Warren Fahy - Fragment

A shape appeared in one of the dark holes in the fuselage above Nell. She gasped. Another of Hender’s kind peered in warily at the astonished humans. Glowing patterns of blue and green fluctuated on its white-furred body and limbs in the shadow before it emerged into the green-lit chamber.

Thatcher sucked in a breath and took an involuntary step backwards.

Behind the first, another appeared, and then another and another, each with a unique pattern and palette of colors. In their hands and on their backs they carried bundles, pouches, and packs containing an odd assortment of objects-customized tools, toys or weapons made of native materials, and man-made materials collected from the beach and put to original uses.

The four newcomers hopped gracefully down on their springing legs and approached the humans, creeping on four or even all six limbs, their heads downcast, as if approaching deities.

Hender went to greet them. He gave Andy the same hand signals they had exchanged earlier, and then the others of his kind followed him to the cockpit at the far end of the fuselage.

The beings huddled for a whispered, musical conference.

It was dark now in the nose of the plane. Only a starlit sky silhouetted the alien creatures against the B-29’s cockpit jutting over the ocean. From a distance the new arrivals seemed faintly sinister as they darted glowing eyes back at the humans.

Hender shook some glass jars full of jungle bugs to light up the cockpit. Following Hender’s example, all gave friendly waves at the humans, then went back to their discussion.

Nell’s heart pounded. To be in the presence of Earthlings who may have preceded human beings by millions of years made her feel oddly alien herself. It was an extraordinary sensation. “An intelligent species,” she whispered.

“It sounds like each one is speaking a different language,” Geoffrey whispered.

She nodded. “Maybe that’s why Hender’s so good at languages.”

“They’re a little smarter than you thought, eh, Thatcher?” Andy taunted.

Thatcher showed no expression. “Oh, yes.”

“Why would they have different languages?”

“Maybe they’re very, very old,” Nell suggested.

“You’ll have to explain that to me,” Geoffrey said.

“Well, maybe each of them is the last of a separate cultural or ethnic group. Their colorings are fairly distinctive.”

“Maybe,” Geoffrey mused. “But they would have to be incredibly old, Nell, to have that much genetic and cultural variation.”

“Like I said, they are incredibly old,” Andy insisted.

Geoffrey considered his own principle of life span as he watched the alien beings silhouetted against the moonlit window of the seventy-year-old aircraft. Suddenly Fire-Breathing Chats seemed remarkably tame compared to this. “It’s possible they don’t really have life spans,” he blurted even as the thought struck him.

“Huh?” Nell asked. “You’ll have to explain that to me.”

“I will.” He nodded.

“The hendros have tunnels that are probably fossilized root structures connecting these giant trees all around the island’s rim,” Andy put in.

“How many trees are there?” Geoffrey asked.

“Six or seven, I think, and they all live alone in separate trees. That multi-colored guy is a painter. The black and blue-striped one seems to invent traps and weapons and other things. The orange one’s a musician. I think the green-and-blue one is a doctor.”

Nell noticed the combinations of colors effervescing on their fur as Andy pointed each of them out. “How do you know what they do, Andy?”

“I went to a dinner party with them at the doctor’s tree. After dinner they traded some stuff. Hender traded some things he collected on the beach.”

“How cool is that?” Zero said.

“I think the hendros have made up their minds,” Thatcher observed sourly.

The discussion seemed to have been settled and the creatures were now coming back to the humans. Hender approached ahead of the others and spread two arms out. “Henders eat humans now,” he said.

Thatcher stiffened.

Hender held up one finger. “Joke,” Hender said.

“I taught him that word.” Andy laughed. “Don’t panic, Thatcher!”

“Joke, Thatcher.” Hender nodded in agreement.

“He’s got a future on The Tonight Show,” Geoffrey said. The other hendros watched the humans laughing and looked at each other in amazement.

Alien as they appeared, Hender’s kindred were each strangely beautiful, with graceful limbs that expressed different styles in motion. Able to locomote with two, four, or six limbs, either swinging from the ceiling or walking on the floor, each of the beings moved in ways disconcertingly different from the others. It was as if five antelope had discovered five completely different ways of walking using the standard four legs. Their fur varied widely, too-not so much like different breeds of cat, more like people wearing different clothes. Watching them, one could only conclude that each had a unique style, and, in this respect, were essentially human. Only humans-juggling, walking, crawling, swimming, skydiving humans-displayed so much individual choice simply through movement.

“See others.” Hender’s woodwind-like voice had a melodious tone. “Thank you thank you thank you. Emergency exit. Hazar-do-us!”

“Yes, Hender. Hazardous!” Geoffrey nodded. He gestured to himself, then pointed at the door. “When others come, emergency exit. OK? Yes?”

Hender smiled, revealing the three wide teeth that wrapped around his upper and lower jaws. He nodded vigorously. “Yes, hazardous! Emergency exit! Thank you, OK, Geoffrey!”

Hender translated for the four other hendropods, whose eyes flicked back and forth between him and the humans.

Under her breath, Nell told Geoffrey, “You speak pretty good Hender.”

“Hender uses only imperative verbs and simple nouns-probably from associating the words with pictures on directions and warning labels. They’re designed so no one has to be able to read to get the point, but often have a variety of verbal translations.”

“I’ll be damned,” Zero muttered. “And I always hated those things.”

Nell smiled, delighted. “Who would have thought warning labels would be the Rosetta Stone?”

Thatcher had been staring off into space, but he abruptly broke his silence. “I still don’t see how they could evolve here.”

“That’s easy,” Andy piped up. “They disappear.”

Nell looked at Andy, puzzled.

“I think their fur can sense light and somehow reflect it on the opposite side of their bodies. Hey, Hender. Disappear! Don’t worry-he likes doing it. He knows it freaks me out!”

Hender nodded at Andy and smiled as his thick fur fluffed out.

Although they were looking right at him, Hender…vanished. The background seemed to emanate through him, leaving only his grin and two eyes visible.

“Dear God,” Thatcher murmured.

“It’s the freakin’ Cheshire Cat, man!”

All of the hendropods followed suit, blending into the background except for their colorful eyes and smiling teeth.

“Holy shit.” Zero videoed as he laughed.

“That must be how their ancestors managed to slow down long enough to think in this environment,” Nell said, thoughtfully.

“And make tools,” Geoffrey added.

“They can step outside this crazy food chain.”

Geoffrey’s eyes lit up as a piece fell into place. “That’s it! Death by predation is so common here that none of these species needed a biological clock to enforce a life span. When these guys developed invisibility…” He turned toward Nell, excited. “They may have become virtually immortal. Which allowed them to preserve the integrity of their gene pool by minimizing procreation! Intelligent creatures could not reproduce very frequently on such a small island,” he murmured. “In a group this small, the risk of compromising the gene pool would be too great. So the longer each generation lasts the less opportunity for genetic corruption. It’s a scenario that I never imagined before!”