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Mundania Press, LLC
Category:
Science Fiction
Type: Fiction
Nyla, a genetically engineered humanoid on Phantos IV, has discovered a new life form. The born humans who run the planet know that this will ruin the colony. They must keep this under wraps at any cost, including sending Nyla back to Old Earth to be recycled as an organ donor. Nyla has no rights under colony law but will not back down. Nyla sill not allow lives, her own and that of the new life form, to be sacrificed for greed and corruption. She cannot win, but has to try.
Excerpt
A sharp rap at the door summoned Nyla to her hearing before the Council of Phantos IV.
“It’s time,” the gruff voice called.
Relief that the waiting was over commingled with dread of facing what could be tantamount to a sentence of death, or worse. Nyla stood, straightened her electric-blue coveralls and cinched her belt a notch tighter. She ran her fingers through her thick, glossy auburn hair and tossed it back over her shoulders.
On the table by the door lay the forbidden lump of titanium ore, bright silver against the metallic cobalt of the table. If they searched her, she knew she’d be in more trouble than before. Titanium was at a premium and the new colony needed every ounce. Shrugging, she picked it up and slipped it into her pocket. How many times can they kill me? She shook her head. Too many. They could always send her back to Old Earth, to be harvested as a universal organ donor.
She rubbed her hand against the warm stone, feeling it briefly, but reassuringly, wrap around her thumb. She smiled, walking to the window one last time. This had been her room since her manifestation, the only home she knew.
Even to her heightened vision, only shapes were visible through the thick rust-colored plexiglass. The ever-present, rose-hued sand of Phantos IV blasted the Dome incessantly, embedding itself into everything.
Nyla set her face in a frown. She’d always been fond of frowning, knowing it was the only way her genetically engineered, perfect features could be distorted. It was a small thing, but it made her seem more like a born human.
It’s time. The disembodied voice sounded within her head. The duty g-e communicator. Could they get any more personal? Nyla squared her shoulders, opened the door and stepped into the empty corridor. Clinical white walls, interrupted by evenly spaced metallic doors, and tomblike silence greeted her. No guards? Am I that insignificant, or is it that they feel I’m beneath contempt? Nyla traversed the short corridor to Dome Central.
In front of the door she halted and shuddered with sudden anxiety, almost fear. She inhaled deeply, letting her fingers trace lightly over the pattern of goose bumps mottling her skin. She liked it, another human-like distortion of her flesh.
Nyla laid her hands on the door, fingertips barely touching, imbibing the emotions of those within. Her telepathy was strong, even for a g-e. Within seconds, her hands dropped. Mixed emotions. Well, I can handle that. Byron would tell me I was being unfair, using those special gifts I’ve been given against those who created me. She flushed with anger. Why not? I was given them for a reason, wasn’t I?
Nyla absorbed the roiling emotions. Most turbulent were those of the born-humans. Their agitation, like the ever-present sand, penetrated everywhere. She sent back reassuring waves of comfort to assuage the hostility. True fright rippled through her when the emotional distress didn’t abate. Fear settled like molten rock in the depths of her stomach.
That the born-human contingent were upset was understandable, but g-e’s had their problems, too. Nyla considered the born-human perspective. If I were born-human, I’d probably share their opinion. They’ve sold or hocked all they had to get here, and still the colony’s heavily mortgaged with InterGalactic Mining Co. If they lose the titanium, they lose everything.
Everyone had a lot to lose, the humans their freedom until their debt was paid and the g-e’s their lives. Reaching into her pocket again, Nyla stroked the smooth piece of ore. It warmed to her touch, sinuously winding itself around her fingers.
Enough! Nyla squared her shoulders and stepped through the door, entering the cavernous room. She stopped, blinking in surprise. Massive, gray sound-proofed dividers, generally reserved for the separation of various activities, had been pulled into action, cordoning off a chamber for her hearing. Judging from the size of the crowd, the entire colony was gathered, humans and humanoids alike. Nyla suspected only the duty teams were missing. She didn’t blame them. If another g-e were on trial, she’d be here.
There was no precedent on Phantos IV for punitive action, but she couldn’t shake the presentiment of doom. The colony hadn’t existed long enough to establish its own judicial system, but her contract of manifestation stated clearly that if she was found wanting, she would be returned to Earth.
Hostile eyes blazed hatred as Nyla stepped through the space between the metal rails which acted to separate the humans, g-e’s and the court. She stopped beside to the lone chair facing the raised dais, which consisted of nothing more than supply pallets and a metal plate used for construction. The dais was arranged with a single chair on one side, obviously meant for the witness, a single chair set on the floor beside the dais and a long table to on the other side, with seven chairs. A small table sat alone, behind and centered a step above the others. The larger table must be for the Council. Wonder what they’ll be, jury? Officious! Just like Byron to place himself over the rest of us. Before settling herself, Nyla sent her psi senses over the crowd. Not all were antagonistic, which accounted for the mixed emotions she’d sensed in the corridor. Molly sat directly behind her chair, radiating reassurance. It could probably be sensed by anyone. Molly was surrounded by their circle of friends. Nyla felt a rush of gratitude. Molly’s been my best friend all my life. She nodded at Molly before taking her seat.
With a half-smile, she realized the spectators were naturally divided. The g-e’s took supportive positions behind her, while born-humans huddled on the other side.
Have the two groups always been so suspicious of each other? What a sham it would make of my relationship with Byron. The corners of her mouth quirked in bitter amusement as she glanced at the newly constructed dais. Just like Byron to be so pretentious, although I didn’t always realize that.
As if in response, a door in the partition opened. Seven of the eight Council Members filed into the ersatz courtroom and seated themselves on the dais. I was right, they are the jury! She noticed the juror on the end staring at her with hostility. Dr. Chan has always resented me. With people like him on the jury panel, I hardly need waste my time with a trial. She glanced at the group as a whole. Council’s all born-human. Wonder why I never realized that before? Nyla suppressed a shiver.
Everyone stared at the door, waiting. Wonder how long he’ll take? Byron Gerhardt loves a theatrical entrance. A heartbeat later he entered, garbed in somber black, a floor length cape swaying as he walked. He looked distinguished in ebony. The color set off the highlights in his shining, prematurely silver hair. She wondered where he’d managed to procure a cape. One of the few personal items each born-human had been allowed? Look at him, parading in front of the crowd like a peacock!
Byron ignored everyone. Directing his gaze above their heads, he strode majestically to the small table and chair. This chair was his personal property, and Nyla remembered his boasting. It belonged to his grandmother and he’d bribed numerous minor officials to have it included on the ship’s manifest. It was from Earth’s Victorian era, carved ornately from teak wood, higher and more impressive than the surrounding prefab chairs. Nodding to Council, he seated himself, grimacing as his chair leg grated against the dais. That wasn’t supposed to happen! If this sham of a trial continues, I’ll bet there will be muting caps on those legs tomorrow morning.
Nyla watched as the court recorder entered and moved to the lone chair beside the dais. So that’s what it’s there for. Marcus, a g-e, had been bred by IGC to experience no emotions. His sole duty on Phantos consisted of attending official meetings, impassively recording events and passing this information on to the IGC. Shortly after his manifestation, he’d partnered with Molly. He’d responded to Molly’s urgings, and, unbeknown to the born-humans, Marcus now experienced emotion like any other person. Seating himself, he caught her eye; an almost imperceptible smile lifting one corner of his mouth. Nyla smiled, knowing Molly had been behind that small gesture of reassurance. Marcus was tall and handsome, but that was true of any genetically engineered humanoid.
Humanoid indeed. Our bodies are identical to that of any born-human, better even, but we’re tagged as humanoid and given restrictions simply because of the manner of our creation. In Nyla’s estimation, g-e’s were no better off than the slaves of ancient Earth.
The recorder’s dark hair and piercing green eyes vied for attention with full lips and the dimple that played around his cheeks. Nyla wondered what he thought of the trial of one of his own. Not that she’d ever know. These particular g-e’s were designed for memory and impassivity. It would have been a violation of Marcus’s existence to show emotions. Another thing we weren’t bred for pops up unexpectedly.
Byron eyed Nyla with dispassion. She flinched inwardly, remembering the intense, burning passion of those vivid blue eyes during their brief relationship. He acts like we never happened, she thought, flooded with emotions ranging from pain and sorrow to rage.
“Nyla Four, communications engineer for Terra Team One, you are charged with dissidence against Phantos IV in general and born-humans in particular. In view of the charges, what say you?” Byron said into the silent court.
Fortifying herself against all emotion, her own as well as that of the fervent spectators behind her, Nyla set her teeth. She rose, facing Byron, feeling proud that she could, at least outwardly, match and even outdistance his remoteness. “Innocent, and right.”
Sibilant whispers hissed behind her as emotions spiked, and Nyla easily picked out the pointed rise in rage from Byron. She leveled her eyes at his icy ones, refusing to give way, pushing errant, discordant emotions below the surface. These humans, they’re like a pack of hungry animals.
“So says the accused,” he replied, managing to convey a world of distrust and skepticism in those four small words. Pain wrapped around her heart. With a concentrated effort, she quelled it. Byron shifted his gaze from hers, and nodded to someone in the gallery. “Joshua Four, please take the stand.”
Nyla grit her teeth. It figures they’d begin by calling one of my own. It would set the tone for the remainder of the hearing. Josh was a good choice for them, too. A member of her g-e manifestation group, he was enmeshed in a relationship with a born-human, trying to ignore his origins. He’ll end up like me, she thought, cast adrift when no longer novel. Born-humans didn’t want permanent relationships with g-e’s, tied forever to the planet they were manifested for. Born-humans wanted only work and the intense sensual pleasures g-e’s provided.
Josh rose, his boots clicking out a staccato rhythm as he moved forward, avoiding Nyla’s gaze. His gait was unsure, uneven, out of sync for someone they’d coined “The Jaguar”. He sat facing her, and still he refused to meet Nyla’s eyes.
Her psi senses open, Nyla could feel the intense waves of reassurance Chloridia emitted to her lover. With the strength of the sending, Nyla knew the woman had just missed being telepathic in her own right. Damn her, she certainly has her hooks in him. Josh’s head turned toward Chloridia and he smiled back, his perfect teeth white against tanned skin, a lock of blond hair slipping over his sculptured brow. Nyla pitied the heartbreak he had coming. He’s so naive. Just like I was, at one time.
“State your name and title for the record and then be seated,” Byron requested, acting as both judge and prosecuting attorney. Nyla knew from her research on earth trials that this wasn’t necessarily right or fair, but since the colony had no judicial system, and no guidelines adopted, Byron was more or less free to establish what he wanted.
“Joshua Four, engineer for Terra Team One, manifested for planet Phantos IV.” Joshua perched on the edge of his chair.
“Do you have knowledge of the defendant?”
“The defendant was a member of my manifestation group, as well as being both engineer and communicator for Terra Team One,” Josh replied, looking everywhere in the room but at her. His agitation was more than evident in the continual shaking of his foot.
“ Do you have personal knowledge of Nyla’s dissident behavior?” Byron asked, his voice strong and authoritarian. He’s getting right to the point, Nyla thought. Wonder if he’s under some sort of time restriction?
Josh squirmed. He turned to Byron. “I’m not certain exactly what behavior you mean, Sir.”
Josh always did hate to commit himself, Nyla thought. She remembered their days in the classroom. She used to tease him about talking his way all around a subject before he was finally forced to come to the point. Another unusual trait for a g-e, but that’s fast becoming the norm. She thought about that. Josh responded to Chloridia. Could he be the next one to pop up with unexpected abilities?
Nyla could sense irritation from both Chloridia and Byron, and saw Josh shift uncomfortably. Both she and Josh knew he’d hear about it later. They don’t call it court, but they may as well. I’m on trial, and everything I am depends on the results of this ‘hearing’. Resolutely she turned her mind back to the proceedings. She refused to consider that the outcome of her trial could be anything other than innocent. There was too much at stake. She stood to lose her life, but if she did, the g-e’s could be forced into slavery or worse. The Un would cease to be.
Byron looked aggrieved, sighing audibly. “What was your opinion of the defendant’s job performance?”
Josh, obviously relieved, grinned. “She did great.” From the corner of her eyes, Nyla could see Chloridia glaring at Josh. Looking rebellious, Josh continued. “Well, she did. She was a great engineer and a more than capable communicator, the best we had. We never once were caught in a storm when she was communicator.”
From the corner of her eye, Nyla saw Byron exchange reassuring glances with Chloridia. He turned to Josh with an encouraging smile, capped white teeth gleaming in an artificially tanned face, his skin tones permanently altered on earth years before. “That’s fine, Josh. No one has hinted that Nyla Four was anything less than exceptional in the skills for which she was manifested. Now tell me more.”
Again Josh was eager to reply, going so far as to glance comfortingly at Nyla before answering. “She was a great engineer, I mean, she is a great engineer. Once we finished construction on the landing towers, we started to scout for titanium. Nyla found it quicker than anyone, even . . .” he paused, looked stricken, and sent an apologetic glance toward Chloridia. “Anyone.”
Quickly muted laughter raced through the g-e area of the gallery and Nyla felt Chloridia’s ire sweeping toward Josh. She watched him closely. I knew it! He flinched! He’s in the beginning stages of telepathy! I’ve got to tell Molly! Looking at him, adrenalin rushed through her icy veins. Can he withstand that kind of pressure? She glanced at Byron and, sure enough, he was staring at Josh, his head cocked inquisitively. From his place on the dais, he nodded at Chloridia and continued. “How do you suppose she could find the deposits so quickly? Was it easy?”
Josh’s brow furrowed and he fiddled with his oxygen tube. G-e’s didn’t require additional feedings of oxygen to compensate for the thin atmosphere, but most g-e’s wore them, whether to fit in or to make the humans more comfortable, Nyla wasn’t sure. Nyla decided that when she entered this planet’s atmosphere again she’d go without hers, just to prove she was proud to be what she was.
Nyla smiled as she watched Josh, his foot continuing its staccato drumbeat against the leg of his chair. At Byron’s scowl, he gulped and halted his foot with a visible effort. “It isn’t easy, even with the detectors, but Nyla was exceptional at it. Said she had a knack for it.”
Byron pressed his lips together in a smug smile. “So, she said she had a sense for it. Was that all she said about her special affinity for titanium?”
Josh froze, realizing where this line of questioning was leading. His eyes pleaded with Nyla for forgiveness. He shifted the position of his legs and the opposite foot took up the agitated rhythm. “No,” he mumbled.
“We were unable to hear your response, Josh. Please repeat it,” Byron prodded.
Josh stared at the floor steadfastly. “I said no,” he mumbled sullenly.
“What did the accused tell you about her affinity for the ore?” Byron asked, glancing at the gallery to see if they were paying attention.
Nyla didn’t have to look. She could sense the voracious interest of the born-humans. It reminded her of a story she once read about a revolution, and the vast crowds of people lining up to witness the executions. Even the g-e’s were avidly interested, but that interest was mutated by the knowledge that what happened to her now could happen to them as well.
“I don’t remember,” Josh replied, eyes blazing, jaw set.
Byron smiled, and Nyla knew he’d been prepared for just such a response. He arranged his face into the proper sympathetic mask. “Josh, I know you have a certain loyalty to the accused, but you must understand that this is not the time for such feelings. They aren’t appropriate here. Your entire colony, your absolute existence, stands in jeopardy if we accept the words of the accused.”
Josh looked uncertain, and Nyla knew Byron’s words had achieved their desired effect. With little social experience to back them, most manifested humanoids were poor at word play and vulnerable to subterfuge. Josh was worse than most, taking statements at face value. Byron continued, “Your loyalty must be to the people who manifested you. They stand to gain or lose everything, and remember, if the colony does go under, the g-e’s, all of them, will be taken back to Old Earth for organ harvesting. Look out into the gallery. Do you understand how many people are counting on you?”
Josh slumped in his chair, his face a mask of misery. “Yes, Sir.
Byron nodded, satisfied, and glanced at Nyla. Her fists clenched, enraged at this manipulation of Josh. She caught Byron’s eye. He flashed a thin lipped smile at her and glanced back at Josh. “Now, did the accused say anything further about her expertise in locating titanium deposits?”
“Yes, Sir.” Josh stared at the floor.
Byron leaned forward, using sheer dominance to force Josh to meet his eyes. The gallery was motionless, straining to hear it all. “Josh, what did Nyla say about her uncanny talent to locate it?”
Josh took a deep breath, expelling it shakily before replying. His hands shook. “She said it summoned her.”
Nyla stood. “That’s proof of its sentience! How could I have been any better than anyone else if it didn’t?” She turned to the spectators, arms stretched wide, palms opened. “The law of averages states that I should have been no better than anyone else. Think about it!”
“Nyla Four! Be seated!” Byron shouted, banging his fist on the table for attention.
The backlash of reaction from the spectators hit Nyla like a furious wind. She held her shoulders rigid against the onslaught.
“Silence! Order will be maintained!” Byron banged harder and the voices subsided. Byron glared at them, then turned to Josh. “Thank you, Josh. You’re dismissed.”
Josh left the witness box, his face pale. He didn’t meet her eyes. Despite everything, Nyla felt a sharp stab of sympathy. Placing her hand in her pocket, she reached for the lump of ore, the Un. It was there, immediately responsive, warm and alive. Heartened, the corners of her mouth turned upward in a soft, secretive smile. Nothing can happen to me. The Un, meaning the only or the first, the name the ore had chosen for itself, wouldn’t let it.
Feeling the Un stir again in response, Nyla sighed with impatience. If only these people would listen. She’d gone so far as to try to show Byron how the Un communicated, but it had remained silent and unresponsive. She’d begged him to trust her, but he’d ignored her pleas. She’d supposed at the time it was due to lack of telepathic abilities, now she knew he hadn’t wanted to see.
For the hundredth time she wished it would communicate with someone else, but knew it was afraid. It had tried before, and brought destruction and ruin to the people it contacted.
A scout ship had conducted planetary mineralogical surveys. The Un, having just achieved sentience, reached out telepathically. Eager to please, the Un became what they sensed the crew desired.
When the first settlement arrived, the Un had immediately reached out to them, and found one mind open to its voice. Unfortunately, that individual, unstable at best, had developed a morbid fear of the sand and wind. In its innocence, the Un acted on this dominant thought and had whipped up frenzied tempests. The first colony met their deaths during such storms. A second group arrived. The Un contacted a biologist preoccupied with viral bacteria. The Un again became what they believed was wanted. This colony, too, died.
The Un had waited before contacting her, making certain no evil could befall the humans because of their actions, but they were still fearful of revealing themselves to others. She’d tried to convince them with little success.
Whispers and muffled comments buzzed. Byron glared, his lips tight. The comments trailed off. “Chloridia Hogard.”
Chapter 2
He’s really playing this one to the hilt. He wants no hint of impropriety to soil the case.
The self-satisfied simper on Chloridia’s gaunt face was not lost on anyone. It was well-known that Nyla and Chloridia had been at odds since they’d met. They’d fought over Josh, Byron, sites for mining titanium, and a hundred other small things. In fact, their relationship had been so turbulent that it had been Chloridia that Nyla had blamed for engineering her downfall until she’d realized that Byron was orchestrating Chloridia’s actions. She perceived later that Chloridia and Byron were two sides of the same coin, equally intent on her destruction, but his betrayal had been the cruelest.
Chloridia sat, appearing calm and professional in cream linen, highlighted with gold-tone jewelry, her hazel eyes gazing at Byron. Byron’s gaze met Chloridia’s briefly, then went back to his notes. The hairs on the back of Nyla’s neck rose in response to the rising anticipation from the audience. Byron delayed until the spectators grew restive.
Nyla had researched old trials on earth while awaiting her hearing. He’s counting on half-remembered stories of their ancestors and the trust born-humans seemed to have in the actions and behavior of their superiors. In the old days, people testifying in a trial were asked to swear on some holy relic to prove they were telling the truth.
Nyla’s gaze met Byron’s as it struck her that here was one meaningful difference between old earth trials and hers. No one here had been asked to swear to their testimony. This is Byron’s coordinated effort to rid himself, as well as the colony, of me, done with the smooth efficiency of a well-oiled machine.
“Miss Hogard, as Chief of Terra Team One, you had ample opportunity to study the humanoid Nyla Four, did you not?”
Ah, they’re going to make my manifestation a point of difference. No matter how many times born-humans are told that there’s no difference between themselves and manifested humans, derogatory terms still apply and the difference in the manner of our origins actually becomes a chasm. In time, she supposed, everything would settle down and they’d be accepted as just people, but judging from all the problems they’d had on earth with people of different colors and religions, that may not happen for eons.
Chloridia glanced at Nyla dispassionately. “I did.”
“Can you give Council a summation of your experiences with her?”
“I have a grievance, Mr. Gerhardt,” Nyla interrupted.
The sound of Chloridia’s gasp mingled with the spectators’ surprise as Nyla stood to address Byron. The Head of the Council observed her with annoyance, slight furrows between his brows. She knew she’d have to be careful. He’ll be on his guard, knowing I’ve done my research.
“State your grievance, Nyla Four,” he sighed, as if dealing with a recalcitrant child.
“A summation of Miss Hogard’s experience with me would be her personal opinion. It is well-known that Chloridia and I never got along. She’d do anything to ruin me.”
Nyla smiled as a murmur of assent passed through the gallery, then paled seeing Byron’s feral sneer. Although she didn’t know where he was headed, she knew she’d stepped into an ambush.
“Noted, Nyla,” he said, nodding in dismissal. He turned to Chloridia. “Miss Hogard, can you state your experience prior to your assignment on Phantos IV?”
Chloridia smoothed her hair and smiled at Nyla, a smile that made Nyla’s blood run cold. “I attended the University of Prendia, on Prendia Prime.”
“This University specializes in the psychology of dealing with life forms of all types, human, alien and humanoid, does it not?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir, it does,” she replied. “I wanted to learn techniques that might be helpful in our life here.”
“What was the focus of your studies while attending Prendia University?” Byron asked.
“My thesis title was “The physical and emotional toll on the human/humanoid psyche as a result of prolonged colonial isolation.” .Chloridia spoke to the assembly at large.
“And what degree did you leave with?” he asked.
“I left with a Masters Degree in Colony Management and a Masters in Psychology, as well as the degree I already held in engineering.”
At least born-humans have the right to pursue two or more courses of study, Nyla fumed. She’d asked repeatedly for such treatment, only to be denied. It had been explained to her that they, the colonists, had paid quite a bit for her engineering skills, and those were the only ones they wanted her to develop.
“Did you have occasion to use this knowledge here on Phantos IV?” Byron proceeded.
Nyla watched him weave his web, strand by strand, fascinated with his expert manipulation. There was a sense of unreality about these events, as if they were happening to another person.
“Yes, I applied it in my management of both the humans and humanoids placed under me.”
“In your dealings with the humanoid known as Nyla Four, what conclusions did you reach?”
Chloridia cocked her head, her eyes thoughtful. “Nyla was special. She’s quite gifted, intelligent and imaginative, easily the best of her class. Except for one small incident while still in training, she had prospects for an excellent future. I was delighted she’d been assigned to my team.”
“What was that incident?” Byron asked.
“Nyla Four had occasion to be sent to Dome Central, with a message. While there, she of course saw our tree.” Chloridia nodded toward the slender tree placed in the center of the room.
“And how did this affect her?”
“I was not one of her instructors, however, I understand she became obsessed with the desire to become a biologist,” Chloridia smiled. Several humans nodded with amusement.
“Had she been genetically designed for this purpose?”
“Absolutely not.” Chloridia glanced at Byron, a veiled look in her eyes. “There is nothing in her genetic records to indicate that she was bred for anything other than engineering and communications. The colony has biologists aplenty, preparing food for us, as well as organizing for a time when we’ll be able to seed the planet as we wish.”
“So would you be willing to state that this was her first sign of aberrance?” Byron asked, his voice thoughtful and solemn.
“The first of many, most of which occurred after her release from training,” Chloridia affirmed, glancing at Nyla with distaste.
“In your learned opinion, can you explain what happened to Nyla Four?” Byron asked.
Oh, oh, Nyla thought. Here it comes. He’s been setting this up the entire time.
“There are some individuals who, for whatever reason, slip through the battery of tests and are assigned to a colony, however unsuited they are to such an assignment.”
“Is this a mental illness?”
Chloridia frowned. “In its moderate state, no. Everyone has interests and hobbies. However, if left to develop on its own, it can, at times, assume an unhealthy bent. It can develop into a mental illness.”
“You mentioned both human and humanoid, could such an illness affect either?”
“Yes, it can. It’s been discovered that no matter how strenuous the research into genetic manipulation, some things slip by unnoticed. The lack of taste buds in humanoids is a prime example. Geneticists cannot, for reasons we do not understand yet, enhance predominant characteristics without the loss of something, in their case, taste buds. ”
“Your point, Miss Hogard?” Byron prodded.
“If something that is known cannot be corrected easily, how many more things, unseen and unnoticed, slip in through the exacting process of manipulation? In this particular case, I believe the individual known as Nyla Four was defective from the outset.”
They have to prove me wrong, and more than that, defective, Nyla thought, detached. They have to obliterate any hint that I might know what I’m talking about. If not, the born-humans stand to lose all they’ve invested and more. I understand what they’re facing, but can’t they see a life form is worth more than their petty financial concerns? Fear ran like hot water through her veins. If they succeed, a race will die, as will I. I wish I’d been able to get that message off- planet for help. She brought her attention back to the tableau before her.
“In what way is the individual defective? Is it dangerous?” Byron asked.
Nyla flinched. It. She’d been assigned a sex, as Byron well knew, but they were trying to take even that away from her, to make her an object, just as they were trying to do to the ore. They were trying to make her a thing no one could relate to or sympathize with.
Chloridia looked thoughtful. “It’s an illness, like any other. In simple terms, unable to reconcile the career path she’d been assigned with the one she desired, Nyla Four transferred her obsessive love of plants to the ore, assigning it similar properties of life. If left untreated, most mental deviations will worsen.”
Byron glanced at the spectators, then paused, then stared at Chloridia, his blue eyes blazing. “Is Nyla Four dangerous?”
Chloridia’s face set into neutral lines. “Under specific circumstances, she could be.”
“Which conditions might those be?” Byron prompted.
“If she became fixated on an idea, desperate to prove something…” Chloridia shrugged and allowed the comment to dangle.
The significance was not lost on the crowd. I’ve lost the humans, and perhaps even a few of the g-e’s. I can feel their fear. It’s like pinpricks in my back. She squirmed. The tide was turning against her. Byron had manipulated them like a master.
Byron rose, glancing through the skylight at the darkening sky. Even here the gusts of wind were evident in the red sand sifting from the skylight, occasionally obscuring the waning light. The ever-present scent of iron ore accompanied the stronger gusts.
“We stand in recess until tomorrow. Thank you all for coming,” Byron announced, grabbing his notes and nodding toward two of the colonists before striding out the door. The rest of the Council followed hard on his heels.
Nyla, hammered by the rising tide of distrust, rose and left the room without a backward glance. Footfalls behind her startled her, and Nyla glanced back to see two human colonists following her. When she reached her quarters, the men stationed themselves outside. Dismayed, Nyla realized that when Byron had nodded, she’d been placed under protective custody. Except for the Un, I’m now alone.
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