DS9 - Prophecy and Change (b) by Star Trek

Author:Star Trek [Star Trek]
Language: deu
Format: epub
Tags: \Star Trek
Published: 2011-01-02T08:00:36.471000+00:00

Jadzia stepped over the threshold of her quarters, greeted by an atonal aria from Kahless and Lukara blasting over the comm system. Another voice to add to the cacophony in her head. She massaged her sinuses with her thumb and forefinger, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. Worf must have already come off his shift, she thought, sniffing for the salty richness that would foretell gagh for dinner. Maybe they could go to Quark’s instead; he’d supposedly added a whole list of rare Rigellian favorites to his replicator files. In her present frame of mind, one of Sirella’s steaming, spicy, blood-based puddings might put her off food for a week.

As if he sensed her thinking about him, Worf emerged from their bedroom, a mek’leth cradled in one arm. Uncertain whether his first words would be endearments, a to-do list, complaints, or questions about her day (which, at present, she wanted to forget), she raised a hand to hush him. “I need a minute,” she muttered, dropping onto the couch.

“Of course,” he said, and ordered the computer to mute the music. On their dining table, he placed the mek’leth alongside a rag and a bottle of polish and took a seat where he had a clear view of her.

Throwing her feet out in front of her, she rested her neck on the curve of the cushions and slouched down. Her neck and shoulders ached—all those hours hunched over her station, followed by the unpleasantness in the cargo bay. And the meeting with Benjamin had put the already stressful day over the top. A massage would be great. Maybe I should call Kira and we could make a spa appointment ... What began as a sigh became a yawn; she closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind of all the distracting flotsam. Her thoughts drifted to Dr. th’Rasdeth, as she suspected would happen frequently in coming weeks during moments when the hectic pace of her life lessened. I’ll just have to stay really busy.

She felt Worf’s eyes noting each time she inhaled and exhaled, making it difficult for her to fully relax. Yes, he was diligently polishing the mek’leth—she heard cloth shimmying over the blade—but he was watching her, waiting. She needed to project the “don’t push me” energy a little more forcefully or he’d wait all night exhibiting the patience of a lIngta’ hunter sitting stock-still in the brush.

In the nearly three years since they’d first met, he’d developed an uncanny knack for drawing information out of her, particularly information she wasn’t in the mood to share. When it comes to interrogation, he’s more Cardassian than Klingon. Of course, under the right circumstances, interrogation by Worf definitely had possibilities ... She smiled drowsily, drifting into a daydream.

He cleared his throat. “I understand you had a meeting with Captain Sisko this afternoon.”

So much for the patience of a Cardassian. She groaned in exasperation and left the couch, crossed over behind Worf, draped her arms around his neck and nuzzled her face in his hair.

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