Writers of the Future Volume 31

by L. Ron Hubbard

  Even though Father Isaac assured me that the Tok would not be harmed, I thought it might be safer to take them to the site of their ancestors’ ancient city. That way, they’d be safe while in their most helpless state, and once they emerged, they’d be able to call their people from far enough away to avoid risk to the Colony.

  But Layfe had different ideas. We’d argued about it earlier that morning, when we were alone inside the largest of the colony’s six greenhouses. We were propping up the heavy fruit-laden branches of the avocado trees. He wiped his sweaty face on his sleeve and glared at me.

  “You heard Father Isaac. Nothing’s going to happen, Ettie. They’re depending on us to take care of them. I’m not going to abandon Botto out in the middle of nowhere. She could get eaten. Or freeze to death. Or dehydrate.”

  Layfe and Botto had been as inseparable as Vox and I. Now that they could speak, the other children completely accepted Vox and Botto as odd-looking distant cousins. Only Rae kept her distance, although she wasn’t really one of us anymore.

  “Vox says that we can place them in a cavern or bury them. It will keep them safe from predators and the elements. They’ll be fine. You can’t watch her every minute, Layfe.”

  A stubborn expression I knew well came over his face. “You can’t tell me what to do anymore, Ettie. Botto wants to stay here with me.”

  So that afternoon, with Vox strapped in the seat beside me in the hovercraft, the two of us raced across the rocky terrain, past the weathered cliffs, soda marshes, and craters I’d explored with Lyle. In minutes, we’d traveled farther from Dominion than I’d ever been. He’d never been to the site itself, but he retained a memory of its location.

  He seemed completely relaxed. Surprising since this was his first trip in a hovercraft. I could feel him purring in my mind.

  “You’re not scared.”

  “The sensation of air travel is a shared memory.” He directed me east, toward the lip of the largest crater we’d seen yet.

  We flew in a slow spiral up and parallel to the outer walls, our eyes riveted to the top. As the ship crested the rim, I marveled at the sheer size of the impact footprint. According to the ship’s sensors, the diameter of the crater spanned more than a mile. There was nothing to indicate a city of half a million Tok had once lived here.

  He gasped.

  I reached for his hand. “Oh Vox, I’m sorry.”

  “My memories of this place are of how it looked when my people lived here, and the pain they felt as they left this world behind.”

  I scanned the floor of the crater, all the while feeling his despair build. Layfe had been right. I couldn’t leave him here. Not like this.

  “Let’s go back. There are caves much closer to Dominion which would keep you safe, and I’ll be able to look in on you.”

  He nodded. “Thank you, Etta. I am afraid the shock has accelerated my need for dormancy. I must sleep soon.”

  I turned west, back toward Dominion. I knew of a crevice in the cliffs near the lichen fields which was big enough. I could seal up the front with stones and he would be safe.

  “Tell me, Etta. Will you mate with Lyle? Your mind is not clear on this.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “What? Why do you ask?”

  “When I wake, I will be an adult. I will call my people and they will come for me. You are my mind-mate. I would bring you too.” His voice sounded strained. His mind, a whirl of undecipherable thoughts.

  I grinned at the idea of traveling across the universe to meet the Tok. To live among them and—

  No.

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Vox. I’m not Tok. Dominion is my home. My responsibilities are with the Colony. When I become a woman, I will bear the children of the next generation. The Colony is depending on me.”

  “That is what you have been taught. But you are not capable of bearing a ’uman child.”

  “Don’t say that! Father Isaac thinks I can.” My hand went to my swollen abdomen, which had been sore to the touch for days. I’d been praying it was going to happen, that I would get my period. That I would finally be a woman. This had to be it. “Why would you say such a thing?”

  He fell silent; but I felt the pain in him, and regretted my anger.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you.”

  “I understand.” He closed his eyes and was quiet for the rest of the trip. I tried to mind-speak with him, but he refused to respond.

  By the time we arrived at the crevice, I recognized the signs of his impending dormancy. A dull glaze covered his eyes; his skin had begun to thicken and darken. His limbs were stiff, and he was heavy now, only a little lighter than me.

  All around us, sheer cliffs rose some forty vertical feet above our heads, shading the crunchy gravel beneath our feet. The twin suns had already passed the halfway point of midday, but the narrow vale retained the suns’ heat long after suns-set.

  I took him to a particularly narrow place where a horizontal fissure had developed in the cliff face. There was a natural shelf about shoulder height with an opening some five feet wide, two feet high and more than a dozen feet deep. The opposite cliff face was only a few yards away here, so it had a very safe and secluded feeling. I hoped the peppery scent of the abundant lichen growing on the rocks would help him feel at home.

  After helping him into a comfortable position deep inside the dusty crack, I began to build up a wall of flat stones and gravel to disguise the entrance. Already, I could feel his mind withdrawing from mine; fading. He was leaving me. I felt a lump rise in my throat.

  I wiped my nose on my sleeve. I was being silly. Getting this choked up about Vox going dormant was ridiculous. He was safe and that was all that mattered. And it was only for a few weeks.

  Just before I closed off the crevice and sealed him in, he twisted his head blindly toward me one last time.

  “I love you, Etta.”

  My lips trembled, and I fought the strange, competing emotions welling up within me. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

  I could feel his love for me, even as Gehnny’s voice echoed in my head. I could not remember when I’d heard those words from anyone but the children, but there was a different tone to this declaration of love from Vox.

  One that made my heart race.

  In all our time together it never occurred to me to ask him if the Tok loved, or whether love was a uniquely human emotion. They must, certainly. But here he’d confessed his feelings to me aloud and I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to respond.

  And then it was too late. His beautiful brown eyes grew opaque and he was gone. I was alone and empty as a shell.

  “Sleep well, Vox.” I love you too.

  13

  “The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on.”

  —William Shakespeare, Henry VI

  From the instructional archives of the grounded SS Dominion

  Two weeks later, we moved the lapid cocoons into the walk-in freezers onboard the Dominion. I worried that the adults would insist on moving the pupae of Botto and Vox into the freezers as well, but Father Isaac assured me that we still had much to learn about the Tok and promised they would be perfectly safe locked inside the storage shed.

  I didn’t say a word. Not a lie, exactly. If they thought Vox was safely locked in the shed, and that made them feel better, who was I to spoil things? I felt better knowing he was hidden in that crevice near the lichen field. Everyone was happy.

  The whole colony was involved in making preparations for the upcoming womanhood celebration for Rae and me, and the building of the new private dormitory.

  I secretly hoped to join Rae in the ranks of true womanhood before the party.

  My lower abdomen felt bloated, just as Rae and the other women described. And although no one had mentioned it being lumpy, mine definitely was. And ten
der to the touch. I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure. I wanted my announcement to be as big as Rae’s had been. I tried not to think about it too much, afraid that if I did, it wouldn’t happen.

  I was in the greenhouse, pollinating pepper blossoms when Layfe came running up, out of breath.

  His face was sweaty, his eyes wild. “Did you take Botto?”

  My heart skipped a beat. Something had happened. Something bad. Instantly my thoughts went to Vox. I fought to keep my voice calm.

  “No. I haven’t even looked in on her since she went dormant. What’s wrong?”

  His expression hardened. “She’s missing.”

  “Maybe one of the kids moved her.”

  “No. She was too big for the cupboard, so Simon helped me put her in one of the empty bunks with a blanket over her. She’s too heavy for one of us kids to move without help.” He began to tremble. “What do we do?”

  “Come on, let’s talk to Father Isaac.”

  We hurried to his lab, and found Robert, Mother Jean, Bekke, and several other adults already there, observing Father Isaac’s dissection of Botto’s pupated corpse. Their guilty expressions said it all.

  As soon as Layfe saw Botto, he gave an anguished cry and buried his head into my shoulder.

  The sight of Botto’s lifeless body spread out on the cold steel of the examination table like some laboratory science project sickened me.

  “Why?” I tried to finish the sentence, but the words would not come. I had never leveled an accusation against the adults before. I was the good one. I did as I was told. I was the example for others. I tried again. “What have you done?”

  Chunks of white tissue, floating within clear glass containers, filled with preservative, stood in neat rows on the counter behind Father Isaac.

  “What should have been done as soon as we saw what they were!” Robert’s face held the high flush of righteous indignation. Mother Jean stood rigidly beside him.

  “It was already too late to do anything.” Father Isaac smiled sadly. “It was dead when they brought it to me. As it happens, I have to agree with their decision to destroy the cocoon. Where is the other one?”

  His face, always so sincere and so caring, was a lie. Bekke’s too.

  I shook my head. “I don’t understand. You said yourself that they’re intelligent, advanced beings.”

  “They’re mimics. The young can change their bodies to adapt and blend in with the dominant species. The DNA of the creature in this cocoon is almost a genetic match to a human.”

  “An abomination!” Mother Jean’s eyes bored into mine.

  Robert stepped around the table. “We cannot allow them to contaminate the gene pool.”

  I held up my three-fingered hands, spreading my fingers wide. “Look at me! Look at Layfe! We’re different. Would you kill us too?”

  “It’s not the same,” Bekke answered. “You are our own children. The differences between us are the result of the genetic virus.”

  “All our lives, you’ve told us that the future of the human race depended on us, on our differences and ability to survive and adapt to the conditions on Hesperidee. The Tok have already mastered that ability. If they can make themselves into a genetic match for us, why can’t they be considered human too?” My voice cracked. “What makes us human and them not?”

  I blinked rapidly, trying to fend off tears, as the adults stared down at me in silent judgment. “All those DNA samples you took from me. From all us kids. With all our adaptive mutations, we’re not really human anymore, are we?”

  The kindly expression disappeared from Father Isaac’s face. “That’s enough.”

  Then the realization hit me. My voice came out a croak. “Or is it just me? Maybe there’s a reason I’m not a woman yet.”

  Anger flickered in Father Isaac’s eyes. “Where is the other pupa?”

  I chewed my lip as I backed toward the door. “No. You can’t ask me to do this.”

  Robert, who was closest to me, made a sudden lunge. He grabbed at my wrist, but I twisted away before he could catch me. I hit the double doors of the lab with both hands and was out of there.

  I heard Father Isaac telling him in a cool voice, “Let her go. She’s got nowhere to run.”

  I didn’t care.

  I raced down the corridors until I reached the air locks, tears streaming down my face. I slammed the doors open and sped out into the heat, even as I knew they could not pursue me without oxygen suits.

  Once outside, I kept running—past the dormitory, past Lyle and his men in their enviro-suits, working on the new residence, past the cement barricades and through the front gate to the wide stony plain.

  I forced myself to turn away from the lichen fields, where Vox’s pupa was safely hidden. Instead, I sprinted toward the soda lake where Lyle and I often walked. Beneath the delicate fronds of silver-grey lichen trees, where the afternoon heat wasn’t so intense.

  I made my way to a flat-topped boulder that made a natural bench overlooking the pond. I sat with my arms wrapped around my knees, staring across the shallow yellow-green water.

  They’d killed Botto. How could they do such a thing? They’d cut her into little pieces and dissected her because she was almost human. It didn’t matter that she was intelligent, or childlike, or had been living among us for four months.

  And then there was the other truth, the one I couldn’t quite believe. That I wasn’t human, either. The genetic virus experiment had worked a little too well on me.

  I rocked for what seemed like hours, my mind numb. What would happen to me now? What about the other kids? Or was I the only one?

  I fell asleep, or maybe I just passed out. I woke moaning, lying on my side in a fetal position.

  I examined my hands. So ugly. My thick, rubbery, dark skin. I wanted to tear it off. None of the adults had skin like mine. If I’m not human, what am I?

  Vox had been right. Somehow, he’d known I would never have children. A feeling of inconsolable sadness washed over me.

  I thought of Gehnny, and how much I missed her.

  There was nothing I could do about it. I remembered Father Isaac telling me it didn’t matter. I was part of the Colony, and always would be. He’d also said that no harm would come to the Tok, but look what he’d done to Botto.

  Would they cut me up, too? How could I have ever believed him?

  Vox wouldn’t lie to me. The Tok were incapable of lying. No one who hadn’t experienced their mind-speak could possibly understand that. Yet the Tok would never be accepted into the Colony. They were other, and not to be trusted.

  I didn’t know what to do.

  I couldn’t go back. I’d made a big scene, and refused to give them Vox. If I wasn’t part of the Colony anymore, where would I go?

  I heard the hovercraft approach, and moments later, Lyle set it down beside the marsh. When he gave me a wave from the cockpit, relief flooded through me.

  Lyle appeared calm and took his time, strolling along the edge of the lake until he reached me. He motioned to me to scoot over and squeezed himself next to me on the boulder, his silver suit crinkling as he made himself comfortable.

  “You all right?”

  Even through the breather, I could hear the authentic concern in his voice. I nodded. I didn’t trust myself to say anything.

  “Father Isaac told me what happened. I know you’re upset. Everyone is. What Robert and Jean did.” He shook his head. “Well, that was wrong. I think. But I don’t know. And that’s the whole thing of it, Ettie. Nobody really knows for sure what the Tok’s intentions are.”

  I picked at a bit of lichen from the boulder we were sitting on and twirled it between my fingers. The Tok had been such adorable babies. No one cared that they were different then.

  “They wouldn’t hurt us. I know it.”

  “The
fact is, we can’t take the chance. We’re barely hanging on by our fingernails here. We need every person pulling in the same direction. And as long as the Tok are here, they’re a distraction. A misdirection. A risk.”

  He held his hand out for the bit of lichen and I gave it to him. He held it up to his face mask to sniff and I laughed, even though it wasn’t really funny. Old habits die hard.

  He flicked it into the water, where it floated, creating the barest ripple across the surface. “Yeah, okay, maybe they’re great and more advanced than humans will ever be. But they aren’t us, and they never will be.”

  “But if they’re just like us—”

  “The idea to destroy the pupae was all Robert and Jean’s. But now that it’s done, people are kind of relieved, to be honest. We don’t want them in the colony.” He put his arm around my shoulders. “We want you. We need you back, Ettie.”

  I leaned into him as I stared out across the still, green-grey water. It was so quiet here. Peaceful.

  I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. I wanted things to be the way they had once been. Before the lies. Before they killed Botto. Before I found out I wasn’t human enough.

  “Layfe said you took Vox out to one of the craters. You don’t have to tell me where, just let me know if he’s gone.”

  He was trying. Even through the bulky enviro suit, I could see that. Maybe that was why I’d gravitated toward him instead of Robert. It wasn’t attraction. Bekke was right; Lyle was a good man.

  I nodded. “He’s gone. When he wakes up, he’ll call his people and they’ll come for him. He asked me if I wanted to go with him.”

  “I’m not sure I like the sound of that. Your place is here with us.”

  My hand slid to my stomach. So tender. Something had to be happening. If only I could be sure. “I might not ever be able to have children. I might not be …” I couldn’t finish.