Star Trek - War Drums Part 13

"Captain Picard," said Drayton, rising and taking his arm, "let me show you some amazing insects that live in this sand."

"They can live here despite that acidic sea foam?" asked Picard.

"They have adapted," she explained. "They are beetles that have developed a calcium sh.e.l.l. Too much acid and they suffocate, but the sea foam seems to slide around them. It does not attack. There may be a symbiotic relations.h.i.+p, as the beetles finish specks of food the acid can't and keep the beach clean."

While Drayton commandeered the captain and Myra made notes on her tricorder about the sudsy creature in the tide pools, Ro stared at the ocean. It looked like an endless pool of blood slos.h.i.+ng back and forth in a steamy cauldron. The waves performed a mute dance under a somber sky-no birds flew over them, nor did fish leap from one to the other.

Ro was not one given to fits of imagination, but she could almost envision the great slabs of crust on the ocean bottom, all being forced upward by seething molten lava. This sea was dead because it was fighting a losing battle against underwater continents that wanted supremacy over Selva. It was a very young planet, indeed.

She turned back to look at Gregg Calvert and his joyous daughter. Ro couldn't help but wonder if anyone-Klingon or human-should be on this planet. It obviously hadn't come close to developing any sort of high-level life on its own. The species she had encountered, like the pit mantis and the sea sc.u.m, were extremely dangerous. The amount of habitable land was small, although destined to get larger. It might be a pretty nice place, she thought, if you could come back in a couple million years.

She looked back at the sea, wondering if it had really lost the war already. Perhaps Selva would develop into an aquatic planet, and the sea foam would evolve into a sentient being, not just the far-flung appendages of a hive mind. That would mean, she thought abruptly, that the land ma.s.ses in existence now would be flooded. It could happen, given the forces at work-great floods were part of the creation mythology of many races.

Ensign Ro's thoughts were abruptly cut short by a horrible screeching sound from the forest, and she turned around to see a scrawny young Klingon running toward them. Another lithe figure bounded after him, but when he saw the settlers he dashed back into the obscurity of the forest. The first ragged Klingon rushed onward, staggering as he came, and Gregg Calvert drew his phaser.

"Hold your fire!" ordered Picard. "There's only one, and he's unarmed."

But Picard talked to the wrong colonist, because Louise Drayton calmly drew her phaser and took dead aim. Before she could shoot, Ensign Ro flung a sinewy arm into her face and blocked her vision. She grabbed the phaser with her other hand and pulled it out of the doctor's grasp.

"What are you doing?" shrieked Drayton.

"The captain said not to shoot," snapped Ro. On impulse she checked the doctor's phaser. It was set to kill. She reset it to light stun.

"When we get back," she told Drayton coldly, "I'll show you how to set these things for stun."

Louise Drayton glared at her for a moment, then looked away.

The young Klingon finally realized he was no longer being chased, and he slumped to the black sand, breathing heavily. His exhaustion didn't seem nearly as bad as the deep cuts and gashes that covered his emaciated body. Ro and Picard rushed toward him while the colonists hung back.

"Turrok!" said the captain, recognizing the boy as he got closer. Kneeling down to put his arm around Turrok's shoulders, Picard was relieved to see that most of the gashes and wounds were healing and not as fresh as they looked from a distance.

Ro drew her phaser and stood guard over them, glancing both at the forest and behind her at the settlers, not sure where trouble would come first.

"You must go," gasped Turrok in Klingon. "Leave now. They are in the forest."

"How many?" asked Picard in Klingon.

"All," rasped Turrok. "Balak says to attack ... and kill."

Ro s.h.i.+fted uneasily. "I see more of them, sir. At the edge of the forest."

Picard didn't wait to see them. He tapped his comm badge and announced, "Picard to transporter room. Five to beam up." He glanced at Turrok. "Make that six."

O'Brien's response was drowned out by a shriek from the forest, and about a dozen young Klingons rushed toward them, wielding knives of various lengths. Ro, Picard, and Turrok were much closer to the mob than the Calverts, and the strapping youth in the lead was upon them in seconds. Ro aimed and fired a dazzling beam that spun the big Klingon around and dropped him to the ground at their feet.

"Energize!" Picard shouted.

From the forest Wolm could see the swirling lights that engulfed the humans and whisked them away to their magic land, that mysterious thing they called a "s.h.i.+p." Her comrades just stopped and stared at the strange apparitions. Then she saw Balak lying unconscious on the black beach. Wolm touched her swollen cheek where Balak had hit her the night before after stealing her pretty badge. Then she drew her knife.

The lithe Klingon dashed between the others before they even had a chance to see her. She crouched over Balak's stunned body, gripped her knife in both hands, and plunged it deep into his chest. The big Klingon gave an involuntary gasp and went to sleep forever as blood gushed over the hilt of the knife and Wolm's fist.

"Wolm!" screamed a large boy named Maltz. He grabbed the girl and tossed her away from the body.

The other warriors, Balak's closest allies and henchmen, just stared at the girl and their dead leader, unbelieving and uncomprehending. Maltz bent down and shook Balak's limp shoulders, calling his name, but he could see the waterfall of blood tumbling over his ribs, seeping into the black pebbles of the beach. Balak was no more. The younger members of the tribe stumbled out of the forest, looking numb and confused. The shreds of order that were left in their society had suddenly vanished.

Wolm crawled back to the body and retrieved her weapon. She stood and shook the knife over the fallen leader. "He had to die!" she proclaimed. "He wanted to kill flat-heads and never make peace. That is not way to live! We cannot kill and kill and kill. They have much to offer, and they give it freely. We will learn to fly s.h.i.+ps, make food out of air, and change into stars!"

Maltz snarled at her, "You will take Test of Truth!"

Wolm stood defiantly and brushed back her scraggly hair. "I will take it," she declared. "But you know I am true."

"The G.o.ddess will be angry," warned another.

"Let G.o.ddess punish me!" snapped the female. "I never see G.o.ddess. No one sees G.o.ddess but Balak."

"I saw her," said one young Klingon. "Last night. What if we not see her again?"

Wolm crossed her scrawny arms and said determinedly, "Then we make our own decisions."

Chapter Twelve.

MYRA CALVERT got a brief tour of the Enterprise after all, with Geordi trying to keep up with her as Captain Picard, Ensign Ro, Gregg Calvert, and Doctor Drayton a.s.sembled in sickbay. Turrok lay on the examination table, and Doctor Crusher cleaned and sealed some of the wounds that hadn't healed properly. Captain Picard stood with the others at a respectful distance, waiting to ask questions.

"Captain," said Gregg Calvert, "can you find out how they knew where we were going to be? Sometimes I think they must be psychic."

Picard held up his hand, demanding patience. "Turrok saved our lives by warning us," he explained. "At least he prevented another tragic incident. How is he, Beverly?"

The doctor scowled. "Considerably worse for wear than when he left here a few days ago. As you can see, he's been stabbed numerous times, beaten up, and apparently marched to exhaustion. If you want to question him, do it gently. He's mildly sedated, so you may have to repeat your questions." Crusher looked pointedly at Gregg Calvert and Louise Drayton. "Don't say or do anything that would upset him."

"We won't," said Gregg. "I just want to understand how they knew."

Picard leaned over the boy and placed a comm badge on the bandages that covered his thin chest. Turrok, who had been gazing at the ceiling, took a second to focus on the captain. "Captain," he said with a sigh of relief.

"Please rest," said Picard with a sympathetic smile. "I want to thank you for saving our lives."

"Balak," murmured the young Klingon, shaking his head. "He was wrong. Worf, Troi, and Data-they enter our hutch. They join with us. Wolm and I are so happy-killing was over. Then Balak go to see the G.o.ddess." Turrok squirmed on the table, and Captain Picard gently touched his shoulder.

"Don't upset yourself," said Picard. "You're safe here. We're all safe."

"Who is this Balak?" asked Gregg Calvert.

"Their leader," said Louise Drayton. "Let him go on."

"What happened after Balak saw the G.o.ddess?" asked Picard.

"Before he go we were friends," said Turrok. "When he come back he want to kill flat-heads again. He said he knew where they would be in the morning."

Gregg interjected, "The G.o.ddess told him that?"

Turrok nodded. "G.o.ddess right before. And Worf, Troi, and Data were gone. We could not talk to Balak-he dragged us out of hutch and hit us. Took badges from me and Wolm. We walk all night to get there-to the rainbow rock and little pools."

"d.a.m.n!" cursed Gregg. "They were tipped off!"

Beverly Crusher shot him a glare, and Picard gently patted the boy's shoulder. "You got away from them and warned us?" he asked.

Turrok nodded, and he seemed to be fighting back tears. It took a magnificent act of courage, thought Picard, to rebel against the only authority he had ever known in order to prevent more bloodshed.

"You rest now," Picard told the adolescent. "Worf, Troi, and Data will find your friends and make peace again."

When Picard pulled his hand away Turrok gripped his sleeve urgently. "Captain?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Can see forest on your s.h.i.+p?"

"Forest?" asked Picard, looking quizzically at Beverly.

"The holodeck," she offered.

"Certainly," agreed the captain with a smile. "I'm sure Doctor Crusher can find someone to take you there."

Worf prowled the top of the mound impatiently, keeping an eye on the forest that surrounded the island of dirt. Deanna Troi knelt at the far end of the mound, taking an inventory of their foodstuffs and supplies. Data was prowling the forest, keeping his sensors open for the Klingons.

The night before had been a lost cause, thought Worf. After an hour of tromping through the pitch-black forest to locate the source of the intermittent drumbeats they heard, they had decided on another course of action. The youths would return to their sacred mound at some point, and Data was certain he could find its location.

So they had rested for a couple hours until light trickled through the thick leaves, then set out for the mound, which was swiftly becoming their base of operations. The inactivity was frustrating to Worf, but even Data agreed that it was more logical to let the Klingons come to them than to wander around the vast forest looking for them.

Worf saw something move among the tree trunks, and he stopped to peer into the shadowy cathedral under the vast canopy of leaves. Between the row of trees a figure was moving so fluidly-yet so perfectly upright-that it could only be Data. Seconds later the android stepped from the forest and strode up the mound. Worf relaxed, and Deanna Troi rose to her feet.

"They are coming," said Data. He pointed behind him. "They are not traveling through the trees as they often do during daylight, but they are marching slowly, talking. I heard their voices before I sensed them."

"When will they be here?" asked Deanna.

"Estimated time of arrival," said Data, "is sixteen point five minutes, given their current pace."

"What is our plan?" asked the Betazoid.

"The way to a Klingon's heart is through his stomach," reiterated Worf. "We should call the Enterprise and put in an order for lunch-for thirty."

Deanna nodded. "I have some requisitions to make, anyway," she said. "I'll order the food and tell them to keep it waiting for our signal."

"Very well," said Data. "But I must suggest, after what I saw last night, that they may try to attack and kill us."

Worf turned to Deanna. "Have the transporter room stand by. If you call them, it is to send the food. If I call them, it's to beam us up immediately."

Captain Picard stood in the turbolift with Ensign Ro, Gregg Calvert, and Doctor Drayton. Geordi was meeting them in the transporter room with Myra, and the small party was beaming back to New Reykjavik. They had seen the beach, as they had set out to do, but they had seen things they didn't want to see. Picard was both encouraged and discouraged by the morning's events. On one hand, they had obviously won over Turrok, who risked his life and his whole existence to warn them. On the other hand, without the warning, they would have been cut to pieces by Balak and his charging warriors. Picard was concerned that both the colonists and the Klingons had to be won over one-at-a-time, and he wondered if they would have the time to do that.

Gregg Calvert was still shaking his head over Turrok's revelation. "Never," he muttered, "in my wildest nightmares did I think there was a spy-a traitor!-among the colonists."

"How can you be so sure it's one of the colonists?" asked Picard. "We feel a hidden Romulan base is also a possibility."

"Because this G.o.ddess knew where we were going to be this morning," snapped Gregg. "Either the G.o.ddess is a colonist, or someone from the colony is in contact with the hidden base. Either way, there's a spy in our midst. This explains how the Klingons knew our weaknesses, and where our parties were going to be. Thank G.o.d she didn't give them phasers."

"That would have tipped you off," said Ro. "You would have never found out about this if Worf and our people hadn't befriended them."

Gregg nodded resolutely and declared, "You have an ally now, Captain, I can tell you. We must make friends with as many of the Klingons as we can, however we can."

The turbolift door whooshed open, and Captain Picard led the way. "I wish you were in charge of New Reykjavik instead of Raul Oscaras," remarked Picard. "But do what you can to stop the violence."

Calvert nodded. "I'll try at least as hard as that poor boy Turrok. And to think we had him chained to a wall only a few days ago."

"The Golden Rule remains the best guidance in these matters," said Picard. "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you."

"Daddy!" cried Myra Calvert as the door to the transporter room opened. She and Geordi were waiting inside.

"We had a great tour," said Myra, grinning. "Although I told them they should be raising some fresh vegetables, because the replicator food just doesn't cut it. There are some important enzymes missing."

Geordi laughed. "If you ever send this child to Starfleet Academy, will you please let us know, so that we can arrange a transfer when she graduates?"

"I will," answered Gregg Calvert, hugging his daughter. He told her somberly, "I've learned some things, too."

"Riker to Picard," came a concerned voice.

The captain tapped his comm badge. "What is it, Number One?"

"Admiral Bryant wishes to speak with you. He says it's urgent."

Picard furrowed his brow. "Put him through."

"Captain Picard," said an authoritative voice. "Why aren't you on visual?"

"I'm down in Transporter Room Three," answered the captain, "with some visitors from Selva. If we need a secured channel, I can be in my ready room in a few moments."

"No, this concerns them, too," answered the admiral. "I hate to do this, but I'm going to have to pull you away from Selva for another mission. I'm sure you know about the war between the Aretians and the Pargites over the Aretian solar system. We've had a diplomatic team there for months, and we've finally achieved a breakthrough-they've agreed to let us chart the solar system and divide it equitably. We have to move quickly before this agreement falls apart."

Captain Picard cleared his throat uncomfortably and replied, "This is a rather tense time in our current mission. Is there another s.h.i.+p that could do the charting?"

"You're the closest s.h.i.+p," answered Admiral Bryant, "and both parties have faith in the reputation of the Enterprise. At warp speed the Aretian system is only six hours away from your present position, and I've promised you will be there in ten."

"Yes, sir," Picard said firmly. "Do I have complete autonomy with regard to the charting procedure?"

"Complete autonomy. You'll draw up the boundaries, and they've agreed to abide by them. There are several disputed moons and asteroids, and I'll have the background material sent to you. Obviously, you can return to Selva as soon as possible. I leave it up to you whether you want to leave personnel on Selva while you're gone. Not to belittle the two hundred or so people on Selva, but billions of lives are at stake in the Aretian system."