Constellations (26 page)

“Yes,” Spock said, his grimace showing what he thought of that name for the world. “Logically, the control signal would be on a subspace frequency in order to circumvent the RF interference. With luck,” he said distractedly as he rose and began to pivot slowly with his tricorder, “I may be able to home in on the source.”

“Jim!” McCoy called.

“What is it, Bones?”

“I think its eyes just moved.”

Kirk knelt down and looked into its eyes. Although they were fixed and unblinking, they did seem to be focused, aware. He leaned closer. “Is anyone there?”

 

Glysinek swiveled her eyes back out of the telepresence hood to look at Nerrieb. “What do I do? There isn't enough power left to work the speech module.”

“Never mind. Wait for our other probes to arrive.” Nerrieb had ordered two of them to converge on Glysinek's probe body as soon as he'd seen the ostensible Yemai trader deploy a scanning device that could not be native to this world. The aliens' evident intention to track down the Redheri control bunker called for intervention. Who knew what their purpose was on this planet? Were they rivals out to jump his claim? Well, he'd just see about that!

Nerrieb waded as quickly as he could through the high-buoyancy fluid that negated this planet's uncomfortable gravity. He nudged Yanslet's carapace with a grasping-arm, signaling him to extricate himself from the telepresence module so Nerrieb could take over the probe personally. The probe's locomotion cycle proceeded automatically during the changeover. Nerrieb climbed out of the fluid, settled himself into the cradle, and found the controls with the ease of long practice: his rear two pairs of flippers to operate the lower limbs, the forward two pairs to puppeteer the face, one grasping-arm for each upper limb, mouth-tendrils to work the fingers. Once he plugged his eyes and olfactory flanges into their receptacles and the contact speakers came to rest against his head segment, it was as though he were actually up there on dry land, inhabiting an ungainly bipedal body whose only similarity to his—and a tenuous one at that—was its sex. Once he got a feel for its walking rhythm, he took it off autopilot and picked up the pace. The HUD overlay indicated that his and Hudalliuc's probe bodies were just moments away from intercepting the unidentified aliens. The battle between the two indigenous groups was still being waged further on, but it seemed to be a safe distance away.

The one called Spock was addressing the ones called Jim and Bones. “…power levels are critically low. I cannot even confirm that the eyes are functional. Or, for that matter, the ears.”

“Well, if anyone knows ears…”

“Bones, enough. So we don't know for sure if they can see us or hear us.”

“We can.” The bipeds whirled as the probes stepped out from the trees onto the beach. “Whoever you are,” Nerrieb told them, “we were here first.”

The one called Jim stepped forward. Nerrieb had spent enough time living as one of these bipeds to recognize the air of command in his body language, not to mention the suspicion. “Spock? More robots?”

Nerrieb saved Spock the trouble. “Yes, we are. At least, these bodies are. I assume you are all living flesh, though you're clearly not from this world.”

The commander took another step forward. “I'm Captain James T. Kirk, representing the United Federation of Planets. My first officer, Mr. Spock, my chief medical officer, Dr. McCoy, and Lieutenant Errgang. And you are?”

“Nerrieb, of the Redheri Trade Consortium.” He had heard of the Federation, though as far as he knew, this was the Redheri's first direct contact with that distant but growing power. Judging from the ranks, these were members of its Starfleet, which considered itself an exploratory body, yet could be the strong arm of the Federation when a reason presented itself.

Kirk frowned. “Redheri. I can't say I'm familiar with the name.”

“We are here as explorers, much like yourselves. But unlike you, we do not resemble this planet's natives, so we must take more elaborate measures to blend in,” he said, making the probe body gesture to itself.

“So your purpose here is…scientific?”

“Commercial, actually. We are advance scouts. Our mission is to prepare this world for contact and admission into the Consortium.”

Kirk's expression didn't seem pleased. “‘Prepare' this world? How?”

Suspicious fellow, wasn't he? “With great care and respect, I assure you. We have no wish to disrupt this planet's native cultures unduly by exposing them to concepts they're unprepared for. Which is the purpose for these telepresence probes. They allow us to pass as natives, integrate ourselves smoothly into the culture. Over the course of years, we study the natives, learn their psychology and values as well as their needs, and tailor a commercial strategy which respects those values and needs.”

“And then…what?” the one called McCoy asked. “How does that make it any easier for them to cope when you reveal the existence of aliens to them?”

“Ahh, that's the other key component of the Redheri contact strategy.” Back in the bunker, he heard Glysinek and Yanslet discussing whether it was wise to spell this out in so much detail. But Nerrieb saw possibilities here. This bipedal form was strangely ubiquitous in the galaxy, so that these Federation people could pass for natives easily, without the difficulty and expense of telepresence probes. If he could recruit them as allies, they could be a positive boon to the Consortium.

“You see, as we live among the local population, observing them and getting to know them, we also subtly introduce the concept of life on other worlds into their public consciousness. We start conversations about the nature of the stars, whether there could be life elsewhere, what could be gained from communicating and trading with such life. Depending on the culture, we may tell campfire stories or songs about beings from the stars, or write speculative essays, or publish works of adventure fiction involving outer space or alien contact.” Nerrieb's mission before this one had involved such a strategy, though he had accomplished it by befriending a local novelist and becoming her muse, providing the ideas while letting her write the words, for her mastery of her language's elaborate literary-poetic style was far better than his. She had been fairly creative on her own, but her stories had tended to portray aliens as ruthless invaders or hidden killers, which didn't suit Redheri needs at all. In fact, he'd adapted the tales from Consortium historical records, but had changed enough specifics so that no species or event was overtly recognizable. Some peoples didn't appreciate being clandestinely observed and influenced prior to contact, so the Redheri took care to make their contacts seem spontaneous and keep mum about their earlier visits, at least until a planet had become comfortably integrated into the Consortium.

“In any case, we take our time, easing these concepts into a culture at its own rate of comfort, or emphasizing concepts that are already present within it. Thus, they become ready for contact at their own pace, and once that readiness is achieved, we reveal ourselves. This way, they gain all the benefits of interstellar trade, while their cultural integrity is preserved.”

The sales pitch didn't seem to be working on Kirk. “You have an odd way of defining ‘cultural integrity.' Of all the cultures on this planet to expose to the idea of space and aliens, you choose one of the simplest, most primitive ones? People who aren't even aware of the full scope of their own world, let alone the galaxy?”

“Indeed,” Spock added. “Surely the Yemai, as the most technologically advanced culture controlling the widest array of resources, would be a more logical trading partner.”

Nerrieb puppeteered the probe's face to reflect his amusement. “The Yemai are too solidly convinced of their own superiority, of the completeness of their belief structure. They're not open to new ideas—certainly not to the knowledge that there are beings more advanced than they are.”

“He has a point there, Captain,” said the one called Errgang. “As humanoids go, they're even more inflexible than most.” Nerrieb found that an odd sentiment from someone who was humanoid herself.

“Besides,” he went on, “they can offer us little that we don't already have the like of. But this archipelago…well, we're here for the same reason the Yemai are, and probably the same reason you are. The healing principle. Yes,” he said in response to their expressions. “It's very real. We've seen it work. These people truly have no illness, heal swiftly from injuries, and have greatly extended life spans. Unfortunately our expedition here is still in its early stages, and we've had little success at penetrating the interference field to scan for its cause.”

“The other Ilaiyens don't know anything?” McCoy asked.

“They think of it simply as a divine force pervading all things, a kind of mystical life essence. They've been of little help.” He moved a bit closer. “But perhaps we could pool our resources to investigate the cause, in exchange for which we'd be willing to share in the development rights.”

“We won't be sharing anything with you, Nerrieb,” Kirk said sharply. “You say you respect these people's culture, but from where I stand, it looks more like you're manipulating their culture to suit your own needs, using trickery to make them more exploitable as customers. And you're doing it to their most innocent and vulnerable members.”

“You speak of trickery—what do you call your own presence here, Kirk?”

“We're here only to observe, to learn. We won't take anything but knowledge, won't try to change these people in any way. Our highest law states that there shall be no interference in the natural development of any pre-warp culture. They must be left alone to develop in their own way, not the way we think they should.”

Nerrieb swiveled his eyes around to exchange a glance with Glysinek.
Can you believe this biped?
“There's nothing natural about being left alone. Cultures don't develop in isolation—they interact with their neighbors, learn and change in response to them. That
is
natural.”

“If the difference in technology is too great, it can overwhelm them, destroy their way of life.”

“Only if no care is taken to preserve it. We respect every culture we deal with. Respect them enough to approach them as equals, rather than infants to be sheltered.”

“Once you've changed them enough to suit your wishes.”

“And what entitles you to be so righteous, Kirk? You interfered directly in the events of this contact. You tried to change it to suit your wishes.”

That silenced Kirk for a moment. “Whatever I did…I did only to save lives. And I seek nothing in return. If Starfleet decides my actions went too far, that I should be held to account for it, I'll accept that judgment.

“But if I have anything to say about it,” he went on, stepping forward, “I'll see that the Federation holds you to account for your actions here.”

Nerrieb reminded himself that he had no cause to be physically intimidated by the large biped's advance. After all, it was only a probe body Kirk was facing down. Nerrieb himself was in a submerged bunker offshore, in no danger from the captain. “You're bluffing,” he said with the confidence that awareness gave him. “Your Federation has no right to interfere in the free trade of the Redheri Consortium.”

“Nobody here has entered into any trade agreement with you yet. And we can make sure they don't, not until a few centuries from now when they're ready. We can make this planet a Federation protectorate, blockade it against intruders.” Oh, dear—he didn't sound like he was bluffing. Nerrieb began to regret being so forthcoming about the Consortium's strategy.

“Captain.” Spock interrupted Kirk's tirade. “Listen. The battle is moving in our direction.”

Indeed, the sounds of shouting and gunfire were coming much closer. The fifth Starfleeter came into view, crying a warning. “Chaane, this way!” Kirk called, then turned to the others. “We need to get this robot out of sight.”

“We can agree on that, at least,” Nerrieb replied, beginning to move his probe closer.

But it was too late—fighters from both contingents began pouring around the rock spur. Some of the islanders turned to see what looked like five Yemai standing over the corpse of one of their own and facing down two more.

Nerrieb seized the opportunity, running over to his “fellow” islanders. “They killed Isinaki!” he told them, manipulating the probe's face to show the appropriate grief and rage. “Quickly, we must kill them now!” He shuddered with distaste at the thought of resorting to violence, but he couldn't risk entangling the Consortium in a conflict with the powerful Federation. That would cost far more lives, and there was no economy in that. Best if one of their captains and his landing party just met with an unfortunate accident at the hands of the natives.

The sight of the fallen “Isinaki” suitably enraged the warriors, and they began to cock their spear-throwers. But just then, one of the Yemai strode forward, staring angrily at Kirk's party. It was the female that his observers had identified as the fleet admiral. “You!” she cried. “I knew you were no better than these savages. Well, now you can die like them!” She raised her rifle.