by Kira Bacal
accurate! You will also be happy, we hope, to know that we have increased the oxygen content of your cabin air. Our survey of your records indicate a higher percentage is optimal for your species.”
I leaned back in my chair, savoring my food and taking deep breaths. Even if they did eat me, I’d at least go happy. “So, not to pry, but why are you here?”
“Why, to render assistance, of course. We detected damage to your hull and when our efforts to contact you were unsuccessful, we intercepted and boarded your vessel.”
“Oh. Well, thanks,” I said, feeling it was a bit inadequate. “I appreciate it.”
“We postulated that your presence in our territory and lack of a communications array prevented you from summoning help from your own people.”
“Er…” I was spared having to reply by another arrival. This one gibbered urgently at the first, who replied with an equally unintelligible babble. This conversation continued for several minutes while I finished my gingersnap bricks and studied the alien vessel with interest.
“This is most bewildering,” the alien finally switched back to Standard and swiveled two of its eyes to me. “Our experts insist your engines are not damaged.”
“My engines?” I echoed blankly. “No, they’re fine.”
“But – We assumed – It seemed obvious – “ It broke off after sputtering a bit, then finally managed to say, “This is most embarrassing. We should never have interfered with a functional vessel. No wonder you found our intrusion unexpected. This is entirely inappropriate. Our people will be quite displeased to learn of our error. We consider unwelcome intrusions quite the highest faux pas, and yet we have rudely violated your vessel’s autonomy. Please accept our humblest apologies.”
“Well, no, that’s quite all right,” I began uncomfortably. “You see, I was –“ My explanation was interrupted by a plaintive whimpering from one of the other aliens, cut off by a sharp command from the leader. “What’s wrong?”
The eyestalks regarded each other in what – honest! -- looked like embarrassment. “It’s just that… When we thought we were assisting you… You see, it would have brought us much honor to have made an Initial Encounter in the course of an otherwise routine rescue operation. Now, of course, that glory shall be subsumed by our shame in misinterpreting your status.”
“You mean, if you had really rescued me, it would have accorded you a great deal of honor? But this way, since my drive is functional, it’s nothing but an embarrassment?”
“Cogently and accurately put.”
I scratched my chin, considering. This might work out really well after all. “I think I can help you out.”
Now everyone’s eyestalks were riveted upon me. “How?” the leader gasped.
“Let’s consider this a rehearsal for the real thing,” I offered. “It’s not your fault you misunderstood, and I appreciate your willingness to help me. Tell you what I’ll do. In oh, say eight days, I will return to this exact spot, and I predict that at that time, my engines will be completely nonfunctional.”
The aliens were quivering in what I hoped was excitement. “You would do that for us?”
“Sure. And then we can introduce each other to our respective governments, arrange diplomatic recognition – you name it.”
“That would be most accommodating of you. Are you certain you wouldn’t mind?”
I waved away their thanks magnanimously. “Not at all. Just don’t be late – my engines really will be dead.”
“How kind! How unselfish! You are indeed a most advanced species!”
“Don’t mention it,” I demurred modestly. “Glad to help. ...By the way,” I added casually, “in order to make our rendezvous, I’ll need to readjust my course and conserve my fuel… Could I impose upon you for a little lift? Just to a system closer to one of my species’ outposts.”
It was really too easy. The aliens fell all over their tentacles to be helpful.
I retired to my cabin while they loaded my ship onto theirs and got my first sound sleep in a fortnight. Eight days. That gave me plenty of time to cash in my cargo, make a few judicious investments, and get a new outfit and haircut (if I was going to make history, I wasn’t going to do it looking like this!). That still left plenty of time to get back here, sabotage the engines, and participate in the IE, take two.
And that’s how it was. Forget what you learned in history class. That’s the official version. But I was there, and I’m not so old as to forget what really happened. So far as I know, no one ever guessed the truth, and -- despite another little teaching of my mother’s – I not only got away with it, but I also lived quite happily ever after.
Within two days of sailing back into Terran space, my face had been featured in every media venture, I’d received three offers of government jobs and innumerable ones in the private sector, my bank account had burgeoned, and my ex-partner was cross-eyed with envy and frustration. [Yeah, yeah, I know. I probably should have just killed him, but I used those eight days to ensure that my newfound fame wouldn’t touch him and I couldn’t resist the temptation to watch him eat himself up inside.] I couldn’t avoid picking up a new partner though. After joining (by invitation) the diplomatic mission to establish relations with our new friends, I found a new associate: a Terran sheepdog puppy named Sam. Okay, he wasn’t exactly my ideal orgy date, but as a loyal and loving friend, he was unbeatable. And speaking of orgy partners, it was a few years after that that I had my famous (or infamous) encounter with… But that’s another story, for another time.
About the author:
Kira Bacal is a physician and scientist who has worked at NASA and the US Senate, among other odd and wonderful places. She currently lives among towering trees in New Zealand with her two children and a vandalism-prone Leonberger.