by T M Roy
“Do you?”
“A mistake,” H’renzek muttered. “Leaving you alone so long while I’ve been on assignments.” He threw out his arms and looked ceilingward. “Goddess give me strength,” he said before turning his attention back to her. “But what else could I have done? I had no choice. The ship captains refused to take an unruly youngster.”
Povre had started a protest of her innocence.
“An unruly youngster,” he insisted. “Always getting into trouble, always getting away with it, too. Surprised you made it this far. Beautiful, brilliant, no doubt, but spoiled. As intrepid and headstrong as…”
As Silpova, he’d almost said. She knew it. H’renzek always changed the subject when his dead Life Mate entered the conversation. Povre wanted to get him to talk about her. To tell her what really happened to change his life so dramatically. Instead, not wanting to turn him off completely, she leaned against him and put her arms around his neck. “Do you love me anyway?” she asked with her most winning smile.
“Go away, Povre. Go study something.” She could still feel the healthy swat he’d landed on her bottom. And then his words: “Yes, Povre, I love you. You know I do. But I swear, one of these days I’m going to sit you down for a long overdue talking to…”
But just a few hours ago, he’d abandoned her. Deactivated all her equipment, too. Oh, he had to do it, but she never thought it would actually come to this.
Or that he actually, really would.
Her throat tightened. Povre knew what she should do. She should just back out, leave, try to remain hidden and hope that the others would decide to come back for her. As unlikely as H’renzek made that sound in one of his constant lectures of the rules, Povre knew there remained a marginal chance. As long as she didn’t attract attention…
Attract attention? She’d already made an indelible impression upon one of the natives. She had no way to make him forget or keep silent short of taking him prisoner or killing him. Both options were out. Povre broke enough rules already, and violence was abhorrent to her.
She had already placed herself in his custody, whether he knew it or not. If, by some miracle, H’renzek appeared and K’nt was willing to let her go, that would be that. But Povre couldn’t see that happening, at least not anytime soon. They both needed each other right now. K’nt wasn’t sound enough to travel any distance, and neither was she. They both needed to heal and rest.
“We’re stuck with each other, K’nt.” Povre made gestures like those that he used in the attempt to define her words. She wished she were a full telepath, able to project to and receive thoughts from another. Her empathic talent wasn’t all that strong, especially if she was unable to physically touch, or at least stand very near, the entity with which she attempted to communicate. Besides, Povre’s small psi talent was a genetic oddity to her race. She wished she had the talent to make word pictures the way he did. Sure, she could sketch atoms and molecules and numbers all day long, but those wouldn’t express what she needed to say.
He was trying so hard to understand.
“You and I need to help each other right now.” She looked down for a moment. “According to my rules, I am the one who is here uninvited, and now since I am discovered, I must do as you say. This is your planet, after all. Not mine. Mine is far away.”
She saw comprehension grow on his face. A line between his eyebrows deepened. So did his feelings of worry. He pushed back a few dangling strands of hair from his eyes and sent his glance toward the sky as if seeking his inspiration from the clouds.
After letting out a long, long breath, he said something else in his language, then shrugged, and added, “Eat food.”
Povre felt another smile surface. How so typically male. Eat first. Save the universe later. But he was right. Her father always stressed one of the survival principals all Exploration teams were taught: when a body’s essential survival needs were met, all other problems fell into better perspective. It was a good idea.
“Let’s eat food,” she agreed.
* * * * *
“NO FISHING GEAR, NO firearms in sight, looks okay…” There was a long silence. “You’re not going to believe this, Jack.”
“What?” Jack zipped his fly back up and refastened his belt. He kicked dirt and pine needles over the damp spot he’d made. He wanted his lunch. Rumors of strange lights—seen as far away as Bend, some ten miles east southeast, and Sunriver, some fourteen miles south—over this part of the Deschutes National Forest be darned. Most of the time it turned out to be nothing more than the rotating beacons from small local airports reflecting in clouds. Still, far too many acres had been destroyed by fire last summer. He and Cody couldn’t afford to disregard any reports of odd things. He thought longingly of the hot coffee and sandwiches stashed back in their pickup.
“There’s a guy, probably the one who left his motorcycle covered up and chained near the trailhead with the note containing personal information in case of accident, and the dates he intended to be in the area.”
Jack remembered. Dr. Kent Xavier. They had his field guides and manuals for sale at all the ranger stations and National Forest offices. He’d found them mighty useful to familiarize himself with the area when he transferred up from the Modoc National Forest in Northern California. “Yeah, so? He did everything by the book there. Is he cutting trees, poaching, or doing drugs?”
“Nope.”
“Then what?”
“He’s with someone…”
“What’s so odd about that, Cody?”
“Well, his note said he was alone. And…she, I think it’s a she anyway…is blue,” said his partner.
Jack spun and took the binoculars from Cody. Since they were still on a strap around his partner’s neck, Jack nearly throttled Cody in the attempt. “Holy Saint Christopher!”
Cody untangled his neck from the strap and rubbed the red marks.
“Aliens!” gasped Jack.
“I think we gotta call somebody,” said Cody.
“Who?”
“Well, the district office for starters,” suggested Cody.
“Shouldn’t we keep an eye on them?”
“That’s why we carry these cell phones and radios, Jack,” said Cody patiently.
“And what if they leave in the meantime?”
“We follow them.”
“Wait a minute. Everyone back at the office is going to think we’re nuts.” Jack grabbed Cody’s arm. “My brother was in the service. In security. We watched that show they had on TV and he told me he and his buddies used to pray they wouldn’t be the ones on shift if a UFO or anything ever showed up. Those guys are never heard from again. The government just sweeps them up under the rugs…they never see their family, or girlfriends, or anything…ever.”
Cody rolled his eyes. “Right, and you believe that? Don’t tell me you believe X-files too, right?”
Jack nodded. “My brother was serious. He had a buddy once—”
Cody stopped him with his hand. “Okay, okay. I believe you. But what do you suggest? It’s our duty.” Cody looked uncertain now. “Look, there aren’t any laws about extraterrestrials visiting national forest lands, are there?”
“Damned if I know. They never covered alien attackers in Ranger 101.” Jack’s voice was thick with sarcasm.
“And they’re not doing anything illegal,” added Cody. “Well, I don’t suppose, if that is an alien, that it has legal immigration papers or a passport, in which case we’d have to—”
“Don’t go there,” warned Jack, rubbing the lenses of the binoculars. “Maybe it’s just a trick of the light. Maybe she fell into the water and is blue because of hypothermia. Maybe it’s makeup for a movie or something.”
“A movie? We would have heard about it. They would be a whole lot more than just two of ‘em down there. Besides they’d need permits for something like that.”
“Maybe it’s not a legal movie.” Jack sent his partner a sideways glance.
“What we n
eed to do is get closer and make sure. Damn it, we should just walk down there and…”
“And introduce ourselves, and get vaporized? Maybe we should just forget we saw anything.”
Jack narrowed his eyes at his partner. “Look, maybe that guy is in trouble. He’s limping. Maybe he needs help.”
“Damn it, Jack, you saw that movie, what was it called? Something about the Fourth of July. The one about the alien invasion. And all fiction aside, even if they are both human you know there’s folk hiding out all over this state growing marijuana and gosh knows what else on Federal land. I’m not going down there unarmed—if at all.” Cody took a couple of steps back. “And if it is aliens, we have to get people who know how to handle that.”
“Maybe we can make an anonymous report,” said Jack.
“And just who are we gonna tell?”
“ETIS,” said Jack after a long pause. “You know, Extraterrestrial Intelligence Search. They’re not connected with the government. That’d be better than looking like a couple of idiots back at the district office.”
Cody had his phone out and dialed information.
* * * * *
POVRE WAS HOLDING OUT a handful of fuzzy gray-blue berries and trying to explain to K’nt that they were good to eat, at least for her, as well as numerous small animals and birds—some of the same he’d shown her in his drawings. She wanted to know his words for them. Then it happened. Her race, not far removed from hunter-gatherer primitives living in trees, retained much of the instincts possessed by less advanced lifeforms.
Her ears went flat against her skull. Her vision blurred for a second as it augmented into its natural infrared range, which was induced otherwise only by focused concentration. The hairs on her body from nape to seat stood on edge. Her body went on instinctive alert, thousands of odors becoming sharp, clear, almost like sounds in her nose, colors in her mind’s eye.
The tiny objects in her hand fell to the ground and she turned slowly, her enhanced heat-sensitive vision sweeping the forest.
She heard K’nt make inquiring sounds in his language, but ignored him, carefully sweeping her gaze in a wide arc.
There. So far as to be yellow-orange instead of hot-red. Even as she watched, the blobs of distorted heat sources moved away, but they were K’nt sized sources and her instincts said they, like him, were male. Povre pushed every ounce of her empathic talent forward, but couldn’t reach far enough. Still, she felt unsettled, uneasy, and quite sure the two other native beings didn’t mean her well.
K’nt touched her shoulder. As she turned her head to look at him, she blinked her eyes a few times to re-adjust her vision back into its normal range.
Kent’s entire body punctuated his query.
Povre held out two fingers. What was that counting word? And that other one she picked up while they were drawing? “Two. Same K’nt.” She put her two fingers against his chest.
His brown eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. Interesting. Was his sense of smell more sensitive than hers? Maybe he could spot them better than she could, as well.
She put her other hand up to her eyes and then pointed into the forest and back again. “Watching us.”
His dark gaze went uneasily in that direction and he frowned. The deep line between his brows returned.
“They’re gone now,” she added in her language, with more signs. They were getting good at this. She already knew his intellect was enormous, matching or exceeding hers. If only they could meet on equal ground. If only they could overcome the language barrier. She could try to merge with him and absorb information from the speech center of his brain. It was far too risky: her reaction to procedures like that was never a good one and no telling what it might do to him. There was no one around to help either of them in case of an emergency.
But maybe they would have a chance yet to have some meaningful two-way conversation, she thought hopefully. If they kept up the pace of learning they started with, pretty soon they’d be communicating with ease without signs, pictures, and strength of will.
A niggle of doubt entered that thought.
We won’t have time.
He spoke. She picked up several words that were becoming familiar: we, here. He sounded urgent, and she understood a moment later when he started piling things back in his pack.
* * * * *
“WE LEAVE HER NOW. We’ll take it one step at a time, Povre, but we’re out of here, babe.” Kent scrambled to his mountain tent and started disassembling it. He didn’t take time to roll the fabric. He shoved it hastily into the small sack. The shock-corded poles and pegs went into another.
He’d almost panicked when she looked at him a few minutes ago—the whites of her eyes in full eclipse by the violet irises until, after a few blinks, they reverted to normal. Jeez! What was that all about? It served to remind him for certain she was truly alien, and he’d better not get too comfortable or think about her with anything but his intellect. Damn it anyway, but it was all too easy for him to feel like it was completely normal to be around her!
He pointed to her pack. “What do you have in there we don’t need?” He had to try several different movements and signs to make her understand.
In answer, Povre took her pack, opened it, and without ceremony dumped the contents on the ground.
Kent could only stare for a moment. “Holy crap, you are carrying rocks!”
He crouched to examine the pile. Rocks and stones, the largest no bigger than his fist, some of every type to be found on the surface nearby. Small containers, in a few clear ones he could see twigs, roots, seeds, soil. In another container was a feather, probably from a crow. A few other long tubes, also clear, held cuttings of the few green plants offered in this season and location: ponderosa, lodgepole, sugar pine, and juniper.
And several gadgets and gizmos of mysterious function and various size.
If they had the time, he’d love to go over each of those gizmos one by one. But from what he understood, they were broken. He still didn’t understand how, only that they didn’t work any more. Even after she indicated the fact, more than once Povre still reached for something in the pack or on her belt, probably to record observations or test substances, and replace the device with a sad look and sheepish smile that said “I forgot” loud and clear.
“We can bury them,” said Kent, making digging motions. He sensed her reluctance to part with her equipment.
She shook her head. Passing her hand over the ground and making a humming noise, she sent Kent a questioning, raised-eyebrow look.
“I didn’t think of metal detectors,” he admitted. “But…how do we know our metal detectors can find your metal?”
Povre, when she caught his meaning, crossed her arms. A soft growl escaped her. She bent for his notebook, which poked up from a pocket of his knapsack, and opened it to the sketches of atomic elements and compounds they’d both drawn to illustrate basics like air and water.
One long slim finger tapped the first model of hydrogen and oxygen. “Same, K’nt,” she said in a you-should-know-better tone of voice.
“Ah, right, I goofed on that. Of course it’s possible our entire periodic table of elements matches yours, but I doubt it. Anyway, Povre, we don’t need extra weight slowing us down. I have the bare minimums. We already have to carry extra water. There are no plugs for your hair dryer and curling iron, sweetie, so we have to do something.”
Had she been human, Kent would’ve sworn she was about to burst into tears. Then she sighed, got on her knees, and started to dig like a terrier after a rat while Kent watched, his mouth opening wider than before. He closed it with a snap.
Dirt flew and the hole deepened. He had to wonder if her fingernails were made of iron. Her excavation went deeper by the second and soon she was leaning half in it and still digging. Kent found himself contemplating the tightest, sweetest little derriere in the galaxy as her jumpsuit stretched tight over dangerous curves.
From the back, with the blue skin hidden fr
om sight, she looked as human as…well, as any woman. Matter of fact, if he could hide those six-fingered hands and somehow color her silky blue fur, plus keep her hair over her ears, she’d pass for an exotic-eyed Afro-Eurasian. All she would need then was another foot and a half in height, and most people would instantly assume she was some exotic high fashion model.
“Yeah, but could I convince you to keep your hands in gloves or in your pockets, and then get you to take a bath in hair coloring?”
Povre swept her gear into the hole and then added items from her belt. Several flat rocks went next, then the dirt. She took another rock and tamped the soil tight. Kent helped her strew pine needles and other detritus over the spot. But Povre wasn’t done. She limped into the tree line and stopped at a big black boulder some long-ago volcano had upchucked in a seismic fit.
“No, that’s impossible,” whispered Kent.
Povre bent down and tested the boulder with one hand. Then two. Then crouched like an Olympic snatch-and-jerk weight lifter.
Kent covered his eyes. Okay, so he peeked from the tiniest crack in his fingers. She didn’t lift the rock. She pushed it. Rocked it. Maybe even cursed and yelled at it a bit. Rolled it end over end. Whatever she did, the massive boulder moved closer and closer to her targeted spot.
It had to weigh as much as a full sized pickup truck and didn’t have wheels to make it roll. To see a slender, fragile looking female handle the monolith with such ease unnerved him to the extent he remained in place instead of moving to help her.
He couldn’t have done it. No way. Not in a million.
She gave the rock a final shove and let it thump in place over her cache. Dusting her hands together, Povre returned to the naked spot formerly housing the huge rock for Lord knew how many thousands of years—until now—and proceeded to make it look like any other patch of open ground along the riverbank.
“Remind me not to get you mad at me,” he said. “It’s a good thing you seem peaceful and even-tempered, Povre.”
Maybe mild-mannered was a better choice. The term popped into his head and dragged up images of Superman with it. “I think I’m beginning to understand what Lois saw in Clark.” He chuckled. “But if you get really pissed I only hope I’m in the next county, or at the very least not in the path of direct fire.”