Heart Song. The Starship Enterprise entered geostationary orbit of Burras II at 0800 hours and the senior staff met in the observation room for a briefing. Captain Jean-Luc Picard looked over his fellow officers with satisfaction. They were, he knew, the best in the fleet. With but a look he garnered their attention. “As you know, Starfleet has had a secret outpost on Burras II for two years now. We have been observing the cultural ramifications of the inhabitants developing projectile weapons. At present, there are three scientists down on the planet, secreted in a holographic blind. We received word…via Star Base 182 that they need to be evacuated. Apparently the replicators are off line and they are suffering some form of illness.” Turning to Lieutenant Commander Geordie LaForge, the Captain outlaid his plans. “Commander I want you to repair the replicators and provide any Engineering help they might need. Will, due to the ionising radiation we can’t use the transporter. You will have to pilot a shuttle and put down in a secluded spot.” Commander Will Riker, First Officer of the ship nodded to his Captain. “Yes Sir. We’ve got a place in mind.” “Good. Data I want you to establish a reliable communication method with them. Until recently they have been unable to transmit. Their last message was to a passing ship by short wave radio. Not very efficient and dangerous. The inhabitants have a communication system of their own. It would be disastrous if they picked up a stray transmission.” The android second officer accepted his Captain’s bidding. “Sir it may take some time to devise a system strong enough to punch through the interference without alerting the population. I would envisage it may take some days.” “Well get on it Mr.Data. We need to be able to communicate with them. Beverly apparently one of the team members has been unwell. When we bring them aboard she will need medical attention.” Beverly Crusher, Chief Medical Officer consulted her PADD. “Yes. With the replicators down they have been eating the local food. Gastroenteritis seems to be the culprit.” “Of course and crew who go down to the planet will have to be surgically altered to match the native population. We can’t risk falling into the hands of any factions” Beverly frowned and asked, “So does it look like conflict is brewing?” “Unfortunately yes. Both sides have perfected projectile weapons and there is a push for the northern clans to take the fertile lands from the southern clans. Apparently arbitration has failed and war seems to be the impending outcome.” Beverly sighed, the physician in her hating the thought of the horrors of war. “And we can’t intervene…?” No. The Prime Directive is quite clear. We can’t…” “So we just sit back and watch while they annihilate each other.” “Doctor…” “I know…I know, just don’t expect me to like it!” Jean-Luc drew himself up and surveyed his staff. “Well you have your assignments. Report to me when you’re ready. Dismissed.”
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