Planet X - Michael Jan Friedman [50]
Fortunately, subspace radio wasn’t nearly as limited as Troi’s empathic abilities. At this distance, it would only take a few seconds for a message to reach Xhaldia.
“Lt. Sovar,” said the captain. “Open a channel to Chancellor Amon.”
“Aye, sir,” the security officer replied.
Data, who was seated at Ops, turned to face Picard. He had a puzzled expression on his face.
“Sir,” he said, “there appears to be a vessel in orbit around Xhaldia.”
“A vessel?” Picard repeated. He eyed the viewscreen with new interest. “Why have we only now discovered this, Commander?”
“Judging from its position and the likelihood of a geosynchronous orbit,” said the android, “it was probably hidden from us by the planet.”
The captain frowned. This was an unanticipated complication.
“Maybe the Xhaldians requested assistance from someone else,” Riker suggested.
Picard shook his head. “Not likely, Will. The Breen are the only other presence in this part of space—and I don’t think the Xhaldians called on them for help.”
His exec grunted. “Good point, sir.”
The captain turned to his android second officer again.
“Maximum magnification, Mr. Data.”
A moment later, the image on the viewscreen seemed to jump closer to them—close enough to display a huge, rust-colored ship against a cloud-covered sweep of the planet’s surface.
Picard scrutinized the vessel. It was wide and relatively flat, with long, boxlike nacelles above and below it on either side, and its topsides were rife with a variety of impressive-looking weapon clusters.
It was possible the ship’s crew wasn’t especially warlike. But in the captain’s experience, vessels didn’t bristle with weaponry unless their occupants were eager to use it.
Picard glanced at Riker. “I’ve never seen this design before, Number One. Have you?”
“No, sir,” said his first officer.
Data worked his Ops controls. “I am unable to find a match for it in our computer files.”
“Captain,” said Sovar, “I cannot seem to raise Chancellor Amon. There appears to be a malfunction in the communications booster satellite.”
“Try another one,” Picard told him.
“I have, sir,” the Xhaldian assured him, an undercurrent of concern in his voice. “None of them seems to be working.”
The captain sat back in his seat and considered the evidence. An unexpected and hostile-looking ship in orbit around the planet. A malfunction in its only link to the outside universe. And all at a time when Xhaldian civilization was wracked by unprecedented chaos.
It could hardly have been a coincidence. The more Picard thought about it, the more it sounded like a premeditated act of aggression.
But how could the aggressors have known this would be a propitious time to attack? Did they have some insight into the emergence of the transformed? Or had they simply been scanning Xhaldia, waiting for the right moment—and seen the opportunity handed to them on a platter?
So many questions. So few answers.
The captain stroked his chin. “Yellow alert,” he said at last. “Shields up, Mr. Sovar.”
“Aye, sir,” came the response.
All over the ship, crewmen would be reporting to their section chiefs. Tactical systems would be checked. Silent glances would be exchanged by friends and colleagues.
But nothing would happen for several hours. After all, they had only recently passed the outermost world in the Antiacus system.
Picard wanted desperately to hurry, to come to the Xhaldians’ assistance just a little sooner. He could have managed that by activating the Enterprise’s warp drive—but it was too dangerous to go to warp so close to a star and its planets.
Normally, the captain would have sat there as patiently as he could, while the Enterprise homed in on beleaguered Xhaldia. However, he had some business to attend to.
“You’ve got the bridge,” he told Riker. “I believe our guests will want to know what is going on.”
Chapter Nineteen