The Departure

The Earth breathed a sigh of relief when the Emissary’s craft shot out through the solar system, soon fading out of the technology to track it, although nobody could fully relax. Promises were made and recompense given – a ‘contract’, if you will – which in essence said that there may be sporadic visitations to Earth over the next 100 years, and it was free to make good use of an Expunger Tool, with instructions, he had gifted to the United Nations. He kept information to them short; vague where necessary, concise where necessary.

The matter of girl-Annabel: Emissary undertook to return her in 12 month’s time, 6 months being the expected gestation for her cross-breed progeny. Naturally, she had to be cared for in their environment and by their experts, he explained. The journey time to his system was 2 months, which would leave 4 months on his home world for her ‘post-natal care’ as he called it, and then 2 for the return journey. Partly true: really, some extra time was desired for ‘various and sexual study’ – all in controlled fashion, of course, but he omitted to mention any of that.

Also, with due compassion, one didn’t want to venture the suggestion to her parents the chance she might bond with the offspring – adapt into into their culture even – and want to never return. A couple of weeks into the journey, when Annabel was more settled, out of goodness he had her communicate on-screen with her mother and explain where she’d be, cosmologically speaking. His star system was in what humans called the Perseus arm of the galaxy, hazily visible from Earth, at 25,257 light years distance. He even gave exact co-ordinates that their astronomers could understand.

This only seemed to make the mother more distraught, though. Oh, well. One tries. Perhaps it was more the thought of him and what he looked liked. To this end, he made sure not to be in shot of the viewer screen – indeed, he heard Annabel say to her that ‘it’s probably best’ (that she didn’t see him) – and it remained that the only humans ever to have a sighting of him were Annabel herself, and that geneticist and counsellor of hers. Oh, and their United Nations leader over a view-screen. It was up to them what they did with the information.

As to Annabel: self-harm was obviously a danger. This was controlled by brainwave and brain-chemical monitoring technology that Earth-science was not even close to, with her medication adjusted accordingly. The ‘potion’ as such only made her see him as though he were a human male, and she’d respond accordingly to the various sexual attentions. Put another way, when on 100% dosage, her attitude to it was comparable to if she’d been raped or seduced or put into an ‘arranged marriage’ – all the cultural sex nuances of humans – with some guy of equivalent age and attractiveness as he was within his own species.

However, at all times she retained her understanding of who/what he was and what was happening to her. This included the susceptibility to inevitable things such as pining for her home and previous life, anxiety over where she was going and what would happen to her, the prospective long-term strain of not seeing another human, but also the issue of what humans termed ‘Stockholm Syndrome’. It was an interesting mission for sure. To counter these factors, complementary to the potion was medication which was basically just Earth sedative, although considerably more in tune with brain-function.

With all the essentials thus in place, Emissary had some space to enjoy the voyage, and even encouraged her to do the same. She was provided for by environmental controls in her quarters, which comprised of the boudoir and a lounge on the model of her Earth home. She could view video recordings of her previous domesticity – for limited times, lest she become too dependent on them – and Earth-scenery and what not. He balanced the routine and occasionally slightly-painful anatomical tests with giving her freedom to roam. Interesting changes happened.

After a while, presuming she was well dosed up, she began to seek him out to ask things. To begin with it was mostly on the lines of what was to become of her and when could she return home. He had to be repeatedly blunt: ‘in a year, when the programme is done, get used to it’. Gradually she started to enquire of him personally, and his world, or of the science of space travel. She truly was rather intelligent, and he found himself explaining the key facts of why human DNA could be useful for the long-term future of his species.

Humans had massive ‘potential’; witness the sheer speed of their evolution from their mammalian origins. His own had evolved far more gradually and consistently, which was a big reason why they had survived into the interstellar travel epoch. Humanity’s great strength was that they could survive such things as ice ages and meteor-strikes; however, they flourished so fast that they effectively ended up crawling over each other like a plague of mice and self-destructed. It was a fact that almost no mammalian species in the known universe ever reached interstellar age, without outside help. 95% of sentients were reptilian-amphibian based.

She even challenged him on India, the cheeky thing. ‘Those people had a right to their lives’, she insisted. No, the planet has a right to its life, countered Emissary, and the thing was done respectfully and humanely was it not? ‘Pangladanianely’ might be the better adverb, though, he explained; his home world, which she was going to see, was called Pangladia in nearest English translation. Very foresty, very humid and very warm, although getting less of the last two. After 6 weeks of travel they were within communication range of it, mere billions of miles, having come out of hyperspace.

This meant that Emissary would have important conferences to deal with on the viewer, and preparations to make in introducing ‘Annabel’ to the people in charge. He realised he thought of her by her name all the time now, even when not enjoying her under HMU but dealing with her in her grotesqueness. It fascinated him to contemplate how some humans kept turtles, tortoises or even damn salamanders; creatures regarded instinctively as ‘ugly’ by humans, for sex purposes at least, yet they held them in affection and protectiveness. It would not be easy to let her go; was Annabel becoming ... a ‘pet’?

It was time for the mission review, which was where the Governing Council feed back to him on his report and give a critique and specify next steps. Emissary felt he had nothing much to fear from this, as everything had gone pretty much to plan, but he did feel a twinge of concern over any possible new details of how they proposed to handle Annabel. As so characteristic of his species, it would be succinct and frank, but hopefully reasonable. They were online now – the Chairman, Chief of Sciences, and Head Medical Nurse (a lady Pangladian) – so he logged in and switched on. The three of them occupied the same room, sitting behind a long panel-bench.

“Ah, so you have her there,” said Chairman Throde.

Annabel was in the reclining chair a little beyond Emissary’s shoulder but in shot.

“Yes. I thought I’d bring her in on it.”

“It’s interesting to see her, live and candid,” said the Science Chief, Kern.

“I imagine so.”

“Why the restraining belt?” asked Throde.

It was exactly that, much like their native car seatbelts, and not uncomfortable for her.

“Just in case she has a panic attack.”

“Is that likely? asked Throde.

“Not at all. I reckon I’ve learned to read all her signs very well now, and honed her dosage. But it can happen; this is another mini-escalation for her, of course, seeing you three, seeing that there are more of us.”

“I would have thought she’d assume that,” said Kern.

“Seeing is a different thing, though,” said Nurse Dreeka.

“Well, have you told her there’s three billion more of us?” asked Throde, dryly.

“Not, not as such.”

“Never mind. We’ll proceed.” He looked at the Chief Scientist.

“Okay,” began Kern. “Well, you have fulfilled the main investigation parameters. The HMU evidently worked very well, and your adapted sperm has fertilized the human female, the offspring is conceived and ... we are ‘on the way’, in that regard.”

“She’s in one piece too,” said Dreeka. “Not merely superficially, as we can see right now, but in her anatomy and general health. You’ve cared for her, and she’s fit for motherhood.”

“I think so, I think so.”

“You’ve established very well how much these human females need the potion,” said Kern, “and gleaned very well the boundary of acceptance and horror.”

“I believe so.”

“Bit mischievious of you to have deliberately given her that too-low dosage at the outset,” said Throde.

“Uh, yes.” It was, and he felt surprisingly bad about it now.

“No worries, you have to have your fun. In yourself,” asked Throde, “you feel you understand how a human male lusts after such as she, and you are clear where the departure-point of your own desire is on the wearing off of the Upload?”

“Pardon?”

Chairman sighed. “First bit: you feel ‘hot’ for her, under the influence, and enjoy her very much?”

“Yes.”

“Second bit: can you tell exactly where your natural inter-species revulsion kicks in? At what measure of HMU does it become distinctly difficult to want to fuck her?”

“Yes.” This, he was in fact very unclear on – emotions, not easy to separate out the neutral from the sexual – but he decided to spout certainty on it. “At 75% potency, the urge to kiss her or orally molest her in any way is gone. I could bring myself to fuck her, I believe, at 65%, even as low as 50% if done from behind and I can’t see her face. At 30% I certainly have no desire to do much else apart from be civil to her and avoid looking at her too much. At less than 15%, my feeling is she can be served to a banquet for all I care.”

“That’s pretty candid and informative,” said Chief Kern. “Well done.”

“Hmph, yes,” said Throde. “That’ll be an ongoing investigation, with him and others.”

“How so?” asked Emissary.

“Cripes, you’re slow today. The seminar, the seminar; a hundred eminent biologists, geneticists, evolutionists, chemists, culturalists and socio and other ologists that I can’t be bothered to remember right now are going to be in attendance and watching you or somebody else have erotic and communication interaction with her. Be on good form; have her ready.”

“Uh, well, yes of course, Chairman. Looking forward to it.”