by Tony Daniel
The minds of these Starfleet officers might provide data, but they did not create understanding. Many new concepts, many unknown perceptions and memories of yet other ideas, were uncovered—concepts and memories entirely new to the Excalbian way of thinking. These people were different. They were difference personified.
A great debate arose, for this conclusion cut at the very foundation of Excalbian existence. For those in the starship passing through the system in warp space, this debate would have seemed to only take five minutes or so.
For the Excalbian mentalities, it went on for “days.”
Finally, a decision was reached. The newcomers were either a figment of the imagination, something like a daydream, or from somewhere “outside” the sphere of Excalbian thought, an occurrence deemed to be impossible by the majority of Excalbians. Most troubling of all was the alien concept of “good” and “evil.” These values implied that a world outside of thought existed and that actions within that world had weight.
Yet most were still convinced it was all a bad dream.
If good and evil proved to have observable consequences—that is, if good and evil mattered beyond being merely playthings of the mind—then humans, Vulcans, Starfleet officers might all be real themselves and might know something that Excalbians did not. The Excalbians might have something to learn from the humanoids.
The Excalbians might even have to look upon them as equals.
“Inconceivable!” declared the majority of the collective. “These are not intelligent beings, but malfunctioning mental processes within ourselves. As such, they ought to be eradicated.”
“But if their reality is ‘inconceivable,’ then you won’t mind if their ideas are tested?” said the minority.
And thus the majority was trapped by its own logic.
* * *
“The test,” said Captain Kirk, leaning back in his chair, “was not so much to determine the difference between good and evil, but to discover whether we were figments of your imagination.”
“You have the truth of it, Captain,” said Washington-Yarnek. “We had to determine whether or not you could surprise us with your actions. You and Mister Spock certainly did. Abraham Lincoln and Surak, as you correctly surmised, were based upon your own ideas of those individuals, and thus were, in a manner of speaking, extensions of yourselves. All four of you—yourselves and the other ‘good’ forces—succeeded in surprising us. Furthermore, you awoke in many of us—such as myself—a very new feeling for having subjected you to this staged play in the first place.”
“What was that?” asked Valek.
Washington-Yarnek frowned and broke eye contact with them. “Guilt, Representative Valek,” he said. “If right and wrong did in actuality exist, then we had been wrong to bully you and to threaten your ship and your crew. I, myself, had acted in an evil manner. And there was a ‘good’ portion within me that was not happy with that fact.”
“The classic fall from the Garden,” Kirk said. “You and your species ate of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil and you didn’t like the taste so much.”
“Captain Kirk is speaking metaphorically,” said Valek. “I do not think he believes there was an actual Garden of Eden in Earth’s prehistory, yet the idea of a fall from an original guiltless state is found throughout human philosophical and religious—”
“I didn’t mean it literally,” Kirk said. “I think Yarnek understands me.”
“I do indeed,” Washington-Yarnek replied. “And you are correct, at least in my case.”
“Be that as it may,” said Kirk, “it still doesn’t explain what you are doing here right now.”
Washington-Yarnek nodded.
“Captain, Representative, do you mind if I have a drink? I find a small dram of rum concentrates my mind.”
“I do not mind,” Valek replied.
“I wouldn’t mind joining you,” Kirk put in.
“I would be delighted if you would,” the Excalbian said. “And you, Representative Valek? It is excellent rum from the Caribbean.”
“If it were real it would be a product of slave labor,” Valek said. “No thank you.”
“It is real enough to do its job,” Washington-Yarnek said. “But I take your point, Representative.”
Washington-Yarnek rose from his chair and went to the small sideboard table that the pipe sat upon. He opened its cabin door and brought out two silver cups and a glass bottle with a golden liquid sloshing about inside. He set the cups on the sideboard tabletop. He took out a glass stopper, then tilted the bottle up and poured himself and Kirk a healthy portion of what looked very much like rum.
And when Kirk took his cup from Washington-Yarnek, he found it smelled and tasted like rum, too. Good rum.
Washington-Yarnek quickly drained his glass in a single swallow. He stood gazing down into the empty cup.
“You look like you could use another,” Kirk said.
“Indeed. Thank you, sir,” replied Washington-Yarnek. He poured out another dram, then returned to his seat, cup in hand. He was a tall man, well over a meter and a half, and possessed a lanky torso matched with shorter legs, which made him seem to be a bit awkward at rest. Yet he moved with a fluid motion and, contrary to Kirk’s expectations, he found Washington-Yarnek to be quite graceful, even suave and debonair in his way.
I do seem to remember learning that he was a great dancer and generally a hit with the ladies, Kirk thought. But I didn’t quite believe it until now.
“The tale of what followed the Enterprise’s departure from Excalbia is a tortuous one, and, in parts, most unpleasant,” Washington-Yarnek began. Then he paused and lifted his cup of rum. “But first, to your health, madam and sir.”
Kirk raised his own cup and returned the gesture. Valek, meanwhile, looked on with an inscrutable expression.
Washington-Yarnek again drained his glass, and continued.
After the Enterprise left Excalbia, the memories of the crew and historical records gleaned from the Enterprise computer were retained in the silicate memory of the planet. In a further series of experiments, various Excalbians were transformed to humaniod species in the same manner as Abraham Lincoln, Surak, and the others had been.
“After we acquired the taste for pitting life against life,” Washington-Yarnek said, “it proved difficult to stop doing so.”
“Regrettable,” Valek said.
“Indeed. We at first believed them to be a harmless indulgence, but instead, these ‘games’ began to consume us,” said Washington-Yarnek. “Although good won out in your play, Captain, the idea of evil proved a very seductive philosophical position for a portion of my species. I was ordered to take part in these plays, to serve as ‘host,’ or ‘referee,’ as you might understand the concept.
“Even then, I had my doubts as to the wisdom of such so-called games. I feared they would be an excuse for callous behavior. I was proven right many times over, but I’m getting ahead of myself.” Washington-Yarnek sighed. “When I refused, I was coerced into taking this form, the form of President George Washington.”
“So you were made to participate in the experiments yourself,” Kirk said. “You’ll pardon me, Yarnek, but we humans have a saying, ‘What goes around, comes around.’ ”
“A sentiment I very much understand, Captain,” the Excalbian replied with a grim set to his mouth. “Yet not only was I given no choice in the matter—as indeed, you were not—but to up the stakes and to add more so-called ‘reality’ to the morality game, I was also stripped of the ability to change back into my original form. The idea was that, if I was killed, I would be truly dead.”
“Barbaric,” Valek said. “Continue.”
“The same process was applied to all of my comrades here on Zeta Gibraltar,” Yarnek continued. “We are all survivors of at least one, and often many, such gladiatorial combats. It would have gone on indefinitely until we were all dead—and thus removed from influencing politics within the collective or affecting its makeup. B
ut, with a measure of luck on my part and a great deal of ingenuity on the part of Mister Watt, Miss Tubman, and others, a group of us were able to escape. The circumstances were extremely trying. My mate-bond—my ‘wife,’ in your terminology—was killed while we fled, her consciousness obliterated.” Washington-Yarnek made a fist around his empty cup. “Her name was Terima. For five hundred years she lived a life of grace, beauty, and thoughtfulness. I miss her wisdom every moment of every day.”
Washington-Yarnek shook his head, and his shoulders slumped.
If he’s feigning his sorrow, Kirk thought, he’s the best actor I’ve ever seen. Which might be true, of course. He is, after all, doing a very convincing job of pretending to be George Washington.
“I now have firsthand acquaintance with the true nature of good and evil,” said Yarnek. “And with loneliness and loss, as well. Terima was a good and noble person. Without my mate-bond, I would not be here today. Others made similar sacrifices. If it were not for them, none of us would have gotten off Excalbia.”
Washington-Yarnek silently contemplated his memories for a moment, and Valek took the opportunity to break in.
“Pardon me, Mister President,” said Valek. “To save time and emotional epiphenomenon, I shall offer to fill in several of the details of what followed.”
Washington-Yarnek sighed, then took a deep breath and nodded, relief in his eyes. “Yes, I would appreciate if you would do so, Representative Valek,” he replied.
“A passing Orion-bound transport experienced a partial core meltdown and strayed within Excalbian space. The escaping Excalbians made use of the matter transmutation abilities of their unaffected accomplices and were transferred to the cargo hold of that ship. Some weeks later, they were discovered upon docking at Barlow’s Planet in the Cerulean system.”
Valek paused for a moment, seemingly considering how much more she was permitted to tell them.
“At the space elevator dock of Barlow’s Planet, Yarnek exited the cargo hold, found a Federation official, and immediately asked for political asylum.”
“Full citizenship?”
“That was the request. But at the moment, they have been given only refugee status.”
“You’ve taken them to the extreme edge of the Alpha Quadrant, to Zeta Gibraltar for study—and to figure out what danger they might pose for the Federation.”
“Precisely, Captain,” Valek said, gazing at him with a sudden look of surprise and approval in her eyes.
You’re not the only one who can draw logical inferences from a given situation, Kirk thought. Valek’s appreciative gaze did not irritate him as much as he thought it would. Instead, he found himself enjoying her momentary approval.
“The Federation science team has done an excellent job extracting what information they can,” Valek said. “In light of the recent pirate raid, I am here to make a determination on the request for political asylum so that the science outpost on Zeta Gibraltar can be closed until such time as adequate defenses are in place.” She placed her hand firmly, palm down, on the writing desk, as if she were attempting to impress some truth into it. “While I am intrigued by Yarnek’s explanation for his presence, I am far from convinced by it. Until I am, I deem him and the others to be a possible danger to the Federation.”
Kirk feigned surprise, playing along to Valek’s “bad cop,” which, he had to admit, was pretty convincing. “How long do you imagine that will take, Valek?” Kirk asked.
“Unknown,” Valek replied coolly. “The Montana and the Enterprise will remain in orbit until I am done here, Captain Kirk. Two ships for cover should be sufficient.”
So much for retaining her admiration, Kirk thought. She thinks we need Haynes to make up a creditable defensive force.
“You’ll excuse me, Valek,” Kirk said, “but you are outside your area of expertise.”
Valek looked Kirk up and down. Was that a shrewd smile playing over her features?
Vulcans don’t smile, Kirk reminded himself. Even when they believe they are being clever. But I’ll bet Washington-Yarnek doesn’t know that.
“In that case, since you insist on your right to question my judgment, I am required to present to you this,” she said.
From what appeared to be a pocket or pouch within her tunic, Valek drew forth a data card and handed it to Kirk.
Kirk felt his face redden. She’d sprung this surprise on him as well as Washington-Yarnek.
“These are orders bearing both the imprimatur of the Federation Council and Starfleet Command,” Valek said. “I am given command privileges over any and all ships in the Gibraltar system.”
Kirk rolled the card around in his hand, tempted to shatter it to pieces.
“The file is signed by Admiral Wingate, Starfleet liaison to the Council,” Valek said. “I have full authority over you, your crew, and your ship, Captain.”
“As pertains to your mission,” Kirk replied evenly
“Your qualification is correct,” Valek said. “But you will find that my mission has broad parameters.” She turned to Washington-Yarnek and held him in her icy gaze. “One possible reason for denying a request for asylum is a determination that the asylum seekers have lied or misrepresented themselves in any way to Federation officials.”
Washington-Yarnek looked up and met her gaze steadily. “I have not told a lie,” he said in a low, clear voice. “But what would be the consequences if I had?”
“If I judge that asylum is not to be granted, one possible course of action will be to order the Enterprise to deport you back to Excalbia.” Valek came out from behind the desk and stood beside Kirk. “Now gentlemen, if you are done with your drinks and your chat . . . Captain, I would like to consult with you as to the parameters of your orders.”
Kirk stood up. “As you wish,” he said. He bowed toward Washington-Yarnek. “Good day, Mister President.”
Washington-Yarnek, too, rose to his feet.
“Good day to you, as well, Captain,” Washington-Yarnek said. He turned to Valek. “Do you have any . . . orders for the Excalbians, Madam Representative?”
“None at present, Yarnek,” said the Vulcan. “But when I do, I shall let you know.”
Nine
Imelda Contreras had arranged temporary quarters for Kirk that included a sleeping area and a meeting space. Kirk had added to the space by installing a computer with a direct link to the Enterprise. A constant feed of scans of the system would alert the captain if the L’rah’hane returned. Kirk could remain up-to-date on ship’s operations and be ready to return to the Enterprise on a moment’s notice. Until then, however, doing anything beat standing hour upon hour of garrison duty.
Kirk thought, Let someone who needs the experience use the time to learn the ropes of ship operation and sensor monitoring.
His gut feeling that the L’rah’hane were waiting for their chance to strike back had, if anything, grown stronger.
His quarters also had the advantage of having a briefing area with chairs, a table, and the outpost’s computer link. The entire suite was, he guessed, double the size of his captain’s quarters on the ship.
Most of all, it was private—which was why he’d retired to the briefing area with his senior staff to go over their current options.
Spock, Scott, McCoy, and Uhura, who had just finished testing the computer protocols—were seated in a semicircle around the small table. Kirk currently had the audio turned off. One less distraction.
“I didn’t appreciate Valek pulling out those signed orders in the middle of our discussion with Washington, or Yarnek, or whoever he is.”
“That was likely the point, Jim,” McCoy said with a chuckle. “She needed a convincing and genuine reaction out of you to convince the fellow that she meant business, and boy did she get one.”
Kirk nodded ruefully toward the ship’s surgeon. “Yes, very clever. Unless you’re the one being used as the cat’s-paw.” He swiveled to face his first officer. “Spock, have I got any wiggle room?” he as
ked.
“I have had time to examine them, and the orders and instructions on her official brief are quite ironclad,” Spock replied. “But also quite specific. Valek’s authority over the Excalbians is unquestionable. Beyond that, her purview may be legally limited.” Spock cocked an eyebrow. “But Captain, allow me to suggest that, at the moment, we have an interest in mutual collaboration.”
Kirk chuckled. “Right as rain, Mister Spock.”
Spock shook his head. “A puzzling expression,” he said. “Rain merely is or is not, after all. It possesses not ethical or even intellectual qualities.”
“You’re right as rain about that, too, Mister Spock,” McCoy piped in with a smile.
Kirk turned to the doctor. “Bones, I know these people have studied the Excalbians every which way, but let’s get going with our own exams. I want you to stay down here for a day or so and see if you can get a few of them to take a physical from you.”
“Will do, Captain.”
“Bones, down to the molecular level.”
“Don’t worry,” said the ship’s surgeon. “I’ll do my best to find out what makes them tick, Jim. I already know why some of them insist on those silly wigs.”
“Really? Enlighten us, Doctor.”
“To hide lice,” McCoy said. “They seem to regenerate those as thoroughly as everything else.”
Kirk immediately felt a desire to reach up and scratch his head at the mention of the little beasts. He suppressed it. Yet McCoy, who could be a bit of a mind-reader himself, noticed Kirk’s tremor and smiled.