A full duty day had passed, and Captain Gar’rath found himself once again in his Ready Room, looking over the sensor data that the USS Century had collected on the doomed planet they were orbiting. The information was grim, outlining a sharp downward slope of both flora and fauna population figures, coupled inseparably with radiation density spikes. The Gorn couldn’t help but feel that such a scenario could have been averted had the planet’s population simply tried to find some better way to deal with whatever discord had brought them to the point that annihilation seemed to be the only option. Sadly, he also knew that intervention in their affairs was not just morally wrong, but ran counter to everything the Federation stood for.

The chime of his Ready Room’s door started chirping as Gar’rath began to slip into a philosophical spiral, allowing him to abandon his negative thoughts as he commanded the visitor to enter. The figure of the ship’s Operations Chief, Lieutenant Commander Sorreth, penetrated the interior of the compartment, swiftly moving to a place just in front of the Captain’s desk with a PaDD clutched in his hand.

“What do you have for me, Commander?” the Gorn asked as he looked up at the Vulcan from his seated position.

Sorreth flipped the PaDD around in his grip before offering it up to his superior, “I have received requests for transporter usage from the science department, including location markers and small explanations for their requests.”

The Captain reached up and took the device from the Vulcan’s hands, taking a minute or so to gaze at the collection of requests. The first few dozen were innocent enough requests; a statue, some manner of book collection, some pieces of what was probably artworks from the culture below. It wasn’t until he reached the midpoint of the list that his eyes narrowed and his posture changed.

“They’re requesting we bring aboard animals and plants…” Gar’rath growled as he spoke aloud. His muttered words were louder than he’d initially intended them to be, prompting the Operations Officer to comment on it.

“Their requests appeared investigatory in nature initially. Upon closer examination, however, the requested acquisitions from the surface began to duplicate themselves. Several individuals requested a large collection of certain specimens, listing slightly more elaborate justifications each time they replicated an entry.”

“So it seems…” the Gorn said, setting the PaDD down with a look of displeasure plastered on his face, “This looks more like a rescue attempt than a simple catalogue of indigenous species.”

“That appears to be the intent, Captain. I would recommend denying the duplicated requests, as they do not appear to be in accordance with the intent of our current undertaking,” the Vulcan suggested flatly.

“Bringing anything living aboard runs counter to what we are doing here, and I wonder if they know this and are deliberately trying to sidestep it using surreptitious and barely justifiable methods to see it done,” Gar’rath said while the claws of his right hand clacked upon the surface of his desk in an irritated manner.

“It is a logical assumption based on the volume of repetitive requests,” Sorreth conceded.

“Denied… all of them,” the Captain said after ruminating over the decision for several tense seconds.

The Vulcan’s right eyebrow rose up at this, “All of them, sir?”

“Yes, Commander, all of them. And until further notice, I want all transporters taken offline across the ship,” the Gorn ordered.

“I see,” Sorreth said, retrieving the PaDD from the Captain’s desk where it had just been tossed, “What explanation should I relay when the denial is questioned by the department?”

“If they wish to have my orders explained, they can direct their questions to me through their department head.”

“Very well, Captain, I will see to it,” the Vulcan nodded politely to the Captain and turned about on his heels and departed the room as swiftly as he’d entered. Gar’rath took a moment calm himself down, taking a few deep breaths as he tried to let go of the anger he felt at the scientists who had tried rather hard to countermand his directive to simply catalogue and archive what they could from orbit without direct contact. He knew in the logical part of his head that they weren’t doing it out of malice, but the more emotional fragment of his mind didn’t believe that for a second.

The door to his Ready Room swished open, the form of Commander Abigail Peters, his Executive Officer, appearing through the doorway without the usual fanfare that would come with a visitor. Being already in a sour mood, Gar’rath felt himself glaring at Commander Peters as she made her way toward him.

“Why are the transporters being locked down, did something happen?” Abby asked.

Her question sounded innocent enough that Gar’rath’s glare softened a bit, “No… nothing has happened… yet.”

“Meaning?”

“It is a precautionary measure to prevent members of our science department from accidentally engaging in an attempt to rescue specimens from the planet surface under the guise of archival sampling,” the Captain explained.

“I don’t understand…” Peters said, sinking down into one of the chair in front of the Captain’s desk, “When did they try to do that?”

The Gorn shook his head, “It’s not that they have tried to do so already, Commander. It is because I can envision the discontent my denial will create among the individuals who made the requests, and I have no confidence that there won’t be an attempt made should the opportunity present itself.”

“That’s a tad heavy handed, don’t you think? There’s been no indication that there are survivors down there,” Peters countered, “It’s not a stretch to say that because the dominant culture is deceased, any actions we take to remove primitive lifeforms or plants is purely a scientific endeavor, not a violation of the Prime Directive.”

“I disagree. By removing them from a world that has just been rendered uninhabitable by the resident culture, we will be altering their natural evolution by rescuing them and allowing them to survive when, had we not been here, they would have perished along with all other life on the planet not hardy enough to weather a nuclear cataclysm. It is no less a violation of the spirit of the Prime Directive as direct interference in the conflict that caused the situation would have been,” Gar’rath explained.

Abby sank back in her chair and crossed her arms in front of her, “If we were to try to remove entire populations of creatures or entire species of plants from the surface, I might be inclined to agree, but I doubt our science department is looking to do that. If the number of specimens was the issue, couldn’t you have simply handed down an order to curtail the numbers rather than completely dismiss their requests? I’d imagine a half-dozen examples of flora and fauna wouldn’t be enough for even the most conservative interpretation of the Prime Directive to take issue with such actions.”

“The issue wasn’t just the numbers,” the Gorn pointed out, “We have no confirmation that every member of the local sentient species has truly been wiped out. If even one of them has managed to survive, and by some astronomically small chance they witness our transporters taking something off that planet and they make it known, whether it be by attempting to contact us through their rudimentary radio transmitters or some other means, we will have willingly violated the Prime Directive and that could set a very dangerous precedence for our exploration mission later on, or give Starfleet a reason to recall us from the frontier and remove everyone complicate in said violation.”

Abby let out a small huff, “That’s hardly…” Before she could finish her thought, the chime to the Ready Room sounded, with only the briefest of pauses before the chime rang out again. Gar’rath’s maw tightened in a look of reptilian displeasure before barking out an order for the visitor to enter. The doors swished open and Lieutenant Brian James entered, his face the picture of composure but his posture rigid and tense. He took a few steps into the compartment before stopping, taking notice that the XO was also in the room.

“Am I interrupting something?” Lt. James asked.

“Not as such,” Capt. Gar’rath said, his voice a bit terse.

“Permission to speak freely, Captain,” the Science Chief asked as he gripped a PaDD he’d brought with him tightly in both hands.

“Go ahead, Lieutenant.”

“I have to object to your order to disallow any sample collection of the planet, sir. We’ve made considerable progress with the cataloging of planetary ecosystems, but there is only so much we can learn through sensor scans in orbit. While I acknowledge that some of the requests that my team have made might have appeared excessive at first glance, each department made separate requests without consolation with one another and only to the degree necessary to accurately and faithfully archive and preserve for posterity the lifeforms that will no doubt be extinct by the time Starfleet sends a follow on mission to this planet,” Brian explained, his words becoming more passionate as he spoke.

“That may be so,” the Gorn retorted with an ever so slight hiss, “But the fact remains that to anyone who read the request, it appeared to be a very poorly masked attempt to rescue the remaining life on the planet from their preordained extinction. That is not why were are here, and that is not what I asked you and your department to undertake when I made the decision to move our ship in orbit after we received those transmissions that alluded to the resident civilization having succumbed to a nuclear cataclysm.”

“We’re not trying to play savior here, Captain,” Lt. James countered in a tone a bit louder than he’d previously been speaking, “We are doing no less here than we did during our previous stop. We took samples, we brought wildlife aboard and catalogued it. We are trying to preserve a record of what is here before it ceases to exist, not prevent their natural end if that’s truly what is going to happen to them down there.”

Gar’rath let out a frustrated breath as he leaned back a bit in his chair, “You’re assuming that there isn’t any risk involved with doing that. Removing local lifeforms from the surface wouldn’t be an issue if we knew for a fact that there was no one left to observe our actions and come to know that they are not alone, but there is someone in the galaxy capable of spiriting them away from their imminent demise. Or even worse, that we were capable of preventing their extinction, and we chose to do nothing.”

“But we haven’t found any survivors!” Lt. James argued, his grip on his PaDD growing so tight that it made an audible cracking sound.

“Bridge to Captain Gar’rath,” the voice of Lt. Cmdr. Sorreth cut through the room, stifling the comeback that had yet to leave the Captain’s mouth.

“Go ahead,” the Gorn responded.

“We have just received a low frequency communication signal from the surface,” the Vulcan’s voice echoed in the compartment.

“What does it say?” the Captain asked the question that flashed through each of the officers’ minds.

“In short, it is inquiring as to whether anyone is receiving their transmission.”

“Continue to monitor the signal, and any subsequent transmissions but do not given any response,” the Captain ordered before turning to the two members of his Senior Staff sitting before him. Lieutenant James’ head drops almost immediately after Gar’rath’s eyes shift from the middle distance to him. The brief exchange with the bridge had drained the momentum from Brian’s argument, leaving it stalled.

“Now we have found survivors,” the Captain said with renewed resolve, “And because of this, this is no longer a debate over semantics. Anything we do from this moment forward must be weighed against the very real danger of reckless interference with this world’s natural development.”

“Are we going to depart the system?” Cmdr. Peters asked in a subdued tone.

“Not yet,” Gar’rath responded, “But we need to monitor surface communications very closely. If there is any indication that they have noticed our presence in orbit, we may need to depart quickly.”

“Understood,” the XO nodded, pushing herself out of the chair she’d been sitting in, “I’ll return to the bridge and make sure we keep our eyes and ears open.”

“Thank you, Commander,” the Captain called out to Abby as she hurried out of the Ready Room. Once she’d departed, the Gorn returned his attention to his Science Chief. The man was still gazing at the floor, as if his mind were leagues away from his body.

“Lieutenant,” Gar’rath called out, seeking to seize his attention. It took two attempts at calling his name before Brian finally snapped out of whatever internal struggle he was immersed in.

“Sir?”

“I appreciate that you are passionate about your calling as a scientist,” the Gorn began with a sympathetic tone before his words grew sharp, “But I do not appreciate being yelled at. Doubly so when such utterances are not grounded in truth. Did you actually look for anyone down there, Lieutenant?”

Lt. James’ head shot up at the accusation, a flicker of anger in his eyes before it smoldered and disappeared as he muttered, “I was so preoccupied with trying to find ways to save what we could from disappearing into obscurity that I may have lost focus of the bigger picture.”

“You and your team had good intentions,” the Captain said in a low tone, “But intentions alone would not have saved us from the scrutiny we would have rightly deserved had you or your people executed your grand designs in ignorance.”

“The road to hell is paved with good intentions…” Brian muttered in a low voice before letting out a derisive chuckle, “I suppose I forgot that in my rush to argue my case.”

“I’m not familiar with that saying,” Gar’rath remarked.

“It’s an old Earth adage that tries to remind us that good intentions alone don’t mean much, it is our actions and their consequences that do. It’s something I heard a few times growing up but didn’t pay much attention to, I didn’t understand the implications of it when my grandfather would say it after my siblings and I would do something that ended badly simply because we thought we were doing it for the right reasons,” Lt. James recounted with a wry smile.

“Interesting. I’ll have to remember that.”