Galileo (Battle of the Species)

by Meaghan Sinclair

“Eternity, my loyalty will last

  A loving reminder of all things past

  By your side, is where I belong

  To keep you safe, to keep you strong.”

  Renn and Dylan kept going over the words, trying to guess what it could be, while Leo just stared at the box.

  “What if you can’t figure it out?” Leo asked.

  “Spare key,” Renn replied.

  “An audible spare key?” Dylan asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I give up,” Renn said, prompting the metal door to open.

  “Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?” Leo asked.

  “Where’s the fun in that?” Dylan replied.

  Renn lifted the box and let out a gasp of excitement. “It’s Max!” he said, looking down at his dog before thinking how that could possibly be. The dog’s animation was, however, disturbingly frozen. “Oh my gawd, please tell me my dog’s not dead.” Renn worried his dad had officially lost his mind.

  Dylan leaned over the box, running his fingers through the fur. “Oh cool, it’s a robot!” he said, opening a control panel on the back of the dog’s neck.

  “Thank God,” Renn sighed with relief.

  “Man, these models are so expensive. Your dad must be rich,” Dylan said jealously.

  “Yeeeeah, not so much,” Renn said. “You know how to turn it on?”

  “No, but it should be pretty straightforward,” Dylan replied. He pulled out a clear rectangular tablet and tapped on it, scrolling through the instructions. He then reached into the box and fussed with the dog’s controls. “The cool thing about this model is that it should have the same personality characteristics as the dog it was cloned after,” Dylan explained. “It’s the same process they use for humans. They take the body’s memory and brain waves, make a copy, and insert them into the robot. Like, the dog probably won’t even know it’s a machine. It’ll just think it’s your dog. It’ll have the same likes, dislikes, dreams, everything as the one it was modeled after. So don’t yell at it or anything, because you can actually hurt its feelings. It just won’t eat, poop, need to be walked, slobber or shed. Though, it should obey all commands, even if the old dog didn’t.”

  “In other words, it’s your dog, but upgraded,” Leo added.

  “Cool!” Renn replied, grinning.

  Dylan turned the dog on.

  Max took one look at Renn and jumped up, licking his cheeks over and over.

  “Hey there, upgrade-dog,” Renn said, scratching behind the dog’s ears. “All right, sit,” Renn commanded, and the dog complied, plopping his furry butt on the floor. “Yeah, you’re definitely not Max,” Renn said, laughing.

  Their sleep regulators gave two quick warning beeps and two flashes of blue light, which Renn was already becoming accustomed to, and he made his way to his bed.

  “What’s it supposed to do at night?” Renn asked, looking at his upgraded pet.

  “What did your dog do on Earth?” Dylan asked, climbing into bed.

  “He slept next to my legs.”

  “Then that’s what it’ll do now,” Dylan said, as if patiently waiting for the Earthling to get the hang of the robot.

  Renn climbed into bed and closed his eyes, just to see what the dog would do. The dog jumped up on the bed, resting its chin on Renn’s leg, just like Max did every night when Renn went to sleep. He smiled at the familiar feeling, grateful to his dad for that. Clever, he thought, very clever. His dad figured out a way to send a large part of Renn’s image of home in a large tin box.

  CHAPTER 7

  Battle of the Species

  Renn yawned, waking up to an artificial morning light. He followed suit as his roommates peeled themselves out of their beds and poured themselves into their uniforms.

  Renn felt the excitement of the first day of school while they made their way towards the mess hall for breakfast. He kept glancing at the vicom on his wrist to check the time, but tried to relax when he realized he had checked it three times without the minute changing.

  He and Dylan tried to further experiment with the food and chose Peltis scrambled eggs from a planet called Orthrote.

  “Where is Orthrote?” Renn asked, pushing around the red egg yolk with his fork.

  “If you’re coming from Earth, take a left at the Triangulum galaxy, pass the asteroid belt, dodge the black hole, and you’re totally there,” Dylan replied, before taking a bite of toast.

  Renn laughed. “So you have no idea?”

  “Not a clue, man,” Dylan replied.

  Renn glanced at his vicom again.

  “We still have fifteen minutes,” Dylan said, grinning.

  “I know,” Renn replied. “I’ve just never gone to school anywhere but Earth. I’m kind of excited.”

  “Yeah, me too. Come on,” Dylan said. “We’ll walk slow.”

  As they walked through the language hall towards class, Renn listened to the labyrinth of foreign tongues floating through the air. He wanted to take an alien language on Earth and learn the squawking of the Torans, the grunts of the Zorgres, or the clicking of the Pathorians, but schools on Earth only taught languages from other countries on the planet. Unfortunately, French wasn’t going to be too helpful on the Galileo. Or so he thought, until he heard a boy behind him doing ridiculously complicated calculations in his head in French. Renn turned around and saw that it was Etienne, walking without the winged Toran or the diamond-eyed Mindeerian by his side.

  “What?” Etienne asked, making eye contact with Renn.

  “Nothing,” Renn replied. He turned his head back around, almost bumping into a female Olerian in a red uniform, and apologized for not paying attention to where he was going.

  When they got to their self-defense class, they found the room empty. They pulled out their tablets, finding a very clear note on their class calendar stating that the class would be in the simulation room that day.

  They ran down the halls to make it before the bell chimed, not knowing whether their tardiness in checking their calendars would be forgiven. They crossed the doorway with minutes to spare, finding Professor Paro already there, standing with a deceptive patience.

  Renn watched the door while the students filed in, excited at seeing all the various species.　He saw Zorgres and Lucians, Olerians and Janiuns, then smiled and waved as Meta, Joss, and Lux entered; a smile that faded when Desh, and Kia walked through the doorway.

  Renn looked at the Mindeerian, wondering what his problem was, and then froze when Desh turned his head, glaring at him. Renn wasn’t sure how long it would take him to get used to other Mindeerians overhearing his thoughts, and felt sympathy for all the humans he grew up with.

  “Welcome to self-defense class, Students,” Professor Paro began, as the door slid shut. “All First Years are expected to participate whether you plan on pursuing a profession that requires fighting or not, so don’t even try to get out of it. I can already hear you scheming.”

  Leo gave a defeated sigh, causing Paro to grin to himself before continuing.

  “I do expect that your experience with weapons will vary, depending on your species, and whether your home planet is at war or is lucky enough to know peace. Those involved in an ongoing war will have been taught defense since you were toddlers. The others, however, will be far behind. I will warn you that those behind in defense studies will not have leniency for too long, so it would be in your best interest to spend time in your off hours catching up.

  “Now, there is an immeasurable number of planets and species in the universe,” Paro continued, “and it would therefore be impossible to train you how to fight them all. What the school expects you to accomplish during the next four years is to learn as many species in the Federation as you can and how to survive coming into contact with them. There are only so many types of weapons and only so many ways to fight a war. If you familiarize yourself with the variations of the types, then you will be more expeditious in picking up a new wea
pon. The only way to do this is by repetition.

  “Let’s begin with the basics, so I can see how much training you’ve all had. Today is target practice with handguns. I do expect perfect aim by the end of the school year, regardless of the weapon, but we’ll start with guns from your home planets, to make it easier for you. Ava, please distribute handguns accordingly,” he finished

  “Distributing handguns,” Ava replied.

  Everyone in the class instantly held the various weapons from their home planets.

  Renn's right hand dipped from the weight of the small, black compact laser gun that appeared in his hand.

  “Seriously?” came a voice to Renn's left. He looked over and saw Joss holding her gun with a look of derision.

  “Why do I get the toy gun?” she asked Professor Paro.

  “I wasn’t aware that there were any weapons that could be considered toys, Joss,” Paro replied.

  “What, you think I can’t handle that gun?” Joss asked, pointing to the large firearm Kia was holding.

  “Joss, you have small hands. This gun was made for your size,” Paro said, scoffing at the question.

  “Doesn’t mean I can’t handle the bigger guns,” Joss replied, standing by her complaint.

  “That’s enough. Ava, replace Joss’ human gun with a Zorgre hand cannon,” Paro commanded.

  Joss stumbled, trying to hold onto the massive hand gun that appeared in her hand.

  The Zorgres in the room looked at each other, grinning at the tiny human girl trying to hold their weapon.

  “I want you to use this firearm for the rest of the class today, and let this be a lesson to everyone,” Paro continued, walking amongst the students. “What makes you a valuable member of a team is not the size of your gun; it’s how efficiently you use it. It’s important to learn how to use everyone’s weapon, even your enemy’s, if that’s all you have, but if you have the choice, then choose a weapon specifically designed for your body. Whether using a sword, knife, or laser gun, it should be an extension of your hand. Fumbling with a weapon that’s the wrong size may take you an extra second or hinder your aim altogether. Either of which may cost you your life.”

  Renn held the gun snug in his hand and tried to imagine it as an extension of his body. He pressed his fingers against the handle and accidentally released a laser blast that soared into the air, disappearing in the ceiling-less room. All the students turned to look at Renn while he looked around like someone else could have done it.

  “For those of you who have never held a gun before,” Paro began, as he watched his inept nephew, “please remember that the barrel of the gun should never be pointed towards anyone unless you're ready to kill, your finger should never be on the trigger until you are ready to fire, and above all, no messing around! Weapons are as deadly to you as they are to your adversary. Just as a precaution, Ava, please eliminate the pain.”

  “Pain eliminated,” she replied.

  “Now, let’s begin.”

  They all lined up and began firing at their designated targets. Renn looked around while blue lights raced across the room, creating faint zipping sounds, before they hit their circular metal targets. The laser blasts created clean holes through the metal, allowing students to see how well they were doing.

  Renn and Leo, however, needed a basic introduction on safety and aiming from Dylan, since they were the only students in the class who hadn’t been taught basic weaponry in elementary school.

  Renn cringed when he fired and the hole showed up on the edge of the target. He snuck a peek at Meta, relieved she hadn’t noticed.

  He refocused on the target and took aim again when a very clear voice in his head said, It might do you some good to practice between classes.

  Renn looked around and found Paro standing behind him. “Yes, sir,” Renn replied. He aimed again, but couldn’t get himself to pull the trigger until Paro had walked away.

  At least he wasn’t doing as lousy as Joss, he thought, while he watched her struggling with the large Zorgre gun. Halfway through the class, Paro offered her the “toy gun,” which she took with a “Thank you, sir” and fired every blast with better aim, until the class bell chimed.

  Renn followed Leo and Dylan down the corridor, since both of them seemed to remember how to get from the simulation room to their philosophy class. They walked into the room and Renn stopped in the doorway, causing Meta to bump into him from behind.

  They both apologized awkwardly, until the students behind them asked them to move out of the doorway, but Renn couldn’t get over what he was looking at. The classroom looked like a small garden. The ground was made of fresh grass with small trees stretching to the ceiling, boulders and logs to sit on, and water cascading down a stone wall. He sat in the grass next to Dylan and inhaled, smelling the fresh vegetation.

  “Is this another simulation room?” Renn asked.

  “Nope,” Dylan replied. “Most school ships have at least one room where they emit artificial sunlight. A lot of the species require vitamin D, which they get from the lamps.”

  Renn looked up into the lamps, causing the black film to cover his eyes. He looked back down and said something to Dylan, but Dylan jumped back and gave a small yelp before he could stop himself.

  “Whoa, not cool,” Dylan said.

  Renn ducked his face to cover his eyes when Meta looked over to see what was going on, and waited till his eyes adjusted and the black film retracted. When he could feel the black film recede, he looked back to Dylan, who stared at him in embarrassment. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know Renn was half Mindeerian.

  “I’m sorry,” Dylan said. “It’s just a bit freaky if you haven’t seen it before. You know that black stuff even covers the whites of your eyes?”

  “Yeah…I know,” Renn said.

  Renn tried to brush it off, then glanced at Meta, giving her an awkward smile. He looked around and saw a spider crawling up a plant. At closer look, he saw that it was robotic, carefully trimming the leaves. He noticed insects all over; robotic bees pollinating the flowers, robotic grasshoppers pulling weeds, and robotic caterpillars carrying nourishment to the vegetation.

  Renn watched Desh, Kia, and Etienne enter the room. “Okay, how many classes are we going to have with them?” Renn whispered to Dylan. There were probably five hundred students in the school, which would make around a hundred and twenty five in their class. Considering all of the ways to choose the class schedules... He tried to calculate the odds, but lost the equation somewhere in the middle when he realized sleep patterns would throw off his calculations.

  The professor walked in, and Renn smiled, recognizing an Earthling if ever he saw one. He was human of course, handsome, early thirties — with blond hair and chiseled features. The Earthling took off his shoes the second he walked into the room, like most Earthlings would in an attempt to spare the grass. Renn had refrained from going barefoot, wanting to fit in, but the professor didn’t need to bother. He smiled after he sat, and introduced himself as Professor Hevia. He was very upbeat and talked as if life itself were an amazing gift. Anyone less beautiful would have been dismissed as corny, but the girls in the class swooned while he spoke, and Renn felt a little jealous when he listened to Meta’s thoughts, admiring the professor’s appearance.

  “We’ll be studying problems concerning matters such as existence, reason, values, knowledge, language, and mind,” Professor Hevia explained. “Philosophy relies on rational argument to justify your view, since not everything can be explained by science — despite what the Sensati say. If you ask a robot what its purpose in life is, it’ll give you a definitive answer — a reason for its creation. Ask any living species, and you’ll leave them stumped.”

  Professor Hevia continued rattling off theories from human existentialism to Olerian anathism, and attempted to pull the students into discussions. He asked them to throw out their opinions, but most remained silent on the first day, waiting to see how open the other students were before chiming in.<
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  ***

  Leo, Dylan, and Renn walked into their species class, oohing and ahhing while they looked around. Lining the walls were cages of live specimens, slithering and crawling, walking and growling, giving the impression that the room itself was alive.

  The guys wandered over to a shelf near the desks and looked into jars of small life forms they had never seen before. They argued whether some of them were an actual species or whether they were deformed for some reason. The place was like a freak show, displaying the most peculiar forms in the Federation.

  They spotted three empty desks in a row and raced to claim the seats when the room began to fill with students. The bell chimed and the professor walked up in front of the class. She was smaller than an average human, with dark brown skin, covered in fuzz. Her face had large folds in it, distorting its shape. Her eyes were very prominent, three times the size of a human’s, with a green circle in the whites of each eye. When she looked at them, it was as if she could see everything about them, creating an unsettling feeling when the students first made eye contact.

  “My name is Professor Zaneer,” the professor began. “This year we are going to memorize species using the Federation’s system of categorization. Cybernex usually spends decades, sometimes even centuries, monitoring a planet before retrieving enough data for the Federation to come up with categorizations for every living species on it. These categories are the easiest way for any of you to estimate your survival rate before entering an atmosphere or coming into contact with a new species.

  “Organisms are categorized: A, B, C, D, and E. Every species on this ship is a Level A species, because we all have the propensity to get along with other species. Level A plants would be benign to a minimum of 75% of species in the Federation.

  “Level B species are more inclined to distrust and therefore kill, but if one can communicate with them and earn their trust, then they can be just as docile as a Level A. Level B plants are benign to a minimum of 50% of species in the Federation.

  “Level C species are aggressive predators that can be avoided, but dangerous if one comes into contact with them. Level C plants are benign to a minimum of 25% of species.