Gray Angels

First contact was achieved near stellar nursery Aldebaran Aardwolf
in sector 917J of sub-universe Diorama Kirigami.
Readouts of the alien ship were attained from the long range sensor.
Seen up close, it stole from each crew member precious moments,
tantalizingly unique in design, yet mysterious in intent.

Commander Nori Nocilis made the first reference, even though he was agnostic:
“O, it is as if angels of gray wander among Heaven’s inferno!”
Nods in unison followed from a crew chosen predominantly from Orion.
Troo Nogra, busy at his science station, emitted a low grunt:
“All frequencies transmitting, Commander, and the entire panorama
consistent with basic mathematics, assuming they are analytic.”
“Truth will out, Troo,” Nori quipped, “math being everywhere a constant.”

Signatures of benevolent contact resounded with sudden abruptness.
Prime numbers, from one to one hundred and one, filled the ship.
Agleam, science officer Troo approached Commander Nocilis in his own utopia:
“Certain as Betelgeuse is red, they ascribe to science and logic!”
Edging along the crystalline rail to meet Troo, Nori spoke:
“Fine, officer Troo, but how do we continue? Are we at a standoff?”
All the glow fell from Troo--a normal flowing Nogra wobbled like arrhythmia.
Reaching out an arm, Nocilis steadied Troo and eased him into his chair.
“Interstellar space is a cold and uncaring medium,” said Nori.
Nogra looked up at his Commander and managed a wry grin.
“Grandeur is the universe, along with life,” Troo replied with a slight shrug.

Energy beams illumed the ship leaving Nori and Troo to simply stare.
X-ray images appeared and disappeared in a taunt of cosmic vex.
Troo returned to his station--Nori assumed his position of earned trust.
Reality had positioned him thusly, to command, to now stand at contact’s door.
“All stations report,” Nori demanded, face stern yet masking an apprehensive melodrama.
Troo looked up, pointed, and he and Commander Nocilis were transfixed by a beam of light.
Emerging obviously from the alien ship, an image
revealed in dull gray, somewhat round yet misshapen, with silver fur.
Remaining still, both Nogra and Nocilis fought off fear,
each one clinging to an anxious, “first to make contact” precipice.
Slow and steady, the alien shape crossed four of its tentacle-like arms
to form a double plus sign (or a number sign, Troo thought),
radiating a celadon glow as the alien pantomime retained its finest hour.
“I do not think that was a hostile gesture,” offered Nori.
“All in all,” Nocilis added, "I would say perfect for our agenda.”

Light and shape faded from the bridge of the Starship, Universal Appeal.
Silenced in deep space, two ships departed as suns burned bright in the cosmos.

40 Lines
Writer’s Cramp Winner
4-6-13