Bits of Catalyst, page 9
“Because nobody would believe that a relatively inexperienced sculptress would open a gallery on a ship where she’s the only Huktra. It’s also possible that I’m keeping a low profile since the success of my premiere festival.”
“I heard about that,” Belle said. “Everybody says that Myort made a killing.”
“Myort could fall down a mineshaft and he would land on a forgotten sack of gold nuggets,” Kyor said. “He’s been coming out ahead for so long that it’s just natural for him. I’m not sure he could lose if he tried.”
“But why here?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing.”
“That’s easy,” the Gem said. “I was invited to participate in Flower’s clubby intelligence community, but the members of the humanoid species were so uncomfortable eating with a clone that it made them unpleasant company. Life is too short to spend it with companions who edge away when they think you aren’t looking.”
“So you’re still in the game, you just moved to the Little Leagues.”
“Your alliterations are excellent for somebody who’s never been to Earth—or have you?” Belle asked, her eyes narrowing.
“I can’t say,” Kyor replied, an ambiguous formulation popular with alien intelligence agents who had the foresight to converse in Humanese. She scraped the foam off the mug of beer she’d drawn while they were talking and placed it in front of the clone. “On the house.”
“I don’t like beer.”
“That’s because you haven’t eaten any peanuts.”
“I don’t like peanuts unless they’re made into butter.”
“They’re chocolate covered,” the Huktra said, producing a silver dish with a flourish.
“You’ve been expecting me,” Belle said, taking one of the chocolate globs from the dish. She chewed for a moment, swallowed, and took a swig of the beer. “You might be onto something here.”
“I was thinking that we might pool our resources.”
“In the chocolate-covered peanut business?”
“In the what’s-the-Miklat’s-real-mission business,” Kyor replied.
“I’ve been on board since the beginning and I haven’t noticed anything particularly suspicious,” Belle said. “We visit the smaller sovereign human communities for shorter stops than Flower makes at larger communities, so it feels like we spend half of our time in Stryx tunnels.”
“What about all of the shipping containers the Miklat picks up that never get dropped off?”
“So you already have a source on board,” Belle complimented the Huktra. “Our loadmaster complains about the containers. According to Delphi, it’s a dynamic warehousing scheme that Flower dreamed up for storage in transit.”
“That sounds like a worse cover story than my beer stand,” Kyor said, taking a sip of her product and making a face. “The alcohol content in this stuff is so low that it won’t burn. I don’t understand how anybody can drink it.”
“They claim to like the taste,” Belle said. “What’s Myort’s theory about the Miklat?”
“That it’s too neat.” The Huktra struck a pose with a clawed hand shielding her eyes from imaginary starlight. “Oh, look,” she said. “A Wanderer vessel in distress. Let’s alert Flower, the only jump-capable ship nominally under Human control, to rescue the passengers. Of course,” she continued, her voice returning to normal, “the funny thing about abandoning a ship in space is that the rescuer gets the salvage rights. I wonder what Flower, who is already undermanned and over-scheduled, would do with an obsolete colony ship?”
“Load it up with enough modern tech to start the rehabilitation process and gift the ship to the Zarents. Myort thinks it was a Stryx setup?”
“Everything is a Stryx setup, it’s only the blatancy that’s in question.” The Huktra let out a belch but it failed to ignite. “So, what do you say about working together?”
Belle hesitated. “You know that my first loyalty is to the New Gem Empire, and I’ve committed to the group on Flower to pass along anything about Human involvement in the broader galaxy in exchange for their doing the same.”
“Any information that pertains primarily to humanity can fall outside our deal, but Myort thinks that Flower and the Zarents are playing their own game.”
“The Zarents aren’t the scheming types. Have you spoken to any of them?”
“They’re as bad as the Alts,” Kyor said in disgust. “Altruists. Hold that thought. Paying customer alert.”
“Good evening, Kyor,” Hercules said as he bellied up to the improvised bar. “Belle. I didn’t know you cared for beer.”
“I’m in it for the chocolate-covered peanuts,” the clone said. “Are you going to introduce us to your friend?”
“Nigel,” Hercules said to the young man who was staring openly at the reptilian bartender. “This is Belle, a friend from our final months on Bits, and Kyor, who I just met last week.”
“You’re a dragon variant,” Nigel blurted out. “I’ve never met one of your kind in the flesh. Would you mind if I compared you to a work of art?”
“Are you about to start spouting poetry?” Kyor asked in alarm. “I don’t go in for any kinky cross-species stuff.”
The young xenoarchaeologist shook his head as he pulled the artifact from the satchel Dewey had left him and placed the statue on the counter. “The likeness is amazing.”
“Have you been drinking at somebody else’s beer stand?” the Huktra demanded. “That alien looks nothing like me, and even a blind Verlock could tell you that it’s male.”
“It is?” Without the slightest sign of self-consciousness, Nigel hoisted the statue and peered between the powerful haunches. “I don’t see any dangly bits.”
“They retract for streamlining in dragon variant species unless you’re talking about mating flights. What are you doing with the statue? Is it some sort of idol that you worship?”
“It’s tens of millions of years old,” Nigel told her. “A stolen artifact from the Galactic Heritage site we’re visiting. I was on my way to the shuttle to return it to the surface when I ran into Hercules and he told me about you. Do you mind if I get a picture of you with the statue?”
“I only pose for pictures with paying customers,” Kyor said pointedly.
Hercules checked the shuttle’s status on his smartphone and said, “We have time for a couple of quick beers.”
“That will be one cred.”
“Each?”
“Together.”
“You cut your beer price after you stopped selling skewers?” Hercules asked.
“I’m experimenting with dynamic pricing,” Kyor said, winking in Belle’s direction.
Nigel continued alternating his gaze between the artifact and Kyor as the Huktra pulled two drafts. Then he nodded in agreement with himself. “The statue is too damaged for a definitive opinion, but I’m sure I see a species resemblance.”
“I see it too,” Belle said. “There’s something about the flight muscles and the base of the tail that reminds me of Myort.”
“Are you coming to the surface?” Hercules asked the clone.
“I visit the surface at every stop. It’s part of my job as a journalist for Gem Today. I heard that we now have a xenoarchaeologist on board, and I was hoping you would give me an interview,” she added in Nigel’s direction.
“Drink,” Kyor ordered, noticing that Nigel hadn’t even picked up his mug. “It will help you answer her questions honestly.”
“In vino veritas,” the young man muttered, but he didn’t protest. “If you could just stand a little to the left, I’ll turn the artifact to hide the broken wing and capture an image with my implant.”
The Huktra complied, Nigel composed the scene, and then he stared for a moment. “Got it.”
“That’s strictly for your personal use,” Kyor told him. “If you want to publish, I get royalties.”
“Why don’t you come to the surface with us?” Belle asked her. “If it’s not interesting, you could shake your wings out and get a little flying in.”
“Rayne told me we aren’t expecting many visitors because the Stryx recently awarded the cafeteria contracts for all of the humans working on Galactic Historical site digs to a new division of Drazen Foods,” Hercules added. “That means they won’t be visiting for our food court, so you won’t be missing any customers for your beer.”
“I didn’t realize we could eat any Drazen foods,” Nigel said with a frown. “Are you sure there hasn’t been some mistake?”
“Drazen Foods is the biggest alien employer on Earth,” Hercules told him with a laugh. “Maybe the biggest employer of any ownership, if you count all the farmers who supply them. They started as an exporter of human food items that suit alien tastes, but they’ve expanded into off-world catering for contract workers.”
“I’ll have to visit one of the cafeterias,” Belle said. “It could make an interesting article for Gem Today, especially if they serve a decent selection of chocolate.”
Kyor allowed herself to be argued into leaving her beer stand unattended, and accompanied the others to the docking deck, where the shuttle was just getting ready for departure. The Huktra required two seats with the backs laid flat, and Nigel glued himself to her side to pester her with dragon questions. Belle accompanied Hercules to a row about midway down the aisle where Rayne and Sarah were waiting.
“I thought you stood us up,” Rayne said, sniffing suspiciously as Hercules took the seat next to her. “Have you been drinking?”
“Just a beer, so Nigel could get a picture with Kyor,” he said. “Belle can back me up.”
“Do you disapprove of your mate’s alcohol consumption?” the clone asked Rayne. “Unlike some of the new workers from Earth, I’ve never seen any signs of drunkenness on his part.”
“It’s something women reflexively ask if they think their man has been having fun without them, plus it’s an odd time of day,” Rayne said. “Where have you been seeing drunk humans?”
“I run for exercise on the park deck and I’ve been propositioned twice in the last week. A man would have to be pretty drunk to take me for Human.”
“They probably don’t care. But I warned Mouser to make sure our new police force starts with a light hand. Alcohol sales are important to high-end restaurants and sports bars. It’s not like the Miklat is overflowing with recreational opportunities.”
“Do the Gem know anything about the Ucerins?” Sarah piped up from the porthole seat. “We had Fourth Educator Miklat substitute again this week, and he taught us all about Stryx historical preserves.”
“I’m surprised the Zarents have knowledge of the species that lived on this planet,” Belle said. “I thought the Ucerins went extinct tens of millions of years ago.”
Sarah shook her head vigorously. “Fourth Educator Miklat said that the Ucerins disappeared and that it’s not the same thing as going extinct. He said that the Stryx can hide entire star systems. Plenty of the elder species who last long enough developed the technology to either leave the galaxy or take measures to be left alone.”
“I never understood why anybody would willingly leave the galaxy,” Rayne said. “Even if they have the ability to travel intergalactic space, wouldn’t it all be the same?”
“Fourth Educator Miklat says that for species who adapt or are engineered to live entirely in artificial structures, there are advantages to moving as far as possible away from stars.”
“And the Zarents believe that the Ucerins are one such species?” Belle followed up.
“He didn’t say that. He was just giving examples of ways a species can disappear without going extinct. Then he used a big word I forgot for what happens if everybody from one civilization just sort of blends in with another—”
“Assimilation,” Rayne interjected.
“—and he said on really long time scales, sometimes whole civilizations lose track of where they came from, and eventually everybody assumes they’re a new species.”
“It would have to be a long timeline indeed, but yes, I could see that happening over tens of millions of years,” Belle said, looking intrigued. “Especially if their environment changes and natural selection does its job. It will be interesting to hear what Nigel learned from the Verlocks on the topic.”
As it turned out, Nigel had more to say about vanished species than any of his listeners had the patience to hear. He led the group from the Miklat through an informal museum on the surface set up to display particularly interesting finds. Even Sarah was beginning to yawn when the site’s lead xenoarchaeologist showed up out of breath in response to the message that somebody was returning a stolen artifact.
“That’s him,” the site director said when Nigel brought the statue out of the bag. “We think he was stolen from the museum right around the time a large group of contract workers finished their term and returned to Earth.”
“Did anybody notice the theft?” Hercules asked.
“The statue was replaced with a Horten holographic projector, so we only noticed when a child ignored the warning sign not to touch the exhibits and put his finger right through it.”
“But its wing was broken off,” Sarah said. “How special can it be?”
“This statue is the only piece of representational art we have for the Ucerins. It seems incredible, given all the other artifacts we’ve recovered, but the theory is that the Ucerins intentionally cleaned up after themselves before leaving the planet.”
“See,” Sarah told the Gem. “Fourth Educator Miklat was right.”
“Does anybody know what became of them?” Belle asked.
“Your companion might have a better answer than I,” the site director said, staring openly at Kyor. “I don’t want to be one of those people who say that all dragon variants look alike, but we did a holographic reconstruction of the statue based on wear data from other stone artifacts, and I have to say that a family resemblance, in the taxonomic sense, is there.”
“Have you restricted access to this so-called holographic reconstruction?” Kyor asked with a barely suppressed snarl.
“If you’ll follow me to the gift shop, I’ll make you a copy.”
“How can a temporary museum on a dead world with practically no tourist traffic have a gift shop?” Nigel asked in frustration. “It’s this sort of thing that gives humans in the field a bad name.”
“I’ve visited multiple Verlock museums and they all had gift shops,” the woman replied. “Our replica printer is a Verlock product that was custom designed for museum applications.”
“It looks like you put it to good use,” Hercules said, taking from the shelf one of the dozens of plastic copies of the artifact. “Hey, this does look quite a bit like you, Kyor.”
“After we lost access to the original, we began using the holographic reconstruction as the basis for the replicas, and sales increased by three hundred percent,” the site director said, sounding a wee bit guilty.
The Huktra grabbed one of the replicas and examined it closely. “You must have unconsciously used an archetype of my species for the models,” she said. “I studied the progression series of our evolution in art school and this reconstruction looks more like we do today than we did a million years ago.”
“Fourth Educator Miklat told us that species which adapt to perfectly fit their ecological niche often start bouncing back and forth through their recent evolutionary history,” Sarah said. “He told us it’s a successful strategy for retaining genetic flexibility.”
“That makes sense to me,” Belle said. “As clones of the same individual, if the Gem had ever encountered a pathogen or environment that was deadly to one of us, it would have wiped out our race. Cycling through the latter stages of their genetic history could help advanced species stay prepared to deal with the unexpected.”
“If you’re taking the replica with you, that will be three creds,” the site director told Kyor.
After they paid and left the prefabricated building, Belle asked the Huktra, “How much do you want to bet the next version of their replica looks just like you?”
“But it makes no sense,” Kyor protested at a volume that barely escaped characterization as a bellow. “My species evolved on Huktra Prime, though we were forced to abandon the planet when it became geologically unstable.”
“So you lost access to your fossil record?”
“Yes, but that was well after we developed space travel. I’m sure our scientists would have noticed if we were a lost colony of some ancient civilization rather than…”
“Rather than what?” the clone asked.
“Now that I think about it, the evolutionary progressions I studied in art school all began with forms that were recognizably Huktra. I don’t recall anything earlier like you see with Humans starting as fish.”
“We were fish?” Sarah asked her mother.
“Not that I’m aware of,” Rayne replied. “Fish aren’t mammals.”
“Dolphins are mammals.”
“Dolphins aren’t fish.”
Nigel caught up with his fugitive tour group, panting a bit from the run. “Sorry. I got distracted talking to the site director. I’ll have to remember to put my personal priorities on hold when I’m leading tours for real.”
“Did she say anything else about my alleged similarity to their artifact?” Kyor asked.
“I’m not sure you’ll want to hear it,” he mumbled.
“Try me.”
“She said it would go a long way toward explaining why the Ucerins did such a good job cleaning up the planet before vanishing. It might not have been the first time for them.”
“How about the fossil record?” Hercules asked. “At a stretch, I can see an advanced species collecting all of the representational art from buildings and gardens, but if they peeled the whole crust off the planet to hide their evolutionary history, there wouldn’t be anything here for the dig to uncover.”
