Planet X - Michael Jan Friedman [15]
The admiral nodded. “You see, we had some trouble with your friend Wolverine last night. I was forced to incarcerate him.”
“You put him in the brig?” Picard asked.
“That’s correct,” Kashiwada replied. “Reluctantly, of course. However, it was necessary if we were to maintain order on the base.”
“I see,” said the captain.
“Can we go see Storm now?” asked Shadowcat.
“We are doing our best to make progress,” the admiral told her. “If people stop flying by and floating out of the floor, perhaps we will actually arrive at our destination someday.”
Shadowcat started to say something, but Nightcrawler held a hand up. “Admiral Kashiwada is right,” he said. “The sooner we leave him alone, the sooner he and our friends here—”
Out of the corner of his eye, Picard saw a blur of red and white. He knew what it was this time, but it was still disconcerting to see it bear down on him and then zip just over his head.
“—will get where they’re going,” Nightcrawler finished, as Archangel negotiated a bend in the corridor and sped out of sight.
“Okay,” said Shadowcat. Without another word, she walked into the bulkhead and vanished.
A moment later, Nightcrawler disappeared as well. In his place, he left a small implosion of air and a scent not unlike brimstone.
Kashiwada let the captain see his suffering for a fleeting moment. “A most stimulating group indeed,” the admiral said.
Picard didn’t answer. He just followed Kashiwada to his ready room. Without any further interruptions, it was a journey of but a few minutes.
As they entered the admiral’s sanctum, the captain saw that Nightcrawler, Shadowcat, and Archangel were there already. So were Storm, Banshee, and Colossus, as well as a dark-haired woman in a gold and black Starfleet security officer’s uniform.
The pips on the woman’s collar told Picard she wasn’t just any security officer. She was in charge of that function here on the starbase.
“Captain Picard,” said Storm, rising from her chair. “I am glad to see you.” She acknowledged the captain’s colleagues. “And you as well.”
Colossus and Banshee got up, too. The former was in his human state, so he didn’t tower over the others in the room by quite so much.
“There has been a problem with Wolverine,” Colossus noted, not one to beat around the bush.
“Aye,” said Banshee. “Or rather, there was a problem. But it’s over now, so there’s nae reason for him t’ be sittin’ in that silly wee brig.”
Picard knew the X-Men could have prevented their comrade from being incarcerated if they had wished to—or freed him any time they wanted. Yet they had allowed Wolverine to be taken to the brig and to languish there.
In a way, they were doing what the captain would have done in the midst of an alien culture. They were showing respect for their hosts by trying to obey the laws set out for them.
Picard turned to Kashiwada. “Admiral? Do you have any objection to Wolverine’s being set free at this time?”
“None,” Kashiwada said reasonably. “As long as the fellow doesn’t linger here on the base.” He glanced at his security chief. “Lt. Clark, would you be so kind as to see to Wolverine’s emancipation?”
The woman nodded. “Aye, sir.”
Archangel’s wings beat once, quickly.
Storm glanced at him with her blue eyes, seeming to know what the gesture meant. “What is it, Archangel?”
“Wolverine isn’t too fond of Lt. Clark. After all, she was the one who phaser-blasted him.” He turned his cold, almost haughty gaze on the security officer. “No offense.”
“None taken,” said Lt. Clark, though her expression said otherwise.
Storm turned to Picard. Her look was an appeal for help—a request that he not put her in the position of intervening.
“If it’s all right with you,” the captain told Kashiwada, “perhaps Counselor Troi could accompany the lieutenant. She has, after all, established something of a rapport with Wolverine.”
Not that much of a rapport, Picard knew. However, the counselor had been trained to defuse explosive situations, and this had the possibility of becoming one of them.
The admiral thought about it for a moment. “Lt. Clark,