"StarSign" Excerpt

Author's Note: This piece is an excerpt, taken and adapted from a scene in my ongoing work StarSign. The first few chapters are available on my Vocal account (vocal.media/authors/m-darrow)

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“Do you want some tea? I want tea. Can you drink tea? Do you know what tea is? Tea is good. I’m--I’m gonna make some tea…”

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“This is not tea,” Melody murmured vaguely into her cup fifteen minutes later. “This is just hot water.”

“Mrrow?” Leo glanced up from his toybox, tucked into a corner near the door, then batted a felt mouse in her direction. The massive orange tabby seemed much more charitable with her now that they were no longer staggering through the dark woods.

“Exactly, buddy.”

“You can understand it?”

Melody snorted a bit as she searched her cupboard for an actual tea bag. “Ah, no. Not really. But it’s just the two of us out here, so sometimes he’s the best conversation partner I’ve got.”

“I…see.”

She glanced over to the alien sitting at her kitchen table. The charred and once-ripped spacesuit they wore was again drawn up around their shoulders--as apparently their weird magic sealing spray worked on inorganic material much more quickly than flesh, so at least there were no more tears through it anymore.

They eyed Leo for a few moments longer before returning their attention to…whatever it was that they were doing. Fiddling with the gadget on their wrist, it looked like, though occasionally they would glance at her phone--through which she could hear the robotic translations of their clicks, whistles, and chirps--and make some sort of adjustment. Maybe feeling her eyes on them, they tipped their head up and sideways.

The motion happened far too quickly for it to read as anything even like human.

“May I handle your device?”

“May you--you mean my phone?” She pointed at it, and they nodded. “Uh, sure. I guess. It’s still not getting any service, so it’s not like it’s doing us any good right now.”

The alien made a low series of clicks that her phone didn’t translate as it picked the tiny computer up and turned it over curiously. “It won’t,” they told her through the phone speakers. “The distress signal from my craft will…take several more…hours-minutes to dissipate.” The alien hissed abruptly and gave her phone a look that almost translated as a frown. They pressed one finger to their wrist-gadget, repeated a series of crooning chirps twice, and her phone’s translation corrected, “At least three more hours.”

“Huh.” Melody blindly sipped at her tea. 

Oh. Peppermint. 

That was nice. 

Peppermint…

What the fuck is going on?!

Ah. Seemed it was time for all that freak-out she’d been suppressing to come bubbling to the surface. 

Okay. Okay, just breathe. Breathe through this, this is fine, just breathe… She stared hard at the wall opposite her, hip leaning heavily into the counter as her in-for-three-hold-for-five-out-for-seven breath pattern rippled the surface of her tea. 

So. Aliens were real. One had crashed their spacecraft basically in her backyard. Said alien was now in her house. They were injured--though healing now, thank god--and had apparently wound up that way from an altercation with something attacking them. Which implied… Well, nothing good. Her phone still didn’t work, except as a very odd translation device, and it wouldn’t be serviceable for another three hours. 

I could run, she thought vaguely. They’re still moving kinda stiff. Their side probably hurts, but with all their wild-ass tech, who knows how long it’ll take to heal. I could just take off. It’s about twenty minutes into town, provided the car starts. But…

But she didn’t feel like she needed to run. Despite the insanity of the situation…the alien didn’t feel like a threat. Maybe it had been some sort of instinct that spurred her into helping them, but now that she had a moment to think…she was actually glad that she had. 

“Human.”

“Gah!” She jerked so violently that she nearly spilled her tea, just barely managing to set the cup down as she turned to find the alien on their feet, hovering awkwardly with one hand splayed and braced against the tabletop seemingly to help support them. Their other hand was extended toward her, with what looked like an earpiece of some sort cupped in their palm. They blinked at her, perhaps startled by her reaction, and she found herself blushing.

“I did not mean to unsettle you.”

“No, it’s…fine.” She scrubbed a hand down her face. When she opened her eyes again, they were in the exact same position: one hand outstretched, eyes fixed expectantly on her face. “What, uh, what’s that?”

“For you.” When she just stared at them, the alien cocked their head again and her phone elaborated, “It will help us communicate. Your device allowed me to…adjust my communications system.”

She turned that over in her mind for a few seconds before cautiously reaching out to take the earpiece. “You’re saying…this is a translator?”

They nodded.

Carefully, Melody tucked the device into place, hooking a silicon-esque piece around the outer edge of her ear. “So this is supposed to work better than…whatever you did with my phone?”

The alien nodded again, murmuring in a low, churring rhythm as they once more tapped at the device on their wrist and tilted it toward her phone. The tiny speakers began to translate their answer:

“Yes. Your device worked for emergency purposes but but but--”

Her phone cut out, and suddenly the voice was in her ear, a smooth tenor that flawlessly matched to the rhythm of the alien’s vocalizations. 

“This will work better in the long run, I should think.”

Melody gaped at them. She could suddenly hear them, hear inflection and tone and color in their voice that somehow spoke volumes beyond the words themselves. They were tired, and hurting, and it all came through in the underlying strain in their voice. But there was also real warmth and gratitude to the sound that she wouldn’t have expected simply from looking at their otherworldly face. 

“Thank you,” the alien said quietly, and now that she could understand them without the awkward delay, she suddenly thought she could see some expression on their face: eyes half-lidded, head canted gracefully to one side. “It is quite probable that you saved my life.”

“Wow.” Melody just stared for another moment, unable to form any other words. Then she shook her head briskly and stammered out, “N-No problem. I mean--you’re welcome? But like, I couldn’t just leave you out there, I mean…” A nervous giggle bubbled up in her throat and she had to cover her mouth with one hand to contain it. “I’m sorry,” she managed to gasp out, “I’m sorry, it’s just…this is insane.”

The alien cocked their head the other way and made a vaguely familiar series of high chirps. This time, instead of a robotic, repetitive reading from her phone, she could hear their laughter ripple lightly into her ear.

“I can’t blame you for being overwhelmed. I was briefed that your planet has begun exploring the idea of space travel, but you have had no contact with any life from beyond your own waters and soil.”

“Yeah, that, uh, that’s certainly true,” Melody huffed, still struggling to contain giggles. Or possibly sobs. It was really up in the air at this point. “Well, I--I guess a proper introduction is in order? Also, like, please sit down. I don’t know how your scifi healing-spray works but I imagine your side must at least still be sore.”

The alien nodded again, sinking carefully back down into the chair. “Quite sore, actually, yes. Thank you.” They placed both hands on the table, looking her up and down for a moment before adding in a slightly softer voice, “I am of the--”

They made a noise that even the device in her ear couldn’t translate. She winced, shaking her head at the pop of feedback, and the alien quickly seemed to realize what had happened. 

“Ah, of course. Forgive me--that translator is worlds ahead of the emergency connection I created with your telephonic device, but there will be some concepts in my language that simply have no equivalent in yours. Apparently, my species’ name is one of them.”

“Can you…say it again?” Melody asked cautiously. “It’s just, I was mostly getting like an error sound, and…”

“Of course. One moment, let me…” The alien tapped at their wrist computer--it had to be some sort of computer, right?--again and extended their arm briefly in her direction. “There. That should prevent the translation software from troubleshooting certain words. I’ll try to keep it as updated as I can, to prevent that from happening.”

“Thanks.” Melody tapped the earpiece lightly, as if that would do anything, then asked with a slight chuckle, “Could you, ah, run that by me one more time?”

“Of course. I am a--” Again, her translator couldn’t decipher the sound they made into any English equivalent, but without the sharp pop of feedback in her ear, she could hear the clicking chirp they gave.

“Oh god, I don’t know if I’m even physically equipped to say that,” she muttered. It sounded sort of like cray-tash, but with a trill at the end that she just didn’t think she could do. “Carra--Crray-tash?”

The alien laughed again, though she didn’t get the sense it was mean-spirited; then they winced and pressed one hand over their bandaged side.  “That was…surprisingly close, for someone with only one set of vocal cords.”

Well, that was certainly interesting to know. 

“Alright, lemme try again… Kre’taash?” She put a little more emphasis on the first syllable and let her voice warble out on the “ahh” sound.”

The alien nodded in a manner that she hoped was approving. “It will certainly suffice. Yes, I am of a species known as the Kre’taash. My name is--” Again, the translator failed to find an equivalent. No surprise there. But their name seemed to be quite a bit longer than their species’. Long enough that she could feel the rhythm of it for several seconds before her earpiece chimed in again: “But I don’t think that will be a particularly easy moniker for you to use.”

“I don’t suppose you have an Earth name?” she chuckled awkwardly.

They shook their head. “Not as yet, no.” They paused, then continued slowly, “Perhaps…you have already aided me well beyond anything I could expect--but perhaps you might help me choose one?”

Huh.

Still moving slowly, as though she was half-convinced one wrong step might send her sliding sideways out of the universe, Melody took the chair opposite them and set her tea on the table beside their medical kit. 

“Yeah. I think I could do that.”