He lay without moving, eyes shut, doing nothing except breathing.
If there was one thing he’d always hated, it was water. Water and everything in it. Even seeing a goldfish swimming around and around and around in a bowl gave him the shivers. He would never eat fish. Once, when he was a kid, he’d started to eat a piece of fish and found himself chewing a mouthful of bones, tiny and sharp, which impaled themselves in his gums and tongue and throat.
Norton kept breathing, breathing and thinking.
He shouldn’t have moved, shouldn’t have splashed, shouldn’t have shouted for Grawl. Sound travelled faster under water than on land, and who knew what alien creatures inhabited the deeps beneath? A school of deadly fish could be swimming a yard below him at this very moment.
Was that what had happened to Grawl? Had he been swallowed by an alien whale?
Was this to be Norton’s own fate? He’d been born over three centuries ago, crossed half the galaxy, and his ultimate destiny was to become fish food?
No, of course nothing was going to eat him. Even if a whole college of piranha sharks swam by, Norton was equally as alien to them. Alien and inedible. But they wouldn’t find out how bad he tasted until they’d sampled a few bites.
How far was he from land? How long until the tide cast him ashore? Was there any land?
He could be adrift on an endless ocean, a sea which covered the whole planet. (What was the difference between a sea and an ocean?) Or maybe it was just a lake, although that could make it the size of Lake Superior. Or perhaps this might only be a pond. (And when did a pond become a lake?)
It made no difference. He couldn’t swim, so he could float here forever. There was water all around him, but none to drink. It was far too saline, and already he was thirsty because of the liquid he’d accidentally swallowed.
He opened his mouth and put his tongue out to catch the drops of rain. It was fresh water. He gazed at the orange sky, and the rain was cool and soothing on his sore eyes, but it would take a long time to quench his thirst. That was all Wayne Norton had: time.
How much time? The water was lukewarm, so he wasn’t going to die of cold. Which meant he’d die of something else.
While he was considering the possibilities, he felt something beneath the surface brush against his leg.
“Ahhhhh!”
He yelled out in surprise and fear, then became silent, not wanting whatever it was to hear him.
But it was too late. Only a few feet away from him, the water bubbled, and an ugly red head surfaced above the waves.
Norton gasped in horror as a pair of huge crimson eyes gazed at him. The creature’s mouth opened, wide, and orange water dripped from its sharpened teeth. Norton’s heart stopped.
“Good afternoon, sir or madam,” said the hideous sea monster. “Isn’t it a lovely day?”
A talking fish. A talking alien fish.
Norton’s heart resumed its beat, but it had lost all sense of rhythm and hammered away at double time.
“Let’s hope the rain lasts,” added the talking fish.
“Yeah,” Norton managed to say. “Yeah.”
“I came as soon as your ship was observed, sir or madam,” the aquatic alien continued. “I do hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long.”
“Er… no,” said Norton, as he stared at it. “You… you’re speaking English!”
“I’m sorry, sir or madam,” said the creature, “I don’t know that word.”
Norton didn’t have a slate, and he was sure the fish wasn’t using one. With a slate, the original sound could always be heard in the background, with a louder translation superimposed. Here, the alien’s lips were synchronised with what Norton actually heard. This meant it was speaking English, or the twenty-third century fastspeak variant. Away from their planet, Earth people were known as Terrans. So was their language.
But if this sea creature could speak Terran, did that mean Norton was back on Earth? Was that how a lifeboat functioned? It returned its occupants to their native world?
All Norton could see of the piscine beast was its head and neck, both of which were covered in red scales. Water cascaded down the ridges of its skull, there were fins where it should have had ears, and on either side of its throat was a series of gills.
He studied the alien, wondering if perhaps it wasn’t one. Could it be some kind of mutant, a cross between a human and an animal? Dolphins were supposed to be smart. Was this a biomodified dolphin?
“What’s the name of this world?” asked Norton.
“Caphmiaultrelvossmuaf, sir or madam.”
“Do you have twenty-four hours in a day, three hundred and sixty-five days to a year?”
“No, sir or madam, this is a very backward planet. We don’t have days on Caphmiaultrelvossmuaf. Not yet.”
“Does everyone here speak… er… speak the language you are now speaking?”
“No, sir or madam, not yet. My learning has been fast-tracked so I can greet visitors. And you are my first visitor, sir or madam.”
“Forget the ‘madam,’ just call me ‘sir.’ Okay?”
“Sir, okay.”
“You’re here to greet me?”
“Yes, sir, I already told you that. As soon as your ship was seen, I was assigned to you.”
“You mean you’re here to take me to dry land?”
“No, sir. I’m only here to greet you. Oh dear. Silly me. I forgot.”
The alien vanished, its head sinking beneath the waves. A second or two later it was back, streams of water pouring from its cranial crevasses.
“Welcome to Caphmiaultrelvossmuaf, sir,” said the alien. “The owners and management hope you have an enjoyable and profitable vacation, and may I add my own sincere personal welcome as a statistically typical inhabitant of this warm and friendly global paradise.”
“Yeah, er, thanks.”
“If you have any questions, sir, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“You’re here because my ship was seen landing? No, not landing, but…” Norton shook his head, trying to think of an appropriate word, then wished he hadn’t. More salty water sloshed all over his face as his head moved, and he spat out yet another mouthful.
“Yes, sir,” agreed the alien.
“Have you found anyone else in the water?”
“No, sir. Is there another guest?”
Norton thought of his ex-shipmate. Perhaps he was still trapped in the lifeboat. If so, it was too late. Grawl would certainly have drowned by now.
“No, no,” said Norton. “I was just wondering how many guests arrive the way I did.”
“You’re my first guest, sir. Have you any other questions?”
The alien kept watching him. Norton glanced around, looking for a topic of conversation. But there was only water, red water.
“Why is everything red?” he asked.
“I’m no expert, sir,” said the scaled tour guide, “but I believe it’s partly because of a spectral anomaly in the axial coefficient of light refraction, partly because of the very high aqueous distribution ratio, and partly because of a unique mineral oxide which is held in suspension in every drop of water on the planet.”
“Yeah,” said Norton, “that’s what I thought.”
“I couldn’t help noticing, sir…”
“Noticing what?”
“And I do hope you won’t mind if I mention the fact, sir, but…”
“Mention what?”
“I’m aware, sir, that the most considerate guest will try to fit in with the customs and habits of the planet he or she is visiting, and obviously this is what you believe your good self to be doing.”
This was a fish. There was no reason why he should have understood it, but Norton had to ask, “What are you talking about?”
“You’re not wearing any clothes, sir. We on Caphmiaultrelvossmuaf may not be very advanced by your standards, but we’re quickly becoming more civilised. May I demonstrate, sir?”