My dearest nDikosa,

Great news, incredible news! If this works out the way it’s heading, my reputation will be made! I have to tell someone–this is so exciting–but keep this strictly to yourself, I beg you. If so much as a syllable of this leaks out–

First things first. The papers I’m sending you along with these siplets are the lost Gamma Draconis draft report that S.A. Roper mentions in his notes! Think of that! After all these years! I suppose the creatures stole it from him. Incredible that something so fragile would survive. Well, maybe the climate, and all. But believe me, it’s hard not to gloat–merely recovering these field notes would boost my standing in the profession handily, of course, but listen, there’s more, much more!

I can’t believe how lucky I am! First, this wlko family I tracked down, that had Gamper Steven’s notes–there’s one of them who actually speaks our language! I’d be sunk without that. Totally. I had no idea how difficult Wlko would be in the field. Before I stumbled on this find I was getting pretty discouraged about achieving anything at all. I suppose I should have studied harder. Not that my language lessons were all that useful in the first place: what if I could rip out a question like "Where is the nearest borgdak" as if it were the easiest thing in the world–and intelligibly (not as easy as you might think)–what good does it do you, when there isn’t a borgdak for a thousand kilometers? (Or a million. Same thing.) And I can’t tell one word from another when they try to talk to me. Damn animals, it’s nothing but so much hissing and purring. Whoever knows how Gamper Steven understood a single sentence. But–with this one old male I have an interpreter. That’s going to make quite the difference! ("Difference", hell: it would be impossible if I had to work strictly in Wlko.)

And–this is why it’s all so important, my love. Get this: I’ve found this family group of V. vulcus with one vulcid co-mate and one rupelid one! Unheard-of!! I probably know more about this species, what you can learn from the archives anyhow, than any being in the galaxy, and nowhere–nowhere–is there recorded even a hint of such a thing! Not so much as a hint that such a thing is possible! Everything–geography, cultural bias, you name it–militates against any such miscegenation! But here it is, right in front of my nose, big as life! And (chortle, snicker) in such an out-of-the-way spot. The likelihood that someone else, like that needle-nosed weasel Arlene Compton, would horn in on my find by dumb luck is too close to zero to measure. Baby, my reputation is made–but–only if I can work up a proper study. Just think of it! These creatures and their taste for homosexual incest have been just about studied to death, thanks to all that repellent sex-stuff. You’d have sworn there was nothing left to say about them. Until now! I still can hardly believe it.

Baby, you can look forward to a kiss from the next winner of the Plesetzky Prize! (You’ll get a good deal more than a kiss if I stay as horny as I am now! Rufff!!)

I know I’m talking in riddles, but I’m so excited I can’t think straight. It’s so unbelievable. I actually found the original site where Gamper did his wlko research, and there were these wlko there, all right, but the wrong ones. A lot of shifting around seems to have taken place about 90 years ago. But I had a hunch that Gamper Steve might just have left some sippans with homing signals, and sure enough!

Well, it wasn’t easy–a lot of scrounging equipment from the the neon assholes in the escort who brought us here–well, it took the cunning of serpents to get them to lend me the most primitive transport you can imagine. Some kind of skimmer, but I’d bet that no one in our generation has ever even seen one of these contraptions, never mind seen it two inches off the ground. I was just about to give up when, 300 kilometers to the north I picked up a signal! Think of it!

First, I wasn’t ready for the bluffs around the site and practically crash-landed. My encounter with the wlkos began awkwardly; the group had seemingly never encountered morphological field-workers before and were very apprehensive. Nothing remarkable about that, though it was annoying. What was remarkable was that one of the two oldest males there, with a very dark coat, walked right up to me, looking at me very intently.

"Mr Roper?" he asked, in my language.

I couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d said, "I never heard a green horse smoke a dozen oranges"! If I needed any proof that I had found what I was looking for, you might say this was it!

I soon ascertained that I was talking to one of my grandfather’s animals, whom he had recorded as "Perry". I said that I was indeed "Mr Roper", but not the one he thought I was, and explained that he had known my grandfather Steven. The animal seemed not to understand, even with explanation, that my species only lives 70 or 80 years. (You know, as I’m writing this, it just hit me that this little episode may contain the seeds for future research. No one has ever commented on a significant familial resemblance between me and grandfather, yet this animal, who last saw S.A. Roper something like 9o years before, saw some sort of resemblance clearly. This from a species not noted for intelligence!)

Well, anyhow, the animal named "Perry" had taken with him, or stolen, four sippan-lex BD’s, one of which was still emitting, weakly, the homing signals my scanner had picked up. He also had a much-worn and damaged print-out of a draft of one of my grandfather’s reports, which he willingly gave me. I have arranged to have a fresh copy sent to the Viviparian Committee.

Look, the stuff I’m sending you is all beat up and crummy looking, and there’s writing of some sort on the backs of the sheets. Between the fading of the medium (something so archaic I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anything like it) and my inexperience with reading this kind of script, it’s excruciatingly hard going and I haven’t bothered to try to read it past the first two or three puerile sentences. Really, why anyone would bother trying to teach these creatures to read and write, I don’t know. Whatever it is, it seemed important to that one the old male, "Perry", the one who speaks our language; he drew my attention to it several times, and to humor him I pretended to be interested. There might be something of interest in it, in fact, but who knows if there’s anything that would make the trouble of deciphering it worthwhile. Even if there’s something in there about how the mixed family came about, it would only duplicate what I’ll learn from them during my study. Why don’t you pull holographic facsimiles of Gamper Steve’s report for the Committee, nice and crisp, and just forget about the other stuff.

I wish this weren’t such hard work! The language barrier would be bad enough, but these animals are really and truly disgusting! Everywhere you look–and I mean everywhere–there’s some guy humping someone. Look, I’ve filled you in about the morphographic reports–how all the males of this species are raving bisexuals, and so on. It’s one thing to read about it and quite another to have to watch all these male animals, and I mean male, buggering some other male! Day and night! I mean, you can’t get away from it! I was talking to this "Perry" animal just this morning, and he "introduced" me to a couple of young males (great-great-great grandchildren or something; I’m no great shakes at Wlko kinship terms). The boys got bored pretty quickly–can’t blame them for that, I guess–and the next thing I knew one of them was pulling on the other one’s nuts. Right there! And in a heartbeat, zip-splat, one of them was up to the balls in the other kid’s butt! And there’s nothing perfunctory about it, like a quick blow-job in the engine room. (Some of the crew guys, my dear. Don’t worry. It was tempting, but I didn’t indulge....) And there’s no question they enjoy it. Both of them enjoy it!! It really makes my flesh crawl. Me, I’d rather do field-work among the Kreptissids! I think I would, anyway. Even though they–well, the cannibalism and so on. But if I understand E.N. Saarinen’s report, when he tried to ask Kreptissids about alternatives to vaginal intercourse, they couldn’t even figure out what he was talking about!

Thankfully, the sexual appetites of these weird creatures have been studied to death, so I don’t even have to think about that! In any case, I’ve struck gold here, so it makes sense to tough it out. Wing-Nip and Céleste and Arlene and all the other ghouls at PPF will die from envy. Let them!

Love you to pieces, dearest. And give Allen jr. and Josefina a hug.

Svjachka tvoi

The petition to the VC is on the next siplet (PL-223). Guard it with your life!!