Requiem - Michael Jan Friedman [2]
Crusher took a moment to gather his thoughts. “They are obviously reptilian, closely resembling Earth crocodilians and lizards. They’re what we used to call cold-blooded. Lacking a mammal’s internal thermostat and the need to maintain a constant temperature, their bodies require less fuel and are almost certainly able to survive in harsh climates with little available food and water. And of course, they have a high degree of intelligence.”
“And they’re highly aggressive,” Vigo volunteered. “After all, their first contact with the Federation was the attack on Cestus Three.”
“True,” Crusher allowed. He manipulated the viewscreen controls, and an image of a Gorn appeared. “Following a reptilian model, it stands to reason that the Gorn are very territorial. They also appear to move slowly for a sentient species, and slower reptiles tend to have an immediate fight response. They did claim that the attack on Cestus Three was a defensive measure, which is why, ultimately, the base was ceded to the Gorn.”
Picard gestured for Crusher to sit. “Excellent insights, which we will have to bear in mind.”
“Unfortunate that we don’t know more,” Ben Zoma sighed.
“Certainly,” Picard replied. “But I doubt we will ever have all the information we need or would like. For now, we can think the best of the Gorn initiative and hope that they will not disappoint us.” Picard anticipated Vigo’s response. “Though we shall proceed with caution and take every possible precaution to ensure our own safety—so that we are able to report our findings back to Starfleet.”
Picard leveled his eyes at Ben Zoma. “Prepare a landing party that includes representatives of all of the sciences, and a full security team. We may very well be witnessing history here, gentlemen. These days will both test and define us. For now, all we can do is keep our best foot forward when we meet our hosts.”
Seventeen hours later, Picard was on the bridge when the Stargazer reached the Gorn’s coordinates.
“Coming into visual range, sir,” the ensign at communications announced.
The captain was out of his chair before he gave his order. “On screen, full magnification.” The oblong shape of the Gorn ship appeared on the forward viewer.
Picard’s next comment was addressed to the bridge crew at large. “We are privileged to be the first Starfleet crew to see a Gorn starship. No other vessel has come this close.”
“Full sensor scan, sir?” Crusher asked without taking his eyes off the screen.
“Absolutely not, Mr. Crusher. They might find a full scan invasive. Passive sensors only.”
Quiet ruled the bridge for the next few moments as the crew watched the growing image of the Gorn ship. It had two nacelles, which Picard recognized as typical of most warp-capable spacefaring races. The Gorn’s nacelles were forward-swept on the underside of the vessel—the most graceful feature of a ship that was fairly stark, with hard angles.
We are the first, Picard thought, with the mixture of pride and gratitude that had characterized so much of his Starfleet career. The first to see this ship. And we will be the first to know these beings.
Ben Zoma was the first to break the silence. “She won’t win any prizes for beauty.”
“For that matter, neither will we,” Jack chimed in.
Picard smiled and let the comment pass.
“The Gorn are raising shields; sir,” Crusher said, his voice carrying the concern that Picard felt as well.
“Shields, Captain?” Vigo asked from the weapons console.
“No,” Picard said without hesitation. “We will take no provocative action.”
“Their phaser banks are on-line, sir,” Crusher added. And then before Picard could respond: “They’re discharging.”
Two greenish beams leapt out from the underside of the Gorn ship. From the angle of the beams, Picard could tell that they would strike the main hull. An instant later, he felt a subtle vibration through the deck of his ship. Strange, he mused. By rights, a full-power shot should have shaken them much harder, even if the Gorn hadn’t upgraded their weapons at all in the seventy-five years since their last encounter with the