Stranded on a Tiny Planet

Merco felt lost in his dismal thoughts when he noticed the leader of these aliens, dressed in a golden yellow, robe, began gesturing to him again. She pointed to a group of about seven aliens behind her and then pointed to him. He tipped his head a bit, not sure what she was indicating. She then reached under her arm, touched her side, and pointed to him. He looked and saw that she was meaning the wounds in his left side which had bloodied his shirt.

He touched the wounds lightly, “Oh. I’m alright. It just stings.”

But she gestured again, seeming to order him to take off his shirt as she pantomimed the action. Merco was a bit unsure about it but lifted his right arm and began to pull off his shirt. The action immediately zapped him with pain and he halted the movement into something much slower.

Maybe hurts more than a sting...

He gingerly pulled his shirt off and placed it behind him. His eyes took in the wounds on his side. It looked like he’d been peppered with a miniature shot gun...quite a few miniature shot guns. He guessed it was probably shrapnel from the bombs they hit him with. His eyes couldn’t see his back, but it felt like the wounds extended from his hip to his neck.

As he observed his wounds he found that he wasn’t the only one doing so, when two little aliens appeared, floating close to his side. Their large eyes scanned his flesh a moment and one was brazen enough to touch him. After examining the injuries, they spoke loudly, causing a flurry of activity to begin. Tools were being procured, buckets of water and stacks of cloth were brought, and pots of some sort of green substance was carried forward. Merco watched, fascinated with their efficiency.

“Merco!” Pixie’s voice called out to him which made him look at her.

She pointed to him and then physically laid down on her side. Again, she pointed to him, eyes expectant. Apparently she wanted him to lay down. He glanced around a second, ensuring no one was in his way. He gradually leaned over on his right side, so his injured left was up. The movement seemed to still the bustling aliens as they watched him fully recline. Pixie appeared near his face and patted his nose in a reassuring manner. He granted her a small smile.

In a few minutes Merco could feel little feet touching his skin, traipsing across his sprawled body. It tickled, but Merco held perfectly still, not wishing to laugh and jar the little aliens who had set upon him. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a couple aliens standing on his hip. They both held tools that resembled pliers. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what they were for. Merco had a distinct feeling this wasn’t going to tickle. He took a deep breath to steady himself but in turn jostled the aliens standing on him as they staggered to maintain balance when he exhaled sharply.

“Sorry.” Merco apologized and focused on remaining still.

It was then that he felt water being poured over his injuries and tiny towels set to cleaning the various wounds. Merco twitched a bit at the tickling sensation but tried his best to hold still. A few more moments passed before he started feeling the aliens get to work removing the shrapnel from his wounds. The strange sensation of tiny tools probing the injuries and removing the pieces of offending metal were a mix of pain and relief at the same time; like digging out a bunch of splinters. The clink of little metal bits being deposited in a pan was heard. There were aliens on his shoulder, along his ribs, and at his hip. It didn’t hurt quite so much on his back or shoulder but the little aliens working on his hip and ribs were certainly making him bite his lip since it was a more tender area.

A particularly deep extraction from there made him flinch and grunt loudly, “Jeez! Are you dissecting me?”

Of course, his exclamation stopped the aliens abruptly. They probably were debating whether it was safe to be doing this to him.

He gentled his voice and exhaled slowly, “Sorry.”

When he’d quieted, the work resumed. More water washed away the blood that was welling up from the extractions. Merco laid on the ground, staring at nothing in particular as he tried to maintain his stillness which grew harder the longer the procedure went. One bold alien slid down the slope of his shoulder and checked his neck. He found eight chunks of shrapnel; Merco knew because he counted them as he yanked out each one. The neck extractions felt the worst so far. He couldn’t restrain the pained tensing of his neck with each pluck. To his credit the medic didn’t shy away even when his flinching neck muscles almost jarred him off.

The whole procedure took a little over an hour. As the extractions finished, Merco could feel something being spread over his wounds. It felt like a salve of some kind as a soothing sense accompanied it. Then he felt the medics’ feet gradually disappear from his side and Pixie made a ‘get up’ motion with her hand. Merco pushed himself up slowly. When he was sat up he looked down at his side which was covered in a green substance. It felt nice whatever it was. Experimentally, he rolled his shoulder and twisted his torso and winced upon feeling a poking sensation somewhere near his ribs. With a testing finger he found the spot and one of the medics flew up to the spot with a tool in hand. A quick probing and a final metal shard was pulled. A sigh of relief left Merco and he twisted once more. He didn’t feel anything else. The alien medics certainly did a good job.

He bowed his head with respect and gestured to his side, “Thank you. I feel much better.”

Though they didn’t understand him, he felt as if they gathered his gratitude. Upon noticing one of the aliens holding a bucket of the green salve he carefully reached over and took it from her. He dipped his finger into the salve and applied a bit to his head wound for good measure before giving back the container. He reached behind him for his shirt, but his hand didn’t feel the familiar fabric. Confused, he turned, and found his shirt was missing. Anu flew up into his view and pointed off toward the settlement. Merco looked and saw his shirt laying out flat on the ground with several dozen aliens seemed to take measurements of it.

“Oh. You-you don’t have to do that.” He protested gently.

But he could tell they weren’t going to be dissuaded. He wasn’t even sure what they would make a new shirt his size out of, but it would take a lot of work and material. Again, that uncomfortable feeling of being a burden on them crawled into his mind. Not that he wasn’t immensely grateful for their efforts, but he didn’t want to become a difficult guest for them.

Merco waited patiently until they waved at him to retrieve his shirt. As he put it back on he felt a wave of fatigue sweep through him. It wasn’t quite the end of the day yet, but he felt like he’d been awake for a long time.

He looked to the leader and his friends who had congregated nearby and made a gesture that indicated he was going to get some sleep. They seemed to comprehend so he stood up and made his way out of the canyon. His pants, socks, underwear, and boots were still wet from his retreat into the lake and the suns were still shining so Merco found an open spot near the canyon edge to rest. He peeled off his boots, dumping the rest of the water out of them. The constant squishing of water in his boots had been annoying and his wet jeans rubbing against his legs had begun to chafe a bit. He removed his socks and laid them out to dry. But he thought better of taking off his pants. He’d just lie in the suns for a nap until he was dried off.

He piled his leather jacket under his head for a pillow and laid back on the warm sandy ground, staring up at the sky. Not blue like Earth; more of a faint yellow color. A sigh escaped him.

“Get used to it Merco. You’ll probably never see a blue sky ever again.”

At length he noticed a distinct bump under his head. Curious he unfolded the leather jacket and searched the pockets to find his wallet hidden inside. He took out the brown leather wallet and opened it. Some cash, credit cards, and then he saw the blue and silver Holo-Pic card tucked near the front. He removed the card almost reverently. A Holo-Pic was a card-like device that stored and projected pictures in the air. It needed charged but luckily for Merco it was a solar charged device. It had been a birthday gift from his family since he was in his delivery ship a lot and printed pictures had fallen into obscurity over the years. Carefully he laid it nearby in the sun so it could charge up. Merco sighed and laid back on his jacket for a nap, although with his mind so full, he wasn’t sure if he would get one.

...

When Merco left to rest, Elder Felreh began to make preparations to head back to Anashee and proclaim its release.

She turned to Anu and Traynar, “You have been instrumental in this meeting. You have my thanks.”

They lowered their plumage with respect, “Thank you Elder.”

“I believe Anashee will now have an ambassadorial position that needs to be occupied.” She mentioned pointedly.

Anu and Traynar glanced at each other. Even though the position they currently held as members of the EFP was a high ranking, being an ambassador was indeed a step up.

Traynar made a motion with his hand, “I believe Anu would be the better choice for such a position...but also, Seraysa.” He gestured to the young female standing nearby.

Seraysa seemed shocked by such a notion.

The Elder looked at her, “She would indeed be the youngest ambassador Anashee has ever had. Perhaps...a joint ambassadorial position?”

Anu looked to Seraysa, “Would you want to?”

A dumbfounded nod bobbed the young female’s head.

Elder Felreh smiled, “Very well. As of this day, Anu and Seraysa will be Anashee’s official joint ambassadors in the matters of our visitor Merco.”

Both females thanked her.

Verin whispered something in his sister’s ear and she spoke up, “Elder Felreh. Can you make sure our parents know where we are...we-we didn’t tell them we went out here.”

“You’re not going back to Anashee?”

Verin spoke up, “Leader Yelon has offered us a place to stay for the night. Tomorrow we’ll. It’ll be ok if you tell them.”

The Elder granted him a knowing smile, “I should hope so.” She looked at Anu and Traynar, “And you?”

“We will return to Anashee for some rest. We’ll return here soon.” Anu explained.

Elder Felreh nodded and moved away, her security detail surrounded her and helped her fly up into the air, back to Anashee.

Anu held Seraysa’s hand a moment, “I’ll be back soon. You’re sure you’ll be alright here?”

The young female nodded and with that Anu and Traynar flew up into the air after the Elder until they disappeared over the canyon wall.

“I’m surprised.” Verin mentioned aloud to his sister.

“Surprised that I’m an ambassador for Merco?”

“Well yeah... that too. But no one seemed to care we were wearing these EFP uniforms.” He said offhandedly.

Seraysa laughed, “I think we’ll still have to return them.”

Verin agreed with a nod and then asked, “So...what does this mean now that you’re an ambassador?”

A bemused shrug was all Seraysa could answer with. She didn’t know either. The only thing she was certain of was that she would be working very closely with Merco from now on.

She remembered earlier the expression Merco had on his face when he was told they didn’t have the things he needed to get to his home, Earth. He’d looked lost...sad. Seraysa couldn’t help but worry for him. She remembered how she’d felt when she’d emerged and her family wasn’t there. She hadn’t considered the idea that Merco himself might have a family unit too.

Verin suddenly spoke up, “You know...I’ve been wondering something.”

“What?”

“You know how we are taught the Ansheetan language through our education feeds when we’re in our chrysalis?”

Seraysa nodded.

“Could we use something like that to teach Merco our language?” Verin conjectured.

A look of bewilderment came over Seraysa, “I-I don’t know. Do you think that’s possible?”

Verin’s brain was postulating, “Well we don’t know his brain structure...it would probably take a different set up. Definitely would need more probes. I’d have to discuss it with my friends. They know more about education feeds than me.”

The idea had promise if it could work. If Merco could be taught their language through an education feed then he could communicate with them much more quickly and way easier. They might even be able to learn his language!

“That would be amazing Verin!” Seraysa’s tone was excited by the prospect.

“Maybe, since you’re an ambassador now, you could appoint me as a science officer?” Verin suggested.

She laughed at her brother, “I don’t know if I have that kind of clout Verin.”

“But if this works, I might!” he said with excitement.

Seraysa smiled and then yawned, “I’m tired Verin. I think I’m going to rest a bit then check on Merco.”

Her brother nodded in agreement, “Me too. Come on. Yelon can show us where we’re sleeping.”

...

Later...

Merco awoke later just as the suns were lower in the sky. He wasn’t sure how long he’d slept, but he was practically dry now. No nightmares thankfully. He felt achy but only in a bruised way. He sat up and rubbed his face. His stomach growled angrily.

“Oh yeah...haven’t eaten since yesterday. That soup was sure good, just wish there was more.” He thought to himself as he patted his shrinking belly, “Best diet I’ve been on in years.”

A blue blinking nearby caught his eye and he remembered the Holo-Pic card he’d let charge. Eagerly he picked up the device and touched the corner to activate it. It lit up and projected several rows of his pictures into the air above the card. A sigh of happiness escaped him.

The first few pictures were of a space port he’d visited last week before all this happened. That fancy bathroom and the strange alien toilets. He smirked at that recent memory. His finger swiped the images, searching through them until he found one he cherished most. It was a picture of him, his now ex-wife and two sons when they were together eating at their favorite restaurant on Earth. The boys were much younger in the picture, with fries sticking out of their mouths like vampire teeth. Merco smiled fondly, remembering when they were a family. It was probably five years after the war when the picture was taken, but those were some of his best years with them.

He swiped again to see the faces of his two grown sons: Martin and Tony. Martin was the youngest at twenty-three. He looked almost identical to Merco when he was that age. He was in the military corps as a pilot; less chance of seeing combat like Merco had been at his age. It was a scary, yet proud moment for Merco when Martin told him he was enlisting. Merco had fought the last war Earth had experienced and peaceful times had reigned. But who knew how long that would last? He prayed Martin would never have to experience what he did.

Tony was his eldest at twenty-seven. Tony was much a gentler temperament than his younger brother. It seemed he was born so mature and yet so full of zest for life. The last time he saw him was at his wedding. He and his new wife were going to have a baby girl in a few months.

He would’ve been a grandpa...

Merco felt his breath shudder and his eyes burn with tears at the thought. She wouldn’t even know him. He’d be just a story and a Holo-Pic; not a living, flesh and blood grandpa who would swing her around playing ‘airplane’ or one who would show up unexpectedly after a long-haul bearing presents from far away space ports. A grandpa who would show up at Christmas and dress up as Santa Claus for her or teach her how to fly a transport ship from the safety of his lap.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a small form floating up over the canyon side and land on the ground next to him.

He wiped his eyes quickly with the back of his arm, “Oh, hello Pixie.”

The tiny alien looked up at him with a look that showed concern.

“Just...(ahem) looking at some pictures...remembering.” He explained, trying to loosen the tightness that clenched painfully at his throat by clearing it.

Pixie floated up off the ground and hovered in front of the image of his sons, staring at it.

It was then Merco realized his little friend was floating, “Pixie. You’re flying! When did you learn to do that?”

She turned to look at him and he made a flying gesture with his hands and pointed to her. She smiled at him and turned around in the air, showing him her ability. Merco returned the smile and held up a finger near her. Like a little bird she landed on his finger and tried to balance before finally sitting down, legs draped over the edge. Merco couldn’t help but chuckle at her. She pointed to the image glowing before them.

Merco sighed and gestured slowly with his other hand, “Those...are my sons. They’re all grown up now back on Earth.” He pointed to each one, “Martin...Tony.”

“Mar-tin. To-ny.” Pixie repeated.

He nodded, staring at the picture. The tears came more readily this time as they filled his lower lids.

“I’ll never see them again.”

Normally, Merco was really good at reining in his emotions, but he just couldn’t after saying what he knew aloud. His breath shuddered with a sob as he buried his face in his gloved hand. His shoulders trembled.

“I’m sorry.” He managed to whisper.

He felt the little presence float off of his finger, land on top of his gloved hand, and then touch his forehead. Pixie said something in her tiny voice again and again. After a few minutes he took a settling breath and slowly lowered his hand. Pixie remained atop it.

“I’m sorry.” he said again, wiping his eyes with the collar of his shirt. “I just...I just wasn’t ready to hear that.”

Pixie may not have understood his words but she seemed to sympathize with his mood as she stared at him with concern and patted his gloved prosthetic. Several more minutes passed by in silence until Merco cleared his throat and turned off the Holo-Pic card, tucking it back in jacket pocket and zipping it for safety. He also mentally tucked away his grief over the situation.

His stomach growled again and Pixie looked at him with a startled look.

He smiled awkwardly and laughed shortly, “Guess I need to get something to eat.”

Merco gently placed Pixie on his shoulder and began to put on his socks and boots. She watched him, holding on tightly to his T-shirt collar. When he was ready, he carefully stood up, wrapping his jacket around his waist. He knew he’d need to go fishing at the lake. Despite earlier events it was still the best option to get a meal. In fact, Merco was thinking living at the lake was probably what he should do anyway since he was going to be on this world for the foreseeable feature.

A voice called out and Merco looked to see the one Pixie called Verin, floating up out of the canyon.

“Sey-tala Verin!” Pixie said in a greeting tone.

Merco listened and tried the word experimentally, “Sey-tala?”

They both looked at him in shock.

Pixie floated off his shoulder into his view smiling and nodding, “Sey-tala Merco!”

"Sey-tala...Pixie.”

She nodded and bobbed in the air. He guessed the word meant hello.

“Sey-tala...Hello...Sey-tala...Hello.” he said.

“Hell-o.” Pixie parroted back.

“Hello Pixie. Hello Verin.” he greeted.

They both seemed excited, trying his word and then Merco trying their word. A first step in learning the language...small...but a step. Merco then pointed back toward the lake and waved his hand to mimic a fish.

“Want to go fishing with me?” he asked them.

After seeing his hand gesture they seemed to get excited, particularly the male Verin. He patted his shoulder invitingly.

“Come on then.”

Pixie landed on his shoulder readily. Verin was still hesitant but gradually he joined her. When they settled, Merco sighed deeply and began walking back to the lake for food.