by Cher Hollis
In the one hundred years the war was fought, many things were lost, some forgotten, and more had been destroyed. Unfortunately, the long war had made extinction a certainty for the Makkars. Their race had grown smaller and they’d lost their ability to procreate, because of their broken Circles.
Ramon observed in the telepathic sharing of the Makkars past that there were glaring banks of time with no historical accounts. It showed all that had been lost in a brutal war. In one devastating blow, their enemy had wiped out huge portions of the Makkars scientific studies and killed the scientists who created them, along with the knowledge that had propelled them.
Ramon started to understand that in an equally devastated way the Makkar Circles had been broken beyond their ability to repair them. That was where their extinction began. The reality of broken Circles made it impossible for them to begin again to procreate, and without procreation, they weren’t able to make their Circles whole again.
It was for that reason the communications with a unique human entity Dr. Ramon De La Fluenta had been so welcome. Ramon had offered Vytor the use of his expertise in DNA research as the beginning toward a viable solution for the Makkars extinction problems.
So they were a dying race, and at the end of the war, they were left with another vast problem. Without a war to fight, the Makkars were at a loss about what to do with their chattel warriors the Esa. It wasn’t expected those fierce warriors would be able to lay down their weapons and willingly seek a peaceful existence. It had become certain that the Makkars solution to win a war was by then, their unsolvable burden.
Ramon felt the vast quantities of information slowing.
The experience of being bonded with the Makkars was as if he’d received the ancient wisdom directly inside. It was a part of him and he praised his new family for sharing their life’s history, while he continued to twirl in the kaleidoscope of their combined energy.
“I wish to tell you about my life,” Ramon offered, using his new inner voice.
The Makkar voices sung out with welcome, and they became one song in Ramon’s mind.
Then Vytor’s voice rose above the rest and he offered instructions. “You are joined to us, Circle brother. Our combined energy is like a thread and it is there forever to be opened or closed at your will. Desire it and the bond will open and I will teach you to manage the flow.”
Ramon released his will and followed his mentor’s guidance so he could tell his life story for all the Makkars to share.
For him, bonding with an alien race was the third time in his seventy-five years where he’d completely transformed. He was born a genius, and in his life, he’d been compared to Einstein or the respected Baltamire of the twenty-first century.
He’d accomplished many doctorates at a young age. Quickly earning higher degrees, until he’d specialized in the late twenty-first century’s newest science of In-vitro genetics. He’d had historic breakthroughs in that technology and his work propelled Earth’s population into the twenty-second century.
Unfortunately, he’d become better remembered for his one cultural failure. It happened from his preferred science of New Eugenics, which was a science he developed to improve the qualities of the human race. New Eugenics led him to create his own race of laboratory-derived human beings, much like the Makkars had created the Esa.
Ramon had perfected his race of humans using his expertise in DNA. He’d called his breakthrough procedure “Variant” and the derived humans he’d created “Variant Syntechs.” That new race was born in laboratories, and they were dubbed “Variants” by Earth’s population.
At the time, Ramon had been certain they were his finest creation. But he’d been too caught in his intellectual efforts and ego to consider the cultural implications of his new race of humans.
Variants were genetically altered to be stronger, taller, have better vision, improved hearing, and they aged better than natural born humans. The Variants were an improved replacement that would save natural born lives in wars.
Only in the end, it had proven to be a dismal failure. With no family, no roots, and no sense of belonging the Variants had become lost, confused, and at times dangerously defiant. Cries of opposition had rung out, which recalled the ancient histories of slavery, as the people of Earth tried to deal with their prejudices, and they failed.
After too many years, the Variant race was eventually freed to live life as they chose, and while they still lived under the burden of prejudice, many had succeeded in freedom.
But for the father of their race, Ramon, his realization had come about too slowly. It hadn’t happened until he’d been on the verge of creating another more intricate and deadly race.
The Federation of Americas and its governing military had been backing the project enthusiastically. They’d monitored his every move, while pressing him to finish.
Two weeks before completion, Ramon finally realized that he had much more in the Phoenix DNA string than he’d first calculated. Initially, the implications excited his scientific genius, until he considered how he would control his newly created humans, who would be so potentially powerful and deadly.
He’d been able to greatly enhance their strength to mammoth proportions while their sight, hearing, and smell would be superhuman. But it was the brain where he’d demonstrated his expertise. The Phoenix would have an unlimited brain function; even opening up areas Ramon thought certainly would be telepathic in nature.
When faced with the potential reality of what he’d created, he had to admit the danger of unleashing such a deadly species, which would be so superior to natural born humans. He’d finally realized Phoenix was too lethal to unleash, but he’d been trapped.
The military, and those that governed it, wouldn’t have accepted his conclusions that Phoenix was too deadly to bring into existence. They were too zealous to jump at the perceived power it would give them. Then he’d known if he’d tried to erase the project and had refused to continue, in their greed for power, they would have used scientific ways to extract what they needed from his brain to complete his work.
So in a moment of astonishing humanitarian heroism, he’d completely eradicated and destroyed the entire project.
Then as quietly, he’d committed suicide.
It had left his daughter of fifteen, Ela Cassandra wondering for many years if the man she’d despised as a father, truly did have one last redeeming quality.
Fortunately for him, his suicide attempt had failed. But he hadn’t learned to view that as a good thing for several years and after those traumatic events had propelled him into another complete change in his life. Because the authorities that watched his Phoenix project so closely had found him too soon after his attempted suicide.
Then they’d saved his life. And spirited him away.
But the military never told anyone he was really alive—it was a closely guarded secret.
They isolated him in space, on the planet Duvall, and then they’d keenly waited for him to recover. But the suicide attempt had left him partially paralyzed, and it had seemed to destroy a large part of his cognitive abilities. Still, the military waited for years, but they’d finally had to admit Dr. De La Fluenta would never again be capable of producing the type of research they wanted.
Ramon had let them go on believing that he was disabled, so they’d left him alone in his laboratories, and eventually paid little attention to him. During those years, Ramon used the return of his genius lightly, because he’d become a changed man. The overriding ego and arrogance of his youth were tempered. His own intelligence had frightened even him, but eventually he’d grown lonely.
The penal colony of Duvall Station was populated with criminal Variants, who had been imprisoned for crimes so terrible, they’d been banished off Earth. Those Variant criminals hadn’t known Ramon lived so close to them, and Ramon hadn’t let himself become closely involved with any of the people stationed on Duvall.
He wouldn’t take the chance any of them coul
d find out that his abilities had gradually returned. So when he’d first achieved contact with a never-before-identified alien entity, it was with quiet enthusiasm.
Vytor and Ramon had communicated well over a year, but Ramon had hidden all signs of their unique and growing friendship. Then after he’d learned about the Makkars extinction problems, he had enthusiastically offered his genetic expertise as a possible way to help them. He’d thought it would be a way to escape his confinement, and get out from under the burden of his genius ever being used for anything but what he wanted it used for.
So it was decided that Ramon should come to the Makkars home world.
Ramon’s history began filtering to its natural conclusion, and it left his Circle Generation with the intimacy of his incredible life story.
The Makkars in his Circle combined their inner voices into one single declaration, which rang out. “We are whole! We are a full Circle Generation once again!”
Suddenly, Vytor’s single inner voice stormed above the rest with exhilaration. “Now I may procreate!”
Vytor’s need was overwhelming as it swept through the Circle. The urgency of it couldn’t be denied. They were a Circle, a merger of each other’s thoughts and desires. They were one. Vytor had to be allowed to procreate; he was the oldest among them.
His life’s quintessence was precariously balanced at the end of its fertility span. He had little time left for the rapture of bringing forth new life.
Ramon realized the truth of Vytor’s declaration as he started to distinguish the different threads of continuous thoughts from each Makkar. Ramon was gripped with the enormity of their joy, while Vytor toppled in bliss and exuded a rainbow of green colors.
Ramon was swept along in the Makkars uncontrolled happiness at the thought of serving Vytor in the act of procreation. Any doubts Ramon had or thoughts of caution were overwhelmed by his Circle Generations jubilation. His body started to circle in the middle of their swirling matrixes, and it levitated him higher, while their preternatural energy snapped in electric charges along his skin.
Vytor started to spin within the tempest, and it began to create some form of vacuum, which pulled at Ramon’s soul. The enormous force tugged into sharp twinges that quickly turned into pain, and then agony, as Ramon’s insides were pulled against the unbelievable pressure.
He tried to mentally reason with the Makkars through the excruciating pain. He’d been afraid it would happen. His human structure wasn’t adequate to completely repair his new alien circle. Not enough to make it whole for the one act which his Circle Generation so desperately needed.
Their desire to procreate.
But there were other ways he could try, and as a scientist he had considered—he would not let his newest family down. But right at that moment—
“You are killing me!”
The internal shout reverberated from Ramon’s mind and from his voice. Then he felt the shock of his cry as it ricocheted through the Makkars consciousnesses.
Of the five of them, four of them started to respectfully if not sadly, pull back. However, the last one showed a chilling moment of hesitation. Not able to hide their communal thoughts during the divine moment they’d attempted, all of them felt Vytor’s greatest desire had reached briefly into a form of madness.
Then too many dreaded seconds later, it snapped back to sanity, when Vytor, who was grief-stricken with his inability to procreate, mentally cried out, “Of course I will withdraw! To end a life to create a life has never been in our essence.”
Thankfully, Ramon once again experienced the ground firmly beneath his feet and his arms slowly lowered to his sides. The green particles, which had spiraled around him, imploded and returned to the individual matrix for each of the five Makkars in his new Circle.
Ramon sealed the otherworldly event with thoughts about the God of his childhood, and he offered a silent prayer of thanks. The dynamism that had flowed through his body was awe-inspiring and he sealed his prayer with a long forgotten, but familiar benediction. His hands instinctively performed the Stations of the Cross.
“My God, what has happened?” he exclaimed in astonishment. The realization he could move both his arms rushed through him. Astounded, he flexed his previously paralyzed left arm, and then he tested his leg. He looked up at Vytor. “How is this possible? Am I healed?”
He stepped backward and tested his balance.
Vytor’s matrix displayed sickly shades of green, and he telepathically offered, “It is the beginning, Ramon. We are healed and we rejoice in healing you. You who can save us. We are hopeful that it’s not too late. That we may quickly have your help, for my life’s extreme need to procreate.”
Vytor’s inner voice seemed to gain strength. But then in Ramon’s mind, the two ideas “healed and help” competed for importance. The last one won when he remembered just moments before Vytor’s near deadly hesitation to pull back. Ramon hadn’t realized how much procreation meant personally to Vytor, and he attempted to reassure his friend and new brother.
“If I set my mind exclusively to the task of the Makkar procreation flaws, I’m certain, Vytor, that within several years I can develop the very beginnings of a solution. I have already found a working hypothesis.”
“I perceived you could!” Vytor’s telepathic cry was instantly shrill and exuberant. “You have explained your genius, Ramon. It will be accomplished soon, now that my Circle is whole again!”
Ramon’s eyebrows rose, then he cautioned, “We are a very long way from that happening as I’m trying to explain to you. We must begin with a host womb. Then with time, yes it could be possible. In the distant future. We must find two willing humans, a male and a female, preferably Variants, because my research is more extensive in their genetic structures.” Ramon motioned with his newly healed hand and arm. “We might even find two who are willing among the detainees abducted from the prison at Duvall Station. It will be a progression as I see it now in these very early stages of speculation. A progression that will start first with a human womb, and then it will evolve through several generations into a Makkars … ah, womb we will call it.”
Several generations? Vytor thought with distress. He was glad Ramon had chosen to use his human voice, instead of thought transfer, as Vytor felt desperation seize him, and he didn’t want Ramon to hear it. Still, he would not believe it. Ramon had shared his history and it showed how brilliant he was.
Vytor would make certain Ramon was able to devote all of his time into making it happen. It would be sooner—it had to be. But Vytor was not willing to allow his extreme hopes about it to be known, there was after all the greatest joy to celebrate about his Circle being whole once again.
“I understand, newest brother. We are as one, so I can say you are the hope that will save my race, and we are honored, as you can feel.”
Ramon stepped forward to follow Vytor, and then he wobbled, he was unused to his new sense of balance, as he once again demanded, “How did you revive my arm and leg?”
“Your Circle saw the damage and repaired the injuries. We hope it is satisfactory?” Vytor’s telepathic question was asked in what appeared to be outward innocence. Then he further explained, “The Circle is whole once again, Ramon. You have healed our great wound as we have healed yours.”
Ramon hesitated to criticize Vytor and the Circle for their unwarranted healing. That they’d never considered asking troubled him. Easily, they could be thought of as Gods by Earths ignorant. It was a fact he would do well to consider. In the end, he could only shrug his shoulders.
“Thank you,” he said.
Freshly aware of his new powers, Ramon still preferred to use his voice, and he ventured a question that had been upmost in his thoughts, since he’d first arrived on the Makkars home world.
“Vytor, what is going to happen to the Variants and their women the Esa abducted from Duvall Station?”
Vytor’s matrix immediately started to show duller shades of green, and Ramon realized Vytor
was as worried as he was.
The dilemma had started on the day the Esa forces had arrived at Duvall Station prison colony to escort Ramon back to the Makkars home planet. That day had been filled with confusion and it was compounded by the fact no one had considered the two races were unable to speak to each other. Both languages were too foreign to comprehend, and not one Makkar had come along.
The Esa were fierce red aliens, unimaginable in human terms, and vastly efficient. Without hesitation, they’d collected all the inhabitants of Duvall Station. Ramon had tried gesturing and explaining to them it was only he that was to go with them, but it had done no good.
Ramon knew he should be grateful that the fierce alien warriors hadn’t killed anyone, because by then he’d realized what a tremendous effort it had been for the Esa to curb their natural fighting instincts.
Variant men and women, and a small contingency of natural born military personnel had all been forced aboard the Esa ships that day. Approximately twelve hundred individuals were abducted and about a fourth of those were women.
Ramon had known very little about the Esa at the time. But even he, being completely uneducated in their ways, had seen something important occurred when the Esa first saw the women. It wasn’t until the group had landed on the Makkars home world that he, as all Makkars, had discovered the cause. It would prove to be a crucial event with far-reaching consequences.
The Esa had discovered they could receive Talis from females.
“I still do not comprehend how females emit Talis without knowing it,” Vytor sent, while he glided beside Ramon.
“It certainly needs to be studied. But once again I guarantee the women are not aware that they emit anything—if they even do, which I suspect they do not,” Ramon said.
“If only we could inspire the Variants to join our Circles. Convince them of the lasting joy.” Vytor’s telepathic voice trailed off into uncertainty.
