James Scotson - Planets Falling

Mup was the brightest of the boys. He also was the smallest and received the brunt of much pokes and jabs from his peers. His skin lacked hair and he glowed more brightly than the others. The running joke among the boys was that the scientists dropped his test tube in the lab when they were making him. He was what they were able to mop up — hence his name: Mup the mop. Sometimes Mup believed them.

“I think we are going to be special police”, Mup speculated to Fromer in the twinkling starlight. “I hear that the space pirates are getting really bad out there. Maybe they will let us use weapons soon.”

Fromer chuckled. “I wish that was true. I overheard the teachers talking about us becoming diplomats. I looked it up. Diplomats do not seem to do much of anything except spend their time talking and trying to get groups to agree on things.”

“How boring. Why do we have to do that? I want to blow things up, fly ships, explore. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yes, I understand”, Fromer sighed, turning toward the wall and looking at his hands. The future was defined for them. Even at their tender age, Fromer felt his freedom tugging at him, telling him that so much more was possible than what the teachers were feeding them in the classroom.

The planet held some unexpected pleasures and surprises for the boys. When they reached eleven, they were shuttled out to a new location far beyond the Quarters. The school and housing compound in which they lived during the past few years was fashioned as a strange amalgam of earth and zenat structures. A classic twentieth-century-style earth home, with shingles, wood siding, glass-paned windows, and even a stone fireplace would be nestled next to a classical zenat dwelling with rounded doors, metallic shutters, and vegetated roofs. A trademark of zenat structures was a lack of corners, because corners were considered bad luck. Thus, all zenat buildings were fashioned in sweeping curves. The angularity of the human architecture and fluidity of the zenat buildings were sharp reminders of the differences in approach and philosophy of the two species — a chasm these boys were designed to span.

The transport vessel hummed softly as it hovered over the rocks and grasses — no need for roads when everything flew. Teacher turned to the boys in the transport telling them that their new home was visible on the horizon. They stood up and peered at the front view screen.

Looming ahead, a large hill — no, it was an artificial structure — rose abruptly from the flat, sparsely vegetated plain on which they were traveling. The structure was built in the zenat style — a huge dome, awash in earth tones of brown, green, and grey, appearing as if it was an extension of the soil below it. As the transport vehicle approached the building, a door rolled open and the boys found themselves in a new world. Mup shifted excitedly in his seat. Fromer could only look up. The roof of the dome was so high it was barely visible. The lighting was mostly natural, sun shining through huge translucent portholes in the sky. More amazing was the lush greenery above. The expanse between each porthole was completely carpeted by thick vegetation — vines, shrubs, even what looked like trees growing downward rather than up. Within these vast suspended fields, Fromer could see birds and other winged organisms darting among the branches and leaves. The walls of the dome were lined with various sizes and shapes of buildings, reminding Fromer of cells within an insane honeybee’s hive. Plants were everywhere that buildings were not.

When Fromer’s neck grew tired of gawking at the roof, he soaked in the remainder of his surroundings. The floor of the dome was a promenade so large that one side was only hazily apparent from its opposite. Transport vessels, humans, zenatans, a few slick naurons, small domesticated animals from both worlds, and surveying equipment were busily scurrying around the ground as far as he could see. Scooters hovered in mid air, ferrying people among locations both on the surface as well as along the walls.

“Alright children, it is time to move to your new lodging area.” Teacher, a mild, human female named Minna, motioned for them to proceed toward a squat group of buildings hunkered against the dome wall like a bizarre, misshapen clump of toy blocks. They settled in to their new surroundings, which were comfortable but very unfamiliar.

Paintings with wild colors and no apparent objects adorned the walls. The floors were carpeted in luxurious fabrics, sharply contrasting the cold polymer floors of the Quarters. The light was different — warm, cheerful, and ripe with promise.

Later that day, after their evening meal, Minna herded the boys back into the dome’s commons. The sun had set and the interior was glimmering. Translucent light was shining down from the vegetation above. “It’s time for you boys to expand your education. Up to now, we’ve studied the politics and history of both of your worlds. You know more about the naurons than they know of themselves.” She smiled and paused. “You’ve learned much about math and science. I am so very proud of you. But the galaxy that you’ll enter not so long from now will have other challenges — physical ones. Both worlds are relying on you to protect yourselves and defend our interests. Today, we’re going to start your physical training.” She grinned. “You boys already excel in beating the tar out of each other, particularly the Mop. I mean Mup. It’s time for some focus.”

She led them to a circular building with a platform in its center. Minna jumped onto the stage and picked up a large pole with a blade on the end. Somehow, the quiet teacher seemed larger, more formidable. She hopped down and handed the stick-knife to Mup. All the coal-black eyes in the room widened. “Today, you’ll begin a new set of lessons. This is a lancet. It is not a toy but a lethal weapon for defense. It is the first of many weapons that you’ll learn to master and wield in honor of both your species.” She waved her hand across the base of the weapon. The tip of the lancet began to glow lightly and emit an ominous hum. Mup smiled, straightening his back. He seemed larger too.

That was nearly 140 years ago. Minna was nothing but bones and dust now. Fromer’s friends — his family — were scattered across the galaxy or dead. When Fromer turned 20, he was escorted onto a transport vessel, assigned to his first outpost assignment, and seldom saw his friends, especially Mup, again. In the years to follow, he could only nod at his childhood companions across a conference facility or through a pane of glass while transferring between transport vessels in a shuttle node. Not a single photo or scrap of paper linked him to that other life.

Fromer was now sipping another small helping of vodka with a generous splash of tonic water in a place that could be a light year or the entire length of the galaxy away from his childhood home. He only harbored memories of that warm time. And exceptional training in combat and detente.

Home. He really had no place of origin. Once he did not exist and then he did. A miracle of biological engineering, merging the best physical and intellectual characteristics of two species with absolutely no evolutionary history. They called him a hybrid but he really was a chimera, a thing. Nothing more than a machine made of flesh, bones, gristle, and fluids.

The buzzer at his door pulled him out of the dark hole in which his mind was flipping and flopping in a haze of bubbling alcohol.

“Hey, Fromer, you in there?” Melat tapped on the threshold with the back of her data pad. “Open up. I need to talk to you.”

When Fromer slid open his door, Melat rushed past him into his cabin. “Drinking again? This isn’t becoming a habit is it? That insect in you can’t handle it.”