by Jay Korza
“But then the breeding attempts failed.” Doctor Hillstep shushed himself to let Emily finish on her own.
“Exactly!” Emily’s beat wasn’t thrown off by the interruption. “The castaways could only breed so far within their own group so they tried to mix with the Unwutine. Neither species would be nearly advanced enough to understand the problems with trying to breed between the two different sets of DNA.
“So the breeding attempts started and of course failed. Maybe there were some successful attempts even though the chances of that occurring, without advanced medical intervention, are astronomically improbable, it could’ve happened. In the end, somehow, the castaways’ DNA did get added to the DNA of the Unwutine tribes and when it gets turned on, it causes the horrible mutations we’ve seen. That’s the reason the mutated babies are called Hurlkaferncherta. It’s both the laboring castaways and what their breeding attempts create.”
“Wow.” Janine was almost at a loss for words. “If I hadn’t seen you being born, I’d swear you were my daughter and not your mother’s. I think I need to get a DNA comparison between us.”
Emily just smiled broadly at her aunt.
“There are a lot of holes in that very long and complicated theory”, Doctor Hillstep threw out without any preamble.
Emily’s face sagged and her eyes actually begin to tear up just a bit.
“Hey, jerkface.” Janine was addressing her colleague. “You and I are used to having our theories shredded to hell by our contemporaries but she’s not. She’s only sixteen and she came up with that theory without all of the combined decades of education that you and I have put together.”
“It’s okay, Aunt Janine, he’s right. There are a lot of holes in it. Like timeline issues, biology issues, DNA stuff. I could probably make an easier argument for why I’m wrong rather than why I’m right.” Emily took a seat on a nearby crate.
“Oh, honey.” Janine sat with Emily while still giving the evil eye to Hillstep. “There are holes in your theory but there are a lot of solid pieces, too. In fact, I need you to write that theory up so we can include it in our notes and you can get credit for it.”
“Really?” Emily was embarrassed that she had almost started crying over what Hillstep had said.
“Yes, really.” Hillstep tried to redeem himself. “I apologize for attacking your theory like that. In my defense, I have a valid point, but I should be encouraging my protégé and not attacking. I was really just thinking out loud about what we need to do to validate as much of your theory as we can. I really do like where you are going with it.
“In this field, it’s best to come up with your theory, detail it out as much as possible, and then attack it with every brain cell you have. Once you’ve broken down all of the weak points, those are the areas that you give your attention to in order to prove them with more research or disprove them in order to change your theory to a more correct working model.”
“I understand. I shouldn’t have been such a baby about it.” Emily had regained her composure. “One thing we forgot to point out, using the working theory that the slave symbol we found here was somehow tied to the Unwutine language, we checked the other symbols against every character we know from their writings. There isn’t even a slight match between the two languages. Another dead end. And we are no closer to finding what they mean or how to open the chamber.”
“Well, you have only three weeks left before you go home.” Janine was standing again and examining the door. “You have two choices. You can work on shoring up your theory or stay with Hillstep and work on the door some more.”
“I’ll work with Hillstep, if that’s okay.” Emily took the pad from her aunt’s hand. “I can work on my theory from home or any terminal with Net access. But while I’m here, I want to keep learning from the other researchers and maybe rooting around the ruins will give me more clues to add to my theory before I leave.”
“Sounds like a plan to me. But you will go back up top and sit down at a proper terminal away from distractions and write your theory up. I’ll take you up there and show you the templates we use on these digs.” Hillstep wanted to redeem himself to both Janine and Emily, if he hadn’t already. “We’ll come back down here later tonight if there’s time; if not, then first thing tomorrow morning.”
As the three stepped back into the decontamination chamber, Emily realized they hadn’t even needed the suits they were wearing. “Well, this was kind of a waste. Getting into these suits is a pain in the ass and it was for nothing. We didn’t do anything but talk at the door. We didn’t even try to get in.”
Janine just laughed. “That’s the way it is sometimes with these digs. You plan your day one way and end up following a lead or a hunch in a completely different direction. You did good.” Looking over towards Lance, who was still working near the chamber, she added, “Besides, it’s better to have protection and not need it than to need protection and not have it.”
“Aunt Janine!” Hillstep and Emily said in unison.
“What?” Janine said with a failed attempt at coyness.
~
Emily wrote up her theory and added it to the official record of the research team. Over the next few weeks, she scoured the ruins for new clues to help her theory and also advance the project’s understanding of the other writings that were left behind. They never did find a way into any of the sealed rooms they found at the site.
Eventually Janine turned the team over to Doctor Hillstep and she went back to her university to continue teaching. Not too long after returning to the university, she was joined by Emily, who was granted early admission based on the research she had helped with at the dig. Ultimately, Emily used her original theory as her doctoral thesis and was able to prove a lot of what she had originally put forward, though the chambers were still never opened.
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The water was warm and viscous, so different than what Murgag was used to. The sensation was invigorating and even pleasurable as the fluid swirled over his scales, almost as though a hundred pilot fish were embracing him and cleaning him from head to toe. The only downside was the thick fluid also made it feel as if he was swimming with a rope tied around his waist and holding him back; it was damn hard making any progress in the stuff that passed for water on this planet.
Murgag finally reached his destination and planted the device. He couldn’t talk in the fluid so he used his wrist communicator to type a message and send it back to his handlers: Mission complete. With that done, he took a look around and decided to take a different route back to the extraction point. The oceanic life on this planet was extremely interesting and a few of the locals were actually very playful with the new stranger.
Murgag found a few underwater coves that would have been perfect for nesting if he were back home and ready to procreate. Much to his family’s dismay, he wasn’t remotely ready to have any children yet. He had donated his seed to more than one Trizite that was ready, but he just wasn’t emotionally ready to have his own.
Murgag found it odd that when he thought about himself, he used the two-sex species’ concept of a “male.” His species only had one sex, but spending so much time with humans lately, Murgag was starting to think of himself as a “he.” Maybe it was because he had only been a donor so far and not a grower. In most other species, the donor was thought of as the male and the grower was the female.
Trizites lived on average between two hundred and twenty years to two hundred and fifty years, Earth standard time. During that time, they could both donate or receive genetic information from other Trizites in order to procreate. A Trizite could donate at any time during their life but the ability to receive only came a few times, and randomly at that. When the time came to receive, the Trizite could ignore the calling or go find a partner to donate.
Partners were chosen mostly for what their DNA could offer and partly for emotional reasons. Trizites didn’t have sex but the experience was still pleasu
rable. They had soft spikes surrounding their eyes that when rubbed in the correct way, felt extremely wonderful and allowed the receiving pouch in their abdomen to open. The donor then released their seed into the water so it could float into the pouch. Once in the pouch, the material mixed with special stem cells that eventually grew into embryos. One or two embryos would be made and delivered about five months later.
During the last month or so of incubation, the parent would find a place to nest. The nest needed to be in a safe area that could be protected from ocean predators but also in an area that was rich in food for the extremely hungry kids that were about to be born. Unfortunately, areas rich in food were also rich in predators, which made safety very difficult at times.
After the birth, the new family spent the next several months bonding while the younglings were taught basic survival skills. Before the Trizites became a more advanced civilization, the family would spend much more time in this first phase of life in order to make sure the kids could survive on their own if anything happened to their parent. However, in the new age of things, they spent very little time in the nest before returning to civilization. The kids would be taken back to the nesting area several times a month to work on their skills but the old ways weren’t as crucial to survival as they once were.
Murgag had been honored more than once by being asked to donate but the one time his body told him he was ready to receive, he passed up the opportunity because he just didn’t feel ready. His parent had been disappointed but not upset; after all, the parent had passed up their first procreation opportunity also, but had used the next two opportunities to have children. Murgag wasn’t sure whether he would ever feel ready. The fact that he was looking at potential nesting places made him realize that if he just stopped thinking and fretting over it, he would probably be giving in the next time his procreation cycle came around.
Murgag reached his extraction point and the boat that was waiting for him. After climbing on board, he received cheers from his comrades and a kiss on the cheek from his handler, Martha. Her lips brushed up against his spikes and sent a pleasurable chill down his scales. Trizites had absolutely no sexual compatibility with any other known species, so Murgag assumed the kiss from Martha was friendly rather than suggestive.
Martha always seemed to have a soft spot for Murgag, in fact, she was the one who gave him his human-pronounceable name. It was a play on words and an inside joke that no one but Martha and Murgag found funny.
The boat sped away into the night with its occupants, completely unaware that it was followed. The pursuers were using a local species of whale as their pursuit vehicle. The Trizites hanging on to the whale couldn’t talk with the species of this planet but their genetic similarities along with the inherent empathic abilities of Trizites let them urge the whale to do their bidding.
Both parties reached the same destination within minutes of each other. Murgag got off the boat with his fellow conspirators and walked into town with them. Their pursuers also went in to town but not before sending their location and status update to their superiors. It seemed as though everyone was going to get to relax a little before the events waiting to unfold took place later in the evening.
Murgag ate dinner with his friends and decided this planet would not make a good nesting ground; the local seafood was absolutely horrible. The food aside, he was having a great night and feeling rather pleased with their accomplishments. Once they left the planet, the device would do its job and they would be on to their next target. Life was good.
~
Murgag was awakened by harsh vibrations resonating through his sleeping tank. The vibrations were unmistakable to anyone who had ever experienced an explosion under water; the apartment was under attack. Murgag tried to jump out of the tank but never had the chance; at least three other Trizite hands were pulling him out and hitting him repeatedly at the same time. He wasn’t completely unconscious but he was close enough that he wasn’t putting up a fight anymore. He was barely able to register one of the attackers say, “This is the one we need alive. Kill the rest.”
~
Murgag felt the dry abrasive dirt hit his face and chest and he was instantly awake. A fairly large and intimidating Trizite was standing in front of him with a now empty bucket. A slight smirk was rolling across the abductor’s face and his spikes were turning to a purplish hue, highlighting his smugness with a hint of contempt.
“Why are you doing this? Please let me go”, Murgag pleaded, trying his best to make his spikes’ color match his words. Extensive training had allowed him to alter their color and to also block other empaths from feeling his true state of mind. The problem was, both tasks took a supreme amount of effort and he wasn’t in that great of condition right now.
“Oh, please”, the captor moaned. “Do you really think you can fool me? Your spikes tell me everything I need to know. If you really want to play this game, I’m willing to spend the next twenty minutes showing you all of the evidence I have, including photos and video surveillance. Most of the evidence shows you being an eco-terrorist.”
Murgag pulled limply against his bonds. “Me! The terrorist! I am not the one destroying the ocean and all of its inhabitants on this planet!”
The captor smiled. “Fantastic. I am so pleased that we will not be wasting any more time trying to convince each other of who I know you are and who you want me to believe you are.”
“As long as you are pretending to be civil, could you please fill your bucket there with some water and rinse me off?” Murgag’s skin was a combination of scales and smooth skin. The two worked together to create a sleek, fast, and maneuverable swimming platform. Throwing dirt on a Trizite would dry them out and get particles under their scales, which could be extremely painful if left untreated.
“Of course I can. We’re not barbarians here; we just wanted to get your attention right from the onset.” The captor made a slight hand gesture to one of his cronies standing in the back of the room.
A moment later, the crony poured refreshing water all over Murgag’s head. The water washed away most of the dirt but there was still a fair amount of the dirt up under some of his chest scales. He also felt and tasted something familiar in the water.
“Has it been that long since you’ve been home, brother?” The captor made another signal and was brought two glasses of water. The first he kept and the second was brought to Murgag’s lips by the crony.
“Go ahead and drink, brother; the water is from our home.” He took a long drink himself and then regarded the glass as though it held the most prized treasure in the universe. “A little taste of home makes these backwater planets bearable.”
On an emotional level, Murgag wanted to be defiant and not drink the water or drink it and then spit it back at his kidnappers. The logical part of his brain knew that it was more important to keep his strength up and take whatever they offered that would help that agenda. He needed his strength in order to survive, to defend himself, to attack and escape when the time came. So he drank. And it was the best water he had had in a very long time.
“Why”—” Murgag began but was suddenly cut off.
The captor held his hand up in an obvious gesture for silence. “Please. It will be so much easier and quicker if you just let me explain everything to you rather than go through random questions, some of which I would have no intentions of answering anyway.”
He took another drink of water before continuing. “I work for a corporation that is trying to do business on this planet, a business that you and your friends are trying to disrupt. I know that you planted an explosive device somewhere on our pipeline and to be frank, we have no idea where it is. I also know that per your group’s MO, the device is set to explode approximately forty hours after you leave the planet. Your departing flight left the planet six hours ago. We have approximately thirty-four hours until the device explodes and disrupts our operations. A minor disruption, to be sure.”
“If you know all of t
hat, then I guess the only thing you want from me is the bomb’s location.” Murgag motioned for another drink of water and the glass was put to his lips.
“That’s exactly right. We will make it worth your while if you do. You already have something that the rest of your group doesn’t: your life. We would be happy to add money to that already generous gift.” He pulled his chair closer to Murgag and leaned in, almost as though they were conspiring together in this little escapade. “I’m not going to hurt you. I could try torture, but I honestly don’t think I have enough time to get the answers I need. So the truth will have to suffice; I will pay you and free you if you tell me what I need to know. If you don’t, I will simply kill you.”
“Then I have nothing to say. Go ahead and kill me. Try to find the bomb on your own.” Murgag was trying to work his bonds, hoping they might be loose enough to give him at least a fighting chance.
“I said I wouldn’t torture you. I never said I wouldn’t torture your family.” He then held out a datapad that showed Murgag’s parent and two grandchildren. The background in the image was the local planetarium in Murgag’s home city. He knew that his parent had taken the kids to the science fair at the planetarium last week; the image was recent and not doctored.
“If the disruption would be minor, as you put it, then why go to these lengths?” If they had that photo, they must have been watching Murgag and his particular cell for quite a while.
The captor smiled. “A minor disruption to a multi-trillion dollar intergalactic company is a billion-dollar disruption. Paying you half that is much more beneficial to them. It keeps the pipeline running, which makes the investors happy. It means that certain key people don’t lose their jobs because of the security breach. It means that we don’t potentially lose employees in the explosion or the repair effort.”
