Death in Winter - Michael Jan Friedman [96]
He had come to Kevratas to keep others from dying. But in the end, it was he who would perish. Ironic, isn’t it? Steeling himself, he awaited the fatal impact.
Then something happened-a fur-clad body striking suddenly and unexpectedly, with an audible thud-and Sela, tangled with the newcomer, went tumbling down a steep, white incline into a gully.
It was a full second later, as Picard replayed the event in his mind, that he recognized the red-gold hair spilling from his savior’s hood.
Beverly… he thought.
Braeg was so intent on firing across Victory Square at Tal’aura’s outflanked centurions that he didn’t give any thought to the shadow passing over him.
After all, what could it it be but a cloud? Then it slid into his field of vision and he saw it for what it was-a type-six military hovercraft equipped with long-range disruptor cannons.
But, Braeg thought helplessly, there aren’t supposed to be any military hovercraft on Romulus. In fact, there were laws specifically prohibiting them, enacted hundreds of years earlier.
Yet there it was. A well-kept secret, no doubt built in anticipation of just such an eventuality.
And it wasn’t alone-because Braeg saw two more hovercraft wafting in pursuit of the first, and a moment later he realized there was a fourth one.
They stopped over the square in what the admiral now saw was a diamond-shaped formation, and spit fiery beams of disruptor energy into the corners where Braeg’s men had positioned themselves. Suddenly the tide of battle began to turn, and not at all in Braeg’s favor.
He cursed as he watched his men die, skewered on the ends of thick green energy bolts. They lashed back at the hovercraft, but to no avail. Their hand weapons didn’t have enough power to be effective at that distance.
Nor was it only his men who were perishing. So were the citizens caught in the middle of the square. Those inside the hovercraft didn’t seem to care who they were cutting down.
Braeg needed to do something before it was too late. But what could he do? He hadn’t planned for this. And he didn’t yet have Donatra’s warbirds to back him up.
I’m a strategist, he insisted. If there’s a way out, I can find it. I must find it.
But in the end, he saw there was only one strategy left to him, only one tactical maneuver he could use to stop the bloodshed.
And only Braeg could execute it.
Beverly hadn’t thought about it. There wasn’t time.
She had seen Jean-Luc lying on the ground at the mercy of Sela’s disruptor and her instincts had taken over, sending her flying through the storm to plant her shoulder in Sela’s side.
Then her momentum had carried them into this snow-filled gully, where each of them was now struggling to rise to her feet before her adversary could do the same.
Beverly won that battle. Still, she had barely braced herself before Sela fired a naked fist at her, both her weapon and her glove buried somewhere in the snow. The doctor managed to elude the attack, but lost her balance in the process.
So when Sela shot a boot at her, she couldn’t ward it off. It hit her squarely in her half-healed shoulder, sending needles of fire through it and forcing a groan from Beverly’s lips.
Smiling, Sela went after the same spot again. And though Beverly was ready this time, the attack struck bone nonetheless.
Go on the offensive, the doctor urged herself. Otherwise, Sela would hammer that wound all day.
Feinting with her left hand, she drove hard with her right. But Sela’s response was lightning-quick, deflecting Beverly’s assault. And without hesitation, she answered it with one of her own.
Dancing backward, the doctor avoided the first blow. But the second caught her in the jaw, dumping her unceremoniously in the snow. She tried to recover, to get her legs underneath her, but Sela followed with a roundhouse kick to the head.
Dazed, Beverly looked up at the Romulan. Sela just stood there, a smirk of triumph on her face.
“You can’t win,” she said, her voice like a whip. “You’re weak, like the rest of your Federation. Like my mother.”
Beverly felt a gobbet of