Robert Sawyer - Illegal Alien

The words were out before Frank realized how impolitic they were: “Really, Kelkad, you can’t believe that.”

“I believe it with every fiber of my being,” said Kelkad. His tuft was moving excitedly. “God must exist, or the universe is without meaning and purpose. Since the latter premise is unacceptable, the former—the existence of a divine being—must be true.”

Frank was struggling to understand. “And so having discovered that you weren’t the products of divine engineering, you came to Earth looking to see if we were the products of it?”

“That was part of our mission, yes.”

“And what makes you think we’re not?” asked Frank.

Kelkad’s topknot split in a shrug. “At first we thought you might indeed be—you were so different from us! Evolution produced the Tosok form, and we had assumed it was a sort of generalized product of random chance—not perfect, you understand, but we felt that the basic fourfold symmetry, with arms front and back and legs left and right, would be a model that evolution would tend toward. But your form—twofold symmetry, arms above and legs below—was so bizarre that we thought perhaps we might be staring at a miniature form of God, that in you we saw the true form of the creator. But then…”

“Then?”

Kelkad seemed reluctant to go on, but after a moment he did. “Once we discovered the biochemical fact of evolution, we could not help but look at ourselves, and the other forms of life on our world, in a different light. Far from being the optimized form we had always assumed, we began to realize that there were many basic flaws in the Tosok body plan. Our hearts, for instance, allow oxygenated and unoxygenated blood to mix.”

“Reptilian hearts here on Earth do that,” said Frank. “They have three-chambered hearts; humans have four-chambered ones that keep used blood separate from freshly oxygenated blood.”

“A fine design,” said Kelkad.

“Well, it’s better than the reptilian one,” agreed Frank. “But, then, reptiles are cold-blooded. They don’t have to support a high level of metabolism. But the warm-blooded forms on Earth—mammals and birds—each independently evolved a more efficient four-chamber heart.”

“They are fortunate,” said Kelkad. “We do not have such things. Oh, we manage a high level of metabolism, but that is attributable in part to having four hearts working in unison, rather than to a basic efficiency of the Tosok cardiac design. Such flaws prove our lack of divine origin—just as such flaws prove the same about yourselves.”

“What flaws?” said Frank.

“Your throats, for instance. Food can block your own air passageway, and—”

“And—my God!” said Frank, heart pounding. “My God! And our eyes—our eyes are wired backward. And our guts contain an appendix that does nothing useful at all. When Hask dissected Calhoun, he was looking for design flaws, for things that would prove we had not been created from an intelligently designed blueprint.”

“In fact,” said Kelkad, “I suspect he was looking for the opposite—for proof that you were divine, that we had found God’s true children in our own backyard. His disappointment must have been profound at discovering that you, too, had evolved inefficiently through trial and error.”

“Wait a minute,” said Frank. “If Hask thought we were God’s children, what would move him to kill one of us in the first place? Surely he must have thought that God would frown on murdering one of his creations?”

“Hask did not intend to kill Calhoun.”

“Oh, come on! I don’t care where it evolved, no lifeform could have survived that kind of dissection.”

“The dissection was done after Calhoun was dead, of course.”

“But to sever a limb!”

“Hask cut off Calhoun’s leg,” the alien captain said in agreement. “Doubtless to Hask’s astonishment, Calhoun bled to death.”

“A clean cut like that, right through the femoral artery? Of course he bled to death!”

“That was likely Hask’s first clue that the human design was inefficient.”

“Well, what the hell would happen if I cut off your leg?”

“I would be unable to walk, until the leg regenerated or was reattached.”

“What about blood loss? We’ve seen Tosoks bleed.”

“A small amount of blood would escape, but valves in our arteries would close, preventing any significant loss.”

“We don’t have valves in our arteries,” said Frank.

“Imagine Hask’s shock when he discovered that.”

“Christ,” said Frank. “Jesus Christ.” He closed his eyes. Humans do have valves in their veins—which carry used blood back to the heart—but not in their arteries, which carry freshly oxygenated blood away from the heart.

When venous valves fail to function properly, the result is varicose veins.

“Dammit, dammit, dammit,” said Frank, getting it. “The human heart is located near the top of the body; fresh blood going down into the legs needs no help—gravity causes it to flow down anyway. It’s only blood coming back up, climbing four, five, or even six feet from our feet to our heart that’s in danger of slipping backward; that’s why we have valves that close when it does so. But the four Tosok hearts—Stant testified in court that they’re located near the bottom of the torso. So, in you, blood going from the heart up to the head is also prone to slipping back. Of course you’d have valves in both your arteries and in your veins.” He shook his head, angry with himself for not having seen it earlier. “But why would Hask cut off Clete’s leg in the first place?”

“Leg amputation is a standard method of prisoner restraint on our world.”

“Prisoner!” said Frank.

“Yes. Clearly Hask needed to keep Calhoun from getting away while he went to do something—presumably summoning me, his commanding officer. He had no bonding equipment with him, but he did have his monofilament cutting tool.”

“But why would he need to restrain Calhoun?”

“Of that,” said Kelkad, “I have no idea.”

As soon as Frank returned to Earth, Hask demanded a chance to consult privately with him and Dale Rice. The two of them drove out to Valcour Hall at the University of Southern California, and met with Hask in his room.

“I wish to change my plea,” said Hask.

Dale kept his face impassive. “Do you, now?”

“That is my option, no? I wish to change to a plea of guilty.”

Dale looked over at Frank, whose eyebrows were high on his forehead. “You realize,” said Dale, looking back at Hask, “that if you plead guilty, the presentation of evidence will end, and Judge Pringle will charge the jury with sentencing you.”

“Yes.”

“And,” said Dale, “the sentence they will likely call for is execution. Often, the death penalty is not invoked even when applicable to the crime if there’s still a shadow of a doubt. A jury might feel comfortable sentencing you to life imprisonment, but generally will want to be convinced to a higher degree before calling for execution. But if you admit your guilt, any remaining doubt in the jury’s mind is eliminated.”

“I am prepared for the consequences.”

Dale shrugged. “It is, as you say, your prerogative. As your lawyer, I should inform you that a better option would be for you to simply dispatch me to Linda Ziegler’s office and tell her that we might be receptive to a deal. We could plea-bargain this down from murder one to manslaughter—you’ll certainly not be executed, and probably get off with five years or so.”

“Whatever,” said Hask. “Just so long as the presentation of evidence ends.”

“All right,” said Dale. “But, look, I’ve gone to a lot of trouble preparing my summation and argument. You really owe me a chance to present it—at least to you and Frank.”