Alien Provocateur: Trust No One
A trope-filled twist on the Pugno spider experiments
“SO, YOU’RE SAYING I should undertake this rescue mission in my natural form?”
The question skipped around the secret alcoves of Mars 381’s Strategic Chambers. Some eavesdroppers took notes, some scurried away, and some summoned more eavesdroppers. Inside, D’har, Commander of the Rimmed Sector, stood resolute. “I expect new DNA, Prime—just like any other agent. The deal for risking my life is simple: I sign up; you indulge.”
Prime Diligence X1X nodded his agreement. “But Alaenea’s running out of time! Remember your vows, Rimmer. Honour and duty!”
“Remember yours, Diligence. Cash and money! Six million gold fingers per semester in perpetuity.”
“Granted. I simply fear for my wife’s safety. It seems Earth’s scientists have been carrying out experiments on one of their wildlife. They’ve classified her among their local genus of arachnids. This one is something they call the Pholcidae spider.” Diligence’s tone hinted more at annoyance than concern. “You know, I was never happy with this self-experimenting phase of hers. They’re virtually water-boarding her.”
“What the hell for?”
“Testing secretions. As it happens, she’s produced something from all the carbon nanotubes and graphene flakes they’re dousing her with. A dragline silk, unmatched in tensile strength and ductility. Successfully trialled as both body armour and a tow rope. Even she’s impressed. They’re calling it Pugnonium, after their lead scientist.”
“Who’s that?”
“Nicola Pugno. In a place called Trento. He’s running all over the planet, messing with mechanics. Seems he’s trying to create biocomposites.”
Dhar’s eyes flickered a brief blood ruby. “Pugnonium. And they’ve named it after him? Not her? That’s some nerve.”
Diligence X1X nodded. “Everyone covets.”
Alaenea was M-381’s top scientist. Adventurous and warm-hearted, brilliant but maverick, her work on cross-species transition was always a risk. Eight weeks ago, an exploratory solo flight had led to her capture, followed by her subjection to a plethora of pointless trials at the hands of the perfidious Earthlings.
“They’re thinking about weapons, physiological enhancement, everything.”
D’har frowned. “Why doesn’t she just shift back to normal?”
“She thinks it might traumatise them.” Prime Diligence made a squealing noise that on the destination planet would translate as something called a sigh. “Only Alaenea would consider observing experiments on herself. They’ve even given her a nickname. Flossy the Pholcidae Spider. She thinks it’s sweet. ‘Primum, non nocere,’ she says. “It’s some babble that’s listed as one of their languages. It means: First, do no harm.”
No, D’har thought. First, do plenty of harm.
As he scanned the Earth guises available, he acknowledged the irony. Alaenea had actively supervised the genetic development of each one. Earth’s bizarre people had created mythological champions from abstract concepts they called fairies, dragons, banshees, duppies, and so on. It seemed they weren’t aware that a few genetic processes could easily catalyze all these fantasies into reality.
For the moment however, he had a fool’s game to play with her husband. “Hmm, I guess I could find a host. That Earth politician's guise reminds me of old Thalar Thirdbane Halfhand.”
Diligence regretfully demurred. “I’m afraid all of Earth’s politicians are booked up, and, in some cases, over-occupied. But what about this one? It has two respiratory slits, a little ocular quirkiness—eyes of ‘cornflower blue’ or ‘obsidian’ are a must when it comes to visiting this planet. The head’s a little off: ten inches across the apex tapering down to a millimetre. But the framework should still keep you upright.”
“In Earth’s funky atmosphere?” D’har barked a laugh. “Barely. I see you’ve got some base human, though. Blondan Beautiful or Darkan Sinister. So, where’s Blondan Sinister and Darkan Beautiful?”
Prime ignored the question. “Our intelligence reports that male humans carry a concealed device below their abdomen. It’s extendable and explosive. Choose wisely.”
“Moving on. How about this crocodile disguise?”
“A reptilian? You’d be made in a heartbeat.”
Secretly, Diligence longed to cuff D’har round his hairy oxlike jawbone.
He truly was an insult to dumb oxen, falling for that old nonsense about the human penis. The barbarian was tailor-made for betrayal, and betrayal was what he was going to get.
Diligence’s household had already been in contact with Earth’s scientists and had initiated an exchange deal for Alaenea. All that they were waiting on was the arrival of this brain-dead substitute he was trying to have an intelligent conversation with.
He stopped in front of another of Earth's life forms and turned to D’har with a courtly bow. “Try the octopus. Many of Earth’s humans live in utter dread of visitors with tentacles.”
D’har looked interested. “Ok. But can I have one with those blond-blue-hair-eye effects?”
Diligence tried not to rub his gums together in frustration. “Certainly, if you want to resemble a monstrous freak. Although, from what I understand of the culture in this region, you could lose a few tentacles and keep the blue-hair-blond-eyes elements. It would instantly transform you into a legendary knockout in some regions.”
His glance flitted between D’har and the octopus guise. “Speaking of which, how’s your half human half fish siren song singing?”
D’har stared him down. “I have a better idea.” He produced a shiny Rimmelan coin. “Call it.”
“Missed you, barbarian.”
“Missed you more, Flossy.”
Leaving Earth space in his UFO-shaped craft, Dhar’s cornflower blues slid over his childhood sweetheart. Navigating while stretched thin as shit and ten transparent feet tall had taken some effort, but Alaenea was worth it.
The memory of those long, sensuous tussles in her lab made his tiny mouth twitch in a smile. After breaking down the components of her pearly silk, Earth’s scientists had abruptly ended all trials. Still, they were ecstatic with their new guinea pig: a murderous Rimmelan assassin shipped out by persons unknown and mysteriously presented on their doorstep, all trussed up and prepped for experimentation.
Rumour among Earth’s scientists was that he was an Emperor of some sort. And if it was true, then his royal lineage would herald a new dawn in scientific achievement.
“Ship, set coordinates.”
The ship purred a prime vocal register. “Destination and optimal speed, Commander?”
D’har leaned over and attached his tiny lips to one of Alaenea’s voluptuous multi-bosoms. “Set a course for The Outer Rims: subtropical sector, ship. Key in the long route to Elopia.”
Word count: 1040
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