IMBALANCE Page 7

  “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 mass, are controlled by how much the larvae are fed, but certain aptitudes 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 space, 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 muffled 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 assigned her a partner as though she were a tenderfoot on her first assignment. 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 assignment 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 Bel-Minor.

  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 passengers see out the windows. She and Tanaka were traveling through a residential area that contained the most boring assemblage 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 assignment 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 passengers 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 assignment 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 assignment 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 Japan’s past, Japanese 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 assigned 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 assorted 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 sa
me 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 clusters 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 grasses 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 god, its lower edge speared by the misshapen tops of the trees. While she slept, the gas giant had risen, carried above the horizon by Bel-Minor’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 grass 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 grass, 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 classes 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 class 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 Assembly 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?”