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Tezkee stopped and looked up— something was watching him. He was halfway across one of the vine-woven bridges that tied the trees of his village together when he felt the fur across his shoulders and back prickle with awareness.

His friend Khaztik had been walking the vineway right behind him and almost ran into his backside. He groused, “Chkchk, Tez! Why did you stop?"

Tezkee leaned off to the left side, towards the sunlit center of the village circle trying to get a better view of what was spying on him. The middle of the circle of vines and bowers was open space, an empty pore in the skin of the forest where one of the colossal trees had died and fallen. It was a very long way down to the dark forest floor, as both of them knew. As all the Ketchvash knew. Tezkee let go of the cable with both of his hands to shade his eyes as he peered upwards. He clung to the cable with only his footclaws, knees bent to absorb the gentle sway.

Khaztik didn't like that. Even though Tez was the surest climber he knew, no one should tempt Vash like that. And no one should stop halfway across a vineway in any case— it was rude to block others, even though there was no one behind them.

Lacking an explanation, Khaztik had to follow Tezkee's gaze. Then he, too, saw it.

Something floated above the circle. It hovered in place like one of the swarming, delicious insects that traveled through their territory following a storm. It moved from place to place as if it had no respect for the ground's hungry pull. It had no wings like the scaled criers that nested in squawking colonies at the very top of the green canopy, above their own bowers. It was far too large to be an insect, and reminded him more of a huge floating eyeball. Its body was round and white, surrounded by what looked like eight smaller rings. A dark spot on the center body resembled a small pupil. It was looking right at them. Khaztik perked his ears tall, turning the cupped and tufted membranes in the direction of the thing, but the only noise he could hear was a soft whistling, like wind through leaves, though the air was still today.

“What is it?" he asked Tezkee.

“Vash's eye." said his friend with confidence.

“You've seen it before?"

Tezkee wouldn't take his eyes off it. “My brother said the warders killed it yesterday."

“Did you see it?"

“No. He said it fell into the undershadow."

“Keep going," urged Khaztik. “Get to the next platform. We should tell the warders it came back!"

The object seemed to react to being noticed. It changed direction and sped over them, out of the open village circle. The foliage soon blocked their view.

“It's getting away!" chirped Tezkee, who dropped his hands back to the vineway and raced towards the platform, his twin tails tracing arcs behind him.

“What?" asked Khaztik, following as fast as he could. By the time he reached the platform, Tezkee was already climbing the tree at its center, scaling the vines and rough bark without looking back down. “Wait!" Khaztik called from below. “You can't just go after it yourself! We should shout the alarm call."

“No! It will hear and escape. Come with me. We can surprise it."

Khaztik ground his teeth and dithered for a few moments, but then began to climb. He could see no sign of his friend's tails, but kept climbing as the tree thinned and split into a maze of branches no larger than a vineway. He hissed for Tezkee, and felt some relief when he warbled a low reply.

Khaztik picked his way carefully to the branches where Tezkee was perched. When he got there, his friend pointed through a break in the broadleaf canopy. The thing was hovering there just above the top leaves. The black spot appeared to be looking back towards the village circle and not at them.

“It was watching us," whispered Khaztik.

“It is Vash's eye."

“The warders will get it, Tez. We're not supposed to be all the way up here."

“I will be a warder soon. I can get it," said Tezkee, reaching for the spear strapped to his back. He had only earned it fifteen days ago, during the age ritual. He had been itching for a worthy target to prove himself.

Khaztik clicked his teeth. “It feels wrong, Tez. Bad. Don't hand Vash the knife He would cut you with," he quoted the elders' saying.

“I am not afraid of Vash," growled Tezkee before hoisting himself up so that his head was just below one of the great leaves. His grey and white fur was tinted green by the sunlight passing through the leaf. He untied his spear and the coil of twine rope attached to the end, then fitted the loop at the end of the rope over his arm. He hefted his spear, finding the balance point, then tracked the hovering thing. Khaztik watched his friend, knowing he should stop him before he did something foolish but at the same time wanting to see him hit the eye. He almost reached for his own spear.

Tezkee launched the weapon with a sudden heave and the uncoiling rope followed. Khaztik craned his neck trying to see through the gaps in the leaves. A few moments later there was an odd sound, almost like the polished seashells the matrons had dangling from strings outside the youngling bower. The sharp bone-tipped spear had found its target and Tezkee let out a triumphant chirp. He began pulling the rope in with both hands. The spear crashed through the canopy, but nothing was stuck to the tip. Khaztik climbed up to peek out of the canopy and saw that the thing was wobbling in the air. Tezkee had wounded it, it seemed. It was flying in a tight circle and drifting towards them at the same time.

Tezkee gathered the rope in, and retrieved his spear as fast as he could, trying to keep track of the eye's location at the same time. Once he had his spear in hand he watched, waited, then jabbed at the object as it veered close. Khaztik ducked back down and out of the way. The strange flying thing was larger than he had thought— about half as big as himself. Tezkee jabbed again and got his spear through one of the small rings and lodged the barb point there. That seemed to send the thing into a sudden frenzy and it jerked away, carrying Tezkee's spear with it.

It sped back towards the village center and Khaztik said, “Tez! Let go of the line!" but Tez held it in both hands and braced himself against the branch.

Khaz saw that Tez wasn't going to be persuaded to be reasonable. He pulled his bone-blade knife from the scabbard on his back, meaning to cut the line, but everything happened too fast. The rope went taut and Tezkee leaned back to reel the thing back in. For just a moment he held his own but then his footclaws tore the bark from his branch and he fell, crashing into another nearby branch. Now clinging to the rope he was dragged through the canopy and bounced against several branches and through leaves and crier nests before swinging out into the open space of the circle.

Dozens of the tribe were watching as he swung from the strange object. Only then did the fear break through. Now he felt the hollow certainty that Vash had lured him in, and he had been easy prey.

Khaztik didn't make it back down to the platform before his friend and the eye had plummeted down into the undershadow.

***

“God damn it!" spat Lin, stripping the headset off and blinking as his eyes readjusted to the dim light inside the landing craft's flight deck. The other three members of the landing team were still watching the feed from the drone on the big monitor screen as it spun end-over-end, falling. The receding sky flashed like a strobe until it stopped with a sudden burst of static and went dark.

“Is it dead?" asked Lieutenant Powers, leaning forward to look over the shoulder of engineer Anders, who was studying the telemetry on her terminal station.

Before Anders could answer, Lin asked, “What, the drone or the fucking squirrel?" while he rubbed the bridge of his nose where the VR set had left a red mark.

Dr. Chauhan frowned and admonished in her precise Indian accent, “They are not squirrels. It is dangerous to anthropomorphize as I must remind you." She knew she was wasting her breath, though.

Anders addressed Powers' original question, “No active signals from Drone 2. No responses to pings. But it may be going through an emergency power cycle. We should know in just under two minutes."

“Lin's question does raise a serious issue, though," said Captain Hernandez via the radio link to the SRS Hermes, high above in synchronous orbit. “We may well have just caused the death of one of the natives. Not an auspicious beginning to this mission."

“Maybe they won't make the connection," offered Lin.

Dr. Chauhan said, “No. They are intelligent. They make tools, build homes and bridges between the trees. They possess language. All these rely on logic and abstract reasoning. When we make full contact, they will conclude that we sent the drones."

“And without knowing why we sent them, it seems most logical to think that we're hostile, right?" asked Captain Hernandez.

“That seems quite possible," agreed Chauhan. “Though it is again risky to speculate."

“What can we do to gain their trust in that case?"

“We must be able to speak to them. To communicate our peaceful intent."

Powers snorted. “Hi! Nice planet. Can we move in? They'd have to be idiots to take that as peaceful."

Chauhan bristled. “If they knew our imperialist history, perhaps! But we are here to ensure we do not repeat those mistakes. They are creatures of intelligence, Powers! Of all the planets humanity has visited and attempted to tame, this beautiful forested world is the only one we have found with other minds."

“It's also the only one that could support large numbers of colonists on the surface, without domes or generations of terraforming. We're moving in, whether the squirrels like it or not, doctor."

Chauhan wanted to counter Lieutenant Powers' abrasive pragmatism, but she bit her tongue.

Anders offered, “ALICE needs more language samples. Much more. She's begun decryption but she needs context to form a full language profile."

“And that means more spy drones," said Powers. “Well, we have two more down here with us. Maybe someone else should fly them, though, eh?"

Lin scowled, “You think it's my fault they keep attacking them, sir? I have to get close enough to get audio and video. They can hear the drones coming. You can give it a try, lieutenant, we'll see how well you do." Lin unstrapped himself from his seat and got out of it too fast. In his frustration he had forgotten that Kepler-9f had only 70% of earth gravity and ended up banging his head on the low ceiling of the cabin. He rubbed his head and retreated into the empty sleeping cabin.

Powers waited until Lin was off the flight deck before proposing, “Maybe we should just go out and announce ourselves. Show them what they're dealing with. Hiding in the ship and sneaking around with drones is getting on everyone's nerves, it seems."

Captain Hernandez said, “No. We do this by the book."

“The people who wrote 'the book' had no clue what we would find here," groused Powers.

“They knew it was possible, otherwise we wouldn't have it. Doctor Chauhan is here because of this possibility. She is our xenosociology expert, Lieutenant. Defer to her analysis, clear?"

“Yes, Captain," said Powers, barely hiding his disdain.

Dr. Chauhan knew the lieutenant had requested another space marine for the landing team instead of her. Powers had argued that no one could be an actual authority in something that no one had actually encountered before. And further that a show of force would be more valuable than whatever cultural exchange Chauhan had in mind, at least at first.

Anders, oblivious to the tension, announced, “Drone 2 is back online!" All heads turned back to the central monitor. Even Lin came back out of the sleeping cabin. The picture was still just black, but there was audio now. The crunching of dead leaves and a low keening sound could be heard.

“Switch to infrared," suggested Lin.

Anders did so and the picture on the monitor changed to a monochrome. They could see indistinct cool-temperature shapes until suddenly a four-finger hand with long curved claws waved into view. The drone was jostled, turned over. Then the screeching began.

The natives were not squirrels, as Dr. Chauhan kept reminding them, but they sounded a lot like them. Their language seemed to be dominated by high-pitched and grating chattering with a mix of clicks and piercing squeaks.

“He sounds pretty pissed," said Powers, and Chauhan didn't bother to warn against making assumptions this time, as it appeared he was correct. The Keplerian had grabbed the drone by one of the impeller rings and was staring straight at the camera lens while apparently unloading every insult known to his furry kind.

“Well, at least ALICE will know how to curse in their language," smirked Lin.

Even if it was not under normal light conditions, this was their first close-up look at one of them and they all stared at the screen as it continued its animated tirade.

“You see the teeth? Not like one of our rodentia at all," said Anders. “Omnivorous, I guess. Like our ape ancestors. Wide-set eyes, but still binocular focus. Oh, see that? It can swivel its ears independently. Neat! You know, I almost don't believe this is real. Once you get past the little details like the double tails, it's amazing how similar they are to terrestrial life. To us, even. Ears, eyes, nose, mouth, arms, legs… I honestly never expected to find more than moss when I saw the long-range scan reports. What are the odds?"

“Astronomical," smiled Chauhan. “An argument that those in favor of divine intervention will make."

Anders said, “I'm not ready to throw up my hands and say 'God did it' yet. The panspermia hypothesis is still…"

Powers cut in, “Wait, wait, doctor, I didn't know you were a woman of faith! Do you think God created this world, like He created ours?"

“I do not know what to think, but I prefer to keep my options open," answered Chauhan. She wasn't about to get into a theological debate with a man whose definition of faith was extremely narrow. Her own childhood had featured the weak remnants of her family's Hindu religion, a skeleton of tradition on which hung very little actual belief in literal gods. Her doctorates in anthropology and theology had broadened her sense of the divine, but she had never experienced the certainty of God that men like Powers did.

“However you want to believe this happened and against what odds," sighed Captain Hernandez on the radio, “This planet has an indigenous population, and we need to learn as much as we can about them before the colonization can begin. They may be a bigger threat than you estimate, Lieutenant. Or they may know something vital about this world that we would otherwise miss. Our mission is to observe and make peaceful contact. History is waiting for us back at home. Let's not be remembered as the ones who started a war with the first intelligent alien species we've ever met, all right?"

“Aye," came the chorus of agreement, though Powers muttered, “Won't be much of a war."

As if the alien had heard them, its angry chattering stopped. It was no longer glaring at the camera. Instead it was focused off to the side, its ears perked to face something else and its teeth bared. It hissed and then the viewpoint was bouncing chaos as it dragged the drone along with it, running.

***

Tezkee still somehow thought he was in control of the situation even as he swung across open space, holding on to his spear's rope. He had spotted at least three open vineways he would be close enough to grab with his feet on the other side, then all he had to do was reel in his prize. A fine first kill for him and his new spear, witnessed by most of his tribe. He'd be made a warder on the spot! But about halfway into the arc that would carry him the rest of the way, the thing that he still thought of as Vash's eye tumbled from the air as if it had died. It fell straight down, and so did he.

Terror replaced confidence as he had nothing to hold and the sky began to recede, faster and faster. He twisted his body around, spreading his arms and legs and both his tails to try to slow his descent. He had to grab something— a vine, a branch, anything. His claws shredded leaves and small vines as he flew past until a large branch returned the favor and pain exploded in his arm. He screamed.

At first it was just from the pain, but as he tumbled he looked up at the ragged circle of sky and screamed even harder in rage at Vash. Vash, who had sent His eye to torment him. Tezkee spread his legs and his unbroken arm and thrust his chest out towards the sky and cursed Vash. Vash didn't answer, but then Tezkee crashed through the new foliage of the younger trees competing to fill the gap left by the fallen giant. He bounced off small, flexible branches and found himself heading for a tangle of fresh vines. He plummeted past it before he could even make a grab but his spear, still trailing him by the rope around his unbroken arm, got tangled in the mass. The sudden change in direction stole his breath and made his broken arm feel as if it had been shattered again twice as hard. Before he could scream once more, his spear snapped and he dropped again, this time into one of the massive sloping roots of the mature trees.

He had no more breath to scream with, and bounced off the moss-covered bark. He slid and crashed through the lowest level of greenery into the eternal shadow that blanketed the forest floor along with enough rotting leaves to cushion his final impact.

Dazed, he lay there just trying to breathe, but the sound of his quarry crashing through the same foliage he had just come through aroused his fury again. He rolled to his side and coughed, favoring his broken arm. Then he began to crawl in the direction of the sound. The eye was warm, and he could see its warmth against the cool leaves and roots and runners. He muttered and whined as he struggled through the decomposing filth, trying not to think about how he and the rest of the village let their waste drop freely from high above.

His new spear was broken, and he abandoned the rope with furious regret. When he reached the eye, he grabbed it by one of the unnaturally round rings that encircled it— it was far lighter than he had expected.

He stared into the small black pupil of God and cursed him. “Ha! I live, Vash, I LIVE! You and your flying eye could not kill me. I will return your torment ten times! The healers will mend my arm and I will destroy you! You are a shit-eating motherless pock-hided tail-less idiot and your end is near. Hear me! I will take your eye back up to my village and we will tear it to pieces and smear each piece with shit and scatter each one from a different tree. Do you hear me, Vash? Stinking witless liar! You will never defeat us! One day I will stand before you and I will thrust my death spear through your other eye! I…"

He halted as he heard rustling from across the dark thicket. He perked his tufted ears high and peered into the gloom, but saw nothing. But he knew what lurked down here, and his foolish wild shouting had attracted them. He hissed in anger at himself now, so concerned with Vash's eye he had forgotten for a moment that Vash had other weapons, other servants he could call. The great slavering beasts ruled the undershadow, though his tribe hunted them for meat and bone and hide. His age ritual had included such a hunt, and he had plunged his sharpened bone knife into the eyes of one such beast, dodging the snapping hungry jaws while his brothers held it back, tied but full of fury.

But that had been with a full hunting party of his kin. Alone, he knew he would be the hunted today. The beasts were strong and deadly, but they could not climb like his kind. So he took hold of his prize and dragged it towards the nearest of the great trees. There, his problem became clear. He could climb one-handed, slowly by backing up the tree feet first, but he could not also carry the eye. He should have kept the rope, but searching for it now would be unwise with the beasts already smelling his blood.

“Your beasts will not find me, Vash," he muttered, trying to convince both Vash and himself. “I have bested them before, eaten their flesh." He rested with his back cradled in one of the moss-covered folds of bark. More sounds of great furry bodies moving through the underbrush and leaves came to him from both sides, as well as in front. They knew he was injured. Perhaps they remembered that he and his brothers had killed one of their kin, and wanted revenge. He thrust his chest forward and his good arm back and shouted at the beasts, “Come, then! I will take you to face Vash with me!"

The beasts did not sound deterred by his bravado. He could hear their low-throated grunts and snuffles. He didn't want to be torn apart by them, of course. And he did not actually think he could kill even one with no weapons and a broken arm. He hefted the eye and looked into it. It weighed so little, like a giant empty crier's egg. He threaded one of his tails through one of the outer rings, half expecting them to turn to biting jaws that would render him a tail-less outcast. But nothing happened. He threaded his second tail through the neighboring ring and then turned his rear end towards the obscured sky. His strong foot claws gripped the moss and the bark underneath while the eye hung from the roots of his tails over his head.

He began to pull himself backwards up the tree as the blood-warm shapes of the beasts came into view. They saw him trying to escape upwards and lunged, three of them at once. Teeth clipped his ear, the hot, stinking breath washing over his face. Another swiped its deadly claws and ripped the fur and flesh of his good arm while he desperately tried to push himself up with it. The last one jumped and slapped its paws on the tree and roared, the deep rumble of its anger resonating in Tezkee's belly.

He wasted no more breath on insults and taunts now. Falling was death and leaving his prize was dishonor. He would bring the eye back to the elders. He anticipated the glory that would be his. The many females who would want to mate with him. The first warder's praise. He climbed more cautiously once he was out of the beasts' range. The light of the sun returned to him as he broke from the underbrush and he wished he could look up instead of down at the staring eyes of the beasts as they snapped at the blood dripping from his fresh wounds.

When he reached the lowest platform of the village he crawled backwards onto it, on his belly, and collapsed. He let the eye rest next to him but did not release it from his tails. His legs felt boneless and the abused muscles twitched, his claws still grasping at phantom bark and unable to relax. When he had recovered enough strength he lifted his head and called out, screeching to the whole village that he needed help.

He expected the warders to come, and he imagined their faces when they saw his prize. But it was a pair of matrons who answered his call and found him there. The warders, they said, had all gone to the sea shore to challenge Vash's herald.

***

“He still climbing?" asked Powers.

“Yes," said Anders, who was watching the swaying video feed from the crippled but still broadcasting Drone 2 out of the corner of her eye while she studied the maps that the AI had been able to synthesize from the drone data. This included Drone 3, which was in flight. Lin was wearing the VR headset again.

“Tenacious little bastard," said Powers, impressed. He asked Dr. Chauhan, “What does he think he's got there? He's going to a lot of trouble to carry it back up to his friends."

“I should not speculate until we know more about their language and culture. When we make assumptions, we blind ourselves. You assume it is male, for instance. Possibly because you associate its display of bravado with the male gender. They may not even have equivalent genders to ours. All I can say is that it spoke to the drone as if it was alive, further as if it expected the drone to understand. Also it was not afraid of the drone, that much was clear."

The feed from Drone 3 dominated the central screen. Lin was flying it low, coming up under the lowest platforms of the circular treetop village, attempting to stay in their shadows. There were less natives on the lower levels to listen to, however, so he darted behind the great trees as he tried to climb to more populated areas. Lin's jaw was tight as he nudged the controls, fearful of being spotted again.

“Maybe that means they won't be afraid of us, either," offered Anders.

“Yeah, I'm starting to get that feeling, Anders. And it's not a good feeling," said Powers. He asked the disembodied AI, “How's the codebreaking going, ALICE?"

The synthesized female voice of the ship's AI could have been mistaken for a British news anchor. It replied, “I have identified 547 unique vocalizations and am compiling syntactical reference nodes. Job completion estimate 68 per cent."

Anders said, “Well at least that's… um…"

“That's what?"

“Uhh, I think we have a new problem."

“A language problem?"

Anders shook her head. “Here, look," she said, switching the main monitor's view from Drone 3 to one of their craft's external cameras. It showed a view of the edge of the forest. They had chosen a landing site on a broad gravel beach on the shore of one of the larger oceans, in part because there simply was no other open land to be found. The primeval forests dominated the continents. And now out of the shorter, scrubbier trees at the edge of that forest came the natives. They walked upright and with clear purpose, fanning out into a ragged line and advancing on the landing craft.

“Oh, my," said Chauhan.

“What? What's going on?" asked Lin, still flying Drone 3.

“We've got company, ahead of schedule," said Powers. “Keep flying."

“I should bring it back."

“No. They'd probably just attack it like the first two. Keep it at the village, maybe find someplace to hide it for now."

“Roger," said Lin.

“Should we lift off?" asked Anders. “They look aggressive."

Lieutenant Powers asked, “You think we're in any danger from them? Come on."

The furry not-squirrel-people walked onto the gravel of the beach. They had their spears raised while their lemur-like tails lashed behind them, the fur puffed out to its fullest.

The Captain said over the radio, “Prepare for departure. We don't want a confrontation. Lin, park that drone and get the thrusters online."

“Just give me a minute, looking for a safe spot."

“We don't really have much time, Lin. They're closing fast. Ditch the drone if you have to."

“They kind of caught us with our pants down, captain. Thrusters won't be powered up before they get here if they're that close," argued Lin as he continued to pilot the drone.

“Great. Other options?" asked Powers.

Anders furrowed her brow at her readouts and said, “We should be able to manage a greeting even if ALICE is still working. Might make them stop and consider."

“They're almost here," said Powers. “We'll have to try it while we get our act together. Man, they didn't waste any time. One of them must have spotted the ship and then gone back to get his buddies."

“Wait and we see what they do," said the Captain. “If they say 'hello', we respond in kind. If they attack I think you're probably right in your threat assessment, Powers. We can withstand primitive weapons until the thrusters are up and we can withdraw."

The advancing mob formed a wide semicircle around the front of the landing craft. They stopped their advance when they were about five meters away from the wings and nose. Almost every screen in the crew cabin was trained on them now from three different cameras. They still held their spears ready, but now they had begun to chatter to each other. They wore little in the way of clothing— decorative bands around their wrists and ankles as well as harnesses on their chests and backs that held weapons and other tools. None wore anything like a loincloth, but there was also no obvious signs of external sexual organs between their legs. Their fur varied in color: reddish browns and greys with white ventral areas on some, to darker more uniform shades on others. One had nearly black fur. All had black rings on their double tails.

The crew stayed quiet, as if the mob might hear them through the hull if they spoke. The external microphones picked up the sound of the gentle surf behind them and the rising chatter of the natives' speech in front.

After much animated discussion and hand-and-tail-waving, a rusty-red individual walked forward from the line and stood in front of the nosecone of the lander. He thrust his chest forward and his fur fluffed up all over his body. He reached backwards with his arms wide and began to chirp directly at the ship.

“ALICE, was that 'Hello'?"

ALICE's voice replied, “Translation: 'No fear God want query talk'. End. Confidence 71%."

“God?" asked Dr. Chauhan. “ALICE are you sure of that word?"

“90% confidence for specific referent 'God'. This name is used with high frequency. Native speech sample: <Vvatchk>."

Powers laughed. “Well, doctor, what do you think? Are we God?"

“No! Even if they think the ship is a manifestation of their god, we cannot encourage this misconception."

“Might make things easier," he mused. “Not us being God I mean, but say… God sent us here to share His magical gifts! Right? Like that story of Jacob and the angels. I remember hearing that some people used to think the angels were actually aliens that visited earth. So all we ask in return for God's benevolent favor is some land for a spaceport and…"

“That is in bad taste, Powers. We cannot found our relationship with them on lies. What happens when they find out the truth?"

Powers shrugged. “Who's to say it's a lie, doctor?"

Chauhan said nothing, her chin wrinkling in a tight-lipped frown.

“The leader looks like he expects a response. What should we say, doctor?" asked Anders.

Chauhan looked to Anders. “I am not sure. A greeting would be harmless. I hope."

“Captain?" asked Anders.

“Agreed," said Hernandez.

Anders touched her earpiece and said. “ALICE, direct a friendly greeting through the external speakers." A moment later they could hear the external speakers chirp and trill a short couple of native words.

Almost all the natives backed up a step and raised their spears again. The leader stood his ground, and chittered again, leaving his muzzle open at the end, teeth bared. ALICE translated, “'Not lie Vash kill we eat carry home.' End. Confidence 81%."

“Well that sounds encouraging," deadpanned Lin, his head still enveloped in the VR headset.

“Maybe they want to sacrifice us to their god?" asked Anders.

“We cannot assume…" began Chauhan.

“Damn it, Chauhan! Understanding these furballs is your job, but it's been 'Oh, we cannot assume' or 'we should not speculate' the whole damn time! Give us something we can actually use!" snapped Powers.

“We have no basis for comparison! Never have we met a true alien culture. We need more words, more context. If we say the wrong thing it could be a disaster."

Lin said, “Screw it, I've got the drone wedged into a kind of depression on top of one of their bigger basket hut things. Let's get out of here. We can retrieve it once we have some altitude." He removed the headset and switched his seat's controls over to the lander. “Ready to initiate departure sequence."

“Affirmative, Lin," said the Captain. “We'll take what we've learned and go find the next tribe down the coast."

Lin switched on the rotors and the low whine of the engines thrummed to life, increasing in pitch at a steady rate. This got the attention of the natives even more than the botched greeting. As the thrusters began to blow air out in all directions over the ground, the crew expected them to back off, perhaps even to run from the increasing noise. They did the opposite, and charged.

“Holy shit!" said Powers.

The furry natives climbed or leapt onto the smooth hull of the aerodyne, swarming over it in seconds. The crew could hear their claws clicking and scratching on the composite skin. One of them found an external camera bubble. A brief distorted view of a sniffing, whiskery and velvet-furred nose appeared. Then the screen was filled with a flurry of curved wicked claws trying to pry the bubble loose.

“They're fucking with the thruster intakes!" shouted Lin as the engine sound degraded into a nasty grinding sound on one side of the craft.

“Get us up!" said Powers.

“Trying…" said Lin as he pushed the thrusters open far faster than takeoff procedure called for. The aerodyne struggled, then lurched upwards, spilling several attackers from the wings and fuselage. But some still held on. The ship wobbled as Lin tried to compensate for the unequal thrust. He dipped the nose and they started to move towards the treeline. Then he tried to turn the ship to head up the shoreline.

A loud bang sounded from the left thruster, followed by the scream of tearing metal and the terrified shouts of most of the crew. Alarms began to flash and blare and Lin overcompensated for the loss. He fired the main flight engines at the rear of the craft, hoping to gain some forward momentum and lift before they lost altitude. The ground came up too fast on one side and the edge of the wing met the unforgiving gravel with a shuddering crunch. They pitched forward and then fell back, resting on the nose and mangled wing. The cabin lights flickered and Lin cut the power to all the engines.

“What? Why did you stop? We have to get out of here!" babbled Powers as he struggled in his tilted seat.

“I got one thruster destroyed and the opposite wing probably shredded. Ride's over, LT. Captain, do you still read me?"

There was only silence from the radio.

“Shit! We're going to need extraction with the second lander if we ever want off this rock. No way this tub is ever making orbit again."

“What else is damaged?" asked Lt. Powers.

Lin scanned the flashing angry readouts. “Radio's shot, not sure why. Leaking hydraulics, though that doesn't matter now. Oh, perfect! We're losing air pressure in the cabin. Something must have breached the hull or we got twisted up bad. No idea where. But we're going to be testing whether the air outside is really breathable real soon."

“How long can we sustain pressure with the reserves?"

“At the rate of loss, uhh… 20 minutes, maybe."

“What are the furry bastards outside doing?"

“No idea. We shook a bunch off I think, check the cameras, some of them still seem to work."

Anders began to panic. “What do we do? Captain can't exactly get us out of here with that bunch of savages waiting outside!"

Powers fumed, “The captain didn't want to start a war with them, but it looks like that's what they wanted. All we did was try to talk, for God's sake. We were attacked! I don't know what that book says to do now, but since we can't ask the captain, I'm in command and we're going to clear the landing zone of hostiles ahead of extraction."

Chauhan said in disbelief, “You want to shoot them all? We are the strangers here. We…"

“Save it, doctor. What if they don't ever want to play nice, eh? We're here to survey this planet for colonization. It's the best one we've ever found in fifty years of searching, and a couple billion human souls are waiting on us to find them a new home. A few spear-throwing squirrels aren't going to change that fact. I think they should find out what happens when you bring a spear to a pulse rifle fight."

“This is a mistake," said Chauhan. “Remember your own American history!"

“It worked out pretty well for us in the end," said Powers without any humor in his voice.

Lin and Anders silenced most of the audible alarms, though the red indicators remained, illuminating the half-dark flight deck in chaotic flashing. Soon the sounds of the tenacious Keplerians on the hull returned as they probed and pried at their downed quarry with claws and speartips.

Powers opened the weapons locker and retrieved a plasma pulse rifle. “Lin, you ready?"

“Yes sir," he nodded with enthusiasm, unstrapping and joining Powers at the locker.

Powers cradled his weapon in his arms and said, “I doubt this will take long. Shock and awe, they used to say. I counted about two dozen standing around before they attacked so as long as you're not a terrible shot we should have enough charge to toast all of them if we have to. But I predict they all bolt after the first couple get cooked." He turned to Anders and Chauhan. “You two stay inside until we give the all-clear."

Lin grabbed his own weapon before they both headed down the now-slanted ladder to the belly hatch. No one else spoke.

Once they were sealed inside the airlock, Chauhan shook her head and watched the video feed from the camera on the aerodyne's belly. “We repeat history, despite remembering it." She didn't want to watch the carnage, but she couldn't look away as the external hatchway doors opened to admit the light of the sunlit beach. The natives were attracted to the sound and the two men started firing as soon as they had clear lines on targets while still inside the airlock, slinging blinding-hot plasma bolts. The cameras washed out for a moment from the glare. When it cleared, the men had jumped to the ground from the crazily-angled hatch, which was closing up again. They fired another volley at the squirrel-men, who were now running in what appeared to be chaos, making zig-zag paths in all directions. There were several smoking bodies on the shingle beach.

Before Lin and Powers could focus on new targets, the tailed shadows of natives suddenly appeared falling from above— Chauhan realized they must have climbed over the ship that the two men were using to cover their backs. They spun and fired, but they had to aim high to avoid hitting the ship itself. More Keplerians jumped on them without hesitation. Powers and Lin tried to fend them off, but there were too many bodies, too many claws. They disappeared under the furry wave and were taken to the ground, just outside the camera's tilted angle.

Chauhan could still hear the muffled screams of her crewmates even if she could not see what was happening to them. She covered her ears, though the earpiece made it impossible to shut it out. She said, “Tell them to stop! ALICE tell them to stop in the name of God."

ALICE replied, “Translating simplified message 'God says stop attack'. 54% confidence."

The external speakers broadcast their message before Chauhan could process the implication of how ALICE interpreted her own words. The natives stood and faced the direction that the loud distorted sound of their own synthesized tongue came from. They bared their teeth and raised their bloodstained knives, tails waving in fervent agitation.

The incongruous calm and cultured voice of the AI translated the leader's response. “'We never stop God we kill' End. Confidence 90%."

Anders looked at Dr. Chauhan, eyes wide.

She said, “I don't know, I… ALICE, tell them we surrender. We surrender and we want peace. Tell them that."

Again the amplified clicks and chirps sounded. This time, however, The natives stopped, lowered their weapons halfway. They looked to the leader while the scattered troop began to return. The leader spoke to his closest companions, now standing over the bleeding bodies of Lin and Powers.

“ALICE, what is the leader saying?" asked Dr. Chauhan.

The AI's voice replied, “'God surrender lie truth question carry meat go.' End. Confidence 90%."

Anders said, “Oh God…" when she heard the word 'meat'. Several of the warriors crouched and picked up the limp and bloody bodies of Lin and Powers. It took three of them to carry each man, but they heaved them up onto their shoulders and walked off towards the tree line. She cried, “We can't just let them take them away! They're going to…" but she bit her knuckle and couldn't finish the thought.

“We just need to understand…"

“What's to understand?" shouted Anders in a hoarse half-sob. “They hate us! Powers was right. The colonial marines will have to just kill them all. This whole mission was a waste. Lin and Powers died for nothing."

Chauhan stared at the camera for several minutes while Anders wept. She unstrapped himself from her seat and said, “ALICE, can you transfer language module to a portable?"

“Yes, doctor. Select portable."

“Mine."

“What are you doing?" asked Anders.

“I cannot do nothing. If I do nothing then you will be right. We will have failed and there will be war. Many more people will die here as they fight to take this world. Many more of the children of this world will die. Perhaps all of them, in the end. I do not want this on my soul. That I saw the future and did nothing to prevent it."

“What if you can't prevent it? They will kill you as soon as you come out of the hatch, doctor. You will die for nothing too."

“I choose to believe that I can. I have never been a true believer in any one interpretation of God, Anders. But if He made us and them both in His image, He surely did not mean for us to kill each other."

Dr. Chauhan pulled her portable datapad from its dock and clipped it into a back harness rig. Then she put the rig on backwards so that the portable computer lay close against her chest.

“There is no God, Chauhan. That they look anything like us is some cosmic joke or a result of convergent evolution. Don't be stupid!"

She turned and worked her way over the slanted deck to the airlock door. “They believe in God, Anders. That may be what saves us. And them." She cycled the lock open and climbed down the ladder.

Anders watched the lock close and then turned to the display screens. “I hope you are right. What do you want me to tell the captain, if she sends the other lander?"

“Thank you, Anders. Tell her I hope to see her again." came the reply through her earpiece.

***

Ketrhik crouched on the stones of the beach, one hand on his spear. At his feet lay one of the fire-throwers that the tail-less demons had held. They had used them to kill eight of his brothers before they could even cry out. He dared not touch it. It was cursed. Given by Vash Himself to His demons. It was an strange thing, made from many pieces fitted tightly together. He could not see how. It was stone-grey, darker than the giant insect shell the demons had emerged from, like younglings from a female's pouch.

One of the other warders had suggested that the insect shell was Vash. But no, Ketrhik did not believe that, even though it had spoken to them. Vash called the storms. Vash commanded destroying flame. This insect thing was only a servant, as were the two demons. It lay where it had fallen, tilted up, belly exposed like an invitation to slaughter. He stood.

The other warders were busy collecting the charred remains of their brothers. They would be carried back to the village circle and given death spears for their final confrontation with Vash. He wondered if they would appear before Him all together because they had died together. He hoped they would. That would surprise Vash.

The insect had not spoken since it had cried surrender. It still made a low humming sound, however, so he knew it was not dead. He did not trust it. He walked closer, tails twitching. One of the other warders noticed and joined him.

“There might be more demons inside its belly, Ketrhik," he warned.

Ketrhik nodded. “I am sure of it."

“How?"

“Who surrendered, if not them?"

“Maybe it is Vash Himself inside?"

Ketrhik clicked his teeth in derision. “Vash, Maker of All Things, Bringer of Pain, trapped inside a dying insect, crying surrender. No, I do not think Vash is inside. Just more of his slaves."

The sound of the hatch opening got their full attention. Remembering that the demons had begun throwing fire from inside the belly, they both chirped a piercing warning to all the remaining warders and raced around to the other side of the downed insect. Several climbed back up onto it, ready to fall upon the demons once again from above.

Ketrhik peeked through the narrow opening between the edge of one of the wings and the ground. The buzzing sound ended and soon a demon jumped to the ground. Ketrhik could see its clawless feet. A moment later there was a strange sound, like a mixture of the growls of a forest beast and the morning calls of the criers. When it finished, a Ketchvash voice said, “I am no weapon. I want to talk." The words were clear, but it was no one's voice that he recognized.

He did not expose himself, expecting a trap. He asked instead, “Who are you?"

Again there was the odd moaning babble followed by actual words. “I am friend. Fight no. I want to talk."

“You are no friend. You are Vash's slaves."

More babbling was followed by, “I no slave. I child of Vash. You child of Vash. I want peace. I have message elder far sky star."

Ketrhik looked to the warder on his right. “Message elder far sky star? What does it mean?"

“It must have a message for the elders. Maybe the flying eyes were trying to deliver it."

“Drop your fire thrower and we will take you to the elders," called out Ketrhik.

“I have no fire. I have pack for talk. No weapon. No fight."

“The other demons killed eight of my brothers!"

“I sorry. They angry you hurt sky bower. No fight I."

Ketrhik still felt that this had to be a trap, but there was only the one demon. He signaled to the three warders perched on the slanted wing, then he crept to the edge of the same wing and peeked around it, stealing a glance at the demon. It seemed much like the other two, with the same strange furless skin that looked like it was made from colored beast hides stitched together. Its head was different, with darker skin than the other two and longer white fur on top. No ears, unless the small wrinkled things on the sides of its head could count. And no tails that he could see. He stole another glance.

The demon saw him, but made no move except for its eyes looking his way. Below them its face was flat like a disfigured grotesque nightmare, with only a tiny fleshy muzzle above what must be its mouth. It stood with its arms away from its sides, clawless fingers spread. He saw no fire thrower like the others had carried. But they were still on the ground nearby, within a quick jump's reach. Unlike the others, this one had a square black thing strapped to its front, like a flat stone in a hide-stitched pack.

When Ketrhik looked again, it still made no moves, so he did not pull his head back behind cover. When it saw this, it murmured with its mouth. When it finished, the Ketchvash voice came from the flat stone on its chest. “You see. I no weapon. I go you. Go elder. Talk elder." Then it slowly began to spread its arms wider until they were fully extended. Then it pulled them back, presenting its chest like a challenge.

Ketrhik eyed the discarded fire throwers on the ground and planned his route with care before starting towards the demon, his spear raised and ready. He signaled to the warders on the wing behind the demon with his tail to wait. He crossed in front of the weapons, then closed on the demon, which was holding its challenge, waiting with its eyes closed. Ready to die, maybe.

He got within striking distance and it raised its head, offering its throat. Ketrhik was tempted to kill it. But he was no careless youngling. The elders would want to hear this message it carried from Vash. Surrender, the louder voice had claimed. Perhaps Vash wished to make a deal. Perhaps He knew, finally, that He would never have victory. Ketrhik could not wait to know. He asked, “What does Vash want?"

It spoke, then the talking stone spoke. “You me friend. Peace. No fight."

Ketrhik clicked his teeth and said, “You do not want to fight because you are defeated. Vash only wants to destroy us. You lie for Him," he hissed, baring his teeth. The demon flinched but did not move. “I will take you to the elders. They will hear your lies for what they are." He chirped to the other warders to come out.

They surrounded the demon, held its arms. It did not struggle or resist. Then they walked it into the forest, leaving a hand of warders to watch the great insect in case there were more demons waiting inside.

***

Tezkee would not let go of the eye, even when standing before Rakhza, the eldest elder of his village. The matrons had given him fruitwater and fussed over his wounds, but he had only wanted to show his prize to the elders. They had made him rest anyway— you could not argue with a matron and win. When they had decided he was strong enough, they had helped him finish his climb to the topmost platforms and stood behind him as he told his tale to Rakhza.

The elder fixed the youngster with a dubious glare as Tezkee spoke, but did not interrupt. When Tezkee finished and held the eye out to him with his good arm, Rakhza gave it an evil look and nodded to the shaman to take it, not wanting to touch it himself. Then he addressed Tezkee in his cracking, labored voice.

"You were a fool to follow it, alone, to the top. Vash lured you. Meant to end you, as He always does. You were a fool to try to capture it yourself, with no help from the warders."

Tezkee opened his mouth to interrupt but the elder held up his gnarled hand and silenced him with a quick motion of his claws. "In our struggle against Vash we have only each other. Alone we will be destroyed. Did you learn nothing from your age ritual? You alone did not kill the beast. All of you did. Together. I fear the lesson was lost on you." Rakhza rubbed his whiskers and sighed. "But here you stand, victorious and alive. I cannot punish you for victory. You will be honored, Tezkee."

Tezkee asked, "What will you do with Vash's eye?"

"It watches us still," said the elder, "We should rip it to pieces. But I wish for Vash to see the warders return with the carcass of His giant grey insect. To see that His plans end in failure." He struggled out of the hammock seat he occupied, got to his feet and thrust his thin-furred chest out towards the eye, sweeping his arms back. "Hear me, Vash. You will never destroy us."

Tezkee echoed the elder's posture and promise, as did the others behind him. After Rakhza had once again settled into the hammock seat, Tezkee asked, "What great grey insect?"

"The fishers spotted it two days past at the shore, before the first eye came. Ketrhik and his warders went to destroy it today."

"I would have joined them," said Tezkee with disappointment.

"You are not a warder yet, Tezkee. And now we have this eye, thanks to you. Rest and heal. I will tell the first warder of your deed when he returns."

Tezkee bowed his head and twined his tails in deference to the elder and then left with a matron for the healing bower.

***

Dr. Chauhan stood on a large uneven platform of thick woven vines, surrounded by at least a hundred hostile Keplerians. Most kept their distance, watching from nearby platforms and teardrop-shaped dwellings, all eyes on the stranger. The cacophony of their chirping, clicking language reminded her of roosting jungle birds. The portable strapped to her chest couldn't keep up and didn't bother trying. She saw young ones in the crowd, some clinging to adults. She spotted one adult with two tiny faces peeking from a vertical slit in its belly fur. A mother with a pouch, perhaps. She turned slowly, mindful of the twitchy guards who had brought her here, but wanting to capture it all on video for future xenosociologists.

She had been afraid when they took her into the forest. Afraid of what they might do to her. Afraid of falling. During the arduous climb up the narrow but remarkable vine cables to the village she had to remind herself that she had chosen this perilous path, that the cost of failure would be more that just her own sticky end. Now that she was here, and the elders were approaching to hear what she had to say, she felt a kind of calm come over her. They were curious. They would listen. There was a chance. She just had to choose the right words.

The small group made their way down from a higher platform and the crowd parted to let them pass. There were four of them, three with decorated spears and necklaces of teeth and polished stones. Elders, she had to assume. The last one followed behind, a younger one from its size and lack of fine jewelry. It was carrying one of their lost drones by one hand, the arm wrapped in leaves. The other arm was splinted and stiff. Dr. Chauhan decided it must be the one who had fallen with the drone and then fought to bring it back up from hell.

The group stopped a few meters from her, and all assumed the challenge pose, directed at her. They thought she was sent by their God, that much was clear. And they did not like their God. Hated Him, in fact. She would have to convince them that she was not on their God's side.

One of the elders spoke. A moment later her earpiece gave her the translation. “Guards say you have message slave-of-God. Speak message."

Dr. Chauhan replied, “I am not a slave-of-God. My message is from my people. My tribe."

When the translation ended the elders briefly conferred with each other before addressing the doctor again. “You lie. God send slave-of-God to attack defiant."

“Defiant? You are called defiant?"

“Yes. All defiant. No surrender God. You slave-of-God."

“No. We are…" Dr. Chauhan paused. The word 'human' just meant 'man' at its root. It had no descriptive meaning like 'defiant'. She improvised. “We are explorers. God did not send us. God does not speak to us like that."

That seemed to confuse the elder. Perhaps explorer wasn't a word ALICE had heard yet. He asked, “Why come here?"

The doctor felt that the truth presented the easiest argument. “More of my tribe are coming. Many more. They seek to make their homes here. We want to live in peace with the defiant. But they will hurt you if you fight them," she said, hoping the translator would not mangle it too much.

Another short discussion ensued. A more animated one. Tails lashed and arms waved. The one who had been chosen to speak asked, “Where tribe?"

Dr. Chauhan pointed to the sky. “My tribe comes from the stars."

As soon as that had been translated the elder bared his teeth and hissed. He said, “Slave-of-God, you will not destroy us. We send you back to God. You tell God we come for him."

“I can not tell God anything. We are not slaves of God," she argued again. The doctor wondered if the translation had failed somehow— what had caused the sudden hostility? Before the translation had finished, she asked them, “Why do you hate God so much?"

“Slave of God lie not know. All know. God hate defiant. God kill defiant. All know."

“I don't know. Tell me."

The elder struck the platform with the butt of his spear and began talking. Gesturing and reciting a story. After a short delay, the words began to flow into Dr. Chauhan's ear. “God create all. God create ground. God create sky. God create ocean. God create trees. God create beasts on ground, in sky, in ocean. God create defiant. God speak defiant live this tree, live that tree. Defiant live tree. All peace. Defiant make children. Live more tree. God speak defiant stop. Stop children. Too many. Defiant laugh. Speak God no. Live all tree. God angry. God create pain. God create death. God turn beast angry. Make beast slave-of-God. God send storm. God send fire. God kill defiant. Defiant no surrender. Defiant make more children. God kill same. God send slave-of-God kill defiant. Defiant kill slave-of-God. All defiant speak God never defeat. Always fight. All defiant brothers. Defiant will kill God. When God dead then peace joy."

Dr. Chauhan was struck by the simplicity of their religion. They had solved the eternal question of how a benevolent God could allow so much pain and suffering to befall His children. These children simply concluded God was not benevolent. That He was a sadistic abusive monster that they had to oppose and ultimately destroy. She had to admit it had a certain rebellious appeal. Why had humanity never come to this conclusion? Of all the ways early man could have seen the divine hand in nature, they had always assumed God loved them, or could at least be bargained with. She wanted to study these people, to learn more of their history and their mythology, but she had no time now. She had to choose her words carefully.

He said, “I understand. God also created my tribe. We also did not obey Him. Then God became angry and sent us out of our forest. We are like the defiant. We can help you. We can be your brothers. Teach you new things. Make you stronger to fight God." It was true, she thought, as far as it went. Their concept of God embodied the indifferent or seeming malevolent forces of the universe conspiring to destroy them. Humanity's technology could help them overcome those forces, and in time perhaps they would feel less threatened. She decided now was not the time to discuss the more nuanced and varied human relationship with the divine.

This started another argument, as well as rising murmuring cacophony from the assembled crowd. The doctor waited. The translator could only give her disconnected words picked out of the noise, but she felt the conflict. They wanted her promised gifts, but they did not trust her or where she came from. Anything outside their world was suspect. Sent by Vash to torment them. It was such a limiting philosophy. Them against the rest of the universe.

At one point one of the three elders left in what Dr. Chauhan thought could only be described as a huff. The speaker held up a hand and the crowd quieted. He spoke, and the doctor heard, “I speak you not know you slave-of-God. God hate slave-of-God same hate defiant. Want trade weapon. Want trade tool. Want make village here. I speak give message you tribe. I show you dead shell then you go. Sunrise." He was already leaving when the English translation finished.

The guards led her to a vine-woven basket-hut that clung to one of the great trees. Once she was inside they covered the opening with an animal hide. Between the gaps in the weaving she could see that she was being guarded. Not that she had plans to escape. She sat cross-legged in the bowl-shaped depression in the center and closed her eyes. It had gone better than she had expected, she told himself. They were willing to listen, even after several of them had been murdered by her crewmates. They hadn't even brought that up, though perhaps that was because it was what they expected of any outsider. It sounded like they might even release her after showing her the 'dead shell'. She hoped that they had not done something horrible to Lin and Powers as some kind of warning display. She quieted her mind, banishing such maudlin thoughts. In a quiet voice she asked the portable to play the soothing sound of a Tibetan singing bowl and meditated.

***

Dawn came with the rising songs of the small flying reptilians that nested near the village. Her hosts gave her something to eat. It appeared to be a tree fruit with a tough scaled husk like an artichoke. She peeled the scales and sampled some of the moist but fibrous white flesh. Bitterness coated her tongue, the warning taste of poison. Though not always, she thought. Many good foods could be bitter. But she decided not to take the chance. She set the fruit aside. She could fast. She had done so in the past, for days sometimes, to cleanse the mind and body.

The same warriors that had escorted her from the ship were there waiting when she was brought out into the dim pink light of the dawn. She wondered what Anders was doing. Had the captain already sent the second landing craft down to rescue her? Would they judge her lost, or would they try to rescue her? She hoped they would not— the sudden appearance of the aerodyne over the village would probably erase whatever small trust she had earned.

The elder led them out of the village, away from the shoreline and the ship. It seemed like they were climbing in altitude as they went, though it was difficult to judge when the cables traced their hanging curved paths down and then back up on each segment. At one tree platform she was able to peer backwards through the gaps in the canopy and see the tops of the great trees and even the ocean in the distance behind. They were climbing.

After what must have been mid-day she saw the first sign of solid ground since she had left the beach. A ridge of dark grey stone came into view, cutting across their path. It was so abrupt a cliff that it was exposed to the sunlight. The trees at the bottom of the cliff barely grew tall enough to reach the edge. The trees on the higher ground were stunted and small like those near the beach had been, but their roots grew into and out of the cliff face, grasping at the rock like tentacles, grinding it to pieces over eons. The cable they walked was bound to one of these gnarled dwarfs. When they reached it his escorts jumped down to the rock ledge and she followed.

Dr. Chauhan could see that they took advantage of the exposed scar across the forest as a quarry for what stone they required. There were tools and broken stone scattered near the terminus of the cable. They did not linger, however. Instead they walked on the ground into the trees. Remembering the great carnivorous predators of the forest floor she asked, “Are there beasts here?"

The elder said, “No," but did not elaborate further.

They walked a narrow path through the undergrowth and Dr. Chauhan wanted to ask why the beasts did not live here, but she found the answer for herself. She had already noticed that the trees were smaller here. None were more than about 2 meters across. Still huge by earth standards but a young forest for this world. If they were anything like Earth trees, this piece of forest atop the ridge was only a few hundred years old. Perhaps a thousand. And resting in the undergrowth was the reason.

There was a derelict ship before her. The metal of its hull was a dull green where it showed through the clinging moss, but she could see the obvious lines of an otherworldly craft designed to fly through air and space. It was much larger than the one she had arrived in, covering the area of a football pitch. Since nothing seemed able to grow through its bulk, the light of the sun shone on half its broken spine. There were jagged black openings that led into its interior, as if it had been cracked open like an enormous crustacean. There was nothing remotely human about its design. Her blood ran cold and she stood there, staring, mouth open. She felt on the verge of tears.

The sound of native chatter did not get her attention at first, but the translation in her ear did. “Look. See. Slave-of-God come. Many elder elder time. Kill tree, make village. Defiant speak slave-of-God, slave-of-God no speak. Kill defiant. Defiant return more. Kill all slave-of-God, speak God no defeat. Never defeat. You go speak you tribe. Speak defiant no weak, no stop. You speak friend, you speak tribe no come. You tribe come, you tribe die."

The doctor blinked, still staring at the ship. She understood the elder, even if the words were imperfect. More than that, she learned for the second time in recent days that humanity was not alone in the universe. Who were these other aliens? Were they still out there? How many others had come here, thinking to claim this rich world, only to be driven away by these dauntless guardians of their Eden?

Having shown her what they felt she needed to see, they led her back down into their forest. She was disturbed by the certainty that because the ancient wreck was there, waiting to be explored, researched and plundered for all its technological secrets, nothing would now persuade her government to leave the Keplerians in peace. She considered erasing this part of the recording from the portable and claiming a hardware failure, but she found she could not bring herself to do it. She knew she wanted to know its secrets as much as anyone.

***

Tezkee was furious. He stood on the beach with the other warders, watching the second giant insect rise above the waves and then fly out over the water, growing smaller and smaller until the only thing that remained was the white line it left in the air. Then that, too, disappeared. He had been made a warder for his bravery, and should have been pleased. But his victory felt wasted while the demons themselves went free. He burned to tell the elder that Vash had made fools of them all, but he had already been scolded by him once, so he said nothing.

The elder had accompanied the warders to the beach and stood at the water's edge. He sensed Tezkee's disquiet. Or could hear the youngster's teeth grinding behind his back. He said, “You are unhappy, new warder. Speak your thoughts or they will torment you."

Tezkee laid his ears back. “We should have killed it. And the others that came to take it away. Now they will return to Vash and He will send more demons next time with more fire throwers."

The elder scratched the side of his muzzle, smoothing his sparse whiskers. After a pause he asked Tezkee, “Do you serve Vash?"

“No!" he cried, insulted and fearful of the accusation. “I ask forgiveness, elder, if I offended you."

Rakhza held up his hand and clicked his teeth once. “I asked you to speak your thoughts. But you do not understand. I do not think you are Vash's slave. But would you know, if you were?"

“Yes! Vash would speak to me. Tell me to kill you, kill all my brothers and bring fire to the village. Or worse!"

“We named it a demon, but it said no. It said it was no slave of Vash. it said that its tribe had been banished from their forest by Him."

“It lied. Vash told it to say those things to fool us."

“Maybe. Vash hates us, and will until we destroy Him. Maybe He hates these tail-less ones he made too. Are we doing His work by killing them? I was a far-runner when I was your age. I have been to many villages and seen other dead shells. None live that remember the ones that rode in them. Only that we killed them all."

“So that is why you let it go?"

“We showed it the dead shell. They will know we are strong. They will know we do not fear them and we do not fear Vash. When they return they will show if they serve Vash by what they do. If there is a chance to have them as brothers…"

When Rakhza did not finish the thought, Tezkee realized the elder expected him to do it. He offered, “As brothers maybe they will help us kill Vash?"

“The stories tell that Vash looks down on us from the stars. Maybe this tribe can carry us to Him and we can surprise Him, face Him without having to die first," said the elder, then laughed.

Tezkee looked up, wondering if Vash was listening, and if He was afraid. “Do you believe they will help us?" he asked.

The elder turned away and began walking back to the forest. He said without looking back, “Yes or no, we must send far-runners to spread the warning. They will return, no matter what we do."