The Eyes of the Beholders - A. C. Crispin [58]
The girl’s white head jerked up, startled, then she hastily turned off the computer before the Vulcan could catch more than a glimpse of what was on the screen. It appeared to be some kind of grid the child had been tracing with her fingers, as the computer’s voice identified each area. “Oh, Selar!” she said a little breathlessly. “I didn’t know you were there!”
“I regret having startled you,” the Vulcan said. Then, curious about what the child had been doing, she remarked, “Apparently you were studying.”
“Yes … yes, I was.” Her blue features twisted uncertainly, as though she were wondering what the other had observed of her “studies.”“I was studying the layout of the starbases near here,” she conceded finally. “Memorizing where everything is, in case I ever get to visit one again … then I can find my way around.”
“You have visited starbases before,” Selar said, still puzzled, but certain that there was some hidden purpose here. “And you should not plan on wandering around a starbase alone. That would be most unwise.”
“Yes, I’ve been to starbases, with my father,” Thala admitted. “But this was different. I wanted to …” She hesitated, then continued in a rush, “Wesley promised to take me the next time we docked at one, and I want to impress him by knowing where everything is!”
“I understand,” Selar said, admitting to herself that the explanation was perfectly logical … but that still didn’t make her believe it.
For a moment, the doctor considered telling the child about her own decision to pay Thala’s passage to Vulcan and see that she was properly placed in one of the excellent learning and medical institutions on her world, but she decided against it. She would speak of it later, after their current mission was completed (assuming they did successfully make it back) and all the arrangements were firmly in place. Better not to raise the child’s expectations until she was sure everything would work out; after all, there was still plenty of time.
Besides, Thala was still overcoming the effects of the terrible shock she’d received from her artifact-induced nightmare. Emotional upsets—even happy ones—should be avoided until she was completely over the effects of the trauma she’d undergone.
So, instead of asking the questions in her mind, Selar only nodded. “What about lunch? Or should I go by myself?”
“I’m coming!” Thala leaped up happily, her small features brightening. “I’m starved!”
The small boy walked barefoot on the side of the road, feeling the warm dust rise up grittily between his toes. It was hot in the light of the double suns, hot and bright. The rainy season on Khitomer was still many days away, and the brown and grayish-green countryside shimmered with the afternoon heat. Small puffs of whitish dust rose up around Worf’s bare legs as he trailed along behind LengwI’ his pet Targ.
The Targ was a large gray animal, heavily muscled, with a snouted face and small beady eyes. The beast stood taller than the boy’s waist, even though the child was big for his years. Worf was still a long time from his first Rite of Ascension, but already he dreamed of it—dreamed of the day that he would be a warrior, traveling the star paths in a battle cruiser. The boy dreamed also of the day that he would command such a ship, imagining himself in the central seat, feeling in his mind the weight of leather and metal on his shoulders.
The Targ suddenly snorted and dashed ahead into the shadow of some trees. Whuffling and grunting savagely, it rooted beneath them, its tusks tearing into the earth, uprooting the pale green ground covering. There was a sudden terrified scuffling, then a triumphant squeal from the Targ as it pounced, striking something with its sharp-hooved forefeet, then seizing the small, furry creature in its jaws. Blood gushed from the unfortunate burrower’s throat as the Targ’s sharp teeth ripped it nearly in half, then the Klingon animal dispatched its prey in two messy swallows.
“Good boy, Lengwl’!” Worf praised. The Targ grunted and wriggled with pleasure, shoving its sticky snout