Vish paused expectantly, so Crusher asked the obvious question. "How many castes are there?"

"By the latest accounting, there are five hundred forty-three doc.u.mented trait-packages that are reproducible and distinctive enough to be accepted as formal castes. Of course, some of these groups are very small, since there is little use for their abilities in most situations."

"Five hundred forty-three?" The number was staggering. Any research into the genetics of such a system would require an almost incomprehensible number of controls. That meant some simpler order had to underlie the apparent chaos of the caste system or Vish had no better chance of obtaining answers from its research than the ancient human theologians had of determining how many angels could dance on the head of a pin.

Vish lifted all four arms upward in a "you asked" gesture. "If one works on the genetic level and uses the most basic definitions, the answer reduces to six. The females are tetraploid and the males are diploid, with only a few of each group developing as fertile individuals capable of reproduction. By tradition, the sterile females and males are considered as separate genders from the fertile. Interestingly enough, some of our research supports the traditional view of how deeply the differences run between fertile and sterile individuals. Then there are the neuters, those with inhibited genomes who fail to develop any s.e.xual characteristics even though they have the chromosomal signature for either male or female.

"Finally, within each gender-group are distinctive trait-packages of color, scent, size, and ability that form each caste. We know that certain traits, such as adult height and ma.s.s, are controlled by how much the larvae are fed, but certain apt.i.tudes are always linked with size. If the genetic coding for these traits is not present, no amount of food will produce a larger individual." Vish expelled its breath in a buzzing hum. "It's a very complex problem, and the more we study it, the less we seem to understand."

"I've had problems like that." The car swerved into a wide turn and the road climbed a steep embankment to rejoin the main highway as it approached the river. The spidery structure of the bridge, a gleaming web of steel and composite cables, stretched ahead of them. The river was a wide, smooth expanse of dark water, wrinkled here and there by current eddies or ruffled into whitecaps by the wind. Reminded of the raw, unharnessed power of nature on any planet's surface, Crusher shivered. An old Starfleet joke ran through her head, It's a nice planet to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there. Suddenly she wished she were back in s.p.a.ce, safely enclosed by the hull of the Enterprise.

Halfway across the bridge, a metal object clanged off the roof of the car. With an angry squawk Vish swung its seat around and slapped a series of controls. Armor plates dropped over the windows and the windshield. Behind them Crusher heard a m.u.f.fled explosion and then, like a string of firecrackers, several more in rapid succession. The car lurched, then picked up speed, racing away from their attackers.

"What's wrong? What's happening?" Crusher asked. Vish did not answer. She tried again, but the Jarada still would not respond. Reaching for her communicator, she signaled for emergency beam-up. Silence answered her.

After three more tries Crusher gave up. She was trapped in the speeding groundcar, blind and deaf. Her communicator was not working and, as long as the armor plates remained down, she could not see where they were going. Her only source of information was Vish, and the Jarada was not responding to questions either. What else can possibly go wrong? she thought.

Chapter Six.

IT SIMPLY WASN'T FAIR, Keiko Ishikawa thought as she stared in angry silence out the window of the school transport. A whole world to explore, fresh and untouched by any human-and the captain had a.s.signed her a partner as though she were a tenderfoot on her first a.s.signment. She was by far the most capable botanist on the Enterprise, and she didn't see why she should be forced to share credit for her discoveries with anyone.

And, to make matters even worse, her husband had chosen to throw a childish, jealous fit over the matter, as if Reggie Tanaka were her choice for a working partner. Reggie was a sweet, likable boy, she guessed, but she knew his incessant, cheerful talking would drive her crazy before this a.s.signment was over. Fortunately, for the moment he was quiet, his nose glued to the transport's window as he soaked up his first impressions of BelMinor.

Keiko sighed and focused her attention on the scene outside. The seats in the pod-shaped vehicle were designed to face inward, toward the center, but they could be rotated to let the pa.s.sengers see out the windows. She and Tanaka were traveling through a residential area that contained the most boring a.s.semblage of Jaradan architecture on the face of this-or any other-planet. If she saw another street of gourd-shaped modules plastered together into fairy-rings, Keiko thought she would scream.

This part of the city even lacked vegetation to give it variety. The few places where trees might have grown were now hard brown earth, compacted by Jaradan foot-claws until nothing could survive. The effect was harsh, sterile, and monotonous, characteristics that did little to recommend the people who lived here to Keiko.

"Ms. Ishikawa, is there anything I should know about our a.s.signment before we pick up the bug-kids?"

Bugs? Is that what they're calling them on the ship? From Tanaka's inflection, the name didn't seem derogatory, but with such nicknames, unpleasant connotations could develop rapidly.

She pulled her attention from the window and turned to her partner. They were the only pa.s.sengers in the vehicle, although as soon as the autopilot delivered them to the City Academy, they would be jammed arm to pincer with three dozen adolescent Jarada. "The first thing you should know about our a.s.signment is that we don't call them bugs. Their name for themselves is the Jarada and we should respect that."

Tanaka gave her an apologetic grin. "You're in charge, Ms. Ishikawa. Whatever you say."

He really is very handsome, she thought. With his dark eyes and smooth olive skin and the slight gap between his front teeth, he looked like her best friend Kiyoshi had fifteen years earlier. If Tanaka really would accept her authority, perhaps this a.s.signment wouldn't be quite so bad after all. "That's what I say. Nicknames are dangerous because you never know what will get tacked onto them. You of all people should remember that."

"I guess I don't study much history, I always preferred looking forward rather than backward."

She closed her eyes briefly, remembering the interminable history lessons of her youth. To maintain the glorious traditions of j.a.pan's past, j.a.panese history had been drilled into everyone in her prefecture from the time they learned to talk.

In particular, it was difficult to remember that someone who looked so much like her friend had not been surrounded all his life by the knowledge and experiences Keiko took for granted. "You're right about most of the history," she said, letting herself unbend a little. "But perhaps I can recommend a couple of texts for you and the parts that you would find interesting."

"Sure, Ms. Ishikawa. I'm always looking for new reading material." His grin washed ten years off his face, and Keiko wondered how old he really was. Clearly, he was older than he looked or he couldn't have graduated from the Academy, especially not with a scientific specialty. And a fellow scientist, no matter how much she resented his presence, deserved certain courtesies.

"If we're going to be together for the next two days, this formality is going to get tiresome. Why don't you just call me Keiko?" The memory of her husband's face, flushed with anger as he argued against her decision to come to the planet, flashed through Keiko's mind. The picture wavered before blending into last night's quarrel, when O'Brien had all but ordered her to beam back to the ship.

"I'll not be having any wife of mine running around on some strange planet with whatever crewman happens to be handy," he had yelled, so loudly Keiko was sure the rest of the away team must have heard him even though the door to the common room was closed to give her privacy.

"And I will not be humiliated for working with a partner when there is more than enough work for a dozen botanists on this planet!" she had answered in a low, furious voice, stung by his anger into defending Picard's orders. "I'm following the captain's orders, and you have no right to question them. Or me!"

The thought of O'Brien's jealousy stiffened Keiko's resolve to be nice to Tanaka. "And your friends call you Reggie, don't they?"

"That's right. How did you know? I rarely see you on the ship. We always seemed to be a.s.signed to different shifts or different projects."

Keiko shrugged, but his enthusiasm was contagious. The corners of her mouth lifted in a grin. "It's not that big of a ship. We do have a few mutual acquaintances."

The vehicle turned a corner and stopped in front of a large building. The City Academy had apparently been designed by the same architect who had given the rest of the city its monotonous uniformity, and Keiko decided this particular conglomeration of dirt-colored globs was no more interesting than any of the previous ones.

A group of young Jarada was milling around a pile of a.s.sorted packs and equipment. The youths came in all sizes and in colors that ranged from brown to red to gold to pale yellow. Two orangy-gold adults, barely taller than some of their charges, were attempting to bring order to the scene. Keiko hid a smile behind her hand, thinking that schoolchildren were the same everywhere in the galaxy. They always wanted to go on field trips and they never wanted to submit to their teachers' control. She doubted that this trip would be any different from the ones she remembered as a child.

Surprisingly, once their transport arrived, the young Jarada settled down. They stowed their luggage in the side compartments and filed aboard, taking their seats quietly. Most paired off with partners of similar height and color, but a few were mismatched for reasons Keiko could not discern. As the vehicle filled, the smells became overpowering. Each Jarada had a characteristic scent-cinnamon, sage, juniper, jasmine, and others Keiko could not identify-and the mixture amalgamated to form a powerful incense. Suddenly Keiko felt everything whirl around her, and her head seemed to float off her shoulders.

The next thing she knew, Tanaka was shoving her face out the window of the moving transport. Light stabbed into her eyes, and she was sure her throbbing head was going to explode, while the blur of the ground flying past them made it difficult for her to keep her breakfast down. Slapping at Tanaka's arms, she struggled to pull herself back inside the vehicle. "What are you doing, you idiot? Trying to kill me?"

Tanaka helped her back into her seat, adjusting the pillows that made the Jaradan-shaped contours more compatible with human anatomy. "You fainted, Ms. Ishikawa," he answered in his most formal tone. "I surmised that you might be experiencing an allergic reaction of some sort."

Keiko rubbed her temples, trying to get the drummer behind them to stop practicing the morning tattoo. At least her stomach was staying put as long as she kept her eyes closed. "That's a fair guess. I suppose our first aid kit is with our luggage."

"I'm afraid so. Do you want me to have them stop so I can get it?"

The thought was tempting and Keiko gave it serious consideration. However, she wasn't sure exactly what medication she needed, and admitting to the Jarada that she was allergic to them could mean an even greater loss of face. She brushed the hair back from her damp forehead, hoping she could manage as long as the window stayed open. The fresh air was reviving her and had reduced the smells inside the vehicle to a bearable concentration. "I'm not even sure they would stop for us, Reggie. The vehicle is on autopilot," she said finally. "And I'm sorry I snapped at you."

She heard Tanaka settle back against his own pillows. "That's all right. I knew the harness would hold you. But for that first instant I'll bet you didn't have a clue what was happening."

"That's for sure." Keiko forced herself to relax against the pillows. "I think I'll try to sleep." She had heard once that rest was the best restorative for allergy attacks, and right now a nap sounded like a fabulous idea. The quiet chittering of the Jarada and the smooth humming of the vehicle's tires against the road soon lulled her to sleep.

When she awoke, the vehicle was slowing, its tires bouncing on the uneven surface of a gravel road. Keiko rubbed her gummy eyes, feeling groggy and thoroughly out of sorts. Outside, dense cl.u.s.ters of trees crowded close to the road, reaching toward the windows with gnarled, twisted limbs hidden under plump, waxy leaves. The bus skittered and bounced from side to side, showing more bad moves than a boat on a choppy sea. The rough ride sent lances of pain through her temples and reactivated her nausea.

They couldn't have been on this corduroy road for long, she thought, hoping they were nearing their destination. Why couldn't we just beam there? she wondered. The Jarada had transporters but didn't seem to use them much-another example, she supposed, of how thoroughly their society was controlled by outdated traditions. She remembered that kind of thinking from her childhood, remembered questioning and arguing with the elders when their dictates countered her will.

"Are you awake, Keiko?" Tanaka's voice, coming from just behind her, was loud enough to field-test ear protectors. When she flinched at the volume, he continued in a softer tone, "Canjiir-that's the senior teacher-says we're almost there, that there's a clearing up ahead where we'll be making camp. After that the students have some sort of lesson and we're free to explore if we want."

Keiko pushed herself upright, feeling her muscles protest at the movement. The pillows had shifted while she slept, resulting in a configuration that was unfit for either human or Jarada. Groaning, she adjusted the padding until she was sitting level. "How long was I asleep?"

"Almost three hours. I thought about waking you, because you looked terribly uncomfortable, but I figured you might need the sleep, so I didn't."

"It was uncomfortable," she agreed, rubbing her neck to loosen a cramped muscle. A lock of her long, dark hair snaked free from its roll and tangled in her fingers. Angrily, she pulled out the pins, shook her hair free, and reknotted it with deft movements. "If the students are getting a lesson after they make camp, can't we listen in?"

Tanaka took his time answering, which told her the answer even before he spoke. "I gathered that we weren't invited to this particular meeting. My impression was that it was more like-well, like a temple chant or something, if these people actually have a religion."

"I'am sure they do. It's almost mandatory for cultures with their sociological index." Every autocratic society has an equally autocratic religion to reinforce its traditions, she thought, remembering her childhood again.

"Anyway, they don't seem to want us around, so if you're feeling up to it, I'd love to go exploring. I can't wait to get a closer look at these trees. Aren't they magnificent?"

Keiko risked another look at the dark and twisted growth that hovered over the road. Magnificent? The last time she had used that word to describe a tree had been fifteen years before, when she had been granted the honor of contemplating the exquisite perfection of her great-great-grandfather's four-hundred-year-old bonsai. The elegant sweep of the limbs and the graceful, spiraling trunk of the miniature cedar had captured the essence of "tree" perfectly.

Tanaka had to be a secret tree-hugger if he thought the wild, uncontrolled growth outside was beautiful. Still-that meant she could let him cruise the forest, cataloging tree species, while she worked on the gra.s.ses and flowering plants in the understory. For the first time Keiko was glad that Captain Picard had ordered her to work with a partner.

The vehicle jolted around a tight curve and into a long, narrow meadow. Bel-Major hung over the forest ahead of them, a bloated, mottled rust-and-tan globe that glared at them like an angry G.o.d, its lower edge speared by the misshapen tops of the trees. While she slept, the gas giant had risen, carried above the horizon by BelMinor's rotation. Keiko shuddered, thinking the huge planet looked ready to roll from the sky and crush them.

A stream appeared beside the road, dancing over a tumble of boulders and down timber as it left the forest. A short distance farther on, another stream joined the first, doubling its volume. Clumps of bluish gra.s.s covered the ground, in some places almost waist-high and in others cropped close to the dirt. A scattering of flowering plants was interspersed with the gra.s.s, the details of their structure obscured by the vehicle's movement.

The road curved again, crossing the stream at a wide, sandy ford. Ahead of them, a small lake occupied the center of the meadow. "Beaver-dam pond," Tanaka murmured. "Or, at least, this world's equivalent."

"Perhaps." Keiko looked at the lake more closely, trying to decide if he was right. They were on the upstream end, making it impossible for her to see what blocked the outlet. "If they don't want us around for their lesson, or whatever it is, we can check it out."

"That's a great idea! I can't wait to explore the interrelationships in the ecology. I mean, we're the first humans ever to set foot in these forests, and just think of all the discoveries we'll make. Whole new cla.s.ses of trees, structures and relationships we've never imagined-" He paused for breath, his eyes bright with excitement.

Keiko twisted toward him, wondering if his eagerness was genuine. "Tell you what-you study the trees and I'll do the rest of the flora."

"Really?" Tanaka's face lit up like a nova. She hadn't thought it was possible for him to radiate more enthusiasm, but apparently she had underestimated his wattage. "You'll let me work on the trees? Usually, when I'm on an away team, Lieutenant Deyllar wants me to catalog the lichens or something."

"I am not Lieutenant Deyllar." Hearing the sharpness in her tone, Keiko took a deep breath and forced a lighter, almost teasing note. "However, if you do find any lichens growing on the trees, be sure to catalog them. You never know which plants will have unexpected properties."

"You bet!" A broad grin split his face, his square, uneven teeth flashing against his olive skin. The vehicle made a last turn and stopped on a wide, sandy area next to the lake.

Before Tanaka could say any more, Canjiir called the bus to attention. Holding her true-arms over her head, she clacked her claws together. To Keiko's surprise, she wore a translating unit on her forearm which interpreted her words for the humans. The slender black unit matched the ones that Keiko and Tanaka wore.

"Student-citizens," Canjiir began, "we have reached our destination. As you know, the purpose of this exploration is to learn of our new world and all the life that shares it with us. We are also honored to have with us visitors from another hive, Keiko-Scientist and Reggie-Scientist. They are here to learn from us about our world and about our hive."

Heads bowed to acknowledge the introduction, even though Keiko was sure that the teachers had explained their presence to the cla.s.s long before the vehicle had arrived at the Academy that morning. Canjiir wagged her antennae to claim the right to continue speaking. "You will have one standard to set up camp, after which we will hold Full a.s.sembly as usual. Our visitors will join us for evening meal at sunset, followed by campfire discussion until sleep time. At planetset, we will begin tomorrow's activities. Are there any questions?"

Keiko glanced around, noticing how the young Jarada were fidgeting in their seats. Not surprisingly, no one had any questions. Canjiir signaled for the other teacher to open the door and the cla.s.s marched out. They seemed so quiet and orderly that Keiko wondered if she was missing something. Even the boys she grew up with would have been kidding and jostling each other to work off the excess energy acc.u.mulated by sitting for three hours. Frowning, she watched the youths as they retrieved their luggage and headed for the flat area Canjiir had marked as their camp, still strangely subdued.

Their equipment was, of course, in the back of the compartment. When the last Jarada had retrieved its luggage, Tanaka squirmed inside and pushed their packs out the narrow opening. As Keiko struggled into hers and stood, a wave of dizziness swept through her. She caught herself and leaned against the vehicle, waiting for the vertigo to pa.s.s.

"Are you all right, Keiko?" Tanaka reached out to help her, a concerned frown on his face.

She brushed his hand away, irritated that he had caught her in a moment of weakness. "I just stood up too fast, that's all." Pushing off from the vehicle, she started down the beach, looking for a campsite away from the Jarada. The two teachers were standing to one side, watching their students and talking in low tones. Again Keiko felt a p.r.i.c.kle of worry, a sense of impending trouble. She wished she knew more about the Jarada, to be able to translate her premonition into something more concrete.

A low ridge of boulders separated the sand near the lake from the rest of the meadow. As they pa.s.sed the area where the Jarada were pitching their shelters, the rock pile bent sharply toward the lake, then retreated to form another curving bay.

"Definitely artificial," Tanaka announced, studying the arrangement. "They must use this place often."

Keiko picked a level spot in the lee of the rocks and shrugged out of her pack. "Why not? It's more efficient than having to locate new places every time you want to run a group outing."

She burrowed into her pack, pulling out her tent. Tabbing the activator switch, she stepped back and let the single-person shelter unfold. The metal poles expanded and burrowed into the ground, anchoring the circular structure, while the double layer of duroflex fabric pulled the upper supports into shape. Keiko clipped the power pack into its socket and programmed the tent's controller for a comfortable internal temperature and for an external camouflage before tucking the unit into its pocket beside the door. Unsealing the flap, she shoved her sleeping bag inside and pulled its tab. It expanded to a mid-weight bag over a firm mattress which compensated for the ground beneath it. Pushing her pack inside, Keiko turned to see how Tanaka was doing.

"Tie!" He grinned, pointing to his own tent. He had programmed it to an orange so bright it was probably visible from the Enterprise. From inside came the last hiss of his inflating sleeping bag. "I thought I'd grab some lunch and then go exploring. What do you think?"

At the mention of food, Keiko felt her stomach lurch. She struggled against the nausea, dismayed that she would be catching something at such an inconvenient time. All her shots were current and she had pa.s.sed her last physical six weeks before. Struggling to hide her reaction from Tanaka, she pulled her tricorder and a couple of ration bars from her pack. "I'am really not hungry yet. I think I'll just walk along the sh.o.r.e a ways. You can catch up when you've finished eating."

"What? And let you be the first to discover that it is a beaver dam?" Tanaka's grin took any possible offense from his words. He dived into his tent and pawed through his pack. Finding what he wanted, he dropped his tricorder into its holster and strapped a full pouch of ration bars to his waist. "I'm ready when you are," he said, scrambling to his feet.

They started along the lake sh.o.r.e, leaving a double line of boot prints behind them in the sand. A light breeze gusted off the water, burdened with the scent of mud and waterlogged vegetation. Keiko swung her tricorder back and forth, recording a panoramic view of the lake and the meadow for later reference. Detailed scans of individual plants were the core of her work, but without the overview it was impossible to work out a planet's ecology.

Tanaka moved quickly, bounding back and forth like a child just released from cla.s.s. "I always forget how exhilarating it is to move in lighter gravity."

"It's only point nine. Hardly enough to make a difference." Still, maybe that was what was wrong with her stomach. Keiko tried hard to believe that, tried hard to convince herself that she was imagining her queasiness, but that didn't work either. The next thing she knew, she was kneeling on the sand, vomiting.

Tanaka was there immediately. "Here, rinse out your mouth." Where he had gotten the collapsible cup, she didn't know, but Keiko accepted the water gratefully. The sour taste wouldn't wash away at first, but finally she sat back, feeling light-headed but otherwise much better.

"I'm calling the ship," Tanaka said in a tone that brooked no argument. "If there's a bug down here that doesn't like humans, we need to know about it fast."

He touched his sleeve where his communicator was hidden in deference to Jaradan wishes. Silence answered him. He slapped it harder, but the device still didn't respond. Frowning, Keiko tapped her communicator, but it, too, was dead. She shivered, realizing how much trouble the malfunctions could cause. Without communicators, she and Tanaka had no way of contacting the ship if they ran into serious trouble.

Keiko stood, moving slowly to keep her stomach under control, and brushed the sand off her uniform. "I'm all right now, Reggie. It's probably something I ate."

"I'd still prefer to have the doctor look at you."

She snorted. "I'm not that delicate that I need a doctor for every little problem. You're sounding as bad as my husband."

"I didn't mean to." Tanaka's face flushed. "But I'd feel better if you'd at least take a nap while I run some diagnostics on the communicators."

His suggestion went against the grain when they needed every minute on the planet for collecting information. However, she still felt a little shaky, and without the communicators, regulations dictated that away-team members remain within earshot of each other. That severely limited what she could do. "All right, Reggie. I'll take a nap if you promise the communicators will be fixed when I wake up."

"I'll do my best. Otherwise, we're not going to get much work done, are we?" He gave her a rueful grin, his expression reminding her so much of her childhood friend that a surge of homesickness washed through her. What would Kiyoshi say if he could see her now?

"Certainly not as much as I'd like." Keiko scowled, wondering why both communicators should malfunction at the same time. It was an odd coincidence-if it was coincidence. Suddenly she realized they might have more problems than random equipment failure. The communicators were almost indestructible because they had to work under all sorts of conditions. Outside interference was the most likely explanation for two simultaneous breakdowns, but if the Jarada had caused the problem, why had they done so? However she looked at it, Keiko could find no explanation that fit the facts.

Chapter Seven.

"CAPTAIN." Worf's deep voice was harsher than normal. That, plus his vigilance in watching every direction of approach, betrayed his continuing distrust of the Jarada. To the Klingon, the layout of the Jaradan Prime Council Chamber, with its tapestries and hidden entrances, suggested a dozen ways to ambush an opponent. "I still believe my duty as your security chief is to remain with you at all times."

Picard turned toward the Klingon with a slight, exasperated shake of his head. "Mr. Worf, your a.s.signment is to go with Zelk'helvtrobreen and discover what Zelfreetrollan thought you would find so interesting."

"Captain, I must protest. Commander Data's best translation indicates that I will be attending a performance of the local equivalent of the-ballet." He said the last word in a tone usually reserved for some particularly filthy perversion, such as unconditional surrender.

The captain's mouth quivered with the effort to suppress a laugh. "Mr. Worf, we are at the moment guessing at our translations of half the Jaradan words we think we know. I'm sure our hosts are aware of your feelings about ballet, since they seem almost too well informed about us. We need all the information we can gather about the Jarada. Therefore, I'm ordering you to find out why the Jarada believe my Chief of Security would be interested in their val'greshneth."

"Yes, Captain." Dissatisfied, Worf turned away from the captain and Troi. Data had spent almost half an hour the previous night puzzling over the word val'greshneth. That was a record for the android-to have taken so long to produce so little. Val translated to "group" or "troupe," as best Data could determine. Greshneth was more of a problem, since it was also a compound word. The first syllable meant "movement" or "progress," while the second syllable was a modifier which, in some contexts, denoted "control."

Unfortunately, Data could not locate a definitive meaning for either of the compound words. He had insisted that "dance troupe" was only an approximation for the literal "group of controlled movement," but that guess had been enough to keep Worf growling for hours. Though Worf's adoptive mother had tried to teach him an appreciation of human cultural values, Worf never understood why she bothered. Such things were frivolous, beneath a warrior's notice, and he had more important things to do than watch a group of Jarada cavort for his benefit.

Worf's mental grumbling was interrupted by the arrival of Zelfreetrollan and his guide. Zelk'helvtrobreen appeared beside him so quietly that Worf's first impression was that the Jarada had beamed in. Seeing the Klingon's reaction, the chestnut-colored Jarada clacked its claws together in amus.e.m.e.nt. "Appearing as if from thin air is a good trick for a guardian, is it not?"