This is a story that Tara wrote, with my help, for an English assignment during Middle School. It is a very, very early prequel to the Terran Underground series. I'm posting it with her permission because it *is* part of the series, and it shows how well my daughter wrote when she was in her early teens. She's improved a great deal since (I direct you to "Catspaw" on the Archive) but even then she was showing promise, as I think you might agree if you read this story.
Anna, the main character, appears again, much later, in "Psychic Killer".
Nan
Company Coming
By Tara Morris and Nancy Smith
How did we get into this? Anna Svensdottir, Captain of the Terran explorer, "Venture", wondered about it abstractedly. Around her the nine other members of her crew shifted uneasily as they awaited the Supreme Judge, or whatever he was called, to start their ordeal.
They had come out of hyperspace in the Arcturus system some ten hours ago and run headlong into two ships that were certainly not any Terran model she knew. They received a signal from one of those ships and on their viewscreen had appeared the images of golden scaled, vaguely humanoid creatures -- at least they had two arms and two legs in the same places that humans had them. But they had green eyes -- bright, grass green -- with the slit pupils of reptiles, tall, leathery crests running from the center of their foreheads across their bare scalps and down the backs of head and neck, and long, shark-like teeth. The humans hadn't understood their language, but the message was plain.
Their ship was grabbed roughly by a tractor beam and dragged toward the third planet, which their scanners showed to be capable of sustaining life -- and it definitely had life. From what they could see as their ship was pulled into the atmosphere, the world had three large continents, two in the northern hemisphere and one in the southern. The two northern ones appeared to be mostly snow covered, and she assumed it must be winter in the north. Four much smaller continents and many islands, large and small, dotted the seas.
They were taken to the northernmost continent, where they had nearly frozen to death, and, as they left their ship, they had seen the Procyon ship. Their explorers had met the Procyons some five years ago, and the Procyons had never said anything about these gold men (as she preferred to think of them).
The gold men had taken them to a building, large, but plainly built: evidently some official building. The only sort of ornamentation were the brilliant flowers that bloomed in huge gardens on the grounds -- and in the winter, too, she thought--and the brightly painted walls. They were escorted to a plain, simply designed room, carpeted with a brightly colored rug. Apparently they liked bright colors, because everything in the room was wearing them in some way or another. In it were another Arcturian and a blue-feathered Procyon. She could tell the Arcturian was some kind of official. He wore a bright, clinging, purple outfit that stretched as he moved. The Procyon wore standard Procyon clothing; loose leg coverings, supported by a wide belt of some sort of leather and a harness across the upper part of his body, leaving his chest bare. The creature was also vaguely humanoid, with huge eyes, resembling a Terran owl, a hooked beak and the cruel talons of a predator. Typical of Procyons, he wore no shoes, and the clawed three-toed feet made faint scratching sounds on the carpet as he walked.
The Arcturian stared at them, his retractile claws extended, the crest half raised in obvious surprise. The Procyon appeared almost as startled as the Arcturian. Anna could tell that by the way the blue down on its face and head had fluffed up. The feathers went back to normal when it recognized the Terrans.
The Arcturians who had escorted them there said something, and the official replied. The Procyon also spoke, it's voice high and birdlike. Anna hadn't understood -- evidently they had all been speaking Arcturian. The Procyon then turned to them.
It turned out that the Procyons had known the Ceregona -- that was the name of these people -- for perhaps fifteen Earth years. Why they hadn't mentioned them to the Terrans he didn't explain and Anna hadn't asked. The Procyons were traders; Anna figured that was why the Arcturians and the Terrans hadn't been told about each other. Why ruin a good trade deal by letting them get acquainted too soon? But the Procyon being there made communications easier. With the Procyon, Sh'Krik, acting as translator, they had learned a few things. Translated, the title of the Arcturian in purple came out something like "He Who Speaks the Last Word". They decided to call him the Senior Speaker. The Senior Speaker invited them to a welcoming banquet. Through the Procyon they had accepted, but the alien had given them a warning that had made Anna feel a little nervous. He told them that the government here was a kind of democracy, but the customs were stringent: they were not to be broken by anyone, even by visitors.
The welcoming feast was highly entertaining, even though unusual. Musicians played music that reminded Anna of Terran rock with an Arabic flavor. Brightly colored paintings adorned the walls, showing Arcturians in brightly colored uniforms apparently engaged in violent combat. Then the food came. First there had been meat, served very rare, and barely cooked vegetables. Then the main course was served -- esa chan sheel, according to the Procyon -- considered a delicacy by the Ceregona. It consisted of a form of crustacean on a bed of greens, smothered in a fruit sauce. The only hitch was that they were still alive and crawling about the plate.
That was when the disaster happened. Her executive officer had apparently felt something on his arm. Somehow the main course had begun to crawl up his sleeve. Startled, he'd slapped at it, and as he did so his hand slipped and hit his plate which had flipped up and landed in the lap of the older of the Senior Speaker's two wives, spreading essa chan sheel all over her.
The Senior Speaker had been quite offended and told them huffily that they would have to participate in the Atonement Ritual which would involve ten of them against ten Ceregona in some sort of combat. They had been escorted down a long corridor to this room, and here they stood, facing ten Arcturians all grinning like fanged clowns and holding stylized clubs in their hands.
Joe Richards, her executive officer, glanced nervously at her as a tall, black-robed Arcturian entered the room and walked slowly toward them. Beside him stalked the Procyon.
The judge stepped between the two opposing groups and spoke, then placed a crystal ovoid on the ground between them. The Procyon turned to them and translated.
"By any means at all," he said, solemnly, "you must get this ball across your opposing team's goal line."
They gaped at the alien. He and the judge stepped back as Anna and her crew looked uncertainly at each other. Then the gravity went off.
**********
Anna Svensdottir stared thoughtfully at the ship's viewscreen, watching the image of Ceregon shrinking rapidly as the "Venture" left the star system behind. The null-grav hockey match -- that was what she called it in her mind, anyway -- was a complete fiasco for the Terrans, of course, but at least the misunderstanding had been cleared up. As it turned out, the Ceregona were sports mad, and so, to seal the new friendship, the crew had shown the aliens baseball. The Senior Speaker and his people were delighted.
Strange people, she thought, but likeable. Imagine determining your social status and settling arguments with games!
On the other hand, come to think about it, maybe that wasn't such a bad system after all.
The End
