Robert Sawyer - Hybrids

Jock steepled his fingers. What the boys at Fort Detrick would give for this!

Nucleic acids. Proteins.

Those were the building blocks of viruses, which were, after all, just scraps of DNA or RNA contained in protein coats.

Jock stared at the machine, thinking.

The phone on Jock’s desk made its distinctive internal-call ring. Jock picked up the handset. “Your 11:30 appointment is here,” said Mrs. Wallace’s voice.

“Right, okay.”

A moment later a thin, blue-eyed man in his mid-thirties came through the door. “Dr. Krieger,” he said, extending his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Have a seat.”

The man did so, but first handed Jock a copy of a lengthy curriculum vitae. “As you can see, I have a Ph. D. in genetics from Oxford. I was associated with the Ancient Biomolecules Centre there.”

“Did you do any Neanderthal work?”

“No, not specifically. But lots of other late-Cenozoic stuff.”

“How did you hear about us?”

“I was with York University, where Mary Vaughan used to be, and-”

“We generally do our own recruiting, you know.”

“Oh, I understand that, sir. But I thought, with Mary having gone to the other universe, you might have need of a geneticist.”

Jock glanced at the object on his desktop. “As a matter of fact, Dr. Ruskin, I do.”

“ But smelling Martian roses will be only a pause, only a brief catching of breath, a moment of reflection, before we will again take up the journey, driving ever outward, farther and farther, learning, discovering, growing, expanding not only our borders but our minds…”

It had been almost three weeks since the United Nations contingent, including Jock, had returned home. Ponter and Adikor were working down in their quantum-computing facility, a thousand armspans below the surface, when the message came through: a courier envelope, passed along the Derkers tube by a Canadian Forces officer.

Ponter himself happened to open the package. The interior envelope bore the bisected-globe logo of the Synergy Group, and so Ponter at first assumed it was for Mare. But it wasn’t. To his astonishment, the inner envelope was addressed to him, in both English letters and Neanderthal glyphs.

Ponter opened the envelope, with his beloved Adikor looking over his shoulder. Inside was a memory bead. Ponter popped it into the player on his control console, and a three-dimensional image of Lonwis Trob appeared, his mechanical blue eyes shining from within. The image was about a third of life-size, and it floated a handspan above the console.

“Healthy day, Scholar Boddit,” said Lonwis. “I need you to return to the Synergy Group headquarters, here on the south side of Lake Jorlant-what the Gliksins still insist on calling Lake Ontario, despite me having corrected them repeatedly. As you know, I am working here with Dr. Benoit on quantum-computing issues, and I have a new idea about preventing decoherence even in surface-level systems, but I require your expertise in quantum computing. Bring your research partner, Scholar Adikor Huld; his expertise would be of considerable utility, too. Be here within three days.”

The image froze, meaning the playback had come to an end. Ponter looked at Adikor. “Would you like to come along?”

“Are you kidding?” asked Adikor. “A chance to meet Lonwis Trob! I’d love to come.”

Ponter smiled. Gliksins said that Barasts lacked the desire to explore new places. Maybe they were right: until now, despite it being his hardware that had made the portal possible, Adikor hadn’t shown any interest in seeing the Gliksin world. But now he was going to go over-so he could meet one of his Barast heroes.

“Three days gives us plenty of time to pack,” said Ponter. “It’s not far from here-the here that is there, I mean-to the Synergy Group headquarters.”

“I wonder what Lonwis has behind his ridge?” asked Adikor. “Who knows? But I’m sure it’s brilliant.”

The control room was empty except for Ponter and Adikor, although a Neanderthal technician was working on the computing floor, and a Neanderthal enforcer was seated by the mouth of the portal, just in case.

“I must invite Mare to join us,” said Ponter.

Adikor’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not yet time for Two to become One.”

Ponter nodded. “I know. But that rule doesn’t apply in her world, and she would never forgive me if I went over there and didn’t bring her.”

“Scholar Trob did not ask for her,” said Adikor.

Ponter reached out and touched Adikor’s arm. “I know this has been difficult for you. I’ve spent far too much time with Mare, and far too little with you. You know how much I love you.”

Adikor nodded slowly. “I’m sorry. I’m trying-I really am-not to be petty about Mare and you. I mean, I want you to have a woman-mate; you know that. But I never thought you’d find a woman-mate who would intrude on our time together.”

“It has been…complex,” said Ponter. “I apologize for that. But shortly your son Dab will come to live with us-and then you will have less time for me.”

As soon as he’d said those words, Ponter regretted them. The hurt was obvious on Adikor’s face. “We will raise Dab together,” Adikor said. “That is the way; you know that.”

“I do know. I’m sorry. It’s just that…”

“That this is so rotted awkward,” said Adikor.

“We will resolve it all soon,” said Ponter. “I promise.”

“How?”

“Mare will move to the other side of the portal and live there, in her world, except when Two become One. Things will go back to being normal between you and me, Adikor.”

“When?”

“Soon. I promise.”

“But you want her to come on this trip-come with us to the Synergy Group, come with us to see Lonwis.”

“Well, her current contribution is as a researcher at the Synergy Group. Surely it makes sense for her to return there from time to time.”

Adikor’s broad mouth was frowning. Ponter used the back of his hand to gently rub Adikor’s cheek, feeling his whiskers. “I do love you, Adikor. Nothing will ever come between us.”

Adikor nodded slowly, and then, taking the initiative himself, he spoke into his Companion. “Please connect me to Mare Vaughan.”

After a moment, Christine’s imitation of Mare’s voice emerged from Adikor’s Companion’s external speaker, a translation of what Mare had said in her language: “Healthy day.”

“Healthy day, Mare. This is Adikor. How would you like to take a trip with Ponter and me?”

“This is astonishing!” said Adikor as they drove through Sudbury, Ontario. “Buildings everywhere! And all these people! Men and women together!”

“And this is just a small city,” said Ponter. “Wait till you see Toronto or Manhattan.”

“Incredible,” said Adikor. Ponter had taken the back seat so that Adikor could ride up front. “Incredible!”

Before heading out on the long trip to Rochester, they stopped first at Laurentian University to inquire about employment opportunities for Mary and Bandra. Ponter had been absolutely right: the meeting started with the head of the genetics and geology departments, but soon the university’s president and its chancellor had shown up as well. Laurentian very much wanted to hire them both, and was more than happy to work out a schedule that would accommodate four consecutive days’ leave per month for Mary.

Since they were at Laurentian, they went down to the basement lair of Veronica Shannon. Adikor went into “Veronica’s Closet,” wearing a newly built test helmet that easily accommodated Neanderthal skulls.

Mary had hoped that Adikor might experience something when the left-hemisphere part of his parietal lobe was stimulated, but he didn’t. On the off-chance that Neanderthal brains were mirror images of Gliksin ones (unlikely, given the prevalence of right-handedness in Neanderthals), Veronica tried a second run, stimulating the right-hemisphere part of Adikor’s parietal lobe, but that also produced no response.