Constellations (27 page)

Kirk and his landing party stood frozen between the two factions. Nerrieb could see the indecision in Kirk's face. He could no doubt call his ship and order an emergency beamout, but that would violate his precious noninterference policy by exposing the natives to knowledge of advanced technology. But if they stayed and let themselves be killed, they would then be discovered as aliens anyway, and their sensor and communication devices would be discovered on their bodies. Which would Kirk choose as the lesser of evils?

But Nerrieb would never know. Suddenly a voice cried out, incredibly loud, as though artificially amplified.
“STOP!!!”

As the echoes subsided, Damala, the island matriarch, strode regally into the war zone. It was her voice he had just heard. Behind her came several other islanders whom Nerrieb recognized after a moment—the ones he'd just seen killed moments before! He was amazed. He'd known the islands' healing power was remarkable, but he'd had no idea it extended this far. He had to make this deal work!

The Yemai were showing equal amazement, for among the group behind Damala were a couple of their crewmen, ones who had been felled by Ilaiyenai spears. Kirk's group was struck speechless as well.

Nerrieb hadn't come as far in the Consortium as he had by failing to recognize the right time to make a move. Now was his chance to get the islanders to attack, before the Starfleeters and Yemai recovered from their shock. He jogged over to Damala. “My Mother, let us strike them now!”

Damala studied the entity that stood before her, imploring her to kill the other interlopers. “We will do nothing of the kind,” she told him. “Certainly not at the bidding of offworlders who come behind false faces.”

The mechanism in the shape of one of the People fell motionless, as though the being whose bidding it obeyed was too shocked to mimic expression. The other offworlders whom he threatened, the ones whose vessel circled above the world, were stunned as well. The seafarers they had come with showed confusion, both at the fact that she had spoken in their own language (or so it seemed to them) and at the meaning of her words.

“Yes. We have known who you were all along. We have indulged your deceit out of amusement, and given you the chance to come forth honestly on your own. But only so long as you attempted no harm. That has changed now, so you are no longer welcome here.”

The offworlder recovered quickly and spoke again through the false Person. “My Mother, we only—”

“Do not call me that.”

“Very well. Matriarch Damala, we are here only as peaceful traders, seeking the betterment of your people. We only came here clandestinely so that we could learn to understand you and better serve your needs. These others,” and his machine gestured to the other offworlders, “they wish to interfere with that, to keep you deprived and ignorant.”

“That is not so. We have seen peaceful trade before, and this is not it.” She smiled. “As for ignorance, Nerrieb of the Redheri Trade Consortium, it is not we who suffer from it.”

“Fascinating.” It was the one from the star vessel, the one who concealed his pointed ears under a head cloth. “If I may ask, Matriarch, how is it that you are aware of their identity?”

“The same way we are aware of yours, First Officer Spock of the
Enterprise.
” She shook her head. “Your peoples are both so young, so new to the stars, and like all children you assume you have all the answers. But there are more answers to be had, if you would only ask. You, at least, have shown that courtesy, so I shall give you those answers.

“You are not the first offworlders to come to our islands. Those came many generations ago, over a thousand cycles of the seasons, and have returned from time to time. They came to us openly, as honest neighbors. They traded freely and fairly, offering us only what we wished to take, and making no assumptions about how we should live or what we should not know.”

“A thousand years?” Nerrieb asked. “But…we've seen no evidence, no sign of advanced technology.”

“Because we wanted nothing that would be seen. Look around you. We have the sea, the forest, the land, and the sky. And we have one another. Our benefactors showed us their vessels, took some of us to visit their worlds, and we saw nothing there as beautiful, as pure, as holy as our sea, our forest, our land, our sky. We had no wish to live in metal boxes, or tire our fingers pushing glowing beads, or fly through the frigid emptiness between the stars. We had no wish to give up the traditions passed down by our foremothers. So we traded only for those tools that we would not need to see—tiny machines that could be a part of the places and things we loved, instead of replacing them.”

“Nanotechnology,” Spock interpreted. “Yes, that would explain the pervasive interference. It must be the energy emissions and communication frequencies of trillions of microscopic nanites, pervading the entire island. They would be part of the soil, the water…even integrated into the food the Ilaiyenai eat, into their own bodies.”

“The miraculous healing power of the islands,” Kirk realized. “This nanotechnology, it keeps you healthy. Heals your injuries, even…brings back the dead?”

“If they have only recently stopped breathing, and if their injuries are not too severe. And if they die from violence rather than age.”

“With this kind of power…you could have conquered this entire world.”

Damala laughed. “Why should we? As I said, no other place is as beautiful as this. We have our islands, and we have our gifts from the stars. We need nothing more.”

“Have you no curiosity? No need to explore?”

“We have our benefactors for that. We still converse with them from time to time, sending our voices through the realm you call subspace. Their gifts in our bodies let us see and hear the images they send us like waking dreams. I have witnessed stars being born, planets colliding, wondrous beings performing great songs and dances. I have traded tales and discussed the meaning of existence with beings from a dozen different worlds. All while still being surrounded by my home, my clan, and my foremothers' ashes. As I said—we have all we need right here.”

“All right, that's enough!” The Yemai admiral had finally run out of patience. She strode forward, brandishing her weapon. The
Enterprise
party, no longer attempting concealment, drew their own small, boxlike weapons in defense. “I don't know what fantasies you people are talking about. You may be speaking my language, but you're still talking gibberish. But one thing I do know: those people were dead moments ago, and now they're healed. However you did it, I want that. You will show me what it is so I can take it back to civilization.”

Damala shook her head. “I am sorry. You are not yet ready.”

“Let me rephrase.” Deyin raised the weapon, aiming it at one of Damala's husbands. “You will show me, even if I have to kill people in order to force you to bring them back.”

“No. Your violence blasphemes against the island.” Damala sent a prayer—the offworlders would no doubt call it a “command”—through the nanites that united her body with her home and all that it contained. A moment later, all the weapons held by the Yemai and the
Enterprise
party began to dissolve in their hands, leading them to drop them in alarm.

“This is growing tiresome,” Damala said. “We do not like to use these powers without great need. They disrupt the purity of our lives. The longer you all stay, the greater the disruption. You will leave now—all of you.”

Kirk stepped forward. “Matriarch…my people meant no harm. We wished only to learn from you.”

“I appreciate that. But it is selfish to seek to take knowledge and offer none in return. You will go now. In time, you may come back—in a few generations, perhaps, when you are ready to come openly as friends.”

Theresa Errgang's eyes followed James Kirk as he stepped down from the transporter platform. Behind the console, Mr. Scott was staring at him, still confused by the captain's order to have the landing party beamed up while in the midst of a group of Niobeans. “Sir? What happened down there?”

“We'll explain at the postmission briefing, Mr. Scott. As soon as we figure it out ourselves. Right now I think we should get to sickbay and get these prosthetics off. I've been dying to scratch my nose for days now.”

“And we should all get a thorough check for any nanites we might've picked up,” McCoy added. “Maybe they're good for the Ilaiyens, but away from their proper environment and control signals, who knows what they're capable of?”

“Right. All landing party members are to report to sickbay immediately.”

Spock and McCoy followed him into the corridor, with Errgang trailing closely enough to listen, and Chaane bringing up the rear. “I am unsure what there is to ‘figure out,' Captain,” Spock said. “The matriarch did explain the situation very clearly, allowing for the vagaries of figurative language.”

“The
facts
of the situation, yes. But what it
means,
Spock…” Kirk broke off, shook his head. “This was…a humbling experience. We were so certain the islanders were like helpless children, needing our protection. But we were jumping to a conclusion based on the way of life they've chosen. It turns out they're really a thousand years more advanced than we are.”

“I do not believe such a chronological comparison is valid, sir. True, they have made use of technology beyond our own, but they have remained static all that time. They have not progressed.”

“But they haven't
needed
to,” McCoy countered. “Is that really such a bad thing? They managed to achieve a highly advanced way of life without giving up any of their old ways. Without cutting down forests or damming rivers or poisoning the air. They bypassed all the struggles we had to go through—and managed to hold on to a lot that we've lost.”

“Only by borrowing technology from a people who presumably did go through such struggles.”

“That's what really gets me,” Kirk said. “A thousand years ago, these people leading a simple, tribal existence were visited by aliens far more advanced than they were. And contrary to all our expectations, our assumptions, that contact didn't destroy their way of life. If anything, it simply enabled them to become more true to that way of life, to defend it from interference.”

He paused, gathering his thoughts. “We have the Prime Directive because we've seen what happens when an advanced culture aggressively tries to impose its values on a simpler one. But maybe we're too quick to assume that
any
such contact is automatically destructive. That just being exposed to new ideas, new technologies will be too much for a ‘primitive' culture to handle. Are we being condescending, assuming those cultures are too weak to adapt, just because they're younger than ours?”

McCoy was thoughtful. “When you put it that way, maybe it is condescending. If anything, younger minds tend to have an easier time coping with new ideas—because they know they still have plenty left to learn. So maybe…maybe you
can
make open contact with a less-developed culture, share your knowledge and technology with them, and do it in a way that preserves their own values, their way of life. Whoever it is that traded with the Ilaiyens, they seem to have pulled it off.” He shook his head. “But I don't know if humans are mature enough to find that balance. It isn't that long since we were conquering each other, tryin' to wipe out any beliefs we didn't agree with. Even today, we still get the occasional Ronald Tracey.