Алан Дин Фостер: The Unsettling Stars

There was nothing primitive about the weaponry they unleashed on the Perenorean colony ship, though. Loosed from three different sources, energy weapons and explosive projectiles clawed at the larger alien vessel’s shields, filling empty space with fire, disruption, and an unbridled eagerness to destroy.

“This is an uneven fight if I ever saw one!” Stepping forward, McCoy placed a hand on the back of the command chair and leaned close to Kirk. “Jim, you’ve got to do something! We’ve got to do something!”

Spock ignored the fiery mayhem that now filled the viewscreen in favor of studying his readouts. “Despite the apparently overwhelming firepower being directed against them, the Perenorean shields appear to be holding.” He glanced querulously in Sulu’s direction. “Interesting that a self-declared colony ship would travel equipped with such extensive and advanced defensive capability.”

“The Perenoreans are returning fire.” Sulu’s sensor readouts confirmed what was sometimes difficult to discern on the viewscreen. “They’re not just sitting and taking it. But their weapons capability doesn’t appear to come close to matching their defensive technology.”

“Or else they are diverting the majority of ship’s power to their shields,” Chekov reasonably pointed out. “In any case, based on what I am seeing here”—he indicated his instrumentation—“despite their initial achievement in resisting the attack, I do not see them holding out against such a concerted multipronged assault for very long.”

“ Jim! ” McCoy was unrelenting.

Kirk ground his teeth. Instinct told him to open fire on behalf of the seemingly inoffensive alien colonists. Doing so would likely put the Perenoreans, and by inference their species and society, forever in the Federation’s debt. Conversely, it would also make enemies of their present assailants. Experience, as limited as it was, cautioned him against taking sides too impetuously in a conflict of whose origin and causation he was still ignorant.

The trouble was that, as usual, ongoing battlefield conditions did not allow for extended contemplation of alternatives.

“Captain, we’re being hailed again.” If not her words, Uhura’s tone indicated that her sympathies lay wholly with Doctor McCoy. Kirk refused to be swayed.

“On-screen,” he tensely ordered.

The face and upper body of Leaderesque Taell reappeared before them. Though his admirable surplus of facial expressions were alien and as yet uninterpretable, he communicated his anxiety efficiently via translation.

“Captain Kirk, I beg you—on behalf of our younglings if no other—please help us! We are not a warship. Our engines are nearing overload. We cannot withstand the concerted assault of the Dre’kalak for much longer! They will kill us all!”

Chekov looked askance toward the science station. “Dre’kalak?”

“Another unknown species.” Searching swiftly through available information, Spock found nothing.

A moment later his search was rendered superfluous.

“Captain,” Uhura announced, “we are being hailed by the nearest of the attacking vessels. Establishing communication will require a moment to sort and analyze syntax and verbalizations.”

“Get it right, Lieutenant,” Kirk told her. “We want to be sure everyone understands each other. In a situation like this, we don’t have any room for misperception. Take your time.”

“We have time, Jim,” McCoy put in, “but I’m not so sure about the Perenoreans.”

Once more confirming the multiplicity of honors she had received at the Academy, Uhura’s response came sooner than anyone on the bridge dared hope. “Full comprehension is not perfect, Captain. Not as good as with the Perenoreans. The language of the Dre’kalak is rougher on enunciation, and their fundamental grammar is more complex. But I think we’ll be able to understand each other.”

“Then go ahead and acknowledge their hail, Lieutenant.”

Once more the forward viewscreen cleared and an image formed. It was decidedly less attractive than those previously viewed.

Several other representatives of the speaker could be seen behind it. “It” because unlike with the Perenoreans, Uhura could not ascertain the sex of the individual communicating—or even if it was of a particular gender. For all she had been able to construe, its species might reproduce asexually.

From a rippling lump of gray-green flesh a trio of tentacles waved erratically. Three round lime-green eyes, each a different size (and perhaps evolved for individual and dissimilar functions), seemed to float untethered in the middle of the upper portion of the roughly cone-shaped body. There was no visible nose or ears, though a distinct cavity located near the crest of the body might have provided either function—or neither. The mouth was wide, narrow, and surrounded by a single contiguous rubbery lip. The creature’s speech sounded like a series of painful groans, with which the Enterprise ’s translation software and instrumentation struggled mightily.

“Unknown vessel,” the Dre’kalak rumbled. “I am Podleader Ul-tond, squadron commanding! We of the Ultimate Circle are on critical hunt-and-destroy mission. Do not interfere with ongoing action! Repeat, do not interfere! Such actions will be regarded by the Circle as allying self with hated Perenoreans and kindle angry responding by full might of the squadron!”

McCoy could barely contain his outrage. “ ‘Hunt and destroy’? Hunt and destroy what? Harmless colonists? Jim…?”

Kirk addressed himself to the chair’s pickup. “This is Captain James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise . Until now, both the Dre’kalak and the Perenoreans were unknown to us. As such, we are patently not a party to any disagreements that exist between your two species. However…”

Hearing that word, Spock braced himself.

The science officer was needlessly worrying. Kirk continued formally enough to make his Academy instructors in interspecies diplomacy proud. “It would serve to expand our knowledge of the situation and understanding of your apparent grievances if you could enlighten us as to why three ships of the Dre’kalak are attacking a single Perenorean ship, when the latter appears to be a vessel carrying colonists.”

Responding immediately, the Dre’kalak podleader abruptly terminated the transmission. Kirk sharply swiveled around.

“Uhura? I didn’t get a translation of that last part.”

“Neither did I, Captain.” The communications officer checked her displays. “Much of it was apparently too colloquial for the linguistics core upon which our initial exchange of verbalizations is based to interpret correctly.”

“I can tell you what it consisted of.” McCoy voiced confidence. “He—it—was saying ‘Mind your own damn business.’ ” The doctor held resolutely to his position. “Well, Jim? What about it? Are we going to mind our own business?”

Kirk had less than a minute to think it over when his already churning thoughts were interrupted by another communication from the Perenorean ship. It was Taell again, bruised and unsteady this time, with extraordinarily dark blood trickling from a gash on his forehead just above one of those luminescent slitted eyes.

“Captain Kirk! Our shields are on the verge of failing! I plead with you one last time, can you not…?”

The desperate transmission dissolved into static. Forward of the command chair, Sulu looked back at his commander. “Captain, sensors indicate that the Perenorean ship is losing power. It is reasonable to assume that when it reaches a critical point, they will lose their shielding entirely.” He paused. “They will be completely defenseless.”