Chapter 02

Chapter 2

The disruptors on board the freighter were nearly as old as the ship itself. In this line of work, there was always the possibility of a boarding, so Brett knew he should have upgraded the personal weapons. But Grek never used a weapon, believing himself to be enough of a weapon to handle anything. And something about Smitty’s religion prevented him from using beam weapons for any purpose. As for Brett, he’d made the decision after leaving Starfleet not to use any weapon more dangerous than his mouth.

This vow seemed like a good idea at the time, but with the Cassandra under attack, he began to reconsider. Leaving Grek’s body in the rubble, Brett hurried back to the mess, where the weapons were kept in a cabinet meant for food stores. The freighter shook from another hit, pitching Brett to the deck. He looked back to find the way he’d come blocked by debris.

Whoever was attacking the ship had to be professionals. They were careful about targeting only the bridge and engines, not risking to hit the hold and destroying the cargo. In this case if they had blasted the cargo hold, they would have gotten a big surprise: a hundred coils for ground-based disruptor arrays that if hit could vaporize the Cassandra and everything in a thousand kilometer radius.

As he picked himself up, Brett considered triggering such an explosion himself to avenge Grek’s death. A noble sacrifice for his fallen comrade would be what he would do in a holonovel. This wasn’t a holonovel and as much as he liked Grek, Brett liked keeping himself alive much more. He’d left the hero business when he left Starfleet.

The ship rattled again from another hit; Brett braced himself in the mess door. When the vibration stopped, he darted over to the cabinet, shoving aside bags of ancient foodstuffs dating from before the invention of replicators to find the three disruptors. These were so old, he needed two hands to use one. Not at all like the phasers he’d used before.

A test shot failed to disintegrate a metal can. Apparently disruptor energy packs had an expiration date. He discarded two o the weapons, tucking the third in his belt. You never knew when a good bluff might work.

On the run between the mess and engine room, Brett didn’t have to brace himself once for a hit. The attackers must have realized the Cassandra was finished. It wouldn’t be long until they boarded the doomed ship to take the cargo—and kill any witnesses to the crime, unless Brett could come to an understanding with them. He’d talked his way out of worse spots in the past.

In the engine room, Smitty pounded a console in frustration. “We’re done,” he said. “All systems are shot. I’d need a month and a hold full of spare parts to get her back online.”

“Forget about the ship. We got our own skins to worry about right now,” Brett said. “When they come aboard, don’t make any threatening moves. Let me handle them.”

“You’re the boss.” Smitty patted the tool belt around his waist, inside which Brett knew he carried a lethal dagger. During a run-in with an unpleasant Ferenghi merchant on Deep Space Nine, the dagger had severed the hand from an Andorian trying to steal their cargo. That incident had required Brett to be especially persuasive.

To his surprise, the transporters the attackers used were Federation issue. The aliens that materialized had the cobra-like heads and turtle-like shells of Serparnians. From his dealings with Serparnians in the past, Brett knew the color of the shell dictated the Serparnian’s class. Green represented laborers and others of the lowest class, red the religious class, yellow the academic class, and blue the ruling class. That these five Serparnians had black shells meant they were outcasts from Serparnian society.

The leader of these Serparnians had a pink scar along the caramel-colored scales of his face and a hood mangled on the left side, no doubt from a fight. His clawed, three-fingered hand tightened around a Klingon disruptor much newer than Brett’s; he didn’t doubt it actually worked.

“Which of you is the captain of this vessel?” the Serparnian leader hissed.

“That would be me. Jack Henderson,” Brett said, using the name of an Academy roommate since his real name had become curse words to Serparnians. “If you’re the buyers, you’re a little early. We were supposed to meet on Serpalal III.”

“We are from the Serparnian Liberation Army. These buyers you speak of are our enemies. You are attempting to supply them with weapons to use against us.”

“I don’t know anything about that. All I know is I got a dozen crates in there bound for Serpalal III to someone named Slunph. You know him?”

The Serparnian brought the butt of his disruptor down on Brett’s head. “Insolent human. We will take your cargo for ourselves and then dispose of you.”

“Hey, hold on there. I’m sure we can work something out. I’m just a working man trying to feed his family. You can take anything you want, but let us go.” Out of the corner of his eye, Brett saw Smitty reaching into the tool belt for the dagger. “Smitty, don’t—”

Too late. One of the Serparnians fired his disruptor. Smitty’s body glowed with green light for a moment, his scream echoing those Brett heard in his nightmares. Then he was gone.

“What did you do that for? He wasn’t going to do anything!” Brett wanted to lunge forward, to bludgeon the Serparnians to death with something heavy, but he could only stand there with his hand up in supplication. There was nothing he could do for Grek or Smitty now.

The Serparnian leader turned to his comrades. “Take the cargo. I will deal with this one.” When the others left, the Serparnian leader said, “I know who you are, Brett Boutwell. I could never forget your face. You killed my wife and my children. Now I will see that justice is done.”

Brett waited for the Serparnian to fire the disruptor in his hand. Instead, the alien shoved Brett to the deck, still warm from where Smitty had evaporated. “What are you going to do to me?”

“Exactly what you did to them.”

The Serparnian backed out the door. Once the door closed, Brett heard the disruptor fire. He tried to open the door, but couldn’t. The Serparnian had fused the opening mechanism.

He was trapped.