Gulliver's Fugitives - Keith Sharee [10]
She surprised herself, for she found she could achieve that coolness, that absolute restraint, at least for the moment. It was a place of respite and eased her anxiety.
“Five minutes until orbital insert, Captain,” said Ensign Crusher, navigating.
“Subspace communications, Mr. Data?” asked Picard.
“Blocked by the nebula, Captain.”
“Sensor information on the planet?”
“Coming in range now. I’m picking up electromagnetic transmissions from the surface. Radio band.”
“Please put them through the translator.”
“That will not be necessary, sir. They are in our own language.”
The bridge became very quiet. Picard rose slowly.
“Put them on the speakers, Mr. Data.”
Data touched his controls. For several moments, the bridge crew listened to a mix of voices—telephone conversations, weather forecasts, civilian navigational chatter. An entire populated planet going about its business.
Riker, sitting to Picard’s right, spoke up.
“There are no Federation colonies on record here, Captain. No Starfleet ship besides the Huxley has ever strayed near this nebula.”
“That was only ten years ago,” said the captain, “not time enough to seed an entire society. I’d say we’ve discovered an already established independent human colony.” Picard looked at Troi. “We may not have found your Other-worlders, but what we’ve got may be just as important.”
The captain turned to the teenage ensign at the Conn station.
“All stop, Mr. Crusher.”
“Answering all stop, sir.”
Worf’s dark eyes scanned his board quickly. “Sir, we are being hailed.”
“Put it on the screen, if you can.”
The bridge viewscreen filled with the face of a human male in his mid-thirties, blond-haired, sternly handsome, with features that could have been carved from oak. He wore a military-type uniform with neat rows of insignia on his chest. Some of the insignia had tiny glowing lights worked into their designs.
“Starship,” he said, “we have observed you and we know you come from Earth. You have entered the sovereign space of Rampart. We will have no quarrel with you if you leave the area immediately.” He looked off-screen, as though consulting with someone, then back. “If you don’t, we will be forced to attack.”
Everyone on the bridge stared at the face, as each individual pondered how—and why—an apparent entire civilization of humans had developed here, unknown to the United Federation of Planets.
Troi noticed a vein pulsing in Picard’s temple. She could sense his distaste. He always loathed the kind of bombast he’d just heard; but, as usual, he held his feelings in check. His voice was calm.
“Worf, open to their frequency. Audio only.”
“Open, sir.”
“This is Jean-Luc Picard, captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise, from the United Federation of Planets,” said Picard. “We are here on an investigative matter. We mean you no harm. What is your name?”
“I am Major Ferris,” said the man on the screen. “We want nothing to do with Earth or your Federation; that is why our ancestors left Earth and came here two hundred years ago.”
Picard turned back to Worf, and said, in a low voice, “Give them visual of us.”
Then he turned back toward the viewscreen.
He gave Major Ferris a long moment to look him over and absorb the placid, non-military ambience of the Enterprise bridge.
“The Federation does not wish to interfere in the affairs of your world,” Picard said benignly. “Our Prime Directive prohibits our meddling with any society we encounter. We are here merely to investigate the disappearance of the U.S.S. Huxley, lost on or near your planet ten Solar years ago.
Ferris once again looked to his side, as if seeking and receiving counsel. Then he turned back, square-jawed. “Your investigation would be a waste. No ship from Earth, besides our own colony vessel, has ever been here. Our records are complete and accurate. There are no lies on this world. Your story of the Huxley is what we call a Code HC, a deliberately concocted fiction. Permission