Resurrection

apparatus. Were they as primitive natives of Italia, to observe our alien selves much as his fictional protagonist had observed the demons and devils?

At a deeper level I wondered if we could stay humanity’s colonization to permit these creatures to one day evolve their own version of a political Rome, an artistic Venice, or a Florence brimming with intellectual ferment? I tried to imagine tables full of homaroids sitting on some damp Via di Vita, sipping espresso, and discoursing on the state of the government, perhaps even discussing philosophy … and Med. Creatures without a soul cannot aspire to civilization.

An evenlarger joined my group a week or two after Julius had suddenly disappeared. “Mi chiamo Jhl*kuh” he said to me with a surprisingly flawless Italian accent, rapping himself on his shell with his claw by way of greeting one morning a few days after his first appearance.

Perhaps it was merely because I had been speaking that tongue so much lately that my new companion had picked up the Italian, surpassing even the more senior ones of the troop in his facility with the tongue. It showed surprisingly good mimicking abilities, much as the original had done with my actions regarding the plant.

“It’s just natural mimicry,” Ajita remarked when I related this to her. “It simply copies what you do and say. Don’t read too much into it.”

Still I wondered at the similarity of his name to that of my former follower; had I been using that form of address on him by habit? I dubbed him Julius II and he quickly became the new leader of my flock.

“Nuovo! Nuovo!” Jhl*kuh said one morning as I exited the dome with my sample kit, ready for another day of searching and classification.

“A new plant?” I’d replied in surprise. The initiative, intelligence, and memory displayed by his remark was quite startling. It indicated that these evenlarger might not be so lacking in intelligence as Ajita supposed. Perhaps we should bestow on them the as yet unclaimed X-Homerus sapiens designation.

“Dove…” I began in Italian and then switched to the hideously harsh vulgar tongue that was our lingua franca, knowing that it could not comprehend either way. “Well, let us see it,” I barked slowly. Into the brush we plunged, with the rest of my claque behind us. I wondered what the day would bring as I trudged along behind Jhl*kuh in my hard suit.

Our troop’s trek to the center of the broad peninsula from the dome took most of the morning and, at the end of it, I discovered not one, but a dozen new specimens. These appeared to be a new order, one closer to the seaweeds of tropical seas than the land based ones I had seen so far. I named them X-Aquaia fortejulii, in honor of my new guide. The plants’ presence this far from the water was an indication that the sea had only recently receded, in geological terms, and that their recognizably acquatic features were residual attributes.

Again I considered writing a paper on the possible evolution of these plants and then reconsidered: better, more learned scientists than I would theorize and develop a history of this planet. My present role was merely to catalog the items for an initial survey, not try to unravel the story of this planet’s evolutionary history.

I even doubted that the provisional names I gave to this plant would withstand the erosion of time. This I took as further evidence of the transience of man’s activities and of my own in particular.

By the end of the fifth month Ed finally found out how the homaroids got around their growth limitations and why there was such a variation in their size. He informed us of his findings over our simple evening meal of bread and cheese, smiling broadly as if he were the proverbial cat that caught the mouse.

“They do grow very much like the crustaceans of our mother planet,” he explained patiently. “As we know, periodically their growth reaches the limits of the volume inside of their exoskeleton.”

“Yes, and that was why you and Ajita said they couldn’t be too smart,” Al remarked with a worried frown, as if he still feared that our pets would suddenly become sapient and declare us persona non grata on their planet.

Ed frowned, as if he had been caught in a lie. “Well, yes. I did. But that was only a preliminary thought— a theory—nothing more. Now I have rather more convincing evidence to the contrary.” He took a sip of tea and then continued.

“As I was saying, rather than stop at the point where they reach the limits of their shells, these creatures seem to be able to grow a new exoskeleton with more room to replace the constricting old one.”

“Wait a minute,” Ch’ou, our atmospheric specialist said, interrupting Ed. “Don’t you have that backwards? Shouldn’t it be that they shed and then grow a new shell? It isn’t reasonable that you could get a larger shell inside a smaller one. That’s just a mite impossible.”

Ed smiled as if he had anticipated the question. “Not impossible if you understand the process. The new chitinous shell is soft and pliable and somewhat compressed; all folded underneath the exoskeleton. It is only when the old shell is shucked and it becomes exposed that the new chitin expands and hardens to become a solid exoskeleton. Crabs on Earth do this every year.”

I thought of what he said and wondered out loud, “How long does it take for the new shell to harden? Wouldn’t that make them vulnerable?

I mean, during the period they are without armor they must be quite defenseless against all of the bugs and things that prey on them.”

“Quite right,” he snapped back instantly. “I expect that it would take three to four days for the chitin to harden to the point where it would be effective as armor.”

“Now wait a minute. If their shell is so soft then how could they move? And no, I don’t mean the obvious,” Elsbeth said smartly as Ch’ou started to interrupt her. “Ed told us earlier that the homaroids’ muscles are anchored to their shell. How do they prevent their muscles from tearing the soft shell apart when they rid themselves of the old?”

Ed explained, “The dormant one I dissected seemed to be in a hibernation state. I guess some internal process paralyzes their muscles during the period it takes for the hardening to complete. I would suppose that they sleep through the process as well.”

“Oh my God,” Ajita shrieked. “My specimens weren’t dead! They were just shedding their shells!” With that she raced outside, no doubt to throw some protective coverings over the pens to prevent further losses.

“I still don’t understand how they protect themselves during this vulnerable period,” I said aloud. “And another thing; why don’t we recognize the newly sloughed, or vice versa?”

Ed smiled. “Oh, we don’t? What about that Julius one that dotes on you?”

Wait a minute! I rocked back on my heels with the dawning realization of what he had just said. Julius must have been the reincarnation of my former follower. The revelation must have shown on my face.

“Exactly,” said Ed, smiling broadly.

II

The ship carrying a delegation of civilized homaroids arrived on the 250th day following our landing.

In many ways the ship had parallels to the Roman triremes, with the high poop and armored prow. But instead of banks of oars lining the side, dozens of small creatures were securely lashed to the sideboards, their tails trailing in the water and providing the means of propulsion, A length of cord led from each creature’s single feeler back to the helmsman. Apparently steering was accomplished by tugging on the traces, much as our ancestors must have guided the horses of antiquity.

The ship grounded and three immense homaroids stepped onto the shore. Showing no evidence of fear they came slowly and deliberately toward our camp.

We had tumbled out of the dome only minutes before. As soon as the ship had been spotted we had begun to throw on our hard suits, anxious to examine this startling and unforeseen event at closer range. The aliens, it seemed, were taking the initiative we should have begun. This was akin to the Native Americans canoeing to Spain to meet Isabella.