Planet X - Michael Jan Friedman [58]
Then he headed down the corridor, hoping to get his bearings. After all, the mutant had done his job. Now it was up to Data to do the same.
His nerves taut, Riker stood alongside Storm, Shadowcat, Sovar, and a couple of other security officers and awaited word from the captain that the Connharakt’s shields were down.
But with each passing second, the first officer’s hopes fell a little more. After all, Data and Nightcrawler had popped out of engineering almost three minutes earlier. The longer it took to hear from them, the less likely it was that they had accomplished their mission.
Or even survived.
It was easy to catalog all the bad things that might have happened to them, beginning with their never having reached the Connharakt in the first place and ending with a disastrous firefight in the shadow of the shield generators. Nor could he rule out any of those possibilities.
Still, Riker chose to think positively. In all the years he had known Data, the android had never let him down—never failed to come through. With any luck, his record would hold this time as well.
Suddenly, the captain’s voice broke the silence. “Captain Picard to transporter rooms one, two, and three. Effect transports immediately.”
Inwardly, the first officer cheered. Data and Nightcrawler had worked their miracle, it seemed. The enemy’s shields had been stripped away, leaving them vulnerable to the Enterprise’s away teams.
Standing at the transporter console, Lt. Demeter worked his controls quickly and efficiently. Riker braced himself for whatever he might encounter when he materialized on the Connharakt.
But after a moment, nothing had happened. Cursing to himself, the first officer watched Demeter frown and try the transport a second time.
“What’s the matter?” Riker asked.
The transporter operator shook his head, then looked up at the first officer. “Their shields are back up, sir,” Demeter reported miserably.
No, thought Riker. It can’t be! Not after Data and Nightcrawler risked their lives for this. Not after they succeeded, for godsakes!
What in blazes had gone wrong?
Worf looked around. He found himself in a wide, high corridor made of some dark metal, lit with blood-red strips. Banshee, Archangel, and the three security officers assigned to him stood alongside him.
In accordance with his orders, the Klingon tapped the communicator on his chest. “Worf to Commander Riker,” he said.
There was no answer.
“Try again,” Banshee advised him.
The Klingon did that. He obtained the same results.
Then he tried the other team leader. “Worf to Commander Troi.”
No answer there either.
The Klingon didn’t like it. Riker had put together three teams so the Draa’kon would have several problems to deal with at once. If only Worf’s had gotten through …
Then it occurred to him that it might simply be a communications problem. The Klingon tested the theory by attempting to contact Data.
“Worf to Commander Data.”
“I am here,” came the response. “Unfortunately, I believe our two parties are the only ones on board. Apparently, the Draa’kon have a redundant system of shield generators. Almost as soon as we disabled the primary generators, a secondary set took over.”
The Klingon scowled at the way events had unfolded. Nonetheless, he resolved to make the best of it.
“We will proceed according to plan,” he said.
“Likewise,” the android replied.
“Lovely,” said Banshee.
Ignoring him, Worf studied the corridor in both directions. If he and his team had been beamed to the right location, his objective was down the passage to his right. At its end, there was a perpendicular passageway, right where he had expected to find it.
“This way,” he said.
Without comment, his comrades came along—with one exception. Archangel flew up ahead, no doubt to reconnoiter. A moment later, he came to the end of the hallway and veered out of sight.
The Klingon didn’t object. In fact, he approved of the mutant’s scouting-out their prospects.
It made sense for each of them to use his or her talents