The Sky's the Limit - Marco Palmieri [17]
Shaking her head in disgust, Crusher turned to Daret. “Ialona, we need to start prepping for surgery right now.”
“That is,” Yar said, glowering at Malir, “unless you plan to question her again.”
“Tasha,” Crusher said, and Yar heard the warning in the single spoken word.
For the first time, Malir frowned. It was clear that he was unaccustomed to being addressed in this manner. His eyes narrowed, boring into her, and Yar was certain she saw anger and determination there. He was dangerous, she decided, particularly if provoked.
Easy, her inner voice cautioned, though her body tensed as Malir stepped forward.
“As it is obvious that you are neither a doctor nor an engineer, perhaps I should question you, to determine your true identity and reason for being here.”
“No, thank you,” Yar said, feeling her pulse quickening. “I like all my teeth where they are.”
Malir was fast—very fast. He lunged forward, raising his right arm. She registered the movement, but by then instinct had taken over and she stepped into the attack, her left hand blocking his arm before it could complete its downswing. Knowing the Cardassian had the advantage in weight and strength, Yar wasted no time following the hasty defensive movement with something more aggressive.
“Tasha!”
She heard Crusher’s cry but ignored it. Gripping Malir’s arm at the wrist, Yar shifted her weight and pivoted to her left, carrying his body across her hip and dropping him to the metal deck plating. She heard the Cardassian’s forceful exhalation as he slammed into the deck, the impact echoing in the crowded infirmary. She twisted his wrist, eliciting a sharp cry of surprise and pain.
“Do not move!”
She looked up to see the security guards moving toward her. One of them had drawn his disruptor pistol and was pulling it up to aim at her, giving Yar only a moment to consider the notion that she should have taken Malir’s own sidearm when she had the chance.
Commander Riker would never let me live that down.
“Stop.”
Though the single word was spoken with relative calm and restraint, there was no mistaking the commanding presence behind it. Coming from directly behind her, it made Yar flinch—and had a similar effect on the guards, both of whom halted their advance. The Cardassian who had brandished his weapon promptly lowered it and both guards turned their attention to the new arrival. Yar did likewise and immediately recognized the speaker’s wizened countenance.
Gul Edal.
“Glinn Malir,” the Kovmar’s commanding officer said, the infirmary lighting playing off the gray in his otherwise dark, backswept hair as he stepped farther into the room and allowed the doors to close behind him. “I trust there is an explanation for this disruption?” The gul’s voice was low and raspy, whether a sign of age or some unidentified health issue, Yar could not surmise. He moved slowly but retained the confidence of an experienced, even comfortable commander.
Yar stepped to her right as Malir pulled himself to his feet, making no attempt to straighten or brush his uniform. Fury burned behind his dark eyes, not merely at having his attack thwarted but also, she suspected, that his attempt at retaliation had been interrupted by the superior officer’s appearance.
“Gul Edal,” Malir began but stopped when Edal raised a hand and shook his head.
“Wait outside, please,” the gul said before nodding to the pair of security guards and adding, “You join him.” He moved past Malir to where Crusher and Daret still stood, their faces bearing matched expressions of surprise.
Emitting a grunt too low for Edal to hear but audible to Yar, Malir tugged on his heavy tunic. “We will finish this later,” he hissed, glowering at her as he passed her on his way to the doors with the guards following behind him. Not until they closed did Yar allow herself to exhale in relief.
I should have gone into stellar cartography.
“Doctor Crusher,