Primal Estate: The Candidate Species

by Samuel Franklin

  Ryvil entered the coordinates, tuned his disruption wave to a needle thin beam, and initiated transport. Ryvil found himself standing in the corner of Rick’s bedroom. He knew he needed to work fast.

  They were both there, crumpled in numerous layers of pillows and blankets. Under an animal skin was the woman that had been given to Rick, sprawled with her legs sticking out. Next to her was Rick’s form under a blanket with a pillow over his head. They were both fast asleep. They probably already had sex, Ryvil thought. That’s not good. Go for the chest, he considered. You don’t have much time. Ryvil aimed for Rick’s torso, high in the chest, and gave the slightest pulse. I can’t create too much damage, he thought. It would be too obvious.

  After the shot, Ryvil saw movement. Good. A hit. As Ryvil initiated transport back to his ship and only twenty seconds had passed, he heard a bell ringing in the other room and was back on board the Provenger ship.

  The phone started ringing again. Rick was standing next to it in the kitchen drinking his coffee. He picked it up. It was David, his brother, the successful one of the family. He was the one who’d always gotten good grades, had become a doctor, and was now with the Department of Health and Human Services, the lead policy advisor for the Department on all things medical. Rick and his brother had a falling out over the government healthcare takeover and hadn’t spoken in years. Dave was panicked.

  In a matter of about thirty seconds, he told Rick about what had happened to him the night before. It was either real or a dream, as he said, and at the end of it he was instructed to consult with his brother for confirmation. Apparently, the Provenger had anticipated that all humans, upon being released from their abduction experience, would question its veracity. The only way to confirm it would be to check with another person, someone they know and would trust. So now Rick was to be the collaborator.

  “So what do you expect me to say, Dave?”

  “I want you to tell me I’m losing my mind!” David pleaded.

  “No, you aren’t,” Rick responded, wondering how many of these calls he was going to get now, realizing, almost hoping that his role would be only to act as a reference, advising people that the Provenger were not a figment of their imagination. “They’re for real. So is the tag on your wrist.” Dave hadn’t yet mentioned it, but his silence on the matter confirmed that he had one.

  There was continued silence on the other end of the line. Rick understood. He’d been there a few times himself, trying to assimilate this information into his personal form of reality. Everything gets upset; everything has to be reordered. Some beliefs need to be obliterated; some need only slight modification. It starts the moment you hear it and the implications percolate for days after.

  Rick was patient. He waited. Then he felt like he was waiting too long.

  “Are you still there?” Rick asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “You need me to say it again?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay. The Provenger are real. Obviously, I don’t know exactly what they told you, but they are here, and more than likely you’re going to have to do what they say. I’ve seen what they’re capable of, and we have to cooperate.” Rick added this last part, thinking as he spoke that he had no idea who might be listening to this call. He’d better sound on board, he thought. “Every indication is they monitor everything we say.”

  “They told me that I would have to conform health policy to their guidelines. I’ve got a list of pharmaceuticals here as long as my arm that they’re telling me to recommend as dangerous. They want us to recommend that people stop eating wheat; start eating whole foods, avoid preservatives, artificial sweeteners, and wean themselves off their medications. This is insane! I thought aliens invade and destroy things, not issue dietary guidelines!”

  “Yeah, those are Hollywood aliens. Real aliens are very health conscious. A straight-up fight would almost be preferable, if I thought we’d have a chance,” Rick added.

  “I can’t recommend these things. I’ll be the laughing stock of D.C. I’ll be asked to resign. Then I’ll be useless to them.” Dave started sounding whiny.

  After all Rick had been through, he wasn’t in the mood. He had to deal with a patriot whack-job building a private army per his direction, a pain amplifier masquerading as a wristwatch attached to his arm, and a Paleolithic woman in his bed with his son and two dogs. Rick had never let the dogs on the bed! Five years of training down the tubes all because of a drunken Cro-Magnon with a nice smile and an incredible rack. Now, all his brother had to do was make some recommendations that would actually help people, and pass them off as the government’s. That was his difficult task. “Yeah Dave, the government recommending things that make sense would immediately make people think aliens have taken over.”

  “This isn’t a joke, Rick!”

  “You’re right for once. My advice would be to make the recommendations. Then, if your boss tells you to resign, do it. And be glad you have no more responsibility. Hopefully, they won’t kill you as long as you keep your mouth shut. You’ll be glad to know I put you on my no-kill list.”

  “You have a no-kill list? I didn’t get a no-kill list.”

  “Believe me, Dave. They’ve contacted others, and those people are being told to do the same thing. The quicker you come out with the recommendations, the more you’ll look like a leader, a maverick…if it’s your career you’re worried about.”

  “Dad!” Carson yelled from the other room. “Dad!”

  “Carson, I’m on the phone with your uncle Dave. Hold on a second.”

  “Dad!” Rick heard Shainan yell.

  He threw the phone down, finally letting their tone register in his overburdened mind and knowing something must be wrong. In two strides, Rick was at a sprint and rounded the corner to his bedroom to find Carson on the floor in a fetal position. He was in Shainan’s arms, throwing up blood. Shainan looked up. Rick jumped down to him and asked him if he could breathe.

  He nodded and said, “Uh-huh.”

  Rick glanced quickly at Shainan and thanked her with his eyes. He grabbed the phone to call 911 and then stopped. They’d take forever to dispatch an ambulance. Then he’d wait forever for a doctor. Then they’d do something for him that probably wasn’t good. He’d have to explain Shainan. What if, he thought, he went to the Provenger for help? Synster had promised him anything he wanted. They could get to the ship immediately. The Provenger medical technology had to be far superior. Before Rick thought much more or could even reflect on the implications, he’d activated the contact on his tag.

  “Help is on the way, little man.” He whispered in Carson’s ear as he and Shainan cradled the boy.

  Chapter 22

  Red mooN waxiNg

  During Bryock’s initial panic, the minutes slipped by without account. His surprise with Yootu’s charge at the door was only displaced with his amazement at the bulge in it and the crack that ran down its center. This was his facility, and he knew how it was made. The material in this door was supposed to be harder and thicker than anything in Yootu’s body, not to mention a steel battering ram. He had obviously been conned by the supplier. He’d make his complaint. He was angry at the thought that all this time the only thing separating him from the possible vengeance of this angry beast was an inferior door not manufactured to specifications.

  Then Bryock focused on Yootu. There was little doubt in his mind that he was dead. Such an impact could do little else, even if the door was below grade. Bryock initiated a physiologic scan of Yootu’s cell and confirmed his suspicion. Dead.

  Bryock had mixed feelings. On the one hand, he was now relieved from having to care for Yootu for the rest of his life, but on the other, he had grown to like and respect the human. Still, he didn’t mind getting rid of the costs. The food, energy resources, and rent for the apartment cell were all adding up. And Yootu’s sparring revenues had been sliding. Soon they would not have been covering his costs.

  Bryock went to his office to can
cel the class that was scheduled to view him this period. Thankfully, they hadn’t been there to see the spectacle. That age group hadn’t yet reached the level where they were allowed to see such a thing. Bryock then called for a disposal crew to make a report and remove the body. He would also make a call to Synster, he thought, and explain what had happened. Perhaps, since this was all a result of Synster’s removal of Shainan due to operational needs, there would be funds available to compensate him for his loss. He wanted to get an estimate on the door before he confronted Synster regarding compensation. It was a longshot, but the more expenses he could justify, the more he was likely to get.

  Bryock returned to the cell door to find a serial number. He looked through the cell’s window to find Yootu standing at his sink washing his face. Bryock’s first impulse was to open the door and tell Yootu how relieved he was that the scanner had been wrong, but then he quickly recalled the reason for this whole mess in the first place, and he began to fear Yootu. The skin on his bare scalp tingled. Best keep him isolated; he might still be angry. In fact, I’m certain of it, Bryock thought as he watched Yootu slowly turn his head and glare at him. A chill ran between his shoulder blades.

  The class didn’t come, and Bryock canceled the disposal crew. He kept Yootu in isolation. He would need to spend the next few days trying to think of a way to get rid of him. He was too unpredictable now. He was too dangerous to even consider sparring appointments and certainly too dangerous to make available to females. Since Synster had been the cause of all these problems, Bryock would press him for a solution. As to the display of violence and the broken door, Bryock would keep that quiet. Should he be allowed to sell Yootu, no one would want a killer.

  Chapter 23

  The emerGency Recombinant

  In ten minutes Rick, Carson, and Shainan were on the Provenger Nation Ship in an examining room. Carson’s bleeding had been stabilized, and he was resting comfortably. Shainan had gone berserk and could not be consoled. She had to be sedated by technicians before there was peace. It took four of them to do it. Rick suspected she knew something he didn’t but then chalked it up to raw fear. She was secured in an adjacent room.

  Rick watched Syrjon closely. He was an old Provenger and appeared to be responsible for the entire physiology unit as they called it. It looked much like an emergency room on Earth, except that is was much cleaner, smelled nice, and had quick service. Syrjon was a solid man of about six feet, and had wrinkles, which was strange, as most Provenger did not. He had rounded features with a nose and ears that looked a little too big for his head. His torso was thick, which seemed to be more from the shrinkage of age than from a weight issue. Rick hadn’t seen any fat Provenger and didn’t consider Syrjon to be in this club. He walked with a slight limp, which Rick took to be from the standard afflictions of age.

  Rick and Carson had been directed to don robes similar to the one in which Rick had found himself during his first unfortunate visit. But this time he felt he was being treated as a patient, not an experiment. Then Syrjon did something that took Rick completely by surprise. He removed a device about the size of a cellphone from a drawer and waved it over Rick’s tag. The evil thing released his arm and dropped into Syrjon’s palm waiting below.

  “You won’t be needing this anymore,” Syrjon stated.

  With surprise apparent in his voice, Rick questioned, “Did Synster say you could take that off? I mean, I’m glad it’s off.” Rick paused for a moment, looking Syrjon in the eye. “You must know I’m glad it’s off. I guess what I’m asking is if you trust me now.” Rick felt awkward. Why am I acting so stupid? I must be under a lot of stress. I certainly needed a good night sleep, he thought.

  “We are going to save your son’s life. Would you like us to continue, or are you going to grab me and use me as a hostage for some impromptu and ill-defined plan for revenge? ” Syrjon asked, with a smile.

  “No, certainly,” Rick responded. “I was just surprised.”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll get it back. It has your contact chip on it.” Syrjon put it on a countertop and looked at Rick. “I am three-hundred and eighty years old, but I assure you that I’m quite capable of defending myself.”

  Rick looked at him in amazement.

  “Have a seat, both of you.” Syrjon motioned to a row of four black reclining chairs. “I’m going to need to hook both of you up to some sensors before the Recombinant can be calibrated to know you. This will not hurt. We need these waves to be able to flow from the source to the cap, through all the tissue in your body. We will make you both healthy and effectively young.”

  Syrjon recovered some wires that looked to be hanging from the back of the chairs and proceeded to attach them with small cushioned clamps to everything on the body that came to an end. After what Rick had been through with his first visit, this provoked considerable anxiety. Carson just appeared embarrassed. After placing the skull cap, the remaining attachments involved all of their fingers, toes, and their penis. Syrjon sensed Rick’s apprehension.

  “You don’t want it to stay old do you?”

  “No, sir, thank you,” replied Rick.

  When it was his turn, Carson had a worried look. He asked, “It won’t get smaller, will it…you know, because I’ll get younger?”

  “I’m not sure,” Syrjon responded, almost in anticipation of the question. He then winked at the boy. He’d studied Earth humor as part of his research on human health. It was a big factor, apparently. “You’re already young. The things we repair on older specimens that make them young do not reverse their growth, if that’s your concern. The repairs simply eliminate the damage that time and toxicity have inflicted on DNA.”

  Rick, watching everything, had to remind himself that this being, and all Provenger, considered him food. When he discovered the Provenger would put Carson through a machine that he knew nothing about, he insisted on staying with him. After an initial analysis, Syrjon actually recommended they go through the process together. Syrjon told him it would help with the Recombinant’s accuracy of the repairs necessary to eliminate Carson’s cancer. Since they were human, having a blood relative present would give the Recombinant an additional frame of reference for the repair of Carson’s DNA. He also mentioned to Synster that it would ensure the health and fitness of his chief operative on Earth. Synster had agreed.

  Syrjon explained that this was a machine they would both have to walk through for a brief period, after which they would need to recuperate for days, possibly a week. Since Rick was fifty years old and Carson had cancer, as well as a laceration of the lung, their bodies would lose considerable cellular material. This would necessitate the temporary bypass of many of their organs, particularly their kidneys, so they wouldn’t be overwhelmed by the waste products. They would be kept alive by Provenger technology that would act as their bodies’ filters. Syrjon told Rick that if any of their organs were compromised, they would take what they needed from Shainan. Syrjon assured him this was very unlikely. Rick declined and argued, but was not given an alternative. This all fell under the provisions of the Project, and there was no negotiating.

  Syrjon completed his preparations. The attachments were not painful, and Rick could feel what seemed like a small energy vibration through them, mostly where the attachment was fixed to the skin. The sensation seemed to fade as it progressed up the body. Rick was preoccupied with what might happen to poor Shainan. Carson was concerned he might get an erection.

  Syrjon read the apprehension on both their faces. “The waves moving through you now are familiarizing our computer with your body, your metabolism, all of your common and unique parameters. When you walk the Recombinant, it will know you and be able to adapt to your body’s reaction.”

  “Will it completely cure Carson’s cancer?” Rick wanted to make certain they were getting their intended results.

  “Absolutely,” responded Syrjon. “Better than that, the second you emerge, both of you will be less likely to get cancer than anyone else
on Earth. Now, relax.”

  Rick wanted to spend this time well. He needed to know things about the Provenger that would help him devise a strategy to defend himself, his family, and maybe Earth, if that was possible. This old guy might divulge something valuable. Rick knew he needed to get him talking, and people talk most about the things that interest them, so Rick knew what to do. He needed to ask the right questions. He also didn’t know how much time they had. I’d better get started, he thought.

  “Can we talk?” Rick almost begged, “Can I ask you some questions?”

  Rick thought he’d start out with what would appear to be self-interest regarding this immediate situation and then work toward information about the Provenger. “How is it that Carson got his cancer?”

  Syrjon looked at him for a moment. He had been authorized to answer questions they might have about human health. Syrjon had been briefed regarding some of the issues aggravating the harvest, and he knew that Synster wanted Rick to be educated regarding the true nature of their chronic disease problem. But he also knew he couldn’t be too specific. He decided to speak in very general terms.