The Half'star system always did evoke some curiosity among our people.
It is not thought that Psychons traveled any closer to the Alk^inharda
than Half'star at any prior point; but Half'star itself did garner some
attention. Why a single star should have exactly one gas giant planet,
rather than no planets or several, was always a puzzle that only seemed
to lend credence to the legends that the Giants' War disrupted this star
system. Even less credible is the author's own speculation that perhaps
this system was the original one of the Kor'ayi, the ancient enemy of the
Orca'ayi. It is a sad if somewhat indulgent irony that, if legends are to be
believed, that there is one star system bereft of all but one planet, not far
from another system bereft of one planet. Psychon's neighborhood has
has seen much chaos over eons, and far emptier star systems as a result.

[from A Brief History of Psychon]

W-366 DAB 1820-1850: Study in Dissonance

The "Half Star" system was still three days away, and though some were skeptical about believing the words of an alien that it was a quiet, near-desolate system, it wasn't this which had created a few days of contrasting, dissonant moods.

In general, the residents of Moonbase Alpha had grown progressively quieter, in a sometimes obvious and often much more subtle ways, as everyone recognized the day that was coming, and had now arrived.

Yet, there had been a strange splash in the last few days: startling news that garnered much notice.

In a sense, the timing had been perfect, for the increasingly contemplative mood was perhaps the most fertile bed for the strange news to take better, more constructive root in. Yet perhaps some of it was the strange evasiveness evident in Alphan minds when thinking about the subject.

Even now, part of John's mind resisted turning to the subject, thinking he should really get back to reviewing his speech for later today. He reminded himself he wanted to include mention of the recent surprises in that speech, and finally got to thinking how it had unfolded.

Smitty had, with Maya, uncovered something that had been secretly planted in Alphans: a degree of linguistic knowledge they had not owned at Breakaway. It had been a secret which seemingly protected itself by dampening, redirecting, and dispersing suspicion. Yet if stared at long enough, something seemed odd. Smitty, bemused as others had been by Maya's odd gaps in her English, had finally been drawn to an obvious question most had ignored: how she, or other aliens, even spoke English in the first place.

The initial answer to that question now seemed almost mundane compared to what had followed, but that first answer was nonetheless rather startling on its own: that a spacefaring race known as the Khorask seemed to gather linguistic data, by unknown means, and bartered such information to other races and species. Psychons had bought numerous arrays, many of which Maya had memorized.

Yet something kept bothering Smitty, that in viewing recordings of interactions with some aliens, if listening and staring long enough, a sense of disconnect would start growing between the visual and the auditory portions. A known flaw occasionally displacing video and audio portions in Terran 'square'-design memory units could have explained it, but it didn't explain the strange feeling. He had persisted, contacted Maya again, and together they had uncovered that in some cases, Alphans were speaking an alien language, and not realizing it.

After reporting it, Smitty quickly volunteered to study it further. He was not even a professional linguist, but he knew more than anyone but the now deserted Anna Davis. Maya, though knowing more languages, was not really even a linguist, just someone who saw languages as masses of useful raw data. Sandra knew three human languages and soon volunteered to help study this new discovery and aid Smitty in making a proper, if hasty, study. She was granted authority to bring in test subjects, while Maya became the only useful control subject, having come by languages very independently.

Some could not participate at all, for they did not have any true language skills yet: the Alphan children. All had been born after the encounter with the Black Sun, of which the adults knew they had a gap in their memory. Most babies had been born after the second incident garnering speculation regarding the 'linguistic gift' -- the encounter with Atheria and its queen, Arra. A few children had been born in between, Sandra pointed out. It would be years, however, before anyone could find out if the children born between the two events showed any signs of the knowledge the adults had mysteriously gained. A positive result would be startling. A negative result would mean little, because it was entirely possible the bestower might have chosen to ignore the infants in this regard, out of safety, disinterest, or the infants simply not having the minds to accept such knowledge.

For now, initial studies of adults had proven very interesting. Clive Kander was roused late on that Sunday evening to dig out every non-classified record of aliens speaking. Some later-shift Alphans were recruited as subjects that night, and more the next day. They had stared at the recordings, finding 'linguistic dissonance' -- as Sandra soon dubbed it -- became apparent, then stronger the longer someone listened, watched, and concentrated on the speaker's mouth. The more they stared, the more dissonance, and the more disconcerting it grew to the viewer, almost to the point of nausea -- like they were not supposed to probe too far. Yet after a few moments of not watching the recordings, the discomfort would fade, followed by the dissonant feeling vanishing. The viewer would again be thinking there was no mismatch, that the aliens were speaking English. The subject had to concentrate for awhile for that dissonant sense to start returning.

Someone pointed out that concentrating too hard on any one thing, however familiar or normal, could sometimes lead to the mind momentarily treating it as less familiar. Yet this seemed different, stronger, and more selective, since some recordings did not trigger this unique dissonance. Plus, it was consistent, across all the people in the study.

Sandra guided Smitty into making sure the test subjects looked at each recording separately from each other, and that each rotated through the same recordings, so each selected recording was viewed by more than one person. This was a new and unknown phenomenon, and scientific principles were being applied despite this moderately hasty first stage of the study. The principles included a number of 'blinds' to try avoiding cross-contamination of results. Maya was kept behind one 'blind' for awhile too, as the control subject, to identify what she could from her very different viewpoint.

Once the study was far enough along to be sure it was running correctly, Smitty and Sandra had started reading Maya's written statements. In some cases, Maya said it was English being spoken, evidently obtained by the alien speakers from the Khorask, directly or indirectly -- or from other sources. In other cases, it was an alien language she recognized, with or without the name of the language. In some cases, she did not recognize the language at all.

John paused from his musings. He was kicking himself for not having insisted on written reports earlier than upon discovery of the 'monkeying' issue stemming from the Hydroponics department manager partially blocking Maya. John had been more interested in catching up with Maya and the other parties for one-on-one discussions with himself, wanting the chance to brainstorm with each side. His follow-ups, however, had not always been immediate and the problem had slipped in and spread some.

Now he was starting to receive reports from various parties, including from John's subsequently asking for retroactive summaries. All of these were starting to trickle as people caught up.

Now, John was looking again at part of Smitty's first written report. The results were quite interesting, and he jumped to one part:

John then skipped past some other statements he had already read, and some of the preliminary conclusions, to focus on a stretch of the latter he found most interesting:

Commander Koenig could see Sandra's imprint in various aspects of the report, but also knew it was mostly of Smitty's hasty studies in the three days hence. It was an excellent job by both, it seemed, and John had not had any idea Smitty was capable of organizing such a study, and learning some methodology so quickly, even if it was under Sandra's guidance and oversight. Both had done well, especially with such rush.

Smitty had even thought of two other control measures: having Alphans study pre-Breakaway-produced square-format media records, of Terrans speaking English (and occasionally other languages), since the square format was a known factor in audio/visual misalignment; and of having Maya speak Psychon to test subjects, in person and on video.

In the case of Psychon, all Alphans reported complete ignorance of what Maya was saying, except for Tony Verdeschi thinking, correctly as it turned out, that ina might mean no. He had had a little exposure to Maya speaking Psychon, early on, and had apparently guessed correctly at one word.

Some 'square' format records garnered reports, generally consistent across subjects, of poor alignment -- but none of the striking feelings of dissonance. It was more a sense of amusement or familiar irritation about 'bad dubbing' or such statements.

Some other side tests comparing various formats were to be started.

What was already well underway was word of this surprise knowledge. It had spread like wildfire from those participating in the studies, apparently, but it was just as well. Tony was reporting a relatively high degree of equanimity about it, though not without some 'alien meddling' or similar phrases, yet even then, mostly chalking it up on the positive column, albeit not without hesitation. Everyone wondered about the 'how' and even more about the 'why' -- which also was healthy, John figured. He would address it today, in his speech. His mind began returning to the meaning of today, it solemnity, and the speech he intended to give, very shortly....

W-366 DAB 1900-2000: Commemoration

Today, much was being set aside. Essential duties were performed more quietly, with little excess conversation, except on a set of related topics. Many had asked for this day off duty, either outright or in trade for a day from whenever their normal weekend was.

Maya had quietly asked to be excused from any activity today, and though John didn't want her to think she had to stay in isolation in her room, decided not to make any argument. She knew what today was recalling, but had no experience of it.

The babies had no experience of it either, and were blissfully unaware, yet those babies among the crowds in various rooms seemed to soak in the quiet solemnity, and scarcely made sounds themselves.

The remaining 90% of Alpha were all too well aware of what today represented.

The main ceremony was in a room designated Main Observation, which was being dedicated today as part of the ceremony. The primary part of the ceremony, however, was a commemoration, and the Commander had long decided to remain more focused on that rather than his surroundings. Fifty gathered, the designated capacity of the room. Except for the Commander, everyone else was there by random computer drawing some days before. Many of the rest gathered in cafeterias or lounges throughout Alpha, to watch camera feeds from the ceremony, and listen. Between days off requested and it being evening now, the minimal crew manning vital stations watched or at least listened from they were.

This speech had taken awhile to write, and had been a challenge, one that he was not sure was as perfect as he wanted it to be, but which he did feel ready to give nonetheless. Some parts had been inspired by discussion with others, recent or past; some had come out of personal musings, likewise fresh or well established.

He took the podium and double-checked his notes were ready, though he had this one practically memorized. The crowd quieted without a word for attention being needed. Alpha grew hushed.

"Today we assemble, either in presence here, in gatherings elsewhere, or in thoughts as you carry out duties, cognizant that it is one year after September 13th, 1999. Today is September 13th, 2000. We still sometimes count time in terms of a world which is far behind us, in a location unknown to us, perhaps forever out of our reach. Yet we also count days in new terms: It is 366 Days After Breakaway. Yet it is a leap year by the old calendar many of us used, or still use in some contexts. So it is thus 1 Year After Breakaway.

"In many ways, we are caught between the old and new. Caught willingly or unwillingly or even both at the same time. Our beautiful, brilliant blue Earth is far behind us in space and perhaps in time as well, as we travel a new course. What may have been centuries or more to Earth has been but a year to us.

"Yet it has been a memorable year, in all senses of the word. Filled with shock.... Filled with pain.... Filled with hope.... Filled with determination...." He stopped after each statement, to let everyone silently add his or her own responses. "Grieving.... Striving.... Struggling.... Falling.... Getting back up.... Launching oneself further, even while feeling grounded....

"It has been a year of quiet mourning. Mourning for those we lost in the days before the disaster. Mourning for those we lost on that horrible day. Mourning -- and yes, in a way, mourning -- for those we left behind on Earth. Mourning for those we have lost along our difficult journey.

"We have suffered terrible losses, in tragedies with little or no explanation, or explanations we found difficult to understand or accept. Not one of us has escaped the effects of that day, not only for ourselves being thrown into the inky blackness, but for losing someone close to us back on Earth or here. Though Earth is lost to us, we could only hope and pray that our families, friends, and everyone else carried on, remembering us as we remember them, yet carrying on as we have had to carry on.

"Besides grief, we have found wonder, both at our survival, but what we have survived, and other surprises as well. Passing through a black sun almost unscathed, all thinking there was something more to the experience than we can recall. The gentle Kaldorians, seeking new hope on Earth. Sight of alternate versions of ourselves, re-settling Earth. A planet dying from perfection, brought back to imperfect life. The Moon with atmosphere, rain, and a final sunset. The Moon colliding with a planet and surviving, while the planet and its people disappear into new existence. Perhaps some of our ancestors having come to Earth from Arkadia. Ourselves, discovering we know several alien languages, like we have been given a gift from a benefactor we cannot identify. Beautiful planets in space, encountering things we had never imagined.

"We have found strength in struggle, survived one crisis after another, not always without loss, but with us intact as a people. I say people, because I believe our struggles and our coming together are forging us into a new identity, even a new people. We are no longer just Earth people who were serving tours of duty on Moonbase Alpha. We are now Alphans. We have been calling ourselves that -- and been called that, from almost the moment of Breakaway.

"Yet it is not just a handy term, something we use for convenience. It represents us as a new people, a colony of Earthlings which has been cast out into space to find a new place in the universe, and has even perhaps founded a colony of its own, albeit through troubling method we can ill afford to repeat.

"We have found ourselves to be a hearty lot, and many of our friends, brothers, husbands, and wives have paid a price so that those they knew and loved could continue on -- that we can continue to remain intact as a people, not without loss of people but without loss of spirit, of humanity, of decency, of hope. Even if with caution, we have remained a welcoming people, doing the right things to others and among ourselves. We could have devolved into something scarcely recognizable or acceptable. We could have found mass madness, anger, hatred, yet we have managed to retain balance, and find strength, in ourselves and from each other, in growing community, signs of which many of us have seen.

"We have been learning to cope, whether through philosophy and increasingly in humor as well, through science or faith or both, through personal reflection and social togetherness, through bravery and fortitude, through a recognition we have seen some wondrous things along with the painful events.

"It is difficult to count sometimes, and people are not numbers, yet we must remember the numbers sometimes too, that no one is a number yet everyone counts. We started with 311 at the moment Breakaway began, have lost 43 souls passing away, and three from leaving, one presumably to his end. Yet 29 have been born here, including one baby girl just this morning, named Hope by her parents."

Abruptly, there was applause. Maybe for the new baby girl herself. Maybe for her name and what the word might represent to everyone. Maybe not just for her but all of Alpha's children and what that represented. John couldn't tell, then realized it didn't matter.

The applause quieted, and he backstepped a bit and then continued on. "We started with 311 people, have lost 43, have had 29 births, with 2 more expected, and 1 person has joined us from another world. So we stand at 295, expecting to be 297 shortly.

"It has been a tumultuous year indeed, yet we have seen such growth among ourselves; and while we remember those we have lost, do not forget those we have not lost.

"To that end, I wished to do something a little different in remembering names, and it is most appropriate that it is in Main Observation, and room designed by the Main Observation Committee to be both a place to remember those passed away, yet also be a place of life, continuation, conversation, and change. Memory, hope, contemplation, and hopefully even laughter rolled into one. All of you will get a chance to see it, but for now we started with fifty of us in here. Again by random drawing, most have been given one name of a lost Alphan to speak. More than half of us have been given the name of a new Alphan to speak. All have been given five or six other names as well, to think of those who continue our journey. I have asked each person to speak their list, starting with the deceased followed by a moment of silence, then by the others' names. By this act we will remember all, and in so doing, dedicate Main Observation."

The Commander began with his randomly drawn list. By sheer coincidence, his old, dear friend Victor had been on it, and even now, it was difficult to say his name. He managed, but not without a slight wobble to his voice. He gave a moment of silence, feeling a tumult even now, yet then seeing a peaceful image of Victor smiling and toasting 'everything that was.' That brought a slight, sad smile to his face, and allowed him to continue to what John momentarily thought of as 'everything that is' -- or at least a small part of it in the form of several more names of the living, including, first among them, a child, Miranda Crato.

He quietly left the podium and took the seat of the woman who left hers to deliver her list of names. Each person leaving the podium took the spot of the one who followed, until all the names were read. Though he was happy to hear the names of the new and the continuing Alphans, it was still difficult to hear the names of the deceased -- too many. Ted Clifford, Gerald Simmonds, Regina Kesslann, Tanya Aleksandr, Anton Zoref, Ernst Linden, Mike Baxter, Laura Adams, David Kano, Dan Mateo, Mike Ryan, Tony Cellini, Lew Picard, Paul Morrow, and twenty-three more. When the last person read his names, John stood up, to let him sit down and John return to the podium to add the last few words.

"We started that day one year ago with 311 people, and though we still struggle, we have seen signs of renewal and of change. We see hope for the future, in each other's eyes, and represented by new faces. So while we can never forget the past, let us not forget the future, but head into it, even as we make our future.

"I ask now for a minute of silence here and throughout Alpha."

His thoughts were a turbulent mix of images of the people who had passed on, and the semi-constant thoughts about what he could have perhaps done better to keep them safe. In some cases, perhaps nothing; in some cases, perhaps.... He let those thoughts wash by for now, not wanting to lose his focus.

When the minute had ended, he gave other brief statements, inviting everyone who wanted to come to Main Observation tonight to do so, over the course of the evening. He did not add anything about the personnel limit, that even here, no more than 50 could be at any one time. This had been covered in an electronic memo a couple days before. Nor did he mention there was food placed out in part of the room for this evening. This had been covered too. It was, in part, not unlike a wake, yet different as well.

Some soon quietly left, perhaps having to return to second shift duty, or perhaps feeling a little overwhelmed; but others started filtering in. It did indeed turn into a wake, filled with sadness and happy memories too.

John Koenig remained for almost a half hour, looking at all the pictures in one half of the space, and talking with some others in the other half, before quietly leaving, to allow another person in. He happened to pass Helena in the hall as she headed in the direction of Main Observation. There were a few others in the hallway, talking a little. Helena gave John a very subtle smile and a half nod, and he gave her a subtle 'thank you' look. It was all they needed to "say" at this moment.

W-366 DAB 2240-2350: Commiseration

After watching the ceremony from one of the cafeterias, with fifty others, Helena had wandered to Main Observation, lingered for awhile, sometimes talking and sometimes just looking at pictures.

It was late, and she was tired, especially having seen to a birth very early in the morning. She was ready to retire for the day, but it finally occurred to her that she could talk to one more person.

That person seemed duly surprised. "Helena?" Maya asked.

"Can I come in?"

"Of course."

Helena had only heard about Maya's decision to stay quietly withdrawn for the day at the last minute, too late to consider whether or not to argue Maya out of that decision. Maybe Maya and a few of her friends could have watched the ceremony together from somewhere, or maybe it was wise to simply stay out of sight.

Oddly, Maya was dressed in a uniform, with her hair up. Whether it was out of respect, the possibility of company, or some other reason, Helena didn't know.

They got past a little awkward talk, but eventually, Maya said. "I listened to the speech, and heard a lot of memory. Quiet mourning, the Commander said. You have known little but pain in space."

"And you thought you would remind everyone of that?"

"Wouldn't I?"

Maya seemed to want an honest answer, and it was a day of honest confrontation of such things. "Some, maybe. Some, no. The ceremony was about a year in space, not just the pain but the quiet strength, of survival, of the positive encounters, renewal -- a lot of things."

"I heard the Commander refer to me. That was an unnecessary kindness."

This too needed a little directness too. "Maybe it was kind, but it was right, and simply is. You are here, an Alphan now. Like I was saying, the event was in large part about us and a year in space, of reaching out to one's friends and family, and you are part of that year, and part of us now, even though we both know that is taking adjustment."

Maya seemed surprised by Helena's directness, and just sat there quietly for a little while, apparently absorbing the thoughts.

Helena asked if Maya felt welcome, and got a mixture of positive and negative.

"The latter makes you feel miserable at times," Helena stated.

"Yes, sometimes more than I am willing to admit to myself. Maybe that is why it sometimes shifts into my dreams."

Now Helena stayed quiet, wondering if Maya would go any further on the awake or asleep portions of her feelings, and knowing not to push or even lightly prod at this moment.

"I heard the names of those who died... at my father's hand. Every one of them had an equal right to live, but the name of Jane Clemens is the most difficult when I am awake, because she meant so much as a best friend to someone who has befriended me, and as an intended mate to someone who hurt me physically. I know that sounds a little self-centered pattern of thought, but I am still amazed at the range of reactions of both of those people. Asleep, I see Ray Torens in some dreams. I never admitted it before, but I did see him on Psychon, when..." -- she paused, choking slightly -- "when the Commander's words and your facial expressions convinced me to check for truth. But I see Ray in some of my dreams, a living husk...."

Maya trailed off, and after a long silence and then finally a gentle prod or two by Helena that went nowhere, Helena simply reached out and let the other woman accept a comforting hug if she wanted one. Maya did, but there were no loud sobs, no release. If Maya was analogous to a human at this point, Helena would have said Maya was still not ready, and that pushing her would only trigger retreat, not release. Even this was many times more than anything Maya had said before, even if only a tiny fraction of what might be tormenting her.

Maya pulled quietly back and said nothing. In fact, little was said on that topic after that point, and Helena knew better than to state an open invitation. The early guess she and Bob had discussed about Psychons perhaps finding psychological answers solely through friends and family rather than counselors seemed to advance to the level of hypothesis now, and Helena wanted Maya to feel Helena was a friend.

Maya then showed a surprising extension of the same thing. "I suppose you have been having nightmares too."

"Some," Helena quietly admitted, then paused for awhile. "It has been a difficult year, and I do occasionally have nightmares about one thing or another, including about the most recent. Maybe that is the sort of thing that has been helping us slowly come together. Friendship, community, and family have all been increasingly helping. I sometimes feel a little distant from those, seeing a little of it yet so consumed with work or just so used to thinking of my role as isolating. The dreams are sometimes a strange and difficult reflection of all of that, and I know it is not easy to talk about."

There was more silence, reflective, then tedious, needing a topic shift, which Maya took the initiative to provide, asking, "Would you like a snack? I think I understand now the shifting Alpha definition for snack aside from my own more permanent one, that Alphans may snack at various almost random times, with or without the company of the other people. No one was accepting cereal and milk as a proper Alphan social'snack, nor a few other typical meal items I subsequently asked for myself. So I asked a cook what would be more typical Alphan social'snacks, and was given a first item and an initial list. Soy chips, making small cheese slices out of larger chunks, crackers, coffee, small reusable bottles of soft drink which he called sodapop as a synonym I think, something called dip that can be used with mixed raw vegetables, and a few other things. I don't have all of them yet; but I do have soy chips, cheese slices, crackers, and something I think he called pseudoroot'beet'sodapop. I already have orange'juice and tomato'juice too. He said juices were good snack'time items for company."

Helena smiled, both at Maya's one mangled term but more happily at her earnest initiative to learn human social customs. It was very late, Helena had eaten some of the things left out in Main Observation, and was going to be sleeping soon; but now was not the time to rain on Maya's sunny actions, even though Helena was not really hungry at all. "Of course. A little bit of cheese slices, crackers, and root beer sounds fine."

R-367 DAB 1000-1300: Better Questions

In the week after his abruptly ended "discussion" with Maya, it struck Jim more and more how much of a fool he had been. He had decided to ask the alien about "who" all the aliens were, without stopping to think maybe she didn't know them all. Going after her on the Sidons had been pure spite on his part, he realized, like a bit of petty revenge in a way. He didn't have to like the alien that much to at least avoid being a hypocrite.

He had completely ignored the increasing pile of questions about a partially deciphered set of disparate alien signals, spatial and planetary phenomena, and other various items of science. For example, just what was that signal he had separated so easily, that seemed to be clear as a bell, easily separated into a representative sound, that meant nothing to him or any other Alphan to whom he had presented it in the past?

So he had started re-organized his questions, put different priorities at the top, and only one new ship configuration he had recently found on the recording.

He had approached both Tony and Maya a couple of days ago, apologized for Maya for his earlier words. She was quick to accept his apology, something he had heard about her. He apologized to Tony for jamming him in the middle of a pointless argument. Verdeschi paused, but then gave his acceptance of it, albeit more slowly than Maya, perhaps recognizing Jim was still uncomfortable around Maya, and fearing there would only be more friction again.

Jim wasn't sure he could promise there would not be more trouble, but he was determined to avoid something as truly childish as before.

So another meeting was duly arranged, and it was now that afternoon.

Not surprisingly, Tony attended this meeting. Though there seemed to be meetings he was attending for reasons other than Maya's security, Jim had no doubt the latter was at least half the factor here. He intended her no physical harm like that over-pumped prat Sanderson, but Jim had not made a good show of conversational graces.

He turned to his agenda. It was the clear-as-a-bell signal he tried first.

Maya visibly shivered.

"What is it?"

"Ohh, that is one you never want to hear... Universal Plague Warning'signal."

"Oh?" he asked, not sure if she was referring to a universal plague or a universal signal.

"Definitely."

"How many such signals are there?"

"Fourteen, at least that I was taught, though it probably is complete. The Khorask always give those out for free, on each trade -- probably what makes them relatively universal signals, actually."

"Khorask?"

"Language traders."

"Oh, how you learned English," Jim said.

"From their data, yes."

Jim had heard, of course. Less about Maya's language knowledge and the Khorask than about the rather remarkable if somewhat troubling discovery regarding Alphans knowing at least four alien languages and not even realizing they were hearing and speaking them. Jim should have felt a lot more troubled about the mind meddling than he did, and like many others, wondered why he wasn't. Strangely, he felt more bothered by what was assumed to be Khorask spying on Earth, though some had more charitably pointed out Earth had been spewing radio signals into space for about six decades. Still, the mental meddling was troubling. Why the bloody hell can't aliens just leave us alone? he wondered, not for the first time.

Maya frowned a bit, and he realized he might have been showing some of his feelings. He quickly wiped that and moved on, not wanting to blow up this discussion in as short an order as the last. He'd surely be in hot water with the Commander if that happened, and was surprised he hadn't been after he verbally blasted Maya the first time. Thankfully, Jim had decided to try rectifying the problem before action had been taken.

"Is this another Universal Signal?" he asked, quickly changing the topic, bringing up a different distinct signal.

"No, that is not. I do not recognize it, either."

"What about this?" he asked, trying a third.

"Also not a Universal Signal. The sound representation makes me wonder if it is some version of an eepkond'arak. I don't know an Alphan word or contraction for it. Maybe like... 'We're scanning your base or ship but are adding an obvious component to it out of a polite warning we are doing so.'"

"Etiquette to scans?" Tony piped up, clearly surprised.

"There can be, but it varies significantly by culture. Can I see a visual representation of the wave'form'carrier?"

"Sure."

He showed Maya -- and Tony, who wandered closer for a look -- the waveform, and explained how he isolated the main component.

"Yes, that is an eepkond'arak. Instead of isolating that part, can you subtract it out and enhance the rest?"

The discussion continued.

R-367 DAB 1515-1600: Imprecise Flight

Alan had been enjoying teaching this class of Eagle trainees. Two very attractive sheilas was something of a welcome change, even though he knew of Sandra's mild discomfort around him, and Maya had shown no signs of reciprocal interest -- at least nothing he had recognized from the otherwise friendly alien.

Yet some of the charm was wearing a bit thin today, with one student sitting silently while the other shot him strings of persistent, odd questions.

Alan was getting exasperated. The early start where Maya had seemed like other students -- mostly in the same sort of range of reaction, learning, and questions -- had been evaporating in the last several days, in the blast of increasingly technical questions. He was struggling to keep the training on course.

"At this stage, you would push the throttle up to fifty percent," Alan explained on a new point.

"What is the force?" Maya asked.

"Uh, 50% of full," again trying to get her to see the point.

"What is full force?"

"Engine capacity." He could almost predict what she was going to say in response to this, and indeed, a moment later....

"I mean numerically."

Alan finally just gave Maya the thrust force figure from memory, one of the dozen or so he knew off-hand, wondering why she was being so persistent. I'm trying to train her to be a pilot, not a mechanic.

Far from being satisfied that such a key number was given, Maya only got worse when Alan started discussing turning controls. Every time he listed a degrees of turn, she asked more questions about numbers, obviously not listening to his main point, about how they worked. He didn't have the numbers, because they varied by nozzle and per degree of input. Maya was increasingly pursuing technical trivia, rather than listening. When he tried to explain, she started asking for equations, and he started wishing he had not said the class was open to all questions at any time.

Alan was exasperated. "Maya, I have given you the descriptions of how these controls work."

"You have?" she asked. "You gave me numbers that are on the controls, and..." -- she paused, in a way that he knew by now meant she was afraid of insulting him, but didn't know how else to proceed -- "a generalized meaning, but not how they translate to engine thrust."

"They don't always translate to a single engine or thruster. Turning that one simple control alters the thrust of various engines and thrusters, in differing ways, at each degree of turn."

"Exactly."

"Exactly what?"

Maya was now starting to lose her patience, not understanding what was so difficult about her request, yet still not wanting to insult him or get herself thrown out of the class or something, when she was otherwise enjoying it and desperately hoping for a chance for dri'trayt -- flight in a machine -- again. Yet how did he expect her to learn how to fly without all the data? She understood they did not have her talent at rapid mental calculation, but was it so difficult for him to see why she was asking? "Sorry, Alan, but I want to see those divided curves."

Finally, Alan was losing his patience. This trainee, so friendly otherwise, was proving increasingly stubborn. He decided to be more blunt, to maybe shake her out of it. "Maya, that's not the way we fly. We learn the basics, then the feel, and build on that in practice."

"The feel," she repeated flatly.

Alan could see she clearly did not understand. In fact, it was more than confusion. It really looked more like she felt he had just told her Eagles were constructed using popsicle sticks and kangaroo spit, and flown using incantations of black magic.

"Yeah, the feel... of how each input translates to moving the ship."

"But you already have that information. Isn't it basic flight data?"

Sandra kept looking back and forth between the two. Earlier, she had been smiling a little at first about the Psychon's hyper-technical frame of mind; but was increasingly frowning as she realized the two friends were getting rather more annoyed with each other.

"There are procedures," Alan finally said.

Maya went silent. That was usually a sign that she was deferring or about to do so -- something she did often, Sandra thought, even when she shouldn't. Sandra knew Maya was starting to learn she could speak up when she felt the need, but this time, she was shutting down. Why should Maya have to learn what to her might be a simple ship without what she probably considered simple information? Sandra wondered. Alan was being rather rigid. He had chosen a particular training model, and was known to even like having trainees with very distinct tendencies so he could show each varied responses and point out the good and bad ones and find a center. Now, confronted by someone who was totally distinct in the most fundamental approach, he was not willing to compromise.

Fortunately or unfortunately, time was up on the session. After Maya left with a guard, Sandra talked to Alan.

"Alan, what is so wrong with giving her the detailed specifications. If she wants to learn that way--"

"How am I supposed to test how well she learns if she learns some other method I'm not teaching?"

"Then teach it," Sandra said quietly yet firmly.

"She wants me to teach her in some alien way--"

"No, she is just asking for more information."

"Still--"

"If what she wants still results in the same reactions--"

"Then why not learn the same way?"

"Who says she won't still learn the 'feel' the ship?"

"She doesn't want to. She doesn't even know what I mean by that."

"You want to teach her that in some vague way. She wants you to teach her that in a more concrete way. Besides, if you give her that data, did you ever think that maybe she could be an early warning when an Eagle drifts from specification?"

"How so?"

"Alan, don't you see? The slightest variation from spec, and she would tell by the ship's reaction."

"She would still have to adjust."

"You just assume she cannot?"

"If I bring out the whole spec book, that is just going to kill the schedule."

"Highlight the important parts, keep your schedule, and see if she keeps up."

"You're assuming she can. I know she has a calculator in her head--"

"More like a computer. I have seen her in action. She absorbs raw data at incredible rates, and can calculate things faster than our computer. I mean Main Computer. These little things in the Eagles are probably nothing more than 2-bit calculators to her."

"You're the Data Analyst."

"She and I are not in competition. We each have strengths and weakness. Some overlap, and some do not."

"I am used to seeing a mix of cooperation and competition among trainees. It helps me better sort out each trainee's strengths and weaknesses relative to others, to know what is going well and what needs more work. You two are not competitive with each other."

"Then focus on other clues. She has given you a big one. Be her friend more than Captain, at least in this case. Or be the Captain and decide whether you can accommodate this. I know you think it is a lot, but I think it sounds simple."

"Hmmph, I'll think about it."

For some reason, Sandra got the sense he was uncomfortable around her and Maya. Maya's technical persistence and the women's relative lack of competition seemed to be getting on nerves already triggered by something else.

Sandra already knew Alan seemed unsure how to act around her. She had pushed him away when he tried to comfort her some weeks ago, Sandra uncertain of his motives, and still uncertain.

Plus, it seemed like he was looking at Maya with much the same eyes he had looked at her on and off for months. She wasn't sure about that, and felt strangely conflicted about it, before deciding if true, it was reassuring that he was not obsessing about her, maybe turning his attention elsewhere. Yet while that should have been something of a relief, and indeed was, it also again made her feel a little empty.

Alan could be quick to move on, but Sandra was realizing she was the last person who should be judging on that basis, since her own rapid recognition of new realities, and making recoveries, were what had her moving from a severed engagement to Peter, to infatuation and a bit of flirtation with Mike, to a serious relationship with Paul, all in a year. It sometimes seemed like a strength, and sometimes a weakness. It was a realization that was starting to be difficult to deal with, and was leading to feelings of guilt.

Alan was rarely shy, but seemed unsure what to do around either Sandra or Maya now, for two sets of different reasons that may still have come back to the same thing: liking both women but not being sure how to approach either.

She wondered again if she was being too judgmental about Alan, yet she still felt uncomfortable, and maybe Alan was too, for he seemed to be reverting more to military form, obviously feeling it would be inappropriate to make any moves on what were now his students and both of whom were recovering from losses.

However, that rigorous mentality was now driving Maya up the wall, and his "I'll think about it" seemed a little dismissive and rigid, and that was irritating Sandra, not just in regard to Maya but in seeing his fallback position was so intolerant to any change. She thought he was more than the sum of his military training, but for now, that did not seem to be the case.

R-367 DAB 0420-0430: Complacency?

It had been a few unique days, but it was time to settle back into what had become a surprisingly quiet routine. However, with the Alkinarda Complex starting to rise over Alpha's horizon, now larger than when they had last seen it through windows rather than satellite images, about a week ago, Maya's concerns about it and her feeling about Alphan acceptance of its nature and, in her mind, lack of sufficient concern, were preying on John Koenig's mind, and his own musings were taking a dark turn.

He eventually redirected the end of a meeting with Tony to talk about this.

"Could we be getting a little complacent?"

"Huh?" Tony said, not sure what context John was speaking in.

"That we all believe we experienced something in the Black Sun, and are so eager for it -- whatever it was -- again."

"It is the first situation we have seen repeating out here, albeit on a more massive scale."

"Are we sure it is really a repeat, even in part? We jumped all over that, after Maya said it was sort of similar, and she's been trying to take that back ever since."

"Well, she did make the comparison," Tony replied.

"Did she?" John asked. "Or did we suggest it and she just went along, not knowing what else in our science she could compare it to?"

"I honestly don't know. If you are asking if she thinks she dumbed it down too much for us and can't entirely take it back without seeming like she's accusing us of being scientific simpletons, well...."

"She admits to not understanding what we traversed back then."

"So? I admit to not knowing either, and I went through it."

John chuckled, and said, "Good point." He paused, then added, "Maybe we're missing the obvious."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know how to ask it." He paused. "So let me pose it this way. If you had been a ground fighter in the last war, and had been moving from cover position to cover position in a terrorist-held area, only to find yourself running straight towards a laser gun nest, and managed to avoid getting yourself killed, and thanked God over it, would you rush right towards the same danger again looking for God's help?"

"Heavens no," Tony replied. "God could simply let me die the fool that I would be."

"If we rush the Alkinarda looking for... whatever we experienced before... again, would we be dying the fools?"

Tony opened his mouth, then closed it, thinking for awhile, until John asked for his thoughts.

"You are right. We have no choice but to assume the Alkinarda is that second gun nest, maybe packing laser rifles or sonic grenades at every window, and that it will kill us if the blue stars don't incinerate us first. Then if we fail and go in anyway...."

John smiled. "God helps those who help themselves?"

"Let's not jump to conclusions about what we--"

"No, I am speaking in the most generic way, I think."

"Well, yeah, when have we ever not struggled? At least one, some, or all of us?"

"Never. I think if it ever happened that no one did, we would all be lost."

F-368 DAB 1110-1130: Ship 'n Station

It had been a long day, starting early with the rather mixed Eagle training session. It was sometimes difficult going to sleep with thoughts of Paul in her mind, and tonight they were in full force.

Having spent some time staring at the alien poems of Kaskalon -- or Kaska'lon as Sandra had found Maya preferred to spell it (which Sandra had also listed in the official record) -- had her thinking of those cryptic passages, which mixed with fresh memories of simulated Eagle flight, was also bringing her back to the cryptic demands of the Graktor, who, after capturing the Eagle that Paul and David had been flying, with Victor and Tanya as passengers.

In fractured and minimal English, they had then demanded 'the ship.' Which ship? Whose ship? Why? The Commander's demands for explanation only brought no clarity, and Sandra could only watch helplessly as other aliens appeared and began battling the Graktor. Combat Eagles launched as a contingency were quickly fired upon by both sides, but held their own, sustaining damage but no fatalities. Yet the three-way battle left destroyed alien ships on and orbiting the Moon. The aliens had abruptly left, seemingly with Paul's Eagle, until a piece of Eagle girder, two meters long, wrapped like a pretzel around two fragments of an alien ship, was found. Video records finally revealed the Graktor ship which had enveloped Paul's Eagle had itself been destroyed, with the Eagle in it.

The evidence was indisputable, but once again, Sandra's mind, as she slipped to the unwelcome sleep of fatigue and distraction, wanted to dispute it. Wanted to believe Paul was alive, wanting to think he could have been saved. She drifted, and soon found herself 'somewhere' she had not been....

Sandra sat helplessly in the co-pilot seat of an Eagle, the pilot missing, the door behind her open to what she knew was an empty ship. She stared into the view of space, of battle, seeing the alien ship ahead of her, but looking at the controls, feeling powerless, still ignorant of how to fly the craft as an alien ship approached Paul's Eagle, Sandra shouting, "The ship! A ship is behind you!"

She wanted to take the laser controls and target the alien ship.

Battle debris began filling space, pinging against the Eagle hull. A larger piece flew by -- a few more meters and it would have crushed her Eagle's pilot section. All she can do is communicate.

Suddenly, she saw it. Huge and distant, barely visible as the wreckage of alien ships thickens. "Paul, there is a huge station thirty degrees left and twenty up."

"What?" he called back even as his own Eagle, in trying to evade another ship, ends up pointed directly at the station.

"The station! The station!" she shouts, simply. "Fly to it!"

"Got it. Sandra, follow me!"

"I do not know how to fly, and they are ignoring me, thinking this Eagle is dead. Fly to the station."

Alien voices crowd over her commlink. "The ship! Give us the ship!"

Sandra has lost Paul's voice. Paul flies towards the station. Sandra's Eagle is drifting that way. Paul's Eagle enters a landing bay in the station. Sandra realizes she is on a collision course with another part of the station. The Graktor sweep towards the station, begin attacking it. The Graktor's enemies do the same, even as they attack Graktor ships.

Sandra drifted ever closer to the station. The station began exploding. "Paul, get out of there!"

Alien voices again: "The ship! The ship!"

"The station is exploding!" Sandra cries out.

"We want the ship, now!" an alien voice overrides hers.

A brilliant flare of white. Sandra covers her eyes. Sandra opens her eyes. Station debris is flying past her.

She is safe. Paul is dead. They're all dead. Sandra is alive. The aliens fly away, still shouting "The ship!" over the commlink.

"The station..." Sandra whispers quietly. "He was my port of calm in turbulent space. He is gone."

Station debris adds to ship debris. Sandra feels shattered. The cloud of debris thickens. She feels like she is in a dream, wonders why she hasn't awoken yet, has to suffer the feeling.... A piece of debris too large to survive is on a collision course. She stares at it, trying to awaken. "Paul," she whispers at the end.

"Paul!!!" Sandra screamed herself awake, in a cold sweat.

Another nightmare of losing Paul. Another distortion of reality, adding in unreal elements like the station, but keeping other parts, like Paul being incinerated with the others, painfully true. Yet another hard dose of truth. She was alone again.

She tried calming her wildly-beating heart, but almost cried out slightly when her commpanel beeped. Her legs felt too wobbly to walk over, so she tried picking up her commlock from the nightstand, but her cold, numb hands had trouble pulling it from the charger, then dropped it onto the nightstand. Finally gaining some control over herself, she picked it up again and connected into the signal via the commlock. A neighbor was calling, and asked if Sandra was okay. A faint, muffled scream had been heard....

"It is okay, just a nightmare."

The other person sounded concerned still, but Sandra reassured the other more than herself, and Sandra was soon alone again, with her thoughts.

At least this nightmare admitted the truth, that he is gone, she thought. It was small consolation for yet another difficult night. It was barely the start of night, but she'd probably not be able to try again to sleep. Like so many other times, she didn't know exactly what to do, but decided to start by changing into casual clothes. She left her quarters, and found herself walking up to Paul's former quarters. He was gone, and these were not living quarters any longer, but an office, the Strategic Planning Centre.

At first, this space was going to be repurposed into a plant crop growing area, with a similar-sized office elsewhere for the SPC, but Sandra had surprised herself by requesting this location for the office -- which was to be used to expand and begin implementing parts of Paul's Plan, when possible. Sandra ignored all that now, picturing the space as it had been when he was alive, and the things now gone: the dresser, his spartan decorations, his guitar, the bed....

Yet she gravitated towards the viewport, and just stared out for awhile, over a relatively quiet Moonbase Alpha, the grey moonrock beyond, and cold, mostly dark space. She and Paul had done this sometimes, standing together, his arm often around her shoulder or waist. Now, she felt alone, her thoughts jumbled -- yet sometimes just staring out emptily. She only interrupted this when her legs got tired, to bring a tall chair, normally sitting next to a whiteboard used for detailed brainstorming diagrams, over to the window, and spent most of the rest of the night there.

F-368 DAB 0700-0900: Hollow Simulator

Maya was in the simulator. Alan had said he liked to get trainees in the simulator as soon as possible, and that made a lot of sense to her as well.

It was a strange simulator, Maya had thought on first sight of what appeared to be a somewhat damaged pilot module, with cables leading to it, sitting on top of some simple apparatus that he explained rocked it some to provide some of the small sensations of force which sometimes occurred despite the artificial gravity.

"We don't have a full simulator," he had said. Those were back on Earth. Pilots here were expected to be on frequent flights that kept them current, not needing simulators.

Maya was alone in the simulator, while Alan and Sandra sat in front of some status readouts, Alan giving her orders and advice.

Maya could tell he had continued to grow irritated with her frequent questions, and after the discussion about flying the ship by 'feel', Alan only seemed to grow more anxious to show her what that meant, via simulator.

Now she was here, and was not doing so well.

"Stop trying to overthink it," Alan said. "Stop worrying about what the power equations might be."

He pushed her to let her instincts guide her.

"I'm trying, but now I'm trying to calculate what the numbers might--"

"Just clear your mind of that."

"I am trying," she said, unconsciously letting some frustration creep into her voice.

Maya fought her instincts to calculate the flight out, to just use the controls in the generalized way Alan was trying to teach, but she found herself fighting the craft, constantly trying to correct its course, overcorrecting frequently.

"More gently, smoother."

How could she smooth the equations without the equations? She tried following the "gently" part instead -- and promptly put it into a nose dive.

"Whoa, you're too close to the ground for this."

"I know," she said with exasperation as she alternatively tried to go gently with the simulator, then fought it to regain control.

A few seconds later, she 'crashed' it.

"Whew," he said after the simulated crash. "That could have been fatal. Here's where you can do better the next time...."

He expounded on a number of points, most of them rather highly imprecise. Some she could follow, and she tried to adapt the rest, but her next performance, she 'put it into the ground' even faster.

"Well, you actually did a little better on some things, but...."

He was pushing hard, and though she expected that was rather normal for this sort of training, he also seemed determined to prove that flight by 'feel' was proper and her way was incorrect. She set aside that thought, not wanting to get angry. That she had learned to fly Psychon ships and other ships for real or in holosim was about those machines, she tried to tell herself, not about these Alphan ones. Who was she to say their way was wrong for the machines they had built for their purposes?

It was then that she realized the safety factor again. Their training must be optimized for their machines and procedures. After all, she found the number of hardware controls to be unusually high, the computer systems almost secondary and to her almost unneeded in parts. That she was trying to fly as if she were the computer was apparently not proper either.

Her heart sank. She had so wanted to keep in practice. Dri'lakor, and dri'trayt -- literally 'flight as creature' and 'flight in machine' -- both felt so natural to her now, and she had wanted to keep in practice on the latter on Alpha too while showing initiative. Almost the only thing she had herself stepped forward on....

Sandra was getting irritated with Alan. Far from taking Sandra's early advice, Alan was trying to mold Maya's flight skills into totally human terms. The Psychon was proving adaptable in other areas, but was not being pushed to repress Psychon thought patterns behind doing the other tasks. Here she was being pushed, and she was struggling severely. It was silly, and now Sandra felt she was being put in the middle of Alan's Terran procedures fighting Maya's Psychon way of thinking.

Still, this was Sandra's first simulator try, and she had to set those thoughts aside. She found herself taking gentle control over the craft, flying it a little at a time.

"No, no, you have to be more assertive than that, or you'll be letting the Eagle run you rather than the other way around."

This became Alan's frequent mantra with her, but unlike Maya, Sandra didn't crash it for quite some time. However, when she started getting in a bad situation, she went from in trouble to crashed in much shorter order than Maya, Alan shouting to take more control.

Her runs went rather more smoothly as time went on.

Sandra found herself strangely exhilarated after her first simulated flights, even though her performance still needed a lot of work. Alan was right in his advice, she instinctively felt, but it would take work. She would have to bring out more of her assertiveness and strength.

Then Alan handed the simulator back to Maya, and told her, "More like Sandra this time. Not all the way, though. Easier on the bird, but not too easy that it will get away from you."

Sandra could virtually hear Maya's thoughts about how little that probably told her. Maya could follow those orders, and did, but to no more real success, and Sandra could hear the frustration building in Maya's voice, and how much that made Alan's voice bark out orders more firmly. He was going all military, trying to break her of bad or 'undisciplined' assumptions or something, to make her a clean slate on which to write new orders.

Yet Sandra could tell this was not working on Maya.

Sandra, sitting next to Alan at the readout and situation screens outside the simulator itself, quietly said, "Alan."

"Sometimes it just takes longer," he said quietly to her.

"That is still with humans."

Still, after a few runs, Maya seemed to get better for a bit, but that was illusionary, for she was soon back to 'back' to 'crashing' or 'overstressing' the Eagle with bad maneuvers.

"Okay, that's enough for now," Alan said, not trying to hide his frustration.

There was no response from Maya.

When the trainee emerged from the simulator, she looked distant, almost resigned, and sad. The frustration Sandra had heard in her voice seemed absent from her expression, as best as Sandra could tell.

To Alan, Maya emerged looking like she had enough of trying it her way, and ready to try it the established way.

"Captain Carter Pilot..." she started saying.

He suddenly didn't like the sound of that. Her breaking out the mangled formality did not strike him as a good thing.

"I do not understand this training methodology. I am learning the various imprecise and overlapping terms in scientific areas, but they are often classifications over existing numbers or data. Here, I do not have the data; but you insist this is the proper way to learn Eagle flight, and I assume this is required for safety reasons."

"Maya--"

"I do not believe I can learn to fly this way without constant conflict. I will probably not be a safe pilot by Alphan standards, and I wish to... withdraw from this program before I compromise the integrity of the training, the integrity of a real Eagle, or of someone's life."

Alan was suddenly angry -- mostly with himself. Sandra was right, only more than she perhaps realized. Trying to make an alien buy into human military training techniques. He was about to have the first student ever to remove oneself from training, over sheer stubbornness on his part.

Almost as bad, he had Sandra's eyes almost literally drilling him with a very disappointed look, in a way he couldn't recall having seen before. That was a difficult thing to take too.

"Maya, wait. Come with me."

He took her to the reference room, and searched for the relevant binders. "Here, before you take these, let me apologize for being so damn stubborn, and let you do what you were trying to tell me was best and I was not listening."

She could have thrown it back in his face as too little, too late, or for taking so long. She could have taken the material sullenly from him. Instead, she looked relieved, and grateful, and simply said, "Thank you, Alan; apology accepted." Then she added, "If it doesn't work this way either, I will still withdraw, or you can remove me."

"Let's not worry about that again. Just read, and we'll try again at a later point. Here, let me point out a couple sections relating to what you have been asking about."

After that, Maya left, now knowing the schedules of guards she trusted, and calling one whenever she needed to. Sandra remained, giving Alan a tiny 'that's better' type of smile, but a mostly neutral look about it. Maya may have been very quickly forgiving, but Sandra still looked a little off-put by his tactic.

That annoyed him somewhat in turn. He was still right, overall. The rules and methods were this way for a reason. His now making an exception for the Psychon was a complicating factor, and also not one he intended to give out to others.

Almost as if reading his mind, Sandra said, "I was not asking for you to make exceptions for half the trainees, not even for me. I know exceptions are dangerous in your book; but rare ones do not have to become dangerous if you do not let them. We all have to learn to accept some changes, as difficult as that sometimes can be."

He said nothing, not sure what to say at first. Was she talking about herself a little too, opening up a bit, or just talking about him? Before he could think of anything, she turned away without any further words or expression. He sighed. As much as Sandra was probably happy he had made this exception, she was perhaps still disappointed with him too. He found that a little hard to take, and almost followed her, but doubted she'd like that.

If he had been thinking of later pursuing his interest in either woman, after training when it would not be inappropriate, he might have toasted it today.

Sandra had already brushed off his attempt to be supportive after Paul's death, Sandra perhaps thinking he had a bit more in mind than being a friend. Maybe she'd have been right, considering that after a few weeks, he did feel the attraction aspect return.

To Maya, he perhaps now appeared overbearing, stubborn, and only ready to give in when she was ready to give up and get out. It wasn't hard to figure out how most Earth women would take that. With a Psychon, who knew? It couldn't have helped, however.

Discipline was terribly important; but... sometimes it came at some cost in friendships or relationships.

F-368 DAB 1020-2110: Surviving Sibling

Tony was working in his office, located in Security Center. He looked up and, through the window, noticed Leann Picard walking towards his office from across the main room.

He let her in.

"Mr. Verdeschi."

"Leann, what can I do for you?"

"I noticed there have been a few times, in the hallways, where you and Maya have walked past, but have not introduced us."

"Well, I don't always--"

"Mr. Verdeschi," she said quietly and calmly, "I know I said some things about Psychons in general the day you told me that Lew died; but that was the first minutes of grief talking. I don't want to assault her, or hurt her emotionally, or anything like that, and would hate to think that I might end up being the last introduction out of concern about that."

He looked at her for another moment, then said, "Okay, I'll bring her by your work station the next chance I get."

"Thank you," Leann said, then left.

He knew, without looking at the weeks-old schedule card that now sat in a drawer, that it was Maya's longer sleep period, through almost the full first shift. He also knew Leann usually worked a first-shift schedule. So the meeting probably would not be for some days.

Over eight hours later, Tony and Maya were in a Cafeteria, him for dinner and her for breakfast. Then, on her request, took her to the Main Library for awhile, leaving her to explore while he finally looked for some new fiction to read.

In the days after Maya's arrival, he had repeatedly tried to 'get back' to his 'main duty' in trying to help oversee the repairs, already seeing that even with cautious delegation, helping Maya was time-consuming. He had finally stopped trying to 'get back' after realizing John and Alan had those oversight aspects well in hand. Tony had been delegating more recently, and with Maya calling on guards as she needed, Tony was easing back into other aspects of his duty, while still helping Maya where he could.

He still preferred to keep an eye out -- both for danger to her and her as a danger to Alpha, but it was starting to be difficult to see her as the latter anymore. That reaction, if anything, worried him in itself, that perhaps she was lulling him.

Yet she asked for little: an occasional meal so she could ask him more questions; an occasional jog in the under-Tube; now today for a visit to the Main Library. She smiled more and more easily: his assenting to such requests, at answers to her questions, on a friendly greeting, or at other simple gestures. She smiled remarkably often. Sometimes he wondered if all of that was keeping him suspicious. Aliens that smiled too much.... Yet increasingly, he found it hard to keep that line of concern. Had he been wrong to treat her with suspicion these last few weeks? Absolutely not, he felt. Maybe the question was really if he was holding onto his concerns for too long. This was more difficult to answer, but he preferred to err on the side of caution, or at least reasonable caution.

Yet when he found himself looking forward to the arranged occasions.... Now here it was on a Friday night, and he was hanging out with a female alien in a library, instead of asking out a beautiful woman in hopes of finding a new girlfriend....

What was his world coming to?

It didn't help when Maya peeked around a corner in a funny way and smiled at him, that unbidden came the nickname for her he had mostly kept away from conscious thought lately: Catbird.

"There you are," she said lightly, then approached him, carrying a couple of books, the top one bearing the name Advanced Topological Theory.

A hyper-technical alien female in a library, he thought, adding further precision to his earlier thought.

They soon left, to head back to their respective quarters to change clothes. Schedule conflicts had caused Maya to miss a formal workout session with Anna earlier in the week, and had prompted Maya to ask if he he had some time just to go there with her, for some informal exercise. That was in addition to their "pattern" of jogging together on occasion, which was easier than to try assigning a guard, since Tony already jogged.

The fact he sometimes found her eyes on him was almost as difficult to process as his seeming attraction to her. It was all ridiculous, as Tony had proclaimed loudly to Lena on their breakup. So what if Maya looked mostly human? He could feel a little attraction to a lot of women that he'd not seriously consider pursuing.

Tony and Maya had not gotten far from the Library when Tony's attention snapped back to the present, for he noticed Leann Picard walking the hallway. They all stopped, and Tony carried out the introduction.

"Leann, this is Maya. Maya, Leann Picard."

Maya's moderate smile, something Tony had noticed she had settled on somewhat early in the introduction process, one she used to show she wanted to welcome a good meeting, but was not necessarily demanding it, now faded somewhat. Leann kept smiling, however, and offering her hand.

Maya's smile partially, cautiously returned, and she quickly shook, then said, "I'm sorry, but I must ask...."

"I know what you want to ask, and it is okay. Lew Picard was my brother."

Maya's smile faded, her head dropped a little, and she looked ready to apologize for her father's actions, but Leann held up her hand. "That was not your fault, not your actions. I hear you keep trying to apologize for things you didn't do. What happened is difficult, but you suffered losses too, and I am not going to compound the pain for either of us by listening to you apologize for something you did not do, and in fact prevented from becoming worse. Now tell me, have you eaten recently?"

"She just ate a--" Tony started.

"I did not eat much, and would be happy to eat some more," Maya interrupted quickly, much to Tony's surprise.

"Good," Leann said. "I happen to know the cook at one of the cafeterias, and that he was going to whip up a mean casserole for later-evening diners today." After a pause, she added, "That's a good thing. Mr. Verdeschi, you're invited too."

"Thank you," he said, knowing this was still necessary, and Leann obviously recognizing this too. It would probably not be for much longer, fortunately. "Please, as long as we're going to share a meal, call me Tony."

"Okay, Tony," Leann said with a smile.

Tony trailed behind, thinking about how Maya was actually starting to assert herself more and more. Interrupting to accept Leann's first offer of further socializing, to prevent a potentially-awkward attempt to determine another occasion, was a pretty good move, Tony had to admit. Maya was still cautious, sometimes very much so, about many things, but she was starting to take more chances.

Once seated at the table, Tony participated a little, but he mostly let the two women talk, chiming in only when they hit the inevitable speed bumps Maya had over her relative lack of small talk skills. Yet Leann seemed just as ready, like she had heard of this and had some topics prepared. It wasn't long before Leann steered the conversation into an area where both Psychon and Terran seemed to do fine: talking about the latter's work on Alpha. Leann and Maya were soon conversing about Leann's varied range of duties. Like her sibling Lew, she had skills in multiple areas of study. Maya was soon sharing some observations about certain things related to those fields, and a full-blown conversation was under way.

Tony kept an eye out, as usual, but even after barely more than three weeks, Maya was not getting the same number of stares as before. Or at least the annoyed or nervous ones were slowly dropping out, still leaving some of the stares of interest or even fascination she was still receiving from some men, but apparently not recognizing. In months or maybe a year, she'd probably have to fend off potential suitors -- if she started showing any interest herself. To his surprise, he felt a little defensive about that too, like maybe she would have trouble dealing with that as well. He hardly wanted to be stuck in the middle of that, but she could end up with some real jerks trying to hit on her. From the beginning, despite being semi-suspicious of her, he had not wanted to see her physically hurt, and despite his failing to protect her once, he realized he didn't want to see her emotionally hurt either.

The numbers who had not met her were dwindling to such a degree that other than Leann, hallway introductions were becoming the nice, simple way to get to the rest. That left only a couple dozen, and half of them were on survey teams about to cycle back to Alpha after their three or four weeks out exploring the Moon for further resources. Within a few days, the introductions could be complete.

Yet this time, as soon as he thought that, he felt some sort of empty sadness at the thought. Puzzled, he pushed it aside, and rejoined the conversation when it had ground to a halt, quickly finding a new topic for all of them to discuss as the meal wound down.

A-369 DAB 0830-0840: Half'star

It had been over three weeks since leaving Psychon's star system. There had been enough repairs and recovery to do that no one had gotten bored such as on some prior occasions.

With more time, some were hoping that items of minor maintenance that had accumulated or put off and delayed repeatedly, could be dealt with.

Halfstar, a verbal translation of what Maya had written for the official record as Ayi'ab, was one of their few generic names for astronomical objects in their "neighborhood," was actually well named, for it was about half-way to the Alkinarda, and a half-brightness star compared to Psychon's.

Douglas McLeod was busily making observations of the star and its system, including verifying its sole gas giant planet was where Maya predicted it.

They had entered the system at a moderate distance, but they did enter the system, unlike the pre-Psychon predictions that had them missing it to the "right." The closer approach, determined after Psychon's destruction, was going to bend them even further to the "left" -- towards what Maya spelled the Alk^inharda, but which everyone else pronounced, and usually spelled, Alkinarda.

It was like cosmic pinball of a highly dangerous kind. Although no threat was known to Maya in this system or apparent to their scanners, this had subdued some of the Alphans. Morale was only starting to recover after Psychon.

The Dorcon Fleet 1, including the Archon's flagship, elsewhere in the galaxy, was now halfway towards the Psychon starsystem.

In private quarters, the Archon cursed that the war with the Weyweq, started to obtain their meson converter technology that they would not trade, was going to take awhile longer than expected. Years, likely. The Weyweq had more tricks than expected in their use of the technology, but they were a small power, and could not hope to stand indefinitely.

In the meantime, while two other fleets continued that, this fleet was left flying in the opposite direction for a considerable period of time.

Intelligence reports were still coming in about all facets of the empire. His predecessor and ancestor had done a fine job on the big picture, but there were always messy little details, some of which the young Archon felt no patience for but to which he still had to pay attention.

Intelligence reports on Psychon had proven thin. No reports of Psychon ships anywhere. Some were thought to have left, but some of their defenses had grown increasingly exotic, including suggestions of being able to transform things artificially. This was not unlike some hints of what meson converter technology could perhaps do, albeit in a very different way.

Psychons, not surprisingly, seemed to have more of a handle on true transformational technology.

Much to the Archon's irritation, no intelligence had come in regarding the Psychon system itself. If that did not change, the Dorcons would have to probe and analyze the situation themselves.

That was still too long of a wait, Syric thought, as he paced the throne room.

A-369 DAB 1200-1800: Moonbuggy Mission

It wasn't exactly the day most would want to spend a Saturday, but Alpha was fairly active today -- though this star system did seem quiet, and eerily empty, with only one gas giant and no apparent activity. It all seemed to verify the Psychon's claims it had been damaged by the war between the so-called Star Giants, the Orcayi and Korai, tens of millennia or more before. So he felt safe enough to go ahead with today's surface mission, with Maya.

As an adjunct of Eagle flight training, Maya had learned how to drive a moonbuggy -- far simpler than Eagle flight. All Alphans were to learn eventually, as a measure of readiness, ordered during their first year post-Breakaway. Someone learning how to fly an Eagle needed to learn moonbuggy use too, so this had happened more quickly. John decided to let her get more practice, letting her drive towards a site he had picked out, having wanted her opinions on it almost since she had arrived. It was about time she went there.

Around a low hill sat their destination, still somewhat distant. Even broken, hulled, open, and shattered, it was fairly impressive, remnants of a true colossus of a machine. The Satazius it had been named. It was the Bethan gunship that the late Dione had commanded.

While the ship was still minutes away, something else was closer. When Maya visibly noticed the small "field" of square markers just in front of a nearby hillock to the side, he explained they were the graves of the deceased aliens. He had already mentioned the battle, but had not gotten into details. He silently recalled some further memories....

Dione's body had been found. Despite having been adversaries, despite her transparent and unwelcome attempt at seducing him, John had been sad it had come to killing her, her crew, and their ship. However, he and Alpha had been boxed into a corner, trapped in a prolonged battle in two other powers' endless war, and had no choice but to knock down part of the box so the other part would let itself fall away.

Dione's body had been identified, and hers was the only grave with a name: "Dione of Betha, Commander of the Gunship Satazius"

The other Bethans, what remains were found, were in the dozens. More women were found near the fragments of the front of the ship, more men towards the rear of the ship. It was a curious partial segregation that could have been coincidental, or perhaps deceptive given the massively explosive damage done to the ship. The crew now rested together around Dione's grave, their own each marked "Woman of Betha, crewmember of Satazius" or "Man of Betha, crewmember of Satazius"

They could have all been placed in unmarked graves, or even a single grave, but that was not Alpha's way. A few had been autopsied, and all had at least blood and tissue samples taken, but they had each been returned -- away from but within "sight" of the ruins of their colossal ship -- and buried individually.

There was no way of knowing the aliens' burial preference(s), so all the Alphans could do was pick a typical human method. There had been no words as each found alien was soon buried, however. There really wasn't anything to say. It had been simple silence. John had already said his final words to Dione, in the final moments of her life.

For John and Maya, the final stretch was a long, quiet one. He wondered if she was thinking about the aliens' graves in some way. About two weeks ago, she had exposed one of her own fears, about making a misstep and being thrown out of an airlock for it. He hoped that with Helena's strong repudiation of that idea, Maya would stop fearing that. He doubted anyone had mentioned Balor having been thrown out of an airlock. It would eventually have to be brought up, but hopefully they could explain it as an action of last resort.

No part of the Satazius had remained intact enough to maintain an atmosphere. The ship lay in ten major pieces (all with further damage), dozens of mid-sized ones, hundreds of small ones, and an uncountable number of tiny fragments. Huge chunks of what had so far been largely unusable metal littered the approaches to the largest intact parts, and Maya got some practice following an existing but winding trail cleared months ago. The metal had proven relatively light but extremely tough, and virtually unworkable by current metalworking techniques. Some of it would not take any current human welding techniques, while some could be welded by one rather unusual technique. Some of it could be cut, but with great difficulty. Little could be made from it, so far; but experiments on some of the smaller parts continued. The ship portion he directed Maya towards had a lot of exposed beam work. Some beams lay on the ground, but many remained attached, with alien fusing techniques that were just as difficult and sometimes impossible to cut apart.

When the moonbuggy could go no further, reaching a small, roughly circular clearing that had been made, they stopped and got out, Maya retrieving the kit of scanners and sensors she had chosen and brought. Her own scanner was a work in progress, not yet functioning.

John warned Maya to watch for any sharp edges that could cut suit and flesh, then proceeded among the thicket of beams and semi-intact, semi-shattered hull and equally damaged "internal" walls. He described the problem, and she started scans, describing her best assumptions about what the metal alloy was, stating she was not aware of any current Alphan device that would help work such metal, but that she was still being introduced to Alpha technology, and would consider this problem.

They continued in. The debris had been fairly well mapped. They worked their way to one of the power units. Maya scanned its inactive remains with multiple scanners, and after a little thought about the results, indicated the unit was quite advanced, and quite hopelessly damaged. It had been left on the ship, as the unit was too large and too much "welded" to the remaining superstructure to move. She seemed fascinated by it nonetheless, and on questioning, indicated she would welcome further opportunities to analyze the equipment.

The results were similar they reached other technological hot spots, likewise in about equal states of ruin. The computer systems were all damaged beyond function. What was not shattered, was burnt to a crisp, and most of what was left either had either burned up on Alphan analysis attempts, could not be powered, or simply could not be understood, except for a few ideas in some cases.

After the discouraging initial results and the frequent need for maintaining or repairing Alphan systems, the efforts on the alien ships had largely stalled. Some sporadic effort was still ongoing, and yielding some interesting but not yet practical results for the most part. Alpha was going to include whatever alien technology they could make work and that was deemed sufficiently safe, but only a little bit of that had happened so far. Indeed, the original team exploring the hulks was in disarray given frequent other priorities, and only preliminary exploration had been made of the most recent ships, of the Graktor and their enemy, all crashed much further from Alpha.

Still, today's exploration was a useful exercise, despite only modest additional thoughts -- at least today. It would get Maya considering salvage possibilities and thinking of more things to scan for on later visits here and elsewhere. It went on for a couple more hours, her making an increasing number of small observations and more guesses on function. They then left the ship and started returning, conversing over the commlink.

He asked about his hypothesis on what had interfered with so many Alphan systems when the Satazius had first approached the Moon. Maya politely but summarily argued against the idea, offering another hypothesis on the basis of what she had seen and partially understood, but admitting she'd have to research much more. He listened with interest, accepting her denial of his idea with casual grace. He knew science well enough to know this was commonplace, and good students of science knew not to get too invested in any one theory.

It was a good start for her, gave him more to think about, and made him decide she would visit a Graktor ship next. Maybe some part of their computer system was salvagable, even if only to find out what they had actually wanted when they attacked.

The simple foray had perhaps allowed him to net an interesting comment from her: "Mentor and I had observed the ship'remains on and orbiting your Moon when it first came into range, and it was a surprise, because it seemed from superficial scans of the base'structure that you didn't have the technology to down this many advanced ships. We assumed there were one or more battles between alien powers here."

He now explained more about the battle, while also finding it intriguing to hear an alien recount her first impression of Alpha and the Moon.

As Maya drove the last, short distance to Alpha, he noticed her glancing back at a star, and wondered if it was Psychon's. He looked at it, then higher up at Halfstar, barely more than a point of light too, albeit the brightest in sight -- though not by that much.... Looking away from there, it was impossible to miss the Alkinarda rising above the lunar horizon, its "leftmost" third, including the strange swirled-looking part Maya called the Alkinarda Rapids. The Alkinarda Complex, even only partially risen, looked much larger than it had been back at Psychon. About a third of it had risen above Alpha's horizon now.

Too much time had been wasted, he decided. The 'ring of station' passage, among others, was still nagging at him, that much of what they needed to know was probably staring at them from the whiteboard filled with alien legends.

A-369 DAB 1510-1530: Ring of Station

Sandra was once again studying the alien poems, trying to tease meaning out of them, this time in reverse order, thinking Maya's order, though probably as intended by the original sources, and faithfully relayed by Maya, may be misleading; or that even if true, that perhaps looking at them differently would help. She reached the one dubbed The Introduction last:

This time, it was not the evidently most symbolic and incomprehensible final two lines of this one that captured her attention, but part of the fourth line: 'the ring of station.' Everyone, including Sandra, had been assuming it was some bad grammar that had crept in somewhere; but now, she whispered the four words, then whispered, "the station." She abruptly remembered her nightmare. A distorted, altered version of the Graktor battle, her in an Eagle instead of Main Mission, a giant station added where none had been in real life. In her dream, she had pointed it out to Paul, he had tried to shelter in it, to the imagined death. The station destroyed, fragments flying everywhere. She ignored the nightmare images of ship fragments, ignored the pain that came even from a false version of Paul's death. What if Maya's memory or Psychon's memory was correct? What if one took the line literally? A ring comprised of the remains of a single space station?

So... what?

It did not lead anywhere -- it did not seem like a useful piece of information. Even the Moon had a ring. A ring of satellites. A ring of alien ship debris from this and prior incidents. Ring of ship, she thought, almost twittering silently at it.

Rings of metal, stuck in space, the smaller pieces largely impractical to waste individual rocket motors on downing, and tedious to transport by drop line with anti-gravity used to stabilize such loads. Available, but no time had been set aside for that. The larger pieces still impractical to move as well. Yet Flight 2 to Kaskalon had been set aside for scavenging opportunities in the 'rotting cities' on the surface.

Ring of ship. Did the Graktor want that? It was not even a ship anymore, and in fact now included parts of Graktor spacecraft.

Ring of ship. Ring of station. She lingered on the latter. Now there could be some impressive chunks of metal -- maybe.

She thought of Paul's Plan. At first, while others started calling it Paul's Plan, even that name provoked a little pain, and she had called it by its original name; but now, left as one of its primary guardians, guardian of what could become one of Paul's key legacies, she found herself wanting to use the name to honor that.

She forced her thoughts back to the topic at hand. One of the Plan's primary points was the need to obtain metal, even if currently unworkable and requiring research. Still, it was very little on which to act, and was the same problem again: taking small fragments was a lot of effort for little gain, and the big components were too large to move. At least with the debris around the Moon, Alpha still had time to consider the problem; but the material around Kaskalon would only be accessible for days.

Still, it might be worth discussing with the Commander. So she sent an electronic post requesting a meeting on Monday, less than two days away.

A-369 DAB 1900-1930: Contemplation (and...)

Maya had almost ceased thinking of this half-hour period at the end of the week as leap time, but rather as her Contemplation period. This time, though, she noted the pleasing coincidence that her thoughts would leap about, or leap away from typical daily thoughts to larger scale thoughts, either about her existence on Alpha, or existence in general.

She had started true Contemplation again. Seated on a mat on the floor, eyes closed, hands together, her thoughts ranged about, from deeply internal to very external ideas. She thought back again to her father's funeral. She had said many words, in two languages, but had left some of the more religious words out of the Alphan -- English -- version, afraid of their reaction. She knew a lot about alien religions -- and enough to know about intolerances or other negative reactions, so she had said additional words in one language, but not another. This action sat a little uneasily with her, yet such matters of deep trust would take time, if she ever decided to talk to the Alphans -- Terrans -- about such at all. Alone, though, she was free to Contemplate such outside factors. She didn't understand, though. Half her life watching a world die and then disintegrate....

This morning, she had awakened from nap not so much with a nightmare, but thinking back to her own pleas to stay with Father. By then, most of her close family had died in Psychon's cataclysm, and in the closing days, the dying had offered their minds to Psyche, something she was only aware of by words. She had awoken to the horror of thinking maybe they had suffered; but then again, if they weren't fighting Psyche, maybe not.

Thoughts swirled about her family, and how most had died, by ones and twos, first in environmental problems that began even before the volcanos, then even more vividly as the volcanos began puncturing the surface of Psychon and doing even more rapid damage.

Now, sitting alone in an alien room graciously provided to her, the sole Psychon survivor of the planet's final years could only sob at all that had been lost, for the first time able to look at the larger stretches, if not all details, except the most painful ends. Psychon had started dying before the volcanos grew in size and number, but her mother had died at the base of the first volcano to go newly active, and her father underneath the base of the last volcano to finally go active. It was a horrifying symmetry that she could barely stand at times. Yet as she struggled with these things, she found something else to cling onto, and grabbed onto it almost desperately.

It was a simple, positive memory of a recent action by these generous people. Yesterday, Helena had invited Annette and Maya to her quarters for an Alphan breakfast at Maya's snack'time, just after her difficult first experience with the Eagle simulator. Maya had been treated not just to a social'snack, but a surprise: Annette stating she wished to hold a birthday party for Maya. She and her father had celebrated her birthday not long before the Moon's arrival in the Psyoliyask system; but a few Alphans wanted to re-celebrate it in Terran years. It was to be held in the quarters of Annette and Bill, with several of Maya's friends. She was too surprised by it all to ask who, and after trying to defer, had soon accepted without further question.

Maya smiled at the thought. Though she sometimes ate alone more than she wanted, felt completely cut off from her own people, and somewhat isolated here among a people she did not know that well yet, some of whom looked at her oddly or with suspicion, there were a few going out of their way to make her feel welcome, not just in meetings or discussion sessions, but in some social activity.

By coincidence as Maya thought about the party, Annette was planning it. Two weeks ago, Bill had off-handedly mentioned the idea of having a party in her honour. It had actually originated with Annette's thought to Bill that Maya should have a good photo of her and some of her friends on Alpha, Bill's thinking a simple posed situation, and Annette's teasing him that this was silly, that it had to be a real situation. His remark about a party and Annette's wondering when Maya's birthday was had soon led her to Dr. Russell.

Annette had described the idea, and asked if the doctor had any information that could be shared. Helena had looked in records, having a precise number of days since Maya's birth, down to three decimal places, from the time she had been asked not long after her arrival. This was duly calculated to Terran and Lunar times, the latter falling at 373DAB for a celebration. Helena had advised against a surprise party, not knowing if Psychons had these and knowing Maya was still jittery about some things. Having a lot of people shout at her from the other side of an opening door just did not seem wise. Plus, Sanderson had attacked Maya from the other side of an opening door.

That still did not preclude Annette from making some preparations before even introducing the idea to Maya. Annette had invited Dr. Russell ("Please, call me Helena"). Joan Conway, of course. The Commander. Bill would be present and one of the major planners. She wasn't sure whether to invite Sandra or Alan, but decided to do so. Just a few of those already closest to Maya. She debated about Tony, but knew his reactions to her had been mixed; upon later mentioning it to Helena, the advice had been to invite him.

Then when Kate heard about the plan, she had had expressed interest, and Annette was kicking herself for not asking in the first place.

Bill and Annette's quarters were those of married non-officers, actually slightly larger than single officer quarters downlevel, and would be adequate for the event.

Alpha's population was such that birthdays occurred on most days, but when held, most of the celebrations were small, of a few people, or about the number Annette now had for Maya.

Yet not long after Kate got invited, and in fact right after the topic had been introduced to Maya in Helena's quarters Friday morning, something unexpected happened. On returning to her quarters, Annette found an electronic post from Diane Bell, wondering if there was room for another.

Soon, Annette realized relocation was needed. Wedding receptions were held in a Cafeteria, but maybe somewhere intermediate could be found, and Bill suggested maybe one of the abandoned upper-level officer's quarters was not yet repurposed and could be borrowed.

Then Annette decided to let the party idea casually "slip" to a few more people, to see if even more interest came. Alpha's sad "tradition" of small, muted birthday parties had taken hold, and Annette felt trepidation about trying to break that. However, with it now after the first year in deep space, and words about the end of a 'year of quiet mourning,' she was curious to see what response she got to this unorthodox idea.

A few women started asking in right away, some expressing a feeling it was not only a chance to celebrate Maya's birthday, but in a sense make it a welcoming party, and to show a sign of further gratitude for her actions some weeks back.

Word apparently got around. June Washington asked in. Carl van der Mir, an electrical engineer Annette scarcely even knew, expressed interest. Douglas McLeod, an astronomer, did likewise. A few pilots. Two people from Security. Smitty from Technical. A couple more from that Section. Names continued trickling in.

Suddenly, a cafeteria seemed necessary, though Annette was doubting it would be filled to its 50-person capacity. Then she had doubts. Maya and a large crowd. Maybe Annette had made a mistake. She asked Helena, and far from being reproving, she seemed to think it would be good for Maya and others. Helena even said surprising Maya with the change of venue would work, would be good, as long as attendees stayed calm when she arrived.

More details were discussed.

S-370 DAB 1920-2040: Never

"Never hit or strike a girl or woman. It is not what a good boy or man does, and no good can ever come of it."

Greg Sanderson's father had taught him that. Did every good father teach every son that, or just to the ones who seemed more prone to solving problems physically? Had his father sensed something in Greg, or was it just something rather common to say? Greg did not know. His father had died not that long after some of those statements, when Greg was fourteen. His father had been saying a lot of things before that, and then he had told Greg he was dying of cancer. He had not lasted long after that revelation. It had not been fair.

Now Greg was far from the world on which his father was buried, on that world's runaway Moon, now counting someone from another world as a member, and Greg had struck.... Did the strange-looking humanoid alien female from Psychon count as a woman? She wasn't even human, yet the word 'humanoid' implied close enough. Even Greg had thought of her as a 'woman' a couple times, more out of convenience, yet....

Greg had never even come close to striking a woman. Even an ex-girlfriend he had had conflict with, who one day had started striking him, had not garnered more than putting up his arms to deflect her, until she gave up -- and broke up with him. He had been angry then, but had not wanted to strike her.

Yet he had lashed out at the alien. He and others, even Verdeschi, had been suspicious of her, and suddenly finding Maya in a sensitive area....

Some of this he had already discussed with Dr. Mathias, while he tried to hold down his disdain for that process. The truth was his assault had been stupid, but not much more than how accepting so many Alphans were of the alien.

A lot of questions came up in such sessions about his reaction to Maya as a lion, but already, that was a memory that was fading. It was just too strange, yet also mixed with such massive relief that it had been a real incident, had been an alien's actual ability, rather than some total madness, actually had him setting that aside. Others were more creeped out, Greg knew. Good, they should be, he tended to think. Let someone else take up the mantle on that; he was glad to just to let the weird memories start to fade from mind.

He was still angry about the technicality regarding commlocks, and most bitter over what he considered menial duties. Peeling potatoes? Mopping the common-area restrooms? Hauling garbage and sorting recyclables? How unoriginal were those punishments?

That day over two weeks ago, he had stopped by to talk to Joan; but after the incident, when the dust was just settling, Joan had sided firmly with Maya. He and Joan had been friends, somewhat, more via Jane than anything, but it still irked him. Joan had attempted no further contact, and he wanted none.

At least his friends from his survey team had stopped by on occasion, and he to their quarters, or for getting together over a meal.

It was from a most unexpected quarter, at first anyway, that he found new female friendship. He had known Susan Crawford as an acquaintance, both before and after the birth of Jackie, now -- fortunately -- renamed George.

Only a few days after being released from detention, he had run across Susan just after they had gotten off their respective duty shifts, and they had gone to a cafeteria and talked. In the week since, they started striking up a friendship, often chatting in the open lounge near the lift in her residential block. Sometimes George was there too. Greg had not been the best around babies in the past, and George seemed to get a sense of that, sometimes seeming fine around Greg, but mostly getting fussy when Susan handed him to Greg.

Still, Susan eventually invited Greg into her quarters. George was always there, and that was fine -- like a silent, mutual agreement this was not about a relationship, but of a friendship. Greg still hurt from Jane being lost, and it soon became clear Susan still hurt from losing Jack, being widowed, and marooned on Alpha. Susan did not talk about Jackie/Jarak at first, nor did Greg vent his suspicions about Maya as he had with Joan. Yet eventually, over the days, both of them had started drifting to the topic of those aliens, sometimes quietly in the lounge, sometimes in more detail in quarters.

They had sympathy for each other's viewpoint -- and for each other.

Today was another day talking in the lounge. As people came out of the lift, sometimes with babies, sometimes not -- this block and level held almost half the families -- he'd look up and check who it was, give only the slightest acknowledgement before looking back to Susan to continue talking. He took little note that it was like old Security habits remained, but did notice Susan looked increasingly at ease around him.

That a few parents were uneasy with Greg was not something Sanderson sensed.

M-371 DAB 1030-1350: Growing 'Storm

By the time the Data Analyst got to discuss her latest thoughts with the Commander, she already doubted the wisdom of requesting a meeting for it. What she had was sketchy and not very useful, an interpretation that 'ring of station' may not be a grammatical error at all, but an orbiting ring of fragments of a giant, destroyed space station -- that Alpha had no means of retrieving anyway. Still, Paul had written into the Plan that such things must be considered. Thus the meeting. So she felt better as she went in and briefly summarized her new interpretation.

"I think it is an interesting thought," the Commander said. "How did you reach it?"

Sandra was surprised. She wasn't used to the Commander asking such questions. She felt under a tiny bit of scrutiny, and wasn't sure why. Maybe he was concerned about her state of mind. The answer wouldn't help, but she didn't want to be evasive either, for the Commander would recognize that quickly. She could omit some parts, though. "I was dreaming of the Graktor attack, only there was a station there too, and both they and their enemies were attacking the station as well, and its debris added to the ship debris. I later started wondering about the 'ring of station' phrase."

He seemed satisfied with the answer, then said, "You're right about all the impracticalities; but maybe it's about time we corner them."

"Commander?"

"De-orbiting the ship debris in lunar orbit was always a timing problem, both for not having much time to consider it, and for how little time from the burn there would be to retrieve the rocket. We don't have a lot of small rockets to spare, nor do I want to start borrowing reaction systems from Eagles for the same reasons. The spine booster is the only one we've currently got, and it's damaged. The winch system of slinging loads under the Eagle and keeping them stable via anti-gravity, is only for small loads, and the rockets are nowhere near the force of the main motors, anyway."

They speculated the hypothetical station must have been pretty large for its debris to make any sort of ring, even thin and all but invisible except to scanners. The problem was the same: how to displace large items, hopefully larger than an Eagle. In this case, it was compounded by enormous distance; a large delta-V would have to be applied, and with high precision, they came to realize -- a problem that cobbling a system of rocket motors together on short notice did not seem to solve. Eagles simply were not designed for anything large, and small stuff would not be worth the effort.

"What about hauling it behind the Eagle?" Sandra asked.

"But from where on the Eagle? You'd have to haul the object behind the Eagle, and chains would likely hit the engines."

"Yes, I was just thinking that as soon as I said it."

The discussion stalled, and eventually came to an end.

Though the discussion had ended, the thoughts it got going in John's head continued, and he eventually found himself in Alan's office, laying it all out. Chains fouling the engines was a huge concern, yet....

Alan got a thoughtful look, and said, "I reckon we could build a rig, in place of a pod, with long, curved, carbon fiber prongs... almost more like wings but curved far back, away and beyond the engines, and set up some chain-and-spring setup. Not sure how, but again, that is just for starters. You don't know the mass of any object, right?"

"No, we would not know until we get there."

"More like not at all. Even spiraling a course outwards, how can one calculate the navigation when you are trying to accelerate some hunk of metal with an unknown mass?"

"Hmmm, I know, but I was hoping your training presented some sort of option as far as Eagle capacities. My training never mentioned anything like it."

"For using Eagles as locomotives on an unknown-mass drive? Ha! Sorry, nothing like that here either."

"Let's bring a technical designer in here...."

"Well, I first have to wonder about more basic problems, such as whether the navigation is even feasible."

"My instinct is yes; but you have a point. Let's have a conversation with McLeod."

Astrophysicist Douglas McLeod was incredulous. "Shoot masses larger than an Eagle--"

"Much larger, if we can," the Commander said.

"... at a distant Moon?"

"Basically."

"No, the precision needed is probably far higher, especially keeping the safety of Alpha, Nuclear Waste Areas, and other key sites in mind. Besides, flinging objects at an approaching Moon creates a high impact velocity and would vaporize most of the object on impact -- not do much more than create a new crater. It would probably make more sense to push things out in front of the Moon, though something about that bothers me. Maybe a curved approach, sneak up on the side... make each chunk take a tangential crash landing, which could be softer, maybe."

The Commander nodded slightly. "Sounds good."

"One problem."

"Unknown mass."

"You got it, Commander. That's a difficult navigation problem. Probably need to start the Eagle burn and then see where the Eagle and what it's hauling -- or maybe just the Eagle -- goes and compensate the course accordingly."

"But can it be done?" Alan asked with mild impatience.

"I don't know. I'll have to run some scenarios, and probably get someone from Computer involved."

"Talk to June Washington," the Commander said.

"Commander, if you don't mind me asking, why all of this in the first place?" Douglas asked. "What unknown masses?"

"Possible scrap metal in orbit of the planet we will be approaching in three weeks."

"Scrap metal.... Oh, Paul's Plan?"

"Exactly. Spaceship hulls have not been the easiest to deal with at this point, but maybe a massive station was designed differently."

"How do we know this? Maya?"

"Ancient poems and legends she knows, a line in a poem in this case. 'Ring of station.'"

"Ring of station. A ring that was a station?" Douglas wondered.

"No, a.... Wait a minute. What about a Ringworld-like scenario? Niven someone. Or someone Niven speculated--"

"Larry Niven. 1970, if I recall."

"What about it? A Ringstation? Ringmoon?"

"Huh, interesting thought, but unlikely. It was criticised as an unstable system. The ring would eventually drift out of the orbit it was built around, unless stabilized, but many thought that would still be impractical. Better just to build large stations at intervals, I think."

There was silence, as they got back to their original thought train.

"Captain Carter," Douglas said, "if this goes anywhere, I assume you'd want a scenario set up in the Eagle simulator."

The Chief Pilot nodded. "As soon as possible."

"I'll need to work with Reconnaissance, but how exactly would the Eagle be configured to do such a haul in the first place? I'm not a pilot, but I would have to guess the winch system and underside thrusters are wholly inefficient for this."

"That was going to be our next stop, to see if there is a way of rigging something up such that the four main engines can be used for thrust. The main question for you at this moment is, assuming that, whether the idea is theoretically possible?"

"I don't have the data for theor--"

"Hypothetically, then. Gut feel."

"Well, gut feel is that we have some chance of doing it."

"Approved. Proceed, top priority."

"Sir, I was working on Alkinarda scenarios, in case the Moon misses this bridge or whatever and we end up passing among the Shepherds and Veil."

"Any results yet?" the Commander asked.

"No, we're still too far to resolve interference from the blue giant Shepherds to tell what's beyond."

"Have you contact Maya regarding--"

"Yes, and she's working with June to write some specialized programming to separate out those signatures, but that is still ongoing."

After they left McLeod's lab, Alan looked at John and shook his head.

"I'm beginning to wish we could have considered some way of getting around this whole Alkinarda mess altogether."

"Alan, it crossed my mind. Our fate was altered at Psychon, and by the time we realized it, the bluish nebula was already the largest phenomenon in our sky."

"Yeah. Two ancient space powers warring, and that gets created? A tear, dozens of light years across, in this galaxy. I was with Tony in laughing at the term Star Giants, but when I saw that nebula, growing in our sky, again recently, even weeks away from it, I'm less dismissive."

"Giants stomping around..." John mused. "We'd have been ants to them, I suspect. The Half Star system behind us, mostly destroyed. Psychon apparently was just far enough away to escape."

Speculation on ancient events couched in legendary terms abruptly came to an end as they reached the Flight Design lab, to talk to Jim Haines. He had been Dr. Linden's assistant and protégé on ship design, and though he did not have Linden's level of expertise, he was still was a valuable resource to call on.

Jim Haines tended to feel relief any time he could return to his mainstay work. The Voyager records were a weight of their own, sometimes light when his fascination buoyed the experience, but still often difficult.

What was presented was startling and incredible. A new pod design with a very unique purpose? It was a breath of fresh air.

Within an hour, the idea of a carbon fiber design, though attractive and stirring up thoughts in Jim, including some curious tangents with the group, was deemed unfeasible for this purpose. Time was short, and to design something strong enough and with such a shape and relatively new materials was totally impractical, beyond even Alphan ingenuity at this point. "We simply haven't practiced at any beyond small scale experimental work, and this is big scale production. Even if we jerry rig it," Jim explained in summary at one point.

"What then?"

"Metal beams." The designer started drawing on a handy sheet of paper. "A beam or box girder along the long axis of where a pod would normally go, another two beams sticking at right angles, like ungainly wings, one at the front of the box, against the back of the forward section, and one at the back of the box, against the front of the rear section. Each attached to a docking mechanism at either end, like any other pod. Then a beam on each side, parallel to the main axis again. On the back, some sort of rig to turn two anchor points into three and still be clear of the engines and exhaust."

"Three?" John asked.

"Need three for a stable tripod in 3-D flight. Otherwise the Eagle or load could start pitching or rolling wildly.

"Oh, of course."

"I'm not sure I like tethers in space, but a tripod and this configuration may minimize the risk. Also, there would have to be counterweights in the front, probably on either side of the pilot module, maybe even slightly in front of it. Finally, maybe two diagonal or curved braces where needed." The officers just stared at the drawing for a bit, prompting Jim to continue. "It's back of the napkin kind of stuff, but this would have no moving parts. Find some beams of the right length or cut them. Then weld them together. Nothing fancy, given it sounds like there is some urgency. One bigger problem, though: we don't have spare structural beams like that sitting around. It could take weeks just to manufacture them all for a rig."

"Three," the Commander stated.

"Three weeks?"

"Three weeks, yes; but I meant three rigs, I hope -- more if possible."

"More like three weeks for one... if we're lucky. I can't speak for Manufacturing, either."

"What about some of the structural beams from those destroyed alien ships on the Moon's surface?" the Commander asked.

"From what I've heard, we've had minimal success working those materials."

"We're not talking fine re-working them into base sections or Eagle frames, but cutting and slapping some right-length ones together into a rigging."

"Hmm.... If we could get them to take welds.... Some are relatively low density, right? Total guess, but maybe the weight isn't so bad. Let me draw up something more. Do you know of any analysis describing characteristics of the alien alloys?"

The discussion continued, and a go-ahead for a more formal, but still preliminary, design diagram was given, and for Jim to start gathering a team.

After that, a copy of the initial, very informal sketch in John's hand, he and Alan left Jim to start pondering a finer-level design.

Alan snuck a peek back at the unorthodox, almost slap-dash design.

A funny thought passed through John's mind. "Strangest Eagle 'pod' yet?" he asked the pilot.

"Oh, yeah. They'd think us daft for building a whole new 'pod' on the strength of a fuzzy interpretation -- with all due respect, Commander -- of a vague line in an alien legend that even another alien doesn't understand."

"It's either going to be a windfall or one of our biggest wastes of effort and material...."

"Hmm," Alan said. "Still, I think Paul might have smiled at the chance. A few beams worth of metal -- that we can always reuse if this doesn't work -- for a chance at a bigger haul, to help his plan ideas along, hopefully."

M-371 DAB 1900-2010: Flights 3 and 4

The new idea was soon brought to Meeting Room CC, the one closest to Command Center, where they had been filling whiteboards with poems and plans.

The whole command staff, plus Maya, was there. The brainstorms were shared with those who had not heard. Maya seemed startled by the idea, the others a little less so, perhaps due to Paul's Plan, which was not discussed at this juncture, just the point that metal resources were valuable for any future repair, rebuilding, or new building needs.

"It is a clever idea," Maya said. She had tended to be profuse with compliments, perhaps not used to such large-scale creative thinking, or wanting to seem arrogant. It didn't matter, because it seemed an honest, unsolicited opinion.

John looked at her. "Does this thought trigger concerns, from your perspective regarding the legends, or any interpretations you may have heard?"

"No.... Sandra's interpretation of 'ring of station' is not excluded by anything I know, and I do not feel other concerns."

"Any idea if anyone knows about Kaskalon once having one or more intact stations in orbit?" Tony asked.

"Negative. It has been 'ring of station' for as long as anyone knows, that I am aware of."

John asked about a Ringstation/Ringmoon idea, but she had similar misgivings, and added, "Also, I suspect it would have been... famous."

Tony again showed some frustration with the seeming lack of exploration by Psychons or anyone the Psychons knew about. Maya again explained she was not aware of any Psychon exploration of the area, while other races or species probably kept the information secret for self-benefit, as Tony himself had already speculated.

"But why would Psychons not explore it?"

"Half'star is the closest any of us wanted to go, or so it was said. If there were quiet explorations, I am not aware. There was an old myth few paid any attention to that says that before recorded history, Psychons witnessed the Alk^inharda appear like a tear in the sky, around the time of some 'strange occurrences' that the oral traditions did not specify or were lost before writing. There were statements that I am aware about indicating the signs of wars between the Giants were visible in the sky, to those pre-history Psychons. Explosions perhaps. Strange but again unspecified events in the sky. The Alk^inharda appearing was said to be the final and most frightening apparition of the War."

"Yet you don't seem too nervous about all of us approaching," Tony commented.

She looked at the Commander, but then said, "A lot of it is ancient... tradition, not necessarily taken literally. My circumstances are different, and I have advised the Commander of my more clear concerns in other aspects."

John of course knew exactly to what the last referred. She had expressed fears that Alphans weren't concerned enough about what they were approaching. Yet right now, he picked up on something else, that she seemed to be picking the word 'tradition' carefully -- but almost more like she was picking her way over a different word she maybe didn't want to use. Perhaps 'religion' he wondered.

For some reason, this put more concern in him. This area made even the advanced Psychons nervous. That they and various other peoples believe a war had actually ripped part of the fabric of space was something Alphans had perhaps been taking too lightly, earlier, until private talks with Maya and later Tony had changed that.

Maya had 'taken over' one whiteboard with her diagrams and the poems. John had been using another whiteboard on the back wall of the relatively small meeting room. On it already were Flights 1 and 2, the former being to explore the 'city under glass' for the 'key' to crossing the Alkinarda Bridge, the latter to explore the 'rotting cities' for any potentially interesting salvage material. He walked up to the board, and added:

Flight 3

• Op. Salvage Station
• "Ring of Station" -- salvage metal in orbit
• Eagle ct.: 6? (3? Hauler, 3? support)
• Carter, co-pilot
• 5? more pilots, 2-5? more co-pilots

Alan chuckled. "Hauler Eagles, eh? Good a name as any."

"What are the three support Eagles for?" Tony asked.

John took that question. "Spotters for the Haulers, plus personnel to make the hook-up between the Hauler rig and the chunk of presumed metal."

They talked and brainstormed further details, while also starting to discuss risk vs. reward. On the risk front, besides the chance for an accident in designing, constructing, and using such unorthodox 'pods' -- especially with scavenged beams from alien spaceships. Plus, it was all built on what might be nothing more than a shaky interpretation of nothing more than a grammatical error in an already vague poem. They might spend time and resources building Hauler 'pods' -- only to have nothing to haul.

Eventually, Sandra made an observation. "There is another part of Paul's Plan that this might help with. What some of you might not know yet is we have picked up a temporary stowaway in our huge hyperspatial bubble."

"Oh?" Alan asked, while Maya got that already-familiar look of curiosity on her face.

"It appears we will be traveling with a dormant comet for a few days. According to Douglas McLeod, it was in the right place to be in the space that got encased in our bubble as we reached the far side of the Half Star system, and it is now traversing our space at the same pace it was moving in its own. It will eventually exit at the edge of our bubble, some days from now -- but well away from where it was."

There was quiet, and then Tony said, "So?"

"Survey teams have been finding some small deposits of frozen ice water in polar crater floors, and we take occasional comet hits. Both have sufficed for now, but we have had to consider energy-expensive backup plans."

"Like splitting out trace water bound to regolith?" Tony asked.

"Yes."

"Regolith?" Maya asked.

"Moon rock," Tony provided, before turning back to Sandra, and saying, "It sounds like this comet will be long gone before the Haulers are ready."

"It is true," Sandra confirmed, "but with this new type of pod, we can be ready for the next one. Expanding our water supply is a key part of Paul's Plan too. Gathering small supplies from planets may not be sufficient, long-term."

"If we're so lucky as to have ready access to a small comet again," Tony said. "Besides, we could lose half the material to dispersion from the heat of the crash."

Sandra gave a tiny shrug.

Tony was not being argumentative for negativity's sake, nor was necessarily even treating each statement as what he really believed; but once again, trying to ensure points weren't missed. In smaller Command Conferences than the Commander used to organize, the diversity of viewpoints had gone down with the loss of Paul, Victor, and David. Even if the experience level of the survivors was higher than in their first months, it still wasn't enough. Part of what Koenig felt qualified Verdeschi for the role of First Officer was just how willing Tony was to be a contrarian to almost any viewpoint presented, even if he agreed with the viewpoint, or his arguments perhaps made him look like a fount of negativity -- or even a little foolish -- at times.

"That may be true, but again, the material cost of building is relatively low."

"Okay," Tony was saying now, "but are we sure about building three of these rigs right now?"

John sat back. "Same arguments on low cost, and say we only build one, and regret it when we get there?"

"True. I see your point. For the cost of some of the so-far otherwise virtually unusable alien alloys, and two standard pod docking ends for each Hauler framework, already salvaged from other largely destroyed Eagles, and the effort, we could have new multi-use tools at hand. What if the attempt fails at either purpose, and the idea has to be abandoned?" Tony asked.

"We can always disassemble the frameworks and reuse the metal and pod ends for other sensible purposes."

Tony sat back, putting his hands behind his head for a moment, then saying, "Okay, I'll buy it all, at least in these preliminary phases."

"Question is," Helena said, "can we build these fast enough to deploy at Kaskalon?"

"We don't know yet," John said. There was silence for a little while, then John solicited other opinions.

There were a few minor comments, but they soon drifted towards discussing the Flight 3 plan Koenig had jotted on the second whiteboard. Though various arrangements were discussed regarding searching for suitable fragments and just how much EVA might be needed to secure them to chains and hauling apparatus, the core idea stood up, and remained.

Alan scrutinized the board. "Well, if Flight 1 has at least one Eagle, Flight 2 has at least two Eagles, and Flight 3 has six Eagles, that's already nine Eagles. I'd suggest a Flight 4 for support roles."

"Comprised of?" John asked the officer.

Tony jumped in. "At least one combat Eagle, for a start."

"Combat?" Maya asked, speaking for only the second time since almost the start of the meeting.

"Precaution," John explained: "You mentioned Kaskalon gets visitors from time to time."

"Yes."

"Maybe we should have two Combat ready," Tony said.

"No..." John thought aloud. "One present to show a defensive posture protecting other Eagles. More could be easier to misinterpret."

"With all due respect--"

"I'll consider it, but one for now. What else, Alan?"

"A refueling Eagle."

"Done."

"Flight 4 could drop the commsats instead of Flight 1," Sandra said.

Alan leaned forward. "With two Eagles in higher orbit, if we keep them far enough apart, we'd really only need two commsats, and that's four point coverage for most of the planet."

"Okay," John said, erasing the commsats mention from Flight 2, and after Helena mentioned medical need, added:

Flight 4

• Support
• Eagle(s): 2? (Combat, Refuel)
• personnel: ?? (inc. paramedic)
• drop 2 commsats

With this meeting, the number of Flights had doubled and the number of Eagles had almost quadrupled, from three to eleven.

It was shaping up to be a complex mission. Mission launch was to be 23 days from now.

T-372 DAB 0700-0800: Preparation

Helena stopped by to visit Maya at her quarters, wanting reassurance from the Psychon that she was going to the party being thrown in her honor, and out of curiosity about something else. Maya reassured Helena she was going to the party. Her reaction betrayed a few signs of awkwardness, though, showing that even among what Maya thought was a small group of friends, a new social situation was of concern. Maya seemed willing to throw herself into just about any new situation, yet with some trepidation too, especially where it was social rather than scientific. Not really shy, but awkward.

Still, it was reassuring enough, so Helena got to the next question: "So, what are you wearing to the party?"

"A dress," Maya answered. It was a completely vague answer, especially considering Maya seemed to prefer wearing skirts most of the time anyway, and tended to call both dresses and skirts by the word "dress." So Helena asked further, and soon discovered Maya meant a skirt-style uniform. "You can't do that!" Helena said.

"Do what?"

"Go to a party in a uniform, especially when you are the guest of honor."

"Should I not be clothed in more than casual clothes?"

"What do you think casual clothes are for?" Of course, casual clothing was not frequently worn on Alpha much in the last year, but was slowly starting to come back. This sort of larger-scale party, however....

"Exercise, ah...." Maya uttered, already running out of answers. Clearly she had been missing out, and this party couldn't come soon enough.

"For a woman who owns one of the most beautiful dresses I have ever seen, you sure act like you don't know how to dress up a little."

"Up or down?"

"Ah... well both. Don't distract! Speaking of your Psychon dress, what about that?"

"No, I would rather not," Maya said, quietly but with a rather firm sound to it, Helena thought.

"Okay, but there is nothing wrong with it. It doesn't have to be a sad thing." Maya said nothing, and Helena realized she had made the only point she could probably make at the moment, so her thoughts moved on, wondering if Janina Conway had neglected giving Maya other aspects of a woman's wardrobe, but doubting it. "Can I take a look?" Helena asked, making a vague gesture in the direction of the closet and the low, wide chest of drawers.

"Of course," Maya said with a hand gesture Helena had never seen. Maya was starting to adopt some human-style body language, but sometimes did curious things with her fingers.

Helena walked over to the chest, on top of which was a microscope, plus a couple smaller pieces of equipment she ignored as she reached for the nearest drawer. On opening it, Helena was a little startled, for it was filled with various random bits and chunks of circuitry and components, half of it looking like rejects -- along with some equipment to work on it. Somehow, it seemed so like Maya to fill clothes drawers with such stuff.

Helena closed the drawer, looked up on the counter above the drawer, and finally noticed a device she had never seen before, seemingly half-disassembled. Half-finished, Helena realized, remembering John's being happy that Maya had come to him asking for permission to build a "general-purpose scanner" out of Alphan technology but with some Psychon ideas of things to scan for. "I heard about what you are building. How long before it is ready, do you think?"

"I don't know if I can put in everything I want, but I will have something complete before Bridge'world -- Kaska'lon -- hopefully with most or all of the features. It is my first attempt to make anything useful with this technology, so.... I'm sorry, that came out poorly."

Helena brushed aside the concern, then asked, "Where are your casual clothes?"

"Opposite drawer." A peek at the closet revealed another curious habit of Maya's: she had some clothes folded up at the bottom of her closet space.

Helena wondered if or when John might give Maya a lab. Given her security situation, maybe it wasn't practical yet, but she was already calling on guards herself. Even if Maya got a laboratory of her own, Helena realized Maya was likely to be a lot like Victor, in one way: she would probably fill both laboratory and personal space with all sorts of technical material. Maya already seemed more like a woman about it, though, taking time to put most items in drawers and only keeping key things out and most handy. Victor had never been one to 'waste time' on being 'too neat' about things. Helena could see both ways as equally effective, though she of course strongly preferred order. Maya was as neat as she could be, if rather unorthodox about it.

Yet again, Helena felt the pain of losing Victor, but at this moment, mixing Maya in her thoughts of Victor, it struck her even more how those two would have likely struck up a wonderful friendship. In some ways, they seemed so much alike: use of personal space, unashamed fascination at new things, friendly and welcoming personality.

Helena pulled out of her brief reverie, and checked in the lower-right dresser drawer Maya had pointed out. The first thing she saw was a colorful piece of clothing, probably a dress. She pulled it out. It was indeed a dress, generally light-colored, festive, happy, with a medium neckline, and probably a little clingy but still fairly modest too. In some of those ways, it was not a whole lot different in general terms than Maya's Psychon dress. Helena had seen other articles below it, but it struck Helena that perhaps Maya had put this one on top in hopes of having some occasion to use it. So Helena looked no further.

"This seems perfect. Try it on."

Maya tried to hide a smile, as she turned towards the bathroom, but Helena caught it. The Psychon was again being cautious, it seemed. She couldn't blame Maya, though, overwhelmed by a totally new environment. Despite numerous cultural similarities, there were differences, and it was clear that Maya did not want to make too many assumptions. Wearing a uniform to a party when she clearly was hoping to wear that dress?

A few minutes later, Maya emerged, and sure enough....

"Perfect." Helena resisted the urge to more directly hint that she knew Maya already knew it probably was, and simply hoped Maya got the message anyway.

The fact that the dress would probably turn more than a few men's eyes was not lost on Helena, though she did not have the slightest idea if Maya yet realized the interested glances, looks, and sometimes even stares she had sometimes garnered.

"What are you wearing to the party?" Maya asked.

The question surprised Helena -- for two reasons. That she was asking it -- though that was simple reciprocation, something Maya had started from early on. Yet it was more the question itself: it was one Helena could not recall being asked since before she had come to Alpha, probably even a few years before that.

"Okay," Helena said. "Let's go see. Oh, no, you have to save that dress now." At first, Maya looked puzzled, then nodded, either not caring to ask or getting Helena's point. "Can you transform just...?"

"Clothes only?" Maya asked. "Not yet. That seems like a simple thing, but it is really more difficult to learn initially, then becomes easy, though it takes time to increase the duration to the... hour."

Helena smiled to herself. A simple thing?

Maya started walking away, to change. "Oh, can you call please call a guard for me?" Maya asked, albeit with fatigued voice, as if tired of this frequent need. Maya could call one herself, but Helena was quick to respond to the request.

A few minutes later, Maya duly changed back to uniform, they headed to Helena's quarters, chatting amiably.

"That there will be a whole eight or so people there for my birthday, all talking to me, is not something I am used to any more. Janina was invited too, correct?"

Helena had to smother the urge to smile. Maya had no idea what Annette had been up to. "I'm sure Janina was invited."

Five minutes later, Maya was expressing similar statements about Helena's dress that Helena had about Maya's. Helena felt a little subdued, not being used to this anymore either, and when they were done, Helena felt like she had let some of the fun slip by, too reserved in her own way.

It seemed that perhaps Maya was not the only one who apparently missed the simple chatting of two friends.

T-372 DAB 0830-1030: Weapons Training

When the door opened, Tony was startled to discover he no longer had that tiny bit of surprise upon seeing Maya's face. He was starting to get used to it, though she always seemed to give him something to look at, either with a welcoming expression, a new hairstyle -- she seemed to have many -- or just overall.

It wasn't just him adapting to her, but her to Alpha. Sandra and Tony had migrated management of Maya's time to Maya herself, overseen by Sandra and Tony but now hers to work out. Priorities still came from them or the Commander, and sometimes she had to ask to sort it out. She seemed to want to assign herself more work on top of the fact that she spent much of her free time studying technical matters, but John had insisted there would be times of stress with a lot more work, and when not those times, wanted her to have other time as well.

"Where are we going?" she asked with an open expression as she left her room and started walking.

"Well, it is probably time for you to try training on a sidearm."

"Side'arm?" she asked, another charmingly baffled look on her face, then glancing down at her arm.

"Uh, not arm, but armament, that you wear on your side. It is just one word: s-i-d-e-a-r-m."

"Oh, a fusion rather than a contraction."

It was that linguistic quirk of Maya's, which Tony still didn't entirely understand. Something about Psychon language being filled with words that were contractions of other words, some of which were later further compacted into new words. Smitty, the amateur linguist, pointed out English was full of such words, but done in a few different styles than in Psychon, that had her using a strange combination of English markup and Psychon assumptions.

"What I mean is a stun gun."

Now she gave him a subtle why didn't you just say so the first time look that was actually quite human of her.

He laughed and said, "Sorry, I was using an older, more generic term the first time."

At least she didn't apologize for her subtle reaction.

This training, he was seeing to personally, so he took her to the Weapons Section. During the reshuffling of rooms started a couple months ago, Security Center had gotten its own target range, but the facility in Weapons Section was a simpler range, kept for beginners, at least for now. Everyone would eventually get weapons training, on the chance of a mission. Besides, Maya needed another introduction.

Petrov was seeing to minor upgrade tasks, and when Tony brought Maya in, Petrov eyed her warily. Tony brought Maya right over and introduced her, and happily, the wary expression mostly disappeared from his face, though it was not replaced with any real warmth or conversation. That had little to do with Maya, though, as he was not an expressive type, and was generally laconic in tone.

Still, it seemed good words about Maya had been filtering around the base, preceding her as it were, and much of the remaining wariness was simply mostly over meeting her face to face, rather than Maya as some like-father-like-daughter or some-strange-creature threat. It had been four weeks, and it seemed the goal of being able to let her move about on her own after a month was attainable.

Petrov asked no questions about Psychon weapons cutting right through the shield, but those questions had been answered some time before.

Maya seemed relieved the introduction went smoothly. Tony and Maya each signed off as trainer and trainee on the laser range, Maya signing in English cursive.

First, though, they sat down on a couple chairs to cover basic information, including safety.

Safety. As recently as a week ago, he didn't even trust her enough to let her walk on his right side, nearest the sidearm he always wore when in uniform. He had increasingly thought it silly considering that if she really wanted to suddenly harm him while walking next to him, there was little he could really do about an initial surprise. Besides, he found it increasingly difficult to distrust her that much. Why would she suddenly just attack him?

So finally, he gave it up. The first time, he intentionally walked closer to the wall, forcing a rather surprised Maya to move to his right. She had looked rather puzzled, before smiling a bit and continuing on, seemingly catching the significance of the move. How long had she noticed his consistently keeping her to his left? How long ago had she guessed the meaning?

Since then, he had not pushed one way or another, but let them form up naturally. Perhaps not surprisingly, she still ended up on his left side more often than his right. It seemed she could be a creature of habit too, including for the walk over here.

Still, giving her weapons training had been a little difficult. It was only weeks from reaching Kaskalon, and John had pointed out she was going to be on a mission with a lot of unknowns -- except it was known to receive other alien visitors from time to time. Maya needed to know how to handle Alphan weapons. It was that simple.

As usual, Maya listened attentively to the training. She seemed a little hesitant. She had not handled weapons, but stated she understood the need.

When he finally gave her a stun gun, she took it tentatively, waited for his order, then aimed it tentatively at the laser-insulated electronic target, and missed badly. She was not shaking or anything. She just wasn't used to a gun.

Still, her aim slowly started improving to the point that she was at least hitting within the edge of the target, and an occasional, random near-center hit. Whatever it was that gave her high precision in calculation did not extend to any alien advantage in personal coordination. Though graceful with just about any other movement, such was not the case with a weapon. She had to learn targeting the old-fashioned way.

He didn't like her tentative attitude, however. Standing again off to one side during one volley series, out of danger but in view of her face, he could see a sort of calm that had not been there before, but still mixed with hesitation. It was not at all like he had heard from Alan on how she "flew" the Eagle simulator, pushing to the edge of the technical specs, almost aggressively yet with the calm of thinking she understood the machine's limit yet still having to learn that constantly pushing the machine to the edge when not necessary created a lot of wear and tear. None of that attitude was present here. She doesn't want to hurt anyone, he thought absently at first, echoing what he thought was like something she had once said somewhere. After Sanderson's attack, he realized.

Still, this would not do. So he set a new context for her. "Okay, Maya, you need to look serious. Pretend you are on a team with a few of us, and that someone else is threatening us. You've realized they only respect a show of potential force. You don't want to fire, but you will if you have to prevent us from being hurt." On a lark, he had left out an explicit reference to defending herself, leaving it implicit in the scenario but making it much more about defending other Alphans as well.

To his great surprise, Maya responded. Her look turned very serious. The tentativeness evaporated. She leaned her head down very slightly, much like any human would, looking forward with slightly upturned eyes from the angle. No smile. Serious, virtually unblinking eyes. Her unique eyebrows, especially at this angle, giving her an even more intense look. Whoa. "That's it, exactly." No, he didn't want to be on the wrong end of that look. Not nasty, just determined, calm, calculating.

He decided to go with this flow, mixing in more of the tactical situations at this early stage rather than just pure target practice. Her aim even seemed to improve noticeably, though it would still take as much training and practice, like with anyone else.

W-373 DAB 1950-2130: Celebration

It was hopefully one of the last times Tony would have to escort Maya around the base to somewhere, but it was certainly one of the more unique cases, of taking her to a fairly large social gathering in her honour.

Annette had not invited him as the Security Officer, but as a friend, she had made it fairly clear, which was puzzling to him because he wasn't thinking of Maya as a friend, even while part of him thought he should be -- should have been for awhile.

Still, he felt the urge to act the Security Officer. That was more difficult when she emerged dressed in a cheerful, slightly clingy yet modest dress. Used to seeing her in a uniform and occasionally workout clothes, this was different, especially with yet another new and attractive hairstyle.

"Nice dress," he said in a casual tone.

"Thank you," she replied automatically, with a simple smile, then wondered if he meant the dress or her in the dress, or both. It was something she knew, albeit not from personal experience, that Psychon men frequently did to express interest in a woman, probably one of the most ancient social romantic conventions on Psychon, if not over many worlds. Tony had not expressed interest in any way Maya had noticed before, however, so she dismissed the thought, for it was also perfectly typical for men and women to compliment each other on clothing for general reasons too, regardless of either side's romantic availability.

Besides, she figured that if she did harbor any hopes of having a romantic relationship with an Alphan male at some point, it would make no sense to make a bad assumption and "put her foot in her mouth" is it?... so soon, and have it known to everyone, that she had done so. She would likely never try again. No, she had to be cautious, be certain; yet she had no idea at this point how she would recognize anything but the crudest attempts to approach her that way.

She realized half of those statistically odd statements by men were probably them simply relaxing around her and stepping up with more generally friendly banter -- nothing in particular. Coming from the reticent Tony too, that seemed to verify that hypothesis and make it theory.

She abruptly realized she was probably supposed to return the compliment. She gave a quick look at his clothes, then away when she started to notice his physique more than his clothes then stumbled over her thoughts for another reason when she realized she did not have any idea what the classifying name for his clothing was. "Your... clothes, look nice too."

He had to smother a smile at her delayed timing and awkward delivery. She was trying. Not sure if she had caught his amusement, he found a smile and gesture of genuine acceptance, and said, "Thank you," in much the same tone.

He guided her down to Cafeteria 1. He knew Maya did not know how the party had grown, from the typical low-key style of post-Breakaway birthday party. He suspected Annette had "let" word of the party get out, and see if it netted Maya more turnout than anyone expected. It had. Too everyone's delight, about thirty were expected, not enough to fill the chosen cafeteria, but still a surprising turnout. Maya had apparently charmed more people than anyone had realized.

Maya looked increasingly puzzled as they went along. "Where are we going?"

Via commlock, he opened the door to Cafeteria 1. People were chatting. There were no shouts of "surprise" -- maybe that would come another year. In fact, by arrangement, no one reacted much at first.

"Where is the event?" Maya asked.

"Right here," Tony said.

"How many other people are having a birthday?"

That elicited a few friendly laughs from those within earshot.

"Zero," he said, purposefully affecting a precise, terse, mathematical wording, but pointing to the banner at the front of the room.

It was old-style "ASCII art" printout, as June had called it. It read simply:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MAYA!

Birthday decorations on Alpha were very modest, but Maya seemed to like it, her eyes widening slightly. "All of these people are here for my birthday?!" she asked, looking around, bewildered, at the number of people there, looking at her, smiling. She scarcely even noticed Bill snap a picture of her.

"Sure. It was supposed to be low-key, but word kind of got out."

She looked very unsure of all of it, perhaps at being the focus of so many pairs of eyes at once. It was just as well the party as a whole was not a surprise, he thought. She looked half-frozen as it was.

"Come on, let's get you to the guest of honor table," he said, gently hooking his arm around hers, afraid she might bolt if he gave her the chance. Everyone started clapping. He felt her tense, probably from not having heard clapping before, or so much of it. "It's okay," he said quietly. "It's a positive gesture." He brought her to the table where John, Helena, Bill, Annette, and Joan were already seated, and decided to be a gentleman about seating her, and she accepted the gesture smoothly, making him wonder if she knew it from somewhere.

She said a few words about how surprised and happy she was, but other than gratitude, quickly ran out of things to say; but others stepped up and engaged her in conversation about birthday parties, dances, and other events, and she seemed to soak it all in, even offering an occasional observation about such on Psychon, including an observation about the importance of sharing many meals together.

The last startled him, of hearing a very Italian sensibility offered out of the blue -- the black of space -- by a rather reserved Psychon, an alien. He had never mentioned anything like that to her, and she had not offered it before, that he recalled. Yet in some ways, she had. She had always seemed a little happier and more animated while sharing a meal. Maybe she had said some things which had indicated it but he had not been listening carefully. He had been so busy looking for suspicious signs from her that he had probably missed some positive signs.

This occasion was not to be a full meal, however, but there were snacks all about, and Maya quietly took a little as well. There was even champagne, sort of.

"Sham'pain?" Maya had asked after someone verbally identified it. "False pain?"

"If you drink too much, maybe not so false the next morning," Tony joked.

It was usually dubbed pseudo-champagne, the only drinking alcohol officially -- and infrequently -- on Alpha, even pre-Breakaway. It had been an ILC allowance for marking special occasions and a way of discouraging too much interest in shine or hauling bottles of alcohol from Earth. The fact it hadn't entirely worked was apparently expected and tolerated, more in a 'turn a blind eye as long as it didn't get out of hand' manner. That had continued post-Breakaway, with a few bottles made now and then for the usually somewhat small weddings more than the even smaller birthday parties.

Everyone had a single glass to sip from. Maya had initially categorized it as a "curious-tasting soft drink, but good," before it was explained further -- followed soon after by an explanation of a toast, which she quickly learned had nothing to do with heated bread.

"To Maya, on her Alphan birthday!" was the first one she heard.

Bill had gotten up, to take a picture, a nice one, he thought, but with hopefully more to come. He then grabbed his glass and made the toasting motion to her, which she returned, before he started moving about, taking pictures all over the room, including sometimes back at the main table. Maya looked a little self-conscious, almost like she could not understand why someone would want to take pictures with her in them. Bill found that rather sad. It was also interfering with his goal, for though he had gotten a couple of her smiling some, good in their own right, maybe enough for one to give her, he wanted a great picture.

Tony noticed Bill taking pictures, and said, "Smile, Maya."

All Tony and Bill got was a quirky, off-kilter half-smile. A couple other attempts over the next five minutes had the same result, like she had not the faintest idea why she should smile on command. "Say cheese," he said, thinking maybe something nonsensical to her would bring out a laugh, but all he got was a bewildered look. Not sure what to do for the moment, Bill wandered back into the crowd, taking pictures of everyone else as well, happy again for Maya that so many had wanted to attend -- and for Annie for the same yet different reason.

"So how old are you, Maya?" a male voice yelled in jest from the crowd.

Maya looked ready to answer the question, but Helena promptly jumped in and said, "That is a highly improper question to ask any lady."

There were laughs from the crowd, and a surprised look from Maya.

This time Alan, seated with others, yelled, "Awhhh, Helena, just who are the thirty of us going to tell?"

Suddenly, everyone was laughing -- including Maya. Fortunately, Bill caught it. Everyone at that table had looked at Alan, who was at virtually the same angle as Bill from the table. He smiled, essentially certain he had gotten the shot. It was, after all, the initial seed for the party, which had all started because dear Annie wanted Maya to have a proper first picture of her social life on Alpha.

Bill filtered back into the crowd, taking lots of pictures of everyone. There were a lot of happy faces, and eventually when he got them all, he stopped taking pictures and sat down, soaking in the first larger party in some time. He couldn't rest long, for the birthday presents were then brought out.

Maya was again surprised, and he got a couple more pictures of her smiling as she proceeded to open them, finding books, a couple more annual plants, some casual clothes, and a few other things. Most of the gifts were gently used, or available on Alpha from before Breakaway but not really used. Gift giving, while never dead after Breakaway, was making a slow resurgence, and on an Alpha of limited means, this form of gift giving was quite acceptable and welcome. Original creations, though, were starting to appear more frequently, and Maya soon found this out too.

As the second-last box was handed to her, Janina explained, "We wanted to give you gifts from what we already have; but this one is a little different, because it was specially made, just for you." Inside was a cute outfit made of a yellowish canvas-like fabric, which she really seemed to like.

The final gift, however, did not have to be explained as being made specifically for Maya....

Maya could not believe the generosity of these people. They had not only spared Maya her life after they could have simply left her to die with her father and Psychon, but had already been welcoming her into their lives, when they could have simply given her quarters, maybe a lab, some food, and had her working. The latter would have been a life, and would have had purpose, but have been lonely. Instead, they were welcoming her into their lives little by little, far more than she had expected, not just by increasing numbers of them being friendly towards her, but actually seeking out her friendship, which she had found remarkable. It warmed her heart. This party was an utter surprise. She had expected her friends, and had gotten several times more than that.

Though she knew there were many who did not trust her or simply did not care to be around her much, she now found she had underestimated the number of friends she had. Even Leann, who she had only met less than a week ago but was proving quite friendly, was here. Maybe Maya had been too cautious in her approach, or in the way she thought about friendship on Alpha. She had had her father, and no friends, for so long, she realized much of her social skills had faded somewhat, and having to interpret aliens was sometimes difficult. Her cautious approach, among people she was only just starting to understand more, had probably meant she had missed a lot of signs. This birthday party was a huge sign that even Maya could not miss, and she realized she would have to rethink some things. She smiled a little more when she realized this was another of the 'gifts' of this party to her.

There was one more box to open. It was more flat, and more reinforced. It took a little more work to get through. It seemed to be something needing protection, and accordingly, she was careful.

When she finally saw it, she gasped. Maya had scarcely thought about Annette's offer or the quick sketching session a few weeks ago. Maya had thought it a very generous gesture, but had underestimated how much Annette wanted to do it -- and to get it right. Her mother Taylia was captured and interpreted so incredibly well, by someone who had never seen her -- the real her rather than a mere metamorphic memory of her. The face in the artistic image stared out at Maya with a serene look of love, and a slight smile, expressions Maya/Taylia had obviously not presented to Annette, so the artist had done some interpretation -- extremely well, because it looked so much like the very expressions Taylia had graced Maya with in childhood.

"Ohh," she finally half-choked out, tears in her eyes. "Beautiful," she whispered. She turned to Annette, and repeated it, louder, adding a hug and, "Thank you so much."

"What is it?" Alan shouted from the crowd.

Maya turned to the crowd, then turned the picture, and said, "Taylia, my mother. She passed away when I was about half my current age. Annette made a beautiful painting."

There were a lot of smiles, until Maya could no longer resist wanting to see it again herself. For almost a minute, she just stared at it, already recalling her own memories of her mother.

Eventually, out came some large, flat pastry. This did have cursive writing to interpret -- easily enough. "Happy Birthday, Maya!" it also stated.

"We made sure it was sweet but not too sweet," Annette commented. Some people already knew she found most Alphan desserts too rich, and had obviously made the effort to let someone know. Indeed, once it was cut up and everyone present had a piece, she tried hers and found it was indeed a 'light' dessert, and very tasty.

"Mmm," Janina commented, "they should make these more often."

Maya ate her piece of cake slowly, savoring it and the thought behind it and all the rest, while most others finished it faster. More people started moving about the room, socializing with others. Janina stood up, leaving an empty seat next to Tony. The Commander got up as well. She watched the dynamics with curiosity. She realized she probably should as well, to thank them or something; but for some reason she did not understand, that seemed an awkward idea, and decided to just finish her cake first.

Someone abruptly yelled "Speech!" from the crowd, in a clearly jesting voice that got laughter from a few others.

Maya froze, knowing that meant her, and not entirely picking up on the jest. What could she say about how wonderful this gathering made her feel? And standing up in front of thirty people--?

Tony spotted her expression, and immediately shouted, with a broad smile, "Oh no you don't, she doesn't have to do that here, and you know it!"

The crowd laughed again, but Maya flashed a smile of gratitude at Tony. He had protected her as she adapted, even through his distrust, yet had started to trust her from himself. She had not missed the change, nor how he continued to look out for her, while there was still so much to learn.

He smiled back briefly, but then another comment from the crowd drew his attention away.

She found herself feeling at total ease for the first time on Alpha, almost at peace for the moment, and thought of how it was all due to people who had wanted to be her close friends, to give her a chance. She knew it was the moment, the event, that there was so much else to work on; but she was intensely grateful for the moment itself, and the greater hope it represented for her, hope among these people.

The Commander had been supportive, Helena like a sister Maya never had, Alan sometimes reminding her of her older brother. Yet they and others were her friends.

Tony was a friend too, yet reminded her.... She found herself puzzled, knowing Tony had a place in her heart too but not knowing how to describe him, not really knowing how she felt about him, yet today, wondering if maybe she really did know and was only now starting to admit it to herself, thoughts bubbling to the surface like the carbon dioxide in the champagne.

She had found herself on a base of three hundred people, about half of them men, and the majority of them unmarried, it seemed. It had been no small jolt when she found herself wanting to let herself be drawn to them. She had not had any males her approximate age to flirt with since she was an adolescent girl, and had soon found this new situation rather surprising. She had found Alphans attractive, from the beginning, but was assuming that since they all had plenty of choices among the human females on the base.... It seemed an awful way to think. They seemed totally accepting of their own differences, and the Commander and Doctor had talked to her as if a relationship could easily come about at some point. Yet Maya was one of the stranger-looking humanoids they had run across, she figured, and she did not want to hope for too much, when they had already given her far more than she had expected.

Now, with the spirits of the party getting into her heart, part of her did want to start hoping for more, but still not knowing if any sort of romantic interest from any of them was possible.

Tony had been -- had become -- very generous to her, and for a moment, she found herself looking at him as he laughed at another joke from another table. Maya was happy and contented that she had him as he now was, yet wanting more, and sad that she did not know what, if anything, to do about it.

She caught herself after a fraction of a second, turning away, realizing her thoughts were getting out of hand, and threatening to spoil the mood of the wonderful party. In a moment, she swept the thoughts to the side, thinking maybe the party had gotten to her too much, and put silly ideas in her head.

The din of conversation became louder, and Maya started having a little trouble understanding when someone talked to her. Some people started stopping by to talk to Maya, and she started growing a little shy, partly unsure of what to say, and partially from having trouble sorting out the multiple threads of conversation in an alien language. She'd probably get used to it soon, but this was the largest and loudest crowd in almost half her life.

At some point, Maya noticed Leann had sat next to Tony and they were carrying on an animated conversation, Leann occasionally touching Tony. The Alphans liked to do that, and had even done so to her, which she welcomed; but so far, she'd been reticent to do so, afraid it would be unwelcome in some way, or subject to misinterpretation. Leann laughed, freely, something else Maya had been afraid of. She realized with a start that her laugh at Alan's joke had been the most she had done that on Alpha. Leann laughed again, and Maya wondered if Leann was flirting with Tony. Not that Maya could blame the human woman. If Maya found him attractive, surely human females did. Then again, maybe it didn't work that way. She had no idea what human perceptions of attractiveness were.

She was about to quietly take the last sips of her champagne; but abruptly, she had a thought -- a different one to take her away from the unexpected variety of her musings. The champagne had meaning to the Alphans, as the sign of a special occasion. She had participated in a couple of toasts, and she suddenly felt like she needed to give the last one, especially after... everything. She wasn't sure what the norms were, but she wanted to do so anyway. She glanced around. Everyone at her table had a little champagne left -- almost as if they had left open the chance she might work up the courage.

Just then, Leann left the table, and Janina was returning. Tony caught Maya looking about, and she looked at him and said, "Thank you, but I really think I must say something." She stood up, and quietly said, "Please excuse me." The crowd quieted quickly, perhaps more surprised that she had spoken up, than anything else. "I have never done this before, so please pardon any mistakes in form."

Everyone looked at her calmly and expectantly, some smiling a little. She found thirty pairs of eyes looking at her. She had not spoken to even half that many people at once, not even that many in a classroom when she was but a girl. Maya almost lost all of her nerve on the spot. Yet she marshaled the courage, and finally started speaking.

"Four weeks ago, the only gift I would have hoped for is to have been welcome here by at least some of you, and that I would be treated kindly, and get a chance at a second life. As it turned out, you are all so much more of a gift a lone alien could have even hoped for my first day here. You gave me so much more than I expected, and your presence today, and your presents too." The words were starting to tumble out oddly, so.... "So..." she paused, not having thought this all the way through to the toast itself, but improvising. "I would like to... make a toast to... all of us, as friends."

The others at her table promptly stood up and started toasting her and everyone else, and lots of repeats of "friends" sounded about the small but more than half-filled cafeteria.

She drank the last of her champagne, and sighed, relieved yet happy.

The party started to wind down after that point. Maya tried to help clean up but was promptly told by Annette that Maya's "only 'work' was to open gifts, drink champagne, eat cake, talk with people, and have fun." Tony borrowed a kitchen cart to take Maya's gifts back to quarters, but Maya lifted the box containing the painting of her mother, obviously wanting to carry it herself.

John and Helena took their leave of Maya, together. They found themselves in his quarters, talking, and together came to a surprising realization that there was some further significance to this social gathering. Excluding the distorted bash while in orbit of Piri, this party had been a first. After a year of low-key social gatherings, small and often impromptu musical presentations, private birthday parties, some relatively quiet weddings, and the haunting, thoughtful anniversary of Breakaway, this event had been something different.

"We have all been so professional, so stoic all the time," Helena commented. "So distant from each other in some ways. A year of quiet morning, as you said."

"Interesting it took an outsider, not knowing about birthday celebrations on Earth, for someone -- and so many -- to wake up and realize we need to both remember and to celebrate, and... I don't know."

"Be human? No, that isn't what I meant," Helena quickly reversed. Everything they had done before was human too, but some of it was like a dirge, and even the happy occasions were so muted, so tempered, as if they were merely eeking out some normality in a sea of black entropy. That was now part of Alphan coping, and there was no way around the fact of their still-harsh existence. Yet from Annette had come another viable option they had practically forgotten about: a good, rousing, fairly crowded birthday party.

"No," John said, "but more complete humans, or at least somewhat more whole again. Not that easy. We have a lot to mourn, but we do have things we out to be celebrating more widely, considering it is somewhat surprising we are even alive at this point."

"Yes," Helena said quietly, while John stood up and walked over to punch up a wide-angle view of the base and the looming Alkinarda Veil.

"I just hope this thing will let us," he said.

That, unfortunately, was more the John Koenig she had come to expect too, but she found herself continually finding more to like about him. More than just his gruffness, his bouts of high-strung tension. A more thoughtful, quiet side that had been present too, that he was sharing a lot with her. Thoughts that he had shared the most with his fast friend Victor, he was now sharing more frequently with Helena, allowing her to see there was even more than he had ever let her see before. Yes, more to like....

R-374 DAB 1840-1855: Wistful Thinking?

Bill started going through his photos with Annette. It wasn't long before they ran across the pictures of Maya with quirky, puzzled half-smiles on her face.

"She doesn't really smile on command, does she?" Annette commented.

"No, you were right about needing to give her a more genuine event. My initial thought wasn't so great for anyone, but wouldn't have worked at all for her."

"What's this puzzled look."

"Say cheese."

"What?"

"That's what I got back when I said to 'say cheese.'"

"Bill, why would a Psychon laugh at that?"

"I thought she would find it silly and laugh at it."

"No, silly, she either just gives a puzzled look or asks for a definition."

"True."

"She either doesn't want to be seen as laughing at us, or is just genuinely baffled by us sometimes."

"Sometimes? We baffle each other."

"And laugh at ourselves. I think Maya has a sense of humour in her somewhere, but it may take something for her to feel free to express it, maybe."

They resumed looking through the pictures.

"Good one of Patrick and Michelle."

"Thanks."

A few more pictures later....

"Oh, Bill, that is perfect! I really hoped you had gotten that laugh, and you got that and all of us around her so well."

"Yeah, I'm glad it turned out."

"Turned out?" She leaned over and gave him a kiss. "It was better than I could have hoped. You're good."

Bill blushed a bit, but was smiling. "Thank you, but it was a little bit of luck and Alan's joke too, you know."

They checked a couple more pictures around it, but it was the first, in that first moment of laughter, that was the best, and they returned to it frequently, Annette finally saying, "That is the one we expand, frame, and give to Maya."

"Agreed."

They worked their way through many pictures of many Alphans.

"I have never seen this many people genuinely having fun at once since Breakaway," Annette said.

"Honey, you had a perfect idea, and it looks like a lot of people were just waiting to let loose, especially after Breakaway Commemorations."

Now it was Annette's turn to blush, and Bill leaned over to give her a kiss.

When they resumed paging through pictures, it was only a brief time before they ran across one in particular....

Bill paused a brief moment, went "hmph," and moved on.

"Wait, wait, what was that? Go back."

"She looks pretty happy about the party."

"Yes, but can't you see it?" Annette asked.

"What?"

"The way she's looking at Tony. Happy, contented, yes. Maybe he just said something nice to her. When was this?"

"Not really sure," Bill stated.

She resumed her point. "Yet there is more. She looks happy yet... almost a little sad, like, uh.... She looks wistful, like she's suddenly thinking maybe she likes Tony even more than she thought, but...."

"She likes him?" Bill asks.

"Maybe... but more like she likes him but.... Let's check the video Clive lent us."

They put the small memory square into the computer system. They wanted to see the whole thing end to end, yet Annette was too curious to identify the expression on Maya's face, so they fast-forwarded it.

"Tony blocked the calls for a speech from Maya," Bill recalled.

"She spends a lot of time looking happy but at no one in particular. Wait, go back."

They had to freeze-frame and step through to even find it, but for a few frames, Maya put her head on her hand and looked at Tony, not with open interest, but with a look....

"Like the champagne got to her and a thought of something more crosses her mind." Bill kept stepping through the frames. "But she dismissed it out of hand."

"Very promptly," Annette said. "Either she was already starting to dismiss it, or she thinks fast."

"Or it's nothing. She puts out some expressions I can't really read sometimes. Besides, Tony has not exactly been the most trusting of her. I heard from someone in Command Center the day she arrived that he nearly shot her on sight, and everyone knows he's been both nice to her and suspicious about her, almost at the same time."

"True. Maybe she's just content that he's letting the negativity go, and sad it isn't completely gone."

F-375 DAB 0810-0940: Milestones

Tony was happy -- mostly.

A few days ago, he had introduced Maya to the last four Alphans who had not directly met her, one of the survey teams, returning from a month-long mission.

Sanderson's team was supposed to have replaced the returning team, but Sanderson's suspension had left his team on Alpha, and it had been simpler to cycle in another whole team than try replacing Sanderson. They had fast become the best team under his leadership even before Breakaway, and afterward had continued finding deposits of even more-needed minerals in their extended surveys. His Security role had been only part time even when Sanderson was back on base, the other part being filled with coordinating further analysis on whatever finds they had made in the field, and preparing for the next survey by looking for a new path. The Security Officer had no longer wanted Sanderson in his Section, and the latter's new part-time job was various odd, mostly non-technical maintenance jobs that did not depend on having any security status. So another team went out in place of Sanderson's, and the returning team finally met Maya.

What distance had not helped with, time had helped. They had been exploring through the Psychon encounter. They were aware of this event and Maya's arrival on Alpha through video and data uplinks via the orbital satellites, of recorded announcements and other data exchanges. By the time they returned to Alpha itself, the other Alphans had met her, and weeks had gone by, enough that frayed nerves over Mentor and the new resident had calmed to lesser or greater degrees. Apparently some good words had been put in on her behalf. The meeting, in the Reception area, was emblematic of the whole process and the improvement: only one slightly chilly greeting met Maya; two were more welcoming; and one man gave her a very friendly greeting and said, "We've heard about you, and have seen the recording of the Commander's announcement, and I am very happy to meet you."

Now, afterwards, with Maya finishing another session, and Tony in his Security Center office and having checked his electronic posts and some other basics at the start of the day, he went over a list of names. Though he still knew of a number of people uneasy about Maya or still not that welcoming personally or professionally, there were only a few he felt he had to keep an eye on, including Stewart. The only truly serious concern he had was over Sanderson. However, even Sanderson seemed more angry at himself over the incident, and had supposedly calmed a lot regarding Maya herself. Oddly, the thing he seemed to care the least about was her transformational ability.

That did not mean Maya's safety was certain. There could still be trouble with him or anyone else, but despite his misgivings, there were other cases where people had verbal or even physical incidents but where a protective escort was simply not necessary.

Furthermore, with a basic exercise program now established and a little strength added to Maya, Tony had just now started teaching her a little bit of martial arts, and she was showing some promise -- in fact more than a little. Finally, she had proven that if driven far enough, she would be willing to engage her unique form of self-defence.

Keeping her in constant care of Security, besides being a constant drain of that Section's time, would, at some point, amount to holding her back, not just in simple efficiency of day to day activities, but professionally and socially. Having her protected all the time implied there were still major problems. Even Maya seemed to be getting subtly restive about it. While even Tony could see she was more comfortable in the presence of him or someone from Security, it was not hard to see she had a streak of independence and was starting to feel conflicted.

He also found it quite curious how well he was starting to read her more subtle or mixed reactions. He was adapting to her body language and her to theirs, it seemed. He still found it interesting to interpret, as much as he could, the motions her hands sometimes made, unconsciously. She was expressive, and he had long noticed that even when trying to hide some of her reactions from her face, it sometimes appeared in her hands -- not always as easy to interpret as her face. He wondered if that was a Psychon thing or just a Maya thing.

During the regularly-scheduled Commander / First Officer meeting, which was at 09:00 today, in the Commander's lower-level office, the topic of Maya's security was soon brought up. It did not take long for both to find out they had about the same opinion: it was time to disengage the guarding. The officers could still continue walking with her at times, especially at first if she seemed to want to ease through the change.

Though early in their days, it was getting late in Maya's. She was out of her final session of the day, and was going to settle in for a snack. John called her. "I know it is late, but can you and Tony and I meet?"

"Of course, Commander. Please give me a few minutes."

"Good. Tony will head to your quarters."

Maya wondered what this was about. Usually, they had been careful about her schedule, almost more than they needed to be, though she appreciated it as well. So she did not mind the interruption at all, though she had just changed out of uniform and now had to change back. It was tempting to try just a partial, clothes-only transformation, but that was tricky and she could only hold it for a few minutes at a time before reverting to whatever she was actually wearing. In this case, it would be pajamas. It had not been a serious thought, so within a few minutes, she was changed and with her hair up again -- just in time for Tony's arrival.

Tony seemed pleased about something, but said nothing as they walked to the Commander's office, near Command Center. The Commander also seemed pleased about something, but in a subtler way. She wasn't sure exactly how. Her curiosity was too much for her, and after greetings and some awkward small'talk, she asked, "Commander?"

"Have you realized you have reached two milestones in the last twenty-four hours?"

"What kind of rocks?"

"Milestones: major events in time."

"Oh, no, I did not. What milestones?"

"Your first month on Alpha, and that you've now personally met every adult Alphan."

She was quite surprised, on both counts. Had it been a month? Yes, it had. She hadn't even counted the number of Alphans she had met. "No, I did not. I hope it has been good."

"Well, it has," the Commander said, "but I hope you think it has been good, at least in some ways."

"Oh, yes, I am grateful so many of your people have been kind, and especially ones being friends, too."

"Do you feel more comfortable about your safety now?"

"Well, other than...." She trailed off, immediately regretting starting on a negative.

"Sanderson. Go ahead, just speak your mind."

"Other than Sanderson, most have given me at least polite meetings, some even more than that."

"What about the less polite greetings?"

"I understand."

"No, do you feel threatened by that?"

"No, not really, though I still feel nervous sometimes. Some have become more polite. It is the stares I don't understand, but there is less of that too." She suddenly had a feeling where this was going, and decided to short circuit some of the main'talk background. "Are you asking if I would feel safe by myself in the hallways?"

At first, it did not seem like either man wanted to confirm or deny her hypothesis. Finally, the Commander affirmed, saying, "Yes, please just be direct -- and detailed if you want."

She thought for a moment, having mixed feelings, but with one conclusion coming to the foreground. She had been thinking for some time, and now.... "I do want that. I mean I appreciate the company and the attention to my safety. Thank you, Tony." She abruptly added the last with a smile.

He looked a bit surprised by that, but then nodded, finally adding, "You're welcome."

"I want to do that, and I am ready, and do not think I will fear attack at any moment." She decided to take the Commander's request to be direct and detailed, and trust that he would not be offended: "If I do feel... threatened in some way?"

"Defend yourself, just as you did with Sanderson, or with anything you're learning in the gym."

"You do not need permission to defend yourself," Tony said, and even Maya noticed the Commander's slight look of pleased surprise. Maya had noticed subtle if inconsistent changes in Tony's attitude lately. She still did not feel he was feeling full trust in her, but she welcomed all the small improvements, and despite everything, she still liked him.

"Also, short of feeling physically threatened, if you feel hassled in some way, be sure to tell Tony."

"Okay."

"What about the pan-mash protocol?" Tony asked.

"Perfect; explain."

"There is a setting Computer can activate in your commlock such that if you press your hand against several buttons at once, it triggers a quiet security alert. You can make it a somewhat subtler motion, and intervention could cut short any escalation. It is intentionally a not well-known protocol, called pan-mash after 'panic: mash hand on commlock.' It can cause some false alarms from accidental triggering, but let's activate it for awhile and see how it goes."

She didn't mean to, but released a bit more breath in relief: it was another helpful aspect of commlock use. She didn't want to have to physically defend herself, and if words of attempted reconciliation or warning failed, having another means before something physical, especially metamorphic, would be good. She nodded, and then heeding the earlier words, said, "That eliminates much of my remaining unease."

"And the rest?" the Commander asked.

"Time with no incidents."

"Of course."

Tony, meanwhile, activated the protocol, had her test it. After a few more minutes, the conversation wound down.

"Okay, then, Maya, you're dismissed."

"Yes, Commander," she said as lightly as she could.

She left, then, as calmly as she could, and walked down the hallways towards the lift. She got a curious mix of surprised looks and simple nods or passingreetings, like the first was not used to seeing her alone and the second were simply expecting it would happen sometime or simply took no real notice of the change. Still, she felt herself shying a bit about some people she knew were still somewhat chilly about her, quietly nodding but quickly keeping her eyes to herself, knowing that her stare could be as unnerving to them as theirs to her.

When she reached the lift, she was somewhat relieved to have it to herself -- for all of one floor. When it opened up, she got a surprised look from someone, who stepped in but said little, leaving uncomfortable silence. He had never concerned her, but her paltry Alphan small'talk skills failed her.

After Maya left the lift, she crossed another hallway to the travel tube, and to her delight, met Janina there. In this case, her small'talk was enough to help her. Janina went with Maya in the travel tube, and did not even mention her walking alone right away, until they were back in the hall on the way to Maya's quarters, when Janina said, "It's nice to see you walking around without a guard or officer."

Maya smiled, and said, "It is a good step."

Janina laughed, and said, "Good pun."

"Pun?"

Janina explained, and when they reached Maya's quarters, Maya took a chance and extended a welcome inside, which Janina accepted so quickly that Maya hypothesized that it had scarcely been a 'chance' -- at least not in the muddled sense Maya had about it. Janina was, after all, her friend now, like Helena was. It had been so long since she had friends of her own, she felt both awkward and uncertain yet a little child-like delight about it too.

Even better, Maya had been accumulating some food supplies, and despite starting to feel a little tired, asked, "Have you had breakfast yet?"

"No, I was just on my way."

"I think I understand pan'cakes -- I mean pancakes -- now. If you don't mind my trying on your time and perhaps patience."

"Not at all."

Though Maya was fond of pouring small amounts of soft drink and other selections on top of her pancakes, she tried to recall more Alphanorm toppings, then remembering one she liked too.... "Do you like strawberries and lactose whipped pseudohalf?" Maya asked earnestly.

"Well, I love strawberries, but I sure hope the latter meant whipped cream," Janina said with a smile and small laugh.

"Ah, yes, whipped cream was one phrase he used."

"Yes, whipped cream would be good too. Lactose whipped what?"

"Pseudohalf. I had some whipped cream once, then when I saw it again I asked a cook what it was, and he explained, then asked if I wanted some, and gave me some supply in an unmarked container. I wasn't sure what part of what he said was name and what was explanation, and must have mixed it up."

"I can understand that, including the 'pseudo' part, but when did he mention 'half'?"

"I'm not sure. Something about 'half and half' that I guess I did not understand."

"I think he was comparing different things. Oh, and just a suggestion, but you may want to avoid using the word 'pseudo' regarding some of the food around here, at least for awhile. We sometimes joke about it, but sometimes don't want to be reminded either. You didn't offend, you just don't quite have the knack of it yet."

"Okay, thank you."

Maya quickly recalculated the portion for what seemed, in her observation, to be an average human female's breakfast portion, and a snack-sized amount for herself, and proceeded to prepare it.

Janina was bemused, yet admired how well Maya was doing. If Janina had been thrown in with three hundred aliens, would she be handling things as well as Maya?

"So you like pancakes with strawberries?" Janina asked.

"Yes. Or sometimes with curry."

"Curry powder?"

"Yes."

Janina almost laughed, despite herself. It seemed Maya had no idea of the admittedly sometimes fuzzy divisions among different cultural cuisines. She probably just saw it all as Alphan. Psychon had provinces, and maybe they had some differences too, and Maya just hadn't caught up yet. Janina almost started explaining, then remembered Maya's penchant for something she called bread salad.

"Or pouring some soft drink on top of pancakes," the Psychon added to her previously started list.

Either Maya didn't really understand human recipes yet, or she just liked being creative with combinations.... "Too bad you didn't get to try real maple syrup. Did you have variety on Psychon?"

"During childhood, positively. During most of adolescence and adulthood, not really: mostly food'bars, salads, and some fruit."

Poor girl is starving for new flavours. She almost asked 'I mean before?' but held it, knowing that if Psychon did have at least some provincial differences in cuisine, the sharp lady would probably start extrapolating that maybe Earth did too, and dampen Maya's experimenting. Let her try combining various things. Why burden her with lots of divisions which Alpha itself had further blurred as it was? In fact....

"Maybe you should post some of your favorite combinations in the Recipe board on the AIS."

"But these are not recipes, just random combinatoric actions. There is little logic on my part, and little differential preparation."

"Ah, creativity, and by the way, the board is called Random Recipes, so that would match well."

Maya gave Janina an odd look not easily interpreted.

"What?" Janina asked.

"Is that a joke?" Maya said with a slight smile.

"I suppose it is; but I'm still serious about the main point. How do you think a new recipe is invented?"

"Hmm, I think I see your point," Maya said as she ladled the mixture onto the hotplate.

That did not sound like acceptance of the main idea, however, like Maya doubted anyone would care about an alien making up odd combinations of human foods.

"Tell you what. Next time, you serve up your favorite variant of pancake. If I like it, you have to post it."

Maya gave Janina a very dubious look, her unusual eyebrows bunching up in a way that seemed completely familiar. "And if you don't like it?"

"I'll be honest, tell you that, and next time, you'll have to give me something else to try, pancakes or otherwise."

"Until you find something you will insist I post the combinatorial details as a recipe?"

Yep, sharp. "Why not?"

Silence, then: "I suppose I can emulate random."

Janina laughed, happy and relieved that Maya was going to take another chance, however small. "Was that a joke?" Janina asked.

"I suppose it was," Maya said with a smile.

"A little obscure, but funny. Good."

For some reason Maya smiling and joking seemed more natural to her that constant hyper-seriousness. She had suffered a lot, including with some thoughtless Alphan behavior, but Janina could tell that while some of the seriousness was surely innate, and some born of her tragic past, some seemed born out of over-cautious behavior among humans. It was good to see her taking more small steps out of her shell.

Jane would have liked Maya, Janina thought. Maybe after a little prodding, anyway, given Jane had been notably slow to warm to new people, getting comfortable around them while among her existing friends.

It had been that way between Jane and Greg too. Janina had not been so sure about that match, but while slow to warm to new people, Jane was very good at growing friendships or relationships on her own once established, even through problems. In Greg's case, it was even through the distance when he was away for a month at a time. She had been just the woman for him, in many ways. Greg had been the gentle, protective type, and the impatient tongue lashings he could sometimes give other people were simply absent with Jane, like he knew perfectly well he had a special woman. Janina's concerns had eased. He was not a smooth talker that would get the marriage and then turn abusive. He was much more ragged around the edges, his flaws out there for anyone to see.

Yet when he had lost Jane, it was clear that he had lost someone that was helping balance him more than anyone realized. Assaulting Maya seemed to show a complete break in personality, Janina thought. To Janina's complete regret, however, she had seen all the signs, all those rough edges of a new sort, in his constant railing against Psychons and constant surprise at how much freedom and activity Maya was being handed. He had not hid much then either, but Janina had missed its significance.

She suddenly felt a pang of guilt. If she had taken some action....

"Is something wrong?" Maya asked.

Janina debated internally for a few moments, but finally admitted her thoughts.

"It was not your fault," Maya said. "Not something you did." It was not unlike words Janina had used to soothe Maya on her arrival, regarding her own father. Suddenly, Janina realized how words such as these, though helpful, did not entirely eliminate the guilt Janina felt. She wondered how much Maya might still be feeling over her father.

Janina shied away from that, wanting Maya's words to stand as much as Janina's had much earlier -- and not wanting to re-open what might be slow healing wounds, at least not now, not unless Maya showed signs of wanting to.

With the same pattern followed as before, and pancakes needing flipping, however, it did not seem Maya wanted to talk about that. They were soon talking about food a little, while Janina looked around, eventually commenting, "You really need a laboratory."

"I did not mean to be so... messy."

"Messy? It's all pretty neat, but you have a lot of technical material packed into a small room."

Maya said nothing, apparently from reaching the point of being able to serve the pancakes. They were soon eating and onto new topics.

A-376 DAB 0525-0940: LQ12

A few days back, even before Maya's birthday and yesterday's milestones for her, John and Maya had agreed on early Saturday morning meal in a cafeteria, breakfast for him and lunch for her. At 05:25 on a Saturday morning, there diners as he waited for Maya, having arrived at 05:20 already, earlier than her usually early arrivals. She entered at 05:26, pausing at the door and looking around.

She seemed to be checking who was here, a prudent step for someone whose security situation, though vastly more stable then before, enough to let her move on her own, was still not perfect. She was being prudent, or nervous, or both -- yet looked about calmly, and even smiled slightly at someone. He glanced around at others, noticing she was garnering gazes, just as anyone entering a room might -- yet not just the same. Of course, the Commander was cognizant of the dampening effect his presence was probably had, of the observer changing the very thing he was observing. Still, what he saw from his fellow Earth people seemed much improved over the gazes she had been getting from some before, even when John had been present.

She smiled when she saw him too, and approached. There was no doubt this had returned strongly in her, of an easy-smiling nature, regardless of the nervousness and pain undoubtedly still haunting her. Again, he recalled her fear of being thrown out of an airlock over a misstep, and thought it was still remarkable how freely she smiled. Pop psychologists like to say that simply taking the action of smiling, out of the blue, could actually help induce the feeling emotionally. Though perhaps exaggerated, there was some truth to it, and maybe Maya's own insistence on avoiding outright shyness, and being open to meetings, had helped her own feelings. He didn't know.

"Good morning, Commander."

"Good morning, Maya."

"How are you doing?" she asked.

"Well."

He stood up to go through the line for food with her.

"I thought early Saturday mornings were very quiet for most Alphans. There are more people here than usual."

Not a bad small talk gambit from her, even if partially rooted in her own cautiousness. "It varies. Maybe not as many late evening parties last night. After all, there was a big party Wednesday night."

"Oh? Oh, you mean mine? I'm sure there are larger ones than mine."

They talked about that briefly, Maya surprised by the information, and seemingly a little flustered hers would have been the largest so far after Breakaway. He eventually assured her that he thought it was a sign she was making a positive impression, and others were also making her welcome, something he had wanted from the start.

It was time to get to some of those other important steps, however.

They talked quietly about her upcoming salvage survey mission for awhile, which was coming up soon, to one of the Graktor ships, similar to one that had taken an Eagle with Victor, Paul, Tanya, and David. He gave more tips. She asked more questions. She seemed nervous about it, but not so much that he would reconsider the wisdom of this experiment. Then again, reading an alien wasn't always so easy, and though Maya was generally fairly open and he had learned some of her body language when she wasn't, he still wondered a little. Tony was right, this was somewhat throwing her in the deep end, but as he had told his first officer, he wanted her involved as much as possible without overwhelming her. Though this could be close to the latter, he needed to gauge this unknown factor in her early on, if there was any real chance of making her an officer.

As that part of the conversation wound down, she shifted the topic, which was somewhat rare of her.

"Speaking of duty, I would like to make a request."

"Yes?"

"I am accumulating a lot of technical material and references to study and work on, and I am starting to run out of room. Others have advised me I ought to request a laboratory -- lab? -- of my own. I had thought it would be too much to ask for, but I have decided they are correct, and I can really use one, if there is something available."

He had considered this for awhile already, but was curious to wait, for a little bit anyway, to see if she would ask, regardless of whether or not others prodded her a little. This was another good sign. She had asked for virtually nothing for herself, and it was good to see her finally ask for something more significant than a daily food item allotment or such.

"Granted," he said simply. "I already know just the place, if you're ready."

Both had finished their food, so after busing their trays, John brought Maya to LQ12, Victor's former living quarters, which had also doubled as a lab in many ways, the one he frequented the most.

No one lived on this level anymore, and Victor's bed and wardrobe had been removed, and most of his personal effects distributed about or stored. John had Victor's unfinished Saturn rocket model. One of the "Atonal Alphans" -- its organizer, Jack Bartlett, actually -- had respectfully requested Victor's violin to be used by as many who might wish to play it. John wasn't sure to where the vivarium had gone. Almost all of the art on the walls had remained, on purpose. The room had been repurposed into a general lab awhile back. He thought Victor would have agreed. However, it had not been specifically assigned until now.

He explained some of this, including that it had been Victor's living quarters. She seemed rather uncomfortable with the idea of taking this particular place as her lab now.

"Maya, I'm quite certain Victor would have approved."

She said nothing, but her expression lightened somewhat, and indeed, she was soon exploring and asking questions. He answered what he could, but deferred other questions for when van der Mir or another Technical Section person could stop by and discuss them.

"Some of this material is research, however. Victor was very inventive, designing or aiding on design of several key technologies used on Alpha, including the main force field, sometimes called the Bergman Shield, as well as other technologies.

Maya was a little surprised to learn that the elder scientist had designed the primary Alphan force field. He must have been much younger then, or that the Commander was simply referring to a newer generation of that shield, a step up significant enough to bear his name. The latter, Maya found unusual. It would have been like calling Psyche "Mentor's--" she quickly strayed from that thought to a few other examples, all of which sounded strange to her. Yet she found herself accepting this was a Terran form of honoring an inventor.

"What are these?" Maya asked of several spheres containing electronics, which had her thinking briefly of the 'Ball' kit in her childhood gift.

"Some of them are for control equipment best kept in neutral atmospheres or vacuums, and are like some others used elsewhere on base. Some of them, though, I really don't know. I asked him once about one of them, and he only smiled and said they were 'toys which might eventually work.'"

"Toys? They seem to have purpose -- or at least some intended purpose even if experimental."

"Well, I'll ask Carl.... Actually, why don't you ask Carl to stop by some time and explain what he knows. On the rest, let me know if you ever find notes on them or otherwise figure them out."

She surpressed her surprise and simply said, "I will."

"Also, determine what you want moved from your quarters to here. When ready, call Sandra so she can assign someone to do so."

"Thank you."

Maya found herself alone in a room with yet more new technology, but she did not explore it at first, finding herself a troubled by the comparison her mind suddenly made between Mentor's almost unquestioned experimentation, and now Victor's. Psychon's scientists certainly had leeway, but voracious curiosity about all things scientific created a curious balance of extensive research yet scientists being subjected to curiosity questions that were hard to escape.

Maybe the same was true here, but the Commander's casual attitude to the 'toys' had her wondering now.

Mentor had been corrupted, while Victor was much beloved and as far as she knew had nothing but the highest regard for life, even to the point the Commander insisted Victor would have liked to meet Maya as well.

Where had Mentor gone wrong? Did her own inability to serve well as a check on her father contribute? Had Victor's well-liked nature assured he kept on a moral course, or was he intrinsically a more moral person? Could Maya herself steer a more moral course and stay away from such dangers? The thoughts swirled for awhile, and for the first time, she started confronting some of them instead of flying away.

After some troubled debate that did not really clear anything, at least not right now, she did come to one conclusion at least. She had already realized earlier, regarding her multiscanner idea, that she needed to talk to the Commander first. Now, there was a Science Board as well. She resolved that she would always keep someone apprised of anything more than simple tinkering. If she was inventing something truly new to them, she had to talk about it with them. If it were based on a conversation directly with the Commander or an officer -- someone with higher authority than the Science Board -- she'd talk directly with that person. If it were more general brain'storming on her part, she would bring it to the Science Board. Maybe she would never become like her father regardless, and her conditions were now so totally different anyway; but she was determined she would do what she could to further ensure that.

Finally, satisfied she could draw in some measure of safety to protect her own principals and the safety of others, she relaxed, and started exploring more in the room. She adopted Carl's idea of trying to deduce devices' functions with minimal information, in case there were other thoughts. Carl had revealed this to her after she had finally asked in a moment of exasperation. Far from being offended, he had explained, and reassured her it was fine for her to have asked: "Actually, students usually do demand explanations after awhile, usually relax again after knowing, and start offering ideas again. I don't know if it changes things or not, but the idea still seems to work afterwards, like once I got it going, it became a habit for the other person."

She found boxes full of papers. Some were printed by computer, some were handwritten, the latter not always readable to her, at least for the moment. She decided to take a more thorough study later.

Still, when she looked around, she felt again like she was invading someone's space. People on Psychon moved out of homes and into someone else's former home at times, of course; but this felt different, both for obvious reasons and subtle reasons she wasn't sure of.

She could imagine this room probably had a lot of visitors before -- good memories for them, over the Professor. What would most of them think now, with her here instead? Not that she could do much about it, probably, other than hope the discomfort would fade.

Despite it already being after her nap was to start, she stayed, spending the next few hours, with scarcely a break, studying what was in the room and debating about what to bring here and what to keep in her room. Some devices, including a microscope, were redundant, so she decided in those cases to keep what she had in her room already, to allow easy accessibility in two locations.

Finally, fatigue was starting to catch up with her, and with her still having two whole day'parts remaining to her week'end -- weekend -- she decided to return to her quarters and study further when she could be more efficient. She again walked the halls, this time finding more people about on a Saturday mid-morning than a Friday after first'shift had started.

She again felt nervous, and again received mixed reactions, but nothing that concerned her too much. She soon found some distraction from her nervousness when she noticed Giles walk by with a curt but not unfriendly greeting, and she abruptly thought of some of the other guards, the ones who had helped her in her first month. She had already thanked Tony for seeing to her safety, and decided to send an electronic post to the other Security Section people who had done the same.

After she returned to her quarters and did so, she went to sleep, and for the second time, her sleep went uninterrupted by nightmare. It was the first time she had gone both long'sleep and brief'sleep without nightmares here on Alpha.

S-377 DAB 1025-1050: DNAme

Dr. Russell brought up the information on Maya again. It was a Sunday, but Helena usually ended up working an hour or a few even when there weren't emergencies. In this case, Helena had several updates to make to Maya's records. She heard from John that the Science Advisor had been given a lab -- had actually asked for one yesterday. That seemed appropriate, and a good sign.

The medical forms -- paper and digital -- both had space to mark current living quarters and up to two primary working areas, all of which made sense to have on medical records. The medical database also kept prior locations as well, such that a doctor, if dealing with a person with a mysterious undiagnosed illness, could check where the person spent most of her time, in case there was something suggestive on that. A different search could be useful in searching for localized clusters of people suffering some problems.

It had taken her weeks and a question from Annette Fraser to finally get Maya's age in days converted to an actual Georgian Calendar birth date; but otherwise, she had been steadily and fairly filling in quite a few of the other lines, following various medical discussions with Maya.

She also had to mark Maya as having recently completed First Aid training. The Psychon had shown enough aptitude to absorb it well and be certified. Helena had assigned the Head Nurse to the task, though Helena had observed the first session, and made it a point for the Head Nurse to report any observations of any somewhat unusual questions or points from Maya, or where she excelled or had trouble. Maya had a Psychon equivalent to first aid training when she and her father had decided to stay on the planet, alone, but had to learn it fresh on Alpha.

Most noticeable was Maya recalling a slightly different mix of the respiratory vs. cardiac portions of CPR. More of their first aid depended on technology not available here, but they prudently had less technical, more manual procedures as well, as fallback procedures.

The CPR difference was very slight, and not surprisingly, Maya did not know how Psychons had arrived at their procedure. Helena and Bob had talked about this. It was possible that the differences with either mix were so slight, near a rounded peak of average effectiveness, or within a range of highest effectiveness, that either way could be applied equally well to either Psychon or Terran. Then again, Maya's respiration and cardiac rates were perhaps slightly different now that she was here on Alpha, and CPR was designed to be effective regardless of minor variations.

If they tried staying precise to the Psychon's memory of the procedure, and training others on that difference, it could be at the risk of others getting confused and perhaps, in the heat of a rescue, doing neither the Terran nor Psychon version, but a confusion-created version that might have less success than a single version of the CPR would. So she decided to leave procedures as they were.

Helena re-reviewed other lines, thinking again it was probably time to have Maya wear a medical monitor on her wrist again for a few days, especially now that she had a number of positive events. She was making progress, and maybe that was reflecting in lower tension.

Maya had even started talking, albeit only very minimally, about deeper concerns, such as the nightmares. Maybe Bob had been right about Psychon trust patterns.

Helena made more notes, then paged back through file, and almost closed it all when the names of Maya's relatives caught Helena's eyes again.

For some reason, she had always thought the names sounded a little lyrical, but didn't understand why. The names were all short, and some sounded rather alien, especially most of the male ones. Yet something about her parents' and grandparents' names was still calling for Helena's attention.

Mentor, Son of Yetror (& Mendia) [of Psychon]
Taylia, Daughter of Liakvut (& Yutoa) [of Psychon]

She looked at what she had written, then repeated the names aloud, wanting to hear them.

Mentor and Taylia.
Taylia and Mentor.
Yetror and Mendia.
Mendia and Yetror.

Helena started writing them out....

Mendia Yetror
Men... ..t.or
Mentor
Mendia + Yetror = Mentor

Helena was startled.

Liakvut and Yutoa having a daughter named Taylia.

Yutoa Liakvut
Y.t.a Lia...
Tay.. lia...
Taylia

That one had taken some rework, yet it still seemed like to work. Then there was Mentor and Taylia....

Mentor Taylia
M..... .ay..a
Maya

It was as if Maya had gotten more of her mother's name. Yet it seemed like Psychons formed names out of parts of both parents' names. Mix and match naming. Each child getting a different mix? Almost like DNA. Maybe not always 50/50 on the naming, but not unlike how some children more strongly resembled one parent than another at birth. Had Maya shown a stronger resemblance to her mother? She remembered the picture Annette Fraser had drawn, which Maya had thought was so well-done, Annette having secured either a very good description or maybe having asked if Maya was willing to transform into Taylia. The resemblance was indeed rather clear. Then again, resemblance might have had nothing to do with the naming. Coincidence, maybe. Perhaps Psychons chose the names before birth.

In one of the medical discussions since then, Helena had asked for any of Maya's siblings, and knew Maya had a much older brother named Telior.

Mentor Taylia
.e..or T..li
Telior

More effort, but it still worked.

No wonder the names seemed so lyrical. It wasn't any one name so much as the whole collection, the names connected to each other.

If Maya ever had children with Alphans, would this end up being extended to them? Helena resisted the urge to try combining Maya's name with a man's name or two, however.

Maybe that's why Psychons, on rare occasion, used a "clarifier" -- in case such names, brief as they apparently were, sometimes collided among unrelated individuals. Psychons apparently didn't have family names as such, yet still had familial naming patterns that ran deeper than it had first seemed. Of course, there were only so many letters in a language, so it was probably not a perfect system. Maya getting only an 'M' from Mentor seemed to bear out that it was not intended as a rigorous ancestry system, especially given the clarifier part was more explicit, but as a tradition of symbolism that pleased them on some level.

DNA naming, Helena thought. If that was behind the tradition, even if only metaphorically, it was something new -- and rather charming -- to Helena.

S-377 DAB 1225-1615: Names and Places

Now that Maya had met everyone, as of a few days ago, she felt no self-constraint about browsing the public Roster data in the Alpha Information System. She had been looking at the index on earlier occasions, however, to assure or correct her spelling on names; but now she wanted to read more.

She discovered Tony Verdeschi had two other names: Anthony, and Dean. He was listed in his main entry as Anthony "Tony" Dean Verdeschi. She did not know why "Tony" was quoted; perhaps it was a frequently-used compacted name, since Tony did seem to be a variant of Anthony, just like "Joan" seemed to be a variant of Janina.

That hypothesis soon evaporated when she ran into a few people's records where the quoted name did not seem to be anything like the other names present for the person, compacted or otherwise. Maybe it was a different sort of clarifier in case two men named Tony were present in a room. Then again, it seemed Verdeschi or Conway were the clarifiers. So what purpose did the additional name of "Dean" serve? That line of speculation led Maya nowhere.

She had heard the terms first'name and last'name, yet there seemed to be a middle'name for many, and Carl van der Mir had four names. So was Mir the latter's last name? Maybe that better explained the other term: surname. Perhaps it was not purely a synonym for last name, but a superset, or the true clarifier. That surname and last'name usually matched was probably incidental.

There seemed to be some trends, but no clear overriding pattern to the structure, though not unlike a Psychon clarifier, the Terran one seemed to be about familial connections too -- though with two major differences. One was that the surname seemed to be designed to persist across generations. Also, it seemed many -- though again not all -- females adopted her mate's surname upon marriage. So not only were the uses very alien, but in some parts inconsistent even within the alien society. Perhaps the structural and marital patterns varied by province or Terran nation'state.

Checking through entries, she saw a lot of place names. Great Britain, United States, United Kingdom, and Italy seemed frequent. China, Japan, Indonesia, New York City, California. Many, many others. Something with a long descriptor: "Chippewa Valley, supercomputer center of Earth!" Three were from South Africa, though two had moved, Carl to Netherlands and Australia, and a scientist to America. She took no notice that while Carl was light-skinned, the other two had dark skin. Alan was from Australia. Argentina, Ukraine. Janina was from Poland, but had moved to Britain. The Hydroponics department leader, Thomas Hayden, had moved from Britain to Italy. A lot of people seemed to move around on Earth.

Maya had grown up in Triska Hills, Manos Province, and as everything decayed around them, even finally Triska a couple years after her mother died, Mentor had arranged for the Shelter to be built in the largely abandoned Saltor'dre Valley, a quarter-way across the Province. That location was well suited as having many veins of potential metal and mineral resources for Psyche, and had only one volcano nearby at the time, ancient, dormant, and not yet awakened. Ironically, they had built the shelter near there, where the signs of new volcanic activity welling up there were still somewhat minimal, giving them a chance to establish the shelter, get Psyche expanding and starting to extend tendrils of itself, and even to block the volcano virtually above them.

Mentor wanted to prove Psyche could work, but while the already dying and doomed listened, and offered their minds, others were being steadily killed by the rapid environmental degradation. Some, including Maya's brother, had already left, and those remaining to hear Mentor's plans did not listen, and eventually those who continued to survive long enough to build more ships, also left.

Even as Psyche's power grew, protecting their shelter, Taylia's gravesite, and other spotty areas, much of the planet slipped. What few physical remains of Psychon civilization which were still remaining when the last star'ship had left, had vanished in only a couple years after that, leaving only the sheltered two individuals. Maybe that was also part of what had given her some of the increasing nightmares back on Psychon, that even as Psyche grew, the volcanism was still increasing rapidly -- the pace still accelerating but more slowly as Psyche grew in power. Psychon and Psyche had been running a race, the former towards its complete undoing, the latter towards a point of halting and perhaps reversing it. Which was going to reach a critical point first?

Psyche's destruction had added a new variable, not of increase of pace, but burst of unrestrained transformative energy -- harvested first from dying Psychons willing to give what they had left, then other mental energies from unwilling aliens drained to living husks....

Maya back jerked to full consciousness, her breath already ragged, having drifted briefly into dream'thoughts. She was grateful the medical monitor was no longer present. If Helena knew that she was still having nightmares or the occasional daymare -- daydreams gone bad -- every second or third day....

She forced her eyes back to the screen, looking again at place'names, even though they were nothing more than curiosity value to Maya.

Reading that and parts of the other summaries, she wished for the interlace bug here, for she would be able to memorize all of it. In the end, she decided it was not as informative as meeting each person and talking. She found herself skimming entries for new bits more informative to her than place'names. With almost 300 people, even this selective read would take awhile.

She ran across her name in the index, about halfway through. She opened up the entry. Other than her own very brief name and the option to view her picture, which was one of those pictures Bill had taken of her, the entry was empty, except for presenting an option to enter information, an option that was, not surprisingly, absent in others' entries. She almost moved to the next person's record, but to say nothing about herself at all...?

Since most people's entries so far had some place names, she thought she might as well enter that much, so she simply added: 'Born in Eetria, Triska Hills, Manos Province, Psychon.' Everyone knew she was from Psychon already, so she decided she might as well include it. Then she added: 'Moved to Alpha 344DAB, posted Science Advisor 347DAB.'

She was not sure what else to write at this moment, so she left it at that, and moved to subsequent entries, then back to Tony's.

Tony's was brief, mentioning being born in Italy, having several siblings, being educated there and in Britain, being posted to Alpha in 1998, becoming Security Officer and then First Officer as well. There was an option to view his picture, and she found herself staring at it a little. She had thought him very attractive from the start. Very dark hair, not unlike a lot of Psychons -- almost as many as those who had some shade of Maya's color. A strong, resolved look about him. His eyes....

That part of his face was both the most and least alien part of him. The eyebrows of hair, alien to Psychon, but which she knew were more common among the races elsewhere in space, curved downward in such a strange way. Different, yet not unattractive in their own way. At first, the arc of their eyebrows had added a slight air of gentle puzzlement to them, though that impression faded as she got used to them, reading them better, and knowing from the start that though not as advanced technologically, they were intelligent too. The eyes themselves, though, were quite normal, and even more than just that. His were a pleasant shade of brown, and while they could sometimes be filled with suspicion about Maya, they were always filled with intelligence, and sometimes when he was being kind to her, his eyes could look very warm and friendly.

Even in the picture on the monitor, their brown shade was clear. He had a quirky half-smile in the picture, like he had just thought of or heard something funny. Did he have a sense of humor? She hadn't really seen it yet, except for tiny bits. So probably not much of one. He was a very serious, intense, yet sometimes very kind man. Yes, very attractive. Or what was the Alphan word she had heard during women'talk, in regard to men? Handsome? Yes, handsome.

She shook loose those thoughts, yet she sometimes had them, to a lesser degree, when looking at the pictures of some of the other men. When she found herself avoiding doing that with pictures of men she knew were married and thus not available, she quit doing it altogether, realizing she was once again getting ahead of herself. So many years with no realistic options, and after a few weeks here she was already making assumptions on options. It hadn't helped that the Commander and the Doctor were already making assumptions that others could potentially become interested in her. They had only ended up encouraging some of her thoughts.

M-378 DAB 1505-1530: Electrolytes and Salts

Dr. Russell studied the latest electrolyte panel of Maya. Of most obvious concern was the Psychon's elevated potassium level, which given the current working assumption of it being normal for her, was something Medical was watching most closely, to see whether she would be able to retain it consuming human food and drink. It was virtually unchanged -- so far. Apparently, her body was retaining potassium well, with only minor fluctuations. It was now pretty easy to conclude, without much worry, that this was not hyperkalemia for her. Helena decided from here out, it would be referred to as psykalemia, to imply that though distinctly beyond normal for a human, it was apparently typical for a Psychon.

Besides assumed efficiencies at reclaiming potassium in the kidneys, it was possible her digestive system was a little more efficient claiming it from food and drink sources. Of course, it was possible Maya had, after discussions with the dietician, also found which human foods were richer in that and had perhaps rebalanced her diet a little to include more of those foods. She'd have to check with both the patient and dietician to find out more. Bob wasn't the only one curious to figure out the psykalemia dynamic.

That Maya had only mild hypermagnesemia and no hypercalcemia was still a puzzle as well. She seemed to betray no ill effects of the former, just as with the hyperkalemia. Maybe the slightly elevated magnesium level was just to support the potassium -- in Psychon metabolism. In human metabolism, they were basically independent. Furthermore, virtually everything else was the same. It seemed her Psychon biochemistry put some premium on the potassium, or buffered it somehow.

Of course, it was easy to wonder if it had something to do with molecular transformation, but there was nothing to support that, and even if true, still left the question of exactly why.

She was beginning to guess that most of Maya's DNA differences supported several obvious factors: presumably the metamorphic ability itself in some unknown way, the few but noticeable biochemical differences, the slight metabolic differences, her taste for metallic salts, and the unique eyebrows and patches of different skin color on her cheeks, ears, and upper sides of her nose.

The mental differences were a more difficult matter. There were no appreciable brain structure differences, at least to the limits of human technology to scan. However, among humans, the brain, mind, and connection between them were all subtle and very poorly understood. So from where Maya's mind had such astonishing mathematical, linguistic, and raw data absorption capabilities, while still seeming human in most other ways, was a mystery.

Bob had recently wondered how the Psychon dealt with the enormous amount of molecular information, unconsciously at least. According to Maya, this was little understood by Psychons themselves, and what Maya did grasp still was still translating poorly to Terran terms. He had also wondered if whatever capacity handled that was directly or indirectly responsible for some Maya's other notable mental characteristics. She spoke often of 'just raw data' about non-metamorphic things. Even though the underlying details of molecular transformation were largely unconscious processes to Psychons, so were a lot of mental processes among humans too that nonetheless gave conscious benefits. What gave that capacity was of course a total mystery, Bob had pointed out. It was all speculation so far, especially since what Maya did understand for herself was so far not 'translating' well.

"Some of it may never translate," Bob had said. "Her mind is still that of an alien, and the ability is alien. However, over time, as she adjusts further to our way of thinking, so to speak, other clues may be forthcoming, once she knows how to word some of it. Again, she'll probably never be able to explain some of it to us, even partially."

Any Terran/Psychon comparisons and contrasts regarding the mind were further complicated by the fact some Terrans had some rather astonishing capability to absorb details in the blink of an eye, or do amazing computations. That in most cases their ability to handle such incredible detail came at the expense of filtering out enough detail to handle all the generalities of day-to-day life around them often created far more problems than the benefits of such "gifts." Plus, it was impossible to say the most "gifted" such human might fall on a scale against a Psychon. Helena suspected that as with DNA and so many other facets of life, there was no single scale anyway.

The final complication was Maya's own sometimes deep hesitance talking about much of this. Caught at the right moment or with the right question, she seemed to freely give hints, but a lot of times, she would defer. It was difficult to guess whether it was like her early attempts to explain molecular transformation and floundering over lack of common frame of reference until she could think through some partial explanation, or over not wanting to linger too long in her differences, especially over something where she was concerned over reactions, immediate or cumulative. She rarely talked about such aspects of herself outside of certain limited contexts.

This, Helena could understand, and Helena had decided Maya's trust was more important than tons of answers to curiosity questions. She'd take the latter where she could get them, and the researcher in her was still going to avail herself of opportunities. However, it appeared Maya had -- consciously, unconsciously, or somewhere in between -- found herself a reasonable, balanced, if somewhat uneasy path to take working her way into Alphan society. Not without awkward points, over-caution or occasional statements that could irritate or offend, and also not without needing an occasional nudge to move a little faster, but still a fairly steady journey Helena was loath to upset. Helena too would just have to strike to a balance too.

Dr. Russell turned her attention off the DNA and brain/mind tangents and back to the electrolytes. The latter was not as theoretical as the former, and indeed was of concern in case it was critical to watch.

Helena reminded herself a few weeks was not enough to conclude whether Maya would be able to keep psykalemic levels while living a new life in a new environment with mostly new sorts of foods. If it was something of a battle for her system to keep that level up, it could start going down at some point anyway, or create some other difficulty. Or if she was rebalancing her diet a little but potassium-rich foods underwent a minor reduction in availability, it could affect her earlier and more severely than humans. Or it might not at all. The potassium level could be completely spurious. It would simply have to be watched.

Helena looked at the salt shaker that had just been delivered. It held a mix of some metallic salts that Maya craved and had requested after Helena's encouragement. It was not for Maya's own body, but to aid some transformations. It was heavier than one that size normally would be, but the metallic salts were denser than sodium chloride. The Chemical department had, after safety concerns were discussed and approval given, worked on creating a supply of the salts. As expected, there was a written warning on the bottle:

WARNING: METALLIC SALTS. For Psychon consumption only. Humans should NOT consume! Contact Medical if poisoning occurs. Content Designator #: HMS4PY9Z

Helena had already been given the Content Designator Number earlier, and had updated the medical database on how to respond to such.

Someone in Chemistry had apparently insisted on clear symbolic warning as well, however. There were two symbols of heavily oversimplified faces drawn in simple lines. Each included two simple lines for eyebrows, one face having down-curved eyebrows and one having up-curved eyebrows. For the symbolic Terran face, there was a red circle around the face and a red 'x' over the mouth. The Psychon face lacked any such warning. Helena smiled. It was a good idea, actually.

Helena called in Maya, handed her the salt shaker with a warning it should not leave her room unless needing refilling and should be kept in a cabinet out of the reach of any children. Helena did not see the sad look flash across Maya's face for a mere moment as Helena reached into a drawer for the other thing: the medical wrist monitor. Helena spotted Maya looking over the shaker and giving a brief smile at the symbolic warning.

"It has been a few weeks since you've worn this, and I would like to gather new baselines during the course of a few typical days, maybe until the end of the week. Same guidelines as before."

"Okay," Maya said neutrally.

T-379 DAB 0900-1000: Salvage and Lead?

Commander Koenig was again thinking of the first, limited try at having Maya lead a team.

Not long after he and Maya had explored the Satazius, it had struck him that having her not just be a member of Alien Ship Salvage explorations, but as the team's lead, could be of value in both the salvage aspect and seeing her aptitude. He had talked with Tony, who had argued various things ranging from it being tossing her in the deep end of the pool, yet still being a rather limited and controlled test, and other concerns, but as before, agreed to help John.

From subsequent and still ongoing conversations with her, and training her about it, it was clear she was somewhat nervous about it, yet was listening intently and asking intelligent questions. Her biggest concern, though she did not state it as such, seemed to be about ordering others -- aliens? -- around. Understandable, especially as she was struggling to be accepted by more people. Yet contradictorily enough, maybe this would speed up this process, that some might respect her more for increasingly contributing. No way to know yet.

She had some childhood experience in leadership, in a way. Psychons seemed to emphasize that anyone might need to be a leader at some time, and made all children act as temporary leaders at various points, what Maya had called calziran. Tony had been in that session, and deciphered that ziran was a word root meaning leader. "I think you called me detraziran once," he had added. Unfortunately, such practice had ceased early in her adolescence as Psychon society was breaking apart. John had not asked for details on that, or the general nature of higher leadership in Psychon society, wanting to keep this on track and her mind off her traumatic past.

This was going to be a fresh start to the Alien Ship Salvage team, beginning with a Graktor wreck. Mechanical engineers had been on the earlier team at times, plus some Computer personnel, and assorted others. It had been a loose team frequently changing in make-up. Given other needs, it had not remained a focused team, and the effort had trailed off lately. It was to be a recurring task, even if the team make-up varied at time. He decided to focus on the more immediate.

Electrical Engineer Carl van der Mir had been aboard an alien wreck once or twice, not in a position of authority, though he had lead teams at other times.

John thought it might make sense to bring Chief Architect Karedepoulos in sometime too, given the sheer scale of some of these ships and the possibility of salvaging some materials to incorporate into the base as well during repair or expansion.

Jim Haines was another excellent candidate, since the latter's main job still remained related to Eagle/ship design, and he had exposure to the Voyager recordings.

The last two had some problems getting along with Maya, but decided to split the difference between good challenge and excessive challenge, and considered Haines. He talked with Tony, asking if the second session between Jim and Maya had been any more cordial.

"Well, more cordial, but more out of tolerance and technical curiosity than any real respect, probably."

"I'm thinking about putting him on the salvage team with Maya after all. He's been supervising the Hauler team, but his most detailed role was in designing the pod, and that stage is past, so he should be able to take one shift on something else now."

"Okay, and I suppose her dealing with him would also make it a little more meaningful of a test for her."

He called in van der Mir first.

"How is she on the Science Board lately? Be frank."

"Pretty good. She's starting to be a lot less shy about presenting her opinion and standing her ground at times. She chooses her battles very carefully -- too carefully really. In general, it is very clear the technological gap is huge, but she's learning our systems very quickly, does come up with some rather unique questions and ways of thinking of our tech, and in this and other ways has had solid contributions."

"Good. Carl, you've probably noticed the Alien Ship Salvage project has gotten set aside so often lately that it has virtually stalled. I intend to re-launch the team, probably as part of the Research Unit. You'll be one of its main members, on a large fraction of the monthly or more frequent missions, rotating among the various wrecks. We'll have a mechanical engineer, perhaps eventually an architect, probably a ship designer, perhaps others later."

"Sounds excellent. I suspect you're about to tell me this anyway, but I assume you've considered Maya as well?"

"I am thinking of making her the team lead. She needs to practice some team lead skills and continue integrating with other Alphan teams as well, calling on or distributing knowledge to and from others, working more with Data Analyst Benes."

"That... probably makes sense. Heaven knows I lead and have led quite a few small or larger teams here, and am not looking for yet another at the moment; so if you're looking for some immature protest, you won't find it here."

"Good." John filled in some more details, then dismissed him.

Jim Haines didn't seem anywhere near as laid back about it, probably taken aback she'd be made a small team leader so soon. Aside from that, it was hard to gauge the young man's reaction, and John was left with the impression he'd get along with Maya -- but only to a point.

The fourth member of the team was going to be a non-technical support member in the form of a pilot, this time, and a brief conversation with Alan sorted that out -- Adam Bannion, a pilot who was also a paramedic, which seemed prudent. He was called in, and this settled, and he and Alan left, and Tony called Maya in.

She expressed concern mostly about leading Carl, who was the chair of the Science Board on which she was only a member. They assured her that teams could vary in structure in different contexts, and that he was fine with it anyway. She was also skeptical about Haines, but assured her the authority was hers, though she should not ignore valid concerns. They worked out a schedule, Maya suggesting two days later, and John indicated she should contact her teams members to verify, and once a time was agreed upon, to coordinate with Sandra, who would be Maya's immediate supervisor on this and would coordinate with Service to prepare other mission details. Maya agreed, and was soon dismissed.

After that, John looked at Tony, who only shrugged. Mildly impressed by a small point about Maya was not convinced, by any stretch. John's having Sandra take this supervisory role was not terribly new even if this team was more cross-Section than most she had run, and apparently made no impression on Tony either.

Even though Maya's reactions now, and all along in other ways, seemed to be holding up John's hope Maya could be an officer, even he was a little surprised by the promise in these new signs. Maya seemed to take a lot in stride, perhaps not inside, but outwardly. Coping mechanism, probably: working through grief in part via work. Not unlike a lot of people after Breakaway or subsequent personal losses. It was a very Alphan reaction.

T-379 DAB 1000-1400: Technological Combinatorics

Maya and Janina had long since had a deeper conversation about Nuclear Generating Area 2 itself. The prior interference indirectly generated by thoughtless comments by Hydroponics Manager Thomas Hayden had been dispelled by Commander Koenig. Not surprisingly, Science Advisor Maya had more to say about it when they had met more than a week later.

Dr. Conway had gracefully accepted that Maya had learned the basic ideas and then details and maths of physics much earlier in her life. She was a little surprised that Psychon even had a few working nuclear reactors. A few questions had made Maya look noticeably edgy, as if concerned about arrogance, but with a little more cajoling, trusted Janina enough to admit they existed for two purposes: museum pieces, partially as education to youngsters about older levels of technology. When Psychons needed nuclear reactions, they did not need an Earth-style reactor any more.

There could have been more to discuss there, but there were plenty of other interesting topics to discuss. Maya's knowledge of subspace and hyperspace theory was strong, but also ran so deep Janina was soon over her head initially, mostly because the mathematics were not yet known to her yet. When she asked Maya about that, she got back snippets about what Maya called arrayed ellipticals, intermediate dimensionals, and some other Psychon stuff Maya only had Psychon words for. Janina secured a promise Maya would try to find some better explanations and for further discussion, curious if she might eventually follow some of it. Maybe it would help unlock -- or at least give a slight "peek" at -- even more fundamental particles and forces in the universe.

Yet sessions had focused a lot on current Alpha tech, knowledge, and theories regarding physics. Janina had found out she was pursuing a few lines of research that Maya had doubts would be productive. Other areas, the Science Advisor thought were very interesting experiments in use of Alphan tech. Still others, Maya did not know.

"Every culture has a unique way of using technology to solve problems. I have already seen that on Alpha as well. So some of your experiments, I am just not sure to what they will lead, partially because of the uniqueness, and partially because I do not want to make unwarranted assumptions about the technology."

"It is so ancient it is scarcely taught on Psychon but that it might leave you with a lot of gaps about how some of it works," Janina had paraphrased.

It was probably a good sign of the increasing comfort Maya had after awhile talking professionally yet as friends too, about physics, that she did not hesitate long before quietly nodding, understanding the blunt yet gentle, simple question Janina had, and that she was not going to judge honest answers as arrogant ones.

"I have already been seeing a lot more clever uses of this sort of technology than I would have expected," Maya added.

Already, the title Science Advisor seemed a perfect fit for Maya. She had good advice, good suggestions, even a good, gentle manner about presenting them.

Janina's favorite discussions with Maya were over force fields and artificial gravity. There too, Janina felt there was a lot of potential, difficult to tap while Maya was still learning the peculiars of Alphan tech and Janina was stuck staring at mysterious equations Maya wrote -- or listening to Maya indicate she was not aware of human mathematical systems robust enough to go further. All theory, and little of it -- but nothing practical yet. Still, Janina felt there was potential discoveries awaiting them as a team.

Today, though, was something different. Janina had requested and received permission for someone doing a practice flight on an Eagle to take a moderately longer route but still not very far, to the nearest "Far Side" portion of the Moon. "Far Side" was now a somewhat outdated term, but still used for the part of the Moon which had not been visible from Earth. Moonbase Alpha, on the Near Side was not far from the pole, the Earth low on Alpha's horizon before, so it was not far to get to the far side. Just past the last of the libration area -- the small sliver of the back 50.0% of the Moon which could occasionally be seen from Earth due to the eccentricity of the Moon's orbit and diameter of the Earth -- was Scintillator Lab 1. It had been established pre-Breakaway, one of the purest research projects around, putting a pool of ultra-pure cold water in a deep cavern on the Moon. Below rock and shielded from the electromagnetic noise of Earth, and all but some occasional lunar satellite and Eagle comm-traffic, it was the perfect place for this.

It was not a long journey to the scintillator pool area. There was no need for a travel tube, but there was a lift, and it went deep. It was originally a two-decade-old experimental mine, set up with equipment delivered by two Selene missions, not far from where someone had proposed a site for a moonbase.

Maya always seemed far more fascinated by the science, however primitive it might be to her, than the history, so Janina started describing how they were old mines which had been changed over to a mix of scientific experimentation, with the rest abandoned until after Breakaway, when other parts of the mine were turned into a deep storage bunker. Other than visits regarding the latter, Janina was one of the very few who visited this location. It was mostly monitored remotely, still almost purely research.

They reached the scintillator.

Maya seemed puzzled when she saw the enormous pool rigged up with numerous sensors, and gave Janina one of those 'what is this' looks, which were fast becoming one of Maya's trademarks, and a very helpful one, Janina had realized, for who it showed Maya didn't know everything and wasn't afraid to show it.

"It is a scintillator pool, placed deep underground to mask out more mundane wavelengths, to detect the highest-wavelengths, such as cosmic rays, neutrinos, and to look for other exotic sub-atomic particles."

"With a pool of water?"

"It is pure water, encased in a non-corrosive surface. Heavy water, actually."

"Heavy water? Do you mean with deuterium? D₂O?"

Quick study, Janina thought. Maya was picking up human terminology quickly. "Yes, exactly," Janina said. "If a molecule is disturbed in some way, it lets out a tiny burst of light and other particles we can detect."

"Oh, indirect detection with water and sensors, how clever!"

Aside from the word 'clever,' 'indirect' was one of Maya's favorite words when it came to Alphan technology, or so it seemed. It was fast becoming one of Janina's favorite things to hear Maya say about anything involving physics. Maya was not implying primitiveness per se, but that humans were on the right track. Well, mostly, Janina thought, realizing it could also mean they were getting sidetracked on dead ends.

They discussed this for awhile, and looked over the computer systems, of course Maya was intensely interested as always.

Janina had packed a little food for both of them, and as they ate, talked more about the system. When they were done, they returned to closer inspection.

At one point, as Maya listened to Janina and watched her bring up other aspects of the system, Maya casually commented, "Oh, so you actually can detect the rocky -- terrestrial? -- planets in a star system when you reach its edge and your hyperspatial shell collapses?" She continued looking at the screen, even as Janina turned to look at her in surprise. Maya, not looking up, just as casually added, "I wonder why the Commander didn't mention that."

"Wait, what?" Janina said. Had Maya just assumed they could detect inner planets days before they were close enough to resolve them?

Maya finally looked up from the system, looked at Janina, and then started apologizing. "Oh, you can't? I didn't mean to imply--"

"Maya, forget the apologies," Janina said quickly, anxious to hear what the Psychon was thinking.

"I... assumed some of those sensors were Oxford ZT Sensors," Maya said quietly.

Despite wanting to know what Maya was getting at, the name had her laughing. "The name is just ZT Sensor, developed during the Selene Program. Someone apparently just had to get in the name Oxford when talking to you."

"Oxford?"

"The university where the ZT Sensor was initially developed."

"Oh. Okay, ZT Sensor."

Maya didn't ask about the rest, and Janina, who had a doctorate from Cambridge, wasn't going to get into the sometimes passionate Oxbridge rivalry either.

ZT Sensors? Why would she think those were useful in a particle/wave duality experiment? "What would ZT Sensors detect here?" she asked simply yet anxiously.

"When interacting with the other devices in this system, indirect signs of disturbances induced by gravity waves, but only if the computer system is programmed to correlate the data with other readings taken from the existing particle detection aspects of the pool."

"Gravity waves?" Janina knew what gravity waves were, in theory anyway. They were still being studied. Janina had mentioned them to Maya briefly, but other than listing the term and a brief definition so Maya would have a common frame of reference on this and other Terran terms, they had not been discussed further.

Maya apparently remembered this, for she quickly got to her specific point. "When the Moon drops out of its huge hyperspatial shell and resumes space-normal travel, the sudden change in the gravitational fabric reflects weakly off any planets. If you emerge even closer, perhaps even the largest planetoids, like your-- the Moon would be detectable, maybe. I haven't really studied an Oxf... -- I mean ZT Scanner -- in detail yet to verify it is completely suitable, but my first estimate is seventy-two percent probability."

Dr. Conway rolled all of that around in her mind, then said, "This sounds very interesting." She asked Maya how long she thought the computer programming might take, and got an initial estimate of 8-12 hours for what Janina would have called initial proof-of-concept functionality. Maya wasn't sure about the rest, needing to review more about the other sensors and further details about the scintillator's computer program.

It was something the two of them could cobble together in little time. She called up one of the senior scientists she knew used ZT Sensors, that she thought had distribution control over the devices, asking to borrow a few for a month for proof-of-concept, explaining the promising idea and how it had arisen.

The young scientist found the quick rush come to an abrupt halt against resistance from the older scientist. "I don't know about this," she said. Janina tried to find out what the resistance was, or whether the units were currently in use, and was soon getting in an argument about how 'unlikely' the idea seemed, and other such statements. Janina wondered how much of it was over Maya's involvement.

I thought the process of being posted to Alpha was supposed to weed out such narrow-mindedness, Janina thought in frustration. She felt the urge to go to the Commander with this, but then remembered the Science Board, and realized this was now the proper route for a low-priority but promising idea. Maybe it was just as well.

Just at that moment, the other scientist, on hearing nothing from her, said in a droll tone that maybe she should take it to the Science Board. Maybe Janina had been letting her enthusiasm over a minor task overcome her, but she still felt frustrated. Who was the wiser one here? she wondered, but did not have an answer. She had little doubt it would get approved, however. It was a potentially valuable detection system with little cost.

For her part, Maya showed little reaction. Whether she felt one and hid it out of not wanting to appear judgmental, or she was not at all surprised by this aspect of scientific progress, Janina had no idea, and she merely shrugged when she got off the line.

"I'll vote for it," Maya said dryly.

Janina laughed. A serious statement -- yet worded and toned like a joke. "So will I, Maya. So will I."

T-379 DAB 1800-1900: Where's...?

Greg Sanderson's increasingly frequent presence in Susan Crawford's life was giving her conflicting feelings. Part of her still did not feel ready for a new relationship, yet part of her did. The other part of the conflict was that even if she was ready, he probably was not, barely more than a month since he had lost Jane, his fiancée.

Another aspect was her son, George. He seemed to respond well to male faces, as if expecting there should be more frequent sight of one. The poor baby deserved someone he could treat as a father, and could later call Dad.

At times, she was starting to wonder if Greg could be a man in her life, if he would eventually be ready for a new relationship -- and whether Greg could be a father for George.

Though barely a baby, George seemed to be weighing in a little -- and his 'opinion', if it could be called that, seemed to be changing. At first, he had seemed to be a mixture of calm and fussy around Greg. Recently, however, part of that had started fading... namely the fussy part. George seemed to respond a little better to Greg. Maybe her baby boy was seeing in Greg something which had been missing in his life so far -- a more frequent father figure.

A lot of times, it was still out in the lounge in her residential block, near the lift. Less often, it was by a similarly-placed lounge in his. Sometimes, and more frequently of late, it was in her quarters, sometimes his -- still always with the baby.

When in the open lounge in her residential block, however, she noticed the irritation some of her fellow parents were showing. What was so wrong? That she was extending friendship to someone sensible and hurting? That she was entertaining thoughts of a future relationship with him? That maybe she wanted a husband again? That maybe George wanted a dad? That Greg could perhaps make a good, protective husband and father?

He had made no signs of interest in making this a romantic relationship, but had said nothing excluding it either -- and she had not 'pushed' or 'suggested' it in any even moderately direct way.

W-380 DAB 1930-2350: The Zoo

"She's a walking zoo."

That statement or ones like it, had become something of a joke, or a nervous statement, or statement of fear, about their newest resident. Though it usually came off as rude if understandable -- Dr. Pedro Gutierez too had his doubts about the wisdom of getting an alien so involved in the workings of a human colony -- the statement, though not one he had made up, felt like something which might have occurred to him with a sense of awe rather than fear.

He had been on some second-wave exploration Eagles to some of the planets the Moon had skittered by in its strange travels; but whereas botanists could easily find their subject of study, animals had the annoying tendency of hiding or simply staying hidden. Alphan missions, days at most, were too short to set up shop and really try to study.

It had been the weirdest thing to read that the Psychon could turn herself into other life forms. Hearing she had shortly thereafter turned herself into a lioness, however, had engaged the thinking part of his mind more than anything. From where did she know an Earth animal? A traveling space zoo? Or from lions living on other planets? Alphans had seen some plant and animal life that looked Terran, though no lions. Or maybe there were lions on Psychon?

Small traps set and removed from some planets had netted some small animals, some the same as Terran, some quite alien. Insects had been netted as well, with the same mix. However, back on Earth, the zoological community was pretty sure only a fraction of Earth arthropods had been discovered and categorized, and even among larger animals, there were gaps. Talking with Abigail Strong, Botany's manager, as well as Lena Andreichi, regarding their research into plant samples -- and some whole plants -- obtained from alien worlds had borne out similar results. Then of course there were the humanoid aliens, some of which looked almost or completely human. Hell, Dione even arrived looking like a classic 'biker chick' like those in the U.S. and some who had filtered into Mexico.

He counted himself fortunate to be in some philosophical discussions with Cmdr. Koenig, Dr. Russell, Prof. Bergman, and Dr. Strong over these increasingly intriguing results. Arkadia had proven most interesting, with a 100% of the remains -- at least those few which had been sampled -- proving to be the same as Terran. The hypothesis of Ferro and Davis had been discussed, but increasingly, it seemed their clouded judgment may have excluded other possibilities, some of which were just starting to get discussed just before the death of Bergman. Those had been fascinating discussions, ended on a note from the Professor reminding them of what every good scientist knew: their hypotheses were probably only covering some of the possibilities. The Professor, though not a zoologist, had to be one of the wisest men Pedro had ever met, and had a powerful way of looking at problems and providing grist for thought even where he could not claim expertise.

Now there was a metamorph turning herself into what was undeniably Panthera leo -- well, not undeniably given the lack of verification by an expert. Yet P. leo or not, she knew it from somewhere, and it sure as hell was not Alpha. Curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he had asked for a discussion session, even though he'd not been on a list for such.

The Commander's memo weeks ago had made it clear he did not want Maya treated like some curiosity. All the remarks about her being a walking zoo only made Pedro realize having her show various animals would be treating her like a zoo. Besides, he was curious if she knew anything about zoology besides just turning into animals. He laughed at the thought: just turning into animals? Lord only knew that plenty of zoologists and even philosophers had wondered what went on in an animals 'mind', such as it was, if it even was a mind.

Of course, the last thing he needed was more trouble with the Commander. He had already gotten into an altercation which had drawn not just the Security Officer, who tended to be pretty good throwing the metaphorical hammer around, but the Commander as well. Alpha had not been something he had wanted to consider a permanent home, and having to move to smaller levels was far from a joy.

Fortunately, even if impulsive in his own way, he had avoided the seeming "passion cures all miseries" foolishness that among other factors, had resulted in so many children, as joyous as it still was. At that time, his own girlfriend had gotten caught up in the rumors about birth control and he wanted no part of fathering a child on Alpha until their more immediate survival was clearer. That had created arguments and strain. Even after she calmed, her own embarrassment had created more troubles, onto which was heaped a greater work load, that he had to sort out, but that while he was doing so, created additional strains. Their relationship had crumbled.

He finally had learned to delegate some of his tasks to others, his modest research department now growing, and borrowing people from departments whose work had become only sporadic since leaving Earth orbit. With Paul's Plan he had been brought into more interaction with Sandra Benes and to a lesser degree with Tanya Aleksandr. He thought the former cute but too quiet, but had quickly started falling for Tanya -- only for her to be killed in some strange alien attack before he could even consider whether she'd consider a date with him. Now he sometimes found himself pining for a woman he had scarcely known and was now lost.

Pedro had already met Maya in a random encounter in a hallway, some time before. She seemed charming enough, and strangely something of a beauty for an alien, but he tended to agree with Thomas Hayden of Hydroponics and Abigail Strong of Botany that mixing in too many alien ideas into such key enterprises could be dangerous. Pedro's department was not quite to key enterprise status yet, but the Plan had it heading squarely in that direction.

Nonetheless, he greeted Maya cordially when she came into one of the smaller, older Zoology labs, in a location which had not seen any repurposing in what he silently nicknamed the Great Migration. For a moment, he was surprised to see her arrive alone, then remembered the news that had spread a few days ago that Maya was no longer under guard, or protection, or whatever it was, from Security.

He started getting into some of the general background of Zoology. Part of its purpose had been to study animals under long term time periods on Moonbase Alpha, looking for signs of danger to animals from long durations on the moonbase, which might echo to similar concerns for humans. Tours of duty had generally been limited, though someone could have additional tours at later times, and a few exceptions had been made for longer tours, based on needed expertise, willingness to take personal risk, family situation, and for the sake of trying to see how well extended stays would work.

Animals, however, had no such limitations. He started showing her around, pointing out species. "Oh, leaf'fatworms," she said at the first. It was a charming literal name, though he of course clarified they were called caterpillars. Another similarity.

This lab did not have all the animal life on Alpha, but his description of what was on Alpha soon ranged wider. It had all been relatively small animals, though. Arthropods, sponges and some other lower marine animals, fish, amphibians, small reptiles, some typical research birds such as doves and finches, and some small mammals, especially mice.

In a moment where Maya got a call from someone, he mused somewhat.

Cats and dogs could make good test subjects too, and occasionally were back on Earth, albeit in more reformed, humane ways, but not on Alpha, where pets were not allowed but "pet" animals could create curiosity and further controversy.

There had been talk that since Moonbase Alpha had been conceived of -- and made as -- a very multi-purpose facility, that smaller Moonbases Beta, Gamma, Delta, and such could be more specialized. None of that had come to fruition, and now 300 humans were traveling without a single one of the two major companion animals.

Chimpanzees or other monkeys were a different matter. They were not pets, and there were rules about their treatment, so the rules against primates on Alpha were not for the same reasons as those against canids and felines. Primates were simply too close to humans genetically. The so-called Venusian plague had been tracked back, as best as could be determined, to two research monkeys carrying a disease that had probably mutated in one of them while the monkeys were housed in a part of the station inadequately shielded against the Sun's radiation. The disease had jumped the species barrier to humans -- zoonotic infection -- and proved devastating, forcing the isolation of the station, to the death of all aboard.

Alpha was under the ILC, a different division of the World Space Commission than the Venus station. The latter had not been under no-primate rules. Afterwards, provisions were made that primates and some other higher mammals known to be ready sources of zoonotic diseases would only be used in limited circumstances in relatively small stations, and with greater care taken.

As he talked, he found she understood the subject of research, and the rules governing proper methods of such research.

Though listening carefully and showing curiosity to the animals, there were frequent points where she had been giving an odd but brief expression to each new species, downturning her head slightly but still looking at them directly, giving an even stranger angle to her eyebrows.

When he got to the mice, though, besides continuing his discussion on research, he reached into a cage to grab one, and offered to hand it to her. She smiled and accepted it with no qualms.

"I've never seen this creature before," she said.

"No mice?"

"No, but it seems like a wonderfully adaptable animal."

"What?" he asked, unsure what context she was speaking in.

"Oh, I didn't mean to get into metamorphic--"

"Hey, don't worry about it; just speak your mind."

"I metasensed it on contact--"

"You have been... metasensing some by sight before," he abruptly guessed.

She looked uncomfortable for a moment, but his curiosity was genuine, and she seemed to realize it and relax. "Yes, I have. It's not really sight, but a sense, though sight does play a small part, so I suppose you could call it a 'look.' It serves the same purpose as the direct contact sense, but via a different mechanism that takes a little more concentration."

"What about the mouse?"

"It seems to have very flexible instinct patterns, and if I could transform into one, I could probably plant relatively large instruction'sets into it as well. Still not as much as larger creatures, but more than most animals the size of mice. In fact, more than any this size."

He instantly had two questions.

"Could transform? Instruction sets?"

"I do not know how to transform into animals this small yet. It is well within a metamorph's ultimate limits, but I am still learning and my limit has not reached that point yet."

"Interesting. How small now?"

"A few weeks ago, it was a... dove. Now it is a, ah... I would translate it as thorn'hopper'bird, about 70% the mass of a dove. Eventually, moderate-sized insects."

That could carry hours worth of conversation, but his other question also demanded an answer. "Instruction sets?"

"Well, in the larger creatures, I can plant some degree of my own consciousness, depending on the animal's existing capacity. In intelligent creatures, I can include most or all of my consciousness. In small, unintelligent animals, I only include a fraction of my consciousness at best, but in many cases can only plant sets of instructions, less and less flexible the more inflexible the animal's own instincts are. Plus, I instinctively have to include reversion instructions, and though the reversion trigger is... small, for lack of a better word, it becomes one of the final limits at small sizes."

They conversed about that for a little while, and found both fascination and some disappointment. She really had little concept of the animal's mind. She was, after all, trying to substitute parts of her own mind in, and mostly seemed to be 'borrowing' useful instincts, keeping a lot of what the animal could do without really knowing much about how it would perceive things, at least in a higher-level way. Yet, he still got some glimpses, before Maya soon started looking a little uncomfortable. For someone trying to integrate in, trying to emphasize similarities over differences while apparently not denying differences, at least not in obvious ways -- she did not try to cover her eyebrows with her voluminous hair or add makeup to try to minimize the shading on her cheeks -- she apparently did not want to spend a whole lot of time talking about the differences. Or maybe his curiosity was a little too intense for her. He did not know, but even a small glimpse was enough, so he moved on, but in phases.

"I'm really not surprised mice are flexible, but it is interesting to hear it confirmed in this way," he said with a smile. "That is probably part of why they make such good research subjects. We have long known mice are surprisingly adaptable and flexible; adaptable enough to flourish in many habitats and flexible enough to use in a variety of experiments."

She had understood the discussion about experiments before, but she suddenly looked a little chilled.

"What?" he asked.

"Just so long as you don't use me," Maya had said.

"What? Oh, by accident you mean."

They discussed a simple way he could verify any surprise delivery of an animal, since an occasional escapee did occur. Placing a creature in a wider, open-top, high-wall cage was all Maya would need to revert. Some of the details about her problems with cages were strange, and at one point, he asked why while transforming, her expanding size simply didn't force the cage to open or break, only to be told "it doesn't work that way." It wasn't her tissues expanding, but some complex physics even Psychon scientists didn't fully understand.

He then took her then to another lab, this one in the structure where Mentor's attack had breached and depressurized some rooms on three levels, killing Jane Clemens. This particular Zoology lab had been just on the other side of the bulkhead boundary and had been spared, unlike the rooms next to and beyond that lab.

He had been sad to hear of her tragic death, and if it had been between her or the animals, losing the animals would have been a small price to save a human life. Still, given what happened had killed Jane, unfortunately, he counted it fortunate the damage had not extended to Zoology Lab 7. After the Great Migration, this lab had been set up in someone's former quarters, and he had been careful to secure everything carefully, which was also good, in procedural foresight but also in hindsight, given the shaking this area had taken, and the amount of water which had nonetheless sloshed out of some aquariums. There were various animals, as with all of the zoological laboratories, as he had realized he didn't want to lose all samples of a species from just one room being destroyed, so each species was in 2-3 labs. Nonetheless, it was convenient to make each lab somewhat emphasize certain things. So besides this including more of some species he had already shown her, this room's primary focus was in being one of Alpha's two main fish breeding farms.

It would be years before the numbers were built up enough for food use, but it was considered one of several essential initiatives in Paul's Plan. He discussed the initiative, but avoided mentioning there was only one Protein Production Unit, currently.

Suddenly, he realized she had not given any of the fish species odd 'look' that let her to remotely metasense their structure. He asked about that.

"I looked at a lot of species, but reached a temporary limit on quantity," the Psychon stated.

"Oh. Hey, what if you reached in and touched them?"

"The method is different, but the limit is more fundamental."

"Oh. I was starting to wonder if your metasense gave you any sense of similarity to animals you might have seen on Psy... er, well, I am not sure how long your planet was...."

She got a sad look. "No one fully realized how much it was already dying before the first volcano became rapidly active, and that was when I was only partway into adolescence. So I saw a lot of nature before then." She recovered and moved away from the difficult topic, saying, "I cannot sense species boundaries or anything so specific. It does not work that way. Either such a perception is beyond metamorphic understanding, or is far too detailed for any conscious grasp. I can, though, as you suggest, sense similarities."

"Yes?"

She smiled patiently at enthusiastic curiosity so poorly hidden that she had no trouble noticing. She apparently understood it, since her own curiosity seemed to be intense. "About a third of what I saw, in simple vision or in metasense, seem very similar to species I've seen on Psychon. About a third are familiar as metamorphic examples. The other third are either less familiar to a degree that suggests I may have seen more distantly related species rather than the same or close species, or are essentially unfamiliar."

"Metamorphic examples?"

"Other Psychons transforming into them. If one transforms into something, the others can metasense the creature."

Now that, he had not considered. Spreading 'knowledge' by example -- familiar enough of a process even if in such an unfamiliar talent.

"Are lots of aquariums a suitable way to grow fish in large quantities in later phases of the project?" Maya asked.

It was a good question, and he covered that there were advantages and disadvantages to numerous aquaria vs. one or a few larger tanks -- perhaps even Alphan rooms converted for that purpose.

"How clever!"

"Yeah, I thought so when I heard someone first mention it. I had no idea the panels, which look rather thin, are so strong, but I guess reinforced plastic does add to the strength of Alpha, especially with hull breaches. Besides, that way we can keep our swimming pool for swimming."

"What?"

"An early idea of converting that hit a lot of resistance, and the officers even sought a different idea, probably feeling the swimming pool was good for health, psychological, and social reasons."

Strangely, he got the feeling she was unfamiliar with the swimming pool, despite having heard she and Tony had frequented two other gyms while her security situation was still in doubt. She apparently had need for regular exercise too.

His mind almost wandered over to wondering what Maya, who was tall and somewhat slim but still shapely and great-looking in a uniform, would look like in a bikini; but he quickly pushed aside the thought, instead jumping to something else.

"The swimming pool was retrofitted with relatively fast pumps and a grate system, to quickly but safely pull out water in emergency situations where the base might suffer quaking. That is the part of the hold-up with converting other rooms to pools, that we cannot pump out all water without killing the fish. I guess the Chief Architect is thinking that one of the remote research facilities be converted instead, or one of the more outer, less used and more easily isolated buildings of the main base. This is still a few years away, however."

The scheduled time period had already ended twenty minutes before. Pedro found he could have talked with the fascinating Psychon for hours more, but it was getting late for him, and Maya was starting to look downright tired. She was rumored to have a very good sense of time, so she had apparently felt like it was a good discussion to continue.

After she left, he felt like kicking himself for not following up more on the previous familiarity with what he would have termed 'Earth animals.' He had gotten sidetracked by several topics. It would have to be a conversation for another time.

Nonetheless, this conversation had left him plenty of fascinating information, as well as some curious questions from Maya he was not sure of the answer for, that had also gotten him to thinking a little.

R-381 DAB 1000-1800: Verb Tense

It was a small group that met Maya in an assembly area: Adam Bannion, a pilot'paramedic; Jim Haines, space'ship designer; and Carl van der Mir, electrical engineer. It was time for her to be a leader of a small group, something which still surprised her since she had first heard about it. The Commander had decided to assemble an Alien Ship Salvage exploration team again, and she was to be on it, as its leader -- at least this time.

All Psychons spent some time as leaders of small groups in school, but that was incomplete and a long time ago. For someone who had low expectations on arriving at Alpha, doing this only 37.1 days later was still rather unexpected. Having to order aliens around was stranger still. Yet she had accepted the assignment and some training on it, and it was time to use it.

She had been aboard the Satazius with the Commander twelve days ago. It was to be a different ship this time, a partially-explored Graktor wreck. Another such ship had captured four Alphans -- Paul, Victor, David, and Tanya -- only to be destroyed by other non-Alphan ships, with the Alphans on board.

Eagle 4 was ready, loaded by Service, readied by Technical, and checked off, with a walkaround, by Reconnaissance. It had the laboratory pod, with extra storage for retrieved items and extra boosters. It was the same Eagle which had brought her to Alpha.

All were dressed in spacesuits -- helmets off for now -- for what was to be a relatively short flight to 12.1 kilometers away.

They were all looking at her now. She almost froze at the stares, then rememberd a question. "The checklists are complete?" Each person nodded, and she was responsible for giving the go-ahead order. "Okay, then we may proceed." It didn't sound like the sort of orders that Captain Carter Pilot, Commander Koenig, or Chief Medical Officer Russell gave in their respective domain'spaces. Was she supposed to word it more strongly? Even though they followed, she wondered if she shouldn't choose a different Alphan verb tense next time, such as 'Proceed with the launch' or perhaps even just 'Proceed.' Polite but terse statements suited Maya too, but that was warring with a feeling that in this situation, and with her limited experience, it could seem overbearing. She felt like there was a contradiction in her thinking, but couldn't quite place it.

They traveled to the Eagle and boarded. Maya had found out that while having only one pilot was not uncommon, that if there was someone else with any flight knowledge, that person also sitting up front for parts of the flight was seen as prudent. So she followed the pilot and took the co-pilot seat. Fortunately, Adam greeted this action respectfully, while she respected the fact she was not yet a pilot. She simply observed Adam's actions, and the Eagle's reactions. Since it was a short flight, with no real time to move about the cabin, she remained in the seat until the space'ship -- spaceship -- was landed, also wondering why Jim Haines, a ship designer, didn't know how to fly, but realizing engineering was a complicated discipline that could be learned and practiced separately, as it often was on Psychon too.

When the Eagle landed, everyone was waiting for her orders again, and she got flustered, asking for more details before realizing they were all professionals, and that she was supposed to limit her concern over details to the most important. How did the Commander, the Doctor, and the First Officer make this seem easy? "If there are no final concerns, let us proceed." Now she had repeated the same verb tense again. If they thought her a poor leader already, they kept it to themsleves, put on their helmets, and checked spacesuit systems. This time, she thought ahead fast enough to give the simple "Depressurize" order once the checks were done.

Carl carried the small generator that would power the Alphan lighting already strung through part of the alien ship, even while adding more so Maya's team could explore further and more easily. He carried a long roll of more wire on the same arm. In his other hand was a box of analytical equipment, for the main purpose of the mission: exploration. Adam carried a box of lights, a camera, and a paramedic kit.

Once "aboard" the alien ship -- though she did not think the word aboard properly described picking their way onto a ship breached in numerous places -- she started feeling a little more comfortable, starting to scan parts of the ship. That was until she realized she wasn't tasking the others. After Carl had hooked up the generator, they were wandering aimlessly, looking at or scanning whatever they felt like.

She wasn't sure where to assign them. She had considered this, back on Alpha, but those had been estimations based on a few photographs and imprecise, very incomplete layout diagrams. Actually standing here was already making things look different.

"Ah, why don't we move about the ship, to gain the general visual of what's here." She picked around the debris, while Adam, who was rather strong, would occasionally set down his boxes so he could move some debris out of the way, once prompting Maya to tell him, "Please watch out for that internal sensor grid." It already looked damaged and perhaps destroyed, but more damage would not help anyone.

She began pointing at things that she could guess at, based on some very brief initial scans, while also stating what she was not sure about. As she went along, she also began amassing ideas about what each technical person could explore.

The ship was not like what the Commander had termed a 'colossus' like the Satazius, but was quite a bit larger than an Eagle. Indeed, this craft coincidentally sat at almost the perfect logarithmic middle between those two.

"Ship bay," Adam said at one point. It was open to space in two directions: missing its bay door, which seemed to be the large fragment some sixteens of meters away; but its superstructure above was torn wide open. A tiny one- or two-person ship sat ahead of them, crushed to a metaphorical pulp underneath part of the collapsed ceiling, which had then fragmented itself.

"One of these bays on another of these ships sucked in the Eagle holding Paul Morrow, Tanya Aleksandr, David Kano, and Victor Bergman," Jim stated.

That ship had been destroyed. This one remained. She had been asked if she recognized the ships of the Graktor or their enemy, from prior knowledge. She had not.

The humans stood quietly, silently remembering their lost friends, and she stood respectfully as well for a number of seconds, before moving away -- followed by Carl and then the rest -- to explore other parts of the bay, but finding little more than shattered ship parts and crushed computer terminals.

Then Maya requested they all proceed through the rest of the structure. The going was rough. Some paths had been previously cleared, but some additional collapse had occurred, and even with what had remained relatively open was full of awkward transitions from smooth floor, to bent floor, to no floor, having to find awkward places to step. One door was visible to a space not explored by the prior survey, but the going was--

"No, not there, Maya," Adam said at one point. "You're libel to tear your spacesuit, or if not yours, one of us may."

That was not good, in itself or for her failing to take notice. Practice, she tried reminding herself, but this felt like something awfully big to miss. "My apologies," she said. "Do you have another suggestion?" The Commander had not said to apologize, but it was what she was used to doing on Alpha. The other phrase had been one of the Commander's suggestions.

"Yes, this other way will also get us to forward sections."

"The path you suggest is blocked," Maya said, observing the closer door which was clearly jammed in its frame. She briefly thought if only she could transform into any of the vacuum-resistant creatures she knew; but they were beyond her current range....

"That is why I have a cutting torch," Jim stated.

His tone seemed impatient, but Maya was not sure, and asked him to proceed.

Maya glanced at Adam. He looked bored. So after a bit of thought, she recalled something, and said, "Would it be possible for you to find some non-electrical panels or something in case we need to make some path more passable?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Maya, please."

"Right. Maya. Will do."

When she looked at Carl, he was smiling a little. It was obvious he thought she was starting to understand this leadership task. Maya was not so sure, and shrugged lightly. He reached out and patted her shoulder.

While Jim's cutting continued, Carl pointed out some words on the hull or other equipment.

"Can you read them?" Maya asked, curious about the mysterious, partial gift of understanding of some alien languages the Alphans had apparently received. She already knew the aliens had been speaking a highly fragmented Alphan English, but was curious if the Graktor language, once the Alphans were exposed to some its writing directly, would be understandable.

"No, they just look like elaborate arcs and complicated spirals to me. Do you recognize them?"

She stated she had seen enough examples, but no recognition had come. Unlike the Bethan ship, which either had no Bethaen writing anywhere in it, or had had it burned away in the ship's destruction, and unlike Eagles, which had terse writing in quite a few practical places (though many lacked writing due to multi-use keys and overlays), this one seemed to have writing in odd places. Unlike the moonbase'city, it wasn't next to doors or on opening panels. It was just in very sporadic locations.

The current door was finally breached. Maya had briefly wondered why no Alphan had opened it before, but the initial survey had been incomplete due to other priorities. Like Psychon, she thought a little morosely. They looked inside, and it turned out to be group living quarters.

Adam, having heard the chatter, had returned, and Maya realized she had neglected to recall him, since he was supposed to remain with the group for any new part of the ship. She had to calm herself after thoughts that this was not going particularly well.

She moved ahead, pointing out more technological speculations, others offering guesses as well, as they went room by room. They finally reached what the Alphans most peculiarly had termed the bridge of the ship. Even trying to stretch some metaphors, she could not understand the naming. Unlike some hindsight understanding of metaphorically reused words like post and board, this seemed more like drill, purely word'sound reuse.

At just that point, her sense of timing informed her the first hour was over. Time to report in. Sandra accepted her call, and she started giving all the detail she had, until Sandra reminded Maya that not all that detail was needed yet. The call thus ended soon after.

The bridge systems were mangled beyond belief. It had been at the front of the ship, and though this ship wasn't broken in as many large chunks as the Satazius had been, some severe compression had occurred, especially at the front. Maya knew they were a few meters below lunar surface'level now. She wasn't sure anything could be recovered here, but resisted the urge at more than an initial scan, wanting to complete the initial survey.

They moved on, and saw another door, bent, which lots of hull pieces blocking their way there. They shined their flashlights, which did not flash and some Alphans called torches instead, into the space, but the angles were poor, and they could not see anything.

"This would take hours to clear," Jim estimated. "It might be quicker to return to the point we diverted, and cobble together an alternate approach. That could probably be done much faster than clearing the obstructions right here. At least I'm assuming that earlier path led to the the same room this door also does."

"I am almost certain it does," Maya stated. "That space may contain access to a computer'core or drive unit, which I have not seen yet. Besides that space, there must be a level below us."

The others agreed, so Maya instructed Jim and Adam to find a way to work on making a safe alternate passage to the same space. She was about to ask Carl to proceed on checking out some of the technology they had noticed, more closely, when she abruptly realized bridge was a perfect metaphor for such a room: it served to bring together internal ship details and external information gathered to form ideas of needed tasks. It bridged the inside and outside of a ship. There, now the Alphan word makes sense, at last.

"What is it, Maya?" Carl asked.

"Now I understand why Alphans call that sort of room the bridge."

"Well, explain it to me then, because I don't."

Maya was rather puzzled by that, but Alphan -- English -- was already a complex enough language, so there were probably parts even its native speakers did not necessarily understand. Psychon was complicated too, but in different ways.

So she explained, and he said, "Hmmph, not sure I've heard that before. Seems like a possibility."

They moved on, Carl drawing her attention to something he noticed: a recessed, cubic space, approximately 32 centimeters on a side. "It just looks like a small storage bin, but looks too advanced," Carl said.

Maya scanned it with the Alphan equipment, and she frowned as she used device after device, already wishing her own multiscanner were complete, even though it had its own limits too.

"I estimate it was a tiny instant'transport unit, to get small objects from here to other points on the ship quickly. I am not certain."

"Wow, clever if true. Any chance of repairing it?"

She inspected it with her own eyes, then concluded, "Highly doubtful."

"Maybe we'll find some more intact examples."

"Please look for more."

They looked at other things as well, Maya speculating on the devices, assigning confidence estimates too -- though a few she recognized directly, such as finding a badly-damaged tyrtzaldaza'zeeor, one of the more advanced hyperspatial multisensors in this part of the galaxy. There wasn't really anything it would have found of interest on Alpha, Maya thought -- the same reason she doubted she'd ever communicate with another Psychon again.

It also didn't explain why they were, in their broken English, demanding a ship -- or more likely ships as the Command had speculated. Was there something wrong with these Graktor ships? Maya remembered her linguistic misunderstanding of 'crack repair tech' mentioned in regard to Diane, Maya thinking this meant she repaired stress fractures. Were the unknown Graktor words written on odd places a sign of places of stress fractures before the crash? Had they been through something that had nearly torn them apart?

"Carl, did I see the stress analyzer in your pack?"

"Yes, though I'm not sure why it ended up in mine. I filled my own pack but left it open and someone from Service or Technical apparently saw that and stuffed it in mine."

"Can you scan wherever there are Graktor writings and see if there was stress underneath them?"

"I can, but are you looking for something other than the fact this whole ship is already compressed in various ways from the crash?"

"Yes." She shared her speculation.

Jim spoke from elsewhere on the ship. "We did already wonder if they were seeking replacement for their fleet of ships, but we didn't really see any signs of that."

Maya was going to give up the point, but as much as it might offend him, decided to counter anyway. "I am not an expert on ship construction, but I think it might be subtler damage."

"I think it is a waste of time. This whole ship is probably a mass of shock fractures."

She had to admit he was correct, and there was no sense wasting time. So she redirected Carl -- and herself -- to other tasks. After awhile, she checked for the progress on reaching the door from the alternate route, only to be given a grunt -- moving something heavy? -- and then a gruff "ten minutes." Still, the stress idea was bothering her, so she asked Carl to try the stress analyzer anyway.

Jim spoke again. "Maya, like Carl implied, that should have gone with my stuff. It was being repaired until the last minute and brought down separately. My point is that on seeing this ship, it was rather pointless that it ended up with anyone's stuff, because this ship is as much a mess in its own way as all the rest."

"I would still like someone to try."

"It would be a waste of my time, and is even more of Carl's because he's not as familiar with that scanner."

His point was perfectly logical, and her conclusion was as well. So why did it feel like she had lost some control she didn't realize she was supposed to have? Or was she overthinking the leader role? "Then can you please come up here to obtain the device and scan those places with writing that seems to serve no purpose?"

"I'm still working on getting to this other door."

"I meant when you are done."

"Why?"

Maya paused, feeling trapped. He had more expertise, but her curiosity was demanding an answer. Teamwork often meant seeking consensus. Team leadership sometimes meant giving orders. She struggled with the contradiction, thinking it sounded somewhere between wuibaziran and detraziran yet perhaps completely unique in implementation to the Alphans. Finally, she just remembered she was calziran now. She had considered his opinion, but she still wanted an answer and was the team leader.

"Because given the mission parameters as I understand them, this may be a useful datum to obtain. Actually, we are going to be moving your way, so Carl can bring the device and you can start with words found in strange places in that part of the ship."

"Fine," he said, sounding somewhat unhappy over the commlink.

They met at the opened door and proceeded inwards, Maya using scanners and sensors, initially to look for dangerous emissions from anything. She found some elevated readings, but nothing dangerous.

"Computer core," she said almost immediately on stepping inside. There could be little doubt of that fact. There could also be little doubt of another: apparently total damage. The system seemed to be largely photonic and based on crystals, and every one she could see was shattered.

"The walls are badly crumpled on most sides," Jim stated. "I think this whole room was meant to be almost a meter higher."

"We have a body over here," Adam stated.

This was a newly-breached space, so this was the first the body, in a spacesuit but its shape looking humanoid and perhaps female, had been found. Her spacesuit had suffered numerous punctures, probably from the shattering crystals. She'd undoubtedly been thrown against the wall during the crash, too. Her face was down and in the other direction, fortunately.

Maya had been briefed on this possibility as well, but it was still troubling. Then she recalled her duty -- and more orders from the Commander. "I will note the location. A forensic team will have to return at a later point. Please do not move any bodies unless they are in the way."

They fortunately found access to a lower level, almost completely dominated by a drive system, Maya scanning as they descended the stairway, finding everything was still safe. Adam strung another light.

"Destroyed," Maya soon said, after some initial visual and sensor analysis. The bottom of the ship had taken the worst compressive damage.

Another body was visible at a moderate distance.

They explored some more, finding a few more similar bodies. She could see one very human-looking male's face, frozen in surprise. Maya had had nightmares of being thrown into vacuum, but--

She felt Carl grab her arm gently and turn her away. She looked at him for a moment, in gratitude. He nodded slightly.

They reached the end of the drive'system'space, with generalized scans finding nothing intact. There would have to be more careful studies; but it was time to return to the Eagle for a break and a meal.

Once there, she reported back to base, including on finding alien bodies. Afterwards, she and the team talked more about what they had found so far, and to assign some more tasks, though she wasn't sure what to give to the pilot'paramedic. Jim was visibly unhappy about scanning for stress underneath what he termed the graffiti.

Adam asked how Maya thought the ship had flown, and she offered her best current estimate, to 64% probability.

"Huh, Captain Carter ought to find that interesting."

Is 'Captain Carter' the correct partial title+name formality? Maya abruptly wondered, having thought it might be Captain Carter Pilot. Then again, Alphans deployed terminology in lots of different ways.

Adam looked at her and added, "Maybe I should just cut away some other jagged edges and lay down some more panels at smaller trouble spots on the ship."

Maya could not think of anything else, so she agreed, warning that he should look for anything technological, to avoid damage -- or injury.

"He's been the one telling you safety first," Jim said.

If Maya had said this to an Alphan, she would have immediately realized it was disrespectful for her to say such a thing; but this was her first team lead role, so maybe it was okay for....

"Okay, enough of that," Carl said.

Somehow, Maya thought a leader shouldn't need this help either, though she still appreciated it. Then again, it was also a team. She was still caught in contradictions of how 'team' and 'lead' meshed. She would have to ask more questions of the Commander, Tony, and others -- assuming she would even be granted a leadership opportunity again, which she was doubting.

It was time to return to the Graktor ship. This time, she finally changed her verb tense, trying to salvage something of this mission. "Suit up, our break is over."

More analysis inside the ship followed, but little was intact. The stress analyzer found no particular pattern to whether the oddly-placed writing correlated to stress patterns. So it was a waste of time in the end, she thought, critically.

Maya met up with Carl and Jim to brain'storm how to salvage some slightly more intact computer and ship systems, today and in the future. The Alphans had not had much success in the past, and this did not seem more promising, but at least on this count Maya was not returning without something.

F-382 DAB 1500-1600: Limiting Scenarios

The scenarios were ending badly. June Washington had expressed doubt about being able to implement this complicated request, and it seemed to be coming true.

For more than a week, she and Douglas McLeod, the astronomer/physicist, had been tasked with coming up with a solution for Flight 3, the three strange new "Hauler" Eagles whose "pods" were being assembled.

The problem overall was simple: the Eagles, on arrival at the alien world called Kaskalon, would be out of range of communications with Alpha and Main Computer, which could coordinate with the Eagles if they were in range. Trying to do this on Eagle computer systems alone was looking bleak. It had seemed that way from the start, and further design was confirming it. An Eagle computer system was not designed with enough processor power. It was a much more complicated problem than normal flight, having to account for an unknown mass being pulled behind, thus needing course and throttle adjustments almost second-to-second until they hit the right velocity and vector to aim at a still-distant Moon, and avoiding sensitive spots like the Moonbase, remaining Nuclear Waste Areas, remote research facilities, Survey teams, and other sensitive areas.

There was no time to consider upgrading the Eagle hardware. That would be a complicated project with extensive design, development, and testing time, and significant risk if the job was botched.

Alphans were not risk-averse, and could slap things together; but when she and Douglas brought this concern to the attention of Captain Carter and Commander Koenig, they had expressed similar reservations.

"We may only be able to do this once or twice per Hauler Eagle, then, once the Moon catches up with the Eagles and is within communication range," Koenig stated.

"Better than nothing," Carter stated.

"We'll still get out several times the investment put in, and will still have these frames on hand for later use if needed," the Commander concluded.

Flight 3 had just gotten scaled down. June was not particularly happy, but it was realistically the only thing to do. It wasn't the way she wanted to end the work week, however.

A-383 DAB 1050-1130: Generics and Jokes

In what had become rare, Tony and Maya were eating together at a cafeteria. She had been eating alone in a cafeteria more often lately, especially when her meals landed her between more typical Alphan meal'times -- meal times. Though she was sometimes invited to share food at a table, sometimes she was not, and would end up eating alone even in a crowded cafeteria.

She had also started shifting a few of her meals that were already close to normal Alphan mealtimes to be closer still. Some of her meals had already been very close, and some would stay pretty far, but a few she could shift a bit. That had netted her a few more shared meals, but not always.

She sometimes worked up the nerve to ask at the tables of those she knew better, but if they were seated with others she did not know well or that she knew distrusted her, she quietly avoided contact. Half of those times, she would even decide to take her food back to her quarters or her lab instead; the other half, she'd take a table alone. In some of the latter cases, someone would eventually stop and ask if he or she could sit with her. On infrequent occasion, Maya would work up the nerve to signal someone over -- at least if they appeared to have arrived alone and did not seem to be looking for someone else. All this randomness was leaving her alone more than she liked, but also guilty for expecting so much.

She knew she was a distinct outsider here, whereas on Psychon, there were groups of greater vs. lesser friendship or acquaintanceship, but little in the way of serious conflict or ostracism. Here, even as she felt welcomed by some, but ignored by most or feared by some.

Tony was a curious case. Though one of many examples of someone who had started with little trust of her yet seemed to treat her with less and less suspicion as time went on, it felt especially good coming from him. Somehow the fact that she was perhaps winning him, of all people, over to her warmed her heart the most. At times, though, she wondered if something else was involved, since she had found herself looking more at him in a different way too.

That he no longer needed to escort her around the base felt good, both in regard to Tony's fading suspicion and Alphans' as a whole. Yet as good as all that was, and as much as she initially enjoyed her not having to constantly be with someone from Security, she had soon found herself wishing the particular someone from Security would want to be around her more than just these occasional meals.

Of course, he was still jogging and training her on some martial arts, which was welcome, so once again, she decided she was happy to accept what she had. Yet her thought that maybe she could take more initiative to arrange a meal with him, as she was starting to do with others, might help. It had netted this meal. "Oh, okay, sure," had been his response. Not exactly overwhelming, yet with some enthusiasm -- as far as she could tell.

They had scarcely sat down when Alan appeared, and he drifted over. Maya curiously found herself of a mixed mind about him sitting down, but was also happy to accept the company of another friend.

Maya started preparing one of her favorites. The Alphan meal line usually put bread near the end and salad near the start. The leaves were not cut up small enough anyway, so she did that here, added an ingredient she varied each time -- this time it was a little bit of mashed potatoes -- mixed it up, pushed the bread underneath the salad, added a little milk to the bowl (acetic and lactic acids went well together), and then sodium chloride.

When she looked up, she found Tony munching away on his salad, unconcerned since he'd seen her make bread'salad variants before. Alan, however, was looking at her oddly.

"What, never her seen her make bread salad before?" Tony said through half a mouthful.

"No."

"She who would not eat your grub aboard Eagle 4 is the Mistress of Alien Combinatorics," Tony said.

"Huh?" Alan asked. "Oh."

"Curry on her pancakes. Oatmeal mixed with raisin bran. Ham and oatmeal. Fried flies over linguini."

"I do not," she protested quietly but firmly, yet half wanting to smile.

"Which part?" Alan asked.

"I do not eat fried flies," Maya stated.

"Lead salts on her rice. Frog soup. Soapy soup."

"Tony, I do not eat frog soup or soap."

"I can't seem to convince her to try croutons and save herself half the trouble of bread salad."

"I have tried them. Not the same."

Alan was smiling, and so was Tony for that matter. Tony had said strange things early on, when he was more suspicious of her, but that had mostly disappeared. Was he reverting? Or maybe mocking her? Part of her wondered if he had a sense of humor, but that did not seem like Tony, who had alternately protected and scrutinized her for so long, who had been more and more nice over time yet suspicious at times. There were a lot of times when he said something that she wanted to believe was said in humor, but she had found herself afraid of laughing at such on the chance it wasn't, and that he would take offense.

Tony, despite seeing flashes of some sense of humour in Maya, was again disappointed to find there was little outward sign of it. She took so many things so seriously, whether he was joking about some procedure on base, lightly about someone else, or lightly about her.

One could not teach a sense of humour, he thought. Lena had not had one at all, other than an occasional sarcastic quip or a rare light-hearted one. Maya showed more signs than Lena, but still.... Yet he wanted to try again, and this time tried a different angle.

"So, Maya," Tony started, "I noticed some time back that you found it rather surprising about us wanting to use the name Kaskalon, rather than calling it Bridge World."

She had that deer-in-headlights look again, like she had been caught, well after the fact in this case, in a reaction she had not wanted to express, even non-verbally. Well, now I definitely want to hear what she was thinking, he thought, still hoping to draw out an honest comment about what she surely had to think were the 'odd Earthlings.' There was no way she wasn't having such thoughts, and he had seen enough surprised or bemused responses on her face, but could recall very, very few comments. Tony thought they might be funny -- or more seriously, perhaps revealing of her true thought processes.

Alan seemed ready to join in, and after some more jokes, eventually managed to cajole it out of her: "I... don't understand why you would call your planet Earth, which in a different context can mean simply dirt -- but then find my translation of Bridge'world as too generic, and wish to use the Psychon word Kaska'lon instead, thinking it sounds better?"

She looked at them a little nervously, but Alan and Tony's guffaws seemed to relax, if puzzle, her. Tony affected an exaggerated accent. "Ye do have a point about the Queen's High English, mi Psychon lady: it instills ye odd habits in its speakers."

She shook her head a little, drawing Tony's attention to her hair briefly. "But now you are using a Psychon word while I still occasionally use an Alphan word."

"So?" Tony said, with a smile. "Call it a little cultural exchange."

She smiled then, and said, "Okay."

Alan could see her puzzlement fade into gratitude, but still with a look of bemusement.

Tony got called away on a security matter, leaving him alone at this table with Maya.

Conversation drifted to questions Maya had about Eagle flight, and Alan found himself wondering why Maya was almost always so serious, when it seemed like she wanted more than that. He thought it remarkable that she kept such an even keel at all, but it seemed she was holding back.

Into the pause, Maya changed the subject. "Alan, I do not eat flies, frog soup, or soap."

Alan laughed. "Well, don't take it so seriously. You know Tony's sense of humor, after all."

Maya looked at Alan. "Tony has a sense of humor?"

Alan was astonished that she was so earnestly surprised. The way she said it made it clear she would welcome Tony's humor. No wonder they did not seem to click. Either Tony had shown her little or none of his sense of humor, or she had been so serious all the time that she failed to notice or was not sure of his intent. It was probably a mix of factors.

"Oh, that may explain some things," Maya eventually said. "A lot of things, perhaps," she added some seconds later, with an odd little smile.

Suddenly, he wondered if he hadn't created a headache for Tony. If this bright lady really did have more of a sense of humor, just covered up by shock and nervousness, Tony might be in for a surprise.

"So when Tony mentioned grub, maybe I should have joked about Alphans eating larval insects?"

Alan laughed. Even as a question about a potential joke, it still seemed to amount to Maya making a joke. "Sure."

"I don't want to mock anyone."

"Well, you do have to find how tolerant someone is. Tony and I can always appreciate a good joke--"

"I am not sure I'd have a good joke for a long time."

"... or a good effort," he said, even as he wondered if the wheels were now turning in Maya's mind.

He was rather surprised that Maya liked Tony at all, considering he was still sometimes acting like he didn't fully trust her, something Alan doubted Maya had failed to notice. Tony was a smart enough bloke; he'd figure out that she was okay, and Maya seemed to be dealing with things just fine, a little at a time, yet with a lot of tolerance. No sense pushing either of them around to be friends.

With Alan's dropping into excessive musing, Maya then turned serious, turning the conversation to Eagle training and the simulator session coming up in the afternoon.

A-383 DAB 1300-1400: Inspection

John didn't know why Saturday was becoming something of 'moonbuggy day' in his schedule of late. Three of the last four Saturdays had included a moonbuggy trip somewhere. Once to inspect some of the damage repair from the outside with Karedepoulos and others, once with Maya to the remains of the Satazius to introduce her to salvage discussions, and now with Jim Haines to a site elsewhere in the crater floor to look at the unique new Eagle 'pods' taking shape. Jim had long known how to drive moonbuggies, and had been doing a lot lately for this project, so John opted to drive this time, to keep himself in practice.

Much had happened in the last two weeks, since that moonbuggy visit to Satazius. Maya had led a mission to a Graktor ship and found a few interesting things, and had shown potential in leadership, despite her own excessively self-deprecating report. Sandra's realization of what 'ring of station' might be, and all of the new planning which had exploded from there, including a strange new Eagle 'pod' being constructed.

A design for the new pod, very close to Jim's back-of-the-'napkin' drawing, had ended up being the final draft, and had been approved. The assembly was too large to go up a hangar lift, so they had to be constructed outside, and rather than take up three Eagle pads, special yet simple mounts had been designed and constructed as well, with construction taking place on top of them.

Some intact lengths of suitably-usable beams had been secured from the Satazius. Though alien alloys, including from that ship, had become notoriously difficult to work using human techniques, some metal beams and some techniques had been found for this relatively simple design purpose, and work progressed. All three 'pods' were reasonably far along, but one pod, which Jim drove to first, was the furthest, and getting the most focus, so it could be flight tested soon.

It had the small, hollow, 'box' girder, oddly colored yellow, to which attached the two silvery beams, one in front of the box, one in back, each beam sticking out to both sides. Two beam ends starboard served as two attachment points for another, longer beam running parallel to where the Eagle would be, and another long beam parallel on the port side. The back endpoints of each of the long, parallel beams would serve as mounting points for chains, and for more short beams to reach up and in from the sides of the engines to above, to provide the vital third chain-mounting point. Those final short beams were being worked on now, Alpha's sole outside mobile crane -- another would be built soon -- was assisting with that as John inspected the scene.

It was a strange, relatively simple, and useful-looking pod design that would have raised eyebrows back on Earth. There were other, far different, machines purpose-built for large-mass hauls; but none had been assigned to Alpha itself at any point in 1999. A year later, when renewed construction was to start adding further to Alpha, some might have been temporarily on site.

He ruefully mused that with this being September 30, 2000, some initial work would have probably been starting tomorrow, had they stayed safely in Earth orbit. Alexander Karedepoulos would have been very busy with new construction, rather than overseeing repairs or doing spot inspections on other, not-even-architectural work like the new pods.

John might not have been Commander then, since it was pre-Breakaway problems that had gotten him assigned. Then again, Command of Alpha was not meant to be a permanent tour of duty, and he might have been next in line after Gorski even without Breakaway.

John soon dropped those 'what if' thoughts about Earth. He was not on the habit of dwelling on those sorts of things about the past; there was plenty to do now.

He asked some questions, received more information, then got to his final main concerns. "How soon will the first be ready for flight tests?"

"Days. Mid-week, most likely."

Shoot for Tuesday morning. We need to get one of these rigs in the air."

"For testing, I know. Yes, sir, we will try."

"Remember mission launch is in eleven days; but we need flight testing on the other two as well. The second needs to be done on Friday, the last on Monday."

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, sounds and looks good so far." John was not always the most effusive with compliments, especially while final results were not in, but this was the young man's first role in actually leading a team, and so far, he seemed to be handling it well, with more maturity than he had shown in prior situations.

It was disappointing that they'd not get as much work at Kaskalon as expected, but at least they could still be used for some hauls there, and maybe other kinds of hauls later.

He left Haines at the site, heading towards the moonbase section damaged by Mentor over forty days before. Karedepoulos was to meet him out there for a final look before repressurizing. Technically, it was the architect's sign-off that counted, but given the earlier inspection of damage, this was still a good review. Helena had speculated that after inspecting initial damage, that inspecting later or final stages of repair was probably a good balance for John. He thought that she might have a point.

S-384 DAB 1840-1950: Main Observation

It had occurred to Tony that there were some spots on Alpha which Maya had not seen, and Main Observation was one of them. She might have wandered up there on her own at one point, but she seemed to be hesitant about such things, so he set aside some time for Sunday, and had talked to Maya.

When Sunday came, he recalled he had really spent little time there. Maybe he wasn't the best person to show her -- or shouldn't be the only one. He asked just a few people, and ended up with Alan, Sandra, and John.

All Maya had known before was that Tony was going to take her some place she had not seen before. Though each of Tony, the Commander, Sandra, and Alan had taken her around to introduce her to various places, the sudden presence of all of them at once struck her as something welcome, yet unusual, for they seemed a mix of excited and solemn at the same time. She stayed quiet, not wanting to ask a foolish question about something that was clearly of some significance to them, but instead wait to see and be shown what it was.

After some travel in an elevator and a little walking, they reached a door labeled Main Observation, which she remembered was the place dedicated during the Breakaway Commemoration ceremony 18 Alphan days before. The camera view that day had been narrow, focused on the Commander and subsequent speakers. She knew it had to be a moderately large room, maybe like a cafeteria in size.

When the door opened and they walked in, she saw an immense room, two floors tall, and spanning a distance like no enclosed room she had seen since early adolescence. They were standing in a slightly lower portion of the first level, with four steps at a moderate distance ahead and to the right of her. To her immediate right sat a single console which appeared inoperable. The room's walls were nearly bare, but some showed extensive evidence of power couplings or data connections that were neatly capped off, no longer in use. There were many windows to her left at the main level, and apparently more windows on the upper level to her right.

No one said anything, splitting off somewhat, so Maya simply started exploring, thinking they evidently wanted to hear her thoughts, or just suddenly too wrapped up in thoughts of their own to explain.

Near some of the windows were a few seats, and one was occupied by a man reading a book, while a baby slept in his lap. He scarcely looked up, and she looked away, fearing he too would react negatively if she looked at his child. A couple more people were upstairs, staring out the window at the still somewhat distant but now dominating Alk^inharda Veil, which was still in the days-long process of rising over the horizon. These three people, whom Maya had already met, barely even acknowledged the Commander's presence, which surprised her.

She soon realized this was actually two rooms, separated partially by two short walls and a large door or barrier that was open. The other room seemed to have some other purpose, and she wandered that way. It looked like a large meeting room or office of some sort at one time, with more windows to the left. In this part of the area, there were paintings and sketches hanging from long strings. They were of people, some of whom she recognized from other pictures she had been shown. Professor Victor Bergman, Paul Morrow, David Kano.... There was a viewscreen, paging through pictures of planets and other views of space.

She recognized the back wall as the out-of-focus backdrop behind the Commander when he had been displayed on the monitor in Maya's quarters, while he had been speaking at the Commemoration/Dedication. What had this place been before a few weeks ago?

She found a list of names engraved onto a polished stone that was sitting on the desk. They were names of the people who had died. There was a small set of flowers standing in a vase next to the stone, but far enough away not to obscure anything, and on the other side of the flowers from the first stone was another stone of equal size and shape, but with fewer names -- only ten, four of whom she recognized, with a small gasp, as victims of Mentor. Tony looked over at her, but she composed herself and shook her head to him -- and herself, trying to remind herself of what they kept frequently reminding her, that it was not her fault; even if she felt it still was in her incapacity to listen to the Commander the first time that had cost more lives.

A globe of Earth sat on the floor nearby. There were no divisions shown on this globe, just lots of little dots with two or three letters -- people's initials she guessed -- on it. It was not gathering dust, nor was anything else in here. The environmental system saw to most of the dust removal, but she could tell people took the effort to remove what little remained, not wanting it to accumulate.

The whole two-room area was, despite the open nature, divided into two almost separate emotional halves: one a memorial area in the former office; and one, aside from the single console still standing, that was not as clearly a memorial area, though it was not entirely clear to her what, despite the relaxed presence of others. A place for contemplation and relaxation?

She wandered back towards the first room, and from the in-between ground, looking up at a large, almost square hole in the opposite wall, up high, at the same height and size as the Big Screen in.... Maya abruptly realized for certain what this all had been. "This was once Command Center, and your office, Commander?" she said in a nearly-whispered half-question, half-answer.

"Yes," Commander Koenig replied in a slightly louder voice, indicating it was not a funeral, despite the quiet of the place. "Main Mission, it was called, originally named in reference to this facility's original charter mission, kept as this base's main mission became main missions, and kept even after Breakaway, when our main mission was simply to survive and try to stay intact as a people."

She looked around again, trying to imagine the buzz of activity, part of Main Computer's interface taking up much of a wall, of more consoles for people to sit at. The single console stood there as a reminder of the latter, yet she noticed again the other people, one more now joining them, just looking out over the moonscape and into space, or simply relaxing.

"It is still a beautiful place," Alan explained. "Most of us still like to come up here from time to time to get the big picture of our surroundings, to relax, read, chat, or to remember and contemplate."

"It is not entirely a sad place," Sandra added, "but it is in part because so many who worked here are now gone."

After a pause, the Commander added, "It is often a place for contemplation, whether of people lost or just in general."

It had been both an easy decision and a difficult decision to move from Main Mission to Command Center. The memories were a mix of good and bad, but there were a lot of memories.

At first, there had been no idea what to do with the decommissioned space. The Computer components and most of the consoles had been removed, along with virtually everything else. The Earth globe had been brought downstairs and stuck in a corner of John's now much smaller, rather stuffed office. Main Mission was left essentially empty, slowly gathering the small amount of dust not captured by environmental systems -- and collecting some half-joking comments about how no one wanted to see it turned into a cornfield, storage area, or just about anything else.

A suggestion had been to turn the whole thing into a memorial space, but John had immediately rejected it as too sentimental to dedicate such a huge space at the highest level to an oversized dirge, and others had agreed it would almost be disrespectful to what the area had been. Controversy had erupted, so he had turned over the whole mess to a committee, to debate both a memorial and what to do with Main Mission.

About a week later, they came up with something remarkably elegant, and on Day 339, they submitted their suggestion, called Main Observation, to the officer corps. Just the former office would be converted to a memorial space, with pictures of the deceased, some of the worlds they had visited, and where on Earth they and everyone else had come from. For the last, they requested John to donate the globe, which had been the Commander's globe since Alpha's inception. The former two-floor Main Mission, aside from the office, would be converted to a simple activity place, to overlook the breadth of their base, the lunar landscape, space beyond. It could be used to look at the view, to relax, read, chat, remember, or contemplate. A simple social or personal space. The doors which had sometimes closed to separate the Commander's Office from the rest of Main Mission would remain open, permanently.

One space for remembering the deceased, and one for the living, each space open to the other.

The proposal had also suggested Main Observation could be used -- and even dedicated -- during the then-upcoming Breakaway Commemoration. Memorial services could be held here too, though they suggested keeping funerals in the chapel.

It was more elegant in its simple division and fusion, and somehow, felt more... Alphan.

John Koenig had thought it a remarkable, balanced idea. So had the rest of the depleted command corps, including its relatively new member, Tony Verdeschi. The only thing the command corps had insisted on was the same Max 50 rule applied to any other single large room in the base. Having too many people up in Main Observation at any one time, even if it was no longer a command location, would be an awful lot of exposure, not unlike what had driven the commissioning of Command Center, decommissioning of Main Mission, and the swap of many upper level quarters downlevels in the prior weeks.

With that one new provision, it was approved immediately. The committee immediately renamed itself as the Main Observation Committee. They had started work that day, and, interrupted for only a few days during the Psychon encounter, and had quietly carried out the changes, gathering pictures of the deceased, asking for volunteers to paint some more so everyone would be represented. Not all paintings were complete by Commemoration/Dedication, so pictures had been used instead; but all those were replaced now.

John had even taken inspiration from the memory+living fusion when writing the Breakaway Commemoration speech, or more accurately in his choosing to have both the dead and the living listed by name.

John looked again at the space that had been his office. His former desk, too large for his much smaller office downlevel, did not really seem his own anymore. Except for the desk and the globe, nothing remained inside the room as he had known it.

He turned away, back into the larger part of the space. "Come upstairs," he said to everyone, but Maya in particular. "Take a look."

They all came together at the stairs, and climbed them to the upper level, where a couple stood staring out of the window at the end furthest from the stairway.

Maya immediately gravitated towards the nearest window, soon commenting, "Ohh, it really is a beautiful view."

Tony smothered a snide remark about it being metal moonbase, grey moonrock, and hostile space. Maya seemed to have a knack for finding the good in just about anything, starting from 'hospital' food to this now. She was stuck indoors for so much of her life she seemed fascinated by long-distance views. Maybe he should have brought her here before.

Though Tony had visited Main Observation twice since it was dedicated, he came mostly for the memorial space, and only a little bit for the view. Something about Maya's appreciation made him wonder if he wasn't giving it much of a chance.

After a minute, Maya suddenly gasped, and she turned away from the one window and quickly walked back down the stairs, over towards the opposite wall, Tony following almost on her heels, John and the rest following. Looking back for a moment, Tony could see even the couple up there turned to see what Maya's commotion was about. She walked to the nearest window and unerringly looked out of it in a certain direction even before she reached the window proper. Tony reached it, next to her, then John on the other side, Sandra and Alan behind them.

Tony looked at Maya's face, then followed her gaze. Out there, just barely above a lunar mountain, were two stars, not visually separated by that much. One was reddish, that he could guess was Half Star, on a similar angle to the second star but much closer, for it was obvious what that second, more distant, normal-colored star had to be....

"Psychon's sun?" Tony asked gently, having noticed she had known exactly where to go and look, probably having calculated, in a split second, positions and lunar rotation and all those vectors or 'arrays' or whatever in her mind, just to find her former sun. The gasp likely from realization it was about to set out of Alpha's sight.

Maya nodded tightly, otherwise just staring, as the sun she had known all her life was now so distant, further away from her than at any previous point in her life. As a child, she had traveled with her parents, Mentor and Taylia, some moderate distance into interstellar space a few times, before everyone had become occupied regarding Psychon's decline, and some started building much larger ships. This journey was so very different, with alien but mostly-welcoming company. She was leaving home'space, never to return.

It was a very strange feeling to Maya, feeling part of her heart left so far away, yet a growing part of her heart here among aliens who had become her friends. They had no reason to take kind interest in her star, where they had lost four of their own, yet still they stood around her, silently, respectfully, supportively. Though respecting the star, it wasn't the star they cared about, but her, she realized.

The Commander finally broke the silence, very gently. "What is its name?"

Maya did not look away as she solemnly answered: "Psyoliyask." She paused, then continued. "It is a very ancient word, probably from before recorded history, though we know it was a fusion of the Old Psychon phrase, Psychon'da Liyasla Sasskas, meaning Psychon's Lifegiving Warmth."

Tony repeated the words, Psychon and English, then commented, "Beautiful name."

She didn't let herself be surprised, but simply accepted his words with a little nod, still staring at her home'star.

No one left her side, and after another minute, Maya silently put her hand to the window, as if trying to let its feeble light warm her hand, even if only symbolically. Seconds later, it abruptly blinked out, having set over the lunar crater wall mountain. She thought it likely -- she hoped -- she would see it again, on Bridge'world and/or the flights there and back.

Without a word, but heavy-hearted except for the feeling of support from her friends, Maya turned and moved away, returning to the upstairs windows on the opposite side, where the Commander had asked her to come before, this time to look not so much at Alpha and Moon below, but at the spreading Alk^inharda Veil and Shepherds above -- and ahead -- of them.

No one had words of comfort for Maya's sadness, but they knew the feeling well. They had watched Earth's Sun fade into a bright star, before the first space warp had whisked them so far away it could only be found in telescopes, then be untraceable after they went through the Black Sun. Only they had traveled away as three hundred, to console each other, while Maya was leaving her star behind as the sole Psychon here. She felt this pain alone as a Psychon, yet shared in the presence of others as an Alphan.

Everyone turned their attention to the Alkinarda Complex, now enormous in breadth, even only partly-risen. Maya spoke. "Despite its known destructiveness and the half-lost myths surrounding it, part of me had always admired the the Alk^inharda Complex as so beautiful even at its much smaller size at home. To see it from here, so close, even knowing what it Veils...."

"It does look so beautiful," Sandra said.

"Like cotton candy sprinkled with blue diamonds," said an Alphan woman who had been standing with a man by the window at the end of the balcony.

"Cotton candy?"

Maya listened to the explanation and nodded quietly, still looking at the sight.

No one had to remind anyone else that the Veil hid not beauty, but a space-rending ugliness, which according to this "neighborhood's" legends was created during a titanic war. Nor that the Moon and everyone aboard was heading into some part or another of it.

Yet for the moment, the Veil was living up to its name, and the Shepherds looked like just that.

"Is that Red Sun?" Alan asked. "Just a few Shepherd stars to the left of that mountain?"

Without visible hesitation, Maya confimed.

Red'sun, pronounced Ayi'ry in Modern Psychon, was actually brighter than Psyoliyask now, but looked far less impressive, almost hard to find, largely because of the contrast of much brighter stars and huge bluish nebula behind it. Even as they watched, further below and to the right, another Shepherd suddenly snapped into view as it rose above the lunar mountain. It was still a pinpoint of light, still a star, but already bright.

"Look at the Alkinarda Rapids," Tony said, unaware he was reminding Maya of where the Moon could have been safely traveling towards, if only she had acted earlier....

The 'Rapids' had been the first to rise, but were actually at the trailing end of the Alkinarda Complex as it slowly moved through space. Tony thought it was so strange that the nastiest-looking part of the Alkinarda, aside from the austerely but dangerously-luminescent Shepherds, was actually the safest part of the whole complex. Going through the Veil was going to death. Their hope lay in the Red Sun system.

"Suddenly, I see why Red Sun is a sufficiently descriptive name," John said quietly. "Against all the blue, it looks so out of place."

They stood there for a little bit, staring calmly at what could be their undoing, all knowing they would have some struggle ahead of them. Somehow, they would either have to get the Moon across the Bridge, or Eagles if necessary, or go to lifeboat Eagles this side of the complex, or try to settle on a not very hospitable husk of a world called Kaskalon, or Bridge World.

"If that mess," Tony started saying, "so many dozens of light years across, is truly the remains of a war, I'm beginning to understand why some of the races around here call those former powers the Star Giants. I cannot imagine what could have created it."

"It's odd that none of us thought to ask, but what about that, Maya?" John asked. "What sort of power could create, intentionally, or via battle, or by accident, something so deadly and so huge, spanning across so much space?"

"If you are asking what technology, then something far more advanced than Psychon technology. It is known the galaxy has ancient, quiet powers, best left alone, in certain spots. Most are poorly understood, and if you see their technology demonstrated, it is probably for unwelcome reasons, and you most likely will not learn much about how they do it."

"Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic," Sandra quoted.

"Yes, that is an appropriate metaphor in one way. A clever way of stating it."

"Not my words, but an author from Earth, named Arthur C. Clarke."

"We know what you mean by ancient powers," Alan said. "We ran across some in our own galaxy as well. I wish to hell some of them had simply left us alone."

"We were sometimes in their space," John reminded the rest.

"I know, but I doubt it was that difficult for them to understand our situation. Yet some still chose to interfere."

After that point, there was little to be said. So they headed back to the main level, and after they passed through the doors, John mentioned the capacity limit, and that it was off-limits during Yellow and Red Alerts, a more recent command decision.

This all seemed to make Maya puzzled. "Please forgive my impertinence for asking, but why all these rules? Why did you remove command from here in the first place?"

"Those are good questions, not impertinence. The answers are related. Main Mission was too vulnerable. It was a perfect place while in Earth orbit, and we kept working through here for most of a year after Breakaway, but realized partway through that first year how hopelessly exposed this location was during many of the dangers we face. After that we reached that conclusion, we almost immediately began setting up Command Center, deep inside the lowest main level, as some partial improvement in the situation, though it took until a couple months ago to make the transfer of all systems and command functions from here to there."

"You are right, Commander. I had helped Mentor in initial scans, before I knew his true purposes, and...."

She suddenly stopped, apparently feeling as though she felt she shouldn't have said any of that. She got no glares from Alan or Sandra; but Tony, while not glaring, looked a bit annoyed as he asked, "And...?"

"We noticed the room and its central, prominent, high-level location; but finding few life signs there, thought nothing more of it."

"Did you find a probable command location?" Tony, ever the security-conscious officer, asked Maya.

"I only ran initial scans before Mentor he sent me to study automated recordings of your travel towards our system. I did not think he had a reason to run more than a typical scan."

"Why not?" Tony blurted.

"Deeper scans can be perceived by many as a hostile act, even with embedding an eepkond'arak signal," she explained, while looking a little hurt. "A more superficial sweep is typically expected, though."

"Like two people who meet the first time," John observed, trying to defuse what sounded like an escalating conversation.

Tony, however, missed his attempt to divert the course of the conversation. "Do you think your father detected we had limited scanners, that we probably couldn't even detect your scans, and maybe went deeper?" Tony continued, insistently, maybe even with a hint of anger.

"I do not know," Maya said, quietly, her eyes barely meeting Tony's, and not meeting anyone else's. John already knew Maya had a strong sense of guilt over what had happened, that she largely had in check, and that John and Helena had both kept in check by reassuring her she was not to blame. Tony seemed to be bringing those feelings right up into Maya's eyes, which filled with haunting shame which Tony didn't seem to notice.

"What about--"

"Okay, Tony, she answered your questions," the Commander snapped, annoyed that Tony would still see the need to badger her on certain points, like he was still missing the interrogation that had never happened, despite everything she had been trying to prove in the meantime. Sometimes Tony, in looking for subtle negative points, could miss the obvious positive of something, even when he had been coming to recognize the latter. If it was frustrating for John to see, it probably had to be even more frustrating to poor Maya.

Tony held his tongue, and there were several seconds of silence, until John started giving a little of the background of leading to Main Observation. Maya showed a little more interest as he went through the description, but offered no further observations of any kind, obviously feeling a little put-off by Tony's reaction to her last offering.

Finally, John, not sure if it would help or was a ham-handed move that would do nothing, invited the current group to his quarters for a meal. Everyone accepted, and he had one called in, while Tony went to his quarters to get another chair for the table, for the five of them.

The meal seemed to ease tensions, and Maya was eventually back to looking everyone, even Tony to a degree, in the eye, and Tony was back to making jokes, which seemed to lighten Maya's mood further. There was no doubt: the Psychon was fast to recover, had a sense of humor lurking in her, and obviously always appreciated a meal with others. It was still a somewhat more muted meal, but the mood was nonetheless improved over half an hour before.

M-385 DAB 0610-0620: Holding Back but Hitting Hard

Maybe it was a feeling of guilt. Part of Tony's upbringing mixed with John's clear irritation over Tony's behavior. He didn't think of it much during the day, but it was a particularly disturbing dream the next morning.

As on the day of Psychon's destruction, he dreamt of seeing Mentor's sneering, laughing face, Tony trying to punch him hard in the face, but Mentor always dashing back or -- in a new twist -- Tony's fist hitting a forcefield. Try as he might, Tony could not land a punch on the "real" Mentor, until the forcefield faded away. Tony's next punch looked like it would connect, but Mentor faded away like a hologram, only for the punch to still land... on Maya.

He jolted awake, remembering instantly, and feeling more than a little shocked, guilty, and troubled.

He did not want to hurt her. He had even started to trust her, or more than just started.

That, he realized after awhile, was perhaps the problem. He had long trusted her -- based on John's word. Tony had never really gotten around to coming to his own trust of her. Well, he had, but never entirely, not about how she might have helped Mentor, about her potential as an officer on Alpha, or about her intriguing yet alien mix of warmth, metamorphosis, brilliance, and naiveté. She was easy to figure out in some ways, and so strange in others. It wasn't necessarily full-blown suspicion or distrust, but his own mixed signals, of wariness and welcome.

Perhaps he had been hurting her in the process, that despite all the time he had spent helping her adjust, she probably still sensed vague qualms from him, and that if she could not convince him, how was she going to convince all the rest spending a fraction of the time with her that Tony had?

It was a sobering thought, that he might be holding her back, making her feel more alien than she already was. Maybe he was even punishing her in a sense. It was troubling; but at first, he didn't know what to do.

M-385 DAB 1430-1945: First Free Flights

As Alan prepared for today's final class and simulator training sessions, he found it difficult to pick between Sandra and Maya for who he would announce as getting first flight. Both trainees had scored about the same in the written tests given last week. Both had improved in simulator work over the last two weeks, and were now well within the range of being ready for a true flight.

In Alan's system, First Flight would be two Eagles, one for each trainee, even though only one trainee would fly at a time, both with Alan as a co-pilot. Bill would pilot the other Eagle, which would allow the non-flying trainee a chance to watch the flying one as well as her own pilot. Then they would switch, the women staying in their Eagles, Alan moving to the other Eagle to co-pilot the new pilot, and Bill to pilot again. The fact of there being two Eagles would allow quick response in case the new pilot got in trouble, and there was a crash that Alan could not prevent, such that Bill could fly in immediately. A Rescue Eagle was on standby on a pad.

This system was all of Alan's invention, for Level 1 pilot training had not occurred on Alpha until after Breakaway. He had written the book.

Who was to be first flyer of the two trainees was a decision, not a matter of randomness. He did not choose it as a matter of recognition -- as much as some of the trainees had taken it as such anyway. Instead, it was who might set the most interesting example -- good or "bad" -- in real flight. There was no bad example, really, or he would not take such an individual -- or actually either class member -- out for flight until that person was ready. Alan had soon realized there was some benefit to picking the first to be one who might present some interesting "do this" or "don't do that" tendencies to the second first flyer.

Alan had found Sandra and Maya to both be, for very different reasons, the two most unique trainees. Sandra was much more of a quiet type, with some decent drive but very little aggressiveness. Maya was so fact- and calculation-driven that she had tended to be unusually aggressive on an Eagle, even more than some of the more reckless guys, despite how tentative she had tended to be otherwise. Hers was not recklessness per se, at least not as the usual personality trait, but as someone who relied on such a numeric, technical approach, that she kept trying to push close to every safety limits she had learned. She had eventually backed off that, with surprising abruptness until he had guessed maybe she just set up more equations or such in her mind, a second set of "normal" vs. "ultimate" limits.

In the end, they had both gotten into the correct "window" -- but at different ends of it.

Finally, he decided to let Maya fly first. She tended to be a little quick on landings, and he could probably slow her down a little more, yet still demonstrate a faster landing for Sandra, who still tended to be rather slow about it.

It was a subtle thing, and he could have easily decided the reverse, and over the same landing situation, but once he decided it, he didn't second-guess himself.

This was to be fairly simple: Pre-flight for the first one to fly, lift-off, some flight near the surface, then briefly into space, approach to Alpha, landing, and for the second trainee to fly, post-flight. Nothing less, nothing more.

No weapons practice, even though it had been recently simulated. Maya flat out seemed to be doing better on that. Alan had talked to Tony before, wondering if he had given her any training on hald-held weapons, and the security officer had offered the advice that Maya responded best to being presented scenarios, not simply targets. She seemed to do things best with a reason. Bill had said she didn't smile well on simple request, but did with good reason. Maybe it was hesitancy among aliens, or maybe it was a cultural trait.

Managing a co-pilot was not to be practiced either. It was only something they were just starting to learn, in class. Flight/Human Resource Management, some vacuum-for-brains labeler back at Central had dubbed it a decade ago, a poorly-ordered phrase whose FHRM acronym was sometimes even pronounced as "Firm" (much to Alan's endless irritation). Alan simply called it "leadership." Sandra had already shown advantage here. Quiet as she could be, she was used to having some authority. Maya, outside of a promising leadership role in a salvage exploration mission some days before, had almost no such experience in her life, outside of childhood classrooms -- and it was showing. Yet Maya was a quick study, as he had heard Helena state once, and showed increasing flashes of potential there.

As he went through some short simulator sessions, he decided it was indeed time. "So, ladies," he said afterwards, "you are both ready for first flights now?"

They looked startled, both charmingly so. All trainees looked startled. He never hinted any further ahead of time. When it came to the first flight itself, he did not want to give trainees too much time to think, or they could get themselves twisted up and distort things. Better to go directly from a smooth, short, simple simulation session directly to real flight. He watched both their reactions, and both seemed ready, though with surprise, a hint of nervousness, and enthusiasm about them. Unlike almost all the other trainees, neither seemed to have much reaction to his announcement of who went first.

He gave his usual advice to approach First Flight as an extension of training and simulation, then gave them the basic mission details, dismissed them for a brief break, then finalized, with Command Center, arrangements to make the flight.

Psychons had two separate words, contractions, actually, for what Alphan simply called "flight": dri'lakor, and dri'trayt -- which would translate roughly to flight as a creature, and flight in a machine, respectively.

So it was with irony that in Alphan terms of simply "flight," her first "free flight" on Alpha, just as on Psychon, would be in a spaceship. On Psychon, dri'lakor had only been in the caverns, not really open air, because she had not learned metamorphic ability until after she and her father were the last on Psychon. On Alpha, dri'lakor had only been in her room, going in circles or flitting about from spot to spot. She didn't dare to fly around in the Alphan hallways or under-Tube, as much as that would be longer straight flight, like in Psychon's caverns. She simply didn't think Alphans would like to see her doing that. She felt there might even be danger doing so. So she didn't, and really wasn't interested in asking.

Now as she waited outside of the Travel Tube that would take her and Alan to Pad 4 for her first true Eagle flight, she felt a curious mix of anticipation, confidence, and nervousness. It wasn't that she thought she would crash the Eagle, especially having a co-pilot with far more experience, but that if she performed poorly, she might never be granted another flight.

Alan appeared a few minutes later. "Ready?" he asked cheerfully, if unnecessarily, she thought. If she and Sandra were not ready for first flight, Alan would not have stated such, and Maya would not have accepted. "Ready?" seemed to be a form of Alphan greeting before missions, however, so she simply, in a steady tone, "Ready."

"Good. It's your turn now, to start implementing the procedures you've learned in class and practiced in the simulator. Lead the way."

Maya pressed the button to call for the Travel Tube conveyance, then boarded first, heading for Pad 4.

Sandra felt the training had gone well, that she had learned a lot, and that she was ready to fly for real. That didn't stop the nerves.

She waited in a reception area for Bill to appear. He would be the pilot, while she would sit in the co-pilot seat but simply observe Maya's flight and Bill's flying.

She thought the post-Breakaway rule that every able officer learn Eagle flight was prudent; but it had taken her awhile to get to it, for one reason or another. After some of the delays, she had felt the need to volunteer, to make it clear she wanted it. That had been before Paul's death. He had been supportive, even aside from it being a rule. Now, he was gone. The training could have been a constant reminder of him. However, except for a couple of occasions, plus the dream she had of being in an Eagle cockpit but helpless, this had not turned out to be a trouble, at least not consciously. The training had been a worthy diversion from her pain, that finding success had been something she needed.

Finally, it was the day where this would become real.

Bill arrived, saying, "Ready?"

What came out was calmer than she had expected, perhaps due to her prior thoughts. "Ready."

"Good! Lead on."

Alan looked at Maya pressing buttons smoothly with elegant motions of her hands and fingers. Yet.... Was she, of all people, being hesitant? She was hesitant in so many other ways, but had not shown it in Eagle training, except when he was trying, unsuccessfully, to train her out of Psychon ways of thinking about flight.

Ten minutes before, down at Hangar 4, she had went through the walkaround well, finding nothing -- as it should have been this time, because this was supposed to be a flight-ready Eagle. He had looked as well, just to be sure, as part of the point of first flight was to make sure the trainee was doing things correctly. She had signed out the craft, gave the go-ahead to board, called in the rig to carry the Eagle to the lift, and requested the lift to the surface, while monitoring systems and pressing buttons to check other things, to assure herself the engines would be ready to start.

Now they were on the surface, and she was hesitating, not a lot, but enough for him to see. A touch of nerves. Rather than address it directly, he went for a touch of humor.

"You're not going to break it," he said with a smile.

"What?"

"Maya, it is not a toy, but a complex, expensive ship with--"

"You are not helping," she said with an off-kilter half-smile, a slightly miffed voice.

Alan was startled by the directness and honesty of her response, that she was starting to take a few chances, trusting a little. So he tried even more of a joke. "Of course, you probably think this is just primitive junk that is just about ready to fall apart." She looked a little horrified. Uh oh, overdid it, he thought. So he cut off her inevitable apology. "You don't have to be so serious all the time, Maya, certainly not around me." Maya's pretty eyes widened in surprise. "So just relax, take a breath, think back to your time in the simulator, then right back here to live flight."

She closed her eyes, opened them, and began engine start procedures, announcing her moves and the results, while he double-checked on his dual set of controls. His hands were in his lap, however. This was her flight. He was not going to actually take the controls unless necessary. It was hers to fly.

She got clearance from Command Center. Maya took off, with the quick yet reasonable lift above the pad he had come to expect since she got the point about not overstressing the Eagle by taking it to technical limits. She switched on the anti-gravity lift system, throttling back on the lifting thrusters, and engaged the main engines.

Eagle 19 was flying. Maya was smiling.

He heard the chatter between Bill and Command Center that Eagle 12, with Sandra on board, was now launching.

He had already briefed her about the destination, once they had boarded: Navigational Beacon 19 initially -- coincidentally appropriate considering she was flying Eagle 19. She could fly it without the computer, but diligently programmed in her intended course, and headed there, smiling. Her nerves had vanished. She obviously liked to fly.

They flew towards Beacon 19, Maya checking the status of various systems, giving efficient, even terse, feedback. He had her hover there, then fly a couple of circles. Eagle 12 was within sight, itself in a hover at a moderate, safe distance. There was not going to be a landing try here this flight, but the next one would have a landing on the Moon's surface itself.

Instead, he had her launch towards space, as he always did on first flight. It was a short trip, not even a full orbit -- that too would be the next time. Other than giving her the next instructions, there was little he had to say. She didn't miss much, and flew with firmness and precision.

As they turned around per his orders, Eagle 12 was a small, elongated, white shape at some distance. Even though Bill was an experienced pilot, formation flying was not to be tried, not even by an experienced pilot, around an inexperienced one.

He had her set a course back to Alpha -- or more accurately, had her think of one and then inform the computer. When his hands started hurting a little, he realized he ought to unclench his hands, which evidently wanted to grip the controls given Maya's unconventional way of flying.

Dri'trayt was dri'trayt, regardless of the machine, Maya found -- exhilarating. She loved it. There was, as she had known from virtually the beginning, more to do and monitor on an Eagle than any spaceship she had flown or done holosims before, but that scarcely mattered. It was still flying.

Alan's corrections or comments were few and minor. He also asked for an extra status statement once and awhile. Otherwise, it was almost like she were alone.

She determined a course back to Alpha that used the least fuel yet still fit the time limit with a few minutes to spare, as she did not want to perhaps end up being late if there was a slight delay.

She approached Alpha, and at the proper interval, called Command Center, was instructed to land on the same pad, and prepared to do so.

Just as Maya was readying to land, Alan began doubting his decision to have Maya fly first for the sake of showing Sandra a faster live landing.

Every trainee, no matter how gung-ho, slowed up the landing on their first live flight, but he doubted Maya would -- she had her equations. If Sandra followed Maya's example too much, she could come in much faster than she was used to, and have to abort or be waved off. He doubted it would be that extreme, but he was charged with safety, and suddenly didn't want to take that chance.

"Uh, Maya, I know I've told you that you have good landing speed now, but just this time, take it more slowly, say at seventy percent of your usual pace."

She looked puzzled, but did not ask or argue, but simply affirmed, "Seventy percent my usual pace, okay."

He could have been throwing off her pacing, but her "feel" was numeric, and she adjusted well, and landed just fine.

"Excellent, Maya."

"Thank you," she said, then called in her status.

"Okay," Alan said when she was done. "Because of the dual flight, Sandra did not pre-flight her Eagle, and you will not post-flight yours. The next flight will be the opposite. One or two more might switch back and forth. Then you'll get your own flight, end to end, with more steps in between as well."

With that, he instructed her to stay in this Eagle, while he and Bill would switch.

Sandra waited in her empty Eagle, in the co-pilot seat, the door behind her open, the Eagle otherwise empty, she knew.

With a chill, she remembered her nightmare of a distorted version of the Graktor battle, Sandra directing Paul to a giant space station which had not existed in the battle, and seeing him killed in it. She got up and went to the back of the Eagle, then returned to the pilot seat, knowing she needed to be there now anyway.

She shoved the memory of the nightmare aside, concentrating on what she had observed of Maya's flight. She was puzzled by what for Maya seemed a slower landing. Maya nervous about flying? Maya could be a nervous being, but flew by numbers. More likely Alan had her slow down, maybe for Sandra's benefit. Was Alan afraid Sandra would get the wrong message by Maya's landing style and then turn too aggressive herself? Silly Alan, she thought, bemused and not angry, yet suddenly feeling determined to show him she could do this without hesitation.

Alan arrived, and she went through procedures, called in her desire to launch, received permission via Yasko, and proceeded, a little faster than her usual still-slightly-too-hesitant pace. She enjoyed the switch from underside thrusters to mostly the anti-gravity stabilizers, and proceeded towards the navigational beacon.

It was a small thrill to feel the machine respond to her commands. She had always been passive on an Eagle. Well, not really. She had used scanners, even sitting in the co-pilot seat at times doing so; but flight-wise, she had always been a passenger, even if in the Pilot Module -- until now.

Alan felt more and more surprise as Sandra's first flight went on. Where Maya had started out a little more hesitant than usual but had quickly shed it, Sandra had started out less hesitant than her usual pattern, and stayed so. She still needed more feedback in some ways, lacking Maya's raw talent, yet making up to some degree with clarity of thinking and apparently determination, especially now. One of his meekest students, who had climbed up into range of being able to fly, was actually bettering some of his other first-flight students in the past, by not having any pre-flight jitters and even improving her flight a little over her better simulations. That was a surprise, and he looked at the slight woman in the pilot seat and wondered just where she was finding this bit of strength.

After flying for real with someone who, still unnerving him a little, flew with the computer being an afterthought formality, it was more comfortable for him to be watching someone who flew the Eagle more normally. Sandra was used to working numbers too, maybe not in Maya's way but still well. Sandra had worked the computer efficiently in simulation, she did so here as well.

They hovered and then circled around the navigation beacon, went up into space briefly, and returned. Even Sandra's landing was improved compared to simulation, still near the lower end overall but faster than any of hers from before, except when she had some early 'crashes' in simulation.

"Well, Sandra, that was excellent. Even better than your simulations."

She proceeded to calling the lift to take Eagle 12 down to the hangar, and stepped through all the requisite procedures.

Sandra had had a very focused look about her the whole flight. It was only when she was done that she smiled -- a little and only briefly, but he saw it. She'd still have plenty to prove yet, in more training flights, but it was a very promising start.

In fifteen minutes, all four met back in the training room, for the post-flight review, which was an open process. Flaws in both trainees' flights were to be discussed, and what they had done well was to be complimented. First, though, was a basic question.

"So how did it feel?" he asked the first flier, Maya.

"It was wonderful!" Maya almost gushed, like he had not heard her do before. She obviously loved being behind the controls of a spaceship.

The question was supposed to draw out responses of what the Eagle itself felt like in flight, and how well the trainee felt she had performed in flight. Sandra was smiling a bit, in a slightly off-kilter way that was perhaps the closest she ever came to a snicker. She seemed to be back to enjoying his reactions to Maya's sometimes-alien, sometimes simply highly-enthusiastic approaches to things.

He supposed that Sandra being back to relaxed was a sign she thought Alan was handling the situation better. Part of him internally responded it did not matter what Sandra felt about his techniques; but he had almost had a good trainee scrub herself out over his stubbornly sticking to the book, when Sandra had already tried to warn him. So another part of him decided Sandra being relaxed and Maya having fun were probably good signs. It still didn't get his question answered, though.

Suddenly, he remembered something Sandra had mentioned awhile back, perhaps more off-handedly than anything. Yet maybe now was the time to try it.

"Well, Maya, I am honestly happy you enjoyed it; but you'll get that question a lot regarding flying, so while in Level 1 training, treat it as a two-part question. How well do you think the ship performed, and how well do you think you performed? On the ship's side, tell me how it flies compared to specifications, by the numbers, but briefly."

"I think Eagle 19's engine one thrust was about 1-2% below spec at some ranges, but not others. I have an initial best'fit equation. The anti-gravity response seemed too strong by about 0.7%, I think, and seemed off balance, slightly stronger on port by...."

She listed a few more stats, briefly, about other systems. Bill looked stunned. He knew about her flying by equations, but this precision was news to him. Alan had almost forgotten the idea. Even Sandra, who had thought of it in the first place, while not looking very surprised, still seemed a bit gratified at just how well the idea actually worked.

Alan told Maya to write it all up, including any equations. She stressed that not all the numbers and equations would be exact, just estimates. He suppressed the urge to laugh, given this was far more information than usual.

They then got to the business of the trainees reviewing their own flights, which they did honestly. Sandra too had noticed one minor thing about her Eagle.

The debriefing eventually ended, Alan dismissing the two trainees with another compliment for each. Bill remained.

"So when were you going to tell me?" Bill asked.

"What?"

"That you found some Testing Tolerance Rig manual laying about after all and had Maya read it," he joked. "From what I could tell she did something like what Accipiter Systems would usually do once a year, if I understood your descriptions of the TTR correctly -- only she did it not with a rig but just by flying it."

"Pretty neat, eh?"

Bill laughed, then said, "Side effect of her flying by equations?"

Alan nodded. "That's her 'feel' it seems. The more the maneuvers made, the greater the combinations of thruster use and the more data for her to process and come to conclusions, it seems. At least that's my guess. I don't entirely know how she does it."

"Sandra scarcely looked surprised."

"She actually suggested the possibility, quite awhile back. I almost forgot until now."

"You know, I'm really surprised by Sandra in all of this. I helped with some of the training and simulator sessions, and now watched her in flight, and she did fairly good before and now better."

"Yes. I think we all had a good day, Sandra especially."

They talked awhile longer. Then Bill left, and Alan soon did as well, heading for a cafeteria. A beep sounded on his commlock as he walked the halls. It was Maya.

"I have completed tabulating the numbers and estimating some equations."

"I didn't mean you had to do it now."

"It is still early in my first'part."

He was already close to the cafeteria, so he listed which one. In the meantime, he got food from the line. There were a few people there, but curious to read Maya's report when she brought it, he sought out an empty table. She delivered the report and left, and he looked it over, nodding.

On a lark, he checked Eagle Maintenance Manager Bell's commlock, and found Diane's status was active standby. Was she really on duty this late in the evening? He ate the rest of the food a little more quickly, stowed the rest on a plate to take with him, then headed to her office. Sure enough....

"You're still here?"

"I had a longer rehab session, then had to rest from the physical strain; but I still wanted to finish my work."

"Well, I'm about to add to it, but not for tonight, other than discussing it."

"What is this?" she asked as he handed her the report.

"Adjustments on Eagle 19. Actually, off-spec data and best-fit equations for the differential data."

"Adjustments? Isn't that the Eagle Maya just flew?"

"Exactly."

"Exactly what? What did she do that has the Eagle needing adjustment?"

"It's not that she knocked it off spec, it is that she found it to be off already." He waved his hand in the direction of the report she was holding.

Diane looked at it. "This is broken down by every bell and nozzle on the ship, plus about the anti-gravity lift system. That requires the Tolerance Testing Rig back at Accipiter Systems on Earth. We've never tried to build one."

"Well, apparently we won't need to anymore. Well--"

"How does she know this?"

He explained, her asking more questions.

"That's incredible," she said at the end. "Question is...."

"Is that safe? Well, I tried redirecting her to normal -- I mean established -- protocol, but she performed much better her way, though it took awhile to convince her that the specified limitations were maximums and not something she should usually approach. Over-aggressive until she understood what the numbers were intended to convey. After that, she's done just as well as anyone else."

"Hmm, just show her the specs and she can be off and flying?"

"Well, maybe to a degree; maybe more. I wish I had thought of trying the training that way first; it would have been interesting to find out. I suspect she'd have a lot of raw talent as a test pilot of totally new craft; but it's not like we've had any new spaceships in awhile."

"So what am I supposed to do about these?" she asked, looking at the reports now sitting on her lap.

"Make the adjustments."

"These are tiny differences; well within tolerances, which is probably why no one noticed before."

"Yes, within tolerances because we didn't have a means of testing to finer tolerances anyway. Besides, tiny differences can eventually become larger ones."

"Nip them now and we may save ourselves time and maybe risk later."

"Right," Alan said.

"Well, we do have the time," Diane said, then followed up with a suggestion Maya fly different Eagles each time, something he had started considering too. Diane wondered about the Lab/Booster pod as well.... "Maybe have her read the pod's specs, let it settle in her mind, if she needs that, and then put her into the simulator?"

Alan nodded.

"What I don't get is how, if she's flying by specs, yet trying to fly a course that way, but is flying an Eagle that is off spec, ah.... How does she get the feel?"

Alan chuckled ruefully. "That was one of our biggest points of conflict very early -- well, more generally speaking anyway. I didn't think to ask. Not sure she'd be able to explain it anyway. She does check position and alignment information, so I guess she notes the differences in her mind, starts adapting to them, even interpolates them to anticipate further differences from other flight control input. Or maybe she's only checking the computer to make sure it is keeping up, and she determines accuracy some other way. I honestly don't know. Oh, and she stressed to me that I should tell you they were closest approximations based on incomplete data."

Diane laughed. "Was she apologizing for providing something the Eagles haven't had access to in a year? Hardly necessary -- though I can bet some techs will start to grumble about Maya's flights generating more work on twitchy details."

Alan laughed. "Well, it can be considered low priority work, unless she notices something out of our normal tolerance; but when we have the time, that's the techs' problem then."

"Hey, I'm still a tech, or will be after more rehabilitation lets me work on more systems on the bench."

Alan just smiled, still, knowing Diane could take it just fine.

"If she's really that good, maybe we should draft her as a test pilot," she said.

"Well, I doubt she'll have that much time; but yes, if we can get her on different Eagles each time, when there is such a choice...."

"That will keep us lowly techs quite busy, thank you," she said with a small smile.

It was a little bit of a liberty on her part, but Alan had a sense of humor, and was very tolerant when everything was going smoothly, so he immediately smiled along.

M-385 DAB 1800-1900: Fussy

Little George Crawford's 'opinion' seemed to be changing, his mother Susan noticed.

He had previously grown more comfortable around Greg Sanderson, but little by little, more and more, George would get antsy in Greg's arms, then even just in the same room as Greg. This did not happen so consistently with anyone else. Greg had always looked a little awkward with George, but Sue had assumed he would get better about it. Maybe it didn't help that Greg still had gruff outbursts about losing Jane, the resident alien, prior alien attacks, and the psychiatric discussions with Dr. Mathias. Sue knew where he stood, and was glad someone was being cautious, but something about his continued rants was starting to irritate her a little too. She understood his pain, but was looking for signs from him of a little recovery, a bit of healing. Other than acknowledging some of his mistakes in taking a little too much for granted in his relationship with Jane, and for being stupid in lashing out at the alien, little had changed in Greg's words and tone.

Lately, he had been ranting about the Psychon being granted Eagle training, and even worse, not just a lab, but LQ12, Professor Victor Bergman's former room which had served as both living quarters and his general laboratory. It had been repurposed solely to a lab after his death and the general move away from quarters in the uppermost levels.

"I interacted with the Professor some in my role as a Survey Team lead. Not much, mind you, and I'm much more a surveyor and miner than a scientist, but it is damn disrespectful to his memory to hand over his space to some alien whose father wielded an awful lot of power against us. Who knows what she might cook up with access to Bergman's most cutting-edge experiments, or notes, or whatever he might have left behind."

That was his most quiet version of that rant, which was often louder, and he indicated that he was telling that to other people, to mixed reaction.

"A lot of idiots around here either shrug or say it's a good thing," he added once.

Such conversations, or others, frequently got loud, Sue sometimes agreeing but still increasingly finding the length and loudness of his rants increasingly irritating.

Even from another room, George would occasionally start crying when Greg voiced his opinion, and George would not be consoled quickly at such times. Two days ago, he had started crying as soon as Greg met them in the lounge.

Susan knew she wasn't the only one who didn't trust Maya. She knew that among the families, there was a great deal of distrust of the Psychon. The alien had rubbed several people the wrong way, a few of them specifically about the Psychon's reactions -- long, uninterpretable stares -- to babies and a pregnant woman.

The discussions had spread among the parents, and though some were dismissive of the concerns -- making excuses that maybe Maya simply hadn't seen even Psychon babies for years -- there had ended up being at least one parent in each family which took the conveyed stories about Maya's odd behavior very seriously. Sue was more than happy to discuss her own experience regarding the alien staring at her own baby.

Greg, though not a family man and having lost his intended wife, seemed to be on the right side of this concern.

Yet, she was starting to hear from some of her single and childless married friends that some of their mutual friends among the families were getting more than a little bothered by Greg's frequently being around this block of family quarters, especially in the lounge area. One day, Karen Smith, Smitty's wife, a mother herself, point blank told Susan, "He's starting to creep me out more than Maya does."

Some friends, especially Annette Fraser, seemed to know or suspect the misgiving among many parents about Maya. Invitations for her and George to have supper with Annette and Bill, and other married or dating couples had increased a little recently. In some such cases, Susan often feeling subtly targeted regarding Greg, by her female friend, while the friend's husband or boyfriend kept George entertained.

Besides starting to have an effect on Susan's thoughts, maybe the greater exposure to some other male figures was somehow, in a baby's unknown way, leading George to realize there were better 'father' figures around. Susan didn't like being manipulated, but was resisting lashing out about it or withdrawing, for fear of recreating some of the partially mixed reactions she had received after Jackie/Jarak. She was also beginning to think it was because maybe there was some truth to the concerns coming in. Still, Susan did resist the manipulation. Some part of her still knew there was a lot of good in Greg, and that he just needed a stable relationship to grow past his grief, as much as anyone could get past such loss.

She had been surprised to realize earlier in the day that the visits with Greg had become less frequent, seemingly mostly of Sue's unconscious choice. Except....

Sue tickled George's palm, saying, albeit with a little less enthusiasm as usual, "George, guess who's coming to visit today? Greg is going to visit."

George started crying. Sue was startled. Had George learned to associate the sound of Greg's name with the man himself and George's recently declining appreciation of Greg's presence? Had George's 'opinion' of Greg fallen that far?

Maybe her baby boy was even brighter than she thought. Maybe he was brighter than Susan herself regarding Greg. She started reconsidering her 'relationship' with Greg as she tried to quiet her child.

M-385 DAB 2100-2200: Fuel for Clearer Thought

Tony's suspicions about Maya had been rooted in reasonable concerns, he thought; but it had been long lingering. He had no idea what to do about it at first; but after much of a day had gone by, finally decided to talk to a friend. He swung by Alan's quarters, on the chance he was there, and found he was.

"I come bearing beer," Tony said to Alan.

"Why don't you just shoot me right now."

"You don't want to try one of my better batches?"

"Define better. Dish soap, or Eagle fuel?"

"How about we talk?"

Alan seemed to have expected this, or had a quick guess, for he smiled briefly, nodded, and said, "So, mate, are you here to let me rail a little on the way you still sometimes treat the sheila from Psychon, or here to ask me something?"

"You have a knack for getting to the point."

"So do you, but in a sometimes blunt way."

"Yeah, I know."

"So...?" Alan asked, knocking back a sip of Tony's brew and finding it marginally more palatable than the last time.

"That's the thing. I don't know."

"Simple. You're paranoid. Okay, not paranoid, but overly suspicious at times."

"Just like that?"

"Sure."

"I mean, doesn't everyone already joke or say that being somewhat suspicious one of my defining characteristics?"

"Suspicious, but it is what makes you a good security officer, I think; but you've certainly been holding some of your suspicions about Maya for a long time. You had to command Alpha against a Psychon attack from Mentor, and it seems like you've never gotten over seeing John bring another Psychon -- Mentor's daughter no less -- into Command Center, after Mentor put you through hell on your first command crisis."

"Just like that?" Tony repeated.

"Sure. I've been watching you two, wondering why the hell you still act like you are going off John Koenig's words about her rather than your own observations."

"But I am," Tony protested.

"Okay, I'll grant that you've come around a long way. So you tell me, why don't you completely trust her? Is it the metamorph thing?"

"That she can turn into actual monsters? Sure, maybe it bothers me a little."

"That her father acted like a monster and she can turn into literal monsters or such?"

"I wouldn't put it like that."

"Are you sure of that? Have you ever thought of asking?"

"Asking what?"

"For her to demonstrate."

"She already did."

"No, not while Sanderson is in a rampage and you're forced to push her to use that ability, and then probably as nervous about the lioness as Sanderson."

"I'll say."

"Exactly."

"Just like that, ask her to demonstrate?"

"Okay, maybe not just like that. Might be rude. But you'll have to get used to it sooner or later. Maybe you should figure some polite way of asking her, or getting her to do it for some better reason, before we reach Kaskalon. Hmm, then again, John advised against idle curiosity. Maybe you should just wait, and be ready to accept it when she does it."

"Maybe, but...." Tony trailed off, not feeling like it was quite the problem.

They sat there for almost a minute, sipping on the beer, Alan's taste buds having adapted a little, or maybe just given up fighting for the moment.

Then something occurred to Alan in light of the recent incident regarding Mentor and Maya scanning Alpha from Psychon. He thought about it, and....

"Let me tell you a story, Tony."

"Alan, I never had much patience for parables or--"

"This is a good story. Well, mostly not a good story -- but a true one anyway."

"Okay, fine."

"Psychon was about as close to hell as I ever want to come. My Eagle dragged down there by an alien who could not keep his word. End up in the pit of a volcano, holding an alien spaceship graveyard, and now we're in it too."

"I know all that."

"Oh, no, not all of it; just listen, and let me put you on Psychon."

Tony relented, sitting back and taking another sip.

"So Mentor comes over the commscreen like he loves to do, as if showing off that he can infiltrate any comm system he damn well feels like."

"Yeah, tell me about it. He beamed his face all over Alpha. I've been meaning to ask Maya about that security breach."

"So you want to get on her case about something else too? Maybe you should just to let the real little stuff go, or if you insist and trying to seal every breach possible, learn 'right place, right time, right way.'"

"Yeah, coming from you that--"

"I know, bull in a china shop myself sometimes. Still-- No, no, just listen. Listen."

Tony made a gesture of final defeat, and Alan settled more into his "story."

"We didn't believe anything he said, and weren't about to follow his order to stay in the Eagle. So we head into his caves, all steaming, jagged, and then run across his miners, alien slaves really, and realize they are all brain-damaged aliens. Originally from those spaceships. It was a horrible realization, both about what happened to them and what might happen to us. Then Mentor's image appears, Picard dies trying to shoot past it, we run, and get captured by another of Mentor's balls of light.

"So I wake up and I'm strapped into this chair, for this brain-drain device, along with Bill and Helena, and eventually, we hear John selling out Alpha for his and our three lives -- to an alien who has so far failed to keep a single one of his words. So Mentor frees us, sort of, and I try to confront John, but end up stunned by one of Mentor's guards.

"We all ended up in a cell, with the Commander. Everything is orange there. The walls, the ceiling, the floor, the hallways outside, the table and the pitcher holding water, and even the bars of food. I felt almost like we had descended to Hell, that John had just sold everyone to the Devil, that we were still going to have our souls drained from us anyway, and could do nothing but wait for it all to happen. Then Mentor figures out John has played a trick. Mentor ends up revealing it to us. I feel totally sheepish, but then worse when Mentor starts taunting us, threatening Alpha.

"Right then, this young Psychon woman walks up out of nowhere -- well, right where Mentor's image in the hallway had just faded away from, like she was stepping into his place. I had never seen her before, didn't know who she was except obviously another bloody Psychon, probably here to take over from where Mentor left in taunting us.

"She was one angry alien, which only made me angry, for we were the ones who had the right to be angry, not her. Only something was strange the moment she started speaking, calling the Commander a liar over Directive 4 and the nuclear Eagle. As clear as day: 'Negotiate with a liar? You disgust me. We welcome you as friends, and you plot to kill us.' I remember her first words to us well, mainly because they were powerful but made no sense.

"Yet as I watched John start hurling what we had seen of Mentor's actions and everything else at her, and she kept responding with words about 'vile things' John was saying against her father, and so on, and I finally realized she honestly did not know. John knew this. It was obvious he had met her before. He kept pounding the point to her, and she kept defending Mentor, repeating things he must have told her a hundred times to keep her from questioning. John tried to bash through each defense, while she defended herself and her father, in a battle of wills, until she was practically trembling in defensive rage.

"When she looked at me, as if to draw out John as a liar, all I could think to do was give her a calm nod, to show her nothing John was saying was surprising me.

" 'Mindless hulks, destroyed by your father!' he said, I think, and began demanding she go down to the pits to see for herself. At one point, maybe then, I thought I saw some doubt cross her eyes, but she just kept repeating 'You're lying' over and over. I could see she was slipping away, shutting us out. Sure enough, she finally had enough and just fled. I just ground my teeth, and thought that was the end, that she had been our last real chance, and was just running away.

"Then Mentor started pounding Alpha, taunting us again. We were getting desperate, with nothing we could do, when John abruptly noticed she was back. The woman who came back looked little like how she had left, like she was emotionally transformed. She looked utterly crushed, her head downcast, silent, humiliated beyond words."

Alan paused, to let it sink in, and he could see it was doing just that, surprised a little himself at his own words.

"We were all surprised she had come back, and it was instantly obvious that John had gotten through to her, that for whatever reason, she had gone to check, even if only to come back to call us liars again. But she checked! Then when Mentor blew a hole in that part of Alpha, her mouth just fell open in horror, and she finally let us out, asking only one thing."

"What?"

"That we not harm her father. 'We want to stop him, not harm him,' John said. She asked for nothing else. Nothing. Not for her planet, not even for herself. She could have been afraid we would attack her the moment she let the shield down. But she trusted John, or at least accepted his words, or just wanted to do the right thing, and just let us out."

They sat for a long time, saying nothing, drinking a few more sips of beer, but both finding it was back to tasting not so tolerable anymore.

Alan finally spoke. "Do I think she knew what it would lead to? Maybe not, but it doesn't matter. She wanted her father stopped, not harmed -- wanted him away from Psyche. From what I understand, she stood by and let John destroy Psyche, even after Mentor warned that would destroy Psychon in turn."

"She did nothing?" Tony said, not in a reproving tone, not even a surprised tone, just asking for more.

"She wanted her father away from that insane computer, even at the loss of their dying planet, I think. Did she want the planet to be destroyed? No, of course not. I think all she wanted was her father alive and Psyche dead, regardless of the planet. I have no doubt she thought everything came out in the worst way possible for her in the end, that her father and the planet both died with Psyche, leaving her life completely in the hands of aliens who her father had just savagely attacked. I can scarcely imagine how much pain and fear that caused her."

Tony wasn't drinking his own beer anymore. "I guess I didn't really listen to John very well after all."

"No, you listened, maybe not well; but you heard a summary, followed an order, and later read a report. You wondered about all the security violations, found out she was a walking security violation in her abilities, and never got the full horror of Psychon and the one very bright spot we found there. I think that young woman has a hell of a lot more courage and rightness in her than you are letting yourself give her credit for even now. She lost an enormous amount to do the right thing. You mostly accept that, yet go after little things which don't matter, or which might matter a tiny bit but that you go after with a sledgehammer rather than a gentle question.

"Tony, I should have told you the whole story before. If I had known you were still harboring doubts going back to aspects of her actions on Psychon.... Sure, she helped her father, but on little bits, nothing near his big picture -- his agenda."

Silence again. Then Alan added, as a friend yet bluntly, "For a smart bloke, you can be so thick sometimes, mate."

"Yeah," Tony said, sobered.

T-386 DAB 0310-0440: Drilling Sound

The alarm was sounding. Maya woke up, to find an EVACUATE order on the monitors in her quarters. She grabbed some basic equipment and a few other handy items, and ran into the corridors, only to find them empty. She tried to find someone, anyone, but found no one. The only sound she could hear was the alarm. Fear gripped her as she tried to contact anyone on her commlock, and got no response. The alarm continued. Something had triggered an evacuation, her odd hours had her sleeping through it, and the Alphans had forgotten her, or had abandoned her. The alarm continued.

Maya awoke with a nervous cry, fear gripping her, and continuing as the alarm continued from sleep to consciousness. She clambered out of her bed, having been in the middle of her nap -- or siesta as a few called it. Only the alarm was not to evacuate, but a safety drill, one requiring her to retrieve her spacesuit and proceed to a deep shelter. Her hair was down and she was in pajamas for the nap, but these drills were timed, so she ignored the problem.

She came out of her quarters, and felt relief when she saw others rushing about, many in pajamas as well, no one seeming to care about that either. It was the middle of the night for most other Alphans. Maya had no fixed duty station but did have a lab, and once she had been assigned one, her spacesuit had been moved from a spacesuit room not far from her quarters to one about halfway between her quarters and lab.

Within a few minutes, she was in a room smaller than her own quarters, with several other people, all donning spacesuits. There was a baby, not in a typical spacesuit but some fairly large orange spheroid with a ring around its 'equator,' handles, a visor-like opening, and a place to which an oxygen backpack was attached. The baby was making nervous sounds, but not crying. Maya averted her gaze quickly, not wanting her curiosity to offend yet more parents.

Those whose spacesuits were stored here were designated to go to a particular shelter, along with those from a couple other spacesuit rooms. Still remembering this was all timed, Maya was quickly donning her spacesuit, then put her helmet on but left the visor open, and finally hastily worked her way back down the base, avoiding the lifts and going for the stairs, as procedure dictated.

The quarters of families were not near Maya's, but because of duty station assignments, some families' spacesuits had been stored in rooms evacuating to the same shelter as her. She avoided the families, and was among mostly unfamiliar people, or familiar people currently interacting with people who were only marginally tolerant of Maya. She was now getting some stares from more people than she had been lately, but she guessed maybe it was because they weren't used to seeing her in a spacesuit.

She looked about the room again. Sandra had shown her this shelter weeks ago, pointing out things like the storage bins of food'bars and MRE's, tiny bathrooms, drinking water supply, extra oxygen outlets connected to emergency supplies to replenish tanks, and other essentials. It was a fairly large room with a lot of vertical beams at intervals throughout the central space. It was one of several at the deepest levels. Existing passages called catacombs were being expanded via further drilling and some eventually would hold even deeper shelters.

The drill ended, and people immediately began removing their helmets, so Maya took hers off, and quickly received more looks. They were probably not used to them seeing her hair down. She saw Kate, who walked over.

"Hi, Maya."

"Hi, Kate."

Kate looked at Maya's hair and then said, "Looks like they caught you during sleep."

Maya nodded. Kate's hair looked a little disorderly, so Maya, maybe feeling a little tired, or a little brave, commented, "You too."

Kate laughed. "You're right," she said as they left the room. "Guess it took awhile longer for the dratted spacesuit drills to come back, but apparently with a vengeance: I can't even remember the last one that came in the middle of the night."

They reached the point where they would have to go separate ways.

"Say, Maya. Were you in the middle of a siesta, or night?"

"Siesta."

"Were you going to get back to that?"

"I am not certain that would be an effective use of time."

"I normally get up not long from now, to get some exercise in before the work day starts. Have you ever played racquetball yet?"

"Negative."

"Want to try?"

"Yes, I would," she said, not qualifying her assent this time.

"Meet me in Recreation Center. The far side, where some of the exercise facilities are. This early, should be no problem getting the court."

Maya had been going to some smaller gyms scattered elsewhere on the base, but she knew where Kate meant, and thanked her.

17.2 minutes later, properly dressed in exercise'clothes rather than spacesuit over pajamas, her hair done up, and her nightmare of being abandoned now forgotten, she reached the multi-room Recreation Center. She had not really seen this before. The name was clear enough, but she had not yet been invited.

Other than a few moderately attractive males playing some game with cards in the corner of one of the side rooms -- they scarcely took any notice of her -- the place was empty. The men were probably second shift and just finishing up some recreation they must have started before the spacesuit drill. Indeed, one said, "Let's just settle up after this hand and the next. I'll see your ten chips, one Food Allocation, and two laundry points, and add in a half shift take-over."

"Little bigger bet there."

Maya could guess settle up had something to do with the point scoring of this game, which seemed to involve a strange mix of chips that were not food but colored disks, plus food items, laundry points, and work time.

Maya had learned about laundry points. Alpha had a curious system of dividing labor on laundry, some being the individual's responsibility, and some being a Laundry Department's, plus some room for choice on the basis of points. Maya could do some of her own laundry now, in small laundry rooms in the residential blocks, whereas she had previously been an exception to the usual rules given her prior security situation.

She walked among the various rooms of Recreation Center, which started transitioning to exercise-related.

One room had a green-colored floor with a net halfway across. Another had two structures protruding from opposite walls. She looked through the glass'wall with curiosity.

"Basketball," a female voice sounded from behind her.

Maya gasped, holding back a cry. It was Kate.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

"Basket'ball?" She suddenly recognized each structure held something which could be construed as an open-net basket. There were orange and black balls in a corner of the room. "Oh, I see. A challenge to throw the balls through the basket."

"Well, one ball, which switches sides according to rules. Popular with the Americans, who sometimes grouse about missing baseball and football -- their football."

"Base'ball? Foot'ball. Janina mentioned she had a brother who died chasing a foot'ball onto a street and getting hit by an auto'mover."

"Automobile. Very sad."

"Oh, I am not sure she meant for me to release such information generally."

"That's okay, I already knew. I think most people who know her know that. Keeps the memory of him more alive, though she has no direct memory of him herself."

"I understand."

"That was a real football, shaped more like the basketball."

"The Americans have a different foot'ball?"

"Sort of a pointy... ovoid I guess you could say. Totally different game too. Never understood why they call it football when it rarely touches their feet. I was a fan of European football when I was younger, and some of my boyfriends were absolute bonkers; but if rampant hooliganism continues at matches, sooner or later someone's going to slap a ban. Fans get too wrapped up in the large leagues, sometimes even the parents at youth games, or even pick-up stuff."

"What?" Maya asked, having ceased to understand most of Kate's statement, filled with numerous words and phrases unfamiliar or used very strangely.

"Oh, nothing. Never mind."

"What is base'ball?" Maya asked. Some of these sports seemed to have names much like Psychon contractions. She thought of people running a ball around the moonbase, and she laughed. Kate looked at her, but Maya feared it would be mocking, only Kate insisted. "I am probably very wrong, but I had an image of someone taking a ball and running it around the moonbase according to some rules of points."

Kate laughed. "You know, there might just be something there. But no, bases as in special spots to touch on the ground. Goals. Four of them. A runner hits the ball with a bat, into the field, and the runner can try reaching the first base, or even the second or more, as long as the ball cannot be retrieved and thrown to someone already waiting at the same base. The fourth base is home, and a point is made."

Maya sort of grasped a half-formed image. "The field could be quite large," she hypothesized.

"That's the problem. No space on Alpha. Thus the Americans' missing it. Not just the Americans, but many of the countries of the Americas, and the Japanese, really miss that game."

Maya nodded, though the information did not mean much to her.

As they walked the hallway, Maya saw inside another room, and was startled by its shape and what it suggested. "Cuball?"

"What?"

"Cube'ball?"

"You've seen a raquetball court on Psychon?"

"Very similar-looking. This space seems a little longer than a cube. Do you hit a ball inside of it on trajectories?"

"Well.... I guess we share a sport in common."

Maya had not played it before, but said it was sometimes called the Exercise in Geometry. Kate joked that Maya would probably be ace in no time, but Maya indicated she felt it was more complicated than that.

"Well, it does take practice. Here, safety glasses."

Indeed, after just hitting the ball around for awhile, then learning the rules, which seemed very different than Psychon rules -- it wasn't really the same sport except for the similar play'space and equipment -- Kate beat Maya in every game.

"I can see you're already starting to anticipate the ball movement and spin quite well, but that is less than half the challenge. The rest is getting yourself into the right place at the right time, and hitting it at the correct angle and speed with the racquet. Good job, though. Not bad for a beginner."

Maya was nearly breathless, simply nodding. Despite some exercise, this particular form was new to her, and very energetic. Her right arm was sore from using the racquet. But.... "Thank you, it was very enjoyable," she finally managed to say.

T-386 DAB 0700-0815: Quick Study

John and Helena met up on the way to Maya's quarters. She had invited the two of them over for their breakfast. She greeted them warmly, and unlike most others after a late-night drill, seemed quite cheerful.

While technically supper for Maya, the Psychon seemed to have a weak sense of the more "typical" breakfast vs. lunch or supper foods, which was understandable considering her schedule, that Alphan cuisine varied, and so did other people's shifts. So a meal of small pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream, "pork" and applesauce, salad (theirs with tomatoes but hers without), a single lonely "sausage" link, curried rice, orange juice, and coffee, while being more like random brunch mixture, was just fine with him. Maya did not seem content for simply repeating meals she had seen either. Yet she seemed to have picked up that pork and applesauce were often served together. Or it was coincidence. It didn't matter; John was rarely a picky eater.

In just about any context, Maya usually started with simple emulation before starting to vary her responses as she learned a wider range and/or gained some confidence. Evidently that was the case here. John was aware of Maya's curious bread salad. With food more than anything, Maya seemed to be doing somewhat interesting combinations of things. Then again, Maya herself was slowly starting to bring new technical combinations to Alpha as well.

Conversation hovered around work-related topics for much of the meal, and how much she had learned and had yet to learn. There was also talk about Maya's recent first non-simulator Eagle flight. She seemed happy flying, regardless of how. John was gratified to discuss these topics, recognizing that she seemed to not just be grateful to have a role, but that she seemed to be enjoying it.

Though there was much to talk about there, Helena was eventually steering topics to ones more of social adjustment. Maya's responses continued to be positive, even though she was, after a little prodding, direct that she still knew a lot of people were uncomfortable with her. Increasingly, however, it seemed more to be with ones who had not spent much time with her, or who seemingly came in with preconceptions.

The two not-mutually-exclusive topics met in the middle when, under more encouragement from both, she talked about how she still had some problems with the Science Board, and some of the scientists in general. Arguments were common in science, to sort out good hypotheses and theories from weak ones, or to try finding the best way to solve technical problems. She knew that; but it sounded as if Maya had trouble sorting out what arguments were based on real scientific principles and what were over her being alien among them. She was making more suggestions and participating more, yet according to rumors picked up by Tony, having to deal with some excess resistance at times, yet also support as well.

John was loath to interfere, however, as he was mostly happy with the Board. It was indeed filtering a lot of the noise which Victor had done so admirably while he was alive, paring down concerns or development ideas to just the ones he or the officers needed to hear about. Interacting with the chairman, Carl van der Mir, was almost effortless. John was able to give Carl topics the board needed to discuss or delegate, and that too had worked mostly well so far. It was still not the same as having a single individual, and replaced neither Victor nor the intended Science Officer. Technical Section authority was still split among the officers. The board simply filtered more of the noise and handled some delegation; it did not fully replace authority structures.

John had also been hearing random ideas from Maya herself, in his weekly meal with her and other meetings. Whatever pain she was feeling, which did appear from time to time, she seemed to be hiding well. Having a core group of good friends early also seemed to help. "I didn't realize how lonely I had gotten until I was here among so many people and finding some friends among them," she admitted forthrightly at one point.

Overall, John felt satisfied that she was indeed starting to find a place and a life here, as he and Helena had promised. It would be a long road for Maya, he knew, but at least there was one for her to walk, with friends alongside.

The meal wrapped up, they helped her stack dishes which she took away, and John stood up and looked around. Her quarters were not so bursting at the seams, now that she had a lab, yet as he guessed, she did keep some technical items here: a microscope, simple hand-held scanner, a small electrical toolkit, a couple of opened-up devices. Manuals were on her nightstand, including about computers. However, a book of poetry sat on top.

Her bookshelves held the same predominately technical mix, ranging from mathematics and science to mechanical and flight -- with a few miscellaneous topics. A book of nature scenes. Another one of poetry. Art. Two novels. A few others. He didn't look exhaustively, and his attention was soon drawn to the hand-held scanner she had been creating for the past month out of bits of discarded Alphan technology and some innovations of her own.

"I believe it is complete now, Commander; though I need to test it around the base. I was going to show it to you soon."

"May I?"

"Please pick it up. Sit down too, if you wish," she said, looking to the other side of the room where the lounge chairs were, Helena already sitting in one. He walked over, carrying Maya's scanner, while Maya picked up a chair from her dining table over to "lounge" corner of the room. When they were seated, he took a closer look.

It was a device with a foldable parabolic mirror, which was nothing new, though on hers it was larger. Yet instead of a single point collector there were a few metallic disks at intervals, each disk getting smaller the further away from the mirror it was. It held nicely in the hand, with a compact display on its main electronics piece. For something cobbled together with nothing but junk, it looked remarkably well-constructed, and of an intuitive design, at least in general shape.

"What purpose does having multiple emitter/sensor disks serve?"

"It emits primary and secondary frequencies at different disks, using variant fields. The returns are both point-collected at one disk, and as interference and indirect patterns at the off-point disks. They are then pre-processed on the rod using collimation circuits, before passing it to the primary circuits in the unit's base, and converting them for read-out."

"Unique. How many distinct detections are you making?"

"Only twelve. I wanted twenty but some patterns I could not yet determine how to detect with Alphan technology, even indirectly, or that the indirection would have come at too large a size until I can think further. I would like to test this one out in practice, though, as I consider how to create another."

"Onto the second generation even as you finish the first." It was exactly the kind of foresight he wanted in a science officer, and her scale-back approach was also well-reasoned: even with his carte-blanche approval to the general idea, she had kept time in consideration.

"What can it detect?" Helena asked.

"Electrical activity, heat emission, life forms but with limitations in this unit, four basic readings regarding atmospheric conditions, two forms of radiation directly, and two more forms of radiation by indirect means, and an indirect means of detecting some subforms of force'field."

They talked about it a little more, and he finished by saying, "Definitely try it out around here, and bring it along to Kaskalon. Very good job. I heard you fixed the strange laced display bug."

"The hyperinterlacing bug?"

"Yes."

"Yes. I am using that machine code and writing some new code to allow me to call that up as a selectable display mode."

"Why?"

"Because it is an excellent way to read raw data, especially when the data are already gridded."

"Huh. Well, good." He couldn't imaging how a wildly-flickering display jumping back and forth between pages, often repeating a page a few times before moving past it, could be read at all, much less be described as excellent. Her reading machine code sounded rather unusual too. He sometimes found himself forgetting that he was talking with an alien, but this was one reminder that she still had some different ways of thinking and perceiving the world around her.

Helena carried the conversation elsewhere, while John mused....

From Computer work to Eagle flight, learning various devices from Smitty, repairing a microwave, and building her own scanner with Alphan tech, leading a small mission to interacting well with some and being patient with others -- Maya was a quick study, as Helena had put it at least once, and/or was using/finding her own inner strength.

It was probably time to get Maya involved in Command Center, as an operative. She had worked some similar consoles in other areas, but the ones in CC were more central to Alpha, and more complicated. Sandra was already aware of what John had hoped to be an eventuality, and said she had some training protocols that she could queue up on short notice, and that some simple current work was usually popping up even at quiet times.

He tuned back into the conversation between Helena and Maya, and found it, or this part of it, was winding down, so he brought up the topic, and found she was ready and eager to try. So he indicated she should come to Command Center as soon as she was ready this morning.

She then thanked him for that, and them for accepting the invitation for a meal, then offered them leftovers. John was about to refuse politely, but Helena quickly stepped in and said, "Thank you, I'd like some, and I'm sure John would as well."

"Of course," he quickly said, realizing that if Helena was insisting on accepting for the both of them, maybe there was a reason.

Indeed, Maya smiled widely, almost as if it was a huge compliment. Something cultural? he wondered. No surprise that maybe Helena had picked up on something.

T-386 DAB 0830-1230: Command Center

Forty-two Alphan days ago, Maya had been brought directly to Command Center upon her arrival on Alpha -- from the outskirts of the alien city to its deep center and a fractious meeting with its secondary leader and security chief, Tony. Since then, she had scarcely been in that room, only when someone escorting her, often that same Tony, decided to stop there on the way to bringing her from one place to another. She had usually just stood in the back, quietly observing the process and interactions. In such brief time'slices, she had learned little. Since the security escort had ended, she had not been back here.

Now, she was back in this space, sitting in front of a console, being taught its more numerous operational details by Sandra, while the Commander and Tony watched. Lots of details. Things to check, scanners or sensors she could access, people to give status to, or accept orders from. She had helped Father with similar things on Psychon, and had been learning Alphan systems in other parts of the base, but this felt different than both.

In a brief pause, during which she was offered coffee, which she accepted, Maya thought how forty-two Alphan days ago, she had been brought here by the Commander and Helena, Maya feeling grief-stricken and nervous, and very alien. This time, she had walked here on her own, her grief was not gone but had slipped somewhat into the background, she still felt a little nervous, and was still an alien -- yet she felt increasingly like an Alphan, little by little, and her nervousness at this particular moment was not regarding being an alien so much as wanting to do a job and do it well.

The Commander watched her critically, but for professional reasons to assess her performance. Tony still seemed doubtful, but she kept wondering if it was less about her as a person than professionally at times -- still a considerable improvement. Sandra had treated her kindly from the first moment and did so now.

In the middle of handling some routine processes, came in an interesting series of events, which Sandra had Maya handle, with Sandra's help.

"Eagle 25 calling Command Center." It was Bill's voice.

"Maya, go ahead and accept it."

"Bill, this is Command Center."

"Eagle 25," Sandra corrected.

"Eagle 25, this is Command Center. Go ahead."

"My Winch Eagle is in position to lift the first completed Hauler 'pod' to Landing Pad 6."

Maya looked at Sandra, who looked at the Commander, so Maya looked at the Commander.

"Approved," he said.

"Tell Bill he can proceed," Sandra instructed.

"Eagle 25, you may proceed, Bill."

"Confirmed to proceed, Maya. Eagle 25 out."

"Maya," Sandra said, "call up the construction crew and warn them of Eagle 25's approach and why. Then bring up the view of the construction site on the Big Screen. Do you know how?"

"Yes." She did so.

Eagle 25 came in slow and high, lowering its winch, keeping just above the minimum needed to engage partial anti-gravity to keep it hovering with only minimal lift thrusters, to avoid blasting the astronauts below. The astronauts took over guiding Bill to move his Eagle so the hook was in position over the center of gravity of the rig. A metal 'eye' had been welded on the central axis of the 'pod' and it was soon engaged, the rig, large but relatively light, being lifted from its construction jig. Both the construction site and Landing Pad 6 were away from the base, the latter even more than the former; but within a minute, the 'pod' was being lowered gently to the pad. Bill then separated and moved away.

"Maya, order Alan to fly in and attempt docking," the Commander ordered.

She did so, and Alan brought in a podless Eagle 1, and cautiously brought it in for a landing on top of the unique new pod.

After a minute: "Eagle 1 to Alpha. I have a successful dock and lock."

This time, the Commander punched up the commsystem himself. "Good, Carter. Take it up for a first flight."

"Confirmed, Commander, first flight for Alpha's first new type of Eagle pod designed since Breakaway."

"Good luck."

The ungainly-looking combination turned out to be fairly easy to fly, according to Alan's verbal observations, him also adding: "Given that she's somewhat slower to turn, I'm still surprised how relatively light feeling she is."

Maya thought it an interesting design. Looking around, she noticed all the humans seemed entranced, or impressed, or something. Given it was their first new Eagle pod since Breakaway, they evidently enjoyed seeing it. Then again, so did she, especially recalling how a line from a legendary poem she knew had indirectly led to it.

Alan took it up into space, followed by a support Eagle, to start some general maneuvering tests, at one point approaching a few hundred meters of a high resolution photosat, which briefly shined a light on the Eagle. Command Center personnel now had a remarkable image of the strange bird. The salvaged metal glinted in some places, but also betrayed its origin from a destroyed alien ship and rapid work by other Alphans. The metal was discolored in some splotchy patches, as one Terran put it. Besides the metal beams, it had different colors elsewhere, like one pair of counterweights being jet'black, and another pair being multicolored. Someone suggested the whole rig should be painted white at some later point. Yet despite these comments, that didn't seem to dampen anyone's pride in having purpose-built the new rig. Indeed, the Commander ordered Sandra to post this photo at a later point.

Maneuvering tests continued, and Command Center soon stopped monitoring the chatter as they practiced.

Maya and Sandra settled back into some more "routine" training, now more on scanner and sensor systems, which she loved working on. There was redundancy -- not really redundancy, actually. It seemed there were usually two people, one of them often Sandra, who would monitor what was happening around the Moon, while Sandra, or Yasko, would handle communications. Maya was simply being given a range of practice scenarios and systems.

At the end of the four hours, and some 'good job's later, she was dismissed. She had made some minor mistakes, but Sandra's corrections and clarifications were gentle, seemingly unconcerned, and the others seemed to think she had done well. She was determined not to make any of the same mistakes twice. With the shared meal earlier and now a short-notice shift in Command Center, it had turned out to be a wonderful second'part to her day. She retired to her quarters, nearing the end of her day, feeling buoyed.

T-386 DAB 2130-0040: Fire and Glass

Maya was talking with her mother, talking about a variety of topics, none new, but new details, as always. Studies, social'fabric, boys and men, motherhood. Adolescent Maya listened intently.

The birds sang as they sat outside, on a blanket on the grass. A flutter'flyer danced about in the air around Taylia. "You have to start calling me Taylia sometimes now, in larger groups. You have become an adolescent."

"But you are my mother."

"You've heard other adolescents do the same. We are family, and bonds are tight; but in a few years, you will have to start making your own decisions. You will have to start separating yourself partially from us to make your own life, have your own role, find your own mate, and together with your own husband, create your own family."

"I still want to call you Mother."

"And you can, just less and less in larger group situations. Same about Father. He is Mentor. Your grandparents...."

It was almost directly from memory at first, Maya's dream, but like most dreams, timelines slipped and collapsed. A volcano exploded in the background. The timing in Maya's life was the same, but Taylia had been far away at the time. Here in the dream, she remained, and even had more and different words for Maya.

"Our world is dying," Taylia said sadly, "and you will have to make a decision on whether to stay or go."

"But that is up to you and Father."

"We are still ultimately responsible, but you now have a say."

The ground underneath them shook. They fled, hand in hand, down the formerly peaceful hill. The flutter'flyers spontaneously ignited and fell to earth, setting the grass on fire. The air grew sulphorous. Leaf'fatworms started raining down, out of the trees. Nectar'buzzers became flaming darts, threatening to set the hair or dresses of Maya and Taylia alight. A tree in front of them turned into a torch of flame. Amphicroakers started croaking a new tune as they were being cooked in their own swamps, Drak...tae, Drak...tae, Drak...tae, screaming in Psychon that they were being killed.

Distracted and frightened, Maya suddenly realized Taylia's hand was not in hers. She stopped and turned around, screaming her mother's name. Mother was gone, somewhere in a lava flow. Maya cried out for her, screaming "Mother" and "Taylia" -- but it was no use.

Father appeared in front of her. "You can leave with everyone else, or stay with me to save the planet."

"Where is Mother? Where is Taylia?"

"She died from the first new volcano."

Maya choked in the sulphorous air.

"I want to stay with you, Mentor my Father, to help you save the planet."

"Good, come with me."

They ran, hand in hand. In his other hand was a miniature Psyche. He pointed it at one volcano. It faded. Two more appeared. He aimed it at one of them. It stopped. Three more appeared. A tube jumped out of Psyche to one of them, it faded; but now they were stuck in one place. Four more volcanos appeared. Maya knew her father could overcome this. Psyche's tendrils began jumping all around them. A tiny field with one tree remained. Taylia suddenly had a grave. Psyche was growing huge; it looked like a volcano itself. Spaceships came. Mentor started grabbing them and throwing them into Psyche/volcano.

"Father, no! They came in peace, to help us!"

"A pretext, to attack us."

He did the same to the next ship, only the aliens inside looked terrified.

"Father, you can't. Psyche is making you do evil!"

A large bird with a white head fluttered down, looking ready to tear at Psyche. Maya pushed it right at Psyche, to do what it wanted -- what had to be done. Destroy Psyche.

"Understand, Maya--"

Psyche/volcano blew up, and her father was gone. Maya screamed. She screamed herself awake.

Almost half her life, compressed and somewhat distorted into a short but horrible nightmare. She shook, sweaty, got off the bed and paced around, anxiously, before trying to let a shower soothe her. It didn't work.

She had not confronted the dreams about the very end of Psychon, of her father's death. Yet she fled again, or not so much fled as got caught up in the horror of her mother's death. The irony of her two parents' deaths had not been lost on Maya, of Taylia dying from the first volcano run suddenly wild, as the ongoing environmental degradation accelerated, and her father in effect from the last, so-long-restrained one. It had shown up in other ways in her dreams, of Alphans sometimes not throwing her to vacuum, but fire. Fortunately, those dreams of fear were fading, and while her nightmares overall declined a little, there was still a metaphoric vacuum, being filled with more dreams of Psychon.

This was the most vivid return to the time of her mother's death, not long into Maya's adolescence. Taylia, burned and suffocated to death inside a badly damaged atmoflyer which had survived as sort of a temporary tomb for her and her colleagues. Maya had not seen the results, other than a funeral and final tomb, and she gave thanks that her nightmares were not of a burned Taylia, just a vanished one; but that was little comfort.

She looked at the picture of her mother, so beautifully done by Annette. It helped her for a little while, but the images became overwhelming again. Maya paced. She was supposed to meet Tony for a meal and a visit to "another new place" for her, starting in only 63.47 minutes, but how could she do so with all this in mind?

Helena had turned in early. It had been rare, with her job and the frequent danger Alpha came under, or needing to catch up with routine administration after the calls were done. It wasn't necessarily that she was working all evening, though she was often on call and sometimes had to do so. After work, she was like most other people, needing time to unwind, even at the cost of a little sleep. Not tonight, however. She had purposefully ended the work day early, feeling the strong need to do so. Bob was first call this evening. John had been busy, unfortunately, so she had curled up with a book for awhile, and gone to sleep before 21:30.

She had been asleep only about ninety minutes when a call from the outside of her room interrupted. She got up and turned on her commpanel, and was surprised to discover Maya was outside, not recalling any instance where Maya had come here uninvited. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, it was not difficult to see Maya's eyes were troubled.

"I am sorry to disturb you during normal sleep'time," Maya said, "but I wish to talk, unless you would prefer me to return at a better--"

"No, that is fine," Helena said, walking over to retrieve a robe as she said, "Come in." Helena had long since unlocked her door to Maya's commlock, and Maya simply opened it then and walked in, looked at a lounge chair, and before Helena could offer, Maya asked if she could sit. "Of course," Helena said, sitting herself in the neighboring chair.

Helena already had a guess what this might be about, despite having discontinued the medical wrist monitor again a couple of days ago. Maya was still having nightmares, not in every full sleep period, but many of them. More than six weeks of them had to be taking some toll, despite Maya not outwardly showing any before.

When Maya said nothing, as if still trying to fight some resistance or last lingering trust issue or Psychon-to-alien concern, or maybe something as silly as thinking maybe some small talk was needed, Helena prodded slightly: "Just talk."

"It has been horrible. The nightmares are fading, but their statistical best'fit curve is not declining fast enough." For a short period, Maya talked numbers and clearly avoided the main point.

Finally, Helena reached out and touched the other woman's arm, saying, "Maya, just tell me the latest one, or whatever you want of it."

Maya smiled wanly and briefly at the gesture, then started talking. Stumbling at first, it slowly unfolded. A nightmare, or part of one. An idyllic scene, complete with what sounded like a butterfly dancing about Maya and her mother, only for the scene to turn volcanic. Maya and her mother running, Taylia vanishing and her father appearing, trying to save them.

The imagery was powerful even to Helena. Flaming butterflies setting alight the grass of the family home. What were presumably some sort of frog-like creature croaking out the Psychon word for death. Maya's mother simply vanishing in a heartbeat and poor Maya screaming, in her dream, for her.

Old, mostly healed wounds re-opened by her father's death, her world's death.

Whether Maya was discussing the whole nightmare was unclear, but there was a clear difference from the sole prior time Maya had talked about a dream. This time there was an emotional release, Maya's shaky voice turning to sobs. Helena moved her chair next to Maya's, put an arm around Maya's shoulder, and the latter turned to cry on Helena's shoulder, so overcome with emotion that her few coherent words were in Psychon.

Helena had dreamed of Lee often years prior, but remarkably little since Terra Nova. She had dreamed of relatives and friends lost back on Earth, various Breakaway-like motifs of being pulled apart. On Terra Nova, she had gone through what had seemed to her was the death and destruction of everyone and everything Helena still knew at that point. She could understand the feeling such losses, could understand the torment, at least in her way. Maya also had to deal with the loss of her entire planet, being marooned among aliens, and what she had touched on a little before but not now, her own father's actions.

Maya trailed off, then straightened up. This time, it was not an apology for "taking" Helena's time or such self-deprecating statements frequently heard from Maya, but simply: "Thank you for listening, Helena."

"Any time, Maya. If you want to talk more now...."

"No, Tony said he was going to be up late today, that we could meet for my breakfast -- a snack for him I guess -- and some place I have not seen before."

"Oh? What?"

"I don't know. Another surprise. Main Observation was a surprise. Oh, Annette did something I did not expect."

"Oh?" Helena asked. Annie was doing a lot of things Helena did not expect, and since the moment she had wanted to leave Medical Center, during the Psychon crisis, to return to her post, or the stilted first introduction to Maya turning around into friendship.

"She gave me a painting of my father. I was surprised. I would not have accepted an offer to do so, like I did accept over Mother. Maybe she knew that, for she just did it, and painted Mentor like Annette could not have known him, like he could not have appeared on any of your video screens. She told me that if I had a picture of my mother, I had to have one of my father more like how I knew him before. She said she was working on it almost as early as she started on the one of Mother. I partially understand, but partially do not. How could she stand painting a picture of your people's enemy?"

"As you said, she was painting a picture of her friend's father as known earlier."

"Still.... Would it not have been... what is the word? Un-setting?"

"Unsettling. Maybe. Maybe it was theraputic to her as well."

"Theraputic?"

Helena wasn't sure if Maya was asking for clarification of the word or simply dubious about its application. "Healing for her, in a way, to take a source of pain and fear and turn it into something positive for someone else. Sometimes humans will turn directly into a source of excessive fear and conquer it, perhaps sometimes taking it too far. Excessively fearing heights but turning around to jump out of a small aircraft. People--"

"Out of an air'craft?"

"With a parachute."

"Parachute?"

Helena described it, but feeling her point somewhat lost in explanation, added another metaphor. "Someone fearing a breed of dog that has a needlessly bad reputation but knowing in her mind that it is a good breed, and deciding to bring one home to be a pet." Suddenly wondering if the dog or pet metaphor was also lost on Maya, she returned in a different way to the first. "Or needing to get quickly from one city to the next, being terrified of flying in a large passenger plane, but painting a picture of an airplane, sketching himself sitting calmly in a seat and looking out the window, turning it into something that is not frightening on paper, and eventually facing the core fear itself. Different people may do it in different ways."

"I think I understand. Still, I cannot believe how generous your people have been. All these gestures, many more meals than I expected. A whole tenth of Alpha showing up for my birthday. Despite what you said aboard Eagle 4 that day, my expectations were low, and even if there are many that never come to fully accept me, I so appreciate what I have been given here. I do not know how I can repay that."

"Nothing more than your continued friendship."

Maya smiled, and nodded gently. "Always." Almost as she said it, Maya noticed the a copy of the framed picture Bill had taken of Maya, John and herself, Tony, Janina, and Annette, all laughing at the party.

"Bill and Annette gave you a smaller copy too? I am glad."

"Absolutely."

They hugged, and Maya left, not wanting to be late meeting Tony. Maya always seemed to get to places a few minutes early. Phenomenal and very polite sense of timing.

Helena mused about Tony. He was still bringing up suspicions, but no longer about Maya herself, it seemed. Helena thought more closely about John's comments to her about the strained end to the Main Observation visit some had made with Tony and Maya. Tony just didn't seem to know when to be quiet or at least gentler about minor points about her father. It was a valid security question, but he had been the proverbial bull in a china shop about it.

Helena had been right, though. Frequent exposure to each other had slowly eased Tony's early and persistent suspicions about her. Fortunately, he had compartmentalized as she had hoped, which allowed him to start letting the suspicion fade and the friendship start growing, and they still seemed to be in each other's company a few times a week, either at the cafeterias, the gyms or jogs in the under-Tube, or such.

Maya seemed to be responding to Tony's change of heart. Perhaps more.... Annette had shown Helena the framed picture Bill had taken at the party, which Helena had asked for a copy. Helena had looked through the other photos, and had stopped at the one of Maya giving Tony a bit of a different look, contented yet wistful -- maybe. "I spotted that one too," Annette had said. "I thought maybe she was giving Tony a look of mild interest; Bill thought maybe he had just said something nice and she was glad his suspicions were fading and wishing they would be completely gone."

Helena had said little. It could have been either case, as it was a subtle and brief expression by an alien. Yet one who had shown clear curiosity about the genetic results, perhaps already realizing that if she was going to end up living her life out with humans, that maybe she would want more than just life, but family as well. Was Maya already starting to look, even if only a bit? The video had shown Maya was very quick to quash that expression, whatever it was. On top of cultural differences, even if minor, in courting, crushing signs of her own interest might not help. There was probably nothing there, but if so.... Tony, of all men? Then again, there was something to be said for winning a guy over. Maybe John had unwittingly become something of a matchmaker in this case. Helena laughed. If it ever proved true, she could just imagine him rolling his eyes if she ever mentioned it. Helena smiled. Too early to tell, and pushing Maya when it might be nothing would not be helpful. She filed the thoughts away, thinking that as in other contexts with Maya, perhaps letting things progress mostly on their own, but with a little bit of prodding at the right moment, was best.

Still, Helena knew Tony may have been almost completely won over by Maya as a person, but that still left the professional side. Helena knew, from routine Command Conferences, with just the officers, that Tony still had little expectation of Maya as a regular team member, and treated her salvage survey lead role as a limited, controlled situation not very reflective of field work. "Small" positive signs there, in training on Alphan tech, in the Science Board, in weapons training, and such, just did not seem to add up to "junior officer" in his mind. He seemed to have reservations about Sandra as "senior officer" as well, despite her already leading one of the sections. Helena could admit to understanding some of his hesitation, but still, he sometimes seemed semi-blind to some positives right in front of him.

In mulling all this over in regard to Maya, Helena suddenly had an idea.

She checked John's commlock status, and discovered that despite it being a few minutes after midnight, he was still on active standby. She called him and found he was in Conference Room CC. It figured. She suddenly felt a little guilty for having gone to bed early, even though she had already known that before. She set it aside, and headed there. She found him starting to put names to the various Flight teams. Tony was listed under Op. Salvage Cities -- Flight 2. That would not do.

After some brief chatting, she asked, "What about Tony on Flight 1, with you and Maya and whoever you choose as the fourth?"

"Then who would you put in lead of Operation Salvage Cities?"

She thought for a moment, then said, "Alexander Karedepoulos. Ancient 'rotting cities' sound like a good thing for him to check out."

"He hasn't led a team before. Besides, I was considering an idea of putting him on Flight 1, to help figure out where this mystery 'key' is located in Glasscit."

"Glasscit?"

"What someone, I forget who, dubbed the 'city under glass.'"

"Oh. Well, good idea to put him on Flight 1."

"Actually, it was Sandra's idea."

"Sandra?"

"She speculated it might be a very large alien city, and that we may need interpretations of much more intact alien architecture."

"Didn't you say Maya and Alexander don't get along well together."

"I told Sandra that too, and she said: 'Maya can get along with anyone who gives her a chance.'"

"Well, she's right about that," Helena said, before concluding, "Alien architecture, interpreted two people: one of them an alien, and one of them an architect. Perfect symmetry."

John laughed briefly. "It became an easy decision, actually, I just didn't get his name on the board yet," he said even as he walked over to do so. "Besides, Alexander knows I was not pleased with how poorly he treated Maya the first time. I doubt he'll repeat that, so hopefully they'll stay professional."

"Well, who else would you put to lead Flight 2 then, to the rotting cities?"

"You are asking me when you are the one suggesting moving Tony from it?"

"Sure," she said, trying to hold off a little smile. He sometimes had amusing reactions when she did that sort of thing.

He rolled his eyes, which at the moment, she actually found charming, and said, "Well... maybe Osgood."

"Which one?"

"Patrick."

"Isn't he a miner?" Helena asked. "Working on expanding the Catacombs?"

"Demolitions expert, leads a team, good at scanner systems."

"Okay. How about an Exploration team?"

"Already got the two of the teams who will be on base at the time out on two Eagles in Flight 2, and since Sanderson's team was held here, I might put him and his team on board a third Eagle of Flight 2, which is where I was going to have Tony as the pilot and Flight lead."

"Keep an eye on Sanderson?"

"I'm fine with Sanderson going out with his team. He violated Security protocol, but his team is already the best, and usually stays out a full-month cycle rather than three weeks or going out less often like other teams. I'm not going to put him in charge of a full Flight, at least not on this mission."

"What if you have Patrick in lead? Greg led by an equal from another department? He may resent it on what may look like an Exploration mission."

"That's his problem, and if he makes it anyone else's problem -- about taking orders -- I may have to remove him from giving orders, or keep him strictly on lunar survey missions. So, Helena, why add this complication by taking Tony off Flight 2, for Flight 1 instead?"

"If you need to split the team, with two people who've not been on off-Moon missions before."

"True," John said, adding, "and Tony is good at playing devil's advocate during brainstorming."

Helena nodded.

"Okay, out with it," John said.

"What?"

"You've got another reason in mind."

John was getting better and better at reading her. "Maya."

"You mean her and Tony. It looks to me like Tony trusts her now."

"You know what I mean. Personally, he's fine with her now. Professionally, he has severe doubts."

"I know. I have my doubts too."

"Not like he does, and you and I both feel she's got a lot of potential."

"So you want Tony to see her on a mission, even though she's not going to be a lead. If she has problems, though, professional confidence of Tony in her may be damaged."

"Or he might see them as minor or moderate deficiencies which can be trained out. Didn't you say, at least once, that we all have our rough edges."

He paused with merely a nod, and then said, "You know I am only going to go along with this because you're right, not because it is you saying it."

Helena laughed. "Of course." More seriously, she said: "That is how it must always be, as I'm sure you know, no matter what." After another pause, she changed the subject somewhat. "What I don't understand is what we expect to send through this Alkinarda Bridge if we can unlock it. The Moon?"

"I hope so. I asked Maya about that possibility. She looked startled by the question, and said she did not know what the limits might be."

Helena sighed. "If we can't send the Moon...."

"Operation Exodus, to the planet, or maybe Operation Lifeboat Eagles."

"Through the Bridge? To what?"

"I don't know," John said.

"Are we convinced how dangerous the Alkinarda is?"

"Douglas McLeod has been running more simulations. As originally calculated, after the Kaskalon star system, we'd hit something of a relative gap in the blue-giant Shepherd stars and could suffer a severe energy drain keeping the screens up against the radiation of the stars. McLeod is thinking they're shielding any readings from beyond the nebula-like Veil behind the stars, even indirect readings. By the time we get close enough to separate stars from the material behind, we might be in the system, or beyond it."

"Maya was dubious about settling Kaskalon itself," Helena reminded.

"I've asked her again. She says she's forgetting at least one poem, but is remembering some interpretation or rumor that no one has settled there. Tony has mentioned it sort of makes sense that the Orcayi may have set up something that prevents anyone from lingering at what could be a very strategic point in space to control."

"So if we can't find the key to the Bridge, cannot start Operation Exodus, and have nowhere for lifeboat Eagles to travel towards either, we may plunge into the Alkinarda."

"Yes. We either survive it like the Black Sun, or us and the whole Moon gets torn apart by the heart of the Alkinarda."

Helena sighed. "We're always on the verge of getting destroyed by something. At least we've had some time to try preparing."

"How's morale?"

"Bob, as usual, is in better touch with it, and says there's actually some more hope regarding this situation, and that overall, attitudes seem to be changing more and more. Maybe you were right about the 'year of mourning' as you put it. Or maybe your words even gave people the idea they could get past it in some ways. I don't know, and it may be premature. That we now have had Maya on base for well over a month and she is genuine and of a helpful nature may be starting to restore a little balance, reminding us of what we already saw, that not everyone is hostile to us.

"Then again," she continued, "it is taking awhile for full acceptance to spread. Thirty people at her party is both a lot and not a lot. We may just be seeing those who were already willing to see the positive being the same ones most open to her presence. I can say for sure that having so many weeks go without incident is an enormous boost to morale, and couldn't have come at a better time, after all the prior losses and having to abandon roomier quarters for smaller ones. Some mid-level, mid-sized residential rooms from before may have been reused, but everyone moved and took a hit."

John nodded. "For two months, we've had a spate of petty arguments that Tony thinks really comes down to the combination of low morale and smaller rooms."

"As we expected. Has it been as much as expected?"

"About the same," John answered, "though he said it has mostly dropped off more recently."

"Now, speaking about dropping off, I'm about ready to do so. How about you?"

"Guess so. I'll drop you off at your room."

He lingered there for a minute, and they kissed briefly, but both being tired, it went no further. There was always a reason it went no further, both seeming to hesitate, him the most, maybe still out of respect for Lee.

Still, it was just as well to finally get to sleep. At least she didn't have the nightmares anymore. Dreams of Psyche had faded, and what few she had had of Maya turning into a monster had been confined to earlier anyway.

Thinking about nightmares only brought back the memory of what Maya had described. Hearing some heart-wrenching details about Maya losing her mother was difficult, but as Helena faded to sleep, there was one image Helena herself had trouble escaping: flaming butterflies falling to the ground while bees flew like ignited bullets and frogs croaked "death."

Helena jerked back from half-sleep to almost full consciousness. If that was but a small sample of the horrors afflicting Maya.... Helena suddenly realized the young woman must be even stronger in some ways than Helena had already been giving her credit for. Or she was getting stronger seeing her way through that. Still, it had to be taking a toll too.

Maya had sought out Helena. Whether it was because of cumulative effects or Maya had enough trust in Helena now, and was healing but needed to continue the process by relieving some of the difficulty via sharing it, was unknown.

Helena started slipping back to sleep, and some of the images started reappearing. Hearing about some others' travails could affect the listener too, but Helena immediately thought that if being temporarily haunted by a few such images was the price for allowing Maya to more quickly alleviate her own suffering, it was a very small price indeed.

W-387 DAB 0000-0210: Oversights

It was not because he wanted to see her transform that he finally thought of taking her to one place, but rather he couldn't imagine how he had forgotten it. Maybe because he had last visited with Lena.

"Biosphere Intravenous?" Maya asked, looking bewildered at the label.

"Roman numerals. Biosphere IV."

The outer doors opened, revealing nothing of the inside. They stepped through, and Tony closed the outer doors behind them. There was a moderately strong airflow in here, towards the floor, but he'd explain on the way out. She was just starting to speculate on the word. "Biosphere. Biologic--" The inner doors opened, and he watched as Maya's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. "How absolutely wonderful!" Without needing the slightest bit of encouragement, she stepped in and looked about. Front-most were various fruit trees, the apples growing some fruit. She stepped towards them. "Apple'trees!"

She looked like she wanted to reach for one. Even though she didn't, he thought it prudent to explain: "The fruit isn't to be picked before it is harvested by authorised personnel, and there are some similar rules for other plants; but this is open to everyone, to come here at any off-duty time. This is usually unlit at this time of the night. In the evening and early morning, there is a transition period where lighting decreases and increases, respectively. Once dark, it is not considered open to the public. For a first visit, I thought this would be a good time, and asked to have it lit for ninety minutes; but really, you can visit any other time it is open."

He wondered if perhaps bringing her here at 'night' was not quite as good as making her comfortable being here when other Alphans were, but maybe he'd bring her here some other time, or mention to some of their other mutual friends that she liked this space.

He had had another motive for picking the time, and just as he was about to mention it, she started walking about, exploring, needing no prodding to do so.

"This was built after Breakaway?" she asked.

"No, before. It is third in line of such research facilities of how to maintain a small, isolated biome."

"Third? You called it the fourth."

"Biosphere III was inside a station in Earth orbit. The first was Biosphere II, in the Arizona desert I think. And no, this is not like the clocks. Earth itself was the first biosphere, to us from Earth I mean."

"I understand. Clever."

They explored for awhile, him telling her a bit more about the space and the plants inside and another couple of rules, but also asking her if she and Mentor had kept anything like this.

"No, other than our own hydroponics and a few other plants scattered about the shelter'network, there was nothing like this."

"How was he intending to bring life back to Psychon?" he asked, not thinking, then starting to wonder....

She seemed to take it with some stride as she looked about, as if drawing comfort from the life here. "Psyche stored a lot of molecular patterns of plants and animals and such, but not all that many, because Psychon had lost a lot of species before Psyche was created. Some people who fled Psychon might have been able to bring some back. Perhaps some introductions from other worlds to fill severe niche'gaps."

Increasingly, even as she talked, she was looking up at the treetops more and more, reminding him of something again.

"Go ahead."

"What?" she asked, though he was sure she knew what he meant, and was just wanting to be certain.

"Fly around, if you want. Stretch your wings." He almost cringed at the last sentence; but again, her face brightened, and for some reason, she thanked him. John had said he had encouraged her to keep in practice and keep learning to expand her range. Presumably, she had been doing it in her quarters, away from the sight of others, where she had no real opportunity to fly far or run or anything like that. Tony had no idea how important acting in the new form was as opposed to the act of transforming itself, but she seemed instantly ecstatic at the opportunity here.

"Are you certain?"

"Yes."

"Thank you."

Then she got a really focused look, still with a half-smile, and abruptly, her form started fuzzing over, which struck him, oddly, as vaguely familiar, even though he had not really seen the actual moment of metamorphic transformation before. Deja vu, he promptly assumed. A glow then came over her, into which she vanished. It quickly shrunk to the size of an average bird. The glow faded into the fuzzy outline of an unfamiliar-looking bird on the ground, and the fuzziness faded away quickly. It was colored iridescent blue, bright red, and pitch-black. She looked at him, chattered in a bird-like way for a few moments, then promptly took to the air, flying around.

Tony finally closed his open mouth. He had never seen anything like it before. Part of him felt he should have been freaked out by it, but after his having to turn his back on her as a lioness, even though he had not really seen the act of transformation then, this probably seemed less frightening and just amazing.

Tony's eyes following the bird/alien, still in surprise by what he had seen. He had gotten more used to thinking of her as person. This was a very powerful reminder of her alienness, but he found himself taking it more in stride, even with the surprise and wonder mixed in.

Besides, after his conversation with Alan, most of his lingering reservations about her as a person had faded away, though that left his reservations about her as a potential officer, and the lingering strangeness of her as an alien. How could a person, even alien, do something like that? He'd seen and heard of some very strange things here in deep space, but Maya was such a hard-to-fathom mix of emotional warmth, strange mental powers, and alien beauty.

He watched as she flitted and fluttered about in the trees, chattering a lot, seemingly happy noises, he had to guess.

When he realized that he was happy she was happy, even he had to admit to liking her a lot more than he had expected.

Maya had not believed the sight. There, through an Alphan doorway, was the most nature she had seen in almost half her life. These were no Psychon salad plants in hydroponics solutions, scattered fruit-producing twist'trees, or small rooms of various berry'bushes. This was a large space filled with plants, some relatively familiar, some very alien, in what to her was mass quantity.

She had stepped through the doorway unbidden, looked around a lot as she walked and conversed with Tony, but increasingly, felt the urge to transform and take to the air, in flight which would be much less constrained and almost infinitely more interesting than flitting about her quarters -- or corridors back in the shelter on Psychon, where she had first learned transformation.

Tony quickly guessed what was on her mind, something he was getting a little better at doing, just as she had started understanding him a little better, and via him and others, to start grasping a few of the more subtle points -- though with many more to learn, she knew. He was surprisingly sanguine about his encouragement to her, a far cry from how he had increased physical distance between himself and her right after learning about her metamorphic ability, or the small amount of fear she sensed from him while she had been a lioness.

She thought of the kestrel and the dove, but both still were too strongly associated with bad memories to use casually here, the kestrel for injuring the Commander, and the dove for winging her way into the depths of horror in the pits on Psychon. The dove was a gentle bird, and the kestrel fast and strong, both suited to Maya's personality, so she knew she would likely use their forms again -- but not for awhile yet.

So she found something a little larger than a dove, namely a colorful thorn'hopper, a bright bird that liked to fly among trees of any sort, but named for its tendency to shelter in thorn'trees.

She concentrated, felt the comfortable wash of transformation flow over and through her, brought the deep image of the other into the foreground, embedding the reversion instructions and using parts of the bird's brain dedicated to things of which she had no need, to instead allow herself to attach a small part of her mind. She 'wrote' no instructions other than to listen for the sound 'Maya' spoken loudly, and this time, she did not include any instruction repressing the tendency to make loud noises -- something she had been embedding as an instruction when she practiced in her Alphan quarters. Here, she wanted to do nothing but practice and enjoy her flight.

Her mind shrunk to that, and looking only briefly at the human towering above her, chattering happily for a moment, she then took to the air, and flew about vigorously. These were longer stretches than she had since the halls and -- near the final moments -- caves of Psychon.

There was only the vague memory of such sights through other birds' eyes in the mind of the Maya/bird. She chattered in the excited enjoyment of the sights flowing around her, of twisting in the air, flying among the trees and even through some of the branches. The thorn'hopper was experienced at flying through tight obstacles, so more than anything, Maya had to practice releasing her own humanoid fears and let the bird's instincts guide -- but not dominate -- her. It was a tricky balance in many ways, something that took much practice. Even in bird form, she realized, by simple comparison of her experiences as other birds in a small room, that she needed more of this practice.

She practiced alighting on branches, trying to learn to take advantage of the pre-built instincts while still trying to exert some control. Yet she found herself either letting the instincts take over or taking too much control herself. Lose too much intelligence to operate smartly, or outsmart herself to the point of excessive caution. Her father had warned her about both, that they comprised one of the greater secondary challenges.

There was a whole set of skills regarding molecular transformation, only some of which she had learned -- few of them really mastered yet. She would need more practice, and this occasion was excellent -- and fun.

She watched the human wander slowly about the ground below, sometimes watching her, sometimes just sitting and seeming relaxed. Her avian instincts wanted to watch him as a potential threat, but the part of Maya's mind present repressed that, especially considering the thorn'hopper was prone to occasional semi-random dive bombing.

That same part that was Maya realized she had set no time limits regarding how long Tony might let her do this; but there was no 'Maya' call either, so she just continued flying about, until her 56.2 minutes in this form were about to expire. Then Maya/bird flew down to near the human, chattering happily, and alighted. Reversion instincts took over, and she was soon herself again, but feeling exhilarated. Her arms even felt fatigued for a moment, a fleeting metamorphic 'impression.' She was all smiles.

"You looked and sounded like you enjoyed it," Tony commented.

"Oh, yes, I've never experienced flight in such a large, life-filled space. Thank you for bringing me here."

"You're welcome."

They explored on foot a little longer, slowly working back towards the exit.

They left, Maya not without a look backwards before the inner doors closed and she listened to Tony explain the purpose of the air rushing downwards in the internal airlock system to two doorways, and how it helped keep pollen and small insects from escaping into the rest of the base, while they needed to look around and make sure nothing larger was trying to sneak out with them.

The get-together was not over, for Tony and Maya headed to an all-night cafeteria for her to get breakfast, and him a late-night snack.

Except for Carl van der Mir, who was just leaving, and presumably a cook somewhere in the back, the cafeteria was empty. It was one of Maya's now infrequent meal'time get-togethers with Tony.

There were other occasions, such as exercise, including martial arts he knew. Yet even on that, it was not always Tony. "Survival Training: Level 1" was a new course she was participating in with a few other Alphans, run by someone else -- all of whom tolerated her, neither very friendly, nor unfriendly. Among other things, the class included: climbing skills, food rationing, dealing with excessive cold and heat, and determining how to scan water and potential food for safety. Though Maya could not be poisoned, her testing things mechanically could be for others' safety, and her testing things by taste were not necessarily meaningful for humans.

Tony looked at Maya, whose expression had grown distant. "You know, Maya," Tony started saying, her attention quickly returning to him, "I never did say something I should have."

"What?" she asked, eyes widening a bit in a way he increasingly found attractive.

"That first meeting, when John and Helena brought you into Command Center. I never really said 'Welcome to Moonbase Alpha' or anything like that. Still haven't. I want to give you a proper welcome, as my people back on Earth did it, with a nice Italian meal -- or as much as I can manage with Alphan substitutes -- in my quarters."

It looked like she wanted to answer in the positive at first, like she didn't want to do what she usually did on Alpha. She still did, however, saying: "You don't have to. You have shown me plenty of welcome."

"I have tried, but there is still a big mistake at the beginning." She seemed ready to protest again, but expecting it, he had prepared a different tack. "You want to miss out on some Italian hospitality?" he said with an exaggerated hurt expression that he thought Maya would know how to interpret correctly.

There was little resistance, and was soon shaking her head at his question, then accepting verbally, saying simply, "I accept. Thank you."

"Fantastic. A belated real welcome. Like it was the first day, only this time, I have some manners."

Maya got a curious look, one of those he sometimes had trouble interpreting, but feeling light-hearted, said, "And no jokes about me never having manners."

"I did not have any such joke."

"You know, I actually find that surprising," he said, this time with mock disappointment -- or maybe even some real disappointment. "Somewhere in you is more of a sense of humour just waiting in the wings -- er, just waiting to escape."

Maya, though, had been thinking not so much about his manners -- or metamorphic manner towards her -- but the words before. Like it was the first day. A curious thought had struck her immediately, but she was not sure....

They agreed on Sunday evening, when it would be supper'time for both.

Part of Maya was wondering if this one-on-one private meal, which he had framed as an improved belated welcome, was in some way a romantic meal too. He had not framed it as a "date" -- as she had learned many of the Alphans curiously called various kinds of romantic meals or such between mutually interested unattached males and females -- so she felt foolish even thinking of such questions.

R-388 DAB 1000-1200: Equational Flight

As Alan flew co-pilot with Maya as trainee pilot, he was relaxing just a little.

She and Sandra had started out with opposite tendencies in simulators: aggressively pushing the limits of machine in Maya's case, and meekness in letting the machine get ahead of her, in Sandra's case. First flights had seen them each far improved, and continued practice was only helping further.

There was no doubting Maya's raw flying talent. She seemed able to handle just about anything he threw at her now. There was something to be said for her way of learning Eagle flight by detailed flight control specs, flying it that way, and even adjusting to off-spec behavior in flight and then being able to report on it, in detail, post-flight. Three prior real Eagle flights, and all three times she had some comments on subtle -- and in one case not so subtle -- off-spec behavior. She was creating more work for Eagle Maintenance, but that was a good thing, and Diane was handling it very professionally.

This was Maya's fourth true flight, and it was only somewhat coincidental that she was flying Eagle 4, the same one which had brought her to Alpha for the first time. It even had the same laboratory pod. Some time before, he had given her the specs on that pod and how its extra boosters and tiny thrusters figured into flight controls. She had absorbed it, and simulator flights with this pod showed virtually no decline in performance, again reflecting how her equational approach to flight could work well.

As they flew for real, he found himself realizing he was almost relaxed about her tendency of treating the Eagle's flight computer almost as an afterthought. He had finally gotten her to respect the need to at least keep it up to date, while he had finally gotten himself to respect that she could treat it as a formality only. It was a good compromise, he felt. Plus, if she suddenly got knocked unconscious for some reason, there would at least be a current course plotted in the system.

He was on musing on this again as they approached Alpha and happened to spot the Hauling 'pods' as they continued to receive work. Suddenly, something struck him.

"Dumb 'roo!"

"Alan?" Maya asked.

"No, no, keep flying, I just thought of something unrelated." It was not entirely unrelated; but he didn't want to distract her. Then again, pilots were supposed to be able to handle distractions.... "Actually, Maya. You know Flight 3 at Kaskalon is supposed to haul off metal if there are fragments of a destroyed station in orbit, right?"

"Right," she said, evidently now used to using that word in this manner, which she had not been early in training.

"We have a problem with the Moon being out of real-time communication range for much of the time at Kaskalon, and Eagle flight systems not having the hardware or software capacity to handle all the additional variables involved in doing it real-time."

"I do not think I can solve the software issue without much more time, and the hardware issue, I don't know enough at all to--"

"No, not each computer's system, but you."

"Me? I don't under.... Oh, I understand. There is only one of me, though I suppose if I could divide time and fly Eagles -- but I have duties on Flight 1...."

"Actually," he said, "I meant that since you'll be at the planet too, if we could set up a data link allowing you to view Eagle position and flight data, do you think you give navigation instructions to a pilot fast enough that they could use such instructions to fly a course that would put the assumed metal chunks on a long arc that puts it onto a nearly parallel course for a shallow, relatively 'soft' crash on parts of the Moon well away from Alpha and other sensitive locations?"

"Unknown masses. Interesting set of variables. Real-time calculation? Sounds like fun."

It was a curious and amusing response, one which instantly sounded like trademark Maya. He laughed, and still smiling a bit, said, "Is it feasible? Is it safe?"

"At first opinion, it seems so. I would have to hear more details and probably ask some more questions, and think about it a little more. Do you wish to discuss this now?"

"No, let's finish this flight first, then we'll get you more up-to-date on current plans, and discuss the relay possibility."

It wasn't a certainty yet, but Alan was excited. If this worked, they could start hauling any debris starting as soon as perhaps eight hours after arrival in orbit, rather than having to wait days for the Moon to be close enough.

Plus, it would only occupy the Science Advisor for 5-10 minutes for each Hauler Eagle ready to do the burn, allowing her to mostly stay focused on her Flight 1 mission.

The current flight soon came to the critical portion of landing, which Maya handled very well. Maya went through Initial Shutdown procedures, then per plan, Eagle 4 was brought down the lift with them on board. Alan listened as Maya communicated with "Eagle Nest" as the Eagle was picked up and moved to its parking spot. Maya then went through Final Shutdown procedures.

As always, training or not, there was a tech team ready to inspect the Eagle and first to hear any concerns, or find out whether a recently-repaired system was working well. Eagle 4 had been flown by others since repairs were completed, but this was Maya's first flight of it. Alan was surprised to see Eagle Maintenance department manager Diane Bell there as well. Everyone greeted each other cordially and professionally.

Amusingly, the technical man looked nervous, seemingly not so much about Maya herself as how much workload Maya's observations might add. A term had cropped up: Maya Flight.

Once Maya gained Level 1 certification, she would need to keep it current, and she might seek Level 2 as well. Maybe she would fly enough to keep a pace that would allow for her style of tolerance testing every Eagle within a year or two. She could not be a full time test pilot in the usual sense, as they took more frequent flights; but to overlook her ability to provide detailed flight analysis would be foolish, for it provided a piece of the maintenance puzzle missing for a year: access to the same sort of detailed information provided by the Tolerance Testing Rig at Accipiter Systems -- back on Earth.

Of course, even with that lower frequency of flights, her time could not necessarily be counted on. To rely completely on a single person, a single resource of unpredictable availability, was equally foolish. Ideas had already been bandied about between Alan, Jim Haines, and, before his death, Ernst Linden, to try to construct some sort of Tolerance Testing Rig on Alpha. Even a less sophisticated version would be a complicated undertaking, but still valuable, Maya or not. Alan was not about to abandon those plans.

He walked away from the conversation, having already heard some of Maya's comments during the flight. Diane had overseen the final stages of repair to this Eagle, so maybe she wanted to hear what might have been missed on it during both Garforth's and her own tenure as department manager. Perhaps she was also curious just to hear one of Maya's verbal reports directly, and not just see only the written "Best Fit Estimate'equations" -- an amusing mix of human and Psychon-like written lingo.

In the anteroom, Alan signed himself off the flight, knowing Maya would do the same once she made her initial verbal report. He would grade her latest flight a little later, after....

Alan headed by Travel Tube to the central areas of the base. He found John in Command Center, and quietly but briefly discussed the training flight itself with John. When Sandra arrived, he indicated he wanted to talk with both of them, about Flight 3 at Kaskalon. They both moved to the nearby meeting room, and Alan discussed his sudden realization Maya might be able to help direct many of the early hauls, while Alpha and Main Computer were still out of communication range of the planet.

John looked dubious. "I know and further heard she's good with computation, but have not really seen much of it directly. But is she really that good?"

Alan, taking a drink of water, left a pause into which Sandra commented, "Yes, I think so, Commander."

"But to calculate a course for a huge fragment of metal bigger than the Eagle hauling it, and translating it to a course in real time. Besides, translating an Eagle course to real time thrust vectors and ultimately the controls...."

Sandra looked a little confused, first at John, then at Alan, and Alan knew why.

"There's a little something I didn't get into about our new trainee. I nearly drove her to washing herself out of the program because we had a conflict over how she wanted to fly the Eagle."

"Really? Don't tell me. She wanted to fly it mathematically."

"Something like that. Well, that, really. She kept asking for lots of technical information, but I tried to train her out of her calculating habits, thinking them interfering with proper flight. She didn't understand flying by 'feel,' had a lot of difficulty in simulations, and tried to withdraw, so I finally just gave her specs. She absorbed the specs about how flight controls translated to all the various thrust vectors, by equations on each. She can know where she's flying, account for all the meaningful gravity sources, still accept discovery of new ones, and even realize and adjust for out-of-tolerance behavior. The hell if I know how she manages all that real time and seemingly unconsciously, but she does, and in the process treats the Eagle flight computer as a mere formality. She only does that much because I insisted she update it on course changes in case she were injured mid-flight, so the computer and co-pilot would know where they were."

John sat back. "I've seen her do this with these sort of drawings," he said, arcing his hand towards her spatial course diagrams, "but to that degree of even greater and more rapid complexity? Why did she even have to write down a few bits of intermediate spatial information, then? Then again, McLeod told me the calculations run through computer could have filled a book-sized volume if it had been printed out, and she wrote on a scrap of paper. I guess your jokes that day about using her as a backup Eagle computer weren't far off the mark. Good thing you kept her in the program."

"Not my proudest moments before that. I can be set in my ways sometimes, but I've never had someone wash out of my training yet, and would have hated to add that black mark to my record."

John laughed, then turned serious and said, "You figure out a pilot she can give instructions to in simulation. Get him up to speed on Flight 3 and this new possibility. Sandra, talk to Douglas McLeod and June Washington about getting their current programming modified for this scenario, and getting a scenario into the Eagle simulator. Make sure they back up their current programming, as we can still use it when the Moon gets within communication range of Kaskalon. I'll talk to Maya myself and make sure she understands all the variables and see if she still thinks it is feasible. Let's see if we can't get all of this worked out to have her and a pilot working a simulation by the end of the day. We have only six days to mission launch."

R-388 DAB 1300-1700: Strong Opinions

This was not a discussion session Maya was looking forward to. She and Abigail Strong, the manager of the Botany department, were both on the Science Board, and Abigail seemed barely tolerant at best. Even making the arrangements, at the Commander's request, had been a little fractious, over conflicting schedules, leaving Maya feeling she'd rather talk further about the new Eagle scenario with Alan. She really did want to learn more about Alphan plants, however.

The greetings were professional but brief, and there was no attempt at small'talk by Abigail, while Maya quickly gave up her feeble attempt.

The conversation was strictly professional, albeit a little fractious. Abigail showed Maya plants, and talked about how some of the plants were for food, for plants that did not respond as well to hydroponics techniques as others, and some for research. Maya found out more details about how the food plants were still part of research, to try to increase production, and some of the plants being researched for possible food or medicinal uses, including some alien plants gathered. The fact that some plants were also used as decorations throughout the base and in individuals' room, was a secondary factor, but nonetheless important, though most were still part of research.

Maya knew a few of the details from other sources or via Science Board discussions, but patiently listened, asked questions where needed, and made a few observations. Abigail listened, answered questions, asked a few of her own, professionally albeit with minimal tolerance. Maya began to think that with Abigail, that her thoughts were somewhat welcome, a lot more welcome more than Maya herself.

Maya met Shermeen Williams again briefly. Shermeen was some years younger than Maya, a student visiting Alpha in a special botanical research program of some kind, before Breakaway. Shermeen didn't seem to mind Maya, but they had interacted very little since their initial meeting, and interacted only momentarily now.

After Shermeen left, Abigail took Maya to a different lab. Inside were several different varieties of fungus.

"Oh, I didn't know you were also researching funguses."

"Fungi," Abigail corrected Maya curtly. "Fungus, singular. Fungi, plural."

"Thank you," Maya said politely, despite Abigail's tone.

Abigail walked over towards a part of the room holding several samples of what appeared to be the same, amorphous, rather large fungus. "We discovered this fungus growing on the Moon."

"On the Moon?" Maya asked as she and Abigail took seats around one table where the fungi were growing.

"The Moon was briefly given an atmosphere and gravity by the inhabitants of the planet called Ariel, and this stuff was found growing in a sheltered spot elsewhere on the Moon, and in a few other places before the atmosphere was removed. We think spores may have been mixed in with the atmosphere we were given."

"Atmosphere, gravity, and a fungus species? Are you certain the fungus was from Ariel?"

"I'm a scientist, so of course I'm skeptical of the pat solution, but it seems most likely. However, some research has shown that spores -- fungal and I hear bacterial -- can survive in cold and vacuum and still be revived."

"Yes, that is what I read."

"So is space filled with spores?"

"I read about hypotheses of such, but I don't have further details."

"This particular mushroom, as some have called it, probably not very accurately, in my professional opinion, shows a lot of potential as a protein and vitamin source."

"I thought the Protein Production Unit provided protein Chemical department creates some artificial vitamins, and the Texturizer mixes them into the food from the Protpro'unit, I mean the--"

"I know what you meant. Strange way of abbreviating. The problem is we need redundancy, and the capacity of the production unit is limited and is one of several factors limiting Alpha's growth."

"Oh, I see. Necessary redundancy for safety, and additional capacity for building stores or growing."

"Problem with this otherwise excellent source is it has hallucinogenic properties."

"Hallucinogenic?"

"Substances that temporarily -- or permanently if abused -- alters people's minds."

"Oh."

"You sound unfamiliar with it."

Maya understood, but all adult Psychons, even those not full metamorphs, were immune to poisoning, children were rigorously taught what could and could not be eaten, and technology could sometimes remove such substances. Maya decided to explain the last two but leave the metamorphic aspect out of the discussion.

They moved and sat down to discuss the previous attempts to remove the hallucinogenic properties of the fungus. Then Abigail asked, "So what would you do about this?"

"I don't know. I would have to think about--"

"I mean on Psychon."

Maya sat back, and said, "A molecular filter. One of the simplest and earliest molecular technologies."

"Can you build one?"

"I don't know. They were built well after the invention of attryle circuitry, but before yrelicalo -- the words have no equivalents in Alphan. I doubt an electronic version is possible. Perhaps photonic."

"How long?"

"I don't have an answer for that. At least not at present."

"I don't suppose you can just touch them and use your voodoo magic on them."

Maya didn't understand the word voodoo but knew what magic was implying. She was glad she did not discuss molecular transformation with Abigail. "It doesn't work that way," she said, trying not to get irritated, but still adding, "and it isn't magic."

Abigail didn't look satisfied, and even said, "I've heard it is also called molecular transformation."

"It is temporary." Maya was leaving out some subtleties, but what Abigail was asking was simply not possible. Maya's long-repressed sense of humor tried to come back, the thought crossing her mind that maybe Abigail had consumed some of the mushrooms being experimented upon; but Maya dashed the thought as uncharitable about someone not familiar with biological molecular transformation. Abigail was understandably curious, but was being far from polite about it.

"Hmmph, well, then...." Abigail moved on to other topics, mostly of taxonomy, which Maya found interesting and informative, but she had gotten something of a 'she's not that useful' sense from Abigail, like a partial version of the end of the first session with Jim Haines, and like Thomas just trying to tell her only how Alpha currently did things -- yet more professionally embedded.

For some reason Maya was left with the impression of a scientist more interested in short circuits -- short cuts? -- than long, complicated research. When Maya had no immediate answers or 'magic', Abigail lost some interest in Maya's potential, and seemed to become content with teaching Maya. Yet she obviously had to be good or she would not have become a manager.

It was frustrating to deal with people who sometimes acted in such metamorphic manners, yet she quashed her frustration. At least they were willing to deal with her, rather than any number of other fates from ignoring her to imprisoning her to letting her die with Psychon, throwing her out of an airlock, or otherwise hurting her. She would just be patient. It had not always been one of her strongest characteristics, and that weakness had gotten her into trouble several times, letting her curiosity run beyond safety or simple sense until she had been taught otherwise during childhood -- though not without a minor struggle at times since then.

R-388 DAB 1720-1820: Target Practice

Tony, Alan, and John came to Maya's lab after finding she was done with her discussion session with Abigail Strong of Botany. That would be a conversation for another time, John getting right to the point, handing her a brief named "Operation Salvage Station, Initial Proposal #3, Modification 2."

The question was whether she could be on the surface of Kaskalon, and direct a pilot conducting a mass drive using the Hauler Eagles, to enough precision to accelerate a large piece of metal out of orbit, set it on a long arc that would "gently" contact the Moon's path in space. The Moon would scarcely be a 'star' in Kaskalon's sky when this started, making for a small but constantly-approaching target that would require Maya to adjust, as well as to the various orbits about Kaskalon that presumed station debris would have.

She had nodded her head occasionally as she read through it. Alan interrupted her near the end, saying, "Does it seem feasible?"

"Yes, it is only a few variables in practical terms. As long as your pilots would listen to me along these guidelines, it should work."

"The trick is on the next page," John said. "You're familiar with the lunar coordinate system?"

"Yes, Commander, I learned it early in flight training."

"Of course." He pointed at the page she turned to. "There is the list of orthographic cells you have to avoid targeting."

"Okay, that only adds one more variable."

"Several," Tony said.

"One more variable in the form of a... hash table."

"Uh, if you say so."

"Sorry, I did not--"

"Maya, stop apologizing over nothing," Tony said.

Ten minutes later, John, Alan, Maya, Bill, and Tony were located in Eagle Simulation. The new Hauler Eagle simulation variation was set up, thanks to last minute equations by Douglas and programming by June and her people. Bill was in the simulator itself, Maya sat at the external monitoring controls, which simulated a communications session and gave readouts. Alan sat next to her. John and Tony stood above them.

Alan started the simulation, and in a few seconds, Bill 'called' in.

"Eagle 18 to Maya, this is Bill."

"Go ahead, Bill -- Eagle 18."

"Approaching optimal de-orbital point. Ready for data tie-in."

She worked the controls, and said, "Ready. Receiving."

A tape began feeding out of the computer, filled with various navigational numbers: position, speed, and attitude of the Eagle.

She had a piece of paper next to her and a pen in her nimble fingers, in case she had to jot anything, but except for tapping the pen a little, did not use it as she calculated the first figure. "I have you at twenty-two seconds."

"Confirmed."

"Prepare to throttle to five percent, ten right. Sixteen seconds." There was a long pause, and more pen tapping. Maya's face was expressive, but what her face sometimes did not show, her fingers sometimes did. She probably felt like this was a key test for her, perhaps to better determine her role on Alpha. She probably thought an awful lot was riding on it, when Tony felt she need not be so nervous. Either this would work or it would not, and lives were not riding on this new idea. The Commander did not tolerate foolish failure, but himself knew that honest failure happened frequently and was to be forgiven or simply learned from.

"Relax, Maya," he finally said. "Just work the numbers."

She looked up at him briefly with a smile of gratitude, then back down at the monitor. The pen tapping stopped, but her fingers still moved about a little.

"Four. Three. Two. One. Zero, throttle up and turn."

"Confirmed."

She watched the positional information of the Eagle scroll out on the computer tape. However she turned raw data into a planned course so quickly, he had no idea, but she did.

"Throttle to 7, star'board 11. Throttle eight, star'board 10."

The simulation had a bit of a wobble being induced in the mass, for Douglas McLeod had pointed out that this particular tripod design -- wide but not very tall -- was not an optimal one for perfect stability. There was nothing they could do about it, except to adjust. This forced Maya to adapt the numbers quickly. The information raced along, a new line every second, but she seemed to keep up with the growing array of information. Her right hand's fingers closed and opened, though, betraying some returned nervousness.

"Throttle 10, star'board 7. Mass 490 plus/minus 40."

The last was completely unexpected. Alan's eyes quickly went to Maya's rapt face, while Tony looked at John in surprise. All three men knew the mass figure chosen for the exercise, but kept from Maya and Bill, was 519.

"Throttle 12, star'board 4." Another pause. "Throttle 14, star'board 1. Mass 500±30." She continued giving more instructions and information, pauses between each. "Throttle 15, straight ahead."

"Dead center," Alan gently reminded.

"Sorry, throttle 15, dead center. Throttle 16, star'board 2. Mass 505±22. Throttle 18, port 1. Throttle 19. Mass 510±20. Throttle 21, star'board 7." The object was jerking about a little in the simulation. "Throttle 23, port 1, climb 1. Throttle 24, dead center. Mass 511±16."

The figures continued for some time.

"Throttle 44, port 1. Mass 519±1. Throttle 45, star'board 4. Throttle 46, star'board 2. Mass 519±0.5."

Another several minutes of work.

"Throttle 86, port 8. Predicted release point in sixteen seconds, but wait for my... instruction."

Even now, Maya seemed a little afraid of sounding like she was ordering a human around, even though this exercise was about that in a limited situation.

"Throttle 88, port 4 down 1. Hold. Mass 519±0.04. Throttle 89, port 2, port 1, dead center. Confirm."

"Throttle 89, dead center, awaiting release order." Bill was clearly okay with being ordered by a Psychon in this situation.

"Release. Now, now, now."

"Released.... Coming around to follow.... Just about there.... Now in formation, one hundred meters trailing."

"I have your numbers. Estimating destination. Lunar latitude positive 27 plus/minus 10, longitude negative 73, plus/minus 14. No forbidden regions. Latitude 33 plus/minus 4; longitude 74, plus/minus 6." She waited several more seconds. "Latitude degree 34, longitude 74. Further refinement--"

"Is not necessary," Alan said. "I confirm simulated crash point. "Eagle 18, cease simulation.

The four in the monitoring room looked at each other. Alan's idea and Maya's implementation of it had worked so well that the feasibility concerns were obliterated -- except the big one: whether there were any useful, large fragments of metal in orbit of Kaskalon.

"Okay," John said. "Flight 3 will start scouting for large metal fragments immediately on reaching orbit. If any are found, the Hauler Eagles and their spotters should work on welding the chain and spring set up between the Hauler's rig and the fragment. Astrophysics has shown the Eagle computer can compute the optimal de-orbit point. Once a fragment is readied for the burn, that Eagle will contact Flight 1, and Maya will direct the pilot."

"I will get more pilots down here to run simulations with Maya," Alan stated.

"Good." He took Alan aside, and said, "Find enough pilots that will work well with her, and enough for multiple shifts on Flight 3 itself. I want this to be around the clock, since we've estimated hooking up will take 6-9 hours each time. Plus, she will technically be in charge of the Hauler for those few minutes of the burn and just before and after. I'm sure I don't need to point out that if someone is not responding promptly to Maya's orders -- and this goes wrong...."

"Yeah, I know, like target practice against the Moon where seconds count, and we don't want a bull's-eye in the wrong place. Are you sure about this in the first place?"

"There is a risk, but Tony is advising we have a flight of Combat Eagles on standby on Alpha or orbit, and a nuclear charge prepared as backup."

F-389 DAB 0830-0900: Babies and B-Movies

Maya wondered why Tony was being so nice to her all of a sudden. What little visible suspicion he still had about her had seemingly vanished this week, not long after the visit to Main Observation had ended stressfully and a quick dinner had only partially smoothed over it.

In the days after, there was no sign of that. He had started taking her to some parts of Alpha she had not seen before. Biosphere IV had been wonderful, and she realized this had been only the second time where she had used her metamorphic power in the presence of another Alphan for calmer reasons -- and he had seemed remarkably accepting of it, after so many weeks of suspicion and treating it like a measure of last resort rather than something which could seem fun. He had even invited her to a "welcome" dinner to be two days from now.

Given how infrequently they had been eating together since her one-month "milestone" and not needing constant Security escort, she had expected they'd not eat together again between the evening they had visited Biosphere IV and the upcoming supper, but he had asked her to a Friday first-shift breakfast at her snack, and she had readily assented.

It was a pleasant meal, filled with talk mostly about her more recent Eagle flights, Flight 3 to Bridge'world, and the recent flight simulations for the latter.

Afterwards, he asked if she wanted to visit another new location before she went to bed. She agreed. He was smiling oddly, in a way she had learned seemed to be about something special.

She got a little nervous about being brought to a residential block level which she had previously learned was one of the two areas where the Alphan families resided. She wondered if Tony knew that she was not wanted around them. She wasn't sure about every family, for she didn't really interact at all with many of the parents, and only Susan Crawford, George Crato, and a few others had given her verbal or visual statements or evidence of not welcoming her presence around their children. However, no parent had been forthcoming with letting her meet their children, so she estimated a high probability she was generally rejected.

That rejection was still difficult for her, leaving her feeling hollow about something that she felt could have been a joy for her, interacting with babies. It did not matter they were alien. Of course, it did matter to the alien parents. It had dimmed her thoughts of being accepted as a possible mate if she remained here all her life. Even if a man wanted her, and even if she could have a child here, would her children be able to interact with any other child, or would they be rejected too? Would anyone want her and a family with her if their family would be permanent outsiders?

Maya felt little hope of a family, given how many problems there could be, finding a man interested in her, the equally difficult challenge of turning interest into marriage, genetic uncertainty, potential social problems. She was increasingly feeling like her emotions had run away with her early on here, and that it would really be more like years, if ever, before she got serious interest. She'd have to be patient and hope that things changed.

Now, she felt uncomfortable walking through this area. Fortunately, the hallways were empty. First shift had already started, and what parents had to work it had taken their children to other Alphans who worked other shifts. Unless parents worked separate shifts, she suddenly wondered, though this sounded strange for that would allow a whole family little time together except at sleep'time, which was not socially sufficient in Maya's judgment.

When they reached a door labeled Nursery, Maya wasn't sure what it meant. "A room where nurses socialize?" she guessed aloud, having heard that full'permission -- certified? -- Eagle pilots could socialize at a place called the Eagle Aerie Club.

Tony laughed, and as he opened the door, said, "No." They walked into a curiously-decorated anteroom with windows she could not readily see through yet, and Tony explained, "Where the babies often are when both of their parents are working."

Just as she had been thinking about families and being rejected by existing families, and wondering a little about an aspect of human child care, she was put right in the middle of aspects of both situations.

"Tony, I didn't know what Nursery meant. I don't think..." she started saying, not sure what to say without perhaps violating the privacy of the parents. She tried to find a polite way to back out of here, while carefully avoiding looking through the windows, now noticing Carla McNally, sitting at a desk near the door to the main room. Maya had only briefly interacted with Carla. Maya knew Carla had been an assistant of Victor's. Carla's role had been more organizational than scientific, from the days when he had many roles on the Earth and Moon, and somewhat post-Breakaway while helping in other areas of Service, Technical, and Medical. She had a neutral sleeve.

Carla looked at them both, then directly at Tony.

Almost as soon as he stepped inside the Nursery 1's anteroom, he was starting to have second thoughts about this. He had not seen hardly any interaction between Maya and children, and this part of the base was one she had not visited, but he was suddenly recalling his 'neutral ground' idea he had discussed with Sandra on one of Maya's first days here. That had been introducing her to adults. Now, she had been introduced, and.... He realized he had not been thinking. Still, if nothing else, she could look through the windows.

Even his misgivings didn't prepare him for what he heard next.

Carla McNally, one of the part-time nurses, a middle-aged woman who had grown children of her own back on Earth, watched one of the Nurseries for a shift or two each week. He knew at least one other person would be elsewhere in the multi-room Nursery.

She looked at him, and said, "Mr. Verdeschi, I'm sorry, but some of the parents requested that Maya not be allowed in here."

"What?" Tony said.

"I don't agree with it myself," Carla said, looking towards Maya, who was trying to cover up a hurt expression yet starting to nod. "But I have to respect their wishes."

"Which parents?" Tony demanded.

Maya looked a little alarmed.

"Sorry, and their privacy," Carla added.

"That is just outrageous," Tony said, his voice climbing.

"Tony, no," Maya whispered urgently.

Yet louder: "I am going to report--"

"Tony!" Maya hissed under her breath, finally catching his attention. "Some of the babies are probably sleeping," she said in a more normal but still-quiet, concerned voice. "Tony, I want to leave. Now." Maya turned to Carla, and said, "I am very sorry," then, without waiting for Tony, she turned and walked back to the door.

Unnoticed by either one, Carla looked at Maya sadly.

Surprised by Maya's sudden assertiveness, Tony reluctantly followed, into the quiet corridor. Once the door closed behind them, he let loose again.

"I am so sorry, Maya, that is about the most--"

"Understable reaction," Maya interrupted. Tony just about exploded at her response, tired of hearing Maya defer yet again. Perhaps she saw it, for she repeated, in a more soothing voice, "Tony, I understand, I--"

"Well, I don't, and I'm going to report it. John or Helena or someone has to tell those women that you can be trusted around their babies, or get you and them in the same room and--"

"Tony!" she said with a shocked voice. "You just cannot tell or force a mother to trust someone with her child, her baby."

"What, were there weirdos on Psychon too?"

"I don't know what that means. There were some young men or even a few young women who did not know how to act around babies, or boys and girls who would not calm down properly -- the immature. Or the brain-injured or the--"

"A large part of trust forms when one trusted person tells another that a third can be trusted."

"It is a start, but it is different for a mother, especially one with a baby."

"You haven't been a mother; how do you know?"

Maya could have taken offense at his poor phrasing, but he was completely missing the point, and though still somewhat afraid of sounding disapproving, just had to be. "Tony, it is not that hard to understand."

"Women's Intuition?"

"I'm not certain what you mean by that. Do you mean Women's Wisdom?" she asked before realizing humans might not have that term for that or Men's Wisdom -- of which Tony was not displaying much at the moment, or letting his reactions run away with him.

"Yeah, sure, whatever you want to call it, doesn't always make it right."

"Maybe not; but Tony, in this case, it does not matter."

"Of course it does. You're always saying or acting like that, Maya: that your feelings don't matter, you don't matter. Well they do, and you do, and I'm starting to get tired of repeatedly hearing you say otherwise, when you should be learning by now."

She was surprised by his words, and realized she had said that so many times she was having trouble getting her current point across now, though she tried. "You're not understanding--"

"Half of them never interact with you. How are they supposed to learn to trust you? How long would it take?"

She was unsure why Tony was speaking with such certainty now and expecting everyone else to share in it when he had not, even very recently. It was as if he assumed he had been one of the most suspicious of her, and that if he, the Security Officer, was not any more, that others wouldn't be either. No, that did not make much sense. He just had strong opinions and feelings, it seemed.

"Maybe never," she said in response to his question about how long trust with the parents might take. "It really does not matter. They are the mothers of their babies -- parents of their babies I mean," she said, uncertain how they had ended up speaking only of mothers. "If they do not trust me, then--"

"But you are a good person. You're not some monster who is going to run up to steal their babies like in some B-movie."

"A movie with insects in it?"

Tony stopped as she asked with an expression he had not seen on her face before, half-serious, but with one of her unique eyebrows raised a little. "No, that is not what I... uh...." He stopped, then laughed, and said, "Well, a lot of B-movies..." he trailed off, taking in her expression again, this time noticing her mouth quivering, as if trying to suppress a smile. Finally, it dawned on him. "Did you just make a joke?" he asked, laughing.

"I tried," she admitted, smiling freely now.

"You succeeded. Damn good first Alphan effort, I'd say. Maya made a joke. Ha, wait until I tell Alan. And Pat, and--"

"Tony!" she said in mock distress, laughing, grabbing his forearm and gently but insistently tugging it, getting him to move away from the Nursery at last. She doubted she could have distracted him that much, and maybe he knew she was right and just wanted a graceful way out of his rant. She did not know, and did not care. She didn't care that he didn't tell her what a B-movie was supposed to mean, either.

Around the corner, Susan Crawford listened to Tony Verdeschi and Maya walk away from where Susan was, out of their sight.

Sue had been bringing her bright baby boy, George, to the Nursery. She was late to her shift because George had been fussy about feeding earlier but suddenly started crying out from hunger. She had called in about the delay, and with everything now settled, was getting George to the Nursery. Just before turning the last corner before the hallway the Nursery was on, she had heard the Nursery door closing, and the Security Officer's voice, just starting to say, "I am so sorry." She promptly stopped where she was, out of his sight, for Sue knew perfectly well that he was frequently in the company of the alien female. When it became obvious he was indeed with the Psychon metamorph, Sue was going to retreat, but was abruptly fascinated as she listened to Maya argue that Tony should not be angry about the parents not wanting Maya around their children.

"You just cannot tell or force a mother to trust someone with her child, her baby," Maya said at one point, though Tony continued protesting everyone's attitudes, including Maya's.

George did not stir at the argument, and Sue listened to it, surprised.

Sue was out of sight of the Psychon's alien face, and was scarcely that familiar with Maya's equally-unique voice, either; and she found herself hearing words any sensible and decent woman, mother or not, would know, to some degree, about trust and the bond between mother and baby -- what any good woman could have uttered to a man being purposefully or unintentionally dense.

Susan was simply listening to another woman, and in continuing to listen, discovered Maya also had a sense of humour and used it to finally knock Tony off track and get him to drop it. Maybe some part of him knew he was on the wrong side of the argument; but regardless, Maya had deftly handled the situation, and gotten Tony to finally leave the area with her.

Sue, rather stunned by what she had heard, remained where she was even as their voices now faded in the distance. Finally, she turned the corner, shifting George in her arms so she could retrieve her commlock and enter the Nursery anteroom.

"Good morning, Sue," Carla said, just emerging into the anteroom from one of the inner rooms in the Nursery areas.

"Was Maya just in here with Mr. Verdeschi?"

"Yes, a couple minutes ago; but I told them about the restriction and they soon left," Carla said in a somewhat clipped-sounding tone, like Carla wanted to give more meaningful details, but did not wish to antagonize Sue, who had not cared to listen to anyone's arguments for Maya.

"Well, what happened?" Sue asked, and when Carla said nothing for a second, Sue gave her a more insistent look.

"He brought her here, without her knowing what 'Nursery' meant. As soon as I mentioned the restriction, Maya looked like she wanted to leave, Tony got angry and louder, but Maya quieted him down, saying 'Some of the babies are probably sleeping,' then virtually ordered him out of the room."

It only added to what Sue had overheard from Maya herself. She took George, who was still sleeping, into the left-side room, where the cribs were. As she did so, and set him gently in a crib, she had a sick feeling in her stomach and heart.

F-389 DAB 0830-2400: Mass Drive

It was out of a small command conference that they realized they had overlooked a testing opportunity. Two Hauler 'pods' were now finished, with the third only days from completion. The second was about to get First Flight testing. They realized they could try pulling down some pieces of alien ship debris that were in the Moon's orbit. They had been carrying around debris of three of the four spaceships of Jarak's people in low orbit, the three destroyed Sidon ships in highly elliptical orbits, and debris from ships of the Graktor and their enemy in orbits ranging from low to high.

Despite all the course changes, only a few pieces had escaped lunar orbit and been shed, and only one had crashed into the Moon. During the Moon's course changes, most objects had been pulled along, though all had changed orbits each time, often to slightly higher ones.

They could be menaces to Eagle flight, but all Eagle computers were programmed with knowledge about them. Maya had already absorbed a grid full of orbital references about them, and seemed ready to avoid them. Yet a few pieces were in persistently particularly bad orbits. It was time to clear a few of them.

The computer programs to Haul while in Alpha's communications range had long been completed, so Maya was not needed for these tests. In fact, it was an excellent chance to test those programs.

Before noon, both rigs were in flight, with Alan and other pilots brought into the Flight 3 scenario, including two other Eagles for support. Each Hauler got into orbit in front of a piece of debris, while personnel on that Eagle and its spotter emerged to weld the ends of three chains onto each piece and then onto the back of each Hauler/Eagle combination. The fragments here were only a couple times larger than an Eagle, smaller than the simulations run for Kaskalon, but still a good test of the idea.

Various teams rotated among the activities, to give everyone some live work/practice. There were minor problems, and all were glad new procedures could be worked out here; but eventually, the first hauls were ready.

Sandra read off the progress of the Computer-run burn. It continued through the rest of the first and all of the second shift, different people taking over the monitoring on the ground, even the Commander only checking in a couple of times, but reappearing for the remaining burns.

In the end, four of the most dangerous pieces of destroyed spaceships had been pulled out of orbit and crashed onto the Moon.

That proved from end to end that the Hauler pods could fulfill their named purpose on at least some objects. The investment in time and resources, though not paid off yet, was starting to prove wise nonetheless. Even if Kaskalon came up dry, they could use these Haulers for other purposes, such as more clearing of lunar orbits if necessary, dragging down a small comet for its ice, or unforeseen duties.

It was a fine way to go into the weekend. The Kaskalon mission would start in the middle of next week. Meanwhile, alternate scenario planning continued. Operation Exodus was reviewed. Operation Lifeboat Eagles. Alpha would be ready, as best as it could be while working off sketchy interpretations of florid yet vague poetry and legends. Still, this was far more pre-planning than had ever been possible.

The tests had ended at 23:30, and to try unwinding a little, John came up to Main Observation, alone, to look out the windows and think.

The Alkinarda Complex was in what was now a days-long process of setting. The 'Rapids' had set, along with some of the blue stars, though some were still in view. What was still in view was actually the 'front' of the Complex as it all moved through space.

Each time he looked at the complex mess of forces, nebula, and stars -- so many numerous light-years across -- he was more and more in awe of the powers reputedly responsible for creating it. During a battle, no less. Forget Star Giants. This evidently was a clash of titans. An abandoned, perhaps fascinating, world remained as well. Still, despite the planning, time felt short. It always did.

"Victor, you would have loved this. A beautiful yet dangerous phenomenon in space. Remains of another ancient power. Another clue about this universe and the life in it." John missed his old teacher and friend. Missed his thoughts on recent events -- all of them. It had been a quiet couple of months after Psychon, relatively speaking, but a lot had still happened, with a lot more to come.

Somehow, things seemed somewhat different now than a few months ago. Victor and three other solid friends and colleagues gone, followed by more deaths, an alien addition, plus more births. The feeling that the transition from quiet mourning to hope, started before the commemoration, perhaps accelerating a little.

The battle-created monstrosity and difficulties of an ancient world could quash all of that; but they had survived before, via determination, ingenuity, luck, perhaps even more mysterious forces. They would fight to survive and cross a new bridge, or survive in some other way. Alpha had a mass drive to survive and perhaps eventually thrive, and he was responsible for it continuing on both.

He turned to leave Main Observation, with a look over to where Victor's picture hung in what used to be John's office. As the clock reached midnight, he shut off the lights and left.

F-389 DAB 2100-2130: Alpha Son

Elsewhere on Alpha, earlier in the evening, while the mass drive tests were still occurring, Maya was practicing something very different, namely some molecular transformation, this time trying again to transform directly from one animal form to another. It was still proving elusive -- and still felt like it would be for some time.

She had left an extra reversion'trigger that if an unexpected sound startled any of the animals she was trying, she should revert. Indeed, it was triggered, and she promptly reverted, smiling a little that at least that much had worked so well.

Standing up, she found her commpanel was beeping, that someone was outside her door. She dropped her smile to a neutral expression, and in checking the screen, was troubled to find out it was Susan Crawford, her face filling the monitor.

"Can we talk?" Susan asked.

Maya sighed slightly. "Susan," she said in an apologetic tone through the connection. "I am sorry, but Tony took me to the Nursery without my realizing what it was. I was asked to leave, and I did. I will not return, or let anyone take me there again."

"Maya, slow down. Please let me in."

Maya paused. Susan did not sound angry, but it was still often difficult to interpret humans, as much as Maya was improving her skills at doing so. Unconsciously, she shook her head a little.

"Maya, there is no one standing here with me, I promise I have no weapon, and I know you can defend yourself."

"I do not want to fight verbally either. Please, I apologize for not knowing where I was. It will not happen again." Maya did not ask for Susan to accept her apology, but simply offered it.

"I honestly do not want to argue either."

"Then... what?"

"Please, Maya, just let me in," Susan said.

Maya still had no idea what Susan wanted, but she sounded honest about not being a threat to her.

"Okay," she said tensely, "please give me a few moments." Maya broke the connection, and quickly moved to turn down the picture of Mentor, feeling bad about doing it but not wanting to further antagonize Susan with an image of her father.

She returned to the commpanel, and readied herself to transform into a fast bird if needed, then released the lock, remaining by the commpanel.

Maya's mouth fell open when the door slid open and she saw that Susan was not alone: in her arms was baby George. Still heeding the long-standing order, Maya unconsciously took two steps backwards, then looked back to Susan's smiling face and said, "I don't understand."

Susan looked Maya in the eyes. "I finally understand you mean no harm at all."

"I..." Maya simply said, still not sure how to process any of this.

Susan took a few steps towards Maya, and Maya stayed where she was.

"I overheard this morning," Susan explained, "when you were arguing with Mr. Verdeschi in the hallway, you defending my right to keep you away from my baby. I realized I was listening not to an alien, but another woman with perfectly recognizable woman's reaction, and a kind heart. I asked Carla what happened in the anteroom, and found out you practically ordered Verdeschi out of the room."

Sue could see Maya finally relax somewhat, but could also see she was still at a loss, so she took some more steps forward, and offered for Maya to take George in her arms. Maya's eyes widened, and despite alien features, it was so perfectly obvious that Maya was again surprised. "Go ahead," Sue encouraged.

Thankfully, Maya responded this time. Much to Sue's surprise initially, then none after a moment, Maya neither asked for, nor needed, any advice on how to reach for and hold a sleeping baby, and George scarcely stirred.

"I see you've held babies before."

"My older brother and his wife had a two sons and a daughter in the years before they left Psychon. Though a very busy man, he and his family often visited us, every few... at least once a month."

Maya found herself staring at a baby human boy, whom she knew was already some months old. He had dark hair, closed eyes, the now semi-familiar human eyebrows, was quite warm in her arms, and was just now gurgling a little in his sleep. "He is beautiful," Maya said.

"Thank you," Susan said. All at once, even more than before, Sue deeply regretted the deep pain she had surely caused this sensitive and caring woman. Still not sure how to apologize yet, she turned away, totally trusting the alien with her son who had been temporarily twisted by a different -- utterly different -- alien, and very slowly started wandering Maya's quarters, speaking a little at a time, lurching awkwardly into details of a difficult time.

"You see, I knew something strange had happened. George was born, put in an incubator, but then all of a sudden I was holding him in my arms, not knowing why, but not caring. There were half a dozen people with weapons, including the Commander, staring at me in shocked happiness, Dr. Mathias was sobbing, a nurse was laying on a bed, and another on the floor, and there was the smell of burnt circuitry in the air. I was so happy to hold my baby, that I did not care at first at all, not even a little, for some reason I still don't understand. I just felt joy. But I knew something had to have happened."

Maya's room was simply decorated, with a few pictures on the wall, a couple sculptures, and a fair number of plants about. There was some pieces of scientific equipment, including a microscope, and some sort of scanner. Her bookshelves held a variety of books, mostly technical but with a little fiction, art, poetry, and such as well. The closet revealed the dress Maya had left Psychon in.

"I quickly worked up the nerve to start asking. No one wanted to tell me, but that only made me more anxious, more determined really, and I started demanding answers."

There was a framed picture of Maya laughing, something that looked so different yet so natural, surrounded by Annette Fraser, Tony Verdeschi, Joan Conway, John Koenig, and Helena Russell, who were also laughing. All the smiles were genuine, clearly laughing about something funny, obviously from the birthday party Sue had heard about.

"No one wanted to give me any information at first; but I had to know, and drove them until they finally took me aside, gave me a massively-scary warning, and asked if I wanted to hear, which of course I did. Have you heard?"

Maya nodded.

"So they told me, and though horrifying, I think I took it better than even I expected, though I definitely didn't want my son named Jackie anymore: Jack was my husband, Jackie was someone I never really knew, named by others after my late husband. So I instead named him George, after Jack's father. But when you showed up -- came to live here -- there must have been more horror and fear than I realized, because all I saw was another alien, especially after Koenig announced that you had transformational powers. I just wanted you nowhere near my baby or me, as you found out."

Sue had to give Maya credit for simply staying silent, and listening. Psychon Women's Wisdom? No, not just Psychon....

There was another picture, more like a painting, in a familiar style, but of an unfamiliar Psychon woman, a lot like Maya -- and not just because of the uniquely-Psychon features, but from a clear family resemblance. The woman was looking out at the viewer -- Maya usually, of course -- with the steady gaze and loving look of a mother, plain as day, alien eyebrows or not.

"Your mother," Sue simply said, looking at Maya, still holding -- and now gently rocking -- George. Maya nodded.

"What was her name?"

"Taylia. She died early in my adolescence."

Sue then noticed another picture, face down, and reached for it, already guessing at who was pictured and why it was downturned, especially considering the delay Maya had between deciding to let Susan in and actually opening the door. She lifted it into the air.

Maya saw the movement, and not wanting to see what she could only assume would be a look of horror or anger or disgust on Sue's face, turned away, looking at George again.

When there was only silence for a few moments, Maya looked up and saw, much to her surprise, that Susan was simply looking at the picture.

"He looks so different," Susan said. "The same, yet very different."

Maya had not expected either response, the non-verbal and the verbal, and was not sure she understood, and remained silent.

"I did not really listen the first time Commander Koenig introduced you on the base-wide comm. A couple of my friends tried to tell me that you did not know what Mentor had done, and helped us when you found out; but I did not listen to them either, just found a deeper fear I thought I had overcome, and lashed out defensively at you. I never gave you a chance of any sort, even when some of my most trusted friends said I should."

Mentor's expression in the picture was nothing like what they had seen blasted by Mentor on commscreens all over Alpha. He was simply looking out with calm pride, not self-pride, but beaming pride for Maya.

"Your father as you always knew him before the end."

"I had not known he had two faces," Maya finally said, like she still felt a little urge to explain the picture, even though it had been a gift by an Alphan -- another Alphan.

"And this was like you always saw him before. I understand, Maya. This is Annette Fraser's work, isn't it?" Sue asked, even knowing the answer, wanting to get Maya talking more now.

"Yes...." she said, as if wanting to say more but not knowing what.

"She's been giving you a little of your past back," Sue said as she carefully set the picture painting back down, properly standing it up.

At a curious sound, Sue turned to Maya and saw sudden tears glistening in the Psychon's eyes, her head nodding tightly.

"She's been preserving the past for a lot of people," Sue said. "Her and a couple others. Have you seen her work amongst those in Main Observation?"

Maya softly cleared her throat and said, "Yes, I have seen her work there too."

"She does well at capturing the best of a person, and I don't know how she does it."

Maya had to fight the tears even harder. "I do not know how either. She never saw this side of Mentor."

"I heard about her reaction. She must be stronger than I ever gave her credit for. Sorry, that may have come out wrong."

"I know what you meant," Maya said calmly.

Maya's arms must have been tired from growing -- properly growing -- George's weight, for Maya moved to her bed and sat on it.

This time, George stirred and opened his eyes.

"I am sorry," Maya said to Susan, who simply ignored the apology. Maya noticed George looking up at her, so she turned her face down to him and smiled warmly, and starting to tickle his cheek in a very human gesture, saying, "Hello, George. I am Maya."

George made little happy sounds, and reached his arms up, one hand's finger directly for one of her eyebrows. Maya did not pull away, but this time, it was Sue finding herself apologizing.

"It is perfectly okay," Maya said with a mild laugh. Not 'it does not matter,' Sue noticed. George seemed curious but not the least bit concerned about Maya's appearance. "Perceptive little boy," Maya commented.

"He's seen me and other white people, and black people, and so on, but never a Psychon person."

Soon, he moved his arm away, then giggled more as Maya's finger moved to tickle the palm of one of his little hands.

"You found one of his most ticklish spots."

"Ticklish," Maya repeated, as if needing to memorize a word whose meaning was instantly clear from context.

Sue took a step closer, saying, "He likes you."

Maya looked up with a simple smile whose meaning was completely clear, then looked down again.

"You know," Susan said, "the three of us have something in common."

Maya looked up again, this time with a steady gaze of surprise and curiosity.

"Yours are far different than ours were, of course; but we have all been through physical transformations and reversions."

Maya smiled, accepting the tone it was offered in, then looked at George again as he made more sounds.

Finally, Susan said, "Please accept my apology for the hurt I caused you. It was wrong to judge you the way I did. I will try my best to undo the damage I did with some of the other parents. I would hope that we can be friends."

"Oh, of course we can, apology accepted."

"And Maya, I say this with absolutely no criticism, just as a request: don't ever feel the need to hide pictures of your family again. Not for me, not for anyone."

DCS 7418,221;006-131: Pursuit

The young Archon, sitting in his throne room, looked at the asteroid slowly move across the magnification viewscreen, followed by another, with tinier specks all about.

"Psychon?" he asked.

"Fragments of Psychon, with no doubt," was the astrotechnician's immediate answer. "There are few pieces larger than these, but even those not by much: a factor of two."

The magview was replaced with a splitview of Psychon's star system diagram, former on the left, revised on the right. One orbit from the left side was missing on the right side. On the left side, where that former orbit was shown, there was a tiny circle at one point in the orbit, as a symbolic representation of Psychon's sizeable satellite: Renone, as the Psychons themselves called it, or Reenon by Dorcons. On the right, there were two new lines, one originating from a distance equivalent to Psychon's from its star, called Psyoliyask by the Psychons and Psyolask by the Dorcons. There was one more line on the revised chart, tracking clear across the star system, but close to where Psychon and Reenon had been.

"If one leaving the Psyolask system is Reenon," the Archon said, "then what is the other one?"

"Our probe ship, as one of its tasks on its arrival, was programmed to look for Reenon's course, since the precise instant of Psychon's destruction was not known due to various small gravity and hyperspatial tone propagation factors. The probe ship did not detect this extra signature. The first warship to arrive eventually did. It is an unknown. Its size and configuration are completely unknown, but it approached close to Psychon, though exactly when in relation to its destruction, is not clear from the evidence either."

"An interloper.... Psychon was already in decline, and then an interloper traveled through? Any more precise information?"

"No, the chaos of Psychon's destruction and the time since then has blurred most traces of the track, and it appears only as a pattern of variation across a very wide path, like vapor exhaust trail being torn apart by high winds."

"A starship?"

"Probably. Impossible to tell anything about it, however."

"Could it have attacked Psychon, and could Psychons have been on Reenon?"

"Possible."

"Both it and Reenon went hyperspatial?"

"Yes, Archon, some time ago."

"Towards which directions? Reenon first."

"Reenon towards the Atsindae Alcove."

The Archon turned towards his elder Consul, Sutro, and asked, "Would the Atsindae have any chance of doing damage to even a third or half this fleet if we sent that portion after Reenon?"

"If they leave now, estimates are they'd reach Reenon before that point. If there is a delay, no realistic resistance, but that would limit future strategic options."

"Yes, I'd rather decide how to deal with the Atsindae at a later point." He turned back to the astrotechnician. "Tell me about the unknown's direction."

"Towards Star 87488, about halfway to the Aliarda."

"Why there?"

"There is only a gas giant, without even natural satellites. Some legends say this solar system was largely destroyed during the same war of the two powers also reputed to have generated the Aliarda. If the interloper is a stranger to the Psychon/Aliarda area, they may not know the system's status and just be exploring it while on their way to the Aliarda."

"They are likely ultimately headed to the Aliarda Bridge, then."

"Probably, Archon."

The Archon turned to the technician and spoke louder. "Any further critical data?"

"No, Archon."

"Dismissed."

The technician saluted and left.

Archon thought for a moment, then turned to Consul Sutro and started issuing orders. "Split the fast probes. One to intercept Reenon, one directly to Star 87488, one to try intercepting the interloper in the Starbridge System, and three to travel around the Aliarda in case something is sent through the Bridge and we have to scan the usual outlet range. Split the warship fleet in a 2:1 ratio."

"The majority towards Reenon?" the Consul asked.

"No.... Latest intelligence indicates most Psychons were dying and evacuating for years before its destruction. My instincts are we will probably find the Psychon outposts on Reenon long striped of technology and abandoned, and the more interesting possibility is this unknown interloper traveling towards the Aliarda."

The wise old Consul, himself hoping for a Psychon transplant if there was one after this very promising young Archon received one, nodded, agreeing with the logic, and adding, "Maybe the interloper attacked an already unstable, weak Psychon, or maybe the timing was coincidence; but either way, surviving Psychons may have transfered to or taken over the interloper."

"Yes, though they could have easily transferred to Reenon just as well. It is the interloper's course towards the Starbridge System that provokes my greater interest."

"Then the flagship towards the Aliarda as well?" the Consul asked.

"Yes."

"Who should command Fleet 1.2 then?" the Consul asked, using the standard notation for when a fleet was split. Fleet 1.1 would of course be the one that the flagship traveled with. This situation had too many unresolved unknowns for the flagship to travel alone this time. Another situation where acquiring a Meson Converter could simplify things. Fleet 1 was by far the largest of the Dorcon Empire's formidable fleets, and even its two parts were each still larger than any other Dorcon fleet.

"Who is that young female Pre-Consul who I met briefly about a year ago, and who I have heard promising reports about since then? Varda? Is she among this fleet?"

"I am not certain, Archon. I will check."

Moments later, they had confirmation, including that the positive reports had continued.

"Good," the Archon said. "Elevate her to Sub-Consul at once, temporarily split the fleet, set her in leadership of Fleet 1.2, and have both fleets start their respective pursuits, immediately. The full Elevation Ceremony for Varda can wait for now, but convey when it happens, I will take part, if she does well in her leadership."

"Yes, Archon," Consul Sutro confirmed, then left.

Archons had long been very careful not to allow fleet military commanders to amass too much power. A fleet was nominally commanded by a military commander, but the true power lay with a Consul of some level, except when the flagship was present. Fleets being split during battle would usually result in a military sub-commander being in temporary authority of a small portion of the fleet, however; but a fleet being split outside of battle, while not common, did demand Consul involvement, and was often one good occasion to further test the mettle of new Sub-Consuls. It was Varda's turn.

Syric's own sister was already a Consul, in leadership over Fleet 3. As spoiled as Syric had thought she was when they had both been young, she had shown enough leadership qualities for the prior Archon, their collective many-greats-grandfather, to elevate her to Consul as Syric had been. Her spoiled nature had faded considerably once she had been put in greater responsibility and realized the way the Empire really worked. If only she did not keep romantically evaluating men who had seemingly not matured as much as she had lately....

Syric, though relatively young, had already been married for eight years and had not produced a child. In his darker moments, he feared his sister would wed unwisely, to a poor choice of a man who might not make a strong father. Such a union would likely create a weak, spoiled heir, he feared. Syric, by sacred tradition, was powerless to interfere.

Succession was critical, and without an heir of his own, he was obligated to keep a secret succession file listing the next closest candidates, by his evaluation. Right now, with no heir of his own, and a sister whose taste in men was not what Syric considered good father material, this was foggy, and he was listing a distant younger cousin he barely knew but had elevated to sub-consul of Fleet 2, currently engaged against the Weyweq, to test his mettle. That was not going as well as he had hoped -- the war and the sub-consulship. Given the consul was not doing well, maybe it was more the consul's fault, rather than the cousin. So maybe a shake-up there would help, but he doubted it.

His thoughts returned to Fleet 1. The troubling thought was that Reenon could be empty, and the mysterious interloper, whatever it was, might be void of Psychon life as well.

Alone in his throne room, Syric had to admit to himself there was just something odd about this whole situation. The myth cycle surrounding the Aliarda was understood about as well by the Dorcons as anyone else, a little better in some ways. Though filled with idiotic terms like Star Movers, Star Makers, and Rages, it did make him wonder. The galaxy was filled with a fair number of 'ancient worlds' -- known as such mostly to Archons, Consuls, and top military leaders as places best left alone.

The rather distant corner of the galaxy where both Psychons and the Aliarda lay had drawn Dorcon attention quite some time back. Neither Psychon metamorphosis, nor the Aliarda and its attendant legends, were well understood. Both were understood enough to deal with in some ways, but both still held uncracked secrets. Psychons might be a diminished and scattered race now, but the Aliarda, to a young yet careful Archon, still gave Syric pause, as former Archons' logs likewise admitted.

The written thoughts of prior Archons were transferred from Archon to Archon, so that each successor could understand where right decisions had helped the empire, and yes, even where mistakes, however far they were kept from the general citizenry, had hurt the Empire.

The Aliarda, though truly huge, visible from much of the galaxy, was far enough away the Dorcons would have scarcely cared that much. Dorcons could fly fast enough that the Aliarda wasn't that much of a block, though the Dorcons had still been careful to obtain information about the Bridge nonetheless. It was the legends -- common and relatively consistent amongst so many worlds in that part of the galaxy -- that had puzzled many Archons. The myths, and especially the names, were excessive, yet the Aliarda was very unique, and apparently had been created somehow. Even Dorcons thought it might be artificial. If so, it was just as well that the supposed ancient races responsible were gone.

The combination of an unknown interloper and the Aliarda provoked his curiousity, and demanded exploration. Dorcons didn't expand an empire being over-cautious, but caution was still in order. The probes would arrive before the fleet could. Neither might be in time, however.

The Archon grew more impatient to discover more about this interloper, nature unknown, which had traveled the Psyolask system at roughly the time of Psychon's destruction, and was now heading towards the Aliarda. What was it? What involvement did it have? Did surviving Psychons get on board? Would they be easy or difficult to dislodge and capture?

F-389 DAB 2130-2200: Waving Hands

After Sue had gathered up George and left Maya's quarters, she approached the lift. It opened and Alan Carter stepped out.

"Hey, Sue, George."

"Mr. Carter."

"Alan, please."

It was probably random, but George took that moment to wave both his arms about excitedly. Alan laughed and reached for one of his hands. George gave a single giggle.

The elevator closed and moved on, leaving them both in the hallway.

"I suppose you wanted that," Alan said.

"That's okay, I'll just call it again."

"Here, let me." Alan did that, then turned back and made a couple silly sounds at George, who responded happily to the attention. "He's certainly growing."

For awhile, she had been rather sensitive to comments like that, as a normally happy point of discussion had been turned upside down by what had happened to "Jackie" -- but Sue had forcibly suppressed her reaction to that, not wanting to deny herself -- or others at least -- what was meant to be a happy, and very common, point of discussion about one's child. "Yes, he is," she said with a light tone and smile she no longer had to force. Discussions with Dr. Mathias had proven helpful, that in learning to accept the statement with a happy face, or brush aside any hurried apologies as unnecessary, she would eventually feel internally what she was expressing outwardly. It had worked somewhat better than expected, albeit haltingly.

Alan broke out the hand motion that for a century had come to mean an buzzing or jetting airplane, but which on Alpha symbolized a rocketing Eagle. George loved it.

Sue gave the man a long look as he interacted well with her child, and quickly hid it when the elevator arrived and broke the moment.

"Here you go: the lift's back."

"Thank you."

"Bye, George. G'day, Sue."

"G'day," she said with a wide smile. He had already started looking away, then started looking back then -- but just a moment too late as the doors closed.

F-389 DAB 2100-2130: From Moonlighting to Hatchet Duty

Sanderson's rehab was going well, from what Tony heard. He seemed to have little trouble giving vent to his suspicions about the Psychon. Little of it seemed to have to do with her metamorphic abilities, a surprising fact that with his talking, and calming while spending time among his friends both on his team and off, seemed to be indicating a volatile mix of grief, anger, and suspicion had met bad timing in the form of Maya's presence inside the Nuclear Generating Area. He had even struck up some sort of relationship with the widowed single mother, Susan Crawford, it seemed.

Sanderson had been allowed out of confinement to find his own support group rather than let his emotions fester, and it had done him a world of good, Drs. Russell and Mathias had agreed.

The breach of trust over Sanderson's use of his Security-privilege commlock to enter NGA without cause, was traced back to his then-friendship with Dr. Joan Conway. It was still inexcusable, especially considering she had not granted him any sort of permission to do that -- something she had no right to anyway. That alone could have netted him a severe reprimand, but having snapped and assaulted Maya was enough that Security Officer Verdeschi had drummed him out of Security Section, an action granted by the Commander and something the other officers agreed with. Assaulting an unarmed party with no provocation would have been a suspension case and borderline expulsion alone, but it would have been difficult for anyone to trust Sanderson for security given two violations of trust in one incident.

Rumors had reached Tony about some sort of "moonlighting" by Sanderson as if a guard over the same residential section and floor as Crawford and some of the other families. Word had reached him of discomfort, and Tony had done some preliminary checks and found some supporting evidence in the commlock logs, but given the possibility of some sort of relationship, and the sudden cessation in the logs, Tony wasn't sure any action was needed, and some of the complaints could be leftover consequences of Sanderson's prior actions more than anything currently. Brief conversations with a couple others from that floor had netted little concrete information. There wasn't much he could do, though he decided to keep his ear to the ground on this.

Tony turned to something more recent. The incident with Maya in the Nursery had him thinking maybe Crawford was behind the restriction, or at least a factor in it. He could see that. Transformation. Attacks on Alpha. Jarak, Rena, Mentor, Maya.

Something about Maya's words that he could not interfere in a mother's decision to keep someone away from her baby was difficult to argue, especially in the case of the Crawfords. Though his temptation was to immediately start conducting batteries of interviews to get to the heart of the matter, that would be tearing Maya's argument to shreds and probably earn her more enmity from the very people suspicious of her in the first place. It would help no one, Maya least of all, and leave Tony not only an unsolved headache, but perhaps turn it into a permanent migraine.

With Sanderson not frequenting that area the whole week, and his team being planned for the Kaskalon mission and then a brief break and finally back to lunar exploration, something about getting Sanderson off base appealed to Tony.

It was said time could heal all wounds. Greg was not sure about that, but some of the frequent pangs of pain over the loss of Jane were starting to ebb a little.

With distance, he was looking at the incident in NGA-2 a little more dispassionately. He had long since ceased thinking about Maya's strange transformation. It had been too bizarre, him thinking he had gone crazy only to be relieved to read the electronic memo he had previously ignored and find out it was a real ability and not his insanity. He preferred not to think about it at all anymore.

He shouldn't have hit Maya like that. He had snapped. It still rankled him somewhat that he had gotten tossed from Security. He knew why, and admitted it to Mathias, but still, it had been one mistake. What he could not respect at all was how much privilege the strange alien was being granted. He had never had much respect for Koenig, compared to Gorski, and it was lessening over time, in part due to this. He said nothing of this to Mathias.

He was cognizant that even in his remaining roles, he received suspicion over the Maya incident. He had recently been assigned to Flight 2 to the upcoming planet, as one of the Eagle teams, but on a mission comprised of a few Exploration teams, including his own. Yet he felt he should have been that Flight's leader. Instead, Patrick Osgood, Tony Verdeschi's best pal, was leader of that expedition. It was ridiculous. Patrick was a leader of miners, not of a Survey team. Was the NGA incident a factor in this decision?

So he finally put it all together and decided he should apologize to Maya. It would be a good thing to do. Perhaps she'd even tell Verdeschi -- those two seemed to meet even after the guard around her had been dropped -- and that might help Greg too. The officers might be getting soft, but it was still both the right thing and the strategic thing to do.

Now if only he could figure out why Susan had suddenly dropped one of their get-togethers and had ceased to respond to his messages, for several days now....

He headed for a place he had avoided, and soon found himself in front of a door labeled as Maya's quarters. He didn't expect her to open it up, but wanted to do this as close to 'in person' as possible. He picked up his commlock and pressed the numbers for a 'knock,' suddenly not even sure she'd be in or awake, since she kept alien hours.

She did and was, however, and as expected, looked a bit surprised and concerned, expressions not hard to read even on her strange face; but she still managed a fairly calm, "Yes?"

"Maya, I realize I'm probably the last person here you want to see, but I want to apologize for what I did. I wasn't listening to Joan, and don't blame her for cutting off our friendship over my attacking you. Mr. Verdeschi was there, but I didn't see anything, didn't hear his stand-down order or Joan's words, and just saw an alien in the 'wrong' place. I wasn't reading my electronic memos, wasn't thinking clearly."

Maya felt safe in her room, and listened to Sanderson, and was surprised to find herself feeling it was genuine, but debating whether to open the door. Tony would have said no, but having a door between her and Greg when he was trying to apologize did not make much sense.

"Please, wait a few moments," she said as she went to the door, deciding to try something. She turned the commlock away from her face, and leaned against the door, her hands and her forehead especially pressed right to the door, and pushed her metasense as best as she currently could. Not being able to actually see, in the visual sense, impeded one component of her extended metasense, and she was not sure this would work. To her surprise, however, she could sift out some impressions, and picked up a faint impression of a semi-metallic object shaped as a vertical item -- a commlock -- but no other semi-metallic object large enough to be a weapon.

It had only taken only a few seconds, then she stood back and brought the commlock back towards her face, "If you don't mind, I would like to open the door."

"Uh... sure."

She did so, and they looked at each other for a moment, but she found no threat there.

"You can come in if you wish."

He hesitated, then accepted, taking one step inside, and quickly resumed. "I threw Jane's death right back at Joan, trying to snap her out of her standing up for you. I was wrong for doing that too, and for using Jane's memory that way. That was disrespectful to you, Joan, and to Jane's memory. I don't know if you and I can ever really be friends, and hopefully I'll be back on lunar survey missions soon, but I did wish to at least bury the hatchet."

Maya wondered why he thought they couldn't be friends, but she held her words this time. He clearly found his attacking her a stain in his memory, and wanted to clear it, but wasn't seeking anything more from Maya than to be professional. Maya had no idea what a hatchet was or what purpose burying it would serve, but held her question too, deciding it probably implied some sort of peace gesture. Knowing the Terrans were as fond of their own metaphors as Psychons of theirs, she assumed this was a metaphor as well.

"So, that is my apology. I'll understand if you don't--"

"I accept your apology. Think nothing more of it."

"Thank you," he said, then turned and let himself out the door.

Maya relaxed slightly, but found little tension. She had been fairly sure of his intent, and had been ready to transform if needed, knowing she could defend herself, accept blame for letting him in, but trust that Tony and the Commander would still believe that she was otherwise innocent. Fortunately her judgment had been sound. Maybe her own certainty was a sign that she was starting to better interpret Alphans. There were still plenty of times she could not, but here, she had.

She was once again surprised for the Alphan capacity to transform, to accept her or at least slowly reject hostility towards her. Maybe she and Sanderson could never be friends, but at least she didn't feel like they were adversaries anymore. She still had plenty of those who did not like her or only just tolerated her, but the only one to physically attack her had apologized.

A-390 DAB 2130-2140: Clay

It had become an Alphan tradition of sorts. Early in a relationship, first one party would arrange to have a photo taken, to give to the other person. The other might reciprocate sooner or later. If one of the people was a photographer, he or she might take the picture oneself. If one of the people was an artist, it was still usually a photo the first time around, then maybe a sketch or small painting the second time around. It was what Annette had done -- a small self-portrait by her own hand.

Helena was no sketch artist or painter. She was, however, a sculptor. It was a hobby she had scarcely expressed to anyone in ages, though she had quietly kept in practice now and then, even after Breakaway.

Maybe it was this relatively quiet month. Maybe it was that even before Psychon, John had started opening up more to her; that things he would have told his long-time friend Victor he was clearly starting to tell her instead. Maybe it was that though they were a couple, that they had stalled somewhere along the line, as if he -- and perhaps she -- was unsure if she had had enough time since losing Lee for the last time.

Yet she had been mourning Lee for years already, and though it had been a shock to find one who had once been Lee, their encounter in space had been closer to a closing one to her, than any re-opening of the relationship or mostly-healed wound. She had been in near shock during much of that encounter, but now, it felt more like she had gotten to say goodbye to one's lost love's ghost.

She and John had started a relationship, and it had grown slowly, but then slowed even further. She had sensed some impatience in him, perhaps sensing she was ready to progress further but he was perhaps thinking it was his own feelings.

Maybe that was a drawback with maturity: while having somewhat better understanding or empathy that one could perhaps overthink things too. The tenderness was there, but little sign of passion. She was not a very young woman anymore, but maybe that was the point; she hadn't felt those feelings in awhile, she wasn't getting younger. Maybe it was the over-used yet fairly realistic term 'biological clock' too. She had never had a child. Having one at this point on Alpha was out of the question, yet she could not deny there was still a drive there.

She could have just talked to John and told him; but in looking at the picture of himself that he had given her months ago, she thought she might have a better idea, using clay....

S-391 DAB 2100-2200: Belated Welcome

For several days, Maya had struggled over a small detail in Tony's invitation for a belated "welcome" dinner. He had said: "A belated real welcome. Like it was the first day...."

He seemed to genuinely want to start over in some ways, and it had struck her that maybe she should take it a little more literally in one more way: dressing the same way she had arrived on Alpha.

She had to keep reminding herself that he had not framed this as any sort of romantic occasion, chiding herself at letting her fast-appearing hopes make her thoughts get rather silly or premature.

Yet the idea of the dress wasn't really about that. She had not worn it since her father's funeral. She eventually wanted to make her one remaining Psychon possession something for a happy occasion too. On that fateful day on what seemed so close yet so long ago, she had donned it to greet the new aliens in her favorite, best clothes, not realizing how badly it would go for everyone. She had not had the slightest clue of the course that long day would take, or that this dress and associated jewelry, her most treasured possessions, would be exactly all she left with besides her life. Different parts of the ensemble had been worked on with pride by so many members of her now passed-on family, for her mother originally, and had been entrusted to Maya by her father a few years ago. Her reticence to wear it for anything except a funeral, for which it had never been intended, now gnawed at her.

Finally, during her weekly Contemplation period, last night, she just decided to wear it, to make it be something for a happy occasion again, and to symbolize the starting over. This time, instead of nearly shooting her on sight, he'd be welcoming her for dinner. This was immense progress.

Why did Tony feel he had to remind himself this was a welcome dinner, not a date?

It was not difficult to remind himself of how ridiculous the latter thought was. Difficult enough trying to understand a human woman; why would he want to deal with an alien woman? He'd only just gotten over being suspicious about her. What he had told Lena was true, and he set the thoughts aside.

However, he had misjudged the charming woman from Psychon nonetheless. His instincts were usually good, but he shaded more towards over-cautious. Any first instincts about someone being a good person had been dead on all his life, on virtually every occasion; and most of his first instincts about someone being trouble had been correct, but sometimes he was uncertain and/or over-suspicious about someone, and on such occasions, the end results had gone both ways.

He was glad it had not gone bad with Maya. Then again, he was always glad when it had not, since he really didn't want people to be bad. Still, he had, even for suspicions, lacked some decorum early on. I nearly shot her on sight the first time. On stun, of course, but still.... He had held his suspicions with her far longer than other 'on the fence' cases, when he could have jumped off earlier. Was it because she was an alien? That had to be part of it. They'd taken a beating from aliens, repeatedly, and from her own father no less, as well. Maybe Alan had been right about that.

Still, he had held his suspicions for so long, in such plain view, it must have hurt her, made her feel even more consciously alien than she already would otherwise, he thought again.

He had apologized for his initial rudeness, and she had accepted it. Now, he wanted to make up for all the rest, and simply show she was welcome, not just tolerated.

So he prepared what she had enjoyed so much in a cafeteria: lasagna. Only it was his own recipe. Well, Mama's recipe somewhat modified, to make some Alphan replacements for ingredients not available or not available in the same form.

The lasagna could not be properly cooked in a microwave. Far from it, he thought. He had reserved an oven in the kitchen for a batch, along with baking some hearty rolls. He diced the tomatoes for the lasagna very fine. For some reason, Maya hated raw or cherry tomatoes but seemed to like finely-diced and well-cooked tomatoes, or tomato paste. Maybe it was an alien thing. Then again, others seemed to like some forms of food but not variations -- in form or in preparation -- of the same food.

He briefly toyed with trying to make her bread'salad, something she had apparently done on Psychon with essentially the same ingredients, but whenever she did, she ate it fast, like it had to be fresh. Maybe Terran bread got soggier faster than Psychon bread. Instead, he'd put out a cruet set of oil, vinegar, and salt, some of which she tended to have in salads already, and just make sure the bread was handy.

He considered tiramisu for dessert, but he wasn't sure whether it would fall under 'too rich' for her taste. Some of the usual ingredients weren't available on Alpha, either. So he instead made an even more modified version lighter on some ingredients. It did not look much like tiramisu anymore, and he wasn't sure of its taste, but decided to go with it anyway.

Of course, serving lasagna as il secondo also made it il primo as well. He shrugged. It would still be a three-course meal at least: antipasto comprised of bread and salad, il primo/secondo of lasagna, and il dolce of a tiramisu-like semi-sweet. He had spent much of his life in Britain too, so he had become rather flexible in meal structure, anyway.

The funny thing was Maya's schedule today put her supper later in the evening, much like an Italian meal.

He then realized he hadn't considered what to wear. He usually did, but this wasn't a date, so he didn't need to dress to impress. He didn't want to be too blasé about it either. Still, he doubted human clothing conventions made much impression on her, and she seemed content going to most events in a uniform herself. He assumed Annette, or maybe Helena, had changed her opinion regarding the birthday party, but she had perhaps reverted since then. Reverted.... That word seemed to jump to mind more often since Maya's arrival, even when not about her metamorphic ability. Fortunately, the other word had not, his silly and perhaps insulting instant internal nickname for her: Catbird.

When he remembered his off-hand comment of partially resetting to the first day -- he forgot the exact words but recalled the general intent -- it suddenly became simple. Uniform with the same sort of jacket. A bit of symbolism. Suddenly he wondered if she'd show up in her own native dress. Probably not. He pushed aside the vague sense of disappointment at the thought, remembering how nice she looked in it, but not having to remind himself this was not a date. No, it would be better if she didn't wear it. She didn't like being stared at anyway, still not knowing how to sort out human stares, or if a little, not much yet -- and he really didn't want to be staring at her.

Preparations nearly complete, he waited for her to arrive. As usual, when the commlock 'rang,' she was a few minutes early. In addition to having computer-like handling of data in her mind, she seemed to have a strong sense of time.

The door opened. Catbird. She was in her Psychon dress. He had last seen it at the funeral, sans feathers; but it now had its feathers back on. Even her hair seemed to be the same as he remembered, with a fairly simple bun held by some of her own hair being in a couple small braided twists, and of course the spiky hairpins.

He smiled, and said, "Hello, my name is Tony."

She laughed lightly, and said, "Hello, my name is Maya."

"Welcome to Alpha, and to my humble abode."

"Thank you," she said as she swept in, all smiles and feathers. "Is that lasagna that I smell cooking?"

"Yes, and the cooking is done already, in an oven. Just brought it here a couple minutes ago."

"In an oven? You can do that?"

"Have to do that with lasagna, to do it right. Time can be reserved by anyone. Can't always get it, unless you sign up early, and it is out of the way for most; but sometimes, it is worth it."

"Ah."

"Please, sit down," he said, holding out a chair, being a gentleman even if this was not a date. She seemed to understand the gesture, and was soon seated.

She waited patiently as he got the last few items. Then they were soon eating. She didn't bother trying to make her bread salad, apparently feeling like eating how he had prepared the meal. It had been minimal effort to put out the ingredients, and instead of being miffed, he instead found himself respecting her decision to treat this as a different occasion. She did use the cruet set, light on the oil, heavy on the vinegar, and moderate salt.

There was some further small talk, expanding away from food, and Tony fed in some more topics, including Eagle flight and weapons training, until the conversation eventually drifted into just how welcome she had felt from some on Alpha. Most Alphans treated her with professional courtesy but little else, but some had become her friends, while she had had conflict with others. He knew those who came into further contact with her had usually been won over to some degree or another, but some had created headaches for her. Sanderson, Haines early on, Hayden, Strong he suspected too, Crawford he was beginning to suspect, Stewart, and others. Not to mention himself in part for awhile.

She avoided discussing the negatives, or downplaying them in her usual way, and he did not press.

Antipasto was eventually over with -- both seemed to be eating slow, savoring the food and conversation -- he brought out the main dish, along with one of his other specialities. She took her first bite of his lasagna, and her face lit up. "Oh, this is even better than cafeteria'lasagna."

"Thank you."

Along with the lasagna, he had put out a glass of beer, and once and awhile, she sipped at it, saying nothing and with no real expression. He decided not to ask, at least not yet.

"Tony, what does 'hammer instead of lightning bolts' mean?" she asked after another bite of lasagna and sip of beer.

"Hmm? What?"

"You, Helena, Sandra, and I were talking about days of the week. My second day here, I think. There were many unfamiliar words like: Romans, Germanic, Nordic, Jupiter, and Thor. You said, 'Thor was probably Jupiter, hammer instead of lightning bolts.'"

Tony laughed. "I can see why that would have been baffling."

"Mm."

"Let's see. Hermes, Loki, Mercury, Hera, Neptune, Mount Olympus, Asgard." Maya tilted her head, with an off-kilter smile too, which he found very charming.

So he listed a few more names, until she finally said, with light-hearted exasperation, "Tony...."

He laughed again, then said, "Mythology."

"Really?"

She knew the word. Historical religion, not as interesting as current beliefs; but she asked more questions anyway, and heard a little bit about beliefs about human'peoples called Greeks, Romans, and Norse, and interchange of cultural ideas.

Partway through, her thoughts drifted. Cultures in space, some sharing ideas, some stealing. Some staying isolated. She did not know the patterns, but knew it happened. Psychon and Terrans were now sharing ideas, each learning from the other, little by little, more and more; and for the briefest moment, Maya wondered what what would evolve from it -- what history might perceive. She was but one person enmeshed with 296 others who were millennia earlier in their technological development, yet there was sharing, and some of it was personal, friendly. That Psychon and Alphan culture were in many ways similar helped, though they still could have ignored and isolated her. That was happening to a degree with some, but a few were taking the effort, and some not even treating it as effort....

"Maya?"

"I so much appreciate that you have been kind to me," she said with sudden, open earnestness.

"Well, I'm not sure I've always been that kind. I almost ended up stunning you when we first met."

"You apologized already. You are welcoming me now; that is what matters."

Tony did not know what to say to that, other than a nod. He changed the topic somewhat. "Speaking of welcome... well, lack thereof.... Has Sanderson given you any more trouble of any sort?"

Maya paused, looking at him, and he wondered if she would say anything either way, given her recent protectiveness of parents' rights to keep her away from their children.

"No. He sometimes gave my strange looks in the hallway that I could not interpret well. Not hostile, but not friendly either, I think."

"So he's still doing that?"

She shook his head and stated, "Negative."

She did not elaborate, and he took a swig of beer, only for her to add something.

"He came to talk and apologize."

He practically choked and nearly spit out his beer. Poor timing on her part, though he would have almost laughed if he hadn't been so surprised by the answer. "He came to your quarters?"

Maya nodded.

"And you let him in?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"He sounded different. His tone."

"But he could have been...."

"I tried something different too, re-metasensing him through the wall. It was difficult, but the only major metallic pattern I could sense in close proximity to him was shaped like a commlock."

"Oh, interesting trick... er, technique. I wouldn't go advertising it too much, though. Keep it in your pocket, as it were."

She gave him that funny look she got when the jargon got too thick, then understanding seemed to sweep over her face. "Oh, if people don't know about that specific detail, it is not on their mind if there is ill intent."

"Exactly. Besides, people might get offended if they knew just how specifically you can sense things."

"What do you mea...? Oh, no, Tony, it is not used that way. The commlock is a separate object, and its shape can be sensed separately more easily than any part of the person at a conscious level -- but only relatively. It is extremely difficult to separate out even that artificial object as a conscious impression, and will never get easier. Even that much, someone would be able to see me concentrating intensely."

"Oh, so you neither want to, nor really can, get nosy. Sorry, tacky thing to ask about even."

"No, I can understand. As I stated early on, there are limitations, and there are rules too."

"Forgetting what I implied before, having too many rules with such a talent sounds rather boring."

"No, we can still have fun too."

For a moment, he thought her tone sounded a little sassy. Maya had a rather funny little smile on her face, and he decided this was probably not somewhere to go either, for who knew what she was thinking. Maybe just things about flying like birds, maybe other things too.

He turned his mind away from that. Not a date, and certainly nothing more.

Having just thought about Alphan parents reacting to her, he recalled his earlier thoughts. It wasn't necessarily every parent, but perhaps one in each family. Plus, he had his suspicion about how it might have started, and maybe it was his fault.

"Tony?"

"I was just thinking to the other morning, at the Nursery. Actually, more like weeks before. Among all the parents, I introduced you to Susan Crawford and her son George first. He was once named Jackie, and I don't know if you--"

"I was told about Susan, Jackie, Jarak, and Rena. Horrible--"

"I wasn't even thinking about your transformational ability or that she and her newborn had been put through forced transformations of a sort, and reversions. Given my own... earlier attitudes, it should have occurred to me that Susan might have even stronger associations. It took me weeks to realize she was probably the worst introduction to start with. You don't have to answer, but I'm imagining the trouble may have started from her and if she poisoned the well among other parents...."

"Much or most of it is partially my fault. I stared at a baby and at a pregnant woman too long, when I should have known better given my own difficulties interpreting human stares."

For some reason, he could understand and accept her explanation. Also, Maya had sidestepped any acknowledgement of who -- or whether she had any prior conversations with parents. He knew better than to ask. "Well, I just wanted to apologize," he said.

"There is no need to apologize."

Again, she did not get specific, avoiding, even in her deferment, anything that confirmed it was that encounter with Susan and George. He decided not to press, realizing he was pressing for information when Maya had been right, from the start, that blasting away at the resistance would only make it stronger.

Tony brought his beer up to his mouth.

"Susan stopped by my quarters today."

He sputtered again.

"What? Was she not happy about me bringing you there?"

Maya shook her head, and he assumed she was shaking her head to indicate, 'No, she was not happy about it.' When she said nothing further, he took the missed drink, still thirsty, and hoping she would decide to explain.

"She brought George with her."

This time, Tony did spit out his mouthful of beer. "You're doing that on purpose," he accused her with a smile. "And don't you dare apologize," he quickly added, pointing a finger. "You really do have a sense of humour. Good timing; but you're serious about the event, aren't you?"

She nodded, then said, "I was stunned. She let me -- asked me to -- hold him, and he was so beautiful."

Tony paused, looking at how pretty Maya was smiling so happily, then as the moment faded, asked, "That's wonderful, but why?"

"She heard us arguing in the corridor outside the Nursery."

"Huh. Well... you were right. Women's Wisdom and a little good luck wins you a friend."

He thought maybe it came out like one of his quips, but she seemed to take it at face value.

"She apologized, told me she would try talking to the other parents, was understanding about my family pictures, and did say she wanted to be friends."

"I am happy to hear it, and that you argued me out of reporting this."

"I am glad you did not, regardless of what followed."

"Yeah, I'd probably have made things worse; or more likely John would have had more sense and shut me down. Maybe he would have had more Men's Wisdom than I."

She said nothing, but sipped a little from her beer, as she had been doing occasionally, with no great relish.

"So how do you like it?"

Deer in headlights again... but abruptly, that familiar look faded, to be replaced by a smile as she responded, "Is there any method to answer that query and still be your friend?"

Tony made an exaggerated groan. "You too, Maya? I think I just got my answer, then. Pretty creative response, though; maybe even better than Alan's asking me before the last batch whether it was dish soap or Eagle fuel."

Maya laughed, openly. She really is quite beautiful, he thought. The fact that she was, completely on her own he assumed, also making light of his beer was a curiosity. He never minded. He knew he was no expert micro-brewer but mysteriously, he seemed to be the only one working on beer, rather than weak 'shine or pseudowine or such. People seemed to be willing to try his brews, to a degree, either to be social or in hope he would stumble on a good recipe. Alpha had had records on virtually everything, yet not a thing on making beer. Either it had not been recorded here, or it had been lost during that first space warp shortly after Breakaway, or from some other computer fault.

"Speaking of soap, what is Soap Sud City?" Maya asked.

"Soap sud... oh, of course. Uh, just give me a minute." They had both long since finished their main course, so Tony stood up to retrieve il dolce, his pseudo-tiramisu.

"Verdeschi-style Alphan tiramisu."

"Tiramisu," she repeated as she occasionally did when hearing a new word, not necessarily always a question, but as if to hear the word or better memorize it or assure her pronunciation was correct, aside from her distinct accent.

"From Italy."

"Ah, your home'nation'state."

"Yes. Did I mention that?"

"It is in the generalized Roster."

"Oh." So she'd been browsing people's entries. Of course, there was nothing wrong with it; that was why it was out there and people put some information in it. He suddenly wondered if she had added anything to hers. He had the urge to ask, but neither of them had tried the dessert yet.

"Tiramisu translates roughly as 'pick me up.'"

"Pick me up?"

He explained the expression, then waved his fork in her general direction. Interestingly, she picked up the cue, then her fork, and tried some. Though he was not too impressed with his own results, she had didn't seem to mind it too much, but no exclamations or expressions of gustatory delight followed either.

"My first try at this variation. I'll have to work on it."

"It is good."

She seemed to mean it literally. At least she wasn't finding it too rich, and maybe that was a plus for her. Nonetheless, he'd have to work on it.

"Oh, you asked about 'soap sud city.' I don't recall hearing it put that way, but...." He proceeded to explain, but she latched onto the Space Brain as a lifeform part, and she got sad.

"Do you know much about them?" he asked.

"Very little. They reportedly exist in at least several galaxies, and seem to have some purpose or influence; but no one is sure how."

"What would have resulted in the area of the destroyed one?"

"I don't know. Some speculate they may be shepherds of a sort. Others speculate they may make -- or perhaps only keep -- conditions good for life. Some populated areas of the galaxy don't have one nearby, however. Others say they are but nexuses -- nexi? -- in a larger organization. Yet there is free will in the universe, and few treat them as a god yet some do. It is all rather mysterious with them."

"Any chance they and the Orcayi and Korai are somehow related?"

She looked startled at the association, but shrugged and raised a hand. "Little is truly known of the Orcayi beyond the legends of their mostly dead world. Less is known of the Kor'ayi. I doubt they can be the same as the Space'brain, however."

"Not what I was saying. Just an Association of Ancients, so to speak."

"Association of Ancients? Interesting thought, but the ancient powers scattered here and there across many galaxies are poorly understood and much about them is little more than myth, a sort of semi-fictional or wholly-fictional history, little of which I understand except that certain legends are known to be true. If they interact, no one really knows, I think, despite speculation otherwise -- rumors with high uncertainty. What the Orca'ayi left behind to cross the Alk^inharda is high certainty. I am sorry. I do not mean to sound defensive again. It is just that earlier conversations--"

"You were trying to press home points when we were sometimes not communicating well, or when you felt we were treating your warnings too lightly. I understand, Maya. You don't have to apologize. In fact, you can stop apologizing for little things where you fear my being offended because of you being... Psychon or something. I mean apologies can be important socially, and your early caution to do so even more probably made sense, but you maybe went a little overboard or have been keeping it up too much."

"Oh, okay...."

"I know, not very precise, but--"

"No, I think I understand the social statement."

"Which reminds me.... The same applies for being on missions. None of us are perfect. If you make a mistake, admit it, as you always do; but you don't have to apologize for it, unless you think it is more severe. Make the same mistake again, and you might have to apologize."

"Is this all true even as a team member rather than a team leader?"

"Yes."

"Being professional?"

"Well, in a manner of speaking. Not really a rule, but just a good way of going about it, at least with most leaders, officers, or commanders."

"I understand."

"Remember, though, that you will be technically in a lead role for a few minutes at a time, during Flight 3's Hauler burns, assuming we find suitable station debris, of course."

"Understood."

"Well, what I mean is that we've apparently gotten to the point of having pilots who will obey your orders in simulations, but if you encounter resistance in the field, and you do not feel it is justified resistance, be ready to put someone in their place."

"In their place?"

"Tell them it is an order. Order them. Of course, make sure you're not ignoring a justifiable concern. John or I will probably be listening on most, and Alan on all, so you'll have backup on both counts."

"Okay, and thank you."

"Well, it is just business, and we all need to get this right, and someone making a pointless protest about being ordered by you serves no one."

"Still, thank you."

It was fairly clear Maya did not entirely buy into the quasi-military aspect of things. She could be professional, yet seemed to draw lines somewhat differently. He still had misgivings about John's experiments in making her a leader, not to mention her out in the field away from controlled or limited situations. Even the salvage exploration mission was a relatively safe experiment, compared to a planet known only by mysterious, vague, and perhaps misleading poems and legends.

He still debated just why he had been assigned to Flight 1 with John. He didn't doubt that with two first-time planetary exploration team members, Karedepoulos and Maya, and the possibility of having to split even their small team, that having two leaders was the right thing, but both Commander and First Officer on one Eagle Flight when there were several others?

He set that aside when another thought returned to mind, that he had almost forgotten to bring up with Maya.

"I trust you," he started simply.

Maya looked surprised and puzzled. "About what?" she asked after a pause.

"Well, remember you asked me to trust you that you transforming into people was subject to rules, and did not involve scanning minds?"

"Yes?"

"And you said I didn't have to answer. Well, I'm answering, and saying I'm trusting you."

"Thank you."

"You said if it was the only thing you could ask me to trust you about, that you were asking for that. Well, it certainly doesn't have to be the only thing, and there need not be a limit."

"That is very generous."

"Well, I trust that you mean no harm, and mean to help. It just took me awhile to figure it out in full," he said, reaching out to pat her arm briefly.

"I understand," she said with a smile.

"You've certainly been patient."

"I was not expecting immediate acceptance. That you and some have become my friends, and most others are at least cordial or polite, in such a short period, is good."

In some ways, especially in making her feel welcome, it did not seem to take much to make Maya happy. She was a complicated person in many ways, yet some of her needs were basic and recognizable, and her approach positive, more upbeat and accepting than some people he had known throughout his life.

The meal was over. It had been a slow, comfortable meal. Somewhere, during it, he had made a decision, not even all that consciously, that he was happy with being her friend, sharing meals or occasions like this, maybe some humour if she continued warming to that. It had crossed his mind to just ask her out, but she did not seem ready for such attention, and he again recalled how ridiculous that would be. Plus, though he really liked the pretty Psychon, and some part of him might have considered pursuing further possibilities, if she seemed interested, she did not seem so, he realized with a little disappointment.

Maya found herself surprised yet happy about this meal, feeling very welcome indeed, by a man that had only been half enthusiastic about it before today -- or more precisely, before about a week ago. Since their fractious ending to a nice occasion in Main Observation almost precisely seven Alphan days ago, their relationship had almost immediately ceased to have negative aspects. She didn't understand why.

Tony had been mostly friendly before, but now seemed like a friend, with no qualifications.

She complimented the meal politely yet with enthusiasm, declaring the lasagna the best she had tasted, and her favorite Alphan dish.

They both stood up, Maya standing in front of him, smiling unbidden, Tony looking at her and saying 'good night,' and strangely, the sudden thought flashed through her mind that she would not mind if Tony kissed her briefly. She instantly quashed the thought, not wanting to damage his intent, how wonderful it had been, and the progress made between them.

As she stood up, he couldn't help but notice her dress some more than he already had been, and how she looked. She was smiling now. As he said good night, he, for a fractional moment, thought he got a curious vibe from Maya, but he wasn't sure what, and the vague impression was gone, making him doubt whatever it was. So he ignored it. He simply felt good this meal had gone so well, that he had not blown it up like some prior occasions.

He abruptly thought of perhaps giving her leftovers, and she seemed very happy about it. Huh, really enjoyed the food, I guess.

After that, and brief goodbyes, she left, and suddenly his room seemed more quiet than usual.

M-392 DAB 1440-1820: Redsun Space

It was a quiet group that waited in Command Center. Above Alpha's horizon, the Alkinarda Complex was rising again, a tiny fraction of what satcams showed as having swollen to 144 degrees, a huge sheet of strange astronomical phenomena. Not yet risen over Alpha's horizon was Red Sun, actually an orange-red star. It was ahead of them, standing some light years away from the Veil and its Shepherds, but in the wide-angle satcam view, looking like it could brush against the Veil -- yet also looking like it could be swallowed in a heartbeat as well. The blue Shepherd stars were even closer to the Veil, as if indeed somehow 'shepherding' the Veil and what it concealed -- yet appearing even more ready to cook Alpha if they failed to find the key to the Bridge and the Moon shot past Red Sun. There was no escaping the feeling of enormity, or of finality, especially knowing the Veil and Shepherds only hid something more dangerous, what Maya had described legends which called its core the Dark Heart of the Alkinarda.

Since their approach had caused some visual separation of the Shepherds, Douglas McLeod had gotten some astronomical and astrophysical readings from the Veil that hinted there was some powerful and expansive 'engine' in the heart of the phenomenon. Many still felt it could perhaps be another Black Sun experience, perhaps even be a further clue to help unlock it. Yet the thought that they shouldn't just make such a casual and perhaps lethal assumption had spread somewhat, though not without some divisiveness over what some had astutely observed was Maya's likely 'interference.' John had made a point of getting his metaphor about God and laser nests to 'slip' into the grapevine. Officers could be somewhat removed from it, but it had eventually spread, and lessened some of the controversy.

They were now roughly in the area where the Moon and its strange hyperspatial bubble of normal space would impinge on the boundary of the star's hyperspatial influence, and cause the former to collapse. Alphan calculations, even once the fact of this phenomenon had been discerned, had always been fairly rough, despite some refinements. Maya had helped refine it further, but it was still a 2-hour estimate window in this case.

The Science Board had approved, 8-1, a very interesting experiment devised by Maya and Dr. Conway, of perhaps being able to detect not just the gas giant planets, but terrestrial planets, upon 'entering' a star system. It was a startling little proposal of matching several copies of an existing device onto the Scintillator Pool, which John had virtually forgotten about, and creating an indirect means of detecting certain gravity waves. The project was called the Indirect Gravity Wave Detector, or IGWD. Maya had done enough programming that she would be able to interpret the results and have it converted to an orbital image. Her work had been checked by June and incorporated into Computer, and now Maya sat at a console, not to use the IGWD yet, as the 'radar'-like picture the Moon's entry into the system wouldn't return for hours. It was to give Maya more practice on Command Center systems.

"We have crossed the Space Normal Boundary," she finally got to announce calmly, before returning to practice on other aspects, overseen by Sandra.

"So, we're finally here," Tony commented quietly to John. "A few weeks ago, I would have laid even odds at getting bounced to somewhere else first."

"We may end up wishing for that," John returned, equally quietly.

"Yeah, I know," Tony said.

"Still, to be more prepared for a change, even if most of the information is vague...."

"That was a break."

This time, though, Tony looked at Maya briefly, as if acknowledging she was part of the reason for the break.

There was little to do at this distance from the star. The Moon, though sublight now, would still be slowing further. It was far too soon to launch Eagles, but virtually everything else was ready.

However, Alan suggested launching all three Hauler teams for more practice. Each team consisted of an Eagle carrying one of the new Hauler 'pods' -- all complete now -- and a normal Eagle to serve as "Spotter" in finding and guiding Eagles to debris and carrying astronauts and equipment to hook up bolts to debris and chains between those and the hauler pods. They could continue practicing on pulling down debris accumulated in various lunar orbits from destroyed alien spaceships. With the remainder of today and all of the next day, each crew could make perhaps 3-4 pulls, adding 9-12 more objects crashed on the Moon to the 4 done so a few days before. The high end of the range would mean all of the largest pieces would be out of orbit and no longer a hazard.

This was deemed a good idea by the Commander, and within the hour, was commenced. Maya and Sandra would help coordinating this, but the teams were well-trained by now. A few of the runs tomorrow were to be directed by Maya, remotely, to give her and Eagle crews more practice in her doing the rapid calculations and giving navigation orders. She would be doing this for at least half the hauls at Kaskalon, while the Moon was too far away to allow communication with Main Computer.

However, for these next few hours, other than coordinating the launches and a few other items, activity was fairly routine, until the console Maya was working beeped a new sound.

"Data from the Indirect Gravity Wave Detector," she announced. She began scanning the raw results, and as in other cases, she was outrunning the computer and soon announcing results were consistent with the orbital information she had provided weeks before.

Computer then caught up, and Maya punched it up to the Big Screen. An orbital diagram. The orbits were from Maya's original information, but the planet's current locations, just detected, were shown as pulsing dots -- at exactly the expected locations. There were smiles all around. It was a much more complete picture, days before they'd usually have this much.

It was soon back to routine, but the feel in Command Center was of this being the calm before a potential hurricane, with Kaskalon -- Bridge World in transliteration -- as the eye. It was a poor metaphor visually, yet somehow felt apt to the Commander.

[End of third part]