Betty Adams's Blog, page 124

The Hero

"So why don't more aliens come to Earth now that the space port is open?" Mack asked idly of his companion. 
The four foot long lizard blinked lazily at him with one eye and gave a snort of amusement. "Well one might speculate that all that propaganda you sent out actually worked." The lizard rasped dryly. 
"Propaganda?" Mack asked arching an eyebrow. "What propaganda?" 
The lizard kicked him reproachfully and stretched out in the warm sand. "Do not try to be obtuse friend Mack. I have seen the entire set you keep in your files."
Mack gave an interrogative flick of his foot and the lizard snorted. 
"I have watched the tales of the "Hale Hero on the Abominable World" many times. If only a fraction of the horrors he revealed were true no sane being would willing come here."
"You are here," Mack pointed out idly, meanwhile wracking his mind for which of his shows his friend was referring to. 
"Well I have never laid claim to much sanity." The lizard confessed. "And I figured as long as I stick close to you I will be safe from the horrors the Hale One faced."
Mack squinted over at him as his mind finished his mental tally. "Hey, the only files of mine that you've accessed are the David Attenborough documentaries...."
The lizard made the great effort to nod. "A Hale Hero indeed," he said seriously. "The man must be quite mad of course to face such horrors so easily but his sacrifices are appreciated by all who have been warned away."
"....Uh-huh..." Mack eyed his friend and then decided that a nap was preferable to pursuing the odd conversation any longer.

Books for Breakfast

What is the defining difference between a mere reader and a true book lover? Could it be those precious few moments at breakfast when (those who can do something more than eat and wake up) the hands reach for a book and the meal is merely dressing on those blessed quiet moments.

Humans are Weird - Nike

Nike

"Nike." 
The word was spoken in such a dull, lifeless tone that it shook the rather rotund officer out of his stupor that was half bureaucracy induced and half the result of the storm that was cracking dangerously over his talons. Commander Three'clicks's wing hook paused over the report he was writing out and he twisted his head to look at the young officer huddled on the floor. He had known that the field team had returned. He was not so {deaf} as that, despite a long ago battle having shorn two of his rebounders off the top of his head. It had left him horribly scarred and flightless but the remaining eight worked just fine thank you very much, and he could get a nice feel for the safehold from where he hung in his office.
"Is that how an officer greets his superiors nowadays?" Three'clicks demanded sharply. "Lieutenant?"  He had to squint a bit as the younger officer's fur was mussed far beyond regulation...come to think of it he might not be able to fly safely -if at all- and Three'clicks felt a stirring of unease even before the lieutenant reacted.
The dark red wings rose in a shrug releasing a waft of strange and slightly unpleasant smell. Human. Three'clicks realized belatedly. 
"Maybe. I don't know. It's important I think."
Commander Three'clicks felt his fur bristle and he raised his wings in irritation but something stopped him. It was partly the dull look of resignation in the lieutenant's black eyes, partly the complete lack of reaction, and partly the result of the commander's torpor fuzzy mind finally catching up with the clues that were filtering into him. He had not heard the troop carrier that had taken the flight out return and yet they were back. The storm was breaking both over the valley their safehold was in and the mountain slopes that the flight had been sent out to explore. They had been warned that they might encounter humans there. 
"Lieutenant Five'trill," Three'clicks began, dropping down to the floor and coming close to drop a wing over him.  "Is your flight safely returned?"
The young officer looked up at him dully and flicked his ears uncertainty. "Every Winged that left with me has returned alive." He said carefully. "Injuries are non-fatal and healing well."
"That is a very specific report." Three'clicks observed even as relief flooded through him and he guided the younger officer over to where a small bottle of leaf water from the home world sat beneath his perch. He poured out a glass of the drink for Five'trills and watched as the officer drank it with almost frantic eagerness. "What happened?" Three'clicks asked gently. 
"We lost the transport about five-thousand glides from the safehold," Five'trills replied, accepting another serving of water. "We had landed it at the base of a cliff to examine the surface for possible temporary holds. Private Ten'clicks stayed with the transport."
Three'clicks flicked his ears forward in acknowledgment.  That had been their mission. 
"We had take observation on about half the face when a rock was dislodge above us," the younger officer went on. "I ordered the flight to retreat from the cliff face and...and..." Five'trills shivered and wrapped his wings around himself. "It was a cascade failure."
"Like in a computer system?" Three'clicks asked laying his ears back in confusion. 
Five'trills flicked his ears in confirmation. "Each rock hit another and dislodged it and before we knew what was happening the rockslide had engulfed the transport. It was buried under a mass of rock and detritus with Ten'clicks inside." 
Three'clicks rocked back on his talons and stared at the younger officer in horror.
"We landed over where we thought the transport was and tried to move some of the rocks but -" Five'trills held out his wings and Three'clicks could see that the manipulating ends were torn and scabbed with the attempt at the impossible task. "Private Twenty-seven'trills suggested that as we couldn't contact the safehold we try to make contact with the human camp that was supposed to be in the next valley over."
Three'clicks flicked his ears at that. Spying on their new neighbors had been one of the secondary missions of that flight. 
"We made contact and the human technician there was eager to aid us. He was able to dig out what was left of the transport by the time the sun set. It was badly compressed but we could hear that Ten'clicks was somehow still alive in the cockpit. Then the human he pulled out one of those tools they always carry and he just, tore the transport apart." Five'trills explained with a few demonstrative twisting movements of his manipulators. "Ten'clicks was injured, not fatally, but he wasn't flying anywhere. That was when we remembered that the storm was coming. The human saw our distress and said that he could take up back to his base camp. All he had to do was summon his transport early."
"One of those whirlwind blades?" Three'clicks asked eagerly. 
Five'trills shrugged his wings absently. "I do not know. That was when we discovered that some native fauna had taken out the communications array at his camp. We knew that we would not be able to survive the storm without a hold and the human had a hard copy visual representation map so he decided to take us back here to the safehold."
"But you said he had no transport..." the commander interjected.
"He had a harness," Five'trills explained. "We held onto it and he did that human movement. The one they call running."
Three'clicks stared blankly at the younger officer for several heartbeats. "You are saying," he said slowly. "That this human carried you and your entire flight-"
"He carried Ten'clicks in a sling around his neck," Five'trills interjected absently. "Ten'clicks couldn't hold onto the harness on his own." 
"Five-thousand glides in the past day?" Three'clicks pressed on.
"Actually it was just over five {hours}," Five'trills replied. 
Three'clicks rocked back again and cast his mind about. "Thank you for the report soldier but you should be in the medical bay." He said firmly. Just holding onto a harness moving at those speeds for that long must have been exhausting. "I will need to speak to this human-"
"That might be difficult," Five'trills interjected again as he let himself be led out of the room.
"Has he left in the middle of a storm?" Three'clicks demanded.
"No..." Five'trills clarified. "When we arrived in the safehold he was leaking blood out of his mouth and nose. He asked us was everyone alive and when I confirmed it he did that things humans do where they show all of their teeth. Then he said 'nike' and collapsed on the ground. The medics are trying to figure out if he is still alive..." Five'trills looked dully up at Three'clicks. "I said I thought it was  important." 

How Does a Character React to the Sunrise

A good way to build up a well rounded character is to show them reacting to something mundane like a sunset or a sunrise. Are they completely unmoved? Are they uplifted? Do they seek interactions with others as a result or enter into introspection? Something as simple as the light off of the clouds can reveal quite a bit about a character without being overbearing or over wordy.. 

Humans are Weird - Smell

The Scent

"They can smell dangerous heat."
The simple statement carried no context and Ch'rill curled his secondary legs up underneath him in frustration. Not because he didn't understand Quilx'tch. Far from it. The bizarre situation their expedition had found them selves in provided constant context. 'They' meant the strange biped giants and no amount of utter grammatical absurdity was cause enough to say that such an utterly ridiculous  statement was false.
"I think  that you should give me more details nutritionist," Ch'rill stated calmly.
After the incident with the 'snow' and the nearly miraculous preservation of the exploration team due to the 'warm blooded' nature of the bipeds Ch'rill wouldn't directly question Quilx'tch's sanity if he said that a paron beast of legend was politely asking to borrow a cup of nin juice. 
"Yes," Quilx'tch visibly shook out his feet as if he was clearing his mind and stiffened to a more rigid posture of attention. "One of the bipeds, the one called Tom, discovered that the third coil on the dorsal ridge of Twitch team's hovercraft was overheating and warned us of the danger."
Ch'rill had never before this expedition wished he was less educated. If he were a happily ignorant brat of some royal family, given his position based on his parents' wealth rather than the years of effort he had put in, he might not know how utterly impossible that statement was. He curled his legs again and forced himself to relax and focus on the obvious problem.
"Has the coil been repaired?" Ch'rill asked evenly. 
Quilx'tch raised one leg in confirmation. "The technicians saw to that. The biped helped."
"Now," Ch'rill asked patiently. "You day the biped 'smelled dangerous heat'?"
"I don't know how they separated the heat differential from the other temperature differences in the open air!" Quilx'tch said excitedly, scurrying across the room to stand beside the team leader. "But they...he... did! He was just walking past. His eyes weren't even pointed at the craft and you know how important that is for binocular vision species! He just stopped and his head came up - it is so peculiar when they do that and I think it has significance - and he contorted his face and then scouted around until he came to the coils and he hovered his face over it and asked if it was supposed to be that hot!"
"But how did he know that what he sensed was dangerous?" Ch'rill asked sorting through the files on his desk. "Tom is listed as a biologist. He is not supposed to have any specialized mechanical knowledge." 
"I know!" Quilx'tch said happily. "I can't wait to learn more about them. Isn't it fascinating?" 
Ch'rill let his abdomen sink to the floor with a tiny sound of distress. It was something .... something he was not looking forward to reporting to his superiors. 

Things of Which We Do Not Speak

I do not think that I had quite realized, until I read this post (warning for profanity), how much of the inspiration for the world my book is set in came from my Irish  heritage.
A world where things are known but never spoken. A world where we tell our alien friends everything...except the things we don’t tell ourselves. A world where those who know do not release information about the aliens, not because of how the humans might react, but because things other than human might not like it, and you  DO NOT offend the fey. It is really two worlds. The one we talk about. Data streams, faster than light travel, understood biological reactions, aliens, and stars. The one we do not speak of. Trees that must never be cut, rocks that must never be moved, that place we don’t go, the times we must be snug in our beds. Things we must say, and not say, when alone in the forest..
And there in the middle of it all, humans.
We smile at the new friends we have made. “Oh, it is nothing, Just a local superstition. What is a superstition? Ah, it is a ... law that has yet to be codified. Yes. That is it. Now I know you wanted to go to that location. It is a *lovely* island, but so very boring. Let's go visit this other place instead.”
Sometimes the aliens wonder about the odd behavior but they have come to accept that humans are just odd in very many ways. And if humans want to  keep off-worlders away from a tiny green island in the North. or the wide stretches of tundra in Alaska, or the canyons in the middle of North America...well humans are just like that and why not go someplace more hospitable after all?
​

Humans Are Weird

Imagine if you will, a species that has no eyes, no face, no ears. They amble along the beds of the shallow oceans of a world with slightly higher gravity than Earth. Color means little to them though they can sort of perceive differences in shade, though no one knows quite how. They are about the size of breadbox when fully grown and tend brown to black. They slightly resemble caterpillars but where a caterpillar has a long body with stubby little legs these aliens are all long undulating legs that drape down to the ground and surround and support the central core body. They feast on the algae that flourishes in their endless tide pools. They grew their spaceships out of sand and reached for the stars that they could hear singing to them in the night. And in that vast reaches they find other species,  including a strange species of biped giants.
They are delighted to finally find kindred spirits who enjoy slipping through shallow waters, a species that loves their oceans just as much as they do. But what horror they experience at the thought of oceans miles deep and leagues wide. What amazement they experience to find that these strange biped giants regularly go down into the unfathomable depths just to explore. It is a little frightening. But then again the giants have the perfect sized hands to pet them so who really cares how crazy they are?  

NaNoWriMo Looms

As NaNoWriMo looms authors everywhere are lining up their files and preparing to get that fifty-thousand words out. This particular author is gearing up to write words one-hundred-thousand to one-hundred-fifty-thousand of an eighty-thousand word novel. Here hoping to finishing up that story and getting it edited. 
​

Omnivorous - A Story

Omnivorous

By Betty Adams

​"So you just eat...anything?" The breadbox sized alien's vocal chords were perhaps the closest to a human's as any of the speaking species they had encountered. They tended to be quieter and pitched lower but the one that Mack had dubbed Threes had learned to "shout" early on and knew  how to aim his words in the thin air. 
"Well not anything," Mack corrected as he tightened the bolts on the underside of the hover bike he was working on. "There are a lot of chemical compounds that are toxic in plants-"
"Of course there are," Threes said, exasperation tinting his voice. "It does not serve the plants ends for you to devour their photosynthesis surfaces. They pump all sorts of anti-predation compounds into their energy rich biomass!" 
Mack heard the rustling that was the Undulates version of footsteps and the human couldn't resist a smile at the image of the giant caterpillar like creature moving across the ground. Fortunately a species that expressed its chosen collective name as a rippling motion along the dreadlock like appendages the seemed to compose the entirety of their bodies that varied from individual to individual as well as from sub-culture to sub-culture didn't mind getting 'named' by the other cultures they met. 
"It is far safer to feed on the simpler creatures that the water is practically teaming with!" Threes made his way up onto Mack's chest and Mack absently pushed him to a more comfortable position. 
"Maybe safer," Mack agreed as he reached his hand deep into the guts of the machine. "But not as convenient. Not much of the human population lives with enough water to make that a viable option."
Threes clicked in distress and moved up Macks chest to prod gently at his chin with - Mack assumed and hoped - his frontal appendages. 
"But how?" Threes demanded.
Mack grunted and gave the hand signal for needing more information. Apparently human fingers were one of the best cross species communication aids that the Undulates had ever discovered. 
"Humans like water." Threes explained his query. "I know you don't live in in like we do but you..." Mack assumed Threes was struggling with trying to communicate a complex Undulate word/position to someone who wasn't looking at him. "...you swim and, and I think the closest word is wade, just like we do and it is a valued excersize."
"Yup, We do love our bodies of water," Mack agreed as his hands finally found the loose nut he had been feeling around for. "Personally I grew up near Gitche Gumee. Went swimming a lot as a kid."
"But not everyone is so fortunate?" Threes pressed forward again and Mack shoved him down again.
"Keep down for a while Threes, I gotta get this loose. But yeah, some humans can go their entire life without ever seeing enough standing water to wade in, let along grow enough biomass to feed the population."
"Perhaps it has something to do with your fantastic biomass and nutrient needs," Threes suggested, trying to keep his voice level, but Mack could feel the Undulate shivering at the clearly horrible thought of desert living.
"Well lots of folks even prefer it," Mack said with a grin. 
"It certainly explains your dependence on omnivorous," Threes speculated. 
"Omnivory," Mack corrected absently. Threes was particular about his languages and like to get it right. 

Life Experiences

Lens flares can add dramatic effect or specific emotions to visual art.
What written trope/method/technique would be analogous to lens flares? Altering the feel without changing the content?