Dolphins’ World chapter two

A novella by Canadian Science Fiction Author

Phyllis K Twombly

Chapter Two

Chief engineer Max Bruin sensed the change in direction of his escape pod. Instead of a continued ascent to the surface it felt like the pod was being moved sideways. “Hell of an undercurrent,” he muttered to himself. He tried again to open his eyes. They still ached from the blinding flash of light that had burst from his computer screen back on the Andreas.

When the pod opened the air took on a strange fish-like odor. Small hands tugged on his sleeves. He followed their guidance, grateful that the crew had found him so quickly. There was no sound except for a background hum and the sound of their footsteps. “I’m grateful for the rescue, guys. But why is everyone being so quiet? Did we take refuge in a tomb or something?”

He was answered by a series of clicks and whistles.

Bruin chuckled in spite of his pain. “I see. Still playing pranks on the chief engineer, are we? I hate to spoil the fun but could you take me to whatever now passes for sick bay? My eyes are killing me.”

The two figures guiding him stopped. One of them touched a hand to his temple. Through squinting eyes he thought he saw a bit of blue flesh. He groaned.

“Oh, that’s just great. My vision starts to come back and nothing’s the right color.”

Bruin allowed his hand to be guided until he felt a long flat surface. “An examining table! Now we’re making progress.” He allowed himself to be helped onto the surface. He’d just begun to relax when he realized straps were being secured around his arms and legs. He tried to sit up but a hand gently pressed against his forehead. There were more clicks and whistles. A thought flashed through Bruin’s mind just before he passed out. Perhaps it wasn’t his crewmates who had found him but the aliens who lived in the Aquarium.

****

Captain Dion felt a smooth wet sensation on her skin. The blue creature had wrapped its webbed hand around hers. She let it lead her down a dim corridor. There was an entrance to another chamber at the end of it. Once inside she compulsively gripped the alien’s hand harder. She was completely unprepared for the sight before her.

Max Bruin, chief engineer of the Andreas, lay prostrate inside a water filled chamber. An opening around his face allowed for limited head movement. Bruin managed to turn slightly towards her. “Hello, Captain. Did everyone get off the Andreas safely?”

Captain Dion shook off her shock. “Uh, yes. These creatures were very helpful in bringing us all here. We haven’t found any way to communicate with them yet.”

Bruin waved his arm inside the water surrounding him. “That’s what this device is for. Don’t ask me how it works but it translates their clicks and whistles into thoughts and images. It’s quickly becoming more like speech. I guess that means they’re learning English. We’ve been exchanging quite a few ideas…”

Dion approached the tube and gently placed her hands on it. “Are you okay in this thing?”

“Never better. Now look over there.” Bruin rolled his eyes in the direction of a console she hadn’t noticed before. The blue creature walked over and tapped it. A look of concentration crossed Bruin’s face as the creature emitted a series of clicks and whistles.

“He says something like, ‘it’s a pleasure to host such charming creatures.’ I think he used the word charming. Either that or he thinks we’re naïve. He wants to apologize if we found their behavior aggressive.”

Dion frowned slightly. “Tell him we’re grateful for the hospitality. Ask him if there’s any other way to communicate that would allow you to get out of this thing.”

Bruin wriggled slightly. Clicks and whistles filled the air before he could speak. “The translation is already automatic for them. This device is for our benefit. Once they analyze enough of our language they should be able to create a computer program we can all use.”

Dion raised her eyebrows. “Just how long is this analysis supposed to take?” She sighed as another series of clicks and whistles broke into the relative quiet.

Bruin smiled patiently. “A day, maybe two. I’ll be a bit wrinkled by then but think of the science and technology we’ll be able to exchange when we can communicate freely. They have so many questions.”

Dion scowled. “Maybe we shouldn’t tell them everything.”

Bruin bit his lip. “It’s too late for that. They know everything that was in the Andreas computer: programs, personal logs, passwords, everything. We have no secrets from these people. Actually they find us a bit primitive. We could stand to learn some of their sciences.”

Captain Dion turned around at the sound of multiple footsteps. The eighty-seven men and women who made up the crew of the Andreas were being escorted into the chamber by more blue creatures.

Dion turned to Bruin. “What’s going on?”

“The inhabitants of this planet require water submersion at least twice a day. This chamber has been set up to provide us with oxygen while our hosts go for their swim. It’s quite a feat of engineering. They’ve put together a series of rotating air pods to provide the upper half of this chamber with a breathable atmosphere while the rest of the facility is flooded. The water levels in here should only rise about four feet…unless a seal breaks. Then we could be in trouble.”

Dion shook her head. “Tell them we have emergency gear for situation like this on our spaceship.”

“They’ve already taken the liberty of bringing that gear from the Andreas. It’s in the compartment outlined by lights if you need it. The water is about to start coming in. You’d better tell everyone what’s going on.”

Dion turned to address her crew. “Alright, here’s the situation. Our hosts seem to be able to breathe underwater. They need to be submerged in water twice a day and they’ve designed this compartment to give us air while they swim around. We’re still going to get wet because four feet of water will be allowed into this compartment. I don’t want to hear any panic or complaining. If anything goes wrong I want each department leader to proceed to retrieve scuba gear for their team from that compartment.” She pointed to the door outlined in lights.

Bruin chuckled. “I beg to be excused from that assignment, Captain.”

Gibbs stepped forward. “I’d be happy to fill in for you, Chief.”

Dion smiled. “You chose your team well, Mr. Bruin.”

****

The crew of the Andreas watched with a mix of curiosity and amazement as their hosts swam through the water they stood in. Dion kept a watchful eye on the chamber containing her chief engineer. She raised her eyebrows when one of the blue creatures began to adjust a segment of the tube just below Bruin’s shoulders.

Bruin winked at her. “It’s alright, Captain. At first they weren’t sure what part of the human body was the equivalent of their melon. That’s the sound organ in the front of their heads…”

“Thank you. I know what a dolphin’s melon is, Mr. Bruin.”

“These creatures believe it’s more like their seat of emotion and instinct. They make less differentiation between the mind and the emotions than we do. That’s something important to keep in mind when you begin negotiations with them.”

Dion frowned. “What will I be negotiating for, Mr. Bruin?”

A dark look briefly crossed the man’s face. “I can’t tell you right now. They’re about to start listening to my thoughts again.” He smiled brightly at her as two of the creatures resealed the tube against his shoulders. They pulled the rest of the tube away to give him more freedom of movement.

****

Next time; negotiations with the aliens.

Phyllis K Twombly

Dolphins’ World: Chapter One

A novella by Canadian Science Fiction Author

Phyllis K Twombly

Chapter One

The crew of the Andreas had adopted their captain’s tendency to call the spaceship ‘Andy.’ It had been somewhat of an adjustment for the ship’s computer but Andy soon showed a preference for the shorter version.

Chief engineer Bruin lived up to the physical part of his name. His muscles came in handy whenever some of Andy’s larger components exhibited their tendency to jam. Other crew members knew to stay out of his way when he began to wrestle with the machinery.

Bruin’s mind was on other things at the moment. A habitable planet had been found. Unfortunately this orb was made up of even more water than Earth. From this distance it was hard to spot the few land masses the computer insisted were there.

Bruin pressed the voice recognition button on his console. “Recognize chief engineer, Andy.”

A pleasant male voice responded. “The computer recognizes chief engineer Max Bruin. Please state your instructions.”

“Has the planet been given a designation yet?”

The computer responded immediately. “Captain Dion has named the planet the Aquarium.”

Bruin chuckled. “Is that going to be its official designation?”

“Unless the inhabitants have another name for it, the designation will remain.”

Bruin placed his large hands against his console. “Computer, are you telling me we’ve detected intelligent life in the Aquarium?”

“Negative, Mr. Bruin. The conclusion is computer generated. This system’s files were downloaded by the artificial satellite detected at the edge of the solar system. The data was then relayed to an underwater complex in the Aquarium.”

Bruin sucked in his breath. “Wow! Tell me, Andy, when were you planning on informing the rest of us?”

“Please restate your question.”

“Is the captain aware of the data download?”

“That’s unlikely.”

Bruin groaned. “I suspected as much. Why do you always make me tell her the bad news?”

****

A series of clicks and whistles greeted the large blue creature with black eyes. He responded with a similar vocalization as he eyed the computer screen. The skin around his bottle shaped snout wrinkled slightly. He could see what was happening; he didn’t need a running commentary. He got it anyway.

“Commander, the alien craft is about to splash down. They have reconfigured it so that it won’t sink. If they make it to land…”

The station commander shook his head and torso. ”I can see that, Manti. We’ll have to make it sink.”

There was a pause before the clicks and whistles responded. ”Make it sink? The aliens might view that as an act of war on our part.”

”Not at all. They’re completely unfamiliar with our technology. I’ll send out a few sonic pulses that will overload their computer. They’ll assume it’s a malfunction. Have a dozen of your commandos ready. Retrieve the engineer. Their computer files list his affinity for lower life forms. He’s the one most likely to be useful for the linguistic interface.”

****

Bruin kept the descent through the alien atmosphere from becoming too disconcerting to the crew, all the while swearing about damage to Andy’s systems. The ship would need major repairs if they could find any metal on this water logged planet…assuming Andy was even salvageable after the splash down still to come.

Bruin double checked his computations. Andy’s triple side wings were now deployed. With the correct angle, it was possible the wings and pontoons might allow the spaceship to land and glide over the top of the water’s surface; maybe even until they could find a land mass. Possible, Bruin mused, but not likely. They were still coming down fast.

Still, attempting to touch down and glide on the surface of the water was a better option than having the ship submerge. A flash of nausea almost overwhelmed the chief engineer. He grasped a nearby console, only to see serious warnings on the computer screen. Several key landing systems were shorting out. The wings retracted. The pontoons disengaged and dropped into the water below.

Bruin tapped the intercom button. “Captain, something’s fishy down here! All the anti-submergence functions are failing!”

A calm female voice answered. “That’s impossible, Mr. Bruin. Please recheck your sensors.”

Bruin swore under his breath as he released the button. “Damn unflappable hybrid! She didn’t seem to care about the aliens copying our computer files, either.” He tapped a few more keys on his console before hitting the intercom again. “There’s no mistake, Captain. We’re going underwater!”

“Thank you, Mr. Bruin. This is Captain Dion to all crew. Execute water contingency plan four. Everyone who can’t swim is to evacuate to an escape pod. Those trained in advanced aquatics are to don snorkeling equipment. Wait for the ship to finish its descent and the lights to go to green before opening the hatches. I don’t want to lose anybody to decompression stress.”

Immediately the soft white lighting of the ship’s interior became a harsh red color.

****

Everyone was strapped into a chair but still felt the shock of the ship hitting the water. Captain Dion turned a full rotation in her chair to check the six members of her bridge crew. “Is everyone okay? Good, let’s prepare to disembark.”

****

Bruin ensured all of his men were in snorkel gear and ready for evacuation. He felt a bit juvenile, being the only member of engineering who couldn’t swim. At least it allowed him to continue monitoring the computer screen without hindrance. He frowned as the console began to emit a strange, increasing whine. He caught the full blast of light generated on the computer screen by another sonic pulse. He collapsed on the floor with his eyes squeezed shut in pain. His team gathered around and removed their snorkel masks just as the ship’s lighting turned green.

Bruin tried to open his eyes but only perceived the general change in the interior lighting. “Has Andy gone green?” he gasped.

Gibbs, his second in command, responded. “Aye, Sir.”

Bruin groped for his arm. “Listen, Gibbs. You’ll have to leave me. I’m no good to you blind.”

“But Sir…”

“That’s an order, Gibbs. Don’t worry, I know Andy like the back of my hand. I’ll find an escape pod. Just help me to my feet and point me in the right direction. Captain Dion will find me. She might be genetically warped but there’s no sub-human I’d rather have looking for me.”

Gibbs helped him up. “This way, Sir. The rest of the men are on their way to the hatches.”

The ten men gave him a dubious look. Gibbs scowled at them. They nodded and left the room.

****

Manti waited in the water near the alien ship. As each escape pod launched itself one of his commandos took hold of it and guided it to the underwater station. The aliens in artificial swim gear were no match for the superior strength of his team but Manti worried about the consequences of appearing so aggressive. At least the aliens seemed to calm down when they saw the station. Perhaps they had a fear of drowning. Rumor had it that they couldn’t breathe in water.

The sudden tugging sensation in Manti’s rounded forehead wasn’t completely unexpected. The alien records had noted their chief engineer had an ‘affinity for animal life forms,’ their term for ‘congruence.’ It might enable some communication with the new arrivals.

The strength of the feeling was most compelling. Manti grabbed the pod without hesitation. He felt a stab of conscience about how confused the alien must be feeling. He knew the poor fellow would face even more troubling events before he would understand. He nearly released the capsule before two of his commandos swam up to reassure him. They had felt the compulsion as well.

****

Captain Dion was nearly two feet shorter than the blue creature standing in front of her. She had tried talking to it, but couldn’t decipher the clicks and whistles it responded with. She assumed it knew she was captain of the Andreas from downloading the computer files. Obviously they were trying to form a connection. The creature had offered its webbed hand as if it understood the meaning of a handshake. Dion had shaken it and offered a smile, something the creature also seemed to understand. It had reached over and felt her short, brown hair for just a moment. It was an understandable reaction for a creature with no hair at all.

The moment the creature didn’t seem to be watching her, Dion rubbed the inside of her right arm. The genetic markers couldn’t find an exact match with any of the DNA samples implanted in her. She repeated the motion on her other arm. A potential match popped up in her mind, but she’d need access to the Andreas computer to verify these aliens as a distant match to the dolphins back on Earth.

****

Next time; talking to the aliens.

Phyllis K Twombly
http://www.ScifiAliens.com

Dolphins’ World

A novella by Canadian Science Fiction Author

Phyllis K Twombly

Introduction

A webbed blue hand hovered over a backlit computer console. Big black eyes regarded the large computer screen with intelligent curiosity. Alien hieroglyphics surrounded the image of an unidentified ship entering the planet’s solar system.

A steady series of clicks and whistles came over the computer’s speakers. The blue creature understood them all.

“Relay outpost to Alpha Base Commander, we still cannot establish communications with the alien ship. However, we were able to copy and translate their computer files. It seems our visitors come from a system that supports some of our distant cousins. The species they call ‘dolphin’ was apparently unable to communicate with them. Our first evaluation is that they’re probably desperate to find a hospitable planet. Their fuel and food reserves seem to be unacceptably low.”

The first creature’s webbed hand tapped his rounded face. “Can you determine the extent of their weaponry?”

“What they have is inferior but still dangerous if they choose to activate their missiles.”

The base commander’s bottle shaped mouth gaped. “Missiles? They went into space with archaic weapons?”

The response was similar to a laugh. “We double checked to make sure we hadn’t made a mistake. Such simple beings… No wonder their own records contain incidents where our cousins rescued some of them. Apparently they can’t even breathe in water.”

The commander’s eyes blinked several times. “They can’t breathe in water? Then why does their trajectory indicate they’ll land in our ocean?”

“Perhaps they plan some kind of course correction. Or perhaps they don’t realize they’re heading for water.”

The commander began to sound perturbed. “It goes against all common sense and reason…”

“Sorry to interrupt, Commander, but I think we’ve detected a defect in their navigation. They direct their ships with visual recognition. They have no liquid sonar.”

The commander rolled his black eyes and sighed. “What a shame. I’d begun to think we were dealing with a highly evolved species.”

There was a pause before the clicks and whistles responded. “Perhaps they are. Perhaps they’re just…different. They have achieved space travel.”

The commander slowly moved his head and neck. “Then we should probably look after them until we can determine their intentions. It seems our cousins have set a precedent regarding these creatures. Even so, caution is advised. Continue to monitor their approach.”

“Aye, Sir.”

The commander pressed a green area on his control panel. The image on his view screen switched to show a creature like himself. It smiled back at him.

“Hello, Commander. What can I do for you?”

The commander’s gaze momentarily dropped to the floor. His voice softened. “Hello, Astra. We have guests arriving. They’re going to need an oxygen atmosphere.”

“That’s no problem.”

“They can’t breathe in water.”

“That might be a problem.”

“That’s why I called.”

Astra had begun pressing keys on her computer terminal. “I suppose, if we rotated a series of air pods through the core of your station, it could work. How long do these guests of yours plan on staying?”

The commander rolled his shoulders slightly. “I have no idea. They’ll splash down within a day or two.”

The skin above Astra’s eyes wrinkled ever so slightly. “If they can’t breathe in water why don’t they aim for land?”

The commander knew he should answer with the standard response of ‘top secret.’ Instead he drew a sharp breath that made his voice become deeper. “We suspect they may be a bit clumsy in their navigation. Besides, I’d rather be in a position to ensure the safety of our planet. If they’re running around on land our access to them will be limited.”

Astra turned and nodded to someone outside of the commander’s view. “That’s a wise precaution. I hope your guests don’t resent so much restriction.”

The commander winked at her. “They’ll barely notice.”

****

Look for chapter one next week.

Phyllis K Twombly
http://www.ScifiAliens.com
#mce_temp_url#

Creatively High Strung

It’s a bit of a stereotype but creative people are often high strung. Not all high strung people are necessarily creative, some are just nervous. I’m a fairly confident person, but don’t sneak up on me. At one point my staff developed the habit of warning me if they were about to hurry past my desk, which was quite thoughtful of them. I guess they got tired of seeing me jump.

Fortunately for me, staying calm is almost as natural as being high strung. It’s not hard to maintain a balance between the two—most of the time. Some people delight in pushing high strung people over the edge. That’s not a good idea. If you poke me in the ribs and startle me at the same time you may end up on the floor and it will be your own fault.

(A quick aside here-poking someone in the ribs is cruel, nasty, and proves you’re a bully. Ribs are somewhat fragile as those of us who have fractured a few are painfully aware.)

I don’t risk alcohol. Not only do I lack any desire for it, drinking would be counterproductive to staying in control. Besides, I’m quite fond of all of my brain cells. (I suspect my definition of ‘fun’ is somewhat different than most. My enjoyment comes from a depth of experience and/or entertainment. I love writing and tend to get completely lost in encyclopedias. Or thought. Sometimes being high strung helps me return to the real world.)

Being high strung tends to be hereditary. My tendency comes from both sides of the family, although I’ve always believed the maternal side had it under better control. Of course the family assures me that the higher strung, the more intelligent you are. How nice of them.  ;-)

Phyllis K Twombly
www.ScifiAliens.com

All the Fish Died: comedy vs humor

Comedian. Humorist. Although both are supposed to be entertaining they bring different expectations to mind.

The comedian is supposed to be funny all the time and cause laughter on a variety of subjects that may or may not include the vulgar or tragic. Comedy is outspoken, often loud, often irreverent.

Humor tends to be more laid back. It may be subtle, wry, or even sarcastic. Humor is often deemed to be more intellectual than comedy. Comedy clubs abound while humor suffers slings and arrows, etc.

It’s the braver (or more stupid) comedian who makes much of ‘gallows humor’ with jokes about tragedy or death. It’s comedy with a bit of shame attached…we know we shouldn’t laugh but can’t help ourselves. Humor may be dark but it’s often without shame.

Sometimes one encounters darker comedy by accident, such as the newspaper article in which the light of a fish tank ignited a fire; the fire broke the glass, the water put out the fire, and the article ended with the words, ‘all the fish died.’ I laughed. Then I felt bad. As a pet owner I know how close a person get to pets, even fish.

Perspective often draws the line between what one person laughs at and another doesn’t. In some cases an inablility to recognize humor may be a sign of mental illness. Then again, some people naturally have no sense of humor. I’ve encountered a few. To me it’s always a bit of a shock. In my family, if we don’t tease you we simply don’t love you. Unfortunately we also know just how and when to use humor as a weapon for those rare occasions that call for it.

Personally I prefer ‘harmless’ humor, but again the definition can vary. I was a fan of the old Canadian duo, Wayne & Shuster. You couldn’t pay me to watch a film that insults the United States. Yet many comedies I’d find acceptable do poke fun at some of our North American foibles.

Shared humor is a sign of affection. Humor that hurts or insults is just mean and may damage relationships. A comedian can get boo’d off the stage for crossing the line between funny and nasty. Fortunately most of those acts die long before the comedian ‘hits the big time,’ which spares the rest of us.

It takes a specialized personality to be able to say things other would be held in contempt for and have people laugh instead. It’s more than mere delivery. People are fairly good at quickly assessing the personalities they encounter. Human instinct allows us to quickly assume whether we’re going to like someone or not. Regardless of accuracy and past experience, most of us rely on this instinct more often than we might admit. The comedian who wants to be rich and famous would do well to assess his own personality if only to determine what kind of material he can ‘get away with.’

Comedians tend to be thought of as ‘live performers’ while humorists are often thought to be writers. Hence, ‘stand-up comedy,’ not ‘stand-up humorist.’ People tend to say they’ve ‘read’ a humorist, but watched a comedian.  We’re funny that way.

Thanks for reading.  :-)

Phyllis K Twombly
www.ScifiAliens.com

For the Love of Klingons!

Advanced technology has brought us another Burger King commercial for their collectible Star Trek glasses. Have they gone too far?

This time the ‘Kingons’ (Burger King’s own iconic character melded with Star Trek’s Klingons) come after the customer in his own living room. They immobilize his dog with some kind of beam before they take his collectible glass.

In a surprise twist the poor guy asks the Kingons “why don’t you take my girlfriend too?” The Kingons seem to think it’s a great idea but she objects…

Come on, a Trekkie wouldn’t date someone unfriendly to the franchise. A real Trekkie’s girlfriend would be one in her own right. She’d be thrilled to ‘beam’ anywhere, assuming the people using it have invented a pattern buffer. (The technology is currently unusable for lack of one. In Martian Divides I overcome the problem with the Martian symbiont on page 32.)

Perhaps the most important thing for animal loving Trekkies is that the dog is still unable to move at the end of the ad. Much of the commercial message is overwhelmed as the viewer’s engagement is shifted towards the poor pet.

Sorry, BK. This ad loses focus on that point and only gets…three cheeseburgers out of five.  ;-)

Thanks for reading.

Phyllis K Twombly
http://www.ScifiAliens.com

K’Plah, Cheeseburger!

Burger King came up with one clever commercial. They could have gone with the standard tie-in, ‘we sell collectibles for the latest scifi movie, supplies are limited, etc…’ Instead they chose to forever write themselves into the Star Trek mythology, if only in a small way.

Remaking their own icon into a ‘Kingon,’ sort of like a Klingon, ensures at least one particular segment of Star Trek fans will always think of their restaurant. To make an entire group of them including females, was just the start.

Your average customer supposedly needs to hurry because the ‘Kingons’ are after the collectibles. (Never mind that they might be eligible for a staff discount!) They want your collectible glass! There’s nothing to create desire like limiting supply and threatening availability.

But BK went one step further. They combined that with the fictional market demand, ie, the ‘Kingons’ will go to extremes to get one of these glasses, just like a Ferengi. The insinuation is that these collectibles must be protected once one has them. It’s not enough to just watch your burger anymore.  

I think it’s one of the most entertaining commercials I’ve seen in a long time. I give it four and a half stars out of five. K’Plah, Cheeseburger!

Thanks for reading.

Phyllis K Twombly
www.ScifiAliens.com

International Year of Astronomy (2009)

2009 is the International Year of Astronomy! 

Look up…waaaaaay up! This is the International Year of Astronomy. It’s great, because the universe ties into everything. And in an ironic interaction with things that move slower, Canada Post now has a set of  collectible stamps to commemorate it. Oddly enough, that’s how I discovered it. You’d think a scifi author would have been informed sooner, but nooooo… I blame the aliens.

It’s not too late to plan various activities. Personally, I’m going to keep (researching and) writing my fourth novel but here are a few ways you could celebrate the International Year of Astronomy:

Serious Events:

Buy a telescope and learn how to use it.

Visit a science center or planetarium.

Volunteer to help schools arrange a science fair. 

Fun Stuff:

Watch the new Star Trek movie.

Attend a science fiction convention or hold your own.

Read a scifi novel…

We still have most of this year to commemorate the International Year of Astronomy. Like the night sky itself, the possibilities are endless. Here on Earth, lets thank the many scientists who keep us looking skyward, and the myriad of organizations such as NASA who keep giving us a glimpse of what’s out there.

 Thanks for reading. 

Phyllis K Twombly
www.ScifiAliens.com

Why Some of Us Love Star Trek

It’s the same reason we look up at the night sky, something humanity has been doing for a very long time. Incidentally, 2009 is the International Year of Astronomy; but we know space travel probably won’t be widely available within this generation. Star Trek artificially brings it within our grasp an hour at a time—two if you’re watching a movie.

Star Trek goes beyond the idea of just being a road trip in space. There are forays into the progression of science, the proposition of various classes of planets, and the development of interpersonal relationships. While the characters of Star Trek explore the universe, the viewers explore possibilities. Morality and ethical questions abound. We are at turns encouraged, disappointed, and surprised along the way.

There are degrees of personal engagement with these fictional adventures. It’s a human tendency to ‘write ourselves’ into the stories we read and watch. I couldn’t figure out why someone I knew began acting different after my own novels started getting published, but that person may have imagined being one of my characters. It would be a stretch since I make every effort to create characters vastly different from people I know. Then again you can’t predict how people might see themselves.

People pretend to be someone else, often someone they admire, for a myriad of reasons. Unfortunately, my own face better lends itself to impressions of Einstein and Elvis than famous women. However, I think I’d make a half convincing Vulcan female. They seem to choose actors and actresses with more prominent facial features for Vulcan roles. Not that I have any expectations of being on a Star Trek show—can’t sing, can’t dance, can’t act. Instead of a triple Hollywood threat, I’m more of a triple hazard. I have the unique talent of being able to trip over a cord that’s halfway across the room, for example.

I’d probably rate as a lower ranking ‘Trekkie.’ I love the various series, look forward to each movie, and would attend a convention if the opportunity came up. However, a more committed Trekkie or ‘Trekker’ owns a uniform and sets aside other things to attend a convention. There are clubs devoted to various species of Star Trek aliens and devotees come from all walks of life, with various levels of commitment.

There are Star Trek sites online, from the official StarTrek.com to those set up by fans. (I’m not following the Twitter site because anyone who twitters non-stop fills up my homepage and prevents me from seeing other tweets.) For those of us who write, there’s fan fiction. Take the basic premise, some of the known characters, and create a whole new story. Look around in any library long enough and you’ll find a pantheon of author names with published Star Trek novels. Of course you must respect copyright and find the current publisher working with the franchise if you want to see your story in print. Imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery but ignoring copyright can get you sued.

As for the upcoming movie, some will love it, some will hate it, and non-Trekkies will wonder what all the fuss is about…until they read this.

Thanks for reading. 

Phyllis K Twombly
http://www.scifialiens.com/

A Side Story from Martian Divides

There are a few different ways to pull excerpts from a novel. One way is to make use of a subplot. The following tells a side story with one of my supporting characters. It begins on a camping trip, when a member of the underground has an attack of conscience and develops his own symbiont.

****

(These excerpts from Martian Divides are copyrighted (2009) by author Phyllis K Twombly; used by permission.)

****

Vince’s mind wandered off again. So it was true, they had perpetrated violence against someone who was completely innocent of anything except being different. He staggered to his feet as the hamburgers he’d eaten earlier came back to haunt him.

Skye stopped reminiscing and looked up. “You look sick.”

Malcolm grinned as Vince doubled over some nearby bushes. “Vince has such a weak stomach he passes out at the thought of blood.”

Skye nodded slowly. “So that’s why they told us not to bring him along.”

Malcolm nodded. “Yup. He would have fainted as soon as you pulled out the scalpel.”

Skye snorted. “Scalpel? You know I had to use a laser saw. It took a while to cut through those hideous things.”

Malcolm shivered in spite of himself. “Not a pleasant memory.”

Skye grinned and handed him a plastic bag. “It’s all in a day’s work. Here, toast another ‘mallow.”

Malcolm patted his swollen belly. It threatened to burst his waistband. “I guess I need one to improve my figure.”

Their banter was well within Vince’s hearing. He wondered how much of the blood on their hands had been passed on to him. He looked at his left palm. A small red swirl had begun to form. He suddenly felt much better. He closed his hand and hoped they wouldn’t notice. He stood up straight and cleared his throat. He tried to maintain the appearance of looking ill.

****

Once on the road, Vince sighed. “I’m really sorry to take you away from the party…”

Malcolm waved a chubby hand in the air, momentarily causing the van to drift. “Nah, don’t worry about it. Skye’s a great underground agent but she’s kind of abrasive for my taste. She considers herself to be someone who ‘cuts to the chase.’”

Vince winced. “Too bad she doesn’t see how mean she is.”

Malcolm turned a corner. “I’m used to it. Besides, with her temper someone else can be the one to tell her how others see her.”

“I don’t think it will be me.”

Malcolm chuckled. “You’re a smart man. How are you feeling?”

“A lot better. Thanks for taking me home.” Vince shivered. “I hate sleeping outdoors.”

“But Skye insisted you come, right?”

“She swore that it was imperative for anyone who had not gone Martian to attend.”

Malcolm laughed and then nearly gagged. “Give me a moment.” He engaged in a bout of throat and airway clearing before he spoke again. “Half the time she thinks I’ve ‘gone Martian’ because I keep seeing a doctor who has a symbiont. He’s a dwarf…”

“Don’t you mean a ‘little person?’”

“Whatever. Anyway, that little guy is the best regardless of the symbiont. He’s cured a number of my former associates…most of whom developed the symbiont shortly afterwards. It’s why I don’t let him cure my health problems. But he’s an entertaining guy and he keeps giving me access to human medication. His specialty is people without the symbiont.”

“Doctor Buddy Sloane?”

“Oh, you know him? I guess you probably would. There aren’t many doctors willing to take us seriously these days what with not having the symbiont.”

Vince rolled up his sleeve. “See my arm? It got sliced up at work but Dr. Buddy did such a good job there’s hardly any scarring.”

Malcolm glanced over. “I don’t see anything at all. Are you sure he didn’t use his symbiont on you?”

Vince realized he could no longer see the scars that had been on his arm since the accident. His mind raced as he clenched his left hand involuntarily. “I didn’t think so…do you suppose he could have done it without my knowledge?”

“Maybe. He’s a tricky little rascal. But I think he’s usually honest. You should just ask him.” A dark look came over Malcolm’s face. “Or maybe you’ve developed a symbiont.”

Panic squeezed Vince’s chest. “Me?” he squeaked. “How would I develop a symbiont?”

Malcolm rolled his eyes towards him. “I’m just kidding. You’ve got to learn to relax. Or the Martians might get you!” He released the wheel and menaced Vince with hands poised like claws.

All the color drained from Vince’s face. His eyes bulged out.

Malcolm slipped his hands back onto the wheel just as the van began to veer to the right. “Relax, Vince. I’m kidding. I thought you were going to pass out. You really are high strung.”

“Please don’t do that. I thought I was going to have a heart attack.”

****

“Mr. Stoker, it’s so nice to see you again. What can we do for you today?”

Vince held up his palm. Red swirls formed within seconds. “I think it’s time you and Doctor Buddy started calling me ‘Vince.’”

She gave him a big grin. “Then you should call me Fern. When did this happen?”

“Last night. I was at a secret meeting with other underground members. We were sitting around the campfire discussing awful things. It made me sick to hear it. After I threw up I noticed these swirls in my palm and then I began to feel a lot better…”

Buddy walked into the room. His curly brown hair was a darker shade than Vince remembered and his bright green eyes were now a brilliant shade of blue. The bottom of his white lab coat nearly dragged on the floor. “You’ve developed the symbiont. How do you feel about that?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I came to see you. How am I supposed to feel?”

Buddy shrugged. “The initial bit of euphoria takes a few months to wear off. After that how you feel is entirely up to you. But you seem troubled.”

“I guess I am. I don’t deserve one since I was against you guys for so long…”

Fern patted his shoulder. “Those of us with the symbiont are very forgiving. You wouldn’t have developed one of your own without a change of heart. What was it?”

“I guess it was when I realized how cruel the underground had been. I’d heard they’d cut off Lucille’s wings but I thought it was done with anesthetic…”

Buddy crossed his arms in front of him. “Lucille has a symbiont. It spits out most drugs. It’s almost impossible to sedate someone who isn’t cooperating if that individual has the symbiont.”

“That poor girl…”

‘And it was probably your empathy that allowed you to develop the symbiont.’

Vince looked down at Buddy. The words hadn’t been spoken, but they were as loud and clear in his mind as if they had been. “Telepathy?” he asked.

Buddy smiled. “I was just testing. We have to be sure your symbiont can communicate without drowning out your own thoughts.”

“Does that happen a lot?”

“No. It’s mostly a matter of learning control. It will be take you a while to learn how to use telepathy but generally the better a person you are, the more cooperative your symbiont will be.”

Fern guided Vince to a chair. “Now, what’s your real reason for coming here?”

“Oh, right. I’m worried about the underground finding out about this. I didn’t understand how dangerous having a symbiont might be until I realized the scars on my arm were gone. I went to show them to Malcolm and he only glanced at my arm. I don’t think he thought anything of it at the time but what if he figures it out? Will they try to kill me?”

Buddy rolled his eyes. “The underground isn’t usually dangerous…”

****

Skye watched the rolls of paper spin on their route to becoming currency. She eyed a counter top with completed bundles of bills. “Just how unimportant will cash become?”

Vince grinned as he thumbed a wad of bills with his large hands. “Thanks to Martianomics, it’s already this unimportant.” He tucked the wad inside his jacket and did the same to another few bundles. He handed her a few more. “Go ahead and stick them in your purse. I promise nothing will happen.”

Skye looked around. Security couldn’t possibly have missed the obvious crime but none of them responded with any concern. They were grinning.

She crossed her arms in front of her. “Won’t that put your totals out at the end of the day?”

Vince shrugged. “Those guys all have the symbiont. Money doesn’t matter to them. You see…” He glanced around and lowered his voice. “The symbiont doesn’t really care about cash. Consequently, Martians and humans with the symbiont don’t care that much either. The ‘new economy’ everyone keeps talking about doesn’t require exact accounting. Martianomics is based more on good will generated by the symbiont. It’s a way of ensuring that no-one starves and no-one goes bankrupt. In that sense the whole world has sort of ‘gone Martian.’”

Skye winced at hearing the term. “And they don’t know that you haven’t?”

Vince felt his symbiont squirm under the skin on his back, a sensation he equated to a symbiont form of laughter. He smiled. “So long as you’re not thinking hostile thoughts about them the Martians pretty much leave you alone.”

“Sure, with the exception of recreating world politics after their own pattern and making computers less accessible to people like us.”

Vince shrugged. “You have to admit the world has been a much safer place for humanity since they made themselves known a few decades ago.”

“If they’re so honorable, why did they hide for so long?”

Vince recoiled. He didn’t think he’d done anything to arouse suspicion. “Why ask me?” he stammered. “They’re the ones who kept their presence a secret.”

****

Vince seemed intrigued. “No symbiont interface? You mean, none of us has to ‘go Martian’ to access this data? We can just read the files in English?”

Malcolm cleared his throat. “‘Affirmative,’ as the computer would say. You sound like you might want a piece of the action, Vince.”

“You know I love technology. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this right away.”

Skye cocked an eyebrow. “We’ll send you something to work on.”

“That’s great! I have two weeks of free time coming up…”

Malcolm snorted. “Yeah, I guess they’re real slave drivers at the mint now that cash is more or less optional.”

Vince laughed. “It’s a brave new world my friends. We might as well take advantage of it. I’ll take everything the Martians are dumb enough to give me. That’s my definition of Martianomics.”

Skye clucked her tongue. “Who says the entrepreneurial spirit is dead?”

****

Vince knew he should be concerned. The blindfold over his eyes, the gag over his mouth, and the hushed voices of his kidnappers all pointed to alarming events in his near future. On the other hand the symbiont inside of him sent reassuring swirls throughout his bloodstream. Fear was little more than a memory, not something he felt at the moment. Instead of a panic attack he maintained a calm state of mind. It was almost pleasant until he remembered he was still a prisoner of the underground. More out of boredom and curiosity than panic, he strained to hear his captors’ conversation. He was amazed at how much better his hearing suddenly seemed. It was like turning up the volume on a radio.

Skye’s voice was the one he recognized. “…until we can find Malcolm…”

Oddly enough, Malcolm had a new connotation to it. Malcolm’s mind was within reach. Surprised, Vince realized Malcolm must have developed the symbiont too. He was still silently congratulating Malcolm when he felt Buddy’s telepathic touch.

Stay calm. We’re on our way.

Vince still wasn’t adept enough in using his symbiont to respond in kind. He could have answered verbally if only his voice had been available. He heard Fern’s thoughts next.

It’s okay. You don’t have to answer. We’ll still find you.

Vince wondered if there was anything he could do to help his rescuers. He felt he should keep on listening to the bits of conversation he could hear.

“…can’t believe Vince could destroy all the underground computers. I didn’t think he had that kind of technical expertise. He was just supposed to be a mint employee. Do you suppose the symbiont gave him all that knowledge?”

“Of course the symbiont gave him all the knowledge. He’s a clone!” Skye snapped.

Vince raised his eyebrows. It was the first he’d heard of it. The blindfold slipped almost enough for him to see.

“The real Vince Stoker must have been murdered and disposed of by Lucas just before this clone infiltrated the underground. This one must have been given all the data and experience downloads that would make him a convincing replacement. I just wonder how long he’s been reading our minds.”

“Do you think he’s reading our thoughts right now?”

Vince heard the sound of a seatbelt being unbuckled. He felt sudden terror as he braced himself for whatever might happen next.

The footsteps approaching him stopped. There was a pause before the puzzled voice he didn’t recognize spoke.

“Hey, where is he?”

Vince frowned. The blindfold slipped down enough for him to peer out over the top of it. The interior of the van was covered with faded brown suede. Cardboard boxes were piled up on the opposite side. A young dark haired fellow dressed in black was looking in all directions. He seemed to look right through Vince.

“He’s escaped! Stop the van!” the young man yelled. He rushed back to the passenger seat in the front and held onto it while the van squealed to a stop.

The boxes slid across the van’s green carpeting. One fell off a pile as Vince toppled over. He hoped the noise of his own fall would be masked by that of the box.

In the driver’s seat, Skye turned and glared at the interior of the van. “That’s impossible!” she snarled.

Her companion glared at her as she too failed to see Vince in the back. “Do you suppose they used their matter transfer device to remove him?”

Skye turned back to him. “Maybe; but it’s more likely he snuck out when you insisted we stop for burgers.”

“It was a Martian café. They make the best food.”

Skye rolled her eyes. “The human appetite will be its downfall. Look, if he did escape, we should go find him. He can’t have gotten far. You take that side of the road, and I’ll search the other.” She pulled the van onto the gravel shoulder of the road.

“Fine!”

Vince felt his muscles relax. He was still trying to figure things out when the back doors of the van opened. He wondered why he was no longer afraid.

Fern and Buddy reached in and pulled him onto the ground. Fern undid the gag and blindfold while Buddy sliced through the ropes around his arms and ankles.

****

The police van resumed its leisurely patrol. Vince breathed a sigh of relief as he got up off the floor and sat down in a bucket seat. “Thanks for the rescue, guys. But there’s one thing I don’t understand. How come they couldn’t see me? Right at the end it was as if I was invisible to them. Did you do that?”

Fern looked at Buddy as they found seats.

Red swirls filled the doctor’s face. “No. Martians are able to blend in with their surrounding when they’re frightened but this is the first time I’ve heard of a human being able to. Your symbiont might have advanced capabilities.”

****

The preceding passages have been slightly edited for length. Thanks for reading.

Phyllis K Twombly
www.ScifiAliens.com