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"Paris to the Verunan fleet," he said. "Voyager will shortly be lifting her shields. We'll have a brief window and we'll have to move fast. Then everyone is to follow me. I have been put in charge of this part of the mission, but otherwise everything will go exactly as we discussed. Sit tight, everyone. I'll let you know when we go."

He kept one eye on the five ships, patiently waiting for his go-ahead, and the other on the empty space. A few seconds later, there came a brief dash of blue. "Okay, the shields are down.

Everyone, follow me!"

The shuttlecraft leaped forward, gliding down toward the dead planet.

"How are they doing?" he asked Kaavi.

"Everyone is in perfect formation. They are all keeping close."

"Good." There was another flash of blue and Paris knew that the shields were back up. "Paris to the Verunan fleet. Voyager is going to attempt to distract the Akerian ship so we can complete our mission.

It will be another few moments before we can land.

I advise everyone to call up the map of the area and go over our orders. If anyone has any questions, feel free to ask them now.

I don't want any confusion about our mission."

There was silence as they drew closer to the planet. Paris knew that on the five remaining Guardian vessels fifteen Verunan heads were poised over the map, mentally reviewing their instructions.

There were no questions. He wished that these people were in the Alpha Quadrant. They'd be shoo-ins for Federation membership--and therefore Federation protection. For that matter, he thought darkly, he wished he were in the Alpha Quadrant.

The distortion faded as they approached. They were close enough now to see the scarred rubble that had once been a thriving, advanced civilization. Everything was gray. There were no oceans, no clearly recognizable buildings, nothing save gray powder, craters, worn-away rocks, and debris.

Paris checked the atmosphere. They would all still need their envirosuits-there was no breathable air. But the gravity on the planet surface was only about two g. They would be able to maneuver almost as easily as in regular atmosphere. Well, that was one good thing.

The Verunans had their own version of handheld directed energy weaponry. Paris would be toting a phaser rifle; here on the planet surface, with its almost normal gravity, energy fire was not nearly as dangerous as it was in open space. Each ship's pilot had a tricorder, which they had promised to return after the mission was completed.

There had been discussion about "contamination," but Paris had reasoned that the Verunans had already seen tricorders in action. And when there were lives at stake, being able to pinpoint the Verunans was an advantage he would just as soon they all had.

Mentally, Paris went over the mission himself as they drew closer to what was clearly a landing pad of sorts. They had a complete map and timetable, downloaded from the Akerian vessel. They were coming right as a shift was ending, which meant that the odds were good that most of the prisoners would still be in their envirosuits, ready to run for the scout ships and the shuttlecraft without delay. They knew exactly where the prisoners were kept. Ideally, this mission shouldn't take more than twenty minutes start to finish. But Paris had an idea that the Akerian guards would do their best to keep the mission from proceeding perfectly.

Paris quickly put on his helmet, sealed it shut, and checked to make sure the ETCs, the emergency transport carriers--"living body bags," he'd once quipped--were easily accessible. These were large sacks whose environmental controls could be activated the moment the individual was safely inside. That person would then have to be carried, of course, but at least he or she would be alive for the trip.

Conditions were harsh on this still, dead planet. The slaves were not treated well, and there was a good chance that some of them might not be able to walk out under