Uninvited

by Carol Buhler

  “They seem benign,” I said softly. “I want you to take the kids and head to your mother’s as soon as you can. At least until we know more about them.”

  She ignored my request, as I was afraid she would. “I do hope they are nice. I see you brought reinforcements.” She waved at a couple of the riders approaching the house. “We’ll have to gather on the patio. I’ll tell Jula.”

  As she turned to leave, she slipped her hand across my frowning face. “We’ll see how it goes. If they appear dangerous, I’ll leave. But I, too, want to know more. The children will stay in the cellar while we learn.”

  It was the best I’d get from her, I knew. She wasn’t the descendent of many generations of warriors for nothing. And getting Jol to go to safety away from our home would probably be impossible. His reeth-mate would help him, not listen to me and my desires.

  I had time to change into formal Joe Family Speaker-wear, black, high-necked tunic and trousers with the silver piping, although none of the other don could. They assembled behind the house as Korola and I met our guests at the door. The humans had walked swiftly and didn’t seem tired, a fact I noted for future reference. We always flew such a distance. I wondered if I’d have kept up with them on foot.

  “Beautiful place you have here, Joedon,” Captain Samuel Jefferson said after I’d introduced my wife. Curiously, he’d taken her hand and kissed the back of it. She and I exchanged confused glances at his action but his men didn’t react as if it were unusual, although they stared rudely at Korola. She, too, towered over them. And the Captain seemed decidedly uneasy. We do outnumber them almost four to one.

  Now that I saw his men up close, I wondered if they were all male, as I’d assumed. At least three had soft, gleaming brown hair wrapped in braids around their heads. And their bare hands were slimmer, more delicate than the others. I discerned nothing from his introduction. They had long names which I couldn’t remember only moments after he’d said them. The three with the braids on their heads had voices in a much higher tonal range than the others. If they are as much like us as they appear, those three are female.

  I depended on Aarnyon, with a reeth’s absolute memory, to drill me later on the strange names, matching them with the faces and hair color, which he gathered through my eyes.

  “Thank you, Captain Samuel Jefferson. Welcome to our home. Will you please follow me?”

  He did, talking constantly. “You can just call me Captain, or Sam, if you want. We don’t use all of our name every time we speak with one another. Like I’m sure your folks don’t go around calling you Supreme Don Joedon all the time. Don’t they just call you Joe?”

  “Uh...no. My name is Joedon. And that is what I am called. We do, at times, shorten names, like Jol’s, but not mine.”

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to offend. You see, Captain is my title, defines me for my job; Samuel is what we call a given name, decided by my parents when I was born; and Jefferson is my family name. Most folks just call me Sam.”

  “Odd. My family name is Joe. We are the Joe family. And since I am the head of the family, I am Joedon.”

  “I see.” He took a few steps silently. I sensed nothing but curiosity from him as he looked carefully at everything we passed. Peter Mason wasn’t reading nearly as calm as his Captain. However, he wasn’t sending dangerous emotions my way, either. Sardon walked behind him, not saying a word, and I knew he depended on my sensing of emotion ability to inform us of threat. I sensed none and told him so through our reeth-mates.

  By the time we’d reached the patio, Sam was talking again. “We have a whole boatload of people wanting to start a new life. Hope we can work something out with you people so that we can stay.”

  Boatload? What’s that?

  Since Sardon was approaching, I didn’t have a chance to ask for an explanation. “Sardon and I represent the ruling families on Gareeth,” I said instead. “We’ll listen to your proposal, then query our other families.” I glanced at the other don, standing in almost a half-circle, gazing at the humans with either distress, disgust, or interest. Internally, I sighed. I already know which of the don families will voice the most dissent.

  “What’s this Gareeth?” Sam asked, as his people crowded through the doorway behind us.

  I looked at him with my brows clenched. “The name of our place.”

  “Is that the whole planet? Not just a city or a state?”

  “It is the name of our place,” I insisted. “I don’t know what a planet, a city or a state is.” I’d always been a good mimic; I didn’t stumble over the strange words.

  To my annoyance, the man named Peter Mason pushed himself between Sam and me. “It doesn’t really matter. Like you said, it’s your place. All we want is a small part of this planet, anyway. You won’t even know we’re here.”

  I ignored his rudeness, but felt a frisson of apprehension at what I sensed behind the man’s forced pleasantness. Turning a shoulder on him, I beckoned to Bardon to join us, and introduced him to Sam’s people. “I apologize for not remembering all of your names. Perhaps you could go with my friend Bardon and help yourselves to refreshments while Sam and I discuss your purpose here.” I motioned toward the other don, hoping only Sardon and I would recognize the stiffness in their stances. “Everyone here should understand you as well as I do. Please, become acquainted.”

  The three I’d decided were female smiled at Bardon and went forward immediately. The others seemed to hesitate. Sam called after the three. “Gemma, test before anyone eats or drinks anything. We can’t allow the crew to get sick.”

  “Of course, Sir,” one said. The other five joined Bardon but Peter Mason stayed by Sam’s side.

  Again, I ignored him. Turning to Sardon, I shared the naming conventions of these humans. Peter Mason said, “Call me Pete.” They hadn’t explained fully; I assumed the first part of the names I’d heard earlier were the given names and the ones I should use. Pete, however, was not the same as Peter. I’ll figure it out later.

  The four of us stood apart from the rest as we discussed in more detail what the humans wanted. Sardon and I tentatively agreed to spread the word of their arrival and their hopes. We gave them permission to study the land with the ground-landers they described as long as they didn’t try to put pressure on one family or another. Silently, I detailed Aarnyon and the other reeth attached to the Joe family to keep watch on everywhere the humans went and everything they did with their vehicles. Using their invisibility screens, the reeth would assure the humans never realized they were being spied upon.

  “We will decide as a unit what we allow you,” Sardon said firmly. “You do your explorations. We’ll convene and have an answer soon.”

  “How are you gonna contact the others?” Pete asked. “From what you’ve said, you’re way spread out. And I don’t see radio towers or satellite dishes.”

  I found him harder to understand than Sam. He seemed to use words that were similar to what I thought he meant, yet not the same. “Gonna” must mean “going to.” What “spread out” meant, I had no idea, but neither Sardon nor I intended to tell these humans about our means of communication via reeth telepathy.

  “We’ll let you know soon,” Sardon repeated, ignoring the question.

  The humans stayed the rest of the afternoon, eating and talking. We learned much about their home world. I gradually began to understand that to them, “world” meant the entire land mass and that “cities,” “states,” and “countries” were political divisions based on agreements between groups of humans. We had nothing similar to those concepts except, perhaps, the vast lands claimed by each family.

  They described violent disputes between groups of people over boundaries between their lands, sending a wave of anxiety through every don on the patio. Again, we knew nothing similar. We never claimed land against another family since there was plenty for all. As a group, right then, we reinforced our determination to keep the humans under strict mind-mate surveillance.

  As the
sun settled in the sky, the humans started back toward their machine, each carrying what they called a torch. They looked nothing like our torches: only slim metal tubes with no flame, just light.

  **

  The various don families chose to gather at Center, our ancient governmental seat, high in the mountains and far from the metal monster the humans called a ship. Everyone had taken the opportunity to pass by my home on their way to the meeting so they could assess the humans and their activities for themselves. Some expressed great fear—others shared Jol’s curiosity. I’d had to explain forcefully to my son why it was important for him not to give the strangers leverage against me by allowing himself to be absorbed into their doings. So he watched from the house as the humans gradually increased in number.

  Over the days following our initial contact, Sam helped me understand that their method of transporting masses of citizens consisted of putting most of them to sleep so they didn’t need to carry foodstuffs and provide activity space for so many aboard the ship. I never did understand how they accomplished what they called deep-sleep. Our people had the ability to enforce a coma on an individual, or ourselves if need be, but the one in the coma had to be meticulously cared for or he would die.

  Only the ten we’d first met had been truly functional during their trip. To me, it seemed extremely foolish, or overly confident, to have exposed their only active beings at our first meeting. Had I known at the time, we could have easily killed them and those asleep would never have awakened.

  I tucked that thought deep in my mind, determined to never voice it among my people. The humans, after all, appeared to be exactly as described. They explored with their low-flying, two-person machines; took soil samples; queried us about wildlife and things we grew for our own consumption; and caused no problems for those of us who lived relatively close.

  Still, fear was voiced, as I’d known it would be, during Council meeting and I had no answers. Every Speaker attended, bringing many of their family members. We hadn’t gathered as a complete group for many years. Usually, whatever we had to discuss, we handled within neighborhood groups and the only real assembly occurred at the annual meeting, which in truth was more social than governmental in nature.

  Seventy-nine vociferous family heads, ranging between ancient and me as the youngest, did not allow easy discourse. Although I was the hereditary leader, my father had only died two years previously and the old don challenged my every statement. Fortunately, Cousin Sardon held strong influence within the Council and he continually reminded the Speakers of my position, my training, and my intelligence. He and his cronies pulled the members into grudging acceptance of the human’s presence as peaceful settlers and, after three days of argument, we ratified a treaty that allowed them to select parcels of ground, defined by the humans themselves as quarter-sections, to build homes and farm for their own support.

  Sam was ecstatic when I brought him the agreement to sign; he did so immediately, with a flourish. He hardly looked at it, but then, he, Pete, Sardon, and I had hammered out the language before I’d taken it to the Council, who had demanded few changes.

  I didn’t share with Sam the parting words of my greatest adversary, Xagdon, who’d spoken loudly just before leading his ten sons out the door. “Doesn’t matter what that paper says. If they give me problems, we’ll just wipe them out and go on like we always have.” I feared he wasn’t the only one with that attitude.

  3. Joint Efforts

  Early on, Sam took me, Korola, Jol, and baby Kora to evaluate the place he wanted to claim for himself. Before we left, my family mounted on our mind-mates, he flying one of the machines, he confided that he wasn’t yet married but was considering asking one of several single women on board the ship to be his wife. Korola and I shared concerned glances—it seemed a strange way to select one’s mate. He discussed the women’s education, their work habits, their age, and never mentioned if any had interest in him. We said nothing—it was none of our business.

  The glade he selected nestled in a curve of the small river that watered a major portion of my plains. His chosen building site was sheltered by good trees, the land was level and fertile, and his stated quarter-section didn’t encroach on anything I was actively cultivating. It was a beautiful location; I hated to give it up.

  “No one in the family has selected this spot as their own,” Korola reminded me. “It is beautiful, but we don’t want to build here. Check first with your brothers, uncles, and cousins. If they don’t speak up, why not Sam?”

  She was right. Sam was friendly—always interested in supporting good relations between his people and mine. He would be a good neighbor.

  **

  Only a week after we’d agreed he could have the parcel of land he wanted, he showed up at the house with a tall, thin woman with very dark skin and short, tightly curled hair. He introduced her as his wife, Jemima. They’d been married the day before on the ship. Korola and I were shocked. No courtship at all? He paid no attention to our reaction and said they were ready to start building.

  “Will you and Aarnyon help us move the logs we’ve felled?” he asked.

  We arrived at the site and found that a number of men had indeed cut down and trimmed enough logs to erect a small cabin. The tools they revealed were amazing—long chains with teeth, run from a motorized machine the size of my head, sliced quickly and neatly through tree trunks as big around as my torso. And the pieces had been moved to Sam’s home-site dangling beneath the air-cars.

  “It seemed that perhaps you and your mind-mate could maneuver the logs into place for us easier than trying to use the car,” he explained as he waved toward an incoming load of four logs. It swung gently to and fro beneath the flying machine and even I could see the difficulty the pilot was having trying to land the stack safely.

  “You are probably right,” I said. After the new load was finally down, Aarnyon and I moved toward it. Sam, and another he introduced as Adam, provided padding and a rope to cross Aarnyon’s shoulders. They tied the ends to specific points on the log and my reeth-mate rose with it perfectly balanced beneath him.

  He sent out a call for help and within a few minutes, Jol, Korola, and two of my uncles arrived on their mind-mates. Within a few hours, the five reeth had set each log perfectly, the men had notched and fitted the corners, Jemima and a couple of others had caulked chinks, and Sam’s small cabin was ready for a roof.

  I heard an odd crackling sound and saw Sam pick up a hand-sized apparatus from inside the air-car he’d been leaning on. He held it to his ear, then spoke into it. Ah! Their method of communication. “Good news!” he cried. “Jemima’s family is bringing dinner for all.”

  I wanted to know how the apparatus worked but didn’t ask. I knew my son well enough to know that he would have the inner workings of the device wormed out of Sam in no time.

  Shortly, a group of humans, men and women, arrived. Everyone resembled Jemima: thin, dark-skinned, tightly curled black hair. Jemima brought an older woman to where Korola and I were seated and introduced her as her mother. “Mama June,” Jemima said. “That’s what everyone calls her. You, too, please.”

  Some set up long tables with folding legs; others carried pots and bowls from the air-car; Mama June and her daughters laid place-settings, and we sat down to eat. Strange food, but tasty.

  Korola explained that we didn’t eat flesh so Mama June made plates of something she called beans—small, soft ovals, dark red, in a same-colored sauce. I recognized the vegetable she called potatoes, but not the salad. “Chopped cabbage,” she said. “The beans we transport dried—we have tons of them onboard. Potatoes and cabbage grow in our hydroponics units.” Korola asked what that was and we listened in fascination at the description Mama June provided. “The big unit was mostly shut down for the trip, but we’ve brought all ship-board support components live since everyone is waking up. Need the food now until we get settled and can produce for ourselves.”

  “Where does the meat they’r
e eating come from?” Jol asked, his eyes as big as saucers as he watched the humans consume huge trays of sliced flesh.

  “The ship carried hundreds of frozen chicken embryos onboard, as well as vacuum-packed beef, pork, and mutton. We’ve been unthawing the chickens and will be raising them outside as soon as possible.”

  Admitting to not knowing what any of the words she mentioned might be, Jol clamored to join the chicken raising as soon as he could. Korola asked for more details, and while Jemima and her mother described chickens, their care, and their preparation as food, Jol lost interest. It sounded very messy to me—not something I wanted to witness.

  Within the next month, seven other couples came to me requesting ground near Sam. Their plan, they said, was to position their homes near the river and develop the lands in a circle around them. They’d brought a finely detailed map on a piece of plastic, they called it. I envied the material—it looked like it would last for hundreds of years. Not at all like the maps we used, painted on rolled-out, thin bark from papry trees.

  **

  Sardon visited often during that first year, usually with several members of his family. They’d arrive via different routes and we would discuss the progress humans were making. My uncles and brothers also kept track of where settlements developed to the south of us. Unlike don, the humans banded together in unrelated groups, as far as we could tell. Everyone living close to me was a member of the Joe family. Not so the humans.

  “I don’t know if it’s good that they’ve concentrated on the plains or not,” Sardon said after a delicious lunch on our patio. “I’m afraid some are pushing Xagdon a bit but I don’t know how to stop them. Paddyon’s reporting unease among Xagdon’s reeth family, the Ball.”

  We leaned over one of our papry maps and studied Xagdon’s territory. “Balliard should help keep him from losing his temper. I know,” I said in reaction to Sardon’s snort of disbelief. “He thinks he needs all that land for his sons and grandsons.” I often worried about that don. He hated me and might take out his animosity on the humans in his area since I was backing their efforts.