One of the many early miscommunications when the humans first started to contact the galactic alliance: Alien expresses interest that human is still alive having broken one or more bones, slightly dense human gets the wrong end of the stick entirely and now half the camp thinks people with injuries like that are killed, because why else would something like a trifling broken arm mean you die?
Susan was learning what many in the new proto-city of Wiwazheer were calling Chickenese. Grey Chicken -aka Trekker- was learning English. Many things, she was sure, were getting lost in the translation.
She was hauling Jaime back to Central - literally the centre of town - to get his arm properly set when Trekker invited itself along and lit on the back of Calico.
“You is preparing dead?”
She answered in Chickenese. “No. Friend no dead. Friend hurt, me taking for help.”
“…’m s'posed'a see little birds,” Jaime mumbled. “‘ey izzat Grey Chicken?”
“Yup. That’s Grey Chicken. Says zir name is Trekker. Trekker, this friend naming Jaime.”
“He is living? Me am seeing fall. Me am hearing bone crack.”
“Friend breaking bone in arm. We is fixing.”
“Us folk breaking bone, us folk dead,” said Trekker in confusion.
Susan did not have the words to ask, Do they kill you or do you just die? That was a question for the doctors in Central, who had Trekker’s DNA on file. All the same, an APB concerning being careful with projectiles around the alien bird would be wise.
And a solid plan to save the bird’s life should the unthinkable happen.
Susan got the impression that Trekker was trying to protect Wiwazheer and all the humans therein from some menace outside of their current experience. Though it was hard to imagine a species of warlike birds if they died from a broken bone.
Now was not the time to judge. Now was the time to take notes and, at the earliest opportunity, run like hell for the xenobiology labs to ask interesting questions.
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