“But the Pa’haquel…well, they don’t like us, they don’t trust us, and they insist on acting like they own the place. A lot of the crew aren’t happy with the way they think they can boss us around.”
“Neither am I,” Riker said. “But let’s face it—we’re the visitors, they’re the home team. They’re the ones who understand this part of space—and if it comes to that, they’re the ones who can call for backup and blow us out of the sky. We’re a long way from the Sixth Fleet.” He nursed his coffee. “Maybe it’ll do the crew some good to be reminded of that. Out here maybe it’s best if we learn a little humility.”
“Maybe. But on the other hand…”
“On the other hand?” Riker prompted when she opted to have a slice of melon instead of finishing her sentence.
When she was ready, she went on. “I’m just not so sure about what we’re doing. I know I was the one saying we shouldn’t interfere in their way of life, and I’d defend to the death their right to, et cetera, et cetera. But I’m not crazy about actively helping them perpetuate it either. To tell you the truth, Will, I hate hunting. Back on Izar, you know, there’s a sizeable sect of traditionalists, descendants of the early colonists who had to live off the land. And they think it’s this grand, noble tradition to carry on the ways of the first settlers. Which they think means hunting for sport and having the unrestricted license to own archaic, lethal weapons—plasma rifles, projectile weapons, crossbows, anything without a stun setting. Never mind that they live in cushy houses with replicators and tended lawns and don’t need to hunt for their food or defend themselves against predators in the bush. It’s all about ‘tradition’ and ‘pride’ to them. But to me, as a cop, as the daughter of a cop, it was more about having to call in the coroner when somebody wasn’t careful enough with the damn things and blew their kids’ heads off. Or when somebody lost their temper or got scared, and pulled a trigger before they had a chance to think about it, to stop themselves. I lost family to those weapons, to the ‘noble hunting traditions’ that kept them legal.
“Now, I freely admit that makes me biased. Looking at it objectively, I understand that in some cultures, some environments, you have to hunt to survive. I understand that humans did it for a million years or more. And of course I can’t deny that the things the Pa’haquel are hunting—monsters like that harvester….” She blinked; the image of the Shalra homeworld’s demise was still seared on her retinas, right on top of Oghen’s. “Well, something has to be done to stop them from destroying whole inhabited worlds.
“But it still doesn’t seem right to me, what we’re doing.” Will just watched her patiently as she went on. “I mean, we’re going to try to make the star-jellies into their hunting dogs. To take these beautiful, sensitive creatures and make them into weapons. It doesn’t seem right. Violence as a first resort…that shouldn’t be the Starfleet way, not anymore. Even the harvesters or the Crystalline Entities, they’re just animals following their instincts. Killing them for it—that’s just not the Starfleet I signed up for.”
Riker tilted his head in acknowledgment, clearly not offended. But he did offer a counterpoint. “Starfleet has its rules, but so does nature. Letting animals do what comes naturally—that means killing, and being killed. It’s no different for the star-jellies. They’re wild animals, Christine. They already have to fight to survive. And we’ve seen they have no qualms about killing when they have to.”
“When they have to. But to make a whole lifestyle of it….” She shook her head. “It just seems like suddenly we’ve taken the Pa’haquel’s side here, trying to change the jellies to be like them.”
“Weren’t you the one who suggested that the jellies needed to change?”
“I don’t know, I guess so. As a rhetorical device, I guess. Hell, let’s face it, I’m all over the map on this. I wanted to stay out of it because I don’t knowwhat the right side is. I think everyone’s entitled to their own way of life, ideally, but when it starts to hurt other people then I’m not so sure. How do we know the Pa’haquel can be trusted with the power that live star-jellies could give them? How can we say they’re the ones best qualified to deal with the cosmozoan threat? How do we know they’ll only use that power against cosmozoans? And what about the other intelligent cosmozoans out there? The Pa’haquel don’t seem to discriminate much where their targets are concerned.”
Riker grimaced. “I don’t know. I don’t know, Christine. I don’t think this is an ideal solution either. But it’s what I’ve got right now. At the moment, my top priority is to help end the conflict between the star-jellies and the Pa’haquel. The jellies asked for our help, then we let them take it from us, and as a result another species’ way of life is endangered. I want to fix thoseproblems, the ones I’m directly responsible for. Dealing with the bigger issues, that comes later.” He shrugged. “Who knows? If this works, the star-jellies will have a say in the alliance too. Maybe they can add some compassion to it, offer some alternative solutions.”
“Except they have no qualms about killing when they have to,” she echoed.
“There is that.” Riker furrowed his brow. “Maybe that’s the whole problem here. The reason we’ve had so much trouble figuring out what to do according to the Prime Directive or Starfleet policy. Those policies are geared toward dealing with technical civilizations, structured governments, laws and treaties—maybe it doesn’t prepare us well for dealing with the wilder kinds of intelligent life. Beings that only live by the laws of survival and need. So this is something we’re making up as we go.”
Vale nodded, finishing up her eggs. “And right now, ourcontinued survival depends on not ticking off the Pa’haquel too badly. So we’re pretty much acting out of necessity too.”
“Right. But I’m hoping to find a way to move beyond that. Successful negotiations between the Pa’haquel and the jellies—even if it does mean turning the jellies into fighters, it still means that former mortal enemies will have learned to work together, will have found an alternative to killing each other. And that’s a good start. Maybe it’s the first step toward a world of cushy houses and manicured lawns where deadly force is an anachronism.”
“Maybe.” Vale saw the Shalra world again, saw her aunt’s coffin being lowered into the ground with full police honors. “But even in a world like that, anachronisms happen.”
“Yes. They do.” She looked in his eyes, and saw Tezwa.
The Pa’haquel were furious. Deanna could sense it pouring off them in waves before she even entered the observation lounge. She strove to maintain a calm and relaxing presence as she entered the room, but Qui’hibra’s cold, raptorlike gaze upon her made it difficult. Somehow his unwavering calm was more intimidating than the more overt rage of Chi’tharu and Tir’hruthi, the other two Pa’haquel he had brought to this meeting. His fury was something that would never overwhelm him, never cloud his judgment or diffuse his energies; it was something he wielded with stern efficiency, always a strength and never a weakness. All three of them wanted to snap her neck right now, but Qui’hibra would channel that urge into his words, his strategies, his arguments. That made him far more of a threat in her mind. She took some slight solace in the gentle warmth projected by Oderi, who had been brought along as an aide.
But Qui’hibra didn’t even let Deanna sit before he spoke. “You will explain to me,” he said, “how it is that the very telepath who handed the skymounts the means to defeat us is now being included on this mission.”
Deanna’s eyes widened. She resisted asking a question like “How did you find out?”;it would only serve to make them angrier if she treated it as a secret. Besides, Oderi’s apologetic glance and empathic aura told the tale. Deanna looked at the little Rianconi in a new light and wondered which Titancrew member had allowed him- or herself to be seduced into revealing the facts about Tuvok’s actions. She couldn’t blame Oderi for being loyal to her allies, though. And she had intended to tell them anyway when the time was right.