To Storm Heaven - Esther Friesner [15]
“Aye, sir. Worf out.” The Klingon looked from the cage to Dr. Crusher. “We will settle this later,” he growled, and strode from the room. He was not sure, but he could have sworn he heard the faint sound of Dr. Crusher’s suppressed laughter before the door shut behind him.
“Lt. Worf reporting as ordered, sir.” The Klingon’s practiced eye took in the scene awaiting him on the bridge. All three members of the Orakisan delegation were present. There was a pervasive air of excitement about them. Even the normally dour Legate Valdor seemed tempted to smile.
“You’re just in time, Lt. Worf,” Captain Picard said from the command chair. “I wanted you to be here for this.” “For what, sir?
The captain indicated the scene currently displayed on the bridge viewscreen. Seven worlds and their attendant moons orbitted a G-class star. “We have just entered the Ashkaar system. Ashkaar itself, the Skerrian colony we came here to contact, is the fourth world from this system’s sun. When cursory longrange sensor scans of the planet’s surface revealed scattered concentrations of humanoid lifeforms, I had Ensign Kolb open hailing frequencies.” Worf looked at the Orakisan delegation.
Ambassador Lelys was beaming, her face radiant with hope as she gazed at the viewscreen. “I assume you received a response, sir?” “Yes. An extremely brief transmission from an observatory on the main continent. They requested that we repeat our transmission as soon as they could notify the gřvernment of our presence. We are presently waiting to receive the official response from that government.” “Signal coming through now, sir,” Ensign Kolb said.
“Put it on screen, Ensign,” the captain ordered.
At once the viewscreen was dominated by the smiling image of a well-fleshed, middle-aged male Who might have passed for Legate Valdor’s distant cousin. The luminous irises of his eyes were the bright gold of sunflower petals, and his thinning hair was pulled into a willow-green plait slung over one shoulder like a pet serpent.
“Greetings, my friends!” he cried, making an allembracing gesture of welcome with his plump hands.
“I am Udar Kishrit of the Masra’et. I welcome you with joy. When we were first informed of your presence, we could not believe that the gods had seen fit to grant us such a blessing. It seemed like a dream, and yet—But there you are. Can you see me all right?” “Yes,” Picard replied. “I trust you are receiving our transmission satisfactorily also?” Udar Kishrit chuckled. “Yes, yes, praise the Net of Blessings. You understand, our own system of communications is limited to this world. I did not expect it to be powerful enough to send or receive offworld signals so well.” Ambassador Lelys stepped forward, her face still alight. “Udar Kishrit, I greet you in the name of Orakisa, your long-lost sisterworld, like Ashkaar, a daughter of S’ka’rys.” “Ashkaar?” Udar Kishrit repeated. His amiable look collapsed into a frown. “There is no Ashkaar.
This is Ne’elat. Ashkaar is dead.”
Chapter Three
COUNSELLOR TROI WATCHED ATTENTIVELY as the fourth delegation of Ne’elatian children approached the center of the vast civic gardens where the ceremony of welcome was taking place. In their long, white robes, their carefully braided hair ornamented with silver starbursts, the young ones were a beautiful and charming sight. They came forward singing, their arms laden with flowers, and added these to the imposing pile of blossoms already mounded at Ambassador Lelys’s feet.
“Don’t worry, my dear, they are the last,” Troi overheard Udar Kishrit whisper in the ambassador’s ear. “Your visit is a gift to us, and this ceremony is our gift to you. Our teachers say that one