Read Primal Estate: The Candidate Species Online
Authors: Samuel Franklin
Primal Estate: The Candidate Species (2 page)
The black sphere’s white haze dissipated and Ryvil knew it was back, a little dustier for the trip. The trap had been successful, and what Ryvil needed was onboard. He approached the sphere quickly, accessed the com-port, and pressed the outside edge of his gauntlet to make contact. His mission was accomplished. He had made a subtle change in the sample. Now, to escape without notice, he thought.
Inside the sphere, contained in a suspension fluid in complete darkness, was a living carnate male named Ablu, and a dead rabbit. Ablu was conscious and unharmed, save for a bleeding shin and a heart that was racing from the panic of being trapped. He was unable to breathe in a black fluid that had the slimy thickness of blood. As minutes passed and his lungs filled with it, Ablu wondered why he did not suffocate, and he began to calm. If he had known what lay in his near future, he would have wished instead to be mauled by a wild animal.
Outside the sphere, Ryvil strode away with purpose, amazed, yet again, how the Algorithm had correctly predicted the preceding events. Despite the fact that it was simply a conscious entity existing only within the confines of the Provenger computer networks, Ryvil considered the Algorithm his friend. It was able to process infinite variables simultaneously, consider every element of a known system, and accurately determine future outcomes. It had told Ryvil, in its usual dispassionate and secret report, exactly what was needed to achieve his plan. It was one of his few allies and fellow conspirators.
When the sphere arrived, a signal had been sent to the main science deck where Provenger began to respond, initiating systems that would make use of the new sample. As automated equipment came to life and began approaching the sphere, Ryvil had reached the main exit. As he passed out of the threshold cloak and looked up, Project Minister Cybuls and two security aids were standing an arm’s length away, looking at him with surprise.
“What were you doing in there, and how did you get in?” the Minister questioned, balancing a tone of suspicion with the due respect that Ryvil’s position warranted. As the Director Designee of the Managed Collectivization strategy, Ryvil could become a very important Provenger if the current program failed, and this was not lost on the Minister.
“I was looking for you,” Ryvil snapped back. “Aren’t you supposed to be here for the arrival of all probes? And how was I able to just walk in here without any kind of security warning? What kind of a program are you managing here?” Ryvil accused.
Minister Cybuls was immediately defensive but still respectful. “Well, I
am
here, and I don’t know how you were able to walk in. I suppose the cloak shield must be malfunctioning. They are checked regularly and I don’t…”
“Well, check them again,” Ryvil interrupted. “We can’t have any Provenger just wandering anywhere they want. What if samples become contaminated?” Ryvil moved on before giving Cybuls time to think. “Now, I need you to reschedule the Planning Committee Vote later today. I need it about three rinsects earlier. That should give me enough time. My team needs to review both the incoming samples and produce a rebuttal to Synster’s plan within the day. There just won’t be time otherwise. There’s been more data than we thought. He already has the majority of his projections, and I doubt he’ll have any problem getting his vote. For my team, it’s just a matter of following the law. We need to get our rebuttal filed in time. Can you do that? Or will you be too busy double-checking your broken security systems?” Ryvil asked with a sarcasm that pushed the limits of his authority.
“Ryvil, I don’t appreciate your tone. You know very well I have the authority to alter meeting schedules, but I really should check with Synster first,” Cybuls replied, defending himself.
“Well, get it done then. We all know this project should never need Managed Collectivization, but if it does, I would hate to have to review the need for a new Project Minister.” Before Cybuls could respond, Ryvil excused himself and walked through them, terminating the encounter on his own terms.
Cybuls turned to watch him go, irritated that his authority had been questioned and concerned about his future should Ryvil ever become the Project Director. Would Ryvil question his abilities? Cybuls touched his collar, activating his com-monitor. “All 3-237 Perpetuant Cycle Project principals, Planning Committee meeting has been moved earlier by four rinsects.” Cybuls didn’t want to give Ryvil any reason to question his nerve or commitment. Synster would just have to be flexible.
His project
Synster stepped out of his shuttle and into his home. The cloak shield on the main threshold sputtered as he walked in. Then it blinked out momentarily, allowing everyone outside a view directly into his great-room. He grew annoyed. Vwannan had one of the best apartments on the ship, and yet strangers moving by could stare in at their family.
Vwannan was 115 years old and had taken many children from Synster. She had invited him into her dominion when she was only 33, and their relationship had gone well. The youngest two were currently living with them; the daughter, Nwella, 27, and the son Beyn, 7 years old. Provenger men were considered welcome at the home as long as they behaved. Vwannan had never cast Synster out.
“Yes, Beyn. It is. I came home to watch it with you. I can only stay a short time. Then I have to get back to work, so let’s get a snack and watch.”
“Yes, Synster. I’ll get you what I already made.”
Synster thought about this question for a moment. He wanted to give Beyn an answer that would be a credit to his intelligence, but didn’t want to get too involved in the details. Beyn was still a child and hadn’t yet been initiated into even second tier social realities.
“The most intelligent species on this planet,” Synster explained to Beyn, “what we call the Subject Species, have no way to make their own food. They spend much of their time moving from place to place catching or collecting everything they eat.”
“Why…yes, we do.” Synster continued. “But they don’t have cities or nation ships like we do. And to have them a species needs to be able to settle permanently in one place. They need to be able to establish an environment where things that they eat will grow, and grow enough for all of their members. So we are going to modify some of their plants, what we call the Candidate Species, so that they’ll grow them for food, in one place, rather than roaming around looking for it all the time. This way they can live in towns and cities. They will eventually grow smarter with their accumulated knowledge and be able to fully populate the planet with their kind.”
“Well the plants already grow on this planet, but they, the carnate, don’t really use them for food that much, only a little bit, every once in a while. So we’re going to change things so they have enough to eat it all the time,” Synster explained.
“Yes, Beyn?”
“Yes, Beyn?”
“Do what?” Synster felt trouble ahead.
“No.”
There it was, the question Synster was seeking to avoid. “Beyn, would you like some fruit? I promise you it’s not Groktar.”
Synster’s com-monitor vibrated, indicating a message. He accessed it with a touch to his shoulder. The meeting had been rescheduled to an earlier time. The scanners information would be back by then, but it would give him much less time to process the information collected.
“Yes, from here it will look exactly the same.”
Synster could still see in his wife the twenty-year-old he’d literally run into one day while in a rush to get to work. She’d been wearing her public gown and was coming down some stairs. He’d been facing away, trying to escape from an acquaintance who kept talking. He turned around quickly and took a step as she came down behind him. He planted his face right into her chest, between her bare breasts, in the exact manner of the marriage ceremony. They immediately laughed. Then both became embarrassed as they realized they were making a scene, and they went about their business. Every time after that when they made eye contact, they knew there were feelings between them. It took a considerable amount of time before Vwannan approached him and allowed him to identify himself.
“I have to go sooner than I thought,” Synster told her.
Synster excused himself to his office. Once inside he glanced out his window at the planet. He felt as if everything was going well, but now, with the meeting being moved up and the data from the scans flowing in, he wondered if anything else would change.
Synster made a mental note to find out why the meeting had been moved up. He suspected Ryvil had something to do with it. They were all working toward the same goal, yet Synster had never done anything for Ryvil, therefore Ryvil had no allegiance to him whatsoever. It was remarkable, really, how separate their careers had been, Synster thought.
