[Galaxy Of Fear] - 08(7)

“Nine months now,” Tash put in.

“-nine months,” Zak agreed. Sadly, he realized how quickly the time had passed since it had happened. “They were on Alderaan when the Empire destroyed the planet.”

Sh’shak paused a moment, then bowed his head. His wings fluttered a low, sad note. But in Basic, his voice was hard. “These are sad times,” the S’krrr said.

Zak thought he heard anger in Sh’shak’s voice and looked at Tash. The Arrandas knew that they weren’t the only people in the galaxy who’d been hurt by the Empire. Zak wondered if Sh’shak might be a Rebel sympathizer.

“Are you the Sh’shak?” Hoole asked. “I have heard your name mentioned several times since I began studying your planet. You are quite famous here.”

Sh’shak ran his arm across the top of his hard shell head. “I am known among my people,” he said modestly.

“Poetry must be really popular here,” Zak said, raising his eyebrows.

Vroon spoke up. “Oh, it’s not his poetry that’s made him so famous here. He has a far more… aggressive talent.”

Sh’shak’s forearms twitched. “As I said, I have the honor of being known among my people. But perhaps there are more interesting things to talk about than a humble S’krrr such as me. Have you seen the garden yet, Hoole?”

Zak could tell Sh’shak wanted to change the subject, but now he was interested in what Vroon had said. What did he mean by an “aggressive talent”?

But he had no time to ask as Vroon eagerly led them back down the garden path and toward a small cottage.

The cottage was very old-fashioned. There wasn’t a bit of durasteel or plastic anywhere on the outside-just moss-covered stones and a slanted wood roof. Vroon explained why. “All natural materials are used to ensure that no technology interferes with the true course of nature.”

Even the inside of the cottage was old-fashioned. The doors didn’t automatically slide open and shut-they had to be opened and shut by hand. Wooden tables lined the walls, and on these tables lay trays of seeds, and pots filled with small, growing flowers.

“There’s no glass or transparasteel on the windows,” Zak noticed. “Everything is wide open.”

“Of course, of course,” Vroon hummed. “The shreevs would not be able to see the glass.” Vroon made a quick, high-pitched fluttering sound with his wings that sounded almost like a chuckle. “The stupid creatures would fly right into them. And of course we can’t have that.”

The visitors continued touring the cottage, as Vroon showed them his various projects. One particular plant had caught Tash’s attention. Next to it sat the only real piece of scientific equipment in the workshop. Several wires had been attached to the broad green leaves of the plant. The wires led to a small recording device with a digital display screen.

As she examined it, and Hoole and Sh’shak entered into a discussion of their own, Zak decided to get some information from Vroon. “Is that legend true?” Zak asked as matter-of-factly as possible. “If one shreev is killed before its time, the whole balance of nature in the garden is thrown off?”

“Very true,” Vroon said. A gleam appeared in his eye as he turned to study the young human. “The Sikadian Gardens are extremely delicate. The slightest change could mean complete and utter disaster.”

Zak swallowed. “I can’t believe this place is that… urn” - he searched for a word-“breakable.”

Vroon’s wings fluttered irritably. “Oh, you can’t, can you? Let me show you something.”

Vroon led Zak to a table across the room. On the table, something lay covered by a large square of cloth. Vroon pulled back the cloth to reveal a glass container filled with the same large beetles-drog beetles-Zak had seen earlier. There were many of them, crawling and swarming over one another in the container. Their legs worked frantically as they tried to crawl up the sides of the glass. Every once in a while, one of the drogs would flutter its wings and leap up, only to slam against the top of the container.

Vroon leaned close to the container. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

“Urn, yeah, I guess,” Zak agreed politely. Beautiful was not the word he would have chosen.

“How many do you count?” Vroon asked.

Zak paused. “Twelve. No, thirteen.”

Vroon nodded. “Yesterday, there were two. Drog beetles reproduce very quickly. Fortunately, the average shreev eats thirty beetles a day. Then they generally sleep for the rest of the day, which is also fortunate. If they ate more than thirty, they might wipe out the drog beetles. As it is, they eat just enough to control the population.”