“I capt pics and vid,” Qin’s voice in her ear as the pair exited the crowd of onlookers. “That was history right there.”
“Thanks. Though I suspect Tom has already performed the official first contact. If you’re able to maintain link with the EV, and they’re in range, please check in and inform them of our situation.”
From the crest of a well-trodden dune, Skinny motioned them to follow her inland.
LIVETRANS: [impatience] Come now!
2.4
Dowfwoss Amoss led Tom and Angela into the farmers’ domicile—a dugout section of ground, like a basement. Above, a roof sloped a dozen or so degrees, fashioned of large, overlapping cones with saucer-sized holes in each. At first glance, Tom thought the lampshadesque shells belonged to some ocean mollusk the Threck consumed. Upon closer inspection, they were Threck shells or, perhaps more accurately, their skulls.
Tom and Minnie had spent weeks mapping Threck evolution. While the team had devoted relatively little time to Epsy oceanography, it had been necessary to shed light on the planet’s most intelligent lifeforms. Threck, as it turned out, were closely related to most of the dominant ocean species, including their domesticated work animals. From the immense afvrik they used for net fishing and sea travel, to the horse-sized minnit, they had all branched off from a single, still-present species, the starclam (named by Tom, with great pride). All of their skulls bore this same basic design.
Minnie had imagery of Country Threck domiciles, including internal layout, but as far as Tom knew, she’d never identified the building material as the remains of their dead.
Stepping carefully down the wide stairs, Tom closed his bio eye while it adjusted to the darkness. His fone automatically adapted and he observed the new surroundings.
“Out, out with you!” the Threck shouted and waved away the scurrying farmers and their young, like shooing vermin.
Ten or more startled occupants brushed past Tom and Angela on the stairs, forced out into the heat.
One of the farmers protested the rush, if not the eviction. “Need garb. You wait.”
“Hurry then!” one of the Threck barked.
ANGELA: Is it just me or are these guys major holes?
TOM: They sure don’t seem to think much of the Country Threck. Classism, maybe racism? Might be multiple ethnicities we don’t know about.
ANGELA: Disliking our supposed hosts already.
Once the domicile’s presumptive owners were gone, the five City Threck appeared somewhat more relaxed. They spent the next few minutes rooting through containers while Tom recorded vid and snapped pics.
“Disgusting,” Amoss said as she examined the muddy floor. She turned to Tom and Angela. “Apologies for the unsuitable meeting place.”
Another Threck now spoke to Tom for the first time. “Do your people excrete within your shelters?”
Tom wasn’t sure how to answer.
Technically, yes?
Amoss, fortunately, raised an arm and laughed.
“No answer, no answer. This is not how we wish to begin our splendid exchange of feeling and ideas. If you are able to forgive the unforgivable odors, perhaps Syons People would enjoy bathing with us?” She gestured toward another carved stairway that led to a recessed loft area.
The other Threck began shedding their cloaks, hanging them over one of the roof support beams, then climbed the stairs in turn. Despite a thorough familiarity with their anatomy, Tom was both fascinated and disturbed by the nude Threck. Only after seeing the way their bodies moved up the steps, legs bending and twisting with seemingly unnatural rotations, did reality smack Tom square in the forehead.
This was an alien house.
He was conversing with alien beings on an alien planet and the aliens wanted to bathe with him and to know if his people crapped in their homes. What would he say? How to behave without giving the Threck a bad impression of humankind? The stakes of this encounter were far too high. Wasn’t there some clever way he could get out of this? An indefinite deferral? Just run?
If only.
Amoss stood before him, awaiting an answer.
ANGELA: Are we supposed to follow them up there? I don’t know if salt-water and the suits would play nice together.
Right, salt-water, Tom thought.
The Threck had built aqueducts in both directions: fresh-water from the mountains to feed the crops, and salt-water from the ocean to the floodplains for drinking and bathing. The farmers’ roofs extended over the salt-water channel, providing an ever-flowing in-house bath.
“It is clean and warm,” Amoss said. “Constant current. All feces from first farms diluted to nothing.”
Ah, Tom thought. So you’re supposed to crap in the drinking water. Not on the floor, which is gross.
ANGELA: What are we doing? Say something to her!
Tom quickly composed his response to Amoss. “We would be honored to bathe with you.”
And then sent an M to Angela:
TOM: We’re taking a bath. Strip.
Tom removed his helmet and began opening the suit. Amoss laughed heartily and removed her cloak, tossing it over the beam with the others, but all the while watching Tom and Angela disrobe.
ANGELA: You’re lucky I’m an exhibitionist. If Zees were here she’d be filing a harassment suit against you and the entire Threck population.
As Tom set his suit, boots, and helmet on the entrance stairs, away from the mud, he realized they were giving up their MWs, too. The Threck didn’t have any weapons in the water, but they didn’t need any to be a threat.
Angela handed her things to Tom and he stole a quick look at her bare body. She wore a dubious expression that may have been due to the peculiar situation, unexpected skinny dipping, or the pungent scent. Powerfully pungent. Tom was doing his best to conceal his gag heaves.
“It’s going to be fine,” he whispered and gagged. “Just a quick bath among new friends.”
Angela appeared to be handling the aroma commendably. “If I feel anybody trying to play footsie up there, I’m out.”
Tom glanced back and saw Amoss with an arm held out. “Come now, come now.”
And then it suddenly occurred to Tom that he’d made a huge mistake. Without the suit, he had no PA system to relay the translations of his input. He was completely on his own to try and speak the complex Threck consonants—sounds best uttered by compressed whipped cream cans and Donald Duck. Perhaps he wouldn’t need to speak in the water. Maybe they’d all just relax and enjoy each other’s naked company.
“Is that a male reproductive organ?” one of the Threck in the water asked as Tom arched a leg over the craggy rock wall and slipped into the warm salt water.
It was surprisingly deep. Tom found himself touching bottom with the surface at his shoulders. The current was slow but strong. He had to cling to the porous basalt to keep from drifting. At her height, Angela wouldn’t be able to stand at all.
Tom turned to her. “It’s very deep. You need to hold on.”
Angela scowled at him as she slid in, scratching her backside against the rock and grimacing with pain. Tom caught her and curled a hand around her waist. The Threck were saying things, but without looking at them, Tom’s Livetrans only captured the vocalizations.
“They grow hairs.”