by Ken Pence
The face belonged to the man; the being, that Andrew had helped earlier. That shock I received must have damaged me more than temporarily and this being is trying to help me, Andrew thought.
"How bad am I hurt?" Andrew wheezed, barely able to force any sound out of his throat. It was hard to control his lungs enough to talk.
When there wasn't any response Andrew tried again. "Hey, where am I?"
Rett spoke, "What is the unit's purpose that you wear on your arm?"
Andrew was shocked because though he understood what the being had said, he had not spoken an Earth language. Andrew knew several languages, but this was similar to none he had ever heard.
"If you try, you can now reply in my language," Rett said.
"I'm paralyzed, do you know what is wrong?" Andrew gasped hardly able to breathe and was startled to find that he answered in the same language.
The alien, for it was obvious to Andrew that this being was alien to Earth and not just a deformed human; left his view and suddenly he had control of his body.
"Hey! I can move. What did you do?" Andrew asked while attempting to sit up.
"I released the restrain field. What is the purpose of the unit that you wear on your arm?"
"That’s just a Mem-dex. Where am I? Why'd you bring me here?" Andrew asked in English as he sat on the edge of a long metal bench and scanned the wall of instruments on one side of the otherwise small, bare room.
Andrew was too stunned to attempt to leave and his curiosity was piqued.
"Speak in Trade. What is the purpose of the Mem-dex and how does it function?" Rett asked with emphasis. "How is it powered? I did not see a power source."
"It just uses the differential between body heat and room temperature and serves as a calculator and artificial memory index file when not hooked to wireless services." Andrew visualized an odd electric-mechanical calculator as he thought of the word calculator and services in the alien language but wireless didn’t translate well. Thinking about wireless showed that the aliens did understand radio frequency at different frequencies but the ‘side-thoughts’ of equipment designs dated back to the 30’s or ‘40s…1930s and 1940s…certainly not 2070.
"How does it function?" Rett asked again.
Andrew paused to consider his surroundings and this line of questioning and decided it was wiser to answer.
"It tells the time, receives weather and emergency broadcasts, reminds me of important dates and appointments, and helps me in laboratory work with its index of research data and formulas in several branches of science and engineering. It links me through the Net at the University, pays my expensesnfor meals or supplies I need at school. Sometimes I even talk with it but most of the time, it's pretty predictable," Andrew said.
"Then it is a receiver that connects you to a library, computation center. You contact the center through this device and it receives their replies," Rett stated feeling more confident. "It is very compact, where is the speaker? So you are still in training?” The statement seemed derogatory.
Andrew put his chin in his hand while he pondered this revelation. If this guy is an alien, then he used some pretty advanced technology to get here. How advanced do we want to appear to be to this dude?
Andrew considered Earth’s' many tries at planetary exploration in the Solar system and thought how poorly they compared to interstellar travel.
This guy also has an interesting teaching method. Thinking of food and water after that teaching machine only produced visions of nauseating foods and drinks...funny, how thinking of food only makes me thirsty and then nauseated by visions of atrocious food dishes and aliens eating. It's pretty fast, much faster than our training machines; maybe that's why I have a headache.
"How does it make sound?" Rett insisted.
Andrew was shaken out of his reverie and realized he'd been daydreaming even in this bizarre setting.
Though Andrew couldn't detect anger in this language yet, he could understand volume and realized this being was disturbed. Andrew replied on impulse. "It uses a ‘Rimloff f-effect solid-state ionization’ speaker.” None of the technical jargon brought up phrases or pictures in the native’s language except ionization…curious. “By the way, my name's Andrew." The "Andrew" sounded odd while speaking this strange language. Maybe this Me Tarzan, You Jane routine will distract him from the fact that molecular electronics may be something these fellows don't have.
"What is your name?" Andrew asked the alien.
Rett was horrified. Certainly this... ...this beast wasn't asking him his name. How disgusting to ask another your name when you meet, and there was no question other than that is what this being meant. Rett was revolted even though he knew intellectually that customs varied even in his own culture.
"Solid-state means all the parts are encased and don't move around," Andrew improvised. "What is your name?" Andrew queried again.
Only Rett's self-control and superiority over this native kept him from rending the native limb-from-limb at this point.
Andrew noticed that the alien had stiffened but wondered at the lack of response to his question. Maybe he didn't have a name but had a number. No, name was very clear in meaning in this language, now that I think about it. Maybe I ought to see about getting away from here.
Rett was thinking... since this device is just a more compact receiver than our devices, it is of no real advance to me. This native is becoming a burden…especially with its disgusting habits. Imagine when I gave it some water; it drank it right while I was watching. I do have a perverse curiosity about its habits though. Now I shall determine its level of progress. At least, it is acting sane.
"Do you know what a stressed space-field is?" Rett asked.
Andrew was preparing to say no when the flood of associative data and pictures flooded into his mind. Apparently, thinking of a word or concept would bring pictures of equipment or fairly complex explanations of that concept into his head. Andrew now wished only to get back to the university now that he realized what the teaching machine had given him.
"No, I do not," Andrew said.
"Has your planet had any travel in space and how much?" Rett asked.
Andrew paused before replying. "We have sent manned probes to our moon and to some of this system’s planets and their moons. We have sent unmanned probes past all planets in our system and have sent two interstellar probes to a nearby star." Andrew didn't know how much this alien knew about Earth culture and thought it best to keep pretty close to historical fact. Andrew wasn't about to tell him that there had been no expeditions or probes for nearly forty years now, at least not since the last Mars mission in the early 30’s.
"What method did these space vehicles use for movement?" Rett queried.
"Most used chemical propulsion... but the two interstellar probes used some type of nuclear-ionic propulsion using Xenon gas accelerated by a strong electrical field." Andrew visualized strange visions of chemical propulsion and though the nuclear part seemed almost recognizable, the ionic method visualized with odd side thoughts at all and had to be referred to in an Earth language…, he thought. Xenon was clear as to what he actually called it…it translated to a rare gas that does not mix well with other chemicals and releases a bluish-white light when flow magnetism is passed through it at low pressure.
How primitive, chemical, this "nuclear-ionic" was probably some odd variation not worth my time, Rett thought. These people did pretty good to travel to any of their planets using chemical means. Rett thought about how his people had leaped into space in their early industrial age because of power supplies and field generators given by visitors to his planet. His people had traveled in space for many hundreds of years. How terrible it must be to live so close to each other as he had seem indications of large groups of buildings in some areas of the planet before landing. How could one live with the ideas and opinions of others unless forced to by being planet bound with the thin air and weak gravity of this planet.
"How long i
s your average life?" Rett asked, abruptly changing the subject.
This fellow gets to the heart of our nature, Andrew thought as he prepared his answer; "About ninety revolutions of this planet around the sun," he answered stretching a bit since that life span was only in North America and most of Europe.
So brief, Rett thought, no wonder they quickly reached their level of technology. At least this means that they are better prepared to face death having so short a lifespan. Better to dispose of it now than to have it report my presence to its associates with some of the knowledge it has obtained through my language machine.
Andrew became very uncomfortable after answering because the alien just stood there dully looking straight ahead and not saying anything. What is it thinking about? Maybe I ought to try the Me Tarzan, You Jane thing again. At least, it gave him a start last time.
"My name is Andrew. What is your name?" Andrew asked trying to break the silence.
Again, this implied intimacy. Rett’s outrage and indignation caused him to hasten his timetable for disposal of the native. Rett leaped forward and grabbed one of the native's arms while preparing to grab the other so he could render the soft-skinned, sickening sweet smelling native into small pieces.
Damn, what did I say? Andrew thought as the alien jumped at him and grabbed him above his left elbow. The pain shot through him as he felt his left arm being crushed. Reflex came to his aid where calm rational thought had deserted him and cupping his right hand, he popped it over the alien's left ear hoping to rupture the eardrum. The alien let out a screaming bellow and clutched his damaged ear with its free hand but tightened the grip on Andrew's arm.
As the pain washed through him, Andrew hit with his fist to the alien's general throat area but only hurt his hand on the tough skin. The alien then slung him around the room bellowing and holding its ear with one hand while holding onto Andrew's arm with the other and smashing him from one side of the room to the other. In desperation, with the room passing back and forth from wall to wall, Andrew jabbed his fingers of his right hand into one of the alien's eyes.
The alien began to bellow louder and smashed Andrew down onto the table. He let go and started threshing around the room, alternately trying to grab Andrew and its head at the same time.
Andrew jumped past the alien and made for something that looked like an exit to the room and came to a short closed corridor almost immediately. It was a door, but was it an exit? Andrew could hear the whimper and scream of the alien and this added impetus to his desire to escape this place. The door had a grip mechanism that took all of Andrew's strength with both hands to squeeze it, the pain from his left arm numbing his strength. Andrew put one foot against the wall and arched his back with the pull since the door appeared to open inward somehow. The door suddenly swung straight in and then slid to the right almost parallel to the right wall. Andrew thanked his luck and jumped down to the dirt only a couple of meters below the doorway.
In the dim night air, Andrew stumbled and ran from the 'ship' without looking back. He ran ‘til his chest burned and he collapsed – gulping for air. So much for interstellar diplomacy, he thought before passing out.
REVERSE ENGINEERING – NEW POWER
When Andrew came to, it was dawn and quite chilly. Every part of his body ached. His left arm was bruised deeply and quite swollen. Andrew could hardly swallow…his mouth was so dry.
This had better be a bad dream because I'm ready to wake up. The discomfort and outright pain seem real enough, thought Andrew. Guess I’d better see about getting back to the university before dark. I'd wager that my friends haven't even missed me yet. I wasn't supposed to meet anyone until Monday, before our group meeting.
It was early enough in the morning to see which direction the sun had risen and there were still tracks on the ground showing the direction he had run from last night.
Damn. Now, I have to go back the way I came to get back to the vicinity of the university. There isn’t much of anything out in the direction I was headed except more of this desert. Too bad I didn't get a direction from the stars last night, so I'd, at least, have been heading right. I didn’t have time for a star sighting I guess. Andrew doggedly plodded along his tracks.
It wasn't tough going, but when you are totally exhausted, hungry, and thirsty, even a straight walk becomes a trial. It was a tribute to Andrew's physical conditioning that it only took the better part of an hour to stumble back to the area of the alien's ship.
Andrew lay in the dirt and rocks on a slight hill overlooking the ship. What a design! The damn thing wasn't nearly as big as I imagined. It was only about five meters in diameter. An upright gray cylinder about five or six meters high resting on a curved, gimbaled disc about seven meters in diameter with a large, round, mesh-like umbrella dish about the top of the cylinder. Tiny ship… compared to even the old, Russian or Chinese shuttles… even if anyone flew shuttles anymore…which they didn’t. There hadn’t been any manned flights that he knew about, in years. Hell. No one will believe anything about this…this incident…and space stories aren’t vogue…at all. People still don’t travel as much as they used to before the sickness years.
The hatch door was open and within reach of the ground, but there wasn't any ladder. Well, I know that I'm at least a day's walk away from the university, but that means walking without any water and hoping I end up near the car on my first try. It could be close to six klicks to the car. That trip is going to be pretty rough with only scrub bushes and absolutely no survival tools, he thought.
If I make it through this little ordeal, I’m determined I’m never going to be caught flatfooted again with no plastic sheet to make a little solar survival still, no knife, and no fire starter kit. Quit bitchin’ he thought. I wonder why the ship’s still here… And not even an energy bar struck in pocket. Is the ship damaged? Well…I wouldn’t get anything done sitting here pondering will I? No time like the present to scope it out, he thought and he got up into a half crouched position.
As Andrew was edging back from the hill, he noticed some tracks in the dirt off to his left. Following them over the rise with his eyes in one direction, he traced them back to the ship! There was just one set of distinct tracks going away from the ship. There were other tracks -- earlier tracks already partially filled in from the steady winds in the area, but just the one set of new ones. That changes my statistics, Andrew thought, since the alien has left and hasn't returned yet.
Sprinting from the cover of the hill, Andrew crossed the open space quickly until he got to the edge of the cylinder below the hatch. He noticed how deep the tracks were below the hatch and finally realized how heavy the alien really was. Andrew marveled at his escape of the night before.
Andrew looked into the distance and then straining to hear any indication of another being, moved under the hatch. He had to jump to get his hands to reach the bottom of the opening and when his full weight was on his arms, he let out a whimper of pain. His arms seemed to be on fire as he struggled and got his chest over the bottom of the opening. He lay there panting; hanging half in and half out of the hatch. When he recovered sufficiently he struggled the rest of the way in and stood up. He began to move toward the larger central room of the ship, where he had been before, while trying not to touch any instruments.
It was only after he had gone a few steps that he even thought about automatic protective devices.
Well, I just hope that there aren't any. There are no labels on any of the instruments or on any cabinets, of course...my luck. I don't even know if that language training covered written language or if that language would even be the one I learned. I have to get some water and food.
When he thought of water and food, his mind provided many pictures from the language training. Maybe this could be useful, he thought as he realized a section of the room, which dealt with food and water.
He found a set of cabinets and by alternately opening doors, found a whole shelf of quasi-elastic balls with a nipple like ope
ning. When he pulled one off the shelf, he noticed it had been attached to a detachable tube sticking out of the bottom of the cabinet. Shaking the ball produced a satisfying sloshing noise. After smelling the nipple, part of the container to make sure it wasn't some chemical cleaner or something similar, he put it to his lips and then jerked it back away.
I've gotta’ be crazy to be here and if I really am where I think I am. It's against all training to drink something because you think it may be water. I'm desperate; he thought as he eased the ball to his cracked, dry lips and sipped.
The liquid seems to soak right into the lining of his mouth. Good, it is so good. All restraint gone, Andrew gulped half of the container before he realized drinking like this would just make him sick so he forced the glorious warm, flat water-ball from his lips. He took two more balls from the cabinet and stuck them inside his shirt.
Gingerly sipping from the first ball, he looked for food but gave up the search after he undoubtedly found it. He found a cabinet next to the water cabinet full of five different types of small wrapped rectangles of food. Even opening the cabinet released a smell that would cause the staunchest stomach to lurch.
