Chapter Text
The Star Beagle Adventures
Episode 5: All Good People
Scene 3: Werewolves
5.3
Werewolves
Spike had trained herself to be a tracker and she put serious effort into maintaining peak physical fitness. But a dozen bounding tellarites left almost no trail for her to follow in this forest - some bent twigs… claw marks on bark… If it weren’t for Captain Skip Howard’s presence in that group, Spike would probably have lost the trail. His boot treads were much easier to spot.
Even so, at least twice he had called to her from afar: “Up here, Lance Corporal!” “Not that trail, Spike - look 20 degrees to your left!”
She might have had a chance of catching up with the survey in the first few hours if it had not been for her squad. Privates First Class Raanda Habib, Sasha Soko, and Guz Maxwell, (respectively, “Boyfriend”, “Moscow”, and “Songbird”), were doing their best to keep up with Spike - they were teenagers in the peak of physical training - but for all their training, they didn’t have the years of experience running through wild environments while following a trail that had kept Spike and so many other marines alive and successful during wars first against the Klingon Empire, then against the Dominion.
There were times they could see Captain Howard - and seeing him helped them see the tellarites - scrambling up a nearly vertical cliff that Spike and her marines hit about five minutes later. Fording a river that Spike and her marines got to just about five minutes later.
The morning had gotten dark and misty and the biological survey (and their trailing protection detail) had covered nearly 5 miles and had gone up nearly 500 feet into a line of low, rocky mountains. Spike put up her fist instinctively and her marines stopped. She could hear them breathing heavily.
It was a scent that had stopped her. A heartbeat later, she realized she had led her team into the midst of a silent, nearly motionless pack of tellarites. Another hand signal told her team to remain silent. With yet another hand signal she permitted them to remove their hats and loosen their collars so they could cool down more quickly.
The tellarites were standing, squatting, lying on the ground - sniffing - seeking a scent… tasting the air… Some people compared these beastly aliens to pigs. Others compared them to goats. After following them at a breakneck pace through the forest and seeing them standing about, silent in the mist, it seemed to Spike more like she and her squad had been chasing a pack of werewolves.
The enormous Drisk javWalirsh and his daughter and assistant director, Chauv bavTlitch, loomed out of the mist - both much larger and heavier than even Sasha Soko, who was himself 6’4” and 240 lean, muscular pounds. These leaders of the tellarite survey handed some dirty, strong smelling roots and a few pieces of fluffy, white mushroom to the young marines.
“Eat. Refresh your strength, Stinky,” said Drisk as he handed the food to Spike.
“Perhaps you would like for us to make some nice, soft chairs for you,” Chauv said as she handed out food to the younger marines.
“Oh, that would be wonderful,” said Sasha.
Chauv slipped behind the large, young marine, wrapped her arms around him and rested her chin on his crew-cut, blonde hair. She reached around him to hand fluffy, white mushrooms to his fellow marines. “Oh, I’ll find a nice, soft place for you to sleep tonight, Tiny…” The enormous female tellarite slipped away into the trees, leaving Sasha blushing violently.
Drisk bent over, bringing his enormous face close to Sasha’s. His huge tusks were nearly touching Sasha’s mustache. “Be very careful, little pup. I think she likes you…”
“Well, her fur is nice and soft…” Sasha managed.
Drisk javWalirsh raised back up to full height and emitted a loud, barking “Ha!” Then a series of them as he walked off. It took a moment for it to register with the marines that the enormous tellarite was laughing.
Spike had only begun to wonder where the captain was when he appeared from the mist. The modern Star Fleet uniform jacket was gray and black. The red collar and cuffs of the undershirt were largely concealed by the more somber colors of the jacket. In terms of muted colors that allowed an officer to be camouflaged in a landscape at need, it was one of the best uniform designs Star Fleet had ever come up with.
Skip Howard was smiling and relaxed. There was hardly any evidence that he had spent the past nearly four hours keeping up with a pack of werewolf-like tellarites and easily outpacing his teenaged marine detail. “Be sure to clean all the dirt off those roots. Drisk and Chauv gave you food that is good for you, but the tellarite immune system is far more robust than ours. And be very careful with those mushrooms. I would recommend eating no more than half the amount they gave you. It’s mildly psychotropic. But it will help you pay better attention to the forest. You’re fighting the forest instead of flowing with it. Pay attention to how the tellarites run. This world is completely new to them and yet they are already creatures of this forest.”
“You trained with them?” asked PFC Guz Maxwell.
“Very astute… Yes, I spent my practicum year at Star Fleet Academy with the Tellarite Biological Survey on Tellar Prime - probably the most beautiful planet in the entire Federation. I spent two more years after I graduated with the Survey, earning their equivalent of a master’s degree in biology.” He looked about at the tellarites all around them, who were snuffling about or looking off into the distance. “They’ve catalogued at least 3 or 4 hundred separate species over the past 4 hours. And found evidence of a dozen more. We’re on the trail of a herd of herbivores. Be ready - they’ll take off with very little signal. You’ll see them all looking in the same direction just before they go. Learn how to use the land the way they do and you’ll be able to keep up.”
“How did they manage to catalogue hundreds of species when all they’ve been doing is running through the forest?” Raanda Habib asked.
Skip Howard laughed. “You were the ones who spent all morning running, Private. We stopped several times to collect samples. And the tellarites, even when running, memorize every smell, every change of scenery, everything they see and hear. We won’t know for certain how many species they catalogued until they write up their reports.”
The captain walked over to PFC Sasha Soko, put his hand on the large marine’s shoulder. Bavarian Forest Green fingernail polish that matched the captain’s eyeshadow. “A word in private, Private?”
The two men walked off a short distance, the small, slight captain speaking very quietly with the large young marine. Spike and the others could see the two talking a short distance away. They saw PFC Soko open the top of his jacket and pull his shirt away from his neck, allowing Captain Howard to give him an injection with a hyposyringe. The captain tapped the marine’s chest lightly with his fist. Twice. Then walked away to talk with a few tellarites.
“What was that about, Moscow?” Spike asked as the young marine rejoined the group.
Sasha blushed violently again, his ears lighting up as if they were on fire.
“It’s private, Spike,” said Guz Maxwell, drawing the attention of his fellow marines. Guz winked.
Spike’s eyebrows went up and her mouth made a silent “Oh.”
PFC Raanda Habib was still confused. “What?”
Guz silently mouthed the word, “Later” to her.
5.3