XXXIV

"I liked it better when we just stole things."

Captain Besha Frill tried to keep his footing and move quickly ahead, but a towering Nausicaan continued to jab him with the point of his disruptor at every turn. First he would be pushed ahead, commanded to hurry, then just as quickly jerked back by the collar and told to turn this way or hurry down that corridor. As if he could lead the way! As if he knew where they were supposed to be going!

"Please! Why have you taken me and my crew? What do you mean to―"

"Hold your tongue, Bolian eel." The Nausicaan, Brishek, snarled and continued to push him along.

Captain Frill wept silently to himself and continued to move quickly ahead. Eel? Eel!He frowned just as much as he wanted to cry. Bolians bore no resemblance at all to eels. It was an utterly unfounded insult! He pressed his hand to his side and tried to sooth the throbbing pain there, but to no avail. His forced speed made the pain only worse. He glanced over his shoulder and up, "If we could just have one of the medical kits from our ship, we could use it ourselves and ―"

"Agh!" Brishek grabbed Frill by his collar as if taking some animal by the scruff of its neck, and shoved him into the room they had just approached. "We will decide what to give you and when!"

Clearly.Frill almost rolled his eyes at the atrocious show of power. They had already taken his vessel and disemboweled it like a roast. They had already killed two of his crewmen in the effort. What else was there? He recognized the room they came to, for it was the same dungeon from which he had been dragged earlier. He saw with much relief the remaining compliment of his crew huddled together in a far corner, their blue faces even bluer behind the sparkle of an unstable force field. He took the moment between shoves to look around the rest of the room. There were others there with weapons, nameless members of this pirate crew whom he had seen before in a blur, but also another.

A young man sat on a far desk, one of his legs propped unceremoniously on the chair before him. Frill examined him quickly. His skin was a pinkish ivory color, like that of living wood, and there were no ridges on his nose. Frill looked closer. There were no points on his ears, nor V shaped protrusions from his forehead. He was like a blank creature, an empty canvas devoid of additions.

A human!Frill stumbled over his own feet and looked the man straight in the eye, his judgment lacking for all his past experiences with the creatures of Earth. He had never had a bad dealing with a human. He had never been at the receiving end of injustice from a human either, and the biases he had formed from a life among good humans made him forget himself. "Oh! Please give us some of our medical supplies. We have injured!"

The human at first appeared quite shocked by the pleading address and looked as he would reply, but another harsh shove from the Nausicaan appeared to change his mind, and he merely looked away. Frill almost groaned in his pain and frustration as the force field was lowered and he was pushed like a piece of rubbish into the holding cell. He stumbled and fell to his knees, the pain in his side aching even more as he fell. Several of his crew rushed away from the weak security of their group and worked to pull him back amongst them. He had never been so happy to see another Bolian face, and yet still he could not keep himself from staring at the human.

"When is this going to be over?" The human groaned, tilting his head back and running his fingers roughly through his stiff brown hair.

"Do you tire of babysitting?" Brishek asked with a hardy laugh. It was like Nausicaans to find amusement in themselves. No one else did. "Perhaps I should take your place, Conner, if chattel herding is not to your favor."

Frill watched with fascination as the human leveled a truly nasty frown at Brishek, "Anyone can 'herd chattel', Brishek. It takes a special jerk to get pleasure out of poking them."

Brishek snarled and took an aggressive step forward. "I warn you, human, I do not need you to share in the latinum."

"Oh, really?" The cocky young man brought his other foot into the chair now, and rested his elbows on his knees. "Reed left me the command codes, so I guess he trusts this 'hu-man'more than you."

Frill darted his eyes between both men. Surely the human must know he would stand no chance in a fight with that beast, and Nausicaans were not known for their self control. Brishek clenched his fists at his side for several seconds, his teeth grinding almost audibly. With a sudden burst of movement that could just as easily been an attack, he stormed from the room.

The other two guards looked at each other with amused expressions. They were both Farian, and even appeared to be twins. Frill now darted his eyes between them and the human, Conner, for he could not let go of his hope.

"If Reed wanted a pet, I could have recommended a dog." Conner smiled as he leaned back, letting his head rest against the wall. "I liked it better when we just stole things."

The Farians exchanged glances again, quite amused. "That Nausicaan is going to kill you." Said the first.

"No doubt about it. The first chance he gets." Said the other.

Conner shrugged. "Everyone on this ship wants to kill someone. Maybe whoever has it out for Brishek will get him before he gets me."

The two Farians raised their eyebrows in unison, for they understood the first reference. It made their amusement fade. One of them took a step forward, lowering his rifle from the force field and giving Conner a serious expression. "Look, you know the rest of the crew haven't been told anything. What's going on with Reed? What are we doing here?"

Conner clenched his jaw and frowned, uncertain. He even glanced over his shoulder at the cobalt group of prisoners. "Make you a deal. I let you guys take off so you can get some food and I can get some sleep, and I'll level with you when you come back. And trust me, this story's worth the wait."

The first Farian tilted his head slightly, giving Conner a suspicious look, but as so often happens with aliens he appeared to conclude that it was just the strange behavior of humans. He nodded at the opportunity and gave one last look at the Bolian prisoners. "Deal. What do humans say? Press down the fort?"

"That's 'hold down the fort', and yes I will." Conner laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back against the wall with a relieved sigh. He closed his eyes as if perfectly prepared to fall asleep, and the Farians both cast their weapons over their shoulders and talked as they left the room.

Frill struggled to sit up, but gentle hands pressed on his shoulders.

"No, just pretend to be asleep." Whispered the woman at his side. Frill looked up at her dark, concerned eyes. She was one of the best nurses he had on his crew. "They will just hurt you again."

Frill grunted as he pulled himself stubbornly to a seated position. His side ached from the ribs that he knew were broken, or at least cracked. During the initial attack he had been walking across the bridge with a steaming cup of Klingon coffee—wonderful stuff—in his hand when the deck had seemed to slide out from under him. He had fallen forward onto the side of his command chair, his ribs landing full on the arm in a painful crack.

"No, no. I'm fine, Shoola. Stay here." He waved her back as he began to work himself to his feet.

"What are you doing? Captain!" Shoola whispered in a panic and tried to grab his arm.

"No, no. Stay put." He shushed her and all the other. Their blue faces looked up at him in stark horror, and he shook his head to think of it. They were medical workers, all of them, the most caring and peaceful members of Bolian society. They had done nothing to deserve this. They deserved none of what might yet befall them.

He turned and felt his breath dragging him down. "Sir? Human?"

Conner opened his eyes and stared at him blankly.

"I'm sorry." Frill raised his hands, "I don't know your name. Please, we have injured here. We just need a few of our medical kits. That's all I ask. They don't have any weapons or things like that in them."

Conner closed his eyes again and turned his face away, but it was only for an instant. He sat up and rubbed his hands over his face roughly, as if he had not slept for some time. "Be quiet."

Frill felt the pain his side increase with his own panicked breaths. He could see something in this young man's eyes. He was tired, stressed. He did not have the sick exhilaration of dominion that he saw in the eyes of the others. He continuing, knowing very well that it might mean his end. "My lead nurse, she has a bad cut on her leg that will grow infected. We have to treat her or she may die. Please―"

Conner kicked his chair away from the desk in a violent fury. Frill almost stumbled back from the edge of the force field as his crew whimpered in a panic, but the human came nowhere near them. With long, storming steps he made for the door and disappeared into the corridor. There was silence for several seconds before a gentle hand rested on Frills shoulder.

"You tried, Captain." Shoola whispered, "Maybe we are being held for ransom. Maybe we won't be here much longer."

Frill's heart sank. It was the strict policy of the Bolian order to not negotiate with terrorists or kidnappers. Even now that he was looking at his own death, he could not really bring himself to argue with the rule. "Yes, I'm sure it won't be much longer." He lied, "See to the others and try to calm them. Encourage them to sleep―"

Shoola jumped when the door hissed open again and Conner stormed into the room. Both his hands were brimming with the straps of small red boxes. He dropped several of the boxes in front of him and slapped a control panel on the wall. The force field blinked out and fresh air rushed into the little prison.

Conner kicked the boxes across the floor and tossed the others forward with a disdainful crash. As soon as they had slid across the floor and came to a halt at the Bolians' feet, he reactivated the force field and backed toward the door.

A rush of gratitude made its way through Frill's fear, but he did not smile. That would not have been good. "Thank you."

Conner did not even acknowledge him. Instead, he stared at the floor for a few seconds, lost in thought, then turned and left the room once more.

The jumble of Bolians opened up as they reached for the boxes and exaimined their contents. Hyposprays and anti-bacterial ointments made the rounds, but Frill could see quite quickly that the tricorders had been removed from the cases.

"Captain," Came Shoola's surprised voice. "There's food. And water."

Frill looked down at her. She held in her lap two open med kits, but the typical contents had been removed along with the foam inserts. Instead, both cases had been stuffed with field rations and plastic water packs. His sore throat ached at the sight.

Shoola's dark eyes were glistening. "The human must have done it. That young human."

Frill nodded, trying not to look too happy. It would not due to get everyone's hopes up. "Very good. See that a ration is kept, Shoola." As he took a painful seat on the floor next to her, his eyes moved back to the closed door.

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Data was the last to enter the conference room. He had not meant to be late, but it had been only in the last half hour that he had seen an epiphany.

"Are you familiar with auto-immune implants?" Data asked as he moved immediately to the viewscreen. The question was quick and unintroduced, but Data was not quite feeling himself. He was on edge.

Crusher swiveled in her chair, "Yes, I've heard of them. They contain the information to make an anti-body for virtually every known curable disease."

"Correct, Doctor." Data pressed a few controls to activate the screen. A black and yellow diagram showed the simple outlines of a small, tubular object, which spun to show its full view. "This is a schematic of a class A auto-immune implant. It is the same model currently in use by the Bolian government to inoculate its deployed medical personnel. Every member of Captain Frill's crew should have received this implant."

Riker leaned forward on his elbows with an understandably confused expression. It wasn't like to Data to begin explanations in the middle. "What exactly does this thing do?"

Crusher sighed, "It's the best immune system you've ever seen, Will. Basically, it's a tiny computer that contains all the information known about every disease, as well as the mechanism for creating a matching anti-body. The implant scans its host every twenty or thirty hours, depending on the model, and notes any viruses that might be present. If there's a virus, it produces the appropriate anti-body on the spot and the host doesn't succumb to the illness."

Riker leaned back in his chair, astonished, "Forgive me for sounding naïve, but why isn't this something that everyone has?"

Data moved around the table to his seat, "The primary side-effect of the auto-immune implant is that it deteriorates the body's ability to produce its own white T cells. Eventually the host's immune system will be so crippled that it will no longer be able to use even the anti-bodies which the implant provides. It significantly shortens the host's life span." His eyes darted back to the implant schematic, for his usually inquisitive nature could not muster any interest in the history of the implant. That didn't matter. Getting back to the Martzy system mattered.

Crusher shook her head, "I never knew doctors as dedicated as the Bolians. They sacrifice twenty to forty years at the end of their lives to have that implant, just so that they never have to worry about breaking a quarantine. That's dedication."

"The Bolian high command only deploys doctors who have volunteered to have the auto-immune implant, so all of the hostages must be carriers. Captain, I believe that we can use these implants to rescue the hostages."

There was silence all around, for although they had struggled to figure out Data's point, it was difficult to see how this could help anyone but a sick Bolian. Picard sat up in his chair, "How?"

Data felt that weight again, strangely where his stomach would be, "The implants operate on a low radio wavelength, something that few shielding systems block. I believe that we can not only remotely activate the implants, but issue them specific commands as well."

There was a short silence as Picard's brow furrowed, almost suspicious, "To what end?"

Data rested his eyes on the table for only a moment. He had considered other plans, dozens of other plans, but that was the torment of hostage situations. Doing anything could get the hostages killed. Doing nothing could them killed. And this plan of his could most certainly get them killed. "To make the crew ill, Captain." Data said quickly, simply, "To make them extremely ill."