A Walking Shadow

2. Visitor

"Quite a cozy place you have here," I remark as Ganjeel leads me through his family's small, round cottage.

He chuckles. "Isn't it! But don't worry; all fourteen of us don't live in this one house. There are a few more on the other side of the lake."

We sit at the table in the center of the room. I notice a row of photographs on the wall—thirteen of them, one for each of Ganjeel's family members. It's a perfect segway into the event I want him to tell me about.

I point at one of the pictures. In it, an old man smiles down at us, his skin the same rich brown as Ganjeel's, and with the same grey, blunt horns forming a crest down the back of his bald head. "This is the man who died a few years ago, isn't it?"

Ganjeel beams. "Razhalga. My grandfather, and a great scientist. He and his wife terraformed this asteroid almost on their own."

"Tell me about what happened after he died."

"Ahh. The Aludran, Shema." He nods. "Funny story, that."

"One of your daughters mentioned it, and I was intrigued."

"Well," Ganjeel says, "I'll do the best I can to remember the specifics. This was two days after the death of Razhalga...."

*

We're a farming settler family, you see. I've been living on this asteroid for almost my whole life. Of course, we take vacations to see other planets, but it takes forever to get anywhere, since we pretty much live in the middle of nowhere.

So you can imagine the novelty of an Aludran man, light-years from Aludra, just happening to pass by and deciding to take a pitstop on our asteroid.

We welcomed him, of course. Some of my younger children were a little shy, since they'd never seen an Aludran before. All those tentacles! And green-and-orange skin! But eventually they realized that he was friendly enough.

His name was Shema, and he was a traveller in need of a break from his ship. He was very friendly, and entertained the children with stories of his escapades to planets far beyond anything they'd ever heard of. Personally, I was very impressed. Shema seemed to have done everything, from robotics to cooking to piracy! It certainly kept our minds off the death of our dear Razhalga.

We didn't actually bring up Razhalga until that evening, when my sister lamented the fact that we might not be able to honor his dying wishes for a while. The thing is, in our culture, every person chooses what their family will do with their body after they are dead. Some people wish for their bodies to be burned, or buried, or cast off into space, but Razhalga wanted his body to be donated to a medical institution, so students could learn more about the anatomy of our species. He was a scientist, after all, and one of his greatest wishes was for young people to have the same fantastic scientific education he had received.

The only problem was—we didn't know of any medical institutions to which we could donate Razhalga's body. And besides, with our slow ship and inconvenient location, how could we take it there?

We conveyed all this information to Shema, whose eyes grew wider and wider as the story progressed. At the end, he looked positively delighted.

"That's quite a coincidence," he exclaimed once I was finished talking. "My sibling happens to work for a medical school like the one you were describing. Do you suppose I could take Razhalga's body with me?"

We were, of course, very happy at this news, and thanked Shema profusely. The next day, we helped him transport the body back to his ship.

However, this is where the story gets a little bit odd.

That was the last time any of us spoke to Shema, but he didn't leave. That is to say, he didn't leave the asteroid—or, indeed, his ship. He just stayed shut in there for the next two days. A couple times I got a bit worried about him, and brought food to his ship. I heard a muffled "Thanks" from inside, but he never came out to get it until I was gone.

On the second night, I decided to take a walk around the lake, as I often do when I can't sleep. The lake isn't huge, but it's big enough that, if you stand on the opposite side as someone else, you can't quite make out their face. The perimeter is also dotted with trees. Once I was about halfway around, I could see the silhouette of Shema's ship across the lake.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I detected a flurry of movement. I crouched down. Shema had emerged from his ship, sporting a black, hooded cloak that seemed to cover every inch of his body. It even effectively concealed the long tentacles sprouting out of his shoulders. As he got closer to the edge of the water, I noticed that he was dragging something behind him in a black bag. Something big and heavy enough to be a body.

Shema sat on the bank of the lake, watching the water gently lap. He stayed there for about five minutes. I stayed where I was as well, feeling very curious and just a bit afraid.

At last, Shema stood, taking hold of the black bag once again. I thought he might be about to go back to his ship, but instead, he heaved the bag over his shoulder, and tossed it as far as he could throw into the lake. Apparently he was very strong, because the bag landed, with a huge splash, in about the center of the lake, and began to sink immediately. He watched until all that remained was a pattern of slow ripples.

My mind was reeling. What was in that bag? I was now sure it was a body. Razhalga's? That thought was certainly rage-inducing. But none of it made any sense.

Finally, Shema walked back to his ship. A minute later, the engines were firing up, and the vessel began its slow ascent into the sky.

*

"That's my story," says Ganjeel, crossing his arms and smiling and me placidly.

"How interesting," I reply. "Did you ever see Shema again?"

"No, never."

"Maybe that wasn't Razhalga's body he threw into the lake."

"Perhaps not. But what else could it be?"

"I don't know." There's a pause, then I shake my head and stand up. "Will you show me around some more?"

"Of course." Ganjeel stands as well, and I follow him out the door.