Three - Michael Jan Friedman [44]
Idun shrugged and cast a conspiratorial look at Gerda Idun. “Perhaps,” she allowed.
The newcomer clapped Idun on the shoulder and turned to Gerda. “She’s all yours.”
The irony of the comment wasn’t lost on the navigator. “Thank you,” she said, “but I don’t feel much like sparring anymore.” With a glance at her sister, she left the gym.
But even before the doors hissed closed behind her, Gerda knew she had made a fool of herself. She had acted like a petulant child, not a full-grown woman—[129] and certainly not like an officer on a Federation starship.
Unfortunately, it was too late to take back her behavior, and she couldn’t bring herself to apologize for it—not to a woman who wasn’t what she seemed. So she kept on going, down the corridor and into the turbolift.
And she didn’t stop until she reached her quarters.
Chapter Ten
AS PICARD ENTERED engineering, he saw Simenon working at a sleek, black console in the shadow of the warp reactor. Crossing the room, the captain joined him.
“Mr. Simenon,” he said as he approached, “you wished to speak with me?”
“I did,” the Gnalish confirmed without looking up. “Take a look at this, will you?”
What Picard saw, when he peeked over Simenon’s shoulder at his monitor, was a blue-on-black grid overrun by a swarm of yellow dots—all of them emanating from a larger yellow configuration in the corner of the screen.
“The dots,” said the engineer, “represent the influence of the anomaly. As you can see, it’s one hell of a powerfully charged system—one that can turn a simple ship-to-ship transport into a much more unusual event.”
“Like a transit from one universe to another.”
[131] “Indeed,” said Simenon.
Picard nodded. “So it’s as we suspected—the anomaly is the culprit in this case.”
“Mind you,” said Simenon, “I can’t say that for certain. But I’ve ruled out every other explanation. Under the circumstances, I think we’d be wise to go with this one.”
The captain looked at his engineer. “And in terms of reversing the process?”
Simenon shrugged his narrow shoulders beneath his lab coat. “All we have to go by is the Enterprise’s experience. They got their captain and his officers back by remaining in the presence of that ion storm.”
Picard saw where the Gnalish was going. “So if we want to send Gerda Idun back—”
“We’ll have to do it in the presence of the anomaly,” said Simenon, “or find one just like it. And you know what the odds of that are.”
“I see,” said the captain.
“Fortunately,” the engineer added, “our shields are a match for the anomaly’s radiation output. So, theoretically, we can stay here indefinitely without endangering the crew.”
“Theoretically,” Picard echoed.
But that only took into account the anomaly. And in time, another sort of danger would likely rear its head.
“Of course,” said Simenon, “I’ll need to make some alterations to one of the transporter systems. Lieutenant Asmund got here in one piece only through sheer, dumb luck. For her to get back in one piece, she’ll need some help.”
[132] The captain nodded. “How long do you expect these alterations to take?”
Simenon made a face. “Did they ask da Vinci how long it would take to paint the Mona Lisa?”
Picard frowned at him.
“A day or so,” said the Gnalish, “assuming I’m not asked to fix some EPS relay in the meantime.”
The captain assured him that there weren’t any EPS repairs in the offing. Then he left Simenon to do his work.
Vigo paced the storage room in which he and his colleagues had been imprisoned, still wrestling with the question of why his friend had become a traitor.
It didn’t make sense to him. He and Ejanix had been raised in the same enlightened society. They had been exposed to the same high-minded cultural values.
For that matter, the intruders had been exposed to them too. Yet they seemed to have forgotten what their elders taught them back on Pandril. Otherwise, they would neither have coveted someone else’s technology nor considered the use of violence in obtaining it.
And in Ejanix’s case, it wasn’t just Pandrilite culture