"THERE IS A SAYING in the Book of Muharbar," Maldari said to the Steersman behind him. "Things belong to those who desire them most."

Maldari stood in front of his viewscreen, staring at the enormous, sleek U.S.S. Excelsior, its white hull gleaming, its observation ports shining, its huge twin nacelles' engines silent as it floated in black space.

"I have heard they are capable of a cruising speed of warp eight," the Steersman said. "And that they can stay in space for five years at a time, without returning to their port."

"You have heard more than that," Maldari said, knowing the young Steersman was out of his planetary system for the first time. "You have heard that Federation Starships are invincible. You tremble at the thought of their power, their swiftness. You believe they have magical abilities to be everywhere, hear everything, see everything. But they do not."

"They have defeated Klingon Birds-of-Prey in interstellar combat."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps the Klingons defeated themselves." Maldari twisted to see his Sightsman. "Have they scanned us?"

"Not yet," the third Beta Promethean on the bridge answered.

Maldari turned back to the young Steersman. "Then put that dead moon between us at once."

Maldari watched the sparkling Starship disappear behind a great gray lusterless globe, pockmarked with craters.

"You don't want the Federation ship to see us?" the Steersman asked. "Are we going to --"

"Patience, Barush. I don't know what we are going to do. When I do" -- he turned away from the screen, and his sharp, crooked teeth flashed in a sarcastic smile -- "you will be the first I will confide in, of course." Maldari's pear-shaped body, which rested on four short legs, scuttled behind the two crewmen and ducked under the archway. The young Steersman's mottled gray face darkened with embarrassment.

Maldari continued along the corridor joining the bridge to the Sundew's central hull. In the meantime, he thought, it will be best if they are unaware of us. Perhaps it can be to our advantage. It has been an unrewarding voyage. We have boarded an ancient starship that turned out to be virtually empty but for a few scientists. No valuable commodities, not even any women to take to the slave markets. We landed on a planet that had no use for dilithium, or any other goods, for it had no technology. We have searched whole systems and found little of value. Our holds are practically empty, after nearly a year away from port. Our permit for star travel will be rescinded if we do not bring home something valuable, and if I cannot tithe a sufficient amount to the Shrewdest Ones, they will mark my ship as undesirable, and I will have difficulty enlisting a crew for another voyage.

Frustrated and dismayed, Maldari entered the central cabin. His foul mood further darkened when he found both Kornish and Dramin there.

The U.S.S. Excelsior
Somewhere beyond the frontier
Spring, 2294 A.D.

The planet floated serenely in black space, three-quarters of its surface shimmering in blue, the rest islands of brown and green. Puffy white clouds hugged it and a single barren moon drifted in close orbit. How like Earth, Sulu thought as he watched it on the forward viewscreen, and for just a moment he was back there, wandering the pleasant streets of San Francisco, where, almost three decades earlier, he had reported to Headquarters for his first assignment for Starfleet and the United Federation of Planets.

It was quiet on the bridge of the Excelsior. Low voices percolated around him. Lights had dimmed automatically when the science officer put the illuminated celestial body on the monitor. Most of the crew were staring at it, as Sulu was, transfixed by its beauty.

"In actual fact, it is not a bit like your home planet," Science Officer Sencus said in a low voice to Sulu from behind him, guessing his thoughts. "According to our scans, the atmosphere is entirely free of pollution, the soil is without chemicals of any kind, and the water is pure Hb2bO. There are eighty million species, all fairly abundant, from insects to fish to mammals, some of which have developed a fairly complex form of communication. But nothing humanoid. From volcanic substances we can estimate the age of the planet to be one hundred fifty billion years, somewhat older than the Earth, in fact. It has abundant vegetation and no carnivorous species. Surface storms are short-lived and mild. Because it is equidistant from two suns, the temperature only varies approximately ten degrees in either direction from a mean of fifty degrees Celsius."

"In short, it's a paradise." Sulu smiled. "Lucky us."

"None of the species has made any attempt to leave the planet," the Vulcan went on without acknowledging Sulu's comment. "Nor have they yet attempted to communicate with other sentient beings."

"We could be in stationary orbit in one hour, Captain," Sulu's navigator said. "I'd be glad to lead a landing party." The young officer had turned around and was smiling at Sulu.

The conversation had attracted half a dozen of the officers on the bridge. They were clustered around the captain's chair, trying to appear casual. But Sulu knew perfectly well what they were hoping. It had been several months since they had last set foot on land, and their most recent visit to a foul and frigid planet inhabited only by massive swarms of watermelon-sized animals resembling cockroaches could hardly be called rest and relaxation. They were hoping for a chance to make a closer examination of the pristine mass that floated on the monitor in front of them.

"Unfortunately" -- Sulu raised his voice for the benefit of his eavesdroppers -- "we will have to pass it by. If we reveal ourselves to them at this time, the knowledge of our existence alone could alter the course of their history. Suddenly aware of artificial technology and other civilizations, they might be forced to respond. And as you all know, it is against the Prime Directive of Starfleet that we should interfere in any way with the development of another civilization. Sorry, ladies and gentlemen."

The little body of officers drifted away amid some groans and muttering.

"A logical decision, Captain," the Vulcan science officer said. "Though apparently an unpopular one," he added.

Sulu looked up at Commander Sencus. When his original science officer, Masoud Valtane, had been transferred to another assignment, Sulu requested the old Vulcan as his replacement because of the Vulcan character. Although it was sometimes a strain to continually be confronted with a man who lacked emotion entirely, he knew from observing the relationship between the captain and the science officer on his first starship assignment that it was worthwhile. A Vulcan's ability to meet every situation, no matter how urgent or complex, with crystal-clear logic, could be an excellent balance for a commander with human emotions and sometimes all too human failings.

"They had hoped to spend a few days on a nice, habitable planet," Sulu explained.

"Why?" Sencus asked.

"Because -- well -- because it's a new environment. They could have taken a walk, or a swim."

"They can do that on the rec deck," Sencus answered.

"Well, they could have had a meal that wasn't from the synthesizers. Perhaps even held a conversation with an alien. You know, just a little change from routine. Something different from our starship. Just for the variety. For the pleasure of it."

"The pleasure of it... I see." Sencus nodded, then returned to his customary station at the science console.

Clearly he doesn't, Sulu thought. He doesn't see at all.

Copyright © 1990 by Paramount Pictures