(Do it again.)
The words came too slowly. Too clearly. They'd been getting slower and clearer with each successive failure. His quaternary-level assistants all turned respectful, fearful stalk eyes to him. They knew what his slow, clear tone meant. He hadn't gained his reputation as the most difficult graduate mentor from nothing. He was not kind to these young people. He did not remember his own schooling fondly, and spared no mercy for theirs. Despite this, assistants were never sparse. Students always clambered to work with him. He was, after all, a genius.
Or so they said.
He was getting impatient. On the verge of another outburst. He had to keep his head, or else he'd snap. If he snapped, the project would be stalled. They'd lose time. Nervous, flitting little children would obtain imprecise measurements with shaking hands, setting them back weeks, maybe even months. One might even start crying. That was the last thing he needed.
(We'll do it again,) he repeated, with a more level tone of voice. He turned his stalk eye to Cirell. She rolled her stalk eye playfully and smiled at him.
That softened him. (Are you ready, you bumbling fool?) He asked Tlaxick, the youngest of his students, and thus the least fortunate, stuck with control panel duty. Tlaxick gazed up at him, a smooth veneer of courage behind his eyes.
(Trial 523, ready to engage. Do you give the all-clear?)
(Push the damn button.)
Tlaxick obeyed.
The students all lurched backward as the first of the shrill cries escaped the Kafit Bird's beak. Tlaxick had gone slightly pale.
Besides the screams, nothing had changed. The ray itself was invisible and made no sound. He observed behind the students, who all stood in front of the cylindrical force field containing the specimen. They were supposed to be taking notes, but the screams were even more intense than last time. They enveloped the small crowd, so loud that they ceased being sound and became some new sense entirely.
The Kafit continued to scream. Horrible, ugly cries of utter pain and deformity, unconcerned with social appropriateness or unsettled females. The stench of adrenaline and panic from the unpracticed students filled the room. But he never took his eyes off of the cylindrical force field, the mutating creature before him.
Feathers molted from the creature, like some invisible monster was ripping it to shreds. The beak began to melt into a sort of snout. Six wings slowly, surely became six legs. It shrunk, overcome with pain, still groaning and squaking, on the verge of unconsciousness.
No, damnit, he thought, clutching his fingers into a weak fist. Stay awake! Stay awake, you redundant bird!
(Morph at 92%...) Tlaxick announced.
(Just a little bit more…)
(94%...consciousness intermittent.)
(Just hold on, you feathered filth!)
(97%...sir, it's not looking-- )
(Shut up, Tlaxick!)
(99%, and I don't think…wait. Wait a second.)
Tlaxick gripped the edges of the computer with stiff hands.
(What is it, you insufferable child?)
(100%, sir. We've just completed our first successful inter-species morph.)
A few of the students gasped in surprise, shock. Expectation that they might actually see happiness from their professor. Then they turned their stalk eyes around to see his reaction.
(Did the specimen survive?)
The stalk eyes turned back around. In the cylinder was a heaving, unconscious djabala that seemed damaged beyond repair. But it was alive.
(Yes, sir. Yes. It survived.)
He gave no other reaction than a stiff shrug, meant to repress the concentrated burst of joy and elation that exploded within him. He thought he'd succeeded in keeping it from his students. However, the children before him all giggled. Their professor had just cracked.
(Very well,) he covered quickly. (Everyone, reconvene here at the same time tomorrow. This only means our work has become exponentially more difficult, and I expect all of your personal lives to suffer tremendously as a result.)
That killed their spirits. Cirell shook her stalk eyes almost motionlessly.
(Cirell, if you could meet me in my office, please.)
(Don't let a breakthrough like this disrupt your sensitivity with me,) she huffed privately.
(Now?)
She stepped forward, through the throng of confused students, and sauntered ahead of him into his office, watching him with glittering silver eyes all the way in.
He maintained his stiff austerity until he was fully enclosed by his expansive, domed office, by the obscuring force field door, by the soft glow of the holographic, midnight sky. He waited until she pressed the inner lock, muting any sounds and thought-speech they made from outside ears and minds.
They were deep within the underbelly of the Scientific Institute for Advanced Technologies. One of the most secret, innermost chambers. Thousands of meters underground. He didn't remind himself of that fact, of course. No Andalite enjoys the thought of being buried under thousands of tons of suffocating soil and water. But the holograms were thankfully convincing. No amount of intellectual certainty could overcome the primal comfort his body felt, being "outdoors." It was a suitable environment, providing both the benefits of freedom and privacy.
He watched Cirell for a few minutes. If not for her, he would have given up this entire venture weeks ago. He watched her as her hips swayed dangerously, exaggeratedly. He watched as she beckoned him with a single smile and twitch of her tail.
Then he descended.
(Can you believe it?) he sighed, almost giddy, overcome with the excitement of success and the immediacy of his carnal urges. (We actually did it. Successfully. We actually--)
(Get your finger out of my ear.)
(Sorry,) he mumbled, removing his hand from the side of her head, and concentrating now on her neck, her chest, her smooth, delicate, young skin.
(Slow down! You're taking all of the fun out of this.)
(My life's work, Cirell, it's not meaningless! We successfully disrupted and mutated one biological individual into another. And not even another individual! An entirely different species. Do you understand the implications? Don't you see what this--)
Cirell grabbed both of his hands weakly, but with dominance. He stopped and stared down at her.
(Just because you've realized your childhood ambition doesn't mean you get to act like a child, Escafil.)
He felt embarrassed. He bowed his head toward her and sighed.
(You're right. I apologize.)
(Now,) Cirell whispered, releasing his hands and moving them to his chest, up his neck, to that wonderful, sensitive corner of his jaws that she knew so well. (It's been entirely too long a day. And you're right, we still have a lot of work to do. A successful morph is meaningless if the process is too painful for any sane Andalite to use it. And we don't even know if we can get it to change back without killing it. Not to mention we haven't quite figured out these time limits.)
Escafil closed his eyes, losing himself in the pleasure of her precise, intimate kiss. But suddenly, it ended. He opened his eyes. Cirell was making her way toward the door.
(That's it?) He blurted.
(I need to get home, Escafil. And I'm quite sure your wife is wondering where you've been for the last three days.)
Escafil was speechless. Incredulous. He stared at her like she'd just said the world was going to end.
(Besides, I find you have more breakthroughs when all that sexual energy flows unreleased throughout your body. Better to not siphon blood from the brain for more indulgent, less productive ventures, don't you think?)
(Oh, you don't know how much I want to terminate you right now.)
(Probably the best idea. Without me to distract you, I fully expect a working Escafil Device in less than a month.)
("Escafil Device," huh?)
(Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?)
Cirell left. Escafil followed her after a few minutes. Most of the students had departed, but Tlaxick was still examining readouts from the computer.
(Go home, Tlaxick,) Escafil said to the ambitious young boy.
(Sir, I've been going over these computer scans, and-- )
(I said go home. There will be plenty of time for your unabashed obsequiousness tomorrow.)
Tlaxick took the insult in stride. (Yes, sir. I'll see you tomorrow.)
Escafil examined the heaving djabala in its test tube. It was completely overcome with pain, still quivering like it was electric. But it was alive.
(Stay here until I get back,) he said to it. (I'll make it hurt less next time.)
A/N: This story is not over, but I don't know how often/if I'm going to update it. There's more story to tell, obviously, but it's all very fuzzy right now. I just wanted some practice writing soft sci-fi, so...here we go. But as I started, I got intrigued by this character we only ever knew by name. And Andalite society before the war would be an interesting thing to investigate...hmm, it sounds like I just talked myself into it.
Even though I don't really know what this is.
Anyway, let me know what you think!