The Expanse - J.M. Dillard [51]
Grief was a strange thing: Trip was beginning to understand what Reed had been trying to say about closure, about a way of saying good-bye—but the Xindi had taken that away.
Because even if the Xindi were stopped, even if Trip managed to feel that some measure of justice had been done, there would always be one fact that would forever haunt him: He would never know exactly how Lizzie had died.
Chapter 12
In sickbay, Phlox was presenting the results of his findings to Captain Archer.
Humans were curious creatures; Phlox found them fascinating, especially in terms of their complex emotional reactions to events. He found that he had to temper his enthusiasm for science when around them, especially the Captain, who of late only wanted to hear the information he needed that would help him locate the Xindi. Then there was Lieutenant Trip, of course, and his difficulties concerning the loss of his sister. While Denobulans grieved the loss of a loved one, they did not discriminate between different types of grief, the way humans did: For example, Phlox would mourn the peaceful passing of an elderly relative in precisely the same manner he would mourn the traumatic death of a younger one: dying was dying.
And the doctor was just beginning to wonder whether he should be concerned about the state of Archer’s mental health: the Captain was beginning to hyperfocus on the Xindi. This was necessary—to an extent. But he had noted that Archer had entirely given up socializing with other crew members, and was no longer checking out books from the ship’s library. While the success of the mission was extremely critical, so was the Captain’s mental health.
As Archer stood nearby, watching Phlox manipulate the microscope’s controls, the doctor reminded himself to keep things brief.
Even so, as he brought up the display of alien cells on the monitor so the Captain could view them, Phlox couldn’t help making at wry face at the severed finger. It sat exposed on a tray beside the delicate scalpels used to obtain micrometer-thin slices.
“A blood sample would’ve been sufficient,” the doctor remarked. “Some saliva ...”
Archer, ever intense, demanded, “Is it Xindi?”
Phlox wanted to be direct, but he first had to be honest. “Yes ... and no.”
The Captain scowled. “I need something a little more concrete, Doctor.”
Phlox explained. “The genetic profile is nearly identical to the tissue samples taken from the corpse found on Earth. ... Their base-pair sequencing is far closer than, say, humans and chimpanzees. Nearly identical, but not quite.”
Archer contemplated this. “Like humans and Neanderthals?”
“A reasonable analogy.” Phlox moved to a nearby monitor and pressed a control, causing a three-dimensional model of an alien humanoid to rotate slowly on the screen. “After analyzing the skeletal remains of the Xindi corpse,” he said, “and the tissue samples I was given, I was able to provide the computer with enough data to create this rendering.” He nodded at the alien face displayed before them, with its slit-like nostrils and fine, gleaming scales. “However, this humanoid is reptilian ... that finger”—he inclined his head toward the tray—“is not. It’s covered with skin, not unlike yours or mine. But it’s Xindi all the same.”
Archer’s expression grew pensive; at the same time, Phlox noted a slight glimmer of fascination, an echo of the excitement he, the doctor, had felt upon making such a discovery. On most of the planets discovered so far, the mammals had been the ones to evolve intelligence; more rarely, the reptilians had succeeded. But he had never heard before of a world where both groups had achieved ascendancy at the same time.
“I wish I could be more helpful, Captain,” Phlox said, just as Commander Tucker entered the room. The doctor had no doubt as to the Commander’s purpose here.