Part 28 (1/2)

Without hesitating, Picard pointed to the viewscreen, where the hulking Connharakt dwarfed Counselor Troi's tiny shuttlecraft. ”Target,” he cried, ”and fire!”

The taste of blood in her mouth, Troi tried to lift herself offthe deck of the Pike. Abruptly, she felt a strong pair of hands pull her up the rest of the way.

Turning, she saw that it was Colossus who was providing the a.s.sistance. He wasn't just lifting her, either. He was using his metallic body to s.h.i.+eld her from a shower of hot sparks.

The shuttle's cabin was in disarray, her control panels sputtering, plumes of smoke wafting forward from the ruin of her propulsion system. However, everyone was still alive.

At least, for the moment.

”Are you all right, Counselor?” asked Lt. Glavin, one of the security officers who had accompanied her to Xhaldia's surface.

”She's just fine,” Wolverine interjected. He eyed Lt. Stephenson, the shuttle's helmsman. ”Now, if it's okay with you, soldier, I'd just as soon get outta here before those bozos lambaste us a second time.”

”I'd be glad to,” said Stephenson, ”if we still had engines, or even thrusters. But that blast threw everything offline.”

Troi peered out the forward observation port, where the Draa'kon vessel blotted out halfthe stars. In a matter of moments, its disruptor beams would lance out at them again and finish the job they started.

Suddenly, the counselor saw the Connharakt raked with blood-red phaser beams. The Draa'kon s.h.i.+p's s.h.i.+elds seemed to flicker under the impact.

It gave Troi an idea. It was a longshot, granted, but nothing short of a longshot would save them at that point.

She approached a small secondary console in the aft quarters of the shuttle. Its side was blackened, but it seemed basically intact.

The counselor tried to touch it, but it was too hot for her to handle. She turned to Colossus, whose metallic body seemed capable of withstanding almost anything-including intense heat.

”Hurry!” she told him. ”I need you!”

Picard was about to give the order to fire again when the Connharakt spat another green disruptor bolt at the Pike.

The bolt's energy enveloped the shuttle, obscuring it from the captain's view. Then the craft appeared again-but only long enough for him to watch it explode in a spectacle of white light and antimatter-fueled fury.

My G.o.d, thought Picard, his heart sinking in his chest.

He stared at the viewscreen, where all that was left of the Pike was a raggedly expanding collection of debris. He tried to come to grips with that fact, to absorb it.

Troi ... dead? It didn't seem possible.

The counselor had been with him since he took command of the EnterpriseD years earlier. She hadn't just been a skilled and respected colleague. She had been a close and valued friend.

And now ...

The captain swallowed. He felt empty. Numb.

Nor was it only Troi he had lost in the explosion. Wolverine and Colossus had been destroyed along with her-and five of his surviving security officers as well.

”Sir?” said Lt. Yeowell, who was manning Ops in Data's absence. Picard turned to him.

”Yes, Lieutenant?”

Yeowell smiled hopefully at him-a strange thing to do at such a time. ”Sir, I picked up evidence of transporter activity just before the shuttle was torn apart.”

Picard looked at him, ready to grasp at any straw. ”Transporter activity?” he repeated.

”Yes, sir. But the away team didn't transport back to the Enterprise.”

The captain looked at him. ”Then ...”

He turned to the viewscreen, where the Connharakt seemed to be veering away from the Enterprise. Was it possible ... ?

”They've beamed onto the bridge of the Draa'kon s.h.i.+p,” Yeowell reported, confirming Picard's suspicion.

”Hold your fire,” the captain told Ensign Suttles.

After all, their own people were at risk on the Connharakt. All they could do for the moment was wait and see what happened.

High Implementor Isadjo grunted as he studied his scanplate, where one of the Connharakt's pale-green disruptor beams had finally stabbed an Enterprise shuttle craft.

Before the Implementor's eyes, the scanplate blanched with white light. When it cleared, there was hardly anything left of the enemy craft. Vessel and crew had been destroyed.

It was meager compensation for what Picard and his people had done to the Draa'kon's plans on Xhaldia. However, Isadjo had yet to expend his energy stores. With a little luck, he would yet wreak havoc on- ”Implementor!” roared one of his officers.

Scowling, Isadjo turned in his command pod-and took in a sight he had never imagined he would see, even in his wildest lodge visions. As difficult as it was to believe, his bridge was peppered with Enterprise intruders.

As the Implementor watched, spellbound, the enemy aimed their weapons and fired. His own people did the same. There were shouts of pain and surprise, and a series of thuds as Draa'kon bodies. .h.i.t the deck.

In the melee, an energy inverter was punctured. It spewed thick, yellow gas across the bridge, making it difficult to see anything-except, of course, the energy bolts that continued to lance in every direction.

Slipping his own weapon free of its sheathe, Isadjo got up from his pod and peered into the hissing, yellow miasma, waiting for an enemy to show himself. None did. But a moment later, one of the Implementor's officers came hurtling out of the fog, his face bleeding freely from four parallel cuts.

Isadjo cursed and took a step forward, trying to catch sight of a likely target. But before he could get very far, another of his officers spun free of the gas cloud, his tunic ripped and b.l.o.o.d.y.

The Implementor didn't like what was happening. His gill-flaps fluttered uncontrollably. His lips pulled back and a cry of rage filled his cranial cavities.

”Show yourselves!” he demanded of the enemy. ”Face me like warriors!”

As if in response to Isadjo's order, a trio emerged from the fog. One was Ettojh, his second-in-command, who was staggering backward under the influence of a powerful blow. Another was Cyggelh, his helmsman.

And the third ...

The third was a figure clad in yellow and blue, with a mask covering half his face. The invader was grinning, as if he liked nothing better than fighting for his life in close and dangerous quarters.

He wasn't armed with a directed-energy device like his comrades. In fact, all he had in the way of weapons were the long, sharp clawlike things protruding from his knuckles.

Nonetheless, he used them effectively. Before the Implementor's eyes, the yellow-and-blue one slashed Ettojh's disruptor from his grasp and delivered a savage kick to his midsection.

Isadjo's helmsman took advantage of the moment to fire, but the invader ducked and evaded the blast. Then he leaped on the Draa'kon like a ravening beast, sending him slamming into a bulkhead with skull-rattling force.