Launch Day Set for The Sandfruit People

The Sandfruit People will be available in both print and ebook editions beginning April 16th, 2014. If you're American, you can look forward to reading it after you've done your taxes.

I'll post pre-order information as the date gets closer.

Catching Up on Sandfruit

Earlier this year I announced that my next book, The Sandfruit People, would be released on November 28. And then my mother disappeared and I stopped working on it.

I'm back at work on it now, but I doubt it will be ready in just two weeks. I do believe it will be ready before Christmas. I'll keep you informed.

Meanwhile, it's looking like this short story collection is turning into a novella. As I'm bringing out more and more detail and backstory, the various stories are becoming so connected that there's no definite break from one to the next. And since there's already an overall story arc to the collection, there doesn't seem to be any reason to fight the trend.

Here's an excerpt:

Together they walked to the pool and slipped in. The water, like the air, was warm and rich with plant life. Jett found her little sibling - the legless, genderless tadpole that would one day become a bipedal child like herself - and placed him gently in his transport case. Chegg picked up the case and they both climbed out of the pool and walked out of the tangle of carefully interwoven trees that made up their home, out into the sunshine where Chegg's car waited.

The baby didn't have to stay in the carrying case long. Chegg carefully transferred him to the tank in the back of the car and set the case on the floor in front of it.

Jett gave her little sibling a rub on his smooth, soft head, turned her nose up for one more touch from her father's knuckle and watched him go. He knew she didn't want to stay, but she was fourteen now and had school in the afternoons. 

Science Fiction Story Collection

My science fiction story collection now has a title...finally! Here's the cover, short a few tweaks. Planning to launch on Black Friday this year.

Worldbuilding: Dagooldabad of the Gogue

Here's a page I wrote to help me understand the setting for my science fiction story "The Mammal Cage":

The desert stretches for a thousand miles in every direction. Most of it is dry sand in shades of grey and black and green, interrupted only by outcroppings of the rock from which the winds have, over the millennia, created the sand. Some of the rocks are just the right size to fit in the hand, as if they had been made for throwing; some are big enough to be called mountains, and most are somewhere in between. Besides the rocks, two features dot the otherwise monotonous landscape of shifting sand: the oases that foster life and the volcanoes that take it away.

The oases aren't, for the most part, bountiful springs of water that make the land green with the lushness of luxuriant vegetation. They are modest underground aquifers, rather close to the surface, making possible the growth of cacti and scrub grasses that in turn support a modest number of animals.

The volcanoes, also, aren't like the great cinder cones found in other places. They are neither tall nor steep nor round, and never once, in all of recorded history, has even one erupted in that exploding-mountain way that volcanoes are known for.

And they never will, either, say the geologists, because they can't. Only magma rich in silica can build up pressure for huge explosions, because silica makes the magma thick and gloppy, trapping the volcanic gases and holding in the pressure, saving it up for sometimes hundreds of years until one day it reaches its limit, puts on a breathtaking show and causes horrible devastation. The magma under the Gogue desert, though, is made mostly of pyroxenite and olivine, very low in silica and therefore very liquid when melted. Gases escape easily through cracks in the overlying bedrock, and occasionally lava gushes out, too, and forms glowing red rivers which eventually cool into solid black and green rock.

Long ago, the experts say, the Gogue desert was the Gogue rainforest.

Dagooldabad is a place where an oasis and a volcano are uneasy neighbors, the volcano slowly stealing land from the oasis and turning its precious water into steam. 

The village is very old, a hundred centuries old, some archeologists say, while others disagree and said it is two hundred or even five hundred centuries old. What they all do seem to agree on is that, whatever era it was when it was first settled, it lay in a lush tropical environment, in a fertile valley, perhaps even on the banks of some ancient river. The vast hot desert that dictates so much of the villagers' lives in this millennium did not exist yet in that one, and the lake of boiling rock that bubbled and sputtered beyond the cliffs at the edge of the village in modern times still lay under miles of bedrock, although the bedrock may have already been beginning to crack.

According to one theory, there had already been small fissures in the bedrock, and the hot volcanic gases had escaped upward through these fissures, and the frequent jungle rains had trickled downward through these same fissures, and when they'd met they'd created steam, and it was this steam that had first attracted some of the area's semi-nomadic primitives to settle here.

In time, lava had followed the steam through the fissures and flowed down the valley, perhaps meeting the river and turning its water suddenly to vapor in a loud, popping, hissing collision. Eventually, the thin crust of rock on the surface was worn away too much to bear its own weight, and it collapsed and melted and became part of the lake of lava it had sheltered. Now, east and north of the village are great dark cliffs ,and beyond those cliffs lay a plain of rock, rippled and cracked, mostly black and sometimes red, sometimes dark and sometimes erupting with fountains of scarlet that lit up the night.

The village has an odd name, because of its age. Almost without exception, villages, towns and cities have names that sound like the names of people. From the faraway bustling metropolis of Zoke to the little city of Hiyat where most of the villagers work and shop and find their connection with the world, municipalities are called by simple one-syllable names, a vowel or two or at the most three, closed on both ends by consonants. But the village, named in ancient times by speakers of a long-forgotten language, is called Dagooldabad.

There have been movements, over the centuries, to bring Dagooldabad into the modern era by truncating its name. Dag was proposed once, and Bad about a decade later. The last Zirode from Hiyat, the one before the present one, had tried to force the name Gool on the village over the objections of its citizens. But he had lost and they had won, and the village had remained Dagooldabad.

Modern Dagooldabad had about two hundred residents, who by reason of being wedged between the unforgiving desert and the punishing volcano, tend to watch out for one another and be, perhaps, more united, more of a real village in the old sense, than most.

The Claw and the Eye

Earlier this year I decided to group eight of my science fiction short stories into a book, since they're all set in the same 'world' and all have at least one character in common, at least by reference. Included in The Claw and the Eye are:

• "The Mammal Cage"
• "Pleased to Beat You"
• "Shooting Pains"
• "Spy High"
• "Interrogatory Sentence"
• "The Enforcement Claws"
• "Encounter Intelligence"
• "Guilty Party"

Interrogatory Sentence

One of the science fiction stories from The Claw and the Eye:

The cafeteria was huge and crowded. There must have been thousands of Chuzekks there. Most were in uniform but some, both male and female, wore dresses or shirts and pants. Jade saw two or three pair of blue jeans. The guards took her to the door but didn't follow her inside. The food-dispensing pillars were easy to spot and she began to make her way through the crowd and over the uneven floor to the nearest one.

One of the uniformed Chuzekks grabbed her bicep. “Gashh,” he hissed, glaring at her tauntingly, and let go. Several times she felt hands stroking her head or claws playing with her curls, and she didn't object. She was, after all, apparently the only one there with hair.
When she got to the food dispenser, a uniformed soldier was just leaving it with his tray of food. When he saw her, he balanced his tray on one hand and grabbed his Personal Device. He spoke to it and the Device responded, “Do you know that it serves Earth food?”
His companion, who was female and also wore a uniform, spoke into her own Personal Device, and it said, “He's talking to you, Human.” The Chuzekks themselves always sounded congested when they spoke English, because they couldn't say their M's or their N's. But the Personal Devices had no impediment: they spoke with a perfect Cleveland accent.
“Thank you,” Jade answered politely, and both Personal Devices translated in unison.
“I'm Lidd and this is Vaikk,” said the female through her Personal Device, and extended her hand.
Jade shook it.
“That's not how you should greet,” Lidd responded, and Vaikk said, “We'll show you how to greet, at the table, if you will eat with us. Will you eat with us?”
“Thanks,” said Jade. “But how do I order food? Do I just talk to the thing?”
“Yes,” Vaikk answered, then said to the pillar, “Show me the earth food selection.”
The dispenser responded before the translation came. On the side of the pillar appeared a series of pictures of dishes, labeled in Chuzekk and in English.

“New England clam chowder!” Jade exclaimed, very surprised to see such a regional dish on the menu. The Chuzekks didn't really have a presence in New England, as far as she knew.
The chowder came out of an opening that looked something like a small oven. It was on a tray with coffee and juice, a set of ordinary silverware and an ordinary napkin. It smelled good.
There were no chairs around the table, only hard metal contraptions for kneeling in. She set her tray on the small orange table and knelt, ready for her knees to hurt. But the uniform-boots they'd made her wear were thickly padded in the front, and shaped just for this purpose, and she found the position very comfortable. She adjusted the back of the contraption and settled back on it.
“How to greet,” said Lidd through her Personal Device. She and Vaikk were both still standing, and after checking to be sure Jade was looking, each grasped the other's right upper arm with the right hand.

So that was why people kept feeling her right bicep: they were trying to shake hands. Jade stood and grasped Lidd's arm, and Lidd grasped hers.
She turned to Vaikk to do the same with him, but Lidd gently took Jade's wrist and said, “First, tell us your name.”
“Oh, sorry,” she said. “It's Jade.”
“Jade,” Lidd repeated. “You have a Chuzekk nickname, then.”
“No, that's really my name.”
“We're lucky then,” said Vaikk, kneeling. “Most human names are hard to say. Yours sounds just like a Chuzekk name.”
“When we greet,” said Lidd, “we are not silent. We say each other's names. Or if the person you are greeting outranks you, you should say his or her rank.”
“But only if you mean it,” said Vaikk. “Never say it if you don't mean it.”
Jade settled onto her knees and realized eating would be awkward since the table was so high. “I don't understand,” she said. “Only if I mean what?” The chowder tasted like it had come straight from a Boston diner.
“When you say a person's rank in this way,” Vaikk answered, “you recognize his or her authority over you.”
“So it's a gesture of respect,” said Jade, to confirm that she understood.
“It's more than that,” Lidd answered. “It's a promise to obey.”
“How do I know what rank someone is?”
“You can ask,” said Vaikk. “The most common rank is Chijj, and the insignia looks like this.” He pointed to his own chest. It bore the claw-and-eye symbol and another symbol that reminded Jade of a necklace. She looked at Lidd's uniform and it matched Vaikk's.
“So when I greet you two, I should say, 'Chijj'?”
“Yes.”
They had all been kneeling, eating, and Jade stood again and extended her hand to Lidd. Lidd stood and they practiced the greeting.

“Chijj,” said Jade, grasping Lidd’s right bicep, or at least as much of it as she could manage.
“Jade,” said Lidd returning the gesture.
Vaikk stood and they grasped arms.

“Chijj,” said Jade.
“Jade,” said Vaikk.
They knelt again.
“So where are we?” Jade asked. “I mean what is this? Is it a ship? Are we going somewhere?”
“We're going in circles,” answered Vaikk, between bites of something that looked remotely like a thick spaghetti sauce. “This is a Kivv-ship and we are in Earth orbit.”
Jade wasn't sure whether that was a joke or not. “What's a Kivv-ship?” she asked.
Neither Chuzekk responded to this immediately. The two consulted each other and their Personal Devices for a minute before Vaikk's said, “mothership.”
“Buthership,” Lidd repeated, then she continued through her Personal Device, “It's like a city in space. Everyone on this ship reports to the Kivv, so it's called a Kivv-ship.”
“How many people are there on this ship?” asked Jade.
“The actual number varies,” Vaikk answered, “because not all the Kivv's staff is on the ship. Sometimes our jobs take us to the surface, or to other ships. But a Kivv is responsible for 22,620.”
“Wow,” said Jade. “That’s a lot of people for one ship.”
“Maybe,” Lidd suggested, “you’re thinking of the smaller ships, the ships that travel.”
“This ship doesn’t travel?” Jade asked. She wanted to say, ‘then how did it get here? It couldn’t have been built here,’ but she didn’t want to sound disrespectful—not yet, at least. She needed to get her bearings first, and come up with a plan.
“Of course it travels,” Lidd replied, “but it doesn’t travel much. It’s like a city, not a vehicle. The Kivv takes it to the place it needs to be, and then it stays there until the mission is over.”
“Oh, that makes sense.” She was glad she’d kept her mouth shut: she would have sounded stupid, or worse. “The symbol on my uniform,” she said. “Sorry to change the subject, but I don't see anyone else with this. Lots of Chijjes, though.”
“It means that you're a prisoner,” said Lidd, still speaking Chuzekk and letting her Personal Device translate. “In Chuzekk, the word is 'prisoner.'” When she heard the translation, she slapped the device as though it were a naughty child. “Gashh,” she said, slowly and clearly, and her Personal Device said, slowly and clearly, “Pris-on-er.”
When she had said goodbye to Lidd and Vaikk and made her way out of the cafeteria, the guards met her at the door. She reached for Koll's bicep and Koll returned the gesture.
“Chijj,” she said solemnly.
Koll’s response was polite and easy. “Jade.”
She repeated the process with the other guard, and they all began to walk through the hallways with their strange floors, back to Jade's room. It wasn’t quite like they had installed extra features in the floor—features like mounds and dips, ramps and steps. It was more like the floor had never been flat, had never been intended to be flat. Walking in the Kivv-ship felt a little like walking on Earth, outdoors in a wild place. Jade would have expected to trip at least occasionally, but she didn’t. It must have helped that the floor’s color varied along with the terrain, so it was easy to see its contours.
“I have a question,” said Jade after a minute, “that I don't know if you can answer.” Koll said nothing but appeared to be listening, so Jade continued, gaining confidence, “Why am I here? Why was I captured? What's going to happen to me?”
Koll grabbed her Personal Device. “Repeat, please,” she said.
Jade said it again, and Koll's Personal Device translated.
“Three questions,” Koll said. “Why was you captured? I don't know. Probably somebody ordered. Usually Zidds do order the captures. Usually a prisoner knows--”
“What are Zidds?” Jade interrupted.
“Zidd is a rank.” Koll explained. “Zidds are few. You must give much respect to Zidd.” Then she continued, “Usually a prisoner knows the reason for the capture. Often, prisoners lie to say 'I don't know,' but only very few prisoners truly don't know why. I cannot know which is you. But if really you don't know, then probably is an error and you will go home soon.”
“I met a Chuzekk before the war,” suggested Jade nervously. “It could have something to do with that.” Koll stopped walking and looked intently at Jade. “Zukk Gevv?” she asked.
“He said his name was Zukk,” Jade answered apprehensively. “I think he was a Zidd.”
Koll said something in Chuzekk to the other guard, and he reacted with obvious interest. He took out his Personal Device and set it to translate.
“I just tell him that you is the human who sees Zukk Gevv on Earth. Everybody knows the story. Nobody knows is you. But I don't know if this why you was captured.”
“I'm concerned,” said Jade, even though 'petrified' would have been a more accurate word, “that they may think I have some kind of secret. But I'm not in the military. I don't know anything, except what I see on TV.”
“I think you should not worry,” Koll reassured her. “Zukk's pod failed because...” She consulted her Personal Device for the correct word. “...fabrication error. He fixed the pod because he is very smart. He used resources he had. He had you. He used you. This not makes you look like a spy, see? If you really don't know why you is here, probably is an error and you go home soon.”
“Thanks,” said Jade, relieved.
“Thanks for what?”
“I feel much better now.”
“I say what I think only.”
“Well, thanks for saying what you think, then.”
They walked the rest of the way in silence, and when they got to the painted shape that was Jade's door, Koll grabbed her Personal Device and said, “I will report that you is here now.” She held it to her face like a human with a cellphone, and had a conversation in Chuzekk. Jade thought she looked surprised.

She put the Device back on her hip and looked at Jade intently. A sly, sneering smile spread over her face. “You did lie, Jade Massilon,” she stated, her voice a mix of amusement and triumph.
“About what?” Jade asked, confused.
“Chegg Jeigg did order you captured.”
“Who's that?”
“Chegg Jeigg is our Kivv. He is commander. Very big. He was very expert interrogator. Still now, very expert interrogator.”
“The CO of this ship ordered me captured?”
“C-O” Koll said to her Personal Device. The translation was long, and she shut it off. Then she looked back at Jade and demanded, “What is CO?”
“Commanding Officer. The highest-ranking officer, basically.”
“Yes,” Koll answered simply, then repeated, “You did lie.”
Jade’s heart was pounding. “Lied about what?” she asked.
“You did say you not know why you is here.”
“I don’t.”
Koll’s smile freshened. Her face said, “You don’t fool me.”
Jade switched tactics. “So what happens now?” she asked.
Koll just looked at her. The other soldier shifted impatiently and looked at Jade’s door.
“What will happen?” Jade corrected. “The Kid gave the order for me to be captured; you think I’m—“
“Kivv,” Koll interrupted.
“Kivv, sorry. The Kivv gave the order to capture me, you think I’m lying. What happens next?”
“Next, you sleep,” the soldier answered, “and tomorrow you go to Kivv for he interrogate you.”
Jade couldn’t help feeling that she had just been handed a horrific sentence without being allowed a trial, without even being allowed to know what the charges were. “The Kivv…is going to be my interrogator?” she asked weakly. She swallowed hard, trying to calm her stomach.
“Yes.” Koll wore a broad, sneering, cold grin that spoke of victory. Jade looked at the other soldier and he wore it, too.
“Why?” said Jade. It was almost a whisper.
“Because you is big spy.”

Spy High

Another science fiction story from The Claw and the Eye:

Becky kissed Jade on the cheek. “Wade was a little terror today. Wouldn't listen, wouldn't--” She stopped speaking, looked up and glanced around. “I thought I saw something.” They were standing in Becky’s yard, between their cars on the gravel space that couldn’t quite be called a driveway, that locals call a dooryard.

“We're all on edge now, I think,” Jade answered. She really didn’t have time for this. She was here to drop off a birthday present, and then she had to get home. It was getting late, and she still hadn’t even started working yet. “It was probably—“she started, then stopped and pointed to the overcast sky--“there!” For an instant, she had seen it too, then it was gone again.
“Shh.” said Becky, searching the dull greyness overhead.
“All I hear is the wind,” whispered Jade, glancing around vaguely, “and the brook.”
“Right,” Becky whispered back. “We don't have a brook.”
The sound grew steadily louder. It was like the rustling swish of a storm-breeze on a summer afternoon, the buzzing hum of a bumblebee, and the babbling laughter of a shallow, rocky brook.
“Chuzekks!” Jade yelled, even though Becky was right next to her, and both women started running across the wet lawn toward the house. That babbling hum was the engine-sound of a small Chuzekk spy-ship or landing module.
But running was futile. The alien craft burst through the clouds and settled onto the lawn between them and the house. They stood on the wet grass and watched it land, along with two others that touched down in the dooryard beyond the cars. Together the three ships formed a triangle with Jade and Becky inside it. They walked back in the direction they had come, stood back-to-back in the center of the triangle, and waited.
All three of the little spaceships opened, and the two women were soon surrounded by Chuzekk soldiers: scaly-skinned, bigger than humans and hideously fierce-looking.

One of the soldiers approached them. He looked at Jade. “Jade Massilon?” It sounded like “Jade Bassilod?”
She wanted to say no, she wasn't Jade Bassilod. She didn't know any Jade Bassilod. But if she said that, maybe these cold-blooded brutes would turn this whole area into one big crater, just like they had the Pentagon in the first minutes of the war-and all those deaths would be her fault. “Yes,” she said. Or at least she tried to, but her voice wouldn't work.
The soldier got the message. He took her arm in one clawed hand and with the other pointed to one of the ships. “You will enter that pod,” he said. She walked in without resisting. Another soldier followed them inside, carrying Jade's purse. He must have grabbed it from her car. She tried to catch a glimpse of Becky's face, but by the time she was allowed to turn around, the door was closed.
She thought of the time she’d been in Zukk’s vehicle, just like this one. Then, he had practically dragged her out of it, and she would have given almost anything to get back inside. But that was before the war. Now, she'd give anything to get out.
“You will kneel here,” said the soldier who had Jade's arm.

Jade didn't see any place to kneel, but still the soldier propelled her forward. In front of her seemed to be nothing but a sort of sculpture made of tangled, shiny pipes. Had Zukk’s vehicle had something like that? She couldn’t remember. The soldier kept pushing her until her thighs touched the sculpture. Then he adjusted the pipes so they touched her shins instead, just below the knees. There were pads on the pipes where they touched her, and the soldier pushed her a little more so that her knees bent and half her weight was on the pads. Then he secured another set of pipes around her torso and she was locked in. There were vertical pipes on both sides of her, attached to the floor and ceiling, supporting all the other pipes. Otherwise, she had a good view of half the interior of the craft. And her arms were free-though she couldn't reach anything but the vertical pipes.
The second soldier started typing with his claws on a gray metal support-post, and the walls began to light up with readouts. A short text readout appeared near the ceiling. She had seen one like that the last time.
“What does that say?” she asked, pointing.
“26-pod optimal status,” answered the soldier who was typing. Last time, the translation had been,
“26-pod propulsion failure.”
“26-pod,” Jade repeated. “Is that what kind of ship this is?”
“Yes. Any small, ultra-maneuverable, surface-capable spacecraft is called a pod. Or our word translates into English as 'pod'. It was originally used only for the protective shell of certain seeds.
This pod is version 26. 25 is still used, but I don't think that any 24's are still used.”
“Probably not,” agreed the soldier who had locked her in the sculpture-cage. He was studying one of the readouts, which showed a line drawing of a body with many colored lines and symbols superimposed on it. Jade shifted her weight to her right knee, just for a change, and some of the lines changed color. Curious, she leaned on her left knee and they changed again. She stayed on her left knee for ten seconds and the readout stayed basically the same, but when she put her weight back on both knees evenly, it changed again. Meanwhile, the soldier kept looking at the readout, then at Jade, then back at the readout again.

He had a short conversation with his colleague in their language, the second soldier typed something on the post again, and Jade felt the pod lift off.

“Where are you taking me to?” she asked.
“We don't know,” the first soldier answered.
“You don't know where this pod is going?” If there was one thing that got under Jade's skin, it was being lied to. But she really should have kept her mouth shut. She wasn't exactly in a position to be mouthy.
But her alien captors didn't seem to mind. Instead, they both laughed, and Jade jumped in her restraints. She had never thought of Chuzekks as capable of laughter.
“I know where this pod is going,” said the second soldier, still smiling. “I'm the pilot.”
“We are taking you to a larger ship,” the first one explained. “We do not know your destination after that.”
Or more likely, they didn't want Jade to know her destination after that. But there was no point in pursuing the subject with them: they were trained soldiers and she wasn't going to get anything out of them that they didn't want to tell her.
So she'd been captured by the Chuzekks. Why? It wasn't that she had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, as they say. The Chuzekks had actually sent quite a lot of pods and soldiers, specifically for her, Jade Massilon. But why? It must have had something to do with Zukk. She hadn't been intended even to know he was there. “Our meeting was due to an error,” he had said. And now, they probably thought she possessed some sort of secret. Well, she didn't.
But how could she convince them that she didn't? She felt herself start to panic and pushed the thought away, forcing herself to concentrate on the Chuzekk script overhead. “26-pod status optimal,” was the translation they had given her. Or was it “optimal status”? Her eyes lost their focus on the readout. Her head began to swim and her stomach churned. Her face and ears felt hot. Or was it cold?
Suddenly the first soldier turned from his readout and gave her a backhand slap on the cheekbone.
She gasped.
“Breathe,” he ordered.
By the time the pod had landed and she was released from her restraints, Jade was stiff and found it hard to walk. While the first soldier--the one who had slapped her--helped her out of the pod, the second one stroked the top of her head with his hand. He seemed to be petting her, as though she were a dog.
The pod was sitting in a very large, windowless room along with about a dozen other pods and one bigger craft.

Another soldier approached, a female. Jade had seen female Chuzekks on television ever since they had taken over the satellites, but this was the first time she'd met one. Most of them were smaller than the males, and this one was no exception, but still she was six feet of sculpted muscle. She grabbed Jade's right bicep, as though testing its strength. “I am Koll,” she said. “I will take you to your room.”

“Jade Massilon,” answered Jade. “But I guess you already knew that. Can I contact my family now? I need to let them know I'm alright.”
“No,” answered Koll. “Orders. No contact to Earth, no contact from Earth.”
“Is there any way I can appeal that?”
“Perhaps, but not today.”
Koll exchanged a few words with the two other soldiers, in their own language. Then she took Jade's arm in what now seemed to be the standard prisoner-escort method, and pointed her between two rows of pods to an opening in the far end of the huge room.
They came to a shallow ramp, and Jade stumbled.
“You is stiff because of the garoshh,” said Koll, steadying her. “I will help you.”
“Garoshh?”
“The rig placed around your ribcage to immobilize you.”
“I just learned a new Chuzekk word,” said Jade wryly. “Garoshh.” The ramp had been going up, and now it started going down again. Looking ahead, Jade realized the floor was full of ramps and steps, rises and hollows.
Koll laughed. “That is bad first word. Try 'shass'. It is the sea.”
“The sea?” said Jade. “The ocean? Or see with the eyes?”
“I don't know 'ocean',” Koll answered. She quickly pulled a small object from her left hip and spoke into it. “Oshad,” she said to it, because she couldn't say 'ocean', and the object replied, “Shass.” Then she said, “Sea,” and this time the object gave a long reply. Jade theorized that it was giving the definitions of the words 'sea' and 'see', and maybe also the letter 'C'.
“That's a nice dictionary you've got there,” said Jade, hoping to continue the friendly tone as long as possible.
“Yes,” the soldier agreed, putting the object back on her hip. “But perhaps we rely them too much. Is called a Personal Device.” Now that her left hand was free, she reached for Jade's hair. “You will get Personal Device, too,” she continued as she ran her claws through the ends of the pumpkin-colored curls. “But yours does less than ours, for security.”
Jade's stiffness soon wore off, and she walked with Koll through corridor after corridor, stepping up and down on the uneven floor. Sometimes they passed other soldiers. Finally Koll stopped where another soldier waited near an open door. “This is your room,” she said.
Jade had been expecting a cell, and hoping for a cot or at least a shelf for sleeping, and a toilet. What she saw was a spacious room furnished with many large and small items. Some of them she could identify: pillows, a couple of high counters or low walls, an American-brand coffeemaker, a pool of water. Most of them, she could not. The floor, of course, was on many different levels. A soldier waited behind one of the counters.
“You may come in,” said the soldier. Actually, what she said was, “You bay cub id,” and for half a second Jade heard it as “You make a bid.”
Jade entered and someone closed the door behind her. She was alone with the new soldier, whose head-ridges were blue. Jade wondered whether she belonged to a blue-ridged ethnic group or whether she had painted them. Whatever their source, the blue ridges matched what appeared to be eye shadow, and the effect was striking. Chuzekks, in Jade's opinion, were ugly, but this one was somehow beautiful.
The blue-ridged soldier came out from behind the counter. “Since you are perhaps not familiar with our accommodations, I will tell you what is here and teach you how to use things. I am late.” She extended her hand. Her claws were blue, too.
“If you're late,” said Jade, shaking her hand, “we can skip the tour. I'm sure I'll figure things out.”
The soldier laughed. “I have time. Leitt is by dabe,” she said. Leitt is my name. She stroked Jade's head. “Here is your bed,” she said, indicating a flat disk about three feet high and ten feet in diameter. “Here is the temperature control for the bed. Or you can use a voice command. It understands English.”
“The bed is heated?” Jade asked, and regretted it.
“Yes. Here is the pool. Here is the temperature control for the pool.”
Jade didn't comment on the heated pool. “When can I call my family?” she asked instead.
“I don't know. I recommend you ask your interrogator.”
“My interrogator?”
“Yes.”
“Who's my interrogator?”
“I don't know.”
“But you know that I have one?”
“No. Rarely prisoners are captured by error and returned without interrogation. But that is rare.”
“How do I find out who my interrogator is, then?”
“Perhaps you will not discover who it is before your interrogation starts. If I discover, I will tell you, if I am allowed.”
“Thank you,” Jade replied hollowly.
“Here is your desk,” Leitt continued, gesturing toward the counter she had been sitting behind when Jade first saw her.
It didn't look like a desk. And it had some strange-looking metal devices on one side. Jade didn’t like them: they looked vaguely similar to that horrible prisoner-restraint in the pod, the garoshh.
“How do you use the desk?” Jade asked.
In one quick, graceful movement, Leitt knelt in one of the metal devices, facing the counter. She looked like a patron sitting at a bar. Then she stood again. “I put my knees here,” she said, touching a spot on the device, “and here. You can adjust it to the desired height, like this. If I will stay in this station long I will place this piece behind me for support when I lean back.”
Jade tried it. The metal wasn't padded, and it hurt her knees. She stood and glanced around the room. “I don't see any chairs,” she said.
“There is one,” said Leitt, putting her emphasis on the word ‘is’ as though only one chair was to be expected. She led Jade to a spot near the corner of the big room where there was a shape painted in red on the white wall. Leitt pushed on the painted shape with her hand, and it swung open on hidden hinges. They entered a smaller room, Leitt opened another painted-shape door and they crowded into an even smaller room. In one corner was a triangular sink with an overhanging lip that Jade assumed must contain the faucet. A package of 12 rolls of toilet paper sat unopened on a shelf. Jade recognized the brand. The only other item in the room was a round thing that looked like a cross between a toilet and a wide-mouthed jar. It stood only about a foot high.
“The toilet,” said Jade, “is the only chair?”
Leitt hesitated. “Our translator is not perfect. What is the difference between 'toilet' and 'chair'?”
“This is a toilet,” Jade answered, “and a chair is something you sit in.”
“Something I shit in,” Leitt said. “I know only one thing. Do you require something else as well?”
“No, that's okay. I can sit on the bed.”
“No,” Leitt answered with authority. “That is not acceptable.”
“Sitting on the bed is not acceptable?”
“Yes, it is not. Describe what you need and I will get it. But you must not shit on the bed.”
Jade decided not to try to explain the difference between 'shit' and 'sit'. There were more important things that needed explanation. She tried to keep a straight face. “I'll just use the toilet,” she said with difficulty. “I don't need anything else.”
“Be sure that you do not,” Leitt replied sternly, then continued in a lighter tone, “I will show you the shower. It has been altered so that you can breathe. I will show you how to use the alteration.”
“So that I can breathe?”
“Yes.” By this time, they had left the little toilet room and entered the shower room. The shower was recognizable, though not familiar. It had a pocket-door and what looked like water jets in the door, walls, floor and ceiling. “The water sources have been disabled in this corner,” Leitt explained. “When you breathe, your face should be in this corner. Otherwise, you should--” She paused and spoke to her Personal Device in her own language and the rest of the sentence came from the Device in a perky American accent: “to hold one's breath.” She put it away and said, “Do you require more information about the shower?”
“I'm just curious about the alterations, I guess. Is it a height thing? Maybe I'm not tall enough to use a shower without alterations?”
“No,” Leitt answered. “Without alterations, there is no air that is not mixed with water. As a mammal, you would drown.”
“You're not mammals?”
“Yes, we are amphibians. When we shower, we breathe the spray. It feels refreshing. If you have no more questions, then I will leave for a short time, then return.”
“Oh sure. I think I'll try out the shower.”
“Yes. Give a shower. That is incorrect. Take a shower.”
“Take a shower, yes. I'm going to take a shower.”
When she stepped out after showering, her clothes were gone, replaced by what appeared to be a folded outfit of slate gray. As much as she hadn't been looking forward to putting her dirty clothes back on, she felt a disproportionate sense of loss, bordering on anger. Her clothes were all she'd had from home besides her body and her thoughts, and now even they were gone. She took a deep breath and told herself to be reasonable. Probably they were just out for washing, and she would be back inside them soon.
She picked up the gray clothing and found that it was all one piece. A pair of tall boots stood on the floor, and leaning against the wall was one of those things Zukk had called armor. She didn't see any undergarments anywhere.

It took her a while to figure out the alien garment, but she got it on eventually. The boots were easier, and strangely comfortable. The armor was too confusing, and superfluous anyway, so she left it in the corner.
She heard footsteps, and Leitt came in without knocking. “I was delayed,” she said. “I will show you how to wear the faltupp.” She picked up the armor and handed it to Jade.
“So this is called 'faltupp',” said Jade.
“Yes. Hold it here, and put your head here...fasten this...pull this.”
Now Jade was dressed in a Chuzekk soldier's uniform, complete with catsuit or jumpsuit, knee-high boots and the faltupp: a stiff protective piece worn in front like a baseball catcher's gear. Besides size, the only difference between her outfit and Leitt's was the markings on the faltupp. Zukk had said they indicated “rank and command”. Embossed on her own faltupp was a sort of rounded rectangle. Leitt's had two concentric circles. Zukk's had been more intricate, bearing a pattern made of many circles. Both Leitt's and Jade's bore identical symbols that Jade didn't like the look of: a claw or talon appeared to be in the act of putting out an eye. But the markings were not important right now. “What am I doing here, anyway?” Jade asked Leitt.
“Dressing.”
“No, I mean why am I here? Why was I captured?”
“I don't know. Were you captured with others, or was only you captured?”
“Only me, I think. I was at my aunt's house. A lot of pods landed. They had us surrounded.”
“I think someone ordered your capture. But I don't know who or why,” said Leitt. “You should eat. The door guards will take you to the cafeteria. You can order food from the round pillars. They understand English. My workday is ending. I will go home now and return tomorrow. My husband's workday is ending also.” She smiled confidentially. “He is an interrogator.” She watched Jade's face for a reaction, and when she saw none, she explained, “Interrogators are the best lovers.”
Jade said nothing. A lover who made a living torturing people wasn't Jade's cup of tea. She wondered if Leitt's husband would be her own interrogator. She wondered if she would survive the interrogation or if he would realize too late that she had no information that could be useful to the Chuzekk side.

The Enforcement Claws

Another science fiction story, one of the eight short stories in The Claw and the Eye:

The Keev's office was at the end of a high, broad hallway. The door was square, about ten feet by ten feet, made of some kind of metal and inlaid with stones and a horizontal line of tiles bearing Chuzekk characters. Above it, in gleaming gold, was a giant emblem on Jade's own POW uniform, depicting a long claw or talon in the act of piercing an open eye.

Jade had been brought there by two low-ranking Chuzekk soldiers, or Cheejes. One of them pushed open the huge door and the other walked through the open doorway, still holding Jade by the arm, and stopped as soon as they were past the end of the door.

Standing about 15 feet in front of them was a male Chuzekk that Jade took to be the Keev, since his rank insignia was one she hadn't seen before. He walked slowly toward her, looking at her intently with piercing green eyes. He smiled a sneering, almost hungry smile, and didn't stop walking until he was only about a foot in front of her. He nodded to the Cheej, who let go of Jade's arm.

Jade had to tilt her head back and look up to see his face. She almost didn't dare move, but she didn't dare not to. She forced herself to reach for his right upper-arm as she had been taught and say, “Keev.” To her surprise, her voice worked this time, though it did sound shaky.

He grasped her arm and said, “Jade.” Then he released his grip and said something to the Cheej in Chuzekk. The Cheej turned and left, closing the door behind her. Jade was left alone with the Keev, who continued to stand and look at her intently.

Afraid of appearing defiant, Jade lowered her gaze, but he lifted her chin with his leathery left hand until she was looking at his face again.

His reptilian-looking skin was browner and less gray than the average Chuzekk's Jade had seen so far, and his face was wider. From straight on, his head ridges looked like points - almost like a crown. A hairless unibrow that vaguely resembled crocodile-skin extended to both sides of his head.
The same crocodile effect occurred across his flared nostrils, and in two lines that extended from his cheeks to his throat and jutted out half an inch or so from his chin.

Finally, he stepped back and slowly walked in a circle around her, still staring at her in that piercing almost-hungry way.

“I am Keev...Chegg...Jaig,” he said when he had completed his circle, speaking slowly and enunciating the names with extreme clarity. “Keev is my rank. It means that I support more than 22,000 people. Chegg is my personal name. Jaig is my family name.”

There was a desk in the room, much like the desk in Jade's own room, and the Keev walked around it and stood on the other side. “You will kneel in this station,” he said.

Jade complied. There were half a dozen kneeling-chairs, or stations, at that desk, and the Keev had indicated the second one from the left-hand end. Jade was now facing a large blank white wall to the left of the door. To the right of the desk, and nearest the door, was a counter holding a coffeemaker, half a dozen mugs and some other things.

The Keev stood to her right and placed a small round object on her cheek. It must have had an adhesive backing, because it stuck there. Then he took out his Personal Device, opened it and typed. He set it on the desk and tapped it one more time with his claw, and a projection appeared on the wall in front of her: an outline of a body with colored lines and symbols. There was a series of lines to the left of the body-outline as well, vaguely resembling a bar graph.

“You did not sleep last night,” he observed, “nor eat today.” He walked to the coffee counter. “Do you want coffee?” he asked her.

Last night, she had made up her mind not to answer any questions in this office, no matter how trivial. She stared straight ahead and said nothing.

He poured two cups of coffee. “Sugar?” he asked.

Again she said nothing. Data in the projection flickered and changed.

“More sugar?” he asked, seeming not to notice her silence.

She looked at him and saw that he wasn't even looking at her. He seemed to be looking at the data on the wall. He turned and put sugar in one of the mugs. “More sugar?” he asked again, looking at the wall. Some of the bars in the graph seemed to move in response, and he put in another spoonful. “More sugar?” He put the sugar down. “Cream?” he said. The bars responded again and he poured cream into her mug. “More cream?” Apparently the wall said no, because he put the cream away.

He came back to the desk with both mugs of coffee and set hers in front of her. There was nothing alien about these solid-color ceramic mugs. She figured the Chuzekks must have gotten them from Earth. She picked up the maroon mug and sipped, and couldn't help noticing that the coffee tasted just like she had prepared it herself. The Keev's own coffee was black, and his mug a sort of dusty blue. She wondered if any of this information was significant, and tried to observe and put to memory as many details as possible. But she should focus on the room, too, not just the coffee and the mugs.

“Chuzekks discovered coffee just recently, when we came to Earth,” the Keev observed. “But already many like it. I also like it.”

He typed on his Personal Device and the body-outline and bar graph moved to the left, leaving a large area of blank wall between them and the door. Then a picture seemed to slide out from under the body-outline until it occupied the majority of the blank space. It was a face-shot of a man, and it looked like the kind of photo you'd find on an ID. It stayed there for a second or two, then seemed to slide off to the right and disappear. Another picture slid in from the left, stayed for a moment, then disappeared to the right. The process kept repeating, until Jade began to wonder if the Keev was trying to hypnotize her.

Then she saw something that made her jump: staring back at her from the wall was the face of her neighbor, Bill. This time the photo didn't slide off to the right. It minimized into the lower-left corner of the photo area before disappearing. The next photo was of Bill's wife, and it, too, disappeared into the corner and not to the right side.

Very uncomfortable with this development, Jade stood up.

Silently, the Keev stopped the flow of pictures with one clawstroke, put a big hand on her back and firmly pushed her into the station, so that her weight shifted onto her knees and forearms. Then he placed his hands on the desk, one on either side of her, leaned close and spoke quietly into her right ear, emphasizing the first two words with a chilling severity, “Do...not...remove your knees from this station without my permission.” Then he stood to his full height and Jade straightened her back, kneeling solidly in the station. The Keev started the pictures again, knelt in the station beside her and sipped his coffee.

She saw a lot of faces she recognized, and a lot she didn't. Most of the ones she recognized minimized into the corner: most of the ones she didn't slid off to the right side. Clearly the Personal Device, or some other computer, was sorting the pictures based on Jade's autonomous responses. But sorting for what purpose? Was she unwillingly betraying her friends and neighbors? She put her head down on the counter so she wouldn't see the pictures.

Still without speaking, the Keev put down his mug, stood behind her and picked her head up with both his hands.

She closed her eyes, but he opened them with his fingers and held them open. His claws didn't scratch her, but she could feel them against her eyelids, her cheeks and the back of her head, and they felt sharp.

After a few seconds he let go and returned to his station. Her eyes burned and she blinked hard, but she was careful not to leave them closed.

The pictures continued sorting themselves. Clearly, refusing to answer questions was useless since somehow the computer could read her responses whether she spoke them or not. Refusing to look at the projection was useless since she was forced to see it whether she looked or not. There no longer seemed to be anything to lose by talking.

“Keev,” she said, “is it okay if I say something?”

“Yes.” He stopped the pictures.

“There must be some mistake. I'm not in the military. I don't know any military secrets.”

“What is the mistake?” he asked her.

“Well, here I am, I've been captured, I'm about to be interrogated, but I don't have any information I could possibly imagine would be useful to you.”

“Then we will find that out.”

The cold, ominous sound of his response started her heart pounding.

“A sudden increase in fear, I believe,” he observed like a scientist analyzing a test. “Why?”

Jade paused to compose her reply. Stating the obvious without sounding disrespectful was always a challenge. “I think fear is normal for any human waiting to be tortured.”

He scoffed. “We do not torture,” he spat. “It's ineffective.”

He started the pictures again, and she watched them sort themselves.

“Keev,” she said a few minutes later, “Is it okay if I ask questions?”

He stopped the pictures. “You should say, 'Chegg' not 'Keev'. Chegg is my name, Keev is my rank. You should not address us by rank, as you will dilute the significance of the statement of submission if you use our ranks also to ask for attention.”

Jade didn't understand, and he seemed to realize that.

“When we met today,” he said with the patient tone of a teacher, “you called me 'Keev'. Why?”

“I was told that when someone outranks you, you should say their rank and not their name,” Jade answered, hoping she wasn't getting anyone in trouble.

“You were told correctly. Do you know why you should say the rank and not the name?”

“They said it's a promise to obey.”

“Yes, it's a statement of submission, a recognition of my authority over you. You should not use it simply to address me. If you want my attention, you should use my name. Yes, you may ask questions.”

“Chegg, then. Why was I captured?”

He put his left hand on her back. It wasn't a sexual touch, but it did seem inappropriately familiar. With his right hand he typed something into his Personal Device, and the image of a US military document showed on the wall.

“Can you please not touch me?” she asked.

“Request denied,” he answered. “Do not ask again.” He remained standing, touching her back. “Do you recognize this document?”

Jade didn't recognize it, but she didn't bother answering verbally. She saw that the document bore her name, and read to learn more.

“You took a test for the American Army,” said Chegg, “called DLAB - Defense Language Aptitude Battery. This is your score.”

Jade's heart pounded and the body-outline and bar graph showed the rapid change. “Yes, I did,” she admitted, “but I didn't really go. I mean, I enlisted, but I never went to Basic.”

“You were discharged before training because a doctor misdiagnosed you with arthritis. My concern is your score.”

Jade smiled, part relieved, part proud, part embarrassed, part apprehensive, and the bar graph changed. She could still remember the look on that sergeant's face when she had brought back the message that, yes, this really was her DLAB score - the proctor hadn't accidentally given her some other slip of paper. “He made a mistake,” the sergeant had said. “That's not a DLAB score. Go back and ask him for your score again.” And when she had gone back to the proctor, he had said, “I've never seen a score that high, either, but that's your score.”

“With the proper training,” said Chegg, “you could probably crack Chuzekk code. I ordered your capture as a preventive measure, but of course we want to know if we acted late and you have already compromised our code.”

“Oh my gosh!” said Jade. “But why are you doing the interrogation? I mean, I got the impression that normally you have someone else do that.”

“My gashh,” her interrogator corrected. “You are my gashh.”

She felt her face grow hot, and the data on the wall adjusted to match it. “It’s just…an expression we use…” she struggled. “It expresses surprise.”

Chegg laughed. “I am familiar with the expression,” he said, going back to his station. “There are twelve Zeeds who do most of the interrogations on this ship. I was once one of those interrogators, and one of the reasons for my promotion was because of my interrogation skill. I want to keep that skill sharp, so I occasionally perform an interrogation myself. I find your case interesting and I want to explore your mind.”

Jade didn't like the idea of having her mind explored, but it was still a lot better than being tortured. “I tried to contact my family,” she said, “but they keep telling me I have to get permission from my interrogator. Can you give permission so I can let them know I'm okay?”

“No,” Chegg answered without any hint of apology. “I will not risk your having contact with Earth until the planet is secure.”

He started the pictures again, and they included a lot of her family and neighbors. Even her daughter Geonily was there. She had been careful not to mention Geonily, just in case the Chuzekks might want to capture her as well and use her as a hostage.

The pictures stopped sliding in from the left and began maximizing from the lower-left corner. It was a review of the pictures that had been saved, and the sorting process occurred again, with most of the pictures Jade didn't recognize sliding off to the right. Chegg often asked questions or made comments about the individuals in the pictures, usually with his hand on her back. “Does she still live in New Hampshire?” he would say, or “You find him attractive.” His touch felt like an intimate gesture, especially when coupled with some of his comments, and she found it hard to tolerate.

“Why do you keep putting your hand on my back?” she asked, trying to keep the aggravation out of her voice.

“I feel with my hand some of the information you see on the left: your breathing, your heartbeat, your temperature, the tension of many of your muscles, whether your legs are still or moving. I can see all this information and more on the wall, or on my Personal Device, but I don't want to become too dependent on the technology. I want to keep my skills sharp by not relying entirely on the telemetry from your uniform.”

“My uniform? So all this data is coming from my uniform?”

“No, the top section of horizontal lines is from the disk on your cheek.”

“This symbol,” she said, pointing to the claw-and-eye on her uniform. “What does it mean?”

“It is the symbol of the Counter-Intelligence command. Counter-Intelligence is the job of this ship.”

“And you're its Commanding Officer, right?”

“Yes.”

A few more photos sorted themselves before Jade spoke again. “You've given me two orders:” she said, “not to remove my knees from this station without your permission, and not to ask you not to touch me. I'm not going to disobey you of course. But I'm curious. Can you tell me what would happen if I did?”

“Yes,” he replied. He placed the claws of his left hand on the back of her neck as though ready to tear her. She could feel all five sharp points and had to remain perfectly still so they didn't penetrate her skin. Then he said quietly, “You would feel my claws.”

Pleased to Beat You

Here's a science fiction story, one of the eight short stories in The Claw and the Eye:

Obviously, he was just another sign of Jade's over-active imagination. She looked again to clear the bizarre image from her mind, and there he was, standing on the orange leaves behind the house. It would have been odd enough for a stranger to walk into her backyard from the forest at all. But this stranger looked like he should have been walking into a sci-fi convention. His entire head was covered in a hairless, ridged and scaly mask. He wore a futuristic-looking slate-gray jumpsuit with an intricate design of shiny gold-colored circles embossed on the front. Heavy gray boots came up to his knees. "My vehicle is disabled," he said. "I require help." He had a deep voice.
"Where is your vehicle?" Jade asked, stalling for time.

Photo:www.libroscienciaficcion.com

"About 500 meters north-northeast of here." He sounded congested.

500 meters north-northeast. There were no roads in that location--only a rough jeep track. Then either he was confused, or he was lying to hide something. "I'd be happy to call someone for you," she told him, and went into the house. She would lock the door and call 911, and they'd probably take him to the hospital.

But before she could finish closing the door, he grabbed it and followed her inside. He was tall--at least six-six.

With an effort, she looked up at the scaly mask. It fit him well--it must have been glued on and touched up with makeup. "Wait for me outside, please."

"No," he said, and closed the door.

“Really,” she insisted, her pulse throbbing in her ears, “you need to wait outside.” She tried to open the door again, but he held it closed. She kicked the little throw-rug out of the way, got a solid stance on the pine floorboards, grabbed the doorknob with both hands, leaned back and pulled hard. But of course she was no match for the much bigger intruder, and he stood there looking almost bored, holding the door shut easily with one hand.

Telling herself not to panic, she methodically put the mail down on the table, took off her coat and fed the fire in the woodstove. She replaced the stove-lid, hung the lid-lifter on its nail beside the bellows and whisk broom on the side of the stair-stringer and started for the telephone.

But when she had the phone almost within her reach, he grabbed her arm, stopping her. His touch felt like leather--and no wonder. He wore gloves to match the gray-brown 'alien' skin of his mask.

The fingers of the gloves ended in claws, but either they weren't sharp or he had been careful not to scratch her with them. "I will not allow you to contact your government," he said matter-of-factly. He must have had a bad cold: he sounded all plugged up.

"Let me go!" Jade protested, trying not to sound scared.

To her surprise, he did release her, and she made a dive for the phone.

It was useless. He grabbed her arm again and held her back.

"Okay," she breathed, hoping she hadn't angered him. "No phone calls." She paused, swallowed, took a deep breath, and said, "But then, I don't know how I can help you."

"I require heat," he replied evenly. "You will stay by the stairs." Still holding her arm, he pulled her back around the table to the place where she’d just hung the lid-lifter. She thought he might frisk her to make sure she didn’t have a cell phone on her, but he didn’t. Maybe he knew there was no cell signal there, or maybe he just didn’t think of it. He stood between the stove and the table, blocking her way to the phone, and took off his outer piece of clothing. It was a stiff piece, worn in front like the protective gear of a baseball catcher. He pulled his arms out of his jumpsuit and tied the sleeves around his waist. The long-sleeved jersey or unionsuit he wore underneath covered him completely, from 'alien' mask to 'alien' gloves.

"What should I call you?" Jade asked.

"Zukk," he answered, "My name is Zukk." It rhymed with 'duke.' But he was so congested that it sounded like, "By dabe is Zukk."

"Zukk," she repeated. "Okay. Why the alien costume?"

Zukk--or whatever his name really was--didn't answer right away. He removed a small object from his left hip and spoke into it: "Costube." Some sounds came from the object. Then he replaced it and turned to Jade. "Are you asking why I wear this clothing?"
Jade resisted the temptation to roll her eyes at this attempt at acting. "Yeah, why the alien suit? You going to a con?"

"No," he answered. "I wear the uniform of a Chuzekk Zidd." (It rhymed with 'seed.') "What should I call you?"

"Oh sorry," she answered. "I'm Jade. Nice to meet you." She offered her hand reluctantly, and he shook it.


“Jade,” he repeated.

"I should check the fire again," said Jade. It was probably too early to check the fire, but she was nervous and needed to keep moving.

He nodded and made room for her. She looked at the fire and tasted the soup that simmered on top. After adding a little black pepper and allspice, there was nothing more to do than move it to the edge of the stove to keep warm.

"Is it ready?" he asked.

"Yeah," said Jade. "It's done." She didn't want to offer him any. He wasn't a guest, after all.

He lifted the cover without a potholder and smelled the soup. "I will eat with you," he said.

His arrogance annoyed her, but she thought it would be petty to argue. "Soup mugs are on the beam," she said, pointing past him.

He grabbed two, and she got out spoons and a ladle and dill weed. He ladled soup into the mugs and ate his. She stirred dill into hers and waited. It was too hot. Besides, she was too nervous to eat.

She should try to get him to talk. It would be good to know if he was a fugitive and the alien-act was a way of concealing his identity, or if he was just crazy. Either way, he could turn dangerous.

"So where you from?" she asked.

"Chuzz," he answered.

"Choose what?"

"Chuzz is the name of my planet. You have not discovered it yet."

Jade shrugged. "I hope this soup helps your cold."

"The heat from your fire is recharging my thermal garment," he answered, sounding as congested as ever in spite of the steaming soup. "We are cold-blooded. We cannot create our own heat as you do. So we wear special garments for this purpose. After my vehicle was disabled, I did not have time to finish repairs before recharging."

"So you came to my house to recharge your garment?" Jade asked. Whatever else this guy was, he was intelligent. And was there something more to his speech, too? A hint of an accent, maybe? It was hard to say for sure, with all that congestion.

"Yes," he said.

Compassion finally got the better of her. "You should take something for that cold. A decongestant.

Let me see what I have."

He followed her to the bathroom, soup in hand. "I do dot require a decodgestat," he objected. "I ab dot codgested."

"You can't even say the word 'congested,'" she countered, "because you're too congested."

"There are some sounds of your language which we cannot make," he explained. "It is a physiological difference, not an illness."

"O-kay," she replied. He was really testing her patience. "Are you sure you don't want to take one of these anyway? It'll help you feel better."

"Yes."
She poured out one pill and held it out to him, in the bottle cap.

He ignored it. "You should eat. You require fuel to create heat. You will come with me to my vehicle."

She put the pill away. "That's okay, you go ahead. I'll stay here."

"No. I will not allow you to contact your government."

They went back to the kitchen and he handed her her soup.

She took a bite, then said, "Why not? Why won't you let me contact the government? They can help you."

"They would consider me a threat, capture me, probably kill me. They would attempt to reverse-engineer my Personal Device, my thermal garment and my vehicle. When we contact your government, we will do so with a show of force sufficient to prove such actions unwise."

"I see." His logic may have been unrelated to reality, but it certainly seemed consistent.

He was getting back into his sleeves, so she put her coat on. The bright orange safety vest, a necessity during hunting season, was already on it. She grabbed some gloves, a hat and scarf, a flashlight and the Spanish novel she'd been reading before she'd gone out for the mail.

He put his front-piece back on, picked up the soup-pot by its bail handle and took her arm again.

She closed the stove-drafts, and he pulled her out of the house.

"What is that thing for?" she asked as they walked north into the forest. She indicated with her hand the stiff thing he wore on the front of his body.

"It is armor. It was originally for battle, but since its protection is useful for many activities, we wear them most of the day."

"And the design on the front? The gold circles?"

"They indicate my rank and command: Zidd, Foreign Relations."

A brilliant red maple that still had most of its leaves caught Jade’s eye. She let her head turn to enjoy the view. He had her firmly by the arm, so she didn’t really need to look where she was going. She didn’t know whether he would let her fall if she tripped, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was being dragged into the forest by some weirdo. For all she knew, he could be a serial killer on the run. She was glad her daughter was in school. What she needed to do was find a way to convince her captor to go back, at least as far as the house, and hopefully as far as the road. At least then, there was a possibility someone would see them. “Do you know what’s wrong with your vehicle?” she asked him.

“Yes,” he said, and nothing more. He let go of her arm.

“Would you mind telling me?” she prodded.

“No,” he said. Still nothing more.

“So, um…are you going to tell me?” she asked, after a pause.

“If you want me to tell you, then I will.”

Jade rolled her eyes. “Please tell me what’s wrong with your vehicle,” she recited.

“The primary seal of the cooling fluid container for the second combustion chamber contained cellulose and fructose.”

Jade suppressed a laugh. Spaceship parts made of cellulose and fructose, what a fantasy! “Is it supposed to?” she asked.

“I do not understand,” her abductor replied, serious as ever. He walked very close to her: even if he was one of those guys whose size made them slow runners, he could still grab her if she tried to make a run for it. She kept up her pace.

“Is—that thing—supposed to be made of cellulose and fructose?” she asked, managing somehow to keep a straight face.

He shook his head “Cellulose and fructose are combustible,” he explained patiently. “They burned and the seal changed shape and caused a leak. The factory workers failed to install the secondary seal.”

Jade didn’t pay a lot of attention to the explanation. “Don’t you need to bring some tools?” she asked. “We have lots of tools at my house. I keep a basic set in my car, and then there are more in the shed. Shouldn’t we grab some?”

“Yes,” he replied, but he didn’t sound very interested.
It had worked. Jade stopped and began to turn back. “What tools do you need, exactly?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

He grabbed her arm and forced her forward, back in the direction they had been going—northeast, uphill, away from the road. The only hope of getting help out there would be if they happened to meet a hunter.

“But you said you need to get tools from my place,” she objected, looking up at him. She opened her eyes as wide as she could. Maybe he’d feel sorry for her, and reconsider.

“No,” he replied. “I said yes I do not need tools from your house. I need a tachzutt combiner and there is one in my vehicle.”

A new thought suddenly occurred to Jade: if 'Zukk' was delusional--really believed his own story--then would he become violent when he discovered there was no spaceship? She walked for a minute, thinking, silent except for the rustling sound her feet made in the leaves. Then she said,

"Does your vehicle have a self-destruct function?"

"I will not answer," was the 'alien's' response.

"Okay, that's fair. But if it does--and it's in need of repair--then the self-destruct could theoretically go off accidentally, right?"

"I don't know."

"And if that happened we could get to the spot where you left your spaceship--I mean your vehicle--and find nothing."

But when they got to the spot, it was Jade who was surprised. Standing among the wispy black-and-white-and-yellow birches and the thick green hemlocks was something that looked vaguely like a rocket--or like one of the space shuttles, only much smaller. It was white and shaped somewhat like a cone, and had some round black parts on the bottom that she took to be exhaust ports.

Just for an instant, she was tempted to wonder if Zukk really was from outer space. How else could she explain his vehicle, here in such a place? But then, a real alien ship wouldn't look like anything she had ever seen or even imagined.
"How did this get here?" she said aloud.

"I was recording this region when propulsion failed, forcing me to land. I will finish repairs. You will stay beside me."

"You were recording this region. You mean mapping it?"

"Yes." He took the device from his hip and punched in a code, and an opening appeared in the side of the vehicle. Jade noticed that he typed with his claws and not his fingers. He continued,

"Mapping and recording sounds, images, temperature, pressure, material composition and other things."

"You're a spy." She hadn't meant to say it aloud.

"Yes," They were inside the vehicle now. Zukk was typing with his claws and consulting various readouts. None of the places where he typed looked like keypads, and none of the places where the readouts showed looked like readout screens. Everything looked like structural elements--walls or posts, for example--until pictures and diagrams appeared on them.

And then she saw the writing in the readouts and forgot everything else. The characters were angular like printed Hebrew, but had a little of the brushstroke quality of Chinese. The language appeared to be either alphabetic or syllabary. If she could just hear some of it...

"What does that say?" she asked, pointing to a short piece of text above her head.

"26-pod propulsion failure,” he replied. “You will go outdoors with me." Then he took her arm and half-dragged her back out into the familiar world and away from the strange language that begged to be decoded. He had a tool in his other hand, and began using it. It appeared to be some sort of welding torch or laser.

He kept working for hours, and she couldn't convince him to let her back inside. He didn't want to talk, either, and she grew bored and cold. She ate some soup--also cold--and tried to run away but Zukk was too fast for her. She finished the chapter in the Spanish novel.

She wished she’d thought to bring her computer. She should be working right now, after all, and her next task was those four boring documents, two Spanish, one French and one Italian, that were waiting on her hard drive to be turned into English. She didn’t think for a moment that any of her clients would understand if she told them, “Your documents aren’t ready yet because I was kidnapped by a harmless man claiming to be an alien.” She may as well tell them a dog ate it, or a dinosaur.
The novel was much more interesting than those dry documents. It was also much more risky. Nobody was paying her to translate the novel, or not exactly, anyway. She was going to get a percentage, after expenses, assuming enough copies were sold to even cover the expenses.

But as excited as she was about translating the novel, even that was just another translation job. What she really wanted was to tackle a new language and analyze it. She had a feeling, and it wouldn’t go away. It was a feeling like there was something there, buried in the languages—not just in the romance languages she worked with every day. Not even in the Latin and sprinkling of Greek that was always present in all of them. The hints were there, but she wasn’t going to find the answer from just those hints. She wanted to immerse herself, for starters, in Russian, in Norwegian and Swedish, in old and new Turkish, in ancient and modern Hebrew. She didn’t need to actually learn the languages, she just needed to analyze them. Look for patterns. What patterns, she couldn’t tell. She only knew there was something.

But she was being silly. It was ridiculous to think that she, Jade Massilon, could find something the world’s expert linguists hadn’t found. She had only a GED with a couple of college courses tacked on. And she read a lot, for whatever that was worth.

And anyway it didn’t matter. She didn’t have time to chase language-ghosts; she had a living to make. She wished she’d at least thought to bring a paper and pencil. She could start working on translating the novel, that way. At least she’d be doing something, and she could get her mind off the tantalizing readouts locked inside this vehicle. She looked at Zukk working on it and wondered if it was ever going to fly. She wondered if he could really be an alien. She wondered if there was any way to know for sure.

Then suddenly he was done. He stood up and spoke a command, and the engine--or whatever it was--started with a babbling hum. Then the hum stopped and the vehicle disappeared.

"Cloaked," Jade heard herself say.

Zukk spoke another command and the vehicle reappeared, silent this time. He turned to her and offered his hand. This time, she shook it willingly. "I will leave now: you are free," he said. "I believe that since you have seen me, my government will expedite the Earth project. I expect ships from Chuzz to arrive soon." He let go of her hand and started toward his vehicle, then stopped and turned. “Our meeting was due to an error, but I am glad of it. You have a greeting.” He paused a moment to think, then said with his congested sound, “Pleased to beat you, Jade.”

Then he stepped into his vehicle and the opening closed behind him. The vehicle made its babbling hum for a few seconds, then went silent and disappeared.