by Maggie Allen
Shallie woke, remembered what day it was, kicked off the thin microfiber sheets and rolled out of bed. Through the sleep pod’s skylight, a sulky trickle of orange sunlight outlined the silent computer and the metal footlocker holding Shallie’s clothes. Those things and the bed just about filled the pod. She flicked on the computer and set the screen to mirror mode so she could scrape her dark hair into a neat topknot. She pulled a clean excursion overall out of the footlocker and slipped it on, practically dancing with anticipation.
Today was the day she’d finally get to meet the aliens.
Her parents had already emerged from their own sleep pod and sat at the tiny table in the middle of the living pod, eating breakfast. The inflated pod walls undulated slightly, giving under what must be a brisk wind outside on the planet’s surface. The place seemed prone to wind and dust storms. They didn’t last long, but this part of the planet was covered with such deep dust—regolith, her mother called it—that sometimes the landscape could change dramatically during a storm. Shallie hoped nothing big would blow in today.
“Breakfast is ready,” Shallie’s father said with a smile, squeezing food paste from three different tubes onto Shallie’s plate and adding a few spoonfuls of water. He passed it under the heating lamp and the paste squirmed and reconfigured itself into more solid-looking mounds of nourishment. Some people liked to watch while their meal went through this transformation, but Shallie didn’t. The long wriggles of paste reminded her of colorful worms.
It had been a long time since Shallie had actually seen a worm, back home on Earth—a hundred and six years, in fact. Of course, she’d spent a hundred and five of those years in cold sleep, so it really felt like less than a year. Ten months on the ship, two weeks on the planet, preparing. Still, even a year was a long time, and there was something about just knowing it had been more than a hundred years, even if she hadn’t experienced them, that made it feel indescribably long.
“Is everyone else ready?” she asked her mother, spooning a bite of “waffle” into her mouth. It tasted a little like waffles, Shallie thought, but mostly not.
Shallie’s mother didn’t look up from her screen—probably reading another report. Sometimes Shallie wondered how there could possibly be so many topics requiring reports, but her mother was the mission leader, so Shallie guessed she had to know about absolutely everything.
“Reports look good,” her mother said. “The rest of the team is on track, and word from the Others says they’re ready, too.”
“Will I be able to talk to any of the kids?” Shallie asked.
Her father chuckled. “I don’t know about talking,” he said, stirring more sugar powder into what he called his almost-coffee. “None of us are doing more than very basic communicating with the Others yet. But you should have a chance to interact with Other children, yes.” He reached out and tweaked her topknot. “That’s why we brought you a hundred years from home, right?”
She grinned. “Right.” She opened her screen and brought up the rudimentary communication symbols they’d worked out with the Others, even though she was certain she had them memorized. For today, she had to be sure.
Tlik’chik woke, remembered what day it was, detached from the sleeping-mesh and tumbled out of the darknest. She blinked in the orange sunlight pouring in through the bignest’s light panels and padded to the wash chamber, where her parents lingered over their morning wash. Joining them in the thin trickle of water, barely enough to wet her feathers, Tlik’chik shivered in the cold as the family preened and washed each other. Then Tlik’chik’s father braided her hair and curled it around her head in his own special way, pinning it tightly, while her mother heated foodpods in the warmer. Finally Tlik’chik scooted away from her father’s fussing, snatched up a couple of foodpods and took them to the biggest window with a view of the planet’s surface. She squirted breakfast into her mouth, barely tasting it.
Today was the day she’d finally get to meet the aliens.
Tlik’chik dialed down the opacity of the light panel so she could look outside without squinting. Even after quite a few cycles on this planet, the orange sun’s light always felt a little too bright, a little too strange, and sometimes it made her head ache. She wondered if the aliens found it uncomfortable, too. She’d read all the data about their home planet, so she knew their own sun was even brighter, hotter and yellower than this one. Tlik’chik took another squirt of breakfast and tried to imagine it, but failed. She wondered what the aliens would think of her own planet’s sun, its beautiful dark-red glow so much gentler than this one. A strong wind had picked up outside, swirling tall cones of pale dust into the air and sending them dancing around the bignests of the rest of the duty clan.
“Are you ready to meet the aliens?” Tlik’chik’s mother chirped, her short fingers flying over the touchscreen, checking the data. The pads on her fingers made soft bumping noises in the quiet bignest.
Tlik’chik turned from the window and threw the empty foodpod into the recycler, dropping the other one into her pocket. Tlik’chik’s father was fastening his honor tabs onto the front of his uniform. She felt a sudden surge of pride that he’d been selected to lead the contact mission.
“Definitely! I want to know what their kids are like. Do you think they’ll want to play itri-sticks with me?”
Her mother looked up from the touchscreen and smiled. “It might take a while to teach them how to play, since we don’t have much of a common language yet,” she said, “But that’s why we’re here, after all. I think itri-sticks would be a great idea.”
Tlik’chik rummaged in her bag of belongings until she found the long box of polished, brightly-colored wooden sticks, and slipped it into her pocket. She might play itri-sticks with an alien! It was going to be an amazing day.
Halfway between the human camp and the alien one, a weirdly-twisting tree thrust gnarled branches toward the planet’s greenish sky. The tree bore a full, rustling cover of pale yellow leaves, and beneath its canopy was the spot where the two missions had decided to meet. Until now, they’d communicated only by simple messages, each trying to learn as much as possible about the other side. Shallie had seen a picture of the meeting place, taken by an observation flyer, but she hadn’t been there herself—no one had, yet. Secretly, Shallie wondered why they didn’t just get together from the beginning—surely it couldn’t be any more difficult than learning a new language on Earth, which lots of people did every day.
But, no, her mother said. This was so much more important than just learning a language; the very first meeting with beings from another planet. And although it seemed both sides wanted only friendship, they had to be very careful. If they didn’t know enough about the other culture, someone could make a terrible mistake by accident—make a rude gesture without realizing it, or use a word in an offensive way, and then who knew what might happen?
Shallie thought the grown-ups were probably being too careful—grown-ups often did that—but there wasn’t anything she could do about it. She’d made a point of learning everything she could for herself, though. If anyone was going to make a terrible mistake today, it wasn’t going to be her.
The pod walls swayed to one side and then snapped upright again. A small hissing, almost like rain but with a harder edge, filled the pod as dust peppered the outside.
“The wind’s really picking up out there,” her mother said, worry evident in her voice. “I wonder if we should try to postpone the meeting?”
“No!” Shallie almost shouted. She’d been waiting for this moment. “If I have to wait another day to meet the aliens, I think I’ll die!”
Her father smiled indulgently at her. “I don’t think it will be quite that serious,” he said. He went to one of the pod windows and peered out. “It’s windy, and there’s some dust blowing around, but I doubt it’s going to get any worse than this. If we wait for a day with no wind, we’ll never meet them!”
“Let’s see what Tomaso thinks,” her mother muttered
, and pulled out her communicator. She held a low-voiced conversation with her second-in-command as Shallie gathered up the drawings she’d sketched as a gift for the alien children. They were all scenes of Earth as she remembered it; their house, her school, the park where they liked to camp. Dogs, cats, horses, other earth animals. Flowers, trees, cars and airplanes. Shallie had carefully printed the names of everything at the bottom of the pictures. She hoped they’d like them as she put them carefully into the envelope she’d brought along, and slid some blank pages and coloring sticks into the envelope, too. If she could manage it, she’d ask them to draw her some things from their world.
“Okay, we’re going ahead,” her mother announced, slipping her communicator back into her pocket. “Inspection outside in ten minutes.”
Shallie stood by the door, tapping her foot impatiently as her parents gathered up the things they were taking as meeting-gifts and finally led them outside the pod. Nearby stood three more pods, identical to theirs, where the rest of the mission crew lived. There should have been four, but one family had not come out of the cold sleep when the rest of them had awoken. It had been the other family with a child; all three had died sometime during the voyage, which Shallie thought privately was actually just as well. The deaths hit everyone else in the mission hard, but she thought it would have been worse if only one or two had not awoken. Imagine being the one left? She shook her head. She didn’t want to think sad thoughts now. They were actually going to meet the aliens!
The other mission members emerged and drifted toward them, chatting nervously and checking equipment as they walked.
A gust of wind scudded into her, and tiny bits of dust and sand stung her cheeks. The envelope twisted in her hand, almost flying out of her grasp. She blinked, turning away. “Ow!”
Her father was at her side, shielding her from the wind. “Here, walk beside me,” he said, and she took his hand as they turned their steps toward the meeting place.
Tlik’chik and her family and the rest of the duty clan arrived at the meeting place just a little ahead of the aliens. She was happy about that—it would be so exciting to watch the aliens come into view, walking on their long, skinny legs. One of the first things both sides had done, long ago when communication had been established, was to exchange pictures so each would know what the others looked like. Tlik’chik had studied them diligently, wondering over the aliens’ flat, bare faces, lack of feathers, and long, thin limbs. They weren’t ugly, she’d decided long ago, although some of the duty clan thought they were. They were just different in an interesting way. She liked that they had hair on their heads, like her people did. It made them a little less strange.
Tlik’chik’s mother leaned close. “Are you excited? Not frightened, are you?”
Tlik’chik held up three fingers and shook them, no. “Of course I’m not afraid! This is the most exciting thing ever!”
Her mother smiled and rested a hand on her shoulder for a moment. “Good girl.”
The wind whistled and snapped the leaves of the tree over their heads, whipping even taller cones of dancing dust to life. Tlik’chik reluctantly closed her inner eyelid to protect her vision, hating the way it made the scene before her a little unfocused. Still, she’d see even less with her eyes full of dust.
And here they came!
The aliens crested the top of a low rise, all dressed in similar, one-piece clothing of different colors. They did not seem to march in any ceremonial way but formed a loose group. One smaller alien detached itself from a taller one as they came into view. Tlik’chik thought the shorter one must be the alien child—there was only one among them, just as she was the only one in her duty clan. She fingered the itri-sticks in her tunic pocket nervously, her mouth suddenly gone dry. She hoped the alien child wouldn’t think they were stupid.
As the aliens grew closer, Tlik’chik was relieved to see they weren’t all that much taller than her people. Her father stepped forward and held up a hand in the traditional greeting.
One of the alien females—Tlik’chik knew how to distinguish them, from the pictures—stepped forward and mimicked the gesture, then made one of her own, holding out her hand for Tlik’chik’s father to grasp. Although both sides had prepared the other for what would happen, Tlik’chik felt as if all her feathers were sticking straight out from her body. They touched! They clasped hands! For the first time, two entirely different peoples had come together. Tlik’chik grinned widely and hugged herself.
The leaders began a laborious process of communicating their prepared messages, and Tlik’chik quickly lost interest in what the adults were saying. Her eyes sought and found the alien child—a girl, she realized—who had her eyes fixed on Tlik’chik. The alien girl smiled and pointed to a thin packet she held, then pointed to Tlik’chik.
This is for you, Tlik’chik understood the gesture to mean.
Her heart felt like a stone in her chest. She hadn’t brought a gift for the alien girl! Her hand went automatically to her pocket, and she realized, over a tiny pang of regret, that it would be all right. She’d give her the itri-sticks, not just teach her to play the game! Her father would understand, and he’d help her make a new set.
Tlik’chik glanced at her father and the other adults—they were entirely engrossed with the aliens, just as the alien adults seemed to be with them. The initial greetings were over, and the two groups moved closer together, exchanging ceremonial items and trying out their halting knowledge of each other’s language. Tlik’chik looked back to the alien girl, who jerked her head to the side. Let’s go over there, she seemed to be saying. Tlik’chik inclined her head forward, which she’d learned, for the aliens, meant agreement or yes.
Together they sidled away from the adults, unnoticed, and stopped under another nearby tree, shorter and less impressive but still whipped by the wind. The alien girl had small eyes, the color of bingi flowers. She stood about a head taller than Tlik’chik. She tapped herself on the chest and said, “Shallie.”
This wasn’t a word in the agreed-upon communication exchange, so Tlik’chik thought it must be the girl’s name. She tapped herself likewise and said, “Tlik’chik.”
The other girl’s eyes opened wider and she tried it out. It didn’t sound quite right, but close enough, Tlik’chik decided. She inclined her head again and then tried out the girl’s name. It didn’t sound right to her own ears, but Shallie smiled, so it must have been acceptable.
The tree above them shuddered in a huge gust of wind, its dark-leaved branches creaking. Shallie squealed and put her arms up to cover her head against the harsh peppering of dust the wind lashed into them. When she did, the thin packet whipped out of her fingers and sailed away from them on the gale.
Instinctively, Tlik’chik jumped to catch the packet, and she felt the wind sweep her up and away.
Shallie flailed her arms after the envelope, trying to catch it, even though she knew it was already too far away. She felt a burst of hope when the alien girl leapt for it—but hope quickly turned to fear as she saw the rising wind sweep Tlik’chik off her feet and carry her away.
They must have very light bones, like birds, Shallie heard the scientific side of her mind think. Then after only a brief, startled moment, she ran after the helpless alien. The wind had knocked Tlik’chik down and was tumbling her over the ground like a discarded toy. Even as Shallie ran, the wind whipped and tugged at her coverall with frenzied strength. They hadn’t seen a windstorm this strong since they’d been on the planet, and none had blown in so quickly. A gust pounded against her back and almost sent her stumbling, just as Tlik’chik squealed and coughed, clutching at the ground in an effort to halt her momentum. The alien girl rolled through the swirling dust a couple of times—
—and disappeared.
“No!” Shallie gasped, almost choking on the dust-filled air. Behind her, she heard faint shouts. She glanced over her shoulder and gasped. A towering red-grey wall of wind-whipped dust bore down on her parents and the othe
rs. It looked like a monster, tumbling and swirling, about to swallow them up. She saw her mother, hands cupped around her mouth to call after Shallie, disappear into the dust-monster.
Shocked and stumbling, Shallie sensed the drop-off before she saw it. But not in time to stop her feet from pounding over the edge into nothingness...
It seemed a long time later when Shallie opened her eyes to dim, filtered light. Reddish-grey dust danced and drifted in the sparse beams. She pushed herself to a sitting position, wincing at the pain in her shoulder and hip. She coughed reflexively, feeling half-choked on the dust.
“Oh!” said a voice nearby, and Shallie startled at the dark, hunched shape to her left. She tried to scramble to her feet but fell sideways, her head spinning.
“Tlik’chik! Tlik’chik!” the voice said, and the alien crept over to her, putting one small hand gently on her arm. “Shallie?”
Shallie could have cried with relief. She nodded and patted the alien girl’s hand. “I’m okay, I think,” she said, then realized the girl probably didn’t understand. She met Tlik’chik’s eyes and smiled and nodded, patting her own chest. “Okay.”
Tlik’chik held up a finger and flicked it up and down, which Shallie knew meant yes for the aliens. Then Tlik’chik held out Shallie’s envelope, now slightly crinkled and smudged with dust. “Okay!” she said, beaming.
Shallie took it. It must have blown over the same drop-off she and Tlik’chik had tumbled into, and the alien girl had found it. Carefully, slowly, Shallie stood up and looked around. This seemed to be a natural cavern, but the light came from a long way above them. It looked like hundreds of dust storms had drifted piles of soft sand and dust into the pit, so neither of them had been seriously injured in the fall.
