Stepping Stones (Founding of the Federation Short Stories Book 1)

by Chris Hechtl

  “What the hell's going on in there? World War Three?” A voice bellowed from the hallway.

  Rory came in, saw the carnage and grabbed a fire extinguisher off the wall. He blew it into the face of the dog biting and clawing at Bill. The super cold CO2 was enough to break its death grip. The dog coughed and let go, then staggered back in surprise, shaking its head. A blow from the other end of the fire extinguisher dropped it to the ground.

  Its partner turned on them, but Gizmo wasn't done with him. He stuck his small fingers in the animal's eye, then grabbed the eyelid and yanked up as it yelped and tried to shake him off again. Paws tried to claw him off, but he held on until the dog rolled. Then he was off and rolling in a ball. The dog tried to go after him, but Bill tripped it up with his chewed-up broom. Rory got the tranquilizer gun off the far wall and shot the animal. It lunged for Gizmo anyway then slowed. Adrenalin warred with the chemical cocktail. Rory switched to the capture gun, a device that shot sticky foam. The foam hit the beast as it turned on Bill. The purple foam expanded when it hit the air, the mix turning into a gooey mess that made the animal yelp.

  It was hot as the initial chemical reaction started, making the dog even more frantic to get away. But its struggles only mixed the foam more, turning it into a hard plastic that when it set locked it in place. The dog whined pitifully but couldn't move. It tried to wag its tail and whimper, but all it could do was look at them with its one good eye.

  “What a mess,” Rory panted, shaking his head. Bill looked at him, then to Kate. Kate was sobbing in fear, but she seemed okay. “Gizmo?” he asked.

  “Did he start this?” Rory gasped.

  “No! How could you think that?” Bill demanded over his shoulder as the adrenalin started to ebb in his own system. He looked over to the second dog. It was trapped, and the trank was starting to take effect. Its eye closed, and it snuffled. He turned to the first dog, the one Rory had clobbered. It wasn't moving. Apparently Rory had given it more than a concession.

  “Hey, buddy,” Bill said softly as he tried to kneel. He saw a quivering ball of fur under the desk. “Hey, it's safe, Giz,” he said, fingers stroking the fur.

  Ears unfolded first, twitched, then Gizmo unfolded himself. He stood up on his hind legs and came out slowly.

  Bill checked his little charge over carefully. “You okay, little guy?” he asked voice dripping with concern. Gizmo hugged his good arm.

  Bill stroked him, and used that to quietly check him over. He seemed fine and didn't react to being handled so he didn't seem injured. He did like his ears tickled and eye ridges stroked. Bill got a kick out of tickling the little fellow, smiling fondly at his infectious giggles and guffaws.

  Rory looked over to them. “I don't see what's so funny,” he said shaking his head.

  Kate covered her mouth with her hand. She had tears of relief. “I do. I do,” she chuckled at the infectious giggles. She pointed to Bill's soiled pants. Bill looked down grimaced, then shook his head and then laughed softly himself.

 

  Bob had sat down and nervously pretended to check his email as a cover while the device went to work on the desktop. He heard the alarm go off, but the damn screen hadn't flashed red like that blasted prick said it would! Only a moment he said! He nervously looked over his shoulder. Finally he yanked the device anyway and put it in his breast pocket as he rushed to the lab. He was just ahead of Paul and the other security goons.

 

  Security took charge of the animals. Bob and Rory worked on moving the trapped animal back to its cage. Once inside they sprayed it with a release agent. After a moment the plastic softened and melted away. They watched the dog warily slumbering. “Something will have to be done about the eye.”

  “Yeah. Later though,” Bob said.

  “Hey man, where were you?”

  “I, um, went to check my mail,” Bob said lamely.

  “Damn it. I was the one on break! You know the bosses are going to have your ass for that!”

  “Yeah, I guess I goofed,” Bob said.

  Doctor Winsor came over and checked the dog over. She tisked at the damage to the dog's eye. “What did this?” she asked. “And this?” she asked, indicating the shredded ear.

  “He did,” Bob said, pointing to Gizmo, the apparent hero of the hour.

  Doctor Winsor glared. “That little monster hurt my baby?”

  Rory winced. He opened his mouth to point out that her other baby had tried to kill the humans, but Bob silenced him before he could stick his foot in his mouth to someone who wrote his paycheck. Instead he cleared his throat and shrugged when she looked his way.

 

  Bill talked with Kate and the others as things calmed down. He'd gotten a change of clothes and sat on the stool with Gizmo in his lap.

  Doctor Casper came in from home. She wasn't happy about being there, nor were the suits who had been hastily called in. From what chatter he'd overheard, he was fairly certain they were in damage control mode. They didn't want a lawsuit so that explained why legal was hovering nearby, as was Marla and her boss Rob.

  Bill had been patched up; fortunately, the cast had taken the brunt of the damage. The metal spines on top and bottom of the cast had kept the teeth from digging in. He had some damage to his elbow and torso from the claws, however; fortunately, they were minor.

  Doctor Winsor, the creator of the dogs, hadn't been happy about losing one of her specimens, and the damage to the other animal had her angry. She started in on a tirade with Kate and Rory before it was cut off by a lawyer. He succulently pointed out that it was rather fortunate that they had defended themselves and not gotten killed by her creations. That put her in her place and shut her up for a moment.

  Security checked the situation out. Mister Forester, head of security, was there; he insisted on checking the video footage. He also reamed out Paul for not doing his duty and sweeping the lab. “Every latch, especially of animals considered dangerous, are supposed to be checked hourly.”

  “Sorry, sir. I did check it in my earlier sweep.”

  “But you were overdue?”

  “I might have missed it in my pass through the lab, sir,” he said. “But it was fine. I don't know what happened. Who opened it?”

  “That's the other question I have. I'll deal with you later,” the head of security said, locking eyes with Paul. Paul muttered an “oh shit” when his boss turned away.

  Bob was interviewed for his part in the event. Bob admitted he must have not locked the latch. “I was mopping up some piss in the area. I might have bumped into it.”

  “Yes, you did. Repeatedly. And you didn't bother to check,” Mister Forester pointed out acidly.

  “Sorry, sir. I'm just … well, shocked that the animals had gone on the attack like that,” he said. He realized it could have been his own throat and let the quaver in his voice get through.

  “You're fine,” Forester said in disgust.

 

  “So this is the thing that killed my specimen?” a tall female scientist asked, coming over. She lifted her chin haughtily. “I thought it was supposed to be in its cage?” she demanded.

  “You could say the same for your specimens, Doctor,” Bill replied tartly enough to make her flush. “We've been making progress with Gizmo,” Bill said, ignoring her put down.

  “He's definitely calmer. Tame,” she said reaching out to touch Gizmo. The Mogwi reared back away from her. She pulled her hand back. “Or not.”

  “Not all animals like having their heads touched; it's a sign of danger to them, Doctor. And being on their back is dangerous to them too, a sign of helplessness. This guy is calming down though, and he knows I don't mean him harm,” Bill said, looking down at Gizmo. “Isn't that right, buddy?” he asked, tickling a finger under Gizmo's chin.

  “So now you're an animal behaviorist?” Doctor Winsor asked, sounding rather amused and condescending.

  “No, I'm someone who has an education in psychology and has been
doing a lot of research,” Bill retorted.

  “Right. I do wish they'd gotten him neutered though,” she said absently as she looked away.

  Bill winced. Just the thought of being castrated bothered every male on so many levels. Gizmo made an interrogatory chirp. Bill cleared his throat and then hesitantly explained the concept.

  Gizmo glared at the woman and growled a feral growl of warning. His fur rose up. He shook his head vehemently. “No!” They heard in a high pitched voice. She stepped back startled, knocking over a tray of things.

  The chimera sniffed at the mess in disdain, then did his little giggle. He turned and cocked his head at the man.

  “He … he … can understand you?” the woman stuttered out, eyes wide. Kate looked up from her work station in interest.

  “Can't you?” the young man asked, giving the little guy a treat.

  “I mean …”

  “I know what you mean, Doc, and yes, he is intelligent. I figured that part out right away. I think he resents being treated like an animal. Or he's been deliberately hiding his intelligence. I'm not sure which.”

  She blinked at him. Thoughts of anthropomorphizing and other issues danced in her head briefly, but the subject's intelligence was there, right there in front of her. She couldn't deny he had some level of intelligence. But human level? Conscious? “It … it's not possible! How … how …” She shook her head faster and faster in denial.

  “He's got hands, right? Thumbs?” the young man held his own up and wiggled them for her to see. “Stereoscopic vision, problem solving … he dances.” He tried to contain his excitement but it wasn't easy. He finally had someone interested in what he'd seen. He wanted to share it with her. “He walks upright, right? He escaped, right? He can take things apart. That to me is a clear indication of problem solving and tool use. I've known he has some grasp of English. Right, little fella?” he asked, tickling the chimera behind his oversized ear.

  Gizmo giggled and stamped a foot then made a mock bite and nodded to him. He ignored the female though, putting on a petulant frown when her eyes started to bother him. He started to fret a bit, playing with his stubby fingers.

  “See?” he asked, looking back to the woman. “That's that …”

  She left the room in confusion. She came back with more scientists a few minutes later. They seemed befuddled or amused. Some seemed to be indulging her. They did some simple tests but didn’t get anywhere, Gizmo wouldn't respond to them.

  “Young man, wasting our time is rude.”

  “I didn't!” Bill said, pride wounded.

  “Fess up. You threw your voice, didn't you? Did enough to throw this poor lady off her game,” the lead scientist accused him.

  “I did nothing of the sort,” Bill replied, lifting his chin. “Just hang back there. Let me try.”

  “Young man, you have no training, we can't risk you …”

  “You're not. You're going to do what a good scientist does, observe and not comment,” Bill said. The doctor blinked then stepped back, clearly taken aback by the young man.

  Bell went over to Gizmo and then hunkered down next to him. “You are trying a frontal attack. It's not going to work; he's smart and also ornery. He doesn't see what you're doing as any benefit to him. Just more poking and prodding. More pain,” he said.

  “Now see here, young man ...”

  “He's right, Doctor. Its simple response reward conditioning. We haven't socialized the subjects,” another doctor murmured.

  “We should have. I've been telling you that for years,” a vet tech said.

  “That would be counterproductive. It would contaminate our test results.”

  “It would do no such thing! It would make the animals easier to handle.”

  Bill listened to them and shook his head. “They are terrible, aren't they, Giz?” Gizmo didn't respond as he stroked his pelt. “Honestly, you people are barbarians. Neanderthals.”

  “What? Honestly!”

  “You have emotional detachment from your subjects. Yes, yes I know. But if you treated them humanely, you'd get further. Not as pets but as someone you respect. Think of them as zoo animals if you must. Socialize them. Train them with positive reinforcement. Encourage development. Some were sad. Depressed even.” He shook his head at their stern expressions. “Seriously. Would you like to be here? Think of being locked in a cage, unable to roam, unable to do anything. Poked, prodded, studied, and handled by people like ...,” he waved a hand.

  “I've been saying that if we used training we could get blood samples and other tests easier. It has been done in theme parks, aquariums, and zoos for over a century,” the vet tech said, crossing her arms in triumph. Bill nodded tightly to the red head. She smirked slightly.

  “We're still not seeing anything,” the lead scientist sighed.

  “Sometimes you can learn a lot from simple observation,” Bill said, pointing to a security camera. She frowned thoughtfully.

  “Watch.” He took a tray and put it down on the floor. He set up the checker board and then waited. When Gizmo didn't respond immediately, he sat Indian style and made the first move.

  Gizmo immediately protested, after all, he was red. “My mistake,” the young man murmured, putting his piece back. “Your move then.”

  Gizmo reached out and pushed a piece forward.

  The young man nodded and began to play with Gizmo. After a while the scientists stopped flustering and watched silently. They were having trouble processing that the small creature could play the game. When the young man jumped Gizmo's piece, he put it aside. Gizmo stared at it, then the board, fretted, then made a small ah hah sound. He immediately went onto the attack.

  The chimera's apparent quick grasp of the rules and the idea of the game surprised them. He immediately started to hold his own. “Checkers isn’t too hard for this little scamp.”

  “Tool use, concepts, strategy …”

  The young man lost the game. He was amused as he listened to the whispering behind him. From the sound of it, the scientists were agitated, torn between excitement and awe, and troubled by what it implied. He and Gizmo put the board and pieces away. When they were done, he pulled out his tablet and put it down for Gizmo within easy reach of his small body.

  Gizmo stared at the device then reached out to touch its screen. “Here Gizmo,” the young man said. He showed him how the icons work. After a moment he propped it up and then loaded a game. Gizmo was wide eyed at the graphics. He made soft chirring sounds, his version of purring. Then he got into it. After a moment he started to purr.

  They were amazed when he does Tetris.

  “Definitely advanced problem solving, geometry …,” one of the scientists muttered, awed. Gizmo's long ears twitched. He looked up, growled softly then chuffed in rebuke. After a moment he went back to the game. He got annoyed when he messed up but brushed off the young man's helping hand impatiently.

  The doctors were even more befuddled as they watched. When a few pointed and got loud, he turned to growl at them impatiently, then moved away. “We'll have to talk later,” one blond doctor whispered. The others nodded and went about making notes on their own tablet devices.

  “Clearly he's sapient to a high degree,” the female doctor pointed out to the others. “Beyond what the law allows. Which is a serious problem. We will need to rectify this,” she said, eying the young man.

  “How many more were like this? We have what, dozens still out there? What if the owners refuse to return them?” Doctor Catheter said. He rubbed at his brow. “Legal will have to be informed. This is a disaster.”

 

  Bill heard that the doctors wanted more tests once they finished going over Wing's notes. It was apparent that the wily old man had been up to more than he'd been allowed to do. His marketing of each feature had apparently gotten past the marketing and corporate execs but in-depth peer review put the pieces together. Gizmo and his kind had been intended to be tool users from the beginning; it was there if you read
between the lines.

  Bill hoped they didn't kill them in some fit of hyperactive fear of what they were or what trouble the company was in. He was also concerned of a cover-up, that they'd want to use the Mogwi as some sort of spy or something else stupid and dangerous.

  “Bill, we want to run more scans, probes, blood work, the works,” Kate told him.

  Bill frowned thoughtfully as Gizmo looked up at him. “The problem is it's all scary to him; he's been poked and prodded his whole life,” Bill mused. “Put yourself in his position. Treat him like a person, like a child not just a lab specimen,” he told her.

  He looked up anxiously to her, then to Doctor Casper. Doctor Casper was a storied scientist, well respected as Doctor Catheter's second in command. She had a lot of papers published in her own right. She frowned. “Seriously. Can you try it?” Bill implored.

  “We can,” Kate said hastily, then bit her lip when her boss's frown deepened ever so slightly.

  “The problem is the equipment is scary. Perspective,” Bill implored.

  “And we can't sedate him. His body mass and structure could cause serious problems. And it would queer the results,” Kate said, adding her bit to the argument.

  Bill felt almost orgasmic relief that she was on his side.

  “Getting him to hold still for scans is an issue. Hell, his whole body could fit in a head scanner, Doc; how can you isolate the one bit you want?”

  While they tried to figure out a compromise they went over his records. They saw what was there, what the other scientists had overlooked the entire time. Once they were up to speed, they compared things from his records with what they knew. “Obviously there is some cross pollination going on. Parrot … Oh my, the implications there … his vocal cords. We've heard him verbalize to a degree, but can he talk?” Her eyes went wide.