Scuzzworms (26 page)

Imelda closed her mouth and swallowed hard.  “Parallel evolution, it has to be.  But...”  She shook her head unbelieving as the data on the screen fed back to her. Metabolic rate, temperature, internal and external structure...  How?

The alien beast looked exactly like a human baby.

“I think it’s sick,” said Post, breaking their shocked silence.

“It’s running out of nutrient,” she answered him.  “The eggs have been floating around for over a week.”

“Where’s their mother?”

Imelda’s mouth twisted.  “Slurping worms,” she answered.

“No way...!” Post’s voice stilled as a biopsy needle was carefully inserted into the egg.  “What should we do with it?” he asked.  “It has a low blood sugar.  If it were human it would need an infusion of glucose.”

Imelda shook her head.  “Give it some glucose, I guess. Its vascular system looks human too:  arteries, veins, four-chambered heart.  Let’s see what it does with it.”

Post glanced at her hesitantly, then sent the orders down to the mobile unit.

As the infusion flowed in, the specimen became more active, kicking.

Imelda glanced at the stationary monitor’s screen.  “The other egg.  It’s almost dead, too.”

Post’s expression was strained.  “We’d better get that one too.  Damn!  Can you believe this?  This is insane!”

Imelda didn’t answer.  Her throat had seized again.  Post was busy with the first specimen.  She extended the grabarm delicately.  This egg looked even more fragile than the first one.

As she gently deposited the second egg in another specimen bin, its shell split.

“Oh god,” Post whimpered.  Human infant legs and arms stuck out of the split, turning rapidly from pale pink to blue.

Imelda jumped quickly to the controls, ripping the shell away, clamping a structure identical to an umbilical cord that attached to a placental structure inside the shell.

The creature was limp and made no effort to breathe. Hurriedly she suctioned the airway while Post struggled with gaining vascular access.  Although seconds ticked like hours to them, they soon had an airway ventilating the creature with oxygen and an IV infusing a glucose solution.

Post blurted, “I don’t know anything about babies, Imelda.  Millie is our mammal specialist.  Maybe she…?”

Imelda hit the intercom button.  “Camille, we need you stat!  Tie into our visuals.  We have a specimen who’s critical!”

Camille had apparently been asleep.  She appeared at her apartment screen groggily.  “What?”

“Get to your workstation!  Stat!  A critical specimen!”

Camille disappeared and reappeared in the room with Imelda and Post a short time after, moving quickly to her workstation.  “What’s going on?  Is that what I think it is?”

“We don’t know what it is but it’s dying.  We’ve started glucose and oxygen but it’s still not oxygenating well.”   

Eyes still wide, Camille reviewed the readout.  “If it were human it would be volume depleted.  The electrolytes are a little off but not critically.  Let’s start some saline and see if a fluid bolus helps any.”

They watched breathlessly as the infusion ran in.  For long minutes it didn’t seem to make any difference. Then a toe twitched.

Post watched the readings intently.  “We’re perfusing better.  That was what it needed.  These readings are incredible!  They match up exactly with a human infant’s readings!  I think our best bet is to treat this creature as though it IS human.”

Imelda managed to grunt, “Sounds reasonable.  Can you tell if it was damaged any?” she asked Camille.

Camille was quiet a moment, surveying the readout. “No. It’s going to be okay, I think.  It was probably marginal when you picked it up but no major cellular damage is going to result.  In fact, as soon as we can give it a transfusion it should be just fine.”

“Transfusion?”  Imelda and Post said in unison. “With what?  How can we match its blood?  Artificial blood is pretty species specific.  We have no way of knowing what type of blood to give....”

Camille glared at them.  “I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but this is a human baby.  You can’t tell me that it’s not. I’ll bet you ten bucks that we could crossmatch its blood with someone aboard the station if we wanted.”

“We found it on Iago IV!  A borgette laid this egg!”

“Then borgettes can hatch people.  Look, dammit, it’s a boy!  Borgettes don’t have boys.  They have ‘its’!  This is a baby!  A human baby!”

“But two babies?” asked Post.  “How?”   

Camille stared at them blankly.  “TWO babies?”

Post showed her the egg on the monitor.

“Inside that thing? It’s bleeding!”

“I know,” Imelda answered.  “The worms were eating the blood.  I think it’s where the placenta eroded through the shell.”

“Then that’s why the baby is so anemic.”  She scanned the stats on the infant inside the egg.  “Severe anemia too, with tachycardia and mild heart failure.  No wonder the other one almost bought the farm.  We need to get these guys up to the station.”

Imelda frowned.  “That would be against CHA rules.  At least I think so.  We’re not supposed to disturb the local ecology.”  She paused, considering.  “Then again, I’m not sure that these are supposed to be a part of the local ecology.  Blast the regs; let’s bring them up.  If their genes aren’t human, we’ll deal with it when we find out.”

Post was already calling Lunsford. “Stat?  You mean right now?”

“Yes, right now!  We need a specimen pickup.  It’s critical.”

“Critical for what?”

“It’s a critical specimen in critical condition!  Stop jawing and move!”

Lunsford frowned.  “Under whose orders?  You don’t have the authority.”

“Mine,” Imelda interjected.  “Code 816b, access 20.  Check the computer.  Do you have a ship already out that can...?”

Lunsford was frowning.  “No, all are in.  Number 14 is flight ready.  Okay, you check out.  I’ll pilot it myself since I was getting ready for a ride down anyway.  ETA will be forty-two minutes.”

“Thanks.  We’re going to move the mobile unit a little further away from the bog while we’re waiting.”

Lunsford nodded.  “Sounds good to me.  I have a thing against bogs anyway.  See you shortly.”  He cut his connection.

Camille was staring at Imelda’s image on her monitor.  “You have a command code?”

“Yes,” she answered absently.

“Where did you get it?” she asked.

“Caldwell,” she answered. 

Camille continued to look at her suspiciously.  “He doesn’t have the authority.”

She shrugged.  “The Board of Directors does.  They followed his recommendations.  It is their idea of a reward for dismal duty, I suppose.  Caldwell wanted to return with me but the board wanted him to stay and testify before the CHA investigation committee.  He said he would remain behind only if they gave me broader authority to supervise the project in his absence.”

Both of them looked at her with new respect, wondering just what HAD happened with the Board.  They would not have given her that much power lightly.

“The one inside the egg is still bleeding,” she said. “Should we risk cracking the shell or do you think we could cauterize it?”

Their attention pulled back to the matter at hand, Camille glanced at the stats.  “We can try to cauterize the bleeding points I suppose.  It would be better if we could transfuse it before attempting to crack the shell.  It is reasonably stable like it is for the time being.  It’s amazing, though.  The shell oxygenates and feeds at the same time.  It’s partly alive, I think.  If the placenta hadn’t penetrated through the shell, the babies could have survived for quite some time.”

The next hour was busy as they coordinated the transfer of the specimen bins from the mobile unit to the ship.  The three of them watched the two alien infants anxiously as they were transported up to the station.   They contacted engineering to make sure a space was available to accept the specimen bins on arrival.   

“What do you mean, another specimen?  It’s too crowded up here already!  We’ve had to change orbit six times as it is!  I’m calling Operations!  You biology bums are crazy!”

The intercom clicked off before Imelda could supervene. “The jerk,” she muttered.  “Now we’re in for it.”

Post glanced at her image in his monitor, frowning.

“Doctor Imelda! What do you mean by authorizing a specimen transfer without clearing it with Operations?  Didn’t you learn your lesson before?  We’re already being investigated by CHA as it is!  This is unthinkable!”

Imelda grimaced.  “Hello, Trefarbe.”

Trefarbe didn’t give her a chance to say anything else.  “I’m calling Dr Hiebass immediately!  You have obviously been under a lot of strain and I am afraid that we cannot trust your judgment in situations like this.  Tell the pilot to cancel immediately!”

“He already has the specimens and they are dying.  He doesn’t have the fuel to return them and they don’t have much time to lose.  He can’t cancel.”

“This is direct insubordination!  I’ll tell the pilot myself, then.  We cannot allow any further violations of CHA rules.”

Insubordination?  By whose rules?  She opened the line to Lunders.  “Complete the transfer as planned, Lunders.”

Lunders nodded.  “Don’t worry.  I wouldn’t do anything that bitch told me to anyway, not after the last time.”  He shuddered.  “I saw the visuals.  What are babies doing down on Iago?”

Before Imelda could answer, the frequency was stolen by a vituperative diatribe from Trefarbe.  The ship continued its course to the station.

Engineering called Imelda back.  “Those are babies that they are bringing up!”

Imelda nodded.  “They certainly look like babies.”    

“We’re getting ready on dock 27.  We told the pilot already.  Babies?”

“Yes, babies.”

Imelda was startled to hear a door opening behind her.

She risked a glance.  Fish.  She noticed with another start
that Kellogg was standing ashen-faced behind her.  She hadn’t heard him enter.  The look on his face told her that he had already seen the alien infants.  Camille and Post were locked in their workstations, utterly absorbed.

“Doctor Imelda, what is the matter?  Director Trefarbe told me that you were undergoing some sort of emotional crisis.”

Imelda opened her mouth and shut it.  Well, yes, she was, as a matter of fact.  “I’m coping, Fish.  We have an emergency.  I’ll be happy to talk about it when we have the situation under control.  I assure you that I’m coping just fine right now.  Would you mind very much telling Trefarbe that for me?”

She had said it nicely, she knew.  She had tried very hard to say it nicely.  Two men from maintenance entered the room behind him…two thugs, actually.

“Why haven’t you been to see me since you returned?  You know that you aren’t supposed to miss your appointments.”

“I forgot to read your message.  I’ve been busy.  See, look at the hours I’ve logged on my workstation.  An average of, oh, eighteen or twenty a threeshift. Isn’t that what you wanted?  Output?”

“Doctor Imelda, I’m sorry, but you have obviously decompensated.  Director Trefarbe warned me of this and I am afraid that she was right.  You are going to have to come with me.”

“Fish, you don’t know what you are doing.  Trefarbe is not a psychiatrist. You are.  Take me to Kreiss and let’s talk before you make a big mistake.  I need to see Kreiss anyway.  He should be made aware of what’s going on.”  She turned to Post where he sat stiffly at his module, looking ready to pounce.  “Postman, you can take it from here.  Just refer to the command code if your back gets against the wall.”

His expression was unreadable.

“Do what I say!  Don’t talk back to me; I’m your superior!  I am tired of your continual challenges to my authority.  Now DO IT.”

His eyebrows raised, he remained tensely seated. The two maintenance men, looking apologetic, seized her arms.  She turned to follow Fish with her escort.

Kellogg, angered by her words to Post, held open the door for them.  Camille turned to stare at Post.  “What was THAT all about?” she asked.

Post, his face still flushed, growled angrily.  “Power struggle, battle of the titans. I’m to act as Imelda’s surrogate while she’s being psychoanalyzed by Trefarbe.”

Camille snorted.  “We work for a bunch of crazies.”  She turned to look wonderingly at the two infants in the specimen bins.  “I had planned to turn in my resignation before the next transport arrived, but now... I’ve got to see this through.  Babies!  What next?”

Imelda sat impatiently in Kreiss’s office with Trefarbe and Fish.  Kreiss had been asleep when they had called him, and he entered rubbing his eyes and yawning.

“What is this all about?” he asked.

Trefarbe smiled at him in a way that showed more than just a casual friendship.  Imelda’s stomach, already twisted, knotted further.

“It’s Doctor Imelda, sir.  You know the discussions we’ve had.  Well, she just couldn’t handle it.”

Kreiss nodded slowly, staring at Imelda cautiously.  “What happened?”