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Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three

Since the beginning of time, the beings known only as "the Ancients" patrolled the universe. Where they came from -- no one knew. How many were their numbers -- also a mystery. What was their purpose?

Ah, on that question, some could venture a guess.

Some called them angels, backed by divine intervention. Others took a dim view of the Ancients' activities, cursing their unwelcome interference. Meddlers, mediators, spawns of the devil; the list was as endless as the boundaries of space.

The Ancients cared not for the accolades, nor the opprobrium of other lifeforms. They had a job to do, and one must admit, they did it well.

Entering the familiar star system with a speed that could only be imagined, She ignored Sol's outer planets and sought only the majestic orb of soft blue and white swirls. Her purpose was fixed and her concentration intense. The search did not take long.

Impatient as always, She did not wait for her slower companion. She hovered over the sparkling world, stopped her forward movement and looked down upon it. If She'd had lips, She would have smiled. As it was, She signaled her pleasure to her companion now gathering up his immense volume to join her.

"I always enjoy returning to the home planet. Nowhere in the cosmos is there as blissful and as comforting a sight as our dear Earth," She said.

"You must confess to bias," He relayed back at her, slightly miffed at her impulsiveness. "Earth was our first endeavor together as a unit."

He thinly spread his bodiless form above the exosphere -- the outer edges of the planet's atmosphere. His colorless expanse reached from pole to pole.

She interpreted the gesture as an embrace. Gratified, She mingled her molecules with his. "I confess nothing but the truth. The worlds our children have conquered are but poor substitutes for the diversity and beauty of this system."

Indeed, the solar system boasted many attractions. While not precisely unique the planets were spectacular in their magnificence. Mighty gaseous giants, ringed worlds of dazzling loveliness, and starkly barren slabs of rock. And of course, the jewel in the crown: planet Earth.

A sadness filled her. "How lamentable that those who now comprise the Galactic Core Coalition are unaware of what they had left behind. Mother Earth lies empty but for a few thousand Humans."

Puzzlement invaded his meditations. "Only thousands?" He concentrated on the cloud, ocean, and land globe beneath them. "You exaggerate. I sense a million or two."

"Paltry numbers when compared with the Core population!"

A small particle of space debris shot through her essence, only to burn up in the atmosphere below. "Even now I fear that our wandering seeds have lost their way in the vastness and the glory of the universe."

She pulsed with a brilliant white light so at odds with the black velvet backdrop of space. Stars were sparse in this curving arm of the spiral galaxy where Sol was located. Few suns and fewer people. Was it a coincidence that the bulk of Humanity now resided near the center of the galaxy, which blazed with a never-ending incandescence?

Compressing his celestial matter into a vaguely Human-shaped fist, He declared, "Indeed, that is the case. We must take steps --"

Although it was impossible for her to laugh, an amused cadence entered her thought patterns.

"Steps? Do you mean a bipedal walk?"

"Frivolous banter will not aid our children! By foul and heinous means the Uortzks are plotting to overpower the Coalition, which will in turn endanger the very existence of this galaxy. Although we cannot directly interfere, it is time for us to provide assistance. Else all we have nurtured these millennia will be for naught."

He was correct. How could She be merry when so much was at stake? She would make amends.

"Wait for me. I shall return."

Focusing down a golden portion of her being to Earth's surface, She scanned the diverse terrain. At first uncertain for whom or for what She searched, She persisted.

She felt heavy, but then again, She was heavy. The pull of Earth upon her infinitesimal mass disturbed the delicate balance of her atomic makeup. No matter. Her mission was urgent, the discomfort would be temporary.

The gleaming cities of steel and glass did not interest her. She passed over them. Instead, She sought out the wide open plains. Fields of farmlands rich with abundant crops greeted her senses. Dark, fertile soil radiating earthy aromas made her dizzy with the beneficence of nature.

Yes, this was it. She was close to what She desired now.

By a hillside the pure sweet notes of a lyre beckoned. She instantly recognized the ancient instrument. Swooping down, She was rewarded with the vision of a young woman plucking the lyre's strings. The Human's musical voice combined a song of the present with a melody from the past. The song spoke of needs long denied, of goals yet accomplished and of love unfulfilled.

Good. An appreciation for things long since gone and a desire to meld as a unit. Perhaps the female even possessed an understanding of history.

Pleased, She enfolded the young woman in her golden rays, showering the Human with affection. The quest was over. The galaxy's salvation would soon be at hand!

The female began to grow restive, unease filtered through the young body. The last thing She wanted to do was to alarm the Human. Quickly disengaging from the contact, She then spirited up to the farthest reaches of Earth's exosphere. The tedious gravity that had briefly tied her down was now joyfully absent. To celebrate, She whirled her being into a tumultuous cyclone.

Patient as always, He allowed her this joviality.

"Yes," She throbbed through whirlwind gyrations, "as is your habit, you are correct, my partner." She then joined with him in a blessed reunion. It was good to be as one again. "I agree that the Uortzks must be stopped. It is time we provided assistance."

CHAPTER ONE

"Martin Midway McLaren! Of all the crazy...Oh, what am I going to do with you?"

Mart had left home hours ago, so Sam really wasn't expecting an answer. She took one look at her feather-strewn kitchen, changed her mind about entering, then slammed the door on the mess. Not that her kitchen was usually spotless, but chickens running amuck? Mart, how could you?

Sam sank down on her haunches, leaned back against the closed door and exhaled slowly. Long, loose tendrils of hair danced around her face. Indecision stayed her movements.

Exasperation with her brother Mart flooded her emotions, but she quickly banished the unkind thoughts. The poor kid suffered from that awful condition. She could never remain angry with him for long. In fact, her initial irritation had already dissolved. Only curiosity remained. Why in blue blazes did he allow his two pet hens, feisty Cluck-Cluck and Henrietta, to literally rule the roost inside the house?

Sam glanced at her wristwatch: seven o'clock. Mart wasn't due to unicopter back home for another three hours. She'd have to wait for the answer to that puzzle.

Well, why put off the inevitable? She stood and brushed some travel dirt from her pants. The old saying went, "There was no rest for the weary." It fit her to a tee. After riding her antique bicycle eight miles to her tedious job at the unicopter factory, Sam was as weary as a one-dollar bill.

She grabbed the porch broom with which to shoo Cluck-Cluck and Henrietta back outside. Some days never seemed to end and today was destined to be one of them.

Lately, Mart seemed more restless than usual. Although he had just reached his twentieth year, because of his disease, he acted more like twelve -- on occasion. And Sam, only twenty-four, felt three times her years. Once in a while the responsibility of looking after him sat heavily on her shoulders. Like tonight. She couldn't blame him when he called her an old fogy. Most evenings all she wanted to do was relax -- maybe play the lyre or read.

But what other pastimes were available in this isolated part of Greater Missouri? Perhaps it was a matter of principle, but she refused to use the televiewer at all. Virtual reality devices made her sick, and even riding in unicopters caused bubbles in her stomach. Technological progress was not always a good thing. Just look at what had happened to their parents...

She sighed. "First things first. I might as well buckle down and get this cleaned." Anticipating the barnyard smell, she wrinkled her nose, opened the barricade and walked into the kitchen. A tiny white feather, once belonging to Cluck-Cluck, fluttered in the air to greet her. The feather was one of too many.

When Mart returned home tonight, he'd better have a darn good reason for taking the chickens in as boarders.

After finishing the Herculean task, Sam didn't have much longer to wait for Mart. To pass the time, she sat on the cement steps in front of her screened-in porch. It was moments like these that she truly appreciated the isolation from town. Only the loud buzzing of cicadas and crisp chirps from crickets kept her company. She never tired of hearing the insects' mysterious communication. Sam felt calm, at peace with herself and the world. Sweet smells of honeysuckle drifted over to her, soothing away her previous agitation.

Thankfully, men and their noisy mechanical toys were asleep. At this hour, nature took over to provide a moonlight symphony. The majestic blackness above demanded her attention, as it always did when the skies were clear. Inclining her head back, she gazed up at the star-sprinkled night. Amazing how the constellations of today in the year 2452 were the same as long ago -- the same as the ones viewed by the people she longed to learn more about: the Greeks and the Romans.

So much had changed since then, while so much remained the same.

A repetitive clamor disturbed the natural quiet. As it grew closer a sudden hurricane whipped the air into a frenzy. Displaced clumps of loose rich soil flew at her. Her long hair flapped wildly about her face and she shielded her eyes from the dirt.

The whirl of engines abruptly stopped. Mart had landed -- out in the fields past their house.

"He remembered!" At long last he finally respected her wishes to set down his unicopter away from the hen house. That was a good sign. Maybe he'd had a day free from any "occurrences."

Peering into the night, she searched for him, but the inky darkness refused to reveal his form. Mart's voice traveled far and arrived before he did. But he wasn't talking to her. Was he speaking to himself?

The strange thing was, she thought she heard someone's reply.

"Mart?" An uneasiness chilled Sam's backbone. "Mart, is that you?" Another realization of just how isolated she was returned. This time, though, she wasn't thanking her lucky stars.

Just then, Mart came into view. But as she was about to give a sigh of relief, someone else also appeared. Someone who, for some reason, set her teeth on edge.

She gulped down hard. Good heavens, this is the same weird feeling I had three weeks ago when --

"I knew Sam would be sittin' up, waitin' for me. Didn't I tell you? She always treats me like I'm a kid." Mart tried to disguise his youth by deepening his voice.

Mart's companion nodded. Sam could see him distinctly now. The man was a lot older, maybe forty-five or so. Short too, his height only reached two thirds of the way up Mart's gangly six foot two inches. But the stranger's large chest barreled out of proportion to his spindly body. His silver thatch of hair matched the sheen on his form- fitting clothes. Again, that shouldn't have raised red flags. However, his eyes were completely hidden by a dark shield, surrounding his sockets and giving him a bug-eyed look.

Why wear sun visors in the middle of the night? How could the man see?

Sam grabbed onto the railing and pulled herself up. Just who did Mart bring home on this previously uneventful summer night?

Mart, as usual, had no idea of the frayed state of her nerves. His excitement caused his movements to seem even jumpier than normal.

"Sam, this is cosmic! I know you don't follow the viewer-reports, but hold onto your hat. This news is gonna pierce your ears!"

With obvious disbelief, he turned to the man. "Sam's gotta be the only one in the world who doesn't know about you --"

"Sam?" the man questioned.

The eerie, high pitch of his voice caused her to bite her lip inadvertently. Although she couldn't be certain, she had the impression that he scrutinized every last inch of her...and she wasn't dressed for receiving company. Her flexi-pants were still splattered with dirt and her top bore the wrinkles and creases of the day. Embarrassed, she flushed hotly.

"Sam," the man repeated. "Ach, nae. A male name dinna do justice to such a lass."

He reminded her of a spider -- all arms, legs and chest. And a Scottish spider to boot. She took a step up the stairs.

Nodding rapidly, Mart's spiky hair bobbed in the breeze. "By the comets! How did you know? Her name's Sophia, actually. Sophia Audrey McLaren -- Sam. Isn't my friend somethin', Sam?"

She frowned. Why did Mart have to reveal personal information? The name Sam suited her -- down to Earth, pragmatic and dependable. Sophia was...whimsical.

Yes, your friend is something, she silently agreed. But just what exactly is he?

The man held out his hand. "Sophia. Aye. I'll call the young lass, Sophia. I go by Fredd...Fredd Desilva."

He spelled his name, but after he finished, his hand was still outstretched.

As gingerly as she could, she extended her own hand. At the contact, she looked down at his fingers. The thumb was normal -- short and squatty as everyone's was. But his four fingers were elongated. Close to double the appropriate length.

Even the feel of his rough, callused skin made her own skin tingle in warning. She shivered in the warm, night air.

Oh dear heavens! This man, this Fredd, isn't quite normal. Where on Earth did he come from? He couldn't possibly be an honest to goodness...alien, could he?

The occurrence of aliens visiting the solar system was extremely rare -- even today. But none of the ones she'd read about looked like Fredd.

Once the great migration from Earth ended in 2105, little interaction between the two Human groups had taken place. Part of the non-communication was due to the distances involved. About 30,000 light years separated Earth from the center of the Milky Way galaxy. That was where the Galactic Core Coalition, an alliance between Humans and other life forms, had come into being over three hundred years ago.

Of course, thanks to modern technology and those dangerous wormholes, or "tunnels through space," transmissions could be achieved in a couple of weeks. Quite an accomplishment, really. But at least on the migrators' part, absence from Earth did not make the heart grow fonder. Communiqués had grown fewer and fewer until the Galactic Core Coalition, or the GCC, had become a myth in the minds of most Earthers.

For Sam it did, anyway. After her parents' death en route to a vacation on the moon, Sam wanted nothing to do with techno-babble in any way shape or form. Mart, however, thrived on the stuff.

But here she was, forgetting her manners. "N...Nice to meet you, Fredd. Why don't we go inside?"

By the time the three of them clattered up the steps into the newly cleaned kitchen, Sam had composed herself a tiny bit. She washed her hands, then turned from the sink to look at Mart and the stranger seated at the table. Right now the man seemed normal enough.

"Er, Fredd, would you like something to drink?"

He smiled -- a nice, friendly smile. He still wore his sun visors, though. Hard to get to know a person if his eyes were hidden.

"With appreciation, Sophia, I hunger fer fruit."

Mart leaped up from the table and headed for the pantry. "Certainly, we have a ton of apples 'n whatever. Sam, why don't you sit? I'll get the coffee."

Taking him up on his offer, she let him be the host. It was good to see him behave as an adult. Just as it was good for him to remain calm. Extreme excitement was what triggered the "attacks."

He poured three cups of coffee, meticulously stirred each one, and set the mugs down, along with a plate filled with various kinds of fruit.

Sam curved her fingers around the steaming coffee mug. She'd really let her imagination work overtime concerning Fredd. Up close, his uniformly silver hair didn't seem odd, especially considering the lined and leathery skin on his face. And his fingers weren't that long, and his chest didn't puff out so much. Only the visors were out of place, but then again, maybe he was an eccentric.

He studied the dish, then picked up a banana by its stem. "The name fer this?"

Mart laughed, causing his freckles to echo his excitement. "Oh, cosmic! That's a banana, Fredd."

Sam held her tongue. Mart wouldn't take kindly to her warning him not to get keyed up.

The older man nodded. "Ba...nan...a," he said, almost lovingly. "I've heard of Terran bananas."

The banana disappeared as if he had inhaled it. "'Tis nectar of the gods," Fredd said, smacking his thin lips.

Fredd's words sank in. Terra was another name for Earth. Heavens, he must be an alien!

She sipped her drink to collect herself. So what if he was? He didn't look so different and she sure didn't want to add the word "xenophobe" to her list of accomplishments.

Tonight was a night of oddities. Even the coffee had a peculiar taste.

Mart slapped her on the back, spilling some of the mocha liquid onto her sleeve. "Yeah, you've figured it out, Sam! Fredd's a genuine visitor from the Core. Can you believe it? Ever since he put down at Luna Landin', the news has been blarin' over the televiewer, but you never look at it. In fact, I'm surprised there weren't any snoopin' reporters waitin' for us when we touched down."

Her brother ran his hand over his head, spiking up the brown hair even further. "No matter. I guess that's why I was so excited this mornin'. When I left the back door open, the chickens scooted in, then I forgot to let the little devils out. Maybe they didn't cause too much of a mess, huh? Sorry, Sam."

"That's okay." Good thing she'd decided to let her talk about responsibility go the way of the wind. Apologizing for his actions was a maturing step for Mart. Even though she always professed to prefer the old ways, she had to admit Fredd was beginning to fascinate her. So this was what visitors from the Core looked like.

"Martin," the man said in his distinctly squeaky voice, "as we previously discussed, I need to speak with yer sibling -- in private."

Sam sat up straight. She wasn't that fascinated! "Er, Mart, I --"

"Don't waste any electrons on it, Sam. Fredd's gotta proposition for you. Somethin' that concerns me 'n maybe you, if you want. Promise me you'll hear him out."

She drummed her fingernails against the table's plastic top. Darn the boy. What was he up to? Making deals with...with someone from outside the solar system! But whatever was it about?

You'll never know unless you let the man explain. True. Curiosity won out.

"Okay, but whatever it is, I'm not in the market for other worldly real estate!"

Mart chuckled. "See, Fredd, I told you she has a sense of humor."

Sam finished the rest of her coffee. Definitely something strange here. Mart never sang her praises to anyone.

An awkward pause indicated that Fredd was waiting for Mart to leave. He complied. "Well, I'll be right outside."

The door closed, then Fredd tapped his elongated fingers together, making a pyramid shape. "Martin told me about you, Sophia."

She raised an eyebrow. "Not much to tell."

"Nae, I disagree. You shine beautifully inside and out. This I know. In truth, our meeting dinna come by chance. Fate played a hand."

He leaned across the table, which sent her scooting back in her chair. "You haven't formed an attachment, now have you, lass? I understand you remain legally and emotionally free."

Her mouth dropped. Fate played a hand? Emotionally free as in her love life? Fredd's proposition concerned...marriage? Or whatever the GCC called mating between the sexes. Yikes! She couldn't sit still on that one. Standing, she paced the kitchen's pseudo-marble slated floor.

"Er, Fredd, I really don't know what you're talking about. No matter what my brother told you, matrimony here on Earth isn't something to enter into lightly."

That was certainly true. Ever since she'd turned eighteen she had avoided getting married for one reason or another. Like her commitment to take care of Mart. Anyway, she'd never fallen in love. Ever. Not puppy-love nor the star-crossed lovers type.

She re-cleaned the counter, then the table -- movements to rid herself of her anxiety. "Why would you be interested in marriage?"

Fredd placed his hand atop hers, perhaps to stop her activity. "Nae, nae, not marriage. I just talk. Sophia, you have commendable qualities so rarely found in all the known worlds. Aye, I learned of yer existence even before I left my home. Everything rings true that I heard. Yer internal fires burn deeply and yer long dark hair with ebony eyes bespeak a spirited passion."

"Pardon me?" Beads of perspiration popped up on Sam's lip. She removed her hand from under his, then backed away. If he wasn't talking about marriage, then what?

He smiled again. "No cause for alarm, Sophia. You must pardon me. Let's speak about yer sibling. He has Beta-Siwinski Disease, aye?"

She nodded.

Fredd also stood. His silver head was in no danger of touching the plaster ceiling. "The cure remains elusive fer Terrans, however the Core's main world, Xaspaar, has an antidote fer this condition. With it, Martin can regain his wholeness."

A cure? A cure for Mart? The sun suddenly burst into this long, eternal night. Never again would Mart's senses become overloaded. Never again would his brain essentially shut down, stopping all non-basic functions. For once and for all, he wouldn't lose the ability to speak, move, and see.

This was the most joyous of nights! Tears rushed to her eyes while her heart hammered against the sides of her ribs.

"Fredd, you can make him well? You can cure Beta-Siwinski Disease? Oh, I would be forever grateful! I --"

"On Xaspaar, lass. Martin must return with me to Xaspaar."

It was as if everything came to a crashing halt. In a mid-air, her arm remained frozen. Her eyes refused to blink. All motion ceased as a freeze frame in an ancient cinema production.

"Oh, my heavens." Somehow, she found the words, easing them out in a slow, steady stream. "For Mart to be cured, he has to go...to go with you to the center of the galaxy?"

"Aye."

Fredd might as well have said to go into the realm of angels. The center of the galaxy -- what a fantastical notion. Of course for him, the trip was routine. But for Mart...

She narrowed her eyes. "Why are you offering to do this, Fredd?" In less polite words what she meant was, what was in it for him? What was the price?

He spread out his misshapen hands. "I dinna have the persuasive ways of the Yeamonl to explain. However, facts never lie. My travels led me to Terra in search of..." He shrugged. "'Tis no matter. Mere chance introduced me to yer sibling. Nae, not mere chance but fate. Fate decrees that I assist Martin. I know this as I know my own heart."

Fredd placed the palm of his hand over the left side of his barrel chest.

At least his heart was in the same place as hers, but the identity of the Yeamonl would remain a mystery. Sam had other things on her mind.

"Would you consider accompanying us, Sophia?"

Flattery aside, she was getting a little miffed. "Sorry to disappoint you, Fredd, but I haven't given my permission for Mart to go with you. And as for me, I like my feet planted on terra firma, no pun intended. We barely even know you. How can I allow my brother to traipse across space to a big question mark in the sky?"

The more she thought about the offer, the more outrageous it sounded. How could she take this man's word that there was indeed a cure for Beta-Siwinski Disease? She stiffened her back. It was much too risky.

The man laughed, which threw her for a loop. His pitch was so high, she worried about the window panes breaking.

"Sophia, your sibling already said aye. I dinna mean this unkindly, but he dinna require your permission. We leave tomorrow."

Tomorrow? No. No. Fuzzy white dots rapidly appeared before her eyes. She had to sit. If she didn't, she'd faint. Ever since their parents' death eight years ago, she'd been taking care of Mart. She couldn't lose him -- not now. What else was there to live for?

But what if Fredd is telling the truth? Maybe Mart can be cured.

She yawned -- a completely inappropriate response. "Excuse me, Fredd. I don't know what to do. This is so...sudden."

And unusual, bizarre, ludicrous -- the list of objections was endless.

Walking over to the window, he looked out at the starry night. "In many cases opportunity knocks only once. You must trust me, Sophia. Yer sibling does. And we both desire fer you to accompany us, however the choice remains yours."

"If I go...if...there'd be arrangements to make. I'd have to notify Mart's professors, give notice at my job, find homes for the chickens. Things like that. A day isn't long enough to prepare for such a major...upheaval."

"The last shuttle to Luna Landing departs at five in the evening. You would have until then." Fredd's face betrayed nothing of what he was thinking. Only the eyes could reveal inner revelations.

Her shoulders slumped. "Well, it's almost twelve midnight, and I'm extremely tired. You'll have to forgive me if I go to bed. I'll give you my answer in the morning."

None of this was real. None of this was happening. Either way, she would lose. Either Mart would be gone for who knew how long, or she'd be uprooted in the worst possible manner. She'd have to say good-bye to everything familiar and journey into the unknown.

She shivered. "Did Mart invite you to spend the night, or is he taking you back...to your hotel?" Or wherever it was that Fredd stayed.

"An invitation here, with yer permission, Sophia."

Sophia. She was beginning to hate the sound of her own name. "Fine, then. I'll let Mart show you to the spare room. Good-night."

After yawning again, she hurried out to the porch. Mart was waiting for her, the light of the moon bouncing off his hair.

Dear, dear Mart. Tears puddled in her eyes. She swallowed her emotion. "Martin, I'm turning in for the night. Why don't you make sure that your guest is comfortable?"

Without words, Mart's widened brown eyes demanded to know what had transpired. Or more specifically, what her response had been.

She hugged him tightly, blinking back the tears. "I...I just can't decide tonight. It's too...too frightening."

Mart submitted to her squeeze and awkwardly patted her on the back. "I understand, Sam. But it's a chance for me to be normal. I have to go."

She swiped her eyes. "Yes, well, I guess I'd better get to bed." Although there was no way that she could sleep, not with this quandary heavy on her mind.

Her tears refused to dry. Not wanting Mart to see, she murmured, "G'Night," then rushed off to her bedroom. She pulled off her clothes and slithered underneath the cool sheets of her comfortable bed. Safe, but only temporarily. Tomorrow was destined to bring big unwelcome changes. And there was nothing she could do about it. Her life here was about to become detached from her as cleanly as if seared by a laser.

Of course she would accompany Mart. She'd known that as soon as Fredd mentioned that there was a cure. Yawning again, she closed her eyes and fell into a deep, dreamless and unexpected sleep.

CHAPTER TWO

In deep space it is said even the dead feel cold. She could appreciate the sentiment. Cold was not a condition She relished. Contracting her mass into a small sphere, She increased the speed of her molecules.

As the subatomic particles rubbed, then collided with each other, a comforting warmth invaded her essence. Satisfied, she ceased the frenetic motion. All too soon the frigid cold returned.

"I cannot understand why you wish to follow the ship's progress," She complained to her partner. "Stopping between planetary systems just to monitor the Humans' journey! This is a waste of resources. Everything is on schedule. There can be no cause for concern."

In the endless darkness, He encircled her being with his own. This mingling of matter produced a blessed wave of heat.

"Patience, my own one, this mission is too important to leave to chance. While Desilva is a competent navigator the vortex tunnels known to Humans as black holes or wormholes, are capricious. A slight energy flux can alter the destination causing disastrous consequences."

She viewed the nearby wormhole with askance. Instead of being black, it pulsed and throbbed with living color: vibrant reds, jarring oranges, and dazzling blues. Slithering, slimy, and palpitating. She was grateful She did not have to rely on such a device to travel the length of the galaxies.

"I have faith in Desilva," She communicated. "After all, we chose him for this endeavor."

"True. However, you are forgetting the resourcefulness of the Uortzks. Even now they might have some inkling about the true nature of Desilva's excursion. A pleasure cruise does not fit Desilva's profile. He is not a man to indulge in meaningless sightseeing. And he does hold the ear of the mighty JorVaal."

To show her displeasure, She performed a wide-edged swoop, taking care to avoid the radiation emanating from the wormhole. "Nonsense. Even Desilva is not fully aware of his purpose. And you speak of JorVaal as if he were divine. He is only a Human, subject to the same foibles and follies as the rest of them."

"JorVaal is a wise leader," He reprimanded her. "Billions in the Core revere him. No one -- Human, altered, or alien -- commands the allegiance of so many."

She bubbled her reply. "Exactly so, my partner. But who commands his love? That is why we arranged for young Ms. McLaren to supply what JorVaal lacks."

He stiffened his immense volume. "Indeed? I was under the impression we are interfering in order to halt the Uortzks' treachery."

"And that, also."

Sensing a disturbance in the space-time continuum, She paused to identify it. "It is the ship! They are about to enter the wormhole."

Floating at a distance of two parsecs, both She and He watched the ship approach the tunnel. With a sound not audible to Human ears, the wormhole greedily sucked up the gleaming spacecraft. In less than a second, it was gone, leaving only the void of interstellar dust. Later, in a timeframe much too tiny to mention, the ship would reappear in another part of the galaxy, shot out of the bowels of a white hole.

She vibrated her unease. "They are all right inside, are they not?"

He shot forth a thin beam of his essence to find out. "Yes," He replied. "Everyone is fine except Ms. McLaren. She is about to...lose her last meal."

There wasn't much She could do to alleviate the Human female's condition. "I grieve for her discomfort, however Ms. McLaren shall have to get over that propensity of hers. I believe there are five additional wormholes left for her to traverse before the journey concludes at Xaspaar."

Sam straightened up from bending over the small metallic sink. After heaving for the past hour, there shouldn't have been anything left in her stomach to eject. Shouldn't, but yet her body still kept upchucking more of her insides. She felt positively green. Enough was enough. Gritting her teeth, she dry-vacuumed the sink's bowl, then turned her back on its now-pristine state. Although the ship's low gravity was what initially caused her nausea, she should have been grateful for it. If they'd been totally weightless, she would have had a doozy of a mess to clean up -- floating globules of breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

She'd never left Greater Missouri before and now here she was, zillions of miles from Earth and the solar system, heading straight for the center of the galaxy. When she did things, she did them in a big way, didn't she?

Traveling through normal space had been difficult enough, but this wormhole experience was fifty times worse. Maybe she should just lie down, give up the ghost, and wait for angels to claim her spirit.

Why, oh why did she leave the sweet confines of mother Earth?

Of course, she knew the answer to that. And, speaking of Mart, she'd better check on him to see how he fared under the gut-wrenching pull of the wormhole. Fortunately, she could tell they'd passed through and exited. The ship didn't vibrate as before.

Sam shut the door on the tiny "facility" room and headed for the command area. Now that her stomach was light the low gravity gave a bounce to her walk. It wasn't unpleasant; in fact, she felt rather graceful.

She smiled. Hopefully, she wouldn't spend all of her time in the closet-sized "facility" room.

The ship's corridor widened into a spoon shape encompassing the command area. Miniature devices covered the sides and ceiling of the room. They beeped and blinked, fighting for her attention. Even the floor contained complex switches. But then, when the gravity equalizer was turned off, who could say which was the floor and which was the ceiling?

With his back to her, Fredd was obviously busy with the equipment, checking a viewer here, flipping a lever there. But it was so dark that only the lights from the instrumentation panel illuminated the compartment. She squinted her eyes for a better focus. How on Earth could he see clearly?

Mart was nowhere in sight. Maybe she should ask --

"Sophia."

Still fussing with his gadgets, Fredd's voice called to her. But how did he know that she stood waiting in the corridor?

"Come. Enter, lass. I hope you suffered no ill effects from the wormhole."

Nothing but a permanent hollowed out feeling. She bit back her unkind comment. "No, I'm fine, Fredd."

"Good. Wormhole 354Q399 in Sector M.42 troubles even the most seasoned of travelers."

Perhaps then, she wasn't such a rookie after all. She stepped into the crowded console area. A pungent, irritating odor drifted towards her and she sniffed to identify it.

"Ozone," Fredd stated, again knowing her movements without looking at her. "Exposure to ultraviolet radiation turns some of our oxygen to ozone. Dinna worry, I will increase power to the filter and get rid of the gas."

Soon the disagreeable scent was replaced by a cool breeze containing a slightly metallic smell -- recycled air.

"Thanks, Fredd. Um, I don't see Mart. Is he okay?"

"Yer sibling slept through the worst part of the turbulence. Martin rests against the compiler-tubes."

Once pointed in the right direction, Sam spotted him easily. In the darkness, his normally tan face seemed deathly pale and his head was cocked back at an unnatural angle.

She knelt by his side, her cabin suit crinkling in protest. "Mart?"

He didn't answer, so she roughly shook his shoulder. "Mart, oh, do get up!"

His left eye cracked open. "Keep your hat on, Sam. Let a guy wake up peacefully, why don't you?"

She sank back on her heels. Mart was right; she did worry about him too much. But from his rigid expression, lack of movement, and sheen of perspiration, he might have been in the unresponsive throes of a Beta-Siwinski attack. Then again, he just might have been sleeping.

"Sorry, Mart. I guess you passed through the wormhole with flying colors. Am I glad that's over with."

Fredd's sharp voice echoed back to the compiler-tubes. "With regret, I must tell you, Sophia. We need to travel through more holes."

Even Mart's face paled further. "Slugs! How many more, Fredd?"

"Five."

Sam swallowed a bit of bile. "I think I'll be spending the rest of the time over the sink."

"Not if I beat you to it." Mart slowly got to his feet, then massaged his neck. His rapid breathing pronounced to all who knew him that those simple actions took quite an effort.

She stood. "You did have an episode, didn't you?"

His dark eyes regained their fire. "Episode? Call it what it is, Sam. I turned into a damned corpse for a while. So what's the big deal? I'm used to it." He stomped over to his supply bag. "Hey, I'm gonna make some valerian tea. Helps me sleep naturally. Want some, Fredd?"

"I thank you, but no, lad. While navigating near the holes, I must refrain from using sedatives of any kind." Fredd peered into a viewer, then clicked on one of the instruments.

"Sam, you?"

"No, Mart. You know I don't care for the taste."

Pouring the ground herb into a drinking bottle, he smirked. "You drank it all last night, without one murmur. When I looked in on you, you were sleepin' like a baby."

Words caught in her throat. So that was why the coffee had tasted peculiar. "You had no right, Martin McLaren. Why on Earth --"

"Precisely that, sister dear. I knew you were gonna leave Earth to accompany me. Just as I knew you would have anxiously tossed 'n turned all night. Admit it, how do you think you would be feelin' right now without a good night's sleep?"

He had a point. She begrudgingly thanked him. How unusual for Mart to consider her needs.

"Well, don't waste any brain cells on it. I figured Fredd has enough on his hands without havin' to listen to crabby Earthers."

Mart's gruff logic didn't fool her. The sting of a tear made her blink.

He switched off the hot water spigot. "Maybe it's time that we both grew up."

She looked at her brother in a new light. "Maybe I will have a cup of that wretched stuff after all."

Fumbling around the water container, she searched for a bottle and straw. "Fredd, do you have another --"

Just as she noticed that he wasn't wearing his sun visors, he turned around and she saw exactly what his dark shields had been hiding. His eyes were...blue. Brilliantly bright, sapphire blue. All blue, except for the pupil. Fredd had no whites of the eye to speak of.

What manner of man was he?

"Here's a water bottle, Sam." Mart handed her the thing.

She quickly transferred her gaze to it, embarrassed that she'd been staring.

Fredd reached over and pressed his hand down on her shoulder. "Sophia, please, dinna feel afraid. Allow me to explain my differences."

Try as she might, she couldn't look into his extraordinary eyes. "I'm not afraid, only a bit confused."

"Genetic engineering created my ancestors, lass. Nary a complete redesign, as in pantropy, but some basic tinkering in order fer Humans to survive my home world, Alvitar. Most of my people live underground, mining precious minerals. As Genetically Altered Humans or GAHs, Alvitans have modified eyes and increased lung capacity -- four lungs instead of two."

About two hundred years ago, the world congress passed legislation that banned genetic engineering on Humans. "Too much like playing God" was the general sentiment. Evidently, the Humans in the Core Coalition felt differently.

Fredd fluttered his elongated fingers. "Also, an unpredicted side effect -- our singular hands. You see, some of our genes come from bats."

A primordial fear wrapped its unhealthy tendrils around the rational part of Sam's mind. Bats. Sharp canine-toothed vampire bats. She sucked down the bitter herbal tea; she needed something to restore her sanity.

Mart slapped her on the back, but unlike yesterday, the liquid couldn't splash out to wet her cabin suit. "Isn't that cosmic, Sam? Not the kind you're thinkin' of, though -- Fredd's part vegetarian bat, of the suborder megachiroptera."

Fredd grinned. "Our myths tell us about Terran fruits. Our bat relatives especially like bananas."

"Yeah, in this case the myth turns out to be true. Sam here knows about myths. She prefers the company of moldy books, especially books on ancient Romans. Person to person interaction leaves her cold."

"There's a lot to be said for the Roman culture, Mart," she defended hotly. Why did she feel the need to do so? "Many of their architectural achievements are still standing today. Their plays form the backbone of modern theater. I could go on and on --"

"Please, you're borin' Fredd 'n me." Mart slung his supply bag over his shoulder. "You spend too much time with your nose buried in books. Tell Fredd what you told me about golden rays pourin' over you. You remember, you compared it to the myth where the god Jupiter in the form of golden rain visited the maiden, who was it -- Danaë? -- to impregnate her!"

Mart hid his laugh behind his hand. "Fredd, I swear, Sam was serious!"

The damage done, Mart made his retreat. "I have to go check on...somethin'. Be right back."

"Take forever," Sam mumbled. If only she could hide in a corner and lose herself in one of the books Mart complained about.

"You had a strange experience, lass?"

Fredd's unblinking gaze was unnerving. This whole experience was unnerving. But like it or not, she'd signed on for the duration. She couldn't change her mind and say, "Let me off at the next stop, please." No, she might as well sit back and enjoy the ride. Her stomach protested its empty state. Perhaps endure was a more accurate word than enjoy.

"Lass?"

"Well, Mart's referring to a strange feeling I had about three weeks ago. It was nighttime and I was alone on a hillside, playing my lyre." She stopped. Did he know what a lyre was?

"The musical instrument, aye. Go on."

Uncanny how he seemed to read her mind at times. "Suddenly, a glimmering haze covered me. I felt warmth, approval, and, well, love. It reminded me of the old story of Persus, the ancient hero and how he'd been conceived. You know, the golden rain. It was so uncanny, I had to tell my brother about it. Of course, he laughed then, as he does now."

Before Fredd wondered whether there was a further connection, she clarified, "I'm not, um, pregnant or anything. It just was sort of spooky for me. I'm about as down to Earth as a person can get."

In the figurative sense. Literally, who knew how far her feet strayed from home sweet home?

To her surprise, Fredd didn't find her experience amusing. He scratched at his pure silver hair that now reflected back rainbow colors from the panel lights. "Three weeks ago. Interesting. Almost three weeks ago I had an unexpected urge to tour the galaxy." He shrugged his bony shoulders. "True, I dinna behave as the typical Alvitan does since my current home lies above ground, off-world."

Her confused expression must have been easily read, for he continued, "I have ambassador status on Xaspaar, the Core's main planet, you see. Also, I serve as deputy to one of the GCC's leaders, the mighty JorVaal." Fredd laughed. "Quite an irresponsible and irregular action fer me to embark on this journey. Plus, I had no specific guidance as to where I was going, yet somehow I ended up at Luna Landing. Fate then guided me to yer sibling...and you." He held her with his gaze. "A possible coincidence between the two events?"

"No. They're completely unrelated. Besides, I could have imagined the sensation."

Denying the incident was easier to digest than believing some unknown hand of destiny linked two extreme locations of the galaxy, bending personal will against a cosmic degree.

Definitely eerie!

Fredd turned back to the console. "As you wish, lass. We have fifteen of yer Terran days remaining to the trip. I suggest you study the viewer to learn the ways of Core civilization. It will go easier on you if you do."

"Yes, thank you, Fredd. That's a great idea."

"You might find some of the information disagreeable. Fer example, you must cut the flowing cascade of yer rich, dark hair."

"I must?" She fingered a lock and curled it around her finger. "And why is that?" At times Fredd spoke so poetically.

"No one, male or female, wears hair below the base of the neck on Xaspaar. Long hair represents the barbarous past -- a symbol of more sensuous, less disciplined times. If you refuse to cut yer hair, once we land, you must expect confinement with other criminal violators."

Oh great, she was a criminal now? And over what, the length of her hair? Incredible.

Fredd spread his hands. "My regrets, Sophia."

"Don't worry about it. Maybe I'll just stay inside the ship."

She furiously cleaned out the water bottle and slammed it down. Just what kind of society equated someone's hairdo with theft or murder? Or perhaps those activities were tolerated?

"Well, it seems I have a great deal of viewing to do. See you later, Fredd."

With a rush, she strode back into the narrow corridor. The force of her movement caused her to bounce off one wall into the other.

That certainly was a dignified exit. Sam straightened her posture then continued down the hallway. She didn't know much about this Galactic Core Coalition, but she did know one thing. Deep down on a gut level, she didn't like it. She didn't like it one bit.

Mart quickly plowed through the corridor, paused at one of the many exit shafts littered throughout the ship, then looked over his shoulder. Good. No one was tailing him. Hoisting himself inside, he followed a downward path. After a few paces, he turned left into another darkened tunnel, then an immediate right, down two levels, then left again.

An outside observer would have believed Mart to be born to this vessel, so automatic were his actions in maneuvering around the labyrinth. Not so, he'd only traveled the way once before, but once was enough. Blessed, or cursed with a photographic memory, he had glanced at the engineering specs before boarding and was now completely familiar with the ins and outs of the ship.

When he reached his goal, the energy converter chamber, Mart flipped on the control unit, ordering, "Lights, dimmed."

Immediately, low voltage lights flooded the area. He rushed over to a wooden carton nestled between the energy conduits. In the background the fusion reactor hummed and throbbed, powerful yet barely restrained.

No other noise disturbed the ship's inner workings. Mart ran his hand over his spiky hair. "Geez, I hope they're okay. That wormhole put out one rough ride! What am I gonna do if --"

He couldn't stand the suspense. On his knees, he released the catch on the carton, then lifted the top off. Inside were two motionless chickens, lying limp against each other.

Mart sat Indian-style and picked up Henrietta. "C'mon, girl, you gotta come through for me. C'mon, give me what for. Let me know just how pissed off you are!"

The chicken remained slack. He stroked her soft, warm feathers. "Hey, you don't have Beta-Siwinski Disease! Those vibrations weren't that bad."

As if appreciating his joke, Henrietta's fleshy crest wobbled and she cocked her little head at him.

"Attagirl! I knew I could count on you. Now you, Cluck, how about a nice treat?"

He lifted the other chicken and set her down on his lap. "Girls, just look at this alfalfa meat 'n soybean meal I have for you."

With a quick flick of the wrist, Mart reached inside his supply bag, then covered a portion of the metallic floor with poultry feed. The chickens, now both alert, clucked and scrambled down to the food.

He threw down another handful of soybean meal. "There's plenty more where this came from. You girls can peck to your heart's content."

Satisfied that his chickens were okay, at least for now, he leaned against the energy conduit and sighed. Five more wormholes to look forward to. Geez.

Henrietta and Cluck-Cluck weren't the only girls he had to worry about. Sam had also looked about as healthy as the underside of a rock. Although he would razz her, the poor kid would fuss and bother about him instead of taking care of herself.

Suddenly a revelation burst inside him. Now revved up for action, he cleaned out the chicken waste from the carton. He was the reason Sam slaved away at that unicopter factory instead of pursuing her own interests. He knew she hated the work, though she'd never admit it. Not enough money in the Humanities, she would say to explain her decision.

She was always anxious about money. Great slugs, their parents' insurance had left them sitting pretty, didn't it? Didn't it? Maybe not. Funny time for him to ask questions. Why had he been so complacent before?

"I messed up, girls. Sam's chewin' on her nails over finances, while I sit fat 'n ignorant. Fine brother I've been."

He scooped up the chickens and placed them back inside the container. "Gotta go, luvs. If I know Sam, she's searchin' for me even now. It wouldn't do for her or Fredd to discover our little secret, but I couldn't leave you behind, now could I?"

Henrietta and Cluck-Cluck objected to their imprisonment but they'd get over it. Mart fondly patted the box. "Hey, if they found out, they might insist we have chicken almondine for dinner instead of that tasteless pap Fredd serves."

Mart fumbled with the control unit, then commanded, "Lights, off." Immediately, the energy converter chamber was blanketed in darkness. "Girls, I'll visit after the next wormhole, promise."

Mission accomplished, he made his way through the maze back to the main corridor. As he did, he kept his fingers crossed. If miracles did happen, if he really could be cured of his affliction, then he'd make another promise. He'd promise God above that he'd somehow make good on all the years Sam had worried over him, taken care of him.

He tugged on a clump of his hair. Miracles did happen; he knew that for a fact. Just yesterday, he had studied quantum mechanics and astro-engineering; tedious subjects that he understood better than his professors. Today he was spiraling toward the center of the galaxy, headed for the Galactic Core Coalition and the fabled planet Xaspaar. Who could say what fantastic opportunities awaited him...and Sam?

His sister was an uncommon beauty; he always gave her a hard time, but she was one okay gal. No one measured up to his Sam. She deserved a life of ease, free from everyday anxieties, such as how far could she stretch her meager paycheck?

Mart smiled grimly. When he was whole again, nothing would get in his way. He'd stop at nothing to make sure that Sam had the chance to shine as she was meant to.

CHAPTER THREE

The year 2452 saw the Galactic Core Coalition -- the GCC -- expand to include fifteen distinct life entities, populating over three billion worlds. Of these fifteen members, Humankind was the most prolific and popular...much to the annoyance of the Uortzks, an older, more advanced race indigenous to the Milky Way Core.

When these Terrans, hailing from the spiral arm of the galaxy, first arrived, the Uortzks ignored the young upstarts. They continued about their business, intimidating the inhabited worlds of their stellar neighborhood.

This was their first mistake.

It was the Humans who organized the GCC with its philosophy based upon mutual need and respect. They instituted fair-minded policies and regulations to determine standards of conduct. "Govern, Communicate, and Cooperate" became the GCC's motto.

This emphasis on tolerance and partnership further enraged the Uortzks, whose previous despotic rule chaffed the other alien members. In protest of Terran intrusion, the Uortzks boycotted the first Coalition Council meeting.

That was their second mistake.

As a result, the Uortzks lost their position as galactic leaders, relegating the post to Humankind. For over two hundred years this secondary status rankled them.

The Uortzks were proud, analytical beings. But desperation has always been known to cloud even the most logical minds. Regretfully, they were on their way to making their third and final mistake.

In the great Council chamber on the Core's main world of Xaspaar, JorVaal 5 Lanquist rested his elbow on the plastic polymer table and cupped his chin in his hand. Bored, he let his attention wander. Filled with representatives from most of the galaxy's member civilizations the chamber buzzed with discordant sounds from vocal cords, breathing apparatuses, and various vibrations from bodily orifices.

The current speaker, a Human from the fourth planet in the Deneb system, Cygnus sector, was griping about static interference on their radio waves. Evidently the colonist children of Deneb 4 were having trouble watching kiddy entertainment on their viewers.

JorVaal yawned. Surely that was not a matter for the GCC Council?

All eyes and other sensory organs turned toward him. The man, Christopher Bainbridge, must have finished his discourse. "Thank you for your observations, citizen. My deputy will research the matter for you." JorVaal nodded at the assembly. "Next."

As one of the members of the GCC triumvirate, it was his turn to preside over the monthly meeting. Usually he did not mind, but today, listening to complaint after complaint, was tedious in the extreme. With so much work waiting for him, he itched for activity. His discontent was difficult to contain and he shifted position on the hard chair. Something important bothered him; something that had to do with Pent'.

Instead of paying attention to the new speaker, JorVaal steadily regarded his arch- nemesis, Pent', also seated at the table. His turn to officiate in the Council chamber was next month. So what was he doing here today?

"At the Uortzk, you stare too much," wheezed Liisan in her cautionary way.

JorVaal gazed down at the Yeamonl situated next to him. Her squat body was extended to its highest position, reaching a mere fifteen centimeters above the table. She could not have registered her disapproval of his behavior more clearly than if she had projected the words.

"Apologies, Liisan. I am perplexed at Pent's appearance here --"

"We object!"

Over the language converter system the raucous tones of the Uortzk bombarded each member's auditory function. In JorVaal's case, his ears rang.

Pent' rose up to his impressive height and, with claws extended, pointed an imperious, hairy paw. "The mighty JorVaal dishonors us with his...inattentiveness."

Liisan released her stored-up air, plainly shocked at the attack.

Of course JorVaal could not let the challenge pass. But, to be truthful, Pent' was correct. Matching the Uortzk's sarcastic tone, JorVaal said, "My pardons to this great assemblage and to the most exalted Pent'. I do not have an excuse. The day grows long and we have not taken an intermission for either sustenance or pleasure."

All members save one murmured their concurrence. The daily break for food and copulation were biological urges difficult to ignore. In fact, JorVaal's stomach did rumble a protest, although he had not yet decided on a partner for coitus.

Pent' saw through JorVaal's diversion. Shaking his massive head the Uortzk roared, "We cannot comprehend the conduct of this chamber. Allowing the weaknesses of the flesh to take preference over important concerns of the GCC? With all due respect, we believe the mighty JorVaal makes a mockery of our Council. Case in point, where is his second-in-command? His so-called deputy?"

By JorVaal's side, Liisan hissed in unease. "Careful, you must be. Discredit you, Pent' intends."

Even without the Yeamonl's telepathic abilities, JorVaal was aware of the danger. He stood, then pulled down the bottom of his tunic shirt. "Citizens, as I informed you all at the beginning of the meeting, Fredd Desilva, our ambassador from Alvitar and also my deputy, has taken personal leave. Liisan, from Yeamon, has graciously accepted his duties until he is with us again."

JorVaal consulted the timepiece attached to his shirt. "As I recall, Pent', you joined us late."

The rebuke did not deter the Uortzk. "When? When does Desilva get back from his travels?"

Flipping on an automatic timer, JorVaal then shrugged. "Fredd Desilva's return to duty is, as yet, undetermined. And now, citizens, are we in accord to adjourn the meeting until two hours hence?"

Agreement was quick and vociferous. As the triumvirate member in charge, JorVaal hammered the Council gavel on the table. "So be it. Citizens, good appetites!" The proceedings were now suspended.

Pent's hirsute face echoed his outrage, but surprisingly, he remained silent. Perhaps he knew a lost cause when he saw one. He took his place among the flurry of representatives departing the chamber and soon the noise was replaced by near- absolute quiet. The only sound JorVaal could hear was Liisan's oxygen valve vibrating as air flowed in and out.

He gathered his computer-log, then headed for the doors. "You have remained behind, Liisan. No hungers disturb you? Not for food nor sex?"

Since her native planet had twice the gravity of Xaspaar, she moved fluidly in this less dense atmosphere. He had no need to restrict the length of his stride.

"JorVaal, worried, I am. Suspects Fredd of trickery, Pent' does. Yet, some nefarious planning he does, I sense. But what?"

But what indeed? JorVaal would have to look into these matters himself. The Uortzks were a proud and dangerous race. They only had their interests at heart; the GCC meant nothing to them.

He waited for the doors to part, then allowed Liisan to exit first. Her stocky body was now stretched wider than higher. He smiled. She must have been looking forward to mating with one of her fellow Yeamonls.

As they entered the exterior corridor, lights brightened their way. To the far left a number of Human females gathered, all waiting for him, as was usual. Also usual was the women's vocal clamor to catch his attention.

Even at this distance, each and every one of their tall and sinewy forms stirred his loins. He pulled on his earlobe. Which one would he favor? A dilemma, that. JorVaal bent over to shake one of Liisan's upper limbs. "Good appetites to you, my friend. We part for now and shall meet again in two hours."

Turning toward the eager-looking group, JorVaal made his choice. He signaled to a pleasantly muscular young woman and left with her for his private quarters.

Splayed on his bed, JorVaal rose up on an elbow and grabbed a piece of orapple fruit lying on the adjoining table. He bit into it and its juicy, yet crisp meat, dribbled nectar down his chin. Annoyed at the sticky secretions, he wiped it away with a napkin, then sat up.

One hour remained until the GCC meeting re-adjourned. He had plenty of time to prepare himself and also make some inquiries into the Uortzk situation. His appetite now sated in two areas of daily biological urges, JorVaal disposed of the meal's remains down the debris chute. He hadn't invited his companion to stay and dine with him. Indeed, she hadn't expected the honor.

Rising, he entered the cleansing room and stepped into the shower stall. "Thirty-two degrees Celsius for two minutes, then twenty-three degrees for one minute," he ordered. A moderately hot stream of water engulfed him, washing away the rigors of the day.

Something Liisan had said troubled him. What was it? Ah, yes, Pent' suspected Fredd Desilva of trickery. Impossible, of course, but the Uortzk did seem inordinately interested in the Alvitan's location. Strange.

Strange too how Fredd suddenly decided to embark on this idle trip of his. Just four weeks ago, he had made plans to bring his daughter Iris to Xaspaar. Although a man of few words, Fredd had talked a blue streak with his enthusiasm -- uncommonly odd. Then from out of nowhere, he stated that he wanted to tour the blasted galaxy! Definitely out of character for Fredd and for an Alvitan.

JorVaal stepped out of the shower enclosure and lifted his arms. "Air temperature for..." He looked over his cleaned body to gauge his current wetness. "For fifty-one seconds."

With a whooshing sound, pleasantly warmed air forced from jets behind the walls dried his moisture. His hair, however, was still damp. A frown marred his lips as he flicked a comb through his somewhat receding, light brown hair. Although there was no stigma attached to baldness, he would much prefer to go to his grave with a full head of hair.

"Time," he barked.

The domicile administration unit, or DOM, mechanically intoned, "Seventeen zero three point six hours."

That much time had slipped away? Quickening his movements, JorVaal requested a fresh GCC uniform and a spritz of his favorite energizing fragrance: essences of eucalyptus, peppermint, and rosemary. Two minutes later, just as he finished attaching the timepiece to his breast, the DOM interrupted his thoughts.

"Liisan from Yeamon and Christopher Bainbridge from Deneb 4 request an audience with you, mighty JorVaal."

As a title, "the mighty JorVaal" weighed heavily on his shoulders. He constantly lived in the shadow of his illustrious ancestors -- father, grandfather, and two more up the family tree. Hence the "5" in his name. To be fair, he could tolerate the title's usage by beings that were alive. However, sycophantic behavior from mechanical entities could do nothing but irritate.

A quick review of the computer log refreshed his memory of the Denebian, Bainbridge. Static interference on planetary radio waves. Not galactic in its implications, but evidently Liisan must have thought it serious enough to disturb the reinvigoration time. JorVaal stepped into the receiving area of his quarters, which caused soft music to hum enticingly in preparation for his guests.

"Enter," he commanded.

After the door slid open, his visitors moved inside. Bainbridge walked while Liisan shuffled.

JorVaal shook the man's hand, then touched one of the Yeamonl's upper limbs. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. I fear my time is limited. I have some commitments prior to returning to the Council chamber. Will ten minutes suffice?"

"Yes, mighty JorVaal. And my humble thanks for agreeing to this intrusion." Bainbridge bowed his blonde head. "I had the supreme pleasure of encountering your interim deputy and took the liberty of informing her about Denebian concerns. We are both in accord in thinking the Uortzks are behind the increase in static interference bombarding our system."

"Indeed?" JorVaal studied the fair-haired man. The man favored a bushy mustache, an unfortunate reminder of more savage times. Age about twenty-eight, four years younger than himself, and also rigorously built. A healthy specimen of manhood, almost as all Humankind was in its natural state. Genetic altering tended to produce a vastly different, some said inferior, quality of men.

His good friend Fredd was so slender that should he venture out from the complex's huge doors, he would be blown away by one of Xaspaar's many wind storms. Christopher Bainbridge could have no fear of that occurring.

JorVaal pulled on his earlobe. Deneb, a yellowish white supergiant, lay strategically close to the Uortzk binary star system. Perhaps whatever deviousness Pent' was involved in, did affect the nearby colony of Humans. He turned to his temporary deputy.

"What say you, Liisan?" He kept his question short and to the point. Too much talking tired her.

The Yeamonl inched her way across the room. Sometimes she was as incapable of standing still as she was sitting. "Pent' disguises his thoughts, my senses indicate. Penetrate them, I cannot. Troubling. Also, JorVaal, news from Fredd, I bring."

Although gladdened by her tidings concerning Fredd, JorVaal waved that information aside for now. "I shall instruct our patrols in the Cygnus sector to be on alert for any unusual occurrences."

He clasped his hands behind his back and strode to the receiving area's large window. Xaspaar's class G sun was slowly setting in the west. Its normally golden rays refracted through the atmosphere, turning the deepening azure skies pink and orange. An inspiring sight. Even he, native to Xaspaar, delighted in nature's artistic canvas of colors.

"Thank you, sir," began Bainbridge, "I will inform my people --"

"No. Under the Uortzk Agreement, any member of the GCC cannot specifically observe another member's movements. If you do relay back to Deneb 4 about the alert, should Pent' become privy to it, he will assume his race is the focal point. Then he will register a protest which will set back relations between our two groups." Interplanetary relations were touch and go at best.

"Precisely," wheezed Liisan.

Bainbridge fingered the high neck on his tunic shirt. "Forgive me, sir, my intent was not to create an incident."

"Of course not. We will allow two weeks for my staff to 'research' your dilemma, after which time the GCC patrols can be made common knowledge. Will that satisfy?"

"Certainly, mighty JorVaal. Again, my thanks for your indulgence." Bainbridge stepped closer to the window. "If I may ask, is this scene real or is it from virtual memory?"

As one of the triumvirate members, everything was real, if JorVaal so desired. He smiled. "This is not a virtual reality, or VR, window. It is an actual view of the sunset, citizen."

Bainbridge inclined his head. "On my world, no one has such a home as you."

No envy tainted his tone, only appreciation. The man knew his place and his limitations. Being this astute, he also was aware that it was time for him to depart.

"Felicitations, sir. May you grant me the pleasure of greeting both you and Liisan when the Council resumes."

When he left the receiving area the door swished closed behind him.

JorVaal smiled again, this time a bit sadly. He had never had a home, only quarters. Regrets? Why should he lament his situation? Regrets were for weaklings! In a louder tone than he intended, he asked of his remaining visitor, "So, what news do you bring of our Fredd Desilva? I confess I do miss his spindly appearance."

"JorVaal." Liisan started to extend her body upward, a sure sign of her disapproval.

He laughed. "Peace, good Liisan. Here, let us share some absinthe while you give me the particulars. When may we expect Fredd?"

She accepted the crystal glass and with a genteel movement, sipped some of the light green liquid. "A return to Xaspaar in eight days, Fredd anticipates."

"So soon? Did he mention why he is cutting short his sightseeing trip?"

JorVaal's sarcasm was not lost on the Yeamonl. Her squat body teetered on rising, however the liqueur must have made her mellow. "No explanation except to say two Terrans, he brings."

"Terrans?" Not by design, some liquid sputtered out of JorVaal's mouth, settling on his chest. "By all the stars, why in Xaspaar's good name would he travel to the very brink of galaxy's end to procure those..."

Words, always readily available, now failed him. "Those...Earthers."

His now stained uniform enraged him further. "What mole-maggot has seized Fredd's brain?"

She was gracious enough to ignore that rhetorical question. "Indicate his travel path, he did not. Where he encountered Terrans, we cannot be certain." Her pause admonished him. "Why you Humans, formerly of Terra, should cast aspersions on its inhabitants and its culture, I fail to comprehend."

In all the time JorVaal knew Liisan, she had never registered interest about that particular aspect of Human behavior. But now, the nuances in her breathing patterns revealed intense curiosity.

He shrugged out of his shirt and ordered a clean one. So, Liisan and her telepathic associates could not understand the animosity between the two groups. Well, to be factual, it was only animosity on the part of the Core people. It was obvious, really. Terra and its natives, stuck in the primordial mud of birth, lived in the past. When it became time to break free from the bonds of childhood, Earthers had failed the test into adulthood. They took only baby steps, journeying to Terra's satellite, and a braver few to the other solar planets.

The majority of Humankind however, had embraced the adventure of interstellar travel. Over three hundred years ago billions of colonists had left, never to look back. Indeed, nothing that Terra offered could tempt any Core member to return. The infinite worlds of the galaxy lay here, as did the glorious future of Humankind.

Outside of biology, Earthers and Core members had nothing in common.

Properly dressed again, JorVaal made a small bow to his visitor. "Apologies for my display of emotion, Liisan. I expect it would be difficult for your people to understand these sentiments, although among ourselves, the differences are painfully obvious. Earthers represent the raw, uncivilized nature of Humankind. Contact with them can be unsettling. We, here on Xaspaar and throughout the galaxy Core, have evolved beyond our primitive beginnings. We represent a change for the better, while they are doomed to play out their lives in an endless rut bounded by a few million kilometers of space." He tugged on his earlobe. "Small, petty people. The puzzle is why Fredd would desire contact at all. What possible purpose could these Earthers serve?"

"A greater one than you know, perhaps, JorVaal. In Yeamonl philosophy, all things are conceivable." She yawned. "What of your Triumvirate Liaison, Mirabelle? A trip she also requested, I hear. Return soon as well, does she?"

Mirabelle Kingsley had the momentous job of communicating Human concerns to the other two members of the triumvirate: Pent' and Eglan, the Wn-Ganite. Each member had their own liaison, however Mirabelle, with her friendly manner and enterprising ways, was easily the one most preferred by all three men.

JorVaal smiled. She had also proved to be very skillful during reinvigoration time. Although, as of late, she had exhibited the repugnant trait of possessiveness.

"Mirabelle expects to arrive tomorrow at daybreak. Her journey however, is not by request, but an assignment by last month's Council. She traveled to Wn-Gan to represent Human interests in the Olympic Trials."

"Understood." Waving her upper limb, Liisan signaled departure. "And now, take my leave, I must. Your duties, you have, and I mine. Until the meeting re-adjourns."

Once she had gone the background music ceased in accordance with JorVaal's wishes. Only thirty five point two minutes remained with which to conduct business and also reflect. He quickly transmitted instructions to the Core patrol in Cygnus sector, as he had mentioned his intent to the Denebian. Further, using the encryptocron, he directed his on-site aides to keep a watch on the Uortzk contingent presently housed in Xaspaar City.

More inquiries demanded his attention, so he perused through the computer log and distributed the duties accordingly.

With six minutes until the hour, he finally sank into his vibro-chair to receive a full- body massage. However, neither the rubdown nor another glass of absinthe soothed his troubled thoughts. Of course, foremost on his mind was Pent' and whatever trouble he was planning. But the mystery concerning Fredd irritated him.

In truth, he did not have long to wait until he received the answer to his latter concern. Fredd would, most likely, have a logical explanation. That aside, there was one thing that JorVaal was certain of. He absolutely refused to have any contact, in any form, with those two offensive Earthers.

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