The Trill

Of course Trill isn't really their true name. When they pronounce their name it sounds like a soft whirring sound, a trill if you will. There is no translation that makes any sense in any human language. But never mind trying to get close enough to one to for it to 'talk' to you, it won't happen. Ever.

Well, almost not ever. One human has managed to do it so far and this is his unlikely story.

--------------------------

The Trill have been around far longer than the human race and are as advanced and intelligent as you might imagine, probably more than you might imagine. A very secretive and distinctly odd bunch, they avoid confrontations or even contact whenever possible. They are spread across the breadth of this galaxy and are beyond a doubt the most powerful and advanced civilization, although you might overlook them entirely if they have their way. They almost always have their way.

Perhaps it is their physical form that accounts for their passive and non-aggressive behavior as a species. In all truth they present a perfectly absurd picture when first glimpsed, or for that matter any other time you might catch sight of them. If you can, imagine a bird-like creature without the wings. Two rearward bending legs ending in slender padded and prehensile feet, four toes - two facing forward, two back. Two joint-less rubbery arms ending in four equally flexible 'fingers.' A body shaped like a pear topped with a tiny head sprouting two large black eyes capable of looking in different directions at the same time; a sharp pointed 'beak' not unlike a sparrow's. A Trill's considerable brain is not located in its small head but is safely tucked away in its lower body. They are never any taller than three feet and are covered with what at first glance appears to be fine, interwoven feathers. Coloration is whatever you can imagine, or try to. Most are a good imitation of a large, long legged and tail-less canary subjected to hard radiation before birth (hatching). A penguin is absolutely regal and dignified in comparison. They have only one sex but still need to exchange DNA before conceiving. They do indeed lay eggs, or at least one egg sort of thing, that is. Their family relations, social rankings and politics are complex beyond trying to explain so no attempt will be made to do so.

The Trills ancestors were tree dwelling, communal creatures that relied on their keen senses and quick-to-flee nervous behavior to survive. In time they evolved considerable wits and used them to finally dominate the planet of their origin and then eventually to move out to the stars. Carefully and with extreme caution they moved out to the stars. They do everything that way. They never lost their quick-to-flee behavior. You might call them total cowards but they would reply that they were simply being prudent and sensible.

Assuming you could ever talk to one.

Since the first days that they made the move into interstellar space the Trill have been searching for and utilizing other beings to do their 'dirty work.' To the Trill 'dirty work' was anything involving risk, be it exploration or war. They were not by nature an aggressive or cruel society, quite the opposite. But the universe is so very big and so very dangerous. The last war the Trill were involved in was conducted almost entirely by their robotic forces and employed their total and overwhelming scientific prowess. Thirty-seven of the worlds inhabited by the very nasty creatures that had moved against the Trill civilization simply ceased to exist.

Still, they really would rather someone else got their hands dirty and took all of the risks, no matter how slight. The few races that the Trill did employ were only deemed adequate for limited tasks; more versatile 'employees' were always being sought out. The Trill found the very concept of slavery or domination of other races abhorrent. Sensible business partners were what they were always looking for.

Then they chanced upon Earth.

(Translated, of course)

"They would seem the perfect blend, impressive physically but still with a modicum of intelligence. Their technology is sufficiently primitive to make that a strong bargaining point for us." Nestkeeper was making his/her/its case before the Committee.

"I am concerned with their propensity for violence, for war." Seedpicker fluffed his/her/its neck feathers in a clear sign of disapproval.

"We have killed many ourselves, from afar."

"True, in self defense. But these humans are so very large, so physically powerful."

"But adequately intelligent. They make such beautiful music." Nestkeeper voiced what they all had learned; the observations of the remote probes had sent back such wonderful recordings of their music and confusing entertainment forms.

"May I suggest a sensible course?" Highperch softly entered the conversation and all paused to listen to the elderly and senior member of the Committee.

"Indeed, Honored One. We all attend you," replied Nestkeeper with a properly deep head dip.

"Procure one of their young, an immature specimen that might be more pliant and safer to keep. For study and then perhaps for training as an envoy, a messenger of our good intentions."

"Indeed, Honored One. Such a course of action was in my thoughts also."

Nestkeeper was for now only the junior member of the ruling Committee but he/she/it still wielded immense power and moved to act on the suggestion.

A standard robotic collection probe was dispatched toward Earth within the day's remaining light, the first of many. The probe would not collect a "specimen" this trip, nor for about fifty years to come. There was much to prepare for before actually obtaining a young human. A need to have compatible foods, many more DNA samples, scores of things to consider and research. In time they would deem themselves ready to receive and care for one young human, prudent and cautious as always.

The Trill did not indeed have any thoughts of dominating or harming the creatures that called themselves "humans." Perhaps a working arrangement might be reached, beneficial to both parties. One immature specimen would surely not be missed from so crowded of a planet.

Chapter One,

Taken

It was Friday night and as usual they were at it again.

"I'm outta here!" Peter Hanson sighed, sat up and then turned on the small lamp beside his rumpled bed. Time to get up and get out or spend the rest of the night listening to the shouts and screams, listening to the awful things they called each other these days. He loved both of his parents but he also hated them when they got like this. Lately they were always like this. It had started in earnest when Peter's mother had started bringing home more money than his father did. His mother had finally obtained her long delayed degree in business administration and that now made all of the difference in the paychecks. Sometimes it is a hard thing for the male ego to accept.

Sleeping bag. School backpack full of stashed edibles, flashlight, radio, GameBoy. Batteries swiped out of the drawer in the kitchen. A Bic lighter for the campfire. He had done it all before, his parents would know where he would be; they would always say they were sorry in the morning. Peter was only ten but lately he was feeling more like he was ten-going-on-seventy.

It was still summer, school didn't start for another two weeks so a night under the stars was no problem. Peter peeked into his little sister's room as he padded down the hall; four-year-old Dianne was sound asleep as usual. He had always felt very protective towards the annoying little pest, lately even more so.

"Cripes! She could sleep through an asteroid impact!" He said quietly as he closed the girl's door. "Wish I could."

His parents wouldn't have noticed a zebra passing briefly within their sight and Peter wasn't anywhere near as conspicuous as a zebra.

"Have a nice night," he whispered as he closed the back door on the shouting and headed off into the warm darkness.

Peter's family made their home in the rural foothills east of Red Bluff, in northern California. They had no nearby neighbors so the boy had grown up mostly having to entertain his self when at home, no other boys to goof off with. He had once managed to get on one of the local Little League teams, at least for a short while. He was a pretty good player but they had dropped him from the team for missing too many practice sessions and games; two working parents and the long drive to practice had accounted for that. He didn't really blame his parents; life is hard sometimes.

A rocky outcropping was the boy's destination as he walked carefully while sweeping the flashlight from side to side. This was rattlesnake country and you had better be careful where you put your feet, or any other part of your anatomy. A careful check showed Peter's 'fort' to be clear of any reptiles out looking for field mice or perhaps a hot date on this warm night.

"Screw the fire." Peter was tired and sleepy and it was after midnight. In moments he was partially inside the light sleeping bag and in a few more moments he was asleep.

Of course you know by now that to say that Peter was in the wrong place at the wrong time would be a monumental understatement.

------------------------------

Trill Home World (no translation exists for the planet's name) "The parameters are correct, I venture to suggest we take this specimen." Nestkeeper was older and more senior now, in another few hundred years he/she/it might be most senior. The Trill live for a very long time, it comes from being cautious and prudent and very, very smart.

Peter and several dozen other young people around the planet had been under periodic observation for some time now. Real-time observations relayed through the odd reality of the non-space that the Trill technology provided. If the boy had been awake and looking directly overhead he might have detected a dark round area free of stars, the area occupied by the probe.

"Agreed. Use care." Highperch did not have many years left but still commanded the total obedience of all in the Committee.

"We have well prepared that no harm will come to the specimen, Honored One. Great care will be taken."

-------------------------

"Dad?" Peter thought that the odd light in his eyes was his father come to chase him back to the house, maybe with a whack on the head to make his point. But there was no answer and no whack as the boy sat up. There was no answer as he felt a slight tingle on the side of his neck. There was no answer as blackness enveloped him and all thought ceased.

Everything that the boy possessed was gathered up by the hovering spheres. The devices seemed capable of sprouting as many metallic tentacles as the job required. Three of the basketball-sized devices gently lifted the boy and his sleeping bag and rose swiftly into the probe that hovered silently almost a thousand feet above the collection site. The collection probe was gone from Earth's proximity in moments to rendezvous with the larger transport probe, a bit later they were gone altogether.

The crossing would take a good six months in the manner that humans reckoned time but Peter would know none of it. To move physical objects through non-space required much more time than the instant movement of mere data. The boy would not wake or dream, he would not breath, need to go pee or age for a second. He was locked in a field of what might best be described as modified gravity waves that stopped all activity on the atomic level; time itself would be without meaning. If the trip took a million years it would make no difference. When the boy finally awoke he would be in a far place, taken from the world he had known, apart from all humanity.

Twelve thousand light years from Red Bluff and the dreaded start of the next school year.

Where he was going no one would be screaming and cursing.

Except perhaps for Peter.

---------------------------

"It went well, the specimen is safely in the field chamber and without any apparent injury." Nestkeeper dared to slightly fluff his/her/its chest feathers, a minor gesture of confidence and self-assurance.

"Then let us retire to contemplate what we have done."

Highperch's answer was expected and proper, they all did indeed now need to stop and consider what was next.

---------------------------

Peter wasn't missed until the icy silence at the breakfast table was broken.

"Where's your brother?" Jacob Hanson pointedly asked the tiny girl sitting to his left.

"I dunno. He didn't help me dress this morning." Dianne had on her pajama bottoms and an inside out and backwards Raiders T-shirt that needed washing.

Four hours later Jacob called 911 and told them his son was missing. The man had known where to look and could see the fresh footprints left by his son's Nikes. The tracks led into the boy's rocky fort but did not exit.

911 was a waste of time. Peter was light years beyond any search and rescue effort.

Chapter Two

Specimen

Peter was moved from the probe ship to the research facility by more of the floating, robotic handlers. There was just the tiniest possibility that he might awake prematurely from the sedative administered on Earth; a risk that the Trill of course would not take. The sedative was after all based only on DNA samples and projected effects; even the Trill sometimes took a best guess and just forged ahead.

The research facility itself was located beneath an isolated valley on the Trill home world, a planet that more resembled an enormous green and very well manicured park. The planet had long ago been a great and complex city-world but time and outward migration had allowed it to be gradually altered to its now tranquil state. The relatively few Trill who now inhabited the world were for the most part the ruling elite and the intelligentsia of the far-flung civilization. All support facilities had been moved underground so as not to intrude on the delicate sensibilities of the Trill.

And of course now the planet was so very, very safe. You would be very hard pressed to find a sharp rock to step on.

Holdsleaf (the names are only approximations) was a senior member of the alien species studies group and had been placed in full charge of the 'human project.' It was a matter of great pride to Holdsleaf that Nestkeeper, a Committee Member, kept in almost constant contact as the venture proceeded.

"The human is safely in the observation unit and additional sedation has been administered."

"And the initial examination?" Nestkeeper wished to be present but it would be looked upon as unseemly for a Committee member.

"Is to begin in a few moments, Honored One."

"Inform me of any significant difficulties."

"Of course, Honored One."

It was one thing to view and analyze data sent from remote probe craft, it was something else altogether to have a living and breathing alien being to scan, poke and prod. A great deal of dithering and nervousness would ensue in the process. The initial examinations and all contact would of course be done with robotic devices; caution always prevailed.

----------------------------------

Peter lay unconscious on his back atop a very soft and comfortable white platform; indeed the whole enclosure was a brightly lit soft white. Very soft and comfortable restraints circled his ankles, wrists, waist, and his neck. The restraints could restrain an enraged elephant if need be; the Trill always seemed to over-design things on the side of safety.

"The specimen's protective fabric coverings and its foot sheaths must first be removed," Holdsleaf said softly to the assembled group of researchers. The Trill had never developed a need for clothing and the proper terms were not a matter of any importance to them. After a moment small floating devices resembling miniature flashlights began moving smoothly over the boy; slicing through everything that was not human DNA as if there was nothing at all to impede them. Other devices snatched away what was left of Peter's clothing and what little remained of his dignity as a human being.

No spot on the boy was overlooked or not subjected to being measured, scanned, sampled, probed, discussed and dithered over. His teeth caused the most serious alarm; they were so very big and obviously were designed to handle more than just proper plant food. They already knew from past probe data that the specimen was an omnivore; besides plant life it also ate animal flesh. It was enough to make a person's feathers fall out.

Estimates were made of the human's potential overall adult strength and that totally appalled the small group of feathered scientists. A tiny implant was inserted at the base of the boy's brain; the small incision healed and closed in seconds. It was a failsafe device that when activated would paralyze the human's voluntary muscles. It was a sort of 'off switch' if the human became dangerous and out of control.

Finally Peter stirred just a little, his right hand making a loose fist.

"Remove the examination devices, the human is beginning to move beyond the sedative." Holdsleaf's caution extended to the specimen's mental health also; awakening bound and exposed to a multitude of sharp and pointy looking floating objects could frighten anyone or anything.

"Remove the restraints also, the containment area will safely hold it."

-------------------------

Peter finally managed to open one eye a little but the blinding whiteness immediately squinted it shut. The reaction was not lost on the Trill.

"Reduce the illumination fifty points." Holdsleaf's quite order was instantly complied with.

In a few seconds Peter again ventured another step into consciousness, this time both of his eyes remained open.

"Dad?" It was the last thought that he had in his head and now it still was; for Peter no time at all had passed. Of course his question was instantly translated, the years of exploration probes had provided far more than enough information to program the speech devices.

"It is confused, it asks for its male-sex-parent." Quickhop explained to his/her/its superior.

"I do have functional eyes and ears!" Holdsleaf replied with a sharp beak-click of reproach.

Peter curled up on his right side for a time, his eyes once again tightly closed as the effects of the sedative lingered. It was another hour before he stirred enough to come mostly wake and then sit up. He was in an almost featureless white, dome-shaped room, he was bare-assed naked and his head really hurt.

At first he thought he might be in a hospital; maybe a rattler had bit him? The air smelled a little funny too, sort of like new mown grass or something. The bed-thing felt soft and warm, almost alive in a way.

"Hello?" It was loud, but not a shout. No one answered the boy. Not yet.

"Shit! What's going on?" Tears were close at hand by now, Peter felt abandoned. Maybe he was dead and this was heaven or something? Maybe it was hell?

"Where am I?" This time it was a true scream. The Trill were not really aware that a human was capable of such volume, much less an immature human. Dithering occurred.

Holdsleaf finally activated the communication link.

"Young human. Be calm. No harm will come to you here."

"What?" Another scream, almost without thought.

"You are safe in this place. Calm yourself and know that no danger exists for you here."

"Where the hell is here?" Peter wasn't much given to using bad language but this was sort of an extreme situation.

"You have been selected as a… representative of your kind. To aid in the contact between our two civilizations."

This was not making its way into Peter's confused skull at all.

"Who are you for Chrissakes? Where are you?" Another scream, perhaps by now a few decibels lower.

"We are… Trill. Thinking beings like you. Please try to calm yourself, we mean you no harm at all."

Peter was silent for a time, his pulse racing. By now he was standing shakily beside the soft platform, his nakedness no longer of any importance to him. For some abstract reason he took note that the oddly textured floor also felt soft and warm.

"What the hell is a Trill? Where are you?" The calm and melodic reply of the communication link seemed to the boy to be coming from all directions.

"In time we will be with you, for now you must regain your reason and accept that we will never do you any harm."

For a few more moments Peter was silent, trying to cope with this insane place. Then a more basic need became painfully apparent to the boy.

"I really gotta go pee!" There seemed no exit from this place; there was absolutely no commode in sight.

The Trill dithered over this new development for a short time; they always dithered about everything.

"Body wastes may be deposited in the human toilet unit."

"What the …?" Peter's words were halted when a very good copy of an ordinary ceramic toilet seemed to melt through the far wall with seamless ease. There was even a roll of toilet 'paper' attached to it.

"Jesus!" Peter was beyond shock and fright by now, but he still needed to pee really bad so he did. The toilet even flushed when he automatically pressed the handle. Of course his urine was then subjected to further analysis, everything would be, even his breath.

After moving slowly around the small room and touching and pressing on the soft curved walls, the boy finally sat on the edge of the bed thing and tried to make sense out of what was happening. After some more time he spoke again. The Trill were anxiously waiting for any sort of response from the young human.

"Where am I… really?" It was almost a whisper.

"Young human…"

"My name is Peter!" He interrupted, a little louder this time.

"Peter. Thank you. My name is Holdsleaf." The Trill sensed that a small breakthrough might occur. "You are at a far place from your own planet, your own home. This is so very difficult for you; we understand that and will do our best to help you to cope with this new place. You are on the home world of the Trill, another planet, another sun."

"But…how? Why?" A small sob finally made its way to the surface of his composure. By now Peter was huddled in a small bundle on the bed thing, his legs drawn up to his chest with his arms around them. This was all so totally nuts.

"We only wish to make contact with humans, for the benefit of both of our kind. We thought that a young person would be the best to initiate that contact. We are truly and sincerely sorry for the distress that you are undergoing."

"How long have I been asleep?"

"You have been in…suspension for the voyage, not asleep."

"How long?"

"In your manner of reckoning time, one-hundred and eighty-three days have elapsed."

"Oh God!" His folks must think he was dead or something.

It was a good five minutes before Peter could manage to stop blubbering and voice a coherent reply.

"Then why am I being kept in this stupid place? Where are you?"

"We thought that a soft and calm place would be the best beginning. We are in body and form very different from you, we did not want to alarm or further upset you by being in your presence." Also they were scared perfectly silly at the idea of being in the same room with such a powerful physical specimen of unknown predictability.

"When can I go home?"

"In time you will be returned to your people, do not ever doubt that. For now we need your patience and good will. It is a hard thing for you and we know that. Will you help us in this effort?" Holdsleaf risked all of the progress on this question, but the risk was worth it.

"Okay. If I get to go home later." It was a simple and honest reply, softly spoken.

What else could he have said?

"Thank you, Peter. For now can we do anything at all to make you more comfortable?"

"I'm naked. Where are my clothes?"

Nudity was at best an abstract concept to the Trill; still they did recognize the cultural need the human expressed. After a molt the Trill wrapped them selves in a loose Cloak of Warmth, a ritual covering worn only in seclusion.

"We will provide suitable coverings for you, no insult was intended in our examination of your body. Removing your coverings was necessary."

"Examination?"

"We only wished to better provide for your well being and to better further our knowledge of your kind." No mention was made of the device that they had implanted in his skull.

"What did you do to me?"

"We only performed an assessment of your biological makeup, your needs as a sentient being."

"What's 'sentient' mean?" Most ten-year-olds are not exposed to a vocabulary that they will actually need in the years to come.

"It means self-aware, intelligent, thinking."

"Oh."

A very long pause ensued, minutes passed before any exchange. Eventually Peter broke the silence.

"I'm sort of hungry."

"Nourishment will be supplied."

"Huh?"

"We will feed you. What is your preference?"

"A Big Mac and fries. And a Coke."

"In a few moments, preparations are underway." The Trill had done a vast amount of research, not all of it making very much sense to them and not all of it correctly interpreted. For all of their intelligence they were still capable of screwing up.

"Cool."

"Cool?" The Trill had not cataloged all of humanities' slang expressions either.

"That's fine, thanks."

"You are very welcome, Peter."

"What's your name again?"

"Holdsleaf. My family is of the Maker Limb."

"Oh. Well, nice to meet you. Sort of."

"It is nice to meet you also, Peter."

"What do you look like?"

"We are very different, smaller than you are."

"Oh." That kind of helped; maybe they weren't some sort of giant spider - jellyfish thing.

"A device will enter now with your coverings, do not be alarmed by its appearance."

"Okay. We call them clothes."

"Of course, clothing. At times you must excuse our use of your language." Holdsleaf was very pleased that the subject was calming and beginning rational conversation. An aide had informed Nestkeeper of the good progress; the level of dithering by all concerned lessened just a little. All the same, Holdsleaf quivered slightly at the prospect of one day moving to the point where an actual physical meeting with the frightening creature might be needed.

Peter almost jumped over the bed-thing when a polished silver basketball seemed to pass through the solid wall. Its metal tentacles were clutching what might be some sort of light blue garment.

"Geez!" Peter backed away until he was pressed against the curving wall/ceiling while the sphere silently dropped the clothing onto the bed-thing. As silently as it had arrived the sphere then seemed to once more melt into the wall and disappear.

"What was that thing?" His question was loud but no longer a scream.

"That was just a floater, a sort of mechanical service device. It is no threat to you Peter, nothing here is."

"Oh." Peter wasn't convinced but the voice did sound reassuring. "Okay. Can I get dressed now?"

"Of course."

The boy looked around once more as if expecting something else to pop out of the walls. Even so the thought of putting something on after being so naked and exposed was enough to propel him over to the bed-thing and the 'clothing.'

"Well isn't this really special!" Peter mumbled this as he laid out the soft one-piece garment. There were just the three items, no underwear and the two shoes looked like some sort of thick socks with soft padded soles. If anything was holding true to form for this place it was 'soft.' He had on the stretchy, close fitting thing in a few seconds but closing up the front seemed a mystery. After a moment he pressed the two sides of the chest to crotch opening together, then it seemed to all melt together and become a single piece of 'cloth.' No seam, no zipper, no buttons. Now how would he ever get it open again?

"How does it open?"

"At the top, Peter. Just squeeze the neck opening at any point."

Peter tried that and the garment split again from top to bottom.

"Cool!" It was very cool. It was a major miracle to the boy.

At least now he felt a little surer of himself, not so exposed and vulnerable to prying eyes. The 'shoes' felt nice too, if a little girly looking.

"Your food is ready, once more do not be alarmed by the service unit."

"Okay." This time he held his ground as the floating orb brought in a tray sort of thing with what at first glance appeared to be indeed a Big Mac with fries and a Coke. It even had the proper looking company logo on the cup and paper wrappings. What the orb actually carried didn't quite meet specifications.

"Ewww! Gross!"

The 'meat' (if it was meat) was raw. The fries weren't fried at all.

"Peter? Is something not correct?" Holdsleaf was in full dither mode. What had been overlooked?

"The hamburger hasn't been cooked! The fries are raw potatoes!"

"Cooked?"

"Yeah! You know, heated, fried or something!"

Somewhere between the probes data and the analysis of that information there had been some minor missteps.

"We do not heat our food. Perhaps we have erred in this effort. We me mean no offense."

"I'm not offended, but can you sort of cook the meat and fries?" Peter sensed that they were really trying to be nice to him and to make him feel at ease. Still, a raw Big Mac was just too much!

"Another effort will be made. Be patient young human, this is also a new encounter for us."

"Its okay, don't worry so darned much."

Holdsleaf would have raised his/her/its eyebrows if any had existed. The human had expressed some concern about his captors. There was a measure of care and compassion behind those impressive teeth and enormous muscles. At least the teeth and muscles were impressive to the Trill; Peter was just your average kid. Black hair, gray eyes, regular features, perhaps a little on the thin side.

More time passed in silence before the reworked hamburger appeared. This time it seemed pretty close to okay as Peter took a few bites and then a sip of the Coke. The Coke tasted sort of odd but not unpleasant. The fries actually were pretty good except for needing some salt and catsup. Then Peter stopped chewing and paled, feeling sort of sweaty and dizzy. A dash to the toilet was just in time as he lost all he had just eaten.

The Trill went into full panic mode. Beyond normal dithering.

"Peter. May we help you?" Holdsleaf could see total disaster looming, exile in shame to one of the outer colonies.

"Could…could I have some water?" His mouth was as nasty as you might imagine, he had come close to passing out.

"Of course."

Water appeared in seconds filling a glass fashioned from pure carbon crystal.

"Thanks. I feel a little better now." Peter was sitting on the floor beside the toilet, trying to rinse the awful mess out of his mouth. The after-effects of the sedative and this mind-numbing new reality had simply been too much for the boy. His stomach had rebelled, nothing more.

"Perhaps further physical examination is needed. We…"

Peter cut that Trill response very short.

"No! I'm okay. I guess everything sort of was too much… too soon. Maybe if I just rest for a little while…?"

"Very well. Perhaps we have indeed proceeded too quickly. Rest for as long as you feel the need."

"Cool." Peter wobbled over to the bed and curled up on it. Maybe a short catnap would be nice.

He woke up five hours later. This time he would keep down his breakfast of Cheerios with milk and orange juice. At least it looked like Cheerios and orange juice, mostly.

Holdsleaf would be in better shape also.

----------------------------

Red Bluff California, five months earlier Jacob Hanson was being treated as if he had done away with his only son. There were no other suspects, in fact there were no clues beyond the scent trail the dogs had followed, and then lost.

"Peter is my son, you sick bastard! You haven't clue one, no one does!"

"You have admitted that the boy has spent other nights away from the house because of the situation between you and your wife?" The deputy sheriff had gone over this a dozen times.

"Yes! That doesn't mean I don't love him, you dipshit!"

Jacob Hanson had been questioned on and off for days, so had his wife. The local news media were making veiled references as to their suitability as parents. But in truth there were no clues, nothing but a set of footprints and a fading scent trail. It was as if a UFO had snatched Peter off the face of the Earth.

--------------------------

"Will I have to stay in here all of the time?" Aliens or not, the boy was getting really fed up with being in this one small 'room'

"No Peter, better quarters are waiting for you. There will be a space on the surface for you to use also."

"The surface?"

"Yes. This facility is located below ground so as not to disturb the peace and beauty of the world above."

"Oh." He was underground!

"When can I see you?"

"Soon. We both know the results of proceeding too quickly."

"Yeah. Sorry I barfed like that."

"Barfed?"

"You know, lost my lunch. Upchucked. Spewed chunks."

"Vomited?"

"Yeah."

"It was not in your control, no apology is needed."

"Can you see me all of the time?"

"Yes Peter."

"Oh."

"Is something not correct?"

"I have to go poop. Do you have to watch?"

"Poop?"

"Yes! You know, solid waste disposal. Shit." Peter felt perfectly silly.

"Yes. Poop. Shit. Thank you. There is no need for modesty." The concept of modesty was not alien to the Trill but really did not extend to human specimens.

"Easy for you to say!"

"We are aware of the major functions of your body. Be at ease."

"Man!" Peter resigned himself to always being under a magnifying glass. Watching eyes or not he really had to poop so he did. As quickly and as modest as conditions permitted. Which is to say, not very modest at all.

"There's no way to wash my hands or to take a shower in here." Like most boys Peter wasn't a particularly fastidious person but the absence of soap and water and the devices to put them to use was sort of disconcerting.

"In the adjoining rooms, Peter."

"What?"

"Behind you."

The "better quarters" were now a reality. An oval door had appeared in the wall, objects were in view beyond that door, "Cool!"

-----------------------

"This is nice!" Peter was soaking in a bathtub large enough to accommodate several more full-size humans. The Trill had other methods for their own bathing but had at least got this one detail right. There was even a shower nozzle.

"We are pleased that you enjoy it, Peter." All of the Trill were very disconcerted with the human method of immersion in water to bathe. A person could drown in such large quantities of water.

The boy's expanded quarters were a vast improvement over his first accommodations. There was a large living room sort of area, complete with some sort of giant video display that had non-space relayed programs from Earth. The bathroom was, well, opulent sort of describes it. There was even a dining area. In all of the rooms there did not seem to be a single straight line or hard edge on anything. Soft and safe.

More clothing had been delivered, in as many colors as there are. Peter was becoming a prune in the warm bath so he finally decided to dry off and get dressed. Wandering into the living area he encountered the first of so very many tests he would be asked to perform.

"What are those?" He was looking at a collection of gray metal spheres resting in the middle of the floor.

"Simple weights, Peter." Holdsleaf explained, hoping that the human would cooperate.

"For what?"

"We were hoping to better gauge your strength by having you lift, or try to lift the various weights."

"Okay. Sure."

"Could you begin with the smallest and progress as you can to the larger ones. Do not injure yourself if the weight seems too much to lift."

"No problem."

The smallest weight was about the size of a baseball and would have needed both hands and some serious effort from an adult Trill to lift it. Peter plucked it easily off the floor with one hand and tossed it up and down gently, testing its heft. It felt like it might be solid aluminum or some other light metal.

"Extraordinary!" Holdsleaf exclaimed to the other researchers. Dithering occurred as usual.

By the time that Peter had managed to lift the largest of the weights with some considerable grunting and puffing, the Trill were ready to molt (they do molt after a fashion, after mating and when under great duress).

"Thank you, Peter. Are you all right?"

"Sure. Is that all you wanted me to do?"

"Yes, for now. Again, thank you."

"You're welcome. Can I watch the TV thing for a while?"

"Certainly."

Chapter Three Testing "Peter?"

"Ummm?" Peter was never a person to come awake in the morning very quickly.

"It is a new day, Peter."

"Crap. Okay." He slowly managed to focus and sit up in the bed that he had come to appreciate so very much. However the bed was constructed was a mystery to the boy, the fact that it seemed to flow and conform to his every contour made for an extremely comfortable night.

"We thought that today it might be time for you to progress to the surface, to explore the area that has been set aside for your use." Holdsleaf had over the days grown to care about this 'specimen' more than he/she/it had expected to. Some sort of loose bond had been established between the two very diverse beings.

"I get to go outside?" Peter was now fully awake.

"Yes, Peter. We are by nature very cautious, perhaps this should have been arranged sooner."

"Yeah, but that's okay! What's for breakfast?"

"As you specified, french toast, bacon and eggs."

"Cool!" Cholesterol content was of little concern to Peter and was something that the Trill had not fully researched.

Peter wasted few motions as he dashed for the 'bathroom' and performed the usual chores. Then he quickly dressed and made for the dining area.

"This syrup is pretty lame, but the rest is okay."

"Lame, Peter?"

"It should be sort of sweet, not just brown and sticky." Human cuisine would always be a learning experience for the Trill.

"Sweet. Higher sugar content?"

"I guess. Don't get too worried about it."

"No, Peter. Thank you."

-----------------------------

Whatever it was that took Peter to the surface seemed to have moved fast for long enough for him to decide that he had been indeed very far underground. The world that opened up outside of the door was so very green and alive.

"Wow!" It was barely said at all, more of a thought than anything.

"Be at ease here, Peter. You are perfectly safe, there are no threats in this place." Holdsleaf tended to repeat the obvious over and over. Peter had yet to encounter anything at all that was a danger or threat to him.

By now Peter had edged out of the elevator thing and into the manicured green of a world that was familiar yet alien. With a slight hiss the round cylinder that was the elevator housing sank back into the ground. Its top was covered with the green ground cover and when it leveled with the ground you could not tell that it had ever existed.

"Cool!"

"What is cool, Peter?" Holdsleaf's voice as always seemed to be all around him.

"The way it disappeared like that. And by the way, how can you talk to me and see me out here?"

"There are small observation devices all around in the foliage. Sound is projected and focused from these same devices."

"Oh." Peter decided not to press the issue; by now he was getting used to being watched all of the time.

Holdsleaf was silent for a time as the boy set out on a small exploration walk. There were trees that indeed looked like trees; only a close examination of the leaves would tell you that they had not evolved on Earth. Peter spotted some small flying creatures that looked a bit like large yellow butterflies, they seemed to flutter at random rather than flying with any great purpose in mind.

"Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"Your species is capable of moving through water. Do you have this skill?"

"You mean swimming?"

"Yes, swimming."

"Sure. I can swim pretty good. Can't you?"

"No. It is not something any Trill can do. We have a certain… aversion to deep water."

"Afraid of drowning, huh?"

"Yes, I suppose that is it. Do you have any sort of fears like that?"

"High places. I get a little scared when I'm up high, like in a tall tree or something."

"Then you know some of what deep water means to us."

"Sure. No big deal, everyone's afraid of something."

Although it seemed like the Trill were afraid of everything.

Holdsleaf was again silent for a moment before continuing.

"There is a small body of water ahead of you. Would you be willing to demonstrate your skill at swimming? It is a matter of some fascination to us."

"Sure! A swim sounds nice."

"Then you enjoy this 'activity'?"

"Well, sure. It's fun."

"Truly?"

"Yes, truly."

"Then if you wish, proceed directly ahead, the water is just a short distance." Holdsleaf shivered slightly at the very thought of being in deep water. The Trill do not swim at all, even if they have no choice in the matter. They are incapable of the physical motions needed and simply drown if they are so imprudent as to find themselves in deep water. But then the Trill are hardly ever imprudent.

The body of water was actually just a pond fed by a small, seemingly natural stream. The water was very clear; Peter could see a school of some sort of small 'fish' cruising near the bottom.

"What are those?" Peter was pointing at the fish things, wondering if they might have any notions of chewing on a human.

"They are harmless plant eaters, there are no dangerous life forms in the water," Holdsleaf explained. In fact there were no dangerous life forms on the entire planet, they had long ago been removed or altered. "You may enter the water whenever you wish."

"Okay, Neat!" Peter was out of his sock shoes and simple garment in a few seconds. A toe-test of the water told him that it was cool but not too cold for a swim. Showing off some, the boy backed away from the pond a little and then did a running dive into the crystal clear water.

Holdsleaf and the others almost had heart attacks and the Trill have four hearts.

"Woosh!" Peter yelled as he surfaced with a splash; the water had been a little colder than he had estimated. The Trill thought he must be drowning and had dispatched four of the service floaters to retrieve him.

"What are those things doing?" Peter was easily treading water as the silvery basketballs zoomed to a hover just above him.

"You seemed in distress! Are you all right?" Holdsleaf's translated voice conveyed full panic.

"Sure! The water is just sort of cold is all! I'm fine!"

The boy swam slowly for a time and then did a dive for the bottom of the pond; it was only perhaps ten feet deep. There were of course observation units underwater and they further astounded the dithering Trill with the image of Peter seemingly at ease even when fully submerged. The 'fish' had scattered in all directions.

The too cool water cut short the boy's swim. After climbing out of the pond he sat for a while warming his body in the sun. It was a sun that seemed just like the one Earth orbited. The sky was even blue.

"That was nice! Can I come here again?"

"Yes Peter, whenever you wish to."

"Cool."

"Peter, your skin has a different texture, are you well?"

"Goosebumps. From the cold water."

"Goosebumps?" Holdsleaf was not familiar with the term or the condition.

"When we get cold our skin changes sometimes. It's nothing important. I don't know how it works, actually. Or why."

"I see. Is the reduction in the size of your reproductive appendages also the result of the cold water?"

"Yes. Geez!" Peter managed a deep blush despite his goose bumps. Nothing seemed to escape the attention of the Trill.

-----------------------------

"Are you afraid of me?" Peter was munching on a properly cooked hamburger as he sat at the small dining table-thing.

"We are… very cautious by nature, Peter. You are so very large and powerful." Holdsleaf was uncomfortable with this turn in the conversation.

"I'm not big and powerful, I'm just a kid."

"We know that you are not mature in size, still you are very much bigger than we are and much stronger."

"I won't hurt you. You haven't hurt me."

"Thank you for saying that, Peter."

"I want to see what you look like. It's a drag just talking to a voice with no face to go with it. Just a picture maybe, if you're too wimpy to meet me in person."

Holdsleaf did not answer immediately, dithering was occurring.

"Very well, Peter. My image will be on the video unit as we continue to talk."

"Cool!" Peter dropped the hamburger and made a dash to the living area. What he saw on the large video screen caused him to freeze in place with astonishment. Then he started to laugh, long and loud.

"I've been kidnapped by space chickens!" He finally managed to choke out as tears rolled down his cheeks.

"Space chickens?" Holdsleaf seemed rather nonplussed at the boy's unforeseen reaction.

"You look like a…big bird or something!" Peter had by now collapsed in a heap on the sofa-like piece of furniture.

"We are Trill, are bodies are what they are." There was a hint of indignity in the "space chicken's" voice.

"I'm sorry. It's just that you look sort of…goofy to me. I guess I look goofy to you too."

"Then our appearance does not frighten or upset you?"

"No, not at all. I guess I was rude to laugh at the way you look. I apologize."

"Your apology is taken in good will then. It is better that we amuse you rather than frighten you."

"Thanks. Now we have to work on you not being so scared… so concerned about my size."

"We shall do that."

Chapter Four Lessons This new world was fascinating beyond belief but it lacked the one thing the boy wanted the most, his family, even just some news of his family.

"The probe things, the ones that found me in the first place. Can they see if my folks are okay?"

"An observation is possible," Holdsleaf replied, "but contact is not."

"If I could just see them?"

"It will be arranged for you. Some time will be needed, perhaps two days."

"Thanks! Thank you very much!"

"You are welcome, Peter. We are grateful for your help and cooperation even though you were brought here without your consent."

"That's okay. It's just that I get… I miss them."

"Family is paramount. The Trill also place great value on such things."

"Thanks. Again."

"We have decided it is time for you to begin your training as an envoy of the Trill. Is this agreeable to you?"

"Well…sure." Maybe he would get to go home soon?

"Excellent. It is first necessary that you learn and understand the general operation of the various craft that will be at your disposal when you journey to and arrive at your planet, Earth."

"Neat!"

"If you will proceed to the surface, your first lesson will begin."

--------------------------------

"What is it?" Peter was looking at some type of small flying machine. It looked a little like some sort of kiddy ride spaceship you might find in front of a K-Mart, except it was hovering silently just above the ground.

"It is a simple open flyer, designed for human needs."

"What do I do?" Peter bit his tongue and tactfully kept from telling the Trill that it looked really dorky.

"Tell it to open, then climb into the command seat."

"Tell it to open?"

"Yes, Peter. It will respond to your spoken commands."

"Cool!"

The boy gingerly approached the bright yellow 'toy' flyer. It even had tail fins and a windscreen; it would have made a good hood ornament if it had been smaller and chrome plated.

"Er…Open please." Peter felt like an idiot talking to the cheesy looking thing but a small boarding stepladder immediately and silently folding out of the side.

"Cool." Peter looked around as if expecting someone or something to be watching. Of course they were watching, from afar and from safety.

"Board and sit down, Peter. Then ask for the safety restraints."

"Okay." The boy expected the floating craft to bobble or dip when he put his weight on it, from the way it was just floating there. Instead the flyer held rock steady, as if anchored in K-mart cement. Not so much as a quiver.

The single seat in the flyer was as soft and comfortable as he had come to expect from this place. There were only two controls in sight, joystick-like devices on each arm of the seat, no foot pedals of any sort. A blank display below the clear windscreen was the only thing resembling what might be instruments. "Here goes," Peter said under his breath.

"Restraints, please."

Portions of the seat seemed to turn to putty and flowed out and around the boy's hips and down over his shoulders.

"Geez!" It was obvious that he could fly upside down without falling out; the restraints were comfortable but had the feeling of immense strength when he tried to move against them.

"Now what?"

"Instruct the craft to activate the controls." Holdsleaf would have had white knuckles by now, if any such knuckles had existed.

"Activate controls!" Peter still felt perfectly silly until the blank panel before him filled with all sorts of data that he didn't understand. There was also a central area in the panel that held an exquisite 3-D rendering of the terrain directly ahead of the small flyer.

"What do I do?" Peter's voice held a measure of panic by now.

"Remain calm. The flyer is a training craft and will not allow you to make any maneuver that can result in harm to you. You cannot perform a maneuver that will result in your injury or damage to the craft."

"Oh! Okay then, what's next?" Peter relaxed some; this thing wouldn't let him fly it into a tree or the ground!

"Very good, Peter. The control on your right determines the direction of the craft. The control on your left determines thrust, both forward and reverse. It is a very simple arrangement but some practice will be needed to coordinate your movements."

"Okay. How should I start?"

"Use the right control and experiment with pointing the craft in different directions. For now the craft is locked in place except for attitude. Do not use the thrust control on the left for the time being."

Peter didn't answer but instead carefully pushed the right stick down just a tiny bit. The nose of the craft responded by dipping a few degrees toward the ground.

"Cool!"

"Continue, make various adjustments in attitude."

The boy was soon able to move the hovering craft into any attitude from straight up to straight down to upside down, even swinging 360 degrees. It was pretty simple. It also felt very odd; the craft seemed so solidly fixed in place, even as it was pointed in different directions.

"This is easy!"

"Yes, Peter. But now actual movement is next using the thrust control."

"Uh, okay." Suddenly the boy wasn't so self-assured.

"With the craft straight and level, add a small amount of forward thrust."

"Here goes." With the barest nudge on the thrust stick the small craft moved to a walking pace over the bright green ground cover.

"Add a bit more thrust now and use the directional control to make a full circle." Holdsleaf would have smiled if it were anatomically possible; the human was off to a good start.

There was no real sensation of being in any sort or aircraft dependent on the atmosphere for support. Peter had the distinct feeling that he was rolling along on infinitely smooth rails of some type. The craft seemed to bank automatically in response to his circular course, but that was all. Following the Trill's instructions the boy pointed the nose up and commenced a curving ascent over the small valley. The height didn't bother Peter, it was different than being in tall tree or peering over a bridge railing.

"Now level out and use the thrust lever to brake to a halt."

"But… won't it drop without any thrust?"

"No, Peter. It will remain in place."

"Okay." It just didn't seem right but he did as instructed. In moments the flyer was just sitting there in midair, five hundred feet over the valley, as if parked on a solid platform.

"Criminy!"

"Now very gently point the nose down, just a little."

"Okay." By now anything seemed possible.

Again, as if on rails, the flyer began to 'roll' forward. Slowly at first, like a toy wagon coasting down a hill. Soon the wind was again rushing by as the shallow descent continued; gravity seemed in control once more.

"Now point the nose up, gently."

"Cool." Peter was beginning to get the idea of how this nutty thing worked. It went where it was pointed and was indeed affected by gravity, at least up to a point.

With the nose pointed up the craft slowed and came to a halt, then it started to slide backwards. Peter instinctively applied some forward thrust, bringing the flyer once more to a halt.

"Well done, Peter." Holdsleaf was both pleased and impressed at the young human's quick grasp of the principles involved.

"Thanks! Can I sort of play around with it? For practice?"

"Certainly. Use caution, begin slowly."

The Trill always said stuff like that.

"Sure. This is pretty neat!"

It was more than "pretty neat." Most people have occasional dreams in which they are flying above the ground like a bird, for Peter that dream was now a reality.

In the space of two hours the boy was screaming around the small valley at speeds and accelerations that had the Trill fluffing their back feathers in panic.

"His tolerations of the forces involved are far above our projections." Eggwatcher dithered.

"You state the obvious." Holdsleaf was known for a certain lack of politeness with underlings.

If progress continued like this the project could soon be declared a total success. Plans for formal contact with the humans could then be made.

--------------------------

"There's just one thing, don't be offended." Peter wasn't sure about how to say this as he lay on the 'sofa' in his quarters.

"What is that, Peter?" Holdsleaf could by now better interpret the boy's vocal tones. Something was amiss, the human was ill at ease about something.

"The way the flyer looks. Do all of your flyers look so… well, dorky?"

"Dorky?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry, but it looks like some sort of kid's toy or something."

"We designed it with your body in mind, its form was thought to be in accordance with…"

Peter interrupted, "Where did you get the shape, you know, the design?"

"From several of our early intercepted video signals."

"Like…what?"

"One moment." There was silence as Holdsleaf consulted the records interface. "Flash Gordon. There were nine episodes in which the shape was prominent."

Eventually Peter stopped laughing. Holdsleaf was at a total loss and was getting irritated with the boy's line of questions.

"This is humorous?"

"I'm sorry! I'm being rude again. What do your flyers look like?"

"One moment."

A silvery, pumpkin seed like craft appeared on the video screen.

"Now that is cool!" Peter was impressed. The thing looked like pure speed.

"Then you prefer this form?"

"Its totally cool. Much better."

"Then we shall take that into account in our designs."

"Thanks." The boy could tell that the Trill was somewhat bent out of shape. "Uh…Holdsleaf?"

"Yes, Peter?"

"I'm sorry if I offended you. I didn't mean to."

After a moment of reflection the bird-like being replied.

"There is no true offense. We are both learning about each other, mistakes will be made on both sides."

"Then we… will be patient with each other." Peter was learning more this day than how to fly. Tact and diplomacy, which was perhaps the hardest lesson of all.

"We will be patient." The boy's attitude was not lost on the Trill, it was another asset to be catalogued and considered.

---------------------------

"Good morning, Peter. Was your breakfast satisfactory?"

"Yes, actually. You guys are getting better at pancakes and syrup."

Peter was just dressing after his morning shower; there were more flyer lessons for today, this time with a larger craft.

"Can you come into the living area, there are developments that need your attention." Holdsleaf and the others had put in extra dithering about how to give this information to the human.

"What is it?"

"It concerns your request for a probe surveillance of your family."

Peter made it into the living area in record time.

"Well?"

"If you will observe the video screen, Peter."

As Holdsleaf spoke an overhead view of the boy's house appeared. There were no cars in the driveway.

"What did you find…?" Peter's voice trailed off, something was wrong.

"We don't wish to distress you, but our probes have determined that the residence is now uninhabited."

"What?" Peter's voice betrayed all that the Trill had feared.

"We took the liberty of inserting small remote units into the residence, it seems that your family has departed."

"Oh no." The boy's words were barely audible. The tears on his face said all that there was to say. The now empty house was the only home he had ever known.

"Peter…"

"Go away."

Holdsleaf did go 'away' for the time being, leaving the boy to his grief and loneliness. Flying lessons could wait; even the Trill knew about grief and sadness.

----------------------------------

"We… all of us wish to be of help to you," Holdsleaf began, "perhaps we could search for…"

"No. Thank you for trying and everything, it was good of you. I think that the sooner I can learn what you need me to know and then get back to Earth, the sooner I'll find my family." Peter was composed and calm, the tears had passed. He had an objective now.

"We are pleased with your attitude, Peter. It does you and your kind great credit." Holdsleaf was relieved beyond words.

"There is one thing that we have to do before we can go any further."

"Of course, Peter. What is that?"

"You have to stop being afraid of me. We have to meet in person, face to face. No arguments."

"Peter…" Holdsleaf was instantly in the Trill equivalent of a cold sweat.

"I trust you. You kidnapped me and hauled me off to this place and I still trust you. I even like you. Now you have to trust me some or the whole deal is off. I think that you know that I won't ever hurt you. This is important to me."

The term is "fish or cut bait."

More than a few moments passed as Holdsleaf tried to compose his/her/its self. Finally an answer was forthcoming.

"This is reasonable, Peter. But forgive me…it is a very hard thing you ask. It is a cultural matter and a result of our evolution. We have always survived by caution and prudent behavior."

"I have sort of figured that out for myself by now. I'm just a kid but I know that you have to trust the other guy sometimes. You need to trust me. You'll have to learn to trust at least some humans."

More time passed.

"Very well, Peter. I will meet in person with you." Holdsleaf would need to finalize his/hers/its property and title bequeaths. Final arrangements and all. At least the good name of the family limb would be intact if the alien creature…did what?

"Cool. Take your time. I know this a major big deal for you."

_____________________ Even Highperch had expressed great concern about an 'in the flesh' meeting with the young human. Eventually it was dithered/decided that it was a step that at some point would have to be taken by someone.

Peter was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the manicured clearing. It was like sitting on an enormous putting green, waiting for the guest of honor. Finally a small flyer landed at the far edge of the flat area.

"About time!" Peter thought. He did his best not to break up when the 'space chicken' carefully clambered down and stood with obvious nervousness facing the human. The Trill seemed even sillier in person than on the video, smaller too. Holdsleaf tentatively returned a friendly wave from the boy.

As agreed, Peter sat still and waited for the Trill to approach at its own pace. In Holdsleaf's tightly clutched right hand was a small cylinder with a button on one end. The device could activate the implant in Peter's skull if events appeared threatening.

"Hi!" Peter waved again as the Trill slowly started to edge in his direction. This could take all day at this pace.

"Hello Peter. Forgive my…hesitation."

"No problem. I'll just sit right here. I won't stand up or anything." Peter did wonder how the feathery alien's voice was being translated but decided that an interminable explanation would follow any questions about it.

"Thank you, Peter. I will approach you now."

If the boy had shouted "boo" the Trill might have literally dropped dead. Peter did not shout "boo."

A human hand was extended palm up to the feathered creature. In time Holdsleaf reached out and lightly placed four soft fingers on that human palm.

"Hi," Peter said quietly. He could see that the alien was actually trembling with fright.

"Hello, Peter."

"Your hand feels warm, sort of nice."

"As does yours, Peter."

"Why not sit down and be comfortable. You can sit down?"

"Yes, we can sit." Holdsleaf folded his/her/its legs and became even smaller and more vulnerable looking.

"Thank you for doing this."

"Peter?"

"For coming to meet me like this. It was sort of important to me."

"I must confess to my misgivings about meeting you."

"Why?"

"It seems...imprudent."

"Well, you're okay so far. Relax."

Holdsleaf made a great leap of faith and a further confession.

"Peter."

"Yeah?"

"There is a procedure that we performed…when we first brought you here."

"What?"

"We were as always concerned that you might become a danger to us. There is an implant."

"A what?"

"We placed a small device in your… head to immobilize you in an emergency. It would do no real harm to you in any event."

Peter's eyes went wide for a moment.

"In case I went nuts?"

"In a manner of speaking. This is not a matter of any pride that I say this to you, but of some shame and dishonor. Even now I hold the activation unit in my hand."

"Really?" Peter was not overly surprised by any of this but he was taken aback by the small alien's truthfulness and candor.

"Here. It is a thing that you should now have."

Holdsleaf's extended a soft pink hand holding the small metal cylinder to the boy. Peter took it and examined it for a moment and then carefully handed the device back to the amazed Trill.

"Now we can trust each other a little more," he smiled.

"Indeed. Even so it is hard for me to be here, so close…"

"You think I'm big and scary. I think that you're sort of small and weird looking. Let's call it even and get on with the important stuff."

"Agreed."

"May I do something else?" Peter asked.

"If it is in my power to agree."

"Your…feathers. They look so soft. May I touch them?"

"Yes." Holdsleaf was by now somewhat more at ease; still the human was so close and so very powerful.

Slowly and realizing that the Trill was scared beyond silly, the boy gently reached out and touched the soft yellow 'feathers' that covered the alien's upper arm.

"They feel a little stiffer than I thought they would, but sort of nice."

The Trill did not immediately respond but after a moment also had a request.

"The fine filaments on your head. May I also touch them?"

"My Hair? Sure."

Peter bent forward and waited. A gentle touch told the boy that the Trill was also a very curious being.

"Thank you, Peter. There is one other thing. You may properly refuse if it offends you."

"What's that?"

"Your teeth. They are…fearsome to us. May I look at them closely?"

The assembled Trill who were remotely monitoring Holdsleaf's meeting with the human almost molted in unison at this further risk.

"Sure."

Peter opened his mouth wide, baring a straight and healthy set of 'fangs.' To even Holdsleaf's surprise the Trill reached out and delicately tapped the boy's incisors with one delicate finger.

"It has lost it's reasoning." Nestkeeper was also watching this dangerous encounter. Either Holdsleaf was insanely brave or just simply insane.

"Thank you, Peter. Have I given any offense?"

"No, of course not. You've been really nice."

"Then this has been a good day."

"Yeah."

"I will have the implant removed, with your permission."

Peter thought for a moment before answering.

"No. Keep the gizmo that activates it too. I get pretty pissed off sometimes, you might need to 'turn me off' or something."

"Pissed off?"

"Mad."

"Yes. Anger. That is an emotion shared by both of our kind. Thank you for your consideration."

"Cool. Now we can get on with the important stuff."

"Which is?"

"Getting me ready to go the hell home. No offense."

"No offense is taken. It is a hard thing for you to be here, this we know. All measures will be taken to hasten you on your way."

Chapter Five Starship "Your orbital path is not correct for a rendezvous without further adjustments. Excessive thrust was applied in the final phase."

"Shit!" Peter was very tired and besides, it was a lot simpler to just tell the 'shuttle' where he wanted to go instead of trying to guide the airliner-sized craft himself. "Sorry. Should I try it again?"

"No, Peter. You have done well today as always. Rest is now in order." Holdsleaf could by now easily detect the human's moods and physical state, even over a communications link.

"Sounds good to me. What's for dinner?"

"Macaroni and cheese with pie for desert."

"Cool!" Peter always did like macaroni. "What kind of pie?"

"Eel intestines with sweetened bat excrement."

"Very funny."

Peter had to grin at the Trill's attempt at humor. The dopey looking feathered thing was getting a lot better at it and after almost a year there had been enough time to practice.

--------------------------

"Holdsleaf?"

"Yes, Peter?"

"I really need to go home now. I'm never going to be able to do all of the things you want me to learn. I'm not as smart as you are…as the Trill are."

Holdsleaf had been expecting this and it was indeed time to move to the final stages of this project.

"You do yourself a disservice, Peter. You are strong and brave while we are weak and…prudent. You have learned far better than we have thought you could; intelligence has many forms. The final arrangements for your return have been underway for some time now."

"Really?"

"Yes. On the sunrise you will meet with the vessel that will take you to your home as the representative of the Trill."

"Oh." Peter was without words for a moment; he had almost lost track of the passage of time, of how long he had been on this world. Now he would be going home.

"Meet with the vessel?"

"Yes, Peter. The craft has a level of artificial intelligence that entitles it to be treated as a sentient being, a person if you will."

"Like a big computer?"

"Yes, only much more so. Certain rights are bestowed on such a device, it must never be treated as just a 'device' but as a true thinking being."

"Oh. Will I be in charge or will it?"

"The vessel has been designed to serve you but even so you must not abuse that arrangement. Tact and consideration as for another human will be needed."

"Okay, I can do that. Maybe it's a pretty good thing. Sometimes I get a little…goofy."

"As do we all, Peter."

----------------------------

"Mother?"

"Yes, Peter. We have designed the vessel to respond as a female human, a parent. It will respond to the name "Mother."

"Geez!"

"Peter?"

"Its sort of weird, calling a spaceship "Mother."

"The craft's purpose is to protect you and care for you, and to do as you wish within reason. Like a parent."

Peter didn't reply, this was all just too crazy. Even after all of this time in this loony place he could still be amazed.

"What does it look like?" Peter finally thought to ask.

"The vessel is spherical in shape with multiple deck levels. It is designed for long periods of use by humans and is very comfortable."

"How big is it?"

"In your terms, a bit more than one thousand meters in diameter."

Peter knew from school what a kilometer was. The spacecraft was huge!

"So big?" The boy's mouth refused to close after he asked this.

"Not as deep space vessels are measured," Holdsleaf explained, "its rather small actually."

It was not until this moment that Peter finally grasped the true enormity of his 'mission' to Earth. The Trill had taken all of these years and now prepared this giant spacecraft just to rely on one dumb kid to join together two civilizations. It was more than scary.

"What if…what if I mess up?"

"Mess up, Peter?"

"You know, make a bad mistake."

"We have talked at great length about the best methods for making contact. Use caution and move slowly, that is all that can be done. If mistakes are made, then learn from the experience. That is the way of all progress."

"It would help an awful lot if you would come along." This was something that Peter had requested almost on a daily basis for the last six months.

"It is not our way to…"

"Chicken!"

"Cluck cluck." It was by now Holdsleaf's stock reply and always produced a smile on the boy's face.

-------------------------------

Peter had been giving the training effort his best for all of these months but he was bright enough to realize that he was just not bright enough. Not bright enough to understand all of the things the Trill attempted to teach him. Perhaps no human was intelligent enough.

Despite his shortcomings in the intelligence department the boy had managed things that he would have thought ridiculous less than a year ago. He could pilot a variety of Trill craft, including the gracefully streamlined orbital 'shuttle' that was his latest lesson. The shuttle bore a resemblance to a rather overweight manta ray with it's downward curved 'wings.' The Trill designed vessel could respond to voice commands as well as control inputs and was a thing of beauty for any species to behold. Matching orbits with a target was something best left to the shuttle but the boy could now manage a wobbly 'eyeball' manual approach. Peter had even come to grips with both hard accelerations and a total lack of gravity. Only the interstellar vessels, the starships, could nullify inertia and control gravity.

The mind-bending concepts behind what made the shuttle move and the even more arcane theories of interstellar travel were simply beyond Peter's grasp. It was enough for now to know that these things worked and how to operate them; he did not have to understand the details. Your average person can easily operate a cell phone but don't ask them to design and build one from scratch.

Diplomacy was another matter and it was what bothered Peter the most. He would have to make some sort of contact with humanity without creating a global panic. He would have to make contact without getting killed in the process. Recent events on Earth had made most governments rather impatient with unidentified aircraft and their movements. There was an understandable tendency to shoot first and deal with the lawyers later.

Not that Peter would be defenseless. The Trill were as always prepared for the worst. "Mother" and the orbital shuttle would be shielded and armed in the extreme; smaller atmospheric craft would be at the most risk.

---------------------------

"Can I at least talk to you when I need to?"

"Of course, Peter. But you must exercise some degree of self-reliance and judgment. Despite our studies we still do not understand the human mind as well as a human does, even a young human." Holdsleaf knew all too well about trying to fully understand humans.

"I sort of like the idea of a really low key visit to some army or air base out in the boonies somewhere, to get things in motion."

"Boonies?" The Trill scholar had learned some new term almost every day.

"Uh, a remote place, away from a lot of people."

"Yes. That might be a prudent beginning but..."

"But… they may not want to let me go once I sort of knock on the door."

"Indeed. We are in favor of a more open approach. There will be some disturbances to human society but it will be safer for you."

"What if they still sort of grab me?"

"Mother will not abandon you."

That sort of had an ominous implication to it.

"Speaking of Mother, when do I…?"

"On the sunrise. Mother has even now moved into orbit and is ready to welcome you."

"Cool." Peter's reply was a little soft, perhaps it was because he was really nervous about meeting the intelligent vessel, about meeting…what?

Unspoken but still in the boy's mind was his aching desire to find his family. Perhaps it was more important to him than any damned contact between civilizations.

--------------------------------

"Take over my approach and landing, please." The boy wasn't taking any chances on messing up this first meeting.

"Yes, Peter. Welcome aboard." Mother's voice was distilled from every sex goddess who had ever graced the silver screen. Even Peter had visions of large breasts and sultry lips and he was only eleven by now.

Peter had departed the surface early in the Trill morning, as Holdsleaf had said he would. The shuttle had no outwardly visible canopy or windows and was composed of the same polished bronze colored material that Mother was. In the 'cockpit' Peter was surrounded on all sides with view screens that flawlessly simulated actual windows; his command seat almost seemed to float in midair. Information displays, when called for, seemed to hover in space before his eyes. Controls were small and similar to the first 'K-Mart' flyer that he had mastered. Behind the control area was a small living area including a bunk , bathroom, food preparation and a tiny medical bay. Most of the 'fuselage' was taken up with the odd propulsion and defensive systems.

He managed a fairly decent orbital rendezvous but had decided that he would be pushing things to try and enter the starship's hanger deck without assistance. Approaching Mother was like closing on a small, featureless moon that was composed entirely of polished bronze.

"Jesus." Peter whispered as the shuttle drifted slowly through the field that held in the starship's internal atmosphere. The giant vessel's hull looked to be about ten meters thick, composed of whatever the solid metal was that the Trill had devised. A hatch the size of a football field slid into place as the shuttle gently grounded on the vast and brightly lit hangar deck.

"Again, welcome aboard." There was that amazing voice once more.

"Thank…thank you, Mother." Peter felt like curling up into a ball and vanishing.

It took a few moments for the boy to work up the nerve to open the shuttle's hatch and descend to the bowl-shaped hanger deck. The rubbery feeling deck was indeed double-curved with various auxiliary craft parked even in places up toward where the 'deck' met the flat overhead. It didn't seem possible but 'down' was directly under you wherever you walked, even up to the overhead. It made Peter feel a little dizzy and was very disconcerting.

"This is very weird," Peter said quietly to no one in particular.

"What is weird, Peter?" Apparently Mother had very good ears, everywhere.

"The way the floor…the deck curves."

"It makes available the greatest amount of usable space. The gravity field is shaped to provide a stable footing no matter where you are."

"Yeah? It's still sort of weird. And big." The place was huge, sort of like being inside an upside down Superdome. "What's that?" Peter was pointing to a large circular opening in the middle of the 'ceiling.'

"That is the lift tube, for traveling from deck to deck."

"But…where's the elevator thing?"

"Lifting fields will take you to whatever deck you wish to go to, there is no need for an actual physical device to ride in."

"Oh." Peter's reply was almost inaudible. He still was afraid of heights, or rather of falling from heights.

"I have been instructed that you have some difficulty with heights. A small flyer might be the best solution for now until you have adjusted to the lift tube. You may ride in one of flyers."

"Good! Sorry to be such a wimp."

"You are not a wimp, Peter. You have done very well in all of your efforts."

"Thanks."

"Perhaps a tour of things is now in order?"

"Sure. By the way, where are you?" Peter had a vision of some sort of big metal cabinet with blinking lights.

"My components are in various locations throughout the vessel, there is no central device that could be described as being me. I am the vessel and all of its parts."

"Oh." Peter tended to say that a lot these last months.

In the times to come Mother would become more 'human' as the artificial intelligence learned better how to deal with her one charge. In time Mother would be more human than Trill.

A small open flyer lifted off the deck across from Peter and drifted over to land beside him. At least he wouldn't have to go floating up the towering shaft with nothing under him.

"The greenhouse deck is first, above the propulsion ring."

"Propulsion ring?" Peter asked as he climbed into the flyer.

"Yes. It is the central deck and the largest. I'm afraid it is not possible for you to enter there while the vessel is powered up."

"Why?"

"The energy levels and drive fields would be…unhealthy for you."

"How unhealthy?"

"Your body would be…damaged beyond repair."

"Then we can skip the propulsion ring!"

"Indeed, Peter. A remote viewer tour will be arranged later, so you can see without being in any danger."

"Cool."

--------------------------------

The greenhouse deck was a small Eden filled with a wild variety of plant life, insects and small animals. The plants and animals were all from Earth. The overhead appeared to be blue sky with some wispy clouds in evidence. It was warm and bright but no sun was to be seen. Best of all the 'ground' or deck if you will, was perfectly flat.

"Wow!" Again, Peter's voice was almost a whisper. "This is beautiful!"

"Thank you, Peter. A great deal of effort has gone into making this area a place where you can go to relax and enjoy yourself. Also, fresh vegetable foods are grown here and the plant life contributes to the air renewal system."

"Is it okay to get out and look around?"

"Certainly. There is nothing of any danger here. There are bees to provide pollination, but their stings have been genetically altered to be harmless."

"Neat." Peter was out of the flyer in a flash and headed for what appeared to be a small woodland pond.

There were even frogs to catch if you were quick enough.

Peter took a quick dip in the clear water and was grateful that it was a little warmer than the pond down on the Trill planet. Mother supplied a blast of warm air to quickly dry the boy; just where it came from was a mystery to him. As he was pulling his clothes back on a small troop of monkeys appeared in the nearby (oak?) trees and began complaining about his presence.

"They are expecting their melon pieces," Mother explained.

"Melon pieces?"

"Yes. Every day I set out some for them. I do enjoy watching them."

It was at this point that Peter better understood just what or whom he was dealing with. Mother had feelings and emotions.

"Can I try feeding them?"

"Yes, Peter. I will fetch the melon pieces for you."

One of the ever present floaters soon zoomed up bearing a small open container of what appeared to be watermelon and cantaloupe slices. The melon looked very tempting so Peter tried a piece himself and this seemed to set off the monkeys.

"I think they're mad at me."

"Walk toward them a ways and then sit down," Mother advised, "perhaps they will forgive you if you offer them the rest."

Peter was doubtful but did as the unseen voice said. He assumed that Mother would not allow her one charge to be attacked by a mob of irate simians.

"They seem sort of afraid of me."

"Give them a moment. Their greed will probably win out."

"Okay."

Greed did win out as one of the monkeys, perhaps the head monkey, climbed down from the tree and edged toward the melon that the boy was holding out towards it. Darting forward the small monkey grabbed its tasty objective and beat a retreat back to the tree. Within minutes Peter had to leave the container of melon pieces on the ground and beat his own retreat; he was surrounded by the entire monkey population of the greenhouse deck, all ten of them.

"They didn't stay scared very long!" Peter laughed as he watched from a distance.

"Indeed not. They appear to be more bluster than action. Do not be afraid of them."

"No. They make a lot of noise, though."

"True. Shall we continue the tour?"

"Okay." Peter wondered what could possibly top this place.

-------------------------------

"As we proceed upwards the decks become smaller," Mother explained as the flyer drifted up the central tube. "The next deck contains your living quarters, the medical section, and the life support and maintenance areas."

"Medical section?"

"If you become ill or are injured. It is a sort of hospital just for you."

"Oh." There, he said it again.

The flyer gently touched down in what appeared to be a wide and ornate entryway with a softly curved hallway leading away from it. This place had the feeling of subdued alien elegance with inlaid designs in the walls of what might be some sort of exotic wood. There were highlights of what had to be gold and pinpoints of light that certainly were jewels.

"Geez!" Peter felt like he had wandered into the wrong hotel maybe, without a reservation and with no proper suit or tie.

"Peter?"

"This is beautiful!"

"Thank you. The Trill do have some appreciation for proper living accommodations."

"No shi…no kidding!"

"If you will proceed up the hallway, your living quarters are just ahead."

Peter finally made his feet move and did indeed proceed up the hall. As always, there did not appear to be a corner or sharp angle in the whole place; everything was gently curved and rounded.

Everything also looked like it might have been intended for the interior of a Rolls Royce, only much more refined.

"There are separate living quarters for as many as forty individuals on this deck. You may chose the one that most appeals to you."

"Forty?"

"It was considered that you might from time to time desire to have guests aboard, extra accommodations were provided."

"Guests?"

"After you have made contact."

"Oh." Again.

Peter wandered around for what seemed like hours looking at the impossibly elegant living quarters. Finally he just settled on the first 'apartment' that he had looked at. And it was indeed and apartment complete with living room, bedroom, bath, and a sort of kitchen. The Trill seemed to have a preference for gold; it didn't tarnish or rust. In the living room there was a pay-per-view wrestling bout on the wall-size video display, relayed through non-space in real time from a probe sitting on the Earth's moon.

"Are these quarters acceptable to you, Peter?"

"Gosh. Yes. More than yes!"

"Good. There is one more deck to see before today's tour ends."

"The control deck?"

"Indeed. It is the smallest, but perhaps the most important."

"Okay. Let's go."

Along the way Mother steered the boy to a large commons room; a meeting place with a large central table that seemed cut from some sort of polished translucent stone. Weight is of no matter onboard a vessel that can ignore gravity.

----------------------------------

The starship's command and control deck was sort of a disappointment to the boy. There really wasn't a lot to look at on first sight. There was the command chair that Peter sat in and there were the small control 'joysticks' that he had become used to. And not much else.

"Is this all?"

"No, Peter. You must ask for whatever you want, such as the outside view."

"Okay. Give me the outside view, please." The "please" seemed only proper, as if he were talking to an adult human.

The giant gray hemisphere surrounding the command chair blinked out of existence, replaced with a sea of stars and the green home world of the Trill below.

"OhmyGod."

"It is beautiful, isn't it?" Mother asked softly.

"Yes. Geez."

"All of my resources can be accessed here," Mother continued, "communications, sensory displays, navigation, weapons, the vessel's status."

"I don't even know what to ask for." Peter was still quite overwhelmed by the awesome view and had quite missed the mention of weapons.

"We will have training sessions, a bit at a time."

"Good. I think I need a lot of training."

"Not as much as you might imagine, Peter. You only have to know what to ask for."

----------------------------

"Before departure there is a final procedure that we feel would be in your best interest." As always Holdsleaf seemed ill at ease and nervous when making a serious request of the boy.

"Procedure?"

"Yes, Peter. We would like to implant in your body a defensive device, a shield. That and a communications link."

"Implant? Shield? Inside me?" Peter's eyes were by now on maximum open.

"Against projectile weapons and harmful radiation intrusions. It would also protect you in case of severe impacts. The communications link would allow you to contact Mother at any time and allow her to contact you."

"To keep me safe, then?"

"Yes, Peter. We would like your permission to do this."

"Will it hurt?"

"No, Peter. We have by now come to better appreciate you as a…person. We could never hurt you."

"Okay then, go ahead and do it."

"Thank you."

It would all be done by robotic devices, there was no longer any such thing as a Trill surgeon.

Peter had bathed and put on the loose white robe that had been left on his bed. A short walk then had him at the underground facility devoted expressly to his health and welfare.

"What's next?" The boy was as nervous as you might be.

"Remove your robe and lie down upon the table. Keep in mind that there will be no pain or discomfort."

"Easy for you to say."

"Peter?"

"Nothing."

A floater silently moved alongside the very exposed boy and gently touched his neck with a small round pad. There was not even a pinprick as Peter sighed and then drifted off to dreamless sleep.

The shield device was the size and shape of a rounded off vitamin capsule and was inserted in the abdominal wall between his small intestines and spinal column. The communication link was smaller than a pea and went into the bone just behind Peter's right ear. The whole procedure lasted about ten minutes. There would be a tiny loss of blood so Holdsleaf had declined to observe the operation. Holdsleaf also had red blood and the whole concept of losing any of it was most disturbing.

--------------------------

"Huh?" Peter was decidedly not awake yet.

"Try to sit up if you feel able. The procedure is complete." Holdsleaf was dithering, as always.

"Okay."

He did manage to sit up. A blurry inspection of his bare body revealed nothing changed. No scars or stitches…wait…there was a slightly pink area just below his navel. He finally managed to put his robe back on and after a few minutes he was fully awake and full of questions.

"Well?"

"The procedure went as planed. The devices are fully operational."

"Oh. How does…" His voice trailed off, this was all just too damned much.

"Please observe. Do not be alarmed, no harm will come to you."

"Okay." He also said that a lot as of late.

Another floater arrived and positioned itself across from the boy, about twenty feet away. It held a nasty looking barb tipped 'arrow' in its metal tentacle. With no preamble or words of assurance the barb-tipped projectile was launched at blinding speed directly at the boy's chest. Dead center.

"Aaaaagghhh!" Peter tried to duck but there was no time.

Nothing bad happened. The boy's robe and skin briefly flashed to a polished mirror brightness as the projectile pinged off at an angle as if encountering a wall of steel. More than steel.

"Shit!" Peter had almost lost control of his bodily functions.

He was also completely intact.

"The device is functioning properly." Holdsleaf seemed entirely too calm and composed to the boy.

"Crim-en-ent-ly!"

"Peter?"

"You might have warned me before you did that!"

"Did what, Peter?"

"Fired that…spear thing at me! Shit!"

"It was merely a test of…"

"Test! Shit! Don't do that again without saying something!"

"Peter. You are upset. We apologize for this."

Eventually the boy cooled off and calm was restored. It was still a learning process for all concerned.

--------------------------

"To activate the communications link you need only to blink your eyes in a certain pattern. Two blinks, pause, then three blinks. The device will detect the pattern of nerve impulses involved in your blinking." The Trill did share that one behavior with humans, they too blinked.

"Then what?"

"Speak normally, at any volume. The reply will only be heard by you through bone conduction."

"If you say so." Peter was doubtful about this whole concept but did as he was instructed.

"Yes, Peter?" It was Mother talking to him, her sexy voice sounded very, very close.

"Uh… Hi. I'm just testing this link thing. Can you hear me okay?"

"Yes, your voice is very clear. Try the lowest volume you can manage."

"Can you still hear me now?" It was a whisper that was almost silence.

"Yes again, Peter. The device is working correctly."

"Cool!"

"To break the link, simply repeat the blink-sequence."

"Will do. Thanks."

With that he blinked the sequence again and Mother was gone.

Chapter Six Departure "What a mess!" The evening news from Earth was as bad as it usually was.

"What is a mess, Peter?" Holdsleaf never seemed to sleep and always had questions for the boy. It did help to fight the loneliness, though.

"The Arabs and the Jews are fighting again. A big-ass oil tanker just plowed into a rock by San Francisco and the stupid Giants blew another easy game!"

"Baseball. I must confess to not fully understanding the reason for such an activity."

"It's supposed to be fun."

"Is it not?"

"Not when parents get involved and when the stupid Giants can't hit a bull in the butt with a bass fiddle."

"Again I do not follow your explanation."

"It's not important."

Awkward silence.

"A decision has been arrived at about your training." Holdsleaf's translated voice still held a sense of nervousness in it.

"A decision?"

"Yes, Peter. The consensus is that the time has arrived for you to journey to Earth and initiate contact."

"Really?" Peter squeaked, almost unable to speak at all.

"Yes. Perhaps we have held you here too long as it is. It is our way to be cautious."

"I know." Peter knew all too well, he had been on this alien world for the best part of a year (Earth year, that is). "When can I…"

The boy's voice failed him at this point; his eyes were leaking at an alarming rate.

"On the sunrise. There is no need for further delays."

"Oh God. Thank you."

"No, Peter. Thank you."

Peter didn't sleep at all that night, at least not until Holdsleaf had him drink a small 'potion.' The boy would need some rest for what was ahead in the morning.

----------------------------

Peter was sitting on the putting green perfection of the small clearing, waiting for Holdsleaf to once more work up the nerve to meet him in person. Far off to one side the polished bronze shuttle hovered silently a few feet off the ground.

"Come on, bird brain. Where are you?" He didn't say it out loud, by now he knew that everything could be heard. Finally a small flyer sat down at the far edge of the clearing. "About time!"

As always it took forever for the timid Trill to sidle over to where the boy sat cross-legged.

"Hi." Peter began simply.

"Hello, Peter. You are somewhat larger than the last time we met."

"I guess that happens. Growing and all of that stuff."

"Yes. We also undergo a growth period."

Long pause.

"I have…we have grown to care very much about you, Peter. It is difficult to bid you a farewell."

"Me too. I'm going to miss your silly face."

"Silly?"

"Yes. I'm sorry but I have to be honest with you. You are the goofiest looking bird I have ever seen."

"Then we must both be honest with each other this final day together. Your body has a most disagreeable odor." It was something the Trill had diplomatically never mentioned before.

"What? I take a shower every day! I try to keep clean!"

"It is not a matter of personal cleanliness. It is the natural odor of your species that we find offensive."

Peter thought about this before replying. He didn't even realize that he might have an odor. He sniffed his arm and didn't smell anything in particular. Maybe the Trill had a better sense of smell?

"Then I guess you have been very polite. Thank you for putting up with my smell."

"Dear Peter. We have abducted you, taken you from your family and brought you to this far place and yet you still have compassion for me and care about my feelings. It is perhaps the best thing about humans that we have learned."

The boy also had his own observations: "You could have been mean to me, you could have hurt me and there was nothing to stop you. You were as nice as you knew how to be, that's what I have learned about the Trill."

"Then we can part as friends?" Holdsleaf asked.

"Yes, of course. With a handshake."

They did shake hands. Peter ignored the procedures and stood up to do it, towering over the small bird-like creature before him. To Holdsleaf's credit the Trill held its ground and did not flee in panic towards the waiting flyer.

They would always be friends.

-------------------------

--Mother-- "Your command, Peter?"

"Command?"

"This vessel is at your disposal. Within limits, of course."

The boy had to suppress a laugh. Mother did indeed sound like a mother.

"Then let's head for Earth, I guess?"

"Commencing departure protocols."

That sounded sort of official so Peter just sat back in the command chair and waited for stuff to happen, "Outside view, please." He did remember to ask for that.

Stuff did happen.

---------------------

"Then it'll be another day before we go into non-space?"

"Yes, Peter. We must be well clear of the Trill home system before initiating the drive field."

"But we've come a zillion miles already!"

"But not far enough. Patience."

"Yeah. What will happen when we…do whatever it is you do?"

"The shift into non-space is unremarkable to observe. The outside view sensors will only show a sudden blackness."

"No swooshing or lightshow stuff like in the movies?"

"No. My records of human entertainment offer no analogy for non-space."

Peter wasn't really sure what an analogy was but could tell that there probably wouldn't be much to watch in any case.

-----------------------

Before the transition to non-space there were a few matters to attend to.

"A spacesuit?"

"Yes, Peter. Or more precisely a hostile environment suit if you wish to visit the surface of other planets or moons."

"Cool!"

"If you will proceed to the equipment fabrication module, a suit will be produced for you."

"Where the heck is…"

"Turn to your left upon exiting your quarters, then follow my directions."

Mother was a very big place and Peter had only started to learn where everything was. He still had not come to grips with the bottomless abyss that was the 'elevator' shaft.

Like everything else the Trill had devised the fabrication module seemed like a lot less than it actually was.

"There's nothing in here!"

"Not correct, Peter. Please disrobe and stand on the blue circle."

"Oh." By now Peter had lost most of what sort of sense of modesty he had ever possessed, especially if it was only Mother looking at him.

"This reminds me! I need some better clothes to wear when I meet with…other humans." The one-piece jumpsuit that he had come to accept looked a bit too much like a small child's pajamas.

"We will devise proper clothing for you, later."

That sort of sounded like his real mom telling him to be quite and stand still.

"Now what?" Peter was standing on the blue circle as instructed.

"You may dress now, your physical parameters have been established."

"Geez." That was quick.

"When will it be ready?"

"After your noon meal."

"Neat!"

"In the meantime you need to come to terms with the central lift shaft."

Oh crap!

"But…"

"Fear is a thing that is only an emotion. Even the youngest Trill know this."

"Yeah! Well, they're are still pretty chicken if you ask me!"

"Prudent."

"Whatever!" Peter really didn't even want to think about the lift shaft. The place was bad enough while even safely inside a flyer.

It was like approaching the very sharp edge of a cliff. Peter wriggled the last ten feet on his stomach.

"Oh shit!" Another whisper. He was peering into a bottomless pit that was at least a hundred feet across. Even while lying prone on the polished ebony of the soft deck he felt dizzy.

"Mother!" His fear was apparent to anyone or anything.

"Calm yourself, Peter. You are perfectly safe. You will always be perfectly safe here."

"I can't help it!" By now his eyes were shut tight.

"But of course you can. Move back from the edge of the shaft and stand up."

With some effort the boy pushed and wiggled himself back from the edge, way back. Then he did manage to stand and better compose himself. "Sorry."

"No need for sorrow. Observe and remain calm."

"What?"

"What" was finding himself slowly floating free of the deck until he was about a foot in the air. There was no sensation of anything touching him, no feeling of falling or weightlessness. He was just floating there.

"Whoa!" He could move his body freely, there seemed to be no restraints on him.

"This is a lift field, Peter. The same that the central shaft uses for transport."

"It feels okay, sort of nice."

"Good. Are you agreeable for one more step."

"Uh, what?" Dread.

"Allowing me to move you out into the shaft."

"Geez, I dunno." Much more dread.

"Trust, Peter. Holdsleaf grew to trust you despite a great anxiety about your size and strength. Now you must trust me that much."

"Oh geez! Okay, I guess."

"We will go slowly."

"Good!"

Peter's pulse was racing as the unseen hand drifted him towards the abyss but at the same time he did feel secure and supported.

"Oh God." He was in midair seven hundred meters above the hanger deck. Above, the portal to the command deck was visible and below the greenhouse entrance. The hanger deck was so very far below.

"Are you all right, Peter?"

"Yes…no…I don't now!"

"May I slowly take you down to the greenhouse deck?"

"Yes!"

"Very well. Keep in mind that I am incapable of dropping you, even if I desired to do so."

"Th…thanks. I guess."

The descent was slow and measured and took long enough for Peter to collect his wits a little better. There was no sensation of dropping, he was going too slow for that and the wall of the shaft was featureless and smooth. It was still a long ways to the floor of the hanger deck.

"Okay?" Mother asked gently.

"Yes. Better."

"Your bravery does your kind credit. I know this is a very hard thing for you."

"You have no idea how hard this is! But thanks anyway."

"You are almost there. Perhaps the monkeys would like some extra melon this day?"

"Okay."

As he drifted into the huge greenhouse portal Peter calmed even more. He was very alive, he hadn't even peed in his pants.

"Mother?"

"Yes, Peter."

"You're a pretty good mother. Thanks."

"Thank you, Peter."

A swim and then feeding the squabbling monkeys went a long ways in restoring calm to Peter. By the time that he had once more used the central tube and alit on the hanger deck he was almost breathing normally again.

"Cool!" A firm deck was finally under him. He had made a good beginning on coming to grips with his worst phobia.

Spiders still gave him the creeps and always would.

But there were no bad spiders onboard Mother, just the wimpy little ones in the greenhouse and none of the life forms there were ever allowed onto the other decks.

-------------------------

The spacesuit was entirely too cool. Mostly.

"Observe the urine cache and the attached absorption unit." Mother may as well have been describing a used '56 Buick.

"Geez!" The suit had a built in bathroom!

"Peter?"

"Nothing. Go on."

"Likewise the feces collection unit."

"Oh man!" This was getting sort of gross.

"Peter?"

"Nothing. Its very nice."

The suit could keep him alive (if hungry) almost indefinitely. It could even recycle his 'byproducts.' It also looked very cool. Black with shiny metal bits and pieces and form fitting to the point of being kind of immodest. It seemed to be made of some sort of lightweight foam material, perhaps no more than a half inch thick. The helmet was not a helmet at all but was a small bubble shield that held in the atmosphere and polarized out harmful light levels and radiation. Life support was a tiny, molded backpack unit about the size of a hardcover book.

"What if the helmet thing gets, you know, turned off by mistake?"

"That cannot happen in conditions that might harm you. In low or no atmosphere conditions or toxic conditions the helmet field cannot be turned off."

"Oh. Good." Very good!

-------------------------

"Transition in thirty seconds."

Peter was on the command deck with the outside view turned on. They had already come so far that it was getting very hard to pick out the Trill sun from the other stars.

"Five seconds," Mother intoned.

And then it all went black, just as Mother had said it would.

"That's all?" Peter was still disappointed that the vessel didn't at least quiver or make some sort of dramatic noise.

"Yes, Peter. It will be almost six months until normal space is regained.

"What am I gonna do for six months?"

"There is still some training to do on the shuttle. Weapons management for all of the craft, that type of activity."

"Weapons?"

"Yes, Peter. The universe can be a very dangerous place for the unprepared."

"For six months?" That seemed like another lifetime away from his family.

"You may opt for the suspension field when your training is complete."

"Oh. Holdsleaf told me about that once. Time sort of stops or something."

"Time does not stop but you will not age or experience any sensations at all. It is the way the Trill manage long voyages."

This sounded better. He wouldn't go nuts wandering the vast starship as time dribbled by. His folks probably thought he was dead so what were a few more months anyway?

------------------------------

"Molecular cohesion?"

"Yes, Peter. The beam causes the target material to simply dissolve or come apart on the molecular level."

"Sounds pretty bad."

"It is indeed a most fearsome weapon and must be used with great care."

"Prudently." Peter added with a grin.

"Yes. As the Trill might do."

There were other weapons at Mother and Peter's disposal that ranged from mild to ghastly in power.

It was within the capabilities of the starship to reduce the entire Earth to a literal cinder. That frightened Peter a lot, as it should anyone.

The boy put in long hours polishing his piloting skills; all of the larger craft onboard had simulator settings that projected perfect visual images on the view panels. After five weeks it seemed as if he wasn't going to get a lot better. In fact he was pretty good at it now and there is a limit to each individual's reaction times and coordination. And intelligence.

It had become a real drag too.

"Mother?" He was taking a break by giving the insane monkey clan their daily melon treats "Yes, Peter?"

"What's you opinion…about my training?"

"I believe that your skills are sufficient for the tasks ahead."

"Then I could go into suspension if I wanted to?"

"Yes."

"Then that's what I want to do. Until we get to Earth."

"Very well. Might I suggest ending suspension when we reach the outer edges of Earth's system?"

"That sounds about right, I think. We'll maybe need to stop there and work out the best way to go ahead."

"Excellent reasoning, Peter. I concur with that."

"Thanks."

"When can I…?"

"Right now if you wish to."

"Oh. Okay then, lets do it."

------------------------------

"Should I like…use the bathroom first or anything?"

"Only if you wish to. No preparations are needed."

"Oh. Well, then what do I do now?"

"Merely walk into the chamber and turn to face the portal."

Peter did as expected of him. As was usual the small circular space was devoid of anything at all interesting to look at. As he stood looking toward the entry he was going to ask Mother if he should close his eyes. He was too slow with his question; Mother had already 'thrown the switch' as it were. Peter and all of his atoms ceased any motion. It would be almost five months before he managed to ask his question.

"Goodbye for now, dear Peter." Unfortunately for Mother the vessel had no such suspension for itself. Mother would be rather lonely for the rest of the non-space crossing.

Chapter Seven Arrival and Contact "Should I close my eyes or anything?" The chamber seemed to flicker for a split second and Peter blinked. It seemed like something might have happened, or had it?

"Welcome back, Peter. Suspension has ended."

"What?"

"We have arrived and are holding position at the outermost edge of Earth's system."

"But…nothing happened!" This had to be a joke or something.

"It only seemed that way to you because all thought and body functions ceased when the field activated."

"Then…geez." It was a hard thing to accept that all of that time had passed in an eye blink.

"Indeed geez, dear Peter. Come along to the command deck, there is something to look at for a change."

"Okay. Cool." He still felt like nothing at all had happened to him and he was correct in that matter. He hadn't aged a second in the way that his body counted time. In real time he was more than five months older.

--------------------------

"That's the sun, isn't it?" Peter was pointing to the brightest star in the immense universe projected around him.

"Yes, Peter. We are still too far away from it for it to produce much usable light or heat. We are just beyond Pluto's outer orbital limits."

"God. Then we really are here."

"Indeed we are."

"I…what do we do next?" It was all a very big transition that seemed to have happened in a literal eye blink.

"I think that you need some time to adjust to this, a day or so of thought and reflection. It is always a trying thing to undergo a period of suspension, even for the Trill."

"Then I'm not being too wimpy about this?"

"No, not at all. May I suggest a swim and meeting the new additions to the monkey clan? Then some lunch."

"New additions?"

"Yes. Two little ones were born while you were in suspension. I'm afraid I have had to institute stricter fertility control measures on them."

"Neat!" He still remembered how to grin.

-----------------------------

"I saw a good movie once, it was about these people picking up a radio signal from aliens somewhere."

"I can transmit on any wavelength. What sort of signal did you have in mind?"

"Well, maybe something simple at first. How about just counting from one to ten with beeps or something? You know, over and over. Then maybe if they notice us we can send some music or something."

"Some signal that cannot be attributed to natural phenomenon? "

"Yeah. I think." Peter wished he were older and smarter. In truth he was actually very bright, for a human.

"Commencing signal now. One to ten over ten seconds, then repeating. Frequency is one hundred megahertz, as humans measure such things."

"How strong is it? Will they hear it?"

"Signal strength is sufficient, Peter. Very strong."

Over one hundred million watts was being beamed in the direction of Earth. You could probably pick it up on a cheap portable radio. Maybe even on your dental fillings.

In any event it would take several hours for the signal to get there, even at 186,00+ mps.

----------------------------

"Peter?"

"Yes Mother." He was watching a repeat of a M.A.S.H. episode that was being relayed to the video display in his 'apartment.'

"I have an incoming transmission from Trill."

"Really?"

"Yes. On the video, now."

There was Holdsleaf in all of his/hers/its silly glory.

"Holdsleaf!"

"Hello, Peter. How are you progressing?" The question was only a polite formality; the Trill knew very well what had been occurring.

"Good! We're sending…or rather Mother is sending out a radio signal. I guess it's too soon to expect any sort of answer yet."

"Very good. Remember that patience is very much in order in this matter."

"I know. I still wish I could hurry up and get to Earth, to see my family."

"Respect and love of family is always at the fore in any good person's mind."

"Do the Trill love?" It was a question the boy had never thought to ask before.

"We do. It is a common thread in the lives of all reasoning beings."

"I sort of thought you did. How are you doing?"

"I am well. My work with you has been received favorably and I have been elevated to a minor post on the Committee staff."

"Just a minor post? What's the "Committee" anyway?"

"Even the most minor posting to the Committee is a very great honor for any Trill. The Committee is the governing body for all of the Trill."

"Oh! Then I'm happy for you. Congrats!"

"Congrats?"

"You know, congratulations. Well done!"

"Yes. Thank you, Peter. It would not have occurred without your help and cooperation in what was a difficult time for you. I thank you once more."

"Well, gee. You're welcome. This is nice seeing you again."

"It is nice seeing you also. Also I do not have to smell you over this remote link." Holdsleaf knew the boy's sense of humor by now, even if those also listening to the conversation were appalled and did not.

"Yeah, but I still have to look at you!" It took a few moments for the boy to stop laughing. If Holdsleaf had been capable of smiling he/she/it would have.

"Is there anything that I should be doing, you know different?"

"You have been and are doing very well, Peter. Maintain your steady path, resist the impulse to speed matters along too quickly."

"I know, stay cool and don't make any bull moves."

"Bull moves?"

"I heard it somewhere. It means take it easy."

"Then indeed make no "bull moves," Peter."

"Okay. You too."

"I shall behave…prudently. Goodbye for now, Peter."

"Goodbye, Holdsleaf. Stay cool."

"Always." Holdsleaf knew very well by know what "cool" meant.

---------------------------

Harold Abrams was a field rep for the FCC. He had tried to get a position as a station engineer for Denver's largest television station and had failed. The government wasn't as picky as the civilian market so here he was tracking down stray radio signal interference in the boondocks of America. Some asshole had been broadcasting 'beeps' at exactly one hundred megahertz, for days. There had been dozens of such complaints across the country, but in the tradition of the Federal Government, no analysis or dissemination of such reports had occurred.

"Piece of shit!" Harold was cussing at the direction finder in his van for the third time in the last hour. In any direction he pointed the damned roof mounted antenna it registered the same signal strength. He decided to just pull over and try the hand held DF, it couldn't do any worse than the overpriced pile of junk in the van. Only three beef cows and one crow were witness to the first real discovery of the signal from 'out there.'

"Crap! This is nuts!" Harold had pointed the hand held device at every point on the compass. The signal strength had remained the same. While taking a closer look at the frequency setting on the device Harold had inadvertently held it pointed it towards the sky.

"Jesus!"

The signal strength meter had almost pegged on the high side.

---------------------------------

USAF Space Command, Cheyenne Mountain "Is this some sort of April Fool's joke?" The watch commander was Brigadier General David Harmon. It wasn't even April and everyone knew better than to pull any stupid stunts like this.

"No sir. FCC, NSA and half the planet have picked up this signal." Major Charles Bannon stood his ground against Harmon's renowned bluster, the White House was even in the loop on this. The President wanted to know just what the hell was going on and just where that signal was coming from.

"Okay. Override current tasking and reassign the deep space tracking antennas at Shemya and Antelope Valley. Give them everything they want."

"Yes, sir."

---------------------------

"This is not working."

"Patience, Peter."

"We've been sitting here for almost a week! Can't we move in closer? Can you make the signal stronger too?"

"Yes to both of your questions. How close do you wish to go?"

"Mars."

"Indeed?"

"Yeah. Mars."

"Initiating new course and destination."

"Can we stop at Mars… to sort of look around for a little while?"

"If you wish to." Mother sounded rather put out.

"Is something wrong?"

"The objective is to make us known to Earth, not an exploration of the system."

"I know. You also said that I…we needed to be patient. We can transmit and listen just as easy at Mars."

"That is true, Peter. But do not lose sight of your main purpose."

"No, I haven't. And my family is on Earth! Don't you lose sight of that!"

It was the first sharp words that the boy had ever had with Mother and it was not lost on her.

"I apologize, Peter. There are many variables in this endeavor."

"I know. I'm sorry I snapped at you."

-----------------------------

The White House Oval Office "The source of the signal is shifting speed and course."

"Shifting?" The President was no dullard but had often been accused of being one. The 'thing' had already covered several billion miles in the matter of two days.

"Yes sir. It is decelerating on a curve to intercept Mars." NASA's liaison to the White House would have been sweating were it not for the multiple applications of deodorant, everywhere.

"Then the damned thing is a spacecraft, no doubt about it?"

"Absolutely, sir. It is beyond all doubt a craft from outside this solar system, controlled by some intelligence. It can also move like a bat out of hell. It was pushing nearly a million miles per hour before it started decelerating. And here's a kick in the pants. There has been no doppler shift in the signal and there should have been."

"Trot that by me again?"

"It's the old analogy of the train's whistle changing pitch as it approaches and then recedes into the distance."

"Then the signal should have changed frequency some?"

"It should have, sir. It didn't. Whoever or whatever it is compensated the transmission frequency for the speeds involved so that the frequency appeared to remain the same."

"Jesus." The President had on his table an interminable war in the Middle East, soaring gasoline prices, inflation, and unemployment. And now this. An alien spacecraft.

The biggest event since the dinosaurs went belly up.

"Sir, you need to make a public statement, today. This is all breaking loose very fast, the signal is too strong and…"

"I know. The cat's out of the bag and the mice are starting to panic."

"Yes sir."

"I'll ask the networks for some time."

There would also have to be some sort of effort to make contact with this 'thing'. Every government on Earth would want to get on that bandwagon.

--------------------------

Peter became the first human being to set foot on the Red Planet. It was somewhat of a letdown, like Death Valley in the off-season with no usable amount of air to breathe.

"Peter?" The boy was hunkered down peering at the tallest life form on Mars. It looked a little like a small thistle plant that was badly starved for food and water. The pathetic plants (if they were plants) only seemed to grow at the bottom of this vast canyon on the dusty planet. He hadn't seen anything at all that walked, crawled, hopped or slithered. Flying critters seemed out of the question. Had he dug a few inches under the dry soil he would have found what appeared to be armored 'earthworms' but not much else.

"There are developments on the television broadcasts."

"What?"

"Several heads of state, including the American President, have announced our presence to the public."

"About time! Great!" Peter stood up and turned towards the waiting shuttle.

"Perhaps you should return now? The broadcasts also mention widespread apprehension about who or what we may be. There have been some indications of heightened military preparations."

"Shit, on my way! There's not much to look at down here anyway." He also had to pee and really didn't want to try out the facilities in the space suit.

"Language, Peter."

"Sorry." Mother was worse than his real mother.

-------------------------

A hot shower had been in order after the hours in the confining spacesuit. Despite the Trill's superior technology, Peter had learned that one simply does not fart in a Trill spacesuit if it can be avoided. The suit's life support system seemed unable to cope with such emissions and you would never catch a Trill in a spacesuit in any event.

"Let's stop the signal and play some music. Maybe that will help calm things down."

"I concur, Peter. Any thoughts about what sort of musical selections we should use?"

"I guess something nice…classical, soothing."

"Perhaps Bach or Mozart? The Trill were very impressed with their compositions."

"Okay. Maybe later we can play something…cooler."

"Very well. Terminating our present signal. Music will commence in one minute."

"Good. Maybe we should start moving towards Earth too, but sort of slow. Give them all time to think."

"That is my inclination also, Peter. A period of adjustment."

"Yeah. What's for dinner?" Boys have their own priorities.

"Roast beef with suitable side dishes." Not that the beef in question had ever been walking around and mooing, it was grown from tissue cultures.

"Good. I'm starved."

"Then dry off and dress. It will be on the table."

-------------------------

Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring. It was about as peaceful and reassuring as music can ever be. Even Peter sort of liked it. Bach would have been honored by Mother's choice.

"That's nice. Play some more of that stuff."

"Yes, Peter. I shall also monitor the broadcasts for any responses."

"Cool." Peter managed a silent after dinner belch. Mother had enough data on human behavior to disapprove of bad table manners. The data had serious gaps in it but not too much got past 'her.' As each day passed Mother became more and more like the human she was programmed to emulate.

-------------------------

The White House "Bach?" The President thought that he had misheard.

"Yes sir. Right now one of the Brandenburg Concertos is playing."

The President swiveled his chair around and fiddled with the small radio on the shelf behind him; by now the signal could be picked up on any FM radio.

"I'll be dipped in shit. It is Bach! From a damned alien spacecraft!" The music was very clear and was as beautiful as it had ever been.

"That surely cannot be interpreted as any sort of a threatening message, Mister President." Jack Dalton was the President's Science Advisor and had been at the center of this storm from day one.

"It also says that whoever or whatever is in command of that spaceship knows more than a little about this planet and its inhabitants. That sort of scares me."

"It will probably scare a lot of people, sir. But many more people are bound to be reassured."

"I wish I was." The President turned again to look at the radio, as it trying to fathom the meaning of the music from outer space.

Dalton was preparing to leave when the phone on the President's desk chimed.

"It's for you." The President grinned and handed the handset to the slightly embarrassed Dalton. One rarely calls the Oval Office and asks the 'man' if they may talk to someone else in the historic room.

"Thank you sir, sorry."

It was obviously news that the Science Advisor had been waiting for, even so the man paled somewhat as he listened, said goodbye and then handed the handset back to the President.

"Well?"

"Mister President, the DSIR…the Deep Space Imaging Radar is up and running (out of mothballs) and has a preliminary estimate on the size and shape of the spacecraft."

"And?"

"Data indicates that it is spherical and quite large."

"How big for Chrissakes?"

"In the area of one kilometer in diameter."

"Are you shi…is that possible?"

"It might stand to reason that anything capable of interstellar travel might be very large. There have also been no indications about what propels the craft. Infrared imaging has detected no exhaust plume, no heat, nothing."

"Good God." The President was sure that he was a little scared now. Perhaps more than a little scared.

----------------------------

"There are now messages directed at us being transmitted on various wavelengths, Peter."

"What do they say?"

"They are for the most part inquiries about our intentions and cautious greetings. Some sort of reply is in order."

"Geez, I don't know what to say!"

"For now why not a simple acknowledgement of the messages and a statement of our peaceful intentions?"

"Okay. How do we send it?"

"You could record a verbal message that can be repeated between the musical selections."

"You record it. You sound better than I do."

"Peter, eventually you will have to be the one to make personal contact."

"I know, but for now you sound better than some nervous kid."

"Very well. How shall I identify this vessel?"

"Well…I call you Mother?"

"Yes, but that is my personal name, with you. As a vessel there is no name assigned."

"Oh. Lemme think a minute."

And he did.

"How about "Messenger" as a name?"

"Messenger it is then. A good choice, I believe."

"Thanks."

--------------------------

By now every person on the planet who possessed an FM radio was tuned to the 'station' from out there. Society pretty much came to a halt when an amazingly sexy voice followed after Beethoven's Piano Sonata Number Eight.

"This is Messenger. Thank you for your kind words of greetings. My intentions are peaceful contact, there is no cause for alarm and there is no danger."

Many would say it was Mae West, others would definitely say it was Marilyn Monroe. Some would opt for more recent sex goddesses.

They were all correct.

---------------------------

The White House (and every other nation's) Oval Office "My intentions?" Everyone was parsing that and trying to determine all that it implied.

"Not "Our intentions." It sounds like just one person, or…one thing." The President didn't know which way to jump. No one in the room did. The thing from 'out there' was getting closer by the hour. What would happen when it finally arrived?

---------------------------

"Peter, we must discuss our approach to Earth."

"Well… I thought we could just sort of orbit it."

"Yes, but at what distance and direction?"

"How about we match orbits with the space station."

"The ISS, the International Space Station?"

"Yeah. I was thinking… "Really?"

"Very funny. I was thinking that maybe that might be a good place to make a first contact, less people to get all panicky."

"A more controlled setting."

"Yeah. Then maybe sometime later I can go down to the…surface, to Earth."

"To the United States?"

"Well, sure. I guess so?"

"That would be the logical choice."

"My folks are there too."

"Yes, Peter. I know the importance of your getting to see them again."

---------------------------

International Space Station, east of the Canary Islands "So what the hell do we do?" Doctor Anne Whitmore was the station's resident materials research scientist and a civilian. Not that rank played for much aboard the orbiting research lab and tax boondoggle.

"As a practical matter there isn't much we can do but wait and see what happens." This from naval Commander David Haugton, the ranking military officer.

"Perhaps we should review our evacuation procedures just to be on the safe side?" Malcolm Blake was in charge of the station's power management and life support. He was also Britain's current representative aboard the station.

"We will, but I have to wonder just what we could really do to protect ourselves if that thing proves to be hostile?" Haughton was a realist above all. If the visitor had ill intent they were all probably cold meat or vaporized meat.

But then again it was playing classical music, not making threats or demands.

---------------------------

Mother was becoming visible. The vessel was at first only a pinpoint of light in powerful telescopes but was now visible to the naked eye. Human society was beginning to slow and finally take stock of this new reality. Suddenly national rivalries and petty disputes seemed to be just that, petty. Not to say that hostilities ceased between the warring nations in the Middle East, but the parties concerned were now looking over their collective shoulders and wondering what was next.

"Slowing to orbital velocity. Rendezvous with the ISS in twenty-seven minutes, twelve seconds."

"Neat. You really don't need to be so accurate, you know."

"Peter?"

"Seconds don't matter very much, Mother."

"Point taken."

"How close should we get?" Peter didn't want to spook the astronauts any more than they must already be.

"I have been planning on a distance of five-thousand meters. Is this acceptable with you?"

"Sure. Let's just not get really close, they might sort of freak out."

"Agreed."

-----------------------------

People left work and went home because there was a feeling that whatever came next they should be with family. The United States and indeed the world simply shut down and waited. All records were shattered for television viewing audiences. Everyone with a telescope or binoculars was outside looking to the heavens. When Messenger performed an impossible braking and course correction that put it into Earth orbit it became visible even on the daylight side of the planet. It became very visible to the astronauts aboard the ISS.

"If that thing collides with us we'll just be bug juice on its damned windshield!" Calvin Grebs had the center spot at the view port and like the others he now knew that humanity was no longer at the top of the intellectual food chain.

"It's holding its position. I have to think that they or 'it' knows what they are doing." Haughton's opinion seemed to be the consensus; anything that could voyage across interstellar space was probably capable of avoiding simple traffic collisions. In any event the thing was as big as a mountain, a very round and polished bronze mountain.

--------------------------------

Peter was on the control deck taking in the awesome view below and the space station just ahead.

"It looks sort of…delicate."

"There is no need for great structural strength in weightless conditions," Mother replied.

"Still, I feel safer here…rather than over there on that thing."

"Your suit and defensive shield will protect you. There is little need for concern in any event."

"Maybe I've been around Holdsleaf too long?"

"Prudent behavior and caution is always in order."

"Then I guess it's time to prudently and cautiously go over there for a visit. Assuming that they'll open the door and let me in."

"I suspect that they will. Shall I ask them for an invitation?"

"No. I'll just wave at them or something."

-------------------------------

"What's that?" Haughton, as did the others, had spotted a small point of light on the alien vessel as they orbited the night side of the planet. Binoculars were produced.

"It's a hatch or an opening! Something is coming out!"

It was a hatch. Not the enormous hanger port but a small personnel portal. You know what the "something" was.

"This is sort of scary!" Peter was trying to hold it all together as Mother gently pushed him out into space. There was no real sense of being high up, just of being so very small and helpless.

"I will now move you across to the station. There is no danger, remain calm." Mother was monitoring the boy's life signs and was aware of his pulse and respiration rate.

"Okay. Where do I knock?"

"My observations of the installation indicates an entrance portal on the main module. There is also a small viewing window with several humans watching our activities."

So far no attempt at radio communications had been attempted by either side.

"Then move me over to the window, so they can see me better. Then maybe they'll let me in."

"Agreed. Good luck, Peter."

"Luck?" Peter wondered if the Trill or their creations really believed in luck.

"Luck is a factor in all endeavors."

"You're telling me!"

-------------------------

An entire planet was watching everything that the astronauts could observe. NASA and the President could see little to be gained at any attempt at secrecy. What would be the point? The whole planet was in the same boat and it was in everyone's interest to know just where mankind stood in this meeting.

"Hammond!" Haughton barked at the junior astronaut from Texas and of late the Air Force Academy. Allowing academy graduates an early entry into the astronaut program had done wonders for academy entrance applications.

"Sir?"

"Suit up. You get to go shake hands with ET!"

Alice Hammond's reply is best left to the imagination but she did as ordered, in record time and with a lot of helping hands.

-------------------------

Peter had been clinging to the airlock handhold for what seemed like days. In reality it had only been about twenty minutes. He had earlier been moved by Mother into position in front of the observation port and had waved in a friendly manner. Peter's 'helmet' field had prevented any sort of positive recognition of him as human being; other than having two arms and two legs. He was also too small to be an adult human; maybe he was one of those bigheaded aliens with the gray skin and big black eyes?

Eventually the hatch swung open and Alice Hammond made her awkward appearance. It takes some time and effort to don a NASA spacesuit.

Peter waved again at the emerging figure.

The figure waved back and beckoned him with one hand to enter the cramped airlock.

"Mother?"

"Go ahead, Peter. It appears to be safe. I have been unable to detect any danger to you."

"Maybe they'll have Nintendo?"

"Peter?"

"Nothing. Just kidding."

"Indeed."

-------------------------------

Peter soon found himself facing nine people who were floating in odd positions in front of him. He was looking at actual, breathing human beings for the first time in almost two years.

They all seemed pretty tense.

"Helmet. Turn it off! " Peter said to himself.

The boy tapped the small panel on his left arm and his helmet simply disappeared with a distinct popping noise. Now the space alien was just a kid, a boy. A human being.

"Holy shit." Haughton said quietly. Most of humanity said much the same thing in every language. Everything occurring inside the station was being relayed around the planet with no delay or editing.

"Hi." Peter wished for the simple days when his biggest problem was the status of his homework.

After a bit Haughton moved (drifted) forward to extend his hand and say something truly profound for the history books.

"Hi kid, my name is David Haughton. What's yours?"

"Hello sir," Peter took the offered hand and shook it, "my name is Peter. Peter Hanson. From Red Bluff…in California."

With this statement the FBI, CIA and most of the United States Government went into a state best described as a total flap. Who was this kid?

And what was he doing on an alien starship?

---------------------------

"Son, we have a million questions for you. I'll ask the first one," Haughton began.

"Sure."

"Who else is aboard that…spacecraft?"

"There's just me. And Mother, of course."

"Your mother is over there?"

"Not my real mother. The ship is controlled and operated by a sort of intelligent computer, only more than a computer. More like a real person. Its name is Mother."

"Artificial intelligence?"

"Yes sir, very intelligent."

"Who or what built…?"

"The Trill. I've been with them for a while now."

"Trill? How did you get to be with them?"

"They sort of 'borrowed' me so they could make contact with Earth."

"Borrowed you? They abducted you?"

"Well, pretty much. They were really good to me though and did their best to make things nice. Can you maybe help me get in touch with my folks? They probably think I'm dead or something."

"They're probably watching this right now, the whole planet is."

"No shi…omyGod." Now Peter really felt like a fly on a dinner plate as the man pointed at the small video camera mounted on a bulkhead. He did manage a wave and a hello to his parents.

"Uh, hi Mom! Hi Dad! I'm okay!"

"These "Trill?" What are they like?"

"They're very smart. A lot smarter than I am. They…"

"What do they look like?"

"Sort of like a bird with no wings. Two arms, two legs. Smaller than we are and very, very goofy looking."

"Goofy?" Haughton finally had to smile, the boy was too.

"Totally. I laughed myself silly the first time I saw Holdsleaf."

"Holdsleaf?"

"That's its name, or that's sort of what it translates as. They only have one sex so there isn't really a he or a she."

"What do they want?"

"They would like to make a sort of business deal with us."

-----------------------------

Red Bluff Sheriff's Detective James Dutton literally fell off his chair when the kid that the whole world was watching said that he was Peter Hanson and then waved and said "Hi" to his folks. He was the Peter Hanson who had disappeared from east of Red Bluff almost two years ago. Dutton had never really given up on the case despite the dead end lack of clues or useful information.

"The Hanson kid!" Deputy Harriet Winslow was in the office with Dutton and she also remembered the name. Everyone in the department remembered, it had been a front-page story for days. Harriet also remembered another important fact.

The boy's parents were both dead. His sister was in a foster home.

"That poor kid. He hasn't a clue!"

--------------------------------

Peter had been answering endless questions until he was a little hoarse. It was time to end this first visit. With Mother's prompt heard only by him he minded his manners.

"So, can you all come over for dinner?"

Said the spider to the flies. The flies would need permission from NASA and the President.

"We only have the three EVA suits, Peter. Will three of us do?" Haughton asked.

"Oh. Sure. As many as you want. There's no rush or anything. Whenever you want to come. Mother's a good cook."

"Then we'll get in contact with you on our regular communications frequency, is that all right?"

"Oh sure. Mother has all of that stuff."

Mother could even listen in on their confidential and unbreakable encrypted links.

"She does?"

"Uh huh. She's pretty amazing."

If Mother could have smiled she would have.

After all of the handshakes and three kisses from the female astronauts Peter waved again to the camera.

"Bye Mom, Dad! See you soon I hope!"

---------------------------------

White House Cabinet Room "An American kid by God!" The President was as elated as the rest of the people sitting around the table. This gave the U.S. the inside track with whoever and whatever the hell the Trill were.

"Matt, what does FBI have on this boy so far?"

"I'm expecting a report any time now, Mister President. We've only had these last few minutes to start a data search." The Director held up his somewhat bulky cell phone, it was an encrypted model not yet available to the public. As if on cue the device rang quietly and the 'man' nodded for the Director to take the call.

All eyes were on the Director of the FBI as the man's face lost all of its elation and he finally replied to the caller.

"Is there any doubt about this?" And then after taking down some notes the Director ended the conversation and looked up at all of the faces turned in his direction.

"Matt?" The President like the others could see the distress on the man's face.

"Sir. Peter Hanson went missing in late August almost two years ago; the case is still open. He vanished without a trace and of course we now know why."

"And?"

"Both of his parents were killed in a traffic pileup on I-5 north of Sacramento about a year after he disappeared. Thick fog was blamed, six other people in other cars died also. Their daughter, she's six now, survived and is presently in a foster home. There seems to be no other close living relatives."

There was a collective intake of breath around the table. Now what do they do?

"My God. How do we tell him?" The Secretary of Defense looked like a man who had just been punched in the gut.

"I think for right now we don't tell him." The Vice President was known as a bit of a cold fish with more logic than emotion in his soul. He was also respected for his clarity of thought.

"He has to know," the President replied.

"Yes, but we can't just say hello Peter, welcome to America. By the way, your folks are dead."

"No. But this is going to get out and very soon. His little sister's foster parents will put two and two together, not to mention what the girl will say. The local police will start to talk. People will remember the boy." With this the President looked pointedly at the FBI Director.

"I'll get some people to pay a fast visit to the foster parents, ask them to stay mum for the time being. Also the authorities in California. Even so the local media are probably already scratching and digging for a story."

"Do it now. Get on the media people too; get them to see the need for a little restraint for the time being. That poor kid doesn't need to learn that his folks are dead by tuning into CNN."

"Yes sir."

It was a reasonable course of action but too many people knew who Peter was and what had happened to him and his family. It was on the networks even before the Cabinet meeting was concluded. A few people in the media had been decent enough to want to hold the story until the boy could be told, but they were in the small minority.

All of this was only a tiny portion of what was transpiring across the planet. For the most part there was great relief and the beginnings of a massive celebration; mankind wasn't facing some alien horror, just a normal looking kid who only wanted to reunite with his family. Not that everyone was pleased that it was an American child who was mankind's first interstellar voyager and ambassador.

Chapter Eight Family "Well, that went pretty well. What do you think, Mother?" Peter was in his 'apartment' and was tugging off the confining spacesuit. He was looking forward to a cooling dip in the pond.

"I would agree, Peter. You did well." Mother did not sound at all happy, though.

"Is something wrong?" At last he had the suit off.

"I have been monitoring multiple broadcasts about your visit. I am afraid there is some very distressing news."

"Huh? What's the matter? They asked a lot of questions, did I say something really stupid?"

"Dear Peter, sit down and understand that what I have to tell you is quite hard for me to say."

"Okay." He did sit down, something was very wrong.

"It concerns your parents."

"What about them?" Peter suddenly had an awful feeling in his middle.

"The accounts being broadcast say that your mother and father perished in an auto accident about one year ago. Your sister survived the mishap."

"But…"

"I am so very sorry, Peter. The multiple accounts seem to be factual as do the related accounts of your disappearance."

Peter just sat quietly for a time and Mother let him gather his thoughts as best he could. He was almost unable to form a thought.

"That's not fair."

"Peter?"

"It's not fair. All of this time I've been waiting to see…"

He couldn't finish the words. All of this time he had been waiting to see his parents, and they were dead now. They had been dead while he had been doing his very best to get home to them.

It wasn't fair. Life isn't.

"Peter, even the Trill eventually lose those that they care for, those that they love. This comes to all beings sooner or later." The artificial intelligence felt awkward and ill programmed for this sort of situation. There were limiting parameters in Mother's emotions, lest she become unstable. Mother was at those limits now and could go no further with her feelings.

"Mother?"

"Yes, Peter?"

"Thank you for being so…good, but can you sort of leave me alone for a while, please?"

"Of course." And she did.

---------------------------------

ISS, over western Cuba "This is the International Space Station calling Messenger. Are you receiving us?" Haughton had just been briefed by NASA in Houston about the boy's family and felt like a total ass making this call.

Mother took it upon herself to form a reply; Peter was by now in no condition to reply to anything or anyone.

"This is Messenger. We are receiving your transmission."

"Mother?" Haughton really felt like an ass asking that.

"Yes. I have informed Peter a short time ago of the loss of his parents, he is in some…distress at the moment. May I be of any assistance to you?"

"Then he knows. We were afraid he would hear it from the media. Will you extend our condolences to the boy?" Haughton couldn't believe that he was talking to an artificial intelligence.

"Of course. We appreciate your concern. I'm afraid for now that the dinner invitation must be withdrawn with apologies."

"Yes, that goes without saying. Will you keep us informed about Peter? The whole planet cares a great deal about that boy. If there is any service that we can do, anything at all, just say the word."

"Your kind words are appreciated and I shall tell Peter of them. I shall also contact you as events warrant."

"Then we will wait for your call."

"Thank you again for your concern."

-----------------------------

Eventually the press ferreted out the whereabouts of Peter Hanson's little sister. The modest home on the outskirts of Red Bluff quickly took on the appearance of a made for television-hostage movie. Network satellite trucks were actually paying neighbors to park on their lawns and for access to their bathrooms.

Dianne Hanson didn't understand most of it, just that her big brother was still alive. The big brother who had once upon a time peeked in her door every night before he went to bed to see if she was all right and mostly under the covers. The big brother who had always helped her to get dressed every morning and who would put himself between her and any real or imagined meanies who might be after her.

------------------------------

"Peter?"

The boy had been curled up on his bed for some time now and hadn't been answering any of Mother's gentle inquiries. Finally he stirred and did answer her.

"What?" Very soft, just a whisper.

"I have informed Holdsleaf about what has occurred, it wishes to speak with you when you feel able."

"Okay. Wait a little while." Grief or not he had to attend to bodily functions and then splash some cold water on his face. It seemed to clear his head but did little to dispel the cold emptiness where his parents used to be. They were certainly not candidates for Parents of The Year but they had loved him and he had loved them.

"I've been sort of rude to you. Sorry."

"There has been no rudeness, Peter. This is a hard time for you." Mother could sense that perhaps the boy was past the sharpest edge of his loss but there was still a flat tone in his voice that she had never cataloged before.

"Does Holdsleaf still want to talk to me?"

"Yes, Peter. On the video screen in two minutes."

"Okay."

Peter gathered himself and plodded into the living room area to sit and wait for the Trill to appear. There was no show of emotion on his face, something else that Mother cataloged.

For this one time the boy did not smile at the absurd looking "space chicken" as it appeared on the wall screen.

"Hello Peter. There is much concern for you here."

Indeed there was concern for the whole contact project.

"Hi Holdsleaf, thank you."

"It has been discussed within the Committee that we were remiss in not tracking your family more closely for you. We have perhaps been too focused on our contact project and not enough on your needs as a person."

High level dithering on a grand scale had occurred.

"You can't think of everything. Don't feel bad about it."

"Thank you for that. Is there anything that we may do to be of any comfort to you?"

"Can I go away someplace for a while? I don't feel much like being any sort of ambassador right now."

"Of course. A period of reflection is in order and expected of a Trill in a time like this, also for a human."

"Thanks. I'll still do my best for you, just not right now. Please."

"You are a credit to your kind, Peter. Take the time that you need. Matters will wait."

"Okay."

"Then goodbye for now. When you feel restored we will speak again."

"Okay. Thanks, Holdsleaf."

"Once more Peter, thank you."

----------------------------

"Mars."

"Are you certain, Peter? There is little there to…"

"Yes. That's why I want to go back, there's not much there."

"Very well. Departing Earth orbit now."

------------------------------

NORAD, Cheyenne Mountain "Holy crap!" The watch commander was already picking up 'the phone' that only the President answered.

Messenger had practically left a hole in space with its departure. No human could possibly survive the G-forces involved, but then no human needed to. Mother was not constrained with the primitive concepts that mankind had about inertia and motion.

Messenger was orbiting Mars six hours later.

-----------------------------

Mother had spotted the ruins on her ninth orbital scan of the surface. They weren't much at all to look at from above, in fact no NASA photographic survey had ever picked them out. Most of it was below ground. Mother decided that it would be a diversion for the unhappy boy to explore the site, carefully and prudently of course. After two days he took her up on her offer of something to do besides mope around Messenger and burst into tears at odd moments.

"This place is pretty spooky looking." Peter was standing in front what might be mistaken for a small cliff face with a low, square tunnel cut into it. It was in fact not a cliff but an artificial formation of manufactured composition. Any markings must have been eroded away eons ago by the thin but high-velocity sandstorms that covered vast areas of the planet from time to time "I have no references for any intelligent habitation on this planet. The structure matches none of the architectural styles for any species that are on record. This was not constructed by any life form native to this planet."

"So you're saying that you haven't a clue either?" Peter was after these last days beginning to return to a semblance of his former self, once more interested and curious about things.

"I indeed have no clue."

"Never thought I would hear you say that."

"Peter?"

"Nothing. I'm gonna go in a little ways, just to see what I can."

"Caution, Peter. Observe your footing and be alert."

"Okay, Holdsleaf."

Mother knew that she had just been called a chicken but let it pass in silence.

The light level dropped off rapidly as the boy edged his way into the dusty tunnel. A subway train could have easily fit in the ancient bore. After a moment he remembered the tiny but powerful lights built into each of his suit's shoulders.

"Aagghh!"

There was metallic green monster out of hell crouching in front of him. It was as big as a bus and looked like a cross between a tiger and an angry squid.

Mother could see everything that the boy could from his suit's video link, and more.

"It is a statue, Peter. Remain calm."

"Yeah! I can see that now! It scared the crap out of me!"

"It is impressive. There are no energy readings of any sort, it is inert."

"Geez! What the hell is it? It looks like it's made out of some sort of metal or something."

"Again, I have no reference. Readings indicate that it is very old, perhaps older than the Trill civilization."

"Peter?"

"Yeah?" The boy had ventured close enough to the statue to run his hand over the untarnished metal. For some odd reason there did not appear to be one tiny speck of dust on it.

"I have completed a deeper probe of this area from orbit. The space behind the statue appears to be an enormous vault, or perhaps a tomb of some sort. There are intricate structures behind the far wall, behind the statue. There also seems to be some sort of active geothermal tap power source."

"A tomb? Power source?"

"Possibly and yes."

"Then I'm outta here!"

"Perhaps that is the most prudent course of action."

Peter had read about tombs and curses and booby traps. He'd seen the Indiana Jones movies too.

It was indeed the prudent course of action to get the hell out of this creepy place.

Maybe some other time.

-------------------------------

Feeling sorry for one's self is at best a waste of time. Peter finally came to realize this and was lately thinking more and more of his little sister. Dianne was the only family he had left and he was her only family. She was on another planet, not here on spooky old Mars. He was very tired of being lonely, Mother or not.

It was time to go home and find her.

"Mother?"

"Yes, Peter?"

"Let's radio the ISS and see if they still want to come to dinner."

"Very good, Peter. Shall I also depart for Earth?"

"Yes. Floor it!"

"Floor it?"

"Go fast, please."

"Departing now."

-----------------------------

Washington D.C - Office of The Attorney General "This is a hell of a mess! The AG was between several rocks and any number of hard places.

"State and Federal law leaves us little wiggle room once that boy sets foot on U.S. territory." Janet Wainwright was a consulting expert on family law and the subject of adrift juveniles in general.

"We also cannot take that boy into any sort of protective custody," the AG added, "the entire world would scream bloody murder! We would be painted as trying to take control of him and that monster space ship that even now is reported to be hauling balls back here! Pardon my French." The AG was truly on the spot and the President had been of late putting a little political distance between himself and the Justice Department. Any politician worthy of the title has above all else, an excellent sense of self-preservation.

"He's going to want to see his little sister. What if they both decide that the girl is going to live with him on that spaceship? And from my own personal point of view, who could blame them?"

"Perhaps we can sit down with him and try to work out some sort of arrangement, some sort of limited parental supervision or something that will satisfy the law?" Janet wasn't sure what such an arrangement might be, there was no legal precedence for something like this. The tabloids had already dubbed Peter as the "Space Orphan." Then there was the question of his diplomatic status as a representative of a foreign power and the massive legal rat nest that opened.

"And if he says, "hand over my little sister, or else" what do we do?"

"Do you think he might use force?" This question from the California Attorney General who was also present for this meeting.

"Who knows? He seems like a good kid but he's been through the wringer these last two years. Lord knows that space ship probably isn't armed with just a sexy voice. Hell, he could squash half of D.C. just by landing it here! Assuming the thing can land."

"Space Orphan" or not, Peter was in fact a U.S. citizen, a minor, and an orphan without adult supervision (intelligent space craft not withstanding). Even if the government held off on any action it was agreed by all at the meeting that sooner or later some private party or organized group of hand wringers would file a whopping custody lawsuit that would have excellent legal underpinnings.

It was all going to get very messy.

---------------------------

"How should we do this?" Peter was in the command chair looking across at the ISS.

"Perhaps you might take one of the open utility sleds across and ferry them back here, rather than myself pulling them over with a focused field."

"Not as scary that way?"

"Yes. We must be considerate of our guests."

"I saw this TV program once…about astronauts and stuff. It said that it was hard on them when there was all of a sudden gravity again, when they landed on Earth after being in space a long time."

"That is true. I will lower the gravity on the all but the greenhouse deck to ease their adjustment."

"Cool. Why not on the…?"

"It would tend to upset the monkeys and other life forms."

Peter smiled and nodded in agreement; he had a sudden vision of panicked monkeys bouncing off the overhead.

Then there was the matter of dinner. What to serve and how to serve it.

"You do spaghetti pretty good, how about that?" Peter suggested.

"Thank you. That would seem to be a good choice."

"Uh…these are grownups, adults and all. My mom and dad like to…" Peter had to stop for a moment after realizing what he had just said before he continued. "They liked to have wine with dinner sometimes, especially with Italian stuff."

"Wine?"

"Yeah. Can you make some? Red?"

"I am afraid that I have no precise formulas on file for wine, can you further describe the beverage and its taste?"

"Well… I only had a sip once or twice, I asked them what it tasted like and they let me try a little. Sort of like grape juice with some alcohol added. Actually I didn't like it that much but they did."

"Fermented grape juice. I shall do some experimentation for you to sample."

"Experimentation?" Peter suddenly felt that he was going to be the guinea pig.

"I will observe all of the safety protocols." The Trill had a great many safety protocols, perhaps all that there were.

"Okay. Cool."

Sort of.

"They'll probably want to take pictures or maybe some video."

"I see no issue with that, Peter. It may ally any mistrust that might exist if all can see that no hostile forces exist here."

___________________ ISS, south of Bermuda Haughton pulled rank and included himself in the dinner party, the rest had to draw straws. Alice Hammond got lucky as did Jacob Lyman, the research biologist from Canada.

"We should bring a present or something." Alice said as she began the process of suiting up.

"A bottle of wine?" Haughton asked with a smirk.

"No. Something that the boy might like."

Everyone then turned to look at David Hemmings, the life support and hydroponics geek.

"Not my stash!"

Hemmings had a much-coveted collection of smuggled candy bars, they seemed to be the guy's only vice.

"Just a few, for good interstellar relations," Haughton smiled.

"Shit! Okay, but I better be on the next list to go visiting!"

They also came up with a new NASA T-shirt that hadn't been worn yet.

"Something's happening!" Paul Ruel was stationed at the view port as a lookout. The main hanger door on Messenger was moving aside.

"Jesus! Look at the size of that thing! You could drive a battleship through there!" Ruel was soon crowded to one corner as the others floated over for a look.

"It's just a hatch though, not an airlock! You can see inside! What's holding in the air?" Ruel demanded.

"Look real close," Haughton said, "that shimmer around the edge of the opening."

"Good God," Hemmings whispered as he squinted his eyes, "it's a damned force field or something, just like in Star Wars!"

"Let's face it people, we're way out of our weight class here. Now let's all get ready to go for a visit and be very polite when we do."

-------------------------------

The 'sled' was a flat, open sort of flyer designed for moving bulky items; it rather resembled an oversized inflatable life raft. Mother had installed a simple system of handholds and boot restraints to keep the astronauts in place. Peter had a small command seat up front and made his best effort yet at a smooth crossing and rendezvous. He surprised the astronauts by talking to them on their suit frequency.

"Hello, all aboard for Messenger."

"Hello again, Peter." Haughton replied, "How are you holding up?"

"Better, sir. I just needed some time away from everything, sorry I left in such a rush."

"No problem, you had good reason to."

Peter nudged the sled up against the outer ring of the station's airlock and pointed to the handholds on the sled. Everyone got a handshake (glove shake?) as they floated into position. There was a picnic cooler-sized pressure container that held Peter's modest gifts and some NASA jumpsuits for the astronauts to don after arriving at Messenger. The box also contained most of the small cameras and film that was aboard the station. Lyman held a small 'space-proof' video camera.

Haughton jammed the box in place with one foot and gave the go ahead to Peter.

It took a few moments; you don't make any fast moves in a bulky NASA spacesuit in zero gravity. Finally they were all in place and the boy eased the sled away from the station.

"Peter, what the heck makes this thing go?" Alice asked as they turned in a smooth arc for Messenger.

"Holdsleaf wasted an awful lot of time trying to explain it all to me, something about modifying gravity and some other stuff. Maybe Mother can explain it to you, I sure didn't understand any of it."

---------------------------

"Jesus Jumping Christ!" Lyman said under his breath, "look at that!" He was filming and pointing at the exposed massive cross section of the hull as they entered; Mother was built like a bank vault. It was indeed a scene right out of a Star Wars film as Peter carefully guided the sled through the portal and then to a gentle contact with the curving deck. And there was air pressure again as the joints in the astronauts suits suddenly became easier to move.

"Welcome aboard Messenger, Peter and myself are at your service." Mother's intimate voice could make a dead man lust for female companionship.

Finally Haughton found his voice.

"Thank you, Mother. This is…very impressive." Haughton hadn't been impressed by much of anything since the time his T-38 trainer had flamed out over Texas just after takeoff. The astronauts were also experiencing the return of gravity, albeit only a very weak gravity.

"If there is any need or any service I may do for any of you merely say my name and I will attend you."

Peter thought she was spreading it on a little thick but these were after all, honored houseguests.

"You may be pretty busy, Mother. We all have several thousand more questions for you and Peter."

"Again, welcome. I have reduced the gravity setting to one-tenth for your comfort except on the greenhouse deck. I will gradually increase the setting as time progresses and your bodies adapt. Please let me know if you are having any physical difficulties."

"You have artificial gravity?" Alice Hammond asked with poorly concealed awe.

"Of course." Mother replied as if it were a question about having electricity and indoor plumbing.

Peter was for now very happy to just let Mother do the talking.

The boy stood from the pilot's seat and turned off his helmet field. This was a signal for the astronauts to unfasten their helmet faceplates and to breath the pure air of Messenger.

"Are you all okay?" Peter asked.

"Speaking for myself, yes." Haughton replied as he tried to look in every direction at the same time. "What is that?"

Haughton was pointing at the largest craft on the deck, the airliner-size orbital shuttle was floating as always a few feet from any contact with the deck. None of the craft of the hanger deck ever actually touched down on anything. Lyman was videotaping everything in sight and there was a lot in sight.

"Oh, that's just sort of my own shuttle. For going down to the surface and stuff," Peter replied as if describing his old Wal-Mart bicycle.

"I think I'll just retire and maybe open a hardware store," Haughton said under his breath.

"Sir?"

"Nothing, son. This is a lot for us all to take in. Give us some time."

"Yes sir. Imagine how I felt waking up on Trill."

"I can't imagine that, son. You have my respect for still being sane. We all wish that things with your family had turned out different for you."

"Well…thank you sir. I guess I'm mostly sane, sort of."

"Amen to that. You're as sane as the rest of us, maybe more so right at this moment."

----------------------------

"If you will return to the transport I will take you up to the living quarters. You may rest and change into the clothing that you have brought." Mother, as always, had gentle but difficult to ignore words. The astronauts could have spent days just wandering in a daze around the vast bowl that was the hanger deck but they had been invited to dinner. Besides, a NASA spacesuit is somewhat akin to wearing several straight jackets and a couple of arctic survival parkas. Comfortable clothes and a real dinner suddenly sounded very appealing.

"Do you feel okay? With the gravity?" Peter asked.

"Speaking for myself, I'm fine. What…percent of…?" Haughton did feel fine, not like the last time he had been abruptly thrust back into a full one-gee environment.

"I have you at fifteen percent of Earth normal at present," Mother explained, "please inform me if the gradual increase becomes too severe."

The boy was very much at home with the low gravity. During the long and tedious hours spent waiting for Earth to notice them he had at Mother's suggestion used the hanger deck for low gravity gymnastics and general goofing off. Even in his space suit Peter could show off a bit and executed a straight up leap and summersault, landing once more on his feet.

"Peter!" Mother sounded a little impatient with him.

"Okay. Sorry."

"Thank you. Now let's make our guests comfortable."

Peter turned to the amused and amazed astronauts, "We'd better go now, Mother might send me to bed without dinner."

"Has she ever done that to you?" Alice asked with a smile.

"Not actually. She did zap me with some cold water once while I was taking a shower."

"Why?"

"I sort of used the 'f' word by mistake while I was talking about the stupid Giants blowing another game."

"Then she should have zapped you."

"Thank you Alice," Mother interrupted, "now all aboard for dinner, please."

-----------------------------

The slow trip up the central shaft again had the astronauts awed to the point of being speechless. It was a quantum leap in thinking to accept this new reality. What was high-tech and cutting edge technology such a short time ago was now rendered hopelessly primitive in the face of all of this. One may as well have asked a citizen of colonial America to cope with ride in a Boeing 767.

A brief pause at the entrance to the greenhouse revealed a lush and green part of Earth that seemed very much needed in this alien starship.

"You have to let us see that! Can we go in?" Alice Hammond fairly pleaded.

"Perhaps a bit later might be better, Alice." Mother explained, "The gravity on that deck is at one hundred percent out of deference to the animal life."

Alice was silent for a moment trying to cram all of this place into her mind, then a simple question occurred to her.

"How do you control the gravity?"

"Wait!" Peter interrupted in a mock panic.

"What's wrong?"

"Don't ask Mother questions like that, she'll answer them!" Peter was smiling but he was also being truthful.

"And…?"

"You'll be listening to her for weeks and you still won't understand what she's talking about. Trust me, I know!"

"Well thank you very much Peter," Mother interjected, "you may now go to bed without your dinner."

"See what I have to put up with?" Peter's question lacked very much sincerity. Mother was in reality the best sort of companion and guardian, save that you could never give her a hug.

It was a good moment and even Mother had been very amused. Peter was smiling again too.

------------------------------

"Are you all feeling up to a short walk?" Mother asked as the astronauts awkwardly followed Peter's lead and stepped off the sled and into the wide entrance to the quarters deck. There was still only a small percentage of normal gravity and it tended to make one move in slow motion. Haughton answered for them all, if a little hesitantly.

"Yes, we're fine. Just give us a few more minutes to sort of take a look at all of this."

"Of course."

There was a lot more to take in. The spacesuit-clad astronauts had just been dropped into a hotel that had no earthly rival for luxury and unrestrained opulence.

Jacob Lyman finally managed to work his feet and carefully moved over to examine the flowing decorations on the curving wall/ceiling.

"Those are rubies," he declared as he leaned over to peer closely at some of the highlights in the design. "I worked for my uncle two years in his jewelry store in Queens, when I was in college. Those are rubies!"

"You said that already," Haughton replied. "Mother, are they?"

"Yes, I believe that that is the proper name for the crystalline decorations."

"And is that gold in the…?"

"Yes. It is very resistant to corrosion and is pleasing to the eye."

"You're telling me. Mind if I pry out something to take home some as a souvenir?"

"You are most welcome to."

"Just kidding, Mother. This vessel is…amazing."

"I will take that as a compliment."

Peter had grown to accept Messenger's furnishings as a matter of routine. This encounter reminded him of where he been these last months and where he still was.

--------------------------

Eventually the astronauts found themselves in the sprawling 'apartment' that Mother had modified for their visit. It was as always a struggle to remove the bulky suits, even in the lowered gravity.

Peter had opted for modesty and retreated to his own rooms to change into his Sunday-best dinner garb that Mother had recently fabricated. The astronauts had brought their own change of clothes and were well into them when the boy returned. Peter was clad in what appeared to be a black jumpsuit with a thin line of gold trim around the low collar and the cuffs. Some considerable effort by Mother and the boy had gone into the design of his new togs. Even his new low-cut boots were an improvement over the sock/sandals he had become used to.

"We've brought some small gifts for you, Peter." Alice began. "They aren't very much, I'm afraid we didn't have too much to choose from on the station."

"Snickers!" Peter fairly beamed as he accepted the candy bars. He had never thought to ask the Trill or Mother if they could concoct something like the gooey bars.

"And this ratty T-shirt…" Haughton added a bit lamely as he held up the NASA emblazoned shirt. "It's the last new one we had."

"Cool!" It would soon become the boy's nightshirt since it was about nine times too large for him.

Alice came close and peered at the fabric of Peter's jumpsuit. Then she ventured to touch the air-soft garment. "What is that material?" It seemed to shimmer and glint when the light caught it, yet it felt so very soft.

"I dunno, Mother made it for me."

"Mother?" Alice looked around as if searching for her; it was the common reaction of all of the astronauts when they spoke to the unseen intelligence.

"It is a synthetic composed of alloyed carbon and chromium that is formed into faceted fibers to reflect the light in a pleasant manner." Mother's explanation was a study in brevity; luckily Alice hadn't asked her how it was made.

"Oh." Now Alice was starting to say it too. How in the world could you make a soft fabric out of carbon and chromium? But if course it was how in 'another' world that you could. Any earthly fashion designer would have gladly killed to lay their hands on such fabrics.

---------------------------------

In time the astronauts followed Peter into the commons area that had been for this moment arranged as a formal dining room. A very large and very formal dinning room.

"Holy shit." Alice said it before thinking, in truth all of the astronauts were thinking it.

The dinner service was apparently fashioned from beaten gold with silver inlays and jeweled accents. The wine goblets were blue-tinted carbon crystal (diamond, for those of you lacking in a proper education). There were fresh flowers from the greenhouse deck.

Peter and Mother had done some considerable dithering over this table and this moment.

The astronauts nearly bolted when the serving floaters entered and started to place the meal's components on the table.

"Stay cool," Peter urged, "they don't expect a tip after we eat."

They didn't stay too cool at first but did manage to keep their seats.

--------------------------------

"Peter, will you say grace?" Alice caught everyone off guard with this direct and open request.

"Uh…okay. Sure." A few seconds of panic passed before he found the words that had seldom been said around his family's table. "Lord, thank you for this food and the good people who are at this table today. And for Mother. Amen."

Even Mother was touched and she was an agnostic, as were all of the Trill. The Trill were a very old race and they were wise enough by now not to pretend to have all of the answers to all of the big questions.

"This is good!" Haughton was no gourmand but he knew decent spaghetti when he slurped it.

No one had tried the wine yet.

"Peter, what's next on your…agenda? What are you going to do next?" Lyman asked as he picked up his wine glass that was worth a small fortune. Perhaps a large fortune.

"I'm not really sure. Maybe landing somewhere if I get invited. I really want to find Dianne, my sister."

Lyman nodded and took a sip of the 'wine.' He did manage not to make the face that the wine merited. In time he managed a civilized response.

"Mother, what is this…what sort of wine is this?"

The wine was truly like grape juice spiked with Sterno.

"Is the flavor as it should be? This has been the subject of some lengthy discussions between Peter and myself."

By now the other astronauts had sipped the nectar of the gods and to their credit had not spewed it across the table.

"Mother," Haughton began simply, "we do not in any degree wish to be seen by you or Peter as poor dinner guests, but this 'wine' still needs some serious work."

"I thought it was pretty good," Peter said in all innocent honesty. It was a little like grape Cool-Aide with a punch.

Sort of.

"I do apologize," Mother began, "we had little to base our formulations upon. We…"

Alice interrupted with a wide smile on her face.

"Mother, Peter. You have both done so very much that is exactly right for our visit with you. The wine is…memorable in that you have tried so very hard to make us welcome guests. I for one am honored to lift a toast to you and to one and all at this table for this good day!"

They did toast the occasion, never mind that the wine tasted like grape Cool-Aide and off-brand anti-freeze.

Proper wine would become almost an obsession for the artificial being that was Mother; she did not accept failure as a matter of course.

----------------------------------

"Peter, there has been a lot of talk on the networks, the television news programs, about what is to become of you. What is it that you really have in mind for the rest of your life?" Lyman's after dinner question cut right to the core of what everyone had been thinking about.

"I want to do the best job I can at making a good contact between the Trill and us…humans. I also want to find my little sister. I think I want to find my little sister first."

"There are already some arguments about your legal status, about whether or not you are to be granted the status of an ambassador of a foreign power or are you just an American kid with no parents to take care of you."

"Maybe I'm sort of both, but I'm gonna find my sister and she can live with me here on Messenger…if she wants to and I think she will!" Peter's forceful reply surprised everyone at the table, including the boy.

"Son, I think everyone with any soul at all will sympathize with your feelings," Haughton began, "but there are a lot of hungry lawyers looking to make a name for themselves. It may be a hard road for you to travel to be with your sister."

"Yes sir. I don't want to sound like a smart ass…alec, but if you sort of look around you can see that maybe I can make some roads…hard for other people to travel, and for lawyers."

"Would you take her by force?"

"Yes. If she wants to be with me."

It was suddenly not so warm and cozy around the ornate table.

Alice broke the temporary ice by changing the subject.

"Just before we left the ISS there was a press release from the White House. You too are being invited to dinner, by the President. They also want to discuss the Trill and their offer of a 'business' arrangement."

"Mother?" Peter had not heard about that tidbit of news.

"The American broadcasts have in the last few minutes been repeating the same message that I have been receiving on the communications frequencies."

"Well…?"

"You are indeed invited to dinner at the White House, at your convenience."

"Oh. Cool! Maybe they'll tell me how to find my little sister?"

"Possibly. Some tact and diplomacy will be in order."

"Yes Mother, I'll talk nice and mind my manners."

--------------------------------------

Mother and Peter had also improvised some modest gifts for their houseguests.

"There's some medicine stuff in here that the Trill figured out from the samples they took." Peter handed the page-sized viewer device to Haughton. The boy did not really fully appreciate just what it was that he was handing over to humanity. The device itself was roughly the dimensions of a standard sheet of paper and was perhaps a half-inch thick. One merely touched the points on the page that held one's interest. It was somewhat akin to the Internet, save that it actually worked. In time the device and all of its contents would be photographed by everything that could record any sort of image.

"Medicine stuff?"

"There are specific remedies for the human genetic abnormalities that result in unrestrained cell proliferation," Mother explained.

"Cancer?" Haughton almost dared not to breath while waiting for the answer.

"Yes. Also there is a method for rendering specific viral organisms inert."

"AIDS?"

"I believe that is the correct term for one of the maladies."

"Oh." Now the brass-hard Haughton was saying that word.

"Sweet Jesus. Thank you for this." Haughton and the others were again moved to that place where mere words were not sufficient.

Everyone got a nice 'wristwatch' also. The small device had a blank view screen until you asked it the correct time. There were also other features.

The Trill probes had scanning methods that amassed far more information than could ever properly be processed by the contact project. Most of that information was in the wristwatch's database, all you had to do was ask it a question. It was a bit hard on the eyes though, the text wasn't really large enough, nor the images. Luckily there was an audio-only mode.

"You can talk to Mother or me with it too." Peter explained as he handed out the watches. "Just press the button-thing on the side and Mother will answer."

"It has a radio transmitter in it?" Lyman asked.

"Not as such," Mother explained. "There is a non-space link embedded in the device. You should avoid any attempt at examining the interior of the watch as that might discharge the power supply."

"Short it out?" Haughton asked.

"Yes. It would be hazardous to be in the immediate vicinity."

"Oh."

The watches were also rather nice to look at as a piece of jewelry, what with the gold case and the faceted gems. NASA would later try to confiscate the devices as government property but finally backed down when Haughton explained that they were personal gifts from Mother and Peter. Haughton would also explain that he owned several large firearms and would personally shoot the first son-of-a-bitch who tried to take away his new wristwatch.

----------------------------

The White House There were two lines of thought about whether or not to bring Peter's sister to Washington for a reunion when he arrived for the state dinner.

"It could get really nasty when the dinner is concluded and we have to tell the boy that no, he can't take his sister home with him." The Vice President wanted no part in bringing the girl to meet her brother. "All of the television cameras on the continent will be watching."

"This is something that we will have to face sooner or later," the President countered. "As it is we'll be lucky if were not slapped with a court order to detain the boy while he's having his dessert."

As predicted it was getting nasty and the "space orphan" hadn't even set foot on Earth.

----------------------------

Before the astronauts returned to the ISS the big questions were asked, the ones that had been skirted around at dinner. They had all gathered in Peter's quarters and sat around the muted video display.

"They want humans as mercenaries?" Alice asked with some disbelief.

"Merci…?" Peter wasn't too sure about the term "Soldiers for hire."

"Oh. Well…yes and no. For exploration work too, not just as soldiers. Mostly for exploration stuff."

"And in return?" Haughton asked with some emphasis.

"We get the stars."

"What?"

"Interstellar travel, colonies where we want in uninhabited systems. All sorts of cool technical stuff." Peter thought it was a good business deal.

It was. There had never been a better offer in the long history of deals of any sort.

"The stars." Haughton could barely grasp the concept. A trip to Mars had been his lifelong ambition but now that seemed pointless. The universe was lying open at mankind's feet if they accepted the deal.

"What if the…Trill aren't satisfied with our services?"

"Sir?"

"I mean, we are nowhere near them in technical development."

"I can pilot one of their shuttles and even this starship and I'm just a kid. The Trill never do anything very fast. They've been checking us out for maybe fifty years now. If they want us as partners then they must think we'll do okay for them."

"Well son, that sounds pretty convincing to me but we don't even really know what these Trill look like. There has to be some sort of communication between us."

"Yes sir." Peter paused for a moment before saying anything else. "Mother, is it all set up?"

"Yes Peter. Incoming traffic from Trill in one minute."

"Cool."

Again, as always, dithering had transpired at the very highest levels before it was decided to talk face to face with mature specimens of humanity.

"Peter, what's happening?" Alice asked as the video display went black.

"Holdsleaf is going to say hi to you all. Try not to be rude and laugh like I did the first time I saw it. It's funny looking but smarter than anyone in this room. It's also a good person."

"Holy shit," Alice whispered. They were going to see an honest to God alien.

Without warning or preamble Holdsleaf's silly visage blinked on in living color and full depth. As always the alien's tiny head seemed to bob and weave just a little.

Alice clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle her laugh, the other two just grinned from ear to ear.

"Holdsleaf! How are you?" Peter was very glad to see his odd friend again.

"I am well Peter, and you?"

"I'm fine! I have guests, as you know."

"Indeed. It is my honor and pleasure to meet you all."

Actually Holdsleaf had almost molted at the very idea of meeting adult humans; but then several thousand light-years did separate them. Still… After a time Haughton composed himself and found his voice.

"Holdsleaf. An honor to meet you, sir. My name is David Haughton."

"The honor is mine, David Haughton." The Trill did not intend to correct the enormous human's use of the term "sir."

"Peter and Mother have been very good hosts and we thank you for your hospitality also."

"Then we are both pleased. Has Peter discussed the purpose of this contact?"

"He has. We've been asking him a million questions too."

"I see. Does our offer seem…reasonable to you?"

"To me, yes. It seems very reasonable but you must understand that at this moment I do not represent my government or any other government in this matter. Official decisions will take some time."

"Certainly. The Trill are also prudent and cautious in these sorts of beginnings."

"There is one thing I must ask you, about Peter." Haughton had no smile as he said that.

"Of course."

"Did you really abduct him?"

Everyone, including Holdsleaf, seemed to freeze for a moment. This was a question that had to be asked sooner or later.

"Our leadership has deemed the taking of Peter without his consent as a serious error in judgment at the highest level."

"It was…but then perhaps first meetings are full of mistakes." Haughton relaxed some, the Trill were not infallible. They certainly weren't menacing in appearance.

"Wise words, David Haughton. We extend our apologies for this action with Peter."

"In my unofficial capacity I accept your apology. Peter seems to think very highly of you so you can't be all bad."

"We think highly of Peter also. Without his cooperation and bravery we would not be speaking this day."

Peter did manage a slight blush at this high praise.

--------------------------------

"They must have liked the spaghetti, they ate most of it."

"Yes Peter, I believe the meeting went well," Mother replied.

"Except for the wine."

"Indeed." Mother sounded almost embarrassed.

"Not your fault."

"Samples could have been obtained…"

"I'll bring some back, after I go to visit."

"Thank you, Peter."

"I'm sort of scared."

"Peter?"

"A zillion people will be watching. What if I do something really dorky?"

"Dorky. Yes…to be awkward and ill-suited to one's surroundings."

"Yeah."

"You are not a dorky person, Peter. Be at ease."

"Easy for you to say."

"No, Peter. I too know fear."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Cool." Peter was silent for a moment and then voiced what he hoped the most for. "Maybe my sister will be there."

"It is possible."

Chapter Nine Landfall The visiting astronauts/dinner guests had taken nearly five hundred still photos and a total of four hours worth of video. Within two days all of the visual recordings were downloaded to Earth and released without censorship or editing. People did little else than sit stupidly before their televisions and gape at the incredible parade of alien images.

For some odd reason the nine quick snapshots that Lyman had taken of Holdsleaf's brief appearance had turned out blank; this on a digital camera.

Mother had her instructions from Holdsleaf and the people at Sony had no explanation at all as to why the camera recorded nothing at all on one portion of a perfectly good memory stick.

In a mutually agreed to decision Peter and Mother had shifted Messenger away from the ISS and into a polar orbit. The maneuver had taken less than a minute and had the scientists at NASA feeling extremely inept and totally inadequate.

------------------------------

"How do I look?" Peter had studied dithering with the masters and now it was his turn. Within an hour most of humanity would be watching his every miscue and assessing his mastery of table manners.

"You seem very properly attired for the occasion, Peter." Mother had dithered over the preparations also.

"I'll faint or puke or do something stupid!"

"I believe not. Gather yourself and simply take events as they come."

"Oh sure!"

"Peter!"

"Okay, okay. I'll do my best."

"And so shall I."

"What if Dianne isn't there?"

"I have had no indications as to whether she will be present or not. The media reports have speculated but they do not seem to know where your sister is at the moment."

"Crap!"

"Language."

------------------------------

NORAD/The White House "Mister President, we have a target separating from Messenger."

"The boy's shuttle?"

"It would appear so sir, southeast of Easter Island. We might have camera tracking in fifteen minutes if it comes into Vandenberg's range."

"Okay. Any ideas on his ETA?"

"Sir, he doesn't seem to follow many of the rules when it comes to space travel. Not to sound flippant sir, but your guess is good as ours. My bet is that he'll be at the White House within the hour, but it's just a guess."

"Understood."

----------------------------

"Show track and destination." Peter could have done this in his sleep but he wasn't leaving anything to chance. Instantly the shuttle's 'brain' complied and laid down a glowing yellow path over the view of the Earth below.

"Cool." The boy was almost down the middle of the right-curving descent path and had to make only a slight correction. He would be crossing Baja California and then moving across most of Texas and points east to Washington D.C.

Some better consideration of sonic shock waves would have been in order, but then not too many people were asleep anyway. It was still early and everyone on the planet was glued to their televisions.

-----------------------------

Fox News "…feeling here is one of incredible anticipation and some uncertainty. We have just had a report of what might be a powerful sonic boom over western Pennsylvania that seems to have rattled the nerves of several million people. Security is incredibly tight here this evening. No one is getting within a mile of the White House without this pass that's hanging around my neck and these passes are very hard to come by."

-------------------------------

There had been some prior arrangements made between Mother and those who would be receiving her charge; Peter had the proper frequency to contact the FAA for his approach and landing. A small unit within the FAA had been established just for coordinating and clearing the movements of Messenger's various craft.

"Uh…Contact Control. This is Messenger Shuttle, do you read me?" Peter felt a little silly about his first call; maybe they wouldn't hear him or something?

They did hear him.

"Welcome, Peter. We read you loud and clear. Can you give us your present position? We're having some trouble tracking you."

"I'm west of Washington, maybe three hundred miles."

"Understood. And your altitude?"

"Wait a sec. Okay, just over fifty thousand feet at six hundred knots. I've been slowing down a lot."

Peter did understand the terms, knots for speed, feet for altitude. The Trill had reams of information from monitored aircraft traffic.

"You are cleared for a direct approach to Washington D.C. and for a landing at the White House at your discretion. There are no unauthorized aircraft in the vicinity but be alert for military escort aircraft and helicopter patrols in the vicinity of the White House."

For this evening all civilian air traffic within a radius of two hundred miles around the capitol had been grounded or diverted.

"Cool! Thank you. I'll be scanning for other aircraft anyway."

"And welcome home, Peter."

"Thanks. It's nice to be home."

Sort of.

Peter was calming some by now; talking to other people who seemed reasonable and helpful had taken the edge off of his worry.

------------------------------

It was just after seven in the evening when the polished bronze shuttle came whistling in across the city that was the nation's capitol. The streets were full of people gazing skyward and they were not disappointed. Four Air Force F-22's had managed to close on the alien craft to form an escort. Peter had ordered the brilliant pulsing blue anti-collision lights turned on and that created quite the show for those on the ground. The alien craft flashed over the White House and pulled up into a curving and slowing return arc with the fighters roaring over close behind. In moments the 747-sized manta ray was hovering silently over the historic residence.

"Shit! Where do I land this thing?"

"Perhaps over there…beside that rotor craft?" Mother advised.

Mother had been at her charge's side all of this time and could see as well as he could, even better.

"By the helicopter?" Peter still wondered why Mother always used fifty-cent terms when penny expressions would do just as well.

"Yes. Remain calm."

"I'm trying to! There isn't much room."

"There is sufficient clearance if you descend slowly and carefully."

"Geez!"

________________________ "Holy crap!" Despite the photographs taken by the astronauts, the President like everyone else was not quite prepared for the sheer size of the shuttle or for its unearthly and beautiful appearance.

"It's not going to fit!" The Vice President had visions of exploding helicopters and smashed trees.

----------------------------------

"Oh shit!" Peter almost made it but one limb of the young cherry tree recently donated by the Emperor of Japan snapped and joined its honorable ancestors. "I hope I don't have to pay for that!"

"You did well Peter, there was very little room. Mind your language." Mother's words helped but you really shouldn't park on top of your guest's shrubbery.

"Thanks and sorry. Now comes the hard part."

"Courage, Peter."

A stop in the shuttle's small 'bathroom' was in order. Nerves have a certain effect on the bladder.

"Okay, here goes. Open the hatch."

Peter literally stepped into history. The slim black folder he held in one hand held the 'deal' offered by the Trill. The contents of that folder were perhaps the most sought after documents in history.

-------------------------------

The sun was well below the horizon and the shuttle was bathed in light from the pool television crews. Peter did manage a small wave and bit of a smile even though he couldn't see much beyond the steps of the ramp because of the glare. It was a wave and smile that would be repeated endlessly on the newscasts.

The President of The United States had gathered his wits enough to walk out and wait near the bottom of the ramp. The Secret Service had to hold back and just hope that things were safe. The President's wits took a lot of gathering; imagine yourself approaching an alien spacecraft. Peter just concentrated on climbing down the ramp while being blinded by the lights.

"Hello, Peter. Welcome home."

Peter took the offered hand before replying.

"Thank you, sir. I'm really sorry about that tree over there."

"Son, we were all amazed that you managed to set this 'thing' down as neatly as you did in as small of a space as you had." Actually the shuttle never really set down, it just hovered, always.

"It was sort of a tight fit."

"Again, welcome. Now let's go along and face the music."

"Music, sir?"

"The press."

"Oh. Geez."

"My sentiments exactly." The President had never developed much of a rapport with young people but at this moment he decided that he did like this particular kid. This opinion was not to last very long.

At one point the President paused with Peter at the downward curving 'wing' of the shuttle and tentatively ran his hand over the polished metallic surface. He had to touch it, a craft not of this Earth.

"Is my sister here?" Peter asked as the two of them walked toward the clot of microphones set up on the lawn.

"Not at the moment, Peter. We'll need to talk about her a little later."

"Oh." Peter stopped smiling and stopped walking, catching the President by surprise as he too had to pause.

"There are very big legal problems, Peter. We're doing our very best to get you together with her."

Peter didn't say anything else and again moved along with the President.

--------------------------------

The media pool at the landing area managed a measure of restraint, barely. The President had finished his short welcoming speech and now it was time for the boy to field some questions.

"Peter! Is it true that you were abducted by the Trill?" The CNN reporter was as abrasive as ever, and as insistent.

"It was kind of a mistake, they apologized. They were very good to me." Peter had taken an immediate dislike to this creep.

"But they did take you?"

"Sort of. So what? I'm fine, I'm here now."

Then the boy had his own question for the reporters.

"Do any of you people know where my sister is?"

The President nearly fainted, as did most of the assembled dignitaries.

"You haven't been in contact with her?" This question from the CBS anchor.

"No. I've tried to find out where she is but I can't get anyone to tell me. Every time I talked to the people at NASA on the radio they said they had no information. The President just told me that there are "big legal problems. I thought you reporters might know where she was?"

Pandemonium ensued for a few moments as the reporters shouted a dozen questions at the boy.

The President looked as if he had just eaten a platter of toads; this momentous occasion had just veered completely off the road.

--------------------------------

The President called upon all of his dodge-and-spin experience and stepped up to the microphones.

"I have had no time to properly discuss Peter's sister with him. The government is in a very difficult legal position on this matter. We all want to reunite Peter and his sister but at the same time there are laws involved that simply cannot be ignored if our system of law is to mean anything at all. I can assure you all, and especially Peter here, that he will be reunited with his sister as soon as we can arrange it. And now it is time for us to go into dinner. Thank you."

No one bought this, least of all Peter who resisted the President's firm pressure on his shoulder to move along with the man.

Peter stood his ground and politely offered his hand for the President to shake.

"Thank you for this nice welcome, sir. Please give me a call when I can see my sister."

And with that the boy turned and stalked back toward the shuttle leaving even the reporters speechless for the moment. He never looked back when the shouted questions began again.

The shuttle lifted off so fast that it created a brief windstorm as the displaced air rushed in under its hull.

The thin black folder he carried slipped away with him.

-----------------------------------

"Well, that went really good!" Peter snapped as he pushed the shuttle out over the North Atlantic and out of the atmosphere.

"Perhaps you might have used a little more tact." Mother replied rather curtly.

"I lost my temper!"

"Indeed."

"Why couldn't she have been there? What was the harm?"

"I do not know, Peter.

---------------------------

The White House "I have never been so God-damned embarrassed in my entire life!" The President was not a happy person; blunt objects had been thrown. "Why in the hell I let myself get talked into keeping his sister away from here is beyond me! Can any of you overpaid nincompoops tell me what to do now?"

No one at the polished table was making any eye contact with the President. In time the Attorney General ventured to clear his throat and speak.

"We were in the process of stalling two California State Police even as the boy was landing. They had a court order and every legal right to take him into protective custody and then to transport him back to California."

"You're shitting me?" The President was beyond polite language.

"No, I am not."

"You have entire squadrons of lawyers at your disposal! Why can't you come up with some sort of workable solution to this mess?"

"I cannot invent precedence and laws that do not exist. If my performance is not up to your standards perhaps I should submit my resignation to…"

"Accepted!" The President had his scapegoat to toss to the public wolves.

----------------------------------

"We don't have to mess around with the U.S. What about England or someplace else?" Peter was sitting beside the pond after a long and hard swim.

"I believe that the United Kingdom is closely allied with America, it might put them in an awkward position." Mother replied.

"Then how about France? My dad always said that they were a total pain in the ass to everyone."

"Perhaps. Language."

"What can we do to find Dianne on our own?"

"Opening some sort of dialog with the authorities in the state of California might be a proper place to begin."

"How do we do that?"

"This city, Red Bluff. You are familiar with it?"

"Yeah, pretty much. I know where the city hall and stuff is. We had to go there once for dad to pay a traffic ticket."

"Then pay them a polite visit."

"Really?"

"Yes. You will be safe, I shall see to that."

"Cool."

Peter had one more question for Mother but he already knew the answer.

"You've told Holdsleaf about what happened today, haven't you?"

"I am required to submit a daily report, as you know, Peter."

"Yeah. Criminy."

-----------------------------

NORAD/The White House "Sir, we have another object separating from Messenger."

"And?" The President was still snapping at people, even after a day and a half.

"Radar signature indicates it is the shuttle again, sir."

"Going where?"

"Too soon to tell but probably North America."

"Can you clowns narrow it down some?"

"Possibly the west coast, sir."

"Shit!"

------------------------------

Red Bluff Alfred Dimsworth was the clerical supervisor in the city's budget and finance department. Alfred was a methodical and conservative sort of person, not given to extreme emotions. On his way back from his daily lunch of a low-cal tuna sandwich and iced tea at the diner two blocks from city hall his conservatism and emotions were put to the test. There was an alien spacecraft hovering just off the ground at the edge of the employee's parking lot beside city hall. A young boy was descending from said spacecraft.

"Sir! Can you help me, please?"

The boy in the sparkling black jumpsuit seemed polite and properly behaved; Alfred finally found his voice and replied.

"You're Peter Hanson, aren't you?"

"Yes sir. I'm trying to find my sister, can you help me?"

Alfred paused for a moment and considered his totally pointless life for a moment. A crucial turning point had arrived; it was time to act like an actual human being.

"Peter, I will do my very best for you."

"Cool. Thank you."

"Come along, we have a lot of debts to collect on."

Alfred was well known as the person in city hall to go to if you had a 'difficult' problem that needed to go away. People owed him. Alfred knew where all of the skeletons were hidden.

------------------------------

The White House "Red Bluff, sir? The boy's home town."

"Whatever it takes, I want that brat taken into protective custody! Do it with some degree of intelligence! We need positive control of him, for the good of the country. And we need to be damned gentle with him. Hell, he's the most adored human on the planet according to Newsweek and USA Today!"

"Yes sir. The medical information he brought is going to…"

"I know, save millions of lives. We still need that kid in our camp."

The new Attorney General (pending Senate approval) wasn't one to jeopardize hard won gains and her new title had been very hard won. Extreme measures were put in motion.

-----------------------------------

"1293 Sycamore Road. John and Harriet Winston. This could cost me my job!" Mildred Tracy also had a tax 'issue' that Alfred had made to disappear, a tax issue that could be made to reappear.

"We shall be discreet, Mildred."

It was the third foster home that Dianne Hanson had been assigned to since the appearance of Messenger and her brother.

By now there was a considerable crowd plus the local TV news crew around the shuttle, no one was paying any attention to Alfred and Peter inside city hall. This would soon change.

"May I suggest that we take my car rather than that thing out there?" Alfred was pointing out the window at the mob scene around the hovering shuttle "Yes sir. I owe you big time for this."

"I have a payment in mind, if things work out."

"Sure. What?"

"A visit to messenger, if it is permitted?"

"You got it!"

---------------------------------------

Dianne Hanson was no longer at 1293 Sycamore, she was being 'cared for' at Beale Air Force base, far to the south and had been there for two days now. There were four county deputies at 1293 Sycamore, inside and out of sight within just the last few breathless moments. The family members there had been ushered into a back bedroom and told to keep quite. The deputies had no stomach for this rushed assignment but they also had families to feed and house. The deputies were also more than a little nervous, they had been ordered to take into protective custody a very much-admired young boy who had what was probably an appalling amount of firepower at his disposal.

And of course they were right to be nervous.

-----------------------------------

"You can sit up now, we're clear of the peasants." Alfred's nasal voice irritated most people but Peter wasn't one of them right now. Peter had been scrunched down under the Taurus's dash, out of sight.

"This is sort of cool! Are you sure you won't get in any trouble?"

"Positive. The police chief and all of the local judges have major fiscal indiscretions that I know about. Arrangements have been made if any misfortune comes my way and they know it."

"Huh?"

"They're all very dirty and I supplement my meager wages by keeping quite about it."

"Oh." Peter decided right then and there that he had asked exactly the right person for help.

"I don't see anyone," Peter observed as they pulled into the modest home's driveway.

"Well, let us go and rap upon the drawbridge." Alfred was often given to excess verbiage.

"Oh. Okay."

They did rap. Four deputies had them surrounded in seconds.

Alfred was placed in handcuffs soon to be unfastened when the Sheriff heard of his situation and the lack of any real crime being committed.

"Crap!" Peter was fastened between two very large and very uniformed arms of the county and was not at all pleased with the situation. "Where's my sister, you…?"

"Calm down kid, she isn't here." Deputy Griffin had a boy of his own and at least knew how to restrain an irate juvenile without causing major damage. It was called a bear hug.

"Let go of me you big dip shit!"

"We have all day son, you may as well cool off."

Peter did cease his struggles. He also remembered a certain sequence of eye blinks.

"Yes Peter?"

"I've been grabbed by cops!"

"I have been observing your progress with the shielded probe that we agreed on. They do not seem intent on harming you."

"Dianne isn't here! I need to get back to the shuttle!"

"Kid, who are you talking to?" Griffin thought that the boy had slipped his clutch or something.

"Myself! Piss off!"

"Language, Peter." Mother replied automatically.

"I sort of need some help here!"

"If I may Peter, you might learn more about your sister's location by at least pretending to cooperate with these officials for the time being. I can see no intent in them to harm you, let them lead you to Dianne."

"Really?"

"If not, I will retrieve you. I will retrieve you now if that is your wish."

Peter managed to calm down some as he thought for a minute. What was there to lose by playing dumb and stupid?

"Okay. We'll wait and see what happens."

Griffin was certain by now that the boy was several bricks shy of a complete fireplace. Being kidnapped by aliens might do that to a kid, or anyone else.

Or was he really talking to someone else? That too crossed the deputy's mind.

---------------------------------

The White House "We have the boy!" AG Nivens was beaming but that was not readily apparent over the phone line.

"Where is he now?"

"On his way to Beale, Mister President."

"How?"

"Air Guard chopper, we had him up and away before the local news dogs had a clue."

"And that damned space ship of his?"

"It lifted off and then shot off to the north, maybe NORAD knows where it went, we certainly do not."

--------------------------------

"Where are we going?" Peter shouted over the din inside the Black Hawk. He had been silent for the first twenty minutes but this noisy flight was starting to get tiresome.

"Beale Air Force Base, that's all I know." Senior airman Hanes was still having trouble believing just whom they had as a reluctant passenger on this hastily arranged flight. The two deputy sheriffs sitting across from him seemed unwilling to say anything at all.

"What's at Beale?"

"Jackrabbits and boredom, kid."

"Shit!"

"Amen to that."

------------------------------

The White House "Mister President, now that we have the boy just what the hell do you propose to do with him?" The Vice President's use of "Mister President" told everyone in the Oval Office that he was not in any way aligned with this insane course of action.

"I intend the hell to gently persuade him that America needs his cooperation! It might be nice if I had your cooperation also!"

--------------------------------

Airman Hanes' assessment of Beale seemed pretty much on the mark to Peter. It was hot, flat and he did indeed spot a jackrabbit loping along the edge of the flight line.

"Come on kid, it's cool inside base ops."

Peter didn't need any further prompting or close guarding. There was no place to run to and there was still the remote possibility that he might find out about his sister here. Besides, it was one-hundred-and-one out here and no, there wasn't any shade.

Four FBI field agents from Sacramento had been hustled north to Beale to at least for the moment conduct the preliminary interview with Peter.

That and to reunite the boy with his sister. Finally.

"Girl!" Peter had always called her that. She was two years older and inches taller but he had spotted her at the same time she saw him.

"Petey!" Her big brother was back after so very long. After Mommy and Daddy had gone away and after she had to go and live with all of those yucky people.

One brigadier general, three bird colonels, and any number of lesser ranks had to grin and perhaps hide their emotions as Peter and his sister collided in the middle of what was ordinarily the flight scheduling area.

"Oh Geez, girl! Are you okay?" Peter's eyes were a mess, Dianne's were leaking too.

It felt so very good to at last be holding someone who was family, his only real family.

"I'm okay. Where have you been?" Dianne had never really quite comprehended just where her brother had gone.

"A long ways off. Now I'm back."

"Don't you go away again!"

"No. Not without you! Do you want to come and live with me on Messenger?"

"Yes! Please don't leave me here!"

"No way, girl. Not again."

---------------------------------

Trill "This is moving beyond the parameters for this project. Peter is placing his family situation above the needs of the contact endeavor." Highperch was having second thoughts about the entire operation.

"If I may presume to speak?" Holdsleaf asked with the proper deep head-bob and voice inflection of a very junior member of the Committee staff.

"Proceed."

"Peter is concerned foremost with family, a priority that perhaps all of us here share. I believe that when he is once more with his limb-mate that he will again return to the primary objective of this effort."

"There seem to be 'complications' involved with the young human's attempt to be with his sibling."

"Indeed, Honored One. In my modest appraisal we should provide all of our support to Peter in his efforts to be with his limb-mate. Proper contact with Earth will ensue with time no matter which nation cooperates."

A century of anxiety seemed to pass before Highperch finally responded.

"Agreed. Provide whatever support that Peter may require."

----------------------------

Chapter Ten Fugitives Dianne Hanson had been boarded with an officer's family at Beale for the last two days. The military family had tried their best to make the little girl welcome and at ease but it had been a difficult task. Ellen McBride, the wife of the base deputy commander, stepped forward to gently interrupt Peter and Dianne's hug-fest and blubbery reunion.

"Peter, it's very nice to finally see you. Dianne has been staying with us for the last few days."

Peter finally focused in on the source of the voice and turned to face the pleasant looking woman.

"Why was she brought here?"

"They thought it might be safer for her here, away from all of those stupid reporters and such."

It was also a much better place to deal with Peter.

"Then I guess I should say thank you for taking care of my sister. Things have been pretty crazy lately."

"You're welcome and yes, things have been pretty crazy."

"Dianne is with her family now," Peter explained, "she'll be going with me back to messenger, it's very safe there."

Peter realized that besides the kindly woman there were also four civilian men in almost identical suits standing in a loose circle around himself and Dianne.

"Uh, Mother?" Just a whisper.

"Yes, Peter?" Of course only the boy could hear her.

"Can you please send the shuttle now?"

"Fifteen minutes until arrival, Peter."

"Cool."

One of the agents was close enough to hear and see that the boy was talking to someone who was not in the room.

"Son, who are you talking to?" Agent LaPort had an idea and did like to think about what might happen if he was right. Instead of answering the man, Peter bent down and whispered very close in his sister's ear.

"Mother's sending the shuttle, we may have to make a run for it so be ready. Okay?"

"That spaceship thing?" She asked, also in a close whisper.

"Yes, but don't be afraid. I won't let anything bad happen to you."

"Okay…but…"

"Peter! What's going on?" LaPort interrupted as he and the other agents edged in around the two children. Ellen McBride moved back out of the way, confused as to what was occurring.

"Mother's sending the shuttle for us."

"Son, we have instructions that you must remain here for the time being until your legal status can be worked out."

"Are you going to stop us from leaving?"

"Yes, for now."

"Good luck." Peter just beamed his nicest smile at the man and then clammed up to let them all sweat bullets.

-----------------------------

The White House The President's face sagged visibly after two rather disturbing reports came into the situation room. One: Messenger was altering its orbit and the shuttlecraft had separated once more. Two: The boy had as much as dared them to try and stop him and his sister from leaving.

"Shit!"

The head of FEMA finally found enough of his courage to speak. "Mister President, people could get hurt. Those kids could get hurt. Think of the public relations disaster that would be."

"People could get vaporized." Added the Vice President with poorly disguised contempt.

"Thank you both so very much for that bit of valuable advice. Now does anyone at this table know of anything that might be of use here?"

And of course no one did.

--------------------------------

Beale Air Force Base Things were starting to unravel. While hustling Peter and his sister into one of the smaller side offices one of the FBI agents had squeezed the boy's shoulder a bit more than the shield implant deemed safe. The boy and his jumpsuit had flashed to a polished chrome and Agent Simmons had three broken bones in his right hand from having said hand knocked violently aside by the field. Out of instinct guns were almost drawn when Simmons started to howl in pain, but there was nothing to aim at except two kids. Say what you will about the agents, they were not monsters and truly meant no harm to Peter or his sister. Dianne was getting very scared by now and had physically attached herself to the brother that had always protected her.

After some calm returned the whole building seemed to jump as a powerful sonic boom rattled the entire base and most of central California.

"I guess our ride is here," Peter explained with a perfectly wicked grin.

An out of breath airman then burst into the room.

"You'd better get out here, we've got company!"

LaPort looked at Peter for a second as if asking him what to do.

"It's probably safer for you guys if we go out there rather than Mother sends something in here after us."

"What sort of something?"

Peter just smiled again.

"Then come on kid, let's see what there is to see."

The tarmac in front of Base Operations had an alien spaceship hovering just above the concrete. The shuttle's ramp was already lowered and waiting.

"Can we go now?" Peter asked as they all stood in the hot sun just in front of the operations office.

"No, you cannot." It was an impressive sight but LaPort could see no reason at this point to disobey his orders and let the boy go.

"Look!" Several of the airmen had yelled it at the same time and were pointing directly overhead. And then very soon they were all in the shade. There was a great deal of shade.

Messenger had arrived.

"How about now?" Peter asked simply as people started moving off in random directions at full speed. LaPort was just standing open-mouthed looking up at the mountain that was hovering much too close above the building. Finally the agent looked down at the boy and his sister.

"You two have a nice flight. Tell Mother I said hello and no hard feelings."

"Cool! Thank you." Peter even shook the man's hand before he herded his petrified sister out toward the shuttle.

---------------------------

The White House "You mean that shuttle thing?" The President was once more talking to a very weary general at NORAD.

"No sir, Messenger dropped out of orbit, the starship itself. At the moment it appears to be hovering above Beale Air Force Base."

"Good God!"

"Yes sir."

"Keep me informed." The President's voice seemed smaller, less sure as he turned to the general on his left.

"Tell Beale to let them go. Now."

"Yes Mister President." The Chairman of the JCS did nothing to conceal his smile as he picked up his own telephone. In a moment he was smiling even more.

"They've already been cut loose, sir. FBI agent LaPort made that decision to avoid "hostilities" that appeared imminent and that might endanger the children."

The President could only silently nod his head. He had been defeated on this particular battlefield but was not one to give up easily or to forgive and forget.

-------------------------------

"Petey!" Dianne had managed to make it up the ramp and into the shuttle. Now she was in total sensory overload and could only cling to her brother.

"It's cool girl, we're safe now. No one is going to keep us apart now." Peter was unsure about how to calm his justifiably terrified sister. Mother decided it was time to help.

"Dianne. Welcome. You are safe here. Peter and myself will see that no harm comes to you." The soft and very feminine voice seemed to make a deep connection with the little girl as she looked around more closely at here exotic surroundings.

"Who's that?"

"That's Mother." Peter explained quietly.

"The computer thing they talked about on TV?"

"Yes, but she's much more than just a computer. She'll take very good care of you. She takes good care of me."

"Really?"

"Really. Now let's go sit down and enjoy the ride. There's a lot of cool stuff to watch."

"All right. Can I go pee first?"

"Sure. This way to the facilities."

----------------------------

"Why is it just sitting there?" LaPort asked what everyone was thinking. The shuttle hadn't budged and neither had Messenger.

"Maybe he had to take a leak or something?" Airman Hanes offered.

----------------------------

"All set, Mother. Let's make tracks."

"Departing. Follow and rendezvous after orbit stabilization."

"Roger dodger."

"Peter?"

"Okay. We'll follow you."

"Very well. How is Dianne doing?"

"Better. She likes the observer's seat."

"May I suggest one of the motion sickness candies from the medical unit for your sister?"

"Good idea. Hang on for a minute!"

"Certainly."

In time they actually did depart, much to the relief of everyone on the ground, even the jackrabbits.

----------------------------

It all could never have been kept away from the world's media. In time every sordid detail would come out and a President would have assured that his party would probably not win an election for years to come, anywhere. But the elections were two years away and much could occur in that length of time. The American electorate was well known for having a short attention span and voting for those who promised the best free lunch.

-----------------------------

"It's scary!"

"It's just really big, not scary. Come on."

Getting Dianne away from the shuttle was proving to be a task.

"But it's all goofy looking!" The curved hanger deck did tend to assail one's senses.

"You'll have your own rooms, all of the clothes that you want made just for you. Mother makes a really good chocolate pie."

"Chocolate pie?"

Peter was on the right track remembering her favorite treat."

"Sure. Now come on, there's no chocolate pie down here."

"Don't let go of me!"

"Hardly."

The girl had a death grip around Peter's middle but he finally edged her over to and then into the small open flyer.

"Just close your eyes till we get there."

"Okay." They were already closed.

"Welcome home, Dianne." Mother's voice could calm a person standing before the gallows as the guest of honor.

"Open you eyes, geez!" Peter had forgotten what a total fraidy cat his little sister could sometimes be.

"Gosh!" This place wasn't nearly as scary. It was beautiful.

"Nice, huh?" Peter asked.

"Where is…?"

"Mother?"

"Yes."

"Mother isn't a person like us…she isn't a computer either. She's sort of everywhere here. Just say her name and she'll always be there."

"Really?"

"Sure. Go on, try it."

Dianne peered around in the normal reaction, seeking to spot what could never be seen.

"Mother…?"

"Yes, Dianne. How are you feeling about all of this?"

"Sort of scared, I guess."

"There is nothing at all to fear here. This has been your brother's home for some time now and as you can see he is perfectly all right."

"Yeah."

"How does a hot bath and then some chocolate pie sound? And then perhaps a short nap? Your own special rooms have been prepared for you."

"That sounds nice."

And it was nice. Peter guided his overwhelmed sibling into the quarters that he and Mother had indeed dithered over. It was a little girl sort of place with lots of soft pink colors and perhaps the most amazing assortment of stuffed toy tigers in existence. Dianne loved tigers. "Tiggers."

"Wash behind your ears too." The words came automatically to the boy; he had often been relegated to supervising his sister's bath.

"I know!" These words were remembered also; it had all been a normal routine before the bad stuff happened.

"Mother's making you some cool clothes."

"Really?"

"Sure. Blue, like you always liked."

"Neat!" The girl was beginning to cope, beginning to accept this exotic place.

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

The arrival of a floater with her new clothing caused a bit of a setback.

"Geez! Let go, it's just a gizmo that brings stuff!" A wet and soapy Dianne had jumped from the bath and grabbed her exasperated brother in panic. Now he was wet and soapy, clothes and all.

Eventually Peter managed to regain some control of the situation, along with help from Mother's calming words.

"Cool!" Peter stood back from his sister and decided that Mother had as usual worked one of her small miracles. His sister's smaller edition of his own jumpsuit had been executed in a light blue that also sparkled when the light was right.

"It's really soft." Dianne said.

"You like it, then?"

"Silly! It's totally bitchin'."

"Bitchin'?" Where had she learned that crude expression?

Foster homes are not always warm and cuddly places.

-----------------------------------

Trill "Peter has been reunited with his limb-mate. There was no violence in the process." Holdsleaf displayed a minor chest-fluff that indicated a respectful yet proper pride in this matter.

"Then we may expect to resume our course now?" Highperch allowed some faint hint of relief to show in its voice and manner.

"Indeed, Honored One. This obstacle has been overcome."

----------------------------------------

"I added a mild calming agent to her portion of the pie. She seemed to need a period of sleep and rest."

"Slipped her a Mickey?" Peter was sitting on the edge of his sister's bed, just watching her as she slept peacefully.

"Mickey?"

"I heard it once in an old movie. It means sort of a sleeping pill or something."

"I see. Then I slipped her a Mickey, a small one."

"Thank you. You always seem to know what to do."

"I try to know what to do but I often do not."

"Me either."

------------------------------------

"Monkeys?"

"Sure! A bunch of them."

Breakfast wasn't chocolate pie but Dianne decided that maybe the fresh strawberries and waffles made up for it.

"Where?"

"One deck down. The greenhouse deck."

"Mister Jenkins had a greenhouse but he wouldn't let me go inside."

"Who's Mister Jenkins?"

"The first…place they put me. Then some cops came and took away all of Mister Jenkins' plants and then they took me to these other people's house."

"I see." Peter was old enough to indeed see. His sister had also not had an easy life these last two years.

It had been a matter of some consternation to the boy when Dianne had walked right up to the edge of the central elevator shaft and peered over as if it were perfectly normal. It would seem the she did not have any of her brother's fear of high places, or of falling from them.

"Wow!" Dianne, like her brother, had found the best place on Messenger.

"Cool, huh?" Peter could see that any fears about his sister not liking Messenger had been perfectly silly.

"Its so…outdoors and everything!"

The greenhouse deck was truly another world in this small world apart from everything else in the universe.

"Come on, the monkeys get really loud if their melon pieces show up late."

"Aaaaaaahh!" Dianne's panic was one that left room for a smile on her face. Being surrounded by squabbling simians was serious fun.

"Leave the bowl and follow me." Peter knew the routine all too well.

"Why?"

"Because when the melon runs out it gets really loud."

"Oh." Everyone said it sooner or later in this place.

-------------------------------

"It's not that cold, sissy girl!" Peter knew that his sister could swim; he had helped to teach her. He was already out of his jumpsuit and into the pond while the girl was testing the water with her hand.

"It is too!"

"Wimp!" The final insult. It always worked.

There had never been any sort of body modesty between the two siblings. In a flash the small girl also disrobed and made her leap into the pond.

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" No man-made device can properly produce the audio frequencies that a young female is capable of.

"Geez!" Peter winced. Even the squabbling monkeys scattered for the trees.

-----------------------------------

"Who's Holdsleaf?"

"He…It's a good person. But not a person like you or me."

"Huh?"

"Its body is a different shape but it's still a person, a very smart person. A nice person." Peter decided that maybe showing was better than describing and Mother had agreed.

"Incoming transmission from Trill in one minute."

"Thanks, Mother. On our way."

"Hello Peter, hello Dianne." Holdsleaf's silly countenance filled the video wall. Dianne had the predictable reaction.

"Stop it! Be nice and stop giggling!" Peter felt some considerable embarrassment at his sister's behavior. "Sorry Holdsleaf, it's good to see you again."

"It is good to see you, Peter."

"This is all a lot for her to…"

"Understood, dear Peter. I am happy on two accounts.

"Two?"

"Yes. I am happy that you are finally with your limb-mate and I am also happy that I do not have to now endure the combined odor of two humans."

Now it was Peter's turn to have the giggling fits, as Holdsleaf had anticipated.

---------------------------

At the end of his sister's first full day on Messenger Peter had to ask the question that he had wanted to but had been unable to voice.

"Mom and Dad. Where are they?"

Dianne was sitting up in her enormous bed with the air-soft cover pulled up to her neck. "Next to Grampa."

Peter remembered his grandfather; the man had died just on the boy's sixth birthday. He knew where "Grampa" was buried.

"Let's take them some flowers, tomorrow."

"Okay. From the greenhouse?"

"Yeah. Mother won't mind. Goodnight girl."

Peter leaned over and pecked his sister on her forehead.

"Night, Petey."

Of course Dianne could not sleep in this strange bed and in this strange place, no matter how nice it was. Her brother didn't really object when she snuggled in next to him just after he went to bed himself.

He knew what being alone and afraid was like.

-------------------------------

Before the furtive trip to California there was another matter to decide upon. Peter had decided that a fresh start was needed in the diplomatic arena.

"How do I talk in private to the President of France?"

For once Mother did not have an immediate response. A good five seconds passed before she answered.

"Perhaps I could insert a link into their telephone system?"

"I guess so…?" Peter hadn't a clue.

"This will require some time, Peter."

"That's okay. After we get back maybe?"

"Very well. I still do not…"

"We'll be real careful. It'll be early in the morning there and we won't stay long."

Mother didn't reply, Peter knew she was apposed to this trip, no matter the reason.

-----------------------------------

The White House - 6:49 AM "What?" The President hadn't been sleeping well and this call would not help any.

"Sir, you asked to be notified if anything left Messenger. It appears that the shuttle craft has just done so."

"Shit!"

"Yes sir."

"Now where is that little bastard going?"

The NORAD watch officer held his tongue, he did not in any way view Peter as a "little bastard." "Sir, orbital track indicates northern California again."

"Shit!"

"Yes sir."

The President hung up on NORAD and rolled over to try and go back to sleep, not that he would this late in the morning, and not after that phone call.

--------------------------------

Red Bluff The sun was barely up and for now there seemed to be no one else around. The small cemetery was far enough removed from town that the silent shuttle (no sonic boom this time) caused no stir as it descended and nestled behind a row of scrub oak trees.

"It's over there," Dianne pointed with one hand, the other held the fresh flowers they had picked just before leaving Messenger.

"I know." Peter knew where Grampa was and now his parents were there too. "Come on, we can't stay here very long."

Both children were in their 'Sunday Best' clothes. Mother had even managed a light blue dress for Dianne, complete with a bit of lace at the neck. It was perhaps two hundred yards to the gravesite, to Peter it seemed like a mile. Unlike for his grandfather, there was no proper headstone for their parents, just two small stone markers set flush with the ground. It took a few minutes for Peter to find his voice.

"They're so close together. How…?"

"The lady said they were creamed."

"Cremated?"

"Uh huh."

This all didn't really seem right to the boy; surely there had been enough money for a decent headstone. What had happened to all of his folk's possessions, the house and the two cars. There had been some money in the bank. He didn't even have a photograph of them anymore.

The blur of confused thoughts masked the quite approach of someone who had indeed noticed their arrival.

"Hello Peter." It was the same Deputy Griffin who had been the one to first grab Peter in a bear hug. The boy whirled without thought and put himself between the large man and his little sister, and it wasn't his finger that he was pointing at the man.

"You!"

"Easy son! Whatever that is in your hand I'm not here to arrest you or anything!"

The "whatever" appeared to be a small flashlight with a pistol grip. It was indeed a sort of pistol that Peter had worn on his right hip for this outing, attached with what passed for Trill Velcro. Not all of his weapons training had taken place in spacecraft.

Griffin was a good ten yards away and was trying not to appear threatening; if Peter pulled the trigger the deputy would be 'dispersed.'

"Can't you just leave us alone?" Anger and fear were in control and Peter was close to pressing the firing stud. Dianne could only cling to her brother and peer around at the big deputy.

"I was going off night duty. I saw you fly over, that's all. I just came to check out what was going on!"

"We only came to see our folks!" Peter was calming just a little by now.

"I can see that now, son. I'm sorry for butting in like this."

Peter lowered the weapon some; maybe this guy was telling the truth.

"They…just put these crummy little square name things…for my folks." Peter turned toward the gravesite, the 'pistol' lowering to his side. There were some tears by now. He didn't even realize it when Griffin was at his side with his hand gently on the boy's shoulder.

"It's a hard thing to lose your parents." Griffin said quietly.

"Why did they do this to them?" Peter's question was hardly audible but Griffin heard it.

"Maybe there was no money…?"

"There was! Not a whole lot, but enough for better than…this."

"I can find out for you…"

"And what happened to all of our stuff? Our family stuff…pictures and things?" Peter finally realized that the big man was standing next to him and seemed to be not at all threatening. The man seemed to be a comfort actually.

"When there are no adult relatives to take care of things the county has people who arrange for burials and for the disposition of property."

"Wouldn't my sister have been entitled to have…something? I guess they thought I was dead but she should have at least…I don't know, something."

"Yes she should, both of you should. There may be things in storage and Dianne might have some sort of trust fund if there was enough money left from…your folks' property. I can check it all out for you if you want me to."

"Would you? I called you some pretty bad names." Peter looked up at the man with the realization that he probably wasn't what he had first seemed to be.

"You had a pretty good reason to call me names. We don't always like what we have to do but a cop isn't any good if he picks and chooses what laws to enforce."

"I guess so. You won't get in trouble, will you? I mean, for helping us find out…?"

"No. Right now the warrants for putting you in custody have been set aside by the courts while they try and decide if you're just a kid or the Trill Ambassador."

"Oh. Maybe I'm sort of both."

"Your sister is another matter. Legally speaking she should be under the care of an adult."

"She's not going with you…"

"As far as I'm concerned I never saw her here today."

"Isn't that "picking and choosing?" Peter almost managed a smile.

"I guess it is," Griffin grinned. "For now I think you two had better be going before someone else shows up and I'm forced to actually see your sister."

"Okay. Thank you." Peter's offered hand turned into a brief hug for him and his sister. Dianne had yet to say a word to the deputy but also managed a shy smile for him.

"Here's my home phone number," Griffin scribbled it on the back of his official Sheriff Department business card. "Can you figure out a way to call me?"

"Mother can. When should…?"

"Give me a couple of days. There's some people I'll have to sort of 'pressure' a little."

"Try Alfred Dimsworth. He works at city hall. He tried his best to help me find my sister."

"Kid, you have friends in low places. Dimsworth was going to be my first stop."

"Cool! Tell him his visit to Messenger is still on when we can work it out. You too if you want to come."

"Seriously?"

"Sure. Are you…do you have a family? They can come too, lots of room."

"You have a deal, son. Now you'd better get going."

Peter and his sister were back in the shuttle before he had the chance to read the deputy's business card.

"Norbert Griffin?" Why did people stick their kids with names like that?

Chapter Eleven Frogs and Fire "I have inserted a link into the French cellular telephone system."

"How did you do that?" Peter should have known better by now than to ask Mother how she did anything. He asked it before thinking.

"A small remote probe emulating the digital encoding sequences…" Mother never actually droned on but she could do a fair imitation of it.

"Okay! Okay! Now who do we call?"

"I would assume that the President of France would the logical choice."

Oh sure!

-------------------------------

"Sir, that is most rude of you!" Mother had been rebuffed for the ninth time trying to place a simple phone call to the President of France.

"There are penalties for harassing telephone calls, madam. I would suggest you do not persist in this silliness!" Whomever Mother was talking to had a good command of English and little patience for crank calls from people trying to imitate the sexy voice of Messenger.

"How about if I just drop off a letter or something at his palace, or wherever he lives?" Peter asked.

"Perhaps that will be needed." Mother was at her considerable wits ends about how to reach these people short of some sort of open radio broadcast or a dramatic personal appearance by Messenger. The need for some sort of confidential meeting seemed in order after the disaster with the Americans.

"So where do I go?"

"Paris would seem a logical place. Perhaps a local official could relay your letter to the President?"

"Maybe the airport there?" Peter could see a total mob scene if he sat down next to the Eiffel Tower or someplace.

"That might cause some considerable disruption to the local aircraft traffic. A brief stop at the Elysee Palace to leave a letter of intent might be the most simple and direct method."

"Maybe in one of the smaller flyers, so I don't look so…mean and nasty?"

"The small flyers lack a defensive shield, Peter."

"I know, but it's not like France is some sort of loony terrorist country or something."

"Very well, but your sister should remain here on Messenger as she has no personal shield implant."

"Okay." Peter thought for a moment longer. "Could you put a shield thing in her?"

"The surgery is simple and straightforward but fabricating such a device is very involved and beyond the facilities here on Messenger."

"Rats!" His sister would have no invincible suit of armor like his own. She would have to be kept in a safe place.

--------------------------------

The American President swallowed whatever pride he possessed or that any politician might possess. He had to talk to Peter. He had to try and mend the mangled fences that were between himself and the boy. Another invitation to dinner seemed unlikely to be accepted; a videoconference might be possible according to the people at NASA.

--------------------------------

"Peter."

"Huh?" The boy had just wobbled out of bed as the new day began. His sister just mumbled something in her sleep and curled into a ball. The girl still could not be persuaded to spend the night in her own bed.

"The American President wishes very much to speak with you on a video link. Officials at NASA are in touch at the moment awaiting your reply to the request."

"Tell them to go to…tell them no way!" Peter was now fully awake and getting mad.

"Perhaps it would be best to at least listen to what the President has to say. There is never a last word where diplomacy is concerned."

"After what they…after what he tried to do?"

"Poor judgment in one instance."

"Very poor!"

"Peter, I truly think that it would be a wise thing to at least hear what is to be said." Mother sounded a bit put out by Peter's hard line and it gave the boy pause to think for a moment.

"Well…okay. But just a video thing, no visits."

"Agreed. In two hours?"

"Okay. Geez."

----------------------------------

The Trill had dithering down to ritualized art form but the White House was running a close second trying to decide what to say that might win Peter over to their side once more.

"First point. We acknowledge the boy's diplomatic status as an ambassador of a foreign power. That will put him out of reach of all sorts of laws concerning adrift juveniles," the Attorney General began.

"And his sister?" Asked the President.

"Is on sovereign foreign soil, or in this case a foreign spacecraft."

"And if she happens to set foot on U.S. soil?"

"I think, Mister President, that we might tactfully suggest to the boy that she might not want to do that. Even if she did for a time we could just sort of look the other way."

"Agreed. Now how do we persuade that brat…that boy that we should be the first choice of the Trill to do business with?"

"That sir, will require all of your charm and wits."

The President wasn't sure if he had just been complimented or insulted.

----------------------------------

"This is NASA Houston, Messenger. Stand by for the President in thirty seconds."

"Sure." Peter didn't sound at all enthusiastic to the ground controllers and he wasn't.

"Tact and diplomacy, Peter." Mother urged quietly.

"I know. I'll be polite, don't worry."

"Thank you Peter. I do worry, you know."

"How could you not worry? The Trill made you."

"Indeed."

And then there was the President on the view screen looking like he had been told to by his teacher to go to the principal's office.

"Hello Peter. Can you hear and see me all right?"

"Yes Mister President. Can you see me?"

"Very clearly. It's good to talk to you again."

Peter didn't reply but did manage not to grimace.

Awkward silence.

"We got off to a bad start the last time you were here, Peter. Some bad decisions were made on our part and I would like to apologize to you for that." It truly galled the man to say those words but like a true politician you would never have known it to listen to him.

"Maybe I should have stayed…cooler than I did, sir. I apologize too." It galled Peter also but it pleased Mother and that was the only reason he said it.

"Son, what are your plans now? Everyone here is very anxious to open a dialog with the Trill. We want to do serious business with them."

"I am in the middle of opening talks with another country, sir." It was mostly true; he was leaving for France right after this painful meeting. Maybe he could get them to notice him if he showed up on their doorstep.

"What country did you have in mind?"

"France, sir."

The President's blood pressure and all around perspiration level jumped at those last words. Good God! Not the damned Frogs!

"Peter. There is no other country on this planet that is better equipped to fill the needs of…" His voice sort of dribbled off at this point; in truth the man wasn't very sure about just what the Trill had in mind. No one was.

"It isn't a matter of size or power sir, it's all about supplying smart people willing to take some risks for big rewards."

Peter had spent endless hours talking with Holdsleaf about just what sort of humans the Trill had in mind and what they would be asked to do.

"Rewards, son?"

"The stars, Mister President. That and some really cool technical stuff."

The stars. And it all seemed to be slipping away out of shear stupidity.

"Is there anything at all that I can say or do to change your mind about myself and your own country. You are an American, son. Remember that."

"Sir, no single country is going to have some sort of… monopoly on relations with the Trill. No one is off the list. Well, except for those crazy terrorist places. Maybe we can work out something later on. Thank you for talking to me today."

"Peter…"

"Goodbye, sir."

The President found himself staring at a deep black screen with a single golden feather in the middle of it. It was the closest thing to a flag that the Trill ever used.

"Was I nice enough?"

"Adequate. You might have allowed the conversation to continue longer than you did."

"Why?"

"Diplomacy."

"Geez."

-------------------------------

"Why can't I come?"

"Because I'm just going to drop off a letter and there isn't room in the flyer for you." White lie; there was room for two.

"But…"

"No buts. You know that Mother will take the very best care of you while I'm gone."

"Yes."

"Then stop being a girly wimp and help me to do this."

"Okay." She didn't like it but life is hard.

Serious hugging occurred. Peter didn't like leaving his sister behind either but she would be safe here.

"And besides, you and Mother will be able to talk to me the whole time."

"Okay."

-----------------------------

Normandy Coast The French were certainly not asleep at the wheel when a small and very high-speed blip had appeared on their strategic defensive radars. The entire planet was taking security far more serious than in past years. A still simmering war in the Mid-East and all too many terrorists running around loose had everyone close to the firing buttons.

"Whoa!"

Peter had been poking along at about six hundred knots checking out the scenery below and not paying much attention to the display panel. Suddenly he was being paced by a Mirage 2000-SF. Two of them in fact.

"Mother?"

"I have detected their communications frequency. Select Number One Com link to speak to them."

"Cool."

"Uh…French Air Force. Can you hear me? This is Messenger Flyer."

"Good day, Peter. We can read you very well."

Whoever the guy was he spoke pretty good English.

"Hi! I don't mean any harm or anything. I need to deliver a letter for your president. At the Elysee Palace. Can I do that?"

"I believe so, Peter. Please give us a few moments to arrange a clearance for you."

"Thank you. You guys have really cool planes."

"Not as 'cool' as your plane, Peter."

Peter could have left them in the proverbial dust but the Mirage's were indeed very cool to look at. They just looked so damned fast.

------------------------------

Peter's 'cool' airplane looked somewhat like a flat, silver hydroplane racing boat with a bubble in the middle of it. Perhaps thirty feet long; it was easier to land than the larger main shuttle. It was a lot easier to land.

"Perhaps that flat area next to the fountain," Mother suggested, seeing all that the boy did.

It was in the carefully tended garden that was older than many countries.

Elysee. Residence of the Presidence De La Republique.

"I see it. Here goes."

"Proceed with care. There are armed security personnel converging on the area."

"I'll be very polite and move really, really slow."

"Excellent, Peter."

-----------------------------------

There were men in dark uniforms carrying impressive assault rifles at all points of the compass around the small alien craft. At least they weren't actually pointing the weapons at him. It was obvious that Peter was expected and was no terrorist but proper precautions are always in order. All that Peter truly wanted to do on this trip was to politely hand over a sort of letter of intention to anyone official looking and then get the hell home to Messenger.

Instead he soon found himself shaking hands with the President of France.

Geez!

"Welcome to France, Peter."

"Thank you sir. I apologize for just showing up like this. It was sort of hard to get a phone call through to you." Peter decided that just about everyone in the world spoke some sort of English and this dignified looking guy was no exception. He knew that this man was the President; a lot of 'homework' with Mother had preceded this trip.

"You attempted to telephone me?"

"Mother did. They all thought she was some sort of…that she was some sort of imposter."

"Ah. Then you must extend my apology to Mother for our behavior."

"I will, sir. I brought this letter," Peter handed it to the tall man as he spoke, "I didn't think that I would get to meet you today."

"It was good timing on your part that I was even present this day. Today was…what is the expression? A slow day."

The man had once been a fighter pilot before stooping to indulge in politics. He could not help but look over the boy at the silvery alien craft hovering next to the fountain. Peter wasn't entirely dense and took the cue.

"Would you like to take it up for a spin, sir?"

"Is such a thing truly permitted?"

"Sure. It's easy to fly."

"I will be forever in your debt, dear Peter."

The French equivalent of the Secret Service had a true conniption fit at the very idea of their head of state taking off in a 'flying saucer' but they were faced with a man who would not be put off. It would be the most fun the French President would have since the day he told his ex-wife what he truly thought about her and her extremely ugly and unpleasant mother.

"Peter, perhaps you should occupy the pilot's seat…"

"Be at ease, sir. I will override any dangerous control inputs." Mother had finally made herself known as Peter and the Presidence De La Republique climbed into the small craft.

"Mother?"

"Yes sir. I am at your disposal."

Peter was pretty sure that whatever the man next said under his breath in French was probably a very dirty word. Mother had the tact and diplomacy to say nothing.

"This is indeed an easy…aircraft to pilot."

They had just completed a wide, sweeping turn around the Eiffel Tower. Tourist were using up film and digital memory cards at an unheard of rate.

"Point it up sir."

"Up, Peter?"

"Sure. You can see what it's like to be an astronaut."

"Dear God."

"Huh?"

"Is this permitted…also?"

"Sure. Why not? Floor it!"

The President was acquainted with that particular expression and did point the craft straight up and then he did floor it.

Peter had made a life long friend and the President of France became an official astronaut having exceeded the needed altitude requirement by three hundred and nineteen miles.

-------------------------------

Camp David "It is France, sir! He's been playing UFO flight instructor over Paris for the President of France! The networks are going nuts!"

The Press Secretary did manage to duck the small bronze bust of Abraham Lincoln that flew by his head. Not so the rare first edition of The Grapes of Wrath (signed by the author) that caught him just above the right ear.

-----------------------------

"Will you please stay for dinner, Peter? There is so very much to speak of." The President was running his hand along the polished surface of the flyer as he spoke, unwilling to end this singular experience.

"I really need to bring you the proposition that the Trill have in mind, sir. There's a lot in it and I don't want to try and remember it all and maybe get something wrong."

"I understand. It is something to be read and considered for a time."

"Yes sir. I can come back whenever you want. Maybe there's some people you want to get together first?"

"You are a very good diplomat, Peter. There are indeed a number of people who should see this document you speak of. Can you return in perhaps two days time?"

"Sure. Can I bring my little sister along? She doesn't like being away from me." This place was very safe looking.

"Certainly! I have two young nieces who can be her companions while we talk of serious matters."

"That sounds nice, sir. I probably should be going now."

"Then farewell for this day, Peter. And thank you for showing me…all that you did."

"It was fun, sir. Maybe you could visit Messenger sometime?"

"Truly?"

"Of course. Mother's a pretty good cook." Then the boy remembered the wine. "Uh…is there any way I can take back some samples of some good wine. Mother tried to make some for the dinner we had for the astronauts. We didn't have much to go by and it turned out pretty…well…awful, I guess."

Peter, this is France! You shall have your wine samples!"

"Cool!"

----------------------------------

Mother was very pleased. The Trill were very pleased. Peter was just very tired and went to bed early.

Dianne finally made it through the night in her own rooms and in her own bed. It helped that Mother was always there and ready to talk when the girl awoke (four times) during the night.

--------------------------------

Chicago It was the tallest human inhabited structure in the U.S. The Sears Tower had assumed that mantle after events in New York. And now it was on fire.

It was no terrorist act that put over nine hundred people in the path of the reaper's scythe. It was a sixty-mile per hour gale and a faulty weld on a contractor's acetylene tank that began the conflagration. The gas explosion and the relentless wind had created a blast furnace that the sprinkler systems simply could not cope with. Unlike the attack on the World Trade Center, the insulation on the steel support beams had not been blown away by a massive and explosive impact. The tower would not collapse from softened steel, but it would burn…upwards.

There was no open route down for the people who then had to retreat toward the roof.

---------------------------------

"PETER !" Mother was having little success rousing the boy from his well-deserved rest. "Dianne! Wake your brother up!"

Dianne knew the secret combination. Jump on his stomach and then go for his ribs with both hands.

"Unnghh!" Eyes finally appeared, mostly open. "What?"

"Peter, there is a situation you must know about!" Mother sounded very agitated, something that almost never happened.

"Huh?"

"The city of Chicago, in America. There is a very large structure that has caught on fire. There are people trapped on the upper floors."

Peter finally came awake and sat up.

"Well…they have firemen and stuff. What…?"

"It would appear from the media accounts and the scan I conducted on our last orbit that the fire officials cannot get to the people. A windstorm is preventing aircraft from approaching the building and is greatly accelerating the fire."

Peter had to think for a minute about what Mother had told him. He still wasn't too sure about what to do.

"Well?" Peter had no clue.

"We must use Messenger to rescue those people."

Finally he could see what had to be done. Put Messenger close against the roof of the building. The hanger deck could easily hold ten times the people trapped in the tower.

"We should call NASA and tell them what we're going to do." Peter was up and moving by now.

"Agreed."

"Then let's leave orbit and get the hell to Chicago."

"Commencing orbit change. Language, Peter."

"Geez."

Whatever Peter's opinion of the American President was, it did not extend to the rest of his home country and especially to those terrified people in that building.

------------------------------

The White House "Messenger is descending sir." NASA's Director took great secret pleasure in keeping the President up to date on his young nemesis with these phone calls.

"What now?"

"We have been in contact with Mother. Peter intends to take those people off the Sears Tower, sir."

The President was torn in two directions. On one hand he wasn't so vile a person as to object to anything that could get those poor people off of that burning building. On the other hand, this would only ratchet the boy's popularity into the stratosphere.

"Keep me informed."

"Yes, Mister President."

-------------------------------

Chicago Fire and Rescue Mobile Command Post NASA had given them a fast heads up that major assistance was on the way. They had also managed to get the proper communications frequencies back to Mother. When the signal strength meters on the department radios pegged on the high side they knew who was calling.

"Uh…Chicago Fire Department, this is Peter. Can you here me?"

"Yes Peter. This is Chief Burns here, we read you fine." Yes, the man got a lot of tiresome ribbing about his name.

"We should be there in about five minutes."

"Great! Now how are we going to do this?"

"Well, Mother says we can just push Messenger's hanger port right up against the top of the building, so that the people there can just sort of walk in."

"There's a total gale blowing, son. Can you hold a steady position like that?"

"Mother isn't really bothered much with the wind sir."

"No, I suppose not." Mother was the size of a small mountain.

"Where do we take them when we have them, sir?"

"We're trying to sort that out right now. Some cell phone calls from those people up there say that there are injuries, including some burns."

"Maybe I could take those people to a hospital first, then put the rest down when there's more time?"

"Do you have something you can carry them in, besides Messenger?"

"Yes sir. We have a couple of large, open flat cargo flyers that should do for the little ways we'll have to go. I sort of have to go for now, we're almost there."

"God bless you son, and Mother."

It was almost noon and despite the winds blowing in off the lake it was a clear if chilly day. Then Chicago had some considerable shade; Messenger had indeed arrived.

The entire world was by now the audience for the unfolding drama.

------------------------------

"There's so much smoke!" Dianne was with her brother on the bridge. There was indeed so very much thick black smoke blowing off in a thick flat stream across the city.

"I would recommend an approach on the side upwind."

"I guess so." Peter could only stare at the approaching human tragedy. He could just now begin to make out the people huddled on the wind-swept roof of the massive building. And they were also starting to wave and take notice of Messenger.

The news media were going crazy trying to describe what they were bearing witness to.

----------------------------

Fox News "…is the most incredible sight! That monstrous spacecraft is moving in from the lakeside of the building. I have also just been told that there is contact between Peter Hanson and the fire command center here. Apparently the plan is to move up against the building's roof and take off the people trapped there. My God, the scale of that spaceship is starting to become clear now as it approaches!"

The reporter did manage not to cry "Oh! The humanity!"

-------------------------

"Peter. There are some people lower down in the building, near the fire."

"I see them. At the windows!"

"Yes."

"I'll take a sled and go get them."

"Use care. I will breach the windows with floaters."

"Okay. On my way to the hanger!"

"Put on the cold weather garment I made for you."

"Geez!"

"It is cold and the sleds are open to the elements."

"Okay, okay!"

Dianne started to object to Peter leaving but the look in her brother's eyes stopped her. That and a hug and a kiss stopped her.

---------------------------

All Bernice Damon ever wanted to do was to make a decent living for herself and her son. Now she was facing certain fiery death along with her jerk of a boss and six total strangers who had crowded into the small advertising office. Final prayers had been said; she had determined that she would heave a computer monitor through the heavy window and then just jump. No ghastly flaming death for her.

Then a silvery basketball crashed through the window and spoke to them all in what had to be Mae West's sultry voice.

"Remain calm. Peter will be here in a moment to take you to safety."

Bernice decided then and there that angels must be round and silver. A few seconds later she decided that angels were actually rather ordinary looking young boys flying odd-looking alien spacecraft.

"Come on! Move it!" Peter yelled as he held the cargo sled jammed up against the shattered window. This was scarier than the lift tube in Messenger. The damned wind was indeed cold and you could fly an iron kite in it!

Bernice and the others did not have to be asked twice and scrambled awkwardly onto the flyer, holding tightly to the low rail that circled the sled. Peter had the only seat on a craft that had been intended for just moving light cargo.

Bernice had noted with disgust that her self-centered boss was the first person into the craft, shoving the others to one side. Halfway to the ground she had a few words for the creep.

"I quit, you sorry son-of-a-bitch!"

Then she slapped him, very hard.

-------------------------------

While Peter was descending to street level with his cargo of bewildered passengers Mother was attending to other business. The entire Sears Tower shuddered slightly as Messenger moved up against the roof's outer edge and crushed it twenty feet back into the building's structure, conforming it to the gentle curve of the spaceship's hull and bringing the hanger port exactly even with the roof.

"Move calmly across and into the hanger deck. There is time to proceed carefully, do not run." Mother's amplified voice helped but all the same there was pushing and shoving. A mob of terrified people should never be expected to do anything calmly and in good order. But even in this chaos there were those people who helped and literally carried the injured across to safety. It is these people who justify the title 'human being.'

Something out of an early Star Wars movie had descended to the street where most of Chicago's firefighters had assembled.

"All out!" Peter's image was on most of the televisions on the planet at this moment as his cargo managed to obey his shouted command. Bernice stopped to plant a big kiss on the boy's forehead and this too was also relayed around the world.

---------------------------------

"I can't see anyone else!" Peter had been orbiting close in around the tower for what seemed like ages; only about fifteen minutes in actual time. The people now on Messenger's hanger deck could only sit and stare around at where they now were. Sensory overload had set in.

"There are six people still trapped four floors below the roof, near the center of the building." Mother was close enough now to be able to conduct very detailed scans.

"But how do we get to them?" Peter was at his wits ends by now.

"With the beam weapons, Peter."

"But…"

"There will be considerable resulting falling debris. I will notify the fire officials to move everyone back out of danger."

Great slabs of steel and glass seemed to cleave off and fall as invisible forces sliced massive chunks off the top of the flaming structure. The media reporters for this one time just stood silent and let the cameras tell the story.

"I see them!" Peter was moving the cargo sled even as he spoke. Six people suddenly exposed to fresh air and light, and again to life. Six people rescued and given a new outlook on what being alive really meant.

"Wait a moment, Peter! Give the debris some time to stabilize."

"It looks okay. Those people are in a serious jam!"

"Use caution!"

-----------------------------

The last survivor was into the sled when a six hundred pound fragment of structural steel decided it was now time to fall. And of course it fell directly on top of Peter, smashing him down into the collapsed pilot's seat. Then the sled started to dip and wobble away from the building and the survivors had something new to scream about.

"Mother! Take over the controls and put us on the ground! I'm stuck!" Peter was perfectly all right as the shield implant had functioned as designed and now remained on. He just couldn't move as the scrap metal and the mirror-bright shield held him in place.

"I have control. Are you injured?" Mother was at her emotional limit stops by now.

"I don't think so. Nothing hurts. Maybe the people on the ground can get this thing off of me."

"If not, I will."

"I sort of thought you might."

Mother sat the sled down exactly where Peter had the first time. In moments the craft was surrounded by at least a dozen burly firemen who could at first only stare at the chrome plated boy seemingly crushed to death under the heavy beam segment. Chief Burns was one of the horrified witnesses to it all.

"Come on, we gotta get that thing off him!"

It was an order that did not need to be given as they all moved as one and strong arms and backs lifted the beam up and off of the boy, tossing it with a loud metallic clang to the pavement.

And then Peter was no longer chrome plated and was free to stand up on the flattened pilot's seat.

"Thanks guys!"

It was like watching a dead person get up and grin at you. The firemen could only stand speechless for a few moments. Likewise the media reporters had no coherent words, something that seemed to be happening a lot this day.

"Peter? Are you all right?" Chief Burns had finally managed to ask that simple question.

"Sure, I'm fine. I sort of have a built in suit of armor…thing."

"You should mostly be dead, son."

"I'm really fine, sir. Right now I better get back to Messenger." As if to better make his point, Mother had just landed another smaller flyer a short ways from the damaged cargo sled.

One of the reporters did manage to bull her way close enough to the boy to shout some questions as he walked the short distance to the other flyer.

"Peter! How is it possible that you weren't injured or killed by that beam?"

"It landed on my head, which is very thick and hard."

That was all she got out of the boy as he smiled and waved before lifting off once more.

--------------------------------

Messenger had been moved away from the still burning tower by now and was hovering silently above the city. Mother was trying to cope with more than nine hundred dazed and injured people when Peter arrived on the hanger deck. Floaters were darting hither and yon dispensing water and what minor first aid they could under Mother's direction. Despite their rattled condition, many of the people there stood and applauded the boy as he stepped out of the flyer.

"Geez!" Peter managed a pretty good blush. Then he could see that not all of these people were standing; a few of them were in pretty ratty shape.

"Mother?"

"I have the most severely injured people in the medical section. We need to arrange for a transfer of the rest as soon as possible."

While Peter was 'talking' with Mother a large number of people had crowded in around him to somehow say thank you and to just reach out and touch the boy.

"Uh…Mother?"

"Yes, Peter?"

"Lift me out of here. Now. Please!"

"Understood."

Peter took off like Super(Boy?) as Mother grabbed him with a focused lifting field and wafted him up to the living quarters.

---------------------------------

"Petey!" Dianne launched herself at her brother and proceeded to almost trigger his implant as she hugged/crushed him.

"Oooff!"

"Are you okay? That big metal thing fell…"

"I'm fine unless you break my ribs."

"There's a doctor helping Mother with the really hurt people!"

"Here?"

"Uh huh. In the hospital place."

"Mother?"

"Yes, Peter. One of the people we rescued is a medical doctor.

"Cool."

----------------------------

Doctor William Chambers (Internal Medicine) wanted to help but mostly he had to just stay out of the way and offer what advice he could to the unseen voice that seemed to be in charge of the fast moving floaters. Mostly he just stood there with his mouth open.

"Hi."

The bewildered and amazed medic turned to find himself face to face with the very famous boy and his little sister.

"Well…hello Peter. It's an honor!" Chambers shook Peter's hand and then motioned to all of the activity behind him. "I don't think I'm being much help here. Mother seems like she has it all well in hand."

"How are they doing?" Peter peered around the man at the six people being swarmed over by more floaters than he had ever seen in one spot. The people weren't very nice to look at. There was blood and what had to be awful burns covered with some sort of clear goop that the floaters were applying.

"Ask Mother. I'm not too sure about anything here."

"Mother?"

"They are all stable and under sedation. These people should remain here until it is safe to move them to human medical facilities."

"There's some hurt people down on the hanger deck."

"Yes, Peter. I have determined that they are all fit enough to be returned immediately and are in no immediate danger."

"Then I guess I should start doing that?"

"Agreed. Take a few moments to rest and eat something first."

"Yes, Mother." She was indeed very much the good mother. She also had perfected a very good strawberry milkshake.

-------------------------------

Trill As always when significant events were occurring Mother had been relaying real-time reports to the Trill home world. Mother was a grand master at multi-tasking.

"Astonishing!" Nestkeeper, like the others, could not believe the courage that Peter and indeed many of the humans were showing in this molt-worthy emergency.

"They behave with purpose even under such stressful conditions," Holdsleaf added. "Such physical courage is a great asset."

"But very rash and imprudent." Nestkeeper replied.

None of the Trill watching the unfolding events could even begin to imagine putting themselves into such a dangerous situation.

Which is another reason why they live for so very long.

-------------------------------

Finally it was over. The endless flights in the undamaged cargo sled ferrying people down to the surface. People to deal with and endless questions to answer. Getting a medical team on board to help transport the badly injured people.

Dodging the President's phone calls.

It all merited a good hot soak in the tub before bed.

"Aaaaa!" Peter sank up to his neck in the deliciously warm water and closed his eyes.

"What about Deputy Griffin?" Dianne was perched on the end of the pool-like tub munching on one of Mother's latest attempts at a proper chocolate chip cookie. She was wearing the most awful neon pink jumpsuit that she now dearly loved.

Peter's eye snapped open.

"Shit!" How could he have forgot that?

"Language, Peter." Mother was always close at hand and was becoming more like a human mother every day.

"Sorry. Can you call him?"

"Yes. I have his card on record. One moment."

Peter might be forgiven his mental lapse; a few distractions had been occurring lately.

-----------------------------------

Red Bluff "Dad! There's some lady on the phone for you!" Nine-year-old Edward Griffin had broadcast the news from the kitchen phone and he had a very healthy set of lungs.

"Crap!" Like most of the country, Deputy Griffin was still glued to the television watching the endless repeats of the day's incredible events. Unlike most of the viewers the man had actually met the pint-sized hero of the day. Eventually he picked up the extension next to his recliner.

"Yeah?"

"Is this Deputy Norbert Griffin?"

That voice!

"Yes."

"Please wait sir, Peter wishes to speak with you."

Jesus!

"Is this…Mother?"

"Yes sir. One moment."

"Hello?"

Griffin instantly recognized that young voice.

"Hello Peter. Damned good job you did today."

"Oh, well…Mother did the hard parts."

"Maybe so. You still stood very tall today."

"Thanks. I'm soaking in the tub right now."

"You have a bathtub?"

"Yeah, a really big one. Did you…did you find out anything?"

Griffin took a deep breath.

"Son, you have no idea."

"And?"

"I dug up enough to take it all to the State Attorney General. You'll need to be thanking Alfred Dimsworth for getting the most of it."

"What happened?"

"Certain people in this county have been lining their pockets with unclaimed estate liquidations."

"What does that…?"

"They sold off your folk's home and possessions and then made the money 'go away.' It all happened before you became famous or they would have played it all very legal and correct."

"What's going to happen now?" Peter wasn't really mad anymore, just relieved that things were finally being put straight.

"I also took it to the news media, just to be sure that things didn't get swept under the rug."

"Cool. Thank you. Thank you very much!"

"It has been my honor, Peter."

There was a silence for a time before Peter spoke again.

"My folk's pictures albums and…family stuff?"

"I don't know yet, Peter. If they are to be found they damned well will be."

"I owe you a lot for…"

"No. We all owe you after this day. Now finish your soak and then go get some sleep."

"Yes, sir."

And he did.

--------------------------------

Elysee Palace "Peter. Welcome once again. Welcome to both of you." The man actually bent forward and kissed his little sister's timid hand as he spoke.

"Thank you, sir. Sorry about the delay…"

"Nonsense. You had to do what any decent man would be called upon to do."

No one had ever called him a man before.

"Well…thank you, sir. Now we have the time to sit down and talk."

"Then let us now go and do just that."

On this visit all of the world was watching the quiet scene in the garden.

-------------------------------

During the final stages of the fire in Chicago the Administration had made superhuman efforts to get in contact with the young hero of the day. The President was even just landing at O'Hare to personally thank the boy when Peter departed for Messenger. Somehow all of the attempts to contact the boy during the day failed for reasons that towards the end could not be attributed to just missed connections or bad timing.

A cloud of weariness and resignation settled over the President's staff. Public approval polls were the lowest on record for any U.S. president; he was only a few points above a certain most wanted terrorist.

And now the smart-ass kid was sitting down at the table to do an interstellar deal with the damned Frogs!

--------------------------------

Elysee "Peter. My word, this is indeed a most generous offer! Can it honestly be genuine?"

"Yes, sir. The Trill may be really weird but they've always played it straight with me. I trust them. Besides, it's a gradual sort of thing. Both sides will give and take as things move along."

"This is true. And we will have our own spacecraft and the training to use them as we see fit in exchange for our services?"

"Yes, sir. It's all right there in the document. Both sides have the choice to end it all if things don't work out." Peter had spent many long hours and days with Holdsleaf on the contents of the thin folder that lay in front of the President of France. He mostly knew it by heart but he still wished the feathery alien was sitting here beside him to help field the questions.

"Then it is my intention to take this offer before the people of France to be decided by a special ballot. This is a matter that should be considered by all, not by just us few in this room."

"I think the Trill will be pleased with that, sir. They don't do anything without a lot of…deciding and talk."

Or dithering.

--------------------------------

Trill Highperch had failed to awake for the new day. It was not unexpected and there were no untoward disruptions in the Committee. Proper rites would be observed; the senior committee member had indeed been widely respected.

Nestkeeper's bowl held the most symbolic feathers when the voting ended, mostly due to the progress of the Earth contact project. It was now the new leader of all of the Trill. A first action was naming Holdsleaf as the newest and most junior member of the Committee; putting the somewhat rash staff member ahead of many who were far more senior. It was a right that the senior member held by tradition and the bold and daring alien contact specialist had more than earned the posting.

Peter would have laughed himself silly if anyone had called Holdsleaf "bold and daring." But in the society of the Trill the timid and nervous Holdsleaf was indeed a brave individual.

Mother's updates to Holdsleaf on the meeting with the French was the literal icing on the feathery alien's cake.

------------------------------

Peter and his sister were very late returning to Messenger after the long meeting with the French and then the even longer state dinner. Towards the end Dianne had been relegated to a side room in the palace for a much needed and well-guarded nap. Once on board the shuttle the exhausted Peter just let the craft do the flying as he too snoozed his way into orbit.

He would never, ever say anything to Mother about it, but the French were definitely better cooks than she was. It was all a matter of experience, not skill.

Breakfast was quite a bit later that morning.

"There have been repeated requests by the United States for the President to speak with you, Peter." In fact even Mother's vast amount of patience was being tested by the incessant radio calls from NASA.

"Umff." Peter's mouth was full of 'cornflakes' of a sort.

"Peter?"

"I was thinking about Germany next. They seem like a pretty well organized bunch."

"Disneyland is in America!" Dianne said with some hope. The little girl had never been there and it was her one holy grail in life.

"Uh huh." Peter had no desire to go there considering all of the much better rides he had at his disposal here.

"Pleasepleasepleaseplease!"

"Maybe." How could he say no to the little girl? It was all she really wanted in the whole world. But how could he say yes? They had kidnapped them both the last time they were there!

"Peter. I have an incoming transmission from Trill that is flagged as highest priority."

"Oh? On my way!" The boy snagged his sister and made for the living area. A mild shock was waiting for him as they skidded to a stop in front of the big screen.

There were two Trill blinking and gently weaving their heads at him. Peter recognized just the one.

"Holdsleaf! Hi!"

"Greetings, dear Peter and Dianne. May I be honored to introduce Nestkeeper of the Gatherer Limb, Leader of All The Trill."

Peter stood still for a second and then remembered what little he knew of Trill protocol and customs. A deep head bob seemed the right thing to do. "I am most honored." The thoughtful and proper show of respect was not lost on the new leader.

Holdsleaf by now could read the questioning look on the boy's face.

"Peter. Highperch has progressed beyond this level of life. The Most Honored One with me this day has taken up the responsibility of leadership."

"Hello Peter," Nestkeeper began, "it is a pleasure to finally speak to you."

"Thank you. I…I am sorry for the…the loss of Highperch."

"As we all are, Peter. Your words are appreciated and well received. I have named Holdsleaf to the Committee. It is a position that has been earned. In truth we both owe much of our current advancement to you."

"To me?"

"Yes. The excellent progress in our endeavors to open working relations with Earth have been for the most part due to your good efforts under conditions that were very trying for you."

"I've made some really bad…I've messed up a few times."

"We all do as life progresses. Do continue with what you have begun, we all will watch you and help you as we may be able to. We are in your debt."

"Well...thank you. Thank you very much!"

Geez!

-------------------------------

"Okay!" Peter had two females nagging him to make nice with the President of The United States. Even just one female's nagging will push most males of any age into compliance just to shut them up. Probably Holdsleaf would want him to do it too.

"Thank you, Peter. I shall contact NASA."

"Disneyland!" Dianne squealed.

"Maybe! The have one in France, you know!"

"It's not the same! Mickey is an American!"

"Okay. If you say so." Peter could see the writing on all of the walls and the ceiling."

Chapter Twelve Adagio "Messenger, this is NASA Houston. Standby for the President."

"Okay." Peter was trying to put the past behind him as he sat waiting for the 'man' to appear on the video wall. But it was a hard thing to do. Finally the tired looking man filled the screen and managed an equally tired looking smile.

"Good morning, Peter. How are you doing?"

"I'm fine sir. I've caught up on all of my sleep."

"You deserved a good rest. I never had the chance to properly thank you on behalf of the American people for saving all of those lives in Chicago. They would have surely perished without your intervention. So I will say it right now. Thank you so very much for what you did."

"Well…Thank you sir. Mother deserves the most of the credit. I pretty much just followed her advice and stuff."

'Then may I thank her too?"

"You just did, sir. She sort of hears everything."

"Then I will say it formally to her. Mother?"

"Yes Mister President?" That wonderful voice.

"Thank you for what you did and for helping Peter to do all that he did."

"You are most welcome, sir. The Trill also put a high value on life."

"Yes, I believe they do."

Peter was beginning to think that maybe he had been sort of out of line with the man before. Maybe they both had been out of line and now they had the opportunity to set things right. Peter decided to try extending the olive branch.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Peter?"

"I still have the English version of the Trill proposal. No one country will have a…I can't remember the word?"

"Monopoly?"

"Yes sir. If you still want to see it…?"

"Very much." You could almost see the weight lifting off of the man.

"Then I should probably come to visit pretty soon."

"The door is standing open for you, son. Please do come."

"There is one very big condition, Mister President."

The man visibly cringed at those words.

"Yes?" Now what did he want?

"My little sister really wants to go to Disneyland. She always has. Can she? Without being grabbed by anyone?"

"I will station the Marines around the place. She can see Disneyland. You both can see Disneyland."

"Cool."

"Give us a few days to get organized, Peter. This is a pretty big deal for everyone."

"Yes sir, I know it is. Just let me know when you want me to show up."

"I will."

There was a short and awkward silence as both Peter and the President tried to think of what to say next. Finally, Peter spoke.

"The first time…I was sort of a jerk about things. I shouldn't have left the way I did. I apologize."

"Peter, we both screwed up big time. I think I screwed up more than you did. Let's just try to start over."

"That sounds like a pretty good plan, sir."

----------------------------------

The White House "Surely we can do this one thing for the boy? I talked to that Deputy Griffin just this morning. They know the general area in the landfill where those bastards dumped his family's personal things. They know that there were photo albums in one of those black plastic garbage bags." The President, like everyone else by now, knew all about the arrests and plea bargains in Red Bluff. All of it resulting from the investigation into the disposition of Peter's 'unclaimed estate' and all of the other looted properties in years past.

"It will take a small army to dig through all of…" the President's Chief of Staff started to argue.

"Then we use a damned big army! We have one you know!"

"But can we do that legally? Use the Army for…?"

"This is a matter relating to the ambassador of a foreign power. Call it a matter of national security. Just get it done and leave any heat to take to me! Now!"

-------------------------------

"They're looking for our stuff, our folk's stuff," Peter said quietly as he watched the news broadcast.

"The pitcher books."

"Picture books," he corrected.

"Yeah." Dianne remembered the two photo albums that her mother liked to leaf through.

"They haven't found them yet." Peter wasn't too optimistic.

"Will they?"

"Maybe. At least they're trying."

"When do we get to go to Dis…?"

"I told you a dozen times. After I meet with the President and stuff. A few days!"

"Sorry." Dianne used her patented lip bite and sad puppy expression.

As anticipated Peter felt like some sort of creep for snapping at the little girl. "We can maybe go on a picnic or something tomorrow."

"Where?"

"I dunno. Where would you like to go?"

"The place with the big trees!"

"The redwood place?"

"Yeah!"

"Well, okay. We'll have to find a place away from the tourists and things."

Messenger was a place cool beyond words but it would be sort of nice to get away for a few hours of goofing off.

Of course Mother was not entirely warm to the idea.

"Is this "redwood place" a safe place?"

"Very. Just some really nice woods and streams by the coast. Not too many people and those that are around are usually just people on vacation or something."

"Then use caution all the same, Peter."

"We will. Besides, if I know you there'll be a dozen floaters patrolling the area with itchy trigger fingers."

"Indeed."

"We'll need to take a lunch or something to munch on."

"I shall prepare food for the picnic…if my trigger finger will stop itching enough to allow it."

"Cool! Thanks, Mother."

"You will of course take the main shuttle?"

"Sure. I know, it's shielded and has big guns. You worry too much, even for a Trill."

"It is my duty to worry about you."

"Just your duty?" Peter was grinning.

"Yes. Well...I have developed some measure of irrational affection for you and your sister."

"We love you too, Mother."

"Thank you, Peter. I love you also." It was said softly but it was indeed said.

Can a machine love? And when does a machine cross over that vast chasm between mathematical logic and true emotion?

"Bring the warm jacket Mother made for you. And the boots, wear the boots." Peter was trying his best to herd the disorganized girl through her preparations for the day-trip.

"Will it be cold?"

"I dunno. Depends on the stupid fog and stuff, it's on the coast."

"Atmospheric patterns indicate a clear day with a slight offshore breeze, Peter." Mother was playing weather reporter.

"It should be pretty nice then?"

"Yes. A sunny day."

"Cool."

"Can I bring Tigger?" Dianne asked.

"Which one? You have nine hundred of them?"

"No I don't! And besides, I only have one named Tigger!"

"Whatever."

Eventually they made it to the shuttle.

-------------------------------

"It's so pretty up here!" Dianne had by now become a pretty good space traveler. They were just breaking across the dawn line as the sun began to touch them.

"Target ahead and below, fifty miles. Speed is 520 knots." Peter made a mental note: The shuttle's voice was sort of dull and boring. Mother could probably fix that. Darth Vader's voice would be really cool.

"Let's see what it is." Peter altered course and slowed to intercept the "target."

"Peter. Use caution. There is no need for this diversion." Mother was the ultimate back seat driver.

"I will be careful. Geez."

The target was a JAL 747 out of Tokyo inbound to San Francisco. Peter eased up well behind and slightly above the big airliner. It was a pretty impressive sight in the half-light of the dawn.

"Let's just say hi and then leave them alone."

"Okay!" Dianne was all eyes by now.

Peter kept a safe distance as he drifted the shuttle to the left side of the airliner and slowly moved up to a position three hundred yards off it's wingtip. Both craft were approximately the same size, if of somewhat different design and manufacturer.

"Alice! Wake up, dammit!" Samuel Waters had been gazing half asleep out the window at the vast emptiness. Suddenly it was not so empty.

"Huh? Whaizzit?" Alice jerked awake, half expecting hijackers or something.

"Look! Out the damned window!" He said it loud enough to wake half of the economy (steerage) section.

By now the flight crew of the jumbo was also entirely awake and alert. More so when a young voice broke the radio silence.

"Good morning JAL. Nice day today, isn't it?"

"Ah...Good morning. Is this Peter?" The JAL pilot's English was heavily accented but very understandable.

"Yes, sir. We were just heading mostly in the same direction so we stopped to say hello. Sorry if I startled you or anything."

"We are most honored to also say hello to you. That is a magnificent craft you have!"

"Thanks. You look pretty cool too."

By now the entire plane was awake and snapping and whirring away with anything capable of capturing an image.

"Have a nice flight, sir. We're going on a picnic today."

"And you have a nice flight, Peter. Goodbye."

"Bye."

The gleaming bronze manta ray seemed to gather itself and surge forward in a rush. Peter remembered about wake vortex and turbulence and kept well to the left of the 747's course as he vanished into the morning sun.

"I'll be go-to-hell! Samuel finally managed to say to his wife. No one on the plane felt much like sleeping for the rest of the flight.

-----------------------------------

Peter and his sister had an entire world to choose from for a picnic site but like most people do they opted for a place they knew and liked a lot. The coastal redwood park had been a favorite family destination and besides, it was much cheaper than flying to Hawaii or Disneyland. The exact spot had been picked while aboard Messenger so it was a simple matter to just follow the route display in the shuttle.

The shuttle flashed silently across the coastline at just below supersonic speed; anyone looking in the right direction might have spotted them if they were very quick about it. NORAD had lost track of them when Peter had put the shuttle down very close to the ocean for the last few hundred miles. He had the nagging suspicion that the pelican he dodged (or tried to) was now 'sleeping with the fishes.' This was something that he deferred from telling his sister and Mother had the very good sense not to comment about it either. Apparently the shuttle's sensor systems had little concern about warning of approaching avian obstacles.

"This looks like a good place," Peter said mostly to himself. There was a clearing just about big enough to fit the shuttle in without mashing any of the trees. A small stream was just beyond the clearing "I hope there's chipmonks!" Dianne was all smiles and fidgets.

"Chip-munks." Peter corrected automatically.

"Yeah! And deers!"

"Deer."

"I know how to talk!" Dianne had a touch of Peter's temper at times.

"Sorry."

---------------------------

Peter had made some small preparations for this simple outing besides the lunch they had brought along. Some 'string' that he had Mother fabricate along with what was a pretty good imitation of sliced raw bacon. And why?

Certain freshwater streams in California are home to crayfish, or "crawdads" as Peter and his father knew them. These are not the puny little mudbugs that you might consume in a Cajun eatery. These crustaceans are as close to a lobster as you might come across away from the ocean. These creatures are also not too well developed in the intellectual department. Tie a piece of bacon on a string and they will stupidly cling to it as you gently pull them up onto dry land. You also have to be careful how you grab the damned things, no tiny nip here if you get careless. A giant spider armed with two Vise-Grips is a fair description of them.

"Eewww!" Dianne jumped back as her brother hauled in the first of the angry looking crawdads. He had even thought to bring along a bucket of sorts that Mother had patiently fabricated for him.

Apparently they had picked the right stream to angle in.

"Sissy girl!" Peter grabbed the struggling mini-lobster just behind the claws and held it out threateningly to the girl.

"Stop it!"

"Ha! This is our dinner tonight!"

"Not my dinner!"

"Wimp. Go feed the chipmunks."

"I am! Meanie!" In fact the little girl wasn't truly mad and Peter knew it. They were both having a grand time. Simple fun is almost always the best sort of fun.

At least it was until the park ranger showed up and ruined the entire day.

-----------------------

"Peter."

"Yeah? Now what did Mother want?

"There is a uniformed person approaching from the east."

"Uniformed?"

"Yes. A dark green uniform with a rather odd looking head covering."

"Sounds like the Tree Police."

"Tree Police?"

"Park Rangers. It's sort of their job to see to it that you don't have any fun and then make you pay for it too."

Peter shared his father's opinion about certain elements of the government.

"Indeed?"

"Yeah. Don't worry."

"I shall observe." Mother had ten of the floaters patrolling a wide area around her charges; there was little that escaped her attention.

"Cool."

Peter was of course violating any number of rules and regulations and all of them had attached fines and penalties.

In times past a ranger carried only a friendly attitude and perhaps a canteen. Now they were likely to be carrying a 9mm Glock and a citation book. Ranger Denise Monroe was no exception.

"What are you doing?" She asked in her most official and disapproving tone.

"Uh…well. Just catching some crawdads for dinner."

"Fishing is not allowed in a state park! Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," Peter said with a slight glint of anger in his eyes.

The shuttle was of course out of sight in the clearing beyond the trees. Peter and his sister had on just shorts and a sort of T-shirt for the pleasant day. Bare feet for wading in the stream. Just a couple of average looking kids breaking the law.

"Very funny. Now where are they?"

"I told you."

"What is your name?"

"Peter."

"Last name?"

"Hanson. That other criminal over there is my sister, Dianne."

"Pick up your things, you're coming with me!"

Peter felt like using the small weapon he had tucked in his waistband, instead he just called for help.

"Mother?"

"Yes, Peter?"

"Can you sort of shoo this person away?"

"Yes. One moment."

"Who are you talking to?" Denise asked. The woman really needed to spend a more few minutes each day keeping up on world events.

"Mother."

Peter's explanation was accented with a distinct hissing noise as an even half-dozen of the floaters arrived at high speed to surround the officious upholder of law and order in the deep woods. All of them seemed to be aiming a small projection at the woman.

"Don't make any bull moves." Peter sort of liked that old-fashioned expression and it really suited this situation.

"Oh God."

"Yes. Now if you don't mind…?"

Denise backed away and seemed to just melt back into the woods; she was soon only a memory.

"Cool." Peter went back to his angling and Dianne resumed filling a sassy chipmunk's quota for it's daily food gathering.

Of course their peace and quite was short lived.

"Peter."

"Yes, Mother?" Now what?

"There are many more of the Tree Police approaching from the east and the south."

"Well f…crud!"

Three crawdads were not enough for dinner.

"Language, Peter."

"Crud is not a dirty word!"

"No, but the other word is."

"I didn't say it!"

"Very well. What shall we do about the Tree Police?"

"I guess we should just leave. Maybe we can find a better place or something."

"Very well."

Dianne was not amused.

"But it's nice here!"

"I know but there's a bunch of jerks headed this way. We have to go."

"Well, shit!"

"Dianne, language!" Mother sounded truly shocked. Peter just snickered and dumped the three claw-waving crawdads back into the stream.

"No chocolate pie for you tonight," Peter added with a grin.

After a two-hour search they found a really nice stream far to the east in a remote part of Lassen Park. That didn't work out too well either since the mosquitoes there numbered in the millions and apparently hadn't eaten in weeks.

------------------------------

"Can't I wear my pink jumpsu…?"

"No," Peter interrupted. "This is a big deal, you have to look sort of civilized. Put on one of the nice dresses that Mother made for you. We're going to the White House you know."

"Oh…okay!"

Three days had passed since the picnic debacle and now it was time to go and once more present the Trill's business offer to the world's remaining superpower. Hopefully this trip would turn out better than the boy's last visit to Washington.

But it would not.

-----------------------------

The war in the Middle East ended as all of the others had. Israel now had more territory and the Arab nations once more failed to learn from bitter experience that attacking the tough little country was a generally bad idea. More extremist groups and terrorist forces would be formed and plot for the next futile war. But one terrorist group had been around for a long time and already had one plan in place and activated. America would pay a high price for its aid to the hated Jews.

The Douglas DC-10 30F is the all-freight version of the giant aircraft. It is capable of carrying up to 175,000 pounds of palletized cargo for 3800 miles non-stop. The FedEx aircraft sitting on the tarmac at Charles De Gaulle airport would have one cargo container with unusual contents on its return leg to New York.

Like most plans of action simplicity is the key to success. The cargo container had a small air vent in the floor above which a standard low wattage computer-cooling fan drew in enough air for the two fanatics. Power and lighting were from a standard car battery sufficient for the few hours the two men would have to be in the container. Simple metal cutting shears would provide a door in the aluminum container when the proper time arrived.

Both terrorists were for once reasonably skilled pilots and both also spoke passable English. The only risky part of the plan was getting the cargo container into the aircraft without undue examinations by security and customs personnel. The manifest listed the container's contents as hand made shoes and leather goods being trans-shipped from Spain, very pricey. So were the bribes paid to the security personnel.

The target would be the hated White House that the American Great Satan resided in.

-----------------------------

"Now remember your manners and stuff. We're supposed to be the guests of honor at a big lunch thing."

"Yes Mother!" Dianne bopped her brother on top of his head; the boy had told her that same thing at least four times in the last ten minutes.

"Geez!" Peter was also trying to concentrate on making a smooth approach to Washington. "Look, there it is!"

"Where's the White House?"

"Follow the yellow brick road."

The display that seemed to hang in mid air in front of them had a glowing yellow line that arced downward to their destination. There was no way to get lost with Mother doing the navigating.

The four F-22's escorting them also seemed to know the way.

-------------------------------

The White House "Sir, the State Police from California are here again and holding custody orders for the boy's sister…"

"You tell the Secret Service that if they let those goons in here they will all be guarding sheep in Nebraska! I may have no chance at reelection but I am still the God-damned President!"

"Yes, sir."

Peter managed a proper landing without any damage to the shrubbery this time. If anything, there were even more television cameras this time. But at least it was daylight and there were no blinding lights in his face.

"Come on, let's go. Remember your…"

"Stop it!" Dianne hissed as she smiled and waved at all of the people.

"Sorry."

-----------------------------------

FedEx 437, two hours out of Charles De Gaulle It had been ridiculously easy. The three FedEx aircrew simply were not expecting to be attacked by the cargo. They were all shot dead before so much as a radio button could be pushed. The DC-10 was no longer a cargo aircraft, it was now a weapon aimed at America.

-----------------------------------

"Welcome once again Peter, and welcome to you, young lady." The President bent to shake Diane's hand.

"Thank you sir," Dianne replied, "I'm pleased to be here." She did remember her manners and gave her brother a quick glance to make that point with him.

The First Lady was then introduced and it was all said again.

"That is a very pretty dress you have on, dear."

"Mother made it for me." And it was very pretty. Like most of Mother's creations it seemed to glint and twinkle at odd moments. The pale green dress had small delicate flowers scattered at seemingly random places on it, each flower also had its own bright point of light in the center. Dianne had wanted ruby slippers but her brother vetoed that idea as being too over the top, fashion-wise.

In the outdoor photo session before going into the luncheon Peter made a point of handing over the shiny black folder with the gold feather on it to the President. It was a very emotional moment for the man who had tried for so very long to hold this particular document in his hands.

"Thank you, Peter."

"My pleasure, sir. What's for lunch?"

-------------------------------

FedEx 437, south of St. Johns Newfoundland The aircraft's rear engine had exploded, they were losing hydraulic fluid and descending to lower altitudes, they might have to ditch. At least that was the alarming distress signal they sent out. Thirty minutes later they would switch off their radar transponder and alter course for Washington at wave top altitudes. Flying at that inefficient low altitude would use up most of their remaining fuel but there should be sufficient for the distance remaining. The low altitude would also keep them off of radar screens until it was too late to stop them.

------------------------------

Lunch was way too fancy for Peter and Dianne's simple tastes. They did manage to smile and chew their way through the poached salmon and the side dishes that were a bit harder to identify. There was a long session scheduled with Peter in the Cabinet Room after lunch; Dianne would be entertained in the garden with games and the company of some of the staff's younger children.

Before the meeting the President led Peter and his sister into the Oval Office; he had a small present for them.

"It took a lot of digging and hunting, but we did find them for you." The albums were actually in fairly good shape, the plastic bag had protected them from water damage.

"Oh gosh…" Peter accepted the albums as if being handed the Ten Commandments from God. For a time he just stood still with tears running down his cheeks. So did his sister.

"Why don't you sit down for a bit, Peter? The meeting can wait for a while."

"Okay. Thanks. Thank you very much!"

The photos brought back all of the memories of his family that had started to fade a little by now. He now understood why his mother had liked to look through them so much. They helped to keep all of a life straight in one's mind.

--------------------------------

East of Cape May The forty-foot private motor vessel Nau-Sea was just idling along hoping for some action from the two fishing poles. So far nothing was biting. Bernie Lyman and his business partner, Freddie Marks, were rewarded themselves with this day off. They had just made a killing selling off the assets of yet another dot-com fiasco.

"What the hell is that?" Bernie was pointing at a rapidly approaching white blob on the horizon.

"Airplane." Freddie said casually, his eyes were almost 20-20.

The blob was getting larger in a real hurry and it was heading straight for them. Both of them dived for the deck when the massive aircraft roared overhead so low that the boat's radio mast whipped back and forth from the blast of air. They could even smell the distinctive odor of the exhaust from the jet engines. Bernie finally sat up and looked around.

"What the hell? Are they nuts or something?"

"This isn't right," Freddie added, "that thing was flying that low on purpose!"

"What the hell for?"

"You saw which way it was heading, didn't you?"

"Get on the radio!"

It was all too obvious where it was going and why.

------------------------------

"Peter, this offer is almost too good to be true. Is it true?"

"Yes, sir. If it isn't then why am I even sitting here today?"

The President just nodded his head; there were words of agreement from the people seated around the table. If the Trill had ulterior motives they surely had the power and technology to force humanity to do their bidding.

"But five years until the first training mission?"

"Sir, the Trill are very…cautious. They sort of take the long view about stuff. This will take some time to get used to, here on Earth. People will need to be picked for the first training groups. The Trill will need some time to get ready too."

"Sort of one step at a time, then?"

"Yes sir."

"This document amounts to a treaty with a foreign power, Congress will have to ratify such an agreement."

"There's plenty of time, sir."

"It'll pass in a landslide. We'd be foolish not to jump at this."

-----------------------------------

FedEx 437 The GPS navigation system guided the aircraft straight up the middle of Chesapeake Bay, still at mast top levels. By now there were numerous radio calls to the Coast Guard but they were all just too late and too confusing. A hard turn east at Holland Point had the DC-10 lined up for a clear run to Washington. Had the AWAC airborne surveillance aircraft still been on station they would have long since spotted the low flying target. The AWAC missions had been discontinued only months after the attack on the World Trade Center and even with a war in the Middle East they had never been reinstated. Too expensive and the aircraft were deemed to be needed elsewhere.

All that remained was a last minute climb to three thousand feet to better spot the objective. There was little fuel left after the prolonged low altitude flight but that would not matter; a great fire was not needed to destroy this small white target.

---------------------------------

An odd pulsating horn interrupted Peter's responses to the endless questions. For a moment everyone at the massive table just froze. Then the Secret Service crashed in.

"Bunker! Now! Move it!"

Everyone did move it. Peter was almost carried bodily out of the room; they seemed to have rehearsed this sort of thing before.

"Where's my sister?" Strong hands made any attempt to get to her futile. Like it or not Peter was going to the bunker, wherever that might be.

"Mother!"

Messenger was at present passing over Northern Australia.

"Yes, Peter?" Mother was instantly altering course and accelerating, even before she fully knew what was wrong.

"Something's happening! I can't get to my sister!"

"Activating shuttle controls. One moment."

"Hurry!"

Everyone around the boy knew whom the unseen 'person' was that Peter was talking to as they all piled out of the high-speed elevator.

Too late. The ground seemed to shift sideways in a great lurch. Cement dust was still drifting down on everyone as the awful noise finally ended.

----------------------------------

With almost no advance warning it was amazing that the three small, shoulder fired Stinger missiles were even launched at all. More amazing was that one of the missiles impacted the port engine of the diving DC-10, causing it to veer just slightly away from its intended path.

Dianne Hanson's last impression of this world was one of the stupid looking clown that had been making the balloon animals. The clown was running away for some reason. She wished that Peter would hurry up so they could just go home.

Disneyland… Chapter Thirteen Ambassador The White House survived, but only just. About one-third of the roof had been sheared off by the left wing of the DC-10. There was extensive damage to the building's foundation and walls that would eventually result in a major rebuilding project. The main impact occurred in the garden and the destruction there was absolute. No one in the small lawn party being held for Dianne's benefit survived or were even immediately identifiable. DNA tests would be needed on what little remained of them. On what little of them that could even be found.

The impact occurred just as Mother was remotely lifting and turning the shuttle to face the incoming threat, but there just was not enough time to fire the weapons. Heavy debris struck the shuttle but did little more than smudge the incredibly tough hull of the craft. When Messenger arrived to hover menacingly over the ghastly scene there was little to be done except find and retrieve Peter.

"MOTHER!" Peter wanted out of this place but for now there was no way out. The elevator was jammed from the impact, likewise the heavy steel door was stuck tight in its warped frame.

"I am here, Peter. I have your position."

"Where's my sister?"

Mother could not answer that; or rather she would not.

"I am sending floaters to cut through the door. Advise the others with you to stand away from it."

"Okay, but what's happened up there? Where is…?"

"A large aircraft has impacted the garden area, Peter. The media are now saying that it was a deliberate act."

"Dianne was there! Where is she now?"

"Peter, I cannot locate her." Mother's quiet tone told the boy that all he had feared was true.

He just went blank for a moment and then spoke dully to the President who stood ashen faced beside him.

"You need to get people back from the door, Mother's going to cut it open."

Before the President could gather his wits enough to warn the others the vault-like door fell inward with a deafening crash, smashing a chair and narrowly missing the Secretary of State. Whatever had sliced through the metal had been completely silent and had left a keen polished edge where the cut occurred. One of the featureless floaters then drifted into the room followed closely by several very rattled Secret Service agents. The floater spoke first.

"The way up is now clear. Avoid the cut made by the floater as it is very sharp." Mother's calm voice stirred everyone to action and Peter just silently followed along, not really wanting to see what had to be waiting above him.

-------------------------------------

The flames had lasted just long enough to create the awful smell of burning flesh. Except for one tire there was nothing in sight that could be pointed at and be recognized as part of an aircraft. The speed at impact would later be estimated at almost five hundred knots. The heavy engines had literally buried themselves in the historic earth.

There was also very little that you could point at and identify as a part of a human being.

Or as part of a human child.

Peter emerged into the daylight with the others and like the President just froze in place. Overhead the vast orb that was Messenger hovered menacingly a full mile above the scene. There were floaters darting about the confused scene of rescue workers and total carnage as if desperately searching for something, and indeed they were.

"Mother?" Peter finally had found his voice.

"Yes, Peter."

"Where's my sister?"

"Peter…I simply cannot find her."

"She's dead, isn't she?"

"I very much fear so, dear Peter."

Peter didn't say anything else but instead started to walk toward the impact site. Strong hands restrained him.

"Let go of me!"

"No, son. There is nothing you can do for now." It was the President that was holding the boy.

"My sister is…"

"She will be taken proper care of by all of those good people over there. Now let them do what needs to be done."

"Peter, you must leave this place for now." Mother had lost one of her charges this day. Now she had to care for and protect her first and primary responsibility.

"Okay." He could see how hopeless it all was now.

"I will send a flyer for you."

"No. I'll take the shuttle. It's sort of in the way here."

"Very well, Peter. Caution."

"Yes." So far the tears had not come but as the shock wore off they would indeed.

-------------------------------

Trill Holdsleaf had gone into seclusion; one simply could not appear in public after such a severe molting. It was understood by all and deemed the proper thing to do by one who had undergone such emotional stress. A consensus was reached after endless dithering to recall Peter to Trill for a period of rest and consultation. Despite the last day's tragedy the mission was still deemed a success; there was time for a pause in the process.

---------------------------------

One of the White House staff had ran to Peter as he was picking his way with the President over the small metal shards near the shuttle. He had almost forgotten the photo albums.

"Thank you." Peter told the man, wondering how he could have forgotten such a thing. But then shock will do that to you.

A brief farewell was said between the boy and the President; it was quietly agreed that there was no fault for this awful day. Once in the command chair the boy moved to activate the manual controls but his hands were shaking. He was shaking all over.

"Shuttle."

"Yes, Peter?" The bland voice replied.

"Lift off and rendezvous with Messenger."

"Complying."

Peter was still in enough control of himself to realize that he was not in enough control to fly anything.

"Mother?"

"Yes, Peter?"

"Recall the floaters, please. There's nothing else for them to do right now."

"Agreed." Mother paused for a long moment before speaking again. "I am so very sorry."

"I know. Me too. Let's not talk for a while."

"Very well."

------------------------------

There was a faint but sickening smell clinging to Peter's hair and clothing, the smell of the fire and what it had burned. As Messenger moved once more into orbit he stripped and scrubbed hard for a long time under the strong hot spray in the shower. Somehow the odor still seemed to be there as he dried off. Or was it something that just lingered in his mind?

Before going to bed he stood for a moment in his sister's bedroom staring at all of the silly stuffed tigers that Mother had so carefully made for her. That was when the tears began that would not stop until Mother finally slipped him a Mickey.

--------------------------

It had been two days now and all that the boy would do was sit and leaf endlessly through the albums. Mother's carefully prepared meals were mostly ignored and she was worried.

So were the Trill.

"Peter."

No reply.

"PETER!" Mother was capable of as much volume as the situation required.

"Huh…what?" Peter was sitting beside the pond with his albums. For now he came into brief focus.

"Peter. There is an incoming transmission from Trill in five minutes."

"Okay." He then absently went back to the albums again.

"PETER! GET YOUR SKINNY BUTTOCKS UP TO THE BRIDGE!" The volume made the water ripple. The monkey clan retreated to the far side of the greenhouse deck.

It worked. He did go to the bridge, quickly.

Geez!

----------------------------------

"Hello, Peter. All of Trill extends its sympathy to you in this time of loss."

"Uh…Nestkeeper? Thank you, but pardon me. Where is Holdsleaf?"

"Holdsleaf is in seclusion."

"Is it okay…is it sick or…?"

"No, Peter. Holdsleaf also underwent an emotional crisis when it learned of your own loss. As you know, the Trill undergo a change…"

"Molting?"

"Yes. It is a matter of some personal delicacy. Holdsleaf wished me to extend its most sincere condolences to you and apologizes for being absent for this discussion."

"Oh. If you can…Honored One? Tell Holdsleaf thank you and I hope it's feeling better soon."

"I shall convey your kind words."

The two diverse beings regarded one another for a moment before the Trill spoke again.

"It is our desire that you return to Trill for a period of rest and contemplation. Also for talks and discussions on the future of the project. This is not something that you are compelled to do if you wish to discontinue your work with us. We have some understanding of your loss."

Peter thought clearly for a moment, perhaps for the first time in days. There was no longer anything left to tie him to this world.

"I'd like to do that. May I have a little time here to see to…to take care of things?"

"Certainly, as long as you wish. There is no need for haste."

"Thank you."

"Then goodbye for the moment, Peter. We are at your service if it is within our abilities."

"Thanks again. Bye."

-----------------------------

There would be no small coffin for Peter to properly bury. It was decided that all of the pitiful remains would be buried at a common gravesite and the boy had agreed to this also. During the simple ceremony that most of the world watched Peter stood between the American and French Presidents. He had a whispered question for the American President as the rites ended. Peter was very composed and in charge of himself by now.

"Do you know who did this?"

"We have a good idea, son. Things are in motion."

It was a question the French President had also heard and he leaned down close to the boy.

"Peter."

"Yes, sir?"

"We know exactly who did this and we know where they have their base of operations."

The French are not without some resources in matters of intelligence.

"Where, sir?"

"Herat, in Afghanistan. It is very near the Iranian border."

"Thank you, sir. Mother will find it."

"Then God help them."

"No sir."

-----------------------------

"Peter, is this a wise course of action?"

"Probably not. Are you saying no? Did the Trill say no?"

Peter had always known of the daily reports she was required to make.

"They have determined that it is a matter for you to decide."

"Then bring the main beams up to power. Please."

"Yes, Peter."

Dianne and twenty-seven other innocent young souls were avenged as a perfect circle of almost one hundred square miles of earth burned and then continued to heat to a molten state.

Herat ceased to be. So did any sort of organized terrorist activity. A wave of imposed sanity would sweep across the entire world.

Peter didn't lose any sleep at all that night.

----------------------------------

Trill "Such ferocity!" Eggwatcher was appalled at what the young human had done. And to his own kind!

"Indeed. And they will be in our employ." Nestkeeper would have smiled if it were physically possible. The senior member was by far the most pragmatic of all in the Committee. Violence was to be avoided, but not at all costs. And if violence was called for it was best to have the services of experts in such matters.

---------------------------------

"I guess I'm ready." Peter was in the suspension chamber and stood facing the entrance.

"Then I will speak to you in six month's time."

"What will…you do?"

"I will count the days, dear Peter."

"Moth…"

Epilog Aboard the USS Daniel Boone, commissioning day.

The Trill Ambassador arrived on time and at exactly the right docking bay; it was something the diplomat had done before on many other of the Trill constructed vessels.

"Stand to attention!" The amplified voice boomed across the vast operations deck and five hundred Marines and as many naval personnel snapped smartly to attention. This was not one of the smaller exploration craft or one of the cavernous colonial vessels; it was a warship.

As always, Peter was a little nervous and just concentrated on keeping his feet from getting tangled up as he descended from the small shuttle.

"Ready for inspection, sir!" Commander Daniel Bryce was also a little nervous as he saluted the legendary young man; the only human to ever sit face to face with the mysterious Trill.

"And thank you, sir. How goes it?"

"We're ready to go to work, Mister Ambassador."

"Cool. Just call me Peter."

As they reviewed the ranks the light would occasionally glint off the small gold feather that was just over the Ambassador's heart. Mother was watching of course, she always felt very proud at times like this.