- We Should Have Gone to the Moons -
Milo was telling the truth when he said that Tora has the most beautiful sunrises. It ascends like a cautious prairie dog, casting a golden glow onto the sandy wasteland. The sun rises faster here than on Earth, and for that I am grateful. Besides, I only have a few minutes of oxygen left anyway.
I don’t have the energy to stand anymore, so I lean back against the boulder and dig my fingers into the sand. My breath fogs up the visor of my helmet but I can still see the group of Kealsars foraging by the oasis. Their tails whip back and forth, slapping against the miniature sand dunes. Strange creatures, but beautiful. Sapphire stripes creep along their backs before meeting fiery manes and bulging eyes.
It took us six months to learn their language, a week to negotiate living arrangements, and a day for them to turn on us. I’m still not sure what made them change their minds, flash their teeth and tear the rest of the expedition apart. We’d studied them for years. How did we miss the signs?
We should have gone to the moons. The stars are fading but the moons still hang in the sky like translucent marbles. We could have watched the Kealsars from there, from a safe distance. Instead, we tried to impose ourselves on a once-peaceful race. They need a few thousand years of evolution before we try to assimilate. Man knows how to explore, not how to sit still. Three minutes of oxygen left.
I hear movement behind me, but my neck is stiff and I’m not sure I can turn my head that far. Maybe it’s Milo. Maybe they didn’t tear his suit apart and rip out his insides, splashing blood on the sand like amateur graffiti.
Figures. It’s one of the little guys. He hops around and faces me, his head bopping up and down. His lashes extend well past his nose, an array of black frills in front of tan fur. He’s not mature enough to speak yet. I wonder what he’d say if he could. “Sorry that my herd killed yours,” maybe. Or, “you deserved it for coming here in the first place.” We just talk with our eyes, two living things immersed in a silent connection.
I’m not sure what he’s thinking, but his eyes look heavy as if he feels sorry for me. He hops over, leaving chicken scratch footprints in the sand. Leaning his head against my suit, he plops to the ground and nuzzles himself beside me. Now I remember why I fell in love with them.
Thirty seconds of oxygen left. The sunlight breaks through the clouds and warms my exposed hand. I struggle to lift my finger and release my helmet’s lock. Poisonous air stampedes my windpipe and I gasp in surrender. This isn’t so bad. The air feels cool and my face begins to tingle. After all, there are worse ways to die. At least I saw the sunrise.
