My First Attempt at Publishing Fiction

[obiwanbeeohbee]

I think that I may have mentioned before - here and on the previous WOTW Online forum - that I have a journalism background. I worked only briefly, however, as an actual journalist before deciding that I didn't have the stomach for it. But, I never stopped writing and in my second career, I found myself doing a lot of technical writing for my employer. I also have those in my family who are still full-time journalists, coming to me occasionally asking for my assistance and offering free-lance opportunities.

Last year at this time, Mrs. Obi and a couple of her friends, who write fiction themselves and publish on Amazon, directly to Kindle, convinced me that I needed to give e-publishing a try. I'm not getting any younger so I figured "What could it hurt?"

I just finished the first draft of what I plan to be the start of a science fiction series. Mrs. Obi is thrilled with it, but then I think that she's a bit biased. (It was her idea.) I'd actually like to see what some others have to say about it.

I've always enjoyed reading the fiction that other members have posted here and I've also enjoyed participating in some of the collaborative fiction attempts that went on at the old WOTW Online board.

If anyone is interested in reading a chapter or two, while I'm in the process of editing the draft, let me know and I will post some of it in this thread.

Thanks,

Obi

[richardburton]

Post away - we're always interested in reading members' work.

[Lonesome Crow]

Same here. I look forward to reading it.

[obiwanbeeohbee]

This is the full text of the first chapter. It introduces my wife's favorite character...

Chapter 1

8-November-2209

She Who Stalks the Yearling Fawn While the Dew is on the Morning Grass fumbled with the charge core of her jammed phase rifle. It was a very dark night, so the only illumination that she had to work by was supplied by the periodic sweeps of the search lamps on the ground vehicles the hairless apes were using to surround and cut off the remaining felines. The darkness was particularly deep on this night, because it was the middle of the season when the secondary orange sun was hidden in the light of the primary yellow one. Before long, the days would be getting longer and the nights would disappear as the planet moved between the two suns.

Morning Grass continued fumbling with the charge core and cursed the retractable claws on her genetically engineered hands. The claws made felines almost impossible to defeat in hand-to-hand combat, but tended to get in the way when the felines were required to do any tasks where manual dexterity was essential. That isn’t to say the felines were blunt instruments – quite the contrary – they were highly intelligent and their senses were very sharp. They had extra rods in their feline eyes that gave them the ability to see even the slightest movements in very low light conditions from hundreds of meters away. This made them lethal snipers. Their hearing was also more sensitive than that of a pure human and the range of frequencies that they could detect was about twenty percent wider. Finally, they possessed feline stalking and hunting instincts that made them the perfect weapon for silent raids or search and destroy missions.

It was actually a misnomer to call the feline hybrids, “feline”. They were more like humans with the desired animal characteristics genetically spliced in, as most of the creators’ other hybrids had been. The felines were on average two-and-one-quarter meters tall and had perfect human forms. Morning Grass was particularly striking. She was twenty-three years old and had been training physically for battle since reaching full adolescence just before her sixth year. She had muted feline facial features and a flowing white mane that mixed in with the darker hair on her scalp and grew down her neck and back to between her shoulder blades. Her ears were definitely feline. They were set high, like a cat’s, but small in proportion to her more human head.

Morning Grass crouched low in the wheat that had started growing wild in the fields among the settlements since the end of the war with the creators. She finally positioned the charge core correctly for re-insertion into the phase inductor. It fit too tightly, which was a sign that it had overheated and warped, making it unstable. Morning Grass weighed her options. She knew that, even if her luck was perfect, she would only get one more shot from the rifle, since the warped core would stick in the discharge position again when she fired. It would have to be removed manually and re-inserted once more if the rifle was ever to work again after that. It was also possible, if she were not so fortunate, that the unstable core could vaporize during the discharge of the rifle. The transverse shock wave created by the un-dampened discharge of the phase coil would most likely gelatin-ize her entire body and kill any hairless apes found within a three meter radius.

There was one more possibility available for her consideration. Surrender.

Of course, ‘surrender’ only meant allowing herself to be temporarily apprehended. It was also a last resort if capture seemed imminent. The apes used police nets on dangerous prisoners that electronically induced partial paralysis. Morning Grass was familiar with the nets because they were similar to those used by the creators. The effects were temporary and mild in order to prevent the shutdown of the autonomic nervous system, but lasted long enough to transfer the affected individual to a holding cell. If the apes had to transport her very far, she’d almost certainly have a chance to escape. It would only be a slight chance, but she’d rather be killed escaping than end up as a prisoner. She’d never allow herself to be imprisoned by hairless apes.

She lifted the rifle to her shoulder and looked through the scope. The apes were still two hundred meters away but steadily advancing on her position. All communication with her command had been lost at dusk and it was now past midnight. The last order that came through before the blackout was for the remaining feline units to ransack all dwellings for anything that could still be of use to equip an insurgency and fall back to the mountains south of the settlements. Morning Grass and her sergeant, He Who Teaches the Cubs to Hunt the Large Game, along with a half a dozen foot soldiers had volunteered to stay behind to slow the apes down so that their captain, He Who Steals the Calves from the Bison Herds in the Middle of the Night, could fall back with the rest of their platoon and find the remnants of any other units that may be left.

Morning Grass was more than happy to allow Calf Stealer to run away and leave Teacher and her behind to fight. They planned to take out as many apes as possible while slowing their advance through the settlements, or die in the attempt. The felines were outnumbered five to one and faced superior weapons. There would be no time to analyze options or consider alternative strategies. An indecisive wonk like Calf Stealer would only be in the way.

Calf Stealer was the consummate politician and bureaucrat, and his powers of persuasion had brought him much success in the war councils. But, Morning Grass was of the opinion that on the battlefield he was out of his element. He was not a bad officer, he was likable and fair. His courage was never in doubt, but he had no grace under fire. He found making life or death decisions far too difficult and it showed in his overdependence on Teacher and Morning Grass – who currently was a corporal, but next in line to be the platoon sergeant after Teacher made captain – to make important tactical decisions in the heat of battle. By Morning Grass’ assessment, Calf Stealer would be more useful away from the front lines.

It was now obvious that the felines’ only hope to keep possession of the territory they had taken from the creators was to abandon open warfare for now and form a guerilla army to resist the occupation. Those like Calf Stealer would be useful in organizing the resistance. They would also be of value later for negotiations. The felines were determined to make any occupation by the apes costly and tiresome.

Through her phase rifle scope, Morning Grass swept as much of the battlefield as she could see without standing fully and giving herself away. She could see nothing of the foot soldiers that stayed behind with Teacher and her to create the diversion necessary for Calf Stealer and the rest the unit to escape to the mountains. She eventually caught sight of Teacher hiding just outside the apes’ left flank, waiting for them to pass so he could surprise the left-most vehicle from behind. Morning Grass watched Teacher intently. She was upset that he had ordered her to remain hidden and behind the rest. She wondered if his fondness for her was clouding his judgment in this situation. She had much more battle experience than any of the foot soldiers he took with him to ambush the apes.

Morning Grass was very fond of Teacher, also. They had spent many weekend passes together in the drinking establishments scattered among the settlements, pursuing the “prams” that frequented any place where soldiers could be found. The pair’s sexual prowess was legendary, but as yet, none of the “prams” had given them any cubs. She suddenly felt cold and empty as she realized her opportunity to breed with Teacher may have passed forever.

Morning Grass rethought her orders to remain back. Without a reliable weapon she wouldn’t be of any use if Teacher and the rest failed. The felines’ hastily developed plan was to take one vehicle, as silently as possible, and turn its field guns on the rest, taking out as many apes as possible. A fully successful mission would net the felines a vehicle or two and some of the apes’ more powerful pulse weaponry for the resistance. Morning Grass was to remain well back and use her phase rifle to disable as many vehicles as she could if Teacher and the rest failed to capture one. When she went to take her rifle out of safety mode after securing a good sniping position, she found that it was jammed. By that time, Teacher was too far away to signal, so she abandoned the position and fell another hundred meters farther back, trying to find a fallen feline that she could collect another rifle from. But, it was no use. Calf Stealer’s soldiers had taken anything that could be salvaged during their retreat.

She picked the rifle back up and watched through the scope as Teacher stalked the vehicle and its occupants from behind. Just as he was ready to pounce, something that reminded her of a blue-gray bolt of lightning hit him in the middle of the chest from somewhere to his right. His face became expressionless and he collapsed. The apes quickly threw a police net over him and tossed him into the back of the vehicle. “Damn it,” she thought to herself, “These apes’ night-vision goggles must be better than those of the creators!”

Morning Grass cursed their luck as one by one, the rest of the platoon made attempts to pounce on the hairless apes in the vehicles; and one by one the apes stunned and captured them. She knelt lower in the wheat, almost in a panic. She realized that if the apes were not surprised by Teacher, they had probably seen her, also. She stayed as low to the ground as possible and silently made her way toward the closest clump of trees.

“Why had the apes suddenly started taking prisoners instead of using deadly force,” Morning Grass asked herself in the middle of formulating her plan of escape. She had never felt so alone or vulnerable. She fought hard to keep from falling into a panic. She couldn’t explain it, but the thought of being captured was much more frightening to Morning Grass than dying on the battlefield. She only knew that she distrusted and hated all humans; the creators especially.

The creators were hairless apes – they called themselves humans – that looked exactly like those the felines were fighting now. The felines didn’t know exactly where the creators originally came from because that information wasn’t in the archives the felines had captured. So, they could only assume that these humans were also from the home world because they had been warned that more would be coming. The felines knew that this information was contained in the computers of the Ark, but at present there was no way for them to gain an uplink and the few drop shuttles that remained were still under the control of the human remnant on New Australia.

The creators had always maintained that they were socially and economically oppressed by the leadership of the home planet and left it to start a new life on Terra Nova. The felines only knew for certain that the creators were arrogant and deceitful beings who spliced the genes of various other species with their own to create moderately intelligent and trainable hybrids to perform tasks that were considered either too menial or too dangerous for the creators to perform themselves.

They had created the felines to do the dirty work of exterminating Terra Nova’s original inhabitants, with whom the felines now shared a precarious truce. When their purpose had been fulfilled; the creators thought nothing of systematically euthanizing the felines. However, things had not gone according to the creator’s plans.

When the war for independence from the creators was over, information that the felines found in the creators’ archives stated that they were originally to be bred as little more than dumb foot soldiers. They would be engineered with just enough intelligence to be trainable for combat. Their sole reason to exist was to wipe out the native inhabitants of Terra Nova, who were other hairless apes just as socially evolved as the creators, but far less technologically advanced. The most inflammatory information the felines found in the archive was the copy of the plan the creators had devised to corral and destroy them once their massacre of the native Terra Novans was complete.

The felines were not only fighting these humans for survival, but circumstances out of their control that threatened their continued existence. The first few generations of felines had been bred via in vitro fertilization inside incubation tanks. Natural gestation was impossible. The creators gave the females ovaries, but turned off the gene that caused them to develop wombs in order to control the feline population. It wasn’t until the creators were forced by the newly independent felines to genetically engineer and clone “the surrogates”, a second set of female felines with ovaries and wombs, but essentially sterile, that the hybrids were finally able to sexually reproduce without technological assistance.

Had the felines turned out to be the dullards that they were intended to be, the controlled breeding and eventual extermination might have been considered merciful by some. However, something went wrong – or right, depending on your point of view – and the felines developed elevated intelligence; and along with it, ambition and heightened self-awareness. Combined with the hunting instincts of the big cats, these traits made the felines a threat to the supremacy of the creators. Once the creators saw this, they devised their plan to disarm the felines as soon as the last of the native Terra Novans had been wiped out. Even after taking the phase rifles away from the felines, the creators were uncomfortable finding themselves outnumbered by a group of creatures that had superior natural weapons and battle skills. What if the felines came to the conclusion that they had no good reason to accept the creator’s rule over them? It was decided that the felines must be rounded up and placed under tight control until they died out or could be eliminated.

The felines proved to be very loyal to the creators, however, and although they were bred to be quite aggressive, they were unconcerned when the creators disarmed them, and then segregated them away into heavily fortified compounds. There most of the felines stayed until the creators learned just how badly they had underestimated the native Terra Novans.

[richardburton]

It makes for an interesting read with lots of nice ideas, but it does need a fair bit of work. You do a lot of telling without of lot of showing.

Here's the first paragraph -

She Who Stalks the Yearling Fawn While the Dew is on the Morning Grass fumbled with the charge core of her jammed phase rifle. It was a very dark night, so the only illumination that she had to work by was supplied by the periodic sweeps of the search lamps on the ground vehicles the hairless apes were using to surround and cut off the remaining felines. The darkness was particularly deep on this night, because it was the middle of the season when the secondary orange sun was hidden in the light of the primary yellow one. Before long, the days would be getting longer and the nights would disappear as the planet moved between the two suns.

How about this...

She Who Stalks the Yearling Fawn While the Dew is on the Morning Grass fumbled with the charge core of her jammed phase rifle. It was a dark night, the only illumination came from sweeping search lamps from the ground vehicles (WHAT DO THE VEHICLES LOOK LIKE - SQUAT TURTLES???). The hairless apes were using them to surround and cut off the remaining felines. The darkness was particularly oppressive on this night, as it was mid-season when the secondary orange sun was hidden in the light of its big brother (THIS IS TOO MUCH INFORMATION - THIS COULD BE OBSERVED LATER BY ONE OF THE CHARACTERS LOOKING UP INTO THE NIGHT SKY PERHAPS. ALSO MAYBE CALL THE SUNS TWO DIFFERENT NAMES - SOLAR AND SALARA???). Before long, the days would grow longer and the nights would fade into memory as the planet moved between the two suns.

Hope this helps.

[obiwanbeeohbee]

Duly noted and thanks. Actually I have a lot of exposition mixed with the narrative through the first five chapters. After that, they are more clearly separated. I originally tried to put all of the narrative of Morning Grass' attempted escape from the humans in the first two chapters and then use the third to explain who the felines and the humans actually were, but that didn't allow me to introduce small bits of information that I wanted the reader to pick up and then put together later.

My point being that I wanted the reader to form opinions about Morning Grass, the humans, the creators and even Calf Stealer and then allow the reader to learn what motivates them later. It's mostly narrative and very little exposition after that. I believe that I have the first five chapters in the original form in my backups. I will have to go back and revisit.

As for the names of the suns, they are not fictitious objects. The prologue, which I will post later today, introduces the main character of the book, The Historian, who is actually from Terra Nova. His story happens 200 years after the battle that Morning Grass is having with the humans. I won't say where they are from yet, but it should be easy to figure out.

Thanks again!

[Lonesome Crow]

I like it, it reminded me of David Brin's 'Uplift' trilogy.
I do agree with RB, we need more descriptive narrative. They are on an alien world but how alien is it? The hybrids, How much of their feline characteristics do they retain? Are they covered in fur, do they have the marking of the big-cats, do they still have their tails and do they wear clothes? I'm sure most of these questions will be answered as the story progresses but I think most people would like to get a character's description pinned down in their minds as early as possible.



I hope you post more, I'm intrigued.

[obiwanbeeohbee]

Wow, LC! Did you draw that? It's great!

I reworked the description of the felines and Morning Grass just a bit...

Morning Grass cursed the retractable claws on her genetically engineered hands as she continued to fumble with the dismantled weapon. The claws made felines almost impossible to defeat in hand-to-hand combat, but tended to make delicate tasks requiring manual dexterity quite difficult. The felines were not blunt instruments, however. They were highly intelligent and their senses were very sharp. It was actually a misnomer to call them “feline”. They were humans with the desired animal characteristics genetically spliced in, as most of the creators’ other hybrids had been.

They were lethal snipers due to the feline eyes that allowed them to see the slightest movements from hundreds of meters away, even on nights as dark as this. Their hearing was more sensitive than that of a pure human and the range of frequencies that they could detect was about twenty percent wider, making them nearly impossible to sneak up on. Finally, they possessed feline stalking and hunting instincts that made them the perfect weapon for silent raids or search and destroy missions.

The felines were on average two-and-one-quarter meters tall and had perfect human forms. Morning Grass was particularly striking. She was twenty-three years old and had been training physically for battle since reaching full adolescence just before her sixth year. She was powerfully built, but her musculature was not enough to keep her from appearing willowy. She had muted feline facial features and a flowing white mane that mixed in with blue-black hair that grew on her scalp and flowed down her neck to between her shoulder blades. Her feline ears were set high, but small in proportion to her head; which had the subtle suggestion of a feline muzzle, but was essentially human.

I honestly don't have a really good vision of what Morning Grass looks like, myself. It's weird, but when I think of her or any of the other felines, I actually see them as humans. I don't know why that is.

I do imagine Teacher, Morning Grass' love interest, as a very tall, very muscular human with a lion-like face and long straight hair that mixes with a suggestion of a mane. His ears poke through the hair. He actually looks to me in my imaginations like he should be playing guitar in a southern rock band. Again, I don't know why that is... I don't really describe him physically in this book, other than to say that feline and human females alike are attracted to him.

I thought about it and decided to post the following section instead of the prologue that I talked about yesterday. I'm skipping over the conclusion of Morning Grass' capture to the 4th chapter. It introduces one of the more important human characters, Russo, and it also introduces Teacher. Enjoy...

19-November-2209

Morning Grass woke with a ringing in her ears. She felt no pain except for a throbbing in her head. She opened her eyes slowly. There were bright lights and commotion all around her. She lifted her arm and it hit a smooth surface. It wasn’t until she heard a muffled voice and then a mechanical-sounding translation into her dialect that she realized she was in a medical isolation chamber.

“How are you feeling,” the translated voice asked.

Morning Grass opened her eyes and was startled to find a human female looking down at her through the glass. She panicked and started to claw at the lid of the chamber screaming to be let out. Her sharp claws scraped against the glass, but didn’t scratch it. The human pressed a touch pad on the side of the chamber and Morning Grass caught a sudden whiff of an acrid gas that was being pumped in. She began to feel light-headed and started laughing. She laughed uncontrollably for what seemed like an eternity, after which she felt unnaturally calm. It was then that she noticed her left arm and left leg both were missing. She felt around and discovered that there were intravenous tubes connected to her neck and right arm. She studied the tubes for a moment and then looked up again at the human that was looking back at her through the glass. Before she could voice the question, the human anticipated it and spoke up to answer it.

“I’m Dr. Russo. My rank is Major. I’m a medical officer with the Marines assigned to the space carrier S.S. Neil A. Armstrong of the Combined Earth Forces,” the human told Morning Grass in a matter-of-fact tone, “I’ll let you decide if you want to refer to me as ‘Doctor’ or ‘Major’.”

Morning Grass giggled as she thought to herself, “May I just call you ‘ape woman’?” She then realized that she must have actually said it out loud because Russo was frowning.

“Perhaps the Corporal has forgotten," Russo said, sternly, "that not only is she still in the military and speaking to an officer, but that she is also herself mostly human?” Morning Grass’ giggle turned into a full laugh. She turned away and closed her eyes. “Am I a prisoner,” she asked.

“Not at the moment,” the doctor replied.

Morning Grass tapped on the glass. “Then why am I strapped down in this test tube,” she inquired.

“You are now in sterile isolation on the Armstrong being treated for your injuries,” Doctor Russo said. She appeared to be around the same age as Morning Grass. “You lost your arm and leg while you were in the forest. From what we can tell you must have fumbled a grenade. We are dressing your amputated limbs with drugs that have a side effect of making you highly susceptible to infection, so we must isolate you temporarily. But, more about that later,” she continued and then asked, “Are you currently in any pain?”

Morning Grass looked back at the doctor. It angered her that she couldn’t keep from smiling due to the effects of the gas. Unable to outwardly show anger, no matter how she tried, she gave up and laughed again. “No,” she replied, and added in a giggly voice that belied her contempt, “and please don’t let the fact that you are treating my wounds make you think I still won’t kill you when I get out of this glass jar you have me trapped in, missing limbs notwithstanding.” Morning Grass then started laughing hard again.

Russo waited for Morning Grass to calm down. “All hostilities between your species and us have ceased,” Russo told her, “We are now at peace with you and the natives of this planet and we will do everything that we can help you rebuild it and normalize relations between our governments. The expatriates from Earth who attacked the natives and created you as a slave race are now being processed for a return to Earth so that they may face punishment for their crimes against you and their own people.”

Morning Grass looked back with suspicion as her doctor continued.

“You will be given a full briefing by your superiors later,” Russo told her, “But, for now, I need to help you decide if you want us to regenerate a new arm and leg for you.”

Maybe it was the gas, but Morning Grass immediately forgot her hatred of the doctor and developed a keen interest in what she had to say. “How can you do that,” she asked.

Major Russo became more relaxed herself as she saw that Morning Grass was finally calm and attentive. “We use a variation on cloning technology to cause the limbs to grow back," she told the feline, "You are not an ideal candidate for the procedure. Even though you are young and in excellent physical condition…”

Russo was interrupted by another human before she could finish her explanation. This human was male and looked as if he was still in adolescence. He exchanged some words with the Major, after which, she looked down at Morning Grass to excuse herself temporarily. She walked off toward Morning Grass’ right and out of her field of view. Within mere seconds of her departure, Morning Grass had all but forgotten what Russo looked like and began to wonder if she was only dreaming this bizarre experience.

The male human carried a tablet and tapped the screen a couple of times and then looked at Morning Grass. “I have the results of your scans,” he stated, “but I’m just a bit confused.” He went on to ask, “I see ovaries, but no uterus. Have you had surgery to remove it?”

Morning Grass stared back with as much anger and contempt as she could muster under the influence of the sedative gas. “I’m not a silly pram, you stupid hairless monkey,” she yelled, trying hard not to break out into another fit of laughing. She reached down and pulled the sheet away to expose her pelvis and rubbed herself in the general area of her pudenda. Her genetically engineered ovipositor started to swell and curl up toward her belly. Morning Grass burst into another fit of laughter as the human med tech kept looking back and forth from his tablet to her now fully erect ovipositor. Russo returned just in time to prevent the tech from embarrassing himself further.

“I’m sorry about that,” she said apologetically to Morning Grass.
The doctor then sent the tech away and turned back to explain. “The doctors all know better, but they can’t help the temptation to prank the med techs who haven’t been informed as yet. You will have to forgive Corporal Lowell. He truly did not know. You should probably cover yourself back up.”

Morning Grass laughed out loud again, but this time it was not the gas. She realized what she had just done not only confused the young human male, but probably had scared him half to death. He probably still did not fully realize what he had just seen. “I’m sure that was not really a proper introduction to a species with three genders,” she thought, “but it will be unforgettable.” She laughed to herself for a moment and then became uncomfortably aware that Major Russo was not smiling.

“I need to explain the regeneration procedure to you, Corporal Morning Grass,” the doctor said as if she were not happy to be having the conversation. When Morning Grass heard her name, she started to feel a burning in her gut. She knew that something was coming that would require her to make a choice between remaining an amputee, or, regaining her limbs but losing something that she might consider just as dear.

“As I told you earlier,” Russo began, “you are not an ideal candidate for regeneration.” Morning Grass nodded as if she had caught that from the conversation with Russo before they were interrupted, but she truly hadn’t. The doctor continued. “You are young and strong enough, and your other injuries from the blast and the fall are healing nicely. You suffered a puncture in one of your lungs from a broken rib and a head concussion that could have turned worse if we had not treated you so soon after your fall from the tree.”

Russo paused and took a deep breath as she found herself wandering off topic again. She had counseled with other patients about regeneration; lots of soldiers suffered amputations; but this time it would be hitting close to home. “However,” she continued with her voice breaking, “this technique has never been used on a genetically modified being before. Even its use on humans who have received mild gene therapy for congenital defects has been quite limited.”

Morning Grass nodded so the doctor would know that she understood and that the explanation could continue. Russo took a deep breath and paused for a moment. She wanted to be sure to give Morning Grass the best information available so the feline could make a knowledgeable decision about the procedure. Major Russo picked up her tablet and tapped the screen. She looked at it for a few seconds and set it back down. She continued the only way that she felt that she could, her voice breaking.

“When the humans who first came here created you,” the major began, “they used gene-splicing techniques that our doctors and scientists have known for centuries and, in our opinion, they perverted it, horribly. These people took science that ethical doctors and scientists used for the good of all and employed it in a manner that our civilization believes to be unethical and abhorrent. My people do not deny your right to exist, and we do not presume to say that your creation as a species was an evil act in and of itself. What I am trying to explain to you is that the science that was used to create your species was stretched to the limits of our knowledge. Our code of ethics was also ignored in that those who created you did so for their convenience and without regard to your wellbeing or right of self-determination…”

Morning Grass was becoming impatient again. She breathed deeply in and out, and then started to frown. This dissertation on human ethics and morality wasn’t helping her to see what her dilemma actually was. Major Russo saw that she was losing Morning Grass’ interest. The major would have to just lay out the medical facts and then hope that the feline would ask all of the questions that she felt needed to be answered so that Morning Grass would realize what must be asked of her for the procedure to continue.

“Sorry,” Russo apologized, not for wanting to cover the ethical issues first, but for annoying Morning Grass. The major looked the feline in the eye and laid out the bare facts. “We know that the regeneration procedure will restore your limbs and they will be healthy and fully functional. You will grow new muscle, nerves, bone… all of it,” she told Morning Grass, “You will regain all sense of touch and there will be nothing artificial or mechanical. The arm and leg will be exactly duplicated down to the last hair, claw, mole and freckle.” “However,” Russo continued slowly, “in order to start the regeneration, we have to partially reset some of your body’s other processes to gestational levels.”

Morning Grass looked at the doctor. She understood some of what was being explained but couldn’t fully grasp the ramifications. “You mean,” She asked, “that I will become a fetus again?”

“No,” Russo answered, “but the condition is similar in nature. We will be essentially telling your body to start the incubation process over and replace any missing parts. If you’ve had an appendectomy or had any other organs removed, they will most likely grow back. Any scarring on your skin or internal organs will probably turn back into soft tissue. Because of the massive changes that your body will undergo in such a short time you must be drugged into a light coma and suspended inside a cloning chamber while the process is carried out.” “But,” the major continued, “That is not the issue…”

“Why must I be drugged,” Morning Grass asked. The sedative gas was wearing off and she was starting to be suspicious of Russo’s motives again. “Why must you put me in a coma,” Morning Grass asked yelling at the top of her lungs, “I won’t let you drug me!” Morning Grass didn’t understand why the thought of being drugged into unconsciousness bothered her so much, but it made her hysterical. At any rate, she did not want to become an experiment. She started screaming, “No!” at the top of her lungs.

“You will have to be in the cloning tank for at least ten weeks with no food or drink, breathing the fluid,” the major shouted, trying to regain control of the conversation, “Not only that, but even if there were a way to keep you fully conscious through all of it, we can’t give you any analgesics or other drugs that might interfere with the quasi-gestational processes. The pain would be excruciating. You’d never survive it!” She needed to calm Morning Grass, but was afraid to use the gas again and risk an overdose.

“I can handle pain,” Morning Grass growled, “I won’t let you put me into a coma while you do whatever you want with me! Damn you! Let me out of this bottle!”

A familiar face appeared next to Major Russo and Morning Grass heard a voice speak to her that needed no electronic translation.

“You will calm down and cooperate fully with the medical personnel aboard this military vessel, Corporal Morning Grass,” spoke the feline male; in an assertive manner that was stern, but not to the point of showing disapprobation. This was an order that Morning Grass responded to quickly. It was Teacher. He then asked the major to continue. Russo looked down at her tablet for a few seconds as if trying to gather her thoughts before proceeding.

While the major wasn’t looking, Teacher winked at Morning Grass. Morning Grass smiled back at him. Russo looked up from her tablet to Morning Grass and the feline blushed as if the major had caught her passing notes in class. The major then looked up at Teacher. He looked back at her with a sheepish smile and shrugged. Russo looked back down at Morning Grass who was fighting to keep from laughing but could not hide her smile. Russo smiled also when she realized that there was something between the two felines. She knew that what she had to tell Morning Grass next would not be easy for her to take. She looked back down at her tablet and waited until she could put a more serious expression back on her face before speaking again.

“Sergeant, I am very glad that you are here to give Corporal Morning Grass some moral support,” Russo said, “I was about to tell her about the possible dangers involved in regenerating her lost limbs.” “Corporal,” she continued, now directing her conversation back to Morning Grass, “as I said before, we use this technique cautiously and rarely on those who have had any previous genetic therapy. Because you are a product of genetic engineering, we cannot be sure if the genetic switches we must flip to start the regeneration will cause a cascade that may affect the genes manipulated during the original creation of your species. As a result, we do not know if there will be any undesirable side effects or even a desirable genetic leap for your species. You must consider this when deciding whether or not to proceed.”

The first question on Morning Grass’ mind was, “What kinds of side effects were possible?”

The major told her that the most common side effects could range from something as minor as a change in eye or hair color to something as serious as the shutdowns of whole organs. It was possible, but not very likely, that her intelligence could raise or drop, and it was even conceivable, but next to impossible, that she could become fully a human and lose all feline traits. Russo explained to Morning Grass that she was certain that there would be some genetic drift; but, the great likelihood was that it would end up being inconsequential.

The final thing that Major Russo imparted to the feline was a stern warning not to attempt to reproduce after the regeneration therapy. When Morning Grass asked why, Russo said, “Because every human, male or female, who has undergone both gene therapy and regeneration of a limb or other body part has passed along serious congenital defects to one hundred percent of offspring conceived after they had the combination of therapies. Even the least serious of the congenital defects shown in the human offspring shortened and diminished the quality of their lives to the point where it became a moral and ethical issue for the medical community. They now counsel strictly against regeneration patients with previous gene therapy from breeding. It makes you unable to viably reproduce. I’m sorry, but you need to know.”

Major Russo allowed the information to set in. She saw that Morning Grass and Teacher were locked in a gaze. “I’ll leave you to think it over,” she told the feline, who was now on the verge of tears, “I’m sorry, but the window of opportunity to successfully regenerate your limbs is closing quickly. It would be best if you could answer me by this time tomorrow at the very latest.” The doctor turned to leave. She couldn’t avoid the desire to give some form of comfort and patted Teacher on the back before walking away. He acknowledged the gesture of support and kindness with a smile and thanked the major for her help.

“I will never be able to give you children now, Teacher,” Morning Grass sobbed once Russo was out of sight, “I wish you could hold me right now… so badly.” She reached up and touched the glass of the isolation tube she was in. Teacher put his hand over hers. They were silent for what seemed to be hours.

Finally, Teacher spoke. “You need to know what has been going on,” he told her, “You have been unconscious for over ten days.”

“That long,” Morning Grass asked.

Teacher nodded in the affirmative. “These humans are from the home world. They are promising to round up the remnant of the creators from New Australia and the west coast of the big continent,” he stated, with a tone of satisfaction, “the Terra Novans were communicating with them from the moment they arrived in orbit. If we had not been so quick to end routine communications with the natives after we freed ourselves, we’d have known who the Earth humans were and why they were here. We would not have lost so many soldiers for no good reason.”

“No good reason,” Morning Grass asked, looking at Teacher as if he had lost his mind, “No good reason? These are humans, Teacher! They can tell us that they are not of the ilk of the creators, but if they come from the same planet, and the same culture, they can’t be all that unalike. I say to trust these humans is tantamount to forgetting what the creators were and trusting them again.”

“The Terra Novans trust them, Morning Grass,” Teacher said, even though he didn’t expect that fact to make her to give in and see reason.

“The Terra Novans are humans,” she replied. Her teeth were clenched.

Teacher was very familiar with this behavior. It meant that he would be wasting his time trying to convince Morning Grass that her inflexibility and prejudice toward humans was not endearing her to anyone. He tried to calm himself before responding. “Maybe so,” he said, trying not so scold her, but failing miserably, “however, not one Terra Novan has ever taken up arms against a feline except in self-defense. If they ever were to, I’m not afraid to say I believe they’d be justified.”

“We only attacked the Terra Novans at the whim of the creators,” was Morning Grass’ final argument, “Once we realized what was going on, we never attacked them again.” She closed her eyes and put her arm by her side. She seemed to be getting weary of the argument and he could see that she was almost exhausted from the day’s excitement and difficult news.

Teacher looked down at Morning Grass. It upset him that she was so resolute in her dislike of the Earth humans but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He wanted to change the subject to what had been happening on Terra Nova since the ceasefire. However, he could see that anything he told her at this point was not likely to be taken as good news. He decided that it might be better to just sit with her and remain quiet until she fell back to sleep.

[Deleted]

Wow. This story is really good.

[Lonesome Crow]

Oct 31, 2010 4:22:42 GMT 1 obiwanbeeohbee said:

Wow, LC! Did you draw that? It's great!

Yes I did, though having just read this chapter I think that my picture of the felines needs more human characteristics, I've made her too cat-like.

I'm liking this story.

[Lonesome Crow]

Had another go and a rough one of Teacher also.





I've given Morning Grass subtle cheetah markings.

[obiwanbeeohbee]

Wow! Thanks for all of the encouragement.

This post is the prologue to the first book. The events in the prologue happen two hundred years after Morning Grass' capture. It introduces the Historian. He is a former marine colonel named Herbert Zheng who was born and raised on Terra Nova. He teaches history at the League of Aligned Planet's most prestigious military academy. He is also desperately trying to make sense of the events surrounding the journey of the creators to Terra Nova and the eventual arrival of the Earth battle group. I will tell you more about the evolution of the Historian later, but his history lectures started out to be the framework that I would use to tell the story of Morning Grass and those that lived in her time, but it grew to be much more.

The government in the Historian's time practices revisionist history, gross censorship of the news media and unabashed spinning of current events. They don't even deny it. They inform the people very proudly that it is this policy that keeps the peace and that they do it for the greater good. That theme is covered more in depth much later in the book, but it is mentioned in this prologue.

I also introduce a minor character for this book, but one who might see more print later on. His name is Simas Non. Simas is a freshman cadet from the planet Ekkida. I won't tell you anything about Simas until you get a chance to hear about him from the story.

I will be away from home on business this week and may not have internet service where I'm staying, so if I don't get to post anything else until Friday or Saturday, I'm sorry.

Please enjoy!

31-August-2409
The Historian took his place at the podium in the front of the auditorium. The holographic environment generator made the auditorium appear to be an open amphitheater on a warm spring morning in ancient Greece. It was one of the Historian’s favorite recreated environments and particularly pleasing this day because the outside temperature was below freezing and there was snow a meter deep on the grounds in front of the building.

There were over one hundred holographic environments from different planets stored in the generator’s programming and they could be modified to account for temperature, humidity and time of day. The instructors were required to change them every class, for reasons known only to the educational psychologists hired by the holographic environment generator manufacturers to consult the Academy on subjects like holographic environment generation. Environments could be repeated during a term, but not more than once. The Historian tried to schedule the environments in his auditorium so they reflected, even if the connection was only superficial, the topics of his daily lectures. This morning, he was covering the origins of initial members of the League of Aligned Planets and he was eager to draw parallels between the home worlds of the founding races and the ancient Grecian city-states.

He looked out over the class of freshman cadets and smiled to himself. When he first started teaching history at the military academy twenty years ago, the classes were filled mostly with human cadets and the usual complement of felines. This class was comprised of only about sixty-percent human races and more closely representative of the population at large in the aligned planets than any he’d seen. There were even representatives from the saurian races of Procyon A V and Sirius A/B IX.

The saurian races had only recently applied for admission to the League and were in the beginning stages of having their genomes mapped by the League’s health organization. The preliminary results were quite interesting. Both species shared over ninety-nine percent of their genetic makeup with each other and the reptilian, amphibian and bird species found on Earth, Alpha Centauri A IV and Epsilon Eridani IIIa. The League’s geneticists had already discovered that all of the humanoid races in the League shared above ninety-eight percent of their genomes with each other and the primates on their respective worlds. And, the Homo sapiens that originated on Earth, Alpha Centauri A IV and Epsilon Eridani IIIa were nearly indistinguishable, genetically speaking. As the geneticists studied more of the species on the aligned worlds, they became more convinced that life on those worlds had a common origin. The final piece of information that they would need to prove this hypothesis was destined to be revealed in the not too distant future, in an unexpected place.

The Historian was also happy to know, for the first time in almost a century, the cadets of this class would not be needed to participate in occupations or police actions on worlds whose populations had not completely accepted the League’s governance. Sirius A/B IX and all of its colonies spread among the habitable planets and moons around that double-star system were finally united. The Terran mining colonies around Barnard’s Star, Wolf 359 and Ross 128 had also become much more civilized over the last few years, thanks to the second generation of faster-than-light spacecraft engines that had made them far less isolated.

The Historian lit the screen on his tablet. He had the day’s lecture memorized, but having the notes open would help him get back on topic should he be sidetracked by any questions. He loved questions. Questions meant that the class was listening to his lecture and actually paying attention. Civil History wasn’t the most interesting subject, but it was an essential pre-requisite to the Military History class that he would be teaching to this same group next term. Of course, being ex-military himself, the Historian would have a bit of trouble keeping the syllabi of the two courses straight and would cross over many times during the next two terms, but his ability to keep the cadets engaged and interested would ensure that they would not mind absorbing information that they might not be tested on until the following term.

Although they would soon come to know how he earned the title “Historian”, the many cadets that passed through his classes first came to know him as Colonel Zheng. He was a human from Terra Nova (Alpha Centauri A IV) whose ancestors migrated to that system from Earth on the last wave of sub-light ships during the early years of the colonization period. The Historian’s great great great great grandfather, Arthur Clarke Zheng, was born on Terra Nova after his parents met and married on one of the huge colony ships. They were young and idealistic and on the way to help with the Terra Novan reconstruction.

When his parents decided to return to Earth after twenty years and take his younger siblings with them, Arthur decided to stay behind, even if it meant that he might never see them again. Earth sounded enticing, but Terra Nova was the only home he’d ever known. Arthur married a woman named Maza from a very prominent Terra Novan family. At that time it was a novelty for human cultures from different planets to intermarry and his marriage made the news on both Earth and Terra Nova. As a result his family name was among the very first of many more Earth lineages to be permanently transplanted to that world. Of course, since that time, the human races from around the League of Aligned Planets have been interbreeding almost constantly; and the term “planet of origin” has become nothing more than part of a home address for most.

The Historian cleared his throat to speak. “I realize that this is the first day of class, but have any of you bothered to read ahead in the text,” he asked.

The question elicited a hardy laugh from the cadets. They had been forewarned that if they were to have any chance of passing the class at all, they would need to have read the whole text, written by the Historian himself, before the first exam. Other instructors used all available media in their classes. They used printed material, audio and video, holograms and holographs. All the cadets got from the Historian was a copy of his text to read and a daily lecture. He gave the same exam with the identical five essay questions every second Friday of the term. The questions were not difficult, but the required length of the answers increased with each exam.

It seemed at first to be a strange method of teaching. If you answered the questions correctly on the first exam, all you had to do to pass the succeeding exams was to elaborate more on the answers you had already given. But, therein lay the genius of the Historian’s teaching method. The students already knew the names and dates by the first exam. By the final exam, if they followed the lectures closely, they knew the true significance of those names and dates – mainly because the Historian was a master storyteller and he could make the historical figures that he lectured on come to life for those who listened.

The Historian looked around the class for a particularly nervous-looking cadet to poke some fun at. His eyes settled on a tense male human who was uncomfortable returning his glance. The cadet had a red sash covered with silvery geometric embroidery hung around the waste of his uniform. The Historian knew that the sash identified the cadet as a member of an upper-caste family from Epsilon Eridani IIIa, or as it is called by the natives, Ekkida.

Although lower-caste Ekkidans were found everywhere in the League, upper caste Ekkidans rarely left the home planet. Even then, they were usually only found in banks, courtrooms and all of the other places where bloated bureaucracies flourished. Ekkidan aristocrats cared little about other cultures and didn’t generally want to listen to anything that didn’t directly affect their well-being, social status or bank accounts. Somehow though, the Historian didn’t feel a particularly snooty presence from this cadet.

“What can you tell me about the general state of most of the aligned worlds around the time of Earth’s early colonization period, Cadet Aro?...”

“Cadet Aro Simas Non, Colonel, Sir,” came the reply from the Cadet. The Historian knew he was Aro by the color of his sash, but the surname of the family came as a total shock.

Non stood, saluted and proceeded to answer the question in a predictable tone and manner. “Sir! I know nothing of that period in history except what enterprises my ancestors were engaged in at the time and what I have read in your fascinating text book, Sir,” Non stated, as if he had memorized the response as part of a litany. He then saluted the Historian and sat back down.

The Historian smiled and asked Non if he cared to elaborate. Non stood back up and saluted again. “Begging the Colonel’s pardon, Sir! I’m not sure why that would be necessary, Sir,” he bellowed with a look on his face that showed no sign of confusion, “You already know what is in the text, and the endeavors of my family during that period would not be pertinent to the lesson.”

The rest of the cadets laughed out loud. Non seemed not to notice. The Historian smiled at Non and thought very carefully about his reply to the Ekkidan Aro standing resolutely before him. “I meant for you to elaborate on – for the edification of the class – what you read in the text,” the Historian said. He knew full well that this wouldn’t be the last time that he would have to explain a question to Non. Not because Non misunderstood him or didn’t speak the shared language of the Aligned Planets fluently. But because Non knew the language too well. The Historian was aware that this young Aro was, by his upbringing, already a master of obfuscation and quite capable of exploiting any type of perceived or explicit statements of obligation via oral communication, but for some reason he’d given the Historian an out. The Historian would have to explain himself clearly and concisely to Non from then on. Use of colloquialisms or metaphors that could be misinterpreted would have disastrous results. He would also have to be careful not to allow himself to make the mistake of being drawn into any casual contracts with Non – at least in front of any of his classmates.

Ekkidan Aros were experts at using your words against you. And Non’s family was notorious for being the representatives of Epsilon Eridani IIIa when the charter of the League of Aligned Planets was originally penned. Aro Meqqar Non and his team of negotiators secured, for Ekkida, virtual control over all commerce in the early days of the League. Ekkida would mint all of the League’s hard currency and have control of the computers that enabled all electronic financial transactions.

After seeing what the Ekkidans had done to them, the other races quickly established their own schools to teach politicians and businesspeople the highly refined art of negotiation – Ekkidan style. Of course, the Ekkidans, or more specifically the upper caste Ekkidans, were more than happy to enter into negotiations to supply the various schools with instructors, and to devise the curriculum. To ease the grumbling of the rest of the Aligned Planets, the League’s Central Government eventually put together a committee of jurists, politicians, businesspeople, warriors and laymen to establish a universal language, alongside the common language that the Aligned Planets had shared for years, specifically for use in commerce, government and the military.

The “High Language”, as it became known, had a very small vocabulary and each term was defined to represent only one concept. If the concept was broad, and could apply to different situations, there was an official list of modifiers. Even then, The Ekkidans took the rest of the League to task, doing post mortems on every contract, treaty or piece of legislation trying to find loopholes or ambiguities that could be used to further their agendas.

The Historian looked intently at Cadet Non. The cadet realized that he was not going to be able to refuse to answer the Historian any longer. He had employed the gambit of precisely defining the crux of the negotiation early and not allowing the Historian to assume what the difficulty was, but the Historian snubbed the invitation to throw options on the table and engage. Non was disappointed that he had not managed to secure any extra credit for his answer.

Just as Non started to open his mouth and finally answer the question, the Historian waved him off. Non saluted again and sat down. The Historian decided that it might not be a good thing to allow Non to be seen as losing a negotiation in front of the class, even though he ascertained by the almost unanimous blank looks that nobody but Non and he knew what had actually transpired during their exchange.

The Historian looked at his tablet. He again cleared his throat and addressed the class. “Actually, I believe that what the Ekkidans were up to at that time has a great deal to do with what we will be covering today. But that is for a later lesson,” the Historian said, looking once again at Non and smiling. “Today, however,” he continued, “Let’s discuss the Earth’s early colonization period, in detail. Open your text to page thirty-seven…”

[obiwanbeeohbee]

LC. I just saw the new drawings and showed them to my wife. We are both very impressed. I hope you don't mind, I downloaded all three to my hard drive. Thanks again!

[richardburton]

Liking how the story and characters are developing. Love the drawings too, LC!

[Lonesome Crow]

Nov 1, 2010 1:52:34 GMT 1 obiwanbeeohbee said:

LC. I just saw the new drawings and showed them to my wife. We are both very impressed. I hope you don't mind, I downloaded all three to my hard drive. Thanks again!

You are welcome, I'm glad you like them. I'm really enjoying this story and hope you eventually turn it into a book, I'll certainly buy a copy.

Cheers RB.