Three - Michael Jan Friedman [32]
Almost done, Vigo told himself, firing barrages to one side and then the other even though he couldn’t quite see what he was firing at.
Finally, he touched the last stud in the sequence—and heard the shuttle’s systems spiral down into a well of silence. Only the craft’s life supports, which drew on a backup battery, continued to function.
Another beam struck the shuttle and glanced off it, missing his head by a handsbreadth or less. But he didn’t let it faze him. Pulling his arm back out of the hole, he replaced it with the barrel of his weapon.
Then Vigo pressed the trigger—and saw the control panel erupt in a spurt of white-hot sparks. That was important if he was to cover up his handiwork. Just to be certain, he kept firing at the thing, watching the sparks start to spawn tongues of pale blue flame.
Keep going, he thought. As long as you—
But before he could get any further, he felt something hit him with bone-shattering force. It drove the breath from his lungs and the feeling from his body, leaving him quaking and all but inert.
[92] He tried to continue firing into the shuttle, but to no avail. As if from a distance, he saw the phaser fall from his hand and hit the ground.
Come on, he urged himself. Pick it up.
But as he bent to retrieve the weapon, he felt another impact. And a moment later, he slipped into darkness.
Chapter Seven
WHEN NIKOLAS ENTERED the ship’s mess hall, he could barely contain his impatience—or his excitement.
He wanted to share it, too. So when he saw his friend Obal, he headed right for him. He didn’t even stop to get a tray full of food from the replicator.
“You look cheerful,” Obal observed as Nikolas sat down opposite him.
“That,” said the ensign, “is because the most amazing thing just happened to me.”
“Oh?” said the Binderian.
“It was unbelievable,” said Nikolas. “I was walking down the corridor and I saw one of the Asmunds coming the other way with Lieutenant Joseph.” He shook his head, still unable to believe it. “And she smiled at me.”
The security officer looked understandably perplexed. “How unusual ...” he remarked.
[94] Nikolas laughed. “You’re not kidding it’s unusual. I mean, it wasn’t just one of those ‘have a nice day’ smiles. I’m telling you, her whole face lit up. It looked like she was really happy to see me.”
“Remarkable,” said Obal. “But—”
“Now,” said Nikolas, “all I have to do is figure out whether it was Gerda or Idun and take it from there.”
“Actually,” said the Binderian, his brow puckering, “it may be neither of them.”
The ensign looked at him. “What are you talking about?”
“You obviously haven’t heard, but there is a third Asmund aboard at the moment.”
Nikolas studied his friend’s face, which was as serious as he had ever seen it. “You’re joking, right?”
“I’m afraid I’m not,” said the security officer. “The woman who smiled at you ... what was she wearing? Was it a Starfleet uniform or something else?”
“Something else,” Nikolas recalled.
“The black togs the Asmunds often wear when they work out?”
Nikolas shook his head. “No. Gray tunic. Gray boots. And dark blue pants.”
Obal nodded judiciously. “Then the woman you saw was neither Gerda nor Idun, but the third Asmund of whom I spoke.”
Nikolas didn’t get it. “What are you saying? That they’re triplets all of a sudden?”
“What I am saying,” Obal told him, “is that the Asmunds seem to have a counterpart in another universe, and she arrived on the Stargazer a bit more than an hour ago.”
[95] Nikolas frowned. Obviously, he had missed something while he was down in the science section. “Maybe you’d better start at the beginning, pal. And go nice and slow, all right?”
Obal agreed that he would do that.
Gerda frowned and shifted her weight in her seat. This was taking a very long time. At least, it seemed that way.
“What’s keeping them?” she asked her sister.
They were sitting on two of the three chairs in Idun’s anteroom—a couple of Klingon chairs fashioned from wrought iron. The third chair, which was made of softer materials to accommodate non-Klingon guests,