by Jaxon Reed
He stood up, and started pacing.
“It was a beehive of activity in those days. Passenger ships filled with Scientists and Professors would land not far from here, and all the experiment stations were fully staffed and functional. Things grow bigger here, and better. The food produced from Redwood soil tastes better than any other world’s. The plants and animals are larger, even though gravity is about the same as other ‘Goldilocks’ planets. We were making extraordinary discoveries almost daily, and it was fascinating work. It seemed more exciting than the typical frontier planet, somehow, especially knowing all the while there are primates living in the woods.
“We dreamed of big things. Think of the lumber just one tree can provide. Think of the meat from one cow. Multiple industries would be impacted, we thought. Textiles, medicine, agriculture. But around this time, trouble started.”
He sighed and glanced around the room. Several people nodded in agreement.
“The primates are the most interesting thing about Redwood, of course, and garnered most of our immediate attention. But, we found they are the hardest to observe. They’re arboreal, living deep in the forest. Their communities are very well guarded, night and day, and we had difficulty drawing close enough to make good observations. Oh, we tried a number of approaches. Drones, camouflage, creeping ever slowly nearer to try and acclimate them to our presence. But their sentries are very good and they are wholly intolerant to the proximity of outsiders. Nothing gets close to their ‘cities’ without notice.”
I couldn’t help myself. I had to interrupt.
“What do they look like?”
“They’re very large monkeys, twice as big as gorillas on Old Earth. But, in basic appearance, they most closely resemble our spider monkey.”
I nodded. It was a Central American species.
“Ateles geoffroyi.”
He quirked an eyebrow at me. I shrugged.
“Classifications are sort of a hobby of mine.”
“Oh. Well, to continue, there might be different species, or even sub-species. We don’t know. We’ve been severely hampered in our ability to even make basic observations, much less any real research, by both the State and circumstances. And of course, we just don’t have the personnel to do much anymore.”
“Because of the troubles?”
He nodded.
“Like I said, we had difficulties getting close to the primates. But, we were able to set up a network of sensors around the closest community, a few hours from here. The sensors let us track comings and goings. We operated under the presumption that foraging parties would provide ideal opportunities to observe the creatures. And we were right. When they are away from their communities, we are indeed able to sneak closer. But their sense of surrounding is extraordinary, and they don’t stay in one spot for very long. So, we have to move quickly when the sensors indicate movement, and pick a location they are most likely to visit. It’s hit or miss, but eventually we had some success.”
He stopped pacing.
“Then we noticed an anomaly. At least one primate was a recluse. He lived outside the communities. On occasion, he’d show up on the sensor grid as he approached the others. Naturally, he intrigued us, and we tried to get a closer look. Somehow he got the nickname, ‘Fred.’ I’m not sure who came up with the sobriquet, but it stuck.”
He sighed deeply, reliving painful memories.
“Our first science team gaining proximity to Fred learned several important things about Redwood primates. For one, we were able to again confirm the primates’ senses are incredibly acute. Fred was aware the team was there long before they saw him. For another, we learned how violent these giants can be. Fred attacked the team with a vengeance, before they had a chance to settle in. He clawed or bit every member. There were eighteen people. Fortunately, one of them was a Ranger, armed with a pistol. Despite being severely injured, the Ranger managed to shoot Fred in the arm, making him retreat. The team made it back here and received medical treatment. Everybody survived.”
He sighed again, looked around at others in the room.
“Subsequent expeditions met with similar fates. They’d encounter Fred, he’d attack, they’d fend him off while suffering bites and other injuries. Despite his large size (he’s about ten feet tall), our weapons seemed to scare him. Fred could be always be scared away with a gunshot or two. But we haven’t been able to kill him. There were times we thought he’d been killed by gunfire, but he continues to survive somehow.
“Time marched on. Scientists and Professors involved in early efforts returned home to report their findings. New people came in. We started pulling back on expeditions into the forest, because they all seemed to end in disaster when Fred attacked the parties. We scouted out and found other primate colonies deeper in the forest, but these had their own recluse monkeys who also attacked us.
“Then we started hearing about . . . issues . . . with early party members who’d left Redwood and moved on to other assignments. One Scientist snapped and assaulted a lab assistant, killing him. Another bit her mother-in-law in the neck. There were disturbing reports of drinking blood. Several months passed, more reports came in, and eventually a pattern started becoming evident.
“The last straw occurred when a Professor named Sven Gottfrid attracted the attention of Agents on New France. Evidently he’d been attacking people late at night, killing them in gruesome fashion and drinking their blood. Once captured, Agents figured out Gottfrid actually needed to drink blood in order to survive. He’d try to control himself, but after going without for a long time, he’d turn violent and resort to murder to get his fix. The story that came back, heavily censored by the State, was that he died in his jail cell trying to drink his own blood.
“The Agents investigated his background and history, and somebody noticed a pattern associated with other Scientists who’d visited Redwood. Anybody who’d been on a deep woods expedition, specifically, anybody who had physical contact with Fred or one of the other recluse monkeys, had a high probability of turning . . . bloodthirsty.”
He started pacing again.
“The State reacted about as you’d expect. Anybody who’d been to Redwood was quarantined, if they could find them, and questioned. Travel was restricted. All planetside personnel had to abandon their stations and work. Existing personnel were confined to Redwood City. Agents of the State figured out who most of the infected team members were, and those people all disappeared. Eventually, restrictions loosened slightly, and a small contingent of Rangers was allowed to return here, to keep an eye on things. We still provide a monthly report to Agents in Redwood City. I think the State is mostly concerned about ‘vampire monkeys’ leaving their habitat and contaminating other planets, so this station was meant to be a ‘coalmine canary’ of sorts.
“Scientists and others who worked here but didn’t go on expeditions did not disappear, thankfully. But all our findings were suppressed. Our papers went unpublished. We were told not to discuss anything about Redwood, on penalty of internment. In fact, no one, not just us, is allowed to discuss exobiological conditions on Redwood. Even innocent Internet queries are closely monitored.”
I nodded. I knew about that from direct experience.
“Low-key agricultural experiments at the AES locations were eventually allowed to resume, so long as they could be carried out remotely from New Texas A and M. Special permission to visit them is given on occasion, when a human presence is deemed absolutely necessary, but the paperwork involved makes it a pain. Fortunately, one benefit of the paperwork is, it allows us to give Professor Kalinowski a heads up when someone plans to visit AES Three.”
He nodded at my raised eyebrows, answering my unspoken question.
“Yes, we do keep track of things. Several of us are . . . ‘accomplished hackers’ might be a good way to put it.
“All contact with wildlife while visiting an AES on Redwood must be documented in an after visit report. Over time, the State began to figure ou
t that not all wildlife on Redwood is dangerous, and the mid-forest primates are where the problems lie. Of course, we told them that early on, but bureaucrats rarely listen to those in the field.
“When the bans on research started coming down, several of us decided to continue despite the State’s edicts. With the approval of New Texas A and M, we found ways to return to Redwood, and resume our work. As the years went by, we picked up a few additional people that friends on New Texas smuggled to us. Dee Dee, for instance.”
I turned to look at her. She smiled back, flashing white teeth.
“And now you’re here. A person who has been infected off-planet by one of our original researchers. As you can imagine, we are extremely interested in studying you. You have a unique link to Redwood.”
He stopped pacing again. I shifted the weight on my feet. The thought of being poked and prodded made me nervous. As if sensing my discomfort, the Professor raised his hand to fend off my worries.
“It’s true we are operating discreetly here. The State would say, ‘illegally’ if they knew about it. But, all our research on you would be carried out under guidelines established by our Internal Review Board back at the University.”
I stared at him with a blank look on my face. His wife, Mrs. Cruz, spoke up.
“That means we’re not going to hurt you, dear.”
“Oh. Okay. That’s good.”
A couple of light chuckles floated around the room.
“Our colleague Professor Kalinowski has filled us in on several of your capabilities, such as stealing quadcopters without getting caught. He evidently did not know you were hematophagous, and frankly I don’t blame you for not sharing that bit of knowledge. You fed during your time with him, as you’ve recounted, with hidden vials of blood. I don’t think you would have attacked him had you not had the blood, which is our real concern. It seems you haven’t attacked others in all your time hematophagous, finding mammalian substitutes for human blood when necessary. Professor Kalinowski vouches for your character, and I’ve argued for allowing you to stay. As a group, we’ve agreed to it.”
A long pause. He took a deep breath. He glanced around the room, probably at those who’d voted against me staying, I thought.
“I’ll be blunt. We’re operating a clandestine research mission completely off the State’s grid. They don’t know we’re here. We have no intention of letting them know we’re here. Should you jeopardize our mission, or seek to harm one of us, we’ll execute the State’s prerogative in that APB to eliminate you.”
I gulped. Well, there it is, I thought. They’re saying either get along with us or we’ll kill you.
A long pause. They seemed to be waiting for me to say something.
“I’ve got no love for the State. Happy to help your research any way I can.”
The Professor nodded.
“Very well. I don’t expect to have to take such drastic measures, but you need to understand what we’re dealing with, and why. We’re not going to let twenty years of research go down the drain. All of us have sacrificed deeply to be here. We’ve committed our lives to this. You’re essentially stuck here with us. We trust you, for the most part, to be non-violent, and any tendencies otherwise will be dealt with harshly. At the same time, you offer us a fascinating opportunity to learn more about our primary exobiological interest, and we’d like to know as much as we can about your condition.”
I nodded. Several people around the room were nodding. Dee Dee smiled. Connie furrowed her brow and wouldn’t make eye contact. The O’Donnell triplets were grinning ear to ear.
“It’s settled, then. As for accommodations, the triplets have requested you room with them. Are you amenable to their request?”
“Sure.”
The three burst into cheers.
“Yes!”
“Alright!”
“Hoo-wah!”
And the meeting broke up.
-+-
The triplets lived at the highest elevation in the Ranger station. I gathered details as we headed that way after the meeting ended, all of them speaking at once and excitedly assuring me their quarters were awesome.
Evidently, Mr. and Mrs. O’Donnell concluded the boys could stay in their own place when they turned 13, the standard age of accountability for the State. Everybody pitched in to build separate quarters for the boys above and away from the family’s main house.
The triplets thought this situation to be outstanding, and often expressed amazement they had the tremendous good fortune to live on their own. Over time, I came to suspect the real reason the O’Donnells suggested the arrangement was simply to get them out of their home.
The boy’s tree house was in fact above and to the side of their parents’, about 50 feet up. To enter, we climbed up a rope ladder. Another suspicion crossed my mind after living there for a while, climbing that ladder every day: the triplets’ house was higher than everybody else’s in a deliberate effort to make them burn off energy.
This was, after all, a community of extraordinarily bright researchers and Scientists. I wouldn’t put a conspiracy like that past them.
One great advantage in starting out the day from the highest point: you could get to other parts of the station quickly. A fireman’s pole offered a quick exit straight down. I burned my arms from friction the first time I used it, then learned to control my descent better. Other exits to points all over the station were provided by zip lines.
I had to admit the zip lines were a lot of fun, but they were extremely dangerous. Letting go at the wrong time meant plummeting to certain death. But they were a lot of fun.
The triplets’ tree house was pretty simple. It had a large bedroom with bunk beds, which was perfect since there were three of them and four beds. I didn’t feel like I was imposing on anybody taking the fourth one. A bathroom, a small common room, and a large porch where the fireman’s pole, the rope ladder, and zip lines were attached comprised the remainder of the house.
Meals were mostly eaten with their parents. Mr. and Mrs. O’Donnell seemed generous and polite, and never questioned me too closely, which I thought was classy. They were both Scientists, exobiologists in fact, and had been with the Redwood team since the beginning. The triplets were their only children. I really can’t blame them not trying for more . . .
Bert O’Donnell was a short, thin man with a shock of red hair on top that rarely stayed combed for long. I’d never seen a naturally red-haired person before. His wife Margie was a natural blonde, which is also unusual, at least on frontier planets. It wasn’t the same shade as mine, though.
Mrs. O’Donnell had a bubbly personality. She was talkative, polite, and always made sure we had plenty to eat. Mr. O’Donnell was more reserved and spoke less. But he often seemed to have a twinkle in his eye, as if relishing some private humor.
After breakfast with the O’Donnells on my first full day at the Ranger station, I made my way toward the garden to see if I could help out in some way. I figured I was best qualified for menial labor, being a Servant and all. On my way there Professor Cruz saw me.
“There you are, Marcus. Let’s find Physician Patel and let him have a look at you.”
So I was redirected to the medical building, staffed by the Patel family.
-+-
“Fascinating.”
Physician Patel and Professor Cruz watched a hologram of my internal organs. I’d just finished drinking a quarter liter of blood from the Ranger station’s blood bank.
“So, his body absorbs the new blood through the digestive system, and . . . what? Does his existing blood need fresh blood that’s been digested? Explain it to me, Jivin.”
“That I cannot do yet, Curtis. It’s obvious his body needs the blood, though. Look at this chart.”
“Hey, Doc, I could use some more of that stuff.”
They stopped talking and turned to look at me. Physician Patel had a look of surprise on his face.
“Nobody has called me ‘Doc’ since my
residency back on Bharata. We don’t use the term ‘doctor’ anymore.”
I nodded. “Makes sense. ‘Doctor’ is Latin for teacher, anyway.”
The two men looked at each other. Patel blinked at Cruz, then looked back at me.
“I’m interested in how a Servant came to know Latin. But I’m tasked with your physiological attributes, so I must prioritize.”
I nodded. “Fair enough, Doc.”
“Don’t call me that. Now, earlier this morning you say you burned your arms sliding down the triplets’ flag pole. Let’s see your arms.”
I held them out. Both men stared closely at them.
“Are you sure they were burned, Marcus?” Professor Cruz asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“But they’re not burned now.”
“No, sir.”
“Indeed,” Physician Patel said. “It is as if they were never hurt. Marcus, you said yesterday when you were bitten a few years ago, the fellow ‘took a chunk’ out of your neck?”
I nodded.
“And, after a couple weeks there were no more signs of it? Where did he bite you, exactly?”
I pointed at the spot on my neck. The Physician gave the area a long close look.
“No scar tissue at all. Hm. Curtis, I’m thinking his restorative capabilities are incredible. Especially after drinking blood. Perhaps his first injury years ago healed from his own blood. Now, with new injuries, fresh blood seems to speed his healing.”
The Professor nodded. “Strong recuperative powers might also explain why he’s never knocked out for long. It also gives us a clue why Fred is still alive after being shot so many times.”