Three - Michael Jan Friedman [2]
“And?” said the navigator.
Her sister sighed. “Refsland is probably imagining what it would be like to have sex with us.” Then, seeing that Gerda was still perplexed, she added, “You know ... at the same time?”
Gerda realized her mouth was hanging open. She closed it. “Why do you say that?” she asked.
“It’s a fairly common daydream among human males,” said Idun. “You’ve never heard of it?”
“No,” said Gerda, uncomfortable with her ignorance. “I haven’t. But why would anyone want to have sex with two people at once? Wouldn’t it be dangerous?”
“Only among Klingons,” Idun noted.
Gerda frowned. “Right. Stupid of me.”
Humans had a significantly gentler sex life than Klingons did—Gerda and her sister being notable exceptions to that rule. Having been raised on the Klingon homeworld by a Klingon family, their sexual hungers and behaviors had been formed in the steaming cauldron of their [3] adopted culture—much to the chagrin of Gerda’s recently adopted lover, Carter Greyhorse.
Or at least, Gerda added, that was the way he had felt at first. After a while, Greyhorse had grown accustomed to her decidedly Klingon brand of intimacy.
She glanced at Refsland again. He seemed intent on his console, where it was his job to periodically study ambient conditions against the prospect of an emergency transport. But Gerda got the impression that he was only biding his time before he snuck another peek at her and her sister.
The navigator felt a hot lump of anger lodge in her throat. It wasn’t the notion that Refsland wanted to have sex with her that bothered her so much. It was the idea that he coveted her only because she was a twin.
Without meaning to, she expressed the thought out loud.
“I know,” said Idun, though she didn’t sound particularly resentful. “It’s as if we’re a matched set of bat’leths, valuable only because we’re exactly the same.”
Gerda shot another look at Refsland. He was talking to Paxton, the communications officer, and laughing about something she couldn’t make out.
For their sake, Gerda hoped it wasn’t what she thought it was.
“Besides,” she pointed out, “if Refsland wants to have sex with two women at once, why does he prefer that they look alike? Wouldn’t it be a more satisfying experience for him if they looked different from each other?”
Idun grunted. “One would think so. Sometimes I find humans more difficult to understand than any other species I’ve met—Vulcans included.”
Gerda nodded in agreement. And it didn’t seem to [4] help that she and her sister were humans themselves.
As she thought that, she noticed that Refsland was leaving the bridge. With a sigh of relief, Gerda turned back to her monitor and resumed her search for navigational hazards.
It was a job she did better than anyone else on the Stargazer, Idun included. So much for their being exactly the same, she reflected, putting the thought of Refsland and his irksome imagination aside.
Ensign Andreas Nikolas stopped in front of his captain’s featureless, gray ready-room door and smoothed the front of his cranberry-colored uniform.
It would take a moment before the door chimed to let Picard know there was someone outside it. The ensign used that time to put himself in the right frame of mind. After all, it wasn’t every day he had a private meeting with his captain.
Nikolas just wished he had some idea what it was about.
Finally, the duranium surface slid aside with an audible breath of air, revealing the warm but efficient interior of Picard’s ready room. As Nikolas walked inside, he saw that the captain—a man only about five years his senior—was studying some information on his computer monitor.
The ensign smiled deferentially. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
Picard turned to him and pointed to the chair on the other side of his sleek, black desk. “I did indeed, Ensign. Have a seat.”
As Nikolas sat down, he saw Picard’s brow crease [5] ever so slightly. He didn’t think it was a good sign.
But what had he done to deserve a reprimand? Nothing he could think of. Then what—?
“Prior to your