Skyquakers (23 page)

Captain showed what may have been a cynical smile.
‘
You
are annoying.
’

‘I hear that a lot.
’

‘So, if Engineer not send you, then you are breaking rules
here.
’

‘Yes.
’

‘You could be hurt for this.
’

‘I know.
’

‘You are not afraid?
’
he asked.

Psycho looked up into those sharp, blue eyes.
‘
I
was never afraid.
’
He walked across the room,
back towards the mantle. From its high ledge, he reached up and retrieved the
glass case of medals and awards.
‘
These all yours?
’

Captain said nothing.

‘Impressive. You must be a brilliant leader. I mean, you’re
basically in charge of the future of your entire species, right? I guess you
’
re
in charge of all the species now.
’

Captain spun back to the window and rested his head against
the cold glass.
‘
Go away.
’

Psycho put the medals back where they originally sat.
‘
We
need to talk.
’

‘You are a little spit, aren
’
t you?
’

‘The expression is
shit
, and I need you to become the
captain again.
’

He waved the boy off lazily and collapsed into a large
armchair, facing away from Psycho. Beside him he still held his crooked cane,
with his fingers coiled around the handle. He tapped them rhythmically, and by
watching his fingers, Psycho could see where the extra bones were, extra
knuckles and joints which human hands lacked. A pain came to Captain’s head,
and he pressed his fingers against his skull, pushing against the wrinkled
skin.

‘Engineer is captain now. Is fine, I’m sure,
’
he droned.

Psycho shook his head.
‘
Look at
you. You
’
re pathetic.
’

‘Get me doctor. I don
’
t feel
vell
.
’

‘It
’
s all in your head.
’
Psycho stepped into his view and saw the giant slumped there. He was a
mess, an embarrassment to the majesty of his kind.
‘
Get up, you
slob.
’

Those blue, sharp eyes looked as though they would pounce
onto the boy and devour him, if only he had the energy and the enthusiasm to
move.

‘
Vhy
are you here?
’

Psycho took in a breath and gently sighed, ‘Lo is on this
ship.
’

‘Who?
’

Psycho flinched.
‘
Who
? Lo!
Your
Lo! This is why you
’
re ill, isn
’
t
it? She didn
’
t transition with the rest of us.
’
He saw Captain was not listening. He was too lethargic, bored,
unstimulated. To get his attention, Psycho marched over to the glass case of
medals once again, took them in his hands, and then smashed them onto the
floor. The glass shattered. The medals flew apart and scattered amongst the
other messes.

Captain lurched upright and hobbled forward with his cane.
‘
Sgu
dert
!’
He raised a hand to slap him.

Psycho demanded,
‘
Are you or are you not Baba?
’

Just as the giant was about to swipe his hand across the
boy’s cheek, he froze. He halted, towering over him, and something in his eyes
changed. The muscles in his lanky arms loosened and his body seemed to shrink a
little as he relaxed. He staggered back with his cane.

‘
Vhat
did you call me?
’

Captain tore apart his wardrobe in a mad rush. He hastily
dressed himself in faded orange cloth, wrapping his body in a loose fabric
poncho and headscarf, covering everything but his eyes. He told the boy to be
quick and discrete; he did not want to attract attention.

Psycho aided the fragile elder through the darkened ship.
Captain directed him down lesser-known corridors, avoiding as many of his
crewmen as possible. A short ride down an elevator landed them in one of the
many biological warehouses, each the size of a football stadium and each
housing a hundred-thousand stacked pods in floor-to-ceiling shelves. Each oval
pod contained the shadow of a living creature, lying
comatosed
in a pond of brown slime, fed through the spine by a silicone tube: furry
things, feathered things, scaly things, hooved things… Captain was left in awe
by their alien appearance and sheer numbers. He had only seen this place when
it was empty, he explained. He looked rather beside himself by the enormity of
it all now that it was full.

They weaved through the aisles, dodging oncoming shadows of
Vet’s workers. Giants in white cloth, wearing face masks and surgical gloves,
routinely monitored the specimens and the life-support systems which were
keeping them alive. The consistent function of one machine was crucial: the
supercomputer. There was only one aboard the cloud, but its data occupied
almost an entire stadium-sized cavern of its own. Captain and Psycho alike knew
of its purpose, although the technology was beyond both their expertise: the
enormous digital screen displayed two lines of text, both rapidly rolling
across the screen in opposite directions. Although the lettering was foreign,
Psycho knew these two lines of script were the genetic codes of two species:
one from this planet and one from another. The computer found millions of
similarities and differences in genetic samples of hundreds of species a day;
it picked out fragments of DNA with extremely high compatibility, and it
estimated the viability of the hypothetical analogue which would spawn. From
these calculations, the process of creating a living hybrid specimen was
hideously fascinating: when the supercomputer found compatibility in the
genetic material of two species, DNA of one was cultivated with eggs of another
to form an embryonic mass no more than 100 cells in size. Healthy cell masses
were then implanted into female specimens, taken down from a pod amongst the
shelves. The animal would always remain asleep as it was artificially
impregnated with the alien eggs. If it died on the table during the operation,
the floor beneath it would immediately open up and swallow the specimen into a
pit of flames, reducing it to ashes. Successfully implanted animals contained
analogues growing inside of them. Instead of allowing the natural process to
take its sweet time, chemicals in the tubes made foetal growth rapid. Mothers
that were ready to burst were brought down to the operating tables and sliced
open across the lower abdomen by a laser. The mother
’
s carcass
dropped down into the inferno and the prodigy remained to be assessed. In the
initial attempts, not many offspring were found alive. They too disappeared
into the pit and the process was repeated again and again until something
living emerged.

At one such operating table, the two hid to observe Vet’s
scientists manipulating the sleeping carcass of what appeared to be a zebra on
a circular platform. Long, mechanical arms were working on the animal, using
tiny fingers armed with scalpels, needles, lasers and tweezers. But something
went wrong. A cut was made which resulted in excessive bleeding. A heart-rate
monitor indicated the animal was going into shock. The mechanical arms
retracted and a button was pushed which allowed the circular floor to open up
beneath the zebra and a blazing fire engulfed the animal instantly. There was a
burst of heat, a blinding light, and then the circular trap door sealed shut
once more and the warehouse returned to darkness. A clumsy mishap. The
scientists were unmoved by the loss and proceeded to try again with another.

Psycho was more determined than ever to keep the human race
from befalling the same impassive fate.

‘Quickly,’ muttered Captain. The feeling of urgency was
mutual.

In another passing section of the alien laboratory, there
was a woken creature on the circular platform, encaged within metal bars. The
beast was a feline, yellow and black stripes, two metres long; additionally it
had sprung ivory horns from its head and had piercing green eyes. It lounged
lazily in its cage, swinging its tail. When the analogue yawned, there was a
vibrant fluorescent ripple effect which briefly washed over its whole body,
like a surge of green static electricity. A work in progress, perhaps.

Up ahead was the human warehouse.

‘How do you know her?
’
Captain
asked as he hobbled along, using both his cane and Psycho’s shoulder to keep
himself upright.

‘We
’
re friends.
’

Giants didn
’
t understand this term, so he
had to correct himself and say,
‘
We connect.
’

‘
Vill
she connect with me?
’

‘She
’
ll be asleep.
’

The metal doors leading into the human laboratory were
plastered with yellow warning signs of biohazardous materials; for some reason
the giants believed natives, above all, were the most germ-ridden creatures on
the planet. The number of microbes they must have witnessed in a human’s gut
alone would have terrified them, and only very few crewmen, such as Vet and his
highest scientists, dared to go in here without a full Hazmat suit. It
explained why no giant would shake hands with Psycho, and why all of their
dirty plates, bed sheets and clothes were incinerated after their use.

Psycho knew the keypad code to enter, which he had memorised
from watching Vet’s fingers. Before proceeding, he offered Captain a facemask,
to protect him from airborne germs, but he pushed it away with a disgruntled,
Pesh
!,
claiming they
were all well beyond the threat of contamination.

Beyond the lifting doors, the human warehouse was at full
capacity and yet eerily quiet. A hundred aisles, ten rows, each with one
hundred pods stacked from floor to ceiling; every glass case contained a single
sleeping body, fed through a tube and living in a state of permanent limbo.
Unlike the others, this room lacked computers and analogous experiments taking
place. If Vet was telling the truth, they would never get to that stage; they
’
d
be thrown straight into the inferno, every last one of them, as per Engineer
’
s
orders.

They came to the circular operating platform in the centre
of the warehouse, where Psycho placed Captain down and let him catch his
breath. Captain gazed around him in awe as Psycho moved towards the digital
control bench. He had learnt to operate these systems from Vet and knew how to
bring down specimens from their slotted positions, control the mechanical
surgical arms, and even incinerate things, if he wanted to. Using a touch-pad
keyboard, Psycho initiated the system by first ‘dialling’ a specimen of his
choosing. He punched in
Lo’s
pod number. On his
monitor, very basic information appeared about this specimen, catalogued by the
scientists who studied them: male, female or genderless (if they could not work
it out), fertile, infertile, quad- or bipedal, and other taxonomic or
physiological markers which were too complex for him. Then there was a lever
beside the number pad. It was big and industrious, like the override switch of
a huge electric generator. It took two hands and some force, but Psycho was
able to push it from its idle position into
‘
lift
’
.
Nuclear machines whirred. A bright, purple light gushed out from a random spot
on the wall, high up in the warehouse. Psycho then pulled the lever back
towards him and flattened it into the
‘
drop
’
position. Beam-up, beam-down: a child could operate these devices.

A bright light shone up from the circular stage, blinding
Captain momentarily. The two watched in wonder as a pod appeared from glittery
dust and vapour, as if appearing from the pink and purple ether. The specimen
that materialised onto the stage was a girl, sleeping soundly in her cocoon.
Psycho turned everything off once the beams had fully rebuilt her. The nuclear
machines all powered down again and the warehouse fell into silence.

Captain, at first, did not know what he was looking at. His
head tilted to the side. He waddled forward with his crooked limp, but only a
few steps at first. The glass pod was obscured by fog and condensation, as the
specimen inside was endothermic. Captain looked at it curiously. With his
four-fingered hand, he swept aside a layer of grey mist. Underneath, he saw a
face.

It all came back very quickly.

‘Lo?
’
he whispered.

‘I know I’m meant to be loyal to Engineer and, hand to God,
I still am, but if you don
’
t step up and become the
commander of this ship again, every single native on this cloud is going
straight into the fire.
’

Captain was too lost in memories and emotions to have heard
any of that. He couldn
’
t stop staring down at the
little sleeping girl.

Psycho stepped closer. ‘Engineer is going to kill Lo! Do you
hear me?
’

‘
Vhy
?
’

‘He hates us
–
them.
’

Captain looked down at the boy.
‘
And you? Do
you hate them?
’

Psycho hesitated and chose his words carefully,
‘
I
’
m
doing this for Lo. She was meant to be here, with me, but something went wrong
in the process.
’

The giant looked down upon Lo with dread and sorrow in his
blue eyes, perhaps even tears.
‘
Can she hear me?
’

‘No.
’

‘
Vhat
can I do?
’

‘Become the captain again. Tell Engineer to step down and
—’

‘Engineer
vill
never step down,
’
he snarled.
‘
He
vant
to be in charge since the day
ve
leave. He
i
s just waiting for
me to die.
’

‘But you
’
re
the captain
!’

‘I am
veak
.’

‘I refuse to believe that. Those medals on your shelf –
you
earned those. You were given command
of this ship because you were the best man – giant – thing – for the job.
Engineer took your place when you fell ill, and now he’s using that power to
change everything you set out to do on this planet. You have to
take command back
, or else all of these
people are going to die, including Lo.’

Captain wobbled passed the boy and examined the digital
screens on the dashboard. He pushed a few keys and read what the screen
displayed.
‘De
Vet
scheduled cull for tomorrow.
’

‘Vet doesn
’
t want to cull them. He wants
you to save them. Save Lo! Please!’

Captain could see the desperation in the native boy’s eyes.
He looked down at the workbench to see that dreaded message in red, showing the
date this species was to be incinerated. He looked back to the pod where Lo
slept, unaware of her own fate. Finally, something appeared to click. He swung
back and hobbled towards the pod, brushing passed Psycho as though he wasn
’
t
even there. There was a sharp look in his eyes, determination.

‘What are you
—
?
’

Captain then raised his cane and
smashed
through the
glass cocoon with one swing.

‘Captain!
’

The pod shattered. Captain used his cane to tear through the
glass shards to make a hole large enough. He then reached in and with two lanky
arms he scooped up
Lo
’
s
sleeping body from the muddy water. He saw the tube in her neck and yanked it
out.

‘No, stop!
’
Psycho cried.

The sound of glass breaking echoed and caught the attention
of Vet
’
s scientists in the warehouse next door. They
appeared suddenly from around the corner, dressed in white surgical attire.
They halted at the shocking sight of their captain, not only up and walking,
but with an uncaged specimen in his arms. They shouted something about
contamination, and instantly darted to the side wall to hit the alarm. A moment
later, yellow lights were blazing and sirens boomed in their ears. From every
corner of the warehouse, rapid feet could be heard running their way.

‘Go!
’
Captain cried, and they ran.

The mechanical door leading into the human warehouse began
to lower, to seal off the contamination. Captain got to it first. He stood
underneath and arched his back over, making the vertebrae of his spine
interlock and form a thick, solid arc of bone from his shoulders to his hips.
The door crashed down onto his back, but that spine was like steel when arched.
It dented the metal and held the door up long enough for Psycho to slide
underneath. Captain and Lo followed after, leaving the barrier to seal shut
behind them.

They swerved through the ship. Biohazard alarms blazed from
every corridor. Giants in silver chemical suits and gas masks appeared, armed
with non-lethal glass guns. They fired pellets at them. Captain dragged Psycho
around a tight bend, ducking bullets as they ricocheted over their heads and
pierced the piping in the walls. The burst pipes filled the corridor with
high-pressure water and hot steam. The shooters lost sight of them in the mist
as they slipped away.