Part 17 (1/2)

”We don't know who they are,” the captain replied. ”Nor do we know why they are there. But the evidence suggests they are not on a humanitarian mission.”

”What'll you do?” Shadowcat asked.

”Whatever we have to,” he told her. ”If they are invaders, we will oppose them. If they are something else, we will deal with them as seems appropriate. However, the one thing we will not do is act precipitously.”

”In other words,” said Nightcrawler, ”we're taking it slow until we know what's going on. Sounds right to me.”

”And what about us?” asked Colossus. ”What can we do?”

Picard shrugged. ”Nothing, really-other than remain prepared to face the situation around Verdeen. Of course, if I see a use for your talents before that time, I will not hesitate to let you know.”

Storm frowned. ”I would like to come up to your bridge later on, to see this vessel with my own eyes.”

The captain couldn't see any reason to forbid it. The silver-haired mutant wasn't the type to get in the way.

”As you wish,” he responded.

”Thank you,” Storm replied.

Picard scanned the X-Men's faces. They seemed to have taken the information he had given them in stride. Then again, these were seasoned warriors, unlikely to flinch at the prospect of adversity.

”If there are no other questions ...” he said.

”I have one,” Colossus told him. ”How are Dr. Crusher and Commander La Forge faring with their research?”

The captain sighed. ”They have yet to come up with anything conclusive, I'm afraid. But if I were you, I would trust in their abilities. Neither of them has failed me yet.”

On that note, he rose and left the room, leaving the X-Men to ponder what he had told them. The difficult part for them, Picard knew, would be the waiting.

But then, that was the difficult part for him as well.

Ruugh Isadjo, High Implementor of the Draa'kon vessel Connharakt, leaned forward in his command pod and eyed the vessel imaged on the scanplate in front of him.

He didn't know where the s.h.i.+p had come from. However, he was reasonably certain it was not native to Xhaldia. His people had been monitoring the planet on and off for nearly thirty cycles, and they had never seen such a vessel in its vicinity.

Isadjo turned his dark, ma.s.sive head to gaze at Mynaagh, his second-in-command. ”Who is this?” he demanded. ”Why are they here?”

Mynaagh's gill-flaps fluttered, knowing her wisdom was being tested. ”Their arrival at this juncture reeks too much to be a coincidence. We must a.s.sume they have come to defend Xhaldia against us.”

The Implementor's leathery-skinned hands balled into fists. ”But we destroyed the planet's means of contacting void-going ent.i.ties. And according to our instruments, we did it before they could send for help.”

His second-in-command scowled, her slitted, yellow eyes sliding toward the scanplate. ”So we did,” she agreed reluctantly, shamed by her inability to shed light on the situation.

”That is all you can say?” he rasped.

Mynaggh's lips pulled back from her several rows of teeth. ”It is all,” she spat, knowing the significance of such an admission.

Isadjo's eyes slid toward the s.h.i.+p on the scanplate as well. It seemed small, but he knew from long experience that appearances could be deceiving. He made a sound of disgust in his cranial cavities.

This was supposed to have been a quick and easy mission, a.s.suring his political faction on the Draa'kon homeworld the prominence it had long deserved. Now, the matter had become complicated.

Still, it wasn't Mynaagh's fault that this had happened. At least, it didn't seem to be. Therefore, Isadjo had no reason to inflict unnecessary pain on her.

”Submit yourself to the recycling facility,” he told his second-in-command. ”But first, sever your primary nerve linkages.”

Mynaagh gazed at him with grat.i.tude in her eyes. ”I am pleased to serve so wise an Implementor,” she hissed. Then she lumbered out of the command chamber and went to carry out his order.

Isadjo grunted at her departure. ”Ettojh,” he barked.

His third-in-command advanced to his side. ”Implementor?”

”You are now second,” said Isadjo. ”Serve well.”

Ettojh bowed his dark, rounded head. ”While you permit it,” he replied, completing the ritual.

That done, the Implementor returned his attention to the scanplate. He tried to decide whether it would be better to go after the interloper now or wait for it to come closer.

Normally, he would have gone after it and would have relished the encounter. However, he had forces on the planet's surface to take into account. Under the circ.u.mstances, it seemed the better choice was to remain in orbit.

Isadjo was not known for his patience. Quite the contrary, in fact. But in the long run, he reminded himself, it hardly mattered when he destroyed the interloper ...

Only that he did.

Even before the captain uttered the words, the counselor felt the rush of urgency that always preceded them.

”Red alert,” said Picard.

The bridge was bathed in a lurid red light, signaling a new level of preparedness all over the s.h.i.+p. Weapons were powered up and s.h.i.+elds were reinforced. Even the captain moved forward to the edge of his chair.

Troi knew it was only a matter of minutes before she would be able to sense the psyches of the alien aggressors-if they were aggressors. She was so focused on that eventuality, she almost failed to notice as the lift doors opened behind her-or as someone emerged from them who was hardly a member of the crew.

Then she felt the inner calm of the newcomer, the remarkable air of self-possession, and even without looking she knew exactly who had joined them. It could only be the mutant known as Storm.

Captain Picard, who was seated to the counselor's right, turned to look at the X-Man. So did Commander Riker. However, their emotional reactions to Storm's presence were quite different, Troi mused.

The first officer clearly didn't quite approve of the situation. To him, the bridge was a place for uniformed officers only, except in those rare instances when a civilian had been recruited for his or her expertise. As far as he was concerned, the mutant didn't fit that bill.

Picard, on the other hand, wasn't at all perturbed by Storm's entrance. On the contrary, he seemed to welcome it.

In fact ...

Suddenly, Troi realized she was in danger of crossing a boundary she had set for herself a long time ago. As a s.h.i.+p's counselor, her job was to monitor the feelings of her colleagues, to make sure they were sailing on an even keel-not to pry into their personal lives.

And yet, without meaning to, she had read a very personal emotion in the captain. An emotion she had no business knowing about.

The Betazoid couldn't undo what she had done. She couldn't erase the knowledge from her mind. She could only keep it to herself and make sure no one else found out about it.

As she thought this, Storm took up a position beside her and examined the viewscreen. ”Ah,” the mutant said evenly. ”We are almost upon them now.”

”Almost,” the captain confirmed.