From: eisimps@cie.uoregon.edu (Eileen Simpson)
Subject: The Great American Star Trek Novel, Ch. 5
Summary: It's a dirty job, but somebody has to do it...
Organization: University of Oregon Campus Information Exchange
Date: Sat, 29 Aug 92 05:04:35 GMT


The Great American Star Trek Novel, "Where No *Man* Has Gone Before"
(Our Story Continues...)

                                CHAPTER FIVE


  The umbilical snaked from the airlock towards the small alien craft.  
The latter hovered nearby, giving every impression of hesitation and 
confusion.
  Aboard the larger vessel, a small contingent of Enterprise officers 
waited silently in the reception area at the airlock's internal hatch.  
Kirk had deliberately kept the group at the airlock small.  The last 
thing he wanted his counterpart to have to worry about was a large, 
potentially hostile or threatening force waiting just inside 
Enterprise's door.  With that concern in mind, Kirk had expanded his 
original group to include only the highly intuitive, and apparently 
reactive, members of the crew.   Those two officers, Uhura and 
Pavarti, now waited uncomfortably for the aliens' next move along 
with Kirk, Scotty, McCoy, and a two-man Security detail under Pavel 
Chekov.  Sulu and Spock monitored the situation from the bridge, 
relying on a direct communication/data link Uhura had rapidly 
established at the little workstation near the hatch.  Scotty stood at 
the station, and monitored the instruments in the umbilical.   
  Kirk was tense.  With the mad dash about the solar system behind 
him and nothing left to do but wait, he had too much time to consider 
how utterly helpless and dependent on rescue he seemed to have 
become.  Kirk tried to put himself in the position of the alien 
commander as he assessed the situation.  It wasn't reassuring.  Kirk 
knew that boarding an unknown vessel in Enterprise's condition 
when communications could not be established was more than many, 
perhaps most, commanders would consider.  He was more than 
worried about their chances, and although he did his best to remain 
calm, he hovered near Scotty, carefully watching the engineer 
evaluate readings and make adjustments on controls.   Kirk 
continuously reviewed their situation in his mind, looking for any 
possibility he could exploit that might improve their position.
  The tension in the ship mounted as each minute went by without 
activity from the little round vessel outside. Kirk concentrated on the 
alien commander, that someone who had joined him in the odd dash 
around the solar system in what had seemed to be a desperate effort 
to communicate.  He focused his will on his counterpart in the 
smaller ship.
  "He'll do it,"  Kirk willed.  "He'll take the chance and come aboard."  
  "Sir!"  It was Scotty, his voice terse and tense.  "They've taken the 
umbilical!" 
  Kirk moved quickly to Scotty's side.  The engineer worked carefully 
with his monitor and adjusted the umbilical's sensors.  The others 
shifted uneasily as they awaited further reports.
  "It's pressurizing," the Scot reported crisply.  "A bit less than we're 
used to, but it's not serious.  Atmosphere...breathable...Ah!   Should 
be fine--oxygen, nitrogen--all within acceptable ranges..."  The others 
were completely absorbed in the reports.  Scotty bent over his 
controls, then glanced up quickly.  "There's someone in the umbilical, 
coming through, sir."
  Kirk allowed himself only an instant's feeling of success.  Even as he 
turned toward the hatch, he was already asking himself who the 
alien commander would send, preparing himself mentally for the 
critical negotiations that would follow the boarding.
  Kirk knew his ship could not be saved.  The pain of that knowledge 
stabbed deep in his chest, but he pushed it from him.  His duty was 
to his crew, and he forced himself to focus all his energy and 
attention on securing their survival.
  Suddenly, Scotty exclaimed in surprise.  Kirk turned to him 
immediately.   The others reacted with concern.
  "Trouble, Scotty?," Kirk asked worriedly.
  The engineer shook his head.  "I don't know.  Could be, Captain."  
Scotty checked his instruments carefully.  "We've got more than a 
few of them in the umbilical, sir."
  Kirk cast a quick glance at Chekov and his small Security team.
 "How many of them are there, Scotty?"
  "I can't be certain, Captain.  The readings...I don't know, they're just 
not precise."  The engineer continued to coax  the equipment, shaking 
his head.  "I'd say we're dealing with humanoids, sir, and we have at 
least ten of them in there, Captain."
  Kirk and Chekov exchanged grim looks.  It was a worrisome 
development.  Although Kirk's impressions of the aliens' intentions 
from the contacts thus far were not hostile, he certainly did not have 
a lot to go on!  He wanted a second opinion on this development.
  "Spock, what do you think?," Kirk called to his Science officer.
  The Vulcan's response was immediate.
  "It is doubtful that a vessel that size could carry many more than 10 
or 12 humanoid beings, Captain.  To send the entire contingent to 
make contact with us would not be logical, sir, but their behavior 
thus far has not reflected a high degree of concern with logic.  
Nevertheless, there may be a problem with our sensors.  I shall 
attempt to verify Engineer Scott's conclusions."
  Kirk, Scotty, and Chekov regarded each other knowingly.  They were 
all thinking the same thing:  illogical boarding decisions weren't the 
only possible explanations for this development.
  "Scan for weapons," Kirk announced to Scott and Spock, "both of you.  
I want to know about anything even remotely suspicious."
  Kirk could hear the furrow in Spock's brow in the sound of the 
Vulcan's voice over the audio channel, as the latter considered the 
implications of Kirk's order.
  "Captain," Spock said with concern, "there were no indications of 
weapons systems in our scans of the alien vessel.  If we can rely on 
our sensors, it is very unlikely that this is a hostile boarding party.  
If we cannot rely on our sensors..."
  "I get your point, Spock.  I still want a complete scan of everyone in 
that umbilical before we let them come aboard."  Kirk turned to his 
Captain of Engineering.  "Hold them at the door, Scotty."
  The Scot nodded in quick agreement.  He was not enamored of these 
beings, Kirk noted, and needed little encouragement to suspect them.  
Perhaps he considered it possible that they were responsible for 
EnterpriseUs current condition and predicament.  Kirk had to concede 
that anything was possible, in view of the uncertainty surrounding 
these beings,  but he made a note to keep an eye on the reactions of 
his engineer.
  Scotty and Spock continued to evaluate and cross-check their data.  
Eventually the two officers were satisfied.  Spock made their report, 
via the communications panel.
  "It appears that the sensors are in order, Captain, however, our data 
is still unusually equivocal.  With that in mind, we cannot identify 
any indications of weapons or hostile intent in the group preparing to 
come aboard."
  Kirk frowned and turned to Chekov.
  "How about it, Pavel?"
  The Russian shook his head.  "In this case, vhat ve don't know 
certainly can hurt us, Kepten.  Still...it's not as if ve have a good 'B' 
plan, sair," he said wryly.  "I say ve do it.  Let them in."
  Scotty chimed in with a final report.  "They're right outside the door, 
Captain.  Still no sign of weapons or hostile intent."
  Kirk turned to McCoy with a wordless question.  The doctor shrugged.
  "Speaking for myself,"  McCoy announced, "I just have to know."
  Kirk looked hard at the airlock hatch, then at his assembled officers.  
He made his decision.
  "Open the hatch," he commanded.
  The airlock slid open with a soft hissss,  as the atmospheric pressures 
equalized.

  The aliens erupted from the airlock in an explosion of noise, color 
and light.  In that instant of sharp tension and crisis, born of the 
chaos of the alien party's boarding, Chekov's Security team evaluated 
the confusion, making split-second judgments of whether the activity 
was hostile or harmless.  They hesitated, holding their fire, 
tempering their reactions according to their training and Chekov's 
lead.  A moment later it became apparent that their restraint had 
been well-judged:  as the first rush subsided, they became aware of a 
babble of giggling and laughter swirling around them, coming from 
the aliens who darted between the bewildered members of the crew.  
  Confusion reigned.  
  The Security men looked at Chekov helplessly as the aliens milled 
among them.  It was like no boarding party anyone had ever seen.  
Chekov signalled his team to continue their restraint, and turned to 
Kirk with a look that plainly said, "_What else can we do_?"
  Kirk nodded to Chekov that he understood and approved of 
Security's response, and waited quietly for things to settle down.  In 
a few moments, their group of visitors was slightly more subdued, 
and had gathered together in a little cluster on the opposite side of 
the airlock hatch from where Kirk, Scotty, and McCoy stood watching 
in amazement.  
  The visitors bobbed about to the accompaniment of a cheerful babble 
of random vocalizations, which seemed to Kirk to be somewhere 
between a gargle and a yodel.  He assumed it was laughter.  He 
hoped it wasn't their language--it was an incredibly foolish-sounding 
noise.  
  "If turkeys were humanoid,"  Kirk thought, "they'd sound just 
like that." 
  The three senior officers exchanged bemused looks.  Whatever they 
had been expecting, it hadn't been this.
  Their visitors were humanoid bipeds.  They were all dark, but there 
were subtle differences in the coloring of their hair and skin-tones, 
and no single body-type seemed to predominate.  Their facial 
characteristics seemed most consistent with what had once been 
called a 'mixed-racial type' on Earth. Overall, their appearance gave 
the impression of blended diversity.  
  They were undeniably attractive, Kirk decided, but their two most 
remarkable characteristics were their completely playful, utterly 
undisciplined demeanor, and the distinct impression that they 
glittered.  From head to foot...all over...even their hair...even their...
  They were all wearing loose, semi-transparent, diaphanous clothing.  
They weren't naked--exactly--but the attire made it clear that they 
certainly weren't hiding any weapons on their persons, either.
  Now that the visitors were all more or less in one place, Kirk could 
see that there were actually 8 humanoids in the group.  They 
spanned a full range of ages, from a babe in arms, to young children 
who appeared to be about 8 or 9, to adults, to a single, quite elderly 
man.  They were all touching in some way, Kirk observed, with the 
adults, in particular, running their fingers through the curly hair of 
the children and the old man.  All were clearly excited, and 
thoroughly enjoying themselves.  If they gave any indication of 
concern or discomfort, it was the slight indication that they found the 
reduced heat of the ship a bit brisk in their light attire.  Otherwise, 
they appeared to have not a care in the world.
  Kirk frowned, annoyed that anyone would take the desperate 
situation of his ship and crew so lightly.  He spoke tersely into the 
com-link to the bridge.
  "Spock, get down here," he growled, irritation in his voice.  He looked 
at McCoy in disgust.  "What the hell is this?," he muttered to the 
doctor out of the corner of his mouth.  "A family outing?"
  McCoy gave a disbelieving shake of his head in response, and began 
his medical scans.  Scotty folded his arms across his chest, and gave 
the little group of visitors a long, hard, glare.
  Kirk stepped forward, trying to guess who, if anyone, was in charge.
As he moved past the open airlock, Kirk caught a sudden flash of 
light and rapid movement out of the corner of his eye.  He began to 
turn toward it, and, in the instant before their collision, found 
himself looking at a late arrival.  The latecomer bounded out of the 
umbilical, straight into the arms of Captain James T. Kirk.
  Kirk struggled to restrain his irritation at the giggling being who was 
falling all over him, as well as to keep them both from losing their 
balance completely.  It was a female.  At their present degree of 
proximity, (as Spock would say), and given where Kirk found his 
hands, (which McCoy was surely noticing), there was no mistaking 
the being's gender.  Kirk couldn't help but be acutely aware of the 
soft curves of her body as he involuntarily held her close.  She 
seemed young and blossoming, to his experienced touch, and 
although he was aware of desire, his primary reaction was one of 
awkwardness and annoyance.  
  She apparently found their situation hilarious.  He began untangling 
himself from her immediately.  This was not the time for a tumble 
with one of the local spaceheads!
 He caught his balance,  got a good grip on her arms, and held her 
steady in front of him, determined to hold her at arms' length until 
she had gained the small degree of restraint that apparently passed 
for composure among these people.  As their balance stabilized, he 
reconsidered the situation.   It was an opportunity to study one of 
the aliens up close.   He decided he may as well take advantage of it. 
  He looked at the female in his outstretched arms.  There was time for 
only a quick, fleeting impression of her before his eyes were hit by 
another burst of dazzlingly bright light.  He blinked hard and quickly 
looked away, averting his eyes until the spots had cleared from his 
field of vision.  When he looked back at her again, he did so carefully, 
giving his sight time to adjust.   
  She was young, he decided, appearing to be just at the verge of 
adulthood, but she was almost his height.
  He was taken aback by her eyes.  They were unfocused, with only 
the vaguest suggestion of a pupil and an iris which reminded him of 
fractured crystals.  The iris changed color as he watched, 
accompanied by the sound of the female's soft laughter.  The lack of 
focus in her eyes disturbed him, and despite everything that had 
happened, and all he observed of her reactions, he had the strangest 
sense that he had not fully engaged her awareness or attention.
  He expanded his consideration of her to the rest of her face and head.
  Her features were intriguing.  Like the others, her facial 
characteristics and coloring suggested a mixture of those found in all 
the races of Earth.  However, in her, the combinations were not 
simply attractive, but beautiful, and exotic.  She had deep, richly 
colored brown skin,  and  something in it reflected points of light, as 
if it had been impregnated with tiny bits of mica.  In fact, he noted, 
everything about her seemed to glitter, from the top of her curly, 
mahogany hair,  to the strange covering she wore.
  He had to look at her body carefully, protecting his eyes from the 
unpredictable bursts of light that could flash from her at any 
moment.  As he continued his evaluation, he became aware that 
alone, of all her group, she did not wear the light attire of the others.  
The young woman in his arms wore something made up of a net of 
some kind of small, hard objects, sensors perhaps, that sparkled in 
impossibly rich patterns.  It was the net which apparently emitted 
the almost strobe-like flashes that came from her body when he 
tried to look at her too closely.  As the moments passed, the pulses of 
light became less intense and less frequent, and Kirk was finally able 
to risk a more careful observation of her garment.
  It was stunning.  It reminded him of a web of gems, in which each 
jewel's facets reflected the brilliance of all the others.  It danced 
before Kirk's eyes in a mesmerizing display.
  Kirk released her, and turned to the business at hand, intent on 
salvaging the situation and saving his crew.  He moved toward the 
gurgling little group which still stood beside the airlock hatch, 
lightheartedly watching him deal with the young female.  Kirk asked 
himself whom he should address, particularly since no one appeared 
to be in charge.  He considered the adults carefully.
  The assembled aliens seemed in high spirits as they watched his 
approach.  They giggled even more among themselves as he 
prepared to speak.
  It was not an encouraging sign.  Kirk frowned, and found himself 
becoming nervous.  He decided to direct his remarks toward the old 
man.  He collected his thoughts and prepared to speak.
  The frisky young female was back after his attention in an instant.  
She darted up to his side, clearly attempting to engage him in more 
playful antics.  Kirk reacted unfavorably to the distraction, frustrated 
by the lack of perception of his shipUs situation in her vague, 
unfocused eyes.  He put out his hand to hold her away as he 
continued to approach the others.
  She took hold of him in an instant, with an outrageously playful 
shriek.  Kirk pulled away in annoyance.  The young woman and the 
others responded with delighted surprise.  A broad smile joyously 
filled her face, and Kirk found himself wondering how anyone so, so 
_vague_ could be so persistent.
  She was a pain in the neck.
  She could also be indirectly dangerous, he reminded himself.  If he 
indulged his growing desire to put her in her place and get her out of 
his hair, he might offend these people--perhaps irretrievably.  They 
weren't any of them restrained, professional-looking, Vulcan types, 
he noticed.  Perhaps this was in the range of acceptable behavior 
here.
  Kirk gritted his teeth and resolved to be patient with her.  He 
maneuvered her off to one side.
  "I am Captain James T. Kirk," he announced formally, to the huddled 
little group.
  They grinned back at him cheerily, their blithesome smiles on their 
faces with the vague, unfocused eyes.  Kirk's frown got bigger, and he 
went on.
  "We have been diverted here by an unknown force..."
  The sprightly young woman gave a mischievous chortle, and jumped 
in front of Kirk.  She was even more vivacious than she had been just 
a moment before.  The action provoked a titter among the little 
group Kirk was trying to address. 
  "_I do not need a cheerleader right now_,"  Kirk thought in irritation.
He tried to step past her, but she remained in his way, much to the 
amusement of her friends.  Kirk set his jaw and decided to try to talk 
around her.
  "We have sustained severe damage and loss of life..."
  The little group of sparkling aliens continued to chirrup merrily as 
Kirk bobbed about, trying to convey his ship's desperate situation 
and engage their compassion, while simultaneously  trying to talk 
around the young female in his path.
  "... I'm speaking to you on behalf of my crew. This ship can not 
sustain their lives much longer.  We are in dire need of landing 
privileges on your world," he pleaded.  
  _What was wrong with these people?  Surely they must realize the 
implications of the condition Enterprise was in.  What was going on?_
  "We ask your permission to enter your world.  We will not set foot 
there against your will," Kirk assured them, "but without your 
permission to settle on your world...," he stopped trying to talk 
around the young woman, grasped her firmly at the waist, and lifted 
her bodily to one side as she gave a "Whoop!" of excitement, "...this 
entire crew will surely die," he announced grimly, spelling it out for 
them.  "We need your help," he pleaded.
  The aliens seemed entirely absorbed by his actions with the young 
woman, their high-spirited hilarity bizarrely out of place in the 
context of Kirk's impassioned pleas.  The Captain was stunned.  He 
paused in bewilderment, then turned to the others.  They were 
equally aghast.
  Kirk turned to Uhura, who stood near Pavarti watching the scene in 
open amazement.
  "Uhura, do these people have a clue what I'm saying?," he asked her 
in unbelieving frustration.
  "I don't know, Captain.  My tricorder shows that the Universal 
Translator is fully operational.  But even if it wasn't," she replied in 
bewilderment, "anybody should be able to just, well, look at our 
situation and see what's going on!"  Uhura shook her head as she 
moved to the equipment at Scotty's station.  "This kind of reaction 
and behavior is not normal for humanoids.  I have a feeling we're 
dealing with a lot more than incompatible hardware..."  
  She began punching up information to run a complete check of the 
Translator's operation.
  "Bones!," Kirk demanded.  "These people have ears.  Do your scans 
show they're working?"
  "Absolutely, Jim.  The stuff I'm getting is still weirdly distorted, but I 
feel pretty comfortable on that question."
  "Captain!," Uhura interrupted from where she stood, reviewing her 
first test program.  "We have a big problem, Captain," she pointed to 
her displays worriedly.
  Kirk could see something of the screen.  While his knowledge of the 
system was basic, he needed no help to know he was looking at the 
Universal Translator, Trouble-Shooting program.  There, flashing 
across the screen in clear, bright letters, was the almost-never-seen 
phrase, *CALL OPERATOR,* the automated equipment's distress signal 
that it was entirely unable to independently deal with a particular 
form of communication.
  Kirk shook off the latest attention from the glittering young alien, 
and moved up to Uhura in concern.
  "What does it mean, Uhura?," he asked, noticing that the little female 
had followed him like an over-eager puppy.  "Can you fix it?"
  "I'm not sure it means there's anything broken, Captain.  I'll do my 
best, sir, but if this is linked to their behavior in some way..."  She 
sighed, and knitted her brow.  "...I think we have a big problem, here, 
Captain.  Dr. McCoy, I'm going to need some medical information if 
I'm gonna have a prayer of sorting this out."
  McCoy nodded his understanding.  He turned back toward the 
huddled group by the airlock.  
  "Damn!  They're too close together or something.  I don't seem to get 
individual readings on them."  Uhura looked up from her work at his 
remark.  "They don't read as a group consciousness, but nothing's 
consistent with them being fully individual organisms, either.  They 
seem separate...and yet connected in some way.  Maybe it's the way 
they touch each other...  I don't know," McCoy muttered,as he held 
his scanner before the huddled group of aliens, "I need some good 
individual results, and they're all practically intertwined over 
there..."
  Kirk started to dodge the animated female in the jeweled sensor net 
yet another time, then stopped.  He called to McCoy.
  "I think I know where you can find a 'single' for your readings, 
doctor," Kirk remarked with wry annoyance.   He nodded toward the 
girl.  "I'll keep her busy while you scan."
  Kirk turned the young lady toward him, and focused his attention on 
her with a big smile, much to her obvious delight.  McCoy began his 
scans.  It was easy to keep her occupied, Kirk thought.  All he had to 
do was act completely interested in her, and...
  She spun about in excitement, her attention obviously diverted from 
Kirk by the doctor's actions as he made his medical scans.  She 
bounced about before McCoy in her usual frolicsome manner.  McCoy 
smiled sweetly and held up his medical scanner,  continuing his 
work.
  The girl giggled merrily, reached out, and took McCoy's scanner.
  "You're welcome," McCoy remarked, as he watched the little alien 
hold the object up before her vague eyes.  "Uhura, did we download a 
complete set of data, or do I need to wrestle this little lady to get 
that back?"
  Uhura checked the display.  "Your data on her is unintelligible--
completely distorted.  It looks like we can sort out the scan from the 
group, doctor, but I'm going to need you to interpret it."
  McCoy moved quickly to Uhura, as Spock arrived from the bridge 
and stepped calmly, but briskly into the airlock's receiving area.  
Kirk attempted to move toward the Vulcan, only to find that the 
pretty, young alien female was still following his every move, with 
her usual playful eagerness.
  Spock noticed the young woman.  Her appearance.  Her attire.  Her 
attachment to Kirk.  
  Both eyebrows went up, and the Vulcan's face took on a look that 
clearly communicated his suspicions.
  Kirk practically exploded from barely contained exasperation.
  "Ignore her," he ordered Spock.  "They can't understand us anyway."  
  Spock looked a bit speculative, but remained silent.  Kirk found the 
silence that followed more embarrassing than Spock's usual remarks.  
  "Do you know the situation here since you left the bridge?  Let me 
fill you in," Kirk volunteered.  
  Before Spock could decline the offer, the Captain relayed the strange 
developments with the boarding party to the Vulcan, as efficiently as 
he could.  It wasn't the easiest conversation Kirk had ever had with 
his Science officer.  The little female  continued cozying up to Kirk 
throughout the process.  
  The human did his best to avoid her, without being rude.  She took 
his actions in stride, laughing softly at Kirk's efforts to deflect her 
attentions, and adjusting easily to the presence of his Vulcan friend.  
She seemed to take no notice of the fact that, unlike the rest of the 
Enterprise crew she had encountered thus far, Spock was different.  
Not human. 
 Uhura and McCoy were huddled in intense discussions at Scotty's 
workstation, which they had essentially taken over.  The Scot stood 
to one side, listening silently.  He still appeared coolly reserved, if not 
actually hostile, as he watched events unfold around him.  
  Kirk moved to the station with Spock.  The little alien tagged along 
beside him.
  "Do you have an answer?," Kirk asked McCoy and Uhura, brusquely.
  "Well," McCoy announced, "the short answer is that we have a huge, 
perhaps insurmountable, communications problem, here, Jim.  The 
longer answer is the reason why we believe the short answer.  I 
think the fastest way to explain it is for Uhura to explain how the 
Universal Translator operates in the first place."
  Kirk interrupted with a wave of his hand.
  "That's pretty basic stuff, doctor.  I think we can assume we all know 
about Rhoandan's Universal Constant."  
  Kirk referred to Rhoandan's simple, but profound insight, which had 
led to the development of the Universal Translator and the ability to 
establish inter-species contact.  Rhoandan was credited with the 
fundamental realization that the perceptual/cognitive systems of all 
conscious beings operating in so-called 'normal' space-time, are 
organized on the basis of polarity, that is, the ability to draw of 
distinctions between pairs of opposites, in the field of time.  
  Using her knowledge of how specific species processed and organized 
information, and comparing that to their brainwave scans, Rhoandan 
had discovered that brainwave patterns were pointers which, when 
properly analyzed, revealed a species' specific conceptual framework 
and allowed the generation of equivalent frames of reference 
between two groups.  
  Once Starfleet had that information, it had been relatively simple to 
construct the Universal Translator.  The beauty of the system was 
that the more contact they had with other life-forms, the more 
brainwave patterns were available for the equipment to 
automatically identify as similar to a new species', and draw on by 
analogy.  The steady expansion of Starfleet's brainwave and cultural 
data bases, and the refinement of the technology that scanned and 
processed the brainwaves, was what was eroding the need for 
Uhura's job.
  Like everyone else in the fleet, Kirk took it as axiomatic that any life-
form that was operating in "real world time" was using a conceptual 
framework that was based on duality and the ability to perceive 
differences.  Even the highly evolved or non-corporeal beings they 
encountered used a dualistic system, or accessed the memory of a 
previously used and now "outgrown" dualistic system, whenever the 
species chose to operate in the "here and now."  
  The Universal Constant was just that:  universal and constant as to all 
conscious life operating in normal space and time.  Establishing 
communication with a new species was simply a matter of plugging 
into the right framework in the system.  Kirk waited impatiently to 
find out the source of the difficulty in establishing contact with this 
race of beings.
  "What is it?," Kirk demanded.  "Weren't you able to get a clear 
brainwave scan for analysis?"
  Uhura shook her head.
  "That's not the problem, Captain.  I wish it that simple, but the data 
says it's not.  In fact," she hesitated, as if unwilling to believe her 
own report, "the data suggests that Rhoandan's Universal Constant is 
not applicable to this race."
  Kirk's surprise was immediately followed by disbelief.  Spock's 
reaction was more subdued, but the Vulcan was clearly intrigued by 
the suggestion.
  "That is an astonishing claim, Cmdr. Uhura.  If you are correct, this 
would be the first humanoid species for whom the polarity constant 
did not apply.  Indeed, this would be the first corporeal species of 
any type for whom this would be the case.  I would like to hear the 
evidence supporting your hypothesis."
  Uhura and McCoy had suspected that this request was coming.  They 
exchanged glances to see who would go first.  McCoy took the bait.
  "There are a host of things that support the conclusion that these 
people don't operate out of even a remotely similar system, and 
some of them are observations that are immediately apparent to all 
of us, Jim," McCoy began.   "First, there's the fact that although these 
beings are biologically very similar to humans, and appear capable of 
hearing in all our normal ranges, they aren't responding to our audio 
communication at all.  Second, they aren't responding to what should 
be readily apparent from their own observations, without need of 
any interpretation from us.  The condition of the ship for example.  
How we must feel about it."
  McCoy paused.   Kirk nodded, indicating he understood and agreed 
with the observations.
  "They aren't responding to anything in this contact the way we 
would expect a humanoid species to respond," McCoy continued, "and 
their reactions are especially odd when you consider that we're 
biologically similar creatures in what is obviously a life and death 
situation.  We might expect that these people could be hostile to us.  
They might be indifferent.  They might be concerned, or fearful.   But 
_comedy_ is not an anticipated humanoid response to our situation."
  "Understood, and agreed," Kirk acknowledged impatiently.  He 
wanted McCoy to move along.  He knew he needed complete 
information if they were going to be able to figure out a solution, but 
he resented the time it was taking to convey it.
  Uhura stepped into the discussion quickly.  
  "In addition to those readily observable behaviors, my analysis and 
observations specifically related to the communications specialty are 
strongly indicative of three conclusions."
  Uhura took a deep breath before she went on.
  "My data indicates that these beings have no language and no 
linguistic system, verbal or otherwise.  Also," she said firmly, in her 
clear voice, "there are no indications of metaphoric behaviors or 
representational systems.  Third," she continued, knowing from the 
look on Kirk's face that she would have to go back and explain the 
second point, "the brainwave analysis from the translator showed no 
recognizable pattern from any species we've encountered, including 
the Medusans and the Organians.  There are fragmentary similarities 
to other species, including humans, but in the context of the first two 
problems, they're entirely inadequate to generate any meaningful 
dialogue between us.  
  "In short," she concluded, "we aren't communicating because the 
equipment can't decipher their conceptual framework.  These beings 
operate from a system thatUs so alien, Captain, we can't get the 
common frame of reference that's necessary to understand each 
other."
  Kirk held up his hand for her to stop.
  "Wait a minute, Commander.  Correct me if I'm wrong, but the 
Universal Translator's brainwave analysis works because all 
conscious life, regardless of its biology, relies on perceptual systems 
that are organized around Rhoandan's Constant, isn't that right?"
  Spock looked up from his own review of the data and intervened.
  "You are correct, Captain.  It is a universal constant that all 
intelligent, conscious life-forms that have primary existence in our 
continuum of space-time, regardless of other biological differences,
utilize conceptual systems that are based upon drawing distinctions
between pairs of opposites, in the field of time.  It has been 
definitional that all such consciousness is based on the perception of 
duality, that is, the ability to perceive differences.  The Universal 
Translator brainwave analysis is based on that constant.  It is the 
key insight which has allowed us to communicate with other life-
forms with such a high degree of success."
  "...And brainwave analysis should be able to pick up some 
fundamentally similar patterns that are based on that constant," Kirk 
concluded.  He turned back towards the woman who was telling him 
what he didn't want to hear.
  "This has to be a problem with your equipment, Uhura, some kind of 
damage that isn't immediately apparent.  I mean, let's face it,"  he 
insisted, "this equipment has operated successfully with life-forms 
far more alien than these.  I'm willing to concede the possibility that 
the brainwave constant may not apply to all races at all times, such 
as non-corporeal, multi-dimentional beings, for example.   What I'm 
not willing to agree with, is that the system collapses when we're 
dealing with a humanoid species."  Kirk was obviously very close to 
ordering them to establish communications, and not taking 'no' for an 
answer.
  "Captain," Uhura said wearily, "the evidence is overwhelming that 
these beings are not using a recognizable conceptual system."
  "Perhaps I can assist in clarifying the implications of Cmdr. Uhura's 
observations, Captain," Spock interceded.   Kirk indicated Spock 
should go on.  The Vulcan's voice was calm and soothing.
  "The humanoid conscious mind is an analog of what is sometimes 
called the 'real world.'  It is built up with vocabulary or a lexical field 
whose terms are all metaphors, or analogs of behavior which is found 
in the physical world.  Its reality is on the same order as 
mathematics."
  Spock continued, expertly explaining the basis of Uhura's conclusions, 
knowing that his relationship with Jim Kirk would generate the 
patience and willingness to listen that the human Captain would need 
to understand the situation. 
  "In such a system," Spock continued, "to understand a 'new' thing is 
to arrive at a metaphor for that thing by substituting a reference to 
something more familiar.  The feeling of familiarity is experienced as 
understanding."   
  A natural teacher, Spock continued drawing the connections Kirk 
needed, in steady, even tones.  
  "The use of metaphor is inherent and pervasive in such a conceptual 
system, Captain, and metaphors are based on the ability to perceive 
similarities and distinctions.  In addition, language and linguistic 
systems are themselves based on metaphor.  Your words for 'I am' 
and 'to be', for example, and the concepts they represent, may be 
traced back to terms which originally meant 'it breathes' or 'it grows'.  
While the relationship is hidden, even the most basic terms of your 
language, express concepts which are derived from analogies--
metaphors--drawn from behavior found in the physical world."
  Kirk was listening now, in spite of himself.  
  "In this context, Captain, the absence of a linguistic and metaphoric 
system is extremely significant.  Not only does it render us unlikely 
to be able to establish a basis of communication with these beings, 
consciousness, everywhere, and in every species we have 
encountered, has been a function of lexical metaphor.  The absence of 
these factors is strongly indicative of a species which is not conscious, 
at least not as we understand that term. 
  "Furthermore, if I understand the implications of what I am seeing 
in Dr. McCoy's medical report correctly, the most likely explanation for 
our inability to communicate, and their apparent oblivion to our dire 
situation, is that they do not, in fact, perceive it; that they are 
not operating with a perception of duality, and that they cannot draw 
distinctions between things we would experience as obviously different."
  "Such as life and death, for example?," Kirk asked Spock, sarcastically.
  "Such as life and death, Captain.  The distinction does not appear to 
be part of their conscious experience," Spock affirmed.  
  Kirk didn't know how to take that.
  "How could life possibly exist in that situation?," Kirk demanded 
testily, unwilling to believe what the others seemed to be saying.
  "Well," McCoy offered, "our biological scans offer some clues, Jim.  
Their physiology is amazingly similar to ours in many respects, but 
there's one really remarkable difference--their reticular formation is 
incredible."
  "What the hell is that, doctor?"
  "The reticular formation is made up of tiny internuncial neurons.  It's 
primarily located at the top of the spinal cord, and runs through the 
brainstem, up into the thalmus and hypothalmus.   It has multiple 
direct lines to all major areas of the cortex.  That much is true for 
both our species, but in their case, this system is over 1700 times as 
active as ours.  Their system not only extends down the spinal cord, 
like ours, it's profoundly tied into their peripheral sensory and motor 
systems--even their hair!  In fact, as best I can determine, it's the 
activity of this system that makes them 'sparkle'."
  Kirk knew enough human biology to recognize some of what McCoy 
was describing.
  "Isn't the reticular formation the place in the brain where anesthesia 
produces its effect?," he asked.
  "That's right," McCoy agreed.  "In most humanoid species with this 
feature, the system operates to sensitize or awaken certain selected 
circuits in the nervous system, and desensitize others.  It's involved 
in dreaming, and if you stimulate it, you'll wake up a sleeping 
animal," McCoy explained.  "Cutting it produces permanent sleep and 
coma."
  "Fascinating, doctor.  How does all this help us?"
  McCoy sighed.  "It's useful from the standpoint that it's some clue as 
to why these beings might be built like us, yet perceive things in a 
radically different way.  This formation profoundly influences the 
operation of the sensory and motor systems, and it grades the 
activity of other areas of the brain.  It's very responsive to changes 
in its neurochemistry, and they have some differences in that which 
might be significant.  At this point, all I can say with certainty is that 
what I've observed in the activity and development of their reticular 
system could be significant enough to account for major differences 
in how they experience reality, Jim."
  McCoy searched for the words that would make his opinions clear.
  "In other words, Jim, I think these people have such highly 
developed sensory systems that they probably have no clear 
experience of 'self' and 'other'.  They can get that much more 
information from their nervous system about their environment.  
And, Jim, since--in humans--this is one of the oldest areas of the 
brain, it's entirely possible that they've always been this way."
  "And if that's the case," Kirk reluctantly concluded, acknowledging 
the others' train of thought now, "they may not have an experience 
of life based on the perception of differences or opposites."
  "That's essentially it," Uhura agreed.
  "What the hell do you think they do have as the basis of their 
experience?," Kirk demanded.
  The others exchanged glances.
  "Something based on unities...a sense or feeling of...oneness, I guess," 
Uhura offered, hesitantly.  "You see, sir, this is the problem.  We 
can't really imagine what their conceptual system is, or how it 
operates."
  "_So how the hell do we establish a common frame of reference for 
communication?_,"   Kirk asked himself, as he turned away, angrily.  
He was not going to accept the idea that the situation was impossible.  
His face set grimly as he glanced around the room, looking for some 
option.
  His gaze fell on Pavarti, who stood nervously and insecurely off in a 
corner.  
"_What the hell is he doing here?_,"  Kirk wondered.  Then he 
remembered:  Pavarti was highly intuitive.  Like Uhura.  Like Kirk.  
  He'd ordered Pavarti down there because the most intuitive humans 
among the crew had seemed to be reacting to something while 
Enterprise was trying to establish contact with the alien vessel.
  Kirk stared hard at Pavarti.  The young officer shifted self-
consciously, and began to sweat.
  They'd all picked up the same odd, seemingly meaningless words, 
Kirk thought.  Words like 'play,' and 'fun.'  Kirk glanced at where the 
alien group stood amusing themselves, completely oblivious to how 
foolish they appeared to the Starfleet personnel.  
  He'd had the desire to giggle, Kirk reminded himself, turning to look 
at the young woman who still stood cooing at his side.  
  He turned back toward Pavarti, an expression of intense concentration 
on his face.  The Ensign squirmed.
  "_Maybe we're going about this all wrong_,"  Kirk thought.  Maybe 
there was an answer, but it wasn't going to be gained from sticking 
with the usual, dignified forms.  They had a crude sort of minimal 
contact established through the humans' intuition.  Kirk had gotten 
the aliens aboard the ship by his willingness to follow his instinct to 
'play' outside, in the shuttle.   Maybe there were some possibilities 
after all.
  Maybe what they needed was to access some other "Universal 
Constant," besides the duality principle, Kirk said to himself.  
  The little alien took his hand and smiled at him, in her pleasant, 
unfocused way.  She still wanted attention, Kirk noted, distractedly.  
He was no longer annoyed.  His mind was absorbed in finding the 
solution to this puzzle.
  What was the other Universal Constant of their Starfleet experience?
  The young female ran her fingers playfully across Kirk's hair, 
drawing her fingertips along his temples, and lightly over his 
cheekbones, to the tip of his nose, and then, with a giggle, down to 
his lips.  
  Kirk did his best to ignore her, and the sensations brought 
up by her actions.  He forced his mind to recall anything he had ever 
read about consciousness and conceptual systems.  The small amount 
of contact they had established through intuition showed there was 
some overlap in their conceptual circles, however small and 
subconscious it might be...
  "That's it!," Kirk announced to the startled officers.  "Uhura, I want 
you to rig the Translator so it is operating entirely out of our 
subconscious.  Get rid of every vestige of our conscious framework 
that you can..."
  The others were shaking their heads.
  "You don't know what you're asking, Captain..."
  "Jim, it won't work..."
  Kirk closed on them quickly, determinedly.
  "I don't want to hear it," he barked.  "You say these people can't 
experience differences, that they operate from a sense of...of 
oneness?  Fine!  The human subconscious senses underlying 
unities, does it not?"
  "But it can't work, Captain!  We experience it by metaphor--and they 
don't have metaphors for us to decipher and link up with..."
  "Uhura!"   Kirk cut her off.  "This is an order.  You take that 
Translator, and you do whatever you have to do to put these people 
in direct communication with our subconscious!"
  Kirk turned to stride away.  The little alien was still in his path.  He 
started to avoid her, then changed his mind.   
  "_Screw it_,"  he thought.  "I may as well try stuff out on this one!"
  He resigned himself to the young lady's attentions, and waited for 
Uhura to finish with the equipment.

                                    (To be continued...)