VOY 11 - The Garden by Star Trek

Author:Star Trek [Star Trek]
Language: deu
Format: epub
Tags: \Star Trek
Published: 2011-01-02T07:58:45.585000+00:00

Chapter 6

PARIS LEANED FORWARD AGAINST THE SAFETY STRAPS, peered past Grayrose's right wing at the green and gold patchwork that unreeled beneath the shuttle. By his best estimate, they were maybe thirty kilometers from the citadel, though the placement of the shuttle's windows made it impossible to see back the way they'd come. The lake that Grayrose had mentioned was clearly visible, a narrow arc that was either spring-fed and -drained or completely artificial, and even as he thought that, Grayrose threw the shuttle into a steep bank. She straightened only when they were flying parallel to the shore, and Paris released his grip on the edge of his chair. He had always counted himself a good pilot, but Grayrose was something else. Either she's physically immune to g-force blackout, he thought, or I should be thinking about walking home. He smiled at that. Before he'd joined Voyager's crew, the word "home" had had too many connota-

tions, too many bad memories-too many reminders, if he was honest with himself, of all the ways he'd screwed up. But now, it had a relatively simple meaning: "home" was Voyager, nothing more, and nothing less. Home is where your species is, he thought, and let his grin widen. But I do wonder where Revek thinks his home is.

"Enjoying the ride?" Revek called, raising his voice to be heard over the noise of the shuttle's triple engines, and Paris nodded.

"Sure. Do we get a repeat performance on the way back?"

Grayrose's wings twitched at that, but she said nothing.

"What do you expect from a native flyer?" Revek asked in return, and Paris blinked. He hadn't thought of the winged Kirse as flying under their own power, had somehow assumed that the mass/wing ratio was too great-and it still looks heavy to me, he thought, slanting a wary glance at Grayrose. But if the Kirse were significantly lighter than she looked-hollow-boned, maybe, like terrestrial birds-and if the wing-span was larger than it seemed from the folded membranes, then he supposed it was possible.

"I didn't know you could fly," he said, to Grayrose, and felt instantly foolish. "I mean, yourself, without power," he added, and felt even less intelligent as the Kirse tilted her head to look back at him.

"It's a convenience of the form," she said. "I was designed for it."

"Designed?" Paris repeated, his attention sharpening, and Revek smiled.

"Bred for it, I think you mean, Gray."

"Bred for it, yes," Grayrose repeated, and turned her attention to her controls. Paris watched her, knowing better than to pursue the question, but

unable to shake his conviction that the Kirse had meant what she had said. Designed, not bred, had been her first choice, and that could be important information later. Grayrose leaned comfortably against a padded cylinder that ran from floor to ceiling, her safety harness running around shoulders, hips, and thighs, leaving her wings and arms free. Looking more closely, Paris could see the wing membranes shiver faintly with each adjustment Grayrose made to her primary controls, and

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