What Can They Do? by Lance J. Mushung

What Can They Do? by Lance J. Mushung

I stared at the scrolls covering the green surface of my desk. The Premier had sent them to me along with an order to summarize each one.

A knock drew my eyes to the door and the messenger said, “Minister, the Premier wishes to see you at once.”

The messenger walked away and I followed her outside. The midday sun had baked the tan sand covering the path to Premier Hall and I cursed my earlier inattention to her footwear. At least a pleasant breeze ruffled my feathers while I limited the time my four feet spent touching the ground.

The cool gray stone floor inside Premier Hall soothed my soles. If only I could so easily cool the Premier on whatever additional task he had for me.

The Premier was on the cushion behind his low brown desk. He held a small scroll, but seemed to be staring off into space rather than reading it. I dropped onto one of the guest cushions in front of the desk.

The Premier put down the scroll. “We have a being not of our world in custody.”  He studied my face for a few moments before continuing. “I expected shock, not amused doubt.”

“I think you are tweaking my tail. I do not grasp the comedy though.”

“I have here a dispatch from the Marshal of the Third Army. Yesterday, his troopers found a metallic wedge-shaped object and a strange being near it. The troopers were terrified by what they considered a demon, but had the discipline to do nothing rash. They sent for the Marshal. The being speaks our language and the Marshal gave it the masculine name Wanderer. The Marshal has him under heavy guard where he was found.”

I became aware of the Premier staring at me.

He said, “Your stunned expression says you no longer think this is a comedy.”

I cleared my throat and said in a low voice, “How strange is he?”

“He has a face similar to ours. He also has two arms like us, but stands upright on two legs. A blue garment and brown footwear almost fully cover him. Instead of feathers, he has pale bare skin on his face and short brown fur on the top of his head.”

“How do we know he is not a demon?”

“Most of our people believe in demons, but you and I do not.”

“I may reconsider. If he’s not a demon, where does he come from?”

“He told the Marshal a world circling a distant star.”

“Incredible. Our thinkers have theorized about other life, but I was not sure I believed it. Is he alone here?”

“He is an explorer whose craft had an emergency. He has comrades who will come for him.”

“The sooner they take him away the better.”

“Not at all. I will not release him. His knowledge is invaluable.”

My stomach seemed to sink through the floor. “I hope that plan is comedy.”

“It is not. He said his comrades have no troopers, no military here. Just what can they do?”

“If they travel the heavens, how can we imagine what they can do. They may as well be demons. You have us dancing on a precipice.”

In the blink of an eye, a tall being appeared next to the desk. It differed from the description provided by the Marshal only in having brown skin and black fur.

I jumped off the cushion with both my hearts pounding so hard I feared the Premier could hear them. Even on my feet, the being towered over me.

It said, “”Good afternoon, Premier and Minister. Please call me Pilot.”

The Premier seemed much more composed than I and said, “You know who we are?”

“Yes, and I know that you do not intend to release my colleague.”

“How are you here in my office?”

“I am not physically with you. This is an image of myself created so that we may speak to each other.”

I passed a hand through the image and confirmed it was not substantial.

Pilot continued. “I must have my colleague returned. He might be injured by one of the many guards around him if I try to recover him. I therefore offer agricultural knowledge in exchange for him.”

The Premier said, “That is not enough.”

“Although my ship is an exploration vessel, I do have weapons. But there is no need to resort to force.” The image of Pilot changed to a duplicate of the Premier. “Premier, can you imagine what problems I could create for you if I appear before your people as one of your many gods, as a demon, or as you? I urge you to think on my offer. I will return later.”

Pilot vanished. The Premier stared for quite some time at the top of his desk. I did nothing but fidget.

The Premier finally broke the silence with, “I put you in charge of arranging all the details in accepting Pilot’s offer.”

I had another task as I had expected, but it was not a task I would have ever expected.

—

Lance graduated from the Georgia Institute of Technology with an aerospace engineering degree. He worked for over 30 years with NASA contractors in Houston, Texas performing engineering work on the Space Shuttle and its payloads. Now retired, he writes science fiction.