By the Book (22 page)

He wanted to run back to the shuttlepod, to burn off some of this jubilant energy, but he did not. He forced himself to follow Fazi protocol.

After all, protocol, as he had told T'Pol, had its uses. So did pattern, and structure, and control. He didn't want to destroy the structured aspect of Fazi culture. He didn't want to drop a bomb in the middle of this city, to use T'Pol's metaphor.

He just wanted to do right by these people, and he hoped that in turn, they would do right by Earth.

This afternoon's meeting was a great first step.

Archer waited until the shuttlepod was far above the central city and the translator devices were off his clothes before letting out a whoop of joy.

Archer hadn't been on the bridge for more than fifteen minutes when T'Pol said, "Captain, I am unclear on the protocol as you described it to me. Is this the point at which I request an audience in your ready room?"

Archer suppressed a smile. He had just conducted the debriefing on his meeting with the Fazi and had turned the discussion to the Hipon's request for the translator devices. Apparently, T'Pol was just about to disagree with something that he'd said.

"I don't know, Subcommander," he said. "Are you planning to say something constructive?"

"I have a criticism."

"Fire," he said.

"I do not know if you will think it will undermine your command."

He shook his head. It was amazing that he could conduct two first contacts with species he had just met when he had trouble communicating with a member of a race he'd known all of his life.

"Subcommander, don't worry about my command. This discussion is free-form. It's the perfect place for an opinion."

"Even one that strongly disagrees with yours?"

"Since I haven't stated mine," he said, "how can you be sure you disagree with me?"

She blinked, surprised at him. He hadn't said his opinion on the topics being discussed. She was making an assumption, which was very unusual for her. Archer had to look away so that she didn't see the twinkle in his eyes.

"Captain," T'Pol said, "I do not believe that we should give the Hipon the translation device."

"Why not?" Hoshi asked. "We put a lot of work into that device, and it can only be used with the Hipon. Why not give it to them? We have no use for it."

"We don't know that," Reed said. "The Hipon are not native to this planet. We might encounter them again."

"Good point," Archer said. He was still watching T'Pol. For once, she looked unsettled. She didn't know where he stood on this issue after all.

"But we have the specs," Hoshi said. "We can always rebuild the device."

"Which is a waste of resources," Trip said. "Even though I agree with you. I think the Hipon would use the device a lot more than we ever will and since we're sending the device's specs to Starfleet, they'll build their own models when they want to open a dialogue with the Hipon."

T'Pol glanced at Archer, who didn't move. He wasn't going to help her in any way on this topic. T'Pol finally turned to answer Hoshi's question, as if no one else had spoken. "Such a device would alter the balance between the two races of this planet."

"So?" Hoshi said. "What's wrong with giving them something to talk with?"

"Because," T'Pol said, "until we came along, the two cultures had no effective method of communicating, and their relationships are based on that."

"Sounds like a bad marriage to me," Trip said.

Archer shook his head and no one on the bridge laughed.

"But, using your crude joke as an example," T'Pol said, "it is still a marriage. We should not interfere."

"The entire Fazi culture seems to have been based on fear of the Hipon," Hoshi said. "I see no harm in giving them a means to calm that fear."

"But to what foreseeable ends?" T'Pol asked. "At the moment the balance between the two cultures is solid and sustainable."

"You believe that one culture living in fear and ignorance of the other is sustainable?" Hoshi asked.

"Yes," T'Pol said. "Until they choose to change it in their own fashion."

"So why not help them?"

"Because it would not be their choice," T'Pol said. "It would be yours."

Hoshi turned white and said nothing.

Archer had to admit that T'Pol had a way of cutting right to the root of every issue. Sometimes in a very painful and deep way.

Archer stared at T'Pol for a moment, and she returned his gaze, calmly and firmly, saying nothing more.

"Trip," Archer said, as he headed for the turbolift, "get a shuttlepod ready, and make sure my suit has the psionic energy protectors installed."

"Yes, sir," Trip said.

"And Hoshi," Archer said, stopping and smiling at his brilliant ensign, "I need you to install the translator in the shuttlepod, and give me a remote mike of some sort to put outside to pick up the Hipon thoughts."

"Inside the shuttlepod, sir?" Hoshi asked. "You're not giving the translator to them?"

"I see no need to," he said.

"What?" Hoshi asked. "You're the one who has been arguing for the sharing of information after a first contact. You're the one who always said the Vulcans never shared enough with us."

Archer nodded, and then turned to T'Pol with an aside. "That was probably a ready room speech," he said softly. "But I'm going to let it go since Hoshi rarely makes a habit of this."

"What?" Hoshi asked.

"I have said all those things," he said to Hoshi, "and I meant them. But we have done everything we can here."

"We can give them the translator."

"Why?" Archer said. "It's designed to help us, not the Fazi. What we've done by inventing this device is show the Hipon that it's possible to communicate with the Fazi without harming them. Since the Hipon have just learned that they caused the Fazi harm, and this knowledge appalls them, they might just decide to build their own version of this translation device."

"But what if they don't?" Hoshi asked.

"Then it's their choice." Archer glanced at T'Pol. She showed no emotion at his decision. He figured that was a good thing, a sign of her approval.

Then he gave her his most impish grin, told his crew to get back to work, and headed for his captain's mess. He could use a full meal before he left on his mission. And maybe a nap.

Captain's log.

The last meeting with the Hipon went well. They seemed to understand my decision to not hand over the translation device. They asked why, and I said I feared disturbing the balance of the two cultures.

The Hipon representative had again commented on the wisdom of humans. I didn't want to disagree, but I sure didn't feel wise. Just relieved that the decision seemed to be the correct one, and that a bungled first contact with the Fazi had led to two different relationships between two new races and Earth.

However, after all the discussions with T'Pol, and her pounding the fact that we have no way to predict the impact of our intrusion into this culture, my biggest fear is that the next time we pass this way, something will have happened and these two cultures will have destroyed each other.

She is right: There is no way to see the consequences of our actions here today. We can only hope that our desire to make contact with new lives and new civilizations does not cause harm.

I've done what I can. I hope when we come this way again we'll find that the two cultures have come to some sort of benign, peaceful, and happy coexistence.

The last thing I want is the blood of an alien race on my hands.

I must trust both the Hipon and the Fazi to do what is best for them and for each other. I cannot let T'Pol's negative example color my vision, or I will never attempt a first contact again.

And that wouldn't be good. Even though this was difficult, I have enjoyed it-and I think ultimately we'll all benefit from our work here.

At least, I'm going to hope so.

Cutler finished the last of her coffee. The mess hall was nearly empty and someone had turned down all of the lights except the one over their traditional table.

The crew was becoming used to the nightly RPG session. Sometimes, at the beginning of her duty shift, her work partners would ask how the game was going.

Mayweather straddled a chair, then rested his head on its back. He looked exhausted. He had flown two missions to the planet and completed a duty shift in the last two days. Apparently flying the Hipon home hadn't been as smooth as Mayweather had hoped.

His environmental suit filter had cut out, leaving him alone with a horrible smell. Even though he had bathed three times since then and a full day had gone buy, he still swore he smelled rotted fish everywhere he went.

Cutler could empathize. She still dreamed of that smell from her short time in the Hipon village. At least it wasn't bad enough in her dreams to prevent her from going to sleep.

"Hey, GM," Anderson said. "The troops are ready."

"You don't plan to die today, do you?" Novakovich asked him.

"I never plan to die," Anderson said. "However, now I'm prepared for it."

"What does Abe say about me in his will?" Mayweather asked. He spoke a little slower than usual, showing his great exhaustion.

"Depends on how heroically you try to save his life," Anderson said.

"Hey," Novakovich said. "Wills are supposed to be written before the adventure starts."

"Abe has a conditional will," Anderson said. "If you're not heroic, you get nothing. If you're slightly heroic, you get something, and if you're really heroic-well, let's hope you don't get to find out."

Cutler smiled.

"I hate it when she smiles like that," Novakovich whispered at Mayweather. "You think she'll smile like that when we actually finish this thing?"

"Are we going to finish it?" Mayweather asked.

"Yeah," Anderson said. "Do these games ever end?"

"I can remember games that went on for years," Cutler said, "back when I was a kid. Depends on how long you want to play, mostly."

"So we may be roaming around this Martian landscape forever?" Mayweather asked.

"Well, that depends on how good you are, and how fast it takes you to find and retrieve all the pieces of the Universal Translator," Cutler said.

"And we haven't even got one part of it yet," Novakovich said, laughing. "So remind us where we're at."

Cutler glanced at her notes. It felt good to get into the rhythm of the game again. For the next few weeks, her work was going to be extremely focused and difficult. She was going to analyze all the information they had on both new species and see what findings she could make before she sent a final report to Starfleet. She was also thinking about writing a scientific paper on the Hipon.

She needed a diversion, and this was a good one.

"Abe has just joined Unk and Rust in one of the buildings. You're not as close to the center of the city as you'd like, but at the moment, you're nowhere near a sky bridge."

"Thank heavens," Anderson said. "I'm getting so averse to bridges I'm not sure I want to see one in real life."

"I'm sure Cutler can find another way for you to die," Novakovich said.

"Let's not tempt her," Anderson said.

Cutler cleared her throat to get their attention. "You need to know something, gentlemen."

"Uh-oh," Mayweather said. "I'm not sure we're going to like this."

"Coming into your building from all sides are Martians."

"The green kind, with sharp pointy teeth?" Anderson asked.

"Those very ones," Cutler said. "It seems that Abe's trek through the debris down on the street attracted the Martians and showed them where you are."

"Oh, that's just great," Mayweather said. "We wait for you and what does it get us?"

"Trapped," Novakovich said.

"Sorry." Anderson actually looked contrite. "After falling from a few bridges, I was trying to take a safer route."

"I don't think there's much safe anywhere with this planet," Mayweather said. "What are our options?"

"You're going to have to fight in any direction you go," Cutler said. "And in a moment a Martian riding a Martian lizard is going to dive-bomb at you through the window."

"Let's shoot it down," Anderson said.

"Should we be listening to him?" Novakovich asked Mayweather.

"I was going to say the same thing," Mayweather said. "Shoot away, boys."

Cutler grinned, then shook the cup. She dumped the bolts on the towel, and counted the red surfaces. "Well," she said. "You shot that one down. But there are more coming."

"We're going to have to do something," Mayweather said. "Are there sky bridges above us?"

"Two," Cutler said, again checking her notes. "But there are Martians coming down the ramps at you and will be on your level shortly."

"How many?" Novakovich asked.

"Twenty," Cutler said.

"Okay, I see our options as this," Mayweather said. "We can go outside to Martians, we can go across the sky bridge into Martians, we go up into a fight with Martians. Can we just fly out the window somehow?"

"Fly? No," Cutler said, but didn't say anything more. No point in giving them too many hints.

"How about we rope down the side of the building?" Mayweather asked. "Is that possible?"

"Yes," Cutler said. "You have rope, but there is a good chance you would have to fight the dive-bombing Martian lizards before you reached the ground."

There was silence for a moment as the players thought.

"This time that you're wasting is allowing them to gather strength and get closer," Cutler said. She was really beginning to enjoy this. Although she was a bit worried. If she killed all of their characters, would the men revolt? Or would they roll up new ones, as Anderson had?

There was only one way to find out.

"Talk about a situation where there are no options," Mayweather said.

"At least none that we can figure out," Novakovich said.

Anderson glanced at the other two players, then directly at Cutler. "There's one option we haven't thought about," he said, "and considering what this ship has just been through, I'm surprised."