by Judith
An ensign “wearing a red support-services shirt raised her hand and Palamas nodded at her. “Is that what the fourth figure on the screen shows? An egg casing? It looks so large.”
“No, but that’s a good question. What we’re looking at here is an adult hibernation cocoon. Apparently, it’s an evolutionary artifact from the Talin’s predecessor species. Many equatorial lifeforms on the planet continue to exude a moisture-impervious substance which hardens into a protective shell. The creatures undergo this type of sealed-in hibernation during the extreme seasonal variations when water virtually disappears from the planet’s equatorial deserts. The Talin themselves still retain this capability, though because of their relatively advanced technology—including extensive irrigation projects, climate-controlled housing, and efficient agriculture—a hibernation cocoon like this one is rarely seen among the Talin except in cases of extreme trauma or illness. Indeed, in most of the major nation states, there is a cultural prejudice against it—almost as if it’s a reminder of their bestial past. We have noticed that in their popular entertainment, references to the hibernation cocoon and the distinctive odor of the skin secretion which forms it are usually at the level of what we would call crude humor.”
“How can you tell male from female?” another crew member asked. Kirk looked again at the image on the screen and though both adult figures were virtually identical, he decided the male was probably the adult with the more pronounced cranial crest—it seemed to be composed of thick tufts of hair about ten centimeters high which ran in a stripe from the center of the head along the extended neck, getting shorter until it vanished about halfway down the creature’s back. The other adult’s crest was only half as high and disappeared on the neck, not the back. [104] Of course, Kirk had seen enough different lifeforms in his career that he wouldn’t be surprised if the male turned out to be the small, green, childlike figure.
“Another good question,” Palamas said. “There are few obvious body structure differences and, among Talin themselves, the chief distinction seems to involve odor. The FCO suspects that pheromones are also involved, though Talin biologists have not yet formalized the concept of hormones that act outside the body, so there is no real literature or transmissions Starfleet can study.” Palamas continued, looking back at the screen. “Other sex-related differences are the range of colors through which the skin can change, similar to that of the Vulcan askor or the Earth chameleon. Males can color change further into the red spectrum; females change further into the blue. Again, color changing might be far more complex than it appears to be in just the visible spectrum, but the Talin haven’t investigated this so we can’t know for sure, ourselves.
“Now, as you can see here, Talin children start out green and, as they mature, slowly acquire the ability to change skin color. We believe the whole phenomenon involves a mixture of conscious and autonomic control, somewhat similar to our own breathing process. The FCO doesn’t claim to have a great understanding of the importance of skin-color changing—timing, setting, taboos, and so on—because it is somehow closely related to pair bonding and mating. As I’ve said, the Talin are very similar to humans circa 1975 to 2000 C.E., and that extends to their cultural reluctance to discuss or depict the details of their mating habits in broadcast transmissions or any publications intended for wide release. Unfortunately, those are the only data sources the FCO has been able to study in detail thus far.”
“That’s only because the Enterprise hasn’t gotten there yet!” someone called out and the audience cheered and broke into applause. Kirk smiled at their enthusiasm. According to the report he had received along with his orders, one of the Enterprise’s functions on this mission would be to place FCO intrusive-collection specialists into important data-collection [105] sites to extract more detailed information than was currently available.
Palamas glanced at the screenpad on her podium as the applause died down, then said, “Well, that’s about all the time we have for today, so—yes, Dr. McCoy?”
McCoy stood up beside Spock. “Just one last question, Lieutenant. You say the Talin are similar to humans in the last quarter of the twentieth century?”
“That’s right.”
Kirk saw Spock whisper something to McCoy, but McCoy ignored him. “In other words, they’re showing great promise in technology, they’re on the brink of stepping out into space, they’ve achieved global communications, and have made a start at conquering most major diseases.”
Palamas thought the doctor’s words over for a moment. “Well, yes, in general, I’d say that is the case.”
McCoy raised a finger and Kirk could see that he was winding up for the kill. “And, just to clarify things, these creatures do have emotions, don’t they? I mean, they don’t try to hide them or anything?”
Kirk could see Palamas take a quick look at Spock. “They’re not Andorians, Dr. McCoy, but the Talin do have a complex range of emotions, of which most are incorporated into their culture in an open and accepted manner.”
McCoy smiled at Spock. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Great achievements. Openly emotional. I just wanted to make sure I was clear on that.”
As McCoy sat back down, Spock stood up.
“Yes, Mister Spock?” Palamas asked. Kirk could see she knew she was not going to be able to get away easily. After almost five years onboard the Enterprise, most of the original crew knew that when McCoy and Spock were involved in one of their ‘discussions,’ the best place to be was on another ship. Or in another sector.
“A further point of clarification, if you please, Lieutenant. Is not one of the main points of comparison between the contemporary Talin and late-twentieth-century humans the fact that [106] Talin is currently poised on the brink of a devastating thermonuclear war between several of its most advanced nation states?”
Kirk knew he wouldn’t have to ask what Spock and McCoy had been discussing during the briefing. Their questions were making it all too obvious.
“That’s correct, sir,” Palamas acknowledged. The fragile stability of Talin was one of the chief reasons for the urgency of the Enterprise’s current assignment.
“And furthermore,” Spock continued, “is it not true that the root cause of the conflict between the Talin nations is based not on need but on ideological differences?”
“As far as we can ascertain, that’s also correct, yes, sir.”
“Ideological differences that could best be described as ... emotional in nature?”
But McCoy wasn’t going down without a fight. “You’re joking, Spock. You can’t honestly believe that a debate that’s been going on for a century between all the different sides on Talin is an emotional conflict?”
Vulcans had emotions, they just didn’t permit those emotions to show in public or allow them to control their actions. But Kirk suspected that the bland expression on Spock’s face as he looked down at McCoy was really an unbridled display of Vulcan superiority. “Dr. McCoy, the histories of a thousand worlds offer ample proof that, at root, virtually all political conflicts are emotional in nature, no matter how well-disguised they are by ideological rhetoric.”
“Good Lord, Spock, the Talin are arguing over who has the right to educate their children, who controls the water resources, at what regional level government responsibilities should be—”
“Doctor, the Talin are arguing over who is bigger and better. Everything else is beside the point.”
McCoy folded his arms against his chest. “Well, at least you’re the right one to be discussing points.”
“Doctor, I fail to see—”
Palamas leaned closer to the sound pickup on the podium so [107] her amplified voice overpowered Spock’s. “We’re out of time for now, so I’d like to thank you all for your attendance today. Tomorrow, I’ll continue with an overview of a few of the unique characteristics of the Talin and their planet which has made applying the Richter Scale of Culture so simple. For a change.” The large viewscreen above Palamas shut down and the
audience broke into appreciative applause, drowning out McCoy’s reply to Spock’s unheard statement.
Kirk moved against the flow of people leaving the theater so he could join Spock and McCoy. Both officers were now in a private discussion with Palamas at the podium as she gathered up her screenpad and microtapes. As Kirk approached, he heard her saying something about ‘the MAD deterrence.’
“MAD?” Kirk asked as he stepped up behind McCoy and Spock.
“Mutual assured destruction,” Palamas said. “Each of the belligerent nation states on Talin possesses enough fusion weapons and appropriate delivery systems to totally annihilate its adversary, no matter which side attacks first. The MAD theory, as it was called when it was developed on Earth, presumed that since there was no advantage to striking first, then peace would be maintained. Or at least, conflict would not escalate past the point of no return.”
“A typically human theory,” Spock commented.
McCoy leaned past Kirk to glower at the science officer. “It worked on Earth, Spock.”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “For approximately sixty years, Doctor. Until your Colonel Green decided quite emotionally, and quite illogically, that there would be an advantage—”
Kirk held up his hand. “Gentlemen, I don’t think we have to give the A and A officer a rundown on Earth history.” He smiled at Palamas. He had forgotten how brilliantly blue-gray her eyes were.
“Thank you, Captain,” the lieutenant said. “And actually, both Dr. McCoy and Mr. Spock are correct.”
McCoy bowed his head. “Why, thank you, Lieutenant.”
“She said we were both correct,” Spock emphasized.
[108] “How so?” Kirk asked.
“Historical records from the time do show that at particular times of tension, the leaders of Earth’s nation states made the decision not to commit fusion weapons to a conflict because they feared the resultant escalation of hostilities would lead to a conflict in which both sides would be destroyed. Therefore, when both sides are perceived by each other to be evenly matched, then the MAD deterrence can be said to be effective.”
“The key word being ‘perceived,’ ” Kirk put in.
Spock nodded. “As soon as one side in a conflict determines that it has an advantage over the other—at the time of Colonel Green, it was Hanson Smith’s surprise development of the particle curtain ten years earlier than the scientific community thought possible—then there is a benefit to be had in striking first, before the sides can be equalized again.”
McCoy put his hand on Kirk’s shoulder to prevent the captain from interrupting. “But Spock, even the Third World War didn’t involve the use of fusion weapons. Surely that means that something was working.”
“Doctor, the Eugenics Wars of the 1990s were not called such by historians until three decades after the fact. There was so much upheaval in your world at the time, that few, if any, of the general population were aware that the struggle between the so-called genetic supermen was actually going on behind the scenes. Only with the revelations made possible by the passage of years did Earth historians decide to reclassify key events. Because of those reclassifications, your Second World War was deemed to finally end in the early 1990s with the events immediately following arbitrarily being called the Third World War. But you are quite right in that it was not an open conflict of munitions and armies. It was a hidden and secretive conflict of science and politics. And, I need not add, of emotions.”
Palamas smiled in conciliation at McCoy. “I’m afraid he has you there, Doctor. But who knows? In another hundred years, we could have new interpretations.”
“History is history,” McCoy grumbled.
“And it’s written by the winner,” Kirk said. Then, before [109] either Spock or McCoy could continue, “But tell me, Lieutenant, is the situation on Talin actually that precarious? I know that what I saw in the FCO report was alarming, but we’ve seen dozens of worlds successfully pass through tense political situations. And the Talin cultures do appear to be stable.”
Palamas frowned. “We have also seen dozens of worlds fail to survive situations similar to what Talin is experiencing, Captain. I think that’s why the crew has become so caught up in our mission to Talin IV.”
“Please, let me get those.” Kirk reached out to take the screenpad and collection of microtape wafers from Palamas. He ignored the look that McCoy and Spock thought they exchanged without him seeing. If he was being obvious, then at least his actions wouldn’t be misinterpreted. “And perhaps, Lieutenant, you’d like to continue this conversation over a drink in Dr. McCoy’s cabin.” With Scott still working overtime to get the sensor satellites adjusted to the FCO’s specifications, that’s where the best liquid refreshments aboard were to be found.
“Thank you, Captain, Doctor. I’d enjoy that.” But she didn’t relinquish any of the items she was carrying. “And I can carry my own books home from school, thanks anyway.”
Kirk ignored her words and focused instead on the smile she had given him. Two more days without too much to do might be pleasant after all, provided he had someone to share them with. As he led Palamas, Spock, and McCoy from the theater, he said, “You were explaining to us why you thought the crew was so involved with our mission, Lieutenant.”
“There are a number of factors, Captain. I think we’re all hoping that the Talin will survive their present difficulties, the way Earth did. And since the majority of the crew is from Earth and Earth colonies, there is definitely a sense of personal involvement.”
Kirk walked toward the theater doors without breaking stride and they swept open before him. “To be fair, Lieutenant, I’ve yet to see a mission that this crew didn’t get personally involved with.”
[110] “Well, yes, sir. The crew is an extremely committed group. But ...”
“Go on, please,” Kirk said as they moved through the corridors toward the turbolift.
“I think some of the crew are hoping that this might turn into a first contact mission, sir.”
Spock stopped almost as quickly as Kirk. McCoy took a few more steps before he realized he was walking by himself.
Kirk frowned. “Why would anyone think we’re on a first contact mission?” The Enterprise had seen her share of first contacts with other civilizations, but most had been the inevitable meetings between spacefaring explorers. The Talin had barely left the orbit of their own planet and were firmly under the jurisdiction of the FCO.
Palamas shrugged. “Reading between the lines of the FCO report on the political situation on Talin, sir, there is a better than fifty percent chance that they will become involved in an all-out fusion war within the next six months.”
“Sixty-four point five percent,” Spock said.
“What does that have to do with anything?” Kirk asked.
Palamas looked embarrassed. “Well, sir. Membership in the Federation has been shown to have a ... calming influence on a planet’s regional disputes. Some of the crew feel, that ... perhaps to save the Talin—”
“We’d reveal ourselves?” Kirk was astounded.
“Well, yes, sir. Something like that.”
Kirk turned to Spock. “Spock, according to the FCO projections, when might the Talin be expected to be able to learn that there are several spacefaring cultures in their vicinity?”
“Apparently, Talin IV does have some unique characteristics which make a precise time difficult to calculate, Captain, but at the minimum estimation, the Talin are at least twenty to thirty standard years from achieving the required technological breakthroughs.”
Kirk looked back at Palamas. “Twenty to thirty years, Lieutenant. Whoever makes first contact with the Talin, it [111] won’t be us. And I’m surprised the crew isn’t more aware of General Order Number One.”
“Oh, they’re aware, Captain Kirk. A lot of them just can’t see the point of noninterference if it means an entire race might die.”
McCoy stepped closer. “You can’t blame them for hoping, Jim. It’s
not easy for any one of us to just stand back and watch a disaster unfolding. And I’d guess that you know that as much as anyone onboard.”
“Captain,” Palamas said, “I know that there is no member of this crew who is planning on doing anything other than his or her duty on this mission. It’s just that given the severity of the situation, they think that Starfleet and the Federation Council might make an exception to the Prime Directive.”
Spock placed his hands behind his back. “As soon as an exception is made, Lieutenant, it is no longer the Prime Directive. As a historian, you should be aware of the tragedies that inevitably result when a more powerful culture attempts to set standards for those that cannot stand against it. The Federation flourishes because it is founded on the principles of informed choice and cooperation among equals. We cannot presume to have either the moral or ethical right to proclaim what other cultures should do until they have achieved a level of development sufficient enough to consider what we have to offer as equals. They must be free to turn us down, without feeling forced to capitulate in order to gain our advanced technology and knowledge. For those reasons, among many others, it is a most logical and necessary position.”
Kirk could see the fire building in the lieutenant’s eyes as she listened to Spock’s lecture. “But as a historian, Mr. Spock, I am also aware that it was an uncrewed Vulcan robot probe that prevented a cometary fragment from wiping out half of central Europe in the early 1900s, by diverting the body to explode over an uninhabited region of Siberia. That changed the future history of the entire planet.”
“That incident,” said Spock, “was a preventable natural [112] disaster, not in any way caused by the humans of the time. The Prime Directive explicitly directs us to protect emerging cultures from similar disasters, provided we do not reveal ourselves. Indeed, the Enterprise herself has done so many times in the past.”