Pathways - Jeri Taylor [159]
• • •
“Where are they? Tell me where they are, you moldering pile of fecal matter, or I’m going to roast you alive! I swear I will!”
Neelix held his hands around Wix’s throat, driven by outrage, shaking his partner with a fury that fed itself and mounted still higher. Wix struggled in his grip, trying to loose the hands that were tightening on his trachea, but he was unable to pry off even a finger. Neelix’s ferocity gave him inconceivable strength, and it wouldn’t be long before Wix blacked out.
Wix pointed toward the weapons locker of the ship, and Neelix’s response was instantaneous. He released his grip and dashed to the locker, threw it open, and began rummaging through it in a frenzy, throwing out weapons and ammunition in his hunt.
When the locker was empty and he realized he’d been tricked, he whirled on Wix, who was standing at a distance with an electrokinetic pistol pointed at him.
“You’ve got to stop using the crystals, Neelix. We can’t keep going through this.”
“You tricked me! You unmitigated piece of slime! I’m going to kill you!”
“I’m trying to help you. The crystals are destroying you.”
Neelix’s eyes narrowed and he stared at Wix with unconcealed indignation. “I know why you’re saying that. You want them for yourself.”
“Neelix—”
“I’m hardly being destroyed. The crystals are no problem to me. You’re inventing that so you can hoard them all yourself. Well, I’m too clever for you, Wix. And I intend to find your cache.”
The weariness in Wix’s voice was evident. “There’s no cache, Neelix. We don’t have any crystals left. You’ve inhaled them all.”
“Liar!” Neelix’s ferocity returned twelvefold. Did Wix think he was a blind fool? A naive child? It was perfectly clear to him what his supposed friend was up to, and he deeply resented the thought that Wix believed he could be so easily fooled. He flung himself toward Wix in a frenzy, saw the weapon raised, heard the distinctive buzz of an energy discharge, and then blackness enveloped him.
• • •
He ached. Every muscle in his body felt as though it had been shredded with a hasp. His whole body hurt except for his feet, which he couldn’t feel at all.
He tried to turn over, to see if that would alleviate the stiffness, but found that he couldn’t. He opened his eyes to discover the reason for this immobility, and realized he was bound at the wrists and the ankles, tied to his bunk in the ship he and Wix had stolen from the Wellyump. It had been a sorry piece of trash, to be sure, but Wix knew that although it looked like a rusting chunk of space flotsam, its engines were sound. They had restored a portion of the exterior and were eagerly making plans for their salvage business. Then what?
Ah. Wix had hidden the last of the crystals and tried to convince Neelix there were no more. Treachery and betrayal. And now, what was this crude imprisonment? What was happening to him?
He looked around the cramped quarters and saw Wix sitting nearby, staring balefully at him. “I’m sorry, Neelix. But I had no choice. You were out of your mind.”
Neelix stared at him, uncomprehending. What was he talking about? Why had he tied Neelix up? Nothing made sense to him, none of these ever more preposterous events. Why was Wix behaving in this bizarre fashion, turning on him, making ridiculous accusations, and now holding him captive—
Then he realized with awful clarity what a serious predicament he was in. Wix was crazy. He wasn’t the friendly, easygoing scamp he pretended to be, that was all a ruse, a façade created to draw in unsuspecting strangers like Neelix. How could he have let himself be fooled like that? And how dangerous, exactly, was Wix?
He looked at the man sitting on the stool near the door. He was good, Neelix granted him that. He appeared to be genuinely concerned, brow furrowed and shoulders slumped, but of course that was part of the ruse. In fact, this man had no real hold on reality, had slipped into some