Spirit Walk_ Enemy of My Enemy (Book 2) - Christie Golden [24]
Evolution from some sort of primate was common, if not entirely universal among humanoids, but as the process was usually long and slow, it was hard to pinpoint when a species made that transition. Kaz liked the term humans had given this in-between state—“The Missing Link.” They’d never found concrete evidence of that point in their evolution when the monkey became the man. Few other species had, either; this evolutionary moment was so subtle, so fleeting, that concrete evidence was rarely found.
He wondered if that was what he was seeing here. The idea excited him. He thought about waking Patel to tell her what he’d discovered, but decided to wait until he was certain.
“Computer,” he said, his voice taut, “run a comparison with this DNA against all known samples in the database. Cite closest matches.”
Even as fast as the computer was, this was a huge request, and it took several seconds before the crisp, feminine voice cited the answer.
“Submitted DNA sample has been identified as human.”
“What?” Kaz yelped, as if the computer was a person and not a machine.
And then the computer delivered the most shocking statement yet: “Closest matches in database: Marius Fortier and Captain Chakotay.”
Chapter 8
IT WAS STARTLING, to think how much the quadrant had changed in a mere three years.
When Crell Moset had been transported out of the Adventure’s brig onto the small cloaked ship that belonged to his future friend the Changeling, the Cardassians were still a proud and powerful race. Now, Cardassia was broken, beaten, struggling with idiotic notions of democracy. They were a defeated people.
The thought appalled and infuriated Moset. Once he had thought of a pleasant scientific alliance with some of the more advanced species of the Federation. Now, even if such a thing were possible, he would spit upon the idea. Humans, Vulcans, Trill, Bolians, Bajorans—Betazoids—he had nothing but contempt and hatred for them all. The only value they had was what they could do for him, for his experiments.
Which was why these new beings were his hope.
He cooed to them as they huddled in their cell, staring at him with wide black eyes. One of them ran a clawed paw across a streaming nose.
Moset turned off the forcefield and beckoned to one of them. It was the youngest, one of only a few young ones they had found and the only one that had survived. Moset had named him Kaymar, after his father. Kaymar was his favorite.
Kaymar looked at him and then lumbered forward, placing his forepaw—no, thought the scientist, his hand—in Moset’s.
“That’s my good boy,” Moset said approvingly. “Now, you know what to do.”
Indeed it did. Kaymar hopped onto the slightly raised table and sat patiently, bleating from time to time and scratching at the occasional parasite.
Moset touched the computer, adjusting the proportions of the components for the next treatment. A tweak here, a nudge there—he began to hum, nodding his approval at what he saw. The touch of a padd prepared the hypospray.
“Now, my boy,” he said to Kaymar, “give me your paw.”
Obediently the creature stuck out a foreleg. Moset felt for the soft, fleshy part of its upper arm and pressed the hypo. Kaymar looked at him expectantly. Moset chuckled, went to the replicator, and programmed a Cardassian delicacy—a ripe, juicy ulyu. He handed it to Kaymar, who hooted softly and began to devour the scarlet fruit.
While the little fellow was thus occupied, Moset scanned him with the tricorder. A little better: the DNA from Chakotay seemed to be having a slight effect. But not nearly as much as he hoped.
Kaymar finished the ulyu and sniffed about for more. Gently Moset guided him back to the cell and erected the forcefield. He had had it programmed so that it was visible to the naked eye; the creatures needed to be able to see the barrier or else they would wander into it. And the absolute last thing Crell Moset wanted was to