My Cousin Alex
May. 18th, 2017 05:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
My Cousin Alex
It was speculated, sometimes with a little envy, that my cousin Alex's success was often simply down to good luck, and his tendency to stand out in a crowd.
In school, he had cropped his bright ginger hair to skinhead length in self-defence against the bullies, but as he grew, and went to university, he discovered that a flaming mane of hair could be useful in getting noticed. And realised that being the one who was remembered could be to his advantage. Even the papers, when he got famous, kept referring to it... but that's getting ahead of myself.
Thing is, he was just really bloody lucky. Don't get me wrong, he was very talented, did work hard - and did give credit to the rest of his team - but often he would just seem to be the one with the experiment that worked, or have the right inspiration at the right time. Brilliant, noticeable and lucky.
I tried not to hate him!
So it was almost a given that he would be chosen for the first manned mission.
----------------
The satellite (not "moon" as he would remind us) was smaller than Earth, larger than Mars, and as far as we could tell, completely barren. This was somewhat of a mystery; the theorists all thought that a world with reasonable gravity and temperature, and free-running water, was almost certain to have life of some sort.
But the unmanned vessels with their probes and cameras and drills had failed to find even a microbe. They had, however, found space that seemed perfect for terraforming. And minerals. Lots of them.
Some editorials wondered if it were really too good to be true. Had we really found a rich, fertile, empty planet (satellite) just ready for us to walk in and claim occupancy?
Certainly Smita, Alex's intended, was sceptical. On the UN science council, she argued in favour of more exploratory missions first. Discovering the reason for the apparent wasteland was necessary before sending any people.
Countering this was that they had found no risks. No unduly severe weather in the proposed landing area. No dangerous radiation had been detected. No indigenous life.
Exactly, her team had argued. No life. Why?
The other side threw up their hands. Who knows? It's a big universe - and we can't afford to miss this opportunity.
Opportunity? Opportunity for profit! they retorted.
And what's wrong with that? came the reply.
----------------
Alex did actually agree with Smita. He knew she was making sense - that the prudent route would be to take their time and get more data... but he really WANTED to go. So when the vote went against the cautious course - by one vote - he did try, but couldn't help grinning from ear to ear.
Climbing into the ship, he couldn't quite ignore the feeling in his gut that she was right, but pushed down the fear.
She was right, of course.
----------------
The long journey with three crew crammed together, even with relative comfort, resulted in barely buried irritations and a lot of snappishness. Then it all became a distant memory as they entered orbit. It was beautiful.
Mountain ranges topped with brilliant snow drifted past. The severe grey of the rock smoothed its way to the sea, where erosion, unhindered by plants, had washed the coastline into intricate shapes, covered by a fine sand.
They landed on a smooth plain. Desperate to get outside, they giggled like children as they clambered into their suits.
----------------
The soft, deep dusty surface made walking difficult. Tracks were ploughed and the fine debris lifted into a silvery mist around them.
Nothing stirred.
Instruments were produced through the airlock, and measurements taken. The world looked like it would fulfil every promise the initial scans had made.
On the third day, they were as satisfied as they could be that it was safe. Alex, always curious, took off his glove to touch the new world.
The balance of oxygen in the air altered. The equilibrium was disturbed. The slight chemical difference was detected, and the response hardwired into their being was triggered.
Under the surface, a current moved.
The soft rustling of tiny particles passing over each other was not picked up through the headsets. The wave moved to the centre of the disturbance.
It could tell.
Another had come.
----------------
Alex stretched his hand out to the dust.
The dust stretched out to his hand.
Before he had time to pull back, a ravenous column of dust reared out of the ground. His scream was smothered by its flowing over him, swamping him in a towering tentacle from the barren ground.
They ran. They tried to run. Sinking into the dust, they scrambled and clambered their way towards the ship; it had only been a few short metres away; now it was immeasurable, unfathomable metres out of their reach.
Only Alex was engulfed. Margo reached the door first, and dragged out the safety line. Clipping herself to the airlock, she plunged into the swirling tower, and felt Alex's flailing grasp. Clinging to him, she jerked the line; Dan pulled them back into the airlock, where directed blasts managed to clear the dust.
The suit had reacted correctly; the rest of his body was safe. All that was left of his hand was a string of gristle; one remaining dust particle swallowed it and swelled with its meal.
----------------
They all survived, and sent back word that this planet was not suitable for colonisation. Where these leeches had come from - whether they were natural or manufactured, whether they had evolved naturally, or if they were some kind of biological weapon, analysis of the one sample was clear.
It was designed to consume any life-form. When changes due to respiration were detected, its teeth - blades? - extended and it latched on to any biological material, sucked it dry, and consumed the remains.
They were all heroes on their return. Alex and Smita married, and his reputation was only enhanced by his robotic hand.
And that is the story of how my cousin, Alexander Flaming, discovered the anti-bio tick.
It was speculated, sometimes with a little envy, that my cousin Alex's success was often simply down to good luck, and his tendency to stand out in a crowd.
In school, he had cropped his bright ginger hair to skinhead length in self-defence against the bullies, but as he grew, and went to university, he discovered that a flaming mane of hair could be useful in getting noticed. And realised that being the one who was remembered could be to his advantage. Even the papers, when he got famous, kept referring to it... but that's getting ahead of myself.
Thing is, he was just really bloody lucky. Don't get me wrong, he was very talented, did work hard - and did give credit to the rest of his team - but often he would just seem to be the one with the experiment that worked, or have the right inspiration at the right time. Brilliant, noticeable and lucky.
I tried not to hate him!
So it was almost a given that he would be chosen for the first manned mission.
----------------
The satellite (not "moon" as he would remind us) was smaller than Earth, larger than Mars, and as far as we could tell, completely barren. This was somewhat of a mystery; the theorists all thought that a world with reasonable gravity and temperature, and free-running water, was almost certain to have life of some sort.
But the unmanned vessels with their probes and cameras and drills had failed to find even a microbe. They had, however, found space that seemed perfect for terraforming. And minerals. Lots of them.
Some editorials wondered if it were really too good to be true. Had we really found a rich, fertile, empty planet (satellite) just ready for us to walk in and claim occupancy?
Certainly Smita, Alex's intended, was sceptical. On the UN science council, she argued in favour of more exploratory missions first. Discovering the reason for the apparent wasteland was necessary before sending any people.
Countering this was that they had found no risks. No unduly severe weather in the proposed landing area. No dangerous radiation had been detected. No indigenous life.
Exactly, her team had argued. No life. Why?
The other side threw up their hands. Who knows? It's a big universe - and we can't afford to miss this opportunity.
Opportunity? Opportunity for profit! they retorted.
And what's wrong with that? came the reply.
----------------
Alex did actually agree with Smita. He knew she was making sense - that the prudent route would be to take their time and get more data... but he really WANTED to go. So when the vote went against the cautious course - by one vote - he did try, but couldn't help grinning from ear to ear.
Climbing into the ship, he couldn't quite ignore the feeling in his gut that she was right, but pushed down the fear.
She was right, of course.
----------------
The long journey with three crew crammed together, even with relative comfort, resulted in barely buried irritations and a lot of snappishness. Then it all became a distant memory as they entered orbit. It was beautiful.
Mountain ranges topped with brilliant snow drifted past. The severe grey of the rock smoothed its way to the sea, where erosion, unhindered by plants, had washed the coastline into intricate shapes, covered by a fine sand.
They landed on a smooth plain. Desperate to get outside, they giggled like children as they clambered into their suits.
----------------
The soft, deep dusty surface made walking difficult. Tracks were ploughed and the fine debris lifted into a silvery mist around them.
Nothing stirred.
Instruments were produced through the airlock, and measurements taken. The world looked like it would fulfil every promise the initial scans had made.
On the third day, they were as satisfied as they could be that it was safe. Alex, always curious, took off his glove to touch the new world.
The balance of oxygen in the air altered. The equilibrium was disturbed. The slight chemical difference was detected, and the response hardwired into their being was triggered.
Under the surface, a current moved.
The soft rustling of tiny particles passing over each other was not picked up through the headsets. The wave moved to the centre of the disturbance.
It could tell.
Another had come.
----------------
Alex stretched his hand out to the dust.
The dust stretched out to his hand.
Before he had time to pull back, a ravenous column of dust reared out of the ground. His scream was smothered by its flowing over him, swamping him in a towering tentacle from the barren ground.
They ran. They tried to run. Sinking into the dust, they scrambled and clambered their way towards the ship; it had only been a few short metres away; now it was immeasurable, unfathomable metres out of their reach.
Only Alex was engulfed. Margo reached the door first, and dragged out the safety line. Clipping herself to the airlock, she plunged into the swirling tower, and felt Alex's flailing grasp. Clinging to him, she jerked the line; Dan pulled them back into the airlock, where directed blasts managed to clear the dust.
The suit had reacted correctly; the rest of his body was safe. All that was left of his hand was a string of gristle; one remaining dust particle swallowed it and swelled with its meal.
----------------
They all survived, and sent back word that this planet was not suitable for colonisation. Where these leeches had come from - whether they were natural or manufactured, whether they had evolved naturally, or if they were some kind of biological weapon, analysis of the one sample was clear.
It was designed to consume any life-form. When changes due to respiration were detected, its teeth - blades? - extended and it latched on to any biological material, sucked it dry, and consumed the remains.
They were all heroes on their return. Alex and Smita married, and his reputation was only enhanced by his robotic hand.
And that is the story of how my cousin, Alexander Flaming, discovered the anti-bio tick.