Star Trek TNG - 007 Masks by John Vornholt

Author:John Vornholt [John Vornholt]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction
ISBN: 9780671741396
Publisher: Star Trek
Published: 2014-01-24T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

“WHAT?” GASPED KATE PULASKI. She ripped off her Herbalist’s Mask. “The captain’s dead?”

Will Riker lowered his head, almost wishing he could put his mask back on. “What happened?”

“We were attacked,” Lewis answered, “by a band of thieves. They were led by a woman.”

“Piercing Blade,” said Data glumly.

Fenton Lewis shrugged. “That might be her name. We weren’t given a chance to get to know them.”

“You’re the only survivor?” Riker asked, not bothering to hide the doubt in his voice. “How did you manage that?”

“And how did you come by that mask?” asked Dr. Pulaski.

Lewis held up his hands. “One question at a time, please. I know all of this comes as a terrible shock to you and you want to know every detail. I’ll be happy to write a complete report, but for the moment, let me give you the short version.”

“Please,” urged Riker.

“After we survived the volcano eruption,” the ambassador continued, pacing thoughtfully, “we found that all of our equipment had been knocked out by the volcanic dust. It is highly magnetic.”

“We are aware of that,” Data remarked.

Lewis gestured at the immense trees. “We headed toward these woods in search of safety. Unfortunately, there are other dangers on this planet besides the volcanoes. We were ambushed and taken by surprise.”

“Your Ambassador’s Mask didn’t help?” an incredulous Kate asked.

Fenton Lewis paused dramatically. “It saved my life. The others were killed outright, and I was captured. The Lorcans took my mask, but they didn’t want to leave me unclothed, so they gave me this mask.” He pointed to the feathered mask, and the tone of his voice implied that it was vastly inferior to the mask made by Fazool.

“Not possible,” growled Day Timer.

The others whirled around, having all but forgotten the Lorcan peddler sitting atop his wagon. He was shielding his eyes because all except Data and Greenblatt had removed their masks.

“Piercing Blade is uppity and devious,” Day Timer explained, “but she isn’t one to attack from hiding.” He cocked his mask before admitting, “She might kill one or two in a duel—”

“One or two!” snapped Fenton Lewis, glaring at the haughty Proprietor’s Mask. “She’s a murderer, I tell you.” He whirled back to Riker. “I have been through a great deal, Commander, and I don’t like having my word questioned.”

Will Riker was consumed by worry and shock. He tried to put his mind on the more immediate problem: whether to take Fenton Lewis’s story at face value, as truth. Riker didn’t like or trust the man, but he couldn’t deny having seen that ridiculous Halloween mask in the maskmaker’s shop. And he had experienced the violence of Lorca firsthand. Will hoped, if all of it was true, that Worf had put up a good fight.

“Can you find the place where this happened?” Riker asked hoarsely.

“I . . . I’m not sure.”

“You’d better think about it,” said the commander. “I can’t report the captain or anyone else dead until I find their bodies.”

“Your story is unsubstantiated,” Data told Lewis.

The ambassador shrugged and pulled on his mask.

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