Page 41 of Challenged

“We’re getting off track here. My point is, you can’t be pregnant by your alien friend. Dreamspaces and mating nodes and other stuff don’t counteract the Biological Species Concept.”

“The what now?”

I pause, wondering how best to pitch my explanation.

“What’s your level of understanding when it comes to biology?”

“Assume zero.”

Okay then.

“Scientists define creatures as distinct species based on a number of factors,” I say, speaking slowly and giving her plenty of chance to stop and question me. “But in the main, a species is the largest group of organisms where any two of its members can mate and have fertile offspring. Babies. Babies that will grow up and be able to have their own babies. So dogs, right? You’ve got rottweilers and you have chihuahuas.” I gesture their disparatesizes with my hands. “About as different in size and appearance as two dogs can get. But they’re still the same species because they are capable of producing viable, fertile offspring. They carry their pregnancies to term, birth living babies that are healthy and can one day have babies of their own.”

“Okay,” Liv says, nodding along.

“Leopards and cheetahs, though. Both big cats. You’d think perhaps they’re the same species. They look very similar, live in the same areas. Yet they can’t have children. A male leopard and female cheetah can do the deed, but it will never result in a pregnancy. So they’re two different species. That’s the Biological Species Concept.”

I check to see she’s still following. When I see no signs of confusion, I continue.

“Like with everything in science, it’s a spectrum, and there are exceptions. Some distinct species get a little further than the leopard and the cheetah. They might have a pregnancy, but the foetus isn’t healthy, and it dies before it can be born. And some different species can be successfully hybridised, but the resulting offspring are sterile. Horses and donkeys, for example. Two distinct species, but you crossbreed them, you get mules. Lions and tigers. Ligers. Ligers aren’t always sterile, but they have a lot of other health problems.”

“You’re trying to say my baby will have health problems?” Liv’s tone is sharp, but not as bad as it has been. As if she doesn’t really believe what I’m saying.

“No, I’m not saying that. The thing is - horses and donkeys, lions and tigers - the reason these different species can be hybridised is that they are very similar. Descended from the same ancestors, most likely. Raskarrans and humans are from two entirely different planets. There’s no common ancestry there. We might superficially look alike. We can eat the same food, breathe the same air. But genetically speaking, thelikelihood of the raskarrans being at all similar to humans is infinitesimal.”

Liv doesn’t look confused, but she doesn’t look moved by what I’m saying.

“I can’t say for certain what Mercenia was doing here,” I continue. “But to allow raskarrans and humans to procreate - I can only think it would have involved genetic engineering. Splicing DNA and changing the genetic makeup of their test subjects until they were no longer exactly human, no longer exactly raskarran, but something in between the two. I don’t know if that level of genetic interference is even possible. The fact that Mercenia abandoned this place suggests it isn’t.”

Liv’s expression doesn’t shift. “So you’re saying this pregnancy being because of Gregar is extremely unlikely?”

She still doesn’t sound angry, which surprises me.

“I’m saying it’s impossible.”

“Impossible?” A new voice speaks, making me look up.

To see an unfamiliar blonde woman in the office doorway.

Holding what looks very much like a half human, half raskarran baby in her arms.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Rardek

My use of theshowersis uninterrupted this time. Though the hot water feels wonderful against my aching back and tired muscles, I cannot help but be a little disappointed. Standing under the spray, it is too easy to picture my Angie pinned beneath me, eyes full of fire and rage. And fear. The memory of that douses the building heat that grows in my groin.

The water shuts off, and I grab a drying pelt, scrubbing at my skin until the water is all soaked up. Pulling on my freshest clothes, I run my fingers through my hair, before tying it back out of my face, then head out of theshowerroom with the bag containing my Angie’s new clothes and boots in hand, ready to find her.

I have taken a single step when I hear voices.

“Nunofthismaykesenysense.”

My Angie. Not angry, but definitely high in her emotions.

“Budyoostarttuhseemahpoynt?”Liv, calm, firm. “Weevedunwotchosayisimpossibul.”

“WotMerceniawanted,” Brooks adds.

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