Taking deep, laborious breaths, Banshee rose to his knees beside Worf. Then he staggered to his feet and lurched forward until he was able to sink beside Archangel and check his vital signs.
"The lad's alive," the mutant said of his teammate, "but his breathin' is shallow, and I d' nae think his color's all it should be."
By then, Ditko and Kirby were on their feet as well, shrugging off the effects like the others. The Klingon tossed Archangel over his shoulder, wings and all.
Then they continued down the corridor, hoping they didn't meet another squad of Draa'kon before they reached their destination.
As Riker dropped his shuttle through a dense layer of clouds, he got his first glimpse of Verdeen.
It was a small city by Terran standards, nestled in the foothills of a high, sprawling mountain range. Continuing his descent, the first officer could see that the place was laid out in a simple grid, every street at right angles to those that crossed it. There were spots where a tall, steep hill interrupted the pattern, but those were few and far between.
In most parts of the city, the streets were choked with people and vehicles. But not in the northwest section. It seemed that portion of Verdeen was deserted.
No, the first officer thought, his attention drawn to a series of bright, green flashes. Not completely deserted.
Looking more closely at one of the wider thoroughfares, he spied a squad of invaders pursuing a small group of Xhaldians-more than likely, he thought, some of the transformed.
Convinced he had found his "war zone," Riker looked for a place to put down. Finally, he located a plaza big enough and swung his shuttle into a position directly above it. Then he switched to reverse thrusters and eased the craft to the ground below.
None of the buildings surrounding him was more than a dozen stories tall. They were utilitarian, to say the least, each of them displaying the same oval windows and grey, unadorned facade.
The first officer waited until he was certain the shuttle was on firm ground. Then he got out of his seat and addressed his team of eight, which included Lt. Sovar and four other security officers as well as Storm and Shadowcat.
"Remember," he said, "there's nothing subtle about this. The idea is to take out as many Draa'kon as we can before they realize they've got a fight on their hands."
Storm looked at Riker skeptically. "They already have a fight on their hands, Commander. They have the transformed."
The first officer dismissed the idea with a gesture. "I heard the report about the prison, too," he reminded her. "But you're not going to tell me a gaggle of kids with untested abilities is going to stand up to a trained, alien invasion force."
The mutant frowned. "I have seen such youngsters stand up to greater adversity," she said. "And though I grant you that this is not my world, I would not be surprised if the transformed were the more serious threat before this day is over-not only to the populace, but to themselves."
Riker considered her advice. "Maybe that'll be the case," he conceded. "But for now, we'll hit the Draa'kon with everything we've got and worry about the transformed later."
"You are in charge of this mission," Storm told him. "I assured your captain that I would follow your instructions and I will."
That's all right, the first officer mused. She'll be a lot happier when the Xhaldians are safe from these predators.
"All right," he told his team. "Split up into pairs, as Captain Picard recommended. But stay in contact as much as possible. If you're injured, don't try to make it back to the shuttle-the Draa'kon may be watching it. Just remain where you are and we'll get you some help." He looked around. "Any questions?"
There weren't any.
Riker nodded. "Good."
Tapping a command into his helm console, he slid open the hatch door. Then he led the way outside. A few moments later, after everyone was out, the door closed again.
The first officer looked around. Half a dozen streets radiated from the plaza. Down one, he saw a glint of green light-evidence of the Draa'kon.
"You're with me," he told Storm, taking out his phaser and heading for the street in question.
The mutant didn't answer. She just followed.
Hearing footfalls in the corridor outside, Data looked up from the Draa'kon transporter console. Nightcrawler, who was standing by the door near a couple of stunned adversaries, gestured for the android not to worry.
"It's Worf's team," he said, remarkably enthusiastic despite his extreme fatigue. "They made it, Data!"
As the footfalls grew closer, the mutant showed himself and gestured for the others to hurry. A few moments later, the Klingon and his comrades burst into the room.
The android noticed that Archangel was injured. Also, one member of the team was missing. "Lt. Wayne?" he asked.
"Dead," said Worf.
"I am sorry to hear that," Data told him.
"An' we'll nae be much better off ourselves," Banshee noted, "unless we get a move on, lads."
Acknowledging the wisdom of the remark, the android returned his attention to the aliens' transporter console. "We can beam only four at a time," he said. "Mr. Ditko, you and Mr. Kirby will be in the first group. Also, Nightcrawler and Archangel."
No one argued. Everyone knew the Draa'kon might come charging into the room at any moment, at which point their opportunity would be lost.
The Draa'kon transporter grid, which was divided neatly into pie-shaped quadrants, stood only a meter or so from Data. Worf carried the winged man to it and placed him in the arms of the slender and still weak Nightcrawler, who was left to hold up his teammate as best he could. At the same time, Ditko and Kirby got on.
Nightcrawler grinned at the android. "See you back on the ship," he said.
Data nodded. "Back on the ship."
Then he dropped the Connharakt's forward shields-a trick he had prepared in advance-and activated the Draa'kon transporter. The Enterprise's shields weren't a problem, of course, as they weren't functioning.
A couple of seconds later, Ditko, Kirby, Nightcrawler, and Archangel were surrounded by ascending circles of neon blue. Then, with an abrupt burst of energy, they disappeared.
A few seconds later, the Connharakt's shields went up again, as the ship's redundancies kicked in. However, the android had had enough time to beam his comrades back to the Enterprise.
Now came the slightly trickier part. After all, Data himself would be departing with the second group.
As Worf and Banshee took their places on the transporter grid, the android preset as many controls as he could and waited. Finally, he saw an indication that the Connharakt's shields had dropped again.
Taking advantage of the opening, Data activated the transporter's delay function and stepped over the prone figure of the Draa'kon transporter operator, joining the others on the grid.
Turning to the room's entrance, he took out his phaser. Worf had his weapon in hand as well.
"How long?" Banshee asked.
"Only a few seconds," the android told him.
No sooner had he uttered his reply than he heard the sound of heavy footsteps outside the transporter room. It seemed their departure would not be a smooth one after all.
As soon as the Draa'kon showed themselves, Data used his phaser to level one of them and send another spinning into a bulkhead. Worf caused a third one to double over.
But there was still one more. Making his way through the phaser barrage, he took aim at Banshee and fired. As the mutant cried out, the android tried to shove him out of harm's way.
But he had a feeling he wouldn't be in time.
Suddenly, he found himself standing on an Enterprise transporter platform. To his surprise, Banshee was all right after all. And so was Worf.
Nightcrawler, Kirby and Ditko were waiting for them alongside Lt. Robinson, the transporter operator on duty. Archangel was present as well, though Dr. Crusher and her people were in the process of spiriting him off to sickbay.
Data turned to Banshee. "I believed you had been struck by a Draa'kon energy bolt," he said. "I am glad I was mistaken."
Banshee smiled a grim smile. "Fortunately, I had a moment t' show that bloody Draa'kon th' error of his ways. Or did ye think I was soundin' off merely for the fun of it?"
The android recalled the mutant's cry and understood. But then, after what he had seen Nightcrawler accomplish, he should have known better than to underestimate the resourcefulness of an X-Man.
Chapter Twenty-four.
CAPTAIN'S LOG, SUPPLEMENTAL. As we race to effect repairs to the Enterprise, I find myself locked in a stalemate with High Implementor Isadjo of the brutal Draa'kon.
While our weapons and our deflector shields are useless at the moment, we still retain some mobility at impulse speeds. The Connharakt, on the other hand, still boasts the use of her shields and some of her weapon batteries-but thanks to the success of our saboteurs, she sits dead in the water, incapable of offering pursuit.
A message has been sent to the nearest starbase, notifying it of our predicament. Xhaldia is, therefore, assured of assistance, regardless of what happens to the Enterprise-though I do not know when that assistance will arrive or in what form.
In the meantime, I have ordered the dispatch of a third shuttle to the city of Verdeen on Xhaldia's northern continent. After all, our efforts will have availed us nothing if we cannot stop the Draa'kon from carrying out their agenda on the planet's surface ...
Whatever that agenda may be.
Crusher approached Archangel's biobed, where he lay unconscious, recovering from his bout with a coalescing force barrier. At least, that was how Worf had described it.
Gazing at her patient, the doctor decided that Deanna was right. The mutant was too handsome for his own good.
Suddenly, Archangel's eyes opened wide, startling her with their naked fury. His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, twisting it painfully.
"Where ... ?" he gasped.
"The Enterprise," she told him gently, pulling her hand back with an effort. "Sickbay. You were injured on the Draa'kon ship ... remember?"
Slowly, understanding began to dawn. "The Enterprise," he echoed.
"You suffered a considerable jolt to your nervous system," the doctor explained, checking his vital signs on the bed's readout. "With the help of our cell regenerators, you'll eventually be as good as new-but it'll take a little time."
What she saw on the readout surprised her. Quickly, she ran a diagnostic, which came up negative. Then she scanned the biodata again, with exactly the same results.
It seemed Archangel was doing a lot better than she had expected. In a couple of hours, he had made a full day's worth of progress.
He frowned. "Where are my teammates?"
"They've gone down to the planet's surface," Crusher told him. "To try to deal with the Draa'kon."
The mutant cursed and tried to sit up. Remarkably, he succeeded.
"I should be with them," he said. "Storm and the others ..."
He tried to slide off the bed, but she restrained him. It wasn't easy, either. Obviously, he had regained a good deal of his strength.
"They'll be all right," she told him.
Disgusted with his weakness, he allowed her to move him back again. "Are you sure about that?" he said.
Crusher wasn't, of course. Not any more than she could have been sure Lt. Wayne would survive the boarding of the Connharakt.
"I didn't think so," Archangel said. He turned away, no doubt imagining the worst.
"You feel responsible for them," she observed. "Even though you're not the one in charge."
Her patient turned to her again. "That's right. Storm's our leader ... but I'm the one who's been around the longest." His eyes lost their focus for a moment. "I was one of the first, you know."
"The first ... ?"
"X-Men," he told her. "A member of the original team formed by Professor Xavier, before the world had even heard of mutants."
"Professor Xavier," said the doctor. "He's your ... leader?"
"Leader, mentor, father figure ... all of that. Professor X was the one with the vision. He saw that a clash was coming between homo sapiens and homo superior. And he wanted the world to survive that clash-to see a day when mutants and normal humans could live together in peace."
"Sounds like a worthwhile goal," the doctor said.
Her patient shrugged. "Worthwhile-and maybe impossible."
"Things haven't worked out the way the professor planned?"
"Not so far," Archangel conceded.
His eyes glazed over, as if with memories he didn't feel like talking about. Then they brightened a bit.
"But the situation on Xhaldia is still new," the mutant told her. "It's still taking shape. The transformed have a better chance to lead normal lives than we did."
Crusher saw where he was going with this. "We'll help them," she reassured him. "And we'll do fine, with or without you."
He grunted. "You're just saying that to keep me from leaping out of bed."
"If you could leap out of bed," she countered, "I'd be the first to give you my blessing. But you can't, and we both know it."
Archangel scowled, his frustration showing. "Then at least let me sit on the bridge. I know my teammates, Doctor. At any given moment, I know what they'll do and how they'll do it. I can't imagine your captain wouldn't want to know it, too."
Crusher considered the mutant's request. Certainly, there was a big difference between sitting on the bridge and going into combat-and it would be a big help to have an X-Man at the captain's side.