Star Trek: The Next Generation: Starfleet Academy: Crossfire by John Vornholt

Author:John Vornholt
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Star Trek, Science Fiction, Star Trek Young Adult, Fiction
ISBN: 9780671553050
Publisher: Aladdin
Published: 1996-02-15T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

7

Geordi felt a cool wind on his face. It would have been refreshing except for the foul stench that came with it. The smell was a combination of burning debris, spilled fuel, sweat, and death.

He stared through his VISOR to discover an amazing sight—Elofim was not an uninhabited planet as he had imagined. There were skyscrapers and modern buildings, only now they were empty, bombed-out ruins. Whole walls had tumbled down, and smoke curled from blackened windows.

Scattered about were a few delicate spires, statues, and stained-glass windows, proving that Elofim must have been a beautiful place at one time. Now it was a wasteland of broken concrete, smashed glass, and green-skinned Orions.

There had to be at least a hundred Orion soldiers guarding the field where they had beamed down. It must look odd, thought Geordi—an army of grubby, battle-weary soldiers meeting a band of young people in sparkling dress uniforms.

Getting curious, the soldiers edged closer, and the young cadets backed up. They gripped their musical instruments as if they might be stolen by this grungy crowd. The Orions returned the reaction and gripped their bazookalike phaser rifles as if they were more important.

Geordi saw both men and women among the green-skinned soldiers. With their sunken faces and blank eyes, they looked as burned out as the buildings.

“Attention!” shouted a grizzled old Orion. The soldiers fell into a rough line and shouldered their weapons.

“That’s better,” said the Old Orion, who seemed to be a sergeant. “These people have come a long way to entertain you. They want to show you that you have not been forgotten.”

That’s not exactly true, thought Geordi. The cadets didn’t want to be here either, but now was not the time to mention that. They were going to leave after the concert, but these young soldiers were going to stay behind. Many of them would probably die on this forgotten planet.

“Escort them to the amphitheater,” ordered the sergeant.

One young soldier stepped up to Geordi. “This way, please.” He walked off, and Geordi fell into step beside him.

“Have you been here long?” asked Geordi.

The Orion looked around nervously, as if it was forbidden to talk. No one seemed to be paying attention to them. “Three years,” he said softly.

“This must be an important planet for you to fight so hard,” said Geordi.

The Orion looked down. “We are mercenaries. We are fighting because it is our job.”

Geordi tried not to look shocked. They weren’t even fighting for their homeworld! They were doing this horrible work for some third party. He reminded himself that the Orions had only recently given up slavery. Most of them were from a poor working class who were used to selling themselves to survive.

They walked down a cluttered street and turned a corner. Geordi gasped. The “amphitheater” was nothing more than a huge crater with cement stubble for seats. In the center of the crater was a raised wooden stage, and it was surrounded by a sea of wary green faces.

It was hard to tell if there were ten, twenty, or thirty thousand of them seated in the rubble, but there were a lot.

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