Chapter Sixteen
Stardate 54194.2
Near a Kreenja village, Northern continent - N'ilmuta IV
As Kreenja went, Chuliho of Warmden was fairly typical. He was slightly under one meter in height, bipedal with two large, black eyes, erect ears, a small but sensitive nose and covered with a thin layer of fur. His was reddish in color.
Chuliho was 17 cycles of age, roughly middle-aged for a Kreenja. He was a very social being, also typical of Kreenja, and curious as well. So when he noticed a strange scent on the air as he drove his hurntha cart back to his den-village, he stopped to investigate.
He allowed the two Hurntha - short, stocky bovine-like creatures with prehensile snouts, to graze on the sweetgrass while he moved into the forest. Chuliho wasn't exactly afraid, but his ears were perked up. There were predators in the woods that could hurt him, but this scent differed from that of a Gromboo or Virunk. Their smells were both rank and strong. This scent was, well, just different . . . not unpleasant, but unlike any scent he'd ever encountered. He moved a bit farther into the dense foliage, but saw nothing, though the scent lingered. It seemed stronger, too, as he moved forward.
Chuliho was torn between his innate curiosity and a strong self-preservation instinct. He wished to discover the source of this intriguing smell, but what if it was dangerous?
He let out a low noise, a cross between a growl and a whine, as his anxiety grew. He had a small blade in his shoulder pouch, but it was scarcely a weapon - more of a tool, really. Chuliho decided that, perhaps, he should return to his cart full of Sciir roots, when a sudden warbling noise caused him to freeze.
* * *
Lt. Commander T'Vel turned her head toward Ensign Jurling, and fixed him with a piercing stare. Jurling quickly deactivated the tri-corder scan that he had inadvertently activated, caught up in observing the small being scant meters away. They were lying prone underneath a bush, attempting to remain unseen.
T'Vel placed a finger over her lips and slowly turned back to observe the creature, now standing stock-still, its nose and ears quivering. Their stealth-suits provided a degree of visual camouflage and even masked their scent to a degree. Apparently, the locals had very developed senses.
The Vulcan Science Officer made a mental note to remind her staff of the importance of keeping their scanners in silent mode when conducting blind studies. Apparently Ensign Jurling had neglected that protocol. Too late to remedy that, now. She looked at her own tri-corder to get the bearings of the rest of the away team. Commander Tamura and Lt. Commander Pralax were twenty meters away. Corpsman Estoban and Lt. Pascal were closer to the road, but well-concealed. Though she did not believe in luck, T'Vel estimated the probability that they would remain undiscovered to be 71.458% in their favor.
* * *
Ensign Hans Jurling gritted his teeth and silently cursed his stupidity. How could he have forgotten to mute his tri-corder? Even worse - how had he been so clumsy to activate it? He had no doubt that Commander T'Vel would deal with him severely when they returned to the ship.
He forced his attention on the small creature which stood, petrified, a short distance away. It reminded him of a spindly, Terran primate, but with features that were more felinoid, save for the very large eyes. Yet, it was very different from both. It's simple clothing and shoulder sack indicated a primitive, yet intelligent culture.
As he observed the small creature, he was astonished and dismayed when it slowly turned its gaze directly toward him.
* * *
Chuliho listened intently, but did not hear the strange sound repeat. It had sounded like an avian - almost. Yet, the sound was unlike any avian he had ever encountered. And the scent, though faint, was still there.
A portion of his brain processed both the scent and sound, filtering out other, familiar sensory input. It was an autonomic function that allowed the Kreenja to locate and avoid danger. Unconsciously, Chuliho's head turned slightly, and his gaze fell on a shadow under a bush. His brain told him that the shadow did not belong. Something lay in wait for him there - something very strange.
* * *
USS Endurance
Stardate 54194.2
Standard orbit - N'ilmuta IV
Captain Yeager entered Dr. Menedez' office and noted the presence of Counselor Benessa Shain. He smiled wryly.
"I suppose the Counselor is here to help me process the bad news?"
The CMO and Counselor exchanged looks before Menendez spoke.
"Captain, I've gone over the test results a dozen times. I'm sorry to say that they indicate that your body is rejecting the bio-synthetic implant."
Yeager raised his eyebrows and blew out pent-up breath. "I see. Well . . ." He looked back at Menendez. " . . . how long before George quits working?"
Shain frowned. "George?" she asked, puzzled.
"That's what he calls his leg." Menendez returned her attention to Yeager. "Captain - I can't answer that with any degree of certainty. Latent rejection is rare. In the cases I studied, it varies from weeks to months. In some cases, there is a gradual break-down of neural function. In others, the break-down occurs quickly."
The Captain nodded, trying to process his situation. "So, what are my options when the leg . . . fails."
Menendez swallowed. She had dreaded this question. "Captain . . . Jesse . . . I can't replace your leg with another bio-synthetic leg. Even if we had the capability on this ship - which we don't - the chance of another rejection is nearly 100%. However, we do have options!"
Shain watched Yeager closely, but his expression remained unchanged. He was also doing an excellent job of guarding his feelings. Too good a job, she mused.
The Doctor continued. "One, we can replace the bio-synthetic leg with a cybernetic replacement. It would, in time, function as well as your other leg. Plus, there is almost no chance of rejection."
"But it would be a 'fake' leg," observed Yeager.
"In a sense, yes," conceded Menendez, "but it would look natural and provide you with full mobility."
Yeager didn't ask if it would feel natural. "You said options - plural. What else?"
The lovely Spanish Doctor hesitated. "It's a long shot - a very long shot . . . but I may be able to arrest the process of rejection."
The Captain frowned. "But you told me the process is irreversible!"
"It is - what I mean is that it always has been irreversible. But I've had a lot of experience dealing with various neuropathies. If I can stop the deterioration of the nerve sheathing, I may be able to halt the process of rejection."
Yeager nodded. "Well, as long as I can get around, I won't be choosy. Thank you, Doctor." He turned to leave.
"Captain?" Counselor Shain restrained Yeager with a hand on his arm. "I'd like a few moments of you time, please."
"You can use my office," said Dr. Menendez as she dropped a Feinberger scanner into the pocket of her lab coat. "I've got some physical exams to conduct."
"I smell a set-up," said Yeager, dourly.
"Yes, you do!" said Menendez, smiling brightly. "And, as CMO, I'm ordering you to resume your scheduled appointments with Counselor Shain. No more excuses, Captain." With that, she strode from the office.
Shain smiled impishly at Yeager who dropped resignedly into a chair.
"Alright, Captain - let's talk!"
* * *
Chuliho suddenly turned and bolted in the direction of the road. He ran in a blind panic, heedless of obstacles before him Unfortunately, his chosen path was leading him directly toward Estoban and Pascal.
T'Vel did not hesitate. She rose from concealment, leveled her phaser, and fired a mild stun charge that caught Chuliho between the shoulder blades. He dropped immediately into the soft cushion of leaves and lichen that covered the forest floor.
The rest of the away team trotted over to the small, prone creature. Tamura looked pissed.
"Commander T'Vel - explain yourself!" he demanded, angrily.
T'Vel regarded Tamura cooly. "I stunned the creature to prevent cultural contamination. In two point one six seconds, he would have encountered Lt. Pascal and Corpsman Estoban. Logic dictated that I prevent that."
"By shooting the poor blighter?" asked Pralax, incredulous.
T'Vel raised an eyebrow. "What would you have me do, Mr. Pralax? Allow the native to see us? Violate the Prime Directive? I followed acceptable protocol for this situation.
Tamura nodded curtly, though he was clearly still unhappy. "Very well, Commander. But who broke silence and activated their tri-corder?"
"That was me, sir," admitted Ensign Jurling. "I . . . neglected to place my scanner in silent-mode.
The First Officer glared at Jurling. "I'll discuss that with you later, Ensign." He turned back to T'Vel. "Now what?"
"I recommend we avail ourselves of this opportunity by taking the native back to the ship, run in-depth scans, then return him safely before he regains consciousness. Dr. Menendez should be able to administer something to induce short-term amnesia."
"Gawd, it's like old Terran stories about alien abductions!" exclaimed Pralax. "Are you suggesting we bugger the poor bastard with probes, T'Vel?"
"Certainly not, Mr. Pralax," she replied, calmly. "I must admit, I do not understand the reason for your unseemly comments. You are allowing your emotions to cloud your thinking."
"Let's just get this done quickly," interrupted Tamura. He slapped his combadge. "Tamura to Endurance, seven to beam up."
There was a moment's hesitation. "Ah, say again Commander - did you say 'seven' to beam up?"
Tamura sighed. "You heard me Chief. And make it snappy." He closed the channel.
How many away missions can we frak-up in five years? he wondered as the transporter effect engulfed them.
* * *
Here's hoping for more soon.
