"So you say you have little memory of this time where you... submerged?" he said, looking up from the instruments, making hasty notes on his tablet.
"Kind-of. The memories are all the same: get up, graze, groom, sleep, graze, groom, over and over. No real higher thought than survival and safety. Should I be worried? I seem to be OK now, but sometimes I feel panic, and my instincts seem stronger than they were before. Humans smell like predators, Doc. Did you know that?"
"Maybe because that's what we are, evolutionarily speaking, or efficient scavengers, either could apply,” he said, smiling at me. "You say hares aren't social creatures by nature?"
"No sir, they generally keep to themselves. Any bond they do make though is very, very intense."
"Under the circumstances, I'd say that’s what saved you." He looked at me ominously.
"Saved me? From what?"
"Psychosis. You say you feel a little jumpy, but again, that’s to be expected; you altered yourself to be a prey animal. I’m no expert on morphic biology, but I've done some reading, and in fact, I pulled your med file before you arrived, just in case I had to treat you,” he said and paused, thinking a moment.
“You see, humans are social animals. That many years in isolation with no one to talk to, and it would drive one of us insane. You however just slipped deeper into instinct when there was nothing around to stimulate your higher brain function. I'm surprised you don’t have more short-term memory damage, or speech issues, but I suppose that’s the benefit of nano-augmentation. They held those parts of your system in a kind of standby, fixing any degradation, as was their programming. I am not seeing any damage, and aside from being jumpy I think you will be fine. You’re a very lucky lady."
"Thanks Doc, but I don’t feel so lucky. I can't describe it to you, how it felt. I mean, I’m glad to have my reason back, don’t get me wrong, but I have never felt such peace. It almost seems wrong to leave it," I said reflectively.
"That’s the thing about Paradise, its price is always very high,” the doc said. I looked up at him and was impressed with his armchair philosophy. He snorted. "What, you didn't think an old saw-bones had any sense beyond medicine?"
"No, it's not that. It's just... more has happened in the last few days, than has happened in the last eight years of my life."
"I wanted to talk to you about that. I know this situation is traumatic for you, and your pace these last two days has been a bit frantic. You take it easy, give yourself time to readjust. Your body might be augmented, but your psyche isn’t so armored. If we had more time, I'd order some therapy. You just remember what I said, at the end of the day, you're only hu..." He caught himself. "Mortal."
I laughed. “Thanks Doc, I am going to try but I don't know what they are going to let me get away with."
"Well, if you have any trouble, let me know. I have some authority around here."
I thanked him and left. For a navy doc he was surprisingly compassionate, but I suppose years of staring at death gives one a unique view on life. It was nice to know there were good people in the world still. My inner cynic choked on my sudden magnanimity, but for the last two days the people I met had seemed good enough. Charlie was even getting downright friendly. Something inside of me seemed to stretch and enjoy all the new stimulation, the new challenges, the new puzzles, but most of me was still angry. Angry for a lot of things. Angry for the control they exerted, the lack of compassion that seemed to exist. Micro vs macro. The age-old struggle. I couldn’t judge a person by their species, but I couldn't judge a whole species by a handful of people. I shook my head, trying to clear it of its metaphysical cobwebs, as I made my way back to my quarters.
I tapped my glorified wristwatch, and my door swung open. Logging onto my computer, I checked my schedule. Most of what I had to do was reading, getting caught up on current events, politics and the news of the last six years. I felt my stomach twist. I didn’t want to deal with all this right now. I had just had a pleasant conversation and didn't want to sully it with the news, so instead I took my doctor’s advice and queued up the computer music library.
I flipped through the collection, designed to keep crewmen sane and entertained on long space trips, moving immediately to classical. I was surprised by how complete the catalog was, but I suppose with a crew of five hundred you had to cater to diverse tastes. The song I was looking for came into view, and I cued it for play.
Slowly, sweetly, beautifully, I heard the music make its way to me. I perked up my ears, settled down in my bed, and let it wash over me. This beautiful seductive feeling, pure bliss. I was an audiophile before the shift, but after it a whole new world of sound ranges, notes and beauty became mine for the taking. Music had taken on a whole new meaning. Some genres became too hard, too screechingly painful, while others became heavenly. I closed my eyes and let myself drift, trying to let go of all that held me, seeking my peace. Slowly, ever so slowly it came, and for the first time in three days, I felt almost normal. I felt happy. The strings built to crescendo again, the flutes murmured in the background, the horns triumphantly echoed the melody of the strings, and I was enraptured.
Drifting, my ears happily twitching. Eyes closed, riding wave after wave of beautiful sound. Slowly it faded, as the song ended, decrescendo, leaving me back in my quarters, focused, tingling and happy. I stretched out, forepaw over forepaw, elongating my near slinky-like body and finally felt like I could get some work done.
The ship lurched and a brief prism of colors flashed by my window to a deep inky blackness, devoid of any feature. As suddenly as it came, it passed, with a bright flash of light in my quarters that hurt my eyes. I watched a human space station drift lazily by and could see blinking lights just beyond. We had just jumped! We were at a hub! Forgetting my earlier reverie, I hopped up to my window, eager for the second light show.
I paid more attention this time, no longer lost to the music surrounding me. My sharp lagomorphic ears picked up a hum that quickly escalated to a high pitched whine, and then, after a brief moment of perfect stillness, again the lights flashed past my large picture window, only to reveal different patterns of stars just beyond its horizon. It ended as fast as it had started, and I turned my focus towards the computer.
Setting to work, my eyes scanned the history file on my computer. Part of my mission was to catch up on eight years of current events and political attitudes. Slowly I worked my way through the boring file replete with news articles and video, and after just a few pages it was clear to see that very little had changed. Anyone who has ever read history has seen the cyclical patterns that shape mankind, as well as the brutality and feral rage that still haunts the species like an ancestral ghost. The singularity had come, a new intelligent species discovered, and still mankind was ruled by xenophobia and fear. Pharmaceutical companies that for years had profited off of treatments but rarely cures now made billions off of life-extension nanites and designer alterations, and in spite of all of this advancement, all of this light, the world seemed just as crazy.
Human lifespans had boomed to two hundred years, and humanity was growing beyond the capacity of the pale blue orb that had sustained them through their infancy. Mars and Moon colonies were also booming, but strangely, extra-solar colonization had not taken off, and as the pressure grew so too did the rage and violence. Humanity, having grown out of its infancy, seemed to be coming firmly into its own problematic adolescence.
The hours ticked by, and my head ached with new facts, bulging against the walls of my skull. I hopped up on the bed, flopped over on my back, and hung my head off the side of the bed. I’m sure it looked hilarious, but I closed my eyes and tried to take stock of the last two hours of study. I felt stiff, but I was beginning to get a good grasp of it. All of this study work was helping me use my mind again. It was a potent therapy, but it did nothing for my cynicism. Eight years gone, eight years with another race floating out in space, and they had learned nothing! Gently I chided myself for my optimism. If they
were ever going to change it would take time, just like it had with the Mendians.
The Mendians' Great Cataclysm. The defining event for their species. Even after seven years their story could still hold me in its awful power. The story of how they lost their world, how they lost everything. Billions dead, a world obliterated, a solar system destroyed, but in their darkest moment they found hope, a leader and a path that helped them rise beyond their crueler natures. They emerged better, stronger and wiser. Darkly I wondered, would it take that much to elevate the humans? Was the only salvation of mankind to be borne out of tragedy?
In spite of the good fruit the ashes of their world had borne, I wished no such fate on humanity. The loss of their world left a permanent and visible scar on the soul of the Mendian people, shaped them in a way I had never seen previously and hoped never to again.
I grieved at what I had seen since the beginning of my mission. I thought of humans alone in the night, angry and fearful, and wondered how different I was from them. Even now, eight years later, I was still angry and so full of judgment that I could hardly move. I sagged against the weight of my predicament.
I had no choice. I had to go on, I had to face the Mendians because if not, I was abandoning them like I had Joyce, and all the others on that ship. It couldn’t be about anger anymore, it couldn’t be about my frustration. It was still deep inside, but if I failed, my only legacy would be cowardice and suffering.
I couldn’t stay here, in this room, haunted by my ghosts. In that moment, I kept thinking of her and then of my situation. All it served was to make me feel trapped, desperate and terribly alone. I thought of contacting Charlie, but I didn't want to talk, didn't want to burden him. I wanted out.
Chapter 8
I sat in the entryway to my quarters and stared at the door. I needed to leave. I needed to get out and away from this place and my memories. It wasn’t home, but it was all I had. I was scared though. I had been warned to keep a low profile, keep my head down, see to my mission, but in that moment, if I didn’t get out, I felt as if I would scream. I took a deep breath, tapped my wrist device and began to explore the ship.
Roaming the corridors of the steel labyrinth that was the Roam I made my way past the entertainment decks, briefing rooms and generic decks of gray walled quarters. Most of the floors on the crew decks were grated and not smooth, which allowed for easier access to the pipes and wires beneath, but they would catch on my paws, and after a while they started to hurt. I found, slowly, that my exploration was not having the calming effect I had expected. I wasn't used to this, to being surrounded on all sides by people, to the strange and artificial noises. I was keeping it in control, but I was still feeling terribly down and homesick.
Every now and then I'd run into a shocked or curious crew member, surprised to see a snowshoe hare wandering about the decks. Morphics were officially banned from service after all, and for a moment I worried that my presence was causing a stir. Quickly putting it out of my mind though, I continued on my travels. I needed this, and surely my presence, while unexpected, wouldn't cause a riot. I came across two large double doors that seemed to have a lot of people going through them. When the door opened it smelled like all manner of food; it seemed to be the main mess hall of the ship. Curious, I hopped up to the double door, hit my wrist device, and the doors slid open.
What followed next was the sound of complete silence. The galley was full of people noisily enjoying their meal. Until they saw me, that is, and then one by one everyone started to get quiet. No one expected an animal to walk in on dinner. The curiosity and tension rose in the air, forcing me to freeze, out of sheer instinct. My head cleared and I realized how stupid I had been. Shaking myself out of my defense mechanism I worked my way backwards out the door the way I came.
As I exited the mess hall, my mind, nearing full panic, put it all together. I had assumed too much about how little I would be noticed. As the nauseating feeling moved through me, my only thought was returning to my quarters, contacting Charlie, and hiding away.
Hopping down the corridor, I was suddenly interrupted by someone yelling my full name. "Snow, Snow Dawkins! Snow Dawkins! Just a few minutes please." I froze. Who would know me here? I slowly stopped to turn around and sat up on my hind paws, scanning ahead. I saw a woman running toward me, which immediately sent my instincts into overdrive, and then there was a man shoving a bright light in my face. Reflexively, I backed away and tried to dip my head away from the light. Aggressively, the woman started yelling questions.
"How does it feel to be the first morphic to serve aboard a UEA starship?" she asked in a tone which demanded answers.
I swallowed. She was a reporter. Oh god, this was the last thing I needed. How the hell had she found out I was here?
"No comment," I said shakily.
"Do you think this is a big step for morphic rights? Do you support the full inclusion of morphics in the military?” She was pushy and rude. My heart was racing. I needed to get out of this.
"No comment, please, no questions!" I was growing desperate. I looked around for someone, anyone, wishing Charlie was nearby.
I was trying to hold it together, but she had me cornered. Pressed up against a bulkhead, I could feel my chest heaving. Sensing my discomfort, she continued with her relentless assault.
"Do you see the Chancellor as a morphic sympathizer? Do you believe he is being influenced by the Mendians unknowingly?" My head darted side to side; there was no way out.
"Please! Let me through. No comment! God, leave me alone." I tried to press through, but she kept yelling and shouting at me. Everything in me told me to run. I was scared and descending into full-blown panic. The reporter didn’t seem to have any care about my condition. She just kept badgering me. I felt my hind paw thump-thump-thump against the floor as my fear mounted and my instincts raged within me, trying to take control. My heart was beating a mile a minute. Then I heard someone shout across the hallway.
"Caroline! Who let you out of your cage? Leave the Ambassador alone. I am afraid you’re gonna have to come with me, or you will be leaving as soon as we hit space dock,” the man said, grasping the upper arm of the reporter.
"Oh, a girl has a right to a story. Besides this is the biggest thing to hit in months, and right aboard the Roam. Come on, what harm is a few little questions?" She pulled away, looking almost angry, in that nonplussed, professional manner of business executives.
The man knelt down and looked at me. I quietly told him I was OK, but physically I was panting, my chest was heaving, and I felt more than a little scared. Looking back up at the reporter, I heard him speak.
“She looks like she's about to have a heart attack. You need to back off now. Part of your embedding agreement says you will cooperate." He was more stern now, an air of tension in his voice.
"Oh fine, whatever." Dejectedly she motioned to her camera-man to turn off the camera. The blazing white light was suddenly out of my eyes. I could see the security officer after I blinked a few times, and he made a little motion with his head, telling me to leave. I wasted no time. I saw my opening and jetted down the corridor.
I don't know if I breathed again until I was back in my quarters. Seeking out the peace of my bed, my nice soft safe place, I settled down. As I caught my breath I realized that the secret that was my mission was now out in the open. Fumbling with my computer I slapped my paw down on the interface and said, "Computer- Activate news feed, Space News."
A "Story Alert" flashed in violent reds across the screen, portending doom or the latest celebrity breakup. Quietly I watched, turning up the volume.
"Reporting tonight from the UEAS Roam, Caroline Alvarez, on embedded assignment, interviewed the new Mendian Ambassador Snow Dawkins."
There I was on the screen, panting and scared, shouting ‘no comment’ over and over looking, like a trapped and scared animal. The humans would certainly not like that. Breathlessly her voice broke in.
"As you can see, the new morphi
c Ambassador to the Mendians was not too talkative, and obviously very afraid. Just what was she afraid of? Exposure? Attention? Why would a diplomat need to worry? It's up to you, our viewers to decide."
The announcer came back on. "...And we take you now to the Earth capitol in the Hague where the Chancellor has issued an official statement."
"Good evening ladies and gentleman. Tonight as you are well aware, a secret executive order was made public, against the strong urgings of Earth Central, and at the expense of global security. We condemn the actions of those who so recklessly disregarded the safety of Earth to bring a sensitive mission to light."
"In regard to the executive order, the Chancellor and the Council of Seven determined that contact with the Mendians was of sufficient value to take this extraordinary action. As you are all well aware, it has been many years since our last contact, and we felt that continued communication is the only safeguard we have to a further and productive alliance. Now, we have no time for questions, thank you for coming, and may Earth and her colonies continue to prosper."
The room lit up with questions as the head of communications left the podium emblazoned with the United Earth Alliance seal. Everywhere camera flashes went off as the room descended into a cacophonous din. The cameras were now back at the news desk as the reporter went on."
"Is this the newest scandal to rock Earth Center at the Hague? Is the Chancellor a morphic sympathizer? Let's go now to our military correspondent, retired Major General Johnny Rizzuto. General, what, if any, impact is this going to have on UEA readiness?”
"Well I can tell you it's going to be devastating to the morale of the men. History shows that a military is only as strong as its weakest link, and if we have seen anything from the video, she is obviously weak. Morphics don’t serve for a reason, their adopted deficiencies and instincts make them unfit for service. I strongly condemn this action by Earth Central." He was full of hatred and vitriol, his bald face red on the screen.
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