The Aandrisk boy stared at Rosemary, baffled. The notion that someone could not speak Reskitkish seemed inconceivable to him.
“Here, Rosemary,” Sissix said in Klip. “Do this.” She made a quick curve with her fingers. “That’s agreement.”
Rosemary looked at Vush and repeated the gesture. Vush gestured something back, and grabbed her breasts. “What are these?”
Rosemary yelped. Ashby burst out laughing. Sissix darted forward, pulling Vush’s hands back. “Vush, Human women don’t like it when people they don’t know touch them there.”
“Oh, stars,” Ashby said in Klip, holding his shaking sides.
Vush looked puzzled. “Why not?”
“Is he okay?” Teshris asked, pointing at Ashby. She had taken a few steps back.
“Yes,” Sissix said. “He’s just laughing.”
Vush’s eyes were wide and worried. “Did I do something bad?”
“Oh, no, tell him it’s okay,” Rosemary said. “It’s really not a big deal.” She was laughing herself by now.
Sissix patted the boy’s head. “You didn’t do anything bad, Vush. Humans just have more rules about people touching their bodies than we do. I think it would be best to avoid any part of her torso that’s covered.” She tugged gently at Rosemary’s shirt to illustrate the point.
Vush looked at the ground. “I’m sorry.”
Rosemary reached out to touch Vush’s forearm, as she’d seen Sissix do in moments of empathy. She took his hand and placed it on top of her head, inviting him to explore. Vush brightened, and Sissix gave her a fond, approving look.
“Her feathers are different than [unknown],” said Vush as he ran his claws through Rosemary’s hair. The hud did not recognize the last word, but Rosemary did: Ashby. Vush’s attempt at the sh in his name lingered for far longer than it was meant to, and he had stumbled on the b.
“They’re not feathers, stupid,” Teshris said. “That’s hair.” She looked between Rosemary and Ashby. “You’re a different kind of brown than she is.”
“That’s right,” Ashby said.
“Aandrisks are like that,” she informed him, as if he, too, were meeting a new species for the first time. “We have lots of different colors. I’m blue-green, Vush is green-blue, Sissix is green-green. I know all my scale colors. Skeyis says I’m the best at them.” She folded the top of his ear down toward the lobe, over and over again. Ashby bore it patiently. “Do you come from a moon?”
“No, I…” Again, he struggled, and looked to Sissix for help.
“He’s a spacer,” Sissix said. “Many Humans are born [literal translation: body-hatched] on homestead ships.”
“What about her?” Teshris asked.
“She grew up on a planet called Mars.” Sissix was starting to sound bored. Rosemary found their current companions adorable — though she wouldn’t have complained if Vush tugged her hair with a little less enthusiasm — but Sissix kept gazing over her shoulder toward the homesteads. She looked anxious to see her family, and these kids weren’t it. Not even the one that had her cheekbones.
●
A cry rose up as they walked up the path toward the homesteads. “Sissix!” an old voice called. Several others joined in: “Sissix! Sissix!” All at once, a flood of Aandrisks came pouring out of the open entryways. There were a dozen of them, maybe more. Rosemary hadn’t had time to count before they piled on top of Sissix, who had gone running to meet them. They tumbled down in a tangle of tails and feathered heads, hugging and squeezing and cuddling close. All their attention was focused on their long-absent daughter. They nuzzled her cheeks, tugged her feathers, pressed as close to her as they could. Rosemary was taken aback. Even though there was nothing overtly sexual in the way they were touching each other, Rosemary had trouble seeing a mass of writhing naked people any other way. It looked more like group foreplay than a family reunion.
Sissix, on the other hand, was happier than Rosemary had ever seen her. She melted into the embraces of her family. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back as one of the Aandrisks touched her feathers. Rosemary had seen that look before — not on Sissix, but on the old woman they’d encountered at Port Coriol. It was a look of profound gratitude, the sort that comes at the end of a long wait, at being able to exhale after holding your breath until your lungs burned.
Rosemary thought of Sissix on the Wayfarer, how she’d always seemed so affectionate, how cuddly and sweet she was. But now Rosemary saw it from the flip side. What counted as affection in her book was holding back for Sissix. The laughing, snuggling heap on the ground was her baseline. Rosemary imagined herself and her Human crewmates from that point of view. A bunch of stiff, prudish automatons. How could Sissix put up with that every day? She thought again of the moments in which Sissix touched them, the genuine fondness on her face when she nuzzled Ashby’s cheek or hugged Kizzy and Jenks in tandem. She thought of how much effort it would take Sissix to not tumble down with them as she was doing now with her hatch family, to push back her need for a more tangible form of connectedness.
“Ashby, Rosemary,” Sissix called from within the heap. “Come say hello.” She wriggled one of her hands free, and pointed a claw toward all the elderly heads (Sissix’s feathers were by far the brightest of the bunch). “This is Issash, Ethra, Rixsik, Ithren, Kirix, Shaas, Trikesh, Raasek, and — and a few I don’t know.” She laughed and switched to Reskitkish, addressing the old woman hugging her the closest. “You’ve added some faces since I was last here.”
The old woman — Issash, Rosemary thought, though she knew she’d never be able to keep them all straight — said, “We stole a couple of them from the Sariset family at a frolic last winter.” She leaned toward Sissix conspiratorially. “It’s because everybody knows I’m the best looking elder in the region.” The other Aandrisks laughed. One of them tugged her feathers. She grinned with mock arrogance.
Sissix laughed and nuzzled Issash’s cheek. “I’ve missed you so much,” she said.
One of the male elders wiggled his way free of the pile. His eyes were sharp, but his feathers drooped with age, and his scales were dull. Rosemary got the impression that he was very old. “I’d ask you to join us,” he said with a smile. “But I know that’s not your way.” He reached out his hand to shake Ashby’s. “Ashby, how are you? I am glad to see you again.”
Ashby cleared his throat and answered as best he could. “Glad to see you, Ishren. Thank you for the…for being…welcome.”
Ishren’s smile grew wider and he touched Ashby’s forearm. “Your Reskitkish is very good,” he said.
“Not very,” Ashby said. “I speak less than…than I know. Than I know to hear.” He spoke in Klip: “No, hang on…”
Ishren laughed. “You understand more than you can say. See? I can understand you just fine.” He patted Ashby’s arm, and turned to Rosemary. “Do you speak Reskitkish?” he asked as he shook her hand. Rosemary shook her head apologetically. He pointed at her hud. “But you understand?” She started to nod, but then remembered the curved gesture Sissix had shown her down by the creek, hand speak for yes. Ishren was delighted. “See, you are learning fast. And I am like Ashby. I understand Klip, but I am not confident in speaking it. So as long as you are wearing your hud, we can each speak what we’re comfortable with and understand the other just fine.” He put one of his hands on Rosemary’s shoulder, and did the same to Ashby. “I enjoy seeing Humans here. When I was a little younger than Sissix, I crewed aboard an Aeluon cargo carrier. Aeluon-run, that is. It was a multispecies crew, like yours. We even had a Laru woman, believe it or not. Damned clever species, the Laru, never saw anyone who could play tikkit like her. But — ah, what was I saying?”
“I don’t know,” Ashby said, giving the Reskitkish another try. “About Humans?”
“Ah, yes, yes. I’ll never forget the day when we learned Humans had been accepted into the GC as a member species. We were at the Muriat Marketplace — have you ever been there?”
�
�Sometimes,” Ashby said.
“Is there still a bar there called [Hanto: The Fully-Stocked Cupboard]?”
“Don’t know.”
“Oh, I hope it’s still there. Best sugarsnaps in the GC, no question. I’ve never found another bartender who can get them that tart. But anyway. Yes, Humans joining the GC. I was at an algae depot — no, no, it was a tech shop, yes, a tech shop. There was a Human man working there. His job was to clean used parts meant for resale. Mindless work, and hard, too. Not a good job for a species with soft hands. You could tell by his clothes that he didn’t get paid much. His boss was out, so he was helping me find — oh, whatever it was I needed. There was a news feed on a little projector at his work desk, and suddenly, there it was. Humans in the GC. The man went quiet. And then he did something I’d never seen before: he started crying. Now, I didn’t know that crying was something that Humans did, so I was a little afraid. Do you know how disturbing it is to see someone’s eyes start leaking? Ha! And poor man, he’s trying to explain crying to me while going through all of those emotions. I’ll never forget what he said to me. He said, ‘This means we matter. We’re worth something.’ And I said, ‘Of course you’re worth something. Everyone is worth something.’ And he said, ‘But now I know the galaxy thinks so, too.’” Ishren squeezed their shoulders and looked between them. “And now, you have ships of your own, and you go out into the open like we Aandrisks do. And to the Core! I must admit, I am jealous of your journey. What a lucky thing that is.” He smiled. “I hope I don’t sound patronizing, but thinking back on that man, seeing you here makes me think on how far your species has come. That makes me very happy. Oh! I just remembered! Are you hungry? I know that Humans have to eat more than we do, so Rixsik and I spent last night preparing plenty of extra food for the [noun, no analog available; a table where communal food is offered throughout the day].”
“That’s kind. Very kind,” Ashby said. “I wish — I hope it were not…difficult.”
“Not at all,” Ishren said. “We are all looking forward to see how much you can eat.” He grinned and pointed off to the side. “I think they are, too.”
Behind a stack of empty crates, a pack of hatchlings had gathered, watching the adults with intense curiosity. They were hanging back, as if waiting to be invited. Rosemary realized that might actually be the case. Perhaps they knew not to butt in when adults were socializing. That would make sense, among a species where children did not need help learning basic survival skills. In a Human gathering, adults wouldn’t think twice about dropping a conversation the moment a child needed something, even if it was simply attention. But here, the hatchlings seemed to know that adult activities took precedent, and that if they wanted to join in, they’d have to figure out the rules. So instead of tugging at sleeves and showing off, they observed the goings-on of adults from the sidelines, trying to puzzle it all out. They were learning how to be people.
Rosemary saw Teshris among them, her little arms wrapped around a hatchling of similar size and features. Eskat, presumably, Sissix’s other — Rosemary stopped herself before thinking the word child. Offspring? Progeny? All the words granted too much of a connotation of those hatchlings belonging to Sissix, which they clearly did not, or at least, not in a Human way. Perhaps it was enough to say that Teshris and Eskat shared an egg mother, who happened to be Sissix.
Her attention swayed back to the cuddle heap, which was beginning to disintegrate. Three of the elders — ones Sissix had not known the names of — were heading back to the house. A few stayed with Sissix, still touching, but their energy was waning. Issash, however, continued to hug Sissix as tightly as she had at the start. Two of Sissix’s other hatch parents, apparently overcome by all the affection, had left the group for a nearby bench. There could be no doubt that they had moved on to actual foreplay, and in one brief, unexpected moment, all of Rosemary’s idle curiosities about what a male Aandrisk kept inside the slit between his legs were answered.
“Come,” Ishren said, leading Rosemary and Ashby toward the homestead. “Let’s take care of you two. And you know, you don’t have to wear clothes here, unless you want to. I know it’s your way, but we want you to be comfortable.”
“Thank you,” Rosemary said in Klip. She did her best to avert her gaze from the Aandrisk elders on the bench, who were now coupling with gusto. “I think I’ll keep them on for now.”
●
The way the day progressed, Rosemary felt sorry for the techs, crowded into some concert pit with greasy food and overpriced kick. Her own afternoon was spent lying on floor cushions, drinking grass wine and eating strange, delicious nibbles from the communal table (the elders had little frame of reference for how much Humans needed to eat, and had provided enough food for ten of them). She listened as Sissix’s family caught their hatch daughter up on the daily dramas of friends and relatives. Everything about the gathering was intriguing, from the unfamiliar food, to the obsessive level of detail given to local gossip, to the unending physical affection lavished upon Sissix. In many ways, Rosemary felt like the hatchlings, peeking through the windows and slipping in to fill bowls with snacks. She, too, was content to watch and learn.
But by evening, Rosemary had grown a little restless. She had eaten herself sluggish, thanks to Ishren’s urgings, and the effect of the wine had shifted from “pleasantly relaxed” to “mild headache.” Her legs were stiff from lying around, and her brain felt like goo after several hours of listening to conversations in an unfamiliar language. Shortly after the sun went down, she excused herself and went outside for some air.
Theth dominated the desert sky, hanging close enough for her to imagine that she could reach out and brush its rings with her fingertips. Without the haze of city lights, shimmering colors shone down unhindered — the glow of neighboring moons, the murky purple gauze of the galactic cloud, and all in between, nothing but stars, stars, stars. She lived up there, in that vast expanse of color. Every day, she saw planets and comets and stellar nurseries right up close, plain as weather. Yet, there was something about being planetside that made it feel different. Perhaps stars were supposed to be viewed from the ground.
She glanced inside at Sissix, surrounded by a throng of feathered heads. She looked back to the sky, guiltily entertaining the idea of everyone but Sissix disappearing for a while. She imagined Sissix coming outside, handing her another glass of wine, putting her arm around her shoulder, teaching her the names of constellations. It was a silly, selfish thought, she knew, but she indulged it all the same.
A short while later, Ashby stepped out of the doorway, carrying a heat blanket. “Thought you might be cold.”
“I am a bit, thanks.” She took the blanket and pulled it around her shoulders. A soft warmth spread like sunlight through her clothes. “Oh. Mmm.”
“Pretty great, right?”
“Why do I not have one of these?”
Ashby laughed. “I bought one a few years back, right after I made that same face you’re making. I’m sure we can get one before we leave.”
“Yes, please.”
“The elders couldn’t believe you’d need a blanket.”
“Why — ah. Because I’m warm blooded. Right.” She laughed.
“Everything okay?”
“Oh, yeah, absolutely. I just needed a little fresh air.”
“Yeah, I know, these things can be a bit much after a while. But you have had a good time?”
“I’ve had a great time. I’m really glad I came.”
“Good. Tell Sissix that, too, it’ll make her happy.”
Rosemary smiled, but thought again of the several hours she’d spent watching Sissix being petted and pampered by a loving family. How cold and rigid life on the Wayfarer was in comparison. Sissix deserved better than that.
Ashby cocked his head at her. “What is it?”
“I don’t know if I can put it into words. It’s just…” She thought. “How does she do it?”
“Do what?”
&n
bsp; “Get by without a feather family.”
“Sissix has a feather family.”
Rosemary blinked. A long-distance relationship with a feather family? Given the closeness she’d just witnessed, she couldn’t see how that would work. “She’s never said anything about them.”
Ashby smirked. “When you have a minute in private, pull up her ID file. As ship’s clerk, you should have access to it.”
Late that night, curled up in her guest room, Rosemary did just that.
ID #: 7789-0045-268
GC Designated Name: Sissix Seshkethet
Emergency contact: Ashby Santoso
Next of kin: Issash Seshkethet (GC designated)
Local name (if applicable):
oshet-Seshkethet esk-Saskist as-Eshresh Sissix isket-Veshkriset
Rosemary chewed her lip as she studied the words on her Scrib. Seshkethet was obvious. Saskist was Sissix’s mother, and Eshresh sounded like a name, which meant he was probably her father. Veshkriset, however, was unfamiliar.
She pulled up the official Aandrisk family database. Somewhere out there, there was a team of archivists whose sole purpose was to follow Aandrisk family drama and track the changes accordingly. She felt exhausted just thinking about it.
The letters on the screen shifted as her Scrib translated the text into Klip. Please choose a family name, it read. “Veshkriset,” she said, hoping the database could understand her poor accent. A listing popped up. Rosemary’s brow furrowed. The Veshkriset feather family had only one member. Sissix.
She leaned back into the nest of blankets. Sissix was in a feather family by herself? That didn’t make any sense. Sissix was the walking definition of gregariousness, and Aandrisks didn’t view loners kindly. Declaring yourself the sole member of a feather family would be an act of defiance, a signal that you didn’t want anything to do with other Aandrisks. Rosemary remembered how Sissix had reacted to the old woman back on Port Coriol, how she had dropped everything to give a stranger a few moments of company. Being alone and untouched…there’s no punishment worse than that. No, it didn’t fit at all.
The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet Page 28