Birth of a Race
By, Serene Miller
Confederation of Planets – Historical Record
5.2401, File Location A.P.T.34D6
Subject: Relocation of Species Tora.3A to 3E
Completion
Toran
Interstellar Date: 3146.3.07 Location:
Hermes Moon Homer (Toran Stargraph 41.002)
“What in the multiverse is
this?” Dr. Brenner studied the feline
creature with disbelieving eyes. “It
almost looks like a Siamese cat!”
“That’s because it is a Siamese!” Dr Hepner swiveled on his metal chair to face
his newly arrived colleague.
“But that’s impossible!” argued Dr.
Brenner. “Why, this creature is a full three feet tall at the shoulder blades!”
Smiling and nodding, Dr, Hepner
responded, “That is an excellent guess, Doctor!
In fact, Cleo is three feet, two and one half inches tall.”
A shocked look appeared on Dr.
Brenner’s face. “A local species, I’d
gather?” he asked. “Quite similar to the
Siamese, I agree!”
“No, Doctor.” Hepner continued only after he was sure he
had the other’s attention, “This is indeed the species of Siamese, saved from
Earth One several millennia ago. Cleo’s
great grandmother was born on Taurus, in the great city of Gallea itself!”
Dr. Brenner turned back to the
large, caged pen and kneeled in front of it.
Cleo immediately trotted over, putting her muzzle to the cage and
attempting to lick the doctor.
“There
are treats on the counter,” Hepner informed him.
Brenner
stood, walked over and gathered a few of the treats, and returned to the
cage. He knelt again and offered the
huge cat one of the treats. Cleo took it, gently but with enthusiasm. “Growth hormones?”he asked Dr. Hepner.
“Yes, Siamese growth hormones,” he
agreed. “So far.”
“Whatever for?”Brenner asked. “What
use could you possibly have for giant cats?
And what do you mean, ‘so far’?”
Hepner took his time responding. He hadn’t meant to get deeper into this
conversation so soon, though he had known it would be a possibility. “My intention is to create a species strong
enough to survive with the other wildlife on Hermes.” The half-truth, he decided, would suffice for
now.
“My word!” Brenner fed a second treat to the big cat and
rubbed its neck. The responding purr was
loud enough to jolt the doctor into a small scream himself.
Hepner chuckled. “Don’t worry, Doctor; Cleo is as gentle as a
small kitten.”
Brenner returned to rubbing Cleo’s
neck. After a moment, he spoke
again. “I hadn’t realized the Science
Office[1] had sanctioned this type
of biological research on Hermes.”
Again Hepner chuckled – and hoped it sounded
genuine. “Why else would they send me,
Dr, Brenner?”
“Yes, of course.” Brenner stood and wiped off his knees. He extended a hand. “I think we’ll work well together, Dr, Hepner.”
“Yes, of course.” Brenner stood and wiped off his knees. He extended a hand. “I think we’ll work well together, Dr, Hepner.”
Hepner quickly took the proffered
hand and shook it. “Welcome aboard the
H-BARL[2] again, Doctor. I agree; we’ll get along just fine!”
“Now if you wouldn’t mind,” Brenner
said, “I would like to wash up?”
“Of course! RAYNOR!”
At the doctor’s shout, a multi-wheeled robot appeared from around a half-wall.
“Your command, Doctor Hepner?” the
Robot inquired.
“This is Doctor Brenner; log him in
as reporting, and show him to his quarters, please.”
“As you command,” the robot
responded. Turning to the new arrival,
it added, “Welcome, Doctor Myron Phillip Brenner. You have been logged into the station’s
mainframe. If you will follow me, I will
show you to your quarters.”
As the mechanical man turned toward
one of the three halls leading away from the lab, Brenner said to Hepner,
“Model S-37! I had a hard time getting a
35 approved!”
Hepner genuinely laughed. “Well, it does help to have a Hawkins Award
winning daughter working in Science Command Central!”
Both men laughed heartily, then
Brenner made his departure, following RAYNOR down the hallway.
After Brenner was out of sight,
Hepner returned to his desk and sat down heavily. Thinking of his daughter always brought on a
mix of emotions. Love of course; he
missed her terribly. It had been nearly
seven years since they were together. At the Oron Convention, he
recalled. But he also felt some
jealousy; his daughter had been heavily honored by the Confederation, while his
own work had went relatively unnoticed by the ‘Powers That Be’. His work went far deeper than that of his
daughter, but hers showed quick return, while his own was of a type that most
would never even hear about.
Academically, Dr, Jules Terrence
Hepner was considered the best in his field.
Unfortunately, that field was Molecular Bioengineering. One of the most prominent and desired forms
of research – in the medical field. In
most other areas, it had either been banned or restricted. His very own research had actually led to the
legislation that has restricted Bioengineering; all projects of that nature
must be approved by the Science Office.
That reminded Hepner to check the
outgoing umail[3]
filter. Satisfied, he activated it, then
powered down his work station. He leant
back in his swivel chair – a gift from his daughter. He spent the next few hours silently contemplating whether or not it was safe to move to the
next stage in his feline bioengineering program, and if involving Brenner would
be a safe idea.
Toran
Interstellar Date: 3146.6.28 Location:
Hermes Moon Homer (Toran Stargraph 41.002)
Dr.
Brenner remembered to duck his head when entering the lab. He had hit his head on the low clearance
three times already. That’s what you get for being so tall!
Hepner thought to himself, chuckling silently.
Out of the corner of his eye, Hepner watched Brenner slowly lower
himself into is work station and power it up.
Something in his movements struck Hepner as… odd. Without letting the
other doctor to be out of his peripheral vision, he continued his work. Today, he was typing up his observations on
the station’s plant gene splicing
experiment.
Hepner was aware of Brenner’s
nervousness, though he didn’t know why the man should be worried about
anything.. Brenner opened drawers, only
to immediately close them. He picked up
a stylus – only to set it down again. He
adjusted items on his desk over and over.
He could take no more. Hepner threw his stylus to the desk and
swiveled to face Brenner. Before he
could speak, though, Hepner had turned and spoke first.
“We need to talk, Dr. Hepner.” His tone caught Hepner off guard. Brenner was a soft-spoken man, but the tone
was one of a man about to give a stern lecture.
“Yes, Dr. Brenner?” Hepner cursed himself. Too innocent-sounding! That’s
not like you!
“I’ve had some questions concerning
your Feline Growth & Genetic Development program.”
Shit. Hepner was able to keep his face stoic. “Anything I can answer, I’d be more than
happy to.”
“Well, I was quite surprised that
the Science Office had approved that sort of experimentation.”
“I did show you the Proposal and
Acceptance file.”
“Yes, and at first that appeased
me,” Brenner responded.
“And you are no longer… appeased?” Now Hepner was starting to get perturbed.
“Well, its other things. Things –
and I’m not saying I was keeping my eyes on you – but things I witnessed.”
“Like?”
“For instance,” Brenner began with
little hesitation, “I noticed how often you were giving Cleo and the other
smaller cats hormone injections. It just
seemed too often to be of use.”
Hepner chuckled, sure he had hit a
realistic one. “I wish you had spoken
up; you are quite correct! Shorter time
periods between inoculations was not helping.
I have made a new, more realistic schedule.” He was certain he sounded believable.
“Then there was the umails.”
Hepner tried to look perplexed. “I’m afraid I don’t understand?”
“I wrote a colleague, Dr. Singleton
at Southern Tora University, asking him his opinion about this type of
experimentation.”
“Frankly Doctor, that seems a breach
of professional etiquette. I
specifically told you the experiments were strictly on a ‘Need to Know’ basis.”
“I did not mention any specific projects, Dr. Hepner, I
only asked for his general opinion.”
Brenner pretended to need something
on his desk that he was searching for as he asked, “So, what was Dr.
Singleton’s response?”
“Well, that’s just it; he didn’t
respond. When I sent a second brief
umail, he responded he had never received the first.”
Hepner shrugged, swiveling back
again, holding – my supply request
list. Ugh. “It happens, umails are lost all the time.
“Yes,” Brenner nodded, “which is why
I resent the original. I should be
hearing back from him today or tomorrow.”
It’ll
be today, Hepner thought as he nodded.
I’ve already wrote Dr. Singleton’s
response, and I’ve only held it in respect to Dr. Singleton’s busy schedule. When his filter program noted the resend, it
alerted Dr. Brenner. Realizing it needed
a response, he created one himself. Few people knew he held a Masters in
Computer program as well as his two Biology–related PhDs. It was rather easy for him to accurately
recreate the good Dr. Singleton’s umail and send it - apparently
from the University’s server. He had
also figured it wise to have the professor emphatically state he did not agree with
such “dangerous research”, while noting that, as Dr. Brenner had described it,
it wouldn’t be illegal, and that he wouldn’t be surprised that if “those idiots” in the Office would approve
such research. But is it too late?
“As the months went by,” Brenner had
started again, “I became more and more worried.
A few days ago, I decided to take another look at that Proposal and
Acceptance file.”
Hepner stopped breathing, wondering
if he had forgotten anything.
“You see, I had remembered something
I’d read in an issue of Science
Quarterly. So I pulled up the
file, and immediately saw the discrepancy.” Here he paused, obviously for
effect. He finally continued, “The
Science Office has added a tenth indicator to their File References. It’s a letter indicator, A through J, which
denotes the month of approval which, as you know, will also be the month the
authorization ends.
“Your Reference number is missing
the tenth indicator. I looked up the
magazine reference to be sure: Your
approval came three days after the
change went in to affect.
Hepner shook his head and thought
fast. “I have no idea why that would
be. An Office clerical error?”
Brenner shook his head. “I’m sure the file numbering system is
automated. The magazine even stated how
a warning message would be auto-sent to project managers a month before the
project authorization would come to an end.
“Still, the program was new, and glitches, as uncommon as
they usually are, was still a possibility.”
“That must be it, Myron! I did not fake the damn document, after all!”
Ignoring Hepner’s first ever use of
his first name, Brenner nodded. That’s
why I stayed late in the lab one evening, after you had inoculated some cats.”
Hepner was getting nervous. Staying
late? Hepner always stayed late, but
Brenner rarely did. There were a few times though, Hepner realized, that I felt comfortable enough to leave
first. Damn! Did I leave first on an inoculation day? How utterly stupid of me!
“I dug a syringe out of the
Biohazard bin, and was lucky to find just a miniature drop of residue inside.”
Now Hepner knew he was in trouble.
“I am quite skilled at getting a
plethora of information out of very small samples, Jules.”
Hepner didn’t even catch the
sarcasm.”And what did you find, Dr, Brenner?”
“There was, indeed, growth hormone
in the syringe,” he admitted, “but I also found DichloroTrioxeleneAmnocide.
“DTA is an agent used to bind genes
to cells, Dr. Hepner.”
Hepner remained quiet.
“Which led me to two questions: What gene are you trying to add to these
cat’s genes, and why did you choose DTA?
I’m sure you’ve read the data that shows DTA to be unstable, and the
cells break down, usually leading to the death of the patient?”
Oh,
what the hell. “Have you seen any
dead cats since your arrival, Dr. Brenner?”
It was Brenner’s turn to be
surprised. “Er, no…no, I haven’t.”
Hepner chuckled in earnest. It felt
good. “I’ve made an improvement to DTA,
Dr. Brenner. It’s not surprising you
didn’t find it; there’s no standard test yet for Synthane – my name for a
molecule I created. It stabilizes the
bond. With such a small sample, it would
be virtually impossible to find it. It was
probably just luck you didn’t find the gene.”
“And what is the gene you’re
introducing to these creatures?” Brenner asked. He looked shocked when Hepner
roared with laughter.
“Oh, Doctor, you just don’t realize
how lucky you were! There was only one
syringe with DTA in it, Doctor – may I call you Myron? – the syringe you found
was the one I used on Cleo. Cleopatra, Myron; first Queen of her
pride. The genes I’ve been inoculating
her with for months? They were harvested
from my own body. “
“Blazes! Are you mad?
Do you expect to turn Cleo into some sort of homo-felinis?”
“Of course not, Doctor. Not her, but her cubs! That’s right,
Doctor. Cleo is pregnant and will have a
litter in about three months, I’m estimating.”
“Impossible.” Brenner stated emphatically. “A cat has a gestation period of less than
six weeks! Since you’re saying she’s
already pregnant, it will be much sooner than you are thinking!”
“But these won’t be ‘kittens’
exactly, will they, Myron?”
Brenner paled. “My gods!
You are insane?”
Again Hepner chuckled. “No Myron, I’m not mad. I’m a scientist, doing what scientists do – or
used to and still should be. I am creating.”
“A new life form?” Brenner tried to sound condescending, but his
voice was cracking. You’re trying to create a new life form?”
“On Earth One, even on our mother planet, eons ago, governments were prohibiting
scientists from advancing knowledge and the understanding of our Universe. They prohibited the cloning of human
beings! Even today, we can only clone
specific organs – and only from the patient himself. But some scientists always find a way to
advance our knowledge.”
“You mean like Dr, Antoine and his
people, who created Reddik and Cyndara?”
“Myron, was it Antoine’s fault that
those two – out of the thirty clones they created – were mentally flawed” He continued before Brenner had a chance to
begin his rebuttal. “Why, if they had
had the psychological tests we have today, there wouldn’t have even been a
so-called War of the Clones. Pish, what a name. There were only two clones!”
“Two ultra-genius clones,” Brenner corrected.
Hepner nodded and stood up. “Yes; with the limits of testing for mental
illnesses in that time. I’m sure I would have opted not to create geniuses. But the premise was a good one, Myron. If
they had not murdered the rest of Dr. Antoine’s creations, can you imagine how
far science would have advanced?
“Oh, how I’ve wished the method he
used to add the genius factor hadn’t been lost!”
“So you would have genius cat
people?”
Hepner gave the other a look of
disdain. “Don’t be ridiculous. If I could, I would create genius humans!”
He sighed. “Alas, I am convinced
the psychological problems were probably based in the method used to implant
the genius factor.”
Brenner shook his head as if to
clear it. “The point is, Doctor Hepner,
that you must stop your experiments. At
once.”
“The approval is legitimate. No, don’t shake your head, I agree I’ve went
beyond the premise, but it’s all for science, Myron! I’m not in it for wealth!” At
least that last sentence is true.
“I’ll make a deal with you,
Doctor: Cease the experiments
immediately, send a program cancelation notice, and I won’t report your
transgressions to the Office. That’s
fair, isn’t it?”
Hepner sighed heavily, and a few
seconds later plopped heavily back into his seat. He put his right fist on his forehead and
shook his head slowly. “Damn, Myron…
damn.” There was no force in his
voice. “Is there no way… You’re talking
about the end of my career! Please… I
could use your help?” He looked up
hopefully, but Brenner was shaking his head.
Another sigh. He put his hand back on his forehead. “I’ve worked so hard!” His voice cracked. Tears rolled down his cheeks. He looked up again. “Can you… will you give me some time to
think? This is so… so much.”
Brenner stood. “No, Doctor, Jules. I can’t give you any more time. I am, however, going to bed. I will contact the Office in the
morning.” He started out, but stopped at
the exit and added, “Unless you have done as I’ve asked before then.” He walked down the hallway.
Hepner stood, walked to and opened a
cabinet, took out a bottle and poured himself a glass of brandy, He took a sip as he watched Brenner’s
confident strut. When the man turned the
corner, Hepner raised his glass in salute.
“Excellent exit, my good man!” He
drank deeply. Then he chuckled and shook
his head in amusement.
When the glass was drained, Hepner
set the glass down and walked over to Cleo’s cage. He knelt and she came
forward to be rubbed. “Well Cleo, it
looks like you’re going to get to see your mate sooner than I thought.” He rubbed her favorite spot, just behind her
left ear. “Looks like we’ll be moving
you and the others to my secondary lab tonight.”
The doctor stood and returned to his
work station. “First, I have some
computer work to do.” He picked up his
stylus and got to work.
The Confederation Office of Scientific Research
Confirms Dr. Myron P, Brenner
Dead on Hermes Moon
An accident aboard the BARL station on
Homer, a satellite of the planet Hermes
on the outer side of the Ring, has left one
Scientist dead, and another badly injured.
Dr. Jules Hepner, Commander of the space
lab, reported a malfunction in the energy
core, requesting immediate assistance.
Moments later, there was an explosion
that left Dr, Brenner dead, and Dr. Hepner
hurt, having suffered at least two broken
bones. First to
respond to the emergency
call was the freighter Glory Hole, out of
Syndara 3. Dr, Hepner
received medical
care on board the freighter, and is currently
recuperating at the hospital on Venicia.
Toran
Interstellar Date: 3453.8.13 Location:
Hermes Moon Homer (Toran Stargraph 41.002)
“Something like three
centuries!” Prentiss replied.
Young gave a long whistle. “In that case, the place looks damn good!”
“Mmhm,” Prentiss agreed. “Her structure is still intact. I truly believe if she could fly, she’d be
space capable! They sure made things to last back then!”
“How about the Quadrometer
readings?”
“Oh, yes.” Prentiss pulled the thick meter off his
utility belt and held it in front of his face. He looked over the readings.
“Well?” Young asked.
“It’s a bit warm in here, for my
tastes.” An answer that earned him a
punch on the arm. “Ow!”
“C’mon! Can we take them off?”
“Oh, I think it’ll be safe enough.”
“Pish!” Young nearly ripped his own helmet off. “Damn, I hate those things!” Then, “Holy
hell, you were right! It is hot in here!”
Prentiss had gotten his own helmet
off. “I didn’t expect any contaminants;
there weren’t any dangerous experiments going on here, according to records.”
“Then why did we have to wear these
fool things?” Young asked, looking disdainfully at the helmet in his right
hand. “The air on Hermes is breathable!”
“Precautionary, my good man,”
Prentiss replied, in a tone mimicking the now famous line from a top-rated movid[4]. He got a chuckle out of Ens. Young. “The Office believes in taking all
precautions, ‘just in case’.”
“I’d like to just in case their asses!”
That got a chuckle out of Ens. Prentiss.
“Aw, hell. Let’s get to work.”
With Prentiss in agreement, the two
went to work. Their job was simply to
inspect the hull, and all equipment that hadn’t been removed by the
Confederation Star Ship that had arrived shortly after the old lab had been
virtually destroyed by a fluke explosion of its energy core. It was also widely believed at the time that
the freighter that rescued the surviving doctor – and two assistants that had
responded after hearing the explosion – had taken a few things for themselves.
After
a couple of hours, the twosome met up again in what had probably been the
galley.
“Well,
I certainly hope the other team has found things more int-“ Prentiss was interrupted by the alarm on his
utility belt. “Sorry, but it’s been two
hours.”
“Aw,
come on, man! The air’s safe!” Young complained.
“Relatively
safe,” Prentiss corrected. “The air is
not the same as on Tora. You can’t
breathe it too long.”
“Yeah, but they always exaggerate on the side of caution!”
Prentiss shrugged. “Sorry, friend, but if we don’t put them on,
it’ll be auto-reported to the medical department.” He reached down and unhooked his own helmet
and put it on. It activated the moment
it was in place.
Mumbling, Young grudgingly put his
on as well. He was just about to bitch
some more when he saw Prentiss’ face. He
followed his partner’s shocked gaze to a second hallway entrance to the gallery
across from the one he entered. He, too,
was stunned to silence,
The creature they both now gawked at
stood about five feet in height. It was
naked, but covered head to toe in a light, grayish coat of hair. Its smallish, pointed ears twitched steadily,
making it appear nervous. Its mouth was barely discernible, possibly because of
the hair, but the long, wiry whiskers between it and the small, rather flat
nose twitched like the ears. It
currently held its appendage on the entry frame, gazing not only at the two
humans, but all around the room, with eyes that had green, slitted irises. Prentiss and Young could see the end of the
appendage was paw-like, padded on the bottom, with rather long claws. But what
really amazed them was the long, hair-covered tail that whipped to and fro in a
seemingly agitated manner.
“What is it?” Young asked, forgetting he was not speaking
helmet-to-helmet.
The creature hissed, jumping back a
step. Then…
…it spoke.
It was not speaking in a language
they – or their Interpreter Protocol recognized, but it was obviously not just
speaking gibberish; there was a definite syntax.
“Interpreter’s not picking up on its
language!” Prentiss stated the obvious.
“How can that… thing be talking? What the
hell is it!?”
The creature became more
agitated. “Go to helmet to helmet!”
Prentiss demanded, and reached up to click his own over. When Young had done likewise, only those
Wearing helmets tuned to the same frequency could communicate back and forth.
“There’s not supposed to be anything
like this on Hermes!”
“Agreed,” Prentiss replied. “Planetoid details say this moon is inhabited
only by four-legged animals, virtually all of which have shown a propensity to
run from humans! There isn’t supposed to
be any two-legged creatures, let
alone anything with language skills!”
After a pause, Young responded, “I’m
not so sure this is a two-legged
creature!”
“Whatever it is, we seem to have
riled it. Let me try something.” Without waiting for an answer, Prentiss
slowly reached into his uniform’s thigh pocket.
He watched the creature’s wary eyes follow his every movement. He pulled a small packet out of the
pocket. He looked down, smiling when he
saw it was a chocolate bar. He had a whole meal of packets in the pocket, but
thought he had found the elongated packet.
He commanded the facemask to open
and slowly raised it to his mouth, which seemed to surprise the beast. Its eyes widened, and its head seemed to move
back a bit. It blinked. When Prentiss took an end of the packet
between his teeth and pulled it open, the creature jumped back another step,
hissed, and then performed what was an obvious rant at Prentiss.
Prentiss pulled open the packet and
let the wrapper drop, revealing the chocolate bar. He held the bar forward, and the creature
crouched. It moved back a little. “Easy, fella,” Prentiss cooed, “it’s only
food. Good food! Prentiss took a small bite.”Mmm… yummy!” He rubbed his belly to show he liked it.
Then the creature did something
neither ensign would have believed had they not seen it themselves! It stood up straight, glared at them… and shook its head! It pointed at them (or at least Prentiss) and
spoke in its odd language again. Then it
turned and ran.
“Come on!” Prentiss shouted, and
took off at a run. Young, who would have
argued against such rash action, was forced to run after him.
Prentiss saw the creature turn a
corner that would lead to the entry foyer, where the door that they had forced
open now stood wide open. “IT’S HEADING
OU!” Prentiss screamed.
“LET…”
but his partner had already made the turn. “…it,” Young ended lamely, still
chasing after his partner. He turned the corner just in time to see his partner
run out the access door. “Shat!”
He picked up his pace even more, now sprinting to the entryway – where
he came to a sudden, quick halt.
He
gazed out of the portal, stunned motionless by the scene. Prentiss stood about a dozen or so feet
outside. He had turned back to face the
dilapidated, three centuries old structure.
So Young could see the bloodied spear tip sticking out from just below
his ribcage. Behind him was a line of eight
or nine more of these cat-like creatures.
Some wore primitive forms of light clothing. They had differing coat colors, from a cream
color to nearly black. One was a dark
yellow, with orange stripes. One had spots
and reminded Young of a panther. Another
bore a mane, like that of a lion. They
all also carried deadly-looking spears, and a few had primitive blades attached
at the waist.
Prentiss
fell face-first onto the ground. Young
heard the spear break.
Ensign
Young swallowed hard, and raised his hands.
Toran Interstellar Date: 3455.1.04
Location: Gallea, Confederation
Central, Office of the Adjutant General
The big man entered the meeting
room, moving like he always did; a gate that was often jokingly described as “as if his pants were on fire!”, though
never to his face. He sat at the head of
the long, wide wooden table and got right to it.
“Dr. Phelps? For the record, give me a short synopsis of
this case, starting with the case file number, if you would.”
One of the gentlemen on the north
side of the table stood. He was nearly
as fat as the big man. “Yes, General
Feldman.” He brought his work tablet
closer to his face. “Case File
48C.647.F1A.X. A race of feline
creatures was discovered on Hermes, a moon of the planetoid Homer, Stargraph
location 41.002, during a spot search of a previous base camp, in preparation
for developing a plan for installing a Research Lab for the purpose of
determining if Hermes’ atmosphere could be safely altered to allow human
habitation without interfering with indigenous life forms. Reference file 88A.243. F1A.I. First contact did not go well, ending in the
death of one Confederation soldier.
Another soldier was released without harm. This second soldier, Ens. Torrin Daniels
Young, reported that the creatures stood regularly on two feet, and spoke in a
language the translator could not interpret.
Further investigation has shown that the creature is sentient according
to current standards. Second contact was
made by an expert team. This went rather
well, and we can now interpret their language; it is primitive, but farther
along the Standard Language Progression model than we would have expected.”
“Let’s pause there, Doctor; I have
some questions.”
Phelps lowered his tablet. “Yes, Sir?”
“First, hasn’t Hermes already been
deemed not to be terrain-adjustable?”
True,” Dr. Phelps agreed, “but that
determination is over three centuries old, and technology has greatly changed,
since then.”
“Yes, I understand there are some
traders who have found ways to change Hermes creatures over to breathing Toran air?”
“Unfortunately, sir, yes, that is
true. There has been an illegal trade in Hermes animals that security forces
have not been able to reign in.
Scientists working for the traders have been able to change the creatures
over to survive the Toran atmosphere for an extended time.”
“How long can humans currently
breathe in Hermes’ atmosphere?” the
General asked.
“We have a safety limit of two hours
before switching back to regulator oxygen for at least twenty minutes, but a
human could actually breathe the air there for four hours without any side
effects. Depending on the individual, it
could be eight to twelve hours before serious side effects begin.”
General Feldman nodded. “Now, you said that their language was
farther along the SLP model than you’d expected. How did you determine that?” Though the General knew the answer, he needed
it to be spoken into the record.
“Shortly after second contact,”
Phelps began, “a few members of the pride led us to a cave. This cave had been turned into a laboratory,
some three hundred years earlier. Though
time had rendered all equipment functionless, we were able to get information
off one of the computers, a personal computer we have determined to belong to
Dr.
Jules Hepner, the last Commander of the station, who was injured in the
explosion that destroyed the interior.
“Notes recovered lead us to believe
that Dr. Myron Brenner and Dr, Hepner were working to create a new race of
felines, homo felinis. Dr. Hepner believed that the explosion was
caused by Dr. Brenner who was trying to eliminate Dr Hepner. Hepner noted that Brenner had asked him to
leave further work to him, even going so far as asking Hepner to ask for a
transfer. An umail from a Dr. Singleton
seems to indicate Dr. Brenner was trying to get support from other quarters –
though in the case of Dr. Singleton, he was summarily refused.”
“So, this was Dr, Brenner’s project?”
“With only the records we’ve found,
I cannot be certain. However, it would
be rare for a junior member of the team to ask the senior man to leave. My thought is Dr. Hepner was a renown
biologist. It was a coup to get him on
the project. But Brenner was relatively
unknown; we’ve found only six published papers by him. Chances are, he was an egomaniacal genius,
who suddenly realized that Hepner’s name would overshadow him. His ego wouldn’t allow him to share the
spotlight. When Hepner – who was surely
also an egomaniac - refused to back down, he attempted to murder him.
“Unfortunately, biology and
mechanical engineering are two very different fields. It went wrong, and it was the would-be
murderer who was killed.”
The General nodded his head
again. “Just desserts. Continue, please.”
Dr. Phelps again lifted the
tablet. “So. When Dr. Phelps recovered from his injuries,
he returned to Hermes. He expresses
being torn between continuing the project and abandoning it. But then he discovers the remote
laboratory. A fully equipped lab, well
stocked. With his new contacts – the freighter traders who rescued
him – he decided to resign from the Confederation and work on his own.”
“Without the Confederation, Doctor,”
the General asked, “could he even believe he could succeed?”
“Well, Sir, this is an embarrassing
point. It seems he had a highly placed
contact within the Confederation: His
daughter and fellow scientist. There is
ample evidence to determine that she probably
helped him gain access to the equipment and supplies only the Confederation
could have provided.”
The General shook his head
sadly. “It was a time of much
corruption,” he noted. “Now, what have
we determined to do with this new, artificially produced race?”
“I will ask Dr. Redding to pick it
up here, Sir.” When the General nodded
his consent, Phelps nodded to a well-dressed man across from him. “Dr. Redding?”
Dr. Redding stood and spoke without
referring to his tablet, which remained on the table. “As you know, General, homo felinis became a media sensation. ‘Cat People’, they are calling them. We believe the leak to have been external,
rather than internal; probably one of the smugglers that have visited Hermes
called the media when there was nothing more than whispers, after the reported
death of an ensign on a rather benign mission.
It’s almost certain some smugglers would have espied the race. In any event, public knowledge rules out any
covert operation to eradicate the race.
We’re all aware of the stench that arose after the military branch
eradicated a non-sentient race of
giant rats on Platonia 2.
“So we have investigated several
ideas. Since the race conforms to the
description under Race: Alien: Restricted
under the Confederation Intergalactic Research manual, integrating them into
our society is out. We have also
determined that an exception to that rule would be ill-advised. The race is greatly behind us in technology,
and their lifestyle does not come close to conforming to our societal
norms. And since we have determined to
place humans on Hermes to mine it for its edible foods, if not more, contact
would be inevitable; thus we cannot leave them there.”
“Thank you for going over what we cannot do with this new race, Doctor,”
the General said with only a little sarcasm, “but can you now tell us what our
options that we can do are?”
“Sir, we have determined that there
is only one acceptable method of dealing with the homo felinis problem; since they are, by current definition, a
Restricted Race, they should be transplanted to a Restricted Planet, as soon as
arrangements can be made.”
“And have you determined the proper
planet?” This was the only piece of the
puzzle that the General wasn’t made aware of in private, before this meeting.
The meeting was being held to make it all official, and thus public.
Dr.
Redding picked up his tablet and pulled off the stylus connected to its
side. “I am sending you a list of three
planets, Sir, along with a description of each, and the pros and cons we have
determined pertinent to the transfer.
Since Hermes s a tropical moon, we have selected planets with large
areas similar to what homo felinis
are already used to. It should be noted
Sir, that the race is most assuredly able to adjust to life in practically any
environment – much like their Earth-One ancestors.”
“So, you are leaving the final
decision to me?” the General asked lightly.
Dr. Redding smiled wide. “That’s why
they give you the best benefits, sir!
After a long moment of the General
seeming to deeply contemplate the situation, he finally nodded his head and
said, “Very well. I will study all this
material and take everything you’ve told me into consideration. When I’ve come to a decision, I’ll notify
each of you. Meeting concluded.”
Everyone started gathering their
things and made their way toward the exit.
Toran Interstellar Date: 3455.1.04
Location: The Great Western Plain on Virgo.767b, in the Sellaris System.
Jake Norman looked at his young
partner and smiled. “That’s what they
call it, Trent.”
“Are there really goblins in there?”
Jake noted more than a little awe in
Trent’s voice. “Ship’s sensors say yes,
but only a small village, near the center of the woods. It’s likely the two races won’t come into
contact for quite some time.”
“Are they as vicious and evil as
legend says they are?”
“Jake shrugged. “I’ve read that they’re vicious survivors;
that means they do what’s necessary for survival.. I guess the concept of evil is subjective.”
“These cat people have proven to be
a nice bunch,” Trent offered. “Do you
think they’ll survive here?”
“They’ll have a chance, Trent;
that’s the best we can offer them.
They’re survivors too though, with a great capacity to adapt. Personally, I believe they’ll thrive.”
Trent finally smiled. “I’m glad.
It was tough at first, this trip, but when we finally got them to trust
us, well, I came to like them.”
“They are likeable; even soothing to
be around.” Jake chuckled, then slapped Trent on the back. “Come on; the supplies have finished
offloading, but it takes some manual labor to get it off the grav-sleds!” The twosome stepped down the stairs from the
supply ship and went to work unloading the crates that held the equipment,
supplies, and even some era-appropriate weapons the homo felinis would need to survive until they became self
sufficient.
Later, as the cat race disembarked
(some still in restraints), Jake considered the difficulty in getting them
transplanted to this planet, which local humans called Cretus. Not one of them had come willingly; traps and
knock-out gas had been used. Some
surrendered, but you could tell they hated it.
Then there were days on end as hunters and sensors searched out those
hiding. In the end, some nineteen hundred homo
felinis were gathered, and put on board the Starship Degas. Seven humans and twenty-nine cat people had
been killed in the effort. Lessons learned for future endeavors,
his Commander had said as they readied to depart ”safe space”.
The cats hadn’t exactly come to trust
them on the long space voyage as Trent thought; they had, in Jake’s
opinion, merely adjusted to their situation.
And Jake thought that a good portent for their future.
The felines were disembarked with
only a few problems. They were shown their supplies, and they seemed pleased
with them. Eventually, the soldiers were
called to board the ship.
Jake was one of the last to re-enter
the landing vessel. He looked back. A tall gray feline that reminded him of a
Siamese Jake had once seen in a holographic zoo, raised his hand and actually
waved at him. Jake waved back. Then he
gave the feline a military salute. The
creature turned and joined several others who were heading into the heavy
woods. They were all carrying
spears. Jake supposed they were either a
hunting party, or were ensuring the area was safe.
Either way, it was a good sign. With a sigh, he turned and entered the ship,
thinking he could endure the long trip home, only because he knew his wife
waited for him on the other end.
[1]
Meaning the Confederation Office of Scientific Research.
[2]
Homer Biologically Accentuated Research Laboratory
[3]
Universal Mail system; not much different than our email system, but
standardized Confederation-wide.
[4]
The current most popular form of entertainment involves computer generated
actors performing scenes that are usually viewed on personal computer screens.
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