Rules Are There For A Reason

Our examination of the 6 worlds was supposed to be incognito. Our space wheel had reflective technology which cloaked our little home away from home so that we could watch. We were there to secretly monitor the election of the Grand Leader of the Six Worlds, an election that is supposed to occur every 7 years.

I was the Commander of that mission: My name is Tom Durfee. With me were my Communications officer Sam Oliver, Staff Lieutenants Martha Bachman and Sally Carty and our morale officer, Satchewon Pillingly.

The event that jeopardized our mission came about in stages: The first night, some of us were disturbed by strange forebodings. They registered with us more or less like bad dreams, and we did not give them much thought…but on The second night, Lieutenant Bachman, who I will call Martha for the rest of this report, yelled out in the night. We scrambled to her room and found her lying on the floor sobbing, and wailing, “this cannot go on!” She kept moaning, wrapped up around the lower leg of her bed. Sally was comforting Martha, while Satchewon went for a sedative.

Martha was in no condition to speak, so I left Sally there with instructions to stay and help Martha if possible. “We’ll meet in the kitchen in two hours to discuss what happened.”

Martha is a wonderful officer; She is also highly sensitive. But in the 5 years that I worked with her, I never saw her in such an emotional state. Satch brought the sedatives and Sam and I went to check out communications until report time.

At the kitchen at 0500 Sally turned up. Satchewon made coffee and brought out some peppermint schnapps…he knows how much Martha liked it, and he smuggled it into our luggage before we left Space One, quite against the rules…but that was one of the things we loved about Satch.

“Damn, Commander, You’re not going to effing believe this!” Sally was very direct in her speech.

“Report.”

“Sir, Martha said that she felt something pressing in upon her, something incredibly sad, something powerful…a feeling of loss, of great frustration and pain. She doesn’t know how the hell it came, but she says it did not come from her own feelings, but something outside, possibly emanating from one of the planets. She is resting now, and Satchewon says that what he gave her will keep her out for a while. Sir, she was horrified! She kept repeating, “This cannot happen!!”

“You are telling us that Martha really believes that she has been what, a recipient of emotions being sent by way of telepathy?”

“Sir, she has no doubt about it.”

As I say, Martha is sensitive. There have also been three documented occasions in her life where she made decisions based upon a sixth sense that ended up saving missions and lives, so I could not immediately discount the idea that she was responding not to a nightmare, but to some external condition or other; She is sensitive yes, but she is not hysterical.

We docketed the report, and Sam read me up on some doings on the planets, whose communications he monitored constantly, and we returned to what was left of our sleep cycle.

The next night, at about 0300, we suddenly, all 5 of us, turned up in the kitchen at the same time! From our discussion we realized that all of us had sudden feelings of unease, which sent us out of our beds to gather simultaneously. “This is too weird,” said Sam. “One or other of us might go get a snack, or be restless, but all of us?” This seemed to corroborate the opinion stated from the earlier incident that some alien agency was trying to reach out to us… But why, and from where?

The next day we speculated on that. We knew enough about the 6 worlds to know from where it was least likely to emanate. For instance, one world, which the computer called “Void”, had no living beings there normally, although there was a meeting place there, maintained for the 7 year elections and other important meetings of the planets. The planet that the computer called “Float” seemed to be full of happy beings who floated on thermal currents as the land masses around them shifted positions. The planet that the computer named “Primate” consisted of a great jungle, where ape-like beings lived in trees and held great philosophical conversations hanging by their tails, dressed in clothes similar to Earth’s medieval period, some standing right side up and others hanging upside down, to converse…it made no difference to them. They existed on the abundant wildlife, fruit, and other foodstuffs in that habitat. The planet called “Exchange” by the computer was a place where great interplanetary commerce was conducted by beings who shared the greatest number of physical characteristics with people of our own planet. But there was one planet we did not know…and our ideas centered on that one as being the possible source for telepathic communication, if this communication between us was happening at all.

The next night, again at 0300, we were awakened by the sheering sound of twisting metal, and thrown out of our beds. Our vessel had moved! We jumped out of our beds and ran to Control to see that our position had shifted 2.5 clicks from where we had hovered, and that part of our reflective apparatus was torn away, revealing a portion of the wheel for anyone who happened to look at that moment to see!

First things first: we had to turn the ship so that the bad reflector panels could not be viewed from the surfaces of any of the planets. Those moves were calculated and entered into the Computer by Sally, and very soon the exposed portion was concealed. We could fix the damage the next day, but what in all the Galaxy had pulled at the wheel?

Martha spoke up. “It’s them, they are trying to bring us to them. They are in dire need of assistance.”

“Assist them? With what!” piped Sally. “Our mission here is to observe, NOT to get involved! If we help any of them, then dammit, we are involved.

“And what of this vessel if we do not respond? Are we to be torn to shreds by these beings, or shall we just give it up and go home?” asked Sam.

I thought about this for most of the day, while repairs to our reflectors were ongoing. Yes, we are here to observe only; Yes, we have rules absolutely prohibiting us from getting involved. We all knew that to get involved was a technical violation of the parameters of our mission, and that to violate those parameters meant an investigation at the very least, and a court martial at worst. Beyond that, however, and an important consideration, was that we could not break silence in order to communicate with Base for further instructions; those communications may be monitored by one or more of the beings from the planets, and then the mission would have to be aborted. It seemed that we were compromised enough already.

I brought the group together in Operations to give them my opinion and see what theirs may be.

“We have a conundrum,” I said. “We can try to determine where this call for help is coming from and help these beings, in which case we lose our incognito, and break our primary rule. Or, we can admit that contact has happened and abort the mission, returning to Space One for reassignment. We have only our own wits to help us make this decision, as of course we are flying silent due to the clandestine nature of the mission. I am open to suggestions.”

We had a long ranging discussion. Sally believed that we should definitely abort mission and go home; “Dammit, Commander, we can’t do it, it is absolutely wrong, and it will expose us, and it may expose Homeworld as well, and we cannot predict the repercussions of that! You KNOW what we should do; The rules exist for a reason…protection; protection of us, protection against contamination by us of the beings below.”

Martha spoke next: “If we stay and do nothing, I am sure that we will continue to be bombarded by thoughts from these beings. They may destroy our vessel, trying to pull the ring closer to them, or damage it to the point that we cannot return to base. They may, while being unaware of it, damage one or more of us mentally with the intensity of their thoughts. One species out there already knows that we are here, which means that the mission is already compromised. We either help them, and perhaps we can remain incognito to the other planets, or we return to base.”

Sam spoke. “Commander, we are here to observe the Interplanetary election. If we abort mission we have failed to do that. This mission was prepared for and anticipated for many cycles…to determine how 6 planets can assemble to peacefully elect their leaders while on our one planet our elections are brutal and divisive, and peoples ever prepared to go to war over the results. Our planet needs our research to be completed, if it is at all possible, for all of our sakes.”

“We are given an opportunity to help another race of beings. It may be a historical first; If we do not help, then we will bear guilt for the rest of our lives, and miss out on history,” said Satchewon Pillingly. “I would not like to think that my friends are riddled with guilt forever.”

While laughing at Satch over his desire not to see us riddled forever with guilt, we also thought he said something profound: To be part of history, by extending a hand of someone from our Homeworld to help a species half way across the galaxy would be great indeed!

“Pack a picnic, Satch,” I said, “We’re going to them.”

Did we know that this was wrong? Second guessing our primary rule!” Well, in for a penny, in for a pound,“ I thought.

We surmised, by the way the ship had been pulled, that the planet from which the thoughts emanated was one that the Computer later named “Tuber,” because the inhabitants looked more like the earth worms from the Homeworld than anything else in the data banks. We boarded the jumper and flew down to Tuber.

They communicated, mostly through Martha, by telepathy. They were a species that traveled the galaxy with their minds alone. They lived in dark caves, but beams of light shone through small openings in the caves several times a day, which was just enough light to keep the plants growing that provided their sustenance. However, due to geological upheavals, the holes in the cave wall had almost all closed, leaving them in the condition of near starvation. Could we please help them to get the light back into the cave?

We returned, discussed it, and decided to do it. We opened up the laser and created several openings in the cave walls, to admit once again the light that kept these beings alive, after swearing them to absolute secrecy, never to reveal us or our location to anyone.

We received by telepathy the thanks of these beings, and we celebrated with some champagne, also smuggled onto the ring by Pillingly, and a toast to Martha with peppermint schnapps. We were blissfully ignorant at that stage of the consequences that our actions would bring upon us.

We slept peacefully for several days and continuing monitoring the planets. But within the following week, Sam started picking up bits and pieces about what we did from his communications uplinks.

“My God, Tom, this is bad.”

“All right, let’s have it,” I said.

“Our good friends the Tubers are having a field day since we saved them! Instead of being quietly behaved and NOT letting on, they are using their psychic powers to torture Exchange in revenge for something they did to them! How can we keep our participation a secret now, they will certainly go there to retaliate and see the holes we burnt into the tops of those caves. They will wonder how the hell they got there, Tom.”

“Damn those worms!, Once Exchange finds out about our holes, they will be looking for us!"

“That is not all," continued Sam: "Our clandestine search of the historical data bases on the other planets reveals that the Tubers have a history of interfering and irritating every species in the system! They are anathema everywhere...we have become the only best buds with beings that everybody else in the system loves to hate!"

“Super, just wonderful,” I said. "The question is, what can be done except to monitor the situation and keep up our watches? Sam, what the hell have our friends been doing to the neighbors?"

“Oh, well, the short version or the long? Let’s take an example: These thermal beings; You know, they live on pieces of ground that float here and there on thermal currents, and they glide from one piece of land to another on these currents to visit? It is a very peaceful society, no history of ever harming anyone; But the Tubers thought it would be fun to send them thoughts of jumping out when there was no thermal currents to catch them up, and they were lucky if they didn't fall into the fissures and burn to death! Then on the jungle planet, beings swinging through trees here and there on vines and suspending themselves upside down to talk to each other, and the damn Tubers focused mental energy on burning the vines holding them up and sent them plunging through the canopy. Sometimes they caught onto something and survived, other times not so lucky.”

“And they pissed off the Exchange too?”

“Ah, there’s a different story; What we did not know, Commander, was that the Exchange for many cycles provided artificial lights to them in return for technical information gleaned by the Tubers in their years of mental exploration of the galaxy. Exchange was able to get Tubers to go to there to more readily facilitate the conveyance of this information, and about 100 Tubers made the journey. Relations between them and the Exchange were cordial, and that is why this trade of information for energy was successful. But the Exchange also wanted to trade peacefully with the other planets. There were secret meetings where the others made it clear to Exchange that something had to be done to protect them from the mental incursions, and this feeling led to strained relations between Exchange and the others, which in turn limited trade…Sometimes there were embargos, sometimes adverse treaties and terms. Finally, due to an accident, the opportunity came for the Planets to be rid of the Tubers forever, and for Exchange to profit in the process. One day a member of a species called the Swarm, from a planet in a neighboring system, was visiting Exchange on a mission of diplomacy. She took a wrong turn in a corridor at the Main Headquarters while looking for the dining room. She saw platforms with Tubers on them and started to drool…She thought they were lunch! She tasted them, and loved them! She ate several of them before someone stumbled upon the situation and put a stop to it, directing her to the real dining room. The manner of death of these Tubers was hushed up. And the Swarmer left under diplomatic immunity. But she returned to her planet with stories of the incredible delicacy that she ate on Exchange, and the Exchange, ever opportunistic, was ready to capitalize. What would be better and more efficient in solving problems with their other neighbors than to trade this delicacy for the great gems of Swarmer, jewels of great value on many worlds, but on Swarmer as plentiful as drops in the ocean on Homeworld? Swarmer got their delicacy, Exchange got their jewels. The Tubers became complicit in this sacrifice, knowing deep down that the routine of taking away more of their species to Exchange had to do with more than simple research, having experienced telepathically the pain and torment when a Tuber was killed to eat. What could they do? They needed the light to survive, and their other neighbors despised them. The idea came to the Exchange finally to stop putting the lights in the caves when they ran out of power and let all the Tubers die all at once, and trade the whole kit and caboodle for all the gemstones the Swarm could pile up. The telepathic skill of the Tubers could not burn new holes in the rock, and, weakened from malnutrition, they could do nothing to retaliate. In desperation, probably with their last strength, the Tubers reached out and found us, Tom, and we walked right off the cliff. Since our drilling has enabled the Tubers to continue and their strength has returned, they are exacting revenge on the Exchange, who are powerless now to complete the contract with the Swarm, by using their mental powers to confound them, and to create dangers all over Exchange. The Swarm are a highly volatile race that does not like to be denied, and this is a serious problem for everyone, including us, more than likely.”

Indeed, the Swarm invaded Exchange space in great numbers on highly armed and wickedly fast ships, to take from them by force the price that it fixed upon the value of the lost Tubers. In the chaos that ensued, we were greeted with not the observation of an election, but that of a war! Exchange was far too busy dealing with the Swarm and the mental incursions of Tuber to investigate or discover our role in the business, and so we continued to observe as long as we judged it to be safe; when we finally felt that there was a high probability of our presence being detected, we “folded up our tents” and returned to Space One, to explain to our leaders why, instead of the beneficial information of how a peaceful election was conducted, we brought back the highly detailed account of a serious interplanetary war that we had begun! Those conversations did not go very well; Thus we learned by hard experience that “Rules are there for a reason.”

END