HERE IS AN EXCERPT FROM ANCIENT WHISPERS FROM TOMORROW

          At the time the thing at North Head City showed up, the Clan Tamran held first and second chairs in Colony Council. As Science Director and Chief Areologist at Ascreus Station, the Council handed over the responsibility of the on-planet investigation of the thing at North Head City to Tina Tamran, and that meant she knew much more about what was happening out there in the eastern hinterlands than most. A couple of periods later, the World Astronomical League of the Earth Allied Council, the somewhat retarded offspring of the old International Astronomical Union, jammed its prying nose into her affairs.

          Her duties changed overnight from actively studying the thing to maintaining as much control over a complicated situation as possible, while keeping the recently arrived EAC representative out of the loop to ensure the Council continued to have the edge in the investigation. To do that she was to feed the EAC man only the obvious—nothing more. Edited to suit the purpose; meager information only was to pass to the rep. Nothing more than a starvation diet of raw data feeds and fractured records were to find their way into his hands. He was going crazy, Tina Tamran could see that. She didn’t care. To say that she felt uncomfortable with his tagging along wherever she went would be a huge, blatant understatement of what she really felt. She was, well—ticked purple and babysitting a fresh squash was not in her job description.

          Tall, thin and pale, as third generation and beyond Mars-born people tend to be, Tamran moved with feline grace to the inner door of Ascreus Station’s Number Five outlock. In her wake a wider-than-usual squash-body, whose darkened skin declared he had been wandering around in the full glare of a too close sun not very long ago, struggled to keep pace with her long, fluid stride. The squash checked his waggling gate too late and bounced off the unyielding metal door. Tamran expertly quashed a laugh that was racing to the surface.

          “Dr. Tamran, I—”

          “Please, Baird, how many times must I tell you? We don’t use titles here. Well, except for the Guard forces, anyway. It’s...um...socially unacceptable, and rude. If you mean to be polite, call me Tamran. If you want to be friendly, I’m just Tina, but I would prefer you use Tamran. Friends we are not.”

          Her interruption represented a slap in the face to any planet-born Martian. Martians did not interrupt anyone except in rebuke or anger, a nuance she knew went unnoticed by Baird. Squashes commonly interfered in the comments of others—a most upsetting bad habit of which she would break him before he did real damage elsewhere.

          They loaded me down with an unwashed, ignorant heathen, she thought. Why couldn’t they have figured out some way to keep him at Olympia Station for a few periods while I came up with a reasonable plan to handle this runt?

          Michael Baird, emissary from the Earth Allied Council and the World Astronomical League, took a deep, cerebral breath. She recognized it by the way his face screwed up tight and changed color. All newly arrived squash-bodies did that until they grew accustomed to Martian ways. In Baird’s case, Martian manners needed force-feeding. Tamran didn’t have the luxury of time to deal with his education. He appeared a bit recalcitrant, as if he didn’t relish the idea of having his body being transported to Mars in the first place, but time was short and it wouldn’t be long before he would be interacting with others much less tolerant than she.

          Tina Tamran felt the heat creep up her face. She was burning about the whole business and he stood there as the only available target. Baird, she believed, was there to usurp her authority in the investigation of the thing near the far eastern town of North Head City, and, as any real Martian would, she resented the EAC’s meddling in what she saw as strictly Martian business.

          Baird rolled up on the balls of his feet and obviously strained his neck to look her in the eye—then gave up. He made a frown...not quite contemptuous. She resented that, too. It was beginning to appear that Baird wouldn’t make it to the science station by the crater without a few bruises added to his fragile ego.

          “It’s starting to look like there are a lot of things different about you people,” he said.

          You people? Why, you little, compressed ass. She avoided backhanding him and smiled—a little.

          “Indeed,” she said.

          “I’m compelled to ask...Tamran, if you people are certain the data you have on this...um...purported structure are good?”

          You people again.

        Tamran briefly considered throwing him through the outlock into no-press, and relented—only because it would solve nothing and create more problems for her and the Martian Colonial Council.

          “We may do things differently, but we’re not ignorant savages, Baird. Info is info, and science is science. That thing at North Head City is not a purported anything. It is a structure...and no one from anywhere we know about put it there.”

          She hoped her tone would let Baird know he had started his verbal dance with her out of synch with Martian music.

          Their common roots could not be mistaken, though it continued to be difficult for her to accept that squash-bodies were human, too. Life on Mars, never easy and always dangerous, brought about a new social order with different rules, as well as the more apparent physical changes. There were also unique political priorities and ambitions that deepened the rift separating them.

          The strain that existed between the Martian Colonial Council and Earth Allied Council grew with each passing sol and she was certain it would not require much more time before a general collapse in relations occurred. None of that helped the situation of Tamran dealing with Baird, and she wondered if he would recognize the true extent of the problem. From his softened expression, and attempt to maintain proper eye contact, she concluded that the basics were beginning to make a dent. Maybe.

          They’d better be sinking in.

          “Please, Tamran, I merely suggest that there may be some error in the instruments or analyses, perhaps both, that has, for whatever reason, been overlooked. I didn’t mean to imply you have done anything wrong, or unprofessional. I include anyone else involved in this as well. We’re all after the same thing here.”

          We are? And what might that be?

          He was trying, she had to give him that much, but she could not ignore Baird staring at her breasts. That was another thing squash-body men—and women—did when they arrived in the colonies, with no exceptions, until they got used to the full, firm breasts of Martian women riding at or just above eye level because of the squash’s hi-grav compressed stature. It was another of the low gravity induced arrangements that turned into a theme for a number of squash-body jokes at Martian expense. The Martians devised a few of their own jabs, in very bad taste, about Earthside floppies that helped even the score a little.

          “No, Baird, absolutely not. We checked everything for any kind of error or malfunction. We found nothing. All the raw data were screened in every possible way. Again, nothing. Besides, all you have to do is look at the thing and you’ll know it wasn’t built by us or anyone else in our neighborhood. Naturally, we dispatched a team to the site to run some—”

          “You did what?” Baird shouted in a most disagreeable tone.

          She hated that. His interruptions were bad enough, but his manner made things worse. Particularly when it came from a squash-body whose whole reason for intruding in their business was to take the investigation of the thing out there from Council hands, not to mention replacing her.

          “You people were given specific instructions regarding official contact strategies and you were told plainly not to approach it until I arrived.”

          You people. You have a lot of nerve using language like that, Baird. Especially when you’re wandering behind enemy lines. And stop your childish squealing.

          “Yes, Baird, and those instructions were followed to the letter. They haven’t gone any closer than the top of the crater’s rim. The perimeter was sealed, too—just as the instructions called for—even though ordinary people out here aren’t in the habit of going for casual drives in the country. It’s not good for their continued good health and life-span.”

          Tamran turned to cast a quick glance through a slit window placed too high for Baird, then, in a show of defiance, she continued without giving him the Martian courtesy of eyes on.

          “The North Head City Express is going to be later than usual. That duster’s coming our way a lot faster than predicted. Anyway, everything our science staff was told to do was strictly passive. Seismic surveillance, spectroscopic analysis, atmospherics and EMF detection. Nothing else.”

          “Why wasn’t I made aware of this before now?”

          Tamran kept her hands clasped behind her and her gaze on the empty Tharsis Mons Spur rail.

          “And for what reason, Baird? Everyone out there is highly qualified and they’re all cognizant of the WAL’s regulations and protocol on alien contact.”

          After a brief silence, she turned to face him and allowed the hint of a smile to show on her face—a face that could have launched a thousand ships, if there were an ocean in which to launch them.

          “It is my understanding that you are the man responsible for most of what is in the WAL Accord on Alien Contact, am I right?”

          “Foundationally, yes. Just the basic fundamentals. I can’t take credit for authoring it, nor would I want to,” he said. She thought she caught a touch of bitterness in his voice.

          “I can’t say much of it makes any sense to me, but...but I’m not an expert in such esoteric matters as communicating with aliens. As for why you weren’t contacted, the truth is, the first reports from our observers came in about the time you started down from Deimos, and I was advised to hold the information and fill you in when you arrived here at Ascreus Station.” Okay, so it wasn’t the whole truth, but it was enough—for now.

         Tamran jerked her head toward the window she had been looking through and her little smile broadened enough to reveal the long canines the squash-bodies called fangs...even though they weren’t sharp. Baird took an instinctive step back. They, the fangs, frightened the squash-bodies. They reacted to Martian smiles as if they’d come face to face with a true-to-life vampire. She thought she would smile at him more often.
 

ANCIENT WHISPERS FROM TOMORROW earned a spot as FINALIST in the DREAM REALM AWARDS for 2008.  That it did so attests to its quality of story and writing.  Have a good read...!  Let me know what you think.  If you have any questions related to this book or anything else on my site I will respond in a timely fashion.  I'm always happy to hear from readers.  You will find my e-mail address below the Double Dragon banner on the home page of this site.