Enterprise – The Maiden Voyage

by Soledad

For disclaimer, rating, etc. see the Introduction

Notes are at the end of the chapter.

Beta read by the wonderful and generous LoyaulteMeLie, whom I owe my gratitude. All remaining mistakes are exclusively mine.


Chapter 11 – Here There Be Dragons

Due to the additional damage caused by the mysterious alien vessel, in the end it took Enterprise twelve additional days to reach the Berengaria system.

Fortunately, with the jamming field created by the 'Shroomies' gone, they had been able to contact the Synodium, as the Viseeth government was called. Thus for the second half of the last leg of their journey they were accompanied by a cloud of small, automated defence vessels that looked very much like a swarm of angry insects, buzzing around industriously while gleaming in dark, jewelled colours.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" Hoshi watched them on the viewscreen with interest.

She wasn't an engineer, but her chosen profession had still made her technically savvy, so she could appreciate the efficiency of the little ships as much as their design.

"And deadly," T'Pol commented. "They are steered by the brain waves of a navigator sitting in a well-protected dome, down on one of the planets, and can therefore be as fast as the metal they are constructed of can bear."

"Somehow I think this alloy can bear a lot," Jack Archer said; then he looked at T'Pol. "But… haven't you said that the Viseeth can no longer summon the necessary violence to fight their enemies?"

"Not physically," the Vulcan corrected. "And they would not initiate any act of aggression against others. That does not mean, however, that they would not – or could not – defend themselves if they have to."

"How so?" Reed asked with professional interest.

"These drones are purely defensive weapons, constructed to disable the propulsion and weapons systems of any hostile ship," T'Pol explained. "Their reach is limited, though, which is why they could not come to our aid sooner."

"Better late than never," Jack said philosophically. "Would it be possible to contact their border patrol to express out thanks?"

"We do not have a border patrol, Captain," the low, melodious voice of the Viseeth answered, and Gerasen Gerasal entered the Bridge. "But it is possible to speak with the technician on duty from the Defence Directorate if that is your wish."

"I would not advise doing so," T'Pol said before Archer could reply. "No offence, Captain, but most Viseeth are a great deal less tolerant than Gerasen Gerasal. Most of them would refuse to speak any other language than their own; even Vulcan."

"I could deliver the standard greetings and expressions of gratitude, at the very least," Hoshi offered shyly. "That is, if you want me to do so, Captain."

Half a dozen humans and one Vulcan turned around to stare at the communications officer with identical, shocked surprise.

"Since when do you speak Viseeth?" Jack asked. "I've been told repeatedly that it's impossible for humans to learn."

"Not impossible," Gerasen Gerasal corrected. "Just very difficult… unless one has an extraordinary ear for languages, as Ensign Sato does. I have been teaching her since my recovery."

"I thought the Viseeth would never teach their language to other people," T'Pol said, clearly insulted – or as close to being insulted as any Vulcan was capable of.

"As a rule, we do not," Gerasen Gerasal agreed. "However, it is very rare that we would find a person with such a gift as Ensign Sato's. We value such rare gifts and are more than willing to nurture it." She turned to Hoshi. "Please, contact the Defence Directorate through this channel."

She reached over Hoshi's shoulder with a slim, elegant hand and hit a series of buttons. Then she tilted her head apologetically. "And let me speak with them… just in case. You are showing great progress, but my people can be a little… particular about correct pronunciation."

Hoshi looked at Jack, received his nod of permission, and opened the channel.

A moment later another Viseeth appeared on the viewscreen: beautifully patterned and bald-headed like Gerasen Gerasal, although with broader, blunter features… a lot less feminine-looking, despite the fact that all Viseeth belonged to the same dual gender. He – because the difference in appearance involuntarily suggested a male persona – seemed less than pleased about having to bother with lesser species, but Gerasen Gerasal's presence forced him to remain civil, at the very least.

The two Viseeth led a short, rapid-fire conversation full of hissing and clicking noises – Hoshi noticed that the pitch of their speech went higher the more irritated they grew – then the contact abruptly broke. Gerasen Gerasal stretched her long neck briefly – a gesture that probably indicated annoyance among her kind.

"My apologies," she said. "Stariva Stadrani is a rather short-tempered individual… and a great supporter of the isolationist faction."

"Which is why he took a job in the Defence Directorate, I suppose," Jack said.

Gerasen Gerasal inclined her head. "Indeed, Captain. I admit that your quick conclusion surprises me."

Jack shrugged. "It makes sense. Will he try to prevent us from entering the system?"

"Hardly." Gerasen Gerasal made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a derisive snort. "And even if he and his fellow isolationists tried, they would not succeed. I am a member of the Synodium, and as such I outrank everyone else save for my fellow councillors." The words were followed by that high, chirping sound associated with laughter. "I am a member of what you humans call the upper echelon, and a senior member of the Synodium. There are only a few dozens of us."

"Does this mean we'll be actually allowed to go down to Berengaria VIII?" Jack asked.

"To Berengaria VII," Gerasen Gerasal corrected. "As Subcommander T'Pol has no doubt told you, we rarely allow strangers to set foot to our homeworld. Even Vulcans are hardly ever permitted, despite our long-time alliance. We use our sister planet for diplomatic contracts, rare though they may be."

"So you leaders have to hop planets whenever they want to meet someone?" Charlie Tucker raised an eyebrow. "Sounds unnecessarily complicated."

"As I said: it is a rare occasion," the Viseeth replied. "Most of our people do not want to leave the homeworld; that is one of the reasons why we use Vulcan mediators in our dealings with other people. But technically it is not really complicated to get from one planet to the other. Not with telenavigation."

"Tele… what?" Charlie Tucker, generally uninterested in politics, was suddenly all ears.

"It is the Antosian method to travel," Gerasen Gerasal explained. "I do not truly understand the scientific purpose behind it, but basically, you get the travel route programmed into your brain; then you enter the station where you depart, walk the virtual matrix and leave the station at your destination mere seconds later. We received the technology from the Antosians several hundreds of your centuries ago, and they have been maintaining the system ever since.""Oh!" Charlie's hopeful expression turned to disappointment. He'd have loved to get a glimpse of such amazing technology, but it seemed unlikely that he'd get the chance.

"Perhaps one day," Gerasen Gerasal said, as if she'd read his thoughts.

Which she probably had. Viseeth were short-range telepaths who didn't have to touch somebody to read them like the Vulcans did. Then she turned to Jack.

"Captain, you must understand how very rare it is for my people to permit access a young species like yours even to our sister world. Therefore I ask you to choose your delegation very carefully – and to keep it small. We cannot provide the isolationist faction with more arguments to close our borders completely."

"Why would they want to do so?" Reed asked. "It's my understanding that your people have accepted their role as guardians voluntarily."

The Viseeth tilted her head in agreement.

"We did. But until a hundred of your years ago, we were used to carry out our role from a dominant position. Ever since our mysterious adversaries emerged, that dominance has been questioned. As a mammalian species, you probably cannot understand how threatened that makes us feel."

"In other words: when met with an equally strong adversary, your people simply panicked," Jack summarised.

"That is a crude yet basically correct way to put it," Gerasen Gerasal admitted. "However, it is not the strength of our adversaries that makes us afraid: it is their chaotic nature. As amphibians, our entire life is based on the biological necessity of cyclic order; and that need for order has been transferred to every aspect of our existence during the long path of our evolution."

"And that's why you picked the Vulcans as mediators," Reed realised. "Because they're every bit as obsessed with order as you are."

"Again, crude but accurate," Gerasen Gerasal said. "We do not deal well with unpredictability; and you humans have the reputation of being highly unpredictable – at the best of times."

"And these aren't exactly good days for any of us," Jack nodded, obviously understanding the message. "Very well; I promise to choose my team very carefully."


By the time they entered geosynchronous orbit above Berengaria VII, Jack had already made his decision. He chose Hoshi (for obvious reasons), T'Pol (to balance out human unpredictability, as he jokingly put it,) Reed (even though they were not allowed to carry anything resembling a weapon on them; Reed could kill a Klingon with a salt shaker in sixty different ways and probably had done so before) and Tucker, just because.

T'Pol of course, protested against Tucker's presence, pointing out that the volatile nature of the chief engineer might endanger the mission, but Jack would be damned if he robbed his old friend the chance to see an alien world for the first time – and such an amazing one at that. So he put down his foot; and Trip promised to behave.

Seen from orbit, Berengaria VII was an amazing sight. For starters, it was ringed – unusual for a non-gaseous planet, although not entirely unheard-of – and exquisitely beautiful. Most of its surface was covered in water, with small continents scattered across it like pebbles. The three moons of the planet glittered amidst the rings like jewels in the folds of a shawl of turquoise gauze.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you, Captain?" Mayweather asked with ill-veiled longing to go down to the planet. "Navigating the shuttlepod through those rings won't be easy."

Jack grinned at him. "You may have broken my Academy records, Travis, which I'll never forgive, but I'm not a dotard yet, either. All those training runs among Saturn's rings will pay off, I'm sure. You keep my ship safely in orbit; that will be tough enough."

"Aye, sir," Mayweather replied unhappily.

"Captain," T'Pol intervened quietly, "we should leave now. The Viseeth do not appreciate unpunctuality."

"Right," Jack activated the intercom. "Captain to Away Team: meet me in Launch Bay Two in five minutes."

That they were already present when he went down to Launch Bay Two showed how eager his team was to go.

"Shuttlepod One prepared and ready to launch, sir," Crewman Haynem, the duty officer, reported crisply.

"Thank you, Crewman." Jack turned to the Viseeth, gesturing towards the shuttlepod. "After you, Ma'am!"

Gerasen Gerasal climbed into the small vessel wordlessly.

T'Pol followed suit, handing Jack a PADD on her way in. "We are expected on the Hirena continent," she said. "These are the coordinates."

"Understood." Jack waited until his passengers were all safely seated, and then gave the order to depressurize Launch Bay Two.

It was time to see a real alien world with real aliens on it – even if their mission of deep space exploration had yet to begin.


Navigating amidst the myriad pieces of ice and space debris that made up the spectacular rings of Berengaria VII proved trickier than he had expected. But he hadn't held the Academy records on the simulator for over a decade (until Mayweather broke them in his final year) for nothing. After some flashy flying (including a couple of kamikaze tricks to avoid collision with random meteorites) he cleared the rings with the shuttlepod still in one piece and set it down safely in the landing area assigned to them in central Hirena, one of the small western continents.

For a moment they all sat quietly, the humans trying to regain their balance, while T'Pol was unhurriedly preparing herself for the planetary conditions. Not only did she put on a breathing mask, she also donned a broad belt weighed down with padded iron packs.

"The surface gravity of Berengaria VII is roughly two-thirds of the Earth norm," she explained, seeing the confused looks of the humans. "As a Vulcan, born and raised on a heavy-gravity world, I would be at serious disadvantage without the additional weight. Also, the planet has a very damp atmosphere, which would be harmful to my lungs."

"Shouldn't we take similar precautions as well?" Jack asked worriedly.

The Vulcan shook her head.

"That would not be necessary. Human lungs are well-suited to breathing humid air. Commander Tucker and Ensign Sato will have it the easiest, being used to Florida and Brazil, respectively. As for the lesser gravity, as long as you refrain from sudden movements, you should be all right."

Jack accepted the answer and they climbed out of the shuttlepod to take their first look at an alien world – with the possible exception of Reed, that is.

Viewed from on its surface, Berengaria VII was as exquisitely beautiful as seen from orbit. Its rings were visible even in daytime, like swathes of translucent gauze scintillating in shades of blue and green in the pale rose sky, as the system's primary, a red giant, was just slipping below the horizon.

The air was heavy and humid and very warm, making it somewhat hard to breathe. Even Hoshi and Trip, more used to damp, warm places than the rest of them, were glistening with sweat within mere minutes. Reed looked like somebody who would keel over any moment but managed to go on by sheer willpower.

They were standing in the middle of a meadow, verdant and fecund with wild grasses and shrubs that had spear-shaped, shiny dark green leaves and small delicate flowers in deep, jewelled colours, predominantly red, hot pink and amber, but indigo and white could also be seen.

A range of low hills surrounded the meadow on three sides, with the unbroken green wall of a natural jungle towering behind them. On the fourth, the western side, there was a lake, its waters burnished in shades of emerald and amethyst as the sun sank behind it.

In the middle of the lake there was a large island, covered with the same semi-tropical flora and crowned by a strangely organic-looking building of an indeterminate shape, parts of it being obscured by the towering trees. It seemed to have been composed of frozen water, glittering in jewelled colours – mostly emerald green, pale gold and azure blue.

"That is our destination," Gerasen Gerasal told them. "The governing body of the Berengaria VII colony has it grown here because this area was naturally less wooded than the other continents."

"Grown?" Tucker echoed in surprise. "How?"

"Biotechnology," the Viseeth replied simply. "Due to our biology we are more tightly bound to our planets of origin than other species – but that also means we can use their resources in ways few other species can."

"Grown…" Tucker repeated in amazement, eyeing the semi-living building that looked vaguely like a giant cauliflower with irregular side branches.

Jack, however, had other, more practical concerns. "How do we cross the water? Do you have boats or something?"

"Of course not!" Gerasen Gerasal replied in obvious horror. "This is the only spawning lake on Hirena; we would endanger our young by soiling the water! No; we have a simpler and faster method to get to Central Island."

She touched something on her utility belt, and in the next moment they were all standing at the entrance of the oddly shaped building.


If possible, the lighting in front of the government building was even more beautiful than their landing place. The sunlight gleamed through high pink clouds while the ghostly reflection of the rings shimmered in the darkening waters of the 'spawning lake'. Low bushes lined the nearby bank of the lake, richly hung with amber-coloured, near-translucent fruits that had a striking resemblance to cloudberries. Small, winged reptiles – barely longer than a Terran dragonfly and as semi-translucent as the fruits themselves – hung upside-down from the berries or flitted around in pairs or singly, singing in a high pitch at the upper range of what human ears could still perceive.

"Ékanthon," Gerasen Gerasal said, giving them a fond look. They are our equivalent of insects. They can change their colour to match their surroundings, like Terran chameleons – only faster."

She held out a hand and one of the mini-dragons sat down on her palm, gradually darkening until it matched perfectly the mahogany hue and white pattern of her skin.

"We keep them as pets," she added, blowing at the glittering little animal to send it its way. "They are strictly herbivorous; we also call them fruit dragons."

She turned around and laid her palm on the front door that was patterned like a seashell and glittered as if made of mother-of-pearl. A moment later the door simply vanished, allowing them to enter the building. Gerasen Gerasal led them directly to a round platform in the middle of the foyer.

"The conference room is on the top level," she said. "Do not be disturbed; using the peristaltic space for the first time can be a little unsettling, but you will get used to it. I assure you, it is perfectly safe – another piece of Antosian technology we have been using for millennia."

Before they could have asked her what the hell peristaltic space was supposed to be, they were… sucked upwards, there couldn't be any better word for it. The gleaming walls hushed by them at alarming speed, until an invisible hand seemed to pick them up and set them down on a platform that might or might not be the same as the one they had started from.

The Viseeth had been correct: it was an unsettling experience. Even Jack, who usually didn't even know how nausea was spelled, felt a little green around the gills. Hoshi seemed to have fared little better. Reed looked likely to throw up any moment, and the tip of Tucker's nose was suspiciously pale.

Only T'Pol appeared completely unfazed – but again, she'd had previous experience with the thing. Besides, she was probably busy fighting the lack of proper gravity at the moment.

"Here we are," Gerasen Gerasal announced, and touched the ornate door right in front of them to open it.


The room behind the door was unexpectedly large and airy – they were obviously in the branched-out upper section of the building. At first it also seemed to be empty – until four other Viseeth entered through another door. As soon as they had taken some pre-determined position, a long table with ten seats emerged from the floor, first as shapeless blobs of indefinable biomatter, but taking on solid form in mere moments.

The Viseeth sat without a word and Gerasen Gerasal gestured the visitors to do the same. The whole thing happened in eerie silence; it wasn't the most encouraging atmosphere. The unknown Viseeth were bald, every single one of them, their expression unreadable.

They weren't wearing any clothes, save for utility belts, with one exception. This one seemed much older than the others, their skin faded to ash grey which, Jack supposed, had to be their equivalent of ageing, and they wore something akin to a Roman toga, only made from some shiny, dark green fabric that looked like silk.

It was this individual who turned first to Jack, then to Gerasen Gerasal. The latter remained silent for a moment; then she, too, turned to Jack.

"Tilin Trasal requests a direct telepathic connection, for the sake of better understanding," she said. "They assure you that they shall not look into anything personal; just what has references to this mission."

Jack shifted position uncomfortably. He didn't like the idea of the ancient one poking around in his head; on the other hand, they had at least asked, although they clearly could have done so without his permission… or his knowledge, for that matter. Besides, most Viseeth probably didn't talk too much, not with spoken words. Why should they, if they could talk mind to mind?

He glanced at T'Pol, who gave him a barely perceptible nod. The thought of relying on a Vulcan's guidance wasn't entirely comfortable either, but who else had previous experience with the Viseeth?

"All right." He gave in, and leaned back in his seat, which seemed to adapt to the change of position without delay. "What do I do?"

"Nothing," Gerasen Gerasal replied. "Relax and let us do all the work."

Jack tried desperately to suppress the associations coming up unintentionally at that. The wave of tolerant amusement coming from Gerasen Gerasal revealed that he hadn't been very successful. He just hoped that the other Viseeth, being basically asexual, wouldn't have the references to take offence.

Then he felt the touch of something utterly ancient and utterly alien in his mind and all frivolous thoughts were blown away, as if swept up by a hot wind. Not having had any telepathic contact before, at first he seriously panicked, afraid of losing himself completely. It was obvious that the Viseeth Elder was not used to dealing with minds as fragile as the human norm and could easily have damaged him beyond repair, without actually meaning it.

After the first moment of blind panic, however, he could feel another identity enter their connection. By means far beyond his comprehension, he recognized Gerasen Gerasal, and her support was as calming as a cool breeze on a hot day.

"Do not be afraid," she 'said', though there were no real words, just a profound understanding. "Follow my lead; I shall guide you."

And thus they continued, Gerasen Gerasal's mind stretching out like a shield between him and the Elder's relentless probing, so that he would not suffer permanent damage, while Tilin Trasal sifted though his memories regarding the Suliban intrusion, Gerasen Gerasal's kidnapping into subspace and the attack by the mysterious alien ship as if they were leafing through a book. They kept their promise; nothing else was touched.

Despite the unpleasant side effects – like a splitting headache and some nausea – it was an interesting experience. His less than detailed memories (those of the Shroomies for example) were brought into sharp focus that was nearly painful – like when a shadowy corner gets illuminated by a too-bright torch. Suddenly he could remember minute details he wasn't even aware of having marked in the first place.

Interesting, yes, but utterly exhausting.

"That is enough," Gerasen Gerasal said, speaking out loud. "He cannot endure much longer; not at the moment anyway. His species is not suited for this kind of communication, and he is of no use to us when he is dead."

At least that was what she said, according to Hoshi's subsequent report; at the time, Jack was incapable of hearing it. In any case, the Viseeth Elder let go of Jack's mind, and Gerasen Gerasal slowly, carefully guided him back to full consciousness. He resurfaced feeling as if he'd been saved from drowning in the last moment.

"He will need to rest and restore his strength," she then said to T'Pol. "Rooms have been prepared for you on the lower levels, with the environmental controls set for your respective needs. We shall hold council once he has fully recovered and my memory engrams have been extracted and analysed."

"Are we allowed to explore the immediate surroundings?" T'Pol inquired. "I imagine that Ensign Sato in particular would enjoy doing so. She used to live in a tropical jungle for an extended period of time."

"Naturally," one of the older Viseeth answered; it sounded as if they were no longer used to actual speech and their vocal cords had gone rusty. "We shall assign one of our young to act as your guide."


With that, they were summarily dismissed and relocated to the guest rooms that had been adapted to Vulcan and human needs, respectively. T'Pol was relieved to be able to put down the weighted belt and the breathing mask and immediately retired to her room to meditate.

The humans, however, were eager to see more of this incredible world, and as soon as they made sure Jack was all right and were assured that he would be sleeping in the next couple of hours, they signalled their intention to go outside. They were asked to wait for the arrival of their guide.

Soon thereafter an amazing little creature came to fetch them. It basically looked like a half-sized Viseeth, but its skin was pale yellow, with dark brown patterning, like the negative image of an adult's skin patterns. It was bald-headed, naked save for the obligatory utility belt everyone seemed to wear here, and – unlike the adults – seemed excited to meet them.

"Greetings!" it chirped happily; to their surprise, it spoke a passable enough English. "Apologies for the delay; I needed time to learn your language. It is a remarkably illogical one; very interesting!"

The three Enterprise officers (sans Reed) smiled involuntarily. The little thing was so cute, so very different from its stone-faced elders.

"I am Mishih," it continued. "The Elders assigned me to show you around." It looked doubtfully at their uniforms with its huge, liquid dark eyes. "You won't be very comfortable in those clothes outside, though. You should wear less."

Tucker and Reed exchanged uncomfortable looks but Hoshi simply nodded and stripped down to her tank top and pants without delay. After a moment of hesitation the two men followed suit (although mildly embarrassmed) and they could finally go outside.

Night had fallen during their meeting with the Viseeth Elders, but that did not mean actual darkness, not on this planet. The rings of Berengaria VII glittered on the night sky, draped across it like the planet's own personal Milky Way,' in the folds of which her sister planet, Berengaria VIII – the actual Viseeth homeworld – seemed to rest like a marbled glass ball. Also, the density of stars was much higher than on Earth's night sky, peppering the firmament with uncounted bright dots, their light twinkling as it was filtered through the thick, humid atmosphere.

The heavy, spicy scents in the air were much stronger than they had been upon their arrival, due to the night-blooming flowers becoming active, Mishih explained as he led the visitors down to the edge of the water. The dark surface of the spawning lake was rippled as little, tadpole-like creatures – patterned the same manner as Mishih – poked out their heads and chirped at the visitors excitedly.

"They are this cycle's spawn," Mishih explained, "not exactly sapient just yet. It takes us eight cycles to develop full sapience, and another eight to complete our transformation to air-breathers. I only emerged from the waters half a cycle ago myself and have a long way before me until I become fully adult."

"How long does it take?" Hoshi inquired.

"That is different for each individual," Mishih replied, "but usually we require between ten and sixteen cycles on land to complete our physical and mental growth. Which is when we receive our permanent name and assume our place in the family."

Considering that a Viseeth 'cycle' was approximately four Earth years – Berengaria being a large sun – that meant the average Viseeth would reach maturity in about a century, give or take a decade. But they were an extremely long-lived race. They had no reason to hurry up.

Before any of the visitors could have asked another question, something huge blotted out the light of the stars. An enormous, winged creature, shimmering in the reflection of the rings like pale gold, flew over their heads, its long, thorned tail meandering behind it lazily. It drew a wide circle above them; then it touched down near to the lake (fortunately a little further along the shoreline), threw back its large, frilled head and opened its mouth wide. A burst of fire escaped its mouth, and the thorn-like things seaming its sides and tail deflated like punctured balloons. Then it laid its head on its foreleg, closed its eyes and apparently fell asleep.

"Was that… is that a dragon?" Hoshi could barely contain her fascination. "A fire-breathing one and all, like in the legends?"

"Our dragons draw hydrogen from water and store the gas in those sacks along the sides of their abdomen and tail," Mishih explained as if it were nothing unusual; for a Viseeth, it probably wasn't. "The sacks serve the same function as the swim bladder in Terran fish, offsetting much of the dragon's weight by the buoyancy of the lighter-than-air components. When no longer needed, the excess hydrogen travels to the dragon's mouth, where it is exhaled and ignited by electrochemical means, as you have just seen, so that the animal can rest comfortably."

"Incredible!" Reed commented; the others had never seen him so amazed by anything that wasn't a weapon before. "I wonder if similar creatures have once lived on Earth during the dinosaur age, giving birth to our planet's numerous dragon legends."

"If they have, no proof has been found so far," Hoshi said a little sadly. "A shame, really – they are so beautiful!"

"They are," Mishih agreed. "Unfortunately, they are also quite lacking in sense – and often more affectionate than is convenient; especially those that are fully grown."

"What do you mean?" Tucker asked, eyeing the sleeping dragon warily.

Mishih gave him a sour look. "Can you imagine a dragon of this size that wants to cuddle with you? Trust me; it isn't an experience you'd want to ever repeat."

"So, how do you keep them from smothering you?" Reed looked at the slender young alien doubtfully.

Mishih showed him a flagon with a dispersion head. "With applied biochemistry. We spray a compound at them they find disgusting, so they back off. It is quite harmless, really. The smell isn't even unpleasant – not for us anyway – but the dragons hate it. Come now; there are many other beautiful things to see."

~TBC~


Notes:

The idea of telenavigation has been borrowed from "The Dramaturges of Yan" by John Brunner.

Peristaltic space (at least that's what it's called in Hungarian translation) is mentioned in "The City and the Stars" by Arthur C. Clarke.

The specifics about the Berengaria dragons are taken from "The Worlds of the Federation" by Shahne Johnson.