[Snip]

“With the kind of technology and engineering that they have, let’s say we don’t want to make them our enemies,” Captain Glen added. “I’m very concerned that this First Contact goes well, for many different reasons, but including the Bolay incident I’ve mentioned before. This all appears to be going well, I think… but I have no yardstick with which to measure it. It’s so utterly… “alien” to our understanding; this crystalline architecture and harmonic communication. How can we begin to understand the people who built this if we don’t first understand their technology and engineering? That’s like the chicken and egg paradox. As you probably know, I’m an amateur archeologist. The way we would understand ancient civilisations is exactly by an examination of the physical evidence they left behind - evidence such as tool marks, material choices, and waste middens - those reveals their daily lives, social hierarchy, and engineering capabilities. How can we understand the Shiarians first, without first understanding what they built? Usually, this problem would be tackled by finding something that we both have in common. I think that when everything seems so different, we need to look at what things we both share? The most likely candidates for that would be mathematics, organising daily life around shared goals, the need for community rules, trade, and storytelling. Those things seem to be universal.”

John Reeves had remained quiet throughout most of the exchange, his tricorder held loosely in one hand as he continued to monitor the chamber. He had been listening to the conversation between Captain Glen and the other senior officers, particularly the discussion about how Starfleet had interpreted the Shiarians before ever setting foot on Vey’lan.

There was something about the captain’s comparison to archaeology that caught Reeves’ attention. It made sense to him, although perhaps from a somewhat different perspective than the one Glen had intended.

“Captain, if I may,” Reeves said, stepping slightly closer to the group while keeping his attention divided between the Shiarians and the tricorder readings. “I think there is one thing we already have in common with them.”

He paused, considering the wording carefully.

“Rules.”

Reeves glanced toward the surrounding Shiarians.

“We may not understand their laws, traditions, or social structure yet, but they clearly have rules governing how they behave toward one another. We’ve watched them move in perfect synchronization without anyone appearing to give a conventional order. We’ve watched them respond to the elder. We’ve watched the entire chamber react to changes in the harmonic network.”

“Yes,” replied Captain Glen, “they have a hierarchical structure to their society with a chain of command!”

He lowered his tricorder slightly.

“And more importantly, we’ve watched what they haven’t done.”

His expression became more serious.

“They haven’t surrounded us. They haven’t attempted to separate members of the away team. They haven’t attempted to restrict our movement. Nobody has attempted to disarm us, scan our equipment without permission, or position themselves between us and an exit.”

Reeves glanced briefly toward the entrance before looking back toward Glen.

“From a security standpoint, those absences are just as significant as their actions.”

Captain Glen simply nodded his agreement. He listened to more of Reeves’ assessment.

Reeves took another moment before continuing.

“If Starfleet Intelligence’s original assessment had been correct and these people were preparing to attack us, we’d expect to see at least some indication of that preparation. Security personnel moving into advantageous positions. Weapons being brought into proximity. Changes in patrol patterns. Attempts to control the environment around us.”

He gestured subtly toward the crystalline architecture.

“We’re seeing none of that.”

His eyes moved across the chamber again.

“In fact, we’re seeing almost the opposite. They’re giving us information. They’re allowing us to observe their environment. They’re actively helping our equipment understand them. And when we speak, they listen.”

A faint smile crossed his face.

“That doesn’t mean we should lower our guard. I wouldn’t recommend that.”

His expression returned to professional seriousness.

“But there is a difference between being cautious and being afraid of something simply because we don’t understand it.”

Reeves looked toward the elder Shiarian.

“Maybe that’s where we can find some of that common ground Captain Glen mentioned. Every society has to answer the same basic security questions eventually. Who can be trusted? What happens when someone breaks the rules? How do you protect your community? What obligations do individuals have to one another?”

He glanced down at his tricorder.

“We don’t know the Shiarian answers yet. But the fact that they have answers at all may be enough to give us somewhere to start.”

Reeves looked toward the captain once more.

“And there may be another lesson here for Starfleet Intelligence. We judged their ships by what they looked capable of doing to us. Maybe we should have spent more time asking what their ships were designed to protect.”

He let that thought sit for a moment.

“Because if their entire civilization is built around the idea that technology, communication, architecture, and community are interconnected, then perhaps their vessels aren’t weapons platforms that happen to carry people.”

His gaze returned to the crystalline walls.

“Perhaps they’re communities that happen to be capable of fighting.”

Reeves fell silent after that, allowing the senior officers to consider the observation. His tricorder remained active in his hand, continuing its passive security sweep of the chamber.

For now, the readings remained reassuring.

No weapons.

No hostile preparations.

No immediate threat.

Listening to Lt Reeves, Elyss began adjusting her opinion of the Shiarians. Everything the security officer said was true and prompted her to reassess her original ideas about the alien race. She took a deep breath and tried to dispel some of the tension in her shoulders.

The elder Shiarian remained silent while the Starfleet officers spoke among themselves. The crimson illumination beneath the crystalline floor continued its slow, rhythmic pulse, seemingly content to allow the visitors whatever time they required. Then the elder stepped forward.

“Something has changed,” Captain Glen observed. “I think that the elder Shiarian is going to communicate in some way.”

A low harmonic note passed through the chamber. This time, it was not joined by the surrounding Shiarians. The sound belonged to the elder alone, though the crystalline walls caught and carried it until the universal translators began assembling meaning from the layered tones. This time the computerized voice came from their communicators rather than their tricorders. It was obvious that the Shiarian’s technology had finally synced with them, that or their own equipment had caught up.

Do you understand me

A quick look at the faces of his officers told Captain Glen that they had also heard the question too. So, Glen spoke on their behalf, and his voice became ethereal and ghostly as it was translated, not by his communicator’s UT, but instead by something unknown, weird, and in harmony with the crimson backlight and vibrations they felt. He spoke just a single word in confirmation.

Yes

The elder waited several seconds before another sequence of harmonics followed that was filtered again through their communicators.

Can we communicate

His empty hands slowly opened before him, palms upward. The gesture was simple and deliberate.

So, they also use hand gestures to communicate, Glen thought to himself, but he repeated his reply again.

Yes

You were brought to Vey’lan for this purpose. Not as prisoners. Not as enemies.

The crimson glow beneath the Away Team brightened gently.

You were brought here so that communication might begin

The elder inclined his head toward Captain Glen and the others.

So that you may learn of us… and we may learn of you.

The chamber fell quiet once more, the harmonic resonance settling into a soft background vibration as the elder waited patiently for their answer.

GM Nosferatu
Your Darkest Nightmare

Glen look at his officers again, but in their own Starfleet style of hierarchical societal structure, he was the one within the chain of command who should answer back for them all.

Our mission here is also to communicate. We came to seek out your civilisation and to learn of you. We are explorers who travel to unfamiliar areas to learn about them.