​ Humans are Weird – Boom, Boom, Boom


“The air itself tasted of the eternal.
The sky split and opened.
Fire lanced across space itself.
The immortal touched the child, and both cried out for the beauty.”


Prince Triclick rubbed his sensory horns ruefully as he finished chanting the poem and cast a final glance over where the silverwings were stored. The graceful long distance transports normally sat in the open field in tastefully arranged clusters around their maintenance sheds. Each one would be anchored with a graviton tether more than strong enough to keep it on the ground even in its passive mode. That is how he had always arranged his wings on his home colony, and that is how he had lost the majority of this colony’s silverwings. A shame that had nearly cost his family the rights to develop this world.
Now the graceful curve of each leading edge of the beautiful craft was shoved under the trailing edge of the one in front of it. Thick cables that couldn’t help but bite into and damage the sensitive sensors that impregnated the flight surfaces crossed over and extended wing surfaces. Over all this, to protect everything from the chaos approaching from the north, northeast the human had thrown a hyper-insulating tarp. The dullest grey surface you could imagined covered the whole in a tight wrap. Each graviton tether was fully activated and the whole thing resembled some humming isopod that had escaped from a world with far less gravity and peace of mind. Seven such monstrosities were lined up at a respectful distance from the next so that if one line of protection failed the rest wouldn’t be damaged.
“That was beautiful,” Ranger Smith said, the admiration vibrating up through Prince Triclick’s feet and drawing his attention back to the present moment.
At least the power of the human’s voice made his sensory horns stop tingling, Prince Triclick thought with a rueful grimace.
“Who wrote it again?” the human asked.
“When she wrote it her name was Thrity-Five Flaps,” Prince Triclick explained. “The entire poem cycle earned her the right to a smaller name and she recorded her next names as Fifteen Trills.”
The human nodded and grunted as he bent down and with an almost terrifying display of force lifted the remaining tarp and began striding back to the main tent that was sheltered in among the trees.
“So you do get thunderstorms on your homeworld?” Private Smith asked.
“None like that,” Prince Triclick stated, glaring back over his shoulder at the black bank of clouds that was gradually surging towards them from the north.
“But you do have some, or how could What’s her Flap have written that poem cycle,” the human pressed eagerly.
Prince Triclick gave a little sigh of relief as they passed under the dense canopy of the forest proper and the potent electrostatic energy began to dissipate in the movement of the branches. .
“We do,” he agreed, “but they are vanishingly rare. The one that inspired that particular poetry was the result of a meteor shower of heavily ionizing fragments.”
The human bobbed his head eagerly as he listened. Private Smith was clearly enjoying this story immensely and Prince Triclick sound himself getting into it as well despite the ominous feeling caused by the approaching storm. They reached the main tent, the one used as a cafeteria and general meeting place just as he was describing how the meteor shower had disrupted power over half a continent.
“Yo!” a rough voice called out. “Stow the tarps and help us secure the edges! The auto cinch failed!”
“Sorry sir!” Ranger Smith said, carefully but quickly boosting the prince from his shoulder. “I gotta get this!”
Prince Triclick mentally licked down his irritation, he really had been at the best part of the story and it rubbed his fur all wrong to end it there, but duty was duty no matter what your species was, and he flapped up to a handy perch. He considered going back to his office, but it shouldn’t take the humans very long to finish cinching down the edges of the tent manually and perhaps Ranger Smith would like to hear the rest of the story while the current storm raged among the uppermost branches of the forest. Prince Triclick pulled out a portable data pad and began working on a few low priority tasks while keeping one ear perked for the sound of Ranger Smith’s footsteps. However he had finished several tasks by the time Sargent Holt strode in announcing that all the hatches were battened, whatever that meant, and he was getting a drink and starting a fire.
Prince Triclick did not like the sound of any of that, from the metaphor he clearly didn’t know, to the concept of a human mixing alcohol and fire, even if they were each in their proper place, but he knew better by now than to attempt to interfere with a determined Holt. Just then the first flash of lightening came through the transparent sections of the tent and Prince Triclick clenched his jaw to keep from shuddering as the massive rolling boom of the thunder followed it. He almost succeeded. The first crack was louder than the team had calculated and overwhelmed the sound dampening layers in the tent.
There was a general start as the majority of the Winged in the tent took to the air and sought out their particular human friend. A general and gentle murmur followed as the humans opened their outermost layer at the chest to let their particular Winged friends find that extra layer of insulation provided by their bodies and their coats. Holt glanced over at Prince Triclick and lifted a great flap invitingly. Prince Triclick eyed the place uncertainly for a moment, he would rather wait for Ranger Smith. However the lightening flashed again, closer now, and Prince Triclick darted for the protective space before the following sound wave could hit.
The insulation on the tent meant that he couldn’t hear the first drops of precipitation strike the roof and for that he was grateful as he snuggled into the soft material of Sargent Holt’s coat. The engineers insisted that shoving your sensory horns into a natural material to mute the sound of thunders storms was a far inferior method to the sound cancelers they developed, but then engineers were rather thick in the skull in Prince Triclick’s opinion. As soon as the sound rolled away he peeled his still stinging sensory horns away from Holt’s coat and blinked up at him.
“Have you seen Ranger Smith?” Prince Triclick asked. “He wished me to finish a story for him.”
Holt nodded.
“Doubt you’ll be able to finish it before the end of the storm,” Holt said.
“And why is that?” Prince Triclick asked.
“Smith is out in the sheds with the rest of the storm watchers,” Holt said jerking his chin towards the rear of the tent.
Prince Triclick blinked up at him in shock. He almost missed the next lightening flash.
“The sheds are nearly uninsulated!” Prince Triclick burst out. “The noise level-”
“That’s just why they like it,” Holt interrupted, bringing his jar of frothy fermented liquid to his lips before expanding on that nonsense.
“Remember humans aren’t as noise sensitive as you wingy folk,” Holt continued, “and lots of humans like the sound of rain. Can’t hear that at all in the insulated bits.”
Prince Triclick pondered this as he ducked his head once more to press his sensory horns into the material of Holt’s coat. When the wave of sound passed, he thought it took longer this time, he looked up at Holt again.
“You are claiming,” he began, “that more than one human would rather spend a storm in an unheated, uninsulated storage shed having their eardrums blasted and there electroreceptors tingled rather than spend it by the-” he glanced over at the fireplace and the primitive nature of that stopped him.
Perhaps there was a bit of inconsistency in being shocked at the one behavior, and passing over the madness of insisting on having a fire in a forest in a storm. Holt gave a chuckle and gestured with his fermented drink at the fire that cracked and sent out a wave of sparks.
“Hey,” he said, “we ain’t all nuts like that.”
He raised the drink to his lips and took a long drought. Prince Triclick stared up at him and felt his astonishment bleed out into a sigh.
“No,” he agreed. “Not like that.”
Another flash came and he tucked his sensory horns back into the coat.
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What does it mean when your human friend says “Watch This?”? Why does this simple phrase seem to terrify any alien that has first appendage experience with humans? #HFY #HumansAreWeird #HumansAreSpaceOrcs #EarthIsADeathWorld #EarthIsSpaceAustralia


Hey! The books are moving well on Amazon and now have 300 reviews and ratings! If you bought the book and enjoyed it, it would really help me out if you leave a quick star rating on Amazon. A review would be great but just stars would be a huge boost *****!
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QUICK NOTE: RE: everyone who asked. The book is avaliable in Amazon regions US-UK-DE-FR-ES-IT-NL-JP-BR-CA-MX-AU-IN. HOWEVER The above link only takes you to the US Amazon site. The one indicated by the .com ending. If it says "not avaliable in your country" that just means that you need to click over to your Amazon region.


Of course if you want a signed first edition you can email me at the email on my website and I can ship you a signed Author copy of the first edition for the same price as the crowdfunding campaign $35 domestic and $60 overseas. I'll do that until I run out of extra books.
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 Humans are Weird – In a Tangle


Brilliant sunlight filtered down through the skylights as Private Cutdepth sorted through the box in front of him. He couldn’t help glancing up longingly at the glowing patch of heat on the wall. The cold time the humans called ‘winter’ was finally receding as the revolutions of the titled planet brought the blessed light of the local star to bear on their joint base. However the long cold seemed to have driven the spirit of crystal water into every crack and crevice of the base, even into his own joints, he thought as he flexed his tail ruefully. Again he felt the loose flap of skin rub against the storeroom floor sending a twinge of discomfort into his spine. He thought longingly of the nice thick layer of fat he had displayed on the sides of his tail when he had arrived in the warm time. Growing up in his father’s colony he had never thought about those precious reserves of energy and insulation. Now he couldn’t wait to feel them expand once more as the humans promised they would with the return of the blossoms and fresh growth.
“Grind that toothful when the gears get there,” Private Cutdepth said with a sigh as he pulled his attention from the attractive patch of warmth on the wall and recommenced rummaging through the box in front of him.
He reached over and once more ran a sensitive palm over the odd, human datapad he had been issued that morning. There was no handy texture differential to indicate where the charging surface was though Private O’Brien insisted that a unique texture would soon develop from repeated use of the chargers. There was a slight, a very, very slight color differential. Something vaguely between gray and black. Private Cutdepth was able to see it, in direct sunlight in noonday, but that did him little good here. He sighed and tried to recall the distance from the edge of the charging surface to the edge of the device as a whole. Once the device was charged of course he would be able to feel the electrostatic differential easily on his palms despite the numbness around his two primary fingers.
“But if it had a charge I wouldn’t need to be here digging for a charger,” Private Cutdepth muttered to himself, before licking his eyes in frustration and shoving his hands into the box.
Thanks to the numbness it took him several more seconds than it should have to realize that these were the charging units for the great mechanical devices, far overrated for his little datapad. They would work, but it would be a shameful misuse of equipment. With another sigh he turned to a stack of unlabeled boxes on a higher shelf. His tail twitched as he mentally calculated the vertical distance to the boxes. It was technically too high for him and protocol required that he either call a human for aid or get a ladder. With a huff of defiance in the general direction of the safety manual he grabbed the lowest shelf and pulled himself up.
His own data reading device, a gift from his mother before leaving home, had finally failed. The specially made device had lasted longer than the regulation issue items had, but even it had eventually succumbed to the wild fluctuations in temperature he had exposed it to in the course of nursing their water collectors along. The rupture of the power core that had damaged his palm and left him numb had been, according to the manufacturer, an unprecedented catastrophic failure, and from the way they had so eagerly demanded it back and unparalleled opportunity to gather data. The human datapad, made explicitly to take massive temperature changes would presumably last longer with its shielded layers.
He reached the boxed that he hoped contained the smaller chargers and reached out with his good forehand to grab it. However his numb fingers didn’t quite have the grip on the shelf that he thought and just as he secured his grasp on the top box he felt himself begin to slip backwards. He felt a moment of pure, hatchling panic before the fall was over and he was gasping on the ground, blinking and licking his eyes with a cable coiled around his snout.
Private Cutdepth took a moment to carefully flex, feeling for any injuries. He doubted the short fall would have done any damage but he had lost a lot of his protective fat to the cold. Pawing at that the false stone flooring the humans used was quickly beginning to leech the warmth out of his back scutes. Determining that his spine was still intact he flung himself over. Or rather he made an effort to fling himself over onto his paws. Something was wrapped tightly around one hind leg, something apparently wedge shaped was pressing into the side he had tried to roll preventing movement, and many small things were under his tail, preventing him from getting any leverage from the floor.
He gave a few experimental wriggles and produced a small avalanche behind his head. Feeling irritation building he gave a powerful sweep of his tail, only to hear something give an expensive sounding snap and drive one eyes into something pokey.
“What’s going on here?” Called out the rich warm voice of a human.
Private Cutdepth froze and let humiliation and relief grind out their respective rights while the human approached, the floor vibrating with the double beat of his footfalls.
“My dude!” Private O’Brien’s voice explained, vibrating with suppressed laughter, “my little dude! Are you okay?”
“I didn’t sprain my scutes,” Private Cutdepth replied.
“Do you need a hand up?” Private O’Brien asked, his massive upper body swaying into view.
“If it wouldn’t gum your gears,” Private Cutdepth said.
It was a booted foot that Private O’Brien extended to gently prod Private Cutdepth, tuck under his shoulder, and roll the other onto his belly. Private Cutdepth tried to get his footing on the smooth false stone and found himself scrambling in the cluster of cables and devices.
“Take it easy little dude,” Private O’Brien said with a chuckle.
The human folded himself down and began gathering up the various charging devices and other items that Private Cutdepth couldn’t identify and tossing them back into the boxes without order.
“What are those?” Private Cutdepth asked.
“Chargers, data transfer points,” Private O’Brien frowned down at an oblong in his hand, “don’t know what this is, that sort of stuff. It’s just an odds and ends box really. You know, stuff that is too good to toss or recycle. Here’s the one you need.”
The human tossed a coil of charge cable at Private Cutdepth with the same care that he was tossing the rest into the box. Private Cutdepth carefully disentangled it from around his eyes and tucked it against the data pad as the human swept the last of the assorted items into the box and replaced the box on the shelf. Now that he had a good look at the items he could see that many were damaged and most were worn. Even the one he held, though it would be functional, showed more than acceptable wear.
“Our storage space is limited isn’t it?” Private Cutdepth asked.
“A bit,” Private O’Brien said with a shrug of his massive shoulders.
“Shouldn’t most of those be sent to the mills for recycling?” he asked, indicating the boxes of assorted items that surely only a human would consider related.
“No!” the human exclaimed, shaking his head emphatically. “They are much to valuable for that, and besides, the moment we recycled them we’d need them! And the main supply ship takes months to get here!”
Private Cutdepth blinked slowly up at the grinning human. There was clearly some joke here. The human smelled of laughter even if he wasn’t vibrating with it. Private Cutdepth heaved a sigh and tucked his new datapad and charger under his foreleg.
“Let’s go out in the sun my spinning gear,” he said in a tired tone.
“Sure thing my little dude!” the human replied.  

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What does it mean when your human friend says “Watch This?”? Why does this simple phrase seem to terrify any alien that has first appendage experience with humans? #HFY #HumansAreWeird #HumansAreSpaceOrcs #EarthIsADeathWorld #EarthIsSpaceAustralia


Hey! The books are moving well on Amazon and now have 300 reviews and ratings! If you bought the book and enjoyed it, it would really help me out if you leave a quick star rating on Amazon. A review would be great but just stars would be a huge boost *****!
​

QUICK NOTE: RE: everyone who asked. The book is avaliable in Amazon regions US-UK-DE-FR-ES-IT-NL-JP-BR-CA-MX-AU-IN. HOWEVER The above link only takes you to the US Amazon site. The one indicated by the .com ending. If it says "not avaliable in your country" that just means that you need to click over to your Amazon region.


Of course if you want a signed first edition you can email me at the email on my website and I can ship you a signed Author copy of the first edition for the same price as the crowdfunding campaign $35 domestic and $60 overseas. I'll do that until I run out of extra books.
AMAZON

 Humans are Weird – Off Schedule


“My concern is, not that a human almost started a fire in the base,” Wing Commander Five Trills explained, speaking in carefully modulated tones, “our fire suppression protocol’s are more than sufficient to prevent danger to wing or lung, no.”
The Winged, an older officer whose sensory horns were starting to wrinkle reached up and rubbed the sensory nubs absently. He should have hung comfortably over his semi-spherical desk in a spine supporting perch that was common to Winged of his advanced years. There he did perch, but his spine was arching in a distinctly uncomfortable angle to avoid the stacks of datapads and piles of papers on his desk. The walls of his office were well padded with tastefully colored vibration canceling hangings. They were almost a necessity for a healthy Winged on a human built base, for an aging Winged with growing horn sensitivity they were a medical essential. As if to emphasize this reality Wing Second Twenty-two Clicks felt the uneven beats of a human walking shiver the perch he was clinging too.
“My concern,” Wing Commander Five Trills went on, “is that there have been no less than five close calls involving the humans and fire in the past week.”
The wing second clicked in concern and felt his wings flare a bit as he gripped that information in his winghooks.
“I was not aware of that pattern,” he interjected.
“That is a compounding concerning factor,” Five Trills went on.
The wing commander cut off the quick apology Twenty-two Clicks tried to make.
“The concern comes not from the fact that you did not know,” he assured him, “rather I am deeply concerned that of the five incidents where something caught fire, or almost caught fire, only this latest one was reported through the proper channels.”
Twenty-tow Clicks gave a low tooth-whistle of unease at that.
“Nor is fire the only issue,” the wing commander went on, pulling up a list of reports on his desk projector. “There have been wingfuls of minor flooding incidents both in the base and outside in the transport yards. There has been a sharp uptick in slip, trip, and fall injuries in the humans, both reported and unreported. Private Psmith cut one hand deeply and is on medical leave as well. While one such serious injury is hardly a pattern in of itself, as part of the larger swarm of issue it is concerning.”
Wing Second Twenty-two trills stuck his tongue out in agreement, in the position that humans described as “blep”. Then he thoughtfully ran his tongue over his teeth to show he was mulling over the issue.
“Do the humans offer any explanation?” he asked.
While there were other species on the base he sincerely doubted that they would have his commander pulling his fur out in the same way.
“I have not yet had time to initiate proper conversational investigations,” the Wing Commander said, wrinkling his nose intently.
“Why not?” Twenty-two Clicks demanded.
“The main thermal of this investigation was Private Psmith’s injury,” the Wing Commander stated, shoving a small stack of datapads to the side of his desk so he could pull up the grotesque injury information in the projection. “I went to the medical ward to sympathize with him, there was no thought of investigation in my mind, but, even taking the effects of the drugs into account, he was oddly reticent to discuss the cause of his injury. At first I assumed this was pride causing him to refuse to discuss a particularly foolish action, however his manner seemed to truculent for that.”
“Truculence,” Twenty-two Clicks interjected with a thoughtful hiss. “Now that you bump me that way the humans on base have been rather over truculent-”
“Over what time frame?” the wing commander demanded.
“Over exactly this time frame,” Twenty-two Clicks responding indicating the increases accidents shown on the graph. “Also they have increased their safety protocols in response to our presence. I had been curious about it at the time, but didn’t feel the need to report a sudden increase in safety mindfulness-”
“Let’s make putting a new regulation in about that on our front teeth shall we?” Wing Commander Five Trills interjected in a dry tone.
Twenty-two Clicks gave a raspy laugh.
“Probably a decent vector,” he admitted. “I’ll add over conscientiousness about safety to the suggested paranoia file.”
The wing commander emitted a tired laugh that trailed off into a sigh as he rubbed his horns.
“I think it’s safe to say that whatever is causing this issue was something they saw coming,” Twenty-two Clicks stated.
“Did they give you any reason for the increased security?” the wing commander asked, shifting on his perch into a more comfortable position.
“I do recall that they suggested a connection between the precautions and the shift change,” Twenty-two Clicks stated.
“The shift change for the observations of the night terrors?” Five Trills asked.
Twenty-two Clicks flicked his ears in confirmation as he pulled up the schedule for the base.
“The spiky-dark moth survey as the humans call it,” Twenty-two Clicks went on. “The night terrors are such a nuisance, even a danger, to us it just made sense to delegate handling them to the humans.”
“Did the humans object?” the wing commander asked.
“Not in the least,” Twenty-two Clicks replied with an amused flick of his ears. “They called it the perfect seasonal work. “Hunting night terrors in spooky season” is what they called it.”
“Could their be a superstitious element to the behavior change?” Five Trills asked.
“Possibly,” Twenty-two Clicks said slowly, “I know humans don’t like discussing their personal superstitions very much, but I don’t think that is a major thermal in the issue. They were treating it more like a physical issue in theirselves. I recall Psmith specifically stating that the shift in schedules, ‘night hours’ he called it, would ‘mess him up until he adjusted’.”
“So there is an expectation that the problem will resolve itself,” the wing commander stated. “Still I would like to find out what exactly it is about shifting from a daylight hour shift to moonlight hour shift that ‘messes up’ the humans so bad.”  

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What does it mean when your human friend says “Watch This?”? Why does this simple phrase seem to terrify any alien that has first appendage experience with humans? #HFY #HumansAreWeird #HumansAreSpaceOrcs #EarthIsADeathWorld #EarthIsSpaceAustralia


Hey! The books are moving well on Amazon and now have 300 reviews and ratings! If you bought the book and enjoyed it, it would really help me out if you leave a quick star rating on Amazon. A review would be great but just stars would be a huge boost *****!
​

QUICK NOTE: RE: everyone who asked. The book is avaliable in Amazon regions US-UK-DE-FR-ES-IT-NL-JP-BR-CA-MX-AU-IN. HOWEVER The above link only takes you to the US Amazon site. The one indicated by the .com ending. If it says "not avaliable in your country" that just means that you need to click over to your Amazon region.


Of course if you want a signed first edition you can email me at the email on my website and I can ship you a signed Author copy of the first edition for the same price as the crowdfunding campaign $35 domestic and $60 overseas. I'll do that until I run out of extra books.
AMAZON

 Humans are Weird – Almost


Third Sister reminded herself to keep close watch on the human despite the fact that she couldn’t see his expressive face. Granted, it was made easier by the fact that she knew exactly where he was and what he was doing, but Second Brother George had already displayed a very human knack for causing chaos in the short weeks he had been staying in their hive. The wanderer was unfailingly cheerful and polite, but his impulse control was proving to be rather underdeveloped. The moment he had heard that they needed another pilot he had quite literally jumped at the chance to join the elder sisters in their work and had all but insisted that he be given the oldest walker with it’s demand for experience and attention.
The solar equinox was nearing it’s zenith and Third Sister was keeping an antenna to the breeze as the temperature crept up towards the level where her protective wax coating would no longer be useful. The dense atmosphere and the intra-solar dust clouds meant that the synthetic wax would fully protect her outer membrane from the muted radiation of the distant suns on this world, as long as it was still semi-solid. She drew in a deep breath and flexed her frill out as she braced her four feet on the crest of the vineyard hill. Below her a trio of four-legged utility vehicles crept down the access pathways between the rows of what the humans called vines. To one side a few sparse trees stood, but they cast no shadow in the light of the twin suns and did nothing to alleviate the nervousness that crept up her membrane.
She had been born on this world and had never known, nor needed, the protection of a full canopy. Even the thin covering that her Fathers’ coaxed over the main nursery lines wasn’t strictly necessary. Nevertheless the genetic need to feel that protective shield over her, or at least to know it was near still scratched at her awareness like a particularly irritating boring parasite. She tilted her head to one side, centering her vision on the central utility vehicle using the necessary mindfulness her task required to drive out the mental need. It’s extended arms reached out halfway over the rows, as did the arms of the other two. Flexible bands hung down from the arms, striking the scraggly Earth origin vines and sending a carefully calculated tremor down the woody tissue and out through the branches.
The same heavy atmosphere that meant her membrane didn’t crisp in the solar radiation also slowed the winds in some way that the Central University’s best meteorologists couldn’t quite explain. The lack of a proper night cycle also added to the lack of wind compared to most other habitable planets. When it had become clear that this strange atmospheric inertia would mean that the traditional Shatar vines would not be able to thrive Third Sister’s ancestors had not be entirely unprepared. They Understood the need for wind to strengthen woody tissue. However they had grossly undercalculated the infrastructure costs of compensating for that inertia. The solution that had arisen out of many hungry generations of trial and error was the strikers. Unable to depend on airflow most cultivated plants could simply be shaken into health. The newly arrived Earth origin plants were no exception.
Third Sister angled her triangular head to look at the notes in her hands. The would need to run another five rounds with each utility vehicle. She clicked her mandibles in frustration as her fingers twitched with the desire to take the controls of the walkers herself. Every year since she had been tall enough to reach the controls she had piloted one of the machines under the mindful supervision of Third Mother. However with First Grandmother and First Grandfather leaving to see what trading might be done in the next sector Third Mother’s time was better spent taking over their duties, leaving an empty supervisory niche at the top of the vineyards.
The first hint that something wasn’t quite right was the sound of poorly aligned gears grinding. Third Sister snapped her head up and splayed her antennas. That the sound might be coming from some other walker was nearly impossible so she centered her vision on Second Brother George’s machine without hesitation, but it was only nearly impossible so she kept her antenna splayed just in case some other aging machine, not being driven by a pilot many times too large had decided to break down. However her first speculation proved right as the striking arms flailed a moment and then snapped up and the walker gave one protesting leap before tearing off down the hill at an accelerating lope. Third Sister felt panic freeze her feet to the ground. Fear for the human’s life and limbs mingled with frantic calculations of how much damage he was going to do the rows below him, moving at that speed. She did not see how he could possibly manage the quarter circle turn that ended at the next section of rows.
Then he did. Third Sister watched in stunned and relived shock as the walker sprang and twisted to the side, somehow avoiding crashing into the staggered rows, tipping over, or even losing speed from its headlong race down the hill. Second Brother George must have maintained some level on control even as the walker gained speed. The walker and its human pilot continued, somehow managing to pull off the tight turns at each point and then gradually slowed to a stop headed up the opposite slope. Seemingly having regained control Second Brother George turned the walker and trotted it back up the hill Third Sister was on. He turned the walker and re-extended the striking arms before catching up to the others and matching their pace once more.
Third Sister remained frozen a moment longer and then scrambled over to her personal transport. The tracks clattered to life and carried her quickly to the turn point at the bottom of the hill ahead of the walkers. She jumped out and waved her arms in a signal for the human pilot to leave the cockpit of the walker. However Second Brother George only opened the door and twisted he fleshy face to expose his teeth in a friendly gesture.
“What’s up Sis?” He called out.
“What happened up the hill?” she demanded.
“What happened where?” he asked, his face wrinkling in confusion.
“You lost control of the walker speed!” Third Sister snapped. “You almost rolled the machine four times!”
“Oh that!” Second Brother George said, his face smoothing. “Yeah, I got the gear shifts mixed up again and accidentally put her in flatland sprint mode. Once she was going fast I figured there was no way to bring her under control until I had her going up the other side.”
“You almost rolled it!” Second Sister pressed.
“Almost!” Second Brother George called out with a cheerful wave. “It’s a lovely word. See you on the flip side.”
With that he closed the door and moved his walker to start back up the hill.  
Please go and leave a new rating and review on my 2nd book! 
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What does it mean when your human friend says “Watch This?”? Why does this simple phrase seem to terrify any alien that has first appendage experience with humans? #HFY #HumansAreWeird #HumansAreSpaceOrcs #EarthIsADeathWorld #EarthIsSpaceAustralia


Hey! The books are moving well on Amazon and now have 300 reviews and ratings! If you bought the book and enjoyed it, it would really help me out if you leave a quick star rating on Amazon. A review would be great but just stars would be a huge boost *****!
​

QUICK NOTE: RE: everyone who asked. The book is avaliable in Amazon regions US-UK-DE-FR-ES-IT-NL-JP-BR-CA-MX-AU-IN. HOWEVER The above link only takes you to the US Amazon site. The one indicated by the .com ending. If it says "not avaliable in your country" that just means that you need to click over to your Amazon region.


Of course if you want a signed first edition you can email me at the email on my website and I can ship you a signed Author copy of the first edition for the same price as the crowdfunding campaign $35 domestic and $60 overseas. I'll do that until I run out of extra books.
AMAZON