Aphelion

I'm having to put this into two separate posts due to the board's character limits

Below are the first three chapters of my novel-in-progress. It comes out to about 25 pages single-spaced, some 13,000 words. It's the start of a long ride. I'm just guessing, but the finished product could end up weighing in at over 450 pages.

From as many of you as are willing, I'd like commentary on it. All comments are welcome, but I'm chiefly concerned with how well this works as an opener. If it loses your interest and you can't finish it, tell me when and why. Same for if you had questions that weren't getting answered quickly enough to satisfy you. Does this much of the story tell you enough to want the rest? Does it tell too much? You get the idea.

The first two chapters are below; the third will follow in a second post.

Step aboard . . .

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June 2013 edit

#

MINUS THIRTY-NINE DAYS

The man called Sammy straightened the limp body of the unconscious alien and began his examination. "Okay, let's see what we got here . . . " His voice echoed metallically in the spacecraft's tiny cabin as he clipped a recorder to his shirt collar. "Subject, uh . . . " he looked around the hindquarters, lifted the tail, then a leg. "Female. Mammalian, bipedal, digitigrade, fur-bearing . . . bilaterally symmetric, two arms, two legs, two eyes, two ears, all the same shit we got two of . . . one bushy tail, very long, thick at the root. Mmm, two mammary glands, small, located -- below the navel, I'm guessing." He brushed back her coat. "Fur is long and silky, with a thick undercoat, nice for the chilly climate -- reddish in color on back and sides, kinda tan on the belly and most of the face -- dark brown above the eyes and over the top of the head." Prying an eyelid up, "Eyes -- green. Yellow. Yellow-green. Kinda cute for a -- whatever it is." He fished a tape measure from his pocket and stretched it out. "Length, ah, a hundred and forty-two centimeters. Weight . . . hey, you guys bring the scale?"

The pilot snorted. "No. You think we got room in here for everything?"

"Well, Roy, you got your ego through the hatch . . . aaah, I'll just guess at it -- weight is, say, forty-five kilos, give or take, she's a little plump."

The man in the copilot's seat said, "You're s'posed to call it 'it,' not 'she.' "

"Well, that works fine for you, Red, since you don't know what a female of any species looks like anyway . . . "

"Ha . . . ha."

"Yeah. Uh, what else . . . feet -- four toes each, first and fourth are shorter than the other two -- like a dog's, pretty much, but on the large side . . . heavy, blunt claws . . . a little webbing between the toes. Umm, looks like a rudimentary heel pad on the hocks. Hands -- three fingers, one thumb, located same as ours -- skin on the palms is leathery, and -- callused, if I'm not mistaken; looks like our girl did some work. Fingers are long and fine. Nails, curved, not too thick, extending a little beyond the fingertips . . . looks like they may have been trimmed."

"Sammy, you really choke at that, y'know?"

"Yeah, well, the colonel just wanted a physical description, and I got the job. Now, where was I . . . ribcage, rather deep and narrow . . . shoulders are narrow; not prominent, and slightly forward on the body. Mm, no backpack for you, honey, it'd slide right off . . . fairly long arms, slender wrists. Hmm . . . there's a kind of a permanent crease in the fur, in a line around the middle . . . maybe she had something strapped around her waist.

"Head . . . longish . . . uh, binocular vision . . . ears are pointed and erect, not too prominent, maybe about ten centimeters above the top of the head . . . mmm, not much of a forehead, but I suspect a reasonable cranial volume. Mild facial notch . . . uh, the muzzle slopes down in a bit of a curve forward of the eyes -- mouth is somewhat V-shaped at the front. The line of the jaw is curved down . . . Nostrils . . . uh, inverted L-shape, no nose leather. The lips close, but they're a little thin . . . " He pried them open on one side. "Teeth . . . uh, some blunt ones in the back -- molars, I guess -- canines, kinda sharp, but not too long -- smaller teeth at the front, uppers only slightly larger than lowers. All yellowish, but look like they're in decent shape. Gums are pink, with a few dark spots that I take to be normal coloring." Opening the jaw farther, "Tongue . . . kinda narrow, pink, a little thin, looks like it has taste buds on it."

He pocketed the tape measure and picked up a handheld medical scanner. "Now, to the inside . . . see whatcha got here . . . pulse, eighty-eight -- it's got a funny sort of an echo, though, maybe some extra chambers in there. Respiration thirty-three, temperature, thirty-eight. Mmm, internal organs, yeah, they're in there . . . don't know what they are, but they're in there . . . heart, lungs, digestive system, some other stuff -- waitaminute, what's this? Wha, hooo -- hey, guys, we got a bonus! I though she looked funny; it's 'cause she's preggers! Man, the colonel's gonna be so happy, he won't even shoot us for bein' late!"

"What?"

"A twofer?"

"Ev'ry day, all the way -- I got two heartbeats! Hang on here, lemme see if I can dial this in . . . aaaah, if my eyes don't deceive me, I think it's a boy. Congratulations, Roy, whattaya gonna name him?"

"I think 'Sammy' has a nice ring to it . . . "

Sammy laughed. "You bastard . . . all right, enough of this shit." He pulled the recorder off and dropped it in his pocket. "Red, come help me get her in the cage."

"What, you can't do that by yourself?"

Sammy's voice turned frosty. "Red, the colonel said, 'handle with care,' and if we put any scratches or dents in this used model, he'll be makin' a pair of boots out of our asses. Now, move it."

"All right, all right . . . " Red came aft.

"Okay, make sure you got a good grip . . . watch your step . . . easy, now, slide her in there . . . good." Sammy tucked the tail in and then closed the cage door and padlocked it, then covered the cage with a small tarp.

"All right. Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm gonna grab a snack and hit the rack." He rummaged in a carton of assorted ration bars. "Dammit, I don't know why they give these things different names; they all taste like cardboard . . . "

"Yeah, except for the ones that taste like sawdust . . . "

"Or shit . . . "

Sammy unwrapped one, chewed and swallowed a bite. "I'll tell you what -- next time I go to qualify, I'm takin' a case of these to the range for targets, and I'm gonna shoot every goddamn last one of 'em."


MINUS THREE DAYS

There were sounds of heavy machinery hissing and whining, along with the voices, the same three she'd been hearing, and then the metal box jostled. She heard them moving around the box, concussive footfalls like a draft animal, doing something, and then the box began moving, bumped a little and tilted slightly and moved downward, then bumped and leveled out again and stopped.

There was air movement now, a little blowing into the box, cool and inviting, and she could smell earth and unfamiliar vegetation in growth and decay, and hear a little wind. There were also sounds as of animal life, insects, in the middle distance. Tantalizing hints of light reflected irregularly around the woven wire end of the box.

Again, the box moved, bumped and tilted again, moving up this time, the voices grunting with effort and talking loudly before the box came to rest. The voices moved around it some more, accompanied by metallic rattling, and then went away, and she heard different machine-sounds, one beginning almost directly below her that drowned out the others and vibrated the box itself. Everything lurched and jostled for a few moments, and then the movement steadied out. Now, more air blew in under the covering, and she leaned against the wire to savor its coolness. The monotonous noise and fresh air lulled her to sleep.

She was shocked awake by a loud percussion almost directly below her, and everything lurched sharply to one side, then back to the other. There was rumbling and howling, and before she could try to brace herself, the box spun, there was a flash of pain, and everything went black.


#

Sammy shook his head and cursed. The truck was in the ditch, leaning heavily on its side. He could make out that the hood was twisted and sprung, steam rolling out. Crumbled safety glass was everywhere, the windshield hanging out, airbags limp, his safety harness digging into him at hip and shoulder. Engine dead, panel lights on, buzzer keening. He pulled the ignition key from the lock and dropped it, shut off the lights. He couldn't reach the seatbelt buckle -- or his knife. Ahead, he saw the escort car come toward him in reverse, stop. Red jumped out and ran back.

"Goddamn, man, what the fuck happened? You all right?"

"Tire blew out, I think -- I'm okay -- fuck -- I can't get this belt -- cut this fuckin' thing, we gotta get outta here."

Red reached in with a knife. "Awright, hang on -- you ready?"

Sammy hung onto the steering wheel. "Yah, go."

The blade parted the webbing, and it lashed through the seatbelt buckle as Sammy swung across the seat, banging his legs on the gearshift. He got his feet under him and kicked out the remains of the windshield and squirmed through the opening, with Red pulling his arm. Sammy shook broken glass out of his clothing. "Fuck -- ouch! Come on, let's get outta here before someone sees us."

"What about -- " Red pointed at the back of the truck.

"Leave it; let's go -- "

"But -- "

He was already jogging for the car. "Standing orders; anything happens, we leave it and run; let's go! You drive, I'll call the colonel . . . "


#

Pain. More intense than any she'd experienced, her consciousness wobbling in and out of darkness. She tried to focus, tried to locate her body in its place and condition. What happened?

On her side, her back down in some hard corner. Taste of blood. She blinked her eyes, trying to see, but they didn't want to focus. The pain in her head was the worst; hardly anything else registered past it. My baby. Unknown. She tried to move, but couldn't even be sure, were those her legs? They hurt uncertainly, felt far away, reluctant to answer. A dull ache in her lower back. Her arms were under her, weren't they? The right one felt afire, direly wrong. She tried to move it, and blacked out again.

Consciousness returned, wavering, her head roaring. She felt nauseous and lay still, not disturbing herself, avoiding the pain from every tiniest motion. Noxious odors, strange.

Her eyes opened, the left one still unable to focus. Still. Stay. See. Just in front of her face was a tilted rectangle, darkness around it, faint light coming through.

Stars. She lay blinking, breathing, her whole body shaking in pain. She looked at the stars, and saw a familiar pattern, the great Crystal River spilled across the sky, with its dark lanes like islands in a stream. Something was wrong, though . . . the constellations were distorted. The Bird's Head was missing its eye, the Fish was bent at an angle instead of gracefully curved. She tried to move her head to see more, and the blackness took her again.


#

Robbie and Jeanne MacAllen had passed up an invitation to a card party, and instead were lying between a couple of blankets near the dead end of a secondary road, looking up at the stars. That wasn't all they'd been doing; they each knew they had something special in the other, and were mindful to demonstrate their appreciation accordingly.

This night had been special; a little crazy; seeing the clarity of the night sky and spontaneously going out away from the lights to park like teenagers and gawp at the Milky Way. They snuggled against each other and spoke in whispers, as if afraid to disturb the beauty of the night.

After some long silence, he said, "We should really be going home soon . . . "

"I think I could stay here . . . but you're right . . . "

"Work tomorrow . . . "

"And the students can talk about us being all sparkly-eyed . . . "

"Maybe they'll learn something new."

She laughed and slapped him lightly on the chest. "Come on -- before we're here another hour . . . "

They got their clothes on and shook out the blankets and put them in the car, headed back toward Midland, and their home on the Griffin Institute campus.

They were barely ten minutes on the road when they saw the wrecked truck in the ditch. There was still steam floating up from the hood. Robbie pulled to the side a little way behind it. "Call the police; I'll see if anyone needs help there."

He took a flashlight and got out while she made the call.

He went to the cab first, calling out and getting no response. He walked around the front and down into the ditch, shining the light in, seeing the glass and the severed end of the seatbelt, but finding no one, and swept the beam around the area to see if a victim had been thrown clear of the wreck. The area reeked of spilled coolant and motor fuel.

Jeanne was out now, phone in hand, approaching the back of the truck. "They're on the way . . . "

He shook his head at her. "There's nobody here . . . "

"What's this?"

"I don't know . . . " He shone the light over the distorted metal box with the tarpaulin still covering part of it. One end had a steel mesh door hanging open from one hinge. He directed the flashlight beam in through the opening.

Jeanne's hand went to her mouth. "Oh lord . . . "

"Dear, sweet -- "

"What is that?!"

"Some kind of animal -- ? It's alive, I can see it breathing . . . oh, God, it's bleeding . . . "

"Don't touch it . . . "

"I've never seen anything like that . . . "

"Come on, let's just stay over here; the police will be here soon . . . please, dear . . . "

"You're right . . . we should get back in the car."

They'd scarcely gotten the doors closed when the sheriff's air-car descended onto the pavement, with blue strobes, and a floodlight beamed at the truck. One officer got out with a flashlight and began searching the wreck, while another, a female, came to their car to question them. Robbie pointed to the box. "Ma'am, there's some kind of injured animal in there . . . "

"Stay here, then, I'll want to talk with you soon." She trotted over to the box and looked in, and called to her partner.

At that moment, another vehicle descended: an ambulance, adding red and white strobes to the dizzying display. Both deputies ran to it, with worried looks on their faces. The EMTs ran to the box, and one reached in with a handheld device for a moment, then they ran back and got in the ambulance, coming out a minute later with equipment cases, and speaking urgently to the officers. The one deputy fumbled at her microphone, and Robbie and Jeanne heard her say something about 'Terran Government' and 'unregistered extraterrestrial.'

The two EMTs were joined by a third, and they ran to the truck and began working. One leaned half-into the box with something, and the other two appeared to be monitoring instruments and carrying on communications. State police vehicles arrived from both directions, blocking the road with more blue strobes. Officers got out and began placing stanchions and stringing yellow barrier tape across the road.

The female deputy came back to Robbie and Jeanne. "I'm sorry to inconvenience you, but do you both have your IDs with you?"

"Yes . . . "

"Bring those and come with me, please. You're not in trouble, I just want to get your report, okay?"

"Of course . . . "

The deputy held the rear door of the sheriff's car for them and they all got in. She scanned their IDs and had them verify their names and address and a few other mundane details. Then she recorded their statement, where they'd been coming from and why (stargazing, they both said) and whether they'd seen any other traffic. She finished up and was about to dismiss them, but Jeanne asked, "What is that thing in there? Do you know?"

"It's an unregistered alien . . . "

"Unregistered? What's that mean?"

"It's an unfamiliar species. Not on record; one we've never seen before."

Just at that moment, the whole surrounding area, for at least a hundred yards in every direction, lit up like midsummer noon.

The deputy said, "That'll be the Terran Government officials . . . they sure got here quick . . . " Another such circle of light appeared on the road ahead of them and began slowly spiraling around the area. "Sorry, folks, but you might as well stay here; they'll probably want to talk with you." She left them there and got out, as yet another air-car descended in front of them, casting its shadow on the road. It was sleek-looking, black, with a green strobe. They could make out the medallion of the Terran Government on its side.

Robbie said, "It's like Christmas out there, but in megawatts . . . "

Jeanne said, "They haven't got orange or purple yet . . . or yellow . . . "

Yellow came next, from yet farther ahead, on a large vehicle with the Null-Space Five News logo splashed across it. Three people got out and ran toward them, two bearing equipment. The state troopers stopped them briefly, pointing and waving around the site, then let them proceed.

The news crew intercepted the EMTs, who were now trotting toward the ambulance carrying a stretcher with a sheet-covered figure on it; one of them had an IV bag in hand. They ignored the news people, loaded into the ambulance, and it began to lift the second they got the door closed. The Terran Government craft doused its light and fell in behind, as the ambulance sped for the horizon.

The news crew swarmed toward the smaller government vehicle, but were herded back by the deputies and troopers.

A man got out of the government car and spoke briefly with the police, made a statement for the newspeople, then got back in his vehicle.

The female deputy jogged back to the car and got in. "Terran Government says they'll talk to you later. The vultures aren't going away, and they have the right to report, and the other networks will be here soon. If you just give them their thirty seconds, I'll escort you to your car and you can be on your way. Okay?"

Robbie and Jeanne looked at each other. "It'll give the students something to talk about . . . "


#

Colonel Grainger was on the secure phone with Sammy.

"No, stay where you are and wait. Another team should be there in a few minutes. When they arrive, you change into the clothes they give you and swap vehicles. They'll dispose of your vehicle and tell you what to say. You wore the gloves, right? Good. It's taken care of; I have witnesses who will place you elsewhere.

"Quit apologizing; shit happens, and you followed orders. Why do you think I had all these contingency plans ready anyway? That's right." He broke the connection.

He thought for a moment about whether to call Kobler or not. The alien would either live or die, and it couldn't identify anyone in either case. But if it lived . . . the Terran Government would want it alive . . . where would they take it?

Right smack into Kobler's lap . . .



#

"Breaking news! We're here on the scene, west of Midland, Michigan, where a previously-unknown species of alien was discovered by Robert and Jeanne MacAllen, both employed as teachers at the Griffin Institute. Mr. MacAllen, can you tell us how you happened to discover this alien?"

"Well, we were just driving along this road, and saw this truck in the ditch. We called police and got out to look, and saw the creature in a steel box . . . "

"Can you describe what the alien looked like?"

"Uh, we really didn't get too good a look at it . . . I saw long fur on it, and thought it was some kind of animal -- "

"How big would you say it was?"

"Mm, maybe the size of a small human being . . . I think it had a tail . . . "

"Thank you, Mr. MacAllen! Also at the scene, just moments ago, we spoke with Terran Government field agent Christopher Dawson; here's what he had to say."

"This is indeed a species that is not recognized or listed in our registry . . . the alien has sustained injuries and is unconscious at this time; it's being transported to the Xenological Medicine department at the Griffin Institute for treatment. We'll be attempting to communicate with it as soon as possible, but the larger issue we're investigating is how it came to be on Earth."

"That was Agent Dawson of the Terran Government, speaking just moments ago about this unprecedented find. Stay tuned to Null-Space Five News for all the latest coverage. Live and in real time, I'm Susan Petalli."


#

Dr. Alfred Corey walked out of surgery in his scrubs and sneakers. The clock gave the time as 03:43 local, and on this night, he had mixed feelings about being on the early shift.

As expected, Thomas Alva Griffin was waiting for him, tall and angular, dynamic, as always. Short hair grey at the temples, and dressed in jeans and a chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up. A pilot's chronometer on his wrist -- a real one, not one of the flashy fakes. Soft boat-moccasins, no socks.

He had a stranger with him, a slender man of medium height and Asian-American stock, dressed all in black; suit, shirt, and tie. "Alfred, this is Inspector David Chu, from Interpol; he's here working on the investigation."

"Pleased to meet you, Inspector."

"Likewise, Doctor Corey. . . . " He gave a slight, precise bow, extended a hand, and they shook.

Mr. Griffin looked worried. "How's she doing, Alfred?"

He shook his head. "Not good . . . I'm surprised she's still alive. What happened to her, anyway?"

"She was found in a steel box, in the back of a wrecked truck. She must have been thrown against the side of it when it crashed. What about the baby -- ?"

"The fetus is in a pretty advanced stage of development, and doesn't seem to have suffered much damage; likely viable, but -- no way the mother could survive labor in the condition she's in . . . "

"Well. How are you holding up? I know you were in there for a long time, but the Interlocutor is waiting to hear from us about our mystery guest . . . do you feel up to it -- ?"

Alfred exhaled. "The Interlocutor -- of course; the Charter . . . " He ran a hand through his hair. "Is there coffee -- ?"

"Of course. We're just going to be in the conference room around the corner; I've set up a videoconference there . . . "

Alfred nodded. "That's good. I don't want to get too far away . . . "

Mr. Griffin nodded. "Fine. Let's go. I know you've been too busy to study the scans, but Raj has been going over them, so if you feel lost, just pass to him. By the way, the Charter has rotated their postings; we have a new Interlocutor, a Gudk, named Goden. Address her by name; don't bother with formalities; she's very direct."

Inspector Chu said, "Gudk -- they're the ones with skin like a cuttlefish, aren't they -- ?"

"Yes -- non-mammalian humanoid -- interesting species. Their civilization is quite old."

There were other Griffin staff already in the conference room: the two heads of the Xenology Department, Director Roger Brickel and Assistant Director Hubert Kobler; Hospital Administrator Sandra Josephson, and another xenologist, Dr. Raj Mohamet, all in casual business attire despite the late hour. Griffin introduced them to Inspector Chu while Alfred got coffee from the sideboard.

Their seats were marked with name-cards along a broad desktop facing a wall-spanning theater screen, and each seat had a small terminal. The screen image was broken up into segments, each showing the face of one of the conferees and labeled with their name and organizational affiliation. Beside those present in the room, the screen showed the Interlocutor; the Terran Ambassador, the Admiral of the Terran Space Forces, the Chief of the Terran Marshals, a U.S. Federal Marshal, the Director of the FBI, the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and the Canadian Armed Forces Council.

Some additional frames on the screen were blank, and one showed a sequence of images of the alien: some still photos, some medical scans.

The Interlocutor's skin had been moving in very slow ripples of grey and white down the length of her body, but once she saw that everyone was seated, her skin stopped moving and turned a uniform mahogany color. She spoke, her English accented as though with a stiff tongue. "Let us proceed. The Charter is concerned that this creature may be a hoax -- an artificial life-form. Arguments, Griffin?"

"Goden, we've transmitted the scan to you. The DNA is clearly new to our experience, as you've seen."

"This is the nature of hoaxes, Griffin. The circumstances are -- problematic."

"I agree, Goden. Allow us to address the biological proof first. Dr. Raj Mohamet will explain."

Raj said, "Uh, Goden -- obviously, her DNA is novel; if these creatures are an artifact, someone went to unnecessary trouble. We find eighty-two chromosomes; eighty autosomal and two sexual. We have warm-blooded vertebrates here on Earth with as few as ten chromosomes. Also, the subject species have at least one internal organ for which we haven't guessed a purpose. The fetus is a male, guaranteeing a father someplace, as the fetus's DNA also shows. We haven't had time to extrapolate specific genetic traits yet, but we know he's unique.

"Next, in her lungs, we found pollen and spores, which are also entirely alien to us. There were also small amounts of soot from wood smoke and coal smoke, yet again from unfamiliar sources. Her gut fauna are also alien. As well, the skin of her hands retained staining from several kinds of vegetable and mineral dyes, none of them dietary; the vegetable dye samples yielded high-quality genetic material, also entirely alien to us.

"The conclusion seems inescapable to me, Goden -- she's a product of a completely alien environment, and not a manufactured item. If she were a hoax, then whoever built her would have had to generate an entire and complex biota to support her -- and the baby's father."

The Interlocutor's skin extruded little peaks of bright blue-green. "An entire ecology."

"Yes, Goden -- all the way from soil and air, to microorganisms, up to -- well -- her."

"You imply that it would be easier and less expensive to abduct such a creature from its -- her -- native environment than it would be to create her artificially."

"Oh, yes, Goden -- by several orders of magnitude."

"She breathes your air . . . what food has she been living on?"

"Analysis of her stomach contents indicate that she's been living on human-sourced concentrated ration bars; typical survival rations."

"Where would these rations have come from?"

"Uh, that's -- not my area of expertise . . . "

Mr. Griffin interjected. "They're everywhere, Goden. Stocked in every spacecraft's lifeboats and shuttles; they're a dietary mainstay on mining colonies and fuel depots . . . standard component of survival kits, disaster relief, military field rations. Pallets of them go in and out of spaceports every day."

"Traceable to a source?"

"Yes, but not to a distribution chain. They're produced in the millions per year, and in some places, such as Fringe colonies, they're used as currency for trade. A given case could change hands any number of times, and there's no chain of custody; they're unregulated."

"Understood." She paused for a moment, as though thinking, and her color turned a cloudy blue. She wore no visible headset, but Alfred suspected she was linked somehow. "The Charter has determined the subject to be a natural life-form, species unnamed, native to a Prime Class planet, location unknown. Sentience?"

Raj responded. "She has a sophisticated brain structure with a high level of neural activity . . . we haven't been able to test her yet, but that's a promising indication. Also, she has binocular vision, and her hands are very like ours, with opposable thumbs and comparable dexterity. Her vocal apparatus is easily capable of complex language."

David Chu signaled for recognition. The Interlocutor looked up. "You are the Interpol team leader, correct?"

"Yes, Goden. Touching that last point, there was a language translator found in the vehicle that she'd been transported in, and it was seeded with about fifteen hundred words of an unknown language. We presume it was used to communicate with her. We traced its serial number, but that was a dead end. We've copied its contents into a new unit that I have with me."

A wave of yellow passed down her body. "Very good. Alfred, how soon may we attempt to speak with her?"

"I can't say, Goden. Her injuries were very extensive . . . concussion, hemorrhage, organ damage, broken bones . . . she could die without ever regaining consciousness. And -- inducing consciousness with stimulants would be stressful, as well."

Goden's skin convulsed in ripples of dull greenish brown. "That would be a tragic loss . . . any communication with her would be extremely valuable . . . be sure to have a recorder on her at all times, and patch it through that translator. What about her baby?"

"There's no way to be sure how close she is to full term, but I do believe the baby is viable. We'd have to take him by C-section, though; the mother could not survive labor in her condition."

"Would she survive the procedure -- ?"

"She's barely surviving now, Goden . . . if she takes a turn for the worse, we'll take the baby, but we should wait as long as possible."

"Understood. Are there further comments -- ?"

Raj said, "Yes, Goden. We noticed in particular, a lack of certain chemicals in her tissues -- plastics, artificial fertilizers and pesticides, pharmaceuticals, metals, other pollutants. These are found in the bodies of everyone on Earth, and a number of other industrialized worlds as well. We may surmise that her species have not yet developed widespread industry."

The Interlocutor's skin went a purple-brown color, with a bumpy texture. "Lack of pollutants in the body is not conclusive. Our own species have no such, as we have disallowed such pollutants on our world for millennia, and, with technical help, the planet has cleansed itself of them. However, the soot supports your inference. More?"

"Ah, also, Goden, her hands are callused, indicating she performed regular manual labor, and . . .. mm, what else . . . oh -- we found a small wound on her back, which is very distinctive; it was made by an electro-dart, of the type used by Terran police and military. We're certain this was the means of capture used by her abductors."

Goden's skin went glassy-smooth now, mottled in sharp-edged patterns of black and red. Her eyes turned bright orange. "The Charter finds sufficient evidence to declare the species sentient. The implications of this are very serious. Further findings?"

The chief of the Terran Marshals spoke up. "Goden, unfortunately, the conclusion seems inescapable. The -- subject species was found unconscious in a wheeled metal container that had been locked from the outside. The container was unidentifiable, being a one-of-a-kind fabrication and obviously made for this specific purpose. This container was found on a vehicle whose registration had been falsified, and all of its serial numbers obliterated. We found DNA and fingerprints of five individuals in the vehicle, but no records exist that match this evidence to any known person. We're investigating the possibility that records may have been erased. Active and passive searches are in progress for any individuals whose DNA or fingerprints match those found on the vehicle, as well as for the DNA of the subject species.

"Further, there was a second ground vehicle involved. Evidence at the crash site shows that the driver of the wrecked vehicle was helped out of it and departed with another driver. Neither the men, nor the second vehicle, have been found, but the search continues. In addition, it seems as if the place and timing of the landing were chosen to avoid regular surveillance, including that by satellite."

He paused, as someone from off-camera passed him a piece of paper. He cleared his throat. "Goden, I've just received word of a new development in the investigation. About fourteen kilometers from the crash site, where the subject species was found, the Terran Government survey ship has found the imprints from the landing legs of what they take to be a small spacecraft. Immediately next to these imprints are tire tracks matching those of the wrecked vehicle, as well as tire tracks matching the wheels of the metal container that the subject species had been locked inside of. We're now searching for a match to that spacecraft . . . " He rubbed a hand over his head, looking faint.

The admiral of the Terran Space Forces asked, "Do you have those images? Can we get them on the screen?"

A few seconds passed, and one of the blank screen segments displayed an arial scan image, looking straight down on a paved road next to a field. The imprints were vaguely visible in the night-vision image. The admiral said, "Magnify, please . . . "

The view zoomed in, and the admiral said, "I can identify that. It's a Deep Scout vessel. They're strictly long-range recon; hardly any payload capacity or armament. Mostly fuel tanks, power core, and scanners, and far more cramped than a submarine. Maximum crew of three; payload capacity is scarcely more than half a ton."

He'd hardly gotten the words out when another screen segment displayed the listing from Jane's Fighting Spacecraft, showing the specifications of it. A red outline flashed around the craft's landing gear and matched it perfectly against the imprints on the ground.

The Interlocutor asked, "What is the range of this craft?"

"If the crew could stand it, you could fly nonstop for about two months without refueling."

"Roughly six thousand light-years."

"One way, yes . . . half that for a round trip."

The Interlocutor's skin went velvet black in radiating spikes, her eyes now luminous red. "Did it get through Charter-controlled space undetected?"

The admiral said, "Yes, Goden. Its presence was not registered by any of the usual sensors."

"This implicates Terran military in the possible development, procurement, and deployment of contravened stealth technology, or at the very least, the negligent dispossession of a military spacecraft. Someone's career will end.

"The Charter recognizes two concurrent Acts of Hostility: the forcible abduction of a sentient species, and the use of contravened stealth technology in Charter-controlled space. Effective immediately, every one of those ships is to be accounted for and grounded for inspection, under direct Guardian supervision, by all necessary means. I want the complete history of every one of them. Also effective immediately, all Terran-controlled space is under provisional quarantine. Every ship will be scanned and boarded for inspection, both at departure and arrival. Flight plans are to be filed and followed meticulously; passenger and cargo manifests likewise.

"Guardian personnel of all grades will be provided to assist, supervise, and intervene as needed in the apprehension of the individuals responsible for these acts, without regard to their species, affiliation, or status.

"These are harsh measures, but the perpetrators of these acts may have already started an interstellar war. We must proceed on the worst-case assumption until we know otherwise. This includes the assumption that she is a person of high status or value on her home world."

Goden's color lightened to mottled grey, and her texture softened. "The abductee is granted the status of Charter Protectorate until further notice. She and her dependent will be provided appropriate food, housing, medical care, and personal comfort; also repatriation expense to their ancestral world when its location becomes known; this will also include the return of her remains in the event of her death. Also, constant personal security will be administered by two Charter Guardians, Grade One. Until further notice, Terran military personnel are forbidden to be within line of sight of her or her dependent without prior Charter clearance, regardless of nationality, rank, or duty status.

"Griffin -- having necessary expertise and secure facilities, are you willing to administer Protectorate benefits at Charter expense?"

"It would be my honor, Goden. Further, for the duration of their stay on Earth, I will offer unlimited education to the abductee and her child, at my own expense, at any Griffin facility."

"The Charter recognizes your beneficence, and extends gratitude. We sincerely hope they both survive to enjoy it."

"We're doing our best, Goden."

"Thank you, Griffin. That is all for now."


#

Mr. Griffin and David Chu followed Alfred back to surgery -- the alien was in such delicate condition that he hadn't even wanted her moved to the ICU. In the observation room, Alfred checked in with Dr. Hoh, who'd been monitoring her condition. "Any changes -- ?"

"No, Doctor . . . "

"Hm. The good news is the same as the bad news . . . hmm . . . does she have milk?"

"Uh, let's see -- " Dr. Hoh brought up a scan image. "Yes -- "

"Good. Get a breast pump and extract a sample -- gently -- and get it to the lab. Have them filter it for the drugs we've got in her, and get them synthesizing more of it. Tell them we'll need -- " he closed his eyes and ran a hand over his head, " -- one liter a day. Now. Go."

Mr. Griffin said, "If they can't make that much here, I'll put one of my other facilities on it."

Alfred looked at him and said, "Thank you." He then sat in the chair in front of the monitor and began looking at the scan information.

Inspector Chu said, "Sir, I have the translator here -- "

Griffin turned to him. "Thank you, Inspector." He took the item and walked to a corner of the room where the A/V equipment was controlled. He looked at the translator briefly, then sat down at the board and found a power cradle for it, and then an I/O cable. He patched it in and set the recorder to run continuously. While he was there, he double-checked that the video feeds were also recording.

He stood and said, "If we get any information, we'll contact you immediately. Is there anything else we can do to help, Inspector -- ?"

"Not that I can think of, now, and I have a lot to do." He extended a hand. "It's been an honor meeting you, sir, and I thank you for your cooperation."

They shook hands, and Griffin said, "Always glad to help. Wish the circumstances were more pleasant. Can you find your way out -- ?"

"Yes -- " he took a little tracker out of his pocket. "My air-car is on the roof."

"Good. Safe skies, Inspector."

Chu left the room, and Griffin turned to look at Alfred. "What are you looking for . . . ?"

"Anything more I can do to keep her alive . . . I don't think there is, though . . . it's the Hemosyn, the blood substitute we've given her. It's only meant to be used short-term, until a donor supply can be found. She's lost too much of her own blood, and her body can't make up the deficit in time . . . the Hemosyn transports oxygen, but that's all it does . . . "

Griffin spoke softly. "How long . . . ?"

Alfred shook his head and sighed. "Days. Maybe two or three . . . even though we've got her blood pressure and volume within an acceptable range, she'll die of toxicity and malnutrition . . . "

"Gods . . . what about the baby -- ?"

"It's affecting him, too -- not as much, but . . . if we don't take him, soon, then -- his health could be compromised; maybe his development . . . "

"Is he better off where he is -- ?"

"For now -- but not for long -- besides, he'll need that milk."

Griffin put a hand on Alfred's shoulder. "I trust your judgement. But I think you could do with some rest."

Alfred sighed and nodded. "As soon as Dr. Hoh gets back."

"Good."

As threatened, here is the third chapter.

*******************************************


ZERO

At first she was uncertain as to whether she was actually conscious again, or just in another nightmare. If this was consciousness, it was no better.

This was different, though; and she wondered if maybe this was neither consciousness nor a nightmare, but the Afterlife. Could she have died?

No . . . there was pain, and terror, and she could feel her heart pounding, though it's rhythm was erratic . . . these things weren't supposed to happen after death, but maybe they were memories . . . how could anyone know?

There was so much light, brighter than the sun, and the air smelled so bad, poisonous. She could taste it. She tried to move, but found that she couldn't even feel anything below the middle of her body, and the rest of her was so weak . . . everything was either numbness or pain, and her senses felt wrong, dizzy and distorted. She thought that her lower body was hidden behind some kind of raised sheet, but her left eye -- her good eye -- couldn't focus or track, giving just a milky blur. She couldn't feel her right arm, either, and she just felt so sick, through and through, and that stink in the air -- her stomach wanted to retch, and even that failed, and she lay shivering, cold, helpless -- terrified. Tears leaked out of her eyes, and she couldn't move enough to wipe them away.

There were strange noises, and figures moving, and their shapes were so awful and distorted that they had to be demons -- and they seemed so huge . . . but the figures were speaking to each other, and she remembered the voices she'd heard when she was in the box -- these were similar . . . but, maybe that was all part of this same experience; maybe she had died, and the box and all the rest were part of the same thing . . .

Some of their speech echoed back to her in her own language, but it didn't sound correct; some bizarre accent with no inflection -- doctor {unknown}, her {unknown} and {unknown} have failed . . .

She tried to speak, but her lips and tongue were dry and felt thick, like clay, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. One of the figures reached out a blue hand, holding a bottle with a thin nozzle on it. She felt water in her mouth, and gods, she was so thirsty, but she couldn't even swallow, and it ran out again. Even that slightest comfort failed.

She cried, but then found herself able to speak, some, slurring. "I'm sorry," she said, "I'm so sorry -- " Were her words being echoed in a different language? "I don't know what I did, but I'm sorry -- I never meant to do wrong . . . I've never been wicked . . . why am I here -- ?"

The creatures -- or gods, or demons -- were talking among themselves, and the echo came to her: she must think she's died --

One of them came close and spoke, and she got the echoed words more clearly. "You haven't died; you're still alive -- and none of this is your fault. I know, this is awful . . . we're very sorry -- you were in an accident, and we can't keep you alive much longer. We did everything we could to save your life, but it isn't enough; we just don't have what we need -- "

"Oh, gods," she said, and more tears poured forth. "I'm dying -- ?" Somewhere within her, her instinct told her it was true.

"Yes . . . it won't be long -- "

"Oh, gods -- my baby -- what about my baby -- ?"

"He'll live, and we'll take the best care of him -- but -- we need to ask you some questions. There are things he'll want to know, when he grows up -- "

"He -- it's a boy -- ?"

"Yes -- "

"Show him to me -- I want to see him -- "

"Not yet -- it will be just a few {minutes}{short times} -- these people are taking him out of your body now -- but please, can you tell us your name?"

"My name . . . my name is Snow-Flower . . . " She heard it echoed: Ketenn.

"That's good -- a pretty name -- and, what was your job -- your occupation -- ?"

"I'm just a basket-maker . . . "

"Are you or your family related to anyone of importance?"

"No . . . we just live near a little village . . . "

"Good . . . now, what about the boy's father? What's his name? What does he do?"

"My mate . . . Bright Water. " Petahkah. "He's -- a forester . . . carpenter . . . he's kind . . . gentle . . . "

"Good -- now, what do you call the world you live on -- ?"

She was starting to feel colder now, more numb, and tired -- so tired, but she wasn't shaking as much now . . . "Our world . . . is . . . Home . . . " Sayet.

Something was happening beyond the sheet; the creatures there were lifting something, a wet, moving thing, and then there was a slight gurgling sound and then a thin wail -- a newborn's voice.

"My baby -- "

"Be patient -- we'll show him to you in just a {minute}{short time}." The big creature looked somehow thoughtful, then said, "What do you want to name him?"

"Name . . . " Her thinking was becoming sluggish, along with her breathing and heartbeat. "Name . . . " She thought of his circumstances, and remembered a word used when pruning a limb from a tree. Her branch of the family line was cut off, her son cut out of her . . .

"Name . . . Removed . . . " The other voice echoed, Leeta. In the background, one of the creatures was talking about live birth . . .

Her eyes must have closed for a few breaths. Someone was speaking her name and placing something small and warm against her. She opened her eyes, and there was her son -- Petahkah's son -- moving next to her . . . he blinked cloudy blue eyes at her and made a soft little cry. She tried to touch him, but couldn't lift her hand. One of the big creatures gently took her hand and rested it on the baby.

Everything was getting thin and vague, but she struggled to see him clearly, focused her fading attention on him. She heard a voice speaking, and realized it was her own: "He's so beautiful . . . he looks just like his father . . . he should be here to see this . . . he'd be so proud . . . "

She wanted to lick her new son, to nurse him, to hold him, but she couldn't feel a thing anymore, could only see the blur from the tears in her eyes . . .

"Mother . . . "

The word took the air out of her lungs, and her body was unable to draw another breath, and then her vision faded to white as her ears filled with soft, high singing.

#

The nurse took the baby away, and Alfred pulled the sheet over the mother's body.
"Turn off the translator, please . . . death report . . . subject: female, species unknown, age unknown . . . name, Ketenn. Time of death, Friday, October thirteenth, 2152, 17:47 UT. Cause of death -- multiple organ failure, subsequent to lack of a suitable long-term blood substitute." He sniffed and cleared his throat. "End report. Inform all interested parties. I'm going home."

#

"We interrupt our regular programming for this special news update. Reporting live, from our studios in New Detroit, here is Raul Sanchez."

"Good morning. We've just received an official notice from the Griffin Institute that the mysterious alien discovered earlier this week has died. Now, we knew that her condition was critical, but the Institute has been reluctant to publish further information until now, pending the outcome of her treatment.

"The statement comes to us from Dr. Sandra Josephson, Hospital Administrator of the Griffin Institute's Department of Xenological Medicine, and reads as follows; quote:

" 'We deeply regret to announce that the alien who was delivered to us for care has died, through no fault of our own. She was presented with extensive injuries and serious blood loss from both open wounds and internal hemorrhaging, and although our surgical team stopped the bleeding, we had no suitable supply of blood to replace what she lost. She was given a blood substitute, but it is only suitable for short-term replacement. It could not take the place of real blood long enough for her to heal, and she had too much organ damage to survive. Her remains will be preserved in stasis, and will be returned by the Charter to her home world, as soon as it can be located.

" 'As was previously mentioned, she was pregnant, very near term by our best guess, and just before she died, her baby -- a boy -- was delivered by Cesarean section, and is in stable condition, and expected to thrive.

" 'Also, she was brought to consciousness just before her death, and was able to speak with us briefly by use of a translator that had been found at the crash site where she was discovered. She told us that her name was Ketenn, and that she'd been a basket-maker. She got to see and touch her baby before she died, and she gave him a name: Leeta. He remains under Institute care as a Charter Protectorate, pending further disposition.'


"End quote. That's all the information we have now concerning these aliens, but we're sure that the story of this little boy will be of great interest in the future, and we'll be there to cover the news as it happens. For Null-space Five News, I'm Raul Sanchez, and thanks for tuning in. We will now return you to our regularly scheduled broadcast."

#

The subsequent videoconference had fewer attendees; save for the admiral of the Terran Space Forces, the military weren't represented. David Chu was online from his office; otherwise, the in-person roster was the same as before. One of the screen segments showed an image of the baby in real time.

Goden's skin showed a pattern of dark brown and black, and her eyes were very dark. "The Charter is, of course, deeply regretful at the loss of this person's life. There is certainly no doubt now of these people's sentience, and we have now lost the opportunity to learn about a new culture.

"Worse, though, we now face a situation without precedent: an orphaned infant with no tangible connection to his own species. A number of issues will need to be settled, but first, I must enquire about his health. Alfred --?"

"Goden, we have confidence that the baby will thrive. We've successfully duplicated his mother's milk, and he's taken to it readily. Now, we're not certain, but we think he may be a little weak. It's possible that he's premature, and he may have been deprived of nutrients due to the blood substitute, but we expect any residual effects to wear off quickly, with no significant consequences."

Goden's skin lightened a couple of shades, rippling slightly. "Good. It is my hope that his condition improves. Physical health aside, though, even with the best of care, his position in life will certainly be a difficult one . . . his mental and emotional well-being are a topic of grave concern to the Charter. We must begin now to address the problem of how he's to be raised until his home world can be found. Comments?"

Raj spoke up. "Goden, Mr. Griffin has put me in charge of a team of genetic specialists, and we are working to decode his DNA, and that of his mother, with a view to extrapolating key factors of his physical development. To the extent that we can predict these, we can be ready in advance to help him, physically, at least . . . "

"Laudable. And wise, on your part, Mr. Griffin. But a healthy body must house a healthy mind, if any of our efforts are to be meaningful. So the question before us now is that of how he is to be raised. I do not expect us to refine details in this meeting; my hope is for us to agree on a simple structure of guiding principles for his care and upbringing.

"I think it would serve us well to keep in mind that, no matter what we do, he will suffer from alienation, at least once he matures enough to become self-aware."

Alfred raised a hand.

"Yes, Alfred -- ?"

"Goden, among the medical community here, we have as one of our guiding principles the simple dictum, 'First, do no harm' . . . "

Goden nodded. "An excellent point, Alfred. But how can we know what might harm him? We know next to nothing about his species . . . "

"We do know a little, and some of that is essential and important, beginning with his biological classification as a mammal. Looking at all known species of mammals, we can say with certainty that he'll need a mother. This can be a start toward constructing a family model, if you will . . . "

Pale waves of yellow moved across Goden's skin, and she paused thoughtfully. "The Charter concurs, Doctor. Very good."

Griffin then signaled for attention, and when Goden recognized him, he said, "I'm not expert at this, but I've spent time going over Ketenn's statements, just before she died . . . she mentioned the baby's father, by name, and said that he'd have been proud to see his son. This tells me that these people have strong pair-bonds between mates. I think that a father should also be part of the family model . . . "

Goden blinked, and her skin clouded for a moment. "We have a comment from another member -- "

A new segment of the screen lit with the image of a silver-furred alien. "Assumptions are dangerous, {sir}{mister} Griffin . . . we know of many cases in which mammalian offspring have no contact with their male parents -- "

Goden called for further comment, and another alien showed on the screen. "Only one such case is known among sentient mammals. I contend that your argument has little relevance. I also have read the transcript of Ketenn's statements, and noted her reference to the baby's father as her mate. This, to me, strengthens the argument for a family model having no less than two parents, at least one being male. I cannot envision harm coming from such an arrangement, even if it were not the norm for this species."

Griffin said, "Goden, I have a resource who may be able to bring us to a better understanding -- "

"Explain -- ?"

"One of the two people who first discovered Ketenn at the crash site -- Jeanne MacAllen. She's a linguistics professor here at the Institute, and she's been studying the content of the translator that was found there. Let me bring her in on this -- "

"Please, do . . . "

Griffin worked his keyboard, and presently Jeanne appeared in a new segment on the screen. "Good morning, sir -- my goodness -- "

"Good morning, Jeanne; sorry to interrupt, but I think you can help us here -- "

"I'll do my best -- " She bowed, and in Charter Formal, said, "Greetings, Honorables."

"Jeanne, we're discussing what kind of upbringing the baby should have, and right now we're in a debate about family structure. Has your study of their language given you any insight about that . . . ?"

"Hm . . . well -- the sample is quite small, and doesn't reveal a lot about their culture . . . still -- let me look again and filter the list -- family relationships . . . there are discreet terms for mother, father, son, daughter, sister, brother, and collective gender-neutral terms for parents and siblings. Then there are compound words for grandmother, grandfather, grandson, granddaughter, and what I think is a modifier used to generate terms for more distant generations -- great-grandparents, and so on. Also, compound equivalents for aunts and uncles, cousins, nephews, and nieces. Now, I'm also seeing contextual variations of the word 'house' that seem equivalent to 'family,' or perhaps 'tribe' or 'clan' -- I don't have enough on it, but my guess is that they're collective nouns for immediate family and extended family. Does that help -- ?"

"It does, but -- specifically, we're trying to determine if these people's families typically had a father present, and if there were more than one of each parent. We've already agreed on the presence of at least one mother."

"Oh -- that second part is indisputably 'one of each.' The Eesah always speak of their parents in the singular -- "

"Eesah -- ?"

"That's their name for their species, sir -- it means, 'people,' or 'person,' and the word is the same for singular, plural, and collective; gender-neutral. But, as to whether the male parents were present in the families . . . I can't point to anything direct or specific, but I'd say yes. The terms for male and female parents -- and ancestors -- are equally weighted; I don't see any gender bias in Eesah speech, as there is in a lot of human languages."

"That's excellent, Jeanne; thank you very much."

Goden's skin rippled slightly in yellow and green. She said, "I believe that point is settled, then. Griffin, I'm very pleased with this information, and it seems to me that {lady}{misses} MacAllen's presence could be of further benefit to our discussion. If no one objects, I wish to add her to the panel."

There were no objections, but Jeanne spoke up. "Sir, I was in the middle of a lecture class, but if you give me a few seconds, I can call my substitute -- "

"Go ahead."

Jeanne worked her keyboard, and it did take only a few seconds before she said, "Confirmed, sir; he's online now with the class and he has my lecture notes." She bowed again, and, switching to Charter Formal, said, "I'm deeply honored at this invitation."

Goden bowed in return. "Welcome, {lady}{misses} MacAllen. Seeing that you've joined us in progress, do you have any questions?"

"Well -- I hope it isn't too far off topic, but -- how were these language samples obtained -- ?"

The admiral of the Terran Space Forces said, "The alien mother -- Ketenn -- was brought here in a small military reconnaissance craft, so it's safe to assume that her abductors used the resources aboard that ship. Most likely spy-bugs; they'd send some out to park in areas like a marketplace, and they'd record conversation for a while and return to the ship. Then those recordings would be fed to the translator."

"I see. Thank you, sir. That was the only question I had for now."

Goden said, "Let us proceed, then. We're trying to establish some broad principles for raising this child to his best benefit. Having determined that he should have one mother and one father, can we discuss what species they should be?"

An alien panelist said, "It would seem to make sense that he be raised by a fur-covered species . . . based on the size of his mother, perhaps Har-Chen . . . "

"I don't think that makes particular sense," said another. "The prospective foster-parents should be warm-blooded, I think, but -- based on his mother, at least, his features would set him apart from every known species. And, as sad as this sounds, I think that the more similar he looks to his foster family, the more likely it is that he'd be seen as a genetic defect. And say that he was put with the Har-Chen . . . his mother was already taller than they are; if he grew even taller than her, he'd be too big to use their furniture, their tools, even their architecture or vehicles. In practical terms, then, he should be placed with people of comparable size as adults. We don't know that he won't grow to maturity before his home world can be found."

"Excellent points," Goden said. "Perhaps we should discuss the ramifications of moving him . . . "

Griffin said, "Off-world -- ?" He shook his head. "I can immediately think of two reasons not to. First, being born on Earth, he automatically has a right to Terran citizenship, and Can-American citizenship as well. Second, recall that I've offered lifetime free education for him; if he chooses to take full advantage of it and does grow to maturity here, that could amount to considerable expense."

Another alien spoke up: "Your second argument has little relevance, Griffin. Not to denigrate your commendable generosity, but you Earth-people are still a source of amazement among civilized species in the way you fund education. I will grant that there may be some merit in his having citizenship; his civil and political rights would be far more secure for that."

Jeanne said, "May I ask something -- ?"

Goden said, "Please do."

"I have some thoughts about the boy's potential problems with alienation, but I think my husband could address this better than I could -- he's a philosophy professor here -- "

"All help is welcome. Griffin -- ?"

"I'll have him on in a moment, Goden." Griffin made contact with Robbie and quickly briefed him before switching his image into a new segment of the screen.

Robbie bowed and gave a collective greeting, then said, "Well . . . there's no doubt the boy will know at some point that he's unique. It's an interesting problem; one I've been thinking about.

"The big danger, in my mind, is that he'd become an Eesah version of what we term a 'feral child.' Is this concept familiar to everyone -- ?"

There were a couple of negative responses, and Robbie continued. "On Earth, we think of a feral child as one who grew up in isolation from other humans, sometimes never learning a human language; never being socialized. The term 'feral' comes from myths and folk-tales of human children being raised by animals. The children in these folk-tales are said to use the vocalizations and behaviors of the animals that they allegedly grew up with.

"Also, though, we have documented cases of children who were kept in isolation through their early lives by their parents, sometimes never even spoken to. Now, some of these children were able to become socialized and live normal lives; many of the others were found to have been born with physical or mental defects that would have prevented their leading normal lives in any case.

"If Leeta is a normal and healthy example of his species -- perhaps Raj and his team will confirm that -- then he should be capable of becoming socialized once he's returned to his home world."

Goden asked, "What can we do to help him?"

"Expose him to as many other cultures as possible: other human cultures, and especially alien cultures. This would give him a set of cultural meta-skills; an ability to learn how to blend in and get along in unfamiliar settings -- make friends. Then, when he did get home, he could quickly adapt. And, of course, he should be taught his own language, what there is of it. Give him as broad an education as he can accept. Language is important, of course, but be sure to include non-linguistic communications training, such as art and music."

One of the other panelists said, "We have looked at the transcript of Ketenn's final words, and her answers to the questions she was asked . . . she stated her occupation as a basket-maker, and her mate's occupation as a woodworker, and said they lived near a small village. This, along with certain of the information from her medical scans, leads us to believe that her people had a primitive culture. Should he not, then, be taught skills suitable to a rural life?"

"Sure, teach him those things; just don't limit his education to primitive levels. You see, if we teach him to be -- for example, a metallurgist, and his people haven't risen above the level of blacksmithing, he'll still be able to be a blacksmith, but he'll also be able to advance the whole field of material sciences for them. But if we only teach him blacksmithing, and his people know advanced metallurgy, then he'll be at a disadvantage.

"We have to keep in mind that his parents' situation may not be the way of life everywhere on his world. We have people here, such as the Amish, who choose not to use advanced technology; their religion forbids it. We have no reason to assume that all Eesah are technologically backward. It may be that Ketenn was chosen for abduction largely because of her isolation." Robbie smiled, "Besides, any good philosopher will tell you that you can never know too much."

Mr. Griffin added, "I agree with that. And since I've volunteered to pay for it, he might as well get as much as we can give him."

Robbie said, "There's another benefit in letting him meet other off-worlders: I think he'd feel more comfortable knowing he wasn't the only non-human around."

Griffin said, "He'll have exposure to quite a few off-worlders here at the Institute, and if that isn't enough, we're only ten minutes from Detroit spaceport by air-car. And, while he's on campus, he'll be safe from the anti-alien groups."

Goden's skin rippled blue. "You're working hard to convince us to leave him in your care, Griffin . . . "

"That's because I want the best for him, Goden -- and I believe we can deliver it."

David Chu broke in. "I think there's another good reason to keep him here -- "

"Yes, Inspector -- ?"

"Whoever kidnapped Ketenn brought her here -- very close to where we are now. There is, or was, something or someone nearby that involved their plans for her, and it was important to them, or they wouldn't have taken the risk of bringing her to Earth.

"Leeta may have been a part of those plans, or he may have taken Ketenn's place in them. I think that the kidnappers will stay as long as he stays, and we'll have a much better chance of figuring out who they are, and bringing them down."

Goden said, "But, wouldn't that mean he'd be in more danger here -- ?"

David shook his head. "I don't believe he's in any danger from the kidnappers at all -- not yet, anyway. Call it -- a policeman's instinct, but I don't think they've got what they want yet."

Goden said, "I don't understand your instincts, Inspector Chu, but then, I don't understand the thinking of criminals, either. I've examined your history, and you've got a reputation for solving some difficult cases. The Charter trusts your judgement. Griffin, the boy will stay in your care."

Griffin bowed slightly. "Thank you, Goden."

"How will his foster parents be selected?"

Griffin said, "I suppose I'll have to start seeking volunteers -- and consulting lawyers."

"Very well. The Charter has other pressing business, but wishes to continue this discussion -- at the same hour, two days from now. Please include the MacAllens. Thank you all."

"Thank you, Goden."

#

Robbie and Jeanne resumed their regular teaching schedules, and, over dinner, they talked a lot about the day. They were both very excited about being invited to sit in on the talks with the Charter, but that wasn't the top issue on either of their minds. The conversation lulled, and they both looked at each other.

Jeanne said, "Do you think you might want to -- "

"Volunteer? For the position -- ?"

Jeanne lowered her head, a little nervous. "Do you think we'd have a chance to qualify -- ?"

Robbie smiled. "Dear! I can't think of anyone better suited! But maybe we should go see him in person first . . . "

She smiled at him. "Perfectly true." They both got up and proceeded to clear the table.

The Institute hospital wasn't far. They put their coats on and walked, Robbie carrying a large umbrella because the sky was busy with overcast, looking as though it might rain.

Getting past Reception was no problem -- getting to see the boy in person was. The two Charter Guardians hadn't gotten the latest word yet, and weren't taking chances. It took a call to the envoy ship first, and then one to Mr. Griffin's office, but Robbie and Jeanne were finally given clearance. Then they had to put on gowns and masks and scrub their hands.

Leeta had his own room, of course. There was a nurse present, wearing a headset, sitting in a comfortable chair and reading a book, and she looked up as they entered. It was very quiet. They exchanged nods with the nurse -- smiles not being too expressive in a face-mask -- and crept up to the crib, which had a bundle of wiring coming out from under its mattress and leading to a console. There was an unwired, empty crib close by.

The baby was asleep. Robbie and Jeanne leaned over and looked at him, and they held hands and whispered.

"Dear heavens, he looks so sweet," she said.

"Aye . . . "

The nurse came over and asked if they had any questions. Robbie said, "What's that thing next to him -- ?"

The thing was a rather soft-looking mass covered in artificial fur, with two small nipples on it near one end. The nurse whispered, "That just emulates the body of his mother a little bit. It makes a heartbeat-sound, and it's heated to his body temperature. It feeds him, too."

"Ah . . . very clever -- but . . . shouldn't he be diapered -- ?"

The nurse shook her head. "Diapers don't work well on long-furred species. They just trap the mess and smear it into his fur, and it makes cleanup a lot more difficult. See, we've got him on a disposable pad."

"Oh -- well, I hadn't thought of that . . . it's always good to learn things like that."

Jeanne said, "You put him in the other crib for cleanup, right?"

The nurse nodded.

Jeanne said, "May we touch him -- ?"

"Sure. Babies thrive on being touched. Just stroke him lightly, wherever you like."
Robbie asked, "That won't wake him up, will it -- ?"

"Probably not. He doesn't do much but sleep most of the time anyway; it won't hurt him."

Jeanne reached out and stroked the baby's body with a finger. "Oh my God -- he's so soft -- !" She rubbed his head, and touched his little ears and the side of his face.

The baby made a tiny sound and began to move, and blinked his eyes open. "Oops . . . now I've done it . . . " The baby waved his head around slowly, opened his mouth and made a tiny squeak. Jeanne looked at the nurse and said, "Is he all right -- ?"

The nurse nodded, and Jeanne turned to her husband and said, "Your turn -- "

Robbie reached in and rubbed the little creature. "Oh, my . . . he is soft . . . hello, there, little one . . . " He stroked the baby's body some more, and then the baby gripped his finger with its tiny hands and tried to chew or suckle it. "Ohh, you're a strong little laddie," he whispered, "but I don't have what you want . . . turn around, now . . . there you go . . . that's it, you found it. There, isn't that better?"

Robbie withdrew his hand as the baby found a nipple and began to feed, and they all just stood watching for a while.

Then the door opened softly behind them and Mr. Griffin padded in and said hello.
Robbie and Jeanne both said, "Good evening, sir."

He said, "Don't let me disturb you; I just thought I'd come by and see how the little guy's doing." He walked over and stood watching for a while, and presently the baby stopped feeding and began to slowly squirm around. Mr. Griffin reached in and stroked him for a moment and whispered, "How you doing, fella?" Then the baby grunted slightly and there was another sound: splorch. "Uh-oh . . . I think I scared the crap out of him . . . "

They all chuckled quietly and stepped out of the way as the nurse moved in to do the cleanup. Griffin looked at the MacAllens and said, "You two here to apply for another job?"

Robbie shrugged. "Looks that way . . . I think he likes me . . . " Jeanne nodded.

Griffin nodded, and they could see that he was grinning behind the mask; the corners of his eyes crinkled. "Good. That puts you at the head of the line. Be here in the morning for your first parenting class." He patted them both on the shoulders and turned quietly for the door.

#

The videoconference was in session again. Goden began by asking Alfred for any news on the baby's health.

"He seems to be doing well, Goden . . . our only concern at the time is that his native gut fauna are -- contending with the local species, and it's causing him some diarrhea. This is a problem routinely confronted by travelers, and there's really nothing we can do but wait and watch, and keep him hydrated. But he's feeding well, and gaining weight already, so once he gets past this, he should be fine."

Goden's skin rippled in bright yellow and blue waves. "This is very good news, Alfred. Griffin, is there any progress on finding a foster home for him?"

"Yes, Goden -- I'm happy to say that our two newest panelists have volunteered, and have begun training -- and they're as happy about it as I am. Now, I'm still looking for other volunteers, to have a back-up team available in case of emergency, but I haven't found any yet. It's still early, though."

"A very wise move on your part, Griffin. The Charter extends its thanks and best wishes to the MacAllens. How soon will the boy be ready to move to his new home?"

Alfred said, "I think a month, at the most, Goden . . . and the MacAllens live right next door to me, so that if Leeta should need any medical attention while I'm home, I can be there immediately."

"Very good -- and, upon Charter recommendation, I am directing that Leeta's Guardians be trained in species-appropriate first aid, as well."

Griffin nodded. "Good. They can learn it alongside the MacAllens."

"Preparedness is never wasted, and we're setting precedent here. Do you foresee any legal difficulties in establishing the MacAllens' status as foster-parents for the boy?"

Griffin shrugged. "I'm not a lawyer, but I'm sure the TFT will have something to say about it -- and his citizenship, as well . . . "

Goden's skin went dark red, with spiky black points. "Terra For Terrans can face public censure for their bigotry. The Charter stands unanimous."

The Terran Ambassador said, "They do have some political influence, Goden, but they can't rewrite the laws. They'll make ugly noises, the way they always do, but that's all."

The chief of the Terran Marshals said, "I can give them something else to think about by sending some people over to investigate them for Ketenn's kidnapping . . . "

David Chu said, "Wait . . . we may be in danger of becoming misdirected with them. The TFT continuously claims to want all non-native species off of Earth -- why, then, would they bring one here? It doesn't fit . . . and from what I know of them, they're remarkably true to their stated objective. They may try to harm Leeta, but they wouldn't have had anything to do with bringing another alien to this planet; there are plenty of off-worlders here for them to persecute already -- "

Goden said, "And we are in danger of straying from our own objectives. As touching the TFT, we only need ensure that they don't hinder Leeta's rights. See to that first."

Griffin said, "I think I know the best way to oppose the TFT . . . we can use their own tactics against them . . . "

"How is this, Griffin -- ?"

"Their arguments are always emotional, never rational. I know a public-relations firm which is expert at that. I can have them prepare a -- pro-Leeta PR campaign, if you will. It will be tasteful, and very effective. I think it would be best to have them start now, to be proactive."

"You propose to manipulate public opinion -- "

Mr. Griffin shrugged and smiled. "The winners write history, Goden."

Goden's skin color lightened. "Well . . . while the Charter is unanimous in its wish to limit the TFT's influence, it is divided on the use of such methods. Of course, you know that such activity cannot be funded or even openly approved by the Charter . . . "

"Understood, Goden. My idea; my money." His smile became wider. "And, my pleasure."

Wow. One way up; one way down.

Jay, thanks for the comments, and I do hope you post more. As to your "please keep working on this one!" -- count on it. This book is the only item on my Bucket List; I've been working on it for over five years, and it's over 221,000 words now, still needing quite a bit more to complete.

Tao, you gave the impression that you actually stopped reading after less than two whole sentences. I'm not sure why you seem confused; the SECOND word in the whole thing identifies Sammy (as NOT being an alien). Keep at it, though; it explains itself eventually (I hope -- we'll see). And thanks for your comment; the input and information is very valuable to me; I know now that I've confused one reader from the get-go.

As to First Contact with this species, that's never directly described, but I think there's enough inferred about it as the story progresses.

One thing I'll say here -- well, two things -- is that when I started this book, I set two rules for it: one was to keep it all on a linear timeline, with no flashbacks or other retrospectives, and the other was to have NO INFO-DUMPS. I used to do those myself, and learned to hate them. These rules are in place to keep me from writing things that I don't like.

This brings me to say that Tao's reaction causes me some consternation, as I was a little concerned that these first three chapters might be taken as extraneous backstory. At one time, I had considered adding an earlier chapter going back even further. This kind of thing is pointed out as one of the biggest mistakes many writers make, filling the first chapter with set-up (aka info-dump).

Anyway, thank you both, and keep up the commentary.

Oh, one more thing for whoever reads this -- without giving away who it is, just a yes or no answer -- did you have a clear idea of who the novel's main character is? When did you know this, or what gave it away?

Tao,
You've convinced me that you really did stop reading after the second line . . .
you wrote:

I am faced with this "random" conversation in a lab of men looking at aliens,

If you had read as much as the first three sentences, you know that they're in a spacecraft, not a lab. If you had read the whole first chapter, you'd know that there was only one alien with them.

Now, as to:

And I just thought of another thing: it's called an *alien*. But all "established" Alien races have *race names*.

If you consider the opening scene as First Contact, then of course they don't know what to call it, as Sammy demonstrates by saying, "Kinda cute for a -- whatever it is." That's near the end of the first paragraph, by the way. If you had gotten as far as the first few pages of the second chapter, you'd have read that (aside from those guys who brought it here) no one on Earth has ever seen one of these before. So this one isn't "established." (They use the term "unregistered.") We do learn the species name in the third chapter.

I know about prologues, and this story once had one. Now it doesn't.

I hope I don't offend you by saying this, Tao, but I can't trust your comments if you don't read the material.

Just a general note: the original manuscript had the word "TERRA" as a sort of master- or meta-chapter-header, and I've removed that, as I think it could mislead readers into thinking that the first chapter took place on Earth (it doesn't).

Jay_Hill wrote: THE “DICTATION” MECHANIC you use to open the novel – I really like this! It is what grabbed my attention in the first place. I think it works wonderfully. However, by the fourth paragraph of this – the one that starts with:

“Head … longish … uh, binocular vision…”

You may want to interject just a little more traditional description of her features, or switch things up to describe the ship a little, or maybe even say something about Sammy's features, etc. I wouldn’t abandon the “dictation” as that’s a great device. I’d just mix in a little bit more of the traditional scene-setting. This might address some of Tao’s comments… not sure.

Interesting thought, and I'll have a look at that. One of the major purposes of this first chapter is right there; it's to give a physical description of the alien characters. That's as close as I can stand to get to an info-dump.

MILITARY JARGON – I’m a former Marine (served during the 1st Gulf War) and I don’t know if you ever served, but you certainly captured the lingo and jargon very well. To me, military jargon only works when it’s authentic and I’ll say it again: you nailed it! It also works here as a nice touch to “ground” the story on the old terra firma. In other words, it’s a nice addition of something familiar to set beside the “unfamiliar” species that you’re introducing us to. Good stuff!

When I was about 15 years old, I was in the Civil Air Patrol for something like two meetings, and glad to get out before being traumatized by military discipline. Same reason I left the Boy Scouts; I'm a lousy follower. I guess I picked up the mannerisms from being around vets here and there. Glad to know I got it right.

On that topic, the line, "Ev'ry day, all the way -- I got two heartbeats!"
was originally
"Fuckin-A hamburger; I got two heartbeats!"

They both work, but I thought maybe someone would catch the new version. Let me know if you recognize it.

DIALOGUE – I’m just gonna say it… I’m jealous!!! The dialogue throughout – but especially when Sammy and Red talk after the accident – just rolls along so naturally. It just seems so real. I mean exactly like things I can hear any of my buddies saying in a similar set of circumstances. I struggle writing dialogue at times; so I’m gonna say it again. Great job with the dialogue! I’m jealous.

Thanks very much. I put a lot of work into it.

INTRODUCTION OF ROBBIE AND JEANNE – This was the first and only part in the first two chapters where I went “uh oh”. Their characters work for me, but the language you used right when you introduced them felt a little stiff. I like the notion of them being out under the stars, doing the deed. That’s a subtle touch of romance that says a lot without overselling it, but the actual phrasing in these few sentences seemed stiff. Again, not a major criticism, just a brief spot that gave me pause for a second is all.

Thanks . . . try to get more specific if you can. This work does have some rough spots in it, but that one didn't seem bad to me.

Thanks again.

Sorry, Tao, but expressing opinions about material you haven't read only makes you look bad. For example, that spacecraft: If you had read the entirety of the second chapter, you would know everything a reader needs to know about it, ever. Period. Anything further about it would only be extraneous and slow the story down.

You also would have had a better understanding of why the military wasn't first on the scene.

Read the whole thing, then comment.

Well enough; our preferences seem to be amazingly close to polar opposites in this regard. I was surprised at that, but it's worthwhile information.

What's funny is that I was afraid this opener wasn't moving quickly enough. See, all the writer's advice articles I see lately are preaching, "No backstory, start in the middle of some action (not necessarily violent), establish the conflict, etc., etc. -- " --and they all say you should get all this on the first page, and preferably in the first sentence. Those people wouldn't buy this book either, but for the opposite reason you wouldn't! I think that's all just a literary fad, anyway.

Thanks for keeping it civil.

Mark Edgemon wrote: I think the answer is in the balance.

One can capture the audience attention with a narrative, if it is balanced with scenery, character and action description with dialogue interwoven throughout. It is a tough balance for any writer, but once an author "finds" the perfect mixture, it is no longer difficult and they can write from then on naturally without giving it much thought.

Mark

I do use narrative in small blocks here and there, and my own feeling is that it can give the reader a change of pace, a sort of 'coffee break' from time to time. Balance is the thing, though, for sure; don't carry on with any one aspect of storytelling for too long at a time.

I find myself wanting more up front narrative/exposition, maybe a couple of paragraphs to set the scene for me. I'd like to know at least the up shot on the characters and what the setting looks like.

Odd thing; I've thought about that, and can't figure out a way to do it -- not gracefully, anyway. I've done some awfully tough revisions on this story, though, so if enough people ask for that, I might come up with a way. I asked for it, after all.

TaoPhoenix wrote:Try imagining the story starting from the Conference. (Begins with "Dr. Alfred Corey walked out of surgery in his scrubs and sneakers. The clock gave the time as 03:43 local, and on this night, he had mixed feelings about being on the early shift.").

See? There it all is! You have a big cast of characters, all in a conference, (plus the three we met a minute ago). But *even more crucially* the tip off of a "Terran Space Forces" and "Terran Ambassador" and "Chief of the Terran Marshalls" are *huge* clues that this is SciFi, and how it might be structured. FBI, Joint Chiefs of Staff, Canadian Armed Forces Council are all Earth institutions. So whatever Terra is, it must be some kind of "Friendly Liaison Planet".

Well, I see I completely threw you off with that comment about the word 'TERRA'. What I meant to convey was that the FIRST chapter took place off-Earth. The SECOND chapter (where you are now) IS on Earth. Sorry.

To me, that's the kind of info I like earlier - it gets to the heart of the matter. Yes, it misses a tiny bit of suspense, but I am far happier being grounded in the situation. Then that big lab exam can come later, with a few other lines re-worked, when it comes time to know about the creature in great detail.

Okay, this might not be so bad. The biggest problem I see right off with this is that the reader could get misdirected about who the main character really is. Of course, that was possible even as it was before.

Gotta let my brain cook on this, but it might be an improvement. It'll be a little tricky rearranging the furniture, so to speak, but I need to trim this thing anyway, and that would be good for about six pages worth. Thanks.

I'm in the early stages of working on it -- I do know that I want the physical description of the aliens in there someplace. I also want to get the MacAllens in somehow; they become important soon, but they only need a brief mention.

I'm working with paper notebooks for now. Don't want to risk overtaxing the computer; I'm five hours into a seven-hour download. Gonna give LyX a try.

TaoPhoenix wrote: I wanted to say that instead of a "teaser" that you save the MacAllens until they "actually become important". At least for me, I like sections of a novel to "do something", not leave endless "clues". I know, some people like the Clue style. It's how TV seasons are written. But there are just different ways of doing things.

There's a value in using clues; it keeps the reader curious. The MacAllens "actually become important" when they discover the alien, but I'm pretty certain that scene will be deleted, so now I'll have to contrive an introduction for them that explains that in a way that doesn't feel contrived.

Meanwhile find another reason (plot-wise) why that detailed alien inspection matters - maybe an autopsy for a murder/accident. For me that is more palatable after the earlier groundwork of "what world am I in".

I just wanted to give the reader a mental image of what they looked like. Yeah, that whole first chapter was largely a device just to get that done, but it also introduced an important -- VERY important aspect of the story's plot, that this alien was brought here illegally for some nefarious purpose. This also touches on your next comment.

Also I didn't like how fast that media story came out - it felt wrong because our Govt would have put a Quash order on the story with the Senior Editor/Publisher. (It's a huge reason why I have problems with the Roswell myth - an alien visit should be something "inescapable" like parking on the White House Lawn, or even worse, Independence Day. Not some dinky little 1 man pod thing.)

Re-read the deputy's quote about the "vultures" and "right to report." The world I'm writing is not the one we live in now. Your assumptions are getting in your way, but you have presented me with another problem about how to explain the difference.

Of course, I could always decide to not explain it at all . . .

Here, Tao, go buy one of these. Just the kind of stuff you want to read.

http://www.encyclopediacenter.com/World ... Mgod8VUAFw

Jay_Hill wrote:NEWSCAST REPORTER – Usually when people incorporate this type of imagery (e.g. the stock image of the babbling reporter in the background) it is overdone and can really be a put off in an otherwise good read. However, your usage of this element was very nice. Not too much, not over the top. Kept things real and established another connection with the real world. I liked it!!

I'm afraid this one is a little over the top, like the "bubble-headed bleach blonde" from the song "Dirty Laundry" (sorry about the earworm). In a previous version of the story, that character was more serious, but was given a physical description of having too much makeup and wearing a harlequin-patterned outfit in garish colors. The description is lacking here because I'm thinking of these broadcasts more as radio. Still, I want to change that scene, just a little. It might be as easy as removing that exclamation point.

CONCEPT OF HOAXED SPECIES in Goden’s speech – This is another – and by my count, the third official  – wow! moment for me in this story so far. The idea that a species could be hoaxed – as well as the “why would anyone do such a thing” that it suggests are all fabulous elements. I also loved the two paragraphs where you discuss the “82 chromosomes”, the “fauna” and “dyes”, all of that. Just a great bit of conceptualizing and writing in my opinion. Also, I know this is a sci fi piece, but the “mystery elements” you’ve incorporated are really helping it to hit on two different levels….

As to the hoax theory, people have been doing this for a while. Piltdown Man is a famous example. I think it's been used in SF before.

I did a few minutes' research for that “82 chromosomes”, and I chose a number that was unknown presently on Earth. If some reader asks me what "autosomal" means, I'll just have to refer them to Google. Sounds authoritative, though, doesn't it?

GODEN’S SPEECH – Just a little too long, and mainly just because there were no breaks in the intensity of it. Might be nice to let the narrator look around the room a little bit and describe what he sees. Helps to paint the scene and capture some of the audience’s reactions. You hinted at this a couple of times, but a little more “panning the camera around the room” – and again, just to break up the intensity of the speech – would be nice.

Do you mean her big rant at the end of the scene?

Yeah, that scene gets a little breathless, but I think the worst of it isn't Goden so much as the three big paragraphs of bloviating by the chief of the Terran Marshals. I can shorten some of that. Raj got a little long-winded, too. I can't think of a good way to interrupt Goden's rant at the end, but the rest of the scene is mostly dialog of reasonable lengths.

You hit on something that bothers me a little in that scene, that the narrator should be more obvious. I had intended for this to be more obviously from Alfred's POV. In a previous version, it was, and some of the personal aspect of the POV got lost in the rewrite.

OVERALL FLOW OF YOUR WRITING – Several years ago, the very first editor I really got to work with one-on-one stressed “flow” of the story above all else. He often asked if each line led the reader to the next. You’ve got several places where the flow of your story is absolutely excellent. However, that being said, there are a couple of spots – nothing too major, but a couple of places where the flow could be doctored up a little. It’s a silly thing, but that first editor of mine suggested reading the piece aloud as a means of helping resolve the issue.

I try to stay mindful of this; it's important to me. If you can be more specific, I'd appreciate that.

Again, I really like where you’re going with this story… and hopefully I’m sharing more encouragement here than “things to fix”.

Thanks very much.

Just thinking some more about

CONCEPT OF HOAXED SPECIES in Goden’s speech – This is another – and by my count, the third official  – wow! moment for me in this story so far. The idea that a species could be hoaxed – as well as the “why would anyone do such a thing” that it suggests are all fabulous elements.

I think the best motivation would be in having the chance to make an enormous mockery of a large group of stuffy academics, either just for the sheer fun of it or as a form of revenge.

Tao Phoenix wrote:

Also I didn't like how fast that media story came out - it felt wrong because our Govt would have put a Quash order on the story with the Senior Editor/Publisher. (It's a huge reason why I have problems with the Roswell myth - an alien visit should be something "inescapable" like parking on the White House Lawn, or even worse, Independence Day. Not some dinky little 1 man pod thing.)

Lester Curtis wrote:

Re-read the deputy's quote about the "vultures" and "right to report." The world I'm writing is not the one we live in now. Your assumptions are getting in your way, but you have presented me with another problem about how to explain the difference.

I recently read an article about plot, subplot, and subtext, among other things, and realized that Tao is being thrown off by lack of subtext in the story opener. I have this future universe built up in my head, and haven't introduced all the critical generalities of it yet. For example, Earth is still in the process of rebuilding from the aftermath of a plague which rendered its major cities uninhabitable, so you see place names like "New Detroit," "New Denver," etc., and an overall low usage of high tech.

Of course, I could always decide to not explain it at all . . ..

It seems that I've made that my default decision already . . . Trouble is, I don't know a way to put that stuff in without it screaming "Plot device!" at the reader. Gotta work on that.

Yeah . . . the second chapter introduces the Charter, which is mostly a trade organization. Oddly, I've never done a head-count of its members, but I think somewhere in the neighborhood of a dozen species, and these get introduced and described as becomes necessary, as I did with the main-character species, and as I did with Goden in the second chapter. I have species names and general descriptions for a handful of them.

Still, yeah, I have to figure out a way to introduce the background scenario. I was thinking of just throwing it in piece by piece here and there, but I'm afraid that would take too long. I might need a prologue after all. There are some socio-political changes that aren't real important, but could squink a reader or two.

Meantime, I just came back from the computer-stuff place with a new computer to replace my five-year-old iMac, and I have a bunch of work to make the changeover. Wish me luck, and don't be too scared if I drop out of sight for a day or two.

Okay, commentators, try this for an experiment. In lieu of a long, boring prologue, I present the following, which I discovered in some seldom-seen notes I've been making for the project as I went along. It's just a bare-bones timeline, without a whole lot in it (I did have some geopolitical stuff in there and then x'd it). It could probably use more tinkering.

Just pretend this is at the very top of the manuscript and see how you think it works. If it helps, print it all and look at the physical copy.

So. This becomes the new first chapter. Here goes.

***************************************************

2050s A.D.
* Manned missions to Luna and Mars by governments and private companies
* First successful asteroid mining accomplished by Griffin Reclamation and Mining Company

2060s A.D.
* Fusion power successful in large installations

2070s A.D.
* Fusion power facilitates modernization of undeveloped areas
* Tropics becoming uninhabitable
* Massive population shifts to previously uninhabited areas, e.g., Siberia

2080s A.D.
* Fusion power plants become portable
* Independent colonies on Luna and Mars
* Griffin Institute opens

2082 A.D.
* Discovery of artificial gravity

2085 A.D.
* Gravitic propulsion supplants chemical and ion drives in spacecraft

2103 A.D.
* Discovery of Null-space, allowing FTL drive and limited instantaneous communication

2107 A.D.
* First contact with extraterrestrial intelligent species
* Sociopolitical and religious upheaval

2109 A.D.
* Earth joins the Charter, an interstellar trade organization
* Formation of unified Terran government
* Climatic remediation measures initiated with Charter assistance

2123-2124 A.D.
* The Great Pandemic kills roughly one-fourth of Humans on Earth
* Earth quarantined
* Terran legal systems reduced to extreme libertarianism at all levels
* Widespread collapse of infrastructure
* Most cities abandoned

2125 A.D.
* Quarantine lifted
* Recovery and reconstruction begin

2152 A.D.
* Now.

That's a start! I'll suggest a small discussion about placing that as something other than "Chapter 1".

If you have an objection to this being the first chapter, please explain.

Granted, it doesn't look like a book chapter, but nothing says that it has to. (The Writer's Digest website has an irregular feature column titled, "There Are No Rules.") So, if I choose to use this, it would be placed in the book exactly where a reader would expect to find the first chapter: on page 1. The reader would read it first, and its content would go to work on their readerly brain at once, and in whatever way they chose. They would at least know some of what to expect from the rest of the story; if they chose to pause and ponder over it a while, they could speculate further ramifications on their own. But putting this up front is probably the most efficient way possible of setting the general subtext of the book, and that's the problem that needed solved. Is it a graceful solution? I'm not sure, but it removes the need to create artificial situations and/or contrived-sounding dialogs in order to introduce subtext.

Just a side note about that: The most recent issue of Analog magazine features a novella by Martin L. Shoemaker, titled "Murder on the Aldrin Express." The author certainly knows science, and does a wonderful job of using it, but he is very, VERY far from being a good writer. Analog's online readers' forum is down now, but when I see it working, I intend to write a post titled. "Murder on the Info-dump Express." In all my experience with that magazine, I believe this is the first time ever that I was unable to finish a story. It was that bad. He actually used the phrase, "as you know" in part of the dialog, and the rest of the first eleven pages were just as bad. That was all I could stand to read.

That is something I try very hard to avoid, but inserting backstory or subtext gracefully requires a lot of effort, and can use up a lot of extra pages. It even requires extraneous sub-plotting and formulating entire scenes to introduce information in a way that doesn't distract the reader's attention. This partly explains why I'm over 200,000 words and not close to finished with this book.

Anyway. Back to the above discussion, some writers include a map at the beginning of their book. Some of these are helpful; some aren't. C.J.Cherryh did it for her Chanur series, and I thought it was pretty much a wasted effort. Had she wanted to give the reader something really useful, it would have been a chart of the species' political relationships (not that that would have been any easier to diagram ). I think my little sketchy timeline would do more.

Onward.

Timelines are often well placed as an Appendix.

Were it meaningful, I'd find a big rock and chisel the following words into it: NO BOOK THAT I WRITE WILL EVER HAVE AN APPENDIX.***. The reason being that I want to write the kind of book that I would want to read, and I remember reading Frank Herbert's Dune and having to STOP READING periodically to go to the back and look up definitions and explanations. I fully intend my work to be entirely self-contained and self-explanatory to the greatest extent I can get it. If someone wants to come along and make up their own annotated version, I'll be happy to negotiate rights and royalties with them, but I won't help them do it.

*** Same goes for glossary, footnotes, or Wiki.

You know how hysterical that fragment is, right?

Oh, yeah. Lucky this is a forum post and not a book.

Maybe you got frustrated at Dune. For me the signature example of Appendixes was Lord of the Rings. I think it had some seven-ish appendixes because Tolkien had four generations of four families of four species in his head, and used them all as characters, threatening to hopelessly confuse the reader.

I never undertook that particular task. I started reading The Hobbit, and lost interest somewhere early on in it. I take it JRR drew up family trees for everyone, too? I know he invented at least one form of written language (very pretty). I've done both of those things for my story, but they aren't going into it. The script turned out to be a bit ungraceful, and the family tree was something any astute reader could do for themselves if they wanted to. I did the family tree just to keep the characters sorted out in my own head.

Oh, BTW -- I may also have a slight prejudice about appendices, just because mine -- the one in my body -- blew up and caused me considerable discomfort and inconvenience a few years ago.

But I'm satisfied for the exhibits to show up at the front too. Just my wee preference is not to call them "chapters".

Cool. I'll just call it "Page 1." But seriously, do you think it works well? Did I leave anything out?

I think SciFi has a deep subtle racial bias from starting in White America in 1930's that will take *another* fifty years to help unravel!

Sad to say, but I'm afraid you're right. I do it myself, without even being conscious of it. I ought to know better; for years I hung out quite a bit with a black friend (I once had the distinction of being the only white person in a ghetto bar). As much as I've seen of black culture, though, I still don't understand it.

And I'm writing about aliens . . .

Okay, here's something I'd like quick input on.

I revamped the introductory "list" to look a little different and all fit on one page. Tell me what you think.

TaoPhoenix wrote:That's getting there Lester!

Quick note - just change that last word from "Now" to something.

Have you got a suggestion? Anything else I can think of would be less precise and efficient and would sound stuffy in the bargain.

Lester Curtis wrote:

TaoPhoenix wrote:That's getting there Lester!

Quick note - just change that last word from "Now" to something.

Have you got a suggestion? Anything else I can think of would be less precise and efficient and would sound stuffy in the bargain.

Oh, and while you're at it, Tao -- WHY? What's wrong with 'NOW'?

TaoPhoenix wrote: Just leave the timeline as all dates. Then on a flip page for the story proper, you can just have the current date in big numerals.

Could you illustrate this with an example or something, just so I can understand it? It sounds as if you're asking me to remove all the data about events associated with the dates given in the Introduction. Please clarify, because, if that's what you're asking for, then there'd be no purpose in having the thing there at all. And, by the way, doing so would also erase all the subtext that you were feeling so lost without (and that other readers need as well; thanks again for bringing that to my attention).

I like future histories told in story segments. Each year has its context, so you could spin several stories per epoch. So your current story is whatever it is, then you can go back and do one on The Plague Years, etc.

I have plans for other stories in this universe, but they have very little to do with Earth at all. Any 'future history' in them will be a byproduct.

This current story is not about Earth either; it's the story of my main character. It spans about 23 Earth years, and only the first half of it happens on Earth anyway.

Naw, this is far simpler than all that! Your timeline works as a static exhibit you can use with all of your stories.

Well -- sorry, Tao, but -- no. It won't.

I only have vague ideas for two follow-on stories after this one, and they both take place way later than the present story ends, and neither of them involve Earth in a significant fashion. Therefor, the timeline as it is now is pretty much irrelevant to either of them, and they'd each need a whole new timeline of their own.

Nice idea, though, and a publisher would love it. I just didn't plan things that way. In my next life, or if I can go back and start this one over, I'll definitely consider that. In the meantime:

LESTER CURTIS' BUCKET LIST:
[begin list]

(1) Finish writing "Trade Route"

[end list]

TaoPhoenix wrote:Where did this end up?

Ah, now, THAT'S an interesting story -- and is becoming a whole different story.

A few months ago, I joined an online critique group (Yahoo groups; critical_writing) and began submitting portions of this -- the same stuff I have here. It was a pretty shocking experience; wish I'd done it a long time ago.

Without going into details, the message I kept getting in various forms was that the readers ('critters' -- critiquers) weren't getting enough personal stuff about Leeta to keep them interested; I kept hearing that there wasn't enough conflict. I tried cutting out some extraneous backstory, but that didn't fix the problem.

That, plus some other reading (the supplemental articles in The Positive Trait Thesaurus and The Negative Trait Thesaurus are dynamite!) led me to conclude that I needed to make life quite a bit harder for my main character. Seems I'd been shying away from the hard stuff, which is what the story needed.

I'm beginning a new rewrite of the story, largely from scratch, though I have a lot of stuff I can keep and use. This time, though, Leeta doesn't get a protected, high-tech-saturated upbringing, he doesn't have a magical cash-flow from a website, and he'll have much sharper conflicts with most of the other characters.

I'm very early in the process, doing handwritten notes, figuring out the generalities, but his internal and external struggles will be more -- interesting. He'll have to work his ass off to keep from running out of money, food, fuel, ship repairs, you name it, and he won't have rich or powerful friends when he needs them.

Be patient; it'll be a while before I have anything presentable to post.
***************************

Reference:

http://writershelpingwriters.net/

Find those thesuari there; I strongly recommend them (I have all three print versions).

Look into the Yahoo critical_writing group, too; it's private, so you have to sign up to see it. Also, it's free to join, but they make you work; you trade critiques with others there. They need new members. You'd best be brave, though; it's tough. Responses are usually VERY fast.