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"Purgatory" – Chapter 3
Rating: PG (Violence, Strong Language, Adult Situations, Brutal Survival Techniques, Frightening Old Ladies) Note: Vulcan terms used in this story were taken from the online Vulcan Language Dictionary, the Vulcan Language Institute, or I made them up myself. A/N: Feel free to copy, archive and/or distribute this story as long as you don't sell it. If I am not allowed to make money off it, nobody else is either. And that includes Paramount or anybody else associated with Star Trek. The characters and setting are theirs. My original ideas belong to me.
Chapter 3 Phlox took a long, savoring sip of his tea and looked out the window of Kerlek’s study. The stars as seen from this planet were an amazing sight to behold. The vision of Vulcan’s night sky never failed to inspire him. The mellow golden glow T’Khut brought out gentle highlights along the walls and plantings of Kerlek’s grounds. To Phlox’s Denobulan vision, the night was dimly but adequately lit. He could plainly see the main gate to Kerlek’s property from where he stood. Behind him, Kerlek set his cup down with a faint click, reminding him that his host was no doubt seething with impatience. He smiled, turned around and said, “Once I started cross-referencing items in the Human historical database, it all fell into place rather neatly.” He put his cup down with a smug expression and handed Kerlek the data chip. The Vulcan Healer leaned across the low table and took it with unconcealed eagerness. Just this once, he wasn’t going to worry about propriety. Besides, he was in the privacy of his own home. If he couldn’t let himself relax here, where could he relax?
After examining T’Lissa, the two of them had left Kerlek’s office and spent a considerable amount of time in Kerlek’s private lab, engrossed in studying the analysis results for the genetic samples he had taken from T’Lissa, T’Pol, and Trip. Phlox was entranced as the data scrolled past on the display screen. With ever increasing enthusiasm the Denobulan remarked on each nucleic acid linkage that showed up in common. Finally the last of the results had been displayed and Phlox turned to Kerlek, almost trembling with reaction. “My dear colleague,” he said, with a faint quaver in his voice, “do you realize the impact of this? Can you imagine what reaction this is going to have on both your world and on Earth?” Kerlek nodded soberly. “Indeed I can, Doctor. Hence my reluctance to reveal anything at all until both of us have checked and confirmed everything .” He paused. “I believe it would also be of inestimable assistance if we could at least offer a tentative hypothesis as to how and why this might have happened. I have studied the information you sent, and it seems that you may have discovered some key information. Were you able to learn any more?” “In fact I was,” Phlox told him. “Quite an extensive amount actually. Do you have someplace where we can sit down and get comfortable?” “It is approaching the hour for the evening meal,” Kerlek mentioned. “Perhaps you would honor me by dining at my home?” The two of them had wolfed down a scant meal that neither of them tasted, and then retreated to Kerlek’s study with a pot of tea and, in Phlox’s case, a satchel full of research material.
“My first objective,” Phlox mentioned while Kerlek inserted the data disk into his console, “was to double check the original sources of the information I sent you, and to confirm its accuracy.” “Of course,” Kerlek agreed, activating the large viewscreen on the wall as he spoke. “Less than a year ago, the official position of the Science Directorate was that Human and Vulcan DNA were completely incompatible. For the two of us to go before the Review Board now and make the claim that the two races are not only compatible, but in fact share common ancestry, will require... persuasive... evidence indeed.” “I believe that the cumulative total of the evidence we have gathered, and are continuing to gather, will be sufficient to persuade anyone,” Phlox retorted smugly. “Some of the archaeological data may be circumstantial, true. But it is internally consistent and it fits, as my Human colleagues in the Interspecies Medical Exchange used to say, like a glove. And the genetic data you have gathered is irrefutable Kerlek. Not even the most hidebound of your superiors can deny your results.” “You have never met my superiors,” Kerlek muttered, half to himself. “Although there has been some mainstream acceptance of the theory that all humanoid life in the quadrant might share commonality of origin.” “Yes, I recall that theory.” Phlox's face brightened. “I believe several scientists on various different worlds came up with the idea independently, did they not? It was developed to explain the ubiquitous presence of so many humanoid species.” “Indeed.” Kerlek looked thoughtful. “On our world, Healer Sevtel of the Tehr'Diahl Center for Genetic Research made some calculations. He concluded that the probability of so many bipedal, warm blooded, four limbed, bilaterally symmetrical species, standing upright by using a vertical spine with horizontal ribs and a horizontal pelvis, and... well I won't enumerate the details. You know them as well as I. Sevtel concluded that the odds of so many races developing so many identical features independently via parallel evolution were on the close order of 1 in 1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000.” “Even if the theory is correct,” Phlox said, “there is no way to disprove it. If some alien humanoid race a billion years ago went about the galaxy spreading their seed like farmers, we have no way of ever knowing for sure. How can we test it? If a theory can't be tested, it is scientifically meaningless.” He paused significantly. “But this my friend. This can be tested. These results can be tested and proven.” He leaned forward in excitement and smacked his hand on his knee in excitement. “To a limited extent,” Kerlek cautioned him. “We can prove that some nucleic acid linkages in the Human genome are an identical match for the functionally equivalent linkages in the Vulcan genome. But so far, that is all we can prove.” “No, my dear Kerlek,” Phlox insisted. “We can prove something else. We can prove that 70,000 years ago, something drastic happened on Earth. Something that changed Humans forever - physically, mentally, and behaviorally. We can prove that every Human alive today, every Human that carries the Vulcan genetic material you found, is descended from a base population of refugees who survived the worst catastrophic event in Human history. This is not theory my friend, this is fact.” “Tell me.” Kerlek concentrated hard as Phlox began explaining. Phlox took a deep breath. “Despite external appearances, Humans are genetically quite homogenous. There is greater genetic diversity among the Vulcan citizens in the city of Shi’Kahr alone than there is in the entire Human species.” “Really...” Kerlek looked stunned. “But their appearance is so variable.” “It’s quite true, I assure you,” Phlox told him. “The physical variations in skin tone, hair texture, body type, features, and so forth are the result of only a minuscule fraction of the Human genome. They are accumulated mutations due to the Founder Effect, after various Human populations were left geographically isolated from each other by oceans and mountain ranges.” “You mean that they all originated from a single population center?” Kerlek asked. “You told me that the base population was less than 10,000, which is difficult to believe in and of itself. But...” “Yes.” Phlox took a sip of his tea. “However, from what I have been able to determine, the 10,000 survivors were not the only Humans who lived through the disaster.” He stopped, looking uncomfortable. “I don't understand,” Kerlek’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. “What happened to the others?” Phlox rubbed his lip. “Let me lead into this. All will become clear eventually.” Phlox reached over and pressed a button. “Research into this began in the twentieth century. Human geneticists calculated that their race underwent a drastic population bottleneck at some point in the relatively recent past. Researchers then postulated that anything capable of causing such a massive population drop would leave traces in the geologic record, so they went looking.” “I take it they found something?” “They did indeed my friend,” Phlox assured him. “Observe the screen please.” Kerlek obediently turned to face the monitor as Phlox adjusted controls. A picture of Earth as seen from orbit appeared, zooming down to center over a caldera lake near the equator. Phlox intoned in his lecturer voice. “Human populations 70,000 years ago consisted entirely of roaming hunter/gatherer clans. Some kind of natural catastrophe was the most likely culprit. A sudden climate shift seemed like the only thing that could have affected so many small groups, so widely scattered across the surface of the planet, simultaneously.” “A sudden climate shift.” Kerlek said. “Did such a thing occur?” “Many times in Earth’s capricious history,” Phlox said. “For various reasons, some of which remain a mystery. In this case, a mountain exploded.” “I beg your pardon?” Kerlek stared. “The area you are looking at is a volcanic cauldron named Lake Toba. Approximately 71,000 years ago, Mount Toba erupted with an explosive force equal to the power of nine photonic torpedoes being detonated at once.” Kerlek couldn’t stop the reflexive twitch. Phlox paused for a moment to give his friend time to collect himself, then continued. “The resultant eruption expelled 2,800 cubic kilometers of volcanic ash into Earth’s atmosphere, blocking sunlight and causing a drastic cooling effect. In addition, sulfuric acid haze deposited in the upper atmosphere presented a long term barrier to solar radiation. Fossil evidence indicates massive plant die-offs. Polar ice cores clearly show a sudden and sustained drop in planetary oxygen levels. Earth’s average temperature plunged by as much as 12 degrees Centigrade and for a period of at least six full years there was no summer at all. Following this, the planet entered into the coldest Ice Age in Human history. For a thousand years, the ancestors of modern Humans endured cold such as they had never encountered before in their entire existence as a species.” “That sounds...” Kerlek took hold of himself. “That is most distressing to hear. I would imagine that the Humans of the time found adapting to the new conditions quite stressful.” “That my friend,” Phlox’s voice sharpened, “is where the story becomes intensely interesting.”
Trip was chewing himself out. “A pair of gloves. A pair of gloves and a hat. Would that have been too much for you to pack along? T’Pol said that you could, quote, ‘take any kind of garment that you were wearing at the start of the test’, unquote. She repeated it several times, like she was trying to make a point, you numb skull. You knew perfectly well that she wasn’t allowed to give you direct instructions on what to take or not to take. This is supposed to be a test of your judgment as well as your stamina. Fool!” He coughed and spat out another mouthful of dust. Might as well quit grouching about the sombrero. At least he did have the hood on his robe. But Trip was really, Really, REALLY starting to regret not having sense enough to fetch along a pair of work gloves. He stopped to take a slug of water and assess the situation. A third of the night was gone, but he had finally caught sight of the cap stone that marked the beginning of the trail into the foothills. The cliff face to his right blended upward and became one with the rising landscape at a point three or four kilometers ahead of Trip’s current position. The dirt under his feet was coarser and darker than before, and strewn with sharp edged rocks that looked volcanic. Half a kilometer ahead of him, the twin pillars rose with the cap rock perched shakily across their top. To Trip, it looked like one good sneeze would bring it down. He privately resolved to stifle any coughing fit while passing under it, no matter how dusty the trail might be. Time to quit dreading it and bite the bullet. The discolorations were becoming more scarce as he advanced into the highlands, where bedrock rose closer to the surface. He needed to get the job done before he ran out of material to work with. Trip sighed. Nothing on this planet ever came easy. Food, water, clothes, tools, mates. Everything had to be fought for. Everything. He shook his head and grunted in disgust. “Quit whining Tucker. Step one, extract head from ass. Step two, point aforementioned head at target. Step three, acquire rope.” He headed for the nearest likely looking patch, screwing up his nerve as he went. The spot was about a meter across, and the same color as the dark volcanic sand. Only the texture varied, and that wasn't by much. If it weren't for Trip's Human night vision he might have walked right over it. Which was, after all, the whole idea. In daylight it would have been perfectly safe to do so. The Marnik withdrew below the surface at the first touch of the sun's rays and let the loose sand at the mouth of its burrow cave in on top of itself. As long as the light shone Trip, or any other animal, could walk, sit, or even lay down and take a nap on top of the spot with perfect impunity. But when darkness fell and the cool night air awakened the creature from dormancy... things changed. Trip grunted. Might as well get it over with. He needed rope to get through the mountains, no two ways about it. Out here, there was only one way to get it. He looked around and found a rock that looked serviceable. About half a meter across, and as heavy as he could lift and toss without getting dangerously close. Trip hugged it to his chest and sidestepped painfully toward the Marnik, watching with paranoid suspicion for any sign of movement. As he closed in Trip could see the spot more clearly. Roughly ovoid, it was subdivided into quarters by two irregular cracks. The perimeter was bordered by a wide band of material twisted in a pattern reminiscent of a Celtic braid. If Trip let his eyes try to follow any single line he started to get dizzy and lose track of himself. He blinked and shook his head angrily. Tired and thirsty he might be, but that was no excuse. “Focus, Tucker,” he told himself. “You are not here to admire the thing.” Trip shifted his grip and raised the stone over his head in quivering arms. He bent his knees slightly, took a deep breath, and heaved it straight at the center of the oval spot. Then he instantly dropped and rolled frantically away as fast as he could. Behind him, he heard a dull crack like an huge egg splitting, followed by a snapping rustle.
Phlox continued, “In order to explain just how interesting, I must veer away from the Mount Toba disaster and give you a brief overview of Human evolution up to that point.” “By all means, proceed.” Kerlek leaned back and interlaced his fingers. Phlox paused a moment to gather his thoughts. “Considering the rapid, almost dizzying pace of recent Human progress you might find it difficult to believe that their development began very slowly. The story of early Human development is almost placid in its plodding progress.” “Placid?” Kerlek cleared his throat. ‘Forgive me. Somehow ‘placid’ is not a word that I have ever associated overmuch with Humans. No offense intended to any Human of our mutual acquaintance.” “I doubt that any of them would be offended,” Phlox flashed his trademark grin. “But facts are facts. More than two and a half million years ago an ape stood up on its hind legs and picked up a rock.” He leaned over and manipulated the monitor controls. The picture of Mount Toba was replaced by a skull. “This was discovered by archaeologists on the continent of Africa, which is believed to be where the Human species originated.” Kerlek dropped his hands to his lap and leaned forward. Phlox punched another button and the picture was replaced by a new skull. “A million and a half years later that ape’s descendants were peeling flakes off similar rocks and using fire to cook their meat. Note the slightly higher forehead.” “That sounds like a reasonable time interval,” Kerlek objected. “Not unusually slow, nor unusually fast.” “True,” Phlox allowed. “But they were not yet Human at that stage. Even though modern archaeologists class those creatures as members of the same genus as modern Humans, homo , their brains were no more than half the size of modern Earth people. ” He continued. “You will note the sloping forehead and prominent brow ridges. Note also that the face extends somewhat forward of the brain case, and that the chin does not protrude. Another interesting fact is that sexual dimorphism was significantly more pronounced than it is in modern Humans, with males being up to 30% larger than females. This is typical of the broad category of animals that Humans belong to, called primates. It was also common among all Human ancestors, except for modern Humans.” Kerlek leaned forward looking fascinated. Phlox adjusted the controls further and another picture took form next to the skull. “This is an artist’s rendering of the creature’s appearance when it was alive. Over the course of time they gradually morphed into at least two, and perhaps more, distinct types of Human.” “There is a resemblance. But still...” Kerlek paused in confusion and looked at him. “But I thought you said that Humans were genetically homogeneous.” “They are,” Phlox told him grimly. “The other types of Human are extinct.” “Ah,” Kerlek nodded understanding and returned to looking at the screen. “In any case,” Phlox went on, “It wasn’t until 500,000 years ago that a being came along that Earth scientists feel confident in calling fully Human.” Kerlek blinked several times and his forehead wrinkled. “Five... hundred thousand years?” He looked exceedingly puzzled. “It took them five hundred thousand years to go from savagery to the stars? That makes no sense at all, Dr. Phlox. Their own recorded history clearly shows that Humans advanced from crude animal powered agriculture, to starships, in less than five hundred years. Are you telling me that it took them 499,500 years to move from hunting and gathering to agriculture?” “Hardly,” Phlox said dryly. “This is where the interesting part comes in.”
It was ironic and frustrating in the extreme. T'Pol firmly maintained her grip on the third level of meditation and continued to focus on her adun. She could feel his mind clearly through the bond. She could also clearly feel the purity of focus that he had struggled so long and so hard to achieve. That clear and focused concentration on the task at hand was what prevented her from breaking into his conscious thought patterns. Had she been a Human woman, T'Pol might have screamed with frustration. When she and Trip were separated in the early days of their bond, she could not even meditate in peace without finding him accidentally stumbling into her white space. Or as Trip consistently maintained, finding her interrupting his work with daydreams. But now, after much training and practice under T'Para's tutelage, Trip had become quite adept at focusing his mental processes and keeping the bond under control. She wanted to hit something. Now of all times, he had to start displaying discipline and self-control. Now, when she needed urgently to communicate with him, to warn him about the assassins that were pursuing him. NOW he was exhibiting an almost Vulcan-like display of mental control. T'Pol retained enough objectivity to detect the grim humor in the situation. But she felt no urge to laugh. Instead she returned to her effort with renewed determination.
“Ma-mek! Unt Ma-Mek!” T’Lissa made a lightning lunge straight out of Hoshi's arms like a fresh caught trout, landing belly first across the low table and promptly taking off in a beeline for the far doorway, in the direction where her mother had disappeared half an hour earlier. Hoshi dove and snagged one ankle, barely in time to prevent a header off the far edge. She grunted with effort and pulled the determined little wrestler back into her lap. “Honey, your momma is meditating. She will be back in a few minutes. OK?” Hoshi cooed somewhat urgently and rocked. T’Lissa was not impressed. “Unt-Uh Hachi! Unt Ma-Mek!” The rampant hooligan displayed her Vulcan temper by baring her teeth and attempting to sink all five of them into Hoshi’s wrist. “Ow! Why you little!” Hoshi hissed and pried her wounded arm loose, examining it suspiciously for signs of blood loss. T’Lissa hadn’t quite managed to get that far, but not for lack of effort. Foiled at making a run for it, and unable to chew her way free, the little one started a session of head butting and kicking, with a drastically elevated volume to advertise her growing wrath. “T’Lissa.” One word. The baby froze into place instantly. Hoshi blinked and looked up at T’Para, who had just walked in from the front door. The Eldest wore a look of bland non-approval which somehow managed to make Hoshi very nervous. “I screwed up. I made us look bad,” she thought frantically. “I couldn’t even control a little baby long enough for her mom to go meditate. T’Pol is going to be embarrassed at inviting me to stay. Shit.” T’Para strolled into the room and placed her branch of fragrant herbal shrub on the table. {“T’Lissa, Daughter of my Clan.”} The old lady spoke in formal High Vulcan as if she were addressing an adult. {“Thy behavior dishonors thyself, thy House, and thy Clan. Cease at once.”} Hoshi watched flabbergasted as the baby drew back and actually looked chastened. She turned and burrowed her face into Hoshi’s shoulder, sniffling. A faint whimper of, “Ma-mek,” emerged but that was all. “Oh, Baby,” Hoshi hugged her and patted her back. “It’s going to be ok. Really it will. She’ll be back soon. Meantime, do you want to play a game with me?” she asked brightly. T’Lissa’s head emerged from Hoshi’s armpit looking mildly hopeful. “Kame?” “Yes, a game,” Hoshi confirmed. “It’s a naming game. I want you to tell me the names of things. And the things that you don’t know, I will tell you. Then you tell them back to me. Would you like to try that?” “Yiss!” A happy squeal and a clap signaled a major mood change. The two of them spent the next twenty or so minutes pointing to various common objects and describing them. When they ran out of things in the main living area, Hoshi started carrying T’Lissa around the front hallway and kitchen, to her delight. T’Para watched and listened with deep interest, taking mental notes.
“In any case,” Phlox hurried on, “The first Human ancestors began to use fire about a million years ago. From that point up to about 500,000 years ago, they developed several other innovations including improved stone tools, and the invention of watercraft. But their superficial appearance changed only slightly.” Kerlek nodded. “At this point,” Phlox said with a sigh, “the fossil trail becomes tangled and very muddy. There is endless debate about exactly which bloodline led where. What is known is that one branch migrated northward out of Africa and into Europe, where they eventually evolved into a type of Human called Neanderthal. The remaining Humans, a type most generally referred to as Erectus, spread out across Africa and Asia. And then they sat there. For over 400,000 years.” “By ‘sat there’ you mean what, exactly?” Kerlek asked with a raised eyebrow. “I mean that they basically lived their lives from generation to generation as they had always done,” Phlox told him. “In Europe, Neanderthal Humans developed a largely carnivorous way of life focused around hunting the large animals that roamed their homeland. In 400,000 years they changed almost nothing. The tools and weapons that archaeologists have discovered and dated from 50,000 years ago are, in functional terms, equivalent to the tools and weapons that were in use more than 300,000 years earlier.” Kerlek stared, speechless. Phlox took a sip of his cooling tea and looked amused. “Doesn’t sound like typical Human behavior, does it?” Kerlek’s mouth worked silently for a moment. He finally managed, “No. It does not.” The Healer reached for the pot and refilled both of their cups. “What of the other Humans, the ones that had spread out to the other areas?” “Essentially the same story,” the Denobulan told him smugly. “The tools and weapons that have been unearthed in association with Erectus show no significant advancement in function. There are slight changes over time, but nothing that really makes a difference in the way they were used. Of course there were variations, just as there were slight regional variations in the morphology of the people themselves. But as a general rule everyone on the planet lived the same way, hunted and gathered using the same kind of tools and weapons that their ancestors had always used, for more than a third of a million years. There was no meaningful technological advancement at all.” “Astonishing.” Kerlek returned his attention to the screen and stared thoughtfully at the long dead face, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “You really mean... no improvements at all?” He sounded incredulous. Phlox shrugged and waved a hand in a dismissive way. “It depends on how you define improvements. Archaeologists debate on the importance of whether the edge of a fist ax was made by beating on one side of a rock, or beating on both sides. Some people argue that it shows more sophistication when a tool is made by knocking chunks off a larger rock, as opposed to breaking the bigger rock down to size.” He snorted and looked at Kerlek. “But ultimately does it matter? Either way, what you end up with is a sharp rock. Experts might be able to tell the difference, but I have looked at visuals of the various specimens, and I can't see any functional advantages.” Phlox said meaningfully, “That is... until Toba exploded.” “At which point,” Kerlek filled in, “they were forced to change their behavior patterns to survive.” “No.” Phlox said bluntly. “They did not. Neanderthal, for example, continued as they had always done. There is no evidence of any major disruption to their routine. The same for Erectus settlements throughout southeastern Europe and Asia.” Kerlek came as close to staring in shock as it was possible for a Vulcan to achieve. “It wasn’t the Toba eruption that caused them to change,” Phlox told him significantly. “Something else was responsible. And it happened in Africa.”
Trip heard the thrashing die down gradually. When things finally settled to the point of an occasional rustle, he gingerly lifted his head and peered over his arm. The Marnik’s vine tentacles lay spread out in a twitching sprawl around the center of the creature, where Trip’s stone was still heaving back and forth. He raised up a little higher and saw that three sides of the Marnik’s beak were crushed under the impact of his attack. The fourth side of the hooked beak flipped and snapped frantically at the granite chunk, trying desperately to either break or dislodge it. Not much chance of that happening though. Trip finally started breathing again. The Marnik wasn’t very powerful. It depended on its poisoned tentacles to wrap and stun the prey, then dragged its catch into the center where thousands of needle spines worked constantly up and down to rip and chew the helpless animal, while the four sided beak held it immobile. Anything that still had the power of movement could readily shred a Marnik and fight its way free. Too bad nothing on Vulcan could withstand a Marnik's paralyzing venom. Trip painfully dragged himself to his feet. “Now the fun starts,” he thought. He scooped up a handful of smaller stones and started lobbing them underhanded at the tentacles, aiming for the tips. His aim wasn't the best, but he wasn't worried about it. All he needed now was perseverance. Eventually Trip managed to land rocks onto all of the vine tentacles, rocks heavy enough to keep them pinned to the ground while he went to work with his knife. “Whew,” he thought, wiping his forehead. “Finally. Took long enough. T'Pol would have been done with all of it and back on the trail by now.” He grimaced as he recalled the evening when T'Pol took him out into the desert to demonstrate the technique. She briskly strode over the sand, probing every shadow with her light until Trip asked her to wait a minute. He had her turn it off and let his eyes adjust, then walked directly over to the nearest Marnik. “Is this one?” he remembered asking her. She turned the light back on and looked. “Yes, it is husband. And you are standing entirely too close to it. Back away at least two additional meters immediately.” Trip made haste to comply. T'Pol handed Trip the light and instructed him to observe closely. He observed closely all right. He had watched with slack-jawed disbelief when she picked up a boulder that Trip suspected would have ruptured him, and slung it forcefully into the center of the creature. She scored a perfect bull's-eye of course. No leftover beak fragments for her... He shook his head and got back to work. First, cut off the tentacles from the main body of the plant. His little synthetic diamond blade went through the tough fibers like butter. Once that was done Trip relaxed. The Marnik was literally defanged now. As long as he had sense enough not to scratch himself on a thorn, or jump into the critter's mouth, he was safe. Then he had to cut off the main hooks at the far end of the vine tentacles, being careful not to touch them. The next part was the reason Trip started berating himself again for not bringing gloves. The smaller thorns along each vine had to be sliced off individually, just like a trimming a rose. But instead of a small scratch, this briar would paralyze his autonomic nervous system and stop his heart in about three seconds. Whispering curses at himself in a monotonous undertone, Trip gingerly picked up the first vine between two fingers and got to work. The job took a lot longer than it should have, but Trip finally ended up with a couple of dozen lengths of peeled vine, each about a centimeter in diameter and ranging from half a meter to two meters in length. He grabbed up the nearest one and started forcing the pulp out, like squeezing toothpaste out of a tube. It stank like three day old fish. Trip gagged his way through the whole pile, stopping only twice to heave his empty stomach a little. Once that was done the worst was over. He debated taking a breather, but decided to go ahead and finish knotting them together while he was already nauseous. The vines were limber and soft while green. Once they dried, with the pulp removed, they would shrink and harden like rawhide. The knots Trip tied would bind the joints together as tightly as if they were welded, and he would have a continuous rope. Trip remembered T'Pol demonstrating how strong the Marnik vine rope was - by insisting that he agree to rappel with her over a small cliff near their house. Both of them. One one single strand of knotted vine. He still shuddered at the memory. As a last minute thought, Trip left out three pieces of vine, each about a meter long. Once the rope was done he found three fist sized stones and tied them securely to the ends of the short vines. Then he took the free ends of the vines and knotted them together several times to make a large, hard knot that he could easily grab. Trip picked up his improvised bola and eyed it dubiously. “Oh well,” he muttered, “nothing ventured, nothing gained.” Trip brought his arm around in a circling motion and attempted to swing the bola in imitation of a movie he had seen once. The vine strands promptly flew apart and went their separate ways, one of them striking him on the thigh, one whirling around his ribcage and hitting him in the center of the back, and the third merely winding itself around his arm several times. “Right. Figures.” He sighed. “Why is it,” he implored the night sky,” that in books and movies the hero only has to pick up a weapon he has never seen before, and instantly he is an expert with it? Why can't I do that? Huh? It isn't fair I tell you. When I get up there I am filing a grievance with somebody, you hide and watch. See if I don't.” Trip turned and started coiling his rope in resignation while he glared at the bola. “Maybe I can wave it at a Le'Matya and distract it long enough to let me make a power dive over the nearest ledge,” he pondered hopefully. “Anyway, practicing with it will give me something to do besides missing T'Pol and T'Lissa.” He tossed the coiled rope over one shoulder, his canteen over the other, picked up his useless “weapon” and headed for the cap rock. Fatigue was digging into his back and legs. Harvesting the Marnik had taken more time and energy than Trip expected. He devoutly hoped that he found a nice narrow ledge with a deep overhang pretty quick once he got into the hills. Tomorrow was going to be a long day. No sense letting it get him down though. Attitude was important in a situation like this. “Think cheerful Tucker”, he muttered. “Think happy thoughts.” He ran through a list of songs that wouldn't require too much concentrating.
Riley and Sanchez watched with deep interest as Trip did battle with the carnivorous plant. Riley in particular snorted and shook his head. “What in the name of all that is stupid is he doing ?” he whispered. Sanchez chuckled. “Don't jump to conclusions, take another look.” Riley obediently lifted his binoculars and focused in on Trip, cutting and trimming vines. “Oh. So that's it. I sit corrected.” He glanced at Sanchez. “Guess I'M not as smart as I thought I was.” Behind and above the two of them, as they crouched behind a low boulder near the base of a talus slope, something moved. If either of them had been looking in that direction, they would have seen nothing specific. At most, they might have caught a flicker like heat waves. A bare trace of dust and pebbles shifted, looking as if something were being dragged across them. There was no sound. Sanchez choked and put his face in his hand when Trip made his abortive swing. Riley grinned at him. “Remind you of home?” he whispered. Sanchez nodded. “Yeah, it does. Of course, back home the gauchos ride hover bikes and use stun rods now. But my grandfather was big on preserving heritage. He was bound and determined that none of his grandsons were going to grow up not knowing how to use a bola. First time I tried to swing one I almost knocked myself out, just like Tucker there.” Riley snorted. “This whole ritual is a sack of shit, if you ask me. What's the point of making a Human do this anyway? I don't understand why the Vulcans make their own kids do it either. But a Human? Come on.” He watched as Trip moved gradually closer to their hiding place. If he maintained his present course, he could pass within 20 paces of where the two SpecOps were hiding. They pulled back and got low, staying barely high enough to keep watch. Suddenly Trip stopped. Both watchers froze, tension detailing every line of their bodies. Trip blinked and shook his head. They watched carefully as he stood perfectly still for a slow count of fifty before relaxing. Trip stood where he was for a moment longer. Then he started moving again, but for some reason he seemed more wary. The watchers saw him examining their boulder with particular attention, as well as every other potential hiding place in the area. Trip veered away from the talus slope, staying well out in the open and glancing back at frequent intervals. The soldiers traded mystified looks and shrugs. Trip proceeded carefully across the sand, headed for the upright stones. His bodyguards followed in short bursts, moving swiftly from one point of cover to another in a low crouch. On the slope above, the area of distortion drifted along, keeping pace with the three of them.
“Doctor Phlox,” Kerlek said gently. The Denobulan stopped rubbing his eyes and raised his head with a wan expression. “I concede that this has been a fascinating excursion into Human evolution. Yet I cannot help but gain the impression that there is something that you are trying very hard not to tell me. We came here, ostensibly, to discuss how Vulcan DNA might have been introduced into the Human genome. Thus far we have discussed almost every possible aspect of Human history except that subject.” Phlox gave him an unhappy look. “You are correct, Healer Kerlek,” he finally admitted in a formal tone, punctuated with a sigh. “I have been dreading this, although it is not as if there is anything shameful about it. It is merely historical fact, well known and long documented. Nor do I believe that you will find it surprising, for a variety of reasons.” Kerlek raised both eyebrows. “After that statement, I fear that I cannot allow you to escape tonight until you have explained this – in complete detail.” Phlox grimaced, then nodded. “All right,” he said in sudden decision, turning back to the controls of the viewscreen. Phlox pressed a few keys and a row of boxes appeared on the screen. In the first box, a picture of the early proto-Human hominid appeared. “As I said before,” Phlox mentioned, “this creature is estimated to have lived approximately 2.5 million years ago. Actually, they lived from 2 to almost 3 million years ago. They were were quite successful in their day. This being is considered one of the earliest sapient, or at least semi-sapient, ancestors of modern Humans.” Kerlek murmured encouragingly, “Understood.” Phlox pressed another key, and a second picture appeared in the next box. “This being lived about one million years ago, and is believed to have been the first ancestor of Humans to routinely use fire.” He added a third picture to the row. “Approximately half a million years ago, they advanced to a point where modern Earth people are willing to call them, somewhat grudgingly I think, fully Human. This is Homo Erectus, aka Erect Man. But look at them Kerlek.” The Vulcan Healer leaned forward and examined the row of pictures intently. “I can see the gradual changes,” he remarked. “The skull is getting higher and larger, the jaw is shrinking.” “But,” Phlox interjected. “Does it really look like a modern Human? Honestly?” Kerlek absently scratched the bridge of his nose. “There are some differences in evidence,” he said reservedly. “But as you said, it was half a million years ago.” “Then how about this,” Phlox asked him. He added another picture to the series. “A hundred thousand years later, or about 400,000 years ago, Neanderthal Humans split away from Erectus and began their long sojourn in Europe. Note the close resemblance. Neanderthal maintained essentially the same appearance, and the same behavior patterns, throughout the entire lifespan of their species.” “As you have said before,” Kerlek said, with badly strained patience. “So where did modern Humans come from?” Phlox drew in a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. “Erectus spent half a million years gradually spreading out to cover all of the available landmass of Eurasia. But a substantial number of them also remained in Africa. When Toba exploded and the Super Ice Age hit, so much of the planet's water was frozen and locked into ice that equatorial regions like northern Africa became desiccated. In fact, the climate around the Humans' original homeland looked very similar to Vulcan for quite some time.” He shot Kerlek a look. “You believe this to be significant?” Kerlek asked him. “It might be,” Phlox replied. “Obviously, Vulcan genetic material did not simply fly through interstellar space and implant itself into Humans. Some space faring race had to deliberately choose to do this. I have spent many long hours trying to figure out why.” “Perhaps they were conducting an experiment,” Kerlek suggested. “Either for their own benefit, or out of simple curiosity.” “Perhaps,” Phlox conceded. “Or perhaps they had kindlier motives. I personally would prefer to believe that theory, since we have no evidence either way. I hope that they came across the survivors of the Toba explosion, analyzed the situation, and realized that with such a reduced population the danger of genetic drift would virtually ensure extinction. They wanted to preserve the Humans so they looked around and, conveniently, a mere 16 light years away they found a humanoid race with a rich fund of compatible genetic material to borrow from.” Kerlek listened and nodded. “It seems as logical an explanation as any other. So you hypothesize that these... Preservers... if you will... decided to infuse the borrowed genetic material into the Humans living in Africa at the time because the climate there most closely matched that of Vulcan?” “That is my preferred theory, yes.” Phlox admitted. “Here, look at this.” He added two more pictures to the display. One was very similar to the first Erectus visage, the next was a picture of a modern Human. “Erectus did change, very slightly, up to just before the Toba explosion. The next to last picture is of a creature that is the subject of argument. Some Human archaeologists still call it Erectus. Others insist that it is different enough to deserve its own name, and call it Afarensis. To me, the fact that it is similar enough to cause an ongoing argument means that the argument is meaningless. But there it is.” Kerlek tilted his head with interest. “I see. The brow ridges do appear to be somewhat smaller.” “Somewhat,” Phlox acknowledged dryly. “But I invite you to examine the row of images as a group. Starting with the far left and working your way along to the modern Human on the end. Tell me, looking at the modern Human, who does he most resemble? His own blood grandparent, Afarensis? His own blood cousin, Neanderthal? Or a modern Vulcan?” “The answer is blatantly obvious, Phlox,” Kerlek said flatly. “Now.” He stood up. “Doctor Phlox,” The Vulcan Healer looked down at the Denobulan and spoke with soft firmness. “It is equally obvious that you are almost desperate to avoid discussing something. You have spent the entire evening evading and diverting the course of the conversation into one side track after another. You are my guest and I will not press you, although I confess to disappointment. I can only ask that when we are able to speak again that you are willing to discuss the matter.” He stood looking down at Phlox, while the Denobulan rubbed his face with both hands and avoided looking at him. Finally, Phlox raised his head wearily and said in a sad voice, “Please sit down Healer Kerlek. I will tell you. Afterward, you will understand why I have been avoiding this. But I promise you, no more evasions. Please. Sit.” Kerlek looked narrowly at him for a moment, then nodded and sat. Phlox opened and closed his hands a few times, took a deep breath, and began. “After the Super Ice Age caused by the Toba explosion faded, the Humans in Africa took some time to replenish their population and re-establish themselves on the home continent.” He stopped to rub his forehead and looked down. “Then,” he swallowed hard and went on in a rush. “Then they exploded out of Africa, slaughtering everything in their path.” After a moment he looked up, to see Kerlek watching him with a Vulcan mask firmly in place. Phlox went on, “Previous Human breeds had drifted across the face of the planet. The modern Humans, the ones infused with Vulcan genes, flared and spread like wildfire. They tore across the face of the land, leaving devastation everywhere they went. Armed with new weapons – weapons that were more deadly by an order of magnitude. For the first time on Earth, Humans started making accurate, long range projectile weapons. The atlatl, then the bow and the sling. They transformed spear points from crudely tapped chunks into sleek, needle-like messengers of death. The mega-fauna, the huge animals that had shared the planet with Humanity's ancestors for all of their time began to disappear.” He looked away again. “And so did the other Humans.” “You mean war,” Kerlek said flatly. Phlox nodded, looking sick. “The fossil record is clear enough. They flowed eastward across Asia almost unimpeded. There is no evidence that Erectus even slowed them down. Although there is evidence that modern Humans... interacted... with Erectus.” “Interacted?” Kerlek raised an eyebrow. Phlox cleared his throat. “Remember I mentioned regional variations earlier? Among Erectus? Some modern Humans also display the same type of regional variations. Archaeologists have found modern Human remains in proximity to Erectus artifacts. One piece of research that I have read even claims to have evidence of ecto-parasite transference from Erectus to modern Humans.” “Then perhaps,” Kerlek said hopefully, “it wasn't as bloody as you assume?” Phlox looked at him. “Standard Human conquest practice throughout their recorded history, and I see no reason to believe that they have ever done it differently, is to capture a territory, kill or castrate all the males and any females who resist, and keep the surviving females as breeding slaves.” Kerlek winced. “In Europe, modern Humans found conquest a bit more challenging,” Phlox told him. “It took them several thousand years to wipe out Neanderthal.” Kerlek started looking grim, Vulcan discipline or no. “There is even fossil evidence,” Phlox went on, “that Neanderthal may have won some victories. For example, in the Middle East there are signs that Neanderthal managed to drive modern Humans out for a brief time and take over the area. But they were not able to hold their victory, and ultimately they passed into oblivion, snuffed like a candle flame.” “I see why you were reluctant to tell me this,” Kerlek said, after several minutes of silence. “Basically, you are saying that infusing Humans with Vulcan genes turned them from peaceful hunters into blood crazed murderers.” “No! Not at all! I mean,” Phlox floundered, “not really. I mean...” He stopped for a moment to think. “The new Humans made many innovations in addition to new weapons. They invented sewing for example. And representational art, Kerlek. After the Vulcan infusion is when we begin to find paintings left behind on the walls of their cavern homes. Beautiful, elaborate works of art equal to anything done in modern times. Without the infusion, I am certain that Humans would have become extinct. You know perfectly well that groups of tiny family units, scattered widely across the surface of a rugged landscape, would be terribly vulnerable to the dangers of genetic drift.” “But it turned them into warriors,” Kerlek said flatly. “Yes? Or no?” “Yes,” Phlox admitted sadly. “The mass graves are everywhere. Tangled skeletons thrown into pits together, with broken weapon points embedded in the skulls and spines. Walled settlements, with earthen dikes and surrounding moats to protect the interconnected homes inside. It has even been suggested that Humans developed agriculture as a method of feeding themselves inside their crude fortresses, since it was no longer safe to go outside and forage.” He looked unhappy. “Some of the cave paintings I mentioned show warriors in military formations. Modern Human soldiers who examined the paintings have claimed that they can identify the specific formations. Apparently some aspects of Human land warfare have not changed in over 60,000 years.” “And thus, my earlier question is answered,” Kerlek stood up and walked over to the window, looking out at the night. Phlox looked at his back in puzzlement. “I am sorry, my friend. I don't recall the specific question you mean.” “I am referring,” Kerlek told him without turning around, “to my curiosity as to why it took Humans so long to go from hunting and gathering to agriculture, and then to the stars. But now, it is obvious. It took them so long for the same reason that it took us so long. They were too busy killing each other to bother with maintaining a civilization.” Phlox looked sick, but nodded unseen. “I am afraid you are right. Every major attempt at building a civilization which Humans have undertaken, until now, has been destroyed by war. It is only in the last five centuries that they have managed to hold things together long enough to reach the stars.” Kerlek said distantly, “A failing that my people are well familiar with, Phlox. We are certainly in no position to judge them.” He turned around. “But this does complicate things, I admit. When we present our results to the Science directorate, we will also be forced to tell them that as soon as Humans were infused with our blood, the first thing they did was embark on a campaign of genocide against their own kin.” He paused to consider. “The Science Directorate is not going to want to hear that. They will not want to hear that at all.” |
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