Susannah

Captain’s Log, Stardate 1207.3

I always find it interesting when we have midshipmen on board to see if I can spot potential top officers. As usual, the ones I’ll notice will be the ones who stand out, the best and the worst. With only an assignment to check out Byonvallaria III as a possible colony, training the midshipmen is giving us something worthwhile to do on route.

Salford smirked triumphantly at Chekov as their instructor sent the midshipmen off to their day’s assignments. The burly midshipman was delighted by any chance to denigrate the cadets who stood so much higher than he did in the class list. "I guess Peters’ favoritism isn’t going to get you anywhere on this ship, Chekov."

"What’s that supposed to mean?" Chard demanded angrily, his green eyes gleaming. He knew Salford’s agenda only too well, but how the other cadet could think he still had a chance at the command track mystified him as much as the rest of the class. "Lieutenant Peters told us we’d be assigned to different departments."

"But some of us have proved we don’t have what it takes to stand a bridge watch," Salford sneered. Their evaluations this year would determine the tracks they would follow for the rest of their training. He had spent most of it trying to understand why the instructors did not consider him the top cadet of his class. "You’ve had a couple of chances on the bridge, Chekov, and shown you don’t have what it takes. That’s why Peters has assigned you to the science labs now."

"So you think a science officer is inferior to a bridge officer, Midshipman Salford?" The midshipmen turned in response to the quiet question to find Captain Orford studying them. Behind the tall grey-haired captain of the Lexington, Lieutenant Peters assessed the younger boy’s expression. Chekov had not looked anything but pleased when he had detailed their assignments for today; to the Academy instructor’s relief Chekov only looked scornful. 

"Of course, sir," Salford answered, with his usual abundant self-confidence. "Bridge officers are far more important than any science officer could possibly be. Science is one of the places where Starfleet stick the officers who don’t have what it takes to command."

Orford looked at the younger boy. "You don’t appear to be unduly crushed by your inferior assignment, Midshipman Chekov?"

"Of course not, Captain. There’s nothing inferior about being a science officer. Bridge officers are important in one way, science officers in another. I’m hoping Starfleet allows me to follow both the command and science tracks, but I don’t think of either as superior to the other. I’m hoping to specialize in the triple fields of exobiology, exozoology and exobotany." Chekov eyed the captain demurely. "Just as you did, when you were a science officer, sir."

"I will, sir," Chekov assured him.

"You certainly know how to make an impression on senior officers, Midshipman Salford." Peters shook his head in disbelief, but he had no intention of taking the matter further. Salford seemed to think the fact he towered over most of his class actually counted for something; as one of the smallest instructors, Peters had long since learned how irrelevant size was. "Get to your duty stations, Midshipmen."

"Aye, sir."

*****

Orford smiled at the blonde officer as he considered for a moment. Taking untried cadets only added to the risk for everyone, but he trusted Balhami’s judgment. "Commander Wychwood, you’re leading the landing party. What do you think?" 

Wychwood, the English first officer, turned to Peters. "The scans showed an abundance of vegetation but a limited number of lifeforms. I’m prepared to take them if you think they’re up to it, Lieutenant?"

Peters nodded. "They’ll be fine working as science officers, sir." 

*****

Peters eyed his expectant cadets as they waited for their orders. The Lexington had gone into standard orbit above Byonvallaria III during the third watch. None of them had expected to be involved in the landing parties, but they were all looking excited at the thought of orbiting an unknown planet even though Byonvallaria III was a Class M planet safely within Federation space. 

"Midshipmen Chard and Chekov, report to the transporter room in thirty minutes with tricorders and phasers. You’ve been assigned to a landing party on Byonvallaria Three."

"Aye, sir!" the two cadets responded in unison before exchanging delighted looks.

"Midshipman Chekov?"

Chekov turned. "Yes, sir?"

Peters closed his eyes for a moment as he thought of the predicaments Chekov had managed to find himself in. The other midshipmen grinned at his expression. "As far as we know, Midshipman Chekov, there is nothing untoward down there. Please, let’s keep it that way!"

Chekov could not decide whether that was an order or not. "I’ll do my best, sir."

*****

"Chekov, I can’t believe they’re letting us on a landing party," Chard breathed as they entered the turbolift.

"Nor me." Chekov felt his excitement spiral until he could barely contain it. This was why he wanted to join Starfleet and what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. He had expected only to look at Byonvallaria III from the viewscreen. The most he had hoped for was that with the ship in orbit, he might be allowed to take the navigator’s station.

Greatly to their surprise, the two midshipmen found not only the officers detailed for the landing party in the transporter room but also the captain. Orford took one look at them and grinned. "Relax, boys."

"It’s just we never expected to go on a landing party, Captain," Chekov tried to steady his voice. 

"Just make sure you thank me by coming back in one piece, both of you," Orford instructed. "Carry on, Mister Wychwood."

Linda Balhami smiled at the two excited midshipmen. "All I’m asking of you initially is that you use your tricorders to scan the area. Do that until I or Lieutenant Unst tell you to do something else. Anything unusual, tell us. Anything you don’t understand, ask about. Don’t worry about sounding silly or stupid. We don’t expect you to know very much for obvious reasons, and we’d much rather you asked. Clear?"

"Yes, ma’am," the pair answered in unison.

Wychwood smiled. "Places everyone. Chekov, Chard, remember not to move until you’ve assessed your surroundings." He glanced at his team and then nodded to the transporter operator. "Energize."

*****

As the transporter beam faded, Chekov found himself for the first time in his life standing on an unexplored alien planet. He exchanged another delighted look with Chard before training took over, and he assessed his immediate surroundings as he had been taught to do. Both boys were oblivious to the fact they were under the observation of the three officers who had beamed down with them as Wychwood, Unst and Balhami divided their attention between their surroundings and their midshipmen. 

As Balhami took Chard off to explore, Chekov took up position with the dark-skinned Unst. She smiled at her own charge. "So, first impressions?"

Chekov turned from his survey of the clearing and gestured to the caterpillars; they were quite as long as a Human body, and he could only wonder that if their internal structure was similar to that of an Earth caterpillar. "Those creatures don’t look as if they can move any faster than Earth caterpillars, ma’am, so either they don’t have any predators or they’re so poisonous nothing will touch them. Judging by their vivid coloring, I’d incline to the latter. That might mean they could pose a risk to us, too."

"So?"

"So we stay well away from them until we know, one way or the other. They’re not reacting to us so they might not be intelligent, ma’am." Chekov looked at her enquiringly as he wondered how much detail Unst wanted. This was more an assessment of him than the planet.

"You’re not ruling that out?" Unst smiled at the qualifier.

"I’m not ruling out the fact they might be intelligent, ma’am. I’m just saying they’re not doing anything to indicate it." 

"This is a beautiful world, if this area is anything to go by." The midshipman considered the lieutenant’s second question. "I think it’s how alien it smells, ma’am."

Unst’s beautiful face lit. "That’s what I enjoy most about going back to Earth. Smelling all the things I’ve missed. Right, Midshipman, Commander Balhami is studying the lifeforms so begin scanning the vegetation first. Look for anything that’s going to pose a problem."

"Aye, ma’am." Chekov began to work and soon lost himself in the readings his tricorder was giving him, as much in fascination at the device as what it was telling him. He had been trained to use one, but they had been cautioned that it took some time to become fully competent with the instrument because it was so versatile; Chekov had learned that over the past months, and he had worked hard at improving his skills. He looked up as the lieutenant spoke. "Ma’am?"

"That is the second time I’ve spoken to you, Midshipman." Unst eyed him severely. "You must not allow your fascination with your work to reduce your alertness. Remember we still know nothing at all about the lifeforms on this world. A moment’s inattentiveness could get you or someone else killed."

Chekov flushed in embarrassment. "I beg your pardon, ma’am. I won’t do it again."

"I’m sure you won’t. Let’s move over there."

Chekov began to reply, only to scream as sheer terror seared through him. He had been frightened before. Now Chekov found out that had only been a mild twinge of unease in comparison to this. Waves of terrible fear swamped him, and he clutched Unst’s arm, unaware everyone in the clearing was staring at him as he yelled at her, "Get back to the ship! We’ve got to get back to the ship now! It’s too dangerous to stay here! We’ve got to get back to the ship quickly!"

"Chekov, what’s wrong?" Unst reached out to reassure him only to find herself staggering back as Chekov’s free hand struck out at her.

Henry Wychwood was already moving towards them. He did not yet know what had so panicked the cadet, but as he saw Unst fall, he was sure the boy was far beyond the reach of reason for the moment. "Midshipman! Report!"

"Get us off the planet!" Chekov screamed at him, his eyes wide with terror. "Get us off the planet!"

*****

As the landing party materialized in the transporter room Chekov collapsed on the platform. Chard bent instinctively over his friend, only to find himself pulled sharply back by the first officer. To Chard’s astonishment, Wychwood had his phaser out and leveled it toward the younger boy. Without taking his eyes from the shaking midshipman sprawled on the transporter platform the first officer ordered everyone else off. "Lieutenant, get medical and security down here now! Then, inform the captain what happened, and that I’m checking out the possibility Midshipman Chekov may be under an alien influence."

"But Chekov wouldn’t do anything to harm us or the Lexington, Commander," Chard protested. He had watched his friend strike two officers with a terror that almost equaled Chekov’s; there was nothing that could excuse such behavior. It would not matter how brilliant his friend was or how good his record was; unless Wychwood was right, Chekov would be lucky if he was only expelled.

Balhami pulled him back. "Boy might not have a choice, Chard. Keep back out of the way until we have some idea of what’s going on here." 

She held firmly onto the older midshipman to make sure he obeyed. Linda Balhami found herself hoping fervently her first officer was correct and that an alien influence was responsible for the younger boy’s behavior. Just working with Chekov for a few days had shown the science officer he was one of the more brilliant cadets the Academy attracted; she knew she would find it hard to forgive herself if taking him on a landing party before he was ready had destroyed any chance he had of a Starfleet career.

Chekov was pushing himself groggily into a sitting position. He eyed Wychwood’s leveled phaser uncertainly. "Sir?"

"Stay where you are and stay silent," Wychwood ordered as two guards entered, their eyes widening in surprise as they took in the scene in the transporter room. He gestured to the young midshipman. "If Midshipman Chekov makes one move without orders, stun him."

"Aye, sir." The two guards separated and moved to where they each had a clear shot. Chekov watched. His head was still spinning, and he felt physically sick with the memory of that terrible fear. A quite different fear replaced it more quickly than he had anticipated; if he had panicked so badly on a routine landing party, Starfleet would never allow him to continue at the Academy. Next to Balhami he could see a frightened Chard watching him. Unst stood on the other side of his friend, her expression puzzled as she studied him, too.

Doctor Goathland rushed in, medical kit in hand, and a little out of breath. As his fellow officers pointed out, the stout doctor tended to ignore his own strictures about regular exercise. "What happened?"

"Chekov panicked for absolutely no reason," Wychwood stated. "He lost all control, and I want to know if anything is affecting him." As the doctor started to scan the young midshipman, Wychwood looked at the opening door in disapproval. "Captain, I’d really rather you didn’t come in here until we’ve some idea of what happened."

"Too late, Commander," Orford answered easily as he strode in to the transporter room with the air of a man who intended to know what was going on on his ship. "What happened?" 

He frowned as his first officer finished his brief account. "That doesn’t match with what I know of Midshipman Chekov. His record so far says he wouldn’t have panicked if something had gone wrong, and from what you’ve just told me, there was nothing for him to be scared of!"

"That’s what made me think of an alien influence so quickly, Captain. I might have overreacted, but until we have some idea of why Chekov reacted so strongly, I wanted us all off that planet."

Orford nodded. "Doctor?"

"All I can find is evidence of shock. That’s what I’d expect in anyone as scared as Commander Wychwood described." Goathland studied his young patient. "How do you feel, son?"

Chekov looked questioningly at Wychwood, who grinned. "Sorry, Midshipman, but I wasn’t about to take any chances. Starfleet has had some pretty nasty encounters with hostile telepathic aliens before now. Go ahead."

"I feel fine," Chekov assured the doctor. "Perhaps a little shaky, that’s all. What exactly happened?"

"What’s the last thing you remember?" Goathland asked. The answer had been calm enough, but the doctor wanted some answers of his own. An alien influence could be harmful in more ways than one; it was a possibility that haunted most Starfleet doctors in the small hours of a sleepless night.

"Being more scared than I ever thought it was possible to be, but I don’t know why," Chekov answered, "because there was nothing to frighten me. Commander Wychwood’s right about that. The only lifeforms we’d seen were giant caterpillars and butterflies, and they ignored us." 

The midshipman considered and added, "I don’t want to sound conceited, Captain, but when I’m scared I don’t act in that way. I don’t stop thinking. This time I couldn’t. I couldn’t think of anything but getting off that planet as quickly as possible."

"No," Unst corrected. "You weren’t just determined to get yourself off that planet, Midshipman, which is what I’d expect from someone as panicked as you were. You insisted we all had to get back to the ship. You became really frantic when we tried to ask you why instead of returning to the ship."

"Did I?" Chekov shook his head. "I don’t remember that, ma’am."

"Your mind feels normal, Midshipman Chekov?" the doctor pursued. 

"Yes, sir. When I sat up I felt groggy for a few seconds, but my mind is clear enough now." The others in the room could see the anxiety in the dark eyes, but none of them made the mistake of thinking the cadet was really worried about the possibility of his mind being taken over by an alien. What concerned Chekov was the report that would be going back to the Academy about this.

"Not that I remember, sir," Chekov answered honestly.

"That’s it!" Unst’s exclamation drew everyone’s eyes, and she elaborated, "I knew something didn’t make sense, and that’s it. If you were an alien telepath, why pick on the mind of someone who has no authority to give anyone on the team any orders? Chekov didn’t even have the power to order us all back to the ship."

Wychwood nodded. "I’d have been a much better choice."

Everyone’s eyes turned back to the midshipman as they considered that. Orford spoke for the others. "So, why pick on you, Midshipman?" 

He looked at the two security guards. "Keep an eye on Midshipman Chekov. Stun him if he tries to run, but I propose we continue this discussion in the briefing room, once you’ve all had mandatory checks. Midshipman Chekov is the only one sitting down, and he doesn’t look very comfortable. I think we’ll have Lieutenant Peters in on this, too."

Chard moved quickly over to help his friend up before anyone could countermand him. "Are you sure you’re all right, Chekov?"

Chekov nodded as he began to recover some of his composure. The officers of the Lexington seemed quite convinced an alien influence was behind that moment of utter panic, and if that was true, no one would blame him. He wondered if he would ever be that scared again; he hoped not.

*****

Orford gestured everyone to chairs. "Let’s have some coffee. Midshipman Chard, see to it."

"Aye, sir." Chard moved towards the replicator only to be stopped by Wychwood’s raised hand.

"Even with the possibility of Midshipman Chekov being taken over by a hostile telepathic alien, I am not prepared to drink coffee!" The English first officer directed a reproachful look at his captain. He had been the first officer of the Lexington for two years now, and Orford was still inclined to forget his dislike of coffee when things became tense. "Tea, milk, no sugar, please, Midshipman. The captain and Commander Balhami prefer their coffee black. Ensign? You’re the only one without a preference."

Orford had appreciated the chance to think for a few moments, too. He had read his science officer’s expression easily enough as she talked to Peters. Orford knew he would also find it hard to forgive himself if this ended any chance Chekov had of a Starfleet career. He watched the young midshipman take a sip of the Russian tea Chard had given him without needing to ask what his friend wanted. "Midshipman Chekov, it would be a good idea if you described everything that happened from the moment you beamed down. It will give the people who were with you the chance to detect anything out of the ordinary, and it will tell Lieutenant Peters and me exactly what was going on."

"Include exactly how you were feeling too," the doctor added.

"Aye, sir." Chekov took another sip of tea. "I was excited about the chance to explore an alien planet even before we beamed down. It was even more exciting actually being on the surface."

"You weren’t scared then?" Goathland asked.

"No, sir. I knew things might go wrong, of course, but it was all so peaceful. In fact," Chekov blushed. "I was so engrossed in what I was doing Lieutenant Unst, had to speak to me twice before she attracted my attention. She reminded me then not to assume the planet was safe."

"Did that annoy you?" Goathland enquired.

Chekov shook his head. "No, Doctor. I should have remained alert, and Ensign Unst was quite right to tell me."

"I did wonder if you’d taken that as more of a reprimand than I’d meant," Unst put in. "Lieutenant Peters has commented on how much you hate not doing as well as you expect."

"I don’t like making mistakes, but no, I didn’t, ma’am," Chekov agreed readily. "I know enough to know you might have saved my life by that reminder so, in answer to the doctor’s question, I wasn’t annoyed."

"You certainly weren’t frightened then," Unst nodded. "I was actually looking at you, and you went in a split second from being, as you described, a young midshipman excited at being on an alien planet to someone too terrified to think and for absolutely no reason."

"So," Orford was still studying the midshipman. He appreciated the honesty of the boy’s replies. "What scared you so much, Midshipman, and why? Why you? You don’t have any telepathic abilities do you?"

"No, sir," Chekov assured him. 

"Does the thought of a telepathic contact scare you, Chekov?" Unst asked, with her usual encouraging smile.

"I don’t think a friendly one would scare me, ma’am," the cadet answered.

"So, who or what chose to frighten you so much when all you were doing was standing in the middle of a clearing scanning it with a tricorder?" Orford asked.

"And why pick on one of the only two people who not only couldn’t order an immediate beam up but also one of the only two whose fears might not be taken seriously by the rest of us?" Wychwood added another question. "If Commander Balhami or Lieutenant Unst had told me we ought to beam up immediately I’d have complied and asked why later. If Chekov or Chard had told me the same thing we’d all have checked out their readings first because they don’t have the training or experience yet to assess a risk."

"So," the doctor commented thoughtfully, "if something on that planet was reading your minds perhaps it was what you were thinking that’s the key, Midshipman Chekov?"

"I was thinking how lucky the colonists would be who were given such a beautiful world, sir, and I was visualizing farms and people growing crops," Chekov answered promptly. 

"But," Chard reddened as the eyes turned to him but continued, "That’s what I was thinking!"

"So was I," the first officer nodded. "Perhaps not at that precise second, but I’ve surveyed a number of worlds that have later been granted to colonists, and Byonvallaria Three is one of the most beautiful."

"I thought that," Unst added, her comment echoed by the science officer.

"I can understand why someone might have objected to the thoughts of their world being taken over," Orford sighed. "That still leaves us the same question. Why you, Midshipman?"

"Just a moment, Captain," Wychwood said, his eyes alight. "If the question is ‘why Midshipman Chekov?’ perhaps the answer is that he was the only one thinking about a colony at the precise moment someone started reading our minds. I know I wasn’t, not at that moment." He looked around his team. Within moments, they had all assured him that at the time Chekov panicked, they had all been thinking about another aspect of their work.

Chekov heaved a sigh of utter relief. With the knowledge that the officers around the table were certain an alien influence had been responsible for his behavior, he was too close to euphoric to care very much. Whatever happened as the result of this, it would not get him thrown out of the Academy as a coward, and Chekov found it hard to care about much else.

"I agree, Midshipman Chekov is the only person whatever lifeform is down there has contacted. He perhaps has the best chance of being contacted again, at least initially. Midshipman, are you prepared to beam back to that planet?"

"Yes, sir."

"Take a moment to think about that," the captain suggested, smiling at the prompt response. "We’ve no idea what will happen."

"I know things could go really wrong, Captain, but I’m still volunteering to go back because if I don’t, then I’m going to spend the rest of my life wondering what would have happened if I had."

Wychwood grinned. "That’s as good a reason as any for a Starfleet officer to go!"

*****

Wychwood eyed the younger of the two cadets. "Midshipman Chekov, calm down. Places everyone. Midshipman Chard, where do you think you’re going?"

"I’m assigned to the landing party for Byonvallaria Three, sir." Chard eyed him hopefully. He had no idea what his chances were of getting away with this, but he thought it was worth a try. He wanted to know what his friend was facing. 

The first officer waited for the acknowledgements before smiling encouragingly at the cadet. "Midshipman Chekov, if the aliens do make contact with you, if you can, relay the conversation aloud so the rest of us have some idea what’s going on."

"Aye, sir."

"Good luck." Wychwood nodded to the transporter operator. "Energize."

*****

The landing party materialized in the same clearing as before. Both the caterpillars and the butterflies had vanished. The depredations the caterpillars had wrought on the plants accounted for their absence; there was very little left to provide evidence any plants had ever existed. 

Chekov was barely aware of his surroundings. He knew he could trust the others in the landing party to watch for any threats. He concentrated on thinking as clearly and strongly as possible that Starfleet explored the galaxy with the aim of making friendly contact with other intelligent races.

"These are the aliens?" Balhami gazed at the insectoids in complete astonishment. "What a discovery it would be if they are! They’ll be the most beautiful intelligent lifeform in the galaxy."

"Chekov, one’s heading straight towards you," Wychwood warned.

The midshipman opened his eyes to see how close the butterfly was, its wings an intricate pattern of gold, green and blue. As he realized its intentions, he braced himself to take the weight, but as it settled, Chekov found that it weighed only as much as one of his grandmother’s cats. The two front legs clung to his shoulder, and he could feel the others attached to his shirt.

The rest of the landing party watched, their wariness back with full force. The aliens had shown once before how strongly they could affect the young midshipman’s mind and that had been from a distance; now the alien was in actual physical contact with him and the rest of the Starfleet personnel had to wonder at its motives. 

Chekov stared at it in wonder before he turned to Wychwood, glowing with excitement. "Sir, I can talk to her! Her name is B’Then." He reached up with one careful finger to stroke the delicate antenna before adding softly, "B’Then says no one else has ever told her she is beautiful."

"Midshipman, do these people have a name for themselves?" Wychwood asked. One huge fear had lifted from him as the midshipman spoke. They could not leave these people believing their planet was about to be taken over by colonists who would change it forever. The first officer had still worried over the inexperience of the only person with whom the aliens had made contact. He remembered his own mistakes as a cadet. The thought of being killed or seriously injured had never really entered his mind.

"B’Then says until we came they had never thought any other intelligent lifeforms could exist, let alone such enormous solid ones. It’s even harder for her to accept that anyone could endure to live without flight. She says the time they must spend earthbound and mindless is called the ‘unthinkable time’ as it is so dreadful. B’Then wants to know if we’ve chosen to sail through space in our great ships because we can’t fly through the skies of our own world?"

"B’Then says they have not needed a name for themselves, but she can understand why they will need one now." He looked at the first officer. "She’s read from my mind about all the different intelligent lifeforms in the Federation, sir, and B’Then says they would like to be called Byonvallarians." 

The midshipman’s eyes closed again in concentration for several minutes as the others watched. At last, Chekov’s eyes opened at the same time as B’Then and the rest of her people fluttered away. 

"They need to feed before dark, sir," the cadet explained, as he staggered from sheer weariness. Wychwood caught his arm and supported him, his expression concerned. "B’Then knew I was getting tired, but she wants to talk again tomorrow. She also wants me to speak to the captain for her."

"Wychwood to Lexington. Beam up the landing party."

*****

"Commander Balhami, I refuse to wait another minute. Please show us what happened this afternoon."

"Of course, Captain." Linda Balhami activated the large screen and showed the landing party in the Byonvallarian clearing. Chekov’s concentration was clear enough, and she explained the orders the midshipman had been trying to follow. Gasps sounded from around the table as the huge butterflies appeared. The personnel in the room listened to the conversation in the silence of utter fascination.

"Midshipman, what is it you need to tell me?" Orford was pleased to see some of the boy’s exhaustion had vanished now he had a good meal inside him.

"When we made the second contact, sir, B’Then could read everything in my mind. I didn’t try to block her access. I thought that might stop her trusting me if she thought I was trying to hide something, and I don’t know any sensitive information. The Byonvallarians know about other worlds. Even though they’d decided other intelligent species couldn’t exist, they’d at least thought about them, and they accepted us easily enough so I knew some parts of the Prime Directive didn’t apply." 

"We didn’t get as far as that, but you’re right, Midshipman, and the Prime Directive has to be applied differently to telepathic races." 

"B’Then and her people approve very highly of the Prime Directive and of the principles of the Federation, Captain, so much so they want to join," Chekov went on. 

Orford blinked. He had not expected that particular complication to raise its head quite so soon. The Byonvallarians might know about other worlds, but there were no signs their civilization was of a level that would qualify for them for Federation membership, and he proceeded to say so. Chekov did not look surprised. 

"B’Then told me they need nothing machines or buildings could provide, Captain, so they’ve never bothered trying to develop them. They do have one qualification she told me about; the Byonvallarians live in peace together, and they’ve never had wars." The young midshipman’s expression became troubled. "Captain, B’Then also read about Klingons, Romulans and Orions in my mind, and they did frighten her. I could tell her it was very unlikely Romulans would ever come here, but I couldn’t promise Klingons or Orions wouldn’t, and her people wouldn’t have any defenses at all against them. Even if the Federation decides Byonvallaria Three doesn’t qualify for membership, she wants the planet to become a protectorate, and B’Then and some of her people want to come back to Earth with us and speak to the Federation Council themselves."

Orford saw the amused gazes of his officers. "You’re asking me to fill my ship with giant butterflies, Midshipman?"

The midshipman managed to suppress the grin that was trying to form. "Yes, sir. If you did, I’d be more than willing to look after them."

"Assuming they don’t manage to make contact with anyone else that is," Balhami put in. 

"They aren’t going to try, ma’am. B’Then understood how much the contact tired me, and she won’t inflict that on anyone else. She wants to wait and try with Vulcans, for example."

"I have to ask you to make further contact then," Orford decided. "We do need to find out more about the Byonvallarians before we risk taking them aboard. So, Midshipman, since the onus of that contact tomorrow and perhaps the remainder is going to rest on you, go and get some sleep."

*****

Thomas Orford looked around the briefing room. "Opinions on the reliability of what Midshipman Chekov’s told us? I don’t doubt his honesty for a moment, but he’s only repeating what he was told, and we won’t be able to judge that against an experienced officer’s report."

"Given time, I’ve no doubt we can persuade the Byonvallarians to use another method of communication, Captain," Unst said, as she considered that part of their problem. "After all, this is the first time they’ve faced the problem of communicating with a non-telepathic race. We’ve managed to set up alternative methods with every other telepathic race. Even if we can’t, the Vulcans will surely be able to make contact."

"At least the Orions would leave them alive," Balhami snorted. "Klingons would just exterminate them. You know how they feel about non-Humanoids."

Goathland nodded. "B’Then seems to have searched young Chekov’s mind for the best ways of protecting her people, and I won’t fault her for that. I was scanning him throughout the contact, and the only ill effect was from exhaustion. I believe him when he says she’s genuinely sorry for scaring him the way she did."

Wychwood agreed. "I really do think the Byonvallarians want a friendly contact, Captain. Now they know everything that was in Chekov’s mind about the Federation and Starfleet, not to mention the more unpleasant types who inhabit the galaxy, I don’t see how we can just leave them to worry about who might arrive next."

"If the Byonvallarians really have scanned Chekov’s entire memory, they know a great deal about us. I don’t see we can make matters much worse by allowing more contact."

"I’m inclined to agree, Commander." Orford leaned back with a sigh. "I just don’t like putting all this pressure on a middy."

*****

The landing party materialized in the same clearing, but this time the trees around the site were already filled with the graceful forms of the Byonvallarians. B’Then fluttered down to land on Chekov’s shoulder, and they went into silent communication for several minutes as he related to her what had happened when they beamed back the day before.

"Yes and no, ma’am," Chekov answered. "I was just asking B’Then about that. The closest we can get is that it’s due to the dreams they have as a chrysalis. Byonvallarians aren’t intelligent when they’re in the larval stage; they’re basically just eating machines, in the same way as Earth caterpillars. The adults keep an eye on them, but there aren’t any predators here so they don’t need much care. After the seventh molt, they turn into a chrysalis for a quarter of Byonvallaria Three’s year. 

"B’Then has read in my mind of the type of home and civilization that Humans have, but she says they don’t need anything like that. For obvious reasons they don’t need any form of infrastructure to allow them to travel, and that means the civilization is spread over the whole planet, and they’re not territorial. She also says they don’t need shelters as the climate is so mild. The adults all feed on nectar and caterpillars eat several food plants that are all very plentiful so they don’t need farming. That means a lot of what we think of as necessary to civilization they neither need nor want.

*****

"Midshipman Chekov? What’s wrong?" Wychwood asked, as the midshipman’s expression changed. This was only the third landing party, and he was still braced for possible complications.

Chekov reached up to gently stroke an antenna. "I suppose B’Then and the others are only being practical, sir, but they’ve just told me they want to bring some chrysalises along too, in case anything happens to some of them. They trust Starfleet to take good care of them, but since they’ve never been on another planet they don’t know what will happen. I just hated the thought of any of them being hurt."

"I suppose that makes sense, Midshipman." Wychwood repressed the urge to sigh as another responsibility landed on them. He was already worried enough at the thought of taking such fragile creatures to Earth. "Tell them we’re willing, but we need to know of any specific requirements the chrysalises will need."

"Aye, sir." The midshipman consulted his companion. 

"B’Then says the chrysalises need to be hung from trees and sprayed with lukewarm water, sir, but she’ll be able to tell us when and at what temperature they need to be kept," the midshipman reported. "As for the adult Byonvallarians, all they will need will be perches, water and nectar. B’Then wants Commander Balhami and me to come with her, sir, so she can show us some of the flowers on which they feed. I told her we’d need to make a careful analysis of the nectar to be sure we could match it. B’Then says there are plenty of the right sort of flowers around us."

"I’d like to see a chrysalis too, Midshipman," Balhami added. "To give us some idea of what we need to provide for them."

Chekov consulted B’Then once more. "She says the nearest are a short distance away, even for people who can’t fly. We’ll have to walk, ma’am. B’Then and I can’t agree on linear measurements. I think it’s something to do with the way they don’t like thinking of the time they have to spend planet-bound and mindless."

"That sounds reasonable, Midshipman," Balhami said and looked enquiringly at the first officer.

"We’ll all go on this little expedition. I’d like to see more of Byonvallaria Three than this clearing," Wychwood announced.

It was a pleasant walk through woods filled with a sunlight that was close enough to Earth’s to seem homelike. As far as the personnel from the Lexington were concerned it ended all too soon as another glade revealed a number of enormous chrysalises hanging from the branches of the trees. Despite the fact they were even larger than the caterpillars which had formed them, they bore a remarkable resemblance to ones that would be found on Earth, with the shapes of wings and bodies clearly identifiable within the hard outer shell.

"B’Then says these are hers, sir," Chekov paused for a moment. "Not from her eggs. Byonvallarians don’t care for their own eggs, but they’re assigned so many caterpillars to watch over and then chrysalises to nurture. That’s another reason why she wants to take them with her." He looked at the second butterfly that had chosen to accompany them. "G’Thar as a male doesn’t have the same level of responsibility and he’s regarded as more expendable anyway. He’s quite happy to take the risk of coming with us just for the chance of doing something as exciting as visiting another planet."

"You’re worried about the transporter effect, sir?" Linda Balhami nodded. "I was starting to wonder about that myself."

"I think we’ll employ a shuttle for the chrysalises, just to be on the safe side," Wychwood said. "So we might as well use it for the adults, too."

"B’Then thanks you for your consideration, sir." Chekov was barely aware he was interrupting the first officer. "She thinks your idea will be much safer."

*****

"I think you’ve really got somewhere this time, ma’am," Chekov told Unst enthusiastically as they headed towards the wardroom for dinner.

The Lexington was due to reach Spacedock in three hours where Starfleet had a Vulcan science team waiting. The Byonvallarians had settled comfortably into life on a starship, somewhat to everyone’s surprise. The four adults had been so fascinated by the Humans aboard that the trees on which they perched had been quickly moved from the ‘park’ to the rec deck so the delicate aliens could observe as many members of the crew as they wished.

"I hope so, but your idea might prove even better. Good evening, Captain."

"Good evening, Ensign." Orford eyed the young midshipman. "What idea would that be, Midshipman?"

"I know how concerned you are about the fragility of the Byonvallarians, sir, so I wondered if we could ask the Tropaeolumi for help?" Chekov explained. "They’d make certain no harm came to the Byonvallarians. They could offer safe perches, and they’d be able to move to wherever the Byonvallarians needed to be."

Orford was completely taken aback by the suggestion, but as he thought of the tree-like aliens, he could see its merits. "That would be ideal, if the Tropaeolumi agreed. How would we broach it, without offending them?"

"I think I could ask, sir."

"You could? I know you helped with establishing good relations a decade ago. I’ve heard Commander Wychwood on the subject of small boys who get involved in tricky negotiations with aliens and show Starfleet how to do it."

The midshipman blushed, despite the fact it was a memory he cherished. "It’s more than that, Captain. Ambassador Ttchcht sponsored my application to the Academy so I went to thank it and tell it I’d been accepted. It told me it hadn’t felt able to keep in contact with me before, as my parents are opposed to Starfleet, but it asked me to write once I started at the Academy. We’ve been exchanging letters ever since. Ambassador Ttchcht is very interested in what I do. It might refuse, but I don’t think it will be offended if I ask. It did tell me I could ask it for help if I needed any."

"Then we’ll beam you down and find out."

*****

As Chekov entered the large garden that formed the Tropaeolumi Embassy that adjoined the Vulcan Embassy, a tentacle waved in greeting. "I am pleased to see you, Pasha. Did you enjoy your training cruise?"

"Tremendously, Mister Ambassador. I’ve made a first contact!" Chekov told it. 

"I can imagine how exciting that was. With whom?"

"That’s why I’m here, sir. I’ve come to ask for help, at least to ask you if some of the Saplings could help." Chekov explained what had happened and why the fragile aliens had come to Earth. He did not expect the ambassador to come, but Tropaeolumi Saplings were a different matter. It took seventy years for a Tropaeolumi to grow to maturity and the Saplings were on Earth to continue their education.

"How precisely do you wish the Saplings to help, Pasha?" 

"When we were discussing the best way to keep the Byonvallarians from being injured, I thought if the Saplings were willing, they could provide the perches the Byonvallarians will need. They’d be much better than ordinary trees because they’ll be able to move with the Byonvallarians wherever they need to go. The Byonvallarians should feel a lot safer, much safer than they’d feel with non-intelligent perches, even if they can’t communicate directly."

"They think it’s a good idea, but they’re worried about offending you. As you told me to ask for help, I thought you’d just say no if you didn’t want the Saplings to do it."

A tentacle patted him approvingly. "We will help, but I am coming, too. I am curious to see these beings."

Chekov pulled out his communicator. "Chekov to Lexington."

"Lexington here," Orford’s voice answered. "How are you getting on, Midshipman?"

"Ambassador Ttchcht has agreed, Captain, but it’s coming, too. It says it is curious." 

The voice on the communicator gave a distinct sigh. "That would be coming as in ‘full dress uniforms and an honor guard’, Midshipman?"

"Yes, sir."

"We’ll need a couple of minutes, lad. Keep talking down there. Lexington out."

*****

"Welcome to the Lexington, Mister Ambassador." Orford stepped forward as the honor guard snapped to attention. "We’re very grateful you, and the Saplings agreed to help."

Ttchcht waved away any obligation. "I am looking forward to meeting such delicate beings. It is fascinating to think they have developed both intelligence and a civilization. My own lifeform has an extremely long life span and is hard to destroy. I can understand why you are so anxious to protect this one."

"This way, if you please." Orford had never actually encountered a Tropaeolumi before. With all his years of experience, he reflected, it still felt very odd to be walking along one of the corridors of his ship surrounded by mobile, intelligent trees. It was, he reflected, fortunate the Tropaeolumi only had to bend a little to fit into the starship’s corridors. "Our guests are looking forward to meeting you. Until they encountered us, they weren’t sure other intelligent lifeforms even existed, but they’ve enjoyed being with the crew so much we housed them here on the rec deck."

When B’Then saw Chekov, she fluttered down to meet him. Around the area of the large deck allocated to the delicate aliens stood trees from the exobotanical department; some were hung with the large forms of the remaining chrysalises. 

Two of the Byonvallarians had emerged en route, and the entire crew had heaved a sigh of relief when the emergences had gone without any problems. Goathland had paced the deck throughout, muttering he was a doctor not a lepidopterist. 

The Tropaeolumi climbed into the large pots placed in readiness for them. Once they were settled, Orford nodded to Chekov. "Ask the Byonvallarians to transfer to the Tropaeolumi, please, Midshipman. Mister Ambassador, do you want to take an active part in this or would you prefer to merely observe?"

"I am willing to offer myself as a perch too," Ttchcht assured him. It had been fascinated by what it had heard. "When Pasha went to the Academy I expected only letters, not the chance to become involved in his work."

The Byonvallarians fluttered happily around the new group of aliens for a few moments before settling. They had listened to the plans for involving the Tropaeolumi with interest. One of the Saplings suddenly waved an excited tentacle. "I can speak to the being on me!"

"So can I!"

"And I!"

"And I!"

Ttchcht was flushing the deep green of great excitement. "And I! I thought perhaps the Saplings might make contact, but I never dreamed I could do so myself! This is truly a wonderful experience."

Orford blinked at the unexpected turn of events. "We never hoped for so much success, Mister Ambassador. As you know, only Midshipman Chekov has so far made contact. There aren’t any others of your race on Earth, are there? I know Starfleet would like to find out if this ability extends to all your people."

"There are several Segments of Forest on Earth at various universities," Ttchcht answered a little absently as it listened to the Byonvallarian. "I am sure they would wish to try."

*****

"You’ve agreed to precisely what, Mister Ambassador?" Orford asked. The Vulcan science team had not been needed; the Tropaeolumi were more than ready to speak for the Byonvallarians.

"To share our planets, Captain," Ttchcht answered. "This contact, this meeting of minds is not something any of us could bear to sever. My only regret is that B’Then will not live as long as I will, but I will seek another Companion when she dies. I can assure you that will mean the Byonvallarians will be protected from anyone who might wish them harm."

"I’m certain of that, Mister Ambassador." Orford was. The Tropaeolumi were a very peaceful race, but no one, not even the Klingons, made the mistake of thinking that meant they could not defend themselves. "I’m also sure that you’re the perfect allies for the Byonvallarians as you can share their planet without imposing any infrastructure."

‘I’m very pleased by the way things have worked out for you both." 

"And I have a new Tree for my Forest." Ttchcht curled a tentacle around the startled midshipman. "I could not offer when we met before. When you gave us such help you were only a Sapling yourself, Pasha, but now, after this wonderful thing you have done for us, I make you a Tree of the Blue Mountain Forest."

Stunned, Chekov could only manage, "Thank you."

Somehow, the thought of an alien adoption did not seem at all strange, but he wondered if anyone would be able to tell him quite what it was going to involve. Chekov took his leave of the ambassador, and Captain Orford as he decided thinking about the remainder of the summer assignments due to be posted soon would be simpler.