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.

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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.

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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."

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"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.

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"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.

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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.

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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."

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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.

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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.

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"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!"

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"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 whate