From ix.netcom.com!www.nntp.primenet.com!nntp.primenet.com!mr.net!supernews.com!Supernews!ppp001.accessnv.com!user Wed Jun 11 18:34:42 1997 Path: ix.netcom.com!www.nntp.primenet.com!nntp.primenet.com!mr.net!supernews.com!Supernews!ppp001.accessnv.com!user From: paleoman@accessnv.com (William M. Carey) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: Data's Mistake 1/3 Date: Sat, 07 Jun 1997 12:38:15 -0700 Organization: none Lines: 469 Message-ID: NNTP-Posting-Host: ppp001.accessnv.com Data's Mistake Title: Data's Mistake Author: William M. Carey (paleoman@accessnv.com) Series: TNG Last posted: Never Expected completion: Done Disclaimer: All characters in this story are the property of Parmount, but the plot line is original. Summary: The Enterprise is assisting in an anthropological expedition. Data's Mistake by W M Carey Author's Forward: Like Lewis Carroll's "The Hunting of the Snark", this story was written backwards. I have always had a weakness for curtain lines. I still sniffle at closing line of "City Lights" ("Yes. Now I can see"), and get shivers at the last line of King Kong {"It ws beauty killed the beast"). So, when the last line of the epilogue popped into my mind one day at work, I had to find a story to hang it on. I immediately sat down at a terminal and in twenty minutes had the epilogue in pretty much its current form. The rest of the story was written to furnish a lead-in. Chapter One "Counsellor Troi, since you're the only one present with advanced training in a social science, I'd like you to brief us on background of Professor R. P. Brackwaite." The captain's words were spoken from a seated position at the head of the conference table. The rest of the bridge staff was seated around the table, leaving one empty chair. "To the best of my knowledge, no one at this table has ever met Professor Brackwaite. Is that correct?", asked Deanna. She received a chorus of nods in reply. "Nor have I", she continued, but her face came as close to wearing a scowl as it ever did. "When I heard he was coming, I sought out his publications, to get a feel for the type of individual we'd be dealing with. And I was surprised that he had so few papers to his credit." "But Counsellor", interrupted Data. "Is he not the head of the anthropology department at a prestigious Terran university? How can that be unless he proved himself a superlative scholar?" "Data", smiled the counsellor, "The politics of Academia would make a best-selling fantasy novel. He got to his present position through influence. "However, the few papers he has authored are not without merit. They make no contribution to the science of anthropology, since they consist of purely negative criticism of other scholars' theories, but they are well written and tightly reasoned." "Can you tell us anything else about the man", asked Captain Picard. "We have orders to give him carte blanche on Proserpine 2." "Not just yet, Captain. I have some theories, but I would rather they have some confirming evidence before I voice them. And we're in no hurry. After we meet him and I get a chance to empathize I may have more." "Very well". The captain turned to Data. "Since we're just passing time waiting for Professor Brackwaite to join us, Mr. Data, why don't you bring us up to date on the special aspects of Proserpine 2 that have brought the Federation's most powerful ship to the support of one lone anthropologist." "Yes Sir. Proserpine 2 is a class M planet, remarkably similar to Terra in many ways. In particular, with some imagination, one could say that it resembled the Earth geographically. It possesses four very large land masses corresponding approximately to North and South America, Eurasia and Africa. And two continent size islands are situated about where Greenland and Australia would be. So long as it causes no confusion, the geographers refer to locations on Proserpine 2 by their Terran analogs. "What makes the planet so fascinating to anthropologists is the fact that, scattered over the planet, are twelve different -- well neither races nor species is exact in this context, but I shall use the term 'races' until a better term is suggested. At any rate these races seem to span an evolutionary continuum. They appear to represent samples in the evolution of the local population from a two foot high, thirty pound anthropoid ape to a humanoid type almost indistinguishable from Terran humanity." As he spoke, Data drew a small control box from his pocket and punched a couple of buttons. Immediately, hovering over the table, appeared a holographic projection of Proserpine 2. A set of blinking lights indicated the location of the various races that Data was discussing. "That's why the planet holds such fascination for Professor Brackwaite", interrupted Deanna. "He probably realizes his academic shortcomings and wants to be the first to document this development and thus assure himself a place in anthropological history." "You said that the earliest representative of this evolutionary pattern is a small ape-like creature", said the captain. "What is the latest representative like?" "We don't know. The planet contains many deserted cities, but the survey teams have so far encountered no representative of Homo Proserpine Urbis." "Well then, could you describe the most highly evolved race that they have encountered?" "Yes Sir. That would be the Moreni, a race roughly at the Cro-Magnon level of development. They are organized into tribes, they have a religion, they paint the walls of their caves with hunting scenes, and they frequently meet with other tribes to find mates for unattached individuals. Mating within one's own tribe is taboo." "And where are they located?" "In southern Greenland, which is a far more temperate locale that its namesake on Earth." Data pointed his control box at the sphere and pushed another button. Immediately the scene expanded, showing a people clad in garments made of sewn skin going about their normal daily activities. "They are a peaceful people. If disputes between tribes arise, then a third tribe is called in to mediate. Some times the quarrel is settled by single combat, but never by any full scale war. "They also have a rudimentary agriculture, growing grain and legumes. But they tend to exhaust the ground, so they move frequently." "I take it that they have all of 'Greenland' to themselves", interjected Riker. "No Sir. To the north of the island, separated from the Moreni by a range of mountains, live the Lokarch people. They can best be described as Neanderthaloid, although the parallel is not exact, since on Earth, the Neanderthals did not precede Cro-Magnon man, but overlapped considerably. In the case of Proserpine 2, the Lokarch are definitely older than the Moreni. "They are also a peaceful people, although their customs, taboos and life style bear no resemblance to those of the Moreni. They are strictly hunters. The only vegetable nutrients they get are from wild plants." Again Data utilized his control box to call up a view of the Lokarch people. They appeared to be shorter and heavier than the Moreni, and had much smaller foreheads, together with heavy brow ridges. They were clad in skins that showed no signs of tailoring. However any of them, in modern dress, could have walked down the main street of a Terran city without attracting undue attention. "And", added Troi, "It is these two races that have attracted the attention of Professor Brackwaite. When he was pulling wires to get to study this planet, his every communication mentioned them." "Captain", said a female voice from the Comm Panel, "The shuttle bearing Professor Brackwaite's party has just entered the shuttle bay." "Good. Ask the professor if he'd mind stepping up to my ready room before he goes to his quarters. My bridge crew would like to meet him." He turned to Riker. "What party? I thought Brackwaite was coming alone." "I have no idea", responded Riker. "I suppose we'll have to ask him." Chapter Two Professor Brackwaite proved to be a large, stout, genial-appearing man wearing a long academic cloak over a brown casual suit. He was accompanied by a cold-eyed, taciturn individual whose name was not immediately forthcoming. "How do you do everyone!", the professor piped as he took the only chair available. Belying his size, he had a high tenor voice which possessed little in the way of musical quality. His companion backed up to the wall, crossed his arms and stood staring around as though he expected one of the others to challenge him at any moment. "No need for introductions just now. I know most of you by reputation anyway. You have no idea how famous the Enterprise has become!" "We may not require introductions, Professor, but we would like to know how we can assist you in your information gathering venture", replied Picard. "Assist? Oh, nononononono! I require only that you supply me with a base of operations, namely the Enterprise, and that you beam me up and down at my request. No offense, but I don't want my research contaminated by those not skilled in the art!" Picard shook his head. "I'm afraid that that's contrary to StarFleet regulations. Any away team has to have at least one experienced star fleet officer along. However, I can see your point about unskilled assistants. Let me offer you our ship's Counsellor, Deanna Troi. She has been on many away teams, she has appeared in strange cultures, disguised as one of their members, she is a practicing psychologist, and she is an empath. I believe you'll find her quite valuable." Brackwaite's eyes slewed around to take in Deanna, and no measure of acceptance was discernable in his expression. However, after a minute, he nodded briefly. "I can live with that", he said. "But she has to be under my command at all times." "Unless danger threatens, and she is to be the sole judge of that", amended Picard. Brackwaite chuckled. "Oh, there won't be any danger. I pride myself on having studied the ways of making friends with the lower forms of humanity. Not with beads and trinkets, I assure you, but by exercising my profound understanding of the way their minds work." "I beg your pardon, Professor", interjected Data. "But are you going down just to observe, or do you intend to make contact with these people?" "Make contact, of course. I'm not a Buddha, sitting under a tree and waiting for all knowledge to come to him! I must get involved!" "I do not see how that will be possible, at least not in the case of the Moreni. They are a slender people. You could not possibly pass for one of them. And to appear in any other form would be a violation of the Prime Directive." "Very perspicacious, Mr. Data", replied the Professor with a smile. Only his eyes weren't smiling. "Now you know one of the reasons I've brought my assistant, Doyle." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at his companion who still stood quietly against the wall. "Ah, I see", said Data. "However, with just the two of you, you can't possibly do a comprehensive survey of the cultures of the Moreni and Lokarch. What points do you intend to concentrate on?" "Primarily, on why they are not obeying the Brackwaite Scholium!" The professor's voice became shrill as he described the failure of the inhabitants of Greenland to adhere to his precepts. "According to my theories of aboriginal development, any superior race should instinctively wipe out any inferior race. And yet these two races, one superior, the other inferior, are living on the same continent and ignoring each other!" "Maybe the theory is incorrect", rumbled Worf, who had remained aloof from the conversation until now. The only reply he received was a baleful glare from the professor. "Maybe they don't know each other exists", offered Geordie, in an attempt to soothe some ruffled feathers. "Not correct, Geordie", offered Data. "The survey team reported that, although the mountain range separating the two cultures is difficult to traverse, it is not impassible. They do have infrequent contact. And each appears to regard the other as harmless freaks." "So obviously", squeaked Brackwaite, "Some malignant influence is at work here. The Moreni should have exterminated the Lokarch long ago. I intend to find out why they didn't!" He rose from his seat and exited the room with Doyle dogging his footsteps. For a long moment, silence reigned. "Counsellor, I don't believe we need you to tell us that Professor R. P. Brackwaite is capable of doctoring, even forging evidence that will validate his theories", said Captain Picard, softly. "Nevertheless, Captain", interjected Dr. Crusher, "He's not the only one who wants to do research on Proserpine 2. I want to go down and get some blood and tissue samples from each of those races, to determine just how closely related the are." Picard scowled. "I thought that the survey team had determined that they were descendants and ancestors of each other." "Not quite, Captain, if I may", interjected Data, and he presented his holo control box, suggestively. "Go ahead, Mr. Data", said the captain, still frowning. "The evolution of any life form can be viewed as the trunk of a tree", said Data, and as he spoke a limbless tree sprang into existence on the conference table. "The process begins with some relatively undifferentiated prototype", a small rat-like being appeared at the base of the tree, "And continues to -- well who knows where?" A small sun appeared at the top of the tree. "In between, numerous off-shoots develop." Branches appeared on the tree. "On Proserpine 2, at least a dozen of these off shoots appear to have survived. Now it is conceivable, although improbable, that the races in question are not at all closely related. On the other hand, it is likely that they are related in the sense that they all branched off the same trunk. Dr. Crusher wants to measure the closeness of that relationship." "So these races did not evolve one from the other?", asked Jean Luc. "Probably not. Each race no doubt bears some resemblance to the main stem, as it looked at the time they split off from the trunk, and the closeness of that resemblance can also be determined by Dr. Crusher's measurements." "Very well, Doctor, assemble your away team and beam down at your convenience." "I don't need an away team", responded Beverly with some heat. "I'm just going to tranquilize my subject, take the samples, and beam back." "StarFleet regulations do not permit an away team of one. If you won't select someone to go with you, I'll appoint Mr. Data to accompany you." "I would appreciate the opportunity, Doctor", said Data. "I am even more curious about human ancestry than most humans." "And Number One. Since the Brackwaite team has two individuals, I believe that both Counsellor Troi and you should accompany them. And have your tricorder running at all times. We may be called upon to verify or refute some evidence that the professor brings back." Chapter Three The jungle growth was thick, but not so thick that a path had to be hacked through it. With reasonable care, a person could push his way between the large green plants of various species that covered the ground between the trees. This forest was situated in the heart of the continent that the survey team had nick-named Africa, because of its slight resemblance to the continent of that name back on Earth. It was the home of the species representing the earliest of the dozen populations that seemed to reflect the development of hominid life on the planet Proserpine 2. With Data breaking trail, he and Beverly proceeded through the forest in a general northerly direction. According to the survey team, several extended families of the small monkey-like creature inhabited this general area. Both Data and Beverly were clad in camouflage gear that blended in well with the surroundings, and still afforded them full freedom of motion. "May we talk, Doctor?", asked Data, in a stage whisper. "Unless you think we're near one of the creatures", answered Beverly. "These animals inhabit the savannah, the grassy plain, do they not?", queried Data. "Yes, they've already developed bi-pedal posture even though they still have a tail. They probably use the tail as an aid in balancing." "Then why are we seeking one of them in the jungle?" "We beamed down just inside the forest. The edge of the savannah is less than a hundred feet to our right. If we were out in the open, we couldn't tranquilize one of the animals without the whole tribe knowing about it. But since they frequently come into the jungle in search of delicacies, we ought to be able to capture one in here without bringing a hundred others to its rescue." "Ah, yes. The briefing papers did mention that the entire group would come to the aid of an individual under attack. And they get quite ferocious when provoked. It certainly would be best for us to go after an individual who is out of contact with his tribe. But now we had best become silent. I hear some sounds ahead which might be one of these proto-anthropoids." Carefully, the two crept ahead, gently pushing aside any shrubbery, and then easing it back into place. What appeared to be a small clear spot was directly ahead of them, and the sounds seemed to be coming from that area. Once they were within a few feet of the boundary of the clearing, Beverly pushed ahead of Data, and gently parted the last strands that separated her from the open area. She peered into the glade for a moment, and then turned and gestured Data to come forward and observe for himself the object of her attentions. On the far side of the dell, snacking on berries was a monkey-like creature, about two feet tall, with a long tail, and covered all over with light brown fur. His head seemed disproportionately large for his body. The animal had its back to them and was totally unaware of their presence. Beverly tugged at Data's sleeve and dragged him back several feet into the forest. "I want to tranquilize him", she whispered, "But the drug takes several seconds to work. And we're so close to the edge of the forest that he might be able to attract the attention of his family in those few seconds. Could you sneak up on him and gag him while I give him the shot?" Data pondered a moment, and then nodded. He turned and retraced his steps to the clearing. Silently as mist stealing in from the ocean, he tiptoed across the glade toward the animal, until he was within reach. The monkey continued to munch contentedly on the berries from the bush in front of it. With a lightning grab, Data seized the animal and clapped his hand over its mouth. And found himself in a fight the likes of which he had never before experienced. The animal's reflexes and strength seemed almost the equal to his own, and in short order he found himself on the ground with thirty pounds of mindless fury in his grasp. Fortunately, he was able to keep his hand over the creature's mouth. Only by rolling over and pinning the animal beneath him was Data able to restrain it to a point where Dr. Crusher could inject the tranquilizer. And even then, for several more seconds, Data had to hang on for dear life, until the tranquilizer finally took effect. Gradually, the thrashings of the creature subsided, and at last it lay passive, just staring at Beverly and Data. And its stare contained no affection, and very little fear. In very short order, Beverly had obtained her blood specimen and tissue samples, and had sterilized the tiny wounds she had inflicted. Now she and Data backed off, and waited for the animal to recover. Beverly wanted to make sure that she had caused no permanent harm. The monkey's recovery was almost as rapid as its collapse had been. It lie supine and motionless for a long moment, and then began to twitch. But the twitching lasted only a few seconds, and then it got shakily to its feet. But instead of dashing off into the concealment of the forest, it stood glaring its rage at Data and Beverly, then it lifted its head and let out a long, piercing, ululating screech. "Had we not better beam out of here?", asked Data. "In a minute. I want to see if his family really responds", replied Doctor Crusher. She had not long to wait. Crashing through the underbrush came an entire herd of the monkey-like creatures, all of them ululating at the top of their lungs. When they caught sight of Beverly and Data, they came to a screeching halt, and proceeded to dance up and down, working themselves into a rage. Then they began to throw things. Any thing they could get their paws around was rained on Data and Beverly, including twigs, small stones, and other matter. One missile splattered on a tree next to Data and he leaned forward to examine it. He sniffed briefly and then snapped his head back. "I guess it's time to leave", offered Beverly. "They seem upset." "Considering what they are throwing at us, they are much more than upset", countered Data. He tapped his combadge. "Enterprise, two to beam up." As they materialized on the transporter platform, Beverly noticed O'Brien, the transport chief, sniffing the air with a look of disgust on his face. He opened his mouth to speak. "O'Brien, if you say one work, I'll have your liver for breakfast!", snapped Beverly. "Data, get cleaned up and then we go back for bigger game." O'Brien shrugged, shut his mouth and reached for the ventilator switch. From ix.netcom.com!news.webspan.net!newsfeeds.sol.net!europa.clark.net!chippy.visi.com!news-out.visi.com!supernews.com!Supernews!ppp001.accessnv.com!user Wed Jun 11 18:34:45 1997 Path: ix.netcom.com!news.webspan.net!newsfeeds.sol.net!europa.clark.net!chippy.visi.com!news-out.visi.com!supernews.com!Supernews!ppp001.accessnv.com!user From: paleoman@accessnv.com (William M. Carey) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: Data's Mistake 2/3 Date: Sat, 07 Jun 1997 12:39:23 -0700 Organization: none Lines: 492 Message-ID: NNTP-Posting-Host: ppp001.accessnv.com Chapter Four Riker and Troi, both tastefully draped in skins, rendezvoused at the transporter some hours later. Riker's beard had been augmented and Troi's hair hung loose, with no sign of a wave or artificial fastening. "Where are Brackwaite and Doyle?", asked Riker in a puzzled tone. "I understood that we were to meet them here." "They just called in, Commander", offered O'Brien. "They said that they'd be delayed about an hour, and that you and the counsellor should go ahead and prepare the ground for them." Troi and Riker exchanged glances. "This from a man who, a half hour ago, wanted to beam down alone?", demanded Will. "I sense some effort at deception, Bill", said Troi. "But they can't do any harm here on the ship. Let's go down and try to insulate the Lokarch against them." She stepped onto the transporter on which a haunch of venison already rested. Hesitantly, Riker followed, but now his mind was no longer on Brackwaite and Company. "As Data said yesterday, the Lokarch are a large, hulking people. How am I going to explain a runt like you?", he asked. Deanna cocked an eyebrow at him. "Easily", she said. "I'm your daughter." "You're my what?", demanded Will, just as the transporter activated. ** The mountainside where they had materialized was barren of life, but the valley below was lush and green. Riker and Troi were carefully making their way down toward the valley, following no trail but struggling through the loose gravel and around the heavy boulders that covered the hill. Will was additionally burdened by the haunch of venison he carried over his shoulder. "Maybe we should have materialized closer", offered Troi. "Not on your life. The captain makes a religion of the Prime Directive, and he would have vetoed any attempt to beam in closer. We can't allow these people to entertain the slightest suspicion that we're not of this world. If any one of them saw us materialize, they'd develop superstitions that would alter their development in ways we can't even predict." "I suppose you're right", agreed Troi. "But it does make it difficult on us." They proceeded on downward with no further conversation until they reached the base of the mountain. Then Troi halted. "Will", she whispered. "They're all around us." Even as she spoke, large, skin clad men with weather-beaten complexions seemed to materialize from between the rocks that surrounded them. Each of them carried a six foot spear, but in every case the spear was pointing at the sky, not at the intruders. Riker and Troi had been indoctrinated with the language of the Lokarch, so communication was not a problem. Riker stepped forward and lay the haunch of venison on the ground. "We come in peace, from the far West", he announced, "And present this meat as a peace offering." The bearded men continued to stare at him for a long moment. "You resemble no Lokarch I ever met", said one of the elders, finally. "And who is the little one with you?" "I am called Riker, my daughter's name is Troi. None of my people have ever been this far East before. And you appear as different to me as I do to you." Riker was exerting every effort to hold his mind open in case Troi found need to flash him a telepathic message, but no message was forthcoming. That meant that she sensed no immediate danger. Or that he had lost his ability to communicate with her that way. "Why do you come so far from your home?", demanded the elder. "Are you running low on game?" "Quite the contrary. The game grows more plentiful every year, as do the fruits and vegetables we eat with them. No, we came this way because my daughter has had a dream. That dream says that I would find my dead mate if I came east." The elder frowned. "We do not wish to associate with dead people", he grunted. "Have no fear of that. We must go much further east before the prophesy is realized. We are merely asking permission to traverse your lands." "Lorch! We have no reason to trust these people. They may wish us harm!" This from the biggest and most powerfully built of the Lokarch. "If we turn them away, we must give them back their meat, Mrach", responded Lorch. The elder peered down at the haunch venison, and his stomach rumbled suggestively. Then turned back to Riker. "Traversing our lands should present no problem, so long as you do nothing to frighten the game. We invite you to spend the night in one of our empty caves. But no dead people!" "Thank you. My brother is not far behind us. He had to stop to attend to some personal business. Does your invitation extend to him?" "Does he carry a spear?" "No. Like me, he is unarmed." The elder nodded. He plainly considered Riker crazy, but not in any way that could be dangerous. "He may stay one night also", agreed Lorch. He bent and with one hand picked up the venison, threw it over his shoulder, and lead the way to the cave city a quarter of a mile away. "Everything O.K.?", asked Riker as he and Troi were escorted by half the Lokarch that had intercepted them. "They are only moderately suspicious, and not to the point of violence. I'm surprised at their level of intelligence. They're not the dumb brutes of literature." "Look at the size of their skulls! Their brain is probably larger than ours." "As was the case with the Neanderthal man, back on Earth. We don't understand why he didn't progress further." "Maybe, as you're so fond of saying, 'Once the brain gets past a certain size, culture is far more important than heredity.'" "I could present these people as living proof of that thesis", responded Troi. They had reached the caves and now Lorch gestured for them to enter one that appeared no different than any of the others. Riker and Troi entered, to find some skins, not too fresh, scattered about on the floor of the cave. Riker was busy examining the walls of the cave, trying to determine whether or not it was man made, when Troi called, from deeper in the cave, "Look at this!". The commander strolled toward the rear of the cave, expecting the cave to become darker as he proceeded deeper into it. For a dozen paces, this proved to be the case, but then the darkening ceased, and settled into a deep twilight. Troi was standing over something on the ground, holding in her hand a primitive oil lamp whose feeble glow prevented total darkness from descending. "Either these people are more artistic than we give them credit for, or someone else lived here at one time", reported Troi, indicating the statue at her feet. Riker squatted down to examine the work more closely. It proved to be a sculpture of a crouching mountain lion, ready to pounce on her prey. Every feature was rendered in exquisite detail, as though the artist had worked from a model. The musculature was either clearly visible, as in the hindquarters, or was hinted at, as in the forequarters. Even the eyes had been sculpted complete with iris and pupils. Riker arose and whistled softly. "I've never seen anything that realistic even on Earth", he declared. "Do you suppose it was done by the Lokarch?" "We'll have to ask them. I've always known that classifying people was difficult, but I never expected it to be this hard!" They stood examining the masterpiece for several moments, and then suddenly Troi stiffened. "Bill! I sense treachery!", she whispered. Riker whirled and sprinted for the cave opening. But before he got half way there, "M'Zahdi!, No!". Troi had made no sound, but the message exploded in his brain, bringing him to a screeching halt. And just in time. An avalanche of boulders began to cascade down outside the cave mouth, forming a rapidly growing pile, which spilled into the cave, and completely closed it off from the outside world. Riker stood staring at the rock pile and then discovered Deanna hugging his arm. "You were almost under those rocks", she whispered. Chapter Five The rustling of the breeze through the leaves of the tropical forest made more noise than did Data and Dr. Crusher, slipping through the undergrowth in a search for another of the specimens of human ancestry that inhabited this world. They were once again on the continent dubbed "Africa" by the survey team, but 1500 miles southwest of their first adventure. "I caution you again, Doctor", said Data, "The survey team warns that these are the most dangerous of all the races of homonids on this planet." "Did it actually attack any of them?", asked Beverly. "No. They observed it only from a distance. But it has a fearsome jaw structure. It could probably bite your arm off. And all other animals flee from it as soon as it comes near." From his tone, the doctor deduced that Data was about to enter into one of his interminable elaborations, but she did nothing to cut him short. "They resemble, or rather they would resemble, Piltdown man, except that he never existed. The skull and jaw attributed to him were in reality complete separate fossils that had been doctored to appear as though they came from the same animal. Actually..." "Data, what about his jaw?" "It is huge in proportion to his size. It probably evolved to such prodigious size to crack the bones of its prey. However, the survey team dubbed the race, 'Nutcrackers'." "Then we'd better be sure the tranquilizer is strong enough to stop it in a hurry", said Beverly. She stopped to make some adjustments to her medical equipment. When she straightened up, she was about to proceed forward, but she stopped and sniffed. "Good Lord, not again!", she whispered to Data. Data repeated her sniffing action. "It is a very strong smell, but I don't believe humans would find it particularly offensive", he reported. "Anything that strong is offensive. But if it were toned down, it wouldn't be so bad. It's kind of like brown sugar." "Freeze!", whispered Data, and Beverly complied without question. Just a few meters in front of them, the foliage suddenly parted, to reveal a brown fur-covered creature, just a trifle shorter than Beverly. And it possessed a jaw that was gigantic with respect to the rest of its head. For a moment, it appeared as though the creature wouldn't notice Beverly and Data. It proceeded on a course that would have taken it well away from their position. But then it stopped to sniff the air. And its head swivelled around until it was staring directly at them. With a frown of puzzlement on its face, the creature walked toward them, first on all fours, but as it neared them it came to an erect posture. It showed no fear of any kind, and the grimace it was making could have been interpreted as either a snarl or a smile. "I have my phaser trained on him, Doctor. If he attacks, I'll have to kill him." "He hasn't attacked yet! Wait until you're sure he means us harm!", ordered Beverly. The creature came to within arms length, and then stopped. It reached out to finger Doctor Crusher's jacket and caressed the cloth, clearly puzzled. In response, Beverly extended her own hand, and gently stroked the beast's soft fur. The animal offered no objection to being petted, and continued to finger the arm of Beverly's jacket. Then the glint from her combadge caught its eye. He extended his arm and tried to pluck it off her breast. "Stop that!", snapped Beverly, and slapped his hand away. Data was prepared for several different reactions, but not for the one that occurred. The creature sat down abruptly and let its head hang forward. Its shoulders began to shake. "Data, what is he doing?", demanded Beverly. "I believe", said Data hesitantly, "That it is crying." This was too much for Beverly's maternal instincts. She knelt down and patted the Nutcracker on the head. And when it raised a tear-stained face to her, she wrapped her hands around its neck and pulled its head down on her breast. The creature responded by encircling her with its arm and hugging her gently. For more than a minute, Dr. Crusher allowed the Nutcracker to embrace her, and returned his embrace in turn. Then she tried to gently disengage herself, only to have it hug her even tighter. Beverly snapped her fingers to get Data's attention, and held out her hand. Date, perceiving her intention, handed her the high pressure injection gun. Using just enough force to get through the creature's fur, the doctor pressed the gun against his side and activated the injector. It is doubtful that the Nutcracker even knew he had been tranquilized. He toppled over quietly and lay very still. Beverly examined him thoroughly before taking any tissue samples. "He's really deep, but I don't detect any dangerous symptoms", she told Data. "But we'll stay here until he comes out of it just to be sure." For half an hour, the pair stood watch over the sleeping Nutcracker, until a trembling in his limbs announced that the medication was wearing off. But instead of decreasing the trembling increased, and in a moment the creature was in the throes of a full fledged convulsion. "Oh my Lord. He's reacting to the drug", exclaimed Beverly, as she thrust all her paraphernalia into Data's hands. She threw herself onto the creature, and slapped her combadge. "Enterprise! Two to beam up, direct to sick bay." Data watched without comment as the pair disappeared in the beam of the transporter. Then he peered around, and determined that he was indeed alone. He shrugged and tapped his own badge. "Enterprise, one to beam up", he requested. Chapter Six Lorch, Mrach, and the rest of the Lokarch were straining mightily, trying to uncover the cave opening that had been buried by the landslide. "This is a waste of time", panted Mrach, throwing another boulder away from him. "We won't be able to move the large rocks, even if we clear away all the small ones." "We must try!", was Lorch's only reply, as he lifted another rock and heaved it away. "Wait! Look! Another of these strange beings is coming down the mountain!" "It must be the brother of Riker. He said that he was not far behind." "Look at him!", sneered Mrach. "Do they actually believe that they can pass for Lokarch? They must think us incredibly stupid!" As they spoke, R. P. Brackwaite came slipping and sliding down the hill. With his fish-belly white skin and his flabby musculature, he made a very poor picture of a Lokarch, even though he was dressed in unsewn skins. "Stop!", he commanded. "Why are you trying to dig out your enemies, after I went to the trouble of starting that landslide?" Lorch, Mrach and the others stopped their labors, and slowly clustered around R.P. "You buried your own brother? Why?", demanded Lorch, as ever, the spokesman. "He is a betrayer of the Lokarch!", puffed R. P. "His wife was a Moreni and he is completely under their domination. He is here to discover your numbers and fighting capabilities so that the Moreni can wipe you out and take over your lands. They have hunted their own lands barren." Lorch pondered before replying. "So his wife was a Moreni. That explains why their daughter is so ugly." "Ahhh, precisely! And that is proof of what I am telling you. You must prepare for war! The Moreni will be invading soon, and intend to kill you, your wives and your children. You must resist them for the sake of the Lokarch everywhere!" "You will stay and fight with us?", asked Mrach. "Ahhh, no. I must go and warn the other Lokarch. The entire race is threatened and must be prepared to do battle." "Can you at least spend the night with us?" "Sorry. Time is too important. I must leave. Just don't uncover that cave! ** A day later and fifteen miles eastward, R. P. Brackwaite was repeating his warning to another group of the Lokarch. "You must go and join your brothers in the battle against the Moreni. They will be flooding into this area shortly and unless you are all together, they will be able to hunt down your groups and kill you off one at a time." ** Doyle, clad in Moreni garb, stood over the body of the Moreni woman, who had obviously been raped. All around him were clustered other Moreni, most of them openly furious. "As you can see", said Doyle in his raspy baritone, "The Lokarch are slavering for our women. The only way we can protect them is to go over the mountains and wipe them out!' ** Beverly and Data, with Ruug clinging to Beverly's hand, approached the Captain's ready room with some trepidation. His attitude on certain points of Star Fleet regulations was well known and his temper could be most formidable. "Come in", he called, in response to Beverly's knock. They entered to find Jean Luc in a rather genial mood. He glanced briefly at Ruug, and then asked. "So how is your fossil hunting going?" "We have a complete set of specimens, Captain. The analysis is under way, but we won't have final results for several more days." "And what are the preliminary results?" "So far, it appears that the dozen different races are closely related, genetically. Closely enough for them to have branched off the same main stem at any rate." "Except for Ruug", interjected Data. The captain frowned. "Who is Ruug?", but that worthy's reaction immediately enlightened him. Ruug stepped forward and held out a hand to the Captain. "Ah, you've trained him to shake hands. Well, he's been aboard for fifteen days now. I suspect you've taught him a great deal in that time", chuckled Jean Luc. He took the proferred hand briefly. "And just where does he fit in the evolutionary scheme that you're developing?" "He appears to be a branch off of a branch, or even a branch off a branch off a branch", responded Data. "At any rate, he is not directly connected to the trunk." "And that fearsome jaw that we were all so afraid of?" "It evolved, not to crush bone, but to crack nuts and hard seeds", answered Beverly. "Let me demonstrate." She took a peach out of her pocket and offered it to Ruug. He accepted it, and held out his hand for something else. Beverly took a synthetic napkin from her other pocket and gave it to him. Ruug scampered over to the conference table and carefully spread the napkin on the table. He then ran a thumb nail completely around the peach, splitting the skin, and then divided the fruit into two halves. He carefully plucked the pit from one half and laid it aside, and then proceeded to daintily eat the rest of the peach. "Where did you get the name 'Ruug' for it?", queried the captain, while the subject of his question continued with the peach. "Does it represent some sound it can make?" "No, Sir, he's completely mute. 'Ruug' is just a nonsense syllable that popped into my mind when I decided he needed a name." "And it is - ah - thoroughly trained?" "He's house broken, yes sir", smiled Beverly. "And I've toned down his body odor, which in the wild is quite powerful. Apparently, it's a defense mechanism of some kind." "Then why the yellow shorts?", queried the captain. "Modesty", replied Beverly. "He has a lot to be modest about." "Ah, I see. And it shows no after effects of the tranquilizer?" "Not now. But it was touch and go when I first beamed him aboard. I had no idea that he'd react so strongly to the injection. His system must have evolved away from the main line by quite a distance. " "Pardon, Captain", interjected Data, "But we're now coming to the interesting part." With a considerable show of satisfaction, Ruug popped the last morsel of the peach into his mouth, chewed it thoughtfully, and swallowed. Then for dessert, he picked up the pit and flipped it into his gaping maw. While he daintily wiped his fingers on the paper napkin, and to the accompaniment of a loud grinding noise, he chewed and swallowed the peach pit. "Good Heavens", exclaimed the captain. "I thought peach pits contained cyanide." "They do!", replied Beverly. "Which is another reason to believe that Ruug's family has evolved well away from the more humanoid line. He already represents a separate species, and is probably well on the way to becoming a separate genus!" The captain nodded, knowingly. "At any rate", he said, "Don't become too attached to your new pet. He has to be returned to his original home before we leave here." Before Beverly could reply, the communicator sounded. "Captain, Professor Brackwaite has requested to be beamed up." "Oh, finally! Don't beam him up until I get there. I'm on my way." From ix.netcom.com!news.webspan.net!newsfeeds.sol.net!europa.clark.net!newsfeed.direct.ca!news.he.net!supernews.com!Supernews!ppp001.accessnv.com!user Wed Jun 11 18:34:49 1997 Path: ix.netcom.com!news.webspan.net!newsfeeds.sol.net!europa.clark.net!newsfeed.direct.ca!news.he.net!supernews.com!Supernews!ppp001.accessnv.com!user From: paleoman@accessnv.com (William M. Carey) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: Data's Mistake 3/3 Date: Sat, 07 Jun 1997 12:40:39 -0700 Organization: none Lines: 600 Message-ID: NNTP-Posting-Host: ppp001.accessnv.com Chapter Seven The familiar whine of the transporter beam ceased, and Professor R. P. Brackwaite stood on the transporter platform. He was considerably tanner, leaner, and more haggard than when the captain had last seen him. "Well, Professor", said the captain as R. P. stepped off the platform, "You stayed down on Proserpine II for much longer than we had expected. If you hadn't communicated with us every night, we would have come down looking for you." "Good thing you didn't!", snapped the professor, whose temper evidently had not been improved any by his stay on the planet. "You would have ruined a delicate experiment." "Experiment? Oh, come now professor. You're here only to observe. You must not interfere with those people and you know it!" "My apologies for a poor choice of words. Of course, what I meant to say was that, any search party you sent down might have been detected and that would have been a violation of the prime directive." "Ah. I see. When can we expect Commander Riker and Counsellor Troi to beam up?" "Oh, Captain, I'm afraid those two have suffered a terrible tragedy! I just learned of it, and that's why I beamed up." "Good Heavens, what kind of tragedy?", demanded Jean Luc. "As you know, they went down ahead of me, for reasons that I never did discover. When I beamed down I could find no trace of them, and the Lokarch I encountered swore that they had never seen them. "I proceeded as planned, playing the part of a wandering mendicant, and gathering all the information I could about the Lokarch. And just today, one of them told me that Commander Riker and Counsellor Troi had been killed in a landslide, shortly after they landed. I immediately requested that I be beamed up, so that I could inform you of the tragedy." "Very thoughtful of you. Where is your associate, Mister Doyle?" "Still among the Moreni, I have no doubt. However, he should return soon. We agreed to meet back here on the Enterprise about now." "I see. This new development will bear some discussion. My staff is waiting for us in my ready room. Let's continue our conversation among them." "May I have a few moments to clean up? I haven't really bathed since I left the Enterprise." Jean Luc took the professor by the arm and steered him toward the nearest turbo-lift. "I'm afraid that we don't have that kind of time. We must decide immediately what to do about the situation on the planet Proserpine II." The journey was short and devoid of comment. Brackwaite was visibly trying to hold back a raging fury, while the captain remained mute. The turbo-lift let them off just a few steps from the captain's ready room, and Jean Luc preceded the Professor to the door. He opened the door and waved Brackwaite to precede him. Brackwaite took two steps and came to a screeching halt, his mouth hanging open. Seated around the table in the ready room was the full staff of the Enterprise, including Deanna Troi and Will Riker. Propelled by a push in the back from the captain, Brackwaite was catapulted into the room. The captain elbowed his way past him and assumed the seat at the head of the table. This time, no empty chair was available for the professor. "Let us save time", barked the captain from his position at the head of the table. "We know that you engineered the landslide that you thought would trap Counsellor Troi and Commander Riker in that cave. Her empathic senses detected what you were doing at the moment you did it. Fortunately, that mountain is pure stone, with no metallic content, so it offered no interference to their communicators or our transport beam." Brackwaite had appeared to be on the defensive, but the frontal assault stiffened his resolve and imparted a certain bravado to his bearing. "Empathic testimony is not admissable in any court on Terra!", he snapped. The captain leaned back in his chair and tented his fingers in front of his chest. "We have no intention of taking this to a Terran court. We have decided upon another way to punish you." "You can't imprison me! A million people on Earth know where I am! And you can't kill me! It is a well known fact that your android is incapable of lying, and any investigator would question him first!" "Sir", interposed Data, "I am not Captain Picard's android, nor am I anyone else's android. I am my own android. However, you are quite correct. I am incapable of lying." "So", sneered Brackwaite. "It appears that there is very little you can do about my alleged transgression." "What we can do has already been done", answered the captain with a frosty smile. "Counsellor Troi and Doctor Crusher have collaborated on a paper describing in great detail the humanoid life on Proserpine II. Commanders Data and Riker, and I, have endorsed the findings of that paper. It has already been transmitted to, and accepted by, the Terran Anthropological Journal. I regret to say that your name appears nowhere in the text." Brackwaite froze in his pose for a long moment, an expression of stunned surprise on his face. "Where's a radio?", he demanded. "I demand to speak to the editors of that journal." "All radios and other communications media are closed to you until we get back to Terra. And that will be in about two months. In the meantime, you will enjoy the hospitality of our brig. Security, take him away!" Two burly security men, under the watchful eye of Lieutenant Worf, came forward, seized the professor by the arms, and started to hustle him from the room. But they were interrupted by the intercom. "Captain, Doyle has just requested that we beam him aboard." Picard gestured for the security men to hold. "Beam him up and send him directly to my ready room", he told the comm panel. "Put him over there, against the wall", Jean Luc directed the security guards who still held Brackwaite. "And you, Professor Brackwaite, unless you want to be beamed back down to the planet, among the primitive apes of Africa, will hold your peace." In short order, Doyle appeared in the ready room, still clad in the sewn skins of the Moreni. He appeared to have no suspicions that he would be treated as anything but a conquering hero. "Well, Mr. Doyle", began the captain from his seat at the head of the conference table, "What have you to report after fifteen days among the Moreni?" "Only that they are a bloodthirsty and savage race, determined to exterminate the Lokarch", said Doyle, his eyes drifting around the table. "The survey team was completely wrong about them. They demand blood and intend to get it!" "Could it be", asked Data, "That we have a case of the uncertainty principle operating here? Is it not possible that the observer has perturbed the subject so much that the results are meaningless?" "What's that supposed to mean?", demanded Doyle, his truculent demeanor returning in full force. He backed himself against a wall as though he expected to be attacked. "It means", said the captain, "That we are well aware of how you spent your time on the surface and that you will be sharing a cell in our brig with Professor Brackwaite, until we get you back to Star Fleet jurisdiction." A phasor suddenly appeared on Doyle's hand. "Oh, no!", he grinned, although the grin appeared more like a snarl. "I have the entire staff of the Enterprise right in this room. You're taking me where I want to go. Captain, order the bridge to head for the Coal Sack. The star is Womper's variable." Jean Luc's eyes narrowed. "You're planning on selling us into slavery to the Dolinas?", he demanded. "Just give the order, or I start killing off your staff. Doctor Crusher will be the first to go." Picard shrugged and turned to the comm panel. "Con, set a course for Womper's variable. Warp nine." "But Captain­", protested the comm link. "Obey orders!"", barked the captain. He turned back to Doyle. "Very well, Mr. Doyle. We are now on a collision course with Womper's variable. The Enterprise should plunge into that sun in about three hours. Unless you put down that phasor and surrender, the entire ship, the ship's company, and you, will very shortly be reduced to their constituent atoms." "Rescind that order, or the doctor dies. Now!", snarled Doyle. "I'm quite sure that she'd rather die than be enslaved", responded the captain, totally unperturbed. Doyle swung his phasor toward Beverly, and that proved to be his first mistake. A small brown bundle that had lain quietly in the corner during the palaver, suddenly launched itself at Doyle's back. The entire ready room heard the bones crack as Ruug's jaws closed on Doyle's ankle. He let out a loud and piercing scream, and his phasor went off, its ray pursuing a random course in the room. Almost faster than thought, Data was upon him, and wrested the phasor from Doyle's hand. And Beverly was coaxing Ruug to release the ankle. Doyle himself lay on the deck, screaming a whole series of obscene blasphemies. "Is anyone hit?", demanded the captain. Everyone signalled that he was unhurt. Everyone but Brackwaite. He had turned his face to the wall when the phasor went off, and now he stood motionless. And then he began to slide down. Riker managed to catch him before he hit the deck, but he had seen enough to know that he held a dead man in his arms. "He's got a phasor burn, right at the base of the neck", announced the commander. "It must have destroyed his entire nervous system." "Get the body out of here, and doctor, get your patient to sick bay. Security, see that he's under full guard round the clock. And move him to the brig the minute Dr. Crusher releases him." "Now", continued the captain, as Doyle's bellowing subsided in the distance, "We have to consider what to do about this war he has engineered down on the planet. Commander Data, --" He was interrupted by Deanna. "Sir, shouldn't we change course, away from Womper's Variable?" "Ah, yes. Make it so, Number One. Head back to Proserpine II. Commander Data, report the status on Proserpine II, please." "Yes, Sir. Professor Brackwaite has succeeded in getting a large number of the Lokarch tribes to believe that the Moreni are invading Lokarch territory to hunt game. The Lokarch have banded together near the original contact point, and naturally, with so many in one place, game has become scarce. But the Lokarch attribute the scarcity to Moreni incursions. If the Moreni do indeed invade Lokarch territory, a bloody battle will doubtless occur. "Doyle, working the Moreni side of the mountains, has spread the word that the Lokarch are lusting after Moreni women. He produced the body of one Moreni woman who had obviously been raped to support his claim. Although we have no witnesses, it appears that he committed that crime himself. "The Moreni are gathering in force to attack the Lokarch, in order to protect their women. That attack will probably begin in about three days." "Captain, is there no way we could have prevented this?", demanded Troi. "Only if we had realized from the beginning just how desperate the Professor was to prove his theories. I pictured him fabricating some kind of evidence, but it never occurred to me or to any other of the staff that he'd actually try to start a war of extermination." "Even after his assault on Commander Riker and me?" The captain nodded. "That should have warned us that he was desperate. But desperate enough to start a war? No, none of us considered that possibility. But now the war is about to begin and we have to stop it! I want ideas, now!" "At the risk of stating the obvious, I wish to make two points", offered Data. "First, I can conceive of no way to stop the war that doesn't involve some members of the Enterprise visiting the warring parties, in disguise of course. And second, Commander Riker and Counsellor Troi have been discredited, at least on the Lokarch side, and should not go down again." "I agree", rumbled Worf. "I would suggest that a Lokarch visit the Moreni, and a Moreni visit the Lokarch, as peacemakers. And I would also suggest that Commander Data is the only one among us who looks sufficiently like a Moreni to play that role." "And who do we have that looks like a Lokarch?", asked the captain. All eyes swivelled to Worf. He glared back for a moment, and then shrugged. "Very well. I will undertake the peace mission to the Moreni, and Commander Data will do the same for the Lokarch. Now what exactly is our strategy to be?" Chapter Eight In broad daylight, with both his hands held above his head, Worf approached the Moreni encampment. He had both a communicator and a phasor concealed under the skins he wore, but he had no intention of using either except in the direst emergency. And as he had expected, he was surrounded by Moreni armed with bows before he got within a hundred yards of the camp. "I come in peace", he rumbled. "I wish to converse with your head men." "No!", exclaimed one of his captors. "He's probably the one who raped and murdered Kara! We should kill him right here!" He raised his bow, but it was immediately batted aside by an older man. "It will cost us nothing to listen to him. Do you believe that a Lokarch can lie to a Moreni without being detected? Take him to the camp!" So, surrounded by Moreni, Worf was led to the assembly area. From that point, messengers were dispatched to summon the leaders of the various tribes that had gathered to attack the Lokarch. While waiting, Worf stood at attention, but, like the good security officer he was, he let his eyes roam around the camp. An equal number of men and women, he noted. So apparently, when the Moreni go to war, they bring their females. "The Moreni are a slender people", Data had said, and his observations appeared to bear that out, with one startling exception. A short, roly-poly woman with rosy cheeks and a perpetual smile had been eyeing him continuously since his arrival. And since she kept up a steady stream of chatter with her neighbors while doing so, he soon discovered that her name was Roola. Finally, she approached him. "Are all Lokarch as big as you?", she asked, while running her eyes over his massive physique. "No", he replied. "I am considered frail and feeble by the other members of my tribe." Roola's eyes widened, and she backed off, to report her findings to her fellow gossipers. One by one, chiefs of the various factions of the Moreni had been arriving, and now they formed a semi-circle about Worf, intent on questioning him. "At the cost of your own life, you have come into Moreni land. Why?", demanded the tallest of them, who Worf would discover was named Jarel. Worf chose to ignore the first half of the sentence. "Word has come over the mountains, to the Lokarch that the Moreni are preparing a war against us. Why? We have lived together in peace for an uncountable number of seasons." "You fear us then?", demanded another, Voram by name. "Of course we fear you. You throw your small spears much further and harder that we can throw our large spears. If you go to war with us we will all be killed. Is that not reason to fear you?" "If you fear dying, why did you come amongst us?" "I am not afraid to die. But I would resent dying for no reason. I come to try and dissuade you from your attack." "Bah! You lust after our women. We go to war to protect them." Worf managed to appear astonished. "Your women?", he demanded. "What would I want with your women? Not one of them could carry a half a bison back to the cave after a hunt. Not one of them could pull my travois when I change camps. And if I attempted to mate with one of them, I would split her in half!" "OOOH! That sounds like fun!", squealed Roola from beyond the periphery, and a great laugh went up. Apparently Roola had quite a reputation among the Moreni. But now the tension was broken. Even Jarel had chuckled at Roola's comment. But he tried to sound stern. "A woman of ours was raped and killed near here, just fifteen days ago. No such crime has been committed by one of our people in living memory. Who but the Lokarch could have done such a deed?" Worf shrugged. "Who discovered the body?", he asked. And from the instant silence that descended, he knew that he had set the Moreni thinking along a different track. "The body was discovered by a Moreni from far to the west, a stranger to us", was the reply. Worf nodded. "We too have had strange looking people, who claimed to be Lokarch, moving among us, and telling us that the Moreni were about to attack us to take over our hunting grounds. We however, had too much sense to believe them." This last remark caused some stirring and mutterings in the Moreni grouped behind the chiefs, but it was quickly silenced by a glare from Jarel. "Perhaps you are right", he said. "We ought to have been more suspicious of strangers bearing wild tales. Do you declare that the Lokarch have no designs on our women?" "I do, and I offer myself hostage while that claim is verified." "Good. We will hold you until it can be verified that no other Lokarch are on this side of the mountains." Then he stepped close to Worf and whispered, "Roola of course may be treated differently than other Moreni women." Immediately, Worf was again surrounded by bowmen, and lead off. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Roola was following. ** Data's reception by the Lokarch was almost identical to Worf's reception by the Moreni. He approached their camp in broad daylight with his hands extended to show that he bore no weapons, and was surrounded by spearmen a hundred yards from the main conclave. He was immediately lead to the center of the encampment where Lorch and Mrach were meeting with other Lokarch leaders. Lorch wasted no time on preamble. "You signalled that you wished to parlay with us. We do not wish to parlay with you. We want all Moreni out of our hunting grounds and will kill any we find on this side of the mountains." "We Moreni are a weak and feeble people", began Data. "We have no desire to trespass on your hunting grounds. But word has reached us that you prepare a war against us. What have we done to offend you?" "Bah!", barked Mrach, and launched himself at Data, his stone axe ready to swing. With consummate ease, Data caught him in one hand and held him high over his head. "We Moreni are a weak and feeble people", he repeated, "And I am the weakest and feeblest. Please tell me why you wish to go to war with us." Mrach continued to struggle mightily in Data's grasp, but he could not shake free. And although he beat upon the arm that held him, with his axe, it had no visible effect. Lorch eyed Mrach warily as he answered Data, with a new respect in his voice. "A stranger came through here and told us that the Moreni were moving to this side of the mountains because the game was giving out on their side. Naturally, we have to protect our hunting grounds." "We too had strangers come through our territory. They told us that the Lokarch were coming to our side of the mountain to steal Moreni women. Should we have believed them?" "Women!", hissed Lorch. "We have more women than we know what to do with. Why would we want yours?" "And we have more game than we know what to do with. Why would we want yours?" By now, Mrach was beginning to weaken. Data's hand was pressing hard on his solar plexus and breathing was becoming more and more difficult. Gently, Data lowered him to the ground and said, "I trust that our rules for Ruktuk are the same as yours?" Mrach sat down heavily, but nodded agreement. He had no idea what Ruktuk might be but he had no intention of further offending this "weak and feeble" being. "If the Moreni are not stealing our game, why is it suddenly so scarce?", demanded Lorch. Data peered around. "This many people in one place have probably driven the game away. Separate into smaller groups and scatter. You'll find plenty of game." "So you sue for peace and promise that never will the Moreni hunt game on this side of the mountain. Is that correct?", demanded Lorch. "Precisely", nodded Data. Lorch turned to a young buck by his side. "Have any Moreni signs been found on this side of the mountain?", he whispered. "None at all. But we have found plenty of animal tracks heading away from here. The stranger may be right as to why we can't find any game." Lorch turned back to Data. "Go and tell your people that they need have no fear of the Lokarch so long as they do not hunt on this side of the mountains. But if war ever starts, the Lokarch will crush the weak and feeble Moreni like we crush dead leaves in Autumn!" Chapter Nine Captain Picard joined Data and Doctor Crusher in the transporter room. Ruug, still clinging to Beverly's hand was also present. "A time of mixed feelings, Captain", said Beverly, her eyes misty. "Wesley is returning from his studies of the ice cap, and Ruug is leaving. I really have gotten attached to him." "Actually, Doctor, he never should have been beamed aboard. Only the fact that he suffered such a negative reaction to the sedation injection furnishes any excuse for that action. Star Fleet is adamant that we interfere with native life, even animal life, as little as possible." "A wise precaution, Captain", said Data. "Experience has shown that is virtually impossible for two cultures, one highly advanced, to interact without severe damage to the more primitive culture." "Precisely. However that doesn't apply in Ruug's case, since he is still at the animal level of existence. And I believe that Wesley is arriving." The familiar whine of the transporter indicated that someone or something was arriving, and when materialization was complete, it was Wesley who stood on the transporter platform. With no shyness at all, Wesley leaped off the platform, and proceeded to embrace his mother. Ruug watched with a darkening frown, and then turned and wiggled his fingers at Data. Data in turn signalled back, and for the benefit of the others, translated as he did so. "That's Wesley, Dr. Crusher's son." For a long moment, Ruug just stared. Then he signed back. "What a shame", interpreted Data. "In spite of her extreme ugliness, I was going to take the Doctor as my mate. But now that is impossible." And now the captain, who had been observing all of this in waxing fury, was near apoplexy. "Mr. Data!", he roared. "Have you brought a sentient being aboard my ship, and kept him here for fifteen days?" "Beg pardon, Captain", said Beverly, "But I was the one who brought him aboard. And we didn't realize that he could converse for several days. Then Data learned his language and we have been able to exchange rough ideas ever since. His language is extremely primitive." "Why don't you marry him, Mom?", snickered Wesley. "He'd make a great step-father." "Enough!", bellowed the captain. "Get him off of this ship immediately! And Mr. Data, I want to see you in my ready room at once!" Ruug Epilogue Ruug ambled aimlessly along the forest floor, his heart heavy. He could rejoin his group at any time, but just now he wanted to be alone. Although his sign language had no gesture for 'broken heart', he knew that he most definitely did not want company at present. But even lovesick Nutcrackers have to eat, and he eventually noticed an empty feeling in his belly. He peered around, seeking any one of the many trees, bushes or shrubs that produced edible fodder. And found directly above his head a cluster of his favorite fruit, large, red, juicy and ready for picking. Unfortunately they were well out of reach. Meanwhile, back on the Enterprise, Picard and Data were discussing Ruug in the captain's ready room. "I want your assessment", said the captain, "Of how much impact on his society, having that Nutcracker aboard, and then returning him to the planet, will have on the cultural development of his race. StarFleet is going to want a detailed report of what we've done and why, and what the consequences might be." Ruug sighed and was about to seek elsewhere for sustenance, when he was struck by a vision. He remembered seeing Beverly using a ruler to fetch a stethoscope that was on a shelf beyond her reach. Data hesitated for a moment. "I believe it will have no effect, Captain", he offered. Ruug searched the ground with his eyes and located a stick. With this he tried to reach the fruit, but it was still out of reach. "But he was aboard for fifteen days! He saw things that he shouldn't have seen for a million years!" And then Ruug remembered watching Geordie lash some spars together on one of his ship models. Quickly, he found another stick and some vines. He clumsily wrapped the vines around the two sticks, trying to make a longer stick. At first, the vine refused to hold, because the loose ends would simply unwind. But then he came up with the idea of jamming the ends of the vine between the sticks. And he had a longer stick, one that he had manufactured. "Consider the fact", continued Data, "That their communications are limited to sign language, and that their language has a vocabulary of only a hundred signs or so. They certainly have no sign for 'Starship', or 'Transporter' or any of the other items of technology Ruug saw while he was here. He has no way of communicating to others of his race what happened to him". With the longer stick, Ruug poked the cluster of fruit and the whole bunch fell into his waiting paw. Ruug strolled over to another tree, and sat himself down, with his back propped against it. He proceeded to munch on the delicacies he had just retrieved, but his eyes assumed a far-away look. "You feel that we have had no impact on the future evolution of Ruug's social structure?", demanded the captain. Once again, Ruug lifted his stick and made poking motions with it. Then he carefully laid his prize on the ground, and repeated the poking motions with his empty hand. "Absolutely, Captain." Ruug nodded in satisfaction. He had just invented the sign for 'tool'.