The Zygote Crystal

by Ashley Thomas

  “That pain will hopefully convince you that I am not a dream. But if you need more convincing, do let me know.”

  “No, no,” said Tjoorbaert, “I’m convinced, you’re real.”

  “Right, good,” said the cat, “And now the second thing.”

  Tjoorbaert recoiled back and said, “Does this also involve pain?”

  “No pain,” said the cat, “Just take a look at the screen on the desk that I have been working on.”

  Tjoorbaert went around to the desk and looked at what was on the surface screen. What he saw was astonishing. Before him was a map of certain parts of the Mosquito virus genome. But the map was presented in a unique way, with 6 nucleotide bases rather than the usual 4 found in the human genome.

  “But this doesn’t make sense,” said Tjoorbaert, who instinctively trusted the cat now that he had witnessed with his own eyes the scientific prowess he seemed to have. “There are 6 bases in this viral genome now rather than the usual 4. What is this? What is going on? Who are you?”

  The cat jumped onto the desk and said, “I am Azz-Lex and I have come from Planet X. I am a friend and I am here to help you and to help Earth. What you see before you is the result of a transposon, that naturally occurs in my genome, being hybridised with the Mosquito virus and rendering it harmless to humans. It is a cure for the Mosquito virus.”

  “That cannot be. What do you mean you are from Planet X? How can it be that you have a transposon that will do this? And you’re a cat for goodness sake. Are you telling me that Planet X is populated by talking cats?”

  “Yes,” said Azz-Lex calmly.

  “You can’t expect me to believe all this. It’s incredible.”

  “Well,” said Azz-Lex, “I can’t very well take you to Planet X right now to show you but I can prove the cure is real quite easily.”

  “How?” queried Tjoobaert.

  “Check yourself out. You’re infected with it. When I stuck my claws in your leg I injected you with a mix of the Mosquito virus and my transposon DNA.”

  Tjoorbaert’s eyes really widened now and he started to tremble as he said, “That’s a joke, right?”

  “No joke,” said Azz-Lex, “Check a blood sample.”

  Tjoorbaert went quickly to his mini-MediLab and checked. Instant analysis of his blood showed the Mosquito virus for sure, but in a modified form that was not attacking his cells. Obviously, he would have to wait to be certain but it did look like Azz-Lex knew what he was talking about.

  “Let’s chill for a few hours and watch some aircasts,” said Azz-Lex, “If you’re still ok by then you can announce the cure to the World. This is my gift to you.

  News for the World

  Tjoorbaert felt no ill effects several hours later and the following morning all was still fine. In the normal course of events with the Mosquito virus he would be dead by now, but the transposon DNA from Azz-Lex seemed to be protecting him. Later that day Tjoorbaert announced the discovery to Earth’s Supreme Council. He was able to illustrate in the most dramatic of ways that the cure worked, by showing everyone how he had been the guinea-pig. ClonaCat moved into mass production of the Azz-Lex transposon, along with several other larger pharmaceutical conglomerates, and mass vaccination of the peoples of the Earth began almost immediately. Within a few weeks there were celebrations across the World. Earth was saved by the Azz-Lex transposon, as Tjoorbaert named it.

  Azz-Lex had insisted that no one other than Tjoorbaert should know of his existence or capabilities. As he had said, the transposon was his gift to Tjoorbaert and the people of Earth. Azz-Lex stayed with Tjoorbaert for some years and became his trusted companion though no one, other than Tjoorbaert, ever heard him speak. Tjoorbaert never passed on to anyone any of the information about Planet X that Azz-Lex told him.

  The fleet goes back to Plasmolidium

  Whilst the excitement of the Azz-Lex transposon was sweeping the Earth, the new invasion fleet set sail from its assembly point near the Moon. This time not only was the size of the force overwhelming but those chosen to lead it were genuine veterans from the Sequestran war. All were proven leaders with successful battle experience. The leaders of the Earth were leaving nothing to chance.

  This second encounter with the Mud Lizards ended quite swiftly and in complete victory for Earth. A small Mud Lizard flotilla was encountered in space about 2 light years from Plasmolidium. These ships were readily disabled, without the Earth fleet even needing to make use of the Dreadnoughts. It looked as though Mud Lizard technological prowess had not led to the building of large spacecraft and in addition the warships they did have were quite slow moving, compared to vessels from Earth. So, they were easy ‘pickings’ for the commanders of the lighter cruisers and their attendant Skirmishers.

  As the Earth fleet neared Plasmolidium the Mud Lizards deployed the mega-mosquitoes against them. However, the new pulse weapon developed on Earth successfully interfered with the mosquitoes’ capability to work as a ‘collective’, and they too were dealt with quite easily. Once Earth ships had landed on Plasmolidium, the overwhelming ground force of Space Patrol troopers eventually found and rooted out the surprisingly small number of Mud Lizards on the planet. The majority of the few thousand that made up the population on Plasmolidium were killed, in a series of short pitched battles.

  Exile on Amora

  The Mud Lizards rudimentary spoken language was further analysed in a matter of days, and a revised LinguiTab created to aid in negotiations. The 150 or so Mud Lizard survivors included their leader, Almund. Given plenty of opportunity to lead his race forward in peaceful endeavours with Earth, Almund consistently refused to agree not to resume hostilities. It was decided by Earth’s Supreme Council that the Mud Lizards were too naturally war-like to remain on their home planet. They were accordingly removed to a much smaller planet called Amora, even smaller than the Earth’s Moon, where a total exclusion zone and strict monitoring could better ensure that they could cause no further harm.

  Chapter 4 - The Inspector, The Cat and The Time Miner

  Looking back

  It was November 2220 and I was idling my time away in the sun lounger of my 723rd floor apartment on Earth. Sipping from a cool glass of Baffleberry juice, I looked out at the hovercar traffic and answered the series of questions being put to me by the recorder for Galaxy News.

  This widely listened to aircast had asked to interview me, Tom Nigel G’Lacksey-Prouff, mainly because I was considered to be Earth’s foremost Intergalactic Tax Inspector. In addition though, it was the 50th anniversary of the Mud Lizard war and my Father was one of the few surviving military personnel who had been involved in the initial response to the ‘Mud Lizard Outrage’. Galaxy News wanted to explore the connection between my Father’s dealings with Mud Lizards of 50 years ago, and my own recent encounters with tis somewhat unpleasant alien race.

  An Intergalactic Tax Inspector (ITI)

  As part of the interview I reflected contentedly on how my working life had turned out.

  My Father, Admiral Prouff, had always told me that I would amount to nothing unless I joined the armed forces. But Dad had been wrong, I’d shown him and everyone else. Here I was in my late-thirties pushing forward the frontiers of tax law enforcement.

  I would never have dreamed of a job like this when I graduated from my local Learning World at the age of 27 with 137 digital badges covering topics from languages, alien lifeforms, history, lasers in society and the art of doing nothing, through to communication skills, martial arts and mathematics. I was fully expecting to drift from homework to homework earning variable sums of life credit. How lucky I was to be recommended by one of my early tutors, who obviously realised how talented I was, for a government sponsored fast track Civil Assistant Programme.

  Fully expecting to become a virtual government official, checking and air publishing new local laws, I managed to get on the wrong hoverbus outside the transit station for new trainees. The next thing I knew someone was taking my maths capabil
ity to a new level and telling me that I was going to become an Intergalactic Tax Inspector, or ITI as they liked to refer to us back at HQ.

  Just over 10 years later I am No.1 in my peer group, earning enough life credits to soon start fully exploiting my knowledge of ‘doing nothing’. For now though, I travel the Galaxy with my trusty (ha ha) companion Cat, checking out the tax affairs of individuals and major corporations across many globes. I had quickly gained a reputation for managing complex and quite dangerous missions with the help of Cat. Not surprisingly, given his superiority complex, Cat would have many believe that much of my success was down to him. But I knew better. I had lost count of the number of times I had pulled his furry tail out of the fire.

  In between our space travels we would sometimes undertake missions on good old Earth. On these Earthbound missions, once again all of my skills and staggering capabilities ensured I succeeded, helping to make Cat look vaguely useful in the process. Cat frequently liked to talk about my capabilities in less than glowing terms, only recently telling me that my skills were comparable to the most advanced amoeba he’d ever studied! Cheeky blighter. Just wait till I catch him gaseously expelling again!!

  And Cat….

  Oh yes, everyone asks me what Cat is. Well, in short, he’s a massive pain in the butt to me and a right little know-it-all to boot, occasionally literally. In reality Cat is an artificial intelligence (AI) or what I like to call a robot. He has a Rubanon skin which makes him pretty indestructible, though a T. Rex nearly bit him in half once. Now that’s a story – and of course once again I saved his bacon. Not that he has any pig DNA in him.

  Anyway, he exists to serve me and protect me in my duties as an ITI. Aside from the fact that he has the hardest outer coating known and inside is full of chips, though not the edible kind sadly, he looks to all intents and purposes like an ordinary domestic cat. I have to say he has many of the less charming characteristics of domestic cats!! One of these is gaseous expellation as he calls it. I call it farting and when it happens most living beings in the vicinity need to worry.

  A few weeks ago, Cat and I had returned exhausted from our encounter with the Mud Lizards at Dinosaur Skyland. What a mission that had been. Not for the first time, I managed to foil a Mud Lizard plot to attack Earth. As a consequence, they have now placed me on their ‘Most Wanted in Pieces’ list. Can you believe it!!

  As I continued to talk, recounting tales of my derring-do, I suddenly became aware that the Galaxy News recorder was no longer on-air. When I checked I saw they had signed off 20 minutes ago without telling me. Charming. Well, I just hope they had recorded most of what I had said.

  Waiting for our next mission

  Anyway, Cat and I had been at home now for a couple of weeks waiting for a new assignment. Where would HQ send us next? Would it be somewhere on Earth or the Moon, would it be in our Solar System or another Galaxy? We never knew. Well I didn't anyway. I often suspected Cat knew more about our missions than I did, the sly little beast. Far too many times in the past he had suddenly, in mid-mission, revealed some hitherto unknown fact about whatever it was that was trying to eat, squash, dismember or otherwise brutalise me.

  Whilst Cat busied himself in his office recording and storing notes related to our last mission, I updated myself on the latest offers on Cadabra Universe. I'd been eyeing up a new compactable display screen that had pixels to ‘die’ for. When collapsed the screen would fit easily into the palm of my hand. At the merest hint of a fingerprint it expanded to a maximum 5 metres, though could also work at any size below that, so as to suit any space really.

  My intense mindlessness was broken by Cat’s ‘mioawy’ little voice saying, “What are you going to buy next you techno-freak?”

  I'm thinking of getting a new Changsonic CollapsaScreen,” I responded.

  “Why do you want two?” enquired Cat.

  “I don’t want two - I’m only getting one,” I responded.

  “But you’ve already got one here,” said Cat.

  “Eh? I haven’t. What are you on about you looney tune Cat creation?” I said impatiently.

  Cat’s voice rose as he yelled “There’s one here, just out of its packaging rolled up on my desk you moron. Honestly are you getting shopnaesia in your old age?” sneered Cat.

  “Don’t call me a moron and don’t imply I’m a shopnaesiac you robotic anomaly. I’m fully aware of what I have and have not bought thank you,” I yelled back.

  I then stood up and stomped rather grumpily next door where Cat was poring over a computer, tapping away at the flat screen which appeared on the surface of the desk he was working at.

  “Well where is this CollapsaScreen then?” I enquired sarcastically.

  “What CollapsaScreen?” responded Cat quizzically.

  “The ruddy CollapsaScreen you told me was here just out of its box,” I said in an exasperated tone.

  “Eh?” said Cat. “What CollapsaScreen?” Cat repeated as he stared blankly at me.

  “You were just yelling at me that there was a CollapsaScreen here for goodness sake,” I exclaimed.

  Cat replied this time in his most practiced supercilious tone, speaking extra slowly as he said “I do not yell and you’re either an idiot or you’re losing what little mind you have.” He paused, and before I could respond, added, “Actually, it’s pretty well established that you’re an idiot so you must be losing your mind.”

  My mouth opened and stayed open as I struggled for an appropriate retort. Then I noticed his eyes flashing and realised he must be receiving an important and highly confidential communication from HQ. The degree of flashing tended to be a good indicator of the degree of confidentiality with these things. And trust me, his eyes were flashing quite fast.

  News of our next mission comes through

  “Ahh,” I said, “Is that our latest mission coming through?” Are HQ telling you where we’re going? I hope it’s somewhere near and warm for once. Well…., what is the message?” I continued with increasing impatience.

  “No, no mission details,” responded Cat, “Just mission control asking me if you’re nuts. Can’t understand why they are asking really. As I more or less said a moment ago, surely by now there can be no doubt in the mind of any sentient being that is aware of you, that you are indeed nuts.”

  I advanced towards him, grabbed his ear and twisted. I knew it wouldn’t hurt him but that it would definitely irritate him.

  “If you don’t let go of my ear you will never find out what our mission is, I assure you,” intoned Cat in his most superior of voices. I let go. Cat looked at me and in a quite snarly way said, “Thank you,” before going on to reveal that our next mission was to a tin mine, or at least that’s what I thought he said.

  Tin mines

  “Who uses tin anymore?” I asked incredulously.

  Cat looked quizzically at me with his head angled to one side and exclaimed “No one uses tin anymore - why are you asking me?”

  I tried instinctively to ‘out-exclaim’ almost yelling in a high pitched voice, “Why would anyone mine tin for crying out loud if no one uses it?”

  Cat fixed me with one of his incredulous gazes, shook his head slowly and then, even more slowly, hissed through gritted whiskers “Time.”

  I felt my eyes screw up a little as I responded “I think it’s about 4pm but why are you asking, you have an internal atomic clock, surely you should know what time it is?”

  Cat dropped to his haunches, gently keeled over onto one side and then onto his back before starting to thrash his legs in a rather alarmingly uncontrolled manner.

  “What?” I said loudly.

  “NOT TIN! NOT TIN YOU MORON!!!” screamed Cat. “BY THE CHIPS OF G-SOFT WHY ME? WHY DO I HAVE TO WORK WITH YOU?”

  Cat collected himself a little after that outburst and, breathing deeply, he spoke very calmly as he sat up and said, “Not tin mine, ‘Time MINE!!!” I noted his collection of himself didn’t last too long as he literally yelled out the second of
those last 2 words.

  “Ok ok, I get it,” I said, “We’re going to a time mine. Fine.” I then added, “What in Captain Crack’s Universe is a ruddy time mine?”

  Cat explains about time

  “Alright amoeboid-ass, sit down and try to listen carefully,” said Cat. He went on, “Time is the next mass market product for humankind. Well, I should say any kind of kind really. With time, anyone can do more or try something difficult over and over again, until they get it right. They can maybe even cheat death. The interest in being able to capture and store and then to use time safely is enormous, as even someone with a molecule for a brain should appreciate.”

  Yep I thought as Cat paused, being able to harness time could be mega. I’d never be late with my expense claims again!! What did he mean though, molecule for a brain? Normally he called me atom brain, which I always thought sounded quite cool, but I guess a molecule was more than one atom, so maybe I was going up in his estimation!

  Cat continued, “Not everyone knows that black holes can generate time and that some black holes do this at their edges almost continuously. For years though, despite big efforts, no one has been able to capture time for easy later re-use. Until now that is.”