Malcolm Wrynn awoke face down in a field of grass. Groggy and sore, he slowly rose to a sitting position and noticed a crack in his oxygen helm. The digital display on the inside of the helm showed that his tank was empty, indicating the air he was breathing was not toxic if he was still alive. Clicking the button at the base of his neck, the flexglass helm retracted into the steel ring hanging at his collar. The sky above was a mix of purples and oranges with the sun setting through fluffy clouds, and the field around him was full of tall stalks of grass and wildflowers.
The pilot righted himself and it was not until he stood that he noticed a creature standing before him. Its eyes studied him curiously and it stood about an arm’s length away making no reaction to his motion. It was covered in white fur, but was wearing a brown robe over its round body. Standing about a meter tall, its height was slightly exaggerated by two tiny black horns sticking out of the top of its head. Wide, yellow eyes stared up at him and it finally moved, producing a blunted brown stick which it pointed at the pilot.
On instinct, Wrynn grabbed the laser pistol at his hip and whipped it forward to dissuade the creature from coming closer, but it still made no reaction.
“Ba sil acka farth?” it said.
“What?”
"Ba sil acka farth sa bo?” it repeated with the same inflection.
Unknown language detected. OmnittA Stone translation in progress… Incomplete interpretation possible. The disembodied male voice of his virtual assistant gave a notification in his ear.
“What did you say?” asked the wary man and he heard the device on his ear project a series of foreign sounds to replace the words he spoke.
“What are you doing out here all alone?” said the creature. Its tone was inquisitive and slightly melodic as the device in the pilot’s ear now translated the foreign language into Universal. Wrynn stood dumbly, with no immediate response to what was a seemingly innocuous question.
Suddenly, the creature approached him, its blunt instrument outstretched and Wrynn instinctively pulled back and flipped the safety on his pistol. “Hey, stay back—” his warning was interrupted as the creature grabbed the barrel of the pistol and simultaneously tapped the stick to the back of Wrynn’s off hand.
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“Gift?” said the creature. There was no malice in its action, simply curiosity at the object the pilot was presenting.
“Gift? Not unless you're looking for a trip to the Great Beyond.”
Blinking twice, the creature’s round, yellow eyes seemed somewhat disappointed as it returned to examining the pistol. At the same time it tapped him again lightly with the stick. “Gift,” it said.
Wrynn looked down at the object. The feeling against his skin was the texture of a soft wood and it was very lightweight. It did not appear to be a tool of destruction.
“What? You want to trade?”
The creature tilted its head. “Trade? What is trade?” The word came out in imitated Universal; the OmnittA Stone was unable to translate the word into the creature’s language.
“Never mind,” said Wrynn. He’d have to let the device adjust for a bit. “I’m not giving you my gun.”
“Okay,” said the creature, releasing its grip on the weapon. “Gift.” It tapped his hand once more with the stick.
Wrynn cautiously opened his hand and grabbed hold of the Gift. A little too tightly. The exterior layer cracked like a boiled egg shell and his fingers slipped into the center of warm, spongy fluff. A pleasant, nutty aroma wafted up from the inside and he realized he was holding a loaf of freshly baked bread.
“Did you make this?” asked Wrynn.
“Yes, it is dinner. Please eat.”
Wrynn accepted the bread, but pointed one end back at the creature. “Share,” he said.
The creature happily tore off a piece with its fur-covered hand and popped it into its mouth. Wrynn holstered his pistol and sat down, feeling less wary of the child-like being. He spoke between mouthfuls of the warm, surprisingly delectable bread. “Where are we? What planet is this?”
“We are home.”
“This planet is called Home?”
The creature looked at him strangely. “We call it home so it is home. Do you come from a place that is not home?”
Wrynn gave up on the question, assuming this species was more primitive than others he had encountered based on this creature’s behavior. “What’s your name, then?”
“I am Vessa,” said the creature. The device in Wrynn’s ear translated the name as Baker.
“Vessa. My name is Wrynn. Can you tell me how you found me?”
“I followed a light,” Vessa pointed in a direction over Wrynn’s shoulder. “You came first, so I stopped.”
Wrynn looked over his shoulder and saw the remains of his Knighthawk buried in the grass with some indications of a crash landing. One of the wings had been torn from the body and was lying slightly behind the rest of the vessel. A deep groove was left in the earth from where the ship had slid to a stop. All the windows were shattered and the metal was crumpled in a sorry state. Wrynn put a hand to his mouth, stroking his beard in silent mourning.
“Is there a shipyard on this planet where I could fix her?” he asked Vessa. “Or do you have a way I could get off planet?”
Vessa cocked its head slightly. “No one leaves home. You are the first outsider I have seen, but Chief may know more.”
“Can you take me to this person?”
The creature nodded and jumped up to grab Wrynn’s hand, leading him on stubby legs out of the plain. Wrynn took one final look at his ruined Knighthawk, touched his pistol, and followed.