Ardin’s breath quickened as the airlock door closed behind him. The air was normal. The air was normal. Don’t hold your breath. But don’t breathe too quickly. Normal breaths. Okay. Kneel down. Unlock the hatch.
Ardin lifted the hatch, revealing a circle of green below. The ladder was in place, the cleats on the end pressing into the soft ground. At least the ground looked normal. Green grass, a little brighter than on Home, but normal. Photosynthetic plants covered much of the land on this world, producing oxygen (a little richer than Home) and taking in carbon dioxide (much higher concentration than Home).
Ardin put his foot on the top rung of the ladder and started down. Heavy use of organic fuels on this world accounted for the high CO2 concentration. They were still in their nuclear fear stage, and not yet pushed into clean power because of how ridiculously abundant organic fuels were. They would probably—
Ouch!
Ardin felt a twinge shoot up his arm as he caught himself, but not before his left leg had slid between two rungs. Ack! We can afford variable-bubble transitory drive for the ship, but we can’t put a blasted power lift on it! At least the aliens gathering around wouldn’t mistake him for a deity. Fulosa 4 had been really embarrassing, especially when they had tried to get him to mate with their ruler’s offspring. This time they had chosen a small settlement. No major ruler, just a rural alien population.
After reaching the ground without further incident, Ardin smoothed his uniform coat and took a deep breath. The air was pleasant, but dry. At the edge of the quardrangle where they had landed stood an alien in a dark suit, flanked by two others whose light coats bore gold insignia. Their right hands twitched near their hips. Okay, not so bad. Those were certainly weapons. They were nervous, but trying not to look threatening.
Ardin looked around. Two buildings nearby had flat roofs, but no spectators. Each roof had one alien on it, pointing a long-barreled weapon at the quardangle. Not hostile, but guarded. Take it easy. Let’s appear harmless and we’ll all get through this first contact.
Ardin raised his arms at his sides and turned around slowly. Look, nervous aliens, no weapons here. Just a harmless visitor who wants to greet you. He lowered his arms, faced his palms forward, and walked toward the dark-suited greeter. Time to gauge the accuracy of the language lessons gleaned from their radio communications.
“Hey bitches,” he started. “This is Ardin from a planet we call Home. What’s your name?”
The alien’s eyes widened, and its mouth hung open. “You speak English?” it said.
“We got your language from your Twitter, from your Instagram. We got sick skills, am I right?”
The aliens nearby were making sounds of acknowledgement. They seemed less tense. Those were happy facial expressions, weren’t they? Ardin hoped so.
“So what’s your name, bitch? Call me Ardin. Are you the boss man in this fuckin’ place?”
The aliens were responding more loudly now. Definitely not hostile. Even the guards weren’t hovering over their weapons anymore. The language lessons seemed to be accurate this time.
“I’m Larry Tomlinson, but you can call me Larry. I’m the mayor. This town is called Moosomin.”
Larry held his right hand out in front of him. The hand grip greeting. They had practiced this. Ardin extended his left hand and gently grabbed Larry’s hand. Ack! This wasn’t right. It was supposed to be the other hand! Ardin took his left hand back, then extended his right.
Larry grabbed Ardin’s right hand awkwardly with his left hand. Apparently Larry thought this was a normal alien hand greeting. Larry’s facial expression was very strong now, definitely what they called a smile. Larry leaned in as he grasped Ardin’s hand. This was the alien signal for…
Ardin lay in the ship’s infirmary, listening to his captain rant about the worst diplomatic failure in his career as the medic treated his projectile wounds. That planet was on the black list now. The aliens definitely would not welcome them back after turning Moosomin into a smoking crater.
Apparently that subtle lean was not the alien signal for the arms-grip mouth-contact greeting.
Afterword
This was another single-session story. First contact between humans and aliens is usually portrayed as either a grand formal affair or a violent invasion. I decided to bring the aliens down to earth a little more than usual.
Copyright 2019 by Violet Beckingham, all rights reserved
I Am Violet 