Planet X - Michael Jan Friedman [86]
It was a man with wings, headed for the captain like a bird of prey. Struggling against the winds, Archangel reached for the pod’s observation port and touched it with one hand.
With the other, he gave made a sign: a thumbs-up. Mission accomplished, it seemed to say.
Then, his head lolling to one side, the mutant was ripped from the observation port and lost to Picard’s sight.
Fortunately, the captain still had a working transporter. Using his sensors to determine Archangel’s coordinates, he compensated for the speed of the mutant’s descent and obtained a lock.
Then he activated the transporter beam. A moment later, Archangel materialized in the aft part of the pod, exhausted but alive.
That accomplished, Picard turned his attention back to the missile. After all, it remained something of a threat. Though disarmed, it would crush whatever it hit when it reached the planet’s surface.
But now, the captain could drag it off course without fear of detonating its payload—and without having to worry about the friction of descent any longer. With that in mind, he applied his thrusters and set a course for the peaks of a nearby mountain range.
Finally, activating the pod’s autopilot, Picard left his seat and went to see to the winged man. As he knelt down beside Archangel, he saw the mutant’s eyes latch onto him.
“You … had your chance,” he breathed, “to get rid of me.”
The captain smiled and grasped Archangel’s hand. “Perhaps next time,” he said reasonably.
The mutant smiled, too.
Strange, Picard thought. A short while earlier, he couldn’t have thought less of the headstrong Archangel. Now, he had to count the mutant among the people he admired.
His smile broadened. Strange indeed.
Chapter Thirty-one
PICARD LEANED FORWARD in his chair. It had been less than a half hour since his return to the bridge, but he could already see his other shuttlecraft emerging from Xhaldia’s cloud-swaddled atmosphere.
First came the Onizuka, Commander Riker’s vessel. Then came the Pike, commanded by Counselor Troi. And finally the Voltaire, with Worf and his people aboard.
The away teams had done it, the captain acknowledged, with a certain amount of satisfaction. They had stopped the Draa’kon, or they would never have left the planet’s surface.
“Open a channel to the Onizuka,” Picard commanded.
A moment later, Riker’s visage graced the screen. He looked tired and dirty, but he was clearly in one piece.
“Good to see you again, Number One. What is the situation in Verdeen?” the captain asked.
The first officer sighed. “Four dead, sir—Wilkes, Calderon, Saffron, and Bertaina. But the Draa’kon have been stopped, and the transformed have been taken into custody. In most cases, they gave themselves up; in others, they’ll have to stand trial.”
Picard was willing to wait for the details, of which there would certainly be many. “We are making progress here as well, Will. Shields have been partially restored and Commander La Forge tells me forward phasers will be online momentarily.”
“That’s good news,” said Riker.
“Indeed,” the captain replied. “But we can brief each other more fully when you return. I’ll alert Shuttle Bay One to expect you.”
“Acknowledged, sir. I’ll pass that on to—”
Before he could finish, the first officer’s shuttle was rocked. Sparks spewed from its control console. And before Picard could determine the cause of it, the viewscreen filled with static.
Automatically, it returned to its previous perspective on Xhaldia and the shuttles. It was enough to tell the captain everything he needed to know.
Before his eyes, the Connharakt had begun to stalk the shuttles like a mammoth predator, its propulsion systems at least minimally functional again, and its weapons ports ablaze with destructive energy beams.
Somehow, the Draa’kon ship had powered up its engines without Picard’s knowing about it. And if he didn’t react quickly, his away teams would be blown out of