“You can’t do rejuvenations on yourselves, but you can sell the treatments to us, right?” I asked.
“That is correct,” she confirmed. “I’m old, near the end of my natural lifespan, but regardless of my social status or perceived importance to my people, I’m forbidden the very process used on you, Tom.”
I took a chance and ventured, “But your young mate, being a politician, is trying to get that law overturned, isn’t he? If not overturned, at least bent enough for you to undergo the process, right?”
She looked only mildly surprised at my comment, then confirmed it, saying, “Basically, Tom, that is correct. Nothing yet has been passed---”
“But there was more to the ‘deal’, wasn’t there?” I prodded.
B’naah scowled at me for a moment, then hung her head. “Yes---there was,” she admitted, her voice pained. “He…was interested in the human rejuvenation project that was at that time being discussed, and he knew that I was the most qualified to lead it. He convinced me that, by becoming his mate, I would stand a better chance at eventually being chosen to join a select group of older Yularians hoping to receive the rejuvenation process, and in return I was to agree to head the project dealing with the recently-contacted humans.”
“By dangling the enticement of possible rejuvenation in front of you,” I stated, “he got an inside track into the heart of the upcoming human project. Sweet.” L’raan was, to put it mildly, shocked to the tip of her tail. Her revered, high-and-mighty grandmother had just admitted to having feet of clay, and she was so upset she was, for once, speechless.
“Other than putting you in charge of the project,” I prompted, “how much and how often did he interfere?”
I was surprised, myself, when she said, “Actually very little, Tom. He wanted detailed status reports above and beyond the normal documentation, but otherwise he mostly left me to my work---until the procedure was almost finished and you were being prepared for your return home.”
“That’s when you were told to claim he was injured and send L’raan, right?”
“Exactly,” she said, nodding her head wearily. “I was given my instructions and what now seems to be a weak excuse for doing it, and I quickly concocted a scent modification and administered it to you. A few days later you were put into cold sleep, and I pressured L’raan, who was…was deemed best suited for the process, to take my place.”
“The poisoning?” I prodded when she paused.
“No!” she barked. “I had nothing to do with that---I couldn’t have!” B’naah turned to her granddaughter, almost pleading, “I would never have agreed to poison anyone, much less my own granddaughter! When…when Tom called me the day you almost died, L’raan---I guess it was night here---I first thought he had to be lying. I…I’m sorry that I doubted you, Tom, but I simply couldn’t imagine some…monster…doing such a thing---to my L’raan!”
I was beginning to worry that the old vixen would blow an artery, she was so upset.
“But the more Tom told me, and especially when I saw the photos and videos he sent of the pills and the attack by Yularian military devices, I knew that the project had been infiltrated by elements beyond my knowledge.” She hugged her granddaughter. “Child, I’m so sorry I dragged you into this!”
I took a long pull on my cooling mug of coffee, then ventured, “Did you bring your mate into these new developments, B’naah? Who did you confide in, and what were their reactions?”
“Yes, Tom, once you sent me the videos I told him what had happened, but his reaction seemed a bit---strange at the time, and still does.”
“How so?”
She tilted her head a bit, then said, “He seemed to be more annoyed than outraged, although he did promise swift action against the med techs who poisoned L’raan. He also insisted I keep quiet about it, he claimed to allow him to ‘investigate’ the whole affair without scaring off those responsible.”
“The med techs---?” I prompted.
“The two who prepped L’raan for the trip, as well as the two on the ship, were quietly arrested and charged with heinous crimes---and then they disappeared, supposedly shipped off to our prison planet. Inquiries about them brought vague answers, and those who insisted on more information suddenly stopped asking.”
I peered at her over my nearly-empty coffee mug. “Why did you come here, B’naah? You had to know it was both stressful for someone your age, as well as potentially dangerous due to…this.”
“I had to see my granddaughter!” she raged. “I…I had to…to offer her my life, to beg her forgiveness for the…the lies, the deception.” The two vixens held each other tight, tears streaming down their muzzles while they nuzzled and licked one another’s faces. In time the emotional storm passed and B’naah looked at me, and I thought she’d start crying again. “And I had to try to atone for my sins against you, too, Tom. I couldn’t just---”
“Enough,” I stated, holding up a hand. “We’ve covered that and now it’s time to move on, don’t you think?” Standing, I said, “I’m going to get some fresh coffee, and when I come back I’m going to give you both some information that may help bring this into better focus.”
I also had to take a leak. Coffee waits for no man’s bladder.
Chapter 12
Wheels Within Wheels
Body comfort restored and my coffee mug replenished, I returned to the den, and to my two alien houseguests.
Once I’d settled back into my old recliner I said, “Let’s see if we can make sense of this…mess...and I’ll begin by stating that neither of you have all the important elements of this equation.”
Oh, that got their attention! I was glad it did, too, because what I planned to say was going to be hard enough to get through even once---and they weren’t going to like it.
“First off,” I really hated to say this, “we---and I’m speaking for all Earth governments here---we almost nuked the Yularian first-contact ship while it was still in orbit.” Their jaws dropped open in horror, and I was afraid they were going to pee on the couch. “Yeah, it was a close thing,” I said, nodding. “We hadn’t detected any kind of ‘shield field’ around the ship, and we also didn’t know if it had enough defensive capability to knock down everything we’d planned to throw at it---but we were that close to pushing the button…” I held up an index finger and thumb with a quarter-inch of space between them, “…when cooler heads prevailed and we allowed the ship to land.
“You see, we’ve had fictional alien first-contact stories haunting us for over a hundred years; the majority of them terrifying, worst-case nightmares of what could happen. Most of the world powers simply didn’t want to take the chance that your people weren’t ‘friendly’, and I hate to say it but I was one of the ones voting for the side of caution.”
L’raan was the first to regain her voice, and she almost screamed, “You wanted to blow up the ship?”
Shaking my head negatively, I calmly said, “Absolutely not---but I also didn’t want it landing at that time, either. Understand, we didn’t know squat about Yularians, or about any of the other intelligent species your people claimed to have contacted before you found us. In our species’ history we’ve done many ‘first contact’ meetings right here on Earth with other races of humans, and in virtually all cases the more-advanced contacting races have been terribly detrimental to the less-advanced contacted races, often to the point of destroying the less-advanced, weaker races’ societies, economies---even their entire civilizations. Despite your claims of benevolence and economic neutrality, we still feared the worst.” I looked grimly at the horrified alien females and added, “And with the nearly lethal recent events we three have experienced, our fears may turn out to have been justified.”
“B-but---” L’raan stammered, “you and Art told me you became involved long after we made contact with humanity!”
“Yes…we did say that,” I stated with a wry smile, “but that wasn’t quite true. Art caught up with me within an hour
of your first-contact ship’s sighting, and he made sure my elderly butt was planted firmly in the back seat of a supersonic fighter jet---with him at the controls---that took us to Washington, D.C. There we joined a small group of politicians and military brass for a ‘war room’ briefing in the Pentagon. We were linked via teleconference with national leaders of the other major Earth countries, and that’s where we tried to come up with a response to your contact team’s overtures…one that didn’t immediately involve blowing them out of the sky. My government wanted me there because my popular science-fiction stories seemed to portray the most rational, the most balanced first-contact scenarios they’d seen---hopefully more realistic, in fact, than those dreamed up by their military planners. I didn’t know whether to be honored or terrified, and I kept my mouth shut unless directly addressed. One wrong word from me and I feared the military ‘hawks’---the ones who wanted to destroy your ship immediately---would seize the moment and launch a strike.” I shook my head slowly. “It was one of the worst days of my long life, and one I hope I never have to repeat.”
Oh, if I’d only known…
The females took a potty break, and I, too, used that time to again drain the vein, then I freshened my mug of coffee. When they eventually returned---no females known to man could have taken that long to “just pee”---L’raan gave me one of those unreadable looks before stating, “Days ago I asked both you and Art Goldman if I should fear you---but neither of you really answered my question. I will ask it again: Should I fear you, or better yet, should all Yularians fear all humanity?” Her grandmother had been unusually silent for some time, and as best I could tell she had a distinctly “haunted” look on her vulpine features.
It took me a while to decide just how to reply to L’raan’s question; what to say, how to say it---and what to leave out. Eventually, “There are parts of this...this 'equation' I simply cannot divulge at this time. I don’t like it, and you’re both right not to like it, but I dare not risk what is now coming to be known as The Enemy finding out certain key details.” I held up both hands to quiet the righteous protests that the vixens were about to unleash on me. “I’m not saying the two of you would go blabbing everything to anybody who’d listen---but what if one or both of you were captured or tortured or, God forbid, had your brains vacuumed by some insidious method, all to gain knowledge of what I’ve told you? I can’t take that chance. Humanity can’t take that chance!”
“What happens if you, Tom, are captured and subjected to the very same ‘information extraction’ methods you claim to fear might be used on us?” B’naah asked. “When I performed your rejuvenation, I wasn’t aware of any ‘suicide bomb’ implanted in your skull that could be triggered should these Enemies get their claws on you.”
I sighed, unhappy at what I had to admit. “In that, my dear physician, you are sadly mistaken. The ‘suicide bomb’ implanted in me is very real; it’s just not a physical device. Shortly before I left Earth to undergo the rejuvenation treatment I was ‘gifted’ with a type of wipe and burn hypnotic conditioning that I can trigger in an instant. Should I determine I’m at risk of ‘spilling my guts’ to an Enemy, I can turn myself into a mental vegetable, a literal ‘bone bag’ with no more memory---or intellect---than a kernel of that corn you ate last night. Almost every day since I’ve been back has brought me new details about this mess, and the more I learn, the more it scares me silly.” I took a hard pull on my coffee. “Ladies, this thing is turning out not to be what we initially thought---it’s far, far worse.” Their eyes got bigger. “We’re talking total species survival here.”
“War?” L’raan asked, her voice barely audible.
I slowly, sadly shook my head no, and, eyes so wide I thought they’d pop from her skull, B’naah put the proper name to it:
“Genocide.”
Chapter 13
Ties that Bind…
Genocide.
Such a simple little word to carry so much horror and tragedy. I normally treated it like a pit viper; deadly any way you handled it. Today wasn’t going to be any different.
“But--- But---genocide…of what? Of who?” L’raan cried. “How…how could anybody do such a thing!” Her anguish was so overpowering, she was having trouble breathing.
I peered at both females over the rim of my coffee mug. “The answers to your questions would help us all solve many of the problems we’re having---as in who is behind the attempts on our lives---but I hope you’re not really expecting answers to come floating into our midst like windborne leaves. Ain’t gonna happen.”
That confused them---understandably---so I had to expand my explanation. “Sorry. Here’s what I can tell you: We humans are a naturally suspicious, devious species, probably because we’ve screwed each other over for so many thousands of years, so naturally we didn’t trust our alien visitors. Frankly, we still don’t, but for different reasons now.
“At first we didn’t trust the Yularians, figuring there must be some ugly ulterior motive to your people contacting us ‘poor, primitive’ hairless apes. Then, as we began learning about the three other alien species in your little clique, we started getting even more nervous. Things just didn’t add up. Once we peeled back the veneer of civility among the four space faring species, none of them seemed to like each other---and the three others really didn’t like the Yularians. Why was that?”
The two vixens blinked, glanced at each other, then looked at me with that tilted-head expression that signified they didn’t have a clue. Good!
“The only answers we could come up with at the time were a bit puzzling, but we put them into play until something better showed up. It seems that there is a massive amount of resentment against Yularians for not only forcing space travel---which is horribly expensive---down the three other species’ throats, but also your practice of forcibly ‘uplifting’ the cats, otters and rabbits from the cultures and lifestyles they were comfortable with, to something similar to what your people enjoy. Simply put: They were happy living the way they were, and hated becoming ‘Yularian clones’.
“But they didn’t have a choice,” I intoned. “Your arrival disrupted their somewhat primitive economies to the point that they had to accept your ‘guidance’, which of course required reshaping their societies and cultures into copies of your own. We humans have learned through painful, often lethal experience that making radical changes like that usually breeds deep-seated contempt, and occasionally rebellion.
“And from time to time, such rebellion has led to genocide.”
I could see it in their expressions; they were trying their damnedest to deny my accusation---but they couldn’t. After letting them stew for a few moments I said, “It didn’t take much digging into the other species’ past to realize what had happened, and the discontent was there for anybody to see. When they started learning about humans, though, a new factor reared its head: We’re apparently physically weak, yet we’re predators---very effective predators. We happily prey upon the deadliest cats, and we treat playful, relatively-harmless otters as nuisance animals---when we’re not harvesting them for their fur. Rabbits--- Ah, those we eat, as well as harvest for fur when we’re not treating them as nuisance animals. But apparently the ultimate humiliation for the rabbit-like Ar’kaa is that we also keep rabbits as pets.”
Both L’raan and B’naah appeared to be gearing up for a protest, so I headed that off pronto. “Yes, I know---we humans also hunt foxes for sport, treat them as nuisance animals…and we harvest them for their beautiful fur pelts.” Both females shivered. “At least we don’t eat foxes, although if they were larger, more formidable animals, no doubt they’d enjoy eating humans. I’m told we taste like pork.”
That brought squeals and yips of protest from both vixens, and I held up my hands in defense. “Please! I didn’t say that I hunted foxes; I happen to like foxes! Two really big ‘foxes’ are currently guests in my home, and I consider them to be very good friends!” That seemed to knock them momentarily off-balance,
so I quickly continued, “But I think you can begin to understand how there is a massive amount of deep-down animosity of just about everybody concerned for everybody concerned. This makes for what our military refers to as a ‘target-rich environment’, and the more we humans dug into the situation, the more concerned we became. Very concerned.
“Yularians in general feel superior to everyone else, and granted, your science and technology far outstrips that of the other three furred species, and it’s certainly above ours in several fields; mainly biomedicine and space travel. The bunnies were happy in their somewhat primitive agrarian lifestyle; the otters simply wanted to be left alone; the cats…are much like our own cats. They’re territorial, they don’t like competition, and they really don’t like canids---like Yularians---except maybe to eat.” More squeals and yips from the peanut gallery.
“The thing is, any and all of them have good reason to hate your people, since they view you as both conquerors and oppressors. You also came up with a desirable way to make substantial money from us humans, something the other three have yet to figure out. This breeds jealousy on several fronts since you stand to get money from humans in a way that they cannot compete with, and it’s by offering us a highly desirable service that you’ve never offered to them.” The vixens’ jaws hung open in shock. “Hadn’t quite looked at it that way, hmmm? And when you factor in this additional ‘minor detail’: The exorbitant price you’re planning to charge for the rejuvenation treatment in no way covers the cost of the procedure and the cost of the required space travel--- Well, it gets to be quite a tangled mess indeed, one that we humans have yet to unravel.”
Last Dance of the Phoenix Page 11
