Part 2 (1/2)
”Ready.”
”Run read-only program 'Baldwin.' ”
Immediately the three of them were standing in the middle of an alien jungle. Chattering, squealing, and feral noises with no earthly name came from all around. Lumps of polished wood as big as houses were caught in nets of vines that hummed as the light, spicy wind blew through them. Twirling things sailed among tangles of trees with thin trunks that rose to incredible heights. Wesley could not see the sky because of the patchwork of leaves overhead.
”Hot, isn't it?” he said as he pulled his collar away from his neck with a finger. He, Dr. Crusher, and Lieutenant Shubunkin sat down on crystalline rocks that thrust from among the dead brown leaves like giants' teeth.
The only things that spoiled the perfect illusion were the standard English words floating in midair and the dramatic music. The words said, ”Omniology presents 'The Alien Universe of Eric Baldwin.' ”
Baldwin was an exologist, an expert on alien cultures and their artifacts. He was a tall wiry man with the face of a benign demon. According to the doc.u.mentary, he had escaped death many times, usually either just before or just after making an important discovery. An entire wing of the North American Museum of Extraterrestrial Biology was named after him.
As the program continued, the crystal rocks they were sitting on became toadstools, rock outcroppings, coral reefs, and finally, merely chairs. Along the way Baldwin was threatened by angry natives, kidnapped by pirates and smugglers of both the water and s.p.a.ce variety, twisted through weird dimensions by alien artifacts, and pursued by rival exologists. Each time he was threatened with death or worse, he managed to narrowly escape, using an impressive combination of creativity and physical strength. The doc.u.mentary ended, leaving Dr. Crusher, Wesley, and Shubunkin standing on the blank holodeck. Dr. Crusher said, ”A very impressive career.”
”Captain Picard says he's the single most important exologist in the Federation.”
”The captain should know,” Dr. Crusher said. ”They went to school together.”
Shubunkin said, ”Perhaps. But there are other exologists ...”
He allowed the observation to dangle, but neither Wesley nor Dr. Crusher took hold of it. Personally, Wesley suspected that Lieutenant Shubunkin was just jealous. Dr. Crusher only said, ”You may be right,” thanked him for running the doc.u.mentary, and went back to sickbay, still visibly pining for Eric Baldwin.
After the door had knitted itself shut with a pneumatic sigh, Lieutenant Shubunkin and Ensign Crusher watched it as if they thought it might open again. Shubunkin said, ”On my planet, if someone says 'You may be right,' that is what they mean. I think your mother means something else.”
”You may be right,” Wesley said, and immediately wished he hadn't. He went on quickly, ”I'd like to ask you a question.”
”Proceed.”
Wesley took a deep breath and said, ”I want to design some aliens I can practice my diplomatic skills on.” Wesley didn't want to admit his self-doubts about his command abilities. Not to Shubunkin, anyway.
Shubunkin said, ”By aliens, I a.s.sume you mean nonhumans.”
”Of course.”
Wesley could see why most of the bridge crew had difficulty getting along with Shubunkin. Even Counselor Troi, who could get along with anybody, found him a little abrasive. The guy knew his stuff, but he was too ready to show it off. Wesley took a deep breath and said, ”Yes, sir. I mean nonhumans.”
”The Enterprise computers hold a detailed description of every encounter between races since the founding of the Federation. Surely by using those descriptions, the computer can design something that will satisfy you.”
”Actually, sir, I was looking for something a little more unusual.”
Shubunkin nodded and said, ”You want more interesting aliens. Faster, less predictable aliens.”
”Right. Absolutely.”
Shubunkin stroked his chin. He said, ”The Borders scale might be of use.”
”Borders scale?”
”It's a complex scale of social, intellectual, and emotional values. Among other things, six different kinds of creativity are listed, as well as honor, courage, mercy, fierceness, ruthlessness, arrogance, and mental and physical speed. Hundreds of categories. I believe Borders even created a subsection concerning sense of humor. Her scale is a useful tool when trying to quantify similarities and differences between races.”
Wesley squinted as he considered the possibilities. He said, ”There must be more to it than just plugging in random numbers.”
”Certainly. The first value to some extent defines what the second must be. The first and second together help define the third. All creatures are consistent within their own system. The thing that makes one race seem alien to another is the difference between their systems.”
Wesley saw that creating a new alien, even using the Borders scale, would be quite a challenge. After learning all he could about the scale from the library computer, he could probably get Geordi La Forge to help with the programming.
The computer said, ”Personal memo for Wesley Crusher: Your bridge watch begins in ten minutes.”
”Acknowledged. Thanks, Lieutenant. You've been a big help.”
”I'm sure.”
As Wesley walked quickly from the room, he wondered if Shubunkin was being arrogant again or if this was another case of his saying what he meant. Wesley could not help feeling that Shubunkin was strange, even for a first-contact specialist.
As the Enterprise dropped out of warp, Picard glanced at the man in the seat on his right. He was large and round with side-whiskers rather longer than regulations allowed. His thick face shone as if he were sweating despite the controlled climate of the Enterprise. His chubby fingers never stopped moving on the arms of the chair. The form-fitting design of the Starfleet uniform did not make him look thinner, though the short cape he affected helped. Commander Riker stood behind and above him, next to Worf at the tactical rail.
Ensign Crusher came onto the bridge with a minute to spare before his watch began. Winston-Smyth gave up her chair at the conn, and Wesley sat down, immediately logging in his arrival with a few deft touches on the control panel.
Feeling much too much like a tour guide, Picard said, ”We've just dropped out of warp, Commander Mont. Mr. Data, how long till we reach Tantamon Four?”
”Fourteen minutes and twenty-two seconds, sir.”
”Let's have it on screen.”
On the main viewscreen, the forward star field wavered and an Earth-type planet appeared. From this distance, Tantamon IV seemed to be covered with gray-green moss on which some cotton wool had snagged. Picard was always amazed how many planets looked like that from s.p.a.ce, like the human home world. The Enterprise was his home, but like many humans, Picard felt a spiritual connection to the green hills of Terra that never quite went away.
”Standard orbit, Mr. Crusher.”
”Aye, sir.”
Commander Mont smiled, and his hands were still. He looked like a hungry man mesmerized by a table laden with food, Picard thought.
In his gruff voice, Mont said, ”It's a likely-looking place.”
Likely for what? Picard wondered. Mont seemed to enjoy saying things that barely made sense. Still, he was the one Starfleet had sent to debrief Baldwin after his six months on the planet below. Mont must be good at his job.
The aft turbolift doors opened, and Lieutenant Shubunkin entered the bridge. With his eyes on the screen, he stepped forward.
Picard said, ”Mr. Worf, please inform Professor Baldwin of our imminent arrival.”
”Aye, sir.”
Tantamon IV turned placidly below them for a few seconds. Worf said, ”I have Professor Baldwin.”
”On screen,” said Riker.
The picture on the viewscreen was replaced by a steamy planetary scene. Baldwin, ever the showman as well as the scientist, stood in such a way that Picard and the others on the bridge could see a silver teardrop shape lying in the humid alien jungle behind him. Next to him stood an alien. Based on what Picard had seen in preliminary reports, he a.s.sumed it was one of the Tantamon natives.