They were commissioned by the planet’s survivors to engineer a fungus capable of eating radioactive fallout while producing electrical energy, fresh food, and clean water.
They’d succeeded, but hadn’t stopped with their mandate. The scientists tried to curb the war-like impulses of the Ythirian people. One Ythirian scientist in particular—Rae hadn’t caught her name—spoke often about the “unchecked aggression” she saw from soldiers, generals, and world leaders.
Rae skipped through the videos quite a bit, but it was only when she happened to listen all the way through one log that she caught the scientist’s name.
“Signing off for Day 340, this is Dr. Sokki Lyr.”
“Lyr,” Rae breathed.
That was it. The domé weren’t artificial intelligences. They’d been imprinted from the rogue scientists who’d constructed the Skorvag. She checked the roster, and there it was: Dr. Kaython, a lead botanical engineer.
The Skorvag was constructed to nurture and protect a population decimated by war; somehow, the scientists had decided to try something much more radical. Was that why it strictly forbade males from “creating” things?
Most of the scientists who designed it did appear to be female, Rae realized. Had they blamed masculinity for the war? If so, Rae wondered why they’d chosen a weirdly patriarchal, primitive society as their solution.
Then again, how many scientists had she met who had cynical attitudes about humanity?
There were plenty of smart people who thought humankind was too far from their ancestral, primitive roots, and that civilization was under constant threat of a collapse driven by being out of touch with evolution.
Rae could see how the Skorvag had steered Ythir toward a world without war, disease, poverty—or even office jobs. They did it without breeding aggression and dominance out of society, though; instead, they sublimated it into hunting, ritualized competition for mates, and highly limited inter-tribe combat that was only occasionally lethal.
“Computer,” she said, testing its voice commands. “Show me files related to the Skorvag’s primary objectives.”
“Right away, Number Two. The Skorvag’s primary objectives are as follows. First, ensure the longevity of the Ythirian species through interplanetary seeding and collection of biodiversity from other planets.
Second, ensure the longevity and happiness of individual Ythirians through gradual biological and cultural evolution. Third, protect Ythir and native biodiversity from extra-planetary threats.”
So the Skorvag had gradually remade Ythirian society over the eons. Who knew what threats or forces had propelled it this direction?
Something about the computer’s response made Rae nervous, though. “Computer, why am I designated as ‘Number Two?’ ”
“You are the second entrant since Sector 47-B was sealed post seeding.”
“Are you counting Garr? He never came in.”
“You are the second entrant.”
“Computer, who was the first entrant?”
“Records from the last nine hundred days have been erased.”
Rae shook her head. “When were they erased?”
“One week ago.”
All Rae’s fine hairs stood on end. That was why the door had been cleared of moss. “Is Number One in the lab right now?”
“Negative.”
“Access all recent activity dated between ten days and one day ago.”
“All logs deleted.”
“Fine. Access visual logs of the lab prior to one week ago. Compare them to visual logs from one hour before my arrival. Display on screen anything that’s physically different about the lab between then and now.” Someone had broken in and covered their tracks, but she could at least see if they made any recent changes.
It only displayed one thing. Below her, in one of the growth bays, a genetic womb had been shattered.
“Enhance and display that womb on the floor right here.” She pointed to the command chamber floor and a holographic image projected there. It showed the scale of the tube, which was massive. Kneeling to the faintly flickering image, she noticed claw marks from whatever had scrabbled free. “Someone’s been building monsters,” she whispered.
The realization hit her like a bolt of lightning, and she ran back to Garr.
“What?” he asked, snapping to attention.
“That trophy from the squid monster. Do you still have it?”
“Of course.” He proffered the nine-inch talon, which he’d transformed into a knife.
Snatching it, she ran back into the lab and knelt, comparing the claw marking to the talon on Garr’s trophy knife.
It matched.
“Uh oh.”
***