Death in Winter - Michael Jan Friedman [100]
The centurion, who had been reeling already as a result of the captain’s other blows, took this one on the point of the chin. He staggered for a moment, eyes rolling back in his head, then collapsed.
Finally, Picard thought.
Pouncing on the disruptor the centurion had dropped, he looked around. The battle had moved away from him for the moment, leaving him alone in the falling snow.
And giving him a chance to go after Beverly.
Shielding his eyes, the captain approached the gully into which Beverly had vanished, but couldn’t discern anyone down there. Yet he was certain that Beverly and Sela had fallen that way. So with his borrowed weapon in hand he hastened down the incline, hoping he wasn’t too late.
He had almost reached the bottom when he saw two figures lying there, either dead or unconscious. Then he noticed two others just beyond them, still on their feet-and facing each other.
One was a centurion, a disruptor pistol in his hand. And the other… was Beverly.
Picard felt a pang as he saw her, her hair flying free from the confines of her Kevratan hood. But he didn’t dare call to her lest he alert the centurion.
Slowing his descent, he got within thirty meters of them-the maximum effective range of a disruptor. Then he stopped, took aim, and squeezed off a beam.
It went straight and unerringly to its mark. Or rather, where its mark had been.
Unfortunately, the centurion chose that moment to move forward and strike Beverly-effectively removing himself from the line of fire, and leaving the energy bolt to bury itself in the snow.
Instantly, Beverly’s captor turned in Picard’s direction. Before the captain could get off another shot, the centurion grabbed the doctor and used her for a shield. Then he put his disruptor to her head.
“Drop your weapon,” he snapped, his voice audible even over the hiss of the wind, “or I will kill her!”
Picard knew that once he was unarmed, the Romulan would destroy him. But he had no choice. He couldn’t roll the dice with Beverly’s life at stake.
“All right,” he said, “I am dropping it. See?” And he let the disruptor fall to the snow-covered ground.
“Step away from it,” said the centurion.
His teeth clenched, the captain stepped away.
As he had predicted, the centurion’s weapon swung in his direction. A smile spread across the bastard’s face. He had Picard exactly where he wanted him.
But in the same moment, Beverly made a motion with her hand. Nothing too overt-just enough to let the captain know that something was coming.
He had known Beverly a long time. He knew what she would do as surely as he knew his name. And he knew also that the opening she gave him would only be a brief one.
Without warning, she grimaced and pumped her elbow into her captor’s ribs. As the Romulan folded in pain, Picard dove for his weapon and came up firing.
By then, Beverly had freed herself, and there was nothing to protect the centurion. The captain’s blast struck him in the shoulder, spinning him about.
Even then, the Romulan managed to get off a shot of his own. His beam cut a hot, steaming path in the snow, coming within a meter of Picard’s elbow.
Refusing to give his adversary a second chance, the captain took more careful aim this time-and struck the centurion squarely in the chest, driving him backward head over heels.
Warily, Picard got up and regarded his enemy. However, it was clear that the centurion was unconscious, his eyes rolled back in his head.
Half-running, half-sliding, the captain covered the distance to Beverly in a heartbeat. Then, separated from her by mere centimeters, he drank in the sight of her.
In truth, she had looked more composed. There was a dark swelling under one eye and blood in the corner of her mouth. However, she had never seemed more appealing to him.
Folding her into his arms, he felt her slump against him, battered and exhausted and not embarrassed to show it. “By now,” she rasped, “you should know I don’t need rescuing.”
He couldn’t help smiling at the