She took another step forward and frowned. While she was no engineer and didn’t recognize the schematics the pair were scrutinizing, even a casual glance on her part suggested these were more detailed and elaborate than what one would expect to find in general access.
“Excuse me…,” she began.
On DiBor she had seen that Perenoreans could move fast, but the speed with which one confronted her while the other got behind and between her and the doorway was shocking. It happened so quickly she did not even have time to cry out. They had merely changed position with unexpected speed without any threatening gestures.
The female who now stood before her spoke in the familiar exceptionally polite tones that were a characteristic of her kind.
“Forgive us. We did not mean to alarm you. Our reflex reaction was because you startled us.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to disturb you and I was just on my usual rounds to make sure everything is okay.” Leaning to her right, she managed to peer around the intervening body of the alien. The cabin’s screen had gone dark. “I was wondering what you were studying so intently. It didn’t look local.”
The male had come around to rejoin his companion, leaving access to the door unencumbered. “We were playing.” He made a gesture indicative of humor. “Humans are not the only ones who enjoy amusing themselves. Despite what some of you appear to think, we do not spend all our waking moments asking questions.”
Uhura had to laugh. “I suppose we do tend to look at you all as unrepentant workaholics. What were you playing at—if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Not at all. As Yoronar and I are both engineering specialists, we were entertaining ourselves by redesigning this cabin to better suit the needs of our kind. It was simply a matter of importing templates from the Eparthaa onto your ship. A harmless diversion.” She turned and gestured at the now quiescent unit. “Would you like to see?”
“No, that’s all right. I still have other checks to conclude.” Uhura indicated the portal through which she had entered. “Your doorway was open.”
The male gestured understandingly. “Such openness is in our nature. But we also wish to conform to the mores of our hosts. In the future we will keep it closed.”
“It’s not necessary,” Uhura told them.
“That is good to know,” Yoronar replied without committing either to continued openness or newly respected privacy. “You can proceed on your way without concerning yourself about us, Lieutenant Uhura. We are doing fine and there is nothing that we need.”
The communications officer smiled. “That’s what I expected to hear. It’s what I’ve heard from every one of your colleagues. It’s what I hear from all of you every day.”
The male tried to smile back, but his mouth simply could not manage the necessary muscular contortions. “We would never do anything that would cause you undue stress. The less trouble we can be, the better we will feel about this wonderful gift you are giving us.”
She nodded and bade them goodbye until the next day’s check.
Uhura headed straight for Spock’s cabin.
* * *
“Lieutenant.” A quick glance up and down the corridor showed Spock that it was empty. “Nyota, I do not expect to see you while you are on shift.”
“Are you going to put me on report?”
“Perhaps not on report.” He stepped back into the cabin and she strode past him. The expected kiss that followed as the door to the corridor closed behind them was far briefer and considerably less intense than usual. As he usually had to be the one to break it off, its transitory nature was surprising.
“Something is troubling you.” He sat down on the bed while she took the chair opposite. “I can only hope it has nothing to do with me.”
“No,” she assured him quickly. “It has to do with our guests.”
“I see. My first assumption would be communications difficulties.”
She shook her head. “Not unless you count prevarication as a communications difficulty.”
Immediately interested, he sat up a little straighter. “Intentional? Or possibly a misunderstanding?”
Her tone turned impatient. “If there’s one thing that I, as chief communications officer, have learned about the Perenoreans, it’s that they don’t misunderstand anything. Their speedy mastery of our language continues to amaze me. Even though I’ve requested reports, I haven’t a single case of linguistic confusion. Spock, I just caught two of them in a lie. They tried to cover it up, and they were pretty clever about it, but I didn’t buy it. Although I let them think I did.”
“What kind of lie, Nyota?”
“I walked in on them. The door to their cabin was open. An accident, I have to believe. I caught them studying restricted engineering schematics. I only got a quick look—but they were of the ship’s weapons systems.”
As usual, Spock’s expression did not change. But his tone did. “Access to that area has been forbidden to them.”
Uncertainty colored her response. “I might have been mistaken, Spock. But I’m fairly confident.”
He considered. “Whose cabin have these two been assigned to?”
“Karin Luo-wong.” Her gaze met Spock’s. “She’s a medical orderly.”
“An unlikely subject to have detailed engineering specs.” He rose from the bed. “The Perenoreans have been denied right of entry to the Enterprise’s main computer. They should not have access to any of the ship’s engineering diagrams.”
“What do I do?”
He started toward the door and she followed. “I will discuss the matter with the captain. Meanwhile, I suggest you resume your duties as though you have encountered nothing out of the ordinary.”
She nodded thoughtfully, then smiled and put her arms around his neck. “Aye, aye, sir.”
* * *
Ensign Draper was the fourth member of the crew to report in as sick that morning. If McCoy’s gut was right as to the nature of Draper’s problem…
“Hi, Doc. Sorry to bother you, but…”
The ensign displayed the same hangdog attitude as those who had come before him, McCoy noted. His face showed the same listless, wan expression. The doctor raised a hand.
“Wait. Let me guess. First, what’s your section?”
Though briefly taken aback by the query, Draper responded quickly. “Nourishment and physiological maintenance. I work with Mister Wissell. I’m the primary organizer of the relevant portion of ship’s inventory.”
“Got it—you’re in food prep. I’m going to base a preliminary diagnosis on that.”
Draper stared at him. “But Doc, I haven’t even told you what’s wrong.”
McCoy grunted softly. “Allow me to tell you. I’m going to assume that one of our Perenorean guests has taken a look at your work and figured out a better way to do it, thereby leaving you with nothing to do except ruminate on how your Starfleet specialty has just been made obsolete and you have been practically if not officially downgraded from traditional to outmoded.”
The ensign gaped at McCoy. “How… how did you know that?”
The older man eyed him sourly. “Because you’re the fourth member of the crew to come to me this morning with a nearly identical issue. As a result of some ‘helpful’ Perenorean intervention, you’ve suddenly and unexpectedly found yourself superseded.” He cocked his head sideways as he regarded the ensign. “Or have I got it wrong?”
“That’s not the worst of it, Doc.” Even as he nodded his assent, Draper was clearly struggling with a baffling set of circumstances that had overtaken him with bewildering speed. “It’s that this alien’s process for doing my job is better. I don’t quite understand how he figured it out, but there’s no denying the results. If they’re adopted throughout Starfleet, his suggestions will save time, resources, and effort.” His gaze dropped. “And as a consequence, everyone with my specialty will have to be retrained, if they expect to keep their present rankings. I know it sounds like a good thing,”
he added earnestly. “But…”
“I understand.” Walking over, McCoy put a comforting arm around the distraught ensign’s shoulders. “I’m going to speak to the captain. Maybe these seeming ‘improvements’ really aren’t all that much of an advance on current procedures.”
“But they are, Doctor McCoy. They are. Or at least, they are in my case. I don’t know about what else you’ve been told.” He shrugged, despondent. “I’ve studied the proposed changes and there’s no doubt about it. I’m going to have to retrain or I’ll risk dismissal from Starfleet. I just don’t know how it happened so fast.”
McCoy continued to speak soothingly. “Don’t assume anything. That’s what I told your colleagues. Go back to your duties. Forget about problematical Perenorean suggestions.”
The ensign departed, still downcast but a bit less so than prior to his visit. McCoy watched him leave.
Four cases of acute depression in a single morning. One right after the other, each with a similar cause. He shouted to the nurse on duty, “Ayanda, I’m going to talk with the captain! I want you to notify me immediately if anyone else comes in seeking counseling or treatment for depression.”
“Certainly, Doctor. Anything else?”
Having started out, McCoy now paused. “Yeah. If one of the Perenoreans comes in and offers to show you a better way to do your job, tell ’em… thanks, but no thanks.” With that warning he disappeared out into the main corridor, moving fast and leaving the nurse staring bemusedly in his wake.
* * *
“Are you sure about this, Bones?”
Having turned away from his desk, Kirk faced McCoy in the confines of the captain’s cabin. While not large, it was more than spacious enough to allow the restless doctor ample room to pace back and forth as he declaimed his thesis.
“I’m positive, Jim. Too many instances in too short a time for it to be a coincidence.” Coming to a sharp stop, he eyed his friend and commanding officer. “The Perenoreans are giving the crew, one by one, a severe inferiority complex. This is leading to depression, loginess, and a feeling of uselessness that is not just bad for morale, but it’s downright dangerous. I hardly need tell you that a crewmember who feels that they’ve been rendered obsolete is not one you want to rely on when going into a dangerous situation, much less in battle conditions.” He paused for breath. “And that’s not the worst of it.”
Kirk’s expression never wavered. “What is the worst of it, Bones?”
“I believe this is the same syndrome that’s afflicted the SiBoronaans. We’ve been thinking that because Federation civilization and technology is superior to that of SiBor that we were above that, but I’m starting to get a nagging feeling that we’re not. And keep in mind that I’ve been a booster of the Perenorean cause.” His expression contorted to reveal the internal conflict he was experiencing. “If only they weren’t so damn insistent on being helpful. But I guess they can’t stop themselves. It seems to be ingrained in their being, a critical component of who they are. It’s either a species-wide attribute—or a species-wide defect.”
McCoy’s voice took on an unaccustomed intensity. “Jim, based on what I’m hearing from our despondent crew, the Perenoreans are smarter than we are. Way smarter. Not hostile, oh no. That’s not their way. They may not have a belligerent bone in their multijointed bodies. All they want to do is be useful and show their gratitude. To help us.” He snorted. “If the Perenoreans can do anything and everything better than we can, the human race will just fade away. We’ll give up. Or we’ll become the technological equivalent of manual laborers, serving our Perenorean masters. Nice, friendly, polite, kindly, helpful masters… but masters nonetheless.”
Kirk dubiously eyed his friend. “Isn’t that scenario a bit extreme, Bones?”
“No. There are plenty of precedents. Just look at human history. Whenever a more advanced culture comes along, the lesser one inevitably gets swallowed up or just fades away. Even when that advanced culture is acting out of the most altruistic motives. To ‘civilize’ the natives, or ‘improve their standard of living,’ or ‘bring them the benefits of technology.’ ”
He leaned toward the captain. “That’s what’ll happen to us if the Perenoreans get themselves established on Earth the way they have on SiBor. And the scariest part of the process is that the less-advanced culture usually doesn’t realize what’s happening to it until it’s too late. Because they’re mesmerized by all the wonderful toys and tech the dominant culture bestows on them. Out of a desire to be helpful, of course, and to improve the lives of their poor, benighted ‘friends.’
“I’m not predicting with a certainty that’s what will happen. But based on what I’m hearing from the crew, the possibility is significant enough to make me want to say let’s think this thing through before we start letting ultraclever Perenoreans and their helpful ‘suggestions’ loose on Earth.”
Kirk was clearly torn. McCoy’s turnabout was noteworthy and his passion undeniable—was that reason enough to cause a potentially serious rift with what up until now had been nothing less than a profoundly grateful species? A profoundly helpful species?
The door chime sounded. “Come.” Granted admission, Spock strode into the cabin, halted as soon as he caught sight of McCoy, and curiously eyed the quietly seething doctor.
“Not to trespass on your area of expertise, Doctor, but your rate of respiration appears to be as elevated as your blood pressure.”
McCoy restrained his irritation at the interruption. “What is it, Spock?”
“I have just come from meeting with Lieutenant Uhura.” At this, McCoy made a sound that the science officer chose to ignore. “She reported that she had entered one of the cabins being used by our guests. Though they strenuously denied doing so, it appeared that they had managed to gain access to the ship’s main computer.”
Hearing this, Kirk immediately set McCoy’s concerns aside. “That’s impossible. They don’t have the necessary biometrics to allow it.”
“The lieutenant was positive, Captain. She said that they appeared to be viewing the Enterprise’s engineering schematics. Possibly those relating to ship’s weapons.”
Kirk looked back at McCoy. The doctor’s mouth twisted. “Maybe they’re just preparing to be helpful, Jim.”
Spock’s gaze flicked between the two men. “Is this something I should know about?”
“What is going on here?” Muttering, Kirk swiveled in his chair to face his desk once again. “First, Bones says that the Perenoreans are making a raft of ‘useful’ suggestions that are causing members of the crew to slide into depression. Then he says he believes that they’re smarter than us. Now this.” Raising his voice slightly, he directed his words to the pickup in the desk. “Computer, have the Perenoreans accessed the restricted areas?”
“Negative,” the pleasant synthesized female voice responded without hesitation.
Kirk continued, “Have any of them requested information that has been put off-limits to them; specifically, engineering diagrams?”
“Negative, Captain.”
Swinging around in his chair, Kirk asked, “Well, Spock?”
The science officer looked over at McCoy before turning back to the desk. “If Doctor McCoy is correct, then a clever intelligence aware that it has been banned from accessing the Enterprise’s main library computer would naturally take steps to conceal having done so.” McCoy found himself nodding in agreement as Spock continued. “Either the Perenoreans are ingenious enough to have accomplished such a subterfuge, or Lieutenant Uhura is completely mistaken in her observations.”
McCoy took a step forward. “Can we take that chance, Jim? If they’re accessing our secure files and we don’t even know that they’re doing it, and they’ve managed to hide it from the main computer…” He did not need to finish the thought.
Kirk was thinking hard. “We have only Uhura’s observations to go on. But that’s not enough. I’m not willing to risk a burgeoning relationship with the Perenore
ans. Spock, see if you can fully confirm what Uhura witnessed. The visiting elephant may be gone, but it will have left tracks.” He shifted his attention to the doctor. “Bones, you really think that if the Perenoreans are allowed to move about freely on Earth, they’ll start to take over?”
McCoy chose his words carefully. “I can’t predict anything that apocalyptic for sure, Jim. But one thing I think I can say with some assurance: while on Earth or anywhere else in the Federation, they won’t stop being ‘helpful’ wherever and whenever they can.”
Kirk was visibly unhappy. “Dammit! You can’t fight psychological threats with force.”
Spock gazed stolidly past him, his eyes focused on a blank spot on the far wall. “One might even say, Captain, that in its unique and subtle fashion, this state of affairs is more complex than the Kobayashi Maru simulation.”
Kirk took a moment to study his first officer. “We don’t want to offend the Perenoreans. At least not until we can find a way to confirm or deny Uhura’s observations. Until then, I’m going to order that computer access of any kind to the cabins they’re occupying be locked down. And that from now on, the Perenoreans are to have no contact with the crew and that they be allowed out of their quarters only under close supervision.” He eyed McCoy. “We can make up a story about there being some sort of potentially species-jumping virus active on board.”
The doctor considered a moment, then shook his head. “Masteresque Founoh is too smart to fall for that.”
The Unsettling Stars Page 19