by Jack Doe
"I know you will," Ing'ma replied, wiping his eyes. "The tears are of pride, my little roughhoof. Ever since I've known you, you've been single-minded in wanting to meet the humans. Now's your chance, and I am happy for you, happy for us all."
Anul'thek smiled, unable to say anything.
"Let's get you into your scouting pod," Ing'ma said as the door opened. Thunderous applause and stomping of hooves greeted their ears. All of the centaurs were on their feet, wishing him well. Anul'thek smiled self-consciously and waved.
"Speech!" someone called out, and the crowd cheered again.
Ing'ma nudged Anul'thek in his upper ribs. Anul'thek reluctantly made his way to the center of the courtyard.
"My friends," he began. "For ten thousand years, we have yearned to be back among the humans. Today, we can see that goal in sight." He waited for the applause to die down.
"Today, I travel to Earth to seek out members of mankind that will welcome us home. It may be quick; it may take some time. I ask for your patience; something as important as this is worth waiting for, and haven't we already waited long enough!" The audience roared in applause again.
"I thank you all for your kind send-off." Looking out among his kin, he saw countless excited faces, countless people he knew and loved and who loved him. If ever he felt resolved, now was the time. In a firm, strong voice, he made his final statement, "I will not let you down." He waved and made for the scouting pod.
Ing'ma saw him as far as the door of the ship, gave him a final hug, and then hummed the first few notes of one of their songs of waiting. As the door closed and Anul'thek's face disappeared, the ship reverberated with the haunting melody. They watched as his pod streaked towards Earth.
Chapter 7
Bryce locked the door of the visitor's center behind him. The car park was empty; he was closing up the Stonehenge monument for the night. His passion for Stonehenge and his ability to recall so many details about it from the many lectures he'd attended made him a shoe-in for a guide position. He made his way toward his bicycle in the car park. Being a new moon, it was utterly dark outside, and as his eyes grew accustomed to it, the stars began to twinkle out of the darkness, revealing themselves. His breath caught; the sky was as clear as he'd ever seen it, and looking out over Stonehenge, it seemed as though it was floating someplace between dimensions. A streak of light flashed across the sky right over the monument: a meteor, perhaps.
Make a wish, Bryce thought to himself, a habit his grandfather had taught him years ago. His heart ached with the wish he made, but as soon as he was done, he snorted derisively. Wishes on stars didn't come true—especially ones like his. Still...
He cast a loving glance back at the monument. He took pride in it, cared about it, and appreciated nights like this when it gave back.
He reached his bike and put on his helmet, switched on his headlamp, and began to pedal home. Grandpa would probably have dinner ready. He hoped it was steak-and-ale pie. His new job had come with a raise, and he'd spent it to give Grandpa a better life when he could.
He veered off the street and began riding cross-country. With the sky as it was, he felt as though he was pedaling through the cosmos, yet the summer grass rushed beneath him as he pedaled. Suddenly, a bright light shone from behind him, bright as daylight, and seemed to be moving towards him very quickly. He veered to the side, thinking a lorry had lost control and hoped that he could get out of its way in time. His tires hit a rock, and he flew off his bike, sprawling on the ground. The bright light flew through the air and streaked over the next hill, a huge gust of wind and a cloud of dust following it. There was no sound; it had come out of nowhere, and just as instantly as it had appeared, it was gone. There was no light; there was no crash. All that remained were the scrapes and bruises on Bryce's skin and his bicycle, the wheel still spinning in the air, lying on the ground where it skidded to a stop. Even the cloud of dust was fast-dissipating.
"Fuck all," Bryce cursed under his breath and went to retrieve his bicycle. Please be in one piece, please be in one piece, please be in one piece! he urged in his head as he began to inspect the bicycle in the darkness. He flicked the front wheel; it spun without hindrance. That's a start, he thought. He flicked the back wheel; it, too, ran unobstructed. He tried the brakes; they worked fine. He got back on; the steering was off a bit, but he could ride it home. He set off again.
What was that bright light? he wondered. It had made no noise, yet the wind following it had been propelled by something! Eyes wide, he cautiously pedaled up to the top of the hill and looked down. He didn't see anything. He trained his headlamp out over the ground below him, but it was too weak to be of much use. He shook his head. It was weird. Really weird. He began to pedal home, keeping his eyes peeled, stopping periodically to listen. The shire was silent, and nothing stirred. All was well, save the uneasy feeling he had.
Bryce made it home, parked his bicycle, and walked inside, his feet clunking on the wooden floor. Warm light from incandescent bulbs on the low ceiling illuminated the space: the living room opened to the right, and the kitchen to the left, a little bar running along his left side and separating the two rooms. The place was cluttered, not from lack of cleanliness, but from lack of space. The living room had a wooden coffee table, an off-white, nearly threadbare fabric couch, and a couple of bookcases filled with various books and knick-knacks on them. There was no television; they couldn't afford the luxury. The coffee table had some books, coasters, and magazines on it, most of which had been cleared out of the way for dinner, since the table was dual-purposed for dining. In the kitchen, the cooktop bubbled with the cooking meal, and the counters were strewn with the tools used to make it. A few open shelves held spices, cookbooks, and cooking implements. Directly in front of Bryce was the doorway to Grandpa's room, and to the left, past the kitchen, was the hallway to his own room and to the bathroom. It was a small space—the place he'd grown up—but it was unquestionably home.
"How was your–" Grandpa trailed off, seeing Bryce's disheveled appearance, torn trousers, and scraped hands. "Bryce! What happened?"
Bryce hesitated. Did he tell his grandpa about the strange occurrence that he could neither explain nor prove, or did he blow it off?
"I, uh, got distracted and lost control," he said. No reason to worry Grandpa, he reasoned.
"Good heavens, Bryce! Have you been drinking?" Grandpa asked, not judgmentally, but worriedly.
"No, Grandpa. I came straight home. No stop at the pub tonight," Bryce replied, going to the sink to wash up. "What's for dinner?" He already knew; the smell was unmistakable, and he'd already started salivating in anticipation, but he wanted to change the subject.
"I've made your favorite!" Grandpa replied, beaming, "Steak-and-ale pie!"
"Awesome!" Bryce said enthusiastically. That wasn't what he'd wished for on the meteor, but he'd settle for it.
The two settled down at the table, and Grandpa served up generous portions of the pie for each of them.
"That smells so good, Grandpa," Bryce said, his eyes half-closing in ecstasy.
"I figured a proper celebration was in order in light of your improved fortunes," Grandpa said with a grin.
Bryce took a bite of his food, and Grandpa asked, "So, how was it?" his eyes sparkling with excitement.
Bryce gave an exasperated look as he chewed his food. He never could prove that Grandpa did it on purpose, but the guy had an uncanny way of always asking something just as Bryce put something into his mouth. He sighed, refusing to rush as he savored the beef, moistened and tenderized by the ale, and seasoned with the flavor of vegetables. "Mmmm," he said, "So good." He finished chewing and swallowed, reached for his bitter, and washed it down while Grandpa looked on in anticipation.
"It was so good, Grandpa," Bryce said at last, his eyes lighting up at the memory. "I got there and cleaned up from my ride, and then Sheila showed me the welcome center and introduced me to my boss."
"Is your boss nice?" Grandpa encourage
d.
"Splendid, Grandpa!" Bryce exulted. "She's a really nice person, she's as crazy about Stonehenge as I am, and she must know everything there is to know about it!"
"Everything, huh?" Grandpa asked, grinning at Bryce's enthusiasm.
"Well..." Bryce backpedaled, "maybe not everything, but way more than I do! We spent the first two hours just talking about it. It was like my own private lesson; I loved it!"
"That's great, Bryce!"
"Yeah, and then she took me out to let me get up close to the monument; the closest I've ever gotten. I could have breathed on it, if I wanted to, Grandpa, I was so close."
"You didn't touch it, did you?" Grandpa asked worriedly.
Bryce shook his head. "No, Grandpa," he said, feigning hurt, "I know better than that!"
Grandpa sighed in relief. The monument was ancient, and the thin layer of vegetation that grew on the stones helped to preserve them. People touching the stones killed the vegetation and left the stones vulnerable.
"So then what?" Grandpa prodded.
"Then I went back upfront with Sheila, and she showed me how to give people their tickets, where to put their money, and all that. She was really happy for me."
"I'm sure there are a lot of us really happy for you, kiddo," Grandpa said fondly. "You deserved a break for a change."
Bryce grinned. "Thanks, Grandpa," he said. "It's not like my life has been terrible, ya know," he said with a grin and a wink.
"Oh, no," Grandpa said appreciatively, "We've lived a good life. But I know how bored you were at the store, and as long as I've heard you go on about Stonehenge, I always thought that would be a great place for you to work. Heck," he added, "it might even give you an in when you actually start doing archaeology: meet some of the famous archaeologists and maybe get an internship!"
Bryce's eyes lit up even brighter, and his whole face seemed radiant. His blonde hair had been trimmed to a tidy side part, exposing his face and giving him a more youthful appearance than he had with his long hair. The absence of patchy beard gave him a clean-cut but boyish look, and right now, that boy was elated. The thought of working with one of the great archaeologists, the idea that he might one day help explain some of the unsolved mysteries about the monument, was too much to hide inside.
The two continued to eat and chat. Grandpa talked about troubles going on across the Pond and more trouble brewing in the Middle East, Russia, and China.
"Seems like the world's going to Hell in a hand basket," Grandpa said, but he brightened and raised his mug. "At least life is good for us!" Bryce grinned and clinked mugs.
As they cleaned up the dishes, Bryce found his mind wandering back to the strange bright light. What was it? Where did it go? He slept fitfully that night, having a weird feeling that he was being watched.
Chapter 8
The Earth loomed in front of Anul'thek's pod, growing bigger and bigger by the second. So far, nobody had tried to interfere with him. He could feel his pod heating up, but he wasn't concerned. He felt the effect of gravity take hold on him, and he began looking for his landing point. The dark ground rushed up at him faster and faster, and then he spotted his landing spot. Focusing on it, he pressed a button to tell his pod to land. A ribbon of dirt rushed by underneath him, cutting across the otherwise grassy fields. He recognized it as a road, and as his path diverged from it, he saw a figure moving very slowly in front of him. He pulled up on the yoke of his ship to avoid the creature, breathing a sigh of relief as his ship returned to its mission of landing him. Seconds later, it was over. He stepped out silently and hid his ship underneath some dense hedgerows. In case the figure had spotted him, he ducked behind a hedge and lay flat, his legs spread out behind him as he watched for the creature. He shielded his eyes with his hands and peeped out from behind his fingers, lest his eyes should reflect.
Sure enough, a few minutes later, the figure appeared at the top of the hill he'd just come over, shining a weak light around. The figure was a good hundred feet or so away, and although the creature's light told Anul'thek where the creature was, Anul'thek doubted very much that the light would illuminate him. Nevertheless, he lay still, breathing very softly. The figure eventually started moving off to the east of Anul'thek, who carefully slid his body around the hedge to always be as hidden behind it as best as he could. The figure would stop occasionally, but as it drew further away, Anul'thek breathed a sigh of relief.
Once satisfied that the figure had gone sufficiently away, Anul'thek crept to his feet. His keen eyes could see the dim light illuminating a path a distance away. No other animals that he knew of produced their own light on land, and so the figure must have been human. Elatedly, he cautiously pursued it at an easy trot, staying out of the light and ready to throw himself to the ground at a moment's notice. Nothing stirred, and the figure eventually stopped at a wooden structure. Illuminated by a light next to the structure's entrance, the top part of the figure separated from the bottom part, leaving the bottom part outside.
The part that moved looked unmistakably human. Anul'thek's heart leapt out of his chest with excitement. He had seen his first human with his own two eyes! He steeled himself. He had to be careful; he mustn't be seen. While the human looked harmless enough, he didn't know whether it was friendly or not.
The human entered the building, and the light outside turned off. Anul'thek closed the distance between himself and the building quickly, hiding behind a large metal machine that sat in the driveway. Lights were on inside, and he heard voices. He relayed the sounds back to his ship, which transmitted them back to the main ship hiding behind the moon, hundreds of thousands of miles away.
After a minor delay, the translated conversation played in his ear. The humans were talking about a new occupation that one of the humans—he couldn't tell which one—had gotten. There were a couple of references to something called a "stone hinge," which neither he nor the translators on the ship could identify. Something about a pond, which he didn't recognize, and apparently some general goodwill. The linguists thought that one of the speakers might be named "Bryce," and the other, "Grandpa," but they weren't sure. There was a lot that was lost in translation; however, it seemed to be a pleasant domestic discussion. Ing'ma sent him a message saying that this seemed like a good candidate for starters.
There were windows on the dwelling through which the light escaped from inside, but Anul'thek could not see through them; a sheer covering obscured the view inside. He could see shadows of two figures, which matched with the two voices he heard, but he still could not tell which was which, whether there were more, and which had been riding the contraption he had seen earlier. He crept around the building to look in other windows. All had sheer coverings on them, save one. The window was open, and the evening breeze blew blew the sheer covering open, giving him a glimpse inside. It was dark, but he could pick out a large, rectangular thing lying on the ground, a rectangular thing standing upright against a wall, and other irregular shapes that he could not begin to place. He stepped back from the window, far enough that he was obscured in darkness, and settled in to watch it.
Some time later, the lights turned out elsewhere in the building, and the light turned on in the room. Anul'thek shrank back a bit to stay concealed and watched as a blond-haired figure, about 5'9", stepped into view. He was youngish, Anul'thek thought, probably around 40 or 50, about Anul'thek's age, maybe slightly younger. The expressions on the man's face and in his carriage were clearly readable to Anul'thek; he could see why it had been easy to communicate with them in the past: their body language alone spoke volumes. The man seemed troubled. He held in his hand a small, roughly rectangular device that emitted light. He seemed very intent on looking at the light, but Anul'thek could not imagine why. Eventually, the human lost interest and put it on top of one of the strange shapes next to the big rectangle.
To Anul'thek's amazement, he saw the human take off the skin on the top half of his body. When he relayed the image back to the ship, though,
the anthropologists reminded him that humans wore coverings over their skin, unlike the centaurs. They were puzzled, though, because this light blue, long-sleeved garment looked nothing like the animal skins their ancestors had seen. Beneath the garment was a pale body that matched the color of the human's face. His nipples were darker, just like the centaurs', and his abs rippled lightly below the surface of his skin. Anul'thek's breath caught: the human was beautiful. It looked fragile, but that made it all the more precious. Anul'thek found that he wanted to pet the human and almost took a step forward, but he caught himself. I mustn't be seen, he repeated mentally to himself.
Just then, the human turned toward the window suspiciously, and Anul'thek dropped instantly to the ground, blending in with the grass in the total darkness. The human peered out into the darkness, and then looked up at the stars. Anul'thek knew that look: it was a look of wistfulness. What are you seeking, human? Anul'thek asked mentally.
The human shook his head and took off the covering over the lower part of his body. Anul'thek rose again to watch. When the image made it back to the ship, the anthropologists were very confused: they could not tell where the human's reproductive organs had gone. According to all knowledge they had, man's reproductive organs should be just below his waist. One suggested that perhaps this was a female, and nobody could confirm or deny it: he looked male by all accounts, albeit softer in skin and features than its forebears had been, but the lack of external genitalia had them perplexed. Anul'thek was charged with determining the gender of this human.