Psychon history has two phases, one using an old pre-computer calendar, and
one using a new computer calendar based on a radix 16 counting system for all
time increments except days in a month. The former, of over nine thousand
psyears and the latter of over six thousand, is the focus of most of this book.

Pre-history is far less detailed, and will be covered in this chapter. [....]
[S]ome data stand out, especially our legends of the Alk^inharda [...] and
its sudden appearance. It was written that there were numerous 'flashes in
the sky' over many days, followed by 'fearsome ground shaking' and more
flashes, then 'something remarkable' that by the time such legends were
written mysteriously lacked descriptive data. Then, 'many winters later'
the 'slow unfolding of a permanent blue death flower in the sky' that took
'even more winters to finish unfolding' and that 'were destined to remain
forever.' Despite the vague and highly metaphorical words, few Psychons
doubt the 'blue flower' is the Alk^inharda. Given light'time delays of decades,
perhaps we witnessed a single, vastly-spread battle that caused both the
(nearby?) 'flashes,' the 'shaking,' and the 'death flower,' and that it just took
that long for first'light from the Alk^inharda to reach Psychon.

[excerpts from A Brief History of Psychon]

F-347 DAB 1700-2300: Vagueness

"What does it mean?" Astrophysicist Douglas McLeod asked, looking at the poem Science Advisor Maya had written with great care on the board in the meeting room, while Commander John Koenig, First Officer Tony Verdeschi, and Captain Alan Carter also stood around her, studying the words.

"All the poems are metaphorical," Maya started explaining, "but are said to describe the region of space, its dangers, and how to get through some of them."

"Haven't Psychons been here?" Tony asked.

"This region has been avoided. It is possible some were, but I have no data."

"Under glass," Alan mumbled. "Or should it be 'of glass' or 'underwater' perhaps?"

Maya shook her head. "Under glass."

"Two halves of what?" John asked. "The city referred to by the previous line, or the bridge referred to by the next line?"

"I don't know."

"So the bridge is the Alkinarda Bridge?" Alan speculated.

"I assume so."

"What new space?" Douglas asked.

"The other side, I think. I am not much of a poet, or historian."

"You were very precise about this shape," John commented.

"It is famous for having a shape, that everyone works to preserve, even when translating. That was why I was so slow, to check the spacing, though it was not hard in this particular case."

John wandered back to sit down at the table, followed by the others, including Maya. "Why?" he then asked.

"Why what?"

"That shape?"

"Unknown."

"Does anyone use the Bridge for passage?" Douglas asked.

"Yes, it is said there is some traffic, since going around the Alk^inharda takes much more time, not just for itself, but for the interference it generates in some systems -- technological systems."

John leaned forward a little. "So if the poems are metaphorical descriptions of that area and how to get through the dangers, or the Bridge, why hasn't more literal information spread?"

"I think each people, if they learn the secrets, keep them to themselves; or if they spread it some, it never reached others."

"A strategic advantage," Tony commented, to some nods from around the table.

"What happened to those two warring races?" John asked.

"It is said they disappeared not long after their war caused the Alk^inharda to form. I think one poem hints that the Star'movers used the Alk^inharda Bridge as an escape, and left the Bridge behind them. What the Star'makers might have done after that is unknown, I think."

There were more questions, but Maya's answers were most frequently "I don't know" or "I don't recall" -- and the poem remained on the board a tantalizing but vague enigma.

Eventually, Commander Koenig gave orders to Douglas and Maya to work out the astrophysical aspects of the Halfstar and Redsun systems and input the information into Alpha's computer. First, she would have to learn some Alphan terminology for that field. Maybe in addition to her learning, she might teach something as well. "Also, Maya, work on trying to recall the other poems of the... cluster -- and whatever Psychon speculation you may have heard regarding them."

A guard was called. In a few minutes, John, Tony, and Alan remained around the table, quiet for a moment, absorbing the information.

Finally, Tony began commenting. "Vague history and a vague poem from an alien who admits to not being good with either?"

"That and some not-so-vague astrophysical information," John said.

"Hmmm."

"It's all we have to go on."

"More than we usually have," Alan commented.

"Right," John said. "Usually we're barely aware of gas giant planets outside the edge of a star system, and not the terrestrial planets until well inside a system -- and nothing at all beyond that." John sat back for a bit, then leaned forward. "We have a rare opportunity here, of having someone who can actually provide us information about an area of space before we reach it. I say we use as much of that as we can."

"And if she... misremembers, or leaves out some key bits?" Tony asked, in that voice that sounded like he was being more polite in his phrasing than he originally intended.

"I'll take incomplete information over virtually no information. Wouldn't you?"

"With caution," Tony said reluctantly.

A-348 DAB 0000-0110: Fumes

Giles, Sanderson, Cernik, and a couple Eagle pilots were talking, alone in the Recreation Center at a somewhat late hour.

The five of them as a group weren't quite all friends, though some of them were with each other. All had been at least well acquainted for awhile.

They were toasting the recently-lost with what passed for drinks on Alpha. Some quantities of Tony's Beer, sometimes dubbed Tonysbrau or Verdeskunk, the latter not entirely as a joke, as well as other alcoholic drinks that could be called 'moonshine' if it weren't so ironic. No one wanted to call it 'earthshine' -- so most called it shine. Sometimes, though, the smell was a little more potent than the potable liquid itself: quality was variable and mostly not so great.

Some quantities of wine remained from Earth but were reserved for special occasions. Some new wine was being produced from grapes grown by Botany. These grapes were technically earmarked as mostly for food. Some was for juice, with some of the remains redirected towards Zoology for the animals. Sometimes, however, grapes were not used for food or juice but turned into drink, a small amount officially and a slightly larger amount unofficially.

Since all of this alcohol was all in 'microquantities' and totaled barely a fraction of what could be consumed in a typical party on Earth, and since even an officer was producing some, the command corps seemed either fine with it or was turning a blind eye, or both -- presumably as long as it did not get out of hand. Though frowned upon by the ILC back when, they had never tried too hard to clamp down either, and there had never been an incident involving someone drinking too much.

So the five present were raising their first and last alcohol of the last couple of weeks.

"To Roger Hayes," Cernik said.

"To Jane Clemens," Giles said.

Sanderson nodded at the last two, and said, "To Ray Torens."

"To Lew Picard."

"To all those who have been lost," said the last man.

They drank the various fair-at-best liquid concoctions, then slowly sipped more, lingering a bit on a few things more things. Though the official memorial and funerals were planned for tomorrow, there were things this group shared.

Greg sat back. "I finally did have to add a few more things about Jane, and Roger, for Koenig and the chaplain to use. I never did find this sort of thing easy to talk about." It was about all that Sanderson shared quietly.

When talk drifted to other matters, Maya's new assignment came up.

"Science Advisor?" Greg half-bellowed.

"Haven't you read the Electronic Memos?"

"My Electronic Posts are so filled with condolences, and I haven't felt much like reading official stuff. And if that is what's there now, just as well. What the hell is Koenig thinking?"

"Beats me. Outside expert, like Prof. Bergman, I suppose."

"Expert in what?"

"I don't know. The memo was vague. Expertise in various technical and scientific pursuits or something like that. It also said she had to learn our terminology and systems and procedures or such."

"What? If she has to learn it--" Cernik started.

"I'm more worried about just handing over the keys to the kingdom to some alien here."

"What I heard Koenig say that day he brought her back--"

"Mentor was a smooth-talking son of a--"

"That was him."

"Yeah, and we bring back his sweet-talking daughter and just make her Science Advisor and start training her on systems her father probably already scanned?"

"Koenig said she knew nothing of--" Giles again started.

"I thought you said she sort of freaked you out when she first came out of the Travel Tube."

"I'm not defending her. Devil's advocate."

Sanderson snorted. If Giles was playing devil's advocate using words from Koenig, then who was the devil?

A-348 DAB 0930-1930: Vacuums

Maya took several awkward, bouncing steps. The pressure'clothing -- spacesuit as she learned it had been oddly spelled -- despite its bulkiness, did not hinder her too much as she stepped out of the fast-declining artificial gravity field and onto the moondust.

It was over too soon. Maya could have stayed out longer, but Alan brought her back in and then instructed her to remove her helmet and gloves and hold them, but to keep the rest of the suit on.

"How was it?" he asked as he removed his spacesuit.

"Fun," she said with a smile, to which he smiled back widely.

"Any problems?"

"Not after partially adapting to walking in a reduced gravitational field."

"Good. Check your oxygen status, please." She did and reported it, and in response, he said, "That is sufficient."

"For what?"

"I hate to spoil the fun with business, but as long as you were suited up to take your first walk, Commander Koenig asked me to bring you to another section afterwards."

It was an incomplete response, but Maya held her questions. They left, but not without a couple more introductions to pilots, including, again, someone with a degree of muted hostility. Alan himself was a little more muted as well, after that, finally saying, "Sorry about that."

The Commander was waiting for her outside of a strange metal wall in the middle of a hallway. He was in a spacesuit. She exchanged parting'talk with Alan, and greetings with the Commander. Thankfully, the latter skipped the awkward conversation between greetings and main'talk, as she was a little eager yet anxious to find out what the main'talk was about, for he seemed grim.

So did another man that stepped out, also in a spacesuit. There was another introduction, to Chief Architect Alexander Karedepoulos, complete with the handshaking ritual, but while Alexander did not seem hostile, he did not seem friendly either. Was he forcing himself to be even minimally cordial? Maya couldn't tell.

The Commander started speaking. "Maya, this is not going to be an easy task. In fact, it will probably be difficult. I know you have been through a lot, but we have to find out what we can."

At first, she wasn't about to dare ask about what, but then she remembered something....

She had just returned for the horrifying, shattering shock of what she had found in the pits. Totally humbled, ashamed, she stepped in front of the cell where the Alphans were held, and looked towards them, feeling totally humiliated. The Commander noticed her, but then, her father's voice said, "Commander." Quietly, yet... taunting. Everyone turned to the air'image, and Maya watched, to her horror, a new horror, as a landing pad exploded.

She had accused the Commander before, saying 'Is there no vile thing you won't say against my father?' Now, she had been forced to wonder if there was no vile thing her father wouldn't do.

Even as she paused, trapped between the crumbling understanding of her father and the pleas of aliens, another building partially exploded.

She had enough of a mental map of the base to realize this was most likely that latter location. "This is about what my father did, his attack against your city," she said, head down.

"Sorry, Maya. We're not here to force you to confront this; but to ask some questions about molecular transformation and make sure our upcoming repairs are completed correctly. Give whatever answers you feel you need to. Alexander has been instructed to keep information not related directly to the repair itself confidential."

"I understand," she said in a quiet voice.

The strange wall was an emergency bulkhead, a curious word that sounded like a contraction but clearly was not. After everyone put their gloves and helmets on and ran the brief checks of suit seals and equipment, that bulkhead opened, to reveal another beyond it. They walked in, and the first bulkhead closed behind them, the air was drawn out, and the second bulkhead opened.

It wasn't far before she saw the damage, lit up by post'lights. She had tried to prepare herself, but it was difficult to see the damage her father had inflicted on these innocent people's home. She tried to calm her emotions, to let the scientist in her take over. "This is a little new to me," she said, but soon found herself trying to stop from sobbing when she wondered if someone had died here. "I had not seen molecular transformation... in weapon form before," she said with a bit of trembling to her voice. To her surprise, she found she was trying to hold back not just shame, but anger at her father. At what he had done to them, to other aliens, that now she was marooned -- and having to look at the damage of his attack. She pushed the feelings aside. Now was the worst time to try dealing with that seemingly impossible difficulty.

"Take your time," the Commander said, then had Alexander explain what the original metals, alloys, and other materials had been, then what some of them now seemed to be. She did not know some of their terminology for substances, but somehow, she felt the exact substances did not seem like they should matter as much, though she still sought clarification for some words regarding some substances that struck her as interesting. She wanted to be sure she did not overlook something, yet felt she was missing something much more obvious. Finally, she realized what it was.

"Psyche -- the computer doing these transformations of non-biological material -- was designed to seek out veins of similar materials to rework into conduits for itself, to stretch across the planet. That took a special design and instructions to do so; but any material that seems more transformed than others is the type of material you should follow further."

"We did find some evidence of extended areas of damage further away from here, sometimes under the surface," Alexander said. "That is what these outlines drawn on the floor are. Some of them extend like tentacles away from the main damage."

Some of the lines extended away from the obvious damage to smooth parts of the floor, confirming part of the effect to Maya. There was the other part. "There is an... intermittency principal, of jump'surges whereby materials in the process of being artificially transformed would momentarily be in... unequal metaphases, to be imprecise."

"And just what does that mean?" Alexander said rather gruffly.

While Maya tried to think of a different explanation, she noticed the Commander look at the Architect, but had trouble reading his expression through the helmet, or the tone of his voice that followed, "I think she means that the effect could have jumped beyond the edges you found."

The conversational tone, already made a little less clear over the communication systems, made Maya nervous to say anything more, but she had to confirm what the Commander had said. She walked towards ones of the longer-extended outlines. "Yes. Whatever structural material was in the... tentacle could have been fine beyond the tip of this tentacle and been damaged starting again out here," she said as she walked.

"Like a pulsing wave," the Commander said, "momentarily destabilizing the material, only for it to regain original stability for a moment, until the next wave hit it and broke it down."

Maya paused, surprised a little at how his logic'jump was not that far from somewhat accurate, taking her apparently unclear statement, clarifying it, and making an additional supposition. She was going to try further clarifying, but decided they seemed to want to understand the effects more than the causes, at least at this point. "That is a rough approximation."

"Then how many wave cycles?" Alexander demanded.

"How sensitive was your scanner to determine these tentacle'lines?"

"What does that matter?"

"Answer the question," the Commander said.

"It's a stress analyzer," Alexander started explaining, "looking for deformities in various materials. It is a fairly precise and narrow-band instrument that needs to be reset for each of the different kinds of materials." He described it further, including its resolution. He had to clarify the meaning of one unit of measure, and define a couple more for her.

"I understand," she said then. "The integrity resolution at that magnitude would have resolved damage from the third or perhaps fourth wave passing." She realized that probably wasn't clear, so she said, "I mean the stress analyzer should detect one or two more, one of them starting right here, and going to maybe here," she completed after taking a few steps further away from the gaping hole. Then she took more steps, almost to the wall of the room. "Another wave probably starts about here, and goes just beyond the wall." She heard a curious noise over the communications link, a groan maybe. Looking around, she couldn't see anything amiss, and continued. "The initial wave's damage, in the next room, is below the resolution of that scanner."

"If it is below its resolution," Karedepoulos said, "it is well below the level of damage we need be concerned about."

"Maybe, unless it is a mass-holding unit that has been compromised."

Even through the helmet, Maya could tell Alexander was displeased with her observation -- or her mode of emitting the observation. His words confirmed that. "Now wait a minute. You may be the fresh new Science Advisor, but I'm the Architect, and we have precise standar-"

"Karedepoulos," the Commander's voice interrupted. This tone, the Psychon had no problem deciding, was one of displeasure.

After a long pause, Karedepoulos, in a more patient-sounding voice, said, "No, it is not load-bearing. They were secondary conduits leading to an electrical router under the floor. The main explosion was not the router, but I think your fath-... Psyche's damage attacked two materials at once: floor structure as the primary, but the router got caught up at the edge of the main... transformation and sent off those streamers."

Maya quickly processed his hypothesis, also wondering why he now called the metaphorical tentacles streamers instead.

They then left the damaged area and got out of their suits -- after introductions to two Service Section people who had yellow sleeves like Sandra and took the spacesuits, one saying to Alexander, "Yours too, this time: it needs a Level 2 inspection by Technical, due to its increased frequency of use. We should be able to return it in an hour."

Maya noticed him roll his eyes and his head somewhat upward. She saw nothing above him, and did not understand the expression, and looked back to him, only to notice him staring at her with an unreadable expression. It was clear that he did not like her much. He did not seem to want to harm her physically, but his reactions still hurt in another way, as much as she understood he had a mess to fix -- a mess of her father's making, that she herself could help unravel only slightly.

"Alexander," she started saying, "I am really sorry-"

"Maya," the Commander said, and looking over, she saw him shaking his head at her, not angry with her, but seeming annoyed with the Architect when the Commander looked back at him.

The service personnel had left with all the spacesuits, and Alexander soon went as well, saying something like, "I might as well get a meal" as parting'words, leaving her with the Commander.

After a long, uncomfortable pause, all she had to offer at first was an awkward observation: "It appeared many rooms were vacuumed."

"Depressurized," he corrected.

She nodded, but forged on. "Did someone die in one of these rooms? Roger Hayes or Jane Clemens?"

There was a pause, as if the Commander was debating, before he said, "Jane Clemens, two levels below. And don't apologize again for something you didn't do. I know it is painful."

"Thank you for telling me," she said.

"I am sorry about all of that, by the way."

"You don't have to apologize again about asking me questions regarding the damage. It is necessary and no apology was needed the first time."

"I meant about him."

"An apology is hardly necessary. He... all of you-"

"Maya...."

She paused, looked down a bit for a moment, then back up, this time into the Commander's eyes. Abruptly, despite his alien face, she understood. "Apology accepted, Commander. Think nothing more about it."

He returned to his office with her, calling in some others for a different discussion. Then, when that was over and all of the others had left, he sat back for a moment.

Unfortunately, his work wasn't done. He called in Karedepoulos.

"I asked you to be professional with Maya. I'm not sure that qualified, and in fact I ended up apologizing to her."

"Then I think I owe you an apology."

"I think you owe me an explanation first."

Alexander looked at him and sighed. "Some of it was just frustration at hearing just how far the damage could jump."

"And the rest?"

"Her confused explanations, arrogant attitude half the time, and why, with all due respect, is she already Science Advisor?"

"Because she comes from a planet thousands of years ahead of us technologically, is technically oriented even for them, and is willing to help us."

"She didn't even know some basic terms, yet was the one treating us like idiots half the time."

"She was not treating us like idiots. She means no harm, but just doesn't always know what we may or may not know or understand."

"Isn't that the definition of arrogance?"

"She isn't putting on airs of superiority or reveling in her degree of knowledge, and has often apologized when she stumbles into phrasings that she thinks might be seen that way -- sometimes to the point of excess. This means she'll probably be doing that a lot more after your stunts. And if you want to talk arrogance, what about that whole 'fresh new Science Advisor' vs. you being the Architect bit?"

Karedepoulos at least had the good graces to look embarrassed about that. "Okay, that was stupid -- and arrogant."

"But you're still irked that she's taken that position while still having a lot to learn about that. Fine, I can understand that, but she's in the role where I think she will have the most impact, where both she and we will learn the fastest." Given his words and the finality in his tone, the subtext was clear: That is my decision. Get used to it, treat her professionally, or you might not like the result.

"Understood, sir," the Chief Architect said with a professional tone. "I do apologize for the way I acted."

It was clear to Koenig that none of this was warming Karedepoulos to Maya or her role, but that he was truly recognizing that despite his own feelings, he had been unprofessional, and had embarrassed the commander as well.

"Apology accepted."

It had been a day of positives and negatives for Maya. A fun spacewalk outside, seeing the damage her father had done inside, Alexander's attitude, the Commander's apology. Lasagna.

The last had been delicious -- both a delight for itself and a relief considering Tony had made the effort for her over this food. The conversation was mostly procedural, but she did not care about that. She did care more about Tony's approach to her, which seemed to have regressed again, albeit differently. Ever since he had learned she was a metamorph and then had been made Science Advisor, he seemed to be more... distant from her again, more formal. This meal, though he was acting friendly again, was no exception, and that saddened her; but she did not know what to do about it. She could only thank him for finding the good food.

After that, she would be left alone for the rest of second'part, to try to recall -- and contemplate -- what to say tomorrow.

She eventually had to go to sleep.

Her dreams soon turned to nightmares, some on Psychon, some on Alpha, sometimes the former transforming into the latter as she fled pursuers, running about corridors in the Shelter or corridors in Alpha, trying to hide from various alien pursuers who either wanted to hook her up to Psyche, throw her out an airlock or even worse places.

She awoke frequently, in a sweat, awaking into a darkness in some unknown location, leaping off an uncomfortable bed in a dazed state, sometimes thinking in a panic, where on Psychon am I? Finally, she just left the lights on, but opening her eyes directly to an alien scene was barely better, it startling her so much that when she jumped out of bed into a bright, alien scene, she was so startled that she tripped and fell to the floor.

Tense, exhausted, and frustrated, she finally pulled the mattress off the curved bed and onto the floor, rearranged the sheets, and fell asleep there. Surprisingly, she slept better.

M-350 DAB 1500-1700: Flights 1 and 2

Compared with having to speak at yet another memorial and to attend yet more funerals, yesterday, today's meeting seemed almost trivial to Commander Koenig. Yet it was important too, and important to move on.

It was a larger meeting with Maya, a follow-up to prior meetings involving smaller groups. The topics were to be diverse.

There had already been considerable sharing of information from the two meetings Maya had been involved in, but not everyone had been present at both. Now, everyone would get to talk to Maya, partially about the upcoming danger of the Alkinarda, but also to learn more about Maya herself, first-hand.

It was the latter topic which was brought up first, starting with molecular transformation, so some others could try to get more understanding. John, Tony, Helena, Alan, Sandra, and Maya were all present, as was Bob, given he was already aware of her ability. Some previous territory was covered, but then some new questions....

"Can you turn into plants?" Alan asked.

"I can sense their molecular structure, but I am not aware of any with a sufficient nervous system to allow a transformation into. I would be unable to revert. So there has never been any reason or opportunity to try turning into one."

"What happens if you're hurt while in another form?" Bob asked.

"If the other form is going unconscious, that will usually trigger instinctive reversion. If it is an injury, it depends on various factors. I can choose to revert, or continue on; or if not enough of my consciousness is present, well, it can be very complicated, and I'm not sure how to explain at this time." Conscious of who she had gotten a little incoherent trying to explain to a non-Psychon, she was filtering a little more.

"Okay," Alan asked, "this is probably the real question to hate."

"Please, ask," Maya said quietly.

"What happens if the alternate form is... killed?"

"I would die. Also, I don't know if you heard about me being trapped as a smaller form in a cage?"

"Yes, about being... crushed."

"Yes."

There were more questions, on this and then aspects of her technical skills, as well as her progress learning Alphan systems and procedures.

Then the topic of what was ahead of them came up. John introduced the topic of the Alkinarda Complex, summarizing what he knew about it, with Maya re-explaining some of the details for the larger group.

"I also remember another poem now," she then said. "It is the introductory element of the group. May I, Commander?"

He waved her towards the whiteboard, and she got up and walked to it. Away from her space diagram but not far from the shaped poem she had drawn earlier, she quickly added another poem.

"This one seems to lay out the scene a little better," Tony commented, before adding, "but just as vaguely. Ring of station? Rotting cities? A city and its opposite? Need and past?"

"Like one long, run-on sentence," Helena commented.

Tony laughed. "Just like the other one. Whoever originated these passages really didn't believe in short sentences."

"This one is more linear in a way," Sandra said quietly.

"Yes?" John asked.

"It does read more like an introduction, as Maya said. Each line has a certain point, at least early on. The dangerous Alkinarda. Redsun, apparently brighter in the past. The planet. Some sort of ring. Cities. Then one city. That it holds the key. Each line focuses on a smaller-scale detail. The last two lines, I have no idea."

"You're right. Do you have more detail or interpretation, Maya? Especially on the last two?"

"I don't know what the two last lines mean either, but your interpretation of the prior is about what I know. It is thought that Red'sun was once brighter, but Psychons had no historical data on that, that I am aware of. The 'bridges' reference is again probably a reference to both the Alk^inharda Bridge itself and the Bridge of Power -- from the other poem -- that presumably allows control of it. 'Ring of station' I do not understand.

"Rotting cities in the desert are probably old cities, disused and falling apart over time," Tony said.

"Yes, I think so," Maya said.

Alan looked at both poems. "Plus, the 'Frozen city of old' and the... 'City under glass' references in the two poems. If the sun cooled off, maybe it is buried under ice."

"A reasonable hypothesis," Maya commented.

"You mean Psychons were not even aware of a survey of the planet?" Tony asked.

"Little is said by others, beyond confirmation there is a bridge across the Alk^inharda Complex, and that there is a puzzle to solve to use it. I may be forgetting some other detail Psychons were aware of, but there really is not much more."

"But the 'key to safe passage' being in a buried city?" Tony said. "How does anyone find passage through the Alkinarda that way?"

"I don't know," Maya said. "It is known to have been done. That is the central problem to solve."

"Okay, Maya, keep trying to remember more," Koenig said. "In the meantime, let's start planning just in case we do get there."

"In case?" Maya asked.

"We have had frequent course changes from external forces. Fifty days would be an unusually long stretch for us."

"Oh."

"What about settling there?" Helena asked.

"On Bridge'world?" Maya asked in surprise.

"Is that what it is called?"

"Translated."

"How do you pronounce it in Psychon?" Tony asked.

She gave him a puzzled look, then said, "Kaska'lon."

"Kaskalon. That sounds better."

"It does?" Maya looked rather puzzled at that comment.

The Commander stood up and walked over to the second of three whiteboards in the room. Maya's writings were starting to fill up one. Koenig started filling another, first with the word "Kaskalon."

Maya seemed ready to say something as soon as he wrote it, but said nothing, and John then asked, "Is Kaskalon inhabitable?"

"No one lives there. I do not know conditions otherwise. I am not sure trying to settle there is a possibility."

"Despite the strategic advantage of controlling the Bridge?" Tony asked.

"It is said not to be a place to linger. I don't know why."

Tony shook his head, obviously frustrated at the partial information.

She seemed to pick up on it, adding, "I am not good with history."

"You already said that," Tony said.

John gave Tony a 'back off' look from partway across the room, before moving closer to the second whiteboard. "I already see a need for at least two teams. Let's call them Flights, preliminarily. This is all subject to change as we get more information," he added for Maya's benefit, since she was not used to seeing mission planning. He turned to write on the board. He listed Flight 1 to go to the 'frozen city' to hunt for the Bridge key, and including himself and Maya at least, and Flight 2 to visit at least a few 'rotting cities' for salvage opportunities.

"Well," he said. "It is now 350 Days After Breakaway. We'll be in Eagle range for mission launch at 394 D.A.B. That gives us 44 days."

"Usually we're lucky if we have 44 hours," Alan mused.

The meeting continued for awhile longer, before finishing.

It was suppertime, first shift was done, and for the moment, so were immediate duty needs. John and Helena wandered over to his quarters to prepare a meal together. For one of the rare times in nearly ten days, the conversation wasn't about the small space warp, the then-new star system and planet they were approaching, the injured, the killed, the new resident, the unspeakable biological machine, or the damaged base.

For one of the rare times among Alphans who usually found the memories painful, they quietly shared separate memories of Earth. That was until the happy memories turned to wistfulness as the meal preparation finished, followed by the usual difficult feelings of loss of home as the meal went on. They then quietly drifted towards talking about Biosphere IV as they cleaned the dishes, until they finally just walked there. A few others were there as well, but other than simple acknowledgements, there was no rigorous formality in such an informal setting.

The Biosphere was delicately balanced: Various trees, grasses, and other plants, flowers, ants, bumblebees and small non-pest flies, frogs, a small population of purple finches, and various other creatures, all closely monitored, but interfered with as little as possible -- though necessarily so because the overall size was too small to support a population of a typical top predator. Thus, some addition or removal of some animals -- and plants for other reasons -- from or to other parts of the base, was needed from time to time.

Some of the plants produced fruits or vegetables for Alphan consumption. Others were there for other reasons. Some lamented the lack of honeybees to produce honey, but even with all the plants in Biosphere IV and elsewhere on the base, the number wasn't high enough to support a viable series of colonies. There had been some talk about swapping hives back and forth to Earth as needed, if Alpha had grown by a couple more times or been joined by a Moonbase Beta or more, but bumblebee colonies were much smaller and easier to deal with, even if their nesting habits didn't make them as easy to move about.

The doors were a double-door airlock configuration, so people could look for larger insects and small animals while in the airlock, and strong fans could keep pollen and small insects almost completely contained. What little of the pollen that got through was usually quickly filtered out by the rest of Alpha's air system, while what few insects passed usually found too little sustenance and perished. Oddly, the occasional dead fly found in a corner of someone's room seemed more of a sad thing than a nuisance to some Alphans now, perhaps out of a bit of sympathy for just how little life there was on the Moon -- all of it on the main base or outlying research posts -- and how fragile it was. Perhaps it was over occasional flash thoughts about how they themselves could end up in such a state, virtually forgotten in some dusty corner of the galaxy.

Yet it wasn't of such that John and Helena thought about as they just silently walked about Biosphere IV. Indeed, after having talked for awhile, they shared the quiet sounds of the Biosphere, and each other's presence.

T-351 DAB 0730-0800: Hidden Strengths

It was strange, Bill had thought, that he didn't dream of Psychon at all for the first few nights back. Then, it hit, hard, a nightmare of himself, in the chamber of Psyche, having something claw at his mind, feeling his essence being drained out. Each night, it went on longer, and he did not awake quietly, scaring Annie each time. He reported it to Bob, but a sleeping pill the other night only seemed to make his dream worse, dreaming of trying to flee Psychon in an Eagle, only for a semi-sphere to come down over his head right there, strapped in the pilot seat.

It was not long before Annette was trying to pry details about Psychon from Bill. She had already had such a strong reaction to Mentor that he was concerned about adding more to that, or having some of it blow back on poor Maya, either from Annie herself or if she told others.

"You are going to give me more nightmares," Annie said. "Tell me. Mentor obviously hurt you more than me."

"Annie--"

"Bill, I am not going to tell anyone. What did Mentor do that gives you such nightmares, and have you and the others so clearly defending Maya?"

"She helped us. Saved us, really."

"You told me that she helped us, John Koenig said she saved all of us, obviously from her father, but from what in particular?"

Bill said nothing for awhile, but she waited with patience that never entirely ceased to surprise him.

Annie resumed. "What did Mentor do that made John Koenig order Tony Verdeschi to destroy the whole planet, even with himself, you, Helena Russell, and Alan Carter on it, to save us? Why did so many die? What did Maya save us from? What gives you such nightmares?"

He again remained silent, but she stared him down.

Bill could only look at Annie in partial surprise. He had always known she had hidden strengths. She had already admitted that she had fainted and reacted very emotionally during the Psychon encounter, yet seemed to recover quickly, and was now demanding answers.

"It is a horror story."

"That much is already obvious."

He had known she had some strength in her. Still.... "Just telling you may give you nightmares, and I'm not even sure whether the commander intends some details to remain 'eyes only' anyway." Once he said that, though, he realized he was already in for some 'trouble' from Annie. She surprised him again.

"Bill. I swear to you that it is between us. Tell me, that I can understand. Please."

He sighed, considered for a moment -- but there was no real consideration. He told her the story.

She sat through it wide-eyed most of the time, then after they embraced for awhile, comforting each other for the horrors each had been through.

"I'm glad you told me," she finally said, quietly. "I don't understand how you and the others can just keep going on missions--"

"Someone has to. There are only three hundred of us. No one else to fall back on."

"No, I didn't mean that. I understand that, though it is still difficult. I just don't know where you find the strength to do so."

"I thought you said you liked the 'artistic action star' type," Bill joked.

"You're terrible!" she said, but with a beaming smile. "But yes, I guess I do love my artistic action star," she laughed lightly, yet with a serious look too. "Just keep coming back each time." They embraced again and Annette started kissing him, which he more than happily returned, until she drew back, and frowned. "I was awfully rude," she said.

"Was I complaining?" he said ruefully.

"No, I was rude to Maya."

"Maya?"

"When you and the rest returned with her."

"Oh. I thought you handled it well, especially considering--"

"No, even after you calmly introduced her, I was still standoffish."

"Well, I imagine she--"

"Bill, I was the first Alphan she was introduced to on the base, and I acted like you guys had dug up some piece of garbage and dragged it back to base. Do you know her schedule?"

"Huh? Er, no, not really."

"Let's go over to her room and see." Halfway there, Annie added, "We should invite her for dinner at our place."

At this point, Bill ceased being surprised on this occasion. Annie was clearly bound and determined to recover regarding greeting Maya.

They reached her quarters, and Bill called in. "Maya?"

"Bill?" she responded calmly.

"I am here with Annette, just to talk."

"Oh," she responded, less calmly, clearly remembering Annie's response, yet then saying, "Just a moment." The door opened, Maya standing quite far back from it, as if echoing, consciously or not, Annie's distance. "Please enter," Maya said.

The room was like any other single, non-officer's room in the deeper quarters to which everyone had moved, small but sufficient. Hers was almost stark in its austere emptiness. A few pictures hung on the wall, and there were a couple small plants in the room, but it otherwise reflected someone who had not come to Alpha with anything of her past -- except for the greenish dress hanging up in the closet.

Curiously, the comfortable mat of the contour bed was laying upside down on the floor, sheets and pillows on top of it. Maya noticed their gazes, and said, "I am sorry. I cannot sleep properly on these curved beds."

"You should tell someone," Annette said. "Sandra, or Tony, or Helena probably."

"Maybe I will, if I cannot adapt to it."

"You should," Annette said, then changed topics. "Maya, I want to apologize."

"For what?" the Psychon said, appearing most recognizably surprised.

"After Bill introduced you, calmly, I should have approached and shaken your hand or something."

"I accept your apology. Think nothing more of it. We can shake hands now if you wish."

"I have a better idea," Annette said, walking towards the other woman, opening her arms, and embracing Maya, quietly saying, "Thank you for saving Bill's life -- our lives -- and I am so sorry about how much it cost you."

Bill could see Maya's face, and how the Psychon looked surprised at the turn of events.

T-351 DAB 1000-1400: Having a Ball with Technology

Tony came to Maya's quarters. Due to a scheduling quirk, he knew she had ended up eating leftovers in her quarters, for her supper, which today was close to first-shift breakfast. This had worked out well to let him have a brief breakfast with Lena. Now, after some non-Maya-related work taken care of as well, nearing 10:00, he reached Maya's quarters and called in.

Her door opened, and he greeted her. When she smiled a bit and said "Hello," he, for the first time in a few days, thought, Catbird -- the early nickname that had jumped to mind within minutes of his seeing her for the very first time. Why did he keep thinking of that from time to time?

He was used to thinking up nicknames for others. Usually it was with friends or people he knew well enough, meant in a positive way. With Maya, he didn't know why, especially so early; though it had seemed fitting enough at the time, given her vaguely cat-like facial features and her feathery dress. Catbird indeed, he thought wryly now, then realized how wierd his quiet nickname for her had become. He now knew she could actually become a cat or a bird. How bizarrely literal the nickname had been, however unknowingly. Metaphorical to metamorphic.

No, maybe it was time, as best as he could, to set the nickname/whatever aside, as well-meaning it might have been even during his earliest suspicions. Probably not one he should ever mention to her, or anyone else for that matter.

Maya wondered what Tony's strange facial expression was about this time. He said nothing, though, and they reached a laboratory, called in, and went through an introduction.

"Carl, this is Maya. Maya this is Carl van der Mir."

"Good to meet you, Maya," Carl said with a very friendly-looking smile.

"It is nice to meet you, Carl." Maya, almost out of habit now, tentatively offered her hand, and Carl reached forward and took it for a handshake. Maya then looked at Tony.

"Oh, Carl is an electrical engineer."

"An electrical engineer," Maya said with delight.

"Yes," Tony said, smiling oddly. "The Commander wanted you to meet him for a first face-to-face technical discussion session. Carl, Maya here has shown interest in technical pursuits, and we're hoping you can give her a crash course on basic electronics."

Tony signaled Carl to another part of the room, to talk briefly, leaving Maya to look around the room. There were devices and parts strewn all over the room, some in an orderly fashion, some not. She began looking around, not touching anything yet, as much as she wanted to do so.

"Touch whatever you want," Carl suddenly said across the room, startling her. She looked at him, smiling a little as she thanked him. She went right for the individual circuit'planes, picking them up to look at the components, a myriad of different shapes, many labeled with short sequences of Alphan letters and numbers, other letters she recognized from key'boards, and altogether unfamiliar symbols. In a few places on the boards, in equally small letters, there were equally mysterious words like London, Singapore, Hong Kong, San Jose, Chip Falls -- none of which she recognized as words relating to circuitry. One somewhat scratched piece of equipment even seemed to say, as best as she could read given the damage, "Gray" -- even though the word was marked in blue letters on a mostly grey piece of electronics. The associative language hyperarray part for Alphan was, as usual for Khorask-provided linguistic information, sporadic to sparse on technical matters.

Carl left the main room for a back room, and Tony returned to Maya, to check she felt comfortable about Carl, so that Tony could leave. She did, so he left, and soon, Carl reappeared, walking over and saying, "We don't exactly have beginner's reference material, but I get the feeling if I walked through the basic theories, you'll probably recognize them and learn our basic electrical terminology. Then we can move to electrical components, and to circuitry, either today or over a few sessions. Or do you know terminology?"

"My Alphan technical vocabulary is mostly gaps."

"Okay, then I'd say we have a plan."

"Agreed."

Carl started to cover basic electrical concepts, and she started learning the alien terminology, both verbally and written as Carl jotted them on the board. Words like volt, watt, ohm, amperage, hertz, and many more -- as well as single letters and symbols associated with many of them. The concepts were ones Maya had learned soon after learning to read. Carl taught her Alphan electrical equational notation, and was soon having her trying to solve equations which, once she knew the symbology, were trivial, though she didn't dare say it. Even so, she was enjoying herself. It was a humble beginning, but scientific and technological nonetheless. Whatever it took. Carl began pushing terminology and equatational notation at her faster and faster, continuing to test her at various stages, clearly wanting to make sure she was still understanding.

Abruptly, he then offered to get her something to drink. She decided she wouldn't mind a soft drink early today, and asked.

"Sorry, don't have that dispenser here. Coffee?"

"Coffee?" she echoed.

"No one's offered you a coffee yet?"

She shook her head.

"Well, that's tragic. Engineers virtually live on coffee."

She wasn't sure how to process that statement. Surely he didn't mean it was almost their sole form of sustenance. Maybe it was meant to be humorous. Alan had mentioned a sense of humor once. Her own sense of humor seemed to have vanished, though she had increasingly found some things the Alphans did or said to be a little funny, though she didn't dare say a thing.

"Well, not literally," he said, either anticipating her puzzlement or seeing it on her face. He brought a cup towards her. It was steaming off the top, and when he set it down, she saw a brown liquid. "Are you cleared, medically?"

"To try things? Yes."

"Do you want creamer or sugar?"

"I don't know."

"Sorry, force of habit, albeit momentarily delayed. Try it this way first."

She found it a bitter though mildly palatable drink, not totally unlike tea, but nowhere near as delicate. She wasn't much of a tea drinker back on Psychon, which seemed more like funny-tasting hot water than something interesting to drink, but this was too much the opposite direction.

"Uh, maybe both creamer and sugar for now. It is an acquired taste, but almost everyone drinks it, poor a substitute as it sometimes seems."

He took it back, and when he returned, it was a lighter shade of brown, swirling some, sweeter, and with some other, lactose-like taste to it. Much better. "This is good."

He laughed a little for some unknown reason, and said, "There, sip on that. I was joking before. Too much coffee is not good either, but a cup now and then can give a little boost of energy."

They proceeded to basic electrical components next, Carl often grabbing some circuit'plane, seemingly almost at random, to point things out. She looked at some of the components closely again, and was seeing some now-familiar symbols, and the meaning of the numbers was much clearer, and usage hypotheses were starting to form in her mind as the patterns of their circuits became increasingly clear.

"Well," he said, "that was by far the fastest crash course from electrical theory to device identity I've ever taught. Quite enjoyable, actually."

He went to another room, and emerged carrying a moderate-sized metal case. He set it down in front of her. He opened it up, and inside were a lot of what looked like tools, as well as some small devices. He began explaining, and sure enough, it was a tool'box for working on circuitry. Analytical tools, manipulative tools, even some constructive tools, some of which he advised her to use infrequently and briefly for now, with the room fans running high, until she could get a proper lab.

He grabbed another box labeled 'recycle' and put it on the workbench as well,

"Are you giving me these?" she asked.

"They're all non-functional or partially functional but irreparable to the quality needed. We mostly just recycle it, but you might as well learn what you can from them. Feel free to pick them apart or whatever. Just keep safety in mind, especially with the capacitors. Here, let me find a few small power cells. They won't accept much in the way of recharging anymore, but should let you try out the circuits, or even try cobbling some together yourself and testing your own results. Even creating nothing useful, I think you can try learning proficiency that way."

Later, in her room and now alone, her hair down prior to sleep, Maya stared at the tool'box. She had been given a book as well, however. So she grabbed it and took it to the bed, already liking the flatbed a lot, and being able to sit on its mattress and read.

In yet another recent meeting with her friend Helena for further medical discussion, Maya had been asked about her sleep again, and again not wanting to describe the contents of her nightmares, Maya instead finally decided to admit she had trouble sleeping on the curved bed. This way of stating it left it up to Helena whether to suggest a replacement. Helena didn't even ask, immediately calling Sandra to request she make arrangements for her bed to be replaced. This had become a slightly complicated procedure considering Maya's security situation, but had gotten her a couple more introductions as two men hauled in the components for a flatbed, assembled it, and removed the curved bed. Helena had made it so simple that Maya now had a pang of regret at not trusting Helena to respond well to her trouble. Maybe sleeping with more physical comfort would help lessen the nightmares, though she had no illusion about it solving them easily.

Not even an hour later, she was starting to get sleepy. Learning to adapt to everything being alien was both a little easier and yet, in a contradictory fashion, more fatiguing, than she had expected. So she set the book on the night'stand, put the medical monitor back on again, and slid deeper into the bed, looking at the tool'box and the brown box of circuit boards, and thinking of Alphan generosity for some moments before reaching for the commlock to turn out the lights.

Maya slipped off to sleep thinking not of mixed memories, nor trying to 'cocoon' herself, but with a slight smile.

Helena checked the readings again. The linkup to Maya's wrist monitor had gone active, and after checking once and awhile, Helena found the lowest readings yet. Usually, Maya had grown anxious over the first ten minutes before fading. She finally seemed to get a chance to go to sleep calmly for a change. These were the lowest readings yet from the Psychon, among the calmest she had seen from any healthy person, some even a bit lower -- except for the brain activity, which even in Maya's deepest sleep seemed active.

Helena had no doubt the struggle would continue, but smiled at this small sign of improvement.

T-351 DAB 1100-1600: Memorph

It had not been that long since Maya had arrived on Alpha, and she had not met all that many people yet. It was time, though. John looked at the Electronic Memo, whose text -- which spanned a couple of pages on the small monitors (and was titled simply "Maya"), read:

All Personnel, Alpha Moonbase: As you well know, Maya recently joined us, and is now duty posted as Science Advisor. Some of you have met her, and a few of you have had some discussions with her, and have hopefully found her a friendly woman eager to be welcomed and befriended. From the start, she asked me to advise everyone of a certain fact, that I chose to temporarily withhold, to give her a fair chance to make the positive impression and receive the welcome she deserves. However, despite that, it is time that everyone be aware of a unique talent she comes to us with, one which I believe will be useful and helpful to all of us at some points, one which everyone should be aware of but not afraid of. Maya is what Dr. Russell has termed a metamorph, a person capable of changing her biological form into other biological forms, including animals she has knowledge about, for up to an hour at a time. It is a talent she believes is unique to her people, and one she has assured us, to my complete satisfaction, does not give her any ability to read minds, nor any other nefarious intent. I know this may make some of you fear her, or be more nervous or suspicious in general; but it is something she was willing, from almost the moment we welcomed her, to set aside and never use again. I refused that offer, in part because this skill could be helpful to us on missions or other situations. We are all very talented people at what we do. Unique talents abound, and I ask all of you that you treat this accordingly, not with fear or loathing, but simply one more skill added to Alpha's considerable pool of such skills. I also ask that you not let your curiosity run amok either. I will not tolerate any pointless requests for her to exhibit transformation just to see it, or for other poor reasons. I have ordered her to report any incidents she feels uncomfortable with. If you have concerns about this ability, or my decision-making process regarding it, please take it up with me or an officer. Let us all be professionals, and treat Maya with the respect she deserves, in this and other matters. Cmdr. John Koenig

It was a strange situation to have to post something like this, but absolutely necessary, for if Maya had to be called on to use her gift, no one would benefit from someone freaking out about it.

To his disappointment, on returning to the AIS a few hours later, John found two attempts to cancel training sessions with Maya. Both had excuses, and it was difficult to tell from just terse written words whether they were good excuses or flimsy; so the Commander immediately contacted each.

Both had claims of other urgent work, but on stressing the importance of the cross-training, one eventually relented, while the other did not. He pressed the latter on whether it was the recent memo, even adding, "I already wrote that she's not about to use it against us" -- but to no avail, and denials that was what it was about.

Unfortunately, it was a man John had thought of in regard to the as yet unformed Science Board. While the Science Officer would be its chair, any Science Advisor would have been a member, and having a board already immediately crippled with clear personal difference was an unwanted and perhaps major problem. Differences of opinion were good and even vital, but outright animosity was highly counterproductive. Whether this cancelled session represented such or just an understandable need for self-adjustment on the part of the individual, John was not sure.

He decided not to press now, and maybe give the scientist time to reconsider his knee-jerk reaction further.

W-352 DAB 1400-1800: Seeing Orange and Red

Janina had been looking forward to the planned technical discussion with Maya for some time, and was at her office in Nuclear Generating Area 2 early. She had asked George Crato and Jennifer Cranston to work on tasks at the back portion of the area initially, until they were called or approached for introductions. Janina was sensitive to Maya's security, since Tony was still in the extended process of introducing her around. The supervisor and security officer had discussed it briefly when the arrangements had first been made. Janina had already interacted with Maya over other topics, but nothing professional, and Janina had been looking forward to this opportunity for days. Janina was definitely very curious how such a conversation with Maya would be, and had never talked to an alien over technical matters before.

She wondered about the whole Science Advisor thing, suspecting that Maya could perhaps even be the Science Officer at some point. Janina had already been hearing from others that Maya was knowledgeable in general, and from Carl heard she was, so far, a quick study on the particulars of Alphan technology. Yet Janina understood that Maya had to prove herself able to at least have some aptitude for some of the other roles of such a position, such as exploratory missions, supervision, etc.

The metamorphic ability was truly amazing, and one which Dr. Conway still could not comprehend as possible. She just had to accept as one of the many strange things in these deep depths of space -- at least for now, until she could ask some questions about that, if Maya did not mind.

At the appointed time, Janina left her office, had the two others move to the back of the room. She wandered near the door, once again looking at her sheets full of questions and lists of what she wanted to discuss with Maya.

Verdeschi soon called in from the outside. Janina had already been close to the door, so she let him and Maya in. After the door closed behind them, Janina checking that it was locked, they chatted there for a moment, Maya in front of the door but starting to look around, with an unexpected expression on her face, one Janina could not quite interpret.

Verdeschi also clearly noticed her looking about. "What?" he asked Maya, seemingly puzzled yet suspicious.

"I like the color. The orange is very soothing."

"Soothing?" Janina asked in mild surprise, since orange dominated here as a sort of warning color, for those stepping in -- and a reminder for those working here -- to take this place seriously. Though it was a shade of orange that was not jarring, that no one really minded, 'soothing' was scarcely the word either.

"Most indoor spaces had this as a dominant color," Maya continued.

"Really? Why?" Tony asked with an odd expression.

"Why? We liked it. I don't know why. I am not sure if anyone knew."

"Huh," was Tony's puzzled response.

"Well, I'm glad you approve," Janina said with a smile, trying to smooth over the security officer's reactions.

"I am sorry. I did not mean to... sidetrack the conversation."

Janina ignored the unnecessary apology, finding small talk with Maya was actually quite interesting too. "You would probably like my office even more: it has orange wall panels as--"

Just then, the locked door opened unexpectedly behind Maya. All turned, and Janina could see that Maya, closest to it, was face to face with, of all people, Greg.

Tony heard a too-familiar voice bellow, "What the hell?" It was Sanderson. In an instant, he knew this would go bad.

Maya took one step backwards, and though Tony could not see Sanderson, he moved to intervene. In a likewise too-familiar fashion that was to his advantage, time seemed to slow a bit. He could not see Sanderson, but just assuming -- practically knowing -- what would probably follow, he moved to pull Maya away from the door. It was too late to pull out his stun gun, and Tony was glad that while on bereavement leave, Greg could not carry a stun gun. So he grabbed for Maya and practically threw her aside, just as she was starting to slowly react.

Unfortunately, Sanderson's fist still struck a glancing blow to Maya's cheek. Sanderson pushed in, and without even looking at Tony, pushed him hard. As Tony fell back, he saw Maya, off-balance from both Sanderson and Verdeschi, stumble backwards a number of steps, reeling towards another nearby wall, turning just enough at the last second to put her hand out to absorb some of the blow.

Tony had hit the ground, while Sanderson yelled, "Joan, call Security!" Tony's call of "Stand down, Sanderson!" was partially obliterated by Joan's yell of, "Greg, no!"

Tony rolled a bit, already reaching for his sidearm, but now Joan was in the way as Sanderson advanced on Maya. "Stand down, Sanderson!" he yelled again, except the wild man was yelling at Maya: "What the hell are you doing in a secure area?"

Tony was starting to get to his feet as time remained 'slow' -- while Maya was just standing with her back to the wall, starting to move away, further down the length of the wall.

"I was asked--" Maya started, only to be shouted at again.

"Liar! You Psychons are all smooth talkers or sweet talkers."

"Stand down!" Tony yelled, but Sanderson's advance now had Maya cornered, and Tony could see the tension in Sanderson's body -- that he was ready to do serious damage. Why doesn't she defend herself? He knew he would not reach her in time and did not have a clear shot against Sanderson. "Maya, transform!"

She just backed up some more steps. Sanderson swung his hammer of a fist, and Maya cried out in fear and let herself collapse to her knees, missing the blow.

"Stop it, Greg!" Joan shouted, now running towards him, ahead of Tony.

"Maya, transform!" Tony, on his feet and running towards them, pushing Joan to the side, shouted again.

Maya, on her hands and knees, looked up into Sanderson's face and saw rage in his eyes. In an instant, she was infuriated, angry at his reaction to her, and her own frustrations and fears boiling up into her sudden anger. Tony's shouts of "Transform!" ringing in her ears, she abruptly let herself 'see' the animal she had found out from Commander Koenig that they feared, that she had learned had a truly nasty growl. To speed up the metamorphosis, she mimicked aspects of its growl on her own face, and found it was not difficult to emulate at this moment.

Greg's eyes caught Maya's. He saw his own rage promptly "reflected" back as an inhuman expression came over her face, the likes of which he had not seen before. Her outline abruptly turned fuzzy, and almost instantly, turned to a hazy light covering and obscuring her whole form. Completely bewildered, and wishing he had a stun gun, he instead kicked at the light. What he got back an animal's snarl of pain and rage, and in the blink of his eyes, found himself staring not at a bizarre alien female's face, but at the frightening face of a snarling lioness. Thinking he had gone mad, he reeled, backwards, stumbling, and went down in a heap against who he thought was Joan. He didn't even hear the sound of a male's grunt as they both hit the ground, but Greg immediately started getting back up.

Moments before, Tony could scarcely see what Maya was doing -- since Sanderson was standing over Maya -- even as the security officer ran to intercept the security guard. Tony heard a humanoid snarl of some kind, then saw Sanderson give Maya a kick, eliciting a new, animal snarl. Before Tony could react to the realization Maya had transformed, Sanderson stumbled backwards into him, and they both went down. Tony had no idea where his laser had gone to, as Sanderson immediately started trying to get up, shoving Tony back hard; but this time, Tony, even on the floor, had a counter-response, using his own leg to sweep Sanderson's leg off the floor and knock him back down. Tony then rolled and slammed a forearm onto Sanderson's upper chest, then pressed it to his neck. "Either stay down, or face her," he said, flicking his head towards Maya/lioness, drawing Sanderson's gaze that way too. Maya/lioness took one step forward, and as if for emphasis, growled again.

"That's Maya?" Greg finally choked out.

"Of course it is Maya. Do you know of any Alphan who could do this, or any other lionesses on Alpha?"

It made absolutely no sense to Greg. He closed his eyes, looking away from his illusion. What was he doing? He pushed aside the thoughts of the lioness, but could not push aside the knowledge his attack on Maya was real. What the hell is happening? Or was he going insane?

"I didn't know you were here with her," Greg finally admitted.

"Of course she is here with me," Tony said, deciding it was about the lamest attempt at an excuse he had heard, yet also surprised he was defending the Psychon so vociferously when Tony could understand the distrust many had. Of course, while suspicious of her himself, Tony had never wanted to see Maya hurt. Sanderson was clearly not of the same mind, or out of his head right now.

"Fine," Sanderson relented in voice tone and body tone, letting his muscles relax. Verdeschi started easing back. He stood up slowly, both from being bruised and from not being sure exactly how Maya would perceive the situation. He carefully stood, partially but not entirely between the lioness and Sanderson, trying to think that his back was facing Maya and not one of Earth's most feared predators, even as the hair stood up on the back of his neck.

At some point, probably early on, Cranston and Crato had appeared, but were hanging well back, which at this moment Tony could well understand. It was a first to witness a fight where one of the combatents could turn into another form to defend herself.

"Watch him," he said to Maya, finally turning briefly to see she was still a lioness. He had no idea if she could understand his words.

Tony found Joan was holding his stun gun, pointing it at Greg. He wanted to move to her to retrieve it, but realized he had no clue how Maya/lioness would react. He did not want to call Joan over either, so he looked at Maya/lioness, trying to gauge the reaction of... her. What he got back was a calm look, perhaps not really intelligent per se so much as I see you and don't really care what you do. Finally, he decided to trust that even if she was more lioness than Maya at the moment, that she had given her alter form enough instruction or something, and moved slowly towards Joan. The good thing, Maya/lioness almost immediately sat down, while still staring intently at Sanderson, and Tony moved more quickly to retrieve his laser from Joan.

He got it from her without any difficulty, and himself trained it on Sanderson. With his other hand, reached for his commlock and called Bokessu and Jackson in, then called up the commander. "John, we've had an assault in Nuclear Generating Area 2. Please come down here immediately. I have already called backup."

"Maya?"

"Yes. It's very minor, I think; but send Medical anyway."

After the conversation was over, Tony looked at Maya, who was still the lioness. She was simply staring at Sanderson, not growling or approaching, just sitting there and staring. Tony was tempted to just let her keep doing that, but Sanderson wasn't looking at her at all.

"Okay, Maya, you can turn back." When nothing happened, he tried to think of the other word. "Revert," he said. He could immediately see she understood that, getting a clearer view of the lioness's outline turning fuzzy, but forcing his gaze away, keeping awareness of the big picture, namely Sanderson.

Janina kept her distance. No longer having to keep an eye on Greg, she watched, fascinated, as the metamorph reverted, and could scarcely believe her eyes as the outlines of the lioness grew fuzzy, then hazy light quickly covered her, the light changing shape and soon starting to fade, Maya starting to stand up even before she had finished. The Psychon immediately put her hand to her cheek, then looked at her other hand briefly, before looking at Sanderson, Tony's back, and Janina in turn, with a subtle, unreadable expression on her face.

Janina moved towards Maya, keeping her distance from Greg and Tony.

Just then, Security arrived, except it was Giles, who took in the scene but then pointed his sidearm not at Sanderson, but at Maya, who froze, causing Janina to freeze and look back.

"Giles, what are you doing?" Verdeschi asked.

"Someone found me in the hall and said she heard some commotion from inside here. What's going on?" he asked.

"Stop pointing your weapon at Maya. Sanderson is the problem."

He shifted the focus of his weapon, and Maya visibly relaxed while he said, "Sorry, sir; it looked like she was involved in a fight."

Bokessu arrived not long after, took in the whole scene instantly, and moving to avoid cross-fire, trained his stun gun on Sanderson, allowing his boss to check on Maya. Jackson arrived a moment later.

"I'm okay, it is just a bruise," Maya said.

"Your hand is cut," Joan said, noticing the blood was red, like a human's. It was only a relatively small cut, but she realized immediately it was probably from a control on the wall. "Excuse me a second," Joan said, promptly checking the controls, and finding a minor one was indeed thrown and broken off, though leaving a small stem which she was able to switch back.

Well, just what I hoped would not happen, Commander Koenig thought as he headed as quickly as possible to NGA-2, meeting Helena on the way.

On entering NGA-2, he saw Giles, Tom Jackson and, further into the room, Bokessu aiming stuns gun at Sanderson, who was just picking himself off the floor, standing to his full height and smoothing out his clothes, staring at Maya, who held his gaze defiantly for a few moments before looking at Tony. Tony was near Maya but mostly keeping an eye on Sanderson, while Maya, holding a hand to her cheek, was now protesting to Conway that, "it is nothing."

The commander turned to his security officer. "What happened?"

Tony started giving a quick summary, while Helena arrived and moved to Maya, whose protests only grew: "I've been hurt worse playing outside as a child."

"Let me take a look," Helena was calmly insisting.

After the commander got an explanation from his security officer, including about his being knocked down after throwing Maya aside, and about Maya reluctantly transforming into a lioness. Now that is a better context, John couldn't help thinking. Koenig turned to Conway, and asked, "Is that what happened?" Standard procedure. Immediately corroborating witness statements in a brief manner.

Greg looked at her, but she ignored him, and simply said, "Yes, Greg let himself in without announcement, then attacked Maya the moment he saw her."

"I did not see Mr. Verdeschi in here," Sanderson protested. "I thought it was a security breach."

"I shouted for you to stand down," Tony continued.

"I didn't hear you."

"So you just tried to knock her head off?" Joan said.

"Sometimes you just have to react on instinct."

"Or festering anger? You've been on her case from the beginning. We've argued about it repeatedly. You just wanted an excuse."

"Joan," he almost growled, as if betrayed. Everyone's eyes snapped to Sanderson, including Maya's. He was clearly on the defensive, not the least bit contrite, and John believed Conway more than Sanderson.

Before he could proceed, Sanderson got in more words. "Joan, I can't believe you are sticking up for her, after her people -- her own damn father no less -- killed my fiancée, who was your best friend too."

"Greg..." Joan said, clearly sad and disgusted he should stoop to such a statement.

"Enough," the commander said. "Maya, are you okay?" At first, she did not respond, looking at Sanderson and then Conway with a very pained expression. "Maya...."

She seemed to snap out of it. "I am okay. It is nothing. A misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding? Like hell it was!" Tony protested. "Didn't you just hear Joan?"

"Tony," John said, in his I've-got-this-covered way, then turned to Sanderson. "Greg Sanderson, you are charged with assault and battery, among other things, and confined to quarters, pending a review."

Maya's face looked horrified. "You don't have to hurt him," she protested, also sounding a little angry.

"What?" John asked, baffled and a bit annoyed.

"He did not hurt me as much as that."

"As much as what?"

"Charging him with a battery!"

For a second, it was clear no one had a clue what Maya was trying to say. Then it dawned on John. "Maya, it is not an electrical thing; it's legal terminology." The Psychon looked both relieved and confused. "Tony, have him removed; you stay."

"Bokessu, Jackson, get him out of here. Giles, remain here."

Greg looked at Joan, but she shot him an angry look, then looked towards Maya and Helena, obviously making it very clear whose side she was on.

John explained further. "Maya, the 'charge' is the official accusation. 'Assault' is the malicious attempt to cause injury. 'Battery' is to actually cause malicious injury. There is a bit more to all of it than that, but that is the simplest explanation."

"Oh, thank you. He didn't hurt me too--"

"He hit you. Left marks too. That is it. I will handle this now. Tony, what about you?"

"No, I'm fine," Tony said. "I just ended up on the floor twice, once from him throwing me there and once from him running backwards into me." He had a sheepish look about the first part.

Maya finally let Dr. Russell draw her injured hand from her injured face, and everyone could see both injuries did appear to be relatively mild. A bruise was developing, but was of moderate size, and she had perhaps avoided most of the blow's energy. Still, as a precaution, Helena broke out a small chemical ice pack and started it mixing. Maya gave it an odd look, but took it when offered, and upon feeling the cold on the skin of her hand, understanding immediately came over her face, and she said, "Clever, a simple endothermic chemical reaction," as she put it to her face. She then added a verbal "Thank you" to Helena.

"No," Helena said, "use your other hand, I need to check this one." It was only a small cut, which was scarcely bleeding anymore. There was little they had to do but clean the cut.

"Why didn't you transform right away?" Tony asked, to John's surprise given his prior reactions on hearing about metamorphosis.

"I didn't want to hurt him."

While Tony looked surprised, John, having a good idea there was more to Maya's answer than her actual response, jumped in, and in as gentle yet firm a way as possible, said, "Well, you didn't, which means you could have done the same thing sooner. You had every right to defend yourself after he threw the first punch like that, and I want you to. You have an incredible gift, and don't stop yourself from using it for fear of us reacting negatively to you."

She didn't look at him. "But they will, won't they? When they hear about this, they'll think I must really be an... animal... or someone to fear."

"Maya, you are not an animal. All of us here know that, and we will handle any mistaken impressions from elsewhere. Once you did transform, you handled yourself well, and I trust you will do the right thing. Just promise you will defend yourself."

For the first time in a number of seconds, she looked at John. Finally, she nodded, then said, "Yes, Commander, I will."

Briefly, he felt like he had just, momentarily, stepped into a role not unlike her father's, trying to instruct her on the right way to use her metamorphic skills. Even though her ability was utterly alien to him, outside of any frame of reference he had known, many things, including his past and now a year in interstellar space, had made him used to having to expand his frame of reference at a moment's notice. He had quickly understood Maya's reactions and how to respond with the right words to get her to understand in turn, to bring it all to a person-to-person level, and at the same time, make her ability seem less alien and "just" a skill Maya happened to have, and just, in this context, needed more backing up on.

Just then, Tony took the opportunity to call Giles forward and introduce him and Maya formally. It was still not a particularly warm greeting, but it was more courteous and professional than his very nervous reaction on Maya's arrival and what John later found out was his pointing a weapon at Maya when he arrived in the NGA.

Helena ordered Maya to Medical Center for a scan, overriding more "I'm fine" protests with "I want to scan for myself. Standard procedure." Maya finally relented and left with Helena, Tony and John right behind them, quietly discussing the incident in further detail.

After almost everyone had left, and Janina had sent George and Jennifer back to work elsewhere in the NGA, she was left much like fifteen minutes ago, but now fuming at Greg. Angry he had attacked and hurt Maya. Angry he had done it here in Janina's workspace. Angry he had not listened to anything she had said. Even angry he had ruined the meeting. Now poor Maya could not come here without remembering the whole ugly incident.

She walked over to the scattered sheets of paper on the floor, where she had dropped her lists at some point she couldn't even remember. She picked them up, noticing one had a boot print on it, then took them back to the office and tossed them on the desk. Unused, unasked, unanswered -- for now at least.

For a moment, she was surprised she was taking the visible manifestation of Maya's unique skill in such stride. She found it absolutely amazing, to be sure, as she played back in her mind what she had seen -- still feeling some disbelief despite having witnessed it for herself. Yet as far as Janina was concerned, it did not matter as much what Maya could do as what Greg had done to her without provocation and with the feeblest of excuses.

There was no need to even think about things any further. As best friend of Jane Clemens, Greg's late fiancée, Janina had tried to help him through his loss, even as she tried coping with her own pain of loss. She had put up with all his outbursts about Mentor and Maya, had tried to argue Maya's innocence, had given him extraordinary patience, trying to get him past some of his pain and misplaced anger. She realized with disgust that all her attempts had been for utterly for naught -- wasted time on a man who had never really wanted to listen. She did not regret the attempt, waste or not; but she was done with him.

"I am so sorry, Jane," she quietly whispered to the air. "Your fiancé was a good man, a strong man; but I think he was lost that day too. You never met Maya, but I can see she is a good person, and I have had enough of his verbal and now physical attacks against her. I failed. I cannot do any more for him. Please forgive me."

There was no answer from the air, yet Janina felt she knew what the answer from Jane would have been.

In Medical Center, Maya's protests continued. There was no need to make her change, but she lay on the bed while Helena checked out the bruise and made sure the cheekbone was not broken.

"Helena, I'm fine."

Despite it sounding like Maya's usual tendency to downplay her own feelings, Helena silently agreed with Maya's assessment, while starting to recognize Maya's responses weren't just her usually mode of downplaying, but starting to assert herself a little, giving her the feeling that Maya might become an impatient patient, not unlike so many others she knew. It was something of a good sign in a way, even if it would sometimes get in Helena's way.

"So just how much did you understand of the situation when you were a lioness?" Tony asked Maya.

"It is difficult to explain. There was not that much of my mind active in there, but enough... room that I could think a little, and not have to hardwire a lot of instructions. I could not understand most of your words, except I did bring in enough to interpret when I could safely revert. With practice, I could probably improve that -- somewhat. There are absolute limits."

John and Tony left for Command Center, reassured a concerned-looking Sandra that Maya was basically fine, filled her in who had done it, and instructed her to have Computer limit his commlock and computer access to emergencies and official material only, respectively.

As was standard procedure with other formal charges, he wrote a public disciplinary electronic memo to everyone. Given they were not under alert condition or other urgent circumstances, he was required to post it ASAP. Simple if brief, and nearly immediate disclosure would help set up some degree of clarity before the rumor mill could get going. It inevitably would anyway, but some perspective was in order. Further detail would be for the officers and for Sanderson's file only, once further review was done and any further punishment was meted out.

Benes indicated Sanderson's access was now limited. He nodded, posted the notice, and followed it up with a brief one indicating Maya's injuries were superficial.

He and Tony left to meet privately, and started talking about Sanderson.

"I don't know if limited access and contact will work," Tony stated.

"Maybe not, but let him think about consequences for a little while."

"Not to sound redundant, but I don't know if that will work either."

Koenig shrugged. It was the right course, and they couldn't control Sanderson's reactions.

"John, unless he shows real, deep contrition, I don't want him in Security anymore. His just using his commlock access to walk into the NGA that way, and letting loose against Maya like that, is not the level head I need in Security, bereavement or not."

"If you need some time to consider..." John offered. He already agreed with Tony's assessment, but wanted Tony's reaction to the offer.

"No. There are matters of trust when it comes to Security, of being trustworthy, and Sanderson broke them. Before you say anything, my caution about Maya never meant I wanted to see her hurt, attacked without provocation."

"I know."

"I'm sorry this one slipped by," Tony sated. "I should have checked with him more often, or asked some more questions."

"Let's just deal with it. Write up your statement. Final decisions will be made then."

"Understood. Oh, and from here out, Bereavement Leave procedure in my section will not just mean temporarily surrender of sidearm use, but immediate reprogramming of that person's commlock to remove the additional Guard-level access rights, like what Sanderson abused. If you approve. I am sort of surprised the ILC or WSC or someone didn't have that as a rule in the first place."

"I do approve. Also, we'll have to question this officially, but unofficially, any idea why he just walked in like that?"

"I suspect it has something to do with Clemens and Conway being friends -- best friends I think."

"What, that Conway and Sanderson were probably hanging around each other a lot, trying to talk through their shared grief or something?"

Tony both nodded and shrugged. "Something like that, I think. At least I hope this was the only reason he was -- that he wasn't abusing access rights in a lot more cases or for a lot longer."

"Okay, we'll figure it out during inquiry."

Greg Sanderson alternatively fumed about Maya, and about himself. He was suspicious of her, and was still angry over her father killing Jane, and Roger. He had always had a temper. Yet punching a woman, even a strange-looking alien one? Where had that come from?

At the same time, where had the madness come from? Images of Maya disappearing into fuzziness and a lioness replacing her? Tony calling the creature "Maya" -- and everything else.

Was he going insane?

He paced his quarters, feeling hemmed in.

Finally, he logged into the AIS, but found the more interesting sections closed off, leaving nothing but stale official memoranda.

There was the one about Maya posted recently that he had skipped over before. He sighed, and decided to read it. There it was, about her being able to transform. The CMO even had a term for her: metamorph.

Oddly, Greg suddenly felt relief flow through him. He was not going mad. The alien had a freakish power, and he was never so relieved in his life.

W-352 DAB 1800-1930: Uncanceled Dinner

Maya stood in front of her mirror, she looked at the bruise on her face. Considering that if it had been other aliens, she could perhaps be much worse off now, or even just scattering molecules around Psyoliyask, this was minor. Yet it still hurt -- not just the bruise, but the intent behind it. Attacked randomly because she was standing in a room into which she had been invited, but which one man did not approve of. Sanderson had seen her as a threat.

She tried to think of what else she could do to demonstrate she was not, but had trouble thinking of anything more. She wondered if that was what she could expect now, occasional random attacks. Would every door opening be the chance of someone coming to hurt her? If she ran into someone walking around a corner, would she end up being shot by one of them?

Janina's kind words had soothed Maya somewhat about Jane, but the tinge of feelings of guilt remained, and she felt a little trapped.

She found that on Alpha, at least at this moment, she did not like sitting alone in a room with her thoughts.

Back on Psychon, her world's ultimate fate had weighed on her mind, and she was not unaware that it could have gone badly, but this was one scenario she had not considered.

She struggled with her thoughts for awhile, but as 18:00 drew closer, she started looking forward to dinner with Bill and Annette. Thankfully, they had not cancelled after what had just happened; and fortunately, Tony remembered Maya had, before the meeting with Janina, told him about this dinner, and he now showed up to take her there.

He asked how she felt, seeming genuinely concerned. She said she was fine. He apologized for the incident having even occurred, especially in his presence. She almost brushed it aside, as so much else, but instead decided to accept the apology, as she had the Commander's over Alexander.

Around every corner and near every door, she looked nervously, and this only seemed to bother Tony, though she wasn't certain.

Tony left her at the Fraser quarters. Bill and Annette both seemed shocked about the bruise.

"It really doesn't hurt much."

"Still..." Annette said, "it shouldn't have happened."

Maya did not want to argue. They did not mention the lioness transformation. Either they had not heard yet, or were being understanding about it. There was an awkward silence that Maya for some reason felt the Alphans were expecting her to fill. Instead, Annette started doing just that after a moment. She was soon showing Maya around their quarters.

Unexpectedly, Maya was most drawn towards the numerous pictures of other people scattered around. A few pictures were of Bill or Annette, one each separate, but several together. Others were of people, some apparently older, some younger. Family. Perhaps friends too. Not unlike pictures she once had of her relatives and friends. They chatted briefly about them. Indeed some were Bill's relatives, some were Annette's. All were left behind on Earth, something they didn't want to talk about much at all, instead focussing on the nature of the relationship, and sometimes a behavioral characteristic about some of them.

The microwave emitted a completion tone.

"That would be the last part of dinner," Annette said. "The kitchens have the real ovens, but where that is missing here, the personal touch is present. Or so I like to think."

"Oh, definitely," Bill said.

"Don't flatter me too much; it will go to my head," Annette said with a smile.

Maya smiled a bit, but said nothing.

Bill and Annette together moved the foods to the table, and they all sat at it.

Information was provided on the food'substances themselves, and some further information about their preparation. Maya decided to ask about the growth of the plants as she started eating. She found out some was in a department called Botany, and some in a department called Hydroponics -- and that the latter actually had the higher output of food. Some food, such as the corn, came from frozen stores still left from Earth. She also learned Botany provided foodstuffs but also maintained or provided other plants throughout the base. Both departments were committed to research as well, part of what they had done in the beginning but also slowly trying to expand production.

There was silence for awhile, and too curious, she timidly asked how the two of them had formed a bond, and got back a fascinating story about how they both occasionally worked third'shift, Bill finally "working up the nerve" to ask her on a first romantic encounter. Those encounters were, curiously enough, called dates. The word date had two meanings in the linguistic information, rare in the Khorask arrays: a day on a calendar, and a kind of fruit. She assumed this was a third meaning based on the former, though she could only assume the meaning had to be inferred from context. Alphan was a strange language full of a lot of reused word'sounds for unrelated meanings, and multiple different words for the same or similar meaning. Together with all of the diverse spelling and pronunciations patterns, and grammatical complexity, Maya was sometimes getting the feeling Alphan was more like a few languages aggluntated into one.

They relayed how some others had joked that they were going to try arranging Bill and Annette to get together on a date.

"They would interfere before the age of thinning?" the Psychon blurted in shock.

They looked at her, and she realized the metaphorical reference could not possibly mean anything to them. So she simplified the reference, and a little more calmly. "You both seem too young for interference."

"Oh," Annette said, pausing and looking at Bill, apparently still uncertain how to process that.

"They were just joking, I think," Bill said. "They probably decided we would figure it out."

"I.e., the dense lug finally asked me out."

The whole sentence made so little sense to Maya she wasn't sure on what part to seek clarification first, and finally settled on the last part. "Out where?"

"Oh, to a Sit-Down Saturday at the one that is starting to be a French restaurant on some days. If any place can be said to be romantic, that place is trying."

"Oh, french fridays and italian tuesdays."

Annette looked surprised. "Gee, Maya, I only heard the rumor about Italian Tuesdays today."

"Helena mentioned it, though I did not understand the tone of her voice at the time, and later thought she may have been generating humor."

"Making a joke," Annette corrected.

"Actually," Bill said, "it's been a long-running joke in Reconnaissance that they should do that. Maybe it got to Helena from Alan via Command Conferences or something."

"Oh, maybe that's all Italian Tuesdays are then. Too bad."

"Unless Chef Andruzzi is thinking of making the joke reality."

"I hope so."

Conversation continued on the topic of food for awhile, before drifting to other topics. Maya had little to offer, she thought, but they kept asking for things like her favorite foods, past and present. She listed some of the latter, and tried to describe the former as best as she could.

She finally remembered her own manners, and complemented Annette on the food, most of which she had enjoyed.

R-353 DAB 0930-1230: Distractions

Tony found that seeing Maya with a bruise on her face again the next day was not easy. It wasn't just that he had overlooked a festering problem and had failed for a moment, but more simply that she had gotten hurt. He had already apologized for it, and she had was quick to accept, and did not seem to hold it against him in any way. Though clearly more nervous again; in some ways, she seemed back to her cheerful self -- well, as much as she seemed cheerful given all that had happened to her, which was still quite a lot. Yet she had been greeting him with at least some degree of a smile, almost all the time. She greeted others with something of a smile too, and did the same during introductions.

She seemed to smile readily. Then again, so had Mentor. So had the Guardian's Servant back at Piri, for that matter. Smiled often, for an artificial construct. A sweet talker too, that android was. All the Alphans had removed -- been herded, really -- to the planet, and he had seen the Servant too. Maya's smile seemed genuine. There was lively warmth and intelligence in her eyes. Yet the Servant had not seemed machine-like -- though everyone had been under influence, so it was difficult to be certain. He was starting to compare and contrast the android and the alien more often lately.

Then there was Dione. He had scarcely interacted with her -- a case that later prompted him to get more directly involved with further cases as time went on, rather than always just assigning guards. That decision was probably what had led to him spending so much time -- even more than intended really -- around Maya.

Not to mention Kara. He had never seen her, but heard her described as stunningly beautiful, but with the morals of a sundew plant -- or a black widow spider.

Attractive aliens and Alpha just had not mixed.

Yet even though he was sometimes thinking about this or other concerns when in Maya's presence, and she was probably picking up on a little of it, she seemed tolerant and patient, if disappointed about it. Now, he was taking her back to her quarters after breakfast, and if she had felt disappointment again, she soon seemed to be trying to hide it with chattiness like he had scarcely heard from her. She was also pointedly avoiding eye contact with anyone in the halls but him.

Last night, taking her to the Frasers, he had been surprised and relieved at how few people were in the halls at the moment. Now, there were more. The electronic memo about her being a metamorph had made awkward introductions and encounters in the hallway more numerous again. Yet there was nothing like a demonstration of her abilities to multiply that, and his headaches. News of her being attacked and in turn becoming a lioness had spread quickly. Those on Alpha who had not heard right away last night surely had by now. There were quite a few suspicious gazes, and people moving away from her. Carolyn Powell even changed course at a junction. A few people Maya had already met stopped her and said something sympathetic, however, including someone she had not met, prompting an introduction. Still, Tony decided today was not a good day for as many introductions.

The Psychon could still be a big problem. How could anyone simply trust an alien to have Alpha's best interests in mind? He wasn't dumb, and knew that given she was stranded, her helping Alpha now was in her best interests too, but maybe that was all it was. She still struck him as being very genuine, though. He simply didn't know what to make of her. So Tony was stuck trying to smooth over Maya's adjustment into Alpha even though Tony himself was cautious too. Tony wanted to curse John sometimes, sticking him with this thorny problem.

Still, her having been hurt -- at all but especially under his watch -- had him feeling protective about her, especially now with her being so much more nervous again.

He noticed again that she was chatting a lot, apparently so nervous she was trying to distract herself, or get him to help her do that -- or sensing his increased unease and trying to smooth that over.

It was still hard to tell, yet seeing her pretty face bruised, worried, and sad was difficult for him. Abruptly, he thought she needed a distraction -- but was not sure what.

Given an odd morning gap in his schedule, he was planning on a late morning workout as soon as he got Maya safely to her quarters. He had tried to arrange a 12:30 lunch with Lena, and would have been one of very few meals they had shared the last few days, but she had said some tasks had come due and she'd have to eat lunch right in Botany. So he planned on some exercise and to grab a meal alone, then to start catching up with some of his usual duties.

Then a thought struck him, one which could help with another problem, actually.

They were in a travel tube when he broached it.

"You know what you need, Maya?"

When she turned a questioning gaze to him, he was struck again by her strangely compelling features. After days of absorbing all sorts of revelations about her and the commander's hopes for her, most of his thoughts about Maya had centered on them, and the amount of time he had to spend with her. While those concerns had not gone away, he was back to those same mixed feelings again. He soldiered on....

"You need to learn some more... conventional methods of self-defense."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you seem relatively fit, but..." he paused, formulating his next words.

She looked down at herself, then said, in clear bewilderment. "I fit my uniform?"

As innocent as her question was, it was about the last thing he had wanted her to say, as it drew his attention back to her body, and he lost track of his words. Or was she trying to flirt with him? No, it didn't seem like that. Flustered, feeling the tips of his ears starting to turn red, he stumbled back to topic. "Er... what I meant is that you.... Did you exercise?"

"Oh, yes, exercise is important. It was difficult to get much in... the shelter, but... I still did some regularly."

"So you haven't gotten much since coming here."

"Correct."

"Well, it's about time you resume. First some basic exercises, then... do you know any martial arts already?" Her easy-to-interpret look of puzzlement, including a slight head tilt, told him she had not understood the phrase 'martial arts' -- probably thinking of art as drawing and such, or not knowing the word martial. "Forms of exercise that can also give you some further self-defense abilities. Did you ever learn anything like that?"

"No, but I understand your definition. There were some such... martial arts on Psychon, but I never learned any."

It was strange to think of giving Maya, whom he still did not fully trust, more means of defending herself than she already had. Yet despite his misgivings about her, part of him already felt silly for habitually keeping her on his left side, away from his stun gun. She could surprise him at any moment and he would scarcely be able to do much. He had been charged with her security, and giving her means to secure herself was a virtually-implied part of that. Maybe having her taught martial arts was maybe taking it a bit far, yet it also seemed perfectly sensible. If she could have defended herself without resorting to transformation and still without hurting Sanderson, maybe she wouldn't be getting the nervous or even fearful reactions she now saw.

"Well, let's start with a basic gym session." The travel tube stopped, and they went through quieter hallways to her quarters. She invited him in, and as he did, he called Anna Wong, who spent some time as a personal trainer. She was not someone Tony knew well at all, and Lena never mentioned her either; but for some reason he felt this the best choice. To Tony's surprise, he found out she had received a cancellation.

"My schedule is quiet, and only a few people here in general. What do you want to do?"

Tony had not expected it to be right away, but that there was a good opportunity now and... "Would you mind putting together a workout for Maya?"

"That would be perfectly fine," she said without a pause. "Any time now would be fine, if you can."

Twenty minutes later, after both were changed -- Maya looking unexpectedly very cute in what turned out to be neither too-tight nor too-loose shorts and shirt -- they were at the particular gym. Besides Wong in the back of the room for the moment, two others were present, a woman and a man. Introductions were, as usual, mixed. The woman soon left. The trainer, who had been at the other end of the room, came over and gave Maya a warm greeting. Maya, as usual, offered a smile, and it was well received. An expression Tony could not interpret came over Maya's face, then vanished. Maybe she was just happy to be receiving some warm welcomes after the recent trouble.

After Tony described his plans to the trainer, the latter indicated she did not know martial arts.

"Don't worry about that," Tony said. "For now, she just needs to get a regular program going."

After a brief discussion and introduction to the plans, Tony left Maya and moved to another part of the room, within sight of Maya, the door, and the other exerciser, to get in some work himself, while moving once and awhile to keep the two women in sight as they moved about, and to make sure they still seemed to be getting along.

Sometimes, he caught the alien looking in his direction, but was too far away to get her expression.

When he found himself thinking, nice legs, about Maya once, he stopped looking for awhile, instead just half-listening, having decided the session was probably not going to go sideways, except for his own meandering thoughts. So what if the Psychon happened to look mostly human? To get himself to stop thinking about the physical aspect, he instead mused about her social side, and how, while being cautious during introductions, she also mixed in more of a smile, and did not outright fear meeting people. He couldn't really call her shy.

Anna jotted notes on a grid, then said, "Well, you're in pretty good shape, or at least seemed to exercise regularly some in the recent past?"

"Yes, I would sometimes run the... in the corridors... before, and would often be carrying potted plants I took care of, to better lighting conditions or for research, and there were some machines, not unlike some of these. Exercise is vital for a person, and I see it is true here too."

"Absolutely. Have you really gotten that much exercise here so far?"

"No, not really. I would lift things around, but nothing very heavy, and there is no space to run or... jog?"

"Jog," Anna said. "There's a track in one facility, but it is just a sprint line, instead of an oval. Some find that boring and run the walking corridors below the travel tubes."

"Below the travel tubes?"

Tony explained. "Yes, in case the travel tube car gets stuck for an extended period of time, people can throw a mechanical lock on the car. Then -- unless this feature is blocked from Command Center -- a battery provides a charge sufficient for opening an end door. Then one can find a panel out of the tube and into the corridor below. Those walking tunnels used to be for emergency and maintenance use only, but we loosened that on a couple tubes, and they've become favorites for long-distance jogging."

"Mr. Verdeschi?" the trainer said.

"Tony."

"Given Maya's security situation, maybe you should take her for a jog." Anna looked at Maya with an expression the Psychon could not interpret.

"What, now?" Tony asked.

"It would be a good way to finish the workout. Would you like that, Maya?"

"A few minutes of that would be good, but it sounds like Tony needs to be somewhere."

"Uh, no, I guess I can spare some more time."

After that was over, and upon returning Maya to her quarters, they found a defunct microwave sitting outside of her quarters, with a note from van der Mir that she could take it apart and try to repair it if possible.

Good, something to keep her busy for some time.

R-353 DAB 1330-1730: Computers

Leaders of the Computer Department had the life expectancy of gnats.

At least that was what June Washington sometimes thought. Ben Ouma, gone. David Kano, gone. Both in less than a year. Ben to injuries sustained during Breakaway. David atomized with others in what still seemed like a senseless battle in space, after vague and un-clarified alien demands for 'the ship.' Whatever the surviving officers knew in more detail, if anything, they were keeping to themselves; but June mostly felt they were at as much of a loss for answers after the incident that took the lives of David, Professor Bergman, Paul Morrow, and Tanya Aleksandr.

Though not officially the manager of Computer, June was technically the lead at least, temporarily anyway -- a role she had not wanted and had not felt ready for. She had the technical skills, and some organizational skills, but still felt young, still felt like she had only been climbing the ranks because of the attrition rate. She had been Kano's primary assistant since even before Ben had died, and had been at the heart of organizing so much work in the Computer department. Her own calm tendencies, compared to some of the easily tense techs, probably helped too. It appeared those reasons had landed her as the unofficial, temporary, de facto head of the department, though ultimately under the temporary supervision of Sandra Benes.

June was no idiot, however. She was cross-training others as fast as she could, and some were showing strengths. June was an operative, an assistant. Several others were team leads or technical leads, but she had serious doubts any of them were ready to run the whole department. None -- not them, not June -- had both the breadth and depth of knowledge David had. Main Computer was very important in Alphan survival, and June was very concerned.

Then there was the matter of the alien. Sandra had talked to June to arrange a meeting, but June had been jammed up with a lot of cross-training and a few minor repairs left from Mentor's attack. There were also still some remaining restoration from the space warp just before Psychon. Like the one shortly after Breakaway, this one had wiped some computer records, but David had implemented a process of far more frequent backups of a system whose touted internal quadruple redundancy was apparently not entirely a match for something in a space warp -- though without the redundancy, it was possible most of Computer could have been wiped. The restoration was taking time, however. Furthermore, Maya had such a strange schedule, that it wasn't until about a week later that a meeting could be arranged. That day was now today.

Maya was needing computer training. Not simple user handling, but deep technical level, no restrictions. Sandra conveyed her feeling that Maya probably had strong computer affinity, and that the upcoming session was perhaps, in a way, overdue.

"Do you want me showing Maya some specific things?" June had asked Sandra.

"Anything, really. I know there could be some hesitation; but I trust her, the Commander trusts her, and her position as Science Advisor is high non-officer clearance."

"Hmm, okay."

"Plus, she is really a nice woman." Sandra paused, then continued. "However, if she expresses unexpected positive reactions in a few areas, do not be surprised."

"Like what?"

"She got excited about the hyper-interlacing bug."

"Excited? She likes seeing wild display modes?" It sounded crazy. A display that would suddenly jump about between pages, 1-2-1-2-1-2-3-2-3-2-3-2-3-4-3-4-3-4-3-4-5... each new or repeated page appearing only momentarily before being replaced with the previous or next?

"She thought it was an excellent way to read data."

"You've got to be kidding," June had said with a half-dismissive smile.

"No, she absorbs raw data very quickly, especially things in arrays and grids, or scientific in nature. In other areas, she reads more like us. If you ever find the interlacing bug, though, see if it can be preserved and made a mode available as a choice for Maya."

Now, with the meeting soon to arrive, June thought that perhaps setting Maya herself to finding the bug, maybe even fixing it for most and preserving it as a selectable mode for herself, might be a nice first, non-critical task, before letting the Psychon muck about in core Alpha code. The training could go further afield, but caution on actual work seemed good, just as standard procedure for any new developer.

June was still leery about meeting Maya, however. Sanderson's assault being wrong still didn't keep June's mind from lingering on how Maya had defended herself. A metamorph. What a strange ability.

When the hour came, Officer Verdeschi introduced June to Maya, and June had to push herself to shake the alien's hand, after wondering if it was via contact that allowed the metamorph to learn how to transform into other life forms. No one really understood much about Maya's ability, at least not outside of the officer corps.

She found Verdeschi's eyes scrutinizing June, and to a degree, Maya as well. Just being the security officer, June imagined.

The officer remained, but that told her little, because she had gathered from others that he sometimes listened in rather carefully, even asking some questions, like he was taking advantage of a cross-training opportunity, rather than just making sure things stayed cordial between Alphans and Psychon -- Terrans and Psychon, June corrected herself, knowing that despite misgivings, Maya should be counted as Alphan, unless she betrayed that.

Tony's taking interest in the content of the meeting seemed to be the case here, at times, as June moved through some basic discussion topics and found Maya to be the quick study everyone else was saying.

They were even getting to some discussion of code. At the lowest level was machine code, generally impractical to deal with, as opposed to an interpreted, semi-English-like 3GSCL, or even the intermediate assembly the X5 could also handle. Yet June's briefly mentioning and showing some machine code brought out the same sort of excited reaction Sandra had mentioned.

"That is its native language?" Maya said with clearly anxious curiosity.

"Well, technically, binary is, but hexadecimal is easier."

"My basic counting system is radix 16 too."

June was surprised. Sandra had not mentioned Maya counted in hexadecimal. Not knowing how to respond that, June resumed. "But aside from that, these are its true instructions and data."

"Do you have a langrefgrid for this?"

"A what?"

"Sorry, I was too anxious and compacted the contraction too much. A language'reference'grid?"

June didn't know what the Psychon's first sentence meant, but the second was clear enough. "I think it would be much faster, not to mention more intuitive, to learn the assembly code or 3GSCL."

Verdeschi looked at Maya briefly but then at June as he spoke up for the first time in ten minutes, saying, "Before you both waste a lot of time, I can tell you, June, that Maya herself calculates like a computer sometimes, so maybe you should just go along."

Oddly, June found Verdeschi's way of talking about Maya to be a little rude, not to June but about Maya. Still, when Verdeschi encouraged June, again, to just go along with Maya's request, June said hesitantly, "I could give her the X5 Master Instruction Reference." June was clearly checking, with her emphasis on the one word, whether he was still okay with giving away such "keys" to the underlying system.

He shrugged, then said, "Fits the parameters of the cross-training." His body language and wording seemed to betray some slight hesitation on his part, that he had at least partial qualms, at least at some point, but was going along with orders. Then again, he seemed a little more relaxed about Maya than June had sometimes heard, like maybe he was trusting her more now than before, and June was just hearing old rumors or information.

R-353 DAB 1900-1930: Alphon Child?

John found out Helena was in Medical Center, rather late, and decided to stop by and see if she had had supper. He found her staring at something. "So what is that?" he asked.

"DNA analysis results of Maya."

"Oh? So what's the verdict?"

"Unclear."

"What do you mean?"

"She's very close to human in genetic terms."

"Same species?"

"That's the trouble. I'm not sure."

"What do you mean?" he asked for the second time.

"This analysis is not easy to interpret. For all of our advances medically, there is still a long way to go in many areas. What I have here does not define some difference percentage on a single dimension, but many dimensions. Most are essentially in typical human range, a few are outside, and some are very unique. No one factor tells me she's not of the same species, but no one factor tells me she is. Nor do all the factors put together. Her case is that she's both close enough and far enough to be inconclusive.

"But I thought I've heard about some species being compared as 98% similar. Or 99.5% or something. I don't remember the number."

"That is an oversimplification." Helena said, standing up and walking to a clearboard. "When race on Earth is discussed, it is frequently about there being three races. That too is an oversimplification in some ways, but let's just go with that for the moment." She drew three heavily-overlapping circles, in a fairly small area. "If I had to oversimplify with Maya, maybe I would put her, say, out here." Helena drew a dot standing a few diameters outside the overlapping circles.

"Okay, this is probably the wrong question again, but where would you draw the line for species?"

"As you probably know, a species is basically -- usually -- defined as a group of individuals who can, barring problems with specific individuals, reproduce together not just to one generation, but two or more." Helena erased the dot representing Maya, then drew a circle at almost the same distance. "I'm not sure if Maya falls on this side or that," she said, adding two dots, one on each side of the outer curve.

That a Psychon perhaps even falls within range is either a very interesting case of convergent evolution, or is yet another sign of something interesting about these two galaxies full of humanoid species or races like hers and all the others we've seen."

"So she might be human, or might not."

"Well, I'm not sure I'd call her human, regardless. We've been using terms of human and alien to distinguish, and she is alien, and does clearly fall outside of what one could call the human race, but strangely, as with other aliens we have had a chance to analyze -- and probably many more that we have not been able to -- she may be a member of the same species."

"There has to be an interesting story to that," John mused.

"Probably, but as you know from prior discussions among us and Victor, we have only very limited data and some guesses at their meaning."

"Back to either highly convergent evolution -- natural or manipulated or even a mixture of both -- or common ancestors."

"Yes; and it is this strange situation, of not understanding the source of the similarity but still having the extensive differences, which leaves us still having to acknowledge she is alien and us human, while we also accepting her as Alphan regardless of that, and acknowledge that for whatever reason, she may or may not be genetically compatible, either fully or partially."

It was a largely clinical discussion that clearly in no way reflected Helena's welcoming of Maya, just an honest, frank, non-critical discussion of known facts and the amount of unknown still left in the results and resulting discussion.

"So we don't know if she can have children with us, but it might be possible," John said.

"What makes the question more complicated is that it may vary by individual too, that she perhaps stands a better chance with certain men than others. There are some thoughts that so-called 'chemistry' may actually have a pheromone aspect to it that represents, at some level, some sense of greater compatibility. Nothing guaranteed or certain, and with plenty of other personal or cultural factors at play, who knows how much that chemical possibility really factors -- but it may simply be one of several various components of attraction."

"You didn't really confirm my statement."

"The answer is that I don't have an answer. She may be able to, or she may not. I simply don't know. John, DNA is a difficult and tricky thing. We can make plenty of theories about it, manipulate it in some ways, guess at much of its function or behavior, but still be surprised. If we are honest as scientists, we realize that for every step we take, the further away we realize true understanding really is. Maya is in the dark too: despite her metamorphic ability, she is 'merely' changing molecules from one form to another, without necessarily fully understanding their purpose on either side. She understands some of her metamorphic needs better than her own body's molecular functions, like not really knowing what purpose extra electrolytic potassium serves in her system, or if none, what is counterbalancing it. Honestly, I have always had serious doubts anyone can really understand all the mysteries of DNA, no matter how much technology is used to analyze it. It is often said that God works in mysterious ways, and some say that especially true of DNA. So can I answer your question? No, I really can't."

"So further research in her case-"

"Won't help. I won't be able to give her an answer. To be blunt, she'd have to try searching for a positive answer the old-fashioned way."

"Hmmm. But at least she'll have some hope, if she's interested at some point."

"Speaking of which, what do you think of her?"

He gave her a wary look. "What do you mean?"

"As a man, do you think she's attractive?"

"Well, she's... not unattractive," he said, hesitantly.

Helena looked annoyed. "John, don't temper your response on my part. We're talking professionally, so let's keep doing so. It is a serious question, and it is not about you, or me. I want a simple, honest answer. We all know she's an alien, but as a woman...."

"Okay... she's very beautiful, and I think at least some other men will find her such, sooner or later."

"She'll attract attention."

"I think so, almost certainly. Whether that translates to relationships any time soon is probably a lot more complicated, both on the male side, and who knows about Maya."

"Well, that's about what I was guessing. I think we'll need to have that discussion with her."

"Don't you think this is a little soon? She barely got here, she's in shock, and I doubt-"

"You remember how we were blindsided eight or nine months ago?"

He stopped, and he ran his hand down his face briefly. "You have a point," he admitted.

In the chaos and initial recovery post-Breakaway, with all Alphans now stuck with what Helena honestly called, in another context, a "barracks on a barren rock," there had been no real expectation of what had happened within a few months. There had been a number of pregnant women on Alpha at Breakaway, though one miscarried as a result. In the state of shock afterwards, there had been little expectation of more than maybe another pregnancy or two, probably accidental, because the idea of starting a family on "newly" castaway Alpha seemed ridiculous. When a few new pregnancies turned up, there had been no surprise. When the numbers grew quickly after that point, there had been surprise. It was realized a lot more pre-existing couples had gotten pregnant, some accidentally, many intentionally, and some new couples had formed, seeking comfort in each other's arms, some without care about some things, or actually wanting to have a child.

Helena had been in shock that any woman would see an immediately post-Breakaway Alpha as a place to start a family, and had called it the "height of irresponsibility" -- but people found hope in the strangest places, or via the most basic of means. The total count of then-current pregnancies was found to be almost three dozen. Even with the likelihood of a few miscarriages, that would be 28-32 babies at 1 Year After Breakaway. Some hasty study had resulted in the conclusion that Alpha could not carry any more than the new number of expected children. John had even told Jarak that -- "We can't sustain more people" -- knowing the studies suggested that Alphans and children would get awfully close to the tipping point. There was a life support problem.

In actuality, life support was a complex set of numerous factors, often varying to some degree over time, as Alpha took damage, repaired it, tried to expand that factor's limit, and such. Many of these carrying capacities could each be an ultimate limit, and the others could add up to one or more additional limits. At first, the dire realization struck that no further pregnancies could be allowed for awhile, beyond those already now known, until longer-term solutions, hopefully settlement on a suitable planet, could be made.

With the complex set of carrying capacities, a limit of 310 was chosen for now, that population should be kept below, probably closer to 300 most of the time. If/when there were losses and the trend seemed to be below 300, there would be random drawings of one or more married couples. Immediate and mandatory birth control had been instituted, on a monthly basis, for both men and women who were considered potentially fertile.

John sighed. The births had all been joyous occasions, but tempered with other considerations, especially among the command staff. It was a complex and critical concern, tightly bound to Alpha's future, controversial, and one they were working towards solving -- it was a constant hope and headache to find a solution for. In the meantime, there was no choice. "Given that you cannot exclude the possibility of genetic compatibility, and it seems likely she could garner such interest, I agree. Now is probably the best idea. No more blindsides on this. None."

"The only problem is her physiology is a little different on some counts, and I'm not sure that hormone treatment is the best way. It may still be, but some more research and discussion may be needed about the best means."

"Well, I'll leave that to you -- and her -- to work out."

"After we both introduce it in general," Dr. Russell said.

Commander Koenig nodded. The original announcement about three months after Breakaway had been a joint announcement from both the Commander and Chief Medical Officer. The need to handle it that way had been clear and obvious, and would have to continue for this unexpected new adult member of Alpha.

R-353 DAB 1915-1945: Tony and Lena

Tony had finally caught up with Lena, for a late supper in her quarters. However, for some reason he could not discern, she wanted to talk business, asking questions about Maya, of all things. He tried to change topics to more current and local things, but that only brought her back to the topic of Maya, Lena asking, "Why haven't you introduced us yet?"

"The opportunity hasn't arisen yet."

"You need an 'opportunity' to introduce her to your girlfriend?"

"Seeing to security is a professional matter, not a social occasion."

"You introduced her to Patrick and Michelle Osgood."

"To Patrick. The opportunity arose."

"So... what? You're not going out of your way? Are you trying to protect me or something?"

Oddly, her tone sounded almost joking, but that was not Lena. He started pulling the topic away from Maya, but Lena seemed to push it back. He answered a few questions, where it did not violate security protocols, which she understood; but when he wanted to move on again, Lena got visibly irritated, so he impatiently said, "I spend so much time with her as it is."

"Yes, you do. Haven't you ever heard of delegation?"

"I'm already doing that, more and more over time; but it is complicated, and in many cases it is still best that I'm there. John Koenig asked me personally to see to her safety."

"Her safety? With what she can do, shouldn't it be our safety you're concerned about?"

"I am. Both directions."

"So, you think she may be a threat."

He sighed, unhappy she had gotten even that much. "I am always cautious. My job in this sort of situation is to see to both the one person's safety and Alpha's safety."

"So you keep an eye on her too."

"Of course, at all times."

"That is what I hear."

"What do you mean? What the hell does that mean?" His answer oddly came out sounding more defensive than he had intended, for some reason that was not clear to him.

Lena seemed to pick it up. "I wonder if it works both ways."

"Both ways," he said flatly.

"Some get the impression you have been finding her... charming."

"What, you think I have interest in her?"

"You said it."

"No, I didn't. I just asked a sarcastic question."

"My understanding is that you went out of your way to find when lasagna was coming up on a menu."

"Because she asked to try it."

"How would she know about an Italian favorite?"

"Because... I mentioned it once."

"Why?"

"Because she was flourishing compliments on Medical Center food and then saying she had eaten little more than food bars and salads for years."

"Well, no wonder she was anxious for something else; but you were not exactly a dispassionate security officer."

"Who ever said I was dispassionate?"

"Exactly."

There was no doubt Lena was a very intelligent woman, and right now, there was no doubt she was using it. "She was jittery about every little thing, and that was getting on my nerves. Being nice to her seemed to be a good way to calm her down."

"So you asked her out to lunch."

"Lena, you're getting ridiculous. I have no interest in asking Maya on a date."

"Uh huh. Tell me one thing. Do you find her attractive?"

"What the hell, Lena; are you trying to break up with me?"

"That wasn't a 'no'. I've heard you tend to start getting a roving eye as relationships start failing."

"So you think I'm looking at Maya? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?"

"Really? You don't think she's attractive?"

"Lena, this whole conversation is ridiculous. Why would I ever have interest in her? Besides, it is hard enough figuring out human women, not to mention an alien. Why would you even think that?"

"Women are not that hard to figure out. Trying to determine why men are such blind fools, now that's hard."

"So we're not really talking about Maya."

"Who said I was talking about Maya? I've been talking about us -- you."

"You're making this awfully complicated."

"Oh, the old 'complicated' complaint from a man. How original. Let me tell you, Mr. Verdeschi, women are not that complicated."

Tony laughed.

"Laugh it up. I take it back. Men are simple. No, I take that back too. You, Tony Verdeschi, are too simple even for a man. You talk about your family growing up, and seem to want one of your own, but never talk about it. Your whole resistance about talking about past girlfriends.... How difficult is it to talk about ex's? You know we are just going to find out anyway. At least you can get your side in."

"Oh sure, so you say. All that I get after that is grief."

"Maybe you've given women plenty to give you grief back about."

Tony threw up his hands. Some breakups were rather simple "it just isn't working" conversations; some were blowouts. Lena had the former tone of voice yet even sharper words than in the latter. His arguments sounded vaguely hollow in his own mind. He couldn't figure out why, then decided he had simply gotten so used to it happening in the past that he wasn't even trying to marshal stronger arguments this time, deciding it was already over.

Lena looked at him expectantly. What more was there to say? He could have shot back about her lack of humour, her impatience over interruptions, her inability to take a joke; but he had known about that at the start of the relationship, if not before, and thought he could live with that. He couldn't. Maybe he had been a fool after all, for expecting this to work. They had had a great relationship for awhile, before it had started breaking down -- but it was clearly gone now.

He decided to take the high road, and not start throwing any of her weaknesses back at her, but instead just put the last remains of the relationship out of their mutual misery. Oddly, Lena looked disappointed. He left, shaking his head.

R-353 DAB 1930-2000: Alpha Children

Maya had eaten lunch alone after being returned to her quarters after the meeting on Main Computer, but despite the way she had started the day wanting a lot of contact with people, the fact the day had turned out well that way had her feeling much happier, and ready to spend time in quarters disassembling and analyzing the microwave.

That did not last long before the Commander called in via commlock, from outside her quarters, requesting she come with him to the Medical Center office.

On the way, they briefly talked about her discussion session regarding the Main Computer, but in a fairly light tone, like it was not yet main'talk, which made sense, considering where they were walking towards. At Medcenter -- Medical Center, Maya thought, trying to correct her tendency of sometimes compacting Alphan terms more than intended -- Helena asked about Maya's bruise, and checked that the wound on Maya's hand was healing.

"Hard to be sure, but it looks like a little faster healing," Helena commented.

There was more discussion on that, then more questions about nightmares; but on the latter, Maya only offered that their frequency was less since receiving the flatbed.

"Good," Helena said, not insisting on more information.

Maya asked about John's wounds and the other injured Alphans, and was assured all were in the process of healing. They did not get into details, and Maya did not inquire further, still feeling they wanted to discuss something else. Indeed, they did, and the Commander made the topic'shift.

"Maya, as you may already know, there are children on Alpha."

Maya smiled abruptly, easily. "No, I did not. How wonderful. I had not even wondered about that yet, and then you discussed Earth and Breakaway, and with not seeing any children, it did not occur to me you would have any, especially so soon after Breakaway."

Maya saw the Commander and Medical Officer look at each other and share an odd expression. She wasn't sure why at this moment, but she again wondered if there was more than just a connection of professionalism and friendship between them. The Commander's arm around Helena in the Eagle could have been of simple comforting after a traumatic incident, but even at the time Maya had thought it was more. The amount of time they were in each other's company. The expressions, as difficult as Maya found it was to interpret some of them. She reverted her thinking to the current discussion topic, and gave them an inquisitive look.

"It mostly didn't occur to us among the command corps either," Helena started explaining. "Actually, there were a number of pregnant women on Alpha before Breakaway, though the plans were that each would return to Earth before she had her child. They got trapped here, however. Then a lot more got pregnant after Breakaway. I thought it was the height of irresponsibility, given the conditions and other issues; though in retrospect, I'm starting to understand it a little."

"How many children?" Maya asked.

"Twenty-eight currently, and three more on the way," Helena said. "All the babies are under about six months old."

Maya's warm smile widened further. "Oh, that is...." Then as she trailed off, her smile faded -- very quickly -- and her expression darkened in horror.

"Maya?" John asked.

Tears came to her eyes, and her head dropped. Maya had thought she could never be more humiliated. She had been wrong. "Mentor, he... he..." she sobbed. "He was attacking a base full of babies? Ohhhh, Father, what were you thinking? How could you? How could you? Talaka corr tre'aksay drezwa."

"Maybe he didn't know..." Helena tried to provide.

"Oh I wish I could believe that."

"Could your systems scan life forms that specifically from that distance?" the Commander asked.

"N-no, not that I was aware; but there was so much I was not.... He might have enhanced...." Sobs racked her body.

"Maya..." John said, reaching out.

She pulled away. "Were any of them hurt?" she asked tremulously, head still down, voice low, afraid.

"No, Maya--" Dr. Russell said.

"Did any lose a parent?"

"No, all of the families are fine."

A relieved sound escaped Maya's lips, but she still sobbed, even while saying, "I am glad they are all safe. I am so sorry--"

"Maya, it was not your fault," Helena said.

This time, Maya accepted the Commander putting a hand on her shoulder, and felt a little comforted that they were not only not holding it against her, and even seemed concerned about her feelings. Still....

To Helena, Maya did not seem that comforted, and even shook her head, but said nothing, seeming to collect herself. Neither human believed that new pain would fade any time soon from the Psychon's thoughts. They had unfortunately not considered this reaction, which in hindsight, should have been expected.

What was said was now said, however; so.... "Maya, we can talk about this later-"

"No, please continue." Maya wiped her eyes and took a few breaths. Helena looked at her dubiously, so much so that even the Psychon recognized this and found need for a diversion. "What was the name of the first child, if I may ask?" she asked.

Maya was clearly determined to forge ahead. Helena looked at John, who subtly shrugged, then tilted his head. Might as well get on with it.

"That is a simple question with a complicated answer," Helena started. "Have you ever heard of aliens who could take over a body at birth or death, and in the former case, trigger unusual growth patterns?"

Maya looked surprised, then puzzled, then shocked. "Oh, we Psychons heard of such legends, and talked about them sometimes, because it almost sounded a little like metamorphosis even though it was far from true metamorphosis. We thought they were legends. You were attacked by them?"

"Susan Crawford was already pregnant when we were still in orbit. Her husband died a few months before Breakaway, and after a couple weeks of bereavement absence, she returned to Alpha, wanting to complete her tour before having the child. Breakaway stranded her here. Later, within minutes of the child's birth, he was suddenly as large as a five-year-old."

There was a look of revulsion on Maya's face -- probably like any woman had felt on hearing the story. Helena could still vividly remember her own shock, which had went deep into her being.

"She rejected the child immediately and completely," Helena continued after a moment. "We didn't know about the alien presence. Though we couldn't blame her, we had been exposed to so many strange phenomena already, and we sort of 'adopted' him, despite some suspicions. We decided to name him Jackie after his late father Jack. When Jackie changed again to an adult, he then basically killed Susan, so another alien could take her over. They attacked all of us, but both were driven out by the pursuers they were trying to hide from. Sue and Jackie were restored to mother and baby -- though as soon as she found out all that had happened, she promptly named him George instead, after Jack's father."

"Fortunately," John said, "the babies born since then have been within normal ranges."

"Oh, that is good, especially after such forced violent transformations."

From there, the conversation moved about, from Alpha's one set of twins -- boys -- to the inability of Psychons to have twins due to a sort of metamorphic interference (the details of which were rather fascinating to both humans). Along the way, it became clear Psychon women could sense their own pregnancy within mere days, could still transform for three of the four "quarters" of pregnancy.

As fascinating as this was, however, and as good as it had been to get Maya's mind off another horrible discovery about her father's attack, there was still the main topic.

"Maya, as you may already realize, we live rather on the edge out here, in a base of limited size, limited resources, and limited luck gaining more."

"I was perceiving such, though I am sure I do not know all the details."

"This is about one of them."

Helena proceeded to describe some of the base's "carrying capacities" of various sorts, multiple independent, semi-co-dependent, or dependent factors, any of which could hurt, damage, or destroy their chances. They worked their way, still in relative summary form, to how the various factors were figured together to several population figures for adults and children, and to the current overall maximum.

"So you have to limit births here?" Maya asked.

Quick study, Helena thought as she nodded.

"That is so sad," Maya said.

Then John spoke. "We have been creating long-term plans to develop and start replacing aging equipment with better equipment, to expand our capacities, build outward whenever possible, and whatever other practical ways we can find to expand our capacity, in case we are still stuck on the Moon. There are long term-plans, and it is going to be difficult, but there is no choice."

"Commander, I will be happy to help in whatever way I can to allow you to expand that capacity, and so that your people can start having children again."

Maya was both including and excluding herself. Helena wasn't sure Psychon and humans were genetically compatible, but it was kind of a sad statement. "Don't think of it that way," Helena said. "We can help each other." Helena proceeded to explain the DNA test results, that Maya seemed close to human yet was in a fuzzy region in terms of genetic compatibility. Maya's expression grew hard to read, though an off-kilter half-smile emerged at one point, showing mixed feelings -- but little that was readable beyond that.

To Maya it was partially a theoretical concern, partially curiosity, and partially personal. Not that she thought that being nearly human would really change their approach to her, even in day-to-day interaction. The further question of genetic compatibility -- to be able to have children with an Alphan male -- struck her as ridiculously premature to consider. Yet... hearing that Alphans had children had touched her a bit. She suddenly was curious to see one of the Alphan children.

She abruptly realized that if she was genetically compatible, and really was to spend the rest of her life among Terrans, that perhaps she could feel some small hope a man might want to marry her. If she could offer him some hope of children together, maybe.... No, she was getting greedy -- way ahead of herself. Still, Helena's news of indeterminacy was hope and uncertainty fused into one.

It seemed moot, though -- just theory to her mind. Though she had immediately felt attracted to a couple Alphans, and was starting to feel that more often, she was a lone Psychon female among many Terran males who had many choices of Terran females. Would any really give her a chance? She wondered why she was even thinking such things so soon on Alpha, but going from being around no available men to perhaps a hundred had apparently not gone unnoticed by part of her.

Helena continued. "The problem, Maya, is that we have to make certain the current, unfortunately necessary zero population growth rule. We cannot allow more children on Alpha for now, except under specific situations to maintain population. This rule applies to everyone who can potentially have children. Since we cannot rule you out for that possibility, we have to discuss this."

Maya blushed, picking up more on the social statement at first. Now who is getting ahead of things? Maya thought incredulously. Maya had doubts of such interest in her lifetime, yet... what? They thought she would just start having children right now? She held that reaction, and as she formulated a response, she decided to skip right over the welter of social aspects and focus on some simple Psychon biology, saying, "That will not be a problem."

"Well, Maya, we realize there may be a lot of other considerations, some we can perhaps guess and some probably not. No insult is intended. No false hope. No guess at what this may make you think about. Just policy."

"No, you don't understand. It wouldn't happen."

"Is there some other problem we're not aware of?"

"Not a problem, but a simple facet of Psychon biology."

Maya explained that as soon as a haploid cells started forming, they were unconsciously recognized as 'not self.' Given metamorphic potential of all Psychons, a Psychon already knew, from a life-long metasense, of pre-existing microbial symbiotes, and even on every Psychon gaining partial abilities and being able to 'out-shift' harmful invaders, they also knew how to leave beneficial organisms intact. Haploid cells, male or female, though formed from oneself, were a special case; that while not harmful and obviously essential to the survival of the species, were still something 'new' and automatically shifted.

"Then how does a Psychon get pregnant in the first place?"

"One has to be taught from early adolescence to 'recognize' such cells -- though it is a more indirect process than that -- and let them remain. The technique is not used until wanted, of course."

The humans seemed totally astonished, so she said nothing, letting them absorb that and decide what to ask or say next.

"Have you been taught this?" Helena then asked, astutely realizing Maya's statements were ambiguous on this.

"Yes."

"This is something you can do in a moment's notice?"

"No, it takes a period of quiet contemplation at some point. Then that new state lasts for a few months or so before the situation reverts."

"Well, we have been enforcing birth control via monthly hormone treatments of both men and women. I was a little more concerned about doing that with you, but if you can completely assure us of that...."

"I would have to make a conscious choice, at a quiet time, to break the rule. I would not do that, and would understand you might want to throw me out of an airlock if I did, and--"

"Maya, that is a terrible thing to say," Helena exclaimed. "We wouldn't throw you out an airlock."

Maya had translated back to some of her early and frequent nightmares here, of being thrown out of an airlock, a way in which aliens sometimes killed aliens, she knew. It was also memories of sometimes hearing that some aliens made promises to others of their race or other aliens that way, such as, 'If I break your trust, throw me out an airlock' -- or similar, like the 'would understand' variant Maya had used. This statement was not welcome by the Alphans, which itself was a good sign in some ways, so she went to more of a Psychon-style statement, and hoped it would translate in Alphan terms. "I swear on the memory of my mother, Taylia, that I will not break trust and try having a child here without permission, given the rule that applies to all Alphans."

"That is much better," Helena said, then looked at John.

They shared a look Maya did not quite understand, though her primary guess that it was a silent conversation over whether to accept her word and unique form of control as sufficient. This was soon confirmed when the Commander spoke.

"Okay, Maya, we accept your promise. Again, I'm sorry for whatever discomfort this discussion may have caused you, at any level; but no one has been happy about the necessity of the rule -- including Helena and I."

"I understand. It is okay."

At every turn, Alphan life showed itself as more complicated than she had previously thought. They were struggling to survive in a hostile universe, and difficult decisions had to be made. Maya suddenly felt very selfish for even thinking that an Alphan man might be interested in her, suddenly doubting her promise was even necessary in the first place, regardless that these two Alphans thought it was. Yet that they were even leaving that possibility open, rather than raising any metaphorical force field against that....

Some part of her naturally hoped to be found by Psychons, for all reasons, as generous as the Alphans had been. Yet even if the scattered ships had detected the presumed hyperspatial tone from Psychon's destruction, determined it was actually from Psychon, they could have just as easily assumed it was simply the inevitable happening. Most of the ships that left earlier wouldn't even know of Mentor's hopes for saving the planet. Even the last few which did would probably assume he and Maya had failed, and that even if the two had escaped with their lives, they would have quietly scattered too. Dispatching a ship would probably be too much to expect -- especially if the last few had shared any planned direction of exploration with Mentor. The latter would assume that he and Maya could thus try following in their own ship. Besides, most or all of the star'ships were probably trying to move mostly unnoticed. Bringing a thousand or more people back to Psyoliyask could be dangerous.

She had churned through these possibilities a number of times already, and none had left her any realistic hope. She still felt she was most likely going to be with the Alphans for a very long time, if not the rest of her life.

F-354 DAB 0000-0900: Vital in Voyage

Maya was partway into another discussion session, this one in Alphan third shift, with the department leader of Hydroponics, Thomas Hayden, who was increasingly brusque with Maya. They had actually first met a few days before, in a random encounter, coincidentally not long after she had first noticed his name on her schedule. A few days had passed, and now they were meeting for discussion. Given the third shift timing of this meeting, and that Tony was coming to another session at 04:00 -- early for him, Maya thought -- it was a guard who brought Maya here. There must have been some concern, for the guard remained, elsewhere in the room, looking calm and generally disinterested in the conversation.

The general idea of Alphan Hydroponics was scarcely that different than Psychon Hydroponics, at least in basic form: growing plants in dense arrangements, immersing plant roots in water laden with nutrients, instead of soil. Since she had become the one mostly responsible for growing the vegetable supply of her and her father, and maintaining such systems, she knew a lot about hydroponics. It soon became clear there were various differences in technique. She listened to the human approach with eager interest, noting -- just in her mind initially -- the similarities and differences. After awhile, she started sharing her thoughts.

Having talked with a chemist previously and obtaining a list of Alphan names for the chemical elements, notational systems, and the start of chemical name'patterns, from Sidrak Chandrar, Maya starting growing comfortable talking chemistry and some biochem.

She didn't know much about Alphan plant species yet, however. She wondered now why the Botany session had been rescheduled to a later point. That might have helped her now, but still, she had some thoughts start coming to mind as the Hydroponics session went on.

That was when Thomas grew increasingly irritated. The guard occasionally looked over, but Maya made her questions and thoughts even more polite as they wandered more toward the further end of the room, and Thomas wasn't responding much to her statements any more. Finally, for the first time in minutes, he looked at her, and quietly and calmly said, "I do not know why you would think the Commander meant you can just monkey around with vital systems like Alphan food. This is touchy stuff, and this department has suffered losses when doing crazy things. Phippp, toast, capiche?"

Maya did not understand some of his words, but the intent and tone were clear enough. Somehow she had crossed a line, and this departmental leader was clarifying, even though part of her did not understand what she had done wrong, and felt frustrated. Still, she nodded her head, and that is when she said, "I meant no harm."

He seemed to relax a little. "Now if you want to just listen and learn more about how we do it...?"

Despite apparently having made a mistake somewhere, and feeling embarrassed at perceived arrogance, she was curious to hear what else there was, and accepted the offer. She still had a duty to carry out, that she wanted to carry out.

The remaining part of the session was polite and interesting, and she found yet more similarities -- and differences -- with Psychon hydroponics. She found out there were an increasing number of Hydroponics Units around the base, as frozen vegetable food supplies remaining from Earth had started declining immediately after Breakaway, and in some cases were now used up except for seed supplies. Tony had mentioned that there were not just more rooms but that they were more spread out, especially after a lot of recent room changes, for defensive reasons.

Maya was only visiting this one room, at least so far, but the varity of species here was fascinating, and some were familiar or nearly familiar, and some were different or very unfamiliar. With no self-prohibition about using her metasense to learn the molecular structure of these planets, she did so on some. Though the details were too extensive to know consciously, she was left with differing 'impressions' of each, just as with each Alphan. Of course, she also liked simply touching and feeling the texture of each plant as well, in a non-metamorphic sense.

She could not metasense all the plants without the possibility of being overwhelmed and having to stop that sense for awhile. So out of curiosity, she touched the more unfamiliar plants, even knowing some of the "familiar" ones might just be convergent forms and not the same species.

Thomas glanced back at some point, and clearly noticed her touching some of the plants. His expression turned cold again. She wondered if he was guessing at part of what she was doing, or just didn't care for her touching the plants for any reason. The scientific side of Maya realized she was perhaps disrupting something he was studying. She drew her hand away, and apologized. He said nothing regarding that, resuming the lesson.

When the scheduled time ended, the guard brought her to the all-night cafeteria for a late supper. After obtaining food, she took a seat by herself in an almost empty room, and sat alone at a table with her thoughts.

She still felt a little chastised for stepping out of bounds, and wondering when she had made her mistake in assuming she could say anything or offer suggestions about key systems. The man had not been hostile to Maya until she had started offering unsolicited thoughts. Had she missed some information provided by the Commander?

A couple of people filtered into the cafeteria, but after glancing her way once, paid her no further attention. She wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. She thought maybe she should have just picked up her food and taken it to her room. Yet as glad as she was not to have people staring at her, she felt a little lonely not sharing the meal'table with anyone. Back on Psychon, the small fourth'meal usually was eaten alone, as one relaxed at the end of the day, but the three other meals were typically -- though not always -- eaten in the company of someone. So far, the Alphans had kindly shared many meals with her, occasionally even a snack when it landed at the same time as one of their more typical times, but sometimes she ate virtually alone.

She ate all she intended, to save some leftovers for a snack, and was just about to stand up, walk over to request a small bag of frozen corn to store for future meals in her quarters, when Sandra walked in. Maya abruptly decided to wait. Sandra looked Maya's way and nodded, and after retrieving some food, came over. Maya greeted her with a smile and "Hello, how are you doing, Sandra?"

"Fine. Though I am still getting used to this later shift. Would you like some company?"

"Yes, please, sit down. Third shift is not your normal schedule?"

"Actually, I have had to shift schedules every once and awhile, more often lately because of the loss of so many key personnel about a month ago." After a pause, Sandra asked, "How was Hydroponics?"

"Very interesting," Maya said, deciding to resume eating and finish her meal, now that Sandra was here. She had other food for a snack, and would just eat even less then.

Sandra yawned, not something Maya had seen from Sandra before, who seemed unwilling to show such expressions around others.

"I understand Hydroponics is a vital system because it supplies so much food," Maya said.

"Yes. Protein Production Unit is also critical. Nuclear Generating Areas. Environmental. Problems with any of those are very dangerous. Just about everything is vital in some way or another, but we can work around or suffer relatively minimal losses due to a problem in most areas, and still survive for an extended period of time. Losing any of the four most vital areas would kill us the fastest."

Maya did not have much more food, and Sandra did not seem to eat much, at least not in third shift, so the meal soon ended after a little more discussion on other topics. Maya requested the frozen corn, then had the guard take her back for the rest of the hour-long break between the two sessions, thinking about the words of Thomas and information about vital areas, while wondering about the next session, whose title told her little: Voyager Records.

Jim Haines had been of a divided mind for days. On one hand, he had thought he should talk to the alien. On the other hand, the young man wanted nothing to do with her.

"Mentor." A word once with a positive meaning, now had many troubling meanings to Jim. His mentor, Ernst Linden, had turned out to be Ernst Queller, of the ill-fated Queller Drive, which had killed Jim's parents and many others, human and alien. The alien Sidons had been no better, though, seeking revenge, and in Linden/Queller's attempt at final redemption, he had sacrificed himself saving Alpha -- and Earth -- from the Sidons. The Sidons had been one of the things Jim thought was so wrong with the universe, that such advanced cultures could so often be just as nasty, cold, and revenge-seeking as human beings sometimes were.

Yet he had been, in the subsequent months, analyzing everything from the Voyager One records. It was an arduous process, with massive amounts of raw data that had to be sifted through for meaningful bits of information. That was only the start, for then those pieces of information had to be analyzed for potential meaning. It could have easily become one person's life's work, and could easily be that of a whole team, but it had been left to Jim as a part-time job, with some help, when needed, from his current supervisor in this task, Data Analyst Sandra Benes.

The perk was that the often strange information on the records, on various things caught by Voyager's various sensors, had him seeking help from others, coordinated by Benes at times, or just Jim and someone sharing some ideas or questions over a drink or meal. Lately, some of his research, or ideas that others later thought of and brought to Jim's attention, were starting to become conclusions that Sandra had seen fit to enter into Main Computer, to help improve the command staff's recognition of certain things, and perhaps improve the chances of survival of the Alphans, a little at a time. This was not real common yet, but it showed the tremendous potential of the recordings.

Though he had been handed the device soon after Linden's death, it had been no easy thing to work on, given the horrible cost attached to Voyager, the cost of so many lives. The only thing that kept him from chucking this device into the nearest furnace, consequences be damned, was the counter-thought that Voyager's effects were never the intent. It was not designed to cause untold suffering. Queller had not gone out of his way to become a mass murderer. He had a massive amount of manslaughter -- and unintended genocide -- on his soul, to be sure; but it was accidental, not been pre-meditated.

Though still angry with the man who had been Queller, and somewhat so with the same man who had been Linden, Jim still felt sad at the loss of Linden at times, sometimes to some continued difficulty. On top of the little black and orange box, and all that it did and might represent, good and bad, it was insane to have to reconcile one's feelings for a man who had two metaphoric faces, even if the one had expressed remorse for the other's actions.

So when they encountered Psychon and someone there who actually had the name Mentor, Jim had felt shocked and angry. He had immediately taken a dislike to the rotund and somewhat oily-sounding alien with the strange eyebrows, and had been immediately paranoid -- confirmed when Psychon had attacked the Moon.

Mentor and mentor.

Psychon and Sidon.

The universe seemed to have a weird sense of humour.

Now there was a Psychon that Commander Koenig was trying to pass off as the Science Advisor. Fine, she might know science, and some of his fellow Alphans seemed to think she had some interesting knowledge to advise them on; but dammit, that had been Victor Bergman's role, someone he respected immensely.

He had not known the wise professor well before Dr. Linden's death, but Linden had respected him; and afterwards, Victor had stepped forward and helped Jim, both a little with the Voyager records and philosophically. Jim still didn't understand what had happened to the Professor. The records of the incident that had cost more Alphan lives, not fully released anyway, but enough to see for certain -- though at times he still felt doubt over it. Jim knew this was wishful thinking.

Now, after everything that had happened, to stick some young, now-Alphan-dressed daughter of a murderous alien thug, in the role of one of the wisest, kindest men Jim had ever known, was troubling.

Yet he was going to talk to her. After days of waffling and thought, he had written up an electronic post asking to meet with her, and sent it to Tony Verdeschi, her apparent protector and seemingly her secretary now too.

Then he read about her bizarre powers. He had tried to back out, but had gotten a call from Commander Koenig. Given his own excuses were flimsy, he had eventually relented, and did not proceed with the cancellation. He was already known as hotheaded, and he didn't want other labels too. Besides, it would be hypocritical to be totally xenophobic, even though he had no real trust for the alien. Then hearing she had used her ability right on Alpha had only had him imagining her doing it right in front of Haines. He nearly tried again to cancel the meeting, but he decided just to take his chances instead.

A number of Alphans seemed to think she was a sweet, humble woman and extremely intelligent, and Jim had learned enough of a lesson from the Sidon encounter and over his own mentor to not feel any real malice towards Mentor's daughter. He just felt no real trust towards her either.

Some of his friends had picked up on the last, and there had been some trash-talk sessions regarding her. Despite himself venting somewhat early on, he grew a little troubled by it, and stopped participating. Fortunately, no one had suggested chucking her out an airlock like Koenig had Balor, and it only crossed his mind because he suddenly realized if the conversation had gotten to that point, Jim would have reported it immediately to Mr. Verdeschi. He found he had no desire for her to turn up dead in some way and realize he could have done something to prevent pointless revenge. That would be a far worse stain on him.

Still, he didn't want to meet her, but was stuck with his own actions to do so. The universe was a strange place indeed.

So the time came, Tony brought Maya and introduced her. Jim tried to be polite, even briefly shaking her hand, which felt like any woman's hand, soft and warm and with feminine fingers. She tried smiling a bit, but his expression was probably not helpful and she adopted a look which, after being surprised about seeing it on her alien face, seemed "professional."

So he adopted the same attitude, and started showing her records he had separated out and processed into something more meaningful.

He started with spaceships, asking if she could identify any of them. Most of them had been observed at a distance and been difficult to process into a useful image. Voyager One had attracted cautious curiosity; but it seemed that given the Queller Drive, most had understandably kept their distance. He was surprised no one had blown the hazard out of space, but apparently most could not detect it until it was close to a star system, and those aliens finding it in open space apparently took little interest if it was not heading towards something they were defending. Maybe some even hoped it would stray into the star system of an enemy, he had once wondered.

At first, Haines was not going to explain the machine's deadly history to the alien, but Verdeschi eventually revealed what Jim recognized as the non-classified details. At least they weren't telling the alien all of the dark history.

Haines chafed at the Security Officer's presence at points, even though he was also glad he was there, given Maya's dangerous side and Jim's own uneasiness about her. If there was a confrontation, he had little doubt he would end up on the losing side. A lioness, for heavensake. What else?

To his frustration, she recognized none of the spacecraft. He switched over to planets, and though she asked more questions about them, no identifications were forthcoming either.

At one point, she said, albeit with seeming hesitation, "I understand your people lost information allowing you to identify Earth's location. Does this machine's records provide some course information?"

"What, you think that wouldn't have been the first thing to occur to me, or failing that, for half a dozen people to ask me?"

That garnered him a glare from Verdeschi and what, as best as he could tell, a slight flare of anger from Maya, followed by a hurt expression. He was surprised to find her expressions not that difficult to interpret.

"I meant no harm," she said.

"We checked," he said, still a little gruffly. "Its science data are mostly intact, but its navigation information is a tangled mess of information that was fragmentary, partially because Voyager seemed to drop into far more warps than the Moon, some of which were enough to trigger software faults and core dumps, the former of which were recovered from, and the latter dropped during recovery."

"It was not designed for that," Maya commented, apparently presenting a summary for verification.

He laughed bitterly. "No. Neither was Main Computer, and what was not lost in the first phases of Breakaway were lost in the later phases, during rushed attempts at damage control, or when we hit our first warp, outside the solar system, when Main Computer reset more parts of itself."

"I am sorry."

There were a couple more similar questions. She said one planet looked a little familiar, then on magnified views, admitted it probably was not.

Finally, completely frustrated with this ignorant alien, Jim looked at Verdeschi, and said, "This is pointless. She's useless."

"Haines..." the security officer replied, looking seriously annoyed.

"Well, she is."

"Maybe you're asking the wrong questions."

"This is fundamental stuff, what we've been the most anxious to learn."

"That doesn't excuse your rudeness."

"I don't see the point of continuing this."

"Fine," the First Officer said. "I see no point to letting Maya sit here and be repeatedly insulted."

Tony was irritated, and not just over the lack of tact Haines had shown. The session was over scarcely halfway in when it ended, leaving Maya a moderate gap. Not knowing what to do, he took her to her quarters. There was no discussion most of the way, except for Tony apologizing for Jim's behavior. She quietly accepted the apology, but was clearly down, so he prodded her for some further reaction, and finally got a small flare of frustration, Maya saying, "I knew more about this region of the galaxy, near Psychon, and some beyond this region. Since the Voyager did not fly anywhere near here, there is not much I could do; but I would have been willing to sit through the rest...."

"Maya, there is a ton on that recorder, far more than a single session anyway. I don't think he picked his questions well. I don't know much about what is on there, which is one reason I attended this session; but in retrospect, maybe I should have just asked more questions myself."

Maya said nothing, maybe feeling she had said too much. It was curious to see her expressing anything but self-deprecation. Somehow, hearing her a little frustrated with Jim's immature behavior seemed a good thing to him. He wasn't sure why.

They had already reached her quarters, and inside, he noticed the broken microwave left at Maya's quarters was now in a myriad of pieces on the extra table he had brought her.

"Remind me not to leave my commlock here," Tony quipped.

Maya leveled him an odd look, a half smile on her face but a nervous look in her eyes. Does she have a sense of humour she's afraid to express or does she just find my comments strange?

S-356 DAB 0600-2300: Randomness and Initiative

For the first time in a couple of his days, Tony brought Maya to a cafeteria to eat. Their schedule had aligned such that they could both have breakfast, but earlier than usual for him, and later for her.

It was then that Maya noticed a woman she had not seen before walk into the cafeteria. Despite not having seen one in almost half her life, there was no mistaking the signs of a woman who was very pregnant. No different among the Alphans than the Psychons.

Theoretical conversations about numbers of children and rules here on Alpha had started reminding her of the basic facts of life again, and of her own fading hopes back on Psychon. Where recent discussion had provoked some emotional reaction, much of it negative when she realized what her father had been doing, actually seeing a pregnant woman brought back some of the pain of what had been fading hopes to the forefront of Maya's memory. Yet, strangely enough, some deep hope.

Before Maya could parse that, the woman looked Maya's way, her expression quickly turning to one of irritation, perhaps. Maya quickly looked away, then tried looking back with what she hoped would be a more apologetic look, but the Alphan was now turned away. Maya had forgotten her manners, had been staring, and the pregnant woman had seen it. After almost twelve Alphan days of finding it difficult to be stared at with expressions she often did not understand, Maya herself should have known better than to be staring at an Alphan.

Later, back in her quarters, she considered the incident, which reminded her of some other difficult incidents, such as with Greg Sanderson, Jim Haines, and Thomas Hayden. That the latter two were more minor incidents in discussion sessions did not make them that much easier because they were showing other forms of rejections, sometimes from leaders.

This then had her considering Alphan leadership principles she had observed but did not entirely understand yet. Psychon ziran patterns were more flexible and situational in many cases, and seemed closer to the Alphan concept of team -- in some ways.

Maya's thoughts wandered for awhile more, back to Psychon. But then she considered the Alphans again. Many of them were drawing Maya into the operations of the base, showing her devices she was happy to learn about, the underpinnings and overall use of various technologies and procedures. That some were more accommodating or encouraging than some others was encouraging on the former, and though the latter hurt her some, she could understand.

Yet she felt she was being passive in some ways about it. She was asking a lot of questions and thus taking active interest -- but at a lower level of details. The Commander, Tony, and Sandra were arranging all those meetings, and she felt like she was being whisked about. She was glad they were doing so, and keeping her busy. It was giving her a feeling she could find a role on the base, and even work well with enough of the Alphans to contribute.

She wanted to show some initiative, however -- had been wanting to for a little while now. She was concerned about trying to invite herself into some operational activity they might not want her to participate in, however, and had been struggling for awhile, since she wasn't sure what was all involved with work on the base until she was already being introduced to it.

Finally, though, she recalled the conversation back on Eagle 4 as she was being brought from Psychon to the Moon.

She immediately smiled. Nothing had been mentioned about that since it had come up in that discussion. Maybe they had changed their mind and didn't want her considering it, but their words at the time and actions since then made her doubt that. So she decided to go ahead, but then realized she did not know how.

As it happened, though, a lunch'meeting was already scheduled with the Commander, a little early for her and rather late for him, but a good compromise. They sat down in one of the cafeterias with some food, and while she arranged bread'salad again, of which the Commander took no particular notice, they shared some small'talk that was almost more like main'talk, about how she was adjusting, what she had been doing recently. Finally, into a gap, she asked.

"Commander, are you and Alan still serious about allowing me Eagle flight training?"

"Of course. If you want to apply as a possible pilot, go ahead."

"Yes, I would like to," she said simply.

"Good," he said. "There is an electronic form to fill out. Ask Sandra about it. After that, Alan and I will discuss the application with you."

Later in the day, in Alan's quarters, he logged into AIS and brought up Work Station Access, needing to keep up to date, even on a weekend, even if he didn't need to act on most information until the week started.

In his queue, he found an application for training, and was gratified to discover it was from Maya. It made for interesting reading. She had an odd sense of punctuation, but he breezed past the basics to the list of prior flight experience, and discovered she'd been learning to fly various ships, including things called Aldi'neelka and Alni'trakada class, from an earlier age than he had expected.

He wondered if Mentor's spaceship was the Aldi'neelka. If there had been more time, perhaps she could have reached that and flown it to Alpha. Then again, she might not have come to Alpha, but started looking for her own people, assuming any had left Psychon during its decline -- though perhaps even that ship had insufficient range, and he found it hard to imagine perhaps having to wander the galaxy alone, for maybe a lifetime. Given some of the discussion with Maya or what he heard in Command Conferences, Maya seemed to have little expectation of seeing her people again. She had not asked to send a signal. Of course, light speed was slow in the vastness of space, and the Moon was on a strange superluminal course between stars. In any case, the poor lady seemed to be stranded.

That she was actually a rather attractive woman, however alien, had not gone unnoticed, by Alan or others. The talk and jokes were growing a little more frequent, at least until news of Maya turning into a lioness spread like wildfire throughout the base. Between that and the memo, talk about 'not bad looking for an alien-looking alien' or such now seemed to be mostly replaced with a lot more references to just 'alien' but also 'freak' or 'bizarre' or 'scary' or such.

For some reason, her abilities scarcely bothered Alan. He had reacted at the post-Psychon debriefing. It had been a wallop, but almost right away, he was more amazed than scared. He sometimes wondered why, but being on the front lines on Alpha meant he had seen and heard of a lot of strange things -- though he again thought this one had to be near the top of the list if not right there. That he found her attractive and sweet-natured probably didn't hurt. He wasn't afraid to admit that to himself.

He got back to the printout. It was the earliest flight experience information that he found most attention-grabbing. A kid being handed the controls to a spaceship flying faster than the speed of light? He laughed. When he was young, he had imagined climbing behind the controls of various ships he had seen on television showings of various space series, not even realizing that somewhere out in space, an alien child was doing exactly that sort of thing.

Certification on two spacecraft types and simulator runs on twelve more? She was almost over-qualified. That would still not affect his training. He always took past experience into account, but she would still have to learn the Eagle as a separate ship. For all he knew, an Eagle could be the most primitive and virtually unflyable thing to her. He had pride in his small fleet, though, and she'd still have to learn to fly them just like anyone else.

Then he realized who might be the other trainee in the class. Sandra was an officer who did not have Eagle flight training yet, the last of the surviving officers not to be trained. With the frequency that officers were on exploratory missions post-Breakaway, it had been realized it would be prudent if all of them could become pilots, instead of having only some of them knowing how to fly Eagles.

A class of two women? Back on Earth, women Eagle pilots were uncommon. None had posted to Alpha on Alan's watch. Alan himself had only trained one on Alpha: Helena. A mixed class was unusual enough, but two women would be a new thing for him....

M-357 DAB 1520-1700: Admissions and Discipline

The command corps had decided not to have a full court martial for Greg Sanderson, but rather just a disciplinary hearing. The charges were serious enough for the former, but could be dealt with in the latter instead, just as well, and this seemed the better idea. Greg himself had already expressed some regret, saying it was a stupid, thoughtless action. He was even blunt on admitting his distrust of Maya and anger over Mentor's attack which had killed his fiancée, but kept saying it was stupid to have lashed out at her. He still didn't seem to understand that his commlock misuse was a problem too, and got irritated about it. Between Greg's seeming to have calmed down from his moment of rage, Maya's statement, Tony's statement, witness statements from Joan Conway, George Crato, and Jennifer Cranston, there wasn't much need for a complex proceeding, and Greg Sanderson was denying little, except for hearing Tony's stand-down orders.

Only John, Tony, Sandra, and a randomly-chosen non-involved person were here. Sandra was present to record some further facts and observe things as someone John felt could perhaps learn senior officer training at some point. The random person was there as a rumor-control measure, to allow someone not involved to see part of the process, including conclusions on guilt.

In the end, most of the charges stood, of assault and battery against Maya, battery against Tony, misuse of commlock Security guard privileges, indirect damage to a control in a key facility. No one could be certain Greg had heard Tony's stand-down orders and consciously ignored them, or that the orders just didn't register. The latter seemed quite possible in all the commotion and conflicting voices. So that charge was dropped.

Discussion of possible disciplinary actions went behind closed doors, between just the Commander and his First Officer. Tony's request for Sanderson's permanent dismissal from Security Section duties was officially granted. The unprovoked attack on Maya might have been sufficient, but together with the abuse of commlock privileges, and ignoring a superior's orders, willful or not, made the decision easy.

Greg's confinement to quarters was counted as some time served, but the remaining days of a full week since the assault would be served in detention. After that, he would be temporarily taken off Survey duty, and given three weeks of menial duties. Sanderson kept his survey role, including his team leadership. There was no reason to take away one of his careers, where he had not acted inappropriately, over losing his head, however wrongly, in a different context. Plus, his survey team was the best out there, under his leadership, and those skills and their finds were needed to aid in Alpha's survival.

Sanderson's file already indicated he was very intelligent, but prone to bouts of loud complaints, and overreaction; yet was noted as someone who just had a strong bark more than a lot of misplaced bite. Sanderson's facing up to the charges and even admitting he was out of place, while still having some very strong opinions, was consistent, and John hoped his snapping was temporary and that he would re-center himself as he dealt with his grief. Hopefully Sanderson would not be a problem again.

M-357 DAB 1440-1900: Of Dawnings and Black Suns

Early on what was Alphan afternoon, before breakfast in Maya's first'part, Carl called into her room. Prepared already for the day, she let him in. He had a cart holding two more boxes, and some larger piece of equipment. Then, she looked around, wondering where she would store them.

Probably noticing her looking around, Carl said, "You know, you should really ask for your own lab."

She wasn't sure she wanted to ask for more space for herself. It felt selfish somehow. Yet Carl's lab was not his living quarters. Maya herself had a professional role, but her security situation.... Carl was probably expecting an answer. "I may have to do so," she said non-committally. "Thank you."

With no discussion session, further medical analysis, or other training until the Alphan evening, she was left with time for more tinkering. She searched for and found more components for potential scanner integration into the microwave'unit, if she was permitted to try, so that it could shut itself off when the food intemp was sufficiently high, the device could shut it down. She even entertained thoughts of scanning parts of the food and varying the radiation emission to address lowertemp parts more than hitemp -- but deciding to focus on the initial scanner idea. After some searching, she found she was lacking some items to bridge other....

The thought of 'bridge' had her abruptly thinking of Bridge'world again, and that she was to be part of a mission. She had learned some Alphan scanners already, but was sure she did not know them all. Though she did not say it, they seemed too simple. Usually, one such scanner had only one function or a couple closely related ones -- that she had seen so far.

She started thinking of the small scanning circuits she wanted to add, but then removed the ideas from the context of the microwave, and started imagining those same functions and more in an independent device. She dug out a nearly empty scanner housing she had noticed earlier, a different dish structure, and struts, but was disappointed when she analyzed them. The emitters were too specialized in nature too. If she instead used metal disks and charged them with variant fields, they could.... Her breath caught as an idea dawned on her: a multiscanner. The more she thought, the more she liked the idea, though the one housing was a bit too small.

She wiled away the hours starting to list possible functions and draw out paradiagrams, and dig through more of what she had available, eventually finding a somewhat larger but still compact housing for a potential scanner.

She left lots of question marks in her diagrams: her knowledge of current Alphan circuitry combinations was still full of gaps. She began asking more questions of Carl, gathering summary information of a lot of devices. Some ideas using Alphan circuitry patterns, she discovered were not yet represented by actual circuits. Those ideas struck her as being some part of her Psychon knowledge now starting to extend into Alphan technical'space. Not Psychon technology; just ideas, different ways of thinking with the same Alphan technology.

This gave her pause. Maybe the Alphans would not welcome this. Then again, the Commander had mentioned, all the way back on Eagle 4, about her people's advanced technology. Yet to just start using some of it, or in this case a bit of its flavor, troubled her. Flashes about Mentor losing his way flitted uneasily through her mind. He had not had any oversight for years, except for Maya's persistent but in hindsight ineffective questions. She fled those thoughts rapidly, still not ready to face them; but they chilled her enough that she decided she had to involve someone else.

She decided to ask the Commander if they could talk sometime soon, to discuss a technical idea. She sent him an Electronic Post, and about an hour later, he arrived.

She offered him some orange'juice, which he accepted. She tried a brief amount of Alphan small'talk, but soon got to main'talk, laying out her ideas, listing what she was going to scan for. He asked for some basics of construction methods she had considered, and she described them.

"Okay, approved. When you have more of a design in mind, submit a request for whatever additional materials you may need. Sandra can show you how."

"I think I have almost everything here already." He looked at the piles in what she recognized as a dubious look, so she added, "Trying to repair and use these is helping me greatly in learning Alphan technology."

"Okay, but feel free to ask for anything you're lacking."

"Thank you."

He looked around some more, and she apologized for the clutter, which was starting to offend her own sense of order. For some reason, it looked even worse given the lack of a pleasing orange background, and this white instead.... She stopped, suddenly remembering something. "Short orange'red, and never-comes white," she murmured.

The Commander gave her an odd look, then said, "What?"

"Commander, I'm recalling some more legends of Kaska'lon. Fragments, really, but--"

"Actually, that's good timing. Why don't you come to the Command Conference Room to write them down, and let me see about arranging a meeting."

She almost said she did not think there was enough to warrant a meeting; but she had already been growing restive to discover more about how they were going to deal with the situation, and Tony had not been informative in that regard.

"What the hell does that incoherent mess mean?"

If someone didn't already know, whoever was at the meeting could easily pick up the hint Tony had no patience for poetry, human or alien.

"That's a long fragment," John commented to Maya.

"I remembered the rest of it as I started writing the first quadline."

John Koenig, Tony Verdeschi, Helena Russell, Alan Carter, and Sandra Benes all stared at the mysterious poem Maya had written on the whiteboard that held the other two she had recalled, and the spatial diagram she had drawn.

John, Tony, Helena, Alan, and Sandra all stared at what Maya had written on the board. Though it had almost neat lines again, it was not so painstakingly shaped like the one poem that had most captured their attention. This one was a little more erratic in shape and a lot more erratic in flow.

To everyone's surprise, Tony was the first to voice a theory, on one line. "Okay, I think I get that the 'hideously long blue' sunrise is the Alkinarda. It must be, what, 130 degrees across in Kaskalon's sky and take a long time to rise."

"144.0," Maya said.

"Ah, thank you Miss Computer," Tony said with a smile, though Maya's expression showed concern.

"Short orange red. Redsun," Alan said.

"Then what is 'never comes white' exactly, I wonder," John said. Long silence followed. Similar silence greeted others quoting the parts they found most curious.

"'Breathings and bumps' makes it sound like a ghost story," Helena said, "except why 'across the glass ring'?"

"More references to the city," Sandra said. "With the shaped poem, that makes it locked, lost, untouchable, a museum, silent, and under glass. Maybe some of the other words too, though it is difficult to tell with this poem."

"And we're supposed to find a damn key in such a place?" Alan said.

Conversation turned to trying to cross-link parts of some of the poems. Maya was asked if the poems had titles. "No, they do not." Maya had described one poem as being the first of the cycle. Tony asked her to label it with a one; but Sandra suggested calling it 'Introduction' instead.

"That is fine," Maya said, "because I cannot number all of these yet." So Maya, who had taken a seat during the conversation, stood up and added that, and it wasn't long before all the poems so far had names suggested by Terrans.

Maya then added another poem to the board, giving it a name herself.

"So is that all of them?" Tony asked.

"No, I think there is at least one more, perhaps a couple."

"Shelter Space," Helena immediately noticed about the newest.

"More of the talk of the two races being called the Giants," Tony said with a sigh.

"What Shelter Space?" Helena persisted.

"Where the Star'movers went," Maya said. "Or so others have speculated."

"I'm not sure I understand," Alan said. "It refers to the Bridge taking them there. Does it take everyone there?"

"No. Everyone else has just gone to the other side of the Alk^inharda, in the same general area though not the exact position. The Shelter Space location is unknown. Mythical perhaps. Though...."

"What?" John prompted when Maya's pause continued.

"There was speculation is that the Star'movers could displace the Bridge from its normal End to the Shelter Space instead."

"So the other Giants, the Star Makers could perhaps also...." Tony trailed off, and said, "Maya, I hate those names," he said abruptly. "This whole 'Giants' thing is a little old," Tony griped.

Maya was silent for a moment, looking utterly baffled as to what Tony was saying.

"I think what Tony is trying to say is that Earth has lots of fairy tales about giants and other mythical creatures," John tried explaining.

"Fairy tales?"

"Stories about fanciful -- fictional -- creatures."

Maya seemed to lock on the word 'fictional' and grow a little impatient. "Commander, the legends may be a little fanciful and the poems vague and difficult to understand, and parts may be more myth than fact, but overall, they are not fiction. The Star'movers and Star'makers are said to have stomped about this area very heavily, disturbing, disrupting, and destabilizing a lot of other worlds in this area. The Alk^inharda is the most visible remains. The legends surrounding them suggest the Star'movers eventually took pity on this area and decided to leave, and provide more limited passage across one of the dangerous remains of the war."

"Why those names?" Sandra asked.

"No one really understands why they are called Star'movers and Star'makers. The names are fanciful, but few doubt they disturbed the area greatly. Some species called them together the 'Giants', not for size but power, and after sixteens of... I mean tens of thousands of years, only all of these fanciful names remain, except for some who prefer to call the Star'movers the Bridge'builders instead."

"Bridge Builders," John said. "Sounds like they were a little more peace-wanting."

"Then the Star Makers...." Tony again paused. "What were the Psychon terms?"

Maya, in the middle of sitting back down, looked startled, then finished sitting before responding. "Those were... oh, in Psychon. Kor'ayi for Star'makers, and Orca'ayi or the compacted Orcayi for Star'movers.

"Orca, eh?" Tony said, rolling his eyes as he continued.... "So, it's a whale of a tale in any language."

"Whale of a tale?"

"Star Mover. Orcayi. An Orca moves. Yep, that works."

"I don't understand."

"Oh, never mind."

John cleared his throat, and said, "Okay, let's get back on point. I think what Tony was starting to ask is if both the Korai and Orcayi are so-called Giants, what stops the Korai from following?"

Maya sat back, and lifted both arms and hands, palms open, a gesture she may have had herself or had picked up from Alphans. "I don't know."

Tony looked back at the board. "'So it will close.'" He again looked at Maya, who shook her head.

The Commander sat back now. "Then if all we have to go on are myths and exaggerated stories, rumors about what is in the Alkinarda and on Kaskalon...."

"I do not know what to say, Commander," Maya said, suddenly sounding fatigued. "No one around here dared fly into the Alk^inharda, but came to Bridge'world -- Kaska'lon -- to cross it. There is a Bridge there. I have no doubt of it, nor of the fatal danger in the Alk^inharda itself. The name would not have persisted and spread among sentient space-faring species without reason. The more fanciful parts are dismissed, but everyone knows there is a Bridge."

"Well, if we cannot solve the problem and end up into the Alkinarda, we do stand a chance."

"How? You said similar words before, but I did not understand."

"We don't entirely understand it either," the Commander said. "We suffered gravitational disturbances and a death due to them, before we reached the Black Sun, and were too close to do anything but send a few people off in a lifeboat Eagle, but Alpha plunged in. We had a new Bergman Shield, but don't know how it held, or if it was what really protected us. We still have an eerie feeling something... special... wonderful... happened in there, but no one has direct memories. We emerged on the other side, and the lifeboat Eagle even appeared near us, not that long after."

Maya had that surprised look again. "Through a singularity."

"Alpha did. We don't even know how the Eagle...."

"Something..." Helena said, cryptically.

Maya looked around; clearly struggling to understand vague statements. Finally, she asked a question. "Rotating or non-rotating?"

"What? Oh. Its outside was not rotating, at least not visually in our timeframe."

"And as you got further into the... time... distortion...."

"Relativistic effect?"

"I am not sure that is the same term. Did you see any rotation then?"

"To tell you the truth, we were not watching carefully with our own eyes, and Computer was deactivated and did not record the event."

"Oh," she said simply, then after a pause asked another question. "What about quantum rotation?"

"What?"

"Its internal singularity spin vector."

"How would we know that?"

"Oh," she simply said, again.

"What difference would that make?"

"A toroidal singularity from internal quantum rotation might allow a passage, but even that is highly unlikely."

"Maya, we don't know. We survived it. The Bergman Shield... or something...."

Maya paused, again looking from one to the other, then finally saying, "I do not think this is the same thing."

"You said it is a singularity."

"The Alk^inharda? It is some of the same principle, but different in form, a torn plane many light-years in diameter, and influencing many more."

"What difference does its shape make?"

The discussion became more technical, and eventually, more scientists were brought in, and the initial group broke up, John, Maya, and Tony stayed, while Helena, Alan, and Sandra left. The meeting removed to a lab. Among those brought in were Dr. Joan Conway, given she was a theoretical physicist as well. There were a couple other new introductions as well.

The new group did not improve the clarity in discussion. Everyone became muddled in details, and trouble talking across a scientific gap of millennia. Much talk of elemental particles and forces flew by, some clarification of human terminology. An occasional word in Psychon slipped in; some clarified to English terms, but some not. Supper was brought in. Maya seemed ready to refuse, since her next meal was not until the early morning hours, but seemed to think again and take a small portion. Discussion continued through the meal, and into the evening. The scientists grew restive. Maya grew restive and more fatigued, clearly not used to interacting with so many people at once. The officers grew restive. Maya could not argue her way out of Alphan experience, but she tried, to the point of starting to set off some of the scientists, who themselves had gone through the Black Sun, of course.

"It is like you want to go through the Alk^inharda," Maya commented.

There was some silence, then John commented. "No, we recognize the risk of it being something different."

"Yet, you are arguing with me."

"We are presenting facts you have not experienced, but know it does not necessarily extrapolate."

"I think you believe they do."

There was dead silence all around. Maya looked around, starting to look apprehensive, yet holding her ground, not apologizing. They decided a break was in order, to let it soak in and people to cool.

"When do we meet again?" Maya asked -- not quite a demand but still pretty strong in tone for her on Alpha.

"We'll let you know."

Tony called a guard to escort Maya, Joan Conway going along. Tony wasn't sure where, and didn't really care. As long as a guard was present, Maya could go back to quarters, visit at Joan's quarters, go to a cafeteria, one of the libraries, or anywhere else Maya's commlock was currently authorized to let her. Tony remained as everyone else filtered out. Eventually, he and John were alone in the lab.

"Yes?" John finally asked Tony.

"So you thought we'd avoid the arrogant alien thing?"

"Tony.... She wasn't through what we were."

"Yet she was lecturing us."

"Maybe a little, but no more or less than we were her."

"Ha, I think not."

"Don't be so sure. In the end, we both insisted on our viewpoints, but neither could convince the other across a gulf of understanding. But again, I am not convinced this is the same thing anyway."

"Yeah, neither am I, but I didn't like her attitude."

"I did. She was standing up for her viewpoint, and for once without excessive apologies."

"You probably caught her in a bad mood."

"Over what?"

"I don't know. I'm just speculating."

"No, she knows how to stand her ground. I've seen it."

"Like when she stubbornly would not listen to you, back on Psychon."

John sighed. "Tony, we've been over that. She didn't know, had no reason to believe us, and did listen. I'm sure she did here today too, but just doesn't understand."

"Uh huh."

"Do we even understand?"

There was silence.

Finally, Tony shrugged, and while not taking back his points, seemed to silently concede John might have a point.

T-358 DAB 0800-1210: Languages of the Everyman

"Smitty, this is Maya. Maya, this is Alpha's original, one and only, John Smith."

"But everyone calls me Smitty."

Now Maya was beginning to suspect Tony was teasing her in some way, playing on her easy confusion with complex Alphan names. It seemed almost every introduction on Alpha came with some new substructure to someone's name. Original, One and Only? Is that a title? No, that makes negative sense. "Everyone calls you Smitty?" she finally asked, again trying to find the most unambiguous part.

"Yep."

"Okay, Smitty."

"Very good."

"Smitty here is one of our many technophiles. Where Carl can build, take apart, rebuild, and repair, Smitty..."

"Can't do a bloody thing like that."

"He just knows how to operate just about any piece of equipment outside of Nuclear Generating Areas and Eagles--"

"And some equipment in them too."

"Right. He gets a little grumpy if you try to tell him otherwise."

"All kidding aside, I would be happy to start working you through usage procedures on the types of equipment I am familiar with. It is far from everything, but is spread through Alpha, ranging from laser cutters in remote research units to... well, I'll show you. I guess Tony brought you to me for breadth if not depth. Science Advisor probably means you'll end up using a lot of these devices, sooner or later, I suppose." He ended with a shrug.

Her role was still being determined based on where she showed skill, and through the rather energetic descriptions, she could easily recognize this man was more of a wider-ranging generalist on mechanical device usage, so she quickly understood how this meeting would be helpful.

She eagerly soaked it in over the next 3.5 hours, minus a break. Tony had left her with Smitty and, for the first time, a more relaxed and friendly Giles for guard, needed given how many locations Smitty took her to. There would have to be a number of these meetings.

They ended up at Smitty's lab. It was a shared lab, she had been told; but by arrangement, no one else was present for now.

"You soak up this stuff like a snap."

"What?"

Abruptly, Smitty stopped, his linguistic curiosity triggered. He sometimes thought of himself as an amateur linguist. He had scarcely learned more than two languages to any depth, but knew a few hundred or more words and some basic grammar in a dozen, and some basic rote phrases in a couple dozen more. What he really found interesting, however, was etymology and general linguistic history.

Alpha's only trained philologist, Anna Davis, had left for Arkadia some time before, in a rather strange incident, the normally level-headed technician caught up in the mysteries of an alien planet, jumping to a lot of conclusions, and helping Luke Ferro take a hostage to get Luke and Anna to Arkadia permanently. After what was officially termed her desertion of Alpha, Smitty had asked for and received much of her books and computer disks on languages, on a wide mix of ancient, medieval, and modern.

On skimming some of them, Smitty's doubts immediately started growing. Was Sanskrit really so close to the root of the proto-European -- a.k.a. Indo-European -- language tree? What did that have to do with the Afro-Asiatic language tree? Sino-Tibetan? Various other families? Language isolates? Perhaps the Arkadian version of Sanskrit, which Anna speculated was an earlier version, which he preferred to call Arkadian, had been higher up on the Indo-European tree. Perhaps not. Had Anna overlooked the other trees? Or did she know something he did not? Still, he was doubting her hypotheses. There was no doubt Arkadian had become part of human history, but the timing and extent was becoming less and less clear the more he looked and considered it.

He had eventually expressed some doubts to the Commander, and surprisingly, found the Commander too was starting to think twice. There was virtually no doubt about an Arkadia-Earth connection, but it was starting to seem more partial yet more complicated, than first thought.

Prior to that, Smitty and Anna, despite a mutual interest, however amateur his was compared to hers, had never connected that much. They had shared only a few conversations on linguistics, which mysteriously seemed to be scarcely needed in deep space. That made little sense to him: even if one assumed some sort of device or other means allowing an alien to translate so smoothly, how could every little planet out there know English?

Yet Maya seemed to stumble on certain points, and not just colloquial expressions, but sometimes some typical if not most commonplace words. It was an interesting subtlety that had finally triggered conscious curiosity. Why it had taken so long, he did not know.

"Meaning you're fast to learn," Smitty said, finally answering Maya's question. "Not to be abrupt, but how do you know our language?"

"It is okay. There is a trading species, a long-spacefaring race called the Khorask, and their specialty is selling language'data. They sell languages in packages of 16 each. The data come in hypercube representation, called... an Associative Language Hyperarray, where the languages are all presented at once, and the recipient peoples can unspool it however they want. However, Psychons long ago learned they could memorize the entire packet as a whole, and--"

"Wait, are you saying you can memorize 16 languages at a time?"

Maya nodded. "It still takes a little while, but in that way, it is still just data. Symbols, meanings, pronunciations. Raw data."

"And just start speaking and reading them?"

"That is different. When I hear a language, initially, there is an adjustment period, until I can find the correct array and language, then until I can fully lock on the... right thread structure and adjust for pronunciations as best as I can. It can give me trouble following rapid speech early on, or forming fully correct sentences for a little while."

"But you are already very good."

"The period is," she looked down, apparently not wishing to seem arrogant, "not very long."

"So your father picked up our communications before we arrived and told you what language?"

"He told me. I was not sure of his method, but your logic'jump seems a reasonable hypothesis."

He was amazed. As if there weren't enough signs, here was another that her mind had considerable 'processing power.' "Did you learn a lot of languages?"

She looked at him, as if assessing how open he was to an answer. "Yes. My fath...." She paused, then re-started. "I knew about twelve through a slower process, when I was a small child. As I got older, to the age most of us start absorbing massive data rapidly, he started giving me hyperarrays to learn, but only slowly. Two years after we went into our shelter to try to restore the planet, Mentor suddenly started insisting I learn as many as I could from the data systems, even tested me often to make sure I did. I never understood why he got so insistent so suddenly, but in... retrospect, it seems like it was a good idea."

Smitty, married, and with a baby daughter in the middle of often hostile space, abruptly had a thought.... "Just in case," he blurted.

"What case?"

"Maybe he was afraid that if your attempts failed, you two, or just you, would end up alone in space, traveling to find a home. Or maybe even that you would somehow end up by yourself among aliens."

Maya looked startled, and said nothing for a moment, then, quietly, "I had not considered that before. Thank you."

She then looked at him expectantly, like she had decided to file the thought for consideration later, and was ready for more questions. It was a perfectly charming look, he abruptly realized. Of course, he had some questions.

"Okay, I was going to ask what languages before, but let me ask; what other languages are on the same array?"

"As Alphan?"

He nodded, again too fascinated -- his mind stumbling over too many questions -- to take even the moment to correct her terminology.

"I do not know the name for most of the languages. The Khorask seem to leave out or lack a lot of key details, some of the more technical terms, and they do not seem to bother with... most collaquial expressions at all."

"But not even the name?"

"No. No one knows exactly why." She paused. "Some names become known by other means, while some remain known only by the Khorask grid names for them. Alphan, for example, is Associative Language Array 2719.9, variant -1."

He again ignored the "Alphan" reference as he immediately jotted down the designation. It meant nothing to him, yet it was wild to hear English given such a designation.

"Ten of the sixteen languages were like that on this array. There is also Telninar, coincidentally. It is only... 19.72 light-years from Psychon. I had not yet learned it by traditional methods, so there was no redundancy."

He almost instantly interrupted right here, wondering if "traditional methods" meant what he thought, but it was yet another question he jotted as "? trad meths" to ask in a few minutes, preferring to let her answer the rest of the question.

"Then there is Tr'eestokarada, Yestercond, Tral, and a little of one of its variants, Trakzyal. I don't know any of those people, just the languages and in their cases, their names."

"So if you ever heard Yestercond or... Tral, you would recognize either almost instantly since it is on the same array as the one you are using now?"

She looked at him like it was the strangest question to ask, but answered with an even voice. "Not really. The arrays don't work that way, and the leads into them are not part of the array, but other parts of my own memory."

"Sorry, but if it is an 'associative' array...?"

"It is not that kind of association, more like a computer... algorithm to... compress data by finding coincidental similarities. I... I would not know how to explain further without thinking about it more."

Yet to him, it -- the earlier part about associations and not so much the compression part -- sounded a lot like how the human mind worked, that if the context was unclear, the whole subject would be too, but as soon as the context was clear and the mind shifted into that context, a lot of information could start coming to mind much faster.

"So you have to index key terms outside of the array, in your own mind."

Her eyes widened in surprise. She was very expressive, which he thought would probably serve her well on Alpha, to show she was not a threat. Then she showed another -- surprise compliments....

"You and your people are really good at making... quick jumps from incomplete facts to possible conclusions."

"Leaps of logic? Speculation. We sometimes call it brainstorming -- my favorite term for it, actually."

"Brain'storming. What a wonderful word!" Maya said, obviously not having heard it before but grasping the metaphor immediately. She then continued. "Yes, that takes practice. If I don't, it can take even longer as I search for each array and check it."

Another thought occurred to him, and he jotted it down quickly: "key Earth lang phrzs." Abruptly, he realized it was too easy and irresistible, and asked, "Would you mind trying something?"

She nodded, then shook her head, as if she found the question ambiguous, then finally said. "Please, do so."

So he began trying a phrase in various languages: "It is good to meet and talk with you about several subjects." She asked for more words, so he added another, more pedestrian but common sentence using different words. Time was limited, so he picked a small group, almost at random, occasionally looking up some words. At her request, he just ran through all of them, saying "New language:" before each.

A little while after the last was done, she got a look of recognition, repeated the first phrase back at him -- it was Modern German -- then added, also in German, with a little smile, "It is nice to talk with you too." She then asked what its name was.

"The language is often called German, but Deutsch by the Germans themselves. What designation does German have to you?"

"1433.7, marked as variant 2." It was the "variant" bit which caught his attention. "Variant 2? Do you know other variants?"

"It is marked as being associated with 479.3, and--"

"Excuse me, can you say something in it? 479.3 I mean?"

"Ah, give me a few seconds to find it and...."

It was nearly ten seconds, then she mentioned it was "marked as variant 1." She next spoke sentences, and it took him nearly ten seconds to place. She was repeating her earlier response, but now in Old High German, which he actually knew little about other than being able to recognize most of the words of her sentences.

Feeling the press of time, he moved to a question. "Then what does 'variant -1' mean?" he asked, referring to the designation of English she had listed some minutes before.

"It means the Khorask felt they were hearing several minor... variants... but could not sufficiently separate them."

He was tempted to ask her to say some more things in Old High German, for he found it ironic that among three hundred humans left on Alpha, he was the only one to be able to speak even a little of it, sitting close by was the only other person who knew it, and that she had just stepped onto Alpha from an alien world not long before. She might know even more of the language. Space sometimes made for strange circumstances. Sometimes?

She also turned up Mandarin Chinese and Latin, then added, "Wait, some of you have been speaking words of Latin to me, especially in medical and other technical specialties."

Smitty laughed. "Yeah, the language does borrow a lot from other languages, including from Latin."

"No wonder it is filled with so much word'sound reuse and multiple words meaning the same or almost identical thing."

He quickly laughed and said, "Homophones and synonyms, yes. The language is filled with them, and you drew the correct connection, at least as far as I know." He jumped to something else that kept begging to be asked. "Just how do you memorize an array so quickly?"

"It is just data. Symbols, meanings, pronunciations. Raw data," she answered, as if that said everything.

It was something she had already said, and he was finally getting the implications. "You just have to see data once, and you have it instantly memorized?"

"Instantly isn't the right term. It goes to some sort of short-term memory, then eventually gets moved to more permanent memory, even more effectively if I briefly review it again. I just try to make sure this particular kind of information goes through as four-dimensional data, since it is more efficient that way."

"You can picture four-dimensional objects in your mind?"

She shook her head. "No. How could we? This universe has only three spatial.... Sorry, that came out the wrong way, I apologize for my--"

"Maya, don't worry about it. Uh... then how do you memorize four-dimensional objects if you cannot really picture them?"

"I can picture... extrusions of it in three dimensions, rotating the fourth dimension -- associatively or mathematically perhaps -- to bring different three-dimensional... shadows?... into view. Sort of."

He still felt the press of time, jotted a couple notes, and moved on. "You said you had not previously learned, uh..." -- he checked his notes -- "Telninar by traditional methods. How did you learn Psychon?"

"From my parents all along, and supplemental information from schools. It takes awhile to master."

Like any person in that way. She had mentioned learning several languages in the 'traditional methods.'

Just then, Tony walked in.

"I don't suppose we could talk a little longer," Smitty said.

"I am sorry, Smitty," Maya said, standing up, "but I have a schedule. Maybe we can talk again after awhile."

"I would look forward to that."

"Oh, and I have found two more of the languages you gave me examples of."

He had stood up with her, but quickly sat down to jot more notes. She gave him another Array designation, having noticed he liked to jot them down, then repeated the phrase. It was Spanish -- Español.

The second was startling. On a lark, he had pulled a completely different phrase from one of Anna's notes, sitting in a drawer in his desk. "Ancient Hittite," he said after a pause, "apparently sometimes called Nesili or Kanisumnili by its native speakers. How on Earth -- I mean -- how do you know that one?"

"It was in one of the arrays, with T%pas'k!o, Yis, Dranauo'phan, Lykrontak, and eleven others. Why?" she said, letting herself express some of her curiosity.

"No information about how the Khorask came by any of the languages, eh?"

"No. Sorry. Is it another from Earth?"

He described how Hittite was extinct, for millennia. The Khorask seemed to be sneaky people, he mused, somehow spying on Earth and other planets to ferret out and sell languages over multiple galaxies. Strange, very strange. Still, that felt like a huge topic, for another time.

He talked with Tony briefly, about the technical part of the session, and the need for more sessions -- there was a lot of equipment on Alpha. Smitty was soon alone, musing, curiously, about a minor point, namely some of the strange sounds she had made listing some language names. How she spoke those sounds, yet still had a curious accent in English.... Of course, to a native speaker of those alien languages, her pronunciation of those sounds would probably have an accent too....

W-359 DAB 1040-1100: Alpha Mother

There were not that many people in the cafeteria sitting and eating. Today it seemed many would just grab food and leave. Maybe it was because they were eating lunch a little earlier than usual. Tony and Maya were sitting and eating, after another four-hour technical session.

Fortunately, those who were there had finally stopped looking at Maya for awhile. Maya was not as unnerved as she once was by the number of people looking her way with expressions she could not interpret, especially at a distance; but she was still nervous, however. Tony kept an eye out, yet also seemed aware of her partial discomfort, because he was also trying hard to engage her in conversation, mostly small'talk she had only the weakest grasp on using. He finally found something she had an easier time discussing.

There was a minor little commotion at the door that drew their attention, as a few women came in talking, one holding a bundle of some kind, before the group split up a little. Maya's breath drew in a little, and she smiled as she hypothesized that it was a baby: it was her first sight, however distant and covered up, of a human child.

Tony looked at Maya, then stood up and walked over to the woman, looking back twice, apparently to make sure no one was approaching Maya. The woman had long dark hair, and an uncomfortable look on her face as they approached Maya -- though any time Tony looked briefly at the woman, she started smiling again, as if comfortable that Tony was there to make the introductions. Maya was already starting to read human bodylang well enough to tell this was going to be an awkward meeting; but she still stood up and smiled a little.

"Susan, this is Maya. Maya, this is Susan Crawford, and her son, George," he said, then added for Maya's clarity: "George Crawford."

"Nice to meet you," Susan said in a neutral tone.

"Nice to meet you too," Maya said in a similar tone.

"Hey Tony!" Alan's voice sounded from across the nearly-empty space of the cafeteria. "If you have a moment, come over here."

With a quick glance at both Maya and Susan, both of them smiling, he excused himself and walked over towards Alan, leaving the women standing. Maya was staring at the child, wanting a closer look, barely able to see even part of his face given how he was wrapped up. She was about to look back to Susan, when George made a little sound and a hand popped out of the blanket.

Maya had not seen a baby for almost half her life, and what was general medical and rules discussion a few days before, suddenly felt that much more real, and her heart warmed, her smile widening as she stared at the tiny fingers, fascinated. Remembering her manners, she quickly looked at Susan again, for some sort of sign she could approach. What she saw was an angry look, and Maya recoiled a bit.

"Listen to me, you damned alien," Susan hissed quietly, "You keep yourself and your freakish transformational powers the hell away from me and especially my baby, you hear me?"

Maya felt like she had been struck by a force field. "Look... fine, forget it." She had started trying to defend herself, but only got one word out before seeing Susan's expression tighten; so Maya immediately relented. It was Susan's baby, and Susan's right to demand this.

"What does that mean?" Susan asked, not understanding Maya's retreat.

"I will stay away from you and your baby. I swear."

"Good, you do that." Susan then turned and walked away, while Maya stood there and tried to stop herself from crying on the spot, feeling slapped in the face.

She did not watch where the woman went after that, and finally had the presence of mind to move back to her seat, sit down, and begin wiping her expression before anyone happened to turn and notice. Maya had expected more such slaps than she had received so far, and though this was a hard one to take, she swallowed her pain, not wanting the rather reactive Tony questioning Susan's request, however unreasonably it was worded. A simple refusal to let Maya approach would have been enough of a signal. By the time Tony got back, she had her expression back to normal.

"What happened to Susan?" Tony asked.

"She was in a hurry to finish greetings and leave," Maya said vaguely.

"Oh. Cute baby, eh?"

Maya had not really gotten to see much his face, just a small hand moving about. "I really did not get a look," she said as casually as she could.

"Oh, too bad she was in a hurry."

"Too bad," Maya said neutrally, but feeling terribly sad inside.

W-359 DAB 1400-1900: Vital Monkeying

Janina welcomed Maya back into NGA-2. Maya walked straight in a little ways, away from the door, obviously remembering her bad experience.

After meeting a couple other workers, different than the time before, Tony soon nodded and left, leaving a guard, and Janina said to Maya, "Why don't you come into the office area?"

It was a large glassed room, with even more orange paneling. Maya took a seat, and immediately looked more relaxed than Janina had ever seen her, the bad memories evidently fading quickly from her current thoughts as she relaxed in what Janina already knew from the last time was a familiar and comforting indoor color to Psychons. Janina smiled at the thought, and so did Maya, seemingly almost reflexively. Janina was happy to see Maya smiling more easily now, already almost as much, if not more, than most Alphans.

Maya, not very good with initiating Alphan-style small talk, remained silent, but Janina wanted to pick that up from the last time too, and asked, "So was it just pure orange? The wall colors I mean."

"In the past it was orange mixed with geometric or non-geometric streaks or... flecks of other colors."

"What colors?"

"Mostly reds or yellows, but occasionally some blues and whites. It was subtle. The orange always dominated. In the shelter, though, it was pure orange. It was assembled quickly, and Mentor and I did not bother creating paint, since the pure orange was good enough and there were other tasks."

It was the most Janina had heard Maya talk about her past experiences, but Janina decided not to push her luck and end up making Maya recall something that made her miserable, so Janina mentioned her favorite colors in return, and they chatted for a few minutes first. Time was ticking, though, and Janina had her agenda, so she moved to that. The first was just to lay down some general physics terminology. Janina had decided not to make that exhaustive the first day, and soon moved to some initial discussion on the Artificial Gravity Generators and the force field generators, and the information soon started moving both ways. Janina soon found out from the Psychon that there were several types of force fields, the two most common of which she described as patterned and unpatterned.

"What is the difference between those two?"

"An unpatterned one is a single, strong energy'sheet which creates a chaotic energy pattern on either side of the main sheet. Disruptive. Painful to touch if it is strong enough. They usually only appear -- visually -- at contact, and are very noisy, but typically only then."

"That sounds like our version. What about patterned force fields?"

Patterned force fields are multiple, thinner sheets, much weaker individually, but layered such that they act as a solid surface. They can be completely transparent regardless of how thick, or interference patterns can be embedded to give them various appearances of an almost infinite variety, all the way up to appearing totally solid. They can even be used to embed moving flat images or holograms. Some Psychons, including my father, called them energy'screens instead."

"Are they noisy?"

"In phases. None of the thin layers are totally stable, and last only so long before breaking down. It is called... shedding. Each layer cycles from in center of the shield outward. A single layer forms on the 'inside' of the force field, becomes embedded in the middle, is eventually exposed on the outside, then breaks down at a certain point, when it makes a little noise, depending on the overall size of the force field and its power."

"How long do the layers last?"

"It varies widely depending on the size and power. Some can shed layers so quickly they constantly hum, some so slowly it is a periodic sound."

The discussion varied. Maya lacked some technical terminology but not the concepts, and soon learned the former, in whatever Janina got to covering so far. Maya gave complements on some aspects of Alphan technology, seeming to find certain aspects more unique or creative, as much as she probably found most or all of it rather ancient. Maya shared a lot, mostly at a higher level, since the lower levels soon ran afoul of the vast technical gap. Still, Janina knew there was a lot more room for future discussion, and she took copious notes about such possibilities. Janina shared much too. Eventually, they moved out of the office, into the main part of the Nuclear Generating Area, to show her around that as well.

That was where the tone changed.

Maya watched, listened, and asked a few questions, of a type Janina soon realized were all just seeking simple clarifications; but the science advisor stopped offering thoughts beyond that. At first, Janina didn't worry too much; but eventually, she stopped and looked at Maya. "Is something wrong?"

"I do not understand."

"You're not saying much any more."

What Janina got back were a series of vague answers and hard-to-interpret expressions. Janina was getting more concerned.

"Maya, just tell me what's wrong."

"This is a vital system that isn't supposed to be monkeyed with."

"Monkeyed with?" Janina asked, not used to Maya using such slang. "Where did you get that? Do you even know what that means exactly?"

The answers only got more fragmentary and puzzling, before Maya shut down, starting to say, "I must have misunderstood something."

Janina got the feeling someone had said something to the Psychon that she was having trouble with. The conflict, whatever it was, was affecting the Commander's original plans, or what Janina understood of them. Maybe Janina herself had missed something, or Maya was told something by the Commander that she was not remembering well and conveying poorly. So Janina decided to call the Commander.

John had already gotten a second-hand impression something had gone awry earlier on: Lena Andreichi had asked to talk to Sandra and John to mention she suspected some 'foolish' behavior on the part of the head of Hydroponics, Thomas Hayden, saying that in the weekly combined Botany/Hydroponics meeting, he had briefly discussed Hydroponics with Maya but that the Psychon had little to offer. "I really hate to even bring this up," Lena had said. "I have no ill will towards any of them, but it makes no sense to me, and something seems foolish."

He had not had a chance to follow up. Procrastination had never suited John much, but prioritization was sometimes necessary. Yet when something jumped up in priority that he had intended to ignore for a short time, he felt like he had procrastinated.

He almost went on his own, but signalled Sandra, Service Section's officer, because she had heard Lena's concern, and his thoughts she could eventually undertake senior officer training, making this seem like a good informal occasion for her to observe something.

As they headed to Nuclear Generating Area 2, he reminded himself not to assume the fault lay with others. It could just as easily be that Maya did lack some understanding in certain areas, or had misunderstood something. Yet hadn't Maya mentioned being the one growing the plants back in the Psychon shelter? She had had nothing to offer Hayden? He pushed that line of reasoning aside. Better to just draw this, whatever it was, into the open.

He got there, Joan explained, and Maya sat there looking fairly calm, but for not the first time, he noticed her fingers again, moving about in one of her 'tells' -- she was uncomfortable. He briefly brought up prior sessions, that he either knew or figured had gone well. He got back glowing discussion about those. Hydroponics: muffled. Sure enough, that is where something had gone wrong.

"Did you have any thoughts to give or suggestions to make there?"

"There was nothing I had to offer there."

It was an ambiguous statement. Nothing to offer Hayden, or nothing Hayden wanted offered? "I find that difficult to believe. You and Mentor were below ground for years and you grew most of the plants there. Were some grown on hydroponics principles?"

"Yes, but nothing the size of Alpha's."

She said it with a defensive tone, which he curiously welcomed, as another early sign she was starting to stand her ground again; though unfortunately, for the wrong reasons. He pushed some more, and she finally started responding more.

"I realized I was overstepping your requirements -- orders -- and when I did, I apologized," she explained.

"Did you understand why you overstepped my orders?"

Maya paused, then said, "No, I do not know what I missed, just that it was over vital areas that you consider to dangerous to alter."

John could now see where Maya could have picked up the phrase "monkey with vital systems." She had evidently either found out the exact meaning of the slang, or had decided she fully understood it from context. "Then why didn't you get clarification from me?"

"Because it is his department and he clearly had an understanding of in what ways your order did or did not apply to his department."

Apparently a hell of a lot less than you think, he thought. It was her naiveté showing through again. "No, Maya, he misinterpreted or misunderstood my orders. I want the exchange of ideas, for you to learn about all sections and departments, for others to listen to you. Did he still show you everything?"

"He was friendly about showing me a lot, so as far as I know, yes."

"Well that much is good. I will be clarifying my orders, and another meeting can be arranged eventually, because I want that exchange of ideas."

Koenig was not happy inside, however. So Hayden was dictating to her the way things are and not considering what could be. He's supposed to be a scientist. He better back off this or I'm not going to consider him a suitable candidate for the Science Board, if his name comes up. John wasn't sure if he could accept keeping a department head that only wanted to keep status quo, either.

"So what about that situation had you talking about 'monkeying around with vital systems' when it came to an NGA?" he finally asked Maya, while Joan leaned forward, and Sandra curiously sighed.

"Commander," the last said, "that might be my fault. Maya casually mentioned recognition that Hydroponics was vital, and I offered that the Nuclear Generating Areas, Protein Production Units, and Environmental all are. I did not realize she was speaking from an additional context."

"Okay," he said simply. Sandra could have asked a question or two, but it was understandable it didn't occur to her. There was a good chance it would not have occurred to him in that place either. "Here is the clarification, Maya -- and I will clarify this with everyone else as well. Nothing you bring up is going to be automatically put into action. There are processes for deciding how minor or major an idea is, how much more research it needs, who else needs to be brought into the discussion, and whether those in higher authority need to be involved. Why Hayden was thinking or implying otherwise, I don't know yet; but that will be cleared up too. So please just revert back to thinking these are all free and open discussions. In your current position, it does not matter what is 'vital' or not. I mean you can be aware of it, and that is good; but don't let it interfere with what you want to ask or comment about. Anything involving the safety of this base and its people, it is the officers and I who decide."

Maya seemed to accept the words with a lot of calm. He paused to let it all sink in, waiting for her response. After a couple moments, she offered one. "Sound logic, and I appreciate the clarification."

"Okay, why don't you and Joan get back to talking--"

Conway looked at him. "Actually, Commander, the period is almost over, so as much as I hate yet another delay to an open discussion about the NGA itself, I would rather start fresh again on another day."

"Okay, you and Maya can arrange it." Maya looked suitably surprised, but held her question.

The small amount of opened time turned out to be perfect for him, Sandra, and Maya to leave NGA-2 and visit the nearest cafeteria, where the discussion continued, first about letting Maya taking control of her schedule, and the need to balance priorities -- including rest and even non-work activities.

Then Sandra suggested that everyone should start writing more formal reports on the technical discussions. Sandra had said little during her observations, but this observation was a good idea.

Tony had placed doubts in John's mind about Sandra, and they were, sadly, all good points. Maybe she wasn't ready, and maybe she wouldn't be for awhile, but she could learn a few things informally, in the meantime. So after letting Maya call a guard she trusted to take her back to quarters, he decided to bring Sandra along while talking with Thomas.

Hayden proved to be defensive, and it wasn't long before he stated, "I thought you told me to be careful and watchful about crazy ideas being brought up in Hydroponics again."

"Yes, I did; but that doesn't mean every idea is crazy."

"She was talking biochemical treatments that sounded awfully alien, not to mention risky. That was her raising Psychon plants."

"Yes, but we keep finding similar or even some of the same species out here-"

"I'm talking about the treatments and systems. It's been damn hard keeping us fed and with a small margin with these systems and plants as it is; but to just take some of those out of the current system and apply more crazy ideas...."

"We need to increase our food-production capacity no matter what," Koenig stated. "That has already been part of the plan."

"Well, with all due respect to what he put together before he died, I don't think Paul's Plan included injecting alien ideas and biochemistries into things."

In what had turned out to be his final months, Paul Morrow had taken primary lead over assembling a new plan that was now considered a key long-term plan. Hayden was sort of right, and sort of wrong. Paul's Plan did not explicitly include considering such ideas, but had not excluded them either, and while not talking about hydroponics per se had encouraged study and debate over what they observed in space or on alien worlds. He had not anticipated an alien resident, but.... "So what? Things change."

"Commander, like I said, we can barely grow what we need for us Alphans, now us plus her too--"

Koenig grew angry. "That statement is completely missing two points. First, I don't know if or why you're counting her as separate, but Maya is now an Alphan. Second, the whole point is to find ways to expand. Some experimentation on a small number of plants, in hopes of growing far more, is expected, and has been for awhile. The addition of possible new ideas from a very different perspective should be exciting, not having you browbeat her about 'monkey around' with things." John paused, then said more quietly, "Again, I understand we've seen some lethal things happen in Hydroponics due to unfettered pursuit of bad ideas, but that's why I said discussion. If you have specific concerns about anything Maya brings up, then by all means, come to Sandra or me with them."

Thomas sighed. "Okay, I understand."

Koenig was under no illusion this meant Hayden was going to like Maya any more, and in fact he rather suspected there would be more problems. Right now, however, he decided to give him some slack, and see if the better scientist came back to strike out the close-minded attitude shown so far.

R-360 DAB 1000-1200: Necessary Flight

Alan looked out over the round table in a windowless room in Hangar 2, Sandra looking prim and cute and beautiful, Maya looking prepared and inquisitive and beautiful, and it suddenly hit him in a different way, more strongly. This wasn't just a class made up of two women, but that it was of these two women.

It wasn't just their looks, but that he had already felt attraction to both. Furthermore, he had tried to leave that aside with Sandra and be there as a friend after she had lost Paul, but she had pushed him away, twice. Maya, he had felt protective towards after she came to Alpha virtually alone and scared after losing literally everything she had known, even her own planet. She had shown no signs of welcoming male interest, however, at least not yet, but had eagerly accepted friendship.

Problem was, both were his trainees. He had felt some level of attraction to many of the women on Alpha, at one time or another, but these two, right now, in one class?

He suddenly found himself wishing there was a trainer-level pilot besides himself. Bill, a relatively new pilot but fast climbing in skill, would be assisting at a couple stages. A few more had roughly similar or slightly better skills, would also be helping, but unfortunately, no one other than Alan could take the primary trainer role.

Alan had never been a primary trainer before Breakaway, but it had since become an absolute necessity, and as much as most of him would rather be back on Earth, he was glad he had made it to the Moon instead, for he did not feel it was ego to think Alpha would have been much worse off without him.

Helena had been the first woman he had trained. Tanya had applied shortly before her death, and was most likely going to be accepted -- though Sandra would have still been trained before Tanya. With Helena, there had been no problem with attraction: she was a lovely, regal woman, but not really his type. Tanya, he had had a brief relationship with, but that had settled back to amiable friendship.

These two, though.... He quickly reminded himself that they were his trainees now, and that any action on straying thoughts would be highly inappropriate. Professional, Captain, be professional. A sense of military rigor came over him. He was captain, a leader, and he had better act like it.

Yet given his pause and both women now looking at them, two sets of eyes trained on the trainer, it still felt like it was going to be a struggle.

He got down to business.

"Morning. You have both been accepted for Eagle training, so this will be the first session of the Alpha Eagle Flight Training Level 1 course. We will start with general information first, then basic Eagle information, then some initial but brief discussion of flight controls, followed by some basic procedures, and in subsequent sessions proceed with a mix of procedures, controls, course plotting, as well as other topics. There will be one or more sessions -- usually shorter than this one -- every day except Sunday. I like to get trainees onto simulators within a week to ten days, followed by more hands-on applications of procedural information with an Eagle, up to activating and shutting down an Eagle, but not its propulsion system of course. Finally, after I deem both of you ready, after a couple weeks of simulators, hands on procedures, and further classroom material, there will be first flight on an actual Eagle.

"Some of this training will at times be aided by other pilots, though I will be your primary trainer. Questions are welcome at any time. I may not be ready to answer right at that moment, but questions are expected. How fast this proceeds will depend on both of you. Whichever one is trailing behind, he... I mean she, will be holding back the other. You may be expected to act as part of a team at times, and as individuals at other times.

"Just so you know, however, if there are major troubles, I can schedule supplemental assist sessions, with me or another pilot, schedules permitting. If one is truly having too many problems, I may have to remove her from the course and she would have to start again in a later class of two. I doubt that will be the case with either of you, so let's proceed."

There, that's better, stick to the mental script. It was his speech, down to the last sentence of encouragement/expectation -- a speech he had written himself yet echoing the first he had heard, years before. Eagle classes back on Earth were much larger than just two trainees, with the idea that some would scrub out or be scrubbed out. Yet when Alan had crafted this training after discussions with the Commander and in Command Conferences, he soon came to realize Alpha could ill-afford scrubbing out too many pilots. With him as the only suitable trainer but with so many other priorities, classes of two had struck him as both more efficient and more effective here. Someone showing weakness would have to be given more drills, more push, but Alpha could ill-afford giving too many the boot. There were virtually no Alphans at the usual age training usually started, and Alan had been forced to accept he could not filter for the absolute best of the best at this stage of training. He could really only filter out the worst of the worst, while pushing the merely average harder.

It rankled Alan, on multiple levels, as a lowering of standards, but he constantly had to remind himself he was running out of those people with military pasts. Some in Security had that, and fortunately some had volunteered and become part-time or in a few cases full-time pilots. Most of the rest of Alpha, however, was civilian. Bill was a civilian who had shown amazing talent. He had probably missed a great career, but was now starting to make one of it here, even while having Main Mission / Command Center duties. The rest, Alan just had to adjust to, while still keeping much of the military rigor nonetheless. Helena had shown herself to be more ready to take that than Alan had expected, even given the steely nature she had repeatedly shown. She seemed to understand keeping a strong sense of order.

Sandra was nothing if not orderly, and she did manage a whole section as well, but he was not sure if she was ready for this. Maya was virtually an unknown. She seemed to be a very fast learner, and generally fast thinking; but beyond that, he did not really know. This class, besides being a first for him in having two women as the trainees, was the first in having an alien trainee. This is almost certainly going to be different. He had no doubt that both dynamics were going to create surprises. He would just have to deal with them, while still keeping to the course. They would be treated like other trainees.

Alan continued through some basic information, asked a couple times along the way if there were questions, found there were none, and proceeded onto general information on Eagle flight.

"At the most basic level, our Eagles fly primarily with a combination of two principles: thrust, and gravitational manipulation. When the Eagle is inside the lift or hangar, the Artificial Gravity Generators are inactive, because it is the base providing the gravity. When an Eagle is brought up to the top of the pad, a gravity sensor detects the decrease in surrounding gravity and activates the internal gravity generators and compensates evenly. Most people don't notice most of the time.

"Then, when the Eagle launches, it uses vertical thrust motors, independent of the artificial gravity system, which cannot be outwardly engaged at very low altitudes. Once it is high enough off the ground, we gradually switch over to external anti-gravity stabilizers, which will then provide most of the needed lift, allowing us to almost completely cut the thrusters, as the main engines kick in. The main engines propel the ship forward while it 'glides' on an anti-gravity cushion."

Alan drew a rough diagram of an Eagle on the whiteboard, with four arrows pointing up, down, forward, and back, and labeled Lift, Gravity, Thrust, and Drag respectively. "So these four main components of flight are still in play. Lift is provided by either vertical thrust motors or anti-gravity. Thrust is provided by the main motors. Drag is only relevant in an atmosphere, of course. Gravity is the external gravity of the Moon or a planet. Once away into space, the principles are different; but I will get to that a bit later."

Maya had a very charming 'inquisitive' expression that was very easy to read, yet she seemed to be holding back.

"Question?"

Looking caught, she paused, then said, "Forgive me if I word this poorly, but why not manipulate the gravity field to provide more of the thrust, instead of main motors?"

"My understanding of the underlying physics and technology of the AGG's -- Artificial Gravity Generators -- is that their fields are symmetric, and even where overlapping, still have some sort of symmetry."

"Yet the external anti-gravity field can be expressed as a symmetrical opposite, or alternatively not expressed."

"I think it is a particle physics kind of symmetry as much as -- or instead of, I'm not sure -- a larger scale symmetry. I think I read that we were decades or more from developing technology to have any fine control manipulation over a gravity field rather than just some basics. You'd have to talk to a physicist or Eagle designer."

Alan returned to his main points. "One benefit too of the use of the AGG's is in hauling material out in space. Relatively light loads can be carried below the Eagle on a cable. The anti-gravity portion of the field presses downward on the load, keeping it away from the body of the Eagle, even away from the Moon or other major gravity sources...."

Alan continued on, moving to the principles of the motors, the fuel used, the fine-scale thrusters, some basic underlying mechanics of the pod separation, the classes of pods, the Eagle naming and renaming conventions.

Sandra asked very few questions, obviously mostly familiar with the basic principles and even many of the underlying mechanics, some areas more than others.

Maya asked few questions at first, but more as time went on, even backstepping topics a little, evidently feeling more and more comfortable with the setting and trusting Alan. Her questions varied between curiosity on tangents of basic points, or very technical questions well beyond what he wanted to cover today, in Level 1 training, or even in pilot courses at all. It was like she thought she was going to be a mechanic. He started getting a little impatient with those questions, but held his tongue, instead either answering those questions briefly, politely brushing them aside, or doing so while jotting down a few of her more unusual observations, for design technicians to ponder.

R-360 DAB 1600-2000: Board and Chair

Commander Koenig was happy to find the new road was taken up quickly. In the space of the standard work week, the representatives were duly chosen, and it was the inaugural meeting of the Science Board. The structure laid out by the officers, which had sometimes put multiple departments in the position of having to choose one representative for that whole subgroup, had been filled, with nominees suggested and voted on. The officers still had right of refusal of a representative, but that was not to be tried lightly. Some concerns had been discussed, including over conflicting personalities -- and not just regarding Maya. However, none were rejected.

Physics, broadly covering several sub-disciplines, had skipped picking a department lead and had selected Joan Conway, as someone who was a supervisor in an NGA, a pure physics researcher, and even with a little knowledge in astrophysics.

Botany and Hydroponics had each selected their department leads.

The Science Advisor, Maya, an automatic member, was present as well. Here in this room, she had a fairly calm and open expression, but he was already aware of one of the 'tells' she still usually had when she was consciously keeping nervousness off her face: that it sometimes appeared in her hands. She was making odd little motions with her fingers, not entirely like clenching and unclenching but more subtle, like there was something else mixed in.

Some brief discussion smoothed out some minor points and reiterated a few major points, including this was considered a temporary measure but if useful might be kept to aide the Science Officer later. With no more questions, he set them their first task, to select a chair, who would act as tiebreaker and be the primary contact with the command corps.

He left at that point. John had never actually set up such a board before, or launched it off to its own devices, however semi-supervised, and he was most curious to discover where this would go. Hopefully to a well-functioning component that regardless how long it was kept active, would relieve some burden from officers -- maybe even from a science officer. It was also to be a test of Alphan tolerance and Maya's mettle. If everyone could get along, with no more than professional arguments, and Maya could show some strength dealing with such a group and its likely times of confusion and professional arguments, it could be good for everyone.

It seemed Maya had followed in the footsteps of a number of family members, albeit in a different way.

Her father Mentor had been part of Psychon's High Scientific Council for 18.37 Psyears, and her brother Telior -- much older than Maya -- for 2.38 Psyears. This had been before the council on Psychon itself broke apart as many died or left Psychon. Before any of that, her paternal grandfather Yetror had done so for a span of 14.33 before he had retired from that group during Maya's infancy, seeking other scientific endeavors in what turned out to be the last few years of his life. They were hardly the only relatives in Maya's lineage. One of Maya's great aunts had been a member as well. Others.

Perhaps she would have ended up as one at some point after reaching her brother's age or later -- though only two related people were allowed at any one point. That thought -- she wasn't sure if it was a goal or hope or just idle thinking -- had faded as other thoughts in Maya's mind had been, a fact she was now increasingly recognizing as a sign she had been losing, unconsciously, some hope of Psychon's restoration.

Yet suddenly, she was on what was not unlike a scientific council, but in a most unusual place and most unexpected way, among unexpected people, at an unexpectedly very young age. There were differences, and as she sat in the room filled with people, she felt strangely alone. This feeling that was growing as she realized she had a long way to go from outsider -- whether socially or professionally -- to insider in more than a superficial way. Plus, she had to be careful to not come across as arrogant, while knowing she wanted to -- had to -- participate, to contribute ideas, opinions, and even help in making decisions.

The first decision, which she did not expect, was to have to vote someone as the chair. How could she judge others whom she scarcely knew anything about? It would be easy to avoid voting for Thomas because he had tried partially shutting her out, or to vote for Janina because she had been welcoming; but in neither case would that have anything to do with science.

It turned out to be a difficult situation, from which she abstained at first, until a tie remained between Carl and Thomas. A stray but convincing thought of hers finally prompted her to decide for Carl. Science was supposed to be an open process. She had "accepted" the rejection by Thomas, assuming Thomas had a good reason to shut her out, when he had none. That was not good science. It was the only decisive datum she had, and she used it.

5/4. "Carl van der Mir has been voted the first chair of Moonbase Alpha's first Science Board."

That earned her a strange look from Thomas that she could not interpret -- nothing that generated fear, but which still made her feel uncomfortable. However, she acknowledged his gaze with a neutral gaze, and he looked away.

As the meeting went on to current topics, Maya found herself mostly listening, asking a few questions, trying to get with the flow of Alphan needs. She also knew these were only a small first sampling of topics. She had a suggestion on protecting the Hydroponics Experimental Section, which was testing some alien plants, with a gas system, that certain alien plants could have remarkable and dangerous growth. The gas she suggested was beyond their capability to produce, and chlorine was substituted instead.

It was a small start, but it seemed good.

F-361 DAB 0805-0810: Third Strike

George Crato was walking in the hallway, his baby daughter in a carrier, to take to a friend and his wife to babysit for the day, on their offset weekend, as a change from the Nursery where one crying baby could keep others awake. He himself was running late to work, when Tony and Maya came around the corner. He was not pleased to see them.

He had not been pleased to be on duty in Nuclear Generating Area 2 one day the prior week, when Joan Conway had welcomed Maya there. It had been strange enough to read the announcement that nutty Mentor's daughter had been made into Alpha's Science Advisor, then downright bizarre to read of her freakish ability.

He and his co-worker that day, Jennifer Cranston, had been sent to tend to some tasks in the back of NGA-2, while the alien's distinctive voice chatted with Joan's, the words themselves too faint to hear. Then there had been commotion, some lunatic's voice bellowing "What the hell are you doing here," Conway shouting, "No, Greg!" at least once, Tony yelling "Stand down!" at least once. He had come around the corner, to see Maya cornered, on her hands and knees, making an inhuman expression, disappearing into fuzzy light, and re-emerging a lioness. His reaction on reading the news now seemed like nothing compared to the flash of fear that went through him now. When Jennifer approached a second later, he had put his arm out to hold her back, and they had both stared at the bizarre scene, Cranston looking at him, fear and confusion in her eyes, obviously baffled where the creature had come from. "Maya," he had whispered.

It had cemented his opinion. He wanted as little as possible to do with the alien. Despite hearing and mostly believing that Sanderson's attack was unprovoked, Maya was even more dangerous. He had given his wife, a scientist his age, his opinion, and that he did not want the alien near her or their daughter.

"Oh come, on, George, she saved all of us, and I hear--"

"I hear she stared at one of the remaining pregnant women -- I'm not sure who -- for a disturbingly long time. You yourself said that Susan complained about Maya staring very intensely at George. Do you really want some strange being we scarcely know, who has some creepy reactions around children and pregnant women, and who literally becomes a dangerous beast when she gets angry, around our child? Honestly. Would you feel like Miranda would be completely safe?"

His wife's silence went on just a bit too long.

"There you go. I don't want Maya around Miranda, period."

His wife had looked ready to protest again, but his glare against her slight uncertainty had her backing down. He chose his battles carefully, and she usually recognized when he was not going to budge. She might try to argue again, but Miranda was his child too, and he always had some say, and in this case his say was going to hold sway.

The only problem was now he had run across the alien and the security officer, while he was carrying Miranda.

He avoided eye contact, hoping to avoid a meeting today and delay it until a day when he wasn't taking Miranda somewhere; but Tony stopped him, and insisted on introducing them.

George didn't have to pretend to feel in a hurry, and simply expressed it; but Tony insisted on prattling on about George's professional role, as if trying to make some small talk for the alien to participate in. George, meanwhile, watched Maya carefully. He could not help but notice she was very pointedly not looking at Miranda, and her half-smile seemed strained at best. That set him on edge. It seemed that if the alien wasn't staring inappropriately, she was fighting to avoid staring, which was almost as bad.

"Sorry, Mr. Verdeschi, Maya; but I am running late to work."

He tried not to look like he was hurrying off, even as he thought that now he had something more concrete to tell his wife and others on the topic of Maya's behavior.

It didn't help his mood that Miranda chose that moment to start crying.

Maya felt hollow. This man, who had the same first name as Susan's baby but was not related, had stared at Maya, very on edge. She had tried not to stare at the child or even look this time, until some sort of sign of permission appeared, but this man was clearly on edge about his child as Susan was about hers.

It was hard to deny that there seemed to be a pattern, partially of Maya's own fault. One pregnant woman, one Alphan mother, and one Alphan father, all not liking the single Psychon.

It left Maya feeling more empty. She had wanted to at least see an Alphan child, interact a little, not having seen a baby in so many years; but it seemed more likely no one would want to give her a chance. What had seemed almost a certainty, back when the Commander first mentioned there were children on Alpha, was now left a fading hope.

Maybe someone else would give her a chance soon, or maybe they would later relax a little, after some months -- though it could be more. She could understand there was a protective urge that might be exaggerating their reactions, but even so, the pattern seemed strong -- and it was painful.

A-362 DAB 0800-2300: Dreams of Babel(on)

Did all linguists, amateur or professional, dream at least once of the Tower of Babel?

Smitty wondered, but could not know. The only one on Alpha who knew more languages than him and Sandra was Maya, but she had no real linguistic history behind her knowledge, just raw data, however well organized in her mind. She didn't even know the names of most of the languages.

The whole language trader thing, with the Khorask, explained a lot, both the mysterious knowledge some aliens had, and the gaps some had.

Yet.... Why did viewing certain records bother him? Records of the Deltans and Bethans. They spoke English. Yet....

He had dreamt of the Tower of Babel again this morning, humans and aliens all wandering up and down its ziggurat-style staircases. It nagged at him all day, more and more viciously sinking its teeth into his precious free time, until he felt compelled to bother Clive Kander for some more records -- and to check out some more of the earlier ones again. That strange sense came back, an eerie feeling, not unlike deja vu though hardly the same. There was some sort of eerie sense of discontinuity in his mind.

Karen, his wife, gave him a disapproving look, and said, albeit gently, "I just manage to get you to not bring your primary work back with you on weekends, and have you spending time with your baby daughter, and now you bring your--"

"Hobby."

"Hmm, I know, but you've got this 'work' look about you."

"I... please, this one is just nagging at me. Actually, take a look. Just look closely."

He played short segments of some of the records he had checked out. There were classified ones that he did not have access to, but the non-classified ones were nonetheless a sample of all aliens -- well, the ones which had gotten recorded in this fashion. Yet it wasn't just when he was looking at the aliens that the disconnect sense kicked in. Seeing humans talking to aliens were kicking that in too.

"I think I'm going the hearing equivalent of bug-eyed. Actually, something looks odd when I...."

Smitty looked at her, and said, "I've heard others make such vague statements for awhile, dismissively. I virtually ignored them too, but something...."

"Well, the sound doesn't quite line up right."

"That's been a frequent complaint with a variety of records. The sound layers degrade and shift. That's endemic to the square format. The rounds are a newer technology that fixed that flaw."

"Still. It feels sort of like like deja vu, just the mind tricking itself. Yet different too."

He laughed. "Exactly; I had the same sensation, but why over this?"

"Clive probably gets a little tired staring at any sort of record too long. Like watching telly too long."

He laughed. "You're probably right. I have been staring too long."

A fussy cry sounded from the other room. Their baby daughter. "I'll take it this time," Smitty said.

He had been staring too long at aliens and humans talking. Just like thinking about one word for too long could sometimes start making it sound strange and wrong if one concentrated too hard. Maybe a little babbling at a baby -- his beautiful baby -- was just what the amateur linguist needed to get away from even his hobby.

Still, an hour later, even though he avoided the records, his thoughts slowly slunk back to his prior reasoning. Aliens talking English. Even Maya talking English, albeit with more gaps. Of course, she was stuck among humans and being exposed to more and more idiom as people started speaking more casually with her, he theorized, so more gaps were bound to show up. Yet from his own observations and small impressions gleaned from others in brief discussions, he gathered she had some problems with many synonyms in homonyms in English, and most idiomatic expressions had to be explained.

He already knew about her explanations of the Khorask and that many other races used translator circuits in their commsystems, using information purchased from the Khorask. Others used small, extremely advanced devices well hidden in an ear. Psychons just memorized whatever language arrays they had bought, which apparently included some but far from all Earth languages.

Still, why did he feel like he was missing something? He set the records aside and sought some sleep, thinking he'd rather dream of taking a tour, with his wife and daughter, of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. Green space on top of a building with a view overlooking the ancient city, as it might have been before it fell into ruins, all with nothing but open air above. It was an appealing flight of imagination of something lost millennia ago, mixed with an Alphan's yearning for open air.

Trouble was, as his conscious thoughts turned semi-conscious and then unconscious, he and his family got detoured as they walked towards Babylon, by aliens approaching, pulling them towards Babel, as the aliens babbled incomprehensible words to them, and Karen demanded translations of phrases Smitty did not understand.

He stirred long enough for that early dream to register in his consciousness, before Karen stirred, found him awake, and decided to snuggle next to him, finally distracting him from thoughts of ancient or alien languages.

S-363 DAB 1900-2100: Linguistic Pindrop

It had bothered Smitty to have awoken with yet another dream of Babel, especially after having tried to seed the idea of Babylon instead. Of course, dreams rarely came at beck and call.

That disconcerting feeling of disconnect, like but not like deja vu, still confronted him on the records. It was no longer like having thought of a single word to the point of very temporary disconnect from it. This feeling was only getting stronger now, the more he focussed anyway: it would seem to revert whenever he turned away for awhile. He took the material out of quarters to his usual workspace, saying it would just be for a little while longer. He wanted to clear it from his head with a bit more thought, and Karen seemed to understand better this time, just shooing him out, especially since the baby was sleeping peacefully. Maybe she just wanted a little peace and quiet of her own on a Sunday evening.

He wasn't getting any in his own mind regarding this mystery. Finally, he decided he just had to bother the next closest thing to a language expert landed on the base. He checked Maya's commlock code, and found it was on active standby. She was on duty, apparently. Psychon schedule, he realized, her weekend probably being a little offset from the usual Alphan one.

Smitty called her, and politely asked if she could stop by for awhile. She accepted and the comm soon ended. He then wondered if he was supposed to have called Security Officer Verdeschi instead, but when she soon showed up with a guard, whom she politely thanked, he realized she was free enough to make her own security arrangements, sometimes at least. He hoped even that much would not be necessary after awhile.

He tried to make some small talk, only to find Maya was as some others had indicated: not very adept at it. So he soon got to the point, or more accurately, a side point he wanted to check first, before getting to the main point.

"Let me ask again about those Associative Language Hyperarrays. You mentioned the associations are more of data-like compression opportunities, but if these things are being purchased, doesn't that make them a lot more expensive at 16 at a time?"

"I suppose. I only know a little bit about the bartering for such. Psychons did not purchase them all, but did purchase many. Even though language names are often lacking, samples are given. The potential buyer could match on phrases for language they may have interest in."

"Hmm, I'm no security officer; but that may allow the buyer some level of privacy on which language of the 16 in the array is of most interest."

"Yes, I think you are correct. That was something I heard more than once."

"Okay, that helps. Now to something a bit different. I finally realized I never asked to hear you speak Psychon itself, if that is okay."

"Oh, of course.... Eel beha tran wak'ay zyl."

"Hmmm."

"You sound..." she trailed off.

"Disappointed? No, not at all. Just that for a second, I thought you might end up saying English -- I mean that I might end up.... I don't know, I've had some rather deep puzzlement."

Maya stared at him, as if expecting more explanation. When none was forthcoming, she said, "I don't understand."

"Out of curiosity, what did you say?"

"It is very nice to be talking with you."

He smiled. "Thanks. Same here. Was there only one language on Psychon?"

"In modern times, yes. Actually, Modern Psychon evolved directly from Ancient Psychon, via a gradual process of compaction."

"What do you mean?"

"Ancient Psychon was very verbose, very... excessive... no...."

"Florid?"

"What?"

"Highly and rigorously formal and lengthy."

"Yes. The same phrase in Ancient would have probably been.... Eel bae ahaloky tra ean wak ay zyaloka. It is a deeply good occasion to converse in your company. Something more like that. Many ancient phrases were turned into contractions and then compacted to single words after awhile. Short phrases, or noun pairs, occasionally adjective pairs or adverb pairs. I mean, not whole sentences. That process still continues. Words that often tended to be used together with even a little more frequency, we tend to eventually start contracting, first among some people, then, if others seem to agree, more people. A word that is contracted may then start getting compacted in a similar process. Bae ahaloky into beha as a more extreme example of heavy compaction. It is sometimes more superficial compaction."

"Making the language more efficient, even if there are now more words to learn."

"Correct."

"Is that all a conscious drive?"

"I don't under... oh.... Well, more like habit instilled by the way the language is taught is perhaps a more accurate analysis."

"Hmm, English as a language started with one root but has been influenced by so many other languages, for historical reasons, over time, that its speakers do tend, unconsciously or socially or however you want to categorize it, borrow words from other languages or make new words out of roots from other languages."

"English? Which language is that?"

He was baffled, and then dumbfounded by the question for a moment, and briefly wondered if that was somehow a key to his puzzlement. "What we're speaking now."

"Oh, I've been thinking of it as Alphan."

He smiled. "I thought I... oh, maybe I didn't. I would have thought.... Well, maybe no one did. I guess no one told you."

There went the thought he was onto something. It was simply that no one had corrected her terminology.

He got to the topic of the recordings. He mentioned the feeling was sort of like that disconnected feeling of deja vu. She stated she had heard the term before, but did not understand it. He tried to explain, but got nowhere, and gave up, deciding if he didn't understand the phenomenon, how would he explain it to someone who apparently did not experience it at all?

She was giving him a baffled look, apparently finding human thought patterns a little alien, which would have been amusing since deja vu was so alienated from any understanding of it.

Deja vu was sometimes speculated to be a quirk of how short term memories were committed to long term memory. Maya was said not to have a completely photographic memory, yet could quickly absorb huge amounts of organized raw data. Maybe there were different kinds of quirks to the way her mind committed memories. He was not a psychologist or philosopher, though philology sometimes brought out bits of that anyway, in trying to understand, even at an amateur level, about linguistic evolution and how much it had to do with both society and the individual mind.

Now Maya was just staring at him with a rather charming expression of 'well, what do you want to talk about next?' He suddenly thought it was sad that so many Alpha parents didn't trust her. A few parents or mothers-to-be had called her creepy, that she stared or was cold towards their children. Other mothers and/or fathers had picked up on those statements -- as well as his own wife expressing an adamant desire that Maya not be near their baby. It was disconcerting, and looking at Maya now, he wanted to get her side of the story, thinking maybe it was just a misunderstanding. He did not know how to open up the topic, however, and somehow felt it was an inappropriate time, would probably solve nothing at this point, and maybe just pain the Psychon.

So finally he got around to just popping in a record. This one actually had one of the best recordings, of Dione speaking over a communications channel with Alpha. Then he showed her another record, and another. He must have mis-sorted them, for he then ended up putting in another of Dione.

That's when he noticed Maya's expression. It was different, like when he had bounced a number of languages at her. He paused, puzzled, but then proceeded to his question, remembering he was interacting with an alien, one that he couldn't always interpret well. "Okay, since you don't get deja vu, you probably don't get that sense of disconnection that I have. So tell me, what technology do you think is being used?"

"I'm not sure I understand the question. You.... You haven't met the Khorask? I'm still trying to track down.... Or is this a sublayer recording? I did not know your comms were layered. Sorry, that came out poorly; but I thought they were of a single layer. Can I view all the layers?"

Maya finally stopped, probably seeing the total bewilderment on his face. What was the Psychon even talking about? "Layers?" he finally asked, only because it was the most frequent word in her babble of sentences. She's suddenly turned into a Tower of Babel in English.

"Yes, the... oh, I tracked the first one down. Bethaen."

"Bethan... what...? They are Bethans. You know them?"

"No, but I know their language and even the name for it. I just don't understand how your commarrays obtained the Bethaen sublayer."

"Maya, I don't understand what you mean by any of this."

"You showed me the Bethaen layer of the communication -- though it seems extremely odd they would have transmitted a dual-translation'layer."

"Maya, they're speaking English."

"No, everyone's speaking Bethaen."

"You're hearing them speak Bethan?"

"Yes. And Alphans too."

"Dione's speaking Bethan and Alphan -- English -- at the same time? Do you hear some things encoded at dog-whistle frequencies or something?"

"Dog'whistle? I don't understand. My hearing is very similar. I do hear slightly into higher frequencies, but no more than a small percentage of your people do."

"Then what is it that you are hearing?" he said, growing more confused and impatient. "Please put it simply, because for some reason, I'm not understanding you."

"Your fellow Alphans and the Bethans are all speaking Bethaen to each other."

"I hear English," Smitty stated.

"I hear Bethaen. I do not -- what is the phrase? -- read lips, but as best as I can correlate, this alignment seems consistent with those words."

For a moment, that claim snapped him back to a true statement of fact, away from Maya's nonsensical claim. "Actually, the older square format, though much higher in storage capacity, does sometimes have a flaw that causes misalignment between visual and audio over time, in some squares. But... wait, I have that backwards."

Suddenly, it slammed into him -- but he fought back. He played the record again. He was hearing English, yet, while he was no lip reader either, the audio did not synch. Even now, he was trying to cling to an old bug while his mind stalled trying to absorb the new. He pushed away from the old, and let the full import of what Maya was start striking. "We -- Alphans -- are speaking Bethan."

"Positive."

"Yet I am hearing English."

Now Maya frowned. "You are?" It had not hit her fully yet.

"Yes."

"You know how to speak Bethaen but don't know you do, and still think it is Alphan English?"

"It is like something in my mind is somehow translating the words spoken, and my mind is trying to tell itself that the lip movements are okay or just the alignment bug, and...."

"No one ever tried re-aligning the sound and failing and realizing...."

"No, it was a puzzlement; but there was a known bug with the format, separate of any of this. These Mark V systems almost exclusively use the square format. Most of the round-format stuff has been recreational like music and.... I just don't believe this. How the hell have we been...?"

"Do you have ear'translators? Wait, you obviously don't."

He snorted. "No, and we all get regular enough scans that.... How large is the smallest translator circuit?"

"To have capacity for more than a few languages... detectable by Alphan medical scanners. At least what I have heard about."

"Damn, I have to... I have to tell. It's late, but I have to tell...." He pulled out his commlock. "Commander, I apologize for overriding the off duty flag, and this isn't truly an emergency, but it is something remarkable."

"What is it?"

"Ahhh, that is rather difficult to explain."

"Try."

"It seems we Alphans are capable of speaking some alien languages."

There was dead silence and a disbelieving look for several seconds, then.... "Okay, I'll be there in a few minutes."

"You may want to invite Dr. Russell."

An hour and several more invitees later, everyone was in silent contemplation.

"That sort of explains a lot," the Commander said. "I thought it was a stretch trying to explain everything via alien technology. Yet there have been some we don't understand. Maya even, when she speaks Psychon."

"Right, and while we were waiting, I asked her to speak a sampling of a few other alien languages she knew, and did not recognize them. Either we have to hear them from the native speakers themselves, or there are large gaps, like...."

"We somehow bought some sets from the Khorask...." Tony said, incredulously. "We've never met these Khorask, and never traded with them. Unless they're fond of giving free handouts and wiping memory."

Maya shook her head, saying, "That does not sound like the Khorask at all."

"Yet somehow we all know some alien languages and not others."

"A third party has tampered with us somehow," Tony said.

"'The great purpose of mutation,'" John said.

"Arra?" Tony said. "But we didn't meet her until after some other encounters."

"Unless those others already knew English as Maya does, via the Khorask, and just use technological methods of translation, or maybe telepathic contact like the Zennites -- perhaps even more subtle."

"I don't know," Tony said with a little exasperation. "You might as well say we got scrambled by something in the Black Sun for all that this sounds like."

Though offered in a sarcastic tone, it was greeted with thoughtful surprise. Tony himself seemed to get caught up in it.

"And back to Arra for a moment.... I assumed all her talk of mutation was about her side. Maybe the contact required some on our part."

"Or she gifted us with some," Helena suggested.

Yet as they discussed it more and showed Maya some more records, it turned out to be surprisingly difficult to sort things out. In some cases, such as with the Kaldorians, it was English spoken. "Tiny translater circuits in one ear and picking up on their thoughts perhaps," Maya was explaining -- "feeding Alphan words into one ear, and letting them speak words in Alphan. As well as filtering your words into their language, of course. It does not even require deep'implanting, though some races do it." She seemed to shiver a bit at the last.

"Are you sure someone didn't bug us, Helena?" Tony asked.

"Well, perhaps if someone had much more compact circuits than even Maya knows about, perhaps. I cannot rule that out."

"I cannot rule out further technological compaction, even if I am not aware of it," Maya added.

"Regardless of method, there still remains the mystery gifting of knowledge," Sandra said.

All Alphans present at the time of the Black Sun felt there was some partial disconnect in their memories regarding that occasion. All Alphans present at the time of the Atheria Collision could have been exposed to some intentional 'mutation' -- metaphoric or semi-literal -- as a gift. Those seemed like the two most obvious possibilities, but despite pouring over ideas, they could not eliminate or verify either one, because of other factors.

They were left with mysteries. Who had done it? Why? Why some languages and not others? Maya offered that according to scientific principal, there might be some completely different factor no one was currently considering as well.

"Such as you lying and us still having the square record AV misalignment?" Tony asked with a half smile.

For once, Maya did not react as if being subject to suspicion, either picking up on Tony's tone or being in scientist 'mode'. "From your perspective, that could explain it. I assure you that I am not lying, but it would be understandable if you feel you need to consider it -- and even if you believe me, the principle of skepticism displayed is good scientific process."

"It does seem we have been given some sort of mysterious gift by someone," the Commander said as if he had no doubt of Maya but was still couching his phrasing for scientific reasons.

"Do we tell anyone this?"

"No. Maybe. Yes. Besides being good to know in general, it does show a further sign of some things positive that have happened to us."

"Well, maybe," Verdeschi said. "But it can still be construed as being meddled with." It was hard to tell if the Security Officer felt that himself or just felt it was his duty to mention others' possible reactions.

"Maybe. But we have to learn to accept some of these strange things."

"Why would the gift giver -- assuming this is a gift and doesn't turn out to be some sort of curse in some ways -- be so secretive about it?"

"What, something is supposed to pop up in our minds and just say, 'Update complete. View the info file for details'?"

"Sure, why not?"

"And how often have aliens acted with that much clarity?" John asked.

"Well, not often, present company excluded."

If it had been any other time, someone might have noticed a greater expression of trust -- perhaps more unconscious than conscious still -- of Tony regarding Maya, but they soon jumped back to whether/how to bring this up outside the present discussion group.

Strangely, they were soon all agreeing this would be readily accepted by most Alphans.

"Somehow, we weren't questioning this linguistic thing all that much," Helena observed, "Like we were trusting there was little reason to think about it except in the occasional cases of lingo."

"Trusting," Alan said, looking at John. "Like you and I were of Arra."

"Now that seems more like Arra," Tony said. "Instill a sense of calm over something that should have had us thinking more."

"Then why would it click now?"

"Our amateur linguist cornered the situation via Maya. No perfect defense, perhaps."

"Or maybe it was a puzzle for us to solve at any point," Smitty said, "and I just ran Maya and us headlong into it because I kept thinking about it."

The discussion continued a little longer, but it was clear something had happened in their journey that had left them with knowledge they had not started out with, and no one knew why, whom, how, when, or where.

That seemed par for the course, but one of the rare marks in the beneficial column.

T-365 DAB 1020-1050: Of Fate and Fatalism

John was back in the small meeting room, alone, staring at Maya's fairly clear diagram and recited semi-cryptic poems on the whiteboard. Photos had been taken of the board, for computer records and portable reference sheets. There had been discussions, not attended by Maya, to try to tease out more meaning in other groups. Still, John found he liked to see the situation at its "full size" on the board, and being able to more directly associate her drawing it with the discussions which had followed, was helpful. He was grasping for nuances he might have forgotten since.

It was the diagram which had been more ignored than the poems, in some ways. There were many different lines, but only the central one to focus on, of their actual projected course. Still, it was the dashed one -- the only dashed one -- on the left that kept drawing his attention today. It came out of the dense chicken tracks around her symbol for Psychon, and he did not really grasp the reason for its divergence. It headed towards a curious hash of swirling marks Maya had drawn at the left -- trailing -- end of the Alkinarda Complex. The dashed line was unmarked, and it bothered him that he could not recall Maya's explanation for it. He walked up to it, but that did nothing for his recall. Finally, he realized she had probably not offered a reason for drawing it, and no one had asked, perhaps thinking at the time it was another essentially-irrelevant line.

Still, she must have drawn it for some reason.

He walked the few meters over to a commpanel, contacted Maya directly. She was with Tony in another technical session.

"Please report to the meeting room. I have a question for you."

"Yes, Commander, I... we will."

After breaking the connection, he stared at the diagram, started getting a vague idea what it might represent, and decided to talk to Maya alone, instead of with Tony.

A few minutes later, Maya was looking at him with an inquisitive expression, the same one Tony reported was charming quite a few people. Whether intended that way or not, at any level, it seemed to be having the effect of visibly showing that she simply did not know everything -- and was willing to show it visibly. Since it had spread like wildfire that she did have some considerable mental talents, her inquisitive expression had the effect of giving some counterbalance to what could otherwise be an intimidating aspect of Maya.

"Maya, when you drew this diagram, I don't remember you explaining, or anyone asking, about this dashed line leading to this... swirl part. Was is all of that about?"

She closed her eyes and looked down, her mouth tightening, her face taking on an expression of shame.

She opened her eyes again, but did not look at him rather the line on the board. "I meant to explain this, but you didn't want excess detail at the time, and I really did not know how to explain it without getting into detail of our first meeting on Psychon."

The lioness, he thought ruefully, then he started thinking a little, only to be cut off by Maya's explanation.

"If I had listened to you when we first met.... I had seen the pattern before, and saw only hostile aliens, over and over. If only I had questioned it with you, since I thought you would be different. That is why I asked why you were so hostile." She was speaking quietly, and wandered over to a chair to sit down, the topic obviously painful, which was no surprise.

She said nothing further for awhile, so he finally prodded, as gently as he could. "What does this have to do with this line?" he asked, even though he had a stronger suspicion of what.

"If I had found it within myself to listen rather than cut you off when we first met.... If I had investigated at that time.... If I let you out soon after...."

The next step was obvious, but she obviously did not want to say it, so he did. "If Psychon had exploded earlier, its mass and gravity dispersed sooner...."

"The Moon would have taken this path, eventually being many light years further... left, towards the Alk^inharda... what would you call a rough, turbulent section of a river?"

"Rapids."

"You would have gone towards the Alk^inharda Rapids."

"You say that as if it would have been a good thing, when you sought out a rather nasty term."

"You just reminded me...." She stood up and walked over to the board, picked up a marker, and finding one of the few remaining gaps on the large board, added another poem.

"For whatever reason, it is one of the least cryptic passages. It is said that the Star'movers found a way to create it from the chaos of the Alk^inharda, and used it to make their escape from the others. Then again, many things are said about the disappearance of the Star'movers. It does not emerge somewhere just on the other side of the Alk^inharda Complex, but in some 'random' spot elsewhere in the galaxy, differing each time. Now, people in flight for their lives, or simply seeking some random space for colonization, have been using it ever since."

"And what happens to them?"

"Most are never heard from again, but a few were found later. Commander, if I had done something earlier, this would have been the better option than uncertain puzzles of Bridge'world, and certainly far, far better than facing the ruinous Alk^inharda."

On the last, it seemed to John like she had a 'these Alphans must be almost as mad as Mentor' sound to her on this subject -- yet was not really arguing the point at the moment. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing....

"It is not your fault," he stated.

"But it is. All those people died, were enslaved, destroyed, turned into living husks, and I could not see the truth that was almost right in front of me."

"Maya, I do not blame you, and even if someone said there had to be blame, I could blame myself for not pushing harder immediately."

"Commander, I cut you off."

"But I accepted your cut off, to find out what Mentor wanted."

Maya said nothing for several moments, then.... "There were some... cat-like beings, whose name I never found out, which I met years prior to you, before I was transforming. One tried to fling itself at me when the force'field had failed due a slight error which existed in Psyche's programming at the time. The alien had gotten stuck in the force'field when it automatically recycled, and was held there for long moments, then flung backward. I was so relieved, thinking it was in the middle and could have been flung right at me, or been cut in half in front of my eyes."

John said nothing, recognizing this was something she was trying to work out in her mind.

"They had been so angry and terrified. Yet I was so scared by the attack, and my father's comforting words soothed me, that I never thought much more than that they were just hostile, like so many of the others. If I had questioned--"

"You must have done so a little, because when I did push you...."

"Yes, I suppose I always had a slight doubt. I kept asking about whether aliens had agreed to... donate a small part of themselves to Psyche. I never thought about why I was asking, I just always did."

"Then maybe I should have pushed you harder at the start."

She shook her head, making eye contact for a second, and saying, "It wouldn't have worked. I had assumptions and assurances, and you were reacting as every other race had, that I assumed -- and was always told -- was from the physical distress from the transference energy'spheres. Mentor told me they were to safely transport aliens across the radioactive pits, but rendered them unconscious and in need of recovery. Aliens always seemed hostile to me at that point. It was after my father told me you had come to see the... 'benefits' of bringing your people to Psychon, then witnessed your robot Eagle, that I really could not understand, and was so furious about."

John did not have to say more. That is what had allowed him to have a chance to reach her.

"So it is not your fault, Commander, it is mine, for not questioning more and helping you earlier, that cost your people more lives, and may cost everyone ahead."

"Maya, it is not your fault. I can't blame you for what you did. Not at all. We will simply deal with the results of the timing. We are not fatalists, on either extreme."

"Fatalists?"

"We neither just simply accept whatever fate hands us, nor react with utterly petulant violence if something happens nonetheless. Meaning what happened on Psychon happened, and I find no fault in what you did for us. That the timing leaves us heading away from the Rapids is just something we will deal with."

She shook her head, opened her mouth, closed it, then looked away, as if debating whether to say anything -- whether this was a topic on which she felt she had to assert herself.

"Commander, you -- and the others -- have been giving me contradictory information, then."

"On what?" he snapped out a bit, though not sure why. Maybe surviving the Black Sun with Victor for company and... he still struggled with the feeling something more had happened... had made him defensive against this Psychon coming in and trying to rewrite the universe. Then he thought how unfair it was to think that was her purpose.

She seemed to recoil a little, but for one of the few times in three weeks, she fought back a little.

"You say you are not a fatalistic people, yet seem to be willing to take a leap of faith into the abyss, without even making an attempt to avoid it."

"But we are going to attempt to find the secrets of the Kaskalon riddles."

"I am sorry, Commander, but I must say half-heartedly then, for you--"

"As I said, we have encountered such phenomenon before, and survived it with our shields and what most of us believe was something else."

"Commander, I cannot stress enough how different the Alk^inharda is compared to a black hole sun. It is an tear, a deep abyss across much of space."

"How do you know it is an abyss? The Black Sun should have been."

"Internally non-spinning black holes are a simple singularity, result certain after entering the event horizon as your people call it: complete crushing to the singularity. Even if the physics from the event horizon to the singularity are unknown, everything must be delivered to the singularity and crushed to singularity. Internally-spinning black holes do not guarantee that result, though it is still the most likely, and the mystery of the physics have left dozens of races with plenty of... room for a lot of speculation, though the assumption was generally total destruction anyway. The Alk^inharda is neither. It is not a singularity, rotating or otherwise. It is rip across a huge span of space, an abyss held in check by the Shepherd stars. How do you know your -- our -- shields and however else you survived would help against the radically different nature of the Alk^inharda, or stop you from being cooked by the Shepherds, large, intensely radiative blue giants?"

"Maya..."

"Commander, I don't know what else to say. I hope you are correct. You seem a people full of hope that I find hard to comprehend considering everything you seem to have gone through. Psychons fight hard, to the end, as well, so maybe that is no surprise. And you are correct that I did not experience whatever you did with the Black Sun. So maybe you grasp, at some level, something I do not, or cannot. I can only tell you that I think it is... suicide. I will accept whatever decision you make now or after exploring Bridge'world, for I am under your protection and you have experienced things I have no comprehension of; but I will not do it with any confidence of my own."

"Yet you do not know if we can crack the riddles of the Alkinarda Bridge in the limited time we will have."

She abruptly gave a wan half-smile, and said, "No, I am not happy with either option, but at least assuming the worst of the Alk^inharda and fighting as hard as possible to find the answer on Bridge'world seems.... I am sorry, Commander, but I am repeating myself now."

"I will consider your words," he finally said.

[End of second part]