Legacies

by Greg Cox

  “Don’t look now,” she whispered, “but we’re not alone.”

  She furtively gestured toward the lurking stranger. Yawning, he nonchalantly glanced in that direction and nodded in acknowledgment. Una discreetly signaled the others to draw their sidearms. Duly alerted, the party formed a protective circle, just in case there were more watchers surrounding the team.

  “So much for stealth.” Shimizu glanced around nervously. “Now what?”

  “Lasers on stun only,” Martinez reminded others. Taking out his communicator with his free hand, he looked at Una. “Maybe a strategic beam-out is in order, Lieutenant.”

  Una kept one eye on the blind of ferns, whose mysterious inhabitant had gone completely still. “Not just yet,” she replied. “I’d like to attempt to make contact. Our new friend might have some of the answers we’re looking for.”

  Martinez nodded. “It’s your mission, Lieutenant. But I recommend proceeding with caution.”

  “Duly noted.”

  She activated the universal translator in her pack, hoping that it would suffice in this instance. The ­translator’s ingenious algorithms, which were getting more sophisticated every year and with each new alien species Starfleet encountered, had become increasingly good at overcoming language barriers in first-contact situations. In her experience, it worked with the majority of humanoid species, even those previously unknown to Starfleet.

  “Hello?” she said as mildly as she could. Holstering her laser, and displaying palms to show she was unarmed, she slowly approached the blind, taking care not to make any sudden, aggressive movements. “It’s all right. We just want to meet you.”

  The brush rustled again. Una debated what to do if the watcher fled from her. Should she try to grab them before they got away, or let them escape unhindered? The latter was probably the wisest course, although the former was a lot more tempting.

  Enough questions, she thought. I want answers.

  Her dilemma proved academic as a tiny, camouflaged figure emerged from hiding. Barely more than seventy-five centimeters tall, the watcher was obviously Librosian—and less than fully grown.

  “How about that?” Shimizu sighed in relief. “It’s just a kid.”

  A little boy, in fact, of indeterminate age. He approached them hesitantly, seemingly torn between fear and curiosity, like a skittish fawn that might bolt at any moment. Una froze in place so as not to spook the child, while the rest of the landing party scaled down from their alert posture. They lowered their weapons.

  “It’s okay,” she said, using simple sentences that were easier to translate. “We’re friends. No one will harm you.”

  The boy’s cautious approach gave Una time to get a better look at a Librosian. He had the same jade-green hair as the laborers in the valley, but his was long and unshorn, falling past his shoulders. Green and brown dyes streaked his exposed flesh, providing a greater degree of camouflage in the jungle. A skimpy loincloth, woven from vines and moss and interlacing strips of pliable bark, was his only garment. A polished seed casing hung on a string around his neck.

  Certain deviations from the standard humanoid model were more apparent close up. Most notable were the opposable toes on his bare feet, the better for climbing trees and clinging to the branches. His arms were longer in proportion to his body than was the norm, more like those of a Terran orangutan or a Crellonese gymnast. The evolutionary quirks suggested that the Librosians were primarily an arboreal species, dwelling in the treetops, as theorized by the Federation researchers who had studied the data from the early probes, which made the Newcomers’ deforestation campaign all the more heartbreaking.

  The Librosians were literally being forced to destroy their own habitat.

  Una pushed that distressing realization aside to focus on the little boy, who gaped at the landing party with wide-eyed fascination. She recognized the light behind those bright emerald eyes; it was the same boundless curiosity about the universe and its myriad life-forms that was at the heart of Starfleet.

  “My name is Una,” she said, pointing at herself. “Una.”

  The boy caught on with laudable speed.

  “Gagre.” He pointed at himself. “Gagre?”

  Was that his own name, she wondered, or what the Librosians called themselves? She guessed the former.

  “Gagre?” she addressed him, pointing.

  A grin broke out across his face, displaying small, flat teeth that hinted at a mostly vegetarian diet. The absence of fangs was reassuring, despite her own earlier admonitions about not judging a species by its appearance or phylogeny.

  “Una!” he chanted. “Una! Una! Una!”

  “Looks like you’ve made a friend, Lieutenant,” Martinez said. “Although I’m not sure how valuable he’ll be as a source of information.”

  “Give me time,” she said confidently. “The universal translator allowing.”

  Sometimes the device required a large enough sample of a new language or dialect before it could facilitate communications. So far all they had was one name.

  “Am I the only one wondering where this kid’s parents are?” Shimizu said. “They say you’re not supposed to play with baby grizzlies.”

  “He’s a boy, not a bear,” Una began, only to eat her words as several adult Librosians dropped from the treetops, surrounding the landing party and brandishing primitive weapons crafted from the forest’s natural abundance: wooden spears and throwing sticks, thorn-studded batons, stone hatchets, and simple slings. Breastplates of peeled bark served as armor. Strings of polished seeds and pits adorned both men and women. Camouflage patterns were dyed into their skin.

  “Shalayi copprag mo blaff!” one of the warriors vocalized, before the universal translator kicked in. Although short in stature, he appeared wiry and in his prime. Unlike the others, he wore a carved wooden helmet studded with polished seed casings. A token of leadership, perhaps? “Stay away from our child!”

  “It’s all right.” Una maintained a cool head and tone. “We mean you no harm.”

  She slowly backed away from the boy, encouraged by the fact that, despite their weapons, the adult Librosians had yet to attack. She noticed one particularly distraught woman among the group, who had to be restrained by the others from rushing forward to snatch Gagre. Anxiety was written over her face in a language that required no computer algorithms to interpret. “My baby!” she sobbed. “My baby!”

  Backing away, Una whispered softly to Gagre, “I think your mother wants you.”

  The boy hesitated, perhaps fearing that he was in trouble.

  “Go,” Una urged him. “She’s calling.”

  Her words gave him the push he needed. He headed over to his mother, who tearfully embraced him before retreating behind the other Librosians.

  “No!” he protested, squirming. “I want to see.”

  Una thought she felt the tension lift slightly as the Librosians reclaimed the boy, but the landing party remained surrounded by the warriors, who maintained wary expressions and body language while holding their weapons ready. Not that Una could blame them for being apprehensive and suspicious. We’re the intruders here.

  “You see,” she said. “The boy was merely curious. No harm was done.”

  “Perhaps,” conceded the same warrior, who seemed to be the leader. He let the tip of his spear dip slightly. “Gagre has always been an inquisitive child, lacking in caution. A dangerous quality in these dark times, since the Newcomers arrived to enslave our people and corrupt our world.”

  Una assumed that the universal translator had substituted “Newcomer” for the equivalent Librosian words. She wondered what these people called themselves.

  “We are grateful for your forbearance,” she said, “and restraint.”

  “You carry no weapons,” the leader observed. “We had the advantage.”

  Una realized that the
Librosians had not recognized the party’s laser pistols as weapons, which implied that they were unfamiliar with firearms. Which once again begged the question of how exactly the Newcomers had conquered them and kept them from rebelling. What kind of weapons did the slugs possess?

  Martinez casually holstered his pistol. The rest of the party followed his lead, although he held back and let Una make first contact.

  “My name is Una. What may we call you?”

  “I am Onumes, and I speak for we who are still free.” He examined the landing party quizzically. “You are not like the Newcomers. You look like people. Strange people, but people still. Men and women, who walk on two legs, and do not leave a sickening trail behind them as they spread their slime across the world.”

  It seemed the landing party’s humanoid configuration, compared to the slug-like Newcomers, counted in their favor. Probably just as well that we’re wearing boots, Una thought, so they’re not put off by our general lack of opposable toes.

  “But you are not Usildar.”

  “Usildar,” Una echoed, trying out the unfamiliar name. “Is that what your people are called?”

  “What else? We are the firstborn of our world, Usilde, which once was ours alone. Before the Newcomers came to steal it from us.”

  Una wanted to hear more about that, in a big way, but Onumes required his own answers first. “Who are you and from where do you come?”

  “We belong to a tribe called the Federation,” she said, “and our home is a distant land very far from here.”

  It was a truthful enough explanation, although she left out the part about the Enterprise traveling across the galaxy from entirely different planets. Una doubted that the Librosians—the Usildar, she corrected herself—had mapped or explored their entire planet yet. It was probably easier for them to believe that the Federation was simply somewhere far beyond the horizon.

  “And what brings you to this forsaken land?” Onumes asked.

  “Merely a desire to learn more about your people,” Una said, “and the Newcomers as well.”

  Fury contorted Onumes’s features. He spat angrily upon the ground.

  “They are despoilers, and a plague upon Usilde! They force our brothers and sisters to take part in the ruination of our land . . . and employ their unholy sorcery to unmake those who dare to defy them.”

  So much for the idea that the Usildar were cooperating voluntarily with the Newcomers, Una thought. She supposed it was possible that Onumes was misrepresenting the situation somehow, but everything she was hearing confirmed what she had suspected from the beginning. The Newcomers were invaders and the Usildar their victims.

  “But not you and your companions?” Una asked.

  “We are free but few, almost beneath the Despoilers’ notice. Sanctuary trees shelter and hide us, but for how much longer I cannot say. Every day the great forest shrinks and the unnatural contagion of the Newcomers grows. Even the very air we breathe grows ever more foul and bitter to the taste.” Anger surrendered to sorrow as he shot a rueful look toward the transformed river valley. “Indeed, I fear that we tarry too long so near the enemy’s domain. Better that we go to where we can speak in greater safety.”

  “Fair enough,” Una said. “Where did you have in mind?”

  Onumes lifted his gaze toward the overhanging branches. “Above, where we belong.”

  Naturally, she thought. Judging from their feet, the Usildar probably spent most of their lives in the treetops even before the Newcomers arrived; no surprise that they would feel more comfortable there now that they were in hiding from the invaders. She shrugged. When in Usildar . . .

  Martinez peered up into the branches. “Umm, we may need some assistance there.”

  Onumes looked puzzled. Martinez attempted an explanation.

  “Our people are not the climbers yours are.”

  “Speak for yourself, Commander,” Una said. She had scaled cliffs and mountains and the occasional tree all over the quadrant, including one particularly impressive redwood on Skalhem IV. Approaching the base of a tree, she considered kicking off her boots, but decided against it. She was confident she could manage the ascent fully shod. “I’m game if you are.”

  “Our help is yours,” Onumes volunteered, “if you will trust your care to our hands.”

  “You have given us no reason not to trust you,” Una said without hesitation. “We will be grateful for your assistance.” She swept her gaze over the rest of the landing party. “Hope nobody has a fear of heights.”

  Shimizu shifted uneasily. “Only when there’s gravity involved.”

  “Just pretend you’re in zero g,” Una said. “Sounds like fun, actually.”

  “Don’t get cocky, Lieutenant,” Martinez said, but maybe with a hint of a smirk. “We’re not all fearless, you know.”

  “I’m certain we’ll be in good hands,” Una said.

  “Then let us be on our way,” Onumes declared. Scrambling up the side of an impressively tall tree with remarkable ease, finding purchase in the weathered bark and climbing lianas, he reached down with one leg to offer a helping foot.

  Una stepped forward. “I’ll go first. The rest of you try to keep up.”

  “Don’t worry about us,” Martinez said. “We’ll be right behind you.”

  Shimizu grinned at her. “Always have to be Number One, don’t you?”

  Absolutely, she thought. I wouldn’t know how to be anything else.

  She hurried over to the tree and reached boldly for Onumes’s foot, which gripped her hand with surprising strength and pulled her up after him. Following their leader, the other Usildar also took to the trees, taking the rest of the landing party with them. What transpired next was both exhilarating and occasionally terrifying. The Usildar traversed the jungle canopy as easily and fearlessly as a Peleian magmaphile swam through molten lava, scampering gracefully across narrow branches dozens of meters above the ground, or swinging hand-by-hand or feet-by-feet from one gargantuan tree to another. Often, Una clung to Onumes’s muscular back, but at times she was flung from one Usildar to another, like an old-fashioned trapeze artist. Even as confident as she was in the forest dwellers’ ability to navigate their own environment, she couldn’t help holding her breath whenever she found herself tumbling through the air far above the forest floor, with nothing but leaves and branches to break her fall should a Usildar fail to make their catch. Part of her wished that the planet’s gravity was significantly weaker, even as she wouldn’t have traded the experience for a fortune in dilithium crystals.

  Just don’t look down, she thought.

  She gasped in relief as, at the far end of another death-defying transfer, a strong foot grabbed hold of her outstretched hand. She was half pulled, half carried up and across the canopy until all concerned came to rest high within a closely packed stand of trees that offered plenty of thick branches to sit upon at approximately the same altitude. Dense layers of foliage, both above and below, shielded the company from view, either from the ground or the air. Brightly colored blossoms sprouted amidst wide green leaves. Tangled creepers, wrapped around the tree trunks, offered welcome life-lines to hang on to. Despite the leafy green umbrella above them, it was much hotter and sunnier in the treetops than it had been down below; Una sweated beneath her jacket and uniform. She was going to want a sonic shower if and when she got back to the ship.

  “This is far enough,” Onumes announced. “We may speak safely here, if any place on Usilde is truly safe in these unhappy times.”

  The Usildar deposited the landing party on separate branches facing one another. An adult Usildar stayed close to each member of the party, watching over them carefully. Una wasn’t sure if that was for the Usildar’s own protection or their guests’. Mostly likely a bit of both, she guessed. Glancing around, she spotted Gagre and his mother watching the proceedings from a higher branch across the way
. The female Usildar was holding on tightly to her squirming child, who probably wanted to get even closer to the action. Una winked at him and was rewarded with a mischievous grin.

  Onumes moved from branch to branch, like a host mingling with his guests. He plucked a large scarlet blossom from a flowering air plant and offered it to Una.

  “Drink,” he instructed her. “Refresh yourself.”

  She accepted the flower, which appeared to be some alien variety of bromeliad, and saw that rainwater had collected at its center. Taking a sip, she found that the flower’s nectar had pleasantly flavored the water, making it both sweet and tart at the same time. It was a delectable combination that was just what she needed, given the heat and activity. She could practically taste her electrolytes being replaced.

  “Thank you,” she said. “It’s delicious.”

  The flowers were abundant enough to quench everyone’s thirst, although Martinez recommended scanning the liquid with a tricorder before determining that it was safe. Onumes was taken aback by the precaution at first, but Una managed to convince him that they meant no disrespect. Shimizu and the others helped themselves as well, aside from one suspicious security officer, Griffin, who was apparently still worried about being drugged or poisoned. Shimizu downed his drink in one gulp and smacked his lips. “Things are looking up,” he said, “in more ways than one.”

  Una surveyed the arboreal setting. “Is this your home?”

  “Merely an apt meeting place.” Onumes settled into a crook at a slightly elevated altitude befitting his authority, his back resting against the tree trunk. “Ours is a perilous existence. You will forgive us if we do not trust all our secrets to strangers we have only just met . . . and who resemble no people we have ever seen before.”