Maya Bohnhoff - Marsh Mallow

“That’s odd…”

Yoshi’s sudden tension broke the odd spell that had momentarily held Rhys in thrall. As the hand that had lain across his forearm went to her field scanner, he blinked and followed her gaze. Below the cloud of approaching fireflies, the grasses waved and bobbed as if the beating of those tiny wings was creating a massive downdraft. At the water’s edge, no more than thirty feet from where the humans sat, the reeds parted.

“Huh!” snorted Rick. “Mystery solved. I didn’t think those little sprites could create that much commotion.”

Yoshi nodded, watching as two bogdillos slid into the water, their escort of fireflies commingling with the brilliant mist that hovered over the lake. “I forgot they were parasites.”

Rhys stared at the bright water. “Parasites? Or pets?”

“What?”

Rhys was on his feet, keeping his voice low with an effort. “What was the one thing we did see on the security monitor the night the tarps were taken?”

Yoshi had risen too. “Fireflies.”

“And what do fireflies have in common with every one of our potentially sentient species?”

Yoshi’s brow knit. “Bogdillos?”

“ Bogdillos? ” Rick repeated. “But they’re scavengers. They sponge off everybody. They even horn in on the houses the amphibians build.”

“They’ve got symbiotic relationships with not just one other species,” argued Rhys, making emphatic gestures with both hands, “but with three or more. They get fed, petted, and scratched—”

“And in return,” said Godwin, “they provide house plans?”

“No. They provide water! ”

“Water?” echoed Rick. “I don’t—” “Remember the broadleaf plants we couldn’t account for near the simian village? Good God, they were all over the ground in the reptile colony too, I only just realized. What if those are the bogdillo s attempts to provide water to the other species? We came into town with a better system of trapping water, and the bogdillos— having observed what we found interesting—traded some of it for what they found interesting. Namely, big, blue ‘leaves’ that could be used to trap precious water in larger quantities.”

“They’re a diurnal species,” added Yoshi, “yet they have adapted to nocturnal activity by—possibly—harnessing another lifeform to provide light.”

“And just how do you propose to prove this marvelous construct?” Godwin asked, blinking up at them through the eerie faux-twilight. “We’ve heard not murmur one from those bug-dillos of yours. ”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Rick objected. “They could communicate via species-specific telepathy for all we know.”

“We’ll offer further trade,” said Rhys decisively.

Bearing another tarpaulin along with plant and mineral samples Tanaka had found most interesting, Rhys and Rick approached the shore of Brown Salt Lake. Yoshi monitored while Godwin stood by like bored royalty. With Rick behind him holding a tarp, Rhys hunkered at the water’s edge and smacked the surface lightly with the flat of his hand. He repeated this several times, then paused and glanced back over his shoulder to where he could see Yoshi with her vidicam. She was nodding.

“They’re there. Just out beyond that near lodge.”

Glancing to where Yoshi had directed, Rhys could see them too, looking like nothing so much as a clump of giant chocolate marshmallows bobbing in a cup of hot cocoa.

And there, for all of Rhys’s ministrations, they stayed. He had Rick wave the tarp. He laid out the samples of the goods the bogdillos (presumably) had brought them, trying to demonstrate that he would trade one thing for the other. He even left the tarpaulin on the shore and retreated. The marshmallows stayed right where they were, bobbing beneath their radiant canopy.

“I think,” said Godwin, “that I am going to run, screaming, into the jungle. How do you manage to have so bloody much patience? If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were all brain-addled.” He snorted. “Hell, I’m not sure I do know better. Are you all brain-addled?”

“I was beginning to wonder myself,” yawned Rick, gazing at the motionless dumplings.

“They’re waiting for something,” murmured Yoshi. “I can feel it.”

“Oh, now that’s scientific!” Godwin got up and went out to the shore to stare at the flotilla of bogdillos. “I say,” he addressed them. “Are you in the mood for a spot of tea? Eh? How about some anchovy wine or something equally tasty?” He bent over then, and before Rhys could guess his intention, he had tossed a rock out into the water. It landed with a squishy smack! right in front of his alien audience. They dispersed immediately.

Rhys was on his feet in an instant. “Godwin! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The other man turned on him, face red with frustration. “Trying to communicate.”

“Communicate? You frightened them away!”

“At least, my way got some result.”

Rhys took a step toward the other man forcing him to withdraw to the other side of the swamp buggy.

Twilight lingered for perhaps an hour. True darkness fell. Now no fireflies brightened the lake’s murky surface, no bogdillos plowed through the waist-high reeds. Rhys was thoroughly depressed and disgusted, convinced Godwin had ruined their chances of communicating with the Bogian denizens. He was sitting in the stygian darkness between an equally glum Yoshi and a dozing Rick when something thudded to the ground just out of reach. Startled, he leapt to this feet and reached for a palm torch, flipping on the diffuse beam. Yoshi echoed both movements, adding her light to his. Barely an arm’s length from where they had sat was a rock.

“Are they attacking?” Yoshi whispered.

“I don’t know. Kill your beam.” He matched action to word, flicking off his own torch and plunging them into darkness. When nothing else happened, he stepped to where the rock had fallen and knelt to examine it, switching on his torch again to do so. Almost immediately, a second object plopped to earth another three feet or so ahead of him. As he rose to find it with his eyes, the entire lagoon was lit up like the Christmas trees of yore.

Rhys extinguished his torch. The alien insects went dark a heartbeat later. He felt Yoshi at his side and gave her a quick glance before stepping to the second projectile. It proved to be a large, soggy seed-pod of some sort.

“Your torch,” Yoshi whispered.

He turned it on. The fireflies blazed in reply. Another missile fell midway between Rhys and the shoreline. He heard a soft exclamation from behind him, and realized Rick was awake. A fraction of his mind wondered what Godwin was doing just about now. He stepped to the next marker without turning off his torch.

Yoshi flicked hers on as well. “I’ll get the goods.” She was gone for a moment, during which time Rhys responded to another invitation to come closer. He was now a mere foot from the waterline and could see the lumpy shapes of the bogdillos out in the water. He waited, but they came no closer. When a full minute had elapsed, he bent, picked up the rock at his feet and tossed it out into the little lagoon, so that it fell midway between shore and watchers. After a moment of hesitation the bogdillos drew closer, moving as one.

Rhys felt a chill sail up his spine. There was a moment in every first contact Rhys had known when he wondered if the other party would suddenly prove to be fanatically carnivorous xenophobes. In this case, the possibility presented itself that the bogdillos viewed the visiting humans as a potential addition to their petting zoo. He cursed the forefathers of science fiction, chased the ridiculous thought away, and tossed out another rock, this time bringing the arthropods to just over a yard from where he stood. Signaling Yoshi to attend him, he squatted on the shore and began playing charades. He showed the bogdillos the tarpaulin, describing it (“tarp”) in case they could hear him, and demonstrating with a flask of water that he understood what they used it for. Then he displayed the several most valuable of the items they had left in the base camp cargo dump, and lastly, laid the tarpaulin on the shore and stepped back.