Chapter Text
The Star Beagle Adventures
Episode 8: South Side of the Sky
Scene 7: They Might Be Giants
8.7
They Might Be Giants
The rescue team spent the night in what was left of the bridge of the alien vessel. There was no indication that anyone had returned to the craft following the snowfall of the previous night and too little daylight left to begin the search for the remaining aliens. Radiation levels were too high in what was left of the engine room, but according to the radiation tags carried by each team member, were safe in the bridge section.
Ensign Tos th’Taabrit and Sgt. Tammy Glick were on watch when Captain Skip Howard joined them in the hour before dawn. Glick made a slight hissing sound and brought up her bullpup, pointing the automatic projectile weapon at something that was moving in the snow a few dozen meters away from the wreckage the team were sheltering in.
Captain Howard brought out a flare gun that was tucked inside his cold-weather coat. Ensign Tos th’Taabrit was armed only with a can opener - a kind of cross between a hand-axe and a hammer.
Something was definitely out there. It stopped moving. Then two more joined it.
“They can see us,” Howard said in a conversational voice. “How about we get a look at them?”
Howard fired a single flare up into the sky, lighting up the entire area.
The three figures were all very white and dressed in layers of white and gray fabrics. They were all about 6’ tall, but were far broader across the shoulders, their heads significantly larger than human heads. All three were armed with large, heavy spears. They reacted in panic at the appearance of the flare above them, bringing their arms up to cover their eyes.
“I need the marines out here armed and ready,” Howard shouted back into the ship. “The rest of you, strike camp and get us ready to move!”
Before the three interlopers had recovered from the appearance of the flare, all six marines were lined up, in twos.
“Keep your rifles lowered until I order otherwise,” said Captain Osollaa sh’Zhiathis. “No one shoots before I give them a warning shot.”
“Hold off on that warning shot, Captain,” Captain Howard ordered. “I think my flare made our point adequately.” Howard turned toward the denobulan planetologist and said something in his native language. After Cetris Rye responded, in Denobulan, Howard then turned to 2nd Lt. Pushkin. “Lieutenant, could these fine young gentlemen have ripped open those doorways with the technology you see present among them?”
The three spear wielders were now involved in a quiet, but intense argument with one another that involved some spear shaking.
“They wouldn’t have needed to, sir,” Pushkin replied. “They could easily have fit through those doorways.”
“Can anyone tell me what our planetologist derived about our visitors?” Howard asked.
“Juveniles,” said Captain sh’Zhiathis.
“Cave Dwellers?” asked Sgt. Tammy Glick.
“Both correct,” Howard replied. He holstered his flare gun. “Marines, at ease. Let’s lower the temperature here.”
In response, the 6 marines allowed their bullpups to hang from the clips on the front of their coats, each resting an arm on their carbine, which was how they generally travelled and rested.
A moment later, the first of the three large interlopers very slowly laid his spear in the snow and stepped back a few steps. After another short discussion, the other two followed suit.
“Lieutenant Commander zh’Kathar, you are checked out on the bullpups, correct?” Howard asked.
“Yes sir,” the andorian 2nd officer from the U.S.S. Escort responded.
“Captain sh’Zhiathis,” Howard turned toward the leader of the marine contingent. “I need one big, strong marine with me who can carry me back if things go badly out there. The rest of you, stay put and remain very calm. Their parents are not far off. I’m reasonably certain we’re being watched.”
“Private First Class Elvin Washington.” Captain Osollaa sh’Zhiathis pointed to the largest of the marine contingent. “Surrender your bullpup to Lieutenant Commander zh’Kathar and escort Captain Howard.”
The African American private was a little taller and considerably broader than 2nd Lt. Pushkin. He unclipped the automatic rifle from his coat and handed it, barrel up, to Lt. Cmdr. zh’Kathar.
Captain Howard walked forward. PFC Elvin Washington took up the position he had been trained to when walking with a superior officer, one step to the right and a half-step behind. They moved at a relaxed pace toward the large aliens. “Mr. Washington, if we get in trouble here, I’m relying on you to bring me back to our group. Preferably alive.”
“I will do that, sir.”
“Good man.”
Howard stopped about a meter from where the spear lay in the snow. He regarded the broad-shouldered alien in front of him. To the trained eyes of a biologist, there were several markers that indicated he was looking at a very nervous juvenile… the relative size of the head, hands and feet to the rest of its body… the downy, not fully developed feathering on the arms, shoulders, lower legs and the top of its head. The quick play of emotions across its face.
Very slowly and calmly, Howard knelt and picked up the spear, grasping it just behind the leaf-shaped head. The entire spear was made of steel. The leaf end was carefully decorated with well-worn carvings. It was quite heavy. He walked very slowly, holding the spear out in front of him, leaf end pointed over his shoulder and presented it back to the young giant, then stepped back once the giant received the weapon from him.
“Really big ones coming in from both sides, sir,” said PFC Elvin Washington.
“Signal our team to hold their ground and remain at ease,” Howard replied. “They’re not coming in hot. They’re coming to parlay.”
“How are we going to communicate with them?” Washington asked.
“The kids had a good start with the spear thing.” Howard took a deep breath. “Here’s hoping their parents are equally eloquent.”
8.7