LESSONS LEARNED
by ardavenport
o o o Part 1
This new ship was big. With nothing by which to reference its size in the void of space and stars, they could not fathom its true greatness when they first saw it. Now they knew it was immense compared with their small, adopted craft. Its blue energy now entrapped them.
And within its strange shape, many people lived, all of them curiously unaware of them, totally insensitive to their presence. But they were still too far away to truly perceive any single individual's characteristics from such a large group.
She put her hand in that of her Dearest-Most Follower and hugged her to her side. Her Yearning-Most Follower put his arm around her waist while they watched a glowing opening in the new ship grow large in the window.
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"Tractor beam off," Data announced. Sitting in the command chair, Picard crossed his legs and watched the back of the android's head turn from side to side at the forward Ops station. "Docking procedure complete. Docking bay pressurizing."
"Proceed on our original heading," Picard ordered. It had been an easy catch. At first, it hadn't appeared that it would be. The mysterious ship had answered none of their hails, though it transmitted an uninterrupted signal that their computer interpreted as a distress. It had sped on toward Federation space at a steady warp 4.3 despite what course the Enterprise set. But as soon as they'd snared it with their tractor beams her engines had shut down and it had quietly allowed itself to be taken.
With the two secondary command seats empty to either side of him, Picard waited for Commander Riker's report on just who their new guests were.
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William Riker looked down at Deanna Troi carefully. She twitched and rolled her shoulders as if her clothes didn't quite fit right. Her long, curly black hair swayed behind her as she moved her head, her eyes half closed, her attention focused inward upon senses that Riker didn't share.
"Do you sense something new?" he asked.
"Yes," she answered quickly, "They're aware of us."
"Are they telepathic?"
"No, I don't think so," she replied uncertainly, her response hesitant.
"Empathic?"
She looked up, surprised, suddenly realizing the obvious. "Yes...they are!"
"Docking bay pressurized," Lieutenant Worf announced. Warily he stood next to the first officer. He trusted Counselor Troi's assessment that the occupants of the unknown ship were not a threat, but it was never a good idea for a warrior to let his guard down.
Riker pressed the door release on the control panel on the wall next to the portal and gestured for them to proceed. "Shall we?"
They entered. The ship sat quietly on the deck of the spacious hanger. Sleek and coated with a shiny silver, it reflected the room lights back at them. They saw fractured images of themselves in it's faceted hull as they approached. It looked fast and dart-like, though their technical assessment had estimated that it wouldn't go any faster than warp 5.
It's side split and a door opened out and upward. A staired ramp swung down to the deck.
Worf moved away from Commander Riker and Counselor Troi. At the slightest provocation, he would be ready with a counter-attack. Humanoids with short hair on top of their heads, pale tan skin, slender arms and bodies, exited the ship. They were two females and a male; they moved slowly, gracefully, as if they were tasting the air with their bodies. The three Enterprise officers advanced. The three aliens took cautious steps toward them in return.
"Hello," Deanna Troi spoke, her arms extended in greeting.
The taller female approached. Riker admiringly noted her elegantly long and shapely legs and torso, clad in a close fitting iridescent sea-green body suit that covered her from neck to toes, with exception of her bare arms. A whole head taller than Troi, her hair was dark brown with a deep greenish tint to it that matched her eyes. She briefly made eye contact with the commander before her attention focused on Troi; greeting, approval, welcome. Riker felt that he could read her thoughts just from that brief, expressive glance.
She raised her hands, her fingertips extended. Troi did the same. Their hands touched.
"Yes," Troi replied happily. "Yes, we want to know who you are." The alien's fingers, barely touching Troi, slid down the counselor's arms and back up again. "We like you, too."
The male extended his hand to the counselor. As with the taller female, the Betazoid could sense his presence, as real and as solid as his physical form. He wore silver boots and a silky, shiny black, long-sleeved short tunic, belted at the waist with a silver cord. His long legs were muscular and hairless, like a runner. He looked down at her with wonder that radiated to Troi like sunlight. His hair was short and mostly gray with a lingering trace of light brown in places and cut evenly at the bangs. He appeared older and was a few centimeters taller than Riker or Worf, but he still looked at least ten kilograms lighter than either the broad-chested commander and Klingon.
His hand darted forward to Troi's silver and gold communicator near the low collar of her blue dress. Worf tensed when he saw the sudden move, but the male did nothing more than touch the device. His brown eyes shone like an explorer having discovered a new civilization. As far as they knew, that was exactly what he was.
The second female was the shyest of the three. She seemed to hide in her pink and orange, sparkling caftan and she stayed close to the first female's side. Troi sensed her apprehension, her intense desire to leave this place of unknowns and return home. The counselor could just perceive an impression of a green planet and a cozy courtyard surrounded by the homes and apartments of friends and family. She appeared to be barely out of adolescence, her face round and youthful, her hair a straight, plain, mousy brown. She was young enough to make Riker wonder where her parents might be; neither of the other two looked even remotely like they might be related to her. Riker smiled down at her, trying to be reassuring, but any gesture at all from any of the Enterprise people seemed to just increase her fearfulness. Her pale brown eyes stared most warily at Worf.
Riker stepped forward. The meeting appeared to be going well except that all the spoken communication was coming from Troi and not being returned. Their guests were quite expressive and welcoming, but they hadn't uttered a sound.
Riker tapped his communicator. "Riker to Picard."
"Picard here."
"We've met the occupants of the ship. They're humanoids and they seem friendly enough, but not very talkative."
"Explain."
"They don't appear to use any form of verbal communication. Counselor Troi says that they're empathic, but we haven't been able to exchange anything more than good intentions."
"How many are there?"
"Three, sir, that we've seen so far." Worf, already at the open door to the ship, turned back to him and shook his head. The interior the commander could see was lit with gentle blue lighting and hung with shimmering curtains, but nothing moved within.
"I'll expect a report in half-an-hour. Picard out." Riker signed off. Worf was already calling for an engineering team to scan the ship.
The taller female glanced Riker's way looking closely at him for the first time. She smiled.
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These people were kind. She lay quietly while the Red-Haired One waved her devices over her and then sat up when she was bidden to. The actions of this strange woman meant nothing to her save that they were purposeful. She did these things often.
When the Red-Haired One laid her instruments aside she reached out and grasped this purposeful woman's blue-sleeved wrist. As delicate and pale as her own, the palm warmed her as she cupped it with her other hand. The alien woman stared back with wide, surprised, blue eyes that matched the coat she wore. She stroked the hand she held and raised it to her face. She gently rubbed the warm, soft skin of the back of the hand next to her cheek. Strange fluids pulsed within bone and flesh, similar to her own, but of a flavor she had never imagined before. But still no response radiated from the Red-Haired One. She remained as unaware of the depth of her touch as the body's tiny cells were of the true purpose of their living.
She could see that this woman was rarely touched in such a way. It seemed sad, but none of these people touched each other physically, not even casually. Even the Darkest-Most-Eyes One stayed apart from her comrades like a stranger.
Next to her, her Dearest-Most Follower took her lead. Her small hand cautiously reached up to touch the Red-Haired One's face, her long pink and orange sleeve falling back from her forearm as she did so. Subtle vibrations from her Dearest-Most Follower reached past the outer flesh to the cells of thought and returned unanswered. Unease fluttered within the Red-Haired One, but she did not move away; she wished to flee, but stayed. Surprise, an initial revulsion at their touch, a little fear and curiosity rivaled within the Red-Haired One and held her in place. Disquiet flowed from her Dearest-Most Follower. She, as well, did not like the unhealthy conflicts within this strange woman's thoughts.
She released the hand and bade her Dearest-Most Follower to withdraw so this woman could retreat gracefully. Her Dearest-Most Follower, standing next to the high table she sat on, touched her to diminish the empty feeling that remained after touching the other.
Her Yearning-Most Follower, still lost in the newness of this place, hadn't noticed the exchange as he examined the lighted walls. The legends had come true for him. They had found the Others, the Others who had first known the Old Ones. And though these could not be the same individuals from the legends, they had the same feel as that from the old memories.
At the door, the Hair-Faced One smiled toward her. He was very beautiful. She had never seen a man with hair growing on his face before and she found it pleasingly exotic. And he liked her. What he did not express with his touch, he showed with his pale, blue eyes.
He had entered with a Smooth-Headed One, who wore red and black clothing like the Hair-Faced One. He had a smooth, round, shiny head with very closely trimmed gray hair on the sides and he stood straight; he had walked in before the Hair-Faced One as if he expected the taller and broader male to always be behind him.
The Red-Haired One and the Darkest-Most-Eyes One went to them and they exchanged sounds.
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A small smile curled Picard's lips.
"Getting along well with your patients, Doctor?"
Doctor Crusher smiled wryly back at him. "They're very demonstrative." Still sitting on the examination table, the taller female now held hands with the smaller woman in the caftan. The male scrutinized the readouts of the wall monitors. He didn't look like he understood any of it, but what he saw made him happy, like a gleeful child staring at the bright lights of a Christmas tree. He slowly sidestepped along the wall toward them, a nurse watching, following behind. At first, there had been a problem with him touching the instrumentation, but some tactful but firm body language had communicated that he shouldn't. Now he discreetly kept his hands behind his back while he peered at the lighted black panels.
"Have you identified them?" Picard got back to business.
"No, but we're still checking. They're definitely not any species I've ever seen before."
"Have you determined why they don't speak?"
"Yes. They don't have any vocal cords, not even vestibules. And it looks as if it's a natural condition for their species. They communicate entirely through touch and body language."
"Yes, I can see that." Picard frowned sideways at his first officer. The green-suited female seemed to be admiring Commander Riker, and he wasn't doing a thing to discourage her.
Riker shrugged and Picard checked his irritation. Riker was a bit demonstrative himself, but he'd never let it interfere with his duties. Well, almost never. But even so, unless it affected their performance, Picard firmly felt that his fellow officers' private inclinations were none of his business.
Riker started. Picard glimpsed a movement out the corner of his eye. He turned to find the male looming next to him, his fingers descending on him. He started, stepping back and bumping into Riker.
The male withdrew, his expression one of surprise and rejection.
"Um, I think it would be best if you allowed him to touch you. Physical contact seems to be very important to them." He glanced at Counselor Troi, but if she found his discomfit amusing she wasn't showing it. He knew that she knew perfectly well that he was very protective of his personal space. Riker was straining to keep a straight face, but Doctor Crusher's expression was openly curious, as if she were hoping that the alien might find something.
In true diplomatic style Picard stepped forward. After a moment the male extended his hand again. His bald scalp seemed to fascinate the male as he lightly touched its smooth curvature. Picard felt his skin tingle slightly under those questing fingers. Tight-lipped, he rigidly held his ground while the male held his hands to his cheeks and then ran his fingers down to his chin, his throat until his palms rested on his chest.
During the entire experience Picard was surprised to not feel the slightest effect to his mind at all. He'd expected to feel some kind of mental contact, but there was nothing outside of the faint physical sensation.
The male lowered his hands and smiled benignly down at him as if bestowing some sort of approval. Riker grinned, but a well aimed captain's glare took care of his display of amusement. Doctor Crusher's smile stayed where it was. Her blue eyes narrowed with the meaningful hint that she knew him far too well to be intimidated and that added to his annoyance. But her playful expression was also reassuring somehow, that she understood how he felt.
"Have you found anything out about the body you found in the ship?"
Crusher gave him a 'follow me' gesture. They left the room and their three visitors to the nurse and med-techs.
"We haven't identified the body yet either," she told them as she led them down the hall, past her office.
"Do you know what the cause of death was?" Picard asked as they stepped through a door to a small lab room. A covered body lay on a single examination table. Doctors Selar and Khutinagingi studied the readings from an array of medical scanners nearby.
"Well, on a conservative guess," she delicately pulled the edge of the shiny sheet back, "I'd say it was old age."
The remains of the being before them were wizened and gray with age. The wrinkled skin about its thin lips and eyes puckered painfully, the high, straight forehead and hairless skull cracked and ancient.
"Are you sure?"
"That's what we've gotten from the preliminary autopsy. I'd say he, it was a male, was about 350 to 400 years old and seems to have simply reached the end of his natural life span. There's no evidence of disease or injury, but there is considerable cellular deterioration that is consistent with aging in humanoids.
The intercom signalled.
"Data to Picard."
"Picard here."
"I believe I have identified the alien ship and its occupants from Starfleet records."
Picard nodded. "Very good. Relay your information to Doctor Crusher and Commander LaForge. I want a meeting with all senior staff in the observation lounge in thirty minutes."
o o o End Part 1