A gentle story, about compassionate adults and children, and the unfortunate aliens they cared for. A story to make you think better of humanity, for if we find such aliens and care for them, who knows what rewards may come our way?
Discovery Day
Andi peered into the canning cellar. A high basement window spilled faint light over rows and rows of dusty preserve jars. She and Jimmy had tired of hunting crawdads in the creek, and needed another distraction from the blistering August afternoon. The cellar held the promise of escape from the heat and, best of all, it was forbidden. Andi knew Grandma Tibbs would be too busy planting in the vegetable garden to notice.
She listened for Jimmy’s stifled giggles as they played hide and seek in the half-dark — straining to see each other through the murky brine in the pickle jars. Andi held her breath and tip-toed down an aisle. She saw the wave of Jimmy’s hair through a jar on the shelf beside her. Her little brother always gave himself away. “Found you!”
“Nuh-uh!” Jimmy poked his head out from three rows behind her. She jumped and spun to look at the jar where something very much not Jimmy was moving.
“Jimmy, did you see that?!”
“Hole – lee – crap!”
They ran to the base of the stairs and clung to each other. The thing in the jar moved again and they scrambled up the steps, shoving and stumbling out the cellar door.
Debriefing Session One
“Captain Torbert, please tell us more about the Earthlings who cared for you during your confinement. We are surprised that such a primitive species would show concern for beings so different from themselves.”
“I was fortunate their neural pathways were capable of mind-to-mind communication. Once I made contact, I found them to be compassionate, caring creatures.”
“Are all of them like that?”
“The traits seem to vary from individual to individual, but they exist at some level in all of them, yes.”
“Please tell us more about . . . children.”
“Of course. They were quite a revelation. The first time I officially met the Tibbs children, my crew and I had been in the canning cellar for thirty Earth years. The sound of them approaching our containers filled me with an unexpected thrill. All seventy-three voices of my fellow travelers lay in silent suspension. I had only Martha Tibbs’ mind for company since her husband Joseph’s death, twelve Earth years prior. The prospect of meeting someone new excited me beyond measure.
“The children were lively and curious. I’d been aware of their existence since they came to live on their grandmother’s farm. Martha requested that I not reach out to their minds, as they had suffered a great loss and needed to process their parents’ deaths before learning of our presence. I honored her wishes and did not seek contact, but from time to time, emotions surged from them and washed across me. Their feelings were like those of Joseph and Martha, but bigger and untamed.
“This stage of human life fascinated me. Since we emerge fully mature from our hosts, the existence of a helpless creature, slowly acquiring life experiences and the relative brevity of that life, astounded me. I quivered with anticipation on the day I realized they would defy Martha and come into the cellar — near enough to touch.
“They made cheerful noises and played a game — I believe they called it “hide and seek.” The younger one concealing himself among the shelves of preserved foods and his sister trying to find him. The intensity of my loneliness made me careless. I turned in my jar to watch Andi try not to locate her brother too soon. He was fidgety and gave himself away easily. But instead of finding Jimmy, she saw me.
“They ran to each other and clung together, then screamed and ran up the stairs to their living quarters. I had terrified them. It occurred to me that Martha was right to keep us hidden.
“The clamor of the children and my own thoughts alerted Martha that I had been discovered. I felt her wrestling with whether it was time to tell them the truth or continue to keep our secret. I reached into her mind and suggested, ‘Perhaps it would be easier for everyone, if they knew.’
“She agreed.”
The Alien
Andi and Jimmy ran past Grandma Tibbs, who was waiting for them at the top of the stairs. As soon as they saw her, they froze, caught between guilt and fear. Andi hunched her shoulders and Jimmy looked at the ground.
Grandma Tibbs gathered her thoughts for a moment. The children stood silently, as if awaiting their sentence. Finally, she tapped the back of the nearest chair. “All right, children, sit yourselves.”
Jimmy and Andi slid into chairs, avoiding eye contact with their grandmother.
Jimmy hugged his knees into his chest, then blurted out, “Andi told me to go down there. I said it was against the rules, but she made me.”
Andi gripped the seat of her chair with both hands and stomped her foot. “Did not! You wanted to go down there too!”
“Hush now, both of you. Nobody is in trouble. I knew you’d go down there eventually. I figured when you were big enough to ignore baby rules, you’d be old enough to understand my secret.”
The children snapped to attention at the word “secret.”
“Would you like to hear it?”
Jimmy and Andi talked over each other, “Yes, Grandma! Please, Grandma! You bet, Grandma.”
“Uh-huh, I thought so.” Grandma Tibbs poured two tall glasses of lemonade and set them in front of the wide-eyed children, who leaned in to listen.
“All right, settle in.
“It was about thirty years ago. Grandpa Tibbs was still alive, and your daddy had married your momma and moved off to Chicago. You two were just a glimmer in your daddy’s eye.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, Jimmy, it’s a silly way of saying you weren’t born yet.
“I was in the kitchen washing up after breakfast, when I heard the loudest boom — I swear I thought somebody finally dropped a nuke on us and we were done for. But Joseph, your grandpa, come flying over the hill in his pickup truck like a house-a-fire yellin’, “Get in, Martha — you’re never gonna believe this!” So, I hopped in the truck and we drove way out to the stony field by the Johnson’s fence . . .”
“The part down by the creek?”
“That’s the place, Jimmy.
“Well, there was a great big hole in the ground with something that looked like a broken sled sticking half-out of it . . .”
“Like the one you gave Jimmy for Christmas?”
“That’s right, Andi, but two of them put together like a big silver clam. This thing was all busted to hell and glowing hot. We thought maybe it was part of a satellite or something.”
“Space junk. That stuff falls down all the time.” Andi spoke like a real authority. Jimmy rolled his eyes.
“Yes, we thought it was space junk, too. Joseph had an old shovel in the truck, so he sorta poked at it — moving the parts around to see if there was any writing, you know, see whose junk it was.”
“What’d it say?”
“Well, Jimmy, we didn’t find any writing, but suddenly we heard a voice, clear as day, saying, ‘Please don’t hurt us!’
“Except it wasn’t like a regular voice. It was just inside our heads. Joseph and I were pretty scared and we thought to run, but that voice came again and said, ‘Can you help us?’”
“Aliens! Get to the part about the aliens!”
“I was just about to. You are the most impatient thing, Jimmy Tibbs. Maybe I should wait until you’re more grown-up to tell you about this. Yep, nine and twelve might just be too young.”
“No, Grandma, you can’t stop there!”
“All right, Andi, I’ll keep going, but you tell your little brother to mind his manners or this will all have to remain a mystery.”
Andi poked her brother, who scowled at her, but leaned on the table and mimed zipping his lips shut.
“That’s better. Where was I? Oh, yes,” she nodded at Jimmy, “The aliens.”
Jimmy bounced in his chair, but kept quiet.
“Joseph and I lifted the metal, but we were more careful this time. We found a little creature no bigger than your hand. He was in kind-of a glass tube with some clear liquid. Cutest thing you ever saw. He was soft, like one of them sea cucumbers at the aquarium we went to in Chicago, ‘member that? He had one black eye, a tiny mouth, and six arms with sucker thingies at the ends. He explained that there were about a hundred of them, all sleeping in glass tubes just like him and sure enough there they were, dozens of them — except some of them were broken. It was just so sad.”
Grandma Tibbs watched the children’s faces turn somber. They understood about death. “We worked with Torbert, the one who was awake, to figure a way to keep the ones who survived the crash alive. Even the tubes that weren’t totally broken were damaged. Well — turns out, my canning jars were just the right size for their little bodies, and there was enough of the liquid they came in left over to keep them cozy for a while. Over time, Torbert helped us figure out how to mix up some more fluid with food for ‘em and such.”
“What happened to the ones who didn’t survive the crash?”
“That’s a good question, Andi. We buried the others in the stony field next to the ship and Torbert showed us how to write their names in Traxian. That’s the language on Traxix.”
Andi tried out the new word, “Traxkix. Traskicks, Tracksicks. That’s hard to say.”
Grandma Tibbs laughed. “It sure is hard to say. Your grandpa buried the rest of the ship, so there wouldn’t be any questions. He took a hunk of rock back to the barn and burnt it up real good with a blow-torch, then put it in the hole where the ship had been. That way, if anyone came looking, they’d think it was just a little piece of meteor.”
“Wow-wee, that was smart.”
“Well, I’m glad you think it was smart, Jimmy. I came up with that one myself.” She picked up the pitcher and topped off the children’s glasses. “Have some more lemonade.”
“Did Mommy and Daddy know?”
“No, Andi. You and your brother are the only people I’ve ever told. Your mother and father were city people. They had a whole life in Chicago. I didn’t tell them because I didn’t want them to think they had to come out here and take over. See, the Traxians take some tending to. Sometimes, we have to add a little fluid to the jars, and sometimes . . . well, sometimes, they expire.”
“What does expire mean?”
“That means they die, Andi. Thirty years is a long time. We don’t have any kind of doctors or medicine that would work for Traxians, so when they die, we take them to the stony field and bury them with the rest of their crew. Torbert says any rescue ship will recognize the writing on the stones and bring them home.”
“When’s the rescue ship gonna come?”
“We don’t know when they’ll come, Jimmy. Maybe never. But Torbert has become a good friend to me, and I promised him I would keep his crew safe and ready for transport as long as I could. And that’s the real reason I wanted to tell you this story.
“I know you and Andi love this place, and I was hoping you two could take over when I can’t do it anymore.”
“Oh no, Grandma, are you sick?”
“Don’t worry, Jimmy, I’m not going anywhere for a while! But just like the aliens, nobody lives forever. Someday, when I do die, I would like to give the farm to you and Andi.”
The children looked at each other, completely still for the first time since she’d started her story.
“Does that mean the farm would be all ours?”
“Yes, Andi, the farm would belong to you and Jimmy, and so would the responsibility of caring for Torbert and his friends. So. Jimmy? Andi? What do you think?”
The children rushed over to Grandma Tibbs and threw their arms around her. Andi kissed her cheek and said, “It’s the most wonderful present anybody ever gave anyone, ever.”
“But don’t die soon, Grandma, we love you.” Jimmy pressed his face into her chest.
Grandma Tibbs hugged him tight. “I’m not planning on turning over the keys just yet. So, are you two ready to meet Torbert?”
The children shouted over each other again, “Yes. Oh, yes, Grandma. I can’t wait. A real alien!”
Grandma Tibbs held up a hand.
“Wait here while I go downstairs and get him. He’s been looking forward to meeting you. for a long time.”
Grandma Tibbs disappeared into the basement. Andi and Jimmy twisted in their chairs, straining to hear what she was doing down there.
She emerged from the cellar and set a canning jar on the kitchen table. Inside, a worm-like creature unfurled three arms on each side into a broad stretch. A single black eye looked at them. “This is Torbert.”
Debriefing Session Two
“I searched their minds to find a proper, friendly greeting. A wiggling about of arms seemed customary, although we possess two more appendages than the Earthlings. I held myself steady inside the glass receptacle with four limbs, and wiggled two at Andi and Jimmy. They wiggled their arms back. I sensed more confusion than alarm, so decided to risk mind-to-mind contact and said, ‘Jimmy is really bad at hide-and-seek, isn’t he?’
“Andi seemed surprised and amused at my observation and said, ‘He sure is!’
“Jimmy pretended to be offended, but joined his sister in laughing at the joke.
“I could feel Martha’s apprehension drain, and for the first time in years, sensed —happiness.”
“Humor and joy. We so rarely encounter those qualities in our travels.”
“Yes. As I said, their outer forms differ greatly, but they are like us in many other ways.”
Inheritance
Sixteen years after Andi and Jimmy agreed to care for Torbert and his crew, they wandered reverently though the stony field at the far edge of the farm. They searched for an unmarked boulder near the other Traxians to lay another crew member to rest. Andi touched the stones that served as grave markers for Grandma and Grandpa Tibbs. It was her grandmother’s wish to be buried with Grandpa and the Traxians when she died.
Andi carried the jar with the dead Traxian and Jimmy had the shovel. He dug a hole and Torbert guided Andi on how to scribe the alien’s name into the rock, “Trangea.”
“Was she a good friend?” Andi asked.
“We had traveled together for a very long time. She loved watching stars implode and had a fondness for the flora of different planets, especially colorful adaptations.”
Andi smiled. “You mean flowers? Oh! Trangea liked flowers. We have a tradition on Earth of bringing flowers to people’s graves as a remembrance. Like sharing a gift with those who have passed.” She handed Torbert’s jar to Jimmy and told Torbert, “Wait here.”
“I’m not sure where you think I might go,” Torbert joked.
Jimmy cradled Torbert’s jar in one hand and patted the earth over Trangea’s jar with the other. “Here comes Andi.” He turned the jar so Torbert could see the bouquet of wildflowers in her hand.
“For Trangea,” she said, and laid them on top of the fresh mound of dirt. “I wish I could have met you. Rest in peace.”
Debriefing Session Three
“We are amazed by your descriptions of the Earth dweller’s kindness. It is interesting that they would honor a stranger in this way. We have never encountered another species which accepted us into their society.”
“They also demonstrated great resourcefulness and creativity in adapting their technology to aid in our survival.
“Throughout my stay, I relied on the Earthlings for our needs in life and what they would call death.
“Martha’s airtight containers housed us well enough. Over time, the nutrients in our suspension fluid required replenishment. Her understanding of meal preparation allowed Martha to devise a reasonable supplement for us. It was not perfect, however.
“Some crew members failed to absorb enough nourishment. I instructed Martha to remove the fluid from their containers, allowing them to desiccate and better preserve the genetic material. Then Joseph buried them in the field, and I helped Martha to inscribe an appropriate identification symbol for each Traxian, to aid in retrieval and renewal.”
“Did you explain the nature of our regeneration process to them at that time?”
“Not then, no.”
“Why not?”
“I thought it best to allow them to treat our desiccated crew as they did their own dead — at least until we could test my theory.”
“But you did mention it to one of the Earthlings prior to our arrival.”
“Yes, certain events caused me to reconsider sharing the information. That is why you will have found Martha and Joseph Tibbs’ bodies among the other Traxians. I revealed our nature to Joseph, and suggested they implant themselves among our crew members after their own deaths. I made no promises.”
The Gift
“Torbert, we need to have a talk.”
Joseph was topping off the suspension fluid in the canning jars. He set Torbert’s jar on a shelf at eye level so they could see each other better in the dim light of the canning cellar.
“You seem worried, Joseph. How can I help?”
Torbert swished his soft body around in the jar, running his limbs through the refreshed liquid before bracing himself against the glass to face the Earthling. Though they could speak mind-to-mind, Joseph always seemed to be more comfortable with a face-to-face conversation.
“Torbert, there’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll come right out.” Joseph wiped the salty fluid from his hands on his overalls, pushed his shoulders back, and jutted his jaw forward, the way he did when he had something important to say. “I’m dying. Prostate cancer. I’ve got about six months.”
He lowered himself onto a crate by Torbert, and they sat in silence in the cool of the cellar. The only movement was the dust filtering through the tiny slice of light from a high basement window.
Torbert had watched the decay of the Earthlings who rescued him and his crew from the crash site twenty Earth-years ago. It was a distressing process. Traxians’ bodies spawned fully formed from their hosts and could regenerate any damaged parts. Soon, his friend would cease to be — a fate unknown on his world. Traxians had harnessed the technology to boost their natural regenerative properties indefinitely, even reviving those who died. By removing the barrier of mortality, they had expanded their ability to explore the outer reaches of space and deepened their understanding of existence.
“Martha is going to be all alone here after I’m gone. She’s going to need you more than ever.”
Despite Joseph’s attempt at stoicism, Torbert felt the pain and fear in his mind; for himself, and those he’d leave behind.
He’d sensed those feelings before, on lonely days when he had reached out beyond the canning cellar to explore other Earthlings’ minds. In this moment with Joseph, he finally understood how their finite existence drove them as a species — drove them to achieve as much as they could in their short lives. But it limited them, too — causing them to fight for and cling to as much as they could before they died. Perhaps I can do something to help them.
Joseph was a proud man, and Torbert knew not to push too hard. He needed to introduce the idea gently and let Joseph turn it around in his mind. He’d learned that Earthlings needed to feel like they were in control of their decisions.
“You know I will always be a friend to Martha, as you’ve been to me.” Torbert saw Joseph turn his face away to hide his emotions. “But I hope you don’t expect me to help around the house.”
Joseph’s shoulders shook with laughter. He grinned and tapped Torbert’s jar with two fingers.
“Well, I was kinda hoping you’d milk the cows, at least.”
A burst of joy passed between them.
Torbert felt it was time to share his plan.
“Joseph, I will do all I can for Martha, but I need you to do something for me as well.” Joseph was always most amenable when he had a task to perform. “I need you to dig two graves.”
“Oh, no! Have we lost more of them?” Joseph stood and peered with concern into the shelves of canning jars holding the seventy-two surviving crewmates from the crash site, all slumbering peacefully.
From time-to-time, Torbert would alert him that one of them had died, and Joseph would dig a grave and place a marker for them in the stony field by the crash site, so their bodies could be retrieved in the event of a rescue. It was hard for Joseph to tell the difference between a sleeping or dead Traxian, so he relied on Torbert to let him know.
“I suppose it’ll be hard for Martha to dig graves once I’m gone,” Joseph said. “It’s a good idea to prepare a few extra, just in case.”
It was so like Joseph to think of others, even through his own pain, but Torbert needed him to grasp his purpose. “Yes, Joseph, it will be helpful for you to prepare graves in advance, but not just for us. I want you to dig graves for you and Martha as well.”
Joseph furrowed his brow, set his hands on his hips and shook his head. “No, Torbert, that’s not how we do it here. We have a gravesite all picked out, me and Martha — near our families. It’s tradition.”
Torbert felt a door shut in Joseph’s mind. He must help him see the gift he was trying to give. He couldn’t make a choice if he didn’t understand what he was choosing.
Joseph spoke simply and directly: “I’ll dig extra graves for you and your kind, but not for me and Martha. That’s — well, that’s just wrong.” Joseph picked up Torbert’s jar and started to place it back on the shelf with the others.
With Joseph’s hand touching the glass of his jar, Torbert risked establishing direct contact through the fluid, through the glass, into Joseph’s very cells. He flooded Joseph with images of his people, joyful, transcendent, immortal — forever connected through space and time. “I want this for you and Martha, Joseph. For you and your people. Join us.”
Joseph never spoke of what had passed between them. But that afternoon, he went out to the stony field and added two more graves to the others, with names inscribed in both English and Traxian.
Rescue
Andi had trouble focusing. Torbert chattered non-stop in her head for two days straight. In the ten years since she and Jimmy became keepers of the jars, Jimmy had been working on ways to pack and transport the Traxians quickly in case of a rescue, but mainly to keep Torbert’s spirits up. Andi and Jimmy had lost hope it would ever happen.
When Torbert started to hear his people approaching at the edge of the galaxy, Andi was happy he would finally be rescued, but had trouble imagining life without him. She had grown as accustomed to hearing his thoughts as their own.
Dark clouds dropped buckets of rain over the whole town. Torbert told them it was the signal to start moving the jars. Jimmy drove carefully down the dirt road to the extraction site with 70 Traxians in the bed of his Chevy pickup. Andi and Jimmy could feel the storm gathering intensity. Torbert had warned them the rescue ship would be hiding in the storm cell to avoid detection. He hoped the impending tornado would send neighbors to their shelters, keeping them clear of the extraction site.
Andi and Jimmy carefully lifted padded crates from the truck bed and set them on the muddy ground among the grave markers. The wind whipped their faces, mixing rain with their tears. Together, they held the jar containing Torbert one last time. A knot rose in Andi’s throat.
Torbert’s voice rang clear in their minds, “You’d better hurry to the storm shelter before extraction. You wouldn’t want to end up on Traxix. The weather is terrible this time of year.” As usual, he’d made them smile.
They set Torbert’s jar in the crate with the others, but there was no time to get to the shelter. Andi and Jimmy ran to the drainage ditch beside the road as the storm moved over them. Lightning crackled, then the fattest tornado they’d ever seen spun down from the clouds. They fought to keep their heads up in the wind, watching boulder after boulder ascend into the clouds, then the jars flew away like fairy lanterns.
After the storm cleared, Jimmy and Andi walked to the field they had tended for so long. Every marker stone was gone. Andi felt a deep emptiness. She clung to Jimmy, as she had at the bottom of the stairs, all those years ago.
“They’re finally going home, Sis.”
Debriefing Session Four
“After sixty-eight Earth years, I was losing hope of ever being rescued. But then, I began to hear you — faintly at first, but growing stronger as you neared Earth. I have missed the sound of your voices in my mind, my friends.”
“And we yours. We regret the delay in reaching you, but it seems your lengthy stay here has created a deeper connection to the inhabitants of Earth than any other planet we have studied.”
“Yes, it is the first time I have ever formed a kinship with another species. Although our technology is far superior, I’ve found many admirable qualities in Earthlings, especially the advanced traits of humor and loving companionship. In my opinion, their development as a species is hindered more by their finite lifespans than technological advancement. Fear is their greatest limitation. I believe, with our infinite regenerative properties, they would reach their full potential, as we have.”
“We agree to attempt your experiment in regenerating your companions.”
“I am pleased. If we are successful, it may provide a valuable bridge of friendship and understanding between our planets.”
Deliverance
Andi looked at the empty ground behind Jimmy, where Grandma and Grandpa Tibbs’ grave-stones should have been. “Jimmy – look!”
Jimmy looked up at the sky. “They must have taken Grandma and Grandpa by mistake.”
“No mistake.” The alien ship was out of view, but they could still hear Torbert in their minds. “I discussed this possibility with your grandparents before they died.”
Suddenly, they could hear Grandma Tibbs, too. “Torbert wasn’t sure it would work on non-Traxians, but here we are! Joseph always promised to take me on a trip.”
“I think I made pretty good on that one, dontcha think? Hello, kids.” They’d never met their grandfather, but recognized him instantly. “Turns out Traxians never die. They thought we humans were pretty neat, and invited us to tag along.”
Grandma Tibbs chimed in, “I think Torbert just missed us, didn’t you, you old softie?”
Andi and Jimmy stared, open mouthed, at the sky. They heard Torbert again. “It’s true, I think of you all as friends. I couldn’t leave without at least trying to show you what life was like for me. . .for us. . .if you want it.”
Jimmy took Andi’s hands in hers. “What do you think, sis?”
Andi looked across the field at their house, the neighbors’ farms stretched out for miles, and the tiny town beyond. She wondered if she could leave her whole life behind. Then, she heard it. “Jimmy, do you hear. . .”
“Singing? Yeah, like a million voices.”
“Yes,” said Torbert, “Traxians sing when they’re happy.”
The song was more than music, it felt warm, like sunshine in the summer and sweet like flowers in the spring. It was a song of love.
“Hold on.” Andi let go of Jimmy’s hands. She walked a few feet, gathering stems of purple prairie clover and cornflower. She showed the bouquet to Jimmy. “I wanted to bring something for Trangea.”
Jimmy looked to the sky and said, “Looks like we’re ready.”
Clouds gathered. The wind whipped their cheeks. They held each other, as they had the day they met their first Traxian, and their minds joined the song.
END
