"Everywhere but on Psychon, I'll be an alien!" -Maya
"We're all aliens, until we get to know one another." -John Koenig

M-343 DAB 1600-1700: Eagle Flight

As the fragments of the destroyed planet of Psychon fanned out in all directions into space, a few survivors continued their flight away, in a small ship. There were four Terrans and a Psychon: the former with two less of their own returning from the planet; the latter devastated at the loss of her world, her father, and so much of her understanding of her father. They were now five Alphans.

Maya, Daughter of Mentor, had nothing of her former life but her memories, the clothes she was wearing, and some jewelry, one piece of which contained a few tiny fragments of Psychon technology. Commander John Koenig and Doctor Helena Russell had assured Maya she would have a new life on Moonbase Alpha, that she, though alien, would have a place there. Though she was not sure it would be as simple as that, it was enough to somewhat soothe her shattered self for now, to allow her to marshal some quiet strength, or at least to find a small bit of outward calm even as she still reeled inside.

Space around Eagle 4 reeled too. The initial destruction had created massive communication interference between the Eagle and Alpha, and had prevented Alpha from immediately finding the Eagle to aim the more powerful antenna the Eagle's way. Then they had found the Eagle's position, enough to point the directional communication dish directly towards the Eagle, and raise it. Brief contact did happen, almost entirely of a personal nature between Bill and Annette Fraser, husband and wife. Then contact had ceased as small, charged chunks of Psychon, traveling faster than the Eagle, caught up with it, forcing Captain Alan Carter and his co-pilot Bill Fraser to cut the main engines, turn the Eagle around, and deploy its forward defense screen, while they intensified scanners to watch for larger debris.

"We were still in the extended acceleration phase," Carter soon said. "Recalculate course."

Fraser ran the calculations, which took a little time, and replied, "If we're in this for awhile, it will lengthen our remaining flight to 14 hours from this point. Still well under the limit. That's if we don't have to spend a lot of time or fuel dodging larger pieces."

Fortunately, most of the small debris impacted the limited shield, and they avoided larger chunks by detecting them with scanners and using the small thrusters. A few of the tiniest particles, broken up by chunks hitting other chunks and creating directions of movement other than straight out from the former world, did start impacting the reinforced outer hull.

In the passenger cabin, the pings of debris did not go unnoticed. John immediately stepped forward to the pilot module, while Helena, though nervous herself, looked at Maya, and could see that what moment of partial peace Maya had, now seemed to evaporate from her haunted eyes. She gave Helena a stricken look, tinged with what looked like a little look of guilt -- then looked away, to the side of the ship nearest to her.

Psychon could cost these four Alphans their lives after all, Maya thought with helpless horror. They did nothing, suffered through horrors, escaped, yet could still die from--

"Maya, we'll be fine," Helena said. Helena saw Maya try to smile but fail, so Helena was going to step over to her, already realizing the Psychon woman seemed to take comfort in contact. Then, however, John called Helena's name, from the pilot module, so she stepped forward. To her relief, she found out there was nothing big detected -- yet -- and that they'd apparently still make it back to Alpha. Then she found out two had died on the Moonbase, in addition to the two Alphans on Psychon.

"Four total," she said quietly. "Any details? Other casualties?"

"No details," Alan said. "They barely started a status report when the interference began. We lost communication even before the debris reached us, like it was charged, but then the system itself went dead. I think we lost the communications array."

In the pod, Maya reeled as the meteoroids, which had once been part of her world, continued to hit the alien ship, in even higher frequency. She fled that thought, but into an even darker series. She had failed to find out what her father was doing to the various alien visitors who had suffered "rapport" with Psyche. Had failed until Commander Koenig had finally managed to break through to her and drive her to look for herself. If she had known before, years before.... If she had followed those little nagging questions better.... If she could have stopped him, before his descent into madness had destroyed him and so many other lives. If she had.... Her mind finally retreated from -- fled -- the pain and burning humiliation and shame. She could not face it, process it -- not now, not yet. She was left feeling helplessly dazed and confused.

John returned to the passenger module, wondering why his arm was starting to throb, but forgetting about it when he took in Maya's miserable expression as the pings against the hull continued. She looked up at him with a guilty expression again.

"Maya, we'll be fine," he said, stepping towards her more, Helena behind him. "Please don't blame yourself." It was all John could think of saying. Maya gave a faint flickering of gratitude at his words, the ever-so-slightest attempt at a smile, and then just put her hands in her hair, by her ears, lowering her head halfway to her knees, a very recognizable gesture of trying to shut out the sounds, and just wanting to be left alone for now. Helena drew John away from Maya, to give her some space. Helena's touch made his forearm throb in pain again.

Helena whispered, "She's in shock, John, and needs to gather her own strength just as desperately as she needs us to help provide her with new support."

John nodded, distracted by Helena's words. It seemed Maya was a woman yet had never been far-separated from her father. The two of them, notwithstanding the almost mindless guards (whatever they had actually been), had been alone for some length of time -- neither Alphan knew how long -- and he obviously had been isolating her even further in another way, from his increasingly deranged work. The last was probably a blessing in some ways, though it had ultimately torn them apart.

"Speaking of shock," he said quietly, lifting his arm, which was hurting more and more. Some blood dripped from the sleeve, and both noticed a few drops on the floor.

"John! Oh, get that jacket off." It did not take long to find a pair of small but deep puncture wounds on his forearm, near his wrist, neither bleeding much, but one a little more than the other. "What did this to you?" she demanded.

How will I explain this one? John thought, realizing exactly what -- who -- had caused the wounds.

Both, at the same moment, noticed Maya staring at them. Looking over, they saw an open-mouthed expression of horror on her face, turning quickly to guilt.

"I am so sorry, Commander."

Koenig quickly started some explanation, while trying to figure out how to introduce the rest. "Mentor was trapped behind a wall of fire, Maya was trying to throw herself into it to get to him, I was trying to hold her back, and she was fighting me."

"Oh.... But with what?" Helena asked, wanting to know the nature of the wound, as she hurriedly retrieved her medkit.

Koenig paused, wondering how to frame it, but Maya jumped in.

"My claws," she said, turning her eyes down.

Helena, returning with the kit, looked at the woman's fingers. "Fingernails couldn't have made punctures like these."

"I chose an inaccurate word. Talons."

Helena looked confused, then Maya too, the latter probably wondering why John had not quietly told Helena about Maya's ability while he had the chance a few minutes ago. Apparently, Maya did not have extra-acute hearing.

Talons? Helena thought, confused. She looked at Maya's face and then fingers, abruptly wondering if the Psychon's vaguely cat-like facial features somehow extended to retractable claws in her fingernails, but thinking that did not make much sense -- and Maya had just said 'talons' anyway. "I don't understand," Helena finally said as she got out the antiseptic, padded bandage, and sterile gauze. She left the field stitching box untouched, since the wounds were somewhat deep but not wide, best left open to drain and close on their own.

"I was a different form. A bird."

At first, it didn't click. The words made no sense. Then they sunk in -- sort of. Her head snapped over to look at the Psychon again. "What are you saying? That you can turn your physical form into a bird?"

"Yes, among other living beings."

Abruptly, a surge of adrenaline made her stomach knot, suddenly fully seeing again the alienness of the woman, feeling a brief surge of primal fear -- until Maya turned away, a look of shame returning to her features. Helena, though still stunned at this incredibly alien ability, relaxed a little. Maya was still Maya, the woman who had just helped them -- but more complicated now. She had once told herself, not long after Breakaway, to expect anything in space, to try to be as calm as possible about it. This was one of the cases that made it difficult.

"I am so sorry," Maya repeated. Whether she was referring to her ability or how she had used it, was not clear.

More than one form, she thought. Multi-form. Transformation. "You're a..." she paused, scrambling to assemble a word from other roots, "metamorph." She remembered Jarak and Rena, of course, but they had taken over Alphans at birth and death. They had not encountered an outright metamorph before. Yet Maya still looked almost human, yet not quite, so.... "This is your true form?"

"Yes, I can only transform for limited time'spans."

Finally, Helena caught herself, turning back to John to tend to his wounds.

John winced a little as Helena started cleaning the wound, but quickly suppressed any further reaction, since it only seemed to distress Maya further. Even though Helena had turned very professional, it probably wasn't helping her either.

"A bird, then? What kind?" Helena asked as she worked, plenty capable of multi-tasking, John knew -- not to mention well-practiced in her medical techniques.

"An utazeekor. I do not know if your people have a name for it."

"A hawk-like bird, maybe a kestrel," John supplied with an intentionally neutral tone.

"Doctor," Maya said in a near whisper. "I threw him against a wall too."

"What? As a bird? Or..."

"A sedotror."

"Like a large ape," Koenig again translated, adding, "Just some bruising, I think."

"And I may, as a dow'trapor, have bit him. I do not remember."

"Bit him?" Helena asked with a surprisingly calmer tone.

"German shepherd or something like it. But I don't think she did."

Helena looked at Maya, who wasn't looking at either of them anymore. Helena looked less startled with each admission, but more concerned about John, who said, "Don't blame her, Helena. She was just trying to get past me to save her father."

"If she had gotten past you?"

"She would have probably been caught in the collapse with Mentor."

"Well, that would have been tragic," Helena said firmly, something John was glad to hear her say after the strange revelations of the last couple of minutes.

Maya looked up at Helena briefly, not so much with a smile as an appreciative look, John thought, though it was hard to tell. Then Maya looked away again, and said, "And earlier, I was a... traskalador."

John sighed. He appreciated Maya's willingness to give full disclosure, but had hoped she would not bring that one up, though he had to admit he was curious why she had chosen it on her first meeting him.

John Koenig had already had enough of the psychotic planet. A green light rising from its surface to chase and swallow an Eagle. Mentor just bursting onto the Big Screen after Picard had declared it a dead planet. Mentor's invitation turning into a trap, with the alien's ship turning into a ball of light. Dragged into a volcano. Mentor still play-acting the consummate host. The horror scene in the caverns, complete with a zombie-like Torens and an agonized scream. An alien guard turned into rock. Mentor's image appearing. Picard vaporized. Yet another green light.

So when he was knocked unconscious and opened his fuzzy eyes to see a lioness watching him, and he regained his wits enough to decide it was real, he had backed up. Then with nowhere to go, he thought maybe Mentor was like some mad Roman emperor, and wondered what horrors he had in store for the rest, especially Helena -- and not wanting to know. Commander Koenig had rarely been one to think: now I've seen it all. Space had long since chased out what little of that remained. There was always yet one more surprise just around the corner. Still, it was quite startling and bewildering when the lioness was suddenly swallowed in fuzzy light which changed shape, stood up, and faded away to leave a young, attractive alien woman, obviously a Psychon, standing there and smiling like she had just played a practical joke on him.

What is it with this planet? Is nothing as it appears? He had approached her, but the open doorway had turned out to be an unpleasant force field. Sick of the "fun and games" of the Psychons, he immediately assumed Maya was nothing but more trouble. Fortunately, she had not been what she first appeared to be, either....

"Lioness," he translated for Helena.

"Oh my--"

"That wasn't from that fight, but when she... uh... was trying for a friendly greeting."

"Lioness? Friendly greeting?"

Maya was obviously able to interpret the statements and tones of both, for the look of horrified guilt came back to her face. "Oh, Commander, I apologize. It is a predator, isn't it?" At his simple nod, her head sagged. "I did not know. First my father's actions, then mine. We Psychons made horrible impressions. We did horrib--"

"No, you made a very powerfully-good impression in the end. You did something very selfless and right, as difficult as the end results were," He paused, to let that sink in, then asked, as gently as possible, "But why didn't you know about the lioness?" He wanted to understand Maya's poor introductory choice, and wanted Helena to understand too.

The Psychon took in a breath, and started explaining. "I don't really know an animal's... mind... as much as its... brain -- but not all of it. I cannot always fit much of my... consciousness into it. How much depends on its... capacity. There is something instinctive or instantly-learned for us, that parts of the animal brain dedicated to feeding and... other instincts... not needed for a limited time are... I replace with... reversion instincts, and if my consciousness is too... limited in that form, instructions I place so I can do something useful. So there are some things I do not understand, unless someone has a description of the animal or I've been in its form long enough to start understanding why some of its other... behaviors are the way they are."

It was a lot of strange -- alien -- information to try absorbing. It was obvious to John that Maya had never tried explaining her perception of metamorphosis to a non-Psychon before.

Helena said, "Okay, I can understand that. Well not entirely, but enough to accept you meant no harm."

Maya looked relieved -- for a moment. "How are you going to tell your people?" She had seen the mixed reactions here, and these had seen her other actions directly. How would the rest react?

"I do not know yet," the Commander said.

"You have to tell them -- and that I am Maya, Daughter of Mentor, because they will wonder who I am." When she paused but got no response other than the Commander and the Doctor looking at each other, she added, very quietly, "Or do you mean for me to not use my... metamorphic ability?"

"No, Maya, that is not what I mean," the Commander told her. "It could be helpful to all of us, and I imagine you feel it is part of you." She nodded, and he said, "Then please, keep in practice -- I assume it takes practice?"

"Practice. Yes, I am still in the process of exploring the ability and expanding my skills within it. Being able to turn into smaller creatures and larger creatures than now. Turning directly from one creature to another, without reverting, is something I have yet to master. Other aspects...."

"But...." he paused, obviously to think for a second, while the doctor continued tending to his wounds. "You did that -- one-to-another I mean."

"I was under great stress. It has otherwise eluded me so far, and will require more practice." She returned to her prior point. "What are you going to say?"

Finally, he said, "I think it would be wiser to wait, let them get to know you a little first."

"And then scare them?"

John thought again, but stuck to his first thought, telling her it would stay between the three of them, and that he would take responsibility for this decision. Maya looked at him dubiously. At least she is taking some interest in her future, he thought.

Finally, she nodded, and said quietly, "If you feel it is better. I am sorry to have been so... insistent. It is not my place anymore--"

"Maya, it is still your life; you have a right to give input. I will announce you, though, as Maya, Daughter of Mentor, and will explain what you did for us. We'll deal with that immediately." Yet as soon as he said it, he could see her nervous look. To hear it as a plan, to make it concrete, perhaps solidified her fears somewhat too. Yet, she swallowed and then nodded, ready to face it.

M-343 DAB 1900-1920: Slow Stand-Down

Tony Verdeschi, both the Security Officer and the First Officer of Moonbase Alpha, still in temporary command while Commander Koenig returned from the destroyed world of Psychon, gave yet another order, this one not as unpleasant as several -- especially one -- he had given recently.

"Activate the shield."

Sandra Benes, Data Analyst, a junior officer, and technically second in command at the moment, relayed the order to Weapons Section. Alpha's shielding system, sometimes known as "defensive screens" or more formally as the Bergman Shield, developed chiefly by the late, venerable Professor Victor Bergman, deployed again.

In the very relative lull between the initial casualty/damage reports after the end of the battle, and the hard recovery work that would follow, Psychon was taking its final shot at Moonbase Alpha, this time in the fortunately pathetic form of increasingly widely-spaced meteoric debris, all of it scanning as relatively small pieces, from the smallest size detectable up to some twenty meters -- at least in the first wave. Some of the larger pieces would probably survive the impact somewhat intact. Without the shields, such could have done damage to Alpha's various hulls; but at least the meteorites would not cut through the shield as Mentor's attacks had.

Tony could picture the alien's face vividly, especially two features: those crazy, doubled, beaded eyebrows; and even more so the arrogant smirk which had grown on his face with each of his fortunately few appearances on Alpha's monitors. The latter itself was somewhat of a security breach, since no one in Command Center had piped his face all over the base. The sick Psychon had evidently found it amusing -- and of no difficulty at all -- to appear on screens everywhere, as if to tease his prey. Either because of his interference or someone else's recopying the Big Screen feed, everyone had seen Psychon's destruction too.

Since then, he quickly issued a partial stand-down, from Red Alert to Yellow Alert, and had announced that an Eagle was returning but had not made contact. The subsequent too-short communication session with Eagle 4 troubled Verdeschi. He wondered if it was alien jamming. Who knows if there were any other Psychon installations elsewhere in the system, he had thought. No, he would keep the base on Yellow Alert status until they were somewhat more safely away, or John could provide his assessment of whether there was any further threat from more Psychons.

Sandra had continued contacting others on the base, until she found someone in science who hypothesized that the explosion of the planet could have heavily charged its remaining fragments, and that they had caught up with -- and been passing by -- the Eagle, were now between Alpha and Eagle 4, on their way to the base.

Thus Tony's order to raise the shield when they were directly detected as incoming debris -- wreckage of a wretched world, he thought absently in English, being very bilingual due to extensive time in both Italy and England.

The uncertainty of the hypothesis did not help Tony to relax much. Victor would have probably come up with something more quickly.

Tony had not worked directly with Victor much, but he respected what the wise professor had been to Alpha: a contact point for so many things scientific -- and philosophical. Tony had enough of a background in science himself to realize people like Archimedes, da Vinci, Einstein, Hawking, and Bergman were rare -- and that it was especially rare for someone to be brilliant or at least well versed in many specialties and not just one or a few. On top of everything else, Victor was a field scientist too, and even at his age, ready to take on some rough and tumble dangers, something most of Alpha's usually lab-bound scientists were not used to. Victor had been irreplaceable as Alpha's Science Advisor, and now they were forced to try to find a replacement.

Lew Picard had been the next closest thing to a general science integrator, and though he had some awfully big shoes to fill, had been calmly and quietly starting to fill out the role little by little, and was fairly quick to learn from other specialists.

A new position, Science Officer, was being developed, and would likely take over the roles of both Science Advisor and Technical Officer.

The latter role had been vacant since the death of David Kano, the Computer expert who had also managed the rest of the section. One of his last acts had been to start the modified Main Computer operating system which now graced Command Center and numerous other locations with a more monitor-based readouts -- a step up, albeit not a complete replacement for, the system of printing on simple strips of paper or cards. Previously, monitors had been used only for some simpler purposes, and the Alpha Information System could only be accessed at some consoles -- none of those in personal quarters except the officers'. Increasing the usefulness of all monitors and consoles, was a major step up, and a much-appreciated legacy of Kano.

After Kano's death, Picard had taken oversight of a few of Technical's departments, but was too inexperienced in management to take over the whole Technical Section, and oversight had been divided among the remaining officers, adding to their burden.

However, from what little extra information they had gotten from Eagle 4, he -- and Ray Torens -- had died on Psychon. Exactly how, Tony did not yet know; but given how long it would take the commander to return to base, it fell to Tony to break the news to Lew's sister, Leann, even though he would have almost nothing to say about how Lew had died. Tony clenched his teeth, not looking forward to telling her and others the news about Lew Picard and Ray Torens.

Besides the loss in general, it's another damn setback, he thought. The Science Officer role would take awhile to craft, as it had for Security Officer and especially First Officer. The Security Officer role had alleviated some pressure from Paul, while First Officer had replaced Paul's formal Controller role and some informal duties with a formalized second-in-command. Incorporating nearly a year's worth of "lesson's learned" and affecting that much procedural change was not an overnight decision. Losing so many people both hastened yet complicated such attempts. Lew had seemed the likely possibility for Science Officer -- or at least on the short list. The Psychons had just delayed or complicated that transition.

Tony stared at the spreading, nebula-like, central splotch which had once been much of Psychon, and felt the urge to smirk at it, as if to return Mentor's gesture to the Alphans right back to his whole world -- his rotting volcano of a world, now gone. Then he wiped the half-formed smirk from his face. It wasn't a charitable thought about a world he knew little. They had met a mix of aliens, and though on the whole not gracious towards Alpha, and some outright hostile, he had nothing against aliens per se, but had rather grown more wary -- and weary -- of them given past history. Though to varying degrees almost human or humanoid or not, they were sentient, and deserving of respect -- but had earned the increased degree of distrust Tony had for them. Despite backing off his smirk, and wishing they had simply left Alpha alone -- something few aliens seemed to care to do -- he still had no doubt Alpha was better off with Psychon gone.

But why had Psychon exploded? That was not information Eagle 4 had conveyed, and he leaned far back in his -- Koenig's -- seat, and stared at the nebula, puzzled.

It was going to gnaw at Tony until John returned, but Tony also needed a little recovery. He was even getting a surreptitious look from Sandra. The last thing he needed was a junior officer trying to tell him to get some sleep, so he decided to get it himself -- after he informed some individuals of the two deaths on Psychon.

M-343 DAB 1942-1943: Hollow Hyperspatial Ringing

If a star system could be said to ring like a bell in an empty room, Psychon's did.

The conversion of some of Psychon's mass into energy and sudden dispersion of the rest of the bulk of mass had created gravity waves, which had propagated outward.

Every star moves through normal space via "simple" gravity, yet the effects of such stellar mass were felt in hyperspace, the star in effect carving out some influence in hyperspace. Most objects leaving or coming into a star system were not affected by this; but some objects in the right range of masses would, when reaching the same "distance" in normal space that the star's hyperspatial buffer region ended, gather a bubble of hyperspace around themselves and start flitting at trans-light speeds.

It was a phenomenon the Alphans were aware of, but did not really understand. They called that edge where the bubble would form or collapse the Space-Normal Boundary of the star system. They knew it was not the best description of the phenomenon; but that had become the official term, though some simply referred to it as the "edge" of the star system. Bubbles, warps, a black sun, and other forces had propelled them about, and their movements within a star system were unusual but now predictable too -- most of the time.

The Moon was still well within the Space-Normal Boundary of Psychon's star, and the gravity waves from the destruction of Psychon had passed the Moon at light speed almost immediately -- at the same moment the Alphans had seen Psychon's destruction.

Now, those waves reached the Space-Normal Boundary, and had set the bubble around Psychon's star to metaphorically "ringing" briefly yet "loudly" -- one strong signal followed by a flurry of declining ones, lasting just over a minute. Not even the Moon's arrival in or departure from a star system's edge was strong enough to cause such a disturbance, but the destruction of a planet was.

M-343 DAB 1920-2100: Difficult Duty

After a couple quick stops, including for a cup of coffee as he thought about what to tell the closest relative and friends of Ray Torens and Lew Picard, Tony Verdeschi went to do just that. He had already had the new and unpleasant experience of notifying those closest to the two fatalities of Alpha, Roger Hayes and Jane Clemens, then announcing it to the base. Now he had two more deaths to give direct notice about. That duty fell to the commander or one in temporary command, the latter depending on timing. Verdeschi could have perhaps waited, but not with Koenig still being some time from arrival.

Ray and Lew each had a couple close friends, but neither had been married or involved at the time of their deaths. Lew, however, had a sister on base: Leann. He had already decided to talk to her first.

Leann of course took the loss of her brother hard, and looked both angry and in pain at the same time. Though not cursing the planet or Mentor or such, he could imagine that the only siblings to earn their way to concurrent -- if very different -- postings on Alpha, only months apart, would have felt a continued tight familial bond after Breakaway. Though some marriages and engagements had been severed by Breakaway, the two Picards were the only pre-Breakaway familial bond not severed by distance. George Osgood was not a relative to Patrick Osgood, who had married Michelle, so none of the three current Osgoods were blood relatives like the two Picards were.

Almost as if on cue, the brown-haired woman said, bitterly, "I suppose it was unfair to expect that we'd remain the only ones with a blood relative on base."

Beyond some basic command-level training Tony had received years ago, about dealing with difficult announcements, he was not a grief counselor, and followed the training by remaining silent or giving simple responses, unless there was an exceptionally ugly or troubling outburst. John Koenig, unfortunately, had a lot more experience in this area.

"How did he die?" she asked.

"We didn't really get any details. There was communications interference not long after we got the news." At her somewhat alarmed expression, he hastily added, "From the planet's debris." He didn't add that he was still concerned about possible other causes, such as other Psychons elsewhere in the system, and was half-expecting another Red Alert to start blaring at any moment.

Leann's expression changed back to bitterness. "So I have to wait to talk to the Commander about how the Psychons killed my brother."

Tony wasn't sure how to respond to that. He heard an "echo" of few of his own feelings about the aliens mixed in, though obviously not having suffered a loss such as hers. "I am sorry."

Her anger faded, and she instead sank onto the nearest seat.

"Did you find out if they're... bringing... his...."

"I'm not sure: the signal was cutting out."

"You're not sure, but...."

He relented. "Leann, I really am not sure; but no, from what we did catch, I don't think so."

"So probably can't even bring him back to what passes for a home -- gone with the alien planet that killed him."

The last was soft, almost defeated-sounding, rather than angry. Tony didn't try to say "sorry" again about this. What few more words were exchanged were mostly things he'd been taught to say, including a suggestion she could contact Dr. Mathias if she wished to talk. He offered his condolences again, and left to seek out those who were the closest to Lew and Ray.

He had already contacted the closest to Roger Hayes, and to Jane Clemens, some time before. In the latter case, it was a fiancé, and one of Tony's own personnel, on detachment from another section. That had been the least pleasant, for the man had always had something of a temper, and was none too kind in his assessment about aliens. "So, they finally cost me not one, but two people close to me. Damn murderers," was one of his somewhat tamer statements. As Tony went around informing a few more people directly of the latest tragic news, there were a couple curses against Psychon or Psychons, which Tony could understand, but also some numb reactions. Alpha had suffered so many deaths since Breakaway, and though networks of friendships had been spreading only slowly, Tony doubted there were many Alphans who had not been affected more closely by at least one death.

Having to privately inform those closest to four people, in a short period of time, was a difficult first taste for Tony of this ugly necessity, and he wasn't relishing that he also had to make the initial public announcement of all four. This too could not wait until the Commander returned, though he knew Koenig would still speak too upon his return. Tony returned to Command Center, and did his part, gently, briefly, yet respectfully. Tony was not a man for speeches, but yet found some words he hoped were fine.

After that duty was complete, he listened to Sandra's more detailed report, but found that she had provisionally handled some questions, and agreed with her responses and issued a couple more orders, all minor. She was a competent junior officer, but noticed she could be very reactive in stressful situations, especially after she had lost Paul.

He had to stifle a yawn. He was struggling with more fatigue than one cup of coffee could fight, and had not gotten the nap he had intended. He instructed Sandra to bring in another operative, and contact him if the slightest problem crept up. He felt a brief moment of guilt for taking the first sleep break, but she still looked relatively alert, and could go for another hour -- an officer needing to remain in CC while still on Yellow Alert. His first taste of actual command had been a hard, grinding, bitter experience, and sending that nuclear Eagle to destroy Psychon, his colleagues with it, even though unsuccessful, had taken more out of him than he had initially realized. He knew he'd bounce back, but for now, it wouldn't do for the relatively new first officer, in his first temporary command, to fall asleep in the command chair during Yellow Alert.

Other than shedding footwear, he immediately flopped in the nearest chair in his quarters, head leaning against a wall, not looking for the deep sleep of a bed, but to send a signal to his body he was seeking some light sleep, not realizing he was in effect asking for REM sleep.

End of the main threat or not, intending a light nap or not, Tony was soon dreaming of Mentor's face, not on a view screen, but directly in front of Tony, as they stood in Tony's Security office, face to face. Mentor's bizarre features were now even further twisted away from the smooth sliminess of his smirk, to a domineering sneer instead, laughing viciously in evil mirth, Tony trying to punch him out but failing, getting hit, until he finally delivered a hit right to the alien's face--

Tony awoke with a start, his breath a little ragged. His dreams were rarely violent, despite having had to deal with an increasing number of crises which sometimes involved violence as he rose through the ranks on Alpha. Mentor, however, had made such a strong, bruising impression on Tony's first major command situation, that it had gotten to his dreams, fast.

He stood up and decided that despite still having half of the hour he had allocated to himself, that he would rather take a quick shower, talk to Lena a bit, get some more coffee, then return to Command Center and relieve Sandra.

He kept expecting a call from CC, but it was not coming, and he began to wonder if maybe there weren't any Psychons left after all. Unless John had gotten some damn-fool idea to bring the violent lunatic Mentor or some other psycho back with him, he thought with a sudden lurch. He could just picture Helena convincing John to give Mentor some second chance or something. He was familiar with her intelligence and her curious combination of steely will and soft heart, the latter showing more and more recently -- though he had seen some of it too during his time stuck in the up-level Medical Center, just after Breakaway.

He had spent nearly a week in the MC after his severe injuries at Breakaway. It had taken him a few weeks of physical therapy before he had recovered enough to resume his duties. His professional life post-recovery, with Koenig in full command, had then proceeded to turn out much different than pre-Breakaway, with Gorski in command. Koenig had taken some interest in the high duty-performance marks Verdeschi kept receiving from Morrow, as well as Verdeschi's infrequently-advertised background. Koenig had started promoting him, first to squad leader, even if that meant little practical change in his duties other than some more electronic 'paperwork,' then to Security Officer when that position was created in part to take some burden off the Controller, and most recently to First Officer, when Paul had died and the Commander sought some partial reorganization on Alpha. So he knew John Koenig pretty well, and Helena Russell somewhat well too, and was more concerned about the latter than the former when it came to possibly bringing Mentor or another of the aliens back.

Tony believed in forgiveness, from those seeking it honestly, but was not quick to dole out forgiveness, for he also believed, both theoretically and from experience, direct or indirect, of aliens and other dangerous types, that if you had got an attacker "down," and there was every sign of their attacking if they got back "up," to keep them down. Tony had seen enough of that attitude, or something like it, in Commander Koenig, to realize the two of them were both survivors and pragmatists, even if John sometimes was still willing to extend more trust at times.

No, there are not any Psychons on board the Eagle, or the first words out of Alan's mouth would have been a warning to prepare the detention cell for a prisoner.

A different thought occurred suddenly, that maybe a Psychon was on board and had taken over, but Tony quickly dealt with it, knowing he would have seen subtle signs from Alan if he were in duress from a Psychon holding Alan hostage; or even more obviously, Bill would not have responded the expected way to the kiss Annette had blown over the commlink.

Tony relaxed again, confident in his conclusions.

As he walked to Botany to see if Lena Andreichi was there, he thought about her again. Earlier, he had called her in a brief moment after the major concerns were initially dealt with. He had wanted to make sure she was safe. Their relationship had gotten rocky recently, in a pattern all too familiar to Tony. Besides that, strains had also shown from lack of time spent together, especially after he took the additional role of First Officer. Then, she had started asking about former girlfriends. That was usually when his prior relationships had started faltering. So he tried to duck the questions, but they got more insistent over time, and had finally led to a blow out, not permanent he hoped, but not pretty. He had accused her of being too curious about things which no longer mattered -- well, more like accusing her of invading private matters long past. She had called him a "fool" -- which now had him having filled, at least once each, her trifecta of the three things it had become clear she did not care for: ill-timed interruptions, clowns, and fools.

From the start of their relationship, he had found her forthright, direct, and to-the-point nature very appealing; and their relationship had heated up quickly. He had learned how to deal with her pet peeve about interruptions, in part by making sure that if he did so for non-business reasons, that he always had something nice to say or give -- but mostly to avoid it.

Abruptly, Tony changed his course, to stop at a cafeteria. He could at least bring her a coffee. Black, of course. No-nonsense, like so much of her personality.

They talked briefly, cordially, resolving nothing, but agreeing they'd need to talk, sometime soon.

M-343 DAB 2100-2115: Grub

Maya looked at one of the walls of the Eagle space'ship she was inside. The ship had been totally alien when she first ran inside it, confused at the shapes and alien color scheme and blinking lights all around in the smoky haze. She had taken some steps inside, still coughing, head down, slowing when she didn't know where to go, then feeling the Alphan woman's hands on her upper arms, and looking back briefly at her and then following her lead onto a dark-colored seat. Now, with the haze long clear, the chaotic confusion gone to numb calm, she could grasp most of what she saw as simple things: seats, walls, computer panels, equipment, storage modules of some kind, a rack holding what she assumed were weapons, closets with pressure'clothing, a passage to the front section where the pilots must be, a door in back of her.

Lingering on thoughts of this alien ship reminded her of its outside. She realized with a start that as she and Commander Koenig had dashed towards it, the Commander half pulling her by her hand, as if he fearing she would give up and stop running, that it had been her last sight of Psychon itself, in its ruin, dying in blasts of fire even as the quaking ground threatened to throw her onto her knees. At least sixteen alien space'ships were scattered about -- yet another shock, realizing they had been ripped from space and freedom, and reminding her their people had been captured and turned into living husks by her own father.

Now the scene was coming back into her conscious mind again, a scene of some measure of horror in its own right. Empty husks of ships, with the life removed, diminished, slaving mindlessly, then extinguished -- paying the price for trying to revert Psychon from its ruinous form.

She tried to press the ships out of mind for now, and for a moment, she felt peace, then "saw" the Grove, heard her father's words in an out-of-order jumble, saw the flames, felt their heat again, like a nightmare in the day.

It was enough to bring her almost back to tears and sobs, when suddenly, there was movement in front of her gaze. She blinked, clearing her eyes, and saw one of the other people, evidently a pilot of Alphan space'ships. She thought his name was Alan -- or maybe Fraser. Some bits of memory were blurred together, which was disconcerting.

The Commander noticed them looking at each other, and took a few steps closer. "I don't think you two have been properly introduced. Alan, this is Maya. Maya, this Captain Alan Carter, Chief Pilot."

"Hello, Maya," he said with a smile.

"Hello," she echoed, then quickly tried to parse his even more complex title-plus-name into something resembling the apparent Alphan style, "Captain Carter Pilot."

He laughed for a moment but quickly said, "Oh no. Just call me Alan."

He was looking at her with just about the most honest, friendly smile she could imagine. She decided he really was trying to be cordial, and responded, "Hello, Alan."

"Alan participates in a lot of missions, and is responsible for the Eagles, Eagle bays, and Eagle maintenance," the Commander detailed.

"And training new pilots," Alan said with a smile again, "If you would be interested at some point."

Alan had tried, with only mild success, to cheer up the pretty alien who had saved their lives and sacrificed so much of hers in the process. He got some response, but knew not to expect a lot for awhile. She would need friends, and he found himself plenty willing to be one of hers.

So he finally just thanked Maya for her actions, as simply and briefly as he could, to which she had nodded but looked sad, before turning away.

The pings of debris had slowed and then stopped an hour earlier, and they had turned the Eagle nose forward again. They still couldn't raise Alpha, and Alan was all but certain the communications array was damaged.

His stomach began reminding him again of his hunger. Having not had a thing in some time but water and a little bit of Psychon's mildly bitter bars of orange food, even an MRE seemed like a great idea, so he went over to get one, then said, "As long as I'm looking for grub, who wants some?"

"Grub?" Maya asked, turning back with a curious expression, a sign of something other than her grim sadness. "Larval insects?"

Alan laughed. "Huh, a sense of humor?"

"I wasn't trying to be funny...."

"Well it was still a good joke, even if unintentional."

"Food," Helena finally supplied.

"Nah," Alan said, "the stuff on Alpha is maybe food. This is grub; but I'm hungry. Have some."

Alan could see Dr. Russell watching Maya's reaction, which was an almost immediate shake of her head. "You are kind; but no, I am not ready to eat," Maya said politely.

"Are you sure?" Alan asked. "It is not all that bad, and it really is not, uh, larval insects."

Maya managed a wan upturn of her lips, but shook her head and quietly turned away as Alan looked at Helena, who shrugged slightly and shook her head a little once, obviously indicating not to push it, though he saw Helena look at Maya thoughtfully.

Into the silence, the Commander said, "I'll relieve Fraser."

Alan nodded appreciatively, knowing Bill needed the break too.

Bill came back a minute later, and Helena carried out the formal introductions this time.

T-344 DAB 0200-0400: Lessons and Decisions

Both Alan and Bill had taken short breaks, Maya had been given a brief tour of Eagle 4 and a chance to wash up in the ship's basic facilities in the far back. She had emerged, less the sooty smudges on her face, but looking more tired. Dr. Russell advised the Psychon to try sleeping.

Both John and Helena had tried to get some sleep too; but it was only sporadic, and not helped much that the newest Alphan was having fitful bits of sleep interspersed with occasional muttering of words like: Mentor, Psyche, ina, or addawa.

When John fully opened his eyes again, he found Maya staring at a wall, not so blankly this time as mildly curious, looking about at all the unlabeled or tersely-labeled buttons and lights scattered about. So he decided to engage her in a little conversation, starting to show her a little bit about the computer systems in the pod of the Eagle. She showed immediate interest and asked some very intelligent questions.

"You like this sort of thing?" he then asked in a very casual tone.

"Oh, yes! Science and technology are so wonderfully interesting. I sort of annoyed Eralay sometimes when she wanted to teach history and I was still thinking about fusion, force fields, or the latest computer."

"Eralay? Your mother?"

"No, my first formal teacher...."

They continued talking, him getting more detail from her, until Helena stepped forward, clearly wanting to do some initial medical field tests on Maya.

John stepped away, thinking now. He could not believe his luck -- Alpha's luck. Maya hadn't just soaked up some doses of Psychon science and technology, but was apparently very much scientifically- and technically-oriented.

John was often philosophical, and something of a dreamer at times, but he was also very solidly a pragmatist. The surprise occurrence of suddenly having an alien, and apparently a technically adept one at that, soon to be living on Alpha, was a welcome development, the only silver lining of a tragic experience all around. She could be a helpful resource, and though Alphans had done a remarkable job, he wasn't about to let pride in that get in the way of accepting whatever contributions a Psychon could add to the extensive Terran ones.

That she seemed to be such a good-natured person too was definitely helpful, though he had no doubt there would be some difficult adjustments on both sides. Hopefully the lessons learned in the last war would help the Terrans avoid some mistakes with her, and she would be welcomed as a person. She deserved that, regardless of anything else. Yet hopefully the strength of will and character he had seen on Psychon would remain on Alpha. He saw hints it was there still; but under shells of shock, her strength would hopefully not be suffocated.

He would have to get some more details on her technical talents later, over the coming days; but it had already occurred to him before that if she did show signs of scientific and technical talents, that her having discussions with as many people in the Technical Section would be the best way to start finding out a little of how she might be able to help.

John stepped up to the pilot module, and found that both pilots seemed fatigued. He went back, and Helena had finished her brief initial tests and questions and moved away from Maya, whose eyes were closed again, trying to seek some more sleep. He signaled Helena over, then said quietly, "Helena, why don't we give both pilots a break."

"I was just going to suggest that."

They stepped forward, one at a time, to relieve the pilots, warning them Maya was trying to sleep.

John settled into the pilot seat first, then Helena into the co-pilot seat. Helena had trained some months before in Level 1 Eagle Flight, under the Officer Pilot Rule implemented a few months after Breakaway. She was working her way through Level 2 training on a sporadic basis. She settled in and checked a few readings, putting a little of her practice to use, and also closed the pilot module doors as well, while he tried again to raise Alpha, but with no luck.

"How are you holding up?" he asked her when she was settled in.

"Okay. I will have to work all of us up after all that happened -- and Bob check me, of course."

"What about Psyche?" he asked in his gentlest tone, indicating if she wanted to talk, she could, if she didn't now, that she didn't have to.

Her response was immediate. "Oh, God, John, that machine was horrible," she said, not hysterically, but as someone willing to talk to John specifically. "It was like something clawing at my brain, or my mind, or both, trying to get through the outer shell to get inside and tear my mind apart. For a brief moment, I thought I saw sadness in Mentor's eyes about what he was doing; but he should have been utterly repulsed by his own actions. How one man could have created and used Psyche that way, yet raised Maya at the same time, I don't know."

"He was a soul way beyond lost, yet not entirely."

Helena said nothing for a bit, then said, "No, more like a man with a divided heart or divided soul, one part falling far, yet one part staying firmly rooted and still raising his daughter right."

"Maya shouted to Mentor that Psyche had made him do evil. Maybe true in some sense, but I think his own desire to restore the planet ran so deep, so unchecked, he was corrupted and it became him and Psyche together descending to the depths they did."

"Maybe he was restoring the planet and keeping her safe from his darker side so that he could give the world to her, other Psychons, and their children, as they were, not as he had become. What would be the point in restoring the planet but destroying the very person he was doing it for in the end?"

John was surprised by this side of Helena, whenever he saw it. At times, she almost sounded a little like Victor. Even as Alphans were starting to come out of their still somewhat shell shocked states post-Breakaway, and signs of community were starting to spring up, at least according to some, the philosophical side seemed to be quietly spreading too. Maybe less at the forefront but running deeper, quieter, more widespread. It was a curious, almost contradictory shift.

He paused, then, the tangent having taken its course for now, returned to his original concern. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'll need that checkup, but yes, I think I am. It will probably give me nightmares for awhile, though."

"Just give me a call if you want to talk," John said.

Helena's smile was very warm, especially when she said, "You will be the first I call."

He returned her smile, thinking how beautiful she looked, and how glad he was she had made it. It had been years after Jean's death before he had started dating again, and he had only a few girlfriends since then, none that he felt more of a growing connection to then Helena. He sometimes made him wonder what Jean would have thought of Helena, but he had a feeling that 13 years later, Jean would have more likely have been kicking John for not having tried harder to find happiness again. Jean had been a romantic pragmatist, if there could be said to be such a thing.

His thoughts lingered on Jean, and mostly Helena, for awhile, but his own pragmatic side soon took over. There was still some thinking to do before they reached Alpha.

John was pretty certain Tony would be taking care of the death notices, including for Picard and Torens. There would be a memorial and funerals in about a week or less. He pushed that out of mind for the moment. It was too early to think about what he would say then. However, he would have to give a base-wide message soon after his return. It was a too-familiar pattern.

Then there was Maya, and how to introduce her. After he came up with some thoughts, his mind wandered away from the initial announcement phases to the "what next?" part.

It struck him that he could make her the Science Advisor. At first, it seemed the perfect role, at least temporarily, while everyone found out just how widespread her knowledge might be. Victor had been talented in many fields, and even after his death, and the creation of a new, as yet unfilled, role of Science Officer, the Science Advisor role was still being used for now, and it had been Lew's title. Of course, giving that title to Maya would likely provoke mixed reaction, but he saw no need to invent yet another new title just for her. Best just to deal with any issue head on. If Maya really did seem to have the technical aptitude, he'd probably just assign her the role, and hope she would just accept it.

DCS 7418,187;552-567: Tone Heard

Syric was rarely called by name anymore, not by anyone but his wife and closest relatives. Not since his ten-generations-grandfather had been brutally murdered a year before, and Syric had become Archon.

Psychon brainstems were hardy, and in combination with Dorcon bodies that themselves were hardy away from the brainstem, the combination conferred virtual immortality. Just how much was unknown, because the Archons who received such life ended up murdered after some point, even if it was centuries later. Even some key advisors or scientists who had been blessed with such also ended up vaporized at some point, or in some catastrophic accident or "accident" -- sometimes when they sought too much power for the Archon's liking, and sometimes if some more-mortal Dorcon grew jealous.

Syric's ancestor had lasted long, though, and where that ancestor's own predecessor had begun building the Federated Worlds of Dorcon into an empire, Syric's ancestor had grown it even further, into the strongest Empire in the galaxy. It was far from ruling all, but it was feared.

Now it was Syric's turn as Archon. He had already started a war to obtain yet another valuable technology, the meson converter, from a smaller power they had ran into during the expansion of the Dorcon Empire, and had refused to "federate" with the Dorcons.

Upon ascension, he had, of course, immediately ordered his Consul, a wise old man, to find a way of capturing a Psychon. That would not be so easy.

Dorcons and Psychons had been enemies going back to almost the earliest days after Dorca had expanded, re-absorbing colonies and joining with like-minded peoples into a strong federation.

They had run across ships of the unusual, metamorphic Psychons during that time. Kidnapping a few individuals and studying them, the Dorcons found the Psychon metamorphic ability could not be replicated, though it could be suppressed; but they stumbled across a curious finding that Psychon brainstems were remarkably hardy, perhaps to support metamorphosis in some way. With more kidnappings of Psychons, the Dorcons, masterful medical engineers, had come up with a process of supporting a transplant into select Dorcons. Molecular transformation had not been conferred, and some Dorcons speculated that higher brain functions and low-level, body-wide cell functions were also needed, and that the Psychon brain stem was perhaps hardier "only" because it was also forced to help interrupt and restore normal body function on either side of transformation, rather than directly aiding in the actual transformations themselves. Maybe that was also why those with such an implant, even when in a severe accident such as a powerful shock from which most Dorcons would not regain life signs, sometimes would. The brain stems were of aid to the recipients.

In the many centuries since that time, Psychons had been pursued and captured, to confer key people with what was found to be extremely long life.

Oddly, the Dorcons, while they could be ruthless, preferred bloodless battles over wholesale slaughter, though they were perfectly fine with the latter if necessary. Likewise, they found taking apart a living Psychon rather distasteful, and rather than killing what was left, kept it alive until the rest of its body aged and died -- not realizing this was an even greater conceptual horror to their victims.

The Dorcons, like any people, had cultural quirks, arguably none greater than what they did and thought regarding Psychons.

It hardly mattered, for Dorcons were feared by many, and that fear alone was often useful, and to be encouraged just as ruthlessly with propaganda as with the occasionally-needed actual war.

Yet recently, the Psychons, already technologically adept but pushed back to their own world by Dorcon predation away from the greater protection of their planet, and hit with other alien attacks, had started outpacing Dorcons technologically, building powerful shielding technologies and increasingly-exotic defensive weapons. For centuries, it got more difficult to catch them, and no Psychon at all had been captured for a few decades, though they now kept close to home.

Unfortunately, all attempts in earlier times to create a viable breeding population of captive Psychons had utterly failed, again perhaps because of their metamorphic ability, that maybe they had complete control over their reproductive ability.

Thus, on the biological front, Psychons had a partial defense; and on the technological front, they had been creating stronger defenses.

Meson converter technology, among other benefits obtaining it would bring, could make Psychons vulnerable again, and that alone was worth the price of the war with the Weyweq.

Curiously, there had been recent rumors among non-federated peoples that there were problems on Psychon. Most such rumors agreed that its surface was rapidly becoming volcanic. Attempts to investigate had been repelled by the Psychons, at high cost to both sides, more severe to the Dorcons despite the propaganda of a minor setback -- and no new Psychon prisoners. So the true status was unclear.

Thus, even the Imperial Archon of the Federated Worlds of Dorcon did not expect the news from his aged, trusted Consul.

"Archon, we have news that a weak hyperspatial disturbance was detected. The disturbance originated near the Aliarda, probably from the Psychon system."

"What kind of disturbance?"

"The kind suggested by a sudden burst of gravity waves striking a star's edge of influence in hyperspace. We think a planet -- possibly Psychon itself -- exploded."

"Survivors?"

"No way of knowing. We would have to dispatch an expedition."

"At once. Prepare Fleet 1 and the flagship for my departure, but send standard probes first." The Consul could have protested the Archon's safety, but Archons were not foolhardy, testing the situation first with probes, and then other warships if needed, before the flagship would appear.

The probes were of an aging series, soon be replaced by completely new types. Dorcon capital warships and the flagship had not outwardly changed much over the centuries, though. Besides their appearance being recognized and feared, itself a benefit just on its own, the original architects of the capital ships had designed with the idea that the technology inside of them could change often and radically as new ones were built, yet could -- and should -- still retain that outward form of deadly beauty and incredible power. Dorcons were master builders, and their main line of capital ships and some of the smaller ones had been so well designed that their outward appearance remained practically immortal, even as they were quietly replaced from time to time with newer models which appeared virtually identical. It was the smaller fighters and probes whose designs were changed frequently, for tactical and strategic reasons.

"It will be some tens of days before we get there," the Consul said.

T-344 DAB 0635-0645: Eagle's Arrival

"Two minutes to Alpha," Alan announced over Eagle 4's internal commsystem. It had been more hours, and was now after 06:30 Lunar Time. The journey had been almost exactly 15 hours since Psychon's destruction.

John saw Maya look at Alan's image, and kept staring at the monitor even after Alan's image disappeared, with what seemed like a slightly mixed expression. Probably getting more nervous, he thought as he turned and walked up to the pilot module just as Alpha came into clearer view, he looked at his base, battered again. God, I hate seeing Alpha looking like this. Alpha was their lifeboat, and every hit was another hole to repair or patch. It was almost always one step forward, one back -- this time so close on the heels of other setbacks. He pointed out the one lit pad, but Alan had already spotted it, and indicated he'd give a short, coded light signal for an initial docking before the Eagle should be pulled down to hangar. John returned to the passenger module.

In a short time, they were safely on a pad, and everyone stood up. The sound of the boarding tube docking with the Eagle startled Maya a bit. She was a little jumpy, and looked like she was pushing back exhaustion as well. Helena quietly explained the docking tube, as John noticed Bill emerge from the pilot module first, followed by Alan, who stepped up to the commander.

"I've given Bill a full day off -- excepting any debriefing you require, of course."

"No debriefing today. There is a lot to do. Get some rest too."

"I hear that; but first, I better stay with Eagle 4 down to the bay for an hour or two. She--"

"Of course," John said, knowing the Eagle was banged up and needed proper procedures and instructions on possible damage. Turn-around time on damaged or heavily-stressed Eagles was a drill Alan had come to emphasize, and live by, even though this time, Alan looked as if he'd rather go with the rest, or get some rest, despite his own words.

"I will require everyone get a post-mission medical exam," Dr. Russell said. "Probably some time later today. You will be contacted."

Alan and Bill nodded. Just as Alan turned to return to the pilot module, they heard Maya's Psychon-accented voice speak up timidly from where she had stood up but not moved from.

"Excuse my impertinence in interrupting, but please wait."

Everyone stopped and turned towards her. Alan, thinking Maya had been addressing him specifically, gently asked, "What is it?"

She turned to John, however. "Commander Koenig, I know there is much to apologize for--"

"Maya, no--"

"But the least I could do first is ask... if you could please accept my apology over my calling you a liar. I did not listen and kept--"

"But you did listen, you did--"

"After repeatedly accusing you of lying," she said more insistently, "in front of your people, when it was me who was so terribly wrong."

John was going to protest again, about to say 'you did not know'; but her stricken expression showed him she was desperate for the small comfort of an accepted apology over her own words. Right now, maybe this was all she was ready to deal with. He hoped he was not setting her up for more guilt rather than less, when he finally said, "Apology accepted, Maya. Think nothing more about it."

She seemed visibly relieved, and looked at the door, with an expression he could not read. He was about to say "Come," but remembering that was her word before she had guided him to his first face-to-face encounter with Mentor, instead chose "Let's go."

They all proceeded to leave the Eagle and enter the travel tube.

Maya looked around a little, puzzled to enter a small room, but deciding a few moments later it was a conveyance. She was not unfamiliar with the principle, for Psychon's cities, destroyed even before Psychon itself, had something with a similar purpose. As a child, she had found them to be a thrill. She took a seat in the alien version, and moments later, the conveyance started moving and accelerating. It even felt similar, of course; but instead of being like a thrill inside, it only seemed to tighten the tense knot in her stomach. They were approaching the first of the Alphans whom she had not directly helped.

The fact she had directly helped all of them, even if they had not seen it, did not occur to her. She only felt like she would immediately remind them first of the only other Psychon they knew, her mad and murderous father Mentor. She had repeatedly felt fear about this on the Eagle; but then, there had still been distance from the Alphan base. Now, she was on it, being whisked into the heart of the alien city. It was even more immediate. The Commander and Doctor had some earlier success soothing her on this point, but now, Maya did not know what the Commander could say to his people that would help.

Dr. Russell was relieved to get onto Travel Tube and call down to Medical Center. She turned the volume down, not wanting to upset Maya with casualty reports.

Dr. Bob Mathias answered. "We have one critical and two serious, one of whom was critical before I upgraded her overnight. Eight other casualties, but I released two of them already. All, including the most serious, are stable. We can do rounds whenever you are ready."

Helena was not surprised at the number of injuries, but was pleased to hear they were stable. She disconnected and sat down.

Helena knew Dr. Mathias had just given her a signal that he had things well under control until she was ready to return, giving her a chance to rest if she needed to.

It was her Medical Section, but even after decades of change in the world, some gradual and some sudden and difficult, there were simply some male doctors not used to being ordered by female doctors. Helena was used to having to push some weight, bring out a side of her some probably called "icy," and otherwise show that she could take and enforce authority as needed. By the time she had gotten the plum Alpha CMO posting, a prime role at the cutting edge, she had clearly demonstrated an array of talents, both medical and leadership. She had garnered enormous respect. She recalled how it had been no easy task establishing her authority on Alpha Moonbase's Medical Section, however. There had been problems with Helena's predecessor that had left a bad taste in Cmdr. Gorski's mouth and that had made for difficulties with Bob's predecessor, eventually forcing Helena to seek his replacement. Dr. Mathias, however, had always respected her and her authority.

Yet sometimes she felt cut off after Breakaway, both by her role and the sides of her personality she most needed to express to get to it. At Breakaway, she was one of only two female officers among several male officers. She had professional friendships on Alpha, but all her true friends were back on Earth. Breakaway had severed all her real friendships. Her husband had been lost for five years, officially presumed dead, and even Helena had given up hope of him being found.

John took in Maya's expression, which was rather hard to read at the moment, but noted it and how she sat with hands clenched together on her lap. She was looking around a little, without any appearance of curiosity and not making eye contact with anyone. She seemed somehow almost calm yet very nervous, maybe almost petrified. He tried to think of something to say, but just then, the travel tube started decelerating. Obviously not expecting the moment, Maya had to put out one hand to steady herself.

As soon as the vehicle had stopped, everyone stood up, Maya following suit silently. Bill, whom John had seen give Maya a reassuring smile earlier, now had only eyes for the door; and as soon as the doorway opened, he was first out of the tube, quickly turning to his left and disappearing from sight but not sound as there was a happy reunion with his wife. John had assured Annette Fraser that they would bring her husband back, and he was glad he they had managed to do just that.

John and Helena followed a couple of seconds later, John quickly giving a subtle, surreptitious "stand down" signal to the two on-duty guards, Bokessu and Giles. He quickly followed it up with the usual verbal "at ease," just as Maya followed him and Helena out, several steps behind.

Annette, still in Bill's arms, not kissing but looking towards the open door, saw the commander emerge. She was just starting to give him a look of gratitude for indeed bringing Bill back, when she spotted an unexpected blur of green, looked over, and gasped at the sight of an alien female. She had some facial features like a feminine version of Mentor. Mentor, who had haunted her thoughts since Bill's capture. It was like part of her nightmare had just walked right into Alpha, transformed yet the same, and Annette pulled away from Bill and backed up a step.

The alien turned to Annette, with what appeared to be an attempt to smile, which froze and vanished quickly after looking at Annette's face.

Commander Koenig looked ready to say something, but Bill jumped ahead, immediately taking up an introductory stance, calmly saying, "Annette, this is Maya. She helped us on Psychon," he said. "Maya, this is Annette Fraser, my wife."

Annette made no attempt to close any of the distance, but since Bill seemed relaxed about Maya and more concerned about Annie's feelings, she took a quiet breath, found a much calmer expression, albeit a tense half-smile, and said, "Hello."

"Hello," Maya repeated, with roughly equal expression and tone.

Bill noticed that Annie seemed anxious to leave, however, so as soon as John, Helena, and Maya turned and left the Reception area, Bill stepped towards Annie, took her hand reassuringly, and pulled her calmly away, walking side-by-side down the hall.

As soon as they were out of the others' earshot, Annie asked, "Is she real?" in an anxious whisper, then explained further. "I mean I was so scared for you when you were missing, and I despised Mentor so much from the first words I heard. It took me awhile to calm down a little, but then there was Directive 4, seeking to destroy--"

"Easy, both of us are okay now."

"Who is she?"

Bill paused, knowing this would floor Annie, but that he had to tell her up front. "Mentor's daughter."

She stopped in her tracks. "His daughter? Please tell me you are joking. Why would the commander bring Mentor's daughter back here?"

Bill felt -- hoped -- she simply did not realize what she had just said, and quietly said, "Maya helped us, and would have died there."

Annie opened her mouth, still looking angry for a moment, then closed it, her expression softening a little, saying, "No, I did not mean it that way. Is she really safe, though? Mentor lied, played tricks, broke his word, attacked us, killed...." She swallowed her words at that point, but before he could give a response, she managed to start adding, "What if she--"

"She did not know what her father was doing to us -- and when she realized, she freed us--"

"She let you go?"

"We were stuck in a prison cell, watching Alpha being attacked. You should have seen the humiliation and horror in her face when she realized what her father had been doing." He left out a lot of details about what Mentor had done, knowing now was definitely not the time, and that some details would probably be classified.

Annie was silent for a moment, and he realized she had clearly been rattled by everything, yet she was fast recovering, as he knew her to be. Thankfully, she did not ask for further details, and instead told him that she had some breakfast nearly ready in the room.

"You read my mind." After days on Eagle rations and an even worse nibble of a bar of some sort of bitter, slightly metallic-tasting Psychon food (colored just as orange as nearly everything else there), seeing Alpha attacked and fearing for Annie even more than himself, he was looking forward to sitting down to what would surely be a tasty meal, with his gorgeous wife.

Maya turned to follow behind the Commander and the Doctor. She had seen the fearful reaction of the Alphan female, and the large, two-handed weapons of the two Alphan guards. The latter had never raised one towards her, but one had been alert the whole time, and the other seemed somewhat more than just alert. As she walked down the wall, she could not help but tensing, half-fearing she was going to be shot in the back at any moment. She did not believe she would be, but did not dare look behind her, not wanting to provoke the guards in any way. Part of her thought that if most Alphans would want to shoot her for what her father had done, that they might as well get it over with; but most of her had trust in the Commander's word, the implication that most or all of the Alphans eventually would come to accept her.

Maya wanted the chance he gave her -- very badly wanted it. She wanted to live, to have at least a couple of friends, maybe more, to try to atone for what her father had done to these people -- a variety of reasons. Psychons were survivors.

Already, she had seen more curious sights: corridors in mostly light hues; the embrace of Bill and his wife; the two guards... one with light-colored skin like Maya's, but one with dark-colored skin like her cheek shading. She had not expected that. It seemed the Alphans were of at least two races, perhaps. She tried to recall aliens like that, but only knew it was uncommon. Most races in space were on different planets, sometimes warring with each other. That Alphans comprised at least two races already was a hopeful sign to Maya that perhaps they would come to accept her as another, even though she knew she might be partially or entirely different species instead.

They were heading towards a place called Command Center. She recalled her surprise when they had mentioned they were going to take her to what sounded like a key control center. She remembered them mentioning something about meeting a First Officer or Security Officer or some such title -- someone named Tony Verdeschi.

She wondered if Tony was the same man who, when Mentor was first communicating with Alpha, had briefly stepped into the filter'view she had been watching from out of sight, and in another form. After reverting, she could still remember what they looked like, and had responded to their near-Psychon appearance. Like the alien commander, that other man had looked attractive, even very attractive, for an alien -- but had also looked more than a little suspicious of her father. With good cause, she now realized.

T-344 DAB 0645-0700: Tony and Maya

Even as Eagle 4 settled onto its pad, after having given a brief and helpful visual signal, First Officer Tony Verdeschi dismissed a couple more operatives. It was still Yellow Alert, but it had been almost a day since Psychon's destruction, and no sign of alien activity, so he was continuing his gradual stand-down of Alpha. As he waited for the officers to return to Command Center, Sandra brought an update to his attention, so he walked over and talked with her, and was still doing so when the doors opened and he half-consciously heard what sounded like a few people enter. Thinking it might be the Commander, Tony finished the conversation quickly and turned, and started walking towards the two of them.

"John, Helena, welcome ba-- what the hell?" He now had clear view of a third person. Between and behind John and Helena, stood a woman unlike any he had ever seen. She was very striking but very alien, obviously Psychon -- the last thing he had wanted or really expected to see. Two thoughts jammed into his mind at once. Pretty. Prisoner? He immediately assumed she must have been captured on Psychon. But in Command Center, with no guards? His hand went for his sidearm, instinctively, but on picking up on a subtle stand-down signal from Commander Koenig, he did not pull the stun gun from its holster, though he kept his hand near it.

The alien woman had stopped only a step or two in front of the door, which had closed behind her. She closed her eyes briefly, as if she was thinking he was going to shoot her, then opened her eyes again and looked at him quietly, with a neutral expression on her face, mouth thin but not quivering, with eyes that were surprisingly pretty even with her unusual, upcurved eyebrows, so like Mentor's except for looking thinner, somehow very feminine. Her abundant reddish -- auburn? -- hair, done up in a bun held in place with long pins sticking out, curved to a point on her forehead. She had makeup or natural shading on her cheeks -- and maybe even on her ears too, though it was hard to tell from this angle. She was wearing a dress that was slinky, elegant, feathery, green and gray, and sexy on a surprisingly feminine body, slim yet shapely, graceful, fit, yet not necessarily overly strong.

He assessed her in barely more than a heartbeat, looking for any danger signs as his gaze returned to her face. His eyes locked with her eyes as he looked for any signs of a threatening reaction. Given what Psychons had just put all of Alpha through, he was not going to take a chance with this surprise survivor. She held his gaze, not defiantly, but just with the neutral expression, until she first put her hands together at waist level in a nervous gesture, then looked away, towards her right, seeming more than a little uncomfortable now about his stare.

It had barely been seconds since he had first seen her.

Maya had seen the Alphan male reach towards something at his belt, an object -- like a few in a rack on the Eagle -- she was now sure was a small weapon. She closed her eyes for a moment, thinking, please don't hurt me -- but she did not say it. Sure enough, it was the same man who had looked so suspicious about her father's "invitation" -- and he now clearly suspicious of her. If he was the first officer -- security officer? -- and really wanted to eventually shoot her, she probably wouldn't live for very long, as much as she still wanted to.

When she realized she was still standing, she opened her eyes almost immediately, and found he was still staring at her, first at her face, then looking over her body, then her face again. She looked at him as calmly as she could, especially when his eyes locked with hers, almost boring into her, until Maya, a little unnerved and unsure how to react to his stare, turned away.

Her eyes found those of an Alphan female, who was sitting at a computer console of some sort -- the room had a number of such consoles. The other woman had dark, very short hair, and was looking at Maya with what seemed like a friendlier look.

Maya tried to smile, but found it too difficult to do so. The woman nodded. Maya didn't know why. She looked around, and found a man and a woman at the back -- or was it the front? -- of the room, staying their distance, looking at Maya with expressions even harder to read given their moderate distance, but which together with them staying away, Maya read as probable wary distrust -- or fear. She turned her eyes back to Tony, hoping for a better reaction now.

When the alien woman broke eye contact, Tony looked at John and Helena, who were standing in front of the Psychon. They folded their arms in front of themselves, the Commander looking a little annoyed, apparently at the First Officer's reaction, while the Chief Medical Officer was half-smiling, her head turned a little towards Maya but looking at Tony, as if to say, 'be nice to her.'

So the Security Officer finally pulled his hand back a little from his weapon. The alien noticed, but did not otherwise react to it, and Tony finally said, "Who is she?"

John and Helena finally stepped apart from each other, with the former starting the introduction: "Tony, this is Maya, Daughter of Mentor. Maya, this--"

"Mentor's daughter?" he blurted. "What is she doing here?" he added without thinking, referring to an alien being brought straight to Command Center, but not realizing his words perhaps sounded more ominous, perhaps like, What is she doing on Alpha?

John looked more irritated now, as he said, "She helped us out. Maya saved us."

Tony listened to John's words, and nodded. Tony had considered several scenarios as the Eagle was on its long return flight from Psychon's remains, and had dismissed them all, only for one part of it to come to pass. Though John was vouching for her, and some of Tony's guard dropped as a result, part did not, and he did not fully relax. Still, Tony wasn't going to last long in Command Center if he didn't keep some measure of the diplomacy the Commander wanted. As hard as it was for him to apologize to someone he was suspicious of, he had to make some amends here.

As he said her name at the beginning of his apology, she turned towards him, looking directly at him again, and he thought he saw some of her nervousness vanish as he apologized. He stepped forward and extended his hand. She stepped towards him, looking steadily at him from under those strange, bumpy, elegant eyebrows, while the... were they some sort of feathers?... on her dress moved silently in the air.

Oddly, he took this moment to realize how her facial features were vaguely cat-like, her eyebrows reminding him a little of a lynx, and yet was wearing a feathery dress that made him imagine, for a moment, her lifting up her arms and looking like she had wings. Catbird, he thought absently....

She let him take her warm hand in his, though when he shook her hand a little, her eyes widened in surprise in a way he briefly thought was pretty -- to his own surprise. He stopped the shaking, gave her a little bit more of a smile in case she didn't understand what the 'shake' part of the handshake was about, and let her hand go.

She managed a small smile in return, did not step back, and then said, "Apology accepted... Tony. Think nothing more about it."

At least she has some manners, he thought. Then again, so had Mentor, in a way.

T-344 DAB 0645-0700: Lightly Toasted

Alan watched the walls of the landing pad lift "rise" up past his view, as the Eagle was brought down towards the safety of its roost, the hangar bay. He was still cut off from direct communication, but procedures made up for that lack, until the bay was pressurized and he could talk to the personnel, some of whom were from Technical Section, the Eagle-related departments of which he now temporarily led, in the absence of the late David Kano. The Eagle safe in its hangar, now pressurized, he stepped out.

He, meanwhile, immediately came down the steps and started a walk-around. He soon nodded, already finding the first signs of damage he had expected. The others also saw it as they got closer, of course. The scorch marks: not severe -- almost subtle, actually -- but still apparent from close up.

"Whew, looks like you got a little cooked," one tech said as he got close.

"Were you in one of those volcanoes?" another asked jokingly.

"Yes," Captain Carter said, grimly.

"What, you're serious?" the first replied.

"Yeah, an inactive one, until the end began."

"How did that happen anyway? Psychon blowing up?" the second asked. "The nuclear Eagle was intercepted."

"We had a little help."

"From what?" one asked.

"From whom?" another asked.

"I... reckon Commander Koenig will be explaining very soon. Let's get to work." Even before he had temporarily taken over part of Technical, whenever a technical team was seeing to Eagle work, they were his to give orders regarding immediate duties. What was gone for now was having to coordinate with the Technical Officer, though at least that had never been a problem for immediate post-mission work. "Check everything for stress damage before any separations are made -- and I mean all load-bearing and coupling points and main superstructures. We were caught in a magnetic vise at one point, then later shaken up by the planet's destruction. Also check the hull for all meteorite damage. I know we took some. There were no hull piercings of pressurized sections, but there may have been some elsewhere, and the comm array was likely damaged. I want the pings cataloged, regardless of severity, and correlated against lists of previous nicks."

"How much fuel is in the spine booster?"

"About 10% remains. We used 50% early on, then another 40% escaping Psychon's destruction, before the booster failed, cause unknown. Make it safe in place, but otherwise leave it be until the remaining assessments are made."

"Sir?" one of the military-side technicians asked.

"Yes?"

"We lost Eagle 1, right?"

Alan was pretty sure Tony would have announced fatalities by now; but no one discussed fatalities right in the hangar. That was for the funeral, or the wake, or for toasts in their memory at the Eagle Aerie club, or elsewhere. Even with civilians mixed in among the technicians and increasingly the pilots, everyone made sure this was clear. The pilots had suffered a lot of fatalities already, and the hangar was not the place to dwell. Now, it was just them wondering about lost ships.

"Yes, Eagle 1 was apparently damaged on its initial capture, and could not be repaired on site in the moments we had." He thought back for a moment....

He quickly suspected Mentor had done something to Eagle 1, for it refused ignition, the computer claiming a major component was missing. At first, Alan assumed that meant it was "merely" damaged in such a way that it read as if it were not there, rather than just non-functional. Then he wondered if it was literally true, that perhaps Mentor had done something to the ship. That worried him about Eagle 4 then -- for all of two seconds. He received a signal from Bill that Eagle 4 was active and ready to go, after which point, Alan was not so sure what was wrong with Eagle 1.

The quaking was worsening. Something catastrophic was happening to the planet, or at least this part of it. It was a good sign in one way, that John had probably been successful stopping Mentor and disabling or destroying Psyche; but a bad sign they could soon be in peril of destruction anyway. At least Alpha would be safe. He continued his efforts, wanting everyone off this planet -- hopefully with both Eagles in flight.

He tried every step he could think of, even as the inside of the volcano's walls started exploding more, sometimes briefly gouting fire onto the floor of the volcano. Alan still stayed with the Eagle a few more seconds, until his instincts told him time was running out and main motors probably weren't going to start.

Instead of slamming his fist down on a panel of the stubborn or simply broken Eagle, he had set his hand down on it gently for a moment, hating to abandon a beautiful machine which could have could have perhaps been saved with a little more time. He then quickly opened an internal panel, yanked out the portable memory bank, raced out of the pilot module, and as the outer door started opening, stuffed the three stun guns remaining on the weapons rack into jacket pockets -- the laser rifle was gone -- almost flew down the stairs and raced across the roiling surface of Psychon.

He had found Bill and Helena at the door of the Eagle 4, ready to run out and rescue Alan perhaps. Alan barely got up the stairs and inside the open door, when they all saw John and Maya running towards the Eagle, John holding Maya's hand, pulling her along. Alan knew then that Mentor had to be dead and the volcano or the planet was about to blow up around all of them. He quickly dropped the hardened memory bank onto the floor to close the door against a fireball, reopening it seconds later to help the two on board, Alan reaching for Maya and saying, "Here!" as John pushed her up the final two stairs, ahead of him. The last five sentient living beings left on Psychon were boarded on the only remaining working Eagle.

"We had to abandon it to its destruction on Psychon," he finished, leaving out everything else, but adding, "All I got was the memory core. It is sitting on the floor, just inside the door, unless it moved some as we were kicked about. Send it to Records for data dump, and have them reroute it to the component store."

"What a waste," one technician said simply.

"Damn Psychons," Alan thought he heard someone mutter to a third.

"More insane aliens," the third said quietly.

"Did I not give all of you enough work already?" Alan demanded on hearing the last two comments.

That brought a set of "sorry, sir" and "yes, sir" responses, so Alan left his reprimand at that and dismissed them to task, and they immediately went about it. Alan was a jovial, "just one of the guys" type -- when the work was getting done properly and everything else was in order. If something was amiss, Captain Carter was definitely military, and definitely in charge. This was something the civilians among his crew sometimes tripped over. Even with a mixed civilian/military team, the civilians under his temporary command during repair and maintenance, he went to military form, threatening to mete out punishment to the whole unit for the transgressions of part. This, of course, helped induce peer pressure within the unit, which usually solved the problem without needing to waste his time intervening further. It usually worked well.

At the moment, it was troubling to him that the "damn..." and "insane..." references were not to Mentor but to his people and aliens in general. They had been in interstellar space for too long, with men who knew they were likely never going home, and whom too many aliens had attacked. It was perhaps not a good sign for poor Maya, despite what she had done.

T-344 DAB 0700-0730: Difficult Speech

Sandra had seen Maya reacting nervously to Tony's intense stare, Maya's eyes turning away from his and finding Sandra's instead. She found the alien's gaze to be unthreatening, and when the Commander now signaled her forward, Sandra stood and did so willingly. She had already long before read John and Helena's body language as accepting of Maya, and had just heard his words to Tony. Sandra had no problem accepting that Maya was to be welcomed to Alpha.

She gave Maya a warm greeting, with a pleasant smile. Maya returned a tiny smile and a pleasant thank you.

She couldn't help but wonder what Paul would have thought of the alien woman and why she had ended up here. Paul had usually been calmer, and would have likely taken Maya in stride. Paul had not been the warmest man, nor the coldest, just reserved. Sandra missed his steady calm.

John felt pleased with Sandra's response, and now signaled the two operatives keeping their distance to step forward and greet Maya. Neither seemed so enthusiastic, but came forward. John let Helena carry out the introductions, while he took Tony aside, away from the rest.

"Tony, she will need someone to guide her around Alpha, and to see to her safety."

"Uh, okay; but I still object to you bringing an alien to Command Center. Shouldn't she be considered an unknown threat?"

"She is not a threat, and not an unknown in that way. I know what she did for us, and you'll hear me announce it to the rest of the base."

"Fine, but she could have been detained somewhere, like Medical, until I had a chance to assess her."

"You're not listening. She deserves gratitude, or tolerance and politeness at the very least, not detention or assessment as a security threat. I assured her she would have a place here." Almost as soon as John said it, he knew that would probably not go over well.

"John, I didn't think that place should have been here in Command Center."

John was getting tired of beating around the same subject. Tony had calmed somewhat, and John could see he was not going to attack Maya, but was still protesting. So John decided to be blunt. "Fine," the commander said, "your objection is duly noted. Are you going to see to her safety, or not?" he said very quietly yet firmly.

That stung Tony a little, especially so soon after he had set Sandra back in her place regarding the awful necessity at the time of Directive 4, the decision to bomb Psychon with John, Helena, Alan, and others still there. His thoughts turned defensive. Sandra let her emotions run away with her, again, offering up desperate-sounding suggestions which made no operational sense. Mine are calm objections over simple safety and caution. He took a breath. "Of course I will see to her safety. I never meant otherwise."

"Good. Now give me a summary of casualties and damage."

"Attention all sections Alpha. This is Commander Koenig." He paused, then continued. "Once again, as you know, we have been hit by tragedy. The official fatality count stands at four: Ray Torens, Lew Picard, Roger Hayes, and Jane Clemens. There were eleven other casualties, including two serious and one critical. Some have already been released, and probably a few more in the next few hours. A full, updated list will be posted shortly. Events were difficult here and for us on Psychon, but we have gotten through it, and as on some previous occasions, for some unexpected reasons. This time, we actually have a new friend to thank, and I wish to introduce her."

He signaled Maya, who had been losing some of her fragile composure, but now managed to put on a brave face -- which was perhaps the best thing she could have done -- to step into the camera's view. She did so, giving the rest of Alpha its first view of a second Psychon.

"This is Maya, Daughter of Mentor." This time, he did not pause, not wanting the sight of her face or the sound of her extended name to sink in too far before he got to the rest. "I know what your reaction almost certainly is; but I want to make it immediately clear that Maya in no way participated in Mentor's attacks on us here or at Psychon -- nor did she have knowledge of them. She was surprised by our accusations, but we convinced her to check out our story, and when she did, she immediately released all of us, and assisted me in trying to stop her father's actions. I destroyed the technology Mentor was using for his attacks, but the freed energy redirected against Psychon itself, leading to its destruction. Mentor refused to leave, but asked me to take Maya to safety. I am officially welcoming Maya to Moonbase Alpha, not as a guest, but rather as a new member of our crew and community. Please do your best to make her feel at home. Everyone will eventually get a chance to meet her over time."

He motioned with his hand that she could step out of the frame, which she promptly did. He continued.

"A memorial service and funerals will all be arranged at an appropriate time, and we hope and pray for the recovery of everyone else. It has been a turbulent and tragic few days, and recovery will be difficult; but as always, I have every confidence in the strength of the people of Alpha." He paused again briefly, then concluded, "That is all."

Sandra broke the connection, and though the commander did not outwardly sigh, the weight of command never felt heavier than at this moments.

Still, there was a little more to do. "Helena, why don't you and Tony escort Maya to Medical Center to rest for awhile?" He left it vague, for Helena to decide on whatever she saw fit for rest and tests. "Maybe before that, uh, for all of you to swing by Stores to arrange for some clothing, plain sleeve for now. Sandra, I will talk to you later about other arrangements."

Tony, Helena, and Maya left, Tony taking up position on Maya's right and Helena on Maya's left as they escorted her from Command Center -- analogous to how John and Helena had escorted her to Command Center.

As he wandered over to take his seat, the commander took stock of Sandra being the only other officer here. Tony and Helena had just left; Alan was at the Eagle hangar. The ranks of senior officers were thin -- junior officers even thinner: one, namely Sandra.

He started discussing base status in more detail with Benes. Verdeschi had ordered the Engineering department to assess the damage, and they had reported back that it was like nothing they had seen before. When Sandra conveyed their hypothesis about the nature of the damage, she said it with incredulity in her voice. Yet their idea was actually not far from the truth. John would have to talk with Chief Architect Karedepoulos himself.

"Commander? Tony lowered us from Red Alert to Yellow Alert, on which we remain." So concerned had John been about Maya in Tony's hands, that both had forgotten the security brief.

"His reason for staying at Yellow?" Koenig asked, already having a good idea, but wanting to make sure he didn't overlook some other concern of Verdeschi.

"Potential for further attacks by any Psychons remaining elsewhere in the system."

He considered it for barely half a second. The time elapsed since Psychon's destruction, some of the implications of Mentor's words beforehand, his plea for John to save Maya, her heart-breaking "Everywhere but on Psychon, I'll be an alien!" words, and lack of a plea afterwards to contact other Psychons. His thought process was quick but thorough.... "I am certain Mentor and Maya were the only Psychons who were still resident. Terminate Yellow Alert and begin or continue returning to normal patterns."

They discussed the damage at the Eagle pad, and a few more things. It was a wearying list, yet in many ways shorter than it could have been. Finally, John proceeded to assign Sandra the task of finding Maya appropriate quarters. "Single quarters, new standard. Find her a friendly spot. Coordinate with Tony in whatever way makes the most sense to both of you."

John could see the question on her face, like, How will I know a 'friendly spot' before she has met anyone? She said nothing though, and nodded. Sandra, as quiet as she often was, more so nowadays, had one of the stronger grasps of anyone on all the personnel on the base. It had been part of her pre-Breakaway duties, but various post-Breakaway steps had prompted her to get to know everyone better. If anyone could look at maps of names and find a likely spot for Maya to settle at, it was Sandra. Tony had a similarly strong grasp, but for other reasons, mostly Security-oriented. Right now, having Sandra thinking up the place and Tony reviewing it, made more sense than having Tony pick and Sandra likely no say.

He then left Command Center. It was time to visit the casualties recovering in Medical Center, then to start surveying the damage and talking to the engineering and repair crews -- as soon as he made a quick visit to quarters to change.

It was going to be another long day. It had already been a long day.

T-344 DAB 0700-0745: The Nuclear Tailor

It was early in the morning, when Janina "Joan" Conway, PhD physicist, supervisor of Nuclear Generating Area Two, researcher with her own lab -- and Alpha's lead tailor -- woke up.

Every morning she awoke, she sooner or later thought of the irony of her strange combination of roles on Moonbase Alpha -- but not this morning. She woke up sick, feeling the vacuum caused by the loss of her best friend, Jane Clemens, at the distant hands of the Psychons, who had attacked the base with some mysterious weapon.

Though the base had still been on Yellow Alert last night, the first officer had released most people from immediate duty, and Janina eventually had to get some sleep, despite the previous chaos. Chaos it had been: nearly having to shut down her reactor after the Psychon attack shook the base, dealing with various small alerts from the system, advising another Nuclear Generating Area, taking in the horrifying news of her lost friend, and trying to comfort Jane's fiancé even as she felt her own pain.

Washing her face right away after awakening, the pain was vivid and felt almost as immediate, and when she looked up, Janina saw it reflected in the mirror's image of her face. She looked away, not wanting to see that pain in her own face, since she was already feeling it badly enough.

Still, a sense of duty took over. She walked back to check her electronic memos and posts. Blear-eyed, she paused on seeing her name on the main screen:

logged in: Joan Conway

She had been called Joan Conway so long by so many she sometimes had to say "Janina" aloud to herself just to hear it again. No one had called her that since Breakaway.

Her father, a British national, worked so frequently in Poland he had fallen in love with a woman there, eventually took up residence, dual citizenship, and married. Janina had been the second child -- and last after Janina's very difficult birth nearly left her mother dead and prompted strongly-worded medical advice that she not have another. This had been followed less than a year later by the death of their first child, Janina's brother, at age seven, after he ran into the street chasing a football and was struck by a speeding automobile. Janina had no memories of him except the pictures she was shown and the stories she heard when she was old enough to understand. Somehow, her parents had avoided lingering too long under the cloud, yet had also resisted the urge to spoil their only remaining child. They gave their energies, but despite her father's good means, they didn't heap gifts of monetary things on Janina -- though they had given her some wonderful presents over the years. It was the gift of their time, energy, good parenting, and love that she eventually realized had been their best.

All along, she was called by three names so equally often: her mother affectionately nicknamed her "Janka" and her father similarly called her "Joan" -- both variants of Janina -- while most of her other relatives and friends in Poland called her Janina. She was accustomed to all three, equally. Her maternal grandmother, a woman with the sole farming roots in the extended living family, also called her Janka, and had spent a lot of time teaching her how to make clothing, despite Janina only having mild interest in it. Her mother, despite the same lessons earlier in her life, saw it as unnecessary given how easily it could be bought in the stores since the Iron Curtain had fallen in the early 1980's from a weakening Soviet Union. Yet Janina's grandmother had insisted anyway, and Janina had reluctantly but carefully listened, mostly because her grandmother seemed to appreciate her interest, even if it was of mind more than heart.

Janina had grown up bright, attentive, a ready student, and fascinated with the smallest things in the universe. Microscopes were wonderful, but soon not powerful enough. As soon as she heard about molecules, she wanted to see them. Atoms, quarks, everything. She wanted to know the energetic roots of the universe. She soaked up science classes, especially physics, mathematics, and, since the forces acting and comprising the smallest particles influenced the largest, astronomy, just so she had some idea of how all this scaled up.

Janina's scientific interests and growing skills landed her an acceptance to Cambridge. Yet despite fulfillment of that dream, she had trepidation about leaving almost everyone behind. Her father's family in Great Britain was not extensive, and she barely knew anyone there but her paternal grandparents. To her surprise, her parents decided to move to London, close enough to visit frequently, but far enough that she remained focused on her studies. Janina had dual citizenship from birth due to her mixed parentage. Janina, social and eager to fit into a largely-unfamiliar country, decided to call herself by her father's nickname for her: "Joan." No one in her family seemed to mind: it had been like she had three first names for years, anyway.

It was a strange quirk of fate that this move to England had perhaps saved all their lives, for a few years later, in 1987, World War III, relatively brief as such wars went, but ugly, had not been kind to their part of Poland, or her maternal grandmother. Fortunately, her parents had stayed safe, far from any hits. London had been hit too -- most unusually from two stolen Mark 3 Hawks which went on a strafing run before both were shot down by a Mark 4 Hawk -- but had not suffered as badly as in the prior World War. Though they sometimes visited surviving relatives and friends back in Poland, and they enjoyed doing so, it seemed almost like a different life now, in several different senses. What interest her parents had in returning to Poland at a future point seemed to quietly fade away. They appeared to be happy in London.

British sociologists called the worldwide phenomenon National Dislodgement Tolerance, that many willing or unwilling expatriates from before or during the war simply never returned permanently to their original home. Some who left were in turn replaced with others seeking opportunities in rebuilding areas. Efforts suddenly became more international, both in rebuilding countries and in building into space. Moonbase Alpha, started before the War, and largely a NASA and ESA effort early on, soon attracted much wider interest by many of the brightest from numerous countries. Various space agencies also started getting involved with Alpha and other space efforts. Russia, already strong in orbiting station efforts, began showing interest in helping with Alpha as well, after it re-emerged from the Soviet Union's rapid collapse in 1987. China began showing interest. Then new and fast-growing space agencies in Japan, Ukraine, Australia, South Korea, Argentina, and Morocco also began joining into low-orbit efforts initially, but seeking involvement with more lofty goals as well. Even South Africa, which had virtually torn itself to shreds, obliterating Apartheid in the end but struggling for a new identity, quixotically saw a space program as something to do just that. The World Space Commission, International Lunar Finance Committee, and International Lunar Commission formed, and Moonbase Alpha became fully international.

While much of this and more was happening, Janina quietly pursued her doctorate. She was a research assistant in the field of particle acceleration, first studying results, then starting to spend summers at the accelerator itself, built in Ireland just after the war. After earning her PhD, she had taken a job at a nuclear power plant, first as a technician and then technical lead, but she soon joined a multi-national research institute with sites around the world. Its primary consultant was the renowned Professor Victor Bergman, who divided his time among academia, non-academic research, and Science Advisor to Moonbase Alpha. Janina's particle research work eventually led to taking part in force field research as well, and the kindly Professor had taken an interest in her work in one of his occasional visits to the U.K., and they had interacted on some of his subsequent visits.

Much to her shock, he suddenly encouraged her to seek out a new opportunity. The ILC had opened up a new research posting on MBA, which the WSA's Science Board was seeking to fill. This time, well over a decade older than before Cambridge, she found herself more ready to take up the challenge, even though the people she knew could not follow. Her parents had been nothing but encouraging, and fortunately, the long-established Eagle Transporter System would allow occasional flights home for a week or more at a time. She pursued the role, with the backing of the Professor, and to her surprise and delight, was accepted. The research had proven fascinating, and she had on occasion helped out in the various Nuclear Generating Areas as well.

Now she found herself marooned, along with the other Alphans, on a runaway Moon. She never once regretted coming to the Moon, or accepting the Professor's encouragement, even though she wished Breakaway had not happened. The Professor had once expressed his remorse: "It seems I unintentionally entangled a few people in this new journey of ours," he had said; while she would have none of that. Still, it had not been easy, in losing her last connection to family, and in having to take up more duties, eventually as permanent supervisor of NGA-2, even though she interspersed time to continue most of her research -- a difficult but necessary balancing act. There was no family, a couple of boyfriends before and after Breakaway, including one dumped after he had gotten pushy not long after Breakaway, and a small, quiet, but good group of friends, now one less for the loss of Jane. Not another person had called her "Janina" since that last family call from Earth a few days before Breakaway. She had gotten so used to being called Joan since moving to England she had not even realized it until there was no one left in her life using her given name.

Janina opened her eyes, and was annoyed with herself to find several minutes had elapsed. The system automatically logged her out even as she cleared her eyes, so she logged back in. Of the electronic posts, there were many -- mostly hourly reports from her people that NGA-2 was stable and that some of her instructions on less-critical items had already been carried out. The Psychon attack had inflicted no apparent permanent damage to NGA-2's reactor, but system checks were still ongoing even while the reactor necessarily continued operation. When she ran into several pre-Psychon posts asking about clothing repair, she closed the system.

She'd first have to get her people through the checks, then back on track with routine duties, perhaps consult with other NGA's in case they found more problems than at NGA-2. She would have to check on the status of some physics research being run from her lab. Then there was dealing with... more difficult things. It would be days if not a week before she got back to less important things, like work on clothes. Part of her didn't mind putting the last off, but she knew by then some people would start asking, and a sense of duty on even that would take over. She sighed. She had brought it on herself, and she had not had any choice.

Cut off from Earth, Data Analyst Sandra Benes had assembled, not long after Simmonds had doomed himself, a survey to find out about all Alphan talents, including hobbies or other skills not listed in their career records, applications, resumés, etc. The order had come from the Commander himself, that all potentially-relevant skills had to be listed, and to what level of expertise, regardless of how amateur, sporadic, or long-unused they were. They were stuck on an island that happened to be the Moon, and people would have to take on different duties at times to fill needs once handled in very different ways back in Earth orbit. So Janina felt compelled to list, among other things, her skills working on clothing.

Of all the things... a PhD in physics, a research lab, a supervisory role -- with an office -- in a Nuclear Generating Area, and here she had to spend a few hours a week dealing with clothing. Today, though, there were plenty of higher priorities, including to head to NGA-2 to make sure everything really was okay, then over to check on Greg Sanderson.

Jane's fiancé was one Jane had constantly called a "gentle bear," though Janina had to admit she had always seen plenty of hints about the bear part, though Janina never saw any sign he would be anything but a good husband to Jane, something Janina had wanted to be sure of. Greg had taken Jane's loss hard, including cursing the name of Mentor and all Psychons, not only for the loss of his fiancée, but of a good friend of his, Roger Hayes, killed in a combat Eagle destroyed by the Psychon mystery weapon as well. Greg would need Janina to talk to, and she might have things she needed to tell him too, to find some way through her pain as she helped Greg through his even worse losses.

She had already heard about the two Alphans who had died on Psychon, since the first officer had already announced them. Four total -- at least as far as Janina knew. She knew Alpha could have been destroyed, and had been under such dire threat, even before the main attack, that the first officer had sent a robot Eagle loaded with magnetically-enhanced nuclear material to try to crack the unstable planet wide open, or at least lay waste to the site where the aliens seemed to be working from. Everyone was saying, however, that the Eagle was destroyed by the Psychons, well shy of their planet, about fifteen minutes before its demise.

There was a big piece of the puzzle missing, and she had trouble even guessing what it might be. Not that everyone would necessarily find out, for some details of missions were kept by the officers. This one, though, was big: the destruction of an entire planet. She wondered how many Psychons had been on it. Rumor had it the world seemed too hellish for a large population, and she hated the thought of a whole people dying, even if they had been attacking Alpha. She was happy to be alive, and would always pick Alpha over a hostile world, but it made her profoundly sad it had ended up coming to that.

She had watched Psychon's destruction, like so many others. Mentor had beamed his face all over Alpha, but for some reason the destruction of Psychon had ended up piped all over Alpha too, and it was a startling, relief-filled, and sad moment, all at once.

She mused on some of this as she took a shower, and just after she got into her uniform, Commander Koenig started a base-wide visual message. Janina was sad to hear final confirmation of the death toll, and had not been aware the casualty count had been so high. Then, however, came the missing piece of the puzzle: a young, shattered-looking Psychon woman, the daughter of bloody Mentor no less, looking like she was trying to put on a brave face. Koenig was giving some detail on how, after difficulty, the alien woman was convinced to check the Alphans' claims, and once she had found out the truth, had freed them, allowing Koenig to take action to destroy Mentor's technology, which led to Psychon's destruction and her own father's death.

Despite the alien's strange features, most of her face still looked quite human, and appeared very expressive. Janina, so soon after seeing her own grief reflected in a mirror, saw grief in spades on Maya's face. Seeing that, it was easier to spot at least one other expression written all over her face, underneath her try at a brave face: shame, no doubt from what Koenig had pressed her into finding out about her own father.

Maya, Daughter of Mentor, of Psychon, looked grief-stricken, ashamed, and nervous, all while trying to look brave. She was about the saddest-looking creature Janina had ever seen.

Janina immediately accepted Maya, for the commander's explanation explained both the current state of Psychon and the current visible state of Maya.

Then it occurred to her, given what the commander had said about welcoming her to the crew and community, that the Psychon would need Alphan clothing. Sure enough, within several minutes, she got a call from First Officer Tony Verdeschi. "Dr. Conway, please meet me at Clothing Stores immediately."

She confirmed, then called to one of her people in NGA-2 that she would be delayed. She trusted her people to carry on without her for a little while longer, and besides, she wanted to give the forlorn Psychon a good welcome.

Janina abruptly realized that aside from the Servant of the Guardian, who had turned out to be an android, she had never actually met an alien before. Well, that isn't quite true. She stopped in her tracks. She had met Jackie Crawford, even made him his little "Commander" uniform as requested, but he had turned out to be Jarak, who had tried to kill all the Alphans, her included. Were any aliens to be trusted, even this new one? Yes, she thought. She started walking again. Her instincts were to trust this one. Then again, she had trusted Jackie.... She would reserve full judgment until she actually met Maya, she decided, so she put the fears out of her mind. She wanted this to be a good meeting.

As soon as she walked into Clothing Stores, she saw Verdeschi and Russell, with Maya standing between and a little behind them, as if there was a fear Janina might attack or that she had brought others. Understandable, of course; but without missing a beat or waiting for either officer to carry out the introductions, Janina smiled widely and approached, extending her hand and saying, "Hello, I am Janina. Janina Conway. Some call me Joan." The two officers looked a bit surprised.

The Psychon struggled for a tiny smile, but said in a quiet yet even voice as she stepped forward and extended her hand to allow a handshake, "Hello,... Janina. I am Maya."

It was indeed a good meeting, and Dr. Russell soon left, apparently comfortable Maya was well in hand with Tony and Janina, advising the security officer to bring Maya to Medical Care Unit 4 next.

That one planet had produced both Mentor and Maya, one having caused her friend Jane's death, the other a potential new friend, suddenly struck Janina as a strange combination. It crossed her mind then to wonder what poor Jane's reaction would have been. It was Mentor who had caused Jane's death, not his daughter, who had interceded for Alpha. Janina saw no conflict of loyalties.

T-344 DAB 0800-0830: Medical Units

Helena had finally broken away to return to Medical Center, after a stop in her quarters. After Bob gave her a capsule pre-rounds brief about the current patients, he asked about whether Maya would be brought here anytime soon.

"As soon as she sees a tailor for some clothes measurements, Tony is bringing her," Helena answered. "I'll be running some more tests -- I already did some field checks on the Eagle. She hasn't slept well in days, so I'll just run some basics now, and have her sleep here to monitor something closer to baseline."

"I would suggest one of the smaller rooms."

"Yes, I already told Tony MCU-4."

Though there was a multi-room Medical Center, there had always been Medical Care Units. MCU was the acronym, and they doubled as satellite facilities, scattered about the base for proximity, overflow, and redundancy. If needed, some Care Units doubled as isolation wards. Each had at least a nurse or paramedic on duty at all times, to accept patients presenting themselves there due to urgency; doctors could rush there as needed, while some initial aid was rendered. Almost all cases still came to Medical Center, especially in cases where the patient had to be taken from somewhere on a gurney. MC had the most concentration of resources of every type.

Medical Center's move downstairs had not changed that. In fact, it had simply repurposed the now-former MCU-1, which had always been the largest Care Unit, and several side rooms which now became part of the new multi-room Medical Center. The former MC, up-level, became MCU-1, though there was some discussion of paring it down by perhaps repurposing some of its side rooms in coming months. For now, they remained overflow storage rooms of some medical equipment while various small details left over from the move continued settling. Two pieces of medical equipment were too large to practically move, at least any time soon, so they would have to be kept in what was now MCU-1, with patients brought there if needed.

Each MCU was different in arrangement. MCU-4 had a two-room observation/isolation arrangement. The anteroom had a desk, a couple chairs, cabinets with some medical equipment for active use or in storage, and a few other items; while the care room itself had three beds, the typical set of equipment, soundproof walls, a table and some chairs, a cabinet with more pajamas as well as some books and other entertainment, and a side door to a bathroom complete with a shower. Between the anteroom and the care room was a soundproof door and glass panel, with a speaker arrangement set up. It could be used as a complete isolation ward, if needed, There was even a way of delivering food safely. Oftentimes, however, it was just used as another typical ward.

Now, it would just be used for simple observation of Maya, away from the patients who had been injured by her father, or their visitors. Helena had thought a little temporary isolation, distance-wise, would be good for all of the patients until a proper direct introduction could be made.

It wasn't just the recent move that had brought change to Medical Section, but that Dr. Ben Vincent had just completed his fellowship, started before Breakaway, and now no longer needed direct day-to-day supervision and could be the primary physician for roughly a third of Alpha. Redistribution, though a task itself, had been fairly swift so far, and was already mostly complete.

That one blast to the original location of Medical Center could have taken out the entire M.D. corps had worried Dr. Russell, and she had taken it upon herself to start gathering thoughts and materials for a medical training program. Alpha was one of several key locations for Space Medicine, and that had left Alpha research programs, as well as the ability to manufacture pharmaceuticals, but oddly, few fully-trained M.D.'s. Beyond research and a fellowship program, Alpha was not prepared for a full-cycle Pre-Med to Accredited Doctor program, and had little formal training material for most aspects of such. Even when Ed Spencer finished fellowship, years from now, that still left the future to be concerned about. There was little choice now, but to start a full-scale training program almost from scratch. No choice, really, if Alphans were to continue beyond a couple generations.

She and Bob had discussed these options for awhile, had put out feelers to the paramedics and nurses, and had received some tentative interest. Such a program would take longer on Alpha: for with so few doctors, and lots of other duties for everyone involved, there was only so much time for the intensive training and learning required -- as well as other complications.

It would be months before Helena and Bob, maybe with some help from Ben and Ed, fresher from Pre-Med, to arrange the first "year" (or so) of such a program. Bob had volunteered to take the greater part of this work too. As Ben continued improving his newly acquired skills, Helena suspected Bob would be around for general casework a lot less in a year or two, with training and psych work, and still some research, taking up much more of his time. She would have to insist he kept his general skills active, though, even if he became more behind the scenes than before. It was going to be a complicated transition. It kept Helena busy many evenings, debating the finer points in her mind or with Bob, sometimes to a mix of irritation and understanding from John, who wanted to spend more time with her. Yet as with other things, she had found herself relaxing a bit more on this too, letting Bob help more, while she still retained general control. It was subtly transitioning more to teamwork.

They then went on rounds, Dr. Mathias presenting the patients. Near the end, Helena's commlock gave a single distinct beep, the pre-arranged page from Tony. She didn't let any reaction to that cross her face, but continued smoothly with the final two patients, one of whom -- Diane Bell -- was still critical but stable. In the end, Bob had indicated almost half of the casualties he had not previously released were ready for such now. "Unless you have any objections, Helena?" he asked away from the patients.

"None," she said. "When you're done, please be ready to stop by MCU-4; but wait for my page. It will probably be a half hour or more from now."

He confirmed, so she left him to proceed with the releases, while she proceeded to MCU-4 herself. She found Tony standing near the desk of the anteroom, Maya sitting in a seat further away from the door -- a rather defensive arrangement.

"Hello again, Maya."

"Hello again, Doctor Russell," Maya partially echoed as she stood up but stayed where she was, while Helena immediately went to a cabinet and pulled out a pair of blue medical/sleep pajamas that seemed the right size for Maya, and a pair of slippers.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Maya said vaguely, probably out of politeness.

Helena could scarcely imagine what she must be feeling right now, but Helena let that just be simple small talk for now, instead indicating, "There is a bathroom through that door and the one on the right, where you can change into these clothes. We'll just run some more basic tests, then I'll let you sleep on one of those beds for as long as you need, though I'll still have some of the equipment continue to monitor, so I can start gathering a baseline. Oh, it has a shower, too. No need to hurry. Here, I'll get the correct button on this door; just touch the same button by the other door."

Maya said nothing, and her expression, besides a nod, was unreadable, as she went through the doors.

Helena waited patiently for Maya, answering Tony's further questions about the injured personnel. When Maya emerged, changed, hair down, and carrying her Psychon clothes and jewelry, Helena carefully took the clothes first, put them into the larger box, and after what Tony had told Helena, added the shoes on top. Maya offered the hair pins and jewelry next, for the smaller box. It was the way Maya held the final item that caught Helena's attention. Maya's pendant, which Helena had noticed before, was evocative of a spider or crab or similar creature, yet was quite beautiful. Helena abruptly recalled that Maya had used it to lower the force field back on Psychon; it had technology in it. She quickly set the thought aside for now, deciding to bring it up with John, later. Maya held it separately and carefully, clearly not wanting to drop it. It might have been fragile, perhaps, but Maya's handling struck Helena as something different than that.

Helena carefully took the pendant, found something to wrap it in, and set it in with the rest of the jewelry and pins. The moment was not lost on either woman. The Psychon had already entrusted her life, her safety, her future, and now what few possessions she had, to the Alphans.

Helena guided her back to the care room and the center of the three beds there, while Helena also quietly paged Bob.

Tony remained where he was, in the outer room, wanting to give them a bit of privacy, even though there was a window between the rooms. He touched the 'L' button to listen in for the slightest threat in Maya's voice. He had his doubts, and watched through the window. The alien seemed nowhere near threatening now -- even looked a bit vulnerable in simple pyjamas and with her hair down -- but if she took offense to something Helena did....

Aliens could be tricky, and though he trusted John's word, he could not get himself to give up old habits so easily. Being nice to the Psychon and seeing to her safety while carefully assessing all her reactions was one thing; just assuming she was perfectly okay right away was not his style. Helena could generally handle herself reasonably well, Maya seemed to be a little tired, and he was just in the other room. So he remained there, just watching and listening. He saw Maya notice him standing there, but she made no outward reaction, and he did not react either. Maya turned away from him as Helena started hooking her up to some monitors.

Then he recalled John's words about Bokessu, and called the latter. "Report to MCU-4, nominal." The last was one of several signals, usually only employed while nerves were still high at -- or just after -- the end of a crisis, to make sure no misunderstanding lead to a group of guards storming in with heavy weaponry. Of course, Bokessu would still have his sidearm, as Tony did.

Helena began taking some immediate readings and found some rather high readings on heartbeat, blood pressure, respiration, and brain wave patterns. Helena was not sure at first if she was looking at a Psychon's norm or.... "Maya, I know it is difficult, but I need you to relax as best as you can. Close your eyes, take a few deep breaths, and let them out slowly but fully."

A few deep breaths released with the sound of a lot of tension, and Helena was rewarded with a distinct if probably not complete reduction in most figures. The brain activity eased only slightly, but both her pulse rate and blood pressure fell to somewhat near the low end of a typical human range on each. The combination mildly concerned Dr. Russell at first, especially given it did not seem like Maya had eliminated all her stress; yet the pulse-oxygen monitor was continuing to display normal readings, so Helena relaxed. It seemed almost as if her blood carried oxygen a little more efficiently than human blood. After a moment, she wondered if the partial pressure of oxygen on Alpha was a little higher than on Psychon. She would have to call for some detailed mission survey results at some point.

"That is much better," Helena said. "You can open your eyes now."

The thought of blood brought Helena to the next step. Maya looked at the needle with a slight expression Helena could not directly interpret, but said nothing. Helena gave a brief explanation of some of the tests needed from blood, and Maya nodded, so Helena started the draw, and the vial started filling with a fluid that was red. She only took a little, only what was needed for some initial baseline tests.

In many ways, Maya was easy to read, expressive and not filtering much; but at times, was difficult to read, perhaps from a combination of emotional shock, being and looking somewhat alien, and trying to push through the exhaustion. Helena assumed she'd get better reading Maya over time, as she got to see her react in various situations. In this situation, it wasn't long before Helena saw the exhaustion become clear. Helena decided to belay internal scans until the morning, even though the first batch could be done with equipment in MCU-4. Dr. Russell wanted to let Maya give into the exhaustion and finally some deep sleep, hopefully.

Bob and Tony walked in at that point, so Helena introduced Maya and Bob, which went well. Then she handed Bob the vial of blood for a first round of tests, also saying, "Oh, and ask Nurse... Adams to come here." He nodded, and left with the sample of Maya's blood.

Helena tried to insist on Maya eating, but despite Maya deferring on other topics, she remained stubborn on this, without offering any reason. Helena decided this was the last time she would tolerate this: if Maya did not start eating after she woke up, it would become a medical question which had to be answered. For now, Helena decided that upsetting Maya when she probably most needed sleep -- and seemed almost ready to give into it -- was probably the greater of two problems.

A couple minutes and another simple test later, Tony came in with Adams, who paused by the doorway, but only a moment, before approaching without further hesitation. It was a cordial encounter. Helena caught Tony's eye and got back a subtle nod from him, matching Helena's own opinion. Helena could put Cynthia Adams on medical watch over Maya, while Tony or one of his people -- she wondered if Tony was going to have a guard meet Maya sometime before she slept -- would keep security watch.

Tony retreated to the other room again, but less than a minute later, came back in with Bokessu. Maya's readings increased, showing nervousness about this introduction, apparently remembering him as the guard with the rather large laser rifle, and perhaps by association his noticeably more nervous compatriot, Giles. However, it was a good meeting too, him even saying, "You don't have to be nervous about me." Her readings soon settled again.

Helena discussed some initial readings with Cynthia and started giving some instructions. Cynthia then left to start carrying them out, including activating the remote monitors in the anteroom. Meanwhile, Maya put her head back and promptly closed her eyes. The two men left the immediate room and started watching through the glass, until Tony stepped away and she saw him lean against another wall, talking with the guard. Helena remained, finishing a few notes and waiting to see if her unusual patient would finally sleep. The Psychon's respiration and heartbeat dropped a bit further, to the lowest end of the normal human range. She had seen some unusual readings from aliens, more than Maya's, so hers were actually somewhat closer to human than she had expected. The brain wave activity was the last to decline, though still not by much. She had seen somewhat higher readings among a number of aliens, most surprisingly among the Kaldorians. She had also seen some lower ones. Regardless, Maya looked peaceful, breathing easily, and otherwise gave the appearance of sleep, so Helena found herself relaxing. Her tragic patient was finally getting some sound sleep, it seemed.

She quietly left the room with her notes, briefed Cynthia, then sat down at the desk to finish more notes, while Cynthia sat down elsewhere, to wait.

Helena suddenly realized she did not know what a normal period of sleep for a Psychon might be. She could only assume that it would be some fraction of Psychon's rotational period, but she wasn't sure what that was, except for it being longer than 24 hours. "Tony, do you know what Psychon's rotation time was?"

"What? Oh, something like thirty hours. Actually, thirty-three or thirty-four I think. Sorry, let me check with Sandra." He called her on the commpost, and asked Helena's question.

"About thirty-three and a half hours," Sandra replied. "Do you need the exact figure?"

"Yes, please," Helena said, needing this key information for her notes as well as the formal record she would start soon, probably tomorrow.

Within a couple seconds, Sandra had looked up the information, and listed it off slowly, so Helena could get it written down accurately, on scratch paper for now. "33.464, plus/minus two hundredths of a percent. That is 33 hours, 27 minutes, 50 seconds, give or take 25 seconds."

"Thank you," Tony said to Sandra, disconnecting, then turning to Helena. "I had not thought of it before, but that is quite a difference. Do you think she can adapt?"

"I suspect she's adaptable, I hope; but I think nine hours would be asking a lot. We should probably work out a schedule that is more suited to letting her sleep in a normal way for her."

Tony laughed once, then said, "Forget first shift, second shift, or third shift, but Psychon shift."

Tony's words made Helena realize she might have to set aside some special medical supplies for the now permanently-resident alien. Psychon Specials, she thought. A kit or cart, if needed. She didn't know of any special needs, yet; but there was a chance something would be discovered soon or over time.

T-344 DAB 0800-1200: Nuclear Recovery

After having met Maya, Janina headed to NGA-2. All shifts of her crew were temporarily back in now, running through final safety procedures in preparation to returning the reactor to full power. It had been pushed higher during the Red Alert, shaken a little, nearly shutdown, and scaled back to standby power while its stability was being evaluated yet one more time. That had finished soon after Janina had gotten there, so after informing Command Center of the intent to return to normal levels, she had done so. This was done slowly, and she continued monitoring after it was returned to normal levels.

As she moved about and things settled, her acute hearing sometimes caught bits of conversations. Where yesterday, the day after the attack, most conversation had centered on the attack, Mentor, and Psychons in general, now they centered on one Psychon, the one now among Alphans. Two of the men thought Maya was "strangely enough, quite a looker," but beyond that, they seemed very much more unsure of the woman. The two women also seemed unsure.

Sadly, Janina picked up on some grumbles against poor Maya. Some seemed a little more understanding about her being here, if not very enthusiastic; while some begrudgingly accepted John Koenig "sparing her life" for how she had helped them, but were not so keen to welcome her as base personnel, much less as part of the "community." It was a rather more mixed reaction than Janina had hoped for, disappointing in some ways, but she did not pick up on anything sinister. At one point, two looked at Janina, as if thinking she had heard them and wanting to hear her reaction. So she said, "I think she did a wonderful thing, and deserves our friendship or at least respect." She kept it at that. Let them think over the basic facts.

Now, Janina walked towards Greg's quarters. Her NGA shifts were not normal shift lengths due to her continuing research, though she now had an assistant of her own on the latter too. Plus, there was the somewhat random clothing work. This had all been discussed and approved, Prof. Bergman and others vouching for her sense of balance, ability to shift priorities easily whenever needed, and her maturity when it came to work and supervisory skills. With the uptake of three roles on Alpha, and her showing the same sense of wisdom at prioritizing, she had eventually been given discretion on how to balance them on particular days. So there was no problem that she was taking time to visit Greg, and would later, after some time to check her research and experiments, take some time to get a uniform together for Maya.

A few minutes later, she discovered the charitable yet slightly chilly mix of responses to the Psychon survivor was tame compared to Greg's.

"He brought a Psychon back. Why the hell would he bring a damned, bloody Psychon back?"

That was virtually the first thing out of his mouth, after a curt yet apparently grateful greeting. His words were already too much for Janina. "Or what? Leave her to die on the planet after she sacrificed virtually everything to save us?"

"It was Koenig who saved us. He just got her to do something for a moment. Who knows what she thinks now."

"John Koenig would not welcome her that way--"

"John Koenig should lock her the hell away."

"So your gratitude is to either lock her up or leave her to die," she said, trying to get through to him. His grief was turning to anger, and Janina had found herself confronting Greg over his reaction to Maya, which was harsher than she had expected -- so much so that she had to confront him and hope he saw just how extreme he was getting. Jane's "gentle bear" was snarling now, over the loss of his fiancée Jane, and best friend Roger.

"When have aliens ever been kind to Alpha?"

"The Kaldorians? Remember it was Simmonds who saw fit to take Alpha hostage to get on board their ship?"

"You should stay away from her," Greg said, ignoring her comment on behalf of the gentleness of some aliens.

"Well, I have already met her, and what I saw--"

"You met her? What for?"

"Because she needs some uniforms and other clothing."

"So we are going to dress her up like she is human."

"Like she is an Alphan."

"That is terribly dangerous."

"Let me tell you, Greg, I saw more grief on her face than even mine, shame and humiliation over what her father did, and fear."

"Ah, that we will see through her game."

"Greg, listen to yourself. I know you are hurting from losing Jane -- and Roger. It was Mentor who attacked us, not Maya. Would Jane want you blaming Maya when she did nothing against us, and even went against him when she found out what he was doing to us? Would Jane want you tossing an innocent woman in a cell for the rest of her life, or leaving her somewhere to die because of actions of someone else?"

"So you trust Koenig."

"Trust Koenig? What do you mean?"

"What he says about the alien."

"Yes," she said, then took a more conciliatory tone than she had been in for the last couple of minutes, trying to convince him about Maya. Greg relented -- so abruptly that Janina was left feeling puzzled. Was he convinced, or tired of listening to Janina arguing on Maya's behalf?

T-344 DAB 0900-1500: New Stresses?

John, Tony, Alan, Helena, and Sandra were having a working late breakfast in the meeting room, as Bill took watch duty. It was not a formal de-briefing, for that would take too long. This was for the essentials -- but also to talk a bit about a few other essentials: the four people most recently lost. That part would come last, however.

First came status updates, of which there were many even for this brief summary meeting. That took awhile. Reports on Power, Medical, Reconnaissance, the lack of detection of further alien activity. The reports were very terse. Everyone knew their areas, with the possible exception of the complicated and split-up oversight of Technical Section.

John briefly inquired about Maya, heard she was finally sleeping comfortably. Maya had a good meeting with Dr. Conway too.

By now, they had all finished eating, and ten minutes of the planned time frame remained, so they shared a little of what they knew or remembered of each person. It was a tradition which had started not long after Breakaway, and besides the officers simply talking amongst themselves about the latest losses, it also helped John start gathering some thoughts for the memorial service he would speak at in a few days. He would have to have more talks, with more people soon; but this was a helpful start to him. Though it was a selfish thought, John again felt sad relief he would not have to speak at the funerals too. That was the chaplain's tragic duty.

The late Lew Picard was the last one talked about, and when the conversation trailed off, Tony spoke into the silence. "Not to be a jerk returning the conversation to duty needs, but as far as I know, no one's talked about what becomes of the oversight duties Lew had."

"Hmmm, Research Unit...." John mumbled. They had not considered what to do with that large group of people, the sole part of Technical whose oversight had not shifted to another section head for now.

"We're running thin," Helena said. "Until we can identify some further mid-level leads below officer level, the five of us are running ragged, to be blunt and honest, with all due respect to how we're all doing our best."

John steepled his fingers unconsciously, nodding at her and then looking past her, then finally said, "How about temporarily forming a Science Board?"

"Like those back on Earth in the various oversight committees, that were allocating research time and funds?" Alan asked, having heard of science boards but not really familiar with them.

"That's them," Tony said.

"Temporary measure with limited authority," John thought aloud. "Or we could keep them later, in a limited role to aid the Science Officer, who can also be their chair too. They can filter some of the day to day research discussion or whatever makes most sense to relieve some of the detail and allow exercise of the other parts of the intended Science Officer role."

Tony chuckled, and said, "Under carefully worded but crystal clear threat of the board being dissolved when it ceases to be... 'efficient.'"

John laughed, his first genuine laugh in days. So did Helena, and Alan even more so. Even Sandra cracked half a smile. The various boards and committees back on Earth had not been the most popular among the command staff.

They agreed it would be a good thing to attempt. John and Tony would organize it. They'd be the primary contacts once the board was running, anyway.

T-344 DAB 2100-2300: Long, Strange Day Closing

Tony Verdeschi thought it had to be one of his strangest days yet, as he crammed a workout in the upper-level gymnasium, where it was quieter and he could gather some thoughts.

He had woken up expecting to soon be able to greet the returning Alphans, catch a little more rest, and throw himself back into duties to start overseeing some of the repairs and such. Instead, he ended up confronted with them bringing an alien -- right into Command Center no less -- and having to escort her around the base. That she had turned out to look like she was in shock and humble, and that John vouched for her, had not entirely made up for the surprise of seeing her in the first place, or of having to spend so much time with her instead of other duties -- or the concern she could still be plenty of trouble herself.

For some reason, he found himself thinking about her striking face, and her greenish dress. She had been surprisingly beautiful. For an alien, he hastily added. Catbird, his tired mind reminded him, to a groan and then yawn. How she looked with her hair down and in pyjamas. Almost cute. He shook his head. I must really be exhausted, he thought, though feeling a little guilty too.

His workout in, he left for his quarters, and turned in, knowing he'd have to start early, and would probably have a long day, especially if Maya didn't wake up for awhile yet and then was up for twenty hours or something.

That only got him thinking about Maya again, and women in general. He had always liked the 'exotic' type. The foreigners. Women who looked and sounded a bit different than the ones he saw every day. Women with accents. So had his brother Guido, even more if anything. It had been much to his somewhat old-fashioned parents' puzzlement and concern, not to mention their sisters' endless teasing. Maya is rather beyond just 'exotic,' he thought, yet at the same time part of him wasn't thinking so. This only annoyed him further. He was used to starting to think about other women while a relationship was faltering or failing, which felt like it was the case with Lena recently; but this was just strange. Maya still struck him as a security danger, and he decided this must be the reason he was thinking of her, trying to recall any expression or movement that might be construed as a threat. By the time he fell asleep, he had not thought of any, and his last, muddled, half-conscious, semi-coherent thoughts were of himself wondering whether Maya would like lasagna and beer.

W-345 DAB 0415-0600: Buzzing Tableau

Tony slept fitfully, waking up a few times with fragments of dreams melting away instantaneously, except for the last....

Standing in Command Center. Mentor there, laughing away. Maya standing halfway between Mentor and John and Tony. A miniature Psychon ship buzzing around the room, flashing a green light at Tony every few seconds. Psychon itself looking hideous on the Big Screen. Tony himself handing a small, ticking, nuclear Eagle to John, and on the commander's orders, running out of the room, leaving John, Alan, Helena, and Bill there with the aliens. An explosion sounding behind him. Sandra in the hallway, backing away from him and saying, with a tone of accusation, "you should have checked." Lena dressed in a clown suit, laughing and making up jokes and calling him a fool.

He awoke with a start, sweating. He had hated -- detested -- sending the nuclear Eagle, but it was coded and mandatory for good reason. That had been proven given the power of the attack Mentor leveled at Alpha not long after the failure of Directive 4 -- maybe even the total destruction of Psychon itself. Psychons had terrible power, it seemed, and that only reminded him of Maya again. No lasagna or beer crossed his mind this time, but the image of her in the same room as her father, from his dream, and the thought of her standing in Command Center in real life, both came back to him. What the hell does Alpha really know about aliens, even after all this time? he thought, yet feeling uncertain in what sense he meant it. Still, some sharp questions might be in order about how much she knew of whatever her father had been doing. Tony himself still didn't know what had all transpired on Psychon, but there would be an officer de-briefing sometime soon, he knew. The sooner the better. Maybe he could get better details and express his concerns in a different forum. He'd have to question Maya at some point.

He looked at the clock. 04:16. He was sweating. It had not been a frightening nightmare, but it had been disturbing dream. Or maybe there was a true nightmare beforehand and all he was remembering was the final images. Lena in a clown suit wasn't funny either; she was a good woman with a few odd traits, but not a clown, despite the shaky ground of their relationship. Regardless, he didn't feel interested in going back to sleep.

He called Bokessu, who reported nominal status, including that the alien was still sleeping. Tony felt relief, though curiously, he was not sure if it was over Maya not giving anyone else problems, or over anyone else giving her problems. He sighed. Both, of course. He might be suspicious of Maya, but he didn't want to see her hurt. She might be completely innocent, or she might not, but she was his charge, and even if she had been a prisoner, her safety still counted for something unless she were actively attacking. Somehow, that didn't feel like the whole reason.

He left for MCU-4, to relieve Bokessu, kicking himself for not having brought in another guard to meet Maya before she had gone to sleep.

Once there, he quickly, after simple greetings to Bokessu and Adams, walked up to the window and looked at Maya carefully. She seemed to be asleep, resting on her back under the sheet, her auburn hair spread out on either side of her face. "What's her status?"

The nurse answered first. "As far as I can tell, she's remained asleep. Brain wave patterns are higher in her, sometimes varying; but Dr. Russell advised me these might be normal for her."

"Doesn't know?"

"No. This one's new to her."

Tony guffawed. "Yeah, to me too. Bo?"

"She hasn't moved. Well, she has, but just tossing and turning -- a lot. Very restless sleeper."

"Hmmm," he mumbled. He wondered if it was a sign of anything; but with humans, it could be a dozen things, and she was not human. "Okay, you're relieved until 09:15. I know it's only four hours, but after that, I will work on arrangements."

"Understood, sir."

Tony settled down to read some reports and catch up, looking up once and awhile to check the Psychon. Sure enough, she did seem to be a restless sleeper. That, and Dr. Ben Vincent walking in to check with Cynthia on Maya's status, distracted Tony from his work. A few minutes after Ben left, Tony noticed Maya mouthing something, and stood up to hit the button. It was a single alien word, "ina," which she repeated again. Then she turned over and was quiet again. At this rate, it will be tomorrow before I catch up with these reports.

Not ten minutes later, he saw her saying something again, turned on the speaker again, and caught, "... rana, Tony, leit'eesk tral," before she fell silent again.

Great, now I'm hearing my name spoken from her dream or whatever and have no idea what she just said. He jotted her words down, the best he could, not sure if he would ask her at some point or not, but wanting the option. He separately added the word ina.

This time, he left the speaker active, wanting to hear if she spoke again. What he got for the next hour was nothing but her turning over in bed every ten minutes, which was even more annoying than not knowing what she had said. He caught Adams looking at him briefly with irritation. Maya was making him jumpy for no good reason, and the nurse was getting annoyed with all of it. So he hit the 'L' to disengage the connection.

"She's been doing that for hours, Mr. Verdeschi," she was already saying. "Nothing more. I don't know if it's normal or if she's in shock, but these monitors will tell me if she shows more signs of stirring."

Great, now the nurse is giving me veiled security tips.

W-345 DAB 0500-0900: Nightmares and Semi-Accidents

"Helena!"

John awoke with a start, a horrible image in mind, of Helena working in the Psychon mines, mindlessly, a slave of Mentor.

Most of the rest of the dream came back to him moments later -- and he wish it hadn't. John escaping from Mentor only to stumble into the caverns and find Helena, Alan, Bill, Ray, Lew, Tony, Bob, Ben.... Helena, everyone. Helena.

05:05.

An hour later, he was heading towards the damaged part of the base, to follow up with Chief Architect Karedepoulos regarding the damage there that had led to the death of Jane Clemens.

Mentor's attack had pinpointed the floor of the top-most level, which had exploded outwards, piercing the outer hull and also the floor one level down, decompressing three levels in that fortunately relatively-confined area. Jane Clemens had been on the lowest of the three, perhaps even on her way out, when she was caught. About twenty rooms had been exposed. Some were piled with boxes and storage cubes from the move, and other rooms near them remained empty, all in preparation for the final unpacking steps still left from the last, incomplete stages of massive moving project. According to Sandra, a cursory computer inventory revealed probable material losses to be minor. Much of what was stored there could take vacuum and extreme cold with repairable or no damage; and the rest, though a loss Alpha didn't need, could be replaced or lived without.

John reached the area, on the upper-most floor in the damaged area, where most of the damage was, two levels above where Jane had died. Two Service Section personnel were here, one holding John's own spacesuit, retrieved from one of the many spacesuit storage closets scattered about the base in proximity to living quarters, and some less personalized ones scattered elsewhere. He was informed Karedepoulos was already in the compromised area. Two bulkheads were being used as an ad hoc airlock.

Chief Architect Alexander Karedepoulos looked at the commander, wondering how Commander Koenig would react to his curious but troubling hypothesis.

They were both suited up, staring at the bizarre damage. The floor they were standing on, in their spacesuits, was mostly smooth, except for some shrapnel damage; but further beyond them, looked like it had been boiled and baked, for it grew increasingly irregular and discolored, until it looked outright different, more irregular, the bumps and depressions varying more and more in height, depth, width, and strange coloration (in just about every color), until they reached the jagged, highly irregular edge of a hole through the floor and the wall to neighboring rooms. It was the strange remains of part of the Psychon attack, up close. Looking up, he could see numerous puncture holes showed black space beyond. They ranged in size from many pencil-width ones to one a couple meters across.

They exchanged some words, mostly Karedepoulos pointing out particular bits of very strange damage, at a couple points saying things like: "I don't think some of this is really metal or plastic any more, especially all these purple and blue splotches"; and "Some walls seem to be coated with some original material, like it was melted, and then sprayed on the walls, but too uniformly in some places. In other places, the spray seems to be something alien."

They then left this area, back through the bulkheads being used as an airlock. The Service personnel helped them out of their suits. One Service person took the commander's suit back to storage, while the other took Alexander's suit to a neighboring room, followed by the two themselves. Alex had taken over this empty room to set up a temporary post, and within a few moments, they were alone. Some of the neighboring rooms were one of Zoology's scattered clusters. Fortunately -- if anything could be considered fortunate given the loss of a human life nearby -- the animals already here had all been on the safe side of the bulkheads.

"As strange as it sounds," Alex started immediately, "I do not think Mentor was shooting to kill; well, at least not her -- at least not at that moment."

"Why do you say that?" the Commander asked.

"Clemens was not in the immediate area of the damage, nor was anyone else; but when this area was decompressed, the first bulkhead failed to seal, so a second activated as a result, but Jane was caught between the two of them."

"In an unsealed area she could not escape."

Alexander nodded, then said, "Commander, do you know what kind of weapon Mentor used, or have you interrogated Maya about..." -- at the commander's darkening expression at that word, he changed it -- "I mean asked Maya about it? It might help me understand the extent of the damage and maybe how to repair it."

"What do you think it was?"

"Sir? Oh, I'm glad you asked, because I can say for sure it was not laser damage, because it did not punch a hole inward from the outside. Something happened inside and exploded outward. But it was not a bomb, not like anything I could guess at, other than it looked like the structure itself somehow became highly unstable and blew up."

For some reason, the Commander looked a bit surprised, or perhaps even impressed, by Alexander's hypothesis. The Commander said nothing for several seconds, seemingly scrutinizing Alexander for some reason. "Molecular transformation," he finally said.

"Sir? You want me to check for chemical byproducts of the explosion?"

"No, the... well, yes, check what you think makes sense, or is critical; but the weapon was molecular transformation."

"Molecular transformation? You mean Mentor was remotely transforming the base's superstructure into something explosive? All the way from Psychon?" The Commander nodded. "My God," Alex continued. "Yesterday, you said that destroying Mentor's... technology freed energy that destroyed the whole planet?"

"The planet was already unstable, and it was complicated; but basically, yes."

"My God," Alex could only repeat himself at first. "I am no physicist, but that speaks of incredible power. He could have leveled the whole base, if not the Moon -- maybe. No wonder you arranged for Mr. Verdeschi to send that Eagle."

The Commander said nothing. Some of the information would probably remain 'eyes only' for the officers, Alexander suspected. So he moved on. "Then I really need to talk to Maya about this, to find out if she knows how contained such damage might be."

Though Alex had proffered his service, he was not happy about the prospect. The last thing he wanted was to see an alien, after another had killed Jane Clemens -- and had revealed a flaw in Alpha's maintenance or design. Still, it was, according to implications in the commander's words now and before, not Maya's fault, and there were repairs to be made. Duty was duty.

The Commander scrutinized him for a moment, seemingly picking up on Alexander's mixed feelings, given the words that followed: "Fine, after a few days, and as soon as Maya is ready, I will bring her here and all of us can take a look and have a discussion. A professional discussion."

The Commander's emphasis on the last was a clear signal he was expecting Karedepoulos to be civil about it. "Of course." Alexander might be annoyed about all of this, but he had no interest wasting time and energy hassling her.

W-345 DAB 0930-1100: Arranging Accommodations

After four hours, Bokessu returned to Medical Care Unit 4 to take guard duty, seeing to the safety of the still-sleeping Psychon, freeing up Tony to meet with Sandra regarding where to put Maya. They moved to Meeting Room CC, near Command Center.

Sandra had a chart of one living quarters section, and had written Maya's name in it, among lots of other names. It would have been easier just giving her an officer's or guest quarters, but the latter was clearly wrong for all the incorrect signals that would give out, and the former was equally inappropriate and would probably incite equally poor reactions for other reasons. Yes, standard lower-level single crew quarters were the right way to go.

At first, Tony argued for settling the Psychon a little further apart. "Isn't there somewhere a little more quiet, near the edge?" he asked. "Like here," he added, pointing to a nearly-empty stretch of rooms. That level's accommodations were small, with many quarters, and there were a lot more gaps at the edges than where Sandra had found a spot.

Sandra looked at him askance, saying, "Why? After what the Commander said yesterday, she needs friends, Tony, not isolation. It would send an awful message to her and everyone else if the officers stuck her off in some corner by herself. My choice will be better for Maya, and in a way, better for everyone, to adapt to her being part of the community."

He expressed concerns about security, but Sandra argued a little more, and he begrudgingly came to see her point. As far as potential danger to Maya, as long as she kept her door locked.... So he accepted her argument. Still, Tony more carefully looked over the chosen location for Maya. None of the people near her room had met Maya yet, but none of the names jumped out at him as a potential threat to the alien, but still.... "This seems okay; but I should bring her to meet each in turn, on neutral ground."

"Neutral ground? They are not at war with each other."

"And maybe a meeting in a professional setting rather than right in someone's personal setting will keep it that way."

"She is going to be living near their 'personal setting' as you call it."

As Sandra had argued further against Tony's semi-isolating Maya, Tony argued further for introducing Maya on neutral ground. In the end, Sandra came to agree with Tony's stand here as he had with her earlier stand.

"Okay," she said, "but I would not present it as an option, just as an introduction to a made decision."

"Agreed. I'll still watch for extreme reactions."

"As will I."

"What do you mean?"

"I think I should come along as well."

"Why?"

"Second pair of eyes, and if necessary -- what is the term in security circles? -- good cop, bad cop?"

"What, you're the bad cop, Sahn?"

"Tony! You know what I mean, and I do not mean it as an insult."

"Yeah, fine, I get what you mean."

"I think I should carry out some of the introductions too."

By 'some,' Tony thought he heard a message of Sandra thinking it best for a woman to carry out the introductions to other women, and Tony carry out the introductions to the men. It made sense to him, so he nodded, and they wrapped up the discussion. As Tony left, he decided that Sandra had actually done a rather good job making the arrangements -- and arguing with Tony. He chuckled. Maybe there was some spark left in her.

After Tony left, Sandra shook her head. Couldn't Tony see Maya had no one and nowhere else to go -- except Alphans and the Moonbase? Though the suspicious type, he did not seem anti-alien per se, just very cautious, and she hoped that was all it was now, and that he would get over it.

As seconds in command, Tony had a very different temperament from Paul. Paul was usually steady, with occasional bursts of emotion, while Tony expressed various emotions yet still seemed to have a steady, even approach and actions. Paul had been the consummate professional, while Tony was prone to lots of wisecracks. Sandra had respected Tony's work in Security, but despite her own reliable judgment about people, had had doubts about the Commander making the Security Officer into his second-in-command.

Yet after the decision was made, and Sandra accepted it for what it was, she had started seeing the wisdom of the Commander's decision. John was hyper-serious, and so had Paul been. They thought a lot alike in some ways, though different in others. The similar thinking made Paul incredibly good as a potential replacement if John should have fallen at some point, and there were others to provide the varying viewpoints; yet now, with so many officers lost, Tony had become the second, and he brought a different set of perspectives.

The discussion she had just had with him prompted her to start understanding more of the Commander's decision. Tony could actually negotiate well, could accept when he was wrong, and could even be diplomatic overall, even while retaining suspicions or poking some light humor into often-serious proceedings.

She was not used to that, though, and found herself having to adjust to yet another change. At least he wasn't overbearing, except.... He had been over her arguing to contact the Commander over Directive 4, though in hindsight, she was starting to doubt herself. She just had not been able to stand the thought of losing so many more people again, and it had overwhelmed her. That was happening a lot now, and she didn't know how to stop it.

W-345 DAB 1100-1400: Nightmares and Files

As Helena was returning to MCU-4, with some material to look over, as well as a form to start filling in, she spotted Tony headed her way, carrying a small stack of papers. He looked a lot more alert than she felt, but she still had more to do yet.

Overnight, after only a couple hours of still surprisingly dreamless sleep, Helena had to perform surgery on Diane Bell. It had progressed as well as she could have hoped for, with some relatively minor organ suture needed, and a little more work to relieve the pressure from the damaged vertebra on the compromised spinal cord. The prognosis on the latter problem was still unknown. Afterwards, she had checked in the handful of other patients still left in Medical Center, found they were all improving, and discharged one.

Now, after having entered the outer room of MCU-4, and getting a verbal report from Cynthia that Maya was still sleeping, albeit restlessly all the way through, Helena got the rest of the report from Cynthia and dismissed her. Verdeschi similarly soon dismissed Bokessu.

Maya's readings were still fairly consistent as yesterday's. Maybe it was normal for a Psychon, or an after-effect of shock. She'd have to get such readings at intervals, for awhile at least, especially as some stress might further wear off.

She turned to see Tony looking at Maya with a guarded expression. Helena decided that confronting and perhaps antagonizing Tony over his suspicions, at least at this point, would serve no one, least of all Maya. Better to save her words for when they might count the most. Instead, Helena simply said, "Let's give her another half hour."

They both settled in to look at some work.

It was twenty minutes of quiet vigil and work when something beeped -- not a commlock, but a medical monitor. Helena checked it, and Tony stood up to look through the window at Maya. She saw Maya's readings were rising. The brain wave patterns were erratic, not any of the patterns Helena had observed so far. Her pulse was up, the blood pressure increasing, and she was starting to breathe faster.

"Looks like she's having a nightmare," Tony observed.

Helena walked over to take a look. "Yes, I was wondering if this would happen."

Its intensity seemed to grow, and she seemed to be mouthing words. Tony turned on the sound monitor, and they got back a stream of choppy alien sentences: "Ina, Addawa! Rana. Psyche sol'eeka kor. Ina, Mentor. Trea'ka! Rana taka maneh. Ranina draktae Mentor! INAAAAA!"

Helena rushed into the room where Maya was, followed by Tony, just as the alien woman started whimpering, gasping, as if struggling. "Easy, Maya, wake up!" Helena called.

"You're safe," Tony added, trying to help while still staying back a bit, but rushing in to help restrain Maya when she started screaming. She jerked up a moment later, opening her eyes wide, looking at them in terror for a moment as her scream continued briefly from nightmare to consciousness. Neither Tony nor Helena consciously noticed Maya's outlines blur slightly for a fraction of a second just as she gained consciousness, but Tony glanced about her for a moment, like he had caught something out of the "corner" of his eye. He promptly dismissed it, at a semi-conscious level, for if she had made some sort of move he thought was threatening, it was momentary, and surely because she had woken up in a state of clear terror.

She then started calming, even as she breathlessly said, "Ohhh. Anra, Helena, Detraziran Verdeschi. Rana seelkor wir--"

"Easy, Maya, easy. You are speaking Psychon," Tony said, wondering vaguely what detraziran meant.

She looked at them, seemingly calming more quickly, taking some breaths, then blinking hard. "Sorry, Helena, Tony. Please--"

"Easy, just calm down some more," Helena said, still restraining Maya.

She did finally start calming, but did not want to discuss the nightmare, understandably enough. She and Tony returned to more work while Maya showered. Helena put in a call to have some additional portable equipment to be brought here. Maya re-emerged a little while later, brushing her damp hair, then settling back in to let Helena run some scans, after which they went to the other room.

Helena was going to ask Tony to leave the room and secure the door, while she got some information from Maya, but she was struck by a thought....

"Maya, do you mind if I ask you some basic questions, to start a medical file with? Nothing very personal yet, just some simple questions."

"Ask me whatever questions you wish," she responded quietly.

"Would you prefer Tony leave the room while you answer?"

Maya looked at the door, then back at Tony, and said, "No, this is fine."

Helena got a distinct impression that though Maya was well aware of Tony's unease with her, she trusted he would protect her regardless, and took some comfort in his presence being more immediate. Helena's main point, though, was for Maya to let Tony listen and Tony hear that Maya had a background, to "humanize" her a little for the semi-suspicious security officer. "Tony, can you get a chair for her to sit on the other side of the desk?" He did so, and was polite about it.

"Okay," Helena said, retrieving a pen from the desk, and quickly rescanning the form, which was one of the World Space Commission Medical Authority forms, rather formal and detailed regarding patient information and history. They could not be filed with the WSCMA any more, but it made for a handy place to jot information and later use to build a computer record as well. Helena had no intention of asking Maya all of these questions immediately and in front of Tony. No need to seem like she was interrogating the Psychon.

So for now, it would start simple. First name was obvious: Maya. Then it promptly stopped being simple. Helena had to wonder how to categorize "Daughter of Mentor" to fit the form -- and the matching fields in the computer record. Last name? Name Title? Name Suffix? Alternate Name didn't fit either. Daughter of Mentor was not a family name, tribal, clannish -- though it was obviously familial. "Maya, how do you use the 'Daughter of Mentor' aspect?"

"Not like your people have multi-part names. It is rarely used. Just in certain highly-formal introductions, infrequently even then -- or where there is ambiguity. It is called... a clarifier. Since the Commander already introduced me with it; that is sufficient, and does not need to be used again. You can just introduce me as Maya from this point."

She eyed Alternate Name again, and when she thought of including "Maya" too, it made perfect sense, so she wrote:

"Maya, Daughter of Mentor" [some frml intros; "clarifier"]

The Gender line was easy. She jotted "Psychon" for Ethnicity. Despite all of recent history, there was still a good reason to note ethnicity in medical records, even back on Earth: racial background sometimes correlated to higher or lower incidence of some diseases and conditions, and occasional differences in physical reaction to treatments.

After having thought about the one question, and not looking up, she blurted out the next question without thinking: "Birth Date?"

Maya similarly blurted out an answer. "Third day of Tayad, 6752. Oh... that means nothing now--"

"It is still your birthday, so it means something," Helena decided, "and I will note it. 6752?" Maya nodded. "But I do need a conversion." Before Helena could even check for a solar-cell calculator in the desk drawer, Maya immediately answered.

"747.7932 rotations of your -- the -- Moon."

"Uh," Tony started, looking surprised, "we don't really count time that way here. Besides, the Moon's rotation has been sped up over time as we encounter planets and such."

Maya paused for awhile, questions on her face, but seemed to hold them in favor of keeping to the topic at hand. "Then is it by that circular chronometer making turns over there from one to one?"

"One to one?" Helena said. "Oh, you mean twelve to twelve?" As soon as she said it, she had to suppress a laugh. MCU-4 was one of the small number of rooms on Alpha with numbered clock faces -- no one was sure why. Helena was not surprised when Maya's brow wrinkled a bit.

"I do? You start counting at twelve?"

"On clocks like that, yes," Tony jumped in. "12, 1, 2, 3, and so on to 11 and then 12 again." Maya still looked puzzled, yet said nothing this time, so he hastily added, "I know it does not make much sense, and don't know why it is that way, but it is traditional for that kind of clock."

"I meant no harm."

"None taken at all."

Before they could explain about other timekeeping systems, Maya gave a new figure: "18919.951 days."

Helena looked at Tony, surprised.

"Maya, how are you calculating these numbers so quickly?" Tony asked.

As if there were nothing strange about it, she said, "I have observed these chronometers for awhile, and know it has been almost four days since Psychon.... So I did a trivial conversion."

Trivial? Tony thought. Lady's got a calculator in her head. But she thinks she left Psychon four days ago...? He abruptly realized why, but Helena beat him to it.

"What Tony neglected to mention is it takes two cycles of the clock -- what you called the circular chronometer -- to make a full day. Unless you're looking at a 24-hour counter. The clock is 12-hour, half a day."

Maya looked bewildered, but soon pushed that aside, saying, "9459.977 days."

To his surprise, Tony felt a little disappointed she had not expressed amusement at human timekeeping. Yet he had to admit she had a fairly expressive face, and got the sense she had not wanted even that little bit of light annoyance get through. Tony was going to have her compute years or even a specific calendar day, but then thought of the Gregorian Calendar, and all its varying month lengths....

The questions on the form only went further, and Helena's eyes skimmed across a sampling: prior physician, a moot point; prior conditions; current medications; past injuries of note; past operations. Helena hoped Maya did not have some prior condition requiring treatment, because that could be something Helena would not be able to help with. The questions were all getting more detailed and personal. More questions for private or later, if at all.

Just as Helena was deciding she had run out of initial questions suitable in this forum, Mathias came in with the initial blood report, so Dr. Russell scanned that quickly.

Maya's blood had clotted with all human ABO blood types, so Helena considered a new type letter, while also noticing Maya had a negative Rh factor. Helena was initially going to designate Type P-, for Psychon, but there could be several Psychon types, just as there were several human types. Not that she was expecting another Psychon to appear at some point, but an alternate occurred to Helena that seemed more pleasing: Y-. A letter that was in both "Psychon" and "Maya." Afterwards, she thought that maybe she should just ask Maya about multiple types, but already satisfied with her choice, decided this could be one of those details that could wait. Besides, the letters 'B' and 'P' were just a little too similar -- another case where Helena didn't want accidental mix-ups, something which in this case could be dangerous and even lethal.

Helena knew Maya would have to be a self-donor, build up a stock of her own blood, in case of later need. Recent developments in blood storage for use during space exploration would allow Helena to accumulate a store of Y- without requiring as frequent a pace of replacement as would have been needed before. Helena would have to work a short- and long-term donation schedule that would both allow a relatively fast build-up early on, slower later, and spread-out replacement, such that within a few years, new draws could be on a regular, occasional interval. This would also have the benefit of there always being some "fresher" units to use in cases of need. Dr. Russell discussed self-donation briefly, and Maya quickly understood and accepted the need. They could start tomorrow or the next day.

Some of the other data seemed close or essentially at human average. Electrolytic balances were remarkably almost identical on all counts, most within or very close to human-norm ranges -- except a potassium level that had maxed out that particular index at several times human norm, which prompted Helena to decide that particular test should be redone, in case it was false hyperkalemia from hemolysis -- blood cells damaged during the blood draw.

It was fascinating mix of similarities with some subtle or obvious differences.

Helena asked Maya if she was ready to eat, and though the verbal response was restrained, she nodded more vigorously, so Helena called for a typical Med Center meal.

Fortunately, the meal arrived not long after. Maya seemed to perk up a little just at the smell of it. She began eating it, and Helena noticing at first very tentatively with each item. Yet Maya was soon eating heartily, and saying, "This is very good!"

Tony could not stop himself this time, giving a restrained guffaw, then letting loose with an open laugh. Maya paused in the middle of bringing a spoonful of broth to her mouth, and looked at him with a most human yet alien look of puzzlement over something most people on Earth would not have been puzzled about. "It's hospital food, Maya. No offense Helena, but I don't know who likes it."

"Mentor and I had limited resources in the shelter," Maya said as she quickly resumed eating. "Enough to feed us well, but with little variety. Mostly just food'bars containing a balanced mix of artificial proteins, carbohydrons, lipids, miscellaneous enhanced nutrients, and... and...."

"Vitamins?" Helena offered.

"I don't know that word. Maybe that's what I mean."

"We can figure it out later. Oh, and it is carbohydrates, not carbohydrons."

"Thank you," Maya said as she started digging more into the mixed vegetables, then added, "Plus some leaves and other natural vegetable matter grown from... a garden I kept."

Tony looked almost horrified. "Okay, I take it back. We don't have the best selection; but suddenly hospital food sounds better than bland bars and an occasional salad. We had those some time back too, the bars I mean. Called 'energy bars' or some such, and I think a few people ate them almost exclusively -- but unlike you, they did it by choice! No replacement for a good platter of lasagna and a heaping salad -- at least you've had that."

"Lasana? No."

"I meant the salad. It's lasagna, by the way. Layers of pasta, tomato sauce, cheeses, and some other vegetables or meat. Well, that's the real thing, but we've had to do some substitutions. Not the same, but still better than bland bars."

Maya looked at Tony with a funny expression as he talked, apparently finding his words -- or his animated tone at least -- amusing even if some of what he talked about was out of her frame of reference. Finally, into a moment of silence, Maya said, with a tentative voice, "I would like to try the... lasagna some time."

Helena stifled a smile. Tony's tone -- at least he's being a little nicer to her now -- had seemed to lighten Maya's grimness just a little more, to bring out a little more genuine interest in something Alphan/Terran. Maya was tentatively extending a bit of herself towards them, and Helena quickly tried to think of something nice to alert Tony before he might trample all over it.

Yet Tony caught the moment, apparently surprised more than anything, and just in time, pausing just as he was probably going to start getting onto the merits of the right wine or even (sadly enough) beer to go with the meal. "Sure, I'll find out when it is next on the menu of one of the cafeterias. Like I said, it's hardly the best, but I can vouch for it being three steps or more above what you are eating."

Helena wished Tony would offer to try preparing some of his own lasagna, which was quite tasty by Alphan standards. A large batch of that shared by the current group and a couple others could make for a nice event. Helena decided Tony's current offer, however, was still a small step in the right direction.

W-345 DAB 1300-1500: Accumulating Inaccuracies

Astrophysicist Douglas McLeod was annoyed. Someone just had to have measured the Moon's new rotation rate incorrectly.

It had happened before. Lunar rotation changes had occurred due to passing by planets or the Moon being jarred by unexpected course changes. Miscalculations had occurred before, as well.

The Moon's travels were strange, and though some factors were known via simple equations, others were approximations -- complicated approximations. Besides that, the more objects added to the calculations, the longer they took, exponentially. There had been no Lunar Course calculations while the Moon was still in orbit. Telescope tracking equations were known. All of that had changed after Breakaway. Douglas had spent most of a year reworking equations, starting with the most critical first, then refining them and others as time went on -- in part with Professor Bergman and others, in part on his own. He had spent a lot of time interacting with David Kano on programming. Refinements had been made, and some "chicken and egg" problems meant some approximations were still being improved a little at a time, bouncing around and improving one set, then the next, then several more, until the "first" set needed further improvements. It was all fascinating yet sometimes infuriating at the same time.

Lunar rotation had been a strange wildcard in all of this, and despite the seemingly simple aspect of recalculation, not being in a fixed orbit did add some other difficulties, and some specific calculation runs had been known to be in error.

He was about to duly restart the rotation calculations, himself this time, when another astronomer, based elsewhere on Alpha and remotely monitoring a satellite-based telescope currently over the other side of the Moon, called in to complain his telescope wasn't tracking well among the features of the gigantic blue nebula spread out ahead and to the left of their path. Of course, it was not hard to find that nebula overall, since it was already spread across 16 degrees of the sky ahead of them, despite it being some distance away yet, but the astronomer wanted to look at various aspects of it in particular, and he was complaining of tracking problems.

Of course, the satellites' orbits were affected by the same forces that imparted more spin to the Moon. In their cases, their orbits were sped up, which thus increased their orbit sizes, each one in a slightly different way due to various factors.

The Moon's strange travels kept astrophysicists busy recalculating everything -- even with Main Computer's help.

Before finishing the discussion with the astronomer, Douglas asked him to pipe in the nebula image. This observation room had one of the rare high-quality, larger-sized color monitors, and he just wanted to see something nice-looking before fully plunging back into headache in front of him.

The extensive nebula was a beautiful blue hue, lit up as it was by a number of blue stars seemingly sprinkled in "front" of it. They had seen it for some time already, well before the 6-light-year space warp that had landed the Moon close to the edge of Psychon's star system. At this moment, even on wide view, the nebula barely fit in the view of the small satellite telescope.

There was no official name for it, just a provisional NN330AD -- New Nebula (discovered) 330 (DAB), fourth of that day. Most newly discovered objects never had anything more than a provisional name, but this one had already made enough of an impression that someone had dubbed it Big Blue, after its enormous size and color. They were going to approach but pass well to the "right" of it, affording prime observation -- assuming they didn't drop into another space warp or something first. "Big Blue" was hardly a good formal reference for that type of feature, however, and Douglas didn't like it. He idly wondered if their new resident had a name for it, since it would have been one of the most obvious features in Psychon's sky.

W-345 DAB 1430-1630: Schedule Shell

Sandra called up an order to be ready to prepare a single lower-level living quarters for Maya, but left out the room number. The room was chosen, but she and Tony still had to take Maya to meet her potential new neighbors, and there could be a serious problem. Besides, a firm room number for 'the alien' would spread like wildfire and defeat what she and Tony were intending to do.

She then considered the difference between Lunar Time and a Psychon day. Sandra assumed it was too large for Maya to just adapt to the latter, so she ran a few numbers, found a pleasing combination that seemed to make the most sense, then realized that was all she had, a ratio, since she had no idea how much time a Psychon sleeps, or other such details. She would have to ask.

She then looked up the planned schedules for Maya's intended neighbors, called up an order for a commlock, and called Bill Fraser and put him on standby to take a photograph of Maya.

The birth of babies had sometimes necessitated some room changes for the new families, but babies did not get commlocks, did not need any access information, or whole living quarters to themselves. Alpha had become a closed society. The Kaldorians had been temporary guests. Dione had not remained on Alpha long. Balor had been thrown out -- literally.

This was the first new adult resident needing a commlock since Breakaway, and somehow, it felt refreshing, and Sandra had decided to see to a few more of the details than usual -- the tasks she had mostly delegated with the frequent comings and goings pre-Breakaway. It was a welcome change from the grim reality of overseeing the disassembling of the organization surrounding a person after his or her death, something which she had already started doing and delegating with the four recent deaths.

Finally, with the commander now present, she talked to him briefly, then headed down to Medical Care Unit 4, to see if Maya was awake yet, deciding even if she wasn't, maybe someone else had gotten a few more details.

Maya was surprised and pleased that Tony had responded well to her curiosity about lasanga, but when Helena's commlock beeped, Maya stiffened a little. Tony was suddenly staring at her. He didn't seem to like sudden moves from mostly-unfamiliar aliens, so she explained. "It startled me... a little."

"Of course," he said, but the smile was gone from his face. Maya was jumpy. Tony was jumpy when she was. As she had thought, this would not be so easy.

"Sandra Benes is here," Helena said. "You met her yesterday, in Command Center."

"I remember Sandra," Maya said.

Sandra walked in. It was a cordial greeting, and then Sandra proceeded. "I am here to help with a schedule. The conversion is that our day has exactly 24 hours, while yours is 33.464 hours."

"Sandra, that is very kind to offer, but I can try adapting to your schedule."

"Maya," Helena started saying, "that is a very different schedule. If your day were 20-25 of our hours, that would be one thing, but 33 hours?"

"I can try."

"Have you ever had to get up a few hours -- or whatever equivalent you had -- early?"

"Sure, lots of times...." Her response slowed at the end.

"Was it easy?"

"Ah... no, not really."

"This would be over 9 hours early each day. Can you really imagine getting up 9 of our hours earlier, each and every day? Do you really think you'll be efficient and useful that way?"

Actually, put that way -- Maya wondered why she had missed that easy point -- it sounded rather horrible. She had a lot in front of her to adjust to, and not having to change her sleep cycle sounded like one less worry. She tempered her response, merely shaking her head in response to Helena's question, then turned to Sandra and apologized.

"For what?" the woman asked with confusion.

"You were doing something needed and I interrupted with an unintended falsity."

Sandra looked puzzled, and then said, "No need to apologize." Sandra paused, then resumed her prior line of logic. "I checked a few scenarios, and the best actually seems a five-seven combination."

"Oh, I see! That leaves only 40.8-minute differential."

"You noticed the 5/7 ratio already?"

"No," Maya said, puzzled. "You just mentioned it."

Sandra looked at Helena, and said, "She is very fast."

"Yeah," Tony said, "Helena and I already noticed."

Maya finally realized what their odd reactions meant. They were not as fast in mental calculation. She blushed and dipped her head a little, realizing that maybe--

"Maya," Sandra said. "That is a fine talent, not something to be ashamed of."

"Okay," Maya said quietly.

"That way, we are all still on a one-week schedule, even though your days don't match. It is Wednesday...." Sandra said, trailing off at the end.

"Whens day? I do not understand." Why was Sandra asking which day of their week it was?

"The seven days of our week have names," Tony said. "Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday."

"Are sun, mon, two, whens, thurs, fri, and satur a radix 7 system's numbers?"

"Uh... no." Tony responded. "They're based on Latin, I think, from the Italian peninsula a couple millennia ago. Named after the Sun, Moon, and... er, wait."

"I think they were Germanic or Nordic," Helena said.

"Yeah, maybe you're right -- unless they got it from the Romans."

"I think you are both right," Sandra said. "Latin origin, German borrowing, and the Norse substituted some, like Thursday -- Thor's Day."

"Thor was probably just Jupiter," Tony said. "Hammer instead of lightning bolts."

Maya had completely ceased to understand their conversation, which for some reason had now flowed to inexplicably talking about construction tools replacing atmospheric phenomena.

The conversation eventually became clear again, Sandra asking about her sleep schedule. Maya gave the typical 4/6/1/5 ratio of long'sleep, first'part, brief'sleep, and second'part, all converted precisely to Alphan time systems -- to the fourth decimal digit.

Sandra had written a couple of things down as Maya spoke, then looked it over, and looked up. "Can we round a little? 8.5 hours of sleep, 12.5 hours awake, 2.0 hours of a nap, 10.5 awake?"

"That would be fine," Maya said. "Except it leaves 0.5 hours unaccounted for in the... week cycle."

"That is okay. I will account for that, maybe call it leap time or something. You can use it for sleep or whatever you feel like that week. When do you eat?" Sandra quickly asked.

"A larger meal not long after I wake up, something half its size shortly before mid'sleep -- nap -- something larger a third into second'part, and then something very light before long'sleep -- sleep."

"Sounds like breakfast, lunch, supper, and a snack to me," Tony said.

"So you have four meals too?"

"The first three are meals," Helena said. "We occasionally snack, but at more random times, and only if needed. Not everyone does, either."

"Ah," Maya said, in this case accepting but not really understanding the apparent randomness of a snack. If that was the word, though, she'd use it, even if her meaning was more fixed in nature.

"I will draw up a sleep/wake schedule and print several copies. I am also arranging your quarters."

"Quarters of what?"

Sandra smiled in an amused yet kind way. "It is just called living quarters. A room of your own."

Maya nodded. Not long after that, Sandra left.

Moments later, another of Helena's commlock beeps startled Maya a little, and again had Tony looking at her with what she could only assume was suspicion. If she was going to be jittery about every little sensory surprise for awhile, it seemed he was going to remain jumpy around her for awhile, and repeating the explanation would be redundant.

"Okay, it's Joan."

She recognized the name as an apparent alternate name'form of Janina.

Janina came in with an enthusiastic, "Hello, Maya," and greeted the others as well. Whereas Sandra was quiet'friendly, Janina was loud'friendly. Either mode was as perfectly welcome to Maya as the other. The Alphan word effusive suddenly came to mind as a more compact replacement word in Alphan for loud'friendly.

Janina was carrying a moderate-sized box, and soon handed it to Maya, saying, "These are for you. Some Alphan clothing, including a uniform, just your size -- I hope. I am not an expert tailor, but a nuclear physicist."

"I received that information from Helena yesterday... about being a physicist."

"Then I imagine you are wondering why a nuclear physicist would be a clothes tailor."

"No," Maya answered. "Should I be?"

Janina laughed, said, "No, maybe I shouldn't be either," and turned away to look at Helena, who shrugged, while Tony chuckled.

Maya looked at them in turn, but did not reply. She didn't have the slightest idea what that subconversation had been about. They were apparently ascribing some additional meaning Maya was not in the knowledge'space for. Yet it did not seem to require her further attention either.

A few minutes later, in the bath'room, she went from looking at herself in an almost formless medical uniform to a very nicely-fitting Alphan-standard uniform. Oddly, as alien as both were, the latter was much more pleasing than the first uniform. Both had strange fabrics, but neither was uncomfortable. At least this fit her very well, making her more presentable to the general public. Presentable, she thought, looking at her own face, normal as it was to her and strange to them, but then quickly to her hair.

She was still troubled that the Alphan females seemed to do little with her hair -- that she had seen so far anyway. She supposed she could do an arrangement without any hidden or visible pins or clips, but that would take longer. Or maybe she should put some of her hair over her eyebrows. No, I am who I am, and trying futilely to hide it serves no purpose.

Tony waited impatiently. Maya already seemed to be like any other woman regarding taking forever in the bathroom.

Then the door slid open, and out stepped Alpha Maya, and Tony found her, once again, very striking. Seen in human-style clothing, she again seemed even more human -- from the neck down. Yet even the strange yet compellingly attractive face.... He didn't know what to think. Tall, slim, yet still quite shapely. She looked surprisingly good in a uniform. So why did he wish she were in her own dress instead? Maybe it was too strange to see her as a potential Alphan, instead of the alien she was. Yes, that just had to be it.... What a weird day this is, an alien in Alphan clothing. But what else was there to do?

"Oh, Maya, you look great," Joan said.

"Absolutely," Helena affirmed.

Then both women looked at Tony, followed by Maya's eyes too. Oh, damn. "Not bad," he said after a too-long pause.

"Not bad?" Helena said in mock outrage -- or maybe not so mock.

"Okay, very nice," he said, mixing in a little of his initial reaction, as much as it was also setting him a bit on edge that his feelings were conflicting about her looking nice in Alphan style yet also reminding him that she was still an alien -- and this was the first time one was dressing this way.

Where is Tony the charmer? Helena thought with annoyance.

"Thank you, everyone," Maya said, then walked towards Helena, holding out the box and saying, "Here is the medical blues uniform."

Helena almost laughed at Maya's curious phrasing, wondering where she had picked it up. "Actually," she started as she took the box, "we also wear them as clothing to bed. Pajamas. We'll get them washed and make sure it gets to you later, maybe with some more clothes too."

"Oh, you know what, that reminds me," Joan started. "I need to run for a second. Give me that box, please, Doctor. I'll be right back."

Seconds later, it was not Joan but Sandra who returned. Sandra looked a bit surprised for a moment at Maya's "transformation," then said, "You look very nice, Maya."

Sandra walked up to Maya and giving her a card, before handing out two to Helena and Tony in turn. It was a sleep/wake schedule, Maya's daily life, on a card. Or at least the shell of a life.

Helena's commlock beeped. This time, Maya did not startle at all, perhaps having been expecting Joan to return. Indeed, it was Joan, who had returned with a tiny box. She handed it to Maya, saying, "I didn't know how often you would need or want these."

Maya opened the box, and she promptly smiled a little, the expression growing a bit wider as she put her fingers in the box and moved what sounded like a lot of little things inside. Tony looked at Maya and the box.

"Oh, Janina, how wonderful and thoughtful!" Maya said.

"What is it?" Tony demanded, not gruffly, but firmly.

"Hairpins, clips, ties, bands, things like that," Joan explained. "I had a few extras in storage, and asked a few women if they could spare some more. I just forgot to bring them with the clothes."

Maya looked a little surprised. "Oh, they didn't have to--"

"They wanted to. These are yours now."

The Psychon returned to her chair, and looked up to say, "That is extremely generous. Please thank them for me."

Helena found Maya's thinking such a small -- though promising -- gesture as extremely generous was a little sad, but it was a good sign from presumably at least a few Alphan women, and it was at least cheering Maya up.

Just then, Helena realized she had almost missed something. She decided to excuse herself and get it on her own. Wrist monitors were not worn as much as they used to be. Components had to be taken from some of them for various reasons, and they were wearing out faster than expected. Despite her misgivings, she had little choice but to drastically scale back their usage to people holding certain jobs, patients with conditions needing monitoring away from Medical Center, or other special cases -- to try to make the remaining pool of the devices last as long as possible.

She retrieved one, tested its function, programmed its number, altered some alarm ranges and other factors -- these devices were more flexible than many medical devices, since these had direct interaction with Main Computer -- then brought it to MCU-4. "Maya, this is a medical monitor. It sends readouts of a few fundamentals through Main Computer. They are usually used to watch for problems, but for a limited time I have set it to gather some baseline information as well. I would like you to wear this on your wrist for at least a week, under the sleeve of your shirt or pajamas, except in the shower. They aren't as waterproof as they are supposed to be." Helena showed her how to activate and de-activate it. "Also, you are medically cleared to try eating various foods. Just don't overdo it, and report any problems."

As Maya put the monitor on her wrist, Helena then released her patient, stating a return visit would be arranged for tomorrow. There would have to be follow-up readouts taken, more questions, and more scans.

W-345 DAB 1600-2200: Quarters, Commlocks, Community?

Tony left Med Care Unit 4 with Maya on his left side, and Sandra leading them towards the first person she picked for an introduction. They had no trouble finding her.

Tony let Sandra carry out the introduction, while he held back, watching Sally but more from the side, while also taking in Maya's reaction. He was as casual as he could be about it, even though it was not casual at all.

"Sally, this is Maya. Maya, this is Sally Martin." It went well, despite the slight bit of caution from Sally and the resulting slight bit of typical caution from Maya -- who seemed to read nervousness almost too well compared to some other human reactions.

"We will be settling Maya in the open room next to you." The subtext was clear: Maya was going here, and the officers expected her new neighbors to be accommodating, even if not necessarily 100% happy about it. Tony doubted there would be complete happiness about it, but Tony was looking for more extreme responses.

"Oh, that would be nice," Sally said in a not-entirely-convinced voice. It was a polite but tepid -- yet far from hostile -- response to the idea. Tony could accept that. Having an alien living on the base was going to be new enough, but he wasn't going to be one living close to Maya. Sally was; and her response was understandible and of no concern to Tony.

There were similar responses from the next two, both men, one somewhat cautious yet curious, yet more comfortable looking at Sandra, while the second seemed more than just comfortable looking at Maya. Tony could hardly blame the man. Despite her alien appearance, she was rather unexpectedly attractive. Maya seemed to take no particular notice of that, which was just as well, Tony thought, in avoiding more awkwardness.

More people netted more mixed reactions, one man seeming to more or less sigh in resignation, three others more welcoming, two of them even thanking Maya. Finally, a couple hours after this process had started, they found the last in a cafeteria. He was harder to read, studiously neutral yet seemingly not threatening; and Tony decided to keep an eye out, even though it seemed more like a muted version of Tony's own attitude.

When it was all done, Sandra moved to Tony's side, and whispered, "Okay for the room, I think."

He looked at her, and nodded. She stepped aside to call in the number, while he stepped over to Maya and said, "It is perfect. This is at the end of the usual time for supper, and I think it would be for you too," Tony said, getting the schedule card out of his pocket.

"Yes, I am hungry again," was Maya's distracted answer as Tony noticed her eyes flitting about, clearly noticing the number of people around, even though the ranks were thin as most finished eating. Tony put the card back away. She was attracting a lot of looks and stares, some seeming fine, some mildly annoyed, one mildly hostile but guarding himself, several men openly curious. When Tony would look at any of them, they'd look away. A quick glance at Maya showed she seemed to be taking all the stares as bad news. She didn't like being stared at, or just couldn't interpret the various looks well and just saw stares. Fortunately, the crowd seemed to be dispersing more quickly. No one approached. The commander's brief but well-chosen words about introductions over time had apparently worked, allowing a better timetable.

He chose a table that had been cleared of clutter, at the edge, so he could keep an eye on the room, and sat down with Maya.

"I will bring you some food," Sandra said, eliciting another "thank you" from Maya.

Sandra returned a few minutes later with a meal for Maya, then went back for more. Maya, though seeming ready to eat, held back, apparently out of a sense of politeness that surprised him. In the meantime, he described Sandra's choices of food, then listed Maya's room number, and briefly described the location. He didn't describe the room further, since Maya would see it soon enough.

Sandra returned with another tray and split the dishes between her and Tony. Tony looked at her plate, then at her. Was Sandra eating less, or was she always a light eater?

She noticed his look. "Probably won't be much time," she said. "I'll have a snack later."

Tony nodded. One of Sandra's personnel came in with a commlock, looked around, then headed right for their table. She delivered the commlock and an ID badge to Sandra, then left. Sandra handed the commlock to Maya. "There you go, Maya, your very own ID badge and commlock."

Sandra headed to one of the residential blocks, after a stop to retrieve Maya's jewelry from temporary storage. Earlier, Sandra had rustled up an actual jewelry box donated for general use when its owner had died. Not that Alphans wore much jewelry, or that often, except for infrequent special occasions or small parties. Still, Maya had jewelry too, so it was only fair she had a box for it.

On reaching Maya's newly-prepared quarters, she found that sure enough, they had been quick. Maya had no personal effects except what was in Sandra's hands and what Joan Conway was taking care of for the moment, so it had been just moving in some additional furniture, cleaning up what small amount of dust gathered despite Alpha's efficient air filtration system, and some other details.

Sandra set the small box of jewelry on the low cabinet of drawers on the far side of the room. Then she walked back to the desk, and immediately checked the desk monitor. These lower-deck single non-officer quarters did not have the dual wall monitors sometimes used for impromptu conference calling; here, there was just one wall monitor and the usual desk monitor. Here, both had the multi-A standby pattern, with Maya's name embedded in the center lines. At the desk, she pressed the 'λ' button for logon, and was presented with a prompt. All of this confirmed Maya was set up, Computer-wise.

Maya was not really expecting much. A tiny and simple room with a bed, a closet, a bath'room, small table and chair maybe, and nothing more. What greeted her, while not as large as her own in the shelter on Psychon, was twice as large as she expected. "Oh, how wonderful!" Maya exclaimed as she walked in. What she thought might be a bed was unusually curved, which she did not understand, but there was actually a pair of lounge chairs and a small between'table, which even had some curious sculpture on it. There was a desk with room to write or read and also including a computer monitor and key'board, a closet, a storage cabinet with drawers, and some vertical unit she did not understand.

"Very spacious!" she said.

Tony seemed a little amused. "Well, it is only a single lower-level quarters, smallest we've got."

"It is larger than I expected," she said absently as she walked up to a wall'picture she had just noticed, of an interesting geometrical pattern. Another thing she had not expected: artwork on the walls.

"Larger?" Tony asked.

She realized she hadn't meant to mention anything implying her expectations, and was going to apologize for mentioning it, but then she saw another wall'picture, hanging above a cabinet. She walked over, and then just stared at it, transfixed. Rolling hills, grasses, stands of trees, distant animals, hints of birds in trees. She drew in her breath, and tears came to her eyes.

"We can exchange it if you prefer," Sandra said.

"No," Maya said with surprising firmness. "I grew up in a hilly region. Triska Hills region of the Manos Province."

"Does this remind you of it?"

Maya nodded tightly. "Different, but similar also. So much of Manos was dying even when I was young, but its Triska region was one of those that stayed almost pristine the longest."

She looked around some more. There were plants on both the desk and a tiny table next to the bed, another uniform hanging in the closest, a plain box sitting on the bed, and a more decorative one on the cabinet. The wall color was strange, and the bed odd, yet there was social warmth, such as what she had seen, and the extra chairs like they expected her to have visitors. It was all hers, and she was grateful. Her father had done horrible things to these Alphans, including killing four of them, and despite her own actions, she had not expected this much of a positive response.

Sandra indicated Janina had brought the second uniform and another was on the way, probably tomorrow. She explained the commlock charger, some items in the bath'room, the basics of the computer terminal, Maya's "temporary password" for logging into it, Tony adding some information while patiently standing or sitting.

Maya must have been letting some fatigue show, for Sandra abruptly said, "You look like you could use some time to settle in for a little while before you go to bed. If you want, feel free to logon and explore the computer on your own. Just work your way through whatever options you feel like, and I can give you more explanation tomorrow. Here are some overlays. Many of the keys are multi-modal; but for now, just stay with the green overlay, and also avoid this keyswap button for now. If you get lost, just hit the omega button here and it will completely reset to the logon screen and original key sequence again. Does that all make sense?"

"Confirmed."

"Is this room secured now?" Tony asked Sandra too.

"Yes, I activated new resident protocol."

"Okay," Tony said. "What that means, Maya, is that you are now the only one normally authorized to enter this room, and you have to decide whether to let others in. Unless it is someone like Sandra, myself, Helena, or Commander Koenig, you should probably just politely refuse."

"I also trust Alan, Bill, and Janina," Maya offered.

"Well... okay... that's good." He paused, then continued. "There are a few exceptions where access is allowed, in case of emergency, but even those are recorded, so that...." There were a few minutes of explanation, and they solicited questions from Maya, which she had a few she considered important enough to ask now. She realized this system actually seemed well-suited to her safety, yet offered her a chance to show trust. She quietly decided she'd leave her door unlocked to those she already trusted. That even included Tony: he might not trust her entirely, and she was still was a little concerned about that; but the way he kept looking out for her safety otherwise had convinced her he really did not want to harm her. Besides, they still had to "give an electronic knock" -- a curious phrase but which she understood from context.

They then showed her the narrow, very vertical thing. It was a food station, and had: a small food'cooler called a refrigeratorfreezer ("Or just fridge," Tony added as he opened it up to show the plate of food in the lower portion); a hot'plate; some empty storage shelves; as well as dishes, cups, utensils, and such; and a microwave whose principles, when she asked a few questions, sounded remarkably similar to one of Psychon's most ancient food-cooking technologies which had still been in use up to Psychon's end. The circuitry and emitters would likely be different, but with similar purposes... oh, if only I could compare the two by taking this one apart and analyzing it... she thought as she stared at the device.

W-345 DAB 2200-2400: What Now?

John, sitting in his chair in Command Center, looked at the card print-out of the schedule Sandra had arranged for Maya. At first, he wasn't sure he liked the lack of synchronization for one he hoped would become a key team member, but when he thought about the more than 33-hour rotation period of Psychon, he had to admit it made some sense.

It was late, but he still had a little more to do, and instructed Bill to set up a two-hour de-briefing for early tomorrow afternoon. "Myself, Tony, Helena, Alan, Sandra. You'll be called in at some point as well." Then he instructed him to arrange another two-hour meeting for the late afternoon. "Tony, Helena, Maya, and me."

John leaned back in his chair and looked at the Big Screen, which still showed Psychon's star. Psychon's debris had long since thinned and with increasing distance shrunk to unresolvable sizes as the Moon traversed the rest of the system, soon to go interstellar.

"No signs of activity?" he asked even as Bill set up the schedule.

"No, sir," Bill said; then, taking the hint in the question, put the screen in standby mode before resuming the prior orders.

Meanwhile, John thought again about his hopes for Maya, and Tony's mixed reaction to her, and how complicated Tony could make group discussion of that. John frowned, then leaned forward to punch up Tony's commlock number. Active Standby was the return from Main Computer. Tony had not yet retired for the night, so John called him up, found he and Sandra were just wrapping up settling Maya into her quarters, and called him to a meeting.

Ten minutes later, they were meeting, a "speak freely" session as usual, for the honest and blunt exchange of opinions so valuable ideas weren't lost.

John immediately launched into his intent to make Maya the Science Advisor if talking with her tomorrow further confirmed his strong impression that she was very technically adept.

Tony's eyebrows raised. "Oh?"

"It seems to me the best way to find out the depth of her scientific knowledge is to get her talking to various people, mainly department leaders at first."

"Well, I guess the title doesn't matter so much as various people having the chance to interrogate her about what she knows."

John frowned, feeling his temper starting to rise. "You're the second person who has used that term in regard to her. I meant talking to her -- with her."

"Isn't that splitting hairs, John? Besides, isn't that the point, now that we have an alien of our own, to find out all she knows?"

Hoping the young officer's words were merely poorly chosen, he responded, "Tony, you're right to a degree, regardless of her character. If she were of bad character, confined to a cell, maybe some simple interrogation would be in order. If she were merely of abrasive character but could still help, she'd get a room and we'd put up with her and treat her with respect if nothing else. Fact is, she is of good character, so the point is to give her a new home and see how we can work together to improve all of our chances."

"Well, I did not mean otherwise."

"Are you sure? Because I know you've had a mixed reaction to her, so when you say 'interrogate' regarding Maya...."

"Well, I don't mean it in that way."

"And I did not mean it to be that in any way. Think talk, two-way, not interrogate. I am not usually picky about terminology, but--"

Tony raised his hand, "Okay, you're right, poor choice of words." Then, more calmly: "What do you have in mind?"

"Four-hour discussion sessions, each department head discussing what they do, the department does, the technology--"

"With all due respect, and as much as I hate to say it: Moonbase Alpha is probably primitive junk to her."

"Maybe, but how many of us are really good at making fire without practice?"

"I didn't mean that primitive, but point taken. What then?"

"Well, I am hoping she would begin giving her opinions or thoughts based on what she knows, maybe brainstorm some with them, or on her own."

"Or both sides doing so, then and after the meeting?"

"Exactly," John said. "Get a two-way discussion started. Four hours will probably not be enough for anyone, and it will take time for both participants to think through what each side learns."

Tony guffawed. "Days? Years? Forever?"

"Maybe. Maybe all of that, varying by topic. I hope for a process, a dialog, cooperation, friendship -- or at least professionalism -- to be fostered."

"Hmmm. But John, to call her Science Advisor? You know how some people are going to react. I did not know Victor as well as many, but... well, maybe we should pick a different designation."

"Why? It succiently explains most of the intent, and is actually closer to Victor in the role than how we used the title for Lew. Besides, I knew Victor well, and I suspect he would have welcomed her as an additional science advisor immediately."

Tony looked dubious, apparently not so much about whether Victor would have blessed that so much as whether others would accept it, so John got more direct. "I understand what you are trying to say, but the title says what I want. Yes, Lew came in with some direct departmental oversight within Technical, whereas Victor, as much as he acted in an officer's role in Main Mission, had no direct formal oversight within Technical but was consulted -- and gave consultations -- on virtually everything scientific, or at least listened even if not an area of expertise for him. I want that same exchange with Maya. Besides all that, I would rather start facing any backlash against her, directly, when needed, than dance around it."

Tony paused, then said, "You may have a point. Fine, I will keep an eye out for these kind of reactions too."

"Good. Oh, and it may not hurt for you to attend some of these sessions too, with anyone you see giving a more hesitant welcome, or where you can gain some greater knowledge of some of these departments."

"Are you reminding me of my incomplete high-level cross-training?"

Tony's PhD hardly gave him complete coverage in Alpha's various departments, and both men knew it was a rhetorical question, so John merely nodded.

"Maybe I or a guard should just attend every such session," Tony mused.

"No, not every session. That would send out the wrong message to everyone, including Maya herself. Use your judgment about where there is an actual problem, or where your time is well-spent listening."

John was going to table scheduling discussion, since it was late, but Tony continued.

"Actually, I have an idea," Tony said. "I have no idea why this particular piece of equipment, but the way she looked at the microwave in her room, it seemed like she wanted to take it apart or something. Maybe she should talk to an electrical engineer first."

At least Tony was offering helpful advice, despite his qualms. "Excellent suggestion. You have a name in mind?"

"Uh.... Maybe van der Mir. I think he's actually taught before, his lab is always full of circuit boards and opened devices to show, and I'm guessing he'd probably be good natured about... her."

"Okay, we'll start there, but save the scheduling for now. When they actually meet, take him aside, explain it all, and have him scare up an electrical toolkit or something for her. Tell him he can give it to her whenever he feels comfortable she knows enough to use it properly and safely."

"To her directly? She'll probably do just that."

"Do what?"

"Take apart the microwave in her room."

"Encourage her. As long as she thinks she can put it back together, and not start a fire either, let her play around and get proficient. Or see if van der Mir has a damaged unit."

"Aren't we getting ahead of ourselves?"

"Maybe. We'll find out some more tomorrow."

Maya sat in her room, feeling relieved to have a little quiet privacy for the first time in days, but feeling more completely alone than ever. She looked around again, already missing the pleasing orange wavelengths she was used to seeing in dwellings. The architectural metaphor was just so alien....

Though fatigued, she was not tired enough to go to bed, so she stood up and walked about, not having any idea what to do next. She took notice of a few more things in her room.

The book'shelves had a couple books written in Alphan, on varying topics.

On the low cabinet of drawers sat a decorative box. She opened it up, and gasped a little to see her own hair'pins on top and, when looking a level further below, her pendant. A jewelry'box. She picked up the pendant and held it for quite a few moments. One of the few things she had left of her former life. She set it back away and closed the box.

On the desk, there was a plant with a lovely open flower and several large buds. She had noticed it before, but now took a closer look. It was in a beautiful vase. She found it a pleasant surprise that she was being offered lovely plants in lovely vases here too. She felt the plant's leaves and sensed its molecular patterns, leaned down and smelled its flower's delicate, pleasant fragrance.

"What about after the introductory phase?" Tony started asking. "Would she stay Science Advisor? That we keep that role after all? If she knows a lot, I cannot see a few little sessions, even a whole bunch over weeks, and such, being the end."

"Well, if she shows knowledge or skills learning various disciplines, she might make for a good science officer."

"Oh, no, are you kidding? Science Officer?"

"Why not? Because she is an alien?"

"No.... Well, yes -- and no. You want to give a job with oversight and authority to a girl with probably limited interpersonal skills, much less management skills, who is an alien, and who might not get along with most of the people she would oversee?"

"Outside talent?"

Tony guffawed, saying, "Yeah, and you know how well that tends to go over in corporate environments."

"Sometimes well."

"So you say."

"But say it does and say she shows expertise in most areas, and is an asset on missions...."

"Asset on missions? Oh, I suppose she might be able to interpret some things faster than we have, in some cases, but I don't know, she doesn't strike me.... Hey, I get the impression that Mentor and Maya were alone down there."

"Yes, for a few years at least, I think."

"Not exactly mission-grade experience, science wiz or not."

"How many of our people going on missions for the first time--"

"I know where you're going, but they had drive to get to Alpha in the first, even if they are sometimes lab-bound personalities. Maya's only here because she has nowhere else to go."

Tony droned out a couple more concerns, almost as run-on sentences, but John virtually ignored him, realizing it was time.... There was no good time, and Tony wasn't easing up on Maya; but still.... He let Tony's last protest, for the moment, go by. "I think she could be a lot more useful on missions than just a science officer." He paused, then said, "Maya is a metamorph."

"A metamorph," Tony said flatly. "What the hell is a metamorph?"

"She can transform herself into the form of other biological forms for limited periods of time."

For a fraction of a second, Tony looked at him like John had just confirmed the Moon was made of cheese. Then.... "You're serious? Tell me you're not serious." John held Tony's questioning gaze, and the latter gave him a strange look, looked away for a moment, then back, looking like he was holding back anger. "God, John, why the hell didn't you tell me I was walking around with and guarding a total security nightmare?"

"No, you have been walking around with Maya."

"How does one guard against-"

"Does it change anything? I already told everyone what she did for us."

That made Tony pause, but only for a moment. "John, I still wish you had told me right away," Tony protested. "Why didn't you just tell everyone right away when you announced her?"

"For the same reason you are having trouble with it. She was already going to have two strikes against her in most people's minds almost immediately: that she is a Psychon, and that she is Mentor's daughter."

"Okay, right," Tony said after a long pause, and with a neutral tone, as if saying, I get your point, but I'm still Security Officer and it is still my job to be cautious. "So her being a metamorph would add a third strike," Tony still said, with the same tone. "So let me guess, that you're not going to tell most people until a week or so from now, until some have gotten to know her somewhat, and maybe vouch for her."

Perceptive, on this, John thought. "Exactly. Hopefully by then people will be calmed down, some will know her, some of them will hopefully stick up for her. Try it now, and we might have a lot more trouble."

"Your hiding it for awhile will rankle some."

"I won't wait long, and I will make it clear it was my choice, not her hiding it from all of us."

"That might save her some grief, though not all, over the delay, but cost you some."

"My prerogative to sometimes make unpopular decisions," John said, "and ours to keep some information classified for a time. That includes from your people as well."

This clearly rankled the Security Officer. "Now wait a second, John, she's a security risk, plain and simple, and--"

"I told you--"

"What if she snaps under the stress?"

"What if any of us snaps?"

"Are you kidding? We're not... metamorphs. We can't just suddenly turn into... whatever the hell she feels like."

"Tony, she is not going to attack us."

Tony said nothing, and for awhile, neither did John, until the former finally said something. "Okay, what happens if someone attacks her, gets through a guard, and she feels compelled to defend herself metamorphly... metamorphically? The guard may be as likely to shoot her as defend her."

John realized Tony had a point, regardless of all his other misgivings. "Okay, so who would you trust with this -- including to keep it quiet for now?"

Tony suggested Bokessu, and he was soon called in. The guard's eyes goggled a bit at the news, but quickly recovered, and assured the Commander and First Officer that he understood, and would keep it quiet.

"One more thing," John said after Bokessu left. "No asking her for random demonstrations. She's not a zoo animal. Er, you know what I mean." A metamorph was certainly going to mess up some metaphors.

To his credit, Tony held any jokes, though he gave John a long look. "I'm not sure I want to see that until there is reason anyway," he said. "Okay," Tony said after a few seconds of silence. "So where were we before you told me our new resident has about the freakiest power I've heard of yet? Okay, that didn't come out well; but give me a little time to absorb it. Oh, so that's the extra help on missions you were talking about? Someone who can turn into... what, animals? I'm not sure I get it."

"You just got done telling me what a 'total security nightmare' she could be, and--"

"Okay, withdrawn. Fine, even I can see the potential benefit of a... metamorph who can out-think Computer -- as long as we can trust her in both ways."

"I do. And if that is not enough for you, she gave up everything for our sake. Why would she go back on that?"

"Maybe if she finds she does not like us much."

"Well, then some of that fault would be yours."

"Ouch, touché. Still, what makes you think she has any skills for being an officer? Decision-making skills, including about her... talents. Leadership skills. Organizational skills. Following orders, giving orders. What about missions?"

"Not much different than any junior officer, as you should know -- or any junior personnel for that matter." Tony said nothing. John changed tactics a little. "The problem with modern science is it generates a lot of specialist experts, which is good, but not a lot of deep generalists."

"Renaissance men, like Victor."

"Those people are very rare. Lew at least was good and adaptable; but he's gone now. Do you have anyone else in mind?"

"Funny you should ask, because I was pondering that as you returned from Psychon, and had no good answer. Still, that's a tall order for Maya. Besides, wouldn't we be better off with her in a lab, coming up with new tech?"

"As an officer, she perhaps has a better chance of doing just that."

"How so? An officer wouldn't be able to spend as much time in the lab."

"If she's constantly available at a high level, to see all of what we see, while also starting to oversee more and more parts of the Technical section.... What I'm getting at is that if she can learn our needs inside and out, as one of us, Alphan and officer, and knows our technical strengths and weaknesses, she might find the most fruitful research paths, both from her own knowledge and what she's learned of ours. She could spend a lifetime in a lab trying to reproduce some of her technology, and may have trouble, or miss the mark of our needs, and I mean all of us, including her; or she could be in the thick of things and perhaps be realizing for herself exactly how she could help us the most, short-, medium-, and long-term, whether from her background or just from the mix of experience."

John stopped, to let it sink in.

"Damn, John, you may have something there. That's a hell of a lot of 'if's though. Add another 'if' -- if enough others trust her. If not, what's the point of making her an officer?"

This continued for awhile, until Koenig finally just said, "Yes. I'm telling you she can be trusted, and deserves this new chance too. If you still want to be cautious about her, fine. You see anything meaningfully suspicious, report it. In the meantime, I need your help as well."

Tony didn't look happy; but said, "So you do not want me to just keep an eye out for her safety, but also try to help her learn to be an officer?"

"We will have to talk about how to arrange it, and simply feed her some of the training--"

"A sneaky crash course? Why?"

"I would rather subtly see if she has the natural aptitude for it. If we force it, it could distort everything for her, and for us, and damage the chance of it genuinely growing within her."

"Hmmph, interesting idea. Just how will she be evaluated?"

"There will still be a decision process around any promotion. So?"

"Fine. Under protest, I'll help."

Tony saw helping Maya in this as a challenge. Tony's reservations were understandible, but overcoming them was Tony's other challenge.

Maya, now showered, her hair dried but left down because she had been assured privacy for quite some time, retrieved her snack from the fridge and put it in the microwave. She understood how she had to monitor the food for signs it was heating too quickly or unevenly, and to stir it at intervals. It was simple enough, yet more complicated than the Psychon version, as the Alphan form seemed to lack any basic sensors to regulate the factors Tony and Sandra had indicated were Maya's to oversee. She looked at the small meal'table, but something about eating alone there, today at least, had her rejecting that option quickly. Besides, she was curious about the computer, so she walked over to the desk.

Taking a first forkful of food, something called a casserole, which she liked, Maya looked at the computer monitor and key'board. The latter had about 200 keys, in various color groupings. Some keys had recognizable letters or numbers, some did not, and many were unlabeled. She remembered the overlays Sandra had briefly demonstrated. Though she would use only the green one Sandra had said was primary, Maya took each one, laid it over the keys, then memorized the complete grid of symbols and brief words, then moved to the next overlay, setting up a 'cubic' array in her mind, like a simple version of the associative language hyperarrays.

Ready to proceed, she hit the 'ω' reset button, the one Sandra had called omega, got a clear logon screen again, and "logged in." As the computer paused, she took a moment to think of the Khorask-provided definition of the Alphan words "logon" and "logged." There was none; but the fragment they had in common, log, mapped to: large section of central stem or primary branch of a tree. The associations were also useless. Finally, the computer responded with a screen of ordered text. The layout metaphor was alien, just numbered lines of text on the screen, each line appearing at an excruciatingly slow pace, like it was requesting and receiving one piece of data at a time from a data'core on the other side of the Moon.

Alpha Information System (AIS) 1. Status & Important Announcements [views] 2. Basic Information [docs ] 3. Work Station Access [none ] 4. Section by Section [views] 5. System Tools [progs] 6. Electronic Posts [ 4] 7. Personal Files [empty] 8. Customizations [empty] 9. Main Computer Library [docs ] 0. The Light Side of the Moon [board] Φ options (none selected) ω log out logged in: Maya

Besides to her own name, Maya's eyes were immediately drawn to the astronomical reference, so she hit the '0' key (wondering why zero came after nine on this screen and the key'board). What was retrieved was, if anything, slower to appear, and completely mystifying:

The Light Side of the Moon [p 1] 1. Atonal Alphans (update) 341 [ 2 pp] 2. "2001" movie square 341 [ 1 pg] 3. Random Recipes 340 [board] 4. Net+Goal 340 [board] 5. Poetic Licence 339 [board] 6. Literally Speaking 337 [board] 7. Book on 7B7s? 337 [ 1 pg] 8. Castle & Check Chess Centre 336 [board] 9. Isaac Asimov 336 [r: 4] 0. small Earth globe? 335 [r: 1] > Next 335-333 α base page Φ options (-DAB sort, no filter, full menu) Ψ Use Common Sense -3695 [read!]

Maya looked at the screen, bewildered. It was a screen full of seemingly random words, some of which she did not recognize. It was almost nonsense, ending with a reference to 'common sense' -- without defining what sense. No astronomy, even though the title of the page indicated such -- though she now found it curious what 'light side' really meant on a rotating planetoid. She thought, and realized 'light' was also a reference to mass. That, though, implied geology, which was certainly not present here either.

Atonal Alphans. She looked inward for the meaning of the Alphan word Atonal.... Lacking harmonious sound wavelength combination in the perception of the recipient of the sound. Alphans that sounded bad? Seemed sort of a rude reference.

She selected the Atonal Alphans one. This surprisingly, came up a little faster, like it was only looking for fewer diverse blocks of data than the main screen. It said: "Still looking for the musically-inclined. Anyone is welcome, even if you've never played (NOTICE our name!). Please consider joining. Contact me (Jack Bartlett). We're a self-learning group of all levels of experience, including none. We are 12 in number so far but growing. Currently just doing random playing (maybe you saw a recent random practice?), but considering more. We've obtained some instruments on a donated, borrowed bartered, or "permanently lent" basis, though we are looking for more (see list later). We can work out an arrangement that is good for you; and you don't have to play if you just want to lend/whatever (but please do!). Anyone with construction skills, please contact us too; you don't have to play (but again, you are certainly welcome to do so)."

The listing was clearly about an aspect of cultural life, so it was finally not difficult to realize the Light Side seemed to be a cultural exchange forum. She pressed '^' to leave the Atonal Alphans page and return to the Light Side page, then selected '>' to get the next screen of it, and then more screens -- all of it near-gibberish to her, though she grew totally certain it was a cultural or community exchange of some kind. She noticed, however, that the numbers, descending along the way, were tending to grow further and further apart as she paged on. There was a huge gap between 94 and -4, except for one lone 53 saying simply 'Anyone?' Once in negative territory, the numbers grew denser again, more than the numbers on the first page. It was a pattern, but its meaning was unknown to Maya.

It was community'talk via computer. Not an unfamiliar concept to her, though she hadn't seen something like it since she was a child, being shown parts of it by her parents -- Taylia mostly. Mentor had archived much of it, but it was too hard to look at. It had become like history to her, never a strong subject for her -- only more painful for it was the vibrancy of a people that had died on Psychon or left a thousand or more at a time. Except for me. Should I have gone? Left Father alone? No, that would have been too difficult. Also, he would have kept destroying aliens. Now I am one among a few hundred aliens. She shook her head as the tears started welling up. She would have to deal with those thoughts a lot, but not now. Maya tried pushing it back. She would make the best of what she had. She had no other choice, and that is what she wanted to do.

Unbidden, a brief poem from the young philosopher Dorzak wafted to mind.

Psychon is the world of metamorphs,
as much the mind sometimes as the body.
We know not the origin of either,
yet both give strength born and taught.
Even the least of a physical metamorph
can find the true inner transformation.
To become better than oneself,
like leaf'fatworm to flutter'flyer.

Maya wondered what sort of philosophical poetry Dorzak was writing now, in the deep reaches of space somewhere far out of Maya's reach.

They had met at least three times, when she was young. She no longer remembered how her parents knew him, but with Mentor among the top in scientific circles in his middle age, and Dorzak already among the top of his field at a young age, maybe there was some reason....

She pulled partway out of her reverie and thought through the same poem again, and found herself drawing a little strength and calm from considering the words carefully. She would have to be the mental metamorph, and abruptly, realized she had been, in deciding to correct what she could of Mentor's horrifying errors.

That only brought her back to the abyss, the chasm in understanding she wasn't ready to fly around in yet.

She flew from those thoughts, back to the poem, drawing some comfort from his fine words, before returning her attention to the alien monitor'screen in front of her. She wasn't part of whatever the "Light Side" was about, and might never be; but realized if she ever did understand most of what was on these community'talk pages, then it would be a sign she had become part of their community.

She shook her head again. At best, her thinking was premature; at worst, highly unrealistic. The welcome she had received already was quite a lot. It would be up to them to invite her into whatever context these entries were covering.

"One more thing," John said.

"Uh oh," Tony quipped.

"At some point eventually, in the future, I would like to put Sandra through command-readiness training."

Tony nearly choked in a combination of laughter and disbelief. "Sandra? Sandra Benes? You want to make Sandra a senior officer?" John nodded, seriously, so Tony blurted, "Why?"

"When I came back from Psychon, and you and Helena left Command Center with Maya, and Alan was down in the Eagle repair bay, I saw Sandra in Command Center, and it occurred to me, again, even more strongly, just how thin the ranks really are. Tell me, how many senior officers are left?"

"Well, you, me, Alan, Helena."

"And three of us were on Psychon, and could have died there. And how many junior officers?"

"Sandra...." The list ran out.

"She's been junior officer since before Breakaway, has filled almost every role of that except. She coordinates, has oversight, watches, and such. Besides, you just made my point. Our officer core is depleted."

"Yeah, but I think Bill Fraser and Alibe--"

"They are not even officers at all."

"You want to try fast tracking Maya...."

"To junior officer. Bill and Alibe have potential, but Sandra is already a junior officer."

"You know her reputation, right? Sandra's? Emotional, over-reactive, timid. Plus, Paul dying has shocked her deeply -- maybe more than you're thinking."

"Maybe; but I've seen a lot of quiet strength, organizational ability, even some command potential."

"Really, John, the first, sometimes, the second, yes, definitely, but the third? She can handle watch duty well, but when it comes to the big decisions.... When it came to Directive 4, she wanted to try to contact you, which would have given the whole thing away to the Psychons--"

"To Mentor."

"Would have alerted Mentor. What kind of command potential is in that?"

"That is a rough edge."

Tony guffawed. "Sure, among many, especially after she lost-"

"She also shows amazing analysis abilities, has always been calmer when in charge of a watch, and does looks for the high-level patterns while always remembering the small but important details. She knew to inform me the Yellow Alert was still on."

"Well, okay, I missed that, and she caught it. I didn't say she wasn't good at what she currently does. Details."

"No, lots of things, and you haven't been in command circles long enough to see her growth."

"Okay, if I can let Maya try proving herself as potential junior officer material, I can let Sandra try proving herself as senior officer material, though I think it will still be some time before she's even ready for such training to start. Months at least, if not longer."

Tony's spoken words did give John pause. Tony had seen some wisdom in John's words, and John saw some wisdom in Tony's. "You may have a point. It hasn't been that long. Yet maybe we can start some quiet nudges here and there."

R-346 DAB 0000-0130: Miles Apart

Maya, calm again, alone in an alien room, dressed in alien sleep'clothes, setting down an alien communication device on something with the strange alien term night'stand, sat down on the edge of a very alien bed, and realized all of these were hers now. Her room, her clothes, her commlock, her night'stand, her bed. All granted to her by aliens who had welcomed her here, much to her continued relief.

She looked around at the light gray and white polymer walls, the light gray floor, the computer panels, and everything else.

What now? she wondered, done for the moment looking at their computers and the room, and just trying to clear her mind further, only to find some basic questions coming back to the forefront.

She had been welcomed by the commander, and for that, she was incredibly grateful. She had nowhere else to go, and would have died. Their Eagle space'ships could only attain a small fraction of light'speed at their best. She had no idea where any other Psychon might be. The ships had scattered in different directions. What partial plans might have been given to Mentor, if any, would likely have gone into Psyche, which was now gone along with her father and her entire planet. She had no data. She had nothing. She had no one. Except for some aliens perhaps willing to give her a chance. A chance she wanted to take, to grasp onto, for it and them were all she had.

Back on Psychon, she had done some surface scans of Alpha, at her father's request, so she knew some basics, enough to agree they were "not so advanced" -- as her father had said, perhaps after he had run deeper scans.

The Commander had indicated interest in what she knew scientifically. He had told her she had a place on Alpha. For a brief moment, she feared there might be a contingency, that if she couldn't prove her worth here on Alpha, that maybe she'd be confined to this room, or a cell, or perhaps marched to the nearest air'lock. Aliens were not always kind to aliens, she thought again. The looks some aliens had given her over the years.... She fled that image. But no, what he had said sounded completely non-contingent, a genuine offer of welcome and friendship. Helena's words had only added to that. Out of the blur of memories of the final end of Psyche, she suddenly recalled that Commander Koenig had tried to get her father out too. Maybe Mentor would have been kept in a cell for his crimes, yet Koenig had tried to keep his word. She shook her head briefly, ashamed about her momentary fear about the Commander.

The science they had would probably be revealed, all or maybe just some with restrictions; but within some days or so, she would probably know for sure if there was any chance at reaching other Psychons. Yet her instincts already were telling her that she was indeed thoroughly marooned. She sobbed slightly at the thought, tears coming to her eyes, yet tears that the Alphans would give her a chance, however halting it might be. She was completely at the mercy -- in the hands -- of three hundred aliens, who hopefully would offer her some kind of life. She would take it, with gratitude. She was a survivor like her father, but she hoped in a far different way.

The horrors of what she had seen started returning to her mind. The Alphan standing there, slaving for her father, for a twisted dream of Psychon -- for Maya -- along with all the other aliens still 'alive' -- if a living husk could be thought of as alive -- came back to her, and she sobbed harder.

That they had not left her there to die, had saved her life despite losing two of their own on Psychon and two more here.... The Commander had done the decent thing, but after the horrors her father had visited on them, and her fighting with -- and injuring -- the Commander when his own life was already in peril every moment he tried to save her.... She cried gently, moved by the full realization of it.

He had saved not just her life, but her soul, in a way, for she had, however partially and unknowingly of the full extent of his actions, helped Mentor. For a moment, she felt as if a singularity formed in her heart. It was a shame she had, that however unknowingly, she had helped her father... had helped Mentor....

In gratitude, and to make up a little for Mentor, she would happily do whatever she could do for the Alphans, as long as such did not tread into the sort of highly immoral actions her father had descended into. It wasn't just in gratitude, though. They wanted her as part of their base, maybe eventually part of their community, and she had to -- wanted to -- contribute and be a part, she decided.

This mix of thoughts continued, until it mercifully faded a little, and she was able to start pushing it aside for now. She looked at the bed. Would it be quiet sleep, or another nightmare?

It had been another long, strange day for Tony, and this time, it was after midnight, almost 00:50. He emptied his pockets, including of Maya's schedule card, looking at it briefly to see that if Maya was trying to adjust to the new schedule, she should be in bed now. He tossed it on the desk and pondered the strangeness of the day, listening to an alien recount some background history, seeing her in an Alphan uniform, guiding her around, with Sandra, to some introductions and to her own quarters, hearing about the alien's disturbing ability to alter her form at will, listening to John spin unusual ideas of eventually making Maya a junior officer and Sandra a senior officer. Maybe John had misappropriated some of Tony's beer. Hell, maybe I'm in a drunken fantasy world. No, it wasn't that simple. Maybe it was inevitable, that Alpha, drifting through space, would pick up a stray, hopefully-friendly alien. But make her a junior officer? It sounded like the commander was thinking within a month or two. Sandra, a senior officer? Potentially a few steps from command? Maybe John needs some more sleep. I need some sleep.

He looked at the picture of his parents. "Not exactly what I signed up for," he muttered, not so much resentfully as with resignation.

Still, when he looked away, he pictured Maya's face, smiling ever so slightly, her eyebrows seeming almost elegant rather than odd, and her pretty blue eyes--

He realized with a start that she had blue eyes, or at least he thought she did. He had not consciously noticed that before.

Fine, so what? he asked himself.

There was no answer. He changed and headed to the bed. When he got under the sheets, he remembered his earlier thought of Maya tossing and turning in her sleep.

Madre del Dio! Why was he recalling that, of all things. He thought about Lena instead. Better, he thought. Only it wasn't better for long, when he realized he hadn't talked to her all day. Not good with a faltering relationship, though part of him figured it was probably not far from over. He'd seen the pattern too often.

R-346 DAB 0830-0930: Fenceposts?

Maya was on the bed she had slept in for the past number of years. Yet it was curved strangely, trapping her on her back, as living husks swarmed into the room and pinned her there, yelling at her in languages she should have recognized yet could not. Their tone was accusatory as they then dragged her off to the caverns, shoving a large hammer into her hands, forcing her to work as she pleaded that she had not known, until the radioactivity Mentor claimed was in the pits started cooking her brain and mutating her body, leaving her fading thoughts wondering where her father was. "Mentor is dead," some black-sleeved alien began droning vacantly, over and over again. She tried to scream, if for no other reason than to stop hearing his words, even as she continued hammering away at the walls, stared at by mindless aliens, a vulture, and fifteen cold'birds. Her mind began its final fading into oblivion, and she tried to scream again, even as she became a living husk....

She awoke with a loud scream, and finding herself unexpectedly on an uncomfortably curved bed, quickly propelled herself off it, her hand knocking against something in the dark. For a moment, her breath ragged as she stood in darkness, in clothing which felt strange to her, Maya had no idea where she was standing, until it all started rushing back to her. Her father. Psychon. Eagle'ship. Moonbase Alpha. Quarters. Strange looks, yet friendly looks and some kind words too. She latched onto the friendly part, trying to calm herself quickly, not wanting the Alphan doctor calling her right away in the very first minute waking up in her own quarters. She took a moment to recall where the alien night'stand was, took the couple steps over, grabbed the commlock, clicked for the time, and found it was 08:37. Her nightmare had overwhelmed her sense of timing, for she was seven Alphan minutes late waking up.

Already feeling somewhat calmer, despite still feeling disturbed about the content of her dream, and the sense of guilt that if only she'd realized something earlier....

She forcefully clicked the commlock to bring the lights up. That she had finally discovered the truth, was what had landed her in the strange-looking room which now confronted her in its full light. The jarring color scheme curiously had the helpful effect of partially pushing aside the disturbing imagery of the nightmare.

The commlock suddenly beeped in her hand, and she nearly dropped it, then realized someone was calling her. Maya sighed, thinking that it must be Helena. Instead, she found another face, which she took a moment to remember was Sally's, one of her neighbors, who she had met yesterday.

"Maya?"

"Yes, Sally?"

"That's right. Are you okay? The walls in residential quarters are usually pretty well sound insulated, but I thought I heard a scream."

"It was I, but I am okay. Bad dream."

"I can understand that. I just wanted to check."

"Thank you," Maya said with a smile.

"You're welcome. Goodbye."

The call ended, and she waited for Helena to call too, but that did not happen. Far from disappointed, she realized the doctor was likely expecting Maya to have nightmares, and giving her a chance to work through them on her own, at least for now. However, she had not expected the concern from a neighbor, one whose reaction yesterday had seemed mixed, or at least unclear, to her. Maya remembered that Tony was being polite to her too, maybe because having a nervous alien around was making him more nervous, and he wanted her to be calm. Maybe having a screaming alien around was making Sally more nervous. Still, that call, however brief, was a welcome surprise.

R-346 DAB 0830-1000: Tony and the Metamorph

Tony awoke with a start, images of Maya changing into some movie monster in his mind as he tried to sort out reality from fantasy. Unfortunately, Maya's talent fell on the 'reality' side in the end. He shook his head, the late-evening meeting with John coming back to mind. "Thanks for planting that information in mind so late in the day," he muttered ruefully, but without any real annoyance.

One of his old Breakaway injuries gave a little twinge, so he sought out a gym, then, late in the workout, remembered he still hadn't talked to Lena in awhile. Unfortunately, it was too late to do much about that.

Half an hour later, dressed in uniform and jacket, he arrived at Maya's quarters and signaled in.

In a few seconds, they were walking in the hallway.

Tony could not help but look at her somewhat differently. How could someone, even an alien, change herself from one form to another? Too weird. No, 'weird' wasn't the right word. He wanted to call it bizarre, but that sounded cruel. It was utterly alien.

Maya could see something had changed, that he was looking at her oddly, and keeping a little more distance than he already did. She wasn't sure why, but had a pretty good idea it was because he had now been told she was a metamorph. She said nothing, though -- afraid that if she started trying to fill the silence with something about that, and it was actually something else, she'd make matters worse. She noticed that so far, he always walked with her on the left side of him -- opposite of the side where he wore the Alphan weapon.

Tony could see she had picked up on his reaction; but she was tight-lipped, clearly not wanting to say anything first. He gauged her reaction, realizing that as before, he was seeing both anxiety and composure in her. Finally, he realized he had been staying silent, almost as if he was unconsciously waiting for the silence to make her blurt out some guilt. They boarded the travel tube, which was empty, and he decided to just put it out in the open and give her a break. "I can see you are wondering. Yes, Commander Koenig told me about your transformation trick." She looked a bit insulted by his choice of words, yet apparently tried to hide it.

The last thing Maya should have felt was insult about his characterization of her ability, when she did not want him to worry about it. She hastily tried to hide her reaction, only to sigh in resignation, not wanting to leave him antagonized. "Forgive my reaction," she said softly. "It is simply that it is not a trick. It is something nascent in all Psychons, that we can, if we choose, learn to express and use."

Tony couldn't help but chuckle at something in her earnest explanation.

"What?" she said, reacting immediately without thinking, then quickly putting her hand up to her lips in a startlingly human reaction. She turned away, but he explained.

"I had not pictured it being like taking university courses. Beginning Metamorphosis. Intermediate Transformation. Metamorph Mastery."

Maya did not know if he was being mocking or humorous. She decided to try giving him the benefit of the doubt, and... momentarily "shut off the metaphorical force field" about her metamorphosis a little, rather than remaining afraid, and smiled slightly, saying lightly, "it is a little more complicated than that."

Tony could hear her tone and recognized that for once, she was smiling at him of her own accord, rather than because he had smiled a little first. He was surprised to find was a welcome change from the mix of grim composure and nervousness he had always seen in her so far. It made him think that maybe she had a sense of humour somewhere in her, and even... that she was indeed rather pretty for an alien. He set that thought aside quickly as the travel tube reached the destination and they walked out, reminding himself that she was an alien with perhaps the most bizarre ability yet.

He wondered why he had to protect her, when she clearly had better intrinsic defenses than anyone. Then he realized a possible answer: Because if someone surprises her, she might not have time to change. He wasn't sure exactly how this molecular transformation thing was actually supposed to work, but she still struck him as being vulnerable, and if nothing else, she still needed someone to introduce her around.

Hell, if I tick her off enough, she could probably really smack me about. He wasn't about to walk on eggshells around her, however, and she did not seem to take any real offense to anything -- so far. He simply had to deal with the fact of her ability, at least outwardly, and get on with it. John did vouch for her, twice, three times maybe, he reminded himself.

Still, he felt the urge to keep a little more distance. She seemed to notice, and seemed to look a little hurt. Somehow, that spoke more about her character, though he wasn't about to let his guard down yet.

In looking at her and listening to her, she just seemed too familiar somehow, that he had seen and heard her kind before. In security practice, trusting a pretty face, the calm words or looks of 'you can trust me,' was bad -- always bad -- on Earth or in space. Not to mention she was the daughter of that lunatic Mentor, and maybe more of that deceptive nature had rubbed off on her than anyone else was willing to consider. Tony had been suspicious of Maya's father immediately, and had even given a non-verbal warning to John that he should not land on the planet itself -- for all the difference it made in the end. Still, at the same time, he had to wonder what he thought she could possibly be hiding. Her father was dead, her world was gone, and she was left stranded amongst three hundred aliens. Of course, some moviemakers probably could have a field day with that premise too -- not to mention that absolutely freakish ability of hers....

If Maya, Daughter of Mentor, was more like her father than anyone was thinking, or if she simply snapped from the pressure of everything that had happened and was happening now, who knows what she'd be capable of.

And John hopes to make her Science Officer eventually? Science Advisor and some missions was one thing, but Tony regretted not arguing more strongly against Science Officer.

After breakfast, Tony and Maya headed in the general direction of MCU-1; but they were running early, so he decided to swing by Security Center to finally introduce Maya and a few more guards, as well retrieve some material he needed for other duties after dropping Maya at MCU-1. Just as Medical had a number of care units spread throughout the base, there were a few security stations, as they were called, spread around. They were frequently two- or three-room setups, one as the station and the other for something else, like a weapons cache, practice range, training room, or such. This, however, was Security Center, and had several rooms, including a moderate-sized anteroom at which at least two security guards were always posted.

Maya already knew Bo, and while they greeted each other briefly but cordially, Bartelson quickly informed Tony that a technician and guard were in the weapons room, doing the weekly inspection. Tony then introduced Maya to Bartelson, and that too was cordial, and Tony decided he could trust Maya with Bartelson.

Tony left Maya with the two guards, and headed to the back door -- to his office. It had a window he could look out, and fortunately had been large enough to double up for his work as first officer, as well. He looked out and saw Maya and the two guards, glancing at each other some but not saying much. On-duty guards were not much for small talk, and it struck Tony that Maya wasn't either, at least at this point.

He also realized he should get her fingerprints, which were on file for every Alphan. He briefly wondered if there was any point to recording the fingerprints of a being who could probably change her fingerprints if she wanted. Still, it was prudent. Then he wondered if she even had fingerprints.

He soon found out that she did, and she accepted this need calmly. After that, they left Security Center.

Several minutes later, Tony and Maya arrived at MCU-1, where the doctor was waiting, while Bartelson took up station outside, and Tony left, happy the alien would be occupied at other places today.

R-346 DAB 1000-1400: Scans and Suits

Maya patiently allowed Helena to run more scans, including on a machine so large it looked like it could scan a planet, but was just to scan a person, and 'older-style but still useful magnetic resonance imaging system' Helena had said.

Between that machine, several other scans which followed, and a blood donation, Maya spent most of her time lying on her back or only semi-upright, so by the time these actions and some questions were over, she felt surprisingly anxious for the spacesuit training. This feeling strengthened when the doctor mentioned she had observed signs of distress in Maya, via the wrist monitor, earlier in the morning, and began asking about the nightmare, which Maya politely refused to discuss. Helena stepped around that and asked how Maya had slept otherwise, but Maya did not want to talk about the uncomfortably curved, alien bed. It would not do to insult those who had given her a home by complaining about something she had been given, at least not on the first night she used it. Helena gave Maya an odd look which she could not interpret, but moved on.

The doctor asked about prior medical conditions and latest illnesses, and the latter prompted a terse reply: "I am not a child. Oh, doctor, I am sorry. It is just that once the partial metamorphic abilities become available early in adolescence, invasive organisms 'feel' foreign and we can outshift them." The doctor looked more amazed than annoyed, but Maya apologized again.

"No, no, that's okay. You can detect foreign organisms?"

"It is almost completely unconscious -- or is most of the time. It is not just organisms, but also unwanted invasive substances, semi-consciously. They are not part of me."

"So you don't have symbiotic organisms within you? Do you understand the question?"

"Yes, I understand, and yes, there are symbiotic organisms; but those I know are a needed part of me."

"How?"

"Exactly how was a slight mystery to us. It is instinctive, actually. Speculation was that since a pre-adolescent child has a metasense, that we somehow learn or just know which... microbes are a normal part of us, and which are attacking us."

"So you get sick as a child?"

"Often. A theory is that microbes are partially or fully adapted to us being metamorphs capable of shifting them out, starting in adolescence, and attack younger children more often, but still not too strongly because then we might be wiped out, which would be detrimental to the disease as well."

"So metamorphosis becomes your immune system?"

"An extra one, perhaps one can say; our regular immune system still remains developed to whatever point it was. At extreme age, even partial shifts may become inaccessible again, for some, and the regular system takes over, I guess."

"But it may be weaker from disuse or simple aging."

"I suppose, probably. I am not a physician."

Helena asked a couple more questions along those lines, further into territory that was not a skill of Maya's, and that line of questions soon came to an end, with Helena renewing her invitation for Maya to ask questions.

When this session was over, almost at noon, she was given a brief break. Then a walk down more hallways -- the alien city was far larger than the system of orange shelter tunnels back on Psychon -- with Bartelson brought her to Alan, Bill, and another person who was from Service Section, to whom she was introduced by Alan.

Primary'talk was about spacesuits, checking the fit of a spacesuit arranged for her, trying helmets, oxygen distribution, carbon dioxide filtration and elimination, mixes, the guages, and other details -- as well as where they were stored when not in use.

R-346 DAB 1300-1500: De-Briefing

Three days after the destruction of Psychon, it was time to talk about what had happened there, and Koenig, Verdeschi, Russell, Carter, and Benes were the primaries, while Fraser would be called in for part of it.

There was a lot Koenig alone had heard from Mentor, that Verdeschi had overseen on Alpha, or that others may have seen alone or at least perceived alone, that needed to get out in the open among the officers. Verdeschi knew little about what had happened on Psychon, but had been biding his time with outwards patience and inward impatience.

Koenig gave the officers the broad description of events of those captured on Eagle 4 had seen. The capture of their Eagle, being deposited in the bottom of a then-inactive volcano, the spaceship graveyard, yet some more oily "reassurances" from Mentor and his request they stay put, the Alphans striking out into the cavern, the mine and miners, Torens, a guard turning into rock, Picard being vaporized. He presented the facts, simply and dispassionately.

Hearing about Picard and Torens was probably like kicks in the gut to those who had not known how they had died, namely to Tony and Sandra. Tony sat back, a look of disgust on his face in regard to Torens appearing as a virtual zombie.

"We were all recaptured by another sphere of light, and this one knocked me out. I woke up and met Maya standing outside the cell." He left out the lioness, at least for now, recounting that it was a fractious meeting at best, including his running into a force field. He recounted her taking him to her father, Mentor dismissing her from the room. Mentor's dream of restoring Psychon and his twisted methods. Mentor's descriptions of Psyche. Demonstration of its capacity at molecular transformation, including against the Moon. Mentor's ploy using other Alphans, Koenig's counter ploy via Directive 4, the Psychons discovering it. Maya confronting Koenig and Koenig confronting Maya. Her fleeing but returning in shock and releasing them. John destroying Psyche, Mentor pleading with Maya to stop Koenig and her reply regarding what she had found. The beginning of the final end of Psychon and Mentor's plea to save Maya.

Koenig then paused. Here came another kicker, of a different kind, for a different reason.

"Mentor was behind a wall of fire, shouting at me to save Maya and at her trying to justify himself yet claim he never meant harm. When she released us, her only condition was that he not be harmed, but now he seemed in danger of dying, and she wanted to save him. I yelled at him to get out of there, but he refused, and I had to stop her from running into the flames after him. She and I fought." He paused, then said, "She actually has a most unusual and useful ability, one she requested I inform the whole base about immediately, but that I felt better released in stages." This caught a curious look from Sandra and Alan, who were sitting in neighboring chairs. John could see Helena and Tony watching those two to see how they would react to what came next. "She had already used the ability as part of an attempt at a playful introduction when I was not in a playful mood, at which point she apologized. Later, she used again more seriously, trying to get away from me and to her father." He paused again, hoping he had laid enough groundwork this time.

Alan looked very impatient. Sandra seemed a little more patient but no less curious.

John continued. "Maya is a metamorph." What you have seen is her true biological form, much like any of us, but she is able to molecularly transform herself into other biological forms."

Koenig paused to let it sink in. Alan's initial look of incredulity faded into one of surprise, then amazement, as if finally accepting that John was being serious, and reacting to the information. "Holy cow," he said slowly. Then he let gave a half laugh, and said, "We've seen aliens do some pretty amazing things, but that has to top them all."

Sandra shook her head, seemingly not in anger, or in shock, just one of renewed amazement of the surprises the universe kept throwing their way.

He couldn't blame them.

"It is an ability under her control, one that has limitations we are starting to find out about. It is one she has to practice to improve upon, and I have requested she continue doing so; which she will do discretely. She is no danger to you, or us as a whole, and I hope you treat this as a talent she has, not a reason to fear or avoid her."

Alan spoke up: "That's a wallop to take in, but I saw what she did for us, what she gave up. No problems here."

"Good," John said, then looked at Sandra.

"It is a surprising ability, and it shocked me for a moment; but that does not really change anything. She helped us, and now she needs us."

He nodded for a moment, pleased at her reaction, hoping Tony would notice that there was still strength in her. Indeed, he caught Tony looking at her momentarily. Probably didn't change his mind, and Tony still had good points for John to keep in mind, but hopefully Sandra would re-center herself eventually.

Four of the five of them around this table, John Koenig, Helena Russell, Alan Carter, and Sandra Benes, had been direct witness to many bewildering and shocking things. Tony Verdeschi, while not as direct a witness to most of these events, had not been immune either, and though not as tempered in the ways the other four survivors of many direct encounters with alien peoples and forces, he was a quick learner, and more thoughtful than most gave him credit for.

There was some discussion about how a few were meeting with her later, to get more detail. John, with a few words from Helena, reprised what detail they did have, such as a time limit, something about capacity of forms limiting her intelligence, and some of her fractured descriptions. "There is something about size limitations," John continued, "and that she's still learning to turn into even larger and smaller forms."

"Oh?" Tony piped up. "Sounds like a big violation of physics. E=mc² and all that. How could she be losing mass without it turning into enough energy to well... put a new crater on the Moon?"

"I have no idea. I saw her do it, and her mass did change. She was a hawk-like bird, a shepherd-like dog, a lioness, and a great ape."

Alan looked at him. "How did you hold her back from--"

"By the time she got free, it was too late to help Mentor. For the classified record, though, she did leave me with a few bruises, plus, as a bird, two minor puncture wounds to my wrist."

"Which are healing well," Dr. Russell added.

John looked at Tony, who looked exasperated, rolling his eyes slightly, probably in reference to Tony's words about her being a security nightmare.

"I told her that her father would not be harmed, but events got way beyond the control of either of us. As much as she was horrified at what she learned about him, he was still her father, and she wanted to save him. I level no blame whatsoever against Maya about her actions, and with this, the official classified report, and the medical report which will remain a confidential matter as usual, I will consider the matter of her injuring me as closed."

There was a brief conversation about when her ability might best be revealed to the rest of Alpha, but there was no clear consensus on a time, though most agreed not too long.

They moved on, to others' recollections, whether on Alpha or Psychon. Then they talked hardware.

The spine booster had proven to be a good choice. It had done little in its first use, but its second use had saved the survivors' lives as they fled from Psychon's rapidly escalating -- and final -- destruction. "What about the unit?" John asked.

"The booster module is damaged. It conked out with 10% fuel remaining. I don't know why yet. Then it got hit with debris. We haven't been able to fully assess how much or how repairable it is."

"While we're on the general topic, how about Eagle 4?"

"Some signs of stress. She's already flight worthy for emergency use again, but beyond that, I've taken her out of rotation for a Level 3 overhaul. Weeks, it looks like."

"You realize the nuclear Eagle turned out to be a waste," Tony commented.

So many Eagles -- three -- lost to Mentor and Psychon.

"Yes, and no. Maya didn't understand the action. It angered her, and she confronted me, and that was the break I needed that allowed me to finally get through to her."

"It took you and a nuclear-filled Eagle to get through to her?"

John didn't like his tone, but let it pass, as he hoped Tony's mixed response to Maya would as well. It only reconfirmed John's decision to put Tony in charge of Maya's well-being: if Maya was to become an officer, she and Tony had to get to past their so-far rocky start.

"Tony," Helena said. "Her father was the only person she knew for who knows how many years. He was her father, apparently treated her very well and gave her little or no reason to doubt him, and he probably had excuses ready for any questions she might have asked anyway."

Tony looked rather unimpressed, yet his expression softened, and he said, "Okay, I guess the Eagle wasn't a total waste then."

John nodded, but something struck him abruptly. "Helena, the titanium."

"What little I found on Psychon before we ran across the miners, I handed to Mineralogy, and their analysis is that there will be enough for only half the original need. We still need the rest."

"Understood. Sandra, next chance you get, coordinate with Cartography and Records and see if we can pinpoint where those planet fragments may have come down on the Moon. If someone can narrow it down enough to be worth a mission...."

"You think some may be titanium?" Tony asked.

"Not the most likely, but perhaps. Maybe something else. Who knows what was deeper in the planet. Theory has it that metals tend to sink during planetary formation, after all. Find out if it is worth looking into. Oh, and have someone run the satellite data and see if any debris went into long orbits around the Moon."

Another pause, then Dr. Russell spoke. "Was it really energy, in the usual electrical sense, that Psyche needed? The power output of the human brain is really not that high, and it felt more like it was trying to rip into my mind."

John gave her a sympathetic look, then leaned forward. "I think maybe something got lost in the translation, and perhaps in my retelling it too. I doubt it was simple physical brain energy, especially after what you just said, unless there is something more about that which Mentor's machine could find, but rather the energy and organization of the mind. He talked more about minds, and so did I in response to him, actually. I doubt victim's conscious minds made it in, because he was still talking in terms implying sums of 'energy' instead."

"The patterns of organized thought, maybe," Helena said.

"Like he was building a single, unified super-mind?" Tony asked.

"Maybe. That would explain a lot. He said Psyche had the power of molecular transformation, which seems to have been a common ability down there. He said something too about many of his people having donated their minds to the machine. Perhaps when Psychon started dying, so did massive numbers of people before they could flee, or something. Maybe the raw ability to control molecular transformation survived and grew in Psyche too. It was a biological computer, so maybe whatever physical aspect there is to transformation, besides the mental aspect, went in as well. It was through Psyche's control of that ability that the Moon was attacked."

John paused, Mentor's sheer ambition and smug, self-assured attitude and gigantic ambitions suddenly reminding him of similar characteristics, even with different goals, of Dr. Cabot Rowland. Restoration of an entire dying planet in one case. Understanding immortality and becoming 'as gods' in another. Unchecked ambition, conveyed in booming voices which could become subtle and sly at the drop of a hat. Long-unchecked ambition becoming each of their unravelings, directly or indirectly.

The idea of making Maya the Science Officer was brought up, and discussed the reasons for it, including that he had found her to be very technically-oriented, and willing to help. There was some discussion, but curiously, neither Carter nor Benes seemed too surprised or concerned about the possibility, perhaps because of the conditions Koenig had just stated, or maybe because they were accepting of the possibility of an alien science officer yet still saw the conditions as sensible. After the argument from Tony -- a largely logical one, actually -- this was still something of a relief not to have to rehash the same points.

R-346 DAB 1600-1800: Meeting

John waited patiently. Finally, after almost forty-eight hours filled with squaring away at least the basics regarding the damage Mentor had wrought on the base, though repairs would continue for some time, it was time for a formal meeting with Maya.

The meeting was set up for 16:00 - 18:00, and he had previously decided to keep it simple, just Maya, Tony, Helena, and himself -- not even the full set of officers. There were four chairs arranged evenly around the table. It was not to be an interrogation, but a conversation. Helena was already sitting on his left, and when Tony and Maya came in, he lifted his hand towards the seat opposite of him, saying, "Please, take a seat, Maya." Tony then took the seat to John's right.

"Thank you, Commander," she said politely. He couldn't tell if she was calm or nervous about this meeting.

"So how is your room?"

"Very generous, and very nice. Thank you."

"Your neighbors?"

"I met them before moving in." She didn't say anything more for a moment, then added, "And Sally has talked to me since then."

John realized with a start that he hadn't even seen her in two days, though at least one of those days she had slept through. Still, he'd have to talk one-on-one with her sometime soon. The small talk was brief, but sounded promising, and he moved on.

"This is going to be just a general conversation, more of a 'get to know each other better' session." She seemed to brighten at his words, which he had chosen intentionally as a reminder of what he had said trying to comfort her on Eagle 4. "We'll ask questions of you, you will ask questions of us. We can offer information. We're not really going to pry about Psychon or Mentor--"

"Please, if you have to know something--" she started, as if wanting to give them any reassurance she could that she was not her father.

He put his hand up, and said, "We really just want to find out more about you, as I'm sure you want to know more about us. Why don't we start with a question or two from you."

She seemed surprised by that. His action was intentional, to let her feel a little more comfortable immediately that this was to be a two-way street. She was quiet for a couple seconds, probably not from having to come up with a question but deciding which of the jumble to pick first.

"Where do you come from? Why -- and how -- did you set up a base so quickly on a hyperspatial wanderer?"

They could have laughed at her questions, but her genuine curiosity struck right to the heart of their predicament, so there were simply knowing nods all around, acknowledging the strangeness of it, as Helena answered "We're from a planet called Earth by many, Terra by a few, and a variety of other names. Sometimes we called ourselves Terrans, occasionally Earthlings. Now we call ourselves Alphans, after Moonbase Alpha here."

"Have you ever heard of us or our planet?" Tony asked, rather loudly.

"I recognize none of those names. I only know you as Alphans, starting from a few days ago."

"This wanderer," John started, "used to be Earth's natural satellite." That startled her. She probably already wondered what physics could have changed that. "We built a base over some time, but we had considerable radioactive waste disposal areas, mostly on the far side -- other side from Earth -- of the Moon, and for reasons still not fully understood, first one small deposit and then one massive one exploded, and the second blew us out of orbit." Maya looked suitably more and more surprised.

Helena jumped back in. "We call the event Breakaway, and it happened nearly a year ago, on September 13th of the year 1999. We've been counting Days After Breakaway, DAB, ever since. Today is 346 Days After Breakaway."

Maya didn't seem to know what to ask next, so John asked her, "You called our Moon a hyperspatial wanderer, but said it almost as if you recognize the phenomenon. Is it something normal?"

"Normal? Well, yes and no...." She stopped, probably trying to sort out a better answer.

Tony jumped in, "We're aware we are, away from star systems, surrounded by some enormous bubble of normal space that seems to be zipping along at faster-than-light speeds. Professor Bergman theorized it was some sort of hyperspatial interaction."

"He is correct. You appeared out of nowhere, apparently from a near-instantaneous warping of space, close to our star system, moved a short distance in the typical bubble, which then collapsed when you hit the edge of our system."

"Typical?" Tony asked, a little impatiently.

"Sufficiently large stars, including all of those known to be supporting sentient life, have typical spatial properties regarding radiation, gravity, and other fundamental properties. Yet they are having an effect in hyperspace as well... carving out... a... sphere -- to be imprecise -- of direct hyperspatial interaction. Small objects and large objects in normal space are unaffected, but objects ranging from larger asteroids through planetoids to smaller and moderate rocky planets, are often affected, such that if they are gravitationally ejected from the system in normal space, they may reach a boundary, ah...."

"We've been calling it the Space-Normal Boundary."

"That is a... good working name. Reach that boundary, and hyperspatial interaction begins, a bubble forms, and the object goes superluminal, but with a... pocket?... of normal space around it."

"How large of a pocket?"

"For the smallest and largest objects, it is very small. It increases steadily in between... in a... logarithmic-adjusted symetric hill'curve.

It sounded like she meant a bell curve would appear when the logarithm of the mass was taken, but as interesting as that would be to pursue, John held his question, and Maya continued.

"Your Moon apparently sits very close to the middle of the curve, though I have to admit Mentor and I found your hyperspatial bubble of normal space to be much larger than equations imply."

"Why?"

"Maybe you're so very close to the center of the hill'curve that an unknown secondary effect arises. I do not know."

Tony laughed. "The story of our existence."

Maya looked at him, puzzled, but said nothing to him; though after a pause, she asked another question. "Would I be able to meet Bergman? I mean the Professor."

"Actually, his name was Victor. Victor Bergman."

"Victor. Was?"

"He died a few weeks ago."

"Oh. I am sorry."

"It is a pity, because I think he would have loved to meet you, and talk with you."

Maya looked down slightly, then after the silence lingered for several moments, looked up, but said nothing.

Eventually, Maya timidly asked another question. "How many of you are there?"

"There are currently 294 of us, including you," the CMO said.

Maya smiled, obviously appreciating the way Helena had said it.

"There is rooming capacity for dozens more," Tony started, "but there are various factors which keep us limited, and we recently finished most of a move to lower-level accommodations and are starting to convert former upper-level accomodations for other purposes."

The conversation covered a few other basics about the base, and a handful of their encounters over the last year, but only a few as examples to frame the situation they were in, for Maya hardly needed reminding of attacks against Alpha.

She clearly thought it was sad people had died. Maya once again seemed to be a very sensitive being when it came to life.

After a little more discussion along these lines, John turned the conversation towards her metamorphic ability. He had decided to save questions on potential technical skills for later, to start with this more first and end on a less exotic but hopefully no less strong of a talent. He first started with a little rehashing, to get the topic going. This continued for a short while.

"So I heard you can actually change mass?" Tony soon asked.

"Yes. Currently I can get as small as a moderate sized bird, and to a couple times my normal weight."

"Currently?" Tony asked.

"With practice, I will be able to extend the lower limit, and with practice and other factors, to extend the upper limit as well."

"So, what, you can eventually become a bacterium or a brontosaurus?"

"I do not understand."

"Microbe or a 30-foot-high reptile," Helena said.

"It does not work that way. At the low end, I am limited by the brain capacity. If there is too little to leave me room to rewrite something for my instructions and reversion instincts, I cannot do anything useful, and cannot revert to normal and would die -- and my instincts would forbid even the attempt to make such a transformation."

"So how small, eventually?"

"A medium-sized insect."

"How large?"

"A few times my own mass. There is no brain-capacity limit. There are other factors, such as accumulation of... metamass, and... I do not know how to explain the other main factor."

"What happens to the mass? Our understanding is that if you eliminate that much mass, there should be massive amounts of energy."

"It is not eliminated. It is shifted, into... hidden dimensions, tiny... 'loops' far smaller than molecules, where the mass is not... ah... does not create... does not have... typical effects in three-dimensional space."

"Metamass?"

"That is what the shifted mass can be called. Also, though, I've been carrying an increasing amount of metamass since I started adolescence, even before I learned to transform or access it. That is what allows me to transform into more massive creatures."

"Whewww," Tony said, half-fascinated and half-surprised. "All Psychons can do this? Well, you mentioned something about learning."

"All Psychons have some nascent ability, and low-level access. All accumulate metamass, and there are certain subtle, very... limited, incomplete metamorphoses all are capable of starting with adolescence. However, to truly shift form, whether superficially, partially, or fully, takes learning and practice, and usually teaching as well. Some individuals have more affinity for learning it, like any other topic."

"I take it you did?"

"My father taught me, but... I probably would have figured it out myself eventually anyway. The talent has run strong in both sides of my ancestry. Through history, it has been a steady one-third to two-fifths of men and three-fifths to two-thirds of women learn to master it well enough to use it; but in my family, it ran well over half the men and nearly all the women."

"What happens if you are injured while in another form, and revert back?" the doctor asked. "Do you have the injury in the analogous part of your own body, or is it gone?"

"Gone. Except there is a... sympathetic reaction, that I may momentarily feel like I have the same injury. It has to do with taking back some impressions from the creature's mind, or what of my own I had in the form. It isn't real, and fades. Except, if I were to breathe something poisonous, like the... element... trae'rytra gas into a being's lungs, I can momentarily have some residual... in my own... until... I finish the after'shift."

Maya's explanations, which had been much clearer in this meeting than the one aboard Eagle 4, were getting more fragmentary again. Helena would perhaps have to try getting that one again later. So she noted down what she had heard, and moved to another question. "If your own body is hurt, can a transformation heal it when you revert?"

"It does not work that way. My form is my form. If I am hurt, transformation can help me escape the danger and find help for when I revert, for example. It is thought that being metamorphs, even if only nascent metamorphs, does help with healing in a certain way, perhaps a little faster, and probably eliminating the damage a little more... leaving lesser... fainter... scars?... or lessening other after'damage in cases of more severe injuries. But we have -- had -- limited medical knowledge of other races and species, at least that I am aware of. I am not a physicist -- I mean physician."

"I heard about time limits?" Tony asked.

"Correct. Currently 57.1 minutes for my smallest form, and 61.3 for my largest."

"So about an hour," Tony said. "What happens if you don't revert by then."

"It is instinctive to do so."

"Er, so nothing stops it?"

Maya visibly shivered. "Something can prevent it..." she said hesitantly, as if nervous about revealing danger points. She continued a moment later, showing she was willing to take the chance. "If I am in a smaller form, and am trapped in too small a volume for my normal form.... I would be... crushed."

"Crushed? What does that mean?" John asked.

"The reversion would start, but being confined, even if not in a solid containment, the mass would all return into the confined space, I would not be able to reorganize properly. My mass would return in a small, high density biomass incompatible with life. The returning mass would crush the present mass. I would die. Please, if I am in a smaller form, do not trap me past my limit."

"Don't worry, we will keep that in mind," John reassured her. "That is why we are asking these questions, to find out about these things."

"You can't just change into another small form?" Tony asked.

"If the cage isn't too small. It depends." She looked like she was struggling to come up with an explanation, then finally said, "It can be a little complicated."

"So how is it you know so many Earth animals?" Tony asked.

"Earth'animals?"

"Tony," John said, "we've actually seen a lot of apparent Earth animals on other planets as well."

"Right, forgot about that. But did you see all those on Psychon? Is that how it works, that you have to see them?"

"Them or another metamorph in that form."

"You can learn directly from each other in that way?" John asked.

"Most of the forms I know are from other people demonstrating. Even though I could not learn full transformation until adulthood, and certain very fractional aspects until adolescence, we have the metasense from the beginning of childhood."

"When you were a baby?" John asked.

"Not baby. Childhood. About three or four Earth years. Once we start having more permanent memory."

"Metasense. How does that work?" Helena asked.

"Directly by touch is the easiest way, and for most of childhood the only way. Later, in adolescence, I was able to start sensing at a distance, like 'looking' in a way. That takes more concentration."

"So you have to be in proximity?" John said.

"For the most part, yes. There is a small... trick, though, that allows us to change into similar forms from just a picture, rather than presence. It is called... a superficial transformation, even if the mass changes to a degree. It is not a true transformation, for lack of better terminology, and is not stable. Limits of only a few minutes."

It was only a very short leap from that and other information presented, to Tony getting a troubled look on his face, and saying, "I suppose this all means you can change into us."

She hesitated, but then said, "Yes, but it is not done for... nefarious purposes. It is not something we -- I -- would ever do for ill intent."

Tony looked like he was about to say something, but the Commander cut in. "I accept that."

Maya looked at John, then Tony, then John again. "Thank you, Commander; but I must say something. Please, Tony, I have been resisting the urge to sense your people. I cannot scan minds at all. It does not work that way. It never does. Just brain patterns. There is a difference, a massive one. It may give me a sense of what sort of mental capacity or tendencies, and I understand the being's built-in instincts, but nothing specific or personal regarding higher levels. There are reasons why we might or can turn into other people; it is complicated... there are a lot of rules about what is allowed and forbidden regarding people. Please, if that is the only thing I can actually ask for you to trust me, then I ask for this reason. You don't have to answer now, or ever; but I just wanted to say that."

Tony simply looked at Maya for a few moments, while she held his gaze steadily, and this time did not look away.

He did not seem terribly impressed by her plea, and the silence soon grew awkward, so John changed topics.

They drifted through a few minor questions, then Maya asked more questions about basic moonbase operations, until they moved to the final major topic.

"Maya," John said, "I get the impression you are very technically oriented and enjoy the sciences."

This conversation went on for awhile, and they discovered Psychons felt there were several broad classes of technology: Electronic, such as what humans mostly used; photonic; what she called attryle; and two more called yrelicalo and yrelor -- the last of which she hastily dismissed, for it was a somewhat biologically based, like Psyche. There were other levels and paths, built by races more powerful than the Psychons, that were poorly understood.

"There are large gaps between each," she stated. "Will that be my role here? To work in a laboratory and work towards such technologies, or more powerful electon-based systems, from your current technical base? I would like to help, however I am able."

"Actually--" John started, but Tony's commlock beeped.

"Sorry, must be something urgent," Tony said.

"Mr. Verdeschi, we have a disturbance."

As Commander Koenig listened, he thought about how it was the third such incident recently. Since people had taken smaller quarters, downlevel, there had been more confrontations for petty reasons. Community may have been growing in some ways, but a year of difficulty followed by a reduction in living space for many people, had perhaps put a small damper on that. Getting attacked again probably didn't help. In fact, he was getting the sense it had done some damage to morale.

Tony looked at John. The two had talked after the last incident, and had reached a mutual decision that with the next such incident, that it would make sense for the commander to get involved as well. John nodded, both as a signal for Tony to leave and that John would follow a few minutes later.

"Excuse me, ladies," Tony said. "Other duties call."

"Sorry, Maya, Tony and I have to check this out. I think the meeting went well, except for the interruption. I know your last question isn't answered; but rest assured, you will be participating shortly. The officers and I still have to discuss some particulars now that the four of us talked. We will meet with you again, probably tomorrow, and you can ask further questions as well, and we might have a few more. If you have any more immediate questions, please ask Helena. Helena, when you are done, please contact Bokessu."

John left then, for the trouble spot, his thoughts quickly transitioning back to that situation. It was not that Tony couldn't handle the investigation, because he could; nor that Tony couldn't use his authority, because he had no problem with that either. Rather, the commander's silent or not so silent presence would add emphasis that further continuation would not be tolerated -- at the highest levels.

Indeed, as he approached, he could see who was involved in the altercation, and neither looked comfortable being grilled by Verdeschi, and when first one and then the other spotted a displeased Koenig headed their way, their expressions sunk even further.

F-347 DAB 0800-1000: Science Advisor Maya

John quietly tapped out an electronic post.

He had talked further with his officers and then with Maya. The idea was deemed acceptable by the former and accepted by the latter. Now, it was time for the rest to know....

Official Command Announcement

347 D.A.B. 09:40

All Personnel, Alpha Moonbase:

As of 09:00 today, Maya has been posted to Technical Section as Science Advisor of Moonbase Alpha.

After some discussion, it has become evident that she has expertise in various technical and scientific fields, and wishes to help in whatever ways she can. Large gaps in terminology and details remain, so she needs training in our state of current expertise, such as terminology, current theory, equipment, and practices.

A series of professional discussions will be set up with various Technical Section department and team leaders, and possibly others within the section or other sections. These are not just intended to be just one-way training. I strongly encourage a two-way discussion, to learn from each other.

While this is ongoing, and we mutually find out in more detail where Maya's deepest strengths are, the Science Advisor role has been determined to be a suitable title.

At this point, the role will be advisory in nature and may soon be research, development, and/or support as well. Leadership of Technical Section will remain split among the officers for the foreseeable future, as discussed in prior announcements. Research and related efforts will be partially overseen by a temporary Science Board yet to be formed. Further details on this and who they report to will be forthcoming. The new Science Officer role will remain open for the time being.

If you have any questions or concerns, please contact me or an officer.

He reviewed it. It was multi-page on the monitor, but would be a one page printout, and he suspected it would be printed out a lot, as it would probably become very controversial. He sent the post. It was time for Alpha to start learning to adapt in yet another way.

F-347 DAB 1530-1700: Thoughts of the Rage

It was Ray Torens, a mere husk, a walking form with almost no mind, grabbing Maya's arms and pushing her forward, out of the pits. He said nothing as she pleaded her innocence. The orange door opened onto a new, blue-colored hallway which was a dream distortion of the already nightmarish Alk^inharda Complex, the blue giants glinting at her from the walls. Torens did not listen to her pleas as he forced her down the corridor, until she was staring at the raging dark heart of the Alk^inharda. Torens pushed her into the end'space.

Maya screamed herself awake. There was no call from Sally or anyone else this time. Her neighbors were probably working.

The Alk^inharda. Of all the nightmares, why that? It was so far from Psychon, further than she had ever flown in a star'ship. It was nightmarish, and her mind provided an image of something almost without form, where even equations broke down in the wake of ancient anger.

Is that what she deserved? To be torn apart in anger? The Alphans seemed to have mixed feelings about her, some looking hostile, but to that degree?

Dream recovery. She wasn't used to having nightmares, though she had started slowly having more over the last couple of years. She had not understood why, assuming it was simply from confinement in the caverns and/or the unpredictable fate of her world; but in retrospect, was now wondering if she was unconsciously wondering about her father.

Mentor had taught her the metamorphic game of association, a powerful method of mental association to recover, among other things, the equally associative, metamorphic memory fragments comprising dreams. Psychons didn't bother much with dreams, most of the time. They were just the mind's way of processing immense amounts of data to remember as much as possible, and to discard the excess. Sometimes, though, the troubled mind would not readily reveal its reasons.

She had no one to play the game with anymore, and it required two people. To metamorphs used to physical transformation of themselves or those around them, there was something simple and powerful about a game relying on fast-shifting words bringing out fast-shifting dream imagery, much of which could involve images of beings transforming and things transformed. It seemed far too uniquely Psychon of a technique for the Alphans to understand, and she did not to scare them. No, no strange games. Her nightmares now had obvious enough causes. All the horrors she had seen and heard in such a brief period of time at the end of Psychon. The husks in the pits, the truth of the Commander's words, her father blasting away at the Alphan base, Mentor's last words and his dying scream, the pits again, the spaceship graveyard, the feeling of her own planet shaking under her feet, and its dying explosions battering the alien spacecraft. Being marooned among the attacked aliens, who had mixed opinions about her.

She shook her head and pushed the images aside, while still wondering why her mind took all that and now saw fit to randomly add in the Alk^inharda. Too awake to go back to bed, even with two hours left in her scheduled sleep period, she decided to get ready from the day, but being busy did nothing to get her away from her mind's made-up image of the Rage at the heart of the Alk^inharda.

Fifteen minutes later, in a uniform and drying her hair, she was thinking of it again. They were so many light'years away, on an alien planetoid that was just the right size to gather itself the largest possible hyperspatial bubble -- even larger than even the equations implied it should have -- and flit....

Maya's breath caught. She thought of the former course of the Moon, which she had analyzed back on Psychon. Now she corrected it for her homeworld's destruction, and extrapolated the Moon's hyperspatial travels.

The Alk^inharda.

Not enough variables. Try with more. Halfstar. Worse. Add in Redsun and its gas'planets. The calculations took longer. Deceptive gap. The Alphans might think.... Add the smaller inner planets. More variables, starting to be too many. Where was the paper and the writing'... the pen? The desk. She drew a quick and very simplified diagram, and made sure she calculated each starting array correctly. She ran the initial arrayed ellipticals in her mind, jotted a few intermediate dimensionals, then thought through the final equations across all. Worse. Of all the places....

Her dream wasn't metaphorical, metamorphic, or a game of any kind. It was almost as literal as they got. The Alk^inharda. It seemed she was going to have to convey something very alien to them anyway. Alien legends. The truth of their new course.

It was a sudden meeting, of John Koenig, Tony Verdeschi, Alan Carter, and Douglas McLeod. The meeting was called by the last, and the first was not pleased.

"It's four days after Psychon's destruction; I know the long-term course calculation takes awhile, but not this long," the commander said to the astrophysicist.

"Sorry, Commander, we'd never encountered an exploding planet, and no one thought of all the consequences, and no one asked us to recalculate either -- but that is no excuse for me taking so long to think of it myself."

"Fine, you were saying we're not slipping to the right of this huge nebula and star concentration fifty days ahead of us. Assuming we don't get sucked into another space warp or have the Moon wrenched by something we're not seeing now, what is the Moon going to do?"

"With the loss of Psychon's gravity as we left that area, we are now headed further to the 'left', and will first encounter a weak star about halfway there. Instead of missing that system, we'll skirt through its outer range. We've only detected one small gas giant, and we'll be about ten times further out than it."

"But we'll still get more of a slingshot from that star than we were expecting?" Alan asked.

"Right. Or I should say yet further 'left' in how we're charting this. It will slingshot us even further to the left."

"Straight into the field of blue giants?" John asked.

Almost. We'd encounter an orange-red star that stands somewhat in 'front' of the cluster of nebula and stars, by a few dozen light-years. The nebula is not so much a concern as the bluish stars are. They are large, young, very intense stars. In fact, they must be very young for them to be so close to the nebula and not have dispersed that, unless something else we don't know about is sustaining the nebula."

"How close are we going to get to the blue giants?" John asked, knowing the danger they posed.

"Well, given what now appears will be an approach of 155±30 million kilometers from the red-orange star, we've actually gotten a little lucky."

"How so?" Tony asked.

There is a gap among the blue stars, wide enough we can slip through without any radiation worries. With shields, that is."

"Are you certain?" Tony asked the question John did not have to.

"Well, given our current information, yes; but given our current distance, no. At this distance, and for most of the way there, we can only detect the second star's gas giants. We found five of them. I've been intending to check with you about talking to Maya about whether she knows anything about this particular star system -- though unless she knows current planetary positions, I am not sure how much benefit that would be. Still, it would be useful to see if she does."

"How would she know current planetary positions?" Tony asked, dubiously.

"You never know," John said. "What would she be doing now?"

After only the briefest of pauses, Tony said, "Sleeping." He then retrieved the schedule card from one of his pockets. "For another couple of hours."

"Okay, leave her be for now. What about the nebula? Even if we hit the gap among the blue stars, what are the dangers?" He asked his questions more for the benefit of Alan and especially Tony. The astrophysicist knew of Koenig's own astrophysics background.

"Most nebulas themselves are just widely-spaced dust, but there can be more to some of them. The real problem is that it can block our view of what might be behind them. Forming stars, forming planets, white drawf stars, any number of things. Maybe Maya will know at least that, because the nebula spanned about sixteen degrees from Psychon, surely catching their attention or maybe even close-up exploration."

They continued discussing smaller and smaller points, until the commander's commlock beeped.

The miniature monitor filled with Maya's face, surprising him a bit, for it was the first time she had called him. She looked a little anxious, though.

"Commander?" Her tone also sounded a bit anxious.

"Yes, Maya?" he asked, glancing up to Tony for a brief moment.

"Please forgive the interruption, Commander."

"Nothing to forgive; the commlock is meant for communication."

She did not respond directly to his point, instead saying, "Could I please meet with you... as soon as possible," she said.

"Of course. Tony will send someone immediately."

A few minutes later, Maya walked in with Bokessu, an anxious look on her face, then a surprised look, as she pulled to a stop two steps in, clearly not having expected more than the Commander and Tony, much less Alan and a stranger.

Douglas stood up and approached, while Maya stayed put but showed a slight smile and slight tension in her body. John noticed how it was vastly different than how Maya had greeted him after they were past the lioness part. She had been calm and confident then. This Maya looked insecure, offering up an open expression but looking a microsecond from either losing the smile or it growing depending on the other's reaction to her. She was still on edge, and probably would be for awhile. He hoped she would regain some strength even before all the first greetings were finished. A very humble approach suited her at this point, but a little more confidence would be good too.

"Maya, this is Douglas McLeod. Douglas, this is Maya."

"It is good to meet you," Maya said.

"Charmed," Douglas said, extending his hand, and accepting Maya's for a brief handshake, Maya shifting a small piece of paper from one hand to another to do so, and clearly having no idea how to respond to his choice of word.

The immediate greeting done, there was brief silence as they both went to sit down. John was about to ask her what had her awake well before her schedule, when she lurched the conversation past all small talk herself.

"Have you rechecked your course since...?" She could not bring herself to put the last in words.

"Yes, we did," he jumped in, knowing she was referring to Psychon, "and we seem to be taking a good course, but...." He was about to add about their own uncertainty, but her anxious look grew more intense, so deciding to get her to say whatever was on her mind, he simply asked, "What is it?"

"I woke up with a nightmare, not about... usual... things, but something completely different, and it made me to think through your course, adjusting for the... change, and realized you are heading for the Alk^inharda."

"Alk...?" He started, before stumbling over the subtle and pleasant but distinctly alien sound combination injected into the middle of the word, then taking a different course. "The blue giant stars standing in front of the nebula?"

"No, those are... whimsically called the Alk^inharda... Shepherds by many spacefaring races. They are a cluster of hot, energetic stars no one approaches except in very heavily-shielded star'ships--"

"We already determined we are going to slip through a gap among them, even with the swingby within the inner star system of a orange-red star about most of the way there."

"Your closest approach to Redsun will be 143 million kilometers, but that-"

"Exactly 143 million?" Douglas asked.

"I am sorry. 143±2 million. To be more precise I would need to use your computers--"

Douglas looked incredulously at her. "You calculated 143±2 million kilometers without the computer when the best we got from it was 155±30 million?"

"Oh... I... ah..." she looked down shyly, as if realizing she may have just insulted them or their technology or something, and not sure how to answer his question diplomatically, "am good with mathematics."

"And with understatement," McLeod said. "Can I see that?" he asked, pointing to her small sheet of paper. She looked at him briefly, then slid over the sheet. None of the others said anything, letting McLeod talk to Maya a little. The scrawlings made very little more sense up close than at a distance, but the path lines did look recognizable, as did a diagram of a star system. At the top there was a line of characters created from short lines, longer lines, dots, and circles; but elsewhere, there were more complex scrawlings, each pointing to a planet or something. "We picked up five gas giants. How many inner planets are there?"

She looked surprised by the question, blurting "You can't detect the smaller planets from--" before she cut herself off and said, "Sorry."

Though McLeod looked a little put off by her comment, he seemed to stow it, and said, fairly evenly, "No need, we simply don't have the detection capability."

"Oh." She paused, then answered the original question. "Four rocky inner planets, five gas giants, two planetoids about the Moon's size beyond the giants."

"Just how many variables did you consider in your... calculation."

Maya described what she called her "hasty" process of adding more and more variables, until she reached sixteen.

"Sixteen variables. And that's what you wrote?" Douglas asked.

"I had to start writing a few intermediates in this case. Usually I do not."

A laugh burst from McLeod, both for what she had just described being able to do, and for the amusement of her completely missing his point, that it was not how much she thought she had to write, but how little she actually had. "Damn, Commander, I think we just found our backup computer."

"Backup?" Alan, silent for awhile, said. "Just make her the primary. Heck, I'll take her along on any Eagle flight."

Maya looked back and fourth, blushing some but having no hypothesis on how to respond to it, until John finally gave her one, while trying not to diminsh the compliments included.

"Maya, they are exaggerating a little for humor. There is a lot Main Computer can do processing information from various sensors, but at least for astrophysical math calculations, you seem to have it beat."

The same shy half-smile, then: "I did not mean to insult your technology."

Damn, John thought, I wish she would stop doing that so much, especially among no one that is trying to give her grief at the moment. "Maya, there is nothing to apologize for. Let's get back to the Al... what did you call it?"

"Alk^inharda."

They all tried pronouncing it, and all four humans eventually ended up with: "Alkinarda."

"Maya?" Alan asked. "You said the 'Psychon version of the name.' Was it a translation?"

"Yes, it is a Psychon fused contraction of a non-Psychon phrase, Aldinark^ Intar Hartrakonzk Daspa, meaning... Deep'torn Space of the Giants' Fury."

The humans looked at each other.

"Definitely not an encouraging phrase," Tony said, seriously.

"Giants' Fury," McLeod started. "A reference to the blue giants?"

"No, to two legendary peoples who, before Psychon's written history, fought a war in this and surrounding areas."

"Why don't you redraw part of your diagram," Douglas said, handing her a dry-erase marker that had been absently left on the table from a prior meeting, and pointing out the whiteboard behind her.

She got up and went over to it, and immediately started drawing. One "star" with an eight-pointed "asterisk," then another across the board, a bunch of neat little circles for planets, and several courses, only one of which she discussed, describing how their new course through first the outer edge of what she called, rather nondescriptly, the Halfstar system, then the inner solar system of what she had called, just as nondescriptly, Redsun, would put them close to "an ancient planet that will bend your -- our -- course further to the left, into the field of giants."

"Yet you drew a smaller gap right there," John pointed out. "Is that a real gap?"

"Yes, but smaller, as you said. The radiation from the stars--"

"We do have force fields, some thicker bulkheads, and shelters."

"That may be survivable, but not the Alk^inharda itself."

"What is the Alkinarda?" Tony finally asked. "Like a black sun?"

"Black sun?"

"Black hole."

"I don't understand."

John jumped in and described it, and when he used the word singularity and some details about such, she immediately said, "Maybe... like one. Different, but not totally dissimilar."

"We survived passage through one of those."

"Oh?" she said, looking utterly shocked.

"We're still not sure how, but we were left with some impressions, things we cannot quite remember, but...." As always, it teased at the edge of the mind....

"That was a singularity, though. This is a tear, a massive rip. I am not sure I know enough of your physics terminology to--"

"You said it was a singularity, though."

"Like one. Yet different."

"Still--"

"Commander, no one dares venture into the heart of the Alk^inharda. Even the Giants -- the people called that by some cultures in this area -- were said to use this as a battleground or as a weapon. No one is sure what that means. My historical knowledge is poor; but there are legends, ancient poems, describing some of this, and a way of passing through the Alk^inharda, since it spans a few hundred light'years in diameter."

Tony said, "How? I mean where is this found?"

"The planet... the Moon will approach. It is an ancient world, of one of the Giants, who were called, in mythic terms, the Star'movers."

"Star Movers," Tony said, with a slight guffaw. "Who were they warring against?"

"The Star'makers. These are just mythical terms. No one is sure why they were called that; but I know their own real names are long lost to history."

"So what about the passage?" John asked.

"It is called the Alk^inharda Bridge, though people who have gone through it say it is better called a tunnel. But the word Bridge is used because the poems refer to that."

"So...?" Alan asked, getting a little impatient himself.

"I don't know how the Bridge is accessed. It is said that the poems contain the information, but it is all highly metaphorical, and Psychons avoided that region." She wondered if a Psychon ship or two might have headed in that direction during the evacuations some years before; but she had no data on that possibility.

"Do you know the poems?"

"I learned them a long time ago, and it will take me awhile to remember most of them. I only know one readily. It is not the first of the cluster, but it is the most well known."

"Please," John said, waving at the board she was still standing near.

She walked the couple of steps back to it, and away from her diagram, drew two slanting lines at seemingly very precise angles, and slowly wrote lines of English text between the lines, with precision. One by one, the four men stood up and approached. She finished, and erased the two lines, and a neatly arranged poem remained, with a precise shape, and very precise words that John suddenly had a feeling would dominate the next fifty days.

[End of first part]