Please watch out for stray starships - the little ones tend to get everywhere! Aktarians are a near extinct race of living starship whose origins predate the multiverse. The term Aktarian is the nearest equivalent in a human tongue to their own name of course.
I began this in 2014 where the idea of a child that could shape shift to an immortal starship randomly occurred to me, during a stress filled day as a very junior programmer.
This is a short preview. In the larger story there is one incidence of erotica, but it’s NOT repeated. I’m still deciding if/where this story should even be published
Contents
June 2018 - Likely to Cut Dis Stuff! :)
Arm Wrestling—unfinished whimsy
I meet Amay-Lia
The Great Ships, the Aktarians, held great power yet needed no weapon. Nothing known could harm one, yet her emotions, her deep inner life meant that she would bond and mate for life. This was only part accident, it was also part design. Connecting to, binding with all that is, communicating with any and all of reality, that is how a Great Ship lives.
Starship Whisperer, Unknown Archives
Allan
I first encountered her whilst walking round an old haunt, a place overlooking the dreary foam capped North Sea. A dark shadow blocked out the weak winter sun and as I looked up I saw a creature of many wings and a hint of dragon, hovering above me.
The creature was silent as I stood and stared upon a collection of wings with scintillating, riveting colours and patterns rioting rhythmically all over the body and limbs. The creature landed, I backed up; the creature was silent, my heart was loud.
We stood contemplating each other, frozen in that alien moment, a moment that, for me at least, where reality fractured and the unreal was let in. I was unable to move.
The head was pointed with translucent vanes passing from the nose to what looked like ears and other points on the face. A face it was, complete with large, odd shaped eyes set either side; each eye was faceted and beneath the glasslike surface a vivid, distinct pupil regarded me—bright green against blue, both colours layered deep with fractal patterns, cat-like but sideways.
A strange vibration passed through my skin and echoed inside my bones, an alien music rising and falling around and through me. The creature had transparent vanes, thousands of them, each one shivered and flexed in time to this music.
One fractal painted limb stretched towards me, it had vanes similar to those on its face and body. I stumbled backwards at this movement and sat down hard, barely noticing the nettles.
It flew off—I didn’t have a better term—and twisted gracefully into nothingness.
My walk abandoned, I headed home, the creature on my mind, haunting me, taunting me.
What was it? Where did it come from?
Mind whirling, I don’t sleep for hours, alcoholic medication proved hopeless, alien images burnt away the warm buzz of the beer.
That evening the creature appeared again, folding back into existence, following me as I walked home. It was watching me but this time, I was not so scared.
The world stood still as it ghosted along, keeping me company on my journey home and twisted away again once I got home. I resolved to say nothing to no-one of what I’d seen.
It was a week later; I was working on my land, when it came back.
I yelled this time, the suspense and fear mixed with curiosity, boiled over into frustration. “What are YOU?!"
The creature backed up and landed, the vibrations changed to a discordant mix of flute like sounds and a voice emerged.
I need help. A voice emerged from the discordant sounds, sibilance and susserance layered over each syllable, many voices woven together to make one.
I stood still, an answer was unexpected and not one in English.
Need help—this time a distinct feminine lilt to the musical voice.
“What kind of help?" My curiosity won.
There was no answer this time, she just watched me. Looking at her in turn, the overriding impression of many wings was only reinforced. There were three sets: front, middle and rear with each having at least three on each side—I’m still not certain, as they flex, they blur, divide, flickering into uncertain existence— at least eighteen wings and quite possibly many more made up this creature.
“What kind of help?" I said.
I need somewhere to stay.
“Why?"
I have to save my people.
“Why me? Why here?" Unsatisfied, still scared and puzzled by this strange creature.
I’m being chased, I need to stop and hide. Quieter now.
Despite the humanity in the voice as it ran through my body and mind, I saw a creature I’d no name for and, to my shame, could not get over my apprehension.
“I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do. I don’t know what you are or what trouble you are in. Please, please just find somewhere else."
Quiet flutings faded as once more her form twisted away into nothing.
My heart twisted too, under the fear, fear that turned to pain as she vanished—I thought forever. I yelled after her to come back but I yelled to an empty sky that held no answers.
Trying to sleep was torture this time.
Skirmish
To travel between multiverses, universes—realms of reality where fundamental physics changed and changed—need a strength, a resilience, a depth of structure that no single race has words for. The only thing known to harm a Great Ship, an Aktarian starship, is another. That is all.
Starship Whisperer, Unknown Archives
Amay-Lia
Space between realities rippled and burned at his presence, etheric thunder foreshadowing his form, etheric lightning flickering wildly between the interdimensional walls of the void between universes, that unknowable space that only her kind can live and travel within.
The dark shape twisted in place behind her, the void between universes rippled at its presence—a dark, brooding presence, a presence bearing the weight of ancient realities, a weight born watching universes die.
He’d found her.
Once again he’d found her.
He was a relentless, hounding presence that would never let go, never stop until there were none but him.
His aggression alien to the rest of her race, it had become all of who he was, perhaps all that he could ever be. Purpose twisted, perhaps lost beneath layers of resentment and rage, anger and hate.
She knew where he began, what he was meant to be but he couldn’t accept the facts of history and now, he had nearly revised it to his own image, simply by wiping out every last reminder of it. Every last descendant of his intended mate.
She shifted and dived away as hard as she could push in this non-space; too slow, too slow as if she wasn’t moving. He pounced, crashing hard, noiseless into her, tearing her with the obscene projections he’d expressed on his head, spikes and horns, blades and probes.
In the millions of years of her existence, she’d never felt pain—made up for now, all at once. Her ventrali screamed her agony and tore apart the non-reality in front of her. She dived headlong through, the gap snapping shut behind her, leaving him behind.
Crash
Body pain is alien to those that never had reason to. It was always pain of the soul, that unknown place that so mystified the most ancients, the great ships were most vulnerable.
Starship Whisperer, Unknown Archives
Waking to the sound of splintering wood, barking dogs and screaming flutes, I flew out of bed, grabbed the shotgun and slammed out the front door. In the wan moonlight, the barn was misshapen and lopsided; the once clean symmetric shape had a bite out of one side.
I crashed through the barn door, ripping it off the remaining hinge and stopped dead. Before me, amidst a bed of broken wood and straw lay the creature also splintered and torn.
Sad flutes whistled quietly, Help me, I’m dying.
The gems of her eyes faded, her head dropped, her life faded. She looked dead.
I stood shocked.
I touched her for the first time. She was warm, smooth with the slightest hint of texture. She didn’t stir.
For the next few days, whilst she slept, I kept vigil, hoping that this beautiful creature hadn’t died. I tried to move her but she was immovable. One eyelid concertinas open, the folds collapsing top and bottom. The spark of light, a pupil I assume, danced slowly around as she focussed on her surroundings.
Her flute sounds ran through the air. I’m back here again. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for this to happen. I need your help.
“What happened?" I asked “I’m no expert on aliens but you look wrecked—half your wings are torn or missing and something has clawed you open all down here." She was torn down her left side.
I promise I’ll tell you the story, but right now I need food.
“What do you eat?"
Dense matter, the denser the better. Half of my internal systems are gone; I’ve got to regenerate them.
“Wait, systems?" What creature describes their innards as systems? “I’ve got lead shotgun pellets. Will those work?" I said, grabbing a pack of pellets from one of the few shelves remaining upright.
Yes, I think so. And I’ll answer your questions, just need to feed first.
“Where do you want them?"
Put them in my ramscoop, right here. Neck articulating slightly, she drew my attention to the prow of her head.
I reach forwards and under, as if feeding a horse. She is unable to bend her mouth to where my hand was.
You’ll have to place them in my mouth for me. My head does not work that way.
“Ok, no biting." I said, a little nervously.
I don’t have teeth. The flutes sounds whispered now, a thousand tiny fingers of vibration wandered over my body.
Placing my hand right into her ramscoop, inner flanges inside the opening closed gently around my wrist and pulled the lead pellets from my hand. The sensation was not unpleasant; the inner membranes were like a cross between silk and fine chainmail. The resemblance of her ramscoop to a mouth was limited to placement and function: no tongue or teeth, the entire interior tube narrowed and flexed.
I withdrew my hand slowly from the warm entrance and sat back, watching as she consumed the material.
Her scoop was still closed when she rustled quietly, Thank you.
She didn’t speak via the ramscoop at all; her speech emerged from the muted music of her wings and vanes.
“How did this happen?" I said.
I have an enemy, one who believes none of us should exist.He found me. I’m the last of us, all my sisters were murdered. He nearly got me too."
“Who is he?" I said
Someone who was created for a great purpose but it was not to be. Allan, I’m sorry about when we last met. I’ve never sought a mate, I was clumsy.
I started, turned and stared at her—a mate?
“I’m sorry, what? A mate?"
“Yes, can we talk about it when I’m well again? Can we start over? I need a friend right now. Gentle flutes faded out*.*
“I’d like that." I said, as I stroked her head. Her eyes closed at my touch. I stood, trying to work out what she meant.
I sat staring at her form for a while, her head nearly as long as my body connected to her main hull by a short neck that was adorned by swept back armour-like metallic ruffles. Her body was a complex collection of wings and winglets, vanes and ventrali. Three by three pairs of wings stretched out either side, the rear most appearing the least substantial. Each wing further layered into multiple slimmer wings with yet smaller wings between until they blurred together. Much of her winged form was in motion, a subtle constantly varying musical vibration that drew me in until I was lost in her music.
Amay-Lia’s Convalescence
Many races not understanding the Great Ships when they met them, tried to ignore them. They were few in number after all. However, no people are of one mind and of all creatures, Aktarians are consummate communicators—to talk to reality, they have to be—and singular seducers—to mate with intelligent life wherever they find it suitable, they have to be.
Starship Whisperer, Unknown Archives
Allan
I snapped awake at her voice—a rising collection of flutes that emerged from the constant background harmony. Allan, you fell asleep.
With a start I scrambled to my feet. I’d been lying directly against her warm head, inches from the great blue jewel of an eye. “I’m sorry, I was listening to your wings and must have drifted off." I said, a bit embarrassed.
It was nice. I like your company.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you the other day—I guess it’s my fault that you got injured." I said.
How could you have known?
“Ok but how do I help you?" I said.
I just need to eat and rest, and to talk if that ok? We don’t suffer injury normally and this feeling is new to me. I thought I was about die.
“Well, I’ll have to find good sources of metal and you’ll need to stay hidden. It won’t take long to patch up the wall you bashed through. “ I said,“but you need somewhere out of sight until you’re able to fly again.”
I don’t know but I’m feeling stronger today, I can sense gravity waves again.
“That’s good right?”
Yes, I can lift a little now
“Have you any idea how much you weigh?” I asked, the hayloft might hold the weight of a small car. The old barn was constructed of greying but good wood, solid apart from the gaping hole in one wall.
I don’t know but I can use gravity webs to help reduce my weight.
What about when you need to fully rest? You could stay there until you can fly again." I pointed to the hayloft. “Only I use this space and you’d be safely hidden”
Would she collapse the hayloft as well? Where her wings folded lower than her body, they gouged into the earth, unaffected by it.
“I’m going to have to reinforce it, you’re no lightweight.” I said “First I’m going to need to cover your landing signs.”
I’m sorry about your building and your trouble, Allan.
“That doesn’t matter; I live alone and frankly, some excitement is good for the soul.” I said, meaning it.
I went to scavenge tools and tarp to cover the hole in the wall. Later I drove my tractor into the barn laden with scaffold and other materials.
“I can reinforce the hayloft to take your weight." I said, climbing from the tractor.
I began laying out the scaffold pieces; they were left over from another building. Whistling as I worked, the activity a welcome return to normality after the last two days. I was startled by a multi toned accompaniment to my own toneless warble.
“I didn’t know you could whistle." I said.
She looked right at me, ramscoop slightly open, I didn’t know you could not!
“Was that a joke?" Laughing, I walked over to her and stroked her head. “You must be feeling better."
She lifted off the ground a little, pushing up against my hand. I want to thank you for taking me in, after all the trouble I’ve caused.
“Trouble? It’s just a pile of wood, easily repaired and you get to apologise only once." I said, turning back to my work. “Just concentrate on getting better."
Truth was I wasn’t sure how I felt about her now. I’d never been close to anyone, hadn’t needed to be. Now, I wasn’t sure I wanted her to leave—there was something about her, alien or not, that I was becoming fond of. Her outlandish proposition now didn’t seem quite so outlandish. The memory of her feeding from my hand rose unbidden in my mind, my own loneliness emphasised.
“Can you tell me some more about yourself now?" I said, as I finished joining the first poles of the scaffold together.
I’m the last of a race of what you would call star ships built to travel between universes. She fixed one great eye on me.
Not an alien then, an alien ship.
“How does that even work? You’re not big enough to hold passengers are you?" She was only a little longer than my truck. Where would passengers sit?
I can fold space inside and carry a lot more than you think.
“What brought you here?" I turned to fix the scaffolding under the hayloft floor, the image of space folding a bit mind boggling.
Sentient life is rare in any universe. Your own universe is trillions of galaxies, each with hundreds of billions of stars, yet finding intelligence is rare. Your world is the second I’ve seen, the first tried to kill me. Flutes echoed sadly.
“So you’re explorers?" I said
We were designed to help our creators explore their creation, yes.
She was avoiding something important.
“Why sentience Amay-Lia? With the size of one universe, and you speak of many, what is important about sentience?" I said
Intelligence is a force in its own right and we needed more than computational ability. With rising flutes, she shifted round to face me more directly My Grandmother faced down and beat thousands of ships, each more than several miles long; she did it to protect the people of my father.
I looked at her, thinking that through.
“Race of your father? Is he not another like yourself?"
No, we were a created, designed species but the experiment that caused our existence was not a success. The first pair of Aktarian ships were meant to create an entire race but this never worked. Neither ship could fold space without severe pain nor could they conceive a child, no matter what our creators tried.
“Why was that needed? Why not just build ships?"
What does your science say about the finest details of reality Allan? Do you know what a whole universe really is?
“Well we have quantum mechanics and we know we can’t measure everything about the smallest things with any certainty but I don’t know more." I said.
A universe is a sentient being and to fold space, we communicate with it. But to do it, being a computer is not enough. And that is all our creators could make, ever finer computers. She shifted causing her wings blurring a little. I’m getting stronger now.
“So you’re not a machine?" I said
Not in the way you understand machines to be, no.
The scaffold was in place now, so I climbed up to organise the space she could hide. Music came from below; I looked over to stare directly into a great jewel of her eye. “You look like you are getting stronger; if you can get up to the hayloft, I’ve got just the space for you now." I said.
Wobbling, she lifted, her forward wings flexing, ventrali emitting a low musical hum as they grabbed at the air until she was at the level of the hayloft; she glided forward, the second and third wing sets trailing along the worn wood, leaving tracks in the dust and straw.
She floated over to the middle of hay bales before I had chance to move them about and settled.
Crackling straw, creaking floor, would it even hold? It did.
She continued “The first female Aktarian, my ultimate Grandmother solved the problem that our creators, the Yiss could not. She tolerated tortuous pain to fold her way into several universes, wanting to do what she was built for: explore and expand our race. And she did."
“How?" I said, trying to imagine what the answer was.
In your language, you have an idea of a soul, an eternal part of a person.
“Some of our religions do yes, though I don’t believe in it."
It is the best word to describe what is needed, the sentience accidently born in the realities the Yiss caused to come into being, carries within it something that cannot be built any other way. You would call this a soul or maybe a spark of life. My ancestor realised this is what we needed.
“How does a machine get this?" I said.
She didn’t, not for herself. She remained largely as our creators built her but she was able to create a hybrid of herself and the male of a six legged species from the third universe she visited. This ship, in many ways, is our true ancestor.
She flexed her wings and settled down, the slashes and ragged edges noticeably smaller now.
This ship took on many traits of her father—his drive, curiosity and capacity for love. As she grew older, she and her parents redesigned parts of what the Yiss originally put together. The daughter’s potential child existed before she met her own mate, several thousand years later.
The truth is Allan; we mate with some sentient species because we need the spark that comes from it to create life itself. Not all species can do it, but many can.
“How does a star ship mate with an organic creature?" I asked.
We are built such that most species that evolved through sexual reproduction can interact with our kind.
Her ventrali lifted a little as she lifted off moving round to face me more directly.
The Yiss didn’t intend to create the universes that are now present and being constantly reborn. The accident had complex unforeseen consequences whose interactions produced real life, vibrant, creative and energetic. The Yiss could never have done it themselves.
When they built us they hoped to mimic spontaneous life. It was only later that they realised their dream required the complex information packaging and energy that organic life provides. We had to learn to entice life in its many forms to interact with us, physically, intellectually and spiritually.
“Isn’t that a kind of psychic vampirism?" I said.
No, we mate for life and our partners gain as much as our race does. In exchange for the ability to give life to another Aktarian, our mates gain much from us. Extended life, shared experience of travelling the universe and, we may not have started as alive as your own species, we are now and as such we love. She lifted up to my eye line and started right at me, a shiver ran over my skin.
I couldn’t face those big blue jewels of hers just then, the memory of yelling at her made my face burn once more. “I think we need to focus on getting you well enough to fly again, Amay-Lia. You have to understand, our world have never seen an alien, never mind an alien ship. I’m finding I like you more the more I’m with you but I don’t know if a human can do what you are asking."
I know, I realise now that it’s not what an individual human would ever imagine but please give me time. I can share reality with you, fly by supernovae, black holes, galactic storms, chase wormholes and show you what the universe looks like from outside. Would you fly with me when I’m well?
Her longing fluttered through her ventrali.
Her appeal and her musical voice were affecting me now, making my own heart wobble. Turning away I said “Can we talk about this when you can fly?"
Of course, but realise this Allan: I’m the last of my kind other than the rogue and I wish to save my race. She fluted quietly.
“What would she look like if you had a daughter by a human?" I asked, genuinely curious now.
It’s hard to predict, each species brings something unique, something special to the mix. As a ship she will be similar in most respects to me though her differences will grow as she matures. She will also be human a lot of the time whilst she’s growing up. As to her human side, that depends on her father.
She nudged her head at me, her music rippling through my chest.
“You won’t give up on this will you?" I asked gently at her implied request again.
I can’t, Allan. She closed her eyes to rest once more.
I left her to rest in peace and to give myself space to reflect. Those sensations that I felt on my skin, a distracting tingle flowed through me every time she spoke, jumbling my thoughts.
The whole business was bizarre. I wasn’t precisely sure what she was after everything she told me. The one thing I did know was I wasn’t turning her away, not whilst she needed my help. My Dad taught me better than that and here, regardless of origin, was a damsel in considerable distress.
Walking out of the barn, I wandered down the dirt track to the cliff top. What to do next?
What business did I have getting involved in such goings on? Why me at all?
I went back to the barn, still chewing over this.
Walking through the door, climbing up to where she lay hidden, I looked at her, a shaft of dusty sunlight reflecting off her head, sending sparks dancing into my eyes. I walked over to her, sat next to her on a hay bale.
“Amay-Lia." I said gently, not wishing to startle her. “Can you tell me one thing? Why me? You could talk to anyone, anywhere but you came here?"
Allan, I don’t know what I can tell you that would be an adequate answer. The first time we met, it was just chance. However, you were courteous where others here were too startled to react. The second time, you still listened despite what you saw as impossible. but now, I’ve had time to get to know you.
Allan, it is simple for me. I didn’t intend to choose you but I have, it’s fate that has put me here.
“So you’re saying that there were other men but it didn’t work out?" I said
Yes, I approached a number of people on your planet but they were not right. For one, most reacted in a fearful way, a few tried to use me to make money by attempting to turn me into your authorities for cash. I didn’t appreciate the complexity of human relationships or duplicity. When I approached you, you were the last human I was to try—I was about to leave to seek life elsewhere.
“What do you mean?" I said
Your universe is one of a near infinite number, it contains several trillions of galaxies each containing hundreds to thousands of billions of stars. Life inhabits a tiny, tiny fraction of these and intelligent life is a tiny fraction of that.
She reached out, her arm disappearing into a haze, only to reappear with a bucket from by the barn door.
“That’s a neat trick." I said
It’s a little space fold, I’m getting my strength back now.
She held the bucket up. If you put a few grains of sand in here, the sand is planets with sentient life, the bucket your universe. Every universe I’ve seen is like this. I had a thousand sisters, the result of our race mating as many times with as many species in billions of years. Can you see now why any chance I can grab, I am anxious to take?
“I do." I said.
Recovery
Allan
The following few weeks were consumed with buying as much lead in the form of shotgun pellets as I could both locally and online.
Every day I watched her torn body regain a bit more symmetry as ventrali after ventrali slowly rebuilt itself. Her colours began to flow across her hull and wings and her music grew louder, more vibrant until one day I found her holding herself perfectly still several feet above the floor, not a wobble to be seen.
“I see you’re mobile again." I said.
Yes, I’ve got my gravity wings back—those are the large primary ones you see forward most. I should be able to lift myself now.
I sat next to her, unsure what to say next.
Day by day I found myself drawn to her as her voice reached right into me and made my heart do funny little dances; by night her great jewel eyes floated through my dreams staring into my soul; each day, I’d think of her and imagine what her child could be like.
When I heard others speak, I missed the fluting trills and layers of whispering music that made up her voice. To me, words were meant to be evoked from a complex symphony of sweet music, not simply stated directly.
She looked recovered now, six weeks after crashing into my barn with her wings in tatters. Her colours were alive again, her eyes vivid and expressive, her wings healthy with resonant vibrations and flexing against reality.
I watched Amay-Lia flexing her wings, expanding them out until they split and split, becoming many wings, some partially disappearing into somewhere else. She lifted her head, the hull like underneath was whole, unblemished and deeply patterned again.
She floated up, extended each of her hands; the rear ones worked as deftly as the front ones. It was hard to get the dragon image out of my mind, though she was free of scales or fire breathing.
She picked up an anvil I’d dragged into the barn for her and slowly crushed it in one six fingered hand then moulded it like putty, trying each hand in turn, until the anvil was a misshapen ball of iron.
“I didn’t know you could do that." I said
There’s a lot you don’t know. She turned, picked up the iron and threw it forwards then followed it, the iron stopped several feet in front of her nose and was squashed even more before she pulled it into her ramscoop.
I stared, “What was that?"
It’s my ram field, I can’t fit large chunks of matter into my ram without compressing it. We eat from stars, black holes and anything else with high energy density. I can scoop up a lot of matter with it.
“So when you asked me to place pellets in your mouth, was your field broken then?" I said.
I didn’t have the energy to use it, no, and it’s nice being fed.
Getting close
It was thought by the most ancient race that surely it would be sufficient to breed depth, complexity, layers to their ships. Surely more could not be needed. The infinite subtleties of their accidental infinite creations mocked them, denying them the easy access they desired.
No, much more was needed but artifice it, they could not.
Starship Whisperer. Unknown Archives.
I lay back next to her and whispered “I see you’re all better now."
Yes Allan, however, could you help me? Just check over all the places I can’t see. There a hint of something in the pipes and flutes of her voice I’d never heard before, deeper, headier overtone to her harmonies.
“How do you want me to proceed?" I said.
I’ll lift a little, just reach under and stroked along my hull, tell me if there are any sharp, rough areas that I can’t sense for myself. She took off slowly giving me room to work an arm under her body.
I did as she asked and felt the smooth hull reminiscent of an alien speed boat. It was pleasant to my fingertips nearly frictionless and smooth, it sent tingles through my fingers. I stroked her, following the lines of her hull, under the primary wing, the secondary and ducking under the ur-wing on her port side to come to the point of her tail. Her wings and ventrali shivered at my touch causing me to pause.
“Are you in pain?" I asked, looking at where I’d touched her. Nothing looked wrong, though her colours were shifting, the fractal patterns twisting and turning.
No, please don’t stop. A tinge of urgency in the flutes now as the fine folds of shining material surrounding her tail opened and flexed. I continued stroking, exploring her, admiring the delicate work of her body.
“You really are exquisite up close." I said, feeling her tremble and shiver in reply.
Her tail membranes pulled in tight over my hand as I reached to stroke below her tail, I tried to pull back, this was a sensitive place, but I found that the segments of material covering my hand were unyielding, hard as steel, firm around my hand and arm.
I said don’t stop. More urgency, even a peculiar warmth to her music now.
“Erm, you’ve trapped my arm." I said, “Let my arm go and I’ll continue."
The steel-like folds relaxed and blood rushed into my fingers again as I found more complexity under her tail than I expected. I looked down on the top half of it, realising that top and bottom were symmetrical.
There was an opening, a slit surrounded by a complex pattern of segmented shiny shapes arranged like a pair of elongated, delicate arch ways laid side by side, beneath my questing fingers.
“Amay-Lia, what am I looking at here." I said, lightly touching the areas of interest, she shifted a little at my touch, pushing into my hand.
Those are my vents. Those lead to our reproductive system.
I stopped touching and moved round to her starboard rear wing to continue my exploration. “You don’t casually go stroking a human this way; it is a very private thing." I said
It’s nice. She shifted as I moved from her intimate zones.
“A gentleman doesn’t simply take advantage of a lady; I was brought up to be a gentleman." I said
Walking back to her head, I looked directly into her eyes “You know if there’s something wrong don’t you." I said.
Blinking slowly, she tilted her head. I like your touch.
“Ok, let’s get something straight; honesty, I value it. If you want something, ask. If I can, I’ll help you but don’t play games." I said.
What I want is you, what I need is you, at this time in this place, all I want is you.
Coming away from her tail, I lay next her, looking into her left eye listening as she spoke again, her voice emerging from her orchestra of flutes.
“Amay-Lia, do your species kiss?" I asked
What do you mean?
“Humans kiss when attracted to each other, and I just want to try it with you." I said,
Would you show me? Ventrali rustled and shivered a little, subtle exotic mexican waves.
“When we care about someone, we don’t just mate. We court and kissing is part of courting." I said
What is courting?
“It’s a way of getting to know someone and connect with them." I said, shuffling about a bit at having to explain something that I’d never tried to explain before. Reaching over, I stroked her ramscoop, causing her quivering ventrali to flatten and rise rhythmically around her head as she examined the sensation.
No species I know does this; it’s nice so please do it again.
“You feel that there?" I said
Yes, we need to sense what we are taking in when feeding.
I shifted around to look directly at her nose again, “You sure." I teased.
She pushed into me gently, pushing her nose into mine. After all these weeks, you think I’ll turn you down now?
“Just wanted to be sure." I said, my voice coming out husky. Her ram scoop was close enough to a mouth to work; I brushed my lips against her outer lips, the surface smooth and warm, solid against my own flesh. The lower lip half opened in response.
Flicking my tongue over the surface, I tasted faint burnt star stuff, a slight tang of metals and spice. Pushing my face into her a little more, I attempted to reach in a bit further with my tongue, just like I would with a human. She flexed the inner lips of her scoop tight enough to grip my tongue, the inner surfaces flexing all round to pull at me as I probed and tasted her.
A thrill ran through me as the subtle smooth inner mesh of the inner membranes massaged my tongue as the inner lips held it trapped. She learnt fast as she mimicked my kissing action with erotic precision.
I hugged her head or at least all that I could get at and stroked the curves and edges of her face. The comparison to the head of a stylised dragon was hard to avoid—long shapely snout, sharp looking ventrali and curves, jewel eyes set either side of her head. Underneath, below her scoop the similarity disappeared into the aquiline hull shape of her lower body.
Stepping back, trailing my hands over her head, ducking under each wing set, stroking as I went, I ended up back between her third wings and tail; I reached under her, to her lower vent, it was part opened already, the metallic petals protecting it unfolded further at my touch.
Slowly I reached in, she gasped as I touched the softer, smooth inner membrane. Silky, a touch oily to my questing fingers, I feel small spasms in her vent walls. She started to grip my fingers, the outer petals fold around my wrist, soft but firm, I couldn’t go deeper nor back out.
I stroked her belly with my free hand, just about able to reach the top of her rear limbs that are unfolded, planted into the earth below. They buckled as my free hand wandered over the angles and curves of her underside whilst my trapped one explored, fingers at least free, her hot, moist inner vent.
Her grip tightened, close to pain, closing and opening in rhythm as I timed my fingering to her pulses-I’ve learned what she likes. Yet, she didn’t free my hand; I fear I may lose a finger if I’m not careful but I continued, saying nothing, knowing she can’t stop or think of anything other than her rising feelings.
The chorus started, the ventrali over her wings lifting and falling in rhythm and counterpoint to her pulsing insides.
She sighs, she sings, her music thrilling through me; her main voice rises whilst her ventrali harmonise, some falling, some rising. The choir of angels is back now, different from the space folding song, deeper, with intention, as if song alone would conceive her child. She is not ready yet for that, neither am I. So fingers aching now, shoulder burning, I gently claw her insides, feeling for where she needs it the most and oblige, the gentleman that I am, as her whole body lifts and drops, wings fluttering and flaring as she drops down from each rise.
She releases my arm, Lay back she flutes quietly, her voice rippling over my skin. Her lower ventrali reach under me and cradle me close, pulling me in tight, deep.
The music runs through us both for hours, as she worked to show me some of her mysteries, mysteries millions of years old, mysteries millions of years subtle and sublime. I could feel our souls linking, merging, sparking deep fire inside and something more.
She had with me what she sought. And, alien as it was, I knew I wanted nothing more.
Flight
Watching an Aktarian dance was every bit as enthralling as hearing her singing as she folds her way from place to place. The singing is what the universe needs to hear to be persuaded to help the ship on her way.
Amay-Lia tipped and span as if balanced on the tip of one wing, then as quickly shifted to the other, describing an elongated letter S that shimmered briefly in the air as her movement completed. Then rolling backwards, she reversed the manoeuvre before flipping to the tip of one ur-wing, spinning then swapping to the other. Finally her primary wings, flexed wide and dug deep into the reality beyond the chill of the night, gripping hard, vibrating their ventrali furiously, they flickered and pushed her blurring and whistling over my head, rocketing up the mountain spraying sonic booms
If she’d flexed her secondary wings the same way, she’d be at Pluto already; as for her ur-wings, she’d have exited this universe rather than simply thrust against its gravity web.
I heard her return from behind yet she was there, right in front of me; having reached several multiples of Mach one, she beat the sound of her passage.
“It looks like you’re in one piece again." I said, brushing off some dead leaves that she’d blown up my clothes.
I feel like me again. She banked round to put her head eye-level with mine, her great blue eyes nearly as large as my entire head. You want to fly?
“Can I?" After looking after her for months, I’d almost forgotten what she was.
She turned and presented an iris entry into her hull proper.
Yes, I can fly now, I’d like to fly with you now.
I climbed through the open portal, expecting to climb into a small space as she was not a large ship; however once through I was surprised to find I stood upright easily and there was a decent amount of space, far more than the outside should contain.
“Amay-Lia, how exactly are you bigger inside than the outside?" I asked.
I fold space to travel, this involves interdimensional shifting; I’m also able to partially rearrange this part of my body to accommodate a number of passengers using the same principle. It can’t be used anywhere too complex like the matter transmutation and energy matrices, nor some of my other more complex body functions but this area is quite simple.
“So, basically like Dr Who’s TARDIS then?" I said
What’s that?
“A fictional time travel device from a TV show—not as pretty as you but the same idea about being bigger on the inside than the outside." I said.
I can’t time travel—if I tried, I’d simply be unable to fold space back into a universe in that way.
“What do you mean?"
How much do you know about time? What it really is?
“It passes; we measure it but not much more. Something about how it slows down in stronger gravity wells but that’s all." I said.
Well, time emerges out of the interaction of other things, it’s a result of constant change. View a universe from the outside, it appears static as everything that’s ever happened or will happen is all at once."
“Wait, does that mean you can see everything at any time?" I said, struggling with the concept.
Not, it’s opaque. If I tried to intersect with the universe anywhere prior to where I’d already been I’d be unable to do so. The universe would be unable to fold and let me in anywhere prior to a previous entry. We have freedom of all accessible reality but nothing allows for any entity to re-enter a universe before a time in that universe they’d previously perceived.
I sat down on a single chair that formed itself around my body out of a shiny flexible mesh, a material similar to that of her ram scoop interior. I looked around, noting a decided lack of controls; instead there was a sheer view screen that wrapped around the entire forward area.
“So, when you were attacked, there was no way an enemy could reach back in time to capture you before you escaped?" I said as I lay back, luxuriating in the wrap around seat. “You know, I really could do with one of these."
I’m glad you like it, some of our journeys could be long ones.
“Some? We’re doing more than one?" I said, sitting up a little
I hope so Allan, I hope so.
The ground receded rapidly from the view as she took off..
Katiya’s birth
The great mystery of the Great Ships, the Aktarians, is their life cycle. First, it’s not a true cycle, for that implies endings and left to their nature, they do not end. The mystery, however, is how the first ship created and bore her child; or perhaps, more the case, why?
Starship Whisperer, Unknown Archives
A long soulful note echoes around the barn, followed by another; unearthly screams shatter glass, the car alarm shrills counterpoint, the dogs howl, backing her scream song. Strident harmonies ripple through the air, beauty alternating with pain.
Alan wakes to see Amay-Lia bucking and diving, wings flaring, ventrali flexing reality around her as she struggles to rip it open. In her millions of years of life she has never experienced the pain, the exquisite torture of creating new life.
Reality parts, finally, at her need and she rushes through craving the heat of a sun; Alan stares.
A tiny star flowers next to our own as the petals of Amay-Lia’s unfolding open out scant miles above the solar surface.
Writhing and dancing through solar flares, her wings expand and claw through multiple realities as the pain of her daughter’s birth racks her frame; her upper and lower vents widen, unify to become a single opening dividing her rear. Ur-wings grip at space and hook into many dimensions, a thousand, thousand tiny claws many times smaller than the tiniest quark, grab and hold; she pulls from the left and pulls from the right to split her body apart from tail to her vents.
Shuddering in orgasmic agony, her upper and lower ventrali lift and part out of the way—a twenty one gun salute for the unborn. Her secondary wings flex forward and out, gripping again with a myriad of gossamer claws, holding her rock steady and anchored this time to the gravity waves that make up our universe. The dance halts and a miniature pointed snout emerges from the new opening: a slow, graceful, gentle undocking belying the exquisite birth pains that heralded her arrival.
Tiny wings shoulder out behind, each flexing in turn as the youngster struggles to escape the security of her mother. She turns her head to the heat and light of the sun, it gives her strength, beckons her on as Amay-Lia gives a final thrust propelling her daughter into life.
Her daughter turns, floating free barely grasping at reality, Amay-Lia reaches her and nuzzles at her, snout to snout. Guiding her, she directs her at the roaring furnace below, instinct takes over the young star ship as she follows her mother and dives into the Sun’s chromosphere aiming for its nuclear heart: hot plasma runs through her body, filling her, feeding her, causing her wings to unfold and take form, opening her eyes and her mind.
As they fly, their song thrums through the sun itself, Amay-Lia’s birth pains vanish from her rich deep harmonies; instead they are accompanied by her daughter’s trilling counterpoints.
Through the sun’s heart, racing to the other side, exiting with a fanfare of solar flares Amay-Lia reaches her daughter and holds her close, spins and unfolds space once more. Clasped together as one, they race through and come to a halt, in the silence of the barn.
Alan is still staring.
Unfolding her wings, she holds out her daughter—a tiny bundle of refolding wings and snout—to her father.
Alan, meet your daughter, Katiya.
She drops to the floor, exhausted but happy.
Reaching out in a daze, he holds onto the tiny bundle of life as if the merest touch would break her. She stirs, wings unfurling the tiniest bit, one dark jewel opening to gaze at him. In silence, Katiya and Alan regard each other.
Baby Starship
There was something faintly ridiculous about the infant Aktarian: comedy, cuteness and cleverness all wrapped up in alternating adroitness and clumsiness in flight. Many do not understand why a species ,known often as Great Ships, have to be born and grow at all. Reality does not listen to a device of pure artifice, only to beings with a soul, and a soul is born and grown, never made.
Starship Whisperer, Unknown Archives
I hold her, unbelieving, still, silent. The barn is silent, the world stopped, her birth acknowledged.
Frozen now, I hold this tiny, delicate seeming little ship, this child of mine, still uncomprehending but anxious—what should I do for her?
Fluting whispers stir the night air.
She’s fine. She needs her father for a while, just hold her, I need to rest. Go eat, please.
A little numb now my autopilot engaged, and, with the tiny ship swaddled in my arms, I staggered into the house.
What do I do for her; I know nothing of bringing up children. Katiya stirs, nuzzling into me a little more, I hold her tight, and I smell the delicate scorched scent of stars on her. The stove is still alight, the kitchen is warm, and I sit and hold her, still dazed, still wondering.
“What happens now?” My thoughts whirled round, emotions bumbling, the centre of my world has changed: it’s winged and jewel eyed now; I never want to let her go.
I woke still holding a warm bundle of wings; the little miracle was still unreal to me. Sleeping, she hums with many tiny voices, her ventrali shifting slightly in a rhythm as if breathing. I was reluctant to put her down but nature’s call was getting insistent.
When Katiya was left in my care, she didn’t sleep for long.
Eighteen wings stretch and caress the air, creating gravity web gradients by instinct. Her wings stretched out, the tiny ventrali she was born with quivered and her vivid blue eyes flicked wide open. Out of the crib she shot, aimed right for my nose and stopped dead, stared at me, blinking occasionally.
As I watched I noticed that her blinking was aping my own, so I tried closing one eye, she did the same. She was already playing.
This game went on for a few minutes, then she flew forwards slightly, tipped her tail down and set about landing against me. She was just over a foot long; I felt tiny smooth claws pressing against me as she settled. I staggered under her weight and sat down with a thump.
Her head rested against my cheek, the most normal thing in the world, like any other child, demanding and enjoying a cuddle. I could hear tiny fluting sounds that followed my own breath as if she too was breathing. My left hand rested on her back, I’d managed to reach between the first and second sets of wings, my other hand was cupped under her tail. It was the strangest sensation as she looked sharp edged and awkward to hold yet the precise edges never affected my hands.
Her skin was warm, frictionless and silk to the touch. Where her face rested on mine, I could feel her curves, even her eyelid where she blinked. I held her for a while, she was quiet in my arms, only tiny vibrations in her body and ventrali let me know she was alive. Her smooth claws gripped ever so slightly, just enough for her not to slip off.
After a while, I wanted to move and I was curious. I couldn’t see her properly like this, so I gently lifted her up to get a proper look at my daughter. Her fluting quickened in response, her wings stirred but that was all. Her head dipped and tilted a little, just like her Mom, she had a small range of motion in the join between her head and neck.
Holding her up, I found her much heavier than a human child. Underneath she had two sets of limbs, forearms and rear legs—that’s how I saw them—although the claws on both looked equally as complex and able. They’re hexadactyl with a tiny manipulator at the end of each finger. Each limb was a slim, shiny appendage that would fold away into her body when flying. Just like Amay-Lia, her underbelly looked like it was meant for high speed water travel.
Her colours shifted as I watched, tending to metallic purples and deep reds. I don’t know if these signified feelings or something else, but it was pretty. She wriggled her wings a little, shifted about to look at me with both eyes now. Her ramscoop, tiny thing compared to her Mom, opened and her fluting rose to a delicate cry. Some things are universal.
I hunted round the kitchen to see what would work for her and found the last box of lead pellets I’d bought for her Mom. I settled her on my lap, her head at my chest and offered her a pellet—she grabbed it with her scoop, the lead compressed to a tiny dot in the invisible field that extended a few inches outside of her ramscoop before it vanished; I felt heat from the opening as the material was consumed.
“Hungry then?” I said
She blinked at me and opened her scoop again. I gave her several more, fascinated by the velocity at which the .22 pellets disappeared, a small burst of heat resulting from each one. Soon she stopped eating and settled down to sleep.
That’s when I got the second big surprise. As the ship went still, her wings faded, her body shifted and her limbs stopped pressing on me. Within moments I was looking down at the tiny pink smoothness of a human baby lying on her stomach. I grabbed a blanket, trying not to wake her and wrapped her in it.
What now? I didn’t know what to expect really, I knew the ships were hybrids but now I realised it meant I was a Dad twice over: the unknown territory of handling a baby starship; and the alien enough, to me, task of raising a human child.
Although Amay-Lia would help with the former, she’d have no clue about the latter. Neither did I but how hard could it be? At least human babies can’t fly.
Life with Katiya
She nuzzles me, flying right into my face, forcing me to confront her, eskimo style, nose to nose, high pitched vibrations from her tiny ventrali tickling my nostrils making me wrinkle my nose, nearly making me sneeze. Successful in this arctic style greeting, she spins, showing me her tail and zooms off, circling, gambolling and flipping round the room, brushing the furniture, yet never hitting anything.
“Katiya, slow down, come and play outside.” I fear for my furniture, one TV has already proven no match for her pointy little nose.
Flying behind the sofa, she ignores my pleas, preferring to play more. She backs behind the sofa, then pops up and over it, zooming at me once more, stopping at my face. I’m cross eyed looking at her now, she nudges forwards, touching me again—this time she keeps bumping my nose, softly. She loves this game, she won’t go away until she gets what she wants. I kiss her gently on the nose and she settles down on my lap, her tiny wings pulling in tight as she rests from her exertions.
Looking after Katiya when she was in human form was far more predictable: bottles of warmed formula, nappies and all the other paraphernalia became routine. Even the odd sleepless night, though I was quite aware of how lightly I got off compared to most as Katiya rarely woke in her human form at night.
On the other hand, an infant star ship is comical to watch as they’re toddlers from day one. Right from birth they are flying by reflex, indeed their maiden flight through the core of a star is necessary to ignite their soul yet a ship a few weeks old will still wobble in flight, bounce off obstacles and generally make a nuisance of herself in confined spaces.
Add to that her childish sense of mischief and need to explore both her surroundings and what she can do, it’s an adventure looking after her.
Katiya’s favourite game as a baby was folding space to grab prizes. That was my fault; I was trying to find a way to amuse a hyperactive young starship with limitless energy.
She’d only stop when she switched forms to her human side; when one side slept, the other usually came out to play. Fortunately for my sleep cycle and sanity, her Mom helped a lot and Katiya was only hyperactive most but not all her waking hours. Her favourite game was simple—she had to catch or snatch her food from me. I don’t know who started the game, I think it was by accident but she spent a lot of time convincing me to play by flight and gesture.
I’d either throw the food in the air or I’d play keep away with it. Ball bearings were the current favourite, the iron dense enough to be worth catching.
Right now I’ve got one hidden in one hand and I know what’s going to happen next: I can’t see her but gentle high pitched fluting giggles gave away the space fold—I saw them as air holes—and a tiny purple head reaching through it, nosing at the correct hand so according to the rules, I opened my fist and felt her ramscoop questing to grab the sphere of iron.
I turned but the fold was gone, her with it. I looked round, there she was sat, wings vibrating in pleasure at winning again as she took in the iron. Fortunately for the kitchen table, she hadn’t grown much in the first few weeks but her control was improving—at least over small air holes.
The same couldn’t be said for normal flight, my walls were already scarred with triple claw-like slashes where a set of wings got too close like Wolverine in a blind frenzy. There was even a cartoonish symmetrical dent in the steel cowl above the oven, in the shape of her head right down to the spines - just like Road Runner.
How that didn’t hurt her, I don’t understand.
The day she did that, I howled with laughter at the sight. Her wings and ventrali flared right out, the wings themselves expanded and became translucent; her fluting was indignant and loud. At first I thought she was hurt but no, she was trying to extract her head from the enclosing steel she’d rammed into. I didn’t even see her hit it but I definitely heard it; the sight of her trying to grab the steel with her claws to push her head out is one I’ll always treasure.
She did get out in the end, her expanded wings finally coordinated themselves and pulled hard.
Pop, her head flew out, the spiny horn in the centre flexed back into position. She looked at the hood with indignation as if it was the cooker hood’s fault being in her way. I couldn’t help but laugh—she spun and looked at me the same way, then dived on me, knocking me on the floor, a ticked off little starship fluting at me, staring right into my eyes.
I stroked her belly and held her close. She likes the touch and she stopped sounding so indignant.
“You’d have made a hole in the wall, again, if that hadn’t been there you know.” I said, I’m not sure how much she understands me yet though I suspect quite a lot.
“Are you going to let me up?” I said
If you keep being nice to her when she attacks you, why should she? Amay-Lia’s head poked into the kitchen through another fold, this time from the barn.
“Well, I can’t really help it—what else am I going to do?” I said, “She’s too young to tell off and well, she’s got to learn to fly.”
I’ll leave that problem with you I think.
Katiya pushed off from me, leaving me rubbing where her forelimbs pressed bone and flew to her Mom. It would be awhile before Katiya would talk in either form but her eyes and wings said plenty. I watched as they looked at each other, fluting in harmony, her high pitches counterpoint to her Mom’s deep rich notes.
Letting a baby starship help with cooking was a recipe for redecoration. I didn’t appreciate what her ventrali did until uncontrolled ship laughter sprayed the walls, floor, windows and cupboard doors with a light fine coating of chocolate.
When she’s flying around as her ship self, she tries to speak with her ventrali, near transparent whisker like ribbons that run over her face, wings and legs. They vibrate in many ways and allow her to do many things but at a few weeks old, cooking wasn’t one of them.
The bowl of chocolate mix was just the right size for her head to sneak into when my back was turned—do all kids love chocolate, even alien ones?
The result wasn’t a ramscoop full of chocolate as she planned, her ventrali did a fine mixing job because she really can’t control her giggling when she’s up to no good; she mixed the chocolate with every surface in the place.
“Thanks for that." I said as I picked chocolate out of my left eye, she’d caught me as I was turning round. She’d ended up sitting perfectly composed on the sideboard, bowl perfectly empty and clean—the chocolate was everywhere else but in the bowl.
We didn’t have chocolate brownies that night.
Bathing posed a similar problem if she decided to play; I’d be bathing her in her human form, all innocent gurgles and normal human skin, skin that needed a bath like any other skin.
The first time, I got no warning and was treated to the strange sight of her body becoming indistinct, ventrali appearing through the flesh, chubby baby face gaining fine whiskers that flickered in the light, her nose lengthening, eyes shifting shape and migrating round her head, hands and fingers lengthening, dividing in the middle, gaining an extra thumb each; each hand in turn gaining tiny, tiny ventrali running over their backs and up the arm, her legs mirroring this process whilst her torso levitated and tipped forward, held in mid air, water streaming off as her wings opened out, her shoulders and hips rotated and morphed until both legs and arms were underneath her body.
At this point I’d be staring at a baby ship that didn’t quite fit into the bath, but her hands did—she’d giggle through her ventrali on her hands and the water would spray everywhere in fine arching misty little rainbows reflecting from the bathroom light as she proceeded to soak the place .
Now I know what to do, if she pulls that off, I exit stage left, closing the bathroom door until she’s done with her fun. She’ll follow me out, space folding through the door but at least she’ll be dry.
Katiya—Tiya: First Flight
The Great Ships were always two minds at first, it was the only way to grow a soul. Yet, in many species, the complexity of the Ship mind meant the organic one took years to develop such that connection between was possible.
The most peculiar difficulty for the client parent wasn’t this time. It was the time the two became one. For some, who did not understand, it was a time of grief too.
*Starship Whisperer, Unknown Archives*
Katiya
I tumbled off the cliff, following the pebble I tossed out to sea. As I fell, I heard laughter like music in my mind as my arms and legs scrabbled in the air trying to grip at something, anything, but there was nothing to grip; then they changed: first each arm and leg felt more distant, not quite part of me, then there were more of them, lots of more of them yet I could not turn to see what it was I could feel.
My fall was taking a long time then it stopped. I hung in the air.
My body was changing, my arms were changing, my legs were changing and there was music in my bones, music in my muscles and music running deep, fast and tingly in my skin—getting stronger and stronger.
Haha, finally, we can play together!
A voice in my mind, it sounded like loads of flutes, violins and other instruments playing together to make words come out, startled me; I wobbled in the air, tipped forwards, bashed myself nose first into the cliff yet it didn’t hurt—well not me anyway as small rocks fell off the cliff to clatter, crash and shatter onto the beach below.
My arms were wings now, I could see them.
“What is happening? I asked myself as the cliff receded below me. The bash into the cliff surprised me, but hadn’t hurt. “What am I?"
You are me, and I am you. Hello. The fluting voice again, it was a bit like mine, in my head, but really pretty and made of music.
“Who are you?" I said
I just told you! Doofus, I is you.
The music giggled, I felt myself backing away from the sharp rocks and my fright slowly gave way to excitement, I was held in the air, moving an arm or a leg caused me to tilt and sway. “I’m a bird? How did this happen? Can I get home?"
Of course but can we now go fly, getting bored!
Yet, my excitement overrode everything; I was FLYING, like a superhero.
“How high can I go?"
We can just keep going but Daddy will get worried.
“Dad knows?" I said, “Hang on, I still don’t get it."
Um look, just try flying and I’ll tell you later.
Wobbling, I lifted and tried to imagine how to go up—nothing happened at first—then I tilted up then followed a soaring seagull as I rose, then dove, chasing it as it raced for a meal. I won the race and smashed into the shallow bit at the edge of the sea. It didn’t hurt but it made me jump. Half buried in the shallow sea and mud, I pulled myself up and out and didn’t notice the cold.
Flute giggles again.
Doofus again, lemme show you a bit.
It wasn’t me this time when up I fly again, this time feeling tiny lines of tension in the invisible lines that my wings are pulling on. I’m flying like a bird.
Up in the sky, I can see so many colours, details, the clouds are close, fine, inviting. We soared up again, I get the hang of flying now, the clouds pull closer and closer to me, until realising I am getting far from home when I look down and see the great cliffs becoming tiny.
“This is far enough, I need to wake up now." Slowing down, excitement warring with fright, this isn’t a dream. “This can’t be real, what is happening?"
Is silly doofus, is not a dream.
I didn’t believe her and deciding once more that it must be a great dream, I decided to explore. “Maybe I’ll wake up soon, I’ll explore then, if it’s a dream I can go as fast as I want."
Hehe
Giggles again.
Thoughts to actions, I hold myself still in the sunlight, my wings trembling in anticipation as I imagine how fast I might go.
The sea is grey with fluffy white curls, the sun orange streaks upon the waves. I face the sun, the webs and lines of tension that my wings keep pulling on run through me, inside me and stretch out to everywhere, I’m the centre of the biggest spider web ever; my body is impatient, my mind barely understanding but I’m enjoying this game, this dream game of flight.
Tipping my nose forwards, the sky tilts and the sea fills my sight as I push, push and push as hard as I can against the webs that my wings catch and hook.
The sea rushes at me, foamy horses grow great, I bash through the waves pulling myself level, not wishing to dive yet again. Wave after wave, wall after wall, squealing laughter as I fly faster and faster, the webs easier and easier to find and to pull push against.
My wings folding and flexing….I lift again, finding ever more speed, racing towards the sun, the sea rushing into a blur, the air around me becoming heavy and cold as it screams over my body, yet stopping me, not stopping me at all.
Tingles race through my body as I rise into great grey storm clouds, filled with lightning and thunder; the lightning doesn’t hurt, instead it gives me strength, gives me power as I scream through the storm wrapping it around me, thunderclaps filling the air as I smash the sound barrier again and again.
Diving from the clouds, skimming over the sea, I can’t find my way home. I recognise nowhere, it’s all the same.
“Maybe I should fly higher”
Silly doofus, I not lost. Go higher, I’ll show you.
“Hey, why am I doofus? Who ARE you?" I said.
Can we fly now and I’ll tell you later?
I did want to fly, so I gave up asking.
I tip back and darted into the sky once more, stopping just below the clouds. Holding myself in the air once more, I slowly turn and scan the earth, looking for something I know. “I flew to the sun, so it’s the right way.” I thought.
Aiming my nose back where I thought I came, I rushed, wind whistling through my wings back to where I hoped home was. Cliffs appeared but they all looked the same!
Slowing down, I tried hard to remember which one was mine.
Look here, lookit that gap.
There it is, a gap in the cliffs, where the Kyle exits and then the small beach with its new pile of rocks freshly scraped from the cliff. Relieved, I glide over the top, hoping no one will see me and sneaks to the barn.
“Dream person, how did you know?" I said
More giggles, she giggled a lot at this dream person.
I’m real, doofus and I fly all the time. You just sleeping so much! Look in this window.
We fly close to a window in the old shed; I finally catch sight of myself. My reflection makes my wobble a little, “I’m not a bird! What am I?"
A great jewel in a shiny dragon like head stares back at my—if dragons were metal, with vents and shiny bits curving around them. Turning myself to try and see more in the small window, I see curving wings with smaller wings coming out of them, little wings that reach over my back. I have lots of wings.
“I’m a dragon?" I said, this time I hear flutes in my own voice, the window rattles.
No, hahaha, no there’s no such things silly. We is a starship and we gonna have so much fun now we can talk.
“I’m a star ship! What a dream!” I said, looking at my reflection. Delicate little wing-like blades and vanes, rising and falling as I speak, run symmetrically over my face, to the point of my nose and right up the sides of my head. “Wow, I never had a dream like this before”
Wanting to wake up and go tell my Dad, I try to change back, but can’t. I fly into the barn, up, up into the hayloft and settle down on the hay.
It not be how you change back you know but why do you want to change? I can talk easier to you now.
“If it’s a dream, I’ll wake up in bed.” I said.
Silly, I think. You is not dreaming.
I don’t believe music voice; I’m just having a good dream. I think. She goes quiet.
After lying for a time, I doze.
Straw tickling my nose, I wake up, lying face down on the hay.
Memory rushed in: wings, flying, the music voice.
I’m in the barn? I did that in my dream but I should be in bed now.
“Not a dream? What.” Confused, I sit up and try to think. Should I tell my Dad, tell him about my dream? Except I couldn’t change, I didn’t know how it happened the first time; he wouldn’t believe me.
Flute giggles again.
Silly doofus, you still think it was dream? Just wait till you meet Mom.
I got angry this time. “She is gone, Dad said so." I said, I didn’t know what happened to her.
No, no, no Mommy is not gone. She fluted in my head, loud this time. Grrr, you is silly. Dad had to say that. Look you, half of you is me and half of me is you and just listen to me.
“No, how can you be saying things in my head?" I said, the excitement of flying faded, I was confused and still angry at this ghost person in my head.
Ok, look Mommy is not gone. Is just you and me couldn’t talk to each other yet. She was quieter again, You were too young.
“Hang on; if you are me, then you are my age?"
Yes but I’m your Aktarian half and we are different.
“Um Aktarian?"
Is what Mom says we are." She said “Wanna meet Mommy?
I was still confused and didn’t know what to say.
Lookit, lemme change and we go meet Mommy.
“How do I let you?"
When you sleep I can change, but when you wake up, I need to get you to stop so I can change us. I think, if you just think about nothing much, I can do it.
I tried but my head was whirling too much.
Doofus, stop doing all them spiky spinny thoughts.
“Sorry, you just told me I can change into a starship thing that I saw is like a dragon and now want me to meet Mom." I said, walking around the barn now. “It is hard to think about nothing. Dad said Mom went away."
She does, but don’t you remember, he didn’t say how long she went away. Keep trying for a minute. I’ll try and change us.
I felt tingles, tickles inside me, just under my skin, like I had more muscles or something. I looked at my hands where the tickling was strongest, there were faint ghost-like ribbons and things running through and out the back of them. These tingles grew stronger and my hands looked longer, I saw some bones but different to mine; longer and with the ghost of another thumb.
“Is this your hand?" Holding up my right hand where the sunlight reflected through the ghost part of it.
Yes, keep looking at it. It is making it easier for me now.
My own hand faded but I wasn’t scared now, just interesting. My hand now had six fingers and there was a split between the middle ones. It was like two three finger hands joined at the wrist with see through skin filled with patterns.
The light changed, became more vivid again, I could see around me more. There was something new this time however, I was feeling into things around me, through walls, the floor even the sky above me, a vast emptiness with a single deep burning solid spot in it.
My skin and bones thrummed, the world hummed around me, everything was made of music. “What is all this noise?" I asked
I can’t see all around me with just my eyes, all my wings get in the way. But I make all these sounds and things, Dad says like bats and dolphins. Mom says I use gravity thingies. It’s like superman, we can see through things.
“That is officially cool. We can fly and do X-ray vision? Yay, are we superheroes?" I said, excited again, my changing hand forgotten.
Dad says no; Mom says no and I said that was boring. A fluting sigh in my head. We would get into trouble.
“Oh, it’s still cool though." I said
Explanation Owed
Allen
When Katiya walked back into the kitchen, something had changed. Her eyes were wide, staring, her body jumping, excitement hanging around her like an electric charge. She knew.
“Hello, was it a good flight then?" I said, I never liked lies and waiting this long to tell her had been torture.
“You KNEW!" She came running to me, excitement gave way to tears “You knew I had a Mommy and I was an alien and I can fly and, and …."
I grabbed her, hugged her close. “Yes I knew, but I had to wait until the Katiya inside you came out before I told you."
She cried and cried.
The sobbing slowed, she looked up at me. “Katiya says I do have a Mommy and I can meet her."
“Yes you can, when she comes home, I promise." I said, “What else has Katiya told you?"
“We just flew high in the sky, in clouds and we crashed into the beach and made a hole in the rocks." Rushing on “I fell and then I flew and, Daddy—am I a doofus? Tiya keeps saying “I am."
I laughed, “She’s been with you all along and she likes to tease, a lot, just you wait."
“She’s really cool though, is she going to be in school with me?" She said—she never liked school, it was boring.
“She will but you must promise me—both of you, you can’t change at school, ever?" I said, I’d always worried about this. “There are people who would take you away if they found out."
“Tiya said she would escape with air holes. What are those?" She said, wiping her nose clean, tears having stopped now.
“She will show you if I know her." I said, “But both of you, don’t get caught. You might escape but they can come here and I can’t escape like you."
“OK, Tiya said she won’t get caught." She said.
“Tea time I think, want your favourite again?" I said, pulling out southern fried chicken and fries from the freezer, wanting to leave the discussion until Amay-Lia came back.
“Yes please." She said.
Airholes
Space folding, the mysteries pulling together of two points in three dimensional space connecting them just like folding paper in two then poking a hole through. The vibrations expressed in gravitational tensors by Aktarian ventrali allowed them to communicate with reality in a profound way, they persuaded it to contortion.
Starship Whisperer, Unknown Archives
“Tiya, what is an air hole?" I said
“Mommy says they are folds in space but they don’t look like folds to me. Lemme change and show you." She said
I sat on the floor in my attic room—Dad let me choose my room, it was as big as the whole house, almost. I tried to stop thinking, the way Tiya told me last time. My hands changed first this time, then the colours in the attic went deeper, the darker parts became lighter and I could see round more things. I looked at my toy box, I saw all sides of it at one. The world was a bit bendy now.
The room changed colours and shapes, my body became lighter, my legs lifted off the floor and all these sounds rippled over my skin. This time, I felt/saw through the whole house like a ghost.
“How come I can see through the house so much Tiya?" I said.
“Mom calls these ventrali." She held up one hand and bought the thin transparent ribbons close to my eye. They were fluttering really fast, sometimes bouncing off each other. Music came off them, flickered into my eye and made my head go funny; I could also see something that looked like my eye, except it was all patterns and mazes, as if my eye was made of millions of tiny bits.
“Hey that tickles, what is that? And how can I see my own eye?"
“You can see with the sounds from those ventrali. We’ve got loads more all over." She said, “Anyway, look at this. Want to go to the barn?"
“Sure."
High pitched music ran down my face and wings, the air in front of me rippled a little then opened up, a hole in the air—there was the barn, the other side of it!
We flew forwards and landed in the barn, the music changed and the air hole closed behind me.
“Wow, so we can go anywhere?" I said
“Anywhere that I know already." She said, “I can’t go places that don’t exist though. I tried already—you were reading books that had places I wanted to go, but I couldn’t make the air hole come."
“Oh we can go to school faster though?" I said.
“No, Mom and Dad said we can’t do that, we would get caught." She said
“Dad is worried about us getting caught a lot, why?" I said
“We are the first aliens on Earth and he thinks it will cause trouble." She said, “And Mom, well, she thinks we have to grow up and have a normal life."
“Anyway, I think Mom is coming back—I can hear her."
Low music rumbled through the barn and washed over me, all my wings vibrated in time with it. The barn door opened and a large head covered in blue and purple patterns that kept moving poked through. The sounds running through my body and wings grew stronger, my ventrali now flickering faster.
There you are. Dad says you have both spoken now? I could feel her voice, deeper than Tiya’s, run through my body as I watched the larger ventrali, running down from the sides of her head to the prow of her nose, move so fast they nearly disappear.
Tiya’s own fluting sounds tickled my skin. Yes, we went flying and SHE crashed us but it was ok, she just doofus. It was fun though, she wasn’t too scared.
“I wasn’t scared!"
Was too, it’s ok.
Let’s not argue girls. The large head turned one eye towards me; it was a great jewel, just like Tiya’s but a lot bigger with the patterns that I felt/saw in mine earlier, patterns that whirled and changed as she spoke. She held out one multi-coloured hand
I’m Pleased to meet you again Katiya.
I flew clumsily, to reach out, bumped into her and crunched onto the floor.
Doofus, get up. Tiya laughed.
“Take over then, you know I am only just learning."
Is funny though.
“Mean."
I managed to get up and reached out to shake her hand.
If Katiya hasn’t already told you, I’m your Mom and I’m sorry we haven’t met properly before. We wanted you to grow up before telling you everything.
I didn’t know what to say.
Superhero Landing
Aktarians are noted for not possessing any specific form of weapon. However, their race came about from intention, an intention to explore and travel through the entire medium of reality: multiverse upon multiverse, each filled with universes and in turn, those filled with galaxies upon galaxies. The laws of physics vary vastly between all realms in this grand ultimate cosmos. And when one’s form is expressed in more dimensions than any specific plane of a universe, why then it hints towards the reasons behind an Aktarian’s massive strength and resilience. Besides, making lunch from singularities requires a certain sturdiness, after all that tiny monstrosity is the heart of a black hole.
Starship Whisperer, Unknown Archives
I look in the mirror again and I can see Tiya. Well, some bits of her on my face, she calls them ventrali. They go to my cheeks and nose and are sparkly, pretty. They disappear as I look and the patterns in my eyes, they fade—most of them.
I asked her “Can you come out a little bit again?"
She did a little—it is like a thing from a film, part of her nose and ventrali fade into my face, it is weird to watch myself be two things. It doesn’t hurt me at all, just feels strange.
Hold my hand up, looking at it; I see another thumb, longer with ventrali things on the back of it.
My hands are mega strong, be careful.
“Why?" I said
You won’t know how strong we are when we change a little bit.
“Can I try, go to cliff again, and throw things?"
Mom asked me not to.
“Why not?"
Is because I throw rocks into space a few times.
“Wow, right out into space?" I ask, amazed
Yes, I can hit the moon pretty easy. I can see the flash when I hit it. Mom is worried humans will notice it.
“WOW, so we are like Superman?"
Nah, I can beat him if he was real. And he can’t make air holes!
Look, I show you. Pick up that rock. She was looking at a rock I found on the beach—it was dark grey, rough, heavy. I pick it up and hold it tight.
Ok try crushing it hard as you can. First try on your own, then with me.
I tried, fingers hurt more the more I squeezed.
Now, I help you.
An extra thumb appeared, my hand is different now: two thumbs, one each side of the hand. Then, in the middle of the fingers, is a big split right up to the wrist but no blood, just an opening in there, like a wishbone from a chicken. The skin had lots of colours, not skin coloured at all, full of patterns that kept dancing around.
I try to crush the rock—the fingers and thumbs close-up tight, no pain this time. The rock cracks, cracks more, sand poured out between my fingers. I opened my hand, there are tiny little rocks and rock powder left—it is crushed into little bits. I stared.
“How? How are we this strong?” I said.
Is starships, Mom says it’s cos we can travel to different universes and something about dimensions. We have more dimensions inside us so we have more power.
“Don’t think I really get it.” I said.
It don’t matter, heh go outside, wanna show you summat.
Doing as she suggested, I slipped on some old trainers, my old coat and headed downstairs. Across the yard my Dad was working on our old tractor and didn’t see me, us slipping away towards the cliff.
When we got to the cliff, she stopped me. “Ok, just look down the beach slowly.” I did so, as I did, the light changed turning deeper, the colours shifted and became more real. Every last rock and polished pebble took on a richer lustre, I could see the roughness in the smallest pebble yet we were a mile away from what I was looking at.
“That is incredible. Just incredible.”
Now jump as hard as you can.
My heart skipped as she said this, the cliff was high. Yes, I’d fallen from it before and flew but doing it on purpose?
Just trust me.
“Are we going to change again?” I said, my heart drumming loudly in my chest.
No, I just want to show you something.
I walked back a little then sprinted hard, reached the cliff edge, yelled loudly as I leapt. The jump was higher than I’d ever jumped, we kept going up and up then finally began to fall.
I screamed as we fell faster and faster, “KATIYA!!!”
“HOLD ON!” She fluted back. I felt her shift in my bones, legs, arms and body yet I was still me.
SLAM! CRAAACK!
We hit the ground, landed on a rock, the rock shattered and we stood unhurt except for a slight soreness in my throat from screaming.
“WHAT WAS THAT!?” I yelled, out loud, fortunately no-one was there to hear.
YAY, A superhero landing! It was fun, I always wanted to do that. Her flutings and whistles echoed loudly without apology.
It was fun. There was a crater of sorts round my feet, the rock shattered though I’m sure it should not have normally.
My old shoes were in tatters.
“Um Katiya, can we air hole back home? Just look at what you did to my shoes.” I said.
Oh ok, oops. That was fun though right?
“Yes, but scary. Can we just use wings next time?” I said.
Maybe. Heh.
The Marble
I’m sitting on the beach today, no wings, human though I’ve got her hands now with a few ventrali stretched out over their backs. Mom said we should learn to play simple games with our change and today we are playing.
I watched little streams of sand following my hands as I traced patterns in the air. Like flying rats after the piper, the grains follow my fingers, weaving and twisting in the sunlight, sometimes they slip and fall silently only to rise again—a small glittering haze that soon forms tentacles of sand to re-join the parade of particles dancing and twirling in the breeze.
Tiny flutes of vibrations rise and fall over my hands as I move them around, the same sounds that constantly nudge and capture individual bits of sand.
Let’s make a marble, a present for Daddy.
“How?" I ask.
It is easy. Let me show you in your head.
Images and feelings run through my imagination, showing me how she thinks we can do it.
It is like this each day, sometimes her words change to be feelings of what to do. First I have to gather a great cloud of sand using the vibrations from the ventrali on our hands; then more ventrali appear as I bring my hands together in prayer. As my hands close the sand pulls into a ball, a thick cloud of spinning dancing grains. More sand is streaming from the ground to join the mass in my hands.
Push now, squeeze now, like this and this.
More feelings again and I follow along, the sounds and flutes get louder and higher, the sand ball squeezed smaller and tighter.
The patterns shift and change, becoming more and more like one of the marbles I had in my bag at home. The ball grew smaller, hotter and my hands changed completely into six fingered ship hands. The heat stopped hurting and the sand began to glow.
Push a little more, keep it spinning Kat.
I didn’t mind the nickname.
The glowing ball of sand grew smaller again, the spinning grew stronger, new sand joining it raised dark streaks across its surface. An alien world, spinning, perfectly formed, alight as if alive, in my hands.
Stop now, just hold it in the air till it stops glowing.
We both waited, silently.
Mom poked her head through an air hole in the sky a little bit away from us. Have you figured it out girls?
I looked up, Tiya’s ship hands still mixed with mine.
“Yes Mother, we think so." My voice and her flutes coincide.
The sand ball darkened, cooled and dropped to the sand.
A new marble in green white and blue rested in place.
“A present for Dad." We said
That is pretty! She disappeared as silent as she appeared. Mom is the ultimate sneak.
I put the marble in my pocket and walk home, getting the exercise Dad says I need. Tiya wants to fly everywhere but we have to be very careful: I don’t want to get fat.
We leave the marble on Dad’s desk this time—it’s not perfectly round, it is like a ball that someone sat on, it won’t roll off his desk.
June 2018 - Likely to Cut Dis Stuff! :) {#june-2018—likely-to-cut-dis-stuff!-:)}
Arm Wrestling—unfinished whimsy
School is not always the easiest for Tiya, she can’t always keep quiet. All the boys keep trying to copy how I whistle but can’t. We started big school last year, I’m eleven now and Tiya always wants to win everything.
Dad tells us every day, be careful, be quiet, do what the teachers say. He’s scared we’ll be found out before I finish school. He told me once that he wanted to teach us at home but he didn’t really know how and felt I should learn to be with other people in real life. I have a few friends at school, Tiya hasn’t accidently scared them away yet.
One day at school we saw others playing a new game round the dining room tables. It seemed to involve people staring at each other whilst holding hands tightly on the table. We went to have a look just as a big ginger boy beat this other boy—beating him was making his arm go down to the table.
Tiya wanted a go, but I didn’t. As usual, when it came to fun, Tiya won—she gets excited and won’t shut up. I went to the table and sat opposite the winner. He was huge, nearly a man compared to me, he even had fuzzy stuff under his nose like some men at school have.
“Whoa, new girl, I don’t want to hurt you." He said, half joking.
“I just want to try." I replied, not really wanting to.
“Ok, look, do you know how?" He asked, putting his elbow on the table halfway between us.
I copied him, my arm resting up against his; he slid his thumb so that it was against mine in my hand then closed his large meaty fingers around my slimmer, tiny ones. In my head I said to Tiya, “We can’t make your hands show in mine, we will get into big trouble."
She sulked a little but didn’t argue.
The boy started to push, gently, slowly. “I don’t want to hurt you, I’ll give you a chance but let go when you quit." He said, looking at me, seeing a little girl.
I smiled, “Thank you."
I tried to push but it was impossible, he was a lot stronger than just me. Tiya bridled at this and I could feel my hand start to shift.
“Tiya, don’t let him see."
“He gonna win and I don’t want him to." She whispered in my mind.
“Can’t you help without showing him?"
“Not easy." She replied.
The hand continued to shift yet remained hidden in his. He could feel it though, his eye widened as the hand began to split. I pushed harder and his impossible strength became soft. I thought he let go, however he forgot about the funny wriggling of my bones in his hand as his arm came back over.
He pushed and his face turned tomato, whilst I found it easier and easier to push. “Tiya, that’s enough, everyone will stare at us if we beat him easy!" I said, thinking fast, “We don’t want all the kids watching us."
“Hmmph."
His arm was nearly all the way to the table, his face cherry as he blew hard trying to lift it back up. I stopped pushing and let him come to the top slowly as if he was beating me. Dad is right; we don’t want attention.
“Tiya stop, just stop, we gotta let him win." I said, inside my mind.
“We can win easy." Even in my head, her voice is fluty, squealing a bit.
“Look, remember what Dad said? We have to stay ordinary and maybe make friends."
I could feel her sulking but she finally gave in and my hand hit the table; he won.
Most of the others watching seemed to think he was great for letting me look like I was beating him. We said nothing, I didn’t want to embarrass him, he could become a friend.
I left quickly, hoping most people would forget the little girl who tried to beat the best arm wrestler in the school.
“Tiya, do you know what would have happened if we won?" I said
“We’d be the best ever?" She said
“Maybe, but everyone would know there is something special about us. Remember, Dad said, we gotta stay hidden." I said, hating it but Mom and Dad told us every day, the same thing. “Don’t be special; don’t fly if someone can see you, always watch out for people noticing you."
Sometimes when we do things, I worry we didn’t follow all the rules, but we have been lucky. No one has seen us yet.
There is only one place where we don’t always do everything as Dad wants us to. In gym, we cheat a lot: when we do cross country we’ve made a few of the others jump by appearing from behind a bush, metres from the end of the run; when we do athletics, sometimes we jump too far and once, we lost a discus though no-one saw, I think it’s in orbit somewhere.
TBC 10/01/2025