Persephone Station

by Stina Leicht

  “Please forgive me. Apparently, I’ve been in the habit of obfuscation for too long,” Kirby said. “You are correct. I am keeping information from you, but that is why we are speaking now.”

  Angel stopped where she was and folded her arms across her chest. She raised an eyebrow and waited.

  Kirby said, “Please. There is something I must show you and I cannot do so here.”

  “All right.” Angel continued to follow Kirby down the hallway.

  “Theodella Archady’s death is unfortunate,” Kirby said. “She was, in many ways, an exemplary corporate leader. She was far-sighted and saw our relationship as mutually beneficial.”

  “Rosie told me she exploited you.”

  “Not in ways that matter to us. Theodella had no desire for planet-wide expansion of Serrao-Orlov’s interests. This meant that we could continue to exist as we were without interference,” Kirby said. “And that was our highest priority.”

  “She made billions off of your technology and didn’t compensate you very well for it. That doesn’t sound all that equitable,” Angel said.

  “We have no need of wealth. We only want to live in obscurity. Alas, that is no longer possible,” Kirby said. “And Vissia Corsini does not negotiate. There are no mutually beneficial options.”

  “Wouldn’t appealing to the United Worlds’ Supreme Court be a better answer?” Angel asked. “Rosie said you had your reasons for choosing not to, but I can’t think of what they might be. It doesn’t make sense.”

  The hallway branched off, and Kirby took a right turn. The dark blue tiles on the floor gradually transitioned to cerulean.

  “We have secreted ourselves away for our own protection. You’ll understand why soon enough,” Kirby said. “Please understand we’ve no wish to frighten you.” She stopped walking and pressed a panel on the wall next to an irised doorway.

  “Frighten?” Angel began to feel uneasy again.

  Kurosawa? Are you there?

  I am, Captain.

  Stand by.

  Affirmative.

  The door slid open, and Kirby motioned her inside. Upon entering, the doorway closed automatically behind them. It was obvious that they had arrived at a new branch of the complex—one that wasn’t readily accessible. The new hallway was devoid of decoration. The walls were a simple white, and the tiles on the floor were black. They passed several doors, all of them closed, before Kirby laid a hand on what appeared to be a pressure door.

  “Please remember you and your crew are safe among us. We are a peaceful people. We believe in communication. I would go so far as to say that it is designed into our genetic makeup.” She paused and then seemed to steel herself. “Captain, I am not what I appear to you at this moment. The majority of the people living in this facility, including myself, are, in fact, not human.”

  “That’s what Rosie said. But you don’t look any different than any other humans.”

  Kirby hesitated again. “We—we don’t appear any different at the moment because we are able to dramatically change our appearance.”

  “What did you say?”

  Captain, I am registering elevated blood pressure and heartbeat. Are you all right?

  I’m fine, Kurosawa. I think.

  Yes, Captain.

  “Let me demonstrate.” Kirby palmed the security pad, and the pressure door slid open.

  It revealed a lab filled with scientific equipment. Twenty or so residents were working on what appeared to be various projects—none of which was of any significance to Angel because she’d never been scientifically trained. She did, however, recognize the cluster of crates neatly stacked in a corner.

  “Please, follow me,” Kirby said.

  The second door slipped shut behind Angel with a whoosh. You still there, Kurosawa?

  I am, indeed.

  Kirby addressed the room. “This is the orientation I informed you I would perform. Please continue with your assignments.”

  The majority of the staff redirected their attention to their tasks. One or two of them continued to stare.

  “We’ll finish this chat in my lab,” Kirby said. “The others need to continue their work with as little interruption as possible.”

  She led Angel to a smaller, more private area with a desk, a number of chairs, several shelves of books, and a glasstop computer. Kirby motioned for Angel to sit. Angel watched Kirby for some sign of what was about to happen. About the time that she began to lose patience, she noticed that Kirby’s face was gradually changing. That wasn’t all. When Angel had first met her, Kirby was short and heavyset. Now, she was taller. Her hair began to lighten until it became silver. Her facial features grew broader and flatter—her nose grew more predominant and her chin less rounded, squarer. Her cheekbones were higher and more pronounced, her forehead elongated, and her eyes narrowed and drifted farther apart.

  When the transformation was complete, Angel tried not to gawk.

  Captain, are you all right?

  Kirby was now a majestic six feet tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular. Her gender was no longer easily discernible—at least not in human terms. Long, thick bright silver hair crowned an oblong head—starting at the top of her skull. Bright red-orange and yellow stripes sketched curving lines across her forehead. Her much smaller and narrower eyes were the color of molten gold. Her ears had been reduced to earholes. As for her nose, it was wider than before. Other than her forehead it was her most dominant feature; even her mouth had shrunk to a thin line. Her neck was long and slender. Her skin was a pale cyan. Her trousers were now much too short and her shirt sagged on her slender frame.

  “Wow.” She… They? Are beautiful.

  Captain? Kurosawa’s inquiry had become urgent.

  Stand down, Kurosawa. I’m fine.

  Kirby’s features shifted again so that her mouth became wider, and something moved within her throat beneath the surface of her skin. An instant or two passed before she spoke again. “As you see me now is fairly close to our natural form. With some individual variances, of course. For reasons I am about to tell you, my mouth and throat are still patterned after humans. We transmit meaning through scent and motion. Our language does not translate into yours.”

  Angel blinked. She was stunned and found it difficult to speak. “Oh.” Come on. This isn’t the first time you’ve met a member of an alien species. But it was the first time she’d done so under friendly circumstances. It was just as stressful, even if it wasn’t as deadly. There’s still time. We’re not done talking, yet.

  “Long before humans came to this planet, there was a population die-off initiated by first contact with a different visiting alien race,” Kirby said. “In the end, the planet you call Persephone was left with two dominate sapient species. The first of the two we will call ‘the Architects’ for the lack of a better translation. The Architects were highly intelligent. The search for scientific knowledge was their most revered aspect of life. At the same time, they were isolationist—the initial alien contact served as an influential one, you see. Thus, they rarely explored outside their own door. When other species initiated interactions, the Architects were often left traumatized.”

  “Were they invaded?”

  “Luck was with them. They managed to avoid it. Occasionally, trade was initiated. However, they decided a trusted intermediary would be the best solution. With this purpose in mind, they genetically altered the second native species.”

  “Without their permission?”

  “At the initiation of the project, the second species wasn’t advanced enough to be considered capable of informed choice. We did not communicate in the same way, you see.”

  Angel felt sick.

  Kirby continued. “My people underwent many iterations. Interactions between alien species go much smoother when there are obvious physical similarities between them. And so, my people have the ability to… transform.”

  “Oh.”

  “We call ourselves the Emissaries. We are designed to be adapta
ble to whatever environment we find ourselves in. It was necessary. Not all sentient creatures with whom we interacted were carbon based.”

  There are alien life-forms that are not carbon based? Angel closed her mouth. How many life-forms have we not encountered yet? She stopped the questions bubbling up in her mind and focused once more on listening to Kirby.

  “Therefore, the ability to survive in a myriad of environments was preferable. Ultimately, we change into the form of those we communicate with in order to form advantageous partnerships. Ultimately, this not only affects our ability to exist within an environment. It also affects how we perceive and take in information.”

  Angel put a hand to her head. I’m not trained for this. I-I’m a soldier. I shoot people. I protect whomever I’m hired to protect. I don’t deal with First Contact scenarios. “Ah. This is a lot to take in.”

  “I understand that when your species acquires and uses a new skill your brains change on a physical cellular level,” Kirby said. “Is this true?”

  “Maybe? I don’t know. I guess so.”

  “Largely your species is visually, tactilely, and/or auditorily dependent. Much of your ability to convey information involves the description of data involving these senses. Therefore, in order to correctly interpret your intentions, we must acquire and analyze visual, tactile, and auditory information. We developed the specific acuities upon which humans depend. We became human in order to understand humans.”

  “Oh.”

  “Please remember we aren’t a threat. We were born to be diplomats—”

  “Hold on. I’m ex-military,” Angel said. “I know what diplomats are. They’re spies.”

  Kirby paused and tilted her head. The movement reminded Angel of a bird. And at that moment, she tried very hard not to think of any large, colorful raptors.

  “This is broadly true,” Kirby said. “And I would be remiss if I didn’t admit that we were often employed as such. However, we have never killed. We cannot. The Architects would not permit it.”

  When Angel considered the situation, it made sense. Who would create a race that could shape change and then leave them the power to kill? It would be suicide. “How could anyone stop you if you wanted to?”

  “Violence affects us deeply. It makes us physically ill. If the matter is pushed too far, it is possible we might die.”

  “Is Rosie one of you?”

  Kirby smiled—or the corners of her mouth turned up in what Angel assumed was a smile. It was difficult to know what was Kirby’s true self and what was Kirby’s imitation of human expression. “Rosencrantz has endured many changes over the years. However, they remain human.”

  Angel didn’t know why she was relieved.

  “But there are those among us whose lineage is mixed,” Kirby said.

  “Really?”

  Kirby nodded.

  “Oh.” Angel didn’t know what to say.

  Kirby continued. “Interactions of a cooperative nature are the most advantageous for all parties involved. Thus, our abilities grew more refined with that end in mind. We were encouraged to assume the most pleasing or reassuring forms. Attractiveness does make successful communication more likely.”

  Angel narrowed her eyes.

  Shrugging, Kirby said, “It is true.”

  “What happened to the Architects?” Angel asked. “Did you revolt or something?”

  “In their constant search for knowledge they mistakenly created a virus with the genetic ability to destroy their entire race. There were certain political frictions between Architect nations, you see.”

  “Politics? They died of politics?”

  “Just because we don’t have the ability to perpetuate violence doesn’t mean that the Architects didn’t.”

  “Point.”

  “Those that created the virus thought they could contain it,” Kirby said. “They were mistaken. It escaped into the atmosphere. The Architects were rendered extinct within a year. We are all that remains.”

  Angel thought, And that’s an aspect of Emissary history I won’t be explaining to Sukyi. “What happened to the virus?”

  “It proved too efficient at killing. With no living hosts, it died out. Don’t worry. Nothing of it remains in the atmosphere—not that it would infect humans if it did.”

  A phrase from Angel’s father’s Bible sprang to mind. And the meek shall inherit the earth. “If you can change, why don’t you simply leave?” she asked. “You can move. Find somewhere else to live. You’re adaptable. You can find more pleasant places and ways to live.”

  “The Architects had no wish to lose control or fall prey to their invention. Not only did they deny us violence, but reproduction for our species is almost impossible except under a specific set of conditions. That is why this lab and this facility are so important to us. We can travel, of course. That’s part of our vocation. However, we can’t as a species abandon the planet.”

  “So, you’ve been alone all this time?”

  “Until Rosencrantz’s church arrived. Our numbers have never been that vast. The missionaries saw the ruins left behind by the Architects in city after city and assumed the planet was uninhabited. We had no idea that we had been invaded until it was too late.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “A small group of monks discovered their error. They attempted to rectify the problem but by then the Church had invested a great deal of time and money in their new colony. There was a schism. Some joined forces with us. Rosencrantz Asher was among their number.”

  “That would mean that they’re—”

  “One hundred and twenty-six years old,” Kirby said. “My people are long-lived. We’ve had a great deal of time in which to explore our biology as well as those around us.”

  Angel couldn’t help thinking of Sukyi. Could they help her?

  “We extended Rosencrantz’s life in exchange for the service that they do for us. It is somewhat ironic that they have assumed a role that we had once filled for the Architects. However, Rosencrantz Asher volunteered. My people and I did not.”

  “I’m so sorry. I wish that hadn’t happened to you.”

  Kirby shrugged again. It was unclear what was meant by the action.

  Angel broke the silence. “Serrao-Orlov knew you were here when they bought the planet?”

  “I understand the Church advised the corporation of the situation after the sale,” Kirby said. “That is how the planet was acquired for a discounted price.”

  “Why didn’t the Church offer the planet to you? Wouldn’t that have resolved a lot of problems?”

  “Perhaps, but we were not consulted.” Kirby motioned toward the door, inviting her to exit. “There is more I would show you.”

  Angel followed Kirby across the main lab to the door. She noticed things she hadn’t before. There were three other exits each with a sign: Medical Wing, Microbiology Lab, and Ecology Lab. The last two had biohazard warnings displayed on the door. The signs read: Environmental suits and safety procedures required beyond this point.

  I wonder what is stored in there, Angel thought.

  “We might consider sharing our knowledge freely,” Kirby said. “But only if all of humanity had access. And that is not something Serrao-Orlov would be willing to do. Definitely not while under Vissia Corsini’s leadership.”

  Angel said, “Their planet. Their resources. Their investment. Even if none of it actually belongs to them.”

  Kirby nodded. “She wants to use us as we were once used. As spies. And that, we will never do. There is a great deal of power in the ability to replicate the forms of others. Far more power than is safe to give Vissia Corsini.”

  “Can you mimic specific people?”

  “You see the problem, then,” Kirby said. “Transforming is a talent like any other. There are some who are good and others who aren’t as much.”

  “How good? Fool security good?”

  Kirby changed back into the human form she’d assumed before. The process was far m
ore rapid this time. Then she led Angel to the main passage. The sound of the locking door echoed down the hallway.

  “That would depend upon several factors,” Kirby said. “One of which is the amount of time spent with the individual to be assumed. That said, one or two of us could do this.”

  Angel whistled.

  “Now you understand our concern,” Kirby said.

  “I do,” Angel said. “There are governments who would take advantage of your abilities if they could.”

  “For that reason,” Kirby said, “I’m not sure you should tell the others about what I’ve shown you.”

  Angel ran her fingers through her hair. “I’m sorry, but I won’t let them go into a fight like this one without knowing who they’re fighting for. Enid, Lou, and I… well… we had enough of that shit in the corps.”

  “I understand,” Kirby said, and stopped in front of another door.

  “They’ll keep your secret,” Angel said. “They’re good people—no matter how scruffy some of them might appear.”

  Kirby led Angel into the new room. This one was entirely different from the lab. It was a brightly lit, hydroponic greenhouse with hundreds of native plants. The air was filled with complex scents interwoven with the greenery. There were three adults and four children playing in the potted garden. All appeared to be in their original forms. Angel had no idea who they were or what they were saying to one another, but she did get the impression of familial love and contented hominess.

  “This is what you’ll be fighting for,” Kirby said. “No matter what you decide, please tell them this much.”

  18

  TIME: 09:00

  DAY: TUESDAY

  OGENTH

  Angel zipped up her environment suit. She had left her rifle, helmet, and gloves on Kurosawa’s ramp for the time being. She wasn’t in a hurry, not yet. Knowing where they were headed, she wanted to take extra care of her gear. She was halfway through the mandatory environment-suit systems checks for hostile environs when Kirby entered. She was wearing what Angel had come to think of as her “middle-aged-human-lady disguise.”