“A Touch of Darkness”
Episode 69
Prologue
Altorus V was not a remarkable world. By most
accounts, the backwater planet was too far removed from the tumult of galactic affairs
to be considered valuable; it possessed no valuable resources, and its feeble
denizens made poor slaves. As far as
Xi'Yor was concerned, it was not worthy of his attention—and as his vessel
entered the Zhargosia Sector, the Overseer had no intention of visiting the
world.
Then, nearly three cycles ago, a fortuitous encounter with an
El-Aurian changed everything. According
to the ancient listener, a birdlike alien had been seen frequenting a small
tavern in Altorus V’s primary business district. Since avian species were rare, instinct told Xi'Yor that the
seemingly unremarkable planet might hold some interest to him after all…
Because the business district was small, locating the
aforementioned tavern proved a simple task.
Talyere, though rather inept at the controls, was able to locate the
structure after only a few moments of searching—and Xi'Yor was nearly
disappointed. Had his bumbling
colleague wasted any more of their precious time, that certainly would have
been sufficient grounds to terminate the pedantic fool. Alas, Talyere’s demise would simply have to
wait… at least until they returned from the tavern.
When compared to the noble elegance of an
Elorg structure, every alien structure appears decrepit—thus, Xi'Yor’s
expectations for the tavern were low to begin with. However, as he materialized inside the facility, it soon became
apparent to the Overseer that even his lowest expectations were far too high…
A dreadful stench hung in the stagnant air;
according to Talyere, it was the smell of meat in an open fire. Xi'Yor was not surprised that lower species,
such as humans and their allies, would resort to such savagery—but the very
thought of ingesting such things made Xi'Yor feel ill.
Though the rancid stench was indeed
offensive to Xi'Yor, the tavern’s many patrons proved even more offensive. Never in his life had Xi'Yor seen such a
collection of simpletons. Species from
more than a dozen Alpha Quadrant worlds were congregated at the tavern’s myriad
tables, and most of them appeared to be less than reputable. Why these cultures resisted Elorg rule was
beyond Xi'Yor’s ability to comprehend; things would have been much
different—much better—had his victory not been denied; all these lower forms of
life would have been terminated long ago.
But perhaps another time…
Slowly, Xi'Yor worked his way toward the bar
in the center of the facility, mildly hopeful that the bartender—a
sinister-looking Ferengi—would be of assistance. However every barstool was occupied, making access to the Ferengi
difficult—but not impossible. The
Overseer swiftly approached a puny Bajoran and placed a firm hand upon the
alien’s shoulder and said, “Move.”
The Bajoran quickly came about and drilled a
disapproving gaze into Xi'Yor’s skull.
“Sorry,” he said evenly, “I was here first. There are a few empty tables over by the—”
“That was not a request,” Xi'Yor stated,
tightening his grip on the Bajoran’s shoulder.
“If you fail to comply with my order, I shall personally remove you—and
it will not be a pleasant experience.”
“Yeah,” said the Bajoran. “I’ve heard that before.” He chuckled, and
started to shrug Xi'Yor’s hand away—but the Overseer did not budge.
“It is unfortunate that you are of no use to
me,” said Xi'Yor as he reached for his disruptor. “You would have made an excellent prisoner.” And without so much as a second’s thought,
he trained the weapon upon the Bajoran and fired, watching with perverse
pleasure as the violet beam of jagged light streaked into the Bajoran’s back.
The Bajoran gasped in surprise, for he
obviously did not expect to be terminated.
Of course, as he crumpled to the floor writhing in pain, he was, no
doubt, wishing death would overcome him a bit sooner. Xi'Yor smiled, kicked the Bajoran aside, and assumed his seat at
the bar. “Ferengi,” he called.
Within a few moments, the insidious little
Ferengi stood across from Xi'Yor, his curious eyes carefully inspecting the
Overseer and his comrade. “What can I
get you gentlemen?”
Xi'Yor drew himself nearer to the
Ferengi. “I require information,” he
said.
The Ferengi nodded agreeably, and quickly
drew a padd from his belt. “What kind
of information?” he inquired.
“An El-Aurian recently informed me that a
birdlike alien has been frequenting your establishment. Where is he?”
“A birdlike alien,” repeated the Ferengi as
he stared at his padd. “That will cost
you five strips of gold-pressed latinum.”
Xi'Yor’s eyes narrowed. “I have no currency,” he replied. “Just give me the data I require, or you
shall join your Bajoran patron on the floor.”
“I believe the price is open to
negotiation,” said the Ferengi.
“I am not.”
Xi'Yor swiftly raised his weapon and pointed it at the evasive little
Ferengi, but before he could pull the trigger, he felt a firm hand fall upon
his shoulder. Xi'Yor swiftly turned
around, expecting some sort pedantic speech from Talyere—but was instead
greeted by an angry Bajoran’s fist.
The fist crashed straight into the
Overseer’s jaw, cracking bone and loosening teeth. As waves of pain surged through his racing mind, Xi'Yor could
barely hear the Bajoran’s angry taunts. “That’s for Nakal!” he cried;
presumably, Nakal was the pedantic fool terminated only a few moments earlier.
The reminder of Nakal’s death brought a
smile to Xi'Yor’s face, and he could not help but chuckle. “It was my pleasure,” Xi'Yor replied. His jaw was definitely damaged, but
he had endured worse. “And it will be
my pleasure to terminate you, as well.”
And on that note, Xi'Yor fired his
weapon—and quickly realized that life was indeed fragile. The Bajoran was dead even before he hit the
floor. “A pity,” Xi'Yor groused. But he
did not have time to reflect upon his actions—for those very actions seemed to
have stimulated aggression in all those around him.
Talyere was engaged in battle with two lanky
Andorians. Several Nausicaans—seven,
perhaps eight—were incensed by the excitement, and immediately began to attack
the Andorians, and anything else that moved.
Before long, the entire bar was engaged in mortal combat. Phaser beams streaked across the room and
into the ceiling—one errant beam managed to strike the Ferengi bartender,
carving a bloody cavity into his chest.
Not wanting the Andorians to have the
pleasure of terminating Talyere, Xi'Yor made haste to assault them. Knowing he would be unable to engage both
Andorians simultaneously, he chose to focus on the smaller of the two. It took a good four punches before the
Andorian realized he was under attack, but before he could retaliate, a rogue
barstool slammed into the Andorian’s head.
Xi'Yor heard a loud snap—and the Andorian plummeted to the floor. With one target out of the way, Xi'Yor
swiftly moved onto the next…
…And amidst the bloody chaos, a lanky,
hooded alien quietly slinked out of the tavern…