Day of Honor 01_ Ancient Blood - Diane Carey [96]
“I will hurt someone!”
From the corridor outside the cell, a voice was there to answer.
“Hurt me.”
The Starfleet team swung full about and found themselves staring down the phasers of Ugulan, Goric, Tyro, Mortash, and four other Rogues whose names Worf had never bothered to learn.
Ugulan stood in the forefront, with an expression of bizarre pleasure on his harsh face. He was getting revenge on Worf, and he liked that. Simple pleasures.
“Search them,” he snarled, drawing each word out twice as long as it needed to be.
Mortified at the arrival of dishonorable Klingons in the presence of his Starfleet crewmates, Worf shuddered and bottled up a surge of insane rage. He hadn’t anticipated this reaction—his stomach heaved as Riker, Crusher, and Data were forced to look into the faces of these bottom feeders. It was one thing to face them alone, but this—
Not yet … not yet …
Tyro, Mortash, Goric, and one other came forward, dividing among the four Starfleeters. They each pulled out a scanning device, far more advanced than most technology on Sindikash, and within seconds they had possession of Crusher’s recording devices—both of them—and Riker’s audio fingernail. Another few seconds’ searching gave up Riker’s video button.
At the same time, Mortash began locating and scooping up their hidden palm phasers. “Starfleet issue,” he said.
“Naturally,” Ugulan agreed. He stepped to Riker and surveyed him up and down. “Who are you?”
Riker lifted his chin and met Ugulan’s glower with an aloof courage. “Kirk. James Kirk.”
Ugulan sneered. “Starfleet?”
“Iowa Regional Militia.” Confused, Ugulan was interrupted as the recording equipment Riker and Crusher had carried was gathered by the Rogues and handed over to him. He immediately rumbled up to Data and surveyed his face disapprovingly.
“What about this one?”
“Nothing on that one,” Tyro said, clearly perplexed. “Why would those two have something and this one have nothing?”
“Is he stupid?” Ugulan suggested, pushing his face close to Data’s. “Or is he here for something else? Well, skinny?”
Data glanced at Worf and tried to lean away from Ugulan, but said nothing.
“Where are you going?” Ugulan’s hand flashed to Data’s throat and dragged him closer. “You can go exactly nowhere. To make sure you go nowhere, I think you need a leash.”
He backed Data up against the wall. At the same instant, Tyro and two other Rogues shoved their phasers into Riker’s ribs and crammed both him and Crusher against the cell’s forward grid.
Worf raised both his arms at the same time, in two directions. He drove his elbow into Mortash’s chin and his other fist into another Klingon’s teeth.
They both went down, but three more Rogues were on him, then suddenly a fourth. A fifth.
And he was held. They wasted no time with him, but instantly pressed him to the cell grid and tied his hands far out at his sides. He strained and yanked, but they had him.
And they had Riker and Crusher pinned on the other side of the front grid. He knew what was happening—they were being positioned as an audience.
Ugulan humphed in satisfaction and turned again to Data, then made a sharp gesture that brought Mortash and Goric to his sides, with a cord.
This cord was braided, and evidently this time they didn’t care whether appearances implied that the rope had come from somewhere inside the cell. Their confidence was peaking. They believed they couldn’t be caught, for their only real threats were now at their phaserpoints.
Ugulan tugged at Data’s neckerchief until it came off. He stuffed it into his belt. Mortash and Goric clasped Data’s arms while Ugulan slipped a noose around Data’s neck, then tossed the other end through the metal ceiling grid.
“No!” Crusher shouted. She tried to bolt forward, and endured a fierce throttling until she fell back. Riker tried to protect her, and fielded a vicious slug.
Worf quaked and wanted to roar, but he knew that would only encourage Ugulan. He could only watch, as he was meant to, as the noose tightened around Data’s throat. Data slipped