Planet X - Michael Jan Friedman [41]
His minister stroked his chin. “The challenge, of course, is to find the transformed and recapture them. Mind you, they’ve had nearly a day to hide themselves, and they’ve probably split up in a dozen different directions. However, we’ve had no reports of stolen hovercraft, so they may still be in the vicinity.”
“Near Verdeen?” Amon suggested.
“Perhaps in Verdeen,” said Tollit. “Some of them, at least—though we haven’t gotten word of any sightings.”
The chancellor nodded. “Do whatever you have to. And keep in mind, we are no longer dealing with a group of innocents. They have become capable of violence—even if it is we who are responsible for that change in them—and they must be treated accordingly.”
The minister understood. “We will consider them dangerous.”
Amon sat back in his chair. “Keep me informed of developments as they occur, all right?”
Tollit agreed that he would do that. Then he signed off.
The chancellor massaged the bridge of his nose with the fingers of one hand. Blood of the ancients, he thought. I hope Minister Tollit has better luck with the transformed than I did.
Captain Picard had meant to visit Dr. Crusher for the last several hours. However, it had taken him longer than he had expected—or wished—to record his latest round of captain’s logs.
Now, his duties done, he emerged from the turbolift closest to sickbay and followed the bend in the corridor. Because of that bend, he failed to see Storm coming from the other direction until the silver-haired woman was almost on top of him.
She appeared to be as surprised as he was. “Captain Picard,” she said, smiling pleasantly.
“Stor—” he began to say in response … then remembered that she preferred he call her Ororo. “I take it you’re just coming from your appointment with Dr. Crusher?”
The mutant nodded. “That is correct. Mine was the last such appointment.”
“And did her studies turn up anything useful?” Picard asked.
Storm shrugged. “Perhaps. The doctor told me it is difficult to say until she has had a chance to go over the data.”
“Of course,” he said. “I just thought she might have—”
Suddenly, the captain heard something—a loud whoosh, getting closer and closer at an alarming rate.
He spun around just in time to see a red-and-white missile headed straight for him. By the time he realized it was Archangel, he had already ducked and watched the mutant sweep past him.
“Stop right there!” Picard bellowed after his guest, his voice echoing commandingly from bulkhead to bulkhead.
Archangel didn’t seem to have heard him at first. He simply continued on his way, speeding almost effortlessly down the hallway.
Then, with a splaying of his large, white wings, the mutant slowed himself. Turning gracefully despite the tight quarters presented by the corridor, he came speeding back in the captain’s direction.
This time, Picard resolved, he would not flinch. He would stand his ground, no matter how much it looked as if Archangel would plow right into him.
As it turned out, the captain need not have been concerned. Before the mutant had covered half the space between them, he spread his wings again and landed on the floor.
Picard felt a surge of anger. He tried to throttle it, but it resisted his best efforts.
“You asked to see me?” Archangel inquired, a superior-looking smirk on his face.
Picard regarded him. “You have been drawing attention to yourself with your antics since you set foot on this ship. And before that, you did the same on Starbase 88. I have seen enough of it,” he said. “I want it to stop!”
The mutant looked at him as if he had just grown wings of his own. Then he turned to Storm.
“Is he serious?” Archangel asked her.
“You are having this conversation with me,” the captain declared. “And since you asked, I am very serious. Shadowcat and Nightcrawler don’t use their powers on the Enterprise—why must you?”
The mutant shook his head. “Kitty and Kurt don’t have wings, Captain Picard. Do you know how it feels to be confined to this … ,”his month twisted, “this ship of yours, when everything inside you yearns