The rather loose introduction to my Alien Contact anthology, which I posted on April 25, would be a good place to start, if you haven't already done so....
"The Road Not Taken" by Harry Turtledove
This story was originally published in the November 1985 issue of Analog Science Fiction/Science Fact, which has been edited by Stanley Schmidt since December 1978. (Now that is a legacy!) The story is approximately 9,300 words in length.
When first published, "The Road Not Taken" was listed as being written by "Eric G. Iverson." According to Harry's website, his first two novels were published in 1979 by Belmont Towers, and his editor "did not think people would believe the author's real name was 'Turtledove' and suggested that he come up with something more Nordic." However, by 1986, he was publishing under his real name.
Toward the beginning of September 2008 I submitted a bit of PR to various online SF info and news sites, in which I requested that readers recommend their favorite alien contact story. As an added incentive, I turned the request into a contest: at the end of the month I selected three names at random and sent them a signed, numbered, limited edition chapbook from an earlier project in which I had been involved. One of the three winners was Steven H. Silver, whose name may be familiar to some as he is the administrator of the annual Sidewise Award for Alternate History; Steven also serves as one of the award's judges. And, it just so happened that Steven had also recommended "The Road Not Taken," for which I was quite pleased given that I have little knowledge of Analog stories, which tend to gain little recognition: they aren't typically nominated for awards or selected for year's best anthologies.
I've read quite a bit of Harry Turtledove's novel-length work, The Guns of the South being one of my favorites; I also proofed and copyedited his novel After the Downfall for Night Shade Books in 2008. So I was intrigued by this story of alien contact, from one of the premier writers of alternate history.
Each of us, at least once in our lives -- if not more often -- becomes so involved in something (or someone!), so focused -- let's call it extreme tunnel vision -- to the exclusion of all else. Now, extrapolate that to an entire culture, and then to an entire race of beings. And you have the alien Roxolani in the story "The Road Not Taken."
I've read quite a bit of Harry Turtledove's novel-length work, The Guns of the South being one of my favorites; I also proofed and copyedited his novel After the Downfall for Night Shade Books in 2008. So I was intrigued by this story of alien contact, from one of the premier writers of alternate history.
Each of us, at least once in our lives -- if not more often -- becomes so involved in something (or someone!), so focused -- let's call it extreme tunnel vision -- to the exclusion of all else. Now, extrapolate that to an entire culture, and then to an entire race of beings. And you have the alien Roxolani in the story "The Road Not Taken."
Captain Togram was using the chamberpot when the Indomitable broke out of hyperdrive....
...he stowed the chamberpot in its niche. The metal cover he slid over it did little to relieve the stench. After sixteen days in space, the Indomitable reeked of ordure, stale food, and staler bodies. It was no better in any other ship of the Roxolan fleet, or any other. Travel between the stars was simply like that. Stinks and darkness were part of the price the soldiers paid to make the kingdom grow.
Togram picked up a lantern and shook it to rouse the glowmites inside. They flashed silver in alarm. Some races, the captain knew, lit their ships with torches or candles, but glowmites used less air, even if they could only shine intermittently.
Ever the careful soldier, Togram checked his weapons while the light lasted. He always kept all four of his pistols loaded and ready to use; when landing operations began, one pair would go on his belt, the other in his boottops. He was more worried about his sword. The perpetually moist air aboard ship was not good for the blade. Sure enough, he found a spot of rust to scour away.