Star Trek: 2.
Movements of the Unseen Hand
by Charles Hackney
2364 AD
Stardate 41986.0
The satellite floated silently in space. A derelict, long since lost to its former owners, its solar cells allowed it to still function after three and a half centuries. It was experimental, a prototype, not really expected to work, much less work for this long. But work it did, even after having been knocked from its orbit to wander aimlessly through God's great void.
Space is big, and a small object like a single rogue satellite can go unnoticed for a long, long time. The fact that it was discovered so soon is sure testament to the guidance of the Unseen Hand. The fact that the workings of that same Hand are complex and often baffling is attested to by the fact that it was discovered by Ferengi.
The ship powered its way through nearby space. It was a small, short-range scout craft, somewhat insectoid in appearance, like some sort of squat beetle with ugly, stubby mandibles protruding from its ugly, stubby face. Lightly armed and armored, it was a subsidiary craft of a nearby Marauder-class vessel. Marauders were, by and large, privateers; performing duties of protecting the Ferengi Alliance, but primarily on the prowl for profitable exercises.
Like salvage.
The scout craft, roughly analogous to a Federation shuttlecraft in function and capabilities, was scanning the satellite as the two Ferengi inhabitants (which just goes to show that sometimes you can judge from appearances), held conference within the craft's cockpit.
"It looks really old," said the younger of the two.
The elder Ferengi grunted in acknowledgment. "The markings indicate that it is of hu-man origin." Ferengi were always doing that, pronouncing Human like "hyew-mahn." It made it sound more like an insult. Hyew-mahns were not were not especially well-liked among the Ferengi (not that many species were well-liked. Quite a racist bunch.). "Sensor analysis puts its age at over three hundred years."
"Lets take it in tow back to the ship and sell it to the Federation," hissed the younger Ferengi excitedly. "Those hu-mans are so sentimental about their archeological relics."
"We'd better check it out first," cautioned his companion. "We have no idea what's on that thing. There may," the Ferengi's face split in a wide, snaggletoothed grin, "be some artifacts on board which DaiMon Kell doesn't need to find."
A hiss of exhalation accompanied the younger Ferengi's contemplation of the treasures which may lay within the relic.
The younger Ferengi, it was decided, would beam over and examine the find, since the sensors had detected a breathable atmosphere aboard. Both wanted to go, of course, but one had to stay in the craft and keep an eye out, as they were not exactly operating within Ferengi territory.
It was dark inside. Not really a problem, the Ferengi had expected it to be dark. It was, he reasoned, a "ghost ship," after all (All right, a "ghost satellite." He wasn't in the mood to quibble.). Still, the staleness of the air, the harsh light from his palm-beacon, the oppressive silence, all added up to a distinctly spooky environment and a distinctly spooked Ferengi. Our ersatz hero can be forgiven, then, when he turned around to find himself face to face with a frozen corpse and experienced, shall we say, a moment of panic.
When Ferengi panic, they really panic. Ferengi are galactic champions at panicking. The young (now less than intrepid) explorer leapt back, tripping over a cable which was lying on the floor. At the same time, he let out the well-known "Ferengi Shriek," which sounds more than a little like a siren going off. Ferengi are possessed of one of the most highly developed instincts for self-preservation among sentient races. This instinct has influenced their technology, and Ferengi communicators are therefore preprogrammed to identify a shriek of distress and automatically activate their ship's transporters for a quick getaway.
It took the older Ferengi almost five minutes to calm his younger companion down. "There are dead people over there!" hollered the young Ferengi once he was able to do anything other than shriek.
"What kind of dead people?"
"Dead hu-mans!"
"What did they look like? Were they burned? Rotted skeletons? Fresh? Wounded? Did it look like they starved? A biological infection?"
"They� they were frozen."
"Frozen? Was it cold?"
"Uh� no."
"Then how could they be frozen?"
"They just were!"
After further discussion, the older Ferengi decided to go over and investigate. He brought with him a lantern, rather than a palm beacon, for more general illumination. He was on guard when he beamed over, but quickly saw what had scared his junior partner. One wall of the satellite's interior was lined with some ancient variety of stasis tubes. Upon closer examination, it became clear that the tubes were primitive cryogenic units intended to maintain the occupants in a frozen state of suspended animation indefinitely.
The Ferengi contacted his companion. "I've located your 'dead people.' There are several cryogenic tubes lining a wall here. I see nothing of any real value."
Disappointed, the younger Ferengi asked, "Could the bodies be worth anything?"
"They're not bodies. They're still alive in there. Sort of. I don't know, beam one back for analysis. I see here three males, one female, and�" the Ferengi stopped and choked slightly. One of the tubes had apparently malfunctioned some time ago, and it contained a desiccated corpse. "Take this one," he said, pointing his scanner at a tube containing one of the males. "Are you receiving my data?"
"I'm getting it. Energizing." The inert form glittered as it dematerialized. "I've transported it" (apparently he could not bring himself to refer to the Human as "he") "into a stasis field. I can see why it was frozen. There seems to be a piece of shrapnel lodged in its skull. Shouldn't be too hard to fix, but I doubt hu-man medicine could handle it three hundred years ago." The Ferengi was about to make some disparaging remarks about Human doctors, but was interrupted by an alarm from the scout craft's control panel. The Ferengi started at the sound. "Sensors indicate an approaching vessel! Federation signature! And it's a big one!"
"Immediate beam-out! Get us out of here!"
The older Ferengi was beamed back from the satellite, and the small craft leapt into warp in the direction of its mothership. Almost immediately after their departure, an immense Galaxy-class starship, the USS Enterprise, approached the derelict hulk.
"Well, that wasn't very profitable," complained the younger Ferengi as the scout craft sped toward its rendezvous. "All we have to show for our efforts is one frozen hu-man with a punctured head."
The older Ferengi sighed in agreement. "DaiMon Kell won't like this. Fortunately, I already know what we can do with the hu-man."
The younger Ferengi's ears perked up. "What? Who would want it?"
"I know a Zibalian who is a voracious collector of rarities. And what could be rarer that a three-hundred fifty year-old hu-man?"
The younger Ferengi grinned.
