by Martin Tays
“Yeah, probably.” Moses nodded. “But let’s not make it a habit, okay?”
“No, sir.” Mattie pointed at their visitors. “Only when we meet alien life forms.”
“Fair enough.” He gestured to the first alien to enter the airlock. “This is their lead engineer. He has been in charge of all research on the probe. His name is S’Nhu-gli.” He glanced over to Fiona, who had clapped her hand over Doug’s mouth, and nodded. “Thanks.”
“And this…” Pointing to the other alien, “Is General K’har-atah. He is, obviously, military and in charge of the overall operation, so lets try to not annoy him. ‘Kay?”
Doctor Smith had pushed his way to the front of the group. He approached S’Nhu-gli, studying him intently. The alien studied him back, and finally held his forepaw out. Smith grabbed it and began manipulating it, continuing up to examine S’Nhu-gli’s skull, eyes, ears, even his teeth. Moses cleared his throat pointedly. The doctor looked over, startled, and said “Oh, sorry… I’m being pushy again, aren’t I?”
S’Nhu-gli was typing, and Moses pushed over to read what he had written. “I am not harmed. He is fascinated by the unknown, as are we. Is he a priest, also?”
“Doc, he wants to know if you’re a priest.” He turned back to the alien. “Actually, he is a doctor. A healer.” Moses glanced back toward Smith. “One with no bedside manners whatsoever.”
“Ah, so he is a priest, then.”
Moses looked back toward S’Nhu-gli. “You know, I’ve got a bunch of questions for you about that society of yours.”
“And I you.” S’Nhu-gli replied. “But I’m sure they can wait. I believe the other shuttle has docked.”
Moses glanced over. Sure enough, the hatch on the other side of the corridor entry room was opening. Ami pushed through, followed by T’Han-mri, Cath and Sandar. T’Han-mri turned to the waiting humans and spoke haltingly but understandably. “Hello. I am… happy… to meet you.”
Moses looked over at Ami, surprised. She grinned and said “She wanted to know how to say it, so we’ve been having a language lesson.”
“Cool. Learn anything in her language?”
She nodded. “I learned how to say, ‘hello’, ‘goodbye’ and ‘thank you’. You?”
“Yep.” He nodded in response. “I learned how to say ‘bullshit’.”
Ami made a wry face. “I knew it was a bad idea to put all the men on one shuttle.”
“Hey, come on.” Moses protested. “I learned a new way to scratch myself.” He looked around at the group and raised his voice. “Okay, folks. First, we need someone back on watch. Who’s on the roster?”
Leo sighed and raised his hand. “That would be me.”
“Off you go.” Moses replied, pointing down the corridor. “I’ll send someone up to relieve you in an hour or so.”
“I hate it when you’re right.”
“Chin up. It doesn’t happen that often.” He looked over at Ami as Leo made his way forward. “Why don’t you go get a couple of pcomps out of ship’s stores? Set ‘em for holographic display, so they don’t have to carry those damn pads around any more. I’d say get three, but apparently English is beneath the general.” He glanced over to S’Nhu-gli, who was wrinkling his muzzle at the last remark.
“Everyone else?” He gestured down the corridor. “Take off. Cath and I are going to give them the grand tour. Meet us in the mess decks in about an hour.” There was some grumbling, but everyone finally cleared out.
He turned toward his guests in the now much quieter entry room. “Sorry about the circus. They’re just all curious.”
“As are we.” S’Nhu-gli replied. “There is nothing to apologize about.”
“No, I guess not. They’re good people.” He paused, then continued in a quieter tone of voice. “They’re good friends. I wouldn’t trade them for the world.” He looked back toward the alien, smiled, and added “Yours or mine.”
K’Har-atah growled something. S’Nhu-gli spoke with him briefly, the looked back at Moses. “The general wishes to dispense with ― the phrase he used means ‘empty words’ ― and continue with the tour so that he can better assess your capabilities.”
“You mean better assess our threat.”
S’Nhu-gli just wrinkled his muzzle in reply.
“Okay, then.” Moses clapped his hands together, startling the three aliens, then gestured to Cath. “Let’s go walkabout.”
“Well, of course God means something different to everyone, and always has. That’s the trick, there. See folk have started questioning how God has ‘changed’ since they no longer have to worry about aging.
He’s no more changed from our discovering this technology than he changed after we discovered fire, or steam power, or frozen waffles. The only thing that’s changed is how we perceive him.
“Me? I still think he’s a pretty cool dude.”
Timothy Jackson, on “Father Tim’s Power Hour”
“I’ve never quite gotten the whole ‘God’ thing. But then I’ve never understood stamp collectors, either.
“I guess it keeps ‘em out of trouble.”
Ob Hughes, from “That About Wraps It Up For Oolon Colluphid”
“I am two hundred and twenty seven years old, and have been a priest for over a hundred and fifty of those years.
“And I have never, not once, performed the rite of Extreme Unction. Just an unending stream of marriage, confession, confirmation and bingo.
“It’s kind of weird, when you think about it. Like a surgeon who trains for a hundred years, but never gets the chance to actually operate on a person.
“It’s enough to drive you crazy, sometimes.”
Father Andrew Little Bear, from “Does the Pope Wear Pants? And Other Curious Catholic Questions”
Chapter 22
“If youth but had the knowledge and old age the strength.”
French Proverb
“Father, are you certain about this?”
S’Nhu-gli cast his bundled pressure suit into the airlock, along with the packages of food and nutritional supplements he though he might need, before turning back to his daughter. “Yes. We must learn everything we can about these people, and I cannot think of a better way to do so than to travel with them.”
“Yes, but why you?” T’Han-mri replied angrily.
“And who else?” He replied reasonably. “There are only the two of us who speak their language well enough to communicate, and you must operate the drive on the warship.”
“The warship.” She gestured around her. “The humaans name their ships, as if they were people. Why do they do that?”
“I found that curious, also.” He reached out and touched the bulkhead. “Why name a machine? A remnant of a superstition, perhaps?”
“Perhaps. But that is…” They both spoke the humaan word together. “Irrelevant.”
“Exactly.” His muzzle wrinkled in amusement. “You are correct. It is a very useful word. I like these people, child. I like this M’Hoses. He seems remarkably… young, to be so old.” He looked over at her. “He is named after a priest, did you know? His mate informed me of that.”
“Really? Curious. You would think that only a priest would be named after a priest.”
S’Nhu-gli shrugged, a gesture he’d picked up from the humaans. “There is something of the priest about him. He has the heart of one, anyway. In fact, I told him that.”
“I am curious how he responded.”
“He replied that he indeed used to have one, but that he stored it improperly and of a consequence had to dispose of it.”
She made a face. “This M’Hoses seems to set great store in humor. Wait.” She looked over. “That was humor, wasn’t it?”
“I believe so. At least the reaction of the humaan A’Hme to his st
atement seemed to indicate it, anyway.”
“Ah. She made that horrible ‘laughing’ noise again?”
“No. She struck him.”
“These are very strange people, Father.” She shook her head, then wrinkled. “But I agree with you. I like them. Do you believe they are representative of their race?”
“Do you believe that we are representative of ours?”
“Yes.” T’Han-mri looked around at the interior of the shuttle, then back to her father. “Yes, Father, I believe we are.”
“Then so must they be. And I must be going. Please, child, be careful. The priest C’Ath has made me aware of how dangerous our drive arrangement is.”
“She spoke with me about it, also. At some length, and using some extraordinary humaan expletives,” she replied. She then cocked her head, curious. “Were you aware that the humaan S’Handar is her mate?”
“Indeed? Interesting. I had believed that S’Handar was a female of their species.”
“She is. They are both female.”
“Curious. I would think that the smell would be wrong.”
“They do not seem to rely on smell for their mating choices at all, Father.”
There was an amused look in his eyes. “That must make things much easier, actually.”
Her muzzle wrinkled in reply, then she turned serious. “Please, Father, take care.” She reached out and grabbed his forefeet.
“I shall, child. And I will see you at home. Now, I believe that the humaans are waiting.”
She made a face. “And be careful tasting their food.”
“You’re just concerned about the…” He paused. “What was it again? ‘Ice crime’?”
“Father, it tasted like frozen offal.”
“It tasted like very flavorful frozen offal. Really, I’m fascinated by this ‘chocolate’ substance.” He glanced over, amusement in his features. “Do they mine it, do you think?”
“Father, I believe you have been with this M’Hoses too long. Your humor grows strange.”
“I was being humorous?”
“I choose to believe so. Go, Father, and may the Maker travel with you.”
They embraced. “And with you, child.” S’Nhu-gli replied, holding her tight. “And with you.”
☼
“You are certain that this is not an accurate representation of events?” S’Nhu-gli waved toward the now dark monitor Moses had rigged on the mess deck to allow him to view what the crew saw via the video windows. He relaxed on the special couch Leo had put together for him as he gestured.
Moses smiled. “No, Snug… S’Nhu-glee. Did I get that right?”
“Better,” replied the alien equitably, “than me.”
“Anyway, in a word, no.” Moses continued. “I think I’m fairly safe in saying that that,” he pointed at the now dark screen, “was made up.”
“I am glad. These… z’hombies?” He paused, considering, then nodded in a remarkably human fashion as he continued. “Yes, z’hombies. They seem to be very difficult creatures to deal with.”
“Well, George Romero certainly thought so,” Moses agreed. “And you pronounced that quite well, by the way.”
“Thank you.” S’Nhu-gli had been working diligently on his spoken English over the weeks he’d been on board. Since he was already familiar with the written language, he mainly had to deal with pronunciation. Moses and company had been careful not to laugh at some of the more… fascinating… ways that he’d found to pronounce words.
“Are you corrupting another innocent mind with one of your moldy old movies, Moses?” They both turned to see Fiona, fresh off watch, enter the room.
“Yes.” Moses nodded seriously. “Yes, in fact I am. I almost have him under my control.”
The alien turned toward the girl and rubbed both his fore and mid feet together. He cocked his head to one side and intoned “Shall I imprison this one, Master? Her brains seem… plump.” Moses laughed so hard he fell out of his chair.
Fiona looked down and blushed, then hurriedly went into the galley area.
Moses stood and, still chuckling, went over to pour himself a cup of coffee. He waved another cup at S’Nhu-gli questioningly. “Cuppa joe?”
“No! Please. Thank you. No.” the priest replied quickly. One experiment with coffee seemed to have been enough.
“Hot chocolate, then?”
“Now that you may tempt me with.”
Moses nodded and returned with two steaming cups. He put one in front of the alien and sat down opposite him. “So. How are things going with Clive?”
“Your doctor is a… curious man.”
“Do you mean curious as in ‘questioning’ or curious as in ‘strange’?” Moses asked, sipping his coffee.
“Well, I believe I mean both, now that I think about the word. But at first I meant ‘strange’.”
He nodded. “That he is. I like him, but he’s an odd duck.”
“Did you really bring him on this voyage against his will?” S’Nhu-gli looked over, curiosity ― along with a tiny bit of whipped cream ― evident on his face.
“Yeah.” Moses grimaced. “I’m not proud of that.”
“He harbors much resentment over that occurrence.”
“I’m not at all surprised. I’d be pissed off about it, myself.”
“However,” the priest continued, “I believe he feels grateful to you, also, for affording him this opportunity of learning. Feeling both anger and gratitude toward you distresses him, I believe. Which, in turn, makes him… how did you put it?” He looked over toward Moses. “Moist and difficult to ignite?”
Moses nodded. “Close enough. You know, you make a pretty good armchair shrink, dude. Remind me to tell you about my childhood.”
“I will be certain to schedule several hours.” S’Nhu-gli replied, muzzle wrinkling. “I shall need it, I am sure.”
“And Moses gets zinged.” Ami supplied helpfully from the doorway.
Moses turned and smiled. “How long have you been standing there?” he asked.
“Long enough.” She looked over to S’Nhu-gli. “You mean that the doctor is still not done with you?”
“It is curious. And again I mean the word in its usage as ‘strange.’ I would have believed that he would be out of tests to perform. But he has been viewing my internal arrangement, drawing samples of my fluids, even injecting me with substances…” He looked over toward Moses. “I assume in an effort to ascertain their effects.”
“Wait a minute.” Moses looked over at him. “He’s been injecting you? With what?”
“I do not know. Whatever it is, though, I feel I cannot complain. I have had problems with my joints for several years. Recently, this has become quite distracting. This pain no longer bothers me.”
“Really? Huh.” Moses shared a look with Ami.
“Indeed. Even my vision seems more crisp.”
“Even… no. He didn’t.” Moses stared at the alien, then looked back toward Ami. “He wouldn’t. Would he? Could he?” Ami didn’t answer, but her expression mirrored his concern.
Moses stood, coffee forgotten. “I believe…” he said in an even, flat tone of voice, “that Doctor Smith and I need to have a little talk.”
“I shall speak with friend A’Hme until you return, then.”
Moses nodded and left the mess deck. S’Nhu-gli turned to Ami. “Excuse me. I find myself, in turn, curious. In what way is Doctor Smith a duck?”
☼
“I trusted you! You stupid son of a bitch! What were you THINKING?”
With one hand, Moses was holding a grabrail. With the other he held Smith by the front of his shipsuit with a white knuckled grip. Smith had both his hands wrapped around Moses’ wrist to brace himself against t
he Captain’s kinetic questioning technique. Otherwise, though, he seemed remarkably calm as he replied.
“Quite simple. What I was thinking, Captain, is that I am a doctor. I heal people. It is not just my job. It is what I am.”
He regarded the doctor levelly for a moment, then abruptly released him. Smith drifted back, then grabbed a handrail, orienting himself to Moses. He straightened his clothing, considered him briefly, and continued. “What did you expect me to do?”
“I’m not sure, but I’ll tell you what I didn’t expect.” He jabbed his finger at the doctor. “I didn’t expect you to stick a full goddamn biomed nanonanny package in him without his goddamn knowledge.”
Smith shrugged. “He had major arterial plaque, fairly debilitating arthritis, diminished visual faculties, a precancerous growth… if I use the daughter’s perfectly healthy scan as a baseline, then he was in pretty bad shape. Excuse me, pretty goddamn bad shape.”
“He was just old.”
“He was dying.”
Moses had to look away. “He said himself that he had another five, six years before he… oh, crap.” He looked back over, hesitated, then sighed. “Okay. That sounded as bad to me as it did to you.
“Look, this is the problem. He believes ― his people believe ― that life is a cycle. That they die and are reborn to live again. He told me that some of his people would think that being stuck in one life would destroy that and that means that life extension would need to be approached very carefully.”
“Oh, come now,” Smith snorted.
“I didn’t say I believed it.” Moses paused, then shrugged. “Didn’t say I didn’t, either. It’s a strange damn universe. But the point is… damn it, man, he should have been able to make the choice for himself. What you did was unethical.”
The doctor’s eyes widened. “But… but I…”
