by Peter David
Generally, Hermats considered J’naii to be unfortunate freaks of nature. Since dual-gendered Burgoyne was used to encountering similar opinions of hirself among the single-gendered majority of Starfleet, s/he really didn’t have much trouble setting aside hir own initial squeamishness.
“So, what’s the occasion?” said Burgoyne. “I assume we have an assignment involving techno-organics.”
Castlebaum lost his smile and dropped into an all-business mode. “A Starfleet prototype ultra-deep-space probe has gone rogue,” he said. “It’s techno-organic, and it’s raising hell on a Federation planet.”
“A probe?” said Burgoyne. “How much damage can a probe do?”
“Quite a bit,” said Castlebaum, “if it’s equipped with biomechanical phasers, shields, a tractor beam, and warp drive. It has the offensive and defensive capabilities of a small starship, not to mention certain techno-organic capabilities. And it’s smaller than a shuttlecraft.”
Burgoyne raised hir eyebrows. “Fail-safes are offline?”
“We think it’s evolving,” said Dovan.
“Wow,” said Burgoyne, shaking hir head. “Next, you’ll be telling me it can reproduce.”
“It can,” said Dovan. “It has replication capabilities for self-repair and replacement.”
“Let me see if I have this straight,” said Burgoyne. “This probe is essentially a techno-organic life-form capable of asexual reproduction. Starfleet’s assigning a sexually androgynous J’naii and a dual-gendered Hermat to deactivate it.”
“Correct,” said Castlebaum, and then his wicked grin returned. “And one more detail you’ll be interested to know.”
“What’s that?” said Burgoyne.
“The planet it’s threatening,” said Castlebaum, “is Damiano.”
“Ah, yes,” said Burgoyne. “Where the inhabitants can have any of three genders.” S/he realized that Castlebaum was watching to see if s/he was rattled, as if the thought of dealing with gender assignments other than hir own could possibly unnerve hir. So Burgoyne laughed. “The more, the merrier,” s/he said brightly. “How about it, Dr. Dovan?”
“Gender is irrelevant,” said the J’naii, staring coldly at the Hermat. “I suggest we focus our attention on disabling the probe.”
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” said Castlebaum, grinning. “We’ll reach Damiano in less than twenty-four hours, so time is of the essence.”
Burgoyne touched the sleeve of Dovan’s khaki coveralls. “Let me just grab a shower, and I’ll meet you in engineering,” s/he said briskly.
To Burgoyne’s surprise, Dovan shrugged hir hand aside and turned to Castlebaum. “I’d like to get to work immediately,” said the J’naii. “We’ve already wasted enough time.”
“Right this way,” said Castlebaum, gesturing toward the holodeck exit. As the J’naii strode past him, the chief engineer beamed his biggest grin ever at Burgoyne, satisfied that he was making the Hermat’s life suitably miserable. “You can catch up with Dr. Dovan when you’re done with that shower, Lieutenant Burgoyne.”
“That’s assuming Dr. Dovan won’t have to catch up to me,” Burgoyne said cheerfully, trotting out the door past hir boss. “This mission is so right up my alley, I can’t wait to get started!”
“That’s great to hear,” said Castlebaum in a less than convincing tone.
“Oh,” said Burgoyne, stopping to turn a look of concern on the chief engineer. “If you feel the need to talk about any gender confusion sort of stuff, I want you to know I’m here for you.”
“Thanks,” said Castlebaum, nodding with an insincere smile. “You’ll be the first one I’ll call.”
“I think I might want to switch sides,” said Burgoyne, leaning over the display table in engineering to stare at the probe’s schematics, “because from what I can see, there’s no way to beat this thing.”
Across from hir, Dovan intently studied readouts on the tabletop. “Suit yourself,” the J’naii said stiffly, tapping control surfaces to run a calculation.
Burgoyne supposed s/he ought to jump for joy, because those were the first two words Dovan had said to hir in the half-hour since s/he had finished hir shower and come to engineering. This was especially noteworthy since Burgoyne hirself hadn’t stopped talking the whole time.
“I assume you have a plan, though?” said Burgoyne, forging ahead now that the silence had been broken. “I mean, being a techno-organic specialist and all, you must have some tricks up your sleeve.”
“There’s nothing up my sleeve,” Dovan said without looking up from the table.
“That’s what all magicians say,” said Burgoyne, “just before they make the flock of doves appear from thin air.”
Dovan sighed heavily and kept right on working. “Perhaps I should request a different teammate,” said the J’naii. “One who doesn’t babble quite so much.”
“Only problem is, I’m the best nanotechnology specialist on the ship,” said Burgoyne. “Plus which, I know you’d miss me if I wasn’t around.”
Finally, Dovan looked up. “The only way I’d miss you,” it said, “is if you suddenly turned into somebody I liked and then went away.”
Burgoyne smiled. “So what kind of person do you like?” s/he said. “Tell me, and I’ll see what I can do.”
Dovan scowled and looked back down at the display without deigning to answer. Though Burgoyne knew that s/he, too, ought to be concentrating on the job at hand, s/he continued to watch Dovan, annoyed and confused at the J’naii’s unconcealed disdain for hir.
S/he wondered how someone s/he had just met could dislike hir so strongly. With the exception of Castlebaum, s/he rarely put people off; as a rule, s/he made excellent first impressions.
The only thing s/he could think of to explain Dovan’s repulsion was the gender difference. Perhaps, though Burgoyne had managed to put aside the issue, Dovan was not progressive enough to play nice with a multigendered being.
At least not yet. Burgoyne, being the outrageous and persistent creature that s/he was, was not about to accept Dovan’s opinion until it coincided with hir own.
“Okay then,” s/he said brightly, tapping hir claws on the display table. “How do you propose we disable this rogue probe? I don’t see a weak spot, but then I’m not an expert in techno-organic systems like you are.”
Eyes fixed on the schematics, Dovan answered grudgingly. “Parasites.”
“Wait,” said Burgoyne, leaning over the table toward hir teammate. “Are we still talking about the probe, or are you referring to a personal problem?”
The wisecrack got no visible reaction from the J’naii. “I plan to attack the probe with techno-organic parasites,” said Dovan. “I’m growing them from the same biomatrix as the probe, so they should be able to fool its defenses. The probe will think they’re part of itself.”
“Where are you growing these parasites?” said Burgoyne.
Dovan walked away from the display table. “The cultures are developing in this incubator,” said the J’naii, touching a circular silver contraption on a nearby console. The device looked like a poker-chip caddy, but with gleaming silver cylinders mounted in the sockets instead of stacks of chips.
Burgoyne stepped over and leaned down to peer at the incubator. “How exactly will these parasites disable the probe?” s/he said thoughtfully.
“Once attached, they’ll bore into the device and hijack its neural pathways,” said Dovan. “They’ll reprogram it to shut itself down.”
Burgoyne nodded. “And you’re sure this will work?” s/he said, reaching out to touch one of the cylinders on the incubator.
By way of adjusting a control on the device, Dovan brushed aside Burgoyne’s hand. “All it will take is one parasite,” said the J’naii. “The only problem we might face is getting past the probe’s defenses.”
“Hold on now,” said Burgoyne, frowning. “I thought you said the parasites would fool its defenses because they’re being grown from its own biomatrix.”
; “Once they’re attached, the probe won’t repel them,” said Dovan. “But they won’t be self-propelled. Someone will have to attach them manually…and to do that, we’ll have to get past the probe’s shields and weapons.”
“I don’t suppose you’ve come up with a way past those, have you?” said Burgoyne.
“As a matter of fact,” said Dovan, making one more adjustment to the incubator and returning to the display table, “I hope to walk right through them.”
Burgoyne laughed. “I never knew the J’naii had the power to turn intangible. Or are you indestructible?”
“The probe is programmed for self-preservation. I don’t believe it will retaliate against products of the same biomatrix that spawned it. Therefore, I don’t expect it to attack me,” said Dovan, “because its biomatrix was derived from my own genetic material.”
“Aha,” said Burgoyne. “You’re the probe’s daddy…or is that mommy?”
“Neither,” said Dovan, fingers dancing over the table’s controls. “But I did play a role in its creation.”
Burgoyne thought for a moment, then walked over to stand beside the J’naii. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” s/he said, rubbing hir chin and staring at Dovan, “but isn’t it against techno-organic engineering protocols to derive a biomatrix from humanoid genetic materials?”
“I…circumvented protocols,” said Dovan, its gaze never wavering from the readouts on the table. “Apparently, this was a mistake.”
“Well,” said Burgoyne, narrowing hir eyes. “I can see I was wrong about you, Dovan.”
“In what way?” the J’naii said coldly. “Not that I care.”
“I thought you were the type to play it safe,” said Burgoyne. “Not a risk taker. I was wrong.”
Dovan said nothing, though its hands slowed their work on the table.
“Interesting,” said Burgoyne. “It makes you think, doesn’t it?”
“Think what?” said Dovan.
“Maybe you’re wrong about me, too,” said Burgoyne.
Dovan looked up from the table and directed a frosty glare at the Hermat. “No,” said the J’naii. “I’m not.”
Without another word, Dovan grabbed a padd from the table and marched out of engineering. Burgoyne watched it go and smiled.
“It won’t be long now,” s/he said to hirself. “The doctor’s really starting to come around.”
Later, Dr. Dovan did, in fact, come around. It came around to within a few inches of Burgoyne’s face, actually, while hollering full-throttle.
“We must not destroy the probe!” shouted the J’naii, face flushed with anger. “Deactivation will be sufficient!”
Burgoyne drew hir lips back in a grin that revealed hir sharp canine teeth. “I don’t know if I’d say you’re cute when you’re angry,” s/he said, “but you’re definitely more animated.”
Dovan jerked away from the Hermat and turned to Castlebaum, who had joined them for a strategy meeting. “Tell hir!” snapped the J’naii. “Our orders are to stop the probe, not eradicate it!”
Castlebaum cleared his throat. “Starfleet’s orders don’t rule out lethal force,” he said calmly. “Our primary mission is to protect the people of Damiano. If we have to destroy the probe to do that, so be it.”
“We need to study it,” said Dovan. “Find out what went wrong! If we blow it to pieces, that won’t be an option!”
“So if it comes down to sacrificing the probe or the people,” said Burgoyne, “you’d rather sacrifice the people?”
Dovan whirled to face hir, seething…then seemed to catch itself on the verge of further fireworks. The J’naii’s shoulders rose as it took a deep breath and released it, then another. “As I’ve explained,” it said tightly, “the techno-organic parasites will discontinue the malfunctions and disable the probe.”
“I hope they do,” said Burgoyne, “but I’m not convinced. That’s why we need backup plans.”
“The parasites will do the job,” said Dovan. “The simulations I’ve run prove it.”
“You said it yourself,” said Burgoyne. “You think the probe’s evolving. What if it’s evolved to the point of resisting the parasites?”
Dovan spun around to face Castlebaum again. “It will recognize their biomatrix as its own,” said the J’naii. “Having done so, it will avoid damaging them. Self-preservation is one of its most deeply embedded protocols.”
“If the probe’s evolving,” said Burgoyne, “it’s no longer the same device you created.”
“All the more reason not to destroy it,” said Dovan, its voice rising again. “It’s become something new! We need to learn from it!”
“Excuse me,” said Castlebaum, “but do you know how many people it’s killed on Damiano?”
Dovan did not say a word.
“Forty-three. And counting.”
Still, Dovan remained silent.
“We have to stop this thing any way we can,” said Castlebaum. “We’ll try your parasites, but we’ll take other measures if they fail.”
Burgoyne looked at the chief engineer and couldn’t help but feel a twinge of admiration. Most of the time, Castlebaum was so abusive and dictatorial, it was hard to remember how sensible and effective he could be.
“We’ll lock the Livingston’s phasers on to the probe,” said Castlebaum. “As Lieutenant Burgoyne has suggested, we’ll program them for rapid frequency modulation. They should break through to the probe, even if it modulates its shield frequency.”
“So that’s it,” said Dovan, throwing up its arms in futility. “You’re set on destroying what could very well be the greatest leap forward of all time in techno-organic technology.”
“Only if your plan doesn’t succeed,” said Castlebaum. “And according to you, it will succeed, so this ought to be a moot point.”
Dovan sighed and dropped into one of the chairs around the briefing table. “I don’t have much choice in the matter, do I?”
“As I said, it ought to be a moot point,” said Castlebaum. “Now, how much longer until the parasites are fully operational?”
“Less than two hours,” said Dovan. “I just need to fine-tune their programming.”
“Burgoyne will assist you,” said Castlebaum.
“Actually,” said Burgoyne, “I’d like to do more than that.”
“Explain,” said Castlebaum.
“I’d like to piggyback more parasites on the parasites,” said Burgoyne. “Entropic nanobots. We could infuse the parasites with colonies of them.”
“To what end?” said Castlebaum.
“The ’bots could be injected into the probe when the parasites make contact,” said Burgoyne. “They would literally take it apart from the inside.”
“No,” said Dovan, glaring at the table. “I refuse. The parasites are meant to deactivate, not destroy.”
Burgoyne shrugged. “From what I can see, this probe is next to unstoppable. I vote we strengthen our hand however we can.”
“Please,” said Dovan. “Give me a chance to retrieve it intact.”
Castlebaum looked at Dovan, then Burgoyne. “Infuse two parasites with the ’bots,” said the chief engineer. “We’ll hold them in reserve in case the others fail.”
Dovan blew out its breath in frustration and shook its head.
“Typical,” said the J’naii.
“Excuse me?” said Castlebaum.
“I expected better from you, Commander,” said Dovan, “though your subordinate’s attitude comes as no surprise.”
“And here I thought I was full of surprises,” said Burgoyne with a smirk.
Dovan rose from its chair and looked disgustedly at the Hermat. “I’ve dealt with your kind before,” said the J’naii. “It’s always the same.”
“Now, what exactly do you mean by that?” said Burgoyne.
“Morality means nothing to you,” said Dovan. “You have no conscience.”
Burgoyne smiled dangerously, displaying hir fangs in full view. “Obviously, I do,” s/he sa
id quietly. “Otherwise, you would have found yourself the recipient of a rather extreme full-body makeover just now.”
“Case in point,” said Dovan, and then it left the briefing room.
Castlebaum patted Burgoyne on the shoulder. “I’m glad to see I was right,” he said, grinning. “About you two making a great team, that is.”
“Oh, I love my teammate,” said Burgoyne, fangs still bared. “I look forward to spending more time together in the near future.”
“Nothing like quality time to bring two people closer together,” said Castlebaum, glowing with delight at the irritation that Burgoyne was unable to conceal.
“Yes,” Burgoyne said stiffly. “Quality time.”
Though the team from the Livingston materialized inside the office of the governor of Damiano, Burgoyne immediately realized that they had just beamed into a war zone.
Gazing through a picture window at a view of the city around them, s/he saw that the reports of the probe’s destructive power had not been exaggerated. Smoking craters yawned in the middle of city blocks, surrounded by the rubble of collapsed buildings and exploded streets. The buildings that remained standing were battered and burned, pocked with impact cavities and bristling with wreckage. In the distance, bright light flashed between structures, signaling a battle in progress. Coinciding with the flashes of light, s/he heard and felt a rumbling like the thunder of an approaching storm.
“Welcome to Iaron, our capital city,” said a voice from the side of the office opposite the window. “What’s left of it, anyway.”
Turning, Burgoyne saw a green-skinned humanoid seated behind a large desk. “Lieutenant Burgoyne, of the starship Livingston,” said the Hermat, bowing at the waist. “Techno-organic specialist Dr. Dovan,” s/he continued, gesturing at the J’naii and then at each of the other away-team members in turn. “Lieutenant Carlsbad, Ensigns Rubio and Snell. We’re here about the probe.”
