DS9 - Avatar 2 by Star Trek

Author:Star Trek [Star Trek]
Language: deu
Format: epub
Tags: \Star Trek
Published: 2011-01-02T08:00:38.608000+00:00

The tech/guard held the tricorder up, motioning at the door. "I've got it."

They fell in around her, Kira and the tech taking the lead, Vaughn hanging back to talk to Picard. As

he filled the captain in, he found he couldn't stop staring at the dead corporal's open eyes, his clawed throat, the fan of thickening blood on his forehead from a pa ir of deep cuts. He looked surprised, caught off guard by the end of his life. He looked dead.

If they didn't find and stop the Jem'Hadar ASAP, a lot more people were going to end up the same way. Vaughn could think of a dozen ways that one determined person could destroy a space station without too much trouble, and that was without being invisible . . . or a Jem'Hadar soldier, who was always willing to die if it meant he could take out his enemy in the process. To them, death meant nothing, but it was a victory if they didn't go down alone.

Five minutes. If they didn't have a clear idea of Kitana'klan's intent by then, Vaughn was going to start pushing for a full evacuation. They couldn't afford anything less.

Ezri acted unprofessionally. She didn't ref lect or consider. As soon as she stepped into the bay behind Vaughn, she saw Julian. And there was so much blood, what seemed like bucketfuls splashed across his face and chest, puddles of it all around him, that she knew he was dead. Knew it. And that was when she saw his chest rise, and when she took action.

Not thinking about the possible dangers, not thinking about anything but how important he was, how she had to make him stay with her, Ezri ran to him, grabbing the med kit off the bloody floor before dropping to his side.

He was so pale, the blood seemed ludicrously

bright against his skin. His tattered jacket and the shirt underneath were soaked with it, but the gashes on his chest were only oozing. The seal patch on his collarbone might have stopped the major bleeding, she didn't know, and she didn't want to make anything worse by jumping to medical assumptions"Julian, can you hear me? Julian?" Ezri asked, not expecting a response, wondering why they weren't already at the infirmary-and he let out a semiconscious moan, so soft that she barely heard it.

He winced, his mouth twisted, an expression of hopeless suffering, and Ezri started talking, reassuring him. Comforting him. She took his hand, noting with alarm that his fingers were scarcely warmer than her own, keeping the alarm from her voice; she told him that she loved him, and that he would be all right.

She was looking at his blood -spattered face as the environment around them changed, as they were transported to an emergency table, flush with the floor on one side of the infirmary's operating theater. Ezri quickly stumbled away and someone touched a command, the section of floor rising, Julian's devastated body rising up to meet the waiting, healing hands of Dr.

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