The Mekeer: Yenaa
by Marc Fiszman
Posted: 00:15 September 3, 2008
In this third article in the Mekeer series, extraterrestrial specialist Marc Fiszman visits the aliens' home world, Yenaa, and learns of his mission.
Representation of the planet Yenaa and her two moons attached
I was horribly, violently sick, expelling a succession of foreign bodies much more alien to me than anything I had encountered so far. The experience was so weird, so utterly unusual, that I barely felt a part of it, separating from myself and watching as this other collapsed, heaving and vomiting a multicolored mess across the white ground. Even during my worst reactions to a clam allergy, I had never seen such things come from myself, and wouldn't believe they could come from another until I witnessed a similar scene a couple of years later.
Suddenly, I was thrust back into myself, bursting into physical sensation. The last of the stuff poured out in a torrent as a hacking cough burned through my chest and throat. I felt like the wind had been knocked from me in a powerful rugby tackle, and I squeezed the person's hand I was holding as I fought to catch my breath. The taste in my mouth was disgusting.
"It has almost passed," the soothing voice said. It was the Prophet, Kodahr. It was his hand I held.
"What the…" I managed, before another coughing fit took me.
"It is from the Welcome," he said. "An extreme reaction, but not unprecedented. We will have to adjust the itinerary."
I released his hand and spat out more crap, shocked by the foulness of these stinking, rainbow blobs, but already starting to experience the wonderful relief which follows a vomiting session. There is nothing worse than confronting the inevitability of the thing, and nothing better than passing through it.
I slowly pushed myself up, sitting back on my heels as the room returned to my vision. I, Kodahr and his two assistants had been making our way to what the Prophet called an orbital, a far, far smaller craft which would take us to the Mekeer's home planet, Yenaa, the misty, purple world I'd spotted earlier. We'd been navigating a particularly busy stretch of hallway when I'd started to feel queasy, and as we passed through a silver panel, the explosion had come.
The room was small and white, similar to all the others I'd seen. A woman in half profile sat at a black console off to the side, running her hands across its surface as the planet Yenaa rotated in her screen, a network of shapes set around it. She became aware that I was watching her and briefly looked over with a shy smile, before returning to her work. I was struck by the purity of her pale white beauty, the shining black hair, and the full red lips. A flush of color came to her cheeks, and then quickly faded away. I felt my own face redden as I thought of the outburst she had just witnessed.
I was feeling much better now, making an unusually rapid recovery. The pain in my chest had just about passed, my breathing was regular, and the awful taste no more than a fast retreating memory. I couldn't resist inspecting my dire product, but when I looked down, there was nothing there. Just the spotless white ground.
"Come," Kodahr said, helping me to my feet, "the orbital is here."
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