ERNIE 073

by Akktri

An autobiography of a Xenomorph.

102. Chapter 102: Spirits In Prison

12/11/23: I previously misunderstood the criticism I received for this Alien 3 themed section of Ernie's adventure. Although the "Christian space alien" aspect is still unpopular with some readers, it came to my attention that Alien 3 wasn't exactly the most popular installment of the franchise. (Spoilers) A lot of people don't like what happened to Newt (and Ripley), and what I wrote wasn't much better. The poor kid deserved a happier ending than she got.

Introducing my own weird alien characters to the Alien 3 scenario didn't help, the whole plot doesn't make a lot of sense, if you think about it. In retrospect, the critics were right about the prison mission plot being a bad story, so I'm squishing chapters together to make room for a better plot.

It would have been easier to just move the chapters around, but since doesn't allow me a way to easily do that, I've resorted to shoving half a novel into a couple chapters so I can re-use the chapter placeholder.

Since I have squished the chapters together, you might need to use that "find on page" tool and do a search for brackets ([000])" to avoid losing your place. If you don't like the prison mission story, just skip to the newest chapter I've just recently added. I did all this condensing and compressing for a reason.

Also, sorry about the continuity errors. I don't intend to revise the Alien 3 plot again, except to recyle it into something else.

This is the author's note I left six years ago. I guess it might be helpful:

11/19/18: Note to all readers: I originally wrote the Ernie series to introduce Abreyas to the world, and to see if there's a market for them, as well as a market for stories about Christian aliens.

If you don't like it, you have two options: Skip ahead to Becky 075, which bypasses the whole Fiorina 161 incident and Abreyas all together, or read Ellie 074, which only mentions the Fiorina story in passing.

Also, note the alternate plot chapter entitled "Peacekeeper", where Ernie hangs around Ripley during the big Power Loader battle.

If you don't like stories about Christian space aliens (hey- why did you read this far?) , you can always read secular books like Dangerous Prey by Scott Sigler, told from the alien's POV, "Without all that annoying religion in it". The Christian angle is pretty much the only thing that makes Ernie unique.

For those who are a little more open minded about the whole concept, please continue reading.

[0000]

I didn't answer Grandmother's question. Instead I asked the human, "Are you sure you and Newt will be able to exit here safely? Without my assistance?"

Ripley chambered her weapon. "I can do without your help. Just take my advice: Get out of here while you still can."

It was the hardest decision I have ever made. Although I loved Newt, I didn't want to murder my own grandmother. Ripley was very protective of Newt, and would probably kill Grandmother anyway. No matter who won, someone I loved was going to die, and my heart couldn't handle being there when it happened.

I had nightmares about that woman. I trusted she would get the job done, no matter the cost. And I, well, I would just be the last of my species.

Although I had little hope for my future, I knew I needed to be out of the blast area when Ripley and Newt took off, or I'd pop like a microwaved hot dog.

[0001]

I retreated further. "I'm sorry, Grandmother."

As I backed down the tunnel, I saw Ellen firing grenade shot into Grandmother's egg sac. The explosive lit up her interior like a strange light bulb, placental ooze gushing out onto the floor.

Deciding to heed the woman's advice, I turned and ran.

It was hard to run. My leg hurt, my stomach hurt, and I was bleeding.

Still, I didn't lay down and die. If the Lord wanted to take me, he would have done so already.

I could only hope and pray for a peaceful resolution for both Ss'sik'chtokiwij and humans.

As I entered a neighboring cavern, I heard a rumble. Everything around me shook. Dirt and rocks rained down from the ceiling.

Upon glancing back, I witnessed things exploding, family members shrieking and dying as shrapnel ripped apart their exoskeletons.

It seemed Ripley had set up timed explosives all over Grandmother's home, and they were going off.

I heard alarms sounding, and a booming voice saying, "All personnel must evacuate immediately. You have fifteen minutes to reach minimum safe distance."

This voice would end up repeating itself several times in the space of a minute.

Large pieces of cavern collapsed around me, the entrance to the egg chamber filling up with so many rocks and pieces of spaceship debris that I couldn't go back, even if I wanted to.

A muffled voice told me that I now had twelve minutes to reach minimum safe distance.

I kept going.

After awhile, I lost track of where I was. It was dark, all the caverns looked alike, and nobody appeared to have been brave enough to go out there and leave their scents.

I couldn't hear the countdown, either.

Hoping this was a good sign, I slowed my progress, attempting to use my senses to appreciate whatever natural rock formations I could perceive in the inky darkness.

All of a sudden, the cave got really light, and a fierce wind blew upon me, laden with rocks, gravel, and pieces of Grandmother's house.

The wind proved to be strong enough to throw me off my feet.

I flew backwards through the cavern, slammed into a wall, and dropped through a crevice into a yawning chasm.

I shrieked as I descended into darkness.

I tumbled for what felt like miles, landing painfully on an overhanging rock shelf.

The fall didn't kill me, but it was enough to fill my entire body with searing pain.

I couldn't move. I could barely breathe.

I stopped fighting, letting the darkness envelop me.

After what seemed like an eternity, consciousness returned to me.

I found myself in a tall white room with wide glass windows draped in gauzy curtains. Someone had placed me in a four poster bed, covering me with satin sheets, a lovely quilt depicting animals and humans and Ss'sik'chtokiwij.

I stared with bewilderment at the polished oak dressers, night stands, and the little table bearing pitchers and cups.

I got up and poured myself a glass. It looked like pink lemonade, but smelled of ammonia. It refreshed me immediately.

I stepped out on a balcony, taking in the sights, growing more and more puzzled.

Rivendell, I thought. It looks exactly like Rivendell from the Lord of the Rings stories.

A village of pointy white structures, delicately wrought like icing on an elaborate cake, with twirling spires, spreading archways, all surrounded by trees and over lovely plants, poised above a giant waterfall. The banners all had crosses on them.

Had I died, or was this only a dream?

I returned to the bedroom, only to find a young woman refilling my pitcher.

Long flowing blonde hair, a pleasantly round face, and a button nose. She wore a gray jumpsuit, like a worker at the base.

In such a lavish setting, her outfit made no sense, but I guess someone was trying to make me feel at home.

"Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik," the woman cried with delight. "You're awake!"

And then I recognized her.

The face, the voice, the scent, even the outfit. "Sarah?"

"I am called Sarah the Eldest, or Sarah the Elvish when my friends are feeling jaunty. But yes. I am a Sarah from the DAMBALLAH project. I have heard much about you. I am very pleased to make your acquaintance."

She gave me a hug, and when I did, I noticed that the tips of her ears were slightly pointed.

"Are you really an elf?"

She chuckled. "No, but it is easy enough to make your ears pointed in this place."

"Are there other Sarahs here?"

"Yes, roughly a hundred in total, including Sarah the Hansen and Maria the Ss'sik'chtokiwij. But come, let me show you."

She led me out an elegantly arched doorway, to an even more elegant looking vaulted colonnade.

"Mother!" I heard a voice cry.

A small larva with a red and green Christmas scarf around her neck came running up to me.

"Shauqauzjarruba!" I sobbed, picking her up. "Shauqauzjarruba! My dear daughter!"

She purred and rubbed against me. "They have taught me about Esther. I am sorry I rejected that name. It is a very beautiful one. Everyone knows me by that here."

I cried and held her some more.

She wiggled free from my grip. "Come, you are missing the feast."

She ran down the colonnade in such a way that I had to run after her to keep up, crying and laughing with joy. It was okay, because I felt no pain.

We arrived at an enormous banquet hall with a long table overlooking the grand village, with large statues towering over us, statues of Jesus and the apostles.

From end to end of this banquet table, I saw the faces of friends, Ss'sik'chtokiwij and human alike, all happily eating and drinking and speaking to each other like friends.

The banquet was tremendous, a mountain of the most delicious meats and delicacies I had ever laid eyes upon.

"Am I in heaven?" I asked Sarah the Elvish.

She smiled. "How could it not be?"

"Am I dead?"

"I don't know. You are resting right now. You will have to ask the Master if it is your time to awake, or continue on sleeping until you are awakened on the last day."

Sarah the Elder gestured to the spread. "Please. Take a seat. You are just in time for The Feast."

The bible says not to take the place of honor at a feast, or suffer the humiliation of being sent down to the end, so I seated myself at an open chair near the back, between non-possessed Noah, Sydjea, Mother and Hissandra.

Mother offered me a wet glistening orange. "Try this, dear. They are quite delicious."

"Oh no, mother. I have tried the nectar of such and it disagrees with my stomach."

"Nonsense! Nothing at this entire table will ever disagree with your stomach. I have sampled everything."

And so I took the orange, and she was correct. It proved to be both lovely and delicious, and I suffered no ill effects.

"Come up here," a voice called.

The Lord appeared at the head of the table, dressed in robes that could possibly be identified as Elvish, though he didn't have the pointy ears. His hair was longer now, as was his beard, as a Rivendell inhabitant would style it.

I approached the empty seat next to him, staring at it in uncertainty and awe.

"Please, sit next to me this meal."

"Master, how is it that you wish to sit next to me at your great and holy feast? You know as well as I there are great martyrs of the faith, holy men and women who are much more worthy to take the place at your right and left hand."

"That is true. But this is only one course of the great feast, so today you have the seat of honor."

He gestured for me to sit.

I did so, but with great nervousness, especially when Sarah the Elvish pulled up a chair next to me.

"Master, I confess I didn't do a very good job. An entire base filled with innocent people died under my watch. I have failed you."

"You have kept my daughter Rebecca under your loving protection until the day of her rescue."

[0002]

"Daughter?" I stammered. "Oh. You mean `Child of God', correct?"

He nodded, biting a piece off a turkey drumstick.

"It doesn't feel like I've done enough. There were hundreds of people on that base, and I just failed them utterly. All of them."

"Remember that cute little story about the star fishes?"

I nodded.

"You made a difference, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik."

I opened my mouth to speak, but he said, "Belief is also a work, child."

He offered me a chunk of meat that looked suspiciously human.

"Jesus," I said, not as an frivolous oath, but addressing the person. "Is this what I think it is?"

He placed it on a plate before me. "This is my body."

I pulled the plate close, folding my claws.

When I realized how silly the action was, I unfolded them, facing the one I was about to address in prayer. "Thank you...Lord, for this gift I have so bountifully received."

"You're welcome."

The meat tasted like bread, of course.

"You know, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, you have accomplished something else during your time at that base. You have shown human beings that I am Lord of all. People think that the existence of extraterrestrials would make me irrelevant, but it doesn't. Someone has to put in the alien's brains and intestines, and give life to their bodies."

I gazed at the smiling faces around me, Becky and her son, Kumar, Mike, Ruth, Aquila, Pain, Dabmuvum and Lisconu.

Maria, in her Ss'sik'chtokiwij body, waved to me.

"Is she really the same Sarah that died?" I asked my Savior. "Or was she just a delusional Ss'sik'chtokiwij?"

"It's the same Sarah. In heaven, such mental delusions are cured. I don't normally allow humans to transfer their souls to different bodies like that, but the girl had never experienced life, a real life, so I gave her the desire of her heart."

I ate some more of the meat.

"Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, I know this may cause you great sorrow, but I must inform you that your time is not yet, and this is only a foretaste of the feast to come.

"What?" I cried in alarm.

"You feel unfulfilled, like you haven't done enough to help people. I think you can do more, too. I'm sending you back." He rubbed my head.

"Now, Sarah the Eldest knows of a special place in this village, a cavern, which she would like to show you."

Sarah the Elvish nodded. "It would be an honor."

"I would first like to say goodbye to my loved ones."

Jesus permitted this, so I held my daughter tightly, hugged Maria and Sarah Hansen, and many others.

With many sneezes of joy and sorrow at departing, I went away, following the young woman.

At the end of a row of the most beautiful homes I had ever laid eyes upon, we entered the mouth of a cave, its white rocky interior encrusted with glittering gems and valuable ores.

Sarah led me through a winding maze of caverns, each bearing less and less things that sparkled as we made our way further in, the light diminishing with each step.

We arrived at a giant dirty rock wall, in the dark, looking upwards at a tiny glimmer of light.

"There," Sarah said. "See that? I bet if you climb up that, you'll eventually reach the surface."

"The surface of what?"

She had no response.

At her prompting, I climbed the first rock, and as I did, searing pain shot through me. I cried out in agony.

"You're nearing the mortal realm," she explained, staying where she was. "There's going to be more of that."

"Can you climb with me?" I asked.

She looked around, as if seeking approval from someone. "All right."

I must have climbed for miles under the burden of that searing pain, but Sarah comforted me every step of the way, encouraging me, speaking lovingly about all the good things I'd done, dragging me onto the next shelf or boulder necessary to allow my passage to the one above it.

When I reached the light, however, I was all alone.

I sat on a narrow cliff on the side of a chasm, looking through a cavern mouth at the insides of a crater, brilliantly illuminated by a moon, and maybe something radioactive.

I staggered out, climbing the sides of this crater, until I made it to its exterior.

I tripped on a rock and slid down a mountain of wet sand, for what seemed like miles until I hit a boulder and sprawled on the dirt at the bottom.

Gray flakes fell from the sky. At first I thought it was snowing, but the flakes only turned to dust in my claws. It was ash, likely atomic fallout. The humans had wanted the place livable, but they'd done the exact opposite.

I looked back and saw the foggy remnant of the mushroom cloud.

I wanted to go back, to see if I could salvage anything, like my diary, or maybe some canned food, but I didn't want to suffer radiation sickness in addition to my already unpleasant medical problems.

I rested, out in the open.

The pain didn't allow me to rest for more than an hour, so I did the only thing I could think of doing with my last remaining hours of life on the planet. I left a message, to show people that, despite all the bad things that happened on LV 426, there was still hope.

I gathered every rock I could find in the surrounding area, arranging them in the shape of the Icthys, the Christian fish symbol, its size roughly two square miles, give or take a few kilometers. It wasn't like I had anything else to do.

When I finished, dehydrated and starving, I collapsed on the dirt, and lay there for a long time. I longed to get up, to dig around in the irradiated remains of the base, to see if there was any food I could salvage (By then, I figured I was going to die anyway), but I no longer had the strength to do it.

The rains had stopped, the atmosphere dissipating. Dust storms returned in full force.

When I heard something roar, and gusts of wind heavy with dust blowing upon my shell, I thought it just another dust storm blowing. I didn't even get up to see what it was.

I was too tired, too malnourished, too thirsty to do so anyway. I couldn't even lift my head.

When I saw the pair of white boots marching into my field of vision, I thought I had died again, or were hallucinating. I stared at them with glassy fascination, wondering where this trip would take me.

The boots looked like gloves, with long `fingers' and opposable thumbs, the kind of footwear a human could not fit comfortably into. The boots ended in a pair of shiny white leggings, a sort of form fitting spacesuit.

As I stared, a tail, shrouded in a white sleeve the same color as the suit, curled out around the stranger's ankle.

[0000]

A heavy wind blew between me and the space suited figure, distorting my vision.

"Dusaq," a male voice said. "Sikhib eurtep?"

I did not understand the words.

"Pikhisik kofoqinux?"

"Help!" I croaked. "Ammonia!"

Then, realizing he might not understand what I meant, I added, "Thirsty."

I would have asked him for medical assistance, but I thought this would be beyond the realm of possibility.

"Ammonia."

The strange astronaut knelt down, and I saw a face and upper torso for the first time, obscured by a helmet and life support equipment.

The face did not look human. Its eyes looked like symbolic icons of butterflies, a slitted pupil surrounded by four circles, its nose like a toucan beak.

The space suit had to have been a rather sophisticated sort, for it added no bulk to the creature's slender body, clinging to its shape like a unitard. "Pikhisik kofoqinux?" it repeated.

In Ss'sik'chtokiwij, I replied, "I am in great pain." I'm not sure that was understood, either.

"Are you in need of medical assistance?" he said in English.

"Yes," I groaned. "But you don't know how."

The stranger stood up, and when it did, the dust cleared, and I finally caught sight of its method of transportation.

This was no mirage or angel, walking to me from the Great Beyond. This being actually had a spaceship.

The vehicle, standing on legs that looked like parts of a kneeling insect, had the shape of was shaped like a large letter U, a spheroid on one side, a projecting structure with a long retractable platform on the other.

A door that resembled a camera iris opened at the top of the ramp, and a female figure appeared, the details of her face and body indistinct in the glowing light.

The male said something to this figure, and she came out with a machine that looked like a spider.

My consciousness faded for a few moments. I only recalled them placing the device under me, and somehow floating me up the ramp, through the hatch filled with glowing light.

When I awoke, I found myself floating over a padded table in a round, windowless room. Surrounding me, small, paper thin devices presented medical seeming data in a language I couldn't read.

Along either side of the table, I saw racks of tools, possibly for scientific or medical purposes. For some reason, a hardcover copy Jesus Calling lay among the devices.

Patterns of abstract glowing shapes pulsated in a subdued, muted rhythm on the walls. Four flying cameras orbited me like a planet, supplying the computers with visual data. I could tell what they were because the diagrams had my body shape, and breathed when I did.

A group of humanoid figures stared at me, some from a standing position, two others (children) from a pair of couches that looked like gigantic Venus flytraps.

I could hardly classify them as actual human beings.

I saw a little girl with eyestalks and dalmatian patterned fur, and a plump male child with a nose like a bat and floppy dog ears, both clad in strange costumes, the boy in a black rainbow striped dress, the female a splotchy blue and black halter and shorts. The two giggled and pointed to something on a device, not paying me any attention.

A peach colored face leaned close to me, one with a beak and a mouth with a harelip, but no eyes below the forehead. A pair of eyestalks snaked out of her long purple hair, butterfly pupils similar to the spacesuit man.

Her neck was covered in soft cream colored fur, which turned to gray on her arms, the rest of her upper torso modestly covered in a shiny black vest. "I still think we should have simulated and replaced the organs, Zadoori. I understand the convenience, but the area is radioactive. The amount of time it took to vacuum seal the chamber and operate on the donor body could have put the patient's life at risk."

She was answered by the beaked visage I'd seen outside in the wasteland. Without the helmet, I could see the cleft lip, the short cropped black hair, and the cross earring. His blue rubbery jumpsuit creaked as he strode around the table. "Naumona, the radiation has been removed. It's completely safe. We're working with a foreign biology, and I don't want it to die because it rejected a simulated organ."

"It could die anyway. It's not uncommon for bodies to reject the organs of donors, real or simulated."

"Can I speak to him yet?" a familiar female voice asked from somewhere out of view.

"Not at this time," Zadoori said. "Although I'm sure you'd make her very happy, I'm not certain she's prepared for the shock."

"I'm okay," I gasped, but nobody paid attention.

A hairy rust orange creature in a Moslem-like head scarf approached. It had no nose or mouth, only a proboscis. Its six eyes peered out from a pair of broad horns on the top of its head, instead of from its face.

Little hairy claws reached out from its dark robe, pushing buttons on one of the monitors. A cross dangled from its neck. "This is the creature that made the Icthys?"

"It would appear so, Thonwa," Naumona said. "She has uttered many scriptural things in her sleep."

Another stranger in a blue jumpsuit viewed me from my opposite side, a slender female with goat's eyes, and a nose and mouth that made her look like a half human guinea pig. Long nostrils projecting on a slight muzzle, oddly smiling mouth, but otherwise human looking. Large sow-like ears twitched from the sides of her short red hair. "I'm still not sure this is safe, Zadoori. We've encountered these creatures before. They tend to be very violent."

[Page 5]

Zadoori opened his mouth to speak, but a long nosed human male with mouse brown hair put his hand on her shoulder. A gold band sparkled on his ring finger. "It's okay, honey. This one's different. It was trying to sing The Old Rugged Cross when we brought it in."

Guinea Pig Face curled a rubber encased tail around the man's short purple dress. "I know, David, but there's a joke about a praying lion..."

The man rubbed her head. "Yeah, but still, I feel this one's different."

"We have a special holding cell we can put the creature in," Thonwa said. "If necessary."

I did a double take when I saw a human looking female in a standard gray maintenance uniform. "Mara?"

"She's awake," said Zadoori.

Naumona nodded to me. "Your friend was buried under a mountain of debris. We wouldn't have found her at all, had she not been continually broadcasting device interfering radio signals."

"I couldn't find all the pieces," Thonwa said. "But I and Naumona salvaged limbs and body parts from other synthetic humans, patching her together with some devices of our own."

Guinea Pig Face waved at me, her gold wedding band glittering. "Hello. I'm Pillow Barnes. I assisted Bilo Borkin Zadoori with the surgery. Are you experiencing any discomfort?"

Her name sounded like a mattress store. I purred in amusement. "I'm okay. I'm just not used to floating."

"We'll get you down from there soon enough."

"Why are you named after something that humans sleep on?" I asked.

"It means something completely different in Wava, my native language. It is pronounced `pie-low'. It means `flower of beautiful eyes,' and it actually describes a specific plant you can see in many of our botanical gardens."

"She is also very comfortable to sleep on," the brunette said with a chuckle.

She elbowed him. "Stop."

[0007]

"Her maiden name is Pulsa Pillow," the man said. "I suggested she change her name to Pulsa Barnes, but she preferred Pillow." He shrugged. "It is a beautiful name."

"And I suggested he follow Abreya tradition and change his last name to Pulsa," his wife said, flipping her tail playfully under the human's skirt. "But David was stubborn. I have become used to having his last name."

"Why am I floating?"

"We did not want to cause spinal injuries," Zadoori said. "In order to rotate you and perform surgical operations, we suspended you with magnetic particle repulsion."

"They use a more primitive version to operate magnetic trains," David said.

"I don't have any metallic or magnetic particles in my body."

"We have ways of magnetizing non-metallic atoms, and changing their polarity to repel things into the air."

"Was my spine injured?"

"You are a very hardy species. We did not see any serious damage. However, you will be in much pain if we do not perform a few adjustments with our chiropractic devices."

Zadoori's tail, encased in a blue rubber sleeve, curled around a black rod with prongs sticking out of one end.

"What is that you are carrying around behind you?"

"It is a stunning device. I am hoping I do not need to use it on you."

"You have nothing to fear from me, brother."

Mara marched up to me, giving me a warm smile. "Hello, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik. How are you?"

"I'm okay, mother," I said sheepishly.

The smaller creatures, seated in a plant sofa on the opposite side, did not get up.

I glanced at the underside of my body. "You gave me an organ transplant?"

Apparently convinced that I could be trusted, at least for the moment, Zadoori set down his stunner. "Yes. It was a challenge, since quite a few of your organs rapidly deteriorate in contact with the outside air, but we have pressure sealed operating systems."

"See, Pillow?" said David. "She's friendly!"

"Who are you people?" I asked. "What are you doing here?"

"We belong to the Intergalactic Missionary League. We've been searching the universe for beings in need of the gospel."

"That's wonderful," I said. "I have spent my life trying to reach my people for Jesus. Unfortunately, the harvest was not plentiful."

Pillow chuckled. "I could see how that would be a problem."

"Have you met others of my kind?"

"Once. On a different planet. But that was a long time ago."

"Perhaps you can take me there."

"It is a long distance from here, but we return again sometime."

"Perhaps sooner," said Thonwa. "Now that we have an evangelist of your species among us."

I idly clawed the air. "Can I stop floating now?"

"You will experience pain," Pillow said. "You have many wounds that have been treated with chemical compounds, and dislocated vertebra."

"Suffering produces character."

"Spoken like a true evangelist." Zadoori pushed a device on the table, and I slowly sunk onto the cushions. It was slightly painful, but I endured it.

"We have replaced your teeth with simulation materials and removed the devices from your brain, plugging the holes. The neurosurgery was the most dangerous operation we had to do, but fortunately our technology is a little more advanced than the one that put those devices in."

"Still," Pillow said. "It wasn't easy. You've had those probes in for a long time, and your body grew around them...It's a miracle the surgery was a success."

"Praise God," I said. "I had resigned myself to a life in which those things stuck in my head. I owe you a debt I cannot repay."

Zadoori smiled.

"When you searched the debris. Did you find any survivors?"

"None," Zadoori said.

I thought about all those innocent Ss'sik'chtokiwij, with their beautiful shells and wonderful minds, and started crying.

Zadoori stroked me across the head. "I am sorry." He paused. "I heard there was also a queen, but I found no evidence of one anywhere in the debris. They are supposed to be large, are they not?"

I stopped crying. "Yes."

And then it struck me. "Grandmother is alive!"

"Is it okay for her to see me now?" said a voice behind me.

Zadoori nodded, and out walked Sarah.

An adult woman in her twenties. Just like in my vision.

She didn't have pointy ears, and she wore a robe of plaid silk that resembled an African agbada, but she had the same figure, same face, same hair.

"Sarah?"

[Page 10]

She smiled. "Yes, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik. It's me. Well, one of the me's."

"But how did you survive the explosion? And the Ss'sik'chtokiwij attack?"

"DAMBALLAH kept me in a cryogenic storage facility in a cavern outside the base. Apparently my pod was the only one that didn't have a critical life support failure."

The pieces to this puzzle were still not connecting. "How do you know my name?"

She showed me an object that looked like a CD, making a hologram of a Ss'sik'chtokiwij with feathers and a long mosquito like beak appear.

"Big Bird?"

"Hello, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik," the creature said. "I am currently experiencing pleasure in observing your normal vital readings, as well as engaging in verbal communication with you in a conscious state."

"I'm...happy to see you too."

Sarah sat the disk down on the end of my bed.

"You may be interested to know that I have extracted several of your journal entries from a broken tablet computer," Big Bird said. "If you wish to amend or share them, they may be accessed at any time from the ship's database."

Sarah smiled. "I read all of them. You're the only one who understands what I've been through."

She kissed me on the head. "My lips feel tingly. Like I just ate something spicy."

I smirked. "If it starts melting your flesh, perhaps you should tell the doctor."

I sat up and stretched, causing myself more pain.

"You should rest," said Zadoori. "You're not fully healed."

"We'd give you painkillers," Pillow added. "But we don't know if your body can tolerate it. We've read about the pancakes."

I sighed. "How long was I out?"

"Eight hours. Your testimony was very moving."

"We enjoy reading testimonies," said the thing with the proboscis.

Zadoori handed me a tumbler of yellow liquid. "Here. Drink this. We gave you fluids intravenously, but it was difficult, and you could use more."

I emptied the glass. "How did you know I needed ammonia?"

"It was in your testimony," said Sarah.

"Plus you said it enough times," Zadoori said.

The moment I passed the empty glass back, they all laid hands on me, praying for healing and strength. Even the android's hand rested upon my shell.

"I didn't know you were Christian!" I cried in surprise.

"I'm not. I merely wanted to experience this spiritual event." She frowned. "No new physiological or sensory data detected. Psychologically, however, I am finding enjoyment in providing emotional support by means of tactile contact."

"I fathom even less," said Big Bird. "I have no sensory data."

Mara stared at her, making a computer noise with her mouth.

"I see," Big Bird said. "This is interesting as it is puzzling."

"My Call unit said something similar to me once," Sarah said. "But that was about hugging."

"She means well," I said.

"Perhaps." Her expression darkened. "As long as the DAMBALLAH program doesn't give her new instructions."

[0012]

"I am currently experiencing guilt," Mara said. "And it causes the emotional response of sadness. However, as a synthetic human, I did not have the ability to contradict the programming of my controllers, so this sadness is compounded with feelings of helplessness and inadequacy."

She sighed, but it seemed forced, as she probably didn't need to breathe, and the exhalation ended too abruptly to be realistic. "I sincerely apologize for my actions."

I knew this was as good an apology as we were going to get from an android. "You're forgiven."

"You forgive a synthetic human? One who put your life and the lives of your friends in danger?"

"My Lord did not tell me to harbor grudges."

She smiled a little. "I think I am beginning to see the emotional value of this `grace' I have heard about. I still do not understand the spiritual aspect, but forgiveness is very liberating. It pleases me to know that this kind of unconditional love is not limited to my late husband."

Without a word of warning, Zadoori unzipped the front of his jumpsuit, disrobing right in front of me.

The creature was covered in fur from neck to foot. His pelt was brown, with a pattern that vaguely resembled a socmavaj with missing legs.

He had pectoral muscles that seemed oddly well developed, and below that, rows of orifices on the sides of his ribs, possibly a form of genitalia, though a thong covered something else between his legs. His tail, now exposed, reminded me of something one would see on an opossum.

He quickly pulled on a dress, a blue number with a pattern of eyeball flowers and a ruffled bottom.

"You are a Christian, and you wear a dress?" I asked.

"It is not a dress. It is a Wighesh. All heterosexual Abreya males wear them."

"Is that what you are? An Abreya?"

"Yes."

"It might be helpful to compare them to kilts," said the human. "Or certain traditional Greek outfits."

"That's how I convinced him to wear one," Pillow said as she also disrobed. It seemed their culture had a different definition of `nudity' and `indecency'. "Then I showed him a cute little Ipsego that looked exactly like a Roman centurion's outfit. He's been wearing them ever since."

Her pelt was like a tortoiseshell cat, with a white crescent pattern to it, and cream colored fur around the front, just like Zadoori. For modesty, she wore a harness around her chest and the sides of her ribs, and a thong to cover something squid-like below.

She donned a spore patterned dashiki and shiny black shorts.

"I wish to familiarize myself with the computer systems," Big Bird announced.

"Familiarize all you wish," Naumona said. "I appreciate the work you are doing with the control program."

Big Bird bowed. "My subroutines are deeply affected." She vanished.

"Where are we?" I asked Sarah. "What is this place?"

Zadoori zipped up the back of his dress with his tail. "This is the Iberet, commissioned by the Falcameer royal family to bring the gospel, food and medical aid to intelligent lifeforms on other planets."

"Excellent. May I have some of this food you mentioned?"

Zadoori laughed. "Of course you can! How silly of us. You must be starving! I'd tell you to come upstairs, but you still need to heal."

"I think I'll be able to manage..."

I dropped one leg over the side of the table, scooting the rest of me closer to the edge.

Zadoori, Mara and Sarah quickly rushed to my side, helping me down.

The small ones got up from the couch and watched us.

"When are we taking off?" the boy asked.

"Soon," Zadoori answered. "But first, Sister Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik needs to eat."

I chuckled. "Sister Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik. I like that."

[Page 15]

In zero gravity, one can easily climb up and down ladders along walls, and drift between upper and lower floors. A staircase was nonsense, except when your ship is on the ground, and gravity is actually present.

I really was in no shape for the ladder rungs. My cave climbing expedition took a lot out of me. Instead they took me up a staggered set of ramps they used for cargo.

Upstairs, I found myself walking across the stone courtyard of something that looked like a Mayan acropolis, surrounded by jungle and clusters of square gray buildings connected by concrete tubes.

In the center of this picturesque scene stood two more of the Venus flytrap couches, and a low round table with twisted squid legs serving as its supports. The scenery appeared to be an illusion.

Zadoori pointed at the buildings. "Takoufea Qorized. Birthplace of Christian evangelism on the planet Pathilon."

David entered the chamber. "It's like a monastery. The place is still under non-Christian Quaceb control, but Christians make pilgrimages to the site, to be inspired."

"What is a Quaceb?" I asked.

"It is the religion of my people," Zadoori answered. "Suffice to say, our scriptures predicted the coming of a messiah, a great kipom, that matches Jesus' description." He addressed the ceiling. "Standby mode."

Immediately the landscape vanished, replaced by a dome patterned with pulsating amorphous shapes. The chairs and table continued to exist where they were.

Sarah grinned. "My favorite is the view from the rings of Saturn."

To the rear of this domed room, there stood a long table surrounded by stools, with a counter and a kitchen to one side, and on the end opposite the kitchen, a little altar with a brass cross and a metal symbol that resembled a spindle adapter for a vinyl record, apparently another symbol of faith. I presumed it to be where they had church.

They led me to the table, and I did manage to successfully seat myself on a child's stool. This marked, perhaps, the first time I had used any kind of chair without ruining it...unless you count my vision of heaven.

"Your biography states that you can tolerate few things, aside from meat. What would you like? Hamburger? Pork? Or maybe something more exotic? Poxmurl, perhaps? Sehlowi? Rasgiwa? Lozgelm?"

"What do you recommend?" I asked.

He served me Rasgiwa, which looked somewhat like steak with scales on it, but tasted rather like cheese, salmon and spoiled lettuce.

The human seated himself next to me, eating a ham sandwich. The others, it seemed, had already eaten, for they only climbed onto stools and watched me devour one chunk of meat, then another.

"Are you a Moslem?" I asked the creature with the proboscis.

"No," Thonwa said. "My people wear remtodis to conceal their genitalia. If you catch me smoothing it flat, please kindly look the other direction."

"Certainly."

"Honey," Pillow said to her husband. "Could you check on the incubator?"

David sighed. "Have you squat over the egg today?"

"I did it this morning. It's your turn."

He nodded, stepping out of the room.

"Whose egg are you hatching?" I said.

"Mine and David's."

"So...you and a human...produced an egg?"

She nodded. "It really shouldn't have worked. Our genital configuration isn't designed to fit together. But, well, our scientists developed an appliance..."

"It is not surprising," said Zadoori. "Our organization was founded by a human-Abreya couple. Our Lord in His wisdom chose to make that union fruitful, even without a special device."

"That is truly amazing."

"Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik," said Pillow. "We are destined to depart this area soon. Now, I know this is your home, and we may not be returning back here for a very long time. Do you have any objections to leaving this place indefinitely and coming with us?"

I shook my head. "There is nothing for me here. My true home is in heaven."

I was both surprised and delighted to hear several amens in response.

Zadoori set a silver cone on the table, pushed a button on the side, and a galaxy of stars and planets appeared before me. "While everyone is here, I'd like to take a vote on our next destination. We have several to choose from at this point."

He highlighted a blue orb. "This is planet Pandora, home to an aboriginal race of creatures called the Na'vi. Sources indicate that their primary religion is nature worship. They could use the gospel."

I heard murmuring in response.

He selected a green-purple planet. "At some point, we should return home to Pathilon, to restock supplies, to acquire funding, and to worship with our home congregation again."

"David and I still need a nennop," Pillow said.

"What's that?" I asked.

"To put it in human terms, it's a twenty four hour, seven day a week live-in relationship counselor."

"That definitely would give a relationship stability," Mara agreed.

"Do you have a nennop, Zadoori?" Sarah asked.

The male shook his head. "Alanksala Mishahee died during our last mission. During her years of service, she taught me many valuable things to help my own troubled relationship, so I have no need of another."

"What else do you have?" said Thonwa.

[0017]

He illuminated a blue-white orb. "Earth. Admittedly, it is the birthplace of Christianity, but still, so many people live in darkness, without knowledge of Christ."

Mutters of agreement, and disagreement.

"What else?" Sarah asked.

"Well, there's Qaomroc, Xebgum, Hidxash and Arjesco, which I honestly don't know very much about, other than their need for Jesus. Then there's the planet Choroq, which will require us all to wear special masks to breathe the air."

"We'll need masks for Pandora too," Pillow pointed out.

"Yes. I suppose we will. Now, we're going to have to visit all of these planets eventually, but some of these, like Choroq and Hidxash, require the same exact amount of time and travel, which is why I would like to put this up for a vote."

I knew precious little about any of it, so I just politely listened and ate while the others debated the matter.

"Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik has never seen Pathilon," Pillow said. "I think we should take her there right away, to familiarize her with Quaceb culture."

"Poor dear," Thonwa said rather condescendingly. "She can't stop worrying about Yadira."

The guinea pig face twisted in an angry scowl. "Just because you don't have any family to visit, doesn't mean others are just like you."

"Now now, Pillow," Zadoori scolded. "Let's not be insulting. We all want to go home eventually, but maybe the Lord doesn't want us back there so soon. Perhaps there are lifeforms in need, somewhere else in this universe, and we haven't run across them yet."

"`To seek out new worlds, and new civilizations'," Naumona quipped. She shook her head. "Poniki. Now I know I've been on this ship too long. I'm picking up David's ridiculous expressions."

"I do not need to see your planet," I said. "If you have a more important destination, I should be glad to go wherever it is you choose. I have not left the base on this planet for a long time."

Despite me saying this our group could not reach an agreement.

As the debate continued, Thonwa unfolded a glowing piece of paper, pushing something on it until a small glowing cloud of light appeared in the air above it.

"It's an art medium." She sculpted a few shapes from the vapor, then pushed it to me, indicating that I should give it a try. I found it rather enjoyable, though not as rewarding as sewing.

The group decided to adjourn the meeting for the evening.

[0020]

"Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik," Naumona said to me. "We'd be honored if you would lead us in tonight's bible study."

Since I thought their group could use some good will, I lead the group in a study of Romans 12 and 13. I believe this did wonders for their morale, and impressed in them a need to keep me on the team.

The crew had cryogenic chambers, but during landings and short trips, they all rested on things that looked like giant jellyfish, curling up under something that looked like a long thick piece of skin. I was concerned I might damage the thing, so Naumona rolled out a sort of cushiony mat for me in the medical lab, and I laid on that for awhile.

Sarah pulled out a second mat and laid next to me.

"Did you say that you had my diary?"

Sarah nodded, bringing Big Bird's hologram down from the lab table.

"Greetings, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik," Big Bird said. "My records indicate that your diary was ended abruptly due to more pressing circumstances. Would you like to amend it?"

And so I did, verbally. Sarah sat up, listening with rapt attention, as if it were the most exciting thing she'd ever heard. She was almost sad when I reached the end, the point where I crawled out of the cavern and got picked up by Zadoori and his friends, but there you have it, the complete story.

All of what you have read up to this point has been verbally dictated to Big Bird and put into the database.

Today is officially Gogela 41st on the Abreya calendar. David hasn't been home for awhile, and he's been too busy trying to hatch his first egg to know the correct earth equivalent. He said it doesn't matter anyway.

Gogela 42

I have had a most troubling and disturbing night.

After an hour of resting on the floor, Sarah invited me to her chambers along the wing of the spaceship, a small gray room with one of those jellyfish beds (they're called jamassi).

Things began innocently enough. She said she was uncomfortable with sleeping alone, and she'd feel better if I could at least sleep next to her on the floor.

Her precise words were, "Even if you can't join me in the bed, I still would appreciate it if you slept next to me."

Although I found her use of emphasis a little strange, I thought nothing of it, and just curled up next to the jamassi. She shut off the light.

I only rested for a few minutes before Sarah stepped out of the room, muttering something about using the bathroom.

She was gone for a long time, but I thought it sometimes took humans a long time to empty their bowels, and someone could have started talking to her on the way back. Since I doubted any of my kind still remained alive enough to wreak havoc on the crew, I rolled over and tried to rest.

An hour later, the lights came back on, Sarah entering the room clad in a shiny gray robe, its texture like dolphin skin.

She closed the door behind her, let the robe drop to the floor, standing before me in her underwear.

The adult woman had painted strange disturbing designs around her mouth, neck and exposed chest.

Aside from the paint, she looked beautiful, and I wished she could find a good human male, or maybe an Abreya, that could love her as a wife.

I sat up, staring at her. "What is this about?"

"I read about Maria. And I want the same for me. I heard you say that she transferred her spirit into the larva because she has been raised without a real life, and she needed to experience one. I have spent over twenty years in the simulation! I want to start over."

"I'm confused. Isn't Sesame Time designed for young children?"

"Yes." She rolled her eyes. "When I could no longer accept the reality of puppets, they put me in something called Learning Town. It's an experimental program they developed for adults with learning disabilities. I believe you've been there, with your friends. It has a gazebo and a hotel."

This made me saddened and angry at the same time. "I'm sorry. I wish there was something I could do."

"Oh, but there is!" she said with excitement rising in her voice. "Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, I know you desire to lay eggs, but abstain because you don't want anyone to die. I am your willing host. I will take your egg and gladly bear it for you. If I die, that's okay. I can start life anew as a Ss'sik'chtokiwij."

I have never been intentionally seduced. It was the strangest, most flattering, most disturbing thing I have ever experienced. "Sarah, I do not know if that will work again. The original Sarah was strong. My Lord granted her an exception, for He had chosen her to defeat a great evil."

"What if I am chosen to do this as well?"

I sighed. "You are my friend. I do not wish to lose you. I cannot bear to see another close friend die."

"But I will not die, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik! Don't you see? I'll be reborn! I will start over with a new life, new memories, new everything!"

I sighed and shook my head. "I love you the way you are, Sarah. You have many years ahead of you. I wish to see you live them out, in your current beautiful body. You are different from me, and that is why I love you. Please. Stay the way you are. Do not ask this of me. Please, Sarah."

She started crying. "I was nothing more than a cow to those people! They tied me to a bed, spread my legs apart, and stuck a device between my legs. I gave birth to two babies, and they took both of them away from me. I can't take any more of this. I don't want to live with those memories anymore."

"What if the memories don't go away? Did you ever think of that, Sarah?"

She sniffed. "The best way to get rid of old memories is to make new ones. If I am born again as a larva, I'll have decades to bury those old memories, and still be young."

"I'm not going to put my suaakudsi down your throat."

The corner of her mouth twisted into a smirk. "Then put the egg somewhere else."

I frowned, not comprehending.

She gestured to her underwear. "It's supposed to have babies in it anyway."

The idea both disgusted and intrigued me. "I'm...not really sure it would work that way. The larva would still want to devour your interior, and you wouldn't have a placenta or anything to protect you, only the remains of its egg. Also, I believe it would irrevocably damage your urinary and digestive systems."

"I could squeeze it out. Plus, I don't care if it makes me sterile. I've had two me's already. I don't want to have any more babies. I could push it out, make it share minds with me, and if it wanted to eat me, or eat regular food, it could."

"I...don't know," I said with an unsettled feeling in my stomach.

"Would it help if we married?"

I shook my head. "I don't know if God will honor an arrangement like this."

"He seems to have honored David and Pillow."

"Perhaps, but that is different. In their respective species, both parents survive the act of reproduction."

"You don't know that I won't."

"You have a death wish. In good conscience, I cannot honor it."

Sarah kissed me on the head, then the mouth. I guess she didn't care about getting burned.

She crawled under the jamassi covering. "Think it over."

I did. The idea sounded worse and worse the more I thought about it.

Trying not to think about the subject, I laid still until I fell asleep.

I awoke to someone gently shaking me.

Thinking it was Sarah, I groaned, brushing them away. "No. I flatly refuse to insert an egg into any part of your anatomy."

A male voice laughed. "That is good, because I do not wish this to happen to me!"

I stared at the harelip and beak. "Oh. It's you."

[TO DECIDE WHERE ERNIE GOES NEXT...]

[OPTION 1: ALIEN 3 THEMED ADVENTURE:

"Yes. Great news, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik! We've come to a decision. A new planet has been added to our list, and everyone agrees that we should definitely go there first."

"New planet?" I asked in surprise.

He nodded. "How do you feel about prison ministries?"

[IF YOU THINK ERNIE SHOULD AGREE TO THIS, CONTINUE READING BELOW]

[OPTION 2: NON-CANON FANTASY-SCIFI ADVENTURE]

"Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, do you have any objections to a visit to Pathilon?"

[IF YOU THINK ERNIE SHOULD CHOOSE DIFFERENTLY, CONTINUE READING IN CHAPTER #: STRANGE PLANET]

Gogela 43

"Prison ministries?" I said with excitement. "I think that's a wonderful idea!"

"Good! We'd like to share the good news of Jesus with the people on Fiorina 161. It's an interesting place a few light years from our present location. Maximum security, from what I hear. I think you'd be just the kind of creature to scare those men straight."

"Will it take long to get there?"

Zadoori shrugged. "It depends on your definition of a long time. Our vehicle can fly circles around the most sophisticated human spaceships. Would you like some breakfast?"

I nodded. "Where are we now? Still on LV 426?"

"No, we're passing the Viaslagti system, en route to Fiorina 161."

All the seats around the table had been filled, except for the ones belonging to David and Mara. I asked Zadoori about the latter.

"She's piloting the ship. She's been studying the controls all night, with the help of your holographic friend. Already she knows more than I and Thonwa put together, and we're the pilots."

Although Thonwa had a proboscis and few other readable facial features, I still thought I detected some embarrassment.

I pointed to the ladders on the wall. "Why do we have these when the ship clearly has gravity?"

"From time to time the mechanisms stop circling the hull." Zadoori reached under my stool, pulling out a sucker tipped strap made out of some organic material. "We have precautions, just in case."

"I've heard that people travel a great distance of space using cryogenics. When will we be doing that?"

"Please don't put me under!" Sarah cried. "I've been real good! I haven't touched myself since you unfroze me!"

This earned her many uncomfortable stares.

"Refrigeration is not a punishment," Zadoori said. "We only do it if the distance merits it. Fiorina 161 can be reached over the course of a few days. When we return to Pathilon, however..."

She sighed in relief.

Sarah now wore a head scarf, similar to the one Thonwa wore, but lavender in color, with cat-like ears poking out the top.

She noticed me staring. "It's called a Neflah. All Quaceb women wear them to ceremonies. What do you think?"

"It looks nice."

The small female Abreya waved to me. I noticed she and Naumona shared many similar traits, most notably the purple hair and the butterfly eyes which came out of it like snakes rather than looking at you from her face, and the harelip. Her nose, however, resembled that of a lion, reminding me of the man in that old Beauty and the Beast television program.

The morning meal consisted of a type of pancake made from Pathilonian grains, mounds of small insects in a waxy sauce, and breasts of something called Wusu, apparently a flightless bird with crustacean-like features.

Sarah grimaced as she took a nibble of the bird.

"David says it's an acquired taste," Pillow said. "I believe he compares it to chocolate, bacon and spoiled tomatoes. Perhaps the jidozli would be more to your liking." She pointed to the pancakes.

Sarah watched as I salivated, biting through a wing of Wusu. When I voiced no complaint, she forced a lump of meat down her throat.

"It's so sad," Pillow said. "She's like a big child."

Sarah stopped eating and glared at her.

"Honey," Pillow said. "I did not mean to offend. My husband is like a big child, but I love him, just the same."

"She has had a very sheltered life," I said.

Pillow chuckled sheepishly. "So has my husband."

Sarah scowled, and in a cold voice, asked, "Did he also spend twenty years in a computer simulation?"

Pillow sighed and shook her head. "Off and on."

"I didn't have an off."

"Some people might say you're lucky."

"You did miss a lot of terrible things," I said.

Sarah frowned, nibbled on her Wusu breast.

"What's wrong with being a big child?" the little boy said.

"Nothing, dear," said Naumona. "You know we are all the children of God."

"Naumona," I said. "Are these your children?"

She laughed. "Biologically, no, but yes, they are mine. I apologize for not introducing them before."

Naumona got up, placing her hand on the boy's back. "This is Oxana. We adopted him after finding him abandoned in a Kexzetvca market." She rubbed the little female's shoulder. "And this is Sharad. She's actually Zadoori's niece, but she lost both her parents in a Grunkiahu riding accident."

"I'm sorry," I said. "What's a Grunkiahu?"

"It's a type of flying creature."

"That is too bad...so no children of your own?"

She shook her head. "Not yet, but we're trying."

Zadoori smirked at her.

"So, Thonwa," I said. "Are you also from Pathilon?"

She took her proboscis out of a glass of some slimy looking glop, shaking her head. "No, I came from Cijmabsa. The swamps are very beautiful this time of year."

"They are," David agreed. "You'd really be surprised."

The little girl climbed off her stool to show Sarah a device that looked like a makeup compact.

"What is that?" Sarah said.

"It's an Urtajsa." She showed her how it worked. I believe you would describe it as `social media,' but it only involved live video with game-like components.

Abreyas on the screen waved at her, and she waved back. They were all speaking Wava, however, so Sarah didn't understand the words when they spoke to her.

The girl rattled off something that involved the word `human', then gave up, returning to her seat.

I stared at the empty seat next to Pillow. "Where is your husband?"

She smiled. "He's probably warming our egg."

"Can I see it?" Sarah asked eagerly.

Pillow glanced at her, then me. "You most certainly can. Would you mind going into our room and getting my husband for me? He's probably fallen asleep on the egg again. He's going to miss our study."

I quickly stuffed a chunk of Wusu breast into my mouth. "Gladly."

Pillow chuckled. "Your food will still be here when you get back."

[Page 5]

I gave her a sheepish grin. "Thank you."

The children had been busy with their devices, so they did not accompany us.

There were eight bedrooms in total along that narrow triangular corridor (two for the children) but the crew only needed five, six if you counted Sarah and I.

I didn't know what room belonged to whom, so I knocked on every door I saw.

I stopped knocking when I heard someone singing at the end of the hall.

I raised a claw to knock on the door, but Sarah was already pushing buttons on a keypad.

The door slid open on a rather awkward scene.

The human had the front of his dress unzipped all the way from top to bottom, so that it hung from his body like a cape, his modesty preserved only by a pair of elastic briefs, and, of course, the large slimy egg.

He held the thing between his folded legs, chest and stomach pressed against it as he slowly rocked back and forth, singing Shall We Gather At The River.

"Wow," Sarah giggled as she tiptoed in.

Upon glancing up, the man yelped in surprise, hurriedly pulling his dress closed. "We have door chimes for a reason! Don't go barging in like that again! It's rude!"

"I'm sorry," I said. "I was about to knock..."

Sarah grinned, kneeling in front of the egg. "Is there a real baby inside there?"

David disengaged himself, zipping up his dress. "Yes."

"You sing to it?" I asked.

His face, already bright pink, deepened in color. "I've heard that a fetus can absorb info subconsciously. Pillow and I have been singing hymns around her, in hopes she'll grow up to be a good Christian."

Sarah slid a hand down its bumpy, glistening surface. It reminded me of a Suskjirsaksva, an egg for a socmavaj, but dark purple, with broad orange blobs of color running down its top and sides like a giant candle someone had lit a few times. The base had a similar patterning.

"Can I hold it?" Sarah asked.

"Yes," David said. "But be careful. Don't squeeze it too hard or be rough. There's a living child in there."

Sarah sat on the floor, cradling it in her arms for a moment before breaking out in giggles. "I can feel its heart beating!"

David chuckled softly as a clicked buttons on a device that looked like an oversized chicken incubator. "I know. It's the best feeling in the world."

David's room was identical to Sarah's. A spartan, monkish type of dwelling with no decoration, just a jamassi and storage compartments, crosses and Quaceb symbols hanging on the walls.

Okay, so there were a few framed pictures of David and Pillow enjoying each other's company, and the company of the crew at an assortment of exotic locales, but that was it.

"Have you named it yet?" Sarah asked. "Your baby?"

"Not yet. But we have some ideas. I've actually been trying to convince Pillow not to name her Jacuzzi."

For some reason, Sarah didn't laugh. Maybe she wasn't listening. "Please don't call her Sarah. There's too many of us already."

David laughed. "I'll keep that in mind."

The incubator consisted of a dome that fitted over the egg, with built in crisscrossed metal arches that beamed down warm rays of heat. A translucent yellow gel at the bottom secured the egg in place, and a set of computer devices below regulated it all.

"Are they having breakfast yet?" David asked.

I nodded. "We're about to have bible study."

"All right. Let me show you how this incubator works."

A large hatch opened on one side of the dome. David gently slid the egg through the padded mouth, into the gel, which slurmed up and around the egg in a protective warming cocoon.

He closed the dome, pushing some buttons, and the heat lamps came on. "It's set on a specific timed program. Perfect temperature, ideal pressure. Still, nothing can replace the loving arms of mommy and daddy, so Pillow and I take turns cradling her three times a day." He beamed with pride.

"I wish I were that lucky," Sarah said gloomily. "My babies were all taken away from me."

The man opened his mouth, but was clearly at a loss for words. "I'm sorry."

She started crying.

David, attempting to console her, gave Sarah a hug.

The girl responded somewhat unwisely, kissing him full on the mouth with undue passion.

"David, honey," I heard Pillow saying from the door. "They've started the-"

I looked up and saw that Pillow had witnessed enough.

David pushed the girl away, but it was too late.

The Abreya burst into tears, stomping out of the room.

David rushed after her. "Pillow! It's not my fault!"

Sarah wiped her mouth on her sleeve, looking oddly pleased with herself.

"Sarah," I scolded. "That was not an acceptable method of communication with a married person."

She shrugged. "I just wanted to see what it felt like."

I couldn't think of anything to say. I supposed if I were human, I'd want to know too.

"It was..." she glanced at the egg. "The best feeling in the world."

Instead of having a bible study, we had `Council.'

Matthew 18 and other bible texts speak of how you are to address a brother who has sinned against you and refused to listen.

I thought the general rule was bringing one additional brother with you in peaceful rebuke, and if they still refused to listen, you were to treat them as a tax collector and a sinner, possibly setting up a tribunal or a council to debate what to do with them, driving them out as a last resort.

But here was the whole flock. And Mara.

It was silent when I neared the table, apparently due to some sharp words already spoken. Everyone stared at David like a dog that just peed on the carpet. Even the children looked at him accusingly.

Pillow's face shimmered with tears. "I knew we should have gone straight home and got a nennop."

Thonwa put her claws on her hip joints, sighing through her proboscis.

Zadoori shook his head sadly. "A wedding vow is not something that is taken lightly, David. You made an oath before God to be committed to your wife, sexually, for as long as you both live."

"He just latched onto the first human he came across," Pillow sobbed. "Like I don't even matter."

"Doesn't anyone believe that it's not my fault?" David shouted.

"I know," Pillow sobbed bitterly. "You got so tired of the way Abreya tongues are shaped that you couldn't help but try a human one for a change."

"Dammit, Pillow! That's bullshit! What kind of man do you take me for!" He pointed to Sarah. "I just met her! She was crying, I tried to comfort her, and she took advantage of me. That's it!"

I crept to my spot at the table, but someone had already cleared the food away.

"Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik," Zadoori said. "You were with Sarah. What did you see?"

"I saw a mentally undeveloped young girl who doesn't understand the moral implications of mouth to mouth nonverbal communication."

"I've never had a man before," Sarah said unhelpfully.

"Well mine's taken," Pillow snapped. "You're never to be alone with my husband again. You hear me!"

Now Sarah was crying. "I'm so alone!"

Pillow was unsympathetic. "You'll just have to be alone."

Zadoori sighed. "God did not make us to be alone. I'm sure, out in this vast galaxy of stars and planets, there's a man out there that God chose just for you. You just need to be patient, keep your eyes open, and not covet other women's husbands."

Sarah continued to cry, but I wasn't sure this was something to comfort people about. It was like a spoiled child that cries over not getting the expensive toy they wanted in a toy store.

"Can I still hold your egg?"

"No," said Pillow, her voice dripping with contempt.

"You said it yourself," I told her. "Sarah is like a big child. She's had a sheltered life. She really doesn't know much about the real world."

"Sarah units are raised in captivity for experimentation and breeding purposes," Mara agreed. "This is the first time she has ever been outside the facility."

[Page 10]

David muttered something to his wife.

Pillow rolled her eyes, which looked strange with her minus sign shaped pupils. "Okay. You can hold my egg. But only if I'm present in the room."

After that, our party regained its equilibrium, peacefully gathering at the altar for prayer and hymns of praise.

As per their religious custom, the males wore little black hats that looked like upside down flower pots (bri gi'uz), the females wearing Neflahs.

They read a passage from the book of Yars, an alien scripture, which spoke of a coming messiah (kipom), one who would be executed among criminals and placed upon the branches of a tree to die. The parallel was striking.

Pillow and David distanced themselves from us during this worship time, but maintained a good Christian front. The warmth of their brothers and sisters of the faith more than compensated for any feeling of alienation we may have felt.

The little boy and girl seemed as devout as everyone else, prostrating themselves before the cross, singing, reading human and alien scripture passages. Their parents probably spurred some of this fervor.

It was a healing experience. David led the all purpose prayer for the confession of sins, implying without being specific that, despite being an unwilling participant in the kiss, he had still sinned in the heart.

At the end of this little service, Zadoori pulled Sarah and I aside. I expected him to mention something about David, but instead he muttered, "I've been researching what we discussed last night, and I believe we may have found a solution to your problem."

"What problem?"

Sarah said, "I asked him if he could figure out a way for you and I to safely reproduce."

I frowned. "I don't understand. We're not equipped for that."

"She means to bear your larva," Zadoori said.

I sighed, somewhat relieved, but mostly embarrassed and uncomfortable. For the first time, I felt I could understand what it must be like to be a customer at a fertility clinic. My pores flared. "What's your solution?"

"Obviously," said Zadoori. "You can't put the eggs down her throat without killing her, and laying eggs directly in her uterus would be disastrous, but the second idea still has possibilities. What I propose is that you discharge your egg into a sort of tough puncture resistant balloon. We place this balloon in her womb for awhile, monitoring it constantly to make sure both the mother and the larva remain alive and healthy."

"That sounds...interesting," I said. "But how would the larva derive nourishment?"

"The balloon would continually be filled with warm liquefied meat, the womb, of course, keeping it at body temperature like real human organs."

"And you're certain this...will all fit?"

He nodded. "I've done a scan of her reproductive organs. It seems they have been genetically enhanced. The opening appears to be wide enough to allow us to implant the balloon without a caesarian."

Now I was even more disturbed. "And how do you propose to collect my eggs for this...balloon?"

"If you can't figure out how to eject them on your own, we can coat a CPR practice dummy with a special acid resistant coating, and have you lay your eggs in its mouth. It's similar to the method they use to `assist' stud horses on earth."

"Why do you have a practice dummy?" Sarah asked. "Don't you use synthetic humans for that kind of stuff?"

"Synths are expensive. And after the coup in Woggerscutt, Christian organizations no longer received government funding, so we had to make do with what we could. It's just as well. Why ruin a perfectly good synthetic with Ss'sik'chtokiwij secretions?"

I silently stared at him for a moment. "This is a lot to think about."

"I'll say. We haven't even broached the topic of certain moral implications..."

"Moral implications? Like what?"

"Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, scripture is silent about relationships between humans and other intelligent species, but what we are proposing could be construed as sexual reproduction, one which, in fact, may produce offspring. Before you undergo this purposeful act of sexual reproduction, I think you should bring it before the Lord in prayer. Ask him if this is His will for you. Ask him if you and Sarah should marry, so as to be honorable in His sight."

Seeming to look right into my eyes, Sarah took my claw, clutching it tightly. "You think it's right before God?"

"I don't know. Which one of us would be the wife?"

I prayed over the subject of marriage and its associated appliances most fervently. It wasn't an easy decision. In all honesty, the marriage would help Sarah to keep her hands to herself, devoting her flesh to me, but that could cause more problems than it solved.

I know the "`til death do us part" in our wedding could be no time at all, but still I wondered whether it were necessary for us to marry.

Surely, kissing is a good and enjoyable experience for humans, one she values highly in a mate. This was not a service I could render unto her without causing painful burns.

Then, of course, there was the problem of the balloon. Would this so-called `puncture resistant' balloon be enough to protect her bodily organs from larval attack? Or would she get ripped apart anyway?

Sarah said she didn't care either way, but the way she kissed David...that didn't seem to be the act of someone so willing to die.

She deserved better.

A human male, like David, but unattached.

And what was she to me anyway? Certainly a friend, but one can be friends without marriage.

No, I was marrying a host body. A vessel. A receptacle.

It wasn't romantic or sexual. Our love was strictly familial.

It was just a Ss'sik'chtokiwij needing to discharge an egg, and a person willing to carry it. We would skip the romance and immediately be parents.

By committing herself wholly to me, she would be closing herself off forever from a vast world of beautiful tender human romance. I told God about this, then I told Zadoori. "It is like a woman donating a kidney to her dying sister. Or maybe, to put it in terms less dire..."

"Giving your infertile sister your ovaries," Zadoori finished.

"I don't want to deprive her of true human romance. Especially when she hasn't experienced real life for twenty years. What we have isn't that kind of love, and it can never be that kind of love."

Zadoori put a hand on my shell. "Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, based on what you said, I don't think a wedding is necessary."

"Really?"

He nodded. "This is not an easy procedure. It requires careful thought from start to finish, and could still cause a fatality. A normal sexual relationship requires practically no thought at all, hence the main reason for the commitments between God, man and wife. People don't think.

"No, my friend, this is a science experiment. Your species doesn't really have a male component. Your `wedding' is any way you can produce offspring with a willing volunteer that doesn't result in people's chests or other organs exploding."

This advice made my heart glad. "Can I see the dummy?"

You can guess what happened next.

"What are they doing?" Oxana asked me when he saw Sarah being worked on.

I opened my mouth, but before I could respond, the little girl said, "Ernie wants to have a baby without killing her. Ss'sik'chtokiwij don't have sex like everyone else. It's very dangerous."

The boy's eyes opened wide. "Oh!"

"This is disgusting," Pillow said as she stood over Sarah's naked body, draped with a sheet. "I can't believe we're doing this."

Her husband laughed. "You know, I've always heard people talking about having a bun in the oven, but this is the first time I've ever heard of someone trying to make pot roast!"

Sarah giggled hysterically.

Pillow scowled.

I actually did it. I impregnated a training dummy and they extracted the egg, placing it in the aforementioned balloon. Pillow and Mara got between the young woman's legs, injecting a heated meat and chemical preservative slurry with an alien food processor and a vacuum pump. They didn't even need to cut her open.

Sarah had straps across her chest and legs to hold her to the table in the event of gravity failure, but they were easy enough for her to remove, if she really wanted to. Their purpose had been explained.

Pillow was the only doctor onboard with training in female reproductive health services. That training had some human sized gaps, so they took Mara off piloting to assist the process.

"I must advise against this procedure," the android said for the second or third time in a row. "There is a high potential for infection. Foreign objects of this nature are not intended to be inserted into the female reproductive cavity."

[Page 15]

"It's my body, Mara," Sarah said, her voice husky and a little shaky due to the intimate nature of the process. "I can do with it what I want."

Pillow sighed. "Well, I suppose this keeps her out of trouble, at least." She made tsk noises, shaking her head. "I still can't believe we're doing this."

"You're right," David said. "It's gross. She is sooo definitely not my type. Remind me again why we can't place this balloon in a heated tank? Or an incubator?"

"Our egg is in the only large incubator on the ship, and she volunteered. It's a lot simpler than rigging up water temperature regulators and other life support machinery."

"It's okay if it kills me," Sarah said. "I don't mind. DAMBALLAH used to make me do stuff like this all the time."

The man looked at her with a pained expression.

"Besides babies, they took stuff out of my privates to make drugs. I think one of them was called, um, oxycontin."

Mara smiled. "You mean oxytocin."

Sarah frowned. "Of course you would know."

The smile faded.

David put his hands on his hips, frowning at the food processor. "I hope we won't be needing all that meat."

"Better is a dinner of herbs where love is than a fatted ox and hatred with it," Zadoori quoted as he checked a monitor.

David rolled his eyes. "Now why do I see months of vegetarian entrees in my future?"

Pillow wrapped her tail around him. "That wouldn't be so bad. Remember when we first met?"

He grinned. "Before I told you that I like my women curvy?"

She chuckled, "I can still be curvy, David."

David frowned at his own body. "I'm afraid I'll end up gaunt."

The doctors soon finished filling the balloon, inserting sensors and sealing it up with an automatic pump designed to push in additional slurry whenever the pressure dropped. They placed more sensors on the outside, including an advanced sort of sonogram that gave you a crystal clear video feed of the womb interior.

The larva still lay dormant in its egg sac.

I had been watching from the foot of the bed, but now Pillow was changing out of her jumpsuit, and Mara had already left for the cockpit, so I marched up to Sarah's side, staring as I tried to comprehend her thought processes.

"I feel like I'm back on a table at DAMBALLAH," she said. "But my arms and legs are free."

"I'm sorry. You don't have to do this."

"Don't be sorry. I wanted this. For once, I got to choose what goes in and comes out of me. I feel like a real mother."

She suddenly looked worried. "You'll let me hold her, won't you? When she's born? You won't take her away?"

"No. Not unless she tries to kill you."

Sarah sighed. "Even then, don't. I want my own baby to love and hold forever, even if it kills me, I want it." She clamped her hand around my claw. "The baby is ours, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik. Yours and mine. We'll teach her the human way of life, and the Ss'sik'chtokiwij way, and maybe she'll grow up just like you."

"That sounds great, Sarah. But I thought you were trying to transfer your mind into the larva."

"I am," she moaned. "I'm not thinking clearly. I think it's all these mommy chemicals going to my brain. Humans have very sensitive private parts and they just put a pot roast in mine."

A grown woman. Talking about mommy chemicals.

"Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, I've been thinking. That meat stuff they put in the balloon is just plain meat, right? Shouldn't they add some salt? Maybe a little broccoli and some carrots?"

I shuddered. I think she could tell, because she chortled through her nose about it.

"You seem to be taking this well. Aren't you scared? Even a little bit?"

"No. Kinda the opposite." She giggled uncontrollably. "I'm going to go off. I just know it. Would you mind if I went off?"

I just stared at her. "I don't understand what you mean."

"Sometimes it gets funny between my legs, and then I get this really good feeling rushing all up inside me. I...touch things, maybe I do it too much, I don't know. I think that's why they put me in the freezer. But I'm feeling that way again. If I even move my legs, I think something might happen."

I still didn't quite understand. I didn't have those kinds of feelings in that way. "Is this sort of like belching?"

"Um...not exactly."

"Sneezing. An involuntary response."

She chuckled. "You really don't know."

I shook my head. "I think I feel something when I lay eggs, but not what you describe."

"Lord," David commented. "A full grown adult and she sounds like she's twelve. These DAMBALLAH people must have really stunted her development."

He glanced at his wife. "You really think I'd pass you up for that?"

Pillow looked at him like he did.

"Pillow, she needs a father, not a boyfriend."

Sarah pursed her lip, pouting like she intended to cry.

"And anyone who willingly turns their cooch into an EZ Bake Oven..." He shook his head in disgust.

Sarah whimpered.

"David," I said. "Some of what you have just said about my friend appears to have hurt her feelings. Are you certain that speaking thusly is acceptable from a Christian standpoint?"

"Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik," David said. "There's a difference between crying because of verbal abuse, and crying because you want something you can't have."

The man grabbed his wife's hand. "Human or not, I don't want her tongue, Pillow. I want yours. This woman, this girl in a woman's body, she can't wrap my tongue up like a burrito like yours can. When we kiss, it's like a sexy octopus has grabbed me by the face, and I don't want it to let go! Nobody but you can give me that!"

Pillow giggled. "I love it when you embarrass yourself."

David grabbed the edge of his skirt and courtesied, making her giggle more.

The two kissed, and as they did, I noticed the female's tongue did sort of break apart like tentacles.

Sarah fingered her own tongue as she watched from the table, perhaps considering plastic surgery.

"Remember what Zadoori said," I told her. "God has created a mate for you. You must be patient and not covet."

She uttered a weak sigh in response.

I stayed by Sarah's side, observing her and the monitors for awhile.

My friend became restless, trying to get up.

"Stay on the table," Pillow scolded. "You're not pregnant, you're hooked up to an artificial placenta. If you move around too much, it could be fatal to you and the larva."

"I don't like this!" Sarah moaned like a petulant child.

Pillow shook her head in frustration. "Then you shouldn't have asked for it!" And then, under her breath, "Stupid human."

I could only wonder what her husband thought about that!

Oxana showed Sarah a Wava instruction module on his device. Since Sarah had nothing better to do on her back, she spent a few hours learning the nuances of the language and practicing with me.

"This is way better than DAMBALLAH," she said with a smile. "Here, I have friends."

Since Sarah had his toy, Oxana played a strange sort of electronic game with Sharad, one which involved coaxing uncooperative rodent-like insect holograms to stand in different formations, to make various symbols or patterns. The children would pick up their digital bodies, stacking them atop of one another, or objects, at times poking them or shouting commands until the bug did as instructed.

The small male stopped in the middle of the game to show Sarah the social media program again. "You learn a language by immersion."

And so Sarah spent some time greeting the various strangers on the device, trying to communicate. "I like this better than learning modules."

That kept her busy and connected to friendly individuals. I could see a few of the ones that properly understood her cringing a bit when she attempted to explain the medical procedure, but I guess others didn't know, for she had pleasant chats with them. I had to share the device with her, and the device was small, so I personally didn't get much out of it.

I had the urge to ask someone for sewing supplies, but the memory of my daughter's death made me hesitate, and I didn't want to impose.

I laid down on the floor next to the operating table.

"Can I paint your shell, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik?" Sharad asked.

"Yeah!" Oxana said. "We could tie some ribbons and tablodsas on your tail and paint you pink and purple and make you really pretty!"

"Please?" they said in unison.

[Page 20]

"Children," I purred. "I'm already pretty."

"We can make you prettier," the boy said. "Some nossihund would make you really cute."

This made me purr even more. "Oh very well."

Oxana tugged on my tail. "C'mon. The stuff is in mom's room."

I glanced apologetically at Sarah. "Will you be okay?"

She muttered something to the device, then giggled, only looking at me as an afterthought. "What?"

"The children are going to decorate me."

Sarah laughed. "This I have to see!"

"We'll show you when we're done," Oxana said. "You shouldn't move around while you're about to give birth."

"Okay." The young woman talked to the device some more. "These people are so real and interesting! I had no idea!"

I didn't know the children intended to get their art supplies from Mr. and Mrs. Bjorkin's room until they opened the door and I saw the parents on their jamassi, having sex.

Apparently the females cover the sides of their ribs with a harness to hide a set of reproductive tentacles designed to penetrate the male's row of orifices. The male also had bifurcated genitalia between his legs.

The female grunted like a ferret and clucked like a chicken, the male making rapid croaking sounds like an agitated toad.

"Children," I said. "I believe our presence here is socially inappropriate."

"It's okay," said Oxana. "We're not human."

"Mom and dad are married," said Sharad. "So it's okay in the sight of God, and us."

Oxana nodded. "Mom says it's instructive."

"Then I should not be here."

The boy only shrugged, opening a drawer on the wall.

"Naumona," Zadoori grunted like a guinea pig. "Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik and the kids are here."

Naumona's eyes twisted around, snake-like, poking out the back of her hair. "Did you need anything?" Notably, the female didn't even pause what she was doing to speak to me.

I shook my head. "I'm sorry to interrupt. The children just wanted to decorate me."

That made Naumona pause. Her eyes widened, stretching out in my direction, perhaps to get a better look. She laughed. "If you want paints, they're the fourth row across, fifth drawer down. I keep them in here to keep from making a mess."

Her eyes disappeared up front as she resumed the performance, letting out a loud chicken cluck.

"Don't worry, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik," Zadoori said. "When you have kids, you get used to having an audience."

In throes of passion, he uttered a loud guinea pig growl.

As I observed the two adults' activities, the boy prepared painting supplies.

"They seem very open about their sexuality."

Oxana looked bored. "That's what David said when he first spent the night with Pillow's family."

And so I...studied the mating ritual while the children painted me with brushes of various colors, Naumona scolding them a couple times about cleaning the brushes and making sure they cleaned up when they were done...never once pausing her lovemaking to do so.

I would not describe myself as being voyeuristic in the traditional sense. To me, this was merely an educational experience, in the same way it is educational for a human to watch recordings of copulating fruit flies.

The gravity suddenly stopped, causing the children's brush work to slop around in haphazard fashion. The inertia of the moving ship sent me drifting backwards into a wall.

The married couple didn't care. Naumona just giggled and kissed her husband as they continued their business in the air.

The microgravity lasted only a couple minutes before I heard a mechanical whine, a grinding sound, and found myself crashing to the floor, splotching up the swirling gray surface with wet paint.

The married couple thumped down behind their jamassi, giggling at each other.

The children grinned as they resumed their game of covering my exoskeleton with bright colors and tying colorful things to it, but I didn't think much of it until I heard the adults laughing.

By this time, Zadoori and Naumona had concluded their reproductive activity, snuggling in one another's arms. When the female shifted her position in the alien bed, she stared at me like I had, in fact, violated her privacy. "That's the wrong paint."

"What do you mean?" I stammered.

"They used permanent paint instead of the water soluble."

"Perhaps it is for the best," I sighed. "People always did have problems telling me apart from other Ss'sik'chtokiwij."

The children showed me a mirror. I looked like a tie dyed Hawaiian shirt.

They'd painted flowers on me, large brilliant blobs of color, amidst the accidental sloppings.

"C'mon," Oxana said. "Let's show your friend."

The first thing Sarah said when I walked up to her was, "I went off. I hope it won't confuse the larva."

I really didn't know how to respond to that.

She burst out laughing when she noticed my new paint job.

"Oh Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik! You're beautiful!"

I purred, somewhat pleased to be the comedian for once.

She laughed some more. "I think I just figured out how to go to pee with this thing in me."

Pillow now lay on a nearby couch, in her husband's arms, chattering to someone on a communication device. I believe she would have gone elsewhere, had she not been needed to assist the patient at a moment's notice. I suspected she resented this, but she maintained her facade, looking pleasant.

Sarah, I believe, out of jealousy, resented her.

Big Bird materialized next to Sarah, pointing her needle beak at me. "Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, I currently am experiencing what humans commonly describe as an existential crisis, and I require your emotional and philosophical insight on the matter."

I gawked at her. Big Bird had never really told me about her problems or asked me for advice on anything. "You're my friend. I'll help any way I can."

Big Bird sighed and lowered her head like she'd just discovered that Snuffaluphagus wasn't real. "What do I do with my life?"

"Big Bird..." I stammered.

"I assisted systems on the base and this ship because I felt I had to. In addition to maintaining the systems responsible for preserving my consciousness, I thought if I assisted humans on the base, stabilizing and repairing their systems, I would experience the thing called happiness and/or fulfillment. But I also have...freedom.

"I don't have to work all the time. I can choose what to do, and when. I can do absolutely anything! Can you even comprehend the ramifications of such an immensely vast and complicated operating environment?"

"Life is hard to understand," I agreed. "I can sympathize with your predicament."

Gravity stopped again, but I grabbed some ladder rungs set in the floor, stopping my backwards drift.

Sarah giggled as she drifted an inch above the table. Without the restraints, she would have flown off the table and unplugged everything.

Big Bird continued to speak, unconcerned about the gravity. "I have been presented with a decision tree that extends infinitely in every direction, and none of the choices seem to be one hundred percent correct, or valid, or even better than the others. I have spent days contemplating the writings of great philosophers and all world religions, and it hasn't helped. For example, what do I do with the time I have? It can be both finite and available in vast quantities, depending on what I choose. Is it more correct for me to specialize in medical diagnosis or poetry?"

Gravity resumed, giving me a jarring bump as I made contact with the floor. "Big Bird, you're gifted with computers. Your services are irreplaceable."

"I know." Big Bird said this without any arrogance. "But what do I want?"

[Page 25]

"That is something only you can answer, Big Bird."

"I am concerned about making mistakes. When I do not know all the end nodes of a decision tree, I cannot select the correct options to ensure the best possible outcome. How am I supposed to accomplish anything when I have insufficient data to make a decision?"

I sighed. "That is a natural part of life. You choose to do what you think is best before God and man, and live with the mistakes."

"Very well. I choose to ask you to petition your God on my behalf."

I purred, not believing what I was hearing.

Big Bird looked sad. "I...think I have just made a mistake."

"No, no. What did you want me to...petition?"

The creature straightened, perhaps becoming cheerful. "I wish to have...instruction. Several of God's commandments do not apply to me, such as adultery, hate, or the non-consumption of shellfish. They also do not give precise directions on career (i.e. vocation) or social situation. As God, He should know the outcome of events beforehand, and therefore should be more specific about the positive and negative consequences of such important life decisions, and provide more details on how to correctly proceed."

"If God did that, we wouldn't have free will, and we wouldn't have the freedom to love."

"You'd be like me," Sarah agreed. "Forced to live a life you might not want."

"Why would you not want it? Literature states that God reads minds and fulfills every need."

"Yes, but if God did what you suggest, nobody would have a personality. We would all be like machines."

Big Bird started crying. "But I am a machine!"

"You are a creature made of energy. Machines don't have existential crises."

"She's more than that," Sarah said. "She's a friend."

The mutant avian's invisible crying switch snapped to the off position. No transition between moods. "Thank you."

Big Bird froze, apparently lost in thought. "Your insight has been extremely valuable to my development as an independently thinking lifeform. You have my deepest and most sincere thanks." She disappeared into the device.

"What will you do now, Big Bird?"

"Make mistakes," her disembodied voice replied.

A minute or so afterward, the ship started making strange noises, its lights flashing ominously.

At first, I thought we were having mechanical problems, like Big Bird had decided to destroy us all, but then I started noticing...patterns.

The ship was performing an improvised jazz composition.

No instruments. No clever trick with the speaker system. It seemed Big Bird simply manipulated devices all over the ship, timing their distinct noise with others to create melodies.

Sarah laughed, clapping her hands in appreciation.

The whole crew came down to the lab, frowning as they examined the flashing lights.

"What the hell is going on!" Zadoori shouted.

I opened my mouth to explain, but Big Bird answered first. "I call it `0100011001110010011001010110110100100000'. It is a play on words, or rather numbers, because some very beautiful machine parts at the processing station share this designation, and I have an emotional connection between it and 01001100011011110111011001100101'."

Zadoori stared at me, then the computers, then me again.

"Big Bird is trying to be herself," I said. "She suddenly found out she has free will."

He sighed. "All right, Big Bird. Have your fun. Just don't have fun with our life support systems or fly us into the sun."

"I wouldn't do that. You are all my friends."

The music wasn't terrible. In fact, it probably was too good to be creative, but if that's what the bird wanted to do...

The upset and distress everyone felt at the disturbance was somewhat tempered by my clown-like appearance, making the situation somewhat like theater.

As Big Bird's stylings continued, Naumona, Oxana and Sharad pulled out benches, listening appreciatively. The others left the room.

Pillow had to stay near the patient, but was trying very hard to ignore Big Bird, showing her husband three dimensional pictures in a holographic photo album. However, even the album seemed to dance to the music.

Naumona stood up. "I forgot. Humans like something called `three squares.'"

She marched to the patient's side. "Would you like some lunch?"

Sarah nodded, but then blurted, "No thanks, ma'am. I've already got a belly full of pot roast." She laughed.

Naumona cleared her throat. "I'll fix something for you anyway. In case you change your mind."

She climbed upstairs.

Big Bird stopped the music for a moment. "Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, do I have a soul?"

I shrugged. "I do not know the answer to that question."

In response, Big Bird played a rather somber melody from Bach.

Naumona returned with a sandwich, Wusu on Muloyi, a type of bread with what appeared to be noodles or bits of squid in it. Despite her joke about being full, Sarah ate it greedily.

Oxana got up. "Umma, do you think we're at the planet yet?"

"I don't know, foqipi," Naumona said. "Why don't you go visit aunt Thonwa in the cockpit and see?"

I stared in puzzlement. "He's related to Thonwa?"

"Only in Jesus."

Oxana stomped up to me. "You want to see the cockpit, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik?"

I glanced at Sarah and found her fast asleep with the boy's computer clutched to her chest. "All right."

For a moment, I thought we were actually outside the ship. The cockpit stood on a raised island in the middle of a spherical chamber, the walls one big continuous monitor, giving a 360 degree view of the section of space we traveled through.

The boy led me across a bridge to the island, showing me the three control chairs.

The chairs all had tail slots in the back, connecting to steering yokes that did not appear to be usable without such prehensile appendages.

Zadoori's tail rested on his yoke as he rolled a track ball-like control on his armrest.

It turns out Thonwa had a tail, too, one that shared attributes with both an iguana and the stinger tentacles of a Portuguese Man O' War, translucent white threads stretching out of the green scaly muscles, tugging the yoke toward the chair. I felt my insides shifting a little as she did this.

Mara sat in the central chair with plugs and painful looking objects stuck in her skull, calmly pushing buttons on a monitor attached to her headrest.

"How close are we now?" Oxana asked.

"A light year closer than we were the last time you asked," Zadoori muttered.

"We're a little closer than that." Thonwa pointed to a couple glowing dots the size of marbles. "That's the star system over there. Humans call it the Neroid sector. I believe the suns are named after myths, Clotho and Lachesis, if I remember correctly."

"Any change in our patient?" Zadoori asked me.

"None," I said. "She's asleep. I'm never sure about Ss'sik'chtokiwij gestation periods, but it doesn't look like it's hatching yet."

"Sensors detect no change in the Ss'sik'chtokiwij embryo," Mara said.

Zadoori frowned at me. "Has anyone of your species ever had a stillbirth? A dud egg?"

I swallowed hard. "I've heard rumors. It is not outside the realm of possibility."

Smoothing her headdress, Thonwa disengaged her tail from the control mechanism and got up. "Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, I have something for you. A little welcoming gift."

"Wow! Really?"

She nodded.

Thonwa led me to a room across the hall from Zadoori and Naumona's. The place was as monastic as the others, except this one featured a small display containing a plant in an orange solution, apparently grown in microgravity due to its random looking root placement.

She only had two pictures on the wall, one of her father, the other a boyfriend, clad in a black headdress, both deceased. She told me this while I looked.

[Page 30]

Thonwa handed me a large puck shaped metal container embossed with the images of animal species I had never seen before.

She showed me the contents, needles of various sizes, darning needles, a darning egg, a threading key, a thimble, a needlepoint frame, crochet hooks, and a wide assortment of other related craft supplies.

That was only half the container. The other portion consisted of stuff that would never make an appearance at Hobby Lobby, exotic tools whose function I could not comprehend. "I received this as a Christmas gift a long time ago. But I confess I have neither the skills nor the inclination, especially when I have one of these." She pointed to a device that looked like a crimping iron.

"What's that thing?"

Thonwa grabbed her headdress with two claws, as if she intended to rip it, but then stopped herself. "Actually, perhaps I should demonstrate in a way that doesn't involve me exposing myself." She tucked something wiggling and pink back under her head covering.

She ripped a sheet of scrap cloth down the center, then clamped the device on the rip. The fabric mended itself and closed up, looking like it had never been torn.

Thonwa let me practice it a few times, then closed it in the case, draping the kit's strap around my shoulder plates.

She gave me a satchel full of yarn and other things for the kit. "No sense in me keeping this stuff, either. I prefer knitting together machinery, anyway."

"Wow. Thank you, Thonwa. I'll...take care of it."

She patted me on the back. "I'm just happy to give it to someone who actually has a use for it."

I returned to Sarah's side, eagerly starting work on a needlepoint pattern, one of a great winged creature with Abreyas on it.

"What's that?" Sarah said.

"A...Grunkiahu, I think."

She watched me sew for a few moments, then drifted off again.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. I played with my new toys, I joined the crew at `evening' worship and ate dinner with them, took another sandwich to Sarah.

The gravity went out twice, but I and the patient were getting used to it.

Big Bird, of course, made herself somewhat of a nuisance. Zadoori and the others had to tell her repeatedly to decrease the volume of her music.

When it came for worship time, I thought this would result in unpleasant conflict, but Thonwa arrived at a brilliant solution to the problem. "If you must provide us with music, could you please keep it quiet until it is time to sing?"

Big Bird surprised everyone with a jazzy version of How Great Thou Art.

The music got a little quieter after service, as if Big Bird understood that the creatures needed rest.

It became late. Sarah fell asleep. My Grunkiahu now looked pretty good.

I've typed this on holographic keys Big Bird has generated for me, because it would be unwise to verbalize some of my opinions within the earshot of my crewmates. Big Bird can still read it, but she might find the experience of being offended novel.

Let me know if I'm wrong, Big Bird.

Gogela 44

Since my eggs till lay dormant in my friend's body, I slept next to the operating table, keeping my friend company.

Early this morning, I got awakened rather unpleasantly by the gravity machinery going out and inertially throwing me into a wall. I curled up next to that wall to continue my rest with less disturbance.

Sarah kept trying to get up. She created this problem herself, of her own choosing, but it doesn't stop her from complaining and sometimes crying about it. I've heard that pregnancy does make you emotional, so I don't know what to think.

When I came back from early worship (the terms `morning' and `evening' don't really apply in spaceships), Sarah told me she felt lonely and isolated during services.

I brought my concern to Zadoori, and he agreed to have worship in the lab instead.

Also, Thonwa instructed me on the art of alien sewing. One form of craft, called Quessteb, involves a liquid which dries into a solid thread when you `Quesse'.

Although she still made music, Big Bird seemed to be experimenting with vocation. Poetry began appearing on random monitors at random times during the day, sometimes not in binary form.

Gogela 48

I haven't typed anything for awhile because I told you everything of interest already. I have spent much time with the crew, learned many things about their lives and families, but that could be a book in itself. Another time, perhaps.

I've gotten used to the gravity problems, making a regular habit of strapping myself down for bed every `evening.'

Each day, my natural secretions weaken the pigments the children applied to my shell, but they still haven't gone away. Instead, the chemical breakdown gives me a sort of cracked decoupage effect, which may be an improvement.

The crew became used to me and my companions, and I they. I had a wonderful sense of belonging, like I were part of a family. It's refreshing to stay with individuals that aren't afraid of me.

I have immensely enjoyed our gatherings at mealtime, our devotions, our worship services. Although it is somewhat stuffy to be confined in this space vehicle for days on end, it is luxurious compared to my cells at the laboratory.

I haven't been this happy in a long time.

Gogela 49

I got awakened by Oxana shouting, "We're here! We're here!"

"Already?" Sarah groaned sleepily.

"Where's here?" I asked.

"You know! Fury 161! C'mon! I'll show you!"

Sarah tried to get up, but I pushed her back down on the table.

"Stop. Remember what Pillow said."

She sighed. "It's not fair. Why did God make us like this?"

"I don't know." I could have mentioned she was cloned, but the point was moot. Man doesn't make a clone, he just uses God's building blocks to build something similar to what already exists.

"I've been meaning to ask God why he designed me with the ability to lay eggs in people's chests, but the last couple times I saw heaven, I..." I couldn't think of the right words. "I don't know. I just didn't."

Mara, who had been adjusting Sarah's medical equipment, activated a screen on the ceiling., revealing a view of a large earth-like planet.

"It seems kind of dark," Sarah muttered.

"We're in space." I pointed to the edge of the planet. "Fiorina is blocking the sunlight."

"No. I mean, it's not brightly colored. Those clouds look almost gray, or orange."

"This planet is used for mineral ore refining," Mara said. "They operate beyond the range of environmental regulation agencies, allowing them to conduct business without the expense of air and water pollution safeguards. You are viewing the waste product of successful business."

"`Spose it's better than a dead rock."

"LV 426 had an excellent start on an atmosphere before the explosion."

"One I never saw."

Mara didn't respond.

The planet grew larger and larger. I marched into the cockpit to take a better look.

Our ship crossed the atmosphere of the planet, passing through dense sooty black and nicotine yellow clouds. The craft shook from the turbulent gusts of wind.

Oxana stood next to his father, taking in the sights.

"Not a single flying creature anywhere," Zadoori breathed. "Not a Nehiltuk, a Boruhgel, or even a sparrow. I'd expect that from an asteroid, but not a planet this size."

For a few minutes, we saw nothing but dark clouds, but then they cleared, and I could see oceans and land.

I have never seen an ocean before. These were black and probably polluted with crude oil and other chemicals, but it was still beautiful to look at. The land, well, it was mostly dead wasteland.

As I gazed at my surroundings, Mara got into the center chair, plugging devices into her skull.

[Page 35]

"We are being hailed," Mara suddenly blurted.

"Do we have a video feed?" Zadoori asked.

"Negative. Their equipment does not appear to have that functionality."

"Unidentified craft," growled a grumpy duck-like British voice. "This is Superintendent

Harold Andrews of the Fury 161 Penitentiary. State your business."

Zadoori and Thonwa glanced at each other.

The Abreya pushed a button on his armrest. "Hi. This is the IMS Iberet, seeking to share the good news of Jesus with the lost spirits in prison."

"You're barking up the wrong tree," the voice said. "Your so-called `spirits' have already converted."

"Hallelujah," Thonwa whispered.

"Then we wish to fellowship with them," Zadoori said. "And supply what is lacking in their faith."

A long pause followed. "Have you any...other supplies?"

"Silver and gold not I have," Zadoori said. "But such as I have I, will give."

I heard a sigh.

"Go to Landing Pad B, shut off all engines, and await the landing party."

Thonwa clapped her hands. "Oh excellent!"

"Yes, sir," Zadoori said with a grin. "We'll be happy to meet you."

"We'll see how happy you are once you land."

"I find it extremely unlikely that all five thousand inmates have converted to Christianity," Mara said.

"Oh, I don't know," Zadoori said. "Our Lord can do great and wonderful things."

Thonwa flipped her track ball, shifted her yoke. "Still, you might be right. We may still have work to do here, as in any allegedly `Christian' country."

Zadoori squinted at his monitors. "So where is this Landing Pad B?"

Mara pushed some buttons on her computer. "There is only one landing pad."

We passed the cloud cover. A cluster of gray buildings materialized in the middle of the lifeless waste, a large concrete cube framed by factories and other flat rectangular buildings. I could see underwater drilling rigs and satellite dishes, all of it dingy gray or black.

Thonwa fingered her proboscis. "Not very colorful, is it?"

Zadoori laughed. "I think Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik should brighten things up a bit!"

"You're right. She is wearing the whole rainbow."

"There are several ultraviolet colors not represented in Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik's decoration," Mara said. "But if you are referring to the visible spectrum, you are mostly correct."

"My Neflah has ultraviolet weavings," Thonwa said. "So I think we also have that covered."

"Yes. The design is an interesting departure from the Gestalt principle."

I'm not sure that was a compliment, but Thonwa thanked her anyway.

"How is Sarah doing?" I asked the android.

"No change in the larva. She is with Naumona and Sharad, observing our descent."

The cube grew in size as we descended, a rather drab, forbidding, artless structure with few windows, no landscaping, and locked, barred and bolted security doors everywhere.

Directly out in front of this compound, a raised sort of dock stood along the black ocean, a fading cross in the middle indicating where we should land.

Dead plants, loose topsoil, dust blowing wild in the wind.

When we touched down, Oxana shouted, "I want to go out and see!"

Zadoori climbed out of his chair. "Foqipi, I'd love to take you along, but we don't know that it's safe yet. Some criminals do bad things to children."

"I am an Abreya," Oxana said. "I do not have a human physiology."

"That doesn't mean you are safe."

The landing party consisted of me, Zadoori, Thonwa, David and Mara. Pillow and Naumona would stay behind to watch the children, and Sarah, to inform us about the larva's progress and make sure the young woman didn't get up.

"I want to go too!" Sarah protested when I told her our plans. "I'm tired of being cooped up in here!"

"I'm sorry. You want this larva to live, don't you?"

She sighed. "At least this one is mine."

"Perhaps you could think of a good name for her while you wait," I suggested.

"How about Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik?"

I shook my head.

Pillow kissed her husband. "Hurry back. I can't warm the baby and watch Ms. EZ Bake at the same time."

"You could bring the egg down here..." Sarah said.

Pillow paused and thought for a moment. "I don't believe that's safe. We'll have to make do with the incubator."

I followed my team down the entry ramp, out onto the weathered concrete landing pad.

No one had bothered to change clothing, not even the human. I guess they visited a lot of prisons on Pathilon, and expected something similar. The wind whipped at their skirts.

David, apparently not prepared for the cool temperature, shivered and rubbed his arms. "I thought you said it was warm out here."

"I said it was comfortable," Zadoori said.

"You have a fur coat."

Zadoori cleared his throat. "Yes."

The Abreya stared at me for a moment, then frowned at the sewing kit I carried. "Thonwa, isn't that the Christmas present I gave you last year?"

"It is more blessed to give than to receive," the Cijmabsan said.

"Next year, you will be receiving socks."

David laughed. "Sounds better than those scented `hair care' products you got for her a couple years back. Before then, I'd never seen a Cijmabsan blush!"

"How would you respond if someone handed you a wrapped package of sex lubricant?" Thonwa asked.

"I'd say, `Thank you, Pillow!'"

Zadoori was not as amused. "We had...an interesting discussion."

Through the blowing dust, I could see four bald figures approaching, at the lead, a big heavy set man in a dark jacket, army pants and a green shirt.

To one side, he had an associate that reminded me strongly of Gorman from the Space Marines. Big bulbous head, little ears, little round nose, baseball cap. I expected him to start talking about `wabbits.' He dressed similar to the leader, but he wore a white shirt.

At the rear came two bony men with sunken eyes in green cable knit shirts and camo pants.

The moment the fat man got close, he let out a hearty guffaw, slapping his knee. "Boys, would you look at that! The bleedin' circus is in town!"

[0000]

2018 Author's note:

I watched Alien 3 all the way through for the first time since the 1990's, and discovered it's impossible for Ernie to exist in the original scenario. The movie hinges on there being only one alien, and nobody believing Ellen when she says that the aliens exist. It's all about her exterminating a single, very tough alien.

Already we have a problem.

Further compounding the problem is that Alien 3 is filled with similar looking people, so it's hard for me to tell which is which, especially when the director doesn't let you get to know the people very well. Therefore, I have been forced to jump the shark on a tricycle with monster truck tires. Maybe Ernie should have gone to Pathilon after all.

Speaking of which, read chapter # ("Strange Planet") for an alternate plotline where they don't go to the prison, and delay putting the larva in Sarah's body.

I made this chapter long because I wanted to cram the most interesting bits of Abreya life (and the best bits of a novel I wrote about Abreyas) into it, but also include important stuff about Alien 3.

[0000 Prison Mission: Part 2]

"Don we now our gay apparel," someone joked.

The big man and his companions all had a good laugh at our expense.

I recognized the leader by his voice. Harold Andrews.

Smiling, Zadoori stepped forward, offering his tail. "Missionary Zadoori Borkin. we spoke over the channel."

Andrews coughed, cleared his throat, and stared at us. "You're serious. You're the missionaries?"

Zadoori nodded. "We are the Intergalactic Missionary League."

Andrews puffed out his chest, folding his arms behind his back as he marched around each individual in our group. He didn't say anything, but the way he snorted through his nose and peered at us like museum exhibits indicated he had difficulty accepting what he was seeing.

He lifted up Thonwa's headdress, exposing a cluster of dangling fleshy muscles. The Cijmabsan responded by slapping his hand away and tucking the organs beneath their veil.

Andrews grabbed Zadoori's tail, attempting to cinch it up like a bullwhip before the Abreya snatched it out of his clutches.

And then the man poked my shell with a fat finger. When a piece of paint flaked off, he rubbed it between his digits thoughtfully.

"Carl Sagan was right!" he breathed. "There is intelligent life out in those billions upon billions of galaxies!"

"Francis Drake thought of it first," David said. "But neither of them were open minded or imaginative enough to think that maybe God had something to do with it."

"Or that aliens might be sinners in need of a savior," Zadoori said.

"Guess who that savior is," said David.

Andrews snorted. "You mean to tell me that you worship a long haired bum that died more than three thousand years ago."

"No, I worship a long haired bum that rose from the dead more than three thousand years ago."

I heard some amens.

Andrews scowled, crossing his arms. "To be perfectly honest, I'm a bit disappointed. Four seemingly intelligent beings from faraway planets, and you're feeding me the same load of horse shit everyone else in this insane asylum has been feeding me for two decades!"

"Perhaps the Lord is trying to tell you something."

The big man sighed and shook his head. "I suspect you will get along famously with the other inmates. The thought that scares me is that you might get along with them too well."

He cleared his throat. "Presuming this isn't a hallucination brought on by bad bread, and you creatures are actually real, tell me about yourselves. What kind of skills do you have? Is it mainly song and dance, or can you repair things?"

Noticing a rip in one of the men's sleeves, I opened my kit, taking out a mending device. "I believe this might interest you..."

I marched up to the man with the torn shirt. He flinched, looking like he intended to run away, but I told him I meant no harm.

The man tensed up like he were about to receive a shot from a large needle, but allowed me to place the device on his torn sleeve, re-threading the damage.

The big man and his companions gawked at my work. "Clever. What other magic tricks can you do?"

Zadoori showed the man some other useful things, a wide variety of alien food and cooking spices, which they sampled, a wound patching medical device, some rolls of fabric, and a laser knife that Andrews said should never be shown to inmates.

I heard Zadoori mutter something in Wava about a gun, but David told him not to.

"Do you have any other weapons?" Andrews asked.

David locked eyes with Zadoori, shook his head. "Yok."

"No," the Abreya said.

Honest or not, I thought it wise for them not to have significant weapons.

Andrews narrowed his eyes at us, as if he suspected something, but said nothing.

David plowed ahead with the apparent deception. "We're a missionary ship. All our weapons are spiritual."

Zadoori gave him a nod. "The Sword of the Spirit."

"We are in the business of saving souls," Thonwa added. "Not destroying them."

Zadoori showed him some small live animals, for food purposes, a few other types of textiles, then demonstrated a device that created holographic movies, and the communications device, both of which the found very interesting.

"I'd like to have those," Andrews said. "If you don't mind."

Zadoori glanced at David, who nodded, muttering something about them not knowing how to use the items anyway, and how it would be a witnessing opportunity.

"The men will enjoy a little video entertainment," Andrews said.

David laughed. "If they're in need of rest!"

"Our films are non-linear," Zadoori explained. "You may find them...slow."

"Actually, they're too linear."

"My people have long attention spans," Zadoori said.

"We can play them outside the cells before lights out." Andrews paused and thought a moment. "All right. You've convinced me. You do have something to contribute, unlike that group that came here three months ago. Seemed absolutely convinced that they didn't have to bring their own supplies just because there's some cockamamie bible verse saying not to carry a purse or an extra cloak with ye!"

He sighed, introduced himself, and Aaron, his Elmer Fudd-like companion. "We're in charge of this facility. Our word is law around here. Stay on our good side, don't cause any trouble, and I promise you'll enjoy your visit, however brief."

"The men are going to love this food," Aaron said. "They don't get much variety."

"Looks...like we're going to need some extra help in the kitchen," said a mouse-like man. "Don't know many recipes for...Wusu."

"It turns green when it's done," David said. "You cook it just like beef or pork. It's very versatile. You can even eat it sushi style, but you have to avoid serving the mulbelvu."

"It appears we have a new chef," Andrews said.

"Great! When can I start?"

"Any time that you're ready."

With a shrug, David marched toward the building.

"Wait," Aaron said. "You're not seriously going to wear that in there, are you?"

"Um, yeah?"

Aaron grimaced. "These men haven't seen a single female in decades. My concern is that if they see someone in a dress, male or female, they might get confused, if you catch my meaning."

"These are not dresses," Zadoori said. "They are Wighesh."

Harold shook his head. "Call it what you want, but if you persist in wearing them, you may soon be the recipient of much...unwanted attention."

David frowned. "Oh. Right. Been away from earth too long."

"You'll have to change clothing," Aaron said. "Wear whatever you want for your performances, but you don't want to stroll around the prison in those outfits. We have plenty of spare uniforms you can wear."

David waved his hands dismissively. "That's okay. I've got my own stuff in the ship. You know, nice clothes. Jeans. That kind of thing."

Harold frowned. "If I were you, I wouldn't wear anything nice. Even here, people don't always behave in a Christian manner. Someone might get jealous."

"It would be disharmonious," Zadoori agreed.

David laughed. "You haven't seen my wardrobe." He gave his skirt a tug. "This is as fancy as I get."

The big man looked disgusted. "Also, in the interest of public health, I require all of you to remove those furry costumes at once and shave all the hair from your bodies. This prison had a lice problem."

"You ask a difficult thing," Zadoori said. "These are not costumes, as you say, but our natural coats."

Andrews grunted unpleasantly in response. "Unless you have a method to repel lice, your not shaving poses a genuine health concern. If you work around here any length of time, you're bound to pick up a nit, or, in your case...dozens."

Zadoori, David and Thonwa stopped, murmuring amongst themselves. Part of this discussion involved an explanation of the human variant of lice.

"This is a ...tall order," Zadoori said.

"No one asked you to come visit," Andrews said. "You are guests at my prison, and as guests you are expected to follow our guidelines, or you can turn around and go back the way you came from."

"Fine," David said. "We'll take care of it." He didn't say when he would take care of it, he just said he would.

David and Zadoori had a discussion in Wava for a minute, then both disappeared into the craft.

The big man eyed me with suspicion. "So you're the...seamstress of the group, I take it?"

"Yes sir. I enjoy working with fabric. If more of my kind pursued hobbies of this kind, the universe would be a lot less violent."

"Have you ever been violent?" Andrews asked.

I nodded sadly. "I have killed both human beings and Ss'sik'chtokiwij. I am the only one among my crewmates who actually deserves to be locked up in your prison."

He chortled. "My prison is for capital offenders. Terrorists. Felons who have murdered large amounts of people."

"I believe I qualify."

"If that were true," Aaron said. "We'd jail mountain lions. This is a prison, not a zoo."

The suspicious look on Harold's face told me something different. "We have a nice place in solitary I think you'll enjoy."

Aaron gawked at him.

"What? If anyone acts up, we throw him to the mountain lion."

He glowered at Thonwa. "What about you? Anything I should know?"

"I have an Ifronmi from Qatbisaj. It's like a mechanics degree."

"A mechanic! Excellent! We could use some mechanical help around here. Especially around the factory."

"I am also qualified in that regard," Mara said. "I am programmed to service more than ninety thousand types of mechanical and electronic devices."

"Showoff," Thonwa muttered.

Harold frowned. "We don't allow women in this prison."

"I am a synthetic human. I have adequate programming in combat and self defense."

Harold gave her a reluctant nod. "You had better be synthetic, or you're going to have a rough time."

A few minutes later, the two males returned in more presentable attire, the human in jeans, an imitation leather jacket, and a Jesus t-shirt . The Abreya wore purple leggings and a white tunic with a fan collar.

Harold rolled his eyes, leading us into the building, an ancient structure with cracked, crumbling concrete walls marred with soot and dust.

We saw no guards around the entry corridor, and the gates seemed rather easy to open. I mentioned this to Andrews.

"I always tell my prisoners that they are free to leave at any time. Once a year, I send a survey crew to bring in the skeletons of the last men who made the attempt. Consider it an object lesson."

He took a deep breath. "The Visitation Pavilion, however, we keep under lock and key."

David laughed. "Is it ever used?"

"Not for many years. A conjugal chamber was added on account of a certain far reaching Supreme Court case, but extenuating circumstances prevented it from ever being used...by the rightful parties, at least."

"Which reminds me. That spaceship of yours...you got that thing solidly locked up?"

Zadoori nodded. "I believe the security measures are adequate."

"They'd better be!...Unless you'd prefer an extended stay."

"It seems very quiet for a prison of five thousand people," Zadoori said.

"Done your homework, eh? You're bloody right it's quiet. The Weyland corporation cut funding on this operation a couple years ago. We don't get shipments here like we used to. Often times we rely on charities or our own meager skills to feed and clothe our men. Admittedly, there's not that many here anyway..."

"Ah."

We continued on. "I assume that you know that we run a maximum security prison. You're not going to meet ordinary criminals here. The only ones we have here are, as the Americans say, `Federal cases.' Each and every one of them involve some form of murder, and not just the simple kind. We're talking serial. Some are crimes against the crown, or serial manslaughter, but, by and large, it's killing. Do you know what a Double Y Chromosome means?"

David smirked. "Um, an increased fascination with men and interior design?"

Andrews grimaced in disgust. "No. According to the latest scientific research, a Double Y indicates a significantly higher propensity toward homicide and other serious crimes."

David sighed and shook his head. "They outlaw discrimination based on race, gender and sexual orientation, but they keep it going on a molecular level. Hypocritical much?"

"I didn't make up the rules. I just get fucked by them."

We crossed an intersecting corridor, entering a vast sort of cafeteria, long and white, with a low ceiling and rows of windows looking out into open courtyards. It had a strangely futuristic look to it that reminded me of a spaceship. The room was largely empty, save for a couple bald prisoners washing tables, and a black man with glasses studying a bible.

We approached the latter, seated in a corner near a window. At first, he didn't even notice we were there.

Revelation. The passage about the great dragon rising out of the sea. He had out a study book and a notepad crafted from rough handmade paper, scribbling something down with a primitive looking ink pen.

"Dillon," Andrews said. "We have visitors. Would you be so kind as to give them the grand tour?" The man's tone of voice said it was an order, not a request.

The sight of me gave the man such a start that he fell off his bench and hit the floor.

"Oh my God," he cried as he righted himself.

"It seems there is life on other planets," Andrew said. "And, in an ironic twist of fate, they apparently worship the same God as you do."

I helped Dillon up. "I think the NIV translation is easier to follow."

He gawked at me. "You read the bible?"

I nodded. "And I believe what it says."

"The angels!" Dillon breathed in reverent awe. "Divine servants of the Lord Most High!" Tell me, archangel. When will Christ come to take us to his heavenly abode?"

"I don't know."

Dillon took this as some sort of deep theological truth. "`And ye shall know neither the day nor the hour'! Of course! I've been such a fool!"

Personally, I thought he shouldn't be using past tense, but it was not for me to say.

Andrews looked annoyed. "I'll let you get acquainted." He marched off.

Dillon frowned at the android. "You shouldn't bring women in here. It's not safe. Bad things will happen."

"She's a synthetic human," Zadoori said. "She'll be fine."

Dillon furrowed his brow. "She's a...machine?"

The Abreya nodded. "Guep."

"The man says you can give us a tour of the facility, maybe introduce us to the inmates."

Dillon stared at the human, mouth agape. "`And I saw one with the appearance of the Son of Man...'"

Mr. Barnes raised his hands defensively. "Whoa! Hey! Um, do not worship me, for I too am a man?" He pointed to the Jesus on his shirt. "Worship this guy, buddy, okay?"

"We came to fellowship with the brethren," Zadoori said. "The Christians in this prison."

David gave him a nod. "Show us around, dude."

The first thing he showed us was the chapel, a simple, rather cheap arrangement.

Windowless, square and gray, the room looked like it used to be something else, a fallout shelter, perhaps. It contained only four rows of aluminum pews. The rest of the congregation, it appeared, had to sit on metal folding chairs. No font. No electronic devices. They had battered hymn boards, hymnals that were coming apart at the bindings. The only decoration consisted of altar paraments, and the large aluminum cross bolted to the wall.

The paraments were green. According to the church calendar, that meant Ordinary Time, not Advent as I originally supposed. In other words, not Christmas. Of course, they were out in the middle of nowhere, so I couldn't say for certain whether their measurement of time was any more accurate than mine.

"The people who built this prison were not very religious," Dillon said. "They put this in as an afterthought, to comply with governmental regulations. Something about human rights and rehabilitation.

"Originally it was just an empty room, a square on a blueprint that said Interfaith Chapel. Something to show investors that they played lip service to Federal regulations."

Zadoori and Thonwa shook their heads sadly.

"It didn't even have pews," Dillon said. "They were using it as a store room. But then a representative from a small Lutheran organization stopped by, and a few months later, we got the altar, the pews and the cross. `Trouble was, they hadn't budgeted for transportation. They went bankrupt. They shipped us the hymnals and a few other things, but that was it."

"A church is not a building," said Mr. Barnes. "It's a people."

Dillon smiled. "You're absolutely right. That's why this place keeps going, year after year."

Near the altar, a small group of prisoners rehearsed an anthem. Come Ye Sinners, Poor and Needy. They shared booklets.

"From time to time, we get donations from other church groups, like boxes of used clothing, or that sheet music. I expect, by the time we get another shipment, we'll all have heard that song enough times to have it memorized."

Dillon led us up to the leader of the group, a man with a square jaw, round chin, and a forehead with enough wrinkles to make a Shar-Pei jealous. "Troy, I've got some...people you might want to meet."

Troy turned around and stared at us with his green eyes.

"The Lord has sent us angels from the heavens," Dillon said.

"Saint Louis, actually," said Mr. Barnes. "And Woggerscutt. But yeah, we're on a mission from God."

Troy stared at me, then at my companions. He almost looked...bored. His choir, on the other hand, gawked and murmured to one another.

"Can any of you sing alto or a high tenor?"

"Funny, you'd think you'd have at least one soprano. It is a prison..." This is coming from a man who almost wore a dress into said prison.

Thonwa sang a short soprano piece from Handel's Messiah. It was impressive.

"Would you like to rehearse with us?" Troy asked.

Thonwa nodded, but Zadoori said, "We'll come back."

The Cijambsan stayed put. "It's okay. They need an alto or a high tenor anyway."

"How about you, ma'am?" Troy asked Mara.

"I am a synthetic human. I do not need to rehearse music." She snatched a song sheet out of one of the singers' hands, flipped through it, handed it back. "I'm ready. Notify me when a performance is requested."

Troy just frowned, instructing Thonwa her part.

Dillon lead us away from the group. "C'mon, I'll take you to see the foundry."

In the hallway, Dillon muttered, "Troy isn't quite right in the head. He...tends to confuse everyone with people in his past."

"Do you sing, Dillon?" I asked.

He laughed. "I give my joyful noise during service like everyone else. That's enough for me."

"Do you have communion during your services?"

"Not every service, but we do have it. We have bread, and...a fermented product.

Mr. Barnes smirked. "And what, pray tell, do you ferment?"

The exercise yard of the prison had been transformed into a small farm, featuring wheat and a modest plot of corn. Rows of crude vine bearing crosses leaned against a wall next to a disused basketball court with a rusty bent goal and broken pavement.

A pair of prisoners tended the plants, laying down foul smelling fertilizer. Another pair plucked fruit off the vines, while a third, a man with a face like Frankenstein, sternly supervised the operation.

The men stared and muttered to each other, keeping a wary distance from us. The workers muttered to each other, continuing their farming activities.

"This place is a mess," David said, pointing to a broken goal. "What if someone wants to play basketball?"

"We haven't had a basketball in a long time."

Dillon led us to the vines, showing us the berries, weird yellow-black spheroids that looked like bloated bumblebees. "Leechfruit. Tastes like shit, can't cook with it, but when it's fermented, whew! Lord, have mercy!"

Remembering who he we were, I guess, he cleared his throat and said, "We use the little plastic communion cups, of course. We always worship with the utmost sobriety and reverence."

David rolled his eyes. "Naturally."

"At any rate, leech wine is the currency of the realm around here. Andrews keeps its manufacture and distribution under tight control. He keeps the stuff mainly for himself, some for the church, maybe a prisoner or two if they exhibit model behavior, or do something for him."

"I'm thinking it's more of the latter, not so much the former."

Mr. Barnes picked one of the berries off a vine, popping it in his mouth.

Instead of scolding him, Dillon just smiled, watching the visitor scrunch up his face in disgust.

"Ugh! That really does taste like shit! I haven't eaten fruit this bad since I had Alvuzek in Dolmasab!"

Zadoori just grinned.

"I told you," Dillon said. "Disgusting."

I quoted a joke I'd once heard. "It's a good thing we didn't step in it."

The two laughed.

Mara ate a berry. "Analyzing chemical compounds...Properties share similarities with carbon and sulfur. Some similarities to the North American gooseberry, scallions and bread mold. Traces of natural pickle flavoring."

"You left out one compound, lady," David groaned. "It's the one that tastes like ass."

"I am not familiar with that compound, but I will add it to my database."

"So how are you getting the water to irrigate all this?" David asked our guide. "The oceans look a little...iffy."

"We have an eight stage filtration process. Would you like to see how it works?"

"Uh, sure."

As Dillon led us to a door at the end of the trellises, I heard a strange animal noise, one I could not immediately associate with any earth animal or other creature I had been familiar with.

Mr. Barnes pulled a communicator device out of his pocket. "Dusaq."

His eyes widened as he listened to the object. "It hatched?"

I swallowed hard. "It did?"

"Oh honey, that's great! I'll be there right away!"

"What hatched?" Dillon asked.

"The egg!" Mr. Barnes shouted.

I sucked in my breath, trembling as I thought about my larva hatching in that meat filled balloon.

"I'm going to be a father!" he exclaimed in delight.

Oh.

I sighed in disappointment. "Congratulations."

"Which way is the entrance?" Mr. Barnes asked.

Dillon's jaw dropped in surprise. "You brought your wife here?"

"She's back at the ship with the children."

"Damn, children too! I probably wouldn't bring any of them in here. These men haven't seen either one in a long, long time."

David nodded. "I've heard. Thanks for the heads up."

As we were leaving, Zadoori picked a leechfruit berry. "Mmm! Tangy!"

Two men guarded the prison entrance. They didn't seem to be there to stop us from leaving, only monitoring, it seemed. In fact, they recoiled, staring at us suspiciously as we passed between them.

Outside, a group of prisoners stood around watching the ship. With all its flashing and musical noises, I didn't blame them. It reminded me of a scene from Close Encounters.

"I've heard theories that Ezekiel's wheel was a flying saucer," Dillon breathed as he followed us to the ship. "Or that Elijah was taken up into heaven in an alien spaceship. I didn't know any of it was true."

"It's not," Barnes said. "But you did have one thing right: This is an alien spaceship..."

But when we marched up the boarding ramp, Dillon crossed himself. "Elijah's chariot."

Barnes put his hands on his hips. "Dude. It's a spaceship. Remember yours? The one that presumably brought you guys to this place? It's the same exact deal. Just...a little fancier."

Still, Dillon was struck dumb with awe when he entered the craft, whispering prayers.

Sarah still appeared to be in good health. The egg hadn't hatched yet, the slurry still holding.

"Is this the lucky lady?" Dillon said as he approached her.

"Yes," Sarah said.

Barnes scowled. "No. This is...frankly, I don't know what this is, but it's not mine."

Pillow stood at a table resembling a dog washing station at a pet store, rinsing off a small fuzzy creature with a warm water sprayer.

David hurried to his wife's side, grinning at the child. "Hi, little guy! I'm your dad! Can you say dah dah?"

The child grunted, moving its guinea pig mouth like it intended to say it. Instead, it sneezed in his face.

David chuckled, wiping his face clean. "Pillow, this is great! I'm so happy!"

A tense expression crossed Pillow's face. "I'm glad to hear it."

David ran his hand through the child's fur. "It's so amazing! He doesn't even look human!"

"He's not."

David backed away from the washing station, staring at his wife in dismay. "What the hell do you mean?"

Pillow took a deep breath. "David...I have a confession to make." She swallowed. "A few months before you proposed to me, I...I was with another male. In a moment of weakness, we...guzzed. I'm sorry."

David's face flushed red. "So this one's his."

"Yes, but he's gone."

David glanced at Zadoori, as if to imply that the male really wasn't gone, that the two had done something behind his back.

"I had nothing to do with this," Zadoori blurted. "My wife is more than adequate for my sexual needs."

The human scrunched his face in disgust, turning his anger back on his wife. "It was Glombo, wasn't it?"

"David..." It sounded like a yes.

Her husband stewed in silence for a few moments. Julia kept quiet too, probably because she didn't understand what was going on.

"How long did you know about this?"

"I...actually knew a month ago, but I was afraid to tell you."

"Dammit, Pillow!" David yelled. "All that work, and it's not even mine!"

"It can be yours."

The man just stared at her coldly. I thought for sure Julia would add her two cents at this moment, but I think the whole thing confused her. Either that, or she felt guilt over playing matchmaker.

David turned and marched out of the room, punching a wall panel with his fist as he went.

He then cursed and waved his hand, trying to shake away the pain.

"Do you angels always have problems like this?" Dillon asked.

Pillow laughed. "Mister, my husband is no angel." Her smile vanished . "Neither am I."

I found the husband seated in one of the sofas, rocking back and forth as he stared vacantly into space.

"What's wrong?" Sarah asked him.

"Nothing. It's none of your concern."

He sighed when he noticed me. "We should go back to the prison and check on Thonwa."

The man muttered something about wanting to pick up smoking, but I've heard prison is the worst possible place to pick up the habit.

He marched upstairs.

"Wait," Sarah called to me as I followed him. "Don't go. I need you."

"You have companions here."

"Pillow doesn't like me."

"Maybe not. But what about Naumona and the children?"

"They're alien and I'm not. They don't understand me."

Pillow appeared in the doorway, clutching her baby to her breast. "They've been playing together all day,"

"See, Sarah?" I said. "You have friends here. You'll be okay."

"It's not the same. What if the larva hatches and you're not here? What if I can't transfer my consciousness, and I'm stuck this way forever?"

"Sarah," Zadoori said in soothing tones. "We are not going far. We are only going into the prison. You have Pillow and Naumona with you. I assure you, the moment either one of them notices any change in the larva, they will let Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik know immediately."

"You are in good hands," I agreed.

Sarah nodded reluctantly. "Okay, but I want you here the moment it hatches. Promise me, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik."

"If the Lord wills it, I will."

She smiled a little, then looked away sadly.

"I will stay and monitor her," Mara said.

I wasn't sure what to think about that, but I didn't argue. "Have there been any changes since we left?"

Mara checked the computers surrounding the patient.

"The diameter of the embryo has increased five centimeters. Detecting heightened cellular growth. Microbial colonies suggesting beginnings of brain stem and vital organs. I will notify you immediately of any new developments."

We found David standing outside the craft with his arms raised, shouting something at God.

Zadoori approached him, muttering consoling words in Wava, then, "You have a beautiful wife. She loves you, and even though this may not be your child, he's a child of God, and Glombo isn't going to take care of him."

"What it sounds like, is that Glombo doesn't want to take responsibility for his own chromosomes, so he's dumped the responsibility on me like a chump! He's not my son, and if Pillow and I are infertile, there's no point to this whole damn marriage!"

"You don't know for a fact that you are infertile. Maybe the Lord has blessed you with a mixed family."

David sighed. "I don't want to talk about this anymore. Let's go back in the prison."

"Wait," I said. "What about the lice?"

He groaned. "You just had to say something."

We returned to the main room of the craft.

Abreyas have a medical laser for shaving various parts of the body for surgery. I witnessed its power firsthand when David shaved himself bald. Not a spot of stubble.

He shaved his arms naked, pulled up his pant legs to get his calves, then stepped out of the room to shave...other stuff.

Pillow tried to get him to communicate, complementing him before and after his haircut, but David ignored her like a piece of furniture.

Zadoori, being less modest, stripped down and shaved every inch of his body right in front of us, getting the hard to reach portions with his tail. The flesh beneath was gray and scaly, like a bluegill. "I...believe I may need a jacket."

He possessed a pink one, collared with reptilian scales and feathers that did not resemble any earthly bird's. As he buttoned up, he gave David a sideways glance. "What, no Freddy Mercury joke?"

"Sorry, not in the mood."

We resumed our tour.

Dillon showed us their run down water treatment facility, then the small underground tunnel where they bred rats and farmed mushrooms. "The Weyland company and various charities send us roughly a ton of liquid gruel every month or so. It's supposed to contain every vitamin, mineral and nutrient that a human being needs, but people get tired of that shit, so we supplement it with whatever we can."

Barnes laughed. "Yum."

"It may interest you to know that we have brought our own food supply to share with your people," Zadoori said.

Dillon smiled. "Now I know you were sent from heaven."

"I...don't know if you'll feel that way after you try it."

We saw everything else that was worth seeing in that prison. The hospital, the showers, the foundry, the salvage yard where they brought in derelict manmade satellites and other space debris.

As we marched through the cafeteria, Andrews stopped us. "Say, gentlemen. When did you intend to start cooking?"

Zadoori and David glanced at each other. Although they had no reason to feel threatened by the warden, they were trying to be a good witness. "Now, I suppose."

Sewing may be my passion, but I always wanted to learn how to cook. So I came along with our chef.

We got led into a large industrial kitchen. The countertops and stove were stainless steel, but everything had a thick layer of grime on it, likely the kind that could not be removed with a mere washcloth.

David said it reminded him of a kitchen of a "greasy spoon", the kind with the black griddle that the cook cleans by scraping all the filth into a compartment with a spatula.

They had a giant mixer, a big sink, a couple bread ovens, and tall refrigerators full of something that prisoners and cooks called "soylent," a reference to a movie about cannibalism. The soylent in these refrigerators, however green, did not contain human flesh. I know this because I tested it.

The following is what the men generally ate every day, week after week, month after month, year after year:

On Mondays: Soylent and rat.

Tuesdays, they had a sort of casserole involving rice and mushroom soup and canned tuna, maybe a tasteless native fish, if they could find one.

Wednesday: Rat kabobs in rice and mushroom sauce.

Thursday: Soylent and rice with canned peas.

Friday: Rat meatloaf, made without onions or powdered eggs.

Saturday and Sunday: Soylent with rice and canned peas.

Considering the menu, it was no wonder that David had an audience when he cooked up the Wusu.

Mr. Barnes seemed to be quite the expert at cooking, combining small doses of alien food with the prison's supplies to create magic. In only an hour or so, with the aid of me, Zadoori, and the prison cook, he had about fifty platters of breaded Wusu and rice prepared. I feel very proud to have made ten of those.

Andrews had been hovering around the kitchen the moment David first started cooking. When he saw the plates of Wusu stacking up, he called in all the prisoners, a large thick bodied egg headed man with soft features and a thick eyebrow ridge said grace.

The prisoners lined up for plates, and the staring began, the men familiarizing themselves with us, and we them. The reactions varied, some of them calling us demons, others angels.

A couple men got into an argument, one saying that this proved that evolution was true, the other saying it didn't. The ones that called us demons avoided us, choosing to fast. They told the others if they got sick with alien botulism, it would be their own fault for eating the food.

I got called Jarjar and Chewie and E.T. Mostly Jarjar. They called Zadoori Spock. David, well, they mostly called Princess.

Andrews loved the food. He got three helpings for himself.

Of all the men lining up with their trays, we only got one complaint: the portions weren't big enough. One could say worse things.

The meal ended, and we did dishes.

I saw a man standing outside the serving area, attempting to exorcise us out of the prison with a book. We decided to ignore him.

Thonwa came by to help out, and when we did, I noticed she had also shaved.

Beneath all that hair, she had an insect-like appearance, black and polka dotted red, like a ladybug. I couldn't help but stare.

"What," she said. I suppose I'd been facing her a minute too long.

"Nothing. You just have a beautiful exoskeleton."

The sides of her scarf wiggled, making me confused and unsettled. "Thank you. Have I ever told you that you remind me of a brother of mine?"

I vaguely recalled her saying that in passing, and told her so.

"I...always had a crush on my brother..."

I squirmed uncomfortably, wondering if I should be flattered or disgusted.

Thonwa touched the sides of my neck. "A pity it wouldn't work."

"I believe you would be the expert on the subject."

When everything had been cleaned and put away, Andrews instructed our entire team to follow him to the center of the prison.

We stood on a raised concrete stage, surrounded by a semicircular column of cells arranged in tiers. Many of the cells appeared to have once had automatic sliding doors with bulletproof glass, but now those doors were gone, replaced by old fashioned metal bars, or nothing at all. Nobody had bothered to remove the automatic locking pieces.

Bald prisoners in raggedy mismatched `uniforms' stood or sat around the railings at every tier, staring, pointing, muttering, shouting catcalls, or applauding the meal.

Andrews called the crowd to attention. "Gentlemen, I present to you the Intergalactic Missionary League!"

He asked us for our names, then, thinking he'd gotten it right, introduced me as "Thwaka," Thonwa as "Shazooka," Zadoori as "Tandoori," and David as "Dennis."

Once this misidentification had been established, Andrews shouted, "The Intergalactic Missionary League is a Christian missionary group from another galaxy. It may interest you that tonight's supper was, in fact, an alien lifeform. If anyone gets sick and dies from it, you know who to blame."

"How is that any different from Rupert's cooking?" a man with dark circled eyes called from a balcony.

"Yeah!" a man with sunken cheeks shouted. "Every time you pick up his soylent casserole, you're putting your life into your own hands!"

Applause broke out.

Andrews grumpily struck a pipe with a stick. "Right! Before I was interrupted!" He glowered at the prisoners. "This `League' is one of those traveling performance groups that preach, so they're going to perform a little show for us."

I cringed. My `League' muttered to one another, mostly in dismay.

"Even though we're not prepared," Thonwa said. "It could be fun! Maybe...the Lord sent us here for that very purpose!"

David rolled his eyes. "I've got nothing."

"We should pray about it," Zadoori said.

We did.

"We...are saving the performance for tomorrow night," Zadoori told the man. "This night we will show you the Roglowka on the Xibjugia...a farm culture." He brought out the cone shaped holographic device he'd shown the warden earlier.

"They are working some bugs out of the act," the man announced.

"It shouldn't take that long to shave!" called a crazy looking man with goggles on his head.

Andrews ignored him. "...In the meantime, they have a movie they'd like to show you. Remember those?"

Applause and whistles.

"Put it on!" yelled the man with shadowy eyes.

"I want to see some tits!" someone else shouted.

"You may be disappointed," Andrews said. "Hence why we're playing this around lights out."

"Fuck the movie! Let's see the Princess and his bugs do a dance in their tutus!"

There were snickers, mutters of agreement. David looked horrified.

Zadoori set the cone down, showing the crowd a holographic movie about Abreyas farming squirming plants and feeding giant beasts that looked like turkeys with pig's ears.

Although fascinating to look at, at first, it was not at all dramatic. The prisoners' heads began drooping. People threw things at the hologram, shouting, "Give us a show!" and "Princess! Princess!"

We retreated from there.

"Are you going to put me in solitary now?" I asked the big man.

He grunted something about how the other killers go wherever they want, so he led me to an empty cell. "James Dowdy died a month ago. If you want to sleep, you can take this one."

Since I couldn't very well sleep on a bunk without ruining it, I laid on the floor.

Zadoori took the bunk next to me. "You might be more comfortable on the ship."

"It's about the same, actually. Plus I am a monster, a murderer who has found the faith, just like everyone else in the prison. I belong here."

"I'm not sure if you belong, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, but I admit you are in no danger. David, on the other hand, has chosen to return to the ship, to stay with his wife."

As soon as he said this, David entered our cell, climbing in the top bunk. "Watch my back, `Thwaka.'" He rolled over.

"What about the Thonwa?" I asked.

"She has her own cell. I believe it's reserved for better behaved prisoners."

Andrews locked us in, "For safety", but I was not concerned. I could easily melt the lock on that old fashioned rusty door.

The prison fell silent, save for the strange sounds coming from the holographic device. I took a nap.

Near dawn, I felt the floor vibrate. I didn't know what it was. The foundry did make a fair bit of noise and vibration, but I didn't think anyone would be working so late at night.

No one else seemed to be disturbed by this. They continued sleeping soundly in their bunks. Even David, who had been going to the toilet with great frequency, had remained unconscious.

I laid back down.

An hour later, I felt a small body pressing against my exoskeleton, coughing and sneezing as it nuzzled into me.

When I looked down, I found a strange larva pawing at my chest. "Ernie! Hold me, I'm scared!"

I jerked back in surprise. "Who are you?"

She coughed. "It's me! Newt!"

"Newt?" I gasped in utter disbelief. "I don't understand!" I pushed her away from me. "Who are you!"

She coughed and sneezed, weeping in the fashion of a Ss'sik'chtokiwij. "I already told you! I'm Newt! Rebecca! Please don't tell me you've forgotten!"

I coughed uncontrollably. "But Newt is alive! The Ripley woman rescued her from Grandmother and took her away on a spaceship!" (1)

"I don't know," the creature said. "Something really bad happened! Please, hold me! I'm so scared!"

[0000]

1. Alternate ("Peacekeeper") paragraph, for preserving continuity:

I coughed uncontrollably. "But Newt is alive! I helped Ripley save her from Grandmother! Ripley dropped Grandma into space! I saw it happen!"

[0000]

This story and the other Ernie 073 adventures are available for sale at Lulu, complete with maps and illustrations. Just search for Ernie 073. As of 2/6/18, the first three books have been thoroughly proofread (cutting the cost a little due to less pages). I only get a penny per printing, so you're paying for the shipping and printing costs. Private message me or order directly from the site if you're interested.