No Surrender - Jeff Mariotte [8]
He remembered one of his many philosophical arguments with Gus back in their Academy days—an argument, he was sure in hindsight, that every single Academy cadet had at some point. They’d been walking, after dark, on the footpaths across the well-manicured Academy grounds. Crickets buzzed insistently around them and the occasional night-flying bird whisked by overhead. They’d been talking about the Prime Directive—Gus defending it in every instance, and Gold arguing for a more liberal interpretation.
“Imagine a planet,” Gold finally said, “full of intelligent, creative, insightful beings. They’re still developing as a society, but beginning to make great strides, in medical research especially. Within a few generations they’ll make incredible progress, learning how to prevent thousands of diseases and plagues around the universe. Billions of lives will be saved because of their research.”
“But of course, you can’t know that they’ll achieve this promise,” Gus had interjected.
“Not at the present, no—you can only judge how advanced they are scientifically now, and estimate what they might be able to do in years to come. But they won’t get that chance, because an enormous asteroid is on a collision course with the planet. When it hits, the near-total extinction of the race is a certainty. They’ve put their efforts into medicine, not interstellar travel. They have nowhere to go. We could save them—we could try to evacuate them, or we could intercept the asteroid and destroy it, or push it off course. But that would interfere with their ‘normal development,’ according to you. So not only are they doomed, but billions more across the galaxies, because they will never achieve their potential. So tell me, how is the Prime Directive beneficial here?”
Gus stopped on the path, hands on his hips. “It’s beneficial because it has to be applied with equal fairness in all cases, David. If you choose to interfere because you like that race, and you think they’ll be useful someday, do you also choose to save a vicious, warlike race from the same fate? Perhaps they will turn out to be a bane on the universe, enslaving and murdering billions.”
“Perhaps that’s the chance you have to take to save the good guys,” Gold argued.
“No surrender, Gold,” Gus said. “No surrender.”
Which meant, in Gus’s vocabulary, that the matter was closed, the argument over. It was infuriating, and yet somehow endearing at the same time.
He turned his attention back to the viewscreen, listening to the away team via communicators. Once they passed into the station, they’d be out of touch behind the prison’s still-functioning shields.
“We’re into the shuttlebay,” Sonya Gomez said. “We’re going inside now.”
“Be careful,” he replied, knowing she would anyway.
“My middle name,” she said simply.
“Don’t believe her, sir,” Duffy said. “Her middle name’s Guadalupe.”
* * *
Sonya found the access hatchway from the shuttlebay, and then stepped back to let Corsi and her security contingent go in first. The Kursicans were basically humanoid in size and physique, though with orange, pebbled-looking skin, heads that came to fairly sharp points, and hands that consisted of three prehensile tail-like appendages instead of fingers. But the hatches and furnishings of the station would be of a size and design that would be comfortable to humans.
Corsi held a tricorder out in front of her as she passed through the hatch. Apparently the readings were satisfactory, because she disappeared into the interior, motioning for Drew, Hawkins, and Frnats to follow her. In a moment, Sonya heard Corsi’s voice. “It’s an old-fashioned airlock,” she said. “Come