The Unsettling Stars

by Alan Dean Foster

  “It is our hope that in return for this gift not only will your people prove to be good neighbors, but that you will show us how to develop such resources and to improve our own technologies. We have the numbers, you have the knowledge.” Now the eye flaps moved so that both oculars were focused on Kirk and his companions.

  “We did receive some instructions from the Federation, and for this we are grateful. But the distances between SiBor and the nearest Federation worlds are considerable, and even at the warp speeds of which vessels such as the Enterprise are capable, it takes time. Having even a few representatives of a more advanced species so close to SiBor will allow for an easier and speedier exchange of materials and instruction.” Once again the staff moved.

  “So you see, Taell of the Perenoreans, we of SiBor are not entirely altruistic in this matter. We have selfish reasons for allowing your people to settle here.”

  “We will do our best to satisfy them,” Taell assured his taller host. “Besides the acquisition of new knowledge, the Perenoreans like nothing better than freely sharing what we know with others.” He bent forward again. It was not quite a bow. The gesture was far more fluid and relaxed than any human could have managed.

  Two Wuvemm did not bow in return. Restrained by its species’ equivalent of what in a human would be a fused spine, a forward-inclining SiBoronaan would simply fall over on its face. Instead, clutching the ceremonial staff tightly with every digit, Wuvemm held it parallel to the floor as his eye flaps tilted upward. Gazing at the ceiling, he recited something swift, brusque, and unintelligible, a kind of musical cackle. Whether prayer, resolution, request to the gods, or formal diplomatic language Kirk could not tell because his translator was unable to untangle the syntactic intricacies of the swiftly paced declamation.

  Noting the captain’s confusion, Uhura edged closer. “The representative is speaking in an elaborate departure from the common contemporary SiBoronaan tongue, sir. Possibly an archaic variant. The linguistic logarithms necessary to process a proper translation are not in my database.”

  “We’ll request a proper translation later.” Pulling out his communicator, Kirk whispered into it while trying not to appear too obvious about what he was doing. “Mister Scott, we’re recording the proceedings down here but are you getting all of this?”

  The engineer’s voice whispered back at him. “Aye, Captain. The channels you’ve ordered held open are picking up auditory loud and clear.”

  “Thank you, Mister Scott. Kirk out.”

  Though the meeting between the Starfleet delegation, the Perenoreans, and the SiBoronaans was nonbelligerent, it was always good to know that everything was being filed away in the Enterprise’s library computer as well as by the tricorders on the ground. That way, if any kind of disagreement about what had been said should arise, there would be a record of everything. With all recording being duplicated directly aboard the ship, there would be no uncomfortable surprises awaiting future diplomats.

  Not that Kirk anticipated any difficulties. If anything, the negotiations and exchanges of greetings were going exceptionally well.

  “All are in agreement, then,” Wuvemm declared when the unintelligible invocation had been concluded. “The ill-fated refugees on board the Eparthaa will be allowed to settle wherever they wish on DiBor, and in return they will assist the people of SiBor in advancing their technology and base of knowledge. It is done!”

  A sound like a million crickets all complaining at once filled the great hall. A questioning look on his face, Kirk leaned slightly in Uhura’s direction.

  “They’re cheering, Captain.”

  He nodded. That was a relief.

  Wuvemm was not quite finished, however. “I say here and now that there will be peace and friendship forever between our new neighbors and the people of SiBor. Any future disagreements will be mediated as between friends. And should we be unable to reach agreement on a matter of disputation, the Federation will assure the integrity and well-being of SiBor.”

  Uh-oh, Kirk thought, remembering what Spock had told him. They could represent the Federation in these negotiations, but they could not offer ultimate guarantees. That authority rested with the government back on Earth. As captain of a starship he could oversee treaties and agreements, but he could not offer the full weight of the Federation behind them until they were ratified by the government.

  Spock stepped forward.

  “While sympathetic to the plight of all refugees, the United Federation of Planets must review each situation in order to be able to respond accordingly. As a member of a refugee race, I am familiar with the accord that has been reached. I can therefore assure the government of SiBor that all necessary steps will be taken to ensure that the peace and tranquillity that exists will be maintained.”

  Kirk marveled at the science officer’s ability to handle the situation without actually promising anything. What was important was that his translated words appeared to satisfy the SiBoronaan delegation. It took the ability of a natural diplomat to speak logically and clearly while saying nothing. Sarek would have been proud.

  At a gesture from Wuvemm, two more SiBoronaans scuttled forward. “These are Nine Omurt and Twenty-five Yelerik. They will accompany you to DiBor, both to formally record the presentation of whatever territory will be selected for the purposes of settlement and to offer what assistance they can. Although we have not colonized DiBor or any of our moons, we have studied them for many hundreds of cycles.” The diplomat pivoted to face Taell. “If you will provide details as to your physiology and its needs, they can recommend the most efficacious places for you to settle. Once you have chosen a site, both our people will assist in the setting up of your new home.”

  Taell’s right hand flexed in what Kirk had come to recognize as a gesture of understanding. “As a proper colonial expedition, we are prepared to establish ourselves on our own and through utilization of the resources we bring with us, but we welcome any additional help from our new benefactors, the SiBoronaans. We give thanks in advance for even the slightest assistance.”

  McCoy leaned toward Kirk. “Thanking-est people I ever saw. You’d almost think they were from the South.”

  “South what, Doctor?” inquired a curious science officer.

  McCoy sighed. “It’s a human geocultural reference, Spock. I was just saying that the Perenoreans are an exceptionally grateful and polite species.”

  “Indeed they are,” Spock agreed. “One would almost think them excessively so, if not for the numerous indications that their gratitude is entirely genuine.”

  “Then we’ve done a good thing here.” Kirk looked on as Two Wuvemm and Leaderesque Taell exchanged quiet conversation. “We’ve helped refugees representing a previously unknown sentient species, and in turn we’ve brought a steady stream of advanced assistance to another. All good.”

  “You are forgetting the Dre’kalak, Captain,” Spock pointed out. “I believe they would disagree.”

  “Yeah, well, they took something away from this, too. The knowledge that the Federation is not to be messed with. They came and went angry at the Perenoreans for some reason, not at us.”

  “That is true.” Spock likewise turned his attention to the ongoing discussion that was taking place between the SiBoronaan and Perenorean leaders. As had everything else up to this point, it appeared to be going well. “Even so, the warning left by the departing Dre’kalak seemed to have been made in deadly earnest. It is illogical. I see little to fear from the Perenoreans. Unless it is more artfully concealed than we are able to detect, their ship is equipped with defensive weaponry only. They have not given any evidence of possessing even personal sidearms. To all outward intents and purposes, they are exactly what they claim to be: innocent colonists made refugees by misdirection and instrument failure who were forced to flee for their very lives.”

  Kirk was eminently satisfied with how things had turned out. “We’ll escort them to DiBor and see to it that they get transferred safely to the
surface. Any further help will have to come from the SiBoronaans, though once Starfleet has received my full report, I’m sure they’ll want to send out a formal delegation to cement the new relationship.”

  The science officer stiffened. “Such consequences had not entered my mind, Captain. As a member of a refugee group, the opportunity to aid another party of similarly disadvantaged sentients is all the recompense I require.”

  Kirk grunted. “Well, it still won’t hurt to have this on your record. A couple more like this and you’ll probably be offered your own command.”

  “As you say, Captain.” As usual, the science officer’s perfectly neutral tone revealed nothing of what else he might be thinking.

  7

  The true extent of SiBoronaan generosity was confirmed when Kirk, Spock, and McCoy beamed down to the surface of DiBor. The planet-sized moon was lush with a huge variety of quasi-coniferous growths and native fauna. Unsurprisingly, much of it was related to the indigenous life-forms found on nearby SiBor. Multilegged ruminants grazed peacefully in great pinkish-brown herds on low rolling plains carpeted with thick-bodied grass-like plants. The Perenoreans were delighted to discover that these parted down the middle of their four-sided stems as neatly as if zippered to reveal a host of tasty and nourishing square-shaped seeds inside. Subsisting generally on a diet of supplements and elaborate synthesized dishes, veganism was yet another important characteristic the settlers shared with their SiBoronaan benefactors.

  Turning his gaze back from the distant line of high hills that lay beyond a lazily winding river, McCoy watched from a low rise as energetic Perenoreans began to unfold extensive shelters that had been unloaded from the Eparthaa’s shuttles. As ship’s doctor, he was especially sensitive to matters of diet. The fact that the colonists shared a similar nutritional philosophy as their hosts had not escaped him. It was hardly unique in his experience. The three men started down the gentle slope toward the site that had been chosen for the new settlement.

  “I sometimes wonder, Jim, if humans are among the last sentient species to raise and slaughter other animals for food.” He glanced over at the science officer. “Didn’t Vulcans used to eat meat, long ago?”

  “We are omnivorous, as are humans. The decision to cease consuming animal flesh was both a cultural and a practical one. Cultural because our ancestors gradually came to realize that the killing of another creature for food went against all that our civilization was becoming, and practical because on a desert planet like Vulcan… was… the amount of energy and resources required to raise livestock was far greater than what was required to produce the same amount of nutrients in plant form.” As if to emphasize what he was saying, he was careful to step over a red-stemmed plant atop whose pale mauve blossoms several small brightly colored arthropods could be seen feeding. “Were it possible to do so, we would prefer, philosophically, not even to have to destroy plant life and survive entirely on synthetics. However, we have not yet mastered the necessary nutritional science to permit this.”

  “But you could still eat meat if you had to,” Kirk challenged him.

  “Yes. Our digestive systems are still genetically coded to tolerate the intake. It is our ethics that would be damaged.”

  Kirk was shaking his head as he kept pace with his first officer. “Come on now, Spock. Didn’t I read somewhere that Vulcans enjoy seafood?”

  “It is true that the purely vegetarian and synthetics diet I have just described is not universal among my people. I confess that I often wonder about tasting such things myself, though I have restrained myself. I suppose that by way of an experiment I could request that the ship’s food synthesizer prepare fish.”

  “If you’re going to ‘experiment,’ ” McCoy suggested, “try lobster.” He smacked his lips. “Although as far as I’m concerned no synthesizer, no matter how advanced, can duplicate the real thing. And we won’t even discuss barbecue. ‘Barbecue’ and ‘synthesized’ are two words that should never appear in the same sentence together. Or in the same galaxy.”

  “I am aware of the terrestrial crustacean to which you refer, Doctor, but I am afraid any such experiment on my part will have to proceed in a different direction.”

  McCoy made a face. “What’s stopping you, Spock?” He grinned. “The mental picture making you queasy?”

  “No, Doctor. It is the fact that the ocean-dwelling creature to which you refer reminds me entirely too much of a certain diplomat I’ve met. Who, needless to say, I cannot envision eating.”

  Kirk chimed in. “One of these days we’re liable to run into an intelligent species that through convergent evolution has developed to look like your basic farm animal.” He looked over at McCoy. “Imagine the delicate diplomatic dance that would arise if that happened.”

  The doctor shrugged and nodded toward the horizon. “Damn shame. Lot of meat on the hoof here that’s going to go to waste.”

  Spock’s tone was reproving. “The ‘meat on the hoof’ would doubtless hold to a different opinion on that, Doctor.”

  For the site of their initial settlement, the Perenoreans had selected a bluff that protruded into and partly created a bend in the river. With grassy plains behind them and dense native forest on the opposite bank, it offered excellent prospects for development as well as a permanent water source. DiBor’s gravity being slightly less than that of either SiBor or the Perenorean homeworld, everyone was able to move about and work with ease and efficiency, and for longer periods of time than would normally have been the case. The enhanced feeling of health and well-being extended to the visitors from the Enterprise as well.

  Additional supplies and assistance had also begun to arrive in the form of promised local aid. Disgorging supplies and equipment from their cargo bays, several bulky SiBoronaan shuttles were visible off to the south of the settlement site. SiBoronaan spacecraft were only adequate for exploring their own solar system, but they were more than up to the task of bringing in prepared building materials and other goods from the home planet that could be used to boost the growth of the burgeoning Perenorean colony. Parked beside the settlers’ far sleeker and more advanced shuttlecraft they looked like so many old-style football linemen squatting among gymnasts.

  As they wandered through the construction site, the Enterprise officers could not help but notice the ease with which the bipedal Perenoreans and the monopole-multipodal SiBoronaans worked side by side.

  “This is going better than anyone could have hoped.” McCoy couldn’t keep a smile from his face nor a touch of satisfaction from his voice as they walked between newly erected living quarters and other structures that were rising with admirable speed. “Look over there.”

  A trio of slender SiBoronaans was assisting a single Perenorean in setting water lines. The tubing emerged in a continuous flow from a single large, nearly silent mechanism. The process involved no welds, rivets, or fasteners of any kind. The comparative silence as well as the absence of any visible connectors linking lengths of tubing was what tipped the three officers to the fact that the device was one that the Perenoreans had brought with them on the Eparthaa and was not one that had been provided by their agreeable but less technologically sophisticated hosts.

  “Truly as gratifying an example of interspecies cooperation as any we have seen, Doctor,” Spock commented. “But…”

  McCoy sighed. “What is it this time?”

  The science officer wore a pensive look as he continued to observe the cooperative effort. “First, the machine that is doing the work is of Perenorean origin, though the raw materials may have been supplied by the SiBoronaans. Second, if you look carefully you will see that the SiBoronaans appear to be having some difficulty keeping up with the pace of the work. The Perenorean is repeatedly having to pause to explain some aspect of the process to them.”

  McCoy was unmoved. “The Perenoreans come from a more advanced civilization. It’s only natural that there are certain aspects of their technology that will take some time to explain to the l
ocals. You’ll note that they don’t appear to be holding anything back, or trying to keep any secrets from the SiBoronaans.” With a sweep of one arm he took in their busy surroundings. “Everywhere we’ve been we see them giving freely of their knowledge to their new friends.”

  “Anything else, Spock?” Kirk asked curiously.

  The science officer gestured in the direction of the ongoing hydraulic project. “The Perenorean supervising the work is not a diplomat or linguist, yet she seems to be conversing effortlessly with the SiBoronaans in their own language. I can detect no evidence that translation equipment is in use.”

  “So?” the always argumentative McCoy replied.

  Spock continued to study the ongoing installation effort as he spoke. “It is surprising that someone as busy and burdened with other responsibilities as Leaderesque Taell would have the time to master even a small part of the local language prior to the ceremony. It is more understandable that a Perenorean linguistics specialist might manage it.” He looked at the continuing work. “But to see that a Perenorean mechanical engineer has also been able to do so strikes me as quite remarkable.”

  Still McCoy refused to give ground. “Uhura said they might be natural linguists. What about it?”

  “I am constructing a thesis, Doctor.” For a second time Spock pointed at the work taking place in front of them. “This is but another piece of data.”

  “What is your theory, Spock?” Kirk asked him as they resumed their walk through the settlement site.

  “Captain, I do not yet have enough data sets to lay out my theory.”

  “I hope we won’t have to wait too long.” McCoy smiled pleasantly.

  Spock eyed him imperturbably. “If it turns out to be anything like I think it may, Doctor, you will be interested in the final result.”

  That prompted a shift in McCoy’s attitude, but despite being pressed to elaborate, Spock would say no more.

  Another piece of the data manifested itself later that afternoon. Having consumed the simple but nourishing lunch of concentrates they had brought with them, the three officers had descended from the bluff on which the settlement was being constructed in order to stroll along the pleasant river beach. The mix of sand and gravel hinted at the presence beneath the flowing water of something akin to a freshwater coral. Kneeling, Spock scooped up a sample of the fine-grained pink and yellow grit and placed it in an empty concentrate container for safekeeping.