Bac’cul was with him this time as well as Cor’rin, San’dwil, and Kel’les. Little was said on the flight to the site. They had not been prepped on the reason their presence had been requested. Only that a matter of some importance was to be discussed. Ruslan found that his hands were trembling. When a surprised Kel’les remarked on the phenomenon, his charge explained it away as a normal reaction to impending excitement. While the intermet seemed reluctant to accept this explanation, s’he didn’t challenge it, no doubt out of politeness.
For the majority of the return journey to the site, it was silent inside the driftec. Touching down on the mountainside, they were met not by Wol’daeen but by one of her subordinates. Without volunteering any information, he led them inside. Ruslan could barely contain himself as the compact transport vehicle carried them down the access tunnel and into the depths of the mountain.
Though she had not come out to greet them, Wol’daeen was waiting for them in the most sterile work chamber Ruslan had seen since he had originally been embraced and examined by the Myssari. Prior to entering, the four visitors were required to don filmy, transparent overgarb. Membranes integrated into the attire allowed them to breathe without additional equipment, filtering the air they took in as well as their potentially contaminating exhalations. Ruslan was not surprised to find that suitable garb had been prepared for him. Myssari efficiency in all things had long since ceased to surprise.
Despite believing he had prepared himself mentally for anything he might see, a soft gasp of amazement escaped his lips as Wol’daeen led him and his friends to a long, silvery platform. Lying on it on their backs, head to feet, were a man and a woman. They looked to be middle-aged, perhaps just shy of eighty. They were as naked as they had been in their respective suspension cylinders. Every detail of their bodies down to the pores in their skin was on display in the carefully climate-controlled room. Structural integrity appeared not to have been violated, though he knew that Myssari scientists and technicians had the ability to enter a body and withdraw without leaving behind any visible evidence of their incursion.
Anticipation inexorably gave way to concern and then to dismay the nearer he drew to the bodies. Neither betrayed any sign of consciousness. Chests gently rose and fell but eyelids did not flutter. Closer inspection showed slight movement of air and skin in the vicinity of the nostrils. Tubes and conduits supplied nourishment. Links to pale blue liquid drawn from their respective capsules kept the bodies from collapsing in upon themselves.
For several minutes no one said anything. Though their interest in the display was purely scientific and they had no emotional stake in the outcome, his companions were every bit as intrigued by the sight as was Ruslan. Finally the site’s lead scientist spoke. A female of few words, her commentary was even more brusque than usual, though no less explanatory for its brevity. Her words hung cold in the underground chamber.
“We tried.”
Death, which had retreated to a tolerable distance ever since the Myssari had removed Ruslan from Seraboth, jumped unbidden into the room beside him. He could sense it, cool and proximate, against his back. Despite the sudden constriction in his throat, he managed to make himself heard.
“You’ll—you’ll try again.”
“Of course.” For a moment Ruslan thought the awkward situation had mellowed the gruff scientist. Then she added, “We have plenty of specimens with which to work.”
His lips tightened but otherwise he kept his fury and frustration close. Wol’daeen was a scientist and a Myssari whose specialty was xenoarcheology. But she knew nothing of human emotions, and he had no reason to expect her to be sensitive to them. Kel’les, who knew a great deal more about such things, had turned sharply to the human as soon as the words had been spoken. The intermet was relieved to see that Ruslan was coping as well as could be expected with the researcher’s chilly indifference.
Cor’rin pushed her center leg forward. “What went wrong?”
“With the attempt at revivification?” Wol’daeen sounded resigned. Which, Ruslan reflected, was better than sounding defeated. “It was more a matter of not enough going right. We prepared thoroughly. The translations of the relevant human manuals, procedures, technologies were checked several times before we began. In addition we have access to our own Myssari attempts at long-term preservation.” She looked back toward the platform.
“The primary difficulty with such a process is the same as it has always been. While the technology for long-term preservation of a physical corpus has clearly been familiar to humans as well as to our own people, no known means exists for reviving thought.” A hand indicated the woman. She was still beautiful, Ruslan thought. He preferred to think of her as sleeping rather than brain-dead.
“Stored separately in cylinders behind each preservation tube were quantities of blood specific to each individual. Using this, we carefully filled veins and arteries. Next we succeeded in restarting the natural heart pumps. Restoring respiratory function was more difficult but in the end proved satisfactory.” She gestured. “That is as much as we were able to accomplish.”
“Electrical cortical stimulation?” Cor’rin wondered.
Wol’daeen signaled understanding. “When the specified drugs that were also stored behind each cylinder failed to produce the hoped-for response, such stimulation was indeed attempted: light at first, then increasing in graduated increments. Muscle stimulation was achieved, but nothing else. It is possible to manually expose the eyes to daylight. This too was tried in the hope that it might initiate a recognizable response where all other attempts had failed.” For the first time there was a hint of genuine sadness in the scientist’s voice. “Not one of our various efforts produced anything that could be called a cognizant response. The neural readings for both brains are completely flat.”
It was left to San’dwil to sum up the totality of the attempt. “So you can make the bodies live but cannot bring back consciousness.”
Wol’daeen gestured affirmatively. “It is most exasperating. The resurrected forms have all the appearance of life but none of the necessary cognitive functions. The conclusion to be drawn is that while humankind mastered the means necessary to preserve physical form over the long term, they failed at finding a way to preserve memories in the organic mind. They went as far as they could with what they knew. Perhaps they hoped that whoever eventually resurrected them would have learned of a way to release or revive memories stored within the cerebral cortex. Sadly, we also recognize that such knowledge is nothing more than a flurry of electrical connections and pertinent stimuli. If it is shut down for any reasonable period of time, it vanishes.” Her attention fixed on the silent Ruslan.
“Nonetheless, we will try again, and keep trying, in the hope that there may be some critical factor we have overlooked or otherwise neglected to implement. The potential rewards of success are too great to be dismissed by a first failed attempt.”
Having heard it before, this time a devastated Ruslan was not shocked by the question Cor’rin posed next. “What about the female’s eggs?”
“As our initial interest has been focused wholly on the prospects for revivification,” Wol’daeen replied, “we have not proceeded with vivisection. Having failed to revive these two specimens, we will certainly not waste that which can be learned from—”