Gravy didn’t like it in the lab. It was nothing like the labs her closest scientists used, white and sterile and empty. It was very colorful and a tad disorganized, and very very clean. She could taste the soap and disinfectant in the air, as well as other, meatier smells that put her fur on edge. Where the labs she knew had beakers of strange colored liquids and machines for viewing the microscopic, this lab had huge machines with wicked-looking hooks and spears, and clear cases of severed limbs and what looked like mechanically functionally organs. The professor didn’t seem to notice, of course. Gravy was briefly distracted by what looked like the severed head of a dire, its tongue out and lolling and its eyes darting around the room erratically. When its dead gaze met hers, she snapped out of her trance, and hurriedly followed Professor Drum as he went further into the lab. She caught up with him at a platform, where he was talking in low tones to an assistant.

“I was surprised to get your summons,” Gravy said, to calm her own nerves. “You told us your project was nowhere near to ready.”

He turned and grinned at her, cool. She felt as if he was looking down on her, despite being a hand shorter. “That was ten years ago,” he reminded her. “A lot can happen in ten years.”

“That’s true,” she acceded. She gripped the rail of the platform; she’d never liked ascending. It felt wrong. “But the nature of your research is so…delicate, with no further word, we could only assume that you had met with further failure.”

He nodded. “A natural assumption, I suppose. But the nature of my research is also very lengthy. But I am very proud of my latest specimen.”

Specimen. The word made Gravy’s hearts go cold. She had never agreed with genetic research of any kind, and had told her predecessor as much, but he had assured her time and time again that it was crucial. To battle something, you needed to understand it, beyond just its combat capabilities. But all she could think about was the organs and limbs spread out on the table, raw and naked and twitching, and she felt her lunch rebelling against digestion.

The silence had gone on longer than was polite, and Gravy grabbed desperately at something to say.

“You told my predecessor that the specimen was for research purposes?” No, no, that wasn’t right. “As in…they would be researching.”

“Oh, well…” Drum grinned at her. “There are many uses for them. Originally, I made them with mechanics in mind…nimble fingers, small body, they would be perfect to work on mechs and machines.” He tapped his nose with one trimmed claw. “They are still perfect for that purpose, but they have turned out to be startlingly intelligent, and I think it is not unthinkable for them to take charge in their work.”

He looked as if he had more to say, but at that point, the platform came to a smooth halt, and he gestured to the door. “Commander.”

This room was less disturbing than the lab. It looked more like soldiers’ quarters. There were platforms for lounging and tools laid out on tables that looked designed for very strange hands. When Gravy saw the shape of the uniform hanging on a rack, a shiver ran up her spine. What kind of creature has he created?

“She’s in here,” Drum said, and rapped twice on the door, from which steam and soap crept. He clicked strangely, and an answering click came from inside, soft and muffled by the sound of running water. “She’s bathing; they like to do that. It calms them.”

Gravy would’ve wanted more gravity to the moment, but Drum was so mundane and relaxed as he went into the bathing room that she couldn’t help feeling so as well. her anxiety and uncertainy was like an undercurrent, hidden beneath a coat of normality. And she had no warning, no time to prepare herself to be disgusted for the figure standing behind the clear screen in the ablution stall.

Drum clicked again, a greeting of some kind evidently, for the creature turned, and seeing them, stopped the water flow and stepped out into the cool air.

It was…strange. It was shaped like a Mir, vaguely, but it had more meat on its bones. Its slender arms ended with five long fingers with what looked like only one major joint. Its eyes were too large and when they looked at her, she felt uncomfortable…it looked intelligent. Its skin reminded her on leaves, brown and soft and etched with strange dark lines. Also reminiscent of the Mir was its torso, where the skin was shockingly translucent, revealing its strange organs, cramped uncomfortably in its small body. And it was small. Though it was shaped like a Mir, but it was less than half as tall. Its mouth, thin and chapped, twitched and then slowly spread into a strange mockery of a smile, revealing a hint of straight, blunt teeth.

“She’s a bit odd-looking, I’ll grant you.” Professor Drum acceded, as if reading her mind. “But she is perfect for what she is made for, I assure you.” His whiskers were quivering, betraying his excitement. His voice and body were calm and collected, but even his best face could not hide the note of pride in his voice. He stepped a bit closer to the creature, clicking as if in reassurance under his breath. “She is the first specimen to live this long…she is out of adolescence now, and none before have lived this long. Her sisters look promising, however. They may be the start of a new era of progress in this project.”

Sensing perhaps that she didn’t need to stand and be gawked at, the creature moved to grab a towel, her back to the two of them. She proceeded at drying and primping herself as if the two of them were not there. Gravy found she couldn’t stop staring. The thing’s body was furless and thick, but its fingers did look skilled, and she could see it easily swinging around in the great gears of machines too intricate for any Jana to slip into.

But she also imagined the process to making it, the countless creatures gutted and left alive twitching on the table of some mad scientist with a syringe and a mask. She wondered if this creature had grown in a tube…if she knew she’d been robbed of a mother’s touch and a father’s kiss and if that meant anything to her alien mind.

“Go get dressed,” Drum ordered the creature suddenly, and Gravy started at the sudden interruption to her thoughts. He turned to her, looking very sombre and, dare she think, eager. “I want nothing more than to ask you right now what you think,” he confessed, “but I cannot hope to do so right now.” He peered into her face. “This has been a great part of my life for many decades, Commander,” he continued, “so I hope you understand my impatience and forgive it. Do you have any questions?”

“Does she…speak?” Gravy felt almost foolish. There were so many more, more important questions she could have asked, but that was the first that came to her mind.

“So far, not as such,” he admitted. “Her vocal cords are not like ours, and she is…well, not as expressive in the face.” He pulled at his whiskers, a gesture that done by anyone else would have looked anxious. “But she takes well to the mute language, as you can see. I’m thinking of inviting some Mir to see her…their vocal cords are similar, I think.”

As they talked he led her into the next room, where the creature had already pulled on the uniform. It didn’t hug her, but it didn’t hang off of her either. She looked comfortable, but stood at attention (as well as her strange frame could), facing them with large eyes that weren’t as empty as Gravy would’ve liked. Drum called her over with the wave of a paw, and as she drifted closer, Gravy wrinkled her nose at the strong scent of perfumed soap on her, which barely hid the scent of bloody meat.

“As you can see, they are quite small. And very agile too. Perhaps later you can see her when she practices. Hold up your paw for the Commander.” He sounded smug as he requested this, and for comparison, put his own paw up. “Five fingers, deceptively quick and dexterous despite only having two joints. The initial plan to use them to work on machines is very promising.” He put his hand down and patted at his hips. “They’re not terribly strong physically, but quite durable and dedicated. She’s conquered almost every challenge we’ve thrown at her with gusto, and so did her siblings.”

Her siblings.

The ones that died.

Gravy suppressed her shudder and looked closer at the creature. Now that she looked, she supposed she could see some uses for them. She still didn’t feel comfortable knowing how the creature had come about.

“Exceptionally productive as well,” Drum continued. “Not mindlessly obedient, though. She questions you, if she feels she must, but shows surprising perception.”

The creature surprised Gravy by clicking at Drum. Gravy didn’t speak the mute language, but she understood a few words. She glanced uneasily at Drum; the creature had addressed her.

“No, no, she won’t,” Drum answered firmly. “Go prepare for your lessons. You’ll be with Gears today.”

The creature nodded, but Gravy noted it did not do so without disappointment in its wide, expressive eyes. It bowed slightly at its low waist and then turned and left the room, as carefree as you please and with the energetic buzz of a youngster.

“There are other uses for them, I think, beyond the obvious and the intended,” Drum said, though he spoke so low and slow Gravy wondered if he was talking to himself. “She doesn’t, but before they died, some of her batchmates showed extreme artistic talent, and one in particular seemed to be somewhat of a genius with tools. Simple tools, of course, we wouldn’t give anything too dangerous to a youngster, but still…they are quite the spectacle, my little tube-born daughters.”

“Daughters?”

Drum blinked at her, as if he had just remembered she was there. “Yes.” He tilted his head to the side and tugged at his whisker. “A majority of the synthicated are female, and there is a reason for that. We toyed with the idea of making males as well, but the fact is they have a lower survival rate, and it is much more practical to, given the choice, keep the female of the species alive, so you can make more. For we always find we need to make more” He looked sad, Gravy thought, mourning the loss of his many sons and many daughters. “All of the last batch are female. If enough of them survive, we can test our theory of conception and impregnation, and see if they even can breed. We have tests proving she has hit puberty, and her reproductive system is active, but does it bear fruit? Can they bear? If they can, it will be a great weight off of our shoulders.” He grinned, but it was a cracking expression. “To have such a force, a self-sustaining, intelligent workforce…why, Commander, that could be just the push we need to gain the upper hand.”

Gravy wished she could smile as well, but she was still unsettled. The thing had looked too intelligent for her, and it had spoken to her, even if she hadn’t understood it. And it smelled of meat and blood and she could not help but think of the specimens in the lab.

“I will be back soon to see more of the creature,” she decided. “Keep me updated on her progress…me and me alone. Not even my lieutenant shall receive word of this, understand?”

“Perfectly, Commander.” Drum was agreeable enough, and since their business had obviously concluded, he led her to the platform. “Next time, perhaps, stay a little longer? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind the company.”

“Perhaps.” While his back was turned, Gravy laid a hand on her belly, which still roiled with disgust and unease. “She is a remarkable creature, Professor Drum.”

“She is,” he agreed. “And she has a name.”

Gravy stiffened, her tail twitching. “A name?" That’s…ludicrous. Why would you name such a thing? Especially when its chances of survival were proven to be low?

"Yes.” Drum patted at his hips again and tugged at his whisker. “Are you familiar with the Mir creation myth?”

Gravy wracked her brain, but found little. The religions of others meant little to her. So long as they worked, she didn’t care what they believed in, and she also didn’t bother to learn it. “I can’t say that I am,” she admitted.

“It’s interesting, at least to me. A bit similar to our own, but with all mothers combined into one.” He sighed, almost wistfully. “They believe in one Mother to all life and all possibility. She is the Mother of us all…not our creator, not our dictator…our Mother.” His tone took a smug note again. “And that is what she is, isn’t it? She is the mother of the future, of all possibility. She could be the foundation of great things to come. Why, she could even be the mother of a youngster of her own, if all goes well. That’s why we named her Mira, you see? She is the Mother.”

Gravy thought of the creature, soft and muscular and intelligent, and then thought of her own mother. Her mind rejected the comparison, but she made herself nod. “Very symbolic.”

“It is.” Drum smiled at her over his shoulder. The platform slid to a halt. “This has been quite productive, I hope, Commander. When you visit again, we may have more to show you.”

“I look forward to it,” Gravy lied, and stepped out of the platform.