The Glorious Becoming (55 page)

Hands against her temples, Esther shivered with every exhalation. Moving her fingers over her comm, they trembled over the queue button. The frequency was already turned to Scott’s. Contact was supposed to be for emergencies only.

A nauseous feeling swelled in her stomach. She swallowed again. “Control,” she whispered emphatically to herself. “Regain control.” Gaze settling on the door, she gathered herself before rising to a stand.

“Miss Lee?” Giro called from outside. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yes!” she stammered, swallowing hard, then repeating the word confidently. “Yes, I’m all right. I just suddenly felt flushed.” Walking to the sink, she wet a paper towel then dabbed her forehead. Looking at her reflection, her brown eyes narrowed to a glare. “You want to play, you little gray scag? We can play.” Standing erect, she straightened her outfit. Turning, she went back for the door.

Giro was standing several feet away from the door, his spectacled gaze deep with concern. She sighed apologetically. “I’m so sorry. I’ve never felt quite like that before.”

He touched her arm compassionately. “I should apologize—I forget that an Ithini connection is new for some people. Most people who come through here have experienced connections before.”

“I’m ready,” she said, smiling as best she could. Nodding in reply, Giro turned to lead her to Confinement.

As she walked away, Esther slowly looked back at Ju`bajai. The Ithini was already looking at her. Nothing was said—nothing needed to be. The game between them, whatever it was, was afoot. Only when she was out of Ju`bajai’s earshot did she address Giro. “So that was an Ithini?”

“Yes. Ju`bajai is what is known as an IB. That means she was an Ithini captured with the Bakma. There are Ithini with both the Ceratopians
and
the Bakma, you see,” explained Giro. “The ones with the Ceratopians, we call them ICs.”

“What’s the difference between the two?” she asked innocuously.

“Mostly cooperation. IBs are more eager to assist, whereas ICs remain somewhat distant. It is easier to work with an IB. ICs are not always so trustworthy.”

Something clicked with Esther in that last statement—intuition. She looked back down the hall whence they’d come.

Giro continued, oblivious to her distraction. “It is rare to catch a female of any species. The Bakma we have captured are all male, as are all previous IBs. For whatever reason, Ju`bajai’s reproductive organs have been removed. This may have something to do with why she was allowed to be an exception.” His coy smile indicated he knew more than he was letting on. “She was picked up at a Coneship crash site in South America. When it was discovered that she was indeed a female IB, she was immediately sent here. Her level of intelligence is remarkable. We hope that by gaining her trust we will be able to learn more about her origins, and the origins of the Khu—” He bit his lip. “Of the Bakma.” Swallowing discreetly, he went on. “We believe giving her a working role will pay dividends in future interrogations. We are careful not to push her.”

“Sometimes a little push is all it takes,” said Esther under her breath.

“What was that?”

Her focus returned to him. “I said you don’t want to push her beyond what she can take.”

“Yes, absolutely. We must be careful with all valuable specimens. Ju`bajai does stay in a cell, much like the other guests here, though she is allowed to leave during regular working hours. A task gives her something else to think about, and another way to look at us beyond simply as her captors.” Reaching another security door, Giro once again placed his eye against a wall-mounted scanner. There was a satisfactory beep, and the door slid open.

It was a laboratory—one infinitely larger than the Confinement area at
Novosibirsk
. Scientists were clustered in every direction, a constant murmur hovering over the room. Everything was pure, pristine, white. The tiles were so glossy they reflected like mirrors. The temperature was easily ten degrees cooler; a clean, disinfected smell hovered in the air. Esther was struck by a moment of genuineness. “My goodness...”

“Welcome to Confinement, Miss Lee.” Pride beamed on the director’s face. As the door sealed shut behind them, he pointed to various doors along every wall. “Each species has its own wing, along with several other specialized wings. The Ithini are through the first door on the left, with the Bakma immediately following. First door in the back belongs to Ceratopians, followed by two wings for different specimens. The canrassi and necrilid pens are on the right.”

“How many aliens do you have here?”

“As of today, five hundred ninety six.”

She was awestruck.

Giro led her through the center of the room. “We try to keep as many sub-species as possible. All species come in multiple varieties. We humans tend to lump each of them in a single category, which is not correct.” He indicated toward the animal pen doors on the left. “Canrassis come in many varieties beyond simply fur color. From teeth, to scent glands, to body definition and size. Though there is only a single general structure to a canrassi, much like housecats, there are dozens of varieties.

“Many people do not realize that necrilids come in sub-species, as well. Some have intelligence comparable to dogs. Though it has not been reported on the battlefield often, we have found that several necrilid specimens learned how to mimic simple sounds. They are remarkably adept.”

Memories of Chernobyl flashed through her mind. “Mimic sounds, you said?”

“Yes, it is quite impressive.” He slid his hands into his pockets and eyed her, fighting off an incredibly wide grin. “Have you ever seen a necrilid?”

“No,” she lied. “I’ve never been near one.”

Chuckling quietly, he motioned for her to follow. “Come with me.”

She resisted immediately. “I’d rather not. I mean it.”

“No, no, I insist.” He reached for her hand to pull her along. “It is not what you think.” Looking to one of the scientists, Giro said, “Bring out one of the patrol units.”

Esther didn’t need to feign fear; hers was real. Her heart pounding, she found herself slowly trying to back away from Giro, but his hand held her wrist firmly. “Please, I’d really rather not,” she said. “I don’t need to—”

“It will be okay.” His warm smile never faded. “Do I look afraid?”

“But we’re talking about necrilids, here!”

He nodded. “That’s right. We are talking about necrilids.”

Eyes transfixed on the door to the necrilid pen, Esther held her breath as she waited for it to open. Every danger sense in her body was going off. When it finally did open, her whole body flinched.

There it was.

Its flattened head surveyed the room, golden eyes gleaming in their dark sockets. Its claws spread on the floor, it pivoted to examine several nearby scientists.

It wasn’t attacking. It wasn’t preying. It was looking around like a dog. Rising on its hind legs—a posture that brought it to a height greater than hers, it sniffed the air, then toppled back down to all fours.

Kneeling down, Giro snapped his fingers at the creature. “Who do we have today?”

“Tiburon,” said the scientist behind it.

“Ahh, good, good,” said Giro. Snapping his fingers again, he caught the necrilid’s attention. “Come here, Tibby.”

Lowering its head, the necrilid trotted to Giro in the center of the room. Halfway toward Giro, the creature’s eyes locked onto Esther. It altered its course straight for her.

“Oh my God,” she said, lurching back violently.

The necrilid’s posture shifted. It bore its fangs; a ravenous snarl escaped. It started to run toward her.

Giro grabbed hold of Esther, holding her in place. “It’s okay! It’s okay! Don’t show fear, don’t be afraid. It’s not going to hurt you.”

“Oh my God,” she whispered emphatically. “Oh my God!”

“They can sense people,” said Giro. “They are much like a dog. It is a defense mechanism.” He held an open palm to the approaching animal. “It’s okay, Tiburon. She’s okay.” He whispered to Esther, “Hold out your hand, let him sniff you.”

Her heart was beating through her chest. “This is all a dream.”

“Hold out your hand.”

Very slowly, she did as she was told.

Tiburon’s fangs remained bared until it apprehensively leaned toward her fingers. Dipping its head forward, its nostrils caressed her digits as it sniffed.

“He is learning you,” said Giro. “He is learning that you are not a threat. He will remember you after this.” As the necrilid sniffed on, the scientist’s smile widened. “Miss Lee, meet Tiburon. He is one of our pets.”

Pets. One of their pets. It was like hearing that the sky was green. But finally, as it became apparent that the creature was indeed subservient, Esther’s heart rate decreased. For the first time, her senses kicked in. She had never seen a necrilid this close before. She could smell its musky odor. She could look at its every detail. She was transfixed.

“Necrilids have skin somewhat like a shark’s, except more pliable and less coarse. In fact, necrilids most resemble a sort of shark-gecko hybrid. Despite what soldiers call them, they are not like
bugs
at all.”

Its nostrils relenting, Tiburon looked up at Esther and tilted its head.

“All necrilids have a somewhat flat head, as you can see.” The scientist tapped on the animal’s skull, producing several loud knocking sounds. The creature leaned away, but seemed otherwise unfazed. “While their heads tend to be somewhat elongated from side-to-side, Tiburon’s elongation is particularly pronounced—almost like a bonnethead shark, if you are familiar.”

She wasn’t.

“Necrilids also have active electroreceptors. They can generate an electric field and sense any distortions that enter it. Though not as powerful as a shark’s, it is far more sensitive than any land mammal on Earth. Most animals with this ability on our planet are aquatic.” He smiled. “In fact, this ability was discovered when several necrilids were released in a water pen. We believe that, at some point, we may even be able to create a necrilid deterrent system by using electropositive metals in standard combat armor.” Sighing, he slid his hands in his pockets. “Unfortunately, it may be for naught, as they can also shut off their receptors. They are quite complicated creatures. They have redundant predatory systems.”

Though Esther heard his words, she was barely listening. She was fully captivated by the necrilid sitting docilely before her.

“Shake,” said Giro. The necrilid raised one of its claws. The director took it. Lifting the palm upward, he revealed dozens of tiny suckers beneath its fingers. “This is how they climb so quickly.”

Laughing disbelievingly, Esther ran a hand through her hair. “Un-bloody-believable.”

“Now you see why every Xenobiologist wants to work here,” he said, smirking.

“And he just wanders around without a leash? Without a restraining device?”

Nodding, Giro answered, “Necrilids do not respond well to restraints. They are not like dogs in that way. They require a certain measure of freedom.”

“How long did it take to make him like this?”

“Only several months. Necrilids have incredible metabolisms—they breed and grow very quickly. It only takes a few generations to erase any preprogrammed tendencies.” He scratched the animal’s head. “Tiburon, like all of our patrol units, is very familiar with humans. He may still get nervous around new visitors, as he did with you, but he will not attack outright as necrilids do in the battlefield. We have bred that aggression out of them. Actually, we have approached EDEN Command about launching a necrilid companion program, to see if they could be utilized in the field, but...they are hesitant to try that, as I’m sure you can understand.”

She was taking in every detail on the beast. The tight texture of its skin, the yellow color of its edge-mounted, forward-facing eyes. The deep, purr-like rumble it made while at rest. Its streamlined, almost emaciated body structure, the likely result of its aforementioned metabolism. The next question was inevitable. “What do you feed it?”

For the first time during their conversation, Giro frowned. “It is probably better if you do not know.”

“No, tell me. I want to know.”

He hesitated. “Overcrowding is a problem at many animal shelters—”

“Nope!” she cut him off sharply. “Never mind! I don’t want to know!” She shook her mind clear. “Snakes and weasels. He eats snakes and weasels.”

“Erm.” Giro’s mouth twisted uncomfortably. “Yes. That is right. He eats snakes and weasels.”

Pressing her hand to her forehead, she turned away. “Okay. I don’t want to see this thing anymore. I can’t deal with this thing.”

Giro nodded and called for the animal’s removal.

“Snakes and weasels,” she whispered repetitively. As soon as the necrilid was gone, she looked sternly at Giro. “Please, Mister Holmes. This is all very fascinating, but in a span of ten minutes, I’ve been both mentally violated and completely disturbed. Would it be possible to see Ceratopian Confinement now?”

The director was all apology. “Yes—I am so sorry. I am not used to visitors like you. Everyone here is a scientist, they work with these specimens every day. But you have never seen these things before. I am so excited to show them to someone for the first time!” He settled down. “But yes, you are not here for that. Let’s go see the Ceratopian wing.”

“Thank you. I didn’t mean to sound rude.”

“No, no, it is my fault. It is just that you are...it is so...” He bit back his words. “Never mind. Come, let us continue.”

Nodding appreciatively, she followed his lead.

As Esther walked with Giro down the hallway of the Ceratopian wing, it came to light just how massive Confinement was in
Cairo
. It must have been as large as the barracks at
Novosibirsk
. Massive corridors, undoubtedly designed for Ceratopian transportation, branched in every direction. Spacious laboratories were set about at several intersecting hubs. Sets of Ceratopian armor and weapons were laid about on various tables, right there in the open.

“We learn from them constantly—from all of our specimens. We wish to win this war, of course, but we also wish to understand.”