Disclaimer: Star Trek and all its intellectual property belongs to Paramount/CBS. No infringement intended, no money made
Another ship has arrived at the experimental area.
We have gone through this so often now that the procedure is well established. The scientific community are interested, but not excited.
We grew out of being excited many thousands of years ago. There is nothing new, under the stars.
I am tasked with observing on this occasion. I accept the duty with something close to resignation – after all, it is only a matter of recording the time scales, rationale and casualty numbers. Events will play out as they always do; it is simply a case of watching them unfold. The data we bring back will be shared and discussed and added to our sum of the knowledge of other species, and we will dismiss this encounter as we have dismissed all the others, as simply a minor tragedy to a minor handful of a minor product of evolution.
It is customary for observers to perform the task in pairs. Today, I am surprised and slightly put out to find that I will have a new Companion.
I suppose that it is inevitable that sooner or later someone new should wish to take on the role. I will simply have to teach him how to behave himself, and how to regard the subjects of our biohazard experiment as simply objects for our study. It is surprisingly easy at first to slip into the trap of regarding these beings as being of importance to anyone – even, ridiculously, to ourselves! – and to become far too personally involved with their small struggles with the inevitable. And when I encounter my new Companion, I realise almost at once that he will be particularly liable to this weakness. He is full of curiosity and eager to learn – I cannot fault him there – but has a fatal tendency to impulsiveness. Moreover, I detect an endearing but unhelpful inclination to kindness in his nature. It will be hard for him to learn the appropriate detachment necessary for clinical observation. Still, he must be aware of what will be involved, and I will be perfectly able to rein in any attempts to become emotionally involved in the proceedings.
Impulsive and kind. Tch. I do not know what Observers are coming to these centuries.
These new subjects are, of course, explorers. And the world that is the bait in our trap is tempting to all carbon-based species. They will not find out, until far too late of course (if they ever do), that it contains a highly contagious silicone-based virus that – at their level of development – will be completely incurable.
This, of course, will produce the developments that we are here to observe and document.
It is child's play for a species as advanced as ours to obtain the necessary information about our new subjects. Humans, from Planet Earth. Not a very interesting species in itself, in physical or intellectual terms, nor is their technology particularly remarkable. But we are nothing if not equal-handed in observing whatever wanders into our laboratory, and so by the time the members of the inevitable landing party return to their craft, at least one of them will already be infected. From that point onwards, all that will be notable are the variations on a very ancient theme.
How many will die.
In order to interact seamlessly with the actors in the imminent tragedy, my Companion and I will have to take over the consciousness of two of the Humans themselves – preferably two who can have easy access to all parts of the ship likely to be involved. They too may eventually become victims of the virus (depending on the degree of ruthlessness with which its carriers are eliminated, and the virus with them), but we would of course detach ourselves long before that happened. It would be both unpleasant and unnecessary to experience the suffering involved first-hand, and could add little if anything to our understanding of the processes involved; it will be demeaning enough to have to subject ourselves to the sensory input of physical bodies which are fit and healthy, without having to endure their dying agonies as well.
Experience has shown us that merging is most easily done with intellects that (at however remote a remove) are similar in nature to our own. My Companion and I spend a short while drifting around the ship investigating the subjects and learning the location of the sites where the sequence of activity will play out. Various possibilities present themselves as hosts, but the best place to be aware of the events going forward on board ship is the command centre, the 'Bridge' as they call it. When the infected personnel notify their commanding officer of their plight, this is where the call will come in; and so here is the best place to seek for our obliging if completely unconscious hosts.
There are not as many Humans on the Bridge as I might have hoped. Though I am briefly interested by the presence of a non-Human (a Vulcan, it seems, a species that has not yet fallen into our trap but may be an interesting study if they do), this investigation is to determine what Human reactions will be. It may be rather a pity if the results are contaminated in any way by the Vulcan's advice on the situation, but we will simply have to factor that in when compiling our final reports. We cannot eliminate her presence without advertising our own, and so we will have to make the best of things. (The same applies to the Denobulan on board; his position as Chief Medical Officer is singularly unfortunate, but he will be unable to find a cure, so it is to be hoped that his influence over the containment of a potential catastrophe will be relatively minor.)
Needless to say, the Captain is sacrosanct. It is his decisions that will chiefly drive events and, eventually, determine the number of casualties. So our hosts must be selected from among the officers present, and the fates are with us, for there are two who fit our requirements perfectly. Not only will they be in a position to observe – or, more accurately, to facilitate our observation – but their roles preclude them having any part to play in the unfolding medical emergency. They can maintain the charade of being innocent and legitimately concerned bystanders and, as long as we deploy them with the appropriate care to avoid arousing suspicion of any kind, they will be able to ask any questions we deem necessary.
Our infiltration of them is cautious and slow. We have to find out how susceptible they are – if they become aware of our presence, they may alert the others and then the game would be up. We have to accustom ourselves to the distressing and distracting sensations of not only their actions but their thought processes and the incessant physical stimuli that to them are simply the tenor of their existence. We have to experience them vocalising (what a crude and ineffective means of communicating it is!) and determine not only their places in the ship's hierarchy but also their relationship with each other. If they were social unequals or regarded each other with dislike, to have them interacting with one other socially would attract notice. Unfortunately, however, when we Organians are absorbed into physical creatures we become restricted to their own crude methods of communication, and therefore in order to plan our strategy and then carry out our observations we need hosts who socialise with each other naturally and as a matter of course.
Initial signals suggest that these two subjects have feelings of tolerance and respect for one another. They occupy different positions in the hierarchy, but they are comfortable in the relationship. I am, of course, alert for any suggestion that they might be physically attracted to each other; in one way a sexual relationship would be to our advantage, for the subjects would naturally seek each other out, but after having to endure one investigation where I had to bear not merely the usual basic functions of a physical body but the outrage of a completely irrelevant and intrusive act that I still struggle to compartmentalise appropriately, I am reluctant in the extreme to run the risk of it a second time.
Fortunately, this will not be an issue this time. Although my chosen subject is not specifically heterosexual, his interest in the other male's body is tenuous. It would seem destined to remain so, for my Companion reports that his subject is purely heterosexual and unlikely in the extreme to respond positively to any approach of that kind from his superior. I note that my Companion seems more disappointed than relieved by this discovery, and think to myself darkly that he has no idea how lucky he actually is; the total loss of dignity and sheer ... sheer messiness of the whole concept of sexuality was one of the chief drivers of our species' determination to rid themselves of physical existence, and I myself have never ceased to be thankful for its success.
The two men, are, however, 'friends'. Off-duty, they often amuse themselves by meeting to play a game they call 'Chess'. As the Companion and I continue our stealthy invasion, we discover that arrangements for a game this evening have already been made. What could possibly be more fortuitous?
Most importantly of all, our task is made infinitely easier if the minds we select to occupy have similar attitudes to our own. We can mould characteristics already there far more easily than do violence by forcing a subject (I very nearly said 'person', the Companion's naïveté is almost as contagious as our virus!) to behave in a way completely foreign to their nature. And once again, events play into what would be our hands if we actually had any.
The Companion's subject is young, cheerful, gregarious and – in some ways – innocent, though not necessarily unwise. They could hardly be better suited.
My subject, on the other hand, is slightly older, cynical, naturally reserved and intensely wary of contact – Human or otherwise. I doubt whether his young 'friend' really has any idea of the secrets in the hard core I uncover, or whether he would be nearly so comfortable in his company if he had. But he has ample experience of performing unpleasant duties without compunction, and I am perfectly happy to tap into that vein of ruthlessness; it will serve me perfectly to keep so much of a tremor of distress from surfacing when he witnesses the suffering and death of subjects for whom he possibly feels regard or even possibly some primitive form of affection.
Satisfied, I slide into his consciousness so smoothly that his wary examination for alien presences on the new planet's surface is not even interrupted – I am far too accomplished at the process for him to have even the faintest realisation that the alien presences may be far, far closer to him than he anticipates. For now, I will simply sit and observe. Later, during the game of 'Chess', my Companion and I will discuss the imminent experiment. We may compare minor observations on our hosts that may be of passing interest to those who will be studying the minutiae of our reports, but it seems the landing is not scheduled to take place until the planet's rotation brings the chosen area into good daylight. The ship is locked into geostationary orbit, which will conveniently allow the crew to undergo their functional unconsciousness period preparatory to the 'excitement' of the following day.
My Companion has not experienced this strange phenomenon. He is both intrigued and nervous about it, but in a few hundred years' time he will regard it as I do, as merely the necessary evil that it is. Much like the other repellent activities that will also take place before then, all things that the Humans' insensate resignation to their physical slavery must have long accustomed them to. Before the chess game, for instance, it is inevitable that our hosts will eat – another experience that will be a novelty to my unfortunate Companion. Considering our hosts' bodies are well toned, they may also require physical exercise; possibly strenuous, to compensate for sitting immobile for hours at a time on duty. After that, doubtless the demands of 'hygiene' will demand that they clean themselves (I pass over with a shudder what other demands 'hygiene' will make). Only after that will the anticipated chess game take place.
I have spent a great deal of time and effort instilling into my Companion how he must behave. Regardless of the strangeness and wonder of all the extraordinary and sometimes overwhelming effect of physical stimuli, he must maintain his discipline. And I must admit that as hard as I watch, the young helmsman shows no outward sign at all as his host merges with him.
"Still okay for the game tonight, Lieutenant?" he asks jokingly. "I swear, this time I'll beat you! I feel tonight's my lucky night!"
My host raises his eyebrows, but before he can respond, the young female directly opposite him laughs so hard it sets her neat ponytail swinging. "Travis, you've said that every night since you started playing him!"
"Oh, I don't mind, Ensign. There's a first time for everything, after all." I keep my voice level, but Travis's bright glance in my direction says he gets the message. He's eager for his first time, just as I was eight hundred years ago.
And it's the same scenario as it always is; the trap is baited and set, and tomorrow morning it will snap shut on another set of victims. Nothing changes. Nothing ever changes.
Except for how many will die.