Cary Neeper--Writings
© 2002 Carolyn A. Neeper

Chapter 1. Shawne

"Conn, for Harrahn's sake! I'm nearly twenty-one years old." Shawne, our human daughter, sat on the edge of the algae pond in our family home on Varok, kicking water in the air and watching her elllonian father, Conn, snatch drops out of the air with the end of his long tongue.

"Earth years." Conn’s clicked response echoed softly in the rocky chamber enclosing the pond.

"Right. That means I'm ready to go back to Earth. I know what to do." Ignoring Conn’s use of Sonics, Shawne spoke in English to emphasize her point. Drops of water flew off her foot, and Conn lurched past a white pond rose to catch them.
"Off sides! Penalty!. You used your hand fins to get those drops." Her voice sang with excitement, and from my office below I could hear her laughter cascade down the hearth stairs.
Shawne strictly enforced the rules of their game. The elll could use only his back fin to maneuver in the deep water. No webbed extremities allowed. (We varoks prefer not to play with water. Contact sports are too rough on our superficial nerves.)

"You think you've got all the answers, do you, Shawnoon?" Conn asked. "You think you can fix Earth's problems—when Elll-Varok Science gave up?" Conn surfaced and gulped air to talk, using his lungs to speak Varokian, but the words came in short bursts. He was tired.

Too engrossed in her argument, Shawne didn’t notice the slight narrowing and graying of the elll’s huge eyes peering at her steadily from behind the colorful overhanging branches of his unruly head plumes. "EV Science quit the moon eighteen years ago. The plagues and famines have run their course. Humans are ready to listen."

"Sure they are. Humans will listen to anything that turns a big profit in the name of recovery."

"I hate to see you so cynical, Conn."

"I’m not trying to be funny. It’s a fact. Economics drives everything in human society." The elll boosted himself onto the deck and pulled a moss wet-sweater over his head, not wanting to dry out and interrupt this talk with Shawne.

Their time together had shrunk from constant to frequent to rare, since Shawne played a popular role as the only human at the Concentrate, Varok’s institution of higher learning. Now, in her still fresh maturity, she was not one to sit still for long, and ellls rarely felt in the mood for long conversations. Always the dedicated parent, Conn responded to the urgency in the moment.

"Conn, the timing is good. Orram agrees with me. So many people have died in the last two decades, it’s got the attention of North America. People there really tried to help with the African famines, until water in the southwest dried up and southern grazing lands could no longer support protein stock." When Shawne’s mind focused so sharply in tune with her emotions, her brows rose just a little beneath the soft blond curls framing her delicate human face. No angular varokian-like planes hardened her visage. She was like the rounded marble angels of Earth lore, gentle of mind even in her intense concern for Earth.

"So what do you propose to do, Shawnoon?" Conn asked. "The deserts keep expanding to the north. Do you have a quick fix for sweeping changes in climate? The water wars were not fun, you know."

"But the wars are over. That’s why our timing is good. No one is fighting now. People are looking for ways to rebuild. Political divisions that had no ecological meaning are no longer operative. We can help rebuild communities based on rational premises. If it’s not sustainable, people won’t do it. The oil wars made people realize they can change their way of life."

"You’re kidding."

"Conn, stop it! I’m serious. We can do it. We can help show humans how to make a steady state work. Ellason and Varok have maintained resource and population levels for thousands of years. Surely Earth will listen to us now. They’ve lost so much, Conn. Too many species have gone extinct. The forests are gone. In the 2060’s, after the battles over oil and water, North Americans lost so many people to the epidemics, they now realize what the numbers of deaths meant in the rest of the world."

"That’s only part of the story, Shawne-Baby. You forget the basic reason behind all the suffering—there were too many people. Now that the die-offs have peaked, how are you going to convince humans to limit their reproduction? They think they, too, are going extinct!"

"They know better than that."

"It’s been very scary, Shawne. The germs of Earth have had a field day, evolving so fast. They killed off their victims and still had plenty of victims to feed on. They didn’t need to bother with clever biological strategies for keeping their human victims alive, with humans crowding into huge cities, traveling all over the world, exchanging sneezes. Medical prevention and treatment couldn’t keep up."

"But that’s over now, Conn. That’s another reason why the timing is so good right now. At less than two billion, Earth’s population is now at a sustainable level. If humans are careful, they can rebuild a steady-state at a reasonable standard of living for everyone, before it all grows out of control again."

Taking a long curling strand of Shawne’s golden hair between his webbed fingers, Conn twisted it with the dry tip of his narrow tongue. "I would hate to be responsible for a self-fulfilling pessimism, Love. Though I like your enthusiasm—"

"Then we’ll go."

"Not yet. No. Not yet." He stood up and stepped into the deep pool, disappearing beneath the pond grass. When the sonic melons atop his head broke the surface, Shawne jumped over his head into the water, grabbed him from behind, and threw her arms around his brawny neck.

"’No’ is not acceptable, Green Daddy-O," she said. "I am going to Earth and fix it for all time. Respect my good intentions and help me make the arrangements, then go with me."


(Excerpt from Chapter 14. Trouble)
As soon as he was under water, Conn sent an ultrasonic ID to the gray whales, and he introduced his calf, Shawne. Three messages told him all was well. The whales’ pressure pattern was calm, their whistling was communicative, not threatening, and they responded immediately to his call.

Shawne was keeping them busy considering ideas for a farming venture. Conn made his way out to where they circled and joined the conversation. "The humans can help you farm the tuna in exchange for a share of the harvest." The concept of farming tuna took a lot more convoluted signaling and translation with what Conn knew of whale talk, but, when they grasped the idea, they were enthusiastic.

Conn and Shawne headed for shore. They had gone less than a hundred meters when the elll fell behind.

"I hate to be a party pooper," he called, "but I'm in trouble. Not sure what's wrong. Losing pressure sense."

Shawne swam to him and echoed the alarm in cetacean Sonics. As she surfaced for a breath, the older female appeared and offered her dorsal fin.

"Take us in as far as you can, please," she said to the whale, who understood the situation well enough.

Conn's attitude was alarming. Shawne had never seen him so obtuse and depressed. Anger was his usual antidote to trouble. His temper might explode, but it rarely fizzled. Never this. Never defeat.

The whale took them both, one on each side, but she refused to tow them closer than one hundred meters. "Too much smelly stuff in close," she clicked.

Conn agreed and waved her off. Shawne headed toward shore, expecting the elll to pass her, but she soon missed him, and turned back—too late. A strong current had pulled her to the north, away from Conn. The whales and their babies were gone.

#

September 12, 2068: The first wave of nausea came without warning, and Conn lost everything in his stomach. He swam hard, trying to escape the gnawing in his gut, then he could no longer swim. He drifted in a curled position, as if he were back in the egg. No pain he had ever experienced came close to this awful feeling. The ache surged, and surged again, and he wanted to die, to stop the pain. With explosive force, his waste voided and a sharp pain seared his cloaca. He saw the yellowish tinge of blood in the white excreta, then it was over—for him—but Conn's Alien Effect had just begun on planet Earth.

Feebly the elll worked his fins, trying to get to shore, then he lost consciousness.


(Excerpt from Chapter 22. Letting Go)
I summarized for him the thoughts running through his head. "Dawson's ship is heading south southwest toward Australia at full speed. You think he has captured Nidok and intends to hold him for profit."

Passage tried to suppress his reaction, but he was terrified. Varoks could actually read minds! He felt naked, dangerously exposed. I regretted saying anything, and I tried to back peddle the reading as a good guess, but it was too late. He didn’t understand how limited our patch sense was, how it depended on the voltages generated by the flow of thoughts. We varoks can’t pry old thoughts and memories out of the neuronal net, it’s far too complex. I had lost a valuable advantage, by reading him without his knowing. It was a chance lost. I wanted to trust this person Shawne so obviously admired.

"Raeral wanted you to see the Great Barrier Reef, Conn," Shawne said. "Maybe this is your chance."

"I'll take you down there, whether or not we catch Dawson," Passage said. "I don't know what kind of trouble he'll make for us, but I think it's the best hope for...your ahlork."

"The offer is accepted, with our deepest gratitude," I said, looking to Tandra and Conn for confirmation. "We have no other choice."

"Then we'll start as soon as you can get ready. We’ll take two boats. Charley will want to come. It never hurts to have back up."

"We're ready," Conn said. Of course he had no changes of clothes to worry him. For an elll, food could always be found where there was water. Without money or passports, we would be dependent on Passage, but Raeral, Jesse and Junah were within a few hours' call. Our interplanetary bus, the Lurlial was always ready for emergency evacuation.

"The Sea Wind is kept ready to support a crew of ten for two months." Passage had recovered and was eager to begin the trip. "If you don't mind using borrowed clothes, we can leave now."

"I didn't want to get you into this, Mother." Shawne looked relieved that we were along for the ride, and she smiled at me, inviting me to know it directly from her mind. "Thanks, Dad Orram."

I gave her the hug she needed, and Tandra gave her the real story. "You didn't get us into this, Shawnoon. Conn did."

He pretended to ignore the conversation, but after we boarded the Sea Wind, when Passage was preoccupied with setting a course for Australia, Shawne confronted Conn in her usual direct way.

"I'll mate when I want, with whomever I choose, Elll-daddy, and you had better not follow me again." I could hear her as a six-year-old, scolding him for following her to the Vahinorral when she took off alone, riding her favorite daramont. "You're being overprotective."

"So what else is new, Lover Girl?"

"If you hover, you'll ruin my chances to be happy."

"You really think so?"

"I know so."

"Then I won't—but I won't keep my opinions to myself. Don't sell yourself cheap, Shawnoon. You deserve full measure. Don't settle for less than Tandra and I have—"

"And you and Lanoll. And Orram and Mom. I've heard the story a hundred times. I can't measure up to all that. You've solved the impossible four-body problem."

"Yeah." He wrapped a long green arm around her and laughed. "Just promise me this. Answer two questions before you choose a mate, Shawnoon: Do we two share identities? Do I see a lifetime of growth with this person? You're too precious to waste in brain-dead struggles and untried potential."

"I've got to try it out for myself, Conn. I don't know anything about human mating."

"All right. I'll be good. I know you humans have to play all kinds of psycho-babble mating games before you get to it."

"Get to what?" Jeff Passage had returned from the wheel to find Shawne.

"Nothing important," she smiled. "Give me a tour of the ship, Jeff."

"See what I mean?" Conn called after her. "'Nothing important!' Good grief, Shawnoon. I thought we'd raised you free and honest."

"See you later, Papa Conn." She went up on deck with Passage as he maneuvered the Sea wind past the concrete reefs of San Diego Bay. From then on she rarely left his side. . . .


(Excerpt from Chapter 24. Worst Fears)
"Where's Nidok, Dawson?" Conn picked up the xenophobe by one arm and stood him on his feet, pulling his arm hard against his back.

"Your friend from Varok? The halork, I believe."

"Ahlork. He's more than a friend. He's family. Does that tell you anything, Broom Face?"

"No problem. No problem. We'll take you right to him, won't we, Cisco?"

Conn looked up into the barrel of a large handgun.

"We wondered when you would come up for air, alien. You stink of dead fish. The hold of a fisher must be just like home. Couldn't resist it, eh?"

"Actually, I rather preferred your dark lager and fresh chips," Conn said, releasing Dawson and brushing himself off. "Blueberry muffins and halibut for breakfast weren't too bad, either. I'll tell Passage to hire on your cook."

"Passage ran like the headless chicken he is," Dawson said. "Take him alive, Jake. Cisco, watch it."

Conn whirled, caught one man with the flat of his broad hand, then ducked, ramming the other man with his head. The gun went flying, and Conn made it to the deck, where four more men from Dawson's crew caught hold of each limb, hoisted him off the boat, carried him across the white sand of Michaelmas Cay, and threw him into an underground storage pit.

He landed hard but unhurt on damp sand. A wooden hatch slammed shut, and a lock snapped in place. His vision picked up something moving, then his eyes quickly adjusted to the dark. The dank place was empty, except for a heap of crumpled beer cans. On top of the heap sat Nidok.

"Welcome to Michael's Messy Cay, Brother Elll," he croaked. "Have a beer."


(Excerpt from Chapter 25. Michaelmas Cay)

"Still alive, are you, Clacker? How come?"

"Ahlork eat brass bullets for lunch. Spit them back in human faces. But first we drink all their beer, celebrate your capture. Now they can start their alien sideshow."

"You're drunk, you nincompoop. Why haven't you dug your way out of here?"

"I was waiting for you. Why else?"

"I know why else. Free beer, that's why."

"Of course. Of course. It's good for ahlork. Builds sharp chitin."

Conn had to laugh. Nidok always had his world by the tail. Conn looked around, but he couldn’t see where all the beer had come from. "What's in here?" He crawled through a small door leading to a smaller chamber filled with cases of beer. "Good grief, Ahlork Dear, there are no potato chips in here. What are you drinking? Lager or watered-down horse piss?"

"Get me a lager. I give you a bath in the horse piss." The ahlork scooped out a deep hole in the sand, and, while Conn downed a dark brew, he ceremoniously emptied two cases of light beer into the hole.

Conn sat down in the puddle of beer, and Nidok sloshed the golden liquid over the elll until all his tiles were thoroughly soaked.

"That should improve your odeur," Nidok snorted. "You stink like hell gone fishing."

Within minutes, Conn's tiles had soaked up enough alcohol to make him as drunk as Nidok. Before nightfall they had emptied twenty cases of light beer into the hole and jammed the entrance with crushed aluminum.

"Once again, my dear Nidok, ugliest alien on Earth, you have saved me from a drought worse than death." Conn rolled out of the beer. "But the time has come for you to save me again. No seaweed ropes this time. No sharp plates to cut beer cans. I enlist your kind assistance in digging a tunnel out the back, while I stack the lager cases against our aluminum sculpture."

They tried to work at their tasks, but the effort was more than either could sustain. Conn fell asleep draped over a case of lager, and Nidok fell asleep in the tunnel he had started. Hours passed before they woke, found themselves reasonably sober, and continued the project. It didn't take Conn long to move all the lager cases. He tucked two cans in his waist belt, then tried to help Nidok move wet sand.

"Hey, watch that right wing, Nidok my love. You nearly sliced off my head," Conn hollered.

"Out of my way then, Green Bones. You're no help. Let me do my beetle act, and we'll be out of here much sooner."

"Go for it, Sand Flea. I bow to your ancient genes."

Nidok disappeared in a flurry of sand, and soon reappeared, pushing the last of the loose sand into the lager cases stacked against the aluminized entrance. "After you, Elll of All Ellls. You stick your head into the open first and get it blown off. I'll escape later."