The Garden - Melissa Scott [62]
"And I'm just about done here, too," Paris answered. It was probably just Kim's inexperience that made him sound nervous, he told himself. Still, it was a good thing they were returning to the citadel. "It's about a twenty-minute flight for us, so we should return as scheduled. I'll inform you if there's any change in plans."
"Right," Kim said. "And I'll do the same. That should give me time to finish this field, though."
"Great," Paris said, and waited. If there was anything wrong, now was the time for Kim to say something, do something, that would signal a problem.
"I'll see you at the citadel," Kim said. "Kim out."
And that should mean there was nothing out of the
ordinary, Paris thought, turning his tricorder on the final stand of pale gold grain. The star-shaped heads were heavy with seed-edible seed, he corrected himself, watching the tricorder readings change, similar enough to terrestrial wheat to make it worth trying to make flour from them. The Kirse planet was almost unbelievably fertile, the plant life incredibly useful to humans. And I would love to know why I don't trust it, Paris thought, closing down his tricorder. / like Gray-rose, even if she's a maniac pilot, but there's something about this planet that I just don't feel right about.
Something moved in the grain field, tossing the star-shaped heads like a nonexistent wind. Paris reached for his phaser, and Grayrose sprang to her full height, her wings rising to cup the still air. Revek, slower to respond, rolled to his knees, but Paris was not surprised to see a phaser in his hand as well.
"What is it?" Revek called.
Grayrose lifted her wings still further, and beat down hard, rising a few meters into the air. She hovered for an instant, wings working, and then let herself softly down again. "A gardener. Alone, I think, but I think we'd better get back to the shuttle."
The disturbance was moving off, but not far, the grain shivering into stillness less than fifty meters away. "Trouble?" Paris asked, and moved closer to Grayrose.
"Probably not," the Kirse answered. "But since we're nearly done-" She broke off, shaking her head.
"Better not to take chances," Revek muttered, joining them. He had not yet holstered his phaser, Paris saw, and checked his own instinctive movement. He returned his tricorder to his belt instead, and looked at Grayrose.
"I thought Adamant said the gardeners were harmless."
The Kirse didn't answer, started instead for the path that led back to the beach and the waiting shuttle. Paris glanced at Revek, but the other human studiously refused to meet his eye.
"If we're in danger," Paris said, "it would improve our chances if you told me what was going on."
Grayrose didn't seem to hear. Revek gave him a quick glance, but said nothing. And that, Paris thought, is outside of enough. He caught the other man by the shoulder, and swung him around so that they stood face-to-face. "I want an answer, Revek."
Revek jerked himself free, but not before Paris had seen genuine fear in his eyes.
"The gardeners by the citadel are-mostly- harmless," Grayrose said.
Paris jumped-he hadn't heard or seen her turn back to them-and then wondered if he'd hurt their chances of a deal by grabbing Revek. The Kirse seemed fond of him-why, he added silently, I don't know-but Grayrose made no comment, fixing him instead with her luminous pale-blue eyes.
"Because they are so close to the walls, to the citadel itself, they have been more extensively adapted than the rest," she went on. "Here, where there is little reason to interact with them, they are left mostly intact. Which means they are hostile even as they are useful."
"How do you mean, hostile?" Paris asked. He heard the grass rustle behind him, and glanced back quickly, his hand on his phaser. He could see nothing in the sea of grain, not even an unexplained movement of the seed heads, but out of the corner of his eye he could see Revek watching