| |
The humans scrambled away from the cliff edge as more spears zipped through the air. Hubcap kept an eye out for any that might come arching back down on them. Most of the throws went back into the water or off to the side, but more than once he had to yell at people to be careful.
“You in the blue! Dodge right!”
The heavy-set man moved just in time, a spear clattering down where he’d been. “Gah!”
“Exactly!” Hubcap said, scrambling forward to grab the spear. “Watch the sky!” Moments later it happened again. This time he hit the oncoming spear out of the air with the first one, not bothering to yell at the human in the line of fire. Then the fleshlings were all out of range, and beginning to scramble down the rocky cliff. Hubcap hurried over to supervise.
“Put your foot there,” he instructed. “No, lower — oh hell, let me.” With that, he vaulted over the side to land with deep footprints on the ground far below, spear still in hand. He leaned the spear against the rock and climbed halfway up, then anchored himself in place and served as a stepstool for the humans.
Not a quiet one, though.
“That’s right, step on my shoulder, lean your weight toward the rock like you love it in your strange fleshy way, try not to fall off and land on your head; I hear that hurts a lot — and you better not have stepped in anything gross. If my shoulder gets alien bird poop on it, I will be coming for your shirt to clean it off. Right, good job not plunging to your death. Next! Pass the camera down first! Why did we bring more cameras than backpacks, anyway? For shame.”
The procession went smoothly, with the more agile climbers making their own way down without Hubcap’s help, and only a few minor scrapes and bumps caused by haste or clumsiness.
That extra camera did turn out to be a hindrance, though, when a worker managed to bang it on the rock while passing it down. Everyone winced at the distinctive sound of something snapping off. The man apologized up and down, but it was indeed damaged and expensive.
“Did we bring the spare parts kit, or is it back at base?” Vic asked, inspecting the camera as everyone else climbed down.
“I have some parts, but not many,” Tarja said.
“That’s great. Let’s keep moving,” Hubcap said, picking up the spear. Owen would surely fawn over it when they reached a safer spot.
Owen didn’t notice. “Yes, there could be terrestrial spear-throwers coming our way,” he agreed, pointing in the general direction of the aircar. “Double time!” He took off running.
Hubcap made sure Elliot and the others were accounted for before jogging along. The spear didn’t get in the way too much as long as he was careful. He was glad to see that none of the humans had been injured, so he could focus on watching for threats. That and listening to Owen chatter about First Contact.
“We’ll come back as soon as possible,” Owen was shouting as he ran through knee-high purple grass. “It’s so frustrating that we can’t talk to them! We don’t know what they’ll accept as a white flag! We’re likely to get speared if we get too close!”
Elliot sped past Hubcap into conversation range. “They’re probably just being paranoid because of the eggs,” he said. “Should we look for a safer spot at a different part of the river?”
Hubcap saw Dale filming the conversation. He picked up his own pace to make sure the junior cameraman didn’t plow into a tree. It would have been nice to get footage of himself running dramatically with an alien spear in hand, made of dark brown wood and red shell, but ... priorities. And another camera would surely be online soon.
“That may be our best option,” Owen agreed with Elliot. “And I hope the incoming VIPs bring us a better translator than the one Dr. Rhodes has.”
“While they’re at it,” someone else piped up. “They should appoint a better diplomat. He has no idea what he’s doing.”
Owen pointed a stern finger and took the man to task about respect, while the camera crew tactfully filmed the scenery instead. There were plenty of those black broccoli trees making shadows on the purple grass. Hubcap made sure to position himself in front of Graham’s camera as soon as Dale was past the biggest obstacles. Then he used the spear to hold back bushes for other people.
The rest of the jog passed in relative silence, aside from rustling bushes and muttering humans when they inevitably caught clothes or skin on sharp bits. Dale got his wits about himself and turned off his camera before pushing his way through the worst of the underbrush. Hubcap kept an eye on him anyway, but then he was watching everyone. Poking fun too, whenever it was remotely called for. That always made for fine television. And as far as Hubcap was concerned, a good roasting made the humans more aware of their surroundings. Less likely to do the dumb thing again next time.
“Oh, that was comedy physics 101!” he said when one woman let a branch snap back into another’s face. “I hope someone got that on film. That was beautiful. And you should look out for stickyweed or something in retaliation; she would totally deserve it.”
The two biologists glanced at the cameras and downplayed the incident, though Hubcap heard somebody snicker.
My work here is done, he thought.
The aircar finally came into view between the clumps of thorny brown shrubs that had held the anklebiters before. Hubcap was fully ready to watch the humans walk past the nest again, but Owen remembered and led them around it. A pity, really. Tiny teeth were grating in the bushes, too quiet for the humans to pick up, just ready to do battle against pant legs and shoes. Another day, perhaps.
The group reached the car with no sign of pursuit, and no injury worse than a thorn scratch. Hubcap did his own silent headcount, standing at attention with the spear, while Owen took stock of everyone. The various humans competed to appear least out of breath.
Hubcap was quietly superior about the whole breathing business. It did occur to him that a couple of his joints were probably due for a lubrication touchup though, something that he would never so much as mention in human company. He had a reputation of perfection to maintain.
Not that such a reputation was difficult when the meatlings were so fragile, of course. If today’s ride back to base was free of the stink of fear, that would be delightful.
“And a million thank-yous to Hubcap, for catching one of the spears!” Owen said, turning to him with hands out. “May I see it?”
Hubcap handed the thing over with a flourish, as if presenting an ancient sword. Owen was gratifyingly pleased.
“Look at the craftsmanship,” he enthused while three of the four cameras closed in. “This is polished to a shine, and likely coated with something to make it waterproof. And the carvings! Are these for grip, do you think, or do they have some other meaning?”
Elliot stepped forward to jabber away with him. Hubcap let them, adding his two cents about the patterns before slipping away into the background. Vic was searching pockets for something to fix her camera.
“So, what broke?” Hubcap asked.
Vic shook her head. “Just the clip that holds the directional microphone in place. Thought we’d lost the whole piece, but it’s just the attachment. Can’t really use it without a way of holding it on, though.”
Hubcap held up a finger. “Allow me.” He pressed a hand to the blank center of his chest, which had once lit up with a rescue halo. Now it slid back at his touch to display the duct tape dispenser that he hadn’t needed to use in weeks. He tore off a piece and made grabby motions for the camera.
Vic surrendered it with a smirk that said she was humoring him. Hubcap deftly applied the silver tape, strapping the microphone down in a manner both secure and stylish, then handed it back.
“Ta-da. I have saved the day once again.”
“Thank you,” Vic said, pressing buttons to test it. “Good old duct tape.”
“Indeed! It even substitutes for stitches, making it useful for fixing both machinery and messy organisms such as yourself.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Vic said. “Let’s see what our next move is.”
Owen and Elliot were discussing just that. Owen favored setting out for a different part of the river on foot, while Elliot insisted that scouting from high above would be wiser. Hubcap settled the argument by stepping bodily between them and pointing at the bushes where he’d just seen a flash of color.
“Hey,” he said. “Alien ahoy.”
The humans clammed up and turned as one to regard the greenery with healthy suspicion. Owen even leveled the spear in that direction as if he knew how to use it. Silence fell. Cameras whirred and distant bird-things shrieked.
Hubcap’s heat vision said that there were two patches of warmth holding very still. “They haven’t thrown spears yet,” Hubcap observed. “They may not be planning on it.”
“Everyone slowly get into the car,” Owen said. “Be ready. The door opening might scare them.”
Xian was closest to the door. He slid it open gently, wincing at the rumble of metal wheels. Nothing moved in the bushes. Xian climbed in, followed by the other humans in single file. Hubcap hung back next to Owen. He kept one eye on the shrubbery and one on the camera crew. Vic made sure they all got onboard quickly enough, leaving Hubcap to watch for aliens. He heard Elliot narrating quietly from inside the car.
Owen was the last human to board, waving for Hubcap to join him. He did, closing the rolling door behind himself, his eyes glued on the bushes. They remained still. Eager humans gathered around him to watch through the windows.
For a long moment, everything was quiet. Wind made the purple grass wave while the green-brown shrubbery didn’t budge. An airy clump of darkness drifted past, making Hubcap realize that the black trees were more akin to cattails than broccoli. If all that seed-fluff released at once, it would likely coat the area with a layer that would make the humans want face masks. Hubcap, of course, would frolic through it gleefully.
Something moved. Hubcap snapped to attention as a glimpse of pink slid into the open: a pair of four-legged colortalkers with no spears, no armor, and very cautious demeanor.
Elliot appeared next to him. “They don’t look like they were sent to chase us away,” he whispered. Cameras whirred over both shoulders.
Owen spoke up from Hubcap’s other side. “Everyone be very quiet. We don’t want to frighten them.”
“Can they see us?” Hubcap wondered as the two creatures ventured nearer, moving in quick steps with their lizardy bodies held close to the ground.
“Probably?” Elliot guessed. “If they look up high enough?”
The two aliens scuttled around the aircar, inspecting it with growing curiosity but not seeming to notice the many faces at the windows. They touched the metal surface in what looked like awe, patting it and even scratching with significant vigor. If the car hadn’t been designed to withstand tree branches and much worse, Hubcap would have expected someone to flinch about the paint job. Humans, he had learned, cared a lot about their vehicles’ paint jobs.
“Stand back,” Owen whispered. “I’m going to open the door.”
Hubcap took a large step away, pulling Elliot by the sleeve and rearranging the camera crew. They were too busy filming to complain at him. The other humans in the car likewise made space, a few looking very nervous about it. One guy picked up the spear from where Owen had leaned it against a seat, but Xian convinced him to put it down.
Owen slid open the door.
The aliens were around the front of the car, their yellow-and-green tails visible from where Hubcap stood. He watched the tails slip out of sight as the creatures turned, then two beaky faces peered into the doorway.
It had to have been a shock, seeing a crowd of unfamiliar beings all staring back like that. Both of the aliens broke out in surprised colorbursts, one twitching in golden tones before settling down to greens, and the other doing far more.
It physically jumped into the air — the first time Hubcap had seen one of them do that — then stood there shivering with growing intensity. Its colors flared into bright ripples of red and orange, then those ripples started blinking on and off like the mating pairs’ had done. By the squinting the other humans were doing, Hubcap could tell that they found it hard to look at.
“Is it frenzying?” someone asked in a loud whisper. The crowd edged back further from the open door.
Hubcap focused on the other alien. He would have expected it to tend to its friend, maybe do some arcane thing to banish the frenzy. But it didn’t. Instead, it stared for a heartbeat, then jumped back, waving its hands through the air like it was brushing away parasitic flies.
“Wait, what’s that one doing?” Elliot asked. Owen scrambled forward.
The second alien was jumping about the clearing, bucking and dodging, then it took off through the trees like a cat fleeing a vacuum cleaner.
The first alien had collapsed to the ground, still twitching and starting to foam at the mouth. Owen stood over it and dithered about, one hand going to his SedEgg before looking to Xian for help. The medic pushed past other humans to join him.
Hubcap held a hand in front of Elliot’s face, commanding him silently to stay, then hopped out onto the purple grass where the alien was dying of frenzy.
“Should we sedate it?” Owen asked desperately. “That doesn’t usually work on native life!”
“Worth a try,” Xian said, crouching with his own SedEgg. The colortalker was curled into a ball, shaking like mad and staring blindly ahead. Hubcap could almost hear its organs shutting down. Xian pressed the many needles against its shoulderblade.
The sedative did nothing. In moments, the colortalker was still on the grass, its blinking colors faded to a dull white. There was silence from the aircar.
The humans knelt and stared at the alien. Hubcap stood behind them looking into the woods, in the direction of the one that had run off.
“Pretty sure that really wasn’t our fault,” he said. “Now what?”