Submitted for the November 2023 prompt: Feasts with the Beasts

Commander Rish’rd Taylor, a fit middle-aged man dressed in a crisp blue uniform, stood in front of an enormous mining ship with his crew. They were surrounded by hundreds of armed Telemarcan males, bare-chested, muscular, and threatening with homemade weapons.

 

A nearby officer whispered, “I could activate the ship’s intruder perimeter, Sir. That would take them all out.”

 

“No! Don’t hurt them!” the commander responded, louder than he’d intended. The Telemarcans raised and sighted their weapons.

 

An elderly Telemarcan with long, white hair took two steps toward Commander Taylor. Leaning on a crooked walking stick, he raised his right hand to signal the hostiles to stand down. Then the old man spoke directly to the commander, his voice echoing off the silver skin of the towering spaceship.

 

“Hello, Father,” he said.

 

* * *

 

Later that afternoon, Commander Taylor and the old man sat together across an outdoor table heaped with food. Telemarcan guards warily pointed crossbows at the commander.

 

“Theod, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” asked the commander.

 

The old man shoveled a bite into his mouth. “Stomach empty. Needing food while we will be talking together.”

 

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, son,” Taylor said. “Your Astrish is terrible. Speak Telemarcish and tell me what’s going on here. I thought I taught you better than this!”

“I’ve only seen you three times in my life. Hardly enough to teach me anything.”

 

“Four,” Rish’rd corrected. “Once when you were born. And I still don’t understand why your mother isn’t here. We’ve spent time together during every convergence since your birth.”

 

“She just couldn’t face you this time. It’s been too long.”

 

“That’s not my fault! You know how this works, Theod.”

 

“We must seem primitive to you, Father. But we are not stupid,” said the old man. “You’ve told me before that our two suns are sisters.”

 

“That’s right,” said Rish’rd. “Binary stars. My planet, Astra-7, revolves around a supergiant F-Class star while your sun, Telemarc,” he nodded toward the dusty red orb creeping toward the horizon, “is a white dwarf.”

 

“I remember your teachings,” said Theod, “Telemarc, the far traveler that wanders off by itself for many years before rejoining its sister every twenty-four cycles.”

 

“Yes. A convergence of the stars happens every twenty-four T-years, but only six of my A-years. And that’s when we travel here. To help you. To help you all survive the close encounters with Astra.”

 

“By digging tunnels with your machines? Where we cower in the darkness like gribblers while your supergiant sun again destroys everything we’ve built up here on the surface.”

 

Rish’rd reached across the table to touch his son’s dry, wrinkled hand. “There are more and more of you at every convergence. We must extend and prepare the underground shelters or your people will die. It’s why I‘ve visited here four times now. I care for you, and your mother, and all the people here.

 

“We had hoped you would have learned enough science and mathematics to do this for yourselves — to build your own machines and maybe even spaceships to visit Astra-7.”

 

A flash of anger and frustration crossed Theod’s face. “There is no time for learning! Our people spend every convergence cowering underground, battling our own fears and superstitions. Then we rebuild our cities, replant our crops, and re-organize our governments. Even our children must work hard just to survive.

 

“Every Telemarcan would be lucky to live as many cycles as you have, Father. And even if we do, we don’t look like you at the end, more like me. Or worse.”

 

“I know, Theod, and I’m sorry. Our scientists are still trying to understand why your people age so much faster than we do. The best theory so far has to do with chromosomal telomere length and something they call Blackburn’s Principle which states that — “

 

“Stop it!” said the old man as he jabbed his walking stick into the dust beside his chair. “I don’t believe you, Father! I don’t believe you care a thing about us. You may have loved my mother once, a long time ago, but you don’t love me, or you wouldn’t steal from us like you do.”

 

“S-Steal? What are you talking about?”

 

“Tell us, Father, why do you load all the rock and dust from the tunnel digs into your ship and take it with you when you leave?”

 

“Well…” Rish’rd began timidly. “You know why. The debris is toxic. Lithium ore is poisonous. So we haul it into space and dispose of it for you.”

 

“And how much is this lithium worth on your world?”

 

“It’s… It’s worth quite a bit, I suppose. But — ”

 

The Telemarcan guards pointed their weapons directly at the commander and began sounding a low, angry growl.

 

“You cannot keep threatening us like this, Theod. Surely you know that! What do you want from us!?”

 

“We want you,” came the answer, but not from Theod.

 

Four Telemarcan men carried an ornate wooden chair through the ranks of guards. An ancient woman sat upon it, older even than his son. As Rish’rd stared at her, he began to recognize the beautiful girl hiding within the wrinkled skin and thinning bones. The girl he had fallen in love with on his first trip to Telemarc when he was only twenty and so was she.

 

“We want you,” she repeated as her carriers gently lowered her chair. “You and your crew must stay here on Telemarc, to teach our grandchildren more than they could ever learn from us. It’s the least you can do, my dearest Rish’rd.”

 

“But, I cannot stay. We cannot stay. We have our lives back on Astra. I’m sorry.”

 

“No, we’re sorry,” said Theod.

 

At that moment, a squad of Telemarcans wielding axes and pry bars in the spaceship’s engine room did their best to ensure Commander Taylor would remain with his family for the rest of their short lives.