Author: Laurence E. Dahners
Date: 2012-12-21T18:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Science Fiction; Thriller
Description: “Tau Ceti" is the sixth in a series of near future SciFi/Thrillers whose young heroine Ell Donsaii has a nerve mutation which has made her a genius and an athletic phenomenon. In “Tau Ceti!”, she is continuing to find uses for the quantum entangled wormholes that she has discovered. These wormholes aren’t big enough to send people through, yet they are making huge changes in our world. Ell used one to send a small rocket to the third planet of Tau Ceti where it sends back images of intelligent but primitive beings that can fly! While observing and occasionally trying to help a pair of these al
Publisher: Createspace

Tau Ceti

An Ell Donsaii story # 6

By

Laurence E Dahners

Copyright 2012 Laurence E Dahners

Kindle Edition

Author’s Note

Though this book can “stand alone” it will be much easier to understand if read as part of the series including “Quicker (an Ell Donsaii story),”  “Smarter (an Ell Donsaii story #2),” “Lieutenant (an Ell Donsaii story #3),” “Rocket (an Ell Donsaii story #4)” and “Comet! (an Ell Donsaii story #5).” I have minimized repetition of explanations that would be redundant to the earlier books in order to provide a better reading experience for those of you who are reading the series.

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

Preprologue

Allan Donsaii was an unusually gifted quarterback. He was widely recognized to be startling strong and was a phenomenally accurate passer. During his college career he finished two full seasons without any interceptions and two games with 100 percent completions. Unfortunately, he was never drafted because the pro teams felt he was too small.

Kristen Taylor captained her college soccer team and was extraordinarily quick. She rarely played a game without a “steal” and usually had many.

Allan and Kristen dated more and more seriously throughout college and married at the end of their senior year. Their friends kidded them that they were only marrying so that they could start their own sports dynasty.

Their daughter Ell did have Kristen’s quickness, magnified by Allan’s strength and accuracy. The child also had a new mutation affecting the myelin sheaths surrounding her nerves. This mutation produced nerve transmission speeds that were nearly double those of normal neurons. Nerve impulse transmissions being faster, she had much quicker reflexes. Yet the new myelin sheath was also thinner, allowing more axons, and therefore more neurons, to be packed into the same sized skull. These two factors resulted in a brain which had more neurons, though it wasn’t larger and a more rapid processing speed, akin to a computer with a smaller scale CPU architecture that enables faster processor speeds.

Most importantly, under the influence of adrenalin in a “fight or flight” situation, her nerves would transmit even more rapidly than their normally phenomenal speed.

Much more rapidly…

Author’s note

“He, she, his, hers, him, and her” are not misspelled, this is part of the story. I believe you would rather discover the reason for yourself so will not give it away here.

Prologue

Dex rose onto hies toes, stretching hies neck to peer over the edge of the rocks near the border of the little meadow. Hies wings quivered involuntarily as hie resisted their effort to lift hies eyes a little higher. A wing beat would quickly give away hies location.

Yes! Syrdian stood in the meadow, just on the other side of the rocks, sunning. Dex admired Syrdian’s pose; tall, neck stretched high, rare and gorgeous silvery yellow wings canted to the sunlight. Syrdian’s pose seemed relaxed, meditative, and peaceful.

Dex had admired Syrdian for hies entire life it seemed. Watching Syrdian from afar, with intense… hope and… longing. Dex fantasized that someday, something would change so that hie might become a plausible mate for Syrdian.

Beautiful, graceful Syrdian. In Dex’s mind the most desirable member of the Yetany tribe. Syrdian, whose rank in the tribe stood so high above Dex’s that Dex’s aspirations to win Syrdian’s love seemed laughable. But a young dalin could dream, couldn’t hie?

The sounds of a strong wing beat came from Dex’s back-up-right and Dex dropped down from tiptoe and turned to cant hies own wings to the sun. Whoever was back there would surely see himr, but hopefully wouldn’t recognize that Dex had been on tiptoe peering at Syrdian. Rather they might believe that Dex and Syrdian just happened to both be sunning on opposite sides of the odd little group of rocks in the meadow, completely unaware of one another.

Looking back-up-right, Dex recognized Qes’ distinctive wing beats even with the low quality vision of hies back eyes. Spying Syrdian, Qes stopped flapping and began gliding a smooth curve down to himr, back wings pumping gently to provide a little thrust. Dex’s heart sank. Handsome Qes nearly matched Syrdian’s desirability and hies parents ranked high in the tribe. While the tribe would laugh at Dex’s aspirations, no one would doubt the suitability of Qes for a mating with Syrdian. Qes and Syrdian had been spending more and more time with one another recently. And to approving glances from the elders.

Worse, Qes might suspect Dex’s infatuation and recognize the reason that hie happened to be sunning himrself across the rocks from Syrdian. Qes was just the type to make fun of Dex at the tribe’s fire tonight. Dex’s wings sagged as hie contemplated the situation.

“Qes!” Dex heard Syrdian sing out joyfully just before Qes landed. Whatever else they were saying, Dex couldn’t hear as they spoke quietly. “Sweet nothings” hie supposed as hie hunched down in hies misery. Dex peered again and saw them clasping one another, wrapping wings and necks around one another and, hie suspected, at least pseudo-mating. Qes must not have seen Dex. Surely they wouldn’t behave in such a fashion if they thought there might be witnesses.

Dex’s heart leapt out of hies chest into hies neck. Could they be actually mating? Could one or both of them be carrying a child soon? If so… Dex’s ridiculous hope of mating someday with Syrdian… was truly hopeless.

Suddenly a huge shadow flashed over! Dex panicked that a talor had come for himr. Hie slammed hies body down into the underhang at the bottom of the rock beside himr, rolling onto hies wings to face up with hies big hind claws up and free. Without conscious thought on hies part hies knives had appeared in hies hands. But there was no talor there, the shadow had flashed past Dex toward the meadow. Syrdian! Dex rolled back out in a terror, scrabbling hies feet under himr, then kicking frantically into the air, catching wind with a violent front wingstroke that launched himr over the rocks hind wings pumping.

Horrified dread clutched Dex’s heart. An enormous talor stood over the hapless Syrdian, one enormous hindclaw pinning Syrdian’s right wing to the ground. Pinned thus, Syrdian couldn’t even turn over to fight for hies life. Qes beat wings away down the meadow fleeing the tragedy, skimming rapidly just above the meadow’s surface and into the trees.

Wondering at hies own insanity, Dex beat higher, then tilted over to glide silently toward the back of the talor that was now lifting another hindclaw onto Syrdian’s wing and reaching forward with its enormous beak. Dex slammed into the talor’s back, sinking hindclaws into the great muscles at the base of the wings and slamming hies knives downward into the base of its neck.

With a tremendous screech the talor rose up, turning its long neck and questing beak back toward Dex. The knives were too short! Dex had hoped to penetrate the brain at the base of the neck but too much muscle overlay it! Hie ripped the knives up and out, flaying muscle on the way, but doing far too little harm to stop the talor. A wing beat and a step forward with hies hindclaws and Dex sunk hies blades into the neck itself, twisting and ripping. The ravening beak approached from hies front-low-left and Dex leaned to the right, avoiding its snapping maw. The beak swung back around front to try from the other side. Dex beat wings again, stepping slightly higher in the talor’s shoulders and reached around, crossing knife hands in front of the neck, sinking the knives in and ripping back out again with all hies might. Blood from the neck arteries squirted over Dex’s hands. The talor coughed. The beak approached from the front-low-right and Dex leaned away again.

But the talor rolled its entire body to the right, threatening to crush Dex underneath itself. A few swift beats lifted Dex off the talor and back-up-left. In despair hie realized that hie’d lost hies protected position behind the talor. Hie would be facing its beak and the crushing impacts of its wing wrists when it attacked himr again. Dex fluttered back-right away, hoping to draw the talor away from the lifeless appearing Syrdian. The talor rolled all the way over and back to its feet but to Dex’s astonishment began coughing almost continuously. It backed away from him. Blood poured down the front of the talor’s neck and evidently into the intake breathing orifice at the base of its neck, causing the now paroxysmal coughing.

Dex turned to Syrdian who lay sprawled, unmoving, in the position that the talor had pinned himr. Three huge tears rent Syrdian’s right wing and, with dismay Dex realized hie couldn’t hear Syrdian’s breath moving. With an agonized moan Dex leaned an earhole down next to Syrdian to listen more carefully. Yes! Breath did hiss into Syrdian’s intake and out hies vent. Low volumes but, still alive! Suddenly remembering the talor, Dex brought hies head up to check its threat level—hie saw the talor quite a ways away, sagging, wings and neck drooped, its breathing labored. It didn’t appear to be a danger to anyone. Dex crouched by Syrdian to study the holes torn in those gorgeous silver yellow wings. Small wounds in wings often repaired themselves, but these were huge. They might heal a little if Syrdian lived, but hie would never fly again. Dex tugged the edges of the biggest tear together. The edges easily reapproximated, especially with the wing relaxed. But they wouldn’t stay together. Dex felt hies wings tremble. “Syrdian…” hie gasped.

Dex picked up hies knives from where hie’ dropped them in the dirt and wiped them. The left one slipped back into its sheath. The right one caught and wouldn’t go back into its place. Dex looked down and saw that the opening in the sheath had been crumpled shut in hies fight with the talor. Hie put a claw into the sheath and pulled the opening back apart, sliding the knife in.

Dex stared at the stitching that hie had used to form the folded piece of leather into a sheath for hies knife. The stitching that held the sheath to hies harness. The stitching that held the harness together. The fine stitching that Dex was known for, trading hies leather work for different goods from others. That’s how hie’d obtained these fine flint knives. Hies eyes drifted back to the tears in Syrdian’s wings. Could stitching repair a wing? Dex wondered. Best done now while Syrdian lay unconscious, puncturing the holes would be very painful if Syrdian were awake.

Dex’s hand fumbled in hies pouch, pulling out the stick hie kept wrapped in fiberlin. Fiberlin useful for binding flint blades to handles and for setting snares. And for leather work.

Dex took hies more finely pointed left knife and made a tiny puncture in Syrdian’s wing next to one of the large tears. Syrdian didn’t respond so hie made a puncture across from it and fed a bit of fine fiberlin through it with a claw, tying it just tightly enough to press the gap shut there. Hie tilted hies head and examined it. It may not last, but it seemed better than leaving the beautiful Syrdian with huge rents in those lovely wings.

Crouching down, Dex made tiny punctures all along the edges of each of the wounds. Then came the interminable passing of fiberlin through the holes, pushing it through with the tip of a claw and then pulling the stitches just tight enough to close the hole without causing ragged overlap. When hie got to the end he went back and loosened some loops where they were too tight and further tightened others. Syrdian began to moan and move slightly. This both raised Dex’s spirits and made the suturing more difficult. At last Dex tied the last fiberlin at the end of the third hole and leaned back to examine hies work. There were small gaps at two locations. Thoughtfully Dex pulled out hies knife and made a puncture in preparation to putting a supplemental suture across the first of the two little gaps. Syrdian’s eyes flew open and hies wing ripped out of Dex’s grasp.

Eyes wide Syrdian pushed himrself to hies feet, “What! What happened? Dex, what are you doing here?”

“You were attacked by a talor.”

“Get out! Why am I still here? Ow!” Syrdian said, pulling hies wing around to inspect it, “What happened to my wing? What are these little strings?” Hie reached a finger to pluck at the wound, “Ow!”

Dex ducked hies head, “I, uh, attacked the talor and it backed off.”

Seemingly not hearing Dex, Syrdian suddenly looked panicked, “No! Qes was here. Where is hie?! Did the talor kill Qes?” Syrdian’s wide eyes focused on Dex.

“Qes escaped.”

“Where is hie?” Syrdian looked frantically about.

“Qes flew front-down-left into the trees there,” Dex said, pointing with a wingtip.

“Qes wouldn’t leave me!” Syrdian turned to look suspiciously at Dex, “Where’s this ‘talor’ you ‘chased away?’” Hies eyes narrowed, “Did you do this to me?!”

Dex looked around, the talor was nowhere to be seen. Hie stepped closer to Syrdian, “No! No, I would never do anything to you! I… I…” Dex couldn’t bring himrself to say, “love you.”

Syrdian backed away in the direction Dex had indicated Qes had gone, “Stay away! Leave me alone!”

Wings sagging in despair Dex watched Syrdian shuffle through the meadow grasses toward the woods Qes had disappeared into. Syrdian flicked hies wings once but the right one appeared to seize in place with a quiver, holding a stationary position while Syrdian’s head turned to look at it, then it slowly folded behind hies back. It must hurt pretty bad, Dex thought.

Syrdian resumed walking but then suddenly stopped, looking front-low-right.

Dex could see nothing. Hie rose to hies tiptoes, still seeing nothing. He beat a few strokes up into the air. Syrdian was staring at the talor, slumped into the grass, a large puddle of blood soaking into the ground around it. Dex nosed over and coasted a glide down to the talor, landing just short.

Syrdian had taken a few steps closer and said, “There was a talor.”

Dex dipped hies head in agreement.

Chapter One

Raleigh, NC—Velos’ “Concert at the End of the World,” a recording made when Velos played a concert at D5R on March 1st has, almost overnight, become the biggest music video sensation in the world. Played against a backdrop of thousands of shooting stars from the broken comet and featuring an astonishing dance by Ell Donsaii, it has attracted over one billion viewers. Velos’ leader Gordon Speight spoke of his gratitude to Donsaii for…

President Flood turned to his Chief of Staff, “We need to give that Donsaii girl some kind of award. What’s the highest award we can give a civilian?”

“The highest is the Presidential Medal of Freedom. She already has one.”

“What? What did she get it for?”

“Uh, she was instrumental in stopping the invasion of Taiwan by the PRC. The whole thing was pretty hush-hush so her award wasn’t publicized.”

Flood’s eyes widened, “What awards hasn’t she won? I know she’s got the Medal of Honor and the Nobel!”

The Chief of Staff raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. Well, she hasn’t gotten any little awards. Seems kind of silly to give her those after she’s won the big ones doesn’t it?”

Flood leaned back in his chair and sighed, “What can we do? We need to recognize her somehow for what she did to stop that comet.”

“We could give her another Medal of Freedom; this one publicly.” He shrugged, it didn’t seem like much for what she’d done…

***

Professor Norris felt embarrassed as he looked out over his class on Planetary Science. “I’d like to begin class today by apologizing for my absence from this class last week. Like many of you, I became caught up in the worldwide panic over the impending impact of Comet Hearth-Daster. I, like many of you and many others in the University community, could not conceive that there would be any means available to deflect the comet. Therefore, I also concluded that the end of our world as we know it was at hand…”

Norris found a frog in his throat and with a shaking voice said, “I hope that someday I can express my gratitude to the fine people at NASA who launched the nuclear weapons that deflected the major fragments and to the people right here in the Triangle at D5R that deflected the smaller fragments…”

He cleared his throat, “That said we have some course work to catch up on, so, let us begin…”

When Norris finished his lecture and had offered make up discussions for his missed lectures—which were, of course, also available on video—he turned to find Belle Donovan standing behind him again. The pretty platinum blond girl’s grades were destroying the curve in the class this semester just like she had during the first semester. This, despite her missing many more of the classes during the run up to the comet’s expected impact, even before his own absence. He smiled, “Yes, Ms. Donovan?”

She looked seriously at him, “I’m wondering what types of precautions we might want to take before landing on an extraterrestrial planet? You know, to prevent contamination of that planet with materials and organisms from Earth… and vice versa.”

Taken aback by the question Norris said, “I don’t think we really need to worry about that issue Ms. Donovan. We’ve almost certainly already contaminated Mars with Earth organisms from some of the many scientific missions sent there. Probably even more so with the mission sent there recently by D5R because the transit time of that little rocket was short enough that it seems quite plausible that microorganisms on their little rocket could have survived the trip. However, aside from Mars, there seems little reason to believe that Earth organisms would have any chance of survival on the other planets in the solar system due to those planets’ inimical environments. And, anything that could survive on the other planets seems unlikely to survive on Earth.”

“But what about planets in other solar systems? Ones that were more Earthlike than the ones in our solar system?”

Norris snorted, “That would be a different matter wouldn’t it. But there’s no point worrying about it in any real sense. There is no way that we can reach them, they’re light years away and if you haven’t yet considered just how far away the nearest stars are, you should.”

“Well, but hypothetically?”

Norris sighed at her persistence. “‘Hypothetically,’ we shouldn’t worry about it. Ain’t gonna happen. If it did, we should sterilize everything we send there and shouldn’t let anything from there return to us here.”

“Not even if we sterilize everything that comes back?”

“How would we know that what came back would be killed by the sterilization methods we use? The organisms there might not be susceptible to the same techniques that work on Earth organisms.”

She frowned, “How would we figure out whether or not they were susceptible?”

“Miss Donovan! I don’t have time to waste on such ridiculous hypotheticals. If we were about to make contact I’d be willing to spend time thinking about them.”

“Are there any scientists in the triangle interested in these types of questions?”

Exasperated he said, “You’re like a little yappy dog that’s sunk its teeth into a sock, you know? Just won’t let go even though someone’s picked you up and is carrying you around dangling from it?” He sighed, “In short, the answer is ‘no.’ No one else in the area is interested in other planetary systems. It’s my field of research and I’m as expert as you’re going to find, but I’m not interested in hypotheticals that have no conceivable application.”

“OK,” she said, beginning to turn away. Then she turned back, “At the beginning of class you said you’d like to meet the people from D5R. Would you like me to arrange for you to be introduced to some of them? I have a friend that works there.”

Norris’ eyes snapped back to hers, “Ell Donsaii?”

Donovan looked panicked for a moment, then said, “You could probably meet her. Would you like a tour of D5R?”

“Absolutely!”

“Tomorrow?”

“You seem pretty sure you can work this out? Are you sure Ms. Donsaii will be there tomorrow?”

“Yes sir. Would nine O’clock be OK? Or do you have a class then?”

***

“What happened to the talor?” Syrdian asked.

“I attacked it while it was attacking you.”

“You didn’t! No one would attack a talor! No one has ever killed a talor.”

Dex lifted hies wings in a shrug, amazed himrself, but not knowing how to refute Syrdian’s argument.

“If someone were to kill a talor, it certainly wouldn’t be you.”

Dex lifted wings in another shrug.

“Qes,” Syrdian called, resuming hies trek to the woods. Over hies shoulder Syrdian said. “What are these threads on my wing?”

A couple of wing beats moved Dex closer and hie began walking parallel but just behind-right to Syrdian. “The talor stood on your right wing and its hind claws ripped your wing membrane.”

“What!” Syrdian stopped and unfurled the right wing to look at it again. “It’s just scratched! It isn’t ripped!”

“It was ripped. I sewed it back together with fiberlin the way I do my leatherwork.”

Syrdian’s eyes flashed wide with panic and focused on the largest rip. Hie moaned. A quiver flashed through hies wings and hie sank to the ground. For a moment Dex thought Syrdian would lose consciousness again, not unreasonable upon the thought of never flying again.

Then Qes called from the forest verge, “Syrdian! Is that you?”

Syrdian’s eyes widened and hie rose back up, “Qes! I’m right here!”

“Where’s the talor?” Qes said leaning out and peering about.

Dex could not help but admire Qes. Tall, handsome Qes with the golden yellow wings. Not as beautiful as Syrdian but close. However, the Qes that Dex knew always acted as if hie were bold. Hie didn’t appear bold now, standing between the boles of two trees, darting hies head this way and that looking for the talor.

“The talor is dead!” Syrdian said beginning to run toward Qes.

“Dead?” Qes said, “What happened to it?” Rather than move out from the trees to meet Syrdian, Qes waited where hie stood.

Syrdian reached Qes and threw arms and wings around himr.

***

Wilson Daster walked to Donsaii’s office with some trepidation. Now that his eponymous comet had been disposed of he’d developed a—he hoped irrational—fear that he would be let go as superfluous. Donsaii had claimed that they needed someone with his forensic accounting skills but he couldn’t imagine what for? D5R had divided itself into three organizations, none of which were very large. Apparently they were all funded by a venture capital organization of some type and, Daster thought, that VC group must have an accounting firm checking up on things?

So, now that his comet was dealt with, and there didn’t really seem like there should be a need for someone with his talents in an organization like this, he worried that she was going to tell him that he was no longer needed. “Yes, Ms. Donsaii?” he said stopping outside her door.

Ell raised her eyebrows, “‘Ms. Donsaii?’ I thought you were calling me ‘Ell’?”

Wilson ducked his head, surprised again to be so intimidated by someone so much younger than he was. “Uh, sorry, Ell. You asked to see me?”

She grinned, “Yeah, come on in and close the door, please?”

Daster’s heart sank. He stepped in and closed the door that rumor said was always open. Probably closed when she was giving bad news, he guessed. He sat and raised his eyebrows attentively.

“I want to tell you some stuff that no one here knows, not even my good friends. I need you to reassure me of your complete discretion. This stuff needs to stay between just you and me. Is that OK?”

He nodded, spirits rising. This didn’t sound like the prelude to a firing, though he had no idea what it might preface? On the other hand, why would she tell him secrets?

“I want to warn you that I consider your agreement, as recorded by our AIs, to be an enforceable contract?” She raised her eyebrows questioningly.

“Yes Ma’am. I agree.”

“OK, I’d like you to pop the chip out of your AI (Artificial Intelligence) headband so that the only recording of our conversation going forward will be on my AI. It’s much more secure than yours.”

Raising his eyebrows, Daster pulled off his AI and popped the PGR chip out of the back. Laying them on the desk he looked up at Ell expectantly.

“OK, first thing for you to understand before you start investigating our finances is that the ‘investors’ that are supporting D5R and the companies splitting from D5R are essentially myself and the employees of D5R. Those employees, like yourself, all have shares accruing from their employment.”

“Wait! Where’s all the money coming from? What you’re describing is like a snake eating its own tail. You can’t finance an organization like this from the paychecks paid to the employees!”

“I have a lot of money.” Ell said quietly.

“From endorsements?” Daster said, thinking to himself, they’re spending millions, endorsements can’t possibly pay for that!

“From the PGR chips.”

Daster’s eyes dropped to the chip he’d just pulled out of his AI headband. “I know they’re based on your paper, but…”

“I patented the chip technology too.”

Daster’s eyebrows went up again, “So you’re getting royalties?”

She nodded.

“And you’re the majority shareholder in D5R and subsidiaries?”

She shrugged, “99% owner at present.”

Daster stared at her while he tried to process this. Could she possibly be telling the truth? Of course she is, I’ve seen what she did with the comet. There probably isn’t anything she can’t do if she puts her mind to it. After a moment he said brilliantly, “Uh, OK.”

“I’m telling you this so you’ll understand that you’re actually working for me, not some nebulous ‘board.’ I want you to examine all the financial arrangements and expenditures, etcetera, for D5R and its sub companies. I even want you to examine my personal finances and the outcomes of my charitable donations. Because I believe in incentives, you get 10% of any misappropriated monies that are recovered.”

Daster sank back in his chair. “Just how much money are the PGR chips paying you?”

“You’re going to be seeing all of those figures yourself pretty soon. But, it’s a minimum of 2.1 billion dollars per year.”

My God, no wonder she can afford to finance D5R!

***

Bridget met Professor Norris at D5Rs entry. “Hello, Dr. Norris. You’re here for a tour and to meet with Ms. Donsaii?”

“Yes please, I would greatly appreciate that. Will Ms. Donovan be with us?”

Bridget tried not to go cross eyed over Norris’ reference to Ell’s alter ego. Ell had set her down last night and explained the Belle Donovan alter ego, asking her to play the part of Belle’s “friend” that worked at D5R. As such she would take him on a tour and introduce him to Ell as “Ell.” Brightly, she said, “Nope, Belle doesn’t work here, though she does know Ms. Donsaii. I work here though and she asked me to take you around and introduce you to Ms. Donsaii, if that’s OK?”

“Sure.”

Bridget didn’t take him to the admin offices, instead taking him directly to the big research room. “This area is where the Portal Tech group is working at present. They’ve moved most of the actual manufacturing of ports to a separate facility but they still do research and design processes here.”

“Portal Tech?”

“Yes, it’s an offshoot of D5R that’s undertaking the actual manufacture of the ports. The ports will then be licensed to other companies for use. Portal Tech has an exclusive license to manufacture and lease ports, though President Teller’s commission negotiated for anyone to be able to use ports. The commission also extended the patent on the port so that their release could be slowed in order to slow the economic upheavals that will result as the ports come into use.”

Norris narrowed his eyes. “Can you explain that? What kind of upheavals?”

Norris wound up sitting down, shaking his head as Bridget explained how ports would someday replace pipes and wires and tankers, etcetera. He’d heard how ports supplied the space station and flew little rockets but had failed to consider the more mundane things they could do. Bridget took him to a central area of the big room where a group of men were cursing at a machine that intermittently clanged. “This is the current home base for ‘ET Resources.’ They’re mining an asteroid, though it doesn’t sound like this is a very good day for them.”

Norris looked at the screen the men were swearing at. Everything was lit in the sharply demarcated fashion one expected of a picture from space where no air diffused the light. One window appeared to be looking out over a field of rubble that had an empty conveyor belt running out over it. The belt was moving slowly out away from the field of view. Another view seemed to show the underside of the belt running back in to converge on paired belts. Rocks were stuck to the underside of the belt as if it were magnetic but when they hit the paired belts at the near end they were scraped off by a plate and pinched between the paired belts. “What’s going wrong?” he asked.

“Well, it is surprisingly hard to move material, like the broken rock there, around in a weightless, airless environment. They need to feed it into a crusher to make it small enough to port back here to D5R. It won’t fall in and can’t be blown or sucked in. If you try to move it too violently it bounces away in the microgravity. Those magnetic belts pick it up, but then won’t let it go. The crusher jams all the time. They’re making an electromagnetic belt system now. The idea being that then they can pick up rocks with magnets on one belt, then transfer it to another by just switching the power from one set of magnets to the other. While they’re waiting for the new system they keep working with what they have out there, trying to get a feel for the problems that are going to crop up next.”

Norris watched in fascination for a short while, then he and Bridget moved on down to the end of the room. Two young women and two men were clustered around a screen chattering excitedly. His eyes initially focused on the tall young man who appeared to be the oldest of the group. Suddenly he realized that one of the two young women was Donsaii. My God, she’s just a kid!
Even younger looking than she appears to be in photos and vids… and wow… so pretty!

Bridget said, “Ms. Donsaii, this is Dr. Norris… The professor that my friend Belle Donovan was hoping you would meet with?”

Ell rose and shook his hand. “Hi Dr. Norris. This is Emma Kenner, Roger Emmerit and Manuel Garcia. We pretty much make up the Quantum Research part of D5R. Wilson Daster here works with us part time and we consult with a lot of other experts. Some from the University, like yourself.”

A frisson of excitement went through Norris at the thought that they might have some reason that they would like to work with him. Maybe he could piggyback some of his own research onto their rockets as they sent them around the solar system?

Donsaii turned to the others, “You guys keep working on that while I talk to Dr. Norris, OK?”

They all nodded and turned back to the screen as Ell led Norris over to one side and sat down at the corner of one of the big tables, motioning him to the other side of the corner.

Norris sat down across the corner from Donsaii noting with surprise that she wasn’t wearing any makeup. Bridget had disappeared he realized. He’d only expected to get to shake Donsaii’s hand and express his appreciation, not actually sit down and talk! It was hard to take his eyes off of Donsaii though. “Ms. Donsaii,” he began, “I’m here, for the most part, because I mentioned in my class, the one that Ms. Donovan attends, just how much I wanted to personally express my gratitude for the role you and D5R played in stopping the comet. I’m sure that I, and countless others, owe you our lives.”

She grinned at him. “Well thanks. I feel a little guilty accepting your gratitude for doing something so self-interested as saving the planet I live upon though.”

Norris chuckled, “I see your point. Still, that doesn’t mean that I’m not grateful that you saved my life along with your own. You may know that Ms. Donovan attends my Planetary Science class?”

Donsaii grinned again, “Yep.”

“That’s my area of research too. So you may understand that I’m hoping that I might piggyback some of my own research ideas onto some of your missions around the solar system? For instance, just a few samples of that asteroid you’re mining would be a huge boon to my studies!”

“Well, now you’re relieving some of my guilt.”

Norris tilted his head questioningly.

“You see we desperately need some solar system expertise, and I actually had Belle out looking for someone who would be an expert. She suggested you.”

“Oh.” Norris’ spirits lifted at the thought that they wanted the very help he wanted to give.

“But I think we have something a lot more interesting to offer you than some asteroid fragments, though we could give you some of those today.”

“You do?!”

“Yes, but we’d want you to sign a confidentiality agreement first.”

Norris frowned. “Confidentiality? About what?”

“Well now, I can’t exactly tell you what it’s about until you sign.”

“I think that would violate academic freedom. I’d want to be able to publish my findings…”

“Oh, and we think you should. But we’d want to be able to delay publication for up to a year if we believed that something should be kept confidential for a while. And we’d want any methods you learned from us to be kept confidential for five years. I’ve sent you a Non-Disclosure Agreement that you can read on your HUD (Heads Up Display). If you don’t feel comfortable with its restrictions we’ll have to look elsewhere. Read through it at your leisure either here or back in your office. If you can agree to it we’ll get started.”

Norris glanced up at his HUD and saw the text of an agreement displayed. He didn’t want to leave without getting started so he said, “Let me look at it here. Maybe I can agree to it now and we can begin.”

“OK, I’ll be with the team. You can just come get me over there when you’re done.” Donsaii got up and walked back over to the other people from the Quantum Research team.

Entranced by the simple grace of her actions, Norris’ eyes tracked her on her walk back over to her team. Reluctantly, he turned his eyes back up to his HUD.

***

Dex dispiritedly watched Qes and Syrdian holding one another for a moment. Somehow hie had thought that hies attack on the talor and the saving of Syrdian’s life might compensate for hies low status. Might even improve hies low status in the tribe? While hie’d sutured Syrdian’s wings hie’d imagined Syrdian looking at himr in a new light. Or at least noticing himr. Well, hie chuckled bitterly, Syrdian had actually spoken to himr. Hie shook hies head at hies own naiveté. Wings drooping, hie turned back to the talor, wondering if the meat would be any good.

Dex had hacked a couple of big chunks of meat out of the talor’s thigh. About as much as hie thought hie could carry back to the tribe. Hie looked up and saw Syrdian and Qes at the forest verge, Syrdian’s wings spread. Qes started inspecting the right one. Then Syrdian beat hies wings gently a couple of strokes. They drooped quivering down onto hies back. As Dex watched, Qes leaned close, reached for hies knife and brought it to Syrdian’s wing.

Dex’s heart sank, what was Qes going to do?

Qes’ wings rose in alarm and hie cried out. A beat of hies wings backed himr away from Syrdian. Then crying, “Dyatso!” Qes beat into the sky and up away from the meadow.

“Dyatso!” Dex thought in horror. “Dyatso” was a term meaning “walking dead.” Doubly horrifying because it encompassed not only the inability to fly but also the approach of death that inevitably followed the loss of the ability to fly. How could hie say “dyatso” to Syrdian?! It might be true, but how… how could hie say it to beautiful Syrdian? The Syrdian that hie says hie loves?

Syrdian collapsed to the ground as Qes flew away. Dropping the meat hie’d cut free from the talor, Dex flew back to Syrdian with a few powerful strokes, dropping to Syrdian’s side. Hie looked in horror at Syrdian’s wing where a few of Dex’s fiberlin sutures had been cut. They had pulled out, allowing the largest rip to pull open about a third of its length. Evidently traumatized by the realization that hies wing truly was ripped, Syrdian had fainted again. With a sigh and a shrug of hies wings Dex crouched, pulling out hies roll of fine fiberlin.

Dex was tying the last knot in hies re-repair job when Syrdian’s eyes opened again. Syrdian lifted hies head, “Qes?” Seeing Dex, Syrdian said, “Where’s Qes?”

Dex shrugged hies wings, “Gone.”

Syrdian relaxed back down, “Hie must have gone for help from the tribe.”

Wide eyed, Dex wanted to shake Syrdian. Hie thought, didn’t you hear himr call you “dyatso” as hie left you here alone, but for me? Dex’s eyes narrowed. If Syrdian really couldn’t fly with the holes in hies wings sutured shut hie probably was dyatso. The heat of summer would be upon them soon. Migration to the south would begin tomorrow. Life here in the heat of summer would be impossible. Dex had sometimes wondered if it would be possible to live in this area if you moved higher on the mountain. Everyone knew it was cooler as you went up. Harder to fly because the air was thinner but doable. But to get higher on the mountain without flying? Syrdian would have to walk through a lot of forest. Despite the fact that Qes had hidden from the talor in the forest, the forest wasn’t safe. There were many large wingless predators in there. Thinking of that, Dex looked carefully over the verge to make sure one of those large forest predators wasn’t sizing them up from just inside the trees. Hie didn’t see any large infrared objects, only the expected smaller animals. He puffed his lips, tasting the air, “Syrdian?
We should move farther from the verge,” hie said. “Who knows what might be lurking there.”

Syrdian’s head rose, turning violently to allow himr to study the verge himrself, “Why? Do you see something?”

“No, but by the time we see it, it might be too late.”

Syrdian got to hies feet and said, “OK, let’s move.” Hie looked at hies wing, “Hey the hole is gone!”

“I tied back the sutures Qes cut out.”

Syrdian looked at Dex, then at hies wing, then back at Dex, “You really did sew my wing up like you do your leatherwork?”

Dex nodded, turning to walk back to the talor. Flying back when Syrdian couldn’t seemed rude.

When they reached the talor, Syrdian said, “Look at all that meat! I’m hungry!”

Dex said, “Shall we cook some?”

“Do you know how?”

Dex shrugged, “Sure. Not like they do it at the cave, but well enough to eat.”

“OK,” Syrdian said, crouching and looking expectantly at Dex.

***

Qes stared disconsolately into the distance, how could this have happened to me? This morning he’d been on top of the world, highly ranked in the tribe, nearly mated to the beautiful Syrdian. Syrdian, likely the highest ranked among the tribe’s youth. They’d been pseudo mating for days now and this morning Syrdian had suggested that they sneak away to their favorite meadow to do it again.

Now, with the beautiful Syrdian mutilated, Qes would have to find another potential mate. A difficult task with many of the higher ranked youth already committed to others.

Briefly Qes wondered if there was any way that Syrdian could survive? A shiver ran over hies wings, obviously not. Even if Syrdian somehow made it back to the cave through the forest, the migration would be tomorrow and there would be no way for Syrdian to fly south, nor to survive the summer heat if hie stayed here. And… if Syrdian somehow survived… Qes didn’t want to be mated to a mutilated, low status, Syrdian.

Qes dreaded hies return to the cave. When Syrdian didn’t return dalins would ask Qes if hie’d seen himr. Especially Syrdian’s parents. Qes’d have to deny seeing Syrdian or they’d want himr to lead them to the meadow. Hie shrugged hies wings, crueler really, to take them to Syrdian and have them find himr with a mutilated wing. Then they’d all have to come to grips with Syrdian’s eventual death. No, better and kinder not to tell them what had happened. Let them think Syrdian had died immediately at the hands of a talor… or something else. Better by far than seeing himr alive and having to leave himr to hies death. Qes didn’t have to even admit to being with Syrdian when it happened.

Hie shouldn’t return until nearly dark to eliminate the chance that they’d go out searching and find Syrdian by some unlucky chance. A flightless Syrdian couldn’t possibly be able to survive the night, thus sparing hies parents the pain of finding Syrdian mutilated and begging for the help they couldn’t give.

Chapter Two

Norris walked over to where Donsaii still sat with the others staring at a screen. “I agree except for clause 2.6 where I would want to limit that to one year as well.”

Donsaii’s eyes narrowed a moment, then she smiled, “OK. My AI’s recording this as a binding contract, do you agree?”

Norris shrugged, “Sure.”

“Great, look at this with us.”

Donsaii turned the screen they were looking at a little toward him and he saw an image of Earth from space. Although… he tilted his head curiously… The cloud cover was really heavy… Could it be Venus? No he saw a swath of blue in a break in the clouds. Norris narrowed his eyes and said, “That’s more clouds than I’ve ever seen…” He looked at the four of them and they were all grinning widely. He looked back at the screen, “What is this?”

Kenner said in a hushed voice, “That’s the third planet of Tau Ceti.”

Norris stared at her, then at Donsaii, then back at the screen. The skin prickled on his scalp, “How?”

Emmerit said, “The girls here sent a rocket out there with a camera.”

“Oh Jeez,” Norris put a hand down on the table and leaned on it, taking an almost gasping breath. “Really? How?” He looked at the screen again, “Is that blue showing through the clouds?”

“Yeah, oxygen, nitrogen, CO atmosphere,” Emmerit whispered reverently. “We’re assuming the blue is water. Initially, when the planet looked white from far away we thought it must be an ice world. It’s pretty far out at the outer edge of the ‘habitable zone’ where the temperature should be right for liquid water. We assumed it would be mostly frozen. There’s more CO than Earth and quite a bit of methane that may be boosting the greenhouse effect”

“My God! There must be some kind of life to create the oxygen. What does it look like?”

Donsaii shrugged. “We don’t know. We haven’t sent anything down into the atmosphere yet. There is a huge green area in the southern hemisphere though; we’re thinking maybe some kind of ‘supercontinent’ like the original Pangaea here on Earth? Maybe the green means something like chlorophyll?”

Norris’ eyes widened even further, “Really?”

“Yeah, so that’s what we’ve been working on. We’re trying to design a vehicle that won’t contaminate TC3 with our organisms and vice versa. Then we can go down and have a look.”

“TC3?”

“Short for Tau Ceti Three. We don’t have a name for it yet. Here, look at this.”

The screen filled with a diagram of a rocket. Donsaii said, “We can send data back through PGR chips, so that avoids any transfer of organisms as long as we sterilize the rocket before we put it through the port to TC3. However, normally we have ports sending LOX and LNG to the main rocket motor and just plain compressed gas through ports to act as attitude jets. Now our plan is to use steam for the attitude jets, since that should be sterile. At first we were thinking that the cold would kill organisms in the LOX and LNG that we use for our main rocket propellants. However, we’ve since learned that cryogenic temperatures are actually used to preserve bacteria. Now, microbes should be killed in the rocket’s flame, but what about the little puffs of gas that leak out right before ignition? We’ve been thinking about putting something toxic in the first puffs so that it will be sterile until the flame starts but then we’d be squirting toxic stuff into the atmosphere there… And the mechanics of putting something toxic in the initial puffs are problematic.” She frowned.

Norris said, “How about using ethanol. Bacteria are killed in alcohols.”

Emmerit frowned, “That’d be good, but we’d still have bacteria in the liquid oxygen.”

“Use hydrogen peroxide as your oxidizer, bacteria die in that too.”

“So both propellants are bactericidal, but not horribly toxic and they burn to water and CO.” Donsaii mused.

Norris said, “Well, they’re both kinda toxic at high concentrations.”

Ell shrugged “No toxic exhaust at least. Great idea!” she smiled broadly at him, “Already glad to have you aboard.” She looked around at her little group, “Remember, we can’t use port supplied fuel cells to power the stuff on board the rocket either. We don’t want to leak bacteria through those ports either. I’m figuring that we have to keep the fuel cell here and send sterilized wire through a hot interface into tiny ports in the rocket. The wires can supply the power for the camera, PGR chips and ports. Maybe we should start supplying power through wires to all our ports, even here on Earth?”

Eyebrows rose over that idea, though Norris didn’t really understand the issue. They went back to discussing how to assemble a sterile rocket. Or a sterilizable rocket anyway. Then what instruments to put on the first rocket to descend to the surface of TC3? Norris suggested instruments to measure gravity, atmospheric composition and a DNA detection instrument.

“DNA? Surely alien life will use a different molecule for encoding genetic data?”

Norris shrugged, “One theory is that DNA in bacterial spores or viral capsids could have spread all around the universe on stellar winds and by explosions of supernovae. Such DNA could have re-evolved life on each new world.” He raised his eyebrows, “We have no idea if this theory is true, but now we can find out.”

Eventually, his world view sorely shaken, Norris left D5R with video of TC3 and a number of samples of asteroid 2019 UB40.

As Ell walked Norris out, Emma smiled up at Roger. “I thought you explained things very nicely to Norris.”

“You did?” Roger said, trying to remember what he’d explained well. “Thanks.” He looked momentarily at Emma. She’d done something interesting with her hair. It looked like a curly tangle, but he suspected a purposeful tangle. Anyway it looked good. “Hey, you know it’s a lot of fun working with you. Too bad you weren’t in Johnson’s lab with us back at NCSU.”

Emma wrinkled her nose at him, “Nope, I could never have worked with Johnson!” She tilted her head. “Maybe it would have been OK if you’d been assigned to the Sponchesi lab…”

Roger grinned at her, “Nah, I never get the easy way out.” He winked.

***

Dex thought that Syrdian was nothing like the wonderful, competent dalin hie’d always pictured when admiring himr from afar. Hie seemed to be waiting for Dex to do everything. To be fair Syrdian was injured, but it was only hies wing. The selfless and wonderful Syrdian hie’d always imagined would have pitched in to help with hies perfectly functional hands. Dex examined the verge for infrared, then beat into the air and flew close to it puffing to take the scent of the air there. It smelled safe. Hie landed by a dead tree and quickly picked up some deadwood, one branch of which had a cluster of dead leaves. A few beats took himr back to Syrdian and the talor. Hie cleared the grass off an area and shredded some of the dry leaves. Hie pulled out hies flint and striker and struck a few sparks that started the shredded leaves burning. Dex laid a few dry sticks on the leaves and then a couple of larger branches. Once the fire was burning hie flew back to cut some straight green sticks. Soon hie had some pieces of talor speared on a stick and suspended over the fire. During the entire time Syrdian watched with interest as if hie’d never seen anything cooked in hies life. Hasn’t hie ever even watched while food is being prepared back at the cave? Dex wondered. Why isn’t hie helping?! Is it just that hie doesn’t want to sully himrself by helping a “low status” like me?

When Dex took the meat off the fire and cut off pieces for Syrdian and himrself hie could see that hie’d had it too close to the fire. The outside was a little burned while the inside was just past warm. Dex wished hie had some salt to season the meat, but it was quite a flight to the nearest lick that Dex knew of.

Syrdian bit into one of hies pieces. “It’s tough!” hie exclaimed.

Dex shrugged hies wings, “Predators usually are.”

Syrdian laid hies piece of talor down, “I’ll wait for them to bring something better.”

Dex’s eyes widened. Syrdian still didn’t seem to have any idea how serious hies situation was. “Uh…” Dex began but found hie couldn’t continue. What would I say? “Your lover Qes has given you up for dead and has almost certainly told the tribe that you were killed?” I don’t know that it’s true. Unable to bring himrself to tell Syrdian, hie said nothing after the “Uh.” Hie resumed eating hies talor.

Syrdian said, “What?” and then when Dex didn’t respond said, “I can’t believe that you’re still eating that.”

“I think we’re going to be hungry,” Dex said darkly.

Syrdian frowned, “Why? Surely when they come, they’ll bring food.”

Dex shrugged hies wings and turned to contemplate nightfall. A lot of ground based predators were out at night. Would a fire keep them away? Would the scent of talor deter them or would the scent of death bring them? “Syrdian?”

Syrdian had been looking up the mountain in the direction of the cave, as if wondering where hies rescuers were. Hie turned to Dex, “Yes?”

“I don’t think we should stay here near the talor. Scavengers are going to show up sooner or later. You don’t want to be between a brek and its dinner.”

Syrdian looked surprised, probably because breks were too slow moving to be threats to a dalin like himrself. But that assumed that the dalin could fly. On the ground breks were pretty fierce. Syrdian’s look became shadowed as hie realized that hie actually could become a tasty morsel for a brek. “OK, where do you think we should move?”

“Over between some of the rocks over there,” Dex pointed a wing. “Not exactly a cave, but as good as we can get here. I’ll fly over and look for a good place, you carry over a brand from the fire?”

Syrdian shrugged hies wings, “OK.” Hie picked up a reasonable brand from the fire and turned to go.

Dex picked up several of the sticks he’d brought earlier, “Can you take some wood too? I don’t want to make a lot of trips.”

Looking irritated, Syrdian stopped and went back for more. “Why do we want a fire over there? We aren’t cooking anymore.”

“Keep away predators,” Dex said, beating into the air. Hie flew above the rocks where they stuck up to form their little ridge near one side of the meadow. Three of them closed off a small area and hie landed there, waving a wing at Syrdian. Hie cleared a small area at the front edge of the closed off area and laid the wood hie’d brought there. Then hie beat into the air and back across the meadow to the dead wood at the verge. Once again hie checked visually and puffed hies mouth, sucking air over the olfactory patches on hies lips to smell for predators. Not smelling any predators hie landed and loaded up with more wood.

Dex made another trip but when hie returned with the load of wood found that Syrdian had piled all of Dex’s first load on the fire. The flames had risen so high that Syrdian had had to leave the rock enclosure. “You put it all on the fire? Why!”

“Why did you get so much wood?” Syrdian asked indignantly.

“So we’d have some for later!” Dex said exasperatedly.

“Later?! Why?”

“Syrdian! What if no one from the tribe comes! If we’re here all night, we’ll need fire to keep predators away! I won’t be able to go get more wood in the middle of the night.”

“Why wouldn’t they come?” Syrdian asked in amazed tone.

“Qes…” Dex said disdainfully, then paused, unable to think how to remind Syrdian what Qes had said.

“Qes what?” Syrdian snapped indignantly.

“Qes called you dyatso! Hie hasn’t gone for help, you’re dead to himr.”

“Hie wouldn’t!”

“Hie did. You heard himr, you just won’t admit it to yourself.”

“Wouldn’t.” Syrdian turned to look off over the trees in the direction of the cave. Waiting, presumably, for some dalins to wing into view, thus proving Dex wrong.

“I’m going to go get more wood.” Dex said disgustedly, “Don’t put any more on the fire.”

Dex made six trips to the verge and back and built up quite a pile of wood. Syrdian simply sat and stared sullenly up the mountain. Dex made another trip to the talor and brought back meat. This time hie had to chase away some dlak that were scavenging the carcass. As hie sat, cutting the meat into strips and hanging it near the fire to dry, hie wondered why hie was staying with Syrdian. Yes, Syrdian was beautiful and yes Dex had longed for Syrdian for… forever. But now that hie’d actually spent time with Syrdian hie found himr annoying and… shallow. And, worst of all, incompetent to take care of himrself! Dex felt like hie was staying out of sympathy now, not out of hies previously misguided sense of love.

Just before the sun went down Dex flew back to the verge and cut four straight shafts about hies height. After dark hie trimmed and peeled them, then sharpened a point onto one end of each of them. He carefully fire hardened their points. Such pointed staves were supposed to be useful for fending off predators though hie’d never used one himrself. Hie laid two staves on each side of the fire and then leaned the others against the big rock at the back of the small enclosure. He crouched down back there himrself. Partly because it was too warm by the fire and also because hie worried about something dropping down from above. Hie tried to reassure himrself that the big flying predators like talors didn’t fly at night. Besides, they were afraid of fire, weren’t they?

***

Deltain looked up from the harness he’d been working on. The sun had set. Hie stood and walked over to the edge of the flat ledge that provided a work area in front of the great cave. Deltain looked out into the dimming sky. Where was Dex? Hie’d promised not to push it so close to dark like this! Worry fought with irritation in Deltain’s hearts.

Dex was at a difficult age, young adult, angry with the low position in the tribe’s hierarchy that Genex had left himr. Shifting from the compliance of youth to the defiance of a young adult. Dex knew how Deltain worried when hie didn’t get home well before dark, yet hie frequently pushed it! Deltain’s wings rippled in frustration. Would Dex behave this way if it weren’t for hies low status? Hie wondered if Dex might be less rebellious if hies status rose, something Deltain hoped might happen as Dex’s ability to produce fine leatherwork became more and more apparent.

Distantly Deltain realized that several other parents were standing on the ledge looking out into the dimming light, perhaps frustrated with the same issues?

A dalin appeared against the sunset sky, winging its way toward the cave. Deltain’s hearts lifted, Dex? Hies hearts sank as the dalin approached and hie recognized the handsome Qes, an age mate of Dex, but of very high status. Qes landed beside hies parents and clasped them.  Then Qes glanced at the other parents waiting on the ledge. Deltain recognized they were the parents of Syrdian, Qes’ romantic interest. Qes spoke quietly to hies own parents while repeatedly glancing over at Syrdian’s parents.

Syrdian’s parents approached Qes. Deltain heard them ask, “… seen Syrdian?”

Qes waved hies head in negation and the parents, wings drooping, returned to their vigil, looking out over the enormous valley below.

As Qes and hies parents moved back into the cave Deltain approached. “Did you maybe see Dex out there today?” hie asked.

Qes glanced at Deltain, appearing startled, then again waved hies head in negation.

Deltain returned to hies vigil at the front of the cave thinking how unlikely it would have been that Dex and Qes would have encountered one another. Hie racked hies memories, trying to remember if Dex had told himr where hie was going when hie left that morning.

***

Allan, Ell’s AI (Artificial Intelligence) said, “You have a call from Kant Fladwami PhD., President Flood’s science advisor.”

Ell stood up from the table where she and Roger had been looking at some of the components for the next TC3 rocket, “I’ll be back in a sec Rog’.” To her Allan, her AI she said, “Put him on. Yes, Dr. Fladwami?”

“Hello, Ms. Donsaii. Chip Horton, my predecessor here in the President’s Science Advisor’s office suggested that I get to know you. Something about, ‘not knowing what you were doing’ being a frequent source of embarrassment.”

Ell laughed, “I don’t think that’s really true, Doctor.”

“Nonetheless I thought I’d check in to see if you had any new technology that was about to turn our entire economy upside down?”

“No sir.”

“Nothing exciting happening at D5R anymore?”

“Well, exciting things are happening, but they shouldn’t really impact the economy.”

Fladwami chuckled “Are you telling me I don’t have a ‘need to know?’”

Ell laughed again, liking Fladwami a lot already. “I guess you could say that, Doctor.”

“OK, the President also asked me to find out why nothing seems to be happening with putting your ‘ports’ into action out there in the real world. Our understanding from Horton was that you were going to try to slow down the release of that tech some so that there wouldn’t be too many economic upheavals. But we’re surprised that we don’t seem to be hearing anything about it so far?”

“Uh, yes sir. Outgoing Transportation Secretary Bayless was vehemently opposed to the release of that tech, so the Pipeline and Hazardous Materials Safety Administration has been refusing us licenses except for space portals so far. We’re hoping that the new Secretary will get them to loosen up a little. We’ve made all the applications as required and they haven’t told us that anything is wrong with the applications that we need to fix, just that ‘approval is pending.’”

“Really?”

“Yes sir.”

“Well that’s just the kind of government interference with private enterprise that President Flood campaigned on. I’ll bring that to the Secretary’s attention for you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You’ll let me know if anything else world changing is about to pop out of your labs?”

“Yes sir. I may be calling to tell you about something that won’t change the economy, but is still scientifically important?”

Fladwami raised his eyebrows. He wondered what that could be. “You do that… Next item on my agenda, the President has asked me to invite you to the White House for a personal meeting next week. Would you be able to come up?”

“He’s my Commander in Chief. Of course I can come. Is there something in particular on the agenda that I should prepare for?”

“No preparation needed. Would Thursday evening, dinner at the White House, 6:30 PM be satisfactory?”

“Yes sir. Just show up?”

“Well,” he laughed, “Wear something nice, the dinners tend to be formal.”

“Yes sir.”

***

Disconnected, Fladwami leaned back in his chair. It was hard to reconcile the respectful young voice on the other end of that call with what Horton—and he had to agree—had called ‘the greatest scientific mind in of the century.’ Well, Horton, had said ‘of all time,’ but Fladwami wasn’t sure about that yet. He shrugged, that might well be true too…

***

Ell turned to go back to her Quantum Tech group but found Wilson Daster standing between her and the rest of the group. She raised her eyebrows. He said, “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

Ell closed her eyes. “You’ve found someone diddling the books?” she sighed.

“Yeah.”

She laughed hollowly, “Well, I guess this isn’t as bad as when you called to tell me that a comet was going to wipe all of us out?”

“Not quite that bad, no.”

***

Dex woke in the night to find the fire out. Hie heard snarling and snapping from the direction of the talor’s carcass. When hie got up, Syrdian’s voice came out of the stygian darkness, “Where are you going?”

“To restart the fire.” Dex got up and felt around for the firewood. A meteor fireball streaked over, starkly lighting the area for a moment. With the wood and the fire’s locations fixed in hies mind hie quickly found several sticks and stirred through the fire until the motion activated a few coals. The sticks caught and Dex moved some more wood close by. Hie looked out into the darkness and saw the eyes of some nocturnal creature looking back at himr. Hie shivered and lay down, closer to the fire this time. After all he would have to add wood frequently.

***

“OK,” Ell said, looking around. “The test ports still functioned after we sterilized them with chlorine dioxide. So each of us need to look over the plans again to be sure there are no cavities inside the TC3 rocket that are closed off, we want the chlorine dioxide to be able to get into every area. Dr. Norris, your ethanol-peroxide rocket engines are working fine. I’m confident that we’ve protected TC3 from Earth microorganisms. I’m still worried about backflow from TC3 to Earth, especially through the attitude jets that we usually just blow gas through. Firing and killing ethanol-peroxide rockets doesn’t happen fast enough to give us the fine control we’re used to for attitude.”

Roger said, “I’ve been worrying about that too, and I have a suggestion that I think is doable with port tech?”

They all turned to him. “You put a long pipe out in space through a port. I’m talking hundreds of meters. It has a port at one end that we put compressed air into from down here. At the other end you put a series of ports that go to the attitude jets. Then we wrap the Earth end of the pipe with heating elements that we use to keep the 20 meters closest to earth at about 500C. That is far, far beyond the temperature that any earth spores can survive at. Presumably it would sterilize any TC3 organisms too. So air flows in one end, gets heat sterilized in that first 20 meters, then flows down to the cold end of the pipe where it cools back down. Anything back-flowing through the port at the TC3 end would have to pass through the hot end before it could get back here to earth. You put the pipe into a decaying orbit around the sun so that, after we’re done with it, if it were contaminated with something bad, no one could pick it up and accidentally encounter any TC3 microorganisms.”

Roger said, “We could ‘black’ the hot end and ‘mirror’ the cold end so that the sun would help us keep one end hot and the other end cool. I’d also suggest that we make it so that we can heat 40 meters when we’re expecting to use the jets and only 10 meters between jet uses. Then we can be sure that nothing from this end might move through the hot section so fast that it doesn’t get killed.”

They added to the list of instruments they wanted on the rocket and finally included one of Ben Stavos’ mechanical arms and a port behind a glass window that they could shine light through at night or use to fire lasers through, ablating materials for spectroscopic analysis. That port was a double port with the intermediate section on the “space pipe” and filled with toxic gas.

Wilson Daster suggested that every port to the TC3 rocket have an intermediary on the space pipe, if possible in the hot end.

Eventually, happy with the design, they all divided up to order materials and design the machining of parts.

Ell reluctantly headed back to the offices. Wilson caught up to her, “Do you want me to be the bad guy? I’ve done it before and I don’t know her like you do.”

Ell looked at him, sorely tempted. “No. I actually don’t want people to know what your secondary task is. Don’t want them trying to ‘work around you.’ And, believe it or not, I might not fire her.”

Daster’s eyebrows went up. “You’re kidding, she’s been stealing from you!”

“She’s a great employee.” Ell shrugged, “I think she deserves a second chance.”

“Okaaay.” Daster shrugged, “You’re the boss.”

Ell knocked on Sheila’s doorframe and Sheila looked up saying brightly, “Come on in Bosslady.”

Ell entered her office, closed the door and sat down, then she just stared at Sheila.

A minute passed while the blood drained from Sheila’s face, then she crumpled, “I’m so sorry,” she gasped, “so sorry. I’ll be packed up in a minute.”

Ell said, “What do you think I should do?”

“You should call the police. I’m hoping against hope that you’ll settle for just firing me… I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I love working here. You’re paying me more than anyone else ever would. My shares…” She blinked rapidly, then grabbed for a Kleenex.

Intently focused on Sheila Ell said, “I’ll bet this isn’t the first time?”

Sheila blew her nose, “First time I’ve gotten caught.”

“So if we fired you, you’d probably just wind up preying on your next employer.”

“I hope not. Course, I probably,” she choked a little, “probably I wouldn’t be able to get another job.”

“Sheila, you’ve been a great employee. Probably one of the most important people we’ve had to making all of D5R work. I don’t want to ruin your life. I don’t want to send you out there to prey on someone else. So I’m going to offer you a chance to stay here…”

Sheila’s eyes widened and she stared at Ell.

“But, I suspect you have a personality disorder that compels you to do these kinds of things. Will you seek treatment?”

Sheila nodded spastically, gulping.

“And you have to be aware now that we’ve got systems in place to catch you if you do it again?”

Sheila nodded again.

“And you need to return everything you took, plus 10%?”

“I will, Thank you,” she whispered

Ell nodded and got up. “I thought of you as a friend, and I still do. I hope you don’t make me regret this.”

“No Ma’am.”

When Ell got back to her office, Roger was waiting for her, “Hey, who shot your dog?”

“Bein’ the boss shot my dog. Sometimes you have to make decisions that seem like they’re no win. Do you have another problem for me?”

Roger grinned, “Nope, I’ve got an opportunity.”

Ell closed her eyes momentarily, then opened them. “Power generation?”

Roger narrowed his, “Yesss… What are you meaning by power generation?”

“Your black pipes in close solar orbit. You want to squirt water in one end and harvest steam out the other end using ports, yes?”

“Yeah! Did you have the same idea?”

“Kinda. There are issues though. You know that there is a velocity limitation to how fast stuff can pass through a port right?”

Roger smacked his forehead, “Damn! And the steam would be flowing too fast when it exited the pipe. Right?”

“Right.  Unless we have a really large diameter port for it to flow back through at a lower velocity, but then it’ll take a lot of power to energize the port.”

Brow furrowing, Roger tilted his head back to stare up at the ceiling. “Wait! We could use a heat transfer fluid, like Therminol.” He brought his eyes back down to look at Ell.

“Heat transfer fluid?”

“Yeah, a fluid that wouldn’t boil at the temps we’re shooting for, say 340 degrees centigrade. Therminol is just one brand. We pump it through our black pipe in near solar orbit and back here to earth. The transfer fluid doesn’t boil at those temps so it doesn’t expand into steam and there’s no increase in velocity. Once it comes back here hot, we run the transfer fluid through a pipe in a water tank. The water boils into steam and powers our electric generator.” He sat back up and lifted a finger, frowning, then smiling, “Then, instead of just exhausting the steam into the atmosphere and heating the earth, we cool it against a second heat transfer fluid loop that we’ve cooled by running it through a pipe way out in deep space. That pipe radiates the heat away. We condense our steam, don’t heat the planet and save ourselves the cost of buying more water!”

“Roger, that’s brilliant!”

“Oh! And… we don’t just sell steam for power generation; we can use it for heat! And we can use the deep space pipes for air conditioning! Holy cripes! Talk about energy conservation! My God, this could solve a lot of problems!”

Ell jumped up and gave him a hug. “Way to go Rog’!” She held him back out at arm’s length. “Way to go,” she whispered, her eyes getting a little misty as she looked up at Roger. Roger, her handsome, smart, “friendly boy.” The boy she loved but couldn’t seem to love. The boy she wanted Emma to have, but didn’t want to let go of, especially when he was having this moment of brilliance.

Roger, not recognizing the tumultuous thoughts pouring through Ell’s mind, waggled his eyebrows, “Want to spin another company off D5R with me? We’ll be rich!”

Ell looked wistfully at him another moment, then let go and sat down. “Yes, you will. I’d rather keep doing research rather than trying to be a commercial success. But I’ll wish you the best of luck and help you get started.”

Roger looked like he’d been poleaxed, “No! I want to do it with you
Ell!” He quirked the corner of his mouth, “I want us to be rich together. If this is an invention, it’s partly yours.”

She looked wistfully at him then said, “I’d rather license my share to someone else so I can keep doing research.”

Roger brightened, “OK, who?”

“ET Resources for one, this is right up their alley.”

“OK! Let’s go talk to them.”

“First let’s get you some patent protection. And you should build a working model.”

Chapter Three

Morning found Dex huddled next to the fire with Syrdian crowded next to himr. Dex’s thoughts stumbled, remembering hies old fantasies of sleeping next to Syrdian. Hie thought about trying to snuggle even closer to Syrdian to “ward off the cold” but, fearing rejection, instead hie got up to put wood on the fire.

A little later Syrdian tore into the pieces of talor hie’d rejected the evening before. Hies eyes widened, “This tastes better today.”

“You’re hungrier today.”

“No, really, I think something happened to it to make it better.”

Dex shrugged hies wings in doubt and started taking the strips of dried meat off hies green withe frame over the fire and stuffing them in hies carry harness. When hies harness was full hie passed some to Syrdian.

Syrdian frowned without taking it, “I don’t think I’m going to want to eat any of that. I’m pretty sure it’ll be too tough to be any good.”

Dex stared at Syrdian disgustedly for a moment, then turned and thundered into the air, turning to head back to the cave. Hie couldn’t believe that hie’d ever found Syrdian desirable! Hie certainly wasn’t going to stay, at considerable risk to himrself, to help someone so incapable of recognizing hies dire situation or undertaking to try to save himrself. Dex assuaged hies guilt at leaving by thinking that hie could just turn this problem over to Syrdian’s parents. A niggling doubt told himr that hies parents couldn’t save Syrdian either. Dex had had crazy ideas about how to do it but hie doubted that anyone else would consider them.

So, essentially hie was leaving Syrdian to hies death. Even if Syrdian couldn’t or wouldn’t recognize that.

As Dex rose over the verge and out over the forest a fireball popped through the clouds above, moving slower than any fireball Dex had ever seen. It dropped down, appearing to be sinking toward the meadow Dex had just left. Dex could swear that it was, as bizarre as it seemed, moving slower and slower as it dropped toward the meadow.

Dex banked back toward the meadow. To hies utter astonishment the fireball came to a halt, just above the grass of the meadow. The flames shooting out of the bottom of it started a fire in the grass; good thing the grass was really green. The meteorite gradually sank to the ground and then stopped, the fire going out.

Dex curved around to circle it, beating gently with hind wings only. It seemed to be a long slender object, mostly silvery in color. It had little legs sticking out of the sides near the bottom and keeping it upright! It looks nothing like the meteorites I’ve seen before! Meteorites were considered powerful omens, sometimes for good, sometimes for evil. Dex found them fascinating. However, every meteorite Dex had ever seen—ones that others had found after they came down and one that Dex had seen crash into the ground himrself—were black and lumpy. Actually they were hot right after they landed and glowing infrared. They frequently started fires like this one had, but eventually they cooled into irregular lumpy black things. When they landed, they landed hard, usually making a hole in the ground. No one had ever described anything like what Dex had just witnessed! A silvery narrow meteorite, shaped like a short, thick stick, which came down slowly, and landed gently! With legs!

Dex banked around it, spiraling down to land about 6 paces away from it. Hie didn’t feel heat radiating from it like hie had the one other time hie’d witnessed a meteorite landing. The bottom part of it was pretty bright infrared though. Hie crouched down to watch it for a while.

***

Norris walked into D5R resisting the impulse to trot. He’d taught his 11 AM class and had arranged for a grad student to teach his afternoon class. Donsaii and the others had probably already started the rocket’s descent to TC3 and he hoped he wasn’t going to miss the touchdown. The rocket they’d designed to be sterile had been put through the Tau Ceti port and flown to the planet, arriving during the night last night. The landing site they’d chosen based on glimpses through the clouds was on the side of an enormous mountain and it would be just past sun rise there about now. Or Tau Ceti rise?

He strode into the big room down near the end where Donsaii and the others did most of their work, but no one was there! He looked around, hoping no one thought he looked frantic, though that was the way he felt. One of the machinists walked by and he said, “Hey, any idea where the Quantum Research folks are today?”

The guy frowned, “Yeah, they’re all down in the little conference room. Not sure why.” He pointed and Norris turned to head down there in a very disappointed mood. Has something gone wrong? Are they just having a post mortem? He knocked on the door and tried the knob. It’s locked?

Emma opened the door, “Dr. Norris! Come on in! You’re just in time; we should be coming out of the clouds any time now.” She spoke quietly as if she didn’t want to disturb anyone.

He frowned, “Why are you in here?” Donsaii, Emmerit, Garcia, Daster and Kenner were the only people in there. He’d kind of expected a lot of people and a party atmosphere.

“Ah, we decided we didn’t want everyone to be able to see the screens. So far, if folks walk by and see TC3 on the screens, they just think they’re seeing a cloudy Earth or Venus or something. But today, we hope we’ll be seeing things that anyone would recognize came from somewhere else and we don’t want anyone getting freaked out.”

Norris tilted his head in puzzlement, wondering what they thought people might “get freaked out” about, but then excitement took over and he headed around to look at the screens himself. At present all six screens showed unremitting pale gray. “I assume everything’s gray because we’re still in the clouds?”

“Yep,” Donsaii said. She pointed to the screens which were arranged in a row of four with a large one in the middle. There was a lone screen above and another below the row. She pointed to the top one, “View looking up,” she pointed to the bottom one, “down,” and she swept across the middle row, “four cameras pointing each direction.”

Norris had already noticed a reddish orange glow on the side of the bottom image, presumably exhaust from the rocket that was slowing the descent. Suddenly the gray cleared away to show brilliant green everywhere. Immediately the middle row cleared to show green on the bottom of their images and grey on top. A little cheer burst out.

“OK, where do we land?” Donsaii asked.

Roger said, “I think the darker areas are something like trees. Probably problematic landing in them. We should shoot for one of the lighter areas, they’re probably clearings.”

Norris said, “Look at that spot there, it’s light and it looks like it has some kind of rocks sticking up through it to one side there.” His eyebrows rose as he realized that everywhere else was unremitting green. “It’d be good to land near those rocks since it looks like we can’t see rocks anywhere else. After all, we set up the laser in this rocket so it could do spectro on some rocks and that’s the only likely site I see.”

Ell spoke to Allan and the meadow Norris had chosen slowly rose to meet their rocket as they stared in awe at their first view of this new world. The meadow was a ragged oval and had the odd row of rocks or boulders strung partway across it, somewhat nearer to the northern side. Emma said, “Look! On the right screen! Over by the rocks, it looks like smoke!”

Sure enough, there did seem to be some tendrils of smoke rising from just in front of the boulders. Norris wondered what in the world could cause that. If it were volcanic you’d think there would be some lava or something. The rocks were rounded as if they’d been exposed for a long time. They didn’t look like lava. Well, didn’t look like Earth lava anyway.

Emmerit said, “Holy jeez, the atmosphere is dense! We’re registering 695 kPa or about seven times as dense as Earth’s atmosphere! Oh, and it’s 36% oxygen!” He paused, then, “Ah, crap we really couldn’t live there; it’d be like deep sea diving. We’d get oxygen toxicity and nitrogen narcosis.”

Ell laughed, “Roger, I can’t believe you were hoping to go build a house on the first extra-solar planet we visited!”

He put a hand to his chest, “Hey, a young man can dream can’t he?”

Norris wondered how Roger thought he’d get there through a four inch port. Or can they make bigger ports and just haven’t told me—or the rest of the world—about it?

The view rocked a little and settled at a slight cant. Donsaii said, “We’re down.” Norris noticed that the very bottom screen showed something that looked, for all the world, like a blade of grass! As he watched, it curled and blackened.

A loud pop sounded and Manuel stood up suddenly. There was champagne foaming out of a bottle he held out over the cooler he’d pulled it out of. He set the bottle down and passed out some plastic champagne flutes.

While Norris held his flute waiting for some of the champagne he continued staring in wonder at the screens. The meadow was surrounded by what appeared to be a rainforest. Very tall, though skinny tree boles were visible through the forest verge, shooting up to a high canopy with darkness underneath. “Whoa! Look at that huge… bird?” Everyone else’s head snapped back to the screens. He wasn’t seeing feathers. Maybe it was more like a bat?

Emma said, “The wings look way too small, how does it fly?”

Donsaii mused, “Really dense air should help. High oxygen means that its metabolism can run really hot. But that would just help it launch and fly fast. What’s the gravity Allan?”

Allan, Ell’s AI answered the question in all of their earphones, “0.27G.”

Ell said, “Low gravity would make it easier to fly too.” Looking past the large flier she realized that there were lots of small fliers flitting around the meadow on small wings moving so fast they were hard to see.

Emma said, “Wait a minute, if the gravity is so low, why is the atmosphere so dense?”

Norris said, “Gravity doesn’t necessarily correlate with atmospheric density. Venus has about the same gravity as Earth but the atmosphere is 90 times denser. Remember that Tau Ceti has that huge ring of cometary debris. If this planet has been getting pelted with a lot of comets they may well result in more water and atmosphere…” He sipped his champagne as he watched the flyer circling the rocket. He had the impression it was big, though he couldn’t really tell how far away it was. To his surprise it seemed to be flying by gliding on its wings while beating its tail like a dolphin pushes itself through the water, mostly with its tail. It spiraled in closer, then landed nearby on long slender lower limbs like a bird’s. In fact they even seemed to have forward and backward pointing toes with claws like a bird’s feet.

They all stared in awe. It had upper limbs too with… with… claws that were something like bird’s feet but looked very flexible… like hands… and it wore a harness made of leather straps!

***

Syrdian startled Dex by appearing back-up-right in hies back-eyes and whispering, “What is it?”

Dex looked guiltily back-up-right at Syrdian, whom hie’d completely forgotten about. Hie shrugged hies wings and said, “I don’t know. Some strange kind of meteorite, I guess.”

After a long pause Syrdian said quietly, “Where were you going? Before… you know… before the meteorite landed?”

Dex thought about lying. Trying to sugar coat it somehow. But hie was sick of Syrdian’s attitude. Hie shrugged hies wings again and said, “I was leaving. You don’t seem to want—or appreciate—my help.” Hie heard a gasp of indrawn breath back-up-right. Dex rose and took a step closer to the meteorite, then crouched to watch some more. It didn’t seem to be doing anything.

Syrdian whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Dex shrugged hies wings, still intent on the meteorite.

“I… I know I’ve… been rude. And I haven’t even thanked you for what you’ve done for me. I’ve been scared that I’m… dyatso. But I guess I’ll be able to fly with the ‘leatherwork’ you did on my wing… once it stops hurting so bad?” Syrdian paused, and when Dex said nothing, Syrdian finished in a near whisper, “Thank you Dex.”

Dex looked back-up-right at Syrdian. “You’re welcome. But I’m not thinking that the leatherwork will be forever. I’m just hoping that your wing will heal if the gap is held shut. Like wings can heal little rips.”

“Really?” Syrdian said, raising hies right wing and looking at the stitching again. “I’ve never heard of anyone doing that before.”

“Neither have I.”

“Why did you do it then?”

“Didn’t seem like it could make your wing worse.” Dex shrugged a wing. “And if it works, it’ll make your wing a lot better.” Hie took another step closer to the meteorite. Nothing bad had happened yet.

“How long will it take to heal?”

Dex looked back-up-right with widened eyes. “How would I know? I assume about four eight-days, the same as little rips.”

Syrdian’s eyes widened, “But the migration! It’s today!”

Dex blinked, “I know.”

“But how will I go?”

“I don’t think you’ll be able to.”

Syrdian’s eyes were opened wide in full panic mode now. “But the summer heat… I won’t… I won’t live through that.” After a pause, hie continued in a juddery voice, “That’s why Qes called me dyatso isn’t it?” Syrdian slowly sank down until hies chest nearly touched the ground. Hie sobbed softly.

Dex sighed. “I had some ideas about that too. But I don’t know if they’d work or not.” Hie turned back to the meteorite. It was just sitting there. Not even crackling or hissing like the first one hie’d seen come down to land on the ground. Well, the first one had been partly in the ground. Hie thought this one looked… beautiful! Like the finest made object from the very finest craft person. Very symmetrical, and smooth, it seemed polished, with a number of fine glassy beads near the top. Though it still looked brightly infrared at the very bottom, the infrared coloring had faded just above the bottom. Dex wondered if hie could touch it without being harmed.

In a choked voice Syrdian asked, “What are your ideas?”

Dex shrugged hies wings, “They probably wouldn’t work.”

“What are they?” Syrdian asked plaintively.

“Go up the mountain, not south. The higher you go, the cooler it is. I think that a lot of the non-flyers climb up higher in the summer.”

“But it’s hard to fly up there!”

Dex turned to look balefully back-down-right at the crouching Syrdian.

“Oh, right,” Syrdian whispered, “I can’t fly anyway.”

Dex turned back around and stepped another step closer to the meteorite. It continued to sit there, becoming less infrared but otherwise unchanged. Tempted to reach out and touch it, hie decided to wait a little longer in case something bad happened.

Syrdian whispered hoarsely, “I’d have to walk through the forest to get out of this meadow?”

Dex nodded and reached out to touch the meteorite. It felt cool. Nothing happened so hie stroked a finger over it. It felt hard, and smoother that hie could believe. Smoother than a polished stone out of a stream. Smoother than the beak of a great predator. Like the feel of a recently flaked flint surface but without the ripples. Hie gripped it and lifted it off the ground. Hies eyes widened, it was lighter than hie’d expected! Most meteorites that reached the ground were heavier than rock. Some weren’t but they were porous. This one seemed to have holes in it but only a few. Looking at the regular spacing of its features, its smoothness, its symmetry, hie couldn’t help but think that someone had made it. Maybe it was hollow? Could there be a tribe somewhere that could make something like this? Could one of them have dropped it out of the clouds above and even now be watching and laughing as Dex make a fool out of himrself? Hie looked balefully up at the clouds but saw no one flying in and out of the lower layers to watch.

Syrdian querulously asked, “Will you stay with me?”

Dex set down the meteorite and turned hies head to look back over hies shoulder, “Will you carry dried meat?”

“Yes, yes, whatever you say.” Syrdian said eagerly.

“OK.” Dex turned back to the meteorite. “I’ll stay with you.” Hie wanted to take the meteorite with himr but hie wouldn’t want to have to hold it in a hand all the time. Hie tried to think how hie could attach it to hies harness. “Let’s start up the mountain. You get the staves and the rest of the dried meat. I’ll meet you at the verge.” Dex beat up into the air carrying the meteorite in one hand.

“Wait!” Syrdian plaintively called behind himr but Dex ignored the cry, reaching height and coasting to the verge, beating gently with hies hind wings while carefully examining the verge for large splotches of infrared.

***

Norris stared in awe at the creature. It appeared to be staring back at him out of the screen. Actually he had an impression of its eyes moving up and down and around as if it were examining the entire rocket. He assumed they were eyes anyway. Shiny, smooth and yellow with a black pupil, mounted in a pair on the head. A head that was too small to hold much of a brain, even though the creature’s approach and harness suggested intelligence. He wondered briefly if their nervous tissue was more efficient than Earth animals, allowing intelligence even with a smaller brain? The eyes seemed to be closer to the bottom of the head than the top and it looked like there might be a cleft above the eyes, as if there was a mouth located above the eyes. No nostrils though, only the cleft and the eyes. Covered with fine golden brown fur, or something like fur, the creature looked… pretty, graceful, and… dangerous. He thought it stood about twice as tall as the three foot rocket.

Another creature, apparently the same type as the first one, but walking not flying, approached from behind the one examining the rocket. Its coloration seemed more silvery yellow as opposed to the golden brown of the first one. Friendly? Or coming up from behind to attack? Norris saw that the second one also had a harness, though its leatherwork appeared to be much simpler than the harness on the first one.

The golden one’s head turned to look at the silvery one. When its head turned Norris was astonished to see more eyes on the back of the head. Smaller and wider set, the posterior eyes looked somehow less important than the main ones. He realized they must be either nonfunctional or have less acuity or the golden alien wouldn’t have turned its head to look at the silver one with its frontal eyes. Behind the front eyes and in front of the back eyes were little trumpet shaped holes, the front ones facing forward and the back ones backwards. He immediately thought of them as ears though he was trying to resist the temptation to assign familiar functions that belonged to earth organisms.

Norris looked at the others who were all gawping at the screens as well.

Emma said, “Do you get the impression they’re communicating with each other?”

Norris said, “Yeah, they keep looking at one another then back at the rocket.”

The creature moved closer to the rocket again. Roger said, “How are they communicating? Their mouths aren’t moving and they aren’t making any sound.”

Ell laughed, “We didn’t put a microphone in the rocket. They could be speaking English for all we know.”

Roger snorted, “Duh. You’re right. Well, we should be able to use reflections off the laser window to pick up acoustic vibrations like the spies do.”

“Good idea, any ideas on where we’d go to pick one up?

Emma said, “Hey, I’m the instrument lady, remember? I’ll get one ordered in a minute, just let me watch a little longer.”

Norris said, “Don’t forget they might communicate with something other than audio?”

Ell said, “They don’t seem to be making signs. I don’t see any visual changes in their surfaces, they aren’t emitting light. I’m not sure what other physical methods they might communicate with? You aren’t thinking telepathy, are you?”

“Radio? PGR?”

Ell chortled, “Hah! PGR—in my face! Though it’s hard to imagine using PGR for organism to organism communication since it would only hook you up with one other organism.”

Norris smiled at her, “Maybe they all come from a queen creature that has entangled PGR communication to each of her subsidiary units?”

Ell grinned, “Hah! In my face again. OK, I’ll grant your point but I’m betting on plain old audio received through those holes between the front and back eyes.”

Norris grinned back, “And I’m betting with you, but I just don’t want us to anthropomorphize and miss something important.”

The golden one, which had moved closer, reached out and touched the rocket, causing their view to vibrate and tilt a little. Its eyes approached, presumably for a closer inspection. Then it turned its head back toward the silver one a moment. Then its wings extended and with a few beats it was airborne, taking their rocket with it! Ell snorted, “I was just wondering whether we’d be able to have the rocket follow this creature when it left the area. Not an issue, eh?”

The group laughed with her. Emma said, “We’ve got to give them names to tell them apart when we’re talking about them. I’m suggesting ‘Goldy’ for this one and ‘Silver’ for the other one?”

“OK, where are they, or ‘we’ going?”

They all watched in fascination as Goldy, carrying their rocket and their point of view, flared in to a landing at the forest verge.

***

At the verge, Dex puffed hies lips for the scent of predator while pulling a pair of hies carrying straps off hies harness.

When hie felt fairly certain it was safe hie set the meteorite down and cut a small branch off a limb. The end of it fit into one of the holes in the meteorite and Dex tied it to the carrying strap, then around the shaft of the meteorite. Hie did the same thing at the other end, then tied the two straps to hies harness so that the meteorite laid along the right side of hies chest. One of the legs at the bottom dug into hies abdomen. Hie tugged at the leg wondering how to keep it from irritating himr. To hies amazement all the legs suddenly retracted down against the meteorite! Hie moved around, it felt fine now.

“What are you doing with the meteorite?” Syrdian asked coming up behind-left himr.

“Taking it with me. I’ve always liked meteorites.”

“Why?”

Dex shrugged hies wings and stepped through the verge into the forest. Hies backeyes showed Syrdian following. In a few paces the underbrush thinned out for lack of light because of the thick canopy high overhead. Dex stopped and looked around once again for any large infrared objects that might be predators. Hie puffed hies lips to smell as well. It seemed clear and so hie led the way uneasily up the mountain. Hie didn’t like being in a situation where hie couldn’t fly to safety.

“What are we going to eat?” Syrdian asked.

Irritably Dex said, “I hope you’re working on figuring that out.”

“Figuring it out? How?”

“How do you think anything ever gets figured out? Somebody thinks about it and tries to come up with a solution. You have been hunting and gathering haven’t you?”

“Elders have always shown me how to do things Dex” Syrdian said quietly. “I have been hunting and gathering, yes, but never without flying.”

“Well it’s not as bad as it could be, I can fly. But I might not be able to catch enough food for both of us. I can scout. I can catch some of it. But what if something happens to me?”

“Like you decide not to stay with me?” Syrdian almost whispered.

Dex stopped and turned. “No! We’re walking through the forest. I could be attacked and killed.” Hie took a deep breath, “I’m planning to stay with you Syrdian, but you know everyone else in the tribe would leave you rather than risk their own lives by not migrating. They wouldn’t even walk through the forest with you.”

Syrdian hung hies head, “I know. I know and I’m scared. I wouldn’t have stayed with you and I’m ashamed.” Hie raised hies head, “I’m grateful, I really am. I hope that someday I can repay you somehow.”

Despite hies recent recognition of Syrdian’s selfishness, Dex had to resist the urge to wrap arms and wings around the still beautiful Syrdian. “Well for now, try being quiet so we’ll have a chance of hearing predators. And keep watch for large infrared objects and puff for predator’s scent.”

Obediently Syrdian pursed lips to pull air into hies mouth over the olfactory patches inside hies lips, turning hies head to look around.

Dex stepped out again, heading uphill and wondering how hie’d let himrself promise Syrdian that hie’d stay.

Dex had wearied of the long walk uphill through the unending dimness of the forest. The constant flittering about of the small forest fliers irritated himr. A couple of small territorial flitters had attacked himr and one had attacked Syrdian. They couldn’t do a lot of harm but trying to bat them away frustrated himr. Hie mused on how hard it was to walk up this hill compared to the easy glide down over it yesterday. Suddenly Syrdian hissed, “Dex! I smell a predator!”

Dex looked around and saw a large infrared spot to hies right. Hie strained to see something besides the ill-defined infrared blob. Reaching back hie whispered back, “Give me two of the staves.”

Syrdian handed two of the staves with their fire hardened points over and held the points of the other two staves toward the animal himrself. They stood waiting and wondering. After a few minutes the infrared blob moved closer, passing near a small shaft of sunlight. Dex thought it looked like a zornic, a medium sized forest omnivore. It was bigger than hie and Syrdian together and doubtless would eat them if it could, but maybe… Dex raised himrself to full height and spread hies wings, whispering to Syrdian, “Lift your wings, make yourself big!”

The zornic stopped, then slowly backed away.

As the zornic faded out of sight, Dex turned and began trudging up the mountain again. Syrdian whispered excitedly, “That was amazing! How did you know it would back away if you lifted your wings?”

“I think it was a zornic, they never leave the forest, eating carrion and plants and occasionally killing something. But, I wondered if, always living in the forest, its regular vision might not be very good and it might mostly see infrared. And it wouldn’t have seen many winged animals or know that we weren’t really as big as our wings make us look. I’m supposing it thought a really big animal had just stood up and might eat it so it took off.”

***

The group watched the view from the rocket’s camera zoom up to the edge of the forest and stop, presumably as Goldy landed. The view wiggled a little then stabilized at a slight tilt. Goldy stepped past their viewpoint and grabbed a small branch. Pulling out a wicked looking knife it cut a piece a couple of inches long off of it. Norris said, “Is that a flint knife?” It had a rippled surface but none of them knew for sure what a flint knife looked like. Goldy came back to the rocket and wiggled the rocket a little as it worked on it, just below the camera they were watching through.

Ell said, “I think it’s shoving that stick into one of the attitude thrusters! Why in the world...?”

In a moment Goldy brought a strap into view and seemed to be working with it, this time leaning close as if wrapping the leather strap around the rocket. Again, he was working just below the view of the camera. Then Goldy crouched out of view with another piece of stick and another strap in his hands. More wiggling ensued.

Norris turned to the others, “Do you suppose he’s plugging one of the lower attitude jets too, and tying the plugs in place with the leather straps? If so why?”

Manuel said, “Maybe he’s…”

“Yeah?”

“Uh, I’m not sure? Maybe he’s attaching a carry strap?” A moment later Goldy stood and lifted the rocket up to his chest as evidenced by one of the screens showing nothing but a close up view of a fuzzy chest. Goldy’s hand could be seen working around the rocket, blocking first one then another of the cameras as it moved. The bottom camera which had shown the ground now was up in the air showing Goldy’s birdlike feet. Manuel said, “Maybe just using the attitude thrusters as convenient attachment points for strapping the rocket to his harness.”

No one said anything because Manuel was obviously correct, but the screens kept wiggling back and forth. Emma said, “I’ll bet she can’t get it comfortable because the legs are digging into her tummy.”

Ell said, “Retract the legs.” A moment later the wiggling stopped.

Roger said, “She? Are you seeing sexual characteristics that I’m missing?”

Emma elbowed him, “No, but you guys are calling her a ‘he’ which I see no evidence of either. So I’m calling her a ‘she’ until we know. They may not even have sexes!”

Grinning, Roger rolled his eyes but said nothing. Their view moved forward into the forest. The view darkened and then brightened up as the AI compensated though some of the contrast was lost in the low lighting condition.

A long period of walking through the forest followed. Shortly it got boring. “Why are they walking instead of flying?” Roger asked.

Norris said, “Maybe there’s something in the forest that they want and they can’t fly to it through the trees?”

“I don’t know, the boles of those trees are pretty far apart and their wings are pretty short.”

Norris shrugged, “I really have no idea. Maybe their flying agility isn’t up to weaving around all the trees?

As the hike settled down to walking uphill and nothing else Emma went off to work on a laser acoustic pickup for the rocket. Ell turned to the others, “This is exciting but it’s also kind of boring. I’m thinking that at most we should have one of us watching and telling the rest of us if something exciting happens?” She looked around at the others who all nodded. “I don’t mind taking the graveyard shift from midnight to 6.”

Norris laughed and said, “Sad to say, I’m an early to bed, early to rise person. I’m always up at 4AM. I don’t have a class until 8 so it’d be easy for me to do 4-7:30.”

Roger said, “Why do we have to watch in real time? Why not just record the video. Then cruise through it at high speed later looking for the interesting parts?”

“What happens if Goldy starts to take the rocket apart?

“How would we stop him?”

“Fire up the engine, fly away if necessary?”

Emma signed up for 6 to 10PM so Ell took 10PM to 4AM. Wilson, Manuel and Roger all wanted to take shifts but Manuel was worried about how to handle a shift when he might be urgently needed to make things in the machine shop. Roger had to work around meetings with Bynewicz and Mullis. “But maybe Wilson, Manuel and I could work things out between us to cover the daytime hours each day?”

Wilson said, “My other assignments can be worked whenever I’m not busy with this, so I’ll take the daytime observation whenever you two can’t be available. When you guys can observe I’ll do my other work.”

Ell said, “We need to bring someone else in on this. Our group is kinda small for something this huge?”

Norris said, “How about hiring a student? Bridget’s friend Belle Donovan from my Planetary Science class is astonishingly smart. She’s killing all the tests and really enthusiastic about this kind of stuff. Students are usually pretty excited to have jobs where they don’t have to do much. Would you like me to ask her? Or you could get Bridget to ask her?” He looked back and forth. Roger and Emma were grinning at Ell who looked embarrassed. Manuel looked as puzzled as Norris felt. “What?”

Ell looked down at the floor and blushed, “Sorry Dr. Norris, but I need you to keep another secret for me. I am ‘Belle.’ I wanted to take your class but it causes a lot of problems when I go to public places like the campus as ‘Ell.’” She shrugged, “So I wear a disguise.”

Dumbfounded, Norris stared at Donsaii, trying to reconcile Belle’s long platinum blond hair, chipmunk cheeks, acne and thick hips with the beautiful young woman in front of him. Despite her flaws Belle was cute, but compared to Ell… He’d never seen anyone who could hold a candle to Ell, stunning no matter what she wore. Why would anyone disguise themselves that way? He looked at the grinning Roger and Emma, “Are you guys kidding me?”

Emma laughed, “Nope. Believe it or not, that’s really her.”

Flummoxed, Norris leaned back and gave way to a guffaw.

Ell cleared her throat, “But if you have any other students you think we could trust, we’d be happy to hire them. Meantime, how about if we start designing a followup rocket, like this one but with a microphone and speaker? A swiveling camera? Maybe some other means for communication?”

The team worked on a plan for the new rocket as the aliens, or “Teecees” as they had begun calling them, clambered through the forest for hours. They stopped to watch for a few minutes when Goldy and Silver stopped and confronted a large wingless animal with their pointed sticks. The animal walked on four limbs. Coming off its back in a location that seemed somewhat analogous to Goldy and Silver’s wings there were two large limbs that reminded Norris of a gorilla’s arms. Goldy and Silver stood tall and lifted their wings and the animal stopped, then turned and ambled away.

They worked out most of the requirements for the new rocket but decided to finalize the actual plan when Emma had picked some of the actual components. Satisfied, they shut down the screens in the conference room and headed home. Emma started her shift watching the aliens’ progress on her HUD but when she got home she put it up on her big screen.

***

A couple deks later Dex and Syrdian climbed down into one of the ravines and drank their fill of water then filled their water skins.  As they climbed back onto the ridge they were following up the mountain they came to an enormous meadow. Dex distantly remembered the fire that had cleared this area. The huge area had some small trees clumping up in a few areas but the grasses and other small meadow plants were still holding their own over most of it. Hie turned to Syrdian, “I think we should stay in that clump of little trees near the high end. Can you clear a spot and start a fire?”

Syrdian narrowed hies eyes, “What are you going to do?”

“Try to catch some food.”

“Oh, OK. Yes. Thanks.”

Dex beat into the air gratefully, tired of walking. Hie lifted along the tree line and once hie had altitude, curled out in a glide over the meadow, watching carefully for prey animals or food plants. Hie saw a patch of large flat leaves that hie thought signaled tubers and almost missed the burrower sitting near them, facing the other way. With a curl of hies left main wing and a flip of hies back wings hie stooped on the burrower, reaching out at the last moment for it. It saw himr coming with its weak back eyes and darted for its burrow. Dex banked hard and stretched out hies left hindclaw, touching but not catching it.

Landing, Dex stepped over to the burrow pulling out hies roll of heavy fiberlin. A pace away hie found some of the burrower’s scat to rub on hies hands and the fiberlin. Hie placed a noose of fiberlin around the inside of the burrow a few inches down inside. Then hie tied it to a hooked stick hie cut off a branching stem. More fiberlin connected the hook-trigger to a sapling hie bent. Hie hooked the trigger stick on the rock at the edge of the burrow so the tip of the stick obstructed the hole. When the burrower came out and bumped the stick aside, the bent sapling would snap up, pulling the noose tight. Unfortunately the burrower might get itself free if Dex didn’t get there in time so hie’d have to listen for it. Dex then dug a couple of disappointing tubers up from the plants hie’d seen.

Sighing in disappointment hie beat into the air and over to Syrdian who was clearing a spot under five small trees for a fire. Syrdian looked askance at the tubers, “From the way you stooped I thought you’d gone after an animal we could eat.”

“I did.” Hie shrugged hies wings, “I missed. These are better than nothing.”

For a moment Dex thought that Syrdian would to turn hies nose up at the tubers but instead hie said, “Do you want me to cook them?”

“That’d be great! I set a trap. I’m going to go watch it.” Hie untied the meteorite from hies harness and leaned it up against one of the trees. A couple beats lofted himr into a glide down to the burrow. Just before hie landed hie thought better of it and after coasting past the burrow hie beat up into the air to circle high over the burrow, examining the surrounding terrain for any other possibilities. Hie saw a couple of other burrows though the burrowers themselves weren’t evident. After checking the one with the snare hie coasted down to the next burrow. This one didn’t have any rock to hook the trigger on so hie had to cut and drive a stake to hook the trigger on. Then, in frustration, hie realized that hie didn’t have enough fiberlin to reach the closest sapling. Looking around hie saw a worn path from the burrow running beneath the sapling. Hie cut a notch for hies trigger hook near the bottom of the sapling, bent the sapling, hooked the trigger and ran the noose from there to drape over the path.  Then hie beat up into the air and over to Syrdian, pleased to see a small fire burning with the tubers spitted over it.

Syrdian said, “I thought you were going to watch your trap?”

“I set another one. I think we’ll be able to see and hear them go off from here. I’m really hungry, how about you?”

“Yeah, I could even eat some talor.”

Dex looked sharply at Syrdian and saw himr grinning ruefully, “Me too.”

Syrdian said, “I’m afraid to ask, but why don’t you fly back to the cave? I think my parents would come for me. Then you wouldn’t have to do this.”

Dex looked off into the distance, “And what if they told me that you’re dyatso? What if they won’t let me come back?”

Syrdian’s hearts hammered, “But, but my parents… wouldn’t…”

“Don’t be too sure. You know the tribe’s policy. ‘If you can’t fly the migration, you’re dyatso. You must fend for yourself.’”

Wings quivering Syrdian said, “But…”

“Besides, don’t you think it would be easier for them… if they think you died cleanly at the beak of a talor… than if they had to come visit you dyatso… then fly away leaving you here? They have responsibilities to your smaller siblings so they couldn’t stay with you even if they would give their own lives for you.”

After a long pause Syrdian said, “Dex, I’m embarrassed to ask, but who are your parents?”

Embarrassed Dex shrugged hies wings, “Deltain and Genex.”

“Oh, I know of Deltain. Hies leatherwork is famous, that must be where you learned.” Syrdian looked meaningfully at Dex’s elegant harness.

Dex thought it was polite of Syrdian not to mention the embarrassing Genex. Handsome and artistic when young, Genex became addicted to fermented tubers and died many seasons ago. Deltain never told Dex what had happened but Genex hadn’t died well. Genex’s poor standing had dragged Deltain’s and their child’s status down and was to a significant degree responsible for Dex only being able to admire Syrdian from afar. Hie looked up at Syrdian, “Thanks, hie did teach me my leatherwork. I hope someday to be half as good as hie is.” Dex’s head snapped around at a flicker and a “twoosh” sound behind himr. The motion hies back eyes had seen was the farthest of the bent saplings snapping upright. Dex beat into the air and coasted down to it. Seeing a burrower struggling in the noose hie pulled out hies knife. A quick stab down into the brain at the base of the neck ended its struggles. Hie loosened hies noose from under two front limbs, carefully wrapping the heavy fiberlin back on the stick from hies harness pouch.

***

Emma watched in astonishment as Goldy and Silver broke out of the trees into a clearing. She had the distinct feeling that they were much happier in the open than they had been in the forest. With a few vigorous wing beats Goldy rose into the air though in the side camera Emma saw Silver continuing to walk out into the middle of the clearing. Once Goldy had achieved level flight Emma began watching the nose camera of the rocket which faced the direction they were traveling. Occasionally her gaze flickered to the camera that had been facing forward as Goldy walked and which now faced down at the ground. Emma didn’t see the cause of Goldy’s dive until the last moment when she saw the small animal diving into its burrow.

Emma sent out an email message to the group, “Check attached video, Goldy hunting from air.” Shortly she sent out another email, “Check attached video, Goldy building a snare!”

Emma’s eyes widened as she realized that Silver had built a fire, then to her bemusement Goldy detached the rocket from her chest and leaned it up against a small tree. One side’s camera showed the tree’s bark, as did the nose camera. The side camera opposite the tree showed mostly sky. One camera faced up the mountain. The last camera showed a small cleared area with the fire burning on one side of the image. Some lumpy things like ugly potatoes hung over the fire on sticks. But nothing was happening in the view. Emma considered extending the legs and using the attitude jets to set the camera back up and turn it around to get a better view. But she worried that if it frightened Goldy and Silver away it would be a tremendous loss. Emma settled in to do some reading while waiting for something else to happen.

Quite a while passed, then a brown object landed in the cleared area in front of the fire. Therefore it lay in the view of the camera facing that way and Emma narrowed her eyes examining it. It wasn’t in the center of the picture but pretty close. Emma had zoomed all the way out to try to see something interesting at the periphery of the picture. Now she zoomed in on what appeared to be a small dead animal. She was pretty sure that it was either the animal that Goldy had stooped on earlier or a similar animal. Since it had escaped into a hole in the ground Emma thought it must be a burrowing animal like a rabbit. It appeared to have eight limbs. Four smaller ones that came off one side and four larger ones that came off the other side and reached around to the same side as the small legs. Goldy stepped into the picture and pushed it with a foot so it rolled, then stepped away. Suddenly it made sense. The four smaller legs were on the bottom now. The bigger legs came off the top of the animal, reminding her of a spider’s legs. The big legs were long enough to reach the ground on the bottom side as well. The big legs, like those of the large animal in the forest had something like claws on them. The modified claws looked like they could also be used for something else, though Emma wasn’t sure what.

Goldy reappeared, pulled out its knife, crouched and began cutting the burrower up. The skin peeled off with a few quick strokes of the knife, pulling up over the head like a shirt. The skin and the head were then chopped off. Then instead of making a longitudinal slice into a body cavity like Emma had seen her Dad do on fish, Goldy cut the neck off the body then cut transversely through the burrower just behind the front limbs. Goldy seemed to pause to break something bony at the back and the front before cutting the rest of the way around to separate the burrower into a front and back half. Then Goldy cut through the body exposing a cavity that she quickly pulled organ and intestine looking things out of, casting most of them aside but keeping a few solid looking chunks. The limbs were twisted and cut loose. All the pieces were spitted on a stick and hung over the fire.

Emma had her AI send another email, “Check attached video, caught a burrower, cut it up. Cooking it!!”

***

Darkness had fallen by the time Dex and Syrdian tore into the burrower and tuber. It tasted great! Dex wondered if it was due to the old saying about how everything tasted better if you’d hunted it yourself. Or perhaps just because walking all day had left himr so hungry? Hie eyed Syrdian who looked back at himr and said, “This is really good Dex. You’re a great cook!”

Deeply affected by the praise, Dex shrugged hies wings, “I think it’s just ‘cause we’re hungry, but thanks. The tubers are done just right too.” Hie cocked hies neck, “I’m glad we didn’t have to eat dried talor.”

Syrdian ducked hies head. “Dried talor wouldn’t be that bad.”

Dex snorted, “Yes it would! But we’ll eat it before we starve and be grateful of it.” Hie found himrself very pleased with Syrdian’s changed attitude. “We should collect some more firewood so we can keep our fire burning all night.”

Syrdian said, “I already got some while you were cooking. Would you show me how your snares work? In case… in… if…”

Dex rescued himr, “In case I need help later?”

Syrdian shrugged hies wings in embarrassment, “Sure.”

During the night another twoosh sound signaled the triggering of hies second snare. Sure enough when hie looked that way Dex could see the infrared shadow of a burrower struggling in the air beneath the first sapling hie’d attached a snare to. Dex started to get up but Syrdian said, “I’ll get it.”

Dex settled back down by the fire, somewhat amazed at the turn around. Syrdian had really begun to contribute. “Bring back the fiberlin,” hie called out.

“I will.”

***

Deltain landed on the ledge back at the cave, hearts heavy. Hies wings sagged as hie walked back to hies leatherworking area. Someone was there and hies hearts lifted momentarily before hie recognized it wasn’t Dex. Still, it might be someone with news of Dex. Then hie saw it was Ercole, one of Syrdian’s parents. “Hello.”

Ercole drew himrself up, “Your child Dex. The other youth tell me hie watches Syrdian… a lot.”

Deltain shrugged hies wings, “Could be, Syrdian is very beautiful. I don’t know.”

“Syrdian didn’t come back yesterday or today.”

“I know.”

“We think that Dex might have had something to do with it.”

Deltain tilted hies head curiously, “How would hie have, ‘had something to do with it’?”

Ercole’s eyes narrowed, “One of the children saw himr leave the cave just after Syrdian did yesterday.”

“So?”

“So, where did they go?”

“I don’t know! I just spent the day searching for Dex. Hie hasn’t returned either!”  Deltain tilted hies head questioningly, “You think they’re together just because they left at about the same time? Why aren’t you asking Qes? Qes and Syrdian have been spending a lot of time together.”

“Qes never saw Syrdian yesterday.”

Deltain’s head lifted and went back signaling some disbelief, “You got that from himr?”

“Qes wouldn’t lie.”

“I hope you’re right.”

***

Ell took over watching events on TC3from Emma at 10PM. Once night had fallen and the Teecees had settled down to sleep by the fire she just kept an occasional eye on the screen with Allan monitoring to tell her if anything happened. Meanwhile, she opened Emma’s files of the breaking of the burrower’s carcass, trying to understand what each of the structures Goldy exposed might be. The preparation of the burrower had some elements in common with a dissection, though the handling of the internal organs left a lot to be desired. Still, Ell had only a modicum of familiarity with the anatomy of Earth’s animals from her biology class. They’d dissected a frog and studied a little comparative anatomy but she felt lost trying to compare what little she knew to what she saw on the video. Still she felt like what she was seeing seemed surprisingly like what she knew of Earth’s animals. She wondered if it could be because, like Norris had mentioned, these animals might spring from DNA? That reminded her that they hadn’t yet taken their biologic sample for DNA analysis.

Ell boosted the low light function of the rocket’s cameras. Some leaves of the tree it leaned on were pretty close to the rocket. A bright light streaked across the screen that carried the view from the camera facing up at the sky. There must be a big break in the clouds because she could see stars. Tilting her head, she watched both cameras that had sky on them for several minutes. During that brief period she saw several meteors streak across the sky. She thought, this planet is getting pelted with a lot more space junk than Earth.

She looked again at the sleeping flyers who appeared to be out cold. Speaking to Allan she said, “Open the door over the rocket’s arm.”

The field of the camera didn’t show the door but Allan said, “It’s open.”

Ell looked at the Teecees. They hadn’t moved. Still keeping an eye on the Teecees, she said, “Bring the arm out.” Still no reaction from the Teecees, so Ell directed the arm out to grasp a leaf and bring it back, putting it in the DNA testing compartment. “How long will the DNA test reaction take?”

Allan said, “Thirty minutes.”

Ell went back to looking at the burrower “dissection” as she had begun thinking of it, watching parts in slow motion and trying to parse the structures she saw. We really need an expert, she thought.

Chapter Four

Harald Wheat walked back to his office from teaching his class on comparative anatomy. He’d been thinking about something else and almost gone to his old office. NCSU had certainly changed since someone had anonymously donated millions over the past couple of years. The biggest part of the money was being spent in Physics, but Biology had a new building and salaries were up. The department had obtained some equipment that he’d been lobbying after for years. Everyone’s enthusiasm was up and Harald’s mood had improved. Sara, the admin for the professors in his pod in the new building, looked up and gave him a weird look, “Dr. Wheat, your appointment is waiting in your office.”

Wheat grimaced; he must have forgotten an appointment. He stopped and looked up at his HUD, asking his AI for his calendar. “Raquel Blandon,” worked for some commercial company out in the Triangle. Interested in “consulting” services. Oh, the appointment had just been made this morning, and he hadn’t checked his calendar until now. He frowned, his experience with firms that asked for “consulting” hadn’t been good. They frequently assumed he’d be happy to consult for free and even worse seemed to believe that if they paid, he’d be willing to whitewash some environmentally unsound project they were undertaking.

He walked over to Sara and said in a low voice, “How’d this woman get on my calendar? You remember that I don’t want to talk to commercial people unless they’ve agreed to pay full fare for consulting?”

Sara looked at him with a twinkle in her eye. “I tried to tell her you wouldn’t agree to it until I’d talked to you. She agreed to pay double the usual consulting fee if I got her in this morning. I told her I’d put her on but that you might still refuse… I think you’ll be sorry if you don’t talk to her though.” She raised an eyebrow, “Would you rather I threw her out?”

He rolled his eyes. “No. I’ll talk to her, but I’ll bet you I’ll be tossing her out.”

Sara’s eyes twinkled, “I’ll take that bet. Lunch?”

Harald tilted his head in surprise, “You’re that confident? OK, you’re on.”

Bemused he headed on over to his office. Stepping in he saw a pretty girl in cutoffs and a t-shirt. She looks like a student, not like some corporate drone from out in the triangle. “Hello Ms. Blandon,” he said, sitting down and turning to face her…

Ell Donsaii!!

“Hello Dr. Wheat,” Ell said, taking in his startled look. “Sorry to have scheduled this appointment under a pseudonym, but it can cause issues if I make appointments under my real name.”

“Uh… I suppose it could. Not a problem.” He grinned, thinking to himself that Sara had already won her lunch and he hadn’t even started talking about the “consultation” yet. He winked at her, “Thanks for saving my planet!”

“Um, you’re welcome. I’ll relay your thanks to the folks at D5R that did the real work.”

“OK, but I think no amount of real work would have solved that problem without a certain 5 dimensional theory?”

She blushed, “Thank you sir,” she said quietly, “though it does feel like I just got lucky coming up with that theory.”

He chuckled and said, “Well, I feel lucky to be able to help you. What can I do?”

“We, at D5R, have need of someone with your expertise on a fairly urgent basis. We’d be happy to continue paying twice your standard consultation fee if you can look things over for us immediately?”

“Sure, though I probably owe you some free consultation for saving my life. Tell me what this is about?”

“Um, yes sir. We’d need for you to sign a non-disclosure agreement first?”

Wheat narrowed his eyes. “OK, send it to me, but it would have to be time limited. I won’t have my academic freedom restricted.”

“No problem, it should be on your AI now.”

“Give me a minute to read through it? Or would you rather come back another time after I’ve read it? Or I could come to you out in the Triangle?”

“No sir, go ahead. I’ve got some work I can do on my HUD while I wait.”

Wheat settled back to read, bemused to find that Ell Donsaii was waiting for him. And calling him sir! Even though her field was physics instead of biology, in his opinion she was without a doubt, the most important scientist in the world. And the person who saved his, and everyone else’s life a few months back when comet Hearth-Daster came calling. He would have been absolutely delighted and considered it a privilege to go to her office and wait on her convenience! He stole a glance at her, and she’s just a kid! A beautiful young woman, yes, but just a kid!

Wheat looked back at his HUD. This NDA seemed pretty reasonable. It only required that he not talk about his findings for two years unless D5R agreed to earlier release. Any papers prepared regarding the findings couldn’t be submitted for two years unless D5R agreed. His eyes narrowed and he cleared his throat. When Donsaii looked at him questioningly he said, “You realize that if my finding is that your company is doing something illegal or damaging to the environment or endangered species, that this agreement would not bind me against disclosure to proper governmental authorities?”

She looked surprised for a moment, then said only, “Yes sir.”

“Well then, I can agree to this. Do you want me to print and sign?”

“No sir, my AI has recorded your agreement. That is sufficient for us. I assume that your AI has made a copy for you?”

“Yes, and the AI record is fine by me too. You really should stop calling me ‘sir,’ Ms. Donsaii.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t feel right about that, Dr. Wheat.”

Wheat rolled his eyes, thinking that he owed her more respect than she owed him. She had a Nobel Prize, after all. He shrugged, “OK, what is it you want me to do? Some strange animals on your property or something?”

Donsaii smiled enigmatically, “I’d like you to watch some video with me. Can I close your door?”

Wheat nodded and noted with some surprise that she made the simple act of rising to shut the door into a remarkably graceful physical act. Gazing at the closed door with a far away look in his eyes he tried to understand just what there was about the way she’d moved that so entranced him. He’d watched animals in motion for much of his life and her flowing movement seemed better than “catlike.” He felt pretty sure it wasn’t just her attractiveness, instead it was something about the way she moved, more confidently, smoothly and elegantly than anyone else could. No wasted motion, simple smooth perfection. He shrugged mentally, no wonder she’d won those gold medals at the Olympics. She interrupted his woolgathering, “Dr. Wheat?”

“Um, yes?”

“Is it OK if I put it up on your big screen?”

“Sure.” He turned to face the screen as an animal was tossed to the ground in the center of the picture. At first offended at the callous treatment, then dismayed to realize that it had just been killed, then feeling the hair stand up on the back of his neck. It has eight limbs! And that is no arthropod! Fur? How big is it? Floppy neck. No tail. This was a completely unknown animal! It didn’t even fit into any known phyla! My God… and someone had just killed it! With dismay he considered the horrifying possibility that this might have been the only remaining living specimen. The large upper arms have horny looking tips that might be adapted for fighting? Or digging? What if this species has been living underground and simply hidden from modern observation all this time? Please, please don’t let this have been the only one?! He turned to confront Donsaii but then a large clawed foot appeared and rolled it over. Could this thing be tiny, filmed with macro lenses? And the clawed foot is on some kind of bird? If so the video must have been slowed down because, in the world of the small, things happened much faster than what he was seeing on the screen.

Wheat’s eyes narrowed. The animal appeared to have been rolled onto its stomach, four smaller limbs below. The larger limbs seemed to come off the upper part of the animal. The front pair of the upper limbs at present dangled down to the ground. Did they normally reach the ground and assist with locomotion? Or did they serve some other purpose and were just dangling to the ground in the flaccidity of death? Limbs on the top, i.e. wings, and limbs on the bottom, i.e. legs, was a common body plan in Insecta but this animal didn’t look like it had an exoskeleton and only had four, not six, limbs on the bottom! At first he’d thought that it had a flexible snout like an elephant, but the end of that snout seemed to have eyes on it? Could that be a head?

The clawed feet reappeared. Looking like bird feet except with a fuzzy covering rather than feathers. Then another pair of fuzzy skinned limbs appeared from above, holding a primitive knife! “Hah!” Wheat sat back, suddenly enlightened. “That’s some very good CGI. You had me completely fooled for a minute or two.” He frowned, “So what are you doing in the movie business?” They want me to consult on some kind of sci-fi movie? It’s comforting to know that someone in the movie business is trying to get the science right! He looked at Donsaii expectantly.

She had paused the video and now turned to look at him quizzically, head turned to the side. Her smile began as a little quirk of the lip, then spread across her delicate features, stopping just short of when he thought she’d begin laughing. She looked positively delighted. “How about if I get you to watch the rest of this clip, then I’ll show you a few others? Then we’ll talk about how I got into the ‘movie business’?”

Donsaii still looked like she was suppressing a laugh, but Wheat turned to the screen again raising an eyebrow. On the screen the skin was deftly removed with a few strokes of the (flint?) knife, peeling it up like taking off a t-shirt.

The detail here is amazing! Wheat thought to himself. For a small throw away part of the movie, one that doubtless contributes little to the main storyline, they’ve invested heavily in making this look right! Wheat’s respect for the filmmakers rose immensely. He’d been impressed that they wanted his scientific help, but what they’d already done showed amazing attention to detail.

The knife then went back to peel the skin off of the limbs. Then it made a transverse cut the body of the animal just behind the front limbs.

The head of the dissector dipped into the view! Wheat leaned forward in amazement. Rather than creating an inexplicably different creature, like an amateur might have, the filmmakers had put the head of the dissector on a prehensile neck also. It also had four eyes, like the animal it was cutting up! They had designed this animal like it was a distant relative of the one it was cutting up, like one would actually expect on an alien world with evolution doing its thing. So many filmmakers would have thought it “more interesting” to have some completely different types of aliens cutting each other up in their movie, no matter how unlikely it would be to find bizarrely different body structures on the same planet. But, these two did look like they could have evolved from the same ancestor.

The alien paused to break something bony at the back and the front of the animal before cutting the rest of the way around to separate the animal into a front and back half. Then it cut the rest of the way through the body, exposing a cavity that it quickly pulled organs and intestine looking things out of, casting most of them aside, but keeping a few solid looking chunks. This was done so quickly that Wheat suspected the animator hadn’t wanted to spend time showing each of the organs and trying to make them appear realistic. The limbs were twisted and cut loose from the body. Then all the pieces, neck, eight limbs and two body parts were spitted on a stick and hung over the fire.

Putting the spit over the fire the entire alien finally came into view. Wheat’s shoulders sagged a little in disappointment. The moviemakers had decided to give wings to their alien but had made them far too small for them to be useful for flight in such a large animal. He tilted his head, unless of course these are small animals seen greatly magnified. Insects fly with small wings because they’re tiny. He shrugged to himself, but then it’s ridiculous to imagine that a tiny animal like that could be intelligent. Well, and look at the tiny size of the head on that thing. It couldn’t have enough brain in that little cranium to be intelligent, even if it was full size. Wheat quirked his mouth, the fire’s wrong too. Look how energetically it’s burning with just a little wood. They must have added accelerant to it for it to burn that bright. Or it could be a CGI fire too, I suppose. He felt disappointed that they’d gotten these things wrong after doing such an amazing job with the little alien animal, but then, he thought, they wouldn’t need me, would they, if they could get it all right without my help?

Wheat turned to Donsaii, “So you want my critique?”

Eyes twinkling, with a couple of fingers pressed to her lips, Donsaii nodded.

Following the principle of giving compliments first and making criticisms second, Wheat told her that he thought the computer algorithms they were using had produced astonishingly realistic imagery. Then he pointed out that when the animal had been first tossed into the frame it had bounced a bit too high. He went on to compliment the similar structure of the alien and its prey, but to point out that the wings on the alien were too small for flight and the head too small for intelligence. He finished up with the fire that burned excessively for the fuel it was consuming.

Donsaii nodded, “Can I show you some more video?”

Wheat checked his watch, he had nothing pressing and, they were paying handsomely. His department would be pleased to have him bringing in the cash and they would give some of it to him. He nodded and turned back to the screen. An image of a planet appeared on a black background. Almost entirely white with some spots of blue. Donsaii spoke to her AI and the view jumped closer several times then curled in around the planet. A few more jumps and it descended into the atmosphere, then into the clouds, then through the clouds to show splotchy green everywhere.

The detail continued to astonish Wheat as the viewpoint slowly dropped down to a landing in a meadow surrounded by an enormous rain forest. Similar to an Earth rain forest, yet without a single piece of flora he recognized. Some obviously modeled on Earth’s trees, but much too tall for the diameters of their trunks. He mused, perhaps as if the trunks are constructed of stronger material than the cellulose of Earth’s plants? Then something flew across the image. His eyes widened, the alien? It crossed the field of view again, closer this time. Shortly it crossed the field one more time as if it were circling. When he would have expected it to cross again it landed, the eyes in that prehensile neck looking at him. My God, something about that gaze… they’ve managed to make it look intelligent somehow! It has a harness made out of leather or something. And, there’s the hilt of that flint knife. The wings may be too small but they beat like wings should, instead of with that oddly “wrong” motion of most of the other CGI wings I’ve ever seen. The filmmakers must have studied small bird’s wing beating in slow motion and modeled them. Or something? He turned to Donsaii, “That’s amazing! You must be dedicating supercomputer time to the CGI or somehow doing something much more sophisticated than the big studios.”

He tilted his head, “But why? I thought you were into physics, not sci-fi movie making?” He carefully didn’t express his disappointment that she would use her prodigious talents for making movies instead of continuing her research, or whatever you would call turning out profoundly new technology at an unheard of rate like she’d been doing. He supposed she had the right to do whatever she wanted with the talents God gave her, but he felt troubled nonetheless.

Donsaii seemed to struggle with her expression a moment, then her face turned serious. “Thank you for the compliments. It’s gratifying to think that you would believe that I could make such a movie from scratch but I really have no talent along those lines.”

Wheat cocked his head, “Who then?”

She smiled, “No one.”

Wheat stared at her in confusion a moment, then felt icy prickles run down his back, “Huh?” He suddenly remembered that this girl had saved the space station and stopped a comet. She probably was more accomplished and comfortable in the realm of space travel than movie making. But that wasn’t any planet in the solar system! He frowned, was it?

Wheat turned to look at the screen again, still showing the intelligent appearing eyes of the… alien? “Uhhh,” he said, “You’re not trying to say that’s a real alien?”

“Yes sir,” she said quietly.

“But… but the wings are too small!”

“Ah, yes sir. The atmosphere is seven times denser and the gravity is only 0.27G.”

Wheat drew back, considering, “The dense atmosphere makes the fire burn hotter too?”

“Yes sir, and it’s 36% O.”

“Oh.” He leaned back, thinking again about his objections. Of course the animal bounced high if the gravity was low. He thought through his others. “But the head of that—presumably smart—alien is too small to hold a brain big enough to be intelligent!”

“Yes sir, we have a couple of hypotheses on that?”

Wheat nodded for her to go ahead.

“One, it has a small brain in the head that has more efficient neurons than ours, so it still has the computational power to make it intelligent.”

Wheat shrugged, “Seems unlikely, but can’t rule it out.”

“Two, it has a large brain, located somewhere other than the head. Similar to the likelihood that many of the computations carried out in our brains actually occurred somewhere in the spinal cord of the enormous dinosaurs with their notably small cranial cavities.”

“Well yes, but in a huge dinosaur it would make more sense for the ‘calculations’ as you call them, to occur closer to the body parts being controlled. Otherwise the messages’ transit time from the brain to the hind limb for instance would have taken so much time as to be problematically slow. But I assume this animal isn’t huge?”

“No sir, it appears to stand a little more than twice as tall as the three foot long rocket that is observing it.”

That statement reminded Wheat that she was claiming to be observing real aliens on another world. His eyes narrowed, “Wait, that can’t be a planet in our solar system, how are you claiming that one of your, admittedly amazing, little rockets reached another star!”

“Um, yes sir. As you know, the rockets are possible because we can send fuel to them through portals connecting us to them through another dimension?”

Wheat nodded.

“We can open a port to another location that doesn’t have a ‘port mechanism’ at that location, though the accuracy is poor. We opened a lot of ports near Tau Ceti before we had one open close enough to put a rocket through. It still took months for the rocket to fly the rest of the way to TC3.”

Wheat sagged back in his chair, “TC3?”

“Our shorthand for the ‘third planet of Tau Ceti.’ The one you’ve been viewing.”

“You haven’t named it?”

“No sir. We thought it might be nice to let the public pick a name.”

“You’re going public?”

“Not anytime soon. We want to understand it better first. We desperately need your help with that part of it.”

Wheat felt more prickles under his scalp. She’s handing me the opportunity of the millennium for a biologist! The first to describe the flora and fauna of an alien world! He wondered if he was worthy. “So, do you have questions? Or do you want to let me look at all the recordings you have and prepare a report?”

“How about if you look through the… ‘dissection’ we’re calling it, even though it really was more of a ‘cleaning before cooking.’ We’d like your thoughts on the anatomy? We’re looking for your ‘comparative anatomy’ expertise.”

Wheat chuckled, “I don’t think anyone has much ‘alien comparative anatomy’ expertise.”

“You get to be the first then!” she said brightly.

“OK, can you take me back to the start of the dissection and run it in slo-mo?”

On the screen the knife chopped the head off of the floppy neck. “Hold it there. Note that the neck appears boneless? It’s hard to imagine keeping the spinal cord in a neck without some bony protection for it.”

“Might not have a spinal cord as we think of it?”

Wheat paused a moment then shrugged, granting the possibility. “Let’s run some more video.” They watched the skin being peeled away for a moment, exposing a brownish layer that Wheat had thought was muscle the first time through, but now he noticed it seemed somewhat amorphous. “Earth animals keep fat under the skin. Provides insulation and padding and the increased weight of the good times is evenly distributed. That might be what we’re seeing here even though it’s brown instead of white? Do we know anything about their chemistry?”

“The plants contain DNA, according to a reagent test.”

Wheat tilted his head, “Really? Maybe ‘panspermia’ is right after all.”

“Panspermia?”

“The theory that life didn’t start here, but that DNA is spread throughout the universe in bacterial spores etcetera and thus forms the basis of life everywhere. It might evolve into different life forms on each world but it always uses DNA for genetic encoding.” He shrugged. “I’ve always thought it was a ridiculous theory but it won’t be the first time I was wrong.”

“Oh. Yeah we talked about that theory, that’s why we equipped the rocket to test for DNA.”

Wheat had turned his head back to the screen, so Ell resumed the video.

Having completed the skinning, the knife made a transverse cut in the body of the animal just behind the front limbs. “Stop!” Wheat tilted his head. “Why transverse?” he mused, “For earth animals the next incision is longitudinal. Run it back a little.”

Ell ran it back through the skinning.

“Watch the body as he bumps it around during the skinning. It looks pretty stiff as if it has a skeleton or ribs or something all around the entire body cavity instead of only parts of the cavity like Earth animals. If so it would be hard to cut longitudinally because of the ribs and cutting transversely between them would be easier, eh?”

Ell narrowed her eyes as she watched the video again, “I see what you mean…”

“Then there’s some kind of bony structures at the front and the back that are joining the two halves he’s created. Something going from one rib to another. I would be guessing a spine except you’re working so hard on me to keep me from ascribing Earth vertebrate structure. Slow it way down, zoom in… let’s watch the transection part of the video over a few times… Stop! Back up a little. There’s a circular bone like a rib exposed there for a second. Oh! And a little joint visible there at the back, see he pops it loose with a claw there? And a little bone going, presumably from the rib ring above to the rib ring below? Not hollow like our spinal columns. Ho! And look, another little jointed connector bone in the front, opposite the one in the back.”

Ell had paused it with Goldy popping the front joint loose. “They look like they would let the ribs twist and tilt relative to one another, thus providing some rotational and lateral bending motion?”

“Exactly!” Run some more video,” Wheat said excitedly. “No! Wait. Pause it. Let’s just look at the head of the dissector alien for a moment. Hmmm, it looks like there are some big forward facing eyes below the mouth and smaller backward facing eyes above and behind the mouth. Wait… is that the mouth? I’m realizing I haven’t seen it open.”

“Yeah, we have just a few seconds of ‘Goldy,’ as we’ve been calling it, eating in front of the camera. Definitely a mouth. Here…” Ell had Allan play the video of the few moments Goldy appeared in frame while eating the neck of the burrower after it had been cooked.

“Ooh, black teeth! Hard to tell much about the dentition with black teeth in the dim lighting. But… look at it bite right through the neck. Can’t be any spinal column in that neck if Goldy can chomp through it like that! Back to the eyes.” Ell jumped the video back to where it had been. Wheat leaned forward as he stared at the eyes. “Maybe… high quality forward binocular vision for hunting and low quality backward facing eyes to warn of impending predation? And those holes look like ears. I know you’re wondering if we can assume that similar appearance means similar function but notice the translucent appearance of the edge of the one eye focused on the dissection? Translucency is a pretty compelling argument for a light receiving structure. The trumpet shape of the ear holes is also a compelling argument for a structure intended to focus acoustic energy. Again notice, forward and backward facing earholes. I’ll bet when we go back and zoom in on the animal he’s cutting up, we’ll find some similarities in the eyes and ears.”

“Yes sir,” Ell said, “the eyes of the smaller animal are more equal in size and more evenly spaced, I’m thinking to provide near 360 degree warning of predators like herbivores here on Earth.” The head of the small animal popped up on the screen.

“Yep, even better with four eyes I would think. Oh, and look the backward facing eyes are oval and the tops extend up higher on the head. It can see above itself pretty well, I’ll bet. That would be important on a world with a lot of flyers. Wait, I’m assuming a lot of flyers, but haven’t seen them. Have you seen others?”

“Yes sir, we have a lot of video of Goldy and Silver walking through the forest and there are huge numbers of small flyers in amongst the trees. And if you watch carefully, when they were in the meadow there were little flyers popping up here and there. I think there might normally be more but they could have been scared away by the descent of the rocket.”

“Wait, how in the world are you following Goldy and… Silver?” At Ell’s nod he continued, “around with a rocket? Something like that should scare primitives half to death.”

Donsaii smiled at him, “Goldy picked it up, strapped it to its chest, and took it along.”

Wheat leaned back in his chair, flabbergasted. After a moment he waved weakly at the screen for Ell to continue.

Goldy cut the rest of the way through the body, exposing a body cavity front and back of the cut. He pulled the two halves apart and coils of material fell free. “Those tubes look like intestines of course. It’s hard to imagine a body plan that doesn’t follow some kind of ‘tube structure’ wherein the food is pulled through the central tube for digestion. Food needs to go inside somewhere to be exposed to enzymes, etcetera, for digestion and pulling it in and pushing it back out of the same hole is less efficient than passing it through a long tube with different things being done to the food at different stages.” Donsaii nodded her understanding. She’d stopped the video to listen and he waved to start it up again. As the video resumed Goldy reached into the front half of the body with his knife. He deftly made some cuts and pulled stuff out. Wheat quickly put his hand up to halt the video. “I’ll bet that mass of soft pink stuff is for oxygen exchange. It seems kind of flimsy like our lungs.” He tilted his head, “though it doesn’t look as soft as mammalian lung tissue is. A little more like gill tissue I’d say. That solid chunk that came out might be a heart analogue, or liver or kidney I suppose. We have no way to even guess about solid organs.” He waved to start the video again, “Same for those solid looking chunks.” Goldy had deftly spun the knife inside the back half of the body cavity pulling out more intestine and several more solid looking structures. “Wait! Go back!” He had Ell move the video back and forth some. “Look at that! The pulmonary tissue has a tube coming off the front and another off the back. I’ll bet that the air comes in through the front tube and out through the one in the back. That’s more efficient than going in and out the same passage like our lungs do, mixing old air with new. Gills obviously do it that way for fish, but birds also have a mechanism to pump air through their lungs instead of pulling it in and back out the same way. He’s a fascinating bugger!”

“Dr. Wheat?”

“Yes?”

“You keep referring to Goldy as ‘him.’ Is there something you’re seeing that tells you Goldy’s male?”

“Hah! No, sorry, just ingrained habit. A bad one. I’ve seen nothing suggesting maleness and it might not even be a reasonable concept. For all I know these guys split like yeast.”

***

“And so,” Ell said to the group, “Dr. Wheat is everything I could have hoped for. He had great insights into the alien’s anatomic structure, etcetera. Once he believed it wasn’t some kind of new sci-fi movie anyway.”

Everyone had a good laugh as Ell described Wheat’s initial assumption. Then Ell resumed, “I swear, he’s so excited he’d try to watch the video 24/7 if he could. In any case, he would really love to take some shifts and get our feeds of all the bits we think are interesting. I suspect that he’ll even be watching a lot of the parts we think are boring trying to classify the flora and fauna that we aren’t interested in.” She looked at Emma, “He’s going to take your shift this evening so we can go to the Velos concert.”

Emma did a little fist pump and then the group worked on finalizing the design of the followup rocket now that the parts Emma had ordered had come in by overnight express.

***

Syrdian stirred the fire with a stick from their pile, bringing up a coal and starting the new stick itself on fire with it. Hie laid another stick on the burning one and turned to the second burrower from Dex’s snares of the night before. Hie peeled off the skin. The night before hie’d only cut out the innards, leaving the skin on to keep little crawlers out of the meat. As hie skinned the burrower, Syrdian looked at Dex in the firelight, still sleeping. It seemed surprising that hie’d really never noticed Dex before yesterday. Sure hie’d know who Dex was, but never really talked to himr. Dex ranked low in the tribe but as far as Syrdian knew that may only be due to Dex’s drunken parent Genex, not any doings or lack of accomplishments of Dex’s own. In fact, Dex’s leatherwork impressed Syrdian and would suggest that hies rank would rise given time.

Spitting the parts of the burrower on two slender sticks like hie’d seen Dex do, Syrdian mused that Dex had a handsome configuration. Powerful arms and elegant wings. Long graceful body and powerful looking legs. And, Syrdian thought, Dex seemed very confident in hies ability to care for himrself. And, for that matter, for Syrdian too. Much more confident than most young dalin their age. Syrdian turned the spits and thought about Qes. Wouldn’t Qes be surprised if hie came back at the end of the summer and found Syrdian still alive? How had hie ever thought hie loved Qes? Dex stirred. “Hello Dex.” Syrdian said.

Dex used a wing to push himrself up a little. Tilting hies head hie said, “You’re cooking?” Hie sounded delighted.

Syrdian felt immensely proud, “Yes, I watched you carefully last night so I could learn how.”

They packed up, but before they resumed their hike up the mountain Dex examined several of the small saplings that were growing up in the meadow. The little trees were on their way to turning the meadow back into forest. Syrdian said, “What are you looking for?”

“I had an idea in the night,” hie said pulling hies heavy knife out of its scabbard and hacking off the top of a small sapling a little shorter than hies arm. Hie hacked off some of the smaller branches and the leaves, leaving a stick that branched several times into a wide brush of sticks at the end. Hie swished it back and forth a few times. “Remember those annoying little flyers that kept attacking us yesterday?”

“Yeah?”

“This is going to be my ‘flyer swatter.’”

“They’re awfully fast, do you really think you’ll be able to hit one?”

Dex’s wings shrugged, “We’ll see I guess.” Hie strapped hies meteorite to hies chest and they started up the mountain.

***

Deltain lifted off for another day searching. Bultaken had decided to delay the migration for one day to allow the tribe to search for Syrdian and Dex. Actually, the tenor of the tribe’s talk left Dex a definite afterthought. Deltain felt certain that the migration wouldn’t have been delayed for Dex alone. Dalins had spent the night before packing up most of the goods that would have to be left here because they couldn’t be carried on the long migration. The last of the packing would occur tomorrow morning and if Dex wasn’t back they would be leaving. His hearts filled with blackness, Deltain again considered waiting, but if Dex couldn’t return and Deltain couldn’t find himr what was the point. Syrdian’s parents had Syrdian’s two younger siblings but Deltain had no one else.

Maybe hie should stay, hie wasn’t sure hie wanted to live without Dex. Despite Genex’s problems Deltain had loved himr and Dex was hies last link to Genex. Dex… Deltain thought that Dex had inherited Genex’s artistic genius. Pain filled hies chest.

***

Ell walked up to the doors to the White House Entrance Hall. “Hello, I’m…”

The Marine sentry said, “Yes, Ms. Donsaii, we’re expecting you.”

President Flood looked up as the door to the Entrance Hall opened and a young lady stepped inside. He recognized the short strawberry blond hair. As he’d requested a staffer stepped in with her and announced in a stentorian voice, “Ladies and Gentlemen, Ms. Ell Donsaii.”

She stopped inside the door, startled. She covered her mouth and in the sudden silence they could all hear her say, “Oh! Am I late?”

Someone began to clap. The assembled guests joined in, building to thunderous applause.

Flood turned to former President Teller, whom he’d invited, “My God, you’re right, she is astonishingly beautiful. I would never have dreamed it wasn’t all retouching.”

Teller shook his head, “And I’ve never seen her all dressed up in a ‘little black dress,’ so I really had no idea just how… gorgeous she could be.”

Like everyone else in the room, Teller stared. Medium heels made her long slender legs even more lissome. The aforesaid black dress was a simple sheath dress set off with a single string of white pearls. Matching small single pearls adorned each earlobe. And that was all…

The very simplicity of the outfit, with her slender form made the gowns of the other ladies attending seem gaudy and somehow tawdry.

Flood walked toward her, holding out his hand. “Ms. Donsaii.”

She held out her hand, still looked horrified, “I thought it was at 6:30? How… I must be so late.”

Flood took her hand, covering it with his other hand, “Ms. Donsaii, the guest of honor is never late.”

“Oh my,” her hand went to the base of her neck, “no one told me. I’m so sorry. And I can see I should have worn something… more formal.”

Flood leaned closer, “I guarantee you,” he whispered, “that every person in this room wishes they had once in their lives looked half as good as you do. Now I need to introduce you to them.”

Taking her hand, he led her around and began introducing her to his cabinet, the leaders of the Senate and the House, the Chief Justice, and the ambassadors from many countries, though the Prime Ministers of England, Australia and Canada were present in person. Wide eyed, nonetheless she met each of the guests with aplomb, and obviously knew exactly who each person was prior to the introduction, murmuring appropriate words to each.

When the President turned to his last two guests, her eyes flashed wider than before. He said, “And I believe you know…” eyes shining, Ell threw her arms around them, “your mother and grandmother.”

Flood heard her hiss, “You knew and you didn’t tell me!”

The news anchor said, “And now we take you to the White House where a special announcement is to be made by President Flood.”

The screen faded to the White House State Dining Room, then zoomed in on President Flood at the head table as he rose to speak at a lectern. “Hello, I would like to welcome the world to this dinner, held in honor of a most astonishing young woman.”

He cleared his throat, “On March 1 of this year our planet Earth had a date with destiny… Comet Hearth-Daster’s trajectory… had at the very least, scheduled the end of civilization as we know it.” He reached up and rubbed the corner of one eye with a forefinger, then continued huskily. “It is highly probable that most major life forms, including man, would have become extinct on that fateful day.”

He looked around the room, and then into the camera, “Just a few short years ago, there would have been nothing we could have done to prevent the impact of that comet. Because, that would have been prior to the advent of the astonishing young woman we honor tonight.” He turned to Ell, “Please stand.” The President waited while she did so and the room again burst into spontaneous applause. She stood blushing demurely, nonetheless drawing the eye with her startlingly simple but flawless appearance. Flood turned back to the cameras, “Bursting into our awareness five years ago at the summer Olympics, Ms. Ell Donsaii not only won four gold medals in the gymnastic portion of the Olympics, she single handedly stopped a terrorist attack directed at our Olympic athletes. For this, President Teller,” he waved a hand at Teller in the seat to his left, “awarded this young lady the Medal of Honor, our highest military honor, for ‘acts of valor, above and beyond the call of duty.’”

When the applause subsided the President continued, “Having begun her college career at the United States Air Force Academy under a special dispensation allowing her to start at the unheard of age of 15, she then completed the requirements for graduation within two years, graduating at the age of 17. During her time there she wrote a paper entitled ‘A Possible Mechanism for Quantum Entanglement through an Unperceived Dimension.’ A paper destined to shake the world of physics to its very core. A paper for which she was awarded the Nobel Prize in physics this last December.”

Flood paused again for the applause, surveying the room. He turned back to the cameras, “Within six months of entering a graduate program in physics at North Carolina State University she had designed the quantum based PGR chips many of you have already incorporated into your lives.” He chuckled, “Having accomplished that minor task, she dropped out, though I understand that NCSU intends to award her, not an honorary degree, but a full doctorate in physics for the work she did there, including a separate paper explaining the dual slit experiment, a conundrum which has beleaguered physicists since 1803.” The room again filled with applause and the President waited for it to die out.

“In any case, she dropped out of school, every parent’s worst nightmare,” he winked and turned indicating, Ell’s mother Kristen Donsaii with a hand, “right Ms. Donsaii?” he chuckled. With a grin she nodded and this time laughter, rather than applause broke out.

The President continued, “At this point, Ell Donsaii returned to active duty as a Lieutenant in the Air Force, where her country, in its wisdom, used her prodigious talents to fly Unmanned Aerial Vehicles or UAVs. You might think we had successfully shelved her in a location where she could no longer astound us? But, no, no, in less than one year on active duty in a minor post, Ms. Donsaii had, believe it or not, solved an enormous sociopolitical problem. The details of these events must remain confidential for now, but suffice it to say that she was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom, our nation’s highest honor other than the Medal of Honor, which I’ll remind you,” he raised a finger and made a checking off motion, “she already had.” Flood laughed with his audience.

“Now, mind you, while on active duty as a UAV pilot, in her evenings, just to keep herself busy, the young lady did the research that confirmed the principles on which her ‘ports’ are founded.”

“Those ports, my friends, are what the intrepid Ms. Donsaii used to save the Space Station the next year... Those ports are what she has provided to us, with which to explore the resources of our solar system. Those ports are what are going to replace pipes and ships, and power lines, and tanker trucks, and… innumerable other things in this world. They… they are what saved us from Comet Hearth-Daster!” he said hoarsely.

Bracing himself on the podium and taking a deep breath, “Almost all of you know that the comet broke up into large fragments which were taken out by NASA using nuclear weapons provided by our military. You know that, unfortunately this left hundreds of smaller fragments, which, though they wouldn’t have wiped us out, would have caused untold destruction and loss of life. You are aware that Ms. Donsaii’s company, using her small rocket technology, took out those small fragments so that only two fragments reached the ground that were large enough to cause significant damage, however, no loss of life! Even more astonishingly, she and D5R did this without asking for compensation from we, the taxpayers.”

“What you almost certainly don’t know is that NASA could not have reached the comet with the nuclear weapons in time—without using rockets powered by Ms. Donsaii’s ports!

“Ladies and gentlemen, every living person on this world of ours owes this young woman their life. If that comet had struck and you had survived, it would have been a mean and lonely existence.

“Therefore it is with some embarrassment that I tell you we are gathered here on this somber, yet joyful occasion to award Ms. Donsaii a second Presidential Medal of Freedom, with distinction. It is our country’s highest honor yet…” his voice broke, “and yet, it seems not nearly enough for… for what this young woman has,” he finished in a hoarse whisper, “done for us.”

The standing ovation lasted through the time it took the President to remove her pearls and put the ribbon of the medal around her neck. Silence fell as Flood gestured her to the microphone. Blushing again, she cleared her throat and in a voice barely louder than a whisper, said, “Thank you so much for this honor. Really… I have been so lucky… to have been born where I could get an education, where my dreams were not stifled, where I was lucky enough to become a part of some amazing teams. From West Carteret High School, to the Air Force, to the Olympics, to the teachers at NCSU, to the team we have at D5R, to this country as a whole. I’ve been unbelievably lucky to have guessed right about how some things might work in physics. And I’m so grateful that this, miraculous streak of luck… allowed us to stop Hearth-Daster. I continue to believe, that I have simply been blessed by being in just the right place at the right time.” Her voice had faded to a whisper at that point. Nonetheless, she could be clearly heard in the dead silent room. Stiffening her shoulders she stepped closer to the mike and in a trembling voice said, “Thank you.”

As she stepped away the room, still on its feet, built to thunderous applause once again, tears streaming down the cheeks of many in attendance.

Chapter Five

Harald Wheat settled in for his first session watching the aliens. He’d begged off his usual Friday night “date” with his wife and set himself up in his den with three screens from around his house. The biggest one he was dedicating to his main view. The second one he’d divided into quarters for the top and the other three side cameras. A little portable screen that he’d borrowed from his son was showing the view from the bottom camera. Per his promise to Donsaii, he’d locked the door hoping that his wife wouldn’t try to open it. It would be difficult convincing her that any of his work as a biologist deserved to be kept a secret from her.

Like Roger Emmerit had told him in the handoff, the Teecees were hiking up the mountain through the forest. When Harald first opened his screens they’d dipped down to the stream for a drink. Harald’s eyes flashed back and forth, trying to take it all in. All the flora seemed to have surprisingly gracile stems like you might expect in low gravity. Little flyers fluttered here and there. Some flyers attacked others. Smaller ones seemed to be eating the plants and trees. None of them seemed to have feathers, reminding him of big bodied, small winged bats. Or to some degree, seeming like big soft bodied bugs. One of the flyers dive bombed Goldy! Surely it was too small to pose a threat? Goldy ducked violently, thrashing out with the stick it’d been carrying. The stick reminded Harald of a tennis racquet, though more slender of course. The ducking and swinging shifted Harald’s world view about in a sickening manner. Goldy missed the flyer but made it abort its attack with a quick dart to the side. As Harald watched, the flyer buzzed up and off to the side, then pitched over for another dive. This time Goldy waited a moment then swung accurately, the branches of the stick savaging the wings of the flyer. The flyer bounced to the ground. Harald got the impression that Goldy only felt relief that the flyer would no longer be attacking but Silver darted forward. Holding the flyer down with a hind claw, Silver sank a knife into the base of its neck. The flyer quivered a moment then became flaccid. Wheat’s eyes widened, could the brain be inside the body just behind the neck? There it would be protected by what Wheat had thought were “rib like” bony rings during the “dissection.” Located there a brain would be protected from bites of other animals but easily taken out by a knife plunged down from above like he’d just witnessed.

***

Dex watched Syrdian with puzzlement as hie killed the flyer. “Why did you kill it? It would have died anyway with its wings broken.”

Syrdian shrugged hies wings, “Dinner,” hie said, quickly cutting the flyer into front and back halves and scooping out the organs.

Dex tilted hies head curiously. Hie’d never eaten a forest flyer but hie supposed they might be good. After a moment hie resumed hiking up the mountain. Syrdian fell in behind himr.

As the sun descended the next day they reached the cliff below the Yetany tribe’s cave. Syrdian had two more of the annoying flyers on hies harness and they were both tired. They watched the cave area for a portion of a dek. No fliers came or went. The tribe must have migrated as planned.

Dex turned hies gaze to the cliff. Hie’d failed to consider that that cliff might be a problem. Hie’d flown over it hundreds of times. But now Syrdian couldn’t fly. Looking up at it hie wondered if it might be possible to climb it. The dalin practically never climbed anything. Why would you climb something when you could fly to the top of it instead? Even if a dalin did climb onto something, a few reflexive wing beats almost always assisted the climbing.

Stilling hies wings, Dex stepped forward and sunk claws into some crevices in the cliff face. Hie pulled himrself up a bit, fighting the urge to beat hies wings a little. The limestone of the cliff face gave way, chunks falling out. The porous limestone on the surface had softened under the onslaught of the recent rainy season and it wouldn’t hold himr.

“How am I going to get up the cliff?” Syrdian said, sounding dismayed.

In hies backeyes Dex saw Syrdian staring up at the cliff in horror. Hie shrugged hies wings. “We’ll think of something. Can you gather wood for a fire while I scout the cliff from the air?”

Still staring up at the cliff, Syrdian nodded. Dex beat into the air to circle out and up, then land at the top of the cliff. The cliff had been a constant feature of hies life during the winter portion of the year when the tribe lived at the cave above it, but hie’d never given it much thought. It wasn’t useful and, because hie could fly over it, it wasn’t a problem. Hie realized now that it may have hindered some of the land predators from reaching the cave and that likely had been a good thing. It was about six body lengths high and extended far to either side of the cave. Hie didn’t really know how far it was unbroken and that should be hies first mission hie supposed. Perhaps Syrdian could simply walk north or south a ways and climb where there wasn’t a cliff or there was a break in the rock face? Hie looked up toward the cave a moment, wondering if hie should fly up there, maybe it would give himr an idea?

Instead, hie beat into the air and rode the east wind rising up the mountain, sliding to the north looking for a break in the cliffside. Though the flight in the rising wind felt exhilarating after days of walking, Dex despaired at the unbroken wall of limestone, it would take a long time for Syrdian to walk this far and hie still hadn’t found a break. Dex turned and drifted the other way, passing over Syrdian with a little wave and coasting along over the cliff to the south. Again the cliff seemed to go on forever and Dex eventually turned back, hoping to find a way to help Syrdian climb it. Walking around seemed like it would take forever. At best walking around the cliff would be a way for Syrdian to continue climbing the mountain. But Dex would then have to fly back to visit the cave alone to scavenge supplies so that Syrdian didn’t have to walk all the way back to the cave area.

Dex coasted in to a landing next to Syrdian. It pleased himr to see that Syrdian had built a respectable little fire in front of a recess in the cliff face that resembled a shallow roofless cave. When Syrdian had seemed so pathetic at first, Dex’s infatuation had withered. But now that Syrdian displayed more capability and competence Dex found himr very attractive again. Syrdian had spitted the annoying flyers hie’d collected during their trek and suspended them over the flames to cook. Dex sucked a little air in over hies olfactory patches and the smell made hies mouth water. Syrdian said, “Did you find a place for me to climb up?”

“No and then it started getting too dim to see well so I came back. I’ll look again in the morning but I wondered if you could climb up one of these trees if we cut it so it leaned up against the cliff face?”

Syrdian tilted hies head, “Climb a tree? I don’t know. I’ve never tried. But I’ll try it now.” Hie walked to a nearby tree and looked up along the trunk. After a moment to gather resolve, hie reached up and sank claws into the bark. Raising hies left foot hie sunk a set of toe claws in too, Pulling up with hies arms Syrdian surged up and pulled hies right foot up to try to sink its claws too. Suddenly the claws on the left foot ripped the bark loose. The sudden weight on hies hand claws ripped them loose too. As Syrdian fell back, hies wings ascended to beat for some lift and prevent a fall.

Behind Syrdian Dex shouted “No! Hie stepped forward, catching Syrdian beneath the wings with both arms. Hies primary intention was to prevent Syrdian’s wing beating and possibly tearing the sutured lacerations. Dex, however, felt overcome to be holding Syrdian’s body to hies. Warm, firm, wonderful Syrdian. The Syrdian that Dex had dreamed of holding for years now.

Syrdian turned hies head to look at Dex with hies fore eyes. “Thanks Dex, I’m OK now.”

With a start Dex let Syrdian go. “Sorry, you scared me.”

“I frightened myself too! I appreciate you catching me and keeping me from tearing my wings. I don’t think I should climb this type of tree though.”

“You’re right, let’s try a couple of other kinds to see if their bark is more secure.”

Dex and Syrdian walked around to several different types of trees, sinking in their claws and pulling. The bark ripped off fairly readily from every type they tried. Dex shrugged hies wings, “Oh well, I was worried about how hard it would be to cut a tree so it would lean against the cliff anyway. Let’s eat, maybe we’ll think of something during the night. If not, I’ll fly the cliff again tomorrow and find a place for you to climb no matter how far it is.”

Syrdian said, “You’ll think of something.”

Dex thought that Syrdian’s statement displayed an unrealistic faith in Dex’s abilities; but it gave himr a warm feeling.

Not as good as holding Syrdian in hies arms though.

Syrdian handed himr a couple pieces of flyer and hie took a bite. Hies eyes widened, these flyers may be annoying but they’re tasty! Hie wondered about hiking into the forest with a branch in the future just to try to bring some flyers down. Maybe even some of the flyers that didn’t attack? Could there be some way to catch some of them? Some kind of snare? Hie took some more pieces of flyer Syrdian held out to himr as hie tried unsuccessfully to picture a snare that could catch a flyer. Hie couldn’t imagine catching one of the small flyers, they were much too agile and would easily dodge such attempts. Hie wondered a moment about trying to put a trap on their nests, but the nests hie’d seen were high in trees in thick branches that a dalin couldn’t fly into. Hie’d just learned that hie couldn’t climb trees very well.

Dex and Syrdian finished eating the three small flyers that night and they talked a little while. Syrdian said, “It’s getting pretty hot. I sure hope you’re right about it being cooler higher up the mountain.”

“I know it’s cooler. I’m worried about what we’ll eat up there.” As they drifted off to sleep Dex wondered what they would eat in the morning.

***

Ell’s car dropped her off a couple of blocks from Vic’s new club in Carrboro. As the car headed off to park, Ell pulled her hoodie up over her ball cap and started down the sidewalk. She appreciated the brisk evening air since it made the hoodie seem reasonable attire. She smiled to see a dispirited line waiting beside the ticket booth. Ell stepped up to the window and cleared her throat. The man in the booth uncrossed his arms and pointed to the “Sold Out” sign, “Gotta wait in line for someone to leave.” Ell leaned close to the window, “I think you’re holding a ticket for me?”

He rolled his eyes, “Name?”

“Donsaii.”

His stool, propped back on its rear legs, dropped forward, “Sorry, Ms. Donsaii! We’ve been hoping you’d come!” Since she was only twenty, he issued her a red, “non-drinking,” wrist band, then popped the door open.

Ell wandered in and headed to the bar for a Coke. Velos seemed to be on break. The place was packed but not as noisy as she would have expected. Coke in hand, she looked around and realized the diminished sound level came from all the sound absorbent materials covering the walls. The crowd seemed boisterous and people were talking just as loud as you might expect from a vibrant throng, it just didn’t echo around. Instead of struggling to understand people in the normal cacophony of a crowded bar scene she could hear them clearly.

She leaned up against a post and watched the crowd. To her amusement the couple beside her were arguing about whether Velos sounded great because they were “an awesome band,” or whether they sounded great because “the acoustics in this place are amazing.” Ell was just happy that the consensus was that “they and/or the place sounded great.” She saw Emma and Joe Chan standing near the dance floor. Joe wasn’t staggering, making Ell think that he hadn’t had anything to drink.

Though the stage remained empty, the guitar lick from the intro to Velos’ new hit single “Alive at the End of the World” came over the PA. Ell surreptitiously looked around, surprised that they would play a recording of their hottest song at one of their live shows. The lick repeated itself, then again. A spotlight up on the stage faded on and slowly pivoted around until it pointed out over the crowd. It gradually drifted to the right wall and then down until it lit the curly red hair of someone facing the wall. Gordon slowly turned around and the spot expanded to reveal his guitar in his hands as he stroked the lick again. The crowd went wild, hooting enthusiastically. The next time Gordon played the lick, the bass came in on it too. Another spot came on, swung slowly around the club and focused on the bass player standing over on the left wall of the club. They cycled through the intro licks again. Then the snare began to pop on the backbeat. Another spot came up on the drummer who’d mounted the stage while everyone was focused out front. He brought in the powerful thump of the kick drum on the one and the three. The lights snapped off and the music paused for a four beat. Ell felt the tension building in the crowd as a long sustained note faded in on the Hammond D3 organ. As another spot faded in on the keyboard player he began arpeggiating the same chord that the intro guitar lick covered. A spot faded in on Gordon, now standing in the middle of the dance floor beside a mike on a stand. He leaned into the mike whispering the words of the first verse; Ell felt goosebumps at the eerie sound of the whispered verse over the Hammond. The words paused and Gordon played the guitar lick again, then the entire band came thundering in on the chorus while the crowd went even crazier than they had when Gordon first appeared in the spot.

Standing in the shadows, Ell pulled the hoodie back far enough to be sure it didn’t affect her hearing. The music was loud! She felt the thump of the kick drum resonating in her chest. Gordon’s traditional rough guitar sound was powerful to the point of being intimidating. Yet everything sounded so clear! Ell shook her head in amazement—she’d never heard live music sound so good.

When the song had faded away to enthusiastic applause Ell slowly became aware of a large presence on her right. She glanced over and saw Vic grinning at her. “Ms. Donsaii, thank you for coming—and thank you for what you did for us all, as the President reminded us in that ceremony.” He waved around the club, “What do you think?”

Ell grinned back, “They sound awesome!” She winked, “They must be really great musicians.”

He grinned back, “They are, no doubt.”

She raised an eyebrow, “You don’t think it has anything to do with the incredible acoustics of this venue?”

He frowned and rubbed his chin as if considering, “Might have a little bit to do with it.” Then he grinned proudly. “So, you like it?” He waved his arm again to encompass the bar/venue that was his pride and joy.

“Yeah! I think it’s amazing. You sure do have an ear for these things. “I’m thinking my friend Belle’s crazy aunt isn’t going to regret her investment?”

Vic shrugged. “Opening nights can be good and everything can still go to crap, but I sure hope not… Are you gonna dance?”

Ell laughed, “I think I’ve done enough dancing at Gordon’s concerts.”

“No you haven’t! I know Gordon’s hoping you’ll dance at this one. So am I. He left some space open at the right side of the stage again.”

Ell said, “How ‘bout just you and I dance, then you can tell Gordon I danced at his concert for him.”

“I can’t do any of that crazy stuff you do on the dance floor!”

“Let’s just dance like everyone else. I’ve made a spectacle of myself plenty of other times.”

Vic shrugged and moved out through the crowd toward the dance area. Ell followed, wondering if she could keep the hoodie up and try to remain unrecognized. Vic stepped out into the midst of the other dancers, almost all freestyling, and turned to face Ell. They both began moving to the music.

Vic mused that Donsaii didn’t seem to be doing anything complex, just swaying to the music like he was, shuffling her feet a little and moving her arms to the beat. But, she did it so… elegantly. Not different, just better. So much better. Her clothing wasn’t sexy, she wasn’t performing any of her unbelievable athletic feats, yet he just couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He looked at her clothing, an ordinary hoodie with short t-shirt under and loose pants, not so different from many others in the bar. In fact, other than her graceful flat tummy peeking out from under her shirt, it seemed something more likely to be worn by a guy than a girl. Yet there was no doubt that she was a girl. Though you couldn’t see her very well with the hoodie up, you just had a feeling that she was pretty. Could it just be because he knew who she was? Vic glanced around and saw that most of the people nearby were watching her, both men and women. He didn’t think they’d recognized her, just that they were fascinated with her graceful, though simple dancing.

Then one of them pointed. Like a ripple around her, people began focusing on her, turning toward her and obviously recognizing her. He would have sworn that Donsaii was blushing even though her face was shadowed. The people around her opened up an area of the dance floor and several waved toward it, obviously hoping that she would dance one of her remarkable dances again. Instead she shook her head and backed up to the edge of the open area as if waiting for someone else to dance in it. When the song ended Vic took her back to a dark corner of the back bar and got her another Coke. Talking to her he found her to be very down to earth, he could see why Gordon thought he was crazy about her even though Gordon had only spoken a few words to her.

When Velos took their next break, Vic took her back to the band’s dressing room. “Gordon, someone here to see you.”

Gordon turned, “Ms. Donsaii!”

“Ell, please.” Ell said quietly, almost shyly. She turned, “Hi Emma, Joe,” she said, nodding to each of them.

“How do you like the show?”

“You guys sound great!” She turned and winked at Vic. “I’m thinking that something about the acoustics here is helping?

“Oh yeah,” Gordon enthused, coming over to Ell, “Vic’s helped us tremendously with our sound out on the road but this place he’s built is just amazing. Everything sounds so clean in here. We’re hoping to turn out a ‘Live’ album from what we’re recording tonight.”

Ell turned to Vic, “You aren’t manning the mixing board for that?”

He grinned, “Naw, I’ve got the world’s greatest recording engineer doing that tonight.”

Gordon waggled his eyebrows, “His Dad is on the board. He knows more about recording than any two ordinary engineers.”

Vic said, “I was out there trying to learn from him when the ticket office told me that a certain VIP had picked up her ticket and I went out to look for her. In fact, I’d better get back before he decides I don’t care.”

Once Vic had excused himself Gordon turned to Ell, “Sit, sit. I’ve so wanted to have a chance to get to know you. First, I want to second what the President said about you…”

As Ell walked out of Vic’s she felt placidly happy. The music had been great and talking to Gordon had been a lot of fun, though it had been hard not saying something that would give away the fact that she also knew him as “Belle.” It had also been difficult resisting his entreaties that she dance on the stage next set. But she had agreed to go out to dinner with him before Velos’ next concert in Raleigh…

Her AI told her that her car would meet her around the corner because the street in front of Vic’s was busy enough that AI driven cars weren’t allowed to stop there to pick people up. As she turned the corner onto the street where her car was to meet her she heard steps jogging up behind her. Glancing back she recognized one of the men who’d been dancing near her when she’d been on the dance floor with Vic.

“Ms. Donsaii? Hi, I’m Gary Palot. I’ve admired you for… forever and wondered if I could buy you a cup of coffee?”

Ell smiled at him, “Thank you. I appreciate the offer, but I’m pretty tired and,” she shrugged, “I don’t even drink coffee.”

His smiling face twisted fleetingly, then the smile returned. “Dessert?”

Ell’s eyes narrowed, she hadn’t liked the look that had momentarily appeared on his face, but she smiled anyway and shrugged, “No thanks.” She stepped off the curb to walk around to the other side of her car.

“Sam said you were a bitch, but I didn’t believe him.”

Falling into the zone Ell turned to look at “Gary” again. The twisted look was back, occasionally flickering toward a smile, then back to his uglier aspect. Gary reached toward his waistband. Ell stepped toward him, wondering why her life seemed to have so much drama in it. When his hand dipped in and pulled out a pistol she stepped the rest of the way to him and twisted the gun toward him, loosening his fingers and ripping it out of his grasp. “Call 911,” she said to her AI, stepping back and dropping the gun into her purse. Putting her hands up in a fending off posture she said, “Back off Gary, that wasn’t nice.”

Grabbing his right hand in his left, Gary said, “You little bitch!” Letting go of his hand he stepped forward, reaching out.

Ell just stepped out of his reach, speaking slowly so he’d understand, “Gary, calm down. You’re in enough trouble. Don’t make it worse.”

A familiar sounding voice said, “Don’t move, bitch…”

Ell looked to Gary’s right and saw Bridget’s Sam stepping out of the alley, right elbow locked around Emma’s neck. Some kind of splint was still on his right hand. The way Emma was leaning back there was no doubt in Ell’s mind that his left hand had the barrel of a gun pushed into her kidney.

A spike of fear shot through Ell as she saw the panic in Emma’s wide eyes. She raised her hands, empty palms out, “OK, what do you want?”

“We’re all going to get into your car there, Donsaii. Then we’ll go for a little ride out to your house.” Sam nodded at her car. “Then we’re going to have a little talk with my Bridget. You’re gonna undo whatever brainwashing you two have done on her so’s she can come home.”

Ell’s eyes widened, it sounded like Sam was completely out of touch with reality. He’d built an imaginary mental world in which Bridget lived with Ell because she’d been programmed to do so rather than because of her fear of Sam. Speaking calmly Ell said, “OK” and turned to get in the car. As she opened the door she quietly said, “Allan, blitz,” which was the prearranged signal to her AI to contact her security team and the police and send a constant audio-video stream to them. She pondered the common advice that you should never go anywhere with a kidnapper. You didn’t want them to take you to an isolated area. However, it sounded like Sam planned to take her to her own farm house which would allow more of her security team to gather in a location they were familiar with.

Gary got in front with Ell, while Sam and Emma got in the back. When the doors closed Ell told the car’s AI, “Take us to my house.” She took a couple of deep breaths and felt herself drop out of her zone.

As the car started rolling Gary reached out and pulled off Ell’s AI headband, “Sorry it has to be this way,” he said. He popped the PGR chip out of her headband but to her relief didn’t look for the second hidden chip. When she looked at him wonderingly he shrugged and said, “If you’d just gone for coffee…”

Mentally Ell rolled her eyes, but physically she just stared at him, trying not to look as disgusted as she felt.

From the back seat Sam said, “I’ll bet you girls thought you’d beaten me for good.” He giggled, almost hysterically, “You probably thought that with my hand trashed I wouldn’t be able to do anything to get Bridget back out of your clutches.”

Ell turned to look at Sam, He wasn’t wearing an AI. Of course, if he did hook himself into the net, someone would be by to pick him up pretty quick. But it was pretty hard to get along in the modern world without some kind of AI, at least to pay for things. “How’d you get out of prison?”

Another frenetic giggle, “Psych eval. They sent me to the state hospital to see if I was crazy. It ain’t too hard to escape from that place if you ain’t crazy. Gary here was just bein’ released when I got out. I got a ride with him and his family.”

Ell realized that Gary’s AI must be serving for both of them. She said, “Sam, do you really think that Bridget loves you and wants you back?”

“Absolutely!” he said with a brittle edge.

“Will you ask her if that’s the case?”

“No! I know you done something to her. She didn’t even come visit me in the hospital!”

“Sam…” Ell started to ask wearily.

“Shut up!”

Emma yelped as Sam jabbed the gun into her side. “Say another word and I’ll put a hole in your little friend here.”

They’d traveled a few blocks in silence when Gary leaned toward Ell and said, “Kiss me?”

Astonished, Ell leaned away, looked at him and gave him one sharp head shake, thinking something was deeply wrong with him. It was as if he had no concept what other people were feeling. He and Sam were quite the pair. The remainder of the ride to Ell’s house passed in silence, though Ell continued thinking furiously.

When they drove up to the house the lights were out suggesting that her security team wanted darkness where their IR gear would give them an advantage. Sam insisted that he get out first and that Emma follow him out the right rear door. Then he walked her around to the driver’s side and, with the gun firmly in Emma’s side, told Ell to get out. Gary got out at the same time. Ell saw a lone tear running down Emma’s cheek.

Sam gestured to the house with his chin, “Take us in and we’ll get Bridget.”

Ell wondered what Steve and her security team were doing. She hoped they’d gotten Bridget out of the house and she worried that they might do something that frightened Sam while he was holding a gun to Emma’s back. They walked up the steps to the porch and Ell told the door to unlock. She had to give it a passcode since she wasn’t wearing her AI. She turned to Sam, “Sam, are you sure you don’t want give yourself up. It’s only going to get worse for you, you know?”

“Shut up and open the door.”

Ell opened the door and pushed it open, gesturing for Sam to enter first.

“No! What do you think I am, some kind of idiot? You go first.”

Ell stepped into the room and then to the left just inside the door.

“Move into the middle of the room. You aren’t pulling any of your tricks on me again.”

Ell stepped into the middle of the room. Knowing that the security team could see her on the cameras, she shook her head, hoping that they would understand that she didn’t want them to come in guns blazing. She had a feeling that anything that frightened Sam would result in Emma getting hurt. She had the same feeling about any kind of hostage negotiation.

Sam pushed Emma across the threshold. “Bridg’?” he called out. “I’ve come for you, honey. Don’t worry about these people sweetie. I’ll protect you from them.”

Ell sighed. Sam seemed so far out of touch with reality, she wondered if anything could get through to him. If not, it seemed unlikely that this situation could end without Sam getting hurt, and possibly hurting Emma or Ell.

“Bridget?” Sam said, louder this time. He motioned at Ell with his chin, “Where are you keeping her?”

“I’m not keeping her. She lives in a bedroom on the second floor.”

“Let’s go.”

They made their way up the open stairway, a task made difficult by Sam’s insistence on keeping his right elbow locked around Emma’s neck as they ascended with him on the stair below her. The stairs gave out onto an open walkway that went around to the rooms on the second floor. Ell stepped left and waved a hand to the right, the direction of Bridget’s room. Sam said, “No, you lead the way.”

Ell led as directed. Once they arrived in Bridget’s room they found the bed unmade with a t-shirt tossed on it.

Gary said. “Looks like she left.”

Sam turned furiously, “‘Looks like someone took her, you mean.”

Gary shrugged.

Sam turned to Ell, “Where do you have her?”

Ell shrugged, “She’s a free person, comes and goes as she wishes.”

Fiercely, “Where do you have her?” Emma yelped and bowed backward as Sam forced the gun into her back.

Bridget’s voice came from out in the hall, “Sam?”

Sam smile beatifically and looked toward the hall, “Bridget?” He started dragging Emma that direction, keeping her between Ell and himself. “Bridget?!”

Ell held her breath, but as he was about to go through the door he suddenly stopped, turned to Ell and said, “You first.”

Careful not to slump her shoulders and confirm to him just how badly she wanted to be behind him, Ell instead shrugged and stepped out onto the walkway. Once there, they heard Bridget’s voice coming from the house AI’s speakers, “Sam, I’m not in the house. I don’t want to go anywhere with you…”

“Bridget…” Sam said plaintively. “No! This isn’t the real you! They’ve brainwashed you honey. Remember how much we loved each other?”

“I loved you once, Sam… But then you got jealous and mean… And controlling.”

“No! Bridget, I’m different now. Besides, they’ve done something to your mind. Come talk to me in person… I, I can reprogram what they’ve done to you, honey, I promise. We’ll be back just like we used to be.”

Bridget sobbed faintly, then said, “Sam, I… I hated the way ‘we used to be.’”

“We’ll fix it Bridg’. Don’t give up on us. We can get back the way we used to be.”

“I don’t want be to back that way Sam! Listen to me!”

“I mean before, before it all went bad, before that… night. I just loved you too much is all…” he trailed off plaintively. Ell could see tears running down his cheeks.

“Sam,” Bridget said, “let Emma go, she’s done you no harm.”

Angrily, “She, she messed us up!”

“Sam, she didn’t. We were already messed up. All she did was point it out to me, just how bad our relationship was… Sam… you were a bully.” Her voice cracked on this last.

Gary had moved up on the right side of Sam and Emma. He said, “I don’t think she likes you anymore, Sam.”

Convulsively Sam pulled the gun out of Emma’s side and reached around her stomach to fire a shot at Gary. “SHUT UP!”

Gary danced away unhurt, “Geez man!”

“Sorry.” Sam looked up at the overhead speakers that Bridget’s voice had been coming from. “Bridg’?”

Ell had stepped closer when the gun was out of Emma’s side, but it was digging in again. Bridget’s voice sadly said, “Sam, let them go.”

“No! They’re gonna take me to you, then you’ll see, it’ll all be better.” He looked at Ell, “Back off! And take us to Bridget.”

Ell shrugged, “Don’t know where she is.” Her eyes narrowed. When Sam brought the gun back from firing at Gary he’d dug it into Emma’s side in front of her arm, instead of behind like he’d had it before. She looked up into Emma’s eyes and stared hard at her. When she felt Emma looking back, she dropped into the zone and looked hard down at the gun—would Emma understand what she wanted? Emma looked down at the gun herself, then up at Ell, seeming to take forever to Ell, deep in her zone.

Emma nodded minutely.

Sam said, “Take us…”

Seeing the muscles on the front of Emma’s arm contracting Ell began stepping forward, pulse throbbing slowly in her ears.

Emma’s arm began moving and Ell saw the skin on the front of Emma’s elbow flatten against the gun.

Ell began reaching out, seeing Sam’s fingers tightening as the gun moved from the push of Emma’s arm.

The gun slid forward on Emma’s side.

Ell saw the trigger depressing as she reached out.

The trigger moved farther.

Ell’s fingers curled around the barrel.

The gun bucked as Ell pulled outward.

In horror, Ell saw a hole in Emma’s shirt.

Emma’s stomach rippled…

Ell twisted upward, forcing the barrel away from Emma, but over her own ducking head.

Ell dropped to her knees under the gun as she kept twisting it back out of Sam’s hand.

The gun wouldn’t come free because Sam’s finger was caught in the trigger guard. She backed off a little on the twist, making sure the barrel wasn’t pointing at anyone, grasping his wrist with her right hand and pulling the gun free.

She tossed the gun to the floor behind her.

Sam began dragging Emma toward the railing as if he were going to throw her over.

Ell raised back off her knees, bringing her right hand up flat to smash the flat of her palm into the middle of Sam’s face, smacking into his nose and eyes.

Too hard! Ell thought regretfully as she felt the crunching sensation of Sam’s nose and right cheekbone collapsing under her hand. His head flew back, then his hands flew back to catch himself as he fell backward.

Ell glanced at Gary who, wide eyed, had braced himself, as if at attention. Back and hands against the wall.

Her eyes turned back to Emma’s stomach, her hand lifting Emma’s t-shirt and seeing two holes indicating the bullet went through and through. “Call 911!” she shouted.

***

Ell sat in the ER with Emma, holding her hand while a cute young intern nervously sutured the bullet wounds. Scans had shown that the bullet had grazed her abdominal muscle but hadn’t entered the abdomen itself. She would be sore but not permanently injured. They heard Roger’s voice outside, “Emma?”

“Hey Roger, Come in, if you can stand watching me getting sutures.” The curtain moved back and Roger came in, “Hey, Em’, what are you doin’ getting’ yourself shot?!” He noticed Ell, “Hey, Ell.”

With delight, but also some sadness at the depth of concern in Roger’s voice, Ell said, “Hey Roger, I told you you should go to the Velos concert.”

Roger sat down and took Emma’s other hand, looking into her eyes he said, “I wish I had. I heard that it was Bridget’s crazy ex?

“Yeah, he escaped the psych eval unit. Hopefully they’ll put him in higher security this time.”

Ell said, “Rog’?”

He turned to her, “Yeah?”

“Can you take Emma home? I’ve got to go deal with the police some more.”

“Sure!”

Ell stood and squeezed Emma’s hand, winking with the eye Roger couldn’t see and putting on a brave smile. She turned to Roger, “Take care of her.”

After she stepped outside the curtain, Ell wiped the corner of her eye. Buck up! she told herself, They deserve each other and you should not be sad that your two good friends are getting together. As she walked out into the cool evening she snorted, jealous over a guy I don’t even love. What an idiot!

Chapter Six

Though it was Saturday, the team had been so excited about their alien observations that they had agreed to meet at nine to talk about what was going on with Goldy and Silver. Wheat was so excited he’d arrived early to be sure he found his way to the right place, especially since he’d never been to D5R. Donsaii looked up when he arrived. “Sorry about being a little late taking over the observations last night.”

“Hey, no problem. Congratulations on your award Thursday night!”

“Thank you.”

“Actually, I was so excited I hadn’t even noticed the time until you called last night. That’s even though the Teecees had gone to sleep and nothing was happening. I was using one of the screens to go back through the trek I’d already watched, trying to categorize all the plants and animals.”

“Well after you signed off, I didn’t have much to do because the Teecees were sleeping, so I went through the parts you’d highlighted. I think you’re right.”

“Right about what?” Norris asked as he came in the door.

“Dr. Norris. Hi. Let me introduce Dr. Wheat.” She turned to Wheat, “I told everyone on the team about you so they all already know who you are. Dr. Norris here is from the Astronomy Department at UNC and is an expert in solar systems. He’s been great and really helped us when we were building the rockets we sent to TC3 so we wouldn’t contaminate their world with our microbes and vice versa.”

While Ell introduced Norris, the rest of the team came in. Emma was with them! Roger accompanied her and she moved quite gingerly.

Ell’s eyes widened when she saw her, “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be resting?”

“No, I’m not even taking much pain medicine, just some Aleve. It doesn’t hurt much and I’m not in any danger. And I wasn’t gonna miss hearing what’s going on with Goldy and Silver!”

Roger sighed exasperatedly.

Manuel turned to Emma and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! Don’t want to talk about it.” She turned to Harald and smiled, “You must be Dr. Wheat?”

Ell introduced the rest of them around. “Dr. Wheat had a pretty good idea last night. Remember how we’ve wondered about why Goldy and Silver are walking through the forest when they have wings and can fly?”

The group nodded, then Ell waved a hand at Wheat. “Fill them in.”

“Um, well, I think that only Goldy can fly. As far as I’ve been able to see from your notes, Silver’s never been off the ground. Have any of you seen Silver flying?”

They all looked at one another, shaking their heads.

“Look at this zoomed image,” Wheat continued, pointing at the big screen which zoomed in to show an enlargement of Silver’s wing.

“Oh,” Emma said, “those look like stitches! I thought it was a tattoo or some other kind of decoration when I saw it before.”

“Exactly!” Wheat said, “I think Silver’s injured and Goldy’s accompanying it somewhere. Now near the end of my shift watching them, they reached a cliff,” he pointed to the big screen showing the cliff in the rocket’s camera as Goldy flew over it. “Goldy took off and flew along it, first one way, then the other. I believe, looking for a way up. So far it seems to have stymied them. Goldy made a brief attempt to climb the cliff but it seems to be made of soft material, at least on the surface and Goldy’s claw holds broke quickly. Then they tried climbing trees but the bark on the local trees tore loose when they sunk their claws into them. I had the strong impression that they’d never tried climbing anything before. Why would they? After all, normally they can just fly to the top of anything, rather than having to climb at all. If they did have experience climbing trees, they’d probably just rip off the bark and sink those impressive claws into the deeper layers.”

Roger said, “So they weren’t able to get up the cliff?”

“No, and I think we could get a start on making friends with them because of this situation.”

Ell turned to him curiously, “Really? You didn’t tell me about that.”

“Yeah,” Wheat said excitedly, “gesturing at the cliff on the screen. We know how to climb cliffs. They’ve never had any reason to so they don’t have any ideas. Isn’t there any way we could show them how to do it?”

Ell raised her eyebrows and turned to the others.

“Really? Should we be interfering in their lives?” Emma asked.

Ell shrugged.

Norris said, “Hmmm, first communication with an alien intelligence. It might be that the government has some rules or regulations about how it’s to be done.”

“I looked that up the first day we saw Goldy and Silver,” Roger said, “There have been think tank discussions and the military has worked out protocols, but no laws have been passed restricting what we can or can’t do as private citizens.”

“I don’t know; a lot of harm befell primitive societies here on earth when advanced civilizations made contact with them.”

Manuel looked around at the group, “Oh there’s no doubt that Columbus brought some nasty diseases to the Western hemisphere and that the Europeans subjugated, enslaved and exterminated the Native Americans… but we’re doing everything we can think of to keep from transmitting disease and we can hardly exploit them when we can’t even get there.” He shrugged, “Also, even though some of my ancestors were ill-used, I myself am happy to be living in a modern society. It’s a two way street with some bad things and some good things on it.”

Wheat said, “Personally, if some alien was watching me struggle with a difficult problem, I’d certainly appreciate a little help. Those people who think that the lives of primitive peoples were noble and peaceful should look into how most of them actually lived. I’m not saying that primitives are bad people. I’m saying that living without modern technology would suck. Big time. In the United States today, even the poor have access to bathrooms, sewers, immunizations, antibiotics, communications, entertainment, air conditioning, spices and innumerable conveniences that the kings of yore would have been ecstatic to have. Anyway, I think one of the best ways for us to make contact would be to help them solve a small problem. We don’t have to give them blueprints for how to build a steam engine and hook it up to an elevator; we could just show them how to use a vine as a rope.”

Ell looked around the group, “Just knowing that Goldy is helping Silver when she’s injured is making me feel pretty kindly toward these two. I don’t know if they are representative of their people, but I like them and want to help them if I can. Does anyone have a serious objection to trying to provide simple suggestions?”

Shrugs and shakes of the head greeted her query. “But how are we going to suggest anything to them? So far we can’t even hear them, much less talk to them.”

Emma put her hands up, “I’ll have the laser acoustic pickup working early in the week and we’ve got most of the parts for our second rocket. But it’ll have to be assembled, then sterilized, then flown from the deep space portal to TC3. And don’t forget we need to put another intermediate pipe out there in a plunging solar orbit before we can use the new rocket.”

Ell said, “Hey, no one’s accusing you of being slow… though we do wish you could be faster,” she grinned, “but even after we have acoustic reception and eventually transmission it’ll probably take a long time to understand them and translate what we say into something they can comprehend. What I’m thinking is that there might be visual means of communication? Like hieroglyphics maybe?”

Manuel pulled his screen to himself and started marking on it like he often did when he was planning out how to build something.

Roger frowned, “Hieroglyphs weren’t really ‘word pictures’ the pictures were kind of like our letters, representing sounds.”

Ell said, “Yeah, but maybe we could make ‘word pictures’ work for us?”

“Couldn’t we just send them a drawing of someone climbing a cliff using a rope?” Wheat said, “Or not someone, it would need to be a Teecee. We’d need an artist.”

“Wait a minute, it’s all very well to talk about showing them pictures but there aren’t any vid screens on the rocket either you know?”

“But there is a window we can shine a laser through.” Ell waggled her eyebrows.

Manuel said, “How about this?” He slid the screen that he’d been drawing on out onto the table and eyebrows rose.

***

Dex woke up cold and reached over to pick up a couple sticks and stir the fire back to life. Once the tip of one of the sticks had caught from a coal, hie held the other one over the flame until it caught too and laid them together so that they would both burn. When they were burning brightly the heat warmed hies front. After a bit hie turned hies back to the fire to warm hies wings. As hie turned to face the cliff hies eyes flashed wide. Dex turned violently, pushing up, hies wings exploding from hies back, arching up to lift himr to safety. Syrdian, roused by Dex’s violent motion and the boom of hies wing extension also startled awake, wings lifting, then curling suddenly back down in reaction to pain from the sudden movement. Dex and Syrdian unconsciously shuffled together, staring at the cliffside where glowing red lines had appeared. “What is that?” Syrdian asked.

“I don’t know!” Dex whispered.

“I’ve never seen anything like it before! Do you think those glowing lines are on the face of the cliff every morning?”

Dex turned to look behind himr with hies fore eyes, for a moment thinking that the sun might be rising back there and shining through some kind of gaps in the trees to create the lines. But no, just as hie’d seen with hies back eyes, behind himr was still the darkness of the west where the sun had set. The sun would be coming up in front of himr to the east, on the other side of the cliff and the mountain. No one else had a fire burning that might cast that eerie glow either.

Dex turned back to look at the cliff itself. Could there be something in the cliff itself that glowed? There were a few faint bluish spots in the wall of the Yetany tribe’s cave that glowed for a while after sunset. Not as brightly as this though! Perhaps it was the spirit of an ancestor?

Syrdian said, “Dex! At the bottom... the red lines look like a dalin, seen from the side!”

Dex’s wings rose involuntarily and made a soft downbeat as hie looked at the lower lines. It does look like a dalin! Genex, Dex’s drunken parent, had been famed for scratching representations of animals into the limestone of the cave walls. Dex had taken some pride in the awe that visitors from other tribes demonstrated when they saw the images. Dex had occasionally tried scratching some images in the dirt himrself. But their scratched drawings... though more complex, weren’t as cleanly representative as the elegantly simple glowing lines on the cliff face in front of himr. And Genex had never drawn a dalin, only animals. Neither had Dex.

Dex and Syrdian both jumped a little in a startle reflex when another dalin appeared next to the first one, both of the drawn dalin’s appearing to be looking up at the cliff. The cliff! Dex suddenly realized that the lines in front of the dalins looked like the cliff would, seen from the side. The lines went up about six body lengths as compared to the drawn dalins, then showed the relatively flat area at the top of the cliff. Oh! And the lines behind the dalins in the drawing were trees! Dex looked around... like the trees surrounding Syrdian and himr. “Is that a drawing of you and I and the cliff?” hie whispered to Syrdian.

Syrdian’s wings rose a little as hie stared. “It is?”

“I’m asking you?”

Syrdian’s head tilted one way, then the other as hie stared. “I think you might be right!” hie whispered back.

The drawing changed again, startling Dex and Syrdian into lifting their wings a bit again. This time one of the dalins was represented climbing the cliff side, hands and feet on it as if its claws were sunk in. The drawing changed to one showing the dalin back on the ground, rubble at hies feet and a defect in the cliff where the dalin’s claws would have been.

After a pause, the drawing shifted again. This time it showed one of the dalins flying near the top of the cliff with a rope… no a vine, dangling below it. Dex drew hies head up and back. This was amazing!

The drawing shifted. The upper dalin was tying the vine around the base of a tree while the other end dangled to the bottom of the cliff where the lower dalin held it. When the drawing shifted again the dalin was flying to the top of the cliff with a second dangling vine.

A final drawing appeared. This time the lower dalin appeared to be walking up the cliff. Hie had hies hands on the vine that was tied to the tree at the top of the cliff. The second vine looked to be tied around hies waist. The dalin at the top of the cliff was leaning back, pulling on that vine.

Dex stared in wonder. It was as if the drawings were telling himr and Syrdian how to get up the cliff! Hie stepped closer to the cliff to look at the drawing closer. Would there be more to see up close?

Suddenly part of the drawing disappeared, then the entire drawing disappeared! Syrdian cried out.

Dex stepped back, hoping that the drawing would reappear, maybe it had been frightened by hies approach. Hie also turned to see what had frightened Syrdian. Syrdian, eyes wide, was staring at Dex. “What?”

“How are you doing that?”

“I’m not doing anything!”

“You are! The red glowing lines appeared on your back instead of the cliff!”

“What! That can’t be!”

“They did.”

Dex stretched hies neck up and over to examine hies own back, “There aren’t any lines on me!”

“There were. They appeared on your back when they disappeared on the cliff. They looked like part of the picture from the cliff, just smaller. You can’t tell me you aren’t making them!”

Dex felt hies wings ripple in… excitement? Dread? Hie walked back around to where Syrdian had crouched by the fire. Hie put another stick on the fire and looked back at the dark cliff face. The sky over the mountain had lightened but everything not lit by their fire still was still black and indistinct. Syrdian touched hies leg. Dex looked down, Syrdian pointed at the cliff face. The glowing lines were back showing the dalin flying over the cliff face trailing a vine again. After a moment, it changed and the dalin was tying the vine to a tree. Then flying back up with another vine. Then the lower dalin was climbing the cliff by pulling on the vine tied to the tree while the upper dalin pulled on the vine tied to the lower dalin’s waist.

Dex looked at Syrdian. The glowing lines showed the flying dalin with the vine. They went on to repeat again. Dex crouched next to Syrdian, “I think the lines are trying to tell us how to get up the cliff,” hie whispered.

Syrdian nodded but said nothing.

Dex lay down, saying, “Maybe we’ll try it when it’s light.”

Syrdian said, “I’m hungry,” but Syrdian crouched down next to Dex as hie stared at the glowing lines repeating their pictures on the cliff face over and over.

When the glow in the clouds over the mountain had had brightened enough to see well, Syrdian got up and said, “I’ll try to get us some food.”

Dex said, “Shall I come with you?”

Syrdian said, “No, you get the vines shown in the pictures,” and walked off down the ridge into the forest carrying a pointed staff and Dex’s flyer swatter.

Dex shrugged hies wings and walked out into the forest looking for a vine. There were thousands of them but hie didn’t know how hie’d get one down from a tree. Dex cut one near its roots and pulled on it. It pulled loose from little rootlets and guided himr over to the tree it ascended. Hie pulled harder and harder to get it to come loose but when it was about a body’s length above himr it would no longer come loose from the tree. Other vines had entangled with it so that hie was actually trying to pull many vines loose. Hie leaned hard on it, it was strong enough to support hies weight as hie’d seen in the diagram but if hie climbed up and cut more of it loose, how would hie get back down?

Dex tried a couple of other vines without success. One pulled loose to about three body lengths because it was young and new and mostly on top of the other vines but then it broke. Young, new and smaller didn’t look like a good choice since it wouldn’t be strong enough to bear Syrdian’s weight. Hie looked for one that ran along the ground so hie could cut it loose, but they all promptly went up trees. Dex climbed a tree, clinging to the vines instead of the bark while trying to cut a single vine loose. Hie had to beat hies wings to help climb while trying to cut a vine loose. It was exhausting and before hie had the six body lengths of vine hie needed, the vine became small and weak. Hie pulled it loose and fluttered to the ground.

Dex scratched the base of hies right hind wing and looked around. Hie wondered, why do the red line Spirits want us to use vines instead of rope? After some thought hie decided that even if the lines wanted them to use vines, that rope should work for the same purpose. Hie walked back to their little clearing and was about to take off when Syrdian came into view climbing up onto the ridge. Hie had a swimmer! Dex was bemused to realize that hie hadn’t believed that Syrdian had any chance of getting them food. “Syrdian! How did you get the swimmer?” Dex was pleased to see it looked large enough to feed both of them easily.

Syrdian shrugged hies wings, “I like catching swimmers. I saved a little of the flyer from last night for bait.”

“Really? How do you catch fish with bait?”

“I use this little bone spike I made, tied to a fiberlin string.” Syrdian pulled out a length of fiberlin with a sharp bony point aimed back along the string. “You put the bait over it to hold the point against the string and dangle it near the swimmer in the water. When the swimmer swallows the bait, you tug on the fiberlin and the little sharp end pops out to the side and catches in the swimmer’s stomach. Then you pull the swimmer out of the water with the fiberlin.”

Dex admired the swimmer a little more, glad that the morning wouldn’t be as hungry as hie had expected. “I’m going to fly up to the cave and get some rope. I can’t get any vines like the red lines show in their pictures. Well, I can’t get pieces of vine that are long enough to reach the top of the cliff anyway.”

Syrdian frowned, “Maybe we’re supposed to tie several short pieces together to have ones long enough?”

“Do you really think it matters that we use vine instead of rope?”

Syrdian shrugged hies wings, “I’ve never had advice from the spirits before. But Bultaken always wants the tribe to do things exactly as hie saw them in hies spirit dreams.”

Dex raised hies head in surprise, “Do you think those were spirit dreams we had last night?”

Syrdian shrugged.

Dex said, “I’ve never heard of two dalins having the same dream. I saw glowing red lines on the cliff face, showing a dalin climbing a cliff using vines.” Hie tilted hies head, “Did you see the same thing?”

Syrdian dipped hies head yes.

Dex waved hies head uncertainly a moment, then said, “OK, I’ll get some pieces of vine to tie together, but I’m worried they won’t be strong enough.”

By the time Dex returned with several lengths of vine Syrdian had finished cooking the swimmer and had collected and chopped up a few small tubers from near the campsite. They ate with gusto, the crunch of the little tubers going well with the soft flesh of the swimmer. Syrdian had even filled a skin with water when hie was down at the stream so that they had something to drink.

They laid out two pieces of vine end to end. Dex said, “How do we tie them together?”

Syrdian’s head went up and back, “I don’t know! You’re the leatherworker.”

Dex tilted hies head, “Vines aren’t exactly like leather, you know,” he said quietly, picking up the two ends and wrapping them into the first throw of a knot. The vines were stiff and didn’t form a good knot. Hie looked at the knot a moment then said, “Pull on that end.”

Syrdian picked up the vine on the other side of the knot and began pulling. The knot cinched down but the vine started cracking and splintering as hie pulled hard. Eventually the vine pulled into something that resembled a knot but had corners and splinters rather than the smooth roundedness Dex was used to.

Syrdian looked at the knot curiously, “Do you think that’ll be strong enough?”

Dex waved hies head in negation. “I don’t think you should trust your life to it.”

“How can we make it stronger?”

“Add a rope?”

“Do you think that would be OK with the spirits?”

“I don’t know, but it would make me feel better.”

“Me too,” Syrdian whispered.

***

Deltain sighed as the rest of the tribe launched themselves into the air for the second day of the migration. Wings sagging, hie turned back and looked to the north from whence they had come. Hie knew in hies hearts that there could be no chance that Dex might appear in the distance, flying hies way. Yet hie could hope... With aching hearts hie slowly turned again and lifted into the air toward the south.

***

Wilson Daster was on “voyeur” duty, as he thought of it, watching the Teecees on Saturday afternoon. Once Manuel had finished his drawings the rest of the group had broken up and taken off to enjoy the weekend because the Teecees themselves were boringly asleep. The rotational period of TC3 was surprisingly similar to Earth’s at 23 hours and 43 minutes. Currently, sunrise at the TC3 camp would have come at about 10:35, but because they were on the western slope of a huge mountain Tau Ceti didn’t actually crest it until about noon and it didn’t go down until around midnight. Wilson had been watching in the late morning when the Teecees first woke in the dark and saw the laser tracing out Manuel’s drawings on the cliff face. Although Goldy had put the rocket down on its side, by luck he laid it over a bump that held the laser window slightly above the ground. The window was facing a little bit downward but Allan twisted it with a gentle shot from the rotational attitude jets. They shot compressed air, but the slight hiss they presumably made hadn’t disturbed the Teecees.

Wilson had a moment of panic when Goldy stepped in between the rocket and the cliff and into the beam of the laser. He’d barked at his AI to shut the laser down because he wasn’t sure whether the beam was strong enough to burn the Teecee. Allan, Ell’s AI, had then confirmed that the power was low enough that it shouldn’t cause harm, but Wilson had left it off until Goldy was well out of the way. The Teecees had seemed somewhat panicked and Wilson considered leaving the laser show off, but eventually resumed showing the series of pictures.

The Teecees had apparently gone back to sleep, but when their campsite was fairly well lit by sunlight diffused through the clouds, they had gotten up and gone their separate ways. They left the rocket lying there so Wilson had no idea what they were doing. When the Teecees returned Goldy was empty handed but Silver had a fish! Well, when Wilson was able to see it clearly, he could see that it was quite different than Earth fishes. Brown in color, it must be slippery because Silver held it with claws slightly extended to provide a grip. Torpedo shaped, the head drooped a little as if it had a muscular but boneless neck like the Teecees, the burrower, and the flyers. The body appeared to be less flexible than earth fish and instead of a tail with fins, it looked like it had the standard plan of four hind limbs, two of which were much enlarged and looked like they performed the function of the tail in an earth fish.

Once Silver had cleaned the fishlike animal, Wilson sent a message to Wheat, letting him know that another “dissection” had been done. Wilson watched interestedly as the fish was suspended over the fire and occasionally wondered where Goldy had gone. When Goldy returned with several short lengths of vine, Wilson wondered why he hadn’t brought back a longer one. She? Wilson realized that he had subconsciously decided that Goldy was the male and Silver the female part of a mated couple. He shrugged, thinking to himself that it didn’t matter much how he thought of their sexes, at present the important question was why not a full length vine?

Having an “aha” moment, while the Teecees were eating the swimmer Wilson scanned back through the images of the hike the day before. Though there were lots of vines, they were all tangled together and going up trees, maybe it was impossible to obtain a long one like they had had the laser draw.

Back to the present, Wilson saw Goldy tying two vines together but the knot didn’t look very strong to him. Maybe if they bound the knot with a smaller vine? But then Goldy flew away.

Silver didn’t do much while Goldy was gone. At one point she came over and examined the rocket, giving Wilson a close up view of her head. Then Goldy reappeared and picked up several of the short vines, taking off with them back up into the air. Wilson wondered what was happening.

After a bit, a vine was lowered down the face of the cliff. It appeared at the edge of the field of view of the camera and looked odd, as if it were double stranded? Narrowing his eyes and leaning forward, Wilson said, “Allan, zoom me in on that vine at the right edge of the picture.” As the digital zoom took him in he saw that there was some kind of black second strand accompanying the vine. Something else flashed into view, then was gone. “Zoom out.” A second vine seemed to be hanging just at the edge of view. Wilson could only see leaves, not the actual main vine or whether it also had a second strand of black. He wondered whether they were in fact taking direction from the laser drawings the team had sent them or whether this was something they had planned to do anyway.

Silver appeared in the frame and went to the cliff where the vines hung. First she picked up the black strand and wrapped it around her waist, tying it off. Wilson had Allan zoom in again, that looks like rope! Silver picked up the vine and wrapped it around her waist also tying a loose knot in it. Then she picked up the other vine, pulling it into view. It also had a black rope. She pulled on it firmly, as if testing its strength. Or the strength of the rope anyway. Wilson noticed that the vine didn’t really come tight. Even though Silver had both in her hands, all the weight seemed to be on the rope. He tilted his head wondering, why are they using the vine if they have a perfectly good rope? Could they be trying to follow our instructions to the letter even where they make no sense, but backing them up with something that does?

Silver looked up the cliff face and tested her weight on the rope again. The rope around her waist pulled taught. Her wings fluttered a moment, then she climbed out of view, leaving Wilson to wonder what was happening.

***

Just when Wilson was wondering if he should have the rocket right itself and fly up the cliff looking for the Teecees, there was a flash of wings and Goldy landed at the campsite. He moved around the camp, picking up a few items and attaching them to his harness. Then he approached the rocket, picked it up and reattached it to the front of his harness. Wilson’s point of view flew back into the air and circled out over the forest climbing hard. Silver came into view beside a small tree at the top of the cliff, working on the vines she had climbed. Goldy landed beside her and picked up the vine. In a moment it became evident that the black strand was indeed a rope and they were removing the vine from it. Once it was separated they coiled the two ropes and each took one as they began hiking up the slope again. The area near the cliff was relatively clear, perhaps because it wouldn’t support large trees, but in a few minutes they were back in the forest.

***

Norris took over from Wilson Daster Saturday evening. Because Daster had described the ascent of the cliff, Norris set one screen let him observe the ascent while he watched the Teecees progress on the others. He’d been pretty bored at first as the Teecees simply trekked the forest, but now they had broken out of the forest and were approaching a large limestone formation. Not an endless cliff like they’d encountered before, there was forest to either side of it. It was pretty massive though and it had a large dark shadow on it that he thought might be a cave.

The AI was stabilizing the video image, but it didn’t have great detail because of the slight blurring of each image caused by Goldy’s movements. So Norris had to wait until they got pretty close to be sure it actually was a huge cave. It had a large ledge out in front of it. Once Goldy and Silver entered the cavern they went to a recess and unloaded the two ropes in an area that had a lot of other supplies. More ropes, wooden shafts, chunks of rock that Norris thought might be flint, baskets, pottery and many other objects that Norris didn’t recognize were stacked in there. Goldy leaned the rocket up against a large stack of what Norris determined must be firewood when Silver took several pieces to a blackened area and began starting a fire with them.

The position of the rocket let Norris see much of the cave, though he suspected that it went far back into the mountain darkness where he couldn’t see. So perhaps he was only seeing the entrance? Though he wondered if the Teecees mostly lived out here where there was plenty of light.

While he surveyed the space and saw the Teecees walking back and forth in it, he became more and more astonished at the size of the space. It was huge! It seemed much bigger than he would have thought would be reasonable for two beings like Goldy and Silver to live in, yet the way they moved about in it bespoke familiarity. Just the amounts of the supplies stacked near the rocket seemed like the stores of a community, not a couple. Yet if this was the living space of a community, where were the people? Or where were the Teecees, to be more accurate? Were they all out hunting, or farming, or something like that, to return just before sunset? Had something happened to the community with Goldy and Silver the only survivors?

Goldy flew off out of the cave. Silver propped a large flat rock up on edge next to the fire and backed away from the fire to begin preparing a flyer it had been carrying. After Silver skinned the flyer and skewered pieces of it on a stick, it propped the stick over the fire, then went back into the storage area. It came back out with a paddle shaped stick, a large urn and a small pot. It poured something powdery out of the urn into the little pot, then dribbled some water into the pot from the water skin it carried. Using the stick it stirred the little pot, then took the urn back into the storage area. That done, Silver turned the spit over the fire and went to stand in the shade near the lip of the cave, staring out over the valley below with wings slightly spread. Norris got the impression that Silver was hot.

After a bit Silver went back to the fire and, wings folded behind it as if to keep the heat off them, flipped the big flat rock on its back with the hot side up. Silver poured pasty whitish material out of the pot onto the hot rock, spreading it with the paddle stick. Silver again went to stand, wings partially spread, in the shade near the lip of the cave.

After a while Goldy returned with no indication of where it’d gone and the Teecees ate the flyer and what appeared to be flat cakes that had formed from the paste Silver had put on the hot rock. They spent the remaining time until sunset looking through the storage area, bringing stuff out and making a pile. Then putting some things back. Norris had the impression that they were arguing about what to put on the pile at several points. If only he could hear!

***

Kant Fladwami walked into his meeting with President Flood. Several of the President’s other advisers were already there. The President turned, “Kant, I’ve got a lot of people riding my ass about this new run of bad weather! Is there any basis for their claims that we need to reduce CO emissions even further?”

Fladwami shrugged, “I’m your science adviser, but global warming isn’t one of my own areas of expertise. However, I’ve been talking to some people I trust who are experts. They tell me that we should be concerned. Since they found all that cheap natural gas in the States there hasn’t been much reason to move to non-CO producing energy sources because gas is so cheap. Governmental pressure on manufacturers and power plants to reduce output has helped, but hasn’t kept up with the increased usage of the cheap energy. When you burn a lot of gas, you’re going to create a lot of COand there’s a limit to how much of it you can sequester. Donsaii’s little ports that let cars get power directly from the power company should help though. Not only are the power plants more efficient, cars that burn hydrocarbons don’t sequester any of the COthey make like the power companies do. As we move away from those kinds of cars we’ll do better.”

“How much better?”

Fladwami shrugged, “Not a whole lot, but better than nothing. We’ll also be moving away from batteries in the electric cars, the manufacture of those batteries is hydrocarbon intensive.”

The President sighed, “I still kind of think it’s all a load of crap, but I’ve got a lot of hand wringers, here and abroad, that want us to do better.” He looked up at the ceiling a moment, “I hate bowing to pressure.” He bowed his head, “Nonetheless, I’d like to be able to tell them we’re going to do something substantive. Any ideas?”

“We could start taxing hydrocarbon burning cars to push them off the streets. We could increase the tax on the power plants for unsequestered COproduction to push them to do better. We could also push farmers to do better with methane reclamation from manure to decrease the methane released; it’s a worse greenhouse gas than CO

The Secretary of Defense leaned forward, “When Amundsen briefed me into this job he gave me one, I thought odd, piece of advice that might apply…”

“What?”

“‘If you’ve got a problem you can’t solve,’ he said, ‘try calling Donsaii.’ Came to mind just now since you guys were already taking her name in vain.”

The Secretary of Agriculture barked a laugh. “Come on guys, the girl’s pretty and smart and her ‘ports’ are pretty neat tech, but she isn’t going to have a solution to this! What do you think she’s gonna do, install a port in each cow to vent flatus into space?”

Several people in the room looked at each other, then a laugh broke out. “You might be onto something there Harvey,” Fladwami said, “though we’d have to run numbers. But it might not be a good idea to vent stuff out into space where we can’t get it back if we need it someday. COhas a lot of Oin it, you know.”

Flood sighed, “Kant, ask Donsaii if she’s got any ideas,” he said, “Teller told me that he wished he’d talked to her more. Now, on to our agenda…”

Chapter Seven

At the Tuesday morning “team Teecee” meeting, as Ell was calling it, Wheat and Norris attended remotely. Ell said, “Any new developments with Goldy and Silver?”

“Nope, since they packed up and left the big cave Sunday morning they’ve just been climbing on up the big mountain. They’re carrying a lot of supplies and look pretty tired. You know Norris had the idea that Silver was hot during his Saturday night observation. I graphed out the temperatures recorded since the rocket landed. They have been quite a bit higher the past few days than when it first set down.”

Wheat broke in, “I surveyed the Teecees behavior when the temps are up late in the day and they do tend to lift their wings as if they might be pumping blood through them and using them as cooling radiators.”

Roger said, “I’ve looked over the orbit. Not only is this the time of the year that the southern hemisphere tilts toward Tau Ceti, but it is also closer to the star this time of year. I think they are going into a pretty hot summer. I’ll bet they’re climbing the mountain to get out of the heat.”

“Maybe the rest of their group or tribe is already up there?”

Wheat said, “I’m worried because it doesn’t look like they’re getting much to eat while they’re on the move. They’ve been eating those cakes they cook from the powder they picked up at the cave, but my impression is they aren’t happy about it.”

Emma leaned forward to eye Manuel, “Maybe our resident artist could draw them some diagrams of a bow and arrow to help them hunt on the move?”

Wheat shook his head, “Bow and arrow is actually pretty sophisticated tech. You need springy wood for the bow and straight shafts for the arrows.” He wiggled his eyebrows, “And feathers for guidance, remember there don’t seem to be any birds on TC3.”

“Maybe they could use some stiff leaves?”

“Getting that across in a drawing could be pretty difficult. Remember their literal use of vines instead of their own ropes when we helped them climb? If we drew a leaf that was poorly suited, they might use it anyway. Anyway, even after you’ve built your bow and arrow, learning to shoot accurately is no trivial task. They already know how to make snares. What I can’t figure out is why they don’t set snares out at night. There ought to be a pretty good chance of catching some nocturnal animals. Goldy put two out the first afternoon in that clearing and caught a burrower at night.”

“Those two depended on springy saplings and there aren’t many of them in the shade of the forest. The one clearing they overnighted in recently didn’t seem to have any saplings in it. It was probably cleared by a recent burn.”

Wheat said, “Well we could draw them some snares that don’t depend on sprung saplings.”

Manuel said, “Help me pick out some snare picture off the internet, ones you think would work on TC3. I’ll redraw them for the laser.”

Wilson said, “It may be a while before we have a nice place like a cliff wall to project your pictures though.”

Emma leaned forward and raised an eyebrow, looking around, “I’ve got some news…”

As the pause extended, Ell narrowed her eyes “Are you trying to make us drag it out of you?”

Emma drew back putting up her hands, “No! No. Me um tell you right now Bosslady!” She wrinkled her nose and grinned, “Well, I’ll let you listen.” Odd sounds issued from the room’s sound system, squeaks, swishes, thumps. Seeing the furrowed brows around her Emma pointed at the screens showing Silver walking up the mountain in front of Goldy and the rocket’s cameras. Suddenly they recognized the synchronization of soft padding sound with Silver’s stride. A flittering sound was one of the small flyers going by.

“You got the laser acoustic pickup going!”

“Yup.” Emma sat back and grinned.

“Way to go!” The all sat back to listen to the sounds of the world they’d been watching silently for a while.

Roger frowned, “Do all the sounds seem a little high pitched to you guys? I mean, even the sound of their footfalls sound high.” he turned to Emma, “Could you have an error in the algorithm?”

“Nope.”

“Are you sure?”

“Want to bet a dinner on it?”

Roger narrowed his eyes, “Okaay.”

Emma grinned at him. “It’s the increased air density. It raises the pitch and tamber of the sounds.” She leaned back and looked up at the ceiling, “I think I’d like to eat at… La Mez.”

Roger laughed, glancing momentarily at Ell, then back at Emma, “OK, you’re on. I’ll take you and Ell both to dinner tonight.”

Ell saw a brief disappointment flash over Emma’s face but winked at her, saying, “Hmmm, are you sure La Mez is expensive enough for us Emma?”

Emma grinned back, “I think so,” she arched an eyebrow at Roger, “as long as he doesn’t call my skills into question again.”

Roger laughed and leaned back, holding his palms up, “I surrender, I surrender. I have nothing but admiration for your ability to coax sound out of a rocket not intended for it anyway.”

A loud series of squeaky sounds issued from the speakers. On the screen Silver turned to look at Goldy and more distant squeaking ensued. Daster tilted his head, “Is that them speaking?”

“I’m pretty sure it is,” Emma said, “though they don’t open their mouths to do it.”

“Wait, how do they make those sounds then?”

Wheat said, “There’s no rule that says they have to bring air in through the same orifice they bring food in through. That’s the way we do it, but I think they pull air in through that dark spot at the base of their necks.”

“But… that spot’s furry!”

“Filters out dust?”

Roger laughed, “OK, but then how do they clean the filter?”

“If you watch them, they use those prehensile necks to reach their heads down to the base of their neck pretty frequently. I think they may be grooming their air intake.”

“So you think they’re speaking out of that hole at the base of their necks?

“No. I think that’s the air intake, I’m pretty sure they exhaust their air out of that opening on their lower chest.  They pull air in, pass it through their lungs, and send it out the lower opening. More efficient exchange than pulling it in and out of the same windpipe like we do. Using the same passage results in some ‘dead air.’ They would be able to make sound better using the outgoing air at that lower vent than at the intake.”

Emma said, “Hah! I’ve been noticing that they speak, or whatever you call it, continuously, without stopping to take a breath.” She tilted her head, “Perhaps I should say,” she got a devilish look on her face, “They ‘squeak’ continuously. I wondered how they could possibly do that, but if they’re constantly pumping air through…”

Ell sighed, “We need another expert, this time to help us translate.”

***

Roger found Emma and Ell at Emma’s workstation. “Hey, I thought I was buying you ladies dinner tonight?”

They turned and smiled. Ell nudged Emma, “And here I thought he’d forgotten his debts.”

Emma grinned up at Roger, “I’m the one he owes.”

As they walked out to the parking lot Roger said, “That really was pretty cool, Emma, setting up the laser as an acoustic pickup off the window of the rocket.”

“Almost as cool,” she grinned, “as figuring out that the sounds are different because of the increased air density?”

Roger sniffed aristocratically and pretended to ignore her, “Let’s all go in my car, yours can follow along.”

As they were getting in Ell said, “Whoops, I’m getting a call. You guys go on ahead and I’ll meet you there.”

“We can wait.”

“No, you go on ahead. This could be quite a while, hopefully I’ll be right over though.” As she pulled her head back far enough that only Emma could see, Ell winked at her.

Emma got a little lump in her throat, but turned to Roger, “Hey, I’ve been meaning to tell you, pretty sharp figuring out that the weather’s getting hotter there on TC3.”

Warmed by the praise, Roger nonetheless said, “Well it didn’t really come together for me until Wheat pointed out that he thought they were trying to cool themselves.”

“Still, that was a good pickup. Also, I haven’t gotten to thank you for taking me home from the hospital. Maybe I owe you dinner?”

“Naw, shucks Ma’am. ‘twern’t nuthin’. I’m pretty amazed at you though, shot one night, back at work the next!”

“Arggh, ‘twas only a flesh wound,” Emma grinned at him.

After they’d been at the table in La Mez for about ten minutes, Ell called to say she couldn’t make it after all and told them to have a good time. Though he was disappointed, Roger had a delightful time and thought to himself after they left that Emma had become an amazing friend. Smart, pretty, fun and great to talk to. If only I weren’t already in love with Ell, he thought to himself, I could really fall for her.

***

Ell leaned back in her chair at her house, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Recently she’d been trying to understand some of the issues with the accelerating expansion of the Universe that had led to the hypotheses requiring “dark energy.” But tonight she couldn’t seem to concentrate on the math she’d been working on for the past few weeks. She’d tried watching the Teecees, but they were just hiking up the mountain. Her thoughts kept coming back to Roger and Emma driving off to La Mez. She felt happy for them and could rationalize that their relationship was a good thing… despite all that, it left her with an undefined ache. “Allan, put through a call to Phil Zabrisk.”

“Ell?”

“Hey, how’s my favorite astronaut?”

“Great! I’ve been up three times on training missions so far. Now that you’ve made it cheap enough to be realistic NASA’s talking about a mission to the Moon to build a real Moonbase. You may be able to say you know a “moonie” pretty soon; I’m angling for a spot on the construction crew.”

“Hey, once you get the ‘Zabrisk Moon Resort’ built, you’ll have to let me know so I can come visit.” Ell found herself hoping that Phil would repeat one of his frequent invitations for her to visit him in Houston.

Instead Phil said, “Hey, you’ll be glad to know that I’ve finally stopped dreaming that you’d fall for me someday. I’ve started dating one of the lady astronauts. I think you’d like Carol, she doesn’t let me get away with anything either.”

Distantly, Ell heard herself say, “Sounds like the kind of girl you need. I’ve got to pity her though. Have you warned her about what she’s gotten herself in for?” Surprised that her voice didn’t break, she felt tears slowly begin running down her cheek.

Phil laughed, “No! And don’t you tell her either. A guy’s got to have his secrets you know.”

Ell laughed too, hoping it sounded normal despite the frog in her throat.

Phil said, “Hey, I’ve got to go so Carol doesn’t find out I’ve been talking to the love of my life. Catch you another time?”

“Bye,” Ell whispered, then buried her head in her hands, wondering how she could feel so devastated that her two “friendly boys” had finally found, or been found by, girls who would promote them to boyfriend status. She should be happy for her friends… not devastated by their good fortune. She contemplated calling her friend Gary from Las Vegas, but decided that the way things were going, he would turn out to be engaged or married and she’d be even more depressed.

She’d just need to wait until her date with Gordon Saturday before Velos’ show in Raleigh. Ell turned back to the screen with her dark energy calculations. After staring at the screen for another thirty minutes without seeing anything she got up, went into the bathroom and put on her “Raquel Blandon” disguise.

Walking down the stairs, Ell met Bridget coming up. Bridget said, “Where are you going, this hour of the night?”

Feeling like Bridget could feel the desperation oozing out of her, Ell said, “I thought I’d go see how Vic’s bar is doing now that the opening buzz has worn off. Wanna go with?”

Bridget smiled brightly, obviously delighted, “Sure, I need some social life, just let me put on my ‘night out’ heels.”

Ell had been going to walk through the woods to get her little pickup truck that she used when she was in disguise but Bridget offered to take her car instead. In the car Bridget asked, “Why are you going as… ‘Raquel’ right?”

“People treat me weird when I’m out as ‘Ell.’ I don’t want to be signing autographs. I just want to be an ordinary person tonight.”

“Hah! ‘Ordinary.’ That’s hard to imagine for you, but it’ll be fun. Maybe next time I could dress up as ‘Ell’ and sign autographs. I’d like to be that person sometime.”

Despite her previous funk Ell giggled, “We should do that.”

Vic’s had a good crowd, though it didn’t compare to their opening night with Velos. Bridget and Ell threaded their way up to the bar to get a beer for Bridget and Ell’s usual Coke. The band, named “Parker,” played bluegrass with a Celtic flavor. The peppy rhythm had them swaying before they really got back out into the main club. All the tables were occupied so they stood near the dance floor taking it in for a bit, then Bridget said, “Let’s get out there and dance!”

Ell frowned, “Where are we going to put our drinks?”

“On the rail here.”

When Ell set her drink down she realized that a lot of people must leave their drinks on the rail and she wondered how they kept them straight. She bent her straw over and looked carefully at the depth of the Coke so she could tell if it had been disturbed. Soon Ell and Bridget were out on the floor freestyling.

After they’d been dancing a little while, an enthusiastic young man stomped his way out onto the floor spinning and thumping his feet. A girl on the other side of the floor turned toward him and started doing the same thing. Ell turned to Bridget, “Is there a name for the dance those two are doing?”

“Clogging.”

“Do you know how to do it?”

Bridget shrugged, “Kinda.” She started a simple kick, step, kick, step rhythm and Ell quickly accompanied her. Ell turned to watch the young man. After focusing on his feet a moment, she added “double toes” and “rock steps” to what she was doing, enjoying the challenge of matching him.

Bridget went back to simply moving freestyle to the music while watching in amazement as Ell quickly added more and more of the steps the young man was performing. She shook her head, with anyone else she would have thought that they had been teasing when they asked what the dance was and then immediately demonstrated that they were an expert at it—but she’d seen Ell dance other dances and suspected that picking up clogging just felt easy to her.

A few minutes later Ell was doing everything the young man was doing, essentially following him in the same steps at the same time and occasionally throwing in a flourish of her own. When he turned, she turned. Even though they were across the floor from one another, it looked like they were dancing as partners. She really liked it, the fast pace of the foot movements was great exercise, though she wished that it also incorporated something for her hands to do. She grinned, the joyful activity had brought her out of her funk. She looked at Bridget and raised her eyebrows. Bridget grinned back at her.

The song drew to an end and Ell headed back over to her drink. Bridget came up behind her, “Don’t you want to dance another one?”

“Hah! I was workin’ out there, not just freestylin’ like you were. I need a break.”

Bridget laughed, “OK,” she put her hands up, “I’ll admit, I took the easy way out.” She looked to Ell’s right and raised her eyebrows.

The guy who’d led the clogging out on the dance floor was standing next to Ell, eyebrows raised, waiting to speak, but not wanting to interrupt.

When Ell turned to him as well he said, “Hi, I thought I should come meet my dance partner. My name’s Shan.” Tall and rangy looking, with shaggy blond hair, he held his hand out to shake.

Ell shook his hand, “Hi, I’m Raquel,” she motioned, “this is my friend Bridget.”

“Where’d you learn to clog?”

Bridget opened her mouth to say, she learned here tonight! But Ell beat her to answering, saying, “Oh, just here and there, a little bit at a time.”

Bridget opened her mouth to protest but caught a little head shake from Ell and subsided.

“Have you clogged with a partner? I mean other than dancing the same steps as me like you just did?”

Ell shook her head.

“Would you try it with me?”

Ell shrugged, “Sure, but you’ll have to teach me how.”

The band swung into “Orange Blossom Special” and Shan held his hand out. Ell took it and they headed out to the floor with a lot of other enthusiastic dancers. Shan took her hands and turned her into a cuddle, which Ell was familiar with from swing dancing. Then they started doing clogging footwork similar to what they’d been doing across the floor from one another earlier. Shan began taking her through some turns. Ell found it to be different from the swing dancing she’d done in the past because the footwork was much faster but the turns much slower. She really enjoyed it, but realized she’d be exhausted pretty quickly with her poor stamina and the fast pounding of their feet.

Shan was excited to be clogging with someone so good at it. She matched his footwork effortlessly. When he threw a different step in from what he’d been doing, he could barely tell that her feet had lagged his in doing the same thing. It wasn’t as if she’d read his mind and knew what he was about to do with his feet, it was as if she seemed supernaturally fast at correcting what she’d been about to do, to what he’d already started doing. She followed him effortlessly through turns, no matter how complex. When Orange Blossom finished he tried to get her to stay out on the floor for another dance, but she insisted she needed to rest.

Shan worried, to look at her, the girl was in great shape, so he didn’t think she could really be all that tired. Maybe she just didn’t like dancing with him? Usually, because most guys either couldn’t dance or were terrible at it, girls kind of flocked around him wanting to dance and he had his pick. But this Raquel danced so well that he could easily imagine that she might be bored with him. There was just something about her… he really wanted to get to know her better. He noticed her red wristband indicating that she was too young to drink. “So are you a student or have you joined the workforce?”

“I work out in the triangle and take a couple of classes at UNC.”

“I’m a Tar Heel student too.”

“What are you studying?”

He shrugged diffidently, “Math.”

Ell had the impression he took a lot of pride in his major but didn’t want to sound like he was bragging. “Hey, that sounds hard.”

He wrinkled his nose, “Some of it’s pretty tough, but I like it, so it’s mostly fun to me.”

“What are you gonna do with a math degree when you’re done?”

“There’re lots of jobs in statistics and analysis and finance, but I’m hoping to stay in the ivory tower, teaching and trying to do innovative things.”

Ell grinned at him, “Sounds cool, you ready to dance again?”

Shan said, “Sure,” turning toward the floor while wondering whether he’d sounded too pompous with his “ivory tower” remark. Oh well, he mentally shrugged to himself, if she doesn’t like it, there’re a lot more fish in the sea. His dad had often said that to him in the past. But… there’s something about this girl…

After another fun dance they came back to their usual spot to find that Bridget was taking her turn out on the floor, freestyling with a young man there. Shan said, “Can I buy you a drink?”

Feeling guilty having a student buy her a drink, but reminding herself that this was how the game was played, Ell nodded, “Coke please?” She admired Shan as he headed to the bar. He looked older than the usual student and quite handsome in a rugged ropy kind of way. Could he be a grad student? She wondered, thinking that he certainly didn’t look like the prototypical math nerd.

Bridget came back and introduced “Raquel” to Ryan, the fellow she’d been dancing with. “What happened to Shan?”

“He’s at the bar.”

“Is not,” Shan’s voice said over her shoulder, “He’s back with the goods.” He set a Coke down in front of Ell.

“Thanks!” Ell said taking a sip and then introducing him to Ryan.

“Actually, Ryan’s my housemate.”

Bridget rolled her eyes, “Don’t tell me you guys are out as a team and we’ve just been picked up by a smooth talker and his wingman?”

Shan put his hands up in surrender, “Now, now. A man and his housemate go out in the evening and while he’s out enjoying a solo dance, a beautiful young woman starts dancing with him, even though she’s all the way across the floor. Merely to be polite he goes to meet the girl he’s been dancing with. His friend happens to innocently notice that the clogging girl has a beautiful friend. Completely an innocent series of events.”

Ell lowered an eyebrow, “Hmmm, sounds entirely too well rehearsed to me. What do you think Bridget?”

Bridget looked back and forth from Shan to Ryan, “I would have characterized it as, ‘Two young ladies go out intending to devastate the men of the town. Shortly after demonstrating their astonishing dancing skills they find they’ve attracted two hapless victims.’”

Shan and Ryan laughed, “A much more accurate depiction. No doubt that’s what just went down.” Ryan said.

Ell turned to Bridget, “Now that we’ve got them where we want them, what are we going to do with them?”

“Dance some more!”

This time when they got out on the floor, Shan said, “Do you swing dance?”

Ell nodded and he took her hand pumping gently to establish a slower step rhythm then beginning to twirl her around the floor.

Shan’s eyebrows rose. He’d been surprised at how well she’d followed his rapid clogging footwork, but the way she followed him through rapid turns and twirls astonished him. She followed effortlessly, never getting a cue wrong, never turning the wrong way. Her elegant, graceful form as she spun rapidly back and forth seemed more like a ballerina than an amateur dancing for fun.

“So what classes are you taking?” Shan asked when they’d returned to their drinks. He noticed that she was staring at her drink, “Is something wrong?”

“Somebody moved my drink,” Ell said, looking around. “Maybe they mixed it up with their own?” She carefully set it down and stuffed the napkin in the top of it so that she wouldn’t forget and take a sip. Steve frequently reminded her to be careful of her drink in public places but this was the first time that her precautions had ever recognized a change.

Shan looked at her drink, surprised she’d ruined it with the napkin just because it’d been moved. But maybe she thought someone had taken a sip? “Do you want me to get you another?”

“No thanks… I’m taking an astronomy and a biology class.”

“That’s a weird pair, what degree are you working toward?”

“I’m… not, actually. Just taking the classes because I’m interested.” She smiled, “Trying to better myself.”

Thinking that she sounded kinda aimless, Shan asked, “Where do you work?”

“Quantum Tech.”

Shan frowned, “Never heard of them, but that’s an interesting name. What do they make?”

“QT’s really small, they mostly do research. Tell me more about you. You don’t look like the prototypical nerdy mathematician?”

“Oho! I’ve been stereotyped! Just ‘cause a guy likes math, it doesn’t mean he can’t like sports too, you know?”

Ell lifted her chin in question, “What sport?”

“I like ‘em all, B-ball’s probably my favorite though.”

“Hmmm, I played a little basketball back in High School.”

Bridget and Ryan came back off the dance floor, “Hey you guys look awfully serious!”

Ell said, “I’ve been learning about Shan. He’s a Math major. What do you do Ryan?”

“Biomedical Engineering student.”

“You going to design the first successful artificial heart?”

“How did you know?” he grinned.

Ell grinned back, “You’re wearing your heart on your sleeve.”

They all had a laugh, but then Bridget finished her beer saying, “Well, some of us have to work in the morning.”

Ell turned to Shan, “It was good clogging with you. Thanks for the lesson.”

“Can I call you sometime?”

“Sure, I’d like that.”

As Ell rode home with Bridget she felt more peaceful. Shan seemed nice and it was kind of fun flirting with someone new. Maybe he couldn’t replace Roger or Phil, but perhaps someone else would. At least her love life didn’t seem as bleak; after all, she’d met someone interesting on her first foray with Bridget.

When she got home, her interest in the dark energy problem had returned and she worked on it until her usual 4AM bedtime while occasionally checking her wall screens which showed the Teecees huddling together under Goldy’s wings as a steady rain dripped down on them through the forest. Maybe we can show them how to build a shelter, she thought, surprised that they didn’t already know how.

***

Dressed as “Belle,” Ell trotted up the stairs of the Smith building on UNC’s campus. She’d opened the door when Allan, her AI, said, “You have a call from Dr. Kant Fladwami, the Presidential Science Advisor.”

Ell kept walking down the hall to the restroom. “Yes?”

“Hello Ms. Donsaii. I’m calling at the behest of the President to see if you have any ideas for dealing with the greenhouse related climate change? I realize this is a little outside your area of expertise, but we had a crazy suggestion that we vent CO into deep space through your ports. I personally think that would be a bad idea because I don’t think we should permanently lose that carbon and oxygen. However, we need some out of the box thinking. I don’t expect climate change is something you’ve been working on, but if you come up with any ideas?”

“We actually may have something that would have an impact but you’d have to deal with some more of those dread ‘economic upheavals.’”

“Well, we appreciate the slow release of your technologies so far. That has helped significantly with the economic disruptions to this point. Perhaps you’d do the same with whatever you are speaking of? What is it?”

“Oh, sorry we really aren’t even sure it will work yet. Can I get back to you in a week or two?”

“It’d sure help if I could give the President some idea what you are thinking. Some method to sequester CO perhaps?”

“No not sequestration. Sorry, I really don’t feel comfortable talking about it yet, but I will get back to you.”

“OK,” Fladwami said reluctantly.

Once Allan had disconnected, Ell stepped into one of the stalls in the bathroom and began removing “Belle.” The padded pants and platinum blond wig went into her nearly empty backpack along with the cheek pads. She pulled out some wet wipes and wiped the thick makeup off. Stepping out of the stall, she approached the mirrors and wiped off a few smudges she’d missed. She put on a baseball cap that covered much of her hair and she headed back out into the hall. She saw Steve from her security detail fidgeting in front of a bulletin board. Putting her head down so the bill of her cap shaded her face she headed into the linguistics faculty offices. An internet search had revealed that a Dr. Kira Piscova had written a paper on translation methodologies for unknown languages. It was a review of various methods used by linguists over the centuries when faced with languages that didn’t have living translators. Most of the examples pertained to written languages, but it seemed that it had been a long time since anyone had encountered a truly new language and so there really weren’t any experts available who had actually translated a new language.

There were scads of popular fiction stories in which people learned a language by pointing to objects, saying their own word for the object, then waiting for the speaker of the other language to use their word. In the situation confronting team Teecee at present, they couldn’t point to anything and say the word. However, if they could somehow substitute their new rocket for the old one they might be able to. The new rocket would arrive on TC3 next week but Ell could see no reason why they shouldn’t, to some degree get started on the translation problem now. After all they already had some recordings of the teecees talking.

Because Dr. Piscova’s office hours came right after Ell’s biology class it saved her a trip to campus, only requiring her to do the change out of the “Belle” disguise. Keeping the bill of her cap as low as possible Ell looked around and finally came to an office labeled with Piscova’s name. To her relief no students were currently in the office. She knocked on the doorframe.

Piscova looked up from her screen, “Come in.” She looked curiously at the slender young woman in the door. “Hi…” The student looked familiar, but Piscova would have sworn she hadn’t seen her in class. “Are you taking a class remotely?” Students who took courses online rarely came in to the office. If they took the class over the net, they tended to do everything over the net. The girl sat down in the chair that faced away from the door and took off her hat. “Oh!” Piscova covered her mouth, wide eyed. “Ms. Donsaii…”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Piscova frowned, “Are you…” taking a class, she’d been about to ask but it seemed ridiculous on the face of it. She turned fully in her chair. “How may I help you?”

“We need someone to translate a completely unknown language. We’re hoping you’d like the challenge… or know someone who would.”

Piscova narrowed her eyes. “Are you trying to say that you’ve found some unknown tribe somewhere? The world has no places untouched by civilization anymore.” Her eyes widened as she thought about what Donsaii was known for, “Wait, did you find an artifact out in space with writing on it?”

Donsaii shrugged, “I can’t really tell you more until you’ve signed a confidentiality agreement.”

Piscova frowned, “Wait this is some kind of secret? If I were to work on translation… what would I get out of it? It doesn’t sound like I’d even be allowed to publish?”

“Yes Ma’am, you’d be able to publish, we’d just want you to delay for up two years. We’d also be happy to pay for ‘consulting.’”

Piscova’s eye’s widened. No one had ever offered to pay her for linguistics consulting. “I’d have to check into consulting fees. Can I see the… what did you call it…? ‘Confidentiality agreement’?”

Ell left the building, hat low over her eyes again. One girl, climbing the steps when Ell came out, turned to stare but otherwise she seemed to go unrecognized. Piscova had agreed to check with her department head about any policies regarding consulting and call Ell that afternoon.

Chapter Eight

Dex saw a red glowing spot underneath the meteorite! Were the spirits who showed himrself and Syrdian how to climb the cliff sending another message and somehow it was coming out beneath the meteorite? Hie leaned hies head down to look closely. The red spot was on the ground beneath the meteorite, not on the meteorite itself though a red glow lit the underside of the meteorite. Hie tried to lean in to see the red spot and determine whether it was another picture but hie couldn’t see it because the meteorite blocked hies view.

Gingerly hie reached out and grasped the meteorite. Could hie move the meteorite without disturbing the glowing lines underneath it? Hie picked the meteorite up just a tiny bit and moved it farther away so hie could see the lines.

The glowing lines moved with the meteorite! It was as if they were hiding under it! Syrdian said, “Dex, what… what is happening?”

Dex shrugged hies wings as hie wondered why the lines would hide. They had seemed bold enough the first time, appearing over a huge area on the surface of the cliff. Hie lifted the meteorite slowly up away from the glowing spot under it. To hies astonishment, the glowing red area slowly enlarged as hie lifted the meteorite, growing from a small red splotch to a… a drawing… A small drawing, true but obviously a drawing, similar in color, detail and style to the drawing on the cliff wall, even though it was tiny.

Deciding to move the meteorite completely out of the way, Dex lifted it further, turning to put it aside. Hies wings trembled as the drawing enlarged further, then swung away from himr as Dex turned the meteorite. Hie moved the meteorite back and the drawing came back! Did the drawing emanate from his beautiful meteorite?

Dex had never heard or seen anything like it. The closest hie could come to an analogous event was the casting of shadows on the wall of the cave from the sun or a small fire. Moving an object that was casting a shadow, caused the shadow to move similarly and some dalins were talented at casting shadows with their hands that looked like animals, kind of like the glowing drawings. Dex looked momentarily up into the air, thinking that hie might see something up there that might be casting, well, not shadows, but light down to make the drawings. There was nothing up there.

While holding the meteorite still, Dex slowly reached under it and felt the edge of the glowing red drawing with a claw.

Dex dropped the meteorite when a glowing red line appeared on hies claw! As the meteorite fell and rolled away from himr, the drawing diminished in size down to a splotch, then shot away towards Dex and disappeared. Dex danced away from it so that the red spot didn’t touch himr.

Dex stood staring, wings extended, hearts pounding, breath pouring through himr and whistling out hies vent. Hie heard a rustling which hie distantly recognized to be Syrdian running into the forest. Hie saw a faint red glow on one of the watery clear spots on the meteorite and bent to look at it. Hie picked up a nearby twig and reached gingerly to touch the clear spot with the twig. As hie did the tip of the twig flashed red also!

Dex found himrself a couple of wing beats away still staring at the meteorite which appeared as harmless as ever. Walking gingerly back over hie examined the twig hie’d dropped. It appeared normal. Dex turned to hies own claw which had turned red and studied it. It also appeared unchanged. Picking up the twig again hie put it in front of the clear spot and watched it turn red, then backed it away, seeing it go from one bright spot to a few lines across the twig as hie pulled it away.

Finally hie reached out and picked up the meteorite, lifting it away and pointing the clear spot back at the ground. Trembling, hie saw the picture zoom in from the side and appear on the ground right below the clear spot. Hie could tell it was showing one of its drawn pictures, but the image was distorted by pebbles, twigs and grass. Gently hie set it back down then cleared a spot, smoothing the dirt.

Picking up the meteorite, Dex gingerly moved it over the smoothed area. The glowing red lines clearly showed a picture now. What was it? Hie tilted hies head back and forth studying it. It looked like it showed a forked stick, either stuck in the ground, or a cut off sapling. Or was it an entire tree? A string, or maybe a rope, went up through the fork and back down to hold the end of a much larger stick, or maybe a log up off the ground.

The picture changed. What was that? Oh! Hie recognized the western horizon by the outline of Wayvern mountain. The big red spot must be the sun. Suddenly the sun appeared closer to the horizon, then halfway behind the horizon, then gone and all the lines dimmed. Maybe the pictures were trying to show night time?

The picture of the forked stick with the string reappeared with the glowing lines dimmer. Hie saw that the other end of the string was tied to a trigger like hie used on hies bent sapling snares. That trigger was attached to a noose suspended over… oh a trail. The next picture appeared showing an animal on the trail. The animal looked like a burrower. The picture changed so that the animal had its head entering the noose of the snare. The next picture showed that the log or heavy stick had fallen, pulling the noose tight around the animal and lifting it into the air.

With a sense of sudden dawning, Dex realized it was simply showing himr how to use a weight instead of a sprung sapling for hies snares. It looked like it might also be telling himr to use them at night on trails?

The pictures had started over. Dex wondered why a weight instead of a sprung sapling? As hie stared at the picture hie realized it showed the boles of trees. Oh! Its showing snares in the forest! There usually aren’t any saplings in the right places here underneath the forest canopy, but there are a lot of dead branches I could use for weights! Dex looked around, it was getting dark but maybe hie could put out one snare? Working quickly, Dex set up a snare powered by a weight along a small game trail. Hie had to finish setting it in the darkness mostly by feel.

When Dex returned to the campsite hie was pleased to see that Syrdian had returned, cleared an area and started a fire. Four tubers they had dug up earlier in the day were roasting over the fire. The meteor lay quietly where Dex left it, no glowing red to be seen. “Are you OK Dex?” Syrdian said quietly.

“Yes. Thank you for making dinner.”

“You’re welcome, though I wish some flyers had attacked us today. I’m hungry for some meat… Were you attacked by the glowing red lines earlier?”

“No. This is hard to believe, but the red lines seem to… come out of the meteor. Once I held the meteor correctly, the lines made pictures like they did that night at the cliff. The pictures seemed to be telling me to make a new kind of snare and put it out at night in the forest.”

“At night? Aren’t the animals sleeping then?”

Dex shrugged hies wings, “Maybe not.”

Syrdian tilted hies head, “Maybe some hunt at night like the taklor.”

Dex tilted hies own head as hie considered. The taklor was a hunting flyer, smaller than the talor, that mostly hunted at night. It had large eyes and seemed to track prey mostly by infrared. Watching taklors attack hot rocks thrown out into the night in front of the cave was a popular pastime for young dalin. It irritated the grown dalin who had to send the youth out to get more rocks the next day. “Maybe, though the drawings showed a burrower caught in the trap.”

Dex and Syrdian ate the unsatisfying tubers and crouched down to sleep.

In the night Dex woke to a loud hissing sound. The fire was out, so hie couldn’t see much except the infrared glow where it had been. No! There was a bright red glowing spot in the air over where the meteorite had been lying! Wings quivering hie poked the fire with a stick and looked around. Behind himr hie saw a large infrared splotch!

Dex grabbed one of their pointed wooden staves with one hand, two pieces of fire wood in the other and leapt to the other side of the fire. Syrdian said, “What?! What?!”

Dex said, “Come over here!” I think a forest beast is approaching on that side of the fire.”

Syrdian scrambled around to Dex’s side but, to Dex’s dismay, failed to bring hies pointed staff. Dex gave Syrdian the pieces of firewood, “Try to start the fire back up!”

Syrdian crouched to poke the fire up. Dex peered into the darkness at the large infrared splotch. Suddenly a red glowing dot appeared in the middle of the infrared splotch, then it spread forming horizontal glowing lines covering a large animal, obviously a predator from the shape of its mouthparts. The eyes seemed large. Its head had drawn up and back in reaction to the red lines.

For a moment the animal looked like it would back away into the forest but then it suddenly began to rush forward…

Dex’s wings lifted and hie could feel Syrdian’s doing the same, though even if both of them could have flown there was little free space to fly in inside the forest. Hie gripped hies staff with trembling hands and pointed it with a sinking feeling…

Suddenly the lines outlining the predator coalesced down to two brilliant spots centered on its eyes…

With a howling sound the predator turned its head and tore away into the forest…

The fire rising up from Syrdian’s efforts showed Dex the meteorite standing there on its bottom end like it had been when it first landed in the meadow. Hie looked down, its little legs were out. The glowing redness that hie’d seen when hie’d first woken was gone now, but hie had no doubt that it had come from the clear spot from which the glowing red lines emanated.

Syrdian’s arms crept tremblingly around Dex. Hie cast an arm back around Syrdian, then folded a wing around himr too. Syrdian whispered, “What happened?”

Dex said, “I’m not sure. I think the meteorite hissed to warn us of the predator… Then it shone the little flame that makes the red lines into the predator’s eyes to drive it away. Maybe? But I’m not sure that’s what happened.”

“When did you put it up on its little legs?”

“I didn’t,” Dex said with an awed tone.

“Do you think… that it put itself up on its legs?”

“I think it’s very powerful. Who knows what it can and can’t do? But if it drove away that predator, I’m glad it seems to be on our side… Let’s not anger it.”

“How do we… not… anger it?”

“I don’t know.” Dex said quietly.

***

Ell settled back, trembling slightly in reaction. When Allan had first drawn her attention to a large infrared object approaching the Teecees, she had thought that surely they would sense its approach somehow. As it came closer and closer and the Teecees continued sleeping, she became more and more concerned. At first she thought she had no way to sound the alarm but then she thought of the attitude jets and the loud hissing noise they made. Using them to right the rocket and set it on its legs had seemed inspired, not only waking the Teecees but positioning the cameras for a better view, especially when she thought to paint the approaching animal with the laser. But the better view showed her the size and long pointed teeth of what had to be a very large predator. It looked fully capable of taking on both Goldy and Silver. Despite the low light cameras she couldn’t see the Teecees well in the deep dark of the forest but the way they scrambled to her side of the fire didn’t give her the feel that they were confident about dealing with such a predator. When it started to rush toward them she’d had Allan turn the laser into the predator’s eyes.

Only after the predator had bolted back away into the forest did she think that using the laser on high power might have provided the Teecees with some food. Perhaps not too. The laser was powerful enough to ablate tiny bits of rocks for spectroscopy, but it would take quite a while to burn through water laden flesh down to a vital organ, especially if you didn’t know where the organ in question was located. And if the flesh in question was moving.

As the Teecees settled back down, crouching by their fire, Ell slowly relaxed. Eventually she continued the calculations she’d been doing for Roger’s steam engines that were to be powered by heat from the sun.

***

Syrdian awakened with the brightening light in the morning to find the fire stoked up but Dex gone. Hie stood and looked about without seeing Dex. With hunger pangs gnawing and no prospect of food, Syrdian warily left the camp to go down to the stream they’d been paralleling. Water would quench hies thirst and fill hies stomach temporarily. A little ways out of camp hie encountered Dex returning with a full water skin and an odd looking animal with large eyes. Syrdian stared, “What’s that?”

“Apparently some kind of forest animal of the night. It crept into the snare that the red lines said to build and put out at night. If you’ll notice it has big eyes like the taklor’s do.  Hope it’s tasty.”

Syrdian dipped hies head, “As hungry as I am, anything would be tasty this morning.”

As they ate the, tasty as predicted, night animal. Syrdian said, “You were right about climbing the mountain. It isn’t as hot up here, but it’s getting harder to breath. The air just pours through me when we’re hiking these days.”

Dex said, “Maybe we should start looking for some kind of shelter to live in and set up a camp for the summer.”

“Do you think we can find a cave?”

Dex shrugged hies wings. “I don’t know. They aren’t very common but maybe? Next time we reach a clearing, I could fly around and scout?”

***

Kira Piscova’s AI said “Ms. Donsaii is returning your call.”

Piscova said, “Hello, Ms. Donsaii?”

“Yes, Dr. Piscova. Were you able to work out the issues regarding consulting fees and non-disclosure?”

“Um, yes. I can sign the agreement at your convenience and the consulting fee you’ve offered is quite generous. Thank you.”

“Do you have a PGR equipped AI yet?”

“Sorry, no. I don’t really keep up with the latest tech. Even though everyone tells me it’s the greatest, what I have now works fine for my needs.”

“Well we’d like to outfit you with a high end PGR connected AI, both to help you with analysis and to make sure none of the data we provide you goes astray. Could you drop by D5R and we could fit you up and install your AI’s personality on the new headband?”

“Okaay.”

“Then we could talk about exactly what it is that we need your help with?”

“Sure.” Piscova signed off, wondering exactly what she would be doing for them…

***

In Ell’s ear, Allan said, “Presidential science advisor Fladwami is returning your call.”

Ell put up a finger asking Emma to wait a moment, “Put him on. Dr. Fladwami?”

“Yes Ms. Donsaii?’

“I was calling back as you requested regarding CO emissions. We, here at Quantum Tech, think we may have a partial solution.”

“That’s great! We’re having a conference on greenhouse gas emission reduction next week with a lot of the big players in the auto and energy industries represented. Do you think you could come to D.C. and make a presentation regarding your ideas at the conference?”

After a pause Ell said, “Sure… I’ll probably have Dr. Emmerit make the presentation though. It’s mostly his idea.”

“You’ll be there too though, right?”

“I can be.”

“We’d really appreciate it.”

Ell disconnected, bemused to realize that Fladwami had never asked what the tech actually was. For a moment she wondered if she should give him some warning, but eventually shrugged and turned back to Emma.

***

Piscova looked askance at her new AI headband. Its high end design didn’t exactly fit her eclectic image. However, the actual computer they’d given her for the AI to reside in shocked her. It wasn’t high end, it was very high end. She couldn’t figure out why she would need such an AI for translation, but she wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. The young man who’d been fitting her said, “Is it OK?”

Kira shook herself, “Sure, what next?”

“I’m to take you to see Ell.”

Surprised by his casual reference to Ms. Donsaii by her first name, Piscova said, “OK.”

When they arrived in a conference room Donsaii looked up saying, “Oh, Hi Dr. Piscova. Come in!”

“Thank you.” She raised an eyebrow, “Do I finally get to find out what this is about?”

“Yes Ma’am. First I’d like to introduce you to the team you’re joining.” She was introduced to an astronomer from UNC and a biologist from NC State as well as some employees of “Quantum Tech,” apparently a subsidiary of D5R. “As to what this is about, currently we’re observing some intelligent aliens on the third planet of the star Tau Ceti. We can hear them communicating acoustically, but we aren’t having much luck understanding the sounds.”

Piscova laughed, “Sure you are.” She looked around at them. “No, really, what’s this about?” She leaned back, expecting the others to be disappointed that she hadn’t fallen for their little joke. Instead, they all stared at her seriously.

“Allan,” Donsaii said, “brighten the display so we can see the Teecees.”

The screens on the wall of the conference room brightened up and Kira saw some very strange beings there. The images looked like low light photography, devoid of color information. The creatures looked somewhat like perched birds, wings up top, large clawed feet under, bizarre tiny heads turned back over one wing, and, front limbs that looked like a cross between birds’ feet and human hands. Her eyes narrowed, they didn’t seem to be breathing.

Donsaii then said, “Now please play a recording of the Teecees communication with one another.”

The screen jumped to a day lit picture of the creatures about a fire on which they were roasting something on a stick. Noise issued from the speakers, consisting of high pitched tweedling. Piscova stared for a moment then looked around at the group, “I’m not sure if this is some kind of joke, but these supposed aliens aren’t breathing. If you aren’t breathing, it’s pretty hard to stay alive, much less speak.”

Wheat, the biologist from NC State said, “That’s a quick pick up.” He grinned, “Actually, the first time I saw video from TC3, I thought it was a trailer from a new movie, so I’m familiar with how you feel. However, I’ve watched a number of, well we call them dissections, but actually they were just the Teecees ‘cleaning’ their catch prior to cooking it. But, anyway, I think I’ve come to understand how their respiratory system works.”

Glancing at Piscova again, he then looked around at the others, “This is new to the rest of the group too.” Addressing the group as a whole he said. “At first I was puzzled about the mechanics of their respiratory process. We pull air into our lungs with our diaphragms. The diaphragm is essentially a large muscular sheet that pulls downward, sucking air into the chest cavity and lungs. When it does so, it pushes the contents of the abdomen downward, thus when you take a deep breath, your stomach moves outward. But the Teecees seem to have ribs around their entire body cavity so their abdomen can’t expand to accept the displacement of volume from their chest.” He looked around to be sure everyone seemed to be tracking what he’d said. “I’ve told you that I thought they pull air in through that hole at the base of the neck and exhaust it through the vent on the lower chest. And, as Dr. Piscova notes, the way they talk makes it seem like that airflow is pretty continuous. From one of the dissections yesterday, I now believe that they have two lungs, like we do, but with a ‘diaphragm’ between them, rather than below both of them like ours is. Instead of pushing the abdominal contents down like our diaphragm does, theirs pulls air into the left lung while squeezing the right lung and pulls air into the right lung while squeezing the left lung. Thus airflow into the intake and out the vent is almost continuous. Something akin to vocal cords in the vent makes the continuous sound of their speech.” He looked around again, “I think it’s very elegant and efficient.”

Kira looked around at the group. They all appeared to be taking this completely seriously. Stifling a hysterical laugh she turned back to look at the screens where the “Teecees” were gesticulating. She closed her eyes briefly, but when she opened them everything had stayed the same. “Really?!” she asked.

They all nodded solemnly.

***

Dex and Syrdian broke out of the forest into an enormous meadow. It sloped down on one side to the stream they’d been paralleling as they hiked these higher altitudes. Like the meadow they’d started their climb from, it had some large rocks protruding from it near the upper end. “This looks like a good place to hunt.” Syrdian said, then hies wings sagged remembering that hie couldn’t hunt a meadow since hie couldn’t fly. Hie lifted hies wing to look at the sutured lacerations. “Dex, I think the wounds in my wing are healing. Do you think I could try flying?”

Dex looked at Syrdian with some surprise. Why would hie think that I’d know? Hie stepped over closer and peered at the wounds, then gently tugged on them. The sutures were a little loose but the wound edges did seem to be stuck to one another by themselves now. “Does it hurt when I pull on the wound?” Hie tugged again.

“It aches a little.”

Dex tilted hies head, “I think you should wait until it doesn’t hurt, you don’t want to rip them open again.”

To Dex’s surprise, Syrdian dipped hies head in acceptance, “OK.”

“I think I should look for a place for us to live near here. A permanent camp for the summer, I mean. Could you see if you can catch a swimmer from the stream? I’m starving.”

“Great idea!” Syrdian said with enthusiasm because hie desperately wanted to contribute and so far catching swimmers had been the one thing hie knew more about than Dex.

Dex beat into the air, surprised at how much harder it had gotten to fly as they climbed the mountain. No wonder the tribe preferred to fly a long distance to the south rather than a short distance up the mountain for the summer. Spending the summer flying in this thin air was going to be trying.

Wistfully, Syrdian watched Dex fly away. Syrdian felt melancholy, both for hies lost ability to fly, though hie could see that it was a struggle at this altitude, but also for Dex. Dex, whom Syrdian had never given a second thought to in days gone by. Dex, who daily seemed to surprise Syrdian with new capabilities.

Syrdian found himrself admiring Dex; not only for hies ability to adapt to a situation which would have led to Syrdian’s death if Dex hadn’t been there, but also because Dex was a handsome dalin. Why hadn’t Syrdian ever seen it before…? Just because his rank had been low?! Syrdian turned to the stream, happy to note that it had several large pools visible along the side of the meadow.

Dex flew a large circle around the enormous clearing, hoping that hie might see a cave of some sort. The only rocks hie saw were the ones in the clearing and the ones bordering the stream. Hie thought about making another, even larger circle, but with breath whistling through himr, decided to stop and look more carefully at the rock outcropping in the meadow first. Hie circled it as hie came in to land. As hie looked at it hie got the impression that one huge rock had rolled down from the rocky areas that could be seen high on the mountain above.  It had then broken into two huge cracked rocks that had settled into the dirt of the meadow. The larger split separating them was a little wider than Dex’s wingspan. Dex walked around the rocks hoping for an unseen recess that could act as a cave but nothing like that appeared. Maybe they could build a roof over the big split and make their own cave? Hie turned to walk down to the stream, hoping that Syrdian had a swimmer for dinner.

Approaching the stream, hie saw Syrdian sitting on a large rock overhanging a pool with a fiberlin string in hies hand. “Any luck?”

Syrdian’s head turned to put fore eyes on Dex. Hie whispered, “Yes, but speak quietly and I may have another. Dex curiously walked out onto the rock but Syrdian hissed, “Don’t show yourself over the edge, it’ll spook the swimmer.”

Dex stopped, watching curiously. The fiberlin held loosely in Syrdian’s hand started to move, the kinks in it from being wound on a stick pulled slowly straight. Suddenly Syrdian straightened from hies crouch, raising an arm over hies head and jerking the fiberlin straight. A moderately large swimmer flew up out of the water and Syrdian kept rapidly pulling it up, hand over hand with the fiberlin. It flew up onto the rock and Syrdian pinned it with a foot, then reached down with hies knife to stab into the brain at the base of the neck.

“Way to go!” Dex exclaimed, admiring the large swimmer. “That’ll make a good dinner!”

Syrdian smiled happily at Dex. “Did you find us a cave?”

“No. I’ve been trying to figure out how we might build a shelter amongst those big rocks up in the meadow.”

Syrdian let hies wings sag sadly, waving hies head in disappointment, “I guess I just have to do everything,” hie sighed.

Dex’s head rose indignantly up and back. After all I’ve done! Then hie realized that Syrdian’s wings were quivering with laughter.

Syrdian said, “Behind you.”

Dex’s back eyes picked up the large shadowed area before hie turned hies fore eyes to see the shallow cave cut back under the rocky bank hie’d just walked down. Grinning, hie turned and beat a wingful of air at Syrdian. “Way to go again. Dinner and a place to stay. A good day’s work I’d say.”

Syrdian stretched, “Ah yes, and now I’m all tired out. Perhaps you’d fetch some firewood while I rest up?”

Dex laughed and sent another wingful of air Syrdian’s way. “OK.” Hie beat back into the air and flew to the verge looking for deadfall.

When Dex returned to the cave by the stream, Syrdian had broken down the swimmer Dex’d watched Syrdian catch, as well as two smaller ones that hie’d apparently caught before Dex had arrived. Dex looked around. “Looks like I should get some green sticks to cook with. Anything else?”

“More firewood.”

***

Dr. Fladwami felt quite proud of the conference he’d arranged at President Flood’s direction. The companies he’d invited had presented a number of strategies that they were proposing to use to further diminish greenhouse gas creation or to increase removal of the gasses from the atmosphere.

One thing that had surprised him was how many of the new strategies presented depended to some extent on the new ports created by Donsaii’s company D5R. This included plans for the capture of methane, to burn it for energy instead of allowing its release. One company actually did believe that each cow could be fitted with a flatus catching port. Fladwami’s eyebrows had risen at this proposal and he still seriously doubted that cattle would tolerate the device they had proposed but, he wasn’t sure. The transportation industries all had plans to deliver electricity to motors in cars, trucks, boats, ships, airplanes and helicopters directly via wires passed through ports. Of course that only passed the CO problem to the power companies. Admittedly, the big power companies were more efficient and produced less CO than a hydrocarbon burning motor in each vehicle did, but there would still be a lot of COproduction going on.

However, ports were even going to figure in carbon sequestration projects. Weighted ports dropped into deep-sea formations could inject COinto basalt where COhydrates would sink, keeping them from escaping.

Well, with the exception of those wind and water powered projects. Wind and water power were nice, but expensive and couldn’t provide a very large percentage of the energy that we use, so Fladwami didn’t feel very enthusiastic about them. The administration would support them because of politics but not because they believed they would significantly change things.

Fladwami was looking forward to the next talk though. It was to be given by Donsaii’s associate Emmerit. Fladwami wondered whether they were going to run with his suggestion to export COto space somehow. If so, he hoped that they had a plan to store it somehow. Then if needed someday, the carbon and oxygen somehow could be retrieved to earth?

Emmerit and the young girl assisting him had wheeled a small table to the front of the room and put it up on the podium before this session. It had some coiled piping on each side of what looked like some kind of pump hooked up to an electric motor. He wondered what the device could show that couldn’t be more easily demonstrated with a few slides.

The previous speaker left the podium and the moderator introduced Emmerit. As he approached, he pushed the table up beside the podium where everyone in the small auditorium could see it, then turned to the microphone. “We appreciate the invitation to present our own contribution to the modification of the energy-COaxis. Since this is the last talk of the session you should all be able to come up and examine this… apparatus after I’m done speaking. It is a fairly simple and pretty crude ‘proof of concept’ device. We are certain significant improvements can be made by qualified engineers. Essentially on your left you see a tubing coil. What you can’t see is that inside that coil is an interior coil that is connected via small ports to a black tube we’ve placed in a near solar orbit. There, the high incidence of solar radiation will maintain the temperature of a black body at about 315 degrees Centigrade. That’s about 650 degrees Fahrenheit for those of you more comfortable with that system. A ‘heat transfer fluid’ can be circulated through the solar tube then back through the tube here.” He turned a switch, “I’m initiating pumping now. The outer tube here is filled with water. That water is now being converted to steam by the heat from the transfer fluid and…” he pointed to the pump/motor, “beginning to turn this small steam turbine which in turn is turning this generator.”

Fladwami sat up straighter, realizing that he’d had it backwards. He could see it beginning to spin. It wasn’t a motor to turn a pump. It was a generator being turned by a turbine!

Emmerit continued. “Thus, this device is generating electricity from ‘solar energy’ without producing any CO Additionally, rather than exhausting the spent steam out where it would heat the planet, that steam is then circulating into this tubing over here on your right. This second tubing has a tube in it through which a low temperature heat transfer fluid is being pumped. This second fluid goes through a finned pipe out in ‘deep space’ beyond most of the asteroids. We’ve chosen that orbit because a black body there receives enough solar radiation to maintain a temperature of about minus 100 Centigrade. That’s warm enough that our low temperature heat transfer fluid doesn’t freeze even if we aren’t pumping fluid through the pipe. But it’s still cold enough to quickly re-condense the steam into water to be recirculated back to the engine.”

Emmerit looked back up at the audience. “This little demonstration model is pretty inefficient, but it still generates about five kilowatts. Ideally it should be able to produce nearly ten times that.” He shrugged, “It needs a good engineer to optimize it, especially the fluid flows. However, even poorly optimized, it is producing five kilowatts without producing COor heat.

“I’m sure you recognize that electrical generation is only one possible use. The shaft from the steam engine could be used to directly drive wheels or otherwise power machines directly.

“Also, of course, heat transfer could be used directly to heat or cool homes and buildings…” Emmerit stopped speaking as the initially stunned audience broke into pandemonium. Some people were cheering. Some were angrily protesting something they could see would break their companies and destroy their livelihoods. Many were rushing the exits, presumably to call their corporate headquarters.

Fladwami stood uncertainly. After a day and a half of presentations on small incremental improvements in the way we use fossil fuels to generate power and energy with slightly diminished productions of greenhouse gasses… Donsaii’s group was going to produce power, heating and cooling, without using fossil fuels at all. Not only weren’t they going to produce greenhouse gasses doing it, but they were going to do it without producing excess heat! He walked down toward the front, wanting to speak to Emmerit. For a moment he wondered where Donsaii was, she’d promised him she’d be here.

Damn! The girl who’d been helping Emmerit wheel things in and set them up was Donsaii! She had been wearing a baseball cap but her reddish blond hair could be seen as a fringe sticking out from under it and he should have recognized her. She just looked so young! The crowd had gathered around Emmerit, apparently too excited to recognize Donsaii either. He walked over to where she bemusedly watched Emmerit trying to handle the crowd of excited people. “Hello, Ms. Donsaii. I’m Kant Fladwami, thank you for coming. I’m reminded of my predecessor Chip Horton’s admonition that I should try to stay abreast of what you are doing at all times. I cannot believe that, after his warning, I still failed to ask you what you were going to present to us today.”

“Well, in retrospect it seems like a pretty obvious extension of the use of port technology. But like many brilliant ideas it only seems obvious now that Dr. Emmerit realized it could be done. He’s licensing the technology to ‘ET Resources’ who plans to place the heat transfer tubes into near solar and deep space orbits and then sell the “heat” or the “cold” to users here on Earth.”

Fladwami shook his head. “You realize that you made most of the other talks at this conference irrelevant?”

“Oh, no sir. It is going to take quite a while to roll this tech out and we’ll need those things in the meantime.”

Fladwami’s eyes narrowed, “Why would it take quite a while? It seems to use ports, which you have well worked out and heat transfer fluids which are an established technology. The steam turbine technology is very mature once you’ve created the steam, and pumping the hot or cold fluid through air conditioning coils shouldn’t take much engineering.”

“Ah. Because it’s going to destroy the petroleum industry and I think we should let them down easy. As with the other new technologies resulting from ports, I think it should be released slowly. I’m hoping President Flood’s administration will provide us with an extension on the patent, like President Teller’s people did for ports themselves—so that our investors will be willing to release it slowly?”

Fladwami tilted his head. “Damn, you’re right. I should have considered the economic implications of rapidly releasing this myself. I’ll talk to the president.”

She tilted her head as well, “You might want to also do a press release on the low tempo rollout to slow the run on petroleum stocks?”

Fladwami’s eyes widened, “Crap! There are reporters and bloggers here who’ve probably put this out on the net already! I’d better call the President now.” He turned and began trotting out of the auditorium. He called back over a shoulder, “Sorry to leave you so suddenly!”

Chapter Nine

Dex wearily flew back to camp. Hie’d unsuccessfully stooped on several burrowers. At this altitude, beating back into the air after a miss felt exhausting, though hie kept telling himrself it couldn’t really be that bad. The snares hie’d put out hadn’t produced, and hie couldn’t imagine why. Hie’d caught several animals at those locations a while back but after a while they just stopped catching anything. Hie’d even gone out into the forest with hies “flyer swatter” but the little flyers that attacked didn’t seem to live this high on the mountain. Swatting flyers that weren’t attacking never seemed to work, they easily avoided himr. Maybe Syrdian caught some swimmers? As hie coasted in over the meadow hie saw that a family of zornits had taken up residence in the meadow. Zornits were larger cousins of the zornic they’d encountered in the forest. Omnivorous, but leaning toward eating mostly meadow vegetation they could be bad news. Too big to kill, dangerous to attack and territorial to a fault, they were likely to drive away some of the smaller prey.

Dex landed just above the cave and looked back at the zornits. Hies wings drooped. Hie looked down at the camp. An empty handed Syrdian looked back up at himr. “No luck?”

Syrdian shook hies head. “I’ve caught all the swimmers in the nearby parts of the stream. Maybe I could teach you how to catch them and you could fly farther up than I can hike?”

Dex dipped hies head yes. “Some zornits have moved into the meadow. I think we should try to chase them away.”

Syrdian’s wings drooped also, “I’m not sure we could. Maybe we need to move to a new area? Then you could put your snares on new paths? I could try a fresh section of stream?”

Dex’s head rose. Put the snares on different paths? What a great idea, maybe I’ve just caught all the animals that use the paths I’ve got the snares on. “I’m going to go move some snares.”

“OK, I found a big nodule of flint. Do you know anything about making blades?”

Dex shrugged, “Not much.”

“I’m going to try making a knife. I’ve re-flaked mine a couple of times and they’re getting small.”

“Good luck,” Dex said, turning back out to the meadow and hies traps. Syrdian looked thinner. Dex found himrself liking Syrdian more and more, no longer a distant infatuation, but now what hie thought of as true love. To hies horror, just as hie fell in love, Syrdian seemed to be wasting away because Dex couldn’t provide enough food high up here on the mountain.

Just before hie took off, Dex noticed that hies meteor was standing erect on the top of the bank above their cave. For a moment hie wondered why Syrdian had put it there, but then hie shrugged and took off to move hies snares.

***

Wall Street Journal—The Presidential Conference on Global Warning was stunned today by an announcement from D5R, the technology startup responsible for the ports that saved the space station and deflected Comet Hearth-Daster. As if the ports themselves weren’t going to result in enough changes to our world, D5R revealed plans to provide very cheap solar power. Oil stocks have plummeted…

Ell walked into Five Eighteen West restaurant in Raleigh and looked around for Gordon but didn’t see him. As she approached the hostess stand the woman’s eyes widened. “Good evening Ms. Donsaii. How may we help you?”

“I’m meeting a Gordon Speight. Is he here yet?”

“Oh my, yes!” She grinned, “Having him here has caused quite an uproar. Having you here at the same time is really going to…” She ran down.

Ell thought the girl would go cross-eyed pondering it. “Can you take me to him?”

“Oh! Yes, sorry. This way please.”

They went up the stairs and around a corner. Ell looked around as they entered the room. She didn’t see a table with only one person at it? Then she tracked the direction the hostess was heading and realized that Gordon was sitting at a table for four that had girls in each of the other three seats!”

The hostess approached Gordon and said, “Mr. Speight, Ms. Donsaii says she’s here to meet you?”

“Yes, yes!” Gordon bounded to his feet. “Ell, how are you?” He looked down at the girls at his table, “Ladies, it’s been nice meeting you. I need some time to myself now, OK?”

With moues of disappointment the young ladies slowly got up and moved away, one of them giving Gordon a desperate looking peck on the cheek before she departed. Another said “We love you!”

They didn’t go too far. It turned out they had a table nearby. Gordon said, “Man, Velos fans seem to be everywhere nowadays! I guess you’d know what dealing with fans is like though, huh?”

Ell shrugged and sat, reflecting that in her experience women seemed to be much more aggressive in their pursuit of famous people than men were. She’d certainly never had three men approach her in a restaurant and sit down with her. “Are they going to the concert tonight?”

He grinned, “Yeah, and pretty pumped to have run into me at dinner.”

He glanced at them so Ell did too. All three were still looking his way. As Ell watched, one of them blew Gordon a kiss. Ell said, “They’re pretty assertive. Do you run into a lot of girls who are so aggressive?”

Gordon shrugged, “More and more, yeah.”

Their waiter arrived and interrupted their conversation with questions about their dinner. After he departed Gordon turned the talk to Ell and what was happening in her life. The dinner was excellent and they enjoyed themselves but the three girls came back over during dessert to ask Gordon for autographs. Ell was torn when he acquiesced, both disappointed because he interrupted his time with her to sign them, and proud that he hadn’t been rude like the Olympic sprinter Michael Fentis had been to Ell years ago.

At the auditorium Ell entered with Gordon through the “artist’s entrance,” surprised at the way people kowtowed to him. Gordon introduced her to his business manager and a sound man that he’d had train with Vic. Then there were some other musicians that Velos had hired to “round out” their sound. Ell and Gordon didn’t really have any more time to talk as Velos prepped itself for the show.

Ell put on her ball cap and went out into the audience to take in the show. She stood in the shadows, tapping a foot, enthralled by the music and happy that the few people that recognized her moved on without making a big deal of it. Velos sounded good, though not as good as the recordings they’d made at Vic’s which had been climbing the charts. The crowd went crazy when they played their hits.

Gordon had been fun at dinner, and she kept rationalizing the girls at his table. He needed to be good to his fans after all. As an entertainer, fans were his lifeblood. But Ell felt put off by the whole thing. She wasn’t sure she was ready to come in second to his fans—if her relationship with Gordon developed further could she take it?

She wondered if these issues afflicted the relationships of many famous people. Since getting into music Gordon had pretty much ignored Ell’s alter ego and his old friend “Belle.” He had returned her the money “Belle’s aunt” had loaned him to jump start his career. As she thought about it she realized she felt uncomfortable with the way he seemed fascinated with the famous “Ell,” but uninterested in the ordinary “Belle.”

On the other hand, she wondered if it was fair to be hurt because he wasn’t as interested in the version of herself that she had purposely made less attractive? Her head swam just considering all the ramifications.

Over the break Ell went back to Gordon’s dressing room. When she pushed the door open she found the dressing room packed with fans carrying VIP passes. Ell’s eyes narrowed, all but one of the “fans” were attractive young girls. The three girls from dinner were among the crowd gathered around Gordon. As she watched one of them threw her arms around him, crushing her body against his and kissing him on the lips! He broke the kiss after a moment, looked around the dressing room, saw Ell and disentangled himself. “Ell!” he called, “Come have some of the goodies!” He waved at a large table set with hors d’oeuvres.

Reluctantly Ell entered the room and made her way to the table. Gordon chattered brightly with the girls gathered around him while she filled a little plate. She stepped closer to Gordon who put his arm out, “Stancil!” he called to Velos’ manager, “Get a picture of me with Ell.” He put an arm over her shoulders, saying, “Are you going to dance during the second set?”

Ell swallowed, smiled for the picture, then shook her head.

“Aw, come on. It’ll make you even more famous.”

Ell grinned at him, “I’m already more famous than I want to be.”

Gordon’s eyebrows rose, “You can never be too famous! Stancil, get a picture with all my fans here!”

Ell slipped out from under Gordon’s arm as the rest of the girls crowded in for the picture. As she squeezed out the door a last glance showed her another of the girls from dinner plastered to Gordon’s side.

Tears trickled down Ell’s cheeks during the ride back home. Recognizing that many men would be intimidated by her success, she had been thinking of Gordon as someone so successful that he wouldn’t be affected that way.

He’d seemed like someone she could love but… not any more. Would she ever find someone? Someone not just chasing her for her fame or money? Someone undaunted by her fame? Someone who loved her for herself, unaffected by her fame and reputation?

***

Dex woke hungry. Hie and Syrdian had collected and eaten a few edible plants the night before, but plants alone would not sustain them. Hie climbed up the bank to where the meteor stood. Again hie wondered why Syrdian had put it up there. Though hie liked the thought of it up there, watching over them at night.

Hie looked out over the clearing, the zornits were nearby, grazing. Hie looked at them speculatively. Even a little one would feed Syrdian and himself for hands of days. But dalins usually hunted large animals by dropping onto them with knives. Zornits were awfully big for that method. Dex’d never heard of anyone hunting zornits by any means except driving them over cliffs. That was difficult because they were said to be pretty wary of a precipice and cliffs that were tall enough weren’t very common. Trying to attack a zornit with a knife could get you killed. A zornit’s dorsal limbs were somewhat dangerous, the zornits used them to drive away small flyers, but even if you braved the dorsal limbs and did land on a zornit’s back it would promptly roll. This forced you to either lift back off or be crushed. Hie didn’t think the steep bank at the edge of the stream would hurt a zornit, even if hie did manage to drive them over it somehow.

Dex shrugged hies wings and flew out to check the snares hie’d set the night before.

Syrdian looked up at the sound of Dex returning. His wing beats sounded… happier, more alive. Sure enough when hie coasted down over the bank and dropped in beside the cave hie had hies hands full of small game. They would eat well this morning at least. Syrdian excitedly cast arms and wings around Dex, “Thank you! I’m so hungry!”

Dex, very happy to have Syrdian’s arms around himr, said, “Me too! Let’s hope the snares keep working this well.”

“Did you do something different?”

“Yes, you inspired me when you said you thought you’d caught all the swimmers in such a small stream. I realized that the snares might have caught all the animals that used the paths I had them on and I should move them to different paths. Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Syrdian said, taking Dex’s catch.

***

Ell sat down at their weekly TC3 meeting. Everyone else had already arrived though their three professors were all attending remotely. “Sorry I’m late. Who’s got something interesting to tell us?”

Emma said, “Our new rocket will arrive tonight. We flew the old one up to the bank above the Teecee’s cave while they were gone yesterday and they didn’t seem to be upset by it. I’m hoping to fly the new one down to the bank and the old one out of there while they’re out hunting tomorrow. The new one looks very much like the old one except it’s about a half inch bigger around and three inches longer so we’re hoping they’ll just think it grew a little. Once we’ve made the swap, Professor Norris can fly the old one around, surveying the planet like he’s been wanting.”

Wheat interjected, “Promise me you’ll fly it south first to confirm whether or not there are Teecees down there that could have migrated from Goldy’s cave area.”

Norris smiled, “Yeah, yeah, we can check out a few of your biologic questions before we move on to the important stuff like analyzing the planet itself.”

Wheat said, “And we need more specimens tested for DNA. One sample could have been contaminated by some DNA from earth in the chamber.”

Emma and Manuel protested, “We cleaned that…”

Wheat put a hand up, “Yes, yes, I’m sure you did, but we can’t publish without repeating the test.”

Ell said, “I hope you’re not planning to publish right away.”

“No, no,” he waved dismissively, “but, someday…

“Also, I’ve got to say that I’m worried about Goldy and Silver. I don’t think they’re getting enough to eat. I’m pretty sure they have no experience with living in the area with its higher altitude and different flora and fauna. I suspect that normally they get most of their food by hunting from the air. We’ve seen Goldy stoop on burrowers a few times. But Silver can’t fly at all and Goldy isn’t flying a lot. When the rocket is in a position to see Goldy fly, it looks like it’s a bit of a struggle getting into the air. They’ve been fishing in the stream and did well for a while, but I think they may have overfished such a small stream because Silver hasn’t been bringing in much lately.”

“Is there anything we could do to help?”

“Should we be interfering in the natural course of events on another planet?” Several of the group looked at Emma when she asked this and shrugged, but no one entered into a debate on the question.

Manuel said, “We could teach them how to make an Ojibwa bird snare with a few drawings.”

“What’s that?”

Manuel said, “It’s a pretty simple little trap to catch birds. I’ve already made drawings.” He scrolled through them on the screen. “I don’t see why that snare wouldn’t catch the flyers they have there just as easily as it does birds on earth.”

Norris said, “Good idea. Another thing that’s been bugging me is their staves. They have those pointed staves they’ve been carrying and holding kind of like they were spears, but I’ve never seen them use them except to whack things with the sides of them.”

“When that big animal looked like it would attack, they did hold them point out when they were preparing to defend themselves.”

Roger frowned, “I wouldn’t think they would make very good weapons. It’s hard to imagine getting a relatively blunt wooden point to penetrate much, even if they’ve heat treated them.”

“Agreed,” Norris said, “but they have flint knives. Why haven’t they hafted some flint points onto those shafts?”

Emma said, “Last night, during my watch period, Silver broke a big lump of rock that I think was flint into some smaller chunks and seemed to be flaking them as if trying to make some more knives.”

Wilson said, “I’ve looked into this a little. Flint is usually found in limestone and here on Earth limestone is typically the remnants of coral and other marine organisms. So, on another planet, with different life forms, there may not be coral, therefore no limestone, and therefore no flint?”

The group looked at Wheat. He shrugged, “Look around. It’s a different planet, but the life is DNA based and there are tree analogues, grass analogues, bird analogues and fish analogues. I’ll bet when we get to the sea we’ll find coral analogues, or something that builds underwater structures out of carbonates anyway. Most caves here on Earth occur in limestone and you’ll notice we’ve encountered some caves.

Manuel tilted his head, “So, do you think if I drew them pictures of a hafted spear that they might be able to take down one of those large grazers in the meadow?”

Wheat shrugged, “Seems like it would be a lot safer for them than it was for our ancestors. Goldy can just fly over a grazer and plunge a spear into it. He, excuse me, ‘it’ doesn’t have to worry about being run down by an angry bull that survives the attack. If his attack fails he just flies on by.”

Manuel said, “Looks like I’ve got some more drawings to make.”

Ell looked over at Kira Piscova. “Any luck with translation Dr. Piscova?”

Kira tossed her hands up gently, “This is very difficult. All the languages we use here have breaks to define words but my impression is that the only breaks in the sounds they make may signify what to us would be ‘sentences.’ They seem to emit several frequencies at the same time, as if they have several different sets of vocal cords, or vocal cord analogues. Right now I’m testing the theory that pitch shifts act kind of like letters in our words, that they use another high or low tone as a modifier of the word. That high end AI you’ve lent me is helping a lot. I’ve identified a few sound clips that I think I know the meaning of, at least when spoken by Goldy. This is Silver’s name,” a tweedle played over the speakers, “and this is ‘fire,’” another tweedle, “and this is ‘fish,’” a third tweedle played. Of course I’m not even sure if I’m right about those particular sounds.” She sighed, “I’ve got a long way to go. Will you allow me to ‘speak to them’ through the speaker on the new rocket?”

Ell said, “Sure, once you’re pretty confident we won’t be saying something that offends them.”

***

Dex climbed up to the bank above the cave and retrieved hies meteorite, bringing it back down into the front of the cave. It felt great to have a full stomach. Hie set the meteorite on its legs just inside the opening of the cave, then crouched comfortably to ponder it. Hie wondered if it would ever give himr more instructions. If only I could ask it questions!

Suddenly a hissing sound came from it and it moved, turning part way around. Dex saw a red spot appear and when hie turned to look at the wall of the cave hie saw a drawing of a dalin cutting a point onto one end of a pole. The dalin pounded it into the ground with a rock. It cut a point into the top end and bored a transverse hole through it below the top. Next the dalin took a smaller stick and trimmed it so the base of it fit into the hole in the pole. A noose was made from fiberlin with a knot tied in the string above the knot. The string went through the hole in the pole and then the stick was fitted in to jam the string with the knot just above the hole. The tail of the string was tied around the rock that had been used to pound the stick into the ground. A noose from the top end of the string was draped over the horizontal stick. The dalin left.

Dex tilted hies head back and forth, trying to understand. Then the pictures showed a flyer landing to perch on the horizontal stick. When it landed, the stick fell out of its hole and the rock fell. The weight pulled the noose shut around the flyer’s legs. The dalin reappeared, taking away the trapped flyer.

The pictures started over. Dex studied them carefully through several repetitions. Syrdian came back from relieving himrself and watched the drawings also. Dex began boring a hole through the back end of one of hies staves.

Syrdian said, “Do you think the drawings are saying that we can catch flyers with a flyer snare made like the drawings show?”

Dex tried to fit a perching stick into the hole hie’d bored. “That’s what I think. Do you?”

Syrdian shrugged, “I guess. Can I help?”

“We’re running low on fiberlin string. Do you know how to make it?”

“Yes, but I’ll have to go to see if I can find any fiberlin vine tomorrow.”

“Can you unravel some string off a piece of the rope we brought up from the cave?”

“Sure how long?”

“A little more than the span of your arms.”

Syrdian looked fondly at Dex a few moments, then turned to look for their rope.

***

Washington D.C.—President Flood announced today that his administration, like President Teller’s before his, had negotiated several strategies to release D5R’s new solar technology gradually and broadly. This strategy is hoped to stabilize the instability recently plaguing the energy sector, especially the petroleum markets…

Ell’s AI spoke in her ear, “‘Raquel Blandon’ has a call from Shan Kinrais.”

“Who?”

“The Shan you met at Vic’s bar 23 days ago.”

“Oh, OK. Hi Shan, long time.”

“Hi Raquel. I find I keep thinking about my best clogging partner.”

“It was fun… I’d like to dance with you again sometime.”

“Well… Do you remember that I like to play basketball?”

“Yeah?”

“I belong to an intramural team and a couple of our guys can’t play tonight. I remembered that you said you played in high school? Could you fill in? We’re desperate.”

“What!” Ell laughed, “First of all, I’m broken hearted to find you aren’t calling me to go dancing again. Then, even worse, I learn that you’re only calling me to fill in on your basketball team because you’re ‘desperate?!’”

“Crap! I didn’t put that very well, did I?”

“No! Are you always this clumsy talking to girls?”

“Probably.” He laughed at himself, “Do you think that’s why I don’t have a girlfriend?”

Ell giggled. “Ya think? Yeah. I’d cut you some slack anyway, except I’m afraid I don’t have the stamina to play full court without subs.”

“Oh, this is half court, three on three.”

“When?”

“Six PM. You bail us out so we don’t have to forfeit and I’ll buy you dinner after.”

“OK, but you owe me a night out clogging too.”

Shan laughed, “You’ve got a deal.”

Shan scanned the gym again. If Raquel didn’t get here soon they’d have to forfeit. He breathed a sigh of relief; he’d seen her walking around the periphery of the courts. Behind him Ryan said, “Who’s supposed to fill in for Jim and Roger?”

“Raquel,” Shan murmured staring at the girl approaching. Wearing old sweats that somehow looked… good. Something about the way she walked… Slender, pretty, but… graceful.

“Who!?” Ryan broke in, “A girl!? Why not just forfeit and get it over with? Oh God, it’s that clogging girl you had the hots for isn’t it?!”

Shan turned, “No one else could play! Just think of it as two on three, they won’t let us play without a third player you know?”

Ryan turned away in disgust, “This’ll be a total humiliation.”

“Even if we lose, we’ll still get some practice.”

Ryan barked a laugh, “No, these guys we’re playing, they won the league last year.” He waved at four guys walking their way, all dressed in black, the short one at least six foot one, “It’ll be an embarrassment.”

Raquel stepped up. “What’ll be an embarrassment?”

Shan turned to her, “Hi Raquel, apparently we’re playing last year’s champs and Ryan thinks we’re gonna get a beat down. Do you remember Ryan from Vic’s?”

“Sure,” Raquel put her hand out to shake. Ryan took it sullenly.

The four guys approached, one stepping forward, saying, “We’re team ‘Destruct.’ Are you the ‘Integs’?”

Shan nodded, “Yup.”

“Where’re the rest of your players?”

“One’s sick, one’s out of town. Raquel here’s subbing.”

He rolled his eyes, “Oh, come on! Tell you what, take the loss and one of us will play on your team, then we can at least have some fun games.”

Shan looked stubborn, “We’ll play one game with our team. If you guys put a bad hurt on us, then we’ll take the loss and you can loan us a player.”

He shrugged, “Your funeral.” He pointed around his team, “Steve, Rick, Larry,” he pointed a thumb at himself, “Rand.”

Shan said, “I’m Shan, this is Ryan and Raquel.”

“OK. We’ve got five minutes to warm up.”

“Right.” Shan tossed the ball he’d been holding against his hip to Ryan who dribbled it out onto the court and tossed up a rim clanger.

Shan nervously watched Raquel catch the ball which had bounced directly to her. She dribbled it a couple of times, as if getting the feel for it, then she bent her knees gracefully and launched a shot with nice form… but it was an ‘air ball,’ so short it didn’t even touch the rim. His heart sank. He glanced back at her, expecting her to be wincing.

She grinned at him, “Haven’t played for years.”

His heart sank further. Shan jogged to retrieve the ball as it bounced off the court. He tossed it to Ryan who put it in. Raquel retrieved it and tossed it to Shan, but her pass
was low. Why did I think this would be a good idea? Not even a good idea, why did I think it would be an acceptable idea? He launched a shot which banked almost in, but bounced off the rim, up and out. Raquel caught this one too, dribbled it a couple of beats and passed it out to Ryan. There’s one good pass, he thought. Ryan dropped that basket too and Shan developed a little hope. Sometimes Ryan could get really hot. If that happened today, maybe the game wouldn’t be too embarrassing.

Raquel rebounded and tossed the ball to him. This time it hit him right in the hands, pretty hard. His eyebrows rose and he took the shot.

To his dismay it bounded high up off the rim. He hadn’t made one yet! To his surprise Raquel appeared under it to rebound again and this time she put it back up. It fell through, nothing but net…

One of the league refs showed up and said, “Let’s get this game going.”

Shan and Ryan pulled off their sweats and after a moment’s pause Raquel shrugged and did the same. Shan’s breath caught a moment when she pulled off the pants. Those legs are gorgeous! Then she pulled off the sweat top. As it came up it pulled her snug little tank top up briefly to reveal her abs. He blinked, the girl is ripped! He remembered how well she danced, she’s got to be pretty athletic. Maybe we do have a chance?

Team Destruct won the toss and brought the ball in to Rick who Raquel was supposed to be guarding, since he was the shortest guy on the other team. He tossed it, uncontested to Larry back at the foul line and Larry brought it back toward the basket with Ryan defending him. Ryan pressed him hard enough that Larry picked up his dribble but then he passed it hard to Rick who pivoted and sank a jump shot over Raquel’s head.

Shan brought it in to Ryan, who dribbled it back to the foul line and brought it back up court. Though Raquel was very loosely guarded by Rick, Ryan made a pass back to Shan who had Rand all over him. For a moment Shan thought he’d lost the ball but he managed to keep it and put up a wide shot. Rick rebounded the miss and tossed it back to Larry near the foul line.

In short order the Integs found themselves behind 14 to 4, Ryan having put in a couple of baskets. Ryan called a time out.

“Shan feed it to me, I’m making baskets and you’re cold as ice.”

Shan shrugged; it was true, “OK.”

Raquel grinned, not looking fazed at all by the debacle the game had turned into. “What do you want me to do?”

Ryan shrugged, “Bring the ball in, try to get some rebounds.”

She grinned again, as if she were having a great time. “OK.”

My God, Shan thought, she could at least have the decency to look embarrassed. Then he thought, though, we haven’t really given her a chance. We’re playing pretty much like she isn’t out there.

Raquel took the ball over to the baseline to bring it in. Shan was dismayed to see Rick step up to the line, arms out, intending to make it impossible for her to even get it onto the court. He was torn between being angry that they were going to make it so hard on her and embarrassed that they could. To his amazement, as Ryan stepped down near the baseline, trying to give her a target, Shan saw her wink at Rick, then the ball suddenly rocketed past Rick’s hip, not to Ryan nearby, but to Shan. A long pass that should have been in danger of interception… except it was hard, fast and right to Shan’s hand on the far side from Rand. Did she just get lucky? Or do that purposefully?

Shan took it across the foul line and dribbled back up court with Rand pressing him hard. He fired a bounce pass to Ryan who put it up… but it bounded off the rim and towards Rick. Shan’s heart sank but then to his astonishment Raquel darted in front of Rick and slapped wildly at the ball. Wild as her slap had been, the ball bounced directly back to Ryan. This time it went in.

Rick stepped over the baseline to bring the ball in and Raquel stepped in front of him. She didn’t have her hands up! Ryan shouted, “Get your hands…” He stopped because Rick had made his inbounds pass from up high where Raquel’s hands couldn’t even reach. But one of her hands did wildly touch it, deflecting the pass. Only a little bit, but instead of going to Larry it went right into Ryan’s hands.

Ryan fired it back to Shan and Shan dribbled it back up court. Ryan broke free of Larry and Shan fed the ball to him. Ryan rushed the shot and it bounced erratically off the rim. However unpredictable that bounce off the rim might have been, the gods smiled on them because it fell right into Raquel’s hands. She glanced at Ryan but Larry had him well covered at the moment and Rick was blocking the expected pass as well. Shan had the fleeting impression that she shrugged before putting the ball up and through the hoop herself! Perfectly arced, right in the hole…

Games were to 21 and they lost that first one 21-18. Yes it was a loss, but it wasn’t an embarrassment. They declined to take the loss and one of Destruct’s players, opting instead to continue playing for themselves.

They just got luckier and luckier! Raquel didn’t make any “steals,” just accidental deflections. But the gods smiled and the deflected passes went into his or Ryan’s hands. She didn’t seem to put much effort into her passes but they moved fast and arrived hard… and exactly to their recipient’s hands. Well, that wasn’t strictly true, to catch them he or Ryan usually had to step a little, but that step always took them away from their defender. She’d only shot twice the first game, but she’d drilled both of them.

Nothing about her play seemed to be… remarkable. Except there were no errors. And her unintentional plays… like when she managed to deflect one of their passes, were so lucky. They not only were deflected just enough to miss their intended recipient, but also didn’t dribble out of bounds, instead they went to Shan or Ryan. As they were taking their break, Ryan turned grudgingly to Raquel and said, “Nice passes. This time you go back to the foul line and bring the ball up. Feed Shan or me.”

Raquel shook her head and grinned. “Nah, I’ll get tired if I have to run up and down that much. I’ll stay down here near the basket except when I’m chasing one of them on defense.”

Ryan narrowed his eyes and looked like he would protest, but then shrugged his shoulders and turned back to the court.

They won the next game… and the one after that. They led most of the time. It seemed like the Team Destruct player that was on Raquel made a lot of mistakes. Shan wondered if they were just flustered to be playing a girl. Or by her willowy good looks? In any case, they fumbled their dribbles, perhaps because Raquel got a hand on the ball. They let her deflect their passes, perhaps too confident that she couldn’t?

When they’d won the third game for the best two out of three and the overall win, Ryan slammed into Shan with a bear hug, lifting him off the ground. “Man, we were on fire! Way to go!” He turned to Raquel, “You play a decent game little lady, thanks for helping us out.” He jogged away, calling back, “Gotta go!”

Shan honored his commitment, taking Raquel out to Five Guys for burgers afterward. As they sat down he said, “Hey, you’re pretty good with the b-ball.”

She shrugged, “I’m pretty quick is all. Catches guys by surprise and they don’t adapt to it.”

“I’ll say… Hey, I looked up your company, it’s ‘Quantum Technologies’?”

She nodded.

“It’s a spin-off of D5R isn’t it?”

She nodded again.

“Have you met Donsaii?” he asked eagerly.

“Well, I’ve seen her around.”

“Oh man, I’d so love to meet her. I’ve been studying the math she came up with to describe quantum effects and her 5 dimension and it is so fascinating! You’ve got to promise to invite me to your next work party.”

Raquel narrowed her eyes, “She doesn’t like people bugging her.”

“Aw hell, she doesn’t even need to talk to me. I’d just like to be able to brag that I shook her hand. Or I could just worship the ground she walked on?”

After their burgers and fries, they walked to an ice cream shop where to Shan’s amazement, while he had a small cone Raquel sucked down a large milkshake.

Back home, after working on his math a while, Shan found himself musing about how the games had gone. After a while he skimmed through his AI’s video of the games. She didn’t take a lot of shots, nor make every shot, but his skin prickled when he realized that she missed every time when they were leading and made every shot when they were trailing… what a weird coincidence.

Finally he turned back to his hero Donsaii’s beautiful equations.

Chapter Ten

Dex landed and Syrdian felt relief to see that hie had a couple of small burrowers. Syrdian had only caught one flyer with the pole snares that day. When they’d first started putting the snares up in the meadow they’d caught quite a few flyers each day. But it seemed that the flyers had become wary. Syrdian moved the snares every day, but had begun to think that hie needed to move them to another meadow.

They were eating better than they had been, but were still somewhat hungry most days. Dex worked tirelessly putting out snares and hunting small animals from the air. Syrdian found himrself admiring Dex and wishing that hie had the confidence to tell Dex how hie felt. But hies chest hurt when hie tried to talk about such things. Despite hies higher status in the Yetany tribe, it felt to himr that, in their little tribe of two, Dex held all the rank—if so, Syrdian should be respectful and wait for Dex’s notice.

As Dex helped break down their catch and prepare them to be roasted hie glanced covertly at Syrdian. They’d been eating better but Syrdian still appeared thin. Hie mused to himrself over how hies love for Syrdian at a distance last winter had proven false when hie’d come face to face with the real Syrdian after the talor’s attack. That Syrdian had seemed shallow, pathetic and not at all who Dex would have wanted to spend hies life with. But then, after Dex had agreed to try to help Syrdian live through the summer despite hies torn wing, Syrdian had seemed to change. Instead of hies initial incompetence and arrogant attitude, Syrdian had assiduously done whatever hie could to help and learned how to do most of the things that hie hadn’t known how to do.

When it turned out that the flyer snares needed to be checked frequently to keep flying predators from taking their prey, Syrdian had volunteered for the job in order to allow Dex time to do the things that required flight. These musings led himr to wonder… “How does your wing feel now, Syrdian?”

“It doesn’t hurt anymore. I’m worried because some of your little threads have gotten loose. Do you think they need to be replaced?” Syrdian sounded apprehensive over the prospect.

“I don’t know, let me see.” Syrdian raised the wing and Dex bent hies head near. The sutures were more than loose. On the surface hie could see and Syrdian could not, many of them were broken. The skin of the wing around them was discolored. Dex plucked at them with a claw, “Does this hurt?”

“It’s sore.”

Dex grasped the tissue to either side and tugged in a direction to pull the wound open. Nothing separated. “Does that hurt?”

“No.”

Dex pulled the wing up to look at the underside. The threads were loose and had actually pulled out in a couple of places leaving pieces of thread dangling. Hie tugged on a loose loop with a claw and the thread pulled right out of the wing. “I think you’re healed. I’m going to try taking the sutures out.” Hie pulled another one loose.

“But, what if… what if the wound comes open again? I don’t want you to have you put them in again. I don’t think I could take the pain.”

“They’re loose. They aren’t doing anything anymore.”

“What if the suture spirits are…? I don’t know… doing something even though the sutures are loose.”

“Spirits? These are just stitches, like I make to hold leather together.”

“But if you take the threads out of leather, it comes apart!”

“Leather doesn’t heal. I think your wing has healed.”

“They aren’t doing any harm. Please leave them in?” As if begging, Syrdian dipped hies head in submission.

Taken aback, Dex wondered why Syrdian would dip submission, hie was much higher ranking than Dex. “OK, I think you should try beating your wings some to see if you think it’s strong enough to fly.”

Syrdian’s head went way up and back. “Really?!”

Dex shrugged hies wings, “Have to try it sometime.”

“Let’s get these burrowers roasting first.”

Once their catch was roasting, Syrdian said, “Shall I try it now?”

Dex shrugged, “Sure.”

Syrdian stepped out and away from the cave so hies wing beats wouldn’t affect their fire. Hies wings lifted and beat a few tentative beats. Dex asked, “Does it hurt?”

Syrdian shrugged hies wings, “It feels funny and a little sore.”

“Let me look.” Dex stepped up close and looked at the wing top and bottom. “It doesn’t look like it’s coming apart. Try a few harder beats.”

Syrdian stepped back and beat hard enough to scoot hies feet along the ground. “It still doesn’t hurt! Do you think I can fly again?”

Dex, surprised to be asked, said, “I think you should see how it feels in the morning. If it’s still good, try flying then.”

“OK.”

They moved back to the cave area and Dex picked up hies meteorite from where it stood in front of the cave. Hie crouched studying it, turning it, reaching around it with hies hand. At one point hie tied it back to hies chest harness, walked around a little, then undid it and set it back down, backing away to study it more.

Syrdian, having turned the spits over the fire said, “What are you doing with your meteorite?”

“Have you noticed it’s bigger than when it first landed?”

Syrdian raised hies head in surprise, “It is?”

“Yes. Not a lot bigger, but it’s a little longer and a little bigger around too.”

“Has it been getting bigger all along, so gradually we never noticed?”

“No, it seemed to get bigger all of a sudden several hands of days ago. It doesn’t seem to have gotten any bigger since then.”

Syrdian came around and studied it, “I can’t tell.”

“I’m not sure I would either if I hadn’t carried it all that time. My hand doesn’t reach around it as easily, and if it were on my harness again it would be more in the way than it was back when I first got it. It also has this little patch of holes in it that didn’t used to be there.”

“Well I wish it would tell us more ways to get food. I’m so tired of being hungry all the time.”

“Hey maybe if you can fly, you can go up and down stream to get more swimmers?”

“Or over to the next stream. I’ve been hoping I could fly soon. It would help. Do you think I could fly down far enough to get to some of the lakes and rivers we normally catch swimmers in?”

“Maybe, but it’ll be hot.”

“Ugh.”

“Well, maybe you could take the heat for a little while?” Dex looked off into the distance and then shrugged, “But then, when you were feeling the worst because of the heat, you’d have to fly up and up into thin air. You’d better be sure you’re flying well before you try it, and just go partway down there to see what it’s like before you go all the way.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure I want to try it. Last spring I flew almost down to the sea, but it was hot and exhausting. I could see why we go south for the summer.”

While they were eating, Syrdian saw a faint red dot appear on the side of the meteorite. Wordlessly hie pointed.

Dex stood up excitedly, stepping to the meteorite. The red dot brightened and lines appeared on the wall of the cave. At first the lines seemed to show a straight stick, pole or shaft. Then the picture focused in on the end of the pole. The end of the pole developed a slot in it.

Next the pictures showed something that looked very much like a flint knife without its handle.  Then it showed something that looked like a flint knife except it looked like it had been flaked to have edges on both sides.

The pictures went away for a moment, then reappeared, this time with the knife next to the shaft. Then with the haft of the knife in the slot in the shaft. Then with fiberlin wrapping around the shaft and haft; and finally with it tied off to produce a knife with an extremely long handle.

Hie stared. The picture showed a weapon! A weapon which would be much more devastating than the fire hardened points on their shafts and with a much longer reach than a knife. Why hadn’t hie thought of this himrself?

The pictures now showed the double edged flint at the tip of the shaft. Such a device would provide much better protection than the fire hardened points on their shafts! Fire hardened points were helpful for fending off attackers and large predators but a flint tipped shaft wouldn’t just fend off, it could penetrate and injure.

Syrdian’s eyes widened when the images showed a dalin flying with the flint tipped shaft in a hand and a small zornit under it. Then the zornit got bigger. And the zornit got bigger yet. Wait, maybe the dalin is flying closer so the zornit appears to get bigger? Then suddenly the dalin appeared to be plunging the shaft into the zornit. Then the zornit had the shaft sticking out of its side as the dalin got smaller—or flew past it?

Next the zornit appeared, laying on its side with the shaft sticking out of it and the dalin on the ground next to it, cutting it up. Dex’s wings were quivering! “Do you see it Syrdian?”

“Is it saying you could kill a zornit from the air with a knife that had a very long handle?”

“Yes, yes! I think so! Let’s give it a name. We could call it a ‘spear.’ Where’s that flint you found?”

Dex took hies remaining shaft with a fire hardened point and cut a deep slot in the blunt end of it. Then hie flaked a double edged knife from Syrdian’s flint. It wasn’t a great knife, but it fit the slot he’d made in the shaft. Hie bound the split in the shaft shut around the blade hie’d made with fiberlin. Hie made a couple more blades that hie could haft onto shafts the next day when hie had good light and could find some nice straight shafts.

In the morning, Dex and Syrdian climbed eagerly up to the meadow after a meager breakfast of the remnants of their meal from the night before. Dex inspected the wounds in Syrdian’s wings again in the better light of day, finding that the wounds looked much like little wing rips that had healed. There were slightly thicker ridges where the tears had been but even when hie picked at them with a claw, or pulled on them with hies fingers no openings appeared and Syrdian claimed to be having little pain. “Shall I try flying?”

“I guess. I think you should try a short distance first.”

Syrdian spread hies wings and tried a few tentative beats, then re-inspected hies wounds. Finally, hie beat hard enough to lift off and fly about five body lengths.

Dex beat over to look at Syrdian’s wing again. Syrdian said, “Oh! That little flight was much harder than… I expected! Do you think my wing isn’t working right?”

“No, it’s really much harder to fly high up on the mountain. And your wings are weak because you haven’t been using them.” Dex looked around; there weren’t any zornits in the big meadow this morning. “I’m going to look for more shafts for the other flint points.”

Syrdian dipped hies head, “I’ll set up some flyer traps, then I think I’ll try for swimmers upstream a ways.” Hie didn’t say it but hie hoped that hies wings would help climb areas of the stream that were a struggle, even if hie didn’t fly the entire way.

“Syrdian! You got some swimmers!”

“Yeah,” Syrdian lifted hies string of three, “I went a little farther up the stream than before. It’s easier to climb the rocks with my wings helping. Did you have any luck?”

“A couple burrowers.”

“Good! Enough to eat for a change!”

They fell to breaking down their catch for roasting.

Syrdian asked, “Are the zornits back?”

Dex shrugged hies wings disappointedly, “No.”

***

At their Teecee group meeting Kira Piscova said, “I’ve worked out what I believe is a vocabulary of about a thousand words for the Teecees. You’ve said I can try to talk to them when I’m sure that I won’t offend them. I don’t think it is possible to be sure that won’t happen. I can’t even be reasonably sure of a lot of these words until I see how they respond to them.”

Norris said, “You can make those tweedling sounds?”

“No, but my AI can. It just plays back the word as they’ve said it. What I would hope to do is to speak the English words we have likely translations for and the AI would play the corresponding Teecee tweedle it has recorded for that word.”

“And when they speak to us your AI would do the reverse?”

“Yes, although their sentence structure is different than ours and so far I haven’t tried to have the AI rearrange them into our usual structure.”

Ell looked up at the screen where video from the previous evening’s take was playing. It showed the late afternoon on TC3. Silver could be seen approaching the Teecee’s camp. “Could you let us listen to a translation of what they’re saying in the section of video playing there?”

Piscova shrugged, “You won’t be very impressed.” She spoke to her AI and the audio from the ongoing video on the screens came on with a series of tweedling sounds.

A moment later the translation came on with a mechanical AI voice saying,  “Fish… Silver… have.”

“Yes… stream...  wings... earlier... up.”

“Two... small animals.”

“Eat.”

“Grazers?”

“No.”

Piscova said, “As you can see, mostly what we have so far are nouns. Figuring out verbs and other parts of speech is going to be much more difficult.”

“What do you think guys?” Ell said looking around at the group, both present and remote. “Should we try to say a few words to them?”

A chorus of affirmatives came back at her. Emma said, “This’ll be pretty historic. You don’t think we need an ambassador or something here?”

“We landed without the government’s approval.” Ell shrugged. “I don’t think we’ve done any harm, a track record not shared by many governments in the past. Though,” she tilted her head, “I’d hope that our modern government would do better than the ones did in the past. The Teecees would be pretty hard to exploit anyway. I think… but I’m not sure yet. My personal preference would be to keep this secret a while longer with the thought that, if we thought they could be exploited somehow, we could keep them a secret forever.” She raised an eyebrow, “Or try anyway.” She looked around and was pleased to see nodding to indicate that the group seemed to agree.

Back in her office Ell found that Emma had followed her there. “Hey, Em’ what’s up?”

“Roger took me out to dinner last night.”

Ell threw her arms around Emma, happy for her but again finding her own heart sinking. “Good for you!” She whispered in Emma’s ear, afraid her voice would break if she said it out loud.

Emma hugged her tight, then leaned back seeing Ell’s eyes glistening, “You’re upset!”

“Yeah.” She choked out, “Silly me. My ‘friendly boy’ is growing up and moving on. Even though I’m pushing him out of the nest, it still hurts.”

Emma’s eyes brightened, “I could push him back your way, he was yours first.”

“No, no. You love him a lot more than I ever did. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m happy for you guys. Really, very happy, but still, I’m sad too.”

“Well, he’s torn up about it too. Worried that he did wrong, taking me out without talking to you about it first.”

“OK, I’ll try to say something positive to him about it.”

“Thanks!” Emma said, giving Ell another hug.

After Emma left Ell sank into her chair moping. Allan said, “‘Raquel’ has a call from Shan Kinrais.”

Ell’s heart leapt a little. She wasn’t even sure whether Shan was “friendly boy” material yet. But with all her other semi romantic interests defunct she was happy to hear from him. “Put him on. Hi Shan, how’s the B-ball going?”

He laughed, “OK, though I kinda miss havin’ you playin’ on our team.”

“Well anytime you need me to bail you out again, just let me know.”

“Hah! Ryan still thinks our win was entirely due to his bein’ ‘on fire’ that day.”

“He was on fire!” Ell said, suddenly worried that she hadn’t been subtle enough with her abilities that day.

“He was. But he doesn’t give enough credit to the teammate who fed him all those passes though.”

“We made some nice passes didn’t we?”

Shan thought back to the several times now that he’d watched the video from those games. He’d come to realize her passes weren’t just “nice” they were excellent, often pulling Ryan away from his defender and positioning him perfectly to cut for his shot. Maybe it had all been luck, but he had a feeling, maybe not. “Well, enough basketball talk. Velos is going to be playing at Vic’s, that bar where we met. How’d you like to go out for dinner and then dancing? I’ve got tickets.”

For a moment Ell panicked at the thought that Shan knew he was talking to Ell Donsaii, a known Velos fan. “Uh sure, that’d be fun. Can we ‘clog’ to Velos’ music?”

“Hah, you can clog to anything if you want to.  But you do remember I can dance other styles?”

“When is it?” Ell asked, though she knew very well.

“Saturday night, two weeks. Donsaii likes Velos so you have to promise me that if she shows up you’ll introduce me.”

“Uh sure.” Ell said, bemused to find herself irritated at being asked to introduce him to herself. My life is entirely too confusing, she thought.

***

Dex climbed up the bank to the meadow. When hies head got high enough to see out into the big meadow hie stopped and called back down, urgently but not loudly, “Syrdian! The zornits are back!” Hie scrambled excitedly back down to the cave.

“Where?”

“In the meadow!”

“I figured that! What part of the meadow?”

“Oh. Near the bottom end, about half way to the other side.”

Syrdian turned and picked up Dex’s two best spears. “Good! You can fly in over the trees so they won’t see you until the last moment.”

Dex’s head rose, “Do you think the zornits will be afraid of dalin?”

“They’re probably afraid of talors. If they see a flyer coming their way they may start to run.”

“I could still catch them!”

“Not if they run into the trees.”

Dex shrugged hies wings. “OK, you’re right. I’ll circle out and come at them just over the tops of the trees.”

“I’ll be right behind you.”

Dex stopped and stared at Syrdian. Syrdian had picked up two more flint tipped spears. Dex didn’t want Syrdian to get hurt but felt uncomfortable saying it. “Are you sure you’re ready for that kind of flying?”

Syrdian shrugged hies wings. “No, but I’ll only attack if you’ve wounded a zornit and we need to finish it off. I’ve been flying pretty far the past hands of days, you know. I haven’t just been flying with you.”

“OK. But I’ve been practicing sticking spears into that mound from the air. It isn’t as easy as you might think.”

Syrdian grinned and beat a wingful of air at Dex. “I’ve practiced too. Days when you were gone for a long time.”

Dex beat a wingful back at himr, grinning. “OK, let’s try it then!” Hie turned and beat into the air over the stream, coasting down the mountain then up into the air over a recently burned section of the forest. Like other dark areas on the ground it usually had a nice updraft. Hies back eyes showed Syrdian back-low-left from himr.

They circled a few times gaining altitude then turned out, swinging back over the forest and back “up mountain” toward the big meadow. From this altitude hie could see the zornits peacefully grazing near the low end of the meadow. At the left end of the little herd, hie saw a smaller one and hie marked its location just over a slightly taller tree.

Dex dove, dropping out of sight of the zornits and gaining speed…

Hie shot out over the tree line.

There was hies small zornit.

With a flick of hind wings Dex stooped on it…

It obviously saw himr with its back eyes. It hunched a little and then began running, turning to the right in the direction of the rest of the herd. The entire herd began running and turning hard right. They were turning to go into the trees!

Dex dropped hies right wing, turning hard with the zornit. At the angle hie was diving hies speed rocketed up. Hie dropped hies right wing further to turn with it and drew back the spear…

Then hie flared wings to avoid crashing into the panicked zornit…

With all hies strength Dex slammed the spear into the zornit just ahead of its right high shoulder. Heart lung and brain were all there in that forepart of the body…

The spear sunk deep as Dex flashed over, wheeling up and turning right to see what had happened…

Syrdian flared over the zornit…

With mighty thrust Syrdian’s spear sank into the zornit as well, they both beat wing to follow the zornit as it continued to run, now directly toward the forest. Was it going to get away? With two spears deep in its forequarter?!

It stumbled!

It stumbled again!

Its front legs collapsed and it crashed into the grass just short of the verge.

Dex dropped to the ground beside the zornit, amazed, yet wondering if it could really be true. Had they really killed a zornit?

Syrdian dropped beside himr with an ululation of joy. Dex turned to himr and opened hies arms. Syrdian threw arms and wings around Dex and Dex did the same to Syrdian. They hopped up and down, wings involuntarily luffing with each leap.

Dex’s hearts filled with ecstasy—to be holding Syrdian on such a joyous occasion.

Syrdian thrilled at the feel of the firm musculature underneath Dex’s soft fur. Admiration for Dex, beautiful, handsome Dex. Dex the inventive. If only Dex could love himr…

Dex, clasping Syrdian to himrself, cursed hies own low status that meant Syrdian could never be hies…

Syrdian’s neck touched hies…

Tentatively Dex curved hies neck slightly around Syrdian’s.

With joy hie felt Syrdian’s neck wrapping around hies own. Tighter and tighter their necks wrapped, squeezing, a feeling Dex had never experienced but which felt so right, so wonderful…

They rose straighter and straighter, more and more of their bodies coming into contact.

Dex felt hies wings ripple in pleasure around Syrdian as their bodies came together. Waves of delight rolled over himr— hie realized this was what mating felt like!

Without thinking that it might happen. Without expecting that Syrdian might consider himr a suitable mate. Without discussing it. Without parental permission. Without the pseudo-mating that young dalin often engaged in.

They were mated—and Dex’s hearts sang.

A niggling doubt surfaced. Had hie somehow forced Syrdian into this? Taken advantage of Syrdian’s dependence on himr? Coerced Syrdian into a mating far below hies station? Slowly they disengaged and Dex drew hies head back to look into Syrdian’s eyes.

Dex’s hearts lifted. Syrdian smiled! “Are you OK?” Dex whispered.

“Oh, yes. Yes! I’ve been hoping… wondering why you haven’t… uh…”

“I never dreamed that you might accept me, my status is... is so low…”

Syrdian laughed, “Dex! You just killed a zornit from the air! Your status should be… exalted!” Syrdian paused, then in a whisper said, “In my eyes your status is higher than anyone I’ve ever known. You killed a Talor and repaired my wing! No one else has ever done these things! You stayed with me when Qes declared me dyatso.” Hie whispered in a juddery voice, “You rescued me. You… worked out how to stay alive here in the summer and how to live high on the mountain.”

Dex’s head drooped, “But my parent Genex… hie brought disgrace on Deltain and myself.”

“Oh Dex! Your status only depends on your parents when you’re a child. That childhood status follows you into young adulthood, but then your status depends more and more on what you do yourself! I should know—my parents constantly remind me that the high status I got from them will… vanish … if I don’t contribute as an adult. But, Dex, even if your status remains low, I, I… love you. I want to be your mate no matter what. I’m just glad that you want to be my mate, even with my injured wing…” Syrdian’s head went up and back, “Do you want to be my mate?”

“Oh yes!” Dex stepped forward, wrapping hies arms and wings around Syrdian again.

They stood rocking slightly back and forth, clasped in each other’s embrace and joyfully rubbing their necks against one another’s until Syrdian ruefully said, “We’d better get to work before our zornit decays, rots, molders and disappears.”

With a laugh Dex slowly released Syrdian.

The zornit was heavy! At first they tried to pull the entire thing across the meadow to their cave. Eventually they cut it into front and back halves, dragging them one at a time. When they returned for the back half they found small scavengers already at it. Dex scratched a shoulder, “Maybe we should leave it to them. We can’t possibly eat it all.”

Syrdian said, “We can dry some of it like you did the talor’s meat that first night. I don’t want to be hungry again. Besides the stomach is in this half and Bultaken’s big water skin was made from the stomach of a zornit.”

“Really?” Dex said, surprised because dalins so seldom hunted zornits.  Zornits were too big for dalins to attack with knives with their vitals being too deep for the usual flint blade and their rolling made it impossible to stay on them long enough to kill. “How did hie get it?”

“The tribe succeeded in stampeding a small herd over a cliff with fire brands.”

“Do you know how to prepare the stomach?”

Syrdian shrugged hies wings, “I think so.”

They each grabbed a hind limb and started dragging. “You’re right, I should harvest the skin too,” Dex said with some anticipation. “Its skin is probably quite a bit thicker than the small animals we catch in our snares. It’ll be good to have some heavy leather.

Dex and Syrdian spent the entire rest of the day and much of the next harvesting the bounty of the zornit. Dex rubbed some fat into the zornit’s skin and then rolled it up with a mash of molloe leaves to soften it into leather that wouldn’t harden. They cut the meat up into strips suspended by the fire to dry. They washed out the intestine and stuffed fat into it. Syrdian removed the stomach, washed it and turned it inside out, suspending it with a tea of molloe leaves inside of it.

Scavenging dlaks trotted around their cave intermittently, but the fire kept them at their distance.

After nightfall the meteorite sent red lines onto the cave wall again. This time the drawings showed the leg bones of the zornit. They were cut obliquely through the midshaft, leaving points on what had been the shaft of the bones. Then the hollow ends were jammed onto spear shafts. Dex realized they would make longer, sturdier spear points than the hafted flints. Perhaps not as sharp as the flint, but not as fragile either. Hie’d broken a flint point attacking the zornit, so hie set to making a bone point to replace it.

Having plenty to eat for a change and many projects to work on immensely cheered the newly mated pair. As they relaxed after mating once again, necks still wound loosely around one another’s, Syrdian asked, “Do you think we’ll have a child?”

Dex shrugged hies wings and whispered, “If we are so blessed, I hope hie has your silver wings.”

***

Shan looked around inside Vic’s, wondering if Raquel was already there? He didn’t see her anywhere but the place was packed. He wandered over to the bar and ordered a Carolina wheat beer. He remembered that Raquel drank Coke and considered ordering one for her but didn’t want to seem presumptive. He picked up the beer the bartender had set in front of him and had his AI send the ‘tender the price plus a tip. The bartender glanced up at his HUD and gave him a pleasant nod.

Shan turned around and found Raquel standing right behind him, arms crossed, one eyebrow lifted. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself, where’s my Coke?”

“Um, I didn’t know...”

“Some kind of date you are!”

“Uhhh.”

She broke into a grin. “Just bustin’ your chops a little.”

Shan raised an eyebrow, “I don’t know if you’re old enough for Coke young lady. I’m thinkin’ a Sprite might be more your speed.”

“Oh, now you’re really cruisin’ for that bruisin’.”

The guitar licks introducing Velos’ first set floated over the club and Shan said “Saved by the band?”

Once they had obtained a Coke for “Raquel,” they headed out into the big room to enjoy the music. As expected Vic’s was packed and they had to leave their drinks on a rail to go out and dance. The floor was too crowded to do much in the way of dancing beyond pleasantly swaying to the music.

When the first slow, wistful arpeggios of “Lost” began to play, Shan stepped close and put his arms around Ell’s waist. Ell realized that, despite watching others dancing like this she hadn’t actually slow danced with anyone herself since she’d done it with Phil Zabrisk years ago. She actually had to glance quickly at some of the other people slow dancing to remind herself to put her arms up and around Shan’s neck. Under her forearms his muscular shoulders felt firm. Nice… she thought. After a moment she leaned gently against him and then lightly rested her head on his shoulder. It felt like… things were good in her world that night.

Shan looked down into Raquel’s light brown hair thinking that there was just… something wonderful about having his arms around her. Soft, yet firm, with every movement perfect, even on something as simple as a slow dance. Somehow, they swayed in perfect synchronization. Her hand gently rubbed the back of his neck.

The evening passed pleasantly. None of the active dancing that Ell loved but, the music she loved was playing. Shan seemed to enjoy it as much as she did. Swaying to the music with Shan felt like all she needed in the world that night.

She realized she felt truly happy for the first time in quite a while.

The show wound down and they walked out to the street, Ell getting a little chill as they turned onto the street where the incident with Sam had started. Shan said quietly, “Feel like some dessert?”

“Sure!”

Shan’s car dropped them off on Franklin Street at the old Carolina Coffee Shop which had recently become famous for late night desserts. Shan looked on in amazement as Raquel inhaled a large slice of pecan pie a la mode. “Hey, what do you do out at Quantum Tech anyway?”

She looked up at him questioningly, “I work on one of the research teams.”

“Very cool, what are they studying?”

She tilted her head considering, “Some of it’s secret but one of the things I do is to help design some of their rockets.”

Shan tried not to let his surprise show. She wasn’t even twenty-one yet, how would she be involved in rocket design? She couldn’t have an engineering degree at her age. Maybe she just helped draw them up? “That’s very cool.” He arched an eyebrow, “And I suppose you can’t tell me any cool things they’re discovering out there, huh?”

She grinned, “Nope.”

He leaned forward, “Do you see Donsaii very often?”

She narrowed her eyes, “Pretty much every day. Are you just fluffing me up to try to get to her?”

He looked embarrassed, but leaned forward and put his hand on hers. “No. Raquel, I… think you’re awesome. You’re a wonderful dancer and,” he grinned, “a great basketball player.

“But, math is my passion. I don’t think I’ve told you, but I’ve been working on my PhD, and for my ‘problem’ I’m trying to extrapolate from Donsaii’ math that explains that extra dimension. Using her math I keep getting predictions of some weird effects on light and gravitation over great distances. Astrophysics isn’t my strong suite so it’s been really frustrating trying to figure out what I’m doing wrong. So, I keep thinking that if I could just bounce some of my issues and ideas off of her…”

Ell felt a prickling sensation in her scalp. Could this affect the ‘dark energy’ calculations I’ve been working on? Outwardly she grinned at Shan and leaned back, “I don’t know… still sounds like you might be dating me just to get to Donsaii… Are you that devious?”

Shan leaned back, “You’re right. I shouldn’t try to use you to help me make contact. I like doing things with you and that part of my life should be separate from my studies. Forget I ever asked.” He winked, “Sure you don’t need another slice of pie?”

She raised her eyebrows, “That’d be wonderful! For a cobbler, I might forward an email about your theory to Donsaii?”

His eyebrows elevated in turn, “I was kidding about the pie!”

“I’m not!” she grinned.

Shan watched in astonishment as she ate a large blackberry cobbler. Again a la mode, scraping the dish when she’d finished. When he told his AI to pay the bill it turned out that she’d already paid it. “Hey!” he began.

She put her hands up, “I’ve got a job; you don’t. You got the tickets to the show, the least I can do is get the dessert!” She looked a little embarrassed, “Especially since I ate most of it.”

“Thanks!” he put an arm around her, “I had a great time.” As they walked out to the street he said, “Hopefully we can do this again sometime?”

She looked almost shy as she quietly said, “I’d like that; it was fun.”

Her little truck pulled up to the curb out front, but she turned to him there on the sidewalk. He tentatively put a hand on her hip and she turned willingly into his arms, putting hers around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss. A looong kiss that left his heart beating faster. She slowly pulled away. “Send me that e-mail,” she winked, “and I’ll get it to the right place.”

For a moment Shan felt confused, what e-mail? Then he remembered that she’d said she’d send an email about his math issues to Donsaii. Gently he touched his lips as her truck faded into the distance. Wonderingly, he thought to himself that he really liked this girl. Then he shrugged, pretty, great dancer, plays B-ball, fun to talk to. What’s not to like?

Chapter Eleven

Deltain stood at the edge of the escarpment and looked morosely out over the valley. The Yetany tribe camped on this escarpment every summer because it provided a relatively flat area for their shelters, and the prevailing winds blew up the escarpment providing an updraft for an easy launch to flight. The valley below and the plains behind both had pretty good hunting. There were quite a few molloe trees in the area that provided himr with materials to tan hies leather. Deltain had always liked this part of the year before. The living was easy this year too but hie felt desolate.

Hie occasionally heard dalins speaking of Dex, but not with the love Deltain felt. Instead, hie could tell from the glances they sent hies way that some thought Dex might be to blame for the loss of Syrdian. The blame they were putting on Dex had been causing Deltain to lose more status as evidenced by the increased difficulty hie’d been having making good trades for hies leatherwork. Hies wings involuntarily twitched with anger at the way they had decided Dex was guilty with no evidence that hie was anything but another victim!

Deltain had stopped Qes once to ask himr again if hie was sure hie hadn’t seen Dex on that fateful day when Dex and Syrdian disappeared and Qes returned late. Qes had drawn himrself up and stared haughtily at Deltain. “I barely knew who your child was Deltain. I certainly didn’t keep track of hies comings and goings.”

Hie’d been lonely before this summer. Hies status had been destroyed by hies mate Genex and by the way hie’d stood by Genex through hies addiction when most other dalins would have left someone who abused fermented tubers. Hies status had been elevated by hies skill at leatherwork, nonetheless, it was still low enough that hie found it hard to socialize with the dalins that the others considered to be hies equals.

Hie looked back over the camp. Sometimes hie thought hie hated all dalins and their constant preoccupation with status! Other times hie recognized hies own inner contradictions. After all, if hie was unwilling to socialize with those dalins currently judged to be similar in status to himrself but that hie considered to be below hies own status, how could hie condemn others for not socializing with himr.

Sometimes hie felt betrayed by Dex who had triggered Deltain’s further ostracization by disappearing on the same day as the beautiful Syrdian.

Most of the time hie worried about Dex though. Dex was hies only living child, and Deltain had expected great things from himr. Hie’d long wondered at how quickly Dex learned new methods, and how frequently hie thought of an even better way to do something that Deltain taught himr. Deltain had been expecting hies own status to rise with Dex’s as Dex became an adult and began to contribute to the tribe in the manner that Deltain had thought hie might. In Deltain’s dreams, Genex’s problems were forgotten and Deltain’s pride in Dex reached enormous proportions. Now all hies dreams were ruined.

Much of the summer had passed and despite Deltain’s fervent prayers Dex had not appeared at the summer camp. Deltain had all but resigned himrself to the reality of Dex’s death. Hie often thought of leaving the Yetany tribe to join another. Of course hie would start with the lowest possible rank in a new tribe but hie felt confident that hies status would rapidly rise. Nonetheless Deltain had resolved to stay with the Yetany until after the migration back North. Hie had to see for himrself that Dex hadn’t somehow survived the summer there and by some miracle returned to the cave.  Even if Deltain only found hies remains, at least knowing that Dex was truly gone would settle hies mind for hies departure.

Eventually Deltain turned and trudged back to hies little shelter.  Hie shared it with no one despite the normal tendency for dalin to live in groups of two to five.

***

Syrdian looked up lovingly as Dex flared to land beside himr where hie stood beside the pond outside their cave. “Look,” hie said, pointing into the pond, “a swimmer showed up this morning.”

Dex leaned over to look, “Where…? Oh, wait, I see it now… Are you going to catch it?”

“No. Right now we’re not hungry. I’m going to leave himr for someday when we need himr.”

Dex shrugged hies wings, “Good idea.”

Syrdian stood and stretched, “It’s getting cooler.”

Dex dipped hies head in affirmation.

“I’m thinking we could move a little lower on the mountain. It’d be easier to fly and the animals will be more plentiful.”

Dex turned and looked back at their cave. “What will we do with…” hie waved a wingtip at all the supplies they had accumulated. Leather, spears, flint blades and a buried cache of dried meat. Far more than they carry in this thin air.

Syrdian turned to look too. Things had been going very well since that first successful zornit hunt. They’d had plenty to eat and because they were in the “growing age” near the end of youth they had both grown quite a bit. Dex had had to make both of them new leather harnesses to fit their increased sizes and had used their new zornit skin. Elegant and carefully worked, they were beautiful harnesses and Syrdian was fiercely proud of hies. Without having to hunt all the time they’d had time to practice their new “making” skills. Syrdian had found a trove of flint up the stream where hie’d found the first nodule and, having a lot of material to practice with, had become an expert at flaking spear heads from it. Hie shrugged, “Maybe we could make several trips?”

Dex’s wings sagged, “I guess. It’ll be a lot of hard work but…”

“But having all this stuff will help us establish much better status when the rest of the tribe comes back.”

Dex brightened visibly, “You think so?”

“Oh, yeah. No one else our age has ever arrived into adulthood as a mated couple with so many wonderful things to contribute to the tribe.”

“Do you think they’ll accept our mating? It wasn’t approved by the council.”

“Hah! Just let them try to object! We could just take our stuff and leave to join a tribe that appreciates us.”

Dex’s head went up and back in startlement, “Really? You think we can push them like that?”

“Dex, you have no idea how important these things are, do you?”

“But, once they see how to do them, they won’t need us!”

Syrdian lowered hies head and beat a small wingful of air at Dex, “We don’t show up with a spear. We show up with a zornit! If they want to learn how to hunt zornit, they’ll have to accept us. We don’t tell them about your sutures, we just tell them that you healed an enormous rent in my wing and show them the scar. If they want someone in the tribe who can heal wings, they’ll have to accept us!”

***

Allan, Ell’s AI said, “The email that you’ve been waiting for, the one from Shan Kinrais to ‘Raquel,’ has arrived.”

Ell leaned back in her chair, surprised that it had finally come in. He’d said he would send it several weeks ago. Since then they’d been out to a movie and he’d invited her to a party put on by his roommate Ryan. She’d had a great time at both and had definitely promoted Shan to “friendly boy” status in her mind. She admired his disheveled good looks, his lean muscular physique, and the fact that he was a guy who liked to dance. Mostly though, she found that she simply loved talking to him. He was knowledgeable but never “showed off” his intelligence.  He liked talking about the same topics she did and led her to talk about things she knew little about, but found herself studying to understand better after she’d gotten home. She had found herself hoping that he really did understand her math. She found herself desperately wanting a friend that she could discuss her math with. Someone who actually understood it rather than just admiring what it could do. Someone she could admire and think of as a “boyfriend.”

Now she found herself dreading the opening of this e-mail. What if it turned out that he didn’t have a clue? This is ridiculous, she told herself, just because he didn’t understand my math wouldn’t mean I couldn’t love him. I’m sure that in most marriages the two members of the couple don’t have the same understanding of all the same topics. One’s strengths compliments the other’s weaknesses and vice versa.

In her heart though, she knew she’d be terribly disappointed. If he’d never even tried to understand her math, it would be OK, but to know he’d tried and failed…

With a trembling sigh she said, “Put it up on the big screen.”

The message popped up on her wall, “Raquel, thank you for agreeing to forward this to Ms. Donsaii. I hope I don’t embarrass myself and you. It’s taken me a couple of weeks just to get this edited into something I’m fairly confident of, so I’m hoping she doesn’t just laugh when she sees it. Wish me luck (and please strip this message to you off before you forward it.)”

Ell closed her eyes. The lack of confidence the message showed was breaking her heart. With a sinking feeling she scrolled down to the message he’d written to her as “Ms. Donsaii…”

…

It was five O’clock in the morning when Ell finally forced herself to turn off her screens and try to get some sleep, head still spinning with the ramifications of what Shan had found buried in her math…

Her thoughts flip-flopped around… from wondering how she could have missed it… to wondering if Shan was laughing at her for overlooking it, to thinking he must be a genius to have seen it.

Genius, she’d concluded.

Manuel looked up as Ell walked into the team teecee meeting, “Hey Bosslady, you look exhausted. You OK?”

Ell smiled tiredly, “Yeah, I got some good news that kept me up all night.”

“Good news kept you up?”

“Hard to explain. How are the Teecees doing?”

“Still sleeping. But you know how they spent the day yesterday flying up and down the mountain carrying a few things at a time?”

Ell nodded.

“I thought maybe we could send them a drawing of a travois?” An image popped up on the big screen showing one of Manuel’s elegant drawings, this time showing two poles dragging behind a teecee with a load of materials stacked between them.

***

Dex laughed and set down the handles of the travois, “We may finally have put too much on this thing! Let’s take those flint nodules back off.” Once they had done that, hie picked up the handles and trundled the travois down the game path a ways. Setting them down hie turned back to Syrdian. Hie threw hies arms around himr. “This’ll be easy, especially since we’re going downhill! Let’s make another one for you.”

They were able to load almost everything they wanted to take down the mountain onto the two travois and stood looking at the things that remained. Dex asked, “What should we do with this stuff?”

Syrdian said, “I think we should leave it here for…” Hies voice got juddery with emotion, “For the next dalin that can’t fly the migration, injured or old. We can climb up here with them and show them how to survive,” hie finished in an emotional whisper.

Dex felt hies own chest constricting and simply dipped hies head yes.

They stacked the leftovers neatly and started down the mountain.

***

Allan, Ell’s AI, said, “A large animal is approaching Goldy and Silver.”
Ell looked over from the screen of equations she had been studying. The screens showed the teecees indistinctly in infrared. They were asleep and over them Ell could see a large infrared object, getting bigger as it approached.

“Use Piscova’s translation program to send the following. ‘Goldy, Silver, a predator comes.’”

***

Dex woke upon hearing Syrdian say, “Dex.”

Then to his utter astonishment hie heard hies own voice say, “Syrdian.”

Then Syrdian said, “Predator.”

Hies own voice said “Arrives.”

Hie bolted upright and saw Syrdian leaping to hies feet as well. A large animal was visible by infrared! Dex bent to grasp hies spears. The animal began to charge toward Syrdian! Dex leapt forward.

***

Ell said, “Target the predator’s eyes with the laser. High power!” However, Goldy leapt forward and came between the rocket and the predator. “Move the rocket to the left!”

Ell’s point of view lifted slightly and slid to the left, but by the time it got a good view, the predator’s head was no longer in view. The entire animal was skidding towards Goldy’s feet with two spear shafts protruding from the base of its neck. Goldy and Silver were dancing back, each still holding their second spear.

She leaned back in her chair, Piscova was going to be pissed not to have been involved in the first use of her translation program.

***

Hearts pounding and breath pouring through him, Dex looked around for the other dalin that had said “Syrdian” and “arrives.” No dalin were to be seen.

Dex said, “Syrdian, how did you know it was coming?”

“Because you woke me up.”

“But you called my name,” Dex said, looking around.

“You called my name.”

They turned to stare at one another. Syrdian whispered, “I heard me too, but I never said anything… I thought the voices came from the direction of the meteorite.”

They both turned to stare at the spot where they’d placed the meteorite the night before. It wasn’t there!

As they looked around they saw it standing down to their left, apparently unharmed. “Did you move it?” Dex asked.

Syrdian waved hies head “no.”

Dex walked slowly over to the meteorite and picked it up. Speaking in Syrdian’s voice it said, “Hello Dex.”

As Dex’s skin crawled and he wondered how Syrdian had made his voice come from the meteorite hie heard Syrdian say over hies shoulder, “It sounds like me!!” The astonishment in Syrdian’s voice told him that Syrdian had nothing to do with hies voice coming from the meteorite.

Saying some words with Dex’s voice and some with Syrdian’s the meteorite slowly said, “Sometimes, Dex, Syrdian, I, help.”

To Dex’s great dismay the meteorite said nothing further, despite many questions.

***

Shan’s AI chimed, indicating a new e-mail. He glanced up at his HUD and stopped in his tracks when he saw “Ell Donsaii” on the header. Heart beating faster, he had her message brought up.

Dear Mr. Kinrais,

I would like to congratulate you on your elegant work and for recognizing that your manipulations of these mathematical conventions have significant implications for the discipline of Astrophysics.

May I suggest that we submit the attached paper for publication?

Ell Donsaii

Goose bumps prickling his skin, Shan sagged against the wall. He’d been on his way to a meeting with his advisor but he just had to look!

When the paper opened on his HUD, the thing Shan noticed most was that the authors were “Shannon Kinrais and Ell Donsaii.” He was listed first! He looked up to the title, “Some calculations regarding the effects of a 5 dimension on gravitation and redshift over great distances: A possible explanation for the galactic rotation and expanding universe problems that does not require dark matter or energy.”

Shan called his advisor, “Dr. Rhoades, I’ve just had a major insight. Can I put our meeting off until next week?”

“Kinrais,” his advisor sighed, “I hope this ‘insight’ results in some progress. I’m really thinking you’re going to need to give up on Donsaii’s weird math. It’s hard to imagine how you’re ever going to find something in those equations that twenty other grad students aren’t already writing theses on.”

“Yes sir, I’ll know by tomorrow if I’ve really got something here.”

“OK. Same time next Wednesday. If this ‘insight’ is nothing, expect to talk about choosing another problem.”

“Yes sir.”

Shan practically ran back to his cubby where he sat and opened the paper on one of his screens. As he read what Donsaii had written he began running tests and confirmatory calculations using some of the Math Department’s computing resources.

My God! He’d just sent this to Raquel last night as a series of questions about the bizarre results he got when he extrapolated her math out into intergalactic distances. This afternoon she presents him with a completely thought out, beautifully written paper concluding that his “bizarre results” actually explained the increasing redshift of the light from distant galaxies previously attributed to ever increasing acceleration of the expansion of the Universe! An explanation that didn’t require that they invoke any mysterious “Dark Energy.” An effect on gravity at great distance explained the surprising rotation of galaxies without invoking “Dark Matter” to provide additional invisible mass. Not being all that familiar with the physics part of the paper he had to keep looking up data on acceleration of the Universe’s expansion and on galactic rotation to confirm that his results did actually correlate.

Suddenly he noticed he was hungry and checked the time, he’d missed lunch and it was nearly dinnertime! His HUD was displaying a reminder for his dinner with Raquel, damn!

Shan trotted down the sidewalk and up to the doors of IP3. When he pulled the door open he could see Raquel leaning back, elbows on the counter, tapping her foot and watching the door. “Hey, I’m so sorry, I lost track of time and…”

She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, “Yes…?”

“Uh, I’m sorry?”

“Pray tell, just what was so important that you lost all track of time and forgot about me?”

“Uh, Donsaii responded to my questions and…”

The eyebrow went back up, but her eyes twinkled, “Are you really telling me that you stood me up to read an email from another girl?”

Shan grinned and waved a hand dismissively, “Not another girl. Psssh! A famous scientist. I never really noticed she was a woman ‘til you just now pointed it out.”

“Yeah, yeah sure.” She grinned at him, “Are we gonna order, or stand around talking about your other women all night?”

Shan ordered a stromboli and Raquel four slices of pizza and a salad, once again amazing him by the sheer volume of food she intended to consume. They got their drinks, grabbed a table and sat to wait for their order to be called up.

They talked about some of the pictures of Tar Heel players up on the walls of the pizzeria while they waited. When their order was called Shan went up to get it while Raquel got silverware and napkins.

After they sat Raquel asked “So, did Donsaii explain whatever was going on with your equations?”

“Are you sure you want to talk about my other woman?” Shan raised an eyebrow at her over his Coke.

“No,” she snorted, “I’m talking about that ‘scientist that you never noticed was a woman.’”

“Oh, that one. Yeah she explained my issues alright. She explained them and incorporated them in a paper she wants to submit for publication. She thinks they explain some of the issues that have resulted in the dark energy and dark matter hypotheses.”

“Really? That sounds pretty cool. You going to let her put your stuff in a paper?”

“Oh yeah! She’s putting my name on the paper. I’ll be proud just to have my name on the same document as hers.”

“Hey!” Raquel grinned at him, “Remember you’re out on a date with me. Don’t go putting other women up on pedestals when we’re together!”

Shan tilted his head, “Come on. You’ve got to admit that that particular woman deserves to be on a pedestal?”

Raquel paused momentarily, slice of pizza in front of her mouth, then her eyes crinkled, she said, “I plead the fifth,” and stuffed in a big bite, her eyes sparkling as she chewed.

As they left for their movie, Shan looked over at her slender form and thought wonderingly about how much she ate around him. He began to worry that she might be bulimic.

At the movie he put an arm around her shoulders and she snuggled in under it. It felt so good that he left his arm there long after it started to cramp and went to sleep.

***

Deltain packed the last of the goods hie had made during the summer into a crevice in the escarpment. Hie packed in the poles that supported hies shelter and folded up the leather cover that went over the poles, putting it on top. Finally hie fit rocks in over all of it.

Strapping the few things hie was taking with himr to hies harness hie looked out to the north where much of the tribe was already flying back toward their winter home. For a moment hie again considered flying north by east to the winter home of the Olnetch tribe on the eastern slopes of the big mountain. Hie could just start over now. Why fly back to the Yetany’s cave?

Finally, admitting to himrself that hie wouldn’t rest until hie returned to the Yetany cave and looked one last time for Dex’s remains, hie launched himrself off the escarpment back toward the place hie had called home all of hies life.

***

The sky had dimmed when Syrdian called to Dex, “Let’s camp at these big rocks.”

“But if we pushed on…”

“Dex, we don’t need to reach the cave tonight! In fact, I don’t think we should take most of this stuff to the cave.”

“You don’t? But, you said… having so much would help our status!”

Syrdian had turned toward the rocks, “Remember, we don’t want them to know about the spears right away. We want to keep our new method of hunting a secret until they have accepted us. Then we’ll agree to teach them and we’ll show them the spears.”

The next morning Dex and Syrdian sorted through their bounty. They chose a large crevice in the rock face and packed away most of their dried meat and all but four of their spears. A pile of the harnesses that Dex had made, a stack of cured and tanned skins and a stack of nodules of flint and finished spear heads all went in there too. Then Syrdian carefully fitted rocks into the crevice over it, jumbling the last few so it would seem more natural.  They headed on down the mountain to the cave, arriving about midday.

Syrdian was glad to see they had arrived before the Yetany tribe’s return. Hie’d been fairly confident that hie’d judged the timing of the return migration correctly but there’d been a niggling doubt. Hie turned to Dex, “Great! They’re not here yet. I’ve got some ideas for how we can prepare for their arrival…”

***

Shan opened the door to the D5R building and stepped inside. He recognized Bridget from the first night he’d danced with Raquel sitting at the desk there. Making a little wave with his hand, he said, “Hey Bridget. I have an appointment with Ms. Donsaii this morning. Can you tell me which way to go?”

Bridget grinned hugely at him and stood, “Shan. You’re Mr. Kinrais?”

He nodded. “Is there any chance you could take me by to see Raquel while I’m here? I’m a little bit early.”

Bridget blinked as if nonplussed a moment, then said, “Uh sorry, Raquel isn’t here today.” She grinned, “But come on and I’ll take you to Ms. Donsaii. I think she’s out in the big research room this morning. She won’t mind you being early.”

Ell and Emma had their heads together studying a new rocket design on a screen when Emma nudged her arm. “Don’t look now but Bridget’s heading this way with a real hunk of man-flesh! Oooo, could that be the math whiz you’ve been waiting for?! Oh my Lord, I didn’t think mathematicians ever looked that good!”

Ell hissed, “Calm yourself girl, you don’t want me to have to tell Roger you’ve been out here salivating over another man do you?”

“Hah! You wait ‘til you see this guy. I have a right to salivate over someone that cute. Surely Roger would forgive me.”

Bridget said, “Ms. Donsaii?”

Ell turned. There was Shan, tousled hair tamed, wearing a jacket and tie. All six feet of handsome good looks that seemed even more impressive today, now that he was turned out and Emma had exclaimed on his looks. She tore her eyes off Shan and focused on Bridget, “Yes?”

“This is Mr. Kinrais, here for his appointment.”

“Oh, yes.” She stood and extended her hand, “Mr. Kinrais, thank you for coming.”

Shan felt stunned. Donsaii was about the same height and build as Raquel though she had much lighter skin and her nose wasn’t as big. Where Raquel was very pretty Donsaii was simply beautiful. Still they were somehow somewhat alike, especially the graceful way they both moved. Must be weird to see them together. “Uh, no problem. It’s my honor, thank you.”

Ell guided him to an open conference room. “Those were some amazing insights you had into the 5 dimensional math. I am just so impressed and am hoping that we can work together some more in the future. How much longer do you have on your PhD?”

He grinned sheepishly, “Maybe not much longer if I can use some of this material in my thesis?”

“Really?!” She sounded excited, “That’d be fine with me. Shall we talk about it to be sure we agree on what it all means?”

“That’d be great.”

They spent about an hour going back and forth through the paper. At one point one of Shan’s questions resulted in a period of great excitement in which they tested the effect of one of Donsaii’s equations against data on the cosmic background radiation. That data correlated too, leading Donsaii to give him a high five that left Shan’s palm stinging.

Shan left the building, head whirling. He had to present this to his advisor and Donsaii had already sent the paper in to Science. He might be able to submit for his PhD pretty soon.

He found that he couldn’t wait to tell Raquel. His thoughts had been frenetic lately. Either focused on Donsaii and her weird wonderful math or on Raquel and her… just plain wonderfulness. Maybe he shouldn’t talk to Raquel about Donsaii? He thought Raquel was kidding when she acted jealous about Donsaii but she couldn’t be really could she? It wasn’t as if he had any chance with someone like Donsaii. Famous, a genius, incredibly beautiful—Shan Kinrais would never have even had an opportunity to even speak to someone like that except for his lucky insight on her math. He suspected that someday he would be telling his grandkids about the time that he spent a morning with Ell Donsaii. He had no doubt that it would be a highlight of his life as he looked back on it.

Then he remembered that Raquel actually worked there in the same building as Donsaii. To her, perhaps Ell Donsaii wasn’t a mystical creature. Shan didn’t really think of her as legendary and unapproachable anymore after spending the morning with her. Maybe Raquel could see her as someone to be jealous of? Still, Shan desperately wanted to tell Raquel how Donsaii found his math interesting. Perhaps just a tiny bit jealousy would be the stimulus that Raquel needed to fall in love with Shan?

Wonderingly, Shan realized that somehow, without knowing how or when it happened, he loved Raquel. It had become much more serious than he had thought, while he hadn’t even been considering the possibility.

To his AI he said, “Please connect me with Raquel.”

A moment later she came on, “Hey big guy, how did it go with Donsaii?”

“Good, I’d hoped to see you though. Bridget actually took me around but she said you weren’t in today. Where are you?”

“I got sent away, I guess Donsaii didn’t want any competition while she was talking to my intended boyfriend.”

Shan’s scalp prickled, boyfriend? Could she be as serious about him as he was about her? “Would you like to come over to my place for dinner tonight? Then I can tell you all about it.”

“That’d be very nice,” Raquel said quietly, “very, very nice.”

Ell leaned back in her chair musing. She realized then just how worried she’d been that Shan would dump Raquel after he met Ell.

She snorted; how weird could she be, to worry because a man liked one version of her better than another? But, she really wanted someone who loved her, not the famous, rich “Donsaii.” It had broken her heart when Gordon had immediately turned to her rich, famous, dancing version and dropped her alter ego “Belle.” Shan calling to ask “Raquel” over for dinner immediately after meeting “Ell” lifted her soul in a way she just hadn’t anticipated.

On the other hand, she felt bad about not being honest with someone she cared this much about…

***

Dr. Rhoades heard a gentle rap on his doorframe. Looking up he saw Shan Kinrais. Brilliant, handsome, Shan Kinrais who he feared was going to destroy all his amazing potential while trying to make headway in Donsaii’s frustrating math. For a while Rhoades had thought that Kinrais might be one of the few people smart enough to actually do something new with it. But, he didn’t want Kinrais destroying his ebullient love of math, just because he couldn’t succeed in this one area of math where only the world’s most luminous genius had succeeded so far. How to get him to give it up without ruining his hope though…

Rhoades smiled at him, “You ready to give up on that funny math?”

“Uh, no sir. I’m ready to show you what I’ve worked out.”

“Oh?!” Rhoades said, leaning back in his chair, “Put it up on the big screen.” He waved offhandedly at his big wall screen and laced his hands over his stomach.

Over the next thirty minutes Kinrais astounded Rhoades by demonstrating how he’d found some odd phenomena predicted by Donsaii’s math. Then he described how these phenomena explained the increasing redshift of more distant galaxies and the excessive speed of galactic rotation without invoking dark matter or dark energy. Rhoades was a math wizard and could easily follow the odd phenomena that occurred in Donsaii’s math when applied to enormous distances. Besides, the computer plotted them out for him.

He turned to Shan, “These are really interesting findings. Of course their importance will be much greater if you are correct about them explaining away dark matter and energy. Having only superficial familiarity with the astrophysical phenomena involved I’m not as confident about that part of what you’re saying. Have you shown this to any physics experts?”

“Yes sir.”

Rhoades tilted his head, “One of your grad student buddies, or someone who really knows their stuff?”

“Ell Donsaii, sir.”

Rhoades felt his own eyes widening, “Really?!”

Kinrais nodded.

“And she says this is correct?”

“Yes sir. I only pointed out to her these odd phenomena that occur at great distances in her math. She’s the one who showed me how it explained the red shift and rotation phenomena.”

“Oh, so she already knew about this?”

“Uh, no sir. I told her about the distance phenomena I’d observed in her math and she worked out the astrophysical implications over one night.”

Rhoades tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling, “My Lord, that girl’s smart! Well, the two of you should publish this and I’m sure your part in it will get you that PhD you’ve been chasing.”

“Thank you sir. She’s already submitting this paper.”

Rhoades looked at the screen again and saw a manuscript listing Kinrais as first author. “Amazing! If you’re going to be first author on a paper with Donsaii, I should buy you a beer. Hell, the whole department should buy you beers. You up to going out with a few of us?”

“Yes sir. Not tonight though. I’ve got a date to cook dinner for my girlfriend.”

“Hah, I’ll bet you burn it!”

Shan grinned lopsidedly, “I probably will.”

***

Dex coasted in for a landing on the big shelf in front of the Yetany cave. “Syrdian! I found a small herd of zornits in the meadow just up from the cave!”

Syrdian’s head swiveled around, “Great! I’ve just finished here, let’s go get one.”

Dex looked around. Wood had been stacked in the fire pit ready to be lit. The big ledge in front of the cave had been swept clean. Hie could see that Syrdian had even stacked and rearranged the supplies in the common storage area. At the north end of the big ledge Syrdian had carefully stacked the supplies they’d brought down to the cave on top of Dex’s big zornit hide leathers. There were some of hies harnesses, a few nodules of flint, some of the flint knives Syrdian had made, a leather bag of dried meat and sitting on top of it all, Dex’s meteorite, upright on its legs. Hie tilted hies head, “Why is our stuff down at the end there?”

“So it’ll be obvious what we’re bringing to the tribe if they accept us.”

“Oh.”

“Are you ready?”

Dex’s wings rose, “Sure.”

Syrdian grinned at himr. “Don’t you think we should take the travois to bring a zornit back on?”

Dex grinned, “If you’re so sure we’re going to get one, it’d be a good idea, yeah.”

“I think it’ll bring bad luck to go up there without the travois. We don’t want the spirits to think we don’t expect to have a good hunt.”

Soon they were hiking up the mountain pulling their two empty travois. They made a short detour to pick up their spears from the place they’d hidden them, then took a game trail through a brief stretch of forest into the meadow where Dex had seen the zornits.

Dex’s wings sagged in relief when hie saw the zornits were still there. They were pretty close to where the game trail came out onto the meadow so they set the travois down and took their spears back down the trail to the open area on the other side of the forested area.

“Ready?” Dex asked. When Syrdian dipped hies head Dex beat into the air, thinking how nice it was to be flying at this lower altitude again. Once hie had enough altitude, hie checked on Syrdian with hies back eyes then swept out and back around to drop into the meadow just over the tree line, stooping on the zornits. As usual the zornits scattered before himr. Hie chose one, beating wing after it, then flaring over it to slam hies spear down over its shoulder. The spear hit a rib and bounced off relatively harmlessly. Dex wheeled right, switching the second spear hie’d been carrying to hies right hand. Syrdian, sailed over the zornit, slamming a spear home and wheeling left.  Dex finished hies turn and beat hard after the panicked zornit successfully plunging hies second spear into place.  It must have hit the brain because the zornit immediately dropped skidding and quivering to the ground.

As per their tradition Dex and Syrdian landed by the zornit embracing in celebration and dancing up and down. This was their tenth zornit hunt but only their fourth successful one. Syrdian unwrapped hies neck from Dex’s and said, “It is a wonderful omen that we had this fruitful hunt right before the tribe’s return.”

***

Done up as Raquel, Ell walked up the walk to the little house Shan shared with Ryan. The door opened and Ryan came out. “Hi Ryan. Are you leaving?”

“Yes,” he rolled his eyes, “banished from my own home so that my roommate can have his way with you. It’s shameful.”

“Oh! Don’t go on my behalf. I’d be happy to split my dinner with you.”

“Hah, no you wouldn’t! Shan’s told me how much you eat.”

Ell blushed.

He leaned close and whispered, “Besides I’m happy to go. He’s been acting like a moony eyed fool. ‘Raquel this and Raquel that.’” He winked, “I can hardly stand being around him in this state.”

Shan appeared in the doorway, an oven mitt on his hand. “Ryan, you promised you’d get out of here without harassing my new girlfriend.”

Ryan winked at Ell, then turned to say, “Your girlfriend? She’s just agreed to go out with me tomorrow night. You’d better hope your cooking’s better than your usual if you want to keep her.” He headed on down to the sidewalk.

Ell climbed the steps to Shan who put his arms around her. “Don’t leave me for that guy. No matter how bad you think my cooking is, his is a lot worse.”

“Girlfriend?” she asked.

“You’re the one who called me your ‘intended boyfriend,’” he grinned, then drew himself up and put a hand on his chest, “I accept.” He looked down at the dish in her hand, “You brought something?” he narrowed his eyes, “Just in case my lasagna isn’t edible?”

“Dessert, I knew you wouldn’t have enough for a growing girl like me.”

Shan laughed and led her inside.

To Ell’s surprise the lasagna was excellent. She lifted her last forkful at him, “This is amazing. A mathematician clogger, who plays basketball and can cook? Who would have thought?”

“Ah Raquel, Raquel,” he shook his head despairingly, “I have depths you haven’t even come close to plumbing.”

“Good to hear that there’s a little mystery left,” she said, eyes crinkling. “I’ll hope to discover those depths a little at a time, so as to keep me interested?”

“Yeah,” he grinned ruefully. “I’ll have to reveal them one micron at a time so you don’t realize just how shallow they are.”

“So you were going to tell me what Donsaii thought of the issues you had with her math?”

“She is amazing you know?” Then at the appearance of an arched eyebrow he hurried to say, “Though not as amazing as Raquel Blandon, the girl I love.”

Raquel tilted her head, “You love me?” she asked huskily.

***

Deltain daydreamed as hie flew near the back end of one of the “V” shaped flights of the Yetany tribe. In hies mind hie’d been planning out the locations hie would check one last time for evidence of Dex’s remains. Hie should be able to check them tomorrow, then head east for hies new life with the Olnetch tribe. Hie didn’t think hie’d be able to stand it, living at the Yetany’s cave with its constant reminders of Dex.

Hie’d never really understood the depths of hies love for hies child while Dex was still alive. Hies heart ached with the memory of times when hie could and should have told Dex how proud hie was of himr. The beautiful harnesses that Dex made. Hies little insights into better ways to do things.

They entered a long glide and Deltain realized they were finally coasting down toward the cave. Quite a few flights had already landed and dalin were crowding the big ledge in front of the cave. There were usually a lot of dalin on the ledge right after landing, but this seemed… different. They seemed excited? Or disturbed, or something? Deltain noticed there was a large fire in the fire pit, had someone flown ahead?

As hie coasted in the last bit of the distance hies heart beat faster. Hie saw a distinctive silvery yellow color on a pair of wings. A color that few had and… only Syrdian had had such brilliant color. Could Syrdian have survived? Could Dex?! Hies eyes scanned rapidly over the crowd and then settled back on the strapping big golden brown dalin with the complex harness standing next to Syrdian!

Deltain broke hies glide and beat wing to lift himrself up over the crowd, “Dex!” hie cried. “Dex!”

Dex’s wings arched and spread in response. Hie stepped back, spread wings pushing dalin back to clear a space in front of himr where hie waved hies hands for Deltain to land.

Deltain flared wing and settled in front of Dex. Tall Dex, standing proud, no longer looking cowed as hie had in the past. Standing like one confident in hies status. Dex strode the two steps to Deltain, throwing arms and wings around himr. Deltain felt overwhelmed but distantly noticed that Dex was suddenly significantly taller than Deltain was. They wrapped necks around one another, “Parent!” Dex said with a juddery voice.

“Child!” Deltain said in juddery response. “How did you survive the summer?”

“We went up the mountain to where it’s cooler.”

“We?”

“Syrdian and I. We’re mated now.”

Deltain’s eyes widened, “But Syrdian…” Hie broke off turning to look at Syrdian. Syrdian stood with hies parents but was looking at Deltain. Syrdian lifted hies wings gently, spreading them. Deltain noticed large slightly rippled marks in Syrdian’s right wing with curious little dots along them. Hie’d never noticed those before

Suddenly Bultaken, first among the Yetany stepped into their little tableau. “Syrdian! You’re alive! That’s wonderful! We thought that you were killed…” Hie stumbled to a stop, staring at Syrdian’s right wing which Syrdian had again lifted to display the funny marks. “What happened to your wing? Where did you spend the summer?”

Syrdian drew himrself up, “My wing was torn by a talor. Ripped badly with enormous holes where you see these marks! Qes was there, but he fled.” Syrdian’s tone as hie said “fled” left little doubt about how Syrdian felt about Qes now. “While Qes flew away, leaving me to the talor, Dex arrived and killed it. Then, like hie does hies amazing leatherwork, Dex sewed up my wing.”

The crowd had all had their fore eyes on Syrdian. Now they turned to stare at Dex.

Syrdian continued with disgust, “Qes left me for dead,” and with love, “but Dex stayed with me and kept me alive through the summer when I couldn’t fly south.”

The crowd near Syrdian backed away from himr, a few muttering “dyatso.” Syrdian said, “I am not dyatso! With Dex’s magic sutures holding it, my wing healed and I can fly again.” In the space that had appeared around himr hie beat briefly into the air to the astonished moans of many of the dalin surrounding himr. Thier wings rose involuntarily in amazement.

A commotion appeared in the crowd and then Qes pushed through to stare at Syrdian, then stole a glance at hies wing. Qes, who to Deltain’s disgust, over the summer had broken up the near-mating of Fantais and Malten by making evident hies wish to mate with Fantais now that Syrdian had been lost. “Syrdian!” hie cried, stepping forward, arms outstretched.

Deltain felt a quiver run over Dex but Syrdian blocked Qes’ approach with an outstretched arm. “I’m mated to Dex now. Even if I weren’t I wouldn’t want to be with the dalin who left me when I was injured.”

Qes said plaintively, “But you were dyatso!”

“I fly, and I’m not dead!” Syrdian’s eyes turned lovingly to Dex, “Thanks to Dex.”

“Is this a zornit?” someone cried from over near the fire pit. Eyes turned that way.

Deltain realized that hie’d been smelling something wonderful ever since hie’d landed. Hie turned hies head and stretched hies neck up to look over the dalin behind himr. A very large animal had been broken down and was roasting over a large fire in the pit. Hie wondered briefly if someone had flown in a day early and found a zornit fallen off a cliff or something?

Syrdian said, “Yes, that’s a zornit. Dex has learned how to hunt them. We killed it yesterday and began roasting it this morning to welcome you Yetany on your return.” Murmurs of awe and interjections of disbelief shot through the crowd.

Deltain turned hies eyes searchingly to Dex, “Really?!”

Dex dipped hies head yes.

“And you repaired hies wing?”

Dex dipped hies head again.

Deltain frowned, “Who taught you to do that?”

Dex grinned, wings quivering with mirth, “You did.”

Deltain’s head went up and back in disbelief, “I?”

“I did it just like a side to side joint in leather.”

“Really?!”

“Really.”

Bultaken said unbelievingly, “How do you claim that you hunt zornit?”

Syrdian drew himrself up, “We will probably teach you, but it will depend on the rank we are given in the tribe.”

Tanif, one of Syrdian’s parents, reached out for Syrdian’s arm saying, “You still have high rank from us. We will not permit you to mate with Dex, hie is not of sufficient rank for us to even consider it.”

Syrdian dodged Tanif’s hand and walked over to Dex. Hie stepped up to the other side of Dex from Deltain and put an arm around himr, “I told you, I’m already mated to Dex. You have not seen the amazing things hie can do—someday hie will be first among the Yetany… There is no doubt about that.

I am proud to tell you that I carry hies child… and hie mine.”

Deltain’s head whipped around to stare and hies eyes widened to hear this. For both members of a mated couple to carry child at the same time was a very rare and highly venerated omen… Deltain’s wings quivered with the joy hie felt to have gone from childless and lonely to being the parent of an enormously accomplished child… and to have two grandchildren on the way. Hies hearts sang…

Epilogue

In the morning, Shan woke to the sound of the shower running in the bathroom behind him. He felt indescribably happy and wondered why for a moment, then the events of the past few days washed over him.

Could all this be true? Not a dream? Raquel, the wonderful Raquel, and the sweet joy of the time he’d been spending with her!

His questions about weird extrapolations of Donsaii’s math, explained by the amazing Donsaii herself?

The meeting of a lifetime with Ell Donsaii, surely something he’d remember for the rest of his life!

Realizing that he loved Raquel.

His advisor accepting his work with Donsaii’s math as worthy of his PhD dissertation.

Last night…! Last night had been astonishing in ways he could never have believed before living through it…

He stretched and rolled over to face the bathroom door, ready to enjoy looking at the love of his life again.

After long minutes he was feeling frustrated, but then the door cracked open. He threw his arm up over his face, peering under and thinking to himself, I’ll pretend I’m still asleep as she enters the room.

The door opened farther and two feet appeared in it, visible beneath his arm.

They were paler and pinker than they should be!

Confused, he slowly lifted his arm, peering under it. Lithe calves and knees, check, but also too lightly colored. Then brunette hair, the right color, but down by her knee?

He wondered, is she bending over?

She didn’t move so he raised his arm slowly as if he were stretching in his sleep. A light skinned hand appeared, holding a brunette wig.

Wig?!

Heart suddenly pounding he threw his arm back. Short strawberry blond hair!

There, leaning in the doorframe of his bathroom, holding Raquel’s hair and wearing nothing but a towel was Ell Donsaii!

Grinning at him!

“Hi Shan,” she said quietly in Raquel’s voice…

The End

If you liked reading about the “primitives” in this book you might also like reading my novel “Bonesetter” about primitive humans. The first three chapters are provided as a sample at the end of this book.

Hope you liked the book!

If so, please give it a positive review on Amazon.

Try the next in the series, to be published someday.

Author’s Afterword

This is a comment on the “science” in this science fiction novel. I have always been partial to science fiction that posed a “what if” question. Not everything in the story has to be scientifically possible, but you suspend your disbelief regarding one or two things that aren’t thought to be possible. Then you ask, what if something (such as faster than light travel) were possible, how might that change our world? Each of the Ell Donsaii stories asks at least one such question.

“Tau Ceti” continues asking what kinds of cool things we could do with even small wormholes or “ports,” but it also asks, “what if” we actually reach another life bearing world out amongst the stars? How might it be different? A common assumption in science fiction is that Earth is the “typical” life bearing world and that the kinds of worlds that might bear life will be similar. For interest there might be some “odd” worlds that are different than Earth in some way. That there might be “heavy” worlds where the beings are massively muscled, or snowy worlds, farther from their suns but that they will be the oddballs.

Here I’ve tried to consider the question “what if” the “Goldilocks zone” (where worlds are the right temperature for liquid water and presumably life) is farther out because the atmosphere on most worlds is denser and has a stronger greenhouse effect than Earth’s? Such a dense atmosphere would mean that more animals would fly right? Because it would be easier for even large animals to fly in dense air. Especially if that atmosphere had a high oxygen content which could support a hotter metabolism capable of driving those wings. One prevailing theory is that the reason large pterosaurs could fly back in the Triassic and Cretaceous (the biggest birds of today are much smaller than pterosaurs were and yet can barely take off) was because Earth’s atmosphere had a higher oxygen content, and that the atmosphere may have been denser back then too.

Another interesting question is, “If you were a intelligent flying being who lived a much more three dimensional life than we humans do, wouldn’t you have a separate word for many of the different directions in your three dimensional life?” I’ve tried to give life to this concept by hyphenating a direction such as “back-up-right” thus implying that the teecees might have a separate word for that direction.

I’ve often wondered if Earth might be at one extreme of the spectrum of life bearing worlds out there. What if Earth is at the big, heavy, thin atmosphered end of the spectrum of living worlds? What if, when we get out there, we turn out to be the “heavy worlders” who are heavily muscled and we’re among the very few intelligent species who can’t fly?

Bummer.

Acknowledgements

I would like to acknowledge the editing and advice of Gail Gilman, Elene Trull, Kerry McIntyre and Nora Dahners, each of whom significantly improved this story.

BONESETTER

(Sample)

By

Laurence E Dahners

Available at your e-book seller

Pre-prologue

“Bonesetter.”

A humble childhood had the boy who would one day be known as such.

He was born one cold and bitter winter night to a woman called Donte, who gathered and cooked for the Aldans tribe. His father Garen was a flint worker. Garen named his son Pell, a term in their language for a flake of flint.

During Pell’s seventh winter, before Garen had taught his son more than the rudiments of flint working, Garen developed pains in stomach, then fevers, then agony. He died a few days later. When Garen knew that his death approached, he called to Pell. Mildly delirious from the fever, Garen gritted his teeth against the pain. He said, “I have seen the death spirit Pell—and know it comes for me.” Garen gasped a moment, but then continued, “I hope that you will become a great hunter. But… I have watched you playing with the other boys and ... I fear that you will not have the hunting skill. I didn’t and sons often take after their fathers. Thank the spirits, you don’t have the ‘clubbed foot’ like I did though. If you are like me, your ‘skill’ will be in the making of tools and in being able to see better ways to do things. The others of the tribe may not recognize such abilities as worthy skills. But Pell, whether the others recognize your value or not, where they are strong and quick, you must make and use tools…” He slipped away for a moment, then whispered, “I’m sorry—sorry I didn’t teach you how to work flint.” The boy sobbed as Garen’s consciousness lapsed.

Pell’s father did not wake coherent again, only a few times—babbling.

His father had been dead for many years before Pell understood what his final words had meant. His father was wrong in the long run, about peoples’ recognition of Pell’s abilities. Pell himself did not recognize the truth of the words, “your ‘skill’ will be in the making of tools and in the vision of better ways,” until after many others had already recognized the enormous power that Pell’s “great skill” truly held.

Chapter One

The first dislocated joint that Pell reduced, he reduced on himself.

It was a bitterly cold day, nearing the end of winter. Sharp winds and densely overcast skies made it even more unpleasant. He and his friend Boro, both scrawny, undernourished boys of thirteen summers, were returning from yet another unsuccessful hunt. Hunger pangs gnawed their guts and weariness steeped their bones as they plodded homeward. As usual by this late in the cold months, the sparse winter game near the cave had been hunted out. Most big game had migrated anyway, and many of the animals that did stay nearby were hibernating.

The stores of grain and roots put up in the cave during the previous summer were mostly eaten or spoilt. Meat killed at the beginning of winter and placed under rock cairns to freeze had almost all been eaten or else had been dug up by industrious scavengers. What was left was being rationed severely by Roley. The Aldans had used up the layers of fat they had built up by gorging themselves during the plentiful kills of summer. They desperately needed to move away from the cave area to a hunting ground that had not been exhausted, at least until the plentiful game of the warmer months returned. Unfortunately, the weather was still too cold for the tribe to try to live without a cave for shelter. They lived in grass huts in the summers but even trying to build the huts could be life threatening in this weather. There was talk of trying to do it anyway, but their summer hunting grounds were two days walk away. Traveling to those grounds, carrying their possessions, in this frigid weather, in their current poorly nourished state, would be fatal to some of the weaker members of the Aldans. Then they would have to build their huts—which wouldn’t be warm enough…

On the fateful day of his injury, Pell and Boro had gone out for an entire day’s hunt up on the sere plateau above the cave to the north—the tribe’s better hunters had taken the more desirable southerly directions into the forests and meadows downstream, nearer to the great river. Down south the trees broke the cold winds. Pell and Boro had walked half a day northward on the blustery plateau and then looped back. Pell had seen but a single gaunt snow hare on this hunt. His and Boro's stones had both missed; in fact neither even came close. But that was to be expected; the two friends were clumsy adolescents who were wide of the mark more often than naught.

As daylight faded, they walked carefully back down the steep path above the cave, but Pell’s right foot slipped on a small patch of ice that persisted in a shaded part of the worn path. Later his toppling would replay in his mind over and over and over—as if in slow motion. His right hand flailing back to break his fall, his cold, numb fingers catching on one of the boulders at the edge of the path. His right buttock and elbow striking the rocky path simultaneously, sending shock waves through him. His head cracking down onto stone with a “whock” that resonated through his skull. A few seconds passed in the sure knowledge that something would soon be agonizing.

Then the pain arrived. His elbow wracked in torment. His head and buttock simply ached. The full magnitude of the disaster hadn't struck home until the moment that he reached up to rub his head… his fingers weren't working correctly! He shook the furs back from his arm to look at his hand. With dismay, he saw his pointer finger was deformed! It was disjointed at the second knuckle from the tip so that the distal part bent back and away from his palm. Because of the angle, the pad at the tip wouldn't touch items he reached for with it, just then his head. As he stared at the deformed finger, the pain from it finally arrived at his brain, despite the numbing effect of the cold. However, the pain held a distant second place to the gibbering terror shouting through his system at the thought of being a “cripple” or ginja.

Memories ripped through Pell.

-Durr with his broken arm—broken in a fall during one of the hunts that were Durr's great skill.

-The hushed clan staring at Durr as he returned with the other hunters, clutching his swollen, deformed arm—grossly twisted and angled midway between the wrist and elbow—the grimace of pain and terror on his face.

-The wracked agony of Durr’s cries as Pont, the Aldans’ healer, tried over and over to straighten his grotesque arm.

-The elation on Durr's face when the clan voted to let him stay the summer because, that summer at least, the hunting was good.

-The growing despair as the weeks passed and the arm remained crooked and useless. Each day Pont had tried anew to straighten the arm but, despite the agony it brought Durr, the limb remained deformed and useless.

-The arrival of Fall with Durr still unable to cast a spear or throw a stone.

His pitiful attempts to do so with his left hand.

-The horrific day that Roley declared Durr "ginja" or "useless,” and sent him away.

-The stoop of his shoulders as he slowly trudged away to certain death.

Durr had only had the one great skill—hunting. He hadn’t had any “small skills” that he could perform with one arm. He had no “great knowledge” to teach the others because there were many other hunters. And, so Roley said, he must be exiled and go forth to remove his burden from the clan.

Pell had been the one who discovered Durr’s ragged remains at the bottom of the Cliff two days after Durr had been exiled. Pell had heard hyenas coughing and grunting at the base of the Cliff. There were only a few and Pell had been able to frighten them away with a few stones, hoping to garner some of the hyenas’ meal for himself and the clan. As Pell had come closer he had recognized Durr's spear and some of his furs. His corpse reeked of rot. Pell wept for hours on that day. The tears kept coming back as he pictured the once proud Durr jumping from the Cliff, rather than starving or falling prey to one of the great cats.

A great tremor ran across Pell's shoulders as he stared at his finger. With a cry he grasped the finger in his left hand and pulled as hard he could in an effort to straighten it. Agony shot through his hand and arm and a grating, grinding sensation emanated from the finger itself.

He stared at the finger. It remained as deformed as before. He thought to himself "it's just a finger," recalling others in the clan who had prospered despite a bad finger.

But, Pell knew with a certainty that he hadn't been among the good spear casters or stone throwers even when his hand had been normal! What were his chances with a bad finger? Though he thought of hunting as his “great skill” he knew in his heart that he wasn’t really much of a hunter. Though he’d hoped and prayed for one of the older men to take him under their wing, no one had even tried to teach him a “lesser” skill since his father had died.

Now the finger was turning a dusky blue color! He felt a roiling in his stomach—Kana's finger had turned blue, then black, after being crushed under a boulder she and Tando had been trying to move—soon after that, the rest of her hand had begun to swell and turn red. This was followed by swelling of the whole arm—high fevers followed, with Kana going out of her head. Her hand had burst open, draining fluids with horrible odors shortly before she died. Tando's finger had been caught under the same rock but at a sharp corner and was cut completely off. It had taken a while but the wound had healed and Tando remained a respected hunter. It had only been the small finger on his lesser left hand after all.

Connecting these two facts in his mind, Pell quickly decided if the finger was turning blue, he would be better off without it. He heard a gagging sound and looked up to see Boro staring at Pell’s finger with enormous round eyes. Boro’s hand was over his mouth. Boro turned and retched. Pell felt his own gorge rising—he choked it back—he was too hungry to spare anything that might be in his stomach! He scrabbled out his flint knife and laid it against the finger, directly over the most deformed part. Then, in his mind he saw a scene from the previous summer. He had been assigned to gather trophies from the body of a man the Aldans had killed while fighting with the Kinto tribe over a particularly rich hunting area. Pell had been surprised at just how difficult it had been to saw through the man’s fingers. Nonetheless Pell steeled his nerve to saw off his own finger. He repositioned the blade several times but finally dropped the knife to his side in disgust at his inability to even begin cutting into his own finger.

Maybe if he walked back to the cave Pont would be able to put his finger back in place—he was, after all, their "healer", though it usually it seemed that there was little enough that Pont could do. Or would do. Maybe Pont could cut the finger off for Pell? Pell struggled slowly to his feet and limped on down the path to the cave.

Boro had run ahead so that when Pell arrived, Pell’s mother Donte was already outside the cave. Hair in disarray, she wrung her hands, tears streaming down her face. “Oh, Pell…” she began.

Determined to be brave, Pell marched past her into the cave to find the healer. With disgust he saw the bandy legged Pont sitting in his "healer’s corner" with a glazed expression on his face. He'd been chewing his own herbs again! Roley had once demanded that the healer stop taking his own medicines but Pont insisted, claiming that a good healer must take his medicines himself in order to understand and guide their powers. It seemed, however, that Pell mostly chewed the hemp leaves that made you glow inside. Some of the adults joked that Pont “had the powers of the hemp completely mastered.” Though they only said such things well outside of Pont’s hearing. Even the massive Roley quailed before the healer’s potential anger, allowing him to do as he pleased. One never knew when one might need the healer’s powers for your own benefit.

Pont peered owlishly at Pell's finger. The healer rocked back and forth and it seemed that he could hardly focus his close-set eyes. He pulled on Pell’s finger perfunctorily. The tug stung like the bite of an angry child but did nothing to restore the form of the finger. Pont squinted at it a moment longer then dropped to his knees and began to rummage through his baskets.

"What are you looking for?" Pell heard himself asking in a querulous voice.

"Dried hemp and other herbs to help ease the pain, boy!" was the slurred answer as Pont held out a handful.

Pell didn’t see any “other herbs” besides hemp in the handful he was given. He stuffed it in his mouth and began to chew. "The finger’s so cold I can hardly feel it anyway. What now?" Pell mumbled around a mouthful.

“Give it time to work! Come back when your head sways.” Pell saw with dismay Pont putting more hemp in his own mouth!

Pell wandered about the camp chewing his own mouthful until his head began to swim and then returned to Pont.

“You’re gonna have to wait a bit!” Pell said crossly, “even the Healer has to piss once in a while.” He heaved himself to his feet and made his way unsteadily out of the cave.

Pell stood uncertainly, swaying a little until Pont returned. “Let me see it,” Pont said reaching out.

Pell tendered his finger and Pont grasped it, pulling mightily. Despite the cold and the effects of the hemp it hurt savagely and Pell crouched, howling in agony. When Pont released the finger Pell turned to look at it hopefully. His finger looked the same! He looked accusingly at Pont but the healer had already turned and begun rummaging through his herbs. “What now?” Pell asked with some trepidation.

"A poultice to stop the swelling.”

"No! That's what you did for Kana! She died! Cut my finger off, like Tando's!"

"I can't cut your finger off, you ginja fool!" Pont ducked his head a little in embarrassment at his slip of tongue.

Pell stared at him aghast—ginja (useless) was a common swear word or insult, but not one that you would use on someone who might actually become ginja! Pell felt the hemp making his world slow down. Rather than making everything feel better as it had on the other occasions that Pell had given him hemp, a black rage built from deep inside him and rapidly swelled—he felt his face flash hot. "I'll take it off myself then" he shouted, his voice breaking into a squeak at the end. He gripped his finger with his left hand and bent it even farther backward, as if to break a green stick by wrenching it back and forth—as he bent it back he pulled mightily in order to rip the offending digit from his hand. His hands flew apart with a violent jerk—for a second he thought he had succeeded in pulling off the finger. He peered at his left palm but to his disappointment there was no dismembered fingertip resting in his left hand.

Then he stared in shock at his injured right pointer finger. It remained swollen, but it had been restored to a normal shape! He tried to move it and it wiggled! As he watched, its dusky color flushed pink—then brighter red than his other fingers. He worked it some more in growing amazement.

A foul odor bit his nose and then he noticed the healer standing in front of him with one of his poultices of half rotted leaves. Pont stared at the relocated finger, eyes wide with surprise but his expression quickly turned to calculation. "See, boy, I told you those herbs would work!"

Wide eyed Pell stepped back. Then he shouted, "Your cursed hemp didn't fix my finger! I fixed my finger!" Pell could hardly believe he was screaming at any adult, much less the tribe’s healer, but he was drunk with the effects of the hemp.

Pont cuffed Pell brutally to the ground.

His shout brought other members of the tribe crowding around. They had all looked aside uncomfortably when Pell entered the cave earlier with his injured finger evident. Now they stared in excitement and amazement at his finger. Pont boomed, “My mixture of the special herbs put his finger back! Does he offer his gratitude? No!"

Pell opened his mouth to protest again but Tando, the respected hunter who’d lost his own small finger grasped Pell by the shoulder, “Don't argue with your healer, boy. Just be glad your finger is better. It may still turn out badly, look how swollen it is."

Pell stumbled back, holding his finger in his other hand and slurring. “It wasn’t the hemp! I fixed it! I don’t want your ginja poultice either!” The finger was warming up and the feeling was coming back with a vengeance despite the hemp he’d ingested. The finger was throbbing and tingling but Pell somehow felt that that was good. He stumbled over to the pile of leaves and furs where he and his mother slept. There he collapsed and slept.

When Pell awoke the next morning, only the urgency of his bladder dimmed the pain in his finger. It throbbed with each beat of his heart as if he were striking it with a knapping stone. After he had stumbled out of the cave to relieve himself, he quickly began to wish for more hemp. However he was sure that he would be unable to face the healer with a request for the mind addling leaves. He sat a while cradling his injured digit. Eventually he resolved to beg the healer’s forgiveness when he awakened.

Pont awakened in a surly mood however. He beat Lessa for some offense even before going out to relieve himself. When he returned he immediately began rummaging in his baskets and chewing on a mixture of his herbs.

Pell considered this a good omen, as Pont chewing on herbs usually became Pont in a good mood. After some time passed, Pell sidled over and, in a timid voice, asked if he could have some more of the hemp.

“Ha, what is this? Is this the young ginja who proclaimed my medicines useless last night? Get out of here! You’ll get no more of the blessed hemp!”

Pont had spoken in the booming voice he cultivated for important ceremonies, so everyone in the cave heard. There was scattered laughter, which brought a flush to Pell’s face, but as he looked around he saw horror on the faces of many in the tribe. Pell realized with dismay that the healer may have sealed his fate as an outcast. He had been worried before because he was a poor throw, and therefore a third-rate hunter. His father had predicted his inferior hunting skills. Pell’s mother had consoled him with stories about how Roley himself had been clumsy until after his adolescent growth spurt. However, a gnawing fear that he would never prove to be an adequate hunter was always yammering in the back of Pell’s skull. Pell’s long dead father couldn’t teach him the secrets of flint knapping, a skill Garen had been so good at that the tribe had kept him despite his small, twisted foot which, in addition to his natural lack of hunting skill, had left him useful only as a beater during large hunts. Pell had tried working some flint in hopes that his father’s gift had somehow passed to him naturally and would blossom without training. Unfortunately, the points Pell had made so far had been no better than the untrained efforts of any of the other tribe members and worse than many. To get good points the Aldans were forced to trade with other tribes at the summer gatherings.

Other than his mother, Boro was Pell’s only friend. It often seemed as if that friendship was only a result of the fact that Boro’s social standing was as low as Pell’s. Both clumsy, they were social outcasts bound together by their unspoken fear of becoming ginja. Once Boro and Pell had, in a fit of emotion, pledged to leave the tribe together if either of them were cast out. Pell looked over at Boro. Boro stared into his own lap and avoided Pell’s eyes—as did pretty much everyone else in the cave except his mother Donte. Pell returned to his bedding and collapsed to nurse his misery.

Pell found that if he kept his finger high in the air it didn’t throb as much. It remained swollen but he could move it still, as he proved to himself over and over, despite the pain involved. He found himself holding it next to his middle finger so that that good finger could protect it. There was nothing but a thin gruel of roots to eat that day. Pell didn’t have the courage to get any himself the way people had been looking at him but his mother brought him a bowl of it and sat behind him grooming his hair while he ate. He felt comforted by her actions but his stomach sank again when he saw the way people looked at him. He could tell that many of them were already thinking of him as “ginja.” They didn’t want him eating their food if he would be cast out to die soon anyway.

The next day, having tired of holding the injured pointer finger and its neighboring middle finger together with his other hand, he bound them together with a thong. At first he wrapped the two fingers together but had difficulty tying the fingers together with only the one other hand to work with. Finally he managed to tie a small noose in a thong and slipped the loop around the base of the fingers. Then he wrapped a few turns and cinched a couple of half hitches about the fingers. He found that his hand could function almost normally with a short wrap of thong between each of the joints. He decided that he should go out on a hunt so that the Aldans would see him trying to contribute. He looked about for Boro but couldn’t find him. Eventually he embarked on a hunt all by himself.

As he trudged up a little side valley toward the plateau above he knew in his heart that this hunting trip would be a farce, but he waited until he was far from sight of the cave to try throwing with his injured hand. As he had feared, the pain in his bound finger made him even clumsier than usual. He practiced throwing for a while but soon realized that there was even less chance than usual that he would hit anything that day. Nonetheless he trudged on. It was a clear, windless, cold day without a cloud in the sky but in his tired and hungry state, he had no appreciation for its placid beauty. Instead, he cringed from its cold bite, trying to draw into his furs.

Suddenly a white snow hare exploded from under his feet! Daydreaming, he hadn’t noticed it until he had nearly stepped on it! Pell was so frightened that he dropped the stone he held in his injured hand and nearly fell again. The hare shot across the floor of the little ravine and disappeared. Pell followed it half-heartedly to the spot where it disappeared and stood, looking around disconsolately.

Suddenly he recognized that he was standing beside a hole! The rabbit had its own little cave! He crouched down and reached into the hole as far as he could—no rabbit. He sat by the hole and pondered. If he waited long enough, would it have to come out? Might he catch it then?

Who was he kidding? He wasn’t fast enough to catch a rabbit!

Perhaps if he covered the hole with a fur? No, then the rabbit just wouldn’t come out at all. As he sat contemplating the problem, he unwound one of the thongs from his finger—the finger remained swollen but pink. He could still wiggle it. Daydreaming, he played with the thong a bit, tying the knots that he had learned. While practicing the slip knot that he had used to start the wrap on his finger, he fumbled and dropped the thong. When he picked it up, the loop in the end caught on a small stump next to the rabbit hole. When he jerked on the thong the little noose that he had formed cinched tight around the stump. He had to scoot down next to the stump and work it loose.

The idea came to him that he might make a similar loop catch around the rabbit somehow, and thereby slow it down enough that he could catch or club it. He tied one end of the thong to the little stump next to the hole. Then he propped the slip loop about the opening of the rabbit’s hole with bits of brush and twigs so that the opening in the noose was somewhat bigger than a rabbit’s head. He got up and walked away from the hole while getting out another thong and rewrapping his fingers. He stepped behind a boulder almost fifteen paces from the rabbit hole. He picked out a stick to club the hare with and knelt down in a sprinter’s crouch to watch. He envisioned the rabbit coming out and becoming briefly entangled in the loop. While it was freeing itself, he would make a mad dash in with his club.

He waited almost an hour. His excitement had faded and he was leaning on one haunch against the boulder when he saw several vultures circling to the east. With a groan, he got up and started that way hoping that whatever held the vultures’ interest remained edible.

When he got to the area the vultures had been circling he found nothing. Either the vulture had been deceived or some other scavenger had already dragged it away.

He thought disgustedly that the rabbit hole was out of his way back home. Pell debated a minute but decided that he should at least salvage the thong he had left there. There probably remained enough daylight. He trudged back that way.

As he came around the corner he saw a puff of white about two feet from the hole! He picked up a stone and crept closer—it was the rabbit!

He threw but missed as usual. The rabbit didn’t move though! As he came closer he saw the thong biting deeply into the rabbit’s neck. After being caught, the rabbit’s violent thrashing had apparently broken its own neck or strangled it.

Pell was beside himself with excitement. He had never successfully hunted before. He’d contributed to group kills, sure, but he’d never killed an animal by himself. He would gain status in the tribe when he brought home this rabbit! Status was something he desperately needed. He never considered trying to eat the rabbit himself. No matter how hungry he was, the value of the nutrition in the rabbit could not compare to the value of at last being recognized as someone with the potential to become a hunter.

Pell threw the rabbit over his shoulder and started back jauntily. He contemplated in his mind his reception back at the cave and how he would describe his hunt. An unerring stone that struck the rabbit dead in its tracks? Suddenly Pell stopped on the trail as he realized that the hare’s carcass showed no evidence of being struck by a stone.

He took it down from his shoulder and looked at it for a moment then ran his fingers over it, pondering his story. For an instant he considered describing how he had actually ensnared the animal. But, no one would believe him—besides, the prestige of his “perfectly cast stone” would be lost forever. After more contemplation he lay the animal down, backed up a few paces and cast a stone at its prostrate form.

He missed!

Disgusted, he threw several more times and was about to walk over and manually strike the rabbit with a rock when a throw finally struck its hindquarters. He reexamined the carcass. The portion of the hind limb just below the knee was deformed, with the lower leg sticking out at an angle. It reminded him of his deformed finger from the day of his fall. He pondered this for a while, then tugged on it but was unable to get it back out to normal length. Then he pulled as hard as he could. Still when he let go it remained shortened and angulated. He thought back to how he had bent his finger back when he had tried to rip it off his hand. Only when he bent it backwards had his finger slipped back into place.

As he had bent his finger, so he bent the rabbit’s leg in the same direction it was already deformed, bending it beyond ninety degrees. Then, rather than pulling on it to make it longer, he “pushed” the apex of the angle out, as he had when trying to rip off his finger. To his delight the hare’s bone crunched slightly, then felt as if something slipped back into place. When he straightened out the angle in the limb, it held its length and lay nearly straight! With a little push, he straightened it the rest of the way. He pulled it back out to the side and it fell apart again. He felt it carefully. He could tell the bones weren’t in contact like they should be because when he pushed on them the limb shortened. In addition it was floppy and tended to lie in a bent position. He reduced the fracture again using his trick of bending it more before trying to bring it back out to length. It worked again! He displaced it again and tried reducing it in a number of other ways. None of them worked! No matter how he pulled and tugged, it wouldn’t go back into place until he first bent it back at an angle. He was very puzzled by the whole thing, not realizing that he had discovered a “bonesetting” principle—a principle that would still be in use thousands and thousands of years later. He wanted to cut the leg open to try to find out why it worked but knew that if he brought the rabbit back to the cave cut open, someone would think he had eaten part of it without sharing. After a moment’s consideration he shook the leg back out of place, put the rabbit back over his shoulder and resumed his way home. The forest thickened and the game trail he was on led slowly back to the little valley where the Aldans’ cave lay.

When he arrived back at the cave, Pell’s mother Donte was the first to see him. She greeted him first with a little wave but shortly thereafter with a loud cry when she recognized that he had a snow hare draped over his shoulder.

Donte appeared more excited than Pell about the kill. He realized that she too, was worried that her son might be declared “ginja” if he didn’t develop hunting skills soon. Such being the case she intended to broadcast his success to the rest of their little community as strongly as possible.

He was grateful for her efforts, as the questions her excitement generated provided him a ready opportunity for a little bragging. He soon found himself repeating himself in the details of his “throw” which, though a little off, broke the rabbit’s leg so that he readily caught it and then broke its neck. The snow hare’s pelt, intermediate between winter white and summer gray-brown, had soon been removed. The carcass itself was gutted, broken up and thrown into one of Lenta’s pots with some water and grain and the bowl full of blood that had been drained from the animal. Then the clay pot was set into the fire. The guts were split, washed, chopped and placed back into the pot also. Though the brains would normally be used to cure the hide they also were scooped out into the pot. At this time of year nothing that was potentially edible missed it’s opportunity to become part of the “soup.”

Though one rabbit among the twenty-two of them living in the cave wasn’t much, it was better than they’d had in several days, so everyone was excited. Just as it was getting dark Gontra and Bonat came in with another hare that Gontra had killed and everyone’s spirits rose even further. To his disappointment the spotlight shifted away from Pell when Gontra arrived, but later Tando came in and when he heard of Pell’s kill, congratulated him warmly. Tando’s excellent reputation as a hunter gave the kind words even more meaning. Pell sat down to eat with an intense glow of happiness.

Pell managed to retrieve the broken thighbone from the stewpot and covertly examined it between sucking any remaining marrow from it. With all the flesh gone he could see the fracture just above the knee, and put it in and out of place with ease. No funny maneuvers were required to reduce it. After pondering a while he decided that it must be the overlying flesh that constrained the “bonesetting” to such a funny maneuver. Perhaps later that summer he could break a rabbit’s leg and cut into the flesh to understand it better.

That night, drifting off to sleep with a stomach that wasn’t growling with hunger, Pell had a period of nagging doubt regarding his deceit in claming to kill the rabbit with a thrown stone. How would he continue to deceive the others? A few witnessed throws would again bring questions regarding his ability to throw well enough to be a hunter.

To his dismay it came to a head the very next day. Belk and Lenta’s new baby had died in the night. Everyone had been expecting it because, with little to eat, Lenta’s breasts gave little milk. Expecting it or not, the tribe’s mood hung bleak about the cave and Roley decided to dispatch the hunters in small groups. Roley assigned his son Denit to take Pell and Boro with him on his hunt. Denit had fifteen summers and was bigger and stronger than Pell and Boro at only thirteen summers each. Denit considered himself a man and deeply resented being sent out to hunt with “boys.”  He strode ahead of them fuming. Once out of earshot of the cave he turned angrily. “You children had better be absolutely silent on this hunt. If you spoil my hunt I’ll bring home your ears for the dinner pot.” Pell and Boro nodded meekly as he turned on his heel and strode ahead.

Pell tried to walk quietly but to his dismay both he and Boro frequently broke twigs in the wooded areas and sent pebbles tumbling on the rocky parts. He expected Denit to turn and explode at all the noise they made, but Denit didn’t seem to notice. After a while Pell realized that Denit was making as much, if not more, noise than they were! Maybe Denit wasn’t the great hunter he made himself out to be? In fact, as Pell thought back, he realized that although Denit was always bragging to the younger boys about his hunting skills, as best Pell could remember, it had been many moons since Denit had brought home any game. Pell frowned, has Denit ever had a kill of his own?

Denit wasn’t looking around much either. Roley and Tando were always telling the boys that a good hunter surveyed his surroundings constantly. Game frequently froze in plain sight and could be very hard to see if you didn’t constantly scan the area you were passing through. With a guilty twitch Pell realized that he wasn’t scanning either—he swept his eyes to the left and then to the right. He stared! There, not thirty feet from where they were passing, was a hare standing absolutely still at the base of a bush. Nearly invisible due to its own smudgy brownish-whitish color, it just sat there! Pell whirled and threw the stone he had in his hand.

As he had feared the night before, his throw went wide. Way wide! It hit so far away that for a second he thought the rabbit wouldn’t bolt, but then it exploded up the hill away from them before he could throw again. Pell was still staring disconsolately after it when Denit struck him in the side of the head with a powerful blow. For a second Pell didn’t know what had happened. When his mind cleared, Denit was astride his chest angrily waving his flint knife and demanding to know why he shouldn’t take Pell’s ear. Boro was standing wide eyed three paces away. But Boro showed no intention of trying to physically stop Denit. Pell sobbed apologies over and over.

Denit finally rose to his feet in disgust and stalked off in the same direction they had been going before.

Pell stumbled to his feet and staggered after. Soon his wooziness disappeared but the throbbing ache in his head persisted. A sullen anger developed as well—what had Denit expected him to do, call out, “Hey, Denit, you missed a rabbit—do you want to throw first—OOPS, sorry it ran away!”?

They trudged on the rest of the day without sighting any more game within range of a throw, though it gratified Pell when they saw a few larger animals at a distance. Winter might be drawing to a close!

When they got back to the cave a celebration was in progress. Roley, Belk, Gontra and Tando had driven a small pack of wolves away from a deer that the pack had killed. The men had managed to steal most of the carcass for the tribe. The cookpots were truly full for the first time in nearly a moon. Gontra was drumming on his hollow log using one hand and a knobbed stick he had picked up on the way back from the hunt. The different tone produced by the stick allowed him to produce an entirely new and interesting set of rhythms that Pell found fascinating. Lessa was chanting to the rhythm in a counterpoint that had everyone clapping delightedly.

The men were bragging that Roley had nearly killed a wolf for the pots as well. Pell was intensely relieved when, in their celebratory mood, the adults took little notice of Denit’ description of how “Pell had ruined ‘his’ hunt.”

The next morning however, Denit pursued the subject again when Roley was making up the hunting parties. “Don’t send me out with Pell again. He makes too much noise. He throws so badly, he couldn’t hit the wall of this cave while standing inside of it.”

Roley looked him in the eye. “Don’t forget that he’s had a kill since your last one.”

Denit’ face went white with a mixture of fear and rage. Pell suddenly realized that Denit was worried about his own recent lack of a kill and therefore actually jealous of Pell. That insight helped little when Denit whirled to stomp out of the cave and, finding Pell between himself and the entrance, knocked Pell to the ground on his way out.

Pell hunted with Boro that day. Predictably, they had no luck. It was a clear bright day, cold in the morning but almost pleasant by afternoon. They saw some animal sign in keeping with the better weather. A few wolves trotted past in the distance. Boro even thought he saw an antelope in the distance, which would be great news if it truly indicated that the herds were returning.

In the late afternoon as they walked down a ravine toward the cave they came to a narrow choke point where a flash flood had washed up a large assemblage of sticks, brush and other debris. It had caught on a couple of small trees to form what appeared to be an impenetrable morass. For a while they thought they would have to climb out of the ravine because the brush was too dense to get through. Then they realized from the way all the tracks came together that animals had found or created a small passage through one area. They crouched down to go through. Pell was pushing through a tight spot when a strand of dried vine got wrapped around his neck. He struggled somewhat frantically to get it loose in the tight little space. Afterward he mused that what had just happened to him must have been something like what had happened to the rabbit he had trapped in his thong.

When they got to the other side of the morass of brush, they smelled blood. Looking about they saw an area off to the side where a big hole had been torn in the brush pile. It looked like some kind of animal had become trapped there and had been killed. To their disappointment, there wasn’t anything left except some blood splattered here and there. The ground was rocky so they couldn’t even tell what had made the kill, much less track it and attempt to steal its prey.

When Pell and Boro arrived back at the cave, they found Denit strutting about proudly. A small boar hung roasting on a spit in the center of the cooking fire while Denit bragged to Exen and Gurix about his hunt. The two boys listened raptly, chins in their hands and eyes shining. Pell and Boro sat down to listen too as Denit described his chase. “So I just kept trotting after it and trotting after it. I felt so tired it hurt to breathe, but I could tell that the boar was getting worn out too. Then it started up a little ravine. I thought I would die going upslope but then the boar came to a spot where the ravine was choked off with brush. For a little bit it cast about looking for an exit but, finding none, it turned and charged right at me! Its head lowered, its tusks swinging side to side, its beady little eyes glowing red, it attacked! Knowing how much we needed the food, I didn’t give an inch. I dropped to one knee, my spear butted to the ground behind me and the boar spitted itself right below the breastbone. It dropped in its tracks.”

Pell was musing to himself about the fact that it must have been the same brush clogged ravine he and Boro came through earlier and must have been the kill they saw the blood from when he heard Denit continue…

“Yeah, good thing Pell wasn’t there. He probably would have thrown a couple of wild pebbles and frightened the boar away.”

Pell started. A sick feeling came over him. Everyone was going to think he couldn’t hunt—maybe he couldn’t. Inwardly he raged at Denit. “Yeah, how come when Boro and I were in that same ravine on the way home from our hunt it looked like a pig got stuck in the brush and some great hunter just walked up and stuck his spear up its ass? Charging? Ha! Hey, did anyone see a wound in the front of that pig?” Pell looked around. “Where’s the skin?”

Pell found himself on the floor of the cave with Denit astride his chest, hitting him. His arms were trapped under Denit’ knees but he convulsed one knee up to strike Denit in the back and knock him forward. Denit fell forward a moment but quickly sat back and resumed flailing at Pell’s head. Pell had turned his head and was trying to bite Denit on the thigh when Roley walked over and broke up the fight with a few well-placed blows.

Later Pell cowered in the corner, hurt much worse by Roley’s single cup- handed blow to the side of his head than the many rained on him by Denit— dazedly he thought to himself that it was little wonder no one challenged the massive Roley for leadership of the Aldans.

After several days of successful hunts, that night developed into a joyous celebration. They feasted on the leftover deer from the day before and the roast pig from Denit’ hunt. Pell was sitting by the cooking fire, sucking the marrow out of a couple of ribs. He didn’t feel the celebratory mood of the others—though he thought to himself that life probably couldn’t get much better. After all he had a full stomach and the warm fire made for a pleasant feeling all over.

Still, he felt uneasy—worried about his status in the tribe. Though gratified he was amazed that Roley had cuffed Denit as well as Pell in stopping Pell’s fight with Roley’s own son. Donte had told Pell that Roley had respected Pell’s father Garen tremendously. Perhaps that led to Roley’s relatively soft spot for Pell—if Roley could be said to have a soft spot. Perhaps a “not so hard spot?” Nonetheless, Pell had gnawing doubts that Roley would continue even a pretense of fairness if it came to something really important. After all Roley had never really singled Pell out for special treatment or even tried to teach him to hunt. What if Pell never got any better at throwing? He resolved to try flint knapping again. He must find another skill! Somehow he had to become a useful and productive member of the tribe!

Having made that resolution he sat back, feeling contented. He saw that the healer squatted near him, brewing one of his concoctions. It seemed, once again, to consist mostly of hemp leaves. “Who’s sick?” Pell queried.

Pont glared over at him. “None of your business, ginja boy!”

Pell started back. The healer’s answer was practically dripping vitriol. It was a bad portent to be on poor terms with the tribe’s healer, even the seemingly invincible Roley carefully stayed on the healer’s good side.

Pell had often wondered why? It seemed to him that Pont could do little enough when you were sick. However, his hemp concoctions eased pain and dulled the worry. Also his chanting rituals seemed to have a calming effect on everyone, not just the victim of sickness. Just now Pell found himself in need of some calm, having just relaxed from his earlier concerns. He felt a gibbering terror run through his stomach. “Pont…” he mumbled, trying desperately to think of a way to apologize, but the healer had already turned his back and shuffled toward his furs. Pell watched him wide eyed, wondering what he could do to salvage this mess. After a moment he realized that the healer was once again simply partaking of his own medicine. Pell wondered a moment whether Pont might actually be sick and treating himself? Or was he only taking the hemp because he liked the way it made him feel? Pell resolved to collect some hemp for Pont when the leaves began to grow again—perhaps that would soften Pont’s attitude towards him.

Pell fell asleep that night with a persistently gnawing feeling of sick dread. Something terrible was going to happen…

However, the next day passed uneventfully as the tribe rested, gorged on meat and generally laid about. The day after that broke clear and cold with a few high clouds but almost windless. Pell was set to building up the fire and soon the tribe was warming themselves about it. They breakfasted on the remains of the deer and pig but there really wasn’t enough to gorge everyone again. Roley looked about outside and proclaimed it a fine day for a “great hunt.”  Soon the men and older boys had set about sharpening their wooden “char” tipped spears. The good flint tipped spears were checked and their bindings tightened. Pell and Boro practiced throwing with some spearshafts and Pell spent some time trying to get a better point on his two hunting spears. He scraped the points with a shard of flint and then charred them a little in the fire. He wished for a good flint point and once again wished that his mother had somehow saved him some of his father’s good flint spear points. However, she had used the last of them in trades long ago, trades that had helped the two of them out of difficult situations. Now when she needed something she couldn’t get any other way she was forced to mate with one of the hunters. Fortunately it seemed that the men always wanted sex, but none of them desired a long term mating with her. Pell worried about what would happen if she got with child again. Without a mate it would be Pell’s responsibility to be the man of their little family, something he was far from ready for. Pell was embarrassed to be grateful that, though she had swelled with child three times since Garen died, every time the child had come too early to live.

The band of hunters set out down their little valley and into the big basin surrounding the great river to the south. When they broke out of the forest to reach one of the big open areas of the basin they saw it dotted here and there with animals grazing on the sere grass. Roley took out his “far-seer” and held it up to his eye. It consisted of an elaborately carved stick with a flattened area at the tip in which a small hole had been bored. Peering through the hole markedly improved the vision of many, producing a sharp image from a blurred one. Pell had heard some of the hunters discussing it one night. Tando claimed that it only helped the vision of those whose vision wasn’t very good. He said that, using the “far-seer” Roley only saw things that Tando had already seen. Tando said he had looked through the far seer and could see no better with it than without it. However, Pont said it had great magic and chanted over it before each hunt.

Pell had bored holes in several small wood chips and found that they improved his distance vision without any magic words. He wondered if it worked like “squinting.” Members of the tribe whose vision wasn’t good could often be seen squinting at things in the distance. Pell thought they were looking through small slits between their eyelids like the little hole in his chips and the far seer. Maybe the “far seer” just formed a better slit than squinting did? Pell wisely told no one of his thoughts.

The hunters passed the “far-seer” around and discussed the animals that they saw. They were nothing like the big herds that would be present in summer consuming the richer forage available then, but infinitely better than the empty dried fields of winter. Pell wanted to look through the “far-seer” himself, especially to settle his curiosity regarding whether it worked better than his little chips, but the hunters saw little need for the boys to survey the plain. Roley outlined a plan to encircle some antelope and trap them between the hunters. The men formed into a wide, crescent moon, skirmish line with the points forward. This plan would take tremendous coordination from the group. While the circle was large and the hunters were far apart, hunters on the part of the circle an animal broke toward were to make a great deal of noise in order to drive the animal back into the center of the circle. Once the circle closed to a point where they were within a few paces of one another, the boys were to continue making noise so that the antelope would shy toward one of the men who would spear it. “Remember, don’t throw your spear unless the animal has already broken out of the circle!” Roley reminded the younger hunters. “Stab yes, but if you throw and you miss, someone across the circle from you may be hurt.”

“That means you especially, Pell.” Denit jeered. Many of the group snickered and Pell felt his face flush.

Roley muttered, “That means all of you ginja fools.”

Denit brightened, “Ginja fools? That’d be Pell and, maybe Boro?” He laughed again while Pell and Boro flushed with anger. However, neither of the two friends were brave enough to say anything back.

Roley stayed in the center of the line and they walked on. He would occasionally wave someone into place but led entirely with silent gestures. Pell tried to watch his own step and cringed inwardly whenever he stepped on a twig t or otherwise made some noise. An hour or so later they came on three antelope. There were more in the distance but these three were grazing away from the rest of the herd.

Roley stopped and began waving the points out around the three animals. As he had been taught Pell did not come nearer to the antelope but tried to walk around them in a circle while maintaining the same distance. The antelope seemed nervous but continued to graze while looking up repeatedly. As the circle began to close one of them made a quick dash toward the closing space but Denit, who was on the right point, dashed into the opening, yelling and waving. It skittered nervously away and back to the center of the hunters’ circle. With much gesturing Roley dressed their ranks and then got them moving slowly toward the center. The animals were obviously alerted now and pranced nervously about, skittering this way and that. When the antelope got too far from center the hunters on that part of the circumference shouted and dashed about, driving them back into the center.

Then one of the antelope bolted towards the gap between Pell and Tando. Pell shouted, waved his spear and dashed toward the gap. Tando charged in from the other side of the gap but then Pell found himself skidding face first into the grasses, tripped over a stump or rock. Panicked he leapt back to his feet but the animal was already passing behind him. He dashed back into the gap that had formed between himself and Bonat during this fiasco. Another animal was bounding for that gap! Pell shouted and ran but realized that it was also going to escape! In a fury he cast his spear after it had crossed the circle on its way out. To Pell’s dismay his throw was so wide that it came within three paces of Bonat! Cringing inwardly he looked to the center of their circle. Yes the last antelope remained! But as Pell’s spirits surged he saw the animal gather itself and dash for a gap on the other side. It flew between Boro and Gontra despite their attempts to frighten it back to center.

Dejectedly they gathered for a postmortem on the hunt. As Pell had feared Denit had a few choice words for Pell, “Can’t you even stay on your feet for a hunt, you ginja fool? Are you really that clumsy or did you just lie down to take a nap?”

Pell hung his head. He had no spirit to argue and, even though he knew that Denit was using the term “ginja” as a swearword, nonetheless it struck terror in Pell’s heart.

Roley tried to cheer them up. “This encirclement plan is going to work. We just need to try it again.” Pell realized with a start that Roley wasn’t confident about this hunting method and wondered whom Roley had learned it from.

Soon they were spread out in their skirmish line again and advancing across the plain. It was another hour or so before they came on a large boar with a couple of sows. Pell was nervous, boars could be dangerous and this one was huge, nearly chest high and so dark it was almost black. Its tusks looked to be as long as Pell’s foot. At least they let the circle close considerably before becoming at all agitated. When they did take notice of the hunters, it was with a belligerent attitude, heaving their heads up and down and slashing the air with their tusks. Then they began making short charges directly at members of the hunting party. To Pell’s relief none of the charges were toward him. The circle became smaller and smaller and then the big one took a full charge on Boro. Though he appeared to be terrified, Boro nonetheless did as he had been taught and dropped to one knee. He planted the butt of his spear in the ground and held the point out at the charging beast. The boar spitted itself on Boro’s spear, bowling the boy away. The two sows exploded out of the circle to either side of Boro and the insanely thrashing boar. Gontra appeared out of the dust and began stabbing the boar repeatedly with his spear. Others quickly joined the melee. Pell turned from the excitement and checked on Boro. His friend was limping a little, but so excited he could hardly hold still. “I did it! It was my spear that killed it, wasn’t it?” He hopped up and down in delight.

Other hunters came over to congratulate Boro as well. Pell, initially excited for Boro, found himself mired in jealousy and dismay. Until now, when he worried about his own inadequacies, at least he had felt superior to Boro. Now Boro had a major kill—of a charging boar no less! Pell’s pride over the kill of his rabbit seemed a petty thing now, especially since he knew that it was a trick with a thong, rather than true hunting skill or courage that had brought the rabbit down.

As Pell stood scuffing his toe and worrying about his own predicament, he slowly became aware that a silence had fallen over the group. He looked quickly about for a cause. Exen’s face was ashen. Pell followed Exen’s eyes, which were staring at his father Gontra. As Pell took in the scene he realized that Gontra was grimacing and holding one hand with his other. The veins were standing out on his usually pleasant face and no trace of his customary grin was evident. “I fell,” he said, as if that explained it all.

Everyone gathered around to gawk, so it was a while before Pell could see but it became evident that Gontra had injured his finger. Pell saw that it was bent back the same way that his own pointer finger had been several days ago! Pont looked at it briefly, and then rummaged in his pouch. “You’ve done the same thing that that ginja fool Pell did to his finger. Don’t worry, I fixed that worthless piece of boar’s scat, I’ll fix your finger too. Here, chew on this.”

Pell choked on his rage. He wanted to shout out that he had fixed his own finger! Pont hadn’t done it! How could the hemp Pont was giving Gontra possibly fix a finger? However, when he looked at the others they were all looking relieved to have the healer take charge of the situation. Other than Pell, no one appeared to doubt the healer’s ability to fix Gontra’s finger. With dismay, Pell recognized that, tenuous as his own situation was, he’d best not express any opinions regarding Pont’s abilities.

The hunters fell to hacking the boar up into pieces small enough to carry back. Somehow Pell was not surprised to find that he had been assigned to carry the intestines. Everyone else was packed up and had started back before he finished squeezing out their contents and had coiled them into some kind of a mess that he could carry. He thought to himself that it was good thing summer wasn’t here; he’d be covered with flies. Of course, during the good hunting of summer they usually didn’t bother with intestines. He set out, up into the little valley leading back to the Aldans’ cave, hiking rapidly to catch up with the others.

When they came in sight of the cave the women saw them carrying haunches of boar and began to celebrate. Then Tonday cried out and came running out toward the group. She had seen that Gontra wasn’t carrying anything, rather just shambling along holding his one hand in the other. She took in the drugged look in Gontra’s eyes and began wailing even before looking at his finger. Gontra tried to console her in his own gruff way, but even in his glazed over state, his own apprehension was easily evident. In a few minutes, Tonday’s hysterics degenerated. She half lay, half sat at Gontra’s feet, tearing at her hair. The other women and children came out to the group and soon Gontra and Tonday’s little daughter Tila was adding her own hysteria to the mix. Though she was too little to understand what was wrong, she readily picked up her mother’s distress.

Pont’s woman Lessa sat down with Tonday and began to comfort her, stroking her hair and singing one of her soothing chants. Pont soon thereafter marched Gontra up to the cave and laid him out on the furs that he and Lessa shared. Lessa brought a still sobbing Tonday up a little later. Pell found himself assigned to slicing up the intestines he had carried back. This was a tedious job but he managed to situate himself so that he could watch what the healer was doing with Gontra.

When Gontra seemed deeply under the influence of Pont’s hemp concoction, the healer began to examine his finger. Pell was relieved to see that the finger was maintaining a good color. Pont wiggled it around a little, looking at it from different angles, then he grasped it and pulled vigorously. Gontra woke immediately from his sleep with incoherent eyes wide in agony. He flailed around, striking the healer repeatedly on the back, then finally shoving Pont violently aside. All eyes, attracted by the commotion, now focused on Gontra’s finger. It remained deformed! Pell felt a sick feeling rising in his throat. He thought to himself that Pont had just pulled straight. With both Pell’s finger and the rabbit’s leg, Pell had first bent the member even farther in the direction of its deformity before being able to slip it back into place. “Pont…” he ventured.

Pont looked up at Pell with a murderous expression in his beady eyes. Pell found his words dying in his throat. Sheepishly he went back to cutting up the intestine.

Pont sat back down next to Gontra who lay dozing again. Pell realized that Pont had been careful to position himself between Pell and Gontra to obstruct Pell’s view. Pont began to chant and took a little of his hemp mixture himself. Pell continued to work on his task while he contemplated the strange paradox that required that the deformity be made worse before it could be made better. He wondered whether the healer might know about the phenomenon and would therefore try that maneuver next. His reveries were interrupted by another episode of flailing and screaming from Gontra. This episode again ended with the healer bowled over but this time Gontra was on his feet staring wide eyed at his own finger. Pell saw that the finger remained as crooked as ever. With a cry Gontra bolted out of the cave and into the night. Pont lay cursing on the floor of the cave, holding grimly to the small of his back. Roley got to his feet, took his good spear and followed Gontra out into the night. Tonday collapsed to the floor, sobbing hysterically. Pell thought in dismay that Gontra, injured, weaponless and drugged, made an easy victim for the large cats that prowled the night. Hopefully Roley would be able to bring him back soon.

They began to eat the pig but the normally happy mood that accompanied the feasting after a big kill was clouded with a somber pall. Before they finished, Roley came back, a shambling Gontra in tow. Moods improved, but Gontra’s deformed finger and Tonday’s persistent sobbing damped any festivities for the rest of the night. No one started telling stories. Certainly, no one was going to drum on Gontra’s log this night. After eating, Gontra who had sobered considerably, went to speak to the healer. An argument erupted and it became apparent from Pont’s shouting that the healer attributed the persistent deformity of Gontra’s finger to poor patient cooperation. Pell expected Gontra to be angry but Gontra soon took another dose of hemp and lay down again on the healer’s furs. Several times during the evening, bellows of agony erupted from that part of the cave, the last episode waking Pell from a sound sleep with his heart pounding in his chest.

Chapter Two

The next morning broke to a persistent somber mood. Gontra’s finger remained deformed, but was now even more swollen and angry looking. Tonday, intermittently sobbing, refused to rise from her bedding. Pont denounced Gontra’s lack of cooperation to Roley in a stage whisper that was heard by everyone. Lessa tried to counter the mood with tea and soup that she brewed in two of Lenta’s big pots, chanting a pleasant tune while she was at it. It helped little, though the chronically hungry tribe gathered readily enough to eat.

Soon after downing some of the soup and tea Roley announced that everyone could hunt as they liked, he wasn’t organizing anything—then stalked from the cave, alone but for a couple of spears. Pell thought for moment about trying to join him, but before he could, Denit scrambled to his feet and ran out after his father. Pell certainly didn’t intend to go anywhere that Denit had headed, so he settled back down, hoping someone else would ask him to hunt with them.

With little ceremony, the hunters left in ones and twos and it soon became evident that no one was going to ask Pell to go with them. He unwrapped his fingers and flexed the pointer finger that had been dislocated. It was still somewhat swollen but hurt much less and seemed to be moving pretty well. He bound it along his long finger again, gathered his two char tipped spears and went out to hunt by himself.

The sky was dotted with small clouds but brisk winds cut under Pell’s furs with a cold bite. He stopped down at the little stream that ran below the cave and filled his water skin. The water was so frigid that he could hardly stand to put his hand in to fill the skin. When he brought the icy water skin out of the water he hung it outside his furs so it wouldn’t suck out all of his warmth. He meandered down toward the flats a while but when the flats actually came into view their sere grasses were empty of game. Besides, he thought to himself, the big game found on the flats wasn’t something he could hunt by himself

He found himself walking up the little gulch where Denit had killed the small boar. He walked up into it and came to the area where it was choked with brush. He contemplated the little hole in the brush that the pig had run into, become trapped and then was killed by Denit. It looked much like the small tunnel in the brush that went through to the other side. If only he could drive an animal up this ravine and have it try to get through that same dead end that looked like a passage. In fact as he looked at it he realized that it looked even more like a passage because many animals had wandered into it and then back out, leaving tracks looking like they had passed both ways. He went over to the tunnel that actually made a complete passage and crouched down to start through. He had gone in a few feet when he heard someone shout his name!

His first thought was that someone was calling a warning! He was crouched over in the narrow passage and when he heard the call he jerked upright, or tried to. He panicked and tried to back out but immediately stuck himself on one of his spears that he had been trailing behind himself in his left hand. The butt of the spear had caught in a root and the point stabbed him painfully in the back of the thigh. Even more panicked, he thrashed about for a few moments. When he realized he wasn’t in any immediate danger he calmed down, but it still took several minutes to disentangle himself and back out of the tunnel. Thank the gods that he hadn’t encountered some fierce predator in there! As he carefully backed out, he was thinking that he would never again enter such a restricted passage. When he finally got all of the way back out, he found Exen and Gontra waiting for him.

They seemed uncomfortable. Exen scuffed his foot and asked what Pell had been doing in the pile of brush.

“Trying to get through to the other side.”

“Why did you start making so much noise?”

“Um, I caught myself on some thorns.”

An uncomfortable silence stretched, then Gontra ventured, “Exen says that he saw you straighten out your own finger—that Pont didn’t do it.”

“No, Pont didn’t do it! All he did was give me hemp!” Pell was surprised at his own vehemence.

Another long gap in the conversation ensued. Gontra looked up into the sky and Pell found himself scuffing his own feet as well. Then Gontra asked, “Do you think you can show me how to straighten my finger?”

Later Pell would wonder why he was surprised at the question, in retrospect it seemed so obvious that they had followed him out of sight of the rest of the tribe to ask that very question—certainly a question Pell would have been asking if he was in their place. Nonetheless he was caught by surprise and said nothing for a few moments. Later he would also be angry that they hadn’t asked him in front of other members of the tribe, but at the moment he was glad that they hadn’t asked in front of the healer. Pont surely would have been furious.

“I could try,” he said.

Gontra’s shoulders dropped in relief. “Good!” he said, and held his hand out to Pell.

Pell started back. The finger was quite swollen and still angled back, the same as Pell’s had been. It looked quite repugnant. He reached out to touch it then remembered how Gontra had flailed at Pont the night before, knocking the healer away several times and completely over on one occasion. He drew his hands back.

“Come on boy!” Gontra almost shouted. He shook the hand in Pell’s face. “Do it. Do it now!”

Pell suddenly recognized that Gontra was frightened! Frightened of the pain that was surely to come but even more frightened of the finger remaining the way it was. Nonetheless Pell started back again. “No! You’ll knock me down like you did Pont!”

Gontra shrunk in on himself. “No I won’t. Come on, you’ve got to do it for me,” he whined in a petulant voice. Pell thought, with some surprise, that Gontra sounded like a child.

“No! You’ve got to at least chew some hemp first, so it doesn’t hurt so badly. Before I fixed my own finger, I chewed some of Pont’s.”

“Oh, yeah.” Gontra mumbled. He scrabbled about in his pouch with his good hand. “Pont gave me some for the pain.”

Pell saw Gontra grimace when he bumped his bad finger trying to hold the pouch open with that hand. Pell’s own finger hadn’t seemed that sensitive, even before Pont gave him the hemp leaves. Was it because of all the manipulations that the healer had performed on Gontra’s finger the previous night? It could be, but Pell remembered that his own finger had been so numb with the cold that he could hardly feel it anyway. Should he wait until nighttime and send Gontra out into the cold?

His hand bumped the skin full of ice cold water hanging by his side, just outside his furs. Maybe he could numb Gontra’s hand with the cold water in the skin? When he poured some out of the waterskin and onto his own hand, he found that the water had warmed up considerably, at least as compared to how it had felt in the creek.

He looked up to find Gontra stuffing his mouth with hemp leaves. “Wait! Spit those back out. We’re not ready yet.”

Gontra spit them back into his good hand with a look of puzzlement/anger. “What now?”

“We need to go back to the stream.”

“The stream? Why?”

“Your hand needs to be cold. You can hold it in the water a while.”

Gontra didn’t want his hand cold, certainly not as cold as it would get in the stream. Nonetheless while he argued they all walked back toward the cave. Then having resigned himself to putting his hand in the cold water, he began to argue for going to a section of the stream a ways below the cave. He and Exen were glancing about and suddenly Pell realized that they didn’t want to be seen with Pell. Pell felt a little disturbed by this unwillingness to lower their status by association with him, but on the other hand, he wasn’t sure he wanted the healer to see him with them either. Or other members of the tribe, what if he failed to “set” Gontra’s finger? After a few moments consideration he agreed to go to the little swimming hole downstream from the cave.

Shortly before they arrived at the hole Pell had Gontra begin chewing the wad of hemp he still carried in his good hand. When they got to the hole he already had a drugged appearance. Pell had him crouch at the edge of the hole and immerse his hand to the wrist. He was surprised at how readily Gontra acquiesced, but attributed it to the hemp. Gontra shortly began to complain about holding his hand in the cold water. Pell didn’t blame him but insisted that he keep it in. After another minute or so Gontra pulled it out of the water of his own accord, complaining loudly and in a slurred voice about how he could hardly feel his hand. Pell saw that the whole hand had blanched white but made him put it back in the water anyway. He sat down next to Gontra and wiped sweaty palms on his furs. He wondered why his hands would be sweaty on a cold day like this one. He saw Gontra trembling and thought he was about to pull his hand back out again. “OK, take it out and give it to me.”

Gontra jerked his hand out of the water and extended the white, trembling member to Pell.

Pell grasped the deformed part of the finger in his fist, bent it way back as he had his own finger and the rabbit’s leg, and pulled mightily.

Gontra bellowed and jerked his hand out of Pell’s grasp, rolling back onto his buttocks. He gripped the offended member in his other fist and curled over it in agony, though he didn’t seem as miserable as he had the night before during the healer’s attempts. Pell scrambled away fearfully, thinking that Gontra might strike him when he recovered. But then Gontra opened his good hand to look tremblingly at his injured digit. Pell could see, even from where he stood, that the finger was straight again! Massively swollen still, but by the Spirits, straight again! Exen let out a whoop of joy and knelt to throw his arms around Gontra. He and his father swayed about in each other’s grasp for almost a whole minute.

Gontra reached in his pouch and pulled out a flint knife that he tossed quickly to Pell. “Thanks,” he said, and with that, he and Exen started back up the trail with a bounce in their step.

Pell stood looking at the knife, wondering at the tumultuous emotions he felt. He was elated that he had reduced Gontra’s finger but somehow felt that the celebration was too short or that it hadn’t included him as he felt it should have. He recognized immediately that this was an old knife that Gontra didn’t use much anymore. It had several chips out of the blade and, though bigger, wasn’t really even as good as Pell’s primary knife. At first surprised that Gontra had given him anything for what he’d done; now he found himself disappointed at the shoddiness of the gift. Pont would have demanded, and received, a much better reward from Gontra if he had successfully reduced the finger—of course, Pont was a real healer and Pell wasn’t.

Pell contemplated what had happened for a while longer, then set out again on his interrupted hunt. As he traveled, his thoughts returned over and over to the incident just past. He was hurt that Exen and Gontra hadn’t invited him to hunt with them. He wished that he had insisted on some sort of public recognition from them. He wished that he had thought to accompany them back to the cave where they were probably celebrating—he could be the hero of the moment. Maybe there would be a hero’s welcome for him from the tribe anyway, when he got back later. The Aldans would surely recognize the value of having one in their midst who could perform bonesettings. While he was lost in these thoughts, he wandered back up to the same ravine he had been in earlier. When he got to the brush barrier, he remembered that he didn’t want to try to go through it again. Rather than go back down the ravine he resolved to climb up the side and thus go around the barrier. The side of the ravine was quite steep and difficult to climb but, shortly, pulling himself up on various bushes, he had scrambled up onto the rocks directly east of the brushy barrier. The afternoon sun had warmed the rocks somewhat and so he sat puffing at the top for a minute. His eye caught some motion on the north side of the barrier. A group of small pigs like the one Denit had killed snuffled in a small patch of rotting vegetation. He threw the spear in his hand but it clattered off the rocks three or four paces from the pig he had cast it at. His second spear bounced into the legs of a running pig and tangled in its feet a moment. It fell but then regained its feet, apparently unharmed. Pell scrambled down the side of the ravine but to his dismay the boars were scattering back up to the north. By the time he had gotten down to the ground on the north side of the brush pile, the pigs were far out of reach of any further spear throws.

He collected his spears and examined them. Sure enough, the point on his better spear had been crushed on the rock it had struck. Cursing, he sat down to resharpen it. He tried out the knife Gontra had given him. He noted that at least it had a better handle for such scraping than his old one. He was still working away when a small boar burst out of the tunnel in the brush and rocketed up the west side of the ravine to join its fellows. Startled Pell dropped the spear and the knife. He scrabbled around to get his second spear and launched another miserable throw, again missing widely. Cursing even more vehemently he walked over to pick up the spear, noted that its point was now ruined as well, then walked back to pick up the other spear and his new knife. The flint knife lay beside the spear, shattered into three large pieces and several smaller ones.

With hot tears running down his cheeks Pell sat, got out his other knife, and jerkily brought both spears to points.

After the tears ran down, he gathered up the fragments of his new knife, put them in his pouch, and, dragging his spears behind him went back to the brush tunnel. Too dejected to consider climbing over, he crouched down and started through the tunnel. When he got to the area where he had been trapped the day before, he took it in with new eyes. During his struggle, he had broken off a couple of sticks and branches, which had then protruded into the tunnel on a slant. They were what had been poking into him when he tried to back out the other way. He noticed some blood on one of them, he couldn’t remember being stuck badly enough to start bleeding though. He smelled it—it was fresh boar’s blood! The little boar, which had just escaped him, must have been trapped here for a while too! He wondered if he could wait a while and some other animal would come along and get trapped? Well they wouldn’t come in here if he were here; his scent would keep them away. But, could he get back in here before they got free? If he did would he be able to take on a boar in such close quarters? Maybe if the sticks were sharper they would kill the boar for him? While contemplating it he began scraping the one that had blood on it, thinking to diminish the scent of blood. As he did so he realized that he was bringing it to a point like a spear and then he began to do so purposefully. It was made of a springy wood that made it easy to push aside but tended to hold it out in the center of the tunnel. He realized that it was easy to get by going one direction but not the other! Inspiration struck and he began finding similar branches, sharpening one end and wedging them into the surrounding branches so that they sloped into the center of the tunnel. He moved a few paces the other way and did the same thing, this time making the little spears so that they faced the opposite direction. This made a small section of the tunnel that was easy to get into by brushing the spears aside, but once within it the spears faced you from either direction. Pell would be able to get out by careful use of his hands, but he thought that a boar would be stuck for quite a while. He climbed out of the little tunnel, intending to sit up on the side of the ravine and wait for an animal to try to go through the tunnel. Then he would dash in to kill it before it could get loose. Unfortunately, the sun was getting low. He didn’t want to get caught out after dark with big cats and other night predators so he headed back to the Aldans’ cave. He resolved to come back out and sit by the ravine in the morning.

When Pell got back to the cave there was a celebration in progress. He trotted up to his mother, Donte and asked her what had happened.

“Another kill of a small boar, this time by Belk. Even better—Gontra popped his own finger back in!”

“Gontra popped his finger back in?!”

Donte didn’t notice Pell’s dismay at the news. “Yes, yes, isn’t it wonderful? He fell into a bush and when he pulled his hand back out the finger was straight! He was chasing one of the big boars at the time, you know one of the same kind that he was hunting when his finger was hurt to begin with. Pont says he had been praying to the spirit of the big boars all day today. So, the spirit must have heard the healer’s call and decided to give Gontra his finger back… Pell are you OK?”

Pell felt as if he’d been poleaxed. “Gontra, put—his own, finger back?” he repeated stupidly.

“Yes, yes, well actually the Boar Spirit did it. What’s the matter with you?”

Pell looked up and saw Gontra staring at him. Gontra looked nervously over at Pont who was all dressed up in his ceremonial finest. Gontra looked back at Pell and quickly shook his head. Then he lightly put his finger over his lips, shaking his head again. Pell sat down where he stood, feeling lightheaded. So much for his hopes of being recognized upon his return this evening! The most important thing he had done in his life—and all that he would get out of it would be one shoddy knife, already broken? Not even a real “thanks” from Gontra? No one was to even know that he had accomplished it? For a moment, Pell thought to announce to the camp what had really happened, but he realized in time, though with even more dismay, that any such claim, contradicted by both Gontra and Pont, would make him a laughingstock.

Getting no response to her query, Donte said, “Rest a moment Pell, I’ll get you some tea.” She scurried off toward the cookfire.

Before they ate dinner they sat through one of Pont’s interminable ceremonies, this one to “Thank the Spirit Boar for restoring Gontra’s finger.” Gontra even did the drumming, holding his new “knobby stick” in his poulticed hand. Pont danced about chanting monotonously while Lessa chanted a tune that wove through his monotone. The two together did sound haunting. Pell sat against the back wall of the cave covertly sipping the tea Donte had brought him and wondering whether the healer had ever actually made anyone better. Or did he just take the credit when they did get well? Pell realized with a start that Pont certainly spread the blame when people got worse under his ministrations. Someone else had always “angered the Spirits” when the healer failed to make one of his patients better.

After they ate Roley announced that they would have another big hunt in the morning. While the hunters were out, the women were to pack for the move to the summer hunting area. If the hunt was successful they should have enough meat to tide them through the move and so they would begin their transit the day after the hunt.

Pell had great difficulty sleeping that night. He lay awake thinking of how he should have made Gontra and Exen march past the cave with him to the upper stream before reducing the finger. He should have insisted on better payment than that old knife. He should have insisted on accompanying them back to the cave after he put Gontra’s finger back in place. He should have said something when he got back to the cave and found the celebration in progress—though he knew no one would believe him. But maybe Gontra would have admitted it. He should have… He should have…

The next morning Pell woke thinking of the brush tunnel. He had been going to go sit by it today. The more he thought about it, the more sure he felt that some passing animal would get stuck in there long enough for him to put a spear into it! He would have to go by himself so that he could claim to have killed it in a real hunt. He snorted—the way people had been turning against him, going hunting by himself wasn’t going to be a problem.

Roley was already organizing the big hunt though. As per Roley’s usual, this involved a lot of bellowing at other hunters, shouting at the women and children, stamping of his feet and cuffing the slow moving. When he got into this kind of mood it created a lot of anxiety among the other Aldans. Pell resigned himself to trying to visit the brush tunnel later in the day, if the big hunt was successful before it got too late. Roley soon had all the hunters out on the trail down toward the great river, most of them gnawing on a remnant of yesterday’s kill.

It was overcast but not particularly cold. Pell’s stomach was not growling as he had had a few remnants of last night’s feast before setting out. He had even gotten over some of his dismay at Gontra’s betrayal and was looking forward to an opportunity to prove himself in the day’s hunt. But, then Denit turned to Exen and said, “Don’t you think that Pell should have stayed back with the rest of the women to pack?”

Pell’s stomach lurched.

Exen looked over at Pell out of the corner of his eye and quickly glanced away. To Denit he said “Yeah, you should let your dad know that we’ve accidentally brought one of the girls with us on the hunt.”

Denit laughed. Then he shouted ahead, “Roley, one of the girls has come along on the hunt. Do you want to send her back?”

Roley turned in anger, scanning up and down the line. “Where is she?” he demanded.

Denit laughed and pointed at Pell, “Can’t throw, send her back, can’t throw, send her back.”

The rest of the hunters laughed as well. Pell’s face turned red. He saw that even Boro was laughing! Gontra stared off into the distance, seeming embarrassed but evidently not about to intercede.

Roley strode back to where the three boys were standing and stared at Denit until even his son’s insolent grin had faded. “Hunting is serious business, for men—not for boys who play games! Do I need to send you back to the cave to play with the children?”

Denit, stared down at the ground and scuffed his feet. “No Father.”

Roley turned on his heel and strode back to the front without another word. They started off again. Denit and Exen continued to put their heads together and giggle but no more loud taunts ensued. Pell wished that Roley had said something positive about Pell, instead of just coming down on Denit. The other time, when Roley had reminded Denit of Pell’s kill, Pell had felt a lot better.

Once they came out of the forest and onto the open flats near the great river, Roley spread them out in a wide, crescent shaped skirmish line as he had several days before. They moved forward at a steady walk and soon came on a pair of the large boars. Pell was at the left end of their line and began to surge ahead to swing their line around the boars into an encirclement. The boars didn’t seem to have noticed anything but then a great deal of shouting came from near the center of their line and the boars were spooked away. Pell thought surely someone must have been hurt and trotted toward the disturbance. So did the rest of the hunters but when they got close it was evident that Roley was trying to put them back out into their line again. No one seemed hurt. Pell asked Belk, who was next to him in the rearranged line, what had happened. Belk said that the healer claimed to have promised the Spirit Boar to spare the next boars they hunted in return for mending Gontra’s finger. Apparently it had been Pont who had shouted to spook them away. Roley had been angry at first but then had acknowledged that it was worth the loss of those two boars to have the spirits on their side.

Pell’s mind was in turmoil. Was Pell’s putting Gontra’s finger back in place really due to the healer’s ceremonies? How could that be? Why hadn’t Pont been able to put the finger back himself the first night if that was the case? Why hadn’t Exen stood up to Denit for Pell after Pell fixed his father’s finger? Just because Denit was Exen’s best friend and Denit hated Pell? For that matter why had Gontra come up with the story about falling into a bush and pulling his finger out OK?! He looked over to check his position relative to Belk. He cursed. While he had been daydreaming, the line of hunters had come onto a couple of horses. The center of the line had halted and the ends had started to curl around. Pell had missed Roley’s signals and had continued straight rather than curving around as he was supposed to. Since he was at the end of the line, no one had curved around in front of him to cause him to pay attention. He was way out of position! Roley was going to be furious! Pell was tempted to run to get back into position but, of course, running attracted attention and would almost certainly spook the horses. As quickly as he thought he could possibly get away with, Pell began slinking back toward his assigned position—if this hunt went poorly, Roley would probably beat him for his stupidity, he had beaten Bonat last fall for shouting at Boro during a hunt last fall. Beaten him so badly that Bonat had limped for days afterward. Bonat’s shout had spooked their intended prey at a time when everyone had been hungry and irritable after several weeks of poor hunting. At least this time they’d had good hunting for several days now, perhaps Roley wouldn’t be so angry—the sinking feeling in Pell’s stomach said otherwise though. He found himself trembling at a time when he needed all of his coordination to move quickly, yet quietly.

The circle was closing more slowly as they neared the horses, though the horses didn’t seem very skittish as yet. Pell continued trying to catch up to his position, trying to walk quietly but feeling as if the horses would surely be spooked soon. If by nothing else, simply by the pounding of his heart in his chest.

Suddenly one of the horses looked up! As the hunters slowed their pace even further, the other one looked up as well. The larger one swung its head about nervously, but all the hunters had become stationary. After a bit, the horses resumed their grazing. A small hand wave from Roley started everyone moving in again. Suddenly the horses looked up again—the larger one pranced around the smaller in a little circle. They both bolted toward the opening between Roley and Denit. The two hunters began shouting and waving their arms. Pell began running for his position. He had to close the circle. His absence was making the normally weaker section where the two points came together even more gaping. Roley and Denit successfully turned the horses back. But, as if it were a nightmare come true, now they headed for the hole Pell was supposed to have closed!

Pell ran faster than he thought he had ever run in his life—but it obviously wasn’t going to be fast enough! He felt terror detonate, as if he were running away from one of the night cats, rather than toward his own prey. The horses were going to get away and they were going to do it through the hole he had left while daydreaming! In desperation he skipped a step and hurled his spear. It was wide! With a sick sensation he saw his spear fly straight and true toward Tando, no it was going to be short!

No! The spear skipped off the ground and flew into Tando’s running feet. Pell saw as in slow motion, Tando’s arms flying out as he fell. Then Tando struck the ground, hard. The horses pounded away. Pell stumbled to a stop.

With great dread and a pounding heart he walked toward where Tando lay, praying to all the spirits that Tando would bounce back to his feet and say he was OK. But Pell could already tell that that wasn’t going to happen. Pell noticed that his own hands were trembling; in fact his whole body was shaking like an animal in its death throes. Suddenly and desperately, Pell’s bladder was full and he had to urinate—then there was a spasm in his crotch and a warm feeling spread down the inside of his thigh.

As Pell neared the group around Tando, he felt as if he were walking in a dream. He saw the hunters turning intermittently to look at him as he approached. Their countenances seemed to Pell much like the Evil Spirit masks that some of the healers wore at summer gatherings. He heard the word “Pell” repeatedly but seemed unable to understand what else was being said. Pell’s ears rung, his head felt light and his knees felt weak. He looked at Tando’s legs and, with relief, saw no blood or other sign of injury—then he realized that Tando was holding his left wrist… It was deformed. It was bent back at an angle.

Tando was white as the chalk of the Cliff.

Pell swayed, wondering momentarily if he was going to be able to keep his feet. Roley solved that problem by taking one quick stride and cuffing him to the ground. The blow which the mighty Roley delivered in an almost offhand way to the side of Pell’s head demonstrated once again the frightening physical power that made Roley their leader.

Roley stood furiously over the semiconscious, but nonetheless cowering, Pell, “First you daydream and get out of position! Then you rush to get back into position and frighten the horses! Then… then, you break the most important rule of the hunt. Over and over I say ‘Don’t throw your spear towards other hunters!’ Of course, you miss! Everyone knows you can’t hit anything! But somehow you do manage to hit Tando! I declare you ginja! Ginja forever! We’ve kept you in the tribe out of respect for your mother and your dead father. Now you have proved yourself worse than useless, you are dangerous too. We cast you out. We cast you out. We cast you out!”

The others took up the chant. Pell was not surprised to see Denit and Pont shouting the curse louder than any of the others. He thought of appealing to Gontra for support against this death sentence. Gontra surely owed Pell something, but as Pell searched out Gontra’s eyes, he saw them downcast. Gontra was chanting, same as the others, not as loud perhaps, but still the same death sentence, “We cast you out.” Exen too, eyes on the horizon, not meeting Pell’s. Boro was vehemently chanting beside his new hero Denit, his old pledge to follow Pell from the tribe if Pell was cast out appeared to be forgotten.

Pell looked pleadingly at Roley but Roley’s face hardened and he raised his spear. Pell scrabbled back a few paces on his buttocks then rose to his feet and began to run. Out of habit he curved around back toward the cave, running homeward as he always had before when things went wrong. He had probably covered a mile or two before he slowed, thinking about the fact that cave was no longer his home. He stumbled to a walk, tears streaming down his face and considered his options.

People just didn’t survive outside of their tribes. If they were cast out they died unless they were able to join another tribe. Pell had heard of a few who had lived for a season alone but they had been good hunters, cast out for fighting or some other crime. Even excellent hunters eventually died if no tribe took them in. A few weeks bad hunting, a minor injury with no one to help, an encounter with a night cat—there were just too many things to go wrong if you were alone.

However, Pell knew he wasn’t even a good hunter who might survive a season and later be taken back in. His poor hunting was after all the primary reason he had been cast out of his tribe. He knew it might have come to this anyway some winter, if it hadn’t been brought to a head by his stupidity today. But maybe with a few more years of maturity he wouldn’t have been so clumsy. Maybe he could hit something when he threw.

How could he possibly survive?

For a while he considered casting himself off the same cliff that Durr had. At least it would be a quick death rather than slow starvation. The thing that kept him going was the possibility that, if he survived for a few days, Roley might reconsider. Pell would need fire to keep away the night cats though. If he must sleep outside the cave he would also need more furs to keep warm. And he must find shelter somewhere, not necessarily a cave but at least a defendable windbreak

He suddenly realized that the women back at the cave didn’t know he was outcast as yet. Perhaps he could get some supplies? He continued back to the cave. His mother saw him coming alone. With an exclamation she ran out to ask whether he was hurt.

“No Momma, Roley ‘cast me out’.”

Donte staggered and turned white as a sheet. “No!” was all she could say.

Pell grasped her arm to hold her up but she sank slowly to the ground anyway. “Yes Momma. I’m hoping to get a coal from the fire and a few sleeping furs before the rest of the men return and tell the women. Without some supplies, there’s no way I’ll survive. I don’t know, maybe I don’t deserve to live. Perhaps there’s not a chance that I can make it. But... I want to try.”

Shaken to her very core, Donte just sat there, staring up at her son.

Pell shook her shoulder a little, “Momma! Please! If you won’t get me a few supplies before the hunters come back and tell everyone, I won’t have any chance at all.”

Donte’s face took on a look of resolve. “I’ll come with you, we’ll form our own tribe of two.”

Pell started back, aghast, then rethought the idea. It would be good to have some company in exile. Even in death. He realized that half the terror of being cast out was the thought of being completely alone. Later in the spring when the plants began to green and the tubers to fatten up Donte would be invaluable. She knew the woman’s art of gathering plant food.

Pell came back to reality. Right now it was early spring when they depended on the hunt for all their food and Donte, being a woman, would only be a heavier burden for an inferior hunter such as himself. It didn’t occur to Pell that Donte might help with the hunt, the concept of women hunting wasn’t within the pale of his experience. “Oh Momma, we can’t form a tribe without any hunters. You’d just die with me.”

“Better to die with you then. All my other children dead… so many years now... It’s no use going on if I lose you too.”

Pell thought a moment, “No! You’ve got to stay with the tribe, at least for now. You might be able to sneak me a few supplies if I need them. You wouldn’t be able to steal anything for me if you were an exile too. Later this summer, if I’m still alive, you could join me and help me gather for the winter. We could try to form our own tribe then. Besides, what I’m really hoping is that Roley will change his mind and let me back in the tribe. If you stay, you would be able to beg him for mercy on my behalf. You won’t be able to influence him if you’re an outcast too.”

Tears brimming in her eyes, Donte sat staring into the distance awhile, finally nodded, then said simply, “Wait.”

She turned and walked back up the path to the cave. A few minutes later she came out with a bundle and walked back to where the forlorn Pell stood, somewhat out of sight behind several small trees.

“Here,” she said handing him the bundle, “Two furs, one of Lenta’s old firepots with a couple of good coals, some flint, some sinew and thongs, a big piece of leather and a chunk of meat from yesterday’s kill. I’ve been thinking about where you should set up your camp. You need to be a day’s walk from here so you’ll be out of Roley’s regular hunting area. It would be good if it was towards the Aldans’ usual summer hunting areas so I would be able to find you when the gathering gets better.”

They talked a while and Pell agreed to try to set up his camp in a ravine a day’s walk in the direction of the summer gathering place. The tribe normally summered at the edge of a large area of grassland about two and a half days walk toward the summer tribal gathering and trading area which was a few days beyond that even. Thus, he would be about half way between the tribe’s winter and summer areas but at a day’s walk, still outside the hunting areas for either. The ravine they agreed upon was easy enough to identify because it had a spring fed stream. The water of the stream was known for running ice cold, even in the heat of summer.

Donte clasped Pell to her bosom. Realizing bemusedly that he had grown enough to be as tall as she was, Pell hugged her back a moment. Then he turned and trudged away.

Initially Pell started out directly for the ravine with the cold springs. He hadn’t gone far when he realized he wouldn’t be passing too far from the brush choked gulch where he had wanted to lay in waiting, hoping that an animal would get stuck in his trap. He had intended to go there later that day anyway. On the one hand he didn’t want to go, because he needed to set up a shelter as soon as possible against the fear of the big night cats. On the other hand, he realized that the thicket of brush might be a safe refuge from the cats, which would have difficulty insinuating their bulk within. It didn’t look like rain that night anyway and the dead brush would provide material for a fire. And so, instead of passing by, he turned into the mouth of the little gulch.

When he arrived at the brushy wall, he immediately smelled blood. Something had made a fresh kill nearby. He looked around but whatever it was it wasn’t on his side of the brush wall. Perhaps it was on the other side? Excitedly he crouched down and began to go through. A few paces into the mess of sticks and brush he saw some motion ahead. He realized that it was coming from the area he had worked on. There was a boar in there! And a wolf! He backed up warily holding his spear out in front of him to ward off the wolf if it came his way. His heart was throbbing but the wolf didn’t pursue him. In fact, it appeared that there were only a few abortive motions coming from the wolf. The boar lay still. Finally, holding his spear rigidly in front of himself he advanced again. When he got close again he saw that both animals had become thoroughly trapped in the little area between the sharpened stakes that he had set up the other day. He suspected that the pig had become trapped first. The wolf had probably come to investigate, hoping to make a meal of the pig.

In any case, they had become wedged into the small area with one another and it appeared that although the wolf had eventually killed the boar, the boar had battered the wolf up against Pell’s stakes and caused some serious injuries of its own. The wolf lay weakly on its side, lapping at blood still dripping from the boar’s carcass. It looked up at Pell’s approach and he could see the fear in its eyes. The wolf was rather small but had a beautiful pelt of silvery brown fur. He braced himself to plunge his spear into the wolf’s chest, thinking that the pelt would be valuable. He slid the spear through the stakes that blocked the exit and put the tip on the wolf’s chest so that he couldn’t miss.

The wolf looked into his eyes piteously—in those eyes Pell saw a reflection of himself, begging for his life from Roley. He cursed and pulled the spear back. The wolf was no threat in its current condition. Harvesting its pelt while he was traveling would be a waste anyway, he wouldn’t be able to stretch or work it. He had more pig than he could eat before it rotted and in any case, wolf meat was tough and stringy.

He started disengaging the stakes that blocked the passage. Once he had removed them all so that they no longer formed their one-way blockage of the passage, he reached in and grabbed the front limb of the dead boar. He heaved hard and began hauling it slowly back out of the narrow passage that been its deathtrap. The wolf lay unmoving. Pell pulled the boar back out to the end of the passage where he had left the bundle Donte had made for him.

To his dismay he saw that the bundle had fallen over! In horror he untied the bundle and felt the little firepot inside. It was barely warm! Desperately, he got out his good flint knife and made some shavings from one of the dry pieces of wood. He broke off some small dry twigs and laid them close to hand. He opened the fire pot and put the shavings inside on the coal that lay within. He blew gently. It didn’t bring a glow! Frantic, he shook the little vessel, nudged the coals and then blew some more. Spirits! The coals were dead!

He couldn’t possibly survive without the tribe, without a cave and without fire! He would have to go back and get another coal—but the hunters were probably already back! Perhaps he could trade the pelt of the wolf for a coal?

He turned and looked back into the tunnel. The wolf stood swaying in the entrance, obviously barely able to stand. He took his knife and walked over to it, it should be easy to kill. He planned to grasp its snout and cut its throat but as Pell reached for its nose the wolf licked his hand. He jerked his hand back but then recognized it for the friendly gesture it was. Once again Pell found himself unable to look into its sorrowful eyes while killing it. He backed away and began cutting up the boar’s carcass—after a minute he threw the boar’s head to the wolf. The animal lay down and began gnawing on it. While Pell skinned and cut up the boar he worried about what to do.

Done, he wrapped one haunch of the pig, with a chunk of the liver, which was all he estimated he could possibly eat before it rotted, in the large leather skin his mother had brought him. He carried this bundle back into the tunnel in the brush. He collected the downhill set of sharpened stakes that had trapped the two animals and worked his way past the uphill set. There he laid his bundle and the pig haunch in its leather. Then he used the sharpened stakes to make another one-way block facing uphill. Now the tunnel was again doubly blocked, but this time to keep animals away from his stuff rather than trapping them in a zone. He took his little firepot, made his way back out of the tunnel, wrapped as much of the pig meat in the pig’s own skin as he could carry and set off back to the Aldans’ cave.

He got back just before sunset and stopped on the path below the cave where he called for his mother. A crowd gathered at the ledge outside the cave to gawk at the doomed young man. Donte hurried down the path to him.

“Are you OK Pell? What’s all the blood?”

“Yes, I’m OK. The blood is from a boar I killed, but my firepot tipped over and my coal went out.”

“Oh no Pell! I don’t think they’ll let me get another coal. They’re in a foul mood. Pont hasn’t been able to do any good for Tando’s wrist and the hunting continued to go badly after you left. All of the last kill is gone, so they’re looking forward to a hungry night.”

“I’ve brought most of my pig. I’ll trade it for the coal. I could even try to fix Tando’s wrist if he’d like.”

“What? You have pig? Where did you get it?”

“Remember, that’s why I’m bloody, I killed a pig.” Pell wondered a moment how bad this lie was but decided that, after all, he had built the trap that killed the boar and he couldn’t help the fact that she would assume that he had killed it in a hunt.

Donte looked at him in stunned amazement. “What do you mean you could try to fix Tando’s wrist?” she asked in a near whisper.

“I fixed my finger when Pont couldn’t.” He reflected that he had only let the healer try once on his own finger. “I also fixed Gontra’s finger. It wasn’t any ‘bush’ or ‘Boar Spirit’. I’ve found a trick for doing it. I tried to tell Pont about it once but he won’t even listen to me.”

Donte’s eyes narrowed. Pell thought with dismay that even his own mother didn’t believe him. She said, “Give me some of the boar and the firepot. I’ll see whether they’ll trade... I don’t think I’d better bring up Tando’s wrist.”

Pell gave her the haunch from the boar. “I’ll give them the rest of the boar that I brought if they let you bring me a coal. All I’m keeping is one haunch.” He handed her the little firepot and she started up the hill.

More of the tribe had crowded out onto the ledge to stare and Pell felt quite self-conscious. He shifted from foot to foot and looked away at the horizon. He worried that dark would fall before he’d be able to get back to the brush choked ravine that he now thought of as his safe haven.

There was some shouting from up at the cave. Pell recognized Roley, Pont, and Donte’s voices but couldn’t understand what was said. After a bit, Donte came back down the hill. With mixed feelings he saw that she was carrying the little firepot carefully. So it must have a coal in it, meaning he’d won his deal. Why did he feel so disappointed?

He realized he’d been hoping that somehow, in view of his kill, Roley would change his mind and allow him to come back.

Donte stopped in front of him with a sad look in her eyes. “I asked them to let you stay. I think Roley was feeling guilty about exiling you but Pont reminded him about Tando’s wrist. Pont even tried to claim that you’ve been bringing bad luck to the tribe. Pont told Roley to just have the hunters come down here and take your meat, ‘because you were going to die anyway.’ Pont is so evil sometimes! Anyhow, the best I could get them to agree to was to let you have some coals.”

“’Let me have some coals?’ This meat is worth a lot more than a few lousy coals!” Then Pell thought of Tando’s wrist... actually, probably Tando’s life. “Oh well, you did what you could, thanks, Here’s the rest of the meat.” Pell loaded her down with the remainder of the boar, gave her another hug and hurried off with his firepot. “I’ve got to go before it gets dark,” he said over his shoulder.

The sun had set and it was nearly dark by the time he got back to the little brush-choked gulch. He quickly found the little pile of shavings he had made earlier and this time successfully started them on fire with the little firepot. With twigs he soon had a little fire going. To his surprise he saw that the young wolf was still there. It lay on its side gnawing on the skull of the boar. He had been sure that the wolf would drag itself away by now if it hadn’t already died. He again thought about killing it for its fur—then he looked the wolf in the eye once again—he decided it wasn’t going to happen.

Using a brand from the fire for light, he relocated up into the little tunnel in the brush. He moved into the area he had blocked off. He enlarged that little area by tearing out branches and limbs, chiefly to make the roof higher, piling the wood in the uphill part of the tunnel. Once he was sure that a small fire wouldn’t catch the entire brush pile he started a little fire from his brand. He unrolled his bundle and laid out his sleeping furs on the downhill side of the fire. He wanted to be able to make an escape if the brush pile did catch on fire.

Finally he sliced some strips off the pig haunch that he had kept. He roasted them over the little fire. For some reason this meal tasted better than any meal he had had before in his life. However, as he gorged on the pig his fear and dread, dread of a life alone, returned. Finally, after stoking his fire, he lay down to sleep. He tossed and turned a while, torn between feelings that he didn’t deserve to live after what he had done to Tando, and his burning hatred for Denit. He also felt sick betrayal over his lack of support from Boro, Gontra and Exen. Over and over he wondered how it would ever be possible for him to feed himself. Maybe he would gain his coordination soon and get better at throwing?

He briefly pictured himself returning to the Aldans triumphant, having become a mighty hunter, a hunter whom they desperately needed. Eventually he drifted into a sleep tormented by visions of Tando and his deformed arm. These shifted seamlessly into visions of Durr’s not too different deformity then of Tando/Durr lying broken at the bottom of the Cliff. He awakened repeatedly in cold sweats, often imagining that he could see the eyes of enormous night cats at the periphery of the light from his fire. He built up his little fire after each run of nightmares and then struggled to get back to sleep.

The next day dawned clear and cold again. Pell woke exhausted but was relieved to see no evidence of impending rain. Bad weather would make his journey to ravine of the cold springs much more difficult.

First he worked on the bundle his mother had given him. Using some of the thongs and leather straps within, he fashioned a shoulder sling so that he could carry it easily. He spent time putting some good coals from the fire into his little firepot. Then he picked up his spear and made his way out of the little tunnel.

To his amazement the young wolf was still there. She was sitting up and appeared to be waiting for Pell’s next move. When he set out on his journey she laboriously got to her feet and then limped along behind him. The wolf was almost carrying one hind paw but, after they’d been traveling a while, the wolf seemed to warm up. After a bit more she seemed to have little difficulty keeping up with Pell. By late morning, limping less, she occasionally ranged ahead a bit. When Pell’s direction turned out to be different than that of the wolf, she would swing around and follow behind him a little ways. Then, once sure of his direction, she would take the lead again. Pell thought it seemed to as if the wolf had become confused and thought that she and Pell were a small wolf pack.

The day passed slowly as Pell followed a route that he and the tribe had followed every spring and fall since before he could remember. He recognized that he was making better time than the Aldans did in their semiannual treks. After some thought he realized that, having few possessions, he wasn’t burdened like Aldans normally were when they made the trip. This thought again led him to worry about how he could possibly survive without the equipment and tools that the tribe had built up over the years. This was to say nothing of all the skills that different members of the tribe had that he did not. He wished that he had paid more attention to how the women cooked the Aldans’ meals. But at least he had vague ideas of how they cooked from being present while it was done. He hadn’t gone on gathering trips with the women since he was a toddler so his knowledge of the gathering of plants and roots was abysmal. When the plants began to green up later in the spring he would have virtually no idea which ones were edible and which ones weren’t. Of course, he would be able to recognize berries and some of the grains. How to separate the grains from their stalks and hulls and how to recognize the plants which had tubers underground—now that was another matter indeed.

He remembered the other hunters taunting him about “women’s work.” If only he actually did know how to do a woman’s work! Why hadn’t he let his mother join him in exile? To augment his despair, his thoughts returned to just how poorly he performed at the “man’s work” of hunting!

He trudged on, head down, heart heavy, nearly oblivious to his surroundings. Suddenly he heard the wolf growling in a menacing tone from somewhere behind him. What? Was the wolf going to attack him now?! For the Spirit’s sake, Pell wondered, why didn’t I kill it when I had the chance? He turned, swinging his spear about, to confront the wolf but the wolf was staring fixedly off to the north. She was snarling viciously now, lips wrinkled up, tail low. Pell glanced in the direction that the wolf was glaring. He saw a flicker of a tail and then a rippling, tawny body bounded into view. It was a lion that had been laying in ambush. Now, its ambush ruined it was accelerating his way! Pell’s bundle fell unnoticed as he vaulted into a nearby small tree, grasping its lower branches and swinging up. He scrambled up until the branches became too dense to make any more progress, then looked down. The lion stood on its hind paws at the base of the tree reaching up with outstretched claws. Shuddering, Pell realized that without the wolf’s warning he would already be crushed in those slavering jaws!

He looked about and saw to his amazement that the wolf was fifteen paces back, hackles up, her hair raised on end. She continued snarling, lips still curled back to show all of her teeth. Even more unbelievably, she was making little dashing movements toward the lion as if contemplating attack. Pell couldn’t believe his eyes. That wolf couldn’t possibly think that she could kill the lion, could she?

Suddenly, to Pell’s dismay he realized that the lion was trying to climb the tree. Cook fire discussions back at the cave had taught Pell that the smaller cats could climb trees after prey but there had been arguments about whether the big cats could. It looked like Pell might discover just who’d been right in those arguments—the hard way. The lion pulled up a little and looked like it was about to reach for a higher grip with its front paws! Then the wolf dashed in and snapped at its hindquarters! Snarling and snapping, the lion dropped out of the tree, knocking the wolf end over end. The big cat twisted after the wolf but the wolf skittered out of its path. The lion pursued halfheartedly, seemingly recognizing a futile chase. Moments later it returned to the base of the tree. Pell looked frantically about, considering his chances of leaping from this tree to a neighboring one.

As the cat began to rise up at the base of the tree, the wolf returned! Again it took up station fifteen paces back, snarling and snapping. The lion regarded it warily, looking up at Pell a moment longer. Then, to Pell’s complete astonishment, the lion slowly turned and moved off into the woods.

Pell regarded this turn of events in bewilderment. He realized that the wolf had saved his life twice. First by giving warning of the lion when he had been daydreaming, and second by attacking its hindquarters when it attempted to climb after him. He offered up a few prayers to the Spirit Wolf as he clung to the tree, still trembling.

After his nerves steadied and the shaking went away, he slowly climbed back down out of the tree, watching tremulously for any evidence of a returning lion. When Pell picked up his pack he smelled the meat within it and realized that the smell had probably attracted the lion. Amazingly enough, the animal hadn’t even gotten around to stealing the meat. He realized this also was probably only because of the wolf’s chivvying. Suddenly fear swept through Pell again—what if the coals in his firepot had gone out when he dropped the pack? He unpacked the little pot with trembling hands and checked the embers inside. To his relief, they seemed undisturbed, glowing readily when he blew on them. He considered building a fire with the embers in order to start new coals, just in case these were about to go out. However, it would be hours before a fire produced good coals again—he’d have to spend the night here.

Loathe to stay there without good shelter, especially after the experience he’d just been through, he started walking again. Then he began worrying that he might not find any shelter in Cold Spring Ravine either. Remembering its rough, rocky walls, he decided that his chances were much better there.

Pell continued on his way in a hyper alert state and this time, as he looked around, the sight of the wolf relieved him. On impulse he got out his pig haunch, carved off a chunk and tossed it to the young wolf. She bolted the meat down in a few ravenous gulps, then resumed her scouting position.

It was mid afternoon when they reached the ravine. Waters running down out of the mountain had cut the ragged cleft. High mountain streams disappeared into the plateau that lay above the ravine, to reappear as several springs at the beginning of the cleft. Snow runoff from the mountain made up most of the water in the stream and was the reason it ran so icy cold year around. Pell began to explore for a natural shelter. After spending an hour searching, a large limestone overhang remained the best site he’d found. The stream had under cut this area thousands of years ago and then diverted away as it cut deeper. The overhang would block wind and rain and it would protect his back, but it left three sides exposed. In addition he could tell that, when it rained, the water ran back under the overhang to drip into his proposed campsite. There was a very small shelf in the back, with an overlying depression in the roof of the overhang that was higher than the rest. The water wouldn’t wet that area, but it was barely big enough for him and his pack, any protective fire would be located right where he expected that the water would be dripping.

He placed his pack up on the little high shelf, quickly collected a little firewood, made shavings and got out his firepot. To his immense relief he found that the coals were still glowing. He started a fire easily enough. With the fire to protect his pack he took his leather and began making trips down to the stream to collect mud mixed with broken reeds. He brought the mud back and, as he had seen the women do at the mouth of the Aldans’ cave where they had had a similar problem, he began forming a “drip lip” on the roof of his overhang. He placed it far enough out to provide an area where he could store dry firewood and sleep down beside it. Smoke from his fire had risen into the area of the little shelf and he could tell that it would be nearly impossible to sleep up there. Just inside the area where water would fall from his “drip lip,” he made another ridge of mud on the floor to divert water running over the floor away from his new living area. When he finished, he still had time to collect a substantial pile of firewood before it became dark.

As he prepared his dinner he saw the wolf slinking closer and closer. She was obviously spooked by the fire but nonetheless crept nearer until she was well under the overhang with him. With some surprise, he found himself relieved rather than disturbed at the prospect of having a wolf in his shelter with him. He shrugged, she had saved him from the lion. After a bit he threw the wolf another chunk of meat. He considered this a bit. It seemed a dull-witted thing to have done when he was certainly going to run out of food soon. On the other hand, it seemed a worthy offering to the Spirit Wolf. A Spirit Wolf to whom, after all, he had found himself praying earlier that day. As he settled down for the night he considered a plan for the next day. He must hunt, he decided. The tribe only hunted when it needed meat, because, with no way to store it, getting too much in reserve simply meant a lot of spoiled meat. They only hunted daily during the winter when hunting was poor and meat froze and therefore kept longer. However, the way he threw, Pell knew that he would have to hunt all day, every day, to have any hope of surviving even in the summer. Spirits alone knew how he might survive the winter.

True to his plan, he banked his fire to keep animals out of the cave and set out to hunt the next day. He put his haunch of pig meat and the meager contents of his pack up on the smoky shelf in the back of the cave, thinking that the smoke should keep scavengers away.

True to expectation, his hunt was a failure. The wolf followed him faithfully throughout the day. Pell’s initial reaction was that the animal would spoil his hunt, but he soon realized that she was far quieter than he was. In addition, she recognized game long before he did. He found himself watching for cues from Gimpy, as he was calling the animal in his own mind. In the early afternoon, they came upon a deer. Pell quietly and slowly moved closer with his spear. The wolf slunk along a few paces to Pell’s side. They were moving upwind and the deer seemed unsuspecting, but then Pell stepped on a pebble that crunched. The deer’s head came up with a start and it looked right at Pell. He cast his spear but it whistled harmlessly over the deer’s head. The wolf took off after the deer like a bolt of lightning but the deer bounded away unharmed. Pell was sitting on a fallen tree trying to restore a decent point to his spear when Gimpy came back, tongue lolling, limping more than before. He considered the possibility of killing and eating the wolf if the hunting went as badly as he feared. He wasn’t sure he could bring himself to do it, but it seemed likely that he could if he got hungry enough. He realized that the animal served as a kind of walking larder.

The remainder of the day passed without the two hunters drawing any closer to success than they had with the deer. As they followed an animal trail back toward their campsite, Pell found himself thinking wistfully about the brush-choked ravine with its little tunnel. Perhaps he should have stayed there. He could have rebuilt his trap in the tunnel and perhaps more pigs would have become stuck within. He despaired of his ability to stalk close enough to make a kill with his charred spear points. Why hadn’t he asked his mother to steal him some flint spearheads? He thought back to his exploration of the ravine the previous afternoon. There was a narrow point in Cold Springs Ravine. Could he choke it with brush? He shook his head at the sheer volume of material it would require. He didn’t even have a decent hand ax!

As they neared the campsite, Pell nearly stepped on a rabbit that had been frozen right there in plain sight. It rocketed away and into the brush. He and Wolf gave short pursuit, but to no avail as the rabbit had disappeared into dense brambles where they couldn’t follow. Pell peered into the brambles. He mused that the little tunnel where the rabbit had disappeared into the brambles resembled, on a smaller scale, the tunnel where he and Wolf had captured their boar.

As they completed their journey back to their camp, Pell’s thoughts drifted repeatedly back to the little tunnel in the brambles. His mind envisioned blocking the tunnel in the brambles at arms depth and then rigging a one way passage into the tunnel with sharpened twigs—a miniature version of his boar trap. Then he thought of the rabbit he had caught with the noose. He became more and more excited over the prospect of getting more meat it this fashion. He resolved to try making both kinds of traps the next morning.

Back at the camp he steeled himself to eat spoiling meat. He built up the banked fire first, then got the boar haunch down from its shelf in the back. He came out coughing and hacking from all the smoke up in the shelf area. To his dismay the meat was dark with exposure to all the smoke! He wouldn’t even have spoiled meat to eat; the smoke had ruined it completely!

Chagrined, he stared at the blackened haunch. His stomach rumbled with the anticipation of the first of many days of hunger. Perhaps only the outer layers had been ruined? He cut into it. The outer layers had a hard crusty, almost cooked consistency. The depths were spoiling but might still be edible. He cut off a strip and sat down to eat. As he expected the deep meat tasted badly, to his immense surprise the more superficial meat tasted much better, despite the taste of the smoke! In fact as he chewed he realized with some surprise that he liked the flavor the smoke had given the meat. Perhaps it wasn’t actually good meat, but the taste of the smoke at least covered the taste of it where it was rotting.

In any case if the meat on the surface tasted better where the smoke had gotten to it, he realized he could make more surface. He cut the rest of the haunch up into strips and took it up to the smoky little shelf in the back of the overhang. He laid the strips of meat out over some sticks so that the smoke could get to all sides of it.

The next morning he ate more smoky meat and set out to build the traps he had been excitedly thinking about until late in the evening. As he walked, he kept an eye out for edible vegetables, as he craved something besides meat. He found some young onions sprouting and pulled them up. The bulbs were quite small as yet but he ate much of the green part as well. Soon his mouth tasted foul, but the onions were a welcome change from the all meat diet he’d been eating. Besides, it was commonly known that people who only ate meat became sick. He picked more onion sprouts to take home for his evening meal. Bushes of many types were beginning to flower. He thought that some of the flowering bushes would have berries eventually, but that didn’t help much at present. He pulled up a variety of other plants as he walked along, looking for ones with edible roots. He did find one that had a bulbous portion. He wiped it clean and took a bite. It was very tough but chewing it did release some sweet fluids. This made him think it might be edible. He found a few more of the same type and chewed on them as well. He wasn’t sure whether they were different tubers than the women gathered or whether it was simply too early in the season for them to have developed much storage in their roots. Perhaps if they were boiled? He collected some of the tubers to take back to his shelter as well.

He stopped at several thickets. Searching around their bases, he found holes where tracks showed that small animals traveled in and out. When he found a hole in the brambles that seemed to have impenetrably thick walls, he blocked it off with a stone that he placed as far into the little tunnel as he could reach. Then he sat down with his knife and sharpened sticks. These he worked into the opening so that the points aimed inward, allowing passage into the tunnel, but blocking passage back out. He became quite excited about his design when his own hand got stuck while reaching in to adjust the sticks.

When he found openings that didn’t resemble tight tunnels—and most of them didn’t— he made a noose from one of his thongs and tied the other end firmly to a stout branch. Then he carefully suspended the loop within the opening from small twigs. The top of the noose went at the top of the opening and the bottom of the loop he suspended across the opening about half way up. This he envisioned would catch below the animal’s neck. He worried that the animals would stop upon seeing the thong hanging across the opening. If they stopped to smell it and smelled Pell’s scent they might not enter. If only he could be chasing them so that they would run into their tunnels so fast they couldn’t investigate them! But he wouldn’t be able to chase a rabbit into its tunnel very often. While working on placing one thong, he got it tangled in the brush. When he pulled it out it had leaves twisted about it. Aha! He twisted grass leaves about the most visible part of the thong where it hung across the entrance. As he got up to leave he saw some rabbit droppings and had another idea. Hunters often smeared themselves with herbivore dung before hunting to hide their scent. He’d seen wolves doing the same thing by rolling in droppings. He took some fresh rabbit pellets back to the trap, smeared them on the thong and then rewrapped it with grass. As he walked he smeared the rest of his thongs with rabbit dung.

He placed about ten traps that morning and then went back to work on improving his shelter. As he neared his campsite Ginja began a rumbling growl. Oh no! Pell thought, another lion? To his consternation, when he carefully arrived in view of the little outcropping underneath which he had set up, he saw people squatting in front of his fire! They had even built his fire up. His stomach sank as he wondered if they had stolen his remaining meager possessions. He didn’t even contemplate the possibility of fighting anyone for what was his. After losing many fights to Denit, he would never consider the possibility that he might win such a physical contest. Especially against more than one opponent and he saw at least two near his fire. He stole closer, hoping to observe without being seen. Suddenly and with great dismay he recognized that the brawny, hairy individual nearest the fire was Tando. Tando’s arm, still deformed, hung out over his knee in front of him, as if to taunt Pell, “Look at what you have done!”

Had they come to take revenge?

Then he recognized that the person further back under the overhang was his mother Donte. She seemed to have heard something and moved out into the light, peering about. She saw Pell and called out to him. “Pell, come on down. Tando wants to see if you can fix his arm.”

Pell slowly walked down to the campsite. Distantly he noted the wolf slinking away into the forest. He was trembling with reaction. Might he be able to right his wrong? Conversely, the likelihood his being able to fix Tando’s arm seemed remote. It was after all, much larger than a finger or a rabbit bone.

The pall of his situation subdued Pell’s reunion with Donte. Pell had the feeling that she saw his impending doom clearly. Though she saw no realistic chance of avoiding it she was grasping at straws and so had brought Tando here. She told him that the tribe was on its way to its summer campsite. Producing one bright point in a litany of bad omens, Tando told Pell that Gontra had admitted to him that Pell had been the one who fixed his finger. Tando had come to Donte asking if she knew where Pell had gone. When he realized that it was close to their route, he had asked if she would go with him to find Pell. Though she didn’t come out and say it, Pell could tell that even Donte was dubious at best regarding Pell’s claim to have reduced Gontra’s finger. This even after Gontra’s admission. Pell realized then just how preposterous his claim must seem. He found it surprising himself that Tando had decided to seek him out. Tando must be desperate as well. Donte and Tando had brought a little meat for Pell but, for fear of infuriating Pont, had not told the rest of the tribe where they were going.

One look at Tando’s face told Pell that Tando was torn between viewing Pell as evil incarnate for having destroyed his life and considering him as a possible savior. Pell had been staring at Tando’s arm from across the campfire and finally Tando held it out and exclaimed, “Spirits! What are you waiting for? Come on now, give it a try!”

Pell swallowed, “Let me look at it first.” He moved around the fire to examine it. The break was about two fingerbreadths proximal to the wrist and had produced an angulation in the direction of the back of his hand. There was considerable swelling about the break but Pell had a sense that the bones were shifted or displaced toward the back of the hand and that they were overlapped to make the arm shorter.

He gently probed it with his fingertips and Tando immediately reacted, pulling away, “Just fix it, you ginja fool, I don’t need you to poke it!”

Pell realized with some surprise that Tando was more frightened than he was. “Tando,” he said as calmly as he could, “I must feel it to try to understand how it’s broken and therefore how I might possibly try to put it back in place. I’ve fixed two fingers with my trick but I don’t know whether it’ll even work for a wrist. I’ll try if you wish, but just fixing fingers caused a lot of pain, it’s bound to hurt even more trying to fix your arm.”

Tando seemed surprised. However, he appeared to be reassured, by Pell’s calm demeanor. “Yeah, well Pont’s jerking on it almost killed me, so I suppose that I’m already aware that it’s going to hurt. OK, do what you can.” He held out his arm and turned his eyes away, gritting his teeth

“Wait. Do you have any hemp to chew for the pain?”

“No.”

Donte stood up. “I saw some hemp growing on the sunny side of the ravine. It’s down a ways. I’ll get some and be right back.” She started off down the canyon, seemingly relieved to have something constructive to do.

Pell sat down and surreptitiously began palpating his own arm in the area of the wrist where Tando’s was deformed. As opposed to the two dislocated fingers that Pell had reduced so far, he soon recognized that Tando’s arm was deformed in an area where there must not be a joint. At least when he felt his own arm in that area, just proximal to the wrist, it felt solid without even a hint of the flexibility provided by a joint. This must be bone in this area, he thought, not a joint. Tando must have broken the bone, whereas I “broke” or dislocated the joint in my finger. Pell wondered a moment whether the same trick of bending it back would work for a broken bone like it did for a dislocated joint— then he remembered that it worked in the rabbit’s broken leg. But were rabbits different than people? He’d just as well try, he decided.

Donte arrived back with some hemp while Pell was still contemplating the problem. His mind seemed to alternate from considering the complexity of Tando’s condition, to shrinking back from the impossibility of the entire situation. Tando began chewing and after a while he began to look glassy eyed. Pell got him to walk over to the stream. He had him lie down and put his arm in the icy water. Tando immediately pulled the limb back out of the water, protesting bitterly about the cold. Thinking of the effect that his calm tone of voice had had before, Pell spoke in a soothing tone and reminded Tando of how cold makes it hard to feel your fingers. He told Tando that he was sure the cold temperature had helped with the pain when he reduced his own and Gontra’s fingers. Pell continued calmly reassuring him and Tando eventually put the arm back in the stream, lying on his back with his other arm over his eyes.

Pell waited until Tando had resumed his drunken expression then lifted the arm out of the water to look at it. It was pale and cool. Pell put it back in the water and then, taking a deep breath, stepped into the icy water himself, positioning himself over Tando’s arm and trying to picture how best to grasp the wrist. He lifted it out of the water and bent it back as he had bent the fingers and the rabbit leg back. It was too big and the water made it too slippery! He couldn’t pull it out to length! Tando immediately started to struggle and the arm slipped out of Pell’s grasp. In a slurred tone Tando began berating him—for breaking his arm in the first place, for putting it in the cold water, for jerking painfully on it, for not getting it straight, for ruining his life, for killing him slowly, for being a worthless ginja, outcast, lowlife. Pell cringed, heart pounding, wanting nothing more than to jump up and run away.

He got out of the water and backed away a few paces. Then he turned and struggled to again speak calmly. Pell couldn’t keep the tremor out of his voice, but Tando, in his drugged state, didn’t seem to notice. “Sorry Tando, your wrist was just too big and slippery for me, I just need something to help me get a better grip. You settle down, I’ll look for something to help me get that grip and we’ll try it again.”

Tando looked blearily at Pell for a moment, considering. “OK,” he slurred Donte gave him some more of the hemp to chew.

Pell walked back up to the campsite thinking furiously. Easily said but how could he get a better grip? For a moment he envisioned tying a slipknot around the wrist with a leather strap. How would he bend the bone back while he pulled on it though? He pawed through his meager possessions and looked around the campsite. His eye fixed on a piece of driftwood left from an old flooding of the ravine. It lay near some leather straps he had made earlier while cutting out thongs for his “traps.” It was about half a hand wide and the length of a forearm. He picked up the driftwood and the straps and went back down to look at Tando’s wrist. Tando snored loudly, oblivious to the world as Pell looped straps about his own arm in different directions and held the piece of driftwood up to his wrist, cocking his head to look at it from different angles. Finally, Pell took his hand ax and split it lengthwise. He hacked and scraped away at it until he had a fairly flat little board with a relatively smooth side. This smooth side fit comfortably against Pell’s own forearm, wrist, palm and fingers.

Pell laid the board against Tando’s palm and considered. Because of the angulation at Tando’s wrist, the portion of the board, which should lie against the forearm, stood away at least a handspan. Pell scratched his head, contemplating the problem. He tied the board to Tando’s palm with a couple of leather straps. With a shock of excitement, he realized that the portion of the board that would eventually lie against the palmar surface of the forearm gave him a handle such that, when he pulled on it, it would bend the bone back! This would increase the deformity like he’d had to do in reducing both fingers and also the rabbit’s broken leg! He wrapped the board into place with even more straps, extending from the hand, back up across the wrist and just onto the forearm bones, but only on the hand side of the break. Tando had tolerated all this fairly well, with only an occasional moan. The hemp must be working its magic fairly well even without Pont’s other herbal ingredients. Pell inspected the apparatus a moment more then put Tando’s arm, board and all, back in the cold water. Tando moaned and struggled a bit but tolerated it better this time. When Pell thought the wrist should be numb, he pulled it out and checked the straps, snugging up a few even tighter than he had gotten them before. He put Tando’s arm back in the water again and once more stepped out into the icy water to stand over the arm. As the submerged arm cooled again, Pell carefully considered how to exert the greatest possible force during this next try. He was fairly certain that Tando wouldn’t be giving him another chance if he failed this time. He had pulled very hard on the two fingers he had reduced. How much harder might he have to pull on an arm?

Pell bent Tando’s arm up to a right angle at the elbow. He grasped the proximal part of the board with his right hand, just below the fracture, bending the wrist and hand back. He grasped the other end of the board with Tando’s strapped fingers in his left hand then put his foot on Tando’s biceps just above the bent elbow. With a surge, Pell pulled mightily. The board bent the bone even farther back at the fracture site. Still through the board, Pell could feel the bones grinding together and slipping around. Tando flailed up, striking Pell on the back, though Pell hardly noticed. With his own left hand, which was grasping the board and Tando’s hand, he pulled the wrist back straight. This maneuver laid the board back down against Tando’s proximal forearm.

Pell stared. Yes! The board lay flat against the arm! Tando’s arm was straight again! It even seemed like it was back to its original length! Tears ran down Pell’s cheeks. He started to let go, expecting Tando’s arm to stay straight. The dislocated fingers had remained straight, after he had reduced them. To his alarm, in a sickening fashion the arm started to bend again. Pell remembered that the rabbit’s leg had done the same thing. He pushed the board back down against Tando’s forearm—this seemed to hold it straight. He held it there with one hand and lifted his own feet out of the icy water to sit on the bank and look at his work. Absently Pell reached out, picked up one more of the leather straps, and began to wrap it around the proximal forearm to secure the board in place as a splint. While doing this Pell slowly came to realize that Tando was still pounding him weakly on the back, all the while gasping in great wracking sobs.

Pell turned, “Tando, it worked. Your arm looks straight!”

Tando looked at his arm, still gasping. Then his eyes rolled back and he collapsed to the ground. For panic stricken minute, Pell feared that Tando’s spirit had left him, but after watching carefully, he could tell that Tando was still breathing. With a gasp, Pell began breathing again as well.

Pell slowly began to wind even more leather straps into place. When he had Tando’s arm firmly strapped to the wooden splint he propped it against the supine Tando's abdomen. To his amazement, a sense of complete exhaustion rolled over Pell. He considered the physical effort involved in what he had just completed and it didn’t seem like much, however he seemed to be unraveled. He lay back next to Tando, trembling.

To hide her own tears, Donte had gone out collecting firewood while Pell whittled on the little board. Her own nerves were tattered by the battering alteration of despair and hope for her only surviving child. She didn’t honestly want to survive Pell’s death, a death that she saw as inevitable unless Roley took him back into the Aldans. A squalid death in starvation or a savage death in the jaws of some predator—in either case it would be a desolate end for a mother’s son. Her hopes had been buoyed high upon Gontra’s admission that Pell—believe it or not, Donte’s own son—had in fact been the one to reduce his dislocated finger.

The ability to perform such miracles was a Spirit given gift that could make you welcome in any tribe, even if you were an abysmal hunter—even such an abysmal hunter that a mother would recognize the lack of skill in her own son. Donte’s high hopes had been dashed repeatedly on the stones of disbelief. This was, after all, the boy she had raised for thirteen summers, always watching for the signs of the distinction that a mother hopes for in her child, yet, being honest with herself, never seeing it.

Pell had been a scrawny, clumsy child, and though initially friendly, after many beatings at the hands of his tormentor, Denit, he had become fearful and shy. Only the similarly afflicted Boro had remained as Pell’s friend. Nonetheless, Donte had loved her son and had still hoped against hope that he would prove to have some distinctive skill. If not skill as a hunter, then something else that would prove his worth. When Tando had asked her to take him to Pell, she had begun praying to all the spirits that she knew of. Praying for a miracle that she didn’t truly believe could occur. On edge when Tando first asked Pell to reduce the wrist, horrified when Tando became angry at Pell’s initial poking, relieved when Pell calmly reassured Tando, then finally and desperately disappointed when Pell’s attempt failed—Donte’s emotions had whipsawed back and forth so brutally that she had stumbled back into the bushes where she emptied her stomach violently on the ground.

Seeking solace in a familiar routine, she set out to gather wood. While dully and tediously collecting a leather strap full of dry sticks, Donte had arrived at the conclusion that she must stay in Cold Springs Ravine with her son. Her son couldn’t possibly survive without her, and she couldn’t bear to rejoin the Aldans with Tando. With a crippled Tando, and with word certain to get out that, not only had Pell crippled the marvelous hunter that had been Tando, but that her son had tried and, of course, failed to amend the damage he had wrought.

She arrived back at the little clearing below Pell’s shelter with a leaden cloud of despair, ready to find Tando hostile and angry. She searched for words to brace Pell’s spirits. Her load of wood clattered to the ground. As if struck dead by the Spirits, Pell and Tando both lay inanimate at the edge of the stream! Donte cried out, rushing to them. Then her heart leapt with joy as Pell rose on one elbow to look toward her. She stumbled to a halt, “What happened? Are you OK? What’s wrong with Tando?”

Pell grimaced, “Yes, I’m fine. I think Tando will be OK too; he’s just had too much hemp. His wrist did go back in place though.”

Donte turned wildly to look at Tando’s wrist. It was extensively bound to Pell’s piece of driftwood and thus almost completely hidden from view by the leather straps. Nevertheless, it was obvious that the grotesque deformity that had been present for the past two days was gone! Donte felt little prickles in her scalp and, lightheaded but still staring at Tando’s arm, she sat down with a “whump.” Tears streamed freely down her face. Pell got up and moved to her side, “Are you OK?”

“Yes,” she sobbed, clinging to her son, “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

***

To read the rest, look for “Bonesetter” by Laurence E Dahners at your e-book seller.

Table of Contents

Copyright

Author’s Note

Preprologue

Author’s note

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

Author’s Afterword

Acknowledgements

Excerpt from BONESETTER

Chapter One

Chapter Two