Captain's Table 02_ Dujonian's Hoard - Michael Jan Friedman [7]
“And the third?” the Rythrian inquired.
Robinson’s features took on a decidedly harder line. “She died not at all,” he said.
But he didn’t go on to say how that could be, or what effect it had on him. And since no one else pressed the man for an explanation, Picard thought it best to keep silent as well.
Robinson turned his gaze on Bo’tex again, obviously not done with him. “And what of you, sir? Is it possible any female could stand the unwholesome smell of you?”
Bo’tex smiled a greasy smile. “I’m not smelly at all at least, not to other Caxtonians. In fact,” he went on, waxing poetic, “my full-bodied scent is actually a pheromone bouquet unequaled on my homeworld. I’ve often got to fight females off with a stick.”
Dravvin closed his eyes. “Somehow, I’m having difficulty conjuring that image in my mind.”
“You’re not the only one,” said Flenarrh.
Hompaq spoke up. “I once had a lover,” she growled.
“Oh?” said the Rythrian. “What happened to him?”
The Klingon grinned fondly, showing her fanglike incisors. “I had to gut him, the mangy targ. But he’ll always live in my heart.”
Dravvin rolled his eyes. “Delightful.”
Hompaq eyed the Rythrian with undisguised ferocity. “You mock me?” she rasped, challenging him.
Dravvin was unflustered. “Me?” he said dryly. “Mock you?”
It wasn’t exactly an answer. However, it served the purpose of keeping the Klingon in her chair while she pondered it.
Suddenly, a half-empty mug of ale slammed down on the table, causing it to shudder. Picard turned to see its owner a short, stocky alien with mottled, gray skin and tiny, red eyes. The fellow leaned in among them, between Bo’tex and Robinson.
“Kuukervol,” Flenarrh sighed.
“That’s right,” said the newcomer, who seemed more than a little drunk though not so much so he hadn’t caught the gist of their conversation. “Kuukervol, indeed. And I’ve got a story that’ll make the heartiest of you quiver and the weakest of you weep for mercy a tale of blood and thunder and love so powerful you can only dream about it.”
The assembled captains exchanged glances. Picard noted a certain amount of skepticism in their expressions.
“He was on his way to Rimbona IV …” Hompaq growled.
“… minding his own business,” Bo’tex continued, “when he ran into a Traynor Disturbance. Level one, perhaps a little more.”
“Enough to rattle my sensor relays!” Kuukervol protested.
“And necessitate repairs,” Dravvin amplified.
“There he was,” said Hompaq. “Blind on his port side, vulnerable to enemy attack and the vagaries of space …”
“… except he had no enemies,” Bo’tex noted, “and he’d already stumbled on the only real vagary in the sector. Nonetheless …”
“… I hurried desperately to make repairs,” Kuukervol pointed out, “when who should show up but …”
“… a Phrenalian passenger transport,” Dravvin added. “And lo and behold, it was headed for Rimbona IV just as he was.”
“Of course,” Hompaq said, “it wasn’t going to stop for him.”
“It was full!” Kuukervol declared. “Full to bursting!”
“So it was,” Dravvin conceded. “Which is why it could rescue neither our friend nor his crew. However, its commander promised he would alert the Rimbonan authorities to Captain Kuukervol’s plight.”
“Which he did,” said Robinson.
“And they would have arrived just in the nick of time,” Bo’tex gibed eagerly, “had they seen any reason to effect a timely rescue or indeed, effect a rescue at all.”
“Unfortunately,” Dravvin went on, “there was no discernible danger to ship or crew.”
“No discernible danger,” Kuukervol emphasized. “But the undiscernible lurked all around us!”
“Under which circumstances,” said Flenarrh, “Captain Kuukervol and his courageous crew had no choice but to take matters in their own hands and repair their sensor relays on their own.”
“At which point,” Hompaq chuckled, “they went on to Rimbona