Star Trek: Gifts of the Gods (part 2) (standard:Fan Fiction, 2047 words) [2/2] show all parts
Author: Trek Fan	Added: Jun 29 2003	Views/Reads: 2868/2001	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Kirk and crew arrive at Shroud IV, where Harry Mudd is rumored to be selling illegal information. He's not going down without a fight, though.

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“We were just passing through the sector and thought we'd stop in for a
drink.” Kirk looked the mammoth creature over, convinced that it was 
more than a match for he and his men if the odds had been even. But the 
odds weren't even. 

“Federation no welcome here—“ 

“I think you should just let us pass without incident.” 

The creature followed Kirk's glance toward the two security guards,
positioned a few meters behind, thumbing anxiously at their phasers. It 
took what seemed like hours of internal deliberation, but the creature 
finally resigned itself and stepped to the side. It was obviously 
irritated at being threatened, but not so much that it was ready to 
quarrel over it. It did, however, have one piece of advice for the 
Federation men. 

“Some are less forgiving than I. You go in, but not come out alive.” It
gave a hearty, gruesome laugh and disappeared back through the doorway. 


“Well this is going to be interesting,” McCoy chided. 

The three crossed carefully over the threshold. 

Inside, there was a sense of alien comfort. The room was large and
well-lit, full of tables and chairs. A vast assortment of 
indecipherable languages covered posters and advertisements along the 
walls, and just as many varieties of alien patrons sat drinking and 
talking at the tables and bars. Kirk instantly noticed a group of 
Andorians, three Gorn, and a large concentration of Romulans. Most of 
the other aliens were unknown to the Federation, some of which were not 
even humanoid in appearance. 

“Well, Mudd shouldn't be too hard to locate in this haystack of
avarice.” McCoy shook his head and looked around. 

“Indeed, Doctor, you are correct in spite of your sarcastic demeanor. I
have already located one additional human life form, previously hidden 
from tricorder sensors by some sort of low force energy shield, coming 
from over there.” Spock pointed in a general direction, but nothing 
human could be seen through the mass of alien bodies. 

As the officers made their way across the crowded floor, they found
their target just as Spock had predicted. Harry Mudd was sitting at a 
table in the corner of the bar, directly across from two Romulans and 
another, less savory creature whose racial identity was unknown to 
them. Kirk and Spock moved forward through the crowd and confronted the 
group with a quick, efficient element of surprise. 

“Harry Mudd. Well, Spock, what are the odds?” Kirk asked his first
officer dramatically. 

“The odds were precisely one million, three hundred and twenty thousand,
five—“ 

“We get the point, Spock.” 

“Kirk! Long time no see, old friend. I'm just conversing with some old
friends, but you're more than welcome to leave if you have some qualm 
with my presence here.” Mudd shuffled in his chair nervously, as did 
the unidentified creature across the table from him, but the Romulans 
remained cool and stoic. 

“Captain Kirk, I suggest that you and your officers find a table at the
other end of the bar and enjoy yourselves without further interruption 
of this table. Otherwise, I fear that you will be met with unwelcome 
force.” One of the Romulans, a subcommander by his rank insignia, 
leaned forward and grit his teeth. 

“Unfortunately, I can't do that. My friend Harry Mudd here has been
accused of acquiring with intent to sell Starfleet weapons technology 
on Shroud IV. I can't imagine who could possibly be interested in 
buying these illegal weapons,” he gave them a second of silence to let 
that sink in, “ but we have no immediate concern for their identities. 
We're only interested in detaining Mudd for questioning right now.” 

“Are you accusing my colleagues and me of attempting to buy stolen
weapons, Captain?” The Romulan subcommander stood up and pushed his 
chair away. Immediately thereafter, taking the cue from his commanding 
officer, the second Romulan jumped to his feet. 

“I accuse only Harry Mudd of violations against Starfleet.” Kirk stood
his ground. 

“But you insinuate that I am involved in these underhanded dealings as
well...” The subcommander again grit his teeth. 

“I might have. That's not my concern right now, unless the transaction
has already taken place...” 

Kirk saw it coming, but was too late to do anything about it. The
subcommander's fist landed squarely across his jaw, sending him 
careening into the table behind him. Sounds filled the air around him, 
cracking wood, breaking glass, spilling alcohol, screaming aliens, and 
the beating of his own heart. Kirk shook the blurriness from his eyes 
and rolled back onto his feet as McCoy and Spock raced past him, 
tackling the Romulans. Harry Mudd raced from the scene, headed for the 
only exit. Kirk watched him go, certain that his two security guards on 
post outside would apprehend Mudd on sight. His only concern now was 
getting his men back outside the bar, where they could re-establish 
communication with the Enterprise and beam out. The same energy field 
that had prevented their locating Mudd until inside it also prevented 
communicators and transporters from getting them out of it. 

Spock grabbed the subcommander and spun, using his body as a leverage
point, throwing the Romulan cleanly across two tables and onto the 
stone floor. The second Romulan grabbed for his disruptor pistol, only 
to find a full bottle of red Talosian wine smashing into his head and 
sending him to the floor next to his commander. McCoy stood over the 
fallen lieutenant, holding the broken neck of his wine bottle 
victoriously in the air. 

The third alien made a deadly move for Spock, who had turned his back on
the creature in order to assault the Romulan solider, bearing in its 
talons a large, silver blade that it had torn from a leather sheath on 
its belt. The beast flew at its target with wicked agility, bearing a 
mouthful of cragged teeth and an odious green, forked tongue. It lunged 
at Spock, the knife coming down hard at the fleshy area between the 
Vulcan's neck and right shoulder. Kirk delivered a perfectly timed kick 
that stopped the blow short, however, sending the knife and its wielder 
spinning wildly into a crowd of onlookers. 

The place was now in upheaval. The diverse alien presence of the lounge
now merged into one great arena-like formation, with bodies of 
spectators coming together all around the six combatants like great 
walls preventing escape from their merciless engagement. Blows came 
left and right, with punches thrown, kicks delivered, and weapons 
grappled for. The flowing, silvery tunics of the Romulans, the yellow 
and blue command shirts of the Federation officers, and the green 
scales of the reptilian creature all meshed into one great ball of 
aggression as the bloodthirsty crowd around them cheered and turned up 
their glasses to the bout. Credits were hastily exchanged as bets were 
made on each participant, based on odds of survival. Most of these bets 
were in favor of Kirk, Spock, and McCoy. After all, with odds stacked 
so highly against the Federation men, a fortune of credits would be 
owed to anyone who bet on one of these men, assuming they could somehow 
find a way to survive! 

Kirk caught the Romulan lieutenant in the jaw with his elbow, sending a
thick splash of green blood onto some of the currency exchangers 
standing a few feet away. He quickly followed the elbow smash with a 
punch to the temple, sprawling the cringing alien out on the floor. 
Spock wheeled around and slammed into one of the metal support columns, 
having been kicked in the head by the reptilian mercenary, but had 
managed to instantaneously deliver a low punch to its torso in a 
successful counterattack. McCoy was pounding the subcommander 
repeatedly in the face in an effort to get out from under his attacker, 
who had him pinned on the floor. Kirk wiped a streak of blood from his 
chin and pulled the Type I phaser from his hip. One shot knocked the 
Romulan off McCoy and into a crumpled pile of waste next to the dazed 
physician. Spock stumbled over to his Captain and nodded. It was time 
to get the hell back to the ship. 


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