The Unsettling Stars

by Alan Dean Foster

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  HISTORIAN’S NOTE

  This story takes place in an alternate timeline created in 2233, when the Starship Kelvin was destroyed by a Romulan invader from the future (as seen in the 2009 film Star Trek). The main events in this story take place after Stardate 2258.42, when a new captain and an inexperienced crew took a repaired U.S.S. Enterprise out of spacedock for a simple shakedown cruise.

  1

  I’m having some difficulty decoding the content precisely, Captain,” Lieutenant Nyota Uhura said. “It’s being broadcast in dozens of different languages and codes. Some of it is pretty amateurish—but it’s definitely a distress call.”

  From his position at the science console on the wall to the left of the commander’s station, First Officer Spock turned his slender frame to where a very young and still comparatively untried Captain James T. Kirk sat in the command chair. “I concur, Captain. The parameters are new but the basics unmistakable. A distress signal.”

  Restraining her emotions, Uhura continued her report without turning from her console on the opposite side of the bridge from Spock. “As near as I can make out, it’s a universal appeal, Captain. Whoever is doing the sending, they’re asking for help from anybody.”

  “And very loudly.” Spock lingered over one particular readout. “The signal is remarkably strong and consistent.”

  Slightly slumped in the command seat, Kirk absorbed the information provided by his crew and silently pondered. Seated at the helm and navigation in front of him, Sulu and Chekov awaited orders. The Enterprise was still on her shakedown cruise, a routine exploration of a little-visited corner of the Federation. Or at least as routine as it could be considering that the majority of the crew had been promoted into their current positions in haste, handmaidens of circumstance. He knew perfectly well that, despite their recent achievement in dealing with the threat posed by a certain renegade time-traveling Romulan, there was ongoing discussion at the upper levels of Starfleet as to whether or not their battlefield promotions should be made permanent or rescinded. As a result of the successful resolution to the Nero confrontation, more than a few members of the Enterprise had jumped the promotional queue. As had been true throughout history, the dogs of envy and resentment were forever nipping at the heels of the successful.

  That was the nature of battlefield promotions, he knew. As far as he was concerned, everyone on the ship who had received one deserved it. There was no false pride in feeling that he certainly deserved his own. Sitting up straighter in the chair, Kirk sighed heavily. You could destroy an enemy with an array of phasers. You could overwhelm his shields with a barrage of precisely placed photon torpedoes. Neither weapon was effective against envy.

  Everyone on board was aware of this state of affairs. Despite their accomplishments, their individual positions and ranks were precarious. One serious mistake, one collective slipup, and the whole range of promotions could be withdrawn as swiftly as they had been bestowed. There was even the possibility of field-demoted officers being sent back to the Academy for additional training. Kirk shivered at the prospect.

  While he enjoyed the ancillary social benefits of the Academy, Kirk considered himself finished with studies. This was where he belonged. Not in a classroom but out in deep space, in command of a starship and its crew. Having survived everything Nero had thrown at them, every member of the crew had looked forward to what Christopher Pike referred to as their “delayed shakedown.” This voyage offered an opportunity for everyone to settle into their respective assignments, to familiarize themselves with the intricacies and eccentricities of the ship, to get to know their shipmates, to work hard at and continue to master their specialties, and to do so without interruption or interference. Except…

  Now this.

  Spock could not read Kirk’s thoughts, but he could see that the captain was vacillating. He did not believe that Kirk was afraid of making a wrong decision. Left to his own devices, the inexperienced captain would immediately have acknowledged the distress call and ordered the relevant course change. Except now that Kirk was responsible for an entire ship, its crew, and everyone’s professional future, he was hesitating.

  The science officer felt that this was an encouraging development.

  Pavel Chekov spoke up from his seat at navigation. “Captain, utilizing the communications data, I have traced the source of the signal to the Marr-i-nul system.”

  “Uninhabited, Captain.” Spock provided the information without having to be asked. “And unclaimed. It lies just outside Federation boundaries and distant from even the usual extravagant Klingon maps. Neutral territory.”

  Kirk muttered something unintelligible before commenting. “It’s also near enough that we could get there quickly and size the situation up without deviating radically from our course.”

  Spock raised an eyebrow. “I am compelled to point out, Captain, that insofar as Lieutenant Uhura has been able to determine, the distress signal is not typically issued of a Federation or allied vessel. As we are engaged in what originally was intended to be our shakedown cruise, Starfleet could see it as presumptuous of us to intervene—however altruistic the motive.”

  A new voice sounded on the bridge. “How did I know you were going to say that?”

  The science officer glanced in the direction of the oncoming sarcasm. “I do not know, Doctor. Perhaps in the considerable leisure time you have enjoyed since our departure from Earth, you have finally mastered the ability to predict the future.”

  Leonard McCoy eyed him sourly, mumbling to the captain, “If I was going to probe another sentient’s mind, it wouldn’t be…”

  “I predict you’re both going to be quiet for a moment,” Kirk declared, just forcefully enough that both officers looked embarrassed. It went silent on the bridge while he ruminated a moment longer. Then he looked to his right and spoke firmly. “Mister Chekov, set a course for the Marr-i-nul system. Stand by to go to warp factor eight. Mister Sulu, when we drop out of warp, I want shields up and phasers on standby.”

  “Aye, sir.” The lieutenants hurried to make the requested preparations.

  Doctor McCoy had moved over to stand behind and to one side of the command chair. “You sure you know what you’re doing, Jim?”

  Kirk turned to frown at his friend. “I had the impression you wanted us to check out this signal.”

  “I do.” The doctor smiled affably. “I’m just practicing the query because I ‘predict’ that I’m going to have opportunities to use it a lot.”

  Having risen from his seat at the science station, Spock walked over to join them. “Captain, I must point out that given the specifics of our mission, we are not authorized to
intervene in a distress situation that does not involve Federation citizens or property. This is plainly a hastily composed distress call, and one that is being propagated from outside Federation boundaries.” He eyed McCoy, who glared back but said nothing. “In my ongoing and apparently never-ending research into the arcane dimensions of human metaphor, it might be called ‘sticking one’s nose into someone else’s business.’ ”

  Kirk inclined his head slightly. “Mister Spock, I bow to your growing familiarity with human language. However, we’re still going to try and find out what’s going on in the Marr-i-nul system.”

  For a second time in the past few moments, an eyebrow rose slightly. “Rationale—for the record, sir?”

  Kirk nodded. “For the record, as captain I consider sticking my nose into someone else’s business part of my job description.” Returning his gaze forward, he raised his voice. “Mister Sulu, warp factor eight.”

  The Enterprise immediately leaped forward at many multiples of the speed of light.

  Behind Kirk, McCoy repressed a grin as he murmured, “A captain is allowed to use his discretion, isn’t he, Mister Spock?”

  “That is so, Doctor. Unfortunately, in my limited experience ‘discretion’ is a term I have yet to learn how to apply to James Kirk.”

  * * *

  The massive alien ship sat in a high orbit around the second of three large moons that traveled in majestic procession around a gas giant twice the size of Jupiter. Its design was functional and unlovely. From the base of six joined spheres arrayed around a central locus, half a dozen huge conduits tapered to the point where the enormous warp engines were located.

  Appearances, however, proved deceiving.

  “Science, report.” Kirk stared intently at the image hovering forward of his position. While notably larger than the Enterprise, the appearance and design of the peculiar alien vessel seemed to hold none of the Narada’s menace. Externally it was almost featureless.

  “Type unknown, Captain.” Spock’s full attention was directed to the science station’s readouts. “Origin unknown. While presently putting forth a minimal amount of power, there are indications that the vessel is capable of generating a good deal more energy than it is presently deploying. As alien aesthetics are of course unpredictable, at first glance the design would appear to be an interesting amalgamation of the advanced and the purely utilitarian.”

  Kirk indicated his agreement. “Straightforward and functional.” He looked to his right. “Mister Sulu?”

  The lieutenant was assiduously scrutinizing his readouts. “They have shields up, Captain. The energy signature of their defenses is unique. Ever since our arrival I’ve been trying to get an analytical handle on the subatomic structure of their defensive deployment, and so far it defies the norms. The vessel appears to be maintaining considerably more powerful shields than the Enterprise while utilizing a good deal less energy to do so.”

  “Fascinating,” was the single responding observation.

  Kirk did not have to look around to identify the source of the one-word commentary.

  “Never mind the shields,” muttered McCoy. “What about their weapons? And if they have them, where are they pointed?”

  “Not at us.” Sulu’s fingers manipulated the controls in front of him swiftly and assuredly. “Other than the fact that they have shields raised, I can detect no hint of antagonism.” He calmly added, “We also have our shields raised, and phasers on standby.”

  “So everyone’s being careful. Fair enough.” Kirk turned his head slightly. “Lieutenant Uhura, are we certain this is the source of the distress signal you picked up?”

  “It’s not just the distress signal any longer, Captain. They started hailing us the moment we arrived. I’ve been running through thousands of possible variations on record, but as yet it’s a mess of unidentified codecs. I just about have it narrowed down.” She fingered several contacts. “I think I’ve got it now.” Together with everyone else on the bridge, she gazed expectantly in the direction of the main forward viewer.

  Tension gripped each member of the young crew. The last time they had dealt with an unpredictable and unknown communication, it had originated from a ship whose commander had declared his intent to destroy the entire Federation. Though like the now-destroyed Narada this strange vessel was also of unknown origin, unlike the Romulan craft it had made no hostile gestures in their direction. That did not lead to a lessening of caution on board the Enterprise. Everyone was well aware that a distress signal could be a ploy, a lure to coax unsuspecting good Samaritans to a waiting doom. Hence the captain’s well-considered decision to energize phasers and approach the unknown supplicant with shields up.

  A human from an earlier, more naïve age would have been disarmed and reassured by the first sight of the creature that finally appeared on the viewscreen. Present-day explorers, however, did not suffer from the distractions proffered by seemingly innocent visuals. The old saying that appearances could be deceiving held true as much in deep space as it had when humanity had been confined to a single planet. What a sentient looked like had nothing to do with how it might act, nor what the social and cultural underpinnings of its civilization were, or its potential reactions to the presence of others different from its own kind. Something that looked benign could hail from a society founded on periodic orgies of communal homicide, whereas a giant fanged arthropod might be interested only in the peaceful advancement of mutually beneficial commerce and cultural exchange.

  The being that gazed back at Kirk was comfortingly bipedal and bisymmetrical; it appeared to stand a good head shorter than the average human. It was slight and smooth of build, with double-jointed arms and legs that doubtless allowed for great flexibility of movement. There were seven similarly double-jointed fingers on each hand. Instead of keratinous claws or nails, each digit terminated in a soft spatulate pad lined with close-set parallel ridges. The face was angular, with large rectangular ears that swept backward and flexed perpendicular to the side of the skull when listening intently. There were no visible nostrils, though Spock theorized that a slightly prehensile fleshy organ dangling from each ear might possibly perform a similar function. The mouth was small, round, and lipless. Opposing horny plates took the place of teeth. Oversized eyes that peered out of the flat face featured slitted gold-hued pupils set in startlingly bright-yellow sclera.

  The alien was clad in a single spiraling strip of muted material tinted shades of brown and ochre that appeared to have been wound around its body rather than slipped on. Where it was not covered by clothing, there was revealed thick beige centimeter-long fur that had been trimmed and shaved into intricate patterns. When the creature shifted its stance, iridescent highlights shimmered within its pelt.

  It was not exactly cute, Uhura decided as she joined the others on the bridge in contemplating this newly contacted species. The angular skull mitigated against that. But its outward appearance was certainly anything but threatening.

  It was left to McCoy to voice what everyone was thinking. “Goo-goo eyes or not, whatever that thing is, it represents a species capable of building a mighty impressive starship protected by powerful shields of an unknown type. Maybe they have equally powerful weapons.”

  “I find myself in agreement, Doctor.” As he spoke, Spock was directing his attention to the captain. “Distress signal and unthreatening physical appearance notwithstanding, we should proceed with caution.”

  “When have you ever known me to do otherwise?” Kirk replied without irony. Leaning forward, he addressed himself to the alien on the viewscreen. “I am Captain James T. Kirk commanding the United Federation of Planets Starship Enterprise. We received your distress signal.” He glanced over at Spock, then back at the alien. “Have we interpreted the context of your transmission correctly, and if so, what is the nature of your emergency?”

  There was a pause as relevant instrumentation on both the Enterprise and the alien vessel strove to analyze and organize the linguistics
necessary to allow for face-to-face, as opposed to machine-to-machine, conversation. Chekov leaned toward Sulu and lowered his voice. “Is it just me or does there seem to be a great deal of activity taking place on their bridge?”

  “I’ve noticed it too.” The helmsman was trying to divide his attention between his readouts and the fascinating alien. “The background blurring suggests additional figures moving rapidly. It would be nice to know what they’re in such a hurry about.”

  “Hopefully not arming weapons,” Chekov commented darkly.

  Sulu was openly doubtful. “Sensors indicate that they’re not doing anything other than maintaining their present position. There’s no change in energy output. I have a feeling that this species doesn’t pose any danger.”

  “Yes, tell the captain that you have a ‘feeling’ about it. I’m sure he’ll order you to drop our shields.”

  The alien’s response seemed as hurried as the movements of his fellow beings behind him. That it was indeed a “him” who was responding was confirmed by Uhura’s semantics algorithms.

  “I am Taell, Leaderesque of the colony ship Eparthaa of the Perenorean Outreach. On a journey to settle a new and uninhabited world that was revealed by one of our deep-space probes, we were thrown off course by an unprecedented combination of mechanical problems and navigation errors. Damage was sufficiently extensive that we were unable to resume our original intended flow. Fuel and engineering limitations prevent us from returning home.

  “While striving to find a suitable world on which to settle within the much-reduced range of our ship, we subsequently found ourselves brutally attacked and without warning. Our assailants gave us no opportunity to elaborate upon our wholly peaceful intentions. As a result, we have been fleeing and defending ourselves ever since.”

  As the biped suddenly muted the sound, he glanced behind himself without turning his body. McCoy carefully whispered, “He’s like an owl.” Everyone on the bridge of the Enterprise had noticed that this new species was able to rotate their heads almost a full hundred and eighty degrees on their short necks.