Three - Michael Jan Friedman [14]
Carter Greyhorse took his duties as chief medical officer quite seriously—most of the time.
At this particular moment, however, he was engaged in the sort of activity not envisioned by the architects of the Stargazer’s sickbay. One of his colleagues, with whom he happened to be fiercely and hopelessly in love, was pinning him against the bulkhead behind his desk—her lips pulled back from her perfect, white teeth, her fingernails etching lines of hot, fiery pain in his face, neck, and chest.
And to that point, Greyhorse had loved every second of it.
“What if someone walks in?” he asked softly, as Gerda gnawed on his lower lip.
“Then I’ll hear them,” she assured him. “I was trained as a warrior, remember?”
The doctor took comfort in the knowledge that Gerda didn’t want their affair made public any more than he did. Relationships between officers were frowned on in Starfleet. If Captain Picard found out about them, he would be forced to recommend a transfer for one of them.
Hence, the need for secrecy—even from Gerda’s sister, Idun, with whom she shared every other detail of her life. It was a need that ruled their lusts most of the time. [37] But their schedules had kept them apart of late, and Gerda always found it difficult to be denied.
Almost as much as Greyhorse himself did.
Still, it made him nervous to carry on like this in his office, with its transparent walls. But he didn’t dare let Gerda know how nervous. After all, she was a warrior, as she had said, and she expected no less of her lover.
If the doctor appeared too worried, Gerda would interpret it as weakness. And nothing put a damper on a Klingon-style love affair like a perception of weakness in the male.
“Tell me,” the navigator said in a husky whisper, “have you ever had a fantasy about me and my sister?”
He looked at her, surprised. “A fantasy?”
“You know ... a sexual fantasy.”
Greyhorse hadn’t had any such thing. But even if he had, he would never have admitted it to Gerda.
“Of course not,” he said.
She made a sound of triumph. “I didn’t think you had. So Idun was wrong. All humans are not alike.”
The satisfaction Gerda derived from this conclusion seemed to further ignite her ardor. Her nails dug deeper into Greyhorse’s flesh, under his jacket where a couple of scratches wouldn’t be noticed. Her lips pulled back even further and her breath came a little faster.
“I have to be on the bridge in a few minutes,” she said. “But if I didn’t ...” She let her voice trail off suggestively.
Suddenly, Ben Zoma’s voice flooded Greyhorse’s office, turning the doctor’s blood to ice. It was only after he looked around and saw that the first officer himself [38] wasn’t anywhere in evidence that Greyhorse realized the voice had issued from the intercom system.
“Yes ... ?” he managed in response.
“The captain would like to see the senior staff in the briefing room,” said Ben Zoma. “Ten minutes.”
The doctor forced himself to breathe. “I’ll be there,” he assured the first officer.
“Good. Ben Zoma out.”
Greyhorse looked at Gerda. Despite her warrior’s poise, she too looked to have been startled by the intercom message. It gave him some satisfaction that he wasn’t the only one.
“Looks like you’ll have to leave sooner than you thought,” he told her.
“So it does,” she said.
“Gerda?” said Ben Zoma, his voice ringing through sickbay a second time.
Her gaze hardened as she once more became the dutiful navigator. “Aye, sir?”
“The captain wants to see the senior staff in the briefing room. Ten minutes.”
“Acknowledged,” said Gerda.
“Thanks. Ben Zoma out.”
Greyhorse let out a breath. “I suppose we should leave sickbay separately. We don’t want to give anyone any ideas.”
Gerda nodded. “I’ll go first. The captain will expect me to be there early.”
“As usual,” said the doctor.
His lover kissed him hard on the mouth. Then, without another word, she turned and left his office.
[39] Greyhorse watched her stride across sickbay and heaved a sigh. His heart was still pounding