"We cannot continue in this way," the bishop declared, his gaze slowly sweeping the long table and the twenty-four other people who sat around it. Instead of an Executive Council meeting, the bishop had requested a session of the full Planning Committee. It was a gamble. The rules were different, the dynamics unsure----nobody could count on committee member votes. Although the Executive Council could override any vote or action taken by the Planning Committee, but acted independently as well), they'd need seven votes out of eight to do so.
I was sitting with Sophia Garcia and Dr. J. in chairs set back from the table. We were there primarily to answer questions, but it was also understood that we could participate in any aspect of the discussion, so long as we didn't abuse that privilege. The eight Executive Council members sat together at one end of the table, Jean-Luc at the head. Then there was a gap the size of an empty seat on each side, and the other members of the Planning Committee occupied the remainder of the table.
"The exploration of the alien starship must end now," the bishop continued. "Before there are any more deaths."
Nobody objected to his argument, but nobody spoke out in support of it, either. Caution all around. When it became clear that even the bishop was not going to take it any further unless I pushed, I spoke up."
"The bishop says we cannot continue this way. I would agree with that much. But I would also argue that we can't abandon the alien ship. There are two reasons. First, there's the possibility of other human survivors like the old woman. I find it incredible to believe that on that whole ship, with large sections habitable for human beings, there was only one person aboard. If there were others on board that ship right now, and we abandon them, we are responsible for their deaths."
Again there was no response, as if everybody was content to let me and the bishop argue the issue between us---possibly they were afraid of the responsibility for any decisions. But I could feel the tension gradually increasing throughout the room as people sensed the building confrontation.
"Before I respond to your point," the bishop said, "what's the second reason?"
"The alien starship is far too important to be left behind. There has never been anything like it. It's the greatest discovery the Enterprise has ever made, and possibly the greatest discovery anyone has ever made in human history. It's potential value is unlimited. We have no way of knowing what we may find."
The bishop sighed heavily. "Not everybody would agree with your characterization of 'greatness.' But that aside, we do know what we have found. Evil. Death. And one tortured soul. There's nothing to suggest we'll ever find anything more than that." He shrugged. "And that is my response to both of your points."
"There is plenty to suggest we'll find more than that," I said. "The alien starship is so big, it hold months, if not years, of exploration. That's daunting, perhaps, but also exhilarating. Leave it all behind? If we abandon it now, the odds are---if you will excuse the expression---astronomical against its ever being found again."
The bishop smiled slyly, without looking directly at me. "Oh it'll be found again because it wants to be found."
"What do you mean by that?" asked LaForge.
But the bishop only shook his head and would not reply. I knew what he meant, but I wasn't going to explain it either.
Silence hung in the room. I waited, hoping someone else would venture into the discussion----preferably taking my side, naturally. If the debate remained between the bishop and me, I knew I would lose.
I could sense Sophia and Dr. J. shifting in their seats beside me, but neither spoke up. It's just as well, I thought. I needed support from outside sources. But I needed something.
The bishop was leaning back in his chair with a sense of satisfaction, and I had just decided I couldn't wait any longer, when Hannelore McCarr, the chair of the Planning Committee, spoke.
"We should carefully consider what Pavel has said. For both of his reasons, but primarily the possibility of other survivors. He's right about one thing. If there are any, and we abandon that ship, we are abandoning them. If they die, we're responsible."
"But if we leave, we'd never know either way," LaForge said.
"Does that make it right? That we wouldn't know if we'd left anyone to die?"
"That's not what I meant," LaForge said defensively.
"Then what did you mean?"
"I was just pointing out that there is no way for us to know. We could spend the rest of our lives searching for survivors that don't exist. When do we stop?"
Pike spoke up. "We surely don't stop after finding one survivor. That makes no sense at all."
"Maybe it's like Schrodinger's Cat," the bishop said with an amused expression. "As long as we don't look for them, as long as we don't explore any more of the alien ship, then there's no one really there. Or if they are there, they're neither dead nor alive. Finding them could be the worst thing for them."
"What the hell are you talking about?" asked a man named Kobryn. "What's a Schrodinger's Cat?"
Urbas answered, shaking her head. "The bishop misunderstands it, either deliberately or through ignorance. I won't speculate on which." The bishop's expression hardened. "It's an ancient, theoretical paradox suggested by quantum theory," she added. "First, it's theoretical, as I said, and probably has no actual application in the physical world. Second, it's completely irrelevant to the discussion. It has absolutely nothing to do with whether or not there are any more people on that ship, and nothing to do with whether they are alive or dead."
I was afraid someone was going to ask her to explain it, anyway, but thankfully nobody did. The bishop leaned forward as though to say something, but then thought better of it. He settled back in his chair, eyelids lowered, his expression not at all softened.
"Let's get aback to it." This was said by Dessie Quasdorf , a dark-haired woman blind in one eye from a wild bird attack in one of the nature rooms when she was a child. "While I have sympathy with Pavel and others concerning the possibility of survivors, there are some important considerations. Even if we assume there are other survivors, and I suspect that's actually unlikely, how much are we willing to pay to search for them? Look at the cost thus far." She looked down at her hand screen. "Six dead, and another ten or twelve with severe psychological problems. All to save one woman who's lost her mind and may never recover. At that rate, we'll have half the population of the Enterprise dead or deranged in another year, and we'll have rescued a few dozen traumatized men and women who'll need special care for the rest of their lives."
A few people laughed, but most realized that Dessie was essentially serious. I could feel Sophia getting angry beside me, could sense her trying to keep her anger under control. She stood and spoke, her voice tight but steady.
"We also might find a section with a hundred survivors tomorrow, if we go back in. We have to take that into consideration as well."
The dynamics in the room shifted, and several people started talking at once. Suddenly everyone wanted in.
I sat quietly in my chair for the next hour as the discussion and arguments swirled back and forth and all around. For a long time it didn't seem that any one point of view was dominant, but during the last part of that hour I started to sense a subtle coalescing of opinion---most people wanted to stay and continue searching for more survivors; but the majority of those who wanted to stay also felt the risks and dangers were too great, and the possible benefits didn't outweigh the probable costs.641Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡo2A4tZGPdg
I had to get back into the discussion before it was too late. I'd been hoping it wouldn't come to this, but I'd known it likely would. I stood and waited for the talking to subside as the committee members turned to look at me.
"I've got a proposal to make," I finally said. There must have been something in my voice because I could sense a palpable intensifying of their attention.
As I stood there preparing to speak, I wondered at how much had changed in the last year. Before, these same people would have been listening to me, but only to gauge what Jean-Luc was thinking and planning, to assess the political currents and to aid their own ambitions. Now, I felt sure that many of them were listening to me with a genuine interest in what I had to say. It was different for me, too. My proposal was coming from me, from what I believed, and not just to achieve some subtle (or even unsubtle) manipulation of people and actions.
"A full-scale, comprehensive exploration of the alien starship is beyond our capabilities," I began. "We do not have the time, or the human and physical resources needed to do it right. But I will reiterate what I passionately believe---that the alien starship is too vital to abandon. I've already explained why, and more than once."
I paused, looking around the room. "There's also the question of more survivors. But that, too, is problematic. Even if we could agree that it was worthwhile to spend more time searching, it's clear that we can't agree on how to decide when we've done enough.
"We've already done enough," the bishop interjected."
"So you've said," I replied. "But there's no universal agreement about that."
"Give us your damn proposal!" LaForge demanded.
"All right," I said. "We leave, but we take the alien ship with us."
That set them off. For five minutes the meeting room was a demented, disorganized chorus of voices. Finally Jean-Luc stood, and held up his hands until the babble faded.
"There'll be plenty of time for----discussion," he said. "Later. For now, let's hear from Pavel, let him explain what it is he's suggesting."
I nodded my thanks. "Just what I said. We take the alien ship with us." I paused for a moment, organizing my thoughts. "I don't know how, but I'm fairly sure it can be done. We would ask the experts----Urbas and her crew, I'd say. Tether it to us with cables, maybe. The details aren't important at the moment...."
"The details are always important," someone interrupted."
"They will be important, but not right now. For the moment, let's assume it can be done. The question becomes: To what purpose?"
"As I said, we don't have the resources for a thoroughgoing exploration of the alien starship. But it needs to be done. It must be done, or too much will be lost. What we do then, is take it with us so someone else, someone who does have the time and resources, can do it right." I paused again, looking around at everybody. "We need to rediscover civilization."
I was shocked by the restraint, by the rapt attention. There was some squirming, and I could sense the struggle within a few people to refrain from throwing questions at me.
I sensed Jean-Luc's excitement and anticipation. Urbas was nodding to herself, both waiting for me to continue and, I knew, trying to work out the logistics of taking the alien ship with us. And Bishop Worf steamed silently, his half-closed eyes radiating something close to hatred.
"There are worlds out there," I said, gesturing expansively with my right hand, "worlds we haven't seen in centuries, if ever. Worlds with millions, billions of people, huge thriving cities of advanced civilization, powered by wonders of technology, and with the resources to explore the alien starship in a way we never can. All we need to do is find one of those worlds."
"Yes,' the bishop said, nodding and smiling. "That should be an easy task."
Someone snickered, but choked it off quickly. Nobody was really sure where this was going to end.
"No," I said, "it won't be easy. But there must be a way. There must be records somewhere in this ship. The Enterprise must have visited worlds or systems like that in the past. If nothing else, it had to have been built in orbit around one of those worlds, if not Earth itself."
Before the bishop could interrupt me, I turned to him and held up a hand. "I know what Bishop Worf claims---that the Enterprise has always existed. Presumably created outside of time in some way and disconnected from Earth." I shook my head. "But none of us really believes that. I'm fairly sure the bishop himself doesn't believe it."
The bishop surged up from his chair. "You!" he roared. "I have had enough from you! Now you presume to tell me, tell all of us, what I believe. I will not have it!"
I'd gone to far. His arms trembled, his hands gripped the table's edge; his skin was flushed and sweating. I had to do something.641Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2TZeeMN6XU
I bowed my head once, then said, "I apologize, Bishop. I was out of line---" I hesitated, not sure what else to say. Saying too much could be just as bad as saying too little. "I apologize." I left it at that.641Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaRrLfcGsEZ
He remained standing a long time, glaring at me. Neither of us had good opinions. He could walk out of the meeting, but that would be dangerous for him; he needed to know what happened, he needed to see and hear it; he needed to be there to try to influence the outcome. As for me, I could do no more than I had. And I still had to complete my presentation. I wasn't backing down now, and I couldn't afford to appear as if I had any hesitation. The bishop would leap on any sign of weakness.641Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYNs6n8gv5K
The silence and the tension stretched out until at last the bishop breathed once and nodded. "All right, Pavel." He slowly lowered himself back into his chair. "I will accept your apology. But that doesn't mean I will accept your absurd notions, your lunatic proposal."
Okay, I thought. I now have a standoff. I turned to Pike. "Christopher. You're the ship's historian. You know our records. What do they tell us about what I'm looking for?"
The old man slowly shook his head. "They are incomplete. Or rather, they are complete only for the last two hundred seventy-three years. That is when they began. We have nothing before that."
"Two hundred seventy-three years?" I repeated. "That's all?"
Pike nodded.
"Why? The Enterprise has been around much longer than that. It's understood. According to the bishop, it's been around forever."
"Something happened," Pike said.
"What?"
Pike shrugged. "A plague that went through the Enterprise. Most of you have heard about it. In itself it should not have caused such---devastation. But people got scared, and many went mad. That time came to be called the Repudiation."
I'd heard the name, a few stories, but I'd never been sure it was more than a myth. Nobody seemed to care much about it; it had occurred so long ago. I'd imagined mobs of diseased people tearing through the corridors of the Enterprise, burning everything they could lay their hands on, destroying machinery, defacing walls, screaming at everyone they saw.
"Before it had run its course, the plague killed almost a third of the population of the Enterprise. The Church was blamed by some. God by others. The ship, captain, and crew by still others. The Church managed to protect itself, but several factions of scared and maddened people took over the Enterprise for a short time. Only a few weeks, but long enough to disable much of the ship's infrastructure, and purge the ship's logs and navigational records. When the crew regained control of the Enterprise, most functions were restored, but the logs and other records were never recovered."
He leaned on his cane and adjusted his position. "Before that, there was no official ship History. The only official records were in the ship's logs." He sighed heavily, shaking his head. "But they were all destroyed. Which is why the History was begun, to provide an alternate record should anything like that occur again."
Someone spoke up, asking the question I was about to ask myself. "Couldn't the ship History be destroyed as easily as the ship's logs?"
Pike smiled. "There are too many copies made, distributed and hidden throughout the ship, in various formats. Even I don't know how many, or who has them. Some would always survive."
"But there is nothing in these that can help us," I said.
Pike shook his head. "That's not quite true. There is an Appendix to the History, recorded summaries of what the early historians remembered or had been told about the decades and centuries that preceded the beginning of the official History. It makes for fascinating reading, particularly the disucssions of the Repudiation and the years leading up to it, but by its nature the Appendix is fragmentary, anecdotal, sketchy in parts. There are, however, several references to just what you want, Pavel. Star systems with populated worlds, interplanetary transportation, political and social networks. But when we encountered those systems, those worlds, we never stayed long. We were looking for isolated outposts, colonial settlments, lost missions. More importantly, there is no navigational data in the Appendix. There are planetary and system names, but no locational coordiates. The historians are not navigators. Only the ship's logs would have the information needed to locate any of those worlds."
I closed my eyes, thinking. "And the ship's logs were all destroyed?" I asked. I opened my eyes and turned to Urbas for confirmation. She nodded.
"Pike is correct. They were all destroyed."
"But we still have the star charts, right?" I wasn't giving up. "We don't navigate blindly, the charts still exist with all of the coordinates."
"But no names," Urbas said. "All named references were deleted except Earth's. We've gone back to Earth, many years ago, and there was nothing there. We have names without coordinates, and coordinates without names." She paused and sighed. "The Repudiators did a very thorough job. Navigators have worked with Pike and previous historians, trying to match the names and references in the History to what we have in the charts----" She shook her head. "We've never been able to do it."
I looked around the room. The bishop had a content, almost smug look on his face. "There must be records somewhere on this ship that weren't destroyed," I said. "No one can be that thorough. There are always dissidents who'll hide copies, who will smuggle information away. They must be out there somewhere."
"Probably," Jean-Luc replied. "But also probably lost, forgotten, damaged, accidentally destroyed."
I surveyed the room again. "Give us time to find them," I said. "We'll send a plea throughout the ship, to the downsiders as well as the upper levels. Just give us time."
"Why?" Bishop Worf rose slowly to his feet. "So more people can die? Even if we could find complete records somewhere, that doesn't make your proposal any less absurd. I said it earlier---that starship is evil. Even if we could take it with us, which I very much doubt is even possible, and even if we could find a world filled with a billion people and all their wonderful tools and resources, taking that ship to them would only increase the harm it can cause, would only spread its evil. Would only magnify the death and destruction." He paused for effect. "We cannot do it. We must not."
I turned to Urbas. "Can we do it?"
She nodded. "I think so. Your idea of tethering it to us with cables is probably not too practical. Acceleration is one thing, but trying to stop withoiut its ramming us from behind would be more difficult. But I think we could manufacture a docking mechanism that would be workable." She shrugged. "If the Planning Committee wants me to, I can talk to the engineers and work out the feasibility."
I nodded. "That's all I ask for now," I said. "Time to search for logs or historical records that point us to a place to go, and time for Urbas to explore the feasibility of taking the alien ship with us." I paused, thinking about whether or not I should suggest that, with or without the alien ship, it would be good for us to end our isolated wanderings, connect with real civilization again, but I thought it might actually scare some of them off. "That's all," I repeated. "No commitment to a course of action, just the time to explore the alternatives."
No one else said anything more. When we finally took the vote, it wasn't as close as I'd expected. The Planning Commitee gave us the time.
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