AS TROI ACCOMPANIED Security Chief Clark along one of the starbase's curving corridors, she used her Betazoid senses to locate Wolverine and probe the mutant's state of mind. What she found in him was anger and frustration, in equal parts.

The anger was primitive, instinctual-what an animal might have felt at being caged. The frustration came from the restraint he had to exercise, lest he compound his offense by attempting to tear up his cell.

"I don't mind telling you," said Clark, "he did quite a bit of damage."

Troi let her empathic contact with Wolverine lapse. "Oh?" she replied.

"Two tables, several chairs, and a replicator," the security officer enumerated. "And, of course, one of the bulkheads."

The counselor looked at her. "One of the bulkheads?"

Clark nodded.

The counselor nodded. "I see."

"He's just up ahead," said Clark. She turned to her guest. "You're sure you can handle this?"

Troi nodded. "If the prisoner acts up, I'll just use a few Mok'bara moves on him."

The chief looked at her. "You're joking, right?"

The counselor didn't sense any real amus.e.m.e.nt on Clark's part. "Trying to," she said.

A moment later, they came in sight of the brig. Its forcefield was transparent except for an occasional white spark. As Troi got closer, she could see a pair of booted feet inside, one crossed over the other.

"Lt. Clark," Wolverine said without turning around.

Troi took up a position in front of the brig, where she could get a good look at Wolverine. He was masked, as always.

"Counselor." he acknowledged.

His anger was gone now. The frustration, too. A new complex of emotions was taking hold in the mutant-a mixture of happiness and relief, along with a hint of ...

Troi blushed.

Wolverine grinned. "Ya don't know how glad I am ta see ya, Darlin'. Whatever they say I did, don't believe it."

"They say you were acting disorderly," the counselor told him.

The prisoner shrugged. "All I wanted was a gla.s.s o' milk before bedtime. Izzat so much ta ask?" Troi didn't answer his question. Instead, she said, "Captain Picard's arranged for your release."

"Huh," Wolverine grated. "I knew he'd come through for us sooner or later."

Clark glanced at the Betazoid. "Last chance to reconsider," she said. "If I try real hard, I could convince the admiral to keep him here."

Troi couldn't help chuckling a little. "Orders are orders," she said. "I think you had better release him."

Reluctantly, Clark placed her hand against a plate set into the bulkhead. Then she tapped out a command on the pad below it.

A moment later, the forcefield was gone. Wolverine put out his hand and confirmed the fact for himself. Satisfied, he grunted.

"Now that," the mutant said, "is more like it." He looked at the counselor. "Where's Picard?"

Troi gestured for Wolverine to come along.

Then, with the mutant at her side, she followed Lt. Clark back to the admiral's ready room.

As Commander Riker entered Transporter Room One, he saw Lt. Robinson manning the controls. Nodding in a friendly way to the willowy brunette, the first officer took his place beside her.

After all, the captain and their newfound guests would be beaming aboard in less than a minute. Picard had called from the starbase to say so only a little while ago.

"Sir?" said Robinson, as she checked her monitors.

Riker turned to her. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

She looked up at him. "Are these people-these X-Men-really as super-powerful as people say they are?"

The first officer began to say that Robinson would know as well as anyone. Then he remembered.

The lieutenant, a veteran of the EnterpriseD, hadn't remained with the crew when it launched the Enterprise-E. She had spent some time on Earth first-and had thereby missed the ship's crosstime battle with the Borg, not to mention its encounter with the X-Men.

"They have some unusual talents," said Riker. "One of them can teleport himself around. Another one can dent duranium with a single punch, and the youngest can travel through solid matter."

"I heard one of them can fly," Robinson told him.

The first officer chuckled. "Like a bird."

"Hard to believe a man can do that," she said.

Riker shrugged. "Not when you put them in context."

Robinson looked at him. "Context, sir?"

"Think about some of the other beings we've run into in our travels. Take Q, for instance."

Their frequent visitor from the Q Continuum had demonstrated his amazing powers for them time and again. Once, he had even granted the first officer a taste of them.

"Or the Traveler," he continued, "who can manipulate the very fabric of s.p.a.ce and time. And don't forget the Douwd, who was able to wipe out an entire race with a single thought."

Riker wasn't done. In fact, he was just warming up.

"Then we've got the Founders of the Gamma Quadrant, who can reshape themselves into anything they can imagine. And our own Mr. Data-who's as fast or powerful as any of the X-Men."

The transporter operator smiled. "Actually, I was thinking more in terms of other humans."

He looked at her. "What makes you think the X-Men are human?"

"Well," said Robinson, "they're from Earth, aren't they? Maybe not our Earth, but something a lot like it?"

"They're from Earth, all right," Riker confirmed. "But apparently that doesn't make them h.o.m.o sapiens. As I understand it, some people consider them a different species entirely."

The lieutenant absorbed the information. "Interesting."

Suddenly, she looked down at her control console. "They're on their way," she reported.

Just then, the doors to the room slid open and Worf walked in. He nodded to the first officer and took up a position beside him.

"Come to renew old acquaintances?" asked Riker.

The Klingon grunted. "I seem to be doing that a lot lately."

Before he had finished his comment, the transporter platform came alive with a half-dozen pillars of sparkling light. In a matter of moments, they solidified into Data, Troi, and four of the X-Men-Nightcrawler, Banshee, Colossus, and Wolverine.

The first officer smiled at them. "Welcome aboard."

Nightcrawler stepped down from the platform. He walked with that strange, bowlegged gait Riker remembered.

"Vielen dank," said the mutant. "It's nice to be aboard."

"Worf," grunted Wolverine.

Coming forward, he held his hand out to the Klingon. Worf grasped it enthusiastically-and no wonder. In their last meeting, he had developed quite a respect for Wolverine's prowess as a warrior.

"You are well?" asked the Klingon.

"Well enough," the mutant told him. "Ya don't have a brig on this bucket, do ya?"

Worf's brow creased. "In fact, we do. Why do you ask?"

Wolverine waved away the question. "Never mind. Now that I'm here, howzabout you show me that game you were tellin' me about-the one we didn't have time to play last time?"

"Game?" said the Klingon.

"Yeah, what'd ya call it ... some kind o' holowhoozis?"

Worf suppressed a grin. "Ah, yes. My calisthenics program on the holodeck."

The mutant pointed to him. "Yeah. That's the one."

He hooked Troi by the arm.

"Hey, Counselor-wanna join us fer some calisthenics?"

Troi sighed. "Maybe another time."

As she moved away, Wolverine leaned closer to the Klingon. "Is it me, or has the counselor gotten a little stuffy all of a sudden? She needs to lighten up-be more like you, Worf."

"Please clear the platform," said Robinson. "Captain Picard and the others are ready to beam over."

Banshee sighed and motioned to Colossus. "Come on, Piotr. I think we're standin' in th' way o' th' fast lane."

As Riker watched, they stepped down and stood alongside their teammates. A moment later, three more columns of light appeared. In short order, they gave way to Picard, Storm, and Shadowcat.

"The gang's all here," said Wolverine.

The captain approached Riker. "Number One, would you see to quarters for our guests?"

"It'd be my pleasure, sir," said the first officer.

"In the meantime," Picard told him, "I'd like to have a word with Storm." He turned to the silver-haired leader of the mutants. "If that's all right with you."

Storm nodded. "It is not as if I have urgent business elsewhere."

The captain smiled. "I suppose that's true."

Riker looked at his commanding officer. He hadn't seen that kind of expression on Picard's face in years. He was pleased and more than a little intrigued to see it now.

Pondering the possibilities, the first officer led all the X-Men except Storm out of the transporter room.

Chapter Six.

PICARD ESCORTED STORM into his ready room. Offering her a seat, he went over to the replicator unit built into the bulkhead.

"Something to drink?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Some tea? Herbal, if you have it."

"On the Enterprise," he replied, "we have everything." Selecting a blend of rosehips, orange peel, and blackberry leaves, the captain programmed the replicator to manufacture it. Then he added an Earl Grey for himself.

A moment later, there were two steaming cups of tea on the grid in front of him. He removed them and set them down on his desk. Then he came around and sat down opposite Storm.

"There's a problem," she said, "isn't there?"

Picard knew exactly what she meant. "Getting you home," he replied. "Yes, if the information I received from Admiral Kashiwada is accurate, it appears there is."

The mutant smiled bravely. "I had a feeling."

"As I understand it," said the captain, going over what he had learned just to be certain, "your timehooks malfunctioned-and then disappeared."

"That is correct," Storm replied. "Obviously, the timehook you used produced more satisfactory results."

"Eminently more satisfactory," said Picard. "It worked perfectly, returning us to our own time and place. Nor did it disappear, as yours did."