Hybrid Space

By Leslie D. Soule

Regas thought he was the only human-animal hybrid on The Empress, the ship belonging to a mysterious organization known as T-Tech. When another hybrid comes to set him free, he is torn between the world he knows, and one that seems too good to be true. The other hybrids want to escape to a whole new world, trusting their fates to their swift lit

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gypsy Shadow Publishing
• Release date: Mar 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9781619504325

Leslie D. Soule

Leslie Soule is an author who likes to experiment within the fantasy genre. She is the author of the novel Fallenwood and she lives in Sacramento, California.

Book preview

Contents

Copyright Page

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 5

Chapter 10

Chapter 15

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

About the Author

Hybrid Space

by Leslie D. Soule

All rights reserved

Copyright © March 13, 2014, Leslie D. Soule

Cover Art Copyright © 2015, Charlotte Holley

Gypsy Shadow Publishing, LLC.

Lockhart, TX

www.gypsyshadow.com

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Gypsy Shadow Publishing, LLC.

ISBN: 978-1-61950-432-5

Published in the United States of America

First eBook Edition: December 4, 2016

Dedication

To Rani and Charles, with sincere thanks.

Chapter One: Tea and The Abyss

In a Ship Called The Empress, in the Laboratory

Year 12,212,012 A.D.

Regas shuddered, as a group of T-Tech agents walked by his cell. For the first time, he felt insecure there, knowing that the walls could not protect him from the guns of the Empire. One of the men stopped to stare at him, a look that pierced Regas with its animosity and made his hackles raise involuntarily. It’s like they know—like I’ve somehow become the enemy to them. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this kind of treatment, but I do know that it’s not fair. The winds of change stirred in the air—not real wind, but the manmade breezes of the ship’s life support system. Still, something had changed imperceptibly overnight, and he looked out into the lab with new eyes, new wishes, and a newfound sense of curiosity. He was hoping that Rory, the lab tech, would be working today. Regas had two more hours left between then and now, and this somber thought put him in a pensive mood. If only I knew what to do…

He looked around his cell at the same old familiar, albeit boring, surroundings. He checked the schedule. A new visual display showed on his cell’s wall each day, on an area no larger than a dinner plate. He read through the listings—no tests or exams until tomorrow. The rest of the day stretched out before him, filling him with its own kind of dread. How will I fill the hours of my life that stretch away and away? No—I should rephrase the question. How CAN I fill this time? What CAN I do? He looked over at his text reader. He could read literature, but he would have had to put in a request first and get the approval of the Program Administrator—a man he’d never met and probably didn’t want to know. The whole process could easily take a week. A growl slipped from his throat. I don’t feel like filling out another request. It was easier to play video games or drink tea. Neither of those activities required any sort of approval.

A plain white mug weighed in his paw, reassuring him. I do feel like tea.

Setting the mug onto the small platform of the tea dispenser, he pressed the button for Earl Grey, then watched as the dark brown liquid began filling the mug’s interior with a familiar brew that held its own sort of comfort. At least there would always be tea. He grasped the mug and, walking to the other end of his cell, sat on his cot and warmed his paws on the ceramic life preserver. What else can I do?

The video game system sat at the far side of the cell, programmed with a vast library of programs and simulations, yet today they held no interest for him. The one thing I really want, I can’t have. Sure, I can walk around the ship, one hallway at a time, with an armed escort. That isn’t freedom. I’ve imagined life being so much better.

Every day, he felt the acute sting of the crew’s projected fear and anger. Even if I broke out, would I truly ever be free? I’ll always be a hybrid—I’m doomed to a life of second-class citizenship forever. He sipped the Earl Grey, the only kind of tea he’d experienced onboard this ship. He’d learned that back in the days of Ancient Earth, they’d had hundreds of tantalizing varieties—but Earth had died long ago, the only existing records a series of digitized notes: a reference of sorts, called the AEctionary—the Ancient Earth dictionary. And as much as Regas could read about the tigers of Ancient Earth, as a human-tiger hybrid, he was something else, entirely.

The world outside the lab was a frightening place. He didn’t dare escape. Where would I go? What would I do? He didn’t know the layout of the ship. What if it’s all just a complex of multiple warehouse-style laboratories, like this one? But then, another little voice, deep inside, said, What if it’s not? He let his mind wander for a few indulgent moments as the Earl Grey steeped. What if it’s larger and grander than I’ve ever imagined? What if there aren’t just labs, but schools, hospitals, control observatories and libraries? What if there are others like me?

Thus, the war within manifested itself in his mind—to leave or to stay, and always there remained the lingering inner voices, questioning what he would find in the great beyond outside of his cell. Could there be others? He’d certainly never seen one before, but their existence seemed logical.

All of which led to a logical conclusion. Having this entire program for a single hybrid doesn’t make sense. He stood up and walked over to the Plastiglass. I’ll start by asking a simple question. Spying a female lab worker, he tapped on the cell wall. Humans would consider her beautiful, with arched eyebrows and full rose-colored lips. She looked at him over her glasses and beneath a dark veil of hair.

Excuse me, he said, knocking again on the Plastiglass. I have a question.

She appeared to pretend not to notice, and returned to her paperwork.

Maybe she didn’t hear me. He decided to try again, knocking louder, and this time she looked up, annoyed.

What do you want? she asked, tapping her stylus on the table.

I was wondering if there are any other hybrids like me.

She shook her head, but whether this was an answer or a dismissal, he could not tell. I guess that tactic won’t work. He owed his whole life to T-Tech, but lately, so many strange thoughts swarmed in his head. They’re keeping me in the dark, and I’m tired of it. No—I shouldn’t be thinking that. After all, they’ve graciously supported me all these years. He looked down at his Earl Grey. They provide me with all the necessary comforts—shelter, food, water, and even luxuries like tea and coffee, and a modicum of knowledge, through access to the AEctionary. And yet, as he looked at the young lab tech, something stirred in his soul. I need to get out of here, even for just a little while.

Something else troubled him, tickling the far reaches of his consciousness; a phrase he’d heard one of the scientists mention in the course of conversation. Boston Tea Party. In the dead of a recent night, he’d stayed up past lights-out, checked for guards, then signed in to the AEctionary from the terminal in his Plastiglass cube. These new words intrigued him. He’d learned a lot in the course of casual conversation with the few lab technicians who would actually talk to him, like the friendly bio-technician Rory. Regas had even learned a new word yesterday—Luna. He slowly lowered his mug of tea to the floor; remembering, contemplating, careful not to look suspicious, making the movements he’d always made before. After all, the AEctionary had a thing or two to say about the art of illusion and disguising one’s true intentions.

He slowly walked over to the terminal and accessed the AEctionary, typing hastily on the keyboard on the shelf before him, entering the word into the prompt—Luna. There’s got to be an explanation somewhere on the computer’s database. He’d heard the word in an offhand remark from Rory a couple days before. Luna was the spherical satellite, the moon the people of Ancient Earth saw in the heavens, it had glowed up there like a magical disk. People prayed to it, guided their ships by it, attributed the power of gods and goddesses to it. It must have been a wonder to behold—but then he dropped from imagination to the present—so was the interstellar corporation known as T-Tech. He respected T-Tech as a powerful entity, building itself up as every company must, and yet… and yet he wanted to dump his one luxury into T-Tech’s harbor, like the men in the story of the Boston Tea Party had done. That, and an idea gripped his heart like a vise. I want to see Earth’s moon. But so far as he knew, Earth no longer existed, and maybe even Luna had been destroyed in the wars of Ancient Earth. He’d made a mental note to try to read more about the subject later.

Now he couldn’t stop thinking about what a beautiful, magical experience it would be to see the moon from Planet Earth. The thought lingered there in his dreams, like a ghost he couldn’t rid himself of. The days of planetary living had come and gone long, long ago, and humans roamed now only in the halls of ships and space stations, and on a few scattered outposts or planetary remnants—floating islands adrift in the vastness of the cosmos. Regas watched in amazement as the images popped up on his screen, each one more mesmerizing than the last. Beautiful.

The lights dimmed in the laboratory beyond his Plastiglass-walled cell, and he smiled as he looked at the time on the screen before him—1900. Rory might be entering the lab soon. He usually put in overtime on Thursdays. He’ll surely clear things up for me, and tell me why I should feel something at the sight of an inanimate object. These emotions make no sense. Wasn’t it just some floating orb in space, held in Earth’s grasp? Yet, looking at the images from the AEctionary, he couldn’t deny the power and the majesty that this floating rock held. A yearning grew somewhere deep inside his soul. He waited through the torturous minutes in agony.

Sure enough, a few minutes later Rory, clad in a white lab coat which hung past his knees, walked through the door. He peered at Regas through thick bifocals and the bangs of a mop of tousled red hair. He wore a bright, beaming smile, and a red moustache.

Gotta get that overtime in, you know? he said, as he walked past Regas’ cell, tapping his mug on the Plastiglass and smiling. Regas tapped the wall with his fist, in a display of friendship.

An old-style speaker sat on his workstation table, and he turned the little plastic knob, cranking up the volume. This was Regas’ favorite time of night, when the agents were all asleep elsewhere and Rory played the songs from the Ancient Times of Earth—jazz and reggae, instrumental and rock n’ roll, as he’d come to know them. Sometimes they’d be cheery and upbeat tunes; other times they’d be fast and the beat would come down heavy, like footsteps down metal stairs. Then there was another kind, and it touched him in a way he couldn’t describe. It soothed away the pangs of loneliness that struck sometimes when he sat there in his cell, alone. The Blues. The music Rory played tonight sounded like a combination of Blues and another style, called rock n’ roll.

You ever heard Harry Chapin? Rory asked.

Regas stepped away from the computer kiosk and off to the left, directly in front of the Plastiglass, to get a better view of the lab beyond.

No, he answered, feeling sheepish. He so often answered no to Rory’s inquiries. I’ve never heard of him before—please enlighten me. Rory was always obliging in that respect. So they held their Thursday night ritual, or Musicology lesson, as Regas liked to call it.

The music wafted through the air, teasing Regas with the challenge of drawing meaning from the cryptic lines. It sounded like a children’s lullaby gone awry, a man regretting his life’s choices. What a sad song. It drove home the message that what you do with your life isn’t as important as the opportunities you miss—the chances that you let slip by, caught up in the comfort of doing things the same old way they’d always been done. It takes guts to challenge the status quo. At least, that’s what Rory always lamented, because it was ironic how he believed it, and yet dared not challenge—T-Tech, the mighty Empire who controlled the ship, the laboratory workers, and virtually everything this side of the galaxy. Rory would be destined to remain a Lab Tech 1 forever.

Regas sighed. This man wears invisible chains. It sounds like he has no more choice than I do. What choice do any of us have, though? This ship, The Empress, is all there is in our universe. Even if I somehow got out of here, where would I go? Why would it be better?

He sipped his tea and listened in silence, as his mind whirled with speculation. I’m done waiting in a bound life, for opportunities that will forever be out of my reach.

During these stolen moments of the nighttime, his world became peaceful and quiet—so different from the ship’s constant flurry of daytime movement and activity. During these moments, he could savor the simplicity of listening to music and letting the sounds of the ship vanish from his mind, slip into a meditative state, wish that his whole life could be so peaceful, interactive, quiet, and happy. He felt a stirring within that he could hardly contain.

I’ve seen the photos of the tigers from Ancient Earth, and I am not like them. I’m something different. He sat back on his cot and tapped his feet to the music as he sipped his tea.

Eventually, the night wound to a close. Rory put a bunch of papers into a manila folder, bid Regas goodnight, and turned out the lights. A dozen computer screens out beyond his cube shone still, with just enough light to make sleep seem impossible. Still, he set his empty mug next to the cot, curled himself into a fetal position, and closed his eyes. Just as he began to drift off to sleep, he heard knocking on the glass and figured it must be a technician conducting a quality test. If I ignore it, it’ll stop soon enough. Eventually, they give up and go away. Yet the knocking did not cease. Regas opened his eyes and looked over at the door to his cell, shocked to see a dark-skinned young woman standing there. He sucked in a sharp breath and jumped to his feet.

Who are you? he demanded.

She held a finger to her lips. Opening the cell door, she waved to usher him out. Regas gasped. How did she do that? The door was supposed to be locked.

He halted. Should he pass beyond the threshold of the only life he’d ever known, and enter a world of boundless possibility, or retreat into the safety of a ten-foot cube? Can I trust you, stranger? He looked from side to side. I hope no one sees me and knows I’m leaving. Then he noticed a tuft of fur on her neck. He opened his eyes wide, and his jaw dropped. What if she’s not a human? What if she’s a hybrid, like me? His feet seemed to start walking on their own, and he found himself moving toward the door.

Where are we going?

Just follow me, she said. Time for questions later.

He reached out and touched the Plastiglass door with a massive furry paw, and felt an overwhelming surge of nervousness.

Instructions marched through his mind: There are rules for just about everything and if you break these rules, if you defy them, you will be punished, no matter if you deserve it or not. The world outside my cell door is a scary place full of wrongs and misfortunes.

Are you truly another hybrid? Who are you? Why didn’t they tell me about you sooner? Another thought followed on its heels. If I follow you, will you show me where there are other hybrids? His spirits plucked up at this thought. He didn’t say a word, but left his cell, stepping over that forbidden threshold into the empty corridor behind the young woman dressed all in black.

He followed this mysterious stranger down the hall, feeling guilty as all hell. I feel like I’m being watched. He looked all around nervously, a strange tingle working its way through him. What if T-Tech catches me? Still, he’d always wanted something more, and he didn’t know why. It was as if he was eternally searching for something just out of his grasp.

At any rate, maybe the grass really is greener elsewhere. How are we to know until we look? Goodness, where is this irrational behavior in me coming from? Maybe it’s a hybrid trait. He couldn’t help but smile at that thought as he followed farther and farther, on the trail of this mysterious stranger.

Then he halted in his tracks. I shouldn’t be doing this.

The young woman whirled around to face him, an annoyed expression on her face.

Come on, the woman said. "We’ve got to keep moving.