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Behind him, glaring at the prisoners with his single eye, was the Banyanan. He, too, was armed.

“There!” the commander yelled, his voice high and-he dearly hoped-filled with convincing terror. “The two of them killed each other right in front of our eyes!”

Crusher watched as Old Scowly’s twin knelt beside the bodies. Then he exchanged glances with Tuvok. There was a brief instant when both alien guards took their eyes off the prisoners in their desire to see what had become of Abbis and his friend.

“The Indarrhi’s dead,” snorted the Banyanan. “But the Thallonian doesn’t even look injured.”

A tribute to Tuvok’s skill, the commander thought.

Then he whipped his weapon out and fired it at the Banyanan. At the same time, the Vulcan sprang for Old Scowly’s twin.

Struck squarely in the chest, the Banyanan went flying backward and hit the wall behind him. He was unconscious before he slumped to the floor. Old Scowly’s look-alike took a bit more attention, but in the end Tuvok was able to disable him as well.

Crusher and the Vulcan looked at each other, gratified that their plan had borne fruit. All their differences, it seemed, had been put behind them.

As Tuvok stripped his adversary of his weapon, the commander dropped down at the side of the Banyanan and did the same.

“Two down, a few dozen more to go,” he said.

“Indeed,” was the Vulcan’s only reply.

A few moments later, armed with three directed energy pistols and a couple of sharp, wicked-looking daggers, the Starfleet officers were ready to pursue their escape. Cautiously, Crusher advanced to the door, twisted its archaic-looking metal knob and pushed it open a crack. Then he craned his neck and peered out of the room…

Into the splendid, knowing eyes of the Orion slave girl.

Chapter Fifteen

THE GOLDEN-HUED SHACKLES on the slave girl’s arms and legs gleamed luxuriantly against the rich green of her flesh. Stunned by the sight of her, Crusher couldn’t think of anything to say.

Fortunately, he had the presence of mind to pull the Orion inside the room. Her skin felt warm and supple to the touch-unnervingly so.

“So,” she said in a husky and not unpleasant voice. She took in the sight of the fallen Thallonian and his friend. “It seems you are Federation spies after all. They thought you might be.”

“You …” said the commander, finding his voice again. “You tried to warn us, didn’t you? When you were dancing?”

She tossed her black mane of hair and smiled, pursing her dark, full lips. Crusher was uncomfortably aware of the fact that the girl’s outfit didn’t cover very much.

“Yes,” she said in answer to his question. “But you were too absorbed in your charade to notice.”

The human’s first inclination was to object, but he didn’t think he would get very far. “Yes,” he conceded, “I was.”

“Commander…” said Tuvok.

Crusher held up a hand. His gut was telling him that this girl might be useful. She’d already tried to help them once….

“That was risky,” he said, trying to sound her out. “What you did on the stage, I mean.”

She laughed softly. “Not that risky. No one would suspect me of being intelligent enough to betray my master. I know what we are called, after all… Orion animal women. I also know that in Federation space, the kind of slavery our masters practice is illegal.”

The intensity of her stare was doing something to Crusher’s stomach-and regions slightly lower. The slave girl moved closer to him on her bare feet and gracefully raised her chains to the level of his face.

“I can help you escape,” she said invitingly, whether she had intended that kind of effect or not. “Take me with you. Free me.”

Her eyes, he thought, were pools of obsidian, the kind a man could get lost in forever. And that mouth….

“Commander,” Tuvok repeated, this time in a slightly more forceful tone of voice. “We only have so much time at our disposal.”

“I know,” said Crusher. He regarded the girl. “What’s your name?”

She looked surprised. “I-I don’t have one,” she replied. “The Master simply calls me