Bloodthirst (15 page)

Nguyen moved her head up and down a fraction of a millimeter; the arm around her throat was too tight for her to speak. She slid one leg backward, cautiously. If she could just find one of his legs, pull him off balance But they were hidden in heavy folds of velvet.

“Your communicator,” he said. “Call your ship. Tell them you have a package you need beamed directly to your quarters.”

“What package?” she asked, trying desperately to think of a way to stall him. “They can't be fooled into thinking
we're
inanimate”

“The picture you dropped,” the man said, pulling her backward so that she tottered. “Tell them you're tired of carrying it. You want it beamed to your quarters.” He nudged it with his foot, and she could hear it scraping across the ground until it lay at her feet.

If you hurt it, you son of a
The thought was interrupted by an eerier one:
How in the worlds did he know it was there? How could he see it?

“Here.” He loosened his grip just enough for her to raise the communicator to her face. “Call them.”

Now I have him
, she thought.
Give Vigelshevsky a Code Yellow and Tomson will have people waiting in the transporter room. If I can just make it sound casual enough.

He ground the phaser hard into her temple as if he read her thoughts. “Say anything else, and you're dead. No codes, no dropping hints. Believe me, you are expendable. Just as the woman on the ground was.”

Nguyen couldn't stop herself from looking down in the darkness, though she was grateful she could not make out the body.

He squeezed her neck so tightly she began to gag, then relaxed the pressure. “Call.”

She flipped open the grid. “Nguyen to
Enterprise
.”

“Vigelshevsky here. Tired of liberty so soon, Lisa?”

“Not at all. Actually, I was just wondering if Kyle would beam a package up for me.” She sounded stiff, unnatural, and wondered if her captor noticed. But the pressure around her neck did not increase.

“I'll notify Kyle. Vigelshevsky out”

“Wait!” she almost shouted, then forced her voice to be calm. Certainly Vigelshevsky must have heard something odd in her tone. The communications officer did not terminate the link, but silently waited for explanation. “I—I have a special favor to ask. Could you ask him to beam it directly to my quarters?”

“That's a little unusual,” Vigelshevsky answered quietly. He
had
noticed.

“It would save me a trip. Could you check with him?” Nguyen asked with forced joviality.
Please figure it out, Vigelshevsky, for God's sake, please read my mind.

“Okay.” The communications officer's tone was dubious. “Hold on.”

She held her breath and waited. Good God, what if Kyle wouldn't do it? What then? Would this crazy scatter her molecules all over the park? She held her breath and waited. With each passing second, she imagined the pressure against her throat increased until at last she could bear it no longer.

“He'll do it,” Vigelshevsky said at last. “Apparently there's no regulation against beaming objects intraship. But he said not to get mad at him if he loses it inside a bulkhead.”

“Tell him I promise.” She felt both relieved and disappointed by his answer. The arm tightened around her neck; time for the conversation to end.

“Thanks, Vigelshevsky. Nguyen out.”

She shut her communicator and replaced it carefully on her belt. Within seconds, she heard the hum of the transporter near her feet.

“Pick it up.” The man pushed her to her knees. She groped for the painting, found it, and wrapped both arms around it as he knelt behind her and circled his arms firmly around her waist. Together they were caught up in the beam.

A chill breeze sighed through the branches, carrying on it the smell of blood.

Kirk had finally drifted off to sleep when the intercom whistle wakened him.

“Sorry to bother, Captain, but Admiral Mendez is calling from star base. He says it's urgent.”

Kirk sat up, made instantly alert by Vigelshevsky's tone of voice. Mendez's agitated face appeared on the screen.

“Admiral. Is there some problem?” Kirk's tone was far more civil than the last time; while he still disliked the admiral, he found it difficult to maintain his hostility toward him after learning of his son.

But Mendez seemed barely able to contain his rage. His huge shoulders hunched forward; his fists were clenched tightly. “More than a problem,” he said through gritted teeth. “Adams has escaped.”

“Escaped? But Dr. McCoy told me the containment methods”

“Were foolproof, I know.” Mendez waved Kirk's comment away impatiently. “He got away while my people were transporting him to my vessel. The area was closed off and darkened, so no one was there to stop him before he transported out of the medical facility.” He stopped abruptly and lowered his voice. “
Two
people, Kirk. Two of my people were killed.”

“I'm sorry to hear that, sir,” Jim said. He knew what it was like to lose a crewperson: the feeling of ultimate blame, of helplessness He found his dislike of the man easing.

Mendez did not seem to hear him. “I knew Jacobi's father. I have to call him and tell him.” He stopped for a moment to gather himself, then continued quietly. “Are you still so willing to believe in Adams' innocence?”

“I'm truly sorry about your people, Admiral. But it wasn't so much that I believed in Adams' innocence, but in his right”

“I know.” Mendez half turned away in frustration.

Kirk was at a loss. “Is there anything I can do, Admiral? The
Enterprise
can help in the search.”

The admiral shook his huge head, his anger turned to resignation. “No.” He looked up at Kirk. “There's no reason for the
Enterprise
to be involved in this matter any further. Your people have already been placed at risk once, at my order.”

“I appreciate that, Admiral,” Kirk said, quite sincerely. “But we stand ready to help if you need us.”

“Do you have anyone down on the surface now?” Mendez asked.

“A handful on leave.”

“Get them aboard now. Adams is down there somewhere. If I were you, I'd get my people off star base before there's any chance of the disease spreading.”

“I'll do that, sir,” Kirk answered. “We'll warp out as soon as I can get all my people up.”

He had no way of knowing that he was already too late.

“Are you feeling any better?” Stanger asked solicitously. He was feeling quite a bit of guilt by this time. He had not realized the effect such a tiny bit of alcohol would have on an Andorian's system, else he would not have encouraged Lamia back in the bar.

The attempt to find a dance hall had given way to a need to find Lamia some fresh air. She would not admit to feeling ill, but when Stanger suggested they take a stroll instead and try to find Lisa, she had jumped at the chance. They'd barely made it to the ring of trees when Lamia had made it clear she wanted some privacy.

Stanger rubbed his arms and steadfastly ignored the sounds of gagging that came from a few yards away. The night was colder than it was on most star bases, but perhaps that would help to clear Lamia's head. He felt dreadfully guilty that he didn't have an antihangover pill, not even an aspirin, to offer her. Not that it would stay down, anyway.

When she emerged from the shadows again, he could see even in the thin light that her face was a paler shade than usual, and that she was shaky. “Come on. Let's get you up to sickbay, or tomorrow you'll be even sorrier. Dr. McCoy can give you something to keep you from getting any sicker.”

“No,” she said, her voice thin but resolute. “Let's call Lisa first and tell her we're leaving. Otherwise, she might worry about us.”

Stanger raised his eyebrows. “What could possibly happen to the two of us down here?”

“I don't know.” Lamia closed her eyes and swayed where she stood; he went over to her and took an elbow.

“All right,” he said. “I'll call her. But first, you sit.”

He lowered her next to a tree before taking out his communicator and setting it to Lisa's frequency. “Stanger to Nguyen Lisa, this is Jon. Come in, please.”

A hailing override whistled shrilly in his face; he nearly dropped the communicator. “What the”

“Vigelshevsky here. Sorry to interrupt your conversation, Mr. Stanger, but it's imperative that everyone get up to the ship right away.”

Stanger frowned. “We've still got three hours of leave left. What's the rush?”

“The captain didn't tell me, but from the way he's acting, it must be pretty serious.”

Stanger sighed. It was just as well; if Vigelshevsky hadn't called when he did, Stanger would have called and requested a beam-up himself. The next three hours weren't going to be much fun, regardless of where he spent them. “Could you contact Ensign Nguyen for us? She's supposed to be with our group, but we got separated. Ensign Lamia here isn't feeling well and I'd like to get her up to sickbay ASAP”

“Nguyen's already on board,” Vigelshevsky answered, with such an odd note in his voice that Stanger immediately asked:

“Is she okay?” When no answer came, he added, “Lisa and I are good friends. If something's wrong, she'd want me to know.”

“Well,” Vigelshevsky answered reluctantly, “if you're her friend, you'd better talk to her. She's in trouble.”

“
Lisa?
You're kidding. What for?”

“She tricked Kyle into beaming her directly to her quarters. They could
both
get a demerit for that.”

Stanger shook his head in disbelief. “It's got to be some kind of mistake. That doesn't sound like Lisa at all.”

“And—swear you won't repeat this, ever”

“I swear,” Stanger said indignantly. “Look, I said I was her
friend
. I'm not the type to talk behind someone's back.”

“She brought an unauthorized person aboard.” There was a meaningful pause. “If anyone finds out”

Stanger's face grew hot. “Even if Lisa met someone interesting down there, she'd have the good sense not to take him up to her quarters. I think Kyle better calibrate his sensors.”

“Let's hope so,” Vigelshevsky said, but he sounded unconvinced. “In the meantime, Kyle would really like to hear from her. He doesn't want to have to put her on report he's hoping it was some kind of mix-up.”

“I'm sure it is,” Stanger replied firmly, to let Vigelshevsky know the subject was closed. He eyed the Andorian, slumped against the tree, head resting on her knees. He'd have to deal with Lisa's problem later. His priority was to get Lamia to sickbay and get her treated for alcohol poisoning.
You're just as bad for her as she is for you. Why don't you break things off before it gets any worse?

He would have to do it. It was time to stop indulging himself, time to stop pretending he didn't realize what was happening to him just as it had with Rosa. In the bar, it was clear that Lamia was becoming attracted to him.

It was time to stop things before anyone had a chance to hurt anyone else.

(You mean before she has a chance to hurt you, don't you, Stanger?)

Yes, dammit, that's exactly what I mean.

He'd have to firm with himself—and with her. He'd have to let her know exactly the way things were going to be. Later, of course, when she was feeling better.

(Coward)

To Vigelshevsky, he said, “I guess we're ready to call it a night, then.”

“I'll tell Kyle.”

Nguyen and her abductor beamed into the quarters she shared with Lamia. The lights were dimmed, so that they stood in twilight.

“The lights,” the man said, loosening his grip and pushing her forward, toward the panel on the wall. The painting fell from her arms; she barely avoided stumbling over it. “Turn them off.”

She turned her head just enough to see who stood behind her: an anonymous figure in a scarlet cloak, waving a phaser at her.
Little Red Riding Hood
, she thought crazily.
The wolf can't be far behind
.…She moved toward the wall slowly. There was a connection her mind was trying to make out of all of this.

Adams. This man was Dr. Adams. Stanger had told her about the bodies on Tanis with their throats cut, just like the woman on Star Base Nine. Somehow, Adams must have gotten away and back onto the
Enterprise.
Stanger had told her how the man screamed at the sensation of light on his bare skin.

"Now,”
Adams snarled. Even the dim light must have made him uncomfortable.

She pressed the wrong code deliberately. The room was flooded with bright light.

He screeched, covering his eyes, and ran at the wall, as if to turn off the lights himself. She stepped aside, and when he pushed on the panel, darkening the room, she tugged at his phaser. She wasn't able to wrest it from him, but forced him to drop it. She could hear it slide across the floor. Adams scrambled after it.

Lisa didn't follow. She wouldn't have been able to see it in the dark, as he could. Her only hope was to turn on the light and blind him again before he could fire.

She did so, and was almost successful. She pulled away from the direction of the blast as it came, but the edge of it struck her, knocking her to the floor.

She was conscious, but temporarily paralyzed. She watched as Adams turned off the light, listened as he walked toward her, felt his thin, strong arms lift her and place her on the bed. It was impossible in the blackness to see his face, but she could sense him near her.

And then she heard a very strange sound the sound of polished metal being slid along a soft surface. It took her a moment to identify it as the sound of a knife being pulled from its sheath.