"Whatever it is, it sure is ugly."
Lieutenant Ricardo Gates couldn't help but agree with Ket’s observation from the night before. Even if they weren't supposed to be looking at it while they were on duty, it was hard to ignore. The two partners would watch it from their positions in the lab, out of the corner of their eyes, and pretend that they weren't deeply disturbed.
Their gaze never rested for long on the tall, steri-glass cylinder that dominated the center of the room. Even when Gates did try to look at the thing in the containment chamber, he couldn't for long. It made him nauseous, dizzy. Looking at it straight on was like trying to catch anything else in peripheral. It was hazy, too many angles where there ought to be curves. Too many curves where there ought to be limbs. No eyes, no teeth, just a shadow of them, as though impressions of a creature who knew they ought to exist, but not what their purpose might be. It breathed. At least, its torso moved in a certain arrhythmic pattern that he couldn’t really peg down. But it didn't seem to matter what filled the tank’s atmosphere. Right now, they had pumped in a viscous liquid, Gates didn't know what, and even in the absence of air, it was still respiring. So the doctors said anyway.
Gates had a sneaking suspicion that it was just doing that because the scientists expected it to. If everyone in the room suddenly realized that it didn't need to breathe, it would stop and be no worse off than it was now. Of course, the white coats didn't ask the opinion of a soldier. He didn't shudder. But he wanted to.
They knew it was alive. The scientists of the Alpha Theta research facility knew that much at least. But so far, that seemed to be the extent of it.
The location of its discovery was classified, far beyond his or his partner's rank. They had been assigned to the facility after the fact. They and a dozen others, assigned to an independent research lab that had never been built with soldiers in mind. Gates didn't actually think it would happen, but the idea of defending this place had all of them grumbling after hours in their bunks.
Already at attention, there was a subconscious sharpening of Gates’ thoughts as the doors slid open. In sharp contrast to the white lab coats of the scientists, and the silver uniforms of the soldiers, she was dressed in charcoal grey, a smudge in the otherwise spotless room. The creature in the central chamber shifted, a subsonic shudder almost tangible to everyone in the room. But the machines were silent, not registering even the motion in the tank. The monitors, unchanged, as the thing quieted again and the woman strode in to the center bank of consoles.
"Anything?"
Her voice was crisp, all business, cool. Cool was preferable to cold, which Agent Sizhran could bring to bear against soldier, scientist or civilian. She, like the thing in the chamber, had been here when the soldiers arrived. And he understood her as much as he did the other.
One of the scientists shook his head. Doctor Torres rubbed his forehead, not taking his eyes off of the monitor.
"Nothing helpful," he said mournfully. "It resists all of our attempts to study it. We cannot measure electrical impulses, even though it is obviously moving, breathing. It does not eat. If it thinks, we cannot tell. If it speaks, well, it's certainly not speaking to us. Even when we watch it move, it doesn't register in anyway on our sensors, and we've checked the equipment a dozen times. It's working, I assure you." He paused, tone shifting toward a familiar request. "If you would just let us dissect it, perhaps we could-"
"Not yet. Not until you have exhausted all other options," she interrupted sharply.
Doctor Torres pinched his nose, looking up at her finally.
"We have exhausted all other options. We have starved it, we have drowned it, we have electrocuted it. We have bombarded it with every particle we have power over and some that we only vaguely understand. We have subjected it to every passive test we possess, and most of the active tests that do not risk actively destroying living tissue. We even dipped back and attempted to x-ray it." He looked put out. "The machine broke. It was an antique. On loan from the Imperial Academy of the Sciences. They were not pleased. Although it still gave us more than anything else did. We now know that anything that isn’t shielded in the modern fashion will break. That was a fun series of experiments, I can assure you."
His voice has risen slowly as he unfolded himself from the chair. Doctor Torres didn’t shout, but Gates suspected that he was perilously close to losing that distinction.
"Miss Sizhran," he said tersely, purposefully ignoring her title, "these are the other options. We are done with them. Fini. Caput. Please. Just allow me to remove it from the chamber and do what all great scientists do when confronted with a new life form. We must understand this. We must."
The irony of arguing for the right to kill an apparently unique being in order to understand it was not lost on Gates. He resisted the urge to exchange a glance with Ket. Personally, he didn’t really care what they did with it. But he suspected that it wouldn’t do any good. Would it die, even if they wanted it to? He wasn’t too sure. Though Doctor Torres certainly seemed to think it was the answer to their problems.
"There is one more option," Agent Sizhran said crisply. "I have sent for someone from the nearest Abbey to give us their opinion. They should be arriving in a few days."
Gates blinked. Torres started, pulling off his glasses and squinting at the shorter woman.
"The nearest Abbey is Adeline Abbey," he said slowly, turning his glasses over in his hands. " And you told me yourself that they had just been placed under interdict. Something about heresy in the highest echelons. How can you trust a Mage from that school?"
Agent Sizhran looked up at him, her voice sharp and cold.
"The heresy is limited to the Abbess." She spoke as if she had no doubt of that, though she could hardly know before a formal inquiry. "When I had them send the request for one of their Sensitives, I also called a delay on the interdict. The occupying force and Inquisitors will not arrive until after the Sensitive is well on her way. I have been informed that they are sending one of their students, but she is very good. After she has given us her impression of the subject, I will conduct the inquiry here myself. If she is faithful, we can send her to one of the other Abbeys to continue her training."
Her tone had shifted, from glacial to coolly casual, as if it were an everyday thing to subject someone to an inquiry. As if it would be merely a pleasant chat with someone who was simply not a friend yet, but held the interesting potential to become so.
Gates’ gaze drifted to the renewed, unmeasured writhing of the thing in the tank. He didn’t envy the Mage they were sending. He reckoned none of them would.
Lieutenant Ricardo Gates couldn't help but agree with Ket’s observation from the night before. Even if they weren't supposed to be looking at it while they were on duty, it was hard to ignore. The two partners would watch it from their positions in the lab, out of the corner of their eyes, and pretend that they weren't deeply disturbed.
Their gaze never rested for long on the tall, steri-glass cylinder that dominated the center of the room. Even when Gates did try to look at the thing in the containment chamber, he couldn't for long. It made him nauseous, dizzy. Looking at it straight on was like trying to catch anything else in peripheral. It was hazy, too many angles where there ought to be curves. Too many curves where there ought to be limbs. No eyes, no teeth, just a shadow of them, as though impressions of a creature who knew they ought to exist, but not what their purpose might be. It breathed. At least, its torso moved in a certain arrhythmic pattern that he couldn’t really peg down. But it didn't seem to matter what filled the tank’s atmosphere. Right now, they had pumped in a viscous liquid, Gates didn't know what, and even in the absence of air, it was still respiring. So the doctors said anyway.
Gates had a sneaking suspicion that it was just doing that because the scientists expected it to. If everyone in the room suddenly realized that it didn't need to breathe, it would stop and be no worse off than it was now. Of course, the white coats didn't ask the opinion of a soldier. He didn't shudder. But he wanted to.
They knew it was alive. The scientists of the Alpha Theta research facility knew that much at least. But so far, that seemed to be the extent of it.
The location of its discovery was classified, far beyond his or his partner's rank. They had been assigned to the facility after the fact. They and a dozen others, assigned to an independent research lab that had never been built with soldiers in mind. Gates didn't actually think it would happen, but the idea of defending this place had all of them grumbling after hours in their bunks.
Already at attention, there was a subconscious sharpening of Gates’ thoughts as the doors slid open. In sharp contrast to the white lab coats of the scientists, and the silver uniforms of the soldiers, she was dressed in charcoal grey, a smudge in the otherwise spotless room. The creature in the central chamber shifted, a subsonic shudder almost tangible to everyone in the room. But the machines were silent, not registering even the motion in the tank. The monitors, unchanged, as the thing quieted again and the woman strode in to the center bank of consoles.
"Anything?"
Her voice was crisp, all business, cool. Cool was preferable to cold, which Agent Sizhran could bring to bear against soldier, scientist or civilian. She, like the thing in the chamber, had been here when the soldiers arrived. And he understood her as much as he did the other.
One of the scientists shook his head. Doctor Torres rubbed his forehead, not taking his eyes off of the monitor.
"Nothing helpful," he said mournfully. "It resists all of our attempts to study it. We cannot measure electrical impulses, even though it is obviously moving, breathing. It does not eat. If it thinks, we cannot tell. If it speaks, well, it's certainly not speaking to us. Even when we watch it move, it doesn't register in anyway on our sensors, and we've checked the equipment a dozen times. It's working, I assure you." He paused, tone shifting toward a familiar request. "If you would just let us dissect it, perhaps we could-"
"Not yet. Not until you have exhausted all other options," she interrupted sharply.
Doctor Torres pinched his nose, looking up at her finally.
"We have exhausted all other options. We have starved it, we have drowned it, we have electrocuted it. We have bombarded it with every particle we have power over and some that we only vaguely understand. We have subjected it to every passive test we possess, and most of the active tests that do not risk actively destroying living tissue. We even dipped back and attempted to x-ray it." He looked put out. "The machine broke. It was an antique. On loan from the Imperial Academy of the Sciences. They were not pleased. Although it still gave us more than anything else did. We now know that anything that isn’t shielded in the modern fashion will break. That was a fun series of experiments, I can assure you."
His voice has risen slowly as he unfolded himself from the chair. Doctor Torres didn’t shout, but Gates suspected that he was perilously close to losing that distinction.
"Miss Sizhran," he said tersely, purposefully ignoring her title, "these are the other options. We are done with them. Fini. Caput. Please. Just allow me to remove it from the chamber and do what all great scientists do when confronted with a new life form. We must understand this. We must."
The irony of arguing for the right to kill an apparently unique being in order to understand it was not lost on Gates. He resisted the urge to exchange a glance with Ket. Personally, he didn’t really care what they did with it. But he suspected that it wouldn’t do any good. Would it die, even if they wanted it to? He wasn’t too sure. Though Doctor Torres certainly seemed to think it was the answer to their problems.
"There is one more option," Agent Sizhran said crisply. "I have sent for someone from the nearest Abbey to give us their opinion. They should be arriving in a few days."
Gates blinked. Torres started, pulling off his glasses and squinting at the shorter woman.
"The nearest Abbey is Adeline Abbey," he said slowly, turning his glasses over in his hands. " And you told me yourself that they had just been placed under interdict. Something about heresy in the highest echelons. How can you trust a Mage from that school?"
Agent Sizhran looked up at him, her voice sharp and cold.
"The heresy is limited to the Abbess." She spoke as if she had no doubt of that, though she could hardly know before a formal inquiry. "When I had them send the request for one of their Sensitives, I also called a delay on the interdict. The occupying force and Inquisitors will not arrive until after the Sensitive is well on her way. I have been informed that they are sending one of their students, but she is very good. After she has given us her impression of the subject, I will conduct the inquiry here myself. If she is faithful, we can send her to one of the other Abbeys to continue her training."
Her tone had shifted, from glacial to coolly casual, as if it were an everyday thing to subject someone to an inquiry. As if it would be merely a pleasant chat with someone who was simply not a friend yet, but held the interesting potential to become so.
Gates’ gaze drifted to the renewed, unmeasured writhing of the thing in the tank. He didn’t envy the Mage they were sending. He reckoned none of them would.
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