Personal Log of Elizabeth Peterson
Centauri Science Colony Beta-3
Day# 247

In the four Earth-months since discovery of what can only be described as a native communications disk in the Eastern Desert Basin, very little has happened.

Charles and I continue to exhaust our colleagues, and the facility resources, trying to replay the ancient device's initial communique. All to no avail. Though many theories and processes have been explored, we still have the answers we began with: nothing. Charles is concerned that with the manner by which the seventeen inch disk reacted to physical contact by human touch, that it coded our species for no other purpose than hostility. I, however, hope for a less sinister response. (Charles is a man, and as such is prone to lean toward the darker aspects of the unknown, a trait he's had ever since we met, even before our wedding.)

Regardless of the intention behind the creators of the communication disk, I still feel it is my duty, and that of all the researchers here at Beta-3, to reverse-engineer the device in an attempt to fully understand its usage. As I've implied, our endless search goes on.

Personal Log of Elizabeth Peterson
Centauri Science Colony Beta-3
Day# 248

Though we've done our best to provide a home world-type of holiday, I doubt that Christmas will ever be the same in space as it is on Earth. Charles and I have tried, though. Kaleb will turn five this year, and Matthew will be three. It's hard to really comprehend how much these two have grown in the last few months. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was almost providential. Matthew's puzzle-solving abilities are already further advanced than his father's, not a point-of-fact that pleases Charles' ego. (I think it's funny.) Matthew's older brother surprised us all when, about the time the disk was unearthed, he figured out how to access the perimeter security using his neuro-gamegear, hardwired into our home terminal. I proved, understandably, that even the most perfect alarm systems can be bypassed. Thankfully, the township magistrates utilized his pilfering as a toll for upgrading the system, and didn't haul my four-year-old off in chains.

Just a minute, computer log, there seems to be some commotion in the hall . . .

Personal Log of Elizabeth Peterson
Centauri Science Colony Beta-3
Day# 248--Additional...

There isn't any easy to explain the last few hours, since mylast entry. Without any kind of provocation, our science facility has fallen under attack from a race I've never encountered before: tall, barely humanoid creatures, with what appear to be thick mandibles at the jaw, spikes protruding from elbow and knee joints, and a tough outer skin similar to ancient alligators from Earth. They descended without warning, after all the families in the facility had closed down their daily routines to spend Christmas Eve together. Ironic that they should choose one of the only times our alert team has been on minimal staff since the communications disk discovery.

Though Charles feels it a gross misjudgement by myself to continue mental recording of these entries, as a Xenologist, I can't help but hope that they will prove to be useful sometime in the future.

The attacks of these creatures, Xenomen, as I have taken to calling them, have been swift and direct, with little time wasted on the science buildings, and by focusing the main concentration of their attention on the landing slab and the armory. Even though the threat doesn't appear to be directed at our area of the establishment, the majority of the three-thousand occupants at Beta-3 have agreed to relocate the children to the nursery, in the hopes that they will be not only viewed as a non-threatening entity, but completely unworthy of more than scant notice, should the Xenomen turn heir hostilities on the science facilities. We can hope.

Personal Log of Elizabeth Peterson
Centauri Science Colony Beta-3
Day# 249

Christmas day has brought more death and decimation than I could ever believe possible. Though our original hopes came true and the Xenomen have left the children alone, the same cannot be said for the rest of Beta-3. Once prominent military outposts and solid science structures now lay scattered across Centauri's amber sands as an angry child's building blocks knocked about in a fit of rage. What remains of the entire proud complex consists of a few barracks, the nursery and the secondary command center, where the ragtag survivors of this unprovoked onslaught have gathered.

The Xenomen weapons laid waste to so much, without signs of regret or guilt. Super-heated liquid balls of plasma slammed against the hardened sand with such absolute destructive power that not even pools of glass remained to mark the scores. Flashes of light so bright as to temporarily blind Lieutenant Commander Berrin erupt just before the stream of light descends, leaving little time to take shelter. Thus far, the magnetic shielding around the secondary command center and the nursery have held, but as our power reserves rapidly approach depletion, I can only hope that on this holy day God reaches down from the stars to bring an end to the slaughter.

Personal Log of Elizabeth Peterson
Centauri Science Colony Beta-3
Day# 249--Additional

As Fate can never be content to sit back and watch, but has to twist the events of mankind to his cruel whims, the unthinkable has finally occurred: moments ago the magnetic field which domed the nursery collapsed. The Xenomen seem to have a complete lack of compassion for our children, and the nursery is now ablaze! A team, headed by our less-than-recovered Lieutenant Commander Berrin, has gathered what little weaponry is left in the secondary command center and they are now en-route to the nursery to fight for survivors. How could we let this happen?! God, please hear my prayers...

Personal Log of Elizabeth Peterson
Centauri Science Colony Beta-3
Day# 248--Additional--Additional

As the Day After approaches, silence has spread over the battlefield. Though the nursery structure still blazes with eerie green flame, the devastating splashes of light-green plasma no longer threaten. Still no word from the Commander, or Charles...

Personal Log of Elizabeth Peterson
Centauri Science Colony Beta-3
Day# 249

Saints and Heavens be praised!! In what I can only describe as a miracle handed down by the gentlest of Divinity, the team returned with the children, who, guided by Kaleb, had apparently taken refuge in the complex's substructure. I never would have even thought to send them there. Charles is injured, but notseriously. The one I fear for is Berrin. Though his eyes are clear and he seems more in control of his mental faculties than I have ever seen him, I cannot believe the tale he related...

Charles was hit by falling debris and being attended by one of the medics in the group. He begged Berrin to find our boys, find them and bring the back to me alive. The Lieutenant Commander could not refuse.

But when he found the children, it was apparent that Kaleb was not with them. Matthew told him in language far too advanced for a soon-to-be-three-year-old, that Kaleb could not keep the younger children safe without holding the door shut while the others descended to the vacuum-sealed doors of the fall-out shelters below the facilities. Even though it was suicide, Kaleb remained behind and sacrificed himself to save his brother and the others. How a four-year-old boy could ever understand the concept behind self-sacrifice baffles me, despite years of training and schooling on the mysteries of human behavior. If that weren't enough to blow my ever-more-fragile mind, Berrin relates that he could not, in good conscience, leave without Kaleb's body, and eventually had to be pulled, screaming from the burning wreckage of the nursery. There they all stood, watching the children's sanctuary burn from the absolute malevolence that the Xenomen showed the human nhabitants of Beta-3. Then, when the flames seemed their hottest and the thought of there being anything left to even scatter to the hot desert winds, someoneemerged from the inferno.

A Xenon man, for that's the only way he could be described, baring distinctly delicate human characteristics as well, approached them, cradling the still-breathing body of my oldest son--barely breathing, but alive. So awed were the men in the rescue team, that none of them could respond as the Xenoman reached them and held out the human boy. Charles, wounded, yet still nearly-overcome with emotion, accepted Kaleb's limp body, clutching it to him in the fear it would be maliciously ripped away. Lines creased the smooth skin of the ancient face as Kaleb's ancient savior smiled. Then the Xenoman touched my son's face, telling Charles it was destiny that he save the life of The Axiom in an articulate way of speaking that betrayed even more humanity that his curious physical characteristics did; without another word, the Xenoman crossed Kaleb's forehead with a long, dextrous finger, then retreated into the wind-stripped desert with long, determined strides.

Charles can only describe the man as a Xenon Priest, but the idea of this demonic species possessing any kind of humility or spiritual belief system is beyond my ability to believe. Yet still, I cannot deny that this mysterious creature gifted me with a Christmas present of undeniable value: the life of my firstborn son. Despite my bitterness and hatred for the things done to my friends and my home here, the scientist inside me insists that there must be more to these Xenomen than merely the desire toannihilate. The compassion of this stranger has proven that to me. Whether this truth is possible I do not know. But as a scientist, and indebted mother, I will find out...somehow.