He needed to collect fresh samples of the only known microbe on Fabar – the one that was modified by barian scientists for use in the now illegal organic computers they’d used in the artefact they’d been commissioned to make for the original Tasla. What a mess that had become! A modified microbe mutating most of an entire race into aggressive galaxy-roaming beings who had invaded Earth to make sure humans didn’t get the same “advantage” they did from the what Earth called the Pandora infection. The mutated Tasla were obsessed with finding all the infectious DNA in the galaxy and wiping it out to ensure they were the only beings who could be “strengthened” by it. It did make them strong and healthy, but with a disposition such that the rest of the galaxy wished to wipe them out along with the infectious DNA.
Meanwhile, the Fabar felt terrible about inadvertently causing a galactic crisis. It was understandable why they had sent humans packing so they wouldn’t discover that fact. How would the Fabar know that humans would sympathise and help instead of seeking revenge like the Octopoid marauders?
What he was doing now was illegal. What would happen if the wrong bari found out? He shivered a bit. He didn’t like the idea of being shunned. He found he really loved being rather idolised for his music. That was just crazy, really. His genetics worth was really much more important, yet it was his music the baris almost revered him for. To satisfy their appetite for his little creations, he had to spend all his spare time dreaming up new tunes and working them up with his buddies into a couple of minutes of pure pleasure.
Ramone stopped in his tracks. There was a single boulder in front of him. There was no way around it, no footing on either side of it. Involuntarily, he looked down to what he would fall to if he slipped while scaling it. A shockwave went up is body as he realised where he really was standing. He was on a nice level path, but three feet to the left and two to the right was a drop off so steep and so far he couldn’t see where he’d land.
He pulled his eyes away and focused solely on the boulder, which he realised was a rocky outcrop solidly attached to the volcanic mountain. It was four feet wide, so really there was lots of room for his whole body to be against it. Now that he studied it and only it, and stopped thinking about the edges, he noticed a nice little slope, and – yay, foot-holes! From the looks of it, someone had chipped away at the sheer rock to make a little staircase. Not really stairs, but good deep pockets to place a boot. Why hadn’t he brought some of those things mountain climbers used on Earth? He’d never done it, but he’s seen on vids how people hammered spikes and had safety harnesses. Where would he have got them from, though? Recreational climbing wasn’t a thing around here, and he couldn’t explain where and why he was doing this. He sighed. Best get going. Now that he approached what had looked insurmountable he saw how do-able the climb really was. They were the same colour as the rock, but he could see someone had placed a few grips near the holes. He did an experimental step and tested the first grip. It held fast, solidly nailed in it seemed. Breathing a sigh of relief, he made his way up carefully. Not falling was easy, really. No problem. Just don’t look down.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish