Human-alien encounters -- Fiction; Mars (Planet) -- Fiction; Science fiction; Short stories
He closed his eyes, at peace with the universe. He could forget the
pressure of sand on his chest, forget the heat that was beginning to
shower down on his thick, sweat-matted mop of hair. He could imagine
himself in a cool, dark bar on Earth, surrounded by smiling women,
sipping iced drinks.
"Ahhh," he breathed, opening his eyes.
Then he saw the Aab.
* * * * *
It squatted on a small, irregular-shaped dune some three feet from him
in the jagged sharp-edged shadow of a Devil's Egg.
Its eyes, like shiny pin-heads of obsidian, were on a level with his.
It was a red-scaled creature, about three inches long, combining the
most significant characteristics of an Earth crab and an Earth ant. Its
claws were tiny razor-edged traps on the ends of wire-thin appendages.
Even at this distance, Monk saw that its mouth was open--whether in awe
or in anticipation of a meal, he did not know.
The Aab rose on its six rear legs as if trying to stretch its dark
red body into a position of better vision. It rubbed its fore-claws
together. Sharpening them, perhaps? Monk shivered.
For the first time since his arrival on Mars twelve years ago, Monk
felt fear. Till now, he'd met no adversary that his strong, bull-necked
body could not subdue. Ordinarily, he'd dispose of an Aab by a
squishing stomp of his boot. And he'd flower the naked grave with a
squirt of tobacco juice.
But now it was as if he were bodiless. His broad shoulders, sinewy arms
and barrel-chest seemed buried a thousand miles deep in the very bowels
of the planet. He was a helpless freak, a living, sliced-off head on an
endless platter of red sand.
Fear was an icy bauble in his mind, rising, swelling, forcing out all
other thought.
"Go 'way!" he yelled.
The Aab's claws fell to the sand. Monk saw the menacing glint of the
needle-like tongue in the creature's black, open mouth.
Aabs were carnivorous, he knew. They especially relished the soft,
tender places of the human body--the lips, eyes, tongue.
Ten minutes of attack by a hundred Aabs would transform a man into a
white, clean skeleton. About the bones, the Aabs would lie prostrate,
too stuffed to move, their bodies swollen to thrice their normal size.
"Get out of here!" he screamed.
The Aab retreated a few inches, backing into the shadow of the Devil's
Egg.
"Go on! And keep going!"
The Aab turned and began to creep away. It responded readily to Monk's
commands.
For Aabs were gifted with a rudimentary, if unpredictable, type of
telepathy. No interplanetary circus was complete without its complement
of the deadly creatures controlled by an expert human telepath.
The Aab continued to needle a path through the sand. It passed through
the shadow of the Devil's Egg. It was now some six feet from Monk, a
tiny red ball half buried in the desert.
Suddenly a thought echoed in Monk's mind, ever so faintly, like the
barely distinguishable sound of trickling water, far away:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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