Cold Reception -- Part One

t once, all the lights in the station started blinking. Tirotul Urbanich looked up from his journal writing. Whatever was happening, it was big. Tirotul stood and walked over to a small computer terminal built into the north wall of the structure, which was compact and tent-like in appearance, although made out of metal.

The monitor Tirotul watched displayed a seismology reading. There was an aftershock coming. It would be the fifth that morning. There was no time to prepare. Tirotul had just processed what the graph on the screen meant when the quake hit. For a moment he felt panic, but then the tremor passed without so much as disturbing the humble tea service laid out on the table in the center of the station. Apparently the sensors had overestimated the quake's power. The shake-up did, however, knock the low and humble kem'pallah from Tirotul's head. He reverently lifted his hat from the ground and brushed it off, but he did not put it back on. He set it upon a nearby stool instead. It was not that Tirotul did not honor Dezorian tradition; it was simply that modern-day concerns had to take precedence, and the kem'pallah, frankly, had been in his way.

Tirotul sighed. The last quake had been all bark and no bite, but the next time he might not be so lucky. He would have to grin and bear it, however; his studies on the quake-induced changes to the glacier landscape and their effects on the lives of native creatures could drag on for months, and Tirotul was not leaving until his studies were complete.

Tirotul walked over to a closet along the west wall of the station. He opened it and pulled out a snowsuit. Being Dezorian, Tirotul was used to the cold, but not even the heartiest warriors of Dezo's medieval period would have dared brave the dangers of the glacier cliffs and pitfalls without appropriate provisions. A sonic gun and two specialized knives hung from Tirotul's suit belt. He wore a pack on his back which contained food, a first-aid kit, and other supplies, as well as a variety of gadgets which measured and quantified everything from permafrost depth to snow fall to the silent but deadly emissions of unseen gasses.

When Tirotul was outfitted, he moved over to Betty, a whistle-type robot serving as one of his three AI assistants. The small drone ceased the calculations it had been working on and turned its one optic sensor up towards its superior.

"Betty, I am going to look over the epicenter," Tirotul said. "This morning's rumble was a big one. I shall remain in constant radio contact at all times. If ever our radio connection is severed, Bartholomew and Belthasar are to retrieve me immediately. Is that understood?"

Betty made a clicking sound. Her optic moved up and down as if she were nodding. "Affirmative," she said in a feminine but monotone voice.

Tirotul nodded. "Thank you." He turned and stepped outside of the station.

Betty clicked again. "And good luck, Tiro."

In the early afternoon light, the surface of the glacier shone in blue-white, the most frigid color of all. Tirotul was not at all cold, with his thick, fur-lined suit and hearty Dezorian constitution, but even he could not help but shiver when he looked out upon the glacier. It stretched beyond the horizon in all directions, blanketed by a gray sky solid with cloud cover. The station was in the dead center of the glacier, situated upon a smooth and calm plain where the tremors were weak and far between. But just beyond the northern horizon was a much more active stretch. There the quakes happened several times each day. Usually they were mild, but there were exceptions. Mountains of ice jutted up from the surface in that empty land. Some of them had stood silent for centuries; others had been thrust up through the ice quite suddenly and appeared overnight. And between the mountains were the horrible fissures, the bottoms of some of which were so far below in the blue-blackness that they could not be seen even at the height of noon.

It was a very dangerous area to explore. There was little precipitation; the entire glacier was an ice desert. There were no animals to worry about, either, and although veins of gas highly lethal to many species were known to exist in the deeper parts of the Dezorian planetary crust, no leaks of those gasses had ever been detected in the region. What made the glacier north of the station so feared and dangerous was the violent tectonic activity. Groundquakes and eruptions had always been hard to predict, and Tirotul could handle such things. But the first time he saw a mountain-sized blade of ice shoot up from beneath the surface completely without warning, taking half of a ruined and abandoned village with it, Tirotul knew he was dealing with a force of nature the likes of which he had never so much as imagined before.

The ancient hunter in Tirotul's blood yearned to explore the forbidden glacier on foot, but the more rational and scientific (some traditionalists would say "Palmanized," and, indeed, Tirotul's paternal grandfather had been a Palman) part of Tirotul knew that to do such would be folly. He drove a small egg-shaped digger with front-mounted drills instead. A sudden upward surge of ice through the crust would still toss him around like a bean-bag, but the diggers Tirotul used were designed with that very occurrence in mind. Tirotul's digger would survive the flight through the air, or perhaps the fall, and even the terrible crash that would follow. The new diggers were built to be incredibly strong. It was said that not even a stampede of mastodons could dent the vehicles' outer shell, which was, of course, made of pure and solid laconia.

Fortunately for Tirotul, that day's ride to the quake's epicenter was uneventful. There were no more aftershocks and no crust upheavals. It took him less than twenty minutes to reach his destination. He even allowed himself to daydream en route.

There was a new crevice at the site. That in itself was not surprising. Groundquakes in the glacier regions often left fissures of all shapes and sizes. What caused Tirotul to startle was what he saw sticking out from the crack in the ice.

He pulled the digger up beside the phenomenon and stepped out, and his green skin blanched at what he saw. Protruding from the ice was the head, right shoulder, and right arm of some sort of creature. The body, tipped backwards slightly, was still covered by a coat of ice which was completely transparent in some places but solid white in others, so Tirotul could not get an accurate picture of what the entire specimen would look like once thawed.

Tirotul could see that the creature had a somewhat Dezorianoid face. There were two eye sockets, with a hint of a nose between. Below the nose was a lip-less mouth, wide open as if in mid-scream, and filled with broken teeth. The right arm of the creature was outstretched straight forward, as if the beast had been reaching for something when it died. The beast's clawed fingers were curled, as if out of pain or frustration. Tirotul could not be certain, but the creature appeared to be covered with a black or dark blue shell or exoskeleton.

Tirotul gathered his thoughts for a moment and then contacted the station.

"This is Dr. Urbanich here. Betty, do you read me?"

"Yes, Tiro. I am here."

"Betty, I'm sending you my coordinates. I need you to send Bartholomew and Belthasar here at once."

"They are on their way now. Are you in trouble, Tiro?"

"No, Betty. No. I've found something."

"Something?"

"Yeah. It's...it's some kind of animal, sticking out of the ice. It's dead of course, maybe even fossilized, I can't tell. It appears to be a bipedal, probably carnivorous animal. Big. Really big. Probably stood a good four meters tall. Ummm... Some sort of prehistoric predatory animal. That's my guess. God, maybe it's even some sort of proto-Dezorian. I don't know. I don't know."

"This is very exciting," Betty said. Her constant link with Daughter's public datanet confirmed that no species matching the description Tirotul gave was known to have ever been found before. "I have logged your account into the datanet as the discovery of a new species, the current identification of which has been given as Species #12-648."

"Excellent," Tirotul said. "Excellent."

Tirotul continued to ramble on about the thrill of discovery until the two assistant robots arrived. Belthasar came first. Based upon a common design from before the Great Collapse, Belthasar was over four meters in height and green in color. He had a squarish, boxy, solid torso and short but powerful legs that allowed him to move quickly in even the harshest terrain. He had simple, shovel-like hands that could change into drills and blasting guns and back again as needed. There were also two small sonic gun-like turrets hidden beneath a sliding plate on his chest. Being of the robot designation "Large Miner," Belthasar was perfect for procuring the invaluable finds Dr. Tirotul Urbanich and his colleagues were always uncovering.

Trotting along behind Belthasar was Bartholomew, a lanky, almost skeletal, three-meter tall robot based upon Mother Brain's "Twig Man" design. Tirotul never understood why Mother Brain would give one of her creations such an odd name, but as a physical description, the name certainly fit. Bartholomew's "skin" was a peculiar metallic blue-gray color. With a body shaped almost like a grasshopper standing upright on its hind legs, Bartholomew had terribly powerful limbs, hands, and feet that could crush even solid rocks with their grasp. Unlike other robots, Bartholomew had a tail that he balanced on when using his feet as an extra set of hands. The robot moved at lightning speed and could use his long legs to bound over most obstacles. However, his quick movements made him seem fidgety, maybe even nervous. In his mouth, Bartholomew had a plasma-firing cannon which was ideal for melting snow, ice, and even the meters-thick permafrost that covered every square centimeter of planet Dezo.

"That certainly was quick," Tirotul muttered, turning his attention back to the horrific and intriguing carcass jutting out from the ice before him. "As always, your expediency impresses me."

"You are welcome, Dr. Urbanich," the emotionless Belthasar said. "We have no purpose other than to aid your work."

"What do you require of us?" Belthasar asked. Silent Bartholomew, standing beside Belthasar, was as equally nonplused by the incredible sight before him as his robotic companion was.

"Bel, I want you to start digging...here," Tirotul said, pointing to where the back of the creature's neck vanished beneath the ice. "And Bart, I want you to start plasma cutting...here." Tirotul ran his gloved right index finger along the line where the creature's shoulder and the front of its neck stopped and the ice began. "We don't know how deep this thing goes. I'm hoping for the whole body, but what we see might be all there is. At any rate, be careful! We can't risk any damage to the specimen. It's the first of its kind ever found. This is a very proud day for science!" Tirotul, beaming, patted Bart on the back. The insect-like robot looked at its master for a moment, its head cocked to one side, the antennae on its face and scalp twitching spasmodically. Seeing he could get no rise out of machines incapable of feeling, Tirotul sighed and said, "Begin."

Belthasar's digging went slowly. Tirotul noted the fact and sent word to Betty to prepare an examination of both robots. Bartholomew's plasma cutting, however, was always very fast and effective. Within half an hour's time he had completely uncovered the front portion of the creature and helped Belthasar to finish his part of the work, too. The creature was still covered by a shell of ice, however; melting it with Bart's plasma cutter would have posed too great of a risk of damage to the specimen. But the body was no longer locked into the ground and could be at last transported to the station for thawing and further study.

Tirotul stood a few steps away from the steaming ice surrounding the creature and frowned. There was no more body under the ice. What had been uncovered by the quake was all that there was.

"All right," Tirotul said, "we've got to get this thing back to the station. Bel, you take the...top end, it looks heavy. Bart, you grab it here. Okay, now lift!"

The robots were able to lift the carcass successfully, but Tirotul was surprised by how difficult it seemed to be for them. Both robots were designed with strength in mind; Tirotul had expected them to lift the body as easily as he would a feather.

Tirotul took some strong cord out of his pack. The robots used it to tie the specimen to the roof of the digger. They then held on to its sides as Tirotul climbed into the driver's compartment and drove away. Tirotul looked at his watch and realized it was not yet evening. To him the excursion had felt like forever.

On the way back to the station, Tirotul considered what he would name the newly-discovered species. It was every biologist's dream to christen a species he himself introduced to the world, but Tirotul was not at all sure he wanted his name associated with the terrifying creature now lying dead on the roof of his digger. He shuddered every time he imagined the beast's gaping mouth, twisted claw, and black, empty eye sockets. It was a terror to behold in death; Tirotul was grateful he never had to see it alive. Or maybe, in a sense, he had already. Could the creature truly have been a member of an ancient, primitive, and utterly brutal proto-Dezorian species? The thought made Tirotul's head spin. Would such a discovery, and the revelations sure to follow, be a triumph or a tragedy?

The ride back to the metal tent was as uneventful as the trip to the specimen's resting place had been. Tirotul gave a silent prayer of thanks for that. The discovery had sent Tirotul's head into such a spin that he would never have been able to think clearly in an emergency. God provides, he thought. And with that thought, he smiled.

When they arrived, Tirotul immediately hopped out of the digger to help Belthasar and Bartholomew unload the specimen. However, by the time Tirotul made his way to where the robots were working, they had already untied the body and begun hauling it over to the station's entrance. Tirotul, always very much aware of his shortness and spindly build, backed off and let the robots go about their business without his interference. Instead he moved over to the flap of the metal tent, and pulled the left end aside. Betty, still busy with calculations deep in the tent, noticed the commotion and moved over to the right side of the flap. She pressed her small, conical body against it, opening the small station's entryway as wide as it would go.

Although by definition a tent, the station was by no means cramped. There was enough room for Tirotul and all three of his robotic assistants to stand inside shoulder to shoulder (or, in Betty's case, shoulder to upper sensory module), and there was more than enough space on the table along the southern wall of the structure for the specimen to lay flat on its back, its empty eye sockets and groping mitt straining vainly for the steel ceiling which hung above.

"First things first," Tirotul said, peeling off his suit, which he stored away in the closet. "Let's get the specimen out of that ice. Betty, I believe that's your department."

At the mention of her name, Betty made her way towards the body on the table. Several small laser-beamed cutting devices emerged from her "face" and slowly began slicing away the chunks of ice closest to the creature's skin, always careful not to touch the body itself. Meanwhile, Belthasar turned a warm vent on the entire body which began to slowly melt its icy covering. Bartholomew opened the pack Tirotul had been wearing, which had been set upon a different table, and began removing instruments Dr. Urbanich would need to run his tests on the specimen. While all this was going on, Dr. Urbanich himself sat excitedly before a computer, recording all he had seen and thought since making his discovery. He was absolutely certain that that day would go down in history as one of paleozoology's (and perhaps even anthropology's) greatest moments.

Within twenty minutes, the specimen's cold casing had melted away. Even the resulting water had been evaporated by the warm air currents Belthasar continued to generate.

Tirotul rubbed his hands together and stood before the specimen. For the first time, he could see the entire thing without any sheets of ice obscuring the view.

"Remarkable," Tirotul said, a voice recorder running in the background. "All I can say is...'wow.' I am definitely leaning towards saying that this specimen was a member of a primitive Dezorian race. The face and body shape closely resemble those of a Dezorian. From what we have learned from our studies of races throughout the known galaxy, this body type -- a torso with two arms, most likely two legs, and a head with Dezorian-like facial structure -- seems to denote intelligence. In fact, all intelligent races we have encountered, save for the Musk Cats, would match this description."

"Well, whatever this creature was, it was obviously incredibly powerful, physically. The legs and greater part of the chest are missing, but I am guessing that the specimen, when standing upright, would have been over four meters tall. Mmmm... That might make the arm unproportionately large, I'll have to consider this further."

Tirotul took a small scalpel from a nearby table and began to prod about in crevices on the creature's neck.

"The entire body is covered by a thick exoskeleton. It's nearly black in color. No telling what the original color was. I'm guessing dark green, no, blue. The mouth is quite large. Looks like there were only four teeth, but from the size of these indentations in the jaw-line, four teeth were all this animal needed. Might have been more teeth but I can't tell yet. Bel, it's getting cold in here. Turn up the heat, okay? Betty, go see if the flap is sealed tight. Right. Oh, the left eye socket appears to have been scraped empty. The specimen must have lost its eye in combat. Unless it fell on something... Bel, I said turn up the heat, please. Mmmm. I am now examining the exposed underside of the creature, where the rest of the body was severed from this portion. The exposed area seems to have deteriorated, crystallized. I can't identify any internal structures. Belthasar, is there a problem? I told you--!"

"Dr. Urbanich, I have increased heat output to maximum levels."

Tirotul blinked and looked at Betty. "Betty, seal the flap."

"The flap is sealed, Tiro." The whistle whistled. She ceased her calculations for the first time. Her one eye stared into Tirotul's.

Tirotul glanced at Bartholomew. His facial antennae were fidgeting, as always. It was at times like these that Tirotul wished Bart had a real face. It was impossible to tell if the robot was thinking anything when he had no features Tirotul could recognize.

"Why is it so damn cold in here?" Tirotul asked, setting his scalpel down beside the specimen and picking up a different tool. "Do something about it. Now where was I? Ah, yes. Although the entire body is covered by an exoskeleton, the area around the mouth, the gums I would call it, although these gums are both external as well as internal, appear to have been soft. Mmmm, the area around the mouth has been particularly well-preserved." Tirotul turned around. "Betty, prepare the x-ray, will you?" Tirotul reached around his back for the scalpel, but could not find it. He turned around then, curious, and found the scalpel -- it was being plunged into his right shoulder.

Tirotul let out a scream and looked at the hand that was holding the small blade. His eyes found an arm connected to the hand, and at the end of the arm his eyes met a shoulder. Tirotul's gaze then moved farther upwards, and locked with the vacant sockets of his attacker.

The specimen, propped up on its armless side, gave a toothless smile. "Fool Dezorians never learn," it said, but in an ancient Dezorian dialect Tirotul did not understand. The blind creature chuckled. The air which escaped its lips gave off such a rank odor that Tirotul fainted dead away, the scalpel still planted in his shoulder.

"Do not try anything," the creature said to the three robots, which were by then primed to attack. The robots continued to charge their weapons; the beast could sense the building energy. Realizing that speaking in old Dezorian was proving ineffective, the creature spoke again, this time in the ancient Palman tongue of Palmalatin. "Atemnon le iem."

The smallest robot ceased all movement. Apparently it understood.

"Tell thy friends to cease whatever it is they art doing," the creature said, again in Palmalatin.

"Stop powering your weapons," Betty said to Belthasar and Bartholomew over a private channel the three shared. "The creature is conducting its own power. It is great power, much stronger than our weaponry."

"But it is not a machine," Belthasar said.

"I realize this," Betty responded. "The energy I am detecting must be magical in nature. Yes, my attempts to analyze the energy are unsuccessful. It is a type of power I cannot understand. Therefore, it must be magic."

The exchange took less than a second. Pleased that the robots had ceased powering their weapons, the creature fell back onto the table and, with its one hand, groped at where its eyes would be.

Damn thee, N'gan, the creature thought. Thou thought thou hast killed me, but no. What thou didst was far worse. I was not dead, merely ravaged. Sightless, crippled, trapped for six thousand years in an icy mausoleum. And I was conscious, alive, painfully alive, for every second of it. But I am now free, N'gan. My sepulcher hath borne me out anew, and I hast been rescued by one of thy own kind. How good it feels, N'gan, to again be warm, and in control.

The re-animated specimen faced Betty, for it was within the smallest robot that the creature detected the greatest knowledge.

"I cannot see," it said, still in Palmalatin. "Thou must bringeth here a wizard who can properly repair the damage wrought on mine eyes."

Betty beeped and said, hesitantly, "I myself canst repair the damage, unless thy physiology, which I hast already observed to be very different from other life I hast studied, is even more different than I anticipate."

The demon waved its arm in exasperation. "Do as thou must!" it cried. "I care not for thy strange tongue!"

"I ask that my companions be allowed to see to Tiro's wounds," Betty said, not moving, yet.

"What?" the creature asked. "The Dezorian? Do as thou likes. Just be quick about my eyes!"

Betty looked at Belthasar and Bartholomew. Bel picked Tirotul up and placed him on the table where the tea service had sat earlier. Bart fished the first-aid kit of Tirotul's pack and began nursing the doctor's wounded shoulder.

Betty wheeled over to the creature. "Lay on thy side," she instructed.

The creature rolled over obediently. It had nothing to fear from following the small robot's orders. One false move on her part, and Betty would be quickly and easily destroyed. Both she and the creature knew that.

Betty began examining the creature's eyes and brain. As she developed a plan for returning the creature's sight, she said, "May I ask who thou art?"

"I hath been known by many names," the creature whispered, hoarsely. "Men on other worlds, in other times, called me the One Most High, or The Master. But my chosen name, as well as the name given me by my vilest enemy, is Dark Force. And that, small one, is what thou shalt call me."