The Sheriff of Yrnameer by Michael Rubens Page A

collecting fat paychecks from Vericom, there through some make-work program as a sop to the local government. They supposedly had administrative duties on the satellite, but as far as Charlie could tell those duties consisted of gambling, chewing qhag, and muttering behind your back about you in Grey.
    “What can I do you for, Fred?”
    There was a pause while Fred listened to his AT before answering.
    “I nothing more want want fresh buds new rain confirm yes,” said Charlie’s AT.
    “Yes, Fred, everything’s going smoothly. No problems.”
    “Soaring swallows golden skies.” Fred was happy to hear it.
    Except he was still standing there, unmoving, watching Charlie with those disconcertingly expressionless eyes. Oh, God, Charlie thought, we’re gonna have another staring session, with Fred standing stock-still and observing him for several minutes.
    He sighed. Be nice to the Greys, his bosses told Charlie. Win their hearts and minds, they said, or hearts and minds and hearts and hearts, in deference to the Greys’ unusual circulatory systems. God knows Charlie was trying, but the Greys didn’t make it easy.
    And it’s not like the Greys were that fond of humans to begin with. They looked almost exactly like the ancient human stereotype of aliens: gray skin; large egg-shaped heads dominated by big, almond-shaped eyes; tiny ears and noses; long slender limbs and fingers. But as far as anyone could tell it was sheer coincidence, because no Grey had ever visited Earth—the Greys didn’t have any advanced technology to speak of until after Earth was gone.
    Which would have remained nothing more than a fascinating and improbable fluke, but for the fact that the Greys just happened to develop the skill to capture and analyze electromagnetic waves precisely at the time when certain signals originating from Earth were finally reaching the Greys’ home planet, carrying with them some rather insulting television programs and movies.
    From somewhere in the ship came a deep rumble, and then a staccato trill that might have sounded like small-arms fire. Fredinclined his big head slightly toward the noise, then back to Charlie, who hadn’t reacted.
    “Well, thanks for stopping by, Fred,” said Charlie. He took another bite of his breakfast.
    Fred watched him. Charlie thought he detected a hint of alarm.
    “Are the angry dangerous hail-lizards absent?” asked Fred.
    Charlie hadn’t heard this one before. “I’m sorry?” he said.
    Fred squinted in concentration. He said as well as he could in New English, “Eezsh evurthinguh oh-uu-kayee?”
    Charlie smiled. “Yes, Fred, everything is okay,” he said.
    Fred displayed the subtle adjustment of his thin, lipless mouth that Charlie knew represented a smile. “Oh-uh-kayee,” said Fred. “Thang you-wah. Goo bai’-.”
    Charlie smiled back and waved, controlling his laugh at the extra
boing
that Fred had added at the end.
    After Fred left, Charlie went back to his breakfast, wondering why there hadn’t been any contact from HQ for the past few days. Something was niggling at him, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. “Computer?” he said out loud into the room.
    “Hi Charlie!” came the response. “Wow! That’s a pretty sunrise!”
    This was new.
    “Uh … yes, I suppose it is.”
    “It’s really pretty!”
    “Yes.”
    “Really! Don’t you think it’s pretty? I think it’s pretty.”
    “Huh,” said Charlie slowly. As far as he remembered, the ‘puter had never addressed him as Charlie, or evinced any sort of personality at all. Charlie hated when they updated the emulation software without asking.
    “Umm, computer, has there been any further contact from HQ?”
    “Lemme check on that for you, Charlie.”
    Brief pause.
    “Okay, here’s the thing,” began the ‘puter. “As far as I can tell—”
    Charlie was aware that the ‘puter was talking, but he found his mind wandering, the computer’s voice transforming into a mushy