Fiction
Fantasy
With supreme self-control, Zetar repressed the desire to tap a limb tip against the viewing station. Stars whirled by, their planets boasting no sign of intelligent life. It had been countless quevlons since the last fruitful contact with another space-faring race. Zetar had helped negotiate the treaty dividing starfields between them for exploration. It seemed like a triumph at the time, and yielded this mission. Zetar now suspected the technologically superior Ultinas hoped the Dolremys would get lost in this barren stretch of space while they expanded their own influence in other directions.
Zetar’s personal message frequency flared. “A communications probe of unknown design has been isolated,” whistled a technician. “Your instructions?”
“Bring it aboard, purify the probe and decipher its message.” Zetar left his station for the tech deck.
“The language is primitive,” the technician explained. “When you compose a reply, it will be easy to code into their sounds.”
Zetar listened to the recorded alien utterances, then sent back a message of peace and hope, proposing a meeting. The Earth creatures were not as advanced as the Ultinas, but promised to be diverting.
Columbus was bored. Used to having the run of the ship, he felt cramped in his crate. His master, the captain, said he was in Ambassador Andrew’s way. The dog could not imagine how. Smelling a new planet outside, he ached to explore. His stomach rumbled. No one had fed him since breakfast. He pushed the latch with his paw. If the captain was going to ignore him today, he would find someone else to play with—preferably someone with food. The latch pin popped out and the crate door swung open.
The ship-wide comm boomed, “Alien ship at agreed-upon coordinates. Surveillance team: disembark to set up security perimeter.” Columbus knew the word “disembark.” He headed hopefully for the main exterior hatch.
Six soldiers jogged down the ramp. Columbus trotted happily behind them. None looked back or offered him a scrap, so Columbus wandered off on an interesting scent trail. He licked a slimy thing crawling under some spiky bushes, but the taste stung his tongue. Veering away from a powerful stench, he perked up his ears at a mechanical sound. Musical chirruping and a delectable smell led Columbus to new benefactors.
The donut-shaped ship sat in a clearing near a cluster of giant ferns arched over a still pool. Beings walked from it toward a flat, shining table. To Columbus, it looked like dinnertime. He sauntered forward, tail waving.
The tall, slim beings froze in unison, multiple legs splayed. They turned to one other, clacking their legs together, murmuring in music-like whistles. Gathering behind the table, they faced Columbus.
“It must be an Earth creature,” said Zetar.
“Indeed, nothing else on this planet has approached us,” agreed Etrida.
“It is ahead of schedule.” Xona sounded annoyed. “The meeting is not for another two xarms.”
Zetar consulted his timekeeper device. “There is no accounting for the ways of aliens. We must greet it.”
Zetar, flanked by Xona and Etrida, reached out their upper limbs in greeting and spoke in Earth language. “Welcome, Earth Ambassador. You honor us by coming so far to speak with us.”
The response was high-pitched and sharp. It sounded nothing like the probe’s transmissions. Zetar whistled to Etrida, “Is this a new greeting protocol?”
“No,” sang Xona. “It is a different dialect. We are scrambling to process it through the universal translator. Perhaps it will repeat the sound, so we can interpret it properly.”
The technician tipped the translation cone to receive all incoming data from the ambassador. After a few more exchanges, the translation solidified and they began to understand.
“I am happy to see you. Your language is beautiful!” said the ambassador.
Zetar was pleased. “Come, sit with us.”
The ambassador sat. A long tongue lolled out of its mouth. Etrida flinched at this display and Xona pinched all smell slits flat at the wind of its breath. Zetar was careful to appear at ease.
The Earth ambassador lifted a limb and placed it delicately on the conversation disk, emitting a musical tone. The translation came back immediately. “What is that delicious smell?”
Zetar thought of the blooming thelanus inside the ship, used to recycle the air, and the sweetness its flowers sent out. The cook was preparing a refreshment to sustain their energies through the talks. Glancing at a third limb, Zetar saw it was the time scheduled for eating it.
Xona’s legs vibrated as a drop of fluid fell from the ambassador’s tongue to the polished conversation disk. “I am hungry,” it said plainly. “Would you feed me? There are many people on my home, but no food for me.” Its eyes pleaded in a way that made refusal impossible.
Etrida, usually very detached during negotiations, turned toward the technician. “Send the cook out with refreshment. We will share it with our guest.”
Zetar sang approval of this gesture. The cook brought a large tray. The nutritious scent wafted through the clearing. The ambassador stood on its hind limbs and hopped around the conversation disk.
“Is entertainment part of its function?” wondered Xona.
“I think it is a ritual blessing,” said Etrida, obviously charmed.
“Please eat,” said Zetar.
The ambassador whined something untranslatable, then said, “You must give food to me. It would be rude for me to take it from your table. I have strict orders on this.”
“How odd,” muttered Xona.
“Are we to serve it?” asked Etrida, looking offended.
“Just throw it,” said the ambassador. “That is how people treat me.”
Zetar was shocked, but being senior cross-cultural specialist, knew there was no choice. Picking up a spiced filvar root, Zetar tossed it to the ambassador, who caught it in mid-throw, snapping with powerful jaws. Xona and Etrida followed Zetar’s example.
“Oh, thank you!” said the ambassador. “This is the best food I’ve ever had.”
On all four limbs, the ambassador came around the conversation disk and laid its head on Zetar’s upper lower limb. “Pet me.”
After consulting a linguist to make sure of the translation, Zetar used a limb-tip to stimulate the skin under the ambassador’s short fur. The alien sighed with pleasure, and then curled up to sleep at their feet.
“This is a simple race,” whispered Zetar. “All it longs for is food and kindness. It makes no conditions or demands.”
“The ambassador’s planet is obviously over-populated,” said Xona. “The inhabitants ignore each other and are always hungry.”
“Perhaps that is why they ventured into the skies,” offered Etrida, “though the ambassador’s intelligence is similar to our lower animals. How could they build a working vessel and not get lost in the vastness of space?”
Zetar made a gesture of amazement. “While the ambassador sleeps, let us compose a report.”
Xona was reading back the final draft to Zetar when perimeter sensors indicated the approach of a party of large bipeds.
“I can hear them,” said Etrida. “They cannot be hostile, for there is no stealth. One sings softly. It must be the leader. Others follow.”
Trees parted, and out strode a tall, broad being, supported by two fat, ridiculous limbs. Its round, bulging eyes stared at Earth’s ambassador. The others nearly tripped when their leader came to an abrupt halt in the clearing. Zetar sensed the lead alien was confused. As it began to speak, the communications technician scuttled across the intervening space, pointing a data-gathering cone at it to collect the sounds. The alien’s color changed subtly, and it stiffened.
Columbus, hearing the din, sat up, stretched, and went bounding toward the strange bipeds. It was obvious the ambassador knew them. Were they servants?
At that moment the translation of the new alien’s words came through. “But this is the captain’s pet! How did that animal get here?”
“Pet? Animal?” Zetar whirled three limbs in a questioning stance. “Why do you say these things about Columbus, and by whose authority?”
The alien’s color stabilized, and it puffed out its torso. “I am Ambassador Andrews of Planet Earth. And that—” it pointed a tiny upper limb at Columbus “—is a domestic animal belonging to our ship’s captain.”
Etrida backed away from the translation cone, limbs trembling. “Belonging? Is he implying that Columbus is some kind of slave?”
Xona’s expression was cautious. “Either the translation is in error or this answers your earlier doubts about Columbus’ intelligence. Shall we clarify?” In unison, they sent a questing whistle to their superior.
Zetar moved into the space between the conversation disk and the new arrivals, crooking upper limbs in a stance reminiscent of a parent scolding a child. Though it did not shrink away, Ambassador Andrews’ color changed again, as though in comprehension.
“I am Zetar, Ambassador from the Planet Dolremyr, with my chief associates Xona and Etrida. I must ask, Ambassador Andrews, why you sent Columbus to us first? Is it not your representative? Our talks with Columbus have been simple and pure. We were about to send a report to our home world based on them. Do you represent another faction of Earth culture? Please enlighten us.”
It took a week of diplomacy to untangle the mess made by one curious dog. In the end, the Dolremys laughed about it, in their incredible melodious manner. When a trade mission was established, the first item requested from Earth was a breeding pair of dogs.
Columbus readily accepted the T-bone steak in his bowl that night as the first of many eaten for the rest of his happy life.
Click Here for Easy-to-Read B&W Format
If this contribution met with your satisfaction, please consider making a contribution of your own so we may pay our authors and keep the magazine delivering great speculative fiction far into the future. Thank you for visiting.
Copyright 2008, Donna Fujimoto. All rights reserved. Writing for fun since she was six, Donna began to take it seriously a few years ago. She has been publishing inspirational and journalistic pieces, and is now moving into science fiction.
Contents
|