Day of Honor 01_ Ancient Blood - Diane Carey [97]
“Not again!” Riker shouted. “Isn’t Grant enough for you in one day? You can’t do that to him!”
“No?” Ugulan shook his head. “Are you sure? Is it ‘inhuman’?”
He heaved harder. Data’s feet toed at the floor as he was hoisted beyond reach. He kicked frantically, trying to knock Ugulan away from the rope, but there was no doing it.
His kicking made his body jerk back and forth in a corkscrew motion. His fingers dug at the cord around his neck. He expelled breath after breath, but could suck none in.
“See what happens to someone who fails to gain our trust?” Ugulan said. “All of you will follow Skinny, and we will have more entertainment with each of you until we get to the traitor.”
Worf gritted his teeth and felt his lips peel back at Ugulan’s glance.
Halfway to the ceiling now, Data kicked more frantically, forcing Mortash and Goric to step away from the flailing boots. Data’s throat gurgled and gagged, and the terrible sounds washed through the cell, torturing his shipmates and delighting the Rogues.
Disgusted, Worf took in a shiver of shame that they were so completely enjoying themselves, and understood that this was part of the reason they stayed with Odette Khanty. Not just the power or the promise of influence, but the bloodlust.
Hideous. Inexcusable. His sudden distaste surprised him, for it extended not just to these particular bandits, but to all Klingons, for it was giving in to their Klingon nature that made them so sadistic. Suddenly he wanted nothing to do with them. He wanted nothing in common with them. He did not want even to look like them.
And he wanted to rush back to the ship and yank Alexander out of that Day of Honor ritual. His shame itched all over his body.
He realized his eyes were fixed on Data again—just in the last second. Just in time to hear Data gag out one whimpering gasp and see him finally fall limp. His eyes lost focus, and glazed over.
“Oh, no … oh, no,” Beverly Crusher moaned, and sank to her knees.
Riker drove his shoulder into Tyro’s chest, but was hammered back by Mortash’s enormous fists. When Riker recovered and looked slowly up again, his lip was bleeding, and his cheekbone bore a purpling bruise.
Worf lashed out a foot at Ugulan, but the Rogue easily sidestepped. Ugulan teased him with a laugh, and pointed at Data’s sagging body.
“The other one took longer,” he crowed, swinging his gesture around to where Grant’s sorry corpse lay on the floor. “This one is even more of a child, to go so fast. This one’s not drooling. I like it when they drool.”
“Pig!” Worf snarled. “Coward!”
“Yes,” Ugulan said. He turned to Riker and Crusher, as if trying to choose who would be next.
Breath came and went in heaves from Worf’s chest. Had he timed things wrong? Had he miscalculated? A few minutes would be critical.
Seconds began to tick by as Ugulan measured Riker and Crusher on his enjoyment meter. Would a woman be more fun to torture? Or would it be more fun to watch a woman’s reaction as a handsome man like Riker was tortured?
Worf knew he was meant to see the deaths of all his friends before he, too, would have his skin peeled off.
Before Ugulan could make his choice, a commotion at the end of the dark corridor drew the attention of all, and in strode Odette Khanty with two more Rogues in attendance.
That made … ten.
Mrs. Khanty strode into the cell as easily as a woman entering church. She wore a salmon-colored business suit with a Sindikash embroidered silk scarf at her collar, and she looked entirely out of place among the rampart of Rogues around her. On her arm was a black armband with a noticeable purple orchid—a real one—affixed to it, and she wore a polite black velvet hat with a lace swirl of some kind. Mourning garb. Just enough to remind everyone who saw her.
Without saying a word, she