A New Slant-- A Note from the Author, and Beginning Again (sort of)

You will notice at least two major changes in the chapter below: first of all, I've taken you back to the beginning. When looking over the first chapter of Lost, I realized: it's boring! So I rewrote it. Also, based on suggestions, I put it in the present tense instead of the past. Tell me what you think! To read the original Chapter One, click here:

http://lostasciencefictionstory.blogspot.com/2009/10/chapter-one-my-story-begins.html

It's not easy being the only teenager on a space station.
For that matter, it's not easy being one of only two people on a space station, especially when the other person is your dad. The hardest part is the boredom: even with modern technology, there's only so much to do. My dad ascribes to the old-fashioned belief that working with your hands is good for you, so I have my chores of room-cleaning, file organizing, and kitchen duty to fill some of the spare time. I'm not a clean freak though, so not every moment is spent in scrubbing. After all, the station was designed to be self-cleaning. In fact, my dad actually had to override the program to tell it to leave my room alone. My dad calls to me over the intercom system.
"Natalie, come to Docking Station Two. We have company."
"Coming!" I say. I leave my room and stride through the corridors of the space station towards the docking stations. The corridors used to move themselves, saving our legs, but when they broke down my dad just said that more exercise would be good for us. More exercise? He already has me use the station's fitness center for an hour every day-- how much exercise does one girl need? After a few minutes brisk walking I reach the second docking station, one of three. The station's designers assumed that it would have frequent traffic coming and going, but I can't remember ever having more than one group of people staying at a time. I stand beside my father.
"Do you know who it is?" I ask, peering through the glass at the small space ship as it carefully lands.
"Only that they're from Zynlat. The computer tells me that we've never met these particular representatives."
Our conversation stops as the doors glow red and beep twice, requesting permission to admit the visitors.
"I thought I fixed that." says my father, frowning slightly. "Permission granted, Computer."
The doors turn a peaceful green and begin to hum. I watch as two short, squat figures in olive green scosba suits exit their space ship and begin their clumsy walk towards us.
"These aliens had better not have red eyes." I mutter, remembering a recent ugly visitor.
"Natalie. Be polite." my dad tells me. I heave a long sigh.
"Oh, all right. These 'foreign born people' had better not have red eyes."
"Better. But call them Zynlations. And how do we greet them?"
I sigh again.
"Come on, Natalie, I know you learned this in Communication class." I stick my tongue out at my dad. "Very good! But try to make your expression a little less hostile. Remember, we're greeting them, not attacking them." my dad says. He gives me a rueful grin, and I give a very small and reluctant smile back. It's very hard not to return my dad's smiles.
"At least it will be a change from routine." I say.
"That's my girl." my dad says. The doors open, and we turn to greet the newcomers. As they take off the heads on their scosba suits, my father steps forward. He gives a greeting in the Zynaltions' native language, and hangs his tongue out in a friendly way: something that I would not have believed possible before. He introduces himself and me, I mangle my few words of welcome in Zynlation, and the conversation moves on. I am bad with languages, so I have no idea what the conversation is about. It would be rude for me to leave, so I try to interest myself by examining the newcomers. Their bodies are round, and their legs and arms short. They are humanoid-- a loose term that applies to any species that walks upright on two legs and has appendages that could pass for arms. They are sweating freely, their rough greenish blue skin moist, shining damply in the light.They have no hair. Their lips are wide and stretch over half of their head, their tongues are long, slender, and blue. I am glad to see that their large and bulgy eyes are not red, but instead are a soothing blue, with flecks of green deep within the iris. Their voices are the most attractive part of their appearance: deep, with each word flowing into the next, creating almost a song instead of a speech. Without even knowing what they are saying, I can understand what my lessons meant about the Zynlations being excellent politicians-- they sound very convincing.