“I’m ready, now that I have finished my interchange devices.” Poxoti made a sound deep in her throat that Sarat knew was a laugh. “I can’t wait to give Tonopex his set.”

  Sarat couldn’t help but smile. “I’d like to see his expression when you do. Phila, what are the sensors reading in our chamber?”

  “Arth normal. I will check again as we approach.” Phila looked at her hand-held and added more data. “Are you allowing Ed to join us this time?”

  Sarat sighed. “Yeah, I better.”

  “Damn right, you better.” Ed leaned against the wall behind Phila.

  Phila rolled her eyes. “Get your damn suit on and be in the airlock. You’ve got five minutes.”

  “Five?” Ed stuttered, backing out of the room.

  “Isn’t that enough?” asked Sarat.

  Ed blinked a couple times, then ran from engineering.

  Poxoti picked up her interchange devices and walked out, ducking under the doorway. Phila and Sarat followed. The process of changing into space suits took nearly ten minutes. Most of that time consisted of safety checks. When Sarat entered the airlock, everyone was already there.

  After thirty minutes of trekking through the derelict’s belly, they stood in the cramped section between the old airlock and the new.

  Sarat nodded. “Poxoti, open the airlock.”

  “Why her?” Ed placed his hands on his hips in protest. “You didn’t even know about this ship until I hired you.”

  “Go ahead, Ed.” Poxoti encouraged. “I don’t mind.”

  Ed reached up for the round handle. It was over his head and difficult to manipulate. He jumped to grab a higher section only to hang from the handle.

  Sarat sighed. “I asked Poxoti because she is much taller and stronger than any of us.”

  “Especially me,” piped up Low.

  Poxoti gave Phila a high-five.

  “Fabulous.” Ed sulked off to the side.

  Poxoti grasped the handle with all four arms and heaved. She tried twisting it one way then the other. Eventually, the metal locking mechanism failed, and the door became free, but it didn’t open. Poxoti pulled on the handle, and the hinges screamed with resistance. The door jittered violently as it reluctantly opened. The telltale hiss of air pressure conversion was barely audible. Everyone climbed through, and Poxoti pulled the old airlock closed. The door wouldn’t seal. It hung crooked on its hinges. “I thought this might happen.” Poxoti examined it. “I might be able to fix it.”

  “I’m reading close to Arth normal,” Phila said.

  Sarat turned away from the door. “What the hell?”

  “Where is the second airlock?” Poxoti asked.

  They stood on a metal catwalk looking out onto a jungle. Trees that could rival those on any planet were growing in the middle of the derelict. The sun’s reddish rays flowed through small square windows in the ceiling. Hoots and hollers of wildlife or people came to their ears.

  “This explains why the derelict was tipped to have the top of the ship point to the sun.” Phila’s voice came across the speakers. “Over here, there’s a way down.” Near Phila was a hill large enough to reach the catwalk they stood on.

  Sarat looked at the lush greenish-blue landscape. Rolling hills covered in grasses and a forest of trees, some forty feet tall. “Um, where did all this come from. The dirt? The trees?”

  “Oh crap, oh crap.” Ed was pulling down the helmet visor. “Do not do that.” He shook his head.

  “Don’t do what, Ed?” Sarat asked.

  “Phila said the air was close to Arth normal, and it looked so beautiful. I opened my helm to experience everything, including the smell.” Ed shook his head. “I don’t recommend it. All I can smell is rot and death. I think I caught some in my nose hairs. I can still smell it.” Ed slapped at his helm in frustration.

  “Do you see that?” Poxoti stood her full height and pointed toward the crowns of the trees. “I see movement.” She stepped forward, taking long graceful strides. The others had to jog to remain at her side.

  Sarat scooped up Low as her small stature and delicate limbs struggled to keep pace with the tall Velox. “Thank you, captain,” Low said as she climbed onto his shoulder.

  Structural metal protruded from the canopy and touched the ceiling like grotesque skeletal fingers. It appeared as if floors and walls of the ship were removed to create this terrarium, but the supporting pillars were untouched. Sarat pointed. “Looks like the bones of the ship are all that remains. What happened to all the other materials?”

  Poxoti slowed and looked around. “Probably reinforcement of the walls and floor.”

  “Anything like the piece-of-crap airlock we came through?” asked Phila.

  Poxoti stopped and swore in Velox. “If the sounds we heard and those things moving in the trees are people, we need to get them out of here before this garden is lost to space. My airlock isn’t much better than theirs. I need to fix their airlock before we can leave.”

  “We’re going to find out quickly,” called Low from Sarat’s shoulder. “It appears that giant hairy spiders are swinging in the trees, and they’re headed in this direction.”

  Hundreds, maybe thousands of brown hairy spider-like monkeys swung through the treetops coming closer to the Hindsight crew. The bulbous round bodies moved with such speed and agility it was difficult to count the limbs or find the heads and faces of the creatures. Eventually, they stopped their approach and waited, hanging half-hidden in the canopy. Finally, a single creature moved forward, throwing itself to the ground, and appeared to roll toward them. As it approached, it was apparent that the roundish creature was walking. It used a set of appendages that sprouted from the top of the body and curled around and under.

  Suddenly the creature turned around, and its face appeared. For some reason, it had walked to the group backward. As it looked at the surprised faces of everyone, it began to laugh in a pleasing manner. Other appendages on its head pointed at the Hindsight crew, and it continued to laugh.

  “Low, is it talking? It sounds like laughter.” Sarat looked upward to the communications specialist who remained on his shoulder.

  Low jumped to the ground and approached the laughing, hairy creature. Low contorted her slender flexible limbs to become shorter, to appear to be the same size. The creature’s face was roughly in the center of its round body. Its eyes, nose, and mouth were so similar to human in appearance that it was disconcerting. From the top of its body sprouted all eight appendages, six arms, and two antennae. Bellow its face was thicker, darker hair, a beard perhaps. Low turned on her external audio, with a twist of a knob on the gauntlet of her suit.

  Sarat watched as Low, and the creature talked. There seemed to be an argument or miscommunication happening. Low appeared confused. Sarat squatted next to Low and asked, “Is everything alright?”

  “I don’t understand what he is saying. There’s no logic to his ramblings.”

  “Can you translate? I will try.”

  Low pointed to Sarat and then said something to the creature. The creature said something to Low, then turned and looked at Sarat.

  He wants me to ask you, “What is brown and sticky?”

  Sarat turned on his external audio then puzzled it over. What did that question have to do with anything going on right now? Why not ask for a name? Or demand to know why the people from the Hindsight were standing in his terrarium. He frowned and then said to Low, “Tell him I don’t know.”

  “That is what I told him too.” Low tilted her head, studying the creature. “All he said in return was, ‘a stick’.”

  Sarat rolled it around in his head. What is brown and sticky? A stick. His father, Akash, often told horrible jokes, calling them dad jokes. Is that what the creature was doing? Telling jokes? Sarat smiled at the creature and then spoke to Low. “Please ask him if he is telling jokes.”

  “Jokes?” Low sighed, then shook her head as if disappointed in herself. She addressed the creature. From what she said, the creature became excited and pointed at Sarat with four hands. “He wants you to tell him a joke. I believe it’s how they greet each other.”

  Sarat looked to the others. “Do you know any jokes?”

  Ed laughed, slapping his leg. “I know one about a nun, a fisherman, and a horse. It goes something like this…”

  Phila slapped the back of Ed’s helmet. “Do you really think this creature is going to know what a horse or a nun is?” But that mattered little. The creature laughed and clapped, then pointed at Phila and Ed as if they had just performed the best slapstick he had ever seen.

  After he collected himself, the creature said something to Low, which she repeated. “Everyone, this is Kuahakwahobwabya. I believe his title is chieftain. He said to just call him Kuaha.” Low pointed at each of the Hindsight crew, starting with Sarat and ending with herself, telling Kuaha everyone’s name.

  The creature said something, and Low translated, “Kuaha wants us to meet his family.”

  Kuaha turned away and ambled toward the trees, where it seemed thousands of others waited. Low walked beside him, and they chatted.

  Sarat followed, walking next to Poxoti. “Sir, this garden is in immediate danger of collapse. We need to get these people out.” The Velox took slow short steps to keep pace with the captain.

  “What do you propose? Sarat asked. “We are down to one door on the airlock. We can’t leave without killing everyone.” The captain surveyed the small furry people. “They look so primitive. Do they even have spacesuits?”

  “We could use a couple cargo pods?” Poxoti offered. “With oxygen containers?”

  Sarat chuckled. “That’s not bad, but how would we get the pods in here? Then there is the question of getting these people to go into the pod and then getting the pod out.”

  “One problem at a time, Captain.” Poxoti looked down, lost in thought. “I wonder if they play zaxottix. With six arms, you couldn’t lose.”

  “You might be on to something. If they like jokes, they might like games too.” Sarat touched the leaves and fruit of a tree as they passed.

  Low and Kuaha stopped as a mass of creatures dropped from the trees. Kuaha introduced everyone and told more jokes. It seemed that no matter how many times a joke was said, it always produced a laugh, especially when Kuaha said them.

  After the joviality of greeting everyone wore off, Kuaha pulled Low to the side and directed her and the Hindsight crew to come with him to a large open hut built in the center of the terrarium. All around the hut were groups of people playing games, telling stories, and using hand puppets to entertain children. The youngsters laughed and rolled around during hilarious segments. The group came to the hut's center, and everyone else gathered at the edges, sitting quietly, expectantly.

  Kuaha welcomed them, calling each by name and pointing to them in turn. A murmur coursed through the audience. The chieftain sat on a stone then indicated the ground before him with a sweeping gesture. Sarat sat first, and the others took his lead. Kuaha clapped with all six hands. A servant appeared, walking on one set of hands and using the others to hold a huge tray filled with fruits and nuts. Kuaha took a small purple fruit then directed the servant to the people of the Hindsight.

  Sarat took a yellow cube-shaped fruit and set it in his lap, tapping his helmet as a way of apologizing for not eating it.

  Kuaha pointed to Low.

  As if on cue, Low looked at Sarat. “Chieftain Kuahakwahobwabya of the Wayward people wants to know why you have come.” Her voice changed subtly to indicate the next part wasn’t from the chieftain. “Be truthful and keep eye contact when you speak.”

  “We discovered your ship and thought it long deserted. We found the door to your terrarium and entered.” Sarat paused and waited for Low to translate, then continued. “We are concerned for your people. You must come to our ship before your walls fail and your people and trees die.”

  Kuaha raised the purple fruit to his antenna, then brought it to his mouth and popped it in. After a few moments, he spoke to Low, and she translated. “We can’t possibly come on your ship. Your breathing requirements are not the same as ours. Surely, you do not have enough helmets for all my people.”

  “We breathe the same air as you do,” Sarat assured him.

  “Why won’t you take off your helmets?”

  “Because the air on your ship stinks,” Sarat held the chieftain's eyes, as Low instructed.

  The chieftain smiled, holding his six arms wide as if he knew this would be the answer. As if all the chieftain’s hard work planning the foul air had been worth it.

  The audience laughed and laughed as if they had played the most elaborate practical joke in the existence of the universe.

  Low removed her helm. She breathed the air and seemed to smile. Sarat wasn’t surprised. The food she and San consumed had a distinctive rotten smell. To be polite, they often used an unscented paste on their leaves to absorb the nutrients they needed. But in their quarters, they could indulge.

  “You know the air stinks?” Sarat asked.

  “Yes, of course. The only way to produce enough food for the trees is to bury our dead and our waste within the roots. At first, it was difficult to encourage the trees to grow. We had many years of losses. But we survived. I am the sixth chieftain.”

  “We can bring you to safety. Will you leave with us?”

  “Better question.” Ed interrupted, turning on his external audio. “Will you let us salvage your ship?”

  “This is our home. We have no desire to leave.”

  “You will die here,” Sarat assured him. “The door to your terrarium was rusted almost through. The walls, floor, and ceiling can’t be doing much better.”

  “So be it. If that is the will of the Dome.” The group gathered in the hut seemed to murmur agreement.

  “I don’t want to wait until they die to salvage this ship.” Ed stood and stomped from the center. He was blocked by a group of the Wayward people, who wouldn’t let him pass.

  “Ed, sit your ass back down. This is not how diplomacy works. You insulted Chieftain Kuaha.” Sarat smiled at his only passenger. “It’s possible you will have to battle their best warrior…to the death.” The captain laughed at Ed’s discomfort.

  “Don’t even joke about that. We don’t know their customs. What if he takes you seriously?”

  “Sit down and shut up.”

  “A battle is a fabulous idea.” Kuaha rubbed three sets of his hands together vigorously. “It would be excellent entertainment and good for morale.”

  Sarat wondered if Kuaha planned on some kind of practical joke, or was he serious? The chieftain didn’t seem to care if his people died, so maybe he meant what he said. “If it is a battle you seek, may I suggest zaxottix?”

  “What is that?”

  “It is a game where speed and precision are the objectives. The more arms you have, the faster you can win.”

  Kuaha wiggled with excitement. The audience gasped at the idea of a new game. “I would like to play. I challenge the insolent one.” Kuaha pointed at Ed and grinned.

  “You could, chieftain. However, it would be a fast battle. It would not be a challenge. You would win. Playing zaxottix against a two-arm is not worthy of your time or skills.”

  Ed folded his arms over his chest as if he were actually upset with Sarat’s assessment of his zaxottix abilities.

  Kuaha remained motionless as if thinking. “Who is a worthy opponent?” He pointed to Poxoti as she had four arms. “Your companion Poxoti?” The Velox squirmed, not wanting the spotlight.

  “Poxoti would be a fine challenge for you. Four arms are far superior to two. However, that still gives you the advantage. I would like to suggest the Hindsight’s doctor, San. He has five arms, surely that still gives you the advantage, but it would be a worthy challenge.”

  One of Kuaha hands shook in disagreement. “Ah yes, but experience often wins.”

  “Agreed, chieftain. That would be the case if San had ever played zaxottix. But he has not.”

  Kuaha narrowed his eyes, and his fingers fidgeted with each other. “I don’t know if I believe you.”

  Sarat shrugged her shoulders. “It means nothing to me. We can leave you and your family and come back in ten years.”

  “Exactly!” Kuaha stood, pointing at Sarat. “You’re out nothing. What are your stakes?”

  Sarat thought for a moment. “If my champion San loses, then we will leave your people in peace. We will give you all the jokes we have, and you will know how to play a new game.” He paused. “If San wins, your people will leave this ship with transport to a safe location and forfeit your rights to this ship.”

  Kuaha’s hands fidgeted. “Agreed on one condition. If San wins, we bring young trees or fruit with us.”

  Sarat thought about the trees and the rot that feed them. “You can bring fruit. And if we lose, you can keep the game.”

  “Agreed.” Chieftain Kuaha seems satisfied.

  “Now we have a problem that perhaps you can correct.” Sarat nodded to Low. “Tell Kuaha how the airlock is broken, then ask if there is another access port.”

  The Chieftain and Low spoke for what seemed like hours. Finally, Low turned her attention to Sarat. “There are four airlocks total. The one we found. Another in the opposite wall from where we entered. One in the floor, long-buried. And one in the dome top, it’s partially covered by the canopy.”

  Sarat nodded then faced the Chieftain. “Kuaha, thank you for your hospitality. We shall return with the zaxottix game and San our challenger.” He turned to Low. “Would you please stay and continue to talk with Kuaha? Keep your helmet close, just in case.”

  Low agreed then translated for the chieftain.

  Sarat pointed to Poxoti, Phila, and Ed. “Follow me, there’s another airlock.” They walked away from the hut toward the opposite wall. High above the earth and grass was a mezzanine and a crude ladder to reach it.

  Poxoti crossed all four of her arms. “You better go first. I think my weight might cause that ladder to fail.”