Henry wandered the aisles of the thrift store. Of all the things he had to do to be onboard, Jesus Christ, this was the stupidest. Bring something nostalgic. Jesus. H. Christ. He knew no father and his mother had been awol most of his life. All Henry wanted was to get out of this hell hole so that he would not be just another statistic.

The thrift store was a hopping place. Grandmothers sorted through kids’ clothes. Younger people looked for home furnishings on the cheap. Middle-aged women grabbed at items like their lives depended on kitchy clutter to make them happy. Henry was there because nostalgia equated to old. In his disposable life, he’d attached no value to anything. Buy it, use it, lose it. No regrets. Why the fuck did he have to have something old and trashy to bring along?

He didn’t want anything too big, like furniture, to haul around. There were some knick-knacks in the china department, but they didn’t resemble anything in his upbringing. There were some dinnerware sets, one was interesting enough to say that it had belonged to a great aunt or something, but his heart wasn’t into that kind of story. Clothing didn’t seem to make much sense. Nor did books. He was running out of departments.

He watch a lady with hair too red to be natural pick up and examine a black plastic box the size of a small suitcase. She opened it. For a moment, there was a sad smile and her eyes were too moist. She closed and set the box down with care.

As soon as the redhead moved on, Henry moved in to see what had attracted her attention. It was Barbie doll wardrobe case. Inside were two dolls, a bubble-headed blonde Barbie and a smaller, less mature looking doll with long brown hair. Along with the dolls, the case was packed to overflowing with clothes for every occasion. If it had affected the chick with the red hair that way, it must have the nostalgic mojo. Henry snagged it, and before anyone could notice a grown man walking around with a silly doll set had it on the checkout counter.

The trip to Cassis 3 was five years long. The singles, and the bulk of the colonists were single when they signed up, were matched and encouraged to develop relations during the trip. The profiling must have been good because Henry found everything that he could ask for in a woman in Barbara. The feelings were mutual. By the time the colony ship landed, their daughter Sherry was two. Life couldn’t be better.

Planet side, the colonists established a temporary city of beige plastic buildings on a semi-arid plateau overlooking a crystal blue sea. The science types said that it was ideal for agriculture and since the first priority was to be self-sufficient in the food department, it seemed to make sense.

Like most of the colonists, Henry and Barbara had no particular skills before joining. But they’d had five years to learn enough about agriculture, in particular grain production, to hit the dirt at full speed.

Henry was seeding corn when the first Memem approached. They were dark creatures, with patchy fur, about three quarters the height of Henry’s six foot frame. They walked upright with a rolling gait. Their huge eyes were shaded from the noon sun by visors that covered most of their heads. They wore loose robes that were iridescent in the bright light.

Henry stopped the seeder. Prior to the colony, this planet was supposed to be uninhabited by intelligent life. But wherever these creatures came from, from their looks, they qualified as intelligent life. 

He had no weapons. There wasn’t supposed to be anything dangerous enough on the plateau to warrant weapons. He was a farmer, not a leader, for Christ’s sake. He stood and watched the strangers approach, not because it was the thing to do, but because suddenly his legs refused to move.

“Hello?” he asked.

“Wellllooo,” the wrinkled one said. It’s mouth opened more vertical than horizontal. There didn’t seem to be any teeth inside. 

Henry held out his hands, to show that they were empty and that he was not a threat. He had size and reach and some street fighting experience during his youth. He could probably take them if it came to that.

The others repeated his gesture. Either they were mimics, or they were trying to be nonthreatening back.

With slow, deliberate movements, he touched his phone.

“Hello? This is Henry Brown out seeding field nine. I have a situation. There are three, um, beings here.”

The three watched, but this time did not copy his movements or his speech.

It seemed like it ought to be foolish or dangerous or rude to turn his back to them, but he had no idea what the proper protocol was for a situation like this. It could take the control center a while to assess and decide what to do, so rather than stand at this rather ridiculous impasse, Henry decided to sit.

The soft soil was comfortable enough, only something to throw a little shade would have made the spot perfect. The three strangers scooped small ditches in the dirt and folded their lower legs into them.

The wrinkled one pointed to itself and said, “Mememo’hala.” Then it pointed to the others saying, “Mememealo’haha,” and “Mememimi.”

Henry pointed to himself and said, “Henry Brown.” He nodded. They nodded.

It was upsetting to learn that the Memem were the rightful natives of the planet and what had brought them out was the colony establishing its base on the roof of their city. It was impossible for the colonists to leave until a rescue ship could be sent and that would take at least ten years. It would be difficult, but in the interim the colonists could move their site off the plateau.

The Memem would have none of that. They were content to have the newcomers settle on the plateau, or if desired, move into the city below. As a race, the Memem were dwindling. They were dying and happy to have a new race become the steward of their planet. It was an offer that seemed too good to refuse.

Everything went well for the next few years. Additional colonists came, life got better for both the colonists and the Memem.

It was in the fifth year that the virus struck. It was a cyclical thing for the Memem, happening twice every generation and the results were devastating to both Terran and Memem. The humans lost over half their numbers, the natives about a quarter of their own. For the humans, the disease struck hardest among the young, especially those born in space. For the Memem, the virus took mostly the lives of older adults, leaving many orphans in its wake.

Henry still farmed on top, but after losing both Sherry and Barbara, he took up residence in Below Town. It didn’t feel right to be sleeping in Above Town without Barbara beside him and Sherry in the next room. Instead, he was now father to three Memem youngsters. It was awkward at first, but each helped to fill a void in the other that was too painful when they were among their own kind.

It was their naming day, which was a ritual Henry didn’t fully understand since they each had names, Elam, Awon and Erarar, and those names weren’t being changed. But it was a big occasion for the girls, more important than a birthday, which had almost no meaning to Memem. 

They dressed in their finest robes, Elam in brown with electric blue shimmers; Awon in tan with green lights; Erarar in charcoal fabric with gold waves of iridescence; and Henry in a gray-green robe with pale green sparkles. They walked with the other name day candidates to the great hall. Deep below the surface, it was a natural cavern of immense proportion illuminated only by the garments of its occupants. Even with his enhanced lenses Harry could barely make out what was considered to be the most beautiful place on the planet. The girls, with their eyes naturally adapted to living underground had no such difficulty. He could see the awe in their expressions and it was enough for him.

Later, back in their cavern, after the public ceremony and celebrations were concluded, Henry had one gift for for the girls. He wasn’t sure how they’d receive it. They had neither the culture nor the physiology nor the history to understand it. Still, it seemed the right thing to do.

They sat on the floor. The girls had their legs folded into niches in the stone; Harry sat cross-legged on a cushion. He placed the Barbie doll wardrobe case in front of them, showed them how to open it. He thought he’d have to explain what the dolls were and how they related to the clothing and accessories, but apparently, some concepts are universal. The Memem don’t squeal like little human girls do, but they have a way of making their ears flutter that means the same thing.

“It’s Barbara and Sherry!” Elam said. Her eyes were wider than when they’d first entered the great hall. Awon was busy sorting the clothing into different piles while Erarar fumbled with tiny shoes and bracelets packed in clear plastic boxes.

For the rest of the day, the youngsters made up stories and acted them through the dolls about Barbara and Sherry. It was innocence at its best. It brought tears that were both happy and sad.