The Vegetarian from Outer Space
By Joab Cohen

Copyright Joab Cohen 2012 
Smashwords Edition
 

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The Vegetarian from Outer Space
The Primatologist
"Riq, come now, don’t make a scene. Eat your lovely jocoda." Edith, Riq's mother, bobbed her white-feathered head pleasantly and pushed the meat-laden plate towards her wayward son. Riq stared solemnly at the four drumsticks, considered a delicacy in any other place in the universe and shrugged. "I'm not hungry," he whispered.
"Riq, it's not natural," his mother insisted. "You're seven years old. Don't you want to grow up to be tall and strong like your father and your older brother?" Riq was the smallest child in his class, a veritable runt, and his mother was worried. Walt, the aforementioned brother took the opportunity to speak up.
"He's a sissy ma. Everybody knows that. A wimp." Walt looked at his kid brother with disdain and punched him playfully in the shoulder. Riq nearly fell off his perch, and his three younger sisters giggled. Only his father, a normal, ten-foot Toquito said nothing, but his crest had turned into a bright red, which meant that he was very angry. Toquitos, the hardy, rational bird race that dominated the universe, were not prone to great displays of feeling. But if they did lose their temper, heaven help any bystanders! Riq quaked inside, and sincerely hoped that his father would not explode. But even faced with that possibility, he refused to eat jocoda. 
As it happened, Riq did not eat his jocoda that evening, nor on any other evening, and his father never did explode. He didn't talk much to Riq either, but Riq could live with that.  Nobody talked to him anyway, so he was quite used to being by himself and with his pets, the very jocodas that he refused to eat.
"They're just animals," his mother would say, "like snakes and lizards," and her son would stubbornly answer, "No they're not. They're my friends. They make me smile, and they can feel, just like you and me. You wouldn't eat your friends, would you?" Riq asked his mother, who dismissed him with one of her meaningless clichés. "Don’t be ridiculous," she would say and walk out of his room indignantly, wondering why the Gods had saw fit to punish her with such an odd child.
But Riq wasn't being ridiculous, and with the heart and sensitivity of a child he knew it. He had known it ever since he took in the two jocodas as pets, and even before, from the very first time his mother had brought him to the jocoda sheds themselves, when he was just a little child. The memory of that first, enchanted night would forever remain etched in his mind: his mother had woke him up in the middle of the night, and he remembered asking sleepily "What's going on?", and she answered: "a new shipment of jocoda are coming, haven't you heard? Come on, hurry up."
 Riq got up and dutifully followed his mother to the jocoda sheds. They walked quite a while in utter darkness and complete silence. The world seemed to be standing still except for their own, light movements. It was a magical, exciting night, and then they reached the loading dock, where an enormous anti-grav container was parked with its lights turned down. Riq stared at the closed, heated container in awe – it was the largest thing he had ever seen; several times taller than himself and stretching far into the night, so it seemed. The container was backed up to the entrance of one of the sheds, whose doors now opened. A low, soft light slid through the openings, and Riq caught a delightful whiff of fresh sawdust. His father, accompanied by his brother Walter, walked up to the driver's cabin and talked to him, without acknowledging his other son at all. Then his mother, still holding his hand tightly, tugged him away. They walked to the shed, where a metal ramp had been extended from the platform, and in the dim light Riq could now see what all the fuss was about: the container was piled five stories high with racks of the small, naked primates - the jocoda cubs. Riq watched in fascination as the workers, led by his father, carried one basket after another of jocoda into the shed. Within an hour, Riq later learned, thousands of jocoda cubs had been unloaded and evenly scattered throughout the shed, where water and food – a repulsive slop made of fruit, vegetables, and cooked grains– were made ready for them. 
For Riq it was love at first sight. Somehow he gathered the courage to ask permission to keep two of the cubs as pets. His father grumbled that they would die within days, since they were delicate creatures and needed special care, but this time his mother sided with him, saying that it could teach him the meaning of responsibility. Now, two years later, he looked fondly at the two jocodas sprawling in the cage in his room: tailless, hairless, and featherless, and with five digits instead of the normal seven, nevertheless, they held a strange appeal for Riq. He thought they were cute and funny, and even though they weren't intelligent enough to speak, they chattered incessantly, and made his own loneliness seem less oppressive. They displayed great curiosity, touching and feeling anything they came near to, following him and anyone else with their beautiful, perpetually astonished blue, green, or brown eyes. And when they played with each other they seemed almost like any other Toquito chick. He even played with them himself. He would go into the pen, easily jumping over the walls and fluttering down into the fresh sawdust floor. He liked to pet them, which they seemed to enjoy, though they liked scratching even better – it seemed they could never get enough of scratching, and when they weren't scratching each other they scratched themselves or begged him to scratch them, or at least it seemed like that to him: sometimes it seemed that they could almost talk. He had chosen one female and one male, and they liked to crawl over his body and snuggle up to him and bury themselves in his feathered chest or hide in his warm, cozy wings – they were really quite friendly creatures. 
Soon after that fateful night, Riq began to learn the operation of a jocoda farm: as second son, it was his duty to help his father and older brother in their work, and in due course he would inherit the farm or perhaps build another one like it. Riq took his duties seriously and quickly learned everything there was to know about raising jocoda on an industrial farm. Riq's diligence and steadfast work ethic pleased his father so much, that he gave him a special present for his coming out party, his 12th birthday, the day that every Toquito became a man.
 On that day, after the Confirmation ceremonies at school were finished, Riq came home. As he always did, he rushed to his room to check on Cora and Gill, his jocodas. But their pen was empty and in their stead was a bow and arrow, made from Tychrea wood, especially imported with great cost from the Home Planet itself, a laser gun, highly accurate within a distance of 200 feet, and a tranquilizer dart gun; in short, the essential possessions of a Toquito hunter. The presents were accompanied by a handwritten note from his father – a great honor – on which were written a few choice words:
Today, you are a man
Congratulations, your loving father
Remember: "Great hunters make great leaders" 
This last was one of the more deeply embedded mottos of traditional Toquito society, which still honored and respected the ancient art of hunting more than any other.
When Riq finished reading the note, his father appeared in the doorway, smiling proudly, "Well, what do you say?" he said expectantly.
Riq asked, trembling, "But where are Cora and Gill?" 
"Forget them," his father said impatiently. "You're a man now. It's time you stopped playing foolish games. Come, did you see this bow and arrow?" His father approached the cage.
Riq looked at his mother, who stood in the doorway. She did not dare meet his eyes, and it was then that Riq knew for certain he would never see Cora and Gill again. He collapsed in tears on the floor of his room, and his father quickly left the room in furious confusion. They never spoke to each other again.
***
They say that time heals all wounds, but lying in the woods ten years later and trying to get some sleep, Riq had his doubts. He never forgave his father, even though his mother tried to explain it to him over and over again: "Your father can't help it if his great-grandfather was on the expedition that discovered the planet," she would say. Riq, of course, knew the entire family story by heart: his father's grandfather happened to kill the first jocoda ever, becoming the first Toquito to smell the delicious, intoxicating scent of charred jocoda flesh, which has enthralled the galaxy ever since. Finally, when the jocoda began to run out, his own enterprising father came up with the idea of growing them industrially. As his mother proudly put it, "He saved us and the entire colony. He has to live up to his name and so do you," she explained patiently. But though all she said was true enough, Riq knew then, as he knew now, that his destiny lay in another direction, perhaps in a directly opposite one: it was his destiny to destroy his father's entire enterprise, or die trying.
Paradoxically, in order to do this, he embraced work at the jocoda farm to a greater extent than ever before: when the veterinarian came, instead of keeping his distance as he used to, Riq stuck by him and watched as he examined and dissected the jocodas. Riq forced himself to watch as the vet ripped apart the dead primates and began removing their internal parts, all pink and red and very bloody. At first, it was all he could do not to throw up (which he did several times, and the look of disgust his father gave him would be imprinted on his soul forever), but eventually he got used to it and began to learn the different symptoms of jocoda diseases and how to treat them. 
He also accompanied the containers to the slaughterhouse and intently studied the entire horrific process from beginning to end: after being gathered and put in metal cages during the night, the jocada were shipped in their containers straight to the slaughterhouse. They were wide awake as daybreak turned into full light and, smelling the blood of their fellow primates, they became very unsettled. The naked primates screamed and screeched and cried, grasped the bars of the cages and shook them, and tried to bite the hands of the workers unloading the cages. The resulting din was enormous, and Riq marveled that any work could be accomplished in such a racket. But the job was done quite swiftly. Workers began opening the metal cages and dragging out the jocodas. Some of them ran out by themselves, but they were quickly caught; others tried to hang on for dear life and had to be pried away from the cages by brute force. Either way, they all ended up at the killing tables, where the butchers, tall, fat, and enormously strong, even for Toquitos, snapped their necks effortlessly, and then cut their main blood vessels at the neck area, letting the blood drain away in the yard. After this, the jocodas were hung on hooks, which were themselves attached to a conveyor belt that led into the packing house, where they were processed until ready for Toquito consumption. 
Once, Riq asked for a tour and the foreman gladly obliged. "First the animals are killed," the foreman shouted over the din of the yard, "their necks are very weak so a small twist is really all that is necessary to kill them – it is amazing that such weak animals could survive in the wilderness," the foreman added unnecessarily; everyone knew that the jocodas were barely fit for survival and that their lives in the well-maintained Toquito farms were much better than anything they could expect in the wild. It seemed that only Riq wondered if the jocodas themselves felt the same way, but there was no way to find out – after all, they were just dumb animals that happened to be delicious.
They moved on. After the initial killing, Riq learned, the main blood vessels were slit, and the blood let out while the animals were hung on hooks, attached to a conveyor belt. Riq followed the foreman into the slaughterhouse. "Here we do the real processing," the foreman said as they stood in the center of a huge space, threaded with slow-moving conveyor belts and busy workers standing by them. "After they finish bleeding, the hooks are lowered and the legs, arms, and head are cut off," the foreman said, while a team of workers expertly carved up the jocodas, throwing the different parts on to different conveyor belts. Riq knew of course that the limbs would end up as drumsticks on tables all over the inhabited galaxy. He had not known that the heads were sawed open in a separate room, which they now entered, and the large, grey, convoluted brains gently removed, bled, and cut into four parts. Jocoda brains were a galactic delicacy, and a very rare treat even for the growers themselves. "The faces themselves are useless at the moment" the foreman said. "Eyes, noses, lips, and so on can't be eaten or used. Some say that we should peel the faces off and grind up the lips and noses and use them for sausages but that it is inefficient," the foreman explained. "For now we just throw them away." 
They left the brain room and returned to the central space where the pelvis was now removed: if male, the testicles and penises were cut off and put in a separate bin, which was watched over by a dedicated and trusted worker: ridiculously, jocoda sex organs were considered aphrodisiacs, despite no scientific evidence, and they were worth fifty times their weight in universal credits. Immediately following this, the internal organs were separated from the dead bodies and thrown into separate bins: livers, kidneys, intestines, and so on were each processed separately. At the next station, Riq saw, the rib cage was sawed open, and jocoda steaks were cut out of the flesh on the back, leaving only the ribs and spinal cord. Now the heart and lungs were removed, the 24 ribs cut into three sections, and the rest of the spinal cord cut into two parts, which were usually used as the single most important ingredient in jocoda stew, and who hasn't had the pleasure of sucking a jocoda spinal bone dry, the foreman asked rhetorically.
"After all the parts are cleaned up we pack them and send them on their way," the foreman continued the tour. They had been walking to the other end of the central space and now found themselves in a cleaner, quieter, smaller space, where workers were placing jocoda parts on trays and quickly wrapping them in plastic. The trays, still on the conveyor belt, were packed into larger plastico boxes. Most were frozen and some left for the fresh meat market: within days they would be sold to Toquito royalty on a hundred planets across the universe, the foreman stated proudly. Riq left the slaughter house a more knowledgeable but depressed Toquito: he could not understand how such slaughter could be considered civilized.
Finally, to top off his education, Riq majored in biology, and then left the planet and his family to get a degree in primatology at the best zoology department in the universe, at Yallowban University on planet Mihujicatl, where he studied primatology under renowned primate specialist Professor Xtilikiandro. For his doctoral dissertation he returned to Blisna, in the hopes of leading an expedition deep into the forest: while the first Toquitos on the planet hunted the jocoda incessantly, Riq aimed to be the first Toquito scientist to observe jocoda behavior in their natural habitat and, hopefully, stop the killing forever. The fact that all this would also ruin his father's livelihood was just an unimportant though enjoyable side-effect, Riq used to say to himself; a bonus of sorts.
The memories flashed through his mind as they often did, and helped him forget the terrible events of the day: after trekking through the endless forest for a month and a half with nothing to show for it except mosquito bites, two of his men, simple trackers, spotted a pair of jocodas and shot them for food, instead of tracking them, which was their job - a job that he was paying them good money to do…but try as he might, Riq had no end of trouble trying to convince people, even those he hired, that he did not want to kill the primates, he wanted to study them. The two trackers looked at him as if he were mad. Never mind, Riq thought. Where there is one jocoda there inevitably must be more, and therefore he was getting closer to his destination – and destiny.
In point of fact, Riq met his destiny several days later, walking alone after another day of fruitless searching. He was standing at the edge of a small enclave, his eyes closed  and his head tilted, keenly listening to the beautiful, lilting birdsongs of the forest. He was wondering for the umpteenth time how odd it was that on the only planet in the universe with such a variety of birds, none of them were intelligent – the first and only such case known in the entire galaxy, when a hard, blunt object struck him from behind. Riq fell to the ground unconscious and woke up in complete darkness, bound and gagged by an unknown assailant.

The Primates
"Tom, we sent you to bring back a woman or perhaps, if lucky, women, and all you can come up with is a ten foot chicken? Are you kidding me?" General Jenkins was 95 years old but still going strong. Despite his diminutive stature and thin frame, he managed to dominate the room with the sheer force of his personality. He gazed reproachfully at the tall, gaunt, haunted man standing at attention in front of him.
"At ease, Tom," the Base Commander finally released him. "Here, have something to drink. You look like you need it."
"Yes, Sir. I do," Lieutenant Tom Hartley said, thankfully downing a shot of whiskey.
"Excuse me if I sound bitter," the four star General said, now in a more familiar tone. "I am truly glad to see you again, it was just that I am growing old, and I did want to try and have a son…to bear my name forward into whatever future there is for us…"
"Forget the future," Tom interrupted in a much louder voice than he intended. "There is no future. The human race is finished. It's over."
"It's over," he said once more, quietly.
The Chief of Staff fumbled for his lighter and stuttered "But why do you say that? You came back, didn't you? The doctors say you're healthy – no radiation sickness. Your report says that there is habitable land all around us – we can go up to the surface! We can live, we can rebuild – you have brought us marvelous news."
"Fred, did you even read the report? Don’t you want to know why I came back and nobody else did?"
"Well frankly Tom, I haven't had time to get into all the details…"
"Fred, I've known you since I was born - almost fifty years – and I've been studying you closely for at least half of that time."
"So?" The General did not argue with the statement – living underground with less than eight hundred other men meant a degree of familiarity that was impossible to deny.
"So I can tell when you're avoiding the issue. You're just as scared as I am," Tom said.
"No I am not – I actually don't believe a word of it," the General said stubbornly.
"So now you are saying that I'm lying? Why would I do that?" Tom looked at the General in honest confusion.
"Now, now – don’t go jumping to conclusions," the General said. "All I'm saying is that you may have been mistaken. It was a long trip – more than two thousand miles to the East and back – it's a miracle any of you survived. You're the first to come back in the past 25 years. You know that. You know that everybody is happy to see you and have you back, and our experts have been working on the report since you got back yesterday. Don't worry about a thing – just relax. Calm down. Take a vacation – you've earned it."
Tom banged his fist on the table. "Damn it, you don't get it do you? They hunted us, and they caught us – and they slaughtered them like they were animals, like we kill chickens. They have slaughterhouses – for humans – and cities and flying platforms and lasers and spaceships, though I didn't get the chance to see any. They've discovered almost everything humanity ever wanted to know. It's the end for us, it has to be, if not physically, than spiritually."
"Well, if they're so strong and powerful, how the hell did you manage to capture one of them?" the Commander asked, "and bring him all the way back?"
"I didn't, of course. Not really. But it's all in the report," Tom said through his fatigue. "Look, Fred, can I go now? I'm tired. I want to eat and have a rest before I decide how I want to spend the rest of my life." The soldier began to get up but the Commander barked at him.
"Tom, stop it! Stop this despicable display of self pity. You used to be a warrior, tough as steel. What happened to you? You're a hero; start acting like one."
"Fred, I'm sorry you don't see it yet, but I have brought the worst news possible – a death sentence for the human race, worse than the Last War that has kept us cooped up here 3000 feet under the Rockies for the past one hundred years. Slowly but surely humans are being captured, bred, processed, and exterminated by a technologically superior race, as if we were cattle. It's the end. It has to be, even if we manage to convince them to stop, which may not be possible…" Tom stopped himself in mid-sentence; unsure if he wanted to continue this line of thought.  He got up now, a haggard look in his eyes. He shuffled his way out of the General's office with his head hung low and his broad but burdened shoulders drooping uncharacteristically. 
Morale was of the utmost importance on Base at any time, more so if even half of what the lieutenant said was true. The General immediately picked up the phone, signaled for the Chief of Military Police, and gave him his orders.  Within minutes Lieutenant Tom Hartley, hero and first scout to ever return from the Outside, found himself in a cell, right next to his own prisoner, Riq, the Ten Foot Chicken from Outer Space, while the high command of Base 51, the only known remnant of the United States Army, processed his report and deliberated its meaning and impact.
***
The prisoner in the other cell moaned once more and rolled over, falling 12 inches from his bunk onto the cold concrete floor. This time, though, he woke up, saw where he was, and moaned again. He closed his eyes and said, to no one in particular "You got to be kidding me."
"Personally, I'm not surprised. I told you this might happen."
Tom, opened his eyes and rolled them upwards so he could see the giant alien without having to move his body. "Yes, I remember that you did. I told him that I taught you how to speak English. He laughed at me."
"Who did?" Riq asked.
"The General. The old fart should know better than that. But he's scared. Scared like hell."
"You should eat something. The guards have been here three times since they brought you here – they haven't taken the food out yet." Riq pointed to three trays with cans of meatloaf, preserves, and crackers, and tomatoes and small apples, grown in the hydroponic farms. "It's actually not bad for food that has never seen the light of day," Riq commented.
Tom crawled over to the trays, and poured himself some water from the tin container. He washed his face and then lifted the can to his face and drank thirstily. Finally he put the container down and remarked, "That's better."
He sat down on the bunk and looked at his companion. "So, how have they been treating you? I hope human hospitality has impressed you positively."
"It's been interesting. A little boring, but that is to be expected," Riq said.
"I don’t understand how you can be so calm. You know they'll probably kill you, don't you?"
"That is a possibility," Riq said unemotionally. "But I doubt it. The benefits of learning from us, the Toquito, greatly outweigh the satisfaction of killing one alien. Your race is a rational one. I am sure that reason will prevail."
Tom laughed drily. "Considering human history, not to mention the fact that we have been living in a cave for the past century as a result of our so-called rationality, I would not hang my hopes on that particular quality, which reminds me – everything we say and do here is probably being recorded."
That would be the logical thing to do." Riq said placidly and crowed for what passed as laughter with the Toquito.
Tom just smiled. "Your sense of humor in the face of death is admirable, but I can't share it. I don’t want to die, at least not yet, not this way."
"But you will. So will I, so will everybody, sooner or later" Riq pointed out. "It's not up to us to decide, so there is little point in getting all worked up about it."
"I know, but I can't help it," Tom said and changed the subject. "I wonder what will happen, and if we'll ever get out of here."
"We will," Riq assured his human friend. "Until then it is best that you eat and drink and rest as much as you can. We may have much to do."
Tom nodded and went back to his bunk. He lay down, closed his eyes and immediately fell asleep.
***
As it turned out, the two friends had all of two weeks in which to recuperate, think things over, and make vague plans for a future they were not sure they would live to see. And then the guards came and gave Tom his uniform and told him to clean up: he was to present himself to the Council of Elders, Experts, and Chiefs of Staff.
"What's that?" Riq asked when the guards left.
"It's the ruling, or governing body of the entire Base," Tom explained. This means that they have read the report, analyzed it, and now they want to ask questions, which means we may get out of this yet with our skins – or feathers, in your case - on our backs."
"I should hope so," Riq remarked without emotion. "But you did not say who these people are. That may be helpful knowledge."
"Well, like he said, they are elders and experts and chiefs of staff."
"So I gathered," Riq said blandly. "But experts in what? And what are chiefs of staff – what staff?"
"Our history books tell us that when global nuclear war become increasingly probable, Base 51 was established as a secret military project," Tom explained. "The idea was that the personnel in the base would be the core of a new and better society. The experts are the scientists and engineers, who possess, develop, maintain, and teach the technical knowledge necessary for our survival. The base also included military personnel of course, for the protection of the civilians, including the scientists. This military personnel was constructed to be the nucleus of the future United States Army, in case it would be destroyed. So all the major departments and forces are represented, even though most do not exist – for instance there is an Air Force Commander, even though we do not have any air craft."
"I see. A clever set up actually, though not as clever as avoiding nuclear war altogether," Riq said and asked, "and the elders – who are they?"
"A new addition. As time passed and births and children were few, age came to be valued more than youth, and a group of elders was added to the ruling council. General  Jenkins is one of them – he actually is the chairman of the council."
Silence permeated the cell for a while as Tom got dressed, and then Riq asked quietly, "Respectfully, Tom, why are there no births and no children?"
"Nobody knows. It seems there weren't enough women on the Base to begin with, and then they just wouldn't get pregnant, at least most didn't, and finally they just died off. Maybe women can't live underground, without the sun and flowers and beautiful things. Who can blame them?" Tom answered. "In any case, there are no more women on Base and haven't been for several decades. In fact, I myself was the last baby to be born on Base, and that was 46 years ago," Tom said.
"That is sad. I am sorry for you and your race," Riq said. "Perhaps together we will be able to find women for you, so that your race will not die out."
Tom shrugged. "Maybe. Who knows? Meanwhile, I was supposed to find and bring back women, and all I got was you. They may execute me just for that."
"But is it your fault that you could find no women?" Riq asked.
"I told you not to hang your hopes on human rationality…" Tom smiled weakly at his friend.
"Yes, you did," Riq admitted. "Well, we'll see what the council has to say. Will I be invited too?"
"I don’t know," Tom said, as the guards came in and took him away.
***
General Fred Jenkins, impeccably dressed in his display dress uniform, dropped the gavil and in the ensuing, cavernous silence he cleared his throat and announced: "The Council of Elders, Experts, and Chiefs of Staff is in session. The defendant will be brought before the Council."
Two guards, flanking Tom on each side, walked him to a box in front of the Council Table. Dressed in the formal military uniform of a lieutenant and well-rested, Tom stood tall and gazed back fearlessly at the Council members. Most did not dare to meet his sharp blue eyes. Then the General said, "Lieutenant Tom Hartley, you are charged with violating your orders to secure and bring back women. You are also charged with the murder of your companions and with forming an alliance with an alien to undermine human civilization and destroy Base 51, which is the Hope of Humanity and the Seed of Future Society," The general paused for effect, took a sip of water, and continued, "Yet, before the Council renders its judgment on these matters and in fairness to you and in compliance with Base codes, you are hereby granted the opportunity to defend yourself of these charges and to explain the many oddities in your written report. Are you ready to do so now?"
Tom, whose face had turned red at the absurd and vile accusations, barely managed to restrain himself and give the proper answer. Finally he blurted, "Yes, Sir. I am ready to answer the Council"
"Good," the General said and asked, "Then will you please tell the Council when, how, and why you murdered your companions? Base 51 sent four of you on a crucial mission. Only you, somehow, returned."
"First," Tom said, "I would like to say that I completely and utterly deny the charges brought against me. They are ludicrous and do not serve the interests of the Base…"
"Lieutenant, the Council will be the judge of what serves the Base," a different officer, General Kellner, the Chief of MP, interrupted. "You would do well to discard your newly acquired arrogance." 
"Yes , Sir." Tom answered. Somehow, he knew, he would have to keep his temper in check and get the Council to listen to the truth. That was his only chance to save himself, and Riq, and perhaps the human race.
"Now answer the question: why did you murder your companions?"
"Your Honors, I did not murder them – they were killed in the manner described in my journal."
"Describe the events," General Kellner said flatly.
"We were walking in the forest, all three of us, when they dropped to the ground, completely lifeless. When the aliens came…"
"But how was it that you weren't shot also?" asked Emmory, Chief of Artillery, and Genral Kellner said, "Why three and not four? What happened to the fourth member of the expedition and who was he?"
"I'll get to that," Tom said. "I had taken a leak and was walking quickly to catch up with the rest of the guys. I was about 60 feet behind when they just dropped to the ground. I ran towards them, but before I knew it the giant birds came and carried them away. Fortunately they hadn't seen me."
"And you did nothing?" someone asked.
"What could I do? I was very lucky to be alive, and the existence of giant birds hunting humans was new to me. It was quite a shock," Tom said, the pain of reliving those moments showing briefly on his face.
"Quite," Major Kellner said. "And yet, you did follow them."
"Yes, it was the least I could do, though sometimes I regret that I did so…" Tom's voice faltered and he stopped talking."
"Go on," Major Kellner urged him. "The truth should not be difficult to relate, for an honest man."
"If the truth is unbearably painful and shocking, one may experience difficulty in relating it, and others may experience difficulties in accepting it." Tom answered pointedly and continued:
"Anyway, yes, I followed them at a safe distance. By my count there were seven birds. They had clubs, bow and arrows, dart guns, and also lasers, but they did not use any of these to kill my companions: they just snapped their necks and that was it, they were dead."
"Why didn’t you use your gun?"
"And do what? Maybe I could have killed one or two but then you would never have learned anything about it, so what good would that have been?"
"At least you would have died bravely, a soldier's death," General Kellner remarked.
"A useless death," Tom answered. "Shall I be convicted for failing to commit pointless suicide?"
"No one is convicting anyone yet." The General said flatly. "Do go on."
"They carried them to their camp and it was there that I saw Paul and Stephen being cut up – the birds sliced open the jugular vein with knives and let them bleed, and then they cut off the arms and legs, opened up their bellies, separated the parts…and cooked them. I watched them eating… Paul, and Stephen…I grew up with Steve - he was like a brother to me - and I nearly died myself watching him being eaten by these creatures, and I would have died a thousand times if I thought it would do any good." Tom was crying openly now and the Council was respectfully silent. Everyone knew that Tom and Steve were lovers.
But finally General Kellner said, harshly, "So you did nothing." 
"So I did the next best thing," Tom lashed back. "I captured one of them and brought him back so that he could be questioned and studied, and so that you would believe me, though it seems that I was mistaken in doing so."
"Do you really expect us to believe that you captured one of these technologically advanced, powerful aliens all on your own and somehow dragged him all the way back here from whatsitsname?"
"Chicago Forest. The entire encounter was at Chicago Forest."
"Chicago Forest? You mean Chicago City, of course," said Chuck Grant, the Head Surveyor and Geographer.
"You might want to update your maps," Tom remarked. There is no Chicago City. It's gone. In fact, forget about updating your maps – you can tear them up because they're almost completely useless."
The Head Surveyor turned pale at the prospect of his office being determined useless, "But why do you say that? How else did you get there and back?" He asked.
"We were lucky, or at least I was, and we had a compass, which worked just fine after we figured out that magnetic North had shifted 20 degrees East."
There was a gasp at the table – this was the first confirmed effect of the Last Nuclear War on the earth's physical properties.
"What else is new?" Grant asked, professional curiosity getting the best of him.
"Well, as you know, we tried to follow the Platte River through Nebraska up to the Missouri and then to St. Louis, but we never made it through Nebraska – it seems the entire state is a swamp, a thick, fly-ridden, deadly swamp, infested with alligators, enormous water snakes and other creatures. We were lucky to get out of there alive, but we lost David there – an enormous serpent-like creature captured him and dragged him into the swamp. There was nothing we could do except get out as quickly as possible."
"So where did you go?"
We backtracked and detoured north. We hiked through what should have been North Dakota – the lack of any landmarks made it difficult to tell where we were, and then marched East and then South until we reached Lake Michigan and Chicago Forest."
"City," someone corrected Tom again.
"There is no city, I'm telling you," Tom insisted. "There are no roads, no streetlights no buildings or even roads, at least not that we could see. There are birds, and squirrels, and deer, and even monkeys and …and humanoids, apparently. But there is no city." Tom had let the cat out of the bag. A little earlier than he had wanted to, but it had slipped out. "So be it," he said to himself.
The Council considered this news in silence.
"Why did you say 'humanoids' and not 'humans'? Surely that was not a grammatical error," said Bradley the Head Historian, who was also the Base expert on anthropology and foreign cultures.
"No it was not. I believe it is a genetic error."
"I don’t understand," Bradley said, and judging by the puzzled look on the Councils' faces neither did anyone else, except for the Head Biologist, Amos, who remained silent.
"We met some humans on our way," Tom finally admitted. "At least they looked human: they have arms and legs and everything else, except for hair, just like us…"
"For the love of God, man," General Jenkins erupted. "You met humans and did not bring any back to Base? Were there any women?"
"Yes, there were women and men and even children. As far as we could tell they travel in small bands and live off the land, moving from one territory to another."
"What do you mean as far as you could tell? Didn’t you talk to them? Why didn’t you bring any back with you? Tom, this is truly incredible negligence on your part," Bradley said.
"It isn't, because they do not speak English or any other language," Tom explained patiently. "They communicate with each other by grunts and gestures. They have no culture or technology– they roam the earth completely naked and defenseless, except for their speed and ability to scamper up trees and disappear within seconds."
"Jesus," someone said.
"Yes, that's what we thought," Tom agreed. "We tried to capture one, but without any success; they are just too quick. Finally we decided to shoot one of them in the leg; it was the only way. We caught a grown man and tried to teach it English – nothing doing. It spit and growled at us and whined and whimpered but it never spoke a word of English or any other language. After a month we gave up."
"That's quite a story," General Kellner said, who turned to address Amos, the Head Biologist, "What is your analysis – how probable is it?"
"We've been working on it," Amos said, "And it seems quite probable. The radiation could have damaged the genes to a great degree. Theoretically, any number of mutations are possible; most of them though would not be viable. Apparently this one was: the human race has survived, at least in some form."
"In a degenerate form, it seems," General Jenkins interjected. "Still, what are the chances of the two species being biologically compatible…for breeding?"
"I would venture to guess that interbreeding is possible, but the results may not be desirable," Amos replied. "A thorough gene analysis would be advisable prior to breeding and in any case we would have to take the children away from their mothers immediately and raise them ourselves, if they are intelligent enough to be raised into a human culture, which is uncertain."
"Hmmm," General Jenkins, mumbled thoughtfully while tapping his fingers on the oak table. "Seems worth a try to me. Lieutenant, where did you find these humanoid tribes?"
"We started seeing them in the Dakotas: there aren’t many but it would definitely be possible to capture a few and bring them back," Tom said.
"A pity you did not think of fulfilling your mission at the time; you would have been back with your companions and none of this would have happened," the General said.
Tom shrugged and said, "Considering the degenerate state of these humanoids, we all agreed that there was no point in returning yet. We did not feel that the expedition would be complete without further exploration. Perhaps that was a mistake."
"Perhaps," the General agreed.
The Council considered the information in silence, as the prospect of saving the human race loomed in the leaders' minds. But no one had expected or wanted it to come about in such a manner, with such a lowly species. On the other hand the thought of women, even if only bald, humanoid women, seemed to enchant the entire Council. No one spoke as each officer, expert, and elder imagined what it would be like to hold and touch and…Women, at last. The prospect dazed and dazzled and confused.
Tom watched on in wry amusement but did not say anything. It was precisely for this reason that he had not brought any females to the Base, yet. The men were starved and quite irrational, while the situation called for the utmost prudence. The results of a hasty, mass intermingling of the two species could turn Base 51 into a band of incompetent degenerates within a decade, and then humanity would really be finished.
Finally, the table seemed to rouse itself from its reverie. General Kellner coughed and broke the dreamlike silence: "The matter of interbreeding will be discussed and planned for in the appropriate manner, of course. Personally, I would like to return to the issue of the bird, Lieutenant Hartley. We were discussing the bird and how you captured it."
"It was nothing really," Tom resumed his narrative. "They had a camp, and a routine which was pretty easy to discern and follow. This fellow – Riq – had a habit of wandering about all by his lonesome and one day I surprised him: I clobbered him from behind and dragged him to my hideout, a very well-disguised cave I had found."
"And his companions just left him behind? And how did you get him all the way back – almost a thousand miles? "
"There was a search party, and I was stuck in the cave for three days until they gave up. I nearly starved," Tom said, his voice now down to a whisper as he remembered the long hours of silence in the bowels of the cave, waiting for the waiting to end. "After that," Tom continued, "it was easy. Riq is highly intelligent. He picked up English very quickly, and as it turns out, he's a Zoologist himself and was very eager to come with me. I didn’t have to force him to do anything."
"A chicken zoologist? Where did he get his degree, at Harvard?" General Kellner said scornfully, and the Council erupted in relief-filled laughter. 
Tom waited for the laughter to subside and then answered, "Actually, he told me he studied at Yallowban University, which is in the Andromeda Galaxy, but you can ask him yourself if you don’t believe me."
"Fool!" General Jenkins' voice thundered through the Council room for the first time since the proceedings had begun. "Don’t you understand what you have done? If we are truly the last remnant of humanity, and if they are truly bent on exterminating humans, as appears from your report, don't you see that you have given them the knowledge they need to destroy the human race completely? This alien chicken of yours is more dangerous than an atom bomb. He must be destroyed at once." All of the Elders shook their heads in agreement, but the rest of the table was unconvinced.
Tom said, "Your Honors, I have not been as remiss as you might think. The alien has his own reasons for coming here, which should be of interest to us, and he has expressed his desire to explain them to you. There is, as I understand it, no question of intentional extermination. I believe we have nothing to lose and everything to gain; he is, after all, unarmed and quite harmless in his present state. Listen to him, and then judge my actions. That is all I ask."
"I, for one, would like to hear what the alien bird has to say," said Bradley, the Head Historian. 
"I second the motion, said the Head Astronomer. "If they have discovered space travel, surely we could and should learn from them. After all, alien encounters used to be a significant goal in the culture of our forbears. Maybe this is just what we need to extract ourselves from our situation." The rest of the experts nodded their heads in agreement – they craved for knowledge above all else. General Jenkins frowned with displeasure and hissed something under his breath, but for the moment he did not wish to force the issue. "Very well then," he announced. "The Council will adjourn and after recess we shall hear what the alien has to say for himself."
***
 When the Council returned, Riq was brought in. His hands were cuffed and his feet chained to each other with a foot long steel chain that allowed him to shuffle into the chamber in a most undignified manner. He was also accompanied by six guards, two on each side and two behind, with their weapons drawn. Clearly someone thought the alien was dangerous, or wanted the Council to think so. Tom suspected that General Jenkins was behind the unnecessary charade, which did not bode well at all for Riq or himself. As Riq came near him he apologized silently, mouthing the word "Sorry". Riq reassured him with a barely noticeable wink. If Riq was feeling any discomfort or humiliation, Tom thought, he was taking it well.
Riq was led to the witness stand, but contrary to long-established custom, the handcuffs were not removed, and the guards stood several paces off, their guns armed, cocked, and aimed at the alien, who towered above them.
"Alien," General Jenkins announced," it is said that you have learned to speak our language and therefore are competent to stand trial, give evidence, and discourse with this Council. If that is so, nod your head."
Riq dutifully nodded his head and gazed at the Council. All eyes were on him: some were studying him dispassionately; several faces showed fear and loathing, others displayed curiosity and a few were genuinely excited. Riq wondered if fear and loathing would carry the day, and knew that it was up to him to make sure that reason and enlightened self-interest prevailed.
"First," General Jenkins said, "you should know that you are charged with the murder of Captain Stephen Hampton, and Lieutenant Paul Chudzinky. These are serious charges and Lieutenant Hartley has already testified to your guilt and complicity in this hideous crime…
Tom shot up immediately and said "Wait a minute, that's not…" 
"Silence in the chamber," General Jenkins shouted above Tom's protests. "You have had your say, Lieutenant. If you persist in interfering with the Council's inquiry I will be compelled to remove you from the chamber. The general stared Tom down, and finally Tom sat, but the murderous look in his eyes did not fade.
"Now, Alien," the General resumed. "Tell us your name and then tell us how you came to be at Chicago Forest and why you killed our companions."
Riq nodded again, took a deep breath and began: "My name is Riquetzlacchtli Ilhimahuitzli.  'Riquetzlacchtli' means silver wing in my language and  'Ilhimahuitzli' means regal. My people call me Riq, for short."
"Does that mean you are nobility?" Bradley, the Head Historian asked.
"No, Sir," Riq answered politely. ""Ilhimahuitzli" is a very common name among my people, most of whom believe that they are descended, one way or the other, from Chipuhuauwatilli, the Creator of the Universe and Father of the Toquito, my people."
"Interesting, they have a creation myth," Bradley remarked to no one in particular. "I wonder if…"
General Kellner made haste to ask the next question before the experts turned the trial into an abstract, intellectual expedition: "Is it a custom of the Toquito to conquer other worlds, exterminate their inhabitants, and eat them?"
"Not at all," Riq replied calmly."The Toquito is an ancient race and has no need to conquer or dominate any intelligent species. We are scientifically oriented, great explorers, and avid hunters, but we have the utmost respect for intelligent life. That said, we had no idea that intelligent life existed on this planet: all our attempts to communicate with the bird life on this planet came to nothing."
"Birdlife? Why did you contact the birdlife instead of the humans? I think you have it all backwards: you should have eaten the birds and talked to the humans," General Kellner said with a grim smile on his lean, pinched face.
"The Toquito invented faster than light space travel ten thousand years ago. Since then, all intelligent life that has been discovered in the universe has been bird-life," Riq said. "Primates exist on most planets, but they have no culture or intelligence, no ability to learn or communicate with other species. However, some primates are considered delicious and many bird species thrive on them. I gather that you feel the same way about fowl…"
This upside down image of the relation between birds and humans shook the Council, but General Kellner was not to be deterred. "I do not understand how you could fail to notice the inherent intelligence of the human race: it seems to me that you have deliberately ignored all signs of intelligence in order to satisfy your craving for primate flesh. Lieutenant Hartley has already reported that humans are considered a delicacy among your people. Is that not so?" 
Riq was silent for a moment and it seemed as if he was struggling with himself. Then admitted: "As I said, no one expected primates to have intelligence. Also, a survey of the land uncovered no signs of culture, except for unusual rates of radiation in some areas. Our scientists determined that the radiation was a natural phenomenon, responsible for the wild variety of species on this planet. Other than that…I cannot say. I can speak for myself and say that I have had jocoda pets, but I never saw any signs of intelligence. They are cute and very friendly and lovable, but no more intelligent than a dog. Personally, I am a vegetarian: I refuse to eat jocoda meat."
"Jocoda is your name for humans?" Cavendish, the expert on linguistics asked, but before he could answer Bradley interrupted, "Wait a minute, is that a common choice among the Toquito? Are there many vegetarians in your society?"
"No, there are not," Riq admitted. "In fact, so far I am the first and only one. I was hoping that with your help, I would be able to change this situation. As to the other question, the answer is yes, though I believe that we have mainly encountered the degenerate humans, the humanoids, and not humans such as yourself. I am sure though, that the moment the Toquito leadership hears about the existence of primate intelligence, our policy will change. The Toquito have never conquered any other world. On the contrary, we have always freely offered the benefits of our science to all the intelligent species in the universe."
"You know," Dillinger, the Head Astronomer, spoke up, "I really think we are missing the point here. This is a race that has had space travel and God knows what else for the past ten thousand years. Ten thousand years ago, the human race was still in diapers.  We should be embracing this opportunity and greeting the alien, excuse me, Riq, with open arms. For crying out loud, why is he shackled like a common murderer?" The other experts and some of the Chiefs tilted their heads in agreement and a murmur of dissent began to spread among them, but it was swiftly cut short.
"Your naïve attitude is noted," General Jenkins said loudly and dismissively. "However, the alien is a murderer and cannot be trusted. How do we know if he is telling the truth? Can you be sure that the intentions of his race are benign? For all we know, these Mosquitos have ravaged the universe like locusts and destroyed all the cultures they encountered and we are next in line. Is that not so, alien?"
"It is not so," Riq answered proudly. "However, as you said, my words cannot be confirmed, at least not at the moment. It is possible, though, that you may tour the universe and see for yourself the benefits of our friendly policies."
"And yet, if we let you go, you may call in your fleet and destroy this base entirely," the General countered. "Should we risk the survival of the entire human race on the word of a known murderer? Would you?"
"Killing dumb beasts for food is not murder. Are you a murderer for killing chickens or cows?" Riq replied.
"You are comparing apples to oranges," the General said. "Chickens and cows really are dumb animals. You killed intelligent human beings."
"To the best of our knowledge, the humanoids we killed were not intelligent," Riq said, "and you may yet find out that the birds and cows you kill are not so dumb as you think." 
Riq paused for effect and then continued: "Obviously, things have changed and now I would never kill a human or even a humanoid for food. But the past is the past and cannot be undone. The question now is: "Do you wish to hear what the Toquito culture has to offer mankind? You have nothing to lose and much to gain."
***
Again the Council was silent for a moment and then, suddenly, it exploded: the Elders protested, the experts clamored for knowledge, the Chiefs of Staff wavered in indecision. General Jenkins pounded the gavil repeatedly and shouted "Order in the Council! The Council will maintain order!" until the different parties realized that they would get nowhere in such a cacophony. Riq looked on with detachment – he showed no emotions, though a fellow Toquito would be able to discern his embarrassment at such an open display of mutual disrespect. But even a Toquito would not be able to infer his thoughts…
"That's better," General Jenkins said as the chamber quieted down, and the final echoes splashed against the grey, stone walls and faded away. "Obviously we will have no peace and quiet until our colleagues have the opportunity to hear what the Alien has to say. However, before he does so I warn you all, as Virgil warned the Trojans: beware of aliens bearing gifts. That is all. You may speak now, Alien, and work your spell on the Council as you may. Forewarned is forearmed, I believe."  The General concluded and sat down, his hands folded over his bemedalled chest, and a deep, disapproving frown on his dour visage.
"I am sorry that you have already reached such an ominous conclusion," Riq began, "Though you are certainly to be commended for your caution. Still, there is a fine line between due diligence and looking a gift horse in the mouth," Riq parried cleverly. He paused, surveyed the Council and resumed: "In any case, let me now tell you of the benefits of our ancient culture. First, as I already mentioned, we have discovered the secret of faster than light space travel. The galaxy is wide and vast and we have not yet explored even a third of it. You are welcome to roam the galaxy and discover new worlds and civilizations, if you wish. In addition, the Toquito have not known war or violent bloodshed for almost fifteen thousand years, due to the discovery of limitless energy…"
"Perpetuum mobile? Everyone knows that's impossible…" The Chief Engineer exclaimed.
"Excuse me, Sir," Riq interrupted the Chief's outburst, "for being so imprecise. Of course there is no such thing as endless motion. However there is what amounts to, almost, limitless energy: sunlight."
The Chief Engineer regarded Riq suspiciously: "So? We have been trying to harness the sun's energy for hundreds of years – the loss of energy over great distances or during conversion greatly diminishes the utility of…"
Riq interrupted again, his voice overpowering the contrarian chief: "Toquito scientists have discovered a technologically feasible manner in which to relay the sun's energy to planet surfaces with less than one percent loss of energy. As a result, there is no longer any need to fight one another over limited resources, because they are not limitless. With enough clean energy, all the food and water required by any nation can be grown and manufactured easily. The Toquito discovered this technology almost 15 thousand years ago and you are welcome to enjoy the benefits of clean, safe, limitless energy. That is why the Toquito have no need to conquer or dominate other species – they - and you also – have nothing to offer us, except your friendship and culture, which we would like to learn and share with you."
The chief engineer sat down speechless, finally.
"We also have anti-gravity, which is useful, especially in asteroid mining operations and aerial construction, though that perhaps is irrelevant in your case," Riq mused. "Advanced technologies for climate control and terra-shaping new planets or even old ones or damaged ones, such as yours… advanced materials' technology for almost any imaginable purpose, high-speed flying suits for business and pleasure, and of course many other cultural technologies exist, which may or may not be to your taste: you'll have to see them for yourselves and decide. Our medical technologies will obviously be unsuitable, but it is likely that they can be adapted to your needs. Such technologies and others have been developed by the Toquito, and they can be yours, if you wish it."
The Head Astronomer, a short, balding man named Quentin said: "Faster than light travel is impossible, according to Einstein's theory. How is it done?"
"I am sorry that I cannot answer that in detail; I am a zoologist, not a physicist," Riq said. "Still, everyone knows that faster than light space travel involves using the galaxy's inherent, timeless motion to accelerate to the desired speed. I am not sure exactly how that works. Still, the fact is that one can cross the galaxy in about two months, perhaps less if one is in a hurry."
"Space travel, at last!" the Head Astronomer whispered, stars in his eyes.
"But to what end?" General Jenkins demanded. "To explore a tame universe, with a ready-made technology? Where is the challenge in that? Where is the excitement? If the human race is to thrive again we must find our own way. Adopting such advanced alien technologies will kill our spirit, as sure as a bullet to the heart."
"On the other hand," Chief of Logistics, General Pembry, said, "the advantages can be enormous. Who knows if we will be able to find other human beings by ourselves in time? With the help of the aliens, we may yet live to see our own sons living on the land of our forefathers. Is that not a worthy cause?"
"Of course it is," General Jenkins answered. "But at what cost? Will we survive the humiliation, the sure knowledge that our horizons are limited, that most of the important discoveries have already been made? That the galaxy has already been discovered and occupied? Not to mention the chances of being annihilated, slaughtered like pigs, and eaten by this terrible race? Will they so quickly give up their favorite delicacy: human flesh? Can they? Personally, I am terrified at these prospects."
Riq looked on in interest, his gaze shifting from one speaker to another, until the Chief of Intelligence said loudly: "Gentlemen, I propose that this discussion be conducted later. There are many considerations and we should not bother the alien with all of them." He looked meaningfully around the table, and as his eyes met General Jenkins', the General said, "Of course, you are perfectly correct. Are there any further question to the alien?"
The chamber was silent. Much had been learned and said and the Council needed time to think things over. Tom and Riq were taken back to their cells, and the Council brooded over the day's extraordinary revelations.
***
Back in their cells Riq paced backed and forth. He addressed Tom, who was lying in his bunk: "Friend, I am worried."
"So am I," Tom answered lazily.
"No, I mean it. As a human, what is your analysis of the situation?" Riq asked.
"My analysis" Tom said bluntly, "is that we're screwed. We might be shot and killed any moment now, or we might be left here till we and everybody else forget why we were imprisoned in the first place. We may not see the light of day, ever, or they might question either one of us once again and only then execute us."
"That bad?"
Yes," Tom answered.
"Why so negative?" Riq asked. 
"Didn’t you hear what the general said?"
"You mean General Jenkins?"
"Yes," Tom said. "He doesn't like you or trust you and he certainly doesn't want change, or at least not any change that he can't control. We've reached a decent modus vivendi in the caves. We've learned to live here and like it. It's not a bad life, until you see the Outside – and only I have seen it and come back. Your arrival has disrupted everything, and everybody who cares about Base 51 will resist the disruption."
"But what about the benefits of our advanced civilization? We can save humanity thousands of years of struggle and strife. How can they reject that?" Riq queried.
"The experts surely wouldn't – they were fascinated by the prospects. The Chiefs seemed to be split and the Elders will surely object to any change," Tom mused. "I suspect that in the end, out of fear and in the interests of harmony we will both be executed. The Base will try to capture some humanoid women and breed with them. God knows where that will end. In any case, the Base will be safe from you and your race. That may be the most important consideration, in the end," Tom concluded.
"It is unfortunate that your race fears death so much that it refuses to embrace life," Riq remarked bitterly.
"How would you feel if your race was being eaten for dinner by humans. Would you not fear and loath them?" Tom asked
"But I explained, did I not, that we encountered primates – humanoids – not intelligent beings like yourself." Riq said.
"Yes, you did," Tom agreed. "But Fred will point out that the humanoids are our cousins or even brothers, that our flesh tastes the same, and that your race is guilty of genocide. Also, he will say that since human flesh tastes exactly the same as humanoid flesh, even you can't be certain that the Toquito will give up jocoda for breakfast, lunch and dinner, can you?"
"It would be incomprehensible to me that the Toquito would not respect intelligent life," Riq insisted. "Impossible."
"Would you risk the existence of your race on such an assurance?" Tom asked.
Riq remained silent.
"Even you do not trust me?" Riq asked hurtfully, after a while.
"I trust you, perhaps even more than before," Tom explained. "But I spent a whiole month crossing America with you and the Council hasn't. For them, this is the first time seeing an alien. They actually reacted quite well, I thought."
"Not well enough," Riq said softly.
"What?" Tom asked.
"Nothing. Nothing important," Riq said, without looking at Tom.
"What time is it now?" Riq asked
Tom glanced at his watch and said, "Six o' clock. Why do you ask?"
"So we have another hour till dinner."
"That's right. Are you hungry?" Tom said in surprise.
Not at all," Riq said. "I suggest that we rest until dinner."
"And then…" Tom asked
"And then we will eat our dinner." 
"Ok," Tom said, smiling, "and after dinner we will rest some more, I guess, until breakfast, and after that we can rest until lunchtime and so on until we…"
"We shall see," Riq said with an odd, abrupt finality. The alien closed its eyes and Tom was left to wonder what their short, incongruous conversation was all about.
 He did not have long to wait.
***
"Are you finished?" Riq asked. They had been eating their dinner in silence, or at least Tom had. Riq did not seem hungry.
"Just about," Tom said. "Why do you ask? Are you in a hurry? You have places to go, people to meet? Relax. When they want to kill us, they'll come and get us."
"Tom," Riq said seriously. "Do you trust me?"
"Sure. I told you I did. What's going on?"
"Then do as I say, now. Do you understand?" Riq said in a low, tense voice, almost a harsh whisper.
Tom put down the last piece of cracker and nodded. Riq motioned him to get closer to the bars separating their cells. And when Tom did so, Riq grabbed his shirt and easily tore off a small piece. He further tore the piece in two, rolled both into two balls and gave them back, whispering, "Wet them with your spit or some water and put them in your ears and stay alert. OK?"
Tom nodded slowly and moved away from Riq. Somewhat in a daze, he wet the two small pieces of cloth and put them in his ears. Just then, the guard came in to take the empty trays away. Riq opened his beak, but no sound came out. Tom felt intense pressure in his head and he became dizzy. He sat down heavily on his bunk as the guard collapsed, blood trickling from his ear. Riq did not bother with the keys – he grabbed two adjacent bars and pulled them away effortlessly. He stepped out of his cell, released Tom from his, and said: "Get us out of here. Now."
"But, but," Tom stuttered. "You killed him!"
"That is unlikely. He's stunned and perhaps his ear drum tore. It will heal," Riq explained impatiently. "Come on, Tom. We're leaving. Show us the way out."
But Tom still did not move. Feet were scurrying in the corridor and people were shouting orders. Riq shook Tom and said, "You wanted to live didn’t you? Now's your chance. Perhaps your only chance."
The prospect of leaving Base 51 for good, or perhaps the unexpected subsonic blast, seemed to paralyze the officer. Riq made a decision: he lifted Tom onto his shoulders and held him there with one arm. With the other one he forced the door open and began running down the corridor, following the path from his trip to the Council, because it was the only one he remembered. Bullets chased them from behind and Riq stopped and opened his beak once again and there was silence. He put Tom down and slapped him once, a solid, open handed slap on the face. "Tom, snap out of it! I need you! You need you!" Riq lifted his arm again, but Tom stopped him, "That's enough Riq. I'm OK." He looked around and said, "We're going the wrong way, downwards instead of up. The nearest entrance is about a mile eastward. That way," Tom said, pointing to the way they had come from.
"Can you run?" Riq asked.
"I'm fine now. Scared but fine."
"Don’t worry, everything will work out just fine," Riq reassured him.
"But no killing – no humans must be killed. Is that understood?" Tom was adamant.
"Of course," Riq agreed. "They are stunned, not dead," Riq said as they approached the first group of prone soldiers. Tom stooped for a moment and checked pulses. After a moment he announced "They're alive."
"I told you so," Riq said. "You can trust me."
"Well, you can trust me too. Why didn’t you tell me about your plan? It would have been so much better to escape at night, we wouldn’t have had to…" Tom stopped as they both heard sirens sounding the alarm.
"Never mind," Tom said. "We'll just have to make a run for it. Fortunately, nobody has escaped or tried to in a hundred years. I'll bet nobody knows what to do!"
That much seemed to be true enough. They met few people on their way, mostly civilians that got out of the way of the two companions, who were running as fast as their legs could carry them. Only twice did they meet any resistance, and Riq suffered a flesh wound before they managed to reach Exit No. 4, on the eastern side of the Base. There, a small contingent of about a dozen men and officers were waiting for them and they opened fire just as Riq and Tom emerged from the tunnel into the round, open space. Tom, who had been in the lead, bore the brunt of the first barrage. The force of the impact drove him back into Riq, who retreated quickly into the passage way. He kneeled down and examined his human friend. "Tom, can you hear me? Don’t go away. I'll have you out of here in no time and you'll get the best treatment possible. You'll be fine. Do you hear me? Tom!!!"
The human groaned. His chest still heaved intermittently, but he was coughing blood now. Tears of sorrow and rage fell from Riq's eyes. He made sure Tom still had his cloth earplugs, and then he turned to face the humans, and in one long, painful, and silent subsonic scream of agony, he obliterated all resistance. He picked up Tom, and quickly climbed the steel ladder. At the top of the silo, the round lid was fastened with a heavy steel lock. Riq punched the lid open in anger, breaking the lock, and they emerged into the cold, starry evening. Riq took a deep breath of fresh air, cursed all aliens - except Tom - to kingdom come, spread his wings and with Tom's body in his arms he took flight, heading East.
***
"Where am I?" Tom asked
"Home. My home," Riq said.
Tom looked around. He was in a round, white washed room with a very high ceiling crisscrossed by two bars. Several machines as well as an IV were placed around him, though they seemed idle. No cables, tubes, or wires were attached to his body. "It looks just like a hospital room," Tom said, finally.
"It is, sort of. I improvised."
"You improvised? You're a doctor? I thought you said you're a zoologist."
I am, and guess what?" Riq said with a smile. "I majored in humans - or humanoids - and I also spent my entire childhood raising jocoda. As far as I can tell you are physiologically identical. I brought you back as quickly as I could and patched you up. You were quite a mess."
I remember," Tom said, reminiscing. "I was dying. I must have been hit by a dozen bullets. I can't be alive. It's impossible." Tom looked down at his body and exclaimed, "And no scars? At all?" His chest and stomach seemed completely smooth. No breakages or stitches were evident. He sat up and stared in astonishment at Riq, his eyes questioning the alien.
"I am not incompetent, my friend, and also, like I told you, we do have very advanced medical technology. I improvised a bit, and here you are, as good as new."
"Here I am." Tom repeated to himself. Louder he said, "I, for one, am definitely impressed with your medical technology. Too bad my friends weren't." He got up from bed, feeling rested and oddly vigorous. "I feel great!" he exclaimed.
"Glad to hear it." Riq said. "Your friends will come around. They just need time." He added.
"You think so?" Tom began to dress. His clothes had been patched up and washed.
"I've had some time to think and now I'm sure of it," Riq assured him. "They just have to get used to the idea of not being alone in the universe. It's quite a disappointment. And you'll help them, and us."
"What do you mean? What can I do?" Tom asked.
"First, you can help me convince my people that humans are intelligent and that the jocoda are your kin. That should be enough to stop the jocoda industry. Then we have to find a mate for you and more females for your friends. Now that we know that some of your people have survived, we can search for other forgotten colonies. Maybe they will be more receptive to our message of friendship and cooperation. And every once in a while we will contact your home base and ask them if they need anything. That will do, for a beginning."
"A beginning of what?" Tom asked.
"A beginning of the partnership between the Toquito and the human race." Riq stretched out his hand and said, "Come, it's time to go."
Tom took the outstretched hand in his and said, "Where are we going?"
"Into the future," Riq replied, as the two friends walked out the door, hand in hand.

The End
###

Thank you for reading The Vegetarian from Outer Space. I hope you enjoyed the story! If so, you may also be interested in reading The Jewminator, another science fiction story/political fantasy that I have written. You can download it for free on Smashwords. 
You are also welcome to visit my site: http://www.joabstories.blogspot.com/ where new works and comments are uploaded periodically.