The Messenger

Paul crouched in the mud examining a set of foot prints. Woodcraft had never been his specialty. In the early morning gloom of the forest he couldn't determine whether the prints were his own or not. Not the first time since leaving the mine last night he'd regretted not enlisting the assistance of a guide. Several had been milling about in the yard but over the past month he had grown increasingly suspicious of the aliens' intentions.

The loss of contact with headquarters two days ago and the discreet request of the mine supervisor yesterday evening to run a message up to the relay station had only fortified his distrust. A twig cracked breaking his reverie. Paul swung in the direction of the sound jerking his pistol from his holster. The air sizzled as he fired two shots at a dark form closing toward him. The ferocity of this world did not favor the timid.

The figure crumpled to the ground. Paul moved closer. The yellow eyes blinked open.

“Trish, why did you attack me.”

“It was not my intention to harm you Paul.” The mechanical voice broadcast from a translator mechanism attached to the creature's neck. “I bring a request.” The creature shuddered violently. A dark stain spread across its tunic. “You know of the cave they found?”

“I have an idea.”

“It is only a small part. We want the operation stopped. The humans have been detained and will not be harmed. We will find other deposits. Please do not send your message. Soldiers will come. Give us time.”

A few hours later Paul stood gazing fixedly into the flames of a funeral pyre. With a flick he tossed a small plastic chip onto the fire and turned resolutely away.

298 Words