13 Degrees of Separation (19 page)

“Um, I
didn't know you were recording,” the Assistant District Attorney admitted.

“Did
Roland send you?” Thornby asked warily.

That
got the ladies attention. She looked up, eyes flashing. “I'll have you know
ma'am, Mister Roland represents the interests of the
station
in matters
of law. The station itself when it comes to liability either civil or criminal.
The district attorney's office doesn't fall under his umbrella. No matter how
much he'd like it too,” she said as an aside.

Despite
herself Thornby smiled, warming to the other woman. “Well said. I hate the
slike myself.”

Miss
Winters shivered but didn't respond. She pulled out a tablet. “Can I have your
recording now ma'am? And the events from your perspective?”

“Sure,”
the doctor replied, taking the tablet and putting her left hand over the
universal port. She sent a signal and data flowed through her implants to the
tablet. After a moment her implants signaled the download was complete. She
smiled and handed it back. “There.”

The
woman gingerly took the tablet back, eyes wide. “Oh! I had known you had
implants but I hadn't known they worked quite like that,” she said with a
slight hint of wistfulness in her tone.

“Is
there anything else?”

“Just
some questions ma'am,” the attorney said.

“Did
they get that lady? Mae?”

Miss
Winters frowned. “I shouldn't be telling you this, but for your piece of mind,
yes. Yes they did. 'All the way Mae' is in custody.”

“Good.
Wait...” she shook her head, parsing the name out. “Never mind, I don't care, I
don't want to know.”

“It can
keep doctor. You've had a hard and trying day,” the ADA replied.

Thornby
smiled and waved to the two chairs on either side of the metal and glass coffee
table. “Have a seat, let's make this as quick and painless as we can, I've got
an early day tomorrow,” she said, taking a seat and crossing her legs and arms.

Miss
Winters took a seat and adjusted her skirt before she nodded. She held the
tablet in front of her. “Very well, let's begin as they say at the beginning.
Please tell me in your own words what happened prior to the alleged abduction.
Where were you going and where were you coming from. Your state of mind...”

Thornby
frowned thoughtfully and then began to answer.

...*...*...*...*...

“Are
you okay doctor Thornby?” Trenton asked, coming into her office the next
morning. She looked up and smiled.

“It
looks worse than it is,” she said, as he came over and touched her face. She
didn't flinch as he explored the cuts and bruises. The bastards had roughed her
up when they had been cornered. She'd gotten a rash when she'd rubbed her face
on the decking trying in futility to protect herself in a fetal ball as Jethro
took the three hoods down.

“I'm
okay, so is doctor Martel. Thanks for asking,” she replied.

“Quick
heal?” Trenton asked.

“I hate
to use it when it may be needed in trauma. Call me silly and old fashioned. I
still hoard materials in case of future need. If not next year, maybe ten or
twenty years from now.”

“The
cure does you no good in the bottle doctor,” Trenton said. She had scrapes on
her wrists and neck from struggling with the plastic bindings. He made certain
her pupils were okay, she showed no sign of concussion. After a moment he
released her chin and nodded.

Thornby
reached out and patted his thigh. “Thanks,” she said.

“What
happened? I heard part of it in the news,” Trenton said.

She
sighed. She was tired of talking about it, but since his people were
peripherally involved, he had a right to know. Thornby talked with Trenton
about her rescue as she got up and put her coat on. She waved for him to
proceed her as they made their way to the lab.

“I
heard rumors of a Neo savior,” Trenton said, sounding like he was questioning
that.

Thornby
felt the door to the lab close behind her and then she made certain no one was
around before she agreed. “Off the record yes.”

“Why
keep such things under wraps?” Trenton asked. “Wouldn't the publicity... oh,
the authorities do not want to acknowledge a Neo,” he said sounding dispirited.

“It's
not like that! Not like that at all!”

“Oh?”
he asked.

“Look,”
she sighed, running a hand through her hair. After a moment she decided to put
her hair up. She gathered her hair and put it in a pony tail, using a rubber
band to keep it up. “If I tell you something, can you keep it in confidence?
Doctor patient?”

“Of
course.”

“He's
not your patient, he's mine. And technically some of what he is, is classified,
so I won't go into it. But... well, maybe his life will shed some light on
things for you.” She leaned against a counter and told him of Jethro, how he
was a great Neo. “I can't get into details about his abilities, but he is...
unique. Rare, and well, very precious.” Trenton was surprised and amused. She
told him of F platoon, and Valenko's squad. “They are legends in the Marines
already, beyond any mere human. I am very proud to know them. Jethro was on a
dark path before he became a Marine. Now; well, now he's becoming a hero.”

“Interesting.”

“So you
see, we don't want his abilities advertised. If others knew, like the
Horathians, they would go after him. They would try to get his genetic material
or try to kill him just so he can't fight them.”

“I
see.”

“It's
funny. Back, oh, back before starflight, humans changed themselves to be
different. To stand out from the basic norm. To be tigers or elves or whatever
they chose to be. And here you are, trying to fit in, trying to mold yourselves
into conformity, turn yourselves into shapeless forgettable people.”

“Exactly.
Sometimes doctor, being different isn't all it's cracked up to be.”

“Cute,”
she smiled. “I'll take your word for it since I take my shape for granted every
day.”

“I
know. By the way, I had some thoughts on your Malekian issues...”

“Oh?”
Thornby asked, raising an eyebrow. Recently Trenton had let his own eyebrows
grow. They were bushy, but at least he didn't look weird anymore. He'd even
allowed his head fur to grow out a bit.

She had
expanded their deal to repairing the Chimerian cyber implants and even giving
everyone basic Ident implants. The engineers and doctors were upgraded to level
two or three implants in order to help them help her with their project. A few
had been in pain from their crude implants. That was now corrected.

The
Chimerians were busy, almost all had some form of job no matter their age, most
part time. Some sold things they made with their replicators, others did odd
jobs. All took advantage of the free basic education on the station and seemed
to devour as much knowledge as they could.

“Let's
see what you've got,” she said, smiling and leaning over to see his tablet.

 “Apparently,
doctor Standish originally thought they were born neuters and then chose a sex
using some unknown process or chemical mix. It was even indicated that social
pressures drove the gender position. That's where the research and papers
indicated anyway. Apparently that's not the case though. I've been researching
it, comparing what we know to what our representative knows.” She sighed. “And
a lot of what we thought we know, we don't.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.
Apparently the Malekians like some other alien species, had taboos. They were
reluctant to get into the reproductive habits so a lot of what we have on file
is supposition, or vague notes. For instance the clown fish analogy Doctor
Standish found. Clown fish are, or I should say, were, tropical fish from
Earth. They and some species of amphibians were hermaphrodites. They were able
to trade genders when there was an imbalance of one gender or the other. If
there were too many females, one or more females would switch sex over a period
of a standard week or month. In the case of clown fish they were sequential
hermaphrodites in a dominance hierarchy. A matriarch society of sorts. The
dominant female was on top. If she died then the most dominant male would
switch genders and everyone would move up the social ladder.”

“An
interesting ability.”

“Right.
Pass, talk about gender confusion and an identity crisis!” The doctor said
shaking her head. “Anyway, this analogy was applied to our patient's species.
According to the prevailing theory on file, they started as a neuter, then some
would take on the semblances of male or female behavioral traits, this would
induce hormonal changes which would trigger genital changes and then you have
males and females. At least two other sapient species use this, but it's not
true for the Malekians.”

“Oh?”

Thornby
shook her head, frowning. “It seems they genuinely are a 3 sided race. I've
talked with our lone representative. They pass genetic material between each of
the 3 parties, each adding their own gene sequence, then passing it on to the
others. Hormones from each host, as well as the order of partners, all played a
part in how the prodigy developed. Any of the 3 sexes could carry the eggs to
term and then lay them using a pouch, though the more feminine Malekian usually
did so.”

“Oh.
And we've got a neuter?” Trenton asked.

“Yes.
I'm wondering if there is something in the soup, something that is missing to
create a neuter verses a so called male or female. Our representative is
distinctively uncomfortable talking about sexual relations.”

“I see.
And does he, it, understand what we are doing?”

“Yes,
but that doesn't make it easier. We have some genetic material on file in the
medical records, but not the gestation steps. It's all vague.”

“Frustrating.”

“Exactly.
So, for now our representative has retired to San Diego with our Ssilli friend.
Apparently he can run under a dome, and now that he has regrown his flight
feathers and has an antigravity harness, he can fly.”

“Isn't
that risky?”

Thornby
sighed. “At this point, keeping the patient active and comfortable physically
as well as mentally and not depressed and brooding over how hopeless things are
is a good idea. We do need to work on this. We need more medical records and a
greater exploration of avian physiology, and more xenobiology.”

“Which
we don't have on file doctor. There is a limit to our database, even though
we've pooled everything in the system.”

“I
know,” Thornby replied, sounding exasperated. She sighed, sitting back and
drumming her fingers on the desk blotter. “We can get a bit further along with
our Ssilli friend, but those uterine replicators are key here. We need them.”

“So,
um...”

“We'll
figure something out,” she frowned, looking away. “Hopefully before they die of
old age, or I do.”

...*...*...*...*...

“Shouldn't
you be focusing on, well us? The project at hand?” Drusilla demanded. She
didn't like how Trenton tended to veer off topic and into the resurrection
projects. He was doing that a great deal as of late.

Doctor
Thornby frowned. She didn't like the criticism, however well politely
presented. “We can do both, multitask. We tabled the resurrection projects to
deal with your project, but we are getting some interesting cross pollination
going which will hopefully move all three forward.” She nodded to Trenton.

“Ah, I
see.”

“We
haven't forgotten about you, nor them.”

“Well,
it would seem more prudent to attend to the needs of the living over those of
the dead. They have been dead for centuries doctor.”

“Perhaps,
but a few are now awake and alive. They have finite life just as you do, and
their project is much more pressing then yours. Theirs is survival. Yours is
cosmetic,” she said, eying the Chimera.

“I...”
Drusilla frowned, eyes narrowed. Trenton looked up and frowned as well.

“It's
true, we both know it. Your people
aren't
dying. There is no need for
melodrama. They have a problem, a mental one, an inferiority complex along with
genetic issues from interbreeding and inbreeding. You're a doctor, Trenton, I
wish you would see the truth.”

“We
are
inferior doctor,” he replied stubbornly.

The one
thing that would get under her skin more than anything else was someone feeling
self pity and wallowing in it. “What you are, is a people. You are what you
make yourselves out to be, no better or worse than any of us. Different than
humans, but
people
damn it. Terrans, you like humans like me descended
from Earth. Your origins may have started in a petri dish, but we're way beyond
that now. Your outward appearance has no meaning to me,” she tapped her chest
meaningfully. “If anyone else has a problem with your appearance, well, that's
their short sighted stupidity.”

“Oh?
And you have so many others working for you?” The female Chimerian asked
scornfully.