Eirian
By J.L. Young

At first, I didn’t know what had happened. The sound of a car accident or something woke me. When I reached the window, the neighborhood dogs were barking. It was dark. I couldn’t see anything. I didn’t remember grabbing a flashlight until I was outside.

I could smell smoke from the east. Over the next hill, I found what looked like a balled-up piece of aluminum foil. It was nothing like any car I had ever seen. When I got closer, I could feel the heat broiling off the crumpled metal.

As I moved alongside the object, I realized it wasn’t some random piece of debris. It was a plane or ship. The front, or what I think is the front, appeared nestled between two large junked trucks that it had pushed.

Inside, there were two occupants. One was dead. Its head was nearly severed. The other looked as though it was sleeping and pinned by the console. I held my flashlight between my teeth and pushed a console free of its leg. It had a restraint harness around its body. I opened my pocket knife and sawed the straps to free it.

I sat all night looking at it, wondering what it was. I guess who it was is more appropriate, given that at one point, it was capable of flying that machine outside.

Its head shifted slightly. Its eyes fluttered. “Hello,” I did my best to remain as non-threatening as possible. It didn’t respond.

I guess I had fallen asleep because I awoke to the squeak of the springs on a rocking horse I was restoring. I saw it as it stood there with large ocean deep eyes staring back at me. It didn’t dare move in fear that I may attack. I guess we shared the same emotional state.

“Hello,” I raised my hands with my palms toward it. “I’m Orion. I won’t hurt you.”

It pushed the rocking horse again. It looked as though it enjoyed the squeak. The alien’s eyes never left mine as it moved around the room. It must have felt confident as it finally shifted its gaze to a sign I was repairing for a local museum.

“That says ‘exit.’ To go out or to leave.

“Exit,” it repeated back. Its voice sounded decidedly feminine. I didn’t know if she understood or if she was parroting the sounds.

“Yes.” I shifted forward and pushed on the rocking horse, “horse.”

It mimicked the squeak.

“Yes, squeaky rocking horse.” I tapped on my chest, “Orion.”

It slowly shifted toward me and tapped on my chest, “Orion.”

I tapped on her chest and she looked as though she didn’t understand. Then it dawned on her. She tapped her chest, “Eirian.” She smiled.

She rummaged through the house. She picked up a soon-to-be discarded computer and put it on my workbench. Eirian removed the case and the board. Her glossy eyes danced over the technology.

The alien proceeded to heat the soldering iron, pulled components from the board, and pulled her long silvery-gold hair aside. She tapped a device at her temple and it fell into her milky blue palm. The case was removed and the alien tech revealed. It looked peculiarly similar to the motherboard from my computer.

Her adept fingers placed the components and soldered them in place. Lights on the device activated. Eirian replaced the cover and popped the device back in her temple. She pointed at me and tapped her mouth. She wanted me to speak.

I realized it was a translation matrix and an idea came to mind. Instead of just talking, I pulled a book from my bookshelf and read out loud. Hours passed as she soaked up the information. Then, she spoke, “Orion, I wish we met under different circumstances. The situation over your planet is grim. The fate of the stewards of this world is sealed. We the Protectorate have failed.”