“A need,” Daniel Abioye interposed, almost as if they were a single speaker.
“—to cooperate more closely,” DiFalco finished. “It’s an opportunity to come closer at last. So we wish to meditate on thoughts of welcome for the Medusan representatives, and on our shared commitment to resolve this threat to the peace.”
“We invite all of you to join us in that contemplation,” Logan finished.
Sulu traded a look with his fellow bridge officers, who both seemed game. It struck him as a good idea, in fact; even in a crew selected for xenophilia and fascination with the unknown, the literally maddening appearance of the Medusans was a source of reflexive fear and revulsion in many humanoids. Sulu admittedly shared that reflex, even though he’d worked with Kollos briefly nine years ago (or ceded the helm console to him, to be more honest) and had been in awe of the ambassador’s navigational gifts. Encouraging the crew to focus on thoughts of welcome and acceptance in advance of Kollos’s arrival seemed like a good idea.
“What is the point?”
The question came from Specialist T’Nalae, whose good mood from the music appeared long gone. The young Vulcan stepped toward the robed foursome, her mien confrontational. “Sitting around and thinking won’t bring back the dead Aenar, and it won’t protect the ones that are left.”
DiFalco frowned at her, confused. “I didn’t think you’d need help understanding the emotional need to grieve, T’Nalae.”
“Oh, I understand all too well. And I resent that you’re exploiting others’ deaths to call attention to your own deluded belief system. Just because you share a similar aberration to the Aenar doesn’t make you a ‘family.’ At least they had the decency not to impose their aberration onto others’ attention.”
Sulu moved in to put a stop to this, facing down T’Nalae (even though she was noticeably taller than he was) and speaking quietly but firmly. “Specialist, you’re out of line. Whether anyone participates in this vigil is up to them, and it’s not for you to judge. If you object, you’re welcome to leave—quietly.”
Anger and defiance flashed in her eyes, but after a few seconds, she calmed herself. “Yes, sir. Understood.”
She turned and left briskly, leaving Sulu puzzled. Since she came from an unpopular minority on Vulcan, he would’ve expected her to feel more sympathy for other atypical groups.
In any case, the important thing now was to restore calm and positivity. Luckily, everyone else in the crowd seemed content to put T’Nalae’s outburst behind them and join in the vigil.
As Sulu and his friends led the gathered crew in sitting cross-legged around the platform, he contemplated the look of serenity on DiFalco’s comely face. He had long been skeptical of her affiliation with the New Human movement, but it seemed to have brought her greater self-assurance and inner peace. In some way, she really did seem larger than before. Could it be that this was the future of human evolution after all?
The next question that came to him sent a chill through him. Was that what the Aenar’s slaughterers were afraid of? And if so, who else might they come for next?
Two
This time, Kirk and Spock did not need to wear protective visors when Ambassador Kollos and Miranda Jones beamed aboard. The radiation shield in front of the upgraded transporter console had been designed with built-in filters against the harmful optical frequencies emitted by Medusans—a feature reflecting Starfleet’s anticipation at the time of an increased Medusan presence in years to come, though it had turned out not to be needed until now. Also, both transporter technology and Medusan mobile habitats had been refined to reduce the chance of stray emissions leaking through an incompletely reassembled habitat shell.
Still, Kirk was almost grateful for a barrier between himself and Miranda Jones, for he was uneasy about facing her again. When he thought back on their first encounter, he was embarrassed by the way he and his crew had behaved toward her and her partner Kollos. He hoped that he had grown enough since then to be a better host this time.
When the shimmer of the transporter energies faded, Kirk’s eyes were immediately drawn to Doctor Jones. At first, her poised, regal beauty seemed unchanged by the passing years—though after a moment, he realized that she had simply matured gracefully, and that his own standards had matured along with him. Still, she had not changed her style very much. She still wore her hair long and elaborately braided, a fashion of the previous decade. Perhaps she’d been too long out of touch with shifting styles in the Federation—or maybe she simply wore her hair that way for her own pleasure. Now that he thought about it, he’d probably never met a woman with more disdain for other humans’ standards of physical beauty. Although the diaphanous sensor web she wore to compensate for her lack of sight, with its lenses and emitters disguised as decorative gems, was still a sublime and elegant piece of tailoring.
By contrast, the ambassador’s mobile habitat bore little resemblance to the simple hexagonal-prism box he had traveled in nine-odd years ago—a unit that some crew members had jokingly referred to as a “cat carrier” out of the ambassador’s hearing (assuming Medusans had hearing). The new model was more upright and streamlined, equipped with inbuilt antigravs so that Kollos could move under his own power. It also appeared to have a pair of robotic manipulator arms folded up in recesses along its sides, and the lid had a domelike shape that vaguely implied a head. Perhaps the hint of anthropomorphism was meant to put humanoids more at ease toward the Medusan within.
As the captain and first officer moved out from behind the radiation shield, Doctor Jones and the ambassador’s habitat moved forward off the platform in perfect sync, as if they were one being—which, in a real sense, they were. “Captain Kirk,” Jones said, extending her hand. “And Commander Spock. It’s a pleasure to see you again. Kollos and I thank you for your assistance with the tragedy on Andoria.”
Kirk clasped her hand graciously, and Spock gave a nod of solemn respect. “Doctor Jones,” Kirk said. “And Ambassador Kollos. Welcome aboard the Enterprise once again.” His eyes darted between the human face and the featureless dome, unsure which one to address.
Taking pity on him, Jones smiled a bit wider. Her eyes turned in his direction when he spoke, but she no longer pretended to focus them on his. “You may address me when speaking to either of us, Captain. We are both in here.” She tilted her head toward the habitat. “And both in there as well. Though there are no human or Vulcan words for what that’s like.”
She turned to take in her surroundings, spreading her arms to widen her sensor web, presumably for a better scan. Her head tilted in a listening pose as she did so. “Your starship has changed a great deal in the past decade. And your uniforms. Both more utilitarian than before.”
“In some aspects,” Kirk agreed. “But in others, I find them both more comfortable. May we show you around a bit before you see your quarters?”
Jones’s face brightened. “Oh, we’re in no rush to retire, Captain. Being on a Starfleet ship again is quite invigorating, especially one so new. I’m eager to see how you’ve advanced.”
There was something different about her manner now, yet it was familiar as well. Spock caught it too, and as the party left the transporter room, he tilted his head and asked, “Are we now addressing Ambassador Kollos?”
She laughed. “If you prefer to think of it that way, yes. But you know, Spock, that the distinction is not so clear-cut.”
“Yes, I remember. But my meld with the ambassador was for mere minutes. After nine point three eight years, I imagine the difference between the two personalities may be almost negligible.”
Something shifted in Jones’s features, and Kirk sensed that the doctor was in control again. “In some respects, yes, Mister Spock. In others not so much. It’s similar to the Vulcan concept of tvi-dah’es.”
Kirk stared. “Mister Spock?”
“Roughly ‘inner duality,’ Captain, though it is difficult to interpret the concept.”
Jones grew thoughtful. “L
et me put it this way, Captain. Are there times when the officer in you has one thought and the man another? And are there times when you set one aside so the other can take the lead?”
Kirk understood what she meant very well. He’d struggled throughout his career with the conflicts between the discipline of the officer and the passions and loneliness of the man. “I see your point. We all have different facets within us.”
“Yes. Kollos is like a … a side of myself that I sometimes bring to the fore. A more relaxed, wise, and joyous side, so it’s generally a pleasure to embrace it.” Her speech became more animated again. “And Miranda is the same for Kollos when we interact with other Medusans. She is my more cautious and analytical side. Perhaps more reserved, and more vulnerable, but endlessly curious about aspects of my people I used to take for granted. I’ve gained so much from having that new perspective joined to mine.” The shift in personality made it easier for Kirk to keep track of the shift in pronouns. And he doubted Jones would speak so freely of her own vulnerability.
Kollos was content to leave his Medusan self in the VIP guest suite while Jones toured the ship for both of them. While the new mobile habitat was far more secure against accidental opening than the original carrier, there was no reason to take chances when Kollos could see and speak through Jones at any time. Apparently it was more difficult to sustain the mental bond over large distances, but the range was sufficient to encompass the Enterprise.
The tour proved refreshing for Kirk. It had been a while since he’d had the opportunity to show the refitted Enterprise to someone who had known the ship only in its previous configuration. And the fusion of Jones and Kollos proved a far more engaged guest than Jones had been by herself. They were suitably intrigued by the ship’s cutting-edge technology, and they were more eager to meet and interact with the crew.
“It’s a shame that the joint navigation project hasn’t borne more fruit,” Kirk said as he and Spock escorted their dual guest down into the monitor station for the ship’s main sensor array, located on the lowest deck of the saucer-shaped primary hull and accessed via companionway from the deck above. “We’d hoped to have multiple Medusans serving in the fleet by now.”
The station was a toroidal room circling the cylindrical pillar of the saucer’s central computer core, with four stand-up monitoring consoles evenly spaced around the pillar. The outer wall was covered in circuit panels and maintenance access ports for the wide variety of powerful detection systems filling the cross-shaped outboard sensor array that surrounded the room, while removable floor plates granted access to the planetary sensor dome beneath it. At the moment, the monitor station was crewed by two enlisted personnel, Chief DiFalco of the navigation department and Specialist T’Nalae from sciences. The arrival of three new people made for a tight fit, reminding Kirk why he usually didn’t include the station in his tours for visiting dignitaries. But Kollos had not been able to resist a look at the Enterprise’s navigational sensors.
Miranda Jones’s face beamed while her hand roved across the circuit panels for the forward stellar graviton detectors, and Kirk again sensed that it was not the doctor in control at the moment. “That’s quite all right, Captain. It’s true that the obstacles to integrating Medusans into Starfleet have proved more extensive than we hoped a decade ago. But our partnership has produced many improvements in the sensor systems you see around us—insights based on Medusan senses and navigational methods. To a large extent, those improvements have already achieved the benefits that we hoped to bring about with corporate bonds between Medusans and Federation telepaths.” The smile returned to Jones’s face. “And speaking just for ourselves, this particular corporate bond has provided numerous other benefits, so it was entirely worth the trouble.”
“I’m gratified that you feel that way,” Kirk said. He wished to say more, but the presence of the two crewwomen deterred him. Glancing toward them, he saw that Chief DiFalco was gazing raptly at Jones/Kollos, while T’Nalae bore a look of irritation on her delicate features as she strove to remain focused on a circuit diagnostic. Kirk tried not to read too much into her reaction. He was naturally aware of T’Nalae’s public outburst during the New Human vigil on the rec deck the other night, but per Sulu’s report, it had not been serious enough to warrant disciplinary action, and the specialist had engaged in no other disruptive behavior since. Conventional wisdom among Vulcans was that V’tosh ka’tur were too irrational and unstable to be capable of the discipline of Starfleet, but in her brief time aboard, T’Nalae had done nothing to prove them right. She may not have been the easiest person to get along with, but then, neither was Leonard McCoy.
Jones/Kollos had noted DiFalco’s attention as well, turning to smile at her. “We can feel you reaching out to us. You’re strong for a human esper.”
Kirk nodded to the navigator, giving her permission to approach. “Doctor Jones and Ambassador Kollos, this is Chief Marcella DiFalco, one of our navigators.”
DiFalco shook the offered hand with reverence. “It’s an honor to meet you. Both of you.”
“Are you perhaps one of the ‘New Humans’ we’ve heard about?”
The chief flushed. “It’s a pretentious title, I know. Especially in comparison to you. You achieved levels of telepathy in childhood that most of us have only begun to approach in the past few years, since V’Ger awakened our gifts. And what you and Kollos have achieved, that union of selves … our philosophers believe it’s a harbinger of what we’re starting to evolve toward. But we’re still a long way from achieving that kind of collective consciousness.” She hesitated. “If … if you had the time … I and the other espers aboard would love to hear about your experiences as a corporate mind.”
“We would be delighted to, at the right time,” Jones/Kollos told her. “Right now, though, we have a tour to continue and matters to discuss with the captain and Mister Spock.”
DiFalco sobered. “The Aenar. What happened to them … it’s hit everyone hard, but to us, as fellow telepaths …”
Jones’s hands clasped hers. “We understand. The Medusans share that sense of community with the Aenar, and a deep distress and anger at what was done to them. I promise you, we will do everything we can to expose the perpetrators of this atrocity and ensure it never happens again.”
“If anyone can, it’s you, Ambassador—Doctor.” DiFalco smiled at her superior officers. “And the captain and Commander Spock as well. I’m certain we’re in the best of hands.”
* * *
The deck above the sensor monitor station contained little beyond three observation lounges to fore, port, and starboard, each one containing four circular viewports on the sloping underside of the hull, plus the monitor station and backup memory banks for the main computer core. While Kirk showed Jones/Kollos the view from the forward lounge, Spock noted Specialist T’Nalae ascending from below, catching his eye. While the specialist may not have embraced Surak’s teachings, she had been raised on Vulcan just as Spock had, and so he recognized her head gesture indicating a wish to converse. He moved aft into the computer room and beckoned T’Nalae to follow.
“You have a question, Specialist?”
“Was DiFalco right in what she said before?” the tall young woman asked. “That the emergence of human espers is a change triggered by V’Ger?”
“Not ‘triggered,’ ” Spock told her. “Telepathic potential has been known to exist in a small percentage of humans for as long as the means to measure it in their species have been available. Doctor Jones is herself a signal example, predating V’Ger’s arrival by decades.”
“But if an external influence such as V’Ger could amplify the ability, doesn’t that suggest some artificial influence created it in the first place? There has been evidence of earlier alien visitations to Earth, has there not?”
Spock steepled his fingers before him. “To answer your initial question, Specialist, I do not believe that V’Ger’s presence above Earth was responsible for the recent rise in huma
n psionic ability—at least, not in the direct manner that Chief DiFalco postulates. After all, V’Ger’s mental presence was sensed by telepaths on many worlds simultaneously—as I can attest from my personal experience while on Vulcan. And yet no similar increase in psionic ability has been detected in any species besides humanity.”
“The New Humans on the ship believe it had something to do with Commander Decker merging his human consciousness with V’Ger’s, or with the metamorphosis that resulted.”
“I think it more likely,” Spock replied, “that those events merely inspired human espers to seek each other out, enabling them to work together on developing and refining their latent capabilities. However, it is difficult to say for certain. As with the Aenar’s telepathy, the origin and nature of psionic ability in humans is still a mystery to Federation science. Neither species is naturally telepathic, and their brains lack structures akin to the paracortex that enables psi abilities in species such as Vulcans, Deltans, and Denebians.
“Additionally, if a segment of the population had telepathic abilities, it would logically be an evolutionary advantage that would propagate species-wide over time; yet telepaths remain a tiny minority in both humans and Andorians. Granted, there are exceptions—for instance, the paracortex in Arkenites is underdeveloped, so that the metabolic cost of active psionic ability outweighs its evolutionary advantage. And the ancient priestess class of Argelius carefully regulated their breeding to ensure the gift remained exclusively theirs, thus leading to its virtual disappearance in modern times. Yet neither of these applies in the case of humans or Andorians.”
T’Nalae frowned, the show of emotion on her Vulcan features seeming incongruous to Spock. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”
“Granted.”
“You’re not what I expected. I sought a posting on the Enterprise so I could learn from you—a successful Vulcan who had renounced the traditions of repression and logic above all. Who had accepted emotion and found ways to manage it more effectively than most V’tosh ka’tur. Yet now you speak of logic just like any other follower of Surak, and you hide your emotions the same way too. I … do not understand.”
The Higher Frontier Page 3