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Ryezin
by Lucy Suitor Holt

For days the officials of Moon Lander, Amateur Space Study Explorations and Science (MOLASSES) buzzed with activity. Everyone wanted the honor of visiting a new planet. Finally, through a drawing, a member group, Bakers United for Nebulae Study (BUNS) was chosen for the job, mostly because they could quickly refurbish an old mothballed spacecraft used in their displays. They outfitted the craft with an extra booster rocket, hastily painted at the last minute with the BUNS logo – a chef's apron with crossed wooden spoons.

After a quick meeting, BUNS agreed to pick one astronaut, Lucas Whitbread, for the job. He had taken training but had to retire quietly before ever going into space. He found out he had a phobia of heights. BUNS calculated that he could be paid less than the going rate for an experienced government astronaut, and time was of the essence.

The strange radio waves recently detected by Still Searching for Extraterrestrial Intelligence (SSETI), and furious communications that followed, resulted in only Whitbread being qualified or available to go. The BUNS treasurer promised Whitbread there would be no portholes in the spacecraft and also promised to have a check waiting when he got back to Earth.

The information picked up by SSETI said that because of the slingshot influence of a passing comet, that a little planet named Ryezin had broken away from its own planetary system and was wobbling into temporary orbit around Earth's moon. The Ryezins said to hurry if Earthlings wanted to come and meet with them. They had no vehicles ready for space travel, but they could arrange a landing party if Earth could get a human to Ryezin. MOLASSES, and BUNS, had dreamed of such an exploration since their founding in 2020. They had confidence they could rise to the occasion and become Earth's first citizen space diplomats.

It took six months to ready the space craft and find the astronaut. Lucas Whitbread would have two whole days on Ryezin to deliver a carefully prepared speech and learn all he could. Notebooks and pens would be supplied so he could write down all he could, and one BUNS member suddenly remembered to add a camera to the supplies. After two days, Ryezin would wobble out of orbit, so Whitbread would have to whip out into space and back to Earth or be caught on the tiny planet. Communication would be difficult at best because of new solar flares and ancient radio equipment. The best they could do was a cell phone with limited minutes.

The government wanted the utmost secrecy. They did not want to explore Ryezin, nor make contact with anything they would have to explain later, having spent most of their time trying to convince the world that intelligent life didn't exist elsewhere. Besides, they noted that BUNS could fund this event for scratch compared to their own expensive endeavors. They still had a space station to finish, for Pete's sake.

The BUNS people were proud of their project and wanted people to know all about it. Unfortunately, they did not have the funds to make up posters. Instead, they had their chain of BUNS-N-FUDGE bakeries put a small slip of paper into the cookie bags. The note informed the customers that 25 cents of each purchase would go to defray the cost of the trip to Ryezin.

Blastoff was uneventful. Whitbread settled back to enjoy the trip. He had plenty of reading material supplied by his wife and enough food supplied by the dehydrated camping food division of Buns-N-Fudge to last if he conserved water supplies.

Communication with Earth was truly limited, even when the old cell phone worked, because he had to save battery power for his reading lamp. They had forgotten to give him enough batteries for both. He also had to wait for solar flares to settle down to make his calls. This meant hours in which Whitbread did nothing but eat and read. Soon he gave up reading. The House Beautiful and Better Homes magazines his wife had picked out caused him no end of frustration inside the small cabin. He simply couldn't do anything with titanium and tubing, and there were only so many decorative places he could hang his lamp. So he ate the dried apricots and granola, raisin cookies and brownies stacked all around him.

As Whitbread traveled through space, the scientists at MOLASSES established communications with Ryezin once again. They were very excited about finally meeting a human. To be fair, however, they felt they must tell the humans about themselves. No Ryezin wore any covering, but they would designate their leaders with special uniforms for the occasion. They also warned that they possessed a peculiar odor that permeated the entire planet. They hardly noticed it themselves anymore, but it may seem poisonous to an unsuspecting human. They could do nothing about it. That information came too late to add air filters to Whitbread's craft or suit, though the ground crew thought he had to realize there was danger involved. By this time they were out of cell phone range and couldn't contact him anyway.

The days passed and BUNS celebrated, knowing that Whitbread had landed. It disappointed the company to learn that Whitbread had the wrong sized film on board for the camera. They had found the right film sitting on the shelf at BUNS headquarters.

All gathered in the control room to speculate on the Ryezin meeting. Whitbread would distribute his gifts of hair brushes, bubble gum, popcorn and plastic philodendron plants. To save space in the craft, they had shipped the corn unpopped. Sending gifts of Earth technology might have been embarrassing either for its lack of ingenuity to an advanced culture, or be beyond the Ryezin's understanding altogether. The gifts also had to stand up to weeks of cold storage in the luggage hold.

For the two days that Whitbread explored Ryezin, the controllers on Earth chattered about what might be happening. Then they held their breaths while the doddering spacecraft made its way back to Earth. During that time, Ryezin was snapped out of the temporary orbit. The little planet grazed by Jupiter and was slingshotted out of the solar system. A last message streamed into the control room.

Encryption experts puzzled over the last message from Ryezin even as the rescue team fished Whitbread out of Lake Winnipesauke . He was taken by bus to the MOLASSES center for debriefing. Two elderly BUNS members accompanied him. They noted that Whitbread looked very uncomfortable in his space suit, which looked very snug across the seat. He had to stay in it for the whole trip because they forgot to bring an adjustable wrench. On the bus, they told the other passengers that the suit prevented contamination, though they didn't say whose.

Back at the MOLASSES center, Whitbread talked as the others disencumbered him of the suit. He told them that BUNS had wasted their efforts. The landing party never showed up, though he tried for two days to locate them. He had used up all his food and knew he would perish on the way back, and he had hoped the Ryezins could offer him supplies or at least contact Earth to meet him with a supply ship.

Whitbread said that it was only luck that he noticed the little puffy balls scattered all over the ground. Then the most amazing odor began to permeate his helmet. It smelled just like the buttery yeast rolls his wife made. Some of these puffy things looked kind of spoiled, covered all over with a sort of soft green fuzz. He gathered up the good ones and restocked his ship.

As the events coordinator of BUNS interviewed Whitbread, the encryption team flooded into the room, their hands filled with sheets of paper. “What have you done?”

That last garbled message had come from the leaders of Ryezin. They accused humans of the worst kind of behavior in the universe. Wars and battles are one thing, but to steal the children of a friendly planet and eat them in front of the parents and leaders is horrible indeed! Oh, their little spores, devoured by a drooling monster! This was asking for the ultimate in retaliation. Someday, no matter how many millennia it took for the planets to align again, Ryezin would attack with their most powerful weapon.

Whitbread did not hear this of course. He was insisting that the next trip be better supplied with marmalade and butter.

Copyright 2007 by Lucy Suitor Holt