Star Trek Starfleet Corps of Engineers - 35 - The Demon - Book 1 by Star Trek

Author:Star Trek
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science Fiction
ISBN: 9780743476096
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Published: 2003-01-02T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter

8

Rennan Konya sensed the hostility and the fear that surrounded him, scoring his psyche like twin barbs on the same lash. Part of him recoiled from the contact—had seemed to feel a shimmering of revulsion even before materializing, though intellectually he knew that was not possible. The stronger part of his Betazoid mind embraced the pain, made it a part of him, and searched for a way to turn it into a strength.

He picked up no coherent thoughts, but within seconds of materializing he already knew that the two reptilian beings nearest him were far too afraid to pull their triggers. Many of the others were strangely ambivalent, afraid to fire but resigned to do so if they found it necessary. Two of them were eager to resolve the situation with action.

Far, far too eager.

One of these stood within reach of Rennan, holding a metal rod that bled red sparks from its front end. Some kind of converted plasma welder. She covered Commander Gomez and Fabian Stevens, weapon swinging back and forth as if deciding which one should be shot first.

The other snakelike being with violent emanations stood opposite Vinx, competing in a stare-down contest with the Iotian security guard. Vinx egged him on with not-so-subtle gestures, poking toward the alien with his phaser rifle. “Are ya talkin’ to me?” Vinx taunted, his voice only slightly muffled by the environmental suit’s helmet.

“Drop the weapon!” The alien held some kind of pistol-style weapon.

Apparently Vinx wanted to get shot. Louder, he asked again, “Are ya talkin’ to me?”

This could not have a good end.

One of the uncertain beings tried to defuse the situation. “Hold,” he ordered the one facing off with Vinx. Though a head shorter than his larger companion, the alien’s raspy voice held the unmistakable air of authority. He leaned forward, catching his man in a glassy-eyed stare. A tongue licked out, tasting the air. “Rhyss, I said hold!”

Too late. Rennan’s special training allowed him to tap into the motor complex of the brain much easier than the thought process. He felt fingers tightening on triggers, knew that the leader could not stop his two makeshift warriors in time. Not both of them. As the leader lunged forward, tucking his legs back to strike snakelike toward his own man, arm coming up to grab the pistol, Rennan slid in low and sideways toward the alien who had finally decided to start with Commander Gomez, the closer engineer.

It all happened in the brief span of two seconds. The pistol-like device discharged into the ceiling, raining a shower of sparks and molten droplets over Vinx and P8 Blue. The Nasat curled into a protective ball, rolling forward out of reflex to bowl over both aliens.

The second trigger-happy alien had sensed Rennan’s approach, swinging her plasma-dripping rod around to skewer the Betazoid. Using a specialty he referred to as proprioception, sensing the alien’s actions and using her movement against her, Rennan dodged in, spinning to one side. His environmental suit made it harder, but not impossible.

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