by Lee Correy
The punctilious, mannered, diplomatic, and almost stilted words of greeting nearly caught Kirk off guard. Then the reason for it dawned upon him. Even Pallar, the Guardian One of Mercan, carried a visible holstered firearm.
In a culture with a code duello such as this one, it's a necessity that a person have the most gracious manners, even to strangers. Boorish actions can't be tolerated in a close society such as the Mercans possessed, a society that was truly planet-wide because of their transporter system.
A Mercan was required to back up his manners with his life.
It put another trump card in Kirk's hand … because the entire Enterprise landing party was not visibly armed.
Or so he thought.
Kirk returned the greeting with equal good manners. "Guardian Pallar, I'm Captain James T. Kirk." He introduced each of the other three members of the landing party, then went on, "Thank you for your kind welcome to Celerbitan. We're very pleased to be here because we've been in great trouble and have come to Celerbitan to request your gracious assistance."
Pallar adjusted the baldric over his shoulder. In common with the other Mercans, except the Proctors, he was dressed rather simply in a tunic belted at the waist, a headband of a bright color and intricate design, and a baldric or bandolier over his left shoulder with a number of pouches attached to it. His firearm hung from this baldric at his right thigh. On a planet such as Mercan, with little axial tilt, large oceans, and no pronounced seasonal change, clothing for warmth wouldn't be required, just as on Vulcan. However, this culture was different because it apparently didn't embrace elaboration and intricate decoration as did the Vulcan culture.
Well, Kirk thought, each culture's different, and that's what makes the universe so interesting.
Pallar's hawklike face betrayed no emotion as he looked carefully at each of the landing party in turn, then came to Orun. "You appear well, Orun. Ah, why is it that when a person becomes responsible-old he often strays from the tenets of the Code of the Abode? Orun, your activities with the Technic and those of the Technic itself are beginning to threaten the peace and tranquillity of the Abode. I asked Proctor Lenos to bring you to Celerbitan under a Proctor warrant issued by the Guardian Justice because I want to speak to you about your activities and those of the Technic."
"Guardian One, I have nothing that I would speak of under any circumstances or conditions," Orun replied with strained gentility.
"We'll see. We're patient. The Sun of the Abode will not always remain this quiet … and there's the question of admission to the Keeps …" Pallar said calmly.
He turned to Kirk. "In the meantime, Captain Kirk, I'm told that your group was found with Orun and his companions. You all have strange names, strange appearances, strange clothing, and strange speech. I also see that you go about unarmed. All of you must be Technic constructs or products of Technic development."
"Guardian One, we're not of the Technic," Kirk told him quickly and with sincerity. "I'm permitted under my code of conduct to reveal to you as Guardian One, the unquestioned leader of the Abode, that we don't come from Mercan. We're from another place. We're anxious not to disrupt the way of life here, and I'm certain you're concerned about that possibility. I believe our discussion won't go further than this group until we've both determined that our presence here won't cause problems with the Code of the Abode."
Pallar did not say anything for a moment. This was certainly not the response he had expected from Kirk. "You're not of the Abode?" Pallar said slowly. "If not … and if …" He stopped.
"I certainly understand why you feel that you're alone in a vast and empty universe. I've seen your night sky," Kirk told the Mercan leader. "There's nothing in that night sky to tell you differently. But do you know that Mercan probably came from what you call the Ribbon of Night? Do you know what makes the Ribbon glow in the sky at night?"
"You're a strange person, Captain Kirk," Pallar observed. "Everyone on the Abode knows that we once came from the Ribbon of Night a long time ago. And the Ribbon of Night's probably composed of vitaliar rocks such as we have on the Abode that glow naturally of their own accord in the dark. The Abode is rich in these rocks that are used in our power systems. Therefore, the Ribbon of Night must be composed of uncountable pieces of such rock ranged all around the sky. It's the place where we originated because there's where the energy and the power existed to create Mercaniad the Sun and Mercan the Abode … and all the life that's on the Abode. It's our destiny to maintain this unique thing called life in an endless night of nothing except the dim glow of our heritage."
"Guardian Pallar," Kirk said, taking the plunge, "I told you that the four of us are not from the Abode, and you can see that for yourself. We come in a giant travelling device from the Ribbon of Night, which contains billions upon billions of suns such as Mercaniad and billions of worlds such as the Abode. You can't see these suns as individual lights because of your great distance from them. The Ribbon of Night teems with life on worlds like the Abode. You are not alone."
Pallar said nothing and did not move. But Kirk saw Proctor Lenos stiffen. Orun, on the other hand, became visibly excited, as though he were hearing the confirmation of things he had tentatively started to believe.
"Technic heresy," Lenos growled.
Pallar held up his hand. "Indeed, it sounds like that. Captain Kirk, what you say flies against all logic, reason, and evidence. You speak in the words of the Technic, but with such interesting new interpretations that I, as Guardian One of the Code of the Abode, must learn more about these new Technic beliefs in order to properly refute them. I have no recourse but to believe that you and your three companions are important new developments of the Technic, perhaps the creation of beings that can withstand the Ordeal without requiring the protection of the Keeps. It's obvious to me that the Technic capabilities are not yet perfect, for they've created in you a species of being that is mentally incomplete … and therefore I must consider the four of you less than sane by the standards of the Code. I don't insult you deliberately, even though all four of you are not armed … which is another interesting Technic warping of the Code. As Guardian One, I therefore require that you not be permitted to utilize the traveler and that you remain on Celerbitan so all the Guardians may meet with you. Please surrender your traveler controls to Proctor Lenos." His hand was on the butt of his sidearm as he said this, because he was well aware of the fact that he might have insulted these four strangers and therefore be required to defend himself, Guardian or not.
But Kirk and his party made no move whatsoever. "We don't carry anything of that sort," the Captain of the Enterprise told the Mercan leader, aware of the fact that he'd run up against a barrier he couldn't hope to overcome immediately.
Pallar asked his chief Proctor, "Lenos, do they carry traveler controls?"
"They carry strange devices, but nothing that I recognize as traveler controls."
To Kirk, Pallar spoke apologetically. "I must ask the Proctors to search you physically to ensure you don't have traveler controls that would enable you to leave Celerbitan."
Kirk shrugged and smiled. "We're your guests, Pallar. Why should we want to leave? You're the one we wish to speak with. You're obviously the leader among leaders, and you're the only one who can possibly help us."
Kirk and the three others probably could have taken the Proctor squad in hand-to-hand, but it might have led to potentially irreversible consequences. There was some communication now between Kirk and Pallar; Kirk's full intention was to keep that channel of communication open and to expand it. He was curious about the Technic, but whoever the Technic was, they were not the supreme political power on the planet. Pallar was … or at least represented the group that was.
So he silently signaled his landing party to submit to search without resistance. They were a trained and disciplined landing party. He hardly needed to let them know.
The Proctors, of course, came up with the equipment that each of the landing party had—hand phas
ers, communicators, McCoy's medical kit, and the tricorders.
Pallar looked at each of them carefully. "Do you recognize any of these Technic devices, Proctor Lenos?"
"Guardian Pallar, I've made it my business to become acquainted with all Technic devices," Lenos told him with some confusion in his voice as he turned each device over in his hands. "I don't recognize any of these. There is nothing here that resembles anything I've seen before. And there's no device that remotely resembles a traveler control."
Pallar was obviously in a quandary. Any of the devices might be lethal—either in the hands of these four strange people … or if taken from them. Any of these devices might have surveillance or probing characteristics—or might even detonate after a set period of time if taken from them. There was nothing that resembled a Mercan weapon. But he asked anyway, "Captain Kirk, please explain these devices to me."
Kirk indicated the tricorder. "This device has been analyzing and recording the various characteristics of the Abode for our future study so we may get to know you better and thus not disrupt your culture. These"—Kirk indicated the phasers—"are protection for us against things on the Abode that may be dangerous to us. And these"—he pointed to the communicators—"could be considered as a means for us to indicate status to one another."
Kirk had couched his words carefully in positive semantic terminology he hoped would be acceptable to Pallar.
It was. "I see nothing here that could be dangerous to us. But I must give you a careful warning. Should you attempt any violence, the results would certainly require the immediate services of your health expert here. I see no reason to strip you of your sigils of recognition and status … and there's certainly nothing here on Celerbitan that we would object to having recorded and analyzed by your devices, for I'm certain that anyone, Technic or not, knows everything there is to know about Celerbitan … except for the Mysteries of Mercaniad, which reside only in the minds of the Guardians. Lenos, please see to it that all of them have comfortable quarters … including Orun, who shall also be our guest as he tells us about these four new Technic people. But monitor all traveler activity into their quarters; we don't want any Technic people to materialize and try to assist them in any sort of violent escape. . . ." He turned to Orun and put forth his hand. "Orun, please surrender your traveler control to me. The Guardian One has the right to restrict your freedom by Guardian warrant under the Code."
Orun gave the older man a small hand-held device similar to the one Lenos had used to transport all of them to Celerbitan, but he gave it up with obvious reluctance.
Pallar then went on, addressing them all, "It's my intention and my duty to call a conclave of the Guardians on Celerbitan to investigate you and your three companions, James Kirk. We'd planned only to warrant the reeducation of Orun and his compatriots … and we'll do that after we've had the opportunity to learn more of you and study what must be done to prevent you and others like yourself from disrupting the Code of the Abode. You'll be given comfortable quarters and permitted the freedom of Celerbitan, since it's not possible to leave this island without using the traveler, whose use is prohibited to all of you. Orun, you may remain with your strange Technic companions."
With that, the Guardian One placed both hands before his long face, then separated them sideways, obviously the Mercan gesture of greeting and/or farewell.
"Whew!" Scotty breathed. "Talk about longwinded …"
"Scotty, you're betraying the fact that you're only a few generations removed from Gaelic savagery," McCoy remarked.
"Doctor, under different circumstances, we might have a little workout in the ship's gym because of that remark. . . ."
"See what I mean?" McCoy said with a smile. "We don't have the Mercan code duello, but we have our own code, don't we?"
Kirk flashed them the hand signal to be quiet.
They were led by Lenos and the Proctors to what might best be termed a villa overlooking the wine-dark sea of Mercan not far from the Guardian Villa. There, the Proctors simply left them.
"Strangest jail I've ever seen," McCoy remarked, noting that there were no bars on the windows and no latched and bolted doors.
Kirk was investigating everything he could, and said as he checked doors to see where they led, "What did we expect? There's not a boat or ship on that ocean. There's not an aircraft in the air. There's no way we can leave here. And the Guardians have such ubiquitous power through their Proctors that we'd be cut down in a moment if we tried any violence … which isn't to our purposes anyway. We aren't in any danger at the moment, and we're being treated well by our standards as well as by theirs. And we've established a channel of communications with the top man on the planet. We're in better shape than we were a few days ago, when the best we could do was to limp along at Warp Factor Two with the anticipation of several years to get home."
"So, what do we do now?" McCoy wanted to know.
"Wait and gather data," Kirk explained. "Each of you has a specialty plus an individual viewpoint. You'll each come up with different data and with different interpretations of what you see. Together we may be able to come up with some sort of rational answer to what's going on here."
"But I've got a crippled star ship up there in orbit that needs repair," Scotty complained.
"Is there any danger that the Enterprise is going to malfunction by orbiting this planet for a few days or weeks, Scotty?"
"No, but we canna go anywhere, and I canna get that warp drive unit repaired if we just sit here."
"Scotty, you've got a whole new technology to decipher," Kirk pointed out to his engineer. "You may not be able to repair that warp drive unit here unless you can unravel the Mercan technology to find out what parts of it can be useful to you. You've got a tremendous job to do," Kirk reminded him.
"Right you are. Thank ye for puttin' things back in perspective, Captain."
Kirk whipped out his communicator and snapped its cover open. "Enterprise, this is Kirk."
"Go ahead, Captain," Uhura's voice came back.
"We're under house arrest by the humanoids living on this planet," Kirk reported. "We're all right. We're located on a large island apparently in the middle of one of the oceans in their planetary capital called Celerbitan. Have Mister Spock pinpoint our location from this transmission. Now, stand by for a verbal report as well as a playback of our tricorder data."
For the next several minutes Kirk gave a verbal report into his communicator. Then he used the communicator to transmit a data dump from the tricorders of Janice Rand, McCoy, and Scotty.
Spock's voice came from the communicator after this was completed. "I have all the data in the library computer, Captain, and I shall analyze it along with all additional data you send up. I must say, this is a fascinating discovery."
"Do you mean you're excited, Spock?" Kirk asked.
"Sir, my terms were most precise. And it will be interesting to compare this Mercan culture against those we already know of. . . ."
"Undoubtedly, Mister Spock. But in the meantime, we've got to study and unravel this culture. We've got to make repairs here, and what we find out about Mercan will determine how we go about the job," Kirk told his First Officer over the communicator. "We'll feed data to you as often as we can. And please communicate any interesting findings or correlations you come up with."
"Of course, Captain," Spock's voice replied. "In the meantime, I'll also keep watch on this irregular variable star … which is far from being stable in any regard. I'm running computer analyses now in hopes I can warn you of any impending increase in its stellar output that might create a hazard to you on the surface or to the Enterprise here in standard orbit."
"Very well, Spock. Let me know the moment you have any data on the star … which is called Mercaniad, by the way."
"Very good, Captain. I'll tag the computer data with that name and so list it in the stellar catalog."
"That's all for now. Kirk out."
Orun, the young Mercan, had been wa
tching this with fascination. "You are not from the Abode," he said, his voice tinged with an emotion that might be termed jubilation … although Kirk could find no reason why Orun would be jubilant.
"I told you the truth," Kirk remarked.
Orun was both excited and apparently overjoyed, but yet disturbed. "I have heard the Technic theories, and I have believed them … but to find out that they are apparently true gives me a very strange feeling. . . ."
"We know what you mean," McCoy told him gently. "The truth sometimes hurts a great deal. . . ."
"Where do you come from? How did you travel here?" Orun began to ask, his questions almost falling over one another in his anxiety to learn.
Kirk sat down on one of the chairs that had been designed for the longer, lankier Mercan physiology; it wasn't very comfortable for him because the seat was so high that his legs barely touched the floor. "Orun," he told the young Mercan, "we'll tell you and the Guardians everything. But, before we can explain to you in words and terms that you'll understand, we have to know something about the Abode and about those of you who live here. We've seen many places like the Abode and we know of many people and many living things from all these places. To explain them to you so that it'll mean something, we must know what you believe, how you think, and how you live your lives. Otherwise, we might tell you things in a way that you simply couldn't understand. So … sit down. We have lots of time. Tell us about Mercan … the Guardians, the Proctors, the Technic … the stories and legends about where you came from and where all this began. Tell us your stories. . . ."
Captain's Log, recorded into a tricorder on Mercan, exact stardate unknown at this moment.
Orun has spent a long time telling us about Mercan. A lot of what he's said amounts to something similar to the fairy tales, legends, and religious stories that we tell our own children. They're fables and parables. But there isn't the wide variety of stories from Mercan that there are on Earth, because there's something totally unique here on Mercan: one single, planet-wide culture with little variety or variation caused by regional differences because the Mercans have had their transporter system now for generations. This has leveled out their planetary culture. . . . It's going to keep xeno-sociologists of the Federation busy for a long time to come … if our initial contact here doesn't disturb the culture so deeply that it destroys this unique discovery. I keep thinking of two cultures of Earth that were so completely destroyed that practically none of their heritage remains: the Mayas and the Carthaginians. None of us dare make a mistake, because if we do, two possibilities face us. Either we'll never get the cooperation of the Mercans to repair the Enterprise, in which case this data will sit here until another Federation starship discovers this world. Or we'll impact this culture so strongly that it'll shatter … and I'll have destroyed a people in order to save my command. . . .