The Fetchers

I.

“There are so many of them!”

 “Not for long,” laughed Sprice, turning his ray-pen up to five. Each time he pointed it at a human, the body would sparkle for a moment and then it would be gone. “They’re in the ether now.”

 “Hey! Slow down, new guy. We hadn't searched those yet. Start on the pile over there.”

Sprice grumbled but headed further away. Anthull watched him walk to the pile of naked humans outside the ruins of a dwelling place. He knew that if she had been anyone else, he would have told him to shut up and zapped to his heart’s content.

 But he wasn’t someone else.

Humanicana was big business. Even his own family were in on it. His brothers had taken to wearing ties around their necks and eating with spoons. Sometimes, it amused Anthull. Sometimes it frustrated him. As an Earth historian and archaeologist, he recognised that much of the history was gone. Earthers might wrap ties around their necks but they didn’t know how to do the knots.

 He continued her searching before these bodies, too, would be cast up into the ether. One body appeared to be young. He judged by the quality of the skin and the bright yellow colour of the hair. He carefully removed the human’s garb and identified that he was male. He wondered what his name was. In his pocket, he found a few round pieces of metal. A few were brown but most were shiny silver. There was also one of the human’s telecommunication devices. He stored it for investigation later. Right now, he wanted to see the pieces of metal. They had markings on them. Some sort of written communication. He had been studying forgotten languages for a long time but struggled to tell them apart. In the centre was a human head facing off to the side. A leader, no doubt. Se was young and pretty, and wore fine jewellery.

He watched Sprice pull green pieces of paper out of a human's pocket. He threw them on the ground.

“What do you think these are for?” he shouted, pointing to the inside of a vehicle.

“There are five of them. Do you see.”

“Yes, I see that, sir. I said what are they for?”

“They mirror eachother. You see how they come from opposite sides? It’s so beautiful.”

 Sprice pulled at the, now rusty, piece of metal. The black strip came away but, when he let go, it wound back. “Cool, man!”

 “They’re on the seats. So, there is one for each person.”

Anthull struggled to sit down. There wasn’t much space for him and his haz-mat suit. He poked his arm through the passenger seat belt, trying to discern what it did.

 “Look, Sprice! It goes across! Some sort of clothing, do you think?”

 “Maybe,” he replied. “It wouldn’t cover much though. Perhaps it’s ceremonial. This vehicle must have belonged to one of the presidentials. It must mark someone of great significance.”

 He took a ray-pen from his pocket and cut it out.

 “Be careful,” shouted Anthull.

 “I am. Calm down.”

 “Hurry up, you two! We only have fifteen more minutes of radiational defence.”

II.

The fetchers climbed aboard the space ship. They wore their seatbelts across their chests, believing they looked very important.

 “What on Earth are those things?” Alda asked.

Anthull frowned.

 “These belts signify an earthling of great significance.”

 “We got three more,” said Sprice. “You want one, Alda?”

 “I’ll pass,” she replied. “Hurry up and buckle in. We need to get back to port.”

 On the journey back to Spaceport, Alda glanced several times at the pair’s belts. Anthull wondered if she was jealous.

 “So I take it you didn’t actually find anything useful.”

 “Every trip is useful,” argued Anthull.

 “You two come back looking like idiots, and I sit here getting cooked. He calls this useful. Are you hearing this, Sprice?”

 There was a knocking from within the ventilation shaft, and then Sprice’s head poked out.

 “Sorry, did someone say my name?”

 “I was just saying, Sprice. What was the point of this trip?”

  “Well, Alda. Earth is our home. Even the smallest piece of knowledge helps us build up our knowledge. When we return to live on Earth, we’ll know how to live on her again.”

 Alda laughed, but it wasn’t happy. “We’re alive now, ain’t we? There’s no returning to Earth. Earth is a foreign land to me.”

 “That’s not true. We’re all earthlings.”

 “Human ain’t earthling,” Alda scowled.

III.

“Damn, this thing is heavy.”

“Just look at it.” Anthull stroked the device with his three-fingered hand. “I wonder what it does.”

 “I know what it does. It impresses these shmucks and it gets me – us – off this damn planet.”

Anthull smiled drily at his mate. Alda didn’t appreciate the crude beauty in terran things. But he was still glad to have her by his side. She was the confident one. She could deal with the clique.

 “Do you think they’ll want it?” he asked. He bit his lip nervously.

 Alda put her hand on his and smiled . “Well, let me put it this way. Are you impressed by this hunk of junk?”

 “I think it’s exquisite.”

 “Well, they’re even bigger suckers than you are. They’re going to love it.”

 They watched as their shuttle pod approached the space station. The handles retreated as manual control was taken away and they were guided automatically onto the port and brought in slowly.

 They were wearing their best formalwear. This consisted of largely misunderstood human apparel. Alda wore a baseball cap and denim overalls. Anthull was sporting a fireman’s uniform.

 “Will you do all the talking?” Anthull asked.

 “Sure,” Alda murmered.

 The interior of the space station was exquisite. It had been designed to resemble a grand banquet hall on Earth. The steel walls appeared to be made of thick hewn stone and the naturally blue lighting was tinted with flickering orange. Dozens of tables lined the room, where groups of ridiculously clothed hulians sat.

 “Is that her?”

 “I thought you were going to let me do the talking.”

Iriathor sat at the top table. She was very old, very thin and very tall. Her long neck drooped forward to give her head room. Golden rings lined her long fingers.

 She saw the two young fetchers and cried, “Ah! My Earth gift.”

 The chatter stopped and all the heads turned to see them.

 “Great Iriathor!” called Anthull. Alda elbowed him in the ribs and shushed.

 “Forgive my mate, your greatness. He doesn’t know when to be quiet. We have brought you a great gift indeed. As you know, the Earth is mostly water, and those depths go deep indeed.”

 There was a murmur of agreement from the hall.

 “My brave mate ventured deep into these waters and brought this device back.”

The great, dull sphere floated on a tray a few feet above the ground.

 “What is it?” Iriathor asked.

 “We have not been able to fully discern, your magnificence. We had hoped that your great historians will be able to enlighten you. We have worked diligently, looking for a solution, but it eluded us.”

Iriathor stood. She was so tall. She glided across the room and seemed to reach the device in a matter of seconds. She stuck out her middle, longest finger and traced it’s circumference. Finally, she embraced it.

 “Ah, but of course. Perhaps it is better not to know. The mystery, I believe, increases the beauty. Were not the earthlings not magnificent, precisely because they are gone.”

Anthull frowned.

 Then, rather dismissively, she nodded her head and said, “Your payment.”

 Their payment was in two very large crates.

 “Alda!”

 “Yes, anthull. Look at it.” The crates could not have been fuller. It would have been impossible. The very edge was packed with galactic credits.

”Do you think that would pay for our own space ship?”

 “It would pay for seven spaceships and fuel for them too.”

 “Let’s get out of here.”

IV.

Several earthweeks later, Alda and Anthull were travelling again. This time, they had no destination. They were in their personal space-ship. Nothing fancy, of course. Anthull had argued that they couldn’t realistically afford a galaxy class ship and never work again. But they had something which had the power to, in Alda’s words, “get us the hell away from that murky blob. As far away so that we never have to hear the word earthling again."

But, they were not far away enough for that yet.

 “Holy crap,” Alda muttered, looking at her blinking read-out screen.

Anthull turned his head momentarily from the view panel and raised his eyelids inquisitively. When Alda didn’t respond, he asked, “What happened, Alda?”

 “That thing – the device – the thing we gave Iriathor. That paid for this...”

 “Yes?”

 “It blew up.”

Anthull, seemingly unbothered, turned back to the controls. He pushed one of the sliders up to full, increasing the velocity of the ship.

 “Didn’t you hear me? It blew up – they're all dead. Oh my god. They’re going to be looking for us. We need to get out of here.”

 “That’s what we’re doing.”

 “No. I mean, far away. Really far, where nobody would come look for us. Aren’t you hearing me? We’re murderers.”

 “You’re not a murderer, Alda. You didn’t know what it was. They didn’t either. They should have been more careful, messing around with old stuff like that.”

 Usually, Alda was quicker than this. The shock held her back for a moment, but then she understood.

”You knew.”

Anthull nodded. “Yes, I knew. I recognised the device. I had seen some way back when I was just a little hulian, getting into Earth stuff. My parents took me to Eurasia once on holiday. This wasn’t in the waters though. On land, a big grassy area. There were huge craters. Massive holes in the ground. And then, one of those things.” He looked straight at Alda. “A bomb,” he said, and smiled. “My parents didn’t make the connection. They wondered about the strange holes in the ground. But I worked it out.”

 "Why did you bring it to them if you knew it would do that?”

 “Oh, I didn’t know.”

 “But you just said-”

 “I knew it could do that. As long as it was left alone, it was perfectly fine. But she had to keep pawing at it. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was sat on it when it went off.” He chuckled. “Ignorance. That’s what they died of. They wanted the wonders of human society. They weren't willing to do the learning.”