Far Colonies

by vanth123

This is a story of humans taken from Earth by the Visitors. Instead of being taken to the Visitor home world they wake to find themselves in the colonies. Here they must try to survive not only the Visitors but the enemy and life on a colony planet.

Christmas Far From Home

Tomas

The wind came from nowhere carrying with it a bit of snow.

The whir, whir sound of windmills used to make power brings the six-foot blond marching forward to a standstill as he walks back to his barracks home. Only three and half months ago, those same barracks had been his imprisonment. Locked in and not let out. The windows had been covered so the human prisoners were unable to see the sun. Further, they did not know that just twenty-five feet under them was a safe room. This safe room had far more luxury than the barracks they were imprisoned into for those long dreary months.

This world once strange and hostile to him now asks for his heart and his soul. Why should he do so? Is it the fact that they may now survive their turmoil? Is this a lost Eden? Tomas Faber always wanted to be an adventurer a pioneer. Here is his chance but not with aliens and certainly not with the hated Visitors.

Tomas shifts restlessly in his thoughts his grayish blue eyes scanning the horizon. There are not, just one colony world but six struggling new worlds trying to survive one disaster after the other. Three planets and three moons colonized far from Earth and further yet from the sirian home world. However, the precarious hold that the sirians have on these colonies may soon vanish. This is the talk, the rumor of his community. The unknown enemy that had swept them from their course to the sirian home world now supposedly waits to destroy human and sirian alike. Tomas shrugs and dismisses the gossip for the moment for he is cold and wishes to be somewhere warm. Tomas continues on his way but uneasy thoughts will not let him be. He is conscious of damp palms as his thoughts nag at him like a fruit fly buzzing about overripe fruit.

He looks back from where he has come, back where snakes walk upright. The scaled ones speak and act as humans. Tomas hates them, but must continue to bury that hate if he is to survive. His father James says it an ancient hate full of dangers, it is the fear of the snake and is as old as humankind. He shifts fretfully this fear is to be overcome and not to just be accepted. It is a new life to be embraced as his new one. Tomas has reservations that he ever will, at least not with the reptiles but he will learn to build new dreams.

His slender frame shivers with the cold. He flexes his fist. Hard work has given him new strength but the wind whips hard against him reminding him who is stronger. Then Tomas watches the wind spin and turn as if in an unnatural fury, swirling out into the darkness, seeking a new course and leaving him behind. The light of Alaka's two moons guides his steps back to the barracks. One of the moons Venezula is also colonized and in the past few days, several humans have been sent there to beef up the colony population. Hopefully, they will not or have not already become part of the Sirian food chain.

Tomas enters the barracks room he calls home. His mother Lily is five foot and was once a bit heavy set. She is becoming quite slender. All the fad diets his mom had tried in the past and wouldn't you know it, it only took a bit of imprisonment and bad food to reduce her bulk. Then of course, it was in his mother's nature not to see children suffer. There had been little food in the beginning and she had given up for much of hers to the children. Starvation and malnutrition is probably the number one diet surefire not to fail.

He listens as his mother hums a simple tune while she mends a shirt, almost like home. The light is bright and the room warm. Bitterly Tomas must acknowledge the sirians know how to produce efficient and clean power. Then again, they had made countless more mistakes on their home world. The sirian people had been forced to rethink what they did and how to do it correctly. Too late of course, the sirian home world is a disaster. This is why they put so much energy towards sucking the Earth dry of water and collect humans as cattle. What does Earth look like now. He frowns. Likely Earth is endless deserts as surely the Visitors have sucked Earth dry of water.

Lily pauses to glance up from her work. His father James and his sister Pat are both a study of concentration as they play checkers. Checkers is his father's favorite game and he is always happy to rope someone into a game.

Tomas scowls briefly. He is bored to the edge of antipathy. Tomas watches his father reach for a cup of weakened sirian coffee. More like flavored water but it is one of those traditions of home that makes life comfortable for his dad. He is impressed the way his father has embraced the new life adding as much of the old one when he can. James is a man who surely knows how to make lemonade. However, life knows how to throw more lemons at you than you could possibly ever make lemonade.

His father had more than his fair share of lemons. James had prized his own military career. Still his father was proud that his son would follow the same career path himself. Yes, his father and his Uncle Chris were excited by his acceptance to West Point. Tomas would have been the first to graduate from the academy in his family and his father would have been there in his own uniform to see that big day. Then one night and one drunk later his father had lost an arm, a leg and a career. The drunk of course was without a scratch. Tomas shrugs, well even if his dad was a general he would not be graduating from West Point.

The upperclassmen and staff once the Visitors made their presence felt had either one by one disappeared or left for various reasons. Youth Leader Marek and former friend had come by one day warning him to leave the academy. Marek had also made subtle comments about his roommate Art. Tomas has no idea if he was warned that trouble was coming or manipulated to leave. He left immediately along with Art. Now he has no idea what has happened to his friends Art, Adam, and Benjamin from the academy and can only hope they still live. Hell, he had no idea what had happened to his own brother left behind in Texas.

Tomas also has no doubt that his supposedly new sirian friends whom he had met at school would hurt his family without hesitation. All sirian's he has learned are alike. They are all two legged snakes. Tomas sneers. Yeah they talk with forked tongues and silky lies spring forth like sweet wine. How he would like to ignore the danger and strike against the snakes. Tomas takes a deep breath and calms himself for he will do nothing. Troublemakers could bring the end of any hope of ever leaving here. To think he once craved adventure how stupid he had been.

Scanning the room, he still can find nothing that reminds him of home. Sheet-like material hangs to mark bedrooms in the tiny room they call home to give privacy. Tomas smiles and teases his sister like the old days, "Hey pussy cat you better watch dad carefully."

Tomas feels worse for Pat now turned fifteen. She is becoming a woman on this dreadful world with the snakes ready to eat anything. If she survives until she is old enough to marry, there are few men near her age. Maybe less if the snakes are hungry. His jaw tightens he can feel his bad mood still with him. This is a reminder of what he has been told. Snakes crave human flesh and the lizards eat humans.

Pat sticks her tongue out at him and she quickly returns to her game. Once her caramel colored hair had fallen past her shoulders and now like his mom it is cut short. No need to brush it from eyes and it is easier to care for when shorter. Her eyes dart towards him and she gives him a smile. Except for this, her eyes barely move as she carries on with her quiet game. He would return her smile but his mood is still dark within him. Instead, Tomas moves closer and stands next to them almost like a sentry guarding his family from the snakes, the wind, and the new world at large.

Tomas watches the game quietly. Occasionally one of the players will slowly place their hand on a game piece and move it to a different square. Pat had once hated this game and called it to slow. Their first three months here on the alien world they had been locked up in the barracks and never allowed out. She learned to play the game on a makeshift board her father made. Now she is as rabid a player as their father is.

Again, the alien wind comes pushing against the walls of their barrack home. There is a hint of this alien world being carried in its sound a reminder that this is not Earth. His mother shivers and looks to her family. Tomas is restless, ready to do something anything to chase away his pent up rage. He is braced for trouble although he never budges a muscle. His mouth can only be described as a grim line. His mother seems to sense his unrest. Lily hurries to the new makeshift window and closes the curtains as though trying to block out the strange alien sound. Tomas knows she is trying to preserve the sense that they are on good old Texas soil. Lily returns to her mending and his father and sister to their game.

Becca

The Wong sisters, Helen and her younger sister Becca sit in their barrack home separated from the next family by some sort of strange foamy material. They like most people care for some of the orphaned children. Becca helps during the day to care for the youngest of the children in their community. Who would have thought her lot in life was babysitter twenty-four, seven. It is tiring work.

Tonight they are looking over a list that they have been assigned to work on. Their people only two weeks ago have determined that Christmas will be in ten days. They have been given permission to have a minor celebration by the sirians. It is vital James Faber has told their community to have a celebration, a group activity that is a reminder of home. They will roll Christmas, Hanukah and whatever else together so all will get a chance to taste the remembrance of home if only for a few days.

The strange wind sends a short patter of what appears to be snow against the window. Without thinking, Becca is out of her chair and to the window. The trick of white against dark against the glass is disquieting for her. She stands and watches the white stuff gathering on the outside sill. Her heart, pounds for a long moment as though it believes it is in a life and death struggle. Finally, even her beating heart is comforted that no sirian stands outside the window and she relaxes. She is reminded of being taken out of the sleeping pods and an odd queasiness settles in the pit of her stomach. Becca shivers.

Sixteen-year-old Becca, shivers with the thought of that day, her last day on the mothership. Her eyes narrow as she gazes into the gloom. Becca seeks the danger she feels in the wind. She shivers again from the memory of having been woken from her pod by a sirian and not one in her fake skin, but in her real skin. The real skin was all scaly green. The scaly snake wiped the sticky clear jelly stuff from her face. Becca had shivered then from a chill deep in the marrow of her bones. She in fact felt like a newborn baby taken from the womb. Becca also remembered being so very cold.

Becca's first breathes of air had hit her lungs like pins. She was told to strip when finally she found her feet. Then she was marched through an odd shower that smelled of disinfectant. After this, she along with many others was marched quickly to a transport shuttle in the nude. Becca had placed her hands as best she could to cover herself. She had felt humiliated and violated. Worse was to happen. They were moved to a makeshift barracks on the planet. The same barracks that they use as homes now and were locked in them for three months. Even though she knows most of the stench is gone, she can still smell it just the same.

She had seen very little of the alien world at that time. All she saw was a small bit of it as the sirians forced her and her fellow humans to run from the shuttle to the barracks. After that, they were at once barred in cold windowless large rooms. It had been hours before they were given some tan colored jumpsuits and slipper like shoes to wear. The children and there were so many children were given sheets to wrap around themselves until makeshift clothes could be made. Many of the children are orphaned with no idea what had happened to their parents. Not only did small children cry but also grown men were brought to weep from the sad conditions. It is a bitter memory of first chaos and then unending boredom.

Becca peers again outside concentrating on the imagined trooper standing close by ready to sweep down on them. She places her hand against the cold glass of the window. Her thoughts drift again to her captivity, the lack of warm food and that there had been no bedding or cots the first week. Not much later, it began to rain in a never-ending drizzle. Sometimes the rain fell in torrents that made as much a chill in the bones as the true dampness that had been part of their lives the first week. The sound of rain still sends chills up her spine. That horrible time not so long ago remains with her still as much as the ever-present wind, the rain and people crying in anguish or worse.

Later much later, they had learned of the commander's orders, the commander of the mothership that brought them to this dreadful planet. He had ordered the sirian colonists to care well for them, the humans. The colonists were to make certain they had X amount of food and water. They were also to insure when the commander returned his cargo was healthy. Only if the humans caused violence could they be mistreated and punished or even executed. Although caging them in dark squalid barracks was apparently not mistreatment.

The colonists hated her and the other humans and watched as their food was given to non-sirian. It did not take a linguist to understand how much the sirian colonists loathed humans. Then some bright sirian officer thought why not allow the prisoners to be part of the community but not really part of the community. They will work equally and share equally in the food and supplies. Becca is not sure if they are slaves or not. They live still in their dank barracks. One thing is certain. If a human kills a sirian, then all humans will be punished. In fact, the same officer told their community leaders that the sirians are hoping something bad will happen so they could get rid of the captives. The leaders of their human community now make certain that the troublemakers did nothing to cause problems. Becca turns from the window. They all share in the shame. She pulls her hand away now cold from the pane and looks at it. The blood is on all of their hands as troublemakers have nasty fatal accidents. Then at last the rage and the fear flees and she returns to her task, but through the remainder of the night, she occasionally turns to look out the window.

Helen

Helen gathers her long dark hair in a ponytail and ties it with a colored string. She smiles at her younger sister Becca who gives her only a furtive glance. Helen smiles and says, "Beautiful night isn't it." There is no response from her younger sister. Helen smiles again and begins a Christmas song. Becca joins her, but is distracted at something that only she can see at the window. Helen stops singing and hums a bit still in a contented mood.

It must be with Christmas spirit that she eagerly anticipates the upcoming Christmas celebration. She is so excited. The young ones are especially looking forward to the festivities. Some wonder how Santa will ever find them on another world. They are relieved when told Santa knows where to find both good and naughty children. Helen stands and walks to a sheet and parts it a bit and peers into the area where several children are sleeping. She watches for a moment their even breathing and sweet faces. They will grow and Christmas will be part of their children's tradition and humans will be responsible for Christmas on an alien soil. If only given a chance they will bring so much more to this world.

Smiling she returns to the list. Then Helen closes her eyes for a moment and allows herself to be drawn into the sound of the wind outside. The wind is a comfort and she sighs pulling in the new alien sounds of her new world close to her. It may not be considered luck to have been brought here, but Helen knows that it was the most fortunate kind of luck. A large part of her has embraced this as her home and she has high expectations for her future. Most do not want to be here their lives were better and more fulfilling somewhere else. She understands their misery and longing for home as she was like everyone else at first, but now all is different. She has a new attitude and the spirit of adventure is everywhere. All is new. First, she knows that always someone must be first. They are simply the first, the new pioneers. Second, they are the first human colonists on an alien planet. It can get no more exciting this.

Helen acknowledges the fact that there has been adversity. Yes, there have been many hardships, hardships when they first came and more will surely follow. Times are getting better though. Three steps forward and two back. Is that the saying and eventually you reach the goal.

To bad that men, human men are of such short supply. However, most men age fourteen to forty were sent to other mothership's apparently during the sorting process when they were first being put in the pods. The women, children, elderly, handicapped and troublemakers were to be shipped as food somewhere, the home world Helen imagines. This is the rumor in the community. Also for some reason most men that established that they had families when being processed with children were placed in the same mothership with them. The thought must have been to allow them to be with their families until the bitter-end. Likely, the sirians did not wish to deal with men angered over what may have happened to their young children. She has been told that the mothership that she was on was not one of those that visited Earth. Helen snorts the joke is that they were aboard large roach wagons on the way to the sirian home world. She shutters and pushes this thought from her. It would do no good to dwell on these thoughts now. It is after all just rumors and it is all a guessing game now. Life must go on.

All this was to happen before the enemies marauding warships found and cut the mothership she was in away from its true course. The enemy line closed in on the ship cutting off all escape. This is the hand of fate for the lucky humans that had been stored in the ships sleep pods or the sirian Seal-A-Meal containers. This of course as with most information came from some of the people who had been on the ship awake and from a few sirian's that spoke English when questioned. Those on the ship were not certain and the sirian's they spoke to were either evasive or did not know the truth. Most sirians do not speak their languages just as they do not speak Sirian. However, speculation is high and the community leaders have never come back with anything different.

The one thing that was becoming quite certain was the fate of the men not on their mothership. Those poor men were sure to be fodder for the sirian land armies against their mortal enemies unless fate steps in. Now no more information comes to the sirian's as the same enemies that has stranded the mothership from its fleet, keeps the sirians from their leader. Perhaps the men are dead if that is so then they suffer no more and maybe that is a kinder fate. Helen catches herself before her thoughts grow darker and dwells instead on the possibilities of a golden future. For Becca's boyfriend was one not with them and he had been taken at the same time as they had been.

Helen sees possibilities and not tragedy for her people. Fate has stepped in and the dice are to be thrown once again before their future is clear or definite. The game has not been decided. She has to see it positively. She dare not allow herself to be negative or she will be of no help to anyone. Her people of Earth will never leave these colonies and any thought to the contrary is just wishful thinking. They can be just as much a part of this world as the sirians. Destiny that is the word the only word she can believe in. Helen smiles, she will make hay while the sun shines.

Vlisv Slo

The wind blows across even the large settlement buildings and out to its shallow manufactured lake. The Second stands watching Commandant Ol'klasvs, a tall old man with a scarred face and a white eye. The Commandant pauses at the small open window allowing the fresh, clean wind to touch his face before he leaves for his rooms. The Commandant has spent months extremely ill and at times in a near comatose state. His health is still in question, and he tires easily.

The Second Vlisv Slo is twenty years younger than the Commandant is. His face is covered with small pockmarks. The scars are from a bad reaction to acid rain on the home world. Vlisv tenses as the strange chill passes all around him from the open window. The Commander turns as though called and he and Vlisv exchange hard glances. Vlisv is in grave trouble with the Commandant. The Second turns quietly to the doctor nodding to him to attend the Commandant. Between Vlisv and the doctor who stands silently for a moment a sudden oppressive gloom falls. The doctor knows what to do.

For over three months, Vlisv has taken charge of the day-to-day operations of the Far Colonies while the Commandant lay to ill to fulfill his duties. Ol'klasvs is back in his office and he has immediately begun issuing orders as though he had never missed a day. However, this evening Vlisv Slo has been questioned on why the humans are out of the barrack enclosures by Ol'kasvs. It has been hard to reason with the man, but the doctor understands Vlisv's reasoning and the Commandant will be given some medication for sleep. Perhaps a true sleep will bring the man to his senses. However, Vlisv fears that it will buy him only a few days at most. The Far Colonies and the survival of the sirian colonists are foremost on his mind. He has no idea how he can conceive and orchestrate a plan in enough time that will not only appease Ol'klasvs but also keep peace. The humans will not go peaceably to their incarceration this time.

Looking to the open window, Vlisv catches his reflection in one of the side panes and stops. He has lost even more weight these past few months his red uniform hangs all wrong. Vlisv Slo rubs his crest in disgust his scales have grayed a bit due to stress. The Second sets his jaw hard. If left to Ol'klasvs the humans would all be dead or sick by now. The commander of the mothership has made it all too clear the wishes of the Great Leader, but Ol'klasvs knows only the letter of the command. Ol'klasvs refuses to question the commanders reasoning on the human equation.

Vlisv Slo knows they have been lucky. Things could have been different. The humans could have revolted against them, or his people could have rioted for giving away what little food they had to aliens. There would not have been peace. He can see a mental picture of blood red and green running in torrents flashing before his eyes. Blood drips from everything. Shock troopers gunning down humans in mass and the trouble it will bring them when the mothership commander came to collect what would be dead humans. His stomach kicks up acid. The sour taste lies in the back of his throat and he shakes the image from his head.

There will be no blood and no trouble for the colonies. His mind races and he finds himself making a child's prayer, a prayer from the old days. The colony does not work when the iron fist is applied. The colonists are not soldiers and this is not a fort. To long away from the home world for some and many have never even been to the home world of their people. Ol'klasvs refuses to understand that for most this is the home world. Many have been borne to one of the colonies. The Second shivers as the wind sends a chill through him distracting him from any further dark thoughts.

Vlisv as though obeying the wind at last crosses to the window. He watches as the wind blows through the colony cavorting like some mad dancer. It twists about like a demented toy touching men from another world who now live here with his people. Vlisv cares little for what the bitter wind brings the aliens. He whispers to the wind if only it could bring help he would be in its debt. When all else fails, pray.

He closes the window leaving his prayer to the wind.

The Second peers through the windowpane and reminds himself of the good that has happened. There is food and soon they will have a surplus. This is because many humans toil in the hydroponics farms and this will keep the food supply abundant. Others do heavy labor. This is what the colony really needed more individuals to work. Cheap labor that is the solution, Vlisv Slo smiles and chuckles for finally the Far Colonies will survive. If only he can keep Ol'klasvs and the different commanders from ruining it all.

Vlisv Slo casts a nervous glance at the window fearful that the coming snow will bring. Snow could cause the humans to grow fearful and bring new problems. Now this Christmas thing, what is Christmas? Well whatever it is, it is keeping the humans quiet and hopefully not plotting trouble especially now that the weather grows colder. He would hate to lose his cheap labor. Christmas, Ol'klasvs and civilians, it makes his head hurt. Vlisv Slo turns from the window and the wind.

The Wind, Vystinerk, & VadsaSio

The wind sweeps northward and as though scooped up by the invisible hand of the Vystinerk it strikes out to the eternal void. The Vystinerk is an ancient race. If they once possessed a body, it has long been forgotten. They no longer seek physical contact but still have a deep desire to nurture and protect that which they feel is theirs. The wind is now a warm breathe, soft to the touch as it wraps slowly around the Vystinerk. It caresses that which is left of their corporeal being. That which is now the Vystinerk, forms a circle that is meant to represent the Breathe and Light of Life.

Older is the Breathe and Light of Life than the explosion that forced the universe to form. It will continue on when the universe implodes upon itself to begin life anew as it has eternally. The Vystinerk wish only to become part of the Breathe and Light of Life this is their goal and that which they work towards steadily.

VadsaSio, is the name it uses when the being speaks to the little ones, the ones called the Suba. The Suba, the little children created by the Vystinerk when they thought themselves gods and created life. VadsaSio's inner being stirs with the wind as the being feels its tentative caress. VadsaSio and the other Vystinerk are as one. The wind whispers and the Vystinerk listen. The Vystinerk regards the feel of the world the wind has come from and those that subsist upon the soil. Always searching, are the Vystinerk for new caretakers for the gentle Suba.

It now falls to VadsaSio to contemplate where the wind has come from and what it may mean for the Suba. There is now the unspoken question before the Vystinerk. Will these the wind brings be the ones to care and protect or do Vystinerk search on? They can feel and taste the two aggressive species both capable of great brutality, but the taste of the wind promises other things as well. There is a possibility at last, strong enough to defend and capable of caring, but so much hostility is on the wind. It is an undecided thing as the Vystinerk are not gods they know only what they can feel upon the eternal wind that the Breathe and Light of Life sends to them. They cannot know the current state of these two species.

VadsaSio whispers softly to the wind and sends it back to its place of origin. Instantly obedient the wind leaves. Across an enormous gulf of stars and around the amber sun, it joins its brother wind. Call it magic or science it weaves back and searches for answers. The wind ancient for this world that is now awake again. The wind tastes the soil, this world rejoices in the water that has returned to it returning life to grow in its soil.

In the dark still hours before midnight, the wind returns to where it has recently left, through small cracks it makes its entrance and touches everything. The little wind returns to itself intertwining sister and brother wind as it blends energies and the feelings that it has brought back. Like a spellweaver of ancient tales, it moves on feeling and learning as it goes. The children sense the magic and the wonder. They give themselves freely in their sleep and smile as the wind brings them good tidings. The wind moves on. . .

A woman sits stringing what appear to be colored balls of dried mud another younger one helps her. They laugh they sing in alien voice about, dashing through the snow.

Another, a young man stands at the window his eyes transfixed on nothing. He shivers as the small wind touches him tasting that which is his light.

Others it touches. These are different but not to the wind, they are all the same in everyway to the wind, there are no differences. These children also are in awe as well and one giggles in her sleep with the stories the wind brings. Older ones tend their young and go about their tasks.

The wind finds the man with the pockmarked face sitting with his head down resting on his hands. Worry, worry it tastes. The wind blows on and touches all.

Finally, it comes to the man with the white eye. Here the wind rests like the warm breath of a lover upon the man. Deep the wind searches within him and again it returns to the Vystinerk, to VadsaSio.

Now must come a time of weighing the worth of what they do and if they have the right. All is for the Suba and they must decide. Should they, must they, or leave alone from the meddling of those that are also the sparks of the Breathe and Light of Life. Life outside their circle moves quickly no time to decide at length. The answer must be made now and time runs out for the Suba as the violent Trisafa have ruined the world given to the gentle ones. It falls to VadsaSio to make the decision and find the solution. The Vystinerk will then agree upon and then go forward in action. On the other hand, do they pass on these the wind has found? VadsaSio streaks outside the Vystinerk inner circle like a comet unleashed in the cosmos he wishes not to make a mistake, but no longer can they care properly for the Suba. Decide now he must!

It Begins

Tomas' pale blue eyes shine forth with a light of their own happier than he has been in a long time. All the garbage that the Wong sisters had been able to scrounge had been made into Christmas decorations and the community room is decorated festively.A thin blanket of snow covers the ground and all of their spare time is given now to making toys for the children. Many of the barracks have become little toyshops. Helen's joy and optimistic attitude is contagious. With a little imagination, he sees not garbage but rag dolls and spaceships. There is no need to attempt cars as the children wish for shuttles and motherships. Likely, the little guys will never know what a real car is.

However, there is so much work to do and so little material to work with. There is also less than seven days to finish. With his own workday not to begin until later in the afternoon, he takes the place of another who will begin his shift. Tomas settles down with tools borrowed from the sirians and begins the task of making one toy at a time.

Wind

The wind blows gently and quietly it has come back with a purpose.

Snow

Helen feels the morning wind, as she stands alone in the hydroponics lab. This is where she would spend her life if she could. Helen shivers as the frosty breeze rushes into the warm lab. She watches the sirian botanist enter the lab. She lifts another box and moves it to its required location and when she turns, he stands still with the door open. His hand is held out catching random flakes of snow like ice crystals as the gentle breeze sends them scooting about. He smiles with almost childlike wonder.

Helen picks up the next box. She stops before taking it to its place and feels the touch of wind not the breeze. Helen smiles she imagines that it has a power beyond any she has ever known or any mortal could imagine. It is a different power. Not the astonishing might of an earthquake or storm. No, it is soothing, healing, with the power of life, serenity kind of power. Then suddenly thoughts of love touch her inner spirit as though someone has turned on a light switch. It takes her by surprise a warm glow of love for all people. She surmises it is all of this talk of Christmas and then she gazes at Ol'Grin as he stands watching the flakes swirl about. Helen has taken recently to teasing him and she calls him Old Griny. The way he says his name sounds like it comes from the back of his throat and he makes a smile like expression when he pronounces it. Beside he has no idea what she is talking about, as she has no idea what he is saying.

She places the box in its new location. She is done with this chore and she looks up to see if he wants her to move something else. She has never realized how broad his shoulders were before. In fact, if he had human skin he would be quite handsome. He turns, his teeth sharper than hers but whiter, he still wears the smile. Helen returns his smile and notices he has dimples and she turns from him blushing. "Shut the door you fool!"

He says something she does not understand and he smiles again. She just stands for a moment and then flees out the same door leaving him wondering to what has just happened.

Ol'Klasvs

Ol'klasvs had woken this morning after having slept deeply. He had contracted rahko poisoning in a land battle with the Trisafa over twenty years ago. Now he has spells of seey'khov from a result of the biological weapon. This illness has befallen him four times in these past twenty years leaving him unable to complete his responsibilities for weeks at a time. His age now is a contributing factor in making it harder for him to regain his health. For three months, he allowed himself to be removed from duty. This post on the Far Colonies is now all he is considered capable of doing.

For now, he has thrown his illness off and he is ready to take control. He attended his first staff meeting in several weeks. This had indeed opened his eyes to the kind of individual his Second is and what traitors his staff has become.

Ol'klasvs had given his second Vlisv temporary control of this particular planet as well as its moon colony on Venezula. He has chosen capable officers for the other colonies as well. Ol'klasvs felt certain that Vlisv would carry out his orders, but he had not. The one good thing was that the Trisafa is blocking the transmissions from the home world so at least no one will know of Vlisv Slo's recklessness. Not until he is ready for them to do so. Yes, it was mistake to put Vlisv in command. Ol'klasvs is still seething that his own Second has released the humans from the barracks to roam freely among his people. In addition, Vlisv has further overstepped his authority by allowing their colonists to begin private enterprises. A brief walk of the settlement had put him in a quiet fury. This would all stop immediately. Ol'klasvs raged first at Vlisv Slo and his staff. He kept his temper when the humans attended the next meeting, but he made it plain they were being returned to the barracks and were to be interned and sheltered until the mothership returned for them. Next, he would send out orders to have all private enterprise ended and posted in the settlement. The Leader's law stated that all colonists were to work to one common goal and not deviate from that law. Ol'klasvs will reinstate the edict just as the Leader will destroy the Trisafa.

James Faber

James Faber and two community leaders, Al Poulson and Deon Cummings walk back to their barracks community. They hear the sound of the windmills that provide power for both communities. Al looks back several times obliviously afraid they are being followed and fears for arrest.

Al is a tall graying man with a patch over his eye from an accident that had happened early this morning. A sirian doctor first attended to Al and then there was an impromptu meeting with Vlisv the Second and Commandant Ol'klasvs along with James and Deon. It had not gone well, "I thought our biggest problem for the community today was to have our little Christmas party. Who would think that tomorrow our little community will be taken apart and we are to be returned to the barracks like animals. I wish I knew what those scaly officer's, were saying." Al spits into the thin snow covering and swallows hard his anger.

"This brings up the fact once again that we should learn their language." James says gripping Al's wrist hard even though it was difficult with his crutch.

"I think right now it is good that so few of them know what we are saying. Let's not add to it by them expecting us to speak their language." Deon says as though sobered into reflection. She turns to view the closes windmill, which is making a scraping noise. They begin walking again their gait faster as though to escape the noise of the windmill.

"Deon they have so many now that speak our language and we have none. I think that it's high time we accept the way things are." James is trying hard to broach an unpopular subject.

Al stops and waits for the struggling James as he hobbles along on his crutch. "James no one is ready to do this. Let's wait another few months and see how it goes, besides will it make a difference now? No longer do I entertain thoughts of escape."

James sighs and says mildly, "This is exactly what I expected you to say. I would just love to know what that Second is saying." He touches his companion's arm in hopes that the gesture will speak words he cannot articulate. "He's been in control for a while. He can't like giving it up to old white-eye. Something is going on. Maybe all is not lost."

"Ever notice how much those officer's yak and yak and say so little." Al laughs as he ponders James words.

"They sure are on the formal side aren't they? Not like our keepers who come and watch us so hard. Can barely get those guys to say two words to you, they just grunt and point." Deon then grunts and points at a rock and then to another rock.

They laugh and then the laughter falls into quiet, and Al says. "I don't enjoy the idea of being locked up again. It may be high time we all do revolt and lets face it we aren't going to stop it from happening. I for one am not going to stand back and let them do it to us this time. I fought them last time and I say tonight we make weapons and prepare. I was a resistance leader at home and I'm going out swinging."

"Don't forget so much of our community is made up of children. You truly want to be responsible for what happens to them when a revolt fails?" Deon says with a hard edge to her voice.

"No," Al scowls he wastes no time brooding over consequences. He then whispers, "Do you want to live in a cage for months or years if the enemy line doesn't lift? Perhaps the snakes decide they need a little protein and just eat us anyway. The children first like little tender snacks." Al makes a quick motion as though twisting off the neck of a chicken. "We are just food to them anyway. These people if you can call them that hate us."

Deon shakes her head. Then calmly says, "Listen carefully. It is hard but we must contain ourselves and gather our people up. Tonight we shall have a meeting and we must tell them." Deon is short and stout. Her legs carry her with determination. She scratches her short gray hair, "It is going to be worse. I agree with you Al, this is trouble that none of us can stop but it won't help to encourage them."

James becomes quiet hardened by terrible resolve to save the humans living in this strange place he steadies his shaken nerves. The wind passes him by and the whir, whir sound begins to slow. Finally, as they near the first barracks he says, "We must do our best, try not to rattle anyone till the meeting tonight. We have no choice now but see the matter through. We'll make it late after the children are in bed. Quietly tell the other community leaders. Tell Sheryl she'll be good at getting the word out quietly." There is nothing else to be said. Each becomes preoccupied with their thoughts.

Dream

Again the wind blows and races until in finds an entrance and it stops unnaturally by the old man with one white eye staring at the ceiling his thoughts clear. The thoughts are turbulent and angry about how the man will return things back to the way they should be tomorrow morning. The wind moves and touches him and then departs. Ol'klasvs eyes stare straight ahead unblinking. For a moment, a strange light shines from his eyes and then they close slowly. Ol'klasvs smiles, "Yes." He nods his head he will sleep for now. He will sleep and dream of home away from these hated colonies. Away from that idiot, Vlisv and the animals called humans.

Power Play

Vlisv sits at his desk looking outside to what is left of the afternoon. Now he thinks how some things never change. The Commandant has sent word that when the mothership arrives he will find himself at the very least demoted. Of course, Ol'klasvs can do nothing but demote him officially for now. In fact, Ol'klasvs is likely, not ready to let the Leader know what has happened until he feels he has returned things back to normal.

However, if the transmissions are blocked much longer Ol'klasvs will no longer need official permission. He will need only an agreement with the other ranking officers on this side of the Trisafa line. Ol'klasvs had looked him in the eye and told him that he looks forward to his court martial and possible execution. Vlisv alternates now between the supposed calm of the soldier facing his fate and great fear of facing the last great unknown. He smiles was it not his grandfather that said true bravery is confrontation of fear. Fear should be mastered. It is not bravery when there is an absence of fear inside of you. No fear. No bravery. He feels plenty of fear so he must obviously be very brave to sit her so calmly. Vlisv smiles with the irony of it all. "When caught look for the likely choice and if a good opportunity presents itself. Do not wait to use it. What was the old saying?" The Second laughs as he speaks aloud to himself, "There is nothing to lose but life when you stand at death's door. You're not dead till your dead."

Vlisv walks to the window and stands after so many days the wind is gone and the afternoon sun prepares to paint a sunset. Soon that will turn slowly to gray and the sunset will fade into twilight like his life. He sighs deeply pondering what he may have done differently. The door bursts open and the doctor waves madly to him. "What is happening?" Vlisv asks puzzled and somewhat disturbed for the interruption.

"You must hurry and make it known immediately that you are in command or the rabble will vie for power. Control the military here and you control all of the Far Colonies but move now." The doctor says disgust blunting his normally cautious nature. Vlisv stares hard at the doctor whose face is intense and bright green color flushing his cheekbones.

"The Commandant is dead." Vlisv asks his voice flat and he finds himself surprised at the lack of emotion his tone carries.

The doctor ambles over to stand before Vlisv, "No better Vlisv. He lives, but he is in a coma with seey'khov, I have never seen it this bad. His age makes it difficult, and there is no doubt to his illness. I have sent the guard to shall we say spread the word to those that are required, but it will not be long. Come along," he says impatiently as Vlisv stands unmoving. "Be somewhat livelier unless you are looking to truly be dead by a rival's hand."

"Should I be so reckless to take control of the colonies when I have been ordered to my room? I am after all under guard."

The doctor shrugs as his large lips spread into a wide grin. "Vlisv you are free for now and no matter how chancy a scheme this is, I and others will follow. The window for this is but little and we are lucky now in a blink of an eye we will not be so fortunate."

"I should not take my punishment good doctor with gentle grace and wait for the outcome?" Vlisv smirks for he cannot help himself and he throws a sidelong glance at the doctor and smiles. The fates have indeed been kind he thinks. Time to move is now.

Vlisv and the doctor, speed from the room sliding across the smooth tiled floor as they near the command room. He is met by two-dozen red and black clad shock troopers formed in a neat pair of lines down the hall. Vlisv looks around, hesitatingly for a moment. He assesses the situation and begins his takeover of the colonies. "As Second it is my responsibility to take over the Commandants tasks during this time of distress." Vlisv keeps the tone of his words as unemotional as he can. However, his heart is ready to fly from his chest and haste is uttermost to us all. "We of course have those that do not understand the chain of command. I have tasks that must be taken care of and dealt with immediately."

Vlisv paces in front of the troopers. He then stops in front of two of them making sure that his bearing appears nerveless to the troopers. "Take men and place under house arrest, Master of Colonial Security Seeyelno and Secretary Diryapev. Also, be sure that they are relieved of any weaponry."

The two men nod curtly and each selects three others to go with them.

The Second then stops in front of two other troopers, "You speak the human language English do you not?"

The trooper Vilybov was known on Earth as Billy Bob jerks himself up straighter, "Yes, sir."

"Go immediately and bring the human community leaders to me." As the men began to leave Vlisv, adds quickly, "Tell them that there shall be Christmas and that the Commandant sleeps."

The trooper Vilybov salutes and leaves with the other trooper to the barracks where the humans are kept. Vlisv continues up and down the line-selecting troopers for different assignments. When finished he takes a deep breathe as he turns officers and sirian community leaders who have been rousted and brought here by the troopers begin to file into the meeting room. Now he meets with what is now his council. A new world needs a true beginning.

Bargain

James Faber sits in a chair his homemade crutch is sitting across his lap an expression of an undisguised disgust on his face. He can feel the ache in his missing leg and he reminds himself not to reach out with his missing arm to massage it. The accident is replayed in his mind quickly like lightening flashing in the dark. His grip tightens on his crutch as his mind sees the other car first as it swerves away from him and then loses control coming straight at him to late to do anything. James watches the spinning lighted scenery in the inky dark. Bits of bright shiny mirror sparkle and catch his eye thrown before him in slow motion. The squeal of brakes and crashing and squeaking sounds of metal and then nothing. Yes, nothing he looks to where his missing arm should be. He sniffs in loathing this should be the least of his problems. He has no idea what is going on now. The odd cryptic message about Christmas though holds promise or on the other hand holds a lie. He waits as he listens to sound of pounding feet on the other side of the closed door and then silence.

Time drags as the community leaders wait to find out what new development has taken place in the past few hours. Al paces nervously back and forth across the floor occasionally making humph noises. Marie snaps at him to sit down he is making everyone nervous. Marie although young, is a very clever and intelligent young woman and it does not hurt that she is a beauty. Patience though is an ability that she is still working to perfect. James smiles a bit enjoying her irritation with Al. Deon reaches out an arm to her and the young woman sits saying no more.

Finally, the Second arrives as well as his interpreter and a few others. The Second sits and then those standing take places. James is asked if all of the community leaders are now in attendance. With weary resignation in his voice, he replies that they are. The Second speaks and what he says is repeated in English.

The Second, "Yes I am sorry that there was a little disagreement this morning." He makes a gesture meant to show sympathy towards them.

James keeps himself from rolling his eyes and stares almost as if he were uninterested in the very proceeding, which will have such a great affect on his life. Some of the others though have not heard and voice concern until Al tells them what happened this morning.

After the anxiety has abetted some Vlisv continues. "I want you all to know that all is well and to not spread discontentment amongst yourselves. I understand your anxiety, but not worry yourselves and above all do not allow your people to become unsettled. Or all of the progress made thus far and in the future will be for nothing." Vlisv spreads his hands as to encompass them all. "We have had a, a bit of change in our positions here. In two days, I may be able to extend more rights towards your group. I ask that you keep your people in line. I will in return continue to keep things as they are. I am saying to you to be patient for a bit longer and you will be rewarded with more freedom. You know the other recourse." He spreads his hands apart to emphasize what he is saying, "surely I need say nothing more to you. I believe that you can carry out this assignment your way, the way you are most comfortable about doing things."

The leaders say nothing. Each keeps to his thoughts remembering the past. Those that had made trouble in the beginning and are no longer counted with the living. James though sits with an amused expression on his face waiting to find what the next trick would be from Vlisv's bag of tricks.

"You may leave," The Second stands up and leaves.

For James it is a long slow walk back for not much information and he knows he must whip up some sort of enthusiasm for his people. For the moment no one but they the community leaders know how close they came to losing what little freedom they have and for now that must be enough. Hope of course that they have not been lied to.

Accord

Vlisv has made many arrangements in the past two and a half days. He must strengthen what he has so that the very thought of someone else at this junction will be felt by most to be incomprehensible. Today he finishes the schedules prepared the night before by Sum'n Wal, Vlisv has a surprise for his humans. Vlisv knows that they care little for him, but they will support him. They have kept their bargain and he must repay their support. In turn, it may come to benefit the settlement. This surprise has been at the back of his mind for his own people who are also in need of something to lift their spirits. This treat may later gather him needed support when needed by both his people and the humans. Of course, to do this he must bend his direct orders even further as though a takeover of the Commandant's position has not been a bending of direct orders. He watches three of the community leaders take their places at the large dark table.

In front of Vlisv though is a screen and the English words are translated into Sirian. As of yet Vlisv knows that the humans have not found that the program has been in place for nearly three months. Nor do they know that these meetings could be held without the use of interpreters for either of them. Vlisv believes as Ol'klasvs that the voice is more important than the computer and the same language brings singularity. The humans need to accept the Sirian language and accept the inevitable. Why it has become so urgent to him is a mystery even to him though. He never cared before if they spoke his language. However, now it is extremely important. Before the change of command, he felt fine if they learned just enough Sirian to be able to do their work. After all, they have theirs and his people have their language and customs. Humans are transient not permanent residents. Now in these past few days, his thoughts seem a bit different to him. Not really different or new, just not something he was obliged to think over much. Ever since Ol'klasvs went into his deep slumber has a new urgency come to him about the humans, what to do with the humans. It is though someone opened a book, he cannot quite see the words but they are there nonetheless. His thoughts are interrupted as James comes to take his place at the table. Thump, thump as he walks into the room with his crutch and then to the chair and he makes every attempt to make a nuisance of himself.

One colony warrior and a shock trooper move closer to the Second. The tall, rangy colony warrior is dressed in the black and gray uniform of the colony. He stands quietly next to the shock trooper Vilybov. These colony warriors for the most part have been born on the colonies or brought while children and have been excused from serving in the Leaders military. He stands unmoving while Vilybov's eyes narrow at the sight of the humans and they remain this way until Vlisv needs him to interpret for him.

The Second's eyes are bright. His red uniform has been altered to fit better and his pants are tucked into freshly shined calf-high black boots. "I have done some research into the matter of Christmas. It is important to give your people something to look forward to and allow for a thought of better times. I also understand this spirit of giving. We are not an evil people and it was never our intention to have people like you here. You must understand we have had no idea what to do with you."

The community leaders make little faces and barely hide their resentment. Vlisv also fights the sneer that plays at his lips, "A scientific ship, the Baidin was heavily damaged escaping the Trisafa. It was felt that it would be better if it was actually brought and landed here on the colony itself."

James interrupts the Second and speaks plainly, for he is tired of all of the unfathomable happenings that the sirians seem to be so fond of investing so much time. "This means what to us without all of the fancy double talk. Just keep it simple for a change."

"It means Christmas to us all." Vlisv says.

Although it is plain to most that James dislikes it, Vlisv continues in the same line as usual, the more words are better approach as James thinks of it.

"Today will be the first day of the first year of our new mutual cooperation and sharing. We shall all benefit . . ." The Second stops as again James interrupts.

"I think that today we are all short of patience and you talk a lot of wordssss that I can't possibly understand and then that guy," James points to Vilybov, "Spits out the words in English. Just come to the point without it taking all day!"

Vilybov becomes ridged. However, he translates James words to Vlisv.

Instead, Vlisv smiles almost radiantly. He regards the humans and then locks eyes with James. "I have a list of individuals that will be brought to the ship Baidin. A few of these individuals will be in charge of the, Christmas Festivities and the others to do other work. If that will meet with all of your approval of course, Hesss Buiy will go over the plans with you." Vlisv inclines his head and the technical worker who had once been posted to Earth comes up and motions for the community leaders to follow him. "Come and follow," Hesss says.

"James." Vlisv smiles to him, and Vilybov remains by the Seconds side.

James sighs and sits again, "What do you want with me? Remember I am the cripple that can't work."

Vlisv does not bother to hide his sneer. "We both know that one's body does not need to be whole when the mind is sharp and quick. I am offering your people more but it will not be overnight. It will take some one with your expertise and fine tuned abilities to see the larger picture."

Now it is James Faber's turn to sneer, "Yea, right!"

"I have little love for the prospect of facing you across the negotiating table, but I know that you are the one looked to by your people. I am not trying to flatter you. I do not have time to flatter you. Nor do you have the time to become so suddenly obstinate. Let us not make minor matters into major battles. There may come a time for that sort of childishness, but it is not now. Your peoples' position amongst mine is precarious at best. If you have any suggestions perhaps, you should make them now. Otherwise it would be good if you hold your tongue."

James throws his head back and laughs. "Leave it to a sirian to take a hundred words to say what can be said in half." James although sitting manages to make an exaggerated bow, "Oh and yea I would say your position may be precarious at best."

Vlisv seems to take no notice of James mocking attitude, "I am thinking that we begin some sort of classes for some of your younger members in the Sirian language. Your small children will shortly begin lessons as well. I imagine they will learn somewhat faster. Also, as the first group progresses we will begin another group. In each group, a community leader will be in attendance learning along with each group and they must show themselves as a good example. You will be the first community leader. What do you think of this plan?"

James takes two fingers and holds his tongue as he speaks in a garbled manner, "I don thank I ha the tongue or it." He releases his tongue, "I get the feeling you have a whole lot larger alphabet than we do and I'm too old to be learning a new language, besides you use too many es's."

Vlisv chooses to say nothing for a long while allowing the silence to grow long between them and Vilybov becomes edgy. The Second waits for James to regret what he has said. Finally he speaks, "We shall also need to speak of the latest request for warmer clothing and medical supplies. I think that this is a good idea and have already sent the request on. When you arrive to the barracks tonight, you will find many of the first of these goods there already. Further, you know that we have your best interests at heart. When the Trisafa made their first raid, we showed you the safe room. There is no need to thank the colony for any of these gifts."

James looks openly amazed and then his expression changes to one of irritation. "I won't be thanking the colony for the lovely treatment we have been given these past months either. Nor that the safe room is in better condition than the barracks."

Vlisv replies only with an ingratiating smile. "In two days time you will begin the language lessons and I expect you to choose those that you believe will excel in this exercise. I doubt your extreme resistance to this is true, I imagine that you also know that this must be done if your people are to gain any kind of acceptance here. Language has and will always be the great barrier or knowledge of the gateway to mutual understanding."

The doctor enters the room, "And now James you will be sent with our doctor for a fitting. I wish to see you not hobble I find it tiring."

"I have never enjoyed running around on a fake leg," James snarls.

Vlisv sighs, "Then I shall be forced to talk and you to listen."

It takes a few moments but James is up from the chair and then follows the doctor.

Now Vlisv can only hope that he chose the right individual or chaos will surely follow.

The Baidin

The Baidin is a treasure trove for both sirian and human colonist. In the last, few days' sirian metalworkers have taken apart walls. The metal is now being moved away by the humans. A pile outside is sorted into size and other qualities to be used elsewhere. Next boxes made of foamy plastic like material is brought by a shuttle and they are moved out to be filled. Both human and sirian colonists stand waiting to pack their own shuttles. A third shuttle lands near the Baidin. Helen has been assigned to move containers from off of shelves and pack them carefully to be moved to the hydroponics lab. She finds the labels are written in Sirian and English. They are plants and seeds and she takes them out cautiously to the shuttle and finds herself shaking in anticipation.

Helen watches as someone comes out with a box. It is clearly marked as a VCR. The woman carrying it is quite excited. For the children it will be great treat if they can figure out how to make a compatible connection for power. She watches TV's and other devices being brought out. She can only wonder what the sirian's thought of the technological advances of humans.

The sirians also carry out what must be luxury goods for them as well.

Helen watches as the Baidin is being stripped. With some regret, she turns back to her work. She must make it known to the sirians that she can do the work with the Earth plants. The colonists must understand that many of their group is capable of more than moving boxes. In fact, they are all colonists now. Her thoughts are interrupted by a scream and she freezes, the worst must have happened. Then there is laughter.

Someone is screaming, "Food, cans and cans of it." Helen hurries along with others as a few people walk out carrying boxes of food. It is quite a find. The humans look expectantly at the sirian technician who looks at a list and the human group grows quiet. Nervous anticipation fills the air. Finally, he nods his head and says yes it is theirs.

The wind moves Helen's hair and she closes her eyes, it is as if someone has whispered in her ear. 'Are you happy?' She answers aloud, "Yes."

Christmas

The celebration is in full swing. The sirians have sent down more food and there is a feast if not a grand one. There is more food than they have seen at one sitting in a long time. The evening before the children had the great delight of the jolly Far Colonies Santa handing out gifts in his nice gray and black colony uniform. Al was allowed to borrow an old uniform and they gave up the notion of the traditional Santa. Al marked his face with charcoal in a replica of sirian scales. He was a huge success with the children who wanted to know if he would see the sirian children as well. Many children asked if he was Santa Claus of the North Pole or half-human and half-sirian. Al told them he was indeed half-sirian and that there were many Santa's. He and his brother Kris and many other brothers and sisters were spread out amongst the stars spreading joy to all little children. The younger children even though they may have known Al well seemed to be pulled into the fantasy that he was Far Colonies Santa. The older ones for the most part had the good grace to remain quiet.

This afternoon they run around among the adults with their new toys. The general spirit of all is high.

James stands with his family on his new leg so unlike his prosthetic leg of home. Although he cannot feel it when the child steps on his toes, he does feel something in his mind. It is not pain so to speak just a whisper that something is wrong with his leg. He is told to expect more phantom feeling as time goes by. His arm is taking more time to get used to and it hangs limp at his side and is a bit irritating it feels like it is asleep. James can feel the numbness but it is as if it is waking with little pins dancing all over it.

"I wish I had been there when you gave it to pock face," Pat smiles and looks up at her father in admiration.

Lily ignores Pat's remark, "I think that things are going to be okay. I didn't at first but now I know that things are changing."

James shakes his head, "It's going to get worse again before it gets better. For the record I didn't give it to pock face and I would be careful about not saying it around any of the snakes that speak English."

Pat glances over her shoulder at her brother and they exchange looks and then back to her father. "I thought you said not to call them names."

Tomas laughs, "Caught in your own directives father."

James begins to comment but thinks better of it as Lily's blue eyes narrow.

"I can't believe I was such an ass, one of the things I wanted for the community was for us to learn the Sirian language."

"Father you wanted it to be the community that made the decision and once again it is left to the sirians. Frankly I am tired of it." Tomas sets his jaw.

"I understand Tomas, but you do what you can to survive. This is our world now and we must accept that, all of us including you." Then James chuckles. "Me, too I guess."

Tomas shrugs with no humor.

Becca Wong comes with glasses of something with an orange taste to drink, "It is for the Christmas toast."

As everyone gathers around it is called for James to give a toast.

"My friends, we and our friends here and in the other large barrack rooms are gathering in Christmas spirit. For those humans on other colonies who have woken to find they have been granted their own holiday. Let us first raise our glasses to our friends everywhere. As I am sure, they do for us in friendship. Next to each other gathered in this room. Let us remember Earth and embrace our new home. This Christmas has been made merry by our pulling together first as humans, family, friends and last community, to the thousands of us spread in our community. To the sirian's who have been touched by the spirit of man." There are some chuckles, mixed with the sounds of anger. "Let us remember this first Christmas together on our new home world. May there be joy awaiting us around every corner, and may Gods angels gather and protect his children. Merry Christmas to all," They then raise their glasses and Merry Christmas is heard throughout the room.

For This Is Not The End

The wind returns to the Vystinerk and to VadsaSio. . . No, it is not finished he tells the wind it only begins.

21