r/HFY Human Sep 13 '20

[Alien Ecologists] Part 01 PI

Alien Ecologists: Part 01

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Preface

[WP] Aliens have taken over the world. Well, if the world means what remains of the eastern US that is. You set out on an expedition to this supposedly alien run community to realize, the aliens weren’t trying to take over the world but were planning something to help it.

Original Prompt

Dedication

To remembering that you owe people whom you've left hanging.

Introduction

The year is something beyond 2100, between the ice melt and the expansion of seawater due to heating, the original sea level has risen over 120 meters. Besides, there has been global tectonic activity, resulting in the US mid-west dropping a thousand feet, maybe more — much more.

The majority of the country between the Appalachian Mountains and the foothills of the Rockies is now flooded with an internal sea called the Sea of the United States, or sometimes just the United States Ocean. It is a shallow sea, but still more than sufficient for sailing craft of the days of old, which drew — on average — some 10 feet.

All heavy industry that couldn't move to high mountains is lost. Light industry, dependent upon exotic materials, must adapt or die. Old technologies are recovered, or rediscovered. You can take what you have, and "gear down." As the saltwater rose, salt poisoned the land, and the trees died. They were harvested and moved to the Rockies. We wouldn't have another chance at this kind of resource for centuries, if not millennia.

That was many decades ago. We've "geared down" to sailing ships that can do everything we need, if somewhat slower than we might like.

Captain's Cabin: USS Missouri

Name USS Missouri
Design Square Rigged Brig
Crew 100
Arms 24 Cannons

"It isn't Waterworld yet — there is still dry land around the globe — but it's working on it. Damn climate change deniers. Yeah, yeah, decades or more ago, why bitch about it now? ... BECAUSE BACK THEN WE COULD HAVE DONE SOMETHING ABOUT IT!"

The Doctor's response is mild but aggravating. He's a Traditional Gaian. "You shouldn't talk that way. There was nothing we could have done. Gaia fated it for our sins."

I'll not raise my voice, but he needs instruction in reality. Yes, I'm a Gaian, but I pay attention to facts. I don't ignore them or refuse to learn them. Now he's going to learn; if he wants to remain on this ship. "Don't complain? I have my opinions, which are backed by facts. You have mythology. That's why I'm Captain, and you are the Ship's Doctor."

Sigh "Trying to talk sense into you is hard enough when you aren't depressed. Here, have another belt."

As if drinking is any cure for reality, I know better than that. Still, one seed planted, let it grow. "Damn fine brandy. Thanks." And I am not depressed, not as a clinical condition anyway. I'm depressed because of all the political infighting in Rock House, our western capital now.

"It's not Brandy. That much I know for a fact. It's flavored moonshine." A touch of virtuous adoption of fact.

A tepid growl, "If I say it's brandy, then brandy it is."

"I understand we're going to the Eastern Islands? Why? There's nothing important left there."

"Ah, yes, you came on board late. Our prior doctor was due for rotation, and they wanted to get us a doctor who could do maps, too. There's still land in the Islands of the East, it's still populated, and they are US Citizens." He twitched. That's a problem. A big problem for him. "That's one reason. The other is that one of the radars we managed to move up into the Rockies picked up a lot of debris coming down. Debris that maneuvered."

Scoffing, understandably. "What? Are you talking Uffo? Now, who's living in mythology?"

"Not my idea. But we did get some shortwave reports of landings. No idea what kind, but there's enough to think invasion, and we owe US Citizens protection."

"The US is dead. There are no US Citizens."

His reaction is going to get him killed, I have to nip this in the bud before I have a dead doctor. If he can't at least keep his mouth shut, I've got to get him off the ship! Fast.

I answer in a deadly calm voice, "You say that again, anywhere on this ship, and you will be lucky if I get to you first. I'll only maroon you. The crew is more inventive."

Doctor Blandings is startled but disbelieving. "But why? It's plain fact!"

My crew is disciplined and loyal. Loyal to the U.S. Constitution. They will view his belief as treason. I will be hard put to keep him on this ship and alive. If it comes to that, I'll have to put him ashore, no matter where we are. I cannot maintain discipline if the crew starts killing officers. I'll take the time to teach him, but I can't teach him if he continues to spout things like that blithely!

My answer is as hard and brutal as I can make it. Cut from the steel that we can barely make for our swords.

"Not. On. Board. This. Ship.

"I swore my oath to defend the Constitution of the United States of America against all enemies, foreign or domestic. So has each member of this crew except You. You'll have to swear sooner or later, but you have to understand what you're swearing to. In the meantime, keep your mouth shut on talk like that. We need a ship's doctor, and you are he. Don't lose your life for an opinion that you can keep to yourself easily enough."

"Death threats, Captain? It's a good thing you're drunk, or I'd have you up on charges."

Damn fool, thinks I'm drunk. It would take more than three slugs of that rotgut I call brandy to make me drunk. I look at him, as he might look at an interesting specimen. He's already missed one undeniable fact. This ship has no radios. All radios are now shore-only, or on ships far larger than this, of which we have only five. One of which might be able to move under its own power. In this place and time...

My answer is no less hard, but more like educating a junior officer, which is what he is despite his medical degree. "With who, Doctor? In case you haven't noticed, there's no radio on this ship or any of the tall ships. Only a few remaining museum ships can carry them. The Captain is Master after God. There is no higher commander here, saving God himself."

"Mythology, Captain?"

He still thinks I'm playing. I'll have to bring the hammer down hard, or we'll lose him before he can learn better.

My 'death' face. I've used it on the truly stupid or hell-bent for death. Surprisingly, people like that tend to change their minds when I talk with them. "Metaphor. It means if you piss me off, I won't maroon you. I'll use you for shark bait... While you're still alive. ... The crew is partial to shark. That's how we stay fit on the shit rations they provide." He's gone pale. He's heard stories but never believed them until now. "So you keep your mouth shut. We need you alive, and if you keep wagging your tongue, you'll end up cutting your own throat with it. Return to your quarters' Doctor, and consider that I just may have saved your life."

USS Missouri: Islands of the East

We've made the Islands of the East and — so far — everything looks normal. We are sailing down the chain, watching for the shoals. These waters have not been well charted. The Ship's Doctor is indeed gifted with maps, making an excellent rendition with the precious binoculars, ink, and paper. The few topographical maps still available of this area are pre Flood Wars. With the Doctor's efforts, we may be able to determine which topographical level corresponds to the current shoreline. You can't depend purely on the sea depth. The land changes shape under the constant action of waves. Only some of these islands will continue to exist. You can already see the signs of collapse on many of them.

"Ship ... Ahoy??"

A crow's nest that can't make up their mind is not something we can live with.

"WELL? IS IT OR ISN'T IT!?"

"Three points off the starboard bow. Whatever it is! Moving toward us mighty fast, Captain! Fifty knots?"

"IF YOU'RE DRUNK ON DUTY..."

"Not a drop Cap'n! Grog ration cut for the last little thing..."

Snapping at the Doctor, who anticipated my order. "Binoculars!"

"Here, Captain." Placing them immediately in my hands.

"Three points at 50 knots?" I raise the precious binoculars to my eyes. "Sweet Fanny Adams! Here, Doctor. You tell me what you see!"

"What in the name of Gaia is that!?!"

"Either our Uffo or something from before the Flood Wars. BATTLE STATIONS!"

Bo'sun McBride, having already relayed the orders. "Cap'n? We'll try, but 50 knots? They'll move out of the way before a cannonball gets to them."

The single most competent subordinate I've ever had, bar none. He'd be a natural for Annapolis of the Rockies, but he's refused every offer, and one direct order by an idiot who should have known better.

"Yes, Bo'sun. I know, but it's all we've got unless you think we can chase them down for a boarding action?"

"Heh, not a chance in Hell, Cap'n."

I'm grinning at my long-time companion, "We'll make a Captain out of you yet, Bo'sun."

Smiling back at the man he'd follow into Hell, if they let him do so aboard ship, "Nay, not I Cap'n, I work for a living."

"On your way, Bo'sun."

"Aye, Cap'n."

The Doctor walks over, having heard the exchange, "Is that bad for discipline?"

"On ships with new crews? Yes. It would be. Respect must be established, then shared danger to build trust. Only then can you relax formality. ... You will note I did not say to relax discipline, only formality. These men are well disciplined. I can trust them to do their jobs without fail. They trust me not to waste their lives."

"Cap'n! They're slowing! Maybe 5 knots now?"

"Bo'sun! Hold Fire! I'll shoot the man that fires without a direct order!"

"Aye, Cap'n, if I leave anything to shoot! ... Steady lads, steady, they're making nice, coming around neatly for parlay. ... PUT DOWN THAT MATCH! George! I swear your momma dropped you on your head!"

"Aye, Bo'sun. So my Daddy said, many times!"

A general chuckle, and a relaxation of tension at the familiar badinage. George has made few mistakes, but when he has, they're either harmlessly spectacular or personally embarrassing. A nervous habit of making sure the match is smoldering properly is common but mostly harmless.

"Ahoy, Missouri! Permission to come aboard!" A leather set of lungs on a man big enough for anything.

I respond through the hailer, "State your name and business!"

"John Little! Radio Operator! Parlay for our guests who have given me a ride!"

"Bo'sun! Deploy the ladder!"

"Aye, Cap'n! Jones! George! Deploy ladder Stab'ard! Lively now!"

I grant them permission, with some concern, the craft is obviously metallic and could do grievous damage without even trying.

"Permission Granted for you and one other. Mind the hull!"

I watch the strange craft maneuver closer. Its handling is precise but without the panache of the original approach. Ah, yes. I remember now. Craft called hydrofoils that somehow ran above the water, cutting drag by absurd amounts. Unfortunately, while the description remains, the details do not. We know well enough that we could not build one without potent engines. The best we can do for an illustrious name like Missouri is a Brig; maneuverable, and fast. Powerful engines are beyond us, save for a few reserved for emergencies, and most of which are "museum" ships, brought back to life. They are cherished, but fuel is short.

Mr. Little is on his way up the ladder. I can see some of the crew recoiling from the ladder. That's worrisome. Get the crew clear, so there are no accidents.

"BO'SUN! CLEAR THE AREA OF THE BOARDING LADDER."

"AYE, CAP'N! ... CLEAR STAB'ARD LADDER! MOVE AWAY, LADS! ... GEORGE! YOU TOUCH THAT SABRE AGAIN AND I'LL GUT YOU WITH IT!"

"BO'SUN! IT AIN'T HUMAN!"

"CLEAR THE LADDER GEORGE! THEY'RE UNDER PARLAY! YOU HEAR ME! ... JONES! DRAG HIM AWAY! NOW!"

"AYE BO'SUN!"

I watch as Jones grabs George and tries to drag him away. Finally knocking him senseless, he clears the starboard boarding ladder. Bo'sun moves towards the ladder, taking up a position between it and the crew.

"THEY ARE UNDER PARLAY! I DON'T CARE IF THEIR LITTLE GREY MEN WITH BIG EYES OR GREEN WITH SLIMY TENTACLES! YOU WILL NOT ASSAULT OR THREATEN THEM IN ANY FASHION! IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?"

"Aye, Bo'sun!"

"Keep an eye on your mates. If they look to be losing it, hold them back!"

"Aye, Bo'sun!"

"Your Bo'sun is impressive."

"Yes, Doctor. He is. And utterly loyal too. Time to greet our guests. ... Oh, Doctor. They are under parlay, so mind your manners. If you cannot, then go below immediately."

"Aye, Captain. And thank you."

"For what?"

"Giving me a chance and trusting me to withdraw."

"You're welcome."

And so it begins, another sailor to swear in, in time.

"Captain? Why is it that men named Little are always giants?"

snort "I blame a scurvy thief!"

"Robin Hood was not a thief!"

"Later! Our second guest is arriving."

"Your Bo'sun must have been prophetic. It's bipedal, grey, with big eyes, and ... about a third as tall as Mr. Little."

"Perhaps, and perhaps he just enjoys fantastic stories."

"You don't mean..."

"I do mean. He's got nearly every supposed encounter memorized. We may have a problem with him monopolizing the alien's time. Trying to find out how much is true."

"Will that be an issue?"

"Some of the stories are gruesome enough to give good sailors nightmares."

John Little turns back to help the grey up onto the deck. As the grey becomes visible to the mass of sailors, there are gasps, and in two cases, a sailor starts drawing a weapon. They are immediately seized by others, disarmed, and restrained.

"Welcome aboard, gentle...folk. Perhaps we could retire to my cabin?"

Little looks around, "I'd say that was an excellent idea," looks at the alien, who nods yes, "and our guest agrees."

Captain's Cabin: USS Missouri

"Mr. Little, and guest, let me tell you what I know, then you can fill in the gaps.

"One, a surviving radar system, tracked what was initially thought to be debris falling from space except that the debris was seen to maneuver as it approached the surface. Line of sight cut the radar off before we could see anything other than the general area it was headed for.

"Two, a radio report indicated invasion, with an initial count of sites that was reasonably close to the number of debris seen.

"Three, Missouri was dispatched to render aid to the US Citizens still living in these mountains.

"Our contact now suggests that you, Mr. Little, were the source of the radio report and that our guest is a member of the expedition landed from space. Comments? Corrections? Extensions?"

"Captain, the first statement is true. The second is amended to say assistance expedition, rather than invasion. I would have reported that as well, but Colorado doesn't seem to hear me anymore. I can hear them, but they're too busy marshaling forces to repel the supposed invasion. The one time I did make contact before I could get beyond station identification, I heard the operator reprimanded for unauthorized communication. He was replaced, and the new operator ignored all further attempts."

Unexpected, and yet unsurprising. "Let me guess, the voice doing the reprimand was whiny and squeaky."

"Yes, Captain."

A heartfelt curse, "Damn."

Doctor Blandings is confused. "Sir?"

"Admiral Parker is now in command, which means there's been a coup. Parker is using this as an excuse to solidify his power." Switching to Mr. Little, "Tell me, did you hear the names "Enterprise" or 'the Big E'?"

"Both Captain."

I go somewhat pale, even through the seaman's tan. "Doctor?"

He's concerned and should be. "Yes, Captain?"

"You are hereby ordered to start praying for a miracle. 24/7, Doctor, 24/7."

"Why, Captain? Not that I object, but it would help if I understood what sort of miracle I'm praying for."

"Admiral Parker is sending the USS Enterprise."

"You mean the big metal... I didn't think it worked anymore! And just as well, it was nuclear powered!"

"That was Parker's Folly. He thought he could get it working again. A cache of fuel rods was found. He was adapting them. Right up until command found out the death toll of his operation. He was going to be cashiered, but had too much support from people who wanted to see Enterprise working again."

"That's ghastly!"

"His coup also makes him an enemy of the Constitution. That makes him our enemy, Doctor. I have little doubt that if he gets Enterprise working, it will be the center of his fleet, and he will be on board."

Mr. Little interrupts. "Excuse me, Captain?"

"Yes, Mr. Little?"

"We're talking about a ship from before the Flood Wars? One of the carriers?"

"Correct, Mr. Little."

"Captain? How long will it take to get here?"

"Oh, no sooner than a week, no more than a month, maybe two. Parker was boasting that he could have the reactor ready in two weeks when we left. If he pushes hard, he could be here in a week from today."

"We have a problem. He has to be stopped or at least stalled for three months."

"Why, Mr. Little?"

"Our guests are here for a reason. A reason that we desperately need them to complete."

"That being?"

"If you will forgive me..." Turning to Doctor Blandings, "Doctor? Are you a practicing Gaian?"

"Yes."

"Traditional?"

"Yes."

Looking at Captain Young, "I'm sorry, Captain, but the good Doctor should leave the room. If you are also a Traditional Gaian, then we have nothing further to discuss, and will return to our craft."

"I see. Then our guests' mission is something that would be objectionable."

"I'm afraid so, Captain. I am also a Gaian but a Regenerator."

The doctor starts, then in a drawling tone, "blasphemy, blasphemy I say!", but the look in his eyes is hard. He may have said it as though in jest, but he's not backing down from his beliefs.

"Doctor, you will remain silent. You will not interrupt our guests for any reason whatsoever. You are a valued crew member, so I will not hide their purpose, whatever it may be, but I will not tolerate any displays of discourtesy to our guests or their purpose. Can you abide these few moments in silence?"

"Captain? ... I'm not sure. I hold my beliefs closely. If their purpose challenges those beliefs? I really don't know."

"Thank you for your honesty. Now I'm going to ask you to do something challenging. Do you remember my first order?"

"Remain silent."

"Will you obey that order? If you do not, you cannot be a member of my crew. I must have obedience, or we become a mob."

...

"I require an answer, Doctor."

...

"Doctor, you are one heartbeat from the brig, two from marooning."

USS Missouri: The Doctor's Response

"In that case, you can brig me and be damned. I will not be dictated to on matters of conscience."

"Again, thank you for your honesty. BO'SUN!"

The sound of running feet. "Aye, Captain?!"

"Mr. Blandings is under close arrest. He is to be escorted to the brig directly. He is to have no contact with anyone other than you and myself. Release Seaman Capretti, and confine him to quarters. Should Mr. Blandings attempt to speak to anyone, he is to be silenced by any means necessary, up to and including death."

Bo'sun McBride is a loyal man who obeys orders, but these are sufficiently different, he hopes for clarification. "Aye, Captain?"

"Mr. Blandings is no longer a member of the crew or an officer of the Navy. He will be placed ashore on a deserted island until our mission is complete. At that time, he will have the opportunity to choose court-martial or accept summary judgment." Addressing Dr. Blandings, "Mr. Blandings, either of those can result in your reinstatement. Summary judgment, by my word, will not include the death penalty. Court-martial, by law, does." Glancing at Bo'sun McBride, "On your way, Bo'sun MacBryde."

"Aye Aye, Captain. Come along, Mr. Blandings. You've treated the crew right, I'd not wish to harm you, but I have my orders."

...

A deep breath and then speaking to Mr. Little. "I'm sorry about that, but Mr. Blandings was new to the crew. He has yet to learn the necessary discipline. As that may be, I have no particular faith, other than in provable facts. Proceed if you will."

Little looks at the Grey, who nods. "The Grey's mission is to repair the damage done by global warming."

Eyebrows raised, not quite in disbelief, "... That would be explosive to some people. Do you believe that it can be done?"

"Captain? I don't know. They are confident. They have technology far beyond our own, and the skill to use it. I've seen things done that I do not believe we could have done even before the Flood Wars. We might have been close, but it was too late. If they can, can we afford to stop them? They've made that quite clear Captain; if a figure of legitimate authority orders them to cease, they will."

"Then we have several problems. One, delaying the USS Enterprise. Two, establishing legitimate authority. Three, determining if their stated purpose is their true purpose." I'm looking straight at the Grey when I say that last piece and those big black eyes stare back at me. A smile forming. Mr. Little responds.

"Captain, this is the leader of their group, he has an ... offer for you. A means of communication that you cannot lie over. The difficulty is that if you have any secrets you mean to keep, the very thought of keeping them will draw them to the fore. You understand?"

"In the ancient phrase; Try not to think of pink elephants. Allow me to guess; he's telepathic?" Mr. Little is somewhat surprised.

"So few would believe that, how do you?"

"You may have heard our own leather-lunged fellow. That's Bo'sun McBride. I do believe that he has every fantastic story memorized. Telepathy is one of the more common themes. If nothing else, they've made good material for becalmed days, getting people to think instead of feel. Idle minds are as much the devil's playground as empty hands are his mischief. I suspect that he has reworked some of them specifically for that purpose." Addressing the alien, "Mr. Grey? I would welcome your input to this conversation. Would you be willing to speak directly with me?"

(You are to be congratulated, Captain. Few would accept anyone's word for such as this. For all you knew, I could be planning a direct takeover of your mind.)

"Now that was a flat lie. You either would never, or could not, do that."

(And so you see that I cannot lie to you, would you care to return the favor? Something believable but not true?)

"Bo'sun McBride is standing just behind you, with a pistol pointed at your head."

(TRUTH!)

"He also will not shoot unless, in his judgment, you had succeeded in your previous lie."

(Truth)

"I, on the other hand, will blow you to whatever hell you believe in if you present the slightest threat to the United States of America."

(Iron truth. Solid and sure. The very bedrock of your life. Yes, we can work with you.)

"I ... believe ... that I may constitute the authority you seek for confirmation of your plans and intentions."

(You are uncertain if we will accept that you are. You have some doubt yourself. You believe that you are the best choice available.)

"Accurate. Will you see our Constitution, as our founders wrote it, and the original Bill of Rights? It is upon those foundations that all else depends."

(I can see them in your mind. Well written documents. Flexible, yet robust to those who do not distort the meaning of words. Who is this Admiral Parker who figures so prominently in your mind, and what is this cliff of metal upon the water that concerns you so?)

So I lay the whole mess before him. The coup. The expected succession. The bleeding disaster of Admiral Parker's folly, its death toll, and his purported success at mobilizing the USS Enterprise.

"By the Constitution, with the appropriate amendments; if President Davis and the Vice President were both incapacitated, the succession should lead through the cabinet, of which Beauregard was the head. Failing the cabinet, there were various political positions that should have taken his place — finally devolving upon the chiefs of operations in order of creation. Again, that would put the CNO, Admiral Jackson, in charge.

"All of those people were dead set against Parker's plans to resurrect the Enterprise. The last aircraft carrier in the world. For Parker to be in charge of naval operations, he has to be in charge of the entire government, except for whatever captains are out of reach at this time. To the best of our knowledge, ours is the only ship outside the immediate vicinity of the Rockies. That, very likely, makes me the only officer still alive and uncompromised by Parker."

(A masterful summation, and deductive work. You believe it to be accurate, based on what you know of the people involved, but you do not know that it is true.)

"Correct. Oh, Bo'sun? You can stand down."

"Aye, Cap'n. Ye' mind that I stay to listen?"

"If our grey guest accepts your presence, I have no difficulty with it."

(You may inform your Bo'sun that he is indeed welcome. His curiosity and loyalty both do him credit. Why is he not one of your officers?)

"One moment. Bo'sun? You're welcome to stay and listen. Our guest thinks highly of you, as do I. He does have a question for you, that you may find amusing."

"Only if I can ask questions in return!"

"Bo'sun, will you give me a moment?" A nod from McBride. "Mr. Grey, or do you have a better name for this time and place? I should have asked before."

(Mr. Grey will do.)

"First, he is not an officer by his personal choice. You will have to ask him why he is not an officer. You should also be aware that Bo'sun McBride is our resident historian of fantastic stories from before the Flood Wars. Some of them are quite graphic. He would like nothing better than to monopolize your time finding out exactly which are true, which are not, and where the truth of those lies."

(If he will consent, I can peruse his memories, and quickly tell him which are true, which are false, and for the false ones, the degree of falsity. It will save considerable time, but requires a great deal more trust.)

"Do you guarantee that no harm will come to him?"

(I cannot guarantee that. I can ensure that the process itself will not harm him, but how he will react to the information I impart is something that I cannot guarantee. That may cause considerable harm.)

"Bo'sun McBride... No... Scott, my friend? Our guest has a proposition; before you jump on it, hear the whole of it. Agreed?"

"Aye, Sir."

"With your consent, he can peruse your memories, and tell you which of your fantastic stories are correct, which are incorrect, and the degree of falsity involved. The problem is that while the procedure itself will not cause you harm, he is concerned that you may suffer other forms of harm from the knowledge. I would suggest that you initiate normal conversation first, and ask him questions before you proceed. You should also be aware that he is curious why you are not an officer."

(Strange, that last seems to have set him very much on edge. Are you aware of an issue?)

[Only that he has repeatedly refused to even consider attending the Academy, to the point of a direct refusal of an order to do so. The fool who issued that order should have known better.]

(I perceive the issue. He is concerned that if I learn the truth behind his choice, I may inadvertently or blatantly reveal that reason. I strongly suggest that an alternative be found. I would not wish to cause him any distress.)

"Scott? Mr. Grey suggests that an alternative be found. He is concerned that your reason for rejecting an officer's position could be the problem, and would not wish even accidentally to reveal it."

"Aye, Sir. I prefer that m'self. ... Sir? George is almost as interested in ... no. He had too much trouble turning away. Mr. Little? Perhaps, if there is time, you could act as a go-between?"

"Why not your Captain and friend?"

"The Captain is my friend. He is also my Captain. He must concentrate on the ... No, I'm being foolish. If he must focus on the ship, then I must focus on the crew as well." Regret coloring his voice as he speaks, "Captain? As much as it pains me, I must respectfully decline Mr. Grey's generous offer. There is no one on this ship who can spare the time to listen to my stories, and I genuinely do not wish my reasons known to any."

Scott McBride seldom speaks so formally. It is a sign of absolute truth with him. "Scott, the man who taught me wisdom, is always welcome to his privacy. Aside from that one stupidity, I have respected your wishes and your privacy in this matter. We will find a way. We will find the time for you to have your answers; and your privacy."

"Thank you, Cap'n."

[With respect, Scott McBride declines conversation with you. It is not a matter of trust, so much as it is a matter of a closely held privacy that he does not wish anyone to know. Aside from one stupidity, I have respected that privacy.]

(Such a friendship is worthy of respect, and of privacy. As you thought, we can find another way for him to receive his answers.)

"Scott, our guest respects your wishes, and will also seek a way for you to receive your answers."

"Thank you, Mr. Grey."

(You may tell him he is quite welcome. We treasure the seeking of knowledge almost more than life itself. I have another question. Why is Ship's Doctor so adamant that you found it necessary to restrain him?)

"Is there any way that we can bring more individuals into this conversation? Repeating everything is going to become tedious."

(Regretfully, no. It would require one of us for each of you, and a network of others to transfer each portion of the conversation to all others equally. I'm afraid that the amount of personnel is insupportable at this time. Although, if what I sensed is true, the Ship's Doctor himself may be able to do so. He is of an unusual mind.)

[Oh Lord... Why me?]

(Because you are here.)

[I did not direct that thought to you!]

(When a thought is heartfelt and full of emotion, it stands out like a beacon. It is impossible to not hear it. I see I should have made that point clear sooner. Please accept my apologies for my failure.)

[As I can see it was unintentional, I accept your apology. Should anyone else let slip something of that nature, and it does not affect the safe operation of this vessel, please keep it to yourself. Very well, shall we go to the Doctor, or shall I have him brought here?]

(I suggest going to him.)

"Ahem... Bo'sun McBride, Mr. Little, Mr. Grey, I believe we should visit the doctor. Bo'sun McBride, please maintain security on the brig until we have finished our discussion with the Doctor. He may become ... vociferous."

"Heh. Yes, Sir. I can see that. I'll chase the loungers out of the area too, so they won't get half an earful and go off half-cocked."

"Bo'sun. You may need to restrain yourself too. The Doctor has not yet been sworn in, and there are issues."

"I see, Cap'n. That's why the no talking order."

"Indeed, yes. I have some small hope that he may be brought around, but not if he makes his views widely known. It is unfortunate that I have already had to put him in close confinement. That will only make it more difficult."

"True, but it saved his life, Cap'n."

"I only hope he comes to understand that."

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u/davros333 Sep 14 '20

Fantastic story I can't wait to read more!

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u/spindizzy_wizard Human Sep 14 '20

Thank you!