Sapiosaurus | Out Of Time

by Lon McQuillin

  He swirled the liquid in his mouth, and then swallowed. It burned a bit going down, but the glow was warm and very familiar. He drew in air to enhance the flavor, and then took another sip.

  “Garlmek, this is not like our Scotch.”

  Again the Sapio cocked his head.

  “It’s more like a fine Tennessee Bourbon.”

  “This is a good thing?” inquired the Sapio.

  “Garlmek, it is a very good thing.” He nodded to the others, who each took a sip of their Hhieoouw.

  “Oh, yum,” said Mitchell.

  “Say, that’s gooood,” said Ruggiero, who preferred Bourbon in the first place. The sentiments were echoed by the other humans, except for Northrup, who was still holding his glass. Garlmek noticed this, and looked expectantly at the human who had nearly cost them their lives.

  Northrup had no way of interpreting the look on the Sapio’s face, but the attention first of Garlmek and now all the others forced him to react.

  “I’ve never…”

  “Eugene!” cautioned Reynolds.

  With a sigh, Northrup took a sip and swallowed. The liquid burned his throat, and he immediately coughed. Garlmek frowned — an expression that only Touolok recognized — but the other humans all laughed. Garlmek looked to Reynolds, who explained.

  “Eugene has never drunk an alcoholic beverage before. It’ll take him some time to get used to it.”

  The Sapio’s frown dissolved. “I understand,” he replied, and then translated for Touolok. The two Sapios hissed their laughter.

  Despite his discomfort, Northrup had to admit that the warmth the liquor brought on was quite pleasant. When he regained his composure — and as his blush faded — he took another sip, and this time managed to get it down without a fuss. It was really rather good, he decided.

  Remembering something he’d seen in movies on television, he rose to his feet.

  “Mr. Garlmek, our species has a tradition called a toast.”

  Hummford knew this fell outside of Garlmek’s vocabulary, and translated the term as “ceremonial salutation.” The Sapio bowed.

  “First, once again, my apologies. Both to Mr. Garlmek and Dr. Touolok, and to everyone else.” Now Garlmek translated for his wife, and the two of them nodded to Northrup.

  “A toast to new and lasting friendships,” said Northrup, raising his glass. Ruggiero was impressed. For a first-timer, the kid was doing good.

  Garlmek rose to his full height, and Touolok followed the motion.

  “To new and lasting friendships,” said the Sapio, raising his glass to match the gesture. The rest of the humans rose, and repeated the phrase, and they all drank.

  What followed was not so much a meal as it was a dinner party, despite the fact that the main course consisted essentially of survival rations. As the afternoon progressed into evening, Touolok was aided by a simultaneous translation from the Controller, which had learned everything her husband had about the human language, and within a couple of hours was able to converse in basic English.

  As a second bottle of Hhieoouw was emptied, Garlmek realized that no further serious work would be accomplished this day, but that the relaxed atmosphere would let him gain further insights into the nature of the humans.

  He turned to Reynolds. “How was it that you discovered our city under so much ice?”

  “We were drilling core samples through the ice — basically driving a long, hollow tube through the ice and into the earth beneath it. We use echo soundings that let us assemble an image of the surface under the ice, and we noticed the shapes of your city, which were oddly regular. When we drilled for a sample we found your cement material, which we realized was artificial. That led to digging a shaft down to explore.”

  “You are doing this on your own, and just out of curiosity?”

  “No. I’m a professor of geology at the University of California at Berkeley.”

  Garlmek cocked his head to one side, which Reynolds had come to recognize as the equivalent of raising one’s eyebrows. “A university is a large school, made up of many colleges. California is the name of a large political division in the country in which we live, and Berkeley is the name of the city in California where our campus is located.

  “As for our purpose, it was dual. For us, yes, I guess you could call it curiosity. We like to learn as much as we can about the Earth. Our funding came from a company that extracts petroleum — oil — from underground to be refined into fuel that runs most of our society.”

  “This is the fuel that causes much pollution by its burning?”

  “Yes.”

  “How can you be comfortable taking part in such a destructive venture?”

  Reynolds leaned back and gave Garlmek an appraising look. It was a question he’d asked himself more than once.

  “I suppose we’ve become trapped in a vicious cycle. When we first started using oil as a fuel, the population was much smaller, and no one envisioned either the tremendous growth the human race would experience in only a century, or the extent to which we’d become dependent on oil. We’re at a point now where we really don’t have any immediate alternate choice. If we were to stop all at once — what we call ‘cold turkey’ — our entire economy and way of life would be destroyed.”

  “So once again the root of the problem is the large population of humans.”

  “That’s right.” He was silent for a moment, and then continued.

  “In our defense, we recognize the problem, and there are many people working to solve it in various ways. Some work on population control, and in some cases there have been improvements. Others work on alternative fuels, such as the solar power that you use, which don’t cause pollution.

  “In fact, what we’ve learned of your technology could play a major role in reducing our reliance on fossil fuels, though it will take time to adopt.”

  “What are these ‘fossil fuels’ of which you speak?”

  As Reynolds started to form his reply, he was suddenly reminded of the old oil company commercials that showed cartoons of dinosaurs cheerfully turning into oil and ending up in a car’s gas tank.

  “That’s another name for petroleum. Our best theory is that over hundreds of millions of years, billions upon billions of microscopic plants and animals died and were buried under sand and silt, and eventually decayed under heat and pressure into hydrocarbons.”

  “Which would mean that the supply is limited.”

  “Yes. At some point we’ll have no choice but to begin to switch to alternative sources of energy.”

  As Reynolds finished his thought, there was a lag in the conversation, and Touolok spoke up.

  “How long do you think it will take your colleagues to reach us?”

  He thought for a moment. “I’d guess two to three days, assuming that most of the tunnel along the entrance wall caved in. Less, if the cave-in was smaller.”

  “And what will happen then?” asked the female Noaud.

  “I’m not sure I know what you mean. You mean in the immediate future, or long-term.”

  Touolok glanced at her husband, who nodded almost imperceptibly.

  “What will be done with us? Will we be kept here indefinitely, or will you take us somewhere else?”

  Reynolds squirmed slightly, and looked at Mitchell, who took his cue.

  “That depends on you,” she answered. “What would you like to do?”

  “Our original plan is no longer practical given the changes both our city and the world have undergone…”

  “If I may ask,” interjected Reynolds, “what were your original plans?”

  Garlmek was immediately alert, but said nothing. It would be best if Touolok answered the question.

  “Our plan was to first attempt to make contact with the other cities, in the hope that other Noaud also survived the destruction. We would then begin the process of re-establishing our species.”

  “Just the two of you?” asked Mitchell.

  Garlmek knew that his
wife’s next words were critical to keeping the secret of the Offspring.

  “If necessary. Again, with luck, there would have been others who survived elsewhere, which is why we established life pods in each city, rather than concentrated in one location.”

  “But from the records we’ve reviewed,” said McCollum, “your race breeds relatively slowly, with your females producing only one egg per year.”

  “With hormone treatments we can accelerate our reproductive cycle, and produce as many as four eggs per year. Also, our young reach sexual maturity in 11 years. By the time Garlmek and I reached the ends of our lives, our offspring could number in the thousands.”

  “What about the danger of inbreeding?”

  “I have a store of engineered viruses designed to make benign changes in the genes of my eggs.

  “Since I would produce more than 200 eggs in my remaining years, each egg would be exposed to a different virus, resulting in a variety of genetic characteristics.”

  Garlmek showed no reaction, but was astonished at what Touolok had just said. It was completely untrue, and yet she had responded as quickly and naturally as if she had been speaking the truth. He wondered how she had been able to devise such a fabrication, and wondered if he’d have been able to do the same himself.

  “That’s fascinating,” said McCollum.

  “And there was also the hope that others had survived, and reduce the need for the viruses by expanding the range of genes available.”

  McCollum suddenly sat upright. “That’s what those things in the room over there are,” she said, gesturing towards the incubation room. “With such a rapid reproductive cycle, you wouldn’t be able to carry the eggs normally through gestation. Those are incubators!”

  “Precisely,” replied Touolok.

  Garlmek was both stunned and greatly relieved. By her deception, she had managed to provide an explanation of the incubators that would deflect any possible suspicion. It was almost true, because to a great extent it was true.

  “So, returning to the original question,” said Mitchell, “what would you wish to do in light of the circumstances?”

  “Garlmek and I have not discussed this at length because we realized that our destiny is no longer in our own hands. It is obvious that we could not put our plan into action here, as Tarsill and the resources it contains are buried and inaccessible. There is also the larger question of whether your race would allow us to begin to re-establish our own.”

  Mitchell leaned forward. “Let me address the larger question first. I’ll be honest with you. There will be some humans — such as Eugene’s friends — who will oppose your attempts to repopulate.” Northrup looked extremely uncomfortable.

  “But I can assure you that we in the scientific and academic community would do everything within our power to help you in your efforts.”

  “If I can chime in,” said Lightfoot, “the question has been raised at the highest levels of our government, and the decision was to welcome you as friends, assuming of course that you acted like friends.” He looked at Northrup as he completed his thought. “I’d say that you’ve acted like friends beyond the normal definition of the word.”

  “Before the explosion,” Mitchell continued, “we had started making inquiries about establishing a safe place for you to live in a climate much like the one you left behind. There is an island north of the equator that has such a climate and that is owned by our government. Our university has a biological research station there. Here, let me show you.”

  She got up and crossed to the library, emerging a minute later with her laptop computer.

  “The files I have here are a copy of the U. C. Berkeley web site. There’s a section on the island.”

  She placed the computer on the dais, and the Sapios moved in for a better view. Navigating her way through the links, she followed them to the pages that described Aliello Island and the research station.

  The Sapios had not seen a human computer before, but they immediately recognized the technology. While the screen was small, it worked much the same as Noaud tablets. Again, Garlmek was amazed at how much the humans had managed to develop in such a short period of time.

  “I can’t make any promises at this point, but I’ll be amazed if the university and the government aren’t willing to turn the island over for your use, at least for the time being.”

  The Sapios watched as Mitchell ran through the pages, showing various views of the island.

  “This is of course something that Touolok and I will wish to discuss privately. My initial impression is that this might be an excellent solution to our problem.”

  “I’m so pleased to hear that. As soon as we can get back outside, I’ll see what progress is being made.”

  “We would want to be able to return here at times, especially as more of Tarsill is excavated.”

  “Of course. That should present no problem.”

  There was another lull in the conversation, and then Ruggiero suddenly looked up at the ceiling. “Oh my gosh! Look at that, guys!”

  As the meal and the discussions wore on, the humans hadn’t realized that the ceiling had gradually grown dimmer just as the real sky would as night approached. Looking up, they could see that stars were beginning to appear.

  “Look over there,” said Behling, pointing to what would roughly be East. Above the line where the ceiling met the wall, the image of the Moon was rising, showing a face that no human had seen from Earth.

  “It’s beautiful,” exclaimed Hummford.

  “I have instructed the Controller to duplicate the cycle of day and night for us,” Garlmek explained. As they stared at the image of the moon, a shooting star crossed the sky.

  “Outstanding,” said Reynolds.

  The humans and Sapios sat silent for a while, enjoying what amounted to a planetarium show, and then Reynolds suggested that they call it a night. The humans took turns using the porta-potty near the entrance, and then, after dividing up the available blankets, split up into separate rooms to sleep. The Sapio couple retired to the infirmary. Mitchell and Reynolds took the workshop; McCollum, Hummford and Ruggiero took the library; Lightfoot and Behling took the tool room.

  Northrup, realizing he was the odd man out, limped to the pantry. While he’d only had two shots of the Sapio liquor, being unused to alcohol, he felt slightly woozy.

  As he lay looking up at the image of the night sky, he thought how much had happened in one short day, and how much had changed. He’d come close to killing the Sapios and at least several of the team, including Sandy. Yet he’d managed to save them, and he felt good about that. He thought about how badly he’d erred in trusting Billy Joe Wilder, and made himself a promise to see to it that Wilder was exposed for what he was.

  He thought about the beliefs he’d always taken for granted, but now felt that he had to question. They included nearly every aspect of his life.

  He also realized, with a small start, that for the first time since he could remember he’d lain down to go to sleep without saying his prayers first. Somehow, he just didn’t feel like it.

  He was teetering on the verge of sleep when he became aware of footsteps entering the pantry.

  He raised up on his elbows. “Who’s there?” he whispered.

  The footsteps came closer, and in the dim light he could make out a figure approaching. As the figure neared him, a voice whispered back.

  “Hello, Eugene.”

  “Sandy… what are you…” He was interrupted as she sat, straddling him, and leaned down and kissed him. After a moment, he raised his hands and found himself touching bare skin. Once again, her shirt was fully open at the front. After only a moment’s hesitation, he moved his hands up and to her front, and cupped her breasts in his hands.

  Oh my God, he thought, they feel wonderful. He squeezed them gently, not knowing how tender they might be, and she responded by sliding her tongue into his mouth.

  Sitting on his crotch, she could feel him responding to
her, and after a few minutes she disengaged her lips and began crawling backwards down his body. She unbuckled his belt, pulled down his zipper, and with a firm tug, pulled his pants and shorts down. Northrup gasped.

  In the next fifteen seconds, Northrup consummated his first sexual experience.

  Over the next hour, he consummated his second, third and fourth.

  A half hour later, after having lain half on top of him catching her breath and cooling off, Ruggiero gave him a final kiss, put her clothes on and left, stealing back across to the library.

  Never having imagined it was possible to feel the way he did, Northrup fell asleep almost immediately.

  •

  Once alone in the infirmary, Garlmek and Touolok spoke in low voices.

  “That was an unexpected but excellent piece of incorrect information you provided the humans with regard to the incubators, my dearest,” said Garlmek. “I had been concerned about what to tell them, knowing that at some point they would inquire.”

  “It seemed that the situation not only permitted but called for providing the humans with incorrect information. I must admit that it felt very strange saying words that I knew were not correct.”

  “I suspect we will need to do the same again. They have not yet inquired about the lower level of the mastaba, but they are certain to before long.”

  “What will you tell them?”

  “I will do much as you did. I will tell them correctly some of the information, but not all. Since the entrance from the upper chamber to the lower level is not obvious, and the outer entrances are buried under the ice, I believe the Offspring will remain safe indefinitely. The correct information can be revealed at any time, but once revealed, cannot be made secret again.”

  “I am concerned that this place the humans suggest we go to is so far away from Tarsill. I fear that they may not let us return, despite their assurance that we might.”

  “I see no choice but to trust them. If we protest leaving, they may become suspicious. Fortunately, the humans in charge have provided no reason not to trust them. Even the deviant one, Eugene, has demonstrated a sense of honor.”

  “If we do go to this place they offer, how could we proceed with revival of the Offspring?”