Eugenics Officer First Class 300-2345-MB12x hurried through the corridor, clasping his status report in his mid-torso tentacles. Three-oh-oh had plenty of time before his appointment with the Director, but he’d chosen to arrive early, hoping to see 127-2348-FB12x on her way to the nursery. He moved quickly along the interior zero gravity corridor, navigating the hold-bars with his upper and lower tentacle clusters, hoping to catch her as she left her dormitory. If he could greet her a few more times, he’d be able to recognize her when their B12x procreation cohort entwined tentacles during the upcoming breeding orgy. He was only permitted to travel this part of the ship to deliver his end-of-cycle report, and he might have only one more chance before the scheduled mating to imprint her distinctiveness on his taste centers.
This new obsession to only mate with One-two-seven was at once disconcerting and exhilarating. His interactions with One-two-seven engendered feelings that he’d not experienced in previous matings but found desirable. Maybe the extreme variability in the new species he was assessing for standardization had affected him more than he admitted to himself. When he thought about it, perhaps the species’ biological variation and the value they placed on individuality had stimulated a latent preference for a non-standard appearance in Three-oh-oh, manifesting in his attraction to One-two-seven.
When he first saw her, One-two-seven carried the random blue and white mottling and the silver facetted eye patches that distinguished the younger females. Although of breeding age, she had not acquired her adult coloration. Since their first contact, Three-oh-oh had come to cherish the flavor of her unique personality. That first casual, inadvertent brushing of tentacles as they passed in the hallway carried the sweetness, sharpness, and spice of kindness, humor, and passion. It had shocked them both as they rotated their eye patches to make contact. Since that first encounter, they’d found ways to share short, private exchanges in the corridor each cycle.
As a eugenics officer, Three-oh-oh should be more attracted to the uniform blue skin and white eye patches that all Yarish displayed—male and female. But instead, Three-oh-oh found One-two-seven’s patterned skin attractive. The Genome Directorate should permit their pairing as her FB12x tertiary designation matched his male version—MB12x. But any female in the B12x breeding group would satisfy the breeding plan’s genetic diversity requirements—he didn’t have to mate with One-two-seven. But, three-oh-oh yearned to mate only with One-two-seven and experience the richness of her flavor that familiarity brought. He wouldn’t jeopardize that and have it replaced with the plainness of mating with any FB12x that might expose her fertilization chamber. To be safe, he’d keep their attraction to himself. He didn’t need to risk being forced to repeat the social standardization training.
Three-oh-oh reached the passage to the dormitory and waited for her. One-two-seven finally entered the corridor and glided across the passageway to greet him. Her mottled pattern was beginning to fade, and most of her eye facets had turned white. In another cycle, she’d be indistinguishable from any other Yarish.
Entwining tentacles, Three-oh-oh tasted her distinctive blend of kindness, caring, and affection that he’d come to value. He was glad he’d come early and greeted her.
“How was your cycle in the nursery?” asked Thee-oh-oh, hoping she tasted his affection, caring, and concern. “Are the Brood Overseers treating you well?”
“I’m fine.” Three-oh-oh noted a sharp under taste of anxiety, but a soothing calm mainly was what he caught. “As my coloration matures, they’ve grown kinder. I think all new nursery workers experience some ill-treatment. I’ll be Okay.” Thankfulness, appreciation, and affection flavored her response.
“We might have only one more time when we can meet before our cohort will be breeding. Will you remember me?” Three-oh-oh forced humility into his flavor to hide the taste of his unease from One-two-seven.
“I’m sure I’ll remember you, Three-oh-oh. You’re more memorable than you give yourself credit for.” The subtle taste of humor entered their exchange. “I should probably go.”
“Meet next cycle again?” asked Three-oh-oh.
A sharp burst of anticipation and excitement was One-two-seven’s only response.
Three-oh-oh disentangled with a last gentle goodbye and admired her grace as One-two-seven flowed down the passageway, deftly moving from hold-bar to hold-bar with the barest grasp of her tentacles.
A chime from his report pad alerted Three-oh-oh to his scheduled meeting with the Director in a few minutes. After a last look at One-two-seven as she glanced back before entering the side corridor leading to the nursery ring, he proceeded to the Director’s chamber in the command post.
The command post of the eugenics standardization ship occupied the forward most section and maintained zero gravity, which made moving between control chambers easier. The massive gravity wheels that housed the thousands of crew and science staff that needed accommodations during a species standardization project were located aft of the command post. The largest of the wheels, closest to the command post, was converted to stasis chambers used by the several hundred retained crew during interstellar transits. The labs, the breeding halls, and the nurseries—all the spaces that needed gravity to function correctly and maintain the health of the Yarish—occupied smaller wheels farther back from the dormitories. The module farthest to the rear sheltered the engineering section and supported the light-speed engines on their kilometer-long boom that protected the Yarish from the drive’s quantum entanglement effects that could disrupt their metabolism while in stasis.
Three-oh-oh entered the command post and coasted to a stop in the Director’s chamber.
The Director reached out with a forward tentacle, and Three-oh-oh accepted the invitation, entangling one of his tips. “You’re right on time, Eugenics Officer. What do you have this week? How is the Eugenics Standardization Plan progressing?”
Three-oh-oh handed the Director the report pad. “Well, Director—we’re generally on track and ready for implementation in one more revolution of the planet around its star. We’ve collected detailed physical, psychological, and sociological data from our cloaked probes, and the planet is not only ripe for standardization, but the team feels we’ve arrived just in time. In the last one hundred revolutions, the primary sentient species colonized their planet’s satellite, settled on the fourth planet, and began manufacturing activities in the asteroid field.”
The Director raised the report pad and focused both eye patches. “I see what you mean. When we’ve encountered this type of expansion on our previous expeditions, the standardization was traumatic and destructive. Your team’s right—we fare better when we catch the species on their home planet. What changes will be needed in the standardization protocols with the species at this stage of expansion.”
“That’s where it becomes interesting. The effects across the usual two dimensions of social homogeneity and economic efficiency are unexpected. Despite their diversity, over the last two hundred revolutions, the destructive effects to their society of a diverse population have ameliorated. The species has successfully tamped out the inherent biases we’ve seen in other societies we’ve standardized.”
“Are you still recommending we follow the standards for this species?”
“Absolutely. Although the effects will be less dramatic, they’ll realize all the benefits to societal harmony by removing all external cues of individuality. They’ll benefit from what we’ve learned about not glorifying the individual and valuing only the skills and knowledge that the members contribute.”
“You mentioned the economic dimension.” The Director re-positioned her bulk, and Three-oh-oh waited for a moment before re-establishing contact, finally re-entangling the tip of his tentacle. The Director’s flavor turned to interest, and Three-oh-oh resumed his report.
“The economic benefits to standardization will be significant. Moving the society to a standard size and appearance for males and females will allow them to discontinue producing goods in multiple sizes, colors, shapes, designs, etc. They can standardize their entire consumer sector on a single design. Secondarily, they can build housing, transportation, machinery, and tools to a standard specification while preserving all the genetic benefits of sexual reproduction. Eliminating individual differences, not to mention preferences, will generate enormous benefits, as we learned for ourselves before we launched the standardization expeditions to spread those benefits to other species.”
“No need for the academic lesson, First Class. Is there anything else?” Mild annoyance flavored the Director’s comment, and Three-oh-oh let contrition creep into their connection.
“We do have one concern, Director. We’ve recently picked up transmissions regarding some sort of global competition.”
“Why is that a concern? We’ve seen competitions around the globe continuously during the time we’ve been observing the planet.”
“True, but this is different. The team thinks we need to observe this phenomenon more closely. Most of the political sub-entities have sent groups of competitors to several large cities on the northern continents. We’ve only observed the event for two of the planet’s rotational cycles, but it seems these representatives are being tested in a variety of strength and agility contests. We’re concerned that the individuals might be warriors, trained for combat—to resist us perhaps?”
“I seriously doubt that First Class—but your concern is noted. Focus your observations, re-task any of the probes you need and let me know if we need to revise the standardization plan.” The taste of dismissal had entered their connection.
“There’s one more thing, Director.” Three-oh-oh now tasted impatience, but he had to broach the topic. From a re-positioning of the Director’s eye patches, Three-oh-oh assumed he should proceed. “It’s possible this latest signal was explicitly directed at us. The team fears we’ve been discovered, and the competition we’re observing is—a warning.”
“Are you sure it’s not directed at the gas mining facility orbiting the nearby large satellite?”
“That’s possible. But only a dozen or so crew members are on that facility. The team feels it’s an unusual dedication of resources.”
“Fine.” The taste of impatience receded. “Try to refine the intercept and bring your conclusions in your next cycle report. If that’s all, you’re dismissed.” The Director began disentangling her tentacle, and Three-oh-oh took that as a signal to leave.