A Gift From One People To Another

Posted on Sun Mar 24th, 2019 @ 12:27pm by The Narrator & Lieutenant Commander Meilin Jiang

Mission: S1E2: A Temple To New Gods
Location: AgriDome, Xilosian Tent City
Timeline: MD4 11.00AM

"Ah, Commander Meiling! Please, come in! Come in!"

The tent was a tent, as universal a structure as there could be in the cosmos. This one was large, leaning more towards the barracks-style with four walls and a steeped roof. But the material was sound, a polymer of some sort and the folding furniture within was of the austerity military design beholden to an era of scarcity. Kisbeck ushered her inside, gesturing to one chair whilst he fussed with a chemical heating plate a battered brass coloured urn with steam rising from it.

"I'll freely admit," he said as the fronds atop his head flittered back and forth between blue and orange. "that when I got your communication this morning I wasn't sure I was the best person you could be speaking to. I am, at heart, a geologist and theoretical physicist. My areas of study are somewhat minimal."

Meilin pressed her mouth in a tight smile. "Meilin. My name is Meilin Jiang. Lieutenant Commander. Chief Science Officer of Canopus Station."

Corrections needed to be made, so it seemed best to do so with a full reiteration of her name, position, and mission. That would save time on further potential corrections and also serve as an ample starting point.

"Everything we discuss will be entered into my report, which will further be added to the comprehensive first contact dossier for the Federation," she explained. "Everything you share will be studied by billions of scholastic minds like myself." Only then did she assume the offered seat. "You are Philosopher Prime of the Civilian Mandate. Is this position unique to your Cradle facility or did it represent greater influence before the arrival of the Concordance?"

"Billions?" Kisbeck said, pouring the steeped liquid from the pot into a pair of cups. "You make it sound as though there are entire worlds devoted to learning out there. I remember from my teaching days how hard it is to fill even a small auditorium with students, let alone 'billions'."

He turned and walked back to her, handing her a cup. The brew inside was dark brown, with a rich citrus scent permeating the steam.

"As for my title and position, it is unique to the leader of the Civilian Mandate. During the Fall Back, Philosopher Primes were assigned to each of the three Cradle Facilities. I was not my Cradles first Philosopher Prime, my predecessor had a more stark view of our chances and chose to make his own way to what he thought was an inevitable conclusion," Kisbeck sipped his tea. "Before all that I was Philopsher of Geo Studies, 4th Tier. I could have taught permanently at one of the city collegia, but field work...to get some dirt on your finger pads? I couldn't have refused, nor asked for a better base of operation than an old Cradle Facility built and nearly forgotten after the Caldera Crisis."

Nodding attentively, Meilin organized her notes. The automatic transcription did all the actual notation, which left her free to designate directories and subheadings from the floating blurbs. The entire process was not unlike a verbal jigsaw puzzle where the pieces were poured onto the table in a never-ending stream.

"Yes, very good," she said. Peculiarities notwithstanding, the Xilosians did not dramatically differ from many humanoid species in the central galaxy. Meilin eliminated entire clusters of potential questions. Gene testing would be conclusive, but Meilin already saw more than enough to feel certain of what she had already suspected: The Xilosians were kindred beings and fellow children of the ancient humanoid panspermia.

Once Kisbeck finished, Meilin drew her next question from the last thing he'd mentioned. "Tell me more of the Caldera Crisis. How did it begin and end?"

“Wel it began and ended long before I was born. But being a geologist it is something close to my heart, not to mention the beneficiary of my peoples forward thinking. We discovered that under the Sea of Vale, a large inland ocean, was the caldera of a super massive volcano. A caldera a hundred miles from side to side, indeed the coast of the Vale was actually the rim of the crater wall. I remember going there as a child with my family, immersing my toes in the warm black sand...I think it was there my love of my planet came to me-“ Kisbeck cut himself and smiled sheepishly.

“The Caldera Crisis,” he said with a smile, getting himself back on track. “Soon after this discovery, we discovered evidence of a rising pressure pocket within the magma chamber. An eruption was soon to be had, and given the size and location of the volcano a world ending event unheard of in our history. For a very brief time our people were united, beyond creed, religion or national border. We built pressure taps around the Vale, massive vents that would turn the pressure into geothermal energy. We used drills to make vents for the magma to escape from that lead out to the distant oceans. But, as with all things we hoped for the best but planned for the worst. Fourteen massive bunkers were commissioned, designed to house well over half of the population should the eruption take place. We were happy to work under the ideal that we had a 50/50 chance of surviving the end of the world. Which, as you can imagine, did not come to pass. The vents worked, and in doing so created a chain of islands spiralling out from the all four corners of the land. The Cradle facilities that were finished were moth balled, in case of some future catastrophe. Only three of the fourteen planned.”

He looked around the tent and grinned.

“Three were ample to save our species from extinction. If not save everyone.”

"Fascinating," Meilin said. "On many worlds, it requires devastating war or an external threat, perhaps invasion, to unite all people to a common cause. Your world's active geology did that for you, yet nonetheless the peace held."

As she continued her recording, she highlighted the designation "cooperative". Despite the lethality with which Meilin had watched Kle dispatch Ensign Kyril-Ma, that appeared to be a learned response rather than an instinctual one. With the right environment, the Xilosians would undoubtedly flourish in peace.

"What of your culture?" Meilin asked. "We did not see much of artistic expression within the Cradle. Did you have any great artists? What mediums did they use? Techniques, trends, styles, concepts, developments, et cetera?"

"We had many artists from as many fields as you can imagine. Music, performance, art in a myriad of context. I wouldn't know where to begin as my tastes were more geared towards Beach Sand music than any other. Oh the classic stations would play it all the time, but the more modern LightWave was too edgy for me. Too much of a strobe to it to really enjoy the music..." he trailed off for a moment. "Oh but of course! HA! Yes, yes, of course, you don't have-"

He waved a hand atop his head, gesturing to the illuminated fronds that danced with warm colours. He got up from his chair, gesturing for her to sit and popped his head out of the tent flap. A hurried conversation with someone outside, and he was soon returned to her.

"You don't have photoceptive's do you?" he said. "I mean your keratinous head covering isn't sensitive to light is it? I mean for a Xilosian our photocept's are a means of expression and information gathering. Like smell, or sound waves. A lot of our artistry is denoted in that regard. Kug The Lesser, for instance, was one of the school of Conservatory Glass. He'd make these great coloured glass enclosures, each encapsulating a mood or idea. I was only ever able to see some of his minor works, his Shade Series. The Grand Pavillion he made for the Mandate's Congress was something I always wanted to visit but never found the time. AH! Kaj, good boy you found it!"

A young Xilosian entered into the tent, his hands holding what looked like half a disco ball set into a squat black plastic base.

"Thank you," Kisbeck said and held out the item in his hands. "Not quite a light shawl, but a photophone is a much more robust device. I can't tell you how many times I've dropped this down the stairs, even before the Concordance arrived."

Meilin set her PADD aside, leaving it to autoconfigure their words for a moment. "You called this a photophone?" She hovered her hand overtop of it, hesitant to make tactile contact.

"I call it an antique," Kisbeck chuckled and flipped a small switch on its underside. A strange, grinding melody arose from within it as he set it on the camp table. From its mirrored dome arose shafts of soft light, illuminating the interior of the tent with a kaleidoscopic assortment of abstract shapes and colours that seemed to be oddly paired to the music. The grinding gave way to waves of rustling, like the sound sand might make falling from a height.

Meilin closed her eyes and entered a meditative state, one where she denied all but the sound and soft flicker of light she could still see against her eyelids. Shifting sand. Rustling branches. Still waters. Soft breeze. Baby's breathing. The lost life of a perished world. Her smile turned wan in the experience of such a beautiful tragedy.

"Your antique is a wonderful treasure, indeed," she said at length, once the lingering feeling had passed. Her eyes opened to meet his. "I thank you for sharing it with me."

"It is the very least that I can do," he said, reaching under the photophone to turn it off. "A modern light shawl would be useless as an example, as it's a head covering with embedded LED's on the inner surface. I never got on with them myself, the music was always a little off."

He placed his hand on the device, a tired smile on his dark face.

"One day there will be news music of my people, but for now there are merely recordings. Echoes. I look forward to hearing the first piece written beyond the surface of my world," he shrugged his shoulders. "Easier to lug around than a Conservatory Piece that's for sure."

"Indeed it is," Meilin said warmly. "I look forward to the day when the soul of your people can once again express itself through artistic expression." Inclining her head, she prepared her loaded, potentially devastating question. "When we first met, you suggested the Concordance operated in a religious function. Does that mean religion was endemic to Xilos?"

"Again I'm perhaps not the best person to ask. I'm something of an apostate, hard to believe in something directing the course of destiny to bring us all here when they would have had to bring so much pain with them as well. And any deity that says its to make us stronger for our faith can go right over there and fornicate!" Kisbeck laughed. "But there were religions on Xilos. The Chard God was the most popular in my home nation, you've probably heard a few people speaking it as an oath. Then you had the Pillar's Of Dawn who say a trio of mountains and thought they held up the world. There are more, but I'm a scholar, not a theologian."

Meilin smiled and nodded. The universal antipathy between religious thought and scientific thought persisted even in Messier. Yet another marker of their common ancestry through the ancient humanoids.

"The diversity of religion showcases much about a people," Meilin explained. "The reasons why we act are as important as the act themselves, at least from an anthropology standpoint. It gives context, measures potential, and even allows for predictions. My world advanced very quickly, with only ourselves as obstacles. In the end, we overcame even that." She paused her notations for a moment. "On a personal note, I do see the Tao emerging here. Not a deity as such, but a force, the united will of all that lives which cycles and recycles all things. The Concordance was a dark rebirth caused by a cycle of destruction which perpetuates itself. And so the Tao brings us here, and our joined cycle is a rebirth as well. A vibrant one. Just as a weather system or tectonic plate must adjust to compensate for pressure changes, so we must yield to the Tao's flow, and in small ways, it to us. And for this I give thanks, that our paths have crossed in so splendid a manner."

Meilin wanted to give Kisbeck an opportunity to ask his own questions, as a line of questioning could be very educational in itself. Their discussion, however, lent itself to a slightly different track. Would Kisbeck take the philosophical bait and make inquiries of his own?

"Well...if you say so," Kisbeck said, in that tone of voice you reserved solely for speaking to very confused people holding a very sharp weapon. "I mean don't take me wrong, freedom of expression is a cornerstone of the Mandate...but I always assumed that to become a star-faring race of any sort you'd need to outgrow the frail guidelines of an all-powerful invisible friend who only every so often got it into their head to fing a plague or asteroid at you for nothing making the right offerings. Does your Federation have a state religion, or is it more of a personal choice? Actually come to think of it I seem to recall hearing your Federation is made up a great many more races than I've seen assembled in your company. How do all your cultures survive? Or were you all accommodated into the current governmental frame work by force of arms?"

Such candor made Meilin smile. "One of our Federation's founding members, the Vulcans, practice a religion of Logic that suppresses violent emotion through the fostering of rational thought. They have all but abdandoned their gods of antiquity, save for a few vestigial holidays that may yet fade away in coming generations. Even they maintain an axiom that has become a guiding light to our Starfleet: Infinite Diversity, Infinite Combinations." She resumed her notes as she spoke, specifically highlighting the words Postmodern Enlightenment. "To your question, if we had a state religion, IDIC would be it. But it could not exist without the myriad of others, whether they are theistic beliefs such as the Bajorans with their Prophets and messianic Emissaries, or monistic beliefs such as my own Taoism and even the Borg Collective which hold to a fundamental oneness of all things." Meilin cut a sharp eyebrow over her smile. "I could no more believe in an invisible, all-powerful friend than believe that I am she--for I would have to believe such. But there are those who would give their lives for a statue--not for the graven image, but for which the graven image stands."

Meilin gave a moment for that to sink in. "Such is the galactic community to which the Xilosians will be introduced. Do not be so quick to dismiss and disregard where you come from. Your people will have enough to rebuild as it is. In the Beta Quadrant, the Klingon Empire was said to kill their gods, and then went on to scourge the galaxy not unlike the Concordance in an undefined lust for glory and honor."

Closing out her PADD, Meilin produced a blank one from her satchel. "As Philosopher Prime, you have the unique position of setting the path that future Xilosians will walk for ages to come. I do not provide this lightly, and I feel sufficient warning has been given. However, I believe you are capable of traversing our databanks without falling into ruin. Learn well from those who have come before, Kisbeck."

"So...fate of my people eh?" Kisbeck said slowly as he sank back into his seat, his hands cradling the teacup. "You'll have to forgive my lack of excitement at the task. A little more than a day ago I was as certain as I could be I could predict the future. A day of tending the yeast vats, teaching a class, having a meagre meal and ruminating on repeating until I died in my sleep or through some environmental miscalibration. I'll get used to the idea of a brighter future, but you'll need to give me-...give us sometime to acclimate to the idea too."

Meilin nodded. "I will always make myself available, now and after we find you a new home." She shrugged. "Who knows? In a generation's time perhaps we'll see Xilosians in service on this station."

"That day might come sooner than you think," Kisbeck said thoughtfully.