The Mendel Experiment (8 page)

At first moonrise, they were trotting across the hot sand toward the distant hill. As they traveled, Corree felt the soles of her feet harden. Soon she wasn’t feeling the sharp gravel. Her eyes were no longer affected by the dust. An extra lens covered her eyes, but still allowed her to see. This time she took the lead.

The first moon set and the second moon was directly overhead. There were no shadows to confuse them. They drew close to the hill of the desert settlement. Corree was puzzled by a soft glow and wondered how this group could have gotten the same kind of power she had seen in the teaching pod.

She felt ill at ease. Without thinking, Corree reached up and scratched behind one ear, something she always did when she sensed something wasn’t right. Except now there was no ear and her hair was short, thick fuzz. Each change seemed to come quicker as well as easier. That brought no comfort.

To her surprise, Corree could see the hill was not natural. Around it were smaller mounds near the large one. They weren’t natural, either. It was more like pods of varying sizes had been half buried in the sandy soil. Her skin prickled and her mind screamed an alarm.

As she reached out to stop Riss, the smaller mounds seemed to erupt. Towering figures burst from yellow-white openings. Tall and gaunt, Corree recognized them immediately. “Ologrians!” she shouted, grabbing Riss’s arm, spinning him around. He snarled a curse, hesitated a split second before following her. They ran back toward the mountains but got no more than a half dozen steps before something seemed to make all her muscles go limp. She fell without being able to put her hands out to break her fall. Her shoulder banged painfully against a rock, and her cheek scraped on the rough sand.

As she lay there fuming, Corree heard the low click clack she knew from her pod training was their language. She tried to call out to Riss, but couldn’t get her tongue to work. Without a great deal of hope, Corree attempted to contact Riss with her mind. Even as she did, her lungs yammered for air. She stopped trying to communicate and concentrated on her breathing. It was useless. Her muscles, her lungs; everything except her mind was asleep. Was she going to die? If she was, why struggle? Corree felt the darkness thicken and then she was aware of nothing.

****

A wizened old man sat quietly in his servo-chair. The only part of him that seemed alive was his eyes. They glowed bright with triumph. Tiny servo-bots hovered like flies around the old man’s body. They checked his breath, heartbeat, making sure he continued living. The light in his eyes finally reached his lips. They thinned and drew into a smile. Deep in his chest, gurgling laughter formed and pushed up his throat. It bubbled from his mouth and continued until he was gasping for air. The little bots squeaked in alarm, buzzing toward the life support devices. The old man slowly regained his breath but continued chuckling softly.

“What is it, Dr. Windemere?” one of his human aides asked, his voice anxious.

There were three of them standing behind their leader. The “aides” were scientists of incredible standing, geniuses in their own right, but they were like children next to him. If they didn’t believe it, Windemere was only too happy to point it out to them. These were the three, who along with Dr. Windemere, had created the hundreds of children sent down to Mendel. Now they gazed blankly at one another. Only Windemere knew everything that was going on.

One of them turned back to the data screens. “Doctor!” he cried out in alarm. “They’ve been captured by Ologrians!”

“Yes,” Windemere hissed. He paused to breathe. “They will take them to the Ologrian mother ship.” Before any of the scientists could say anything, he continued. “Where the dormant virus within the girl will awaken.” Another breath, but one more dramatic than necessary. “And spread a killing plague that will destroy every Ologrian on board.” He began chuckling again. “If we are lucky, one or two will escape to the home world and begin killing them all. If they don’t, the home world will eventually be curious enough to send someone to check out their derelict ship. The virus will still be viable and ready to infect anyone who goes on board.”

All three scientists looked ill at ease, but no one was surprised.

“A whole race,” the youngest scientist said under his breath.

“Eh, what was that?” Windemere snapped, touching the controls that whirled his chair around to face the speaker. The blotched face appeared stormy.

“I was reflecting on what a stroke of genius that was.”

Windemere turned back to the panel of readouts with a satisfied grunt. It was obvious he didn’t believe the underling, but he was satisfied at the fear he still wielded. “Do not ever forget how much the Federation has put into this project. Into all of it!” he thundered. “This is not just about one planet.” Once again his eyes studied the readouts and again he smiled in triumph. “It’s about much more than one planet.”

Chapter Eight

Corree woke up to pain stabbing deep inside her body, pulsing with each beat of her heart. She remembered what had happened and jerked around, expecting to see Ologrians. There was no one. She was unrestrained, lying on the floor of a small cubicle about twice her height long and half that wide. There was nothing on which to sit, no water or food, not that she was interested in anything to eat. Her stomach lurched, and she swallowed in an attempt to put it under control.

Pain shot through her legs, and she groaned out loud. Corree felt twinges in her fingers. They had lengthened, but with them there was only the stretching soreness like before. The pain in her lower limbs continued, echoing stabs going up and down her spine. After what seemed an eternity, it subsided into a dull ache that centered in her knees.

As the pain decreased, Corree found herself drifting into sleep. What else was there to do in this place? Troubling thoughts kept snatching her from full sleep. What if she woke more like an Ologrian than a human? What if she woke up wanting the taste of blood? She had changed before, but always into some variety of human mutation. While the outward appearance was different, her thoughts had not changed. She was still Corree. Would that happen when she turned all the way into an Ologrian? If she could just find a door. Then what? She felt groggy. So tired.
I want to go home.
But she couldn’t; she could only sleep….

****

Corree woke the second time, feeling tendrils of discomfort swirling in her head and across various parts of her body. It wasn’t sharp like before, and she was thankful for that. As before, Riss was not with her. Corree tried to stand and found it impossible at first. She was stiff and her legs were still sore, but the main problem was that she had an extra joint in each leg. It was like she had two knees and it was hard to get them to work together. One knee bent the way she was used to, while the other one hinged in the other direction. Holding on to the wall, Corree finally managed to pull herself up. Then there was the trick of remaining on her feet. She fell twice before she was able to walk more than one step.

After mastering that, Corree was anxious to examine the rest of her changed body. She held out her hands. There was no pelt, no smooth sea skin. It was more like the dry, scaly skin of the tree snakes. Her skin flaps were gone. The taller frame allowed her to reach up and touch the ceiling of her prison. Her fingers were now long and very slender. They also had an extra joint.

The light in the room seemed to have a rosy tint, Corree noticed as she continued the examination. Her weapon’s belt had been taken away. A soft, but durable cloth covering had been wrapped around her torso. A plain woven belt kept it from falling off. She finished her examination and realized her mutation to Ologrian was complete. How long had it taken? She was thirsty, but thankfully, she had no desire to drink anyone’s blood.

Carefully, Corree stepped off the perimeter of the room. It didn’t take that long, even as clumsy as she was. The hair on the back of her neck rose. She felt as though she was being watched, but there were no windows or peep holes where anyone could observe her. When she turned back from her exploration, she was surprised to see a tall container in the opposite corner of the room. How had they put that in there without opening a door? She studied the corner and walls behind the cylinder. There was nothing to show how the jug got there.

She examined the container and saw that it held some kind of liquid. There was no smell to tell her what it might be. She shook the container. It was the consistency of tree sap. Setting it down, Corree squatted in the corner and pondered. All the while her body clamored for her to take it and gulp down its contents. It was maddening. Finally, Corree decided it didn’t make any difference if she died of thirst or of poison. She drank the liquid slowly, not only trying to savor each swallow, but to see if it would do anything adverse to her body. It felt wonderful as it slid down her throat.

After finishing the contents of the jug, Corree practiced walking. She quickly got the hang of the rolling gait and paced around and around the confining room. When her mutated joints and muscles protested, Corree lay down and was soon asleep.

Another jug was waiting when she woke up. It held the same kind of nourishment. This time she didn’t hesitate. She picked it up and drank. Corree also noticed the ceiling was taller now. How did they do that?

Without warning a bright light shone on one wall. She saw an Ologrian drinking out of a container like hers. Clacking, garbled sounds accompanied the pictures. Every time she heard the words, the Ologrian took another drink. After several repetitions, Corree repeated the sounds and took a drink. The Ologrian faced her, much as the holo-man had done in the teaching pod and gave her a thin-lipped smile. They were teaching her their language!

Corree smiled back and said, “Thank you for the drink.” The picture didn’t move, but she heard a different string of sounds. Could that be their way of saying thank you? If so, that meant they knew her language. Why didn’t they just talk to her? And why didn’t one of them show himself? She wondered about Riss. Where was he? Was he all right?

The lessons continued. She was shown pictures of different objects and their accompanying word/sounds. The lessons seemed to go on forever, but Corree had no idea of actual time. When she had learned enough words, the unseen instructor began putting them together into sentences. It was at this point that the training became more intense. One day she found herself conversing rather effortlessly with her projected instructor. He began asking her questions. At first they were innocent enough; questions about her life on Mendel. They asked her what she ate, what she and her group did during their days, what the forest was like. After a while, the questions were about the Federation.

That was when Corree refused to say anymore. Despite the fact she felt she had been used, it was the Federation that had made them. She remembered the old one of her dream. What had he said to her? “
Remember you are human.”
She was human, despite her outward appearance. The Federation would help them as soon as they knew she and Riss had been kidnapped.

“I want to talk to someone real,” she snapped at the insistent holo-Ologrian. The Ologrian disappeared. It was silent inside the cubicle. She was left with her thoughts. Food and sleep came twice and still she was left alone.

She was surprised, then, to see a tall figure staring at her through a window. As soon as the Ologrian knew she was aware of him, he began to speak to her in his language. “Are you able to understand me?”

Corree could only nod, her surprise was so great.

“I am Greelon.” He added something she didn’t figure out until later in the conversation. When she did, Corree felt her insides twist around. Greelon was a scientist. He was an Ologrian scientist. What would
they
do to her? And when they were done, would they eat her? Corree tried to keep her features calm as he continued to talk to her.

“Why did you come all the way from the mountains to our base?” He had to repeat himself several times before she understood the question.

Corree ignored it. “Where is Riss?”

Greelon’s deep-set eyes looked puzzled for a slight moment. “Riss? Do you mean the one who was with you?”

“Yes.”

“He is in another room. We had to…him so he would not hurt himself.”

He must have seen the alarmed look on her face, because he reworded his statement. “He became angry and beat on the walls during the lessons. We had to give him something to…sleep. We had to do the same when he changed, to help him during his mutation. He had a great deal more pain than you did.” That was a statement, so Corree didn’t bother to say anything.

Corree felt a small bit of relief. Greelon cocked his head slightly, as though trying to figure out something he didn’t understand. She felt bad for Riss, but at least he was still alive. The Ologrian repeated his previous question.

“We wanted to visit others… We knew, well, we thought there were others in the desert, but you were—here instead.” Corree stopped abruptly, wondering if she should even be talking to Greelon. He was the enemy, after all. She should have done what the Federation wanted, but she couldn’t. To not know about the others; all those others she had grown up with.

Now she was a prisoner of Ologrians and Ologrians ate humans! She shuddered and pressed her eyes together to stop the sudden desire to cry. Corree realized there were no tears to leak from her eyes. Ologrians didn’t cry?

Corree forced her emotions down. She had to think logically. Greelon had not hurt her. At least not yet. She was locked in a small room, but… But what? How long would she be kept here? Corree wanted to move. In the forest she could climb, glide, and travel incredible distances in any direction she or the group decided to go. She was free. Or she had felt free until the trip to the pod. Here? She had been given food and water; that was it. “How long are you going to keep me in this tiny box?”

Again Greelon cocked his head and considered. “We cannot let you out until we know it is safe for us.”

“You’re bigger than I am. There are more of you.” Then in a small voice, before she could stop herself, Corree murmured, “I want to go back to my forest.” She clamped her thin lips shut before she said anything else.

“You are still very young, barely the age of learning,” Greelon answered, his voice subdued. Corree didn’t totally understand the last part of his statement, but his tone seemed different—sad? “You could have human…that could hurt us.”

What in the world was he talking about? Her confusion must have shown because he continued.

“Tiny things in your body that could make us sick.”

Corree still wasn’t sure she quite understood, but felt he wasn’t making anything up. She remembered the map in the pod. It had shown another group in the desert. What had happened to them? Were there other human prisoners here besides her and Riss? Could they have been eaten? “What happened to the others?”

Now Greelon looked confused. “Others? There was only you and your companion.”

“But there was another group there. A desert family. That’s who we were going to see.”

“There were no others. We saw no evidence that there ever had been others.”

That couldn’t be, she thought. Everything else was right that the holo-man had shown them. Her thoughts whirled around in her head, each one faster and more confusing than the other. She noticed Greelon had stopped talking to her. He was watching and only began to speak when she turned her attention back to him.

“I noticed how quickly you changed, while this…Riss, was much slower in his mutation.”

Corree noticed Greelon didn’t ask why she changed. He must have figured that one out already. She just shrugged, or made a close approximation.

Without saying anything else, Greelon left. Corree lay back down. The conversation had left her feeling tired and depressed. Eventually, she fell asleep.

****

Pounding in her head woke Corree up. The headache made her queasy and she sat up slowly. The queasiness rose into something Corree could not ignore. It was more than just the protests of an empty stomach. Gulping in air, she wondered if Greelon had put something in her food. Why would he do that, though? Were they experimenting on her? Maybe trying to kill her? But if they wanted to do that, they could just use their weapons, like they did on that colony.

The only other time she had felt something like this was right after they had landed on Mendel. Their stores in the pod had run out and they were forced to find food from the forest. Most of what they had tried was fine, but when they were very hungry, she would try other things she wasn’t sure about. Some of the things seemed right to eat and turned out to be good for them. The few things she had been doubtful about had made her stomach and head ache. One or two made her feel horrible. Like now, except this was worse. Corree heaved, and what little she had eaten the day before came up. Regardless, she continued being sick until her sides ached. For a long time she couldn’t stop.

“We made sure what we gave you was safe for you to eat,” Greelon said.

She hadn’t noticed he was there.

“Physiologically speaking you have changed into an Ologrian.” Greelon’s pinched features were emotionless.

“So, what’s doing this?” she gasped.

“Perhaps one of our organisms infected you before you entirely changed. That shouldn’t be so; we tried to keep you in as sterile an environment as possible, but there was contact.”

“Sterile?” she asked even as her inside roiled again.

“That means there is nothing to hurt you—germs—tiny organisms.”

If Corree hadn’t been so miserable, she’d have laughed at the irony of what he was saying. Four gray walls, gray ceiling, gray floor. It was sterile all right.

“It will not take long to develop vaccines to guard you from any of our bacteria….”

When his voice trailed off and he didn’t say anything else, Corree looked up. Greelon had vanished and the window was gone. She didn’t know how long she sat huddled in a corner, nursing her misery. Her stomach was still rebellious, but there was nothing left. She was left gasping at every bout. Her ribs ached. She almost missed the quick pain in her hip.

“Sit still,” Greelon commanded her from the other side of the window.