“As long as they’re still using the same signal after five hundred years,” Stiles said. “But that’s a good discovery. Maybe I’ll start calling you Point-Three-Grav from now on.”
“Oh, my beating heart,” Jimmy exclaimed.
“Anything else over there?” Henrietta asked.
“Not yet, but we got all kinds of electronics here to analyze. This should keep us busy for months.”
Henrietta turned back and continued with her examination, wishing she were as successful. “The chest has a circumference of forty–eight inches, and the neck is eighteen. There are three opposable talons per hand; one is especially long and hooked. I imagine they could punch one of those clear through a human body.”
“No doubt,” Peter replied. He lifted a hand and felt the tip along the longest talon. “Sharp as a knife,” he observed.
“Their jaws and cranial ridges have more spikes than a pro volleyball team, and the eyes have … oh, about forty facets each. They’re pitch-black, too. I can’t see any irises. No body hair at all. Okay. That’s it for the surface description.”
“So find a way inside the sucker,” Stiles commanded.
Henrietta scratched her nose nervously. “For the record,” she told Perry, “the body is now in a lateral decubitus, left position.”
Along the entire body, the thick armor plates seemed impenetrable. The only openings she saw were the eyes, nostrils, mouth, and its butt; and she did not plan to start there. She picked up the mallet and lightly tapped all along the torso with her other fingers near the mallet strike and her ear down low, searching for any hollow sounds. “Hey, did it sound weaker near the lower abdomen?” she asked.
“It did sound kind of drummy down there,” Peter confirmed.
Henrietta groaned as she rolled the large specimen flat onto its back. “Perry, how about ultrasound? Can you safely hit it with sound to look for any irregularities?”
“That should not be a problem, Henrietta. I shall run a full-body scan.”
As Perry passed the ultrasound over the specimen, a greenish-white outline of the creature appeared on-screen. The skull was totally opaque, except for the eye sockets and the opening along its mouth. As the sound waves passed over its chest, the “solid” plating revealed itself into a jigsaw-puzzle of irregularly shaped platelets separated by hairline cracks. Henrietta studied the image closer. “Those almost look like the seams of a soccer ball, huh? Maybe that’s our way in.”
Finding what appeared to be the thinnest, weakest plate, she said, “Perry, freeze that image, zoom in three stops, and superimpose live-feed at three-quarters transparency.”
The overhead showed an ultrasound close-up of an eight-inch wide lower abdominal plate with a washed-out real time video feed of its surface. Henrietta took a white marker and outlined the plate boundaries on its bony skin while following the seams on the screen. She attached her transparent faceguard and bent down very low over the specimen, placing her left index finger on a plate hinge-point. “Laser scalpel,” she requested, holding out her right hand palm-up to Peter.
“Uh, what’s that look like?”
“Geez, the help around here,” Henrietta complained. She looked up and pointed to an instrument that looked like a large powered toothbrush. “That one; slap the handle down on my palm.”
Peter did as commanded.
She placed the laser point at the peak of the plate and began moving the cutting-point along the white line she recently drew, keeping pace with her moving finger. It appeared to be as hard as the armored covering of the spacesuit. The only thing being removed was the chalked line. “Great,” she sighed. “Let’s try the laser drill.” She handed the scalpel back to Peter and kept her hand out. Peter guessed correctly and slapped the drill onto her hand.
“You’re learning,” Henrietta commented. “Now take that thing that looks like a water pick and irrigate the site as I drill.”
Whenever the drilled plate started to smoke, Peter hit it was a squirt of water, keeping the area cool and lubricated. After three minutes of hard work, Henrietta successfully punched a half-inch hole through the plate. “Eureka!” she proclaimed. “Now the fun part starts.” She punched holes in three adjacent plate hinge-points and handed the drill back to Peter.
Peter placed the drill back in the surgical tray and waited for her next command. He noticed Henrietta was sweating a bit, so he took a cotton swab and wiped her forehead.
“You’ll make a fine surgical nurse someday,” Henrietta said. “Now give me the smallest bone saw you can find.”
Peter rummaged through the tray and gave her a miniature knife with deep serrations.
Henrietta spent several difficult minutes sawing along two sides of the invisible hairline crack between the three holes. As she cut through the tough exoskeleton, she could feel the blade follow neatly along the cartilaginous joint along an inclined angle designed so that the plate protected the weaker seam below. She realized the surgical steel would probably never have cut the tougher plate, but only succeeded along the somewhat softer cartilage. She handed the bone saw back to Peter. Carefully studying her work from all angles, she called out for the next tool. “Retractor.” Getting impatient, she added, “It looks like a set of wood clamps, or heavy-duty calipers.”
Peter finally handed her the retractor. She wedged the points between the two plates and screwed the device apart, plying the plates slowly open. After getting about three inches of separation, the entire plate snapped apart with a mighty crack.
“Hey,” Jimmy called out, “you got the lobster cracked open. Anything good in there?”
Henrietta blushed. “Well, looks like this one’s a male.”
“No kidding?” Jimmy asked. He and Ali walked over and peered over Stiles’ shoulder. “Guess it is. So, what happens when he needs to pee?”
“Let’s hope that plate retracts,” Peter suggested.
Henrietta studied the underside of the separated plate in more detail. “I’m guessing when he was alive, these ligaments were more resilient. Now, they look more dried up and shriveled.”
“You are talking about the plate muscles?” Ali asked.
“Don’t you guys have anything better to do?” Henrietta asked.
Ali just smirked.
“Looking at this musculature,” she continued, “I think this plate does retract upward and fits under the plate covering his stomach; or what I assume might be his stomach.”
“That sure adds a new dimension to ‘peeing your pants,’ though,” Jimmy observed.
“I’m sure you have plenty of practice with that,” Stiles suggested.
Henrietta poked the under-skin with her finger. “This tissue is dried out, but I bet this was his real skin when he was hydrated. Give me a regular scalpel, Peter,” she asked. She made a five-inch chevron incision pointing upward through the tissue. It was hard, but pliable. She held out her hand, “Tyndallers.”
“I have absolutely no idea what those are,” Peter admitted.
Henrietta broke her concentration and rummaged through the surgical tray. She found what she was looking for and wedged open the semi-dried tissue she just dissected. Without asking, she took an endoscope and passed it into the cavity. The fiber optics displayed a series of internal organs and muscles which were remarkably similar to human anatomy. “You know,” Henrietta observed, “this bug is almost identical to a human, if not for the exoskeleton and the eyes. That’s just too creepy.”
“Well, maybe there’re only a few ways intelligent life can advance,” Peter suggested.
“Not counting the Hive,” Jimmy argued. “They might as well wiggle in a dessert bowl.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Henrietta corrected. “True, they are gelatinous, but their cells differentiate into separate organs which—again—fairly closely mimic their human counterparts.”
“And,” Ali added, “helped us design Perry, here.”
“Of which I am very appreciative,” Perry added.
> “But it’s only when the Hive’s electro-magnetic forces cease to function upon death when they turn to mush,” Henrietta concluded.
Stiles cleared his throat. “So, getting back to the bugs ….” he suggested.
“Yeah, well,” Henrietta said, “we already got quite a bit of information. Now that I’m in, I’ll take a bunch of tissue samples and have Perry analyze them. I’m sure we’ll learn a lot more.”
* * *
It was the middle of the night and Henrietta and Ali were playing basketball in the cavernous gym. Ali angled the ball under his right arm and wiped his soaking forehead with his shirttail. It was an obvious ploy to slow the game down and catch his breath.
Henrietta hopped back to center-court, motioning passionately for the ball. “Ten point lead; game to fifty. You’d better watch out. Hate to tell Stiles you were beaten by a girl.”
Ali tossed the ball at her ankles, hoping she would miss and thus slow down the pace even more.
“Nice try,” Henrietta remarked snatching up the ball just before it hit her toes.
Truth was, she was exhausted too, but would never admit it. Henrietta began a slow dribble, but did not advance very far. “If you wanna give up, I’ll tell Stiles you weren’t a total wimp.”
“No way,” Ali replied, bending over and grabbing the base of his shorts. “I’m just warming up. Ten points is just what I wanted to spot you.” He began rubbing his face, obviously feeling faint.
Henrietta looked closely at the large boy, “You okay?”
He thrust forward and stole the ball as it bounced up from the floor, slipping craftily under her arm. “Sucker!” He began dribbling in-place, waiting for Henrietta to make her move. She just stood there, mad that she was deceived.
Ali continued to dribble. “Uh, sorry about before. Peter had a little talk with me earlier. He cleared up some stuff.” He switched hands, trying to get Henrietta to bite again; unsuccessfully. “I guess I was being a real jerk.”
“Hey, no sweat; I’m used to it.” She made her move, but missed the ball by a fraction of an inch.
Ali dribbled quickly toward the basket, but pulled up as Henrietta caught up, cutting him off from the lane. He kept his dribble as he waited for his next opportunity. “So, you think Peter will be okay?”
Henrietta looked momentarily distracted, allowing Ali to break loose for a right-handed lap.
“You are a jerk!” Henrietta complained. “Now all bets are off.” She grabbed the ball and threw it at Ali, slapping it into his belly.
“Ouch! Thirty, good guys; thirty-eight, bad guys.” He stopped dribbling and gathered up the ball. “But seriously, how is Peter?”
“He’s better, but his immune system is wack. If I don’t look out, he could develop a secondary infection real easy. Trouble is: it’d be hard for him to fight it if that happens; especially during jump. Lot’s of damage could be done while we’re just sitting there, waiting to come out of K-T-space.”
“So that’s why you stalled for time?”
Henrietta nodded.
“And the cancer …?” Ali asked.
“I think we got it checked. It was real strange, though. It should never have developed so quickly. Two, three years—five maybe—but not a few days. Perry found the precursor cells immediately, and it should have been child’s play knocking them out.”
“Well,” Ali suggested, “each human apparently reacts differently. It’s possible there’s something in Peter’s genes that simply couldn’t handle the artificial nanocytes. Maybe Peter’s system mistook them as invading viruses and blocked them off rather than replacing the damaged cells.”
“Well, whatever it was, Dr. Know-It-All,” Henrietta concluded, “I think the worst is over.”
“Hmmm ….” Ali set up the ball and took a desperation shot from outside the key. Henrietta turned and watched the ball revolve around the rim. It slowed down and fell through the hoop.
“Ha! Three-pointer! Five more points and we got a new game.”
Henrietta scooped up the ball but really did not feel like continuing. She dribbled instead of handing it off to Ali. She glanced up at him shyly, “You know, we could call it a draw.”
“Afraid of my mighty come-back?”
“Afraid I’d need to pick you up off the floor, if we continue,” she replied. “You look beat.”
“Yeah, and you don’t.” Ali smiled between deep breaths. “A draw, huh? Well, I guess I could live with that.” He held his hands out, offering to put the basketball away. Henrietta tossed him the ball and they both walked to the ball cage.
“Good game,” he admitted, stuffing the ball in the wire cage. “We keep playing like that and I’ll be serious competition soon.”
“Won’t surprise me,” Henrietta replied. “This diet is starting to have an effect. What’ve you lost?”
Ali looked under his sweaty shirt like that would provide a clue, “I dunno; fifteen pounds, maybe.”
“’Bout a pound a day; not bad …. Gee, that means you’ll loose, oh, about 180,000 pounds by the time we get back home!”
“Ha-ha,” Ali replied sarcastically, “very funny.” They continued to walk off the court and toward the forward lift. “Well, if you can stand the smell, you can ride up with me.”
Henrietta pinched a handful of her shirt up to her nose and shrugged. “I’m not much better off. So … I think I’ll survive the ride.” They got into the lift and headed up toward the cabins. “This place seems awful big with just the two of us, doesn’t it?” she asked.
Ali nodded.
“I’m here,” Perry interrupted. “Even if you’re alone, I can always keep you company.”
Henrietta was startled out of her skin and looked up to the ceiling. “Gee, thanks, Perry. I keep forgetting you’re everywhere.”
“I can understand that, seeing that I am invisible, but I am slightly puzzled why you all continue to forget I am here.”
“We don’t forget,” Henrietta began, “we just don’t always expect the walls to talk.”
Perry hummed, “It’s not the walls—”
“Just an expression, Perry,” she replied, “just an expression. Don’t worry, Perry, we know you’re there. But seeing only one person—as much as I like you, Ali—will get old very fast.”
“You’re telling me,” Ali agreed. “That Stiles sure has a way about him. Mr. Destruct-o ….”
* * *
Perry could not understand why he was not fitting in. He had a good sense of humor. He provided solutions to the children. He was always willing to talk at any time. As far as he knew, he made the perfect companion.
Whenever he joined in on a conversation, Perry recalled, he detected a slight hesitation from his human friends, like he was interrupting them. He wondered if they resented him. Maybe felt inferior. Perry hoped that was not the case, because it was only a matter of time before he regained the rest of his memories, which would make him that much more knowledgeable and that much more superior. Would hope make him try harder to not recall all his previous database entries? Perry wondered if it would be preferable to selectively erase some of his memory banks. Perhaps a random purging of three quarters of his memory would make him more human.
He brought up an old record of Peter talking to Jimmy: “Jimmy, you’d be far better off not correcting everyone all the time. It makes Stiles mad.”
How could Perry not correct them when he knew they were making wrong decisions? They would always face trouble, and the more knowledge they had access to, the better off they would be. Perry could also never forget his primary purpose in life: protect the human species and fight as efficiently as possible against their chosen foes. That was why he was created. That was the first thing Dr. Hamadi instilled in his core. Where does a personal need end and another start? Perry wondered. Should I be a guardian, a mentor, or a friend?
Why was life so difficult? Perry could solve the most complex mathematical problems devised. He could calculate the best strategic and ta
ctical solutions to any battle situation; but could he establish a true friendship?
What Perry was contemplating was very serious indeed, and he would need to give it a considerable amount of thought. No matter what, this could not be a snap decision; too much simply rested on his abilities, and he was frozen by indecision. Had he had a better concept of what stress really was he would have known what he was experiencing, but because he lacked familiarity with human moods, his emotional state was even worse.
Perry did everything he could to fight off the depression he felt overcoming him.
CHAPTER 17
Antares Star System – Hyper Limit
PERSONAL LOG, Day 19, Year 500, 0530 hours: I’ve finally provided this ship with formalized structure and a set watch schedule. I wish we had more personnel to set up the standard three-watch system but there are only five of us.
So I am scheduled to take the bridge in a half hour. We’ve been doing this for a couple days, and I must say that morale has improved drastically. It’s a relief to see the ship running so smoothly.
We’ve learned a great deal about the Wasatti under my command. It’s quite ironic in that I certainly would have received a Nobel Prize for this tremendous advance, had we been back in civilized space; but to be honest, I’m relieved it happened out here away from the press. As it is, I will not need to suffer all those embarrassing accolades in public. I’ve never really been hungry for fame.
Getting back to our discoveries, other than their tough exoskeleton, it’s surprising how similar the Wasatti are to humans. I directed the dissection of a male of the species, and according to my staff, there are 96% similarities between the specimen’s anatomy and ours. Who’d have thought?
They utilize more copper in their blood than iron, which results in a greenish tint to their skin, like the Hive—one wonders if there could be any connection between them and the Hive, but I cannot see how. But it would still be nice to know how the Hive knew about them before the “discovery” of the Wasatti ever occurred. Somehow, their paths must have crossed. Is the increased copper a pure coincidence?
We are also excited to have gone beyond the Hyper Limit of Antares, and in two days we will reach the location where we first entered this space. So technically, we are beyond the limits of where we can jump, and can now leave any time we want. My only fear is our lack of food. I’m still not convinced we should travel so far without a dependable supply. Without food, we’ll be in serious trouble.