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gain control over such powerful information, lest it be abused in some way.”  
    “Yeah,” Marks added. “Who knows what he could do with that knowledge.”
    “The topic of Eshel putting this ship at risk has already been covered at length,” Steele replied coldly to Marks. “I am referring now to protecting Eshel from us.”
    Just as Marks was to retort, the Captain put her hand up to silence him. “Ov’Raa?”
    “Yes, Captain. The Korvali guard their genetic technology even more closely than their citizens, and they have shared very little of their knowledge.”  
    “Don’t the Korvali attend those scientific summits on Suna?” Ferguson said.
    “They do,” Steele said. “On rare occasion. But they never share their methods. This refusal has ruffled the feathers of the interstellar scientific community and contributes to preventing the Korvali from inclusion in the Alliance. However, it is their knowledge, and their choice. We cannot expect Eshel to violate Korvali Doctrine simply because we gave him asylum. Even if he chose to, without necessary regulations the implications could be far-reaching and disastrous.”
    Ferguson let out an exasperated sigh. “So he shares what he knows. Isn’t the entire purpose of science to share one’s discoveries for the betterment of society?”
    “Manipulating genetic material doesn’t always result in the ‘betterment’ of society, Captain, which is why we have an extensive body of laws governing it,” Steele said. “The Korvali appear to be more advanced than us in genetics. They deserve dominion over their intellectual property. They may forgive our housing one of their scientists, but stealing their innovations will bring certain retaliation.” He paused. “However, if that does not convince you, may I remind all of you of the Nystrom incident that occurred five years ago? A genetic technologist—not to be confused with a genetic scientist—sold ninety-two people a gene therapy that would purportedly make them taller. All ninety-two died. When the authorities investigated, they found that the therapy came from Korvali sources.”
    Ferguson nodded. “Yes. I recall that incident.”  
    “What the hell is a genetic technologist?” Vargas asked. “A fancy name for a lab worker?”
    “They’re known as ‘biocrackers’,” Catherine said. “They hack into others’ information systems, steal their biological patents, and attempt to recreate and sell them illegally—”  
    “The point is,” Steele interrupted, “that such powerful information in the wrong hands could lead to similar incidents. And with Eshel aboard, any misuse of genetic material would have Alliance and Korvali authorities questioning you and myself, Captain.”  
    Ferguson sighed again, glancing at the time. “We’ve opened Pandora’s Box here. Until we can discuss this in detail, Eshel must refrain from sharing any of his knowledge with anyone, until further orders. In addition, the proceedings from this meeting shall not be discussed with anyone, until further orders. You’re dismissed.”

    Catherine sat at the desk in her tiny office, reading a new paper on epigenetic engineering methods. She heard a double chirp, which meant that the Captain or XO had sent an alert. She checked her contactor:

    Attention all crewpersons:

    Three days ago, we responded to an SOS from a ship with 10 Korvali citizens aboard. Nine didn’t survive the journey from Korvalis, but one is alive and has requested asylum with our organization. His request has been approved.  

    This Korvali citizen, whose name is Eshel, will live and work among us. You are expected to treat him with the same respect afforded any other member of this organization.  

    Commander Yamamoto
    Executive Officer

    A few minutes later, her contactor gave a single chirp. A message, from Commander Steele.  
    My office. Immediately.
    A glimmer of anticipation rose in her. Someone needed to advise the brass on Eshel’s