Roy - Chapter 6 - edited by Boon Dock

{2}Chapter 6

Roy had left his animal, with a heavy heart and foreboding, in the mostly gutted ruin of Research Outpost 2. Even though he was sure the animal understood, and would wait for him, he feared he might have seen his new friend for the last time.

Bob always left Wobbler there, when he had to go inside and Wobbler was always there the next day. Norm's Zisch always came right out of the water; so Roy sighed and petted the humongous head of the black beast and received a dry lick across the chest and face. He then went to Ma Swanson's where Nick, one of Ma Swenson's employees, took him over to Ant Hill.

***

Nick was tall, thin and half Andorian. Unlike a full Andorian, he was over three meters tall and flew the Toyo-Sung Ajax 453 from the first passenger seat-row; the actual pilot seat had been removed long ago. Nick and Roy had known each other for a long time. Nick and Ma Swanson, and everyone else from the Boathouse, knew that he had been walking the Jungles without much gear.

Nick wore the same type of Light Armor as the Ranger, and most adult Greenies, and he had the helmet completely off. He chewed on a wad of gum as he steered the fast flyer towards the city, and the force field membrane entrance, as he said, “They were Lucky, your parents I mean, Sam being out there just 100 clicks from the crash.”

Roy just nodded.

Nick offered Roy a piece of gum, “You and that crazy Marine are the only ones who would dare to go that far into the thickets. I mean unprotected and all.”

Roy took the gum and said, as he unwrapped it, “I am not unprotected, I use the Thompson Ma Swanson gave me all the time, besides I am a Greenie.”

The tall flier mechanic slowed the flier to a full stop as a robot arm extended from the city’s Entry Ring and took the Toyo Flier, passing it underneath a curtain of high pressure superheated steam. This procedure was done three times as the flier was scanned and bathed in a lethal soup of chemicals and steamed off again. Only after almost ten minutes of intensive cleaning and checking, to make sure no Green Hell life form had clung to the outside and thus gained access to the inside of the city, the Flier was shoved in a debarking bay.

Nick extended his well wishes and Roy took the next Inter City Mover cabin and dialed for the Hospital.

He had been here a few times before and he knew the Head-doctor well, as he was Melissa's father. The city’s medical center was deep below the surface of the island and separated from the water of the lake by half a kilometer of solid rock and thick Ultronit walls.

Like the rest of the city, this level was well lit and there were wide corridors with silently moving slide belts that sneaked past islands of greenery, gurgling water spouts, open area seating areas, vendor booths, restaurants and bistros.

Everything was smooth and bright, plastee-skin covering the impenetrable Ultronit.

A group of three scantily clad girls, giggling and talking, passed him on the opposite slide belt as he approached the hospital.

He had seen them before at School. Although they were in a different class they were the same age as Roy. They were the daughters of researchers or technicians and had been on Green Hell at least a year or so and yet Roy was certain none of them had ever even taken a flier ride to see what was out there. Probably haven't even been to the observation platform on top of the city. Their dresses were of a fluttery shimmery material that did little to hide the developing bodies of sixteen year old humanoid females.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The girls of course noticed Roy. He was tall despite the higher gravitation of the planet, where true native Greenies tended to be a little more compact and stocky than the generation before; and if that ancient Earth sculptor Michelangelo had still been alive, he would ask Roy to model for his next masterpiece. His muscles were well developed and he had rock-hard, chiseled looking abs.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">He had the same sandy blond hair as his mother; and had also inherited his mother's high cheekbones and narrow, aristocratic looking nose. He got his pronounced lower jaw and the energetic looking chin with the cleft from his father. Most striking were the dark purple eyes he shared with his Grandmother.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">While Roy had just begun to notice girls, in the way young men did, the girls were more advanced in that regard. One of them, tall and thin with her hair dyed in a bright purple and cut in an asymmetrical short bob, jumped skillfully and changed Slide-belts. She gave Roy a deep stare from underneath her long lashes and said, “Hi, I am Nuki. Aren't you Roy Masters from Ms. Harshes class?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Roy blinked and wondered what she wanted and nodded, “Yes I am.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Nuki folded her hands upside down in front of the short skirt of her fluttery dress and asked, “My friends and I are going to see the new Star blazer Virtu and we wondered if you would like to come along?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“Sorry, I can't. My parents had an accident and I need to see how they are.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">She was clearly disappointed, but said, “Maybe we can do something another time.” With that she changed directions once more and rejoined her friends.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Roy left the slide belt a few moments later as he had reached the hospital entrance.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A receptionist greeted him in the lobby. The man was dressed in a white coverall and had the Med Symbol on his chest. He had dark blue skin and his hair had a metallic coppery color, the telltale hallmarks of a Thauran. The Med Tech held a PDD in clipboard mode and said with a friendly tone, “Good evening Citizen, how can I help you?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“I am Roy Masters and I understand my parents were brought here, after suffering injuries in an accident.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The blue skinned man pointed with his PDD to the left and down one of the corridors that branched off the lobby. “Your father is still in ReGen. We are growing him a completely new spine, which means that he is completely submerged, so patient interaction might be somewhat limited and your mother was discharged right away. She was virtually unharmed, save for a few mild contusions. She left about 50 minutes ago.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“She isn't here with my Dad?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The Thauran turned to look down the corridor he had pointed out, “Well there isn't much she could do for him and she said something about recovering data or something.” He shrugged and gave Roy a toothy smile. “Your Dad is in ReGen-4, just down that corridor and to the left.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0.35cm">***

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Roy found his father floating in a transparent horizontal cylinder bathed in bluish light. His face was covered by a dome shaped hemispherical thing. There was another ReGen tank next to the one with his father, where a two meter long, thick black slug-like life-form was in the process of sliding out of the empty tank. The big snail had a white tube-like garment around the upper part of its body and two underarm long feelers at what seemed to be the head.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The moist shimmering monstrosity said to Roy, using a small voice box attached to the white garment, “Oh good evening, you must be Roy. I am Dr. Herbs, the Neurosurgeon treating your father.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Roy stared at the large black snail oozing onto a small hover platform, “I am Roy, how is my Dad doing?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“Your Dad suffered fractures to the vertebral column and neuro-tissue damage to the spinal cord. That is the reason he is in the tank. He should be out and back to normal by tomorrow morning.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“So he is going to be alright?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“Indeed he will be. Human neural nets are quite simple really and hardly needed my attention, but since I was here anyway I took a hand in his surgical procedures and supervised the neuro-tissue grafting of the Expert Nanites myself.” The snail managed to make the Voice box sound very self-assured and confident.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Roy stepped closer to the tank that held his father and put a hand on the transparent material, “Can I talk to him?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The large mollusk-being guided the hover platform closer and stopped it next to Roy, then said, “Of course you could, but he requested a Virtu Connection Helmet and I think his Avatar is tele-present at some science meeting on Earth that he was very eager to attend.” The snail wiggled its feelers towards the one end of the room.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Roy's eyes followed the pointing move and he noticed a mobile GalNet Terminal that had been rolled in and placed at the far end of the ReGen tube. Its display flashed the words. 'In use - do not disturb’.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Roy, who knew his parents, actually should have expected something like that. They wasted no thoughts on him, invested very little emotions on themselves as a matter of fact. In moments like this he wondered how they ever found enough time to actually make love to each other, a necessary activity to explain his own existence. Especially since he was born the natural way and not in an ArtiWomb.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The Shail doctor appeared quite intuitive to human emotions however and said, “I am not just a Neuro Surgeon, you know. I am also a Councilor and Psychiatrist, if you ever need to talk you know where to find me.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Not taking his eyes off his father’s floating form Roy said, “Are you a telepath or something? I see no hands and no eyes you could use for surgery.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“It seems you either flunked the Union Xeno Class when the Shail were discussed, or they did not cover my kind yet. Thanks to the Pree we are sentient and thanks to Terran technology we can move at the speed our minds wish us to move and we do have hands.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">To demonstrate what it was saying, a dozen tentacles and intricate mechanical arms appeared all around him and underneath the hover sled; equipped with manipulators and what looked like an array of surgical instruments. The arms disappeared as fast as they had materialized.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Roy’s face had a sheepish expression as he said. “I flunked a few Xeno Classes until recently, I felt that learning about Off-World life forms was a waste of time, since we have so many here.” He kept looking at the Shail, “I see the error of my opinion and promise I will cerebral-upload Brillstein’s Guide to Sentient Life tonight.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“To answer your initial question, no, we Shail are not Telepathic or psionicly gifted. As a matter of fact we are Psi Inert, with the exception of perhaps the Narth, not even the Saresii can sense us or read us.” He wiggled his fleshy feelers with surprising speed and agility. “We communicate with these fellers among each other, we can sense the minutest changes in electrical and magnetic fields and we can smell and taste to a molecular level. It is the feelers that make us Shail the finest bio-chemists in the known Universe. I can sense the minutest chances of your neuro electric impulses when I am close enough to your bio-electric sphere and smell and analyze changes in the output of your glands. These abilities, my education as a medical doctor and several decades of experience as resident department specialist at Med Central on Pluribus enable me to read your mind without any Psionics and at least as well.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Roy found this amazing and said, “That is very impressive and I think the Ninja Weasels sense their environment in a similar way. They don’t have very good eyes, yet they are able to hunt at night.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“I smelled the Jungle on you.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">He wiggled his feelers once more and Eric left the hospital, knowing more about the Shail, instead of talking to his parents.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">***

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Martha glanced at her PDD and say that it displayed a message from Dr. Herbs informing her that Roy had been at the clinic, trying to see his parents The Shail physician had no qualms about expressing his concerns about her conduct. His recorded message said, “Dr. Masters, your son has been informed that his parents were involved in a serious accident and rushed to see his parents. He is a minor and received news of a potentially serious incident with both of his parents and yet you didn’t feel it was important enough to make sure he knew you are alright. No call, no attempt of yours to contact him at all. While I understand that you are a brilliant scientist in your chosen field, it is my professional opinion that your conduct as the maternal part of the human family social group lacks even the basic social consideration for the developing emotional needs of a teenager of your species.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">She closed the message and leaned back. The Shail was correct, all she had in mind after she returned to the city and was assured Paul would be alright, was to make sure the data they collected up to the time of the crash was securely transmitted to her lab and then to go over the incredible footage and data, of Lighting Bolters communicating and working together in an orchestrated attack. This certainly indicated higher cognitive abilities than she had previously believed was the case. She paused the image analyzer, with close ups of the Bolter’s nerve center. Paul had once again proven to be invaluable as an assistant and had focused the recording sensors on what was most important.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">She turned away, so her mind would not be distracted again by the now frozen images, and thumbed through the message menu of her PDD. There were over 30 calls and messages from Roy. Her PDD had automatically filtered Roy’s call to the ‘Not important folder’ as she didn’t want to be disturbed by silly children’s questions. The settings of that filter were eight years old. The call attempts became less frequent over time and the last recorded call of Roy to his mother was two years ago.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">She thumbed it open. “Hi Mom, this is Roy. I am not sure if you will get this message, but my teacher did not believe that my mother won’t take my calls. She is standing right next to me and I guess she believes it now.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Roy’s teacher came into view. “Ms. Masters I tried to call you but only got to leave messages. You have not attended a single parent teacher meeting, have ignored my letters and today your son got into a fight with two other students. He was injured and also inflicted injuries on the other boys. If you do not respond like a parent should, I will inform the Union School Board.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Martha noticed the large number of calls identified as calls from the school, they too were in the “Not important and to be ignored folder.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">At first she felt a flash of anger, as she had specifically asked Paul to take care of these matters and then she noticed she had ignored calls from her own mother too. Roy’s grandmother had been here on Green Hell just recently and in person, but she knew in reality that had been almost six year ago.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">She said, “Archie, I always knew I wasn’t exactly a good mother but evidence points toward a much more negative assessment.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Archie, her Lab Computronic AI, was named after Archie Carr, a famous Zoologist of Pre Astro Earth. He responded right away, “I am afraid I am unable to give you an adequate or meaningful response, but I can link with GalNet and see if there are Mother Evaluation scales or routines available to give you a more accurate assessment.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">She didn’t really think about Archie’s response, just stapled her fingers together and said, “It is probably too late but I will try to improve. I remember how my father and mother nurtured me and I realize I have deprived my own son of what I still hold dear. Archie, search GalNet on the subject of Mother values, improving mother–son relationships and relate it to expert literature as a filter, and do call Dr. Herbs, I want to get some advice from it.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Archie executed the request and while the he did that, his simulated personality made him say, “Is it genuine concern about your son or is this motivated by the fact that Dr. Herbs is a Hive of Minds member and his opinion of you could very well color his voice when your potential admission is discussed?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">***

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Paul, who had been released from the Med center the next morning, returned to their home inside the Research Outpost. He was greeted by Charles the robot as he cycled through the airlock and the decontamination system declared him free of any harmful organisms, “Good morning Master Paul.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Paul wasn’t attached to the robot at all, but he knew that the robot had quite certainly saved his life and, while it was a machine and did what it was supposed to do, for the first time in his life Paul thanked a machine. “I appreciate what you did Charles.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The robot’s omni-directional visual sensor eyes appeared to glow just a tad brighter for a fraction of a second, “It pleases this unit to see you up and well, Sir.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">An unfamiliar scent wafted from the central living area of the lower of the house. Paul raised his nose and said, “Is that bacon, I smell?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">What he then saw made him question his state of mind and for a moment he considered the possibility that he was dreaming and still in the ReGen tank. There, in the door frame of the kitchen, stood Martha, his wife, wearing an apron and holding a spatula, smiling at him, “While I am making us a traditional cooked breakfast, you can tell me how your surgery went and how you feel.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“I am not dreaming, right? The last time you made one of your famous breakfasts was … was before you worked on your dissertation.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“No you’re not dreaming. I was talking to Dr. Herbs and I read about being a mother all night and, while I am certain I can’t completely change who I am or make amends so late, I feel I can try to improve the time we have as a family before we have to leave.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Paul smirked, “Yes, the Shail gave me an earful as well and I too think he had a point.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">He moved closer to his wife and for the first time in years he saw her as a woman, not as a scientist and really paid attention to how pretty she was and remembered why he had noticed her at the University. He sneaked his arms around her hips and she didn’t resist, but said, “We can do that tonight, but right now I’ve got things cooking on the stove.” She turned her head, “I didn’t even know we had an actual stove unit here. All we’ve ever used was the food processor or Charles.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Paul let her go and wondered if the crash and the accident was a fortunate event. The idea of having fun in the bedroom later on was suddenly a very exciting prospect.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Martha said to Charles, “Robot, please wake Roy so we can have breakfast together.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“I am unable to comply, Ma’am. Roy left the premises at 0700, as he does every day on a School day, and was picked up.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">That dampened her mood and all her intentions of making a new start were thwarted by her own lack of knowledge about Roy’s daily routine.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Martha and Paul did sit down to a nice breakfast after all and Martha promised herself to visit the teacher later on and then sit down with Roy and talk to him.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Like the breakfast, her plans connecting with her son were thwarted by a call from the Ranger’s office.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Martha wiped some egg-yolk off her plate with a piece of toast and asked the house system to display the call right at the table. She expected it to be some follow up regarding the crash. The Communications projector established a field screen and the local ranger’s upper body and head appeared to float above the orange juice carafe and the coffee pot.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Paul who had stuffed himself, was feeling quite content and leant back while cradling his second cup of coffee. “Good morning Ranger Salomon. I have already filed a crash report and incident file with the Institute while I was in the ReGen tank, do you have any more questions on that?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“No Mr. Masters, the crash is of no concern to the Ranger Office. No laws were broken, no fatalities occurred and the crash report was properly filed. I am calling due to a different matter. It is about Roy.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Martha leaned forward, “What is it, Ranger? Did something happen at school?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Paul set the coffee mug down, ”Something happened with the flyer that picked him up?” Paul realized he didn’t even know exactly how Roy got to school or who exactly it was that picked him up and brought him back every day

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“Roy, my son and their small band of friends left school early today.” The Ranger obviously had difficulties finding the right way to say what he needed to and eventually just raised his hands into the visual pick up. “Mrs. and Mr. Masters, I would like you to come to Ma Swanson’s Boathouse today at noon. Your presence there is strongly advised as your son will be part of a very… very unusual demonstration. What will happen might very well be a historic event, at least for Green Hell.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Martha now actually leaned over the table, in an instinctive move to get closer to the Ranger’s image, “This isn’t some sort of school pageant or sporting event, right?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“Not exactly, Ma’am. I would not bother you with something like that. Everyone knows you don’t care much about your son’s activities.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">To Martha’s new view of things this was another sting she actually felt, “Yes Ranger, very recently I was made aware of our short comings and I am beginning to see that I have been a very poor mother, but I really think you need to tell us where Roy is and what is going on.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The Ranger took a deep breath. “The kids will walk from the Rocks to Ma Swanson’s Boathouse and they will be accompanied by local life forms!”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Paul tipped the coffee mug over and Martha, with her chin dropped to her chest looked not at all like a cool detached scientist. “Did you say walk? You mean walk outside?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Paul nervously reached for a napkin to prevent more coffee from dripping on his pants, “Roy doesn’t have an Armor Suit and has never been outside before. You must prevent him from leaving the city. He has these foolish fantasies of being able to go outside, he is trying to prove something to us.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Ranger Salomon sneered at the Masters, barely containing his contempt, “I see he was was telling the truth, he did tell you. I suggest you bring chairs, you might otherwise fall over with what you’re going to witness in a few hours.”