Ichabod Ebenezer's Blog, page 12

Terms

Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay



The man in the three-piece suit pulled the disposable booties over his Oxfords

and stepped out into the mist and damp leaves. He followed his phone’s GPS another several hundred feet past the road.

A light flashed, only for an instant, but a dozen times
brighter than the sun. The man’s gloved hand came up, shielding his face. His
eyes adjusted to the darkness, but the leaves on the surrounding trees sizzled
at the edges, embers slowly fading in the damp forest night.

A shape moved in the darkness, impossibly large, a blur
amidst the fog. It came closer, resolving into something humanoid. Twin
searchlights of piercing anger swept across the forest and came to rest on the
man.

“Did you enjoy your trip?” the man asked, folding his charred glove under his arm as he crossed them.

The creature reared back and slammed its fists against the
barrier. The thundering reverberation blew the man’s hair back.

“Not one for pleasantries, I see,” the man said and coughed.
“The box. Yes, it was a necessity, because of course, you haven’t paid yet.
Interstellar travel is not cheap, and while my employer may sympathize with
your cause, she does not run a charity.”

The creature pressed against the forcefield which began to hum in higher and higher pitch.

“You won’t be able to break through, but if you keep trying,
I’ll just send you back.” To demonstrate, the man’s finger hovered over a
button on his phone marked ‘flush.’

The creature put down its arms, and its eyes faded to a cool
blue. The man’s phone vibrated, and he read off the psychic transliteration of
the alien’s thought. “Terms.”

“Ah. I’m glad you asked.” He produced a scroll from his
breast pocket and unfurled it across the space between them.

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