Page 11 of Life-Debt

“Homo sapiens. I’m modified, but not enough to count as a different species. Yourself?”

“Homo sapiens Cremora-Delta. My home world was settled by the earlier groups of homo sapiens to leave Earth, and we generally keep to ourselves. We’re still biologically similar to standard homo sapiens, but we have sufficient genetic differences to have our own designation now. We had a batch of three generational ships, and we were accompanied by the Cremorans. We still have close relations with the Cremorans, although we aren’t a compatible species. We have interbred with the Veloc, although genetically, any humans who enter a relationship with a Veloc have children with Veloc genetics. Sometimes they have homo sapiens children, but it’s uncommon.” Delta rolled his shoulders, wincing. “Is this soreness normal?”

While certain species had tried to intermingle on a romantic level with homo sapiens, when a species took in a non-compatible species, it was assumed they either wanted to earn a better reputation or gain a new labor force. The various universal labor groups did a decent job of containing the worst of the labor issues.

Slavery happened, but those enslaved had been given a choice: death for their crimes or a life of forced servitude. When planets indulged in enslavement beyond those terms, several of the labor federations tended to strike swiftly and with great prejudice.

Homo sapiens were a common target of slavers.

Rather than dwell more on the bleaker realities of society, I focused on my more immediate problem: my cargo, who already showed discomforting signs of being a decent conversationalist to go along with his severe case of handsome. “Yes. Being sore is normal. You’ve been in the same position for several weeks, and while stasis prevents death, it doesn’t change that your muscles haven’t been used for an extended period of time. What is your originating planet?”

Mostly, I asked to confirm what I already knew, but he wouldn’t find that out from me.

“Cremora Delta. You?”

“I was conceived on a generational ship, although I was born in Andromeda. My ears are a survivability trait.”

Pandora, who had taken a guard position by the door, yipped. I gave the fox my attention, and she let loose a series of yips, indicating she would like to go use her bathroom. Chuckling, I reached over, grabbed one of her treats, and tossed it for her. “You’re off-duty.”

She snatched up her treat and ran off to use her litter box and play, likely destroying one of her newer toys or indulging in some extended cuddle time with her favorite cuddle-buddy, which was shaped like a Veloc. Most days of the week, the race reminded me of feathered dinosaurs with big teeth and even bigger claws. I had no idea how a human and a Veloc could reproduce, but after the first few times of trying to figure it out, I decided it involved one hell of a brave person and a patient and gentle predator.

Adult Veloc tended to be an average of eight to nine feet tall, excluding their crest feathers.

I also wondered why humanity had gone with a generic name when everyone else had wisely named their race after their originating planet, thus joining the universal trend of species names being capitalized while humanity waddled along at the back of the group.

Then again, most races had an edge on the average human in size, base intellect, and strength, and most branches of humanity went out of the way to master the art of bioengineering to survive among the more cunning races.

Like the predatory Veloc.

Delta grimaced again, shifted his weight on the table, and began the long and painful process of getting his body to cooperate. I waited, as I’d learned any commentary tended to agitate those struggling to recover from stasis revival. After what felt like an eternity but was closer to ten minutes, he gestured towards where my fox had stood guard. “What sort of animal was that?”

“She’s a vulpes vulpes, commonly known as the red fox. She’s slightly modified for a longer lifespan and higher intellect. She’s my partner. Her name is Pandora. My generational ship received the fox as our companion animal, as we were the last generational ship to depart and the other ships had first crack at animals.” Other ships had gotten dogs, horses, cats, or other companion species, but we’d gotten the one of six wild animal species determined to be suitable for the rigors of space. They’d thrived, and a careful breeding program had kept them close to their Earth equivalent.

Unlike Earth’s foxes, Pandora might live to be fifty to sixty years old—maybe longer if I invested extra money for genetic rehabilitation as she aged. Knowing me, I’d invest every token I could to keep her with me until the day I died. From there, I could only hope someone would take over my role as her caretaker and companion.

“Her tail and ears are much like yours.”

I nodded. “Our generational ship only had the vulpes vulpes as our extra animal. We had mice and rabbits and similar animals in the conservatory, some of which were bred to be prey for our foxes. I suppose my ancestors spent their time working on viable genetic manipulation to improve the fox, and then took the good traits, like their hearing, and manipulated the final generation conceived on board.”

“Like you.”

Bobbing my head, I went through one last round of checking the equipment before freeing him from the remaining cables and sensors. “You’re going to feel unpleasant for another day or two. It’s completely normal. You’ll require light physical therapy, which I’ll guide you through during our mandatory quarantine period.”

“Why are we quarantining?”

“There’s no way of knowing if your ship was contaminated with three corpses on board. It’s standard protocol, especially with mixed species. As you aren’t my same species and we may not share equivalent vaccinations, we’ll have to undergo treatments if we infect each other with passive viruses.”

Delta’s eyes widened. “I hadn’t realized that was a possibility.”

“Usually, mixed species aren’t quarantined, but as there were corpses on board your vessel in advanced stages of decay, we have to follow the rules for those with compromised immune systems. As you are suffering from stasis revival, your immune system is compromised and will be for the next three to five days. In both good and bad news for you, I’m qualified to administer base post-stasis vaccinations, which I will give to you tomorrow.”

“Stasis impairs vaccinations?”

“It disrupts some vaccinations, yes. The immune system has a tendency to wipe the vaccination out during the revival process, and some of the revival medications are known to impair the longevity of certain vaccines. In any case, the vaccinations I carry are suitable for all branches of homo sapiens, so it will be no issue.”

“Are you a doctor?”

I shook my head. “I’m nothing so special. I just prefer to save lives than take them, and the certifications for stasis revival match well with derelict investigations. Your crew, may they rest in peace, did as a good crew does in the face of such disasters. They save who they can.”