M114 - Commander Richard Smith - Day Two P.M.
From Create Your Own Story
It was about an hour before the evening meal was to be served that Commander Smith got a call on his CommLink from Able-Bodied Spaceman Forrest Ripley. The expert in Xenobiology was in one of the stone dwellings that Carter’s team had taken over for storage. There were bones, pottery, weapons and tools strewn about. Most were still encrusted in dirt, probably with the intent of being cleaned later. Several empty packing crates were shoved into one corner. Ripley had dragged one of those away from the wall and was using it as a make-shift table. A couple of skulls, a few statuettes, and a modern carrying case, very much like a brief case, were on top of the crate.
“You got something for me?” Commander Smith asked as he entered the abode. Sunlight from the doorway provided the only illumination. Spaceman Ripley handed Commander Smith four strips of narrow paper. Horizontal colored bars covered the centers of the strips, and in the right margins were hand-written notes. “What am I looking at here?”
“DNA analysis,” Ripley answered, gesturing to the open carrying case with its dials, buttons, recessed openings and printer slot. The Captain glanced at it and asked, “You brought that onboard with you?”
“Yes, Sir,” Ripley replied. “A DNA Analyzer is as basic to my profession as a blaster is to yours.”
The Captain quirked an eyebrow at the Spacer and told him, “While you’re on this voyage, toting a blaster is part of your job, too.”
“Er, yes, Sir,” Ripley answered. “Sorry, Sir.”
“It’s alright,” Commander Smith brushed the un-intentional insubordination aside. “Tell me about this.”
Ripley picked up a skull, it was about the size and shape of a small human’s or large chimpanzee’s, only with a different type of teeth and a more protruding brow. “This strip,” he fingered one, “Was taken from this skull.” The Captain nodded and Ripley placed the skull down to pick up a bronze figure. It was of a warrior, complete with sword and shield. Twisting it from side to side, he said, “Notice how the head resembles that skull?” Again Commander Smith nodded and Ripley pointed to a second strip. “That is my DNA. Hold it side-by-side to the ‘warrior’s strip.” Commander Smith did and scowled.
“Not even close, right?” Ripley asked as he set down the statuette to pick up a smaller skull. The eye-sockets were much bigger, the brow less pronounced, there were no nasal openings nor teeth. “This is the DNA for this skull. Check that out against the first two.”
Commander Smith did, commenting, “The three are totally different.”
“Exactly,” Ripley replied, trying to control his excitement. “*Now* This…,” he carefully picked up blank strip of paper with a strand of hair taped to it, “Is from our, er, friend.”
Commander Smith smiled slyly, “I can about imagine how you obtained it.”
Ripley looked away from the Captain’s gaze, visibly flustered. “Er, uh… yes, Sir.” Then, clearing his throat, he pointed to the fourth strip of paper with the colored bars. “*That* is the DNA analysis of her hair.”
Without being prompted this time. The Captain compared the fourth strip to the other three. His eyes slowly widened as his jaw lowered. “The third and fourth are the same.”
“Absolutely!” Ripley exclaimed, taking the third and fourth strips from Commander Smith. Holding them so that they overlap, he pointed several times to various bars. “They are not exact matches, of course. They are from different individuals but even a layman… Uh, no Offense, Sir.”
“None taken,” Commander Smith immediately replied.
“So, er, anyone can see,” Ripley concluded. “That they are definitely the same species.”
The Captain handed the remaining two strips of paper back to the Spaceman and picked up the smaller skull. He slowly stroked the tips of his index and middle fingers over the facial portion of it, commenting, “No nostrils.”
“I’m not sure of the significance of that, yet,” Ripley said, “But…” He glanced around the room at the carved pieces of stone fitted together to form the walls and ceilings. “It looks like whoever built this, were not the same people as our friend. Of course, Harrison, er, Spaceman Jones is better qualified to tell you that."
“No nostrils,” Commander Smith repeated, still staring down at the skull. Finally, he returned it to the crate top and nodded to Ripley. “Good job, Spacer. Good job.”
As the Captain exited towards the door, the Able-Bodied Spaceman called out, “I’ll let you know if I learn anything more.”
