Tooth and Claw - Doranna Durgin [63]
The stench, however, remained.
76?
“Nothing,” Worf said. “I was … momentarily concerned.”
“No need,” Riker said. He glanced at Akarr—who had so far remained silent, assessing the mood of the Fan dreans, sizing up Worf—and decided to ask anyway, the question he’d been headed for before he distracted himself with inner dialogue. “How’s the Ntignano situation?”
“Not good.”
Details. That’s what Riker loved about Worf… he never failed to cut through to the heart of a matter.
Shefen returned with the sap he’d collected, apologizing when Riker hissed with pain as he applied it. “Just do it,” Riker muttered at him, as Zefan took the remainder of the sap to the cave.
Soon enough, they were back on the trail home, with Akarr strangely quiet about trophies, Ketan in a travois litter and Rakal limping along behind, and both Fan dreans keeping a careful rear guard. Riker and Worf led the way out of default as opposed to plan, while Riker struggled to keep a sharp watch out for day predators-as for some reason, the image of tranked ski ks falling out of the sky kept intruding on his thoughts. Finally the image faded, leaving him only with questions. He and Worf readily swapped point position again, bat’leths at the ready, retracing their trail out from the shuttle. “Watch the ground,” Riker warned him at one point, and succinctly described the snake-thing, rueful that Takan’s trank gun rode emptied in someone’s pack, corroded by skik poison. The next time he came across one of those snake-things, he wanted more than a bat’leth in his hand.
“If we don’t make faster progress, we’ll miss the portal opening,” Worf commented some time later. And then, later yet, when they were farther ahead of the rest
of the party, “Captain Picard is most displeased at the deadlocked status of the negotiations. I believe he is attempting to reopen discussion, but Atann is—”
“Stubborn,” Riker grunted, trying to summon energy he didn’t have to maintain the pace, and intensely annoyed to feel his body fail him. Behind them, Shefen had picked up the end of the litter Gavare dragged, trying to speed the injured Tsoran’s progress. “Like son, like father.”
“Unless we return Akarr before the portal closes for its two-day recharge cycle, I don’t see how the captain can accomplish negotiations with the ReynKa,” Worf said, pausing momentarily to check movement to the side and catching up to Riker with several long strides. “At least, not in any time frame that will prove useful to the Ntignanos.”
“Frankly, Mr. Worf,” Riker said, too lightheaded with exhaustion and pain to make any attempt at keeping up morale, “I don’t see any way the captain can accomplish negotiations with these people if we do bring Akarr back. In any time frame.”
Worf looked at him, seemed to consider and assess. “Things have not gone well.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“I know enough,” Worf said.
Chapter Eleven
akarr thought again of the skik claws in his vest pocket. Thought unhappily of them.
They’d come from an animal he hadn’t personally downed. In fact, despite the many opportunities, he hadn’t tranked any of the various creatures the Legacy had thrown at them. Riker was the only one who’d been truly blooded on this kaphoora. Riker and the Klingon, who’d killed the skik.
They had weapons. Real weapons. The knives… the bat’leths…
Akarr wasn’t allowed weapons, not by the rules. And neither should these humans have them … except some part of him wasn’t altogether too sure he wasn’t glad of it. They, then, bore the real responsibility for his safety.
Nothing had prepared him for the deep Legacy. No kaphoora training came near it.
Still, he’d survive. He might not have drawn blood,
but he’d kept the sculpers off, and unlike Riker, he’d stayed out of the way of the ski ks
Riker had been helping Akarr’s own men.
Now, Akarr was glad that between the remnants of his uniform in the affected area and the gloppy sap,