Tooth and Claw - Doranna Durgin [75]
“We are fifteen kilometers from the portal,” Worf announced, triggering the shuttle door and powering down what was left of the engines. “Take what you will need in that time.”
Med kits—especially the Tsoran med kit. Ketan looked much better since Gavare’s ministrations before takeoff, but he’d no doubt need painkillers before the end of the walk—not that he’d be doing much actual walking. They’d left the litter behind, but Ketan wouldn’t be going anywhere without some serious support from his fellow Tsorans. And they’d need food, and definitely water. Riker hoped for a breeze, now that they were out of the trees, but the heat would no doubt remain oppressive.
Unless it rained here as it had rained in the jungle. In which case they might have the floodplain to worry about.
Riker joined Worf at the door, looking out across the rough, undulating landscape, beyond the kilometers they had yet to traverse and onward to the sparkle of the force field barely visible from this side of the barrier. There, starting at the horizon and extending up in a square, was a dark blot. “What… ?” he said, as it slowly shrunk into nothingness—and then, realizing, stood suddenly straighter, lifting his chin a little at the challenge before them. “The portal. We just missed the second opening. And now we’ve got six hours to make those fifteen kilometers.” Over rough terrain, with most of their party filling the role of walking wounded—or barely walking wounded.
“Then there is no time to waste.” Worf disappeared back into the shuttle, no doubt to reclaim his bat’leth.
Riker followed.
On the Enterprise, Atann straightened from his final “kill,” panting like a dog. His stiff leather vest—clawed, dented, gore-stained and in other ways much the worse for wear—spoke as much of his effort here as the blood—not his—splashed on his fur and the similar blood—his—trickling from his nose.
Picard wore creaking leather-plate armor and bore his own bruises—and took his cue from Atann’s changed posture. No longer ready for the next opponent. “Computer, remove holocharacters.”
In silent compliance, the computer cleaned the area
of temporary bodies, abruptly stopping the approach of the creature—a stouter, Tsoran-sized version of the original beings Worf had programmed—that had been slinking up on Atann.
They stood in silence for a moment, assessing one another, Atann somewhat more warily than he had earlier. “You were right, Captain Picard. Seeing this aspect of your people does help me to gain a better understanding of you.”
“I hope it does, ReynKa,” Picard said, quite sincerely. Because otherwise, you’re in for a really big surprise.
“I am now ready to take this knowledge back to Tsora with me and consider it as regards the other matter we need to attend together.”
Picard gave him a quiet smile. “Oh, I think not, ReynKa.”
Atann stilled his panting with visible effort and focused his entire self on Picard—stiff, but a little too tired to call up his most daleura-filled expression. “Again, you are not making yourself understood.”
“I expect that you understand me perfectly well, and you simply don’t like it.” Picard tossed his Klingon sword away, letting it clatter against the partial structure of the ruins behind him. “We came with polite words, making every attempt to respect your daleura in our interactions both formal and informal. That doesn’t seem to have done us very much good. Now, we’ll deal with this situation as we choose.”
“And choose to return home.” Atann raised his voice as if preparing to call for his men, even glancing over his shoulder out of the habit of having them there.p>
“They can’t hear you,” Picard said. “This deck is, out of necessity, perfectly soundproofed.” He walked around Atann, circling him, playing the part of the
hunter. “ReynKa, we came here for a very specific reason. It was not to ferry your son to Fandre, and it was not to play waiting games with you and your ReynSa. We came to discuss