Reunion - Michael Jan Friedman [91]
Worf hurtled down the corridor, with Loyosha and Nevins in close pursuit.
“Commander?”
La Forge looked up from his workstation, where he’d been working feverishly to get the warp drive back online. On the other side of engineering, the Gnalish was standing at an identical workstation, complementing his efforts.
“Progress?” Creordi asked hopefully.
Simenon shook his lizardlike head, never taking
eyes off his monitors. “Not enough. I’ve still got a long way to go.”
Turning back to his own instruments, La Forge smiled. He was getting to know Simenon pretty well-he could tell when the professor had something on his mind. “Then what?” he asked. A pause. “Tell me about the Romulans.”
La Forge was a little surprised by the request. Then he remembered that the Stargazer’s famous twenty-year voyage had taken place during the Romulans” decades-long period of withdrawal. Very likely, he realized with a bit of a jolt, Simenon had never even seen a Romulan-except in tapes, and even those were bound to have been pretty old.
Nor was it hard to figure out what had prompted the Gnalish’s curiosity. When you were sneaking through enemy territory, it was only natural to want to know a little about the enemy. “Tell you about them,” the chief engineer echoed. “Where would you like me to start?”
“Start anywhere,” Simenon instructed.
La Forge smiled again. “All right. For one thing, their technology has come a long way since their alliance with the Klingons. Their ships are bigger, faster, and deadlier.”
“All very comforting,” the Gnalish commented. “And of course,” La Forge continued, “no one schemes better than the Romulans. No one’s more merciless.” He thought about the Enterprise’s various encounters with its Vulcanoid adversaries over the last few years. And of his personal experiences. “On the other hand,” he went on, “they’re people, with their own concepts of honor and loyalty, of right and wrong.”
Simenon grunted. “Ah-hah. A ray of hope. Does that mean they refrain from shooting first and asking questions never? Is there a chance they’ll believe our tale of woe and let us go?”
La Forge shrugged. “Depends on the exact circumstances.” “In other words, no.”
“In other words, it’s pretty unlikely.” The Gnalish sighed. “Sorry I asked.”
Worf couldn’t understand it. As he made his way down from deck eight in a parallel turbolift, his adversary didn’t move out into the corridor. In fact, she didn’t move at all. She just maintained her position in the lift. And the lift maintained its position on deck eighteen. But why? Had she been hurt in the course of Geordi’s maneuver, or maybe in an ensuing melee with her guards—comhurt so badly that she’d had only enough strength to go this far, and no farther? Or was she up to something else entirely? Something he had failed to figure out?
The doors of Worf’s lift opened and he swung out, breaking into a run. Nevins and Loyosha pelted along behind him. All of them had their phasers at the ready-just in case. “Computer,” the Klingon barked one more time. “Location of Commander Asmund.”
“Commander Asmund is in a turbolift on deck eighteen,” the computer confirmed.
Worf’s mind raced as fast as the rest of him. He had a vision of her standing there in the lift, doors open, a grim smile on her face-and then, when she heard him coming, closing the doors and watching the look on his face as she escaped him.
Was that it? Was she trying to humiliate him, knowing he would lead the search for her?
For what reason? Sheer spite?
Or was she truly mad now-not only homicidal, but out of touch with reality in other ways as well?
This time, when the Klingon arrived to confront the fugitive, he had plenty of company. Not only Nevins