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.

That was all well before our over fifteen thousand years of history. [....]
However, a millennium into the second calendar, as we began interstellar
exploration, we heard of more legends about a fearsome war of bizarrely-
named races and highly metaphorical descriptions. Those legends say they
were responsible for the 'flower' the others called by a long, impactful
name we adopted and compacted to Alk^inharda -- a word ironically adapted
by some of the same neighbors from whom we obtained the legends. Even
more central than the legends were a set of diverse poems, none named, about
one world, near the Alk^inharda, the former home of one of those ancient
races. Just as those legends and poems seemed to come from diverse races,
passed around over time, we were able to add our own unique one, and given
that we are the only ones that had that legend, and the dearth of planetary
systems towards the Alk^inharda -- Psychon the closest -- it seems we might
not have been just the nearest witnesses, but the closest survivors. Perhaps
that explains our avoidance of the area more proximate than Half'star. [....]

[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, after a cautious pause.

"I have to thank you," Douglas said to Maya as they walked down the halls, a guard with them.

"For what?"

"For not saying your people called that nebula Big Blue."

"I... am not sure I understand."

"We don't have much reason to give everything interesting names, rather than catalogue numbers, since we don't linger long in most places; but we knew we'd be near that nebula and it was already getting rather large ahead of us, so someone dubbed it Big Blue as a provisional name, and most of us don't like it."

"Oh. I doubt its true name is any more pleasant."

"Somehow, Alkinarda and the meaning behind it puts a much better light on it than the rather silly-sounding Big Blue."

"I understand now," she said, just as they arrived at a door, past which was a room full of piles of paper.

"Sorry, don't exactly have a lot of time to file a year's worth of observations. Maybe someday I can assemble the Uranometria Galactiae or something," Douglas said with a laugh for no reason Maya could discern.

They settled in to share information on Alphan systems of cataloging and measuring astronomical phenomena. She discovered information on what they called standard candles had been lost during Breakaway, and that they had essentially no idea of where their former planet was located. Other than mentioning the last, he did not elaborate, probably not wanting to talk about that any more than she wanted to think about Psychon right now.

She learned their stellar and planetary classification systems, as well as orbital elements. On some facts, they made arbitrary ranges with letter labels. When she questioned why they did this instead of listing precise measurements, Douglas seemed irritated, perhaps. She wasn't sure.

He then took her to a small side room, a telescope'terminal he called it, and showing her an image of the Alk^inharda complex.

They discussed it, more words on spatial navigation, and Maya eventually was able to convert her understanding of the Halfstar and Redsun systems into Alphan terminology.

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?

There was talk about how Verdeschi didn't seem to trust her, but Giles said little about Security matters, even if he clearly was nervous about her. Carter seemed too willing to accept her, the pilots thought. At one point, Cernik indicated he believed Koenig's words that Maya did intervene against her father. Sanderson didn't seem to doubt that so much as her reaction to her father and world dying, and whether any alien could really be trusted to have Alpha's best interests in mind.

There were nods on this. There was general knowledge most Alphans had little if any trust regarding the Psychon on this count. Unfortunately, too many of them were in the 'wait and see' mode, rather than the more realistic mode of distrust. If Alphans had been keeping score, after all -- and some were -- the tallies of friendly vs. disinterest vs. hostile aliens had little in the first column, and far more in the latter two columns. Arrogant aliens seemed to be the rule, some thought. This alien, despite her nervous and meek early demeanor, might have more to hide, despite events on Psychon.

Yet it was events on Psychon, and the seeming nature of Maya herself, that left Alpha with a wide swath of reactions to her, even if not all that evident in this small group.

Feeling buoyed by support in this small group, Sanderson eventually proceeded to descend into rants that in the end did little more than leave everyone else in more of a foul mood. Though more gruff than most people were about rants, he was generally far more bark than bite -- but his bark was rather intense indeed.

His mind lingered on poor Jane's funeral, tomorrow. Greg's intensity both attracted and drove away many women, but Jane had seen that he really didn't mean much about it, most of the time anyway, and she knew how to handle the times when he did mean it a little more.

After the group dispersed, he ran into Joan in the hall, up for a late shift, after having worked on getting one of Maya's uniform changed to brown-sleeve, for her role in Technical Section, she said.

He sighed, irritated. He just couldn't get away from the topic of Maya. The trouble was, Joan was more stubbornly accepting of Maya, even her new role. "It makes sense to me," she said at one point.

She wasn't the right person to talk with, at least about the alien. Most others at least had misgivings. Joan had none, and he had trouble understanding how such an intelligent woman could be so blind. Hadn't all the alien encounters taught every Alphan? The conversation turned unpleasant for a brief time, until someone else walked by and they mutually broke off the discussion.

A-348 DAB 0000-0400: Lacing Bug

Sandra thought it worked out well that both she and Maya again had time during Alpha's third shift to discuss a few more emergency procedures, then move on to some computer basics.

Sandra found a small terminal room in a more outer residential section of the main part of the base. It had been one of those used before Kano had brought the full Alpha Information System to every living quarters, yet was still used if they happened to be handy for whatever reason, or when a small group of people clustered to look over the board for some information of common interest -- or to have a few laughs, or if someone's own terminal was malfunctioning. Now, it was handy for training.

Sandra retrieved the set of overlays stored in a drawer here too, but was taken aback a little when Maya said she had "... memorized them as a three-dimensional grid." Plus, this and some other steps had already gotten Maya to the point of being a touch typist. A somewhat slow one, but one nonetheless.

She could even type via Dvorak key arrangement, albeit slower, saying, "I practiced only the alphabetical one a little last night, as you ordered. Is the alphabetical one preferred for some reason?"

"Alphabetical?"

Maya, despite grasping the language, mostly, seemed to be assuming Qwerty represented an alphabetical layout, and Sandra found herself in the surprise position of having to teach an intelligent alien the English alphabet -- or at least its proper order.

"We should have you talk to someone whose hobby is linguistics," Sandra commented, though knowing it would probably be awhile, since the main focus was to be technical and Maya didn't seem to be hindered much by her other linguistic gaps.

Sandra found Maya had explored the system some, so she asked, "So did you understand the Flowering Plant Rule? I know my explanation was a little brief."

"Flowering Plant Rule? I do not recall such a conversation."

"It wasn't a conversation. Have you checked the Electronic Posts?"

"Am I to help increase the defense status of the base?"

Sandra paused, then said, "What?"

"I do know about force fields, but your electronic implementation is unfamiliar to me."

For a moment, Sandra was annoyed at the bewildering change of topic. "Maya, I was asking about the Flowering Plant Rule."

"I do not understand."

Finally, Sandra realized where the conversation probably had went awry. "You have not checked the Electronic Posts section of your account."

"I did not want to pry into the defensive status of your base."

After another question, Sandra found Maya had made a curious assumption and extrapolation about the word post. She briefly explained, and Maya seemed quite excited, saying, "That number has been climbing, to 14 now."

Sandra explained Electronic Posts could be used for both professional and personal reasons. She also explained some of the basic common sense rules, then added: "If you see anything that concerns you for any reason, please talk to Tony or me."

After more discussion on other related topics, Sandra found the Psychon had discovered the "Light Side" section and had found it completely mystifying, but had correctly determined its basic purpose.

"I think I understand the numerical pattern now," Maya added.

"What numerical pattern?" Sandra asked.

Maya described a clear recognition of heavy pre-Breakaway traffic, absent traffic for months after Breakaway, and a slow climb since then, still significantly lower than pre-Breakaway.

Sandra silently mused that it was still lower, even though the full AIS, including Light Side, was now available in all living quarters. It was a sign of returning community, yet with less improvement than the Living Quarters Locking Index had shown. The Light Side posting rate was also tracked on the Daily Statistical Summary Report, and the differences had come up in a meeting once before Paul's death, and Helena had passed on an open observation by Bob that it seemed people were finding more solace in personal company than such postings, yet the latter did serve as another aspect of community whose return was still welcome. Setting up everyone's quarters with the full AIS had merely increased convenience more than usage, it seemed.

After that, the discussion got more interesting. Already, there was permission for Sandra to start showing Maya some computer functions relating to the current form of the Science Advisor role, so Sandra took her to a science station, elsewhere, and proceeded to start showing her some basic functions, over the next couple of hours.

The most curious point came in the middle of that, when the terminal went haywire due to the hyper-interlacing bug. Maya's strange response made Sandra jump, as the Psychon excitedly said: "Oh, how wonderful!"

"What?" Sandra asked, bewildered. Multiple streams of data were being flashed up, each page only appearing for a moment, replaced by something else, then by the first, then by the second, a third, the second, third, fourth, third, fourth.... It was a system flaw that appeared randomly, from time to time, during otherwise normal operations -- but which some alien forces, such as the Space Brain, had also found a way to trigger, by intent or accident.

"You can read this?"

"Oh, yes, this is perfect! How do I access this viewing mode?"

Sandra shook her head. "Maya, it is a bug."

"Is that another insect word'sound reuse?"

"Pardon me?"

"Alan referred to on-Eagle'ship food as grub. I thought he was referring to larval insects."

"Oh," Sandra said with an unconscious smile. "That sounds like Alan. I think someone told me the word 'bug' was first used for a computer malfunction when an insect got into a computer and caused an electrical malfunction."

"Oh, historical metaphor. If you find what is causing it, would there be a way to set it up on my terminal even while eliminating it from others?"

"We will have to isolate it first, before we know what we can do about it." She then continued the computer conversations. It became apparent there were signs of strong computer affinity in Maya. She resolved to have Maya meet June to talk further.

Sandra had already been told Maya had awoken a couple hours early, and had spent some time in a surprise meeting whose contents Sandra did not know yet, then a fairly long, equally unplanned discussion with Astrophysicist McLeod. Perhaps Maya knew something about the distant but huge blue nebula growing in front of them. She did not ask Maya, instead noticing Maya seemed fatigued and distracted, and responded eagerly to the idea of lunch, so much so that Sandra asked and found out Maya had skipped breakfast without so much as a word to anyone.

"You should say something; it is not wise to skip meals." Sandra did not say that she had sometimes found herself doing that after she lost Paul. This time, Sandra, Maya, and the guard went to the all-night cafeteria, which had only two other people eating at this time. The two women simply went through the line, then sat down, while the guard kept an eye out. Conversation centered simply on follow-up points to the discussion of the prior hours.

After that, and back at Maya's quarters, it struck Sandra that Maya's security situation would not permit her to do her own laundry down the hallway for awhile.

One of the ILC detail departments had set up a complicated yet elegant system for one of the more basic activities: laundry. Alpha had a Main Laundry, yet had Laundry Rooms scattered about residential blocks as well. Uniforms were always washed by the Laundry Department, unless an individual had a strong preference to do it him- or herself. Some items of clothing were always the person's own duty. Other off-duty outer clothing were on a "points" system, where people could sometimes choose to send it on for others to clean, and sometimes had to do it themselves. Some always chose the latter, and could transfer their points to another person.

The Laundry Department fell under the Service Section, and Sandra knew the reasons for this system. It was a way of reducing the amount of time most personnel, dedicated to other duties, had to spend doing laundry, yet balanced against keeping some responsibility in individuals' hands, and not needing to have a larger Laundry Department. It also kept some privacy and choice in individuals' hands. Meanwhile, Laundry was also tasked with keeping in contact with the Chemical Manufacturing department of Technical to take delivery of laundry soap, and to distribute some of it to the various Laundry Rooms.

Sometimes, this whole system struck Sandra as needlessly complicated, but more often as simple brilliance, striking various balances all at once.

Officers did get one benefit under this system: more "points" so they could spend even less time on laundry, if they so chose. Sandra had long chosen to give away those "extra" officer's points each month, to whomever seemed most in need of a little more rest time -- including Paul on two occasions.

Maya, however, was a complicated situation. Having to post a guard to shuttle her back and forth to a Laundry Room for the foreseeable future seemed an awkward and inefficient pattern, so Sandra worked out a slightly different temporary arrangement, and brought Maya some laundry soap to use right here.

Sandra then asked if Janina had contacted Maya regarding the sleeve color change to her uniforms. The latter indicated she had already picked up one uniform to change. Maya was curious about the color system. "I have noticed guards have purple, though Tony has red. Lots of others have red but are not officers. Medical people have white. Alan Pilot has orange but Bill has red. The Commander has black. You have yellow. So does Annette. I have neutral color. Others have brown, including me soon. I see some patterns but some are unclear to me."

"There is an established system based on Section, but it is complicated for some dual-role personnel, and has gotten more complicated with even more people in dual, rotating, or changing roles since Breakaway. I think we had better wait on that topic."

Almost as soon as the door closed between Maya and Sandra, the Psychon immediately logged into the Alpha Information System, eager to check out the 14 (or maybe more now) Electronic Posts she had. It was so simple. If she had only checked the section....

Electronic Posts :IN folder: 14 unopn 14 total 1. Sunday Breakfast :KoenJ: 348:00[un HI] 2. Discussion Sessions:KoenJ: 347:23[unopn] 3. Congratulations :ConwJ: 347:13[unopn] 4. Welcome :MathB: 347:06[unopn] 5. Sorry :MartS: 346:10[unopn] 6. Flowering Plants :BeneS: 346:09[unopn] 7. Thank You :CartA: 345:21[unopn] 8. Welcome to Alpha :KoenJ: 345:19[unopn] 9. Good to Meet You :ConwJ: 345:17[unopn] 0. Welcome :FrasB: 345:17[unopn] Φ options (-DAB sort, no fltr, no sent) ξ move to folder Ξ view folders

She smiled, surprised that she was receiving personal electronic messages like this. The column in the middle she quickly realized was a fusion of four letters of second'name plus one letter of first'name. She realized she'd probably appear as :Maya : on other systems. She decided should read Sandra's note first, since she had mentioned it. It was slow to appear, and took a couple screens to read it, but Maya eventually read it in whole:

Maya,

The plants are yours now. We each receive an allocation of plants, every few months. You will as well. The two plants in your room are from Janina and me, as gifts.

However, there is a Flowering Plant Rule (FPR). When a plant has produced new, open flowers, it must be brought, a few days later (or sooner, if there is a label which states this) to Botany, for evaluation for potential pollination, after which it will be returned back to you either immediately or shortly afterwards. This has already been done for the one flower you see on the plant I gave. The larger cluster looks like it will be blooming maybe a week from now, and once that happens, you can enjoy them for a few days before action is required on the FPR.

This is all due to the number of each species not being that large, that most must remain part of a pollination program. The same is true if or when the plant bears fruit. Some fruit can be kept for consumption by the individual, if it is edible; but this is up to Botany and others. The intent is not to give gifts with lots of conditions attached, but to have a chance for the individual to enjoy some plants about the base even if there are some inconveniences attached to it.

Some plants do not live long. You may keep the vase when that happens, if you wish, reuse it, or put it with recyclables. Manufacturing is capable of producing and recycling glassware. More details on all of this will be presented over time; or if you have more immediate questions, please just ask.

Sandra

A brief pang crossed Maya's mind as she realized just how precarious life seemed to be here -- a still-familiar pattern. Great care was being taken here to preserve and further life, across generations. She wondered, with another pang, what her long-term future would be. Only one Psychon? If she remained here the rest of her life, would anyone take interest in her? Was she genetically compatible? She pushed aside the thoughts. It was too early. She re-read the note and smiled; at least she was being made a part of their community, at least by a few individuals, and this warmed her heart.

Every view'page offered an option to respond, and at the end, Maya did so, stating in part: "Thank you for the data, and for the wonderful gift. I am grateful to have some plants, and that you and Janina and others have been so thoughtful to give me such. I understand the FPR to the detail presented. When the time comes, I will ask you or someone about how to get the plant to Botany."

She was most certainly going to keep the vases too, as a memory of these early gestures of kindness.

She smiled happily as began reading and replying to the other posts.

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.

Earlier, Alan had stopped at her quarters after her nap. She had almost asked about a guard when she noticed he had an Alphan weapon on his belt. She had the impression not everyone was authorized to have one, which Maya was thankful for. She trusted Alan, so she had no concern.

He had brought her for additional training, and now was putting some of what they had described to use. She had checked suit systems, donned it, with a pause in the middle over the way she tried to attach a glove ("If you have to force it, you're either doing it wrong or there is a problem"), made some more checks, been checked by Alan, who had caught a minor issue, and had gotten to step out onto the Moon -- her first more direct contact with the surface of the planetoid.

She nearly tripped a few times, and received some reminders and corrections, but loved the sensation of 0.1624 Psychon gravity and just bouncing about. She had been to Renone, Psychon's moon, so the sensations were not unfamiliar, but were more exaggerated here, with the moderately lower gravity than Renone. The dust would kick up and do simple arcs back to the ground. Unlike Renone, this former satellite had no atmosphere.

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.

After another uncomfortable pause, she added another minor thought that occurred to her about the damage, after which the Commander said: "I'll convey it to Alexander. 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."

John had not liked spoiling whatever enjoyment Maya might have gotten from her first spacewalk by then having her brought her to the site of the damage, but it had already been days, and it was time to get damage estimates completed so repairs could begin in earnest.

Despite Maya accepting John's apology over Karedepoulos, he still fumed a little. Maya had accepted his apology over one of his people, where Alexander had offered none. He'd have to have a talk with Karedepoulos later, about that and to clarify action on looking for more repairs.

However, it was time for another difficult topic.

He brought Maya to his office. It was a far cry from the one attached to Main Mission, and this one was some doors down from Command Center, but it filled the purpose well enough, just not as well as before.

While he and Maya walked the halls, he called Helena in, and she called the others, namely Bob and also the Chaplain.

This introduction took a little longer. What she had in the way of religious beliefs overall, she did not offer, and no one pried. She seemed surprised at the idea of multiple religions on one planet, though he was not sure. No one got into history.

Finally, they got to the main topic, and Maya seemed quite surprised that they were offering her a small funeral for Mentor.

"Why would you want to do that for someone who... killed your people?"

"Because," Helena said, "he raised a woman of considerable courage and character, and we recognize that he meant something else completely to you."

"We want to offer you the chance to recall the father you knew before us, not who we knew," the Chaplain added after Maya said nothing.

She looked at them incredulously, then said, "If I need to do that, I can do that in my room."

This did not sound cultural; it sounded evasive. Helena immediately countered a little more insistently. "You should do it; and it should be somewhere else, not where you are going to live and sleep every day."

"How can I not think of it there too?" she said, her voice rising.

"You will," Helena said. "That is always the case; but a funeral is a more significant remembrance. It is not something to be done in your room."

When the topic had came up earlier, John, though no psychologist, could easily see the point of Helena's speculation that the young woman was probably busily suppressing a lot about her father, rather than starting to deal with it, and Psychon or not, he had seen enough of her nature so far to realize Helena's concern, that it could be just as bad in her as anyone else.

John had asked if Helena and Bob were sure about this, that she was alien, and might have different protocols or psychology regarding this.

"And if she protests for reasons other than that, and we just give in and not provide for a possible need to help her start dealing with it?" Helena had said.

"If she takes insult at our alien attempts to meddle," Bob had stated, "that might be one thing; but if she resists on more recognizable grounds, I think we need to push, or we'll have failed to help her in one way."

Now, Maya resisted for awhile, but even John could tell she was not taking insult at aliens meddling; and the more she argued, the more it convinced John became that the others were right.

"Is there nothing of your father you want to remember?" the Chaplain asked gently. "Nothing worth remembering?"

Finally, she sighed, and her resistance seemed to fade with it. She quietly said, "I always thought he was a good father. I don't understand what happened, but I didn't know it until the end. I tried to save him, but it all happened so quickly. So much was lost." She looked up then, and quietly said, "But I should probably save such words until then. It... should have probably happened already... the funeral. A small, separate room would be good. Please, can it be soon?"

"Tomorrow afternoon, say 15:00 Lunar Time?"

"That would be good."

"Is there anything you wish me to say, or for me to speak?" the Chaplain asked.

"Have a stranger say words at a funeral when he has an adult survivor?" she said with quiet bewilderment. "I am sorry. I did not mean for it to sound like that." The chaplain gently brushed aside the concern, and Maya continued. "It is simply that the responsibility and privilege of one of the closest family members to speak. There would be a Guide familiar with protocol, but I shall have to pattern it from what I remember, myself."

"Anything else?"

What she requested, though far from bizarre, was definitely a little different, but easily granted.

"May I have week'end'time before then to... think?"

"Of course, granted. I'll call Tony. He said something about a lunch item you had requested."

"I do not understand. Oh, maybe he meant lasagna."

"Lasagna?"

"He described it as much better than hospital'food, I expressed interest, and he indicated he would seek the next source time and locale for the food."

"Good."

He dismissed the group then, everyone filtering out except Helena.

"Seems you were right to push a little," he told her.

"She doesn't want to talk to anyone yet, and outright didn't understand the offer to talk to a psychologist. Bob is used to resistance -- though I think hers is cultural and probably permanent. She protested 'but he's a stranger' when I tried. Maybe their support circles ran deep when there were more of them together."

"What are you saying? That maybe she's just one more likely to confide in friends after trust gets deep enough?"

"Bob and I talked about that, or the possibility that they just deal with it in some completely different way. It is on the former possibility that I even bring this up. If she starts talking to you, just focus on listening. Don't try to argue away her feelings or trivialize her reasons, unless you know she's really very wrong about something. I thought you handled her apology back on the Eagle, over calling you a liar, very well. It was something she needed to say, you seemed to recognize it quickly enough to change your course and just accept what she was saying. That was astute. She's fairly quick to grasp onto anything resembling friendship or support, even if she does not fully recognize it, and you were at the center of what turned her life completely upside down, and gave her support soon after, right on the Eagle."

"Well," he had to admit, "right in the chamber of Psyche, actually." He described the final events there, and his briefly holding her shoulder until they both had to flee.

Helena soon said, "For all that you can have a temper sometimes, you can really be a gentle man." She walked over and gave him a kiss. She leaned against his desk, and said, "So how are you holding up?"

She was clearly referring to the whole topic of loss. "I've had to do this before," he said.

"That wasn't my question."

"What do you want me to say?" he said quietly, not with anger. "Four people, Helena. That's forty-six now, since the moment Area Two started going up. I hate counting it like that, but I'd hate to forget to count someone."

He talked sometimes about the pain of losing people, and did a little more now. He rarely opened up much on this topic. This time, the focus was slightly more broad. "It was difficult enough to lose individuals," he started at one point, "but to think of the numbers too, and realize that at the simple numerical rate of 46 in less than a year, it would only be six more years before the original Alphans were all dead. I can berate myself on some individual situations, but as much as we may be learning, we need a change of... I don't know... luck? Fortune? Blessings?"

"Anyone else, John, and those losses would have likely been much higher, or total. You have seen us through dangers that would have paralyzed lesser men."

It ironically felt like echoes of telling Maya it wasn't her fault what had happened to Alphans on Psychon, that it wasn't John's fault what happened to Alphans in space. He wasn't sure he could entirely accept that, yet Helena offered it as what she felt an honest estimate, and instead of partially rebuffing it, just took in her words, without a word back. She seemed to accept this, perhaps even expecting it. Bless her, she is an understanding woman.

He didn't have much more he wanted to say, and Helena did not push. When they stood, he walked over and gave her a gentle kiss of appreciation.

He stared at the doorway after she left.

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. The idea of a funeral for her father. 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.

The food was very good. In fact, the lasagna was already her favorite Alphan food so far, and was about as good as some of her favorites from childhood. The salad was delicious too, with an acidic liquid called vinegar applied to it, and she found herself taking one of the pieces of bread and burying it under the salad, to make part of an old Psychon favorite, bread'salad. If only I could find something like.... Tony had given her a look she could not interpret, but said nothing.

After that, he brought her back to quarters, carrying some of her leftovers and a box of cereal from her daily request allotment. Tony asked for a 'milk substitute' and gave it to her when they got to her quarters. "Well, you can't really have cereal without milk," he said. "The milk needs refrigeration. The cereal does not." At least he was still doing some other nice things for her.

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

Maya had decided that the half-hour leap time Sandra had built into Maya's schedule would make for a good, regular contemplation period. Not that there wouldn't be other times where that was appropriate, but it seemed wise to use this weekly period for such.

She did have a lot more to contemplate, however, spending much of the day trying to recall some of the proper established patterns of the Final Parting Ceremony, and what words she would fill in the variant or fuzzy portions. She had such conflicted feelings about her father now. So many happy memories, good memories, bad memories, and shocking memories.

She was being forced, in a partial manner, to deal with some of the memories and the conflict, and it was difficult. There had still been some good in Mentor to the end, and until the final fraction of a day, she had scarcely known otherwise, despite the usual parent-child arguments, which as an adult looking back, had just been good parenting. No, he deserved a farewell, but it was a more complicated one, and she had no Guide to help her through the ceremony steps, or family or very close friends to help her through the emotional aspects.

By the time leap time came, she was exhausted, and decided that since she had spent more than half of second'part in contemplation, using the first leap time for an attempt to relax before sleep, in hopes of avoiding more nightmares, might be in order.

It didn't work. 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.

S-349 DAB 0400-1630: Memorial and Funerals

As Maya, awoke, calmly, without a nightmare, she held her eyes closed for a moment, reminding herself she wasn't on Psychon anymore. No more orange walls. She was on Alpha, in her white-and-grey quarters. She opened her eyes, looking around at this low perspective. Compared to waking up from a nightmare, this was almost comforting. Thankfully, Maya had finally slept for awhile, and for the first time on Alpha, awoke for first'part without a scream. She wasn't sure if that was progress given the problems earlier in the night. She got up.

Hours later, Maya quietly listened to the memorial. The Commander had met with her for breakfast, and explained that while the memorial service would be broadcast across Alpha, that she could certainly choose to turn it off. She had, however, insisted she had to listen.

To the funeral, she had chosen to wear her own Psychon clothing and jewelry. She had quietly removed the feathers, which seemed inappropriate for this occasion. The dress wasn't really a funeral dress at all, but it was all she had that wasn't Alphan. The dress had been her mother's, made by Mentor's mother, Mendia, as a gift one year, in what turned out to be late in Taylia's life. It had been left by Taylia for Maya to wear when she grew up. The control'pendant had been given by her maternal grandfather Liakvut for her grandmother Yutoa, who had then handed it down to Taylia, who had in turn given it to Maya. Even her other grandfather, Yetror, was represented, by the hair'pins he had given Maya when her hair had grown long enough to use them. Maya had worn rings as well, and one was a Ring of Brotherhood given by her brother, Telior.

Wearing all of this made Maya feel she was bringing something of all of those closest to Mentor to his funeral, and she was thankful she could do that.

It was a difficult day. 349 Days after Breakaway, Commander John Koenig had the difficult role of speaking. The Chaplain opened up the memorial, and John Koenig talked about the four who were lost and the survivors carrying on.

Fifty people altogether were in a cafeteria where the tables had been removed and the chairs faced towards what was usually the back of the room, away from the kitchen portion. Others gathered around terminals throughout the base to listen. It was a somber occasion, as they always were.

He attended all the funerals as well, which were all held in the chapel, a smaller room, by those closer to each of the deceased. Two of the funerals were followed by burials. The memorial had started promptly in the morning, while the funerals wound their way through the rest of the morning and into the afternoon.

Each of the funerals was attended by a full room, except for the fifth and last.

To that, Tony quietly brought Maya, who was wearing her Psychon outfit sans the feathers, and with the same hair arrangement as that day.

Uniquely for this funeral, there was a table set up front, with two chairs facing each other and the sides of the room. Two small boxes sat on the table, as well as a plate with a fairly small loaf of bread sitting on it.

John, Helena, Alan, Sandra, and the Chaplain attended. Bill did as well, but without Annette. Joan Conway was present as well, apparently having sought out information about whether this would happen. Tony was present too. If it was out of a sense of support or of security, John could not tell.

Maya arrived in the chapel. There were more people there than she expected. She had not estimated anyone more than the Commander, the Doctor, the Chaplain, and the Security Officer -- and that the last might choose to wait outside. Yet not only were there the four, but Alan, Janina, and Bill as well.

She found the box had been prepared, complete with the words imprinted on a strip of metal on its side: "In memory of Mentor, Son of Yetror." The Commander had, at their shared meal, shown her a piece of paper with this written on it, saying he had prepared the box but that something had to be written on it, and saying this was one idea, but that she could write anything.

"No, Commander, that is perfect, and if I had thought of asking for that, I could not have come up with better words."

The Commander had even asked if she wanted it printed in Psychon as well, and she had welcomed the idea with soft thanks and had drawn out the words, which had been dutifully and accurately rendered onto the metal above the same words in Alphan. She had insisted on keeping the Alphan words. She had been welcomed to this small alien world, and since a few wanted to show clear support, and the Commander had offered fine words to imprint on the box, she wanted the Alphan part included as well.

What she did not expect was a second box.

"Open it, Maya," the Commander said gently after she noticed it.

Maya did so, and found, cushioned in some fabric, a glistening, sheared, multi-hued rock.

"Psychon? You found a piece of Psychon? Is that what this is?"

"Yes," the Commander said. "Some pieces were tracked to their collision points with the Moon, and a survey turned up one so far, near the base, actually."

"And you brought me one?" she almost choked, tears starting to well up in her eyes.

"It is for you. Something you may keep if you wish."

"Yes," she said immediately.

He handed her another strip of paper, on which was written: "In memory of the planet Psychon."

"You can write out the words in Psychon later, or rewrite all of it, and we'll do another strip of metal."

"Oh, thank you," she said, with a slight sob, tears starting to well in her eyes. "That is most generous."

She reached out and touched the rock, then cleared her eyes and her voice, and rearranged the table slightly.

The box in memory of Mentor she placed on the table nearest one chair. The small loaf of bread, she placed in the middle of the table, with two of the small plates on either side, halfway to each chair, and the third plate closest to the other Alphans. The box with the piece of Psychon, she seemed uncertain what to do for a moment, then moved it to the part of the table closest to the front of the room, and left it open. She sat down in the other chair.

She closed her eyes and sat quietly for almost a minute, then opened them and looked at the people. "We gather today to say farewell to Mentor, Son of Yetror, Son of Mendia, Husband of Taylia, Father of Telior, and Father of Maya, who sits here representing herself and others. He was member of the Psychon High Scientific Council, the second last Psychon left on the planet, and unfortunately, the creator of Psyche. He attempted to save the planet, but in doing so, lost his way and cost others dearly. Before then, he was a fine man, raising a family, being one of many who recognized the danger to Psychon, but also trying to stave it off.

"Four Psychon days ago, I lost my father, who raised me after the loss of my mother. My father was there for me, gave me strength, helped me find my own. I could confide in him, and after I had become an adult, he confided some of his lingering pain to me. Yet he kept secrets, terrible secrets, straying terribly from social and scientific paths. He did all he could, but too much, to try saving our planet. Yet I cannot forget the father he was, of the times he was a gentle father, or standing firm against misbehavior. He raised two highly inquisitive children, one earlier in adulthood, and one into his middle age, with and without the equal help of his wife whom even as a child I could recognize he loved deeply. Like any of us, he was flawed, perhaps more than most, but it is not for me to judge today, for today I sit without my father, representing those who passed beyond before him, and those who have scattered into space, hopefully still safe."

She closed her eyes and paused for some time again. When she opened them, she reached for the loaf of bread, and divided it in half, putting one half on the plate closest to her, and the other on the plate furthest from her, closest to the empty chair. The third plate, where there was no chair, she left empty.

She recited the first four lines of the ancient Poem of Continuation, spoken by the Representative on behalf of all present, though she was the only one here to whom it had full meaning. She said them first in Psychon, then translated to Alphan:

I already started eating again.
I had to, as the living must.
One life lost, the rest live on,
transformed but still the same.

She split her part of the bread again, putting one piece on her plate and one on the third plate. Then she split hers yet again, and ate a piece. "I eat again, in symbolic memory of the meals I shared with you, and the ones I have already started consuming since I lost you."

She looked to everyone else. "Commander, Doctor: would you be willing to participate more directly for a moment?"

Both affirmed, standing and stepping forward, as Maya humbly asked everyone else to stand in front of their chairs. She reached for the third plate, and also split that quarter loaf further. Then she stood up, reached down for her one-eighth portion of the original loaf, and lifted it, while John and Helena followed suit on their one-eighth pieces.

Maya spoke the next six lines of the ancient Poem of Continuation, again in Psychon and then Alphan:

I share such time with others again;
and these two represent all the others
who already have or will in my future.
Yet we all stand now instead of sitting,
for there is an empty chair this time,
and we share this food in farewell.

She then brought her piece towards her mouth, as did John and Helena, and they ate together. She smiled slightly, as did they. Then she nodded, and glanced towards their seats. What a Psychon already knew to do, they took with a simple silent hint. Then she said in Psychon and then Alphan:

I must learn to smile more once again,
even though there will always be
a new void'space in my being.

She walked over to the other side of the table, picked up the half-loaf still remaining, and after a moment of gratitude that the Alphans had unknowingly also provided her with a way to symbolize part of the third line of the next phase of the poem, which she had modified but now reverted to its true form. She lifted the half-loaf off the plate, and touched it to the piece of Psychon.

This bread cannot be consumed,
for the lost one is not here to consume it.
It touches our soil, but remains untransformed.

She then moved to the empty chair, and placed the half loaf in the box.

This represents the meals we can no longer share,
and will be buried in memory of you --
and the ones we did share.

The poem finished, she quietly closed the box. While very dignified throughout, tears now came quietly to her eyes, as she said final parting words, again in two languages: "Farewell, Father. Farewell, Mentor, Son of Yetror, of Psychon."

She stood there, waiting and hoping but not sure anyone would, and not wanting to ask.... Helena approached then, a little, opening her arms a bit, and Maya nodded, accepting a hug, which she received from each in turn. Even Tony did so, seemingly without reservation, at least at this moment, for which she was grateful as well.

"Thank you for coming in support. I appreciate it."

She and the Commander had arranged to take the box outside the base, now asking to take it where the found piece of Psychon had crashed. Her dress and a spacesuit would not work well together, so the Commander took her to her quarters and waited outside. He had carried the box holding the fragment of Psychon, and she the other box, took both inside, and now emerged in uniform with just the "In Memory of Mentor" box, and went with him to an airlock with a moonbuggy in it. Just outside were two Service personnel waiting with their spacesuits.

Ten minutes later, the two of them were at the site, where the small crater, a few feet across, previously disturbed only by gloved hands, remained.

This part of the ceremony was wordless, silence reigning as they both got out of the moonbuggy, each standing on either side of the crater for a few moments before she knelt down, leaned forward, set the box inside, and gently moved dust from around it to bury it, Maya nodding at John to signal him to help as well.

This part, like the main'part, was in an alien context, yet it still felt almost completely true as well. She had done what she could to give him a proper funeral, despite being without a Guide, and on an alien world. Yet though only aliens could attend with her, people that did not know the same person she had, she felt happy they had extended her the courtesy of their presence and patience and more, had practically pushed her to do what she realized was still right, despite everything. She wanted to thank the Commander again, but now was still not the time for words.

They returned to the Alpha city, and as she had asked, they parted silently at her quarters, but with small smiles, which she had explained beforehand would symbolize they would meet under happier circumstances again, soon.

Inside her quarters, she cried quietly, the grief flowing, yet tinged with gratitude for Alphan actions towards her. Of all the peoples who might have arrived at Psychon's end, it had been them, and despite a lot of reservations on their part, she could have had a very different fate.

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

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.

Flight 1

• Eagle(s): 1?
• Frozen City
• hunt for Bridge Key
• Koenig
• Maya
• ???

"I am to be on a mission?" Maya asked.

"This is just preliminary planning, of course; but yes, no matter what you remember before then, you may be helpful with on-the-ground interpretation too."

Maya was smiling, clearly happy to be included. Tony gave her an odd look, and the smile faded a bit. John missed the latter, as he'd already turned around, to add:

Flight 2

• Eagle(s): (cargo?)
• Rotting Cities
• salvage opportunities?
• drop 4 commsats in temp. orbit?
• Who? (later)

"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 discussion trailed off from there, and John dismissed Bob and Maya, Tony calling a guard to take the latter for more spacesuit and related practice, which Alan would join a little later.

That left the entire officer corps present, for a status roundtable.

Diane Bell was conscious, but was unfortunately partially paralyzed, though whether temporarily or permanently, Helena could not say. "I have hope rehabilitation and some experimental therapy may eventually return the use of her legs."

Alan spoke up, "I talked to her, and she already wants to return to duty as soon as she is able, even if chairbound."

"Will that work, with an Eagle technician?" John asked.

"She won't be able to work on Eagles directly, but she could split her time, partially on checking or repairing systems on the bench. I knew at least one person back on Earth doing that."

"Okay, if you think it could work. What do you mean partially?"

"The rest is a personnel issue."

John paused, then said, "Fine, let's discuss it now."

"Okay." Alan promptly brought up Pete Garforth, department head of Eagle Maintenance, the part of Technical Section that Alan had temporary oversight of since the loss of David Kano. Alan outlined that Garforth, while not outright incompetent, just was far more competent technically than in leadership, and had only slipped further on the latter since becoming a father. "I think Bell could take the management role and be productive, while still being able to help out on the technical; and Garforth would be more productive in a pure-technical role, maybe eventually a chief engineer role, where the job was still less supervisory."

"I'll consider it, after we see how well Diane starts mending, and I may have a talk with Garforth at some point."

"Thank you."

"How are pad and lift repairs going?"

"Karedepoulos has some people starting to work on them now that we have the last of the Eagle debris cleared."

"Good. Regarding the decompressed section, he's already had people patch the hull. One full outer hull panel needed replacing, but he'll be doing a pressurization test tomorrow, and if successful, the rooms can be inventoried for damage to stored equipment. Sandra, arrange that, please. Half the rooms will need further repair."

"And the bulkhead failure?" Tony asked.

"Engineer van der Mir confirmed it was a motor failure. A stress fracture that seized it up. A construction flaw that was not caught in maintenance cycles."

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. John still struck Helena as carrying tension even here, but relatively speaking, he seemed a little more relaxed.

M-350 DAB 1600-1730: Star'board

Alan, Bill, and Maya boarded the Eagle. Maya stopped inside, waiting for instruction. This session was to teach her data every person was required to know about an Eagle'spaceship.

"Port or starboard," Alan said.

"Port or star'board?" Maya asked, baffled.

Alan, still facing towards the back of the ship, gestured to the left and said, "Starboard." Then he gestured to the right and said, "Port."

"Star'board and port equal left and right?"

He shook his head. "No, it refers to halves of a ship regardless of which direction you face. Turn around. When you face the front of the ship, port is on the left and starboard is on the right. The terms are to be unambiguous -- the same parts of the ship no matter how a person is facing."

"Ah, I understand."

"So, take a seat, port or starboard, your choice."

The words all sounded like they were borrowed from elsewhere, for no apparent reason here. Port and star'board. There was something pleasing about the strange term star'board, over the just-as-odd term port. Struck with that thought, she picked a seat on the star'board side and sat down.

They first covered emergency brace positions in case of pending crash. Alan then discussed how some Eagle pods varied in internal arrangement, some having less seats and more equipment, some no seats, purely for transport of supplies. The seats could even be removed or added, however. Some Eagles had a science station against the star'board wall, something she found pleasing for some vague reason, maybe anticipating that she might be able to help there.

There was a First Aid kit. "Has anyone started you on First Aid training yet?" he asked her.

"No, but Helena stated the need."

"Okay, good. Just so you know, there's another kit over there, one in the rear section which I'll show in a little while, and one in the pilot module."

There were numerous panels. There were food storage and beverage dispensers, as she had seen on Eagle 4.

"Grub," Maya commented.

"Yep," Alan said with a laugh. "More formally known as astronaut food or MRE's -- Meals Ready to Eat -- different packing styles."

The weapons rack she remembered from her flight from Psychon, as well as the open closets for pressure'clothing -- spacesuits -- and related packs. The last ranged from air packs -- she kept air pack as two separate words in her mind now, as much she thought it was a single contracted word -- to maneuvering packs. Safety tethering ropes. Alan described procedures for immediately donning spacesuits if atmosphere was venting.

They got up to the pilot module, and she had her first look at the flight controls. Every spaceship was unique in some way in its flight control metaphor, and this one's sheer multitude of small lights, toggle switches, buttons and readouts of many sorts, all suggested flight was achieved via the pilot processing a myriad of small details. It looked like a fascinating challenge.

He went through more procedures, followed by what they called drills, despite the use of the same word'sound for a construction tool. The Alphans seemed to be fond of using construction words in other contexts. 'Hammer instead of lightning bolts,' she recalled Tony saying once, something she still did not understand, but had not sought clarification for. Post seemed to be re-used frequently. Board too.

After each drill, she received a critique from the two astronauts, on positive and negative actions she had made, and possible improvements.

The training continued for awhile.

M-350 DAB 1800-2000: Pressing for Information

"Do you have any other questions?"

Maya said nothing at first, then at Helena's further encouragement, offered, "Have you run the DNA scans yet?"

Helena could hear a couple questions behind the one: 'Even if I'm not fully human in appearance, am I close enough to be considered human in other ways?' and perhaps also, 'Can I have children with Alphans?' Helena was just guessing, and did not want to ask.

"They're still ongoing." Finally, Helena had the chance to ask something she had thought of before, though Maya's question made her pretty sure what sort of answer there would be. "Does your metamorphic sense give you any insight into that?"

"It does not work that way. I know the molecular patterns, but the details are not conscious level, and I think even at the unconscious, there is no understanding of what the molecules are. Our scientists and doctors still had to research such things, though we perhaps still have some insights based on metamorphic ability. It just isn't always detailed. I cannot compare my understanding of Terran and Psychon DNA and know what their differences mean in that way."

"I thought so. To pick another example, do you know why you have such a high potassium reading electrolytically?"

"High? Compared to you?" Maya asked. Helena nodded. "Negative," Maya said. "I sense that I'm fine. I can sense that difference between us; but I do not know what it means either."

"You said before you cannot get ill from infections, and I think you implied you cannot be poisoned either. You can detect foreign material?"

"I feel warnings when something troubling is within me, and can shift it out if needed."

"But you can still be injured, or suffer other problems."

"Yes. It is possible that if injured, I may transform and then seek out help for my own form."

For a moment, Helena did not understand, then it was crystal clear. The ability was still so alien, after all.... "So if another Alphan comes to Medical Center claiming to be you and injured, we have a chance to prepare and get information before you revert?"

"Yes."

The conversation continued for awhile, as Helena ran more checks and scans.

Most of the results were identical to earlier checks. Maya's baseline was essentially established, from these checks and from the basics coming from the medical monitor, despite various interruptions from removal during a shower -- and perhaps metamorphic practice, Helena realized abruptly. On insistent questioning, Maya admitted to still feeling tension, so it was possible some readings would still alter a little bit, slowly over time.

"Nightmares?"

Helena essentially knew the answer, since Maya was still wearing the wrist monitor. Still, Maya said nothing at first, then stated, "I am not getting them every time I wake up." There was a longer pause, then, "They are difficult, but I am getting through them." She did not continue, and did not look at Helena with that already-familiar 'ask me any question' expression. That she even admitted to them being difficult was more than the Psychon had been willing to say before, and Helena decided not to press.

If Bob was right, only trust within the context of a friendship would be helpful. Maybe Maya would never talk very specifically about the nightmares, but it seemed highly unlikely she would if pressed too hard. There was little this Psychon had been stubborn on so far, so Helena left well enough alone, and moved to other topics.

Maya immediately seemed relieved, answering questions readily. It was a good session, with more scans, checks, and answers -- as well as a few new mild surprises.

Just as well, as Bob was starting to press Helena for more information on Alpha's new and unusual patient. So was Ben for that matter, and the head nurse too. All good signs. The head paramedic hadn't asked much, which was a disappointment to the Chief Medical Officer. He hadn't met Maya yet, but that was no excuse.

Helena decided to at least correct the lack of an introduction, and called him in. The meeting was somewhat uncomfortable. Helena then called a guard to accompany Maya back to her next destination. It was late in Helena's day, but with a lot to see to and various Alphans' non-first-shift schedules, it was hard to avoid this necessity sometimes.

After Maya left, the paramedic did start asking for any updates on things to watch for regarding Maya.

Maybe Helena had been too quick to judge, but she was not sure. Some further on-the-spot quizzing of paramedics would be in order to make sure the information was getting around properly.

Sometimes called pimping -- rudely enough -- in some medical cultures, spot checks of information by more senior or higher-ranking personnel of others, was routine and necessary. Checking for such proficiency in medical procedures was yet another way of keeping everyone on their toes, something absolutely vital in medical circles, regardless of where, or whom they were caring for.

There had been another -- fortunately minor -- surgery on Diane Bell. Hopefully it was going to speed up her recovery and perhaps add to her chances of recovering feeling in her legs -- though the surgery itself was also going to add to the poor woman's rehab time.

Nurse Sally Martin had been part of the surgical team. At one point, as Helena often did, she asked a basic question, this time of Sally, in this case asking which blood types were incompatible with Diane's. It sounded like a single question, but required knowing two things: Diane's type, and basic blood grouping type knowledge -- as well as being sure not to regurgitate compatible types out of habit, but incompatible, as that had been Helena's question.

Sally had answered in a 'this is easy' tone, but had missed listing Maya's type. There had been a long, uncomfortable pause, and a stare by the head nurse, also present, at Martin, before the junior nurse had sheepishly added Y to the list.

Even with a mask on, it wasn't hard to see the head nurse was disappointed, and she had later approached Helena to insist she would make sure this was corrected. "I passed on the preliminary information days ago, and they should have had it down, especially such a fundamental piece of information. By the way, do you have any new information?"

Alpha was like any other medical institution in having to adapt to the latest procedures and information, and Alpha had always been a research organization too, so keeping up with shifting sands was supposed to be something everyone was ready for. Of course, everyone was only human too, at least in the metaphorical sense; but that was all the more reason to keep on one's own toes. That the doctors and heads of other groups were asking for information of the CMO kept Helena on her toes too. That was the way it needed to be.

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."

"What, now?"

"After we change."

"I meant.... Well, actually, let me contact Sandra and ask if she knows." Only the briefest of explanations was required, and Bill found out Maya was most likely back at her quarters, ready for what Sandra said was a regular nap.

"Regular nap?" Annette asked when the connection was broken.

"Psychon had a day that was almost 33.5 hours long." Something about that puzzled Bill slightly. "Even they must have found it rather long."

"In some countries, it is common. Siesta?"

"True."

After some quick prep, they were on their way.

"We should invite her for dinner at our place," Annie said about halfway there.

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 astonished at the turn of events.

Annie stepped back, and they talked a little more, Maya finally asking, in a rather shy way, "Excuse me for asking something which may be obvious to Terrans, but your culture's clarifiers are confusing."

"Our clarifiers are confusing?" Bill asked, probably sounding as baffled as Annie looked.

"Your second name Fraser is shared. Are you siblings, or are you married?"

"Oh, Annette and I are married," Bill said, placing a hand on Annie's arm and drawing a gentle smile from Maya.

Annie held up her other hand and said, "Ring on this finger of this hand is a sign of marriage. Well among many of us, anyway." Maya looked at it with interest, but her fleeting look of sadness went unnoticed.

"Siblings almost always have shared last names too," Bill said. They are family names. Yet some family names are so old that two people with the same last name may not be related at all, at least not within five or six generations. George Osgood and Patrick Osgood are not related."

"When a woman marries," Annette said, "most choose to take the last name of her husband."

"Really?" Maya said with obvious surprise. "Forgive me, I think I heard of that once, but...."

"Don't worry," Annette said. "I bet our... clarifiers sound even less than clear than before."

Maya nodded shyly.

"That's okay, we sometimes would have to seek clarification too. You just have to ask. What did you mean by clarifier?"

"We always go by our single name, but in certain very formal contexts, when two coincidentally same-named people are present, or for a few other rare purposes, extra information called a clarifier is given, usually only once. It is not a family name or other indicator, however, so further relationship information would have to be sought out."

"Daughter of Mentor?" Annette asked, with a surprisingly even voice.

Maya looked away for a moment, then back, nodding slightly.

"And if people were trying to converse with two Mayas in the room?"

"Direct eye contact when saying the name, or a temporary compacted modification, like adding the last sound in the clarifier, if that creates non-ambiguity."

"Mayar?" Annette said with a smile, after a pause.

"Yes, actually, or a fragment of a word referring to hair color, order of arrival at the event, or anything. It is rare to need to do so, at least as far as I knew."

"Mayar. Funny thing is, some east-coast Yanks might end up calling you that for completely unrelated reasons, by accident, once and awhile."

"Oh, why? And who are Yanks?"

"Yankees. A nickname for people from a state -- er, nation-state of Earth called the United States, or from parts of it anyway, like New York or Boston or something. Northeast coast. Some tend to unconsciously put 'r' sounds at the end of words ending in a vowel, from time to time anyway. Just the way that accent sometimes works."

"New Yorkers do that, I think," Bill said. He was ready to move on, though. Earth was infrequently discussed among humans, for the painful subject it was; and the alien clearly didn't understand the geo-political references anyway and did not seem too interested in asking.

After a pause, though, she asked a question. "Does that explain why Commander Koenig called me that once?"

Bill almost laughed, until he remembered the context, of the Commander, Alan, Helena, and himself watching Alpha getting hit by Mentor's weapon, all of them desperate to get out, and the Commander uttering her name -- but as "Mayar" -- suddenly in surprise that she had returned after fleeing their prior confrontation. "Yes," Bill told Maya simply.

There was an uncomfortable silence, given two of the three present were now recalling unpleasant circumstances, while Annette looked back and forth for a moment, before turning to Maya.

"And for the rest of why we came, Bill and I would like to invite you to our quarters for dinner."

Surprise, a small smile, and disbelief all seemed to cross her face at once, as best as Bill could tell. "You don't have to do that," she said.

"Of course we do. Would love to. We can get to know each other a little better."

"Would you like to come?" Bill added.

Even though it took a fraction longer to verbally answer, Maya was actually nodding first, like she wanted to be invited but was just being sure they really wanted to invite her. "Yes, very much so. Thank you."

Arrangements were made for tomorrow, and the couple then soon left.

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."

"If you don't mind, why don't you get that chair and I'll pull that whiteboard over here, and we can get started. Oh, and feel free to comment, ask questions, offer information, whatever. Call it all primitive junk if you want."

"I would never do that," she protested, abruptly blushing.

"Be honest. You won't hurt my feelings. We've got a lot of cutting edge stuff on Alpha, but I often wish I was working on even more advanced stuff. Well, I've seen some fragments of alien circuitry, but it's damaged and difficult to interpret. That was why it was always great when I got the chance to work with Professor Bergman sometimes -- the most inventive man I've ever met."

Maya kept hearing compliments about Professor Victor Bergman. He had obviously been their best scientist, and a much beloved person. She suddenly wondered if she was going to hear that a lot, and oddly wondered if she was going to be compared considerably to him. They were seeking for her to fill a technical role, his former role. Suddenly, she felt like she was in an awkward place, not with Carl but this whole alien city. Would they see her as an alien who had taken the place of someone everyone seemed to love?

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.

She soon found out these basic circuit'planes were called circuit boards here. It sounded like a contraction, but he spelled it on the white'board as two words. He had not mentioned circuit'cubes, nor said anything about the circuit'sphere standing elsewhere in the room. Why were so many things on Alpha called a board? Whiteboard, she could understand. Key'board, 'board' on the Alpha Information System, the mysterious term star'board, now circuit boards as well. Drills and Posts too. There was heavy word'sound reuse in some parts of Alphan.

He had not explained the overall function of a single one of the circuit boards yet, which she thought was curious. She soon found out why, sort of. With about an hour left in the session, he started asking her to guess what each was. Most of her initial guesses were wildly off, yet on each guess, he wrote down a few things, out of her sight, before proceeding to correct her.

She guessed one correctly: "A circuit which filters out random disturbances in the electrical stream to provide a more accurate representation of the original signal?"

"Noise filter, yes. Very good."

Yet he continued to write down her incorrect, long-phrased answers.

"I am not doing well," she finally admitted, feeling suddenly like it was one of Eralay's history classes and that she was getting a lot of bad marks.

"Oh, no, not at all. Some of your wrong answers are in the right ballpark." He explained the last term, but not the purpose of these questions, which continued for awhile. He started asking her to estimate what would happen if certain components failed. Some she speculated would cause complete failure; but many cases would create short circuits -- cross'circuiting.

When she expressed her puzzlement they didn't have built-in integrity layers, he got very interested, asked a lot of questions, then asked, "And if they're built of the same kind of technology, why would they not fail?"

"They are built of a different branch of technology, and the main circuits have cross-feed to sense the proper working of the verification circuits."

"Hmm, we really have only one layer of technology, in general terms anyway, unless you start counting vacuum tubes and components like that, which are far too big."

"Vacuum tubes?"

What he described was so completely primitive Maya was not sure she had even heard of it before. Perhaps a stage that most advanced cultures had passed through in a century or two, in their distant past. With Alphans' artificial gravity and force field generators, the Terrans were clearly hundreds of years into their technological age. She avoided asking any further questions about vacuum tubes, and they moved on, returning to the same training/question/answer pattern, which still left her uneasy that she might be failing in his judgment.

They soon moved to nearly-intact devices, him encouraging her to open panels and look inside. She was abruptly reminded again of when she sneaked out to the atmoflyer'room to start opening access panels to peek at the circuitry inside the aldi'neelka....

Finally, though they had scarcely gotten to a fraction of the circuit boards and devices in this room, he sat down and looked at her, smiling a bit. Maya looked at him. She had trouble interpreting the possible age of humans, but this one seemed approximately the age of the Commander. She had no idea why she was thinking about that.

"Well," he said, walking over to his desk and retrieving something unusual looking, "that was by far the fastest crash course from electrical theory to device identity I've ever taught. Quite enjoyable, actually. We've got a half hour left, and before the next step, which I have to retrieve, why don't you take a break, and try this food, a South African specialty. Still made by some back home, despite the partial scattering of both sides. Hmm, never mind, just try the biltong. It is dried meat. Dried more than it usually already is, for long storage you know. Not much of the real stuff left on Alpha. The Texturizer does it little justice, and the best spices are missing, so I just try to mete out my dwindling stock slowly."

His last paragraph had gotten dense with curious wordings, but she had the clear impression that he had precious little of the biltong left. "That is very kind of you, but I do not want to deprive you of your rare food'stock types."

"The sad thing about me is that whenever I bring one here to snack on, half the time I'm not even paying close attention to it. Old snacking habit of an expatriate in Australia and the Netherlands, when I should be saving them all for a late-evening snack. That is a long-winded way of saying that rather than this one suffering the same fate as half the others, you should have it. And you should have it just because. If you like it, of course. Please."

Some of his phrasing was still puzzling, but his intent was clear. She was getting rather hungry for her snack, and she decided to accept. She found it had a variety of tastes to it.

"From the drying, salting, and spicing process," he said.

"It is tasteful."

"I think you meant 'tasty.'"

"Oh, yes, tasty."

As she nibbled at its thick, dried texture, he went to another room, and emerged carrying a moderate-sized metal case. He set it down in front of her, next to the plate with the biltong.

Oddly, the case reminded her of-

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.

Maya couldn't believe her good fortune at first, until she remembered they wanted her to be involved. Still, it felt like a gift, too, even more so when 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."

Carl's words echoed in her mind. It was a wonderful way to start, and her mind was instantly trying to associate components into circuits. She had to forcefully push the thoughts aside, to thank him for his generosity and to listen to some further information, instructions, safety protocol, and to his request that if she had any questions to feel free to call him during first'shift or leave an electronic post. She listened while continuing to nibble on the biltong and enjoy its delicious alien flavor.

When Tony returned, she had finished the food. Carl lent her a more advanced reference book, and asked her to continue making initial guesses at circuit boards, writing them down with the terse ID codes.

Tony looked at the box of defunct circuitry, and the moderately heavy tool'box, then said, "We've got some hauling."

"No, let me get a cart," Carl said. "If you don't have enough table space in your room, keep the cart until you get a lab or something else."

Tony had not been sure what to expect, but he was still a bit surprised to find Carl had indeed gone ahead and found Maya an electrician's toolbox -- a somewhat larger one than he had expected -- and a whole box full of defunct electrical circuit boards besides.

Tony was going to have Maya push the cart, so that Tony could keep an eye out, but Carl, a gentleman in his early fifties, would have none of that, and insisted on pushing it himself.

It was a long trip down hallways, an elevator, a travel tube, another elevator, and more hallways, but they ended up at Maya's quarters, Maya asking more questions in the meantime.

She asked the two men if they wanted to sit down. Tony wasn't going to, but Carl took Maya up on the offer, and Maya looked very happy, so Tony relented. Maybe she was pleased to have other Alphans using the lounge chairs.

"I can only offer water at the moment -- or cereal and milk."

"Water would be fine."

Maya grabbed some cups from the foodstation and disappeared into the bathroom to get some water. Carl looked at Tony and observed, "She seems to be a sociable type."

"Mmm," was Tony's sole comment. Carl frowned, but resumed smiling when Maya returned.

They talked a little more about circuitry, but it was not a lengthy visit, Carl eventually saying he had to grab a bigger meal and get something repaired before his shift was over. Maya thanked him politely for his time, and for the biltong.

"Is that a Psychon word?" Tony asked.

"He said something about South African?"

"Oh, okay," Tony said quickly. One of the uglier parts of recent history. Decades of Apartheid. The country's tearing itself to pieces in one of the poorer fairings in the third world war, twelve years before Breakaway. Rifts there had started healing, but some people had never come back, and as far as Tony could remember, Carl was the latter case, yet seemed to harbor no ill-willed bitterness over it.

He and Carl left then, and they talked as they headed out of and away from this residential block. By common, unspoken Alphan agreement, they said nothing about the war. Earth was in the past -- not forgotten, but rarely discussed, to avoid the pain of memories, bad and good, considering the huge separation Breakaway had caused.

"If you don't mind me saying, you don't seem to entirely trust her or something," Carl observed.

"Huh? Oh, old security officer habits."

"Mmm," Carl commented pointedly.

"You obviously seem impressed with her, since you did go ahead right away and exercised the contingency I stated."

"Yeah, she was mostly just lacking the words, on electrical theory. That part we dealt with very quickly. She knows it quite fluently. Components took awhile longer, but she's got all the basic ones now, and it is just a matter of working her way through the more and more complex combinations. Just time, more learning, and practice. And yes, I went over safety protocols. I suspect she'll quickly need a lab, by the way. Professor Bergman liked to work out of his own quarters a lot, but those were big. Hers are not."

"What was all that about having her write down her guesses?"

Carl laughed. "Yeah. She.... I encouraged her to talk about whatever she wanted to add, but she had trouble describing anything of her technology, at least at this point. No shared vocabulary, I guess. She probably needs to talk to a physicist too. When we got to actual circuit boards and devices, I was curious if she could guess usage patterns. The results were very mixed, not surprisingly. Some of her answers were intriguing, though, and I started copying them down, wrong or not."

"Why?"

"Some of her guesses were pretty unusual. Not exotic or anything hyper-advanced, mind you, but that she thought a circuit panel might do something else than what I knew it was designed for, I found very interesting. Back in my teaching days, a few times, a student's guess would seem to have a grain of a new idea in it. I would bring him or her in and pursue it, but find they had no further detail to offer, usually because I had told them the real purpose and it made more sense to them. I'd pursue it on my own or with graduate students, and usually nothing would result, but a couple times, something did, when we expanded on that grain and built something else."

"You think Maya might see other patterns and not even realize it?"

"Maybe. She expressed no more confidence in her 'wrong' guesses than anyone else I've seen, so it's probably up to me to think about her answers and see if there is anything left."

"Well, the Commander said it was to be a two-way street, so I guess we can start with you. Any serious pursuit still needs to go through the Science Board, once it forms -- soon I think."

"Right."

They reached an intersection where they stopped.

"Oh, Tony. I think she thought I was writing things down because she was doing poorly and I was going to show someone. I didn't want to corrupt the, uh, purity of her guesswork by telling her why I was so interested in her guesses. Free association and all that. I ask that you not tell her, but to find some way of reassuring her that I thought we had a great session and that she did very well."

"Uh, okay, I will do that."

They went their separate ways, Tony shaking his head. The whole situation still felt somewhat surreal.

Maya stared at the tool'box, but felt she should first log into the AIS. She had a few more elecposts, including a couple of "nice to meet you" follow-ups. Not everyone was doing that, but she was surprised and happy anyone was.

When she glanced over at her food'station, she recalled that she had not been able to offer Carl and Tony anything more than water, cereal, and milk. She would have to work on that.

Five minutes later, and after having freed her hair prior to sleep, she walked over to the tool'box, but then noticed the book, and realized she had not looked inside it yet. 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.

She recalled the electrical kit again, and it reminded her of what she had started recalling a couple times already today....

It was the day her parents had left on vacation, Maya staying with her grandparents Yetror and Mendia. Yetror had left on some unnamed errand, and Maya had been sent out to play quietly on her own, but had mischievously started climbing a tree when she shouldn't have, followed a leaf'fatworm, got her dress tangled in a side branch, and put a rip in it when she subsequently fell off the tree.

Mendia had chided her gently, but Yetror did more than just gentle chiding. "Mentor told me about your opening panels on the aldi'neelka without permission, and now you're climbing trees in the wrong clothes and doing damage to them and nearly yourself. You could have gotten hurt by the atmoflyer too -- badly hurt. The components are partially shielded, but not to persistent probing." He paused to let that sink in, then continued. "I was on an errand to get you something special, but after this, I don't think I want to give it to you."

That hurt. Maya pleaded she wouldn't do it again, but he didn't believe her sincerity was sufficient, and that he still felt a punishment was warranted. She was left to think about her actions the rest of the day, and into the next, and realized they really were worried about her, that this form of mischievousness really could get herself hurt. At first'meal, almost a day after she had arrived here, she contritely told them of her new understanding, and that she was sorry to put them and her own parents through worry.

It was not to be the last time her mischievousness got her in trouble, but it had nonetheless been a turning point, she remembered.

After first'meal, they had taken her to another room where something fairly large sat under a cover'sheet they had her pull off. She had been so excited, both for their having given her another chance, and because it was a child's technological experimentation kit. Yetror and Mendia spent most of the day demonstrating some of the more basic tools. It also came with basic electrical, photonic, and even some beginner's attryle circuits. Some circuits were pre-assembled, some for her to assemble over time, as well as a few subkits which were sealed.

"Mentor and I decided we needed to find a better outlet for your obvious technical curiosity."

"Oh, thank you!" she said, throwing a hug around him and then Mendia.

"The sealed ones are for much later," her Grandfather said. "You must leave them sealed until the time is right."

Much exploration ensued over the coming months, guided frequently by her parents, sometimes others; and eventually, she did start progressing to the more advanced subkits, one by one, in order. Each had a simple name that betrayed little of its intent. The last had the simplest yet most mystifying name: 'Ball.' Each device she got to assemble was more and more interesting. Small power generators, a pair of communications devices, an active scanner and a passive sensor, and a very simple computer.

'Ball' turned out to be a box of mostly cubic components and numerous other unassembled bits, none of which resembled a spherical toy in the slightest. She soon found out that subkit had a tiny anti-gravity generator and a tiny force field generator, both pre-assembled; but it was her responsibility to assemble all the rest. It took weeks, a little each day, but finally, it was assembled, still not looking like a toy.

"Here, Maya," Mother said. "I've programmed its remote functions into this controller'pendant, which I am giving to you now."

"Mother, this is your favorite pendant!"

"Yes. It was Grandmother Yutoa's, and she gave it to me at about this age. It is your responsibility now, so be careful with it. So you wear it when you are going to use this, then you bring both the device and the pendant back in the house."

"I would never want to damage your favorite pendant that was Grandmother's."

"Good; now try it. The first two controls are for increasing and decreasing anti-gravity, the second pair of controls for increasing and decreasing force field size. Try the anti-gravity first."

Maya activated the anti-gravity, but at Father's advice, slowly, a little at a time, picking up the device each and feeling how lighter it had gotten. Until finally, at maximum, it felt like air in her hands, and when she released the near-cube, it floated.

"Why does it have a height sensor, Maya?" Mentor quizzed.

She thought for a few moments, then said, "To make sure that when I throw it, it does not entirely leave Psychon."

Another question, from her father, and Maya described how she had to assemble velocity detectors and small scanners so the device could slow when it was about to hit something. They quizzed her more, and she mentioned the proximity detector; but did not know to what it was keyed. Her father had said her Mother had programmed it to the pendant, and Maya stated her realization it was so it wouldn't float or bounce to far away. There was even something that would activate the device if it was dropped while otherwise inactive. They had her try the force field, which was patterned, and strewn with interference patterns, giving it both a spherical and metamorphic appearance, varying in color and transparency. It looked like a ball now -- but an unusual one. She verbally recalled the other controls, on the inner cube itself, allowed her to alter or stop the metamorphic appearance.

The patterned force field made it hum a little, and Mother quizzed Maya for the reason. Maya had to think for a second, to her lessons on force field basics. "Because it is shedding outside layers quickly as it generates new ones on the inside?"

Mentor and Taylia both smiled with pride.

Of course, it was a ball, and a most unique one, and she soon wanted to take it outside to show the other children, her friends, so they could all play with it.

It had taken her many months to get to this point, but not once since receiving the learning kit had she opened up vehicle or house panels without permission. They had even started showing her some of those very things now too, in an organized manner. This way of learning turned out to be much more fun than sneaking around at the wrong times, though she had gotten herself into some other spots of trouble, sometimes. Yet her reward of the moment was just that, a fascinating technological toy, to show her friends, and simply play with.

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

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.

The longer he went without this announcement, the higher the chance of some incident, and grief over "hiding" the information -- not just grief for John, but more importantly, for Maya.

He had addressed the memo to everyone on base. Maya would see it too, so she would be aware of what he actually wrote. He had verbally warned her of his decision and asked for feedback, and had found her both relieved he was going to inform everyone, and clearly nervous about it at the same time. She knew it had to be done, but feared the reactions.

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. In the meantime, it would leave a noticeable hole in Maya's schedule, of which she would be aware. He thought of having another session moved earlier, but it had been difficult enough to arrange this schedule on short notice.

He was going to have Sandra dig up more for Maya to read, when John recalled Helena had already complained of lack of time to arrange for Maya to be given training in First Aid, a requirement of every adult on Alpha. So he contacted her on this opening. He did not mention the reason for the opening at this time, simply stating it was present and she could use it.

"Good," she said over the line. "Despite the odd time, it should work fine for the Head Nurse. I think I'll supervise the first session too, for any clues Maya may end up giving on Psychon physiology or needs, or any areas she may have more trouble with regarding humans."

He had done what he usually tried to do with a bad situation: make something at least partially useful out of it.

Helena wondered if there had been a cancellation. She was sure she would hear or find out later, but at least the First Aid training had finally made it onto the schedule. Scans and general discussions with Maya were most important, and with everything else going on, First Aid could wait -- but not too long.

Helena had monthly gatherings of several key Medical Section personnel: the CMO and all other attending physicians, as well as Head Nurse and Head Paramedic, and a couple secondary supervisors.

Helena gave the latest information she had, whether it was regarding Terrans or the Psychon. She also brought up the metamorphic aspect, asking if they were all aware of this by now. All were.

"Good. I know this probably makes some of you or your people nervous. Even I had a moment when I first learned about it. It passed. It needs to pass with everyone else as well. It is a unique ability, to be sure, but we need to adapt to it. If someone comes to you seeking treatment, claiming to be Maya in another form, take it seriously, seek information from her, and prepare everything needed before asking her to revert to her injured form or she has to do it herself." Helena got into more detail that she was aware of, then concluded. "I want it to be crystal clear among everyone in your departments that hesitation regarding treatment of Maya will not be tolerated, any more than refusal to treat any other patient with the same promptness. Make sure this is clear to everyone. Also, I suppose it is possible some of you may be called upon to treat someone else while Maya is present in a transformed state. There will be absolutely no gawking over Maya, regardless of what she happens to be, as this may delay treatment of the injured patient. This comes down no matter the role, doctor, nurse, paramedic, or orderly."

This was the strong, firm side of Helena that she had used to gain control over an off-balance section after her original arrival on Alpha, which she had continued to use when necessary, and it would hopefully continue to serve well.

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.

He brought up the basic template, which had had to be re-written after some files were lost in Breakaway, and filled in the details.

BASIC PUBLIC DISCLOSURE OF DISCIPLINARY CHARGES From: Commander John Koenig To..: All Personnel, Alpha Moonbase Re..: Security Guard Gregory Sanderson Date: 352 Days After Breakaway, 1600 Security Guard / Survey Leader Gregory Sanderson is hereby officially charged with: 1) Assault and Battery causing injury, against Science Advisor Maya, in a witnessed incident in Nuclear Generating Area 2, at aprx. 0805, today; 2) Assault and Battery, against Security Officer Tony Verdeschi, in reference to the same incident; 3) Willful disobedience of a superior officer's (T.V.) orders, in reference to the same incident; and 4) Unauthorized entry into locked space without prior clearance or clear external sign of danger, at the start of incident. 5) Causing minor damage (indirectly) to facilities. Sanderson is confined to his quarters until further notice, pending a full official review. Per policy, there is to be no non-security contact with him except by or via base commander and/or officers. Cdr.JK

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. Hopefully this wouldn't 'injure' her enthusiasm for the task or her hopefully rebuilding spirits too much. Almost at the same time, and not surprisingly, Dr. Conway requested the session be rescheduled soon, but this scheduling had been a little difficult and priorities were about the same, so he wrote back that it would probably be next week sometime.

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."

Dr. Conway was displeased, but not surprised, and did understand what the commander was saying about scheduling difficulties. It was simply that she had expected to have her first technical discussion with an alien -- with Maya -- and instead, was sitting in her office reading electronic posts instead. If nothing else, though, it would give more time for Janina to think about what she had seen the metamorph do, and try to come up with some polite ways to ask about that as well, from the perspective of physics. She wondered what the good Professor would have thought of that gift. Then she remembered Greg's words about Jane, which made Janina cringe, and realize just how bad Maya might be feeling now, especially remembering Maya's shocked expression. So she headed to Maya's quarters, hoping she had been released from Medical by now.

Maya let her in, and Joan found the Psychon had an easily readable, downcast expression.

"Janina, I am so--"

"Maya, I do not want to hear you apologize for something you did not do."

Maya looked puzzled for a second, then said, "Is what he said true?"

Janina sighed. "Yes, Jane was my best friend and his fiancée; but while I know he has the right to feel grief about her loss, there is no excuse for his throwing it at both of us that way."

Maya had an appearance of not knowing what to say next, then finally said, "What happened is something I find painful, that I wish had not happened. Would it be against Alphan social protocol to ask you what Jane was like?"

"Oh, Maya, I don't want to add to your pain."

"Janina, I only know her as a name I've heard a few times. All four of them. I wish to... understand. No, I do not know a good phrase."

"I think I understand. Or if I don't, it is okay anyway." So she talked about Jane for a little while, and curiously enough, found her own pain easing a little more talking to Maya than anyone else so far. In talking with Greg, he too quickly jumped to Jane's death and the cause, and some others often tried offering advice Janina did not want. Maya just listened.

"I am surprised you are being so friendly to me," Maya said after Janina stopped talking.

Janina got blunt immediately: "Do you expect or want to be beaten up -- physically or even mentally -- over something you didn't do?"

"Oh, no, of course not. I just didn't know...."

"How civilised we might be?"

Maya blushed. "Forgive me, I did not mean to sound like I was implying otherwise. Aliens have not always been kind to aliens, and my own father added further proof."

"But sometimes they are. I understand your fears. We feel it a lot out here, but you and Jane are both people -- two different people. Same about you and your father. You did not cause this, and even prevented more. There is no conflict with you being my friend too."

"Friend. I am glad you want that."

Janina could guess that if Maya had been alone with her father for so many years, she would not have had a friend of her own for ages. Alphans had almost 300 of each other. Janina still didn't even know a large number of them that well. The Psychons only had the two of each other, and now Maya had no one but Alphans. Janina was glad the lone Psychon was starting to feel others wanted to be her friends. It was clear Maya's desire for friendship was simple yet fundamental and deep.

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.

Hell of a way to spend half the afternoon, John thought with a sigh after Tony left the meeting room. Just what Maya didn't need, and what no one needed. Not to mention the total waste of time. In under a minute, Sanderson had just wasted person-hours of time. He shook his head. It was said nature abhorred a vacuum, and though not entirely true in literal or metaphorical form, it seemed that even a somewhat quiet stretch of time could find ways of adding chaos too.

He stood up and left, and headed to Medical Center, that maybe Helena was done with her work day.

He walked in just as someone was sneezing. Maya was apparently released some time before, and Helena was alone with one of the techs from NGA-2, presumably from second shift, which would have taken over from Crato and Cranston. The latter two had seen standing at the back of the NGA when John had arrived, and had witnessed some of the event. Of course, they were probably now spreading their version of the events. There was no way of containing that, and it was probably just as well to let it run its course, for better and worse. The only silver lining was that it had been in self-defense, and hopefully the rumor mill would at least somewhat reflect his own memo.

Helena's patient, who had sneezed as John walked in, had not noticed him. He sneezed again, and was scratching at his neck as he sniffled some more. If John didn't know better, it looked....

"I don't know offhand if that kind of cat is really allergenic," Helena said. "Perhaps that species or variety is."

"I am hypersensitive. Anaphalatic shock kind of sensitive--"

"I am aware of that," Helena said.

"I was going to say it does not seem to be that bad this time."

John had gathered the context, of course, realizing that the lioness could very well have been shedding allergens -- perhaps especially when kicked by Sanderson -- that the air filters had not yet dealt with by the time the shift change had occurred. He hadn't thought of this effect, and could understand the tech's irritation.

"When I signed up," the tech was saying, scratching the back of his hand now, "I was assured no cats were on Alpha and that I would have ample warning if that plan changed."

John couldn't let that one go by. "Well, when you signed up, we were all still in Earth orbit too. Things change."

The tech just about leapt out of his skin.

"Sorry, Commander. I didn't mean anything bad about Maya. I just was rather surprised by my reaction until I--"

"At ease," John said, recognizing at once that though the tech's wording was perhaps hasty, there was no ill intent.

"It didn't occur to me to check on this factor," Helena said. "If she does that again in a public area, I will keep you in mind. Hopefully it will be a rare event."

John watched Helena give the tech what was presumably an anti-histamine.

After John and Helena were left alone in Medical Center, she looked at him, and said, half-joking, "You're going to give one of my patients a heart attack one of these days."

"Sorry."

"I was starting to wonder about these sort of things with those transformations, and I guess I got one answer, that she can lose a slight degree of mass while in the other form and apparently not miss it, and that it does not revert when she does."

"I wonder if that would hold true of anything larger?"

"I don't know. Volume or mass does seem to make some difference in other aspects of this. Slight differences in the range of time she can hold an alter form. That at some later point of skill development, she could go directly from animal to animal in a moderate sized cage, to stave off the time limit; but that she can never do that in a small cage and would eventually be... what was the word she used?"

"Crushed," he said immediately, having found the term very memorable.

"Her metamorphic skills seem to have a lot more subtleties than I first thought, especially when factoring in that she is also still learning and improving her skills. A lot for us to learn about, but I'm sure there will be plenty to miss no matter how much we see or hear about it."

"Like missing the wrinkle of allergic responses."

"John, this is new to me," she said, protesting slightly, but starting to smile as she looked at his face and realized he was teasing her.

"Supper?" he abruptly asked.

"Perfect," Helena responded.

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.

One frame held not a picture, but a document of some kind, written in even more highly scripted cursive Alphan. It took more effort to interpolate, but she soon realized it was a formal marriage statement.

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.

"Good, I'm glad. I noticed you didn't care for the tomatoes."

Indeed, she had not been fond of the small orange spheroids they had pointed out when describing the foods placed in front of her. They were in the salad, and to Maya's surprise and bewilderment, the Alphans had lightly argued over whether they were a fruit or a vegetable, Bill believing they were the latter and Annette the former. The tomatoes sort of exploded in her closed mouth with a somewhat acidic taste and lots of almost slimy bits. They weren't really slimy, and she enjoyed foods that were more acidic than tomatoes; but something about tomatoes was vaguely unpleasant. It was strange, because Tony mentioned tomato was in the lasagna; maybe it was a different variety, or that it was fragmentary and cooked in lasagna, as opposed to whole here. "No, I am--"

"That's okay; I'd be surprised if you liked everything, and would not want to serve you something again you don't like. I don't know anyone who likes everything, even among their own culture's cuisine. In fact, I'm surprised you like this much."

Maya explained what she had mostly eaten for so much of her adolescence and all of her adulthood, namely mostly food'bars and salads, and that this was welcome new variety, along with a few things that tasted almost similar to remembered raw materials on Psychon. To the food'bars, Bill and Annette had a broadly similar reaction to Tony's. Her food'bars seemed to be something that elicited strong sympathy among Alphans, even from the very cautious Security Officer. It was almost tempting to use it that way, but she was not looking to generate out-of-context sympathy either.

She realized this reaction, and other things she had seen, told her a lot about the Alphans in one way. They appreciated good food, and especially appreciated sharing it in good company. How many of them counted Maya as good company, she did not know. She wasn't a very good conversationalist among Alphans, she felt, sadly enough; but Helena, Janina, and now Bill and Annette seemed to be tolerating this deficiency well, and she warmed at this response and the hope it gave her. Especially since sharing some meals with people was so very important....

The meal wound down, but they talked some more afterwards, until awkward silences grew more frequent, and Maya was trying to estimate a graceful way to start parting'talk in Alphan, finally just trying a simple complement: "That was a very snack-worthy supper."

She got a rather odd looks out of both of them, that she could not interpret for a moment. Then... "Oh, I did not mean to offend."

"Are you asking us for food?" Annette asked.

Oops, she thought, using an Alphan pseudoword she had heard them use once or twice, realizing either the concept or the phrasing she used was very wrong here.

In Psychon, it could elicit two responses from the hosts: "Thank you, we'll enjoy that" meaning they appreciated the complement but intended to keep the food for their own snack on that day or later, perhaps because the remaining quantities were planned for such; or "Thank you, please take some for your snack too," in which case the first person could say, "Thank you" or "Oh, please keep it for yourself." None of those question+reply+response chains were offensive to either side.

She had not gotten either expected reply, and seemed to have insulted them in some way, like she was demanding charity food. She quickly tried to pull it back.

"No, I'm sorry, I am not asking. It is just... an expression in Psychon meant only as a complement about another's food, which was maximumally tasteful. That is all. I did not mean it in a literal sense."

"Oh... okay."

There were some parting'words then, seemingly not awkward at all, them even saying they had enjoyed her company; but as she walked with a silent guard back to her quarters, she thought maybe they were just being overly polite, considering how poor of a conversationalist she had been and what was probably perceived as a rude demand at the end.

"That was a little strange," Annette said. "She was charming, mostly, but that's a first for me."

"Annette...."

"What was that about the 'thinning' and then asking for food?"

"I don't know. Maybe they're both Psychon metaphors."

"Okay, maybe the one, but how is asking for food a metaphor?"

"We apologize for burping; but in some cultures, a guest burping at the end of a meal is considered a compliment to the host."

Annette laughed. "You're just making that up. Sounds like something a man would make up."

"No, I'm serious."

"Where?"

"Where what?"

"I mean who? Which cultures?"

"I don't know. My point is that she's bound to have some points of greater difference on social protocol."

"So we should have given her some?"

"Well, they might have ways for the hosts to politely refuse too, like when we sometimes offer guests to take leftovers, and guests can politely refuse."

"So I might have thrown a compliment back in her face?"

"Well...." Bill was going to try gently moving around that one, but Annette clearly wanted his honest opinion. "Maybe."

"I should have probably just given her some, then."

"Maybe."

"Mr. Maybe.... I wonder how many of those differences she's going to drop on others."

"She's been awfully cautious, trying to give us lots of 'outs' from interacting further with her, I think. Besides, I suspect she had no graceful exit excuse handy on this occasion, like duty shift or being tired or whatever. She'll probably start stockpiling some extra ones."

"Oh, that sounds familiar. Wait a second. Pictures."

"Pardon?"

"She doesn't have a single picture."

"On the wall, the--"

"No, not pictures of Earth scenery, or geometry, but something more meaningful."

"What are you getting at?"

Annette smiled for a moment at Bill, then went back to a neutral expression. "She has nothing personal -- except for her dress."

"How are we supposed to change that?"

"What I am getting at is that she has no pictures of family."

"Well, I didn't see her running to Eagle 4 with a photo album. Oh, that was tacky."

"No pictures, and no other family to get any from."

"Maybe Psychons don't do that."

"Didn't you notice how drawn she was to our pictures?"

"Come to think of it, sure.... Maybe they did."

"I'm almost positive she did."

Back alone in her quarters, Maya doubted she would receive another such invitation from them, and estimated if she invited them over, maybe she would not get a positive response.

If she couldn't handle some simple meals, could she ever expect to be asked out to a french restaurant? She paused, wondering where that thought had come from. She had promised herself not to get socially greedy, but was she really now wondering about Alphan males wanting to demonstrate romantic interest?

For a decimoment, she imagined sitting across from Tony in a french restaurant, which for lack of any knowledge of such, she imagined as having orange plastic walls, consuming lasagna, biltong, corn, orange slices, and a soft drink -- or maybe that beer Tony had mentioned he liked.

She shook her head. Her thoughts were getting silly. Tony scarcely liked her that much, and except for some bursts of friendliness, was mostly just being very polite.

She sank into a chair, exhausted. Maybe today had been more a sign of things to come, rather than some of the prior days. Getting randomly attacked by someone, herself saying something insulting. Plus Tony back to being more distant again -- though he had been acting in her interest in the attack.

Every time she felt like she was starting to fly just a little higher above the ground, the winds came back trying to ground her. She felt like a flutter'flyer in changing weather, having difficulty seeing what was coming. Struggling to climb higher, only to be caught.... She was being dragged by living husks again. Why she had reverted, or why she couldn't change again, she did not know. She struggled, only to hear her father say, "It is too early to become a flutter'flyer. Small steps." Her small steps were struggling against a husk of Sanderson, as orange walls became white, and then he tossed her into a water storage room. She swam, with nowhere to go, as the metal door high above closed her into inky blackness. She screamed herself awake.

She had put her head back, and had fallen asleep. She jumped off the chair, almost sobbing in fear and frustration. Still exhausted, but not wanting to sit on a chair or her bed right away, for fear of sleep, she leaned against the wall and started crying a little, suddenly uncertain what her future really held. She could imagine a scenario of only being befriended by a sixteen or two of people, snarled at by a sixteen or two of people, barely tolerated by the rest, and herself randomly insulting people, however accidentally.

On the last, she could at least do something about this occasion. She logged into the Alpha Information System, and wrote an electronic post to Bill and Annette: "Thank you for the delicious meal and the invitation into your home. I enjoyed your company and kindness, and the food was very tasty. I am very sorry for the misunderstanding. It was a Psychon phrasing, emitted as a compliment. I used it incorrectly here, and will try to avoid such mistakes in the future."

R-353 DAB 0930-1230: Distractions

The next day, Maya was back to feeling very nervous in the hallways. The stares, always present, which had increased again after knowledge about her metamorphic ability was released, and were now even more frequent, especially today, since news had obviously gotten around about her defending herself that way. A few stepped up to show concern or regret over what had happened; but the rest had her feeling jittery again, in some ways almost as much as when she had first stepped onto the base.

She walked with Tony to breakfast, the only time in the week where her breakfast and typical Terran breakfast lined up -- sort of. At 09:30, it was a little late for them; but yesterday, Tony had asked if anyone had offered to eat with her, and when she had stated a negative, had asked if she had wanted to eat alone or with him. Fortunately, she had requested the latter.

So far, the thought of breakfast was the only bright spot in a miserable morning. She had awakened an hour before, and for the first time in a few sleep'periods, completely disoriented as to where she was, calling out "estrar" for the lights, only to realize where she was. She had been thankful for not awaking from a nightmare this time. She again thought of her father, but again had trouble dealing with her conflicting feelings about him, or what had happened to Psychon, or the aliens he had destroyed. She had fought to push back the thoughts.

Fortunately, there was the distraction of all the electronic equipment. She had written down guesses at many of the pieces of defunct equipment and circuit boards, as requested. She was already starting to use equipment from the tool'box to try figuring out some more boards. As simple as the technological base of this equipment was, trying to figure out the arrangements and purposes of equipment was very enjoyable -- fun really.

Yet sometimes, it made her think of how she had been learning back on Psychon, or working on various tasks, greeting the occasional hostile alien while failing to understand why they were hostile. Failing to question the explanation about the energy spheres transporting people through the "radioactive" pits causing temporary mental distress that led to hostility. Failing to question the nature of Psyche. Failing to question her father more than she had. She had so frequently asked about side effects, but had so readily accepted the answers. It had left her sobbing and fighting to push the images aside. Yet she was starting to think that confronting these memories was only way to make the frequent nightmares stop. She still wasn't ready yet -- certainly not today.

She was struggling to adjust to an alien environment, to absorb alien information, technical and social. It was a lot to absorb, especially when the aliens themselves so clearly had very mixed feelings about her, ranging from gratitude and/or friendship to distrust and even violence.

Feeling almost completely alone in the hallways full of people, she suddenly found herself talking more with Tony, trying to find any topic that would distract her from her own feelings and from the stares. She was not looking forward to the large gap in Terran first shift after'noon -- afternoon she reminded herself it was designated, no matter the shift and regardless how the word sounded like a contraction rather than compaction to her. The gap had appeared only recently, from someone cancelling or delaying a discussion session. Perhaps that person wanted nothing to do with her since she had shown her most unusual ability among more of the humans. She worried some people were now making a more permanent social judgment against her.

Yet Maya, despite welcoming some private time in other days, did not want to be left alone today. Of all the days to be seeking the company of people who were now less trusting of her.... Maybe she was getting greedy.

She and Tony sat down to share a meal in a nearly-empty cafeteria, eating breakfast, then, to her delight, continuing to talk well after the meal ended, mostly over future scheduling and some questions about the base and procedures which had arisen in her mind in the past few days. In some ways, a simple and familiar pattern of conversation around a meal'table was the easiest, and she was grateful some of them were willing to do this, since they could have just as easily given her supplies of food, instructions on how to prepare them, and left her on her own for meals.

That made it more difficult to leave the cafeteria, but they finally had to.

Tony found that seeing Maya with a bruise on her face 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.

Then, going around a corner, they almost ran into someone else, so Tony felt compelled to start again. This woman wanted little to do with Maya, looked very nervous about being near Maya, conspicuously avoided any physical contact, and soon found an excuse to hurry away.

As much as Maya seemed happy about the good introductions, she seemed sad but not surprised about the poor ones.

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."

He felt no concern over the trainer's reactions, but felt a little rushed by the abruptness. Yet when he looked at Maya, she nodded, appearing happy about it. He wasn't sure what his reservation was, given the perfect timing for all three of them. "Okay, fine, ten or fifteen minutes. How long do you have?"

"A couple hours."

"Okay, fine."

Trouble was, it was an open gym, and shutting it down just for Maya did not seem wise. They had not even considered that regarding the cafeterias, and though Maya was clearly more reserved and nervous in larger groups, there had been no real issue. He'd have to stay in the gym and provide security and introductions if others came in, but since he already wanted a workout, that worked well anyway.

Then he realized the other problem. Maya looked ready to go right that moment -- in her uniform. "Er, exercise clothes."

"Exercise'clothes? Oh, of course. I'm not sure if I have any. Can you help me look?"

Tony was not a shy guy, but rifling through the wardrobe of a woman -- alien or not -- he was not on such terms with was an awkward idea. There were a couple different exercise outfits for women; his mind went for the sexiest first, but he quickly moved his thoughts to the more common. "Er, shorts, maybe of a softer material, a casual shirt, and shoes rather than boots -- soft-fabric shoes." He wasn't sure whether those descriptions meant much to her.

She blushed a little, then, and said, "I'm sorry, Janina delivered some clothes early on when I was not yet in these quarters, so I do not have purpose descriptions of all yet."

He had caught her blush and seemingly-flustered half-apology. Was this an attempt to flirt, that she then decided it had not worked; or had her comment been innocent, like any of her other questions asked in trying to adjust to Alpha, and then realizing it was perhaps inappropriate female-to-male? For a moment, her awkwardness reminded him of his younger sister, when she was just starting to 'notice' boys and adjust from innocent childhood play to awkward awareness of new contexts. Just how long had Maya been left with no boys or men her own age to interact with?

He almost asked, but already feeling out of sorts, stowed it. Instead he said, "I could call Janina -- or Helena or Sahn."

"No, I think your description matches some items. If you don't mind me retrieving them and--"

"Okay." It was an easier compromise for Tony, and apparently for Maya too.

She retrieved sweatshorts, a t-shirt, and indeed even had a pair of running shoes.

"Yeah, those will work."

She disappeared into the bathroom, and emerged a few minutes later -- looking unexpectedly very cute in what turned out to be neither too-tight nor too-loose shorts and shirt. He had to pull his eyes away quickly to make it look like he was merely re-verifying the choice, saying, "Good, let's go." He noticed that she had changed her hair as well, which had been one of the more loose-bound arrangements he had seen, to something a little more tightly-bound -- apparently thinking it was more practical for a workout. If he hadn't observed how fast she was at it, back in Med Care Unit 4 on one of her first days on Alpha, he would have wondered if she did it via transformation.

He had to go to his quarters with her, and he felt increasingly awkward. He couldn't exactly make her wait outside. Then again, after he had changed, he realized maybe he should have just grabbed his clothes and taken them to the gym, where there were changing rooms as well. Maya could have too. Too late now. He usually changed in his quarters, not being shy about walking a few hallways in gym clothes and preferring that over carrying clothes around, and it had never occurred to him to do or suggest otherwise now.

When he emerged, he found her looking at pictures of Mama and Papa, his sisters, Guido, and other relatives. Tony, already feeling awkward about her presence here, was happy when she immediately came to attention.

He wasn't sure why he felt surprise when she looked him over. He didn't know what to make of her brief gaze, but quickly said, "Let's go."

Where there had been suspicious looks before, with some sympathetic ones, the number of curious ones, never entirely absent, increased again. Feeling a silly urge to make it seem normal, he started talking to her about this particular gym and the exercises available there.

They soon arrived. 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. Carl's observation about her seeming a 'sociable type' rang true, and it was proving helpful, even now.

Maya was happy to get to a workout again. Ten Alphan days without exercise wasn't a big problem for her physically, but after Tony had mentioned it, she realized some part of herself had missed doing it.

It was when she met Anna that she realized something else. Anna's eye structure looked a little different, and Maya found herself recalling Sandra, as well as another person she had met, and some more she had seen in the hallways. Mildly different eyes, and all had very dark hair. Maya was not interested in categorizing each individual Alphan by the two races she speculated were present, other than being mildly surprised at the fact and hoping they'd accept her as a third. Yet if asked, she would have categorized Sandra and some of those others as part of the Terran race having lighter skin color; yet now she thought there was a subtle difference on that characteristic as well. She wondered, Could there really be three Terran races? More maybe? Two races on the same world, while not rare, was not common either. Three races, she was not sure she had ever heard. She wasn't about to ask about their racial components, but she could only smile in hope. They clearly got along well, a good sign for her, that maybe they'd give her chance.

While Maya worked out, as she found out from Anna that the Alphans sometimes called exercising, Tony was exercising on some machines elsewhere in the room, and despite herself, Maya sometimes found herself glancing his way, but briefly, glancing away anytime Tony's eyes moved her direction or that Maya feared the trainer, who was giving time for Maya, would notice Maya's wandering attention.

When the one male left and another showed up shortly afterwards, Tony quickly came over; but it was the trainer who introduced Maya as Tony watched reactions. The man seemed nice, and went to exercise as well, in clearer view of Maya than the man who had just left. Now, however, Maya found herself glancing over at two different men at times, the latest partially out of the same uncomfortable curiosity, and partially out of wanting to further assess his reaction to her. Part of Maya was really starting to further notice how similar Alphan males seemed to fit her expectation of men, at least aside from their faces, yet how even their faces could be attractive, from the first moment she had seen a couple of them. She wasn't sure what to do with that realization, which was something of a small jolt. Meandering thoughts about this and French restaurants were premature at best, hopeless at worst.

Tony had stopped looking her way for awhile, but occasionally, she found the other man looking at her. Was he assessing her as a potential threat, as Tony had the first time, and many others since? Or was it simple curiosity? Or was he looking more at the trainer, and Maya's looking his way was drawing his attention, distracting him?

Fortunately, Maya regained some focus on the exercise, especially as it got more intense and difficult, and she started tiring.

Anna jotted notes on a grid, and noticing Maya noticing that, explained that it was an exercise'record, and spent some time explaining it, then said, "Well, you're in pretty good shape, or at least seemed to exercise regularly some in the recent past?"

Having gathered the alternate meaning of 'fit', Maya quickly assumed 'shape' had a similar alternate meaning. "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."

Maya was happy, but the other woman's expression seemed a positive and negative mixture, leading Maya to think she was not reading an Alphan facial expression well.

Of course, Maya received a lot of looks on the way to the travel tube, but she was learning to ignore the ones she was uncertain of, or just give a nod and tiny smile before looking away, to let them know she wanted to say hello even if they collectively had more mixed feelings. She'd catch some glancing at her clothing, more men than women, though the statistical sample was small. Today, after all, was the first time she was in the hallways in something other than an Alphan uniform since her arrival day in her own dress.

The jog was short and mostly silent. At one point, the Travel Tube conveyance rumbled overhead, but Maya had been expecting that possibility, and did not react.

Tony brought her back to her quarters, and outside her door, there was a wheel'table -- a cart -- with a microwave sitting on it, with a piece of paper on top of it. Tony stopped her short, hand to her arm, and Maya was surprised to realize that except for trying to throw her aside from Sanderson, this was the first time Tony had touched her since their handshake.

He took out his commlock and called Carl, who briefly verified it was from him, adding he had left a note.

Maya had no idea what that was about. Tony must have noticed, for he simply said, "Just being careful." About what, Maya had trouble guessing. Did he think it might have a weapon inside of it? Maybe he did. He was again trying to protect her. He indicated to proceed, and she picked up the note and read it aloud.

Maya, Hello. This unit came in non-functioning but probably reparable. A replacement unit was already available. Feel free to take this one apart and analyze anything you want, keeping my safety tips in mind. If you find the problem and repair it in the process, great. If not, that's perfectly fine too. If you have questions or concerns, please call. Carl van der Mir P.S. Take as much time as you need/want.

After taking a moment to realize P.S. must be some sort of after'thought sentence indicator, Maya couldn't believe her good fortune. The first device that served an essentially identical purpose as one on Psychon, but using different technology. It would likely make for excellent comparison analysis.

"Looks like you've got plenty to fill the afternoon with," Tony hypothesized.

"Yes, I do." Suddenly, after a good meal with company, excellent exercise, and a gift, some hours alone today did not seem so negative.

She let herself into her quarters, and Tony wheeled in the cart, looked around, then said, "There isn't much room in here, but enough for another small table. Would that be helpful?"

"Yes, please, it would."

Fifteen minutes later, he returned, back in a uniform, carrying a table. She ended up receiving another look over, apparently because she was still in her work out clothes.

Maya let it pass. She wasn't particularly shy about showing some curves, and here on Alpha, felt letting them see she looked much like them from the neck down could not hurt. Not that she'd go out of her way to do so, for she had a sense of modesty too; but she didn't mind the looks so far. In fact, she welcomed them, a little more than expected for some reason -- especially from Tony, who had been somewhat suspicious of her from the start.

Tony was about to leave when his commlock took that moment to beep for attention. They both soon found out that a different session could be moved to the large gap in Maya's schedule. Though anxious to experiment on the microwave'unit, she was ready to delay that, of course -- especially when she discovered the topic of the meeting that could be moved from next week to less than an hour from now: Main Computer Systems.

Tony looked to her, and she nodded, quite anxious to hear technical details about the Moonbase Alpha Main Computer, from a specialist.

Tony left, giving Maya a chance to prepare, and the remainder allowed her time to remove the outer shell of the microwave.

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, but instead of the alien, she found her thoughts lingering on the brief talk with Sandra that earlier day.

June and Sandra had both suffered losses to the Graktor: Sandra had lost Paul; June had lost David. June knew quite well the former were close, whereas June and David had only just started building a relationship. Despite the likelihood that a relationship between department head and assistant would have been very frowned upon back in Earth orbit, either no one else noticed, or no one had felt like interfering. Besides, their relationship had not gone that far yet, and even to the degree it existed, he was not taking advantage of an assistant, but she who had wanted to get closer first. Or again, maybe it was simply that many knew that he did not form relationships very easily, and post-Breakaway, no one had felt like pouring cold water on this one.

June had tried to reach out to Sandra, but found Sandra more in a self-cocooning mode, and June had not pressed, understanding that urge, which she herself sometimes had. Still, when Sandra stopped by to arrange the discussion session with Maya, June tried reaching out to Sandra again, and to her surprise, did get some small response, in the form of a brief discussion about how they were both "managing." It was nothing deep, but June found herself happy to talk even that little bit with Sandra, before discussion turned professional.

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.

"Okay.... It covers machine, assembly, and 3GSCL, so if you start learning all three, you should be covered."

"Rosetta stone," Tony mumbled. "Sounds good."

"Yes, it does," Maya said eagerly. Though Maya probably didn't know the reference, she apparently grasped the intention in context.

It was a heavy tome, but the main lists were near the front, and was presented first in a compact format, and Maya seemed ready to memorize that. June, however, pointed out that with machine code, since instructions and data and other constructs were all part of the code, in variable-length units, the main grid would not grant Maya instant understanding. Maya would have to take the book back to study it, including each instruction and its parameters and such in detail. Fortunately, there were backup copies of that book, as well as it being in Computer itself.

As the session -- clearly the first of what would have to be several -- wrapped up, June had a better understanding of what Sandra had been saying, and began agreeing with Sandra's suspecting Maya had computer affinity. Even David only read machine code in certain coding or debugging situations, though he preferred reading almost-raw assembly code more than any other person, compared to the higher level 3GSCL.

Of course, David had had even more direct access to Computer, something he dreaded and that few people, even in his department, knew about. Somehow, that seemed something Maya would never want to do, but her being perhaps being happy to interact with Computer in the next lowest area, a gap no one else went to much, was rather interesting and had potential, June had to admit.

June wondered if Maya as Science Advisor might end up translating to Science Officer at some point, and if so, whether the position would include oversight of this department. Question was, how much would the team/tech leads tolerate it if Maya took over lead of the department? Or would they just geek out over the idea of someone handling machine code and having new, alien ideas? Maya had offered little of such to June -- which she curiously found a little disappointing -- and nothing about what sort of computing they had on Psychon. Then again, maybe that was involved in the attack on Alpha. There was a lot to learn, though, for Computer was involved in virtually everything. June had covered more breadth than any particular depth -- but a lot more than she had expected, even after warnings Maya was quick with technical matters. Maya had asked a lot of questions, however, which was a good sign. How much would June herself like it? She wasn't sure.

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.

"How does hybridization fall into this?"

"That's just as difficult a question. She's got the same number of chromosomes as us, increasing the chance of an Alphan/Psychon child, which in turn could perhaps have a better chance of being fertile oneself, so maybe that throws the range wider." She drew a dashed-line circle outside the solid-line circle, then added another dot, outside that circle.

"You keep erasing dots for Maya and redrawing more of them."

"All of these circles and dots are uncertain; I'm just trying to show we don't know where these lines really are, and to simplify human races to small overlapping circles and Maya to a dot is a gross oversimplification, so I don't know where to place the dot. Any of these are possible. Actual human populations are sometimes thought to be of a relatively limited range, like perhaps there was some event that killed all but a few thousand of us, after which we started diversifying again. The fact that a Psychon even perhaps falls within either of these two outer circles 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. Why did he keep dating the most highly intelligent women, when he inevitably found them very difficult sooner or later?

Tony knew he was no dummy, but found the women he liked made things so needlessly complicated.

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. Helena mentally admonished herself for not talking to Bob before discussing this; Maya had not wanted to talk to Dr. Mathias, apparently not wanting to entrust deep things to a relative stranger, for personal or more likely cultural reasons. Helena had psychological knowledge, but if Helena had had a conversation with Bob, perhaps this reaction would have occurred to one of them. Then again, Maya would have undoubtedly still been horrified at the realization. How could one soften that further blow?

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."

There was silence for a few moments as Helena considered how to broach the next part of the topic. Then, a stray thought passed, and in a rare moment of stalling, Helena decided to use it. "There was even one set of twins."

"Twin what?" Maya asked, as if she thought there had been a change of topic.

"Twin boys," Helena said, though suddenly not entirely sure what Maya was asking.

"Two women having babies on the same day?"

"No, one woman having two babies on the same day."

"One woman having two babies at once?" Maya virtually echoed, her eyes slightly wide.

"It's not common, only one set in about every sixty-five pregnancies, but yes. More rarely, it can be more, like triplets, quadruplets, and so on."

With each number, Maya's eyes grew wider.

"Psychons do not have twins or such?" Helena asked.

"No, the extremely rare times it starts, it soon fails."

"Why?" Helena asked.

"A... the... dividing set of cells soon starts... emitting the... it is hard to explain... the metamorphic potential, or field... still not exactly right, but close enough. The mother quickly feels it, and--"

"How quickly?" Helena immediately asked, fascinated.

"Usually in a few days, depending on how good the woman's... metasense is."

It was easy to draw one conclusion right away: a Psychon woman didn't need a pregnancy test.

"So is it a problem for the mother to try carrying more than one child?"

"It is a problem for three or more... fields to co-exist. All Psychons have a nascent metamorphic field almost immediately, and fractional capabilities develop over time, even if they do not learn full transformation. The multiple potentials start interacting early on, more so as the cell cluster becomes a...." Maya looked at Helena.

"An embryo."

"Thus the... fields... I mean the... triple inte... treatray is...." Maya stopped and shook her head. "Let me try first explaining how a mother can carry one child."

"Please," Helena said, anxious to hear any explanation, even a half-coherent one.

"The mother instinctively knows how to both include the embryo in her own field, yet protect the embryo at the same time. A metamorph can even transform, molecularly disassembling the embryo's cells, yet not reusing their patterns, allowing the child's patterns to remain undamaged. A metamorph, just as she can disassemble some degree of inorganic matter and hold it or even transform it to some other inorganic matter, can also hold a child, but not for transformation into something else, only to hold the child until reversion."

Helena was utterly amazed. Some of what Maya said about holding yet protecting the embryo in connection with, yet also protected from, the mother, sounded like the metamorphic version of a placenta, the latter handling the baby's needs, supplied by the mother, yet protected from the mother's own immune responses. Somehow, Psychons included a sort of metamorphic version of it as well.

Maya continued. "In every thousandth... case, there are two eggs. Together with the mother, there are three metamorphic fields, and no matter what the mother may try to do or not do, that just does not work. No one really knows why that is the case, but we've always felt it remarkable that even one child works in the first place, and even allows for transformation -- until fourth quarter."

"Fourth quarter?"

"Psychon pregnancies last very close to eight Psychon... months, almost exactly half a Psyear -- Psychon year I mean. That is... about 9.1 Alphan months."

Helena looked at John. Another close similarity. Psychons even had a term similar to "trimester."

"During the first three quarters, the mother can transform, and many consider it wise to do so, to expose the baby to metamorphic abilities. How true or how much effect, I do not know: the full ability does tend to be more frequent in some family lineages than others, though no one is sure of the true factors. However, the mother can only transform for shorter and shorter periods of time as the embryo grows to a..."

"Fetus."

"... its field continues to... strengthen. By the end of the third quarter, she cannot transform anymore, and in the fourth quarter, the fields actively interfere, which is something of a headache -- sometimes literally -- for the woman." Maya abruptly smiled a little. "A woman at that point can get very irritable. When someone refers to such a woman as 'fourth quarter,' everyone understands; but if another woman is constantly irritable for no good reason, she is sometimes called 'fourth quarter' to point out they either have less of a reason -- or need to talk about the reason."

Maya smiled, and Helena figured it was a Psychon joke of some kind, so she smiled in return. As fascinating as this was, 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.... They could have told her that she would never be allowed to have a child with an Alphan, or even never be allowed to be with an Alphan man in any way. Yet they were leaving all of this and treating it as a natural possibility, that needed addressing, however unlikely to occur.

Maya herself found the hope was still there. After her own hopes of restoring Psychon, finding a mate, and having a child were slowly starting to fade in recent years, the new life to which she was having to adjust seemed to be affording some new hope of an unexpected kind.

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.

So though part of her was surprised to be considering possibilities of romantic and genetic compatibility with aliens, part of her was not. She assumed it was a pragmatic part of her -- pragmatic, if perhaps not entirely realistic.

F-354 DAB 0000-0900: Vital in Voyage

"I meant no harm," Maya said.

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.

The odd looks continued now and then, but there was nothing that seemed threatening, and the guard glancing over now and then did not seem concerned.

They eventually went to another Hydroponics Unit -- HPU -- to see some more process there. He greeted her occasional questions with annoyance, like he had a certain plan of discussion and she was taking it off course. So she limited her questions to those points he did make that she did not entirely understand.

The scheduled time ended, and 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."

"What about Reconnaissance?"

"Ultimately, losing them would damage our long-term chances. They are still important. Command. Various maintenance departments in Technical. Other departments too. Yes, it may seem a somewhat subjective line between most vital and the others I just listed, but the four I mentioned are considered most vulnerable. A Nuclear Generating Area was destroyed a few months ago. We're slowly building a replacement, away from the base; but that will take nearly a year, far slower than when we were in orbit. The Chief Architect... have you met him?"

"Alexander?"

"Oh, that is right, you have. He has been busy lately."

Maya knew at least one of the reasons.

"Oh, Maya, I am sorry. I did not mean to remind you--"

"It is okay."

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. Oddly, it was this that prompted him to seek out Dr. Mathias, to... talk -- uncertain whether it was right to use information obtained at such terrible cost. That it was as much about his feelings regarding his mentor became obvious later, and he was only now starting to emerge from his troubled thoughts, with some ways to go.

The price had already been paid for the information on the recordings, he had eventually started thinking, even as he was already probing it. It sometimes felt like shades of the question of whether to use any of the files that had come out of Nazi experimentation on Jewish people in World War II. 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.

There was little that could touch the crimes in the World War II, though some in World War III came close. Those were acts of sheer, hideously evil intent. The Queller Drive was an act of sheer, stupid, highly destructive negligence.

Dr. Mathias had as much as said so, in helping guide Jim to making that conclusion.

That did not always give him comfort regarding the little box from Voyager, and he sometimes dreamt of it being coated in blood -- of various colors. The blood was spilled on the box after it was made, though, whereas the Nazi medical files were soiled before the paper had even been manufactured, he thought in one of his more darkly "poetical" moments. The price had been paid, but it still had started taking a toll on Jim, especially while he was battling demons regarding his mentor.

The worst was the day he found the Sidons on the recording, and the damage Voyager caused was horrifying, but so were the Sidons' behavior, as far as he was concerned. Oddly, Jim's anger at the Sidons had started bringing him out of his dark places. It seemed the universe was as content to create mass murders in response to unintentional actions as it was on Earth. He didn't think the Sidons deserved their fate, at least not back there; but at Alpha, it had been necessary, for their attempt to destroy the three-hundred lives on Alpha and Earth, in nothing more than petty revenge, Jim thought, was the horrifyingly wrong answer.

The price for the recordings was extremely high, but it had been paid, Jim had kept reminding himself. It was small comfort, but this recording was not a luxury. It was not information that should lightly be destroyed, he sometimes thought. So despite Dr. Mathias suggesting maybe Jim should give the box to someone else, Jim had determined no one else should pay that toll, and that it would do Jim himself no good to abandon it. So he just slogged on, letting some small silver lining start emerging from Voyager -- and that helped. He wasn't sure how that would sit on his soul in the end, but it slowly started bringing his mind back from the edge of the abyss.

It was now months later, and he had started finally feeling like a normal person again, even if he had some ways to go. Thankfully, the box had brought him to many people, rather than away from them.

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. Even without Dr. Mathias saying anything, however, 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? Before he could think of saying anything, the expression faded without a word about it, and she invited him in.

"Okay, just for a second," he said. She expressed no puzzlement at the figurative expression. She sometimes didn't ask; but then again she could have heard it before and gotten an explanation. Rarely if ever did he need to re-clarify something that someone had clarified earlier.

"Excuse the mess," she said instead, "but I am in the middle of analyzing several things." He waved off her apology over a room that was not really that messy, and she continued, eagerly. "It has been very instructional seeing how a different technology is fulfilling the same purpose of heating food via microwaves."

He asked her describe what she had noticed, and much to his surprise, he found it was actually rather interesting listening to her talk technical details. Where he could follow what she said, he commented, or asked questions, and the topics soon drifted to other technical observations.

It was almost an hour later before he realized how much time had gone by. He felt immediately awkward again, the breakup with Lena fresh in mind and now having been in Maya's quarters for so long. He tried to beat a hasty but polite retreat, but was suddenly stopped by Maya asking if they could jog again soon. "Didn't Anna arrange a workout for next week?" he asked. She had, but it was clear Maya wanted some exercise sooner. He silently sighed. They both had unexpected time open, his own workout this morning had been brief, she had asked very politely, and he was now without a girlfriend who might react poorly. Besides, Tony could scarcely recall Maya requesting anything before. "Okay, why not. Take your time changing. I'll be back in ten minutes."

She smiled, saying, "Thank you."

For the first time, he thought of her as beautiful, before hastily adding, for an alien-looking alien.

As he left, he shook his head. He was guessing that after awhile, she'd perhaps have to fight off at least a few men with a stick. He had a feeling he'd be stuck in the middle of that too, somehow. If he, of all people, found her so attractive.... Of course, he had always gone for the foreigners.... He groaned inwardly, annoyed with his wandering mind. Maybe he should have extricated himself and just taken a nap, because he must be fatigued for his mind to be wandering like that. He decided that maybe he was just glad to see her smiling after that punk Haines had blasted away at Maya. A calm, happy Maya was easier on his nerves than a jittery or unreadable alien. Yes, that was for sure.

So they were soon jogging the almost empty under-Tube corridor. Her hair, despite a tighter arrangement, tended to move about a lot. He tried to distract himself. That's when something he noticed for some time occurred to him again.

"You know... you could... try learning... some small talk skills," he said, his words interrupted slightly due to the exercise.

"Small'talk? Do I use... overly-complex... terminology... combinations?"

"No, though I suppose... you could have worded... the last question, 'Do I use... too many big words?' Oh, don't worry about it, you're fine on that."

"I still... don't... under... stand."

He slowed to a stop, more for her benefit, since he had been setting a rather fast pace, and had been going for awhile.

"Small talk. After the initial greetings. Minor subjects. Kind of like talking about the weather -- though Alpha doesn't really have any, except for the occasional power drain somewhere that cools an area off. Small subjects you have in common -- or we all have in common. Ah ha, part of the problem. You could go for the 'Did you try the cheesecake in Cafeteria 1?' or something like that."

Maya shivered. "I did, and it was not... suited to my taste."

"Not bad. Actually, pretty good, and since you've liked just about everything so far, that will usually have a positive spin." After a pause, he added, "Really?"

"Really what?"

"You don't like cheesecake?"

"I've tried several desserts, and do not like any so far."

"From someone who wants her regular daily soft drink, and has no problem with all the fat the Texturizer injects into the pseudo-bacon in the Protein Production Unit...."

"It is the mixed matrix of simple sugars, more complex carbohydron... carbohydrates, and lipids."

"What?"

"I don't like them in such an intense combination."

"Rich desserts."

"They were expensive on Earth?"

"No. Hah, actually, they often were, actually. I meant... very filling and sugary for tiny quantities. You're not alone, actually. That's why there's a saying among some, 'Too rich for my taste.'"

"So I'm not the only one," she said softly.

"Haven't you tried the 'light' versions? They're labeled that way. I know they rarely appear, despite requests from some, but--"

"What would less'mass versions matter if I don't like the taste?"

This time, he couldn't help himself, and laughed a little. "No, not less massive, but a little less rich."

"Oh, no, I have not."

"Try looking for them."

"Thank you, I will."

"I've probably not been much help," he said.

"You have been a very fine help to me so far, Tony," Maya said with a simple smile.

He almost blushed at the highly unexpected compliment, then tried to parse it for any attempt to be too much of a sweet-talker up to something, but it seemed to be a spontaneous, well-meant statement. "Thank you, but I meant about small talk. I've been introducing people in the hallways, but not always mentioning something about them, or giving you little to make some small talk from."

"Oh."

"Just watch for clues. But go easy at first, until you get the hang of it."

"Go easy? Hang of it?"

"Umm, start slowly at first, until you get used to doing it."

"I understand. Some of my quickly-spoken words have created awkwardness."

They turned around, and resumed jogging, and she started asking about the Alkinarda and the further development of their mission plans. He rebuffed her at first, gently; but she got more insistent, and he finally said, "This really is not the place or time, Maya."

When he did not explain further, she got a confused and what looked like slightly frustrated expression on her face. "But I have not heard anything more. Is further discussion planned?"

"You've not exactly been... forthcoming with more information."

"I have been thinking of it, and I am frustrated... with myself over not having... paid more attention. I heard most of this material when I was much younger."

"No photographic memory?"

"I don't... understand." She was starting to get winded again. She may have run her shelter corridors, but obviously not that often or for that long.

He explained, and she explained it was all in how the data were presented and personal aptitudes. She was strong at reading in raw data very quickly, but regular prose still required a different way of thinking, poetry even more so. Only human, he suddenly thought, immediately finding it ironic, and frustrating. An alien with fast absorption of lots of things, a steel-trap computer mind in some ways, and gaps elsewhere.

She tried to talk more about it, but someone unaware of the mission planning was approaching, so he shut the conversation down. There was a flare of confusion and frustration on her face. Tony was not used to her doing anything but shutting herself down, and he grew irritated. After the other person was out of earshot, he finally snapped out, "A public jogging track is not the place for major mission planning where others may overhear small fragments and misunderstand."

"Others use fragmentary data to form distorted hypotheses?"

"Huh? Oh, rumor. What, Psychons never participated in rumor?"

"Only cautiously, with disclosure of likely distortion factors."

"Oh, fun."

"I don't understand."

"Never mind."

Her face seemed to fill with questions, but he had no interest in discussing the nature of the typical rumor mill, and how it both helped in his work and could add needless headaches. Maybe the Psychon way with rumor made more sense.

They jogged the rest of the way in silence, neither really looking at the other.

Later in the morning, John was looking at Tony with incredulity. "What, Haines told you Maya was useless?"

"Well, told me right in front of her."

"Dammit. Haines and his hair-trigger frustration. What did he show her before then?"

"Planets. Spaceships. Trying to identify them."

"Just identify?"

"Yes."

"From regions of space well away from Psychon."

Tony nodded.

John sighed. "There is a lot more on those highly-packed records. Sensor readings, any signals detected, a lot of data. He's been studying that thing for months, and all he wanted was some names?"

"I should have probably redirected the conversation myself."

"Well, that doesn't excuse Haines for not taking better advantage of his first opportunity to talk with an alien -- or for lacking manners."

"You want me to tell him to find better questions?"

"Actually, I will talk to him. He needs to correct his manners. He also needs to figure out some better questions -- on his own. There's no point subjecting Maya to him until he does."

"Well, he's still practically a kid in some ways. If you think Maya can provide some further or faster interpretation on that thing--"

"I didn't say I'd give Haines a lot of time to figure it out...."

Tony laughed, saying sarcastically, "Pity him."

John snorted a bit at Tony's remark, seeing some humor in it. Gorski would not have. Neither would Koenig before, but Verdeschi could somehow pull it off with respect, and this combination was one of the things he respected about the new first officer, minor as it was.

"How did Maya react?" John asked.

"What? Oh. She just took it during the meeting, though she did look a little upset." Tony paused, then added. "Maybe I shouldn't have, but afterwards, I prodded her about it a little, and she expressed some frustration."

"Good. I don't want her feeling like people can walk all over her professionally any more than attacking her physically."

"Well, if she goes the other extreme and becomes a total pain, we may end up with that arrogant alien thing."

"Maya? I doubt it."

Tony gave John a dubious look. Deciding not to try making a point that might irritate Tony, he simply said, "If we find ourselves approaching that bridge, we will cross it then. Deal?"

"Okay, deal," Tony said, apparently happy with the compromise. "Say, speaking of bridges, what about this whole Alkinarda and Kaskalon thing?" Tony asked. "I feel I've been a little more out of the loop...."

F-354 DAB 1900-2200: B-Movie Brigades and...

It was Friday night. Though libations were not in any sufficient quantity to swill, the number of movies that could be consumed over time was huge.

Some pre-Breakaway shipping records had been lost from Main Computer, and exploration of some of the Storage rooms had taken place after Breakaway.

One box turned out to be filled with many hundreds of disks and squares filled with thousands of movies. These added to the hundreds of titles which had been available. Perhaps someone in the ILC thought Alphans needed more relaxation, humor, vicarious thrills -- or maybe someone else had a huge personal collection that had gotten misplaced. One of the pilots who died in Breakaway had come to Alpha only days before. Maybe it was his. No one knew.

Yet strangely, it had taken awhile to catch on. Finally, some movie nights started cropping up, but also some movie-watching groups popped up.

One of the earliest such groups consisted of several men, including Tony Verdeschi, Carl Renton, Bill Fraser, Tony Allan, and Ed Davis. Tony being made an officer recently had not dampened the group, and his tendency of bringing his usually reviled beer, which was still consumed, reluctantly and slowly, probably reminded them he could still be "one of the guys." A different guy would pick a movie each time, and their collective tastes, while including some of the best, tended to be more than one third comprised of some of the campiest material. One time, when Tony had arrived, still talking with Lena, she had dryly, sarcastically, called them the B-Movie Brigade. The name had spread a bit as a joke but not very far before dying out, partially because of it applying to only a fraction of their watching, or perhaps because jokes did not always spread far on Alpha, even if perhaps the only one most had heard from Lena.

Bill wasn't so sure of the latest choice which Tony Allan had made: a simple monster movie. The more he watched it, with humans trying to be nice to some creature that reacted well and then later poorly, the more Bill's imagination jumped to Maya being around Annette.

Bill had reacted somewhat strangely to word of Maya turning into a lioness. Reading the memo had brought out a surprised reaction, but he had reminded himself that she had saved them. Hearing about the lioness had gotten to him more, and it was actually Annie who had picked up on it and tried to smooth over his reaction. It was a curious reversal of roles. She had even joked that maybe he watched too many B-movies. "Maybe," he had said lightly. The unease had passed, fortunately before Maya came to dinner the other night.

Now, he was sure it was the B-movies. He was glad when this one ended. He went to bed with a little of Tony Verdeschi's brew sitting uneasily in his stomach, and Tony Allan's choice of movie sitting uneasily in his mind. For the first time in three days, he woke with a nightmare. Strapped into a chair in an orange room, Psyche's helmet draining his mind, turning him into a zombie, trying to resist attacking Annette, only for Maya to show up, turn into something resembling the latest featured creature, and attack--

Fortunately, Annette was only stirring next to him this time, so he calmed her in her sleep, and she stayed asleep.

The last thing poor Maya needed was him losing his nerve about her, after all she had done. Maybe it was time to quit this group. Or maybe better, he had to fight to disassociate thoughts of her from watching the movie.

He wondered how many others were watching monster movies and making comparisons, silent or aloud, to Maya.

Alan Carter, though a fan of movies himself, wanted to hang out with the pilots in the Eagle Aerie Club instead, especially since it was a Toast night. Not all the pilots did, every time, for some would sometimes be on dates, with wives, watching movies elsewhere, or whatever. Any pilot, even if not assigned to Reconnaissance Section, was part of the Club, and could come in at any time. An orange sleeve was not a requirement. Most pilots did appear at least sometimes, some more frequently.

Discussion here mostly avoided Maya, but they were pilots, living a life they knew was higher-risk and might be shorter, and they didn't always mince words.

Alan could pick up ranting about Maya monsters, but more than a few jokes about other things.

"How can you date a different woman every week for a year, only break up once, and still need a new date next Friday?"

Alan suspected that maybe that was the more polite version of some other jokes likely quietly floating around. Alan had never minded participating in some of the jokes, but as he got a little older, found he was drawing a line in a different place, for himself. He wasn't going to begrudge the younger guys some of that, but as a leader, there was still a line he would not tolerate his people crossing. His pilots knew that, of course, so whatever they might have been saying in less public venues, they kept to themselves. Hopefully some people would look at Maya and see Maya, rather than all the forms she could take. Alan had found her charming and pretty, deserving of better than jokes even Alan found crass.

After jokes and fears about Maya faded out of the conversation with no particular resolution that Alan overheard, and moved to other topics for awhile, it was eventually the time for the Toast.

Everyone stood up, holding whatever they had to drink, whether it was a small quantity of alcohol or something else. There was a list of lost pilots hanging in the room, and each week, someone took the initiative to look whose name was next. It was a pilot's club, so while the majority of names were from Reconnaissance, some names, such as Paul Morrow and David Kano, were from other sections, but had been pilots and were thus counted in the list.

The two recent pilot deaths had been honored with a toast separate of this tradition, but would become part of the tradition when their names were reached in the growing list.

This week, it was Eric Sparkman's name. He had died before the main Breakaway event, but the list did not start with Breakaway, but with those who had died before.

One pilot took the center of the room. "Today, let us lift a glass in memory of Eric Sparkman, who we lost before this new journey of ours, and remember him." A few people shouted some good memories of Eric, fun or serious. At the first spontaneous silence, which then became a moment of silence, the man leading the toast clicked his glass against the next nearest person's. "To Eric Sparkman, the other pilots we have lost, and our other friends."

There was a lot of clinking of glasses, then, as part of the tradition, those gathered followed in one of the favorite relaxation activities of the deceased, if known. In Eric's case, two things were best known: cards, and watching war movies.

Last time he was remembered in this manner, everyone had played cards. There was little to bet, so it was just chips usually, and occasionally promises of some laundry "points" or similar such resources, giving up an item from one's allotment of being able to take some supply from a cafeteria, or other light IOU's.

This time, though, someone dug out a war movie from the expanded movie archive. It turned out to be a name not many people recognized, and apparently for good reason: it was something of a B-movie, So people yucked it up some to make it fun, as even Eric had done when he was alive. Someone yelled a question about whether this was going to become a B-Movie Brigade, using the fading nickname of a movie-watching group. After the movie, a few hung around to play cards anyway.

Though Alan enjoyed some light card play too, he found himself too tired this time. Carrying extra duties for the last few weeks, and the difficult Psychon encounter, he was not surprised to find he wanted sleep. On the way back, wondered how Sandra was doing, and not really knowing, since she had resisted his attempt to try helping her -- she had pushed him away, twice actually, and he decided it was best to accept that.

He hadn't been involved with a woman for a few weeks, and several faces jumped to mind, but he found himself feeling concern, for Sandra, and for Maya. His protective instincts, again. Of course, that he had always found Sandra attractive and was finding Maya attractive was not lost on him. Was he capable of separating out such factors, or had Sandra been right to push him away? Maybe some distance was best.

Maya knew it was Friday evening to the Alphans. Alphan week'end was starting, while she started her fifth Psychon-length day of the shared week, also designated as part of her week'end, along with first'half of her next day.

She tinkered with the microwave's components, experimenting and determining what each did on its own, and how they interacted, while she also sometimes thought about the last few days. There was a lot to consider....

Being attacked by Sanderson for nothing she had done wrong that she knew. Having to transform -- even encouraged by the usually cautious Tony. Janina still defending her even after that.

Having a nice dinner with Bill and Annette but scrambling an aspect of it. She had apologized, by electronic post, only for it to be politely brushed aside, and a second invitation made, with just Annette this time -- before Maya could even think to reciprocate the first dinner. Not that she knew how to prepare much of Alphan food yet. In the shelter on Psychon, most nutrition was provided by food'bars, which Mentor oversaw, while she oversaw the fruits and vegetables, which took effort to grow but little to prepare and present. Maya had accepted the dinner offer.

Her own unclear genetic status in relation to Alphans. Alphan children in the city as it was being attacked by her father. Suddenly, it occurred to her to wonder why she had not seen any Alphan babies yet. Where were they? She thought through her mental map of the Alpha city, and realized there were large parts she had not seen. With Alphans being attacked at times, maybe the babies were mostly kept in certain parts of the base deemed the safest. She had not thought of asking before, and decided it was probably best not to do so.

Her asking Tony to help her look through her dresser drawers for exercise'clothes. Not a proper thing to do, she knew; but in the moment, she had not realized the additional context until she had already made the request and apparently embarrassed Tony -- and herself.

Then there was Thomas and his warning about vital, touchy systems, and Sandra's supplementary information listing more vital systems. Jim and his frustrating rebuff. Tony defending her again.

In her first few days, she had felt almost numb, sometimes scared and sometimes exhausted, trying to understand even the basics of Alpha and some Alphans, while they tried to understand her even while some were uncertain whether to trust her.

In these last few days, some of the numbness and the rest had faded a little, but she was still nervous, still felt exhausted at the end of each half'day, and was now getting many mixed signals. Now, in retrospect, the numbness felt almost protective in a way, for some of the latest chaos was almost more difficult in a way than the more muffled impressions she got before, through the haze of her own shock.

Unfortunately, she found herself thinking more of Mentor of late, and the somewhat calming and soothing effect of the funeral was fading again in many ways.

Her nightmares, though not as frequent before the funeral and change to a more comfortable bed, were still difficult.

At least the Alphans were giving her a chance so far, and apparently weren't going to throw her out of an airlock.

Maybe it was just Alpha's night for lots of movie watching, though John Koenig did not know that. John had found a movie square, including several movies, one of which he thought Helena would enjoy, and they were watching it now in his quarters, after a dinner he had prepared. He wasn't much of a cook, and he did not feel as restricted by Alphan ingredients, as better cooks sometimes did, but Helena never seemed to mind that, instead appreciating the effort.

Theirs had been a slowly building relationship over the last number of months. From a somewhat icy start, they had warmed to each other after awhile -- more than expected. Yet at times, John was unsure how to proceed. He was no youngster, and liked to think he had some wisdom, but it was some of this "wisdom" (perhaps) giving him pause.

She had been a widow, yet had rediscovered her husband, in a manner of speaking, after years of not knowing and having lost some hope. It wasn't really Lee in some ways, and Alphan records made his death official. That something had happened on Terra Nova which Helena refused to discuss had made him wonder sometimes, too. So he had not pushed. At times lately, he was starting to feel restive to further grow the relationship, wanting more, yet not wanting to push Helena in the slightest. Sometimes, she seemed restive too, but he always thought maybe he was 'transferring' some of his feelings in that perception.

Tonight, despite the temptation to pick out "Casablanca" or another classic romance movie, he had opted for a light-hearted romantic comedy, and as they watched it, it clearly leaned a little more towards the comedy side than the romantic. There was nothing like love to make one feel like an awkward boy again, rethinking one's own decisions over and over, and looking for signs of approval or disapproval. Helena, though, seemed to enjoy the chance to laugh, something rare on Alpha.

Of course, there was something simple he could do in this private space, and that was simply to take her hand when the movie got to one of its somewhat more seriously romantic parts. That she accepted and squeezed his hand made up for his doubts about picking out something that if not a B-movie, was not far from it.

Yes, sometimes age did bring wisdom. The movie did not matter so much any more, so much as the gesture made and accepted. Two adults had both suffered difficult, tragic endings to marriages, but were finding another chance far out in space.

Sandra sat alone in her room, feeling the empty place in her heart where Paul used to be.

There were still all the good memories of him, of his usually calm, steady, straightforward nature, of his gentle concern and protectiveness for her. Yet the memories were difficult to revisit, for memories were not him, not his presence, just an echo of his being near her.

Sandra had lost her fiancé in Breakaway. He had not died, but she had accepted, surprisingly quickly, that her life had changed, that Earth was out of reach. Being an officer had put in her some frank meetings that had made it clear. She remembered Simmonds being restive over Alphan officers being so accepting of it. She doubted he had ever thought of himself or anyone else as an Alphan. He was all about Earth until he doomed himself trying to return.

After a few months, Peter had felt like a different lifetime. She had suddenly grown a little infatuated with Mike, but that relationship had barely started when he died.

Then she had started bonding with Paul.

Even at that time, she was aware she had caught Alan's eye too, but never gave him any encouragement as her relationship with Paul deepened.

Now, though, as she grieved Paul, she found herself grieving a little over Peter, and finding herself feeling a little unfaithful for having started a serious new relationship only a few months after losing Peter.

Overwhelmed with a welter of swirling thoughts, she had pushed Alan away when he tried to reach out to her not long after she lost Paul. After one mild attempt at persisting, he had -- perhaps a little surprisingly to her -- backed off. She had felt uncertain about his motives, knowing some were genuinely platonic but not being able to forget his prior interest. Now she was uncertain about having pushed him away. Alan could be rough around the edges, could be a goofy guy sometimes too, but he could be strong and steady in some ways. Then again, maybe the last made her think of Paul again. Now she was left with no one strong to lean on. Maybe she needed to be alone for a change instead of instead of so quickly finding comfort in a relationship with another man.

At moments like this, though, she was not so sure about that. She did not like feeling alone.

Then again, maybe she should have reached out to talk more with her female friends. Exchanging a few words with June were barely a start. Sandra had retreated, practically leaving herself alone.

She was not scheduled for any duty tonight, but when a maintenance alert came in, she found herself welcoming it. There was no reason to bother any of the other officers when she was available... for more duty.

A-355 DAB 1700-1830: Non-Mirror Images

Annette's invitation to Maya for another dinner was this time for just her and Maya.

Almost charmingly, Bill had been concerned whether Annette, whether she would be nervous about being alone with Maya. Bill knew Annette's strengths well enough, leaving her thinking maybe this too was one of Bill's recent, sometimes off-kilter responses regarding Maya, probably in part from more post-Psychon nightmares and those silly movies he had watched as a child and now sometimes here on Alpha. It was not a serious counter-reaction to Maya, but seemed to be triggering an over-active concern over Annette.

Somehow, the part about Maya being a metamorph did not bother Annette at all at this point. Even she found the strength of her second reaction to Maya surprising, but welcome.

While not quite having to shoo him off to the Eagle club, she did want to show she was calm, and instead asked him a question. "Toast Night there?"

"No, I heard that was moved to last night at the last second."

"Did you hear for whom?"

"Eric Sparkman. I never knew him -- died just before Breakaway. He liked card games and war movies. Tonight has no structure."

"Well, enjoy," Annette said. She thought it was amusing for a moment, to encourage him to go to a 'club' -- but with how little alcohol there was on Alpha, it was not like she was pushing him to go pubbing. Bill had told her at some point early in their relationship that he scarcely drank anyway.

With him gone, she changed her focus. Annette had rapidly recovered from her bothered reactions to some of the odd things Maya had said at the end of the supper earlier in the week. Supper tonight was technically at Maya's 'snack' time, ironically enough, but Annette decided not to reduce the portions. Maya could take some leftovers for a future snack. There, awkwardness will be smoothed over, she thought.

Maya was brought over by Tony. They both seemed to smell the food right away.

"Well, Maya, that food smells way too good to just call it a snack," Tony joked.

Annette could see Maya give Tony a funny look, her mouth hovering near the appearance of a smile, but seeming to hold back, like she wanted to laugh yet couldn't tell if it was a joke or somehow critical.

Before Annette could think further, the microwave beeped.

"Well, if there is nothing else..." Tony said, then separately looked at Annette, as if checking she was still comfortable with this plan. Annette smiled to respond to the unspoken question and shook her head in response to the spoken one, then thanking him and waving Maya in as Annette turned to head to the microwave.

They were soon eating, and the conversation was pleasant, Annette increasingly prodding Maya for reactions about the base and procedures, suddenly finding it interesting to hear the perspective of an outsider.

Maya took longer to give any compliment on the meal, and when she did, there was no trace of a Psychon saying, just a rigorously neutralized yet still genuine-sounding statement that the food was very tasty -- except, on Annette's prodding, a statement of disinterest in tea. Though Annette liked coffee, she was very old-style British in preferring her tea, but took no insult. It was Alpha, after all: tastes varied widely. Annette was curious as to Maya's specific opinion on tea; but Maya refused to list it, evidently fearing another misunderstanding. Annette persisted, and found even Maya had her limits against her driving for an answer.

"We had something very similar to tea on Psychon. In fact, I already knew the Alphan word for the drink."

The answer was incomplete. "So you don't like it because...?"

"Personal taste. It seems like nothing more than strange-tasting water to me."

Annette laughed. "You're not the first non-Brit to say something like that. Well, I am glad you enjoyed the rest. I will set aside some leftovers."

Maya looked surprised at that, but fortunately said nothing at first, then just humbly thanked Annette, accepting the gesture without rattling around any awkward revisiting of the prior dinner's end.

After the meal, Annette insisted on clearing out the dishes and such by herself, intentionally giving Maya nothing to do but look around the room for a little bit. Sure enough, once again, the curious alien was drawn towards the various pictures of family members and friends of hers and Bill's that were in the room. For awhile, they chatted about how Annette had drawn or painted some of them. Annette was now happy with her idea. So finally, Annette broached the topic.

"Maya, I would like to do something for you."

"For me?" Maya's eyes had widened in surprise, like every little nice gesture towards her was a heart-warming surprise -- and Annette had not even described what yet.

"Sure. It was not difficult to miss the obvious fact you have no pictures of family in your room." A strange expression came over Maya's face, one Annette could not readily interpret, but perhaps one of sadness mixed with curiosity. Annette continued. "I would like to try to paint a picture of your mother, if you don't mind."

That brought a very surprised look to Maya's face. "That would be nice, but why?"

Annette laughed, and avoided the question, simply saying, "Would you like that?"

"Yes, I would, very much."

"Then maybe we could talk about her appearance a little. Did you and she have some resemblance? I know you're both Psychons, of course, so what I need are the fine-level details."

It was a small struggle, and Maya soon admitted to not being used to describing faces with enough accuracy for an artist. The Psychon eventually asked to see the bathroom mirror, to help her visualize and describe better. Annette walked over to stand on the other side of the bathroom doorway, which Maya left open, so Annette could see Maya's face in the mirror as she described the comparisons. Maya's descriptions eventually drifted to more comparative to her own face. Her mother had slightly smaller eyes, the slightly shorter eyebrows typical of many Psychon women older than Maya. Same for the cheek shading that grew in early adolescence but also started shrinking -- but would always be present -- not much later in Maya's life. Same height and shape in general. Other details.

Annette was trying to absorb all of that, not so sure how much this was helping. She was not really used to drawing from descriptions, however comparative; she usually had photographs or the person herself.... Then it occurred to her, and she wondered why it had taken her so long. She thought through it, remembering one of the Commander's prohibitions about idle curiosity. This was not that, however. "I think we are both forgetting an easier way. Can you transform into her?"

"In front of a mirror?!?!" Maya shrilled, the last almost in a sound of horror, her reflected face looking shocked.

"Er, no, never mind," Annette quickly said, wondering if she had stepped into some sort of social prohibition or even a metamorphic taboo of some sort. Then she changed her mind again, wanting to figure this out. "Actually, what is wrong?"

Maya looked directly at Annette and in a calmer voice, explained: "Metamorphs mustn't be transforming into their... deceased relatives or friends for the purpose of looking upon them. It is not allowed. Dangerous... psychologically."

Oddly, despite the complete alienness of molecular transformation, what Maya was describing made perfect sense. "You don't want to become obsessed with literally seeing those who have passed on."

"Passed on? Oh... no, exactly. There can occasionally be reasons to emulate them, but not for one's own -- or another's -- psychological... selfishness."

"That makes perfect sense. Then can you transform into her away from the mirror?"

"Yes," Maya said, far more lightly, as she walked back into the main room. "As long as I don't look at myself directly."

Annette smiled, glad she had persisted, and pointed Maya to the chair as she turned a new page to try a more direct reference sketch, which could hopefully later inspire another work. She was glad that the prohibition against directly looking at the form of a deceased family member did not extend to looking at pictures of such, or transforming for the sake of creating the latter.

Annette could only watch in fascination as Maya's form fuzzed, then vanished into a haze of light, then appear in a slightly new form -- and clothes -- as the light and then haze faded. After the startlement wore off, Annette took in the woman's face, which clearly bore a lot of resemblance to Maya's but was still distinct, with a slightly narrower face, sharper uplift to the slightly shorter eyebrows, even more hair, which was a different shade of reddish than Maya's auburn. Annette found age a little difficult to judge in this case.

Two years ago, Annette had only dreamt of a posting to Moonbase Alpha. One year ago, she had been there only a month, scarcely knew Bill at all, and could see the Earth out a window every single day. Now, she was deep into the universe, married to Bill, had no choice but to call Alpha home, in a way, and was about to sketch an altered form of a shapeshifting alien that now had to call Alpha home too. Annette had always had a quiet strength, but an emotional streak too, and was delighted at how fast she found herself adjusting to new situations. That one of those challenges was the alien's own father, and Annette had given Maya a very chilly reception, but was now befriending Maya and planning on painting an image of Maya's mother as a gift, made Annette happy. She didn't like being separated from Earth and family, but she had learned fast she had to move on. This picture was something Annette wanted to do from herself, but which she also realized was another sign of her own strength.

From drawing random things to drawing lost crewmembers -- and art for a friendly alien. Who'd have thought?

At first, Annette wasn't sure how to address the being in front of her, then decided.... "Maya, what was her name?"

"Taylia," she said, still with her eyes closed. Annette would need to see her eyes. She asked her to open her eyes, and Maya insisted on standing. Annette gave her approval, realizing the prohibition perhaps implied not seeing even part of the other in this sort of context. Annette rarely tried more than head and shoulders anyway in the final drawings; but in the reference sketch, did the full body, in case she did more, and had pointed out the chair so the woman could be more comfortable. Maya/Taylia opened her eyes, and Annette found out Taylia had had the same blue color to her eyes as Maya.

The whole situation again struck Annette as really unusual, but as she sketched, she found it a little therapeutic to do this. Drawing pictures of lost Alphans had quickly become a way for her to deal with emotional pain, just as it was her way of giving to others. Drawing a picture of the mother of the woman who had helped them, the woman who Annette had not initially greeted kindly, the woman whose father had captured Annette's husband and by extension caused Annette some distress, struck Annette as a good thing to do on several levels.

She sketched for awhile, almost forgetting that the person in front of her was both an alien and someone not even in her own alien form.

Annette was not good at making conversation while sketching. She sketched the living sometimes too, and usually tried to find something for them to talk about, except when Annette needed to sketch the subject's mouth and jaw line better.

She wasn't even sure what to talk to Maya about, but fell back on a variation of her usual standby. The reason for live sketches were varied, but most often involved one or both halves of romantic couples, a few of whom would ask Annette for a painting of them. Regardless of the case, Annette had, over time, found inspiration in getting them to talk about the other person for which the request was intended, so Annette could see a more interesting range of expressions, and 'hint' her study sketch in various ways to later pick something for the actual picture. This wasn't the same situation, so Annette thought for awhile, then started asking Maya to describe memories of her mother, of Taylia and Maya interacting. Maya was surprisingly obliging, nothing really truly deep or personal; but just as Annette had asked, for some memories of Taylia. Although Annette occasionally heard bits of alien reference points, such as jumping into family spaceships to visit someone halfway across the planet for a meal, or of molecular transformation, or something scientific -- the whole family seemed rather science oriented -- or something cultural, what Annette mostly heard was something utterly recognizable: relationships, family, love.

"I can only hold this form for 58.9 minutes from the start."

"Sorry?" Annette asked, her concentration broken by a piece of information quite out of the prior context of discussion.

"There are limits to how long I can hold the form of something I transform into. I only have sixteen minutes left."

"Actually, I was almost done."

Maya did not resume any discussion about Taylia, which was fine with Annette, wanting to see a more neutral, still expression again.

Annette looked over her reference sketch. Someone had told her once that she could have gone into forensic sketching, but coming from someone that was neither an artist nor in law enforcement, Annette had never known what to make of that comment. So she sometimes found it curious that she was often drawing individuals who had passed on. The irony of this particular case flitted through her mind.

Annette was satisfied that her reference sketch was a suitable one, so she told Maya/Taylia that she was done. Maya reverted, which sort of looked similar yet different process at the same time -- less of the fuzzing light and more fade out and in, though she wasn't sure. It was all new to her.

Things wound down, and Annette called Bill. Maya thanked Annette again; and it was clear Maya would welcome the picture. Bill returned with Alan, the latter armed. Bill stayed, Annette handed Maya some leftovers, and Alan returned Maya to her quarters.

A little later, something else occurred to Annette. "Bill, do you know what kind of picture Maya is also missing?"

"What, honey?"

"She also has no picture of her with new friends here on Alpha."

"Well, that one is easy. Just have her pose with us, Alan, Helena, the Commander probably, Tony maybe--"

"Bill, that's not easy, that's just silly!" she said with a sassy smile. "Just pose her with a couple people, and make her smile? What kind of memory is that?"

"Oh, of course. A candid shot, at some point where she's genuinely happy."

"Have you ever seen her like that?" Annette asked.

"That much? No. Small smiles, here and there, that I have seen -- though ironically enough, already more than a lot of Alphans I know. She seems the type who wants to smile rather easily."

"Exactly, like she is still in shock, and only partially recovered."

"Or like she's afraid of letting loose and getting a disapproving reaction," Bill speculated. "Alan says he and Tony -- when he's in a better mood -- keep trying to draw her out, to limited success. She's alone among us, and sometimes I think she feels like she needs permission to join us, in just about every way."

Annette paused, recalling Maya's half-frozen reaction to Tony's small joke, then said, "Interesting. I never thought of it like that before." She then smiled, saying, "Very perceptive for a man that was just going to have her line up by a wall with a few of us and call that a happy memory."

"Now that I gave you that one, you're not going to forget it for awhile, are you?"

Annette laughed. "Are you kidding?"

Bill rolled his eyes. Annette was already determined that he definitely would not hear the end of that one for awhile, at least not until Maya had a better picture than that in her hands.

"So what would you suggest, a party or something?" he said, off-handedly, flippantly really.

Annette brightened. "That is simply brilliant. Arrange a party in Maya's honor; yes, I like that."

"What kind of party?"

"Does anyone know when her birthday is?"

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.

Conversation was still back to awkward between them after their discussion on the jogging track below a travel tube had turned almost into an argument. She still only partially understood it. She had violated a protocol, but wasn't sure what to do about it.

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, as Tony took Maya back to her quarters, it still being week'end for both of them, the conversation went into a lull, and as they walked around a corner, and Maya nearly ran into a woman with dark, neck-length hair. Maya backed up, and looked at Tony, while seeing the woman also look expectantly at him rather than nervously at Maya, which Maya had learned was usually something of a good sign.

"Er... Lena, this is Maya. Maya, this is Lena Andreichi. She... is a botanist."

Lena had a strange expression Maya could not interpret, but when she focused on Maya, a partial smile appeared, and they shook hands.

"She... er, grows some of the plants you have in your... room," Tony said, garnering another strange look from Lena, and Tony quickly adding, "and around the base."

Since Tony had given Maya some subject material for small'talk, she was going to use it, commenting on plants and asking more questions about Botany, even though she knew she was scheduled to meet some other woman from that department in a few days. Abruptly, though, Maya felt awkward. Something about this meeting, while not negative, felt strange, and she had no idea why.

Tony stumbled through another statement, and there was more silence, until Maya finally offered, "The plants around here are very pretty."

"Hmm, thanks."

The meeting soon ended, leaving Maya baffled, but doubting it would be wise to ask what had happened.

Back in her quarters, Maya wondered if she would be talking to Lena much. Maya had met a lot of people, but there were a lot of people in the city, and she was already noticing some she had met she had scarcely seen again, and even many of the ones she had seen, she had not talked to further, other than some simple greetings in the hallways.

Those she was in discussion sessions with had mostly been people with greater authority. Authority on Alpha was a slippery concept she doubted she would fully understand. The sleeve system, though simple in theory, seemed to be very complicated in practice; but authority even more so.

There was the Commander, who was very similar to the Psychon concept she translated to Alphan as Leader. One difference was the Commander seemed invested with more authority than a Leader. Yet he listened a lot to his Officers, like Tony, Helena, Alan, and Sandra. Officer was, as best as Maya could figure, somewhat analogous to a Psychon detraziran, a heavily compacted former contraction standing for a phrase in older Ancient Psychon, which as best as she would be able to translate to Alphan was: "partial leader of a sub-group of people in a similar discipline."

Detraziran was a nebulous concept, however, often used in ad hoc ways or for momentary situations or temporary teams. Alpha had team concept too, though the more she learned, the more variation there seemed to be from section to section, department to department, or even team to team. Their meanings were thus metamorphic too, but in a different way.

Then there seemed to be a military structure in parts of Alpha. She intrinsically had little understanding of such a structure to start with, but the Alphan application of such only seemed to be partial and even more elusive to her. Captain Carter Pilot had been part of military teams, yet some pilots were non-military. She already knew Tony was former military turned civilian. The Alphan word officer even seemed to have originated from the military, according to one uncertain Alphan. Yet Sandra, another officer, was not military.

Then there was the mysterious comment by one Alphan that some structure was "loosening up" while new structure emerged. The structure here seemed semi-permanent yet sometimes changing, but like the Alphan language had struck Maya as perhaps agglutinative, Alphan organization seemed extremely conglomerated.

Besides that, there was a concept called seniority, which while somewhat analogous to being "wise in one's field," also seemed to have various alien implications here.

Maya could only follow the instructions of people she knew had authority here, or sometimes more simply those who were working with Maya that she knew had greater authority or authority over Maya's role.

So far, other than Jim Haines, whose role seemed in flux, and one or two others, Maya had talked to a variety of department leaders. Lena was apparently not one of those. At least Maya had a grasp on section leaders, who were the officers, except for Technical Section, which apparently lacked a detraziran due to death of a person named David Kano.

Maya's thoughts wandered for awhile. 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."

Alphans seemed to do a fair amount on the basis of forms. Not long after Helena had started filling out a large one of medical data, which was understandable, Sandra had given Maya an Alpha Moonbase New Resident form to fill in, a formality she did not entirely understand. It asked for a few of the same pieces of data Maya had already offered Helena, such as name, date of birth, prior residence, and some other basics, but also a Reason for Joining Alpha line, which she filled in, simply but with a pang, "Destruction of my home'world." She had had the urge to mention how she wanted to help on Alpha, but there had been no room on the form. The basic fact at the time had been she was on Alpha because her world was gone, and she had been offered a home here. She had had to fill out a Victim Statement form about the assault and battery on her, describing, from her viewpoint, what had happened. She had practiced Alphan cursive writing, and had found that applying her own Alphan signature was something many of these forms demanded. Now there was a form to apply for Eagle flight training. Still, she saw the sense in most, if not all, of it.

"I understand."

She looked down to spear another piece of pseudomeat, and when she looked up, she thought she had a glimpse of the commander looking pleased. Then it was gone, making her doubt she had interpreted the human correctly, yet making her feel happy that her action was apparently well-received.

Later in the day, in Alan's quarters, he logged into AIS and brought up Work Station Access. Alan was a fun-loving guy, but at least once on most of his "weekends" (which sometimes fell in the middle of a week if there had been some crisis on the prior weekend), he'd usually check to see what topics he might need to deal with when getting back to work. He did not consciously think about them, most of the time, but he liked going into the day after his weekend ready to hit the ground running.

Urgent problems would of course come via commlock, unless some supervisor misjudged the importance of something. That this had happened a few times with Pete Garforth had been one of the problems with him.

There were a few messages, most short enough to read on the screen, but one showed up as a form he recognized, though the little screen could not display the text well enough to read efficiently, so he sent it to the wide-printer, and retrieved the sheet.

He immediately looked for the name near the top: Maya. He smiled. This should make for interesting reading.

VOLUNTARY APPLICATION FOR EAGLE FLIGHT TRAINING (MAIN FORM) Name.....: Maya   Birthdate: -9124 Days After Breakaway = 1974'09'20 Earth AD   Curr. Age: 9480 Days   Section..: Technical   Title(s).: Science Advisor   Summarize all prior flight experience, civilian and/or military, whether certified, in training, or merely simulation (be brief but as complete as possible): | | & Aldi'neelka class (family'grade superluminal courier grade): | given controls in'flight at subluminal and superluminal | velocities in Psyoliyask system at age of ~10.1 Terran. | & Aldi'neelka class: take'off practice ~12.03 Terran. | & Alni'trakada class (atmospheric winged anti'gravity atmospheric | and sub'luminal glider): take'off and flight practice, 13.877 | & Aldi'neelka, planetary landing practice, 14.554 | & Alni'trakada, landing, 14.655 | & full adolescent-level permission on Aldi'neelka: ~14.77 | & full adolescent-level permission on Alni'trakada: 15.94 | & full simulation runs on 12 alien space'craft types: | 17.711 - 25.763 Terran. | & partial simulation of 10 more various alien: | 17.711 - 25.763 | \   [ ] Check if further information must be elaborated; and submit VOLUNTARY APPLICATION FOR EAGLE FLIGHT TRAINING (SUPPLEMENT) APPLICANT: Stop filling in data here. Electronic posting of this form with above data filled in constitutes an initial signature. Final signature will be obtained from applicant after other signatures are obtained. An interview with Chief Pilot and Commander or First Officer will be required. A medical exam also required. Posting this form is also an affirmation by you that all information presented is current / correct, to the best of your knowledge. Chief Pilot signature:   DAB:   Medical Section sig..:   DAB:   Cmdr. or F.O. sig....:   DAB:   Applicant final sig..:   DAB:

Alan chuckled at how many of her early answers were either a lot shorter or a lot longer than the space given, and about her listing age in days, even after listing an Earth year. Did any adult female in the universe want to say how many years old she was?

Plus, whatever part of Psychon grammar dictated throwing apostrophes -- or some Psychon equivalent to them -- seemed to be giving her a curious and amusing tendency to throw apostrophes all over English too. She used almost no commas here, and ampersands instead of asterisks. It wasn't a spelling test, though, in other applicants, he would have been questioning the person's abilities to learn. English was apparently a second, or twentieth or two-hundredth language to her. He frowned. It was a wonder she or any alien even spoke English at all. She did, though, so he set that aside and looked again at the list of ships.

He had no idea why the word "courier" was injected into the middle of a description of a "family" spaceship, and the nearest he could figure from her run-on description of the Alni'trakada is that it was a winged craft propelled by some anti-gravity system in atmosphere, and a short range spacecraft out in space -- not that much different than an Eagle in some respects... perhaps. "Full permission" he accepted for now as equivalent to certification, though he decided to check that and other things during the interview.

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. 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....

Though now Sunday evening and thus still part of the week'end to most Alphans, Maya's work week started Sunday evening. She currently had a day-and-a-half of her length of days "off" -- starting Friday evening.

Not scheduled for any meeting on Sunday evening, however, she started much like she had spent a good portion of the week'end: playing with electronics.

She had spent several days disassembling the microwave, guessing at function of pieces, looking up others in written material Carl had given her, running tests on individual pieces, asking questions of Carl, who was unfailingly polite in responding, and was starting to put a few pieces back together even as she continued further breaking down some others. She had found what she suspected were some of the points of failure of the device which had landed it in Carl's lab and now Maya's room, but it would be a short time before she could start attempting solutions.

She was still learning. Yet at the same time, she was starting to extrapolate, and think of other ideas. Already, Maya was tempted, as soon as she got far enough, to try adding some sensors into the microwave, for self-shutoff at a specified internal temperature. There would have to be some circuitry enhancements, and a way of shielding them from the metal'spark effect without shielding the sensor from doing its task. She liked the idea, and started going back through the supplies she had. Some parts she had, but the more she thought, the more she knew she did not have. It was not urgent, so she left Carl an electronic post, asking as humbly as she could whether he had more defunct supplies he would be willing to give to her, and indicating she had completed a 'guess list' of the first batch.

She decided to practice some molecular transformation for awhile. She had almost completely neglected that for a few days, since transforming into the lioness to defend herself and fearing a backlash and receiving some bad signs afterwards. She had practiced a little, not enough to really help advance any subskills even a little. Her heart was just not in it at first; but tonight, she felt anxious to continue. The ability was just too much a part of her now, and the Commander had already made it clear he welcomed this skill and wanted her to use it.

She also decided that after that, she would rearrange the material she was gathering in her room. There was getting to be a lot of it, and was now poorly arranged. Maybe not quite messy yet, but definitely in need of reorganization for maximum efficiency. Besides, it would be good physical exercise and remind her of some of the other fragments of technology she had not yet explored much -- and maybe give her other ideas.

She now had enough to occupy herself for the rest of her day, since her week'end had actually ended with her nap, and her work week started with second'half today. Besides, the work kept her mind off other, more difficult matters, though she found herself concerned about long'sleep tonight, since the dreams were starting to re-intensify some.

Sanderson had appeared in one, dragging her off to an airlock, while she fought in every way but metamorphic. Thinking back, she thought that made no sense. She would defend herself that way too, again, if she had to. Still, that had not stopped her from waking with a scream. She might not be thrown out by someone in authority, but if someone shot her and.... Even just thinking about the nightmare got her heart beating. She tried to recall more of Dorzak's poetry, but couldn't. Tried for someone else's, but could not at the moment. Then she remembered one of the books in her room, a slim book of poems she had not noticed at first. Maybe a little human poetry? Why not? One title inside intrigued her, so she turned to the referenced page.

Tale of a Tree Tested

Seed of a small germination,
the nut that is not insane,
but the future of the forest.
Growing, tested and infested,
yet strong and patient,
sometimes chewed upon,
more often clean and fast
in its own patient way as it
chews further into dusky sky,
a silhouette of strength.
Mighty Oak, see it seed out.
Not nuts, just lots of nuts --
but which will repeat the feat?
Even void of leaves in the
Winter of year or of life,
it stands proud and tall,
a reminder of next Spring,
or future of its offspring.

M-357 DAB 0900-1130: Board and Officers

It was overdue to create the Science Board. Not that there had been any deadline, but research and other scientific issues continued, and it was taxing the depleted officer corps while repairs continued.

So the officers got together and cobbled parameters for the temporary Science Board. It was to be formed as soon as possible. It was to last until the Science Officer position was filled and for a transitional period, at least, with the option of continuing it permanently if the board did turn out to be efficient and useful. The Science Officer position itself implied an officer role that could take a fair amount of time, so the board could very well be useful to the S.O. as well. If kept, the S.O. would become the Science Board's chairperson. That much was little changed from the brief brainstorming about ten days prior; but it still seemed sound in light of time and further thought and discussion.

Without the S.O., there would still have to be a chair, even if the chair was mostly to act as a communication conduit to the command corps. At first, the officers considered having an officer become the temporary chair, but it took only a little discussion for the small group to realize that would be largely defeating one of the purposes of the board in the first place, namely to relieve some of the current pressure and stress on limited officer time. The board would have to vote one of its charter members as chair. That would be a temporary position, unless that person happened to become the S.O. later.

That brought them back to Science Officer. That role's basic definition seemed pretty well set, but while two individuals had stepped forward to show interest, neither was a multi-disciplinarian by practice or apparent nature. Victor was an extreme rarity, and Lew, though lacking some of Victor's breadth, depth, and wisdom, had clearly been the next closest and was being checked for aptitude as an officer when his own hasty judgment and rash act and Mentor's energy screen had led to his death. Ten-plus days of further thought didn't change what the officers already knew when vetting Lew: there were currently only a few partial multi-disciplinarians, and none of those seemed to have much in the way of officer aptitude.

Maya showed more potential on the science side, but still had to convince everyone she could contribute to Alphan needs. Her skills as a potential officer were, if not non-existent, difficult to judge considering all of her circumstances, including residual shock, nervousness in some aspects of interaction, and no way to judge whether she was one who could act with any sort of authority -- much less whether enough others would accept her as an authority.

There was a real fear that the Science Officer role might never be filled, at least not to the current definition and/or for some time. Or they might just have to appoint someone with weaknesses in knowledge or leadership and work with them on strengthening the missing skills, science-side or officer-side.

After a break, they got to some of the other parameters, including how members should become part of it. In some ways, they modeled it after the Science Board in the World Space Authority, yet given Alpha's needs, went their own way as well. At first, they considered various department managers, but there were too many for a practical board of seven or nine. Sandra instead offered the idea of lumping some related disciplines together, and letting them pick a representative, manager or not.

John inwardly sighed partway into this discussion. Victor had done most of this 'filtering' of things needing only a little attention vs. those needing to be elevated to command levels vs. those which were just not worth any pursuit at all. David Kano had oversight as well since most of these departments were under Technical. Kano, however, while having some breadth in general, and great depth in Computer, did not have that same combination of even more breadth and frequent depth that Victor had, and had willingly deferred to Victor's opinion on most scientific matters, as most of the base and its command personnel had as well. It was going to take nine people to do what Victor, with David's help, had pretty much just taken care of.

Still, it was an improvement over the last month.

M-357 DAB 1410-1530: Wounded Eagle

Diane Bell was in exhausting rehabilitation, and the experimental treatment was ongoing. On the latter, there were no signs yet, but none were expected for a few weeks, at least. She was doing pretty well putting up with rehabilitation, and was wheeling around well enough she had returned to Reconnaissance, this time in a new role.

Though still angry at the senseless attack the alien madman Mentor had leveled on the base, killing and injuring others and maiming her, she had set it aside as best she could to concentrate on rehabilitation, muster hope the experimental treatment would help, and best of all, get back to work.

She had not held out much hope of being able to resume her Technical Section role of Eagle Technician soon, given her condition limited her mobility. Yet when she had come out of her medically-induced coma, and had recovered enough to talk business, Diane was surprised to discover she was being offered a promotion. Some sort of recent discussion had occurred among Eagle Maintenance department manager Pete Garforth, Captain Alan Carter, and Commander John Koenig. Pete had decided to return to a full-time Eagle Technician role, and arrangements had been made for him to be primarily assigned to a different hangar than where Diane would have her office -- even though as department head, she would be most directly responsible for Eagle maintenance duty management in all of the hangars. Meanwhile, another technician moved to this hangar, to fill the role Diane was leaving. Given everything, including her own interests before the injury, but more so after, she readily accepted.

Diane Bell had been delighted not only being able to keep a role in Reconnaissance, but being able to take a managerial role while still being able to work on some equipment on a low bench brought in for her. Department managers were still part-time technicians, to keep their skills fresh while relying on a supervisor in each hangar as well. That she could work on some equipment while also being able to get around well in the hangar bays themselves to supervise out there as well was effective.

Her schedule here was still light, however, given she was still recovering from multiple surgeries, the last, most minor not that many days before, and from rehabilitation time. Yet she had insisted she needed to return to work as well, and a compromise had been easy to find and helpful for all. Initially, most of her time would actually be spent adjusting to the supervision aspect, with little time on repair, which was just as well in Dr. Russell's opinion, so that she wasn't wrenching herself about too much, outside of the controlled environment of rehab, trying to gain access to whatever equipment she might be repairing.

This hangar had not been damaged in the attack at Psychon, but she still had the challenge of overseeing repairs to the mildly damaged but rather stressed Eagle 4.

She still didn't know what to make of the news that Moonbase Alpha now officially counted an alien among its crew. A Psychon. Daughter of the very alien who had caused Diane's injury. A metamorph. Attacked by someone from Security, the Psychon had become a lion. What was that? The information was beyond surreal. Bizarre, really. Yet the news and rumors reaching her from some quarters was that she was very friendly and helpful, while some of her own people were suspicious of Maya. Some even claimed that a few men thought she was attractive. Diane didn't care for rumors, and decided to wait until meeting Maya to judge whether she seemed a good person.

Everything seemed so different to Diane now. She counted herself as lucky to be alive, but so much had changed in Diane's life, temporarily or permanently. Yet enough was the same too. She was determined to see her way through it; determined to recover, even regain use of her legs. Even if she didn't, she would find a way to thrive.

"No, no!" she yelled while back in the main bay of the hangar. "That lifting rig is not secured correctly! Look at the forward starboard clamp. Is the primary securing bolt missing? It will overstress the others, and they might fail too. Do you want to drop the booster unit on the floor? Or worse yet, on Eagle 4 itself -- after already spending nearly two weeks repairing both?"

It probably was about time Pete had gracefully relinquished his supervisory role. She had already known as "just" a technician herself, that quality was starting to slide. This was only proof. He was a good guy, one she even liked to count as an acquaintance, and a great technician; but it had been a mistake to promote him to a managerial role, and even he had probably known that at heart. She could see him as a chief engineer at some point, with a more focused, less managerial role, but for now, she thought he had found a better role.

As she snapped out a few orders, she somehow felt like she was echoing Alan's tone. She respected him and his style, though, and they had been amiable despite the earlier mutual interest between them. She started in surprise when she turned her chair around and saw him leaning against the strut assembly of another Eagle's landing pad, smiling a bit at her. Apparently he didn't mind his methods being echoed.

He gave her the respectful half salute of a military man to a civilian he respected, turned, and left. Diane smiled, feeling even better. Yes, she would thrive, and hopefully soar again.

She turned back and rolled around the Eagle as they fixed the one bolt situation, looking for others, before moving onto other tasks elsewhere in the hangar.

Almost an hour later, she happened to turn in the direction of the distant bay exit, and saw Alan approaching with what even from a distance clearly had to be Maya. She could see the Security Officer and the Commander remaining on the far side of the airlock, perhaps here for additional reasons.

Diane wheeled towards them, to meet halfway. The Psychon did seem momentarily distracted by Diane's wheelchair, but quickly looked at Diane with a small half-smile.

"Diane, this is Maya. Maya, Diane Bell. She...."

Diane had no idea whether Alan was about to mention her injury, and though doubting it, gave him a brief shake of her head while Maya was looking at Alan.

He continued smoothly. "... is department manager of Eagle Maintenance, and a crack repair tech."

"She repairs stress fractures in Eagles?" Maya asked.

Diane laughed. Maya's earnest misinterpretation of lingo, lack of staring at her chair or too long at Diane herself, put Diane at ease almost immediately. "No. Well, actually, I did help on one such case. Mostly, I work on a lot of electronic and mechanical components of Eagles."

"A dual role even before she became the manager, and very good at both. That's what I meant."

"Oh, thank you for the clarification."

Maya glanced briefly at Diane's legs, and what seemed to Diane to be a slightly troubled look crossed the alien's unusual yet seemingly readable face. Maybe Maya was guessing or speculating that Mentor's attack had left Diane in a chair -- for now she was already almost insistently telling herself.

Diane continued. "There are a lot of motors, scanners, pumps, computers, and other components in an Eagle. I know most of those components well, am still learning the specifics of some -- but I know how they're all supposed to fit together. I don't know what you're all going to be trained for, but if you ever have questions you think I might have some knowledge in, feel free to ask."

"Thank you," Maya said. Alan gave a look of wanting to wrap up the conversation, and the Psychon seemed to pick up on it, saying to Diane, "It was good to meet you."

"Same here."

Diane could have made a scene about her injury, even vented at the alien, but she felt far better for having welcomed Maya instead, and for having avoided the topic of the chair. Maybe Maya would wonder, and perhaps even ask at some point, but Diane had not wanted Alphans thinking of her in terms of her injury, and that included Maya.

She was not going to dwell on what made her grounded, but on how to fly again.

M-357 DAB 1520-1700: Admissions and Discipline

John waited in the anteroom to the Eagle hangar, next to Diane's office. He and Tony could have gone with Alan as he introduced Maya to Diane; but John wanted to talk separately with Diane for a few minutes, and Tony trusted Alan could judge Diane's reaction to Maya well enough, though Tony kept an eye out that the others were keeping a distance from Maya.

Then Tony went into the main hangar so that he and Alan could introduce Maya to some more Eagle techs. It had made it to Tony's ears and subsequently to John's that some who often worked in this hangar were among the most suspicious of Maya.

John let the first officer and flight officer carry out the further introductions, while he stood in the anteroom and watched through the glass, hoping his presence, not out in plain view but still visible, would be a reminder that intolerance would not be welcome. Tony could always glance at John to draw others' eyes that direction if need be.

While he watched, he mused.

Back at Hangar 1, he and Alan had finished interviewing Maya, with Tony observing. They had discovered virtually every Psychon learned at least some flight skills, mostly atmospheric and near space, but some superluminal. She even had experience on holographic simulations of more types, but seemed to avoid talking about this. They found she suspected the holosims were generated by Mentor from some of the craft he had captured; she had only listed them because of the application form's demand for completeness. She had looked down, as if awaiting some sort of rejection, but they had moved on.

Back on Earth, flight experience could be verified, and even post-Breakaway, most people's records were intact enough. With Maya, there was no information, but no reason to distrust her, and no way to hide lack of experience. Of course, this experience could just be so different as to create problems, but they'd soon find out if that was the case.

Helena had been alerted to the application, and given all the frequent and recent medical analysis of Maya, an additional check-up was waived, Helena indicating she would sign the application if it was presented within the next two weeks.

After further discussion with Maya was complete, John had then sent her, with Tony, to wait outside, while he and Alan had then talked privately. There was little to discuss regarding whether she was a good candidate.

They also thought it was about time for Sandra to fulfill the Officer Pilot Rule, as she had wanted before two delays. That Paul's death could still be preying on her mind was a possible complication, yet the training could get her mind off that too. Alan would have to watch.

They'd have to bump two others already on the list for training, but this was what the commander wanted, so it became official.

"Oh, and observe Maya's reactions and note anything interesting she says about the technical side," John had said. "Not the complements of what exists, but of things she is surprised are 'missing' or whatever."

"So in case we design some newer Eagle mark or something else...."

This was another reason Alan was an officer. He could sometimes be very reactive, not unlike Tony but more rash at times; yet he was intelligent too and could recognize opportunities.

John snapped back to full attention on the present, even while he had been keeping half an eye on the introductions at this hangar, which he had noticed had wrapped up, apparently without problem.

Maya had of course been happy to hear she was being accepted. The resilience he had thought -- hoped -- was inside her seemed to be coming out fairly rapidly. Earlier, she had accepted the need for her to fill out a victim's statement regarding Greg Sanderson's attack on her. Koenig had carefully explained that she was just to list facts, not opinions on causes, nor to lessen or omit anything, since he remembered her frequent statements that she was not hurt that much. She had accepted his instructions well, and the form that came back was a simple recounting of facts, even with precise timing information. Did she had some sort of strong sense of time? He again saw her curious linguistic tendencies, but less of it.

Alan was already armed, under his jacket, due to the planned meetings with new Alphans, so John had him take Maya to her next meeting, with someone Tony had already cleared. Tony went to retrieve Greg Sanderson for his planned disciplinary hearing, while John went in to talk briefly with Diane, to see for himself how she was holding up and handling her new role. Five minutes later, he came away impressed. It seemed very clear she was determined to recover and, regardless of that, handle whatever came her way.

So John left and worked his way back to where the hearing would be held.

They 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.

The suspension was enough to knock him out of the rotation back to the field. One month away from Alpha, one back was the usual pattern with the most experienced teams (somewhat different for less) -- and he theoretically had only days remaining in the latter. He was supposed to go back to the field with his team. Midway after his subsequent return, he had planned to marry the now-late Jane Clemens.

Rather than send out the rest of his team with a different leader, it was decided to hold the whole team on Alpha. His team was displaced in the rotation, and Koenig and Verdeschi did some checking and found a less experienced team that had a one-month-away-two-months-on-base rotation could instead be moved up after only one month back on Alpha. So Sanderson's team would continue the mix of studying survey results and other duties they normally had on base.

However, Sanderson would have to show progress in counseling sessions from Dr. Mathias. He would not be granted a return to the field unless it was clear he had gotten through more stages of grief and recovery and was not going to be a further danger to others. If this proved to be a problem, his team might need a new leader after all, though that consideration was premature and kept off the record. The need for progress was officially noted, however.

Being cut off from Earth had severed monetary considerations, so docking Sanderson's pay was a moot point. Removing laundry "points" which were only useful for part of one's laundry anyway, seemed too petty. Alpha's few similar allotment systems were all little more than petty cash at best.

That settled, Tony left, and John began writing up both the official report, and the much briefer public summary that would be released in the Command Announcements part of the Alpha Information System of Main Computer.

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 he asked her to guess at. 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. The meeting was to end in the technician's lab, where the guard could then leave and Tony would return half an hour later. Something about many of the guards being in a training session. Plus a medical appointment was to follow for her.

They ended up at Smitty's lab somewhat early. 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?"

Her phrasing indicated a little lack of understanding of the expression, but he ignored it in favour of explaining his reaction. "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."

"Germans? Where is the planet you encountered them?"

"Uh, Earth. We have a lot of languages on Earth. There are Germans here on base."

"Oh, sorry, I meant no harm."

She was obviously not used to one planet having many languages. Her humbleness was charming in a way, but quite overboard, he thought. He suspected she would normally have plenty of confidence otherwise -- and probably had, since she was doing so well among so many aliens. "There was no harm at all. Anyone could have made the same mistake. By the way, what designation does German have to you?"

"Ta'pseer'trae -- a heavy Psychon contraction of the term Associative Language Hyperarray -- 1433.7, marked as variant 2."

Contractions.... It was the "variant" bit which his attention most, however. "Variant 2? Do you know other variants?"

"It is marked as being associated with Ta'pseer'trae 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."

"Dialects?" At her blank look, he added, "Same language, understandable to other speakers of the language, but with some unique variations which have to be learned."

"Dialects.... Well, the Khorask seemed to call all of them variants, as I would translate the word they use. When I start trying to associate Modern German and Old High German, they do not seem to fit your definition."

"That is a matter of debate I guess; but yes, from what I know, most agree those two are separate-but-related languages, one having evolved from the other."

"Very interesting," Maya said. "I know many languages but very little about 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....

T-358 DAB 1100-1220: Medical Integration

Helena and Bob sat down for one of their frequent discussions, formal or ad hoc. Known as work rounds, they were meant to discuss patients, new findings, or other topics of interest.

With Diane Bell's release from Medical Center and enrollment in physical therapy sessions a couple times a day, some days before, the last of the casualties from the Psychon attack had been released, though besides frequent follow-ups with her, there would be some follow-ups with a couple of the others. They went through all, lastly with Koenig, whose talon wounds and bruises, from Maya's alter-forms, had mostly faded.

They then shared the latest on another aspect of Diane Bell's recovery. Helena, via an update in a Command Conference, had heard that the commander had talked to Pete Garforth, and found him more than happy to take up what he was best at, an Eagle Technician role. He had not put up much fight, actually seemed moderately relieved, had promised better performance, even expressed interest in an eventual Chief Engineer role, separate of the less-technical departmental supervision. To ease any potential awkwardness between Diane and Pete, he had accepted his role in a different hangar than the one where the office was, and someone else was switched from that hangar to the one where Diane's office was to be. It didn't change the fact of role change, since Diane now supervised Eagle Maintenance in all the hangars. Helena had wondered why the ILC had not designed Alpha with a more central office; but Alan insisted being based in a hangar was a reminder of what that person's job was. It sounded somewhat military, yet sensible at the same time. Helena's office, after all, was in Medical Center.

This shifted into what they both initially intended to be a brief update from Helena about the latest on Maya. The conversation, however, soon evolved into a more integrative discussion, trying to make sense of larger patterns in her physiology.

"Given moderately lower blood pressure and pulse," Bob said, "I would have expected more red corpuscles to distribute the same amount of oxygen, except maybe clogging -- but that probably wouldn't be a problem unless she had several times more."

"Right," Helena said. "And she doesn't anyway, so there must be some other factor. I called up the detailed survey results, and the partial pressure of oxygen on Psychon was a little lower. Not enough that we noticed it consciously, but such that she probably had a pulse rate and B.P. close to human average there. Here, though, her system no longer needs to keep it at that level, at least for oxygenation needs."

"Maybe her respiration rate was slightly higher than average there and is simply average here."

"Perhaps," Helena said. "Regardless, there must be some other efficiency in her system."

They debated a possible left shift in what was termed the oxy-hemoglobin dissociation curve, which if her total hemoglobin levels were lower along with the red blood cell count, would allow her to bind more oxygen per hemoglobin molecule. There was variation among humans, and a left-shift would sometimes mean....

"Alkalosis?" Bob asked.

"Extremely slight, but it might have been a bit higher on Psychon if her respiration was slightly higher. There is really, however, scarcely any difference in pH, so little I wouldn't worry about it in a human unless there were other symptoms clustering."

They dismissed methemoglobinemia for lack of bluish skin or brownish blood. Bob speculated that if Maya had blood chemistry that somewhat more tightly bound oxygen at the lungs, that she might have higher levels of 2,3-BPG at other tissues to release the oxygen.

"Just like others at high altitude," Helena said.

"Or those with congestive heart failure; but no signs of that either. Either that or she simply has more hemoglobin per blood cell."

"Or some other aspect that's a little different in her blood chemistry."

"Like the hyperkalemia?"

It was probably the biggest biochemical difference found so far, of a great deal of 'excess' electrolytic potassium in her system. Bob had heard about it, but this was the first chance he had to ask more questions about it. He wondered if it was hemolysis -- damage to blood cells during the draw -- causing false elevation of the reading, but Helena indicated a second draw had the same results, and there was no other signs suggesting hemolysis was a factor. It had been a temporary concern of Helena's from the start, because it could have been a problem for Maya donating her own blood.

"I am almost certain the hyperkalemia is real," Helena concluded.

"Yet no heart problems, no renal signs, no muscle weakness?"

"No such symptoms, except her T-waves on the ECG are peaked, but a lot less so than the level of hyperkalemia would suggest."

"So it seems her system is adapted to that somehow," Bob wondered.

"Maybe. By human standards, she seems fine on all counts, just the slight differences that are almost all within human range, and a couple very close. By her standards, she reports no relevant problems. I'm not going to try lowering her potassium when there are no other signs of trouble. If that level remains steady, we should probably stop calling it hyperkalemia and call it psykalemia or something."

"If she needs it that high, do you think she can maintain it eating human food?" Bob asked.

"Maybe her kidneys are more efficient reclaiming just that little bit more to maintain a balance, or digestive system absorbing a little more. We will have to keep an eye on that level, however."

"We probably should prepare an electrolytic booster high in potassium in case it suddenly goes down and she starts showing other problems that might be hypokalemic for her."

"That is a good idea," Helena said. "Go ahead and have it prepared. I am preparing Psychon Specials to keep on hand for her, besides just the Y- blood."

He affirmed his part, paused, then said, "So if we assume it's real and normal for her, the question becomes what is all that excess potassium for? Did you ask her?"

"Yes, but she doesn't really know, and her ability of molecular transformation does not seem to give her any further insights into biochemical uses of such molecules. She had basic medical knowledge, not much beyond first aid and knowledge to run Psychon medical devices -- essentials for two people alone on a planet, in emergencies, but little else. She's been learning our first aid well enough, but doesn't really show much medical aptitude beyond that."

Helena then caught Bob up on the DNA results, and the interesting discussion on Psychon pregnancies.

"Whew," he said, "I wouldn't have thought of interference from the metamorphic... field; but now it's a small miracle it works for even one child."

"It's always a small miracle," Helena quietly said.

"True, but this adds two more layers, getting through the metamorphic thing, and now any human-Psychon barriers."

"As I said, it's always a small miracle. Trouble was, when John and I first mentioned children, she was surprised we had any 'so soon after Breakaway.'"

Bob laughed. They could laugh now, though still more in irony or over not wanting to revisit old shock about the irresponsibility of it all, even if Helena was starting to understand it somewhat.

"Maya suddenly realized with horror that Mentor had been 'attacking a base full of babies' as she put it. She doesn't think Mentor had the scanning technology to sort out baby vs. adult, but wasn't sure."

Bob's smile had vanished. "Damn, it never crossed my mind."

"Nor mine. Bob, she may not understand or welcome the idea of psychologist--"

"But if she's becoming your friend, you've got psychological exper--"

"I know, but you and I should have peer discussions before bringing up new such topics. Not that she would have felt any less horror regardless how the topic was raised."

"What about her nightmares?" Bob queried.

"The wrist monitor is still recording disturbances; at least one per longer sleep period on average, occasionally during a nap. Even if not waking up from a nightmare, there would often be spikes in readings when she first woke up, from waking into an alien environment, I think. That part has almost completely faded, like she's waking up reminding herself she's not in Sarnos anymore, before opening her eyes." Bob gave a half-smile at Helena's replacement of 'Kansas' in the expression.

Helena mentioned the nightmares had apparently decreased after the funeral and the replacement of the counter bed with a flat one, and added Maya had said Psychons rarely had nightmares. Bob wondered if monster dreams were rare from metamorphosis being a normal part of their society.

After more discussion, he suggested discontinuing the wrist monitor sometime soon. "You know how some Alphans grew restive at always having to wear them. Feeling watched. We stopped using them so much mostly for technical reasons, but I think a lot of people were actually relieved. As much as you and Maya may be becoming friends, the wrist monitor is a constant reminder she's being watched, and if talking with friends is a very strong coping mechanism among Psychons, the wrist monitor may slow or block that."

"And if we take it back and she says nothing?"

"She's scarcely saying anything now, after two weeks. And if she gets through them on her own anyway...."

"You may have a point. Fine, I'll do that. I will emphasize some follow-up periods are possible."

"Speaking of follow-up, what about you?" Bob asked quietly.

Helena sighed. "Physically, fine. Nightmares, yes. The odd thing was that it took a couple days to kick in, which Alan reported too."

"Bill reported the same thing. No dreams that he could recall at all in the first couple of days. Almost as if Psyche depressed normal dreaming patterns."

"Do you think it interfered with anything else?"

"Do you?" Bob asked, turning the question right back to Helena.

"Not that I have noticed. Well, other than feeling more stress in general, especially any time I've thought of that machine."

"And the nightmares?"

"All variations on Psyche, or being turned into a zombie like Torens. Well, and a dream or two about Maya turning into a monster. I had a very... visceral chill when I first heard about her ability; but it hasn't bothered me since, consciously at least. I guess part of me is still getting over it."

She paused, then described a little about Psyche, including.... "It is difficult to even want to describe it, for even talking about it now, I can almost feel that thing clawing at my mind, almost like there was an outer shell it was trying to get through. I can only describe it metaphorically, because it was unlike any other sensation...." She said a little more, but then went silent, the memories still difficult.

They eventually moved on. Bill had sought some sleep aid, of which he had been given a very limited supply. They then returned to Maya, but on increasingly minor topics.

She had seen a dentist and an optometrist to establish more baselines. No problems with teeth, and the Helena speculated Maya would probably 'out-shift' any decay-causing bacteria anyway. Her eyesight was essentially at expected acuity, though she seemed a little sensitive to blue light shining into her eyes. Her hearing had been tested too, and she was slightly high-pitch shifted, picking up slightly higher-pitched sounds than 96% of people, but missing out on some of the very lowest-pitched sounds. Not out of human range at either end, and no increased acuity in the rest of the range.

She had an appendix like humans, and interestingly, Psychons were already convinced of something that was only hypothetical among humans, that it acted as a reservoir for helpful microbial cultures, in case problems wiped out most of the rest in the gastrointestinal tract. Given that the metamorphic potential active even in individuals who did not learn full transform skills, Helena had questioned whether this reservoir even mattered after childhood, when the partial ability Maya called "outshifting" came into play. Maya had admitted she did not know, but again mentioned that metamorphic ability sometimes weakened in old age.

Even her ear and cheek shading was brought up. There was no sense holding back, because she had to be cared for, and even -- especially -- the differences had to be discussed, to make sure something that seemed minor or irrelevant perhaps was more important than expected. Helena conveyed that the shading was something present in all Psychon females from birth, grew during adolescence and early adulthood, including then covering the ears, then started fading while still in early adulthood. It would fade from the ears, but never entirely go away from the cheeks. It was less prominent in Psychon males, sometimes much less so. Even the Psychons didn't know what it was about, but of course considered it perfectly normal.

The eyebrows of course drew attention from any human, including the doctors, but also for more medical reasons. They were ennervated, which was not surprising given they were tissue; but they had a lot more nerves than expected.

"Yet when I accidentally tapped one with a scanner, she didn't flinch in the slightest."

He paused, got a doubtful look on his face, but then said, "Maybe only a few of the nerves are the typical mixture of pressure, heat, and cold sensing nerves."

"What are you getting at?"

"I got the impression, either from you or her, that she has a choice of sensing lifeform patterns in two ways: by direct contact with any part of her; and over short distances. Maybe each is through a somewhat different mechanism."

"You think the eyebrows help with the latter?"

"I have no idea what to think, but maybe it explains their distinctive form and shape somehow."

It seemed doubtful, and Bob tossed up a hand to show he thought it sounded perhaps silly. Nothing more could be determined and maybe it would not be a question to ask any time soon. They moved on -- sort of.

"While we're on that general topic...." Bob started. "What about the transformation ability itself? Any idea how that works at the physiological level?"

"I tried asking about that too, but got back an incoherent or incomprehensible -- I'm not sure which -- mess about... ah... 'nano-loop snaring' or something, dimensionality, more about metamass, trans-energy states I think, and more Psychon words. I heard a lot more fractured physics -- and sentences -- than physiology." Helena paused, and then continued. "Between her not knowing all our technical terms, us not having all the technical words she would need, and her not being a medical practitioner...."

"Maybe we all need to consult with a physicist," Bob joked.

Helena laughed, and said, "On her first day here, Maya thought Doctor Conway meant that Joan worked in Medical Section. Maya was even mixing up the meanings of physicist and physician."

Bob smiled, and said, "Uh huh, maybe we should have Joan put in an appearance in a white sleeve and have Maya show up for a discussion."

Helena laughed again. "Bob, that's terrible."

"Right, but you were laughing."

"Yes, I was, wasn't I?"

"But seriously, how can she just interrupt normal physiology, change into something else, yet revert and pick right up again? She's got an almost human physiology otherwise. How do her humanoid processes survive that?"

"I have no idea. That ability is completely alien. That was what I was hoping to figure out; but it may take a long time." She paused, then said, "Actually, I did already consult with Dr. Conway about one thing."

"Oh?" Bob asked, leaning forward.

"I sent a blood sample to Joan -- who seems to want some people to start calling her by her birth name of Janina, by the way -- to see what, if anything, she could find out. The results came back, indicating there was something unique about Maya's molecular structure. The molecules were recognizable in general, of course: she shares an essentially identical biochemistry, after all. There was some 'signature' or 'extra field' clinging to every molecule, however. It showed up on only one kind of scan. Janina can't identify what kind of field, and says she's probably seeing symptoms of the field rather than the field itself. Presumably it doesn't interact with normal biochemical reactions at all, though it could perhaps be what allows Maya to do molecular transformation, and is apparently a factor in outshifting destructive microbes and complicating Psychon pregnancies a little. What's more, the field was absent in a later scan of the same sample. The field or whatever it is apparently faded away after some time separated from the rest of Maya."

"What if she needs a transfusion? Would the lack of a field be a problem?"

"I explained auto-donations and transfusions to Maya, and she understood perfectly well. Psychons apparently did similar; so whatever field fading there is apparently does not interfere with transfusions. Maybe the field returns. After all, it apparently is extended to symbiotic microbes in her system, not to mention being able to transform her clothing as well. Again, I don't understand the physics."

Helena and Bob were both research physicians as well, their postings to Alpha having been in part about their skills in such. Neither had really expected to be studying aliens, much less one at greater length, one who had some rather unusual characteristics. Yet both were ready, both found the discussion mutually beneficial and fascinating. Somehow, it was yet another thing that made them feel they did belong on Alpha, that they approached it all with calm, professionalism, yet curiosity and a drive to understand. Still, Maya was not a lab rat. The doctors would be limited by time -- theirs and especially Maya's -- and perhaps other factors, including respecting that Maya was a person too. That, however, didn't stop them from discussing every detail they had on hand.

"I saw the heavy metal contaminant test," Bob said. "Zero lead? Zero radon? Zero mercury? Either the test was run improperly, Psychons were very fastidious about their handling of materials, or more metamorphic outshifting?"

"I don't know, but am currently assuming the last."

"What do you bet they have somewhat longer life-spans?"

"That, as you could probably guess, could be a very sensitive question," Helena stated. "Speaking in general, though, so much of her physiology is practically human, backed up by the similarity in the DNA. I will be further emphasizing that -- and the particular differences -- in group meetings and with the heads of the different departments, to make sure they get both the facts of similarities and differences down correctly. I've seen a few small signs of laxness in taking up this information, and I won't tolerate it."

"Absolutely not."

"Good. By the way, I suspect we'll keep finding new surprises over time. Years maybe."

"A lifetime?" Bob asked, more rhetorically than anything.

"Well, almost assuredly. Maya is our medical responsibility now, so all I can say is what you obviously know, that you have to be careful about making too many assumptions with her; but at the same time know you may be forced to make decisions drawing on what you know of Psychon physiology to that point."

"And keep asking her questions, even if she doesn't know the answer to all of them."

"Agreed," she said. It was at moments like these and others over the past couple of years that made her appreciate Bob's presence on Alpha. He had the right, calm way of thinking, and a lot of common sense even in uncommon situations. Dealing with aliens was about as uncommon as a doctor could get, and doctors often saw uncommon situations among humans as it was. He was approaching this situation very sensibly. Such sensibility was undoubtedly a strength in psych-related work as well, and would be in training new medical recruits, both of which would draw some of their time, but his more than hers.

"By the way, do you think Maya wants or needs an exercise program?" he asked.

Helena laughed. "Tony beat us to that by one or two steps."

"Tony?"

"Three or four days ago, he called up Anna Wong to arrange workout sessions for Maya. Anna contacted me to make sure Maya was medically cleared for that. Anna later conveyed that Maya seemed basically fit but nonetheless could use some more exercise, and that Maya seemed all too happy about the opportunity."

"Good. I didn't think Tony liked her that much to be thinking so constructively about her potential needs, however. Well maybe not liking her is too strong. Not trusting her?"

"He's compartmentalizing. He's not sure of her. He's still evaluating her character, I think. On the chance she's a threat, he's watching out for such signs. On the chance she's fine, he's been helpful and friendly."

"Interesting. Maybe that sort of compartmentalizing is part of why he got promoted."

After a couple more comments by both, Helena interrupted, saying, "Maya's due for her two-week in a few minutes."

"Which Med Care Unit this time? Has she been in MCU-3 to be tested on the Hammersley Scanner?"

"Yes on the Hammersley; I'll give you the results later. No on an MCU. This time here in Medical Center. Some non-mobile equipment here she needs to be baselined with. Besides.... Tony and I have introduced her to almost everyone in Medical, and I insisted with him that we need to finish Medical Section intros today, since any one of us could end up called to aid Maya."

They discussed who briefly. One nurse, Gloria, who had met Maya, had shown some signs of discomfort about her, so Helena had decided that nurse would be called on to help with some simple aspects of the checkup, to demonstrate how there was little procedural difference with Maya, and to further assess the nurse's reactions. Helena invited Bob to observe, and he accepted, just as Tony brought Maya in and they left her office. As usual during exams, Helena asked Maya to remove the wrist monitor, and the latter set it on the nearest table. Bob moved to stand at a moderate distance as Helena brought Gloria over, then latter still appearing somewhat uncomfortable yet not hesitating to make some of the basic checks.

Introductions followed, two standing out the most, both among male paramedics. One stared at Maya with some degree of fascination, which made Maya nervous -- she still didn't seem to sort out stares well. The other clearly didn't want to even shake her hand. It had reached Helena's ears that, not surprisingly, word about Maya's lioness transformation had spread through Alpha rapidly, and more than a few were repulsed. Maybe this paramedic was one such case. After seeing the displeased expressions of the two attendings, however, he got his act together, and asked what to do.

Helena had dismissed Gloria, and Helena asked the reticent paramedic to repeat some of the most basic checks Gloria already had. Maya looked puzzled; but fortunately, the paramedic did not notice and Maya quickly smothered the look after Helena gave Maya a quick smile.

Further tests, of more varied nature, followed, including a blood draw, all carried out by other Medical Center staff. Maya, always quick to pick up on negative signals, seemed a bit on edge, but started relaxing a little as time went on, more so when Helena brought Maya back to her office, alone, Bob fading off and then leaving Med Center, probably for lunch.

There were various follow-up questions on prior questions. How much tension Maya felt. Nightmares. Sleep otherwise. How welcome she felt. Other topics. Maya again had high praise for feeling a lot more welcomed than she had expected; but under a little prodding, also admitted to knowing many were nervous about her and probably feared her metamorphic ability, especially after she had been pushed to use it. That this added some tension. Nightmares, she said little about, except to indicate they were declining a little, and she was sleeping better. Maya seemed to be more comfortable discussing most topics than early on, so Helena again decided to move on.

Helena drifted to covering topics about food. She finally got to covering vitamins, showing Maya the chemical formulae and diagrams. Maya looked through the symbols, softly speaking strings of Psychon syllables, apparently translating aloud. On the first one, Vitamin A, she finished by saying, "Ah, Te'oda-ko'zylaka. At Helena's look, Maya said, "We take chemical names and contract and compact important ones for quick reference." It was not the first time Helena had heard such statements, and it was becoming clear that Psychons liked to shorten phrases into words, but apparently did not use simple designators like Vitamin A, nor acronyms.

Helena then covered some examples of what Alphan foods had more of certain vitamins and other trace nutrients, filling in some gaps in the Psychon's vocabulary, before deciding it would be prudent for Maya to have further discussion with a dietician, to get more details on human foods. He would probably have some nice "gridded" information that Maya seemed to absorb with such ease. He could help her with the interpretation, if not exactly what she needed, since that was not clear. Carbohydrates, protein, fat content, vitamins, and trace minerals could all be discussed. Maya might not be an expert at such things, but it struck Helena that giving such information to Maya might allow her to consciously or unconsciously realize certain needs and fulfill them.

Still, Helena asked some questions, but while a few preferences were already apparent -- dislike of raw tomatoes, tea, and typical desserts, and really liking some other things -- the information was too sparse to sort out whether it was over nutrition or simple taste. Two weeks was not enough time to draw conclusions. Maya then asked a very strange question.

"Do you have any foods with some metallic zest?"

"Metallic zest?" Helena said, confused at the combination of words.

"Oh, wait, that is more for...." Maya trailed off.

"What sort of metallic zest, Maya?" Helena asked quietly.

"It was a silly question. There is no reason you would... maybe even poisonous."

"Maya, just tell me."

Maya looked at Helena hesitantly, but only briefly. "Metallic salts -- of lead and iron especially."

Helena was already starting to put it together. The zero heavy-metal contamination levels in Maya's blood were not a result of out-shifting, but apparently her system scavenging for such and shifting it to her 'metamass' for some reason. This too protected her humanoid physiology, but her request made it clear there was a metamorphic need. "Why?" she asked.

"There are certain lifeforms with an elevated metal content. One, called a Euthrak Zytranu, Euthrak Metal-Hide, concentrates it a lot, for example. Lesser cases too, however. Molecular transformation has certain element'peaks, elements or groups of elements that are more difficult to change, change to, or change past. Without certain heavier metallic... resonance... in my metamass, these forms are more difficult to transform into. It is even harder to remember those forms, because... hmm, that is difficult to explain."

Helena tried to ask more about metamass, but this quickly turned into fractured physics. Helena only got the impression it wasn't like Maya kept some junk-pile of "supplies" but of some sort of complex multi-dimensional physics and patterns. Plus she stated that even Psychons had limited direct perception of what that was about, and did not fully understand the ability, consciously or via technical analysis. The fact that some analysis had been successful enough to build machines with some transformational technology was not something either woman wanted to re-visit.

"You describe them as cravings, though; but I thought you said not all Psychons learn metamorphic abilities."

"Not full ability, but all have subtle abilities from adolescence. The craving, as you called it, appears to be... wired?... into our physiology, for anyone to accumulate the material for potential later use, even if never used."

Helena found it very interesting. It was like a second set of needs, not even overlapping with her normal biological needs, yet still being translated as physical cravings, despite probably being a poison to her own humanoid body. "You said primarily lead and iron. What else?" Helena asked.

Maya listed a couple more, then drew out the formulae, to make sure exactly the correct chemicals were obtained. "If these are poisonous to keep around, I do not need them for normal needs, and you could just ignore--"

"I will check, but it's probably okay. Maybe we can make a special salt shaker, that you keep only in your quarters for just yourself."

They discussed quantities, and they were actually not that much higher than plain sodium chloride consumption. Maya wasn't interested on putting it on everything, just on otherwise very bland foods, such as white rice.

Helena then introduced the idea of talking to a dietician, and Maya agreed it made sense.

Not long after, the conversation wound down. It had taken longer than expected, well into what for Maya was equivalent to late evening, already to her usual sleep period at this point, and past her snack. Helena inquired and found out Maya had started accumulating some food supplies, so Helena called a guard to take Maya to her quarters. Out of the office itself, Maya walked over to the table where she had placed the wrist monitor.

"Don't worry about that anymore," Helena said. I have your baseline information for now. I may ask you to wear it for a few days at a later point, after you've had more time to adjust; but for now, leave it."

Helena did not catch any smile, but Maya didn't ask 'are you sure' either, so Helena suspected it probably was a welcome sign to the Psychon.

Ten minutes later, alone in her office, Helena put more of it together, about the bitter-tasting orange food bars provided inside the small yellow-orange stand the orange pitcher had also stood on. The somewhat metallic taste to them. Maya recognized the metal salts she was interested in might be poisonous in some way to humans. Maybe it was Mentor who had arranged the food bars. In fact, that sounded like something Maya had mentioned, that he oversaw those and Maya the vegetables and fruits. Maybe he had reassured Maya he was making separate bars for Psychon's 'guests' while actually not bothering with any such difference. Helena filed away the thoughts, but decided not to ask Maya. It really did not matter any more. No one who had tried nibbling at the bars had any detectable increase in cumulative heavy-metal contamination levels in their blood, and bringing it up would only cause Maya more needless suffering.

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. A pregnant woman had reacted poorly, though Maya had been staring rather rudely. Now Maya had apparently stared too long at George. He and Susan were the two people temporarily transformed by criminals. Maya had felt revulsion at the description of what had happened to Jackie, who had been renamed by Susan to George after it was over. Maybe Susan felt revulsion on hearing of Maya's transformation. Maya could understand, but it still hurt. She meant no harm, yet Maya had done wrong herself, staring too long at the child.

"Is something wrong?" Tony asked.

Maya tried to answer that calmly. "No, I just suddenly feel I have had enough food. I will take this back to quarters."

"Full."

"Full?"

"When you have had enough food, you can say you are full, if you want. Full stomach."

"I see," she simply said, not indicating what it was in this case, for she felt sick inside. "Thank you."

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.

"Tony, Sandra, and I will still be giving you some priority information, Maya; but I'm going to start letting you make your schedule on the basis of those priorities. Just remember, there are limits to how much you should be scheduling. Time to just relax and let some of it settle in, time for your own relaxed studying, and time for just pure relaxation and social activity, are important too, and should all be part of your schedule. Keep in mind how we've arranged things so far, and feel free to ask advice of me, Tony, Sandra, or Helena. Is all of that understood?"

"Yes, Commander; thank you."

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.

Koenig dismissed Hayden, and briefly discussed the situation with Benes. He quietly made a point or two for her to consider, and added that she should keep an eye out for more problems. She apologized for missing the significance about Maya's earlier comments and curiosity about 'vital' areas, but he brushed that aside.

Just as this wrapped up, news came in that there was a problem with a heating unit in a residential area, and that Technical had come up with two very different ideas about fixing it and could not reach a decision.

That was one of the problems right now. Too many details swamping the few officers currently left. Rather than both go, he had Sandra check it out first, while he wrote up an electronic memo clarifying the intentions of the discussion sessions with the Science Advisor, and indicating brief formal reports were now expected of the major participants.

By the time he finished, it was almost 19:00. Part of the life of a Commander of a base on a runaway Moon. Fortunately, even he got breaks too, and 19:00 also wasn't too bad.

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. In fact, she had requested to be brought to the meeting early, not wanting to be late. John recalled her initial reaction.

She had expressed some surprise and delight at being chosen to participate in a larger professional group.

"Science Board. Alpha has a lot of boards." John missed that she was joking at first, and when he asked, Maya explained she was surprised "words are reused for unrelated meanings, especially words I thought at first were construction and material words." She had listed a few example word-sounds: board, post, drill. He had to admit it was a funny language sometimes. He thought Anna Davis, if she had still been around, would have found it fascinating to get an alien's perspective on languages. Part of him wanted to talk about languages right now, but part of him still resisted, deciding there was no time.

He did notice, though, that the random tangential small talk seemed to put her at ease, and he had explained some of the basics, while deciding to let the written material explain the rest. That it was a larger group, and she had encountered some resistance from a few of these same scientists, did seem to give her pause, but it seemed she wanted to press on. That seemed a good sign to John, too. Seventeen days after she arrived a shattered alien, she seemed to be regaining a little confidence.

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. Maybe not just fear of rejection but fear of becoming arrogant -- though he was just guessing.

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.

John smiled as he left, recalling Maya's puzzlement over the use of the word 'chair' too. Nothing like a newcomer to point out some of the absurdities that went virtually unnoticed.

Curiously, it was the first time Maya was left in a larger group that did not include an officer or guard, but Tony had felt comfortable this group -- mixed as it was -- represented no real threat of physical harm. Still, Verdeschi assigned a patrol in the hallway nearby, as a precaution.

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.

She quickly wrestled with a point of confusion. Was the chair supposed to be a wuibaziran, an elevated pseudoleader among peers, or more like a full detraziran, a true leader of a subgroup of expertise? This seemed to be intended as an advisory and organizing group, that decisions made here were more by the group and less by the chair, but that the chair would be a tiebreaker, and might have a little more influence over the decisions, but still could only report decisions to command staff.

Yet Maya still had a sense that the chair needed to have some wisdom, and how was Maya, a newcomer and outsider, supposed to judge that? She felt uncomfortable judging the other eight people. The procedure was discussed, of a anonymous blind ballot, either printing a name on a tiny slip of paper, or to print "abstaining" on it. She decided the latter.

The vote went 3/3/2/1, three for Thomas, three for Carl, two for someone she had just met, and her own abstention.

"Well, we have a tie, so we'll have a run-off vote on the top two."

4/4/1.

"Still a tie. Obviously there is essentially equal support for either, so it can either be a random choice, or the abstainer can make a choice, or someone else can change his or her mind. It does not seem to matter much now. We'll try one more vote before going totally random."

This was the last place Maya had wanted to be. She could just let it be a random choice. That seemed appropriate for some things, but if the chair was supposed to be someone with judgment skills, yet Maya had observed Thomas had displayed poor judgment and shut Maya out. Wasn't science supposed to be an open process? She suddenly realized she had neglected applying this thought even at the time, assuming Thomas had good reason to shut her out, when he had none. Maya had been self-deprecating at an inappropriate time.

This data hardly implied a full pattern, yet it had arisen, so perhaps there was a pattern. It might have been a random occurrence, and voting because of it might not be any better than allowing a choice by randomizer. Still, to not vote now felt wrong, so she went on instinct, even as she estimated the others would not find it difficult to guess that the abstainer had been her, and that she was now about to vote for Carl. Maybe she'd make an enemy. Still, others disliked or distrusted her anyway, for other reasons. Yet she felt no choice but to forge on.

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.

Maya wondered if there was a special chair -- actual sitting chair to go with the other'meaning reference, but it was a round table, and Carl did not move.

"Er, okay. I don't really have a speech, other than to say thank you for the votes of confidence. So I guess the first order is to find out what the current prioritization questions are, then determine whether we can decide any ourselves or have to elevate any. Did the Commander give anyone something we're supposed to delegate? No? Okay, let's proceed."

Maya was strangely relieved. She had taken some action, and still felt it was the best she could have done given limited data and the choice of that vs. randomness, despite the social implication of perhaps remaining on the wrong side of Thomas for even longer.

She shifted her focus to the science topics, and though unfamiliar with the details of most items under discussion, waited for opportunities to ask questions. She asked a few, but once again, most of the details of discussion were outside her current knowledge'space, and decision and temporary deferments made on topics she mostly had little familiarity with. She had a few questions, but mostly decided that as an advisor, that she should keep focus on points where she already had some knowledge and just needed clarification or could offer an opinion, as opposed to taking over the conversation seeking discussion of an entire topic she was likely to need a full four-hour session to even be properly introduced to it.

However, the surprise mention of something called the Hydroponics Experimental Section had her asking more questions. She had not heard of it yet, despite the Commander clarifying Hydroponics was meant to remain a department still active in experimentation.

"Actually," Thomas admitted after an uncomfortably long pause, "small-scale experimentation does occur at various locations throughout the department. The Experimental Section of the department is a special case, to test the potential of various alien plants and seeds picked up on planets, very new strains of Earth-based plants, and perhaps eventually hybrids of alien and Terran."

Hybrids of alien and Terran, Maya's mind thought idly for a moment, before she thought of something else. "Oh, next time you lower the force field, can I please take a look?" Maya asked as nicely as possible, knowing how easy it was to offend this man.

"Force field? What are you talking about?"

"Maya," Janina said, "none of our unpatterned force fields are fine enough scale to integrate within the structure of Alpha."

"Oh."

"I still don't understand why you think there would be a force field," Thomas said. "We put these things in isolation at first, but eventually have to try growing them."

"What is the concern, Maya?" Carl asked.

"I have heard of a few species that can reach unusual growth patterns after a few generations in an alien environment. Rapid growth. You should perhaps have... draktaesko'ees or similar...."

"What does that mean?" Thomas demanded.

"Sorry, it best translates as... broadest plant-only killer. Does very rapid lethal damage to almost all known plants, but only persists for a short time before breaking down, and is non-toxic or only mildly irritating to most other forms of life."

"Do you know enough to translate to a chemical name?"

Maya thought for a moment, then said, "No, but I can draw its chemical structure, unless you'd rather wait."

"I'd like to see it," someone said.

Maya drew it quickly on a clear'board.

"Whew, no wonder it is volatile; it scarcely seems stable. I'd have to have someone look that over, but I don't know if we can produce that. Did Psychons?"

"Occasionally." She explained the technique, as best and generally as she could, for she found most of the words to describe its formation were absent from Alphan, and she suspected many were from technological gaps that could perhaps decrease the odds of being able to manufacture it here. "This might be more difficult."

"Er, we'll see; but what about a simpler approach. Say chlorine gas."

"It would be almost as effective, but is more dangerous to all," Maya said.

Oddly enough, the idea took root in most of the board, that if the system was well enough designed to have only highly specific and secured triggers, that the potential benefits outweighed the risks. Maya was not so sure, and recommended analysis of the chemical formula she had drawn. Still, in the end, everyone, even Thomas, agreed on the conclusion that some sort of poison system was prudent.

It was only one item out of twenty decided for further action, but she had contributed on it, and it had been almost completely welcome. It did make her feel a little more like a contributor.

After a four hour session, except for a break, the first meeting broke up, everyone agreeing it had been productive. "See, with results like this, we can probably make this a permanent thing," Maya overheard someone comment.

There was discussion of going for supper among five. No one was calling out for her to go as well, and someone further away probably didn't hear any of it, and was leaving. Deciding she was probably going to be left out, Maya started heading out of the room, to the guards she had been told were on patrol.

"Well," Janina, nearer to most of the rest, called out loudly so all heard. "I say we should all celebrate our wildly successful first meeting."

That got the man closest to the door stopping, forcing Maya to stop too.

There was a short burst of discussion, while Maya pondered that Janina was knowingly or unknowingly pushing Maya into an uncomfortably larger group outside of a professional setting. Maya felt no anger about it, just nervous again, especially after having, in effect, blocked Thomas out of the chair'position.

"It should be everyone or no one, really," Janina said in a curiously cheerful tone.

Thomas actually took that moment to look at Maya. Strangely, she felt like they were both sharing a moment of exasperation over neither feeling comfortable about sharing such a meal.

Still, Janina was persistent, not unlike Annette, but still in a somehow different way, and in the end, all ended up going, soon all talking science again.

F-361 DAB 0405-0800: Calculators

June Washington had to hurry to work. Maya was overdue for follow-up training on Main Computer, and June had been requested to get up earlier today to work the session around Maya's longer, drifting days. June set her alarm for what she thought was the last minute, but had hit the snooze once, and was now running exactly that five minutes late.

On getting to one of the Computer labs, she found Maya waiting, along with a guard. She was thankful it wasn't the first officer, even though the guard might report delays to his boss for all June knew. Still, it was a minor relief as she apologized to both of them. The guard then left. Apparently June was trusted after all. A flash of nervousness ran through June, however. Maybe Maya was not so trusted by June. She shook her head, deciding that to distrust Maya on racial reasons would be hypocritical.

Maya said to June, "I am sorry if you had to rise much earlier this morning due to my--"

"No, it sometimes happens, and I don't have a good excuse. Don't worry about the timing."

They finally got down to business, and June was surprised yet not surprised to find Maya had absorbed all the 'gridded' information from the tome describing machine code, assembly code, and 3GSCL code. Maya added, "I am still reading through some of the longer, less gridded descriptions; but I believe I understand all the instructions, the length of each command block, and for most, the parameters. I do have a few questions, however."

The specifics consumed nearly an hour, but even from the questions asked, it was stunningly clear just how much Maya had absorbed. Some of the questions proved interesting, almost seeming like windows into the Psychon's thought processes when it came to computers in general. Some even sounded like hints of possible enhancements to Computer. June took some notes.

It was when June showed Maya one of the modules that things got interesting. She had considered just discussing it at the 3GSCL level, but given how much -- and what -- Maya had learned, June changed her course, and showed the machine language of the module. Maya started discussing each command, but June wasn't interested in that, and directed Maya to just read her way through the machine code and try to decipher the main purpose of the module. Maya nodded, and started reading, mostly silently but with occasional mumbling in what June assumed was Psychon. It was several minutes of reading, and then Maya started talking.

"Keyboard input. Numeric keys with primacy. Other keys are in the mathematic overlay mode, or a special-use keypad I have not seen here yet. Trigometric... I mean trigonometric. Basic addition, subtraction, multiplication, remainders, integer math, simple algebraics and integration. Output of results to cards, thin paper, or small screen. I think this is a module to accept requests for mathematical calculations, process them, and display or print results."

Damn, she really can read -- and understand -- most machine code now. How does she learn a 'language' so fast? Something about the 'grids' Maya kept mentioning perhaps played a role. Maybe that was why Maya was so anxious to preserve the over-rapid page displays that were a symptom of the hyper-interlacing bug. "Okay, that is exactly correct. And yes, there is a special math-oriented keyboard dedicated to presenting more specialized keys than the overlay system has." June took Maya over to show her one -- Computer labs had examples of every keyboard, for testing purposes. June had her try it. At first, Maya did nothing but stare at the new keyboard. Then, when Maya stated the input numbers she was trying for some very complicated test calculations, she also listed the results -- also ahead of the display. Either she knew some complex calculations by rote, or simply was that fast at calculation. June suddenly doubted Maya would ever need to actually use the module she had just read her way to understanding.

There was no doubt June could assign Maya access to the display subroutines -- on a read-only basis at first -- to see if she could read her way to the bug. June handed Maya a new book to start looking at while June went over to a monitor to log in, navigate to the code security screens, and grant Maya the necessary access. She walked back to Maya and showed her how to use the Workstation Access portion of the AIS to have more direct access -- however still limited -- to the more central parts of Main Computer from her quarters, beyond just AIS.

June explained this task, then moved to other topics.

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.

A-362 DAB 1700-1830: Shifting Dinner

Maya had been looking forward to dinner today.

Week'ends were supposed to be for relaxing, which is what she found tinkering with electronics and looking through computer code modules to be, having spent much of today's second'part doing both. She read her way through the display module code, occasionally looking at the master reference for things she did not know yet. She found some code that seemed improper. She had studied it for awhile, and realized it was exactly what she was looking for. The odd thing was that the source code the machine'code had been translated from did not seem to share analogous instructions. Either there was a flaw in the translator, some of the machine'code had become corrupt, or the flaw was injected by outside influence.

June had indicated the flaw was at least a few months old, but might have gone unreported for months before. There had been no sense of urgency. Maya decided she would send an elecpost to June about it, that she had found the flaw, and that she was thinking about how to isolate it and also make it a selectable option.

Now, though, she put technical thoughts aside and called a guard. To her surprise, Tony showed up. She did not ask why, and he offered no reason, only some small'talk on the walk from the block of smaller single quarters to the block of larger married quarters. They reached the quarters of Bill and Annette, to where she had been invited, and where Janina was also going to be, to have dinner and some fun. That suited Maya just fine, and it warmed her heart to be invited again, this time with another person she was already friends with.

She was beginning to feel a little guilty for not having had anyone over for a meal at her own quarters yet; but between still just beginning to learn Alphan cooking and gathering supplies, her strange schedule, it being mostly out of her control until now, and timing factors on the part of others, it had only been brief visits from a few of the people she knew best. She had not even had a chance to invite one of her neighbors, like Sally. She decided she would correct all of that at some point; but she was glad they were simply generous without seeming to expect reciprocity yet.

Maya had not expected a new Alphan there. Annette carried out the introductions, in the typical Alphan pattern.

"Kate, this is Maya. Maya, this is Sandra Katherine Bullen; but everyone calls her Kate to avoid confusion."

Maya smiled, then with a single laugh, said, "For once, I can understand that."

Everyone laughed then, including Kate. Even Tony did, looking a little surprised too.

"It is good to meet you, Kate," Maya said with a smile.

"Same here."

The woman had dark brown, wavy and partially curly hair. Her cheeks had a slight bit of faint extra shading, not unlike a few other Alphan women. On the latter, Maya had at first wondered if it was natural or Alphan makeup; Helena had explained it was makeup and not atypical.

With everyone seeming to be relaxed, Tony excused himself. Bill or Annette had apparently called him due to the new introduction. Then Bill said, "Ladies, have fun," turned, and left as well.

Maya was startled. Where was Bill going? Wasn't he supposed to eat dinner as well?

"Last minute change of plans. Just the girls," Annette's voice sounded happily in Maya's ears, to the light laughter of the other two women. Maya quickly interpolated 'girls' was generalized to 'females' in this context, but did not know what was funny.

Annette proceeded to the nearby food'station, and commented, "Cooking for four is a little much for one of these, though I did most of the prep work already. Just don't expect anything fancy, but I can get a little creative at least."

"You can get a little creative?" Kate said, laughing a little. Maya smiled too, already knowing Annette was creative.

The smell of food soon started filling the air, and Maya occasionally observed Annette's process at a distance, even while the sound of conversation filled the air. For more than fifteen minutes, Annette sometimes sitting down but always listening and participating, there was a lot of small'talk. Some Maya could understand, or partially understand, but some she seemed to be completely missing the context or some prior events in the timeline vital to understanding the current content.

Kate looked at Maya now and then, with a neutral expression Maya could not interpret. She did so more than Janina and Annette, though they looked at Maya now and then too. Maya assumed she was supposed to say something, eventually; but the few times she thought of a partial response, the conversation had shifted topics already. It was flitting about like a dortra'elan did from flower to flower.

She reminded herself that social situations were highly dynamic. She had experienced and seen such when she had been a girl, but that had been a long time ago, before everyone died or left Psychon. Such social dynamics were long unfamiliar, and now involved aliens that were very similar culturally yet with lots of small and sometimes larger differences.

It was only when they started talking about 'expecting more dratted spacesuit drills any day now' that she finally found an opening.

"How often do they run such drills? I only received an imprecise answer of 'once and awhile.'"

"Oh, the officers like to keep you on your toes," Janina said. "Sometimes it will be twice in a week, sometimes not for weeks. That's not counting the times we had to don them for real emergencies."

"Like soap sud city," Kate commented.

Maya thought it was perhaps an Alphan joke, but no one was laughing. What is unusual about being on one's toes? Soap sud city? She had an answer to her original question, though, so she skipped asking about what she assumed were metaphors. She had a new question, however. "Why wouldn't they just state intended times or intervals?" She was genuinely curious, but then inwardly cringed slightly when she realized it sounded somewhat critical. Before she could decide whether to apologize, Annette laughed slightly and answered in an even tone.

"That's what the saying 'keeping you on your toes' means: random intervals, chosen so we don't get complacent."

"Ah." Now all of Janina's statement made sense. Kate's soap comment still didn't, but it seemed chosen for the benefit of the Alphans -- the other Alphans, she corrected herself -- and apparently of no critical relevance to the core topic. Tangent, she thought, recalling the wonderful mathematical-inspired metaphor Alphans used to refer to conversational content as well. She was familiar with conversational shifts among Psychons, certainly, but having trouble sometimes grasping the core context among Alphans, the tangents often represented surprise and total context shifts to her, where she had little or no idea what the connection was.

Since their conversations often permanently followed the tangent, then another tangent, and then another -- again not unfamiliar to her in a Psychon context but often very difficult to follow in an Alphan context so far -- she was often left feeling confused and uncertain when to ask questions, not wanting to disrupt the flow of the conversation.

Thankfully, dinner was served, already on plates and in bowls as small portions of a variety of items. A salad, bread, some protein-based item she was unfamiliar with, unknown tubular vegetables, the often-present rice, and a light-colored sauce. Annette announced the contents seemingly to no one in particular, but Maya estimated it was most likely for her benefit: "Pork -- well, protein textured and flavored sort of like pork. Salad, rolls, asparagus, rice, and... with some of the first of this year's apples... what I hope is a decent applesauce."

"Oh, wow, lucky you to get some first," Kate said.

"Lucky us, you mean," Janina replied.

"You got that right, Joan," Kate replied, digging into that first.

Maya was tempted to make bread'salad as usual, but she had previously found the roll form was an awkward substrate at best, and the situation made the idea seem awkward for some reason. It was the first time Annette had presented the ingredients, yet Annette had just constructed this particular arrangement--

"Leave it to an artist to make dinner look artistic," Janina commented.

-- and it was not like the cafeterias where people ate mostly out of the sight of the chefs, and sometimes re-arranged or salted or "spiced up" their food to whatever preference they had.

So she looked around to see what everyone was trying first. Apple'sauce. So she tried it. Sugary, but not dessert'matrix sugary. Ohhh.... "Delicious!" She didn't entirely realize she said the last aloud until everyone else added confirmation.

"Thank you very much," Annette said.

"You're welcome," Maya said almost reflexively. Other than the alien words -- the first one being a fusion she was aware was strangely spelled as a contraction -- the habit was long-ingrained. Anar : anra. Thank you : you're welcome. These and rana -- please -- were important social words here just as on Psychon.

The other women then switched to varying foods, so Maya tried the pseudopork, and found it to her liking. The salad was a little boring away from bread, milk, and salt, but was fine. Maya noticed hers was without the foul tomatoes, but the other three had the small tomatoes. Annette had clearly remembered Maya's dislike of that food. There was going to be leftover vinegar, so she decided to save part of her roll to dip -- something not unlike what she had seen others do with rolls, which would probably be fine here too, she suspected. In fact, Maya recalled Bill dipping his roll in protein'sauce on a prior occasion.

It was when she reached the asparagus that there was a problem. It tasted unpleasant, and just as bad, felt like she was eating string. She paused, unsure whether to finish chewing and swallowing it, and shifting it to metamass if it felt poisonous, or just to use her cloth napkin to--

"Not your thing?" Annette asked from across the table.

Maya shook her head. It was tasting worse and worse in her mouth.

"Don't worry about it; it's one thing I never learned to cook well in a microwave, and you're not the only one who doesn't like the taste either."

"May I?" Janina asked, bringing her fork towards Maya's plate a little.

Maya understood immediately, and nodded. Janina and Kate quickly redistributed the asparagus amongst themselves and Annette as well, while Maya discretely used her napkin. Little or nothing seemed to go to waste on Alpha, but this food'substance was absolutely hideous, and she really had not wanted to finish eating it.

"Do you like mixed peas and carrots?" Annette asked.

"I've never had them mixed, but I like the separate components."

"Well, if you don't mind leftovers, I have a serving I can heat up."

"You don't have to."

"I don't mind."

"Yes, please." There was silence for a few moments, but Maya finally had another topic. "We had plants similar to peas and carrots. They even tasted similar."

"Same species?"

"I touched growing pea plants once here, and it felt like a similar pattern, though I cannot know further."

"Felt like a similar pattern?" Kate asked.

Maya had not meant to inject any conversation about the ability Alphans found so strange and even fear-generating. It had been so natural to discuss on Psychon, but she had been trying to avoid it here. Yet this had slipped past. Maya hesitated, then briefly explained this aspect, of sensing patterns. Kate looked at her hand briefly, as if realizing Maya had probably done the same during the handshake. The other two women asked what they called 'curiosity questions.'

Maya had wondered from the start about what to do or say about the contact instinct, having found it quite impossible to suppress the action of metasensing on handshake. She had debating asking Helena, but at that point had feared the reaction. Yet she had subsequently provided information to the officers where they could easily extrapolate it, and she had seen the hand-glancing a couple of times. Some other Alphans had avoided contact or had looked like they wanted to avoid it but shook hands anyway. After awhile, she had simply decided to let her concerns pass, even if there was some risk. She didn't want to stop shaking hands. Part of her felt rude, but part of her felt too concerned about breaking Alphan social convention, or outright revealing that instinct. She had decided to take her chances.

For her part, Kate seemed to get past whatever she felt on guessing at Maya's contact metasense, asking a curiosity question herself, not about the sense, but transformation. The conversation remained on that topic for a minute.

"What about carrots?" Janina soon asked, to Maya's relief, since a small dose of main'talk about metamorphosis was probably enough, even with a recognizably intense curiosity among the Alphans. Yet she found herself relieved that others besides the officers were willing to talk about it nicely with Maya, and decided if these women wanted to ask more another time, that would be fine.

"I have not seen growing carrots here, but even prepared, they seem so similar. Asparagus is alien to me."

Maya started berating herself over the sharpness of the last statement, but all the women laughed, even Annette, who had been listening and now approached with the peas and carrots, which Maya accepted with a smile and thanks. "Some of this other food is alien to me as well, but I have been enjoying most of it on Alpha."

"I'm glad to hear that," Janina said.

"Carrots are grown in Botany," Kate commented. "You haven't been there yet, have you?"

"No, just Hydroponics."

Conversation moved to Hydroponics, and after a few more questions on the others' parts, Maya was soon discussing hydroponics'techniques she had practiced herself.

"I can't say I know much about any of this," Janina commented, to other headshakes.

"What did Thomas Hayden have to say about these ideas?" Kate asked.

"We... did not get this far in our discussion. Another meeting is supposed to be arranged some time."

Conversation during the meal continued, the topics shifting again, Maya growing mostly quiet, occasionally complementing the food.

At one point, though, Kate looked at Maya's hair, and said, "It looks like you've had a chance to use some of the hair supplies."

"Were you one who provided some on my second day here?"

"Yes."

"I didn't know who else had done that, so I asked Janina to thank everyone; but I am glad to thank you personally. I was feeling a little lost, and the chance to do something normal with my hair felt so... comforting. Thank you."

"I can understand that. You're welcome. That's a beautiful hairstyle."

"Thank you."

When the meal was finished, Annette rejected any attempt for others to clear dishes from the table, doing so only by herself. Everyone else moved away from the table, to the chairs in the room, of which there were more present than the last time. Some are borrowed? Maya wondered. Annette didn't bother washing the dishes yet, instead soon sitting with the rest.

The conversation started taking a new general turn, becoming less about situations and more about the people. Now she really had trouble keeping up. Relationships, personalities, and recent events involving them. Very rich detail but at a pace and with no basis of her own, she absorbed little of it, and found herself not thinking of anything to say, however late. She simply tried to process what she could, which was little and decreasing.

It started feeling vaguely inappropriate that she even be present when she didn't know most of those people at all, or only by brief meeting. She wondered if there was a polite way to excuse herself, but could not determine one, so she sat still and tried to process the information. Much of it was so far from familiar context that she absorbed little, and she tried to keep up. When she concentrated too much on trying to compute the meaning of one set of statements, she scarcely heard and didn't absorb other parts of the conversation.

Oddly, however, the context began feeling more and more recognizable. Why? Humans had a previously-unfamiliar word, dejavu, which despite multiple attempts to explain she still really did not understand. Was this dejavu?

Then the light hit her. Women'talk, like she had sometimes overheard during pre-adolescence, like an adult version of talking among Maya and her peers. Likewise, sometimes men would talk among only themselves. Or boys. Women'talk, men'talk, girl'talk, boy'talk, people'talk. It was the social'matrix, sometimes called the social'fabric in what Maya realized was a rare Psychon synonym. Family, friends, subcommunities, communities. All already dying with the planet, but still going until the fabric had fallen apart too much under a metaphorical acid that had preceded the literal acid of Psychon becoming heavily volcanic.

Maya mentally shook away the darker thoughts, not wanting them to ruin these discoveries: good memories of Psychon; that the Alphans practiced such too; that they had invited her, Maya, an alien. It was a startling set of revelations and surprises. Had Annette invited her for simple dinner and the women'talk was an accident? Maybe not. "Just the girls," Maya remembered. She had no illusions this transformed her from outsider to insider, considering she scarcely understood most of the discussion and probably wouldn't for some time, if she was ever invited again. Still, her heart suddenly felt warmed that they would do this even once.

"... she had been losing patience with Tony, apparently had some argument with him, and broke off the relationship."

Maya found herself snapping back to attention at the mention of Tony's name, and she had just recovered the prior few words of what Annette had just said. It had taken Maya a couple moments for that part to even register, and she suddenly listened intently, not even realizing more intently than at any point in the last halfhour.

"Lost patience, I could see that."

"Her, lose patience?" Laughter.

"How long ago was that?"

"About a week, maybe more," Kate said. "From what I gather from stuff my boyfriend heard, he was pretty well tired of her attitude anyway."

"Well, even so, if he doesn't even want to answer the ex-girlfriends question if asked...." Lots more laughter.

Maya had gathered what boy'friend and girl'friend meant. Why did Alphan women care so much about previous romantic relationships? Wasn't that a private matter? If a man wanted me, what would I care about past relationships instead of what he is showing me now and how he will treat me and my children in the future? No, if an Alphan actually shows me romantic interest, I'm not going to chase him away prying into private, past, failed relationships. What does that say about new and different ones?

The thoughts had slipped into her conscious mind immediately, curiously with the image of Tony attached to it. She almost physically shook her head. Tony had shown Maya no such interest. He kept looking at her, but from what Maya saw, either to assess her mood and still sometimes seemingly her threat level, or something. Actually, she didn't know why most of the time.

She had not known he had a romantic relationship, but now knew that he did not have one now. It had not crossed her mind to wonder about that before. Did human females consider him attractive? She had essentially no idea of their standards. For all Maya knew, Tony might be popular with them. Maya again felt her thoughts were getting silly and greedy, and dismissed them.

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 defence, 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.

M-364 DAB 1400-1600: Necessary Redundancy

"Okay, this afternoon's first topic is the Walkaround. Regarding Eagles, it is the responsibility of the Technical team to repair and maintain the Eagle, and that team has a lead who, besides doing work himself, also signs off the work to a pilot at the end, and it is the pilot's responsibility to do a final inspection of the Eagle. However, even before any sign-off stage, it is the tech lead's responsibility to show a pilot the work that was done, before everything is buttoned up."

Buttoned up? Maya wondered, getting an image of clothing and then realizing the metaphor. Yet what he was saying sounded awfully--

"Questions?"

"So the Technical team is not bothered by their work being questioned?"

"Overall, no, not if you do it professionally, though that's not to say some don't get a little more defensive about their work. They feel pride in it too, so you also have to wonder a little about someone who doesn't seem to care at all."

Maya wasn't sure she understood all of that. Pride was certainly not unknown on Psychon. Pride to the exclusion of external questions was rare. Psychons were too curious about too many things for one's work not to provoke questions in others. In retrospect, she wondered if the lack of any seriously-probing external questions had been part of the downfall of her father. Maya had asked questions, but had been too-easily soothed by her father's answers. Abruptly, she realized she had to be on guard now about letting herself casually accepting warning signs. Perhaps that was also what Alan meant by his last statement.

Alan could see Maya's expression get suddenly distant, then virtually unreadable, even while Sandra nodded gently, obviously seeing the wisdom, perhaps from her own supervisory experience.

This was part of why he had carefully worked out the placement of chairs around the round table, through trial and error, placing trainees both on the same quarter of the table, but on nearly opposite sides of that quarter, while he was in the middle of his own quarter. It put the trainees closer together, and partially fostered feelings of them being a team, yet being trainees, opposite of the trainers. Too distant to cheat off each other, but close enough to feed off each other to a degree, building a little teamwork between them. The trainer could quickly assess the reactions of both trainees.

"Does that make sense?" he asked.

"Yes," Sandra said simply.

"Yes, I think so," Maya said.

"Many times, the actual flight pilot will first board the Eagle when it is already up on a pad. He -- or she -- thus cannot do the walk-around pre-flight inspection. That responsibility is thus in the hands of another pilot down below, who starts the pre-flight inspection before the scheduled flight."

"And in emergencies?" Sandra asked.

"Good question. I'll cover emergencies a little later." He paused, then resumed his prior line of discussion. "In some cases, though, the pilot will start down with the Eagle in the bay, and in that case, it is the flight pilot's responsibility to do a walkaround. Questions?" He could already see one of Maya's most readily-understandable expressions: puzzlement.

"Is that not inefficient?" Maya asked, then paused. "Though I suppose it does add extra safety, like with having extra spacesuits around the base, besides those assigned to a particular person."

"Exactly. Efficiency is valuable, but safety more so. There is a balance, but the balance must always favor safety, within reason -- except where overruled by emergency. However, the pilot's inspection isn't just about redundancy and safety. It is about something else. Any idea what?"

Maya shook her head.

"Responsibility," Sandra said simply and clearly.

"Maya, any idea why?"

"Responsibility for assuring the Eagle is flight ready."

It was a literally correct answer, but little more than re-confirming she had been listening, not of greater understanding. "Yes, but there is more. Think about what you are doing, in general, when you accept the controls to a spaceship."

"Flying a mission. Something has to be completed, and it needs a working ship."

That was better, but.... "What else?"

She thought for awhile, then an expression of understanding came over her curious features. "I am carrying people on board. I am responsible for others."

"Correct." He carefully studied her reaction to her own thought, and found it hard to pick out the subtlety. Did she find that idea a little unnerving? Was she accepting it too casually? These were key questions, posed to whomever he thought most interesting to direct it to; but for the first time, he could not read a trainee's expression on this point.

So he looked over to Sandra instead, and catching her a little off-guard, noticed a bit of trepidation. Though she almost certainly knew the answer he had been looking for, the still-too-recent loss of Paul might be preying on her mind.

Moving his eyes back to Maya, he spotted her fingers moving, tensing a little, and abruptly fully recognized something he had half-noticed before: that though her often-expressive face might sometimes be unreadable, she had another 'tell': her hands. Her nimble fingers seemed in motion a lot, sometimes more than other times -- and this was more towards the former. Good, she understands the seriousness, but it isn't really overwhelming her. In a sense, she had taken responsibility for Alphan lives -- all of them -- back on Psychon. Maybe this reminded her of that a little, good and bad: that she had been able to do it, but perhaps also that it was not entirely welcome.

Oddly, though their reactions manifested differently, Sandra's and Maya's seemed to add up to about the same level of concern. Just about right, actually. Neither too cavalier nor too petrified.

That Sandra had, a few months ago, sought out finishing one of her remaining unfilled points of officer training, and Maya had volunteered, were good signs; but he had now found some points to explore. Yet he had to keep in mind they were women -- and one was an alien -- and might just show what men either tried to cover with stoicism or machismo. All were useful reactions in different ways, in balance or partially tempered, anyway. There was no right way, and neither woman rang severe warning bells, though he would keep an eye on them regarding this point. This particular training program was still less than a year old, and these were only the second and third women through it, and only the fifteenth and sixteenth trainees total. Alpha wasn't in a position to refuse pilots unless they were totally unsuitable, but that didn't mean Capt. Carter didn't look for potential weaknesses among each and every trainee, and try to train them out of it or add compensating factors -- or if worse came to worst, consider scrubbing them out.

He covered the conditions under which pilots would run pre-flight inspections on their own ships.

"Neither of us are experts on Eagle design," Sandra eventually said, even though she surely knew that he knew that perfectly well. Maybe she was making the point for Maya's benefit.

"Pilots are not Technicians, though even after you get your Level 1 wings, you will continue to learn more about Eagle systems and be able to repair more and more of them in-flight. Regardless, a pre-flight inspection by a pilot is not necessarily about under-the-panel expertise, but in checking what you can in a limited time and with limited technical knowledge, and making sure that you feel comfortable with what you see."

"How can one feel comfortable with an incomplete scan?" Maya asked.

"You do what you can, just as an additional layer of checks."

He could tell the Psychon did not entirely understand. She had referred to 'scan,' and the way she phrased it suggested cultural differences to the way they approached flying machines -- not to mention that maybe they can easily scan the entirety of a ship down to the circuit level between each flight. Too bad, she would have to learn new approaches. She seemed bright enough.

The next, typical step, for both of them, would either make Maya more or less confused, hopefully the latter. "Okay, ladies, why don't we all get up and head to the bay."

Since Eagle training took place close to the subjects of the training, for several reasons, exiting the meeting/training room, it was only a few doors to one of the hangar bay's airlocks. After a pause to explain the last, Alan led the way towards a specially prepared Eagle 19.

Maya already thought the Eagle was primitive technologically, yet clever and elegant at the same time. The system of detachable pods was rare among space'ships she had flown, seen, or read about. Escape pods were common, but not so much larger-scale swapping. The highly-stable artificial gravitation system, which in her mind spoke of a couple centuries of space'flight development by their culture, was cleverly integrated, providing gravity inside and some anti-gravity lift outside. They might have a primitive level of technology, but were using it very cleverly, even with limitations.

As she walked next to Sandra, behind Alan, towards a particular Eagle, she noticed other people, mostly brown'sleeve Technicians, with some orange'sleeve Pilots. All present among them, at the moment at least, were males, except for one female technician in the distance. Some took notice of Maya and Sandra, and Maya again adopted a slight smile and tried not to react further to their still-confusing stares. She had met all of them already, but as with so many other Alphans, these still stared at her a little -- but also as usual, a little less than on first meeting. Fortunately, Terrans seemed to have rules about staring too long, just like Psychons. Perhaps it was a common rule among civilized psychonoid races. Still, it was not surprising that she would receive more staring for a longer time, and she just had to continue dealing with it.

After making a little bit of minimal and distant eye contact, she eventually turned her eyes forward, to look at the ship. Though nowhere near as advanced as Psychon ships, these Alphan ships were fascinating in their own right, and she just enjoyed looking at its size "grow" as she got closer. This was the first she got to really focus on one from the outside more closely. It was, except for the curves of the pilot module, tanks at the back, and the engine bells, almost completely straight lines. A ship with lots of changing angles and interconnecting external components. It was a most unique space'ship, and she found herself admiring its starkly geometrical beauty. Though she had heard it was named after an Alphan word for a class of bird, it reminded Maya more of an insect.

Alan stopped near the Eagle stairway. The two landing pods were like imposing guards to either side of her. The bottom'side had had eight vertical thrusters at eye level, all across the bottom of the ship. They were needed to force the Eagle upwards until enough space was created to engage the external component of the artificial gravity system to create an anti-gravitational effect on the bottom of the ship, allow the vertical thrusters to power down, and the main engines to power up and push the craft forward. The four feet on the undersurface of the pod were clearly visible too. She had already learned these were for when the pod was detached from the Eagle's frame, for storage or due to special mission needs.

Oddly, a panel on the undersurface was hanging open. "Alan, is that panel meant to be open?" she asked, pointing to it.

Sandra smiled, as if she had seen it all along and was hoping Maya would latch onto the point of the exercise.

Alan laughed. "No, Maya, on a well-prepped ship, it should not be."

On her own, she walked towards it, not seeing Alan and Sandra exchange a brief look behind her.

"This looks like it could be closed easily enough," Maya said. It was a panel with a simple pair of latches.

"Do you want to do that?"

"Yes." After further thought, she changed her opinion. "No. Maybe something was not finished inside." She peered up into the panel. "This says 'locked' here, but the handle is not turned that way." She looked at Alan briefly, not sure she should touch the ship without permission, but he simply nodded, so she turned back. He stepped towards her to watch more closely as she turned the handle. She then commented that there was nothing more to check inside, closed and secured the hatch, then looked at Alan.

"Very good. Ladies, fan out, and look for other possible problems. If you see one, call for attention, and we'll both take a look."

Sandra found the next one immediately. "This flag is hanging from a pitot, right?" she said, looking up at a small exposed component at far over her height, with a long, thin, red pennant hanging down to her waist level.

"Yep. It is an old fashion atmospheric sensor we keep covered when the ship is not in use, to keep dust out, and this flag hangs down to well below inspector's eye level for both visibility during a walkaround, and so you can pull it forward some and more easily pull it off. Go ahead. There are other sensors used as more accurate readings, but if those fail, this serves as a classic backup. Okay, give me the flagged cap. Next."

They spread out, but with those first two and the next four items, they alternated between who found something. He wondered if Sandra was letting Maya find just as many, thinking, Leave it to women to band together rather than compete for the most finds, with a little irritation that they or at least Sandra might be violating the intent -- or at least part of what Alan wanted to observe about the trainees -- a little. Yet not long after thinking it, Maya's finds trailed off and Sandra slowed but started catching more than Maya, as the easy finds were all taken care of. Maybe just coincidence, he thought. In the end, neither trainee found two more before his watch started beeping. "Time!" he called.

"15.0 minutes," Maya said casually, as if she had been asked a question.

He resisted the urge to laugh or smile. Huh, good sense of time? "No, exercise complete. A normal pilot walkaround should only be about five minutes or so, but you were given more as novices and for taking time to discuss finds. Not bad, but you both missed two items." He walked over to the first, which was a small, recessed panel within reach but not easy view. Then he walked over to the second. "This bolt here is within your reach. What should you have done, Maya?" The first question's answer was obvious; but there would be more questions, and he was almost certain Sandra would know each answer in fractions of a heartbeat, whereas Maya might only get the first.

"Check it by hand," Maya said, stepping forward to try it. "It is loose." As with the other items the women had proceeded to try fixing, Maya having stopped looking for visual permission from Alan to attempt a solution, she tightened the bolt by hand, then stopped, stared awhile, so long he thought she would miss it, but then.... "I do not know the proper... force to apply. What is the word for tension force applied to--"

"Torque. The word is torque. What next?"

"I get a.... I... I do not know. Am I supposed to effect completion?"

"If you're on a mission and do not have someone else available, yes, and you'll learn some basics in this training and later courses after Level 1 certification. No matter what, though, a pilot on walkaround in a hangar does not finish tasks like this. You're supposed to call someone over and complain."

"Complain?" Maya asked.

Sandra was rather meek herself, but Alan had constantly seen flashes of strength, the ability to put forth her opinion, and the ability to give orders. Maya seemed downright afraid of insulting a human, and that fear would not do, only discipline would, including from her as a pilot.

"Yeah, just go ahead."

She looked nervous, then seemed to find some inner strength, the hesitation disappearing as she turned and walked to the nearest tech, and brought the situation to his attention. Of course, everyone, including Maya, knew it was arranged, but Maya carried it out and the tech responded as he should.

"I know this is a... drill," Maya said afterwards, "so the number of 'mistakes' is exaggerated, but by how much?"

It was a very intelligent question. "You'll rarely find one at all, but if you do, report it to an on-duty tech. If you find two issues at once, you should probably find the supervisor on duty, or Diane if she happens to be present in the same hangar at that time. But people are only human -- I mean accidental oversights can happen. I don't want any, and drill against them, to minimize them, but they cannot entirely be eliminated."

"I understand. Mistakes happen. All people are flawed, we just have to work harder...." She trailed off, apparently recognizing she had just categorized herself with humans, and not sure how either one present at the moment would react to that.

"Absolutely," Alan casually answered. "Someone can get distracted at a key point, and accidentally check off something as closed or dogged, even though it is not -- or something else like that."

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.

"Thank you," was her simple reply, in a neutral tone.

The Commander called Tony, and while he returned from Command Center, John asked Maya if she still felt like returning to the discussion session.

"Of course, it has only been 19.4 minutes."

"That is not what I meant. After all we talked about, I thought...."

"I would rather not think about it further for the moment."

[End of second part]