The Children of Hamlin - Carmen Carter [88]
“It was even better when the animals were here,” said Wesley as he and his mother approached the first run of fences. The farm seemed eerily quiet, as if a sorcerer had cast a sleep spell over the land.
Beverly drew in a deep breath of the honeyed air. Old memories, overlaid by her life with Jack and a career in Starfleet, stirred to life. “Oh, I can imagine what it was like. After all, I was born on an agricultural colony.”
Her son unlatched a wooden gate and they passed through. He took the time to close it, even though no lambs would get loose now. Standing in the empty main yard, Wesley pointed out the pens for pigs and the hutches that had held the rabbits. The dripping of a leaky water pump echoed loudly when he stopped talking. Absently rubbing a callus on his hand grown from drawing water for the horses, Wesley tried to make sense of his labors. “I still don’t see why they’ve chosen to live this way. The whole point of technology is to save people from so much hard work, to give them time to do other things.”
“Yes, I suppose,” said Crusher. “But I can understand the Farmers’ reluctance to use complicated machinery. The people of my homeworld would have suffered far less if they hadn’t been so dependent on technology.” The devastation on Arvedda III had occurred before her own birth, but Crusher’s grandmother had passed on the memory of those harsh years. “When essential equipment broke down, they were helpless. The survivors were forced to relearn the old ways on their own, without teachers.”
“I hadn’t thought about that,” said Wesley.
They rambled on in companionable silence until their circuit of the room brought them back to the gates. With one last look at the darkened fields, Wesley shut off the program.
Picard crossed the threshold of the observation lounge, then stopped short when he saw a shadowed figure standing by the windows. He traced the outlines of the silhouette. “You’re up late, Dr. Crusher. Another call from Tsala’s firstborn?”
“No, I’m just brooding,” the woman replied, but she smiled at Picard when he walked up beside her. “Careful, my mood may be contagious.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“I was thinking about Ruthe,” said Crusher. “She’s lived with humans for the last fifteen years. Jean-Luc, what if she’s changed too much for a return to life with the Choraii?”
Picard felt the muscles of his neck and shoulders The Children of Hamlin tighten under the heavy weight of her question. “Then she will have no place left to go.” The sadness of that knowledge overwhelmed him for a moment before he shook his head. “No, that’s not true. She will have to learn to live in both worlds.”
The doctor carried the thought even further than he had intended. “That’s what we’ve done here aboard the Enterprise. We’ve left our homes and chosen to become wanderers, just like the Choraii.”
“We’re a trifle less bloodthirsty,” said Picard dryly.
“But I grant the similarity.” And the comparison helped to still the last of his doubts at having left Ruthe behind. “Have you finished brooding, Beverly?”
“Yes, I have.”
“Good,” Picard said. “Then you’ll appreciate hearing about one of our first officer’s adventures.” The story would make its way through the entire population of the starship by the end of the next day, and the captain wanted the chance to tell it at least once.
Andrew Deelor hadn’t slept, but he waited until the arrival of morning before throwing off the cover from his body and rising from the bed. He wasn’t hungry but he would go in search of food rather than remain here any longer. Gathering up the crumpled cloak that had served as his blanket, he headed toward the cabin door.
As he walked the length of the passenger suite, Deelor realized Ruthe had made no imprint on the interior. Her only possessions had been the cloak and her flute, and she had dropped both to the floor of the transporter chamber. He had given the flute to the young Farmer girl. Children taken from Choraii ships developed into exceptional musicians; perhaps her brief time with them would have an effect. Now all that was