He Comes in Peace

[Kartayon's Point of View]

I had to translate the story to the best of my ability, for the legend was told to the youngest of my kind. Our language is not easily made into English; the task of translating was made even more gruesome when Skye interrupted, constantly, with badgering questions.

"Who's Galxan?" I had not even gotten to the name of the main character when Skye entered, quite on cue, with her interruption.

"It is not pronounced Galcks-en, Skye. The 'X' is pronounced with the 'Z' sound, so it is Gal-zen. And I was about to continue," I replied with as much patience as I could muster. All these untimely cut-offs and blurted words made me irritable. Have Earthlings no manners, no regards?

I decided to start from the beginning once more; I was not very far into the story, perhaps two or three sentences, before her burning curiosity seemed to radiate from her.

"All right, all right. Sorry for cutting you off," Skye mumbled.

I nodded slowly, and started once more.

"Hundreds of millennia ago, the stars and galaxies had just been born. Earth had not yet been created by Galxan's hand, the being that we Quettles believe to have created every other planet and galaxy, apart from our own."

"Why just your own? How can you be so sure there isn't another planet out there made by someone else?"

"Again, Skye Cedona, your interruptions are untimely and irritating!"

"I know, but I just thought, it's not really-"

"Suspension of disbelief. Have you heard of that term, Skye?"

She gazed at me with the air of an Englishman listening to a Dutch conversation.

"It is English, you know." My remark seemed to unsettle her, and she was no longer curious, but rather mortified and haughty.

"Well I'm sorry I don't have the brain capacity of an alien, Kar-tay-on," she snapped, turning her face away from me.

I seemed to have lost my audience.

I tapped her on the shoulder, and she responded in an aggravated manner.

"Skye, have I offended you?" I asked.

"Yes, yes you have!" She flipped back to her right shoulder and continued speaking. "I'm saying this because you haven't been here for very long: People on Earth...People my age, they don't talk like this! They don't use huge vocabulary words like you do! And it's normal not to understand things like 'suspension of disbelief', okay?"

She received a few moments of silence, before I spoke again.

"I will remember that, Skye."

"Okay." She nodded curtly and inclined her head, an indication that I would be allowed to continue.

An explanation of the term that had annoyed her teetered upon my tongue. I attempted to swallow it, but could not help myself. "Suspension-of-disbelief-means-the-act-of-one-ignoring-the-limits-of-sensible-possibility."

I said it quickly, hoping she would not mind. She nodded stiffly.

"Can you please continue?"

"Yes, of course. It was the very beginning of time and space, hardly anything existed. The legend portrays a character named Quetzalir. As you call the center and very core of Earth Mother Earth, we call Quetzalir 'Father Quetz'."

Skye stifled a giggle. I smiled softly. "It will take some time to allow yourself to permit Father Quetz into existence, but yes, that is what Quettles call him."

"What did he look like?"

"There was barely any difference in his appearance from ours. Quettles are the only remaining descendants of the species Quetzalir belonged to. It is true that there are minor alterations, differences, between the two: Our fins, yes, these are our fins..." I paused and allowed them to appear. "You name them 'spikes', which, in appearance, is true. But we are from a long line of species, and in the very beginning, Quetzalir had shark-like fins protruding from his back. Our own have hardened over time, and now, we have the ability to hide them at will. Father Quetz did not. His hands were webbed, like that of a frog's, and he too, could swim through space at will.

"There he was, wandering through weightlessness, exhausted, fatigued, on his Fiskor-" I held up a finger when Skye opened her mouth. "A Fiskor, is now an animal, native to our planet. They are space-swimmers, if directly translated from our language. They are four-legged, and seem to...How to describe this, I do not know. One can only truly experience the fluent movement of the Fiskor, Fiski, in plural. It seems as though the paddle through space; their feet are made for such movements. Fiski have two curved fins on their back, that act like uncomfortable seats. They have a tail not unlike that of a fish, and long necks." I paused, allowing Skye time to imagine the Fiskor.

"But if erm...Father Quetz could swim through space, why did he need a Fiskor?"

"May I ask a question as well?" I said politely.

"Um, sure."

"Humans are able to walk, no? Why do you need cars, or horses, then, to journey?"

Skye understood the point I made. She nodded. "Do they have scales? The Fiski, I mean."

"Yes, they do. But this particular Fiskor, the steed, if you will, of Quetzalir, had hardly any scales left. They had battled on their own planet, which I have to assume led to the destruction of their species. The story does not include any more details of Quetzalir's past.

"He wandered, pondering to himself, how meaningless this all was. There they were, floating through space, absolutely nothing in sight. Not a single space rock-" I reached out and held my hand against Skye's mouth. "And I am aware that they are called asteroids, but I am directly translating this story from the ancient legend."

"So, yes. It seemed as though they were the only living beings left in the entire galaxy, in existence, even. But then, then a miracle happened."

I turned onto my back and gazed at the little plastic stars Skye had on the ceiling of her bedroom. "A miracle..."

"Ice, lit with white fire, shot past Quetzalir and his Fiskor. Shot past, and kept flying. Quetzalir made a decision to follow it. He pulled on the front fin of his Fiskor and reeled it about, urging it to make haste, and follow the comet."

Skye opened her mouth with yet another objection. "I don't think comets are made out of ice."

"Please Skye, do not interrupt. Suspend your disbelief until the end of my story, all right? Quetzalir and his steed swam after the comet for sixty pirons, following the trail of cold fire, and once they had finally managed to track down the comet, they were very near to the edge of space."

"What's a piron?"

"Piron, is the unit Quettles use to measure time that passes. On Earth, sixty pirons would be thirty days. Perhaps a month, of no rest, no stopping on the Fiskor's part. They do make very tough carriers. Quetzalir's Fiskor, he named it Taerik, when they had finished the journey, but we are not there quite yet.

"The very edge of space...What does it look like? Words can only describe so much. There was a star nearby, very near to where the comet was, perched upon a flat, considerably smooth piece of space rock. Quite impossible, no? Asteroids are always rather ugly. Bumps and indents, holes and broken bits and pieces. They pass by Quetz quite often. But there it was, the ball of cold fire, lying buried in the midst of an asteroid, floating ever closer to the star. Glowing red, with fiery tongues of scorching flame dancing and reaching out for food. What happened next is beyond what I am able to describe. I have only witnessed such an event once in my life. The star, it swelled. Swelled until it could expand no more. Quetzalir reined his Fiskor in, afraid of what would happen next. The star inflated, until it simply popped. Exploded. It exploded, and shrunk down to the size of about this big," I said, holding up my hands, keeping them two feet away from each other.

Skye nodded, completely entranced. "And? What happened next?"

"The explosion sent waves upon waves of pure energy rocketing in all directions. Quetzalir, upon Taerik, staggered and was blasted back. It scorched them both, burning their very skin. The very universe seemed like it was being unraveled, destroyed, and pushed back until it disappeared almost completely. Of course, no such thing happened. I was speaking metaphorically. When the last waves of energy dispersed and vanished, Quetzalir was beaten and weathered until the last energy from his bones was sapped from him, and he lay, even more exhausted than ever, upon Taerik, who was equally close to death.

"And then, another miracle. To Quetzalir, finding the comet and following it was a miracle in itself, already. Imagine his astonishment when the white dwarf, the star that had inflated then deflated, floated to Quetzalir, then melted completely into his body. It compelled him to move to the dying comet, compelled him to lead his Fiskor to do one last task before all life left them.

"With the star inside of him, he created the planet that is now our home. His blood, he poured into the few gaps that remained upon the asteroid, the withering scales of his Fiskor he planted in the dirt and debris. He did much more, but his tasks have been lost through the pirons. The elders of my race remember the ending, however, and I remember it clearly as well. In the final seconds of Quetzalir's life, he lay himself, and Taerik, upon the comet, the star dispersed from his body, taking with it the remains of the energy it had lent, and as the final moment came upon Quetzalir, he uttered a single sentence with his last breath of air: Kartiyn ina Galxan, guae zi yonei ina Geiqarth ryk un.."