“Thank you. Let’s move on to the next compartment.”
Frank pushed lightly off the wall and repositioned himself, with his hand flat against the cool, glowing ceiling.
“This one is also a refrigerated compartment,” said Kelkad. “And it is also labeled in Hask’s handwriting. It says ‘organs for transplant—lungs.’” His finger traced out the words as he pointed to them.
“Please open the compartment.”
Kelkad did so.
“Please pull it out all the way,” said Dale’s voice.
The captain gave a healthy yank. As soon as he let go of the four-holed handle, he began sailing under inertia across the room. Frank jockeyed for position. Inside the drawer were four blue semicircular masses.
“What is inside the compartment?” asked Dale from Earth.
“Four Tosok lungs,” replied Kelkad, having now floated back.
“The normal number found in a Tosok body, correct?”
“Correct.”
“Is there any way to distinguish a right-front lung, say, from a right-rear lung?” asked Dale.
“Not without doing a dissection or tissue scan,” said Kelkad. “Indeed, they are essentially interchangeable—you can successfully transplant a lung from any position into any other position.”
“And these four lungs, they were not in storage either when you left your home world?”
“No. As I said, we had no organs of any kind in storage. These would have been harvested from Seltar at the same time her hearts were taken out.”
“And the next chamber over, what does that contain?”
“The label says it contains gebarda—the cleansing organs that serve the same function as your kidneys and spleen.”
“Please pull that drawer all the way open,” said Dale.
Kelkad did so, this time managing to keep his position near Frank.
“Are there four organs in there?”
Kelkad’s tuft moved forward in assent. “Yes.”
“Thank you,” said Dale. “Now, being mindful of the Court’s time, perhaps rather than searching methodically, we can have you simply go straight to whatever drawer might contain Seltar’s kivart.”
Kelkad closed the hexagonal drawer containing the four gebarda, then scanned the rest of the doors.
“We’re waiting, Kelkad,” said Dale’s voice.
“I am looking for it.”
“I do have the term correct, don’t I?” said Dale. “The kivart is the single organ in the Tosok body responsible for producing free-floating nerve bundles?”
“Yes,” said Kelkad. “But I do not see it here.”
“The kivart can be harvested for transplant, can’t it?”
“Yes.”
“In fact, as an organ that a Tosok has only one of, it’s one of the most important ones to harvest, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Indeed, a Tosok can get by for extended periods with only three lungs, no?”
“In fact,” said Kelkad, “in the elderly, the strain of transplanting a fourth lung outweighs the benefits of having it in most cases.”
“Indeed, you can get by, as long as you don’t exert yourself, for an extended period with just two lungs, correct?”
“That is right.”
“And, again so long as one doesn’t exert oneself, three hearts, or even just two, would be enough to allow life to continue, no?”
“That is right.”
“But the kivart—well, if the kivart goes, severe motor-control problems develop almost at once, isn’t that so?”
“Yes,” said Kelkad.
“Indeed, without his or her one and only kivart, a Tosok would die quickly, no?”
“That is correct.”
“And so,” said Dale, “Hask would doubtless have harvested Seltar’s kivart, which, in many ways, is the most crucial of all the organs to recover, and—”
A muffled sound, then Judge Pringle’s voice: “Mr. Rice, caution your client. I will not tolerate outbursts in my courtroom.”
“I’m sorry, Your Honor. Hask, be quiet—”
Hask’s untranslated voice, plus the near-simultaneous translation, both somewhat murky, as if being picked up by a microphone some distance away: “Do not pursue this line of questioning.”
“I’m sorry, Hask.” Dale’s voice. “It’s my job to defend you.”
“I do not wish this defense.”
“Mr. Rice.” Judge Pringle again. “Mr. Rice.”
“A moment, Your Honor.”
“Mr. Rice, the Court is waiting.”
“Hask.” Dale’s voice. “Hask, I’m going to finish.”
“But—”
Judge Pringle: “Mr. Rice—”
“Kelkad,” said Dale, “it is true that the kivart is a crucial organ, yes?”
“Most definitely.”
“And yet it is missing from the collection of harvested body parts, no?”
“Apparently.”
“Hask would have known to harvest it, no?”
“Doubtless. And, regardless, he would have consulted the procedures manual when confronted with Seltar’s accidental death; that would have reminded him.”
“So expected body parts are missing here, too, aren’t they?” said Dale. “Just as they were from Dr. Calhoun’s body?”
“I—I suppose that is true,” said Kelkad.
“Thank you,” said Dale. “Your witness, Ms. Ziegler.”
“Umm, no questions,” said a muffled voice. Ziegler sounded perplexed—and Frank didn’t blame her. It seemed as if Dale was arguing Ziegler’s own case: that Hask had first practiced his aberrant behavior on one of his own before trying it on a human being.
CHAPTER
34
The camera had been shut off. Frank floated in the starship’s sickbay, looking at Kelkad. They were more alone than any two people in the solar system right now; even Mir currently had more people aboard, as well as constant contact with the ground crew in Kaliningrad.
“We should return to the planet,” said Kelkad.
The planet. Not “to Earth.” Not “home.” The planet. The gulf between them was gigantic.
And yet Frank knew he would never have another chance like this one—away from the other Tosoks, away from the media, away from the rest of the scientific entourage, away from the court.
“Kelkad,” said Frank, “privately, just between you and me, do you think Hask killed Clete?”
Kelkad did not hesitate. “Yes.”
The word surprised Frank. He’d expected a denial—but perhaps denial was a human failing.
“But why? Why would he commit murder? Is he—is he crazy?”
Kelkad’s tuft moved backward in negation. “No more than any of us.”
“Then why would he do it?”
Kelkad pushed gently off the wall. “We should leave.”
“No, please. Just between you and me. I have to know.”
“You would not understand.”
Frank thought about that. It had always been a possibility—that the aliens’ psychology would prove so different, so bizarre, that none of their actions would ever make sense to a human. “Try me,” he said simply.
Kelkad had reached the far side of the room. He stuck out his front hand to brake himself. Once he’d touched the wall, he began to drift slowly back in the other direction. He seemed to be thinking, as if deciding how to possibly put the idea into words the human might understand. “Like you,” he said at last, “we believed we were created in God’s own image—and that meant we must be perfect beings, divinely designed and flawlessly executed. It gave us great comfort knowing this—how much easier the problems of life are to bear when you know you are a child of God!”
Frank thought about his own Catholic upbringing. He nodded slightly.
“But then,” said Kelkad, “like you, we discovered the principles of evolution.” He had reached the near wall again. This time he grabbed onto one of the storage-unit handles to a
nchor himself.
“In our case, it was different,” continued Kelkad. “You humans have a world that is mostly water, with landmasses isolated one from the other, creating discrete habitats in which evolution can proceed separately. Indeed, it astounds us that your race has only so recently learned of evolution, for it should have been obvious many hundreds of years ago.
“We Tosoks may be forgiven, I think, for taking longer to puzzle it out. Our world is about twenty percent water, and there are no isolated landmasses. Many species roam the entire globe. Still, there is the fossil record—again, on a drier world, such as ours, sedimentation and therefore fossilization take place less rapidly; our fossil record is spotty, although it is supplemented to a degree by naturally mummified remains. But its analysis nonetheless hinted at a sequence of steps between ancient lifeforms and modern ones.
“Still, the proof of evolution came not, as it did on your world, from observing isolated populations showing specialized adaptations, but later in our intellectual development through biochemistry, through analyzing the divergence in genetic material between related species.”
“We do similar things here,” said Frank. “Although the fossil record of primate evolution is scanty, we know, for instance, that apes and humans split five million years ago, based on analyses of the degree of difference between our DNA and theirs.”
“Exactly: what for you has been a subsequent corroborating proof of evolution was for us its principal evidence. But no matter which route one takes to that knowledge, the conclusion is inescapable: both you and I are the products of natural selection, not divine engineering.”
“I suspect that’s as universal a truth as the law of gravity,” said Frank.
“You speak sacrilege!” said Kelkad, angry enough to let go of the handle. He was now floating freely a meter from the human.
“I—I beg your pardon?” said Frank.
“To our everlasting shame, it is true that the Tosoks, and all life on our world, evolved. And, as we have learned, it is true that life here on Earth evolved, too. But somewhere—somewhere—in this vast universe, there must be true children of God, created in her perfect image.”
The words were out before Frank realized how impolitic they were: “Really, Kelkad, you can’t believe that.”
“I believe it with every fiber of my being,” said Kelkad. His tuft was moving excitedly. “God must exist, or the universe is without meaning and purpose. Since the latter premise is unacceptable, the former—the existence of a divine being—must be true.”
Frank was struggling to understand. “And so having discovered that you weren’t the products of divine engineering, you came to Earth looking to see if we were the products of it?”
“That was part of our mission, yes.”
“And what makes you think we’re not?” asked Frank.
Kelkad’s topknot split in a shrug. “At first we thought you might indeed be—you were so different from us! Evolution produced the Tosok form, and we had assumed it was a sort of generalized product of random chance—not perfect, you understand, but we felt that the basic fourfold symmetry, with arms front and back and legs left and right, would be a model that evolution would tend toward. But your form—twofold symmetry, arms above and legs below—was so bizarre that we thought perhaps we might be staring at a miniature form of God, that in you we saw the true form of the creator. But then…”
“Then?”
Kelkad seemed reluctant to go on, but after a moment he did. “Once we discovered the biochemical fact of evolution, we could not help but look at ourselves, and the other forms of life on our world, in a different light. Far from being the optimized form we had always assumed, we began to realize that there were many basic flaws in the Tosok body plan. Our hearts, for instance, allow oxygenated and unoxygenated blood to mix.”
“Reptilian hearts here on Earth do that,” said Frank. “They have three-chambered hearts; humans have four-chambered ones that keep used blood separate from freshly oxygenated blood.”
“A fine design,” said Kelkad.
“Well, it’s better than the reptilian one,” agreed Frank. “But, then, reptiles are cold-blooded. They don’t have to support a high level of metabolism. But the warm-blooded forms on Earth—mammals and birds—each independently evolved a more efficient four-chamber heart.”
“They are fortunate,” said Kelkad. “We do not have such things. Oh, we manage a high level of metabolism, but that is attributable in part to having four hearts working in unison, rather than to a basic efficiency of the Tosok cardiac design. Such flaws prove our lack of divine origin—just as such flaws prove the same about yourselves.”
“What flaws?” said Frank.
“Your throats, for instance. Food can block your own air passageway, and—”
“And—my God!” said Frank, heart pounding. “My God! And our eyes—our eyes are wired backward. And our guts contain an appendix that does nothing useful at all. When Hask dissected Calhoun, he was looking for design flaws, for things that would prove we had not been created from an intelligently designed blueprint.”
“In fact,” said Kelkad, “I suspect he was looking for the opposite—for proof that you were divine, that we had found God’s true children in our own backyard. His disappointment must have been profound at discovering that you, too, had evolved inefficiently through trial and error.”
“Wait a minute,” said Frank. “If Hask thought we were God’s children, what would move him to kill one of us in the first place? Surely he must have thought that God would frown on murdering one of his creations?”
“Hask did not intend to kill Calhoun.”
“Oh, come on! I don’t care where it evolved, no life-form could have survived that kind of dissection.”
“The dissection was done after Calhoun was dead, of course.”
“But to sever a limb!”
“Hask cut off Calhoun’s leg,” the alien captain said in agreement. “Doubtless to Hask’s astonishment, Calhoun bled to death.”
“A clean cut like that, right through the femoral artery? Of course he bled to death!”
“That was likely Hask’s first clue that the human design was inefficient.”
“Well, what the hell would happen if I cut off your leg?”
“I would be unable to walk, until the leg regenerated or was reattached.”
“What about blood loss? We’ve seen Tosoks bleed.”
“A small amount of blood would escape, but valves in our arteries would close, preventing any significant loss.”
“We don’t have valves in our arteries,” said Frank.
“Imagine Hask’s shock when he discovered that.”
“Christ,” said Frank. “Jesus Christ.” He closed his eyes. Humans do have valves in their veins—which carry used blood back to the heart—but not in their arteries, which carry freshly oxygenated blood away from the heart. When venous valves fail to function properly, the result is varicose veins. “Dammit, dammit, dammit,” said Frank, getting it. “The human heart is located near the top of the body; fresh blood going down into the legs needs no help—gravity causes it to flow down anyway. It’s only blood coming back up, climbing four, five, or even six feet from our feet to our heart that’s in danger of slipping backward; that’s why we have valves that close when it does so. But the four Tosok hearts—Stant testified in court that they’re located near the bottom of the torso. So, in you, blood going from the heart up to the head is also prone to slipping back. Of course you’d have valves in both your arteries and in your veins.” He shook his head, angry with himself for not having seen it earlier. “But why would Hask cut off Clete’s leg in the first place?”
“Leg amputation is a standard method of prisoner restraint on our world.”
“Prisoner!” said Frank.
“Yes. Clearly Hask needed to keep Calhoun from getting away while he went to do something—presumably summoning me, his commanding officer. He had no bonding equipment with h
im, but he did have his monofilament cutting tool.”
“But why would he need to restrain Calhoun?”
“Of that,” said Kelkad, “I have no idea.”
CHAPTER
35
As soon as Frank returned to Earth, Hask demanded a chance to consult privately with him and Dale Rice. The two of them drove out to Valcour Hall at the University of Southern California, and met with Hask in his room.
“I wish to change my plea,” said Hask.
Dale kept his face impassive. “Do you, now?”
“That is my option, no? I wish to change to a plea of guilty.”
Dale looked over at Frank, whose eyebrows were high on his forehead. “You realize,” said Dale, looking back at Hask, “that if you plead guilty, the presentation of evidence will end, and Judge Pringle will charge the jury with sentencing you.”
“Yes.”
“And,” said Dale, “the sentence they will likely call for is execution. Often, the death penalty is not invoked even when applicable to the crime if there’s still a shadow of a doubt. A jury might feel comfortable sentencing you to life imprisonment, but generally will want to be convinced to a higher degree before calling for execution. But if you admit your guilt, any remaining doubt in the jury’s mind is eliminated.”
“I am prepared for the consequences.”
Dale shrugged. “It is, as you say, your prerogative. As your lawyer, I should inform you that a better option would be for you to simply dispatch me to Linda Ziegler’s office and tell her that we might be receptive to a deal. We could plea-bargain this down from murder one to manslaughter—you’ll certainly not be executed, and probably get off with five years or so.”
“Whatever,” said Hask. “Just so long as the presentation of evidence ends.”
“All right,” said Dale. “But, look, I’ve gone to a lot of trouble preparing my summation and argument. You really owe me a chance to present it—at least to you and Frank.”
Hask’s tuft waved in confusion. “I hardly see the point of that.”
“Humor me,” said Dale.
“There is no reason to—”
“I think there is,” said Dale. “Please.”