by Greg Dragon
“What about the other way around?” Helga said. “A lizard giving birth to a human child?”
“I’ve studied all of Anstractor’s species, Helga,” Cleia said. “Let me show you why science makes either scenario an impossibility.”
With that she waved her hand in front of the large vid screen, and the mutant’s image was replaced with a diagram of interlinking circles, each of them labeled with the name of a species. Helga’s eyes naturally searched for Casanians and saw connecting lines going out to Vestalians, Genesians, Meluvians, and Louines.
“What do the dotted lines mean?” Helga said. “Like the one between Virulians and Genesians.”
“Virulians may be humanoid, just like Vestalians and Genesians, but their physiology is different due to the conditions on their planet.” Cleia said. “We believe that most of the planets share a common ancestry, and that Anstractor may have been the destination of travelers seeking refuge. This is unproven but likely, considering the genetic link between so many despite us all being so far apart.”
“So, Virulians evolved too far out from their ancestors, to the point where a good horizontal docking doesn’t guarantee pregnancy. Is that where you’re navigating towards, Doc?” Helga said.
She knew that the crass slang she used for sex would rustle the tentacles on the overly-professional doctor, and when the woman’s blue skin flushed indigo, she knew that her words had been received and understood.
“Yes, exactly,” Cleia said. “Though in the medical field we say coitus, or … never mind, I can see your smile through the terminal’s reflection. Are you truly curious about this creature, Lieutenant, or is this merely an exercise to try and rattle me?”
Before Helga could reply and plead her case, the doctor walked over and got in her face. She was so close that their noses were practically touching, and she had to restrain herself from pushing the woman off.
“I may be kind and socially awkward, but I am neither stupid nor unaware of how I am perceived aboard this ship,” Cleia said, her tiny voice rising up an octave. “You, however, have remained a mystery to me, because you shift back and forth from playing at friend to being somewhat of a bully, and I demand an explanation.”
Oops, Helga thought, as she felt the tension rising inside the space. “Cleia—”
“Doctor. Until you can explain yourself to me, I no longer want to pretend that we are friends, Lieutenant Ate.”
“Cleia,” Helga said, hopping off the bed and placing both hands on the woman’s shoulders. “I like you. Do you understand? I’m saying it clearly, so the language doesn’t get in the way. As to my gibes, calm down, it’s just my way. I don’t mean anything by it. You’re totally about to square off with me, knowing that you’ll lose.”
“Are you so sure about that?” Cleia said, baring her teeth, which would have been frightening if not for her small face and nasally voice.
Helga began to laugh. “Doc, I don’t mean any disrespect, but look at you. You’d actually try me? It’s surprising, really … in a good way, and here I thought you were all needles and salves. There’s a fighter inside you, and that makes me like you even more. So calm down, and forgive me, will you? Plus, why would I be here if all I wanted to do was annoy you? I’m here because I value your opinion as a scientist.”
The doctor’s shoulders dropped slightly, and she exhaled audibly, her skin returning to that beautiful shade of powdery blue. It was as if a weight had fallen off them, and she closed her eyes for a few seconds before opening them to give Helga a measuring look.
“You are certainly incorrigible,” she finally said, then reached up and squeezed the Nighthawk’s earlobe. “I get it. You’re one of those that picks at the people you care about and ignores the ones you don’t. It will take some getting used to, and I want to believe that you’re worth it. Alright then, back to our Geralos. As I’ve explained, most of our species are linked, so there’s a chance of reproduction regardless of the pair.”
Helga found this fascinating, especially the thought of Raileo having a child with this woman. She had yet to see a human and Traxian hybrid, which struck her as odd, since on the diagram there was a dotted line linking the two as compatible. She dared not ask, however, not after their recent exchange.
Cleia walked over to the screen and pointed at the circle that represented the Geralos.
“See here,” she said. “They have no lines. The Geralos cannot conceive with anyone else outside of their own. This uniqueness hints at two separate theories, the first being that they are the natural residents of Anstractor. The rest of us having come here from another galaxy, where we took to different planets and evolved.”
Helga made to say something, but the doctor looked around and gestured for her to remain quiet.
“That first theory is controversial,” Cleia whispered. “I am not sure you’re aware. In certain sectors it is considered criminal to even suggest such a thing. The second theory, which was the one that Dr. Aghesh explored, was that in a time past, thousands of years before FTL was shared with the lesser evolved planets, a team of scientists set out to create the ultimate biological weapon, and terraformed Geral—then an uninhabited planet—to become the home of what we now call the Geralos.”
“I haven’t heard any of these theories in all my time on the Rendron,” Helga said. “I don’t know which one to believe, but I’m leaning on them being someone’s experiment gone wrong. Their behavior … they’re like a virus, taking over and corrupting everything they touch. They bite into our brains in an attempt to suck out the gift of prescience from our Seekers. And why? To see into the future or some other ridiculous belief.
“If their goal was to eat us, and their attack on Vestalia was due to a food or resource shortage, that would make sense from an actual species. We could understand why they hunt us, and there could even be a chance of some negotiations. But they capture us to bite into our brains, killing us from the infection, then discarding our bodies like half-eaten ration bars. They don’t care that this pursuit of the sight has led to genocide, or that literally everyone else in this galaxy has taken up arms to stop them.”
“Right,” Cleia said. “That single-sighted focus and their isolation is why Dr. Aghesh has suggested that they were made. This mutant you all found looks to be a clone or lab-born entity that hadn’t been fully formed. If I was to guess at what was below the facility where you found, it would be that there is a lab where a new type of Geralos is being worked on.”
“Thype me, but that’s heavy,” Helga whispered.
“I have a favor to ask you,” Cleia said, powering down her computer, which caused the image of the Geralos to transform into one of the planet Traxis. “I am no Dr. Rhoan Aghesh, but my talents will be wasted here if all I’m doing is running checkups and patching up the occasional rescue. I am a scientist, and what you’ve shared has me wanting to learn more to help you and the commander.”
“What do you need?” Helga said, glancing at the door, somewhat surprised that no one had disturbed their private talk.
“Samples. Had I known you were going to a lab, I would have asked you to collect some from the flora and fauna of that moon. Not only that, but this Geralos … with a bit of his flesh, I could answer your question, and give some idea as to their intent. Right now, with only this image, we’re still speculating, and to be honest I am frightened.”
“I’m not sure Cilas would be big on us bringing potential bio-hazards back onto his ship,” Helga said.
“I can talk to the commander and explain my intent, which benefits the war,” Cleia said. “I have kits, along with instructions for using them, and they are small enough to fit inside your packs. They can even be worn on a belt, which is where we carried them back when I was a student doing my observations. Thank you for sharing with me, Helga. I see now that my earlier accusations were not only unfounded but premature.”
“Don’t apologize, girl, you’re new here.” Helga laughed. “We’ll have you acting like
a boomer in no time. Then it may be me apologizing to Raileo for corrupting you.”
Helga expected a retort, but the doctor gave her the warmest of smiles and walked her to the door, where she placed a hand on the Nighthawk’s shoulder. “He told me about your talk, and I’m glad,” Cleia said. “Our … relationship isn’t so much of a secret as it is private, if you can understand my meaning. I am aware that everyone knows, or suspects. There isn’t much hiding on a ship this small with six crew members.”
“We all have our secrets,” Helga admitted, and Cleia opened the door for her to leave the compartment. “Talk to you later?”
“I look forward to it,” the doctor said, practically beaming as she stood in the doorway watching her go.
Leaving the doctor’s office, Helga immediately went to Cilas’s cabin to speak with him about everything she had learned, but he wasn’t there. After several more detours to the mess, and then the bridge, she went down to the dock where she found him seated on the wing of the Thundercat.
“What are you doing up there?” she said, looking around, surprised to find the place so empty.
“Ray’s in his berth, laying up for a bit, and Q’s with Sunny at the stern somewhere, having a talk about something,” he said, waving it off dismissively. “Me, I’m waiting to hear back from the captain, to see whether or not we’re going back to the Rendron. We can keep our current trajectory, as long as we’re out of radar contact from those moon-dwelling lizards. What brings you down here? Looking to practice some shooting?”
“Looking for you, actually. Do you have a moment?” Helga said, staring up at him from the deck.
“For you, always,” he said, then nimbly hopped down to the deck. He sat down and beckoned her over before leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Helga followed his lead and sat in front of him below the wing, crossing her legs in a full lotus, showing off her incredible flexibility.
“What’s on your mind, Hel?”
“I spoke to the doc, and shared our theory that the lizards are experimenting with reproduction,” she said.
“And what did she say about our theory?”
“That it doesn’t make sense,” Helga said. “Which is why I wanted to talk to you. But it’s not going to be easy to digest.”
“Well, considering I’m sitting here helpless, waiting for the council to decide our next move, I could use the distraction because the voices in my head are beginning to shout,” Cilas said.
“Okay, here goes,” Helga said, and she relayed to him the two different theories behind the Geralos, and the likelihood that what they had found was a processing plant to produce a better version of them.
Cilas listened with interest, and offered up a few theories of his own.
“If someone made them, then they are just as guilty as the lizards,” he said. “I want to blame the Louines, but it will come off speciesist, so I will bite my tongue, but you know how I feel about them. War’s been raging a millennia, and where have they been? Sitting comfortably out of it while half the galaxy suffers. Vestalians are being captured and processed while Meluvia tears itself apart from the inside. Virulia’s resources are thyped, and we’re not exactly winning this war. All it would take is one of their starships, as advanced and deadly as they are, and the lizards would be broken, but they don’t help, do they, Helga? Why not? Maybe because they know that they’re the reason why all of reality is falling apart.”
“I don’t disagree, but I don’t see what the benefit to them creating the Geralos would have been,” Helga said, reaching forward to take his hand. She knew that at any minute now one of the Nighthawks could come down one of the lifts, or scramble down the ladderwell, to catch her being intimate with the commander. He didn’t pull away, however, but instead reached up and caressed her cheek.
“I know that it’s not the Louines, Hel; it’s likely something that is no longer here. But the reality is that we have to deal with them now, and you’re telling me they’re trying to evolve. If that’s what’s happening down there then the council needs to know, because just the risk of that happening will goad them into sending twenty hard cases down to that moon.”
“How many do you think there are around the galaxy?” she said. “Labs, bases, processing plants; I can’t keep up. Then there’s the Alliance. We’re already spread thin, fighting their dreadnoughts, destroyers, and battleships. We’re not equipped for what we found down there, Cilas. This is ESO business, and there’s just not enough of us to handle it.”
The two of them sat in silence for a time, staring at the deck as they processed the information. Helga didn’t want to view the work they did as futile, and she hated how her words had come off so defeatist.
“That isn’t to say that I don’t believe we’ll beat the lizards back to Geral,” she said cheerfully.
Cilas squeezed her hands, massaging them with his thumbs before bringing one of them up to press it gently against his lips.
“Sometimes it’s just easiest to ignore the galaxy and worry about what’s in your crosshairs and immediate vicinity,” he said. “Talking about you, my Casanian, 2IC. I have been so distracted with everything that I haven’t taken the time to tell you how proud you’ve made me. The Captain asks about you by name. Do you know that?”
“I don’t, actually,” she said, blushing. It was impossible not to grin. “What does he say?”
“How’s Helga?” Cilas mocked in an attempt at Retzo Sho’s voice and accent.
“That’s really good,” she said, laughing, and snatching back a hand to cover her mouth so no one above deck could hear it. “I appreciate you saying that, Cilas, but you only have yourself to thank for my success. You’ve been my mentor, icon, and now, something more unspoken. I was an empty shell before Meluvia, and then you scolded me and showed me just how much you really cared.”
“Was it that bad?” he said, his face a mask of concern as he released her other hand.
“I stayed functionally drunk, but you knew that and I’m not exactly proud of it,” she said. “When we were back on Rendron, after the psych, I got better, but I was still an empty shell fighting not to remember the schtill on Dyn. You and Joy became my drug, then Quentin and his CQC classes helped reignite the spark that had gone missing. Then we got to Ursula, and I forced you to take me to your cabin, and now, you know, I’m good with whatever. As long as you and the Nighthawks are with me.”
“What about Joy?” he said.
“What about her? You mean us?” Helga said. “I no longer care what she thinks. I’m well past worrying about how she’s going to take it. Cilas, you don’t know it but when you were with her, she kept suggesting that I join you two in bed.”
“I’m sorry, what?” he said, looking as if he’d swallowed something painful.
“Stop playing the innocent; you know her as well as I do. It’s about something deeper than sex with her. She won’t care about what we’re doing,” Helga said.
“What if I tell her that I’m crazy about you?” he said, smiling, and Helga bopped him on the thigh with a closed fist.
“She would see right through it, jerk, just like I do. You love being with me, I get it, but you’re still head over heels for that cruta.”
“Helga, I—”
“Stow it, Cilas, you cannot hurt me. Like I said, I know what this is. What would hurt Joy is if she believes she’s been replaced in that deeper area of your heart. I’m her sister, and even if I claimed you, officially, I’d like to think that in time she’d forgive me. Hell, half our relationship is fighting. That woman is as stubborn as anyone I’ve known, but that is why she is who she is.”
“You know, I was really worried about how she’d take this, until you said what you said just now,” Cilas said. “Let me know when you contact her. It’s too late for me to do it. I’ve waited too long, knowing she’d be livid, and that woman has a way of making me feel like a wad of schtill. You’re very observant, and good at the psychoanalysis, but I haven’t loved Joy sinc
e we returned from Meluvia.”
“Don’t say anymore, Cilas, please,” Helga pleaded, knowing where he was about to take the conversation. “I know your heart, and I know that you’re a man of principle. You may actually believe that you feel something for me, but I need it to be real before you say it.”
“I know,” he said. “But know that where Joy is concerned, you should only worry about your relationship with her. She and I were done a long time before our split, but I was too much of a coward to put a stop to it back then.”
“Commander Cilas Mec, a coward. Now that’s rich,” Helga quipped, laughing at the absurdity. She was about to say more but then his wrist-comms came to life, and he scrambled to his feet, pulling her up effortlessly with one hand.
“That’s my cue,” he said. “I have to go. Let’s see where our next stop will be. Will I see you tonight?”
“Maybe,” she said, turning to leave, but he pulled her back and brought her in, pressing a kiss to her lips.
23
Back on Rendron after Dyn, Helga had a recurring nightmare that haunted her for countless cycles. She was on a ship of some sort, running from an assassin that had her contract. She was slower and weaker than she was in life, too frightened to move at times when he would attack her, and she would be left to bleed out on the deck, helplessly paralyzed.
In one of these recurrences, he had even taken her sight before putting her into stasis, where she could neither see nor move about. That had been the worst one yet, until this cycle when she fell asleep waiting on a call from Cilas. She started out running in her nightmare, feeling the assassin’s presence close behind. She knew that she would be shot. If it was the same as it was on Rendron, the bullet would penetrate her spine and leave her helpless.
