Enterprise By the Book

by Dean Wesley Smith

  Phlox didn’t seem bothered by the odor. He waited calmly, as if standing in a stench worse than ten thousand garbage dumps was normal for him.

  Hoshi and T’Pol were working behind a nearby wall. They were putting the finishing touches on their own device. Theoretically, the device would change spoken words into psionic energy that the alien could understand. However, they were fairly certain it would be broadcasting only gibberish at first to the alien, which, T’Pol had said calmly, “Would be a problem.”

  Sometimes Vulcans were so prone to understatement. Archer had to keep an alien who had been knocked out calm when it woke up, then talk enough gibberish to it so that it would try to communicate back enough for the device to figure out how to translate.

  Archer didn’t give the entire thing much of a chance of success, but there didn’t seem to be any other option short of just packing up and heading to the next star.

  He wasn’t ready to do that. Not yet. The last thing he wanted was for his first two attempts at first contact to end in failure.

  Part of it was pride; part of it was that he didn’t want T’Pol to report the failure to Vulcan; but the main part was sheer stubbornness. He was facing a puzzle and he was going to solve it.

  To try to speed the communication learning process, Hoshi had hooked up the computer’s main translator functions to it. She and T’Pol would be making computer adjustments from a safe distance while Archer tried to speak with the alien.

  With a little time and patience on both his part and the alien’s part, Hoshi assured him they should be able to develop a translation program that would allow him to communicate with the alien, Archer verbally, the alien telepathically.

  Should. If. Maybe. Might. There were just too many words like that associated with aspects of this idea. Archer liked to have a few more assurances.

  “We’re ready,” Trip said.

  “Ensign,” Archer said to Hoshi, “how’s our translation device?”

  She peeked around the corner, even though she had been instructed not to. “I think it’s ready.”

  “How about a stronger vote of confidence than that?” Archer said.

  “Well,” she said, “I do think it’s ready, but we won’t know until we’ve tried it.”

  Archer resisted the urge to shake his head. He wanted a bit more confidence than that—and to get it, he was going to ask a Vulcan. He could barely believe that either.

  “T’Pol, will our device work?”

  “It will work,” she said from behind the wall. He couldn’t see her, but he could imagine her there, standing tall, her face serious. “Whether or not it will work as we want it to is another matter entirely.”

  So much for the vote of confidence.

  “We can call this off,” Trip said.

  “And do what?” Archer asked. “Have you figured out another way to test these devices?”

  “No,” Trip said. “Unfortunately, they have to be tested in the field.”

  “Well, then.” Archer centered himself behind the two poles. “Let’s begin.”

  Trip gave him an uncomfortable look. Hoshi slipped behind the wall, as she had been instructed to do. Dr. Phlox frowned just enough to make his elaborate eyebrows angle against his forehead ridges.

  No one moved.

  “Trip,” Archer said, “I believe the first step is yours.”

  “Right.” Trip flipped a switch on the side of one post. Something hummed. The post trembled, flared with light, and then vibrated slightly. After a moment, the other post trembled, flared, and vibrated too.

  Archer thought he saw a shimmer between the posts—long and thin, like a heat mirage on a desert road—and then the shimmer vanished.

  Trip did a quick check, and then nodded. “Stay centered behind it, and you should be fine.”

  Trip meant that Archer should remain in the center of the two poles and stand behind them, but telling him to stay centered was good advice for his emotions as well.

  “Will do,” Archer said. Through the two poles, he could see the still-unconscious alien. It was on its back, its legs flopped to the side. After some deliberation, Phlox had placed it in that position so that it couldn’t move quickly should something go wrong.

  Archer hoped that these aliens, like turtles, had trouble righting themselves after landing on their backs.

  “Okay, Dr. Phlox,” Archer said. “I think the next point goes to you.”

  Phlox ran a scanner over the alien as a final precaution. Archer glanced over his shoulder. He could barely see Reed’s guards, rifles in hand, waiting to fire if the alien tried to escape.

  Phlox moved his scanner to one hand. With the other, he injected the alien, then scampered out of the way. “Captain, give it a few minutes to come up. It might be a little groggy at first.”

  “I hope not too groggy,” Archer said. “I need to convince it to stay where it’s at.”

  Phlox made his way beside Archer, still scanning. “The stimulant is working. It will be away shortly.”

  “All right,” Archer said. “Shortly or longly, I think it’s time for you to get out of here.”

  “I could stand beside you and monitor—”

  “We had this discussion,” Archer said. “No. I need your expertise should something go wrong.”

  Phlox’s oddly colored eyes studied him. Phlox didn’t seem confident with this plan at all. “All right,” he said. “Good luck.”

  With that he turned and moved down the hall and around the corner out of sight.

  Archer was about to check with T’Pol when the intercom fluttered to life. They had decided to use it to communicate with the hallway, although no one had done so until now.

  “The translator device is on and working,” T’Pol said through the intercom. “So far no psionic energy readings.”

  “Thank you,” Archer said.

  Trip did one more quick check of the shield, gave Archer a thumbs-up, and moved off, leaving Archer alone with the spiderlike alien.

  He squared his shoulders. This was like piloting a test craft. The pilots who believed something could go wrong often triggered that something. Those who had incredible confidence in their own ability and luck usually did fine, even if something did go wrong.

  A thousand things could go wrong, but even more could go right. And if this went right, Earth would have its own first contact, a new culture from which to learn, trade, and understand.

  Excitement shivered down Archer’s spine. He clasped his hands behind his back as T’Pol often did, and waited.

  A few of the alien’s legs were twitching. It was coming round.

  He held his breath. He felt as giddy as a kid.

  More twitches. Then something underneath the carapace moved—the eyes? The mouth? He wasn’t sure.

  “I’d start speaking to it now, Captain,” Hoshi said over the intercom.

  “Hi,” Archer said, not moving or smiling or doing anything that any culture might consider threatening. He had no idea what to say to a groggy, telepathic alien that he had kidnapped.

  “Good start, Captain,” Hoshi said, “but I think you might need to pretty much talk straight at it for a minute.”

  Right. He had known that. He had just forgotten that for a moment. All these rules about talking to aliens. With the Fazi, it was don’t speak until spoken to. Now it was talk until the creature in front of him could understand.

  “My name is Captain Jonathan Archer,” he said.

  The alien’s clawlike feet all touched the ground.

  “You’re on board our ship Enterprise.”

  The alien remained rigid for a moment.

  “I’m sure sorry for bringing you up here.”

  In a feat that Archer wasn’t sure he would ever be able to explain, the alien lifted its carapace off the floor, then flipped itself over, as if it were in a circus, doing acrobatics.

  Archer resisted the urge to back away. He kept his voice neutral. “Bringing you here was an accident. It was never meant
to happen.”

  If that thing charged at him now, he was done for. It could get through the energy barrier as easily as he could rip through paper.

  “You got caught in our transporter beam.”

  The alien seemed to be staring first at him, then at the small box where Archer’s voice was being turned into psionic waves.

  Archer decided to stop rambling and try to really communicate. He pointed at himself. “Human.”

  The alien’s entire body dipped slightly. “Hipon.”

  The digital voice had an androgynous quality, which seemed to suit the alien, since they still hadn’t been able to figure out its gender.

  Archer wanted to make certain he understood. He pointed at the alien. “Hipon.” Then he pointed at himself. “Human.”

  “Yes,” the machine said.

  Archer felt the tension in his shoulders lessen slightly. “I am the captain of this ship,” he said, motioning first at himself, then around him.

  “Captain,” the alien said through the machine. “No need—to go—through—the basics. Your translation device is—functioning. An amazing device, but I—am not sure why—it is needed.”

  Archer could hear the cheering coming from down the hall and through the com link. With each word the translator seemed to be picking up speed and clearness.

  “This is a psionic shield,” Archer said, pointing to the posts on either side of him, “designed to block the wavelengths of your thought patterns from my mind.”

  The alien scuttled closer to it. Archer resisted the urge to move away. The alien appeared to be studying the poles. With one of its front legs, it reached toward the shield, but didn’t touch the area in the middle.

  A puddle of slime dotted the floor where the alien had been on its back. The stench, though, seemed to be receding. Maybe the smell had a defensive purpose, designed to keep away land-based predators when the alien slept.

  When this was all over, Archer would have to ask Cutler about that.

  The alien continued to inspect the shield. After a moment, it scuttled backward. It moved amazingly fast for something so tall and bulky.

  “Why—is the device—needed?” the alien asked again.

  “Because,” Archer said, “the energy in your thoughts is dangerous to my kind.”

  The alien scuttled even farther backward and bumped against the wall. For a moment, Archer wondered if it was hurt. Then it bobbed slightly.

  “The crewman—who landed?” the alien asked. “And the other—two?”

  The reaction had been shock and concern. Archer felt a pleasant shock of surprise.

  “They are alive and recovering,” Archer said.

  “They were—damaged?”

  So he had interpreted the reaction correctly.

  “Yes,” Archer said. “But they will be all right.”

  The alien bobbled as if it were still in the water. It didn’t speak for a long time, and Archer wondered if he should fill the silence. He still felt somewhat burned for his encounter with the Fazi.

  “We had—no wish—to harm,” the alien said.

  “We know that,” Archer said, relieved that the alien had spoken. “Neither did we. I must apologize for taking you from your homeworld. It was not our intent. We were only trying to rescue our crewman.”

  “It was not our intent—to harm him,” the alien said again. It seemed to be quite distressed.

  “We understand that,” Archer said, thinking that perhaps a different word would make the alien realize that they were not going to retaliate for the harm. “There is no need to apologize.”

  “We tracked your—ship—as it entered the system,” the Hipon said. “We were pleased—when you came—to contact us.”

  “We were not sure how to,” Archer said, not showing he was stunned that they had been tracked coming into this system. Clearly the Hipon were more advanced than they had thought. “It was not until this accident that we began to understand the nature of your form of communication.”

  “And the danger—of it,” the Hipon said.

  “Yes, exactly,” Archer said.

  “Your translation device—is impressive,” the Hipon said. “But I must ask—why you came—to this planet?”

  “We are from the planet Earth,” Archer said. “We are simple explorers, hoping to meet new races and forge friendships.”

  “With the ability—to create this starship—and this communication device—I would not consider—your race simple.”

  “Thank you,” Archer said.

  The alien crossed two of its legs and rubbed them together. Archer braced himself. He wasn’t sure what would happen or what the alien was trying to do.

  Then it bobbled again.

  “Captain—I must do—the proper thing.”

  “All right,” Archer said, not knowing what the proper thing was in this circumstance or even if what was proper for the alien was proper for him.

  “Excuse me—please—Captain.”

  With that the alien seemed to fold up slightly, bringing its legs slightly under its body.

  The intercom rattled as it came on. The sound made Archer jump. He hadn’t expected it.

  “Captain,” T’Pol said, “there is a high psionic energy beam being sent from our ship to the surface of the planet.”

  Archer wished he could see the readings, but he didn’t want to move, didn’t want to startle the alien in any way. “Are any members of the crew in the way of it?”

  “No, sir. It doesn’t appear to be having an effect on the crew,” T’Pol said.

  “What about the ship?” He had visions of the ship itself buckling under the weight of the beam.

  “No, sir.”

  “The shipboard computers?”

  “We could run diagnostics, sir, but so far, we’ve found no problems.”

  The alien hadn’t moved. It seemed oblivious of him, but Archer couldn’t really tell. The creature didn’t have a humanoid face that he could guess at reading.

  “Do you believe we are in any danger from this beam?” Archer asked.

  “No,” T’Pol said.

  “Can you pinpoint where the beam is coming from?” Archer asked, as if he didn’t know. He did. It was coming from the only strong psionic source on the ship—the alien in front of him.

  “Yes, sir. It is coming from the alcove.”

  Archer smiled. “Just as I suspected.”

  He glanced at the motionless alien. So the proper thing had something to do with communication to its planet. He wondered what kind of message the creature was sending.

  He hoped he would find out soon. “Continue monitoring and keep me informed if anything else changes.”

  “Yes, sir,” T’Pol said.

  The alien remained motionless. Archer wondered if the translation device could be moved so that he could eavesdrop on the conversation.

  The intercom thumped again. He would have to have Trip check what was causing that.

  “Sir,” T’Pol said, “the psionic beam to the surface has stopped.”

  At that moment the alien unfolded its legs and stood, facing Captain Archer.

  “Captain—I have joined with—my people—and they have given me permission—to represent the Hipon race—in opening talks with—humans—please accept—our welcome.”

  Archer was stunned. He hadn’t expected that, but he supposed it made sense. He bowed slightly. “We are honored. Thank you.”

  Finally, it looked as if a first contact might just work out as he had hoped.

  And then the intercom interrupted him a third time.

  “Captain,” T’Pol said, “a Fazi representative has just gotten in contact with us. Their desire is to set up another meeting.”

  The Hipon scampered closer to the shield. Archer had to force himself to remain still. He had an instinctual response to get away from giant spiderlike creatures, a response he was going to have to quell if he was going to continue talking with the Hipon.

  “You are attempting—to c
ontact—the Fazi as well?” the Hipon asked.

  “We are,” Archer said.

  “Excuse me—Captain,” the alien said. “I must—again—communicate—with my people.”

  Again the alien brought its legs up under it and seemed to just disappear inside itself.

  Oh, just great. Now the mention of the Fazi had angered the Hipon, just like a mention of the Hipon had angered the Fazi. What was going on with this planet? Archer turned to the com panel behind him on the wall. “Tell the Fazi that I would be glad to speak with them at a time convenient for their leaders.”

  “Understood,” T’Pol said.

  A moment later the alien unfolded its legs and again faced Archer. Archer would have been just as happy if the alien had faced the translator box, but didn’t say anything.

  “Captain—my people do not believe—that extensive contact—with the Fazi—at this time—would be—appropriate.”

  “I have a Vulcan officer that believes the same thing,” Archer said, both surprised and not surprised. There was clearly something going on between these two races.

  “Vulcan?”

  “Another race who are friends of Earth,” Archer said. “More technologically advanced, however. They tend to not let us forget it.”

  He wondered what T’Pol thought of that description.

  “Understood,” the alien said.

  Really? Archer wondered. Did the Hipon understand? Or was that just the translator finding an approximation?

  He shook off the thought. If he went down that road, he would not be able to continue this discussion.

  “Why don’t your people want us to contact the Fazi?” Archer asked.

  The alien bobbled. Archer wondered if it did that when it communicated with its own kind as well or if that was some kind of polite custom, like a bow or a curtsy.

  “Humans—” the Hipon said, “—are more advanced—than the Fazi—as are we.”

  “I understand that,” Archer said.

  “We have followed—the Fazi development—for two thousand—of this planet’s cycles—and fear—they are not ready—for more advanced knowledge.”

  “So your people colonized this planet?” Archer asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And the Fazi are native to it?”