Boogeymen - Mel Gilden [8]
“Actually, sir, I was looking for something a little more unusual.”
Shubunkin nodded and said, “You want more interesting aliens. Faster, less predictable aliens.”
“Right. Absolutely.”
Shubunkin stroked his chin. He said, “The Borders scale might be of use.”
“Borders scale?”
“It’s a complex scale of social, intellectual, and emotional values. Among other things, six different kinds of creativity are listed, as well as honor, courage, mercy, fierceness, ruthlessness, arrogance, and mental and physical speed. Hundreds of categories. I believe Borders even created a subsection concerning sense of humor. Her scale is a useful tool when trying to quantify similarities and differences between races.”
Wesley squinted as he considered the possibilities. He said, “There must be more to it than just plugging in random numbers.”
“Certainly. The first value to some extent defines what the second must be. The first and second together help define the third. All creatures are consistent within their own system. The thing that makes one race seem alien to another is the difference between their systems.”
Wesley saw that creating a new alien, even using the Borders scale, would be quite a challenge. After learning all he could about the scale from the library computer, he could probably get Geordi La Forge to help with the programming.
The computer said, “Personal memo for Wesley Crusher: Your bridge watch begins in ten minutes.”
“Acknowledged. Thanks, Lieutenant. You’ve been a big help.”
“I’m sure.”
As Wesley walked quickly from the room, he wondered if Shubunkin was being arrogant again or if this was another case of his saying what he meant. Wesley could not help feeling that Shubunkin was strange, even for a first-contact specialist.
As the Enterprise dropped out of warp, Picard glanced at the man in the seat on his right. He was large and round with side-whiskers rather longer than regulations allowed. His thick face shone as if he were sweating despite the controlled climate of the Enterprise. His chubby fingers never stopped moving on the arms of the chair. The form-fitting design of the Starfleet uniform did not make him look thinner, though the short cape he affected helped. Commander Riker stood behind and above him, next to Worf at the tactical rail.
Ensign Crusher came onto the bridge with a minute to spare before his watch began. Winston-Smyth gave up her chair at the conn, and Wesley sat down, immediately logging in his arrival with a few deft touches on the control panel.
Feeling much too much like a tour guide, Picard said, “We’ve just dropped out of warp, Commander Mont. Mr. Data, how long till we reach Tantamon Four?”
“Fourteen minutes and twenty-two seconds, sir.”
“Let’s have it on screen.”
On the main viewscreen, the forward star field wavered and an Earth-type planet appeared. From this distance, Tantamon IV seemed to be covered with gray-green moss on which some cotton wool had snagged. Picard was always amazed how many planets looked like that from space, like the human home world. The Enterprise was his home, but like many humans, Picard felt a spiritual connection to the green hills of Terra that never quite went away.
“Standard orbit, Mr. Crusher.”
“Aye, sir.”
Commander Mont smiled, and his hands were still. He looked like a hungry man mesmerized by a table laden with food, Picard thought.
In his gruff voice, Mont said, “It’s a likely-looking place.”
Likely for what? Picard wondered. Mont seemed to enjoy saying things that barely made sense. Still, he was the one Starfleet had sent to debrief Baldwin after his six months on the planet below. Mont must be good at his job.
The aft turbolift doors opened, and Lieutenant Shubunkin entered the bridge. With his eyes on the screen, he stepped forward.
Picard said, “Mr. Worf, please inform Professor Baldwin of our imminent arrival.”
“Aye, sir.