Maker - Michael Jan Friedman [64]
Picard looked to Refsland. It took the lieutenant a second or two to check the results in the other transporter rooms. Then he raised his gaze to meet the captain’s.
“All done, sir.”
Picard nodded. “Helm,” he said, “withdraw.”
“Aye,” said Idun over the intercom.
As she pulled the Stargazer back out of transporter range, Picard’s thoughts were with the Magnians, who were in for the fight of their lives—and then some.
He just hoped their confidence was not misplaced.
As Brakmaktin slept, Nikolas wrestled with his invisible bonds. However, they were still too strong for him. All he managed to do was rub the skin off his wrists.
Cursing under his breath, he slumped back against the wall behind him and closed his eyes. There’s got to be a way to get Brakmaktin, he told himself. I’ve just got to think of it.
Suddenly, Nikolas sensed that something had happened in the cavern. He didn’t know what it was or how he knew, but he was certain of it—and it made him sit up and open his eyes.
That was when he saw that the place was crawling with people. Human-looking people, all of them armed with phaser rifles. And the nearest of them, a man with a red moustache, was signaling for him to be quiet.
Damned right I’ll be quiet, Nikolas thought.
Then, with a jolt of fear, he realized that he shouldn’t be thinking anything. Not when it might rouse his monstrous captor from his sleep.
The newcomers spread out, nearly surrounding Brakmaktin on three sides. Then, with a nod from the redhead, they brought their weapons up to eye level, intending to catch the monster in a crossfire so he would have nowhere to go.
Nikolas didn’t know who these people were, or what gave them the confidence to face Brakmaktin, but it was contagious. The human’s hopes, all but dashed by then, rose a little. He started to embrace the possibility, no matter how unlikely, that his nightmare might yet be coming to an end.
It was then that he saw Brakmaktin’s eyes open.
Nikolas didn’t know if the Nuyyad had caught one of his thoughts, despite his efforts to submerge them. He might simply have sensed the threat closing in around him. Whatever the reason, he woke from his slumber and glared at his enemies.
But the newcomers were ready. Before the monster could do anything, they opened fire.
Suddenly, Brakmaktin was beset by a swarm of crimson beams. They stabbed at him, battered him, illuminating the entire cavern with the savage splendor of their destructive energy.
But, sad to say, they never reached him.
Less than a meter away from their target, the beams stopped short and splashed back. And though the newcomers kept on firing, their barrage never got any closer to Brakmaktin.
It was as if he had erected a deflector shield to ward off the invaders’ fire. But deflectors were maintained by state-of-the-art machines, drawing on the power generated by the clash of matter and antimatter. Brakmaktin was creating these all by himself.
And a moment later, he showed Nikolas that he was capable of doing more than imitating a starship’s defenses. He was capable of imitating its weaponry as well.
Because the energy bursts that leaped from his fingers weren’t the nets of blue lightning that the Nuyyad had cast at the Ubarrak earlier. Somehow, as impossible as it seemed, they looked and acted like phaser blasts instead.
And they didn’t miss. They skewered the invaders unerringly, without fail.
But somehow, the invaders remained standing. Was it because the beams weren’t as powerful as they looked? Or because the invaders were more so?
Nikolas had no way of knowing. But as he watched, the situation changed—and for the worse. Brakmaktin’s barrage started beating the invaders back. Then knocking them off their feet. Then slamming them against the walls of the cavern.
It was then, as they were pinned against the coarse surface of the rock, that the invaders began to scream.
And for good reason.