Alien Caller

by Greg Curtis

  She didn’t disappoint them. Once she had their attention, she set out the ground rules; no shouting, no holding the devices up that they were about to show them so that they could be seen from afar, and no discussion of them anywhere near the supply depot. As she told them in no uncertain terms, if the Mentan found out what they had, all hope was lost.

  Finally she told them what David had brought, and then made him explain how he’d got them, while they were passed around the group. Some of the layman among them listened closely to him, and only looked briefly at the devices before passing them along. Others, the technologists he assumed, ignored everything he said and refused to pass the devices on as they studied them intently. It was a very mixed group.

  But as a group they had all the skills he could have hoped for. All seven of the Mentan’s devices were identified, several with considerable enthusiasm. As Cyrea had thought one was a communicator, used specifically for speaking between nearby ships or cities. It didn’t have the range to reach other worlds, but with time and the right tools, it could be adapted to reach ships within a few light years at least.

  Another was a Mentan personal power pack, with enough energy to run most of the devices for a year or more. Several eyes started boggling when they saw it, and Cyrea had to repeat her warning about keeping their mouth’s shut. Apparently it was one of the things the Leinians had always wanted to study more closely, and he had accidentally managed to swipe it.

  Several other items were completely useless. One was the technological equivalent of a foot brush, used to take dirt off the soles of the walking tentacles. Instead of bristles though, it used ultrasonics. Another was a personal stereo, which played only the drum beats that Mentans loved to hear continuously. No doubt their particular jailer would now be very unhappy at no longer being able to hear his soothing sounds. It was something David thought he could live with.

  The other items were tools. One was a scanner, used for examining the structures of metals and other minerals, another a tiny precision cutter for shaping tiny components and the last a welding device. It seemed Mentan’s were notorious for their love of hand tools. Which made sense given the number of hands or tentacles they had.

  Finally Cyrea gathered all the gadgets back up, sensing imminent disaster if she didn’t. The technicians wouldn’t let them go, and no doubt would sooner or later have brought them in range of the depot.

  In time she managed to organize the rabble into three groups. One to salvage anything they could from the pods to help build a camp. The second to see what was in the depot and do the same. The third group, comprised almost totally of the technicians, was to start putting together a plan to use the gadgets to build a transmitter. They were specifically forbidden to leave the clearing, and the ship’s captain was placed in charge of making sure they didn’t. It was a role Gal took seriously, but then he had reason. He’d lost his ship, let his passengers down, and even though it wasn’t his fault, David could see the pain in his heart only too clearly. He would do anything it took to get them home.

  David and Cyrea went to help with the depot, glad to be free of the technicians who even then were starting to brainstorm in their own unique dialect; one which his translator couldn’t convert into anything even vaguely close to English. They were excited by what they had, but not cohesive. As each one came up with a theory, five others would take the idea and advance it into something even more fantastic, while the rest would shoot holes in it. But at least they were trying.

  The depot itself was little more than a small steel cabin piled high as the Mentan had said, with supplies. Most of them were food and clothing, but there were also some basic medical supplies and hygiene products. It was enough and David knew he should be grateful for that mercy. On the other hand the food was army rations, which he had no doubt they would all tire of in due course. But it was also what they needed; nothing flash, just high potency concentrates to which they could just add hot water. There was enough stored in the depot for them to last at least a year. And there was also a message from their captor, saying he’d restock them before that. So they weren’t going to starve at least. On the other hand, the thought of being stuck here for an entire year was possibly even worse.

  The ship’s doctor quickly managed to identify the medical kit, and started familiarizing himself with the contents. From the grunts, he seemed to be moderately happy with it, something else for which David had to be grateful. With Cyrea only three or four months from term, a doctor was very much needed.

  The strange thing was that as he stood there going through the supplies, David felt oddly confident. It might be an alien world with who knew what dangers. Cyrea might be pregnant. And there might be little hope of getting home. But in a way it was also a survival exercise, and he'd done so many of those when he was in the army that he thought he could get them through.

  He had the skills to survive practically anywhere on Earth. Maybe he had what he needed to keep them safe off Earth as well?

  The skills he lacked were the ones to get them off this world.

  Chapter Thirty

  After two weeks on the planet, David was actually becoming bored with the novelty of it all. Bored on an alien planet! It was something he would once have never have believed possible and yet it was still happening. Yellow skies, odd odours, strange trees and stranger creatures simply didn’t impress him any longer, and the hard work of trying to build shelters and survive no longer monopolized his time. It didn’t help that he was frustrated as he was completely unable to help the crew as they built or tried to build their radio. The science of it was completely beyond him, and in any case, the techs would shoo anyone else away. Then they’d spend the rest of their time arguing with one another as far as he could tell. But at least they were trying, and while they were trying, there was hope.

  He’d taken to exploration instead, something he knew had to be done even if the others had repeatedly warned him about it. The valley was safe. The Mentan had made sure that no large creatures could enter it by erecting a small force field around it, and none of the small ones posed much of a threat. They didn’t even bite. But ultimately David knew they would have to leave this valley, if only because in a few generations, if they didn’t get away from here, they would need to start growing food. There were eleven couples among them, and all of child bearing age. People being people and with no form of contraception available to them, that meant there would be children in time. Children born in a prison. That couldn’t be allowed to happen.

  Cyrea in particular was worried by his wandering, but she knew she couldn’t stop him. Instead she just made him promise every time he went out to be careful, and he made sure he kept his word. Besides, he knew if he came back quickly and undamaged she would reward him in their makeshift tent as a conquering hero. But if he was late, or hurt himself, he’d be better off sleeping outside in the rain. Not that Cyrea would allow him that mercy.

  He suspected that part of the reason she didn’t try to stop his exploration, was that she also knew it had to be done. They might be here a very long time, and he was the biggest, strongest and best trained of them for the work. He had the best chance of success. Like it or not it had to be him and it had to be done. So instead she let him go and fretted.

  The surrounding land outside their valley was in some ways very similar to the wilds of South Africa. Inside the valley the trees were randomly dotted everywhere among the grasslands; outside they formed vast conglomerations twenty and thirty meters high, and were surrounded by miles of burnt looking savannah, while small rivers slowly meandered their way between them. But in many other ways it was completely alien to everything he’d ever imagined. The trees, the animals, the smells and even the sounds were all wrong. He could understand them after a fashion, and in time he knew he’d meld much more smoothly into it, but that would be some time away.

  For the moment he had to stay alert, never knowing from which direction a threat might come. In the forests he’d di
scovered it was the pools of water around which the trees grew, which were the main threats. They were the hubs of life for the community, but just like earthly lakes and rivers, they had their crocodiles. They even looked like them, evolution having designed the same sleek shaped killer with far too many teeth here as well. Only their brown leathery skin and extra legs really separated them.

  On the plains though, there was a completely different predator to worry about. A long legged greyhound that specialized in hiding in the long orange brown grasses, and leaping out at unsuspecting prey. The first time he’d seen one, David had nearly suffered a heart attack. The thing was simply so fast and had so many teeth that it unnerved him, and its camouflage was perfect. But he was a lot bigger than its normal prey, which was a six legged slug shaped sheep, and the hunter ignored him completely. No doubt he smelled bad and looked strange. While there were alien sheep around he would be safe. Still, he made certain to carry a makeshift spear with him at all times, and in the camp others were working on crafting bows and arrows. Just in case.

  But there were other dangers as well. Some of the plants were more active than those of Earth. They tended to slowly writhe and wriggle even when there was no wind. Some had nasty hooks, like little claws, which they’d wrap around a limb and then pull. The result was a wound that looked like a gaping maw. He’d gained a few small ones of his own until he’d discovered their secret. Sheep that were stupid enough to wander into a patch of the predatory plants, generally made it out though, minus a lot of green blood.

  The birds too could be dangerous, and several times he’d looked up to find himself being dive bombed by a four winged bat. No doubt it was simply defending its territory or nest, and he’d wandered too close. But it was still alarming. Thankfully, they never made contact. No doubt if they frightened him he scared them too.

  Food and raw materials were his main concern for the present. They couldn’t count on their captor bringing those supplies forever, which meant they’d have to work out what they could scavenge locally. They’d also have to work out how to build proper accommodation as the make shift shelters they’d pulled together out of the remains of the pods weren’t particularly large or sturdy and in time they’d need more. And so it was he spent most of his time hunting small animals, gathering what looked like fruit and bringing back species of plant that he thought might be useful. Important work, but still not what he’d planned on doing when he’d left Earth.

  Disease however, was the scariest threat. Within days of arriving here, the entire party except him had fallen ill with a mild fever. Nothing dangerous, and no-one had needed more than a day’s rest, but even so the warning was real. This world was not truly safe and the sooner they got off it the better.

  Cyrea at least was still doing well. The Mentan had left them a complete medical kit, and first thing they’d done was to check her out. The baby was still safe, three months away or just less from arriving in the world, and her mother was in good shape. She was angry about losing her shape, though she hid it well and he kept telling her how good she looked which was only the truth. She was really more angry about being so restricted in her physical capabilities with the baby on board. Especially on an alien planet.

  But if physically she might not be up to her usual routine, emotionally she was far ahead of the game, and had pretty much taken charge of the camp. This mother to be was not about to let anything interfere with the safe birth of her daughter. Oddly enough the others, including David, found it comforting to have her take charge. Rightly or wrongly, she gave them a sense that she knew what she was doing, and that was precious beyond belief in this strange place.

  “Ouch!” Something narrow and sharp stabbed into his toe and David couldn't keep from crying out a little. The damned thing hurt.

  Careful as he was to meld into the background and not disturb the wildlife, sometimes things just went wrong, and he hobbled about holding his toe, looking for the offending rock he’d kicked. It wasn’t the first. This was the last time he wore thin sand shoes on an interplanetary trip he promised himself. They just weren’t up to it.

  Rooting around in the long grass he found the offending object with his fingers, and set about pulling it up, surprised by its sharp hook. Clearly it was an unusual shape for a rock. It was also buried quite well, and wouldn’t come. Instead he started flattening the grass around it, trying to get a look at it.

  In time he could make out the top of the rock projecting from the flattened grass, and he saw that it was a stone, if a bizarrely shaped one. It was maybe a foot round at the base, and went down into the ground, so underneath it could be much larger, while at the top it tapered to a thin cone which was bent over at the top. And that sharp point was what his toe had run into.

  He stared at it for a long time, puzzled. For a start it was the first real rock he’d seen on this world, since everything was covered in thick vegetation as far as the eye could see. Although in truth, he’d barely wandered more than a mile or two away from their valley in any direction. But even remembering that it was an alien planet, there was something about the rock that was wrong.

  He wandered around it, studying it from every angle, uncaring of what the surrounding animals thought about this alien intruder. They’d adapt. There was something about it that simply held his eyes. Every few seconds he gave it another kick, from another angle, partly telling it off for having injured him, and partly trying to loosen it.

  Then suddenly he realized what was wrong with it, and almost fell over in shock, before he dropped to his hands and knees and started digging frantically all around it. The rock was too smooth, as though it had been in a river for a thousand years. But there was no river here. But more importantly, it wasn’t round, as river rocks normally were. It was shaped. Which meant someone, or something had shaped it.

  Quickly his hands started to hurt, the nails filling with dirt, and he knew he needed a shovel. Of course there was no such thing here. Looking around, he found his spear, and started scraping away at the soil around its base, hoping to free it. He dug frantically, like a man possessed, and every few minutes gave it another kick with the souls of his feet, until finally he felt something give. He dug some more.

  Ten minutes later, he could feel it moving around, like a fence post in a hole, and he stopped digging, choosing instead to try and wiggle it around with his feet. He pushed it backwards and forwards, until he could see it moving through a considerable angle, and then started twisting it with his hands, feeling it slowly start to come free.

  Then finally, with one major pull, he ripped it out of the ground and was finally rewarded by the sight of it lying sideways on the grass.

  Catching his breath slowly and repeatedly wiping the sweat out of his eyes he studied it, realizing that what he had was a statue. Or at least a part of one. It looked like a swan’s neck and head, complete with a beak and two eyes, and a chicken’s crest. On the lower part of the neck it had frills, like ruffles on a shirt, and just at the base where it had been broken off, he could see the beginnings of the body. He hoped it wasn’t life sized, because a two meter long neck, implied a massive body, and he wouldn’t want to meet such a creature any time soon.

  It was old he realized, with much of the finer detail almost worn off, but it was definitely an artificial object. And, as he studied the base of the neck some more, he realised it had writing on it. There were strange characters, not hieroglyphs but true letters and though he had no idea what they said he knew that they said something. Something that maybe the others could read. He realized the rest of it had to be buried below, and it was probably much larger, and probably with a lot more writing on it.

  Taking his swan head like a trophy, a very heavy trophy, he started hauling it back towards the valley, determined to show it to the others. It was too heavy to swing over his shoulder, and so he settled for carrying it like a bag of groceries in front of him. It didn’t help that the path back was nearly a kilometre, and all of it up hill. He’d
pick it up, stagger for a few hundred yards or so, then drop it to the ground and have a quick rest. But there was no way he was leaving it behind.

  Maybe an hour or so later, he crested the hill, and could see his way back to the valley. Ahead he could see Cyrea, waiting for him at the gate, and guessed he might be a little later then he’d promised. She didn't make the climb up the valley every day any more. He waved, making sure she knew he was all right, and then hauled it another hundred yards towards her, before collapsing for another brief rest.