Planet X - Michael Jan Friedman [87]
Even as he thought that, his bridge jerked under the impact of a Draa’kon barrage.
“Transporter Room One,” the captain said, his voice taut with urgency. “Prepare to beam our people off those shuttles.”
The response came almost instantly—but it wasn’t the one Picard had been expecting.
“I can’t, sir,” replied Lt. Robinson. “That last impact took the transporters offline.”
The captain’s teeth ground together in frustration. He had to try something else.
“Lt. Rager,” he barked, “position us between the Connharakt and the Onizuka!”
After all, the Onizuka had already been hit. And by the look of her, she had been hit hard.
The conn officer did as she was told. A moment later, the Enterprise darted into the fray, shielding Riker’s shuttle from further fire.
Unfortunately, Picard could protect only one of his craft at a time. And with the state his shields were in, he couldn’t do it indefinitely.
A disruptor bolt pounded the Enterprise, sending a tremor through the ship. The captain turned to Ensign Suttles.
“Return fire!” he snapped hopefully.
The ensign checked his monitors, then looked up. “We can’t, sir. The phasers are still offline.”
“Shields down to twenty percent,” Rager reported.
On the viewscreen, the two other shuttles were taking advantage of the distraction to escape. But before they could get very far, the Connharakt stabbed the Pike with a disruptor beam—sending her flying sideways, a trail of plasma emissions in her wake.
“They’ve crippled her,” the captain breathed, accepting what he knew to be a deadly fact.
The Pike was easy prey for the Draa’kon now—a sitting duck—and even if Picard wanted to leave Riker’s craft unprotected, there was no way he could reach her sister shuttle in time.
“Captain,” said Suttles, his voice suddenly full of excitement, “we’ve got forward phasers!”
Without hesitating, Picard pointed to the viewscreen, where the hulking Connharakt dwarfed Counselor Troi’s tiny shuttlecraft. “Target,” he cried, “and fire!”
The taste of blood in her mouth, Troi tried to lift herself offthe deck of the Pike. Abruptly, she felt a strong pair of hands pull her up the rest of the way.
Turning, she saw that it was Colossus who was providing the assistance. He wasn’t just lifting her, either. He was using his metallic body to shield her from a shower of hot sparks.
The shuttle’s cabin was in disarray, her control panels sputtering, plumes of smoke wafting forward from the ruin of her propulsion system. However, everyone was still alive.
At least, for the moment.
“Are you all right, Counselor?” asked Lt. Glavin, one of the security officers who had accompanied her to Xhaldia’s surface.
“She’s just fine,” Wolverine interjected. He eyed Lt. Stephenson, the shuttle’s helmsman. “Now, if it’s okay with you, soldier, I’d just as soon get outta here before those bozos lambaste us a second time.”
“I’d be glad to,” said Stephenson, “if we still had engines, or even thrusters. But that blast threw everything offline.”
Troi peered out the forward observation port, where the Draa’kon vessel blotted out halfthe stars. In a matter of moments, its disruptor beams would lance out at them again and finish the job they started.
Suddenly, the counselor saw the Connharakt raked with blood-red phaser beams. The Draa’kon ship’s shields seemed to flicker under the impact.
It gave Troi an idea. It was a longshot, granted, but nothing short of a longshot would save them at that point.
She approached a small secondary console in the aft quarters of the shuttle. Its side was blackened, but it seemed basically intact.
The counselor tried to touch it, but it was too hot for her to handle. She turned to Colossus, whose metallic body seemed capable of withstanding almost anything—including intense heat.
“Hurry!” she told him. “I need you!”
Picard was about to give the order to fire again when the Connharakt spat another green disruptor bolt at the Pike.
The bolt’s energy enveloped the shuttle, obscuring it from the captain’s view. Then the craft appeared again—but only long enough for him to watch