Part 29 (2/2)

The mutant chuckled. ”Keep yer s.h.i.+rt on.”

Worf was puzzled. ”My s.h.i.+rt ... ?”

”Be patient,” Wolverine translated, as he led the way into the holodeck.

Worf followed him, his batt'leth at the ready. As before, birds shrilled at them from their perches in the golden foliage. Frightened-looking creatures peered out at them from between the trees. And the place stank as badly as ever.

”You could at least have changed the smell,” he told Wolverine.

The mutant looked back at him. ”What smell?”

The Klingon made a face. ”You must smell it. It's-”

And then he stopped himself. Wolverine's sense of smell was even better than his own. The mutant had to be making a joke.

As if to confirm his suspicion, Wolverine grinned a mischievous grin. ”You were sayin', bub?”

Worf scowled. ”Never mind.”

As they approached the altar, the lieutenant knew their adversaries weren't far off. After all, the birds were shrieking more loudly, the trees bowing deeper under the press of the hot, tropical wind.

Worf could feel his heartrate speeding up. He looked about, jaw clenched, bracing himself for the attack he knew would come.

”Where are they?” the mutant whispered.

The Klingon glanced at him. ”You are asking me?”

Wolverine shook his head. ”They should'a pounced on us by now.”

Worf sighed. He had a feeling this was going to be a disappointing experience. But then, what did the mutant know about holodeck programs? Especially those in which- Suddenly, he saw the branches part to the left of them. A powerful-looking figure in orange and brown garments moved like a cat out into the clearing. His pale blond hair was wild, the look in his eyes a feral one, and his clawlike nails were almost as long as Wolverine's.

”Logan,” the man rasped hungrily, displaying his fangs.

”Sabretooth,” the mutant replied. ”It's about time.”

”Wait a minute,” came a slow, deep voice from an unseen source. ”Don't shred him till I get a coupla shots in.”

A moment later, there was a crack and a tree fell down across the altar. Behind it, a gelatinous mountain of a man in a black tank suit stepped out from concealment.

He wasn't alone, either. Another adversary followed. He was dressed entirely in black, dark hair slicked back across his head. To Worf's eye, the man didn't look particularly dangerous, but he was sure Wolverine had selected him for a reason.

”The Blob,” said the mutant. ”And Unus the Untouchable.”

The living mountain cracked his knuckles and grinned. ”I been itchin' ta get my mitts on you,” he told Wolverine.

The one called Unus didn't smile, but his eyes seemed to twinkle. ”That's right,” he said. ”We owe you and your friends. Big time.”

He had barely finished speaking when there was a commotion to Worf's right. A flight of birds took off screaming into the blood-red sky, followed by a pounding that made the ground shake beneath the Klingon's feet.

A pounding that sounded oddly like ... footsteps. And they were getting closer moment by moment.

Finally, another gigantic figure shouldered his way into the clearing. But this one wasn't grotesquely flabby like the Blob. He was a ma.s.s of corded muscle encased in brown and crimson body armor, his headgear more a dome than an actual helmet.

Wolverine grinned. ”Hey, Juggernaut. Glad ya could make it.”

The behemoth's eyes flashed like blue fire. ”You won't be glad for long,” he thundered.

Wolverine glanced at Worf. ”Looks like they're all here, lieutenant. But don't let 'em fool ya. They're actually a lot tougher than they look.”

Eyeing his adversaries, the Klingon s.h.i.+fted his batt'leth from hand to hand. ”Tougher, you say?”

”Yup.”

Worf smiled. ”Good.”

Perhaps this wouldn't be such a disappointment after all.

Picard looked around the table in his observation lounge, which had never been so crowded before. Not only were Worf, Riker, Troi, Crusher, Data, and La Forge present, but all the X-Men as well.

”Thank you for coming,” he told them. ”As I noted, we have a number of subjects to cover.” He turned to his first officer. ”Commander?”

Riker launched into his briefing. ”When we first saw the Draa'kon in orbit around Xhaldia, we wondered what they were doing there. Now we know. They weren't just there to kidnap Xhaldia's budding superbeings. In point of fact, they had created them.”

”Created them?” La Forge repeated.

”That's right,” said the first officer. ”You see, as many as thirty years ago, Draa'kon geneticists found a genome that would produce certain combat abilities in breeding stock.”

”To support Draa'kon aggression against other species,” Crusher noted.

”Exactly, Doctor-just as Khan and others engineered human genes in the twentieth century. But the Draa'kon ran into a stumbling block. Their DNA rejected the genome.”

The captain saw where Riker was going with this. ”So they sought out a gene pool without that particular problem-one that would bring forth a crop of super-powered warriors.”

”Apparently,” said the first officer. ”Finally, they found such a gene pool on Xhaldia-though it was a tiny fraction of the population. After that, it was simply a matter of introducing an airborne virus that would sow the right genetic seeds-and produce a sprinkling of mutant Xhaldians some twenty-two years later.”

La Forge grunted. ”Incredible!”

”However,” Riker said, ”once the transformed learned to use their powers, they would become difficult to capture. Therefore, the Draa'kon would only have a limited window of opportunity to harvest their crop.”

”A window,” Picard continued, ”that we have managed to shut.” He eyed his first officer. ”But tell me, Number One ... how did you learn all this?”

The first officer s.h.i.+fted in his seat. ”Actually, sir, it was Wolverine who obtained the information.”

”Wolverine?” the captain echoed, turning to the mutant.

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