This brought a sidelong glare from McCoy, who, unlike the others, was clad informally in a white short-sleeved medical tunic. “And here I thought you’d finally started to understand emotion,” he said. “It’s hard to be logical when you’re faced with deprivation and overcrowding, cut off from sunlight and fresh air day after day for years on end.”
“I do now appreciate that logic alone is insufficient,” Spock said, sounding oddly casual about the profound epiphany his recent mind-meld with V’Ger had brought him. “But it is still useful, especially in situations wherein the indulgence of emotion can lead only to increased frustration rather than productive change. What the Payav need is patience and discipline.”
“Well, nobody outside of Vulcan ever won over the masses by appealing to their reason. And I have my doubts about Vulcan.”
“I fear Dr. McCoy is right,” Theena said. “Tensions are running high, and the mar-Atyya and Payavist factions are winning over the people with their appeals to faith, tradition, and purity.” She shook her head.
“The mar-Atyya have become much more militant since the Pulse. They always taught that Mestiko was specially blessed by God. But after the Pulse and the Klingons… the terrors inflicted on our world from outside… they came to conclude that not only was Mestiko blessed, but the rest of the universe was cursed. They condemn anything from outside as evil, and more and more of the people are willing to believe them. Or at least ready to try something different, feeling the Zamestaad’s policies are accomplishing too little.”
“And that’s why Raya sent you instead of contacting me openly,” Kirk said. “She’s weak enough politically already, without making it look like she’s calling for alien help.”
“Exactly.” Theena’s brow furrowed, though she had no eyebrows to move with it. “Her stature has never fully recovered since the Alur scandal. It has been a struggle to balance her support for the eco-restoration program with her efforts to avoid alienating the people further. Dr. Lon condemned her ‘politically motivated’ limits on his efforts, but if she had not taken those actions, she probably would have been deposed and replaced with someone openly hostile to the program.”
“But what’s the alternative?” McCoy asked. “Do they really think the planet can regenerate on its own? That whole extinct biomes can somehow magically regenerate themselves?”
“The mar-Atyya have advanced what they call a ‘purity-based’ program of restoration. It uses only those indigenous plants and animals that have survived the Pulse and encourages a traditionalist lifestyle as laid out in their holy texts. They argue that living in this way will demand little of the ecosystem and help regenerate it, and that purging it of alien elements is necessary to restore its proper balance and vitality.”
McCoy scoffed. “Superstition and quackery.”
“Yes,” Theena said, “but with enough real science dressing it up to make it sound credible. And it appeals to the rank and file of Payav far more than the idea of importing alien plants and animals to replace extinct native forms.”
Kirk leaned forward. “Tell me, Theena… if there’s so much anti-alien sentiment on Mestiko, what does Raya believe I can accomplish there?”
Theena smiled. “You still have your supporters on Mestiko, Captain. Raya is not the only one who remembers how you have helped our world. The mar-Atyya’s coalition may be gaining ground in the war over public opinion, but the other side is still fighting, and Raya believes you could strengthen them by lending your voice. You do have quite a reputation for saving worlds.”
Kirk tried not to fidget. He was still embarrassed by the reputation he’d gained after muddling his way through the V’Ger encounter, but he was beginning to understand it was a tool he could wield to his advantage. “Still, that reputation could backfire. You heard the insinuations that Kotyar woman made.”
“Even so, Raya feels another cool head on the scene could aid matters. An upheaval may be imminent whether you come or not, Captain, but if you are there, you may find a way to help us, as you have before.”
He studied her. “Even though Raya can’t publicly admit she wants my help.”
Theena shrugged. “Politics.”
Kirk sighed. “I know all about politics. Why do you think I went back to starship command?”
Mestiko
“You’ve been avoiding me, Jo’Zamestaad.”
Raya elMora winced as the familiar voice called out from down the corridor behind her, accompanied by heavy footfalls as the speaker hastened to catch up. Smoothing her features, Raya turned to greet her pursuer. “Not at all, Asal. I’ve simply been too busy—”
“Don’t try to sandstorm me, Raya,” Asal Janto said.
“I can tell when you’re trying to dodge an undesirable encounter. Remember how you made me change clothes with you in the bushes outside our dorm so you could sneak away from Hodi orManat? I could barely fit into your things, I was so embarrassed trying to race back inside!” Asal’s jowls shook as she laughed. In these times of scarcity, the councillor from Domtos was no longer as chubby as she’d been in their university days, so her skin hung a bit loose. As a member of the Zamestaad, however, she was still able to keep herself fairly well fed.
Raya didn’t share in her jocularity, however. “I’d rather you didn’t invoke our past friendship, Councillor, considering the agenda you’re no doubt here to advance.”
Asal’s expression hardened. “You make it sound as though I’m the one who betrayed you. I never made deals with any Klingons.”
“You know that’s not fair! I didn’t know Alur was—”
“And once you found out, you said nothing!”
“Until I could be sure it would be safe!”
“To protect your own interests!”
“To preserve the goal of restoring our world! We can’t let that fall prey to petty ambitions.”
Asal shook her head. “The words are like the Raya I knew, but the commitment is not there. You used to be so strong, so determined not to compromise. When we rallied for the environment, you were right there at my side.”
“That is still my commitment!” Raya exclaimed, stepping closer to loom over her former friend. “My goal is unchanged. But unlike you, I am able to see that achieving a goal requires the willingness to change one’s methods. I’ve learned that sometimes you cannot reach the destination by the path you assumed and must find another way. You still think you can blindly barrel forward and triumph on ideological purity alone.”
“Don’t underrate purity, Raya. Purity is what the people want. They want our world restored to what it was, and they want our people in charge of making it so. You obstruct that will at your peril.”
“I share that ideal, Asal. I have made every possible concession I can safely make to it without jeopardizing the effectiveness of the project.”
“And whose judgment of that effectiveness are you going by? That human Dr. Lon? Those Kazarite brutes? Is it me, or does each new wave of aliens get more unnatural?”
Raya suppressed her own instinctive reaction to the mention of the Kazarites, knowing it was impolitic and parochial. “The Kazarites… take some adjusting to. But their services are useful. They and Dr. Lon have already made remarkable strides.”
“At turning our world into a zoo for their castoff creatures. And meanwhile, they have done nothing to support our plans for a global radiation shield.”
Raya sighed. So that was where she was going with this. “Your plans, Councillor. Fortunately, the majority of the Zamestaad does not share your priorities.”
“The people do! Listen to them, and you will hear them demanding protection in case the Pulse should happen again!”
“It never will!” Raya insisted. “The Scourer is leaving our system and will not come back. We have surveyed the skies for light-years around and found nothing approaching us. Nothing like the Pulse has happened before to any known world. It would be a criminal waste of our resources to put them into a defense against a threat th
at will never come again!”
“So they say,” Asal countered. “All you have is the Dinpayav’s word that it hasn’t happened elsewhere. And they were as surprised as we were when it happened here!” She shook her head. “You place too much faith in the aliens’ wisdom, Raya. You always assume the fact that they’ve been in space for a grossyear or two longer than we makes them so much wiser in all things.”
“Our own scientists confirm it, Asal. You know that.”
“And our scientists did not see the Pulse coming, either. What I know—what the people know—is that the universe is unpredictable, and we must be ready.”
“What is the point of being ready for a threat from outside when our world is still dying from within? Let us make sure we have air to breathe and food to eat first! Then we can debate what protection we need.”
“What is the point of restoring our world to health if we don’t know it will be here a generation from now?”
“We know.”
“The people don’t, Raya. They want assurances.”
Raya made herself relax and speak more softly. “Of course they do. They’re afraid. We all are. But sometimes it’s more important to give the people what they need than what they want.”
Asal gave her a pitying look. “You always were politically naive.”
“I am? You’re the one who refuses to bend her ideologies regardless of popular opinion.”
“I don’t need to,” Asal stated. “The people agree with me.”
Raya heard the warning in her tone but chose to ignore it. “Is that all, Councillor? I really am most busy.”
“Meeting with Kirk, no doubt.”
Ah. There was her real point after all, then. “Yes, I have heard that the Enterprise is making the latest supply run from Starbase 49. Naturally, I will extend hospitality to its captain.”
Asal wasn’t buying it. “And to your old friend Theena, who just happens to be a passenger on that ship?”
Raya suppressed another wince. Her back-channel contact might have slipped by most people, but Asal was more familiar with the details of her personal life. They had still been friends until the Alur affair, so Asal had known about the young orphan girl Raya had bonded with after the Pulse and treated as a friend and protegee ever since. There was no way Asal would believe Theena’s presence on Kirk’s ship was a coincidence. Raya had never been any good at deceiving her.
“No need to explain,” Asal said. “You hope Kirk can find one of his miracle solutions and stave off the coming upheaval, saving your career in the process.” She shook her head, her face showing regret that Raya couldn’t quite dismiss as insincere. “You should never have strayed from your commitment to our own people, Jo’Zamestaad. The future of our world—and of its government—lies with us, not with aliens. I only pray you recognize that before it is too late.”
Lieutenant Commander Hikaru Sulu had flown many types of craft in his years as a helmsman and test pilot. Yet somehow he’d never expected that one of them would be a crop duster.
More precisely, he flew the Galileo III, one of the new multipurpose shuttlecraft assigned to the Enterprise. The flat, blocky shuttles, whose shape reminded Sulu of an axe head cleaving the air, could be customized for various mission profiles with attachable modules such as long-range impulse engines, compact warp nacelles, weapons pods, cargo units, and so forth. Right now, the Galileo was outfitted with a tank-and-nozzle assembly for aerial spraying and stout wings to improve its atmospheric performance. Since the Enterprise’s nominal mission here was to assist in the eco-recovery project, the ship had stopped off at Starbase 49, command base for Mestiko operations, to pick up these and other supplies for that effort. The starbase staff had been grateful for the extra help, giving the crew their first indication of how massive this undertaking was.
Still, there were signs of progress being made, as Pavel Chekov observed from the copilot’s seat. “It looks better than the last time,” the young lieutenant said, studying the view in the large virtual display that took the place of a window in this shuttle design. “No more brown gunk in the sky. And there’s green on the ground.”
“Not much,” Uhura added from behind them. “No trees, no flowers… hardly anything more than moss.”
“But it’s a start,” Sulu told her. “You should’ve seen it up close last time. I’ve hardly ever been anywhere so completely dead. Well, airless moons and such, of course—but those are supposed to be barren.” He suppressed a shudder. “Compared to last time, this is downright lush.” According to the briefings—which, in his new capacity as Enterprise second officer, he had studied more carefully than he would have as just a helmsman—the Kazarite ecologists spearheading Mestiko’s restoration were starting out with simple life-forms that could thrive in cold, low-oxygen, high-UV conditions. Some were indigenous species, but most were genetically engineered, imported from alien worlds, or both, such as the Martian “frostbuster” moss that was at the foundation of the new ecosystem. What lived below them at the moment consisted mostly of plant life, but those plants relied on insects, worms, and other such forms to pollinate them and to mix, aerate, and fertilize the soil they grew in. It was a barely visible ecosystem from this altitude but already a complex one and, as Sulu was well aware from his botanical hobby, a vital one. (Charles Darwin had once proposed that no other species had “played so important a part in the history of the world” as the earthworm, for plant cultivation would be impossible without it.) The chemical mix spraying from the shuttle helped sustain the whole biosphere: fertilizing agents and growth enhancers for the plants, tri-ox compounds and radiation counteragents for the invertebrates. Yet it was a carefully designed mix of organic compounds, gentle to the environment, as one would expect of anything designed by Kazarites.
“Try telling that to the Payav,” Uhura said. “From the broadcasts I’ve been monitoring, they’re getting pretty impatient with the pace of the restoration.”
Sulu shrugged. “Tell them I’m flying as fast as I can.” Even as he spoke, he was turning the shuttle for another pass, making it as tight as he could to save time. He wouldn’t have recommended the maneuver to a less experienced pilot, but he’d helped test this design while it was still in prototype. Still, he had to adjust for the steadily diminishing mass of the cargo tank as its contents sprayed out.
“On second thought, I don’t think most of them would listen,” said Uhura. She’d done her homework on Payav cultures, since her purpose on this mission was to work with the Kazarites on improving their translator algorithms to smooth over misunderstandings between them and the Payav. “The mar-Atyya and Payavist opposition have gotten them fired up about it, blaming the government and the Federation for not doing more faster. When they’re not just condemning aliens in general.” She couldn’t help glancing back at the other passengers in the shuttle: the Tellarite biologist Bolek and the bulge-headed, gas-masked Zaranite microecologist Havzora. True, they were no more alien to Mestiko than the humans were, but the Payav would probably not see them that way.
“Don’t they see the opposition is just doing that to gain political advantage?” Chekov asked.
“I’m not so sure,” Uhura said. “A lot of people are genuinely angry and frustrated. They want to believe there’s a quick and easy answer, and a lot of them would rather look for it in their old, comfortable traditions than in the things that aliens tell them. That’s probably as true of the mar-Atyya demagogues as of the people who support them.”
“Only because it suits their ambitions to believe those things,” Chekov replied. “Trust me—we Russians understand these matters.”
“You pessimists, you mean.”
“Is there a difference?” Sulu teased.
Before long, the tank was running dry, and Sulu set course for the compound from which the Kazarites were supervising the reseeding of this part of Mestiko.
“About time,” Bolek griped, though he had volunteered to come by shuttle rather than waiting for his
turn through the Enterprise transporters, which were being kept busy beaming supplies to the surface.
The Kazarite compound was in a broad valley surrounded by mountains that sheltered it from the winds. It had been chosen because the terrain provided a natural confinement for the oxygen produced by the frostbuster moss, concentrating it enough within the valley to allow humanoids free movement on the surface for longer than was possible elsewhere on the planet. Finding a natural solution like this, rather than creating it with force fields or transparent-aluminum enclosures, struck Sulu as a very Kazarite approach. Although they had only recently joined the Federation, the Kazarites were already making a name for themselves as master ecologists, thanks to their empathic rapport with animals. Mestiko, a world not too far from their own, had become their most ambitious undertaking to date.
Still, to Sulu the valley looked more like parts of Earth than Mestiko or Kazar. It was mostly filled with a forest of small, young conifers imported from Earth, chosen because they were well adapted to cold, dry conditions and heavy snows. As the shuttle soared over the forest, Sulu’s eyes were drawn to a flock of Regulan pygmy eel-birds, whose shiny purple plumage, evolved to reflect the intense UV light of their hot primary star, made a vivid contrast to the deep green trees on which they perched.
Once the shuttle cleared the woods and neared the main research compound, Sulu saw a more alarming concentration of life-forms. A large crowd of Payav, wearing wide-brimmed hats, sun visors, and long-sleeved clothing to protect their pale skin, stood outside the compound’s main gate, waving signs and fists in the air and chanting things that Sulu couldn’t make out but that sounded pretty angry. “Mar-Atyya?” Chekov asked.
Uhura used a side screen to magnify the image. “A lot of them are. But most of them have tattoos.”
The Darkness Drops Again Page 2
