When his vision cleared, he was greeted by a sight that made all his experiences to that point seem commonplace and mundane. A large vehicle of some kind was blocking half the street. Nearby, three bulky, alien figures in battle armor seemed to be standing guard while two others carried unconscious Xhaldians toward the vehicle.
Erid recognized the unconscious ones. They were two of the transformed who had escaped from the fortress with him—the woman who turned invisible and the man who could grow twelve feet tall.
He didn’t understand. What was happening? Who were the aliens?
Suddenly, he heard Paldul’s words in his head. They throbbed with urgency, forcing Erid to hold his head in pain.
“Someone’s found us,” thought the telepath. “They’ve broken into the first building and dragged our comrades out. The rest of us have to get away while we still can.”
“Can’t we fight them?” Erid wondered back, his heart beating hard against his ribs.
“You don’t understand,” Paldul thought, his anxiety coming through in waves. “They’ve got stun weapons that put to shame those we saw in the fortress. We’ve got no choice but to run.”
Erid opened his eyes and saw that Corba had been subjected to the same painful announcement. She looked at him.
“Wehavetogo,” she rasped.
“Yes,” he said.
They pulled on their clothes as quickly as they could, then ran down the hallway and found the stairs. Erid’s legs felt heavy, unresponsive. Corba could have sped ahead of him if she had wanted, but she lingered so she wouldn’t leave him behind.
On the stair, they found two of the other transformed—Inarh and the woman who drew energy from things around her. They glanced at Erid and Corba, but they didn’t say anything. They just made it down the stairs as quickly as they possibly could.
When they reached the ground floor, they crossed the common area and headed for the building’s back door. Corba got to it first. She peeked through the oval window set into it, then turned to the rest of them.
“It’sclearbackhere,” she said.
That was all they needed to hear. The four of them burst out of the door, followed the alley behind it to a perpendicular alley, and got as far away from the building as they could.
Erid wondered what had happened to Leyden and Denara. For all he knew, they had been among the first contacted by Paldul, since they were among Rahatan’s favorites. If that were so, they were out on the streets already, concealing themselves from the aliens.
In any case, he couldn’t worry about them at the moment. Not when he had his hands full worrying about himself and Corba.
Propelled by fear, Erid ran as quickly as he could on his leaden legs—and he didn’t look back. Not even once.
Chapter Seventeen
THE MOMENT SOVAR’S, shift ended, he went looking for Robinson. He felt he had to share what he had learned with someone, and the transporter operator was his closest friend on the Enterprise.
As it happened, his search took him to Holodeck Two, where Robinson had booked an hour’s worth of time. When he got there, he found out her program was already in progress.
Sovar stood outside the interlocking doors for a moment, wondering whether or not to interrupt his friend. After all, it might have been a personal fantasy Robinson was pursuing in the holodeck, and he didn’t want to intrude on something like that.
On the other hand, he didn’t think he could wait an hour. He had to talk to someone now.
Accessing the holodeck controls, the security officer opened the jigsaw-puzzle doors. As they slid apart, he caught a glimpse of a figure standing with her back to him.
She was wrapped in a purple cloak, the hem of which moved in a gentle wind. Beyond the figure, framed by columns of shadow-blue marble, distant peaks blazed in the fierce, golden light of sunset.
A scent of flowers and honey came floating out to Sovar on the breeze. Drawn by it, he took a step forward into the holoscene and realized it wasn’t just the columns ahead of him that were made of blue marble. So were the floor under his feet and the peaked ceiling above him.
The holodeck doors closed behind him, wrapping him completely in the illusion. Here, a simple, stringed instrument rested on a wooden stand. There, a silver pitcher and two silver goblets stood on a table. And in a third place, a dark velvet divan stretched like a Terran cat.
The figure in the cloak turned and reacted to his presence. It was Robinson, of course. She smiled at him, looking a little embarassed.
“Marble halls,” she said, as if that were explanation enough.
Suddenly, Sovar understood. His friend had created the place from the words of Banshee’s song—minus the vassals and the serfs, apparently. What’s more, she had done a breathtaking job of it.
But he hadn’t come here to admire her skill with a holodeck. He had something much more pressing on his mind.
“B.G.,” he said, “I did not wish to interrupt your scenario, but something has happened on my homeworld. Something almost …” He tried to find the right word. “… unimaginable.”
Robinson’s brow creased. “What is it?”
He told her about the development of strange abilities in young people all over Xhaldia. He talked about the fear that had gripped the planet’s people when they discovered superbeings in their midst. And he spoke of the reaction of their leaders.
“The government must have become frightened, too,” Sovar related, “because it incarcerated these beings. They said it was for the protection of the transformed, but—”
“The transformed?” asked Robinson.
“It is what the superbeings are being called,” he explained. “In any case, the government’s action backfired. The transformed broke out of the fortress at Verdeen and disappeared.”
“I don’t blame them,” said his friend.
“No,” said the security officer. He took a step toward her. “You don’t understand, B.G. There are thousands of people in the vicinity who are neither superbeings nor armed guardsmen, but ordinary Xhaldians—people whose lives are at risk.”
Robinson nodded. “And you’re afraid for them.”
“Yes.” He sighed. “The government has called for assistance from the Federation. Though Xhaldia is not a member planet, it has ties—”
“I know,” she said gently.
Of course, he thought. He had described them to her himself.
“The Enterprise,” he said, “was the vessel closest to my homeworld. We are on our way to Xhaldia now … to see if we can accomplish what Verdeen’s guardsmen cannot.”
“To round up the superbeings?” Robinson asked.
“Yes. And to re-establish order.”
His friend came closer and held him by the arms. “How did you find all this out, Relda?”
He sighed. “Commander Riker told me—with the captain’s permission, of course. Captain Picard will inform the rest of the crew in a little while, but he wanted me to know first.”
His friend nodded. “That was—”
Before she could finish her statement, there was a flash of blown diodes, and an entire section of the sunset-painted mountains behind Robinson blinked out of existence. In its place, Sovar could see a naked portion of the black and gold hologrid.
The transporter operator shook her head. “What the—?”
Suddenly, someone stepped out of the disabled grid section. Someone who, after Sovar got over his surprise, looked a lot like Shadowcat.
Looking a little puzzled, the mutant gazed at the two officers. Then she turned around and studied the place where the scenery was missing. At last, she turned back to Sovar and Robinson.
“Sorry about that,” Shadowcat said. “I was on my way to Deck Eleven. Lt. Barclay was going to show me the computer core—I’m kind of interested in computers—and …” She shrugged. “I guess I got lost and blew a few circuits. I mean, I do that when I pass through a system that uses electricity, so usually I’m really—”
Sovar held up his hand. He was filled with anger. After all, the mutant had intruded on a very personal conversation—whether by accident, as she claimed, or by design.
“We have heard your explanation,” he told her. “Now leave us.”
Shadowcat frowned. “Okay,” she said. “Be that way about it.” Without another word, she melted back through the section of exposed hologrid.
The security officer turned to his friend. “Do you think she overheard what I said about our mission?”
Robinson shook her head. “Hard to say. But I wouldn’t worry about it too much. The captain’s going to tell the whole crew soon, right? So it’s not exactly as if she uncovered a secret.”
Sovar thought about it. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Besides,” his friend said sympathetically, “it sounds like you’ve got enough to worry about”
* * *
Captain Picard touched a pad on his keyboard and eyed the monitor just above it. Instantly, the screen displayed the shuttle diagnostics he had ordered several minutes earlier.
Right on time, he thought. But then, he had served with Commander La Forge for a long time, and he knew no one was more punctual.
Normally, Picard wouldn’t have been quite so concerned about shuttlecraft readiness. However, according to the information he had received from the Enterprise’s computer, Xhaldia’s atmosphere was rife with energy fields which would disrupt normal transporter operation—or subspace radio waves, for that matter.
The shuttles were by no means as efficient an option as the transporters would have been. The captain would be limited in terms of how many security officers he could deploy to the planet’s surface, and how quickly. However, he would have to make do.
Just then, he heard the chimes that signified the presence of a visitor outside his ready room. He leaned back in his chair and faced the door.
“Come,” Picard said.
A moment later, the door opened, revealing Commander Riker. But as the first officer entered the room, Picard saw the man wasn’t alone.
Storm walked in after him. Then came Banshee and Wolverine. One by one, the X-Men took up positions on the opposite side of Picard’s desk, each with the same determined expression on his or her face.
“They wanted to see you, sir,” said Riker.
The captain nodded. “Thank you, Number One.” He turned to the mutants. “Would any of you like a seat?”
Storm shook her head. “No. Thank you.”
Resting his elbows on the armrests of his chair, Picard made a steeple of his fingers. “All right, then. What can I do for you?”
Banshee looked to Storm. So did Wolverine.
“Go ahead, ‘Ro,” said the mutant in the mask.
Storm regarded the captain. “It is very simple,” she said. “We would like to help.”
Picard didn’t understand. “Help … ?” he replied.
“On Xhaldia,” said Banshee.
The captain nodded. “I see.”
However, it wasn’t clear to him how his guests had gotten wind of the situation there. His orders to the crew wouldn’t be posted for half an hour.
Riker looked at him. Obviously, he had the same question on his mind.
The first officer turned to the X-Men. “Tell me,” he said, “how did you know about that?”
Storm shrugged. “Shadowcat was on her way somewhere when she overheard two of your officers in conversation. However, she told me she was not eavesdropping and I am inclined to believe her.”
“What’s it matter how we know?” asked Wolverine. “Like Ororo says, we wanna lend a hand.”
“Y’see,” Banshee explained, “these transformed … we feel a kinship with ‘em. We were like ‘em once, changin’ in ways we did nae understand.”
“Fortunately for us,” Shadowcat added, “we had Professor Xavier. He gave us a direction.”
Storm nodded. “But it is unlikely that there is a Charles Xavier on Xhaldia. The transformed will be scared, confused … and, unless I am very mistaken, hated and feared for what they have become.”
“Someone needs t’ reach out to ‘em,” Banshee elaborated. “I know I’m doing it back home.” He smiled in his charming, homey way. “Someone needs t’ give these kids a leg up, before they hurt someone or get hurt themselves. An’ since we’re here, it’d be a shame t’ give anyone else th’ job.”
“In other words,” Picard replied, “you would like to offer your services in dealing with the transformed on Xhaldia.”
“In other words,” said Wolverine, “yet darn tootin’ we would.”
The captain weighed the request. “You know,” he replied at last, “I generally depend on Counselor Troi in matters of empathy, and she has yet to fail me in that regard.”
Storm frowned. “No doubt. But there is a difference between knowing how someone feels and how someone is going to feel.”
“Tell ‘im, ‘Ro,” said Wolverine.
“We can deal with the transformed based on years of experience,” the silver-haired woman went on. “Your counselor may sense their initial shock, but she cannot know the despair that is likely to follow in its wake. Or the self-loathing. Or the bitterness.”
“And, the transformed could be dangerous,” Wolverine pointed out. “In a way yer not used ta dealin’ with. But we are.”
“That’s a fact,” Banshee agreed.
As Picard considered the X-Men’s comments, he eyed his first officer. “What do you think, Number One?”
“You know,” said Riker, “they have a point, sir. In all deference to Counselor Troi and our security team, they do have more experience with this sort of thing.”
The captain regarded the mutants. “Normally, I don’t allow my guests to take part in Starfleet business. In this case, however, you appear to have a genuinely unique insight into the condition of the transformed.”
“Just like I was tellin’ ya,” said Wolverine.
“Also,” said Picard, “I have seen you and your comrades in action—and in a situation as serious as this one, I would be foolish not to arm myself every way possible.”
Banshee grinned. “Then we’re partners?”
Picard shook his head. “Not nearly.”
Wolverine’s eyes narrowed. “But you said—”
“I will call on you,” the captain told him, “only if and when I deem it necessary—and even in that event, you will obey my every directive.”
The mutant didn’t look at all happy with Picard’s answer.
But Wolverine’s reaction didn’t faze the captain in the least. “I command this vessel,” he continued evenly, “and I will brook no other arrangement.”
Banshee’s smile faded a bit. “We’re used t’ operatin’ on our own, y’know. That’s th’ way we’re most effective.”
Picard nodded. “I understand completely—but it doesn’t change anything. If you hope to participate in our mission, you must take your cue from me. There is no alternative.”
The muscles worked in Wolverine’s temples. Banshee’s smile disappeared altogether. But it was Storm who finally replied.
“If those are your terms,” she said with equanimity, “we accept.”
Chapter Eighteen
PICARD CONSIDERED THE tiny, blue-green sphere pictured on the viewscreen in front of him. The planet was hardly bigger than the pinpricks of light that served as a backdrop for it.
“Xhaldia,” said Riker, who was sitting in his customary position on the captain’s right.
Picard nodded. Then he looked to his left, where Counselor Troi was leaning forward in her seat, a tiny knot of concentration at the bridge of her delicately chiseled nose.
With the planet still a good several hours away at full impulse, the Betazoid would be unable to sense anything about the Xhaldians or their current situation. Her empathic talents simply didn’t extend that far.
Nonetheless, Troi remained intent on the forward viewscreen. Despite the vast distance between the Enterprise a
nd her destination, the counselor instinctively continued to reach out, attempting to feel what the embattled Xhaldians were feeling.
Fortunately, subspace radio wasn’t nearly as limited as Troi’s empathic abilities. At this distance, it would only take a few seconds for a message to reach Xhaldia.
“Lt. Sovar,” said the captain. “Open a channel to Chancellor Amon.”
“Aye, sir,” the security officer replied.
Data, who was seated at Ops, turned to face Picard. He had a puzzled expression on his face.
“Sir,” he said, “there appears to be a vessel in orbit around Xhaldia.”
“A vessel?” Picard repeated. He eyed the viewscreen with new interest. “Why have we only now discovered this, Commander?”
“Judging from its position and the likelihood of a geosynchronous orbit,” said the android, “it was probably hidden from us by the planet.”
The captain frowned. This was an unanticipated complication.
“Maybe the Xhaldians requested assistance from someone else,” Riker suggested.
Picard shook his head. “Not likely, Will. The Breen are the only other presence in this part of space—and I don’t think the Xhaldians called on them for help.”
His exec grunted. “Good point, sir.”
The captain turned to his android second officer again.
“Maximum magnification, Mr. Data.”
A moment later, the image on the viewscreen seemed to jump closer to them—close enough to display a huge, rust-colored ship against a cloud-covered sweep of the planet’s surface.
Picard scrutinized the vessel. It was wide and relatively flat, with long, boxlike nacelles above and below it on either side, and its topsides were rife with a variety of impressive-looking weapon clusters.
It was possible the ship’s crew wasn’t especially warlike. But in the captain’s experience, vessels didn’t bristle with weaponry unless their occupants were eager to use it.
Picard glanced at Riker. “I’ve never seen this design before, Number One. Have you?”
Star Trek The Next Generation: Planet X Page 12
