Chapter 9
T he rest of my time on Lyll passed in a blur. Eashai’s team of scientists were ecstatic to meet me, and had so many questions that I barely had time to look at their research.
One thing I realized was just how long they’d been planning. It was one thing to be told, but even a tiny glimpse of their conclusions showed me that they’d been working on it for decades at minimum, and examining things in far greater depth than modern human testing could accomplish.
Research on our end was merely a polite formality.
Before we left, Eashai took a few minutes to talk about Ashley’s thesis, and showed me their data and why he’d suggested she look into what he did.
It was so subtle as to be overlooked, but I couldn’t deny what was in front of me. If she followed his advice, she’d make history—at least among geneticists.
Part of me hoped that none of the Lalyllte in other countries had pointed out the connection to scientists or students there. Ashley was a good kid, worked hard, and I selfishly wanted her to have that kind of discovery on her resume.
We spent our last afternoon doing touristy things.
Eashai took me to an art gallery that still had technology that I couldn’t dream of, we ate at restaurants serving delicious foods with ingredients that I had no idea what they were, much less could pronounce, and ended the evening in what seemed to be the equivalent of a bar with a live band playing.
The entire trip was almost like a dream that ended too soon. Then we were on a ship back to Earth.
Maybe it was the lack of escort, maybe I was giving off some vibe, but more Lalyllte were comfortable approaching me on the return trip. I was able to have several nice conversations while Eashai slept through his nausea.
Most of them were excited to ask what had been my favorite part of the trip, but a few were interested in my part of the research and my thoughts on the project as a whole.
But their questions paled in comparison to those from my fellow humans.
I was summoned to the admin building almost immediately after our arrival, where I was informed that the expected debriefing would occur the following day.
Then I stopped into the lab to find out what I’d missed during the time I was gone.
Men I’d come to know as stoic scientist soldiers were like giddy toddlers, shouting out questions as soon as they popped into their heads. Then each answer generated a new round of follow-up questions.
Eashai, still slightly green around the gills from the trip, stood off to one side. An amused expression on his face told me he’d answered similar questions already, but found the desire for confirmation from another human fascinating.
Luckily, whatever jealousy the men harbored—if any—wasn’t on display. Nobody expressed disappointment that they hadn’t been asked to go to Lyll. They just wanted to learn as much as they could from my experience.
The general intrigue around me lasted several days—random soldiers I’d never met approached me to ask what it was like. Then it died down again, and we returned to business as usual.
Mostly, anyways.
Maybe it was because some part of me was aware of the inevitable flow of time.
Soon enough, I’d be leaving the base to return to my life as a professor.
But part of me was convinced it was regret that I had been unable to learn all I’d wanted to about Eashai’s world—so I was determined to introduce him to Earth even more than I had before.
We added two shows to our watchlist—sitting down together to watch them in my room, where the Army had been polite enough to provide basic cable. Then we’d discuss whatever he wanted to learn about them.
We also spent more time in the recreational area. He still struggled with tennis, but was quickly becoming adept at pool and darts.
It was strangely idyllic. I spent my days doing interesting work that I loved, and most evenings with a man who’d quickly become my best friend.
But as oppressive summer heat settled among the trees, and even shade provided little relief, I was painfully aware that I’d spent more days on the base than I had left. The time to make my decision was quickly approaching.
“You have been quiet today,” Eashai stated as we strode from the mess toward the rec building.
“Sorry,” I replied. “Just thinking.”
He nudged my shoulder with his, then pointed to one of the picnic tables that we frequented. “Do you wish to talk? I believe we have some time before our scheduled turn at the pool table.”
I considered, then nodded. “That… sounds nice.”
We took a seat at the table, and I was glad for the shade, even if it didn’t help much with the heat.
“What is troubling you?” he asked after several seconds.
I sighed. “I’ve been here six weeks.”
There was a moment of silence before he spoke again. “That seems to match my estimate.”
I rested my elbows on the table, wincing slightly at the heat against my skin, then I hung my head. “That means I only have two weeks left to decide.”
“Decide?”
I groaned, let out a long breath, leaned back slightly, and stared at the sky. “I agreed to stay for eight weeks. Then I’d have to know whether I planned to stay longer or if I was going back to the university. If I’m leaving, I’ll spend another two weeks training my replacement.”
The silence was so long that I looked back to see a devastated expression on Eashai’s face.
“Eashai…” I said softly.
He blinked several times, then shook his head. “I understood your time here was limited. I did not realize that you would be leaving so soon.”
“I don’t know what to do,” I admitted. “Being here is something most scientists could only dream of. But…” I scrubbed a hand down my face.
“I don’t know how long I’ll be needed, and I can’t put my career in jeopardy.
If I’d had more time to prepare, I would have been able to do things in a way that wouldn’t piss people off, at least not as much.
I could have asked for a proper leave of absence.
I could have worked with other professors to take over my classes for a semester or two.
But I was given less than two days. That was barely enough time to let people know I’d be away for the summer. ”
I stood and started pacing. “Students have already signed up for my fall classes. Some of which are required for graduation. If I decide to stay, that means the university and my department will have to scramble to cover for me. On this short of notice, that would upset people and means that when I did go back, things would be tense at best. It could cost me the job I’ve worked so hard for. ”
“You do not think they would keep you here long enough for this to be your new career?”
I sighed and shook my head. “I just don’t know. Ultimately, this is the military’s project, and that means I’m here at their whim. If they decide they’re done with me, then it’s over.”
“I believe I am starting to understand your dilemma.”
I sat back down with a thud. “If the start of the fall semester wasn’t looming, then I’d stay.
It wouldn’t even be a question. If the schedule could easily be rearranged without people getting pissed off, then I’d stay.
I have neither of those luxuries. People outside of this base are counting on me to return to my regular job. ”
“What do you want to do?”
I licked my lips. “My wants can’t factor into this.
I have to be logical. I can’t just pick up the pieces and move to a new university if I burn bridges.
People will want to know what happened, and eventually it’ll come out that I caused issues for the school by ditching my work for a project I can’t talk about.
If it were a family emergency or illness it would be a different story, but people wouldn’t take kindly to being told that I can’t talk about the reason I flaked. ”
“Staying could truly impact the rest of your career?”
I nodded.
“Could you ask General Block for some assurances as to how long your post here would be?”
I sighed. “I could, but that doesn’t solve the long-term problem.
Even if he told me I had a guaranteed position for a few years, what happens when I return to academia?
I’d still have that black mark on my work history.
And we haven’t even gotten to my graduate students.
They wanted to study under me for a reason.
They’d have to find new professors whose work aligns with theirs, or potentially face the setback of having to start new research under somebody else. ”
He frowned. “It is quite complicated.”
I slumped. “Yeah.”
“There are no other options? Could you not teach your classes from here? Like you communicate with your students now?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know if either the Army or the university would allow it.
It was hard enough getting them to allow me to speak to my grad students.
I’m not aware of any other professor doing remote classes.
I thought about trying to work out something where the Army could send me back for one or two days a week for extended-length classes.
But with the schedules already set, I don’t think that’s feasible either. ”
“Perhaps if I…” he started.
I shook my head. “I can’t get you involved. Besides that, I really don’t know what you could do. It’s not as if they’d let you talk to the university, and even if they did, I’m not sure the administration would appreciate being leaned on like that.”
“Leaned on?”
“Pressured.” I chuckled. “Just you being here has the possibility of derailing every educational institution on the planet. All you’d need to do is flash some technology and drop scientific results from studies you’d conducted a thousand years ago.
Nothing is scarier to a college than potentially seeing funding cut off because everything they teach and research is suddenly outdated. ”
“Oh…”
I hung my head. “No matter what I decide, there are no good options.”
∞∞∞
Eashai was distant in the days following our talk. We still did the normal things, but his smile was forced, and there was sadness in his eyes.
The worst part was that I didn’t know how to fix it. It was my fault, I was leaving, and we had no real way of knowing if or when we’d be able to contact each other.
I wanted to tell him that we’d be able to stay friends, but it was a promise I didn’t know that I could keep. Instead, I had to make the most of the time we had.
There were about ten days remaining before I had to announce my decision to return to the university when Floyd strode into the computer side of the lab, a smile on his face and a manila envelope clutched in one hand.
“Good news, gentlemen,” he announced as we all turned to face him. “We’ve confirmed with the other labs, and our preliminary testing is complete. We’ve been given the go-ahead to move on to developing the test parameters and procedures that we’ll use as we bring in volunteers.”
Excited chatter filled the lab, forcing Floyd to clap twice to get everyone’s attention again.
“Representatives from the other labs will be brought in tomorrow for the planning meetings. When developing your recommendations about what samples to collect and add to continued monitoring, keep in mind that genetics isn’t the only thing being studied.
Given what we know of the Lalyllte mating practices, we expect psychological and possibly physiological changes.
Those tests will take priority for the foreseeable future.
Your ongoing tasks will be to study and document the samples from our volunteers, and as the children are born, to track what traits tend to be dominant from either the human or Lalyllte parent. ”
Heads nodded around the room.
“Hold discussions this afternoon to come up with sensible testing parameters. Eashai, Doctor Wallace, and Major Klein will be your representatives in the planning meetings, so make sure to discuss priorities and concerns with them.”
A round of “yes, sir” sounded around me.
Floyd nodded. “Good job, gentlemen. While it was one of many, this was a significant step. What you’ve done here will be classified information for years, likely decades, but eventually future generations will be able to look at your research and understand that we were aware of the magnitude of the decision and were proactive in documenting everything. ”
More nods.
“With that, I’ll leave you to your discussions.”
Another chorus of “yes, sir.”
Floyd turned and strode out, leaving several seconds of silence in his wake.
It was Major Klein who broke the silence.
“Ok, everybody. You heard him. The soldiers who volunteer to take Lalyllte mates will already be subjected to barrages of tests, and, while I don’t know about the other testing requirements, I won’t put forth any suggestion that treats our men, their mates, or their children as pincushions.
That means we develop our procedures to take as few blood draws as possible and rely on less invasive methods whenever we can. Am I clear?”
We all nodded, then the team started to break into small groups to discuss. I turned, wanting Eashai’s opinion, only to see him headed toward the door.
“Eashai?” I asked.
He turned and gave me a forced smile. “Excuse me, Gene. I must confer with my colleagues on Lyll as to what additional samples they will require.”
“Oh…” I nodded, slumping slightly.
“I will return shortly.”
“Ok…”
I watched as he walked out the door.
“Hey,” Major Klein said softly beside me. “You two ok?”
“Huh?” I asked, still staring at the door.
“You’ve both been off the past few days. At first, I wondered if it was a fight, but neither of you are acting like you’re fighting. Just sad.”
I sighed, then turned to face him. “Fall semester starts soon.”
He studied me for a couple of seconds, then let out a sigh of his own. “So that’s your decision?”
I nodded. “I haven’t told Floy—uh, Colonel Smith—yet. But no matter how many ways I look at it, the same problem keeps coming up: is this position permanent enough to burn the academic bridges? And… I don’t think the Army can guarantee that.”
He sighed. “I get it. It’ll suck losing both of you, though.”
“What do you mean, both of us?”
One of his eyebrows went up. “I thought you’d have been the first to know, as tight as you are. He told me yesterday that he’s considering returning to Lyll to be close to the new grandbaby.”
I shook my head. “He didn’t say anything.”
He hummed. “Well… it’s none of my business. But I liked working with both of you. It’ll be different around here without you.”
“Yeah…”
He strode off to talk to one of the small groups.
A knot formed in my stomach. No matter what he said, I knew in my gut that Eashai was thinking of leaving because of me.