Lost Past (32 page)

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Gjeye
made his preparations to form a Bud.
 
A large meal came first with plenty of fluids.
 
He lay down on the one bed in the space ship.
 
His round body sent out a projection.
 
Because he wanted some heavy work done, he would give his Bud more mass than he had.
 
His huge body shrank and the projection grew.
 
Soon there
were
two of him, considerably leaner.
 
The passage between them shrank and disappeared.
 
The Bud was more muscular, but had no digestive tract or reproductive organs.
 
He would die in a week under any circumstances, but
Gjeye
was not so inhuman to make him wait that long.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
There was plenty of work to do, and of course the Bud was willing.
 
They started work on making a runway.
 
A low growing, gray plant masked an uneven surface.
 
They had to clear the plants and level the ground.
 
It was hard, physical work, with the Bud doing most of it.
 
Nevertheless,
Gjeye
suspected the work was futile because he couldn’t use a runway without a better wheel.
 
He was dependent on the unlikely event of help arriving.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
The third day after he crashed, another ship joined them.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Gjeye
would need to talk to the pilot himself, because the Bud was without vocal cords or even a mouth.
 
A single occupant got out of the other ship and walked half the distance between them.
 
Gjeye
approved.
 
This was proper protocol.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
"Hello, my name is Jason.
 
I heard your distress call, but I'm afraid I'm in trouble too.
 
The terrain is deceptive and I damaged my ship when I landed."
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Human,
thought
Gjeye
.
 
It's a good thing I learned their language for trade.
 
T
he human was taller than
Gjeye
.
 
His unremarkable clothing told
Gjeye
nothing about him.
 
He
had mutilated himself in order to wear a small gold decoration hanging from his ear, and another mutilation formed a decorative picture on his arm.
 
Gjeye
tried to withhold judgment about that.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Gjeye
greeted Jason and thanked him for landing.
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
"I'm not familiar with your species.
 
Please let me know if I do anything that offends," Jason said.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
"We are
Plict
,"
Gjeye
responded.
 
Again the human was behaving properly.
 
"We are not offended very easily.
 
I am called
Gjeye
."

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
"And your friend?"

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Buds were not normally introduced.
 
No
Plict
would even ask.
 
But humans were known for their unreasonable friendliness and there was no point in making an issue of it.
 
"He's a Bud.
 
He doesn't talk,"
Gjeye
said.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
"
Abud
?"

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
"Bud,"
Gjeye
corrected.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
"Hello, Bud," Jason said in a friendly manner.
 
The Bud looked at
Gjeye
uncertainly.
 
Gjeye
gave a brief nod, which the Bud imitated.
 
Jason seemed satisfied.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
They examined Jason's ship.
 
Compared with
Gjeye's
ship it was large and powerful.
 
The landing gear was damaged beyond repair, but they decided the two ships could take off as one if a proper runway were built.
 
Both were equipped for
a water
landing, which could be safely done in New California.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
"I was going there anyway.
 
I have a cargo to trade."

 
* * * * *

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
The three of them built a runway, largely in silence.
 
Traders were rarely talkative, because they spent too much time alone.
 
Gjeye
approved of Jason's behavior.
 
Gjeye's
experience was that silence was less likely to lead to problems between different species than conversation.
 
It was easy to imagine that the other being thought similar thoughts if nothing were said.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
All the while they worked by the setting sun, with the gas giant in a half
"moon" phase
overhead.
 
They worked feverishly fast because the temperature would drop dramatically when the
sun set
.
 
Gjeye
knew his Bud would not last much longer and it would be months before he could create a new one.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Jason required rest approximately one third of the
time.
 
Because
Gjeye's
recent
budding made a time to recuperate desirable, he didn’t object to the rest periods.
 
His Bud worked all the time; he wasn't weakened by such considerations as digestion.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Once after a rest period,
Gjeye
went to the makeshift runway.
 
He found his Bud collapsed on the runway with Jason standing over him.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
"I don't know how to help him," Jason said.
 
"What's wrong with him?"

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
"He is dying.
 
He is a Bud.
 
He’ll not live much longer,"
Gjeye
said.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
"What can we do for him?"

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Gjeye
ignored the actual question and answered, "Let us get him back to the ship."

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
They helped the Bud up and towards the ship.
 
It was easier than carrying a body, because the Bud could help a little.
 
Gjeye
led the Bud over to the recycling unit.
 
He had no desire to transport the heavy body even the short distance.
 
He laid out a tarp to catch the Bud's body fluids and helped him lie down.
 
The Bud gave
Gjeye
a mute plea with gestures as old as the
Plict
.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
"What does he want?" Jason asked.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
"He wants to die."
 
Gjeye
pulled out a large, sharp knife.
 
He would need it to cut up the Bud to put it in the recycler.
 
The dehydrated, starving Bud looked at him with approval.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Jason reached over and grabbed the knife from him.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
"Do you want to do it?"
Gjeye
asked in a puzzled tone.
 
No one liked to kill his Bud, but it was considered a sacred duty.
 
If the human wanted to spare him the unpleasant job,
Gjeye
was willing.
 
"The best way is with a sharp thrust through the base of the skull."