A globe-shaped Verdante space ship dropped out of warp space into the star system of its home planet. Gigantic alien M. Hoyvil sat next to Earthling Antaska on a round sofa in one of the four space-viewing rooms located around the ship’s equator. Their seats were reclined all the way back, and the tiny cat Potat lay on her back between them.
“We’ll be on the home planet in a few more hours, so I should probably tell you some more about my species,” M. Hoyvil said to Antaska.
“Sure,” said Antaska. “I’d like to hear more about the Verdantes.”
“Well, first of all, you’ll notice that all the females will get off the ship on the home planet. They won’t get back on when we leave on the big trip to unknown space. We don’t allow our females to travel in space for safety reasons,” M. Hoyvil explained. “But don’t worry. We can take Earth females along because it’s not dangerous for them to travel with us.”
There was a lot more to it than that. The danger in space was for females who were telepathic, but M. Hoyvil didn’t want to explain that for some reason. He just didn’t want to think about it.
Antaska and Potat will be safe with me, no matter what, he told himself.
“Anyway,” M. Hoyvil went on, “we’ll be on the Verdante planet for a week. We’ll stay at the residence of my primary gene contributors, Master Meeepp and Mistress Bawbaw. You’ll meet some of their Earthling companions while we’re there.”
“That sounds good,” said Antaska.
“I won’t be around at night,” M. Hoyvil told her. “We’re only there a week, and all the males are gone for a hundred years. So they have these social events whenever we’re home. They’re really important. I hope you won’t be bored.”
“No. I understand, and I won’t be bored,” said Antaska. “Besides, I’ll have Potat with me.”
Potat purred loud in between them.
A few hours later, the ship approached the Verdante planet.
M. Hoyvil pointed out the two bright stars of his planet’s binary solar system to Antaska. One was yellow, one was red. The stars grew ever larger and closer. The yellow star started to look less like a twinkly dot and more like the Earth sun Antaska was used to—a bright yellow circle surrounded by glowing light.
“I should warn you that sometimes Earthlings are disturbed by their first sight of our second star, the red giant,” M. Hoyvil told Antaska as that star loomed closer. “Because humans are used to seeing a small yellow dwarf as the largest object in their sky.”
Antaska looked out at the large red sun. M. Hoyvil was right. It was impressive, and she might have been scared if he hadn’t given her the warning.
“Next, you’ll see the ten planets in our binary solar system come into view,” said M. Hoyvil. “That one’s the home planet.”
He pointed at the planet with his large, six-fingered hand, and Antaska stared at their next destination. At first, the Verdante planet looked like a bright green gem. Then it increased in size until small mountains, oceans, and other features were visible. It looked similar to the cloud-decorated land and water masses of Earth when seen from space.
But when the space ship penetrated the planet’s atmosphere and slowed to approach, it was clear that this planet was larger than Earth and much greener.
They entered the planet’s gravity well. The lounge they were in was now sideways relative to the ground they were heading toward. It was like they were lying on the side of a wall. But the ship’s artificial gravity kept them from falling. Antaska felt a wave of dizziness.
Then the floor of the room began a slow rotation to one side. The change was gradual and gentle, but Antaska was glad she was lying down on the couch instead of standing up while this was happening. She noticed Potat’s claws digging into the fabric of her ship suit.
“It’s OK,” Antaska tried to reassure her.
“Oh, right. I forgot to warn you about that too,” said M. Hoyvil.
“I guess we’ll forgive you this time,” Antaska heard Potat say telepathically.
To distract herself from the rotating room, Antaska looked for buildings, but she couldn’t find any. She saw only green-covered lands, water bodies, and some areas of rock and sand. On their final approach, there wasn’t a single humanoid-made structure in sight. Giant trees loomed up large in the wide view seen from the transparent bubble.
“Many of our planet’s trees grow to over 500 feet tall, far past the height of Earth’s tallest redwoods,” M. Hoyvil explained.
At last, the floor stabilized parallel to the approaching ground.
“Do you want to go over to the side to look down and see where we’ll be landing?” M. Hoyvil asked. “It’s a cool view if you’re not scared of heights.”
“I’ll go,” said Potat telepathically.
M. Hoyvil picked up Potat and put her on his shoulder.
“I’ll look too,” said Antaska.
They walked to the outer edge of the room’s clear bubble. Straight down below them, a round, paved area grew larger as the ship sunk down toward its landing platform.
Of all the areas of the planet Antaska seen so far, only this area had a flat concrete surface with no plant life at all. Rising from, parked on, or landing on this surface were vast numbers of round Verdante space ships of various sizes.
A gigantic stone statue of a tree dominated the center of the enormous circle. It was even bigger than the largest living trees Antaska had seen from above.
“What’s that?” Antaska asked M. Hoyvil, pointing at the stone tree.
“That statue is a memorial,” said M. Hoyvil. “It’s for all the trees and plants that died a million years ago when my species first came to this planet. In their ignorance, they killed most of the natural life in this area. Do you want me to tell you the story? I have to warn you that many Earthlings have trouble accepting this, and sometimes I have to admit that I feel the same way.”
“Yes, I’d like to hear the story,” said Antaska.
She was curious, and Potat stopped washing her face. She sat up straight and alert on M. Hoyvil’s shoulder and looked toward him.
“The trees on this planet are sentient. They don’t talk to me, but the adults claim to understand them,” he said. “And this is the story they tell. When the Verdantes first settled on this planet, we weren’t evolved enough to understand the speech of the trees. We cut down many of them, and we built wood and concrete buildings on the land.
“After many generations of living here, some of my ancestors claimed to hear humming sounds and whispering voices in their heads. At first, everyone thought these people were crazy. No one listened to them. But as time went on, more and more people heard the sounds and voices. Finally, people of all ages could hear the humming, and the adults could hear the voices as well. They stopped denying the voices were real and started to listen.
“The voices identified themselves as the large trees that grow on this planet. They said they were long-lived sentient beings, rooted to one spot by their physical manifestation as plants. They forgave us for killing their people, but they asked us to stop. We could build our homes underground where no sentient life would be killed. Fortunately, our population was small at that time, and we hadn’t killed any trees outside of this area.
“Since then, this spot has been a dead zone. It’s the only place on the planet where no life grows or will ever grow. The trees let us use it as a landing port. And we built this statue from the first stones that we dug up to build our new underground homes.
“So each time we take off or return from a trip to space, we see this monument. It’s supposed to remind us of the harm we can cause if we don’t understand the other species we find,” M. Hoyvil said as he finished speaking.
Then, without any bumps or jerks, the space ship came to a smooth stop. They had arrived.