CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL
Chapter 11
Lieutenant Worf strode through knee-deep bluish grass, checking the semicircle of tents and keeping an eye out for ngahyak, fanatics or anything else that might be encountered on this planet. It was mid-morning; a pale yellowish moon hung low in a lavender sky, and the grass was rustling in the warm breeze. There was a faint, tart smell to the air, a little like nutmeg. Humans might have thought the surroundings rather appealing – softly rolling countryside, low shrubs, high grass and unbroken peace. Lieutenant Worf couldn't have cared less. Half his mind was on organizing the camp as efficiently as possible, and as quickly as it could be managed. The other half was with his captain. They had returned to the Enterprise that morning – Riker, Tyr-Aurell and himself. Doctor Crusher had remained behind – to their delight Secretary Ghanig and Minister Sylnra had managed to arrange a short tour of the hospital after all, especially for her. Picard had remained behind as well; in fact they had seen him only briefly on his way to a breakfast with Chancellor Nyk and the cabinet. Worf's security detail, Beya and Sanders, had been trailing after him.
They had beamed back down, without Riker, into this thinly-populated region – to find Ito and Melendez with a hand-picked team of technicians and scientists in possession. Camp had been pitched early that morning, and although Worf had no reason to suspect that anything important had been neglected he liked to make sure. He was just opening his mouth to comment on an unlabeled crate left out in the open for no obvious reason when suddenly a faint, all-too familiar screeching rose from the grass almost underfoot. He started violently, stopped in his tracks, and just managed not to jump backwards. The screeching continued; the little horror emerged from behind the crate, stopped right in front of his boots, and sat there emitting a sound that seemed to drill straight into his brain. Worf set his teeth and retreated with as much dignity as he could muster. Somehow he had managed to ban the miserable thing from his thoughts – hoping against hope, perhaps, that Tyr-Aurell might not bring it. And here it was.
The screeching stopped once he had backed off a few steps; a couple of seconds later the creature had evidently forgotten about his presence. He saw blades of grass bending in its immediate vicinity, and there was a soft chomping sound. It was eating he realized, and then he remembered what Beverly Crusher had told them about the bluish grass.
It was mildly toxic. Some native life-forms such as the ngahyak ate it, but it rendered the ngahyak's flesh inedible even for the Yalnragians. (Not that anyone would ever dream of killing and eating a ngahyak, the doctor had added rather hastily.) Thus the tribble was eating a toxic plant. Worf stood about five steps away, considering.
He could pick up the animal and go in search of Tyr-Aurell, of course – a revolting thought. He could also leave it to its own devices, and let nature take its course. Most animals knew what was good for them. If the tribble was stupid enough to eat poisonous grass it deserved to die. Klingon logic, pure and simple.
Lieutenant Worf felt a tiny stab of conscience as he turned away, and proceeded to lose himself in his duties.
By early afternoon the Enterprise, in orbit high above them, had reported the approach of a small herd of ngahyak. Ten minutes later Tyr-Aurell, Commander Ito and another exobiologist, Ensign Robert, were lying in wait on the crest of a small hill, tricorders at the ready. Worf was there as well – not because he was in the least interested in a herd of ugly, useless animals but because it was his duty to protect Tyr-Aurell. The animals appeared at one end of the shallow dent stretching out below them, and proceeded to traverse it at a leisurely pace. There were eleven of them, including a couple of half-grown calves. The scientists whispered excitedly among themselves. A long-distance measuring unit was humming softly. „About two sixteen by three thirty-one... to thirty-four," muttered Robert. „That'll be the alpha male."
„Can't you get anything more precise?" hissed Ito.
„Not at this distance, sir."
„We'll have to get closer anyway," said Tyr-Aurell, stretched out on her stomach with a pair of binoculars clamped over her eyes. Down in the valley the animals were slowing, and several put their heads down to graze. „Can you see any guardians?"
„No, Emissary. – Perhaps this herd doesn't have any," Ensign Robert added hopefully.
„Don't count on it. They may keep out of sight. I wish I knew how old those calves are."
„Popular tradition says calves are born only when all three moons are visible," remarked Ito. „If that was true we could pin it down to within a couple of days."
„It isn't," said Tyr-Aurell with conviction. „Wasn't there some information about their gestation period?"
„I think Minister Sylnra said something about thirty-five weeks, but he wasn't too sure."
„And they have a nine-day week here. Well, it sounds plausible. We'll ask the guardians."
„They have steadfastly refused to supply data to scientists, Emissary."
„We'll ask them again," decided Tyr-Aurell, sounding rather like Picard to Worf's ears. By now Worf was beginning to admit to himself that he was feeling heartily bored. There seemed to be very little need for a protector. He had brought a tricorder (as well as his phaser), but his companions were evidently doing well enough without his assistance. The animals down there were grazing. The shrubs that hid the four of them from view were rustling. The first moon had vanished from the sky, and another, smaller moon had appeared. He found himself thinking of the captain.
The night before when they were finally allowed to withdraw he had found an opportunity to speak with Picard, and to remind him of the importance of avoiding unnecessary risks. The captain had agreed with everything he said, which was gratifying – but Worf had a nagging suspicion that some of this reasonableness had been due to the fact that Picard was asleep on his feet, and thus meant nothing at all. Mentally, he heaved a sigh. The captain's blithe refusal to take proper care of himself became an immediate and constant worry the moment he had to let him out of his sight. And deep in his heart he knew that no one else quite understood the issue. His thoughts promptly went to Beya and Sanders. He wondered, briefly, if he had made their duties clear enough, then realized that it must be nine hours now since he had last seen them – or the captain. Nine. All of a sudden he knew that he had to make sure – now. I will call the capital.
He was about to withdraw, cautiously, when he became aware of a soft rustling somewhere behind and downhill from them. It sounded like an amateurish attempt at going stealthily, at least by his own standards – he could hear the grass bending under two pairs of feet. „Emissary," he hissed, turning to take a look and groping for his phaser at the same time. Two individuals were making their way towards them – Yalnragian males, dressed in billowing tunics and trousers of pale blue and green that almost merged with the background. Each carried a large oval tambourine on a strap slung over one shoulder.
„Layghiar," Tyr-Aurell said softly. „Guardians. I don't think there is any danger, Lieutenant – I'll talk to them." She got to her feet, brushed a few seeds and dry stalks from her gray coveralls, and started off downhill to meet them. Worf drew his breath in through his teeth with a soft hiss. Then he flung Ito and Robert a brief „Wait here" before hurrying to catch up with her. Time to do his duty.
x x x
By the time a sleek executive antigrav vehicle had carried Chancellor Nyk and Picard back to the massive government complex the captain was beginning to feel slightly out of sorts. The interminable Yalnragian day was beginning to tell on him, and so was the company. After breakfast with the cabinet, and a dozen journalists, the next item on the agenda had been an informational visit to the national center of ngahyak studies which had taken just under seven hours, and included yet another unpalatable lunch. And when the chancellor introduced him to the team of lawyers and politicians responsible for drafting the preliminary outlines of the government's ngahyak laws Picard felt himself longing for a few minutes of silence and solitude.
It wasn't to be, of course. „We are so honored, Captain," said the Honorable Thulgig, minister for internal affairs, who appeared to be heading the team. „Please, take a seat. We'll bring you up to date on our recent progress. Chancellor, you'll be pleased to learn that we have found a turn of phrase that should preclude possible doubts about the respect we are paying to the Books of the Ancients. Er... Captain, do you wish your security to stay?"
Picard shot his escort an annoyed look. „No," he said firmly. „Lieutenant, I'll thank you for waiting for me in the hall outside. Both of you," he added, prompted by a feeling that he couldn't possibly be too clear on the issue. Lieutenant Beya hesitated.
„Captain, with all due respect –"
„Outside," the captain repeated, putting a certain stress on the consonants, and shut the door in Beya's face before sinking into a chair. „Thank you, Minister. I'm looking forward to this."
He wasn't, but at least it should give him an idea of what was expected of him, and getting rid of the security for the first time that day was progress of sorts. He could only guess at the sort of briefing the two had received from his ever-zealous security chief, but Worf must have made his point exceedingly clear. That much he could tell from the manner in which they had shouldered their way into the cabinet's breakfast room, the vehicle, the exhibition rooms and the cantina, utterly impervious to the annoyance of the local security, silent, watchful and single-minded. Sanders was fair and freckled, and Beya was dark, but they were a uniform six feet four by two, towering behind and above him like a wall, and after a day of it he was heartily tired of their attentions. I'll be developing claustrophobia if this goes on, he thought, wryly, and decided to have a word with them as soon as this meeting was over. Which, he realized the moment he gave his full attention to Minister Thulgig's exposition, wasn't likely to be anytime soon. After all it's barely six hours after noon, the captain recalled with a certain grim humor, trying to rearrange himself in the chair in a manner less damaging to his spine.
x x x
It was all Lieutenant Worf could do to keep himself from fidgeting irritably on his camp stool. To his left, Tyr-Aurell was busy explaining, for the third time, that the use of tricorders constituted no insult to the status of the ngahyak, and was wholly incapable of doing any harm whatsoever to the animals. Somewhere behind his back the tribble was munching away, inaudible to anybody else but a constant strain on Worf's nerves. And right opposite the two layghiar were sitting cross-legged on the ground, listening attentively but evidently not convinced.
They had been at it for the best part of two hours now. Ito, Melendez and the rest of the team were keeping out of sight, probably evaluating what little data had been gathered so far. For two hours Tyr-Aurell had been patiently listening and explaining, listening and explaining again.
„You have no intention of touching them?" demanded one of the layghiar.
„None at all. We'll make recordings, but we needn't get into physical contact with them."
„What about your tools? Will they touch the ngahyak? We know there are subcutaneous transmitting devices..."
„There are. They cause the animal no discomfort at all. Most animals don't even notice being tagged."
„That is unimportant. These devices are an insult and an abomination. You cannot use them."
„Very well," said Tyr-Aurell after a moment, with what sounded like a tiny exasperated sigh to Worf. „We won't – I promise. They won't come into physical contact with anything we brought along."
„Including food?" said the second layghiar.
„Including food. We won't feed them."
The two looked at one another, exchanging a few murmurs. Then the first layghiar spoke up again. „And you won't take anything away from them – no fur samples and the like?"
„Nothing. I give you my word. I told you, your government is watching this very closely. If you were to lodge any complaint at all the repercussions could be very unpleasant. Even if I had a mind to harm a ngahyak – and believe me, I haven't – I wouldn't risk endangering this mission."
More murmuring, and a few quick finger signs. „You are a scientist specializing in endangered animals?"
„I'm a zoologist, and my specialty are disputes over animals. Quite often that means that I am studying endangered animals."
„Very well." Both layghiar stood. „We have your word, then," the spokesman said, „that you won't touch a ngahyak yourselves, and won't let it be touched by any of your devices. You won't hinder them or disturb them in any way at all, you won't do anything that could harm them, and you'll keep out of their way as much as you can."
„Yes. I can promise that."
„We will speak with our friends. You'll have our answer tonight." And with that, they turned on their heels and strode away. Worf gave a soft hiss of disgust, his first utterance in two hours.
„I suppose," said Tyr-Aurell, rising from her camp stool and stretching her back, „that didn't go too badly. I wonder if those animals are still within range?"
„You will not be able to tag them now," stated Worf.
„No. It's very annoying. We'll have to get very detailed life-form readings on the individuals, feed them into the computer, and trust your ship's sensors to keep track of the creatures. What a waste of time and technology." She sighed. „Lieutenant, I apologize. There doesn't seem to be much to do for you here. Something tells me you'd rather be with your captain."
Worf started, suddenly remembering. „I was going to call," he said. „I will do so now." After a couple of hasty steps in the direction of his own small tent he stopped abruptly. He had forgotten about it in between, but now the munching sound forced itself upon him once again. For a moment he wavered between instinct and honor, grimacing with disgust; then honor won. „Emissary," he said with slightly hurried determination, „your pet appears to be eating this planet's grass. I believe it is toxic."
Tyr-Aurell tilted her head, listening. „Oh, yes. I think it's been doing that all day. It'll be all right – you wouldn't believe the things tribbles can eat without coming to any harm."
Worf just managed to suppress the snarl of frustration that rose in his throat. By all appearances he had been sacrificing his convictions for nothing. He had almost reached his tent when she called after him: „Lieutenant?"
„Yes, Emissary." He turned reluctantly. That call to the capital –
„Thank you for pointing this out to me. I appreciate it."
„You are welcome," he managed, and escaped into the dimly lit interior of his tent.
x x x