TNG 24 - Nightshade (c) by Star Trek

Author:Star Trek [Star Trek]
Language: deu
Format: epub
Tags: \Star Trek
Publisher: Pocket Books.
Published: 2011-01-02T07:59:45.552000+00:00

Chapter Twelve

ACTING AMBASSADOR WORF stood staring down at the sentinel of the now very dead General Alick. It had been Breck’s suggestion to question the sentinel. He was the walking dead according to Orianian law. If they were going to ask him questions it had to be soon, before he chose a way to end his life.

After the scene with Dr. Stasha, Worf was determined that this questioning would go more smoothly. He did not need Troi’s urgings to behave in a civilized manner. He was Klingon and deeply offended at Talanne’s assumption that he would not mind a little torture. He would show them what Klingon honor meant, even if it meant holding his temper.

Troi sat quietly in a corner, watching the guard. The Orianian was slender even for an Orianian. His gaunt face was dominated by shining nearly doelike eyes that seemed out of place in his starved looking face. A white lightning bolt of a scar marred his face from forehead to chin.

But it wasn’t merely the scar that stole the beauty from the Orianian’s face. There was something wrong with the way the nose lined up under the eyes. A twist to the thin lips that didn’t match the face. Kel looked pinched and somehow uncared for, as if life had been hard, and it wasn’t getting any easier.

Worf stared at the deformed face and wondered if there were worse things hiding behind their breathing masks and goggles. Perhaps there was a reason, beyond necessity, for faces to remain hidden. Perhaps many of them looked like Kel underneath. Healed by medical technology but somehow twisted.

Worf stared down at the sentinel, arms crossed over his chest. This man was a warrior, not a civilian, and that made things easier. Worf did not feel the same constraints he had felt when questioning Dr. Stasha. Kel was a warrior, he would not be instantly afraid. Worf hoped that here, at least, was a worthy opponent.

Kel kept glancing up at Worf with brief flicks of his eyes. Kel’s thin hands twisted in his lap. The darting glances that he gave Worf betrayed an obvious nervousness. He was very uncomfortable. Worf was puzzled. Were all the Orianians victims at heart?

Breck sat in the far corner of the room nearest the door. There was a Venturi officer in the other corner. She was there to see that no illegal harm was done to the sentinel. True he had failed his duty in the worst possible way, but still he was Venturi and there was still the law.

Breck and the Venturi ignored each other. Their face masks and goggles lay in their laps. The new Venturi was as beautiful as Alick had been, with white-blond hair and eyes that were the molten gold of a snake’s. It was a rule of the interrogation room on this planet that all must bare their faces.

After one brief glance, neither Breck nor the Venturi officer had looked directly at Kel. They looked at anything to avoid Kel’s face: walls, Worf’s tall form, Troi, anything but their unmasked fellow.

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