Chapter One: My Story Begins

Copyright 2009. All Rights Reserved.

I live on a space station, located out near the planet Helios, give or take a million light years. My father runs it, being sent there by the planet Earth to establish friendly contact with the aliens in this area, mostly so that Earth does not get a surprise attack in a couple of years. Personally, I think that their fears are groundless. The aliens I’ve seen are friendly and curious, although most of them are really ugly.
Even if they did decide for some unfathomable reason to attack Earth, my dad would be able to handle it. He is a very skilled engineer/astronaut who is fluent in many languages, most of them alien. Unfortunately, the one language that he can’t understand is Teenager.

My mother died when I was little, and I was raised by my father and by my electronic teacher, who has been with us for years. He is a haughty thing, though, and never stops reminding me that he once taught the President’s second cousin’s niece once upon a time. I am polite, however, and refrain from mentioning that he was only the substitute.
I’ve noticed that Dobbs has been losing a lot of words lately. His hard drive seems to be shot, but if we just get it replaced then he gets a new personality, so we’d have to take him to a specialist who would work to salvage his personality, and that’s really expensive.
At any rate, my dad is so wrapped up in communicating with the aliens that I doubt that he’s even noticed. Whenever he learned a new dialect he would come bounding over to me filled with enthusiasm, and immediately try to teach it to me. Unfortunately, I didn’t inherit his ability to easily learn languages, but after much effort on the part of each, I learned how to say “Hello” in five different alien languages, not including the Earth languages of English and Spanish.
All in all, though, for a girl who lives on a space station, my life was boring for a long time. Then one day, a new group of aliens came on board.
They seemed shady, and secretive. Each of them had this weird little suitcase thing that was made out of this black flexible rubber that was constantly quivering. It looked pretty gross, but I was curious, so I came closer. The aliens stared at me with their bulging eyes, and one, I suppose the leader, flicked his tongue out in acknowledgement.
I followed suit, although I almost smiled Earth fashion: they looked so very much like frogs. Just then my father emerged from the depths of the space station’s engine where he had been happily tinkering for the last hour.
“Yes?” he asked, launching into a strange language that sounded like he had swallowed his tongue. The leader listened gravely, and then replied in the same language.
“Ah!” my father said. He led our guests to the kitchen: to continue their conversation over a companionable cup of slodge, I deduced. Personally, I was not fond of the tangy, bitter taste of the dark green drink, but slodge was something that most life forms could drink and almost all liked.
After my father had started the slodge machine in its perkolating, he began an animated conversation. Even though I couldn't understand what they were saying, my father's sweeping gestures and the variety of expressions that he twisted his face into made their discussion amusing, to say the least.
From what I could understand of the conversation, the aliens were some kind of intergalactic traveling salesman. For the most part my father was disinterested, but sometimes an item would strike his fancy and begin the haggling process. When the slodge machine gave its Voltarian hiccup, announcing that the slodge was ready, I poured the slodge into cups for everyone.
My father, who had been busily rummaging through one of the suitcases, pulled out a small object with a triumphant
“Ah!” and handed it to me with a small flourish and a large smile.
“Um…. thanks.” I said uncertainly. “What is it?”
“What is it! This is only one of the greatest alien inventions ever!” my father replied enthusiastically.
“Oh.” I said. I examined carefully the strange object my father had handed to me. It was shaped like a small gun, but with a lot of levers on its side. I had no idea what it was for. Murder? Frying eggs? There was no way to tell from its appearance.
“It looks very… interesting.” I said politely, handing it back to my father. He looked disappointed.
“Don’t you like it?” he asked.
When my father gets that look on his face, he looks exactly like a small boy deprived of his favorite toy. I didn't want to disappoint him.
“Um, it's wonderful!” I said. He beamed.
“Good, then I’ll get it for you.” He said, handing the thing to one of the aliens.
“But--” I started, but it was too late. He was already deep in bargaining with the alien. I sighed and poured myself a cup of slodge, stirring it absent-mindedly.
I looked up to see that one of the aliens was watching me.
“Do you like it?” he asked. I jumped.
“You can speak English?”
“Well, no, but I do have a device like that which your friend is bargaining for.”
“What does it do, anyways?” I asked.
“It is a translator.” he said. “It will translate between almost any two languages. If you get an adapter, then you can have a conversation between aliens of three or more different languages.”
“Ah!” I said. “I’m terrible with languages.”
The alien pulled out of his little suitcase a plain, boring looking black box. It was small and inconspicuous, with a small hole in one side.
“What is that?” I asked politely.
“This is a transporter. It will take you almost anywhere you want to go.”
“Really?” I asked, fascinated. “Well, anywhere in this solar system, anyways.” He amended.
“Are you selling it?” I asked. I thought that if I had a device like that, I could take Dobbs back to Earth, or perhaps go to the Moon colony and explore.
“No, but I might trade it.” he said.
“Oh.” I said, my face falling. I gently handed it back to him. He looked at my downcast face for a moment, then pulled out another, smaller, transporter. This one was shaped like a book, instead of a cube. It was a dirty brown-black color.
“I can see that you don’t like this one as well.” he said.
“Well, no.” I admitted.
“It's true that this one can't go to as many places as the other one, and it is an older model. I haven’t used it in a long time, but I can give you some grease to shine it up with and it will work better. My suitcase is over-full, and the weight is killing my back.” he said. I looked at the transporter again. Suddenly, it looked better.
“What are you asking?” I said. He smiled in his frog-fashion.
“Only another cup of that most excellent slodge.”