The Unsettling Stars

by Alan Dean Foster

  Kirk turned to his first officer. “Sounds like very accomplished mind control.”

  “Or very accomplished minds. I am beginning to wonder, Captain, if we are not seeing something important that is right in front of us.”

  Kirk studied his friend. “What are you getting at, Spock?”

  “Nothing specific, Captain. Leastwise, not yet.”

  A moment’s hesitation, and then Kirk addressed his communicator once more. “Have your colleague bring you back to the shuttlebay, Bones. I presume you’ve gathered sufficient material to keep you busy back on the ship?”

  “That’s putting it mildly, Jim. I’ve recorded enough data to keep half the research staff at the College of Xenomedicine active for a year! Why, there are potential applications that—”

  “See you in a few minutes, Bones.” Kirk hastily closed his communicator. In a very short time, he had learned that while McCoy would discourse happily and without end on virtually any subject, it was medicine and its potential advancement through newly acquired knowledge that could keep him chattering enthusiastically for hours. And while all of it was fascinating, a great deal was highly technical and obscure. McCoy would keep rambling, unless he was courteously cut off.

  With Taell’s guidance, they found their way back to an airlock outside the Eparthaa’s shuttlebay and waited for McCoy to rejoin them. As his first officer was putting away his communicator, Kirk asked, “Well, Spock? You said you might have a planet or two in your pocket. Did you ever find them?”

  “No planets, Captain,” the science officer replied, “but Lieutenant Uhura did manage to track down another possibility. More modest than what I’d hoped to find, but perhaps adequate for the situation at hand.”

  Kirk was instantly attentive. “And?”

  The science officer checked to make sure they were alone. Alone as they could be, that is, on an alien vessel whose total population was still an unknown. Their guide Taell stood off to one side conversing with several subordinates. None of the Perenoreans appeared to be paying them the slightest attention.

  “Not far from our present coordinates at modest warp speed and on the edge of this quadrant of the Federation lies a world called SiBor.”

  Kirk strained his memory. “Can’t say that I’ve heard of it.”

  “That is not surprising, Captain, as it is not a member of the Federation. SiBor is a low-level inhabited world with which commercial, social, and political contact was made by Federation envoys only thirty years ago. The SiBoronaans are by all accounts a peaceful, nonexpansive species interested in further contact with the galaxy, and most especially hands-on assistance in developing their sluggish single-world economy.”

  Kirk flashed a wry grin. “Sounds like the best thing we could do for them is stay far away.”

  Though he recognized the irony, Spock did not respond in kind. “As you are amply aware, Captain, for better or worse, once a sentient species has experienced the satisfactions to be gained from advanced technology, they are most reluctant to regress. The SiBoronaans would appear to be no different from any other sentient species that has undergone such contact. No species chooses to forgo the opportunities for advancement in favor of establishing themselves as a permanent tourist attraction. Or to put it another way, one individual’s quaint traditional community is another’s backward nation. Consequently, the SiBoronaans seek outside help to more rapidly advance their civilization.”

  Kirk had turned thoughtful. “Are you suggesting that the Perenoreans might be that help?”

  “SiBor is orbited by several moons. All are small save one, DiBor, which is roughly the size of Mercury. Most scientists would refer to SiBor-DiBor as a dual planetary system, with the smaller sphere orbiting the larger. Astronomers often refer to Earth-Moon in the same way. As is not uncommon in such twinned-world systems, DiBor boasts an environment virtually identical to that of SiBor: atmosphere, water, temperate weather, and a vibrant native ecosystem. But, it is and always has been uninhabited. It has not been colonized or otherwise developed by the SiBoronaans because they have not mastered the necessary technology and skills required. Nor have they felt any urgency to do so because their own world is far from being exploited and their population density is modest.”

  Kirk pondered the implications. “You’re suggesting that the Perenoreans settle on the SiBoronaans’ moon.”

  The first officer diffidently shrugged. “I believe it to be an option worth pursuing. Before presenting the idea to the Perenoreans, we must naturally first explore it with the SiBoronaans. I propose it as a possible solution, since it could potentially be of as much benefit to them as to the Perenoreans. The latter would gain a new home while the SiBoronaans would benefit from the immediate proximity of the advanced Perenoreans. The fact that the Perenoreans are a species that is not politically allied to the Federation should render the situation even more appealing to the inherently cautious SiBoronaans.”

  Kirk smiled at his first officer. “I see the potential. What about the possibility that the SiBoronaans might be overwhelmed by their new neighbors?”

  “While not densely populated or in possession of a technology equal to the Federation median, SiBor is a mature world with a fully developed culture. According to the available information, there are just over a billion SiBoronaans.” Spock indicated their surroundings. “Extrapolating from the size of their ship, the number of Perenorean colonists cannot number more than a few thousand at most. And in the event of any conflict, the Federation can stand ready to step in and settle any unforeseen disputes.”

  Kirk exhaled deeply. “Mister Spock, you realize that Starfleet and the Federation government will want to examine all the possible ramifications.”

  “They will have to come to a decision more swiftly than usual, Captain, as the Perenorean supply limitations indicate that they do not have much time left. I think the process will go more quickly, since the intention is to place the refugees in a new home that is not part of the Federation.”

  “I suppose it’s possible that there are one or two government bureaucrats who are capable of moving faster than particles chilled to near absolute zero.” Kirk’s jauntiness returned. “It’s a fine idea, Spock.”

  He glanced around. Their Perenorean hosts were still conversing animatedly among themselves and continuing to ignore the two visitors.

  “We’ll explain the situation to Starfleet. If we can get a preliminary go-ahead, we’ll contact the government on SiBor. Provided they agree, even if it’s only on a provisional basis, I suspect the Perenoreans will jump at the offer.”

  Spock nodded, clearly pleased. “Starfleet can agree to supervise and perhaps, to a limited extent, underwrite the establishment of the settlement. Provided everything proceeds as hoped for, the Federation stands to gain the gratitude of not one but two sentient species.”

  On the shuttle back to the Enterprise, upon learning the details of Spock’s initiative, McCoy was even less restrained.

  “This isn’t just a ‘good and useful’ thing you’ve come up with, Spock. It’s much, much more than that.”

  The science officer found McCoy’s unstinting praise more disconcerting than the doctor’s usual sarcasm. “I am only seeking to find a way to aid refugees whose situation is not unlike the Vulcans’. I have lost an old world, and we both seek a new one.” He spoke as he guided the shuttle the short distance back to the Enterprise. Knowing McCoy, he braced himself. “If not ‘good and useful,’ what would you call it, Doctor?”

  McCoy’s expression turned uncharacteristically solemn. “I’d say it qualified as downright noble, Spock.”

  4

  Locating Uhura in the mess, Spock sat down opposite the Enterprise’s chief communications officer and regarded the remaining portion of her midday meal with a mixture of curiosity and distaste. None of this was visible on his face, of course, but Uhura knew him well enough to know when he was feeling ill at ease. She prodded the central portion of her plate with a fork.


  “It would look worse if the artificial gravity was off.”

  “I confess I find the general appearance of your meal unsettling.” He studied the alien conglomeration with as much scientific detachment as he could muster. “What is it?”

  “Nyama choma, ugali, and curried mung beans. The synthesizer doesn’t do mung beans very well, but it makes an excellent curry.”

  “I see. You will not take offense if I prefer not to try it?”

  Spearing a piece of roast, she placed it delicately between her lips and chewed slowly. Very slowly. “Spock, I wouldn’t take offense at anything you prefer not to try. Or to try. You should know that by now.”

  He looked around. Their table was isolated from the other diners. “I would like to think that I do, but I find personal relationships between humans and Vulcans frequently bewildering.”

  She laughed softly. “Well, that beats ‘incomprehensible,’ which is the descriptive term you used to use.”

  “I like to think that, in the last year, my knowledge of human ways has progressed.”

  She eyed him. “Oh, it has, Spock, it has. Nice of you to keep me company for the rest of my lunch, though.”

  “Actually, I did come with a serious question to ask.”

  “Would I ever have thought otherwise?” She sighed. “What is it?”

  “Captain Kirk, Doctor McCoy, and I have just concluded an extensive visit to the Perenorean ship. While we utilized standard Federation translation equipment equipped with your program, I noticed no similar apparatus in use among the Perenoreans. Yet they were able to understand and to communicate with us with varying degrees of fluency and without hesitation.” He leaned toward her, his tone intense. “While we were on the Eparthaa, did your Perenorean counterpart or anyone else from their vessel contact you or anyone in your section for information on Federation language, its vocabulary, or its rules of grammar?”

  She put her fork down. “No.”

  He considered: “Most interesting. It suggests that Perenorean translation equipment is highly miniaturized and extremely efficient—or else the Perenoreans are extremely proficient linguists.”

  Uhura was shaking her head in disagreement. “Spock, no known species is capable of mastering an alien language without intensive preparation—much less in a day. Your first guess must be correct: they just have very good and very small translation gear.”

  “Yes, of course. That must be it. To imagine otherwise would be foolish. Unprecedented, even.”

  Seeing that he was puzzled, she knew from experience that he was likely to be up all night pondering every potential ramification, however negligible they might be.

  “They might be exceptionally skilled linguists and fast learners. Or just good mimics. There are higher-functioning animals on Earth who have that skill. Tell them something once and they can repeat it back to you perfectly. Combine that with an array of miniaturized concealed instrumentation, and it might look as if they actually were learning the language on the fly when in reality they’re just relying on clever mimicry.”

  “Yes, appearances can be deceiving. Such a theory has merit.” He sounded unaccountably relieved. “I appreciate your insight, Lieutenant.”

  She smiled back at him. “Anything else in sight you appreciate, Commander?”

  “You are playing with words. They are, of course, your specialty.” He sounded as confident as he looked. “My studies have allowed me to comprehend a good deal more of such human games.”

  “Uh-huh. So what do you get from this?”

  Seated directly across from her, he straightened sharply. “I comprehend that the toes of your right foot are advancing vertically up my leg.”

  “Very good,” she replied. “And what do you foresee as the final result of this lazy podiatric wandering?”

  He rose rather quickly. “We are about to initiate contact with the SiBoronaans so that we may present them with our proposal. I must be present when that occurs.” He started to leave, hesitated, and looked back. “Though I am not reluctant to confess that I would much prefer to remain and follow your attempted podal misdirection to its logical conclusion.”

  “All in good time.” She dismissed him with a diffident wave of her hand as she resumed eating. “Go and have your meeting. What matter the wishes of one woman when the fate of two species is at hand?”

  He paused, started to say something, thought better of it, and hurried to exit the dining area. Yet more proof, he told himself. As if any additional was needed.

  Bewildering, indeed.

  * * *

  McCoy’s enthusiasm as he paced the bridge was so boundless that Kirk half expected his friend to rise off the deck.

  “I’m telling you, Jim, these people, these Perenoreans, while not as advanced as us when it comes to weaponry and other technical stuff, have access to other knowledge that is going to be of enormous benefit to the Federation. Just talking with Masteresque Founoh for a few hours made me feel that, if we could do research alongside them, we might in a few years produce the kinds of results Federation biologists have been working toward for centuries!” His voice fell to an intense whisper.

  “Do you know, Jim, that they’ve developed something that I can only describe as a self-morphing antibiotic? When applied to an infection, it doesn’t just adapt to kill the threat, it evolves to kill it! It’s a be-all that really is an end-all. They have a couple of different varieties, but basically one application kills everything and anything intrusive because it continuously adapts and alters itself once it has been introduced into the patient’s body. It’s like a drug with its own brain. That’s how we finally beat cancer, with a hunter that adapts once in the system to kill whatever kind of cancer it happened to encounter. Like that, this Perenorean infection killer is wonderfully egalitarian: it just mutates to wipe out whatever the infection happens to be.” He paused to catch his breath.

  “And that’s not the least of it, Jim. Their discoveries are aesthetically sensitive as well as scientifically groundbreaking. They’re constantly striving to improve their own physical morphology. I’ll mention just one example that they gave me. You’ve noticed that they’re completely covered with body hair, or fur? Well,” he added triumphantly, “they’ve synthesized a simple application that can grow hair! Anywhere on the body, in any color, in any density.”

  Kirk was less than overwhelmed. “That’s great, Bones. I suppose it provides one more point of mutual reference to learn that there’s still another species that worries about matters of individual appearance.” He glanced back as Spock entered the bridge. “We can talk about what you’ve learned later. Right now, we have to prepare for some potentially ticklish diplomatic negotiations.”

  McCoy was contrite. “Sorry, Jim. I just couldn’t contain myself. These people are so full of surprises. You want me to leave?”

  “No. Everyone will know soon enough whether we’ve achieved our aims. Stay. And the SiBoronaans might have some questions relevant to your specialty about the Perenoreans. Whether our contingent of refugees are subject to occasional outbreaks of disease that might have cross-species potential, plagues—that sort of thing.”

  “You mean plagues besides our human failings, Jim?”

  * * *

  “I am Four Amek. It is a pleasure and an honor to greet representatives of the great United Federation of Planets. It has been too long since we have done so.”

  On the bridge, Kirk and his crew listened politely to the formal speech. No one explained that the reason for the extended interval between visits by Starfleet vessels was because there was no compelling reason to make the journey to SiBor. Neither its people nor the world itself held much of interest to the faster-moving culture of the Federation. Kirk carefully studied the image on the viewscreen. The SiBoronaans were a species that was new to him and he used the opportunity to examine the droning diplomat in detail.

  Identical to the majority of its kind, the SiBoronaan envoy was tall and slender, almost reed thin. A
ny suggestion of suppleness was an illusion. The SiBoronaans scuttled along on a flaring mass of thick, strong pseudopods that spread outward in all directions from the base of their bodies like roots from a tree. Though slow moving, they were possessed of great endurance. A race between a SiBoronaan and a human would be a genuine tortoise-and-hare affair, with the human leaving his alien counterpart in the dust only to exhaust himself days later while the patient, indomitable SiBoronaan, whose pace never tired, crept placidly and inexorably past the human’s worn-out and overheated mammalian body.

  The diplomat’s eyes were situated on opposite sides of its head. Able to see in two directions at once like a terrestrial chameleon, a SiBoronaan could create binocular vision by extruding and then folding forward the highly flexible sides of its upper body. Each protruding flap held an eye that could then cross-check its line of sight with that of its companion. There was no need to identify the speaker by gender since the species had none: SiBoronaans reproduced by asexual budding.

  The envoy was clad in a single long, flowing, intricately embroidered purple cloak of some unknown fabric, yet of luxurious consistency and exquisite workmanship. The single flexible tentacle that emerged from a reinforced hole in the center of this material and from the cylindrical body beneath split into four smaller limbs that in turn divided themselves into four still smaller prehensile digits. As the diplomat stood facing its own translator pickup, these multiple limbs were incessantly twisting and writhing among themselves like a quartet of serpentine gymnasts. Finding the pythonic ballet more than a little mesmerizing, Kirk had to remind himself to respond.