FicWad

- Traders' World -

--Fyarl Or Nothing--

20

In the north:

"That's a Fyarl Demon!" Giles whispered from behind a stall of dried meat goods. He stood with Picard as they watched a large creature entering a nearby clay-like building. It seemed that all the structures here were made from the dust that formed this world, bonded with some kind of chemical adhesive.

Across from them, at the far side of the building, were Beverly and Daniels.

"Are you quite sure?" Picard whispered back. "He looks remarkably like a Szaizonite to me."

"I'm sure. I happen to have had some...experience with Fyarl Demons." He wasn't about to embarrass himself by telling Picard he spent a full day as one. "How peculiar," he muttered. He realised the Captain was now frowning at him, so explained: "It's just that...if he were stomping about the place reeking havoc and tearing peoples heads off, I wouldn't worry."

Picard, quite unnerved by that comment, eyed Giles quizzically.

"But it's not common for a Fyarl Demon to take it upon himself to do the weekly shop. Which leads me to worry immensely."

"Then perhaps he is under the control of Evil?" said the captain.

"Quite possibly," Giles replied, watching the building carefully. "But I was under the impression it was your Commander Data we were expecting to find here."

Picard also watched the shop front. "He may still be here. This is a large planet for just one man to search alone."

"Then we must make certain that this demon does not find whatever technology it came for."

"I couldn't agree more, Mr. Giles." Picard signalled down the street for Daniels and Crusher to hold their position. He and Giles then made their way across to the shop, and cautiously entered through the large doorway.

"Jean-Luc, are you crazy/?" Crusher muttered to herself from her crouched position beside Daniels. She noticed that he was looking over at her. "You saw how /big that thing was."

"I'm sure they're just observing," Daniels assured her. "Captain Picard knows what he's doing."

Right at that moment, the wall of the shop front burst outward as an entire rack of heavy-duty shelving crashed into the street.

The crowds stopped and moved back from the area.

More ruckus came from within the building.

Crusher and Daniels exchanged surprised expressions.

The dust had begun to settle around the store, when two Bajoran bodies were thrown out through the opening and rolled to a rough stop in the road.

Daniels and Crusher shot out of hiding to check on their unfortunate team-mates. The security chief instinctively went to secure his captain's safety, and the doctor knelt beside Giles as she checked him over and asked if he was hurt.

"I-I'm intact. I think," Giles replied with a genuine smile.

Daniels leant Picard a hand to pull him up off the gravel floor. The captain brushed the worst of the dust from his clothes.

"What happened?" asked Crusher with surprise for the most part.

A guttural roar and a crash came from within the torn building.

"/That/," Giles replied with a nod.

Seeing him still sat on the hard ground, Crusher apologised and bent to take his arm. She was about to support him as he stood, until he realised he was missing his spectacles. He searched the floor around him before Daniels spotted them a few feet away. As the security chief went to collect them, Picard began to help Giles to his feet.

Crusher removed her odd tricorder to confirm that both men were uninjured.

"It was almost as though it recognised us," Picard noted. He and Giles were half up/half down when a shadow fell over them. They looked up.

Behind Crusher, the light-source above them was almost completely blocked by a huge, dark shape.

Beverly glanced up from her pocket-computer to see their squatted pose and the shaded concern across their faces. She allowed herself to turn rather stiffly at the shoulders.

The Fyarl roared out, grabbed the doctor mid-turn, and raised her effortlessly above its horned head. It shook her before the men, until the tricorder flew from her grasp and she screamed out.

Picard instinctively ran at the beast to aid his friend. He was still five feet from reaching it when it raised a heavily muscled leg and, with almost no effort, knocked the captain sprawling into the stall of dried meat. The stand folded on impact and the whole stall collapsed onto him.

Giles picked up the tricorder and prepared to throw it. He aimed for the familiar face of the Fyarl and commanded: "Release the woman, you beast!"

The demon considered him briefly and looked around. It saw Picard already scrambling out of the wreck of the stall, behind it Daniels now stood with his Bajoran phaser out. It looked from Giles to Picard to Daniels. It was surrounded.

Daniels held his fire until such a time that Crusher was safe.

Giles held his projectile high.

Picard came closer.

The Fyarl growled low, then it spoke! Its language was so simple in structure that the universal translator had no problem deciphering it instantly, "RALGOR CRUSH!" It drew back then, and flung the doctor into Giles.

Daniels prepared to fire, but the Fyarl spun at him with a hiss and sneezed a dense ball of mucus. The flying mucus hit Daniels in the face and encased his head. By the time he hit the floor, the phlegm had hardened to a crust - cutting off his airway. He smacked the butt of his pistol against the side of his head twice before the shell cracked enough for him to prize it apart.

Beverly struggled on the ground as she untangled herself from Giles. "My apologies, Mr. Giles."

Beneath her, Giles flushed a little. "It's quite alright."

An awkward moment passed before they began to scramble to their feet.

Picard ran behind the demon, lifting a shard of the smashed shelving as he went. He neared the beast before it turned and, with some exertion, he dove onto its spiny back - bracing the shelving across its throat with both hands in an attempt to subdue it. Like a wild bull, it flailed and bucked, waving its arms and screeching madly.

"Silver!" Giles called out to Picard and the others, looking around.

The Fyarl continued to flail with Picard holding on more for purchase than anything.

"Silver?" Crusher puzzled.

Giles had no idea if it even existed on this world. "Yes. Silver. Only a silver knife can stop this demon."

Picard landed at their feet and groaned.

The Fyarl cried out with triumph. It moved to Daniels as he just managed to free himself from the mucus helmet. The demon crushed the weapon in his hand and raised him by his throat. It squeezed and began to turn his neck as if to snap it.

Picard and Crusher saw this and ran. Without a better plan, Giles joined them.

The three humans attacked the Fyarl at random.

Picard jumped on its outstretched arm and tried to weigh it down. But it did not release Daniels.

Beverly leapt onto its back and began fisting its head.

Giles tackled it at the waist with little result.

"RALGOR SMASH HEADS!" the beast boomed, and swung its arm - launching Picard and Daniels into the street. The Fyarl caught hold of Beverly's arm as she punched, and threw her over its shoulder at the other men. It then plucked Giles from its waist and held him upside-down.

"Oh, dear lord," he muttered when faced with the topsy-turvy face of the drooling beast. "I should think Ralgor's rather mad at this point," he squeaked.

In reply, Ralgor snorted a hot wave of breath from its nostrils.

"Indeed."

It shook Giles like a rag doll and threw him with all its might into his team-mates.

The Fyarl snorted again and went back to retrieve something from the shop.

"Really..." Giles moaned as he sat up, "I'm supposed to be taking it easy."

Picard was knelt beside him. "You said something about silver, Mr. Giles?"

The others crowded around, and Daniels looked out for the demon returning.

Giles, through tired breaths, explained: "A Fyarl Demon can only be stopped by a silver weapon... most likely to the heart."

"Killing this creature isn't/ /our priority," Picard stated. "Surely it can tell us more if we can secure it alive."

The Fyarl appeared from the hole in the building carrying the spherical device it had been protecting inside the shop when it first attacked Picard and Giles. "SMASH HEADS!" it bellowed. "CRUSH BRAINS! RALGOR LIKE TO CRUSH BRAINS /NOW/!"

"Create a diversion," ordered the captain with a sudden change of heart. "I'll try to locate something we can use against it."

"It has to be silver," said Giles.

"Understood."

The team moved out.

Picard took the lead - heading for the tricorder that lay only a few yards from the feet of the heavy-set demon. The Fyarl set its sights on him.

Daniels crossed between Picard and the beast, joining the others in waving and yelling at the monster.

Captain Picard retrieved the sensor unit and began a localised scan for anything that matched the electrochemical composition of the metal silver. He was picking up two matches. As luck would have it, the nearer one was back inside the shop. He slipped passed the distracted creature and made for the entrance to the building.

Inside, the dark store was quiet and calm. A far cry from just a few minutes before. At the rear was the reception counter, and around him there were still a number of shelf units standing, mostly against the remaining walls. He followed the readings of the tricorder to the corner by the counter. Two feet ahead, six feet up.

He looked up to see a short sword-like weapon displayed on the top shelf. Its sleeve and hilt were ornately decorated. It was an antique, no doubt, from some race or another. How it came to be on this world, he dreaded to think. He reached up for the weapon. This was no time to dwell on old alien artefacts when his team was in danger. As he brought the ornament down from its place, a figure came from behind the counter and took hold of it.

The shop owner - a robust, hairy character with no sign of a neck between his head and his body - held the sword by its sleeve and pulled it toward himself.

Picard held onto it. He noticed then that markings on the sheath were of an ancient and extinct race that once inhabited the planet S-446 in the Denii-Doltii system. To a collector it would make a fine prize indeed. A pity then, that it was needed for a fouler purpose.

"Release my stock, you /thief/!" the man spat.

"I'm afraid I don't have time for this," Picard responded and took grip of the hilt. He drew the old sword from the sleeve and pushed the man away. Picard ran from the shop, the owner crying profanities after him.

Beverly crashed to the grit floor as Daniels tried to trip the Fyarl at the legs. The massive forearm of the demon landed against his temple, and the creature lifted him sideways and pounded him into the shop wall. The officer gasped on impact, and tumbled to the ground.

Giles toyed with the demon. He circled it, waving his arms and clicking his fingers.

"RALGOR BREAK FINGERS!" it warned in its simple language. Simple, yes. But deadly nonetheless.

"I don't doubt you," Giles replied. He stopped still when Ralgor was facing away from the shop door. He tried to make use of all those wasted hours he'd spent watching the insane Australian Steve Irwin taming deadly spitting cobras or catching captive crocs. Not that he'd admit to it. He kept very calm with his hands out in submission and remained still.

Ralgor was in an aggressive stance. He breathed heavy through his wide bull-nostrils, drooling at the mouth. He could attack at any second.

Danger, danger, danger! a voice rang in Giles' mind with a distinct Aussie accent. This little beauty could take off my arm in a heartbeat!

Ralgor's head was tilted forward, his eyes set on Giles.

Crikey, this li'l bliter's a cranky critter!

Giles stayed back and shushed the Fyarl gently. "It's alright. No one wants to hurt you. Calm down. Everything's good."

It seemed to ease Ralgor's temper to some degree.

/This is /intense! Now, these yella-backed Fyarl Demons max-out at about seven-foot! And this one's fully-grown! ...Okay...okay, he's settled down... Now all I need to do... Is jump on its head!

Giles shook the voice out of his mind. Perhaps Steve Irwin wasn't the greatest role model for such situations. He took one step closer to the Fyarl and spoke softly, looking deep into its eyes: "I understand what you're feeling. The rage, the need to destroy everything that stands in your path. I've felt it myself."

Ralgor listened to his words and did not strike.

"Try to think about... poppies... and whale-song. That's it..."

"Be SILENT, Watcher," Ralgor said, tensing up.

Giles almost swallowed his tongue with surprise at hearing the Fyarl speak so eloquently. "You know who I am?"

It did not respond, yet looked on him with a menacing grin.

After some consideration, Giles said, "You're the /Darkness/."

"If that is your name for me."

"How can a demon be your host?" he asked with fear. "Demon's have no soul."

"I see through the eyes of ALL my children," it replied smugly.

Giles scanned the street on either side of them.

"What are you looking for? You won't find me here. I am far from this place."

"W-where are you?" asked Giles.

The Fyarl laughed long and deep. "I shan't even dignify that with a response." The demon turned his horned head to one side, as if responding to something that wasn't there. Its eyes darted with thought for a time, then the demon's muscles suddenly loosened. "RALGOR...DIZZY," it grumbled, shaking its head.

Captain Picard stepped into the light and examined the sword. It was ancient indeed. So old that it was worn quite badly down. He felt sure that he was holding a priceless piece of history in his hands. Although the end of it was still at a point, the blade itself was nothing more than a smooth rod of silver. Well, almost silver. Its chemical density was only out by point-five percent. It would have to do. The demon was facing away. Beyond it stood Giles. Picard took the sword in his grip...

...And the hilt fell off.

Not /my fault/, he assured himself. It is old. He raised the spike, and sped toward the beast. Ralgor heard the man's heavy footsteps and threw back his elbow. Picard caught it in the face and was knocked back. Ralgor turned, and loomed over him with its arms held out in a threatening manner. He wouldn't get close enough to make the kill now. The Fyarl took a step toward him and growled. The captain spotted Giles standing right behind the monster and tossed the spike over Ralgor's head.

Ralgor blinked in confusion...

Then roared with pain as Giles thrust the rod of silver through the demon's thick body, piercing its living-dead heart. Ralgor whined like a small animal, then huffed.

The beast toppled.

Dirt kicked up when the demon's heavy form struck the ground. The powder circled about them as it settled, but Ralgor did not move.

Unsurprisingly, the street was now deserted. All but Alpha Team had long-since fled.

Daniels hobbled across to Giles, salvaging the spherical device and another item from the dusty ground as he went. "I think these are yours, Mr. Giles," he said, handing him his prized spectacles.

Giles looked them over to find they were undamaged, and thanked the security chief.

"Is it...dead?" Daniels inquired.

"Quite dead," Giles confirmed.

Daniels nodded, the relief in his face apparent, and limped ahead to locate their transport co-ordinates. He rubbed at the numbness that had begun to tingle at his face. He probably had the mucus to thank for that.

"Good show!" Giles said heartily as he pulled himself together and went to Picard.

"Well done, Mr. Giles," offered the Captain in return.

"On the contrary, well done to /you/, Captain. You've helped slay your first demon."

Picard's expression creased at the thought of that. "I must say... We're not accustomed to so ruthlessly killing our enemies."

"You have to keep in mind, Captain Picard, that these creatures are not living people. They are harbingers of death and chaos."

"I'm beginning to realise that, Mr. Giles," sighed Picard.

"Rupert. Please, call me Rupert."

Picard smiled, allowing himself to feel a degree of elation.

The two men shook hands in triumph.

Beverly approached, fixing her hair. "Well, /Rupert/, do you do this sort of thing often?"

Giles came over a little shy as he had a habit of doing from time to time. "More than I'd care to admit, Doctor."

"/Beverly/," she corrected. "Seeing as we're apparently on first-name terms, it's Beverly. Isn't that right, /Jean-Luc/?"

Picard smiled somewhat forcedly, slightly less comfortable with the casual offering of his informal name.

Beverly smiled. She'd expected that reaction from him. That was, in fact, why she'd done it. She felt quite joyful with their victory and hooked her arms around the men's. She walked with Picard on one arm and Giles on the other. "So, Rupert," she said, "there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

"Really?" He did not meet her eyes, but smiled awkwardly.

"Mmm," she replied playfully as they walked away. "What exactly is a 'Watcher'?"

Giles, enthused by her interest, happily explained, "Well..."

Away the Alpha Team went, leaving behind an abandoned street of dust and debris, and the corpse of their enemy.

Starfleet had championed over the north.