Disclaimer: Highlander-style Immortals are owned by Davis/Panzer, and all Star Trek characters and their universe are owned by Paramount. They are used here without permission and (Lord knows) without profit.

 

They That Survive

By

HonorH

 

Prologue

Raymond Jackson was in a particularly good mood that evening. There was something so sweet about making money—not Federation credits, but real, gold-pressed latinum. Something about the feel of the metal in his hands and the knowledge that it was considered valuable on over two-thirds of the worlds frequented by humans gave him a sense of power. Besides, credits had such a nasty way of being traceable, and Jackson really didn’t want his more . . . exotic recreations to come to the attention of his superiors.

Not, of course, that he’d have been heartbroken about getting booted out of Starfleet. However, his current assignment on Tammerlane Station gave him an excellent opportunity to make the latinum currently weighing him down, not to mention the chance to spend said latinum on the diversions of Nueva Francisco.

Nueva Francisco was a pit of vipers, the type of place the Federation didn’t even like to admit existed. The streets of its main city ran between bars and brothels where one could buy entertainments most decent people could hardly imagine. Jackson, however, was not Decent People. He knew what he wanted. His steps took him on a well-worn route straight to a brothel called, of all things, "Earth Angels."

The exterior looked almost exactly like that of an old Victorian mansion, only gaudier. The inside had considerably less class.

"Hey, Ray," called a breathy alto. Jackson looked across at the woman reclining on a couch in the foyer. She gave him a drug-enhanced smile. "Back so soon, big boy? You just don’t get enough, do you?"

"Never have, never will," Jackson agreed cheerfully. "Tanzia in tonight?"

The madam got off the couch and walked over to her desk. "No, Tanzia’s sick. We just got in someone else you might be interested in, though, Ray. Her name’s Sabine, and she’s right up your alley."

Jackson was disappointed to learn Tanzia wasn’t in. The things that woman knew how to do . . . but maybe a change wouldn’t be so bad. "What’s this Sabine look like?" he asked.

The madam pulled out a video padd. It displayed the picture of the most gorgeous blonde Jackson had ever seen. "Interested?"

"Oh, yeah . . ."

A few minutes later, Jackson entered the room he’d been directed to. Each room had a different theme. This one seemed to be tropical. The "window" (really a viewscreen) in one wall looked out on a beach, and Jackson could hear the sound of waves crashing and the chittering of exotic insects. A "sea breeze" wafted the curtains, bringing with it the smell of salt air and flowers.

There she was. Standing against the wall, tall and pale in the "moonlight," wearing a barely-there bikini made up of scraps of cloth and a few strings. Her long, blond hair fell over her shoulders, and her eyes, when she turned them on Jackson, were an almost unreal shade of blue. This Sabine was even more beautiful than her picture had made her out to be. And that body . . .

She flowed gracefully away from the wall and toward Jackson. He realized suddenly that she was every bit as tall as him. She walked around him, seeming to study him, then stood still, allowing him to take her in. Breathtaking.

"What do you do?" managed Jackson. She was incredible.

She moved closer, those astounding blue eyes locked on his. "Let me show you."

Her breath smelled sweet, like honey and fruit . . .

~~~~~

A half-hour later, Justin Marchand turned as the door to his private cabin opened to let in his most prized operative. He smiled at her.

"So how did it go?" he asked.

Her eyes, a nameless, crystal shade of blue, lifted to meet Marchand’s face. "There’s nothing left to connect you to the deal."

"Good girl." Marchand’s smile was predatory. He stood and walked over to her. "Again, you prove your worth, Meela."

She didn’t change expression. In fact, she showed no expression at all. "I’m going to bed," she informed him quietly, and turned to leave the room.

Marchand’s smile never wavered. He closed his eyes, inhaling the sweet scent of her breath.



Chapter 1