Nightshade

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  Troi glanced at Worf. He fought an urge to shrug. He had done nothing new. Why the woman’s fear level was rising so rapidly, Worf couldn’t understand. Unless, of course, she had tampered with the evidence. That would explain it easily.

  “Are you sure this was Ambassador Picard?”

  “It is the only non-Orianian genetic sample we found on the cup.”

  Worf had to nod at that, of course. It would make it easy to discriminate. Human tissue would be rare on a planet of nonhumans.

  “Would you like to see for yourself, Counselor?” Worf asked it, and moved away from the scanner, closer to Stasha. The woman seemed to shrink in upon herself. Worf was very careful to merely stand, hands clasped loosely in front of him. He tried to look nonthreatening, which was harder than it sounded, but he did try. Stasha did not seem reassured.

  Troi glanced up once from the scanner as if expecting to find Worf beating the woman with a rubber hose. What was Troi sensing from Stasha? Worf very much wanted to ask, but knew better. Such revelations had to wait for privacy, or the right occasion.

  “It does appear to be a match,” Troi said.

  “All that this proves is that Captain Picard was standing near General Alick,” Worf said. He looked directly at Stasha, it was only polite to make eye contact.

  Stasha swallowed hard enough for it to be visible. “That is true. Even our own general left trace evidence on the poison cup.”

  “So this really proves nothing,” Worf said.

  Stasha nodded too vigorously, like a puppet whose strings had broken. “Of course, it is just one piece of information.”

  “All information is welcome,” Worf said. He moved toward the woman, not so much a step, as a subtle motion. Though he had meant nothing by it, she backed away from him, before he was even close, her back striking the wall.

  “Worf, please!”

  Worf glanced back to see Troi’s face wild, a mirror of fear. He had done nothing to the doctor, nothing. She had tampered with the evidence and her guilt was ruining her. That had to be the answer, nothing else made sense.

  Worf decided to show Dr. Stasha what true intimidation could be. He strode towards the frightened woman and never said a word. He simply walked toward her, like he would walk down a hallway. He kept his face utterly blank, except for his eyes. He let all the frustration and anger over the captain’s arrest spill into his eyes.

  Worf stood in front of the woman. His hands were loose at his sides. He lied to her with his eyes, only his eyes. The lie was, I will hurt you, I will break you, if you do not help me.

  Dr. Stasha was so small, Worf towered over her. He stepped even closer using his bulk to threaten. There were so many things you could do short of striking someone. Fear crawled over Stasha’s face. Her bulging eyes darted back and fourth, looking for some escape.

  “Worf, don’t!”

  Worf ignored Troi’s plea. “What do you know of General Alick’s death?” he asked.

  “N-n-nothing. I swear it.” Her voice was high-pitched, nearly squeaky with fear. She sounded like a littie girl.

  “She doesn’t know anything. She doesn’t know anything? Troi ran forward and grabbed Worf’s arm, whirling him around. “You’re frightening her for nothing, do you hear me, for nothing?”

  Troi was screaming at him, ranting. He had never seen her like this. “Counselor Troi, are you well?”

  Troi stopped, a look of puzzlement crossing her features. She just stood there hesitant, a little pale. She touched her fingertips to her forehead. “I don’t know.”

  He took her arm, gently but firmly. “You do not look well.”

  Troi glanced up at the Orianian. Worf followed her gaze. Stasha was still cowering against the wall, but some expression moved over her face that wasn’t frightened at all. “She’s doing it,” Troi said, at last.

  “What are you saying, Counselor?”

  “Dr. Stasha is an empath who can project her emotions. She was filling me with fear for herself. It made me want to protect her from you.”

  “I have done nothing,” Stasha protested. Her face was all innocence and fright, but no one was buying it anymore.

  “I did not harm her,” Worf said.

  “But she thought you would.” Troi shook her head gently, clutching at Worf’s supporting arm. “I feel dizzy.”

  He turned to glare at Stasha. “Is she harming you now?”

  Troi thought about that for a minute, trying to sort out her own feelings from the lingering traces of the woman’s. “No, it’s just an aftereffect of such a powerful intrusion into my mind.”

  “Didn’t you know what she was doing?”

  “I have done nothing wrong,” Stasha said.

  “Silence!” Worf snarled. She shrank, if possible, even closer to the wall. Her eyes shifted from one to the other, frantic to find an ally between the two of them.

  “Stop it, Doctor” Troi said.

  “Stop what?”

  “Your nervousness grates on my mind. Get out of my thoughts.”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about. I have done nothing to you.”

  Troi stepped away from Worf. She stared at the doctor’s pinched face. “Are you an emotion reader?”

  “Emotion readers are only legends,” Stasha said. “They aren’t real.”

  Troi walked very carefully toward the woman, as if approaching a nervous wild animal. “You don’t have to be afraid of me, Doctor. Just answer our questions. We won’t hurt you.”

  “You lie.” She whispered it.

  “Ambassador Worf has not harmed you.”

  “Yet,” Worf said. He knew it only made Stasha’s fear worse, but he couldn’t let the woman off free if she knew something. Terrified or not, empath or not, that did not change things.

  Troi glared back at him. “Worf, you aren’t helping.”

  “She would not be this afraid of us unless she knew something about the captain’s innocence.”

  Troi spoke in a quiet voice, the voice reserved for children, and patients. “You are what my people call an empath, an emotion reader and a broadcaster,” Troi said.

  “No, there are no such things. Legends, old soldier stories.”

  “Stop it!” Troi nearly yelled it.

  “I am doing nothing,” Stasha said.

  “Troi, is she harming you?” Worf asked.

  “Stasha is one of the most powerful projecting empaths I have ever been around, and the woman has no idea of her power. Earlier she was doing it on purpose, trying to gain me as an ally, but now it is accidental. She leaks her fear into my mind without meaning to.”

  Troi took a deep breath and stepped away from the woman. “I don’t understand why I can’t shield my mind from her.”

  “Are you all right, Counselor?”

  “No, but it is not her fault. She doesn’t mean to hurt me.”

  “I am not harming you,” Stasha was almost in tears. “I have harmed no one.”

  “We are not going to hurt you,” Troi said. She glanced at Worf as she said it. Worf nodded his assent. Troi rewarded him with one of her warm smiles.

  Worf would not harm the doctor. There had to be another way to find out the truth. Yet, he did not have the stomach to abuse someone who was such a victim.

  Breck came in from the hallway. “Colonel Talanne and her guards are here.” His eyes widened, and a look of surprise crossed his face. Something in the room had caught him off guard, but what?

  “Yes,” Worf said. He glanced at Troi for some confirmation. If he had seen it on Breck’s face, then Troi must have felt something. The look on her face said she had.

  Breck saluted, then walked back to the door. “They are free to enter.”

  “What is wrong with Breck?” Worf spoke low for Troi’s ears only.

  “I’m not sure. Something he found in this room just now surprised him greatly.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Not a satisfactory answer, Counselor,” Worf
said.

  “I don’t have a better one, Worf.”

  Talanne swept into the room with four guards at her back. Breck followed behind them. The long, narrow laboratory was suddenly crowded.

  “What is going on here?” Talanne asked. Her voice echoed in the room, demanding more than asking.

  Worf stepped forward. “We are looking at the evidence collected from General Alick’s cup.”

  “Dr. Stasha, are you all right?” Talanne didn’t even look at Worf. Her attention was all for the delicate woman behind him.

  Stasha glanced at Worf and Troi, then scooted around them, practically running to Talanne. She hid behind the wall of body guards, her relief plain on her face, almost smug. Had her cringing been an act?

  Talanne cupped the doctor’s face in her hands, raising the small face upward. She stared into her eyes, seeking something. “Have you been harmed?”

  Worf wondered for just a moment if Stasha would lie. He did not trust the woman, but what fell from her lips was the truth. “Not yet.”

  Talanne nodded. “Good, I was hoping I would arrive in time. My guards told me you were questioning the good doctor.”

  “In time for what?” Troi asked. She walked forward toward Talanne’s bodyguards. Breck moved in her way.

  “Not too close, mind-healer. Everyone is nervous. Caution is best.”

  Troi stared at the sentinel. “We have had a murder. If we are to find the truth, we must stop these elaborate precautions. We must trust each other.”

  One of Talanne’s bodyguards laughed rudely behind his, or her, mask. Talanne silenced it with a glance. “As you say, mind-healer, we have had a murder. It makes trust very difficult for us.”

  “You said you came in time. In time for what?” Troi repeated.

  “Breck, did you inform them of our laws on gathering evidence?”

  “No, Colonel, I did not.”

  She nodded. “It is allowed that you act in your own best interest. But, Breck, Dr. Stasha did not deserve such treatment.”

  “She has not been harmed,” Breck said.

  “No,” Talanne said softly, “I see that.”

  Worf stepped into the middle of the room. “I am tired of being talked around, as if I were not here. What did Breck fail to tell us?”

  “You are allowed to see all the evidence against your captain. You are allowed to use any means available to ascertain that the evidence gathered is legitimate.”

  “We were doing that,” Worf said.

  “But even in cases involving important leaders, no one is allowed to seriously harm, or kill, nonsuspects.”

  “You mean, Dr. Stasha thought we were going to kill her?” Troi asked.

  “Hurt her, at the very least,” Talanne said.

  Troi turned to Breck. “That’s what you were so surprised about when you came in. You were shocked that we hadn’t harmed her, yet?”

  “That is why I waited out in the hall with your other guards. We were to keep anyone from interfering,” Breck said.

  Worf just stared at Breck for a moment. He could hear the blood pounding in his head, a loud sound that echoed the anger he could feel rising up from his gut. “You thought I would harm a civilian, a noncombatant?”

  “Forgive me, Ambassador, but yes, that is what I thought.”

  Worf turned to Talanne. “And you came to stop us from killing the doctor?”

  “Yes.”

  Worf drew a great breath of air through his nose, then let it out very, very slowly. “I am a Klingon warrior and an acting ambassador of the Federation of Planets. I am not an assassin, or a murderer of innocent bystanders!” He let the anger grow in his voice, fanning his rage with words. He wanted to scream at them all. What did they think Klingon honor meant? What did they think of the Federation? They were barbarians and thought he was.

  He glanced at Troi and saw horror on her face. She was as sickened by this ludicrous situation as he was, perhaps more. It was not the thought of beating a confession out of Stasha that angered Worf, but the assumption that the big bad Klingon would not be able to resist it.

  “Colonel Talanne, are you saying that we are allowed to harm people just because we think they might know something about this crime?” Troi asked.

  “How else can you be sure that they are not lying?”

  Troi glanced at Worf, his eyes widened. Betan-Ka’s fifth rule: Everyone lies. “If everyone is as frightened of us as Dr. Stasha was, how will we ever question them?”

  “You make sure they are telling the truth,” Talanne said.

  “How?” Worf demanded.

  “By hurting them until you are sure they are not lying. The law says only that you cannot permanently maim or kill those you question. That is the only law in a case where one of our leaders has been killed.”

  “You are talking about torture,” Worf said. The rage was fading away to be replaced by a sort of wonderment too great for mere surprise.

  “That is the word you would use,” Talanne said. She was utterly calm about it, as if there was nothing wrong with it. “You seem shocked, Ambassador. I was under the impression that the Klingons were experts at the art of pain and extracting information.”

  “Klingons do torture when it is necessary,” Worf said, quietly, “but torturing civilians is not honorable.”

  Talanne just stared at him. “You are a strange people. Or perhaps it is living among humans that has changed your attitude.”

  Worf swallowed hard. These people were not listening to his words. He spoke very carefully, each word clipped and offended. “I assure you, Colonel Talanne, that all Klingons view civilian torture as distasteful. Torture is only acceptable when the person is strongly suspected of some crime, then only if they are a warrior. We do not torture nonwarriors, or innocent people.”

  “You will not torture the civilians whom you question then?” she asked.

  “No.” Anger tightened the muscles in his shoulders. But he would do nothing to prove that Klingons were the monsters the Orianians thought. It was they who were monsters.

  “Then I do not see how you will ever help Picard. Our people know no other way, Ambassador Worf. They will not help you prove the murderer of one of our leaders innocent. Think upon this, Ambassador: if you prove Picard innocent, then one of us must be guilty. None of my people will willingly help you do that.”

  “Breck is aiding us.”

  “His life is as much at stake as Picard’s.” She stepped through her bodyguards until she was nearly touching body to body with the tall Klingon. “Remember this the next time you become squeamish. None of them will help you without the incentive of pain. None of them.”

  Worf glared down at her, breathing too quickly, his hands balled into fists. “I am not squeamish.”

  Talanne smiled. “You are, but because you are new to our planet, and Picard came to help us, I will help you, this once.” She stared into Worf’s face as she said, “Hold her.”

  Two of Talanne’s bodyguards grabbed the doctor. Stasha made a small cry of protest. “I have not lied. I have not lied!”

  Her small, pinched face crumbled into terror. Worf wanted to look away. Such fear should not be seen by a crowd. It was personal and not meant to be shared.

  Troi staggered. If Breck hadn’t caught her, she would have fallen.

  “The healer is not well, Ambassador Worf. May I take her to your room?”

  “Troi, are you all right?” Worf cursed himself for not realizing that Stasha’s fear would be projected onto Troi again. If it had been strong before, it had to be worse now.

  “You can’t let them hurt her. You can’t let them . . . Can’t breathe.”

  The sharp crack of a slap behind him brought Worf’s attention from the nearly fainting Troi to Stasha. She was crying, a heartbroken sobbing. Tears trailed down Troi’s cheeks. Worf had to stop this, now.

  “We do not want her harmed,” Worf said. He started forward, intending to wade through the Orianians if necessary to free the doctor
.

  The bodyguards drew weapons. Breck drew one as well, and suddenly the room was full of potential death. The faint line from pain to disaster was about to be crossed, unless someone did something.

  Troi raised her voice to be heard, and it cracked like a child’s. “Is there anything we can do to convince you not to hurt her?”

  “She will only lie to you, if I stop,” Talanne said.

  “Then stop,” Troi said.

  “We cannot stand by while you torture her,” Worf said.

  “Then you will do it yourself?” Talanne asked.

  “Damn you, woman, don’t you understand. She will not be tortured while we can stop it!” Worf growled.

  Talanne glanced at the drawn guns. “You would risk your lives to save a stranger pain? A stranger that might clear your Picard?”

  Worf glanced down, then up. He wanted to wade into the guards and start throwing people. But he just stared at Talanne, letting the anger and frustration show in his eyes. If she feared him, she hid it well. “There has to be an honorable way to clear Captain Picard,” he said.

  Talanne gave the smallest of smiles. “You Federation people are a strange lot. Let her go.”

  The bodyguards released the weeping doctor. She stood uncertainly in the midst of so many potential enemies. She was like a rabbit in the midst of a dog pack. There was no truly safe haven. She finally turned tear-stained eyes to Troi. “I swear to you by the fruit of the last tree that the evidence I showed you was exactly what I found. I have not lied to you, and if you come back to question me, I will not lie to you then either.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Stasha,” Worf said. “I believe we have all we came for, Colonel. I think we had all better leave the doctor to her work.”

  Talanne laughed out loud. “You offer honor and truth, Ambassador. And you expect the same in return.” She shook her head. “I wish you luck with your honor and truth, because your Picard will need all the luck he can get.”

  “I am not honorable because of what it will gain me, Colonel Talanne. I am not honorable because it will impress my enemies. Honor is an end in itself. It exists even if everyone around me is dishonorable. The only honor I must worry over is my own.”

  “A pretty speech, Ambassador Worf. Let us hope that Captain Picard does not pay the ultimate price for your . . . high ideals.”