“Standard procedure. What else did that include?” I wanted to know everything. The nip of the cold floor rose up and into my lower back, and I shuddered when its chill reached my shoulder blades.
Garran drew his knees closer to his chest, and I heard him exhale. “I’m-I’m not sure. After preliminary tests are performed, additional examinations are dependent upon the type and origin of the species.”
“I don’t want to die.” I choked. My throat tightened, but my eyes remained dry. I was out of tears, dehydrated. I hadn’t had the motivation to take a sip of water.
“I will do what I can,” he said softly and lowered his chin to rest upon his knees.
We were both silent for several minutes, and if I closed my eyes and concentrated, I could hear his steady breathing before and after the undulating wall hit the ceiling or the floor and made its next ascent or descent.
“I want to stop him. It needs to end.” Garran’s voice had a new timbre to it—stronger, steelier. But maybe his intonation meant something else. “Not just with you, but with all of them. I will change things when I am…”
“When you are what?”
“Fifteen days,” he said softly.
“What? What do you mean, fifteen days?”
“Your next examination takes place in fifteen days.”
That meant I had just over two weeks to live.
I gasped in a series of spasms, trying to catch my breath as my body shook and became ill with an explosive wave of dread that settled like a heavy, foreign mass in the pit of my stomach. Dead at twenty. To die here on a strange planet I’d never seen and without any friends or family. Except for an alien named Garran.
“America.”
“Yes, Garran,” I managed to answer, my voice raspy from tense muscles in my throat. I calmed my body just enough to part my lips. I liked his name. It matched his build—tall and strong—from what I could make out through the milky wall. He was big—much bigger than I was—I wondered how small my hand would look in his palm, and something tightened low in my stomach.
“How old are you?” I asked. I knew he was completing his second year of higher education, but I still didn’t know his age. I wanted to know. Needed to know everything about him.
“Twenty-one, according to Earth standards. Since my birth, Earth has orbited its sun one and twenty times, while in my galaxy Enestia has circled its suns two and twenty.”
“Suns?”
“Yes, there are two, one providing more thermal energy than the other.”
“So, is the temperature of your planet higher than mine?” Maybe this room was climate controlled to match that of Earth’s.
“No, they are similar, but two suns create a climate that is consistent on all four hemispheres. Earth comprises five, um, what’s the English word? I apologize for my mispronunciations when it comes to your language. I think the word is biomes. Enestia only has two of them.”
“Mispronunciations? Your English is awesome for an alien,” I said. In fact, there was so much more about this guy that made me want to be near him. Like his bravery in coming to see me, despite knowing he’d be punished. He wasn’t like the one who hurt me. He was different. I wanted to see how different.
Garran described Enestia’s forests, rich with flora and fauna, and explained the makeup of the planet’s atmosphere, its troposphere being composed of oxygen and nitrogen in percentages equivalent to that of Earth. The images were so vivid in my mind. I closed my eyes and saw patches of moss he called jessom stretching over boulders, and cherry bees buzzing past my ear, their bodies glowing red in the sun.
“I want to see it. Take me outside,” I said, lost in Garran’s words, momentarily forgetting that I was naked, confined to a gray cell, and slated to die in a couple of weeks. “Something beautiful. I want to see something beautiful before I…”
“I’d like to,” he announced. “I’d take you to the palace gardens now if I could, and then I’d take you home.”
His posture stiffened, he raised his hand, and for a minute, I thought he’d push it through the thick goo of the containment wall. But he stopped short, his palm an eighth of an inch from suffering the same fate as my fingernail and food cubes.
I lifted my hand to meet his on the other side, bringing my palm close enough to feel a ripple of soft airwaves, a byproduct of the wall’s undulation. Garran spread his fingers, and I did the same, matching his movement.
His hand was bigger than mine, the fingers thick but well-proportioned to their length, the blur identical to that of a human’s. And as I held my palm in place, but coming as close as I could without touching the crystalline wave, heat grew against my skin, and I wished it generated from the warmth of Garran’s hand instead of the pasty goop.
What did this alien look like? With a hand so comparable to that of a human’s, how could the rest of him not be similar?
“I want to see you,” I blurted.
“And I you,” said Garran.
His admission sent my insides into a pleasant spin. Maybe I was mistaken, but his tone promised he was interested in more than just studying me. Like he wanted to see me because we had a connection we both wanted to deepen.
He pushed up from the ground and stood. I followed, our movements in unison until we were face-to-face, two non-descript smudges of color to each other like gingerbread cookie cutouts, a boy and a girl.
“You look like a human,” I said, and as I looked him up and down, noting his broad shoulders and the V cut of his upper body, the chill at the base of my neck became a warm tingle. Once again, that my life would end in fifteen days was pushed to the back of my mind.
“And you an Enestian.” He laughed.
“Is there a difference?” I asked, wanting to know so badly. I produced an image of him in my mind, something I hoped he looked like—tall, built, and handsome with the blue surfer eyes I adored.
“Yes, very much so. A difference you cannot see from behind that wall.”
“And what difference is that?”
“Our bodies are covered in shell.”
“Shell?” He’d said something about that before, something about a scan. The picture I constructed in my mind withered and redeveloped as a human covered in something like that of a chicken egg.
“Yes, that would be the translation in English,” said Garran.
“How, I mean, wouldn’t it break…?”
But a voice shot from the other side of the wall, high pitched and foreign, a string of words and awkward blend of clicks and delicate intonations.
“I need to go and quickly,” said Garran. “The guard assigned to this cellblock is returning to his station.” Another blur joined his, a petite form that threw its hip to one side as it stood across from me. “I can’t let him find me here.”
“Fifteen days. Please, stop it from happening, Garran. Please, don’t let me die.”
“I’ll do everything I can to stop it. I—”
The blur grabbed Garran’s upper arm, and just as I was about to ask him when he could return, both of them were gone, and I was left with a shell-covered human form in my mind’s eye. It didn’t seem gross and disgusting like it should. It was something I desperately wanted to see.
Fifteen days. I had to see Garran before I died. “Fuck this place,” I screamed.
Chapter Twelve
Garran
I had two weeks to gain access to the human’s cell and the lab. But now, actually seeing her might not be enough. Maybe I could stop my father and his team. To do so would be an act of treason, and I knew the consequences. But could I sit back, do nothing, and let America die a slow, cruel death? I wasn’t sure, considering the cost—my title, my fortune, and maybe even my life. America’s soft silhouette erupted in my mind, and her last words to me eclipsed any price as I sat down at the dining room table.
“Father, may I have a moment?”
“Just a moment, or more?” my father said gruffly, tugging at his embellished tunic and brushing a crumb of
kismick bread from his lap. It fell onto the sleek, glass tabletop to join several more and glow amber within the table’s under lights.
“Maybe more. It depends,” I answered, setting down my goblet of fermented quip nectar. “I have a question. Actually, it’s more like a proposition.” Now was the perfect opportunity, since Murelle decided to skip dinner with us and dine with a cousin.
“A proposition from a prince to the king? Ask, my naive prince.”
Naive? Hardly! My skills in weaponry and aviation exceeded my father’s. He was a scientist, a man of inquiry and investigation. He stayed out of wars by advertising our wealth and the fact that our Enestian defense systems could destroy a small planet. My father could never lead an army, but due to his experiments and clever propaganda, he probably wouldn’t have to anyway.
“I’ve been thinking, Father, that I’ve been doing myself a disservice by not following in your footsteps.” My father straightened his back and leaned forward on his sitting cube. “Lately, I’ve been finding my studies rather daunting, and in many ways, unnecessary. With your permission, I’d like to accompany you to the lab on a daily basis and assist you with your research. And I’d like to withdraw from advanced piloting class and replace it with intergalactic biology if that’s okay with you.”
He didn’t speak right away. His eyes narrowed as he reached across the table for another glasshouse grape. He popped it into his mouth and snapped his fingers in the air. A Timuary holding a narrow-necked decanter rushed to the dinner table to refill the king’s glass with quip wine.
“Fine. The next time I have a relevant specimen in my lab, you’re free to join my team.”
“Relevant? What about the Erublian you told Murelle and me about over dinner last week?” And what about the earthling, you liar?
“The Erublian lasted no more than a few days. They are uncivilized, nomadic, soft-shelled creatures. No match when it comes to the Enestian deterrents.”
“And the Erublian was the last of your relevant captives?”
“I’m afraid so.” My father glanced away and snatched his glass from the table as he continued to lie, but why? What made having a human within the walls of cell fifteen so different from any other creature my father felt was worthy of examination?
“That’s too bad. I was really looking forward to trying something different,” I groaned. It couldn’t wait. I had to get involved in my father’s work as soon as possible.
“No one’s stopping you from enrolling in intergalactic biology. If you want to follow my lead, that’s a good start,” he said with his nose in the air.
“Do you think I can at least come to the lab every day after I leave the conservatory, you know, to start learning about the research equipment, the containment cells, and the quarantine and examination procedures?” That might grant me access to America’s cell with a shell scan.
If I was caught, I could handle the formal reprimand and blame my actions on my curiosity and spontaneity, two traits my father, on more than one occasion in the recent past, had proudly admitted that I’d inherited from him.
But to save America from death? Did I dare to defy the king?
My father’s brow ridge lifted. “And this is all about following in my footsteps?” he asked, tapping his finger against his thick chin. “This is coming from you, the boy who at the start of the term challenged my authority and the way I rule this planet. You suggested that peace could be gained through negotiations and mutual trust rather than enacting terror in the minds of our contemporaries, claiming it would be a more effective way of maintaining our, let us say, caustic yet noble reputation?”
“Yes, Father. But now I know I was wrong. I freely admit that I’ve come to my senses. When I’m ambassador, my skill in the art of rhetoric will be most advantageous, but secondary when it comes to instilling fear throughout the galaxies,” I said, leaning forward and purposely holding my goblet exactly the way my father did, with my index finger extended. “Honestly, Father, was it that foolhardy for me to believe in dialogue, debates, and compromises? And what does that matter, now that I understand the veracity of your ways and the errors of mine?”
My father reclined in his chair, the cube’s high back bending to accommodate his weight, took a long sip from his golden cup, and plopped another glasshouse grape into his mouth.
“It’s just amusing you should ask about joining my team.” He chuckled, his eyes glazed from drinking too much quip liquor.
“Why? I see nothing funny in wanting to expand my knowledge of my father’s duties.”
“Because Murelle asked me the same question less than an hour ago.”
“What? I had no idea.”
What in the galaxy was that sister of mine up to? There was no way she could have known of my desire to obtain access to the research lab and its adjoining cells, but if she had, asking for admittance into the lab is exactly the first thing she’d do. She would do anything to one-up me and jeopardize my cause.
“Did you—”
“No,” my father interrupted after taking another slug from his goblet. “Your sister has no business in the lab. You, on the other hand, should learn the basic principles of abduction and dissection if you’re going to, as you suggested, follow in my footsteps. With your eventual rule of Enestia, those skills are a must.”
“Then, Father, I’d like to begin right away. I don’t want to wait until the next relevant abduction.”
“Fine.” He snapped his fingers in the air, then spoke jovially into his communication cuff while a Timuary topped off his goblet with the flux-colored wine. “Huskus, prepare the Trispian for dissection. The prince thinks he’s ready to join us in the lab.”
Huskus, the lead scientist, joined my father briefly in a laugh before he stopped himself and spoke. “Yes, your royal.”
“Come, my young prince.” As the king stood, the violet wine sloshed from the top of his cup and dripped from his fingers. “I’m ready for some post-dinner entertainment.”
Entertainment? Was I ready for this? No, but it was necessary if I decided to eventually sneak into the lab, see America, and try to save her from death.
The security of the lab and its adjoining cellblocks were true to the map Lestra and I generated days before in my room. When we reached the Trispian’s cell, my father stood, his shoulders locked, and a narrow beam of light broadened in fan-like fashion to ride the contours of his ridged frame. To override my own scan, Slaine Timuary typed a code into the monitor, but my attempt to get a peek at the code was futile, with his body partially blocking the monitor. It would have been too long to memorize anyway.
“Come, my boy,” said the king as a double door unsealed and opened. “Let’s see if you’re ready to become a real man.”
I met his comment with a false smile and followed him through the door. The poor Trispian was huddled in the corner and cowered when my father, holding a shock rod, approached it and nudged it from its cell. Two shocks from the rod were enough to force the creature into the hall and down to the lab. With each shock, the Trispian’s back had arched, its jaw clamped shut, and it let out a wail between tight teeth. I grew sick with the knowledge of the creature’s fate.
I’d never seen a Trispian in person, but I’d heard of their planet—Trispia. This specimen was larger than the one I’d seen at the virtual zoo when I was a kid and more Enestian in appearance than I’d remembered. Wearing a white coat, Huskus met us in the hall and ushered the soft-shelled creature into the lab, and my father and I followed. It was my first time in the there.
To my left and right, long counters held the products of my father’s research—clear, cylindrical jars stuffed with the remains of many aliens. Heads, arms, torsos, some shelled and others de-shelled, their unsupported internal structure a globular mass of unrecognizable tissue, were suspended in liquid, along with internal organs and fetuses from beyond our galaxy.
At half the height of the average adult Enestian male, the Trispian met Huskus at the hip as it
stood waiting and shaking. When my father stepped toward the alien again, it wailed, a hollow screech that hurt my ears but pulled at my heart, making my face plates drop. The king immediately poked it with a shock rod. The creature’s body jerked, and it became silent.
And you consider this creature irrelevant, I wanted to ask when the Trispian’s watery eyes met mine, but I held my tongue, knowing my tone would be one of indignation.
“To the table,” my father ordered. “The prince will assist you.” He winked, and Huskus motioned for me to take the Trispian by the legs as he took its arms.
Once our hands were firmly about the alien, my father gave it a long shock with the rod, holding it at the Trispian’s neck for many seconds while it winced and groaned. The alien’s limbs became limp, and in one motion, Huskus and I lifted it to the table.
Its mobility slowly returned, and just as it tried to wiggle itself from the metal slab, it was sucked back into place by the table’s vacuum. For a creature that normally stood with a rounded back, the act of being pulled flat was more than painful. It screamed, trying to turn its head from side to side, causing the table’s suction to double, and within minutes, the gruesome crack of shell was heard as the pull and weight of its body shattered its rope-like tail.
Hiding my disgust and horror was difficult, especially when my father and Huskus smiled at me, expecting me to do the same, and my father broke into a cruel laugh at the breaking of the Trispian’s shell.
“Are you ready, my dear prince?” asked my father. All I could do was nod and shift my eyes away from the ailing creature. “Then we shall proceed.” He held out his arms, and Huskus quickly fitted my father in a lab coat and gloves identical to his, although my father’s lab attire was in the royal color of green.
“And the prince?” asked Huskus.
“He is here to observe, not to participate,” my father answered sharply. That was a relief. The light hanging above the table illuminated. The Trispian gasped and let out another cry as its sight was obliterated by the bright light, and Huskus tapped a button that sent a small, invisible force from above to seal the alien’s lips closed and pin its limbs to the table. A compartment opened in the wall, revealing an array of shiny dissection knives, and my heart began to pound as wildly as the creature’s upon the table.
Gamma Rift Page 7
