The Investor
Summary: On the new Trebus colony, someone finds himself in over his head. Very loosely conceived as a continuation of the story begun in Observations.
The Federation provided precious little information on life in the Trebus colony before depositing me like so much cargo at the beginning of my brief due diligence visit. I knew nothing about the local language or form of government. Even the name of my local contact was incomplete, just one word: Chakotay. No title, no first name, so that I'd be wrong-footed from the moment I met the … man? I was assuming a human, because the colonists were mostly human, but beyond that I had few clues.
Time was very short. The Tevelon investment syndicate needed the colony's new mini-warp technology to construct our planned deep space communications network on time and on budget. I was to evaluate the quality of the technology and the colony's ability to produce the needed units on our schedule. I could only hope that the colonists would cooperate. In this backwater on the edge of the quadrant, I was hopeful that they'd be glad for a little attention from a potential major investor, with the accompanying promise of logistical support for their development projects.
One could never be sure. There had been, for example, the Nivalese, who'd chased me back to the landing site with pitchforks at the sight of the hovercraft's corporate logo, which they associated with past ill-advised forays into DNA harvesting. My assignments in this vein had been uncomfortable, to say the least. The universal translator is a fickle technology, sometimes providing for excellent communications, other times entirely missing the meaning of fundamental cultural concepts, leaving me scrambling to compensate for mortifying misunderstandings and faux pas, many of which I couldn't blame entirely on the technology.
Because I was still a relatively junior executive at the time, the societies I was sent to contact that season were exceedingly primitive by Federation standards, generally only open to research and investment because of their historical connections to the Federation and access to Federation technology. Trebus seemed to be an exception in its ability to produce advanced technologies even by Federation standards, but that didn't mean that the living conditions would be civilized. I'd learned to travel like early Earth explorers Lewis and Clark, with everything I might need on my back. The food invariably disturbed my stomach and the lodgings were consistently subpar, but such is the life of a corporate due diligence officer in the far reaches of the Alpha quadrant.
The landing site featured a large, locked storage shed and a single trail into the jungle. Nobody was there to meet me, which was hardly unusual. I strapped on my heavy pack and launched myself down the trail.
I walked for most of an hour before reaching any sign of human habitation. Finally there were a few empty huts – no better word for them – whose occupants I guessed to be out in the abundant fields beyond. At last I came to a hut with a few half-full glasses of water on a table outside, and children's toys scattered near the path. These shelters did not appear to be constructed from Starfleet materials or according to any modern architectural principles. This was typical. The primitives always thought they could improve on centuries of Federation expertise. Their "indigenous architecture" usually dissolved in the first hard rain, but this structure looked relatively stable. There was no door to knock on, only a colorful weaving hanging over the door aperture, and nobody around, so I began to call, "Hello! Anybody home?"
After a few minutes, a heavily pregnant woman in a large sombrero, clearly one of the colonists, walked around from the extensive garden plots visible behind the hut, carrying a basket of freshly harvested greens balanced on one hip. A small girl toddled beside her, holding her mother's finger, and what appeared to be a long-haired boy, slightly larger, followed behind, carrying another basket of fresh produce. This too was typical. The more primitive colonies were in such a hurry to populate that they failed to observe the most basic family planning. Nonetheless, gentleman that I am, I dropped my pack and rushed to relieve her of her burden.
"Just carry it inside," she told me, in unaccented Standard, which in turn relieved me. This research would be easier if my interviews weren't mediated by that damned universal translator. When I'd set down the basket in the tidy kitchen space, I turned to introduce myself.
"I'm Dr. Peter Fellows," I said, putting a hand to my chest in the proper traditional Trebusian greeting for a man to a woman. At least I had that much information. "I'm the Tevelon representative. I'm here to evaluate the feasibility of investment in the colony's new warp technology with the assistance of a … the name I have looks like Cha-ko-tay. Is that correct?"
The woman nodded as she kicked off her sandals at the door – there it was, my first misstep already, failing to remove my shoes – and moved to rinse her hands with a pitcher and basin on the kitchen counter. She seemed accustomed to living without indoor plumbing – probably had never had it and didn't miss it. Her face seemed mature. Back on Earth, I would guess her to be in her mid-forties, but here, of course, she was probably much younger and simply displaying the aging to be expected of a hard life of manual labor and constant child-bearing. I wondered in passing if she was even literate, but that sort of research was beyond the scope of my assignment. It didn't matter how educated the average member of the colony was, as long as their scientists could do the job. Right now, I needed to determine whether or not this outpost would even survive, and what sort of assistance was likely to be required to complete our project.
"I suppose so," she said. "I hadn't heard about it, but he's always taking on this sort of thing. He'll be here a little later. You must have had a long voyage. Please, tell me about it. And would you like something to drink? To eat?" As she spoke, the boy, perhaps three or four years old, ran in barefoot to ask for a glass of water in another language that the translator handled easily. A known tongue, then. Probably the native language of Trebus. At first I couldn't be sure from the child's clothing – a long smock that could be mistaken for a dress – and its long hair if it was a boy or a girl, but then he turned and his tanned features were clearly masculine.
"Eday, this is a guest of the colony, Dr. Fellows. He's here to do research. Say hello," the woman told the boy, who ran up and hugged my leg before chugging his water and racing back outside. It was becoming awkward that I hadn't obtained her name, but somehow she wasn't giving me the chance to ask. Before I knew what was happening, I was at a table under a small shelter outside the hut, with a cup of tea and a plate of warm corn tortillas before me, and my hostess was standing at a workbench under the wide eaves of the hut. She had to stretch around her belly to get at the small engine on the bench, but she seemed to handle her tools competently.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. …" I tried, but she only glanced at me with a charming, crooked smile. "I need to find Mr. Chakotay and figure out where I'll be living and working. Could you point me in the right direction?"
"Your first lesson will be patience, young man," she said, reaching for a few more tools farther down the bench. "I asked you about your voyage," she repeated the inquiry in an encouraging tone. I had no desire to insult the woman who had offered such generous hospitality to a stranger, but I needed to reach the colony's leaders to explain my research objectives and what I would require of them. Idling away the day with children and a woman who appeared to be a farmer's wife was not advancing the tight schedule I needed to keep.
With a sigh, I picked up a tortilla and began to describe the journey from Earth. The boy interrupted with enthusiastic questions – he was clearly older than my first estimate. The woman had to leave her tinkering to chase the little girl from time to time, so my conversation was more with the boy than with her. Just as I was getting ready to excuse myself and seek out an adult to talk to, footsteps announced a large person coming up the path, followed shortly by a tall man with an elaborate tattoo on the left side of his forehead.
"Well hello!" he said, offering his hand. "I saw that we had an arrival earlier, but I was tied up with our water purification project. Sorry to make you wait. You must be from Tevelon. I'm Chakotay, I was in contact with your scientists."
"Oh yes!" I said, jumping up to take the offered hand. "Dr. Peter Fellows. I've been waiting with, um" – I realized that I still had no name for the farmer's wife.
"With my family," he said, looking around him with a beaming smile. The woman approached and stood on tiptoe to kiss him before disappearing back into the hut. "I'm sure they made you welcome."
"Your family?" I repeated. I had expected the head man of such a technologically advanced colony to live in more modern conditions. Suddenly, my hopes for the success of the mini-warp technology plummeted.
"Come on, I'll show you around," he said. He lifted the little girl onto his shoulders and waved to the boy to follow us as he took off back down the trail. I had little choice but to shoulder my pack and follow. When I glanced back over my shoulder, Chakotay's wife was standing at the edge of the small fenced enclosure around the hut, one hand on her heavy belly, waving goodbye. I wondered for a moment what she thought of all the new advances to her humble, traditional society – perhaps she was the traditionalist who insisted on this lifestyle? – but I was too pressed to keep up with Chakotay's pace to wonder for long.
After a long lecture on the colony's agricultural and educational advances, conducted while we marched at a punishing speed over rolling terrain, Chakotay stopped at another humble hut where the similarly primitive inhabitants offered us tea. I sat down in gratitude, but I was frustrated that we still had not arrived at the technology facility.
"So, what do you think of our little endeavor?" Chakotay asked me.
"Very impressive," I answered out of a guest's duty of politeness. If anything, it looked like the barest survival going on out here. "But where is the research facility?" The cutting edge technology coming out of the Trebus Workshop, as the engine components we had seen were labeled, was a central element of this emerging economy. I needed to see the research laboratory and production facilities. I had been craning my neck for a view of a modern building any time we came to a high place in the trail, but so far nothing had revealed itself.
Chakotay gestured back into the jungle we'd just traversed. I had lost all sense of direction during our wanderings. "You've already seen it," he said.
I chuckled at his wry sense of humor. "Yes, it looks like quite the operation. But I will need to meet the lead scientist and observe the development process."
He settled the little boy on one knee and the little girl on the other. He turned to the woman with a look I couldn't interpret. "Do you want to tell him, Pallas, or should I?" he asked.
The woman filled my tea cup while shaking her head. "You met Kathryn Janeway and you didn't realize it? I don't have high hopes for your career as a due diligence officer, Dr. Fellows."
I looked around, wondering if there were other people in the hut that I hadn't properly noticed yet. "Captain Kathryn Janeway? Where? When?"
At my words, Chakotay and the others began to laugh heartily, clearly at my expense.
"I don't understand," I spluttered. "I haven't met any Starfleet personnel since our last supply stop yesterday. When would I have met Captain Janeway?"
"She loves to play that game, Chakotay," the woman called Pallas said. "She'll be sorry she missed the punchline."
Finally, Chakotay turned to me, his eyes bright with amusement, kissing the blue-eyed little girl on his lap as he did so. "You did meet her. The children's mother, Dr. Fellows – my wife, Kathryn Janeway."
I could feel the blood drain out of my face. "That was – that barefoot, pregnant woman, that was Captain Janeway?" I tried to remember if I'd said anything to her that was so condescending I would never be able to recover her good will. My mind was blank, and terrified. If I had soured Tevelon's relationship with Janeway, I'd get fired for sure. Why hadn't anyone told me she was involved? Why hadn't I recognized that famous face? I knew the answer to that question. She had been out of uniform, tanned, pregnant, wearing a fairly silly hat, and most of all, not playing the role I expected her to play. I wanted to punch myself in the face. "And her project, on the workbench?" I was mortified, but I had to ask. My voice sounded embarrassingly weak.
"The prototype for our new micro-drive. She says she's almost done."
My mind reeled. The prototype had been right there, less than five meters from me, and I hadn't recognized it. She must think me a total incompetent. "But how can she – doesn't it require an advanced laboratory? Simulated weightlessness? How does she compensate for …" I lapsed into silence, mentally bowled over by the significance of what I had seen. I must have been making helpless movements with my mouth without speaking, because Chakotay suddenly spoke up again.
"When you've made do for as long as we did in the Delta quadrant, you don't have a lot of patience for constructing elaborate facilities to get the job done," he said in a tone that showed no annoyance, only residual amusement. "Besides, she says she likes being outside after being cooped up for so long."
I sat and thought for a minute before opening my mouth again, trying to come up with words that wouldn't be as offensive as the first ones that came to mind. "Please forgive me for the question," I said at last, "but you are people who have lived most of your lives at the forefront of technology and exploration. How is it that you chose to live in … this environment?"
Chakotay snugged his children closer to him and smiled again. The man smiled constantly, as if everything he saw delighted him. Coming from a family background and a profession in which people rarely smile at each other, I found this more than a little disturbing. I wondered if he were entirely sane. "That world is still available to us any time we want it," he said. "Starfleet proposes new missions to us on a regular basis. But we have everything we want here for now, and a wonderful life for the children. They bathe in hot springs every morning, they eat food fresh from the garden, they play all over the colony with the whole community watching over them and teaching them, and they're safe from most modern pathogens and from the violence that's become so prevalent on Earth. We consider it paradise."
"I see," I said. This seemed like a naïve and starry-eyed explanation for self-exile from the modern world, but I wasn't about to start arguing with a potentially lucrative technology vendor, no matter what kind of cult he was running. We sat quietly together for several minutes, finishing our tea. Then I told Chakotay, "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to go back and talk to Captain Janeway a little." I hoped my voice sounded humble yet not completely abject. I still had to negotiate with these people.
With another of those blinding smiles, he rose. "Oh, I'm sure she's waiting for you by now," he said. "Barefoot and pregnant and spitting fire. I can't wait to see her." He started back up the trail at the same high-speed lope, bearing his daughter on his shoulders, the little boy jogging along behind his father as if he could do it all day. I hesitated for a moment, suddenly very afraid of my second interview with the famous captain and brilliant engineer I had so presumptuously dismissed as an insignificant farmer's wife. But of course, there I was in the middle of her jungle with no sense of direction to speak of, and once again I had little choice but to fall in line behind Chakotay and the children and face my fate.