The prisoners were wrong.
General Iroh knew it at once. Their hair, cropped in the manner of...
General Iroh knew it at once. Their hair, cropped in the manner of...
The Flame Lances [AtLA / Star Trek] [oneshot]
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The prisoners were wrong.
General Iroh knew it at once. Their hair, cropped in the manner of outcasts, nonetheless gleamed with the healthy luster afforded only by nobles. Stranger still were their features. The man on the right, his skin an unhealthy pallor, boasted comically wide blue eyes. The man on the left...
His disfigured ears could've had any number of mundane explanation; what did not -- could not -- was this prisoner's body temperature. An aged master like Iroh could sense it through his firebending. No man could have blood so icy and still be fully conscious. It was physiologically impossible. The cold-blooded thing simply stared straight ahead. The posture was casual, relaxed even. Iroh wasn't fool enough to think the prisoner wasn't studying him just as closely in turn.
The rage Iroh had carried since the depot explosion, anger at both the irreplaceable materiel loss, vanished at once. He needed to be cautious around these chained men.
"Trespassing," Iroh began. "Impersonating an officer. Destruction of military property. These are ALL punishable by death."
Neither prisoner spoke.
"But... I am not a cruel man. If you answer my questions truthfully, you will even find me to be merciful."
The other, human prisoner glared at Iroh. "Merciful? Is that what you call burning a man alive without warning?"
"You're saboteurs," Iroh countered. "The fact we bothered taking some of your party alive to interrogate was an indulgence on the part of my soldiers."
"Surely," said the Cold Man, "the continued safety of your base would be better assured by gaining information on the source of threats to it, rather than merely neutralizing security breaches."
"Good God, man, don't give the devils advice!"
"I was merely pointing out the illogic of his statement."
"I know who you are," Iroh said. Torn from their private squabble, the prisoners glanced askance at him. "You made this." The crown prince of the Fire Nation pulled a hand out of his pocket and leveled a fire lance at the blue-eyed prisoner.
There was a moment of surprise on the man's pale face, but his expression quickly hardened. Rare was the man who could stare down the Dragon of the West, but here General Iroh found such a specimen. "Well, either shoot me or say something. Make up your mind."
"Who are you?"
"You already said you knew, remember?"
"Answer my question."
"I'm a doctor being held at gunpoint."
Iroh lowered his weapon. He couldn't help by smile tightly at the sabetour. "If the men of the Earth Kingdom had one tenth of your bravery, even these fire lances wouldn't have been enough to push through the Outer Wall."
"You'll forgive me if I don't blush, taking a compliment from a tinpot Napoleon."
The Dragon of the West filed that strange title away for a future interrogation. "Those who crafted a device with the power of one hundred firebenders should possess equal spirit. Who else but a superior breed could fashion such technology?" The general turned over the foreign weapon in his hands. Its sleek grey and black exterior belied the raw destructive force sleeping within. "Our people are alike in that way, even if yours chooses to hide away across the sea while my kind seeks our rightful place under the sun."
"Across the sea...?"
"There's no sense denying it." Boyish wonder surged within Iroh. The Setting Sun Sea covered a whole half of the globe; so vast it hopelessly wrecked any map that tried to incorporate it to scale. Why waste half your parchment with featureless blue ink when the Four Nations were all that was important? Yet there had always been myths of about the Setting Sun Sea. Lost continents and lion-turtles alike were said to make their home there. As Iroh well knew from the Sun Warriors, there was far more to the world than common knowledge claimed.
"The general is correct," said the Cold Man to his companion. "Denying the obvious would be impertinent, Doctor."
"Ah. Right."
"I must admit," Iroh said, "that I'm almost more curious about your homeland than I am about these fire lances. What do your people even call themselves?"
Neither prisoner spoke.
Iroh pointed the fire lance between their chairs and pulled the trigger. A shrieking beam of blue light shot out, blasting a cabbage-sized hole in the stone ground.
Iroh shifted his aim to the blue-eyed man's left foot.
"The Federation," the Cold Man answered, tone still bland and impersonal. "We call ourselves the Federation."
"A federation of... what? Islands? Cities?" How big was the homeland of these strangers? Iroh had to know. Given their marvelous weapons, this Federation was also the greatest potential threat to his people since the Avatar. They were clearly protective of the fruits of their industry.
"Nations," said the blue-eyed man. "It's a federation of nations."
"Which nation rules this Federation?" The notion that there were Fire Nationals who spurned rule by their rightful lord was simply hateful. They had to be oppressing his kin that clearly lived among them. Who else could fashion such an ingenious weapon as the fire lance but Iroh's own race?
"No one nation rules the Federation," the Cold Man explained. "Everyone has an equal voice in our government."
Iroh opened his mouth to scoff at that, then caught himself. The truth was obvious if you gave it a half-second's thought. "Who runs the military?" That was where the real authority had to lie.
"Officers and non-commissioned officers are welcomed from all members of the Federation, just as they are in all other walks of life."
"Don't be ridiculous!"
"Is it so hard to believe?" The blue-eyed man gestured to his partner as much as he could, chained as he was to an interrogation chair. "Take this pointy-earred hobgoblin. His mother is from Earth, like me, but his father is from Vulcan."
The Cold Man added, "Your own nation practices multiculturalism. We talked with soldiers from your colonies. Some of them had wives and children who are geokinetics."
"Geok—earthbenders? Those are the colonies," Iroh countered, "and just because it's not practical to ban intermarriage there doesn't make miscegenation morally right."
"God Almighty," said the blue-eyed man, voice thick with disgust, "do you ever listen to the hot air coming out of your mouth?"
"Who are you to lecture a prince of the Fire Nation on morals? You snuck inside this camp to destroy what the Fire Nation lawfully salvaged from that airship crash. You failed." Iroh raised the fire lance at the blue-eyed man's chest. "And now you're going to make up for it."
"The hell we are!"
"You're in no position to argue," Iroh said. "Escape is impossible. If you think that the Earth Army is going to save you then you're dead wrong. You may have destroyed most of our fire lances, but this," he waved his weapon, "and the others will be more than enough to hold back Kuei's hordes."
The Cold Man cocked an eyebrow. "If those 'fire lances' are indeed enough to hold the line, then why are you asking us to provide more of them?"
"Because more is better!" Iroh laughed, but his smile quickly waned. "It took five of these fire lances to crack the Outer Wall. With fifty of them, the war would be over in weeks. No rebellion could ever hope to resist us. The world would have eternal peace within our lifetimes."
Iroh had never dared hope for such a thing, before the fire lances had come into his hands. The thought of losing that future was too bitter to endure.
"There is a crude logic to argumentum ad baculum," the Cold Man admitted, "but I am afraid that your thesis has two fatal flaws. First, not only will we not teach you how to build 'fire lances', but we cannot supply them to you. Every officer of the Federation swears an oath to sacrifice their life if necessary rather than let our technology fall into the hands of developing cultures. Torturing us will prove quite fruitless."
Iroh said, "Your superiors--"
"Will honor our sacrifice." Nothing in the Cold Man's tone, nor in his blue-eye companion's stony expression, suggested falsehood. "Second, there were exactly seven 'fire lances' aboard the crashed shuttlecraft your troops found. We confiscated the one sent back to the War Ministry laboratory in your capital along with the rest of the shuttle salvage, and we set the five you used here at Ba Sing Se to self-destruct. That means the one you are pointing at us is the last one left. Judging by the indicator light, the battery is almost drained. Thus your claim that you can hold off the impending attack of the Earth Kingdom 'horde' is an empty one."
"NO!" Iroh shouted, arm trembling with rage—and fear. "My soldiers have families! Wives! Children! Your fire lances are the only thing that can save them!"
"You're wrong," said a new voice.
Iroh wheeled around. A fire lance screeched, and it was not his own. He roared in pain, dropping a his half-melted fire lance, and clutched a blistered hand.
The newcomer held his weapon on Iroh, but the killing blow never came. Instead the newcomer used his free hand to remove the skull plate face guard from his stolen uniform. There was no hatred in the man's wide hazel eyes, only concern for his comrades.
"In the corner," he ordered Iroh. "Nice and slow."
The general obeyed.
"Took you long enough," the blue-eyed man grunted.
"Apologies, Bones. Security's been pretty tight. Fortunately the locals just launched a counterattack in the east. Do you need a hand?"
The Cold Man snapped out of his restraints: left arm, right arm, left leg, right leg. He moved over to the blue-eyed man and broke the steel restrains with his bare hands.
"Or not," said the newcomer. He looked back at Iroh. "You claimed you were concerned for your men's lives. Prove it. Pull back behind the Outer Wall. Break the siege."
"And then what?" Iroh asked, suddenly feeling very tired. "We'll never be able to conquer Ba Sing Se until the comet returns, and then millions will die. The world's greatest and most ancient city will be burnt to ashes. The fire lances were our only chance to take the city bloodlessly."
"There's never anything bloodless about war," the newcomer declared. "If you're as concerned for the people of Ba Sing Se as you say you are, end the war. Make peace with them."
Iroh laughed mirthlessly. "You make it sound so easy. Should I just invite the Earth King over for tea and a friendly game of pai sho?"
"It's not easy. Peace never is. But what's the alternative? Death. Destruction. A battle without victors, a war to end all wars, with only the hollow-eyed survivors left to eek out their lives amidst the rubble of shattered dreams. Is that really the glorious, honorable cause you've dedicated your life for? Is that the world you want for your son?"
Iroh said nothing.
"And even if you win this war, despite the price in blood, what about the future? Do you think you can keep the whole world under your boot heel forever? The people of the Earth Kingdom will rise up, one day. Because if there's one universal truth about the human race, it's that our spirit is indomitable."
"And despite what you might think to the contrary," the blue-eyed man added, "shooting fire from your fists doesn't make you a separate species, let alone a superior one. You and your enemies are human, just like the rest of us." He glanced at the Cold Man. "Present company excepted."
The Cold Man nodded in silent thanks.
The hazel-eyed man reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black and gold rectangle. "I've heard your men talk highly of you, General Iroh. They'd walk barefoot through Hell itself if you give the word. Choose peace. They'll support you."
"...I'm sorry, but it's too late for peace."
"Is that doubt I hear?" The hazel-eyed man raised the black-and-gold box to smiling lips. "Kirk to Enterprise. Three to beam up."
The music of unseen instruments filled the air, and the three foreigners dissolved into starlight. Slowly, hesitantly, Iroh stepped out of his corner and moved over to where they had stood. He reached out with trembling fingers and grasped empty air.
Afterward, General Iroh returned to his command tent in a daze. His entire staff had already gathered there in silence. There was no sound of fighting in the distance, so the earthbenders' probe had clearly been repulsed. This time. Iroh opened his mouth to explain the catastrophic loss of their last fire lance, of their prisoners, of what he had seen and learned, but couldn't find the words.
And then the Dragon of the West noticed that Major Mongke was cradling Lu Ten's battered helmet in his hands.
Captain's log, stardate 5992.8. The recovery of Shuttlecraft Kurihama is complete. With the natives deprived of their 'fire lances', we leave Bryke-4 behind to continue its endless war.
"Good riddance," Bones said. On the main viewscreen, this week's strange new world was already receding beyond visual range. "I never imagined there were so many ways a body could be burned or crushed, but I suppose even barbarians can teach you something new."
An arched eyebrow. "Barbarians, Doctor? The Brykians hardly lacked the organization and social structure the label of 'barbarian' implies."
"That's what makes it so terrible, Spock. The same people who built something magnificent like that Outer Wall could fight and murder each other for a hundred years."
"According to our best reconstruction of historical records: ninety-five years, four months, nineteen—"
"That's not the point, you pointy-earred hobgoblin!"
The captain swiveled around in his chair. "Bones, Spock is right."
"The hell he is!"
"My logic is perfectly transparent, Doctor."
"Who are we to damn them as barbarians?" James T. Kirk posed his doctor friend. "The Post-Atomic Horror. The Eugenics Wars. World War Two. We were killers once upon a time, Bones, but we learned to listen to the better angels of our nature. Maybe General Iroh will too."
"We didn't go in reverse, Jim. The thing that makes me sore is how the Brykians didn't even used to fight all the time."
Spock nodded. "Ah yes, the Avatar. A fascinating religious concept, Doctor, but one lacking in evidence."
McCoy snorted in derision. "Faith isn't about logic, Spock! Those people held up peace and diplomacy as the ultimate virtues, had their holy figure champion them, and then they lost it all to one madman's ambition."
Kirk pointed at his Southern friend. "And faith is exactly the point, Bones. The Brykians lived in peace once, and maybe one day they will again. We have to hope they'll remember the virtues you admired from their history."
"I suppose so, Jim. But they know how destructive science can become. What's to stop them from learning to build their own wonder weapons now?"
"Nothing," Spock replied. "Yet logic dictates that there is nothing to stop General Iroh from spreading knowledge about the Federation's belief in infinite diversity in infinite combinations. The Brykians could very well make the 'United Federation of Nations' a reality."
Captain Kirk grinned. "That sounds more like faith than logic, Spock."
"Who knows?" asked Bones. "We might just make a human out of you yet."
Everyone laughed, except for Spock.
General Iroh knew it at once. Their hair, cropped in the manner of outcasts, nonetheless gleamed with the healthy luster afforded only by nobles. Stranger still were their features. The man on the right, his skin an unhealthy pallor, boasted comically wide blue eyes. The man on the left...
His disfigured ears could've had any number of mundane explanation; what did not -- could not -- was this prisoner's body temperature. An aged master like Iroh could sense it through his firebending. No man could have blood so icy and still be fully conscious. It was physiologically impossible. The cold-blooded thing simply stared straight ahead. The posture was casual, relaxed even. Iroh wasn't fool enough to think the prisoner wasn't studying him just as closely in turn.
The rage Iroh had carried since the depot explosion, anger at both the irreplaceable materiel loss, vanished at once. He needed to be cautious around these chained men.
"Trespassing," Iroh began. "Impersonating an officer. Destruction of military property. These are ALL punishable by death."
Neither prisoner spoke.
"But... I am not a cruel man. If you answer my questions truthfully, you will even find me to be merciful."
The other, human prisoner glared at Iroh. "Merciful? Is that what you call burning a man alive without warning?"
"You're saboteurs," Iroh countered. "The fact we bothered taking some of your party alive to interrogate was an indulgence on the part of my soldiers."
"Surely," said the Cold Man, "the continued safety of your base would be better assured by gaining information on the source of threats to it, rather than merely neutralizing security breaches."
"Good God, man, don't give the devils advice!"
"I was merely pointing out the illogic of his statement."
"I know who you are," Iroh said. Torn from their private squabble, the prisoners glanced askance at him. "You made this." The crown prince of the Fire Nation pulled a hand out of his pocket and leveled a fire lance at the blue-eyed prisoner.
There was a moment of surprise on the man's pale face, but his expression quickly hardened. Rare was the man who could stare down the Dragon of the West, but here General Iroh found such a specimen. "Well, either shoot me or say something. Make up your mind."
"Who are you?"
"You already said you knew, remember?"
"Answer my question."
"I'm a doctor being held at gunpoint."
Iroh lowered his weapon. He couldn't help by smile tightly at the sabetour. "If the men of the Earth Kingdom had one tenth of your bravery, even these fire lances wouldn't have been enough to push through the Outer Wall."
"You'll forgive me if I don't blush, taking a compliment from a tinpot Napoleon."
The Dragon of the West filed that strange title away for a future interrogation. "Those who crafted a device with the power of one hundred firebenders should possess equal spirit. Who else but a superior breed could fashion such technology?" The general turned over the foreign weapon in his hands. Its sleek grey and black exterior belied the raw destructive force sleeping within. "Our people are alike in that way, even if yours chooses to hide away across the sea while my kind seeks our rightful place under the sun."
"Across the sea...?"
"There's no sense denying it." Boyish wonder surged within Iroh. The Setting Sun Sea covered a whole half of the globe; so vast it hopelessly wrecked any map that tried to incorporate it to scale. Why waste half your parchment with featureless blue ink when the Four Nations were all that was important? Yet there had always been myths of about the Setting Sun Sea. Lost continents and lion-turtles alike were said to make their home there. As Iroh well knew from the Sun Warriors, there was far more to the world than common knowledge claimed.
"The general is correct," said the Cold Man to his companion. "Denying the obvious would be impertinent, Doctor."
"Ah. Right."
"I must admit," Iroh said, "that I'm almost more curious about your homeland than I am about these fire lances. What do your people even call themselves?"
Neither prisoner spoke.
Iroh pointed the fire lance between their chairs and pulled the trigger. A shrieking beam of blue light shot out, blasting a cabbage-sized hole in the stone ground.
Iroh shifted his aim to the blue-eyed man's left foot.
"The Federation," the Cold Man answered, tone still bland and impersonal. "We call ourselves the Federation."
"A federation of... what? Islands? Cities?" How big was the homeland of these strangers? Iroh had to know. Given their marvelous weapons, this Federation was also the greatest potential threat to his people since the Avatar. They were clearly protective of the fruits of their industry.
"Nations," said the blue-eyed man. "It's a federation of nations."
"Which nation rules this Federation?" The notion that there were Fire Nationals who spurned rule by their rightful lord was simply hateful. They had to be oppressing his kin that clearly lived among them. Who else could fashion such an ingenious weapon as the fire lance but Iroh's own race?
"No one nation rules the Federation," the Cold Man explained. "Everyone has an equal voice in our government."
Iroh opened his mouth to scoff at that, then caught himself. The truth was obvious if you gave it a half-second's thought. "Who runs the military?" That was where the real authority had to lie.
"Officers and non-commissioned officers are welcomed from all members of the Federation, just as they are in all other walks of life."
"Don't be ridiculous!"
"Is it so hard to believe?" The blue-eyed man gestured to his partner as much as he could, chained as he was to an interrogation chair. "Take this pointy-earred hobgoblin. His mother is from Earth, like me, but his father is from Vulcan."
The Cold Man added, "Your own nation practices multiculturalism. We talked with soldiers from your colonies. Some of them had wives and children who are geokinetics."
"Geok—earthbenders? Those are the colonies," Iroh countered, "and just because it's not practical to ban intermarriage there doesn't make miscegenation morally right."
"God Almighty," said the blue-eyed man, voice thick with disgust, "do you ever listen to the hot air coming out of your mouth?"
"Who are you to lecture a prince of the Fire Nation on morals? You snuck inside this camp to destroy what the Fire Nation lawfully salvaged from that airship crash. You failed." Iroh raised the fire lance at the blue-eyed man's chest. "And now you're going to make up for it."
"The hell we are!"
"You're in no position to argue," Iroh said. "Escape is impossible. If you think that the Earth Army is going to save you then you're dead wrong. You may have destroyed most of our fire lances, but this," he waved his weapon, "and the others will be more than enough to hold back Kuei's hordes."
The Cold Man cocked an eyebrow. "If those 'fire lances' are indeed enough to hold the line, then why are you asking us to provide more of them?"
"Because more is better!" Iroh laughed, but his smile quickly waned. "It took five of these fire lances to crack the Outer Wall. With fifty of them, the war would be over in weeks. No rebellion could ever hope to resist us. The world would have eternal peace within our lifetimes."
Iroh had never dared hope for such a thing, before the fire lances had come into his hands. The thought of losing that future was too bitter to endure.
"There is a crude logic to argumentum ad baculum," the Cold Man admitted, "but I am afraid that your thesis has two fatal flaws. First, not only will we not teach you how to build 'fire lances', but we cannot supply them to you. Every officer of the Federation swears an oath to sacrifice their life if necessary rather than let our technology fall into the hands of developing cultures. Torturing us will prove quite fruitless."
Iroh said, "Your superiors--"
"Will honor our sacrifice." Nothing in the Cold Man's tone, nor in his blue-eye companion's stony expression, suggested falsehood. "Second, there were exactly seven 'fire lances' aboard the crashed shuttlecraft your troops found. We confiscated the one sent back to the War Ministry laboratory in your capital along with the rest of the shuttle salvage, and we set the five you used here at Ba Sing Se to self-destruct. That means the one you are pointing at us is the last one left. Judging by the indicator light, the battery is almost drained. Thus your claim that you can hold off the impending attack of the Earth Kingdom 'horde' is an empty one."
"NO!" Iroh shouted, arm trembling with rage—and fear. "My soldiers have families! Wives! Children! Your fire lances are the only thing that can save them!"
"You're wrong," said a new voice.
Iroh wheeled around. A fire lance screeched, and it was not his own. He roared in pain, dropping a his half-melted fire lance, and clutched a blistered hand.
The newcomer held his weapon on Iroh, but the killing blow never came. Instead the newcomer used his free hand to remove the skull plate face guard from his stolen uniform. There was no hatred in the man's wide hazel eyes, only concern for his comrades.
"In the corner," he ordered Iroh. "Nice and slow."
The general obeyed.
"Took you long enough," the blue-eyed man grunted.
"Apologies, Bones. Security's been pretty tight. Fortunately the locals just launched a counterattack in the east. Do you need a hand?"
The Cold Man snapped out of his restraints: left arm, right arm, left leg, right leg. He moved over to the blue-eyed man and broke the steel restrains with his bare hands.
"Or not," said the newcomer. He looked back at Iroh. "You claimed you were concerned for your men's lives. Prove it. Pull back behind the Outer Wall. Break the siege."
"And then what?" Iroh asked, suddenly feeling very tired. "We'll never be able to conquer Ba Sing Se until the comet returns, and then millions will die. The world's greatest and most ancient city will be burnt to ashes. The fire lances were our only chance to take the city bloodlessly."
"There's never anything bloodless about war," the newcomer declared. "If you're as concerned for the people of Ba Sing Se as you say you are, end the war. Make peace with them."
Iroh laughed mirthlessly. "You make it sound so easy. Should I just invite the Earth King over for tea and a friendly game of pai sho?"
"It's not easy. Peace never is. But what's the alternative? Death. Destruction. A battle without victors, a war to end all wars, with only the hollow-eyed survivors left to eek out their lives amidst the rubble of shattered dreams. Is that really the glorious, honorable cause you've dedicated your life for? Is that the world you want for your son?"
Iroh said nothing.
"And even if you win this war, despite the price in blood, what about the future? Do you think you can keep the whole world under your boot heel forever? The people of the Earth Kingdom will rise up, one day. Because if there's one universal truth about the human race, it's that our spirit is indomitable."
"And despite what you might think to the contrary," the blue-eyed man added, "shooting fire from your fists doesn't make you a separate species, let alone a superior one. You and your enemies are human, just like the rest of us." He glanced at the Cold Man. "Present company excepted."
The Cold Man nodded in silent thanks.
The hazel-eyed man reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black and gold rectangle. "I've heard your men talk highly of you, General Iroh. They'd walk barefoot through Hell itself if you give the word. Choose peace. They'll support you."
"...I'm sorry, but it's too late for peace."
"Is that doubt I hear?" The hazel-eyed man raised the black-and-gold box to smiling lips. "Kirk to Enterprise. Three to beam up."
The music of unseen instruments filled the air, and the three foreigners dissolved into starlight. Slowly, hesitantly, Iroh stepped out of his corner and moved over to where they had stood. He reached out with trembling fingers and grasped empty air.
Afterward, General Iroh returned to his command tent in a daze. His entire staff had already gathered there in silence. There was no sound of fighting in the distance, so the earthbenders' probe had clearly been repulsed. This time. Iroh opened his mouth to explain the catastrophic loss of their last fire lance, of their prisoners, of what he had seen and learned, but couldn't find the words.
And then the Dragon of the West noticed that Major Mongke was cradling Lu Ten's battered helmet in his hands.
* * * * *
Captain's log, stardate 5992.8. The recovery of Shuttlecraft Kurihama is complete. With the natives deprived of their 'fire lances', we leave Bryke-4 behind to continue its endless war.
"Good riddance," Bones said. On the main viewscreen, this week's strange new world was already receding beyond visual range. "I never imagined there were so many ways a body could be burned or crushed, but I suppose even barbarians can teach you something new."
An arched eyebrow. "Barbarians, Doctor? The Brykians hardly lacked the organization and social structure the label of 'barbarian' implies."
"That's what makes it so terrible, Spock. The same people who built something magnificent like that Outer Wall could fight and murder each other for a hundred years."
"According to our best reconstruction of historical records: ninety-five years, four months, nineteen—"
"That's not the point, you pointy-earred hobgoblin!"
The captain swiveled around in his chair. "Bones, Spock is right."
"The hell he is!"
"My logic is perfectly transparent, Doctor."
"Who are we to damn them as barbarians?" James T. Kirk posed his doctor friend. "The Post-Atomic Horror. The Eugenics Wars. World War Two. We were killers once upon a time, Bones, but we learned to listen to the better angels of our nature. Maybe General Iroh will too."
"We didn't go in reverse, Jim. The thing that makes me sore is how the Brykians didn't even used to fight all the time."
Spock nodded. "Ah yes, the Avatar. A fascinating religious concept, Doctor, but one lacking in evidence."
McCoy snorted in derision. "Faith isn't about logic, Spock! Those people held up peace and diplomacy as the ultimate virtues, had their holy figure champion them, and then they lost it all to one madman's ambition."
Kirk pointed at his Southern friend. "And faith is exactly the point, Bones. The Brykians lived in peace once, and maybe one day they will again. We have to hope they'll remember the virtues you admired from their history."
"I suppose so, Jim. But they know how destructive science can become. What's to stop them from learning to build their own wonder weapons now?"
"Nothing," Spock replied. "Yet logic dictates that there is nothing to stop General Iroh from spreading knowledge about the Federation's belief in infinite diversity in infinite combinations. The Brykians could very well make the 'United Federation of Nations' a reality."
Captain Kirk grinned. "That sounds more like faith than logic, Spock."
"Who knows?" asked Bones. "We might just make a human out of you yet."
Everyone laughed, except for Spock.
Castle_Bravo
The user formerly known as Nuke_Equestria
You should really expand on this. It has the makings of a classic Star Trek story.
Finagle007
[Verified Great Old One]
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Ah, classic Star Trek, how I love thee. That was when Roddenberry really knew how to write...
Jim Starluck
CO, ICS Vanguard
- Location
- Cincinnati, OH
But it can't be a one-shot! We need a TNG episode where they come back during Korra's time as Avatar (which will be about 20 years in her future if I'm doing my math right) and see how the primitive civilization was affected by the TOS visit! 
Castle_Bravo
The user formerly known as Nuke_Equestria
What we really need is a Star Trek/Legend of Korra/The Mote in God's Eye crossover.
PhoenixFTW
Insert Witty One-Liner Here
- Location
- Minnesota
Easily one of the best Star Trek stories I've ever read. I really want this to continue, but part of why I think it's so good is its brevity. I'm so conflicted...