"It's not a game. She accomplishes her goal by avoiding computer-declared fatal injuries for the duration of the exercise time period. Of course, some of the crew do establish contests among themselves over who can stay 'alive' the longest." He stepped forward, commanding, "Computer, end demonstration."

The woman faded away in mid-sword; the creatures, a moment behind her.

Picard looked at Atann. "Would you like to try it?"

As if Atann could have said no.

Chapter Twelve.

the shuttle collius sat neatly at the very beginning of the crash path, not quite level but placed well in the available terrain; there was already a vine drooping over it, and stains indicating it had served as a resting spot for bird and beast. Katan's litter lay just outside the shuttle; Rakal sat beside it, and Gavare, a Tsoran med kit by his side and Shefen a.s.sisting, tended them both.

To Riker, it looked like home sweet home.

Worf stood beside the shuttle, alert, his hand on his bat'leth and his gaze moving constantly around the surrounding vegetation. Riker had no doubt Worf had spotted them long ago, although he'd given no indication of it. Too busy watching the area-and the only guard, since the Tsorans were deeply involved with their wounded.

He stumbled, then; Zefan came up beside him, trying not to be obvious about it. "I'm fine," Riker grunted at him.

"Of course," Zefan responded, without moving off. Akarr broke ahead of them both, running the remaining distance to the shuttle despite the heat; he knelt down by his men, pointing at Ketan's leg, examining the dressings draped over Rakal's arm, side, and leg.

"Ah," Zefan said with an under-purr-filled sigh, drawing Riker's gaze. "I'm not sure I was ever that young."

Riker grinned at him, a wry expression. "I can't remember it myself." Or maybe it was just hard to recall a youth based in snowy Alaska while the sweat trickled down between his shoulder blades. Nice shuttle ... nice, climate controlled shuttle... and finally, he was here. He stood before the Collins and wondered if he should sit, or if he should simply stay on his feet until he could sit for good. Worf looked directly at him for the first time. "We have a problem."

Riker felt his eyes narrowing. "And that is ... ?" "I cannot get the shuttle energy levels to stabilize" Akarr stood up. "More shuttle trouble?" Riker turned on him. "Don't. Even. Start." To perhaps everyone's astonishment, Akarr, though stiff and aggressive in posture, held his tongue on any response, giving Riker the chance to turn back to Worf, rub his hand over his eyes, make an internal note that the neutralizing sap on his back still stunk most stupendously, and say, "Will it take us out of here?" Worf bared his teeth. "Do you want guarantees?" "No, no," Riker said. "Heaven forbid there should be guarantees."

"Then, yes, it will take us out of here." Worf hesitated, tracking something through the upper trees before returning his attention to the conversation. "Lieutenant Commander La Forge speculated that the surge problem the Fandreans have been experiencing with the interlocking s.h.i.+elds and technology damper is to blame for problems with the Rahjah. He modified the Collins s.h.i.+elds with this in mind. It does not appear to have been completely successful."

"Define success," Riker said. "I define it as getting us out of here."

"We'll be ready to move Ketan in a moment," Shefen said, looking up from his ministrations.

"Let us know if there's anything we can do to help," Riker told him.

"Sir, I respectfully suggest that you go inside," Worf said. "There is a roed kit inside. Your wounds should be tended."

Riker said, "I was kind of getting used to the smell of the sap. What do you think? Not too bad, is it?"

Worf merely looked at him. Wordless, expressionless saying it all.

Riker put on the appearance of great deliberation. "I suppose it might get a little overpowering in a closed shuttlecraft. Especially if we're light on environmentals."

"We are," Worf said distinctly, "going to be light on environmentals."

"Let me help," Zefan offered. "I'm not familiar with specific human needs, but I know these injuries."

Riker nodded. "Thank you. Mr. Worf, keep an eye on things out here."

"Sir," Worf said, meaning as if you had to ask.

Zefan worked quickly but with a light and careful touch. Cleaned up reasonably well, filled with broad spectrum antibiotics, antimycotics and antivirals, his arm and back sprayed with a light topical anesthetic and his system responding to a mild hypospray restorative, Riker had to admit the time taken was well spent. The Tsorans were aboard and strapped in, the Fandreans had conferred about some issue they hadn't cared to share, and Worf had closed the shuttle door, only then securing his own and Riker's bat'leths in the weapons locker. Everything snug and cozy. Riker contemplated the large, hard-sh.e.l.led and slow-paced insect inspecting the juncture of the shuttle floor and wall, and decided to leave it alone. It could get off at the next stop.

He slid into the copilot's seat as Worf fiddled with the communications control. "I have sent a message telling them we're on our way," he said, not looking up at Riker. "I do not expect them to get it."

"Neither do I," Riker said. "We'll have to stick to the portal schedule. How are we doing for time?"

"We should make the next scheduled opening," Worf said, and this time he did glance over at Riker. "If the shuttle stays in the air."

"If," Riker agreed. "And if we miss it for some reason ?"

"We will have another opportunity, six hours later."

"And then two days after that," Riker said absently, eyeing the shuttle engine status monitors as Worf brought the engines up to full standby power and spotting the same sort of fluctuations-albeit more subtle ones-that had taken the Rahjah down.

"No offense, Commander," Worf said, "but I have no intention of staying in this shuttle's current atmospheric conditions for two days. We will make the first opening."

Riker grinned. "No offense taken, Mr. Worf."

Akarr, his voice full of some of the regal imperative it had lost over the last hours, inquired, "Do some of us need to get out and push this vehicle to start, Riker?"

"It is Commander Riker to you," Worf said. "And that will not be necessary." He made a few quick adjustments and Riker's eyes widened slightly; he had just enough time to sit firmly in his seat before the shuttle leapt into the air, climbing a nearly vertical path to clear the trees. Oblivious of the cries of protest, Worf immediately leveled their flight path. Then he turned to say casually to Riker, "Unfortunate power surge."

"Most unfortunate," Riker agreed sternly. "Do you have things under control now, Mr. Worf?"

"Entirely."

"Keep it that way."

And though the grumbling from the back of the shuttle ceased, Worf was unable to comply. He ran the shuttle slow and nap of the ground-a cautious approach despite his beginning maneuver-but while the power fluctuations remained more subtle than those the Rahjah had experienced ... they remained.

"We're not going to make it," Riker observed as the Collins slowly lost power; the landscape beneath the shuttle changed from thick, towering rain forest to shorter, less dense trees. They crossed a low ridge that ran endlessly in both directions, and the flat valley on the other side changed dramatically in nature. Too full of surface rock to support trees, it instead sported a patchwork of dark ground vegetation and sandy brown rock layers. Along the ridge ran a wide, flat, lazy river, and Riker got the distinct impression he was looking at a giant floodplain.

"No," Worf said, "we are not. But the power loss is steady and manageable."

"Take us as far as you can, then, and still provide a controlled landing." At least they had that much. And if Riker wasn't mistaken, he saw the faint glimmer of the Legacy force field in the distance.

He left the copilot's seat and helped himself to an empty seat in the back. "We'll be landing soon," he said, hoping for the chance to say more but only just barely getting his mouth open again before Akarr took over.

"We're going down," he said, a marked tilt to his ears and eyebrows that Riker hadn't seen in him before and couldn't interpret. Amazed disbelief? "Is it not possible for you people to build a shuttle that can travel across the surface of a continent without failing?"

It doesn't look that way. "Your engineers a.s.sured us, over our concerns, that our s.h.i.+elds would not only operate within this environment, but would protect our shuttle engine integrity," Riker said. "The Fandreans backed your a.s.sessment"-and at this, Zefan sat bolt upright-"and we trusted your skills. So if you want to a.s.sign blame, let's spread it around a little. Or else keep it to yourself, and work with the rest of us toward overcoming the problems!"

Quietly, Zefan said, "We were not consulted."

Silence. Akarr's mouth worked, but his gaze s.h.i.+fted from man to man, and ended up resting to Riker's left. He looked like a young man caught in a lie ... with the spotlight on... and trying to work up enough gall to bluff through it.

The silence stretched out into moments, during which Akarr looked as shocked as Riker felt, if nowhere near as angry. But the shuttle increased its descent, and he took it as a warning. Now was not the time, no matter what he felt building inside him. If nothing else, it gave him a kick of energy he had a feeling he'd need. He turned a hard look on Akarr. "When we get through this," he said, "if we get through this ... we're going to have a talk. My people to your people. Until then-"

"We did consult the Fandreans," Akarr said, making an effort to pull himself into a rigid posture. "Zefan simply has no knowledge of it-"

"-Until then," Riker repeated, biting the words off hard, not even bothering to stand, to use his height to emphasize the command status he was wrenching from Akarr, "we'll have to work together. Do you think you can do that? Because if you can't, tell me now, so I can find some other way to deal with the situation." He briefly entertained the image of Akarr, thrown over Worf's shoulder with a gag over his mouth, being carted from the landing to the portal.

Because this time, they really were going to have to walk out.

"We will do our part," Akarr said. "As always."

"I am about to land," Worf said over his shoulder. "It will not be smooth. Be prepared."

It struck Riker as a good way to end the conversation.

The descent speed increased even more; Riker watched as Worf tried to compensate, achieved partial success, and managed to bring the nose up just in time to jar heavily to the ground in a level-if somewhat abrupt-fas.h.i.+on.

"That's it?" Akarr said, clearly braced for another outright crash.

"For which," Zefan said pointedly, as he rose from his seat, "I am grateful. Your chief engineer's double s.h.i.+elding has clearly made a significant difference."

"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, a.s.sessing 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> 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 the navigational charts we need in order to save the Ntignano people. When we approached you about this goal, you indicated you were amenable to discussion about it. Based on that response, we not only came to your system, we allowed you the use of our shuttles, the expertise of my chief engineer, and the escort of my first officer." Picard lifted an eyebrow. "Did you think we wouldn't notice if you made no attempt to follow up on your end of the discussions?"

"Things changed. My son-"

"Is not relevant to this conversation." Picard lifted a hand to cut short Alarm's instant protest. "As crucial as his fate is to all of us, it is a separate issue. It is not a reason to discontinue discussions that we never even started!"

"It is reason enough to me!" Atann snarled. "We make our own decisions in this regard!"

"Look around, Atann!" Picard raised his own voice, meeting Atann's escalating body language, and gestured widely at the fight ground. "Why did you come here today? Because I was about to s.n.a.t.c.h you up and bring you here. Have you learned nothing from this exercise? We are not a people who give up easily. We are not a people who give up at all. We're not simply going to walk away without having even discussed the terms under which you're willing to give us temporary use of the charts for that crucial s.p.a.ce corridor." He rounded on the ReynKa, and pushed his voice back down low. "Unless you're going to tell me here and now that you brought the flags.h.i.+p of the United Federation of Planets out here on a pretense to run errands for you?"

"No, no, of course not-"

"Then you'd better find some way to convince me of that, and fast. Because we're not leaving here until you do."

Atann s.h.i.+fted his gaze from object to object until it rested off to Picard's left, very much like a man caught in a He ... with the spotlight on ... and surrounded by evidence of why he shouldn't even try to work up the gall to bluff it through.

Akarr seethed with resentment. Here they were, walking again, and Riker had somehow made it seem like Akarr's fault. Not only were they walking, they were a straggling, limping group, interfering with his final chance to collect a trophy-as if there was anything around here from which it was worth collecting anything, now that he had tranks that worked. The vegetation continued to trip them, the rocks twisted under their feet, and small scaled creatures ran away from their approach... but there was nothing here big enough to threaten them. And if it couldn't threaten them, it wasn't worth collecting. Yes, Akarr seethed.

It was so much easier than thinking about the things he'd learned on this trip.

Things like the fact that his people could betray him. Not only by outright treachery, but with ingrained patterns of daleura that deluded him-that deluded them all-into thinking he was prepared for this deep jungle kaphoora. Such thinking had created an att.i.tude that left him unprepared-for the aggressiveness of the predators, for their sheer size and number, for the effectiveness of their attack methods. He'd come without an adequate med kit... and armed with a false a.s.surance that had led him to march his men out into the Legacy, away from the safe shelter of the Federation shuttle. All because he'd never thought to question that daleura might drive his elders to a.s.sume and pa.s.s on a knowledge of things they hadn't actually experienced, simply because they could never admit it was so.

He had never even considered these things before. Hadn't even been capable of formulating the concept. And he hated the thought that they occurred to him now. Their existence took his neat world of daleura, posturing, and self-a.s.surance and turned it into something else-a place where the wrong decisions were made not honestly, but because no one could afford to open their eyes. A place where he himself could no longer act instinctively on his skills for preserving daleura, but would have to stop and consider the true ramifications of his actions.

That's what this trip had done to him.

He wondered if Atann had ever struggled with such concepts. But Atann had not dealt extensively with offworlders before now-at least, not offworlders other than the Fandreans, who were used to Tsoran ways and had found their own pa.s.sive counter-measures-with rules and regulations. These new offworlders had a lack of understanding, a tendency to challenge behaviors and decisions that had stood Akarr's people in good stead for generation after generation.

At least, as long as his people were only dealing with themselves.

Gah. His head hurt. Too many hours under this infernal sun. Akarr kicked a rock from his path, and watched with satisfaction as it took flight in a long, shallow arc and dropped out of sight beyond the next patch of vegetation. The others turned to look at him, and he pretended not to notice.

Were they even any closer to the portal? Too sybling hard to judge the distance of a s.h.i.+mmer in the sky.

And still he didn't think about the thing that truly bothered him. That someone hadn't wanted him to seize his trophy. Had sabotaged his dart supply so he couldn't. Because surely, that had been the intent behind the tampered darts. Denying him the daleura of this hunt, daleura no one else would ever have the chance to obtain. Federation flags.h.i.+p. Transport deep into the jungle.

Transport deep into the jungle ... When the leap of thought first hit him, Akarr stumbled over a root, barely catching his balance in time to save himself from a nasty fall. What if Zefan had been right? What if the Fandreans hadn't ever seen the report? If the coordinating engineer had falsified Fandrean approval? Both events led to the same potential outcome. What if it hadn't really been about his daleura at all, but something ... more? He could have died in that crash. The tampered darts. He could have died in the jaws of the Legacy's predators.

Maybe ... someone hadn't wanted him to come back.

Akarr tried to compose his face, to keep his thoughts from it. No one must know where those thoughts had led him, past conjecture and on to such complete treachery. It was a Tsoran thing, a private thing, and no one outside his family could ever know. It would damage them beyond repair, and ruin the dynasty that had followed his father's line for years almost beyond counting.

"Akarr?" Riker said, stopping to look back at him.

Akarr realized that he was standing alone, some distance behind the rest of them. And of course Riker had noticed. He glared at the man. It was all Riker's fault, this confusion of his-it was Riker who had been pounding at him since the very beginning of this trip. Presenting him with conflicting input-how could he not respect a man who fought with such determination as this one? How could he not despise a man who so flagrantly disrespected Tsoran ways? Always Akarr had found it easy to a.s.sign beings into one category or the other. Always until now.

"Are you all right?" Riker persisted, not wise enough to back off at Akarr's clearly meaningful expression. Human with a bat'leth, standing there, waiting stupidly for trouble With movement off to his side. Not small and skittery, not something blown about by the breeze. Akarr, his every fiber focused on glaring at Riker, gave the movement a startled look, a change that Riker did not ignore. But though Akarr examined the area carefully, he saw nothing. Riker's frown would seem to indicate a similar experience.