Authors: Mark G Brewer
"Should be?"
"Well, you know kids, they can turn up
anywhere, we should be fine."
As she entered the control room with her
coffee she could once again see the spectacular starscape that had captured her
only weeks ago, a view that was comforting and awe inspiring at the same time.
"Why does it look familiar to me?"
she asked "I thought we were in different space?"
"We are in a different place, many
light years from where we were. But the galaxy is so big, even from this
perspective it looks similar."
"Do we have to move now or can we talk
for a bit with a view?" She sipped her coffee lovingly.
"We can talk; we're turning slightly
and will catch a wave again in about twenty minutes."
"Great. I've wanted to ask you about
Marin's people and the other humanoid species you mentioned. You said there
were six and that just astounds me. Do they originate from Earth, maybe from
some great Diaspora before a disaster or something, or did we come from them?
Or, did we, as we are so convinced, evolve on earth."
"Damn!"
"What's up?"
"I had a bet that you would naturally
assume everything started from Earth. It's a humanoid thing, very common. But
at least you suggested that humans might have originated somewhere else."
"Well - did they?"
"Who knows? Even Marin's people don't
know whether they evolved where they are or originated somewhere else. Regan,
consider this, how old do you think the earth is?"
"I'm not sure. I think it's something
like four or five billion years."
"Bear with me a moment, humanoids have
this tendency to blurt out numbers while suspending belief about how big they
are. If you say them quickly you lose all sense of scale sometimes. Say it for
me in millions will you please?"
"Aaah, let's see, four thousand five
hundred million years. What's your point?"
"I won't ask you to say that number
slowly but sometimes it really does help. Ok, when do your scientists think the
conditions might have become right to sustain life?"
"I'm guessing it took a long time?"
"Ooooh yes! About one thousand million
years."
"So there's been life there for three
thousand five hundred million years?"
"Well, I wasn't around then of course,
but even your own scientists say yes so we'll go with that. Now, what about
when complex life forms appeared, in particular humans as we know you?"
"Well - obviously humans appeared much
later; Ham, what are you getting at?"
"Would it surprise you to know that
humans, according to the fossil records, appeared only around two hundred
thousand, not million, two hundred thousand years ago?"
"Again, your point is?" said
Regan, getting frustrated.
"My point is Regan, humans have only
been around according to you for two hundred thousand years of the three
thousand five hundred
million
years the Earth has sustained life! So we're
only talking a very, very small fraction of that total time span. And on top of
that your recorded history in that enormous time period is only around six
thousand years. Yet humans, and from my experience humanoids generally, have
this amazing ability to talk in absolutes. They'll say, it
was
like
this, we've been here
this
long, and we descended from
this
. You're
so definite about everything and yet you've only been around a few thousand
years in the scheme of things. How do you know that in the other three thousand
three hundred million years there haven't already been several phases of human
development that were mostly wiped out, or they left, or came in several different
migrations that didn't make it, or . . ."
"I get the picture." Regan
interrupted Ham's flow.
"Well, you see my point." He wasn't
finished. "The size of this galaxy alone is beyond comprehension, the
numbers too long to speak out loud and our Galaxy is only one of numerous,
possibly infinite galaxies, which is also way too much for a tiny mind to
comprehend. Three thousand three hundred million years is really a very small
number and yet it is way beyond your comprehension when the events of a single
lifetime seem so full. All I can tell you with confidence is that when our
entire known history, yours and Marin's, amounts to less than . . . well it's
so little; then it's ridiculous to suggest that everything about your
development or origins is known."
"I get it. So even Marin's people don't
know theirs?"
"Correct. . . . we'll be underway
again soon, do you want to watch?"
Regan cocked her head. "Seriously? I
think I'll go and finish with Marin but before I go I did want to ask, where is
it that we're going?"
"We're going to a star system you know
as Gliese 667. It's a triple star system in the constellation of Scorpio . . .
mean anything to you?"
"I'm not an astronomer."
"So that's a no then?"
Regan smiled. "It's good to have you
back Ham. I'll leave you to your work."
Regan made her way down to the Medlab still
chewing over the things Ham had talked about. The discussion about origins hadn't
thrown her too much. She prided herself on an open mind; in fact it was
important to her. Coming up with new ideas means thinking outside the box and
the last thing she wanted was to become locked up in her thinking. Considering
this she stopped for a moment outside the door.
Shit,
she
thought,
I'm now a living backup hard drive and a walking wireless router, all
powered by a solar panel in my head. This is a good one for 'what I did on my
holidays'.
Entering the Medlab Regan quickly got down
to her routine. With every passing day she'd become more concerned about Marin's
condition. It was almost a month since the accident and he seemed to be wasting
away in front of her. This, despite the drip which Ham assured her carried all
the nutrients he required. Over the last two weeks she had daily massaged his
legs, arms, back, neck and shoulders, anywhere she felt he would need to keep
movement. Raising each leg in turn she would lean her weight against the knee
bending it up against his body, trying to stretch the hamstrings. She'd rotate
the ankles and stretch the calves to simulate something like leg work.
Having no real experience she'd also
searched the ship data for anything on dealing with patients in a coma. It had
been some help. Today however, she found her mind drifting with so many things
from her discussion with Ham rolling through her mind. Regan slipped easily into
auto pilot, beginning with Marin's shoulders and neck. The silky slick oil was
wonderful to use and she gently worked her hands into muscle and sinew
stroking, massaging, working.
She often talked to him as she worked,
hoping that Marin might hear and understand. She told him about her life and
the challenges of the last few years though Ham was far from encouraging about
her doing so. He thought it was strange and would point out regularly that
there were no changes in Marin’s brain activity, or his pulse rate was
unchanged or he would simply rib her that she was talking to herself. Ham was
too practical for Regan by far so she continued talking while she worked
regardless.
Having completed his upper body, Regan as
usual moved to his feet, spending time manipulating his toes, the movement of
the ankle joints and massaging each sole. Then one by one she took a leg, bent
it at the knee and leant her weight there, stretching the hamstrings and
gluteus, before returning them to the bed and massaging his quadriceps. Without
realizing it she took more time in the process, distracted by her thoughts.
Eventually there were only the adductors on the inner thigh to finish.
Beginning with the left leg she stroked upward from the knee to the groin then
back again.
Suddenly she stopped, "Ham?"
"That's . . . interesting . . ."
he replied
"Do your readings tell you anything?"
she asked, fully alert now. Her eyes were fixed on Marin's groin, he was
clearly semi erect.
"Apart from
that
there's
nothing I can see from the readings."
As she stood there frozen, with her hands
raised as if under arrest, she could see the partial erection was quickly
subsiding. "What do I do?" she asked.
"Keep doing whatever you were doing."
Ham encouraged.
"I was working his adductors."
She moved to the right leg and continued the same process as before, more
gently this time. As she stroked upward toward his groin she could see there
was no doubt, he was becoming aroused.
"Anything?" she asked again.
". . . Nothing . . ."
She kept massaging gently, both hands now,
sliding them smoothly up his thighs, he was clearly growing more and more
prominent. "Oh shit," she whispered, "this doesn't seem right."
"Regan, this might bring him out of
it."
"Well it'll take him somewhere that's
for sure!" She paused for a moment unable to stop herself looking at the
now almost fully erect member. A joke came to mind about men shaving there to
give them that 'extra visual inch'.
Well he certainly doesn't need an extra
inch
she thought and laughed nervously. She drew a deep breath.
Without further hesitation she took the
tube of oil and holding it above him dribbled a stream down the length of him.
With both hands she began a gentle up and down stroke, soon becoming totally
engaged, her eyes fixed on him as she worked, looking occasionally up to his
face and examining him in detail. It didn't take long. Without any obvious warning
and accompanied by the first sounds she had heard from Marin since the Pod, he
erupted.
"Jesus!" She gasped. "Tell
me you got something please!"
"There's still nothing." Ham
replied sadly. "Sorry Regan, it was worth a try. There was a peak of
activity then it fell away."
She felt utterly deflated. It had been
uncomfortable, desperate, and yes, to her embarrassment, erotic . . . for nothing?
Without a word Regan gathered cloths and warm water and began the cleanup. To
her surprise as she worked her hand over him he again began to harden. Regan
paused, still holding him, amazed.
"Regan," Ham groaned, "He's
awake."
"What?" She looked at Marin's
face, still holding his erection in her hand. There were no signs she could
see, nothing different from any other day. "Are you sure?" she asked.
"No question," Ham replied. "He's
faking it. He may have come around earlier and I missed it." If a computer
could manage a sigh, that was what she heard from Ham, he actually managed to
convey deep disgust in a sound.
Regan let go of Marin and pulled her hand
back so quickly the erection slapped back down on to his stomach with a loud
smack.
"Bastard!" She spat it out, stepping
back and glaring at the man.
"Regan," Ham said, despair in his
voice, "That's Marin and get used to it, it's as deep as he gets."
Without opening his eyes, the body spoke,
weak but clear. "I . . . heard . . . that, you metal marble!"
"Welcome back to us your baldness, an
explosive entrance as usual, verrry classy!"
"You're full of hot air." Marin
opened his eyes and stared at Regan.
"That can easily be remedied!"
Ham countered.
Regan could understand every word and realized
with a start she'd been talking Dahlian since early that morning. Marin must
have heard everything, at least from some point.
Marin glared at her. "What . . . is .
. . the woman doing here? This is madness! You know this breaks every mission
protocol. You've killed us both!"
"Oh please, you talk to me about
protocol! If the woman hadn't been here one of us would already be dead. She
saved your life!" Ham didn't give any ground.
Marin tried to sit up, and then collapsed
back to the bed, fingering the tube in his nose. "I don't remember
anything," he groaned. "I was on the mountain . . . then nothing."
Should I speak, Regan thought, but before
she could Ham quickly continued.
"You were caught in a landslip Marin, it
was just unlucky. Something, probably a rock, hit you hard on the head . . .
Marin, you've been unconscious for three periods."
Regan looked confused and put up her hand. "Sorry
to interrupt, but what is a period?"
[It's about ten earth days Regan] [There's
a problem with Marin] [I can't sub-vocalize to him.]
[Is it damage?]
[There must be.]
Marin groaned again. "I don't really
want to know this but I have to ask. HOW CAN SHE SPEAK OUR LANGUAGE?" It
was a weak attempt at a yell but he managed to say it with some gravitas nonetheless.
"Marin, we'll talk about this later.
Regan, stay if you like but it would be best if you go and clean up. I need to
talk to Marin and I can do that while I remove the tubes. It can get messy. I'll
call you when he is ready to move."