The Garden - Melissa Scott [57]
"Of course," Harp answered, and sounded surprised that he would even ask.
Kim touched his communicator, a little reassured by her attitude. "Kim to Voyager."
"Voyager here." To his relief, it was Janeway herself who answered.
"Captain." Kim paused, trying to figure out the best way to convey what needed to be said without offending the listening Kirse. "I just wanted to apprise you of a slight change in plan. Mr. Paris will be going to-I believe you said the Lakeside fields?"
Harp nodded once.
"To the Lakeside fields," Kim went on, "and I'll be working in fields nearer to the citadel."
There was a little silence, and Kim would have crossed his fingers had he been able. "Very well, Mr. Kim," Janeway said at last. "We'll be keeping in contact with both of you. Voyager out."
Was there a slight emphasis on the word "both"?
Kim wondered. It certainly sounded as though the captain had gotten his message. "Then we're at your disposal," he said, to Harp, and only then wondered if it was a felicitous choice of words.
The Kirse seemed unaware of any double meaning. "Excellent," she said, and looked at Grayrose.
"I'll take a shuttle," Grayrose said, in answer to the unspoken question. "And Thilo."
Harp nodded. "This way, then, Kim."
She gestured, and Kim suppressed a start as the heavy note of the Kirse transporter sounded again. A gate, taller and narrower than the arches inside the citadel, appeared in the previously featureless wall, and through the new opening he could see the gentle slope that led down to the gardens.
"If you want," Harp said, apologetically, "I can get us a shuttle, but it isn't far to walk."
"Walking's fine," Kim said, and looked at Paris.
"Right," the pilot answered. "I'll see you back here in-how long is it likely to take us to look at these fields, Grayrose?"
"I think you should allow at least four hours for a proper survey," the second Kirse answered. Her voice was a little lighter than her-was Harp a sister, Kim wondered, or were the Kirse simply possessed of fewer physiotypes than most species?
"I'll see you back here in four hours, then, Harry," Paris said.
"Right," Kim answered, and Harp gestured toward the new-made door.
"If you'll come with me?"
It was hard to suppress his misgivings as he followed the Kirse through the long tunnel. Although she wasn't tall, the tips of her wings nearly brushed the ceiling, and he saw her relax visibly, the pearl-gray membranes shivering, as they left the tunnel. Behind
him, the Kirse transporter whined again, and he looked back to see that the door had vanished. Harp followed his gaze, and said, apologetically, "I can't leave it open, or the gardeners will get in."
"Gardeners?" Kim asked, and Harp shrugged one shoulder, slanting a wingtip toward the first stand of trees at the foot of the low hill. Several of the creatures they had seen on landing were gathered around one heavily laden tree, some scrabbling in the dirt by its foot, the rest stretching for the fruit that hung from the upper branches. One jumped repeatedly toward a fruit so large that Kim could see its ripe roundness even at a distance, ignoring a rock that would have given him the height he needed to reach it. They didn't seem to be intelligent, Kim thought, if you defined intelligence as tool-using.
"They're a reasonable makeshift," Harp said, "but they can be a nuisance."
Before Kim could answer, or even think of which of his dozen questions to ask first, she had lifted her wings, brought them down with a dull clap of displaced air. The creatures looked up, little eyes suddenly wide and afraid, and then scrambled in a body over the low hedge that bounded the tree and vanished into the tall grass of the next field.
"Why'd you do