By Delene Oosthuizen

“Ag shame skat, they’re full. These trips are very popular you know.” The motherly receptionist patted Therrus’s arm. “I can sign you up for the next trip, though. It’s on…” She flipped through a large book. “May 4th. Next Tuesday.”

Therrus fumbled with his glasses, trying to make sense of her heavy accent. Shame? Had he done something wrong? Ah, his glasses were back online.

“Shame—a feeling of discomfort and humiliation caused by wrong or foolish behavior. Also used by South Africans as an expression of sympathy, pity, or endearment. Occasionally used ironically or sarcastically. Similar to the phrase ‘Bless your heart’ used in the Southern USA.”

Only slightly less confused, Therrus turned back to the lodge receptionist. “Thank you,” he said, as he glanced at her name tag, “er, Susan. The fourth is perfect. Please book me a seat under Luke James. I’ll also take a room until then, if you have one available.”

A few minutes later, Therrus stepped into the warm sun and smiled. Headquarters had warned him against choosing an African location as his first point of contact and insisted he spend two months acclimatizing in the USA. Well, the two months were up, and he was a free agent! Sort of. Posing as a tourist on safari was the perfect cover to see Africa. It might have been a little easier if he had booked ahead, but he had been too impatient. Besides, a flexible schedule allowed him to pursue any avenue of research that might present itself. He stretched and strolled toward the bar. Let the exploration begin!

May 4th dawned in a hazy pink sunrise. Therrus shivered in the early morning chill and pulled his coat closer. The air smelled of woodsmoke and damp grass. A burly field guide ushered tourists toward an open-sided safari vehicle. Therrus glanced at the guide’s khaki shorts and shivered again. Being cold-blooded did have some disadvantages on this planet. He stepped into the vehicle and found a seat next to a teenager in an oversized hoodie. “Good morning!” He smiled.

She gave him a sleepy grin in return. “May the fourth be with you. I’m Holly.” She stuck out her hand in greeting.

Therrus beamed. “Oh, you’re a fan too! May the fourth be with you, Holly. I’m Ther— I’m Luke!”

She laughed. “Nice to meet you! Is this your first time on safari?” At his nod, she launched into enthusiastic conversation. Therrus smiled broadly. This was exactly what he needed—personal accounts of everyday life. He surreptitiously switched on the recording device in his pocket. Holly was the youngest human he had met so far, and he was already detecting different speech patterns. He nodded absently as she said something about how much you could see in the African night sky where light pollution was so much less.

Of course, one would have to account for the fact that she was American. The variety of human languages and dialects was as bewildering as it was fascinating. A comparative study on the various regional varieties of English would go a long way in establishing him as an Earthen linguist.

The elbow in his side jerked him back to reality. “Sorry, what was that?” Therrus smiled apologetically. He vaguely remembered her talking about UFO spotting and some documentary she had watched on the subject.

Holly gave him a searching look. “I said, do you believe in aliens?” She spoke slowly and deliberately. Ah, she had realized he was not a native English speaker and was trying to help him understand. Wait! Had she just mentioned aliens?

Therrus tried to keep his tone lighthearted. Breathe normally; don’t panic. “Aliens? Well now, that depends. I uh… I won’t… uhm, I can’t deny the possibility.” He fumbled with his glasses.

“Attention everyone!”

Therrus breathed a sigh of relief. The guide had stopped at a picnic site and was warning everyone to not feed the monkeys and to stay away from the riverbanks. A sign next to the walkway read Beware of Crocodiles! Therrus shuddered. The idea of a reptile, an apex predator no less, without Civaran intelligence was unsettling. He would not be going near the river!

Before Holly could resume their conversation about aliens, Therrus mumbled an excuse and made a beeline for the bathroom. A few minutes later, he slipped out and settled down on a bench under a wide-canopied acacia. An elderly German couple, avid birders, were happily pointing out a nondescript brown seedeater to Therrus when they heard a terrified scream.

It was followed by a series of splashes, and then more people started screaming. Therrus raced toward the river, falling in behind the big tour guide who was elbowing frantic tourists out of the way. Leaning over the wooden railing, Therrus adjusted his glasses’ zoom. He immediately wished he hadn’t. A monstrous creature, all scales and teeth and thrashing tail, was tearing at an arm. An arm attached to a slight figure in a black Star Wars hoodie!

Holly.

Therrus grabbed a thin rod from his backpack and leaped across the rail. He tapped the device on his wrist in midair and landed square on the monster’s back. He jammed the rod into an eye. There was a high-pitched buzz, inaudible to human ears, and then silence. The beast slumped, and Therrus almost felt sorry for it. Then he saw Holly’s pale face and mangled arm. She was trying to say something, something that sounded suspiciously like “I knew it!”

Therrus smiled as he lifted her up and let his hologram slip ever so slightly. “Live long and prosper, Holly,” he whispered back as he handed her up to the waiting arms of her parents.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Delene Oosthuizen has always loved reading and telling stories, both other people’s and her own. Her love of writing started with a story about a pink fairy living in a rose that became a series of bedtime stories for her little sister. Delene lives near the majestic Drakensberg mountains in South Africa with her husband and children. Her stories are often inspired by real people, places and events.

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