“I’ve noticed it too.” The helmsman was trying to divide his attention between his readouts and the fascinating alien. “The background blurring suggests additional figures moving rapidly. It would be nice to know what they’re in such a hurry about.”
“Hopefully not arming weapons,” Chekov commented darkly.
Sulu was openly doubtful. “Sensors indicate that they’re not doing anything other than maintaining their present position. There’s no change in energy output. I have a feeling that this species doesn’t pose any danger.”
“Yes, tell the captain that you have a ‘feeling’ about it. I’m sure he’ll order you to drop our shields.”
The alien’s response seemed as hurried as the movements of his fellow beings behind him. That it was indeed a “him” who was responding was confirmed by Uhura’s semantics algorithms.
“I am Taell, Leaderesque of the colony ship Eparthaa of the Perenorean Outreach. On a journey to settle a new and uninhabited world that was revealed by one of our deep-space probes, we were thrown off course by an unprecedented combination of mechanical problems and navigation errors. Damage was sufficiently extensive that we were unable to resume our original intended flow. Fuel and engineering limitations prevent us from returning home.
“While striving to find a suitable world on which to settle within the much-reduced range of our ship, we subsequently found ourselves brutally attacked and without warning. Our assailants gave us no opportunity to elaborate upon our wholly peaceful intentions. As a result, we have been fleeing and defending ourselves ever since.”
As the biped suddenly muted the sound, he glanced behind himself without turning his body. McCoy carefully whispered, “He’s like an owl.” Everyone on the bridge of the Enterprise had noticed that this new species was able to rotate their heads almost a full hundred and eighty degrees on their short necks.
The alien resumed communications. “Though it may at first appear otherwise, our ship has been seriously damaged and we have suffered casualties. We are transporting a full colonial compliment of several thousand individuals, including reproductive females and subadults. Though we possess some limited defensive capability, the Eparthaa is not a warship and repeated assaults have left us hard-pressed to maintain its structural integrity. Hence the desperate broadcasting of our omnidirectional distress call. We do not know you and you do not know us, but we appeal to you as fellow peaceful sentients. Will you help us, Captain Kirk of the Federation?”
* * *
Down in engineering, where the crew had been following the transmission, the chief engineer summarized the unexpected situation in his usual pithy fashion.
“By Wallace’s bleedin’ underwear!” Montgomery Scott turned to his first assistant. “Just what we need on a supposed shakedown mission—a request for help from a colony ship full of wee, sleekit, cowerin’, timorous beasties!”
Assistant Engineer Lieutenant Arif Ben-Haim was gazing in fascination at the image on the screen. “They may be wee, and I don’t have a clue what ‘sleekit’ is, but they don’t look very cowering or timorous to me, Mister Scott.” He gestured at a nearby readout. “I’ve seen their shields. Minimum power, maximum shields.”
Scott harrumphed. “Well, if I know anything about our captain, we’ll bloody well find out soon enough. Be ready for any sudden demands for power.” As Ben-Haim turned to pass the word, the chief engineer continued to study the screen. “And somebody see if they can find where I left the last half of my sandwich!”
* * *
“Captain, these people have suffered damage and incurred injuries,” said Spock. “You do have it within your purview to render assistance. However, if they have been attacked and may be again, then by offering assistance, you will place us in the position of appearing to be their allies. At the moment, we have only Leaderesque Taell’s version of what may have transpired. We know nothing of his species or of his claimed assailants, nor what may have provoked conflict between them. He may be telling us the truth, or some version of it. It is imperative that we ascertain which he is telling us before we proceed. We should not place ourselves in a position where our actions might lead to a misinterpretation of the Federation’s official position with regard to the Perenoreans or whoever may have assaulted them. For all we know, the Perenoreans may very well be the aggressors.”
McCoy considered this before replying. “Maybe a visit to their vessel to see for ourselves the condition of wounded females and offspring might preempt the need for excessive diplomatic caution, Mister Spock.”
Inured by now to the doctor’s characteristic sarcasm, the science officer replied without rancor. “I agree that it would be a useful first step, Doctor. Visible evidence of aggression against palpable noncombatants could certainly serve to underscore the veracity of this Taell’s narrative.”
Sulu’s eyes widened and his hands suddenly flew over his instrumentation as he leaned forward. “I think something else is going to take precedent over a ship-to-ship visit, Mister Spock.” He looked back at Kirk. “We have incoming, Captain!”
2
Shields on full!” Kirk shouted. “Red alert, arm photon torpedoes!”
Throughout the ship, meals were abandoned unfinished, conversations terminated in midsentence, and casual activities cast aside as the crew scrambled for battle stations. On the bridge, all attention remained focused on the forward viewscreen. The last image they had of the Perenorean leaderesque Taell showed him turning away from his own bridge’s visual pickup, his fluid multijointed gestures increasingly rapid, an inescapable manifestation of panic spreading across his flattened, furry face.
His likeness was replaced by a far larger field of view supplied by Chekov, which revealed first one, then two, and finally three new vessels emerging from warp. Considerably smaller than the Eparthaa, they were equally alien in appearance, as different from the Perenorean vessel as the large craft was from the Starfleet ship.
The trio of newcomers came out firing. But not at the Enterprise.
Flattened dull gray hulls with scalloped flanks featured triple-engine nacelles mounted underneath the convex main body of each starship. Varying only a little in size from one another, each massed slightly less than the watching Federation vessel. It was impossible to tell from looking at them if the simple, unnecessarily streamlined design was the result of a different engineering approach or alien aesthetics. At first glance, the basic shape and construction implied a lower grade of technology than that possessed by the Federation.
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.”