A Call to Darkness - Michael Jan Friedman [53]
The dead Klingon just stared at him.
Data went on. “However, this knowledge only clouded the issue of motivation for me. If it was difficult to understand why the Klah’kimmbri would want to participate in these events… it was even more difficult to understand why our own people would do it.”
Tap tap. Tap. Mercifully, the image of the Klingon fled. It was replaced by that of a small, sledlike hovervehicle. It had but one occupant-a Klah’kimmbri in rather elaborate military garb. Almost as elaborate, in fact, as that worn by the High Councillors themselves. Nor did the sled rider display a single stitch of armor.
Arrogance, thought Riker. It’s in everything they do.
“These individuals serve as a sort of police force,” said Data. “They seek out individuals who have deviated from prescribed behavior-and use weapons not unlike our own phaser pistols to inflict punishment. On more than one occasion, I have seen this punishment extended to the point of death.”
The first officer tried to appraise the figure dispassionately, but it wasn’t easy. “You say this is only part of the answer?”
“Yes, sir.”
The sled and its rider gradually grew smaller as the perspective expanded-none of Data’s doing, but rather that of the device that originally recorded the action. Now Riker could see what the Klah’kimmbri was hovering over-some sort of supply train, made up of primitive wagons drawn by A’klahn burden-beasts. Each wagon was guided by a driver.
“It appears,” said the android, “that a significant number of the conscripts are employed in nonaggressive activities. Such as this one-food supply. Similarly, there are medical personnel, bridge-building crews and the like. All support systems, if you will, for the actual combatants. And all engaged in what must seem-to them-to be innocuous, even humanitarian pursuits.”
Riker watched the wagons trundle down a mountain path. There were no signs of resistance on the parts of the drivers.
“In other words,” he said, “they don’t know what they’re supporting? They don’t actually get to see the combats?”
“The medical groups, of course, have an inkling of what is happening-though they can hardly refuse to help when they are presented with the wounded. The others, for the most part, have no idea. On occasion, a support group will be set upon by an enemy raiding party-and the noncombatants are exposed to the central experience of these conflicts. However, such incidents yield few survivors; the general support population remains essentially ignorant of the bloodshed it makes possible.”
For the time being, this particular supply train was safe. There was no sign of impending disaster. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t lurking around the next bend.
“As for the combatants themselves,” said Data, “they are generally representatives of traditionally belligerent races. I have noted the presence, for example, of Gorn, Pandrilites, Dra’al…”
“And Klingons,” said Riker, again encouraging brevity.
The android returned his gaze. “Yes. And Klingons. The point, sir, is that only those with a predisposition toward violent confrontation are placed in the role of warrior. Those who would take to the task most naturally.”
Riker mulled it over. It would have made for an intriguing case study, if he’d been back at the Academy studying xenology. But this wasn’t a chapter in some text-this was real. Somewhere down there, his crew mates were in real danger.
And anyway, it occurred to him that there was still a piece missing. He said so.
“Let’s say,” Riker posited, “that all your speculations jibe with what’s actually happening down there. That the off-worlders find their options limited by these airborne enforcers. And that they’re ignorant of what it is they’re supporting with their labor, so there’s no moral imperative to defy authority. Still-wouldn’t a member of a spacefaring culture-and presumably, that covers every off-worlder involved in this thing-place a premium on his or her freedom? I mean, even if A’klah were a garden of delights, wouldn’t the participants eventually rebel? Make an attempt