Planet X - Michael Jan Friedman [54]
“The counselor’s talents are most impressive,” Picard agreed. He gazed at Troi, still concerned about her. “Are you certain you’re all right?”
“I’m fine,” the Betazoid told him. “Really.”
“Impressive is not the word for it,” the mutant said. “Professor Xavier is the most powerful telepath on Earth, and even he requires mechanical aids to detect minds miles away.”
On the screen, the alien vessel loomed larger and larger. The counselor only had to look at it to be reminded of the brutality within.
“Five thousand kilometers,” Rager said dutifully. “Four thousand. Three thousand. Two—”
“All stop,” Picard commanded.
As Rager cut power to the impulse engines, the Enterprise came to a halt. According to the monitor in Troi’s armrest, they were a mere five hundred kilometers from the alien vessel—and no further from Xhaldia than her solitary moon.
The captain sat back in his seat. “Hail them, Mr. Sovar.”
The Xhaldian looked surprised, but he did as he was told.
For a moment or two, there was no response. Then Sovar looked up from his control console.
“Their Implementor wishes to speak with you,” he told Picard.
The captain stood and approached the viewscreen. “Put him through,” he told the lieutenant.
In the next instant, a dark and formidable-looking visage confronted them. The alien’s head was round and massive with bulblike structures protruding from its forehead, and it lacked anything even vaguely resembling a neck. Its skin was leathery, its yellow eyes long and slitted like a lizard’s.
The counselor swallowed. There was no pity in the alien’s expression, no inclination toward compromise. Still, she knew Picard had to attempt to achieve a peaceful solution.
“I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard,” he said, “commanding the U.S.S Enterprise. I’ve come in response to—”
“I am Isadjo,” the alien growled, showing a maw full of short, sharp teeth, “High Implementor of the Draa’kon vessel Connharakt. You will go back where you came from, or we will most certainly destroy you.”
Chapter Twenty
PICARD CONSIDERED HIGH Implementor Isadjo. Obviously, the Draa’kon wasn’t one to beat around the bush.
But then, neither was the captain of the Enterprise.
“We have no intention of going back where we came from,” he replied almost matter-of-factly. “Not until we have assured ourselves that Xhaldia is safe and secure again.”
The High Implementor made a derisive sound. “You will have reason to wish you had decided otherwise, Captain Jean-Luc Picard.”
Then he cut off the communication. Immediately, his image was replaced by that of his ship.
“Sir!” said Sovar. “They’re firing at us!”
“Evasive maneuvers,” the captain told Rager. “Picard delta—”
Before he could get the rest of it out, the deck pitched wildly beneath him. It sent him staggering into Data. As he disengaged himself from the android, the ship lurched again—even worse than before.
“Picard delta theta!” the captain barked, completing Rager’s instructions. Then he turned to his tactical officer. “Mr. Sovar, report!”
The Xhaldian studied his monitors. “We’ve taken hits to decks seven, eight, thirteen, and seventeen, sir. Shields down …” His eyes narrowed in disbelief. “… eighty-eight percent!”
The captain swore beneath his breath. Eighty-eight percent with two volleys? At five hundred kilometers? It was unheard of. But, obviously, that was the kind of firepower they were up against.
As Rager took them through one twisting turn after another, the Connharakt broke orbit and came after them. Its weapon ports seething with power, it looked for all the world like a predator moving in for the kill.
Picard had other ideas, however. “Target phasers and photon torpedoes,” he told Sovar.
“Targeted,” said the Xhaldian.
The captain eyed the viewscreen, where the Draa’kon vessel loomed like an alien leviathan. “Fire!”
The Connharakt was wracked with phaser fire and photon explosions. But it kept coming, undaunted, as if hadn’t been hit at all.
“Several direct hits,” Sovar reported.