A sci-fi story for Burns Night
Even
when his ship broke through the mass of grey cloud surrounding the planet,
Garvis didn't recognise the place. His console scrolled a list of facts: third
planet around a class G sun, smaller than his own world, mostly water,
breathable atmosphere (just), inhabited by one dominant race (non-spacefaring,
intelligence rating 38%), one small moon - lifeless.
He
liked playing this game, testing out his memory, trying to remember when he'd
been here before but he never fared very well. His mind was too cluttered, a
sea of memories of different planets and different places. This was just
another world he'd visited long ago for reasons he'd long forgotten.
He
was in the control room, slumped in a high-backed triangular chair designed to
accommodate his unusual frame: his elongated neck, small inconspicuous head and
the large muscular haunches of his back legs. The ship was descending with the
secondary shielding down so he could get a good look at the planet but he
wasn't flying the ship. Dorza was doing all the work. Dorza was his name for
the ship's intelligence (meaning Smart Ass in his language). It was the
seventeenth name he'd given the ship over the years. He changed it as he felt
the need but Dorza had stuck for quite a while now and for good reason.
‘It's
no good,' he said. 'I can't remember. Tell me Dorza, when were we here before?'
‘Forty
years ago, give or take.'
‘What's
that in their years?'
‘Around
500.'
He
groaned, bending his long neck forward. ‘Could you also remind me why I thought
this was a good idea?'
The
ship's voice gave a metallic rattle that passed for a laugh. ‘Garvis you say
that every time. We do this because it's our duty to repair what we've broken.'
‘We
don't actually know if we broke anything or not.'
‘We
probably did.'
‘Yes
I know that. Anything on the scanners?'
‘Not
yet.'
His
long pointed craft dipped lower giving him a better look at the surface. It was
a tough rural wilderness but beautiful, dominated by purple hills interspersed
with craggy mountains and velvet green pastures. Many of the lower hills boasted
proud, stone-built fortifications. They were all different, all unique in
design, from tall, austere, fortified houses to turreted, romantic, fairytale
castles superior even to those on his home planet that had inspired his dreams
during his youth.
‘Hey
Dorza. I think I do recognise this place. We were here on a routine mapping
visit.'
‘That's
right.'
‘And
we went down to the surface.'
‘Well
done.'
‘But
I'm not sure why we needed to go down.'
‘We
didn't need to. If I recall correctly, which I do-'
‘Dorza!'
‘You
know, I don't really like that name, especially not when you say it like that.'
Garvis
chuckled. ‘I wasn't saying your name.'
‘If
I recall correctly,' said Dorza, ignoring him. ‘You said something about
spotting the perfect castle?'
‘Oh
yes, I remember. Take us to where we landed last time.'
‘I
am.’
Garvis
couldn't remember how many planets he'd revisited over the years, always
looking for the same thing and never finding it. How was he to know he'd had a
verlin on board? He didn't even know what a verlin was until the manager at the
maintenance station told him they'd found evidence that one had been
hibernating on his ship.
‘And
it's not here now,' the maintenance manager had told him.
‘That's
a relief,' Garvis had said.
‘I
think you're missing the point. Verlin breed like crazy. There's no stopping
them. If that creature got off at the wrong stop you could have an ecological
disaster on your hands.'
‘There
was only one,’ Garvis had told him. ‘And I assume it's dead by now.'
He
remembered the manager shaking his head at him. ‘Verlin lay up to 300 eggs at a
time. If the conditions are right it can lay over a million within a year. And
the one you had on board was pregnant. That's probably why she was hibernating.
She was waiting to get out onto some planet to lay her eggs.'
Not
wanting to be known as a destroyer of worlds, since then Garvis had spent much
of his spare time retracing his steps. It turned out that verlin can hibernate
for years when they're pregnant, waiting for the right climate (or in this case
the right planet) so it could have escaped onto any one of the hundreds of
worlds he'd visited over the years.
As
they landed on a bed of the soft purple foliage that dominated the high ground
of this part of the planet, Dorza gave Garvis a rundown of the his sensor sweep.
‘There
are five possible targets in the vicinity. All around the right mass, surface
area and speed.'
‘Here
we go, chasing creatures all over the planet just to find they’re members of the
local wildlife. Why can't you identify their DNA beforehand?'
‘With
a camera?' Dorza screeched.
‘It
would make my life a lot easier.'
‘What
have I told you about reading too much sci-fi?’
Garvis
grunted defensively. ‘Maybe I'm just ahead of my time.'
He
donned his earpiece and microphone so he could stay in contact with the ship, then
pulled on his flexible helmet and neck guard, snapping them into the hinges on
his suit. He walked down the short corridor to the exit. The door slid open and
he looked outside. It was dusk.
‘What's
the dark coefficient?' he asked.
‘30%'
‘Should
be enough. Blend me.'
As
he stepped out of the ship, the camouflage sensors in the suit merged him with
the background, mimicking his environment. If he kept to the shadows hopefully
no one would spot a four-legged, long-necked alien walking their fields.
Directly
in front of him, high stone walls stretched up in the gloom to form the
ramparts of a medieval castle. This is what he had come to see the last time but
since then the castle had fallen into ruin and was deserted. He ran a gloved
hand over the stone. He wondered what great battles he had missed in the
intervening 500 years.
‘The
first two targets are close together,' he heard Dorza say through his earpiece.
‘In the next field.'
Garvis
turned away from the ruin and passed through an open gate into a field sloping
down towards a river. There wasn't much cover so he moved slowly. In the
distance two creatures took shape, hopping around, nibbling at the grass.
‘I
see something.' He whispered. As he edged closer he saw the creatures were the right
size. This might be it. As came closer he saw they had grey fur, long ears and
four legs. Nothing like a verlin. Cute though.
‘ID is negative.'
‘The
next target is in the woods,' said Dorza flatly.
There
was more cover down by the river and Garvis followed it along the side of the
field and into the woods on the other side. It was darker under the trees, much
safer. He followed Dorza'a instructions and there in a small clearing, munching
on a bulbous white fungus, was a round creature with shaggy black hair and no
discernible head. Garvis started back.
‘You're
not going to believe this,' he whispered. ‘I think we've finally found one.'
‘Are
you sure?' said Dorza.
‘I've
studied them long enough. That's a verlin.'
‘Excellent!'
said Dorza excitedly. ‘At last!'
‘What
do we do now?'
‘I'll
run some checks to determine the population levels then I'll look at
introducing the poison. It won't affect the indigenous-’
There
was a loud bang. The verlin flew up into the air and then fell back down a
couple of metres from where it had been feeding. It wasn't moving.
‘What
was that?' said Dorza.
Garvis
pushed himself deeper into the shadows as a thin two-legged creature strode
into the clearing. He had a knife in his hand and a primitive projectile weapon
over his shoulder. Its barrel was still smoking and Garvis cowered back. Why
had this creature shot the virlin? Had they multiplied so much over the years
they had to be culled? This was a disturbing development.
The
two-legged creature picked up the verlin and made an incision in its hide. With
a flick of his hand he deftly turned it inside out and Garvis nearly gagged.
Then he stuffed it into an opaque casing, pulled it tightly closed then turned
and walked back the way he'd come.
Garvis
crept after the creature, following him through the woods to a street of
one-storey dwellings. The creature walked up a path to one of the houses and
went inside. Garvis looked through the window and saw him hand the verlin to a
second creature with longer hair who popped it into a large cooking pot
bubbling on a stove.
‘Dorza?'
‘Yes?'
‘I
think the Earthsters are going to eat the verlin.'
‘But
its cellular structure developed on a different world. Its DNA would be totally
alien to the Earthsters and barely digestible.'
‘Nevertheless…'
Garvis
crept over to the next house. Inside a
group of Earthsters sat around a large table. These creatures had already
cooked themselves a virlin and it lay steaming on a large serving platter. One
of them got to his feet and began speaking in verse. Part of the way through his
soliloquy he picked up a knife and plunged it into the virlin, slicing it open
from top to bottom while still reciting the verse.
At
the end of his soliloquy he shouted, ‘Gie her a Haggis!'
‘Dorza,’
whispered Garvis. ‘They seem to worship the verlin which they call a haggis. They
have a strange ritual before eating it. Have you got those stats yet?'
‘Yes,
it looks like the verlin population has remained low and is confined to the
very north of this one island.'
‘I
know why. For 500 years the locals have been living on them.'
‘So
what do we do now? We can't take away their food supply. We might make an even
bigger mess.'
Garvis
laughed, after all this searching, after all these years. And in the end they
find the verlin has neatly slotted itself into the local food chain.
‘I
think we can leave things as they are,' he said.
‘If
you think so.'
‘But
Dorza. Before we leave I want that recipe. Would it be wrong for me to try this
haggis for myself?'
Dorza
sighed audibly. ‘You’ve done worse.’
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