**So you're leaving me?** Aleilan nuzzled closer.
       **If the Admiral makes a good case. I suppose there is nothing stopping you from coming too. Admiral Barnard did invite Ane to come.**
       **The ship is so small.**
       **The Savanna was any larger?**
       **That was very different.**
       **In any case it will not be more than few months. And truly, can we ever part?**
       **No, we cannot.**

       Ensign April knocked at Barnard's cabin. "A Mr. LaSaille to set you sir."
       "Yes, Robert, show him to the wardroom."
       "Aye, aye sir."
       Barnard pulled himself to his feet and made his own way. LaSaille was waiting for him. He rose as the Admiral entered.
       "Admiral Barnard."
       "Mr. LaSaille. I suppose your are here for the briefing."
       "Yes."
       "Then let us proceed."

       LaSaille's fingers drummed the table as the room lights came back up. "You want me to go into the forest, find these people and get the story."
       "In essence, yes."
       "You're not afraid of further damage?"
       Barnard sighed. "I don't know. I really don't know. Can we damage these people more, if that is indeed the case? If that is the case I have to say damage done. We need to know so we can not do it again."
       "An autopsy of a culture."
       "Yes. Never fun, but often necessary."
       "I'll go."
       "Thank you sir. When can you be ready?"
       "My kit is on the dock."

       Adilan looked out over the rolling hills. The sun beat down in the usual searing fashion. Her accustom herd moved around her. She dropped to her belly and started to chew. The interview with the Human had been disturbing. "Their stories will be lost." She closed her eyes and sought her center. She elevated her Icon and raised her Aspect. She joined the chorus of the All.
       Said Adilan to the All: **It is the way the Creator placed before us to take the stories of the people and to remember them.**
       Said the All to Adilan: **Yes Sister, that has been the way.**
       Said Adilan to the All: **Yet we wait on others to come to us.**
       Said the All to Adilan: **How could it be otherwise?**
       Said Adilan to the All: **The Human Barnard invited us to go and find stories, yet none went. There are now stories we will be forever denied.**
       Said the All to Adilan: **Yes, always it is so. We cannot be everywhere.**
       Said Adilan to the All: **Why must we wait for others to carry us out? Why cannot we, with the friends we have made, go seeking for ourselves?**
       Said the All to the All: **We have much to discuss...**

       Robin Berry popped down on the seat across from the elusive new passenger. "Morning."
       "Good morning Ms. Berry." Jerry continued to page through the much read issue of 'Sol Life'.
       "So, how bad did he twist your arm?"
       "He didn't."
       "You just decided to come?"
       "Yes."
       "Why?"
       Jerry allowed a brief smile. "Ms. Berry, I really don't care to be interviewed."
       "I am sure you have a most interesting tale to tell. I am quite willing to listen."
       Jerry put the magazine aside. "I have spent a lifetime eschewing the press. I see no reason to change now."
       Robin continued to study him from across the table. "Not a word?"
       "Not a word."

       For the second time the Mandalay slipped into orbit around Epsilon Thirty Cee. The expedition shuttles had not been unpacked. Barnard, LaSaille and a small crew mounted up and headed for the surface.
       The shuttle touched down on the old campsite. The sun was just coming up locally. Jerry shouldered the pack he carried and eyed the tree line. "Anything you forgot to tell me? Now would be the time."
       Barnard mopped his brow as the heat rolled into the small shuttle It was much hotter than when they left. "Such as?"
       "Deadly bugs, venomous serpents?"
       "We were here two months and nothing killed us, and no one in my expedition is as tough as you."
       "I'll take that as a no. I'll give myself three days to find natives."
       "I don't want to give up that easy."
       "I won't. But even I like a shower and hot meals once in awhile."
       Barnard grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "Good luck."
       "Thanks. LaSaille jogged off the ship and toward the trees."
       The piloting Lieutenant looked after the departing man. "What now Sir?"
       "You heard him, get the shower set up, and a couple of hardsides while you're at it."

       Jerry walked slowly. He wasn't going anywhere in particular, but he was hunting. Hunting meant keeping your senses sharp. He checked the inertial compass and made another mark. Getting hopelessly lost was not part of the mission planing. What was it the old SOG teams did in the 'Nam? Yea, stay still as much as they moved. Jerry hunkered down and took a drink. He let the sounds of the jungle return to normal around him. Breathing deeply he found his center and began the internal chant. **I'm not here, I'm not here.**

       Robin paced the deck, looked out the port, paced some more. Her husband watched for a while.
       "Are you planing to pace till they get back?"
       "I don't like it Mike. Things are happening down there, and we are on the ship."
       Mike stirred the cream into his coffee. "I think if you had the choice of being in the riot and getting a story, or missing the riot and not getting one, you would prefer in the riot."
       Robin looked at him. "Like that was even a choice?"
       "Call Barnard. This tub has radios."
       Robin bolted in the direction of communications.

       The comm set chirped again. Barnard sighed and hit the pickup. "Barnard here."
       "Rich." Said Robin in her sweetest voice. "What's happening?"
       Barnard shifted for a better view of the screen. "Plenty of nothing. Mr. LaSaille has been in the woods all of four hours, and I am sweating twenty pounds into my socks."
       "No reports, nothing?"
       "No, reports. And he won't unless he needs rescue. Goodness Robin, he's a big boy."
       "However, you're the man on the spot."
       "Robin, there is nothing to report."
       "If you had let me come with you..."
       "Both of us would be sweating into our socks. Look we are both waiting on pins and needles, you have the advantage of a nice air conditioned ride to do it in."
       "But you're in the middle of the action!"
       "There, is, no, action." Barnard grabbed the mobile pick up and swung it around. "See? Dullness as far as the eye can see. I'll call if anything happens." He shut the comm off. "Mr. Armstrong?"
       Sir?"
       "Take charge of the comm, bother me only if it is urgent."
       "Yes Sir."
       Barnard stretched out on the lounge and put his hat firmly over his face.

       Jerry waited quietly. A day and a half in the forest had taught him a few of the better traveled trails. There, again, that sound. The unmistakable sound of a vocal people on the move. Jerry started to move, quietly, always quietly. Old skills returned when needed, and the rain covered any errors that lack of practice wrought. He moved to out flank the people in the nearby clearing.

       Barnard did his level best to enjoy lunch. The party hadn't covered their trenches and the open wounds in the earth reminded him of fresh graves in the sweltering heat and rain. Graves to bury a people. Would it have cost that much time to backfill the pits?
       "Mr. Armstrong!"
       "Yes Sir?" The young man came running.
       "Mr. Armstrong, is the tractor unit still in the shuttle?"
       "Yes Sir it is."
       "Can you use it?"
       "Aye aye Sir."
       "Good. I want those pits backfilled."
       "Aye aye sir."

       Robin looked out the windows yet again. Cold space separated her from the speck of ground in which the hunt continued. Barnard hadn't said word one except for the normal welfare checks. She continued to look out the windows, it kept her from pacing.

       He caught them out in the open. A male, he assumed, three females and two children. Jerry ghosted into visibility. **Speak with me, please.**
       The women shrieked and dropped their bundles. They grabbed the children and pelted for the wood. Likewise the male back-peddled his knife and spear in hand, his eyes huge and yellow, the pupils small and fearful.
       Jerry could see they hung back right on the tree line. He stood among their modest possessions. Items they might need for survival. He backed away from the bundles, and emptied his hands holding them spread before him.
       **Speak with me.** Jerry coaxed from the clearing.
       The shadows swayed to and fro. "/Speak, what is there to speak sky god? You have come, and we are shattered./"
       **I am no god.**
       "/Yet your words are like thunder. They sound not, but are loud./"
       **I have but a skill unknown to you, I am but a shape of 'man'.**
       "/Mock us not sky dweller, do not so mock us. Men do not dwell among the stars. Men walk on the earth, men strive and toil. Men fall, and are buried in the soil. How can a creature than comes down form the sky in lodges be a man?/"
       **What am I if I am not a man?**
       "/You are impossible, you cannot be! Nothing can save us. You cannot be!" Wailed the shadow. "Creatures that can speak with men cannot abide above the sky. Why did you return to mock us further?/"
       **We did not come to mock anyone. We came to make friends.**
       "/Friends? Friends?/"
       The shadow burst into the open and the small golden colored man flung himself at LaSaille. Jerry caught the clumsy rush, and twisted the iron tipped spear from the golden man's grip. He crumpled to the ground, sobbing. He spoke between the sobs. "/We have, no friends in the sky. Our gods dwell, in earth and stone. They protect us from wind and fire that falls, from the sky. But they are gone!! If, if you can come, our gods are not, not... real./"
       **Why would the reality, or unreality of gods matter? You are, is that not enough?**
       The little man stared in wide-eyed horror. He scrabbled away from LaSaille. "/How can you say such things? How can you... do these things?/"
       The little man ran back into the trees. Jerry sat a long moment, the weight of the man's fear and horror pressing him to the ground. Finally it was clear no more people were coming out of the forest. He got to his feet, and made his way back to camp.

       Barnard was waiting for him at the camp. "God man you look awful."
       Jerry slumped into the seat. "I think I have your answer."
       "Well?"
       "You're not going to like it."
       "I never figured I would Mr. LaSaille. What did you find out."
       "We did it."
       "How?"
       "By being human at them."
       "That's it?"
       "Not exactly, there is more, but that is the short of it. They have no philosophy to accept people from the sky."
       "But every known culture has such myths."
       "Well, we tragically found the one that didn't."
       Richard Barnard stood a moment, letting it sink in. "We can be damn arrogant in our assumptions."
       "We?"
       "The Human race Mr. LaSaille. We can be damn arrogant. This time, it's blood on our hands as the price of it. Will you give me a full report I can present to the Federation council?"
       "Yes Sir, I will do that."
       "I don't know what the solution is, but we owe a debt here."
       "It might have to be paid forward. I don't know that help would be welcome here."
       "Paid forward?"
       "Debts are usually paid back, to the person you owe the debt. We can't undo what is done here. I don't think pay back is possible. Can we prevent it happening again? Pay forward, by not doing it to anyone else?"
       Barnard "I will do what I can. Mr. Armstrong, break camp and get us back to the ship."

       Jerry gave his report to the subdued team. Jaume tossed his stylus to the briefing room table. "Guilty as charged."
       Barnard sat crumpled into himself. "That is the case. We did it. We burst in all happy go lucky and their cosmology didn't allow for us."
       Captain Brittian looked over the team. "So Admiral, what are you reporting to Starfleet?"
       "The truth of course. Once I get written comments from the team, we will submit the awful, nasty truth."
       Greg muttered. "But will they do anything with it?"
       Barnard said. "Greg, I wish I could tell you. If they don't, then Robin and Martin prove their worth by making a stink. I would hope that a stink was not required."
       Robin snorted in disgust. "I figure we will have to make a stink. I better start writing the stink bombs now."
       Captain Brittian said. "Don't go writing off Starfleet yet Robin. Being aware that 'cover your ass' can happen we keep an eyes wide open policy. I will place my weight behind the team report, and being an active officer, I will push for policy. I thank Admiral Barnard for coming out. But, in all due respect sir, if a fight is required, it is not an old man's fight."
       Barnard sighed. "I fear you are right. Not much fight left in me. Get us underway Captain. We have no business left on this world of woe.
       Builder Station Shipview Lounge was a new establishment, and there were not many ships to view. Jaume sat uncomfortably in a very comfortable chair. "Richard, I do not know entirely how to say this."
       Barnard sighed. "But you want to stay here."
       Jaume blinked. "How did you know?"
       Barnard smiled. "I saw the wonder in your eyes Jaume. A new world, new archeology. It called me too, but, I am old. You are young. You have many years ahead of you."
       "You do not mind this?"
       "Jaume, I have no control over you. The mission you agreed to do is over. If you see challenges here on Builder's Station that you don't see on Earth, then who am I to stop you?"
       "You are my old teacher, you are a great man. You are my friend."
       "Do as your heart calls you to do. With my blessing."
       "We will not meet again."
       "No. I am far too old for another journey into space. When I get to Earth, I am staying.
       "I will miss you."
       "Don't get all maudlin on me. We have had many days to say our peace to each other. Let us part with good memories."

       Barnard stood on the Mandalay's dock with LaSaille. The latter had his bags packed and beside him.
       Barnard said. "You're a queer bird Jerry. I don't know if I have you figured out or not."
       Jerry smiled a small smile. "When you do, let me know. Then both of us will have me figured out."
       If I might inquire, what are your plans?"
       "For several years now I have been pretty down on this race of man. I figured he was all washed up. Then I met a bunch of nice people. Funny thing, but most of the people I meet are nice. Maybe this Human race thing is full of people, nice ones, like I tend to meet. It might be time to give man another chance."
       "What kind of chance? If I can ask."
       "I have a few things that require my attention, but once they are wrapped up, I think I'll go to Earth and join Starfleet."
       "I wish you luck in it then." Said Barnard as he offered his hand.
       Jerry shook it. "Thank you, and good voyage to you."

       Doctor Mendez took another scan of Admiral Barnard. At this point he was resting easily. Captain Brittian and Robin Berry stood to the side, the rest hung back by the door.
       Captain Brittian spoke. "How is he?"
       Doctor Mendez turned from the bed. "He will make as full a recovery as a man his age can possibly make. A stroke is a serious business even with the state of modern medicine."
       Robin said. "Anything else we can do?"
       "Emotional support. There is nothing wrong with his hearing. We can help him reroute his neural pathways around the damage. It is fortunate this happened here. We have the best medical facilities you will find. Getting to him within minutes means we were able to mitigate the worst of the stroke. The few weeks left in the voyage are just what he needs for therapy."
       Robin moved up to Barnard's side. She slipped he hand under his own. "Rich, we are here for you."
       Barnard squeezed her hand.
       "Keep the faith, we'll have you back on your feet in no time."

       By the time the Mandalay reached Earth Barnard was almost back on his feet. Robin checked his cabin as the ship made orbit.
       "Got your report?"
       "Yes."
       "Are you up to it?"
       "No, Captain Brittian will present. I will sit there and look used up."
       "Rich, are you going to get maudlin now?"
       "I have a right. Hell, I can barely stand on my own."
       "Richard Barnard you are 107 years of age. Most people your age are dead! I would be grateful you can barely stand on your own. Against all odds you have completed the mission they hauled you out of mothballs to complete, and an age when most people can't even move, if they are alive. What do you really have to complain about?"
       "Since you put it that way, I suppose I have nothing to complain about. My mind is still sharp, my body grows unwilling, but it still mostly obeys." He paused, and looked deeply at the woman before him. "I have to thank you for being there."
       "I thought you considered me a pest."
       "No, not for many a year. I consider you a friend. A good honest friend who will tell it to me like it is."
       "And, well I love you too you old goat." She reached down to hug him.
       Barnard returned the hug. "Very much so Robin. Very much so."

       Philmore looked again at the report on his desk. Admiral Barnard was still in a power chair. Captain Brittian sat impassively.
       "I had a sinking feeling that this was the report I was going to get."
       Brittian said. "Is that a problem sir?"
       "Yes, and no. Yes, it's a damn big problem. We destroyed an entire culture. We didn't even have to make war on them. I'm sick to the heart. No, it's not a problem. With Admiral Barnard's name on it no one can try to deny the truth we have to accept. For that I thank you sir.
       Barnard stirred, carefully. "So, what is next?"
       "What is next is that I lay the truth before the Federation Council, and we deal. There will have to be a contact policy change. I don't know what form that will take as of yet. Admiral, what can we do for you?"
       Barnard sighed. "I want to go home."

       Richard Barnard shuffled back to his desk. The morning sun of Provence streamed through the windows. Golden fields, golden sun, it was enough to cheer anyone. He didn't feel so cheerful. Life was getting, difficult.
       The documents were on his screen. He signed off on them. The box at the foot of his desk would be on it's way tomorrow.
       He looked again at that the Starfeet document before him. General Order Number One. No contact with pre warp cultures, or interfering with a normally developing culture. He looked out the window again, birds sang, children played in the golden fields. Was this general order even enforceable? Should it be? Only time would tell. At least, it should prevent another Epsilon Thirty Cee. That, at least, would be a good thing.
       He still had so much to say, but who to say it to? There was one man, one man that would understand. Barnard brought up his will again. He made some subtle changes, signed off. He pulled the screen around.
       "Message to: Captain Howard Nelson, any assignment, any time. Storage: Starfleet archives. Activation condition: when next Captain Howard Nelson logs on to a Starfleet computer. Begin recording.
       "Howard, I don't figure I have much longer in the world. Even in the 23rd century medicine can only do so much. So, if I'm going to do this, I had better do it now.
       "I always figured they would find you sooner or later, so I dropped this in the Starfleet database, and keyed to you once confirmed news of the Grant's recovery was made. You're a survivor Howard, you'll find a way, and that's good.
       "I don't have much longer, I'll be good and gone by the time this gets to you, it might be a century, maybe two, but light only travels so fast, and ships get faster all the time. I'm betting on you. Anyway, a final message, better get to it.
       "I left your hat at the San Francisco Captain's Club. They'll keep it for you until you claim it. Been there coming on fifty years now, or sixty, I'm not sure anymore. Time, it slips away so quickly when you're old. Anyway, it's a hardened tradition by now. Starfleet's no different from anything else, once you get traditions, you can't be rid of the nuisances. Might as well use the damn things for something useful.
       "I've missed ya Howard, and I hope, in your own way, you'll remember this old man. I've had few good friends, few people I really trust. You where all of these and more. Student, teacher, fellow officer, and drinking buddy. We had our good times and bad. A better friend, no man could ask for. I still try to forgive myself for sending you off, but I don't suppose I ever will.
       "I have a few mementos I'm having put away. I hope that they will survive to reach you. They should be at the Utah Deep Storage facility, vault 737, section 137, box 45-654. It's just a bunch of junk, but it means something to me, and it will mean something to you. I have it set up so that the vultures will have to pay the storage for the next three hundred years, or get nothing! They'll pay it too, greedy bunch the lot of them. Ain't even my own kids, act like they're owed something. If it weren't for the memory of my Sister I'd disown the lot.
       "I hope you and your crew are waking into a bright future. Tell those kids to appreciate it. It's what they died to make. Yea, you're heroes around here. Pity that don't bring you back. The question you have been wanting to ask. Yes, the war is long over. Haven't had a lot of trouble since. A few people got uppity, but it was a simple matter to convince them that fighting wasn't worth the coin. The Federation is strong and at peace as of this recording. Our work, our grief, has not been in vain.
       "I might as well bring it to a close. I could ramble on for hours, but I would just say the same things over and over. Being old is a bitch. You can't remember anything. But I remembered you Howard. Good luck in that unknown future, good luck, and good bye.
       "End recording."
       Richard Barnard turned his face back to the warm golden sun. He smiled in its warmth, in spite of the chill of the room. The warmth called, and he painfully rose to move out onto the veranda. He sank gratefully into his favorite chair. The sun was indeed warm but the chill persisted. Drat these old bones. The soft summer breeze carried the laughter of the children back to his old ears as he closed his eyes, and drank in the warmth of the sun. He smiled.
       The laughter of children was the last thing he heard.

       
The Sins of the Sons -- Garry Stahl, May 2004

       This story has been kicking my ass for years. First shortly after it got a few pages old my hard drive crashed and I lost the thing. This once I got it going again the computer died and I lost momentum. Finally having gotten that back I have the thing finished after many a night of staring at the screen.
        The question of the prime directive is one that has bothered me for a long time. How did it come to pass? What action or event led Starfleet to create such an order? This tale is my explanation as to the event that lead to that Iconic rule observed more in the breach than not. This tale along with "The First Principle" are my bookends on the prime directive. My rant on the prime directive can be found here.