Writing for Fun
August 2015
The Crow Came Back - Pete Norman
'NO LIFE.'
The Pilot turned to his Captain, a puzzled expression on what could be said to be his face.
The Captain pointed a long, slender grey finger through the round portal at the half dozen sheep grazing aimlessly across the meadow before them, apparently oblivious to the presence of the huge silver craft looming above them.
'FOUR LEGS. WHITE SKIN. NO BRAIN . . . NO LIFE.'
The Pilot was not convinced that this was entirely correct, but he knew only too well that if he dared to question the judgement of his Captain further then he was in danger of retribution – he had pushed his luck too far once before and was not about to risk another extremely painful episode. He wisely remained silent, but nodded his head in deference to superior wisdom.
For some time they watched a variety of creatures come and go below them, though each one in turn was immediately dismissed as worthless. But then a small black shape appeared from the shadow of a tree, flying lazily across the open space. That in itself was not particularly remarkable, but when the bird altered its course in order to fly directly towards them the Captain was far more interested. The crow settled on a fence post and cocked its head to one side, fixing its full attention on the strange craft which had not been there before.
The Crow stared at the Captain with small, black, sentient eyes . . . large, green, multifaceted eyes stared back at the Crow.
'LIFE.' The word was so soft as to be almost indiscernible, but the Pilot had long since learned to discern every word his Captain uttered – it was safer that way.
'LIFE,' he agreed.
The Captain pointed at the bird. 'REPLICATE.'
The Pilot ran his fingers expertly across the display panel and bursts of multicoloured light rippled across the silver shell of the craft. Mesmerised, the crow made an uncertain leap from the fence post and flew towards the hypnotically pulsing light.
The Captain turned to watch the bird enter through the open hatchway and settle onto the cold metal, a confused expression on its tiny face.
The Pilot picked up the Crow with surprising delicacy and carried it across to the Replicator, a large grey box set into the cabin wall. For a few moments the machine hummed and bright lights strobed across the bird in its interior. From the drawer beneath he removed a bird which at first appeared to be an exact likeness of the other, except that here the feathers were not keratin, but delicate metal constructions; an experimental flap of the new formed wings created a soft tinkling whisper. Eyelids opened to reveal obsidian black eyes which scanned its environs with digital precision. A sharp black beak opened and emitted a tentative 'CAW?'
The Captain smiled. On missions to assimilate new worlds he was never afraid of encountering alien life, but experience had taught him that, before the perils of first contact, good reconnaissance was sound military strategy, to determine which of those life forms could be subjugated and controlled and which could only ever be replaced. It was always preferable to do this by proxy if at all possible.
The Pilot carried the Avatar to the Captain, who whispered a few brief commands before releasing it through the hatchway.
The 'bird' took a few moments to fully master the complex system of flight, but after a trial circuit of the meadow it set off purposefully towards a low stone wall into which was set a rough wooden gate.
Beyond the gate was a narrow lane with deep wheel ruts and cloven hoof prints ground into the heavy clay. As it flew, the crow turned its head from side to side in a lazy rhythm, scanning the ground beneath.
Inside the ship the Captain stood immobile, his eyes closed. Through the eyes of the Avatar he could see the trees, the indolent sheep and the lane unwinding through the trees and then, in the distance, a collection of crude dwellings swam into his view, round wooden piles with some form of dried plant life on their roofs.
An alien emerged from one of the dwellings.
'TWO LEGS. PINK SKIN . . .'
The crow came to a stop, hovering a safe distance away from the alien as his Captain studied the creature in more detail. It appeared to be smaller than Four Legs, White Skin and it walked erect. An unkempt mass of brown fur covered its head and its body was concealed by a drape of some coarse brown substance.
The Crow stared at the alien with small, black, digital eyes . . . the creature put its head to one side and stared back at the Crow with soft, blue, curious, sentient eyes.
The Captain whispered one word, 'LIFE.'
Without once taking his eyes away from the scarily unreal crow, Godwin reached down and plucked up a stone from the path. In one fluid, expert movement he drew his hand back and hurled it at the bird with all his might.
The Captain jerked his head back in surprise as the stone smashed into the fragile fabric, tearing one of the eyes from its socket, his view spinning out of control. Slowly the Avatar recovered and turned to face the alien once more, but when the creature reached for a second stone it spun around and flew away as fast as its damaged wings could carry it.
The crow came back . . .
. . . flying erratically through the open hatch.
The Captain handed the broken Avatar to the Pilot. 'DEFEND.'
The organic crow was returned to the Replicator. It stood uncertainly while the machine hummed and a kaleidoscope of bright light strobed across its feathers.
From the drawer the Pilot withdrew a bird which at first glance appeared to be identical to the first, but this one was different – dangerously different.
The 'bird' retraced the steps its sibling had taken and within a few minutes the rough dwellings were in sight once more. Now there were more aliens, some similar to the first, but most were much larger.
The Captain watched with grim determination as one of the larger aliens walked forward. He allowed it to approach with impunity, but when it raised what appeared to be some form of wooden weapon in a threatening manner he whispered a command and a bright bolt of light from the crow's beak struck the alien in the forehead. He dropped lifeless to the floor.
In an instant the other creatures rushed towards the 'bird' and rocks were hurled. The crow responded with deadly force, again and again, but when its reserves were depleted it turned and flew to safety.
The crow came back . . .
. . . pursued by an angry mob, screaming their defiance, wielding their weapons. The crow flew into the sanctuary of the open hatchway but the mob stopped in the centre of the meadow, staring up in awe at the huge silver craft. The stand-off lasted for a few tense minutes before one of the larger aliens rushed towards the craft waving a large stick.
The hatchway opened and the sky was suddenly black with crows . . .
