• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

“Don’t worry, sir,” Ben Zoma chuckled hi his ear. “I’ll bring your remains back to the ship.”

Picard turned to him. “How thoughtful of you.”

“I try to please,” said the first officer. “Besides, I’ve always wanted to be Captain Ben Zoma.”

Picard grunted. “I suspected as much.”

Taking a deep breath, he stood and pulled down on the front of his tunic. Then he confronted the members of the Kellasian Congress with all the dignity and humility he could muster, and he tried not to think about how much his executive officer was enjoying his discomfort.

Gradually, as the captain stood there, the applause gave way to a respectful silence. Picard cleared his throat.

“I accept your gratitude,” he said, “on behalf of all those under my command who helped to stop Gerrid Thul and stymie his grand ambition. Prominent among them were Commander Jack Crusher, my second officer, and Ensign Tuvok, on loan to us from the Starship Wyoming.”

Again, cheers erupted from hundreds of alien throats. And again, they died down in time.

“However,” the captain continued, “I am told-and I must take my colleagues’ word for it, because I was not there-there was another who played a critical role in this effort… someone who had nothing to do with the Federation or the Melacron or the Cordracites, yet contributed nothing less than her life to seeing peace restored to them.”

He paused, noting the intrigue expressed in the faces of his audience, and recalled what Crusher and Tuvok had told him of this person. “Her name,” he said with due regard, “was Grace…”

Bin Nedrach was thirsty.

After all, the sun was hot on Melacron II. And as good as its rays felt on one’s naked skin, they had a tendency to dry one out.

Fortunately, there was no shortage of beverages on Melacron II-especially for a man with latinum. And thanks to his recent labors, Bin Nedrach possessed a great deal of latinum.

Suddenly, he felt a band of cool shadow cross his chest. “Ah,” he said, “you’re just in time. I was getting thirsty.”

It was no secret that Sulkoh Island had the most attractive female attendants on the planet, if not in the entire Melacron system. In the last couple of days, Bin Nedrach had discovered that they were alert as well. Whenever he even thought of needing a drink or a warm-oil rubdown, they were there at his side.

It was almost as if they were mind-readers, like that Indarrhi who had dogged Mendan Abbis’s tracks. He shuddered at the memory. From now on, he vowed, he would steer clear of mind-readers.

“I’ll have another Sulkoh Sunset,” he said.

“I beg to differ with you,” a decidedly masculine, decidedly un-Melacronai voice responded.

In a heartbeat, Bin Nedrach was on his feet, assessing his situation, deciding which of the many unarmed combat maneuvers that he had mastered would allow him to escape his predicament. Unfortunately, none of them seemed to fit the bill.

“Go ahead,” said a human Starfleet officer, one of four who stood with their hand weapons trained on the assassin. “Try to get away. This phaser may only be set for stun, but it’s got a kick like a Missouri mule.”

“If I were you,” said the only Vulcan in the group-the one who had roused Bin Nedrach in the first place-“I would surrender. My colleague’s assessment is as accurate as it is colorful.”

“Don’t badger him, Tuvok,” said the human. “He’s a grown assassin. Let him make up his own mind.”

“Very well,” the Vulcan replied with an air of resignation. “You are the ranking officer here.”

Bin Nedrach glanced about. To his back was the pool, to his left the featureless, white wall of the indoor recreation center. Neither direction was an option. That left the areas directly in front and to the right of him, both of which were blocked off by the Starfleet people.

The Melacron knew what would happen to him if he were put on trial. The G’aha of Laws and Enforcements had been an exceedingly popular figure-and Bin Nedrach had cut the fellow down while he was inspecting an Inseeing scarf. Without question, he