Intellivore - Diane Duane [16]
Picard smiled slightly, got up, and headed for the ready room.
He was glad to have time to go over some of the Lalairu material himself. Data had already thoughtfully prepared an index with descriptions of some of the files in the material, and Picard scanned down it on his screen, having already told the computer to deselect any material of strictly astrophysical interest; Data was better equipped than he to deal with that sort of thing.
Archaeological information, though, that was another question. Picard had spent some time the previous evening going over abstracts of the information that Marignano had picked up on her tour of duty so far. Clif might say what he liked about a course looking like the drunken staggers, but Picard was beginning to think that this kind of approach had something to recommend it. Ileen had walked on the surfaces of planets Picard had only read about in archaeological journals. The thought of being able to get out there—not just occasionally but almost routinely—and see such things, walk on such worlds, knee deep in the past …
Picard saw with astonishment that Ileen and her crew on Marignano had discovered, or rediscovered, Enser—an ancient avian civilization. The avians apparently saw Kepler’s Star from fairly near at hand when it went supernova and had construed the sudden mighty light in the sky as a sign of war in heaven. He was delighted to find that an old theory of his turned out to be true. Over the course of centuries, the avians had remade themselves—retooling their own biology from that of a planet-bound, oxygen-breathing species to one that ingested light and radiation in almost any form, using it to power the great winged bodies they built for themselves. And when they had all undergone the change, they launched themselves into the interstellar night to do battle with the universe for the soul of God.
Picard shook his head at the image, awed and amazed. Who knew how many of the Enser had made their way to Kepler’s Star and died there like moths in a candle flame, destroyed by the excess of radiation, or glory, unnecessary martyrs to the forces of nature. But necessity, Picard thought, is in the eye of the beholder … even when the result was a species dead in the heart of a supernova, and an empty planet that would never hear their wing beats again.
And yet another world, a vast primeval forest—
The communicator chirped. “Captain,” said Mr. Worf’s voice, “I have a response from Boreal. As you said, I had to keep at them—they seem reluctant to communicate. The signal quality is not of the best, but they are not too far away.”
“Put them on my screen, then.”
“Sir, the communication is voice only.”
“A problem at their end?”
“Not that I can detect.”
Picard put up his eyebrows. “Very well. Boreal, this is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Starship Enterprise.”
There was a fizz and crackle of static, not unexpected, really, since this whole region of space was filled with ionization from Kepler’s Star. “The pleasure is completely one-sided,” said an annoyed voice at one end. “I told the other ship the other day, and I’ll tell you now: we came out here to get away from you. We don’t want you around us. Leave us alone.”
“I would like to speak to the master of Boreal, please,” Picard said, firmly but politely.
“He’s not available,” said the abrupt voice at the other end. “This isn’t his shift. Just like you people to expect him here just because you’re calling. You can speak to me.”
“And who are you, please?”
“I’m the team leader of the Third Submission colony group,” said the voice. “Our names aren’t for outsiders to hear.”
“How shall I address you, then?”
“I don’t want you to address me. What do you think I am, a public meeting? I want you to stop bothering us.”
“Sir,” Picard said. “Team leader, if I may. You must understand that, as one of the Federation’s starships on patrol in this area, I have a responsibility to—”
“You have no responsibility that we recognize,” said the voice angrily. “Responsibility