In order to decipher an unknown language, a total at least 130,000 words of it must be recovered. This is the reason there are so many undeciphered scripts even today such as the Harrapan script. The only way around that is if the text appears next to a translation of it into a known language. This is how hieroglyphics were deciphered. An artifact called the Rosetta Stone contained the same message in hieroglyphics, Greek, and a phonetic form of ancient Egyptian. Often, the key is determining whether a script is based on letters, syllables as in Sanskrit, or ideograms as in Chinese. I remember reading a sci-fi story where the key to decoding an alien language was discovering their version of the Periodic Table in the ruins of one of their cities. An intriguing idea, yet as far as I could tell, the last person who did chemistry on Mars died eons ago. In any case, I had no doubt that my photographs of the Martian written language would keep linguists busy for many years to come. Yuri Knozorov, the linguist who decoded the Mayan script famously said that any possible system made by man can be cracked by man. It would remain to be seen whether humans could decipher an alien language.
By this time, the alien and I had become accustomed to each other, so I decided it was time to ask a favor. With signs and visual aids from the tablet, I explained how the bent landing gear on my ship prevented me from leaving, and I only had a limited time left to find a solution if I wanted to return to my home planet. The creature understood immediately and motioned me over to observe him work. I could tell it was being very gentle as he did not want to cause worse damage with its brute strength. It was delicately work, but in the end, my spacecraft was more or less pointed straight up. NASA confirmed this when I sent some positional data. The maneuvering thrusters would need to work a bit more than had been planned, but they had been engineered with enough redundant propellant in case of an emergency. I did my best to express my gratitude to the Martian beast and hoped it would understand that I was ready to do a favor for it. After pausing for a few moments, as if lost in thought, it lumbered off and return an hour later with a large ball of dried mud about five feet across. It motioned to the spacecraft as if to tell me it wanted me to take the mud ball back to earth with me.
It saw the look of confusion on my face, so in the sand, it drew a cartoon of what could only be an egg hatching, and miniature version of itself crawling out. Ah, so the mud ball contained many such eggs of its kind. I drew my own cartoon to explain that, and the creature signaled that we were on the same page, so to say. In another drawing, the creature explained that the young of its kind could not survive in the current Martian environment, though they could remain dormant for a long time when covered in dried mud. The creature concluded that perhaps young Martians could survive on earth. It was worth a shot, and as the creature had no one else to help its species survive, I was its only hope. Unfortunately, the mud ball was too big to fit in the airlock. We ended up having to very carefully cut it in half. Through tapping with its antennae, the creature was able to sense exactly where to cut and did the delicate work with a rock hammer. The bottom halves of the two resulting hemispheres needed to be resealed with mud, and so I used some of my precious water to accomplish that task.
Before I resealed the mud hemispheres, I took some pictures of the eggs jutting out and sent them to mission control. They were, of course, thrilled and fascinated, though with the launch window fast approaching, it was time to make my departure preparations. The added weight of the hemispheres was a few hundred pounds, and so I would need to ditch a fair amount of gear in order to launch. With help from NASA technicians, I was able to cobble together a basic communication station that would charge with a solar panel. I explained to the creature that hopefully it would be able to communicate with me both on my way home and with scientists on earth in the future. To protect it from dust storms, it was small and light enough such that the alien could stash it in the nearby cave for safekeeping. I could tell that even though the creature was nearing the last few years of its life, it was buoyed by the hope that it might live long enough to see its species hatch, grow, and have a future elsewhere.
It was a bittersweet moment as I climbed up the ladder for the last time on launch day. In what I presume was a farewell gesture, the creature raised its claws and snapped its pincers loudly several times. I returned his gesture with a salute, a wave, and a bow before closing the airlock door behind me. The spacecraft rumbled and shook as blasted off to begin the long journey home. It passed pleasantly as I was able to converse with the creature through the improvised communication device. Almost a year later, I splashed down near the Bahamas and was taken to Cape Canaveral to recuperate. Based on what was known of Martian biology, scientists created a habitat for the eggs, which hatched successfully a few months later. It was another scientific first, though my Martian friend stopped broadcasting shortly after being sent a video of the hatching. I like to think it died peacefully knowing its most important work was complete. As for myself, after a few months of tours and lectures I decided a long vacation was in order. I chose a spot near Tybee Island where the sea turtles come ashore to nest. Watching their eggs hatch was a soothing reminder that life goes on, no matter where you are in the universe.
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