Star Trek TNG - 093, 2 A Time to Die by John Vornholt

Author:John Vornholt [John Vornholt]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction, Star Trek Fiction
ISBN: 9780743467667
Publisher: Star Trek
Published: 2014-03-06T16:00:00+00:00

His top-heavy torso lurching and his knuckles almost grazing the deck, the Kreel scavenger led Picard and Vale down the corridor of the crippled Jem’Hadar battle cruiser. Hok’Tar, Pakled, and Orion looters laughed at them as they passed, and Picard soon guessed why. Judging from the foul smell, they were about to clean the latrines. As they neared the door, where a mass of flies were inexplicably buzzing, the captain had to breathe through his mouth and cover his eyes. That forced him to stop, but the muscular Kreel grabbed the butt of a pistol weapon and pointed inside with a grunt.

Cristine Vale appeared as if she would throw up.

The captain looked at his taskmaster, who could only vaguely be called humanoid. “What do we clean it with?”

“Your clothes!” blared the Kreel, causing the bystanders to erupt in hysterics. He roughly shoved them inside and loped in after, shutting the door behind him.

The stench and the sight of all this intergalactic bodily waste was almost enough to make Picard faint, as he gave some serious thought to attacking the Kreel bare-handed. They outnumbered the alien two-to-one, although it became fifty-to-one in the transporter room beyond. Vale swooned from the odor, and Picard had to catch her, effectively ending that desperate plan.

“Captain,” whispered the Kreel, “it’s me, Brewster. Give Vale to me.”

Wide-eyed with surprise, Picard didn’t know how he knew that this savage was Ensign Brewster, but he somehow placed the unconscious lieutenant in his rangy arms. She was already starting to come to, and the Kreel glanced nervously at the door. “Listen,” he continued, “both of you. I’m taking you back to our ship one by one. Captain, take off your shirt and start cleaning.”

Fully regaining consciousness, Christine Vale tried to pull away from the scaly brute. Before Picard could reassure her, the two of them disappeared. It wasn’t even like a transporter beam—it was as if they were never there. A pounding fell on the door, and he instantly stripped off some clothing and got to his knees to clean the muck.

“I’m cleaning!” he shouted. “Wait a minute!”

There was low grumbling, but the door didn’t open. Only a few seconds passed before the big Kreel appeared again, materializing out of foul air.

“Colleen is so charming, I can’t get her away from them,” it snorted, “and that big Orion won’t let her out of his sight. I’m going to get you to the Skegge, Captain; then we need a major diversion. Get ready to launch, fire a torpedo right at the guard-post. Wait for us. With any luck, it will only be a few seconds.”

“How are you doing this?” The captain waved off his own question. “Never mind…later.”

The Kreel grabbed his arm. In an instant they were crouched on the deck of the Skegge. Through the viewport, the captain could see a dozen other scavenger ships nestled in the forcefield corral under the battle cruiser’s mammoth nacelle. He turned to thank his savior, but no sooner did the alien let go of his arm than he was no longer there.

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