Tooth and Claw - Doranna Durgin [44]
The kaphoora party stared after him in shock. Any number of trank darts dangled out of the retreating sholjagg’s thick fur; plenty of others had disappeared into the foliage. Riker doubted there was much left in the way of ammunition.
No, the Tsorans had never hunted the Legacy this deeply before. And they clearly had no idea what they were up against.
Finally, Akarr spoke, his words quick and decisive. “We will find a place to stop for the night,” he said. “We will gather wood, as a group. We will make clubs and spears as we can. No one of us will ever be out of sight of another.” And he looked up at Riker, as if defying him to find fault with any of it—to make note of the fact that he was effectively breaking all the rules the Fandreans had set for such expeditions.
Riker straightened, drawing back his sore shoulders; he tilted his head in the slightest sign of acquiescence. He did not say, told you so.p>
But he thought it very hard.
Chapter Eight
worf closed the newly provisioned med kit firmly enough to elicit a protesting snick from the container, and La Forge looked up from his last-minute adjustments to the new secondary shields. He knew enough to recognize the glower on Worf’s face for the impatience it was. “Just a few more minutes,” he said. “It won’t do Commander Riker any good if you go down, too.”
“It will do him even less good if he is eaten before I arrive,” Worf said implacably.
Well, that was true, too. La Forge fine-tuned the frequency interaction between the two shields, and confirmed that both scavenged generators from the scooter pods were precisely aligned. There. He stood back and gestured to the shuttle controls. “Remember, keep these engine shields on at all times, even if you leave the shuttle. Other than that… it’s as ready as it’ll
ever be,” he said, and that was true enough. It didn’t have enough seats—some of the returning passengers would have to sit on the floor—but it had Tsoran medical supplies and drugs, extra rations suitable for all the species involved, and a waiting crew of several Fan drean rangers.
“It is about time,” Worf said, not quite under his breath.
“Yeah, well, it’s about timing, too,” La Forge said. “Don’t forget that it takes tremendous energy to open that portal. It’d be one thing if we could be sure of hearing communication from within the shields, but—”
“I know,” Worf said, and then stopped abruptly, wearing the expression he often had when he seemed to be restraining himself. He recited, “The portal can only open three more times, and it will do so in six-hour intervals.”
Unfazed by fraying Klingon temper, La Forge added, “After that, you’ll have to wait two days before we can begin the cycle again. Recharge time.”
“It is a ridiculous system,” Worf grumbled.
“Which is why I’ll be working to solve the communications problem the whole time you’re in there,” La Forge pointed out. “We’ll be trying to raise you, so keep your ears open. If it works, we’ll take the portal off the timer and wait to hear that you’re ready to come out.” He glanced at the newly mounted shield generators, couldn’t think of anything else to adjust, and reluctantly headed for the shuttle door. “Good luck, Worf.”
Worf’s rumbling reply was low enough that La Forge wasn’t sure it was meant to be heard. “A Klingon does not need luck.”
No, of course not. But La Forge’s smile quickly faded as he stepped aside for the Fandrean rangers. Maybe Worf didn’t need luck, but he had the feeling that Commander Riker and the Tsorans could use a goodly dose of it.
Riker crouched to pluck a dart out of a wide, rubbery leaf, dropping it onto his palm. He straightened, and, holding the dart up to eye level, rolled it slightly in his hand, examining it. Takan, on a similar dart-and wood gathering mission, came by and held out his