Death in Winter - Michael Jan Friedman [95]
Beverly? he thought.
But it wasn’t just a single Kevrata who accompanied her. It was a line of them. And the more Picard studied them, the more it seemed to him they weren’t Kevrata at all….
“Centurions,” said Hanafaejas, who could see better in the storm than a human could. “Ten of them, maybe more.”
Picard looked around and saw silhouettes behind them as well. In fact, they were closing in from every direction.
“We’re surrounded,” Joseph observed.
“Lay down your arms!” a feminine voice called out. “Otherwise, you will be destroyed!”
A moment later, Picard saw the one who had issued the ultimatum. Even if she hadn’t distinguished herself from the other Romulans, he could have picked out her face across the span of a thousand snow-blown fields.
After all, he had loved it the way a father loves a daughter, and mourned it to the same degree when death claimed it. And when, years later, he saw it twisted with hatred and resentment in the trappings of a Romulan commander, part of him had recoiled in shock and disbelief-but another part had been grateful for the chance to bask again in Tasha’s light.
“Sela,” said Decalon.
She wants us alive, the captain thought. But then, they were more valuable that way-both to the Empire and to Sela herself.
Picard had no intention of surrendering. But before he could give the order to fire, the rebels beat him to it.
Their disruptor beams sliced through the falling snow, jackknifing a few centurions. But the others returned the favor without mercy, catching the captain and his comrades in a deadly, pale green crossfire.
Picard and his team fired as well, though it was difficult to see well enough to hit anyone. Fortunately the rebels didn’t have that problem, striking almost every target they aimed for.
Sela still had the numerically superior force. However, if she waited long enough, that would no longer be the case. Anticipating her next move, Picard said, “Watch for a charge.”
Right on cue, a wave of centurions came hurtling toward them. The captain fired into their midst, as did his comrades. But enough of the enemy got through to make it a hand-to-hand fight, in which the Romulans couldn’t help but have the edge.
Ducking a punch that would have caved his skull in, Picard drove his elbow into his attacker’s chest. Then he fired at a second one, sending him sprawling in the snow.
A third adversary fell short, stopped by someone else’s disruptor beam. However a fourth one, only half-glimpsed, managed to hammer the captain from behind.
The impact numbed his shoulder and drove him to all fours, but he still had a grip on his weapon. Pivoting on his knee, he leveled a blast in what he believed was the right direction.
Unfortunately, the centurion was gone by then. And before Picard could regroup, another one hit him from the side.
Together they tumbled in the snow, a mess of arms and legs, but it was the Romulan who wound up on top. Drawing his fist back, he drove it into the captain’s face. Then he did it again.
And again.
Picard was close to losing consciousness, the taste of blood strong in his mouth, his holoprojector disabled. But while the centurion was pummeling him he had been groping for his weapon, which had spilled out of his hand into the snow.
And now he had found it.
Pressing it against his adversary’s side, he pulled the trigger and catapulted the centurion away. But as dazed as he was, it took him a moment to gather himself, to get his feet underneath him.
As it turned out, a moment was too long.
Still on one knee, he felt something hit him in the jaw, rattling his head about. Unable to stop himself, he slumped to the ground. As he looked up through swimming senses, he saw who had hit him-and who was standing over him now, her weapon leveled at him.
“Sela,” he breathed.
She didn’t say anything. She just smiled, as if this were revenge for the schemes he had foiled and the humiliation he had cost her. And in that smile, there was nothing of Tasha.
My luck has run out, he thought. There would be no escape this time, no last-second