Drama In and Out of the Lab

Location: Research Base (Redacted)

Aliens: Rivan, Planarian, Sauropsidian

“Subject 84 has shown a positive response to test parameters,” Shar says in that way he does. So pompous. So absolutely above everything we lowly researchers may put in his path. When I first started here, they told me it was just his voicebox; it always added a little lilt of disgust to everything he thought out loud. But I know how different he can sound. The creature, a kind of rodent from the Planarian homeworld, is threatening to gnaw through the bars of its cage.

 “What do you recommend?” I ask, stepping forward from the line of researchers. We’re a motley crew from all over The Hegemony. Blem, a Sauropsidian, taps a curved claw on his display nervously. I straighten my neck and stand tall as Shar brings his flat hammerhead around to regard me. His tentacles are curled behind his back in a practiced knot.

 “I recommend carrying through with the experiment as planned,” Shar says, as he might say to any researcher under his command. A streak of yellow runs down from the middle of his head to the tip of his tail. It bends as he tilts his head, waiting for me to rebut.

 “With all due respect, Sh-” I begin, but remember myself. “Sir. Any further exposure is likely to kill Subject 84.”

 “I fail to see the relevance,” Shar says. The other researchers are visibly squirming, aching to do anything but witness this play out. I wonder if any of them know.

 “I don’t see the relevance to the research to push the subject to the point of death,” I say. My voice is climbing. He knows I hate when the subjects die. Knows that I mourn each of them. He’s trying to get back at me. Subject 84 is gnashing the bars so loudly now we’re having to yell over the noise.

 “I hate to explain something so basic, but I suppose I must,” Shar says, untangling his tentacles. Subject 84 lets out a defiant squeak before crashing its teeth down into the steel again. Shar’s head whips around to face it. He lays one of his tentacles onto the snout of the rodent and a drop of black ichor squelches off. It is instantly lost in the creature’s fur, soaking down through its skin. The rat gets drowsy, stumbling into the sides of its cage. Eventually it slumps against the door, deep, rattling breaths issuing out of it. “Understanding the medicine’s side effects will help us determine safe dosage for our patients,” he says. Only he can make the word “safe” sound like a threat. “Dead rodents are a small price to pay for drugs that will save lives across the galaxy,” he says.

 Apparently he is finished with the conversation, slithering his way towards the door. I try to reach out with my mind but the inhibitor circlet floods my head with static. He must feel some notion, however, as he turns ever so slightly to look at me over his shoulder. Without eyes or a noticeable mouth, I can’t tell, but I get the feeling if he did have those things he’d be smiling at me cruelly. “Keep up the good work, everyone,” he says. Everyone thanks him, except me.

 I want to say more, but Blem physically moves between the two of us and asks me some asinine question. I roll my eyes at him and point to the answer on his display. I watch Shar slip out into the darkness of the corridor, like he has so many times. The exact same way he slinks out of my quarters. I want to scream. When we’re alone, when the circlet is deactivated, his voice is soft and so is his touch. He listens to my concerns. He is careful about showing me favoritism everywhere but in my room. Of course if I were caught, I’d be shipped off world. If he were caught, he’d likely be in one of these cages.

 We’ve been in each other’s minds, that’s not something you throw away. We know neither of us are going anywhere. I could leave today if I really wanted. But I don’t want to be away from him. I want to see his dreams and feel his genuine hope for making the galaxy a better place.

 He knows I’ll be waiting up by the door, waiting for him to come around. He’ll tell me I have to be more level-headed. That I can’t let his professional persona interfere with our relationship, because he certainly won’t let our relationship interfere with his professional persona. I’ll be mad, but he’ll hold me close and tell me about what it will be like when we get out of here.

 When the door hisses hermetically sealed behind him, the other researchers descend on me like rabid animals. What were you thinking? Can’t you keep your mouth shut? I wave them away and go to the cage’s edge. The slumbering giant’s paws twitch in its sleep. “We’re both trapped,” I think. “But I don’t envy you.”