PROTOTYPE
By Heck



Comments to heck@petermeyer.go-plus.net

Having a go at the ol' science fiction/fantasy.

This series takes a little while to get going, but stay with it. It'll be

worth it. I hope.

PROLOGUES

Prologue 1

This was it!

Finally, after years of training, here she was about to go EVA for the first
time. It was what she had been dreaming of most of her life.

As a Science Officer, she had been out on Extra-Vehicular Activities before,
of course, but never alone. And here she was, standing in the cavernous
payload bay of the Space Shuttle Europa, hooked up to her umbilicus and
watching the widening gap as the huge doors slid silently back.

Lucy Radovic, thirty-two, had wanted, needed, to be here since eighth grade.

She had always been popular, at school. Always an 'A' student, always a
cheerleader, always surrounded by popular boys who had categorised her as a
'hot babe'.

But never the most popular, never valedictorian, never head cheerleader, never
the hottest babe.

Just 'above average', in fact. An above average child of above average
parents. Parents who had encouraged her to do well, but never pushed; had
praised her for her achievements but never applauded.

Sergei and Kathy Radovic had been good parents, proud of their daughter and,
in their respective professions of surgeon and lawyer, had provided for her
well during her formative years in the mid-west. They lived in comfortable
colonial-style house in small-town America, with a double garage and an
ancient oak in the front yard, but while very good at their jobs neither was
outstanding in his or her field.

Just 'above average', in fact.

At school, Lucy had kept up her grades and, having inherited her parents'
'above average' genes, did well at sports. Tall, athletic, and strong for a
girl, her bell of shining blonde hair tumbling about her shoulders, she was
'above average' in the beauty stakes as well.

And that was fine.

She appeared to have her feet firmly on the ground. She had no specific
academic leanings, never got into science fiction or fantasy, and projected
something of a straight-laced and serious persona.

And that was fine, too.

Only, in the eighth grade, she discovered science. More specifically, those
branches of science that related to space exploration and astronomy. Her
father succumbed to her pleading and bought her a small telescope, and from
that day on nearly all of her spare time was spent peering through the
mirror-lens at the stars, or reading the avalanche of books she appropriated
from the school library.

Lucy Radovic was in danger of becoming a geek, and it was only her social and
athletic skills that saved her from that fate.

After a while, thoroughly absorbed in the theory of space travel, Lucy
realised that what she wanted most of all was to be an astronaut. It was
difficult field to get into, and even more so for a woman. There was plenty of
precedent, of course. Female members of shuttle crews were almost commonplace,
these days, but it remained a largely male-dominated profession. In such a
highly competitive field, it soon dawned on her that she would have to at
least match, and probably outdo, her male rivals for the job.

So she began to study. She gave up most of her extra-curricular activities,
and took classes in chemistry, physics, and biology. She sponged up every jot
of information that was available by poring over books and the Internet, and
even went to Space Camp.

Knowing that astronauts had to be extraordinarily physically fit individuals,
she devoted time each day to improving her already athletic physique,
concentrating on stamina and aerobic ability, but coincidentally adding toned
and feminine muscle.

She graduated high school as ??? and went to college. She took her degrees in
physics and biology, and went on to post-graduate studies at MIT and Oxford,
where she gained a doctorate in astrophysics. She moved to Houston, sent her
resume to the Johnson Space Centre, and settled back to wait for the
acceptance letter she knew would come.

It didn't, of course.

A local high school needed a librarian, so she took up that post and, from her
workstation, bombarded the space centre with letters, explaining exactly why
she was the perfect candidate for astronaut training.

Most of her letters received no reply. Some were acknowledged, and some even
got a stock reply. "Thank you for your interest. We regret to inform you that
we are not currently recruiting at this time".

At one time, of course, prospective astronauts were exclusively selected from
military personnel and, as regards pilots and navigators, this was still
largely the case. But as far as science officers were concerned, these days
all kinds of civilian academics had been accepted into the programme. If them,
Lucy thought, why not me? And her frustration grew.

Eventually, though, her persistence paid off. An astrophysicist named
Professor Pavel Pradovich, known affectionately to his colleagues as 3P, wrote
to offer her an internship at about half her current salary and for which she
was grossly overqualified. Lucy grabbed the opportunity with both hands, and
finally went to work in her chosen field.

She worked well for 3P, and gained glowing reports about her dedication and
insightful discoveries. So much so that, after about nine months, 3P bowed to
her relentless pressure and recommended her for astronaut training.

That had been four years ago, and now she was on the brink of her most
exciting adventure.

She let go the restraints to float up and free of the bay, propelled by gentle
thrusts from her Personal Propulsion Pack. 3P again, she thought. The EVA was
nothing out of the ordinary, in astronautical terms. Part of Europa's mission
was to retrieve and repair a fairly insignificant communications satellite
that had gone off-line. All had gone well, but then a relay in the switchgear
that controlled the grapple on the end of the robotic waldoe arm, had burnt
out. Lucy's job was simply to replace the relay; a five minute job, but it was
her first solo excursion. To say she was thrilled would have been an
understatement.

The suit was self-contained with its own life-support system and sufficient
oxygen for a two-hour jaunt. The umbilicus was merely a tether, to prevent her
from drifting off into the fastness of space in the unlikely even that her
propulsion pack failed, Belt and braces. That was what safety in space was all
about.

The bay doors were fully open, revealing a panoply of stars that, without an
atmosphere to make them twinkle, were bright, sharp pinpricks of light. She
drifted up to clear Europa's bay, and the great arc of the beautiful
blue-green planet that was home came into her view. She gasped, as she always
did, at the breathtaking sight.

"Steady, now, Radovic". The Texas drawl of Colonel John Sorenson, United
States Marine Corps, filled her helmet through the comlink. His accent always
grew thicker when he indulged in rare light banter. "Don't y'all get mushy on
me, now. Y'all have work t'do".

"Yessir, Colonel Sorenson, sir!" Lucy jibed back. "Science Officer Radovic on
the job, sir!"

"That's more like it. Jes' you git yore ass on up that arm, and snap to it!"

"Hooyah, sir!"

A note of seriousness soon replaced Sorensen's quiet laughter.

"I know I told you this before". His gentle voice held little trace of the
drawl, now that he was all business. "But space is no place for sightseeing.
You get out, you get the job done, and you get back".

"It's OK, John. I remember your lectures. I'm on it". She shut off her
thrusters and drifted to a halt. "I'm at the grapple now. I've found the
relay. Pulling it free".

"We see you, Lucy".

She thought of the tall, leggy marine sprawled in the command chair, watching
her on the monitor. At his side the co-pilot, Steve Nixon, would be hunched
over his bank of computers, concentrating on his interminable mathematical
calculations, and the remaining four of the crew would be laying on their
bunks or engaged in one or another of the multiple experiments that were a
small but vital part of Europa's mission.

The relay was a tight fit, and Lucy had to rock it from side to side to
persuade it to come free. She placed the little plastic cube in a pocket in
her suit and withdrew the replacement. Carefully, she lined up the metal
terminals and pushed them home with an inaudible snap.

"That's it", she reported. "Job done".

"Then come on home, gal".

Smiling, Lucy pushed herself away from the arm, turning for one last look at
Earth before heading back down.

"Jeez!"

"Lucy? What's wrong?" The shock in her voice brought Sorensen instantly alert,
real concern on his face as he watched the monitor.

She couldn't speak, couldn't find the words.

Out of nowhere, filling her field of vision from side to side, almost
obliterating her view of the planet, a monstrous matte black shape hurtled
toward them

Vaguely delta shaped, it looked like a hole in space, closing on Europa faster
than Lucy could comprehend. In the eerie silence of vacuum, there was
something horrifyingly ghostly about the object.

Lucy found her voice.

"John! John! Look out!" Even as she screamed at him, she knew her warning came
too late.

"Huh?" Sorensen tore his eyes from the screen to lookout the window. "Holy
shit! Where'd that come from? Steve, fire up."

Through the comlink, that was all Lucy heard. The great night-black shape
swept across Europa's prow. Time seemed to slow down. It seemed to Lucy that
the object only struck the shuttle a glancing blow, but the entire cockpit
section crumpled in on itself like a polystyrene cup, heat tiles flying off in
all directions. Lucy thought she saw a ruined body among the debris, spinning
through the nothingness, and screamed uselessly inside her helmet.

In her time-distorted reality, she watched the destruction of the shuttle. The
shape advanced on her and her fingers instinctively flew to the umbilicus,
releasing the catch on the tether. Desperately, she pushed herself away from
the waldoe with a kick, but felt herself buffeted as if by a gigantic oceanic
wave. Twirling end over end, she was borne along by the force, spinning though
space.

"Houston!" Lucy yelled into the comlink in her panic, even though she knew
that, without the shuttle as a relay, the short-range device would never reach
NASA. "Houston, help me! Oh, God!"

Somewhere, a spark ignited the oxygen-rich fuel. Europa went up in a blinding
orange blossom of silent flame. The shockwave hit her a second later and she
was sent tumbling again.

The last thing she saw, before her head struck the unyielding inside of her
helmet, was the great dark shape itself, weirdly illuminated from below by the
exploding shuttle, before her eyes closed and she blacked out.

Prologue 2

"Shouldn't we wait for the Overseer?"

Second Supervisor P'rall looked up from the helm at the squat shape on the
Command Bench. The beetle-browed gaze that met his was suffused with anger.
Supervisor Cracht was unused to having his orders questioned, especially on
the bridge. Especially when it was his command shift and the Overseer was in
his quarters, probably in the tentacles of some daschat of a thrall.

It was quite heady, he thought, to be on the Command Bench of a vessel like
the Qashnim. Huge and ponderous, it was a ship of exploration on a long voyage
of discovery to the nether reaches of the galaxy, a voyage that would have
been unthinkable prior to the discovery of hyperspace and, more importantly,
the ion drive that allowed them to enter that strange realm and traverse such
immense distances in szycks, rather than the untold lifetimes it would have
taken otherwise.

"The Overseer", Cracht sneered, "is otherwise engaged". He hauled himself off
the bench and leaned toward P'rall threateningly. "I gave an order. See to
it".

"Yes, Supervisor. Only, the regulations say we should not come out of
hyperspace inside a solar system. The chances of a planetary object."

"For your information, our preliminary scans reveal no object of any
appreciable size in this region. For Ckafla's sake, it's only a third rate
system, of no importance. It's only because the Overseer got curious that
we're here at all. Now, carry out your orders!"

Chastened, P'rall turned his eye to his instruments. He reached out a tentacle
and depressed a lever. The unnoticed hum of the ion engines died and the ship
emerged into normal space.

"Planetary body off the left fore". The monotonous impersonal voice of the
computer reported the findings of the proximity sensors. Cracht was on his
pseudopodia before it had finished.

"What? Helm! Hard right!"

P'rall veered the ship as ordered. A small, white object swung into view, dead
ahead.

"What's that?"

"Don't know, Supervisor. A small ship, perhaps? Primitive design".

Cracht watched as the object disappeared under the Qashnim's vast nose.

"Where is it? Did we hit it?"

"Yes, Supervisor. It struck our belly plates. No damage to us, but the little
ship has suffered total destruction. Sensors report there were seven
life-forms aboard".

Cracht fell silent. There was nothing he could say. He knew a feeling of
foreboding as the bridge doors hissed open.

Overseer Yyzell was a philanderer. He was a gambler and a hedonist. In his
private life. But he was a well-respected Overseer among the Pgatanarruu
people, and had gained his position through courage and hard work. He ran a
tight ship, and was known for his concern for other species. He was also a
stickler for regulations.

"What the zhelk is going on?" he demanded in his booming voice, sliding onto
the bridge. "What's this about planetary bodies? Cracht?"

"Overseer, I, er, I have to report an.incident. We came out of hyperspace, and
there was this planet."

"Wait!" Yyzell came around to squat where he could look the Supervisor in the
eye. He spoke very quietly, but the tone of his voice was enough to make
Cracht pucker his vacuole. "You came out of hyperspace inside a solar system?"

"Overseer, preliminary scans indicated no objects in this region, and."

"To zhalk with preliminary scans! You do not come out of hyperspace inside a
system! You know the sensors are only ninety-eight per cent accurate, when
they're activated in hyperspace! What in Ckafla's name were you thinking?"

In anger, Yyzell was an imposing sight. His scales turned a deep purple, and
the cilia stood up in rows along his back.

"There's, er, something else". Cracht was quite meek, now.

"Oh, zhalk", Yyzell sighed. "What?"

"There was this ship. Just a little one. We didn't see it, at first. Then we,
er, we ran over it".

"You!" Yyzell roared. "You ran over it! You were in command. Not only did you
come out of hyperspace against regulations, you came out in an inhabited zone!
Were there life signs aboard?"

"Seven, Overseer", Cracht said sheepishly.

"Seven? Seven! Any survivors?"

"None, Overseer. The ship was totally dest ..."

"Overseer", P'rell interrupted. "Begging your pardon, but scanners are picking
up one life sign, a little way from the wreckage. Seems to be in some kind of
survival suit. Vital signs are very weak".

"Can we bring it aboard?"

"Not safely. Our gravity would be much too much for it. It would be unable to
inflate whatever it uses for lungs. Also, there's the question of
contamination from any disease it might be harbouring".

"What about putting it in stasis?"

"Might work, Overseer".

"Do it, then. And tell Healer Mryma she has a patient. And then get us the
zhalk out of this system, before we do any more damage".

P'rell set about the tricky business of bringing the alien on board with quiet
efficiency. Yyzell sent for security officers, who hauled the miscreant Cracht
away to be confined in his quarters pending an enquiry. The Overseer was
distracted by several routine matters that required his attention, so it was a
little while before he could visit the healer and enquire about the unwitting
guest.

"How is it, Healer?" His first question was out of his vacuole almost before
he closed the infirmary door.

"I don't know, Overseer". Healer Mryma was usually self-assured and confident,
but Yyzell could tell she was troubled. Out of her depth, he would have said,
if he didn't know her better. "I've never seen anything like it. I don't know
where to start".

She led him to a raised platform, where the strange alien lay surrounded by a
glittering, transparent stasis field. Yyzell pursed his bucchal cavity,
narrowing his eye as he studied it.

"Strange looking thing, isn't it?"

"I agree", Mryma said. "Only four limbs, and the sensory organs are all
concentrated in this round shape at one end. I'm going to call that its head.
Two eyes. I can't wait to get it out of the survival suit, to see what it
really looks like".

"Does the suit contain any technology we can learn from?"

"I doubt it. It all seems fairly basic. There's nothing to learn from that
direction. A study of its anatomy would be fascinating, though".

"Can you do that and keep it alive?"

"Oh, yes. No problem. Our atmosphere seems to suit it well enough. A little
higher in oxygen than what its used to, but nothing toxic to it. I could keep
it alive in stasis indefinitely".

"Then I suggest you dissolve the suit with a phased light projector, and let's
see what it is".

The Healer didn't need telling twice. Moving to a nearby control panel she
deftly manipulated touch-sensitive pads. A beam of light, carefully modulated
to pass through the stasis field without disruption, played over the inert
body. The bulky suit evaporated, leaving the alien in its natural state.

"Not very attractive, is it?" Yyzell commented after a short pause.

"No, Yyzell. At least, not by our standards". She moved close to the still
figure. "Not very big, either. The suit was deceptive. I estimate its
bodyweight at less than a quarter of ours. Look. It has five small tentacles
at the end of each limb. These ones must be what it uses to manipulate
objects, but I can't guess what it uses these stubby ones on the lower limbs
for. It seems to have a well-defined thorax and abdomen, and look at these
mounds on the thorax. I can't begin to guess at their function. Fascinating".

"Male, or female?"

"I'm going to guess at female, although I have no clear idea why, except that
I can't see an intromittent organ anywhere. Why has it no scales? And what are
these yellow cilia on its head for? It has some more down there, where the
trunk bifurcates, but nowhere else. Those aren't as long or thick, either.
This is going to take a lot of study".

The expression on Mryma's visage told Yyzell she was savouring the prospect.
Perhaps too much. He shared her enthusiasm, but his priorities were slightly
different.

"Mryma, you know you can't dissect it, don't you?"

Mryma looked at him sharply'

"If it dies, why not?"

"Because it's a sentient being, is why", he explained patiently as if talking
to a hatchling. "Besides, you just told me you could keep it alive
indefinitely. We must do what we can to repair it and preserve its life.
Conservation of lesser species is paramount to our mission".

Mryma rubbed her eye with a tentacle.

"That's the big question. Repairing it. I don't even know how it's put
together, yet. I can do scans, of course, but it's not the same. To effect
repairs, I'd have to have it out of stasis. That'd kill it, stone dead".

"There must be a way round it".

"Well". Mryma's eye sparkled, the way it did when a solution to an intriguing
problem presented itself. "We could enhance its structure. Tissue and muscle
density etcetera. That could be done in stasis, then it could be brought out
and I'd be free to work on it".

"Do that, then".

"Ah. There's your problem". She slid over to her workstation and hoisted
herself onto her bench. "You see, our gravity is about eight times greater
than that of the planet the alien comes from. To achieve our goal, we'd have
to exponentially enhance it by at least that much, before we could even begin
to repair it. That can't be done on the Qashnim".

The Overseer squatted on a bench nearby, his expression telling Mryma that he
has not fully following her.

"I don't get it", he admitted. "I'm afraid I'm just a practical pgatanarr and
all this science gives me cold nuclei. First you say we can do it, and then
you say we can't. Which is it?"

"Oh, it can be done. At home. But aboard ship, I just don't have the
equipment. Not to achieve an eightfold enhancement".

Yyzell stared off into space for a moment. Mryma could almost see the
calculations going on behind his eye. After a while he climbed down from the
bench and began sliding back and forth the length of the infirmary.

"If you study it sufficiently, you'd be able to repair it?"

"I should think so".

"We cannot alter our mission for just one alien", he mused. "That mean's it'll
be something like ten anaszycks before we get home. You can keep it alive in
stasis that long?"

"Oh, yes. As I said, almost indefinitely. There may be some minor degradation,
but nothing we can't put right". The Healer was obviously taken with the idea,
but felt it incumbent upon her to point out the only problem she could see.
"Yyzell, I should remind you of the substantial investment of ship's resources
it'll need to keep the stasis field running and patent for so long".

"Yes, I'd thought of that". Yyzell stopped sliding. "I think it'll be worth it
though, don't you? To have an actual alien, one that is so very unusual, to
study, while at the same time repairing it and making it well. Think of it,
Mryma! What a discovery! Well worth the resources, I'd say. Do you agree?"

"Of course, Yyzell. And I'm anxious to get started on what preliminary
examinations I can do until then. It'll be a fascinating project".

"Then that's what we'll do!"

Yyzell extended a pseudopod and moved toward the exit. He was halted by the
healer's last question.

"Only one question remains, then. Once we've studied it and repaired it, what
do we do with it then?"

Yyzell stared at her as if she had asked a silly question.

"I would have thought that would've been obvious", he said. "We put it back
where we found it".