Adrian returned with Eimir, only to be whisked away by Reya for one of their walks alone. Rann exchanged a glance with Tassie. “Firepit?” she proposed. Tassie nodded and the women left Jyn, Beor and Eimir alone in the house. Rann plopped in one of the chairs and stared at the ashes left behind from last night’s fire. “What happens to Reya now?” she asked.
Tassie mulled over the question. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Things are going to change.”
Rann snorted. “Haven’t they already? I don’t like this reporter. Why’d the General agree to let Reya do that interview in the first place? She’s the General, for gods’ sake! She shouldn’t bend to the whims of some random nobody.”
“The public forced her hand,” Tassie sighed. “I can’t imagine Reya being in the spotlight is what the military wants at this point in time. Not when they’re going to such great lengths to keep anything relating to the mission a secret.”
“Half our fleet is gone!” Rann exclaimed. “It’s a miracle they’ve managed to keep a lid on it the way they have. Now that a new Silver Star has been named, people are going to put two and two together. How much longer will we be able to keep her safe from the world?”
“We won’t be able to,” Tassie said glumly. “Not from this.” She eyed the gun attached to Rann’s hip. “Our weapons are useless here. We were never going to be able to stay here forever. One day she’ll have to face this and the only thing we can do is support her when she needs us.”
“I hate that,” Rann said, frustrated. “She’s been through so much — her and Adrian alike. But the public doesn’t understand that.”
“Rann,” Tassie interrupted. “We don’t understand what she went through. Only Adrian does and by the gods how I wish neither of them did.” Tears welled in her eyes as she imagined Reya going through the same suffering Adrian had.
Rann’s expression softened. “She’s doing better now. I’m sure she’ll pull through whatever experience she had. This is Reya we’re talking about. The gods only know the strength that woman has. She survived being a test subject for a neurotoxin.”
“It’s,” Tassie started, searching for her words, “you don’t get it. The both of them will never be the same. I can’t even begin to fathom what it must have felt like.”
“It was painful. I get it. It’s something that—”
“No, you don’t,” Tassie interrupted forcefully. “None of you do and may it remain that way. No one, and I mean no one, should have to go through even a fraction of what happened.”
Rann remained silent, staring at her friend. A light breeze kissed her skin as it cooled down the gamut of emotions playing out on her friend’s face. “Every time this subject is brought up, you act like this. Just look at what happened the other day on the ship! All you did was watch a video, for god’s sake. Why?” she asked.
Tassie, for her part, looked deeply sad as she met Rann’s gaze. “The amount of suffering in that video is something I never thought possible. It’s only a video, yes. But I will never unhear those screams. That sound,” she shuddered involuntarily, “will forever haunt me. It’s classified for a reason and it’s something I try not to dwell on — and it didn’t even happen to me.”
“I see,” Rann said simply. She sat in contemplative silence, not saying anything for a long while. She ran her hand over her face. “Are there any chances of the public learning about what truly happened to either of them?”
“Information pertaining to what’s been uncovered at the facility is classified to the highest level. The only reason I got to see it was because they couldn’t afford not to have me continue my work. I was so adamant at the time on learning information I had no business even knowing about.” Tassie shook her head. “Some things are best kept secret.”
“You mean like what Kell’s discovered while researching Stanley? Don’t you think that with the samples he’s got he’d be able to confirm Adrian’s claims by now?”
“Be careful there, Rann,” Tassie warned. “He’s reporting directly to the Tribunal for his research. If he hasn’t told us anything, it means he’s not allowed to yet, maybe never.”
“It’s just frustrating,” Rann huffed. “I feel that given our involvement in the mission, they could at least allow us to learn whether we’re really safeguarding not one but two aliens!”
Tassie shrugged. “I’ve got enough on my plate. I don’t need to know more secrets. I’ve already got too many as is. I’m sure he’ll tell us when he’s allowed to.”
“I don’t like this,” Rann said. “There’s too many secrets floating around. It’s not healthy.”
Tassie flashed a ghost of a smile. “I’m of the same opinion, but there’s nothing we can do about it without disobeying the Tribunal.” Rann shuddered at the thought, trying not to dwell on the consequences that would come with disobeying direct orders straight from High Command. “I don’t know about you,” Tassie continued, “but I quite like not being locked in a cell for the rest of my days.”
Rann chuckled nervously. “Fair point. I just hope everything ends up alright and that Reya doesn’t get hurt beyond what she’s already been through. I’ll keep in touch with the General to see what our next actions should be once the interview has had some time to blow over.”
“That sounds like a plan. Just don’t go digging too deep,” Tassie warned. “You’re not ready for what you’ll find.”
His messy office reflected his frazzled thoughts. Papers were strewn about over his desk and multiple holoscreens floated around him full of different data pertaining to the multitude of ongoing experiments. Maraz was used to the frustration that came with being a researcher, but never had he been more stumped.
When Kell claimed not to understand the nanomachines in Stanley’s blood, Maraz thought he’d be able to figure it out relatively quickly. Never had he been more wrong. After several weeks of no progress, he was about ready to pull his hair out of his head. Nothing about what he saw made any sense. What had started as a challenge had become an obsession with a puzzle he couldn’t crack.
His failure grated on him.
Not only was he making no advancements with Stanley’s samples, he still hadn’t found a way to prove Adrian’s claims. He’d spoken bold promises in front of the other Elders at his ability to grow new life, yet he hadn’t delivered, despite working around the clock.
Between the emergency meetings pertaining to the discoveries made at the facility and his research, he was stretched thin. Given the sensitivity of the research he was performing on Stanley, he couldn’t entrust it to his assistants the way he could with the experiments to grow green plants.
Failure after failure had caused his researchers to grow pessimistic. They were the best of the best, yet after months of having success elude them, they were questioning the viability of the research they’d been assigned. More than once, Maraz had to quash their justified concerns about the source of the information their work was based on. With no tangible proof that Adrian’s knowledge proved correct, they were growing more and more displeased with him.
Now that he’d taken on the extra research, he rarely had the time to check in on their progress, asking instead only for the results of their work — which always disappointed him. Then again, it was to be expected, he supposed. They were attempting to create new life in a way that had never been seen before. The idea that plants could grow green was ludicrous to begin with, but that didn’t stop him from trying to make it a reality.
Adrian had graciously provided them with the knowledge they needed, the depth of which astounded Maraz. By all accounts, it should have been more than enough for them to succeed by now, but they hadn’t.
It vexed him that their progress was so little in spite of all the resources at their disposal, He turned his attention onto his newest puzzle — one that was proving just as difficult to crack as the plants. He looked once more at an image of one of the blood samples Kell had taken. The doctor’s assessment had been correct. Stanley was slowly dying. Maraz could see no other outcome to the way the machines behaved within the blood and other samples.
They were volatile, nasty little things. Stanley’s only saving grace was that there didn’t appear to be too many of them in his system, all things considered. He shuddered at the thought of there being more and silently thanked the gods that he hadn’t been infected with them.
He spent another hour reviewing the results he had when a call from his assistant interrupted him. With a sigh, he put aside his fruitless work and answered. “Lona,” he said, “this had better be important. I’m busy right now.”
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“Whatever you were doing doesn’t matter. Hurry up and come to the greenhouse. There’s something you need to see,” Lona chittered excitedly. Her exuberant demeanor struck Maraz. It wasn’t everyday he was interrupted for something good.
“What did you find?” he prompted. In no mood to play games, he wanted to know the answer immediately. He didn’t want to get his hopes up for no reason when everything they’d done thus far had ended poorly.
“Stop being such a stooge and come over here already!” Lona said.
The call ended before he could even reply. He shut down his terminal and locked it so that others couldn’t access it in his absence. He wasn’t worried, given the amount of security that came with accessing it, but one could never be too careful. With stiff legs, he stood up from his chair and stretched. He left his office and made his way through the restricted research facility until he arrived in front of the greenhouse. He unlocked the door and entered, coming face to face with an overly excited Lona.
“Sir, come quickly,” Lona said. She turned on her heel and took off deeper into the room. Maraz hurried after her as she brought them not towards the hopeful experiment he’d been waiting for results on but towards one of their earlier ones instead. It was the same one he’d been convinced to leave be, even though it had clearly been a failure and wouldn’t grow.
A tiny, single bud of green poked through the earth, drawing Maraz to a full stop.
“By the gods, we actually did it,” he breathed.
Cirrus settled into her seat and joined the emergency meeting that Maraz had called. I swear, everything’s an emergency these days, she thought. Can’t we go one week without anything happening? The holographic figures of every Elder on the Tribunal except for Maraz flickered into existence in the special room Cirrus had for their meetings.
Kaius looked around the desk before speaking. “Elder Maraz is the one that called this meeting, although I know not why he’s running late.” Dissatisfied murmurs broke out among the Elders until he quieted them. “I’m sure Maraz has an excellent reason for being absent to his own meeting. We shall give him some time to arrive before adjourning. It is rare that he calls a meeting.”
No sooner did Kaius finish speaking, Maraz’s figure winked into existence at the empty spot at the long, curved desk. “I apologize for my tardiness,” he said. The words came spilling out of him, so excited was he to make his announcement. “I was looking over some data before coming and it took longer than expected. I wanted to be sure that I had everything in order before starting.”
“Thank you for finally joining us,” Kaius said. “Please share with the us the reason for which you’ve called this meeting today.”
Maraz steeled himself for the onslaught that was about to occur. He picked up his data slate, working with it for several seconds before speaking. “We’ve succeeded,” he announced, his excitement palpable. “Earlier today, I was alerted that our experiments have borne fruit.” An image of a small, green sprout in a bed of earth appeared in the middle of the room, hovering for all to see. “We have grown a green plant and proven Adrian’s knowledge to be true.” He motioned towards the plant. “This is it.”
Stunned silence dominated, quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Not a single person spoke as they processed the revelation, reeling from the implications. All eyes were on the image that floated in the air before them.
“Adrian was telling the truth all along?” Orryn uttered, horrified. She hadn’t spoken very loudly, but in the aftermath of Maraz’s announcement her words rang loud and clear. “There are other people out there that look just like us?”
Cirrus went very still as her gaze never left the image. “This better not be a joke, Maraz,” she warned with a dangerous edge to her voice. “There’s no way you could have succeeded in such a short amount of time. Are you certain this is true?”
“I’ve spent the day personally studying it and seen it in person. It functions exactly the way Adrian described. The only reason we accomplished this so quickly was because of the remarkable depth of Adrian’s knowledge. Even I’m surprised at the result. It came from an experiment I didn’t believe would work. The very fact that it came out green at all is astounding.”
“I maintain that this still isn’t enough to prove that a civilization exists,” Cirrus exclaimed, “just that this kind of plant is possible! And even then, it had to be extensively manipulated genetically in order to grow green. How can such a thing be natural?”
“Enough, Cirrus,” Kaius barked. “The vote has already been cast and our decision on the matter was made months ago. Now that Maraz has proven Adrian’s claims, we have no choice but to accept them. Our doctor’s research into Stanley’s DNA solidifies it. They are a separate species from us. We’ve seen enough of them now to know that Adrian isn’t an isolated incident.”
“You’re all being entirely too hasty with such an enormous decision!” Cirrus reiterated like a broken record. “How is it even possible for a new species that resembles us so much to exist naturally? There must be something we’re not seeing.”
“We know of four living specimens,” Maraz countered, “not to mention the deformed bodies in the gru’ul facility.”
“The only specimens we have access to have all been experimented on by the gru’ul in some manner,” Cirrus said, exasperated. “You can’t trust results derived from studying them, they’ve been tainted.”
“Then how do you explain the other two researchers that experimented on Adrian and Stanley?” Maraz threw back at her. He was tiring of her constant denial of Adrian’s claims. He reasoned that by now they had more than enough proof to validate them.
“They could be other experiments as well,” Cirrus pushed.
Maraz levelled her a flat look. “The chances of that are—”
“Still higher than Adrian’s claims being true!” Cirrus interrupted. She cast a wild glance around the room. “If we accept his claims then he officially becomes untouchable. For all time! We’ll never be able to find out anything about what the gru’ul truly did to him apart from isolated research logs.”
“We already agreed not to experiment on him,” Orryn reminded everyone. “Whether or not he gains diplomatic immunity makes no difference at this point. He already has it.”
“But it does!” Cirrus exclaimed. “Now that we’ve discovered a new species, we’re obligated to announce it to the world at large. We’re still not ready for that. We risk leaking to our enemies our mission. It’s not something we can afford. Where we might have been able to barter for samples from him in the future, now we won’t be able to. He’ll have legal recourse against us if we try to push the issue.”
“I think it’s fine if we don’t try to get more samples from him,” Orryn replied. “He’s a person, not a lab rat. By the gods he’s suffered enough during his time as one. How could you even suggest running more tests on the man?”
“He’s a walking biohazard!” Cirrus slammed her fist on the desk. “According to both him and Stanley, his blood is highly lethal. It’s even killing Stanley as we speak. What happens if somebody else comes into contact with it? Will they die? Will whatever’s in his system spread? We need to know these things before we let him loose in the world.”
“He’s been with a team in closed quarters for months now with no adverse affects,” Maraz pointed out.
“That we know of. When was the last time any of them were given a check-up by their doctor or had their blood studied for any inconsistencies?” Cirrus threw back.
Maraz tapped a finger on the desk in thought. “Not that I’m aware of,” he said. “You’re right in that it would be prudent to do so, given what’s been discovered in Stanley’s blood. I doubt there’s anything wrong with them, but it’s better to play it safe. I’ll inform their doctor to send us the results so that I may study them.”
Cirrus gave a weary sigh. “At least you’re being reasonable about something.”
“It’s clear to me that we have no choice but to accept Adrian’s claims,” Orryn said. “When should we tell him?”
“You want to tell him?” Cirrus said, aghast. “That removes any bargaining power we have left over him!”
“If word comes out in the future that we already accepted his claims but still treated him the same, we’re in deep shit,” Orryn said flatly. “You know how important first contact protocols are. Already, we’ll be under scrutiny when we announce it to the world at large.”
Cirrus buried her face in her palms. “You can’t seriously expect us to divulge his existence to the world right away! That would announce details about our mission. Soon we’ll have other factions knocking at our door for information.”
“If they get too greedy we shoot them down,” Orryn proposed. There was a collective pause as the room regarded her for her suggestion. “I’m not against defending our interests,” she snorted. “It’s a last resort, but if push comes to shove, what are they going to do? Even at half capacity, we still have the superior army.”
“They could form an alliance to get their hands on the gru’ul technology,” Cirrus said darkly. “Individually they’re weaker than us, but right now our focus is split. If they team up even we will have a hard time defending against them. We’d be forced to abandon the facility in favour of defending Verilia.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Maraz interrupted. “We’ve made incredible advancements in the short time we’ve had to replicate their technology. We’ve managed to mostly reverse engineer their ship’s weapon systems and we’re close to doing the same with their ship’s engines. What we’ve learned so far is going to revolutionize our society. If we can retrofit our ships with that tech, the other factions won’t stand a chance.”
“That still takes time we don’t have,” Cirrus threw back. “If they come at us in five years, maybe we’ll be fine. If they come at us tomorrow, we’re fucked. We can’t afford to leak Adrian’s existence yet.”
“Cirrus raises an excellent point,” Kaius said. “How long can we realistically wait before we have no choice but to reveal him?” A discussion broke out amongst the Elders as they argued their points, trying to determine how much longer they had.
“A couple of months, maybe a year at most,” Maraz finally said for everyone. “Eventually the tech we’ve discovered is going to make its way back into society and then there’s going to be quite a few questions we’ll have to answer for. I don’t even know how we’d tell the world. They’re in no way ready for the secrets we’ve learned. There’s still so much we don’t know.”
“Can we at least wait before telling Adrian about accepting his claims while we figure out what to do?” Cirrus asked wearily. “I think it’s only reasonable. This is going to affect all of us. If we’re wrong about this, we’re going to look like fools.”
“We’re not wrong,” Maraz staunchly defended. “We have enough evidence now. The fact that both Adrian and Stanley can independently discuss their country’s culture in nearly the same manner without having spoken to each other speaks volumes.”
“For all we know the whole thing is made up,” Cirrus said.
“With that level of detail? Doubtful,” Maraz said.
“We shall vote as to whether or not we inform Adrian about our acceptance of his claims,” Kaius said. “All in favour of withholding our decision from him for now, vote.” Four orbs appeared above the heads of Cirrus and the other Elders. Only Maraz and Orryn were in favour of telling Adrian and thus had no light appear above their heads. “The motion has passed,” Kaius announced. “Until we judge the time to be right, we shall not inform him of our decision. However, this does not change the fact that we must enact first contact protocols, as decided in our previous vote on the matter.” He paused. “Adrian Blackwood is officially the first ambassador of his kind.”
