Free Black Fire by Sonni Cooper

wish you killed. We are very much alike, you and I."
    "Aye," Scott acknowledged, "verra much. We dinna have ta be enemies, IIob. The Federation would be willin' ta discuss a treaty wi' Tomarii."
    "That may be true, Montgomery," the general conceded. "I understand that, but I know my people. There is no chance of a treaty. We are dedicated to conquer and fight. It is our way."
    "Even though there may be another way?" The Scotsman leaned on the spear, not really expecting a reply from IIob. But as a Starfleet officer, he was honor-bound to try to reach the Tomariian, in spite of the evident futility of bridging the gap in cultural values.
    Scott observed the approach of the advance parties from the other ships. Each was preceded by a Romulan, dressed in skins as he was and carrying a spear with a battle flag attached. A brief last-minute war council was held and the troops were deployed.
    The first surge of battle caught the people of Paxas by surprise. The small settlement directly in the path of the oncoming Tomariian force was completely devastated. To Scott, the enemy seemed unprepared for the attack. The residents of the planet seemed to be simple farmers with crude weapon potential. It was all too easy a victory for the violence-loving Tomariian warriors. With success easily in their grasp, IIob's soldiers enjoyed the pillage immensely. The next day they planned to attack a major city on the continent on which they had landed. They caroused all night in Tomariian fashion, eating and gambling.
    Carrying the battle flag put Scott in the forefront of the next day's battle. He was disgusted by the blood-lust displayed by the Tomariian soldiers. More unnerving still was the realization that the wounded Tomariians were not being treated, nor did they seem to have any medical personnel in their company. The badly wounded were dispatched much like their enemies, with hardly a second glance.
    Suddenly, the tide of the battle turned. The Paxans advanced in great numbers with weapons much like phasers. The Tomariian force was stopped, then turned back in full retreat.
    Scott dropped the spear he was carrying and prepared to defend himself with the phaserlike weapon at his belt. The two Romulans were behind him, preparing to do battle with their spears. Sub-Commander Placus was nearest Scott when the Paxan defense force caught up with the retreating invaders. The Tomariians dropped their useless spears and knives and began using the more sophisticated backup weapons.
    Scott pushed Placus, who was inadequately armed, behind him. Both watched helplessly as Delus fell. IIob led the final surge to the gantry, leading his men back to the safety of the ship. Scott felt a stab of pain in his right shoulder just as he went through the hatch. He regained consciousness in the ship with a concerned Placus at his side.
    "Wha' happened?" the dazed Scotsman asked, trying to rise.
    "You were hit by one of the Paxan's darts."
    "Wha' did they use? I feel groggy." He gave up trying to sit as a wave of nausea took hold.
    Placus shook his head. "I can't see anything but a small wound in your shoulder. The dart is still embedded."
    "Aye," Scott moaned, "an' makin' me feel like the mornin' after a binge. We've got ta get it out. Can ye manage it?"
    The Romulan looked incredulous. "Surely the Tomariians have a physician who can remove the object."
    "I doubt it," Scott replied. "Haven't ye noticed? They dinna treat their own wounded. Those who can, make it on their own. They permit the others ta die, or kill 'em …" Then he lost consciousness again.
    The Romulan had never had to treat a fallen comrade. He stared down at the wounded human, the unfamiliar splotch of red on Scott's shoulder unnerving him. When Scott regained consciousness, he encouraged Placus to take the risk of removing the dart.
    "Well, laddie, I'm in as much trouble if ye dinna get the thing out as if ye do. It's makin' me feel verra odd. I dinna know how long I can keep alert enough ta