Double Helix 06_ The First Virtue - Michael Jan Friedman [40]
The proprietress? he wondered.
As she moved closer, Crusher got a better view of the golden eyes and thick, indigo hair, the high cheekbones and the full lips. The female lacked a proper nose and had a set of ears three times the size of a human’s, but he didn’t imagine she would have any problem getting someone to buy her a drink at a star-base lounge.
“Do you have a room reserved or is someone waiting for you?” she asked him and Tuvok.
The commander felt the betraying heat of a blush in his face. He hoped the woman would attribute it to the warmth of her establishment, or perhaps a flush of anticipation at the “comforts” to come.
He didn’t speak immediately, wanting to make certain his voice was under control. And when he did speak, he chose his words carefully.
“We’re here to meet someone,” he said. “I was told that a Melacron named Pudris Barrh enjoyed visiting this establishment.”
The alien smiled. “Oh, I see… you’re one of Barrh’s boys,” she remarked with a knowing lilt.
Barrh’s boys? Crusher asked himself. What did she mean by that? He experienced a moment of alarm but kept his composure.
“If you can get past Old Scowly there,” the female continued, “you can join Barrh at his pleasures if you like.” She raised a long, slender arm and pointed to a gilded door to her right.
Standing guard there was one of the biggest, ugliest, most dangerous-looking humanoids it had ever been the commander’s misfortune to see. The moniker “Old Scowly” seemed more than appropriate. The fellow was three meters tall if he was a centimeter.
He only had two arms, but they were heavily muscled and covered with skin so callused that Crusher wondered if a phaser would do it any damage. Twin sets of horns, one at his temples and one protruding from a mouth crowded with yellow teeth, had been sharpened and decorated with carvings the commander had never seen before.
Small, porcine eyes guttered beneath an overhanging brow ridge as Old Scowly turned his oversized head in their direction. Large, round nostrils flared with a grunting sound.
The commander glanced at Tuvok, whose expression-naturally-had not changed an iota since they entered the establishment. Forcing a grin, Crusher swaggered over to Old Scowly and took the bull by the horns-figuratively speaking, of course.
The commander wondered how they would ever get past such a specimen. With an effort, he banished the thought. After all, failure was not one of their options. Inside that room, at his so-called “pleasures,” was the man they needed to see-and see him they would.
“We’re here to meet with Pudris Barrh,” Crusher told Old Scowly.
The behemoth scowled, his lips writhing in a way the human had never seen before. “I do not know you,” he rumbled, his voice both exceptionally deep and exceptionally ominous.
Crusher continued to smile, undaunted. “But you will know me,” he assured the alien. “You see, I’m here to conduct some mutually profitable business with your employer.”
Expertly he flicked a slip of latinum down from his sleeve into his palm. He was getting pretty good at it, too.
“Extremely profitable,” the commander emphasized.
Old Scowly’s face twisted even more. Crusher would not have thought it possible, but there it was.
The enormous alien straightened to his full, imposing height. “I serve Barrh for reasons other than profit,” he rumbled.
“Really,” said the commander. He wondered what those reasons could be. Loyalty? Fear? Debt? Unable to figure it out, he shrugged and the latinum disappeared again up his sleeve.
“Whatever you say,” he responded casually, “but I still think Barrh would be interested in seeing me.”
The tiny eyes peered at him.
Ensign Tuvok was not pleased.
He had disapproved of his companion’s flamboyant methods from the outset. The Vulcan had accepted the necessity of their charade in deference to Picard, but it seemed to him that Crusher drew far too much attention to himself and their mission.