“Captain,” Spock said weakly. “If you will just allow me a minute…”
“Not necessary, Mr. Spock. As you were.”
“It is my duty to assist you—”
“You already have.”
Spock raised an eyebrow questioningly. McCoy and M’Benga turned to face Kirk as well, their expressions equally curious.
Kirk smiled. “I value your presence on the bridge, Mr. Spock. I want you back at your post as soon as possible. But right now…” He tapped his own head. “I got this one.”
Then he sprinted for the door. When he reached it, he stopped, turned back briefly.
“Oh, and Mr. Spock…when you’re better, perhaps we can have a bit of a discussion about Phase Two. Is it a necessary precursor to Kolinahr, or are there other paths?”
Spock’s eyebrow rose again, higher than Kirk had ever seen it before.
“Jim,” McCoy said, “if you’re turnin’ Vulcan on me, let me know so I can transfer to another ship.”
The deck shook again, and Kirk ran for the turbolift.
All around him, in the corridor, red-alert lights flashed. Men and women in life-support suits hurried by. Intercoms crackled with urgent orders. Whole decks were being evacuated, and emergency protocols enacted on the warp core. Four hundred thirty officers and crew scrambled to perform their duties, not knowing if they’d live to see another day.
But despite the chaos, Kirk smiled.
This battle, he knew, was already won.
As Others See Us
Christopher L. Bennett
Christopher L. Bennett
Christopher L. Bennett has been keeping pretty busy lately. In addition to “As Others See Us” and the recent X-Men: Watchers on the Walls, his current projects include Star Trek: Mere Anarchy, Book Four: The Darkness Drops Again, a Spider-Man novel, a Star Trek: The Lost Era novel, a Star Trek: Corps of Engineers e-book, and a recently completed original science fiction novel he hopes to sell soon. This is in addition to the critically acclaimed novels Star Trek: Ex Machina and Star Trek Titan: Orion’s Hounds, stories in the anthologies Star Trek: Deep Space Nine—Prophecy and Change and Star Trek: Voyager—Distant Shores, and the e-book Star Trek: S.C.E. #29: Aftermath (soon to be reprinted in a trade paperback of the same name). One of these days, he may actually get his name on a book that doesn’t have any colons in the title. More information, original fiction, and cat pictures can be found at http://home.fuse.net/ChristopherLBennett/.
Deyin Kaiyel-Ned stood at the prow of the good ship Enai-ra as it steamed boldly forward, leading her merchant fleet into waters where no Yemai had sailed before. She liked to be at the forefront, literally as well as figuratively—to be the very first civilized being to pass into these strange new realms. If there was arrogance to that, she had earned it, winning her admiral’s rank with the same ambition and ingenuity that had driven her foremothers, and others like them, to master the power of steam and use it to expand Yemai influence across the formerly untamed reaches of the globe.
To be sure, Deyin’s main objective, like that of her crew, was the wealth that could be found in the great unknown. Distant lands teemed with exotica that the wealthy classes of Yemai would pay a queen’s ransom for—from spices and fabrics to intoxicants and slaves. This had always been so. Now, though, the rise of capitalism created even more incentive for exploring distant lands, in search of new resources to build industries upon, new farmlands to feed the growing mass of workers, and new markets of backward, exploitable natives who would sell their own children in exchange for simple tools, guns, or medicines.
This fleet’s destination, the Ilaiyen Archipelago, promised to be particularly lucrative, if the legends and rumors were borne out. Those few travelers who had returned from Ilaiyen—or claimed to have been there—told of an incredibly lush and fertile land possessing miraculous powers of healing and rejuvenation. Even if the tales were pure fiction, as Deyin suspected, the people back home would shell out fortunes for Ilaiyen goods anyway, and Deyin would not feel the least bit compelled to dissuade their wishful thinking. And the simple, gentle fisherfolk described by the travelers, with their primitive huts and dugout canoes, would no doubt be just as easily persuaded to give up their resources and their secrets in exchange for a few shiny baubles and displays of industrial-age magic.
But to Deyin, the material prize was only part of it. She found excitement in the exploration itself—discovering exotic lands untouched by civilization, marveling at the bizarre forms that plants, animals, and people mutated into under the influence of alien climes. Being the first to see something never before seen, to battle monstrous new beasts and bring back their corpses to the Imperial Museum. The first to teach an innocent tribe of the world beyond their shores. The first to observe their strange customs and superstitions, and the first to show them the error of their ways.
And if those natives should happen to resist enlightenment, or to be recalcitrant in agreeing to her entirely reasonable trade policies (for of course it was only reasonable that the Yemai Empire, with its greater needs, should benefit more from the trade than a bunch of simple villagers), then the resulting combat provided yet another form of excitement. It kept her crew sharp for battling the fleets of rival powers, seeking to make their own trade deals at Yemai expense. Deyin relished those contests as well, for they let her exercise strategy and cunning against worthy foes.
All in all, this was the greatest life any soul could hope for. Deyin could not imagine any grander adventure.
Someone was watching her, she realized. Turning slightly, she saw in her peripheral vision that it was Jeyam Tybris-Kir, one of the fresh recruits who had come aboard at Reihairem. He and the four who’d boarded with him were an odd bunch—all of them atypically small, and not very strong, save for Seyar Mandas-Pok, the quiet, cool one who always kept his headscarf pulled down over his ears. Their brows and nasal crests were oddly immobile, making it hard to read their expressions sometimes. There was only one woman in the group, and she was oddly deferential to the males, particularly Jeyam. Deyin figured that despite their Yemai names, they must be from some exotic land whose people had not yet been fully civilized. Reihairem was the most remote Yemai port, only a few days’ travel from the archipelago they sought. It certainly had its share of outlanders. (Perhaps this bunch had even changed their names in order to assimilate. A few times, Deyin had heard Jeyam’s friends pronounce his name oddly, closer to “Jyim.”)
Not that they weren’t a useful bunch. The older one, Leyan Ardem-Koi, was a skilled physician, and Seyar seemed knowledgeable in all sorts of things. The others may not have had much physical strength, but they were disciplined and worked hard. Yet there was a fire lacking in them. They didn’t seem to share the rest of the crew’s eagerness to acquire wealth or battle savages. If anything, while the rest of the crew looked outward and forward toward the next conquest, these five seemed more interested in watching the crew itself. The woman in particular, Teyar Risar-Gan, reminded her of a naturalist studying a newly discovered tribe, except it was Yemai sailors that she was studying.
“May I help you with something, Seaman Jeyam?” she asked, without turning more than necessary to make sure her words reached his ears.
“No, thank you.” Though he was soft-spoken, there was a commanding tone in his voice. She didn’t like that.
“Then you should get back to your duties.”
“I’ve finished my tasks, Admiral.”
Skeptical, she turned to face him. “So quickly?”
“I’ve…had some experience with ships.”
“Then ask the captain to assign you a new chore.”
“I did. She said I’d earned a rest.”
“And you choose to take it here? With our speed blowing sea spray into your face?”
He smiled. “You seem to enjoy it.”
“I was born with the spray in my face. But I wouldn’t have thought a scrawny thing like you would tolerate it well.”
“I can handle a little speed.”
“You couldn’t handle me,” she told him, getting to the point. “If I want a tryst, I have my pick of much worthier males. You should set your sights lower. Your comrade Teyar, perhaps.”
“That’s…not really an option. Besides,” and he gave her that annoying smile again, “I enjoy a challenge.”
“I’d believe that if you showed more enthusiasm for our mission. Have you no ambition to bring back wealth and glory and tales of triumph? Or are your people too dainty to handle the combat that may lie ahead?”
“We can handle ourselves, if we have to,” he told her, sounding supremely confident. “But we signed onto your ship…because we want to explore. To learn about new peoples, how they live, how they think.”
“Really. And what will you do with that knowledge?”
He shrugged. “It’s for other people to determine whether it has any practical use. For myself, I simply…wonder in it.”
Deyin stared at him. She was beginning to realize that this man might be a kindred spirit, someone who could understand her love of exploration and adventure.
And that made him even more annoying.
“Go find something else to do,” she told him. “That’s an order.”
But Jeyam no longer seemed to be listening. He was staring intently at something up ahead. Deyin cast a glance in that direction but could make out nothing save the horizon, made misty by the dense intervening air.
But a moment later, the signal bell began to ring. Deyin’s eyes rose sharply to the sky, homing in on the large kite that soared above the ship, attached to it by a strong cable. The kiteman was flashing his signal mirror in one hand while he pulled the bell cord with the other. He had spotted land at last. According to his heliographic code, the land was a chain of islands that matched the likely parameters of Ilaiyen, as correlated from the mariners’ tales. The location was right, too.
Deyin rushed to the wheelhouse, ordering the captain to change course and signal the fleet to follow. “Is this it at last?” Nohin Yiamed-Ba asked, skepticism and excitement warring on her face.
“I assume nothing, Captain. But I’m optimistic. Make ready as though it is, in any case. We must present the proper first impression.”
“Aye, Admiral.”
Deyin turned and was surprised to see that Jeyam had followed her into the wheelhouse. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugged. “You ordered me to find something to do—I came to see what needed to be done. May I ask…what kind of impression are we trying to present?”
With the thrill of impending landfall, Deyin decided she was in a generous mood, so she indulged him. “The people there—whether Ilaiyenai or just some random tribe—will be simple, primitive folk. We don’t want to spook them by coming on too strong. We go in with just the Enai-ra at first. We present ourselves as simply a small group of traders, and show them just enough of our technology to spark their curiosity, not enough to alarm them. We say nothing at first about our long-term commercial intentions.”
“Then why present ourselves as traders at all?”
She looked askance at the poor naïve thing. “Trade is the universal language, lad. If some odd-looking, gibberish-speaking savage came ashore in the imperial city, people would run screaming for the police, having no idea of her intentions. But if she then went to the market square and began to haggle, suddenly people would be at ease, for then they would understand how to relate to her.”
She smirked. “After all, what else do we have in common with these half-naked primitives? Would we want to meet them at all if they had nothing to offer us?”
“They offer us knowledge. The opportunity to see something new, to study a unique way of life.”
“True…there is that. But even that is precious wealth to the naturalists. Especially since that way of life won’t last for much longer.”
Jeyam seemed saddened by her words. “Isn’t there some way it can be allowed to?”
“You would condemn these people to eternal backwardness? Deny them the chance to catch up with the rest of the world? Just for the sake of scientific curiosity?”
“I…just think people should have the chance to make their own decisions.”
“So do I,” she said, “once they’re educated enough to make valid ones.” She was growing tired of this discussion. “You came to find something to do, so go ask Captain Nohin. Stop bothering me with your incessant questions.”
He seemed on the verge of speaking, but restrained himself and nodded. “Aye, Admiral,” he said, and went to consult with the captain.
Good, she thought. Jeyam’s point of view convinced her further that he must be from some backward people himself, only recently civilized and still clinging to a romantic view of the past. She didn’t have time for such antiquated thinking. Especially not when his naïve beliefs could jeopardize this contact. Deyin decided she’d have to keep a close eye on this man.
Soon enough, the Enai-ra was sailing into a large, idyllic lagoon, protected from the wind by gently sloping mountains whose sides practically glowed with vivid blue-green forests. Clear waves caressed a wide, sandy beach, inland of which was a large cluster of huts woven from the native plants. The village extended back to the edge of the tropical forest behind it, almost seeming to merge with it, like a natural extension. Grass-skirted islanders looked up with excitement and surprise as the steamship lumbered toward their shore, running to the huts to rouse their fellow villagers, but they showed more curiosity than fear or hostility. Soon, parties of men with female leaders began boarding dugouts and paddling out to meet the ship.
“Look at it,” James Kirk said as he surveyed the scene before him. “It’s paradise.”
“Enjoy it while it lasts,” replied Leonard McCoy, scratching at his nose. Of all the members of the landing party, he’d had the most trouble following his own advice to leave the facial prosthetics alone, so as not to damage the illusion that they were natives to Sigma Niobe II. At a glare from Kirk, he subsided. “Even if these turn out not to be the Ilaiyens,” and typically he mangled the pronunciation, “the Yemai will find some way to exploit the life out of them.”
Kirk shook his head. “I wish I could’ve gotten through to Deyin. She’s not so bad. She’s an explorer at heart. But she’s a product of her time, her culture.”
“A culture that it is not our place to judge,” Spock said from Kirk’s other side. “Or to attempt to modify.”
“I know, I know.” They had been having this same argument ever since Kirk, learning of this expedition during their survey of the city of Reihairem, had impulsively signed up his landing party as relief crew members. Spock had questioned whether his intention was simply to observe or to try to intervene, and had reminded Kirk that the expedition itself was an object lesson in the need for the Prime Directive, the arrogance of attempting to impose one’s own judgments on another culture. But Kirk had questioned whether it was in the spirit of the noninterference directive to stand by while others violated it on an intraplanetary scale.
“I just hate having to stand by and watch this happen,” he said after a moment.
Theresa Errgang, the lieutenant from Archaeology and Anthropology, tilted her black-haired head in puzzlement. “If I may ask, sir…then why did you bring us along to do just that?”
He smirked. “I guess I’m just a glutton for punishment.” Errgang furrowed her brow thoughtfully. She was a good A & A officer, very perceptive and widely studied, and her tall, athletic stature made her useful for blending in on this high-gravity world, as well as an interesting sparring partner back in the Enterprise gym. But she had a certain bookish naïveté and not much of a sense of humor.
She was useful, though, in observing the interaction between the Yemai and the islanders as they tentatively initiated contact. Captain Yiamed-Ba (or rather, Captain Nohin—Kirk was still getting used to these naming conventions) and a band of seamen debarked in a small launch to meet the canoe pa
rty on their own level and, according to Errgang, began addressing them in various regional languages in hopes of finding one they knew. The universal translator rendered it all in English to Kirk’s ear, but Errgang seemed to have a knack—perhaps by virtue of her training—to listen to both the translation and the original speech behind it at the same time.
Soon the Yemai captain found a dialect that the islanders were conversant in, and confirmed that they were indeed the Ilaiyenai (though their own, un-Yemaicized pronunciation of the name was somewhat different). A ripple of enthusiasm went through the crew members observing from the Enai-ra’s deck, but Deyin shushed them, not wishing to give too much away.
Out in the lagoon, Nohin was beginning her sales pitch. “We come to trade,” she told the Ilaiyenai, and had her crewmen hold up various trade items, including elaborately woven cloth from Yemai’s textile mills, small telescopes, mechanical lighters, and other such minor technical marvels that they expected the Ilaiyenai to perceive as magic. The islanders were amused, but took the devices surprisingly in stride.
“There is more,” Nohin told them, offering them a taste of AyemSud wine (well, something analogous to wine, although nonperishable and able to withstand long sea voyages unrefrigerated). The islanders nodded in appreciation of the flavor but were not as awed as the Yemai had hoped. “Either these folks are incredibly jaded,” McCoy said, “or they’ve got the best poker faces in the galaxy.” Ever since he’d tasted the wine, he’d been trying to connive a way to get as much of it beamed to the ship as he could without violating the Prime Directive.
Nohin’s spiel was starting to grow shakier. “There is more to offer, if we may come ashore and meet your leaders,” she ventured. “We have medicines to heal the sick. They do wonders.”
The chief negotiator shook her head. “We have no sick,” she said.
Again, the Enai-ra crew reacted with eagerness. The assertion seemed to confirm the legends about this place. “Caution,” Deyin told them. “It may be just a negotiating ploy.”
Constellations Page 19