Alien Perceptions

                                                  ALIEN PERCEPTIONS

          The dials on the instrument panel were glowing a ghostly green, giving the cabin a washed out, eerie appearance.  This natural luminescence produced only a feeble light, but it had not, at least, been extinguished when both the main and emergency power supplies were interrupted by the impact.

           The levers on the control console, opposite the instruments, were still set in their precrash positions:  power plant to "full power," computerized guidance system to "evasive maneuvers."  But the independent ship's status board read a more realistic "all stop."

          Mizz -- Captain Mizentawp -- lay in a heap with the rest of the debris on the forward bulkhead.  He was shaken up, dazed and disoriented, but he was essentially okay.  He patted himself all over to verify that he was still in one piece thinking it was amazing that he had not been killed or even seriously injured.

           He was impressed.  The ship had been especially designed to withstand a crash landing, but surely this one must have tested the very limits of technology.

         An intermittent hum of the main power cells, accompanied by spasmodic a sputtering and momentary flashing of the emergency lights indicated that the ship was already beginning to "self-recover."

         Mizz crawled up the nearly vertical surface of what had been the main deck toward the aft--now upper--emergency escape trunk.  His progress was slow since his every movement was met with a sharp twinge of pain.

         Maybe he wasn't totally all right after all.

         Shot down.  He couldn't believe it.  By what?  What kind of weapon could be invulnerable to his neutralizer array?  Whatever it was, it smacked his ship right out of the sky like some flying insect.

         The emergency lighting came on and stayed on.  The rest of the equipment fed from the emergency system also sprang to life and automatically proceeded into the "autostart" mode.  The deathly silence that had been hanging over the cabin like a shroud began to give way to the comfortable familiarity of background noise.          

         Still, the captain was going to have to go outside to check for damage and to make repairs if necessary.  He was a little worried about that.  Until he found out what had grounded him he figured he had better be very careful.

         Mizz paused at the munitions cabinet long enough to pick out a weapon.  He scooped up an older model, directional nuclear device that was little more than a black box that he could point and click.  Boom!  It felt clumsy, heavier than he remembered, but it would likely be better than a nerve-impulse scrambler if he ran into trouble.

         Overkill?  Perhaps.  But, he had already encountered a weapon that wasn't affected by his neutralizers and this mission was too important for him to take chances.

         The main power came on, dissolving the rest of the shadows, returning his tiny spaceship world back to some degree of normalcy.

         According to the preliminary environmental readings he had taken just before the crash, this planet's atmosphere might be toxic.  What a surprise; everything about the place seemed to be hostile.  He snatched a respirator out of its storage bin and brought it with him to the escape trunk.

         Mizz gingerly drew himself up into a ball and pulled himself through the emergency hatch opening just as audible alarms from each of the consoles sounded, indicating the engine had begun to step through its "startup" sequence. 

         He was running out of time.

         When he slammed the heavy hatch behind him, the back of the polished metal door reflected his image.  He was startled by the stranger he saw before him. 

         Droplets of moisture were beading up on his dark colored skin, imparting to it an unnatural, sickly sheen.  He reached up and touched his wrinkled skin, watching intently as his reflection did the same.  How deep the crevices had become during the course of his trip.  And his thick, black, curly hair had thinned and was now almost completely white. 

         He unwrapped the respirator.  Carefully, he inserted the tube ends of the breathing apparatus directly into his windpipe, then pushed the metal canister up and over the top of his head, out of the way.

         Suddenly, he felt afraid and homesick.  The dire predicament he was in and the fact that he was so far from charted space made him realize how vulnerable he actually was. 

         And they all depended upon his success.

           He tugged sharply against the emergency release lever, blowing the hatch open, exposing himself to ... what?

         Mizz peeked timidly over the lip of the hatch.  He waited, scarcely moving, as he surveyed the surrounding area.  Then, as stealthily as he could while dragging his repair-probe and weapon behind him, he eased up onto the outer skin of the ship.

         Thick vegetation, of the most unusual textures and colors, covered the uneven hillsides like a plush carpet.  Everything seemed so cool and serene here.  But the atmosphere was oppressively humid and, as he had suspected, laden with toxic vapors.  A primeval mist skirted the lower elevations providing a spectacle that was at the same time beautiful and forbidding.

           Mizz could see no evidence of damage to the ship's hull and was thankful for that.  Of course he would have to perform a top to bottom inspection, but he was already quite sure the ship was all right.

         Then he noticed something odd.  It was an odor.  A powerful, nauseating stench was more like it.  He could smell it even though he was wearing his respirator.  It comprised all the putrid, vile odors he could imagine, like a gentle breeze had wafted across something long dead, decomposing. 

         He turned around and was jarred by what he saw.  The alien stood only a few feet from him, silent, motionless.  The creature's skin was mottled in the various shades of the colors in the environment; to blend in its surroundings, apparently. 

         Pretty effective camouflage, Mizz conceded.  He must have looked right at it and missed it.

         The creature stood stock-still for what seemed like an eternity and was pointing an inanimate object, undoubtedly a weapon of some kind, in Mizz's direction.  Mizz fondled his own weapon nervously, but he kept it behind him, out of sight.  He didn't want to unduly agitate the other.  Besides, the weapon he had brought from the ship was hardly appropriate for this kind of situation--close up, one-on-one.

         Nuclear explosions, even controlled ones, were so messy.

         Physiologically, Mizz had trouble reconciling the characteristics of the creature with what he knew about other life-forms.  The creature was at least twice as tall as Mizz, but it probably didn't weigh half as much; it was little more than a stick with projections, pseudopods, sticking out at various angles.  Where were its vital organs?  Surely there wasn't room for them in any of the standard places.  And it had ugly folds of loose skin dangling from all over its sparse frame.  It was molting, apparently, or recalling his original impression--decomposing. 

         It looked a lot like it smelled.

         All the while, the alien continued to stare at Mizz as if it was pondering what its next move might be.  At least that's how Mizz interpreted its actions.  The captain was well aware of the fallacy of assigning anthropomorphic characteristics to other life-forms, but sometimes the tendency was irresistible.

         A stiff breeze began to kick up, buffeting the vegetation and stirring up swirls of dust and organic debris.  The chafing noises of branches rubbing together combined grotesquely with the sound of flapping alien skin.

         It was time, Mizz decided, to break the stalemate.  If he didn't do something soon, the alien was bound to initiate some action on its own and Mizz definitely wanted to maintain some semblance of control over the situation. 

         Maybe he should try to communicate with it.  Surely the creature couldn't comprehend sophisticated language, but hearing the words might show it that he wasn't a threat, at least.  Perhaps he could get it to understand the meaning behind his words, if not the actual words themselves.          

         In his most diplomatic voice, he said, "I am on a peaceful mission in search of an uninhabited world to colonize.  Landing here was not planned.  Something from your world--some flying thing--attacked me, shot down my ship."          

         But, the creature reacted as if jolted by lightning, something Mizz had not expected.  It stepped back, flailing its pseudopods around, losing its balance, nearly dropping its weapon. 

         Then loud, alien sounds emanated from behind the creature and to Mizz's horror several more aliens swarmed in from the surrounding flora.  They all appeared to be carrying weapons, too.

         Then, the original creature began issuing what must have been orders to the others.  They encircled Mizz who warily backed to the center of the hull as the group of aliens came right up to the side of his ship.  The repair-probe fell to the hull with a clatter and skidded off onto the ground with a thud.

         This was serious, he thought.  He didn't understand.  After all, it was he who had been attacked while taking geological readings of the planet's surface.  He had been minding his own business; he hadn't even intended to land after the preliminary readings turned out to be so unfavorable.

         And he definitely wouldn't have landed on an inhabited planet by choice.

         Things were clearly getting out of hand.  Should he try to make a run for it?  No, he decided, they were obviously belligerent and if he ducked back into the hatch he was sure they would interpret it as a hostile action and probably attack.

         Maybe if he approached the one that seemed to be in charge, if they touched, he might be able to make it understand.  His intuition told him that even though these creatures were not highly developed, they did have some intelligence.  Might they even possess some degree of compassion?

         It was worth the chance.

         Mizz shifted and this set into motion a ripple of reaction among the aliens.  The slight breeze began to pick up.  The larger forms of vegetation began to rock drunkenly in the wind.  The tension was so thick that Mizz was beginning to feel faint. Still, he was more determined than ever.

         But, if he were wrong?  They were all counting on him.

           Though the very thought of it made him physically ill, he hesitatingly, as nonthreateningly as possible, slid across the hull of the ship towards the creature.

           He had never been more afraid in all his life, not even when they first chose him to bear the burden of them.
                                                 *          *          *
         Donald Dunlap, Lieutenant Donald Dunlap, of the Oregon National Guard, swung his assault rifle around toward the strange organic-looking blob that he had been watching so intently since it had oozed--there was no better word to describe it--out of the spacecraft that was half buried and smoldering in the damp forest floor.

         It was a mystery what the fighter jet had shot down and it was up to him and his patrol to investigate.

         Before the lieutenant was a creature as hideous as any he had ever seen in the movies.

         It was all wrinkled and slimy and had several long, serpentine projections protruding from its roundish, purple and green body.  It was covered all over with sparse, matted, white fur except for one spot near its top where tubes from a curious metal canister device was sticking out of one of its crevices.

         The creature had a mucoidal sheen that reminded him of ... the lieutenant reflexively wiped his nose with the back of his camouflaged sleeve while still keeping his rifle aimed at his target.  And that smell!  It was worse than the time his father poisoned all the rats in the basement of their house.  His stomach was becoming queasy just thinking about it.

         Donald continued to monitor the blob closely, looking for any sign that might telegraph its intentions.  He also noticed, somewhat uncomfortably, that it continued to watch him, looking for God knows what.  Neither he nor it moved for the longest time. 

         Then the weirdest clicking racket started up from the direction of the blob.  It reminded the lieutenant a little of the Morse code he had struggled to learn as a boy scout only this was louder, far more penetrating.  The noise seemed to seep deeply into his skull where it reverberated, like his head was hollow.

         Reacting to what he thought might be an attack, he took a step backward looking for cover, but stumbled in his haste, nearly dropping his rifle.  He recovered quickly enough, though, when he wasn't immediately incinerated, which was actually a big surprise.  Hands shaking, managed to take aim again at where he figured the alien's black heart should be, right in its gooey center.

         The rest of the patrol yelled warnings at the lieutenant and closed in, weapons at the ready, waiting for commands from their leader.

         "Careful," the lieutenant barked shakily to the other Guard members.  "This thing may be dangerous.  It may have a 'death ray' or something pointing at us right now."  Then in a more professional tone, "Surround it."

         The space gob reacted by gliding toward the high point of the upturned, football shaped ship out of reach.

         The wind was gusting harder now.  A storm was brewing. There was the smell of rain.  Even in the cool air, sweat that had been forming in drops along Donald's brow was now beginning to cascade down his nose and cheeks in rivulets.

         Then the creature surprised him.  The lieutenant's eyes popped open wide when the alien suddenly began to slide toward him as if on greased runners.  And that damned clicking noise started up again.

         Though his revulsion was great, he continued to stand his ground, but his finger pulled ever more tightly on the trigger, twitching with anticipation.  The cold wind felt clammy on his neck.

         He felt panic begin to well up inside him.  Donald fought the urge to start blasting away, trying to keep his fear under control.  He had never been so afraid, not even in combat.

         The men in uniform stood on either side of him like military statues in a park, maintaining an unflinching aim.

         Less than a foot away now, the blob slowly reached a slimy tentacle toward the speechless marine.

           And Donald's skin began to crawl uncontrollably.
                                                 *          *          *
         Mizz continued his hastily prepared speech even as he moved closer to the lead alien.  He was an ambassador from afar on perhaps the most important mission of his life.  "I am an explorer, but also much, much more.  My world is gone now ... destroyed by...."

         Mizz glanced around at the numerous weapons that were trained on him.  "I'm afraid it won't be necessary for me to explain that to you, will it?"

         And then he was there, right next to the uneasy creature.

         The alien moaned.  The other aliens stiffened even more, but still they didn't attack.  Mizz was becoming cautiously optimistic that he might be able to pull this off, after all.

         "You must not harm me.  It is not only for myself that I beg you to leave me be.  You see, I am the future of my species."

         "We -- my kind -- were desperate.  Faced with the possibility of extinction, we devised a remarkably ingenious plan to allow us to flee to a new world.  Instead of many, who would stand no chance of escape, there would be only one, who could slip unnoticed into the black cloak of space, leaving behind a most painful past."

         "I am Captain Mizentawp, a single body, though hardly an individual, at least not anymore.  I am the 'mother' of a civilization, so to speak.  Not one that exists in embryonic form, but as a thousand, thousand living beings."

         "You see, I carry within my body not just the 'seed' of my kind, but the beings themselves.  I have within me what is left of the entire population--in here!"  He pressed a tentacle to his middle.

         "Feel them for yourself."  He reached out to grasp the alien's pseudopod in order to draw the limb toward him, to let it touch the sacred repository, so it could understand.

             "You will see that they are indeed alive."

         Surprisingly, the pseudopod acquiesced and felt his midriff.

         The other creatures were animated, and noisy, but the leader seemed to be deep in thought.  Was he getting through to it?

         There he went again, anthropomorphizing.  Could an alien really comprehend what he was trying to tell it? 

         It was hard to tell.

         "We are seeking a place, somewhere in the universe, that we can call home.  We ask nothing from you except that you leave us alone so we can embark once again on our journey."

         Mizz could hear the almost imperceptible whine and feel the vibration under his body as the main engine jumped to life.

         The ship was ready.

         If only he could make the alien understand that he only wanted to fly his spacecraft out of there, now.  That he meant them no harm.

         But, after all they had been through, he could not allow his people to die without a fight.  He would attack if provoked.  Perhaps the ship could outrun the blast.
                                                 *          *          *
         Donald looked up at the sky.  Dark, gray clouds crowded in overhead prematurely turning daylight into dusk.  The trees were bending against the storm-force winds, their limbs whipping about frantically.

           A lightning flash backlit the creature. 

         It was translucent, of course.  No bone structure.  No recognizable internal organs.  A small box, clutched in the tentacles, was raising up behind it.

         "Oh, man," the lieutenant croaked.  "What should I do?"

         "The slightest movement, sir.  If it threatens you in any way, the phlem-ball will be history."  The drawl from Sergeant Mills sounded very close, very determined.

         The lieutenant maintained what could only be called eye contact with the blob.  He was beginning to waver, reconsidering his options.

         This creature –- this being –- was obviously trying to communicate with him.  Although he couldn’t understand what it was trying to say, he could tell by its body language that it was not being overtly hostile.  More like a defensive stance.

         It was as if it were pleading with him, that god-awful clicking noise being some sort of language.

         “We have an obviously intelligent being here,” he shouted over his shoulder at the other members of his patrol.  “I think it might be dangerous, but I don’t think it wants to attack.”
   
          There was something about this alien being that seemed important.  Too important to destroy, even if it could be destroyed with the weapons they had on hand.

          The alien looked at Donald intensely, almost pleadingly.  Although he knew he shouldn’t assign anthropomorphic characteristics onto a being so unhumanlike, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for it.  Here it was surrounded by a hostile force on a strange planet.  Donald asked himself what he would do in such a situation.

          He would try to reason with the combatants, defuse the situation and get the hell out, if he could.  He would not want to unnecessarily tangle with an unknown force for uncertain gain.

          Sure, it made sense to Donald that the pathetic little creature only wanted to be left alone, to go home, wherever that home might be.

          He had made first contact with an alien species and that contact did not have to end with its destruction.  Or theirs; there was no way to know how formidable such a foe might be.

         It was then that he made a command decision that he knew he would regret later, when his superiors found out.  It would probably cost him his command, maybe even his freedom. 
         
          "Stand down," he ordered.

         His men were incredulous, but they followed his order.

          The alien, as if it understood the command, immediately slithered down a hole in the middle of the ship.  Within seconds, the ship lifted off noiselessly, the engineering marvel of an obviously advanced race of beings.  It angled up and over the far trees and disappeared into the dark clouds.
         
          Lieutenant Donald Dunlap knew he had just done something phenomenally important.  What, he wasn't exactly sure.  But, he felt damn good about it.