Looking för en kort historia om en insektliknande alien fångad av människor på sin egen planet

"Farväl, Ilha!" , en kort historia av Laurence Manning , även svaret på frågan Kort berättelse berättat från vegetarisk främlingens POV som observerar astronautbeteende, inklusive skratt och ett oacceptabelt svar på frågan Letter från Ilya .

Den här stackars varelsen är ombord på rymdskeppet och människorna vet inte att det är intelligent.

Berättelsen berättas av utlänningen. Han imiterar sina fångares ljud:

"LOOKOOSERE WEL-IL-BEDAM," I managed. Then I grew so dizzy I fell once again and wooshed all over the shelf.

There was an instant of portentous silence. Then they began barking like mad things.

"The little fellow's been at our coktal, HAW HAW HAW," Big-voice roared and pointed to the bowl. They all burst out barking with him—LAFF is their word for it. Deafened and desperate, I raised my probe and LAFF-ed, too.

"HAW HAW" I gasped. That set them off louder than ever. Curiously, I felt better. Laff-ing spreads from mind to mind like fire in a pile of sticks.

Utlänningen kan repetera vad den hör, t ex "passera sockret".

I was hungry. Greatly daring, I imitated their signal as well as I could: "PASSASHUGA." And it worked. They HAW-HAW-ed, but in a surprised and kindly way, and Bill put a little heap of it on the shelf so that I actually shared in their amazing meal after all, and enjoyed it too. I did not eat much, but of course I had to have exercise at once to restore my energy balance. I began to roll tail-over-courtesy al down the shelf and back.

Det kan flyga på natten och det kommunicerar meddelanden till sina utlänningar. Det styrs att de vänder upp atmosfärens värme (på något sätt kan de göra det) för att tvinga människor att lämna.

You are so punctual, Ilha, that I know you will be here exactly one hour after dawn, as we arranged yesterday. I am leaving this letter to explain why I cannot meet you. You must report to World Resource headquarters. Be quick. Roll to the place we left the skid-plane; fly with throttle wide open; you should arrive before noon.

Claim emergency; get an immediate interview with the Director.

Before the afternoon is over he is to blanket the whole area, quad 73:61 on the map, with infrared heat. Not to kill, tell him. Raise the absolute temperature only about 10 per cent, just enough to make it thoroughly uncomfortable. These visitors endanger our whole civilization, but I think that will drive them away. However, it may not, so at noon the next day push the power up to full killing temperatures for a few minutes.

He will object, but what if a few miles of sand are fused? You know the area. It was so thoroughly blasted during the Age of Wars that no more damage is possible, and anyway, it will be centuries before the reclamation engineers touch this part of our planet. You can—you must persuade him, Ilha!

It is rude, I know, to begin with such urgency, omitting the traditional greeting phrases, writing without Limik calmness or philosophy. But you may as well get used to it, for the creatures I write about are totally un-Limik—utterly out of this world!

Den främre huvudpersonen säger att den kommer att dö med människorna eller lämna dem.

I hope I can persuade them to leave this planet before noon tomorrow. But you must not risk our entire civilization merely because I have taken a liking to these monsters—and it is a real risk, for they are truly dangerous. Killing heat tomorrow noon, remember. All I ask is that you make the heat really killing; I have no wish to fry slowly!

For if they stay I shall stay (and die) with them. So, either way it is . . .

Good-bye, Ilha.