PROTOTYPE 02
By Heck



Comments to heck@peter.meyer.go-plus.net

CHAPTER TWO

"That's not possible!"

DeLuca was the first of us to regain the power of speech.

"Even if the suit's life support systems were able to function that long,
there's no way any human could survive sixty-four years in space".

"And why wasn't she found earlier?" I put in. It seemed to me that this was
some sort of elaborate practical joke, although I couldn't for the life of me
fathom a reason for it. "If she's been floating round up there all this time."

"The answer to both of your concerns is the same", Bouvier replied. He sipped
daintily at his coffee, leaving us hanging on the edge of our seats. "She
wasn't found earlier because she wasn't there earlier. Our best calculations,
based on residual levels of oxygen etcetera, indicate that her suit had been
operational for less than two hours".

I watched DeLuca's brows knit in puzzlement, and I guessed mine were doing the
same. Some people might think I'm slow on the uptake, but it isn't so. I
simply don't take things at face value any more. My years at SETI had taught
me to wait until all the facts were to hand before indulging in speculation.
Rob wasn't so cautious.

"Time warp!" His wispy beard and wide eyes made him look even younger than he
really was. "Totally a time warp, Dude!"

"Hardly". Bouvier treated him to a patronising smile. "Although I do encourage
you all to be.creative in your thoughts, I would ask that you keep within the
bounds of feasibility". He glanced round with wink. When none of us made a
comment, he went on. "Professor DeLuca, would you look at Miss Radovic and
give us an estimation of her weight?"

Curious, DeLuca levered his long body out of the chair and crossed to the
dome, where he gazed at the still figure. I went to stand by his side. Moral
support, I guess. We were all three the outsiders here, even though Rob and I
worked in this building.

"What is she?" DeLuca asked. "One seventy, one seventy-five centimetres?"

"According to the personnel archives, she was five feet eight and a half
inches tall when measured for her EVA suit", Jackson supplied. "So you're just
about right, give or take".

"Well, in that case". DeLuca looked hard for a while, carefully considering
his answer. "She looks to be of medium bone structure. There's no immediate
sign of any pathology. There isn't much in the way of superfluous bodyfat, and
her physique looks toned and athletic, which is another question, by the way,
know'm'sayin'? I'd say she'd weigh around seventy-five, seventy-six kilos".

"Very good estimate, Professor", Bouvier beamed. "Dr Cameron, do you agree?"

"Aye". What else was I supposed to say?

"And that is just what one would expect from a human of her size, sex, build
and apparent age. Which is, by the way, thirty-two. Or it was in two thousand
and four. Would you be surprised, then, if I tell you that we found her weight
to be one hundred and sixty-three kilos?"

"That's not possible!" It was the second time the professor had used the
phrase inside ten minutes, but I didn't blame him.

"Now who's passing the bounds of feasibility?" I reminded Bouvier of his
earlier comment. "A hundred and sixty-three kilo woman would be.she'd.well,
she would'nae look like that!" My Glasgow accent reasserts itself in moments
of excitement.

"Totally, man!" Rob was as stunned as the rest of us, but didn't hesitate to
say what he meant. "She'd be, like, gross, man!"

"One would think so, wouldn't one?" Bouvier was unmoved by our outburst. "Yet
the fact remains. The crew of the Parsival reported great difficulty in moving
her, in her comatose state, once she was subject to their artificial gravity.
So, once we got her out of her suit, the first thing we did was to weigh her
on the most accurate scale we could find. Accurate to within a millionth of a
gram. She actually weighs one hundred and sixty-two point eight four nine
kilograms, to be precise, but one sixty-three is close enough". He grinned
broadly, as if he had cracked a brilliant joke. "Your job, gentlemen, is to
find out why".

It wasn't exobiology. Not by a long chalk. But it was fascinating. I looked at
DeLuca. DeLuca looked at me. We both looked at Rob. I could see that all three
of us felt the same. By unspoken agreement, I gave our reply.

"We're in".

"Excellent". Bouvier made no mention of the consequences had we said no, but
we were too caught up in the moment to think along those lines. "You may begin
immediately. Quarters have been set up adjacent; I think you'll find them more
than adequate".

"Hold on", DeLuca interrupted. "We're gonna need some stuff".

"Make a list. Give it to General Jackson. Whatever you require will be
provided".

"And what about clothes?" I asked. "And laundry? And bathing? I need to go
home and get."

"All taken care of. You will find bathing and laundry facilities in each of
your rooms. Sufficient clothes in your sizes have been provided, together with
lab coats and bio-protection suits. And in answer to your next question,
Professor DeLuca, your family have been informed. Your wife and daughter know
only that you are involved in vital government research. You may speak to the
by telephone every day, but I must caution you against making any mention of
this project to them. Understood?"

You could see the emotional conflict going in the big physician's head. He
didn't want to be separated from his family, but the chance to take part in
this project was a strong attraction. Finally, he nodded.

"What about us?" Rob wanted to know. Bouvier replied patiently, as if
explaining to a child.

"Both you and Dr Cameron live alone. Your parents have been given the same
explanation as the professor's, and you may have the same telephone privileges
as he. Dr Cameron's family are all in Scotland. He may contact them with the
same freedom, but I would advise that neither of you speak to them with any
more frequency than you would normally. We don't want to do anything out of
the ordinary, do we?"

I glanced over at Santana. She was cleaning her fingernails with a pocketknife
and looking bored with the whole thing. Something told me this was a pose,
though, and I suspected she was absorbing everything like a sponge.

"And what about you?" I asked. "What's the FBI's interest in all this?"

"National security", she answered huskily, and fell silent. If she doesn't
want to talk, I thought, I can't say I'm saddened by it.

"Where's the suit?" Rob addressed his question to Jackson, but it was Bouvier
that replied.

"NASA has it. It is being subjected to detailed analysis. Like us, they are
interested to know where Miss Radovic has been all these years". He crossed to
the door, motioning us to follow him. Come, gentlemen. I'll show you to your
rooms. I'm sure you're anxious to get started, but let's get you settled in,
first. Any further questions you may have will be answered later. You'll have
a 'hot line' to General Jackson and myself, and we'll be here regularly in
person. We'll never be far away".

It all seemed very cordial, and Bouvier was the soul of geniality, but as we
left Santana spoke. It wasn't what she said, but the way she said it that sent
a chill down my spine.

"I'll never be far away".

*

Bouvier showed me to my room, and I had to admit I was impressed. There was a
workstation with a state of the art computer, and a comfortable suite of
upholstery in plush velour. The bed was big and luxurious, and a built-in
closet contained half a dozen shirts and pairs of trousers, all beautifully
cut and superbly tailored, as well as designer-label socks and underwear. The
bathroom was well appointed with a deep tub and powershower.

The place was better than my apartment.

I was too keyed up to enjoy it, though. Down the corridor was a common room,
so I flung my jacket on the bed and headed for it.

DeLuca had beaten me too it. He sprawled on a big couch, one of a pair that
faced each other across an oblong plastiwood coffee table. I sat opposite, and
we both spoke at once.

"What do you think."

"How does she."

"You first", I said.

"I just wondered what you thought of this whole set-up".

"I haven't got that far, yet", I admitted. "I've worked in this building for
years, and I didn't even know there was anything on this floor. There's no
door or staircase to it. We all thought it was closed because it was unsafe.
But all this has obviously been here for some time".

"Makes you think", the big man said. "They must have set it up to receive
alien visitors. Dead or dying ones, anyway. That dome is vacuum-sealed, and it
probably has a sterile field inside. I've seen similar things before, for use
in case of a major disease outbreak. Ebola and such".

"The fact that they have an autopsy slab is a bit cold". I shivered at the
thought. "It's as if they expected E.T to die".

"Or meant to help him on his way". DeLuca made no attempt to disguise his
disgust. "In the interests of 'research'".

"Any first impressions?" I got up and walked over to the water cooler. "How
does a normal-looking woman get to be one sixty-three kilos? Water?"

"No, thanks. The answer is, she doesn't. Not under normal circumstances,
anyway, but I think it's a given that these circumstances are anything but
normal, know'm'sayin'? I have no clue, but I can't wait to examine her
properly". He looked up as Rob entered, slouching into the room with the all
grace of a sloth. "I was called last night, and asked to drop everything and
come down. Asked in a way that didn't leave much choice, know'm'sayin'? I only
arrived a few minutes before you did, but this young man was here first". He
turned to Rob. "What's your take on it all?"

The thing to remember about Rob is this. He may look like a moron, and talk
like a high-school drop-out; he may move like a sloth, and dress like a hobo;
he looks like, if he had to count past ten, he'd have to steal another hand.
He may seem dull and shallow, but behind those bleary eyes is a mind like
quicksilver. Without being too conceited, I have to admit I'm quite bright,
but if my brain is a Trans-Am, Rob's is a McLaren.

"She's totally an abductee, man. Only way to explain it".

"Abducted by aliens?" I've worked for years, trying to find traces of
extraterrestrial life, but the idea never crossed my mind. "The alien
abduction phenomenon is just a myth. It's never been proven".

"Neither has God, man, but that doesn't mean he isn't there. Millions of
people believe in him, and millions don't. Who's to say that either one is
wrong?" He flopped bonelessly onto the couch beside DeLuca and gazed at the
ceiling. His Adam's Apple was so prominent, he looked like he had an elbow in
his neck. "The evidence has to lead to that conclusion.

"She was on a shuttle that was wiped out by a meteorite. All the crew were
totally blown away. For sixty-four years, there's nothing, then, like,
kablooie! There she is, floating in space, exactly where Europa bought the
farm. Turns out, her EV suit has used less that two hours oxygen supply.
There's no other answer, man.

"She was totally abducted, dudes".

DeLuca and I stared at each other over the coffee table. Neither one of us
wanted to admit that we hadn't already considered the possibility, but of
course neither of us had. I tried to kid myself that it was too obvious, that
my mind had skipped it because it was too simple a solution.

"Interesting theory". DeLuca turned in his seat to face Rob. "But it doesn't
account for her weight. Why would her weight more than double? If anything,
she should have lost weight, as well as muscle tone and skin elasticity, yet
she looks like an athlete. Just as she was in two thousand four".

"Dunno, Dude. The aliens must've done something to her. P'raps whatever
experiments they did left her like that, but they must've fed her and taken
care of her".

"Excellent care", I agreed, my eyes moving from one to the other. My
scientist's curiosity was aroused by the exchange, especially by the
possibility of alien involvement. This could be our first real evidence of
life on other worlds, in other systems.

To a guy like me, that's the Holy Grail.

"Why are we sitting around here, then?" I got to my feet and went to the door.
"Let's get started".

"Gee, Sean", DeLuca smiled as he stood up. "Can we? Huh? Huh?"

*

Inside the laboratory [I'm going to call it that, for want of a better word]
DeLuca and I suited up. The plastic suits were wrapped in vacuum packs and had
been autoclaved to ensure sterility. Once we entered the airlock, they would
never come out again, but would be left in the inner chamber of the double
unit, connected to individual air supplies. We didn't want to breathe the same
air as our subject until it was safe to do so. For our own sake as wells as
hers. Outside, Rob was watching a monitor screen, keeping an eye on her vital
signs.

I felt like a bit of an explorer as I stepped into the dome. My belly
fluttered as if a small bird were trapped inside, a feeling I had not known
since the day I first stepped into the SETI building. We moved closer to the
gurney and, for the first time, had an uninterrupted view of Lucy Radovic.

My god, she was gorgeous. A curtain of shining blonde hair cascaded over the
pillow like a golden waterfall. I couldn't see much of her face because of the
airway tubes and sticking plaster, but her skin was smooth, tanned, and
flawless. All over. Wide shoulders and shapely arms ended in large-ish but
elegant hands, and her perfect breasts rode high on her chest, standing full
and proud as if gravity was an irrelevance. Her belly was flat and displayed a
lightly defined six-pack, while her narrow waist flared into well-shaped hips
and long, long legs. I actually caught my breath at the sight.

Slightly embarrassed by my reaction, I glanced at DeLuca. He was just as rapt
as me. I nudged him.

"Mike.I can call you Mike, OK?"

"Knock yourself out".

"OK. Mike. What do you want to do first?" I deferred to the medical man.

He considered for a moment, and I guessed that the first thought in his mind
was far from professional, but he quickly got over that.

"Full physical work-up", he said decisively. "Exam, blood pressure, full blood
analysis, the works".

"OK. What can I do?"

"Wrap the BP cuff round her upper arm. Close, but not too tight".

I did as he asked, noting the surprising weight of her arm as I hefted it. The
professor attached the lead from the computerised sphygmomanometer and keyed
the pad. The read-out screen lit up, and there was a sibilant hiss as the cuff
inflated.

There's something wrong". DeLuca slapped the side of the screen, a useless act
we all perform when technology doesn't do what we expect it to.

"What?"

"The cuff is still inflating. It should've stopped at about one thirty or so,
but look. It's up to two fifty, and still going". He looked at the cuff. It
was blown up like a balloon, pulling at the velcro closure. "I don't
understand this".

"She's got high blood pressure?" My query sounded naïve, even to me. DeLuca
shook his head.

"Don't think so. Rob, what BP reading do you have out there?"

"One twenty over eighty", Rob answered from his station. "Is that OK?"

"Perfect", DeLuca explained. Rob's computer was monitoring her pressure via a
small sensor attached to Lucy's index finger. Less accurate than the cuff, but
a good guide. DeLuca's gloved fingers explored around the cuff and the arm.

"Jeez! Look at this, Sean". I peered more closely. "The cuff is inflated about
as far as it can go, yet it's made hardly any impression on her skin! I don't
believe it!"

I opened my mouth to comment, but was interrupted by a ripping, tearing sound.
The strong velcro that held the cuff closed was torn apart by the sphyg's own
pressure, hissing loudly as the air escaped. I looked at Lucy's arm, and there
wasn't a mark to show where it had been.

DeLuca was poking at her arm, a look of intense curiosity all over his face.

"What're you doing?" I asked.

"Just try this. Press your fingers against her arm, right over the bicep".

I frowned, wondering what he wanted me to find, but I did as he asked.

Her arm was very feminine, and looked toned enough, but was just like a
woman's arm. Very nice to look at, but nothing out of the ordinary. I probed
the flesh with one finger.

It made no indentation at all.

I probed harder. Same result. I looked a question at my colleague.

"Harder", he said. "Really dig in, like you mean to hurt her".

"I don't know about that. I don't want to damage her. She is rather special,
after all".

"Trust me. Hard as you can".

OK, I thought. I closed my fingers around her arm and squeezed as hard as I
could.

It was incredible. The skin moved a little under my grip, but the muscle and
bone beneath was as hard as anything I ever felt. It was like squeezing a rod
of steel covered with silk.

I wanted to say something intelligent. Something like, 'wow!', but DeLuca had
moved on, prodding and poking at the flesh of her belly and thighs. It was all
exactly the same. Solid as oak.

"This is amazing", I said at last. "I mean, she's obviously an athlete, but
she's no muscle woman. Yet her muscles have this incredible tone. How come?"

"Don't know, yet, but I'm getting an idea. Hand me a hypo".

I passed him a disposable syringe, and he fitted a narrow gauge needle to it.
With practiced skill, he lined it up with a vein in her arm and pressed it
home. As he inserted it, I watched his lips compress briefly. Dark red blood
filled the tube, and he swabbed the site as he extracted the needle. A small
band-aid was in his fingers and he moved to place it over the tiny wound, but
his eyebrows gave a minute flick and her discarded the dressing instead.

These were purely medical matters, and I was out of my depth. So I said
nothing when he eyed me with a question in his gaze.

"So what do you think?" he pressed.

"What do I think about what?"

"Maybe you didn't see. Her skin is tough. So tough that I thought the needle
wouldn't penetrate, know'm'sayin'? And when I withdrew it, there was no
bleeding. Normally, no matter how good the doctor is, there's always at least
a drop. But here. Nothing. I've got an idea".

He turned away and fussed with something on a tray. When he turned back, I
caught the metallic glint of a tiny scalpel blade between his fingers. Before
I could react he drew it across her forearm, leaving a fine red line in the
skin that began to ooze blood.

"What the hell are you doing?" I snapped, trying to push him away. He held up
a calming hand.

"Relax, Sean. Just watch. I know I'm right".

The blood had flowed freely to begin with, but very soon slowed to a trickle
and, within a few seconds, had stopped altogether. DeLuca took a swab and
cleaned the area. Where he had made the cut, the skin had already knitted
together leaving just a thin, pinkish line that was already fading. He stood
back with a satisfied grin.

"This woman", he announced, "has been enhanced".