Gibbs and Varma both seemed to be indecisive. Walsh was getting to them. Compton looked like he was falling asleep on his feet. What the hell was up with him? He normally contributed some kind of tidbit that everyone thought was the sage voice of experience.
Bergen said, “That’s speculation. You can’t know that. I can’t believe that the brass in Houston don’t expect us to put more time and effort into this. We’ve barely seen anything—just a bunch of tanks and crates and an infirmary. We need to give this more time.”
“Your input is noted, Dr. Bergen. This is my call. Compton—go get Holloway. We’ll take turns carrying her.”
Compton blinked, but didn’t move.
Walsh sidled up to Compton. “You got something you want to say, Tom?”
“Hm?” Compton roused himself and inhaled sharply. “You say something, Commander?”
Walsh took a step back like he’d been slapped, his eyes roving over Compton’s face.
Ajaya moved in. “Thomas? Are you feeling well?”
Compton smiled, a slow, sloppy grin. “Sure. Whadaya need?”
She took a pen light out of her pocket and flashed it in Compton’s eyes. “What were you thinking about, just now?”
His eyebrows crept up and his features contorted into a leer. “You sound like a girl I once knew.”
Ajaya didn’t hide her dismay.
Gibbs put his hand on Compton’s shoulder. “Is the alien talking to you inside your head, Pops? Like it is with Jane?”
Compton made a face like that was absurd. “What? No.”
Walsh motioned them away from Compton, who didn’t notice or mind. “Do you see? It’s already starting. We’ve got to get out of here before all hell breaks loose.”
Gibbs and Varma nodded.
Bergen was so unnerved by Compton’s unsettling behavior, he kept silent.
Walsh went out to check that the hallway was clear. Gibbs went for Jane while Varma coaxed Compton toward the door.
Bergen stood there, clenching and unclenching his fists. They didn’t have the big picture, yet, he felt sure of that, but Walsh was right about one thing—it seemed pretty clear—all hell was about to break loose.
12
“Salvation?” Dread filled Jane, a cold, paralyzing feeling. “From what?”
“The Interspecies War. The Sentients from all corners of the known galaxies fight for dominance, for control of habitable worlds. Terra is untouched by this, due to its remote location. It was our hope to find you ready to answer the call.” It was clear from his mood, his tone, that he deemed Earth exceedingly unready to answer this call.
Jane was reeling. “Are you serious? Earth will bring salvation from a war? But how? Why? I don’t understand.”
“Your species is such a curiosity. You thirst for knowledge of the origins of life, but fill in the unknown with imagination. It is peculiar that the Cunabula should withhold from your kind that which is commonplace among the rest of us. Perhaps they intended that hunger for knowledge to inspire you to reach out, to search.”
“Tell me about them,” she urged him.
“It is said they were a people without humor. Now that I have become acquainted with you and your colleagues, I am inclined to disagree.” He rumbled with something akin to laughter. Waves of amusement washed over her.
She anchored herself, holding giggles at bay that were perilously close to breaking the surface. His moods affected her so easily when they shared this state. “Ei’Brai—you digress.”
“A common accusation, you will find, in time. I have missed the company of others.” He paused in reflection. “They are the oldest of the known races—arisen, it is said, from the farthest reaches of the universe, where the oldest stars are now burning out and dying—their light still illuminating from such distance, just as the Cunabula still bestow their influence, though they may be long gone. It is said they were bipedal, quad-limbed, yet not derived of apes, but some other species, lost to the ages. They were scientists, perhaps not unlike the Sectilius. They mastered the physical sciences primarily and began, thus, to explore the stars, seeking out life, much as you have wanted to do. They observed, made alliances, and catalogued all that they encountered.”
“But what does this have to do with Earth?”
“It is said the Cunabula began to see disturbing trends, species arising with greater aggression, seeking dominance over all—to the point of precipitating extinctions of more peaceful, benign races. ‘Evolution is inevitable, yet diversity shall be pinnacle, even to that.’ That is a quote, as often taught to school children, from a text attributed to them. They worked tirelessly to forestall the aggressors. The histories say that, to that end, they set their sights on mastering the biological sciences.
“The earliest forms of genetic transmission at that time were more primitive, confined primarily to three types, found throughout the cosmos. What you now call DNA, RNA and mitochondrial DNA once existed each to its own realm. They combined these three elegant systems, creating a more robust form of life, fit for their own purposes, in order to disseminate it as far as their reach would allow.
“They seeded barren planets with this genetic information, programmed by their deft handiwork to explode into lush worlds, like your own—where the genetic information could subdivide and increase at will, filling every niche with extraordinary, diverse life.
“You see, we—all of us—are alike at our core. From the lowest microorganism to the highest form of Sentient, we share the most basic aspects of all living things from protein folds to cellular organization. The secrets lie within the dual nature of intron and exon—expression and suppression and recombination of these—allowing life to seek infinite forms.
“It is within this duality, and the two strands of DNA, that are the source—and an Ark to usher that duality safely into worlds devoid of life—two of each?—two strands for each kind. Your kind misunderstands the literal nature of it, obscured in the unknowing, in the infancy of your science, in your violent, primitive history. But it resides there, within the collective psyche, despite the fact that you cannot name it.
“The Cunabula continued thus, through the eons. Growing wiser, depending on their legacy as a defense against the growing giants, always grasping for more space, never satisfied. The Cunabula turned the tide with their cleverness, with sheer numbers.
“It is said they favored the ape-derived hominids as being most like themselves, though their many gifts extended to so many races that hardly seems likely—my own race being a perfect example of this. Regardless, it is your form they must have felt would be the one that would hold the line in the final fight. Some say Terra was nothing more than a social experiment. Others give it rich religious significance. Only the Cunabula know the truth of it and they are not here to tell us.”
“A social experiment? I don’t understand.”
“History suggests the Unified Sentient Races of that time had suffered a terrible setback. They longed for peace, but the hungry evil would never allow it. The Cunabula revisited their young, seeded worlds, seeking the fittest, the strongest. They found, on Terra, several races of ape-hominids developing into species with much potential. Terra was remote, distant from any busy nexus or hub. It is said they took the most promising ape-races from several worlds—nine in total, the texts tell us—and put them in competition for the resources of your world. They adjusted their genetics, amplifying aggression, entitlement, the drive to expand to all borders, making the need to lay claim to land as urgent as the need to reproduce—all attributes rampant among the enemy, but only mildly expressed among the majority of the Sentients of the time. These races competed, interbred, struggled for dominance. It was perhaps unexpected that you would not be prodigies to the stars—turning instead to subjugate your own kind and to war amongst yourselves. An oversight? Perhaps you required more guidance. Left to your own devices, you disappoint.”