The Last Stand - Brad Ferguson [11]
“They’ve recently renamed their planet?” Troi asked. “How strange. But if they’re not from here, then where are they from?”
“I’ve been giving that some thought,” Picard told her. “Mr. Data, I want you to contact the Enterprise and have LCARS send you the bioscan reports we collected from the third and fourth planets of 30452 FAS. Compare the DNA profiles we found among the remaining species on those planets to the one we have found in the humanoid population here. See if they correlate.”
“Yes, Captain. It will take me a moment to contact the ship and complete the download.”
Picard nodded.
“Captain,” Troi asked, “did you finish reading the linguistics summary?”
“Not quite, Counselor. What else did you find?”“We don’t need to call them the Nem Ma’ak Bratunans any longer, sir. Their name for themselves is ‘the Lethanta.’”
Picard read the summary. “I wonder how they came by that,” he said. “It seems to be untranslatable.”
“Estimating landing at spaceport in ten minutes,” Worf reported. Suddenly, his tone changed. “Captain,” he said quickly, “three unidentified craft are approaching from the west.”
“Range and speed?”
“One hundred fifteen kilometers, sir. Speed eleven hundred seventy kilometers per hour.”
“Any sign of weapons activation?”
“I have scanned them already, sir. The craft are only lightly armed. I am reading air-to-air tactical nuclear missiles, four to each craft, twelve in all. They have not been activated. No energy weapons of any sort, sir.”
“They won’t take us by surprise with ordnance such as that,” Picard said, frowning. “Can they follow us into space, Mr. Worf?”
“No, sir. The craft are powered by turbines that burn a fuel-air mixture for thrust. These kinds of systems can work only in atmosphere. The missiles contain their own fuel, but their range and speed are not troublesome to us.”
Picard nodded. “Understood. Mr. Worf, at the first sign of weapons activation or missile launch, get us out of here and head us back toward the Enterprise. In the meantime, keep her steady as she goes.”
“Captain,” Worf said suddenly, “the flight leader is hailing us.”
“Very well. On audio.”
“Shuttlecraft Justman, this is Captain Fesnerkall of the Defense Forces Air Division. Welcome to Nem Ma’ak Bratuna, Captain Picard. I and the other members of my flight have been given the honor of escorting your spacecraft to the spaceport at our capital city.”
“Open a channel, please, Mr. Worf,” Picard ordered. “Captain, this is Captain Picard aboard Justman. Thank you. We appreciate the courtesy of your escort, and we will follow you all the way in.”
“Very good, Captain. I estimate rendezvous in ninety-three seconds. Eh, Captain, if you would have your pilot slow up a bit after the rendezvous point, we won’t have to go to afterburners to keep up with you.”
“Will do, Captain Fesnerkall. Thank you again. Picard out.” To Worf, he said, “Cut our speed to match theirs once we rendezvous, Lieutenant—but be ready to kick her in the tail if we need to get out of here quickly.”
“Aye, sir.”
Data rose from his seat at the science station. “Captain,” he said, “I have completed the new DNA comparison, as ordered. The Lethanta definitely evolved on 30452 FAS Three. They are from there, sir.”
“Ah. Thank you, Mr. Data,” Picard said. “So that world was perhaps a ‘last stand’ as well.”
“And someone blasted the Lethanta off it a very long time ago,” Troi added. “Six thousand years.”
The captain nodded. “We had better find out exactly what occurred,” he said. “Fantastic as it seems, whoever did it to them may be around still.”
Nemtar Ship Commander, the disgraced captain of the equally disgraced Krann scanner ship JTO-52D, was standing in the prisoner dock located in a small chamber that was the traditional venue of Fleet courts-martial. Nemtar was brightly lighted by a spot beam set into the ceiling directly above his