"Birth of a Race" - I'm Posting this story because it's the basis of a story I am including in my short story compilation: "Stories of the Elves of Kali" -- Thank you, Serene!



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.”
            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.


 Toran Interstellar Date:  3146.7.03  Tora Central Headline News


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)


            “Damn!  How long has this place been abandoned?”  Ensign Torrin Young had just entered the dilapidated station, just behind his partner, Ensign Hal Prentiss.
            “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.


            “Goblin Forest, huh?”

            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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