Tooth and Claw - Doranna Durgin [2]
Ensign Gage burst into the room, her expression warring between annoyance and chagrin. “Captain, I’m sorry, I—” Alarm won; she threw herself to one side of the door, clear of the impending and intractable presence of ReynTa Akarr,” Picard said, unruffled. “We weren’t expecting you just yet.”
The ReynTa barreled through the door and drew himself up to examine them all critically, with no pretense of doing anything else. Though he was short, his stout and muscular nature left no doubt about his strength, and his bearing reflected a confidence in that strength. He’s only a kid, Geordi reminded himself, feeling himself bristle under the scrutiny of the Tsoran. Then he took a look at the Tsoran’s hands, where four fingers and two opposable thumbs came equipped with thick, clawlike nails. Yeah, a kid who could rip my face off, VISOR and all… He suddenly had no envy for Commander Riker, who would be stuck in a shuttlecraft with the ReynTa all the way across the graviton-eddy-sprinkled system to Fan dre. A look at the commander revealed that, aside from one distinctly raised eyebrow, Riker wore his poker face.
“I chose not to wait,” the ReynTa said, his translated words partially lost in the throaty under-purr that accompanied them. With his severe over bite and a diminutive chin covered by a pouch of flesh, he probably couldn’t articulate English if he tried. His lower lip looked flexible enough to cover his over bite but at the moment he displayed his wickedly sharp incisors in all their glory. “I chose to see that arrangements have been made to my satisfaction.”
Geordi exchanged a quick glance with Data—it wasn’t easy for other people to tell when Geordi glanced at them through the VISOR but Data could do it—and he noted Data’s keen interest in the nuances of the personal exchanges taking place. Earlier in his career on the Enterprise, Data would have interrupted to query the participants on the fine points, but he’d learned better.
Geordi hoped.
Riker stood, a respectful gesture, and nodded at ReynTa Akarr. “We were just finalizing those arrangements,” he said. “If you’d like to wait outside, we’ll be ready to discuss them with you momentar—”
“I spoke to Captain Picard,” Akarr said, making no attempt to soften the interruption. “I wait for his words.”
In the utter silence of response, Riker drew himself up—lifting his shoulder, adding the tilt of his head that sent wise ensigns scurrying for cover. Trouble brewing.
“Commander Riker’s words are to be considered as my words,” Captain Picard said, staring directly at Akarr, his gaze implacable and unrelenting—but his austere and astonishingly hairless features without aggression. Not that he had the means by which to back it up. Too lean to carry Tsoran strength, no claws, no fangs, only one thumb … Akarr considered the rest of the humans. They, unlike him, had no decency of fur to cover their naked skin; they might as well be the youngest younglings. At least they all wore clothing over their arms, unlike the Federation ambassador Nadann lesson, who often went about with her arms bared as if she were the coarsest flesh peddler—oblivious of the way Akarr’s honored mother, ReynTa Tehra, averted her eyes. As if any Tsoran would avert her eyes for less!
Otherwise, the humans were not remarkable. He’d never get used to their faces, and the short distance between their eyes and mouth. Or the way their jaws met neatly instead of allowing their upper teeth to thrust forward for proper food handling—and fighting, if it came to that, although in modern Tsoran society, it seldom did.
Soft. It described Ambassador Jesson, and it described all the rest of them, too. Even now, they just sat around the table, looking to their captain for guidance. Except for Commander Riker—an imposing human, Akarr would give him that, and with eyes of startling, unnatural blue—who maintained a subtly different posture than the rest of them, but not one that meant anything to Akarr.
All that mattered to Akarr