Planet X - Michael Jan Friedman [17]
“They have some unusual talents,” said Riker. “One of them can teleport himself around. Another one can dent duranium with a single punch, and the youngest can travel through solid matter.”
“I heard one of them can fly,” Robinson told him.
The first officer chuckled. “Like a bird.”
“Hard to believe a man can do that,” she said.
Riker shrugged. “Not when you put them in context.”
Robinson looked at him. “Context, sir?”
“Think about some of the other beings we’ve run into in our travels. Take Q, for instance.”
Their frequent visitor from the Q Continuum had demonstrated his amazing powers for them time and again. Once, he had even granted the first officer a taste of them.
“Or the Traveler,” he continued, “who can manipulate the very fabric of space and time. And don’t forget the Douwd, who was able to wipe out an entire race with a single thought.”
Riker wasn’t done. In fact, he was just warming up.
“Then we’ve got the Founders of the Gamma Quadrant, who can reshape themselves into anything they can imagine. And our own Mr. Data—who’s as fast or powerful as any of the X-Men.”
The transporter operator smiled. “Actually, I was thinking more in terms of other humans.”
He looked at her. “What makes you think the X-Men are human?”
“Well,” said Robinson, “they’re from Earth, aren’t they? Maybe not our Earth, but something a lot like it?”
“They’re from Earth, all right,” Riker confirmed. “But apparently that doesn’t make them homo sapiens. As I understand it, some people consider them a different species entirely.”
The lieutenant absorbed the information. “Interesting.”
Suddenly, she looked down at her control console. “They’re on their way,” she reported.
Just then, the doors to the room slid open and Worf walked in. He nodded to the first officer and took up a position beside him.
“Come to renew old acquaintances?” asked Riker.
The Klingon grunted. “I seem to be doing that a lot lately.”
Before he had finished his comment, the transporter platform came alive with a half-dozen pillars of sparkling light. In a matter of moments, they solidified into Data, Troi, and four of the X-Men—Nightcrawler, Banshee, Colossus, and Wolverine.
The first officer smiled at them. “Welcome aboard.”
Nightcrawler stepped down from the platform. He walked with that strange, bowlegged gait Riker remembered.
“Vielen dank,” said the mutant. “It’s nice to be aboard.”
“Worf,” grunted Wolverine.
Coming forward, he held his hand out to the Klingon. Worf grasped it enthusiastically—and no wonder. In their last meeting, he had developed quite a respect for Wolverine’s prowess as a warrior.
“You are well?” asked the Klingon.
“Well enough,” the mutant told him. “Ya don’t have a brig on this bucket, do ya?”
Worf’s brow creased. “In fact, we do. Why do you ask?”
Wolverine waved away the question. “Never mind. Now that I’m here, howzabout you show me that game you were tellin’ me about—the one we didn’t have time to play last time?”
“Game?” said the Klingon.
“Yeah, what’d ya call it … some kind o’ holowhoozis?”
Worf suppressed a grin. “Ah, yes. My calisthenics program on the holodeck.”
The mutant pointed to him. “Yeah. That’s the one.”
He hooked Troi by the arm.
“Hey, Counselor—wanna join us fer some calisthenics?”
Troi sighed. “Maybe another time.”
As she moved away, Wolverine leaned closer to the Klingon. “Is it me, or has the counselor gotten a little stuffy all of a sudden? She needs to lighten up—be more like you, Worf.”
“Please clear the platform,” said Robinson. “Captain Picard and the others are ready to beam over.”
Banshee sighed and motioned to Colossus. “Come on, Piotr. I think we’re standin’ in th’ way o’ th’ fast lane.”
As Riker watched, they stepped down and stood alongside their teammates. A moment later, three more columns of light appeared. In short order, they gave way to Picard, Storm, and Shadowcat.