Season’s Greetings

A different kind of Christmas story…

Mitch couldn’t sleep. Here it was, three nights before Christmas, and all though the house, not a creature was stirring, except for Mitch. His wife, Corrine, was fast asleep. He crept out of the bedroom and closed the door as if he was opening it after arriving home way too late from a night out with the guys. Except he wished this was a night out. He would have preferred that to a night of pre-Christmas anxiety. Mitch always felt more than a little overwhelmed at Christmastime – too much fake joviality, too much merchandize in the stores, way too many appeals to “buy, buy, buy” – so much so he felt a chronic sense of depression around the holidays. True, the right Christmas carol at the right time could snap him out of it for an hour or so, but the feeling lingered. The end of the season of course meant the new year was dawning, and fortunately his birthday coincided with the new year. The stockings, hung by the chimney with care, never seemed to mean as much to him as eventually taking them down, signaling a new beginning, a chance for a few do-overs, a release from the commercialization that marred a perfectly good holiday. The season marking the birth of a savior should be a time to reflect, to give thanks, and perhaps become more giving, not of material goods, but of time and care. Who was he kidding? Everybody somehow hoped Saint Nicholas soon would be there, the renewing spirit of the good Samaritan, helping others with no thought of being paid back. Yet, everybody “exchanged” presents, trying to do their best to give and receive in more-or-less equal measure. All of it annoyed Mitch. A quiet holiday was his dream. Failing that, a meaningful season, when more was accomplished than the mere observance of tradition or the purchase of another “thing” nobody wanted.

He stared out the window. The children were no longer nestled all snug in their beds. They had families of their own now. Christmastime was easier when they were little, when he could see the season through their eyes. There was a full moon, but no new-fallen snow, so he could see the lusterless grass and leaf-bare trees, not as if it was midday, but well enough to take a walk. Yes, it would soon be three in the morning, but he put on an old pair of shoes he found in the garage and went to the closet to get a topcoat to wear over his flannel pajamas. Just as he reached for the coat, he heard the cracking of tree limbs and what sounded like a brief burst of thrust reversers on a jet plane, then a firm “whump,” like a sand bag hitting the ground, except this might be a pretty huge bag of sand. He ran back to the window but didn’t throw up the sash. The view was clear enough. In the field across the street to his wondering eyes appeared a small plane of some kind, sparking and spewing steam or smoke. Although it was black, its outline was clear, and if anything could be said to have luster that night, this plane was it. Mitch carefully opened the front door and bolted towards the plane. When he reached it, his fears were confirmed – there was someone still inside. While he was unsure whether an explosion or fire was imminent, he saw a figure dressed in black, wearing a black helmet inside the – well, “plane” is not a good description. It was a small wingless aircraft with a hexagonal-domed hatch on top. Mitch thought it might be experimental. The surface of the aircraft appeared to be smooth carbon fiber arranged in a geodesic-honeycomb pattern. Most of the sparking was coming from what appeared to be the rear. He could see the top of a nearby tree broken off as he looked that direction. He clamored up on the aircraft and saw the occupant stirring. He searched frantically for a hatch release. As he passed his hand over a section of the hull near the hatch, a panel slid aside, and he poked at some buttons hoping for the best. After what seemed like an eternity, the hatch popped open and he was able to reach what he assumed to be the pilot.

“Come on, buddy, let’s get you out of there…” Mitch tried to reassure the pilot as much as he was trying to reassure himself.

Realizing there might not be much time, Mitch grunted and heaved the pilot to safety. Putting his arm around the pilot’s waist and placing the pilot’s arm over his shoulder, he walked him across the street to his front yard. As Mitch helped the pilot to the ground, the man in black suddenly turned towards the aircraft and pointed emphatically. It occurred to Mitch there must be another person in the aircraft.

Indeed, there was. The co-pilot was attempting to climb out when Mitch got there. He gave the second occupant of the aircraft a hand as he staggered out and helped him across the street. If the aircraft was going to explode, a little distance seemed to be prudent.

Mitch started asking questions. “Are you guys alright? Are you in the Air Force? Is that an experimental aircraft? Is it going to blow up? Was this a training exercise of some kind? Is there anybody I can call for you? Should I call 9-1-1?”

At least one of the pilots had a little speaker on his jacket. What Mitch heard next was quite possibly the turning point of his life. The little speaker produced these words: “Spee-ack. Moray. Train. Slaughter. Caleb. Rate. Inga.”

“What was that? Is your name Caleb? Or Inga? How can I help you? Are you hurt? Is your flight suit damaged?”

“Speak. More. Trans. Late. Orca. Librating.”

“We can speak more. Let’s go inside. Then we can decide what to do. I can tell you are both probably in shock. We’ll get you some place warm. Maybe have a look at your injuries. I can take you to the hospital if you need a doctor. Let’s go. But keep quiet. I don’t want to wake my wife…if she’s not already awake.”

The pair got up with Mitch’s help. They followed his lead and helped each other through the front door. Mitch conducted them to a den at the end of the house farthest from the bedrooms.

“Here we are. Please have a seat. Is there anything I can get you?”

“Speak more. Translator calibrating.”

“Oh, I get it now. You guys don’t speak English. This is a language translator. Where are you from? Is this a joint mission of some kind? I hope this isn’t part of an invasion. Wait. Did I just help the enemy?”

“We are not the enemy,” the little speaker enunciated clearly. “Our craft is not from your world. We…are not from your world.”

“Right…Is this a joke? It’s pretty elaborate if it is.”

“We are not joking. Please do not be alarmed. It is best we show ourselves. Understand we mean you no harm.”

“OK…I’ll play along. I figure if you meant me harm, you would have done something by now.”

“First, thank you for helping us. We were not sure help would be offered. Because you have helped us it is only fair that we reveal ourselves and tell you our intentions. We hope our appearance does not frighten you.”

With that, the pair retracted their helmets, like hoodies, but much more seamlessly. Mitch drew in a long slow breath. It was obvious they were not from this world. It was also obvious they were not a couple of pilots in the Air Force. They had golden eyes, and rather aquiline, but humanoid, feminine features, and skin that looked like sharkskin, but with, shall we say, interesting markings, much like some Earth dog breeds, except more like watermarks or very light tattoos. At first, their appearance was shocking, but momentarily, Mitch realized his appearance must be shocking to them as well.

“I’m glad I’m sitting down,” Mitch sighed nervously. “I think a little explanation is in order. It seems you are both female. Am I correct? I just want to be clear about things. I am a male. And just so you know, I don’t always dress this way.” By now, Mitch realized he must look as ridiculous as he sounded in his flannel jammies and a top coat.

“We are female. We come from a planet far from…Earth. Is that what you call your planet?”

“Yes. We call this Earth. What do you call your world?”

“We will tell you more soon. But first, we must hide our craft. I think it will fit diagonally in the next room. In the room where you now have two vehicles.”

“That’s the garage and those are cars. I can move them out, but how will we be able to get your ‘craft’ in there?”

“There is a way. We think you will be happy to see it.”

“OK. I’ll get the keys.”

Mitch backed the cars out and parked them on a spare patch of concrete next to the driveway. By the time he was done, the pair was already standing by their ‘craft’ and all the sparking, smoke, and steam had subsided.

“Now, how do we move it? It must weigh a ton.”

The pilot pushed a few buttons on the side of the craft and a handrail projected out from the midline, wrapping around the nose. “Grasp here and pull.”

Mitch joined his new companions and began to pull. Astonishingly, the craft began to levitate and the three towed it towards the garage. Within a minute or so it was safely inside, and Mitch closed the door.

“Thank you for your assistance,” the little speaker said.

“You were right. It was my pleasure to help. It was well worth it to see a spaceship levitate,” Mitch replied. “Now let’s all have a seat and you can tell me what I’ve gotten myself into.”

No sooner than they had settled in the den, Mitch heard Corrine stirring. “What’s going on, Mitch? Why did I hear the garage door open at this hour?” She called out.

Mitch called back, “Corrine, you’d better come out to the den. I have something to show you…uh, someone you need to meet.”

“Now…? Mitch, for Pete’s sake, who would…” Corrine froze when she saw the two strangers casually sitting in her den.

Mitch rushed to her and helped her sit down. “It’s alright, Honey, there was a little crash and…”

“And you just invited two…what do I call them…aliens…into our home?” Corrine was incredulous.

“There is a perfectly good explanation for everything…I hope…” Mitch said, glancing at his new friends. “Their space ship is in the garage. See…”

Mitch opened the inner door to the garage and switched on the light. Corrine peeked in. “Oh, my…”

Switching the light off, Mitch tried to calm Corrine. “You see, I heard their crash and helped them out of their spaceship, except I didn’t know it was a spaceship. I thought it was an experimental plane of some kind. I couldn’t just let the pilots die, could I? Then, they took off their helmets and showed me they weren’t from around here. And we couldn’t just let their spaceship sit in the cornfield until sunrise…They were just about to give me an explanation, so it’s a good thing you are awake…”

“Yeah…a good thing.” Corrine was now shaking.

“Please, do not be alarmed…Corrine. Mitch has been very helpful. Some of our crew members thought Earth people would try to harm us, but we were hoping suspicion and fear would not take over. We are a scouting party of two. In fact, we came here after wagering that someone would help us if we had any trouble. Most of our crew believed we would be injured or killed. My name is Nobrea and my companion is Beccora. Corrine, it may provide you some comfort to learn our society is matriarchal. Females are generally considered the leaders, although we make allowances for males who display merit. I understand your society is generally patriarchal, organized around male leadership with occasional deference to females.”

“Maybe I was a little too hasty in my judgement,” Corrine remarked, glancing towards Mitch, then she turned towards the two strangers. “It seems we might have something to learn from… Nobrea…and…Beccora?”

“Good…I was hoping you would say something like that,” Nobrea’s little speaker replied. “Our species have much to learn from one another. But, often people from different backgrounds let cultural differences and distrust stand in the way of learning.”

Beccora’s translator chimed in, “We have an ancient story about two cultures that despised each other because of certain longstanding…philosophical differences. Members of one would not even cross a footpath to assist members of the other out of fear they would become…contaminated. This was especially true for their leaders and had been the way of things for as long as records were kept. One day a member of one of these groups was attacked by thieves and left for dead. One brave member of the other group, who is now called, The Good Hittarchan, stopped to help. The good Hittarchan went out of his way to make sure the injured man was nursed back to health and was able to go on his way, even though he was a member of the culture Hittarchans were supposed to hate. While the story is a legend, it teaches our people not to base their actions on fear and prejudice.”

“That’s very interesting,” Mitch remarked. “We also have a story, The Good Samaritan, that makes a similar point. Who is truly a good man, the one who sticks to irrational beliefs and preconceptions or the one who simply helps a person in need?”

“You helped two people in need tonight, Mitch. And you didn’t even ask what culture they belonged to,” Nobrea pointed out.

“Well, it’s different when the person in question may be about to die a horrible death,” Mitch answered softly.

“Mitch, you know full well there are people on Earth who would let another person die if they were the wrong race or religion,” Corrine blurted out.

“True,” Mitch replied. “I try not to think about that too much. I find it’s better to try and do good when we can. We can’t control what others do, only what we do.”

“Yes,” Beccora agreed. “That is why we came to your planet. We decided to discover whether your people would react with fear and hate or would be more like The Good Hittarchan. We staked our lives on the idea that someone would come to our aid rather than succumb to fear. So far, Mitch, you have passed our test.”

“We need your help with another task,” Nobrea jumped in. “Mitch, I ask you to come with me to the primary exploratory vessel while Beccora remains here with Corrine. We want to show our crew at least some inhabitants of Earth can be trusted. Are you willing to visit us for a short time – at most 36 Earth hours? You may decline, and we will go our way. We think it is important to risk in order to learn. Mitch, will you take the risk? I promise to make sure no harm will come to you, just as you have seen to it no harm came to us. Please accompany me.”

“I know you want to go, Mitch. This is a dream come true for you,” Corrine observed. “Go, and I’ll look after Beccora until you return.”

“What could possibly go wrong?” Mitch replied. “By the way, Nobrea, where is your primary vessel?”

“Hidden behind Earth’s moon. For now, we think it is best to observe without being observed. Perhaps later our two species can find ways to learn from each other. In the meantime, let us discover what Mitch thinks of our society and what Corrine and Beccora can learn from each other.”

“What about your spaceship?” Mitch enquired.

“We have called for a maintenance drone to assist us in repairing it. The drone should arrive in a few Earth hours.” Beccora replied.

“Did you say hours?” Mitch looked puzzled. “It took the Apollo 11 mission more than three days to reach the moon.”

“Our technology can achieve sustained acceleration for much longer periods. When I transport you to our primary vessel, the journey will take less than four Earth hours.”

“While we are on the topic of your technology, remember you said you would explain more about who you are as well as what your intentions are. Since we have a few hours, please tell us more.”

“Very well, Mitch,” Nobrea answered. “We have been monitoring your planet for many years; ever since your species detonated a thermonuclear bomb in Earth year 1945. Until that point, we did not regard your planet as a potential threat. Now that one of your vehicles has left your planetary system, we believe it is wise to observe your species more closely.”

“You say we. Where is your planet?” Mitch asked.

“We are from a planet approximately 23 light-years from Earth. We call it Orbon.”

“So, should we call you Orbonians?”

“That would be fair enough given our language difference,” Beccora responded, despite a look of hesitation on Nobrea’s part.

“So, what do you hope to learn?” Corrine asked.

“In addition to determining the level of threat your species might pose to this sector of the galaxy,” Nobrea began, “our mission is to seek knowledge of your species, to reach a better understanding, so we might find a way to establish formal contact, a way forward that does not involve conflict, or especially, warfare. If your species intends to explore other worlds, we must be sure you intend to do this peacefully, without laying absurd claims or colonizing without regard to indigenous lifeforms or cultures.”

“I see you know something of our past,” Mitch interjected.

“We know our past all too well.” Nobrea paused. “Orbon was not exempt from armed conflict and wars of conquest. Our world learned there is a better way than constantly fighting amongst ourselves. How do you think we were able to develop the technology to visit your planet? War is an unconscionable waste of resources. Exploration, on the other hand, can provide great returns, not the least of these is knowledge.”

“If I visit your ship, what can I expect?”

“Good question.”

“I used to teach,” Mitch interrupted. “Good question generally means, it’s complicated. Am I correct?”

“You are correct,” Nobrea began. “Besides seeing for yourself how 24 Orbonians – she didn’t appear to like the sound of that word – live aboard the vessel in which they were able to travel to your world, you will find some think your species is repulsive and not to be trusted, while others, like the two of us, think more positive thoughts. Some wagered against us. Others are sympathetic. Not unlike your world, opinion is often divided. I hope to give the pessimistic a reason to be optimistic. Do you think you can be the reason?”

“When you put it that way, I’m not sure, to say the least. I know how factions work. Often people actively look for reasons to distrust and hate and overlook reasons to trust and befriend. Are your people ready to rise above, pardon the pun, the petty stuff that usually gets in the way on Earth?”

“Uncertain. But my crew is among the best our world has to offer. If they cannot reach consensus fairly, there is little hope for our worlds coming to a larger understanding.”

“It’s clear we must try then,” Mitch concluded.

Both Nobrea and Beccora seemed to show approval. Corrine seemed less enthusiastic than they did but did not oppose the plan. Perhaps the honesty of their guests had something to do with it.

___________

Just before sunrise, the repair drone arrived, and the two visitors began work on their craft. Mitch and Corrine had tried to get some sleep, but all they accomplished was a thorough inspection of the ceiling. When they heard activity in the garage, they decided breakfast was a better option than worry or just sitting around. Corrine suggested they put together a tray of pastries, fruit, toast, coffee, and juice for their guests. Mitch carried it out to the garage and Corrine accompanied him. They were amazed their guests accepted. Nobrea even said she was hoping to try some Earth fruit and Beccora remarked about the pleasant texture of the Danish pastry. Could it be that eating together is truly a universal bonding experience? When Corrine asked about this, Nobrea said that the crew of the Orbon ship often enjoyed sharing meals together. It struck Corrine as ironic that shared meals were becoming a thing of the past in many places on Earth.

The work proceeded well and in a few hours the scout craft was ready for flight. Mitch and Corrine went to their room for a few minutes of privacy.

“Do you think we can trust them, Mitch?”

“I think so. If they had meant us harm, we probably wouldn’t be having this little chat.”

“What you are about to do is about as risky as it gets.”

“Not as risky as charging into battle or a burning building.”

“Even so, what if they experiment on you, or torture you, or kill you?”

“You and I will at least know the answer to one of humanity’s age-old questions – are we alone in the universe?”

“Well, we know that already. You can still call it off,” Corrine noted Mitch’s expression. “No, you can’t. We need to know. The Orbonians need to know. No explorer would turn down such an offer. I’m just sorry I have to risk losing you.”

“What about you? This mission isn’t easy on either end. What about Beccora? She is risking quite a bit as well. What if something goes wrong? What if something happens to either of you?”

“It’s not like I’m going to take her to Walmart,” Corrine paused, “although at Walmart nobody is likely to notice anything out of place.”

“Funny…Just keep a low profile. Put the cars away after I leave and learn what you can from Beccora. I’m sure everything will work out just fine.”

“Like you get to fly to the moon with an alien pilot and meet with a delegation of aliens on a regular basis. No big deal, right?”

“Yeah. That’s about the size of it. No big deal. Just doing our part. Helping new friends. Nothing to worry about.”

“You’re worried.”

“Yeah, a little. So are you.”

“A lot.”

“Try not to worry. By tomorrow night, we will be together again and with any luck we can write a book about this adventure and maybe make a little money.”

“Let’s just make it through the next two days first. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Mitch rejoined Nobrea, who had him put on a spare suit and helmet. The helmet automatically adapted to his head shape and size and communications were of course part of the tech. Nobrea didn’t seem worried about leaving in broad daylight. When Mitch asked about this problem, all she said was, “stealth mode.”

The scout craft left Earth’s orbit several minutes later.

__________

 “How about lunch, Beccora?” Corrine asked.

“Thank you, Corrine.”

Over lunch, Corrine asked a lot of questions about women in Orbonian society and Beccora asked just as many about men on Earth. Beccora was astonished to learn that nine out of ten of top-level positions on Earth were held by men. On Orbon, nearly eight out of ten leaders were female. Perhaps this was one reason why Orbonians resisted war.

“Are there no women competent to hold leadership positions on Earth?” Beccora enquired.

“There are many women able to hold leadership positions. However, they are limited by a combination of traditional beliefs and the demands of raising a family. There are countless career detours. How does your society handle childbirth and raising children?”

“I see. Birthing and raising children can have a negative effect on a person’s professional development – if a society allows it. None of my crewmates has children. They would say they do not have much aptitude for dealing with them. Yet, some females are particularly suited to raising children, as are many males. We have discovered that the biological characteristics of males and females do not necessarily correspond to their psychological makeup. Some males act more like females, while some females act more like males. So, we make a conscious effort to place children with males and females who are the most qualified to nurture and teach them. Usually, a group of two males and one female works together to raise a group of 6-8 children.”

“What about childbirth? Does this mean some women are only used as breeding stock?”

“Oh my, no!” Some women still want to give birth to babies themselves, but we have the technology to implant a fertilized egg into any male who wants to carry the child to term. Fortunately, many of our males – more than half – are willing to do this. It also helps that such males, and females, are substantially rewarded for their service. Our society takes parenting very seriously – just as seriously as any other profession, including serving on our exploratory ship.”

“I have so many questions. It seems on Earth we allow just about anyone to become a parent, whether or not they have any aptitude for it, whether or not they really want to raise children, or whether or not they have the financial resources. In my opinion, a lot of social problems are caused by poor parenting. Even so, there is the problem of who gets to decide who can become a parent or who should be allowed to raise children. And on what basis do they make these decisions?”

At this point, the doorbell rang, and there was an insistent knock on the door. Corrine consulted her “Ring” doorbell app and viewed a group of soldiers, well-armed, ready to come in, invited or not. The back door was similarly occupied. Corrine stated the obvious. “Beccora, it looks like someone other than me knows you’re here.”

There was no choice but to let the gentlemen in.

“Mrs. Campbell, where is your husband?” the man in charge demanded.

“I suppose you already know where he is,” Corrine replied curtly.

“Don’t get sassy with me, Mrs. Campbell, this is a matter of national security.”

“Sooner or later everything is to men like you.”

Pretending to ignore Corrine’s retort, the officer in charge turned his attention to Beccora. “You will have to come with us, whoever you are.”

“Her name is Beccora, and where she goes, I go,” Corrine stepped in front of Beccora.

“Just stand aside and let us do our jobs, or…”

“Or what? You’ll shoot me? You small-minded tool.”

“I’m giving you one last warning, Ma’am.”

“How generous of you…obsequious prick,” the last part was under Corrine’s breath (after 29 years of marriage, she was becoming a true Campbell).

The officer in charge stepped forward to grab Beccora. At this point, Corrine did something she didn’t know she could do. Mitch had demonstrated the technique for self-defense, but she kept telling him she would never have to use it. She kneed the man in the groin and elbowed him in the throat.

The officer groaned – twice. “Nice try Mrs. Campbell.” Arrest them both,” he croaked.

__________

Aboard the scout craft, Mitch was trying to learn more about the Orbonians. Nobrea was still getting used to hearing the sound of that word in English, so Mitch used other words like, your people, or your crew. To tell the truth, he spent the first 45 minutes or so with his eyes riveted on the Earth and was too flustered to speak. He only stopped staring when he started to get a stiff neck. His major regret at that point was expressed in the thought, damn, I forgot my camera!

“I thought we would be weightless in space…” were Mitch’s first words.

“We are not in orbit. Orbiting a planet is the same as falling freely. We are accelerating at approximately the same rate as one Earth gravity. We therefore have the same sensation as a person standing on your planet’s surface. The acceleration of gravity on Orbon is approximately 1.6 times that of Earth. I am trying to make your journey more comfortable.”

“Ah, then at the halfway point, we will be weightless just long enough for you to turn your ship around and then decelerate the rest of the way to the moon.”

“You are a quick study, Mitch.”

“Thank you. What will happen when we arrive at your primary vessel?”

“First, I will introduce you to our Primus, the one you might call a Captain. But on Orbon we base our society on the principle that the leader is the first among equals, what you would call a Primus. No intellectually honest female would claim to be better than all others around her. She may have more experience or more training, but she is Primus because she is wise enough to consider advice from all those who might have more specific knowledge. All of Orbonian society benefits from this arrangement. There, it seems I am getting acclimated to the sound of that word.”

“Interesting. This concept has been widely discussed, however generally Earth societies subscribe to the great man theory. Many on my world believe success almost always depends on the words or deeds of certain great men, and a relatively few women. Therefore, a small percentage of men tend to rise to high positions and receive extremely high compensation in terms of material goods and attention. And, many people give them great deference simply because they have wealth and power, even though a lot of research has shown that extreme rewards generally do not guarantee superior performance.”

“No female on my world would be so vain. None would have such…hubris. Where is the humility of these males? On my world, both females and males know their limitations. None would claim to be great merely to be rewarded with material possessions. But there are many who are humble enough to understand that people working together can accomplish great things. Our society rewards the competent and the cooperative as much as those who stand out. To be clear, we have great persons, even revered persons, on our world. But we let history judge their actions and try not to reward them too extravagantly in their lifetimes.”

“That makes sense to me. I’ve often thought that success in anything requires people to work together. One person might be able to build a car, or this ship, alone, but many can do it more quickly and efficiently,” Mitch paused. It seemed he and his new companion had some ideas in common. “What will happen next?”

“Next we will introduce you to the senior specialists and give you a tour of the primary vessel. After that, be ready for crew members to question you on practically any subject. Please don’t be concerned if you don’t have all the answers. Simply admit you don’t know or tell them the area is beyond your specialized knowledge. Intellectual honesty is highly prized among my people.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Will I be able to ask questions of your crew?”

“Yes. We believe in fairness. No topic is off-limits if questions are asked respectfully. Also, keep in mind as a male, you will be expected to show a certain amount of deference to females. Never try to talk over us or contradict us unless you have strong evidence to support your opinion. Even then, offer your opinion as an option to be considered, not as an opposing argument, and certainly not as a superior proposal. Males on your world may be permitted to impose their will on others, but on our world, one sure way to be ignored is to try to force others to accept your point-of-view. Remember, the idea is first among equals. Everyone’s voice must be heard, even the voice of males.”

“I get it. It seems Corrine has prepared me well for this journey. I’ve learned the wisdom of showing deference to her over the years. Her opinion is as valid as mine, and often more so. We both try to consider what the other has to say. Sometimes it’s not easy, though.”

“I did not say it would be easy. Do your best, and if you think you have made a mistake or misspoken, simply apologize. My people will understand. We know your society has functioned from a male perspective for thousands of years. No one can adapt to another society’s customs in a day. Remember, the fact that you helped Beccora and me in our time of need will speak well to my sisters and brothers.”

Thanks for the reassurance. I’ll try not to let you down. Please, do me a favor. If I say or do something wrong, or if it seems I’m about to, please let me know.”

“I will, Mitch.”

__________

“Now I know what the Apollo astronauts experienced. The moon is spectacular from this distance, and…now…we’re weightless…” Mitch sighed.

“We are now orbiting Earth’s moon. Look, there is our primary vessel.”

Ahead of them was a dome-shaped spacecraft, with a diameter the length of a football field, gracefully holding its position above the far side of the moon. They coasted towards an open bay on its rim.

“Now, after we come to rest inside my vessel, I will take you to meet the Primus and our specialists.” After a brief pause, Nobrea announced, “Beccora and I are considered specialists on Earth culture and history.”

__________

Beccora and Corrine were herded into a black van to be transported to a secured facility. En route, Beccora had some serious questions for Corrine. “Why did you attack that male? Was it because he was being disrespectful to you? Did he offend you? A disrespectful male on my planet would be referred to the appropriate authorities.”

“I’m sorry you had to watch that. I don’t usually act that way. I’m not a violent person. I don’t know what came over me. It’s just that he was…I mean…I felt the need to protect you – it didn’t do any good, though.”

“I appreciate the gesture. I certainly did not want to act aggressively unless it was absolutely necessary.” She changed the subject, “Now, you asked about who gets to decide questions of fitness for parenthood.”

“Shouldn’t we talk about what to do next?” Corrine interrupted.

“There will be ample time for that discussion later. Do you wish me to tell you more about parenting on my world?”

“Alright. It will at least take my mind off our predicament.”

“Well, deciding who decides is a major problem for any society. We make no claim to have solved the problem, but we have determined a much greater problem is children who are unwanted or ineptly raised. You must understand that the science of genetics on my world has all but eliminated birth defects and congenital diseases. Very few children are born with any need for medical intervention. We also test for genetic compatibility, so offspring are not likely to pass on genetic abnormalities.”

“Wait. The last part of what you just said sounds like what we call, eugenics, and on Earth this implies a goal of creating a master race or eliminating races the majority doesn’t like. To some, your species might be seen as monsters for trying to purify your gene pool.”

“Did you not notice Nobrea and I come from different races? Her markings are clearly a mirror image of mine. Perhaps we should have removed our suits and the difference would have been more obvious.”

“Good point. Now that you mention it, I can recall the difference. I had assumed, and I’m sure Mitch did as well, that each person from your species has unique markings, like human fingerprints, ears, and certain facial characteristics.”

“That is true. In addition, we display several basic pattern variations, analogous to skin colors on Earth. We have made no attempt to alter these patterns, or to enhance any of our genetic codes. We have not tried to create super soldiers or a master race. We have limited our genetic research to fixing problems and curing debilitating diseases. Would you have us allow needless pain and suffering when we have the technology to remove the root causes? We have eliminated nearly all forms of cancer and degenerative brain disease, for example. Would you have us reinstate all the suffering these diseases have caused just so we would not be seen as monsters?”

“No. You shouldn’t revert to a world of random pain and suffering. But who gets to decide who should have children and who should raise them? Who decides what diseases and conditions should be fixed, and which ones should be left alone? What if God, or nature, if you prefer, needs to make an adjustment, so-to-speak? What if your science prevents a serendipitous, but necessary change? And, the big question: Isn’t it true that by deciding these matters in the present, you are disenfranchising all future generations, giving them no choice in the matter?”

“I will agree there is an element of control in our methods. Our assumption is that future generations will be pleased not to be required to live with deformities, disabilities, or genetic death sentences. How many of your people who must live with congenital heart disease, neuromuscular diseases, blindness, or deafness would give almost anything to be cured? What if they could walk or see or hear? What if science could stop their conditions before they begin? Your wisdom literature is full of miraculous cures for people who are suffering. We believe there is nothing wrong with science becoming like a miracle.”

“You make a passionate point, Beccora. But you still haven’t answered my overall question. Who gets to decide?”

“Over time, we have forged a consensus. Just as our primary exploratory vessel has a Primus, so does our world. She has the responsibility of re-forging our consensus each solar cycle. You must understand this is an important responsibility of being the first among equals. Further, anything proposed that will make people less equal is generally rejected. Curing debilitating diseases helps make everyone more equal. The development of genetically engineered individuals with superior abilities clearly does not. We have structured our councils, our governing bodies, to reflect experience, merit, and wisdom more than charisma, manipulation, or posturing, and we have renounced the idea that wealth and power equal ability. So, gaining a genetic advantage, even if this were allowed, would not grant anyone the right to rule, let alone decide anything for the rest of us.”

“So, your society is a democratic world government?”

“Not exactly. We are governed by a set of principles which extend from each smaller organization, such as the primary exploratory vessel Mitch is by now visiting, through smaller states, larger regions, and Orbon as a whole. Each unit is governed the same way – by a Primus – a first among equals – selected by that unit. The position of Primus is held in rotation. That means people take turns. Females are generally preferred for the role of Primus, but sometimes males are selected, if they have the right temperament. We have discovered males often have a predisposition to be unduly competitive and their natural rivalry can cause major disturbances in an otherwise peaceful society.”

“Very interesting. On Earth, women sometimes call male rivalry a “dick-measuring contest.” It seems peaceful negotiations and rational discourse can fly out the window if the men in the room are not stable or wise enough to keep their personal desire to win under control. Sometimes one-man winning means everybody else loses.”

“Females often make our world’s most complex and dangerous decisions. We find females tend to think more holistically and seldom push the limits of a situation to the breaking point,” Beccora added.

“On Earth, we call that brinksmanship. There is good reason that word has man in the center of it. There is no such thing as brinkswomanship, although sometimes women also play the same game. I think you will find petty rivalries and brinksmanship have been part of most conflicts and wars on my planet.”

“While I have noted that aspect of your history, I make no claim my world is free from such behavior. But our insistence on consensus as a founding principle has kept most of it under control. When we disagree, we agree not to make a contest out of every decision. We are compelled by law to find reasons to agree in order to move forward. Without this principle, I would still be on Orbon and we would not be having this conversation.”

“Fair enough. But here we are in the back of a van, headed for parts unknown. Maybe we can find a peaceful way out of this mess. No matter what, I promise to do my best to stick with you.”

__________

Mitch and Nobrea walked along a Swedish-looking corridor towards the bridge of the exploratory vessel. Mitch remarked about the sensation of gravity as they walked. He had anticipated asking, “which way is up?” Instead, he asked, “So, how are you able to provide artificial gravity?”

“Our vessel is powered by a quantum singularity. You would call it a miniature black hole. We simply redirect its gravitational field where we need it to be.”

“Simply, huh? Just like that, gravity on demand?”

“There is obviously a lot more to consider, such as gravitational repulsion, for example. I think you will find the technology interesting.”

“You think?”

“Yes, I do.”

Before the conversation could continue, it was time to meet the Primus and what Mitch thought of as her bridge crew. Perhaps watching too many episodes of Star Trek had shaped his thoughts. Nobrea made the introductions.

“Mitch, this is Cendae, our Primus.”

“Welcome to our vessel, Mitch,” Cendae’s translator greeted him.

Mitch instinctively stretched out his right hand to shake hands, but then realized he hadn’t asked about how Orbonians greet each other. Cendae looked at him curiously.

“Please forgive me, Mitch,” Nobrea interrupted. “This is our usual greeting.” She stepped over to Cendae with her hands raised about chest high with palms out, then briefly touched palms with the Primus. She gestured to Mitch to do likewise.

Mitch realized he had not yet touched either of his guests. Perhaps this is what it meant to ‘boldly go.’ He greeted Cendae in the expected way. She smiled, and then asked, “Why did you extend your hand?”

“It is a custom in many parts of the Earth to ‘shake hands.’ It’s a gesture of good faith. A long time ago it showed that neither of the persons was holding a weapon. You can’t shake hands while holding a sword in your hand. Would you like to try it?”

“Yes. Please demonstrate.”

Mitch reached out and grasped her right hand firmly in his own, moved it up and down slightly, then let it go.

“Interesting,” Cendae commented. “We touch hands for similar reasons. It is also our ritual to show we mean each other no harm. We welcome you as our guest.”

“I am happy to meet you, Cendae, Primus of…this vessel,” Mitch stated. At this point, he noted two things. First, the Orbonians had enviably smooth skin. Second, they had only 3 fingers and a thumb. Why he hadn’t noticed this earlier was beyond him.

Cendae introduced Mitch to the medical specialist, Verenniacca, the engineering specialist, Deenia, as well as the science specialist, communications specialist, and navigation specialist. The six of them constituted the senior crew. Apparently, they had agreed to have their translators on but had forgotten about it, because Mitch overheard several side comments probably not intended for his ears. Among other things, he learned the communication specialist thought he looked ‘pale and puffy,’ while the science specialist thought he looked rather attractive, for a human, that is. The engineering specialist seemed to be making a wager with the medical specialist regarding what she and Mitch might be able to do if she could be alone with him for a time. He tried not to panic. Maybe they were just having a little fun at his expense.

__________

Corrine and Beccora were ushered out of the van into a holding area, where they were instructed to remove their clothes and put on orange jumpsuits. They were then escorted to separate interrogation rooms and shackled to tables. Corrine was livid, to say the least.

“I demand a lawyer!” Corrine shouted as soon as an officer entered the room. “What are you trying to do? My companion came to our world in peace and now you are treating her like a common criminal! I demand a lawyer! I also demand to see someone with more brass than you!”

“Settle down, Mrs. Campbell,” the Captain said patronizingly. “You assaulted a member of the US military. Do you realize you could do serious jailtime for that alone? You also harbored a fugitive. I could have you sent to a detention facility, and good luck seeing a lawyer for weeks after that.”

“Alright, I’ll play your damn game. I’ll tell you everything I know, which isn’t much. My husband and I helped victims of an air crash last night. They aren’t from around here. I’ve had some nice chats with one of them, in spite of your efforts. I suppose you know more than I do.”

“Your ‘companion’ keeps saying, Beccora. What the hell does that mean?”

“What is it they call you guys in basic training?” Corrine paused, and appeared to be trying to remember something. “Oh yes…Dipshit…Well, Dipshit, Beccora is her name. And you took away her uniform, which contains a high-tech translator through which she was talking to me. If you had half a brain, Dipshit, you would realize she just might be able to answer your questions if you gave her back her uniform! Good God, what do you guys use for brains? Or do you just get off watching women change clothes through hidden cameras?”

“I suppose I had that coming. But, procedure, you know. Prisoners wear orange…”

“And you wear…an Air Force uniform. Big deal!”

“Space Force, Mrs. Campbell.”

__________

The tour had hardly begun when Nobrea took Mitch aside. “I must inform you Beccora and Corrine have been abducted by a military unit.”

“What!? Are they alright?”

“We have received a distress signal from Beccora. They are being held temporarily at a place called Grissom Air Force Base. Beccora has informed us that they are unharmed, except Corrine seems to have lost her temper. She attacked one of the soldiers trying to defend Beccora.”

“That’s my girl,” Mitch muttered.

“What did you say, Mitch?” Nobrea replied.

“Oh, nothing. Except to say Corrine will not take this lying down.”

“What does that mean?”

“She will not give up without resisting.”

“That makes sense. Lying down means resting. A person needs to stand up to resist.”

“That’s very good,” Mitch paused, becoming more agitated. “Well…what are we going to do about it?”

“We are not going to do anything for now. Beccora can handle herself and it is unlikely they will be moved before tomorrow morning. Perhaps Beccora can convince their captors to release them soon.”

“I can tell you their release is not going to happen anytime soon. And, I can tell you Beccora is in extreme danger. They will soon lock her up where nobody can find her, and she will be lucky if they don’t experiment on her. We must rescue them immediately.”

“We must not be seen as hostile. A rescue mission could be interpreted as an act of aggression, or war.”

“And kidnapping one of your crew is NOT an act of aggression?”

“We will confer and let you know our consensus.”

“Not so fast,” Mitch interrupted. “I want to be a part of the discussion. After all, my wife and I are part of this too.”

“Very well. Please come with me.”

__________

The guard entered the room with Beccora’s uniform over his arm. He held it out to Beccora who gestured toward the shackles on her wrists. Reluctantly, he unlocked them, so she could get dressed. He did not leave, but took up a position near the door, keeping her in sight. Beccora removed the orange jumpsuit, staring at him all the while. His smirk would have told Corrine he was enjoying the show, but one could not be sure what Beccora was thinking as she put on her uniform. As she was about to fasten it, the guard grabbed her wrists and pressed her to the wall, his face an inch from hers. “I’ll be back to see you later,” he growled.

Beccora’s translator took only a moment to come back on-line, “No. You. Will. Not,” she quickly broke his grip and tossed him across the room much like most people might toss a ball of paper into a nearby trash can. “No male on my world would dare act as you have. I assume your actions are considered improper here as well.”

Dazed, the guard staggered to his feet, his ego and backside clearly bruised. The Captain entered and ordered him out. “That will be all, Ensign. And I do mean ALL. No further contact with the prisoner. Understood?”

“Understood…Sir.”

“Now, let’s have a little talk, Beccora. Please have a seat.”

As he said this, it occurred to Beccora the Captain’s tone was very different from Mitch’s tone the night before. The Captain had many questions of course, and Beccora agreed to do her best to answer all of them, but only if he would promise to have Corrine sent home with no further interruption to her life. She had done all she could and Beccora wanted no harm to come to her. The Captain assured her Corrine would be released soon. “She has to spend some time in jail for assaulting my Lieutenant.”

__________

The meeting with the bridge crew was much more intense than Mitch had presumed. Consensus is not as easy as some people think it is. As they debated the pros and cons of taking action, Mitch was gratified that the Primus asked for his input.

“Well, Cendae, and members of the crew, with all due respect, and speaking as one who knows very little about your ways, I suggest that I be permitted to lead a small group to rescue Beccora and Corrine. My rationale is this. If I were the one to act aggressively, your people could correctly claim I was not representing them, but simply acting to rescue my wife and her friend. Your people would be less likely to be seen as hostile, just compassionate towards a man who was distraught about his wife being arrested. At least consider this as an option, perhaps as a reluctant last-choice option.”

“We will consider what you have proposed. Now, I must ask you to wait in my quarters. Nobrea will escort you.”

At length, the senior specialists reached consensus on three things. First, they would wait until early morning Earth Eastern Time to act. If Beccora signaled her release was imminent, they would proceed with plans to rendezvous with her by midday. Second, in the meantime, Mitch would be taught how to use Orbonian weapons and receive training regarding their technological capabilities, which were by no means insignificant. Third, if Beccora and Corrine were not freed by 0900 Earth Eastern Time, Mitch and two others would take a transport craft to extract the prisoners.

__________

Beccora was as forthright as she could be under the circumstances. The Captain apologized for depriving her of her translator and called his Ensign’s behavior, “inexcusable.” But he needed to know if the Orbonians posed a threat. “That is exactly my mission,” Beccora shot back. “We need to know if the Earth poses a threat to this sector of the galaxy.”

“How so?” the Captain enquired.

“Your world has developed nuclear weapons, has it not?”

“Yes.”

“And rocket technology?”

“Yes.”

“And is working on more advanced propulsion technology?”

“Yes. How did you know that?”

“It is not important. And yet there is no consensus on your planet regarding international cooperation or peacekeeping. Do you understand our concerns?”

“Wait. I’m the one asking questions here. What kind of weapons can your spacecraft deploy? How many persons on your crew? What are your intentions? Are you part of an advance team to perform recon for an invasion?”

“As to weapons, we can defend ourselves adequately, if this is what you are asking. We have a small crew. Our mission is exploratory. There is no planned invasion. We hope to establish diplomatic relations. We also hope to gain knowledge of your world and your society. And we are searching for reassurance your world poses no imminent threat to us.”

“Your people have been secretly spying on us for years. Why would you think we might pose a threat?”

“For the reasons I have already given. You have had nuclear weapons capability since your year 1945. You have abducted me in secrecy to what you consider a secure location, rather than talking openly with me at Corrine’s house. Are these not reasons enough? Shall I go on? How many wars have occurred on your planet in the last century? How many wars are being waged as we sit here? How much of your world’s resources are spent on Earths’ military forces each year? How many times can your current supply of weapons destroy your civilization? Do you even understand the consequences of total nuclear war? Do you realize that not only will your people be unable to survive on your planet, it may take thousands of Earth years for any other civilization to adapt? And, you have asked that question while facing me in a Space Force uniform. How can you be so…obtuse?” Beccora was beginning to lose her composure.

“OK, calm down. Please consider yourself our…guest.”

“If I am your guest – if Corrine and I are your guests – does this mean we can leave at any time?”

“Well, no. We have more to learn from you.”

“You mean you have more information to extract from me. I can see you fear me and my people, even though we have done nothing to harm anyone on this world.” Beccora continued, “We had hoped to be welcomed as guests, as you stated, but if you conclude we are a threat simply by being here, and you intend to imprison us, there is your answer. Mitch went out of his way to help. You have gone out of your way to capture, interrogate, and confine. I leave it to wiser minds to determine which is better.”

“Good night, Beccora. Sweet dreams. Tomorrow you and Corrine will have an all expense paid flight to Area 51. Guard, take her to her cell.”

This time a female Ensign showed up to escort Beccora to a spartan cell. At least Corrine would be housed on the same corridor. The Ensign was at least respectful, and in a way helpful. “Get some rest, Captain Picard said the plane leaves for Roswell at 0800.”

__________

Mitch was well-motivated to learn all he could. In about 12 hours he could ostensibly lead a rescue mission, so there was no time to waste. He learned the ‘weapons’ used by the Orbonians were non-lethal, energy discharge, designed to immobilize, but not to injure or kill. There was not much to learn about their ‘point-and-shoot’ operation. The energy weapon emitted a pulse that temporarily disabled the connection between the brain and voluntary muscles. The recipient would instantly feel a sensation like his bones had turned to rubber and would fall unconscious for two to three hours. All-in-all, it would be  a nice nap. The Orbonians also could deploy technology able to hack security and navigation systems, and even control various vehicles, providing they were automated to begin with. Further, this technology was virtually impossible to hack and Orbonian flight systems were practically infallible. One did not have to be a genius to fly one of their ships. It seems the AI module had you covered. A brief orientation to the main controls was the sole prerequisite.

Mitch suddenly remembered an earlier remark, “Nobrea, when we first met, you said I had passed your test. If your flight systems are so foolproof, how was it that you and Beccora crashed?”

“Mitch, I know it appears we crashed just to test you, but this is not what happened. Understand our scout craft and transport craft use AI technology. When Beccora and I agreed to our mission, there was indeed a wager made with some of the crew. To assure the wager was fair, we also agreed to install a quantum error generator in the scout craft. Much like the way your flight schools test new pilots, the error generator was used to cause a random malfunction in the craft’s flight systems – dangerous, but rarely lethal. The crash was real, and so were the repairs. We simply had no idea what to expect or when or where the crash would occur. The quantum error generator made uncertainty certain. We were unable to make choices that would affect the outcome. It also brought us to you.”

“So, it could have been lethal? You risked your lives on a bet?”

“No. I said rarely lethal. We are both accomplished pilots. The chance of death was extremely small. And, we risked our lives on a principle. We believe when indeterminate misfortune happens, a Good Hittarchan is more likely to appear than someone who is predisposed to do harm.”

“You staked your lives on meeting a helper. In the present social climate on Earth, I’m not sure many people would have taken that bet. So, may I ask, what did you win?”

“The satisfaction of being right…and extra recreational time.”

“Let’s just get Beccora and Corrine home and then you can enjoy your winnings.”

Nobrea paused to listen to an incoming message on her communication device. “We have learned Beccora and Corrine will be on an aircraft travelling to a place called, Roswell, at 0800,” she announced. “They will be accompanied by a male named, Captain Picard, a few guards, and we assume a pilot and co-pilot.”

“That gives me an idea,” Mitch replied. “We need to talk.”

__________

Nobrea brought their ideas to the Primus and senior specialists. “Mitch and I have a plan. We ask you to consider it.”

After Nobrea outlined the plan, the bridge crew discussed it at length. Consensus was achieved. Cendae called for Mitch.

“Here is what we have agreed, Mitch. “Verros and Deenia,” Cendae gestured towards her medical and engineering specialists, “will accompany you and Nobrea on our transport craft. Your team will intercept the aircraft midflight and bring Corrine, Beccora, and Captain Picard to the exploratory vessel. We will follow your plan in its general outline.”

“Verros? I thought her name was…Verenni…”

“Verenniacca,” Verros finished his thought.

“So, why Verros? Is that a nickname? Does it have a special meaning?”

“Everyone calls me Verros. It means Bones, because I am…”

“The medical specialist. I get it. So, have you all been watching Earth television?”

“Of what relevance is television?”

“There was a dramatic series known as Star Trek, in which one of the main characters was a Doctor McCoy, affectionately called, Bones,” Nobrea explained.

“I have not seen it,” Verros said impatiently, much like the Bones of TV fame.

“Too bad, Verros. You remind me of Dr. McCoy,” Mitch chuckled.

Cendae broke in. “Enough. Part of your plan should be to get a few hours rest, Mitch. Verros, please.”

Verros handed Mitch a small vial. “Please drink this,” she said.

__________

A few hours later Mitch awoke strangely refreshed. When he opened his eyes, Verros, Deenia, and Nobrea were staring down at him. He wondered how long they had been watching him sleep, but now was not the time to obsess about Orbonian curiosity. They soon boarded the transport craft and set out. The first thing Mitch noticed was that they had artificial gravity. The next thing was their velocity. They rapidly slipped through the fingers of the moon’s gravitational grip and the Earth increased in size as if they were part of a celestial-scale animation. The Apollo trip of a few days was now less than an hour, and nobody’s internal organs were smashed against their seats. If humans could fly like this, space travel would become an Uber-like routine.

They intercepted the C-130 over western Illinois. The first indication its crew had of any trouble was their sudden inability to control the aircraft or radio for help. It descended to 12,000 feet. Then the cargo door opened, and a 30-foot wide saucer-shaped craft gently placed its leading edge on the ramp. A door on the saucer opened, and before the load specialist and guards could regain their composure, a man in a black flight suit stepped out and shot them with an immobilizer gun. They oozed to the floor and began sleeping like puppies in a box – a large, noisy, metal box. The Ensign assigned to Beccora gasped and reached for her sidearm. Beccora grabbed her wrist. By now, Captain Picard had emerged from the cockpit. He could be overheard shouting at the pilots to “get control of this plane, whatever it takes!”

Mitch retracted his helmet, allowing the Ensign to see he was just a man. He spoke commandingly, “Don’t worry, this is just a training exercise. Beccora is wearing an elaborate costume. What we have there is an experimental aircraft.”

The Captain reached for his sidearm, but before he could unholster it, Mitch immobilized him. “Now, we are going to take the prisoners and leave. Your friends should wake up in about 2 hours.”

Nobrea and Verros, still helmeted, dragged Captain Picard to the transport vessel. Mitch freed Corrine and took her aboard as well. As the Orbonian craft pulled away, the C-130 began to resume cruising speed and altitude. The cargo door eased its way into the upright and locked position. All in a day’s work, thought Mitch, then, don’t get cocky. That was effing dangerous.

The C-130 proceeded towards Roswell on autopilot.

Now that they were safe, Mitch hugged Corrine like he hadn’t seen her in a thousand years. Over her shoulder he saw Nobrea and Beccora greet each other in the usual Orbonian way, with a little twist – they nuzzled like lion cubs as well. Maybe they were more than crewmates. Mitch thought it better not to ask about this now.

__________

Aboard the main exploratory vessel, the crew was ready for Captain Picard’s arrival. Mitch had the idea of backlighting the crew when the Captain was escorted from the transport craft. He had seen this in several movies and was sure the Captain would “appreciate” the imagery. He did. It worked its cinematic magic. Next, he was introduced to the bridge crew, and Cendae solemnly instructed Verros to perform a medical exam. It was poetic justice to see the fear in his eyes as Verros took him by the arm and led him to the medical bay. Nobrea provided backup. Mitch chose not to follow, but as the door was closing, he could swear he heard Verros demand, “Now, remove all your clothing and have a seat on the  examination table.” Oh, to be a fly on that wall, Mitch thought.

The exam was accomplished by way of a non-invasive scanner. It turned out that removing one’s clothing was not required. It was a nice touch though. Captain Picard was relieved there was no probing, but was suitably humiliated, nevertheless.

__________

Mitch and Corrine now had a chance to take a full tour of the MEV, as Mitch called it. Nobrea continued to be their guide. As they walked along another Swedish-style corridor, Mitch started up this conversation.

“Nobrea, I’ve been wondering about something. When I was first introduced to your senior specialists, I overheard Verros and Deenia discussing a possible wager on me…something about what Deenia could get me to do. What was that all about?”

“That was part of a discussion that began before you arrived. You see, Mitch, when an Orbonian female is interested in sexual intercourse with a male, she emits a powerful pheromone – one that our males are practically powerless to resist. In fact, the female must see to it that she and the male are well-isolated by the time the pheromone reaches its peak. If other males are also attracted by it…I should not need to tell you there could be disastrous consequences.”

“So, she was planning to try it on me?”

“No. We have agreed for now human males are off-limits. It would be unethical.”

“That’s a relief,” Corrine chimed in. “So, what were they talking about?”

“Deenia and Verros were merely debating whether the pheromone would work as effectively on a human male as it does on an Orbonian male.”

“Why don’t you try it on the Captain, then?”

“Funny, Corrine,” Mitch countered.

“Would Deenia be willing?” Corrine asked Nobrea.

“I say, wager away,” Mitch responded.

“No. It would be against our consensus,” Nobrea pointed out. “And, Deenia is not interested in Captain Picard. She told me so. But she still finds Mitch interesting…”

“I have an idea,” Corrine winked. “Give me a sample of the pheromone. I’ll try it out on Mitch and get back to you with my experimental results.”

“I’m standing right here, ladies.”

__________

At the conclusion of the tour, it was time to visit the giftshop: Mitch had a chance to confront the Captain man-to-man.

“You’d better send me back, or…” the Captain stammered.

“Or what? The Space Force will nuke this ship? Won’t that show the Orbonians exactly how warlike we are?”

“Well…”

“That’s a deep subject, Captain…you know what? My friends are going to send you back now. The trip will take about four hours. You’ll be taking a scout craft. Before you think about tampering with it or trying to capture it, know this: if you so much as touch any of the controls, the ship could explode, or not. You see my friends have installed a quantum error generator on the craft. If you don’t touch anything, it will remain inactive. If you touch something you shouldn’t it will activate and generate an error. It could be a minor malfunction that you would not be able  to cope with, or something more major, leading to a crash, or even a self-destruct sequence. None of us knows. All I know is that the error generator will remain off, if your hands remain off. Understood?”

“Understood.”

“Also, my friends have seen to it there are no official records of Corrine or Beccora being in custody. As far as anyone knows, this was all a dry run, Beccora was in costume, and Corrine was playing a role.”

“What about the Ensign who was thrown across a room?”

“By a cosplay girl! He’s not going to talk about it, but if he does, remind him for me.”

“Good point.”

“Oh, there’s one more thing. Don’t even think about reporting your close encounter with the Orbonians. Your female Ensign will swear this was a training exercise. My friends have released information to that effect in the media. People who report alien abductions and alien medical exams are generally seen as whackos and crackpots. And, if that doesn’t do it for you, think hard about this headline: “Captain Picard Abducted by Aliens.” Do you understand how crazy that sounds? Your career would be over.”

“OK. You’ve got me.”

“Until we meet again, then.”

“I hope to God that never happens.”

Mitch handed the Captain a small vial. “Here, drink this.”

__________

Captain Picard woke up, in his underwear, about 10 minutes before the scout craft landed. He touched nothing. He scrambled out in his own backyard, at his place near Roswell. “As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,” the scout craft was gone.

Mitch and Corrine made it home in time for a very meaningful Christmas – certainly much more meaningful than Mitch had expected. Years later when they talked about it, the whole story seemed like a dream, or rather the plot of a movie they once saw together, but neither could recall the names of the characters or the actors who played them. It was enough to muse that Good Samaritans exist, and somewhere there might be a civilization that finds them as important as we do.

32 years later, after Mitch died, his daughter found a four-fingered glove in a box on the top shelf of his closet. It was made of a black geodesic-honeycomb patterned material.