Commander Etan Iljor: The Welcoming Committee

[Michael Meir-Wright]

OOC: Adding a small morsel of dialogue to the previously established conversation. It does not alter the narrative in any way.

“The Welcoming Committee”

(( The Village of Tran’Haleth, Somatrik Mountains, Cheyd’lang ))

The vista before them looked like something out of a holodeck program- a sight so beautiful and peaceful that it could not possibly be real. From snow-capped mountains to a cerulean river meandering its way through a valley of viridian and crimson, it was one of the most glorious views  that Iljor had laid eyes on. Similarly, Tran’Heleth was just as glorious: A small agrarian village built into the hillside at the base of a towering butte. Its cobbled streets- along with the brick and shale buildings- looked untroubled by the passage of time. Strips of coloured cloth hung between the structures, fluttering in the chilly morning breeze.

It was not what Iljor had imagined the epicentre of a powerful and xenophobic movement to be like.

Etan: I was expecting… :: beat :: … something a lot less series. :: he shook his head. :: Not that I am complaining, mind.

Sherlock: No, not at all. It’s like somewhere you might go for a fishing trip.

Toz: These are the ones who contacted Starfleet? You’d think there’d be a show of some conflict.

The First Officer shook his head, turning from the stunning scenery to look at the Octavia E. Butler’s Acting Chief Medical Officer. He could not blame her confusion, Starfleet Command had sent a great deal of information about the native Cheydalanga, even though much of it was repetitious and there was little in the way of actual confirmed data.

Etan: No. That’s the government. :: beat :: We are here to meet with a faction believed to be xenophobic and advocate for the expulsion of all non-Cheydalanga influence on the planet. :: which begged the question, if they were so anti-alien, why did they agree to meet with them, however reluctantly? :: With that in mind, we don’t want to keep the King’s Path representative waiting. First impressions will be everything. :: beat :: Commander Sherlock, take point. Lieutenant Nilsen, run scans of the local area. If there any any surprises waiting for us, I would like to be prepared. :: he sniffed. :: Doctor- :: he looked back at Toz, :: - let’s see what we can learn about the Cheydalanga as a species- and what they might need in the way of provisions.

Sherlock: Aye, Sir.

Nilsen: Yes sir. ::Taking out TriPADD::

Following Sherlock’s lead, the away team began to descend a short winding path down towards the mountain village. As they did, the Chief of Security wondered aloud.

Sherlock: So, they didn’t give us anything? No information on why they wanted to meet?

Etan: None. As I understand it, the King’s Path were reluctant to meet with us and only agreed after repeated requests for parley.

That made sense to Iljor: why would an apparently hostile and xenophobic organisation want to meet with the sort of people they were actively campaigning against interacting with? And to his surprise, he could understand why that might be so inclined. The Dominion had- for all intents and purposes- invaded their world three decades earlier, and if the Jem’Hadar and the Vorta were the only species that the Cheydalanga had encountered- it was no wonder why they were so anti-alien. To the XO, it was not unlike the rise of The Circle in the aftermath of the Cardassian withdrawal from Bajor.

Nilsen: They want to find out who we are, just as much as want to find out who they are. None of us have the upper hand yet so the price of working something out with them is cheap right now.

Iljor, who was a couple of paces behind Nilsen, looked at the back of his head, impressed. The de facto Assistant Chief of Operations had cut through all the uncertainty succinctly, and had arrived at a natural conclusion that made a great deal of sense. For all of the junior officer’s impulsivity, he had a sharp and analytical mind- one that the Bajoran suspected he would need during what was likely to be fraught discussions.

Sherlock: I don’t want to sound suspicious, but if I wanted to lure someone in, this is how I’d do it. By being nice.

The XO knew Aine well, having served with her for several years, on and off. She was always on high alert for threats, and she was not one to go into any situation unprepared. He knew that he could not discount the possibility that the King’s Path were luring them into a false sense of security. If they were as aggressive and isolationist as the Cheydalanga government had claimed, then he actively expected a trap.

Toz: I think you’re right, commander.

Etan: oO Hope for the best, be prepared for the worst. Oo Even so, we cannot be led by suspicion and distrust. We go to them with open arms and with nothing to hide.

Sherlock: Of course not. I’ll let my actions be guided by theirs.

Beeping and chirping emanated from Doctor Toz’s tricorder as swept it from side to side, running the scans that Iljor had asked her.

Toz: ::sweeping her medical tricorder from side to side:: No outward signs of illness or disease. We’ve got to get closer for me to get a better reading. They’re pretty tall. The could mean if there are medical issues it would be related to the genetic makeup.

At the mention of genetics, Iljor found himself relieved that Rivka Brzezinski had not been assigned to the away team. The Neuroscientists would not have been able to control herself and would have likely incited a conflict with her poking and prodding.

Nilsen: We don’t have the whole story yet. They might simply be opposed politically to the group meeting on the ship and all we’ve heard about them are rumours. ::Quietly under his breath thinking noone could hear:: I should know.

The First Officer was close enough to hear Nilsen’s murmured utterance- but chose to ignore it.

Nilsen: Besides, communication comes from understanding each others point of view, Darmok and Jalad at Tanagra.

Again, Iljor found himself gladdened by Nilsen’s keen insight. The breakthrough in relations with the Tamarians made by Admiral Picard on El-Adrel IV was required reading at the Academy, a timely example of the importance of learning to forge a dialogue with even the most alien of species. The idea that anything could be achieved just by talking and finding common ground was a powerful one.

Etan: Exactly. :: he replied, somewhat proud of the HCO. :: Anything you can tell us, Lieutenant? :: he continued after a moment.

Nilsen: They’ve had a bad harvest. Look ::Showing TriPADD:: at least 50 hectares have not been farmed for at least three years. It’s normal to let land fallow for a year, maybe two, but not three and not that much land. I’d hazard a bet they’re struggling.

Iljor looked at the TriPADD’s readout and nodded in agreement. It made for a grim assessment.

Toz: Land would only be left vacant a year would be my guess. That’s all that’s needed on earth to replenish the nutrients. Agreed that this planet could be different but look at the hills. :: waving towards the hillside:: It’s the colors of rich soil.

Though he had been born and raised on his family’s farm, Iljor was no expert. Though he had helped during ploughing and harvesting as a teenager, he had never been all that interested in the mechanics of farming and the condition of soil. Instead, he had spent most of his childhood with his nose buried in history books or dreaming of excavating a hitherto undiscovered section of B’Hala. Still, the Bajor possessed enough rudimentary knowledge to know that the half-Klingon physician was correct. The visible soil did appear to be a healthy colour, at least by Bajoran standards.

Etan: You’re right. :: he responded, his words coloured by notes of concern. :: I wonder what happened here.

Sherlock: Response.

Nilsen: And ::tapping the PADD then turning to Sherlock:: What you make of those readings sir. I think they’re watching us.

Movement on the trail ahead caught Iljor’s eye, and he came to a stop as he beheld two Cheydalanga approaching. Easily two metres high with smooth round heads, they were humanoid- up to a point. With deathly pale skin and featureless faces, they appeared to lack noses aside from two upswept slits where one ought to be. Their mouths protruded forward, almost like a beak, except they appeared to be covered in scaly skin instead of bone and keratin. Each one regarded the away team with large almond-shaped  eyes significantly larger than the norm, with thin pupils that bisected the irises. They sported no hair that Iljor could see, also revealing two slits on either side of their head that he assumed functioned similarly to ears.

Their lanky torsos were draped in multicoloured fabrics that appeared to be frayed at the hems and patched at several points. Looking for a commonality in the patterns, the Bajoran could find none and he surmised that they were not ceremonial patches, but ones born out of necessity. It was much the same on their legs, with cloth covering much of their legs. Given their state of dress- and Lieutenant Nilsen’s earlier comments about a bad harvest- Iljor guessed that they were impoverished.

Etan: I think they’re doing more than that, Lhando. :: he said quietly, nodding in the direction of the oncoming Cheydalanga.

Sherlock: Response.

Toz: Should we use a formation of sorts? Sherlock bring up the rear in case we end up surrounded?

Iljor shook his head. While it was certainly tempting to act in a defensive manner- especially in the heartland of a xenophobic organisation- he was acutely aware that they need not give these people any metaphorical ammunition. No, they would be open, respectful and friendly. Even if they were met with the opposite.

Etan: No. We’re here to make peaceful contact with these people. We don’t do anything that could give them the wrong idea.

Sherlock / Nilsen: Response.

Toz: Right. No weapons yet. But the look on their faces are not exactly friendly.

She was right. The closer the two Cheydalanga came, the more Iljor could see the distrust and suspicion written across their round faces. Even their long, loping strides were wary. He was no expert in body language, but even so he could tell that they were not going to be welcoming. Looking at their slender forms, the XO felt a small sense of relief that neither of their greeters appeared to be armed, although there was every possibility that they were concealed weapons under their draperies. 

The Cheydalanga came to a stop at the foot of the incline that the away team were descending and one of them held out a hand with seven spindly fingers, the palms of which were covered in the same scaly skin as their mouths.

Cheydalanga #1: Halt! Who are… What are you? :: their tone was distinctly masculine and and filled with naked suspicion.::

Etan: I am Commander Etan Iljor of the starship Octavia E. Butler, representing the United Federation of Planets. My crew and I- :: he motioned to Sherlock, Nilsen and Toz :: - have come to meet with a representative of the King’s Path. We are expected.

Sherlock / Nilsen / Toz: Response.

The two Cheydalanga looked at one another and began to whisper, although Iljor could not make out what they were saying. Unsure of how this suspicious beginning was going to play out, the Bajoran’s heart began beating a little quicker. Finally, after a few moments, the first Cheydalanga looked back at the away team.

Cheydalanga #1: You will come with us.

Iljor bobbed his head once in acceptance and then glanced at the team, encouraging them to follow. Their Cheydalanga escorts turned without waiting and began walking back the way they had come, towards the village of Tran’Haleth. It was hard to tell whether their unfriendliness was born out of genuine xenophobia or the fact they had never seen aliens before, but it left the XO wondering what they were getting themselves into.

Etan: Friendly sort. :: he muttered as he started after the two. ::

Sherlock / Nilsen / Toz: Response.

Etan: We should do as they say for now. No point in angering them, it won’t get us anywhere.

Sherlock / Nilsen / Toz: Response.

Eager to hear what his team thought thus far, the XO opened the floor to them.

Etan: Opinions, please.

Sherlock / Nilsen / Toz: Response.

--

Commander Etan Iljor

Executive Officer

U.S.S. Octavia E. Butler

C239203TW0