Three - Michael Jan Friedman [35]
[101] Gerda Idun’s brow puckered. “You say ‘human’ as if you’ve become something else.”
“We have,” Gerda told her. “We’ve become Klingons.”
“Not literally, of course,” said Idun. “But in all the ways that matter—and there are many of them.”
Gerda Idun seemed to consider the remark. Finally, she said, “How different our lives have been.”
“Have you had any contact with Klingons?” asked Gerda.
The newcomer shook her head. “Where I come from, Klingons are our enemies—the enemies of humans, that is.”
Idun grunted. “That was once true of our universe as well. It was only about forty years ago, at the historic Khitomer Conference, that the situation began to change.”
“Now,” said Gerda, “the Federation and the Empire are no longer enemies.”
“Though,” Idun added, “I sometimes think there are those in the Empire who would have it otherwise.”
Gerda Idun laughed. And though Idun wasn’t normally given to laughter, she laughed along with her.
Gerda saw something in the newcomer’s eyes then—something that appeared and then disappeared with the speed of a stray thought. It was so quick, so fleeting, that she had to wonder if it had happened at all.
“Well,” said Gerda Idun, “it was nice talking with you, but I really ought to get some sleep. With all that’s happened, I’ve been up for about twenty hours now.”
“We understand,” said Idun.
“Besides,” the newcomer added with a sly little [102] smirk, “I don’t want your captain to think we’re in here plotting to take over the ship.”
Idun chuckled. And she wasn’t the chuckling sort—not any more than Gerda was.
The navigator watched for that look in Gerda Idun’s eyes, but she didn’t see it this time. Even more so than before, she had to wonder if it had merely been a figment of her imagination.
“I hope we’ll be able to do this again,” said Gerda Idun. Then she got up and headed for the door.
“Wait,” said Idun, getting to her feet as well.
Gerda Idun stopped and looked back at her. “Yes?”
“You’ll need a change of clothes,” said the helm officer.
Their guest dismissed the idea with a gesture. “I can get a set from the replicator.”
“You can,” Idun agreed. “But why waste the energy it takes to replicate new garments when we can lend you some of ours?” She turned to her sister. “What do you think?”
Gerda thought it made sense. Waste was a sin, or so she had been brought up to believe. “We have more than we need.”
Gerda Idun looked grateful. “All right. If that’s the way you feel. Thanks—both of you.”
Idun inclined her head. “Thanks are unnecessary.”
“You would do the same for us,” Gerda said—and found herself watching their counterpart’s reaction.
The woman nodded. “I would like to think so.”
Then she really did leave. As the door to Idun’s quarters whispered closed behind Gerda Idun, Gerda’s [103] sister turned to her with an expression of approval on her face.
“Remarkable,” she said.
Gerda nodded. “Indeed.”
But she wasn’t sure that she approved of Gerda Idun as much as her sister did.
Chapter Eight
VIGO WOKE TO FIND a face looming in front of him. A Pandrilite face. A very angry Pandrilite face, with a scar running down the side of it.
“What did you do to the shuttle?” the Pandrilite demanded.
Vigo was sitting in a chair with his hands tied behind him, a massive headache throbbing behind his eyes. His ribs hurt too, as if someone had punched him repeatedly. But then, he reflected, phasers were designed to do damage.
“I asked you a question,” said his interrogator.
Vigo remained silent. If the fellow wanted help with his shuttle repairs, he would have to find it elsewhere.
The intruder stepped back, giving the weapons officer a better view of his surroundings. He was in the installation’s mess hall. Neither Sebring nor Runj nor any of the [105] installation’s Starfleet personnel was in sight, but there were six or seven Pandrilites in evidence.
To Vigo’s consternation, Ejanix was one of them. It angered the weapons officer to think that these marauders could hurt his friend and there wouldn’t be anything he could do about it.