93 A Time to Die by John Vornholt

Author:John Vornholt [Vornholt, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General, Fiction, Science fiction; American, Science Fiction, Space Opera, Adventure, Space ships, Star Trek fiction, Riker; William T. (Fictitious character), Thrillers, Picard; Jean Luc (Fictitious character)
ISBN: 9780743467667
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 2004-02-24T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

IN A FORCEFIELD CORRAL shimmering under the nacelle of a blackened Jem'Hadar battle cruiser, a dozen little tugs and salvage scows drifted peacefully. A vast maelstrom of destruction whirled around this island of calm. Laughter echoed in the transporter room inside the forlorn derelict. This unearthly peace was violently ruptured when a grimy tug suddenly launched an avenging torpedo, which streaked from its underbelly like a comet and slammed into a hollow section of the nacelle. The guard in the gunnery had no chance. The explosion ignited a riotous rippling of energy spikes that spread outward across the Rashanar Battle Site. Within seconds, the dazzling arcs had turned this section of the graveyard into a new war zone.

"Hang on!" shouted Picard, trying to maintain control of the Skegge while other vessels detonated all around them. Sparks flew as the tug slammed into another scow.

Vale sat grim-faced at the other console. "The forcefield is down! Let's get out of here!"

"Not yet." Picard looked worriedly at the Jem'Hadar ship, which was suddenly lit up like the grand opening of a used-spaceship lot. "Where are Brewster and Cabot?"

Large chunks of wreckage went crashing around the corral. "Shields are weakening!" warned Vale.

"One more second," replied the captain through gritted teeth. One of the other salvage ships managed to escape, its thrusters scorching a third vessel as it roared into the darkness.

Suddenly a brilliant white beam blasted off the remains of their shields, and Vale yelled, "They're firing phasers at us!"

"From where?" The captain peered through the smoke, flames, and debris into the heart of chaos. He could see that they had missed a second gunnery position in the hull. A cloud of rubble drifted between them, and that was their only protection.

"Let's go!" said another male voice, and Picard looked back gratefully to see Ensign Brewster holding an unconscious and bloody Colleen Cabot in his arms. He leaned on the trimpots, and they zoomed away just as another phaser blast grazed their stern and sheared off a winch.

"That was more diversion than we needed," muttered Brewster, laying the wounded counselor on the lower bunk at the rear of the cabin. He grabbed the first-aid kit and took out a bandage, using it to dab the blood from Cabot's forehead.

"Give her ten cc's of lectrazine," said Picard. "It's in the kit." He spared no time glancing over his shoulder or at his incoherent scanner readouts--all he knew was that the Skegge had to flee at top speed.

"We need to get word to the Enterprise as soon as possible," remarked Vale.

"I've taken care of that," answered Brewster as he prepared the hypospray. Deftly he administered the medicine, but he still fretted as he looked down at Colleen's unconscious form. "Her pulse is strong, but I wish my mother were here."

"Your mother?" asked Picard suspiciously. "Who are you really, Ensign Brewster?"

"He's a shapeshifter," said Vale.

"No, I'm not." The ensign shook his head, and his plain, dumpy features began to morph into a more handsome, youthful visage attached to a tall, slender body.

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