The Face of the Unknown

by Christopher L. Bennett

  Even the arcologies’ interiors were well lit and high vaulted, with trees and small parks within them. They were also quite roomy, allowing the Tessegri plenty of space to move around. This was fortunate, since there were plenty of Linnik ambling around as well in their metallic robes of various hues, and Kirk suspected that a lot of them would get tripped over if they didn’t have plenty of room to give the racing Tessegri a wide berth. For his own part, Kirk had trouble keeping up with Aranow as she led him into one of the largest arcologies and up a wide, spiraling ramp to the top, kilometers above. Thankfully, even the Tessegri had limits to their energy; the gravity in the ramp shaft was reduced to a fraction of normal, making the ascent fairly easy. A turbolift would have been simpler, but Tessegri liked to move.

  Still, Kirk was panting when he finally caught up with Aranow on the roof of the arcology. “Too much . . . time sitting . . . in the big chair,” he told her with a strained grin once he was close enough that the strong winds up here wouldn’t steal his words away. “Though don’t . . . tell Doctor McCoy . . . I admitted that. Whatever . . . you brought me here for . . . it had better be—”

  He broke off, rendered speechless as he finally saw what was beyond Aranow, beyond the edge of the roof. This arcology was one of the higher ones in the inner portion of the megalopolis, and it afforded a clear view of the enormous savanna within its confines. Again his mind had trouble adjusting to a view without a horizon. “It’s a lot like where we evolved,” Aranow said. “The Tessegri. Except without the predators. We keep those in another module. Not really authentic this way,” she added with a shrug. “But we like a place to move around free. Without getting eaten.”

  Kirk nodded. “Always a plus.”

  “Not like you can do, though. Out there. Space. Now that’s openness. That’s freedom.”

  He smiled. “I thought so. When you said you were happy just to explore the Web . . . I got the feeling that was just what a triumvir is supposed to say.”

  “Oh, no. I’m happy here. So many modules I haven’t been to yet. Long time before I visit them all.” Her tail swished behind her, unsettling the skirt flaps on either side of the vertical slit that accommodated it. “But sometimes I wonder . . . what then?” She looked upward, and Kirk followed her gaze. The clouds had broken above the dome, and though the thick white haze above still diffused the sunlight (while shielding them from outside eyes and sensors), there were enough kilometers of methane intervening to tinge the sky bright blue.

  “There are always the orbships,” Kirk said.

  “They build them too small,” Aranow replied. “Inside, I mean. I know they’re huge outside. Of course they’re huge outside. But I mean the rooms. Halls. A few roomy parts—not enough. You know, you’ve been on one.” He nodded. “Besides, they just patrol the borders. Mine the asteroids. The ruins. Places we know. Not very interesting. Sad, but not interesting.” She sighed, still gazing up at—and through—the Jovian sky. “Sometimes I think . . . it might be nice to see something . . . something no First has ever seen. Not just me. Anybody.”

  “I know the feeling,” Kirk said.

  Aranow lowered her gaze again. “Just a fantasy. It’s dangerous out there. We can’t draw attention—not just for us, but for the others. The younger cultures. Refugees. We have to protect them.” Kirk nodded. “And we have all we need in here. Plenty of space. Plenty of room to move. Look around! Huge! Lots of hugeness. Silly to feel cramped.”

  He turned to study her. “So if you like to move around so much, why take a job as a triumvir?”

  “Oh, we travel. The Web doesn’t have a single capital. We move seasonally. The Council. Region to region. Every region gets its turn.” She shrugged. “Not every species likes to move around. Better we come to them.”

  “Don’t tell me—that was the Tessegri’s idea.”

  “And the Kisaja’s. They figured it was more equal. If nobody was more central. And the Bogosrin’s. It let them build more capitol buildings. And the Linnik’s. It fits the way they organize in cells.” Aranow grinned. “Synergy. The way of the Web.”

  “Hmm, I guess you’ve been together so many millennia that it comes naturally to you. We younger races have to work at it more.”

  “Oh, don’t misunderstand—we argue plenty. Any family does. When you’re really close, it’s okay.” She paused, seeming uneasy about something. “And it’s not like Tessegri all agree. We argue among ourselves. All the species do.” She looked at him. “And humans? Do you all get along?”

  “Not at all. We disagree about a great many things—both among ourselves and with other Federation members. But we’ve learned to respect each other’s right to disagree, and not to deny others’ value simply because they don’t share our views.”

  “We try to do the same,” Aranow said. “But sometimes . . .”

  Kirk frowned. “Aranow, is something wrong?”

  “Wrong?” She laughed. “Of course not. Everything’s fine. Hey, come on!” Suddenly she was running off, waving at him to follow. “I’ll show you the lower levels! Best restaurants in the module!”

  The captain hesitated a moment more, then shrugged it off and ran after her. Aranow’s bright mood was infectious, and he felt renewed confidence that everything would work out all right. He studied her sleek form as she raced ahead of him. Her shape was different from a human’s, especially in the legs and elongated feet, but not that different. Underneath that tail was a pretty fine—

  Down, boy. She’s a planetary leader. Matters are complicated enough without an interstellar incident. Now is not the time.

  He picked up his pace to catch up with her. He wanted to avoid that particular view, and he had a lot of energy to burn off. But she laughed and pulled ahead effortlessly again. This time, what lingered in his mind was her smile.

  * * *

  Ne-Kewii watched through the groundcar’s windows as Triumvir Aranow raced ahead of the outsider captain. She fidgeted, ruffling the feathers of her silver wings as best she could in the tight space. “He’s isolated,” she said. “We should move in.”

  “No,” Kasan Tor rumbled, his deep Bogosrin voice resonating through the car’s spherical frame. “Aranow is too close. In more ways than one, it looks like.” He growled. “The triumvirs didn’t waste any time getting their hooks into these outsiders. There’ll be no getting to them now.”

  “Don’t be so sure,” Ne-Kewii said. “Aranow’s not like the others. She’s new, not as set in her ways. Maybe we could get to her, given the chance. And maybe these outsiders are the way to do it.” She kept watching the captain. His species didn’t look so different from Linnik, just bigger and more angular. They weren’t nearly as frightening as a Dassik, say. “If there’s any chance, we have to act soon, Tor. You think security around the triumvirs will be this lax once the dying begins?”

  “It’s not like there’s a set timetable for this thing,” Kasan told her.

  “Exactly. It could start tomorrow for all we know. We need their ship, Tor. With or without their cooperation.”

  “If they’re in with the triumvirs, it’ll have to be without.”

  “Is that a good idea? Would we even be able to fly their ship?”

  Kasan straightened, wincing in annoyance as his horns bumped into the roof of the car. “We might have to,” he said. “If they don’t go along, they’ll have to stay behind and die with everyone else.”

  Six

  Nyota Uhura was grateful that Spock had offered her the chance to accompany him and Nisu on their tour of the Kisaja world module. She had the sense that the first officer had invited her as much as a chaperone as anything else, given Nisu’s obvious interest in him. But that was between the two of them, and Uhura could hardly blame the Kisaja protector for her fascination with Spock. As for herself, the communications officer welcomed the opportunity to observe the Kisaja people in large groups and learn somethin
g of how they balanced verbal and telepathic communication.

  The Kisaja habitat was dimly lit, mimicking the light of the cool red dwarf under which they had evolved. The low lighting helped explain their oversized eyes. But it was a warm and comfortable environment, ­dominated by a single vast sea that served as a heat sink. The Kisaja habitations were concentrated on the shorelines of the many artificial islands and fjords that had been sculpted into the world module’s synthetic bedrock. A gregarious people, the Kisaja lived in close quarters by choice and freely shared their community with Linnik, ­Tessegri, and ­others. The architecture was closely packed but airy and spacious, with abundant walls of glass or transparent aluminum to give the Kisaja as many open sightlines to one another as possible, facilitating their gaze communication. Some areas were partitioned and hidden to allow for privacy when it was desired—though it was clear that what the Kisaja ­considered private differed from the human or Vulcan norm. The many swimmer­-filled shorelines and floor-to-ceiling windows left no doubt that, as with many species that could see into one another’s minds, the Kisaja saw little need to hide their bodies from one another. If anything, it seemed to Uhura, modesty in a Kisaja was expressed more by averting one’s own eyes, in order to conceal what was beneath the surface, than by wishing others to avert theirs from what was on the surface.

  But it was nothing Uhura hadn’t seen before, allowing for slight variances in humanoid anatomy, and she soon found herself more intrigued by what she heard than by what she saw. Though the city’s occupants routinely locked eyes with one another as they passed, on many occasions they stopped to exchange words as well—­fragmentary conversations to human ears, seeming to start in the middle and leaving out much that had presumably passed unsaid, but still fully and fluently verbal. “Why do the Kisaja retain the ability to speak at all,” she asked Nisu, “given how easily you commune telepathically?”

  The golden-skinned security chief smiled at Uhura, though taking care to keep the direct gaze of her huge blue eyes to a minimum. “For one thing, to attract the attention of someone looking the other way,” she replied with a shrug, pointing out the obvious without judgment or condescension. “Or to call over a distance or around corners, when line of sight is not available. But it is more than that, of course. The spoken word is more . . . linear, more specific, than what we share telepathically. Gaze communication can be approximated in words. If, for instance, I wished to tell you in English what another Kisaja had conveyed to me through a glance, I could offer a reasonable approximation. But there would be differences in detail, in emphasis; and many nuances and abstractions would be left out.”

  “Like how the music and performance of a song can communicate things the lyrics can’t,” Uhura interpreted.

  “An excellent analogy,” Nisu said. “You can find meaning in each independently of the other . . . but the song is not complete unless they are both present.”

  The tour was a heady experience, and Uhura was both disappointed and relieved when the trio returned to the conduit car that had brought them here. Once they had entered the conduit and accelerated away from Kisaja, Spock addressed their escort. “I am curious, Nisu. We have seen the modules re-creating the homes of the Tessegri, Bogosrin, Kisaja, and other First Federation member worlds, as well as nature preserve modules like Syletir. Yet though we see Linnik among the inhabitants of every module, they seem to have no module representing their own homeworld. Why is this?”

  Nisu paused before replying. “The Linnik rarely discuss their origin world. They were already Dassik slaves when the rest of us met them. I suppose theirs was the first world the Dassik destroyed.” She brightened. “But they are an adaptable people, as one would expect from such great intellects. They have made the entire Web of Worlds their home. They reside in the subterranean complexes of numerous habitat modules, where they can monitor their functions and keep them maintained. There is a Linnik warren not far from here, underneath the Altecla nature preserve. Would you like to see it?”

  “I would indeed,” Spock affirmed. Uhura nodded as well. As much as her head danced with Kisaja linguistics and semantics, the chance to learn more about Balok’s secretive people was irresistible.

  Nisu flew them on a complex course through the ­conduits until they emerged within a module terra­formed as a vast desert. She angled the craft toward a small ­cluster of domelike buildings not far from the module’s rim. Once they had landed in a hangar dome, the Kisaja led the Enterprise officers underground into a warren of low-ceilinged tunnels and chambers, the spaces delineated by latticed dividers and curtains in the Linnik style. Uhura heard the sounds of children at play, and soon they emerged into a large rounded chamber with play sets and a padded floor, where several juvenile Linnik were playing. One was chasing the others around, wearing some sort of mask and making snarling noises that were almost obscured by the high-pitched shrieks and giggles of the rest. Adult Linnik looked like hairless children to begin with, so their children were astonishingly tiny, like newborns that could run and talk and laugh. Uhura found them unbearably adorable.

  Their reaction to the new arrivals was not reciprocal, though. The children’s flight led them nearly to Spock’s feet, and they looked up at him, shrieked, and scattered, crying, “A Dassik! A Dassik!” The pursuing child dropped his mask and joined their flight—and Uhura could see now that it was skull-like, narrow, and sallow-featured, a stylized representation of a Dassik face. She quashed an inappropriate burst of humor at the thought that she could understand how the children had mistaken Spock for one of them.

  The children rushed over to a triad of adult Linnik, two male and one female, who had been supervising their play. While the males comforted the children, the female strode forward to confront the newcomers belligerently, even though she was no bigger than a human five-year-old. “What is the meaning of this? How dare you come in here and scare the children?”

  “There is no need for concern, Caregiver,” Nisu assured her. “These are visitors from the starship of the—”

  “I know who they are,” the caregiver said. “­Outsiders. Fighters. Bringing the Dassik and their savagery to our skies. Stay back, children!” she warned, though the children were moving forward again, gazing up at Spock and Uhura with open curiosity now that the fantasy ­terror of being chased had dissipated. Nyota smiled at one tiny girl who smiled back with a gap-toothed grin. But the caregiver threw herself in front of the child and gave Uhura the stink eye. “Don’t bare your teeth at them, you predator!”

  “Caregiver!” Nisu cried. “That is uncalled for. These people are victims of the Dassik’s violence. Their worlds, their ships are in jeopardy. They came to our space seeking answers and were forced to hide here from a Dassik task force. They are on Cherela for refuge and assistance, the very things we exist to provide. Your lack of welcome is shameful.”

  The caregiver was chastened, glancing at the children as if considering the example she was setting for them. “My apologies, Protector.” She turned more grudgingly to Spock and Uhura. “And to you as well. Of course all who seek refuge are welcome here,” she recited as if by rote.

  Nonetheless, she made excuses that the children’s playtime was over, herding them away over their groaning objections. As with children everywhere, their curiosity outweighed their fear when given the chance. Unfortunately, as the caregiver’s behavior reminded Uhura, the same was not always true of adults.

  “Perhaps,” Nisu said to the Starfleet officers, “it was unwise to come here without notice. You must forgive our people; it has been quite a shock to discover that the Dassik are no longer a harmless relic of our past.” She glanced down at the mask that still lay abandoned on the playground. “It has reawakened certain . . . old habits of thought. Our way is welcoming, though. I am sure our people will remember that.”

  “Indeed,” Spock said. “However, perhaps you are correct that an unscheduled visit is needlessly disrup
tive. It is not our wish to create any discomfort for your people. Let us return to the aircar.”

  Uhura was disappointed that Spock had given up so easily, but as they walked back to the aircar, the first officer began to question Nisu. “This event has reminded me that there are certain anomalous aspects in your people’s account of the Dassik’s history. I am hopeful that you can provide clarification.”

  Nisu hesitated, and the lieutenant began to understand why Spock had felt it best to continue this conversation alone rather than in the presence of a crowd of Linnik. “What do you mean?” the Kisaja finally asked.

  “Your people apparently have no explanation for how the Dassik disappeared twelve thousand years ago.”

  “We assumed they had simply wiped one another out. Turned on their own kind when their other prey was ­exhausted.”

  “That assumption is clearly not reconcilable with their continued survival today. Which raises the questions of how they survived and why they did not resume their aggression until now.”

  “Those are questions we cannot answer.”

  “Which is itself an anomaly. The First Federation has controlled this region of space for millennia, patrolling its borders, mining its systems, and constructing scientific outposts. And yet, in all that time, you never discovered either an explanation for the Dassik’s disappearance or any evidence that they continued to exist?”

  Nisu was quiet for a time. “Perhaps,” she finally said, “there were some questions we were too afraid to ask.”

  Once they reached the conduit car, Nisu spoke again. “Before we leave Altecla, Spock, there is something I would like to show you out in the desert. It is a matter of scientific interest that I think will intrigue you.” She glanced at Uhura. “You need not accompany us, Lieutenant. I sense your fatigue and your desire to digest and organize the observations you have made today. Let me arrange to have you beamed back to the Enterprise.”