As the first officer passed the tactical station, he said, "You're with me, Mr. Sovar."
The Xhaldian hesitated only long enough for another officer to take his post. Then he joined Riker, Data, and Storm as they entered the lift.
"Captain," said Nightcrawler, still speaking over the ship's intercom, "if this is going to work, I'll need a moment to familiarize myself with the Connharakt's layout."
Again, the bridge staggered under the weight of a Draa'kon barrage. Picard glanced at the new tactical officer.
"Additional breaches on decks thirty-one through thirty-three," the man told him.
The Enterprise couldn't take much more of this, the captain thought. He looked to the intercom grid again.
"Commander La Forge will show you our sensor data," he told Nightcrawler. "Will that be enough?"
The mutant grunted. "It will have to be, nicht wahr."
Chapter Twenty-one.
DATA ENTERED ENGINEERING with a phaser in each hand. He found Nightcrawler and Geordi bent over the free-standing situations monitor.
Halfway there, the deck pitched beneath the android, spilling him into a bulkhead. In fact, everyone in engineering was thrown off their feet.
No doubt, the Draa'kon have breached the hull again, Data thought. He could smell the smoky odor of distant circuitry fires. It gave them all the more reason to hurry.
"Data," said Nightcrawler, helping Geordi to his feet, "I'm as ready as I will ever be."
"Good," said the android, handing the mutant his phaser. "I, too, have assimilated all our information on Draa'kon ship design. Therefore, even if we do not materialize in the immediate vicinity of the shield generators, I am confident I will be able to find them."
Nightcrawler patted him on the back. "I like an optimist."
Data smiled. "Thank you."
"Commander La Forge," came the captain's voice over the intercom. "How much longer need we wait?"
Geordi looked at Nightcrawler, then at the android. "We're ready when you are, sir."
"Excellent," said Picard. "Stand by. We are attempting a maneuver which will allow us to match the Connharakt's course and speed."
Data didn't know what that maneuver might be, but he was certain it entailed a great deal of risk. As Storm had said, Nightcrawler's maximum range was only a couple of miles. At that distance, a direct hit would turn the ship into a blazing scattering of debris.
"Ten seconds," the captain warned them.
Their timing would have to be excruciatingly precise, the android reflected. The slightest miscalculation ...
"Nine," said Picard. "Eight. Seven. Six."
The android took up a position next to the mutant, who put his hand on Data's shoulder.
"Five. Four. Three," the captain continued.
Nightcrawler cleared his throat. "Here goes nothing."
Data sincerely hoped it was a joke.
"Two," said Picard. "One ..."
There was no sensation attached to the experience of teleporting alongside the mutant. At least, none that the android could discern.
He simply found himself in a wide, high-ceilinged corridor he had never seen before, made of a dark metal he couldn't identify. The place was illuminated with lurid, red lighting strips.
And there was a smell of sulfur, of course-Nightcrawler's trademark, apparently.
Data turned to the mutant just in time to see his eyes roll back in his head, his powers having been taxed to their very limits. As Nightcrawler's knees buckled, the android caught him and slung him over his shoulder as gently as possible.
Then he headed down the corridor, hoping to get his bearings. After all, the mutant had done his job. Now it was up to Data to do the same.
His nerves taut, Riker stood alongside Storm, Shadowcat, Sovar, and a couple of other security officers and awaited word from the captain that the Connharakt's shields were down.
But with each passing second, the first officer's hopes fell a little more. After all, Data and Nightcrawler had popped out of engineering almost three minutes earlier. The longer it took to hear from them, the less likely it was that they had accomplished their mission.
Or even survived.
It was easy to catalog all the bad things that might have happened to them, beginning with their never having reached the Connharakt in the first place and ending with a disastrous firefight in the shadow of the shield generators. Nor could he rule out any of those possibilities.
Still, Riker chose to think positively. In all the years he had known Data, the android had never let him down-never failed to come through. With any luck, his record would hold this time as well.
Suddenly, the captain's voice broke the silence. "Captain Picard to transporter rooms one, two, and three. Effect transports immediately."
Inwardly, the first officer cheered. Data and Nightcrawler had worked their miracle, it seemed. The enemy's shields had been stripped away, leaving them vulnerable to the Enterprise's away teams.
Standing at the transporter console, Lt. Demeter worked his controls quickly and efficiently. Riker braced himself for whatever he might encounter when he materialized on the Connharakt.
But after a moment, nothing had happened. Cursing to himself, the first officer watched Demeter frown and try the transport a second time.
"What's the matter?" Riker asked.
The transporter operator shook his head, then looked up at the first officer. "Their shields are back up, sir," Demeter reported miserably.
No, thought Riker. It can't be! Not after Data and Nightcrawler risked their lives for this. Not after they succeeded, for godsakes!
What in blazes had gone wrong?
Worf looked around. He found himself in a wide, high corridor made of some dark metal, lit with blood-red strips. Banshee, Archangel, and the three security officers assigned to him stood alongside him.
In accordance with his orders, the Klingon tapped the communicator on his chest. "Worf to Commander Riker," he said.
There was no answer.
"Try again," Banshee advised him.
The Klingon did that. He obtained the same results.
Then he tried the other team leader. "Worf to Commander Troi."
No answer there either.
The Klingon didn't like it. Riker had put together three teams so the Draa'kon would have several problems to deal with at once. If only Worf's had gotten through ...
Then it occurred to him that it might simply be a communications problem. The Klingon tested the theory by attempting to contact Data.
"Worf to Commander Data."
"I am here," came the response. "Unfortunately, I believe our two parties are the only ones on board. Apparently, the Draa'kon have a redundant system of shield generators. Almost as soon as we disabled the primary generators, a secondary set took over."
The Klingon scowled at the way events had unfolded. Nonetheless, he resolved to make the best of it.
"We will proceed according to plan," he said.
"Likewise," the android replied.
"Lovely," said Banshee.
Ignoring him, Worf studied the corridor in both directions. If he and his team had been beamed to the right location, his objective was down the passage to his right. At its end, there was a perpendicular passageway, right where he had expected to find it.
"This way," he said.
Without comment, his comrades came along-with one exception. Archangel flew up ahead, no doubt to reconnoiter. A moment later, he came to the end of the hallway and veered out of sight.
The Klingon didn't object. In fact, he approved of the mutant's scouting-out their prospects.
It made sense for each of them to use his or her talents to their best advantage. That was why Commander Riker had assigned each team a couple of X-Men, wasn't it? So they could draw on the mutants' strengths?
Suddenly, Worf heard a shout of surprise, followed by another-cries so guttural even a Klingon couldn't have made them. Then he saw a beam of green energy scald the bulkhead up ahead of them, its source the corridor Archangel had invaded.
Before Worf could hiss a warning to his comrades, the winged mutant came whipping around the corner, frantically waving his arms at them. "Watch out!" he shouted.
As his warning echoed from bulkhead to bulkhead, a squad of seven or eight Draa'kon flooded the junction ahead of them-their weapons spitting vicious, green energy bolts that filled the corridor with their fury. The Klingon shoved Banshee in one direction and threw himself in the other, narrowly avoiding the barrage.
One of the Enterprise security officers wasn't so lucky. Caught in one of the enemy's bursts, Lt. Wayne was lifted off his feet and thrown backward four or five meters. By the time he landed, the man was dead, his chest a wet, smoking ruin.
Cursing under his breath, Worf took aim and returned the Draa'kon's fire. Kirby and Ditko, the surviving security officers, followed suit.
So did Archangel, but from an entirely different angle. As the others stood their ground, he launched himself into the air and performed a devastating strafing run with his borrowed phaser.
Obviously unprepared for an adversary who could fly, the Draa'kon raised their weapon barrels too late to hit the mutant with their energy bolts. All they could do was sear the metal ceiling in his wake.
Archangel, on the other hand, was more successful. By the time he wheeled about on the far side of them, he had taken out one Draa'kon with a well-placed phaser shot and was zeroing in on the others.
Banshee didn't even pull his phaser from his jacket pocket. Instead, he opened his mouth ... and let out a shriek so loud that even Worf could barely stand it.
Instantly, one of the Draa'kon's weapons exploded in his meaty hands. And a fraction of a second later, his comrade's weapon did the same.
As Archangel forced the enemy to turn and deal with him, the Klingon took down another Draa'kon with his phaser. A beam from Kirby sent yet another one slamming into a bulkhead, and Ditko dispatched one as well.
Ignoring the chaos around him, a Draa'kon nearly burned a hole in Archangel's wing. Fortunately, the mutant was quick enough to rise out of harm's way. Then he released a beam of his own, striking his adversary in the forehead and dropping him where he stood.
That left only one armed Draa'kon. Lips pulled back in a wolfish grin, Worf cut him down. Then, for good measure, he turned his phaser on the two whom Banshee had disarmed, stunning them.
In the silence that followed, those still standing listened for signs of other Draa'kon. For the time being, there weren't any.
Taking advantage of the respite, Kirby went to check on Wayne. Kneeling beside the man, he felt Lee's neck for a pulse. Then he looked at Worf and shook his head.
Klingons believed the body to be nothing more than a shell for the spirit. Since Wayne's spirit had clearly been released, Worf felt no responsibility regarding it.
Gesturing for Kirby and the others to follow him, he advanced along the corridor. One by one, they fell into line behind him.
Again, with a single airborne exception.
Chapter Twenty-two.
STILL IRKED that he had not been able to beam over to the enemy ship, Riker settled into the pilot's seat in the shuttle. He tapped a stud on the craft's control console. Instantly, the captain's image appeared on one of the console's monitors.
"Number One," said Picard.
"We'll be ready to depart in a moment, sir," the first officer responded. "We're just waiting for the medical tricorders the doctor wanted us to bring."
The muscles worked in the captain's jaw. "Don't worry, Will-we'll take care of the Draa'kon up here. You just concern yourselves with the Draa'kon down there."
Riker nodded, knowing Picard wasn't half as confident as he sounded. "I'll do that, sir."
Then the captain's image blinked out, to be replaced by a darkened screen. The first officer understood. After all, they were still being pursued by the Draa'kon, though in the last few minutes the captain's maneuvers had bought them a respite.
"Commander?" said a feminine voice.
Riker turned and saw Dr. Crusher depositing a container on the deck of the shuttle. "Your tricorders," she noted.
Crusher looked harried, her copper hair in disarray. But then, sickbay had been brimming with casualties in the last few minutes.