Dark Mirror by Diane Duane Read Free Book Online Page A

surprise, fumbled at his side for something.
    As his hand came up, Worf kicked it, hard, and the weapon went flying up overhead and across the little room. The man cried out, started to turn back toward Worf, but a second later, Ryder hit him feetfirst in the rib cage, carefully knocking the intruder straight sideways to spare the console and any settings that might remain in it. They went down together, but a second later Ryder had bounced back up to a kneeling position, and the intruder was shouting something pained into the carpet while Ryder, kneeling on the intruder’s back, twisted his wrist backward and up into a position for which nature had never prepared it.
    Worf was pleased: a security action in which the team did not have to stretch itself unduly was an efficient one, which the captain would approve. “Get him up,” he said to Ryder. “Keep him restrained.”
    Ryder and Mirish hauled the man to his feet. Worf studied the rage-twisted face, but no identification came immediately to mind. He touched his badge. “Mann,” he said, “get me an ID on this crewman.”
    “
Working, sir.”
    They stood and waited, looking at the man. “Let me go,” he said, struggling. “I can make it worth your while!”
    Ryder and Mirish gave each other dubious looks. “What are you doing in this area?” Worf said, frowning.
    He was astonished when the crewman actually spat at his feet. “Slave, I don’t have to answer to
you!”
    Worf’s eyes narrowed… for
slave
was not a word one used on a Klingon and lived.
    “
Lieutenant,”
Mann said from the bridge, “
pictorial record identifies this crewman as Ensign Mark Stewart, assigned to botany and hydroponics.”
    “Curious that you should have decided to go so suddenly into computers, Ensign,” Worf said. “A career change?”
    “
There’s only one problem,”
said Mann. “
The computer says that Ensign Stewart is on deck nine, in his quarters.”
    Worf’s eyebrows went up, and Ryder and Mirish looked at each other as Detaith stepped aside to let the captain through.
    “Our intruder,” Picard said, coming up beside Worf.
    “Yes, Captain. But we have a problem. Lieutenant Worf to Ensign Stewart.”
    There was a brief pause, then a somewhat sleepy voice said out of the air, “
Yes, sir? What can I do for you? I’m off shift right now.”
    Worf glanced at Picard. The captain’s eyes narrowed, and he looked back at “Stewart” again. The young man was staring at him with an expression of anger and terror, but otherwise not reacting. Slowly Picard reached out to him. The man tried to flinch away from the touch, but the security staff held him fast. Picard touched the man’s badge: it made no sound.
    Worf looked at Picard. “Take him to sickbay,” the captain said. “I want him and everything about him thoroughly examined. After that, he’s to be secured in the brig once I’ve consulted with Doctor Crusher.”
    Worf nodded. “Nothing is required of you at this moment, Ensign,” he said to his communicator. “I am sorry to have disturbed your sleep cycle. But would you remain awake for a little while? You may be needed.”
    “
Of course, sir.”
Worf gestured with his head at hispeople. Ryder and Mirish hustled the man out, with Detaith behind them, his sidearm ready.
    “I take it he didn’t put up much of a struggle,” Picard said.
    Worf shook his head. “He had no chance. All the same—” He frowned. “I could wish he had. He was… rude.”
    “So I heard,” Picard said softly. “Well. We will have answers soon enough… and I suspect he will have leisure to repent his rudeness.”
    They headed out together.
    Beverly Crusher pursed her lips and turned away from the man lying bitterly silent and with closed eyes on the diagnostic bed. Beverly was in a bad mood, for mystery annoyed her except in the abstract. When it turned up in her sickbay, she tended to give it short shrift, preferring revealed fact and clean diagnosis to clinical pictures