I vow to thee, my country, all earthly things above
Entire and whole and perfect, the service of my love.
"You will like this position," the ship's captain said. "It seems almost too good to be true."
"What is it?"
"The signal was located in the sub-region of "France". You know the language well, is that not so?"
"I've completed the necessary training," Enjol said. Naturally one could not learn all the languages of the humans, they had so many, yet the Human Aid Corps Training Academy had outlined the most pertinent ones. Out of French, German, Russian and English, he had felt an affinity to French - it sounded most like the language of his own people.
"He is what the humans consider a child," the captain continued, "156 months old, or in their conception, about 13 years. Again, perfect."
"I am almost 10 months younger," he intervened. "Would that not make a difference?"
"None whatsoever. The humans will simply think you look a little young for your age. Best of all, he even looks a lot like you. We will need only a minimal amount of masking."
"Who is he?"
"A child going to what humans call a 'boarding school', in the locality of Paris. We will brief you on that in a moment. They were passing through a forest and carriage was attacked by a particularly dangerous specimen of earthly fauna, a pack of wolves. The coachman fled, leaving the child and his companion to be devoured."
Enjol frowned with confusion. "Why did he flee?"
"You will find," the captain said mysteriously, "that humans are often slaves to a certain emotion called fear."
For at least the last 100 months of his existence, he had dreamed of joining the Human Aid Corps. The stories that the elders of his community told them filled his head with visions of that distant planet, apparently so similar to their own but so painfully different in the important details.
Unlike his own people, the inhabitants of the Earth required nourishment from outside sources, not only collecting water but gathering plants and even slaughtering animals (in which, the books said, their planet was abundant) to keep themselves alive. This led to conflicts, he understood, with each person needing to get enough for himself, and some wanting even more; it led to the unthinkable, the humans murdering each other for the other's property, or forcing them to do their bidding for fear of death or poverty, enslaving one another and judging each human by the quantity of golden disks that each had. Then they had such strange conceptions of the other's worth, considering somehow that one person was allowed to rule the others and another had to fulfill his wishes, simply through some unwritten code that said that it is to be so!
Luckily, not all the inhabitants of the Earth saw things in this manner. In fact, he was told, the vast majority of the people resented such a way of life and dreamed of ridding themselves of the tyrants that ruled them. However, for reasons that he could not quite understand, most of these did nothing to improve their situation, leaving such attempts to a mere handful of their brethren.
It was these people that their nation has unanimously agreed to support, having discovered first the planet itself and then its dreadful condition with the help of the scientific developments over the last three thousand months. The Human Aid Corps, established in the month 19380, pledged to train volunteers in all manner of human arts, sufficient to allow them to be planted into human society and take part in their struggle against injustice. It was decided to maintain secrecy - human civilization was clearly somewhat less advanced than their own (they had not yet discovered telepathy, nor the other array of mental powers that lay at their disposal) and it was impossible to divine what attitude they would take to strangers apparently invading their planet in this manner. Since the Corps's first successful mission in England in the month 19740, the human year 1642, there have been hundreds of volunteers of which Enjol was one.
"Best of all," the captain was saying, "you will almost keep your name. The boy - you should get used to that word - is called Enjolras."
Enjol smiled in anticipation. He had graduated three months ago and the launch of his ship had been several times delayed. At last they arrived on Earth and the last two months they coursed its surface, looking for potential opportunities. One could not simply drop what seemed to the humans a rather young child in the middle of France.
"Is everything ready?"
"Put on your Earth attire, then we go."
Enjolras, as he determined to think of himself from now on, had of course practiced wearing human clothes, yet these ones seemed to be more uncomfortable than normal. A stiff, restraining collar; a shirt made of uncommonly scratchy material; several more layers of thick fabric; finally that ridiculous convention that the humans called a tie which Enjolras still viewed with considerable suspicion; a far cry from the lighter and freer costume of their own.
"Prepare for landing," the captain called out. The mechanician in the engine deck busied himself over the invisibility controls: though they were now in a forested and sparsely populated part of the country, every precaution still needed to be upheld.
Strapping himself into his seat, Enjolras cast his eyes over his resume. He was a thirteen year old boy - he simply must try to think in these human terms - from a town in the south of France called Aix-en-Provence, according to statistics about the same size as his own community at home. He was going to school in Paris, with other boys of his age, to return home only in the summer. There was a father and no mother or siblings - so far so good - and quite a large number of those objects humans called money.
The ship glided smoothly through the trees of the forest, avoiding collision with the tall specimens that may or may not have been called firs. At last, with the tiniest of jolts, it landed right in the middle of a clearing.
The rest of the staff pressed his shoulder as he went past them, with a look of silent farewell. Who knew when he would see them again, or if ever?
With a deep breath, Enjolras stepped out of the ship and onto his very first patch of ground on Earth. It felt much the same as the ground back at home, so did the air he carefully breathed in. The captain led him swiftly through the trees, the branches brushing against their sleeves, until they came out onto a narrow road, only vaguely lit by the stars above.
The road was blocked by a large carriage, turned on its side. One horse, to Enjolras's deep distress, lay dead by the front wheels, blood still slithering from the wounds covering its body. The horses they had on their planet never had to suffer such a death, safe as they were in their sanctuaries…
Yet this was a different world entirely, with its own, more savage rules. Enjolras came nearer, treading carefully around the corpse, only to be greeted with another one, human this time, even more mangled, still clutching a pistol (was that the word?) in his hand.
"Where are the wolves?" he whispered, compelled to lower his voice before the death in front of them.
"Scared off by the ship's signals," the captain said. "Look, this is you."
Following his sign, Enjolras looked into the open carriage and saw the boy. Unlike the others, he hardly seemed dead at all.
"Could we not have saved them?" he asked quietly. "We are, after all, here for their aid."
"We were here too late," the captain simply replied. "Now, get into the carriage. I shall take the body away and we will bury it according to human custom."
"And what do I do?"
"Wait for some human to come. You should be safe from wild animals while we are still in the area. And then…"
"Onwards.
In several minutes more, after a few final words of encouragement, the captain turned back to the ship. Enjolras watched his white shirt become gradually more obscured by the branches, then it disappeared altogether.
With a sigh of resolution, he climbed into the carriage. There were a few more hours until dawn. In the morning some humans will surely come and there his mission would begin.
