No Surrender - Jeff Mariotte [13]
Corsi replied, “I hear you, sir. But if we’ve restored the necessary systems and prevented the station from dropping out of orbit, aren’t we finished? Can’t we all just be beamed back to the ship?”
“No,” Dr. Lense’s voice broke in. “There are most certainly large numbers of injuries on this station. We went through the infirmary, and it was deserted. Whether we treat the injuries here or there doesn’t matter, but we need to provide medical assistance.”
“To a bunch of murderers and thieves?” Corsi asked. “They’re criminals, we’re not allowing them aboard the da Vinci.”
“They’re sentient beings,” Lense countered. “They’re entitled to treatment.”
“Not everyone on the Plat is a prisoner, Commander Corsi,” Gold said tersely. “Kindly keep that in mind.”
“Yes, sir,” Corsi said quickly.
“I’ll relay the news to the Kursican authorities and ask for medical personnel from there,” Gold said. “Though it’ll probably take them a while to get to the station. In the meantime, be very careful with those prisoners. And if it looks like things are turning ugly, let us know and we’ll beam you out immediately.”
“Yes, sir,” Corsi said.
Gold turned back to Ina. “Keep a close eye on them.”
“We’ll start making our way toward you, Corsi,” Gomez said. Corsi and her team had opened the face-plates on their helmets to preserve the suits’ air supply. The only drawback was that the air circulation system didn’t seem to work very well—the station smelled rank, stale, and close.
“I don’t think you should do that, Commander.”
“If you’re about to encounter a few hundred murderers and thieves, as you call them, you might need some extra hands.”
“And some extra guns,” Corsi said. She and her part of the away team were making their way back toward the Operations Center, traveling along a corridor that they had previously covered every way but upright. “But if we’re supposed to treat the injured, it wouldn’t do to injure more of them, would it?” she added, shooting an annoyed look at Lense.
“In self-defense, Domenica, of course we would fire upon them,” Lense said with a sigh. “But not if they aren’t threatening us.”
“Do you think maybe they’ve been baking cookies for us
“Most likely they’re injured,” Gomez’s voice said. “But like the captain said, be careful and assume they’re dangerous.”
“I have them on my tricorder,” Corsi said. “Looks like about two hundred life-forms. They’re in the corridor that intersects this one, twenty meters from our position.”
“Is there anyplace you can hide?” Gomez asked.
Corsi looked around. The last hatchway, into the infirmary, was a dozen meters back. “No place we can reach in time.”
“Do what you have to do, then,” Gomez said.
“Phasers ready,” Corsi told her group. Frnats, Drew, and Fabian complied immediately. Lense didn’t draw her weapon.
“On stun, I hope,” the doctor said.
“Of course,” Corsi replied. That was SOP.
Now they could hear the group of prisoners coming—the footfalls of hundreds, the rustle of fabric, the scrape of hands and shoulders along the walls. Corsi pressed herself against the corridor wall, for what little good that would do her in a firefight. Behind her, the others did the same. All of them—even Lense now, she was pleased to note—had phasers drawn and pointed toward the intersection.
For a split second, she regretted having told Gomez not to come to their aid. But against a couple hundred foes, what could five more do? Better to lean on their own abilities, and the knowledge that the da Vinci could whisk them away if things got out of hand.
Then there was no more time for second-guessing. The first of them rounded the corner and spotted them right off. The prisoners were a diverse mixture of races—a handful of humans, more Kursicans, numerous Szylithans, and various others. She recognized an Andorian, which surprised her way out here, and a handful of Klingons, one Breen, and some not so familiar.
The prisoners saw the phasers pointing at them and came to a stop. From behind, more came, jostling those in front. Corsi didn’t know what to expect—she saw no weapons,