Read Online Asteroid Crisis: Star Challengers Book 3 by Kevin J. Anderson, Rebecca Moesta, June Scobee Rodgers - Free Book Online Page B
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you.”
“I’m okay. I kind of prefer dead aliens to live ones,” Dyl muttered. “Either way, those squidbutts are ugly.”
“I thought I was the one with the delicate stomach,” Song-Ye said, moving closer to help. “This is fascinating, though. By studying the internal organs and blood chemistry, we should be able to draw some conclusions about the Kylarn home world.”
“Maybe we can figure out a chemical they’re allergic to,” Dyl added. “I wouldn’t mind finding some alien poison ivy to give the squidbutts a good rash and send them limping back home.”
“This one already has a rash—or a stain at least,” Dr. Romero said. “Is this the creature that was sprayed with red dye?”
“Yes, that one’s Red Spot. My sister squirted chemicals in its face,” Dyl said. “It attacked us in the greenhouse module, and we chased it with fire extinguishers.”
On display screens on the wall above the surgical table, Dr. Romero called up a high-resolution scan of the Kylarn.
“Life can take many forms in different environments—even on Earth. Look at the differences between deep-sea tube worms, giant redwood trees, kangaroos, and human beings. Though they seem impossibly different, they come from the same planet. Their biochemistry is carbon-based, and they use liquid water. Animals breathe oxygen, plants create energy through photosynthesis. In spite of their striking differences, living organisms need to use some form of liquid, generally water. So let’s try to figure out what makes the Kylarn tick.”
“More like what makes them ticked off? Dyl muttered to Song-Ye.
Dr. Romero used a scalpel and, with only a slight hesitation, made an incision in the aliens rubbery brown skin, exposing fatty tissue and a sticky, milky-gray fluid.
A spoiled smell waited up, turning Dyl’s stomach. He swallowed hard. “Halfway between slime and snot.”
Song-Ye was stoic. “I can see the blood vessels. There might be vital organs inside that cavity. Do we know where the lungs are? The heart? The digestive tract?”
“The alien digestive system could give us a big piece of the puzzle,” Dr. Romero said. “If we knew what the Kylarn ate, we’d have some clue as to what they want with Earth.”
“Maybe they want to conquer it and add it to their territory,” Dyl said.
“I hope they don’t want to eat people,” Song-Ye said, giving a slight shudder at the thought.
“We can take samples from its stomach contents, run a chemical analysis, and find out what Red Spot had for its last meal.” Dyl and Song-Ye helped Romero wrap a loose transparent material around the aliens body, and the doctor slid her hands into a pair of gloves built into the material. It reminded Dyl of one of the glove boxes at the Challenger Center.
Romero extended the incision and spread open the cavity. They saw lumps of jelly, spongy masses and rubbery tubes, some of which started to float out of the body but were held in place by the clear material.
“That stuff looks like it came from the bargain bin in Dr. Frankenstein’s lab,” Dyl said.
Romero mused, “For the longest time, the human race wondered whether there was life elsewhere in the universe. We had hoped to find friends, a benevolent race … not creatures that want to conquer us.”
“If we knew this was the company we were expecting, we never would have rolled out the welcome mat,” Dyl said.
“That doesn’t mean friendly civilized alien races don’t exist out there,” Song-Ye suggested.
“The search for other intelligent civilizations has been going on for a long time,” Dr. Romero said, looking down at the strange pieces of the specimen strapped to the operating table. “But the galaxy is a big place. It’s a process of elimination, narrowing down the possibilities. In 1961, a man named Frank Drake spelled out the factors necessary for finding life out there—at least life something like our own. You start with the number of stars in the Milky Way
“I’m okay. I kind of prefer dead aliens to live ones,” Dyl muttered. “Either way, those squidbutts are ugly.”
“I thought I was the one with the delicate stomach,” Song-Ye said, moving closer to help. “This is fascinating, though. By studying the internal organs and blood chemistry, we should be able to draw some conclusions about the Kylarn home world.”
“Maybe we can figure out a chemical they’re allergic to,” Dyl added. “I wouldn’t mind finding some alien poison ivy to give the squidbutts a good rash and send them limping back home.”
“This one already has a rash—or a stain at least,” Dr. Romero said. “Is this the creature that was sprayed with red dye?”
“Yes, that one’s Red Spot. My sister squirted chemicals in its face,” Dyl said. “It attacked us in the greenhouse module, and we chased it with fire extinguishers.”
On display screens on the wall above the surgical table, Dr. Romero called up a high-resolution scan of the Kylarn.
“Life can take many forms in different environments—even on Earth. Look at the differences between deep-sea tube worms, giant redwood trees, kangaroos, and human beings. Though they seem impossibly different, they come from the same planet. Their biochemistry is carbon-based, and they use liquid water. Animals breathe oxygen, plants create energy through photosynthesis. In spite of their striking differences, living organisms need to use some form of liquid, generally water. So let’s try to figure out what makes the Kylarn tick.”
“More like what makes them ticked off? Dyl muttered to Song-Ye.
Dr. Romero used a scalpel and, with only a slight hesitation, made an incision in the aliens rubbery brown skin, exposing fatty tissue and a sticky, milky-gray fluid.
A spoiled smell waited up, turning Dyl’s stomach. He swallowed hard. “Halfway between slime and snot.”
Song-Ye was stoic. “I can see the blood vessels. There might be vital organs inside that cavity. Do we know where the lungs are? The heart? The digestive tract?”
“The alien digestive system could give us a big piece of the puzzle,” Dr. Romero said. “If we knew what the Kylarn ate, we’d have some clue as to what they want with Earth.”
“Maybe they want to conquer it and add it to their territory,” Dyl said.
“I hope they don’t want to eat people,” Song-Ye said, giving a slight shudder at the thought.
“We can take samples from its stomach contents, run a chemical analysis, and find out what Red Spot had for its last meal.” Dyl and Song-Ye helped Romero wrap a loose transparent material around the aliens body, and the doctor slid her hands into a pair of gloves built into the material. It reminded Dyl of one of the glove boxes at the Challenger Center.
Romero extended the incision and spread open the cavity. They saw lumps of jelly, spongy masses and rubbery tubes, some of which started to float out of the body but were held in place by the clear material.
“That stuff looks like it came from the bargain bin in Dr. Frankenstein’s lab,” Dyl said.
Romero mused, “For the longest time, the human race wondered whether there was life elsewhere in the universe. We had hoped to find friends, a benevolent race … not creatures that want to conquer us.”
“If we knew this was the company we were expecting, we never would have rolled out the welcome mat,” Dyl said.
“That doesn’t mean friendly civilized alien races don’t exist out there,” Song-Ye suggested.
“The search for other intelligent civilizations has been going on for a long time,” Dr. Romero said, looking down at the strange pieces of the specimen strapped to the operating table. “But the galaxy is a big place. It’s a process of elimination, narrowing down the possibilities. In 1961, a man named Frank Drake spelled out the factors necessary for finding life out there—at least life something like our own. You start with the number of stars in the Milky Way
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