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Micah Newsom nervously twined his long lavender hair around his finger as he watched the planet with the same color dusted over its surface grow closer and closer outside the two-inch thick plexiglass of the EGA shuttle.
He had been told countless times already that yes, the Earth Galactic Alliance was sure he was the best man for the job. Yes, his scientific breakthroughs, all the more impressive given his young age at twenty-two, had thoroughly convinced them that he was the xenobiologist most equipped to ensure first contact with the Kalosians ended in Phaedrus and the others being able to negotiate a peaceful partnership between humanity and the first other sentient spacefaring species they discovered on their voyages throughout the universe. But he still felt like he wasn’t worthy to be inside the tiny craft headed for the surface of Kalos-4. Sure, he was the youngest ever graduate from the EGA Spacefaring Academy’s xenofauna research track, and there was that one little thing he’d figured out in his thesis paper on pack behavior in the Osinnou of Tolin-3 that had revolutionized views of social dynamics among predatory species, but he wasn’t that qualified.
Micah was about to go over to Phaedrus and ask them once again if they were sure they wanted him to be the one going out with them, but they were in the middle of practicing what they would say when they met the Kalosian envoy.
“We come in peace as representatives of the planet Earth,” their deep, melodic voice rang out clearly, not something that should have been boxed in by the small white walls of the shuttle. Phaedrus Powell. Even their name made them sound larger than life, like some kind of superhero. The figure they cut in the close-fitting spacesuit they wore, broad back and wide, rounded shoulders, only added to the image. Their tightly coiled hair, short and close to their head, made them look charismatic, like a face you’d see on news holos. “If you are amenable– no, too guessy. Let us know when you have a representative available to communicate our message to your leaders.”
At Phaedrus’ side, Asma Haqqani monitored the string of harsh, consonant-heavy syllables the tiny spherical device in her palm spat out every time the negotiator spoke, ensuring they matched the expected translation. Her hijab was light gray, matching her spacesuit, which was the same model the rest of them wore. Asma had been the one to take the intercepted transmission from the Kalosians and use it to decode their language, enabling the EGA to send delegates who could actually achieve verbal communication. That’s what qualified looked like.
But as they entered the pink haze of Kalos-4’s atmosphere, Micah’s sense of his own unreadiness was eclipsed by a sudden rush of excitement. A previously undiscovered intelligent species, with their own society and customs! It was a xenobiologist’s dream, and even if he believed himself unworthy of the honor, the thought birthed a joy and excitement that went off like a starburst in his chest.