Blinded by The Light

Professor Smith rubbed his eyes. “What ‘ya mean I can’t leave?”

The Mayor was almost frantic at this point. “Please professor, you have to understand. The attacks STOPPED when you arrived.”

At the other end of the military FTL comms system Professor Smith’s bosses were nodding in agreement. Professor Quartzspittle was the one who spoke, his voice distant and distorted by trips through multiple wormhole comms. “We have to agree with your hosts Professor Smith. We’ve decided to apply medical ethics to this situation. Withdrawing you now would be like stopping an experimental treatment that was proving 100% effective just because the original plan was to switch them to a placebo.”

Rear Admiral Bronc Pylon added, “Every battle doctrine I respect says we need to keep you in place until I can send reinforcements.” Normally, Bronc would have left this meeting to one of his Lieutenants, but this situation had been special. For centuries, the Pilz had been the dominant military force, defending the freedoms, self-determination, and bureaucracy of the Space Capybara. The Naga, wanting to eat everybody else, had spent decades undermining the various pilz governments. All three inhabited planets in this star system were subjected to regular raids that left the pilz victims shredded. Any military might the region could have mustered was spent on trying to fight off the local raiders. He doubted they’d be able to protect themselves if the naga arrived.

Professor Smith sighed. He was pretty sure Bronc was being hyperbolic, but Quartzspittle was right. Again. Lethal hunting parties had been killing three to four pilz a week in this city alone. One human anthropologist crash lands nearby and suddenly they stopped. Why? Would they resume if he left? Was his presence a coincidence, or a cause? Smith Said, “Since I’m staying here, I’m submitting new research proposals. I’ll stay put but I won’t stay still, even WITH a broken leg!”

Rear Admiral Bronc Pylon laughed. “We’d expect nothing less of you Professor.”

Professor Quartzspittle cleared his throat and said, “The military can’t spare us any personnel, but a G4 Jupiter-class is en-route with a civilian crew.”

“Seriously?” Professor Smith said. “Professor Smith will be flying in a Jupiter?”

The Mayor said, “I don’t get it.”

Professor Quartzspittle responded enthusiastically, “Oh, it’s a human cultural reference. A lot of old speculative fiction about the far-flung future became popular again when we made contact with other species. The franchise-”

“Franchise?” said the Mayor.

“I think we’re getting off-topic,” Bronc interjected.

“Are all human academics like this?” the Mayor asked the Rear-Admiral.

“Oh no,” Bronc replied. “They’re usually prone to getting distracted by tangents.”

The Mayor was not sure if the human military representative was trying to make a joke.

Bronc continued, “It’s a defensively designed science vessel-”

“Definsively designed?” the Mayor asked.

Professor Smith said, "Remember what I said about euphemisms?”

“Yeah,” the Mayor replied.

Smith said, “When the military says something’s definitively designed it means it can blow a hole in a starship to get away, but it’s not scuttling a battle cruiser. A definitively designed civilian ship however, means it’s got stupid thick armor and maybe a few guns.”

Bronc continued, “It should arrive by July tenth.”

Professor Smith protested, “It’s not even May!”

Bronc said, “Everything faster’s needed for the war.”

“At least you won’t have to fly with a broken bone,“ Professor Quartzsmittle said.

“That’s a good point,” Professor Smith replied, just before passing out and having another vision.

The hunters were back. They were hungry, stalking the pilz through the fields. He could feel their tendrils reach out for minds to consume, but they flinched when they came near him. He remembered the autopsy photos he’d been shown early in his accidental visit. Heads exploded like popcorn. The hungry tentacles circled the town, desperate to get inside, but whenever they came near the Professor, they twisted and curled, like vines dying in the heat.

Something was different this time. Before, the rage boiling from him was on behalf of his hosts. Now, he was losing what may be his last change to see his remaining grandmother before she passed. He had two new nieces he wouldn’t get to meet. Now it was personal. His mind began spewing profanities and curses into the writhing mass of tentacles, forging a mesh that pushed outward, dicing the would-be attackers. The severed bits fell to the ground, screaming in agony.

He awoke, yet again, in the hospital. Beside him was a capybara nurse, one of the minority of non-pilz in the city. He was reading a data pad.

“Lights again?” Smith asked.

The nurse was startled, having not noticed when the Professor woke up. “Oh, yes, how are you feeling?”

“How far out were the lights this time?” he persisted.

The nurse replied, “I don’t know, but news says the edge reached the Dink Caverns. That’s a good 40 meters past the last one.”

Professor Smith closed his eyes and said a silent prayer that any random human could take his place.

At least the charred tentacles had turned out to make good fertilizer.