Star Trek_ Generations - J M. Dillard [40]
Data! he called, sotto voce. See if you can get to Geordi!
The android looked up, golden eyes wide with terror.
I … cannot, sir. I believe I am … afraid.
Riker stared at him, at a loss, then tensed as, inside the room, a communicator beeped shrilly. At the sound, Soran leaned down to scoop up the unconscious Geordi by the collar. Riker heard the hum of a transporter beam and watched in surprise and frustration as the two dematerialized.
He hit his comm badge and said, with a sense of defeat, Transporter room. Three to beam up.
A minute earlier on the Enterprise bridge, Picard was drawn away from the sight on the viewscreena dark, roiling shock wave, headed straight for the Amargosa Observatory, ruby the sound of an alarm on the tactical console. He faced Hayes just as the young ensign was swiveling toward him.
Sir. Hayess eyes were wide, his tone urgent. A Klingon Bird-of-Prey is decloaking off the port bow.
What? Picard wheeled back toward the screen, to stare at the dying starjust as the Bird-of-Prey wavered into view on the observatorys far side.
Its an old Class D-twelve, sir, Hayes said.
Those were retired a decade or so ago, Picard murmured. This particular one looked like it should have stood down two decades earlier; the hull bore a hundred different hastily patched battle scars. To Hayes, he said, Have they activated their weapons systems?
No, sir.
Then lets Picard began.
Transporter room to bridge. I have the away team aboard, sir.
Wasting no time, Picard turned to the con. Helm, warp one. Engage …
The Enterprise sailed away as, on the viewscreen, the observatory dissolved into rapidly dimming flame.
Fueled by nova-bright rage, Soran made his way through dark, claustrophobic corridors, ducking to avoid overhanging cables, recoiling at the grime-smeared bulkheads, the sticky deck. The aging ship groaned and shuddered unceasinglyand stunk of warm, wet animal, making him long for the pristine, silent corridors of the Enterprise.
No matter. None of it mattered, none of it was realat least, not to himand the unpleasantness with the Duras sisters would soon be over, and forgotten eternally.
He emerged at last onto the dimly lit bridge, and at the sight of Klingons turning to regard him, his upper lip twitched faintly. They smelled the same as the ship; and though Soran had always believed himself an unprejudiced man, this particular species tested his limits. He strode past the all-male bridge crewhe was not a small man, but they dwarfed himand paused before the two women in the command seats, who stared in amazement at the dead star on the screen.
The younger of them, BEtor, rose to face him, her dark waving hair sweeping down over leather-clad breasts, her hideous features lit up by a leer that revealed protruding, jagged teeth. Youve done it, Soran!
He leaned forward and struck out, full force, catching her squarely in the jaw. She flailed, fell back against the console; immediately, several of the males leapt to their feet, disruptors in their fists.
Wait! BEtor waved an arm as she rose unsteadily to one knee; an El Aurian woman, Soran knew, would never have gotten up from that punch. She touched the back of a hand to her mouth, frowned at the violet stain there, then glanced up at Soran.
I hope for your sake that you are initiating a mating ritual. The edge in her tone was dagger-keen, dangerous.
Soran stood, utterly unafraid of the disruptors still pointed at him, disgusted by the thought of intimacy with this female, this … primate, clad in metal and skins and drunk with territorial power. Even if he did not completely possess the upper hand, he could not fear these creatures, could not fear death. Annihilation, simple nonexistence, did not frighten him; but life without hope of the nexus, of Leandra and the children, seemed unbearable. To be this close, this close, and be denied it …
You got careless, he said harshly. The Romulans came looking for their missing trilithium.
BEtor pushed herself to her feet. Impossible. We left no survivors on their outpost.