AND ANOTHER EXCERPT FROM 'REACH FOR MARS',

“Tell me Gorad, have you ever heard of and/or tasted Alcohol in any of its guises?” I enquired. Gorad glanced over at me,

“That depends, describe some of its guises to me.”

So I did until Gorad held up his hand to silence me,

“I have heard of wine, rum and vodka. I would like a glass of the one with the lowest alcoholic content if you please, as I am driving later.”

I made my way to the kitchen and made a coffee for Nick and myself to go with the rum as I figured he needed it and I knew damned well that I did! I poured a red wine for Gorad and carried it all back to the table on a tray. As I entered the dining area I saw that Gorad was being assaulted with and trying to fend off many questions from the excited crew. I rescued him, sort of, by handing him his wine and with a nod of thanks he took a large swallow from the glass, which was very ill-advised. When sampling our alcoholic products for the first time it is advisable to use utmost caution, we were getting better with practice but the use of the word ‘rough’ when describing the bouquet, taste and character of our red wines was still considered a very polite word to use.

Gorad was suffering bouts of coughing caused by his reckless lack of caution but managed to croak out these words between coughing spasms,

“Smooth! Very smooth! I think I know ........what you do with any............ extra methanol you......... find lying about the place.”

Gorad staggered over to the table and sat in the seat at the head of it while I was hammered by a fusillade of filthy looks from all of my fellow crew-members, except Nick of course. He sat happily sipping his coffee and rum with a beatific smile (and no sympathy whatsoever) on his face while he watched Gorad’s suffering.

“You really should sip it slowly, Gorad,” I said belatedly, “You didn’t give me a chance to warn you.”

Gorad’s coughing abated so he tentatively took a small sip slowly from his glass which only caused a slight hiccup instead of a coughing fit.

“Yeah, I guess that was my mistake. Sorry about that.”

He then stood up and leaned forward to rest on his hands as he placed them on the table before him. Dick interrupted Gorad as he was about to speak,

“Did you build this City?”

“I didn’t, but my ancestors did, and we want it back. So if you could pack up all your stuff and clear out by the end of the month we would very much appreciate it!”

And another from 'WE ARE MARTIAN',

. He stood in the doorway with his helmet still on and his suit charred with Carbon exhaust from his directional thrusters, and still smoking. He stepped into the room and with a slight hiss of escaping oxygen undid the locking clamps of his helmet and lifted it over his head, then tucked it under his arm as Nick and I had done.

The countenance of the creature that was revealed by the removal of that helmet was sort of surprising to me. It wasn’t green, lumpy and bumpy with huge ears, antennas poking out of the top of its head and a protruding snout, constantly drooling, dribbling and possibly even foaming. Nor did it have Burning eyes of any colour!

The creature’s face that was revealed by the removal of that helmet was very definitely human in a very surprising way. Gorad had golden blonde hair swept back from his thin, slightly pale aristocratic face, with the most peaceful, calming, and kindest blue eyes I had ever seen. In fact the powerful presence that emanated from Gorad was exactly that, I felt calm, at ease and safe in his presence. An effect that was increased even more, I noticed, when he smiled,

“Greetings Earthlings,” He paused as his smile grew, “or perhaps I should say Martians. My name is Gorad. I am an Explorer, Scout and Ambassador from the planet ‘Zengrila’ and I mean you no Harm or Hassles.”

He placed his helmet on the end of the table then stepped back and leaned against the wall behind him as Nick and I moved forward and stood on either side of the table then placed our helmets alongside Gorad’s. Yeah, I’m sure anybody reading this with their PhD’s in Psychology firmly grasped in their hands  are probably saying to themselves that surely this act was a subconscious aligning with, and deference of authority to Gorad. Well those people can shove their PhD’s where the Sun never shines (except in their own minds) and grasp something else of theirs firmly in their hands if it pleases them. Nick had nothing but nasty thoughts about Gorad at that time and would certainly not even consider doing anything that might in any way help or please him, and nor would I. The table where his helmet rested just happened to be the closest flat surface to put our helmets down on and as we were tired of holding them tucked under our arms and we wanted a drink, which also happened to be on that particular table!