Chapter 1

I could describe her eyes as exact miniatures of the view of this world from orbit. A world half covered in blue ocean, splashes of white, and the green of land masses. She is trying to teach me their language - or should I say, one of their languages, because there are many. I'm not a natural student of such things, but they have provided us with the latest of their technology. Before me is a touchscreen style computer. I touch on a pictograph of an idea, and it gives me the word, both written and by audio. Andrea, for that is what she's called, then assists me with the proper pronunciation and how one uses the new word in a sentence to convey the context.

I'm easily distracted. Although these people are, on average, shorter than us and have more robust skeletons - or so my Polytech Tvir explained - we are surprisingly similar in appearance. Andrea is definitely female and would be recognized as such on any of our worlds. She is about 25 of their years old and, like everyone else, dressed in military fatigues. She was assigned to me as a language teacher, but, Tvir is certain, she is employed by their security people to ascertain as much as she can. To assist them in this task, they teach me their language so I can be interrogated.

I'm a virtual prisoner, here, although I still have communication with our light ship in orbit. This facility is well out in a particularly arid part of this world, surrounded by forbidding country and, perhaps, thousands of armed soldiers. Normally, war craft are tested here - sub-orbital machines powered by combustion engines that only work with a good supply of oxygen. High fences and security personnel guard this part of the base. I'm being accommodated in a small complex of buildings usually reserved for research. My Privateer has been moved to a building on the other side of this fence, they say, for security reasons. I have sealed it tight, so they will be unable to gain access to it without my codes. Despite their polite requests, I have resisted opening it up for them.

A visiting diplomat - especially a Sector Governor - would be subjected to a great deal more deference on our worlds, but, I have to put myself in their shoes and show some understanding. They are a non-space faring people who have barely travelled further than their single moon. Although they have the technology to travel to neighboring planets and create self-sustaining habitats, they choose to remain rooted to this world, I found this puzzling as, they tell me, there are some 6 billion people crammed onto this planet - perhaps twice as many as all of our 20 inhabited worlds. Such density must create social and political problems as well as being a strain on resources. Perhaps this is why they seem to generally carry personal weapons and have a large military?

These 6 billion people are divided into many clans jealously guarding their territories and coveting others. The computer they have provided can be connected to a global network and I have accessed much information, entertainment shows, and such like to get a sense of how these people get along without slaughtering each other. These I have conveyed up to Tvir, as his Academic and Scientific training would enable him to make more sense out of it. I confess, I can't understand a lot of what I see except that which doesn't require knowledge of the language. Tvir thinks my access to the network is monitored and restricted. It wouldn't surprise me.

Andrea sits behind a clear screen in a room where there is positive air pressure. Above me is an extractor fan and filters, the contents of which, are collected and sent to a lab to be tested for harmful microbes. Hitherto, I seemed to not be carrying anything malicious, nor is there anything on this world my environmental adapter can't find immunity for. Gravity is heavy for a planet of this size - Kvir, believes it has an unusually dense core - and the atmosphere is thick and oxygen rich. My first days were difficult - the oxygen level made me light headed and the heavy gravity tiring - but I adapted quickly.

I am accompanied by at least two armed guards wherever I go. Again, they cite my 'security'. I have been given freedom within the base, however, except where they test their war craft - and where my Privateer is held. My Privateer - purchased on my own account and one of the latest models. That annoys me more than anything. On our worlds it would be unthinkable to seize my property in this fashion, but I must make allowances. They can't gain access, or cut into it, in any case.

Let me divert a little and tell you of the joke Tvir and I share. Our light ship, which of course, cannot be brought down onto the surface, is an old striker, built by the Independents as a warship, but small and obsolete by modern standards. It is a single pod, S-7 class, but the weapons have all been stripped out and the bays stowed with supplies - as well as my Privateer. It is, of course, half the size of their moon because of the power that needs to be generated to achieve faster than light travel. These people would have little idea of that and naturally assume the vessel has the ability to fry many of their cities. On the other hand, the vessel they have in their building, my Privateer, they believe is a mere shuttle, whereas it has a full compliment of beam weapons and projectors sealed into the hull. I have enough firepower to level this whole base if I wish. It is a truth I prefer to keep to myself because, as long as they believe the threat is from orbit, I will not come to harm.

How should I describe social interaction among the people? As I have said, there are some 6 billion of them, so there are many unwritten rules as well as laws to govern the way they relate to each other. When I think about it, it seems inevitable for a chance remark out of place or considered disrespectful, could trigger lethal conflict, mindful of the way they choose to go armed. On the entertainment shows I have been able to access, violence appears to be admired and often ritualized in individual combat for the enjoyment of the public. Their preferred personal weapon appears to be a primitive projectile device using a charge of explosive powder, but they also use blades, cudgels, and whatever it takes to damage an opponent. Such warlike propensities has to be controlled, naturally, and for this, they have numerous unformed security.

Of their mating rituals, I am confused. The information appears to be contradictory, but it's clear the rules are very complex leading to many misunderstandings and lost opportunities. I would like to try out the rituals with Andrea, because she is very attractive, but I'm not sure where to start. As I said, two guards follow me everywhere and there are cameras and sensors in every room. I don't like conducting my affairs in public. Are we sexually compatible? Tvir thinks there is no problem as his genetic comparisons have detected no greater variation as they have among themselves. In all respects, everything is in the same place, performs the same function, and is apparently of similar size compared to that of the people on this planet.

I am a spacer, born and bred. I was born in space to space-faring parents and spent the greater part of my life in confined, artificial environments. As a commercial driver, I traveled alone, as cargo ships very rarely have the cabin room for more than one crew. We get used to our own company or find employment planet side. In fact, old spacers like myself, grow to resent having to deal with other people and go out of our way to avoid them. With the greatest difficulty, I adapted myself to the role of Sector Governor - a position I never sought, but was persuaded to accept for reasons I might care to reveal later in the diary. A Sector Governor is all about dealing with people and enlisting their support. But, my trust is always something others have to work hard to gain.

We spacers are open and direct, even by our standards. Spending so long in space, we have little time for niceties, rituals, and games others find intriguing. We have to seal the deal within the four day window of a ship refit. A long, drawn out courtship is something of a mystery to me. I have tried to get to grips with the local customs through the computer, but they make no sense. How is an expression to be interpreted as an invitation to mate? How does it differ from that of a friend? I really can't be bothered with all of that, so I revert to what I know. You ask and, if the answer's yes, you have a deal. If no, you move onto the next possibility. It's a custom that makes perfect sense to those of our worlds and to me. Anything else is just wasting time.

How should I describe Andrea? As I said earlier, she is around 25 of their years. Their planet rotates faster than 'Centre' and their years are shorter than our 'Centre Standard interval', therefore, she is about 12 or so by our reckoning. Her hair, which she keeps tied back according to the rules of the Military, is dark, nearly black, with a dark blue stripe running from the crown to her shoulder. It's clearly not natural, but, I've learned, coloring the hair is a common practice on this world. Her face is pale and her body slim, by their standards. The ideal 'body type' for women appears to be thin, but, by these exacting standards, she appears more rounded and curvy than these standards dictate. Nevertheless, by our ideals, her body is perfect in every way, given the general shorter, squatter nature dictated by the gravimetric pressure of the planet.

I am hungry after a particularly long language lesson, and I indicate though my computer that I need to eat. She smiles and agrees, and conveys the request to the guards who must follow our every move. We go outside and towards the cafeteria, which is kept open 24/7, as this is a facility of shift workers. We take our little portable touch screens and, accompanied by our armed companions, enter the cafe and peruse the selection of food. I found I like a dish called, 'Real Texas Chili.' It is highly spiced, by their standards, but nothing compared to the combustable material classed as food on the planet Psshkiv. (One of the Independents and, it has to be said, a rite of passage for any spacer) I select this dish and return to a table at the back of the cafe. Our guards choose to eat by themselves on the other side. Apparently, they have been instructed not to have any interaction with me, an order that suits me fine.

Andrea sits beside me. She has selected a dish called 'burger'. It is a conglomeration of rather tasteless material that appears to be a favorite of many. We hold a conversation through our little touch screens. A camera is focussed on the counter, rather than the room. No doubt, it is more interested in the honesty of the kitchen staff rather than those having a meal, but it leaves us alone, and I am pleased. I can feel the warmth of her leg next to mine - it shifts, briefly touches mine and moves away. I think she is oblivious, but I am so ignorant of these 'signals.' Our guards are 'chowing down' and talking between themselves. No doubt it is a most boring duty for them, not that I have much sympathy for their plight.