Liana's Ship (#ONC 2021)

7. Zan: You Can't Handle the Truth

I retreated back into my laboratory. To where I felt comfortable and free from the obligations demanded of me. Then I look at the mess in the lab and wonder whether the corridor was a better place. Full of noise and distractions but less disheartening.

Thera hadn't dissolved the mess from the failed experiment. The pod hadn't opened, the chemical mix hadn't even made an indent on the pods surface. Instead it had dissolved part of the table. I should be used to failure by now, six cycles into the programme. Every experiment left me hollow, depressed and angry.

The table would repair and regrow in about a rotation but the chemical effluent still needed to be disposed of. It's persisting presence meant either the substance was toxic to Thera, which would involve a lengthy manual clean up, not to mention the substantial report to be filed to the board. I only just wrangled my way out of the last few disasters, I was sure my luck would run out eventually. What will it be this time? An order to return to the mothership or...

I dread to think of a return home, probably to an arranged marriage. The threat always hangs over me, If I assumed for one moment that joining the research programme orbiting Earth would permit me to escape my fate.

My family name always followed me wherever I went. Even light cycles away I can never escape my blood.

My wish at the time was to make a success of the programme and delay the inevitable. Success was not measured in partially dissolved equipment.

It could be that I had upset Thera, she was temperamental at best and disagreeable at worst. I reached for her with the mindlink. She didn't respond. She was angry with me.

I breathe a sigh of relief, I wouldn't be facing the board, not this time. I called her again, "What have I done?"

"You were rude," Thera answered in my head. I was eight cycles old when a Xera Bioship spoke to me. I was terrified, no one in my family had the gift. They could talk to Xeras but could not hear her speak. It was estimated only 5 percent of Xerans can communicate telepathically with them. Maybe it's less now. It's a dying ability, unless the breeding programme succeeded.

Even then, if I couldn't get a pod to open, it would not matter. Perhaps one day we would have to make deadships like humans did. Settle with them on Earth and their yellow sun.

"That human female" I thought to Thera, "but she was disturbing my work! If I had enough quiet, I may have got the pod open for you and you could stop worrying."

*No matter. It would not work. Nothing does." There was a hint of melancholy in Thera's mind voice, "you should apologize to the woman and maybe then I might clean up this mess?"

"I'm not apologizing to humans." I said, "I don't think they should be on the ship. They have no regard for customs and protocol. I did you a favour killing that tuber by the way."

"That's great news! Now what about the other 1543 I have running all over me?" I hated Thera's sarcasm, "We need humans," her tone had become melancholic again.

"Do we?" I questioned, "there hasn't been a successful match yet and there's more chance of gaining permission to grow on Jupiter than on Earth. Besides they're so tailless and drab looking."

Thera snorted, well, she would if she was a petulant youngling. Nearly a hundred cycles old and she still acted like a child. Still, it was a good idea to make amends to get a clean laboratory. Thera chuckled in my head, a musical, pleasant tone. I wonder what the joke is but before I asked, the wall in my lab pulled apart. White tendrils moved away creating a doorway.

In the doorway was Betalaina. Her face beamed with a smug grin.

"Ah Dr. Zan," she bows giggling, "or should I say something more formal."

I regret the day she found out my true identity, "Doctor is fine," I said with mild annoyance, "what brings you here this time?"

She cleared her throat, "there is an incoming transmission for you in the chief communications room. It's your Father."