THE ROOM in which Jacqui was now sitting was somewhat larger than her dome, and had several orifices in the walls where tubes fed into it—mostly below the waterline but a few above. She wondered what the senior Sou would look like. Would it (‘she’, she reminded herself) be bigger still than Major, who was by far the largest Sou she had so far met? But the ‘flume’ tubes were all about the same diameter as the ‘igloo’ tunnel at her dome, and Major had only just squeezed through that. And Major was long and well-muscled: if the Sous had muscles. There would be no obesity permitted on this planet—if only Earthlings had followed their example!
While they waited, some food and drink was brought for Jacqui, for which she was immensely grateful: the arduous journey had made her extremely hungry and thirsty. The food was pink-coloured and tasted, much to her surprise, like raspberry ice-cream, although warm—and, instead of water, they had provided a greyish translucent fluid which tasted, against all expectations, just like milk. She ate her meal hungrily.
After a while Major told Jacqui to prepare herself, and a moment later there was a ripple close to one of the orifices. Was some python-like monster, twenty feet long, about to enter the room? But what emerged was a modestly-sized Sou, barely four feet long, and almost black in colour, with skin which was not smooth, like the others, but slightly rough in appearance, like the skin of a shark. Its Big Bell was diminutive and wrinkled, with a few notches around the edges. Jacqui guessed that this must be an extremely aged Sou—how old? she wondered. She was expecting Major to perform the introductions, but instead she heard the voice in her head, just as she had in the chamber in Wistbourne.
“I greet you, Jacqui, and welcome you to our planet. I am the [indecipherable word] of this region of our planet. I am very pleased to have this opportunity to communicate with you.”
Major took up the introduction, in words. “The word you could not understand means ‘director’ or ‘principal’ in English. I am afraid that, as with me, her name would make no impression on your mind. You are welcome to give her any name you choose.”
Jacqui thought for a moment. “Let her be ‘Colonel’. A rank senior to ‘Major’. Or should it be ‘General’? No, I’ll stick to ‘Colonel’. Will that do?”
“Very well. Now, have you any questions before we begin?”
‘Before we begin’. That sounded ominous. What sort of interrogation was she about to be put through? She stammered for a moment—there were many things she wanted to know, but one burning question above all others:
“When—when can I go home? Back to where I come from, back to my people?” For a moment Jacqui was under the delusion that she could somehow be magically transported back to the year 2031; that she could arrive home to find Adam and Nathan alive and well. It was some seconds before the truth reawakened on her: she would never return to her own time. Even if she took ship now, over a century would have elapsed on Earth since her departure: she would arrive some time in the 2140s. Depression settled on her once again, and she barely heard Major’s reply. She asked him to repeat it.
“As I said,” replied Major, “Colonel tells me that we do not currently have plans for a return mission to your planet, so you will have to wait. I’m sorry, but we cannot be more specific.”
Jacqui let that sink in. Another question occurred to her. “You’ve explained to me that I must wear a mask in your atmosphere, but you seem able to ‘breathe’ my air—like in this room—without any problems.”
“Yes, we can survive on a reduced level of carbon dioxide for a while—longer if we acclimatise ourselves first. A similar thing happens on your planet. Some of Earth’s people live at an altitude of over 4,000 metres, where the air is some 35% thinner than at sea level—but others become ill if they ascend too quickly to that height.”
“My word, you know a lot about my planet,” remarked Jacqui, who had once visited Peru and found that it took a quite a while to get accustomed to life at over 3,000 metres. “Is there anything you don’t know?”
“There is much we do not know, and that is the reason for this interview. We have almost come to the conclusion that a second voyage to your planet for breeding purposes may not be feasible—which would be bad news for you if you still wished to be conveyed home. But I stress the word ‘almost’. There is still scope for a change of heart—if you can provide us with answers favourable to our cause. Let us begin.”
*
What was Jacqui to say? How could she possibly paint a picture of Earth that might induce the Sous to send another ship there—to secure her return voyage? But she had never been a good liar. And the Sous already knew too much, surely?
Major and Colonel began by grilling her about conditions on Earth as they were before her departure—an Earth which was still populated with well over eight billion humans—an Earth where most areas were still habitable, although with severe privation in the less-developed countries. But for a while the Sous steered the questioning away from such unpalatable truths. What had Jacqui done for a living, they wanted to know. Jacqui explained that she had spent her adult life as a journalist. Then she had to explain what a newspaper was, and what its purpose was. She described her work on the crime pages—a concept which at first baffled the Sous in whose society there was, apparently, no concept of ‘crime’. Then she went on to describe how she had annoyed the Chief Constable by pre-empting some police investigations, leading to her being transferred to the sports page.
Conveying some picture of the sports she had been tasked with covering, mainly football, proved easier than explaining crime and the police. The Sous, apparently, did have recreational activity of their own: some sort of competitive sport comparable to water-polo—though when they tried to explain the rules in detail to Jacqui, they had no better success than when she tried to explain the rules of football to them…
After a while, during which almost all Jacqui’s knowledge of 21st-century human affairs had been drawn from her, the interrogation ceased, much to her relief. Now it was Jacqui’s turn to pose the burning question that she had been longing to ask:
“You have already told me, Major, that my planet is becoming uninhabitable through Climate Change. Indeed most of the people of my time already expected that, though some were in denial. Why would you even consider sending a breeding mission there?”
There was a pause, evidently some silent communication between Colonel and Major, before Major answered:
“Not entirely uninhabitable. Some areas in the extreme north and south of the planet may still be occupied by humans, though the population will be greatly diminished. This is the sort of information we can determine for ourselves. What we want to know from you is whether there is still a risk of humans becoming antagonistic towards our first-stage progeny—as happened last time. That, only a human can answer; therefore, we are asking you.”
Jacqui was close to tears again. “I cannot answer that sort of question—really, I cannot!” she sobbed.
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“Please try. We may still be able to find a way forward.”
“All right. You must know already how xenophobic, how intolerant, certain members of my species were—are. Intolerant of those with different skin colour; different beliefs. And five years before …” Jacqui stopped, realising that she had probably said too much.
There was a slight pause. “Please continue,” said Major. “Five years before when?”
“I shouldn’t be talking about it. Sorry, just something I let slip.”
“It may help if you do talk about it?”
“No! Please don’t make me?”
“Did you mean, five years before our first ship landed in Wistbourne, and placed our offspring there? We already know that there had been a period of great conflict among your species, costing many lives, and that it had just ended. Was that what you wanted to tell us?”
“Y—yes,” said Jacqui, weakly.
“Very well. There is no need to say more. Please continue.”
Jacqui was enormously relieved that she had managed to side-step having to talk specifically about the Nazi Holocaust. If the Sous did not know that ghastly detail of World War Two, so much the better. She continued:
“All right, among some communities things had improved over the seventy years since you sent your offspring to us. Laws had been passed in many countries, outlawing the kind of discrimination which had been a stain on our society up till then. But it still happens. It was still happening when I left. If I were still on Earth, I might be able to point you to an enlightened, tolerant community who would accept your offspring. But here—fifty-eight years askew? You are asking the impossible!”
“It is not impossible. Just more difficult. We admit that a lot depends on help from humans such as you.”
Jacqui felt she had no answer to that. Another thought struck her—how could she have forgotten! “There was more to the problem than racial prejudice. The Foundlings began to cause damage. They even caused a man to lose his arm. I told you this before, Major, but you didn’t have an explanation at the time.”
There was another long pause. Then Major spoke again:
“We wish to apologise. Colonel tells me, this has been discussed with our scientists and we have a possible explanation—which we should have passed on to you earlier. Tell me, after some of our offspring were killed, did your people carry out any internal examination?”
Jacqui shuddered. She had kept back this piece of information, gleaned from Grandad’s account. She was too afraid of offending the Sous. “Please, can you clarify what you mean by ‘internal’?” she said.
“I mean, did they open up a body and examine the internal organs?”
A vision of Rembrandt’s Anatomy Lesson of Dr Tulp swam before Jacqui’s eyes. But these were children that had been dissected, not an executed criminal! Nevertheless she had to answer. “Yes, they did,” she muttered, weakly.
“Why did you not mention this before?” said Major. “It would have been a considerable help in our investigations.”
“I wanted to spare your feelings. We humans would be disgusted at such a practice. My Grandfather reported that it was done as a matter of necessity.”
“But the emotions of our kind are not the same as your emotions. I shall say no more on this. So—this dissection. Did your scientists discover anything abnormal?”
“Yes, they did. All right—now I feel more able to tell you. They found an organ in the child’s head that does not exist in humans. They named it the ‘buzzer’, and found that it was capable of emitting something—they never found out what—some directional output that caused solid objects at a short distance to somehow fall apart—disintegrate.”
“We guessed right then,” said Major—and if he had been capable of putting any emotion into his voice, Jacqui could have sworn that he sounded pleased with himself. “Yes, this organ—I cannot give it a name that you could pronounce—this organ used to exist in our first-stage offspring when they were fostered by the newt-like creatures I told you about—the creatures that have since become extinct. I did not know about it until we consulted with our scientists, but now I know more. Earth’s science would not have advanced far enough to explain the effect this organ produces, but it was used as a defence against predators, and served to protect the newt-hosts as well as our offspring. In this way the symbiotic relationship was affirmed.
“But when we were forced to turn to other foster hosts on other planets, our genetic scientists took steps to engineer this organ out of the embryo’s genes. It would not have been of any use in the company of the new hosts. The ‘buzzer’—as you call it—should therefore not have been present in the offspring that were sent to Earth. There has clearly been a serious error, for our part, and Colonel has already ordered a full and thorough investigation of the issue. There will be no repetition of this mistake. I can only say how sorry we are that your people were caught up in it.”
“Does this mean that you could send another mission to Earth?” asked Jacqui, her hopes rising once again.
“We cannot answer that question at this time—sorry. There are other factors to consider. As soon as a decision has been made, I shall let you know.
“Meanwhile, you may remain in this room for the time being. A better habitat, more suited to your needs, will be prepared, elsewhere in this complex—you will not be returning to your original habitat. Our robots will bring you the things you need. I must remind you about the warning system when the atmosphere is being changed: you remember the red or green spot on the wall in your dome? We have installed the same system here: when the red spot turns green, you must wear the mask. You will also hear a sound.”
Major and Colonel took their leave, and left Jacqui alone with her bewildering confusion of thoughts. After a while robots appeared and brought her the things she would need: a bed and a commode: also what looked like a table and chair, on a platform which would keep her feet out of the water. She assumed that these newcomers were robots: they closely resembled the Sous, but were pure white in colour and had bunches of tentacles surrounding their ‘Bells’: grasping appendages, she realised. Their Bells were of equal size, unlike those of the Sous. She thought they looked disgusting—a bit creepy even—and she was relieved when they left her in peace.
*
In about a day or so, she was visited once more, this time by three Sous. The newcomer was similar to Major, but a lot shorter, and with smaller Bells. He or she (Major did not announce its sex) was presented as an expert in the cloning and genetic modification procedures, and Jacqui promptly dubbed it ‘Doc’. She was tempted to call him or her ‘Monsanto’—but she desisted. It would only bring trouble should they suspect!
Once again Major acted as interpreter.
“We have identified the error which resulted in the gene for the—what you call the ‘buzzer’—being inadvertently inserted in the genetic data of the embryos sent to your planet,” said Doc, via Major. “We can assure you that the error has now been corrected, and those of our team who committed the error have been disciplined.”
It was a few moments before the implication of that last remark sank in. So whoever made the mistake, they were still alive! But that must have been—Jacqui did a quick calculation—nearly two hundred years ago. The original egg-bearing ship would have had to be launched fifty-eight years before its arrival in 1950, hence in the year 1892, Earth’s time. Incredible! These Sous must be amazingly long-lived—but she had already guessed as much.
“Is there any news about a return trip to Earth,” she asked, after some reflection: this being the other thing occupying her mind.
“I’m afraid not,” replied Major. “You must be patient.”
With that, the three Sous departed. And that was that. Jacqui was left to her bemused thoughts, having to sit it out, waiting and hoping against hope that news of her repatriation would eventually come through…