Incarnations ~ Part 3 & Last

Incarnations ~ Part 3 & Last

By Len Morgan

“I’m sorry you had to find out this way Stig…”

“Don’t call me that, don’t you ever call me that!  You’re not Harley!   You’re… just like all the other filthy Synths!   You lied to me; you used me for the benefit of their disgusting clone cult.   Only one man ever earned the right to call me Stig and he died, all alone, eight thousand years ago!   You represent everything we fought against and detested. Cloning is an unnatural abomination.  There is only one way to renew the human race and that is not by growing and inhabiting artificial bodies.”

  “I didn’t ask to be cloned; the colony needed the largest possible gene pool.  The Orbitar passed through a cloud of irradiated hydrogen, and all those who were awake at the time were sterilized.   Natural reproduction became impossible for them but they still needed to run the ship and keep it on course.   Without the genetic material from the Anti-Synth’s, who died in stasis, there would now be insufficient variety to guarantee our survival.   If you refuse to meet with the intelligence running this world we will all die anyway, we have nowhere else to go.   The irony is that the colony will not survive without clones from the ranks of the Anti-Synth Activists.”

“Don’t even think it!” Stig yelled.   “We were banished because of our opposition to their perversions, now they want me to be their salvation?”   He remembered all those perfect young people rushing to discard their humanity at the first opportunity.  “Huh!  If it were up to me the whole damned human race would die out here and now.”

“Well, it’s up to you man, you – prima-freekin-Donna.   So you may as well open the airlock right now and let that noxious stuff in,” Harley glared at him.

  “I’m tired, I need to sleep on it,” said Stig climbing into his sleep pod; they were nicknamed peanut shells.  Space is at a premium on a two-man scout ship; he had just enough room to curl naturally into the foetal position.

“Don’t sleep too long, we only have air for a day, maybe I’ll be able to scrub some oxygen from that stuff out there,” said Harley gazing out through the Plexiglas dome at the maelstrom of debris outside.

Stig’s subconscious registered the occasional muffled thump as something heavy struck the outer skin of the scout ship as he slept.

.-…-.

 He had a dream.   In his dream, he met with two tall slim humanoids.   Both were over seven feet, hairless, with pale green-tinged translucent skin.   He was struck by their intelligent gold-flecked viridian eyes.

“We have been waiting a long time to meet a member of the human race.   From your broadcasts, your race appears extremely violent, aggressive, and stupid.   Fortunately, we do not judge by appearances.   Do you suppose we could ever trust your kind to administer our world?   We were once very much like you.   We were proud and certain that everything we did was right.   But, we made mistakes, and because of that, we ceased to exist on this and many other worlds. We are the Mooli, your kind may encounter us, in the flesh, sometime in the future.  Other races arrived to occupy our worlds but they also made mistakes which resulted in their extinction.   Knowing what happened on those worlds, we decided we would test all future prospective immigrants for intent and commitment to the future well-being of this world.   We decided that only ‘true-born’ creatures could be valid test subjects because they are free from the taint of engineering, and, bred true to the nature of their race.   If your race wishes to stay you will submit to this test.   You have ten hours to comply.  You leave your ship and proceed to the wall where you’re disabled unit awaits.  You will answer one question which will allow your companions to either repopulate this planet or will result in their complete destruction.

What if I choose not to come?  He thought.

In such an eventuality you will all die!   You have nine hours and fifty-eight minutes… 

“Ugh!”   He awoke with a start.  

“Stig, did you hear that?   Did you receive their message?”

“I did and don’t call me that!”

“Sorry, Captain Stephan Tavishar Imo-Gordannovich!”

Stig roared with laughter.   “Ok, I get your point clone; call me Stig, but only for the next nine hours fifty-five minutes.   Deal?”

“Affirmative!”

“We need a plan.   We need to know what their question is likely to be.   We need…”   Stig paused to think.

“What say we just settle for breakfast?”

Stig smiled, “the condemned men ate a hearty breakfast.”

“Hardly!” said Harley throwing him a freeze-dried ration-pak and a flask of liquid nutrients.

“This changes nothing you understand, natural procreation is the only way humans should ever reproduce.”

“But, we have frozen semen and eggs, and the facilities to start life again, naturally as it should be,” said Harley.   “Despite what they have made of me I agree with you one hundred percent!   There must be preconditions to settlement on this world and I know I speak for the others still in the Orbitar.   We will only create clones for the CM’s we brought with us, but natural births must become the norm once more.”

“Nice words Harley, but are you sure we can speak for everybody?”

“Honestly, I don’t know but Anti-Synth’s are not in a minority here.”

.-…-.

  “When you’re up against it, time passes swiftly,” said Stig as he took the symbolic step from the craft onto the planet ‘Hellegron’, the word just came into his head.   He looked back at Harley who gave him a reassuring smile.   “The first step on Hellegron for humankind,” he said.   He looked down, at his boots, his first step had been into mud, and there it was on his left boot.   But there was none on his right, which was planted thigh-high in lush ryegrass.   He looked back at Harley once more; he was gazing into the distance.   As he turned his eyes to follow that gaze he saw Hellegron transformed.   Blue sky wispy clouds and a warm sun shone down.   Harley stepped from the ship, and side by side the two headed for the distant hills where the wall had once stood.   Neither spoke for an age, each cocooned in his own private thoughts.   The debris had gone but the final Rak-nid unit still stood where it had come to rest.   As they approached, it turned towards them.   Then it led them into a small copse of hardwood trees.  The growth was lush and fertile, Harley bent down to pick a yellow and white daisy-like flower, it smelled aromatic, he crushed it between his fingers and held it close to Stig’s nose.

“Chamomile?” Stig voiced his surprise.

They entered a clearing with an open pool of gently undulating water.  It was crystal clear and fed by a small waterfall.   The polarised sunlight reflected off droplets thrown up by the cascading waters, creating a rainbow.

“Beautiful,” said Harley.   He went forward and dipped his hand into the water it felt cool and inviting.   He dipped his tongue and tasted it.   “Sweet water,” he said taking a mouthful and swilling it around before swallowing.  “It’s good.”   He turned towards a cluster of weather-worn rocks and sat down.  

After only a moment Stig joined him.  

Harley removed his boots and began to undress.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going skinny-dipping,” said Harley and waded out into the pool.

“Wait!” said Stig alarmed by some sixth sense.   But, he was too late; Harley was in the pool and swimming around without a care in the world.   Stig smiled, always the cautious one, always the laggard…

The Rak-nid unit stopped beside him and he felt at peace.

“There are now three versions of your race, living harmoniously, on the Orbitar.  Homo-sapiens, Homo-synth, and Cristal-Minds.”   We are here to determine which should inherit Hellegron?”

“Did you hear that,” Stig asked.

“I heard it,” said Harley heading towards the bank.

The football-sized Rak-nid was describing figure eight’s on a clear patch of grass between them.

“I think we can all coexist well enough here,” said Stig.

There was no reply. 

Harley shook off the water and started to dress.  “Is that the one question?”

“I doubt CM’s could colonize unaided, they need humans or clones to utilize them,” Stig reasoned.  

A ball of light formed twenty feet above the pool.   It hummed faintly, they could smell ozone.  The light flickered - blue - green – yellow.   Then it turned red and a beam of white light flashed towards the Rak-nid illuminating it momentarily, then the unit and ball were gone.

“Shit!” said Harley.   “Better be careful what we say.” 

Stig moved closer to him.  “We all know that I’m the only original so there is no doubt who will inherit Hellegron.   All I ask is that you try to return to natural childbirth as soon as possible.”   He turned towards the centre of the pool, “do your worst!” he said.

The ball of light reappeared above the pool - blue – green – yellow.   It turned red.

“No!” Harley screamed and dived at Stig in an attempt to save him.

The beam of white light flashed illuminating them both...

.-…-.

For two days the screens on the Mother-ship had shown nothing but white noise.  Suddenly they burst into life.  

A tall figure with subtle green skin pigmentation appeared.  

“Our planet Hellegon is bequeathed to the children of Earth!”

The colonists watched as Stig and Harley stepped from the scout ship. 

“A price was asked of the last natural-born Human.   A price both he and his cloned companion were prepared to pay in order to secure your safety.”  

They watched in silence as the two friends stepped onto Hellegon then witnessed Harley skinny dipping, the Rak-nid being vaporized, and finally, they witnessed the price Stig & Harley paid to secure the planet.  

“They asked only that you return to your roots as soon as possible, and honour their Anti-synth belief.”   The transmission ended, and full communications were restored. 

“This is the Orbitar – we accept those conditions unreservedly." 
  
"Captain!  We are now in communication with all the Lander's, and only one scout ship has failed to check-in that of Stig & Harley.”

“God, will you look at that Ensign?”   

“It’s a view from one of the Lander's Captain.  If that isn’t the Earth down there then it’s her twin.”  

“Seems they encountered some pretty foul weather down there,” said the young Ensign who bore a remarkable likeness to Harley.   “Do you think Stig knew the truth?”

“I’d like to think he did, and ultimately acted in the common interest of us all,” said Captain Stephan Tavishar Imo-Gordannovich, (Stig2).

...Ends

Copyright Len Morgan