Planet X - Michael Jan Friedman [71]
“… by the vegetable market,” one of the Xhaldians was saying. “Just a couple of blocks from here. There are five or six of them.”
“You will show us,” one of the Draa’kon insisted.
“Be glad to,” the Xhaldian told him. “You’ll be doing us a favor, taking those monsters away with you.”
“That’s right,” said one of the other Xhaldians. “They’re freaks. They don’t belong among decent people.”
“And we’re not the only ones who think so,” the third Xhaldian added.
It wasn’t just their fear talking, the counselor realized. They really felt that way about the transformed.
Colossus’s brow knotted and he swore beneath his breath. “I have heard enough of such talk to last me a lifetime,” he whispered.
Troi pulled her head back. “We’ve still got to help them,” she told the mutant. “That’s what we came here for.”
He grunted, his expression still heavy with indignation. “It is always that way, is it not? They hate us, they revile us, and yet we help them anyway.”
The Betazoid felt his pain. She felt his deep, abiding bitterness. But she also felt his resolve to see their mission carried out.
“You will have difficulty getting close to the Draa’kon,” she said. “Perhaps I can stun them from here.”
Colossus shook his head. “That will not be necessary,” he replied.
Then he dug his metallic fingers into the wall in front of them. When he withdrew them, he had wrestled two chunks of it free.
“I, too, can operate at a distance,” the mutant told her.
Troi looked at the chunks of building material in his hands and nodded appreciatively. “Yes,” she said, “I suppose you can.”
“What are we waiting for?” Colossus asked her.
The counselor shook her head. “Nothing at all.”
Then they turned the corner and went after the Draa’kon together.
Crouched behind a pile of disruptor-blasted rubble, Data picked his head up for a moment, took aim, and squeezed off a shot. He saw his phaser beam miss a Draa’kon and strike a surviving wall beside him instead, showering the android’s intended target with tiny fragments.
A moment later, the enemy returned his fire, destroying half of the debris protecting him. Before they could destroy the rest of it, Data gathered his legs underneath him and dove full-length for a bigger pile nearby.
Again, he drew a barrage of green disruptor bolts, but none of them hit his artificial body. Rolling to a stop, he waited until the barrage was discontinued. Then he raised his head again and reconnoitered.
Perhaps twenty of the Draa’kon had hunkered in the ruins of a couple of buildings they had all but leveled earlier. Beyond them, penned in by the aliens on one side and a sudden, steep hillside on the other, was a structure that sheltered an indeterminate number of Xhaldians—more than likely, some of the transformed.
From what the android had seen since his arrival planetside, the Draa’kons’ perferred tactic was to herd the transformed—driving them from street to street or building to building—and then to capture the youths en masse. Their objective, as Storm had speculated on the Enterprise, seemed to be to take the transformed back with them to the Connharakt.
Why? Data had had a few moments to contemplate the question while his shuttle was descending, and he believed he had come up with some answers. However, there was no time to refine his theories at the moment. He and his comrades, under the leadership of Commander Worf, were too busy attempting to spoil the Draa’kons’ kidnapping plans.
On the android’s right, Banshee opened his mouth and blasted the remnants of a wall, exposing a pair of surprised Draa’kon soldiers. Without hesitation, Data skewered one with a discharge from his phaser. But several other beams failed to hit the second invader, and he lumbered to safety.
Then, as if the attack had annoyed them, the enemy emerged from cover all together and hammered the Starfleet officers’ positions. The resulting volley was nothing short of devastating. What’s more, it caught two of the android’s comrades by surprise.
Jerking and spinning under the influence