Scratchpad

Author's warning: as of this writing, no readability tests have been done on the colored text in this fic.  The color itself is a bonus, however, and you will loose nothing relevant if you disregard it.

There's a flare of red light and a strange-looking thing come over the horizon.  Bulbous, unaerodynamic, and ugly, insectlike gold-plated legs seem to try to trail behind it as it sits atop a pillar of fire.  It continues forward for many seconds, then, apparently satisfied, drifts downward.  The legs suddenly thrust outward and make contact with the ground, just as the fire disappears.

Silence reigns for several more seconds.  Then, a burst of communication:  "Houston, Tranquility base here.  The Eagle has landed."

Another source --voice?-- comes.  "We copy you on the ground. You got a bunch of guys about to turn blue. We're breathing again. Thanks a lot."

More communication.  Lots of arcane technical terms.  Eventually, a hatch opens on the side, and a bulky figure climbs out.  It's got four limbs, but apparently it walks upright, based on the ladder it's using.  The forward limbs end in what seem to be primary manipulators.  A bubble at the top has a different appearance, presumably, this is the location of the head.

There's another burst of chatter as it jumps off the ladder.  Perhaps the big one is a craft of some sort for smaller independent actors.  I creep closer as it sets up some sort of tripod.  I've no intention of making contact, of course, but I am curious what they could want.

The first figure is shortly joined by another, and they hop about, placing various contraptions here and there around the landing site.  I probe the original craft when it seems they're not looking, and there aren't any more of them inside.  I circle around, and when they head off in the opposite direction I dart in to investigate.

I laugh at the simplicity of some of the stuff.  A few of the large ones, for example, appear to be nothing more than very fine mirrors.  Others are less clear.  One box gives off a glow that I simply avoid.  Another item is obviously a flag, but why would they bother bringing that?

The craft is most ingenious, however.  It's in two portions.  The upper portion is capable of sealing itself, with tanks of numerous substances for both propulsion and reasons unknown.  Various linkages show that it provides controls for the lower portion, and radiative communications devices stick out at odd angles.  It even contains a machine capable of its own arithmetic!  The lower portion is coated with the same golden matériel as the legs, and contains as-yet-unused equipment and emptied tanks.

Also on the lower portion is an engraved sheet of metal.  Numerous symbols are arranged, clearly to give some sort of message.  Also are stylized marks, seemingly similar to an artist's identifying mark but different in design.  Most interesting, however, are a pair of circular diagrams, looking much as a globe might if you took a picture of it.  I look up, and sure enough, a distant marble displays green patterns that would match the diagrams.

I'm so engrossed in wondering where this unknown planet came from that I don't register the change in message tone until one distant biped leaves what it's doing to join its companion.  I cast back, trying to determine what I missed.  "Buzz, you might want to come see this."  I glance at the other, wondering what it may have found.  I double-take when I see where it is.  Stupid, stupid!  Of course they would have found that!  The dust here will retain impressions until they're removed!

I quickly sweep every area around the ladder where I've walked.  It's too late to prevent discovery, but maybe I can prevent them from discovering that I know about them.  I continue erasing my tracks as I trace my path back away from the landing zone.  It's bad enough that I'm too late to prevent them from sharing the discovery--

"Houston, I don't think we're alone out here."

They spend quite a bit of time out there, circling around, evidently investigating.  I take advantage of the extra time to eradicate more evidence and leave a false trail leading off in the other direction.  With luck, they'll decide the trail is too old to be worth following.  I suspect I could defeat them both easily, but I don't bear them any particular ill will and I'd regardless rather not test it.  Still, the unintelligible scrap of signal echoes through my head: "Document, but do not pursue".

Finally, the two return to the area of their craft.  I continue to lurk, terrified that they might detect me yet.  But they only gather more samples before clambering back aboard.  An assortment of equipment gets tossed out, however, and they show no signs of re-emerging.  After the longest span since they arrived, more chatter, and the upper portion of the craft warms up, clearly intended to return them to where they came from.

After a moment, things begin to get worrisome.  It's taking longer than I would have expected, or than they expected either.  I sigh, and reach out to investigate.  The fault becomes readily apparent when I find one of the creatures using an improvised tool to probe a control.  I toggle it myself.  They seem to accept that as normal, and proceed.  The upper portion of the craft separates and lifts off, knocking over their carefully placed flag.  I briefly consider putting it back up for them later, then decide against it.  After all, they may return.

As the strange craft disappears over the horizon, I wander back to the lower portion again.  They don't know it -- they may never know it -- but no matter how easily I may be able to take over their world, they are in no danger from me.  It's not home, for one thing, but it's not them I want to rule over anyways.

I eventually head to the rim of the small west crater.  For some reason, I want to look at exactly what caused all this trouble, even though I already know.  It's largely undisturbed -- apart from the prints, they haven't left anything behind, and there's no indication that they took anything from here with them, apart perhaps from photographs.  I walk down the slope, careful not to step where they did -- that would be hard to clean up -- momentarily obsessed with the idea of seeing it myself.

There, at the bottom of the crater, surrounded by treadlike patterns, is a perfect set of my hoofprints.