Page 3 of Experimental Voyage
My world had become home to seventeen different species of hummingbirds rescued off Earth, although our stock hadlong since evolved away from their ancestors. The bodies of the original birds remained in the planet’s aviary museum to showcase applicable evolution.
Most of our hummingbirds were larger than the Earth originals, with one exception, which had somehow retained its minuscule form. I suspected the general fragility of the species had given us humans reason to make them sanctuaries in which they could thrive.
Eight aviaries across the planet catered to the species, and before the accident, I’d gotten to see them up close and personal.
I’d seen bigger bees.
The pilot of the ferry approached, an older man who’d spent all his life working to save people like me, who’d been caught in the grip of misfortune. I didn’t mind being a prize in his career, one of the cases he thought, for certain, he’d lose before making it to the mercy ship. He came armed with a digital blackboard, and he greeted me by name, Camellia.
During one of the quarantine orbits, right after my surgery when I was at highest risk of contracting diseases, he’d taken the time to teach me about the significance of my name, its origin from Earth, and how the flower had grown to have a planetwide meaning of love and affection—and in some cases, yearning or longing.
I’d bloomed into my name in more ways than I cared to think about.
As was our way, he handed me the board, and I greeted him by name, Olivier, a tree of importance to Earth and its many people.
We had olive trees, and the first time I had been able to walk after the accident, I had taken him to see one, showing him his namesake as he had taught me of mine. As a Deltan, Olivier’s ship had not carried olive trees, and his face had expressed hisdelight at having finally seen what had shaped so much of his life.
As a Schwanan, my ancestors had crammed every tree and animal they could onto their ship, many of them illegally, pushing the limits of survivability until finding a suitable home. We’d somehow dodged evolving quite like some of the other generational ships. Some speculated we’d manipulated our DNA from the beginning, making use of cloning techniques to stay as close tohomo sapiensas we could.
We’d maintained our generally purebredhomo sapiensdesignation, although most referred to us ashomo sapiens Schwanato distinguish ourselves fromhomo sapiens Andromeda, which had been the last of the surviving ships to reach and settle a planet.
They’d received their designation shortly before the accident, andhomo sapienshad rejoiced in welcoming a new branch into our family.
In terms of the universal community, not allhomo sapienswere created equal.Homo sapiens Delta, like Olivier, could reproduce with most otherhomo sapiens,boasting a more adaptable and robust reproductive system, gifting them with the highest numbers but least protections.
After we went through our usual greeting, Olivier wrote a longer note, which he handed over.
The mercy ship had sent word to its sister ships and beyond, and they’d received a medical team willing to consult on me about an experimental treatment. There were three primary catches. First, I would need to take part in an experimental voyage to test the general robustness of purebredhomo sapiens,of which I counted as a Schwanan. As I would be the primary experiment, all costs of care would be covered. Second, I would need to be willing to put my schooling to work and testmy xenodiversity rating in a live environment without prior exposure training.
While I’d been aware of other species in the universe, Schwana Major tended to have poor xenodiversity ratings due to our general inclination to keep to ourselves and study our environment without risk of outside variables destroying our experiments.
I had not yet taken the xenodiversity courses or been tested for my rating.
Lastly, I would need to be willing to keep ahomo sapiensand his companion company for the duration of the voyage. The animal would be the contributor DNA for the experimental treatment, and thehomo sapiensin question supervised the animal.
I’d heard of hybridization, buthomo sapiens Schwanahad zero individuals who had undergone the procedures. There were numerous examples ofhomo sapiens Andromedawho had successfully taken on animal traits while maintaining their status as purebredhomo sapiens.
I’d found the concept fascinating. I cleared the board and inquired if I qualified for hybridization.
Upon reading my question, he smiled and nodded, then he wrote another note, which he gave back to me.
If approved for hybridization, I would also be granted rights to install a link, as the sectors of the brain modified were not close to the shard and the risk had been deemed marginal.
Excitement surged through me, and rather than write anything, I stared at him.
Olivier took the board from me and wrote another note, which informed me that due to the rigors of space, outside of a few trinkets, I would need to be willing to leave the planet without much, including warning.
The longer I waited for the operations, the less likely they were to succeed.
Even my clothing would be replaced at the cost of the expedition.
All they needed to begin operations was the experimental subject: me.
Some choices were easier to make than others, and I said, “Yes.”
I would never know if I whispered or shouted the word, but the pilot’s smile promised I’d gotten the point across, and as was his way, he bowed to welcome me on board his ship.
TWO
