Oblivion - Michael Jan Friedman [58]
And for all he knew, there might be more Cardassians on their way. With that thought spurring him on, he drove his fist into his enemy’s face, sending him staggering.
But by then, the Cardassian quartet had caught up with him, as evidenced by a hard-driven shoulder in the small of his back. It propelled him forward, slamming him face-first into the wall of an empty shop.
Picard tasted blood, but didn’t let it slow him down. Swinging his elbow back as hard as he could, he struck his attacker in the mouth. And as the Cardassian let go of him, he reached into his tunic for his phaser.
But as he pulled it out, another adversary sent him spinning with a blow to the jaw. By the time the captain regained his equilibrium, his weapon was gone. And there wasn’t any time to look for it, because the Cardassian who had hit him was coming at him again.
But Picard had no intention of becoming the fellow’s punching bag. Rocking back on one foot, he lashed out with his other one and caught his attacker in the throat.
Uttering a strangled cry, the Cardassian collapsed, giving Picard some hope of escape. But it was dashed when another Cardassian crashed into him and bore him to the deck.
Twisting in his assailant’s grasp, Picard struck him in the face. Unfortunately, it didn’t make the Cardassian let go. If anything, it made him hold on to the captain more tenaciously. And a moment later, another Cardassian grabbed the wrist that had launched the blow.
Picard did his best to defend himself with the single hand left to him, but it didn’t work very well. Before too long, someone shot a bolt of pain into his ribs with a well-placed kick, and then another and another.
Then he was dragged across the floor. Into one of the empty storefronts, no doubt.
By then he was on the verge of losing consciousness. But just as he began to sink into a swirling darkness, he felt himself lifted by the front of his tunic.
“Look at me,” someone growled, and shook him.
Opening his eyes, Picard saw a face swimming in front of him. There was no question in his mind that this was the Cardassians’ leader. The captain could see it in the angle of his jaw, in his bearing, in every aspect of his appearance.
He was clearly an individual to be reckoned with. And at the moment, with a trio of armed subordinates standing behind him, he held all the cards.
“Your name is Picard,” he said.
The captain neither confirmed it nor denied it. But inwardly, he acknowledged the efficacy of his adversary’s intelligence systems.
“Where is Demmix?” the Cardassian asked, in a surprisingly reasonable tone of voice.
Picard’s jaw clenched. “I wish I knew.”
The Cardassian considered him for a moment, as if Picard were some new species of fauna. Then he struck the human with his fist, snapping Picard’s head back.
“I’ll ask again,” he said. “Where is Demmix?”
The captain spat out the blood he felt welling in his mouth. “I don’t know. And your striking me is not going to make me any more knowledgeable.”
The Cardassian eyed him. “Maybe not. Maybe this is an exercise in futility.”
Then he bludgeoned Picard again, driving bone into bone with agonizing results.
“On the other hand,” the Cardassian added, “I have nothing to lose by continuing it…do I?”
Once more, he pulled his fist back. But before he could make use of it to punish Picard, the captain thought of a more desirable alternative.
“Wait!” he cried out.
The Cardassian held back, his eyes narrowing. “You have something to say after all?”
The captain drew a deep, shuddering breath. “Hear me out—please. I honestly do not know where Demmix is hiding.”
His interrogator sighed and struck him again, opening a fiery cut beneath his eye.
“But,” Picard continued, knowing full well the significance of what he was about to say, “my companion knows.”
“Your companion?” Tain echoed. “You mean the one the authorities caught a moment ago?”
The captain nodded. “Yes. Her name is…Guinan.”
For maybe the fiftieth time that night, Nikolas