And now--out of the frying pan...
Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
"From Risa With Love"
As Julian Bashir approached the top floor, he made sure to slow down—first, to conserve energy; second, to conserve any noise he might unintentionally make.
Finally, reaching the entrance, he slipped his footwear back on, and pressed his ear to the door.
He could hear…he estimated two men nearby.
He straightened up, swallowing hard. Well…here goes nothing.
He pressed the control on the door—and jerked to the side as it slid open, so the guards would see nothing but an empty stairway.
They had apparently frozen in anticipation at this…and were now waiting for what would come next. Bashir waited, not moving, not making a sound.
Finally, the door closed. He darted to the controls, pressing the control again, and rushed back to the side.
He could hear the two guards approaching, stopping a matter of feet away.
The door closed—and Bashir repeated the process.
At last, one guard stepped through, the other close behind.
Bashir swung his arm into the man’s jaw—sending him careening backwards into his associate. Thinking quickly, Bashir yanked the guard’s disruptor from his hand, shooting it at the other, who went down.
As he grabbed Guard 2’s weapon, Guard 1 clutched his ankle, tripping him. Bashir kicked back with his free foot, and the disabled man released him.
A disruptor in each hand, Bashir fired across the hall at a third man, who had looked like he was speaking into a comm unit while reaching for his weapon. He was out.
That looked like it was all, for now. Bashir checked his tricorder, and went on.
* * *
“Mr. Crolin, the doctor is—AGH—!”
Crolin yanked his comm unit off his belt. “What is it?”
Mr. Crant burst out laughing.
Crolin sighed. “It would seem the good doctor wants to make this as difficult as possible.”
Crant nodded, still chuckling.
“Ah, well. Deal with him, Mr. Crant.”
Crant grinned. “Gladly
* * *
It was simple enough to dispatch the other four guards he encountered as he turned a corner into another hall. But as far as Bashir was concerned, there might as well be twenty or thirty waiting for him at his destination.
However, it was quiet now. He swallowed hard, looking about him as he tread…ready for anything.
There was a door open in a room to his left. Now, that’s odd…the door from the stairway didn’t seem shorted out…why should that one be any different?
He frowned, taking a step forward, disruptors at the ready. He briefly looked inside. He saw and heard nothing. Bashir turned to go on his way—
And he froze at the voice of one Mr. Crant, as the barrel of a disruptor pressed into his back.
“Hello again, Doctor,” Crant said, a smile in his voice. “Now, I’d advise you not to do anything…stupid.”
Bashir sighed, shaking his head. He
was hiding in that room…only he did exactly what I’d done, keeping off to the side, staying silent until I’d passed. He probably had the toe of his shoe in the doorway until I went by—and he let
me keep the door open with my presence.
Well, whatever it was… “Looks like you’ve won this round, Mr. Crant,” he said, in a tone of false cheer.
“Looks that way, doesn’t it? Now…shall I take you to Crolin, without any further trouble?”
Weighing his options, Bashir dropped his weapons. “Well! At least this saves us some shooting along the way,” he quipped.
Crant chuckled. “All in good time. Right this way, if you please….”
* * *