Peter Cawdron - Xenophobia

“So they were dropping probes like sonar buoys?” Elvis asked.

“Yes. They weren’t seeding Earth, they were surveying our biology, gathering information on our ecosystem in much the same way we would conduct a survey of life in a rainforest. Well, it’s only a theory, my theory, but I think that’s why they left. The survey was complete.”

“But that makes no sense,” Elvis said. “They’ve come all this way, why leave so soon?”

“Look at us,” Dr. Ambar said. “We’ve been acting like spoiled brats. We’ve been throwing tantrums, carrying on like they owe us something. They owe us nothing. Our focus has been so insular, so egotistical. Earth is about us, humans, homo sapiens. Maybe, just maybe, they disagree.

“We can rage all we want, but they don’t owe us anything. As hard as it is to accept, there’s a lesson here for humanity: the universe does not revolve around our every whim.”

Dr. Ambar stepped slowly past Elvis, reaching out toward the alien creature.

“We killed hundreds of them, but we’re not even sure how in most cases. Once the decay process starts their bodies are gone within days, leaving nothing but trace elements. Most of them died in the crashes. Those that survived were hunted down and killed by fearful soldiers from all countries, and yet our bullets never so much as scratched their magnificent frame. So curious.”

Stella allowed Dr. Ambar to touch her stiff legs as they spread wide across the deck to keep her stable.

“This specimen is the first one I’ve heard of that’s docile.”

“Oh,” Elvis replied. “Docile isn’t a word I’d use to describe Stella. You don’t want to see her when she gets angry.”

“And yet it wasn’t anger,” Bower added. “It was fear. She was afraid of us.”

“Fear?” Dr. Ambar said, somewhat lost in thought at the concept.

Hundreds of tiny creatures streamed down the alien’s fronds, touching briefly against Dr. Ambar’s fingers before retreating again.

“Magnificent,” he said without any hint of fear in his voice.

One of the cameramen standing with Ambar said, “I’m picking up oscillating shades in both infrared and ultraviolet.”

Dr. Ambar and Bower looked down at the cameraman’s screen as he held his camera low. The screen was divided in two, with false color representing the various spectra. The patterns differed from each other and from those they were seeing in the visible spectrum.

“Multitasking?” Ambar suggested.

Bower shrugged, she went to say something but Elvis cut her off, pointing at the horizon as he said, “They’re here.”

A floater was visible on the horizon, moving parallel to the USS William Lawrence. Even at a distance of roughly twenty miles, the bulbous head was apparent as were the trailing tentacles.

“I want footage from multiple angles,” Ambar said as Captain Lovell stepped back out onto the flight deck. “James, get up to the bridge. Stay on the wide-angle as long as you can. Stevens, head to the stern. Campelli, you stay with me.”

The cameramen split up.

Lovell walked over, saying, “We’re currently steaming due north at 18 knots with a slight headwind. We’ll hold this course until after the rendezvous is complete. The alien vessel is gaining at a steady rate so I don’t see any problem with this heading. Do we have any idea how the craft will land?”

Ambar and Bower looked at each other; neither had an answer.

“We’re 509 feet in length, displacing 6,800 tons light, with a total displacement of just over 9,000 tons, with our current loading we have roughly 1200 tons leeway. Do you have any idea how heavy that floater is or if it will touch down in its entirety?”

Bower bit her lip. The prospect of being accidentally sunk by the weight of the alien craft hadn’t crossed her mind. She just assumed everything would be OK.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine, captain,” Dr. Ambar replied. Bower knew that tone of voice, that was the ‘I have no bloody idea, but I’m in charge so it will be fine’ pseudo-authoritative tone she’d used so many times before as a doctor. It was a bluff, the bravado of a mind confident of tackling whatever may come, only in this circumstance it was sorely misplaced, and she knew it.

Captain Lovell didn’t seem to question Dr. Ambar’s rather vague judgment. In a bland, matter-of-fact tone, she said, “We have two other destroyers, the USS Dewey and the USS Sampson, roughly fifty nautical miles to our north-east, ready to render assistance if needed. My crew is on standby for evacuation. If the order to evacuate is given, you will be issued with a life-vest and life-rafts will be deployed.”

Ambar nodded, saying, “Understood. Thank you, captain.”

Lovell excused herself.

Stella had spotted the floater. Her core lit up with rolling patterns, glistening in the setting sun.

“Green light,” the creature said, and Dr. Ambar had a double-take, looking at both the alien and Bower, recognizing Bower’s voice. Bower smiled. Dr. Ambar seemed to want some kind of explanation but that was beyond her. Bower simply shrugged her shoulders.

“Yes,” Elvis replied. “Green light. You’re going home, Stella, home.”

“Home.”

The alien’s fronds no longer waved with the breeze, they stiffened momentarily, but not in a manner that seemed hostile. It was as though the creature was stretching and then relaxing. The core of the alien continued to display an astonishing variety of patterns, moving in a pattern reminiscent of a kaleidoscope.

Bower, Elvis and Dr. Ambar stood alone with the cameraman, watching Stella as she scurried around the deck of the warship in excitement.

Stella couldn’t sit still, Bower noted, smiling at the realization of just how human that seemed. Perhaps they were more alike than she thought. Could it be that intelligent life everywhere felt at least the same base emotions? Fear, excitement, joy, sorrow and satisfaction; these were primal parts of human intelligence. As much as she liked to think of herself as coldly logical, she knew that was a myth of her own choosing. There was no Mr. Spock. For the most part, those that considered themselves logical were blind to the emotions that drove them on. And here, she could see the same effervescence she knew she’d feel setting foot in England again, or on seeing her Mom and Dad again. It was the excitement of life.

Stella’s fronds slapped at the deck. She raced from one side to another, back and forth, zigging and zagging. For the first time, her fronds changed color, pulsing from red to blue, passing through every hue in the rainbow.

“She’s as excited as a puppy dog,” Elvis said.

“We have so much to learn,” Dr. Ambar added.

The cameraman moved to one side, getting a shot of them with Stella racing around and the floater in the background. Bower found herself wondering who was watching. She’d already seen dozens of faces at the various portholes and windows behind them, each vying for a clear view, with camera phones held up to capture this extraordinary moment.

Was this encounter being broadcast live? Bower felt like she should be doing something other than just standing there.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Dr. Ambar asked.

“Yes, she is,” Bower replied, not having thought of the alien in such terms before. Dr. Ambar awakened the sense of awe she felt when she first saw the alien spacecraft in orbit so high above the atmosphere.

They stood there watching Stella as the floater drifted to within a mile or so, slowly moving closer to the Lawrence. Bower marveled at the brilliant plumage displayed by the alien vessel. The extended bladder kept the floater buoyant within Earth’s atmosphere. The rich purples, yellows and reds stretching across the bladder were accentuated by the last rays of the sun slipping below the horizon.