Reunion - Michael Jan Friedman [93]
sickbay sustained any damage; there wasn’t even a tricorder out of place.
Of course, Asmund had escaped in the course of the beating the ship had taken. And according to Worf, she was armed with a phaser and dangerous as hell.
But so what? They were also in Romulan space, in peril of being blasted to atoms or—if Fate was kind-merely becoming prisoners of the Empire.
Somewhere along the line, the doctor had decided it wasn’t worth getting scared. And so, when the last of those injured in the attempt to break free of the slipstream had been treated, she’d decided to return to her cabin, and enjoy some much-needed rest. As soon as she stepped out of the lift, Beverly noted the beefed-up security presence in the vicinity of her door. She asked what it was about.
“Lieutenant Worf’s orders,” one of the officers on duty replied. “I see. Then you’ve got squads like these by the captain’s quarters as well? And Commander Riker’s?” “In every occupied residential corridor, Doctor.” Crusher nodded. “Good,” she said. “I wouldn’t want to be singled out for special treatment or anything.” The security officer looked at her. “I beg your par-don?” “Don’t mind me,” the doctor told her. “I’m just asserting my right to be in as much jeopardy as everyone else.”
And while the officer tried to decipher her last statement, Crusher walked by her and entered her apartment. It felt good not to be afraid anymore.
As she stepped inside, she saw a tiny red light shining at her from her bedroom. It was on the tape player—coma
reminder that the thing was on “pause.” And a reminder as well that she’d made a promise to herself about listening to the end of the tape.
She let the light draw her on. Hell-if she was going to be space dust before long, she was at least going to hear the end of Jack’s story first.
Without even ordering the lights to activate, she sat down on her bed and touched the display marked “play.” Immediately, the tape picked up where it had left off.
“comthere’s Greyhorse and Pug Joseph and Simenon, who you’ve heard about also, and—hell, I’d better stop before I read off the whole roster. As I said, though, they’re a good bunch.”
Crusher sat back against her cushions. Maybe that was what had given her this spurt of resolve-the cumulative effect of hearing Jack’s voice these last few days. Exposure to the courage that had-spurred him to life-and ultimately death—among the stars. It was as good an explanation as any.
“And while we’re on the subject of Greyhorse,” Jack went on, “it seems there’s more to him than meets the eye. He comes off pretty quiet, pretty studious. But the other day, I think I caught him in a compromising position … with Gerda Asmund, of all people. You see, Vigo and I were-was
Crusher’s finger darted out and stopped the tape. In the dark of her bedroom, she could hear the thumping of her heart against her ribs-the sudden urgency of her breathing. Touching the mechanism’s control display again, she rewound for a few seconds. Then she played it back again.
“comm to him than meets the eye. He comes off
pretty quiet, pretty studious. But the other day, I think I caught him in a compromising position … with Gerda Asmund, of all people. You see, Vigo and I were repair-+ to the lounge for a game of sharash di. We didn’t know there was anyone in there. And as we came in, we saw Greyhorse and Gerda sort of-well, sort of moving apart, as if they’d just been embracing one another. Anyway, I didn’t want to embarass them, so I just ignored it, and so did Vigo. We went straight to the-was
The doctor shut off the machine. She had heard enough. Oh my god, she thought. Oh my god.
Heart hammering in her chest, she punched her communicator. In the dim light he’d come to prefer, Carter Greyhorse sat in his quarters and considered the Klingon ceremonial knife. It was sheathed almost to the hilt in a black crust of dried blood-Ben