Honor - Kevin Killiany [38]
Her luck held. The blade snapped first try. And she stayed on her feet.
Corsi brought the broken blade up, almost in a salute, then flung it away.
“We share life,” she said quietly. Then again loudly so the nearer crowd could hear. “We share life!”
“We share life!” the K’k’tict chorused. Her combadge—and another, she was sure, now somewhere close behind them—carried the words clearly to the Smaunif.
She felt tears streaming down her face, but she didn’t care. She swung her right arm wide, indicating the K’k’tict, the Smaunif, and the bloody corpses strewn about the killing field.
“We are one spirit!”
“We are one spirit!” the K’k’tict repeated.
Corsi leaned close to the kneeling Sonandal. She’d had a speech prepared, what she would tell these invaders when she had the chance. But as she looked into the bewildered eyes centimeters from her own she realized none of those things were right.
None of those things were K’k’tict.
“We all share life,” she said quietly. “We are all one.”
Chapter
18
Corsi stood across from Captain Gold’s desk in his ready room. He hadn’t invited her to sit. He was reading her report, rereading it, she knew. He didn’t look happy.
“What would you recommend for the Zhatyra system, Corsi?” he asked at last. “What would you like to see happen next?”
“I’d like to see the Smaunif sent packing,” she answered promptly, keeping it formal. “Failing that, relocate their colony to the southern continent.”
Though Copper and his tree town had not known of other volcanic birthing caves, the anthropological satellites had documented dozens more, all in the northern hemisphere and around the equator. The southern continent, with its placid plate tectonics and lack of volcanoes, was the only uninhabited region on Zhatyra II.
Gold sighed. “How would you characterize your compliance with the Prime Directive?” he asked.
“Under the circumstances, fair,” Corsi replied. “Particularly given both Pattie and I were injured and unconscious when contact was made. Except for our combadges, the natives saw no advanced technology function.”
All of their personal equipment, the Waldo Egg, even Pattie’s Klingon dagger, had been recovered by transporter without witnesses. Just as Corsi and Pattie had been.
“Starfleet may determine your actions on Zhatyra II warrant an inquiry.”
“Sir?”
“You’re a Starfleet officer,” Gold said. “Blue isn’t held to the same standard you are because she hasn’t had your Academy training. You’re expected to know, and to uphold, the Prime Directive.”
“Neither Pattie nor I ever did or said anything to indicate we weren’t native to Zhatyra II,” Corsi said, careful to keep her voice in report mode. “Nor did we at any time mention the possibility of life on other worlds.”
Gold rubbed the back of his left hand. A sure tell he was worried. “Of course protecting developing cultures from the disruption of advanced technology or life on other worlds is part of the Prime Directive,” Gold said. “But those considerations are not the key, not the fundamental reason behind the directive.” He sighed, leaning back from his desk. “The purpose of the Prime Directive is to remind us we do not have the right to impose our moral view, our cultural values, on another people simply because we have better weapons. It’s there to keep us from playing God. ”
Corsi blinked.
“You mean I shouldn’t have done anything?” she asked. “And we aren’t going to do anything?”
Leaning back in his chair, Gold again sighed. “The answer to your first question is no—absolutely, you had to act. And, in fact, what you did may not have been to the letter of the Prime Directive, but it was definitely in the spirit. By letting the Smaunif know what the K’k’tict really are, you made it more likely that they’ll stop damaging the K’k’tict’s culture. But it also means the answer to your second