“So how did they domesticate the molluscoids in the first place?” Ra-Havreii asked. “Without the capacity to confine or handle the animals…”

“It wouldn’t require any technology,” Pazlar countered. “As long as one species could control another’s movements well enough to regulate who they did or didn’t mate with, then selective breeding would be possible.”

“Well, how do you do that without fences or walls?”

“We did it all the time back home. Plenty of Gemworld sports depend on it.”

“So the bottom line,” Troi said, interrupting the building heat between them, “is that the squales are definitely intelligent.”

“I have no doubt of that,” Eviku said. “Not only intelligent, but technological, in a manner of speaking: capable of selectively breeding other life forms to serve as their tools.”

Pazlar sighed and turned to the captain. “And they’re aware of us, sir. Since the bugeye piscoids have been observed calling to the squales, I think it’s a safe bet that they’re like the weather balloons, and probably like those small shelled creatures we’ve seen being carried by pis coids flying overhead. They’re probes, sir. Sensors. And they’ve been hovering around our away teams since day one. The squales may have been keeping their distance, but they’ve been watching our every move down there.”

The room fell silent, except for a hushed “Oh, my God” from Christine Vale.

Finally, Eviku asked, “How does the Prime Directive apply in a case like this? Should we just…leave and hope no real damage is done?”

“They’ve been watching us for the past ten days,” Pazlar said. “We’re not just some sighting they can dismiss as a trick of the mind.”

“But they’re not a technological people,” Vale put in. “Without written records, the knowledge could fade into legend.”

“Don’t count on that,” Ra-Havreii said. “If they’re anything like my people or the Alonis, they may have a means of preserving detailed oral histories and passing them on exactly. Indeed, I’d say they must have such a thing, in order to preserve the complex bioengineering skills they possess.”

“We have no way of knowing how we may have inadvertently affected their society,” Troi said. “We mistakenly breached the Prime Directive, but just pulling out now would be an abrogation of our responsibility. We have to try to make contact, see if there’s a way to mitigate the damage.”

“How do we know it will damage them?” Lavena asked. “If they’ve been watching us so closely, maybe they’re fascinated by us. Maybe they’re eager to learn.”

“Then why have they been so careful to avoid us?” the captain asked gently.

“This is a world without metal, without plastic,” Troi said, both answering and reinforcing her husband’s point. “They’ve never seen anything that isn’t alive. I can hardly imagine how alien we must be to them. There’s no telling what kind of fear or crisis of belief we could provoke. We have to try to establish communication so we can assess the effects of our presence and try to mitigate it.”

“Increase our interference to reduce its effects?” Ra-Havreii asked. “That hardly seems logical.”

“There is precedent,” Troi said. “On Mintaka III, when the presence of Starfleet observers was accidentally exposed to the natives, they reacted badly with a religious fervor that almost became destructive. Since the people had only fragmentary information and no understanding of what it meant, it left them confused and frightened, provoking aggression and intolerance. Captain Picard resolved the situation by making open contact and explaining our true nature. Giving them more information helped them make better decisions about how to cope with this knowledge and incorporate it into their worldview. Once they were back on their own track, of course, we left them alone again.”

“The Prime Directive is about respecting other people’s right to make their own choices,” Riker said. “We try to avoid contact with young societies, not because they’re too fragile to handle it, but because there’s too much temptation for usto try to exploit the situation, to pressure them into believing what we want. But if they find out about us on their own, then if we try to hide or misrepresent ourselves, then that’s exactly what we’re doing: trying to manipulate their way of seeing things to suit our ends.

“Bottom line, we’re already in a first contact situation. It’s no longer a question of whether to communicate with the squales, but how. And as with any first contact, it’s incumbent on us to treat them with honesty, fairness, and respect.”

Vale frowned. “I’d say ‘how’ is the question in a more logistical sense. How do we talk to them when they’ve been avoiding us?”

“We haven’t really been trying to talk to them,” Lavena said. “Just to watch them from afar. Maybe if we let them know we’re interested in talking, they’d respond. After all,” she reminded the others, “they saved my life. They came to help us when we were in danger. I think that says a lot about their attitude toward other life forms.”

Riker pondered her words. “I’d like you to spearhead our efforts, Aili. You’re the one person among us who’s already made some connection with the squales, however tenuous. And you’re the one person who can live the way they do, who’s most familiar to them.”

“I’m glad to try, sir,” Lavena told him. “But…I’m not a trained diplomat. I…” Her eyes went to Troi.

“I’ll assign Counselor Huilan to assist you,” Troi said, looking unhappy. “He doesn’t have much experience as a contact specialist, but…I obviously can’t go down there.”

“Of course not,” Riker said, discreetly touching her hand.

“Umm, Captain?” Lavena said. “If I may…I think it would be a good idea if…if you came down with us.”

He looked surprised. “Why me, Ensign?”

“Well, you are an experienced diplomat…but also, you’re a musician. I figure if we’re going to try to communicate with a species of singers…”