I don't own As Told by Ginger. Viacom and Klasky-Csupo do. But that doesn't stop me from writing this fan-fiction which has no intention whatsoever of stomping on any copyrights. Leave a review if you want. 17 October 2004.
Chapter 2: Ginger Meets the Alien
Reluctantly, Ginger followed Courtney toward the landed alien spacecraft. Ginger didn't what was more amazing. That an alien spaceship had landed just outside of her hometown. Or that Courtney was taking it so well. It was almost like she had been through this before. But that couldn't so. When could she possibly had have met an extra-terrestrial? Though Ginger had to admit that there wasn't a whole lot that she knew about Courtney.
"Courtney," she ventured. "How did you come across this ship?"
Courtney didn't answer. She just went to the hatch and knocked. When she had finished, a voice came from somewhere that Ginger couldn't locate, "Is that you, Courtney?" Ginger could have sworn that she heard that voice somewhere before.
"Yes, Momma, it's me. With Ginger, like you asked."
"Courtney, I asked for Ginger's mother, not Ginger herself."
"Oh, pooh. I never listen."
Ginger wisely kept her mouth kept shut.
"Oh, never mind, Courtney." The hatch popped open. "Just send Ginger in while you go fetch Mrs. Lois Foutley." So Ginger wasn't going to be the one who was going to her mother.
"Okay, Momma." She turned to Ginger. "You can go in now." She turned and left the clearing.
Ginger swallowed. The open hatch looked like a gaping maw, laying in wait to eat her. But she had no choice. She had to go in. She stepped over the bottom of the hatch and into the ship. Into the jaws of the beast.
There was no turning back now.
On the other side of the hatchway was a long tubular tunnel that ended with another circular hatch some about fifty feet away. She headed toward the door with a burning question smoldering in her mind.
What was Courtney's mom doing on a flying saucer? Wasn't that the sort of thing that only aliens of another planet had. Carls should see this, she tought before remembering that she had promised not to tell him. Without thinking. While she wasn't too sure that she would definitively would promised to keep silent after reflecting upon it, she was sure that would prepared her for the consequences. She had had no desire to blab Courtney's secret... until she had seen the flying saucer.
The greenish material that she was stepping on had no give, that is it didn't squish when she stepped on it. It didn't look like metal, but what else would a spaceship be made out of? But she didn't much about alien spacecraft.
She reached the hatch out far end of the tunnel and waited, expecting that the door would open for her. After a half a minute of that waiting, she knocked. A second later, it opened for her. Claire Gripling was on the other side. "Sorry it took me so long to open the hatch. I've busy with Hank."
Hank? "Didn't hear my knocking, Mrs. Gripling?"
"Knocking? What knocking?"
"Never mind. What's going on?"
Mrs. Gripling looked into the chamber behind her. It was a sphere-shaped chamber with an apparatus suspended in the center by a cross of catwalks. The apparatus had something alive in it. It looked sort of like a human being, but it clearly wasn't. It was gray, naked and had a big, bulbous head with black, almond-shaped eyes and a slit-like mouth. It also had a splint of one its arms.
"It's an alien," Ginger breathed.
"He's an alien, Dear," Mrs. Gripling corrected. "And he's badly hurt. If my idiot daughter had gotten here with your mother, we would be treating him already." Mrs. Gripling must been extremely worried if she had called her daughter an idiot. "Follow me and meet your first extraterrestrial." She turned and went down the catwalk.
Ginger, on the hand, hesitated. She had never met an alien and had no idea what they were like. They could have dangerous for all she knew. And if she stayed put, she could pretend that was some kid in a gray alien suit.
"Come on, Ginger. He isn't going to bite."
Still Ginger hesitated.
She's quite right, you know, a weak voice said in Ginger's head. Unlike you humans' mouths, ours are incapable of biting anything. The voice sounded tired yet amused.
What the...?
Mrs. Gripling had reached the alien and looked back to Ginger. "Oh, I forget to mention that out little visitor is telepathic."
But I can't read your mind, no matter how much I try. So don't worry about that. Ginger could see that the alien was now looking at her.
"Oh... I wasn't worried about that." Ginger laughed a little. "I was just surprised, that's all." She noticed that she was taking this whole visitor from another planet thing in stride. Ginger was amazed. She had figured that meeting an extra-terrestrial would have been a bigger deal. When she had thought about it at all.
She started toward the alien in the center of the fifteen-yard diameter chamber. "So where's it hurt, Hank?"
She felt a sigh in the back of her head. My name isn't Hank. I don't know why Claire calls me that. Despite his expressionless face, the alien shot a look of annoyance at Mrs. Gripling. My name is actually Nomar. He held his left hand in greeting. May your friends hold fast to you.
Ginger had reached the dais and held her left hand. "May your friends hold fast to you."
Nomar sighed. I don't have any friends, Ginger. Not since I was banished for a crime that surely didn't merit banishment. I was allowed no more contact with any of my people. He snorted. Unless they too were banished. How would the Governing Council know? He snorted a second time. But to answer your question, Ginger. I think my arm is broken in two places, and I believe that is some internal bleeding in my stomach.
"But my Mom is a human nurse. How is supposed to help you?"
I don't know, but I sense that I can trust her.
"But I you said that you couldn't read minds."
Nomar projected warmth. I can't. It's just something in the air.
"You mean you don't know how you're doing it?"
Do you know how you see? or hear? or taste? Ginger blushed and looked away. It's like that with me. Nobody truly understand how they work.
Mrs. Gripling frowned. "I suppose that's true," she murmured.
"You can hear him, Mrs. Gripling?"
"Of course." Of course. Ginger was hit by both those things at the same time.
Everyone in range picks up my broadcasts. There are no private thoughts among my people.
"Unless they're in a room alone."
It would have to be a pretty big room. Somehow Nomar smiled.
"So how far is the range?"
A hundred miles. Ginger whistled. Unless they're behind a special lining like the one this ship is made of.
"So if you were to leave this ship and say something..."
The world would know that I was here.