Chapter Text
The Star Beagle Adventures
Episode 16: And You And I Part I - Cord of Life
Scene 8: Coming Quickly to Terms
Coming quickly to terms of all expression laid…
16.8
Coming Quickly to Terms
“My entire reason for moving out here was to retire…”
Professor Newellewell raked his claws through the short, crimson fur on his chest, then combed his face and rubbed the base of his short, stubby horns. He stamped his feet briefly, then resumed pacing, his long, thin tail whipping restlessly. He had never given a seminar to such a large, not to mention diverse group.
It was nothing short of bizarre… The enormous John Jr., or, more accurately, the enormous head of John Jr., was represented on the large communication device that he had dropped onto Newellewell’s beach. The device, a black cube about a meter per side, now sat on top of one end of a long, low, stone table, about which a large number of chairs were arranged. The chairs were borrowed from the U.S.S. Mako’s conference room. The table and the communication block were gifts. Useful enough gifts to make up for the time and trouble needed for the retired professor to provide an orientation to this vast collection of aliens about the various intelligent species inhabiting the three habitable planets orbiting the ASA star.
Newellewell’s students included Captain Ronald Howard, XIV, Dean Sakura Nakamura Holland, Commander Rhonda Carter, Governor T’Eln, U.S. Marine Captain Osollaa sh’Zhiathis, the ferengi trader and now consultant Pel, the escaped purple secret agent Shadow, the enormous tellarite biologist Drisk javWalirsh, the trill oceanographer Akri Dexx, the denobulan planetologist Cetris Rye and the vrish diplomat Erok Gruex.
And, on screen, oddest of all, the son of the deceased Ensign John Sevork, John Jr., whose ancestry straddled three galaxies and included vulcan, human, some sort of giant space shrimp and some sort of transdimensional, spacebound mushroom.
Newellewell took his place at the opposite end of the table, which was next to his simple cooker, opened a bag and plopped a breathing, wheezing sea mole onto the end of the table. To the dismay of some at the table and intense interest of others, the gorian professor took out a large knife and slaughtered the creature and started butchering it. He held up the head, which consisted of a loose mouth surrounded by four eyes and twelve tentacles.
“Something on the order of a million years ago, a sea creature, fairy closely related to this sea mole, living in this very ocean, became intelligent and started to develop technology. They were able to use their own excretions to create protective armor for themselves and eventually, using this same technology, fashioned communications devices, the core elements for industrial technology and eventually space ships out of their own excrement. My people call them the old gods. I call them the tinkers.”
The small, horned professor began roasting the slaughtered pieces of the sea mole.
“The tinkers became very interested in genetic manipulation. They had taken my ancestors, forest dwelling creatures even smaller than this sea mole, and adopted them as pets. And they experimented, increasing the intelligence of their pets. These primitive gorians were far from their only pets. On these three worlds, there are at least 19 different species that could have an intelligent conversation with you. And my people are far from the smartest among them.”
“Not all of them could sit around this table with you. Some of them are plants. Aquatic plants.” The professor took his seat at the head of the table and started to eat the sea mole. “Some of them would rather eat you than talk to you,” he said around a mouthful of roasted sea mole.
“The braptors of Brail, the planet you refer to as ASA 2, are among those. Their ancestors used to fly. The tinkers made them larger and much, much smarter. There was a population of them in the southern reaches on this planet. We eventually wiped them out. Not before they had eaten several thousand of us. They were a lot smarter than us. We only survived because we vastly outnumbered them and could survive in a much wider range of environments.”
“And some of them, the moment they encounter you, would probably flatten themselves to the ground and worship you. My people are like that. Not me, mind you. But my people see gods everywhere. A few thousand of them willingly sacrificed themselves to be eaten alive by the braptors under the assumption that they were gods. And nearly all of my people think that our intelligence, rudimentary as it is, is a gift from the old gods.” Newellewell sneered.
The ruddy professor finished his meal, sat back in his chair, stared up into the evening sky and fell silent. His eclectic collection of students were treated to the sounds of the waves lapping on the beach nearby. Then to a long, loud, and rather heady belch. Professor Newellewell leaned his head back and gurgled, almost as if he were juggling his dinner in his throat, then sighed heavily. His eyes closed sleepily.
“So the intelligence of your people was not a gift?” prodded Captain Skip Howard.
“Hmmmm?” Newellewell seemed more than mildly confused. He sat up, shook his head slowly and grunted unhappily.
“No. No, the tinkers weren’t handing out intelligence to all these species out of kindness. Nor was it some sort of ennui or general curiosity. They weren’t being deliberately cruel, nor were they acting out of whimsey. They had a PURPOSE!” Newellewell shouted this last word and it became obvious that his opinion was part of some long-running argument he had been pursuing for many long years.
“They experimented on us for thousands of years, and then used what they learned on themselves. They are gods because they fashioned themselves into gods.” He pointed a short, stubby, red-furred, clawed finger at the ancient vulcan who had become the colonial governor. “So you want to colonize this planet. Fine with me! But you need to understand the risk.”
He got up, then stood in his chair, then clambered onto the table and walked over to look down on the emotionless vulcan, his claw almost touching her forehead. His voice dropped and became very quiet. “The old gods are still here. And by establishing your colony here, you have volunteered yourselves and your descendants to be their next experimental subjects.”
16.8