The Latter Fire

by James Swallow

  Inside that oval gas cloud was a small K-type orange star and a system of five planets. Farthest out was Hokaar, a Class-C ball of geoinactive stone and ice; it was overshadowed by its nearest neighbor, a massive double-ringed ultragiant called Yedeen that itself had a small population of shepherd moons and captured asteroids. Much farther in were two worlds in the habitable zone, the Class-M Syhaari Prime and the rocky Class-L planet Gadmuur. Lastly, closest to the star Sya was a heat-cracked sphere of rock that resembled Mercury in Earth’s solar system, a Class-B world called Neliin.

  The system did not present a difficult plot for an experienced helmsman to fly, even though his opposite number on The Friendship Discovered had sent Sulu a complex data packet showing the intricate web of mandated spacelanes the Syhaari used inside their own domain. For the purposes of the Enterprise’s formal arrival, however, they had been given clearance to bypass all of that and take the direct path to Syhaar Prime. Sulu recomputed his standard orbit chart for the alien planet once again, even though he knew it was solid. It wouldn’t do to pull into position over this world and then have to adjust headings like some fresh-off-the-shuttle cadet. This was official business, and everything the Enterprise crew did, down to the smallest detail, would be documented forever in the annals of Syhaari history. It was important to make the best possible showing.

  “Helm.” Sulu turned in his chair as he heard Mister Spock call out to him. “Cross-check your sensor readings with my station.”

  “Aye, sir.” His fingers tapped the glowing keys before him, and Sulu brought up the data Spock was referring to. Becoming more distinct as they closed in on the cloud shell, the Enterprise’s long-range sensors were picking up hazy ghost images of other vessels moving on the far side of the Veil. For a moment, Sulu wondered if the ships were more escort craft, out there to accompany them to the inner worlds, but their flight paths suggested otherwise. The Syhaari ships were moving in what could only be standard geometric sweep patterns.

  He frowned and looked back at the science officer. “I’m seeing the same thing as you, Commander. Multiple spacecraft in motion.”

  “On screen, Mister Sulu.” Spock gave the order, and the helmsman shifted his data to the big display. “Four vessels within our current sensor range,” Spock went on, looking to Captain Kirk. “Engine power curves and radiant output are a match to the Syhaari warp one vessel we encountered many months ago. These craft are of the same class and tonnage as The Explorer Beyond.”

  “Except they don’t appear to be doing any exploring,” Kirk noted, taking in the information.

  “That’s a border patrol, Captain,” said Sulu. “Quadrant by quadrant. I’ll bet there are ships we can’t read yet on the far side of the system flying the exact same pattern.”

  “Are they interested in us?”

  “It would seem not.” Spock shook his head. “I read no deviation from their courses.”

  Kirk tapped a finger on his chin. “Picket ships. That implies a state of military readiness . . . for what?”

  “Maybe they don’t trust us,” offered Lieutenant Uhura.

  “If I may, Captain,” said Arex. “They could be showing the flag. Attempting to impress us once again.”

  “Possible,” agreed Spock.

  Sulu felt a moment of doubt pass through him. Arex’s suggestion didn’t ring true. The helmsman’s experience suggested something else. He knew an alert formation when he saw it. “Or perhaps . . . they’re expecting trouble.”

  The statement hung in the air, and for long seconds, no one answered it. Then a gentle trilling tone sounded from communications, and Uhura pressed a finger to the receiver module in her ear. “Captain, we’re being hailed by the Friendship. Zond reports that a signal has been relayed from the Learned Assembly on their home planet. We are clear to pass through the Veil and continue at warp three to Syhaar Prime.” She paused. “They welcome us warmly as new friends.”

  “Respond with our gratitude, Lieutenant,” Kirk told her. “Helm, maintain present speed and heading. Shields at the ready as we cross the gas cloud; we don’t know what effect it might have on the ship.”

  “Aye, sir,” Sulu responded, entering the command. “Steady as she goes.” The viewscreen switched back to exterior sensor input, and the majestic starscape was now replaced by a glittering, misty wall of gray fog as the Enterprise approached the Veil.

  “Friends.” Arex said the word quietly, so only Sulu heard him. “With all those ships out there, I speculate how warmly the Syhaari would greet those they considered otherwise.”

  Sulu said nothing, carefully guiding the starship into the depthless haze.

  * * *

  The last stage of the journey passed swiftly, although Captain Kirk felt oddly unsettled by the strange sky they encountered once they were inside the gas and dust shell surrounding the Sya system. Instead of the deep, inky black of the interstellar void he had come to consider the working backdrop for his career, the familiar was replaced by a peculiar, cloudy gray the shade of ancient slate. He wondered what it had to have been like for the first Syhaari to see what lay past the Great Veil. His species had evolved on a world where the stars had always been there, their meaning and origins peeled back layer by layer as humankind’s knowledge grew. But to Kaleo’s people, what a shock it must have been to learn that the pocket of space in which they lived, behind the Veil, was a grain of sand against the scale of the true universe. It was a testament to their character that the Syhaari hadn’t simply fled back to the safety of their worlds and hidden there forevermore.

  Sulu placed them in a pitch-perfect orbit over Syhaar Prime, on a transit that would quickly circle the planet, a course that was deliberately designed to carry Enterprise over the major population centers of the green- and amber-hued world. The choice was deliberate, so that anyone down below with a powerful telescope would be able to look up and see the Federation starship with their own eyes, flying in formation with the Syhaari’s most advanced space vessel. A simple but powerful statement.

  Adjourning to the transporter room, Kirk saw Uhura fiddling with her tricorder before they beamed down and noted that the communications officer was switching between digital data channels being broadcast from the surface. “These are Syhaari news feeds,” she told him, noting her captain’s attention. “From what I can tell, the mood of the local population appears to be somewhere between fascinated and guarded.”

  “Any negative interest?” asked McCoy, checking the portable medical kit attached to his uniform.

  Kirk frowned, but Uhura responded anyway. “Some demonstrations in a few outlying locations.”

  “That is to be expected.” Envoy Xuur brushed a speck of lint from the sheer silver dress she wore. “Not everyone welcomes alien contact. Not at first.”

  Kirk’s gaze flicked from Xuur to ch’Sellor at her side. “If you feel we need a security escort . . .”

  Xuur shook her head firmly. “Captain, you, your doctor, science officer, and linguist are sufficient for our initial appearance here. Let’s not make this look like the scouting party for an invasion.”

  He said nothing and turned away. “Mister Scott? You’re in command. You may energize when ready.”

  “Aye, Captain.” Scotty stepped behind the transporter controls and worked the sliders. “On your way . . .”

  * * *

  There was that sudden, peculiar state-change transition—­and then Kirk was standing on another new world. He and the landing party were the first alien beings to breathe Syhaari air, the first to feel the pull of this planet’s gravity. As Kirk’s eyes adjusted to the bright orange sunshine, he was reminded again of what the emissary had said a day or so before. For us, this is another day at the office. For them, a life-changing moment. Kirk promised himself that he would not take a single second of this for granted.

  The air was crisp and sweet, and it tasted of blossom. Looking arou
nd, his first thought was that they hadn’t materialized in a city after all, but instead in some kind of nature preserve. But looking again, Kirk saw that what he had initially thought to be low hills were actually artificial structures, domed complexes covered with carefully manicured lawns and other plant life, some with roofs that were open to the sky. Rising up all around them were wide, sprawling trees that were half Terran banyans, half Izarian cedars, each festooned with thick vines that drooped to the ground or entwined above in a random web. Amid the trees, there were bone-white stone minarets holding up lines for trains of bubble-canopy cable cars. The more Kirk looked, the more he picked out clusters of large organic-looking bulbs, something midway between a giant bird’s nest and a woven hut.

  Up above the landing party, a flock of patient drones floated on spinning impellors, artificial insect-forms pointing recording gear at the new arrivals from space. Kirk lifted a hand in a wave and gave a close-mouthed smile, careful not to show any teeth for fear that might be seen as aggressive.

  “Just remember to look nonthreatening, Spock,” said McCoy. “We don’t want these good people getting the wrong idea about us.”

  “I am confident in my ability to remain passive, Doctor,” replied the Vulcan. “I wonder if you could say the same?”

  “Look sharp,” Kirk admonished as a group of Syhaari approached, climbing the low rise of the grassy hillock where the landing party had materialized. Among them were Kaleo and the engineer Hoyga, as well as several others of their species who wore odd gowns made of scarf-like strips of cloth. Their outfits seemed to have a ceremonial cut to them, and the captain guessed correctly that these beings were the Syhaari equivalents of Xuur and ch’Sellor.

  “Welcome to our planet,” said the tallest of them, an elderly being with silver fur and deep-set eyes. “Gatag is my name. I am a functionary of the Learned Assembly, and it is my honor of honors to speak with you this day.”

  Kirk opened his mouth to reply, but Envoy Xuur swiftly beat him to the punch. “That honor is shared equally by us, sir. On behalf of the United Federation of Planets, we thank you for your hospitality.” The diplomat made quick introductions, and Gatag bowed slightly to each of the landing party in turn—pausing only in amazement at the sight of the blue-skinned Andorian—before ending with his gaze on Kirk.

  “You are the captain of the Enterprise,” said Gatag. “Our brave sister Kaleo speaks highly of you, Kirk from Earth.”

  “She’s very generous,” Kirk deflected. “Like your explorers, I am just a fellow traveler.”

  “Nevertheless, you saved the lives of our precious kindred,” Gatag insisted. “A debt is owed.”

  “Consider it paid, sir,” he replied, “with your offer of friendship. I hope today will mark the beginning of a long association between the Syhaari Gathering and the Federation.”

  That seemed to please the old functionary, and he gave a low grunt of approval. “Come, then. The Assembly awaits you.”

  “A moment . . .” Hoyga stepped forward and gestured sharply to a subordinate carrying a large cube-shaped device with a scanning dish on one face. The other Syhaari moved down the line of the landing party, tracking each of them briefly with the unit.

  “A sensor tool, Captain,” suggested Spock. “A less-advanced version of our own tricorders.”

  “It is required,” Hoyga added. “For safety.”

  “Of course,” Kirk allowed, sharing a look with McCoy. The captain knew his chief medical officer had already made sure the Enterprise crew carried no pathogens hazardous to the Syhaari biosphere, but it didn’t hurt to allow the locals to make their own confirmation of that too.

  When the scan was complete, Hoyga’s cheerless expression did not change. “Clear,” she said.

  Gatag beckoned them toward a waiting cable-line with long fingers. “Come, this way.”

  * * *

  They boarded a glassy capsule as wide as a shuttlecraft and twice as long, and with a clatter of ceramic cogwheels, the transport was gathered up from the grass by spools of cable, rocking gently as it found its way onto one of the many elevated byways crisscrossing the Syhaari cityscape. Only the deck of the capsule was opaque; the rest of the large pod was made of a clear, flexible plastic that deformed slightly when Kirk pressed it with a finger, before springing back into shape.

  The cable car picked up speed and moved over points to a higher route atop the tallest towers, and the captain had to admit that the view was breathtaking. The strange hybrid of metropolis and natural space flowed away in all directions toward the horizon, blending seamlessly into the landscape. He saw a river gorge far below, with buildings cut right into the sheer living rock on either side of the flowing water. Rainbows formed across the span in soft clouds of spray. Other towers, thinner than the cable-car supports, expanded out into spinning windmills with helical, ribbon-shaped sails. Others were crested with what looked like solar panels. He saw little that seemed to be heavy industry to mar the sight.

  “The Syhaari exhibit a fascinating architectural balance with nature,” noted Spock, examining the same view. “Very likely an outgrowth of their status as a civilization late to the impulse to explore space.”

  “Harmony is our watchword,” said Gatag. “This planet birthed us, her sister-worlds gave us resources. We owe it to them to treat their bounty with respect.”

  “A laudable attitude,” said McCoy. “Something it took my people a long time to learn.”

  “Are there many cities like this on Syhaar Prime?” asked Uhura, looking up at the rangy, apelike humanoid.

  “Many?” Gatag’s old face creased in confusion as he processed her question. “Ah, you misunderstand, human. Our conurbation is a single entity that spans the entire planet, a great number of districts connected node to node by the skyways and rivers. Some zones are more sparsely populated by others, but we consider it all to be of one body.”

  “A city bigger than continents . . .” McCoy wondered aloud. “But still in harmony with the natural world? That’s an achievement.”

  “You may see more of it, if you wish to, Doctor,” Kaleo offered. She glanced at Kirk. “Perhaps I could show you the zone where I grew up, Captain?”

  “I’d like that,” said Kirk. The carriage trembled as it switched to another aerial track and began to descend. As it passed behind a broad, mirror-surfaced dome, he caught sight of a huge landing field off in the distance. Great curved gantries of shimmering white extended up into the sky, several of them occupied by the elongated shapes of Syhaari spacecraft. “Your starport?” he asked, turning back to Kaleo.

  She bobbed her head in an approximation of a nod. “Central control for our expeditionary fleet. Beneath it are the yards where the next generation of our ships are already taking shape—”

  “That zone is under closed protocols,” Hoyga said, speaking over her commanding officer, earning a look of censure that the engineer didn’t seem to notice. “For safety reasons.”

  Kirk sensed there was more to be said, but before he could press the point, Envoy Xuur was at his side. “There is so much here to take in,” said the diplomat, smiling politely. “Your world is admirable.”

  Gatag thanked her again as the capsule slowed. Ahead of them, a fluted obelisk rose up—an ornate skyscraper covered in intricate carvings and strange webs of vine that lay like vertical gardens along its flanks. “The Gathering is governed from here,” Gatag explained. “And within, the Assembly welcomes our visitors in the manner of our ancestors, with a feast of communion!”

  Xuur glanced at Kirk and spoke quietly, without breaking her placid smile. “I hope you and your officers brought an appetite.”

  * * *

  There were a dozen more greetings and welcomes and sundry other how-do-you-dos, to the point that McCoy was starting to get dizzy with it. In the space of a few minutes, as the landing party was walked through the great hall of Assembly, he h
ad to have said hello to at least a dozen senior Syhaari officials from all aspects of their administration. He was finding it hard to keep track of who was who, of what each unusual combination of colored scarf and ornamental hair braid meant. McCoy elected to remain close to Spock, knowing that the Vulcan’s keen memory would retain every last element of that information. If he blanked on a face or name, he would rely on Spock to supply it for him.

  They were seated at a long, S-shaped table, on low stools that were not really designed for the less elastic bodies of non-Syhaari, but everyone made do. Gatag announced proudly that the foodstuffs presented before them had all been prepared in accordance with data provided by the Federation Diplomatic Corps on humanoid biochemistry, so it was all perfectly palatable for the Enterprise crew. McCoy had to admit the bowls of succulents, leafy salads, and cooked meats looked and smelled quite appetizing, as did the great urns of steaming teas lining the middle of the table—but caution nagged at him. He wanted to pull up his tricorder and scan the feast, just to be certain, but the steady, cold glare aimed at him from ch’Sellor’s eyes told the doctor that would be a faux pas of the highest order. The Syhaari had made a big deal about not poisoning anyone, and it would be rude to openly challenge that.

  He started carefully, with some warm breads and what looked like olives. Then a kind of fish and a slice of heavy, rich meat. It was surprisingly good, and with his usual diet of shipboard meals coming from the Enterprise’s adequate-if-basic food slots, McCoy found it increasingly tempting to indulge himself.

  The locals didn’t stand on ceremony, so it seemed. They ate and talked, moved from chair to chair along the table. After the stiff formality of all the meet-and-greets, the more relaxed nature of the actual feast was refreshing. McCoy found himself warming to the Syhaari. He sipped at a green tisane brew and listened to Gatag speaking around mouthfuls of fruit.