Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.
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My background specialty, as a historian, delves into the research of obscure alien encounters [OAE]. Sure, there are lots of more popular books and chronologies dealing with successful and long continuing alien encounters, but few in my specialty. As you might imagine my name is not among those you see on the best seller's list, since people are not inclined to read about obscurity. OAE event journals are more likely to be found in government achieves. This is due mainly to one of two events happening: one, the encounters were brief and left no noticeable impact on the planet's inhabitants or, two, the contact event left no inhabitants and thus no one to research those events - at least from the native inhabitant's side of the event.
Well, there might also be another event such as the one I stumbled onto today. This event left a few inhabitants, but the time span between the current timeline and the event is so long ago that records are as rare as hen's teeth. I found one such reference on a stone monolith buried deep in the FaqWadi tropical forest and have spent several years trying to translate it. It references our blue skin ancestors, but the language is so archaic that it is hard to believe it actually came from our native planet's heritage. It seems to be the diary of an adult female or perhaps an adult male and an adult female, about the rise of the Blueskin Dynasty.
I've been able to translate this much so far.
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The Blade Sage Returns from His Odyssey
"GD to GP20 ..."
"GD to GP20 ... can you hear me, GP20?" her whisper comes as softly as the winds blowing through the FaqWadi grasses.
I could hear her as she knelt by my knee. I remained motionless.
I had heard her one-hundred caltrons beyond the stream she crossed as she pulled that heavily weighted, two-wheeled squeaking cart she gripped in her hands while fording the stream. I could hear the slaps on her naked skin made by the tightly constrained straps that girded her waist and from the harness bound around her forehead, as she struggled through the grasses. The water had silenced the squeaking as she crossed, but that didn't stop my detecting her breathing at seventy-five caltrons as she tried to sneak up on me.
I could even smell her from fifty caltrons. The distinct scent of a young, ripe and fertile woman.
Even now, bent at my knee, I could hear the movement of her hand through the air as it slid beneath my tunic, searching. I pretended to be lulled to sleep in the front porch rocker. I loosened my grip on the blade hidden beneath the sleeping pillow nestled on my lap. Whoever this is, didn't seem bent on doing harm - so I intended to spare her life. At eight-hundred cycles old, I was far too weary and short on time to be digging another shallow grave.
Popping open my left eye, I saw a youthful, raven haired girl of about 30 cycles. Startled, she jumped and nearly fell backward into the blue and green threads of FaqWadi grasses. That's when I opened my right eye and quickly pushed forward in the rocker, "Boo!" I huffed a scant hand's width from her shocked face.
Losing her balance entirely, she screamed and backpedaled out into the field, landing on her butt. I laughed aloud watching her scramble to regain her upright stance. It took only a moment for her to regain her composure - cocky and self-assured. This one has moxie, I thought.
"Young one, putting your hands under a man's tunic could end up putting a young one in your tummy." I remarked as I measured her appearance. Taller than I, more angular than most, strong of arm and leg, she has a lighter hue of blue skin than my own. Yet, her facial features bore a strong resemblance to my lineage.
"Would that be so bad, Grandfather - of twenty generations removed?" she mused as a grin lit up her face.
"No, no, most certainly we could use more help in our valley," I answered. Her titling me as Grandfather 20 meant she was GD20 - Granddaughter of 20 generations beyond my first child. I surmised that her parents had sent her as homage payment upon my return. This child would only have heard stories about me. From her hand seeking to explore beneath my tunic, I guessed some of those included my ability to reproduce in abundance. I had been away from our valley for nearly 150 cycles, looking for the others; those who survived the events of 1,000 cycles ago.
"GP20," she began, until I raised my hand and stopped her.
"Blade Sage!" I corrected her, as I held out my hand with my long blade, crested with the symbols of our clan.
Her eyes widened at my pronouncement. I gathered that proper education was sorely lacking in my absence. Definitely, I would have to speak with the elders I had left in charge while I searched the other valleys for life signs.
"Forgive me, Sage. Mother only said you are the eldest of the elders. I thought of you only as Grandfather 20. Had I known; my insolence would never have betrayed me." She spoke quietly and with reverence as proper for her station once she became aware of my true title.
"You are forgiven, little one. I see that your wagon is filled with FaqWadi grass thatch weaves."
Before speaking again, she showed reverence and gave me the proper sign of homage. Making a closed fist with her left hand and placing it at her breast level, she placed her open palm of her right hand above it. The ancient sign left as a recognition symbol by the FaqWadi. It seems that not all education had been neglected.