RVA: The Exchange Student, Chapter One
May. 20th, 2024 05:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jeriendhalHonestly I'd almost forgotten about my Dreamwidth account, but given the mess on certain other social media platforms I should post here more regularly. So here's the start of a little story I've been working on set in the early days of my RVA universe, inspired by cozy works like Travis Baldree's Legends & Lattes and more directly by
rix_scaedu 's The Travels of Anadrasata Nearabhigan which I strongly recommend you support on her Patreon .So without further ago, please enjoy The Exchange Student. And if you like this story, please consider supporting me on my own Patreon.
***
The Exchange Student
Being the Diary of Librarian Lieutenant Willahmet Bookbinder, born in Hivebreed District, in the Mother Country, the planet Motherhome, of Her Experiences as a Student at North Maryland College, North American Union, Earth
Edited by Thomas Murayama
Translation by Naziha Syverud and Razahinda Tunneldigger
This edition published by Ares Academic Press, Carl Sagan University, Mars, North American Union.
Introduction to the 5th Edition
This edition of Ambassador Bookbinder’s classic personal memoir comes at a fraught time in the relations between the Human Federation and the Foxen Protectorate. Though the revelations in Dr. Alisha Rodriguez’s bombshell paper Clarifications on the History of Foxen/Human First Contact remain highly disputed in the popular press, corroborating details, particularly the recent excavations in Darktail District, cannot be ignored. What was once thought as a peaceful and highly successful first contact between two alien races has been revealed to be a painful tale of accident, imprisonment, missteps, murder, and a near massacre.
In particular, the revelation that Commander Jackson’s son Thomas was conceived while she and her partner Lt. Commander Kevin Curnow were imprisoned by the Mother Country Intelligence Ministry brings new light to the previously highly elliptical entries in Chapter [XX]. It seems obvious in retrospect that Commander Jackson must have confided to Bookbinder some of the secret details concerning First Contact with the young vixen, and like Lord Rolas Darktail 1st she chose to take those details to the grave. We can only hope that also like Lord Rolas, Bookbinder secretly wrote them down as well in some other, undiscovered memoir, so that future generations might learn from our ancestor’s errors.
Thomas Murayama, Lowell Station, Mars
Editor’s Notes: Updated notes on history and context have been added to the text, in addition to Bookbinder’s original footnotes. These updated notes are marked as “-Ed”, while Bookbinder’s are marked “-BB” to avoid confusion.
Part One
Chapter One
January 7th, 2203
Relevant Points: A brief biography. I arrive on Earth. I am given a generous gift.
It has been three days since my arrival on Earth. I had intended to write my first entry on the day of my arrival so that my recollections would be fresh, but as you will soon see I had cause to be much distracted.
Additionally, as I am writing this on Earth, I will be using the human dating system, as Motherhome’s differing rotational period around both its star and its pole makes tracking the dates of my homeworld difficult on this planet. [1]
First, I should introduce myself to you, dear reader. I am Librarian Lt. Willahmet Bookbinder. I was born on the 120th day of the 301st year since the Founding of the Council of Countesses, in the town of Brickkiln, Hivebreed District. My parents are Lt. Commander Alverus Bookbinder and Captain Timony Bookbinder, and I have served with them since being inducted into the Librarian Service at age 17. Officially at least. In truth I was following my mother and father in a haphazard apprenticeship since I could first sound out the words on a page around age four.
It was also at age four that news of the Endeavour’s arrival and first contact with the Human Federation became public. It is embarrassing to recall her my first reactions to seeing the faces of Captain Jackson and her crew in the news cinemas, taken when their shuttle had arrived at the Mother Country capitol. Such revolting, flat, furless faces, such enormous feet to keep their balance as they walked without tails. But the humans’ mission was one of peace, as they arrived to offer exchanges of friendship and knowledge with planet Earth and its sister world of Wazaga Prime.
Four years after Endeavour had returned home more ships began to arrive, and a carefully curated exchange of culture and science began between the human and foxen planets, with humans setting up a small embassy in the capitol, and foxen leaving Motherhome to do the same on Earth.
When I heard the announcement that the human and foxen governments were offering the chance for two ordinary foxen students to travel to Earth to attend a human university, I had submitted my little essay to the screening committee mostly as a lark. Literally hundreds of thousands of students of all three castes, Noble, Service, and Commoner, sent in essays and biographies in the hopes of being chosen for those two special slots. I thought my own chances of winning one was astronomical at best. Still, both my parents and my teachers at the Academy of Service had encouraged my entry.
It was a pleasant surprise when the handwritten note from the secretary of our domain’s lord had arrived, informing me that I had made it to the second round of screening.
When I received the personal call of congratulations from our district’s countess for making it to the third round, the shock had left me stuttering like a fool over the telephone.
When I had been summoned to the capitol to meet the twenty or so remaining candidates in the rotunda of the Council of Countesses, I thought I was dreaming.
When they announced my name as the second candidate, I had very nearly fainted in the council chamber, only held upright by force of will and not wanting to embarrass my parents and teachers, who were all beaming at me from the audience with pride.
Next came the intense period of my life, as I met with my human teachers for the first time and began a migraine inducing attempt to learn three of the major languages of Humanity; Mandarin, English, and Arabic simultaneously.[2] I had honestly believed I was gifted at languages before then, having learned Gerwart and Liltong with relative ease. But human languages were made for their flat mouths and flat teeth, not long foxen muzzles and fangs. I’d thought I was going to go mad, at least until I realized that my teachers were learning almost as much of the Mother Tongue and Gerwart from myself, as I was learning their languages.
And then it was time for the exhilarating ride up to orbit on a human space shuttle to the Columbia and begin the two-year journey with my fellow student and two dozen older foxen, a mixture of diplomats, scientists, and industrialists, all of whom were going to spend at least ten to twenty years on a strange, alien world, in the hopes of returning with knowledge to spread to the people of Motherhome.
I pray you will forgive my failure to record my time aboard the Columbia. Other paws will have written extensively concerning the journey between Earth and Motherhome, and in truth there is little I can add to previous accounts.[3] Suffice it to say it was a wonder when I first boarded the Terran Confederation vessel, with its fabulous technology so far in advance of humble Motherhome. But even wonders can become familiar when one is constantly exposed to them over the course of a two-year journey, however they amazed me at first.
So it was that we finally arrived at Earth, and I found myself preparing to leave the amazing ship that had been my home for two long years.
I did a final check on my appearance in mirror in the cabin’s tiny Necessary. I had chosen to wear my dress uniform for this auspicious day with the light blue cravat of a Specialist Librarian Lieutenant 1st Class knotted at my throat, my right shoulder braid sparkling with a small array of medals denoting my service assignment history, honorable conduct awards, and training specializations. One of the first was unique, a book embossed with a starburst, denoting my status as the first Librarian Service member to be assigned to another world. I had also clipped my claws down and sanded them smooth, so I wouldn’t damage the white linen gloves I wore over my paws, an honor I’d received after completing training in the handling of rare books.
“You’ll do well, Willahmet,” I told my reflection. I drew in a breath, taking firm hold of the handle of my wheeled trunk and stepping out into the corridor of the Columbia’s rotating passenger section, heading towards the lift that would bring me up to the ship’s central hull.
I was finally here, orbiting the humbly named Earth, home of Humanity and the center of the Terran Confederation. And twelve years from now when I came home, I thought, I would be famous. I would probably be promoted to Librarian Captain, head of my own branch in a city, or maybe even reach the lofty heights of Librarian Colonel, overseeing an entire domain’s system.
“Librarian Lieutenant Willahmet Bookbinder, please report to the docking airlock. Librarian Lieutenant Willahmet Bookbinder, please report to the docking airlock,” said a voice over the announcement system in English, which shook me out of my daydreaming and making me quicken my pace towards the lift.
First, get down to the planet, Willahmet, I told myself wryly. Librarian Colonel will have to wait.
I entered the lift, towards the next step in my journey.
###
As the lift moved upward towards Columbia’s central hub, the gravity dropped away, leaving me (and my luggage) in freefall. While I was able to steady myself by holding tight to a padded stanchion, I found myself having difficulty holding my trunk with one hand, especially given its mass.
Fortunately, Lt. Bihaar, the Columbia’s Third Pilot, was waiting for me when the ceiling of the lift opened into the non-rotating central hub, a cheerful smile on his face. Bihaar is a wazagan, a member of the first alien race the Human Federation contacted and a draconic being usually wearing an insulated flight jacket, well over three arms[4] tall, his skin consisting of thousands of tiny deep blue scales, his long, dark purple headpelt woven into dozens of tight braids, all pulled neatly back as he floated in the central hub.[5]
“I was worried you might want to stay aboard and head straight back home,” he joked, reaching over to help me maneuver my trunk, now weightless but still massing over twenty kilos, into the corridor. Like most of the wazagans aboard the Columbia, Lt. Bihaar was a phlegmatic fellow, conscientious in performing his duties, but quite friendly to myself and the ship’s other foxen guests.
“No chance of that, Bihaar,” I replied, feeling my ears heat up. “I hope I haven’t kept everyone waiting.”
“Nah,” he reassured me. “We’re still waiting for the final checks on the airlock seal before popping the main hatch. Can’t be too careful after keeping it closed for over five years.”
“I imagine not,” I agreed. Together we made our way forward towards the front of the ship. It was unusually crowded now, as the crew that had no duties related to the ship’s docking waited for the hatch to open, eager to return to the surface of their homeworld after a five-year absence.
Captain Nguyen [6]was waiting there as well, floating near the rest of our foxen delegation. When he spotted me, he waved myself over to him, holding out his hand to exchange paw grips in the human manner of greeting. He is a heavyset man with a deeply lined face, balding grey headfur (really, it is amazing how much fur humans could lose, given how little they started out with), and had been chosen to captain the Columbia as much for his skill as diplomat as well as a shipmaster.
“It’s been a pleasure having you aboard, Lt. Bookbinder,” he said to me warmly. “I hope you find my home as pleasant a place to live for the next few years as I found yours.”
“I’m certain I will, Captain Nguyen” I replied. I confess I flinched at that moment, as another voice joined the conversation.
“Just don’t embarrass us down there, Librarian Lieutenant,” Lord Kerrick said, as I turned in midair to face him. Lord Kerrickagan Swordsharp was the other student chosen to travel to Earth. Though he is handsome enough, with bright golden fur and piercing blue eyes, he had wasted little time after we had boarded Columbia in reminding me that he was the senior member of their part of the foxen delegation, by his rank as member of the Noble Caste, his education at one of the most exclusive noble finishing schools compared to my own humble regional service academy, and by his choosing to attend a university in the prestigious Human Federation capitol in Geneva, rather than the smaller institution that I had opted for.
“I won’t, milord,” I stated calmly. It had been impossible to avoid interacting with Lord Kerrick over the past two years, but I’d done my best. Of course, I owe him deference given his superior rank, but he does not make maintaining comfortable relations between Service and Noble Caste ranks easy.
Everyone grabbed for a stanchion and pulled themselves back slightly, as a warning came from the bridge that the hatch was about to open. Electric motors whined and the airlock hatch opened backwards into the foyer. A light skinned human woman even older than Captain Nguyen was waiting on the opposite side. She gave the captain a sharp salute, and said formally, “Leonov Station welcomes you home, Columbia. It’s good to see you again, Captain Nguyen.”
The captain’s face broke out in one of those disturbing human grins, lips peeling back to expose his flat teeth and gums. “And good to see you as well, Commander Taylor,” he replied. He returned the salute and then pushed himself forward, the humans grabbing each other to spin slowly in the airlock, exchanging an entirely unmilitary, but obviously heartfelt hug.
Releasing the captain, Commander Taylor turned back to face the crowd in the airlock foyer. “Viscount Blackfang,”[7] she said, addressing the senior member of our delegation, “on behalf of the Terran Confederation, the Earth Exploration Agency, and my people, we welcome you to Earth. We hope your stay here will be both enlightening and educational.”
“Thank you, Commander Taylor. We are all grateful for your transport and hospitality,” the viscount returned the greeting politely. “Speaking of which, what arrangements have been for us to reach the surface? We’re all eager stand under an open sky again.”
“All has been taken care of, sir. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you down to the station lounge, where you can wait while your cargo is transferred to the shuttle that will take you to Geneva Aerospaceport,” Commander Taylor informed him. She gestured for the group to follow her, and the foxen delegation moved through the airlock onto the station, Kerrick going with them thankfully.
Captain Nguyen then turned his attention to myself while I lingered next to Bihaar in the airlock foyer “Do you need help with your luggage, Lt. Bookbinder? We can make sure it’s loaded onto the shuttle with everyone else’s.”
“Oh, I’m not going to Geneva,” I informed him. “I’m going to be attending a university in the North American Union, not the European Union. I didn’t think it makes much sense for me to land on one continent just to travel across an ocean to another.” I had come up with my plan during the final tenday of our voyage, after we had dropped out of superluminal and began maneuvering towards Earth orbit.[8] As we able to communicate with the planet, I was able to complete my final preparations for my academic studies, which I hoped to begin as soon as possible when I reached the surface.
The captain frowned at me. “Geneva is where the Mother Country embassy is, lieutenant,” he said. “It’s usual for any foxen arriving on Earth to go there first to become acclimated. There are still less than a hundred and fifty of you in Human Federation space after all.”
“I know, but I’m the first foxen student to attend school on your homeworld,” I told him, as I clutched my valise. “The first of many more, I hope. I would like to proceed as all those who will come after me proceed. I just want to be… ordinary, I suppose.”
“I don’t think you could be anything but extraordinary, or at least a curiosity, as humans are on Motherhome,” the captain replied. “But I do see your point. I urge you to be cautious, however. Where are you heading exactly?”
I pulled out the clever little human manufactured pocket comp I had been gifted with when I came aboard the Columbia two years ago, bringing up the map function and centering it on my destination. “A little place called North Maryland College in a town named Westminster.”
Bihaar craned his neck to look at the map display. “I can take her down, captain,” he said. “We’re transferring a cargo container with foxen biological samples to the Federation Institute of Health in Bethesda. That’s less than eighty kilometers from where she’s going.” Drawing out his own pocket comp, he continued, “I can just drop both the container and Willah off at BWI Aerospace and it’ll be less than a half hour’s ride by monorail to Westminster.”
“Very well,” Captain Nguyen agreed. “Keep an eye on the lieutenant until you’re sure she’ll get where she’s supposed to go.”
“As God wills it, Captain.” Bihaar replied, giving Captain Nguyen a lazy salute. Though all the human and wazagans aboard the Columbia would be classified as Service Caste by foxen standards, they were shockingly casual about discipline. It had been explained to me once that Columbia’s status as a science vessel, not a military one, accounted for that. I confess I still don’t understand how that is possible.
I floated after Bihaar, who had taken responsibility for guiding my trunk through the zero-gravity section of Leonov Station by virtue of hooking the handle with the tip of his long, heavy tail.
Rather than go through the public areas of the station, Bihaar guided me down what looked like a service corridor, to an antechamber where there was a series of six airlock doors set about twenty meters apart, the words SMALL CARGO DOCKING printed in large letters above them, along with safety instructions in four different human languages, and two wazagan. There was a human manning a console at the entrance, who looked up in curiosity as we approached.
“Lt. Bihaar of Clan Seasteader, of the Long White Shore,” Bihaar announced himself, passing an identity card and a data chip to the human. “Just came off the Columbia. Got a cargo pod full of frozen organics from Foxen Prime that’s due to be delivered to BWI-A, along with one supercargo,” he said, gesturing to me.
“Aren’t all of you supposed to go to Geneva?” the human asked of me, while he slotted the chip and Bihaar’s ID into his console. It beeped briefly and he nodded in satisfaction, handing them back to the wazagan pilot.
“Yes, but I’m going the same place as the cargo, or at least nearby, so I decided to save time,” I told him.
The thin strips of fur over the human’s eyes went up. After tapping a few commands into his console, he pointed to the third airlock door. “Okay, lieutenant. You’ve got Shuttle 39. You can hop aboard and start your preflight checks while I have the pod moved to the shuttle’s cargo bay.”
“Thanks,” Bihaar said. “Come on, Willah. Let’s get you down to where the air isn’t canned.” I could only agree with him. I was looking forward to smelling fresh air again, with its myriad of scents, so different from the carefully sanitized atmosphere of Columbia.
We entered the airlock together, into a shuttlecraft superficially similar to the one I had ridden up to the Columbia when I left Motherhome. There were notable differences however, mostly in the size of the passenger compartment, which was much smaller, barely able to fit seat for the pilot and co-pilot, plus a pair of passengers in the rear.
Bihaar helpfully began to secure my luggage in a rack with his own duffle bag. When I grabbed the arm of a passenger seat, intent on strapping myself in, he waved towards the front of the shuttle. “You can sit beside me,” he said. “The view’s a lot better.”
“Are you certain it’s alright?” I asked. I of course would never step into the work area of a fellow Service Caste foxen, especially one with different training and responsibilities. But as I noted earlier, humans and wazagans had a very casual attitude when it came to such protocols.
“You’re fine,” he replied cheerfully. “Just keep your fingers off the buttons and enjoy the scenery.” Bihaar busied himself briefly adjusting his own seat, pushing the bottom closer to the floor, opening a hatch at the back to slip his tail through and expanding the width of the arms to accommodate his large wazagan frame. I tried to follow his lead, raising my own seat so my head was level with the windscreen, and opening the back for my own tail. By the time I was finished Bihaar had already put on a headset and was powering up the shuttle, and I quickly strapped myself in and put on a headset for myself so I could listen to conversation between the shuttle and flight control. Gazing out the window, I searched for the Earth below, but I couldn’t see much out the wide front windows, just the bright white sides of Leonov Station overhead and a large patch of black sky in front of me.
Forgive me, I must laugh at myself. Just that. Just a massive station orbiting another world tens of billions of kilometers from Motherhome, built by an incredibly advanced alien race. Two alien races. By comparison Motherhome is dreadfully primitive. Why my grandparents still speak proudly about when their home had electric lights installed! And here I was, about to start the next leg in a journey that would have been the stuff of a fantasy tale twenty years ago.
There was a muffled thunk towards the rear of the shuttlecraft, and Bihaar called out over the radio, “Leonov Control, this is Shuttle 39. I’m showing four green latches on the cargo pod. Looks secure.”
“We confirm four green, Shuttle 39,” Leonov replied. “Please state your flight plan.”
“Flight plan is to deorbit along Corridor Gamma, standard approach and landing at BWI-A,” Bihaar informed them.
“Shuttle 39, be advised that BWI-A is closed to everything except emergency traffic due to a snowstorm currently dropping three centimeters of snow per hour,” the voice of Cargo Control said. “NorAm ATC is advising all orbit to ground traffic for the upper east coast should divert to either Chicago, Houston, or Kennedy, or delay deorbit until 0300 GMT.”
“Bismallah!” Bihaar exclaimed, muting his mic briefly. He flicked it back on and said, “Revising flight plan. New deorbit point is Corridor Sigma, approach and landing at Houston Aerospaceport. Transmitting details now.”
I asked if there was a problem, but the wazagan just shook his head, purple braids waving back and forth in zero-g.
“Just an annoyance,” he told me. “It means when we land, I’m going to have to arrange long range ground delivery for the cargo pod before I do anything else. There’s a multi-clan homestead near BWI-A. I was hoping to stay there tonight, since I’ll have ninety days of leave before catching a transport back to Wazaga Prime.” [9]
“Shuttle 39, your new flight plan is approved. Undocking and reentry window is open for the next thirty minutes, Weather at Houston is ten Celsius with high cirrus clouds and wind north by northwest at ten kph.”
“Thank you, Leonov,” Bihaar told the controller. He flipped a few more switches and stated. “Cargo hatch sealed and locked. Retracting airlock seal. Releasing docking clamps.” There was a series of loud clacks from the direction of the hatch, and the shuttle began gently moving away from the hull of the station. “Leonov Control, Shuttle 39 is flying free.”
“Confirm you are flying free. Safe travels, Shuttle 39.”
Bihaar pressed the joystick in his hand gently forward, and I heard pair of muffled bangs as the shuttle’s orientation thrusters fired. The I could only gasp as my first view of the Earth came into view.
A vast expanse of brown occupied the right side of the viewports, with large islands off the coast, sitting in a deep blue ocean dotted with patches of clouds. It took me several moments to recognize the geographical features that I had studied so hard during the voyage, as I realized I was looking at them upside down compared to the maps I’d seen, with the lines demarking national borders. The islands were Japan, sitting off the coasts of Russia and Korea, all members of the Pacific Union, and I was flying hundreds of kilometers above them. Flying above another world. I thanked the Mother Goddess aloud for this marvelous gift, which prompted a response from Bihaar.
“That is a view that never gets old,” he agreed. “Especially all that water compared to my own home.” He touched the joystick again, and the view disappeared, replaced by black space and the massive dwindling bulk of Leonov Station, with Columbia snugged in close to it. Bihaar then confirmed his permission to begin our deorbit burn, and I felt my body soon pushed back into the cushions of my seat, the pressure lasting for almost a minute.
“Shouldn’t we be doing this over North America?” I asked Bihaar, as the burn continued.
“If I deorbited over NorAm we’d end up in Moscow,” Bihaar informed me. “Trust me, we’re going need all the room we can get to slow down.” The main engine shut down and Bihaar reoriented the shuttle once again, until the curvature of the Earth was just visible over the shuttle’s nose. About ten minutes later I felt the invisible hand start to press me back into my seat again, as a high-pitched whistling sound filled the cabin.
The hand pressed down harder, and the whistling turned into a roar as the black darkness was replaced by a bright orange glow. I gasped, trying desperately to gain a breath. I had felt such gravity during the launch from Motherhome to Columbia two years ago, but that had only been for about three minutes. The pressure this time was unrelenting, and I hyperventilated as I fought the urge not to panic.
Bihaar glanced from his controls, inquiring about my distress, the concern obvious in his voice. I wanted to turn my head to look at him, but my skull was being pressed back into the headrest, and I feared if I tried to turn it my neck would snap.
“Can’t… breathe…” I gasped. My vision was narrowing, tunneling into a black void as my blood pounded in my ears.
“Eh? Oh, bismallah! I forgot you were a lightworlder like humans,” he exclaimed. He reached across the cockpit, and placed his hand over mine, grasping it tightly. “I programmed the descent for too steep an angle for you. Just hang on, it’ll be over soon.”
I tried to remember the instructions I had been given before the launch to the Columbia so long ago. It was important to take deep breaths, pushing downward with one’s abdomen, like attempting to pass something in the Necessary. A disgusting simile, but I confess it worked. The pressure eased in a few more moments and I was able to breathe normally.
“You alright?” Bihaar asked, as I released my grip on his palm, my fingers aching. I assured him I was all right, though I felt bruised all over.
“I am so sorry!” he told me, still deeply distressed. “My planet’s gravity is twice as high as Earth’s and Motherhome. I should have remembered you can’t take gravities as high as I can.”
I rubbed my aching breastbone briefly and assured him I would recover. Looking out though I could see nothing but clouds, so I inquired about our location.
“Just crossing the west coast of NorAm,” Bihaar told me. He flipped a toggle on his control board, speaking briefly to the ground controllers to set up our landing.
Still recovering from the rough reentry, I was content to keep quiet as Bihaar continued his steady conversation with the control tower. I watched out the side window as we descended through the clouds, revealing a vast expanse of yellow and green fields, and then the tall glass buildings I had come to associate with modern human architecture. Then sooner than I believed possible I heard the whine of the shuttle’s landing gear dropping in place, followed by a brief jolt as we touched down on the runway, the shuttle rapidly slowing.
As soon as we came to a stop, the ground controllers ordered us to turn off the runway towards our designated parking area. As he guided us onto the taxiway, Bihaar turned briefly towards me to smile and say, “Welcome to Earth.”
[1] Correction: There is, of course, an electronic application to do the calculations. Nevertheless, I will stick to the human dating system, if only for my own sanity. -BB
[2] Here we see a hint of why Bookbinder became such an extraordinary diplomat, and one of the driving forces in the creation of Galactic Basic. As her Mandarin teacher Pin Quinya noted during Bookbinder’s education, “She has a ferocious intellect when it comes to learning languages, even ones utterly lacking in cultural context to her own.” -Ed.
[3] To the Home of the Humans, by Alorain Greenfields is perhaps the most accessible primary source available in Galactic Basic. -Ed.
[4] 2.5 meters. -Ed
[5] “Dragons” are a race of beasts from human mythology. Though they seem to vary wildly in human culture, they are generally very large and very greedy. Which I fear is a pernicious insult to wazagans in general, as all the ones I met aboard the Columbia were of a generous nature, as you will soon discover in my narrative. -BB
[6] Captain, later Commodore Huy Nguyen (Birth-Death), was an experienced starship captain, and commanded the Columbia when it delivered the first Terran Confederation diplomatic team to Foxen Prime two years after Endeavour returned to Earth. -Ed.
[7] Viscount Shanang Blackfang (Birth-Death) eldest son of Countess Tanara Blackfang. He served as an assistant diplomatic attaché at the Motherhome Embassy in Geneva for next twenty years, eventually rising to the rank of Senior Ambassador the final two years of his Terran career. -Ed
[8] This was of course prior to the discovery of the Shinzen-Mohammad Principle, allowing the creation hyperspace beacons that permitted vastly improved superluminal navigation and dropout transitions much closer to planetary bodies. -Ed
[9] As was common in days before advanced superluminal drives and improved stellar navigation, Humanity Prime had several wazagan enclaves, small homesteads or neighborhoods where the accommodations were built sized to be comfortable for the larger aliens. Similar enclaves for humans near Wazaga Prime were confined to orbital space stations, as most humans avoided living on the surface due to Wazaga Prime’s high gravity. -Ed
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Date: 2024-05-20 01:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-05-23 08:13 pm (UTC)I'm mostly on Mastodon these days but I'm also here regularly too! Even if I use Wordpress as a posting front-end at this point, I am still actually here. As this reply probably implies. xD
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Date: 2024-05-25 01:01 pm (UTC)