by Ma West
God, he was bored, and damn if his nipple didn’t sting. The baroness was convinced that this ship was a place of refuge and healing, but his gut and nipple told him otherwise. It just didn’t make any sense to him. Why attack a planet but save some of its individuals? The whole situation was making less and less sense to him, and his frustration was growing.
At least the baroness had gone off to her meeting or whatever. She was a distraction, and even now here alone, he could still feel her presence. Faint vapors of her perfume would break free from their crevices, float into the receptors, and trigger her in his brain. The past few hours with the woman had been more than ever before, but it was still a far cry away from being a relationship, and he struggled to push her out of his mind.
Thus far, he had gleaned at least four different alien types. They would stroll past his location at seemingly random times, as singles, pairs, and one group of three. It was nothing that would indicate a patrol, nor did any of the aliens appear to be holding or transporting anything. The aliens who moved from his right to his left moved with a greater sense of urgency, but with the vision impairment of the gel glasses, details were impossible to come by.
After some time, he came to the conclusion that perhaps the end of the hallway held a lounge or dining facility, but he wanted to wait for the baroness’s return before he started exploring. Two figures moved in from the left in a hurry. He took note, hopping to his feet. The shapes indicated that one was of the same type that took the baroness away, and the other was the same as the cataloger. They came to the center of the cell and held up a translation stone.
He slowly approached, drawing the annoyance of the tentacle holding the stone, which then shook it up and down. The voices were in his head as soon as he physically touched the stone. “Sorry for the informality, but we are in a significant hurry. Please answer the questions as accurately and thoroughly as possible.” A transparent display appeared out from a wrist device on the being. It showed an image he had seen before on the TV, but it was TV-doctor script talk, as far as he could understand it.
A new voice entered his head. “Identify this genome.” There was a long pause as they obviously waited for his answer. He shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows.
The first voice returned. “Identify the origin of this genome.”
He replied with a long, slow, drawn-out, “Blood.” Despite his hampered vision, there was a clear disbelief in their body language.
The voice returned. “I told you, try the DNA strain.” A new image appeared from the wrist console. This time, it was another image he had seen on the TV before, a circular wire of balls. “Please, to which creature does this DNA strain belong to?”
His hand rose to the back of his head and scratched. “I have no idea. Can I have you zoom out some more?”
A sharp response came back. “Please, this is very important. Your child has this genome strain in its DNA, yet neither you nor your mate has it. Please identify the source.”
“What? First off, I don’t have a mate, much less a child. I’m not a doctor or even a medical hobbyist. I have no idea what the hell you are talking about. Now, how about you start answering some of my questions?” He crossed his arms and stood with his feet shoulder-width apart.
The second voice, belonging to the taller being, came across. “Please, are humans the only sentient being on your planet?”
“What does ‘sentient’ mean?”
An unmistakably angry tone entered the cataloger’s voice. “You humans, why do you have to be so stubborn? We’re trying to save your pathetic little civilization here, and you’re giving us attitude. Why not help those trying to save your species while the rest of your kind gets ready for death?”
The taller being came across now as she gently put her extremities around the barrel shape of the cataloger. “Calm down, calm down. Let me have another try, ok?” The being then entered the cell.
No Tip backed up and entered a combat stance, but to his surprise, after entering the cell, the alien lowered itself as if dropping to a knee. The gesture caught him off guard but wasn’t enough to reduce his rushing adrenaline.
“Please, we must know if humans are the only creatures on Earth capable of upper-level thoughts.”
He answered quickly, keeping his body on alert and at the ready. “What, like a degree or something?”
A groan came across. “Sure, or even something like self-awareness, ability to think and interact with other species?”
“I had a dog once, taught it to ambush the mailman.”
Again, another groan. “No, not like that, not an animal you domesticate but an animal that can have, say, free will.”
“Free will, you mean like when that bastard dog bit me, or my ex decided to cheat—or me, for keeping the dog?”
The two aliens shifted to face each other better. “Is his translation stone broken?” asked the taller alien.
The cataloger said, “No, these humans just don’t get it. They can’t see beyond themselves. So caught up in their little existence that they can’t see we are trying to help.” The anger and frustration were clearly transmitted.
No Tip tweaked an old saying of his uncle’s: “The blind must be taught to see. Navigation by feel is a slow and painful process.”
The taller alien knelt. “To use your analogy, crossing the street is a bad time for a first lesson. Sometimes you just have to grab hold of the nearest hand and trust the universe to lead you to safety.”
He paused a moment, considering. “Dolphins.”
The cataloger excitedly responded. “Yes, yes, dolphins, what habitat does this create live in?”
“The ocean?” The display from the console changed again, this time displaying several sea creatures. He recognized many of them, including squids, whales, sharks, and a few others.
“Please approach and identify the creature known as dolphin.”
He waved his hand, indicating which one was the dolphin. Upon receiving his input, the two aliens began interfacing on both sides of the transparent display. For several minutes, the two were deeply engaged in their computer work before the taller alien turned back toward him. “Now, you are sure that these dolphins are sentient? We have just invested significant resources into their capture.”
“Yeah, sure, I guess. I don’t know.”
The two aliens exited the cell, and their thoughts crept across. “Humans, annoying as hell.”
The translation stones were amazing devices, not quite technology, more than geology, and a little bit psychic, with some intuition. Fengie proved to be an adept teacher, if not a little condescending at times. She explained the stone’s ability to project and absorb not only one’s own but others’ thoughts and feelings too. She also explained that despite the stone’s advantages, many races forbade its usage, and a great many others had enacted usage protocols. She didn’t fail to wish the baroness luck on learning Emottocon, the universal basic language.
After a few practice exercises, they returned to the doctor, who was working furiously at his station. A noticeable change had occurred in both scent and body language. The air here was filled with a clean smell of laundry detergent, and Fergie’s tentacles had stopped swaying.
A shudder passed through the baroness’s body. Fengie went to Fergie, and the two exchanged tentacle embraces. Hissing noises filled the room with a wild array of odors so strong the baroness was forced to back away.
“Ahh, yes, please sit down.” Fergie must have activated a fan, because the smells soon dissipated. “Smell is an integral part of how our species communicate. In fact, it wasn’t until after our own first contact, many generations ago, that we developed verbal thoughts. Chemical commutation proved more effective on our home world, as it is a world with a very dense sky and minimal visibility, with frequent rains. So much so that the animal life has adapted to non-sight navigation.”
“Fergie, my dear, please, there are important matters to attend to. You can babble on later.
Let us get to your discovery.”
The word jolted the baroness’s heart. “Discovery?”
A new image filled every display in the room, and Fergie turned to face the baroness. “Can you identify this genome?”
Having heard the word before was no substitute for actual knowledge of its meaning. “What is a genome?”
A musky smell accompanied Fengie’s reply. “Dear, did the stone not translate, or do you not possess this level of knowledge?”
“I’m not a doctor. How am I supposed to know? What does it mean about my baby? Does my baby have this? Is it good? Tell me something about my baby that I can understand.”
Fengie’s tentacle wrapped around the baroness’s shoulders, and several pads massaged her skin, but Fergie was next to speak. “My dear, your baby is perfectly healthy.” His tone was comforting. “A genome is like an instruction booklet. It tells the body how and even when to develop. Each genome comes in a pair, but they only control one specific trait or characteristic. Both you and your mate have 352 genome pairs, yet your child has 353 genome pairs. This is a most unusual development. Evolution doesn’t occur with additions of genome but by alteration.
“My dear, you could be the mother of the next evolution in humankind. Then again, it might be a hidden trait longing for discovery, or your child will be some kind of freak, but either way, it is very exciting.”
The baroness’s heart sank. The word “freak” fixated in her mind, and images, feelings, and fears rolled through her. “Freak,” the word rattled around her head, and emotions consumed her. Words she had heard many times from girls at the shop and vowed never to utter herself came out unfiltered and raw. “I don’t want this baby. Get it out of me.”
The stench of burning rubber filled the air. Both Fengie’s and Fergie’s skin tones darkened. Fengie removed her tentacle and stepped back as a wave of furious thoughts basted across the baroness’s body. “This is a place of healing! You will leave your murderous, barbaric practices behind. Life is the most precious of all currencies. This is the Arkapeligo, the greatest mission undertaken by life, for life. We are its stewards, healing its injured and curing its diseased, and catalogers of its essence. We will have no more of such talk.”
The lecture extracted the internal conflict within her, and the baroness bawled for several minutes. Then the smell returned to normal, and Fengie placed a tentacle on her shoulder. The baroness’s words came out in babbles. “Everything is just changing so fast. I’m so scared I don’t know what to do.”
Chapter 10
Aragmell
The prospect of food was enticing. The baroness was still away, and No Tip debated whether to seek out food and have it ready for her or await her return and seek it out together. This debate eventually led to a compromise. He would scout out the nearby area to minimize his time away.
He had gone no more than eight steps when one of the taller, more slender aliens approached him and handed him a tiny stone, the diameter of a pen cap, covered in a sticky substance, and indicated that he should put it in his ear. The thought of putting this alien object in his ear churned his stomach, and he tried to wave it off. The alien insisted, grabbed his arms, and forcibly rolled the stone into his right ear. “You will come with me,” the voice commanded.
Obviously the alien possessed superior strength, but he never liked being manhandled and was in no mood for this kind of treatment. “I will NOT!”
“You have an appointment with a specialist. I am here to escort you. Now please come this way.” The alien began to walk but became frustrated by the inaction of his patient. “I apologize for forcing the stone into your ear, but we have a strict time crunch, and the other sectors of the operation are demanding information critical to the success of this mission.”
The softening of tone again caught him off guard. This place was never quite what he expected. “What kind of specialist? What mission are you talking about?”
There was a short pause. “I will answer your question, but only as we walk.” The alien turned and moved at a rapid pace. “You have an appointment with an assessment officer who will collect information that I will disperse to the other sectors as they scramble to collect and save as much as necessary to preserve the existence of your race and other sentient life.”
“What other sectors?”
“Please, sir, I am not an operations specialist. I am an administrative adjunct. I get individuals to where they are supposed to be and disperse the knowledge gained by the specialists, nothing more.”
There was no time for any follow-up questions, for they had arrived at a large door, and the alien stepped to the side. The alien reached out and removed the gel pads around No Tip’s eyes. The sight of the alien unfiltered filled him with an instinctual fear.
The alien’s body was like that of a thick hide, evolved from a hunter species, its eyes, ears, and nose all designed to track and attack its prey. It had a humanoid form with four limbs, but it appeared to have additional joints. A long, slender tail headed by a sharp nail coursed across the floor behind him.
Opening the door, the alien signaled for him to enter. The room inside was vast, open, and dark. A single light shined on an alien standing in the middle of the room. He crept closer, and as he did, a new light appeared, illuminating a long staff. The alien spoke in a thundering voice. “I am Aragmell, and you will defend yourself.”
After several minutes, Fengie returned her tentacle to the baroness’s shoulders. “My dear, my dear, please don’t panic. Just because I say that there is the possibility of your child being a freak doesn’t mean that it will come to pass. Everything we see here indicates a healthy child. This genome is interfering with our normal algorithms, so we can’t determine the sex of the child yet. Now, please, take a deep breath and look around. This is a place of healing and recovery. You are not alone. We are the Adrinoleen, one of the first five races to be integrated into the Arkapeligo. We mostly function as doctors, healers, and catalogers. Now there are over thirteen races here, each one of them committed to others’ survival, so please, my dear, you are not alone.”
The words calmed her, and the massaging tentacles warmed her. “Where is he? The one you call my mate?”
Dr. Fergie pushed several buttons on the console to bring up a map display. “Aw, looks like he is in with the assessment officers. Rough business there, but it is unfortunately very necessary. A lesson learned through costly mistakes. Mistakes that could have been easily avoided had those darn administrators—”
A tone of anger came across with his words, when Fengie interrupted him. “My dear, there you go, off on another one of your tangents. Please let us focus on our patient, not politics.”
“What do you mean, rough business? Is he ok?”
“There should be no lasting damage, but it is a trying and difficult assessment designed to test each race’s ability to integrate into the Arkapeligo. They will not only test his physical capabilities but also push his emotions to the limit. Should he fail, you will be tested. Should you fail, your race will most likely face nonacceptance and shortly perish.”
Fengie carried on. “Too bad you chose such an inferior specimen as a mate, but I have much confidence in your ability to pass. Now, please, we have another specialist to see.”
Aragmell charged forward with incredible speed and agility. Only by instinct did No Tip raise his staff in time. The blow still came with enough force to knock him backward several feet, nearly causing him to lose balance. The third strike came vertically. Each time, he simply reacted, barely positioning the staff in time to receive the blow. He was on the defensive, with no time to formulate a plan. It wasn’t even ten seconds before he was on the ground. Aragmell’s tail had him tripped up without notice.
“Few creatures this weak rise to the top of a world’s evolution. Are the females of your species the warriors? Perhaps it’s a question of motivation.” A transparent display arose from his wristband. The room’s vast interior now lit up, a great
classism opened, and in the middle of it was the baroness. She stood motionless, her hands tied behind her and around a pillar. Her feet were perched on a platform that extended no farther than a foot radius out from it.
A console appeared several feet to his left, a large red button placed in its center. “This is the Arkapeligo, and only the strong may live here. I am its defender, its purifier. If I am allowed to press that button, your mate’s restraints will be released and she will perish. You will then perish by my hand, and this whole endeavor will cease as we continue our search for the strong.” Aragmell spun his staff and entered a warrior’s stance.
“Baroness! Baroness! Baroness!” Each call was met with no response. His blood boiled. Outmatched or not, he would defend the baroness. “What have you done to her?”
“She proved inferior. She has been cataloged.”
A tear slipped from his eye. That stupid girl, trusting this was some sort of hospital ship. His anger rose at the aliens’ betrayal. He lunged forward, using his anger to launch an attack. He struck hard, going straight at Aragmell, who easily sidestepped and slammed his own staff into the side of his human opponent. The blow hurt, and it hurt bad, knocking him to his knees and the wind from lungs.
Aragmell stretched and turned his back toward his opponent, shifting in the direction of the button. “Perhaps I was wrong. Maybe the female sex is the warrior sex. It often happens that the ranks of soldiers are filled by the weaker sex. No creature as weak as you could ever rise to the top of a food chain.”
The desire to breathe took precedence. No Tip fought through the pain in his side and hurled his staff at Aragmell. The blow seemed to do little more than annoy him, and he continued his slow walk. The pain still ravaged No Tip, but he forced one leg up and then the other. Soon, with the return of some air to his lungs, he dove at Aragmell’s feet.
He extended his nail blade and aimed for what he thought was a tendon in Aragmell’s foot. The creature howled, kicking his leg out and launching his opponent across the room. “For that, I will destroy you with my bare hands.” By the end of the sentence, Aragmell was on him, landing blow after blow after painful blow.