Z-23

You land on an uninhabited planet, only it isn't

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Z-23

Introduction
Sci-Fi. The prompt was the cover from a science fiction comic book in 30s. It showed a woman (provocatively dressed, or undressed, of course) looking out a spacecraft window at an ugly alien. The spacecraft had made an emergency landing on an uninhabited planet. A little longer, about a thousand words. This was fun. Enjoy.

Story
The shudder from the retro rockets woke me. After the stabilizing pylons had leveled the ship, the Captain announced.

Attention, passengers! Our spaceship has made an emergency landing on planetoid Z-23. There is no cause to fear an attack, as this place is known to be uninhabited.

Judging from how easy it was to spring from the slumber platform, Z-23 was larger than the moon, but smaller than Mars. Rough guess was a G-factor of 0.2. This would explain why it was uninhabited—no atmosphere. The view-port shields were still down, and I needed to sleep. I re-positioned the platform and jumped back into bed. I pushed too hard and hit my head on my cubicle ceiling, which used to be the aft wall. I was soon asleep, lulled by the hum of the thoracite preactor.

****

I awoke to a tapping on my viewport. How could that be? Did repairs require extra-vehicular egress? Did we sustain structural damage? I checked my chronometer. I had been asleep for 27 microplankets (mPs). If we’re still on Z-23, we must have big problems. I’m a stellar linguist, which used to be called a telepath, way back when. That means I can communicate with most sentient beings. The viewport shielding blocks all electromagnetic waves and photons of all known sizes. I couldn’t tell what was making the noise. The tapping persisted. I had no idea who or what was knocking. My pod is completely shielded to allow me a measure of peace. I didn’t need this. I needed at least 75 more mPs to fully re-charge. Annoyed, I called the bridge to find out what was happening. There was no response.

****

I am the only passenger on a diplomatic mission to Spectra 4. There is a captain and chief-engineer, or so I’ve been told. I’ve had no direct contact with either of them. Security escorted me to my pod and left on my own. Just as well, being around more than a few normal people comes close to sensory overload. I much prefer thoughts to speech, and laughter hurts. Anger can cause physical damage. I’m not a lot of fun to be around, unless it is with other linguists, and there aren’t many of them.

Tried the pod door to no avail. I don’t handle emotions well, and fear hurts the most. I was in pain. Meditation is the only thing that helps. I returned to the slumber platform and began my mantra. The tapping continued. Anything but sound waves and I wouldn’t be bothered, still the ship’s hull should have dampened all sound. Why am I hearing this tapping? Am I hearing it or feeling it? My sensory system cannot always distinguish between primary inputs. I placed my hand on the viewport. I could feel the vibrations. They were real, and they were outside.

****

I lay back, planning what to do next, when the view-port screen parted. I was not ready for this. I screamed. It was an involuntary response, as are most screams. It scared the creature staring at me as much as he, or it scared me. He had a roughly humanoid shape with shoulders, neck and fingers with nails, but then it got strange. He/it had widely separated teeth in the top of his mouth and no lower teeth. How could it eat? It had large protruding eyes, a porcine nose, and a furrowed brow and skull. His skin was pockmarked, hairless, and yellowish green. It was grotesque but not repulsive. Maybe I’ve been in space too long. It was not alone.

****

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and sent my thoughts to him/it. It took a while, but we exchanged thoughts. It became a he. He is, I’ll not try to pronounce his name for you. I called him Elad. He liked the name. He eventually called me Ild. I could not pronounce any of his proper names or nouns. We had to rely on descriptions and then give them names we both accepted. This made for limited and tedious conversations. Elad and his friends were hospitable enough; they were just curious. They had never seen a spaceship before, never seen a human. We settled on Eladians for the name for Elad’s people, and Ildians for humans, though I was the only human the Eladians had seen. While I relished conversing with new lifeforms, I was uneasy not knowing what had happened to my fellow Ildians. I asked Elad if he could help.

****

The Eladians had impressive musculature, more surprising because with limited gravity, they didn’t need it. Still, it worked to my advantage. They were able to leap upon the stabilizing pylons and climb up to the bridge, not that it did any good. The bridge screens were up; they couldn’t look inside. They surveyed the ship’s hull for any dents, cracks, or holes. If you want a challenge, try describing a dent to someone who has never seen one. Anyway, the hull looked to them to be intact – no apparent structural damage. So far, so good.

****

What happens next? Does Ild escape from Z-23? Is the crew alive? What do the Eladians want? The answers to these and other questions will be in your December issue of Weird. If you want your copy delivered to you, sign up to be a Weirdo. Not only will you get each issue of Weird before your friends, but a Weirdo cap and shirt, for the same price as a year’s worth of Weird magazines at the newsstand. Do it now, so you can be the first to know.

The shudder from the retro rockets woke me. After the stabilizing pylons had leveled the ship, the Captain announced.

Attention, passengers! Our spaceship has made an emergency landing on planetoid Z-23. There is no cause to fear an attack, as this place is known to be uninhabited.

Judging from how easy it was to spring from the slumber platform, Z-23 was larger than the moon, but smaller than Mars. Rough guess was a G-factor of 0.2. This would explain why it was uninhabited—no atmosphere. The view-port shields were still down, and I needed to sleep. I re-positioned the platform and jumped back into bed. I pushed too hard and hit my head on my cubicle ceiling, which used to be the aft wall. I was soon asleep, lulled by the hum of the thoracite preactor.

****

I awoke to a tapping on my viewport. How could that be? Did repairs require extra-vehicular egress? Did we sustain structural damage? I checked my chronometer. I had been asleep for 27 microplankets (mPs). If we’re still on Z-23, we must have big problems. I’m a stellar linguist, which used to be called a telepath, way back when. That means I can communicate with most sentient beings. The viewport shielding blocks all electromagnetic waves and photons of all known sizes. I couldn’t tell what was making the noise. The tapping persisted. I had no idea who or what was knocking. My pod is completely shielded to allow me a measure of peace. I didn’t need this. I needed at least 75 more mPs to fully re-charge. Annoyed, I called the bridge to find out what was happening. There was no response.

****

I am the only passenger on a diplomatic mission to Spectra 4. There is a captain and chief-engineer, or so I’ve been told. I’ve had no direct contact with either of them. Security escorted me to my pod and left on my own. Just as well, being around more than a few normal people comes close to sensory overload. I much prefer thoughts to speech, and laughter hurts. Anger can cause physical damage. I’m not a lot of fun to be around, unless it is with other linguists, and there aren’t many of them.

Tried the pod door to no avail. I don’t handle emotions well, and fear hurts the most. I was in pain. Meditation is the only thing that helps. I returned to the slumber platform and began my mantra. The tapping continued. Anything but sound waves and I wouldn’t be bothered, still the ship’s hull should have dampened all sound. Why am I hearing this tapping? Am I hearing it or feeling it? My sensory system cannot always distinguish between primary inputs. I placed my hand on the viewport. I could feel the vibrations. They were real, and they were outside.

****

I lay back, planning what to do next, when the view-port screen parted. I was not ready for this. I screamed. It was an involuntary response, as are most screams. It scared the creature staring at me as much as he, or it scared me. He had a roughly humanoid shape with shoulders, neck and fingers with nails, but then it got strange. He/it had widely separated teeth in the top of his mouth and no lower teeth. How could it eat? It had large protruding eyes, a porcine nose, and a furrowed brow and skull. His skin was pockmarked, hairless, and yellowish green. It was grotesque but not repulsive. Maybe I’ve been in space too long. It was not alone.

****

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and sent my thoughts to him/it. It took a while, but we exchanged thoughts. It became a he. He is, I’ll not try to pronounce his name for you. I called him Elad. He liked the name. He eventually called me Ild. I could not pronounce any of his proper names or nouns. We had to rely on descriptions and then give them names we both accepted. This made for limited and tedious conversations. Elad and his friends were hospitable enough; they were just curious. They had never seen a spaceship before, never seen a human. We settled on Eladians for the name for Elad’s people, and Ildians for humans, though I was the only human the Eladians had seen. While I relished conversing with new lifeforms, I was uneasy not knowing what had happened to my fellow Ildians. I asked Elad if he could help.

****

The Eladians had impressive musculature, more surprising because with limited gravity, they didn’t need it. Still, it worked to my advantage. They were able to leap upon the stabilizing pylons and climb up to the bridge, not that it did any good. The bridge screens were up; they couldn’t look inside. They surveyed the ship’s hull for any dents, cracks, or holes. If you want a challenge, try describing a dent to someone who has never seen one. Anyway, the hull looked to them to be intact – no apparent structural damage. So far, so good.

****

What happens next? Does Ild escape from Z-23? Is the crew alive? What do the Eladians want? The answers to these and other questions will be in your December issue of Weird. If you want your copy delivered to you, sign up to be a Weirdo. Not only will you get each issue of Weird before your friends, but a Weirdo cap and shirt, for the same price as a year’s worth of Weird magazines at the newsstand. Do it now, so you can be the first to know.