Primal Estate: The Candidate Species (17 page)

BOOK: Primal Estate: The Candidate Species
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Synster was glad there were no recording devices in this room. He’d chosen it for that exact reason. While he was allowed to conduct vivisection on samples taken from Earth and use pain control to recruit his surrogate for the sake of the Project, the punishments he just promised could not be implemented with any kind of official endorsement. It would be the same kind of depravity that is forbidden during the Contact Protocols. But threatening was not doing. The only time the Provenger were allowed to commit such destruction on humans other than testing samples was during their ritualistic banquets. Synster knew he had to convince Rick how committed and serious he was, and how brutal the Provenger could be.
“Observe.” Synster commanded.
On the white wall in front of Rick appeared a room containing six people, three women and three men. They were all mounted on individual racks that seemed to be floating without gravity. The image was so clear that Rick couldn’t tell if it was some kind of projection or if it was an actual room on the other side of the wall.
From what he’d observed so far, Synster had no hair, not on his head or his arms. The people on the racks were obviously human because they had hair on their heads and looked scared. Approximately two dozen male and female Provenger entered the room. They wore only the gauntlets on their arms with shorter blades than what Rick had seen on Synster. They approached the racks and, as if on signal, took turns jumping into them. When near the racks, they would also float. It appeared that in the area of the rack there was no gravity. They used their gauntlet knives to hold and slice at their victims, cutting them repeatedly, gripping onto them with their curved blades. Blood shot directly out, but when it reached a certain distance, it seemed to touch gravity and fall with a gush and a splat to the floor. The Provenger clung to their meals and so became covered with blood. If they let go and drifted to the edge, they also fell to the ground in the puddle of blood.
In a very short time, every inch of their bodies was covered in the blood of their bound, screaming victims. As the Provenger clung to them and cut, they bit into them, drinking their blood as ravenously as they could. To Rick they appeared as hideous blood-soaked vampires. He waited with dread for the smell of blood to reach him, but it did not. He couldn’t take any more. He closed his eyes and turned away.
“If this is happening now, please make it stop.”
“This has happened.” Synster turned it off. “It was some years ago, a banquet. We are a reasonable race. But we take what we want, what we need. When we first arrived on Earth, we were treated as gods. We can’t have that now. But we still need the product from the resources we’ve invested in your species.” Synster stood and continued. “It’s simple, Rick. Your gods have returned, and we’re hungry.” He opened a door on a wall where Rick saw none, and gestured that they proceed. “Tour of the ship?”
Synster’s plan was simple: extend unlimited benefits to the human, while promising unlimited horror if he did not comply. Show him they were capable of the horror in the form of terrible bloodshed, and follow that with a tour demonstrating their awesome capabilities. This human really had no choice. If Provenger had any compassion, Synster would have felt sorry for him.
Chapter 13
Friday eveninG on the ship
“So, what do you think?” asked Synster.
Rick didn’t quite know what to think. He sat across the desk from Synster in a sparsely furnished office. There was no light fixture in the room, and yet there was light everywhere. Okay, technology, he thought. There are probably a dozen other things going on in this office that I don’t understand. There was a white desk in the middle of the white room, the white chairs on either side that they sat in, and a strange bench built into the wall on the left and right sides of the room. Much of it was designed for sitting, but probably half was designed with curves and ledges, various protrusions to support various body parts in different positions from reclining through standing. They seemed to invite any visitor to assume the position that suited them.
The image of Saturn lay beyond the large picture window behind Synster, and Rick wondered if it was real. He didn’t doubt it. He’d been given a half hour tour of the ship and was satisfied it couldn’t be faked. Yet he still had a hard time imagining he was the first human to make it to Saturn. He doubted he was.
While in the Grand Corridor, a vast open tube that ran the circumference of the ship and provided the Provenger with access to most areas, he’d followed the flight of a shuttle as it cruised silently by. His eyes then fixed on a surprising token. He saw a long-haired person from a distance. He was at first surprised he’d spotted her from so far away and then realized how much she stuck out among the hundreds of bald heads around her. Rick had always been amazed at how people could identify gender from a distance, assuming it must be some kind of a survival mechanism, enabling them to identify a potential threat or opportunity as early as possible. When he saw her for that brief moment, he could not possibly have predicted the nature or the extent of the opportunity he had just afforded himself. That one chance glimpse would change the course of his life and the future of humanity.
Rick had already come to grips with the idea that he was a dead man. Any way he looked at this situation, he was a goner. No cooperation, dead. Try for revenge, dead. Run and hide, dead. The only thing he hadn’t yet considered was cooperating, and when he tried, he still instinctively figured, dead. Strangely, the only thing that gave him comfort was that he knew he wasn’t alone. The whole human race was in a similar fix. But, so far as he was aware, he was the only one who knew. This either put him in an enviable position or simply an informed one. Either way, he’d rather be in the know. Either way, he had the company of all mankind as the comfort to his misery.
He’d had some time to calm down and get a grip on himself. It’s not every day a man learns that his entire civilization has been engineered by an alien race for the purposes of a food resource development project.
And now he was learning that even the original wheat wasn’t natural and that it was possibly the first GMO, an alien creation designed to manipulate man. I’ll have to completely reassess my crusade against Monsanto, Rick quipped to himself.
Rick sat in the office of a being whose natural diet apparently included him. This very Provenger was the being who created the food that screwed with his health for about five years of his life. Rick thought, actually my whole life; I just didn’t feel it until that last five.
“Why me?” Rick asked Synster, much more in control of himself now, though with full awareness of the instrument of pain still on his wrist.
“We are required, as part of our contact protocol, to have a surrogate on Earth. It reduces the danger of Provenger being injured, killed, or discovered. It also serves a number of other purposes. We choose people with contacts and skills we can use. Your previous employment with the military and NSA, and your brother being the Deputy Director of the Department of Health and Human Services was a factor. Those associations put you in a position we can use. On a personal level, you have shown great tenacity throughout your life. As a former Marine and hunter, you understand the natural order of the food chain. We have examined your medical records. As someone who has healed yourself from the effect of our engineered grain, you have discovered something of your natural history. This reveals the ability to reconfigure paradigms to new realities. It demonstrates your adaptability to new ideas, your ability to innovate. We are certainly something new to which any collaborator must adapt. Even the large jar of broken pottery on the mantle in your house indicates a healthy disregard for your government’s laws when you personally feel they’ve been misapplied.”
Rick raised an eyebrow in surprise. They had been thorough. How often had they been in his house, he wondered?
“Your internet presence through your website also gives you some influence among your people. We have measured your following. You have more that you think.”
As perverse as all this sounded, Rick had to agree. But his feeling of vindication was quickly squelched by his caution against being groomed, lulled into complacency by his enemy with pretty words. Synster was trying to appeal to his pride. And it was working. Foreboding followed, as he imagined he’d be tasked with approaching his brother for something, perhaps many things. He realized how his world would start to crumble. As for his internet site under his false name, Rick had always harbored concern that this might somehow conflict with his NSA career. But he never imagined it would be a conflict of interest by serving an alien conspiracy. Rick pondered, he’s already got you thinking how you’re going to fit into your new position. Resist and think, you idiot!
Rick suspected that Synster considered this a question and answer period where Rick could satisfy his curiosity. Maybe Synster thought this might allow Rick the time to make the decision to join this scheme. He may never have a better chance to get his questions answered. He must seem random in his interests. He must get an understanding of their technology while not appearing to have questions that are too specific.
It seemed as though Synster read his mind. “Your interest in our technology will only be satisfied to a limited degree, but suffice it to say, we are advanced far beyond your species. You have nothing that can compete with us, and any attempt to use force against us will be anticipated and crushed.”
Rick stared at him. In an inept move to throw him off, Rick asked, “Do you have a last name?”
Without hesitating, Synster replied, “Our last names are the accent and inflection with which our single names are spoken.”
Rick thought about that for a moment. Shit, these things have language sophistication way beyond anything I can comprehend. “So you’re pretty good at language. That answers my next question.”
“Yes, as a rule we learn the languages of almost all the beings we interact with. It is an excellent intellectual exercise and a process we enjoy.”
Rick didn’t know how much time he had to ask questions. If they didn’t like him, they might kill him. He needed to be the operative Synster wanted, but the least he could do was try to get something he could use. Rick tried to concentrate on the information he thought he’d need. He was not likely to be able to use this session to pull any interrogation tricks. He knew he was outmatched.
“How did you get here?” Rick tried his best to sound stupid. In his assessment, he was doing quite well.
“We use gravitational waves powered by a binary neutron star contained at the center of this ship. It gives us the power necessary to create something like what you might call a wormhole. This ship, due to certain technology that I will not share with you, is protected from the effects of the gravity waves we create. These waves are focused at the space surrounding the ship, and it is that space, with this ship in it, somewhat like a protective cocoon, that relocates in the galaxy. By manipulating the focus of the gravity waves, we are able to create and collapse the wormhole where we choose. This provides our direction. The ship remains stationary in the space, while that section of space is what moves, or possibly the entire universe moves around us. It can be thought of as one or both. That part is still up for debate, as our calculations indicate. This avoids the detrimental effects on mass that your Einstein theorized would occur to matter traveling light speed.”
Rick had thoroughly read about Special Relativity and almost understood it. He knew there was a time passage issue in this whole thing and was struggling to recall the lingo. “Do the issues of time travel still effect the ship?”
“The effect of gravitational time dilation is significant. Ten years have passed for us since we were here last, almost twelve thousand nine hundred years for you on Earth. Enough of time travel.” There were certain topics related to this subject that Synster didn’t want to discuss. Best to impress him with the basics, but no need to give him the whole picture, he thought. “What else?”
Rick made a mental note of Synster’s avoidance of the time travel issue. “Okay, why eat humans? Why not cattle?”
“With our introduction of agriculture, humans can produce their own food. Cattle are not smart enough to do this. Cattle don’t explore, colonize new lands, or kill other animals that compete with them or prey on them. Humans do all these things for us while we are away. There are many exceptions, of course, but for the most part you manage yourselves, increasing your populations so that we don’t have to. For us, this is a commercial venture, and we take our nutrition very seriously. Both efficiency and quality product are very important. Human flesh, if properly raised, is both very nutritious and flavorful. For Provenger, it is considered a delicacy.”
Rick had never thought he’d be described as a product and even a delicacy. He inadvertently shifted in his seat as the notion of being a better food than a cow massaged an untapped portion of his ego. The image of a barcode tattooed on his arm then flashed through his head. “Don’t you feel bad about eating another species that so closely resembles your own, that are self-aware, and you can talk to?”
“No.” Strange question, Synster thought, coming from a species which has at one time or another eaten every other edible species on his planet, including many he can communicate with, to include his own kind. “You must see the hypocrisy of your question. We only consider cannibalism abhorrent. I might also add, since you seem concerned about the morality of what we eat, that if we had not intervened in the natural evolution of your species, you would have hunted to extinction all animals capable of domestication, as happened on the Australian continent and many islands around the planet. Where would you be without them? We stopped that. Without the animals you domesticated – the dog, the cow, the horse, and others – your development toward what you are now would have been permanently halted.
“You see, you developed hunting techniques as a race on the continent of Africa with coevolving beasts for prey. Since they evolved with you, they developed defenses against you. When you emerged from Africa with those hunting skills, even the wildest animals of the other continents could not defend against them. They had little chance. As your weapons developed further, they had even less.”

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