Complexities of Teaching Alien Birds to Speak English

 Here is an excerpt from The Man Who Found Birds among the Stars, Part Eight: Rare Birds.  This is one of the language sessions that Lt. Avi Oman conducts with the avian Science Officer Pikei.  I need anybody, but especially my friends who are conlangers and linguistic scholars, to read and critique this.  Is it terminally boring? Incorrect? Amusing?  Should I cut it out of the book?  Remember part of my purpose is to show how Earthers would go about learning to communicate with extraterrestrials in a first-contact situation.

While Robbie occupied himself preparing his crew for the next chapter of their lives, the language study was proceeding full tilt.  Avi decided he could no longer put off tackling the perfect tenses, so he said to Pikei, “Today we will learn a new tense – a different tense.”

“A n’yew tense ai↑~,” repeated Pikei with excitement but also slight apprehension.

“Yes!  You can say ‘I walk to the door’ – present tense – and you can say ‘I walked to the door’ and ‘I will walk to the door’ – past tense and future tense; but you can also say, ‘I have walked to the door.’  It is called the present perfect tense.”

She twittered her non-comprehension.

“The present tense of the verb ‘to have’ goes with a different form of another verb.  In this use, ‘to have’ is called an ‘auxiliary’ verb.  Remember, we talked about that when you learned of the use of ‘to do’ in questions and negatives.”

“Heihei, yes!” said Pikei.  “Aug’zelerery ver’b!”

Avi gritted his teeth and ignored the mispronunciation for the moment.  “When ‘to have’ is an auxiliary verb, it does not mean ‘to possess’ – it only makes the following verb a different tense.  You will use the present tense of ‘to have’ and you will put a verb form called a ‘past participle’ after it.”

“‘Pest … parsefep’le’ … ai↑~]” 

“‘Par-ti-ci-ple.’”

“‘Par-te-fep’le.’”  And to the kibitzing Skrov’t, she said, “‘Aug’zelerery’ … ‘parsefep’le’ … This Enge has stranger words than any language I have ever studied!”

Avi was continuing, “With regular verbs like ‘to walk,’ a past participle is the same as the past tense, so it is easy.  You say ‘I walk to the door now’ and you say ‘I walked to the door yesterday’ and you say ‘I will walk to the door tomorrow.’  And you can also say ‘At times in the past I have walked to the door.’”

Avi was despairing about how he was going to explain exactly what this construction implied, but Pikei surprised him by bouncing off her perch, ruffling her feathers, and then hopping back on again.  “Hei, I un’dersten’d!  You mean … Nei ani<↔ ch^ !i hí’ut]  Et means the theng thet you do makes the  … ”  She pecked at her breast in frustration.  “I know not the words to say.  Of !Ka<tá the words are chirronó r♪o<naf.[1]  We put ‘<↔’ efter the p’resent tense!”

Avi was astonished at how quickly Pikei had caught on.  It seemed their language had the same concept, expressed by suffixing a drawn-out whistle to the appropriate verb. 

Pikei was saying, “Es the per’fect tenses to the pest end the f’yuture also?”

“Yes!  You can say, ‘I had walked to the door after he arrived’ – that is past perfect.  And ‘I will have walked to the door before he arrives’ is the future perfect.”

“Pest per’fect – Nei anim<↔ ch^ !i hí’ut oit !id hwomam]  And f’yuture per’fect es Nei oi’ana<↔ ch^ !i hí’ut <uk !id hwoma]  I got et!”

They both cackled and laughed with great pleasure and Pikei warbled enthusiastically to Skrov’t, “♪♫♫  I have wondered if they lacked these subtle semantic variations, although I may have heard this construction used a thousand times and simply didn’t catch it.  This knowledge will make my ability to communicate much more flexible.  But using multiple words – that certainly is an odd and awkward way to form the consequential verb.”

Then to Avi she enthusiastically intoned some examples of her new knowledge.  “‘I heve ate the food now.’  ‘I hed saw them when I was there .’…  Ai↑~]”

Avi was shaking his head.  “No, P.K. – remember, I said the past participle of regular verbs is the same as the past tense.  With irregular verbs the participles have different forms.”

This caused Pikei to again leap from her perch and hop around the room, the feathers flying from her tortured breast.  Skrov’t whooped merrily.  “Ú↔kha, <Wagumát, come back and settle – you’re making a bald spot!  Surely you weren’t expecting it to be that simple!”

Glaring at her companion, Pikei returned to her place.  Avi was saying, “Here is the correct way to speak those sentences:  ‘I have eaten the food now.  I had seen them when I was there.’  But sometimes the participle for an irregular verb is the same as the past tense.  An example is ‘to hear.’  You say ‘I heard you clearly yesterday’ and you also say ‘I have often heard you clearly.’  I will read you a new list of irregular verbs with the past participles added.  You will have to memorize them.  That is the only way to know what the form is.”

The distracted Pikei warbled, “♫♫  ‘Parfeteple!’  ‘Aug’celery!’  Hakhis↓]”

Keeping an admirably straight face, Avi said, “Not ‘aug-celery.’  ‘Celery’ is a vegetable.  I think the Dauntless gave us some – I’ll bring it to show you.”

Later, when Avi was reporting to Robbie on the language progress, he said, “I was really amazed.  She caught on to perfect tenses right away and we quickly moved on to the progressive.”  Noting his Captain’s blank expression, he added, “That’s like, ‘I am speaking to you’ or ‘I am walking to the door.’”

“Oh, yeah, I would have known that if I would just think!”

“So that meant I had to introduce her to the present ‘parsifipple.’”

Robbie guffawed.  “Is that how she pronounces it?”

“That and half a dozen other ways!  I shouldn’t make fun of her – I mean, we can’t say anything right in their language – but it can be amusing.  It’s all I can do sometimes to keep from laughing out loud, Captain.”

“I can empathize with that!”

“Their language also has the progressive concept, and they do use a sort of an auxiliary verb for that, or maybe it should be called an indicator.  They stick the word nok with a high-pitched whistle in front of it after the verb.  I would like to know why they do it that way.[2]  In fact, it would be really fascinating to study the etymology and syntax of their language even though we may never be able to speak it.”

“Well, you’re just the boy to do that!”

“Oh, no, I’m a rank amateur, Captain!  If I had known that being a Com Officer meant I’d have to teach somebody else the rudiments of Inge, I’d have taken more linguistics courses!  You really need to be a Professor Specialist in the field to do the work justice!”

“You know what?  In my little communiqué to Pres. Sarkisian, I suggested that they form a task force to deal with this first-contact situation, and two people I recommended they recruit were a Professor of anthropology and a Professor of linguistics.”

“Oh, that’s terrific, sir!  That showed great foresight!”

“If you can find the time, you ought to work up a little treatise on what the Birds know and how you’ve taught them – help out the expert who takes over the study.”

Avi nodded.  “I thought of that myself, Captain.  I’ve made a rough beginning.”

[1] Consequential verb, a term comparable to the proper definition of the perfect tense or aspect in Inge.

[2] The progressive indicator <&nok is related to the verb khenokí’a (to act or to carry out).  An example in !Ka<tá would be Vral nei ni’afim <&nok | ♫vei ♫hwomam <&nok] (When I was leaving, they were arriving).

What a Difference Thirty Years Makes!

Tentative cover for Part I of MWFB
I have no artwork for Children
of the Music yet.

I'm in the process of formatting The Man Who Found Birds among the Stars for publication, and at the same time I'm scanning into the computer my early piece called Children of the Music. Yesterday I worked on MWFB in the morning and then scanned and edited another chapter of Children in the afternoon.

Viewing both books in such close succession caused me to be impressed by how my style has changed. Children was written in the late 1970s and MWFB was written somewhere between 2006 and 2010, after I had written the termite books. In the late '70s I was still under the influence of Tolkien -- heroic fantasy was the order of the day. Children is laid in an imaginary world with two races of humans who exist at a level of technology that is fairly primitive, agricultural or pastoral in nature. My style at times verges on the grandiose, and I use a lot of description of setting (I was impressed by how successful these descriptions turned out to be). By 2006 I was definitely a realist, writing about the future of Earth. This started in The Termite Queen and persists into MWFB.

And yet I feel both styles are equally effective for the purpose intended. In fact, I was impressed by the chapter of Children that I worked on yesterday. It depicts the invasion of a pastoral people by a horde of "barbarians" and it stirred me emotionally, which is a good sign. (It's been more than thirty years since I read the manuscript.) It has a feel of both high fantasy and realism.  And I consider the straightforward narrative technique of MWFB to be equally compelling. I'm going to give you an example from each book so you can compare them.

From Children of the Music:

The good weather held, with a flawless blue sky above their heads and a dry northwest wind from the mountains that blew briskly down the neck and whipped the long manes across the horses’ eyes.  At night the cold sharpened, but the days warmed enough to have made life pleasant if only the wind could have dropped.  In the early morning the east was hazed with river mist, but elsewhere and at other times the air was like crystal.  Always the white bluffs barred the west, drawing closer as the caravan progressed southward, and in their breaks the Epanishai could see the ruffled horizon of dark silver mountains. 

In his impatience Daborno pushed the caravan faster than usual, only to suffer on the morning of the fourth day a broken axle on one of the oldest wagons.  After heated contention with the wagon’s family, he ordered it to be abandoned.  “We haven’t time to repair it, by the god of this world!  Where do we get seasoned ash for an axle, tell me that?  What do I care if this wain was made in the south?  Load your goods on the oxen, curse it!  Disperse them among the other vans!  Sirrah, I don’t suggest – I command!  Get this line moving, you snails’ spawn!  “

“What’s the rush, Daborno?” asked Leftis irritably, when they were underway again. 

The Chieftain glanced darkly at Rashemia and made no reply.  Leftis followed his eyes and did not repeat the question.  The High Codian had uncharacteristically taken no part in the altercation and now she rode three or four paces ahead of them, head held high, face pale and eyes farseeing – hoodless, with the wind tearing at loose strands of her hair.  The sight of her imperious otherness made Daborno quake with apprehension.  So they rode, past midday, into the afternoon. 

Suddenly, in a silence of weariness, a low cry came from Rashemia’s throat.  She drove her heels into the brown gelding’s flanks and dashed toward a long, sere brake of alder and birch that seemed to mark the line of a dry watercourse.  After a moment’s hesitation Daborno spurred after her, with Leftis and his wife not far behind. 

The Chieftain crashed through the brush and reined up beside Rashemia, rising in the stirrups to look where her hand pointed.  Before them lay hay fields, with neat, round ricks ready for winter.  Some eight furlongs beyond, in the valley of a lucent silver stream, was a shepherd village surrounded by its frail palisade, its flocks scattered over the slightly rising ground to east and west. 

Along the bluffs not half a league from the village, the woodland of bare birches and hazel thickened, punctuated by the brilliant darkness of cedars.  Amidst the white and gray hatching of the trees, against the chalk brightness of the bluffs, an indistinct lattice of heavy, black shapes teased the eye. 

It was into that distance that Rashemia’s sight strained, but Daborno’s was nailed southward, on the broad, bare knob of land that rose beyond the stream. 

“Aftran.  Aftran!  Rashemia!  Is this it?” He clawed at her arm, her horse’s mane, its reins, half beside himself. 

“Yes.”  The confirmation came, blunt, toneless, crushing down the emotion. 

“Aftran!  Aftran!  We are here!” The words roared from Dabornos throat as he pivoted his astonished stallion.  Then the rowels were buried in the beast’s side and it leaped forward, streaking across the fields, with the other three behind. 

On the north side of the brake, the caravan heard and there were whoops and war cries of disbelief, of elation, of ecstasy.  Everyone who was mounted coursed through the trees and followed the Chieftain.  The drovers screamed at their cattle, stampeding them into the brush; the wagoners beat the oxen with their goads, heaved the wains with shoulder and hip and hand, slashed at the trees with axes to clear a path – shrieking, weeping with frustration at being left behind – abandoning the more hopelessly wedged vehicles to pound on foot after their lord. 

Through the fields east of the village the ragged line of riders and wagons hurtled, hoofs shaking the earth, cloaks flying in the wind, the bound hair of women loosening and streaming behind like black banners.  The wild yelling scraped across the ancient, sunlit air, raw and terrifying as the music of an untuned viol.  The foremost horsemen dashed helter-skelter through the stream; the drovers and the wagoners gave up their charges on the north side and forded on foot; every human creature of the Axe and Owl beat their way up the slopes of the round, bald hill. 

The cavalcade had passed not two furlongs from the easternmost flocks, paying no attention to the two shepherds who rose up with fright on their faces, stared momentarily upon the careering wildmen, then turned and sprinted toward the village to the west.  

Now here is a scene from The Man Who Found Birds among the Stars (a little background   will help: The SkyPiercer Project, flying a starship beyond the solar system for first time, has just been made public.  Robbin Nikalishin, who is to pilot that mission, feels compelled to call his mother after this revelation.  His relationship with her is strained and difficult, owing to a dire misunderstanding that took place during his adolescence):

Robbie called his mother when Kolm wasn’t there, because he knew his public charm would vanish the minute he had her on the link.  When she came on, she said immediately, “Congratulations, son.  I know this is what you always wanted.  You made it happen.  Like you said in the news conference, you saw the stars and you never let anything stand in your way.”

“That’s – not exactly what I said, Mother.”

“Well, it’s the truth, isn’t it?”

There was a silence.  Then Sterling said, “Are they going to give you any leave before you fly in August?”

“I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think so.  I don’t think they want us having open contact with the public.”

“So … you won’t be able to come home then … ”

“Probably not.  I’m – sorry … ”

He heard a sound at the other end that he couldn’t identify.  “Mother?”

“What if you get killed?” she said harshly.  “You could, I’m quite sure.”

“Mother, a person can walk out the door and fall down stairs and get killed.”

“Don’t give me that trite old probability crap!” she retorted sharply.  “The chances are much greater of dying in what you’re doing and you know it!”

He made no answer, clutching the side of his head, feeling paralyzed of will.  Then he said, “Mother … how can you … really want to … keep seeing me … after all that has … ”  His voice petered out.

It was her turn to be silent.  Finally she snapped out, “I want to wish you a lot of luck, son.  I’m gratified that you’re accomplishing your dreams.  It makes all my hard work and sacrifice worthwhile.  I only hope the rewards you reap will be as great as you think they will.  And just in case something does happen to you out there, I’m going to say ‘Goodbye’ and I suggest you do the same.  You may never find the time to ring me up again before you go and it would be a shame for a son to die without having said goodbye to his mother.”

“God almighty … ” said Robbie in utter misery. 

“Goodbye, son,” said Sterling.  “Say it!  Say ‘Goodbye’ to me.”

“No, I won’t!  I won’t say goodbye …  Dammit, I’m not going to die, Mother!”

But she had cut the connection.  Robbie stood for a moment clutching the com piece, and then he turned and threw it as hard as he could across the room.

When Kolm tapped on his door later that afternoon, Robbie didn’t answer.  Alarmed, Kolm banged harder.  “Robbie, are ye in there?”

“ … ’s not locked … ”

Kolm opened the door and came to a dismayed stop.  “Holy cry, man, what are ye doing?’

“Working really hard … at getting rotten drunk … ”

“Damnation.”  Kolm hastily closed the door.  “Where’d ye get that bottle?”

“Over at … Base Exchange.  … sell the stuff, you know … ”

“Ye walked right in and bought it, afore god and everybody?  What if somebody reports you to Lara or to Teeter?”

“Yeah, I walked right in … could do it then.  Don’t much know if I could do that at the moment … ”

Kolm went to where Robbie was sprawled on the couch and jerked the whisky bottle out of his hands.  “Whatever in Mairin’s name provoked ye to break training like this?”

“They have no right … tell us we can’t drink.  Sometimes a man has to do something … sometimes there are things … a man can’t stand … ”  Robbie squeezed his eyes shut, his face contorting.

Kolm knelt beside his friend.  “Robbie, did ye ring up yer mother?”

Robbie twitched his head.

“Man, this is the worst.”

“That’s right.  The worst.  Goody, I’m never calling her again … don’t care what you say to me.  I can’t stand it.  I hope I never talk to her again … never see her the rest of my life.”

Kolm took Robbie’s head hard between his hands.  “Robbie, I don’t understand, but I feel terrible bad for ye.  If it takes such a radical thing to keep ye from goin’ to pieces like this, I guess I’d have to say I’m for it.  But it’s a terrible sad thing and I wish I understood about it, but I know I never can and that’s all right.  Now, are ye just gonna lie there, or are ye going to get up and let me pour some coffee down ye?  It’s for sure that ye’ve got to be over this by tomorrow mornin’, or the jig’s up.”

And so Kolm was able to pull Robbie together and no one was ever the wiser about his lapse.  But Kolm remained on guard, and if Robbie got particularly moody or seemed to be withdrawing into himself, Kolm made a special effort to stay close at hand.  Robbie knew this and was deeply grateful.  He understood all too well that the masonry on which his character was founded was not the most stable and he relied heavily on his friend to be his keystone.

So do you like one better than the other?

Or do you like them both?

A 28th-Century Christmas in Ireland

Wearing his "Mairin and Jaysus"
medal.  The drawing could use a
little retouching, I think.

I'm preparing my WIP, The Man Who Found Birds among the Stars, Part 1, for publication. Some of you may remember that it's a fictionalized biography of Robbin Haysus Nikalishin, the starship Captain who made the first contact with extraterrestrial intelligent life in the 28th century  As a child attending the Epping Science Academy in the Islands of Britan, he became close friends with a fellow student,  who hailed from Eira, as Ireland is called in that period.  Kolm's home is an agricultural co-op not far from Wicklo, and when Robbie was 17 years old, he went home with his Eirish friend Kolm MaGilligoody, to spend the Midwinter Holiday on his family's farm near Wicklo.  I published this excerpt once before, but I thought it would be appropriate to republish the post.  (I've added a drawing of Kolm MaGilligoody that I made a long time ago.  I don't think I've published it before.)

       Some of you may also remember that in my future history, Earth has banned the open practice of religion because of the evils that dogmatic religious institutions have perpetrated over the millennia.  However, remnant groups of several different ancient religions have persisted and are tolerated as long as they keep a low profile, do not proselytize, and do not form organized entities dedicated to the promotion of their beliefs.  The Remnant Romishers in Eira are one such group.  Parenthetically, Robbie's middle name, Haysus, is an anglification of the Spainish Jesus, so he is always curious about the linking of the name to a god.

       Here is the excerpt from Chapter 9: Robbie's First Visit to Eira.

       Robbie had never heard of anything like the Eirish Midwinter festivity; his knowledge of the Romish religion came solely from a brief exposition in one of Prf. Doone’s classes.  Kolm’s father explained that the celebration took place on the solstice and incorporated elements from what ancient Romish worshipers had called “Krismess.”  The MaGilligoodys set up an array of little figurines in a cave-like setting; they called it a “kraytch.”  There was a woman in a blue gown with sparkly trim on it, a baby lying in a cradle, and a man standing beside them.  From the top of the cave projected a wire with a star on it, something like the star on Robbie’s space plane. Sheep and donkeys and (mystifyingly) a camel were arrayed around, and winged fairies were stuck up on the wall behind.  Facing this tableau were two men dressed in bright robes, holding out a box and a vial. 

       Kolm said, “There are supposed to be three of those, but last year one of ’em disappeared.  I think maybe one of the cats got holt of it and carried it off.”

       “What’s it represent?” asked Robbie, watching Kolm’s Grammy lighting fat beeswax candles at each end of the scene.

       “It’s the birth of that god-man Jaysus that’s on me medal,” said Kolm.  “That’s his mother Mairin watchin’ over him.  He was supposed to have been born this time of the year – that’s what we’re celebratin’.”

       “Who’s the man?  I thought you said he didn’t have a father.”

       “It’s his foster father, name of Josef.  Mairin was married to him, ’cause that was back in the days when women had to have men to look after them.”

       “What’s the star for?”

       “They say it burst out bright in the sky at Jaysus’s birth.  Probably a supernova, you know, if it ever really happened a-tall.  And the family was so poor that the babby was birthed in a barn, and yet this star set up right atop it.  Those chaps in the robes – they call ’em Wise Men – Professors, most likely … they got its coordinates and brought fancy gifts to Jaysus to show they recognized he was a god.  It’s supposed to have happened somewhere at the east end of the Mediterrian, where it’s all a Devastation Zone now.  A pretty tale, it is.”

       “And you Eirish really worship this god?” asked Robbie, looking at Kolm’s father.

       “Oh, I don’t know that I’d call it worship, lad,” Mat MaGilligoody said.  “But we Eirish tend to be a superstitious lot.  If it’s not gods, it’s fairies, ye know.  Two of those even got hooked up in this tale, ye can see there.  It’s just part of our tradition to do these here things at Midwinter – a nice, peaceful way of celebratin’.”

       Robbie found it totally bizarre, but nevertheless he stood looking at the baby and at the mother and at the star, unable to interpret the emotions stirring within him.

       On the solstice they had a big feast (the main course was goose, which made Robbie a little uncomfortable, afraid he was eating the one whose acquaintance he had made) and then they sang traditional songs.  Some were in an ancient tongue whose meaning was unknown even to the MaGilligoodys, but one was in an archaic dialect of Inge. 

Silent night, holy night ...
       All is calm, and all is bright
       Around the virgin mother and child –
       Holy infant, all tender, all mild …
       May they sleep in a haven of peace …
       Sleep in a haven of peace …

 Robbie thought he had never heard a song so tranquil and so moving.  “That mother and child – that’s your Mairin and Jaysus?” he asked.
       “Right.  The same as is in the kraytch,” said Mat.
       “I can’t help being a little surprised.  I thought the ancient religions were supposed to be violent and evil.  This doesn’t seem that way.”
       And Kolm’s mother said, “I’ve an idea, friend of me son, that none of them was violent in its heart.  I think it’s the hearts of humans that misunderstood the Right Way and made ’em so.”
       Later in the evening, Kolm played a tin whistle, a talent Robbie hadn’t known he possessed, and Kolm’s father played a grotesque musical instrument where the air was forced through a bag.  They told ancient Eirish stories that included tragic romances between humans and fairy folk, and they drank mulled ale; it was not Robbie’s first taste of alcohol, but it was his first time to drink a little more than was wise.  The next morning he was privileged to experience his first hangover.
       When the time came to return to school, the boys treated themselves to a sea journey – taking an excursion boat across Sainjorge’s Channel instead of catching a wing hopper.  The craft was operated by Gwidian Tours, the enterprise of an old family of seafarers from Kardif.  It was yet another first for Robbie – his first time to bob on the waters of the sea.  He got a bit queasy, but it excited him tremendously, and he hated to see the trip end.
       “Ye’re kinda quiet, lad,” said Kolm, as they neared the harbor.  “What are ye thinking about?”
       “I’m thinking that I envy you, Goody,” Robbie replied.  “I didn’t know – I couldn’t have realized – how happy people could be … with a family like yours … ”
       Kolm clapped him on the shoulder.  “Well, ye do seem to have had a bit of a rough time in yer life, friend of mine.  But ye’re welcome in my family.  Ye’re welcome to come back and soil yer boots in the goose shit as often as ye like!”

I HOPE ALL OF YOU HAVE

 A VERY MERRY "KRISMESS"

AND A NEW YEAR

FULL OF YOUR HEARTS' DESIRES!

Christmas in Ireland, 28th-century style

Farmland and View of Wicklow Town
From Wikipedia Creative Commons, copyright David Quinn 

       My WIP, The Man Who Found Birds among the Stars, is a fictionalized biography of Robbin Haysus Nikalishin, the starship Captain who made the first contact with extraterrestrial intelligent life in the 28th century  As a child attending the Epping Science Academy in the Islands of Britan, he became close friends with a fellow student, Kolm Magilligoody, who hailed from Eira, as Ireland is called in that period.  Kolm's home is an agricultural co-op not far from Wicklo, and when Robbie was 17 years old, he went home with his friend to spend the Midwinter Holiday.

       Many of you will remember that in my future history, Earth has banned the open practice of religion because of the evils that dogmatic religious institutions have perpetrated over the millennia.  However, remnant groups of several different ancient religions have persisted and are tolerated as long as they keep a low profile, do not proselytize, and do not form organized entities dedicated to the promotion of their beliefs.  The Remnant Romishers in Eira are one such group and Kolm came out of this culture.  Parenthetically, Robbie's middle name, Haysus, is an anglification of the Spainish Jesus, so he is always curious about the linking of the name to a god.

 

       Here is an excerpt from Chapter 9: Robbie's First Visit to Eira.

 

       Robbie had never heard of anything like the Eirish Midwinter festivity; his knowledge of the Romish religion came solely from a brief exposition in one of Prf. Doone’s classes.  Kolm’s father explained that the celebration took place on the solstice and incorporated elements from what ancient Romish worshipers had called “Krismess.”  The MaGilligoodys set up an array of little figurines in a cave-like setting; they called it a “kraytch.”  There was a woman in a blue gown with sparkly trim on it, a baby lying in a cradle, and a man standing beside them.  From the top of the cave projected a wire with a star on it, something like the star on Robbie’s space plane.  Sheep and donkeys and (mystifyingly) a camel were arrayed around, and winged fairies were stuck up on the wall behind.  Facing this tableau were two men dressed in bright robes, holding out a box and a vial. 

       Kolm said, “There are supposed to be three of those, but last year one of ’em disappeared.  I think maybe one of the cats got holt of it and carried it off.”

       “What’s it represent?” asked Robbie, watching Kolm’s Grammy lighting fat beeswax candles at each end of the scene.

       “It’s the birth of that god-man Jaysus that’s on me medal,” said Kolm.  “That’s his mother Mairin watchin’ over him.  He was supposed to have been born this time of the year – that’s what we’re celebratin’.”

       “Who’s the man?  I thought you said he didn’t have a father.”

       “It’s his foster father, name of Josef.  Mairin was married to him, ’cause that was back in the days when women had to have men to look after them.”

       “What’s the star for?”

       “They say it burst out bright in the sky at Jaysus’s birth.  Probably a supernova, you know, if it ever really happened a-tall.  And the family was so poor that the babby was birthed in a barn, and yet this star set up right atop it.  Those chaps in the robes – they call ’em Wise Men – Professors, most likely … they got its coordinates and brought fancy gifts to Jaysus to show they recognized he was a god.  It’s supposed to have happened somewhere at the east end of the Mediterrian, where it’s all a Devastation Zone now.  A pretty tale, it is.”

       “And you Eirish really worship this god?” asked Robbie, looking at Kolm’s father.

       “Oh, I don’t know that I’d call it worship, lad,” Mat MaGilligoody said.  “But we Eirish tend to be a superstitious lot.  If it’s not gods, it’s fairies, ye know.  Two of those even got hooked up in this tale, ye can see there.  It’s just part of our tradition to do these here things at Midwinter – a nice, peaceful way of celebratin’.”

       Robbie found it totally bizarre, but nevertheless he stood looking at the baby and at the mother and at the star, unable to interpret the emotions stirring within him.

       On the solstice they had a big feast (the main course was goose, which made Robbie a little uncomfortable, afraid he was eating the one whose acquaintance he had made) and then they sang traditional songs.  Some were in an ancient tongue whose meaning was unknown even to the MaGilligoodys, but one was in an archaic dialect of Inge. 

Silent night, holy night ...
       All is calm, and all is bright
       Around the virgin mother and child –
       Holy infant, all tender, all mild …
       May they sleep in a haven of peace …
       Sleep in a haven of peace …

 Robbie thought he had never heard a song so tranquil and so moving.  “That mother and child – that’s your Mairin and Jaysus?” he asked.
       “Right.  The same as is in the kraytch,” said Mat.
       “I can’t help being a little surprised.  I thought the ancient religions were supposed to be violent and evil.  This doesn’t seem that way.”
       And Kolm’s mother said, “I’ve an idea, friend of me son, that none of them was violent in its heart.  I think it’s the hearts of humans that misunderstood the Right Way and made ’em so.”
       Later in the evening, Kolm played a tin whistle, a talent Robbie hadn’t known he possessed, and Kolm’s father played a grotesque musical instrument where the air was forced through a bag.  They told ancient Eirish stories about vanishing cities and wandering lights and they drank mulled ale; it was not Robbie’s first taste of alcohol, but it was his first time to drink a little more than was wise.  The next morning he was privileged to experience his first hangover.
       When the time came to return to school, the boys treated themselves to a sea journey – taking an excursion boat across Sainjorge’s Channel instead of catching a wing hopper.  The craft was operated by Gwidian Tours, the enterprise of an old family of seafarers from Kardif.  It was yet another first for Robbie – his first time to bob on the waters of the sea.  He got a bit queasy, but it excited him tremendously, and he hated to see the trip end.
       “Ye’re kinda quiet, lad,” said Kolm, as they neared the harbor.  “What are ye thinking about?”
       “I’m thinking that I envy you, Goody,” Robbie replied.  “I didn’t know – I couldn’t have realized – how happy people could be … with a family like yours … ”
       Kolm clapped him on the shoulder.  “Well, ye do seem to have had a bit of a rough time in yer life, friend of mine.  But ye’re welcome in my family.  Ye’re welcome to come back and soil yer boots in the goose shit as often as ye like!”

I HOPE ALL OF YOU HAVE

 A VERY MERRY "KRISMESS"

AND A NEW YEAR

FULL OF YOUR HEARTS' DESIRES!

 

 

BONUS excerpt from The Man Who Found Birds among the Stars!

       I announced that I wasn't going to post any more chapters from MWFB (I remind you I'm revising it for publication), but I decided to extract this piece from Chapter 38 because it would be possible to reduce what is said here to one or two paragraphs of summation.  But I just can't do it because the scene is lively and revelatory not only in advancing the plot but in displaying character, and moreover it has a lot of humor.  At the end I'll put a summation.  Tell me which one you enjoy reading more.  (And if you say, the summation, I probably still won't change it!)  Don't worry -- this doesn't spoil any of the essential story.  To set the scene, Capt. Robbin Nikalishin (now 30 years old and a genuine hero of Earth) has just taken a jaunt to view the Great Koloredo Canyon in Aridzone.  His life-long friend Kolm MaGilligoody (now Robbie's Engineer on the interstellar ship the Darter) has been visiting his home in Eira.  The spacefarers meet in the lunch bar at the Herinen Space Port where they are stationed.

Chapter 38 ...

June-August 2760

       Two days later Robbie was emerging from the lunch bar at the Research Facility when he bumped into Kolm.

       “Oh, there ye be!” exclaimed the Eirishman.  “Greetin’s, lad!”

       “Well, when did you get back?  I wasn’t expecting you till at least the end of June!”

       “I finished me essential business, and I figured ye must be dyin’ without me company, so I returned.  No, actually, I got off the flyer 30 minutes ago.  I was famished, so I just dropped off me gear, banged on the door of yer empty room, and then hot-footed it over here to get lunch.”

       “I just ate, but I’ll have some coffee and sit with you, if you’ll have me."

       Kolm picked up some crusty fried farm catfish, a big bowl of potato and chive soup, a couple of rolls with soy spread, and a slice of blueberry tart, and headed for a table with Robbie trailing after him.

       “Holy grief, Kolm, how can you eat all that heavy stuff and stay so fit?”

       “Well, I had me breakfast in Lunden and no lunch, so seein’ as how the flight left at 1100h and lasted some eight hours, me stomach says it’s near 2100 and past the hour of dinner.  Blame it on the spinnin’ of the planet.”

       Amused, Robbie watched his friend wolfing down his meal.  “So, how were the Islands and the girls that live in ’em?”

       “Green.  The Islands, not the girls, although one special lass does have the greenest eyes.  But I got somethin’ else to tell ye first.  When I first landed at Old Heathero, I went up to Oxkam before I headed to Eira.  Actually, I stopped off to see Wilda, too.  She sends ye her love.  She was a bit miffed, though.  ‘Ye mean,’ she said, ‘Capt. Robbie prefers to look at big rocks and holes in the ground over me?’”

       “So – how did you excuse me?”

       “I told her I was sure yer conscience was bothering ye every minute ye spent in that infernal land, and that ye’d call her up and make yer apologies the very minute ye got back.”

       “Well, if you wanted to make me feel guilty, you’re doing it.”  In fact Robbie had thought about Wilda early in his trek, but since he had met Fedaylia High Feather, his first love had departed from his mind.  And while it had been a relief to escape visiting his mother this go ’round, that shirking of duty had bothered him enough that he hadn’t even called to tell her he would be away from Herinen.

       Kolm was observing him reflectively.  Then he said, “Wilda’s gone back to work.”

       “Really?  May is only a year old.  She waited until the boys were three.”

       “She said with another mouth to feed, money’s tight.  Besides, she said, how could she become a legend at Sloe if she isn’t workin’?  They had agreed to use temps and hold the job for her and she felt she couldn’t ask ’em to hold it much longer.”

       “So what does she do with May?” said Robbie.

       “Her Mum and Da have moved to Watferd.  Mr. Mull’s retired from the concrete crew now and they thought they’d like to live nearer to their daughter.  So Ms. Mull comes over and watches the little ’un home or takes her home with her.  Works real well, Wilda says.”

       Robbie pondered this glimpse of how families cope; it seemed alien to him.

       “So what was I talkin’ about afore I got onto Wilda?” said Kolm, with his mouth full.  ”Oh, yeh – I went to see Prf. Flournoi.  I don’t think we’ll ever get him back this time, Robbie.  He thinks we have enough trained people in the program now and he can make a more valuable contribution teachin’ at Oxkam.”

       “He’s probably right.”

       “I told him about this creeping-jump fixation of the Board and I showed him Prf. Eiginsh’s new mathematical models and some of the virtual engine designs based on ’em.  He seemed a bit bemused by it all.  He thinks some of those anomalies in Eiginsh’s formulas are more significant than any of us thought.  He even pointed out some flaws that none of us noticed.  I don’t think even Lara noticed ’em.”

       “Really?  I’d like to review that.  Lara will want to, too.”

       “Yeh, but I don’t want to get Eiginsh in trouble.”

       “How can it get him in trouble?  If there are problems with his models that would translate into fatal errors in the designs, it would benefit everybody to expose them.  This is difficult stuff.  Even the best of us can make mistakes.”

       “Well, ’course.  It’s just that I never knew Karl Eiginsh to make serious mistakes.”

       The two spacefarers sat in silent thought for a moment, and then Kolm said, “What’s been goin’ on here, regardin’ the Board and all?”

       “Actually, nothing.  I could have stayed away longer.  Adm. Hurtline’s gone home to the Chemical Capital of the Plains, and Prf. Lara’s in Moska and Yang is in Edmunten and Glencrosse is up in Mitchican and so on and so on.  Only Eiginsh is here.  I was sort of surprised when he told me he wasn’t going home this year.”

       “Huh.  Maybe he knows somethin’ is wrong with his formulas and he wants some time to work on ’em without bein’ hassled.”

       “Maybe.”

       “So how was the western world?”

       “Wonderful.  You’ve never seen anything like those mountains, Kolm.  And the Big Canyon – goddam, it’s humbling!  I finally saw a condor on my last afternoon.  And I saw hummingbirds!  I even shot some vids of them, although the images aren’t very good.  I never can hold the damn cam steady, and I get blurry pictures even with autofocus.”

       Kolm was chuckling.  “It’s yer mother’s plumbin’ all over again, Robbie.”

       “Yeah, I deserve to be laughed at, brother!  But, Kolm, I have to tell you this!  Right at the end there, I met this girl.”

       “Uh, oh.  Why am I not surprised?  So what’s her name?”

       Robbie told Kolm all about Fedaylia.  “Honest to god, Goody, she’s the most unusual girl I’ve ever met.  She’s tall – maybe a couple of centimeters taller than I am … ”

       “I thought ye didn’t care for tall girls.”

       “What gave you that idea?”

       “Well, I was just jumpin’ to a conclusion …  Wilda and Sushmita were both short and I can’t recall ye ever involvin’ yeself with a tall girl.”

       “You’ll just have to unjump your conclusion, then, because I felt very involved with this one.  She’s amazingly beautiful, in this unusual sort of way.  It’s just – the way she moves … the timber of her voice … her hair … Kolm, her perfume … well, I just can’t describe it!  And her eyes – she’s got eyes like amber … no, like smoky quartz … no, that just doesn’t do them justice … ”

       “Jaysus, it sounds like her arrow hit ye square on.”

       “Oh, it did.  But I’ll never see her again, probably.  We didn’t arrange to stay in touch.”

       “Where’s she from?”

       “She was born up north of New Washinten, in a precinct called Daymoin.  Her parents split when she was about six, she said, and she grew up with her father.  But he was a rail inspector and was gone a lot, so she kept getting shuffled around among relatives, on both sides of her family.  Must have been hard for her.  But she seems to have turned out perfect.  Kolm, she’s a Prov-En at Castle Bluff Flight Academy.  She’s going to be a Com Officer.  Isn’t that strange?  I seem to have this thing for Com Officers.”

       “Huh.  Yeh, a bit.”

       “You know what I’m thinking?  I’m thinking, maybe I can pull some strings – get her assigned to Herinen after she gets her commission.  Maybe I can even get her on the Darter …”

       “Now, Robbie, don’t mess up yer professional standards.  Pilar is a fine Com Officer – what excuse would ye use to transfer her?  And ye don’t really even know this girl.  Ye spent, ye say, one day together?  Did the two of ye go to bed?”

       “No, she refused.  Said she didn’t know me well enough yet.  That didn’t make me very happy at the time, but I kind of admire her for it – women are always itching to jump in bed with me just because of who I am.  But she seemed really pleased to have met me, and she laid a very heavy kiss on me as we were saying good night.”

       “Really?  Ye say she kissed you?”

       “Yes,she initiated it.  And … well, it was different from any kiss I’ve ever experienced.”  He touched his finger to his lip, which still had a welt on the inside three days later.

       “So you think she’s sweet, do ye?”

       Robbie laughed.  “Sweet?  Well, I don’t think I would describe her quite that way.  Sushmita was sweet.  Fedaylia is more – volcanic … ”

       “Volcanic!  Holy cry, Robbie, the last thing ye need in yer life right now is a volcano in yer bed!  Maybe it’s a good thing she’s not to hand!  Give ye a chance to cool down a bit!”

       Robbie was laughing more heartily, his eyes crinkling.  “Goody, you may be right!  I think it’s too late, though.  I think Fedaylia High Feather may just be the woman I’ve looked for all my life.”

       “Aliluya … I guess.”  Kolm was scratching his nose, in a gesture that meant he was concerned.  Then he said, “Do ye think ye can simmer down for a minute and listen whilst I say somethin’ about me and Dana?”

       “What?”

       “We set the date, Robbie me boy.  I convinced Dana we ought to get married and we’re gonna do it.  Holy cry, man, don’t drop yer jaw like that – a bug’ll fly in yer mouth.  Why should that be so unexpected?”

       “Well … well … it isn’t really …   So … when … ?”

       Now Kolm was laughing.  “Ye really should see yeself.  But the date is the 20th of August.  I knew it had to be during this unexpected extra-long break we’re gettin’, because who knows when they’ll let us go again?  But me Mum nearly had a coronary – ‘Mairin, Mairin save us!  Only two months to get ready!’ she’s a-wailin’.  ‘And meself it is that has to do the work alone, for the bride as well as the groom, seein’s how Dana has no family alive … !’  And me Da’s goin’ on as to how, what did she mean, alone – wasn’t he still part of the family?  Did she think he was just gonna sit on his duff the whole time and do nothin’?  And me sisters shriekin’ and going berserk …  That’s why I said me essential business was finished – I thought I’d best go away and leave the women to work.  Honestly, Robbie, be glad ye don’t come from an Eirish family!”

       Robbie was laughing again, but he felt a little shaky inside.  “So … so … where will you live after … after … ?”

       “She’s gonna stay on her farm and I’m gonna stay in SkyPiercer, like I told ye, until we’ve gone to a star and come back.  It’s not right for me to jeopardize the program by droppin’ out sudden-like.  So don’t be feelin’ bad, Robbie.  It’ll all work out fine.”

       “I hope so.  So – what happens in an Eirish wedding?”

       “Well, there’s this kind of old Romish ceremony, see?  We have somethin’ called Praysts, ye know.  There’s a family of ’em lives over in Wicklo – claim to be descendants of Praysts that were still practicin’ in Eira when the Romishers fell apart in the 24th century and the last Headman over in Roma was assassinated.  It’s one of them as must urge along the words of joinin’ … ”  Kolm broke off.  “Don’t look so mazed, lad.  It’s quite a bash, really, and not all pious mouthin’s – you’ll enjoy it!  There’ll be a monster feast afterward – apple-raisin cake with sour cream frostin’ and plenty of lamb stew, and the good Eirish stout flowin’.”

       “So … so … you want me to be there?”

       “Be there!  Robbie, ye’re gonna be me Best Man.”

       “Your what?”

       “Best Man!  Every groom has a friend who stands up with him at his weddin’ – kind of holds the groom up and keeps him from collapsin’, and makes sure he gets there on time with his shirt buttoned up proper and all – but in this case it may be the groom who’s havin’ to hold his Best Man up!”  Kolm was laughing so hard at Robbie’s reactions that he nearly choked on his tart. 
       “Kolm, I’m not – remnant Romish.  I don’t know anything about it.”

       “Doesn’t matter.  It’s the feelin’s that count, man.  And what man in the world could I have nearer feelin’s for, Robbie, than you?  And it’s flatterin’ meself I am that you would say the same about me.”

SO HERE'S THE SUMMATION (IT'S JUST NOT ME!)

       Kolm returned from his vacation only two days after Robbie got back.  The Engineer was full of news.  He had seen Wilda, who had returned to work even though May was only a year old (the extra mouth to feed made money tight).  Kolm had also visited Prf. Flournoi and discussed the problems with Eiginsh's new models.  Flournoi pointed out flaws that even Lara had missed and he agreed that the situation regarding the creeping jumps was concerning.  After some additional debate, Robbie couldn't resist telling Kolm all about his meeting with Fedaylia High Feather, but then Kolm responded with personal news of his own.  He and Dana had set a wedding date and he wanted Robbie to be his Best Man.  Robbie was overwhelmed -- he knew nothing about Romisher weddings. But it seemed he was going to get a crash course -- the pair arrived at the MaGilligoody farm on 15 August.

       IF YOU THINK THAT'S MORE FUN TO READ THAN THE LONGER PASSAGE, THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOU!  LOL  However, I'm not ruling out some additional surgery -- just not a complete excision.

The Man Who Found Birds among the Stars, Ch. 12, Pt. 2

I am sorry to have to say this will be the last installment

of my unfinished novel, The Man Who Found Birds among the Stars. 

I'm in the process of revising the text for publication. 

I've abandoned the flash-back format, which is a bit of a spoiler, 

and I'm dividing up some of these very long chapters and desperately striving to cut it down.

I'll keep everyone informed as to my progress.

 

A list of the previous posts (point to the chapter and the link will appear):
Prologue
Chapter 1 The Captain Eats Crow
Chapter 2 How Robbin Nikalishin Got His Name
Chapter 3 The Captain Receives an Unexpected Assignment
Chapter 4 School Days at Epping Academy
Chapter 5 The Captain Takes Command of the Red Planet

Chapter 6 Crises and Decisions

Chapter 7 An Old Love and Another Assignment

Chapter 8 (Pt.1) Robbin Nikalishin and Sharlina Graves [pt.1]

Chapter 8 (Pt.2) Robbin Nikalishin and Sharlina Graves [pt.2]

Chapter 9 Aboard the Ore Freighter Hell's Gate

Chapter 10 How the Relationship between Robbie and His Silver Mother Changed

Chapter 11 The Captain Receives an Unconditional Reprieve

Chapter 12, Pt. 1 A Summer Adventure and a Term at Oxkam

 

Chapter 12, Pt. 2

Robbie Meets Kolm's Family

Robbie wrestled with these matters until well into Trinitary Term, at first alone with Prf. Eiginsh and then to a lesser extent with Prf. Flournoi, with whom he explored the theoretical foundations of the work.  At one point, Robbie asked if Kolm couldn’t participate in the studies, since the engineering aspects of the subject captivated the young Eirishman.  The Professors respected Kolm’s intellect as much as Robbie’s and were willing to include him.  Robbie had an ulterior motive; he hoped to get Kolm so intrigued with the idea of creating and maintaining an interstellar drive that he would commit to entering the Flight Academy with him the following year.
       When the Midwinter Holidays came round, Robbie’s old demon reared its head again and he had no idea what to do with himself.  He woke Kolm up one night with the dream about the baby, although he didn’t reveal the nature of the nightmare to his friend.
       Kolm said to him, “It’s goin’ home that’s worrying ye again, isn’t it?  Now, I’m not askin’ ye for any explanations, so don’t get huffy or jump up and paste me in the side of the head – just hear me out.  I was wonderin’ if ye’d like to come home to Eira with me for the holidays.  There’ll be a passel of great food, and some traditions that may be new to ye.”
       So Robbie rang up Sterling and actually caught her at home.  When she heard his plans, she was silent for a minute and then said, “I haven’t seen you, Robbie, since before you went birding last summer."
       This irritated him because it made him feel guilty, and he really didn’t think she had any right to make him feel guilty.  “Why do you want to see me?  Is there any real reason, Mum?  You must be busy, particularly at this holiday season.” 
       “Of course there’s no reason,’ she said, her voice grating.  “I’m being rather silly, aren’t I?  There should be a logical reason for everything we do; that’s quite obvious.”
       A silence hung between them.  Then Sterling said, “Go to Eira, Robbin.  Kolm is a fine boy and it will be a useful experience for you. You have your mother’s blessing.”
       It was with great relief that Robbie shut down the com, although he had no idea as to whether that “blessing” remark was sarcastic or sincere.
       So he went home with Kolm to his family’s farm not far inland from Wicklo Precinct and the experience was a revelation equal to the birding trip.  He learned at last what it was like to be raised in a traditional family, with your roots growing from a piece of ground you called your own.  Kolm’s mother and father, Joanna and Mat, and his two sisters, nine-year-old Aideen and fifteen-year-old Fiona, all lived in a rambling, inefficient house of concrete and fieldstone that predated the Union by a hundred years.  Kolm’s widowed grandmother lived with them as well, a lively, good-natured old lady who made a lamb stew worth dying for.  Kolm’s mother baked wonderful soda bread, served with honey from the family’s own bees.  Robbie got stung examining the hives, much to the merriment of Fiona and Aideen.  The fifteen-year-old flirted mercilessly with Robbie, who carefully reined in his responses, because Kolm made some threats that struck him as only half-humorous.
       Robbie met domestic animals for the first time; there had been dogs at Dois Palmas, but they were big, brutish guard dogs, intimidating to a small boy.  Here there were not only dogs, but cats, goats, sheep, chickens, geese, and a couple of equines.  The equines were mere ponies, kept mainly for the entertainment of the family’s and the neighbors’ children, but Robbie found them unnerving.  He was goaded into mounting one and promptly fell off into a pile of manure.  Kolm teased him.  “Here, the big star-flyin’ man can’t even keep his seat on a little mare pony!  That doesn’t bode so well for the future of Earth’s space program, now, does it?”
       “A space plane’s got bulkheads, you nit,” responded Robbie good-humoredly as he pelted his friend with manure, “and restraint belts on the seats.  This monster’s got no safety mechanisms – and no guidance system!  It’s like riding on the outside of the hull!”
       Of all the animals, Robbie found the chickens and geese the most fascinating, to the perplexity of Kolm’s family, who looked upon them matter-of-factly as a source of eggs and meat.  When one of the geese hissed and pecked at Robbie, he simply stood his ground and honked at it, and strangely enough the bird backed off with what seemed like a puzzled mien.  And the roosters fascinated him, with their strut and their raucous crowing, their proud combs and flocks of adoring hens.  He told Kolm that obviously these gamecocks knew how to please their women.
       The Eirish Midwinter festivity was different from anything Robbie had ever heard of.  It was celebrated on the solstice, but Kolm’s father explained that it incorporated elements from what ancient Romish worshipers had called Krismess.  Robbie’s knowledge of the Romish religion came solely from a brief exposition in one of Prf. Doone’s classes, so he was interested to see what it entailed. 
       The MaGilligoodys set up something they called a “kraytch” – a little array of figurines in a cave-like setting.  There was a woman in a blue gown with silvery trim on it, a baby lying in a cradle, and a man standing beside them.  From the top of the cave projected a wire with a star on it, something like the star on Robbie’s space plane.  There were sheep and donkeys arrayed around, and (mystifyingly) a camel, and winged fairies stuck up on the wall behind.  Facing this tableau were two men dressed in bright robes, holding out a box and a vial. 
       Kolm said, “There are supposed to be three of those, but last year one of ’em disappeared.  I think maybe one of the cats got holt of it and carried it off.”
       “What’s it represent?” asked Robbie, watching Kolm’s Grammy lighting fat beeswax candles at each end of the scene.
       “It’s the birth of that god-man Jaysus that’s on me medal,” said Kolm.  “That’s his mother Mairin watchin’ over him.  He was supposed to have been born this time of the year – that’s what we’re celebratin’.”
       “Who’s the man?  I thought you said he didn’t have a father.
       “It’s his foster father, name of Josef.  Mairin was married to him, ’cause that was back in the days when women had to have men to look after them."
       "What’s the star for?” 
       “They say it burst out bright in the sky at Jaysus’s birth.  Probably a supernova, you know, if it ever really happened a-tall.  And the family was so poor that the babby was birthed in a barn, and yet this star set up right atop it.  Those chaps in the robes – they call ’em Wise Men – Professors, most likely … they got its coordinates and brought fancy gifts to Jaysus to show they recognized he was a god.  It’s supposed to have happened somewhere at the east end of the Mediterrian, where it’s all a Devastation Zone now.  A pretty tale, it is.”
       “And you Eirish really worship this god?” asked Robbie, looking at Kolm’s father.
       “Oh, I don’t know that I’d call it worship, lad,” Mat MaGilligoody said.  “But we Eirish tend to be a superstitious lot.  If it’s not gods, it’s fairies, ye know.  Two of those even got hooked up in this tale, ye can see there.  It’s just part of our tradition to do these here things at Midwinter – a nice, peaceful way of celebratin’.”
       Robbie found it totally bizarre, but nevertheless he stood looking at the baby and at the mother and at the star, unable to interpret the emotions that were weltering within him.
       On that day of solstice they had a big feast … the main course was goose, which made Robbie a little uncomfortable, afraid he was eating the one whose acquaintance he had made … and then they sang traditional songs.  Some were in an ancient tongue that even the MaGilligoodys didn’t know the meaning of, but one was in an ancient dialect of Inge.

Silent night, holy night ...
All is calm, and all is bright
Around the vergin mother and child --
Holy infant, all tender, all mild ...
May the cleep in a haven of peace ...
Sleep in a haven of peace ...

       Robbie thought he had never heard a song so tranquil and so moving.  “That mother and child – that’s your Mairin and Jaysus?” he asked.
       “Right.  The same as is in the kraytch,” said Mat.
        “I can’t help being a little surprised.  I thought all the ancient religions were supposed to be violent and evil.  This doesn’t seem that way.”
       And Kolm’s mother said, “I’ve an idea, friend of me son, that none of them was violent in its heart.  I think it’s the hearts of humans that misunderstood the Right Way and made ’em so.”
       Later in the evening, Kolm played a tin whistle, a talent that Robbie hadn’t known he possessed, and Kolm’s father played a grotesque musical instrument where the air was forced through a bag.  They told ancient Eirish stories about vanishing cities and wandering lights and they drank mulled ale; it was not Robbie’s first taste of alcohol, but it was his first time to drink a little more than was wise.  The next morning he was privileged to experience his first hangover.
       When the time came to return to school, the boys splurged by taking an excursion boat across Sainjorge’s Channel instead of catching a wing hopper.  The craft was operated by Gwidian Tours, the enterprise of an old family of seafarers from Kardif.  It was yet another first for Robbie – his first time to bob on the waters of the sea.  He got a bit queasy, but it excited him tremendously, and he hated to see the trip end.
       “Ye’re kinda quiet, lad,” said Kolm, as they neared the harbor.  “What are ye thinking about?”
       “I’m thinking that I envy you, Goody,” Robbie replied.  “I didn’t know – couldn’t have realized – how happy people … a family like yours … could be … ”
       Kolm clapped him on the shoulder.  “Well, ye do seem to have had a bit of a rough time in yer life, friend of mine.  But ye’re welcome in my family.  Ye’re welcome to come back and soil yer boots in the goose shit as often as ye like!”

*          *          *

Early in Trinitary Term, Prf. Flournoi called Robbie into his office.  “At the risk of bolstering what I perceive as a pretty substantial ego, Mr. Nikalishin, I have to tell you that your progress has impressed both Prf. Eiginsh and me.  Man, you’re only 17 years old, and you’ve reached a point that is often beyond the reach of a First Termer.  It’s post-grad stuff that you’re doing.”
       “I’m really gratified to hear that, sir.  Prf. Eiginsh sometimes makes me feel like a mental flea.  He’s awfully good at tearing apart what I think are perfectly cogent pieces of reasoning.”
       Flournoi chuckled.  “He is that.  Not very verbally adept, though, is he?”
       “Oh, did he tell you about the name thing, sir?  We have this on-going battle.”
       “Don’t let him get to you.  I’ve known him some fifteen years now, and to this day my name sometimes comes out of his mouth as ‘Foolroi’ or ‘Flower-boy.’”
       They laughed together.  Then the Professor said abruptly, “Mr. Nikalishin, I want you to apply for regular admission to Oxkam next year.  I can almost guarantee you a scholarship.”
       Robbie looked at him.  “Oh!  Well, I appreciate your faith in me, Prf. Flournoi, but I really don’t think I want to do that.  I plan to attend the Flight Academy at Old Heathero.  I’ve already got the Permission to Apply in hand and I was just on the verge of asking you if you could be so kind as to write a recommendation for me.”
       Flournoi was clucking and shaking his head.  ”Your mind will be wasted in the military.  You have the potential to do great things in either the theoretical or applied fields of temporal quantum physics.  Do you realize how rare your kind of intellectual ability is?  Why do you think it took over six centuries from the discovery of quantum mechanics and superstrings to come up with temporal quantum theory?”
       “I always thought it was because the Dark Age got in the way.”
       “Well, that can’t have helped, but my point is, it takes an intellect of rare and eccentric brilliance like Iven Herinen’s to achieve such a breakthrough.  You might – you aren’t quite there yet, but you might – just have such a mind.  And you want to throw it all away on some space-pilot hero riff.”  Flournoi shook his head.
       Robbie was getting a little irritated.  “I’m not all that sure I do have that kind of mind, Professor, and I’m not sure I have the dedication for it.  I wanted to become competent in this branch of physics because I believe it’s the foundation of an interstellar drive and I know that understanding something of the science behind your engines can make you a better pilot and – a better Captain, if I should ever be so fortunate.  You shouldn’t just punch buttons – you should know what happens when you punch them, and why.  But the flying has always come first with me.  It’s my motivation.  Without that, I might just throw over the whole thing and become … ”  He cast about for an example.  “ … a bird counter.  Or a farmer in Eira.”
       Flournoi gave a rather startled laugh at that, not fully understanding what prompted those examples.  “Well, I’m not going to lay off you about this, Robbie.  And I’m not going to agree to write your recommendation yet, either.  Let’s wait awhile.  Think it over; don’t act rashly.  And then maybe … ”
       “It’s not rash,” said Robbie.  “It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”
       He talked all this over with Kolm, who said, “A rare opportunity it is, Robbie – to have some of the most learned men on Earth beggin’ ye to attend one of the greatest universities on Earth.  Ye might even get a chance to work on the SkyPiercer Project.”
       “I am going to work on the SkyPiercer Project,” exploded Robbie.  “I’m going to fly one of the first ships with a TQ drive that is ever constructed.  And you are going to be the Engineer on it.  Kolm, you know I want us to be a team – to go into space together!”
       “I know ye do, lad, but … ”  Kolm chewed his lip.  His Permission to Apply for the Flight Academy also reposed in a drawer of his desk.  “Ye’re not the only one they asked to stay here, ye know.  They didn’t prime me up quite as full as they did you, but they were a fair bit flatterin’.  And me parents … well, I’d be the first person in me family to get into a high and mighty school like this.  The best anyone did afore me was me Mum, who spent a year at the MaCrory Technical College up in Dublen.”
       Robbie shoved his fingers through his hair.  “Kolm, you stubborn nit, I want you with me at Old Heathero.”
       “Robbie, why is it so important to ye that I go with you?  We can’t be together our whole life, man.  We’ll both marry us a woman someday and settle down and raise a family.  We can’t stay together forever.”
       “See, I don’t see that in my future.  I want … ”
       “I know.  You want to be a space hero.”
       “Well, yes, juvenile as that sounds.  And every hero needs a companion – somebody to share his adventures with him.  Can’t you be that for me?  …  Besides, I need you, Kolm.”
       The last words seemed wrenched out of him, and Kolm frowned.  “Ah, lad … ”
       “You keep me stable, Goody.  You know that.  I … Sometimes I think something terrible would go wrong with my life if you weren’t a part of it.”
       Robbie was scowling and scrubbing the back of his neck, looking up defensively at Kolm.  The young Eirishman sat down beside him.  “Now, Robbie, boy.  That’s touchin’ to me.  Lemme think about it a wee bit more.  It is a great draw – this takin’ care of the fancy newfangled light-time engine of an interstellar ship.  Maybe I could even get to be a tiny hero in me own right.”
       Robbie laughed shakily.  “I have no doubt whatsoever of it.  Come on, Goody, don’t let me down.” 
       The upshot of it all, of course, was that Professors Flournoi and Eiginsh regretfully relented and wrote the recommendations, and Robbin Nikalishin and Kolm MaGilligoody went down to the Old Heathero Flight Academy together in the fall term of 2747 – an event that was indeed to have consequences for the history of the modern world.
 

That's all, folks!
You'll have to wait ... and wait ... and wait ...
till the first volume of The Man Who Found Birds is published.