by Susan Kite
“Where do you think you came from?”
“I do not know. There are no records that give any hints,” Greelon admitted, and then switched topics.
Corree continued her study of the lizard/snake while Greelon gave her all the scientific details of the creature.
The sand crawlers, lorgals were their name, survived all but the hottest temperatures. It could live in cold although more sluggishly. It ate the smaller creatures of the crystalline sands. When food was scarce, it could even digest the sand for nourishment. It breathed a little differently than Ologrians. Its air sacs were located up and down the chest rather than being located within the chest cavity. The air was pulled in through porous skin. The tail was for balance and defense. The fangs did half of the digestion. Venom broke down tissues amazingly fast, Greelon explained. She didn’t doubt lorgals could do everything he said. They could suck in broken down flesh while the victim was still alive. Corree shivered at the thought.
Still, such a mutation would allow her to move around freely without being detected as easily. She could scout and plan her and Riss’s escape. The thought startled her for a moment and Corree stopped listening to Greelon’s explanation. Yes, they were going to escape! This new ability, if it worked, made it possible to dream of a time when she and Riss would be back home on Mendel.
The next problem was transportation. It was one thing to get away from the Ologrian city. It was an entirely different thing to fly a space ship. Corree realized now that the Federation wasn’t coming to rescue them. She and Riss had, as Greelon claimed, been tools to destroy the Ologrians. Why else would Riss still be violent toward any Ologrian. Why had she almost died of a disease that didn’t manifest itself until she had changed to the shape of an Ologrian? Maybe that was why she had been able to mutate so easily—to ultimately destroy a Federation enemy.
So what were Greelon’s motives? Corree didn’t doubt his affection toward her. He wanted her to treat him like a mentor, or…or what was that term that popped up during her training in the pod? A father? A biological parent. He respected her for being her.
If that was the case, why did she want to leave? Because as kind as Greelon was, all she wanted now was to live peacefully on Mendel with her family and friends. Somehow she didn’t think that would be easy even if she did make it back.
That night Corree concentrated on the lorgal. She knew it was going to be difficult since this was a creature half her size. First she tried to mutate her skin to match the cold crystalline scales. That came quickly. She felt her arm that was covered with the slick scales and smiled in satisfaction. Next she worked on the fangs and eyes. That took a little more practice. She only was able to tell she succeeded with her eyes because her vision changed. The outer edges were fuzzy, but she seemed to be able to see heat and energy in objects directly ahead of her. It was amazing and she almost forgot the rest of her mutation.
The rest was harder and took much more concentration. She needed to mutate into a smaller body; more slender. There were extra legs, shorter than her normal legs. Corree felt her body shrink. Her joints popped and creaked painfully. She paused to let the pain subside. Then her torso began to stretch longer. Little nubs popped out along her sides. Some of them shrank back. She hissed in frustration, letting air whistle around the over-large fangs. Her centralized lungs shrank as smaller pockets formed along each rib. Corree finally produced six complete legs that scrabbled inside the coverlet. That was when she noticed her own arms and legs were shrunken to the same size as the other legs.
She was abominably tired. Corree let her body change back to its Ologrian form. She had not succeeded in a complete mutation; not having been able to shrink all the way down to the size of a real lorgal. Maybe she wasn’t able to change her size, but she’d keep practicing. What was most important was that she could change at will. She was learning to control her changes.
As she drifted off to sleep, Corree wondered how she would use this new skill to her advantage. She had promised Riss that it would help them escape. Somehow, Corree had to make that happen.
The next morning, Greelon took her to his laboratory. The guards clicked their teeth and clapped their hands in the sign of deference and respect as they usually did. Then it dawned on Corree. If she looked just like Greelon, she, too, would be afforded the same courtesy. She could go anywhere and do anything. She could get Riss out and order a spaceship.
Corree followed Greelon around, acting as though she was listening intently. She studied Greelon; watching how he moved, the minutest mannerisms and the slight differences between him and the other Ologrians she had met. Each night, it became easier to duplicate him. It also became easier to mutate into the other creatures she had studied. She learned how to mutate into smaller creatures, but she felt more lethargic. Could she only change her shape, not her weight or mass? Corree contemplated how she could overcome that obstacle, but wasn’t able to figure it out right now. It seemed the best chance for success at would be to mutate into a replica of Greelon.
Corree also practiced changing into some of the animals she saw in pictures from the projected books. She figured internal features weren’t that important, just how she looked on the outside. She didn’t completely succeed in those changes.
One night Greelon took Corree to what he called a concert. A group of Ologrians in green robes sat in a semi-circle on a stage with a variety of devices in their laps or in front of them. Greelon said very little to her. She supposed he wanted her to be surprised.
One of the Ologrians held two bright yellow crystals of varying lengths. They appeared to be hollow with a kind of greenish-colored liquid inside. There was a different amount of liquid in each. Another sat behind three larger crystals. Each was a different thickness. One held a hollow crystal with strings attached. Each Ologrian worked at his or her instrument, tapping, plucking, or blowing.
When the time for the concert came, the Ologrians on the stage sat quietly, red eyes trained at a point beyond Corree and over her head. She turned to see what they were looking at, but Greelon stopped her with a gesture.
“It’s not considered polite,” he whispered.
As one, the Ologrians began playing their devices. Corree realized they were using the crystals to make music. Various tinkling sounds blended. They rose and fell like water flowing down a rocky mountain creek or like the wind between the tops of forest giants. Sometimes the music moaned low and sometimes it warbled high. One instrument reminded her of Joshee’s high-pitched voice when he sang of his accomplishments. Another was like the whistling of air past her ears when she leaped between the trees. It brought her loss crashing into her heart. If she had been able to, Corree would have cried. She grabbed her tail and stroked it, trying to ease her agitation.
Greelon must have realized something was wrong because he laid his long-fingered hand on her arm. It comforted her a little bit. They left when the musicians took their mid-concert rest.
“What is bothering you, Corree-levret? Didn’t you like the music?”
“I liked it very well, sha-Greelon. It just, well, much of it was like the sounds of the wind and water and…my family back on Mendel.”
Greelon made a low, sympathetic noise in his throat. “That is called home-sickness and is understandable.”
“Will I ever get to go home?”
“I do not know, Corree.”
“Can we see the rest of the concert, sha-Greelon?” she asked in a small voice. She grasped at any tie to Mendel, no matter how remote. Corree spent the rest of the concert imagining herself back in her forest.
Chapter Eleven
Corree had to see Riss again. She had to get him to understand how important it would be to cooperate. It would be so much easier to steal a space ship if he was free to help her.
Greelon accompanied her down to the holding area next to his laboratory. She was grateful to see that Riss’s cell was larger. He was doing some sort of exercises; jumping up and down, running around the room, s
tretching. That was a good sign, too.
“Riss,” she began as she walked alone through the doorway. She modified her voice to sound as much like it did on Mendel. Corree did the same with her eye color. To her great satisfaction, he smiled, or at least the closest approximation an Ologrian could make. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“About time you came to visit,” he growled. “Your friend, Greelon, told me I could get out of here if I can keep from attacking any Ologrian who walks in here.”
Corree was surprised. Greelon had not said anything about that to her. “You didn’t attack him?”
“At first it was hard, but I was able to stay put. I’m angry they captured us. I don’t want to lose that, but I don’t automatically try to rip an Ologrian’s guts out like before.”
“I understand. And I’m glad. I’d really like for you to be out of here.”
“So would I!”
Corree decided to let Riss know a bit of her partially formulated plan. Can you hear me in your mind?
He started to speak, but stopped. Like a whisper, but I can hear you, he thought.
Good. I am working on something that might help us escape.
Riss showed no emotion. You’re kidding! What he said was, “I would really like to see some of the places you’ve seen.”
Corree had to admire how quick Riss was at the subterfuge. “I’d like to show you Greelon’s house. It’s quite nice.” Corree heard the approach of someone outside the cell. I think a guard is coming in, she warned him. She felt Riss brace and she sent him good wishes.
The panel slid open and one of the guards stepped just inside the opening. For several long moments everything seemed to freeze. Corree could feel Riss’s anger rise as the Ologrian stood there, almost taunting Riss to attack him.
Keep calm, Corree thought, her mental tone soothing. Think of a moonrise in the mountains.
Riss didn’t respond, but she felt his anger ease. The Ologrian moved closer, but Riss didn’t move. The culmination was when Riss asked in halting Ologrian, “Is there something you need, Force Leader?”
Corree could have hugged him. When the guard said no and left, Riss’s relief was palpable. “That was great!” she told him.
“It was hard.”
“But you did it.”
That night, Corree waited until she knew Greelon was out of the house before she tried mutating into the scientist’s look-alike. It was difficult to know if she had succeeded under the dark cover, but she did feel her legs growing longer and her torso more slender. Her shoulders widened and her hands felt stronger. It was exhilarating. Now to figure out a way to test it.
Corree stood up; wrapping the coverlet around her, much the way Greelon wore his robe of rank. She stayed hunched to hide her added growth and near the walls to hide her increased awkwardness.
As she passed into the welcome room, Corree stood taller and assumed the stance of the scientist. She approached the outer door and hesitated. There had been no plan for going out. Why not, she thought? Just for a short time. Corree slid her lengthened fingers into the door mechanism and waited for the chime of acknowledgement. It seemed longer than usual and Corree wondered if it sensed her instead of Greelon. Finally, the door chimed. With a sigh of relief, she pulled her hand away and watched the door slide open.
The wind whirled cool and dry across her face. Corree held the robe tight. Soft, prism-diffused light from solar lamps overhead offset the jet black of the night. The wide approach-way that was busy and crowded during the day was lonely now. Crystal pillars stood sentinel to the roadway that led to the science buildings. The other road led to the city and spaceport. It was too far to walk even if she wanted to go there now.
Right now, she wanted to test her skills while there was no one around. Still it was exhilarating to wander around free. She could see by the night glow of the large, red sun. Greelon had explained how the sun was large enough to reflect into the clouds at night.
Corree walked the short distance to the pillars, gazing at the red-tinged sky above her. A flash zipped across the darkness from above her head to the horizon.
“My Lord, I thought you had gone to your office,” a voice behind her said. It was Nurton, one of Greelon’s servants.
Corree almost dropped her hold on the robe. “I—I came back early,” she stammered in her closest approximation to Greelon’s voice. The servant said nothing for several heartbeats.
“Why didn’t you come home in your hover car, sir?” There was a suspicious edge to the Ologrian’s voice.
Corree stood as tall as she could. “The night was mild. I chose to walk. I will be going back soon.” The servant started to say something else, but Corree cut him off. “You can go now. I will come in later…after my observations.”
There was no hesitation. Nurton strode around the residence and was lost to sight. That was too close. She wondered if Nurton had really been fooled. It didn’t matter now. She had to finish her pretense and go back inside before Greelon really did return. Corree walked back to the house and stood just outside the entranceway. She didn’t have to fake interest in the sky. Meteors streaked across the sky in clusters of three, four, or five at a time like overactive glow bugs.
Despite the skyward distraction, Corree still listened for any evidence that Nurton was spying on her. When Corree felt sure he wasn’t, she stepped to the optical scanner. This was the last big test. After slight hesitation, the door slid open. It had worked! The computer had recognized her as Greelon.
As she returned to her room, Corree wondered if she could teach Riss how to mutate this way. That would help them out immensely. She fell asleep trying to figure out ways they could escape to the space port.
****
Over the next few days, Greelon taught her Ologrian history as well as how to read. Corree thought it was ironic that she could read and write Ologrian, but didn’t know the first written word in the human language.
She was surprised one afternoon when Riss walked into her room. Corree stared in shock until his clicks of laughter snapped her back. “You’re out!” she stated the obvious.
“Finally!”
“How do you feel?”
“Glad to be out.”
Corree threw her arms around his neck. “I missed you!”
“Thanks. I missed you, too.
Corree showed him around Greelon’s extensive estate. As she did so, she telepathically let him know about her experiments and her half laid plans for escape.
They were standing on a balcony overlooking the rock and crystal decorated grounds in back of Greelon’s estate. He looked ready to blurt out his disbelief at her accomplishments. Instead he clamped his lips together in an almost audible snap. But how will we learn to fly one of their space ships?
I don’t know.
We’ll have to watch and wait. We’ve waited this long, he reassured her.
Time. That was the problem. They had already spent so much time here on Algolol. If she hadn’t been practicing mutating, she might have been wondering if it was even possible to return to her normal form after all this time.
There was one benefit of having so much time on her hands—she could read Greelon’s vast collection of books. Corree read about Ologrian customs. She learned where the custom of “tasting” the enemies flesh came from in the days when Ologrians lived to fight. When she read that aloud, Riss decided he wanted to learn to read, too. Corree began copying the Ologrian alphabet into the writer. He learned the letters much more quickly than she had. As he learned the alphabet, Riss practiced writing.
In the evenings, Corree read children’s stories to him, despite feeling she should be reading science and history. That problem was solved by Riss’s fast assimilation of the Ologrian language. He began poring over science books, copying diagrams of various machines and scientific formulae. He was fascinated by Ologrian animals. The fact that most were extinct puzzled him. Riss drew each animal and wrote notes underneath. He had a natural talent f
or drawing and Corree was impressed. Greelon was impressed as well and encouraged him by providing drawing materials, including a reader/drawer devise.
When she praised his abilities, he would only say, “You are a good teacher.” Often he rubbed her cheek ridge with one long finger, similar to what he had done so long ago in the mountains of Mendel. When he did, Corree shivered with pleasure. She never thought of Meeka anymore or that she might have to let Riss go someday.
Corree was still surprised she and Riss were allowed such free access to Ologrian knowledge. Greelon seemed to encourage their activities. He had only balked at Riss’s request to learn Ologrian fighting techniques.
“There is enough killing,” he growled, but Corree knew he was worried about Riss’s Ologrian-phobia. Greelon did let them work out in what he called his stress reduction room. It had a large area where they could run, jump and wrestle. Sometimes, Greelon turned on a machine that nullified gravity. At first the sensation of weightlessness made Corree queasy, but that quickly passed. She enjoyed chasing Riss through the air.
The first two six-days after Riss’s release, Greelon kept his distance. For some strange reason Corree missed that even while reveling in having Riss near her. She knew, as she assumed Greelon did, that Ologrians still made Riss nervous. Greelon’s consideration made Corree appreciate him more.
When Greelon began spending more time teaching them, she noticed how comfortable Riss was with the Ologrian scientist. In fact, he asked Greelon numerous scientific questions. Most were answered; some, mainly questions about space ships and the distance to Mendel, were deferred. Corree knew they were still being watched and warned Riss telepathically to watch what he asked. Greelon had been good to them and she didn’t want him to get in trouble. The next Ologrian might not be as sympathetic or allow them so much freedom.
One six-day she and Riss were pretty much left alone. She only saw Greelon once and his only acknowledgement was a curt dismissive hand gesture. There were a few new house servants, one of which seemed to be everywhere they were. Corree could only guess that Greelon was in some kind of trouble because of them.