Out of the Cocoon

by William Leisner

  Tev stroked the hair at his chin pensively as he continued to study the device, as did Corsi and Gomez. Though nowhere near as sophisticated or versatile as the Federation’s transporter-based replicators, the Mariposans’ adaptation of biotechnology to widespread practical usage was impressive nonetheless. The biosynthesizer gen-engineered a variety of simple microorganisms from a template microbe, which in turn produced such products as high-tensile plastics, medicines, and simple high-nutrient paste. Tev was surprised, as Gomez apparently also had been, to find such a complex piece of equipment in a rural residential structure.

  “God help us; we’re in the hands of engineers.” Tev turned toward Brenna Odell, standing by the kitchen table, her large brown eyes flashing in annoyance. “Could y’ tear yourselves away long enough to join the rest of us?”

  Tev grunted, and moved along with Gomez and Corsi to take their seats at the opposite side of the table, along with Abramowitz and the security guards. Granger sat at the far end away from Odell, with two other colonists between them. Granger gestured to them in turn, saying, “May I present our chief of staff, Elizabeth Vallis, and our acting security minister, Reade Latta.”

  Vallis, a pinched-faced woman with short, jet-black hair, nodded silently, while Latta, a short, elderly man in a pea-green jacket that had seen better days (those being the days around the solstice, at a latitude where the sun never rose) grinned and tipped his round felt hat. The last introductions finally out of the way, Granger flashed his practiced smile and said, “First of all, our thanks once again to you for your quick response to our communication.”

  “Of course,” said Gomez.

  “Although, ‘communication’ is something of a misnomer,” Tev added, “as your message did not actually communicate anything.”

  Granger cocked his head to one side. “What wasn’t clear about our message?”

  “The reference to ‘infernal machines’…?” Tev stared across the table at Granger, who stared right back at him.

  “Starfleet officers aren’t much for subtlety,” Odell said, with a hint of a smirk. “They need for things to be spelled out and pushed right in their faces.”

  “You must admit, your message was somewhat vague,” Gomez said. “What machinery, specifically, is the problem?”

  Odell tossed her head in an all-encompassing gesture. “Well, all of it.”

  Tev ground his teeth. “All of it,” he echoed flatly.

  “That sounds rather extreme,” Abramowitz said. “Why would you want to do that? From what little I’ve seen here, it seems you’ve had some real success integrating Mariposan technology into the Bringloidi way of life.”

  “Yes, we have,” Latta said. “We, who understand that the choice is to adapt or to die. Some others—” He looked as if he were about to spit at the mention of “others,” but thankfully refrained. “—they prefer the latter option.”

  Granger leaned forward, arms on the table. “You have to understand…our predecessors left Earth because they wanted to live life by their own terms. Some of them were old enough to remember the incompetence of the New United Nations that led to the Atomic Horrors, so when the European Hegemony and the other regional confederacies started talking world government, they wanted no part of it. They were willing to cut all ties with the rest of humanity rather than go down that route again. So you see…we come from long lines of independent-thinking people.”

  Abramowitz listened to this speech as if enraptured. “And when the two colonies were brought together, forced to make compromises and to deviate from that independent mind-set, that brought a backlash, and gave rise to extremists like the Alliance for Mariposan Primacy.”

  “And others, like the Dieghanists,” said Vallis, with what sounded to Tev like a defensive tone.

  “‘Dieghanists’?”

  “Malcontents,” Latta said, again looking ready to expectorate. “Group of Mariposans who split off on their own about nine years ago.”

  “Separatists from separatists,” Abramowitz muttered, apparently to herself.

  “They style themselves as the last defenders of Neo-Transcendentalism,” Vallis added, “but instead of preaching about life in harmony with Nature, their talk is all of how Nature will take vengeance on the rest of us—storms, floods, quakes…”

  “Plagues.” Gomez exchanged a quick, haunted look with Corsi.

  Tev frowned. “But what realistic threat could an antitechnology extremist group pose?”

  Corsi was the one who answered that question: “Never underestimate extremists, Commander, no matter their philosophy.”

  Tev shrugged. “But none of this explains why you would have us strip the technology from this world.”

  Tev had been looking at Odell, but it was the Mariposan Prime Minister who shot back, “We’ve just had over two hundred of our people slaughtered by this technology! That’s not explanation enough?”

  Tev considered the gray man silently for a long moment. His already long face sagged even lower, and his sad eyes stared back, tired and haunted. Tev understood that it was only natural, following a catastrophic event, to automatically lash out against the most direct cause—in this case, Mariposa’s biotechnology. It now fell to the S.C.E. to help these people work past their instincts, to understand the foolishness of what they were asking.

  He leaned forward and looked deep into the clone’s eyes. “Mr. Granger, your very existence is a product of your technology. If not for your science, you would be nothing but a few scraps of organic molecules in a centuries-old, unmarked grave.”

  “Tev!” Gomez shouted, for some unfathomable reason. But he kept eye contact with the clone, intent on making him understand the scope of what he was telling him.

  “Yes, Commander Tev, that’s absolutely correct,” Granger said softly, his voice carrying a tone of regret. “The Mariposan people do owe our existence to our technology. But that same technology has also sealed our fate. Further cloning is no longer a viable option. In fifty or so years, we’ll be gone, and all that will be left is what we are able to pass on to…our children.” He paused, his eyes flicking to his primary wife, who pointedly did not look back. “But I will be damned if what we leave them is the tools of their destruction.”

  “That’s a rather sweeping condemnation,” said Gomez. “Look at all the positive things you’ve created and accomplished. And the Bringloidi, too, have benefited from Mariposa’s technology in the eleven years you’ve shared this world.”

  Odell fixed the commander with a withering look. “Commander Gomez, my people spent our last five years on Bringloid living in caves. The sun had grown so hot that our crops were literally catching fire in the fields. We slept in dirt, collected water from a trickle of an underground stream, and rationed out what little food we had so thinly that—” She stopped herself, fighting back some clearly painful memories, but offered a composed face when she was ready to speak again. “It was a hellish life, and every day I give thanks that Captain Picard found us when he did. But in all that time, with all that hardship, we were never moved to murder.” She paused, looked to each of the away team members in turn, then said, “Now, you tell me how much we’ve truly benefited from this technology.”

  Gomez had no answer for that, and a thoughtful silence fell over the entire room.

  It was a silence that Tev felt obligated to breach. “You have a biosynthesizer in your home! A home built of temperature-resistant plastiform, with climate control and electrical lighting! You’re growing crops genetically modified to this world, and wearing clothing made of synthetic materials—”

  “Creature comforts cannot compare to human lives,” Odell shot back.

  “And the recent deaths are tragic,” Tev allowed. “But, your population has increased threefold since coming here, and your children have a much higher life expectancy. Are you truly willing to bring the kind of suffering you knew on Bringloid down on them due to your rash decisions?”

  Odell’s mouth drew tight. “Are y
ou quite finished, Mr. Tev?”

  “I believe I’ve made my point of view clear.”

  “And am I to take it you’re not going to help us?” Odell said icily.

  “We’ll have to discuss the matter,” Gomez said, standing and staring hard at Tev. “We’ll take your request under advisement.”

  “Of course,” Tev said, again to humor the commander. “Though I would not anticipate receiving any help in destroying yourselves from Starfleet.”

  “Tev…”

  He had no idea why Gomez was acting so annoyed toward him. He was, after all, only telling these people the truth. “If you are intent on doing so, the Androssi are, perhaps, the ones you should talk to.”

  Gold fixed Tev with a hard glare. “Tell me that you’re joking.”

  The lieutenant commander shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Jokes would not be appropriate here, sir,” he muttered softly.

  “It’s good to know you still have some concept of what’s appropriate,” Gold barked back at him. Tev had pulled more than his share of boneheaded moves over the past several months, but suggesting to the insulated, unknowing colony that they openly invite in the dangerous, mendacious, technology scavengers took the cake.

  Not that he much liked anything else he’d heard in this debriefing. He moved his glare from Tev to Gomez on one side of the conference table, then to Corsi and Abramowitz on the other. “So, in summary,” he sighed, “you met with these people, sat in their home, listened to their plea for help, and then told them to go to hell.”

  “Sir, not that this excuses the way we handled matters,” Gomez said, dipping her head to indicate that by “we,” she was accepting equal responsibility for the actions of the individuals under her command, “but the Ficus leaders were not very receptive to us or the concerns we raised. It seems to me they came to a very vague decision in an emergency situation, with no practical understanding of what that decision involves, and now are unwilling to step back and think through the implications of that decision.”

  “Commander,” Corsi said as she leaned forward in her seat, “they’ve just been subjected to a genocidal attack. You can hardly blame them if they’re not ready to step back just yet.”

  “No, I understand,” Gomez replied, her dark eyes conveying genuine empathy. “But when they insist that we need to remove all their modern technology, how are we supposed to respond to that?”

  “By doing it.”

  Tev looked at Carol Abramowitz, who up until now had not said a single word, with his mouth agape. “What? Are you honestly suggesting…That’s absurd!”

  “Why?” she shot back, her large dark eyes challenging him. “What reason do you have to overrule a decision by the legitimate leaders of this colony?”

  Tev, to his credit (as well as to everyone else’s surprise) had no immediate response. Gold couldn’t help but let a corner of his mouth twitch upward. For all his self-aggrandizing arrogance, Mor glasch Tev was still a Starfleet officer, and as such, he recognized his obligation to respect other cultures and their right to self-determination. After a moment’s reflection, he said, “I concur with Commander Gomez—these people have not thought matters through properly. We would do this colony more harm than good by simply acquiescing to Odell and Granger’s request.”

  “And on what do you base that determination? A few decade-old reports, and a ten-minute meeting where you were dismissing Odell’s position before she’d even gotten a chance to explain it?” Carol Abramowitz shook her head adamantly. “The Bringloidi managed for over two centuries without advanced technology, while the Mariposans were slowly killing themselves with theirs. Now, how can you sit there and say the Bringloidi philosophy would be more harmful?”

  Tev narrowed his black eyes at the cultural specialist, getting ready to rise to her bait, before Gold put up both hands. “All right, Abramowitz, your point is well taken.” Tev snorted at that, but it only took a sideways glance from Gomez to remind him of how much trouble his mouth had already gotten him into. Gold then focused on his security chief. “What’s your take, Corsi?”

  Corsi furrowed her brow and pressed her lips into a flat line. “These people are scared, Captain. They’ve just been through a catastrophic event, with hundreds killed in the span of a few hours. And scared people tend to do stupid and dangerous things. That’s what we have to address.”

  “What do you suggest?” Gomez asked.

  Corsi looked across the table, meeting the eyes of both S.C.E. officers. “These biosynthesizers they have all over the place are what concern me. I know I’d feel better if I didn’t have to worry if the guy next door was brewing up a big tank of Telurian Plague.”

  Tev snorted derisively. “Those units are programmed to produce only a small catalogue of beneficial microorganisms, requiring only relatively minimal gene splices. It would be impossible to create such an exotic pathogen.”

  “Then some nonexotic pathogen.” Corsi’s cool blue eyes flared in irritation at Tev’s dismissive tone. “Some souped-up version of dysentery or streptococcus, or something to infect their crops and bring on a famine. You can’t tell me, with the wealth of gen-engineering expertise on this world, that someone couldn’t find a very simple and very dangerous way to reprogram these machines and cause no small amount of chaos.”

  Tev hesitated before admitting, “There is that potential, yes. But,” he quickly added, “there is the greater potential for harm in disrupting these people’s way of life.”

  “Oh, and we can’t have that, can we?” Abramowitz’s tone dripped with sarcasm. “This society has known nothing but disruption and change for the past decade. It’ll take at least another full generation of further integration and adaptation before there will be any kind of stability in need of preserving.”

  No one said a word, or seemingly even drew a breath for several long seconds. When Carol Abramowitz had first joined the da Vinci, she had been extremely soft-spoken and emotionally reserved, to the point where Gold sometimes worried she was bottling up too much inside her. There’d been a gradual change over the last few months, particularly following her brush with death on Teneb. Now perhaps, Gold considered, she had swung a bit too far to the other end of the scale.

  Finally, he broke the silence. “Corsi, you’ll come up with a plan for how to best deal with this situation. I suggest, too, you coordinate everything through Acting Minister Latta. And Tev…” He paused, forcing the Tellarite to take a good, long look into his eyes. “We’ll talk later.”

  With that, the meeting was over. All five stood up, but as the staff turned for the door, Gold put an arm out, catching Abramowitz by the elbow. She hung back until the rest had exited and she and the captain were alone. “Is there something more on your mind, Abramowitz?”

  Abramowitz pressed her dark eyes shut for a moment. “I’m sorry, Captain. It’s just…this is very nearly a textbook case of why Starfleet should have a Prime Directive.”

  “I get the strange feeling we’ve had this conversation before,” Gold cracked. It was only a few weeks ago—in this same room, in fact—that the two of them debated Starfleet’s noninterference policies in advance of Abramowitz’s mission on Coroticus III. “Though, this isn’t a Prime Directive issue. These are humans who came here from Earth in warp-powered ships.”

  “With all due respect, sir, that’s a ridiculous distinction. Why should human cultures be fair game when it comes to being destroyed? Especially when they left Earth specifically to avoid that very fate?”

  The captain frowned. “You’re exaggerating, Abramowitz.” The sense of déjà vu struck him again.

  Abramowitz met the captain’s eyes with her own, her expression one of absolute earnestness. “No, sir, I’m afraid I’m not. Both cultures have been splintered, apparently to the point where neither a Bringloidi nor a Mariposan culture can be expected to survive. And there’s no guarantee that any hybridized culture has any better chance of survival, either.”

  Gold didn’t say anything fo
r a long time, reflecting on how far and how long the effects of a captain’s decision, no matter how well considered, could reverberate. “The situation on the planet…it’s that grave?”

  Abramowitz took a deep breath. “Like I said, it’ll be at least a full generation before we can tell how things on this joint colony will take shape. And those will be the roughest couple of decades these people ever see—hopefully not as bad as what’s happened here in the past two days, but it’ll only take a small spark to set off this tinderbox again.” She sighed and slowly shook her head. “Needless to say, this is not a job for the S.C.E.”

  “No,” Gold agreed. “What do you suggest?”

  “First, we have to understand exactly what happened down there, so we can address the root cause. Who all these political players are, who launched that biological attack, who was targeted, and why. It bothers me, too, that we have a weapon that targeted only Mariposans, which presumably would have been developed by a Mariposan scientist.”

  That counterintuitive fact had been bothering Gold as well. “Lense’s research, I’m certain, will help point us to some of those answers. What else?”

  “Well, I know Starfleet is still spread thin, and that after the way these people welcomed the Tubman—”

  Gold held up a hand to stop her. “I will tell Captain Scott in the strongest possible terms that Mariposa has to come up on the priorities list.” While much of Starfleet’s resources were indeed committed to the seemingly unending postwar recovery, news of the hostilities on Mariposa would bring in the experts of the Diplomatic Corps. He’d just have to remember to specifically ask that Gabriel Marshall not be given the assignment.

  “And,” Abramowitz continued, “if we do nothing else for these people…”

  “What?” Gold asked.

  “Please, do not let Tev go back down there.”

  Chapter

  6

  One of Elizabeth Lense’s favorite pastimes as a young girl was solving hidden picture puzzles. The earliest ones were simple line drawings, usually of some natural setting, a field or a forest, and among the outlines of leaves and grass blades were incongruous objects like fish or sehlats. As she grew older, the puzzles grew more complex, yet she would master each new collection her father brought her in short order. Naturally, that had led her to her interest in real world puzzles, in general sciences, and then eventually in medicine.