Seven of Nine - Christie Golden [64]
Tamaak blinked, started at the thoughts Imraak sent. If we are separated, you will die. He tried and failed to cloak his imagination's depiction of just how Imraak would die.
Then my life will be ended, but our revenge will be won. Would that all decisions were this simple, this pure.
And then Imraak was gone, threading his way through the crowd, pausing just long enough to make certain the Emperor's assassin had been able to catch a clear glimpse. Shemaak and Tamaak watched for a moment, caught in horrified fascination. Then some 203 thing broke in Tamaak and he pushed his companion forward.
Go! Do not let his sacrifice be in vain!
Imraak pushed his way through the crowds, heedless of the yelps and cries of annoyance and anger at his brusque manner. Now and then he craned his head back on his slender neck, just to make certain that the Ku had not lost sight of him. He needn't have worried. The giant insect sped along on six legs, entirely focused on the fleeing Skedan.
For a moment, Imraak wavered, although his feet did not slow. Had Tamaak been right? Had what he had tried to do to Seven of Nine been wrong.?
Regardless, surely the Borg would be happy to see him now, fleeing yet not fleeing, trying to elude capture while all the time hoping for it.
I hope you learn of my death, somehow, he thought grimly. He had automatically directed his thoughts toward her, although he knew she would not be able to sense him from the distance of her vessel. Imraak was shocked and almost lost his footing when his thoughts brushed Seven's mind.
She was here. On the planet. No doubt in search of them. Any thoughts of remorse he might have had fled, drowned in a red tide of anger and panic. He was about to die for what he believed in, and she was here, with her accursed Borg implants, and she was trying to stop them.
He was about to concentrate his thoughts to send a final, murderous message-who cared now if Janeway discovered who had killed her pet Borg?-when agony rippled along his spine and he fell, hard. His nerves were jangled and he couldn't even lift his arm to break his fall.
In fact, he couldn't move at all. He was another victim of the Ku and their feared weapon, which paralyzed their prey until the time had come for their ritual of dismemberment Imraak stared wildly up at the insect as it bent over him. He could do nothing to harm his captor, but he could do something for himself. He had led the danger away from Tamaak and the precious weapon.
Now, he could concentrate on mitigating his own pain.
He turned his thoughts inward, even as he felt himself being lifted as if he weighed nothing at all. He visualized his heart, beating rapidly with fear and exertion, and then he could actually see it.
Slow. Slow. Slow down, heart. Do not pump the warm blood that the Ku so despise. It is time for rest.
You have beaten steadily every day of my life, but now, slow.
Slow.
Slow.
Stop.
SEVEN of NINE, HER BLUE-MD GAZE FLICKERING FROM the tricorder to the streets ahead of her, strode as briskly as she could toward the Central Octagon. The Skedans were directly ahead. As she watched, one of them veered off in another direction. Frowning, Seven did a quick readjustment to the tricorder so that it picked up on the energy emanating from the Skedan's weapon.
The one who had left the group did not have the weapon. Seven dismissed him and continued following the remaining two.
Her eyes were on the instruments when she collided with something hard, that did not yield like the soft flesh of other beings she had hitherto encountered.
Irritated, she glanced up.
And found herself staring into the multifaceted eyes of one of the Ku.
Species 13. Known among themselves as the Tuktak.
Insectoid, able to adjust the density of their exoskeleton to comply with various environments. Hostile and intelligent.
Its antennae waved frantically and it emanated a bad scent. Seven tried not to wrinkle