Reunion - Michael Jan Friedman [90]
As he’d intended, it got the children’s attention. So fascinated were they by the sight of his tears, they forgot their own problems. A couple of them even started giggling. Morgen mugged an expression of sadness, and they giggled some more. More mugging, more giggling. Be-fore they knew it, they were laughing out loud.
The woman shot him a look of gratitude. He nodded a
little and went on with his act-one that had become a favorite of the children on his own ship over the years. One little boy even came over and put his arm around the Daa’Vit. “It’s all right,” he said. “There’s nothing to be scared of.”
Morgen turned to him, still releasing great globby tears, “Are you sure?” he asked.
“Uh huh,” the child assured him. “Captain Picard will take care of us. That’s what my mom always says.” As if on cue, the Daa’Vit’s communicator beeped. Tapping it out of reflex, he opened the communications channel on his end. “Morgen here.”
“This is Picard,” the captain told him. “We’ve got a problem-or more accurately, another problem. Are you alone?” “One second, please.” Standing, the Daa’Vit winked at the children. Then he retreated to the other side of the cabin. “All right. You can go on now.”
The captain didn’t waste any time. “Asmund has escaped her cell. She’s at large and she’s got a phaser.” Morgen digested the information. “Acknowledged.” “I want you to return to your quarters.”
The Daa’Vit made a sound of disgust. “I’ve spent enough time in my quarters,” he complained. “More than enough time. Your people need my help.”
“My people,” Picard said, “will survive better without you.” The level of authority in his voice went up a notch. “You are a target, Morgen. And as such, you are a danger to everyone around you.” The Daa’Vit looked back at the children.
“Report to your quarters, my friend. Or I will have a security team escort you there.”
The Daa’Vit forced himself to be objective-to see
the wisdom in his former captain’s words. “As you wish,” he answered finally. “Morgen out.”
He lingered only another second or two-just long enough to consider the little ones and the woman in their midst. None of them had any idea what kind of dangers they faced-both from within and without. And that was probably just as well.
“Do you have to go?” a little girl asked. He nodded. “I’m afraid so. But thanks. I feel a lot better now that you’ve cheered me all up.”
Then, before he could entertain any rebellious second thoughts, he took his leave of them.
The Klingon in Worf urged him to face Commander Asmund alone-but- the security chief in him recognized he had a greater chance of success if he called in backups. In the end, the security chief won out.
As he reached deck eight, however, none of his backups had arrived. And the situation didn’t allow for delay. Drawing his phaser, Worf pressed his back against the bulkhead, and quickly but silently made his way along its curving surface. At any moment, he knew, he might come face to face with the fugitive-though given the head start she had, it was far more likely she’d already gotten into the battle bridge. And that was the reason for his haste.
When he slid within view of the bridge doors, he noticed that they were closed. Nor did they show any signs of having been forced. A neat job indeed. He’d hardly completed the thought when reinforcements arrived in the forms of Nevins and Loyosha. “Is she in there, dissir?” asked Nevins.
Worf was about to answer in the affirmative when he realized he was only going on a supposition. Turning his face upward, he queried the computer as he had earlier. “Computer-what is Commander Asmund’s location?”
Again, the answer was immediate. “Commander Asmund is in a turbolift on deck eighteen.”
Worf looked at his security officers. They looked back. “Deck eighteen?” Loyosha echoed.
What was she doing? Trying to forestall the inevitable? Worf didn’t believe it. Asmund was too smart to believe she would elude them for long this way. Putting himself in her place, the Klingon conceded he might throw a single curve at his pursuers-and the