A Time to Die

by John Vornholt

  “You seem to have the navigation sense of a Medusan,” said Vale, sounding impressed.

  “He’s good friends with one,” said Colleen Cabot with a smile. “Maybe some of that has rubbed off on him.”

  “I just do my homework,” replied the ensign humbly.

  An unknown force suddenly rocked the Skegge, and Brewster and Cabot were knocked into each other’s arms. The feeling of weightlessness returned as the lights flickered. Picard and Vale stayed in their seats, while the captain tried to get command of the little ship. The controls were absolutely dead.

  “Shields are out,” reported Vale. “Is it—” She didn’t have to finish her sentence.

  Yes, thought Picard, this is the way every encounter with the mimic ship begins. “Quick! Get your suits on!”

  Pandemonium erupted as everyone in the cramped cabin tried to obey his order in a weightless state. Picard remained in his seat. His heart pounding and the ship’s systems failing one by one, he peered out the viewport, searching for the Ontailians’ demon flyer.

  Chapter Seven

  INSTEAD OF a shapeshifting apparition that was poised to paralyze and duplicate them, what Captain Picard saw out his viewport was a greenish-black scow that looked in worse shape than the Skegge. The oblong craft was only distinguishable from the derelicts by the thrusters firing to keep it in a stationary position. Slowly the Skegge’s systems began to come online, even while the craft was jerked roughly. Gravity abruptly returned, landing Brewster, Cabot, and Vale in a pile on the deck, tangled in their spacesuits. Picard tried to accelerate his way out, but the engines were ineffective.

  “That feels like a tractor beam,” said the captain. He studied his readouts and had his hunch confirmed as his shipmates crawled back to their posts. “Definitely a tractor beam. We don’t have enough power to get away from it.”

  “I’ll try to hail them,” said Vale, picking up an old-fashioned headset. “Should we ready a torpedo?”

  “No, we’re too close…and getting closer…less than fifty meters.”

  A circular saw on the bow of their captor began to whir, and what looked like robotic arms snapped at them.

  “They’re going to board us!” said Cabot with alarm.

  “That’s exactly right,” answered Vale, working her board. “The quality isn’t good, but listen to their hail.”

  Amid the crackling and pops of static came a gruff voice. “Ekosian ship, prepare to be boarded. Open your hatch, or we will force our way in.”

  “Put me through to them,” ordered Picard angrily. Although he was painfully aware that he didn’t have the might of a Sovereign-class starship behind him, he still greeted the attackers sternly. “Salvage ship, back off! We have photon torpedoes. Release us from your tractor beam immediately.”

  He motioned to Vale to cut off communications. “Ready torpedo one. Put all power to shields.”

  “Yes, sir,” she answered. “At this range, we might be destroyed in the explosion.”

  “I know.” The greenish vessel hesitated for a moment, but they were still only twenty-five meters away. Suddenly a mounted harpoon gun on the intruder shot at them. A missile exploded directly in front of the Skegge, shrouding the tug in a giant energized net. Once again, the lights flickered, and all the onboard systems began to fail.

  “Now we can’t fire,” muttered Vale, listening to her earpiece. “And a new hail is coming in…exactly the same demand as before.”

  “They’re not Ontailians,” said Brewster, peering over Picard’s shoulder. “Who are they?”

  Picard responded slowly. “I don’t know who they are, but we’re about to find out. Vale, tell them to dock at the cargo bay. Then open it to show them…that we give in.”

  “Captain!” shouted Cabot in alarm. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

  “Would you like to relieve me of command, Counselor? Now would be a good time.”

  Brewster stared at Colleen for a second, and she seemed to relent under his gaze. “Like Mother always said, put your best foot forward.”

  “They could have destroyed us,” said Vale; however, she didn’t sound convinced that they would be spared much longer.

  “They want the tug, not us,” replied Cabot. “We’ll have to make them want us.”

  “Sir, do we distribute weapons?” asked Lieutenant Vale.

  Picard turned to his board. “No, the counselor is right. This is our competition—a welcoming party from the local looters. We’ll have to get along with them or be destroyed. Just in case, I’m locking out the controls with a security code.”

  “Captain,” said Vale worriedly, “they might torture you for that code.”

  He glanced at the counselor and said, “Wouldn’t be the first time. Don’t flash any weapons around, but if I were you women, I’d see if I could conceal something on my person. These looters aren’t always interested in salvage.”

  They heard a metallic clang and felt a jolt, and both Vale and Cabot rummaged through the weapons cabinet to find knives and small phasers. The net surrounding the tug suddenly stopped glowing, and artificial gravity returned. For an instant, Picard thought about firing the engines to get away, but with another ship attached to them, they would probably careen into one of the derelicts and be destroyed in seconds. Ensign Brewster was oddly calm through the entire scenario. Picard decided that he was the coolest customer he had ever met, a perfect complement to Admiral Nechayev.

  When the ensign noticed Picard looking at him, he said, “As long as we’re alive, there’s always a chance.”

  “I know,” agreed the captain.

  The hatch in the center of the deck flew open with a crash, and a shaggy mane of green hair appeared in the opening, followed by massive green shoulders and a muscular torso that was naked except for a studded, purple sash. A large Klingon disruptor was pointed directly at Picard, only the wielder wasn’t Klingon—he was Orion, one of the most barbaric races in the Alpha Quadrant.

  As the Orion climbed up the ladder, he turned his attention to the women, especially the lovely Colleen. She gave him an insouciant smile and shifted her weight. The intruder grinned and hurried up to the deck. Picard thought momentarily about attacking him, but the Orions were physically much stronger than any humanoid race in the quadrant save Vulcans. Plus that disruptor pistol looked menacing.

  The brute gave Colleen and Vale an appreciative look. “When we didn’t see anything in the hold but torpedoes, we thought this was a worthless haul. Not so.” He shouted down into the hold. “Vengus! Tell them we’re bringing the ship and prisoners!”

  “We’re not supposed to bring prisoners,” grumbled a voice, and a second green head with sloping forehead, beady eyes, and pug nose poked out of the hatch. When he looked around, he said, “These aren’t Ekosians. They’re humans!”

  “We’re ex-Maquis,” said Picard. “We’ve been doing this for years.”

  “Well, you tried to do it in the wrong place,” growled the Orion with the disruptor. “Follow us, all three of you.”

  Three of us? thought Picard. He looked around and saw that Ensign Brewster was gone. Still being friendly, Colleen Cabot looked unconcerned about the missing crew member, and Picard’s glance at Vale told her to keep quiet. How could Brewster have escaped without anybody seeing him? As far as these thugs are concerned, he doesn’t even exist.

  There was no time to ponder this mystery with a disruptor waving at him. “Move it!” growled the Orion.

  Without hesitation, Picard stepped toward the hatch. Since he wasn’t a comely young woman, he would be the first to die if the Orions got trigger-happy.

  Brewster, he thought to himself, wherever you are, I hope you can do some good.

  Will Riker tried not to pace across the Enterprise bridge. It was difficult to just sit still when he didn’t know the fate of Captain Picard and the Skegge crew, and he wouldn’t find out until they checked in twenty minutes from now, which should have given them enough time to find a hiding spot
and settle in. Their sensors had picked up an Ontailian ship firing at something near the gap where the tug had entered the battle site. Only a few meters into Rashanar, sensor readings became worthless, so the Skegge could have been destroyed without anyone knowing.

  If the Skegge didn’t report in, he would have to crash Rashanar like a cadet at the admiral’s banquet. Not only would they draw every Ontailian ship in the system, but the covert part of their mission would be over. It would be no picnic to pilot the mighty starship safely into Rashanar at full speed, even without anyone shooting at them. They would have to come out of warp almost on top of the graveyard. That in itself was dangerous.

  At the ops console, Data had taken over Vale’s tactical duties as well as his own. “Captain,” said the android, “there is a strange message for you.”

  “Strange, why?” asked Riker. “Who’s it from?”

  “Unknown, but the sender of the message is in your ready room.”

  “In my ready room?” Riker chuckled, until he realized that Data was not likely to make a joke without his emotion chip. The only way into the ready room was through the bridge. Nobody had passed through, and with only him, Data, and Kell Perim on duty, a newcomer wouldn’t have escaped their attention.

  “We’re traveling at warp speed and have our shields up,” said Perim. “How could somebody just materialize in the ready room?”

  “Should I call security?” asked the android.

  “No,” said Riker, walking toward the door to the captain’s private office. “There must be a logical explanation for this.”

  As soon as the door slid open, he stopped and almost changed his mind about calling security. The person who stood before him couldn’t possibly be there.

  “Come in,” whispered Ensign Brewster, motioning him inside. “I’m not a ghost.”

  Riker entered, and the door whooshed shut behind him. “How can you be here? Didn’t you go with the captain?”

  “Yes, I did. Listen, I haven’t got time to explain everything to you, but Captain Picard is not going to check in when he’s supposed to. The Skegge and her crew have been taken prisoner by some Orion scavengers.”

  “And you escaped…but how?”

  The mild-mannered Brewster looked animated for the first time since Riker had known him. “The next time I see you, I promise I’ll explain. For now, just don’t charge into Rashanar when the Skegge doesn’t report in. You can’t help them. Let me see if I can free them.”

  “You? By yourself?”

  “I’ll return with word as soon as I can,” promised Brewster.

  Riker had questions, but he swallowed them whole the moment that Ensign Brewster disappeared. He gawked, then rubbed his eyes. Yes, the ensign had vanished without a trace, not even the sparkle of a transporter beam. Not that anyone could transport out of a starship going at warp speed with shields up—that was impossible.

  He reminded himself that he had seen strange things before in this job. Riker looked at the chronometer on the desk and thought, I only have ten minutes to see if his news is confirmed.

  Trying not to appear too shaken, the acting captain strode out of the ready room and stood before his bridge crew. He must have looked troubled, because Data instantly inquired, “Are you unwell, sir?”

  “I’m okay. Data, was there any evidence of an intruder coming or going from the Enterprise in the last few minutes?”

  “No, sir. Was there someone in the ready room?”

  “I’m not sure,” answered Riker, looking back at the closed door. “Maybe it was a projection of some sort. There’s no one there now.”

  “That is true,” agreed Data, running a scan of the room. “However, someone activated the com panel in the ready room.”

  Deciding not to worry them with possibly false information, Riker crossed to the command chair and sat down. “We’ll know in ten minutes,” he said. “Steady as she goes.”

  As two hulking, green-skinned Orion males admired her, Colleen Cabot thought, This is more adventure than I expected. A third Orion was flying the filthy, corroded salvage ship, with the Skegge in tow.

  She glanced at her shipmates, Captain Picard and Lieutenant Vale, both of whom looked stunned by this turn of events. Although they wisely had said nothing, they were probably wondering about Ensign Brewster’s sudden disappearance more than the hijacking of their little tug. They weren’t going to win many fights in the Skegge, and if they were going to fit into the scavenger community of Rashanar, they would have to find some other way to get along.

  “What are you going to do with us?” Colleen asked their captors.

  “Sell you,” growled the one named Vengus. His black eyes traveled lasciviously from Cabot to Vale, but his brutish face wrinkled when he saw Picard. “I don’t know what we’ll do with him. Old human males are not worth much.”

  Colleen appealed to the other one, Hidek, who had spared them in the first place. “Why don’t you let us join your fleet? We’ll split everything we salvage with you.”

  “Your ship will join our fleet,” replied Vengus. “We don’t need you. We keep everything for ourselves.”

  “Well, that’s not much fun,” said the attractive blonde, gazing at Hidek, who had yet to contradict his partner. “We could have so much fun if we stuck together. You know, loot isn’t everything.”

  Hidek gave her a wry smile. “We might keep you with us…for a while.”

  Colleen gave him an encouraging smile, all the time wondering when Wesley Crusher would intervene to get them out of this mess. Although the Traveler had amazing powers, she didn’t think he could subdue three huge Orions in the confines of this small craft. Nor would it work for him to disable the vessel in the middle of the graveyard, where they could be destroyed by an errant energy spike or a crumpled relic. No, Wes would have to wait for a better opportunity than this.

  Picard shifted uncomfortably in his seat on top of a spool of metal cable. “Have any of you seen it?” he asked. “The demon ship?”

  That wiped the smile from Hidek’s face, and his partner looked as if he’d been punched in the stomach. “You talk too much, human,” barked Vengus.

  “You know what I’m talking about,” said Picard. “The demon ship takes on the appearance of other vessels…after it destroys them.”

  “Old woman’s tales,” Vengus retored. He didn’t sound convincing in his denial.

  Picard nodded sagely. “You’ve lost ships to that monster, too. So have we. That’s what annihilated half the vessels in this graveyard.”

  “But we’re going to capture it!” Colleen blurted out. Now everyone turned their attention to the young lady. Even the Orions looked impressed. “Think of it,” she said, her eyes wide and glistening, “that would be the ultimate salvage. If you had command over a shapeshifting spacecraft, no vessel would be too great for you to conquer. All the important powers of the Alpha Quadrant would lie at your feet and have to pay tribute, lest you unleash the ship on them. Plus you could duplicate any craft you wanted, even the newest starships.”

  Vengus snorted a laugh. “And how do you propose to capture this thing, if it even exists?”

  “It has a forced-energy weapon,” she answered, “which paralyzes other ships. We’ve determined that this weapon uses gamma rays. We plan to reverse the stream and paralyze the demon ship before it can paralyze us.”

  “That’s enough, woman!” snapped Picard angrily. “Keep quiet.”

  Good job, Jean-Luc, thought Colleen, help me play these creeps.

  “Enough fairy tales!” called the pilot from the cockpit. “We’re at the base. Prepare to dock.”

  Vengus and Hidek glanced at one another, as if sharing the same forbidden thought. Colleen tried to appear contrite under Picard’s stern glare, hoping to sell the idea that they were too valuable to sell into slavery or kill. Cabot turned to a grimy viewport at what looked like a corral full of small ships and salvage vessels, floating under the scorched nacelle of a mammoth Jem’Hadar battle
cruiser. A gunner in a spacesuit was mounted in a hollowed-out part of the nacelle. He waved them in with their prize, and there was sparkle as a forcefield deactivated in order to allow the Orions to enter the corral with the Skegge in tow. They knocked against one of the other scows while docking, but nobody seemed concerned. All the ships were banging around, like a clump of balloons floating on a string.

  “Stand by to transport,” said the pilot. “Are we taking everybody in?”

  Hidek waved his disruptor pistol at Picard. “Yes,…for now.”

  The muscular pilot turned around and tossed necklaces with green medallions to each of the three prisoners. “Put those on. They’re transporter locaters.” He grinned at their uneasy expressions. “Don’t worry, we can transport inside our forcefield. Who goes first?”

  While the Orions discussed the transporter order, Cabot saw Vale lean over to Picard and ask, “What if there are Androssi in there? They may recognize us.”

  Before the captain could reply, Vengus grunted, “We’ll each take one of the prisoners. You, Fair Hair, come with me.” He pointed directly at Colleen.

  “No, she goes with me,” said Hidek gruffly. “You take the skinny one.”

  The two Orions faced off, growling and snuf-fling until the third one pushed them apart. “I’ll take the skinny one—I like them lean.” He grabbed Vale roughly and hauled her to the cockpit. Cabot saw the feisty lieutenant tense as if she would resist, but Picard shook his head not to, so meekly she went with the strapping Orion. The two of them disappeared in the shimmering residue of a transporter beam.

  Picard stepped toward Vengus, effectively volunteering to go with the more unfriendly Orion, while Colleen tried to look demure. Grumbling, Vengus rudely pushed Picard into the cockpit, then joined him there, beaming off the salvage vessel a moment later.

  Hidek jerked Colleen toward his rippling green chest and said, “Now we’re alone. I want a kiss.”

  She disarmed him with a platonic peck on the cheek as she tickled his ribs. When Hidek started laughing and squirming under her probing fingertips, it was easy to pull away from him and dash to the cockpit. “Come on, I want to see your hideout!” she called playfully.