Star Trek The Next Generation: Planet X

by Michael Jan Friedman

  “Picard delta theta!” the captain barked, completing Rager’s instructions. Then he turned to his tactical officer. “Mr. Sovar, report!”

  The Xhaldian studied his monitors. “We’ve taken hits to decks seven, eight, thirteen, and seventeen, sir. Shields down …” His eyes narrowed in disbelief. “… eighty-eight percent!”

  The captain swore beneath his breath. Eighty-eight percent with two volleys? At five hundred kilometers? It was unheard of. But, obviously, that was the kind of firepower they were up against.

  As Rager took them through one twisting turn after another, the Connharakt broke orbit and came after them. Its weapon ports seething with power, it looked for all the world like a predator moving in for the kill.

  Picard had other ideas, however. “Target phasers and photon torpedoes,” he told Sovar.

  “Targeted,” said the Xhaldian.

  The captain eyed the viewscreen, where the Draa’kon vessel loomed like an alien leviathan. “Fire!”

  The Connharakt was wracked with phaser fire and photon explosions. But it kept coming, undaunted, as if hadn’t been hit at all.

  “Several direct hits,” Sovar reported. “But they don’t seem to have had much effect. We barely put a dent in their shields.”

  Picard was tempted to fire again, but decided against it. His resources were limited, after all.

  He turned to Data. “Run an analysis of their shielding, Commander. Let’s see if there are any weak spots.”

  As the android got to work, the captain glanced at Rager. “Let’s give them a different look to contend with. Picard delta omega, Lieutenant.”

  “Aye, sir,” said the Conn officer.

  Rager began a new set of maneuvers … just as the Draa’kon unleashed another savage barrage. Most of it slid by them into the void, but a blast caught the edge of the saucer section.

  Suddenly, the bridge skewed hard to port, forcing Picard to grab Rager’s chair or be thrown to the floor. At the same time, one of the aft control panels erupted in a geyser of sparks. Immediately, a crewman grabbed a fire extinguisher and played it over the panel.

  “Shields are gone, sir!” Sovar called out.

  Feeling his jaw muscles flutter, Picard turned and eyed the viewscreen with renewed resolve. “Where’s my analysis, Mr. Data?”

  “I am almost finished,” the android replied. A moment later, he swiveled around in his chair. “As you suspected, sir, the overall toughness of the Connharakt’s shields comes at the expense of some weak spots elsewhere. These can be found behind all four of the vessel’s warp nacelles.”

  Picard clapped Data on the shoulder. “Good work, Commander.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” said the android.

  Picard turned to Rager. “We need to get behind them, Lieutenant.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  Without hesitation, the conn officer brought their nose up and avoided another Draa’kon volley—one that would have gashed them from stem to stern. What’s more, Rager stayed with the maneuver, bringing them directly behind the monstrous Connharakt.

  The captain could see the flares of cold blue fire lodged in the enemy’s nacelles. If Data’s analysis was accurate, they had an opportunity to turn the tide of battle.

  But it wouldn’t be there for long. “Target phasers!”

  “Targeted,” said Sovar.

  Picard gritted his teeth. “Fire!”

  Four ruby-red beams lanced out, two striking the nacelle on the upper right and the others striking the upper left. Both structures exploded in clouds of blue fury.

  But the captain wasn’t about to let up. Not when the Draa’kon’s next barrage might be the one that destroyed the Enterprise.

  “Fire!” he commanded.

  Again, four phaser beams pierced the enemy’s shields. Again, they elicited twin energy outbursts. But when the viewscreen cleared, Picard could see that only one of the remaining nacelles had exploded. The other was badly charred, but intact.

  Which meant the Draa’kon juggernaut could still move. And if it could move, it could hunt.

  Even as that thought crossed the captain’s mind, he saw weapons ports swivel on top of the Connharakt. “Get us out of here,” he told Rager. “Picard delta omicron.”

  But the Draa’kon were already striking back. A fierce, green light blanched out the viewscreen for a moment. Then the Enterprise was punished with the most devastating barrage yet.

  The captain was catapulted forward, flipping end over end. He hit a bulkhead with such force he felt himself black out for a moment. When he came to, the taste of blood strong in his mouth, he took stock of his bridge.

  The lights, still tinted by the red alert, were flickering on and off almost hypnotically. Two more of the aft consoles had exploded and were spewing sparks. And his people were strewn all over the place.

  With the exception of Data. Somehow, the android had managed to remain at his post. As Picard looked on, his second officer’s artificial fingers flew over his control board in a blur of speed.

  The captain knew what Data was doing, too. Having taken over the helm function, he was trying to keep the Enterprise in one piece despite the enemy’s intentions to the contrary.

  Dragging himself to his feet as his officers and Storm did likewise, Picard ignored his bruises and abrasions and glanced back at the viewscreen. It showed him the Connharakt, still dogging their heels, still unleashing volley after fiery, green volley.

  But for the time being, the android was eluding them. Taking advantage of the respite, the captain helped a shaken Lt. Rager to her feet and saw her back to her conn station. Then he turned to Sovar, who had only a moment earlier regained his position at Tactical.

  “Report,” Picard told him, as his first officer came to stand beside him.

  The Xhaldian glanced soberly at his monitors. “Weapons are offline,” he told the captain. “So’s the warp drive. The impulse engines have been damaged as well—there’s no saying how long they’ll last.”

  Picard scowled. Without shields, weapons, or the ability to go to warp, they were defenseless. The only thing keeping them from annihilation was their impulse drive, and that might abandon them at any moment.

  He needed to pull a rabbit out of his hat. And quickly.

  Suddenly, a voice rang out over the intercom system. “Captain, this is Commander La Forge. I’ve got an idea.”

  At that point, Picard was willing to grasp at any straw at all. “What is it, Commander?”

  “It’s Nightcrawler, sir,” said Geordi. “He may be able to teleport us onto the Draa’kon ship.”

  An intriguing idea, the captain conceded. But … “They still have shields,” he replied.

  “That’s just it,” the engineer told him. “Nightcrawler’s teleportation abilities don’t work the way our transporters do. He circumvents normal space by entering some other dimension.”

  The captain saw Geordi’s point. “If that’s so, he can get past the Draa’kon ship’s defenses—”

  “And perform a mission of sabotage,” Riker finished. “Maybe even bring their shields down, so we can get other personnel aboard.”

  Picard turned to Storm. “A possibility?”

  She didn’t look optimistic. “Kurt is no expert on alien technology. He would hardly know what to wreck. And even if he did,” she said grimly, “what you’re suggesting would be extremely dangerous for him.”

  “In what way?” Picard asked.

  “Kurt can only teleport over a distance of a couple of miles,” Storm explained. “And normally, he only aims for a destination he’s familiar with. Otherwise, he runs the risk of materializing inside something solid.” Her nostrils flared. “Or in this case, materializing out in space.”

  “Don’t forget,” Riker added, “the Connharakt will be a moving target. We’ll have to match her course and speed if Nightcrawler’s to have a chance.”

  Abruptly, the deck lurched under their feet. Apparently, the Draa’kon had found them w
ith another barrage.

  “Hull breaches on decks nineteen and twenty,” Sovar reported. “Commander Worf is coordinating repair teams.”

  “If there is any other way …” Storm began.

  “Storm … Ororo, please this may be our only chance,” Nightcrawler insisted over the intercom link. “I can do it, Captain. And someone can come with me to handle the technical end of it.”

  Storm eyed Picard. “You must understand,” she said, “Kurt and whomever he takes along may be adversely affected by the process.”

  “Adversely …?” the captain asked.

  “Sickened,” she said. “Exhausted. Perhaps to the extent that they will not be able to carry out their mission.”

  The first officer looked at Picard. “Not if it’s Data who goes along. He doesn’t get sickened or exhausted. And he’s got all the technical expertise we could ask for.”

  The android cast a glance at them, having overheard their conversation. “I would be more than happy to accompany Nightcrawler, Captain. That is, if you deem it advisable.”

  The captain considered it. The maneuver would require split-second timing, of course. And if it didn’t work, he would be dooming two good men. But if he didn’t try it, he might be dooming his entire vessel and its crew.

  “Very well,” he said at last. “If it is all right with your leader, I’ll take you up on your offer, Nightcrawler. You and Commander Data will attempt to disable the Connharakt’s shield generators.” He glanced at Storm and she nodded.

  “Aye, sir,” the android responded.

  As Data got up and was replaced by another officer at Conn, the captain turned to Riker. “Assemble some boarding teams, Number One—with a couple of X-Men present in each of them.”

  He gave Storm a moment to object to the idea. She didn’t. In fact, she seemed pleased.

  “I’ll want to lead a team myself,” said the first officer.

  “I expected no less,” Picard admitted. “See to it that each team targets a different tactical system. When I see the Connharakt’s shields drop, I will give the order to transport.”

  Riker nodded, then headed for the turbolift with Data in his wake. With a glance at the captain, Storm went with them.

  Picard almost asked her to stay behind, to continue as his advisor with regard to her compatriots. But then, as perhaps the most powerful being in their midst, she would be infinitely more useful as a member of one of the boarding parties.

  As the first officer passed the tactical station, he said, “You’re with me, Mr. Sovar.”

  The Xhaldian hesitated only long enough for another officer to take his post. Then he joined Riker, Data, and Storm as they entered the lift.

  “Captain,” said Nightcrawler, still speaking over the ship’s intercom, “if this is going to work, I’ll need a moment to familiarize myself with the Connharakt’s layout.”

  Again, the bridge staggered under the weight of a Draa’kon barrage. Picard glanced at the new tactical officer.

  “Additional breaches on decks thirty-one through thirty-three,” the man told him.

  The Enterprise couldn’t take much more of this, the captain thought. He looked to the intercom grid again.

  “Commander La Forge will show you our sensor data,” he told Nightcrawler. “Will that be enough?”

  The mutant grunted. “It will have to be, nicht wahr.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  DATA ENTERED ENGINEERING with a phaser in each hand. He found Nightcrawler and Geordi bent over the free-standing situations monitor.

  Halfway there, the deck pitched beneath the android, spilling him into a bulkhead. In fact, everyone in engineering was thrown off their feet.

  No doubt, the Draa’kon have breached the hull again, Data thought. He could smell the smoky odor of distant circuitry fires. It gave them all the more reason to hurry.

  “Data,” said Nightcrawler, helping Geordi to his feet, “I’m as ready as I will ever be.”

  “Good,” said the android, handing the mutant his phaser. “I, too, have assimilated all our information on Draa’kon ship design. Therefore, even if we do not materialize in the immediate vicinity of the shield generators, I am confident I will be able to find them.”

  Nightcrawler patted him on the back. “I like an optimist.”

  Data smiled. “Thank you.”

  “Commander La Forge,” came the captain’s voice over the intercom. “How much longer need we wait?”

  Geordi looked at Nightcrawler, then at the android. “We’re ready when you are, sir.”

  “Excellent,” said Picard. “Stand by. We are attempting a maneuver which will allow us to match the Connharakt’s course and speed.”

  Data didn’t know what that maneuver might be, but he was certain it entailed a great deal of risk. As Storm had said, Nightcrawler’s maximum range was only a couple of miles. At that distance, a direct hit would turn the ship into a blazing scattering of debris.

  “Ten seconds,” the captain warned them.

  Their timing would have to be excruciatingly precise, the android reflected. The slightest miscalculation …

  “Nine,” said Picard. “Eight. Seven. Six.”

  The android took up a position next to the mutant, who put his hand on Data’s shoulder.

  “Five. Four. Three,” the captain continued.

  Nightcrawler cleared his throat. “Here goes nothing.”

  Data sincerely hoped it was a joke.

  “Two,” said Picard. “One …”

  There was no sensation attached to the experience of teleporting alongside the mutant. At least, none that the android could discern.

  He simply found himself in a wide, high-ceilinged corridor he had never seen before, made of a dark metal he couldn’t identify. The place was illuminated with lurid, red lighting strips.

  And there was a smell of sulfur, of course—Nightcrawler’s trademark, apparently.

  Data turned to the mutant just in time to see his eyes roll back in his head, his powers having been taxed to their very limits. As Nightcrawler’s knees buckled, the android caught him and slung him over his shoulder as gently as possible.

  Then he headed down the corridor, hoping to get his bearings. After all, the mutant had done his job. Now it was up to Data to do the same.

  * * *

  His nerves taut, Riker stood alongside Storm, Shadowcat, Sovar, and a couple of other security officers and awaited word from the captain that the Connharakt’s shields were down.

  But with each passing second, the first officer’s hopes fell a little more. After all, Data and Nightcrawler had popped out of engineering almost three minutes earlier. The longer it took to hear from them, the less likely it was that they had accomplished their mission.

  Or even survived.

  It was easy to catalog all the bad things that might have happened to them, beginning with their never having reached the Connharakt in the first place and ending with a disastrous firefight in the shadow of the shield generators. Nor could he rule out any of those possibilities.

  Still, Riker chose to think positively. In all the years he had known Data, the android had never let him down—never failed to come through. With any luck, his record would hold this time as well.

  Suddenly, the captain’s voice broke the silence. “Captain Picard to transporter rooms one, two, and three. Effect transports immediately.”

  Inwardly, the first officer cheered. Data and Nightcrawler had worked their miracle, it seemed. The enemy’s shields had been stripped away, leaving them vulnerable to the Enterprise’s away teams.

  Standing at the transporter console, Lt. Demeter worked his controls quickly and efficiently. Riker braced himself for whatever he might encounter when he materialized on the Connharakt.

  But after a moment, nothing had happened. Cursing to himself, the first officer watched Demeter frown and try the transport a second time.

  “What’s the matter?” Riker asked.

  The transporter opera
tor shook his head, then looked up at the first officer. “Their shields are back up, sir,” Demeter reported miserably.

  No, thought Riker. It can’t be! Not after Data and Nightcrawler risked their lives for this. Not after they succeeded, for godsakes!

  What in blazes had gone wrong?

  * * *

  Worf looked around. He found himself in a wide, high corridor made of some dark metal, lit with blood-red strips. Banshee, Archangel, and the three security officers assigned to him stood alongside him.

  In accordance with his orders, the Klingon tapped the communicator on his chest. “Worf to Commander Riker,” he said.

  There was no answer.

  “Try again,” Banshee advised him.

  The Klingon did that. He obtained the same results.

  Then he tried the other team leader. “Worf to Commander Troi.”

  No answer there either.

  The Klingon didn’t like it. Riker had put together three teams so the Draa’kon would have several problems to deal with at once. If only Worf’s had gotten through …

  Then it occurred to him that it might simply be a communications problem. The Klingon tested the theory by attempting to contact Data.

  “Worf to Commander Data.”

  “I am here,” came the response. “Unfortunately, I believe our two parties are the only ones on board. Apparently, the Draa’kon have a redundant system of shield generators. Almost as soon as we disabled the primary generators, a secondary set took over.”

  The Klingon scowled at the way events had unfolded. Nonetheless, he resolved to make the best of it.

  “We will proceed according to plan,” he said.

  “Likewise,” the android replied.

  “Lovely,” said Banshee.

  Ignoring him, Worf studied the corridor in both directions. If he and his team had been beamed to the right location, his objective was down the passage to his right. At its end, there was a perpendicular passageway, right where he had expected to find it.

  “This way,” he said.

  Without comment, his comrades came along—with one exception. Archangel flew up ahead, no doubt to reconnoiter. A moment later, he came to the end of the hallway and veered out of sight.