Seven hours had elapsed since the USS Century had received the first transmission from the surviving species, and in those seven hours the ship had intercepted many hundreds of similar messages. Where the calls were close enough to cut through the radiation, there were exchanges of hope and promises of assistance. Those messages that were too isolated to break through the fog of interference remained frantic and heartbreaking. Through it all, the crew was duty bound to merely listen and record. And as the eighth hour drew upon them, Captain Gar’rath called upon his senior staff to make the hardest decision they might ever be called to make.

“I believe that we have observed all that we can without violating the Prime Directive and contaminating the world below,” the Gorn said as he looked around the room at the officers assembled. Some of them wore pained expressions as they listened to their Captain’s words, and more than one pair of knuckles were on the verge of turning white from the frustration of being powerless to render aid to those who so desperately needed it. Others were more stoic, showing little or no sign of being dissatisfied with the statement or the meaning behind it. It was very much a room divided by emotions, balanced precariously upon a razor’s edge.

“I concur, Captain,” said Lieutenant Commander Sorreth, the first to break the silence, “It is now certain that the local population has indeed survived the catastrophe they have visited upon themselves, even if rather diminished. Any intrusive interaction that we might engage in would directly impact their natural evolution. It would be prudent to withdraw our presence and continue on our exploratory tour of this region of space.”

“Agreed,” Lieutenant Commander Brak called out from his position at the table, “Or else we do what? Sit here wringing our hands while they do what every civilization in history has had to do, crawl out of the wreckage of their own stupidity? They got themselves into this mess, and if they’re still alive, they can get themselves out. We should get back to doing what we’re here to do; explore, not babysit.”

“It’s not that simple,” Lieutenant James countered, turning to the Tellarite, “You’re ignoring the very real moral dilemma of leaving them to live or die simply because the Prime Directive says that is how it should be. Many of them are asking for help from anyone… are we not that? Can we really say with certainty that dropping a few supplies near them to at least ease their suffering would be so utterly wrong?”

Lieutenant Commander Odaim sighed, then said, “If we were to provide assistance, and despite it all I’m not entirely sure we should even if it feels like the right call… it would have to be very rudimentary in nature. Bandages and ointments for radiation burns might be as far as we could go without risking their development. We wouldn’t even be able to give them the most basic of medicines without knowing what they’ve already discovered and what wouldn’t be possible to make on their world. I spent most of last night awake trying to think of how my department could contribute to some sort of humanitarian effort without it crossing the line into blatant violations of standing orders and came up woefully short.”

“I’m not a fan of leaving them to fend for themselves,” Commander Abigail Peters spoke up, “But I’m also not a fan of us ending up as a case study for how not to violate the Prime Directive in some Academy manual in a few years. We can either do the compassionate thing here… or we can do what is correct by doctrine. We aren’t going to be able to do both.”

“Nor will we,” Captain Gar’rath responded to his XO’s statement with finality, “We will leave this world fate as is the expectation of us. As hard as it is to accept, we are not in a position to rescue these people. There is no precedent we can lean upon to justify intervention of any kind, no matter how clandestine we tried to make it. The reality is, we were witness to this unfortunate event by chance. We had no obligation to those people prior to the self-determination to destroy themselves and that remains true now that it has happened. We will depart this system and continue on our way.”

“But we do have an obligation, Captain, a moral one,” Brian turned to face the Gorn, “It is morally wrong to simply abandon them completely.”

“Objection noted,” the Captain retorted flatly, “But it does not change my orders.”

Lt. James sank back into his seat, his frustration visible but his will to continue the argument diminished. The Gorn looked around the room at the remaining officers, “Anyone else?” Despite the earlier suggestions of aid and compassion, no one else voiced support for a different outcome. Gar’rath took the silence to mean acceptance of the decision having been made, even if he was not so naive as to think the rest of the room was satisfied with the result.

“If that is all, please carry out my orders. Dismissed.”