Planet X - Michael Jan Friedman [4]
There was also a short, stocky specimen, in yellow and blue garb and an elaborate, yellow and black mask. Though Palmieri knew of races whose people went hooded for cultural or religious reasons, he had a feeling this was something else—some kind of disguise.
A strange group indeed. But it wasn’t just the strangers’ appearances that made him wary. It was where and how they had shown up—in an obscure part of the starbase, without any kind of warning or prior notice.
Clearly, their appearance was linked with the blinding flash that had taken place a moment earlier—and the flux build-up that had accompanied it. It was too much of a coincidence for Palmieri to believe otherwise.
But what was the connection? Who were these people?
“Stay right where you are,” he barked.
He trained his phaser on the intruders. They didn’t seem to have any weapons in hand, but that didn’t mean they weren’t armed—or dangerous in some other way.
“Careful,” said the one with the wings on his back. “That looks like a weapon he’s holding.”
“I believe Archangel’s right,” the one with the tail chimed in.
With the hand that held the palm light, the security officer tapped his communicator. “Palmieri to Chief Clark. Trouble on level ten, section four—request backup.”
Help would be on its way in a matter of seconds. All he had to do was hold these people until then.
The man in the mask took a couple of steps toward Palmieri. “How about ya put that toy away, Sparky, and tell the ol’ Canucklehead what kinda fryin’ pan we landed in?”
Frying pan? thought the security officer.
He remained calm and aimed his weapon directly at the stocky stranger. “I told you to stay where you are!”
“Or what?” asked the masked man. “You’ll slap my wrist? Lemme tell ya, bub, I been slapped by bigger and better.”
I warned him, thought Palmieri. Pressing a stud on his phaser, he hit the stranger square in the chest with a ruby-red beam, sending him flying backward into the arms of his companions.
What happened next turned the security officer’s knees to jelly. The biggest of the strangers, who had looked perfectly normal to that point, suddenly grew even larger, produced a skin of shiny armor plating, and interposed himself between Palmieri and the others.
The security officer could think only one thought: shapeshifter!
That would mean the strangers were Dominion agents—all of them. And they’d had the gall to materialize right in the middle of the station, as if they somehow owned the place.
Palmieri grated his teeth as he tried to remember what he’d learned about changelings. Did phaser beams even have an effect on them? And if they did, at what setting?
“Stop,” said the shapeshifter. “We have done nothing wrong.”
Suddenly, the security officer heard a pop, and realized one of the strangers had disappeared. As the scent of sulfur reached him, he realized it was the one with the dark-blue skin.
But where had he gone? Back to whatever vessel they had come from—even without the benefit of a temporalflux incident? And why hadn’t the others gone with him?
Before Palmieri could come up with an answer, he felt something grab him from behind and spin him around. Before he knew it, that same something had ripped his phaser from his grasp.
Only when it was over did he realize it was the stranger with the tail who had disarmed him. Instinctively, Palmieri took a swing at him, but the stranger did a backflip and avoided it.
“Drop it!” came a shout from Palmieri’s right.
Turning, he saw that it was Chief Clark who had voiced the warning. Phaser in hand, she was entering the cargo bay with a half-dozen armed security officers right behind her.
Reinforcements, Palmieri thought. And none too soon.
“Lights,” said Clark.
Instantly, the cargo bay was illuminated. Palmieri could see the intruders better than ever—but it didn’t prepare him for what came next.
One of the strangers—the younger of the two females—began to sink right through the floor. One of the other security officers fired at her, but the phaser beam