstan-tial.”
“I leave the shades of legality to the advocate general’s office,” he told her. “My job is to see that the ship and her crew are safe.”
“Then do your job. But look beyond the evidence-if you want to call it that. Follow your instincts.” A pause. “What do they tell you? That a Klingon would have tampered with a holodeck? Or opened fire on three, unarmed and unsuspecting victims? Or tarnished a ceremonial knife with an enemy’s blood?” She struck her chest suddenly and viciously. “I am a Klingon, Lieutenant. I would not have dishonored my family with such behavior-even if I were inclined to kill someone.” The woman’s eyes blazed with a cold fire. “My sister tried to kill Morgen-a fact it seems I will never live down. But she wasn’t a coward. She didn’t do it with sabotage or attacks in the dark; your files will confirm that. Misguided as she was, Gerda’s attempt on Mor-gen’s life was in keeping with the Klingon tradition of assassination. I say it again: she did not act like a coward.”
The thing in Worf’s gut began to writhe. He had to admit it— Asmund’s words had the ring of truth to them. “You know I’m telling the truth, Lieutenant. And you know also the importance of one’s name-one’s honor.”
The Klingon flinched inwardly. Did she know of his discommendation? Apparently she did. But then, it was hardly a secret in the Empire. And if Asmund maintained any contact at all with the family that raised her…
“Yes,” he said with as much dignity as possible. “I know of that.” “I must clear my name, Worf.” She had dropped the Starfleet title and was using his given name; the signifi. canoe of that choice was not lost on him. Asmund was calling upon him as a Klingon might call on another Klingon-as a warrior might call on another warrior. “I must find the assassin and bring him to justice. And I can’t do that while I’m sitting in the brig:”
The security chief’s eyes narrowed. “What would you have me do? Free you?”
She regarded him. “Talk to Captain Picard Make him see-he’ll listen to you.” Her hands became fists. “I’m not your killer, Worf I am not the one you’re after.”
He looked at her—looked deep into those strange, blue-shadow eyes-and found he believed her. “Please,” the blond woman said—not like a warrior this time, but like a human. “There is no one else on this ship who might understand You are my only hope.” Worf took a breath, let it out. “I will consider what you’ve said. Beyond that, I make no promises.”
“Tell him I can help in the investigation.” She came closer, her face only inches from his now. “Tell him I can. be of use to you.” Asmund reached out to him. “I can be of use, you kn equals ” She must have reached out just a little bit too far-bemuse there was a savage burst of light and the woman was flung back into her cell.
Worf resisted the impulse to go in and help her. The energy barrier worked in both direction; he would have suffered the same fate. So he could only watch as Asmund shook off the effects of the force field and pulled herself to her feet. Watch—and gain a measure of respect for her stamina.
Humans weren’t supposed to be able to get up so quickly after being jolted like that.
She looked at him. “That was stupid.”
He agreed. He said so. Then he added: “Maj dock SID ghos nagh. was It was a Klingon saying-in essence, “Good things come to those who wait.”
Asmund