by Peter Ponzo
CHAPTER 3
RUNNER Speaks
Two weeks had passed since they left orbit about C-phon3. TOM and LIZ methodically went through the ritual of putting the ship into the subspace folds, then reentering normal galaxy space. This reduced the time necessary to return to Home planet; remaining in galaxy space would mean a 2 year trip. By taking the subspace shortcuts, when the opportunity presented itself, the trip could be no more than 5 weeks.
But entering and leaving subspace was fraught with danger. High gravitational fields would generate spacial distortions so severe that the ship itself would be torn apart. The precision with which this procedure must be carried out required that it be the sole responsibility of the ship's computers, and Gry, for one, was pleased to have it that way. He spent most of his time watching the video scanner, listening to rock music and polishing his collection of rings.
Kevn spent most of this time trying to teach Runr to speak English.
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"Hello, hello, hello," said Kevn, staring intently at the runner. They were in a small room and the black youth was sitting on the floor. The boy opened his mouth, framed the words with his lips - and grunted hoarsely three times. Kevn sat back, looking very tired. He tapped the comtab and heard the sound of rock music from Gry's room.
"Gry. Can you give me a hand. I'm getting nowhere with this kid."
Within seconds Gry walked in and sat down.
"Why try? He's an animal. You might as well try to talk to a wild dog. Am I right? Anyway ... uh, how can I help?"
"I want you to say something in Grik. Say it three times. I'm sure he knows that he's supposed to repeat it. Maybe Grik is an easier language for him to enunciate. He sure can't pronounce English words."
Gry had been adopted and raised by a family that still spoke this ancient language. When his adoptive parents died he was the only citizen of the Dome which spoke Grik, but he had promised to keep the language alive. This was perhaps the only occasion he had had to use the language in years.
"Aaagrok tschzilli cwozschwon." Gry coughed the words, in the traditional style characteristic of the language. It did resemble the grunted responses of the boy, and Kevn was pleased. Maybe he should have asked for Gry's assistance earlier.
Runr opened his mouth, framed the words with his lips, and grunted hoarsely several times. Meaningless.
"There goes that theory," smiled Gry, toying with a sparkling new set of rings dangling from his left ear. "Is that all?"
Kevn frowned. "I asked you to say it three times. I meant the same thing, three times. I don't understand Grik but it seems you said three different things."
"Well ... uh, you can't really do that in Grik - I mean, say something three times, each time saying the same thing."
"You can't say the same word, again and again, three times?"
"Uh, well, every word in Grik has several forms ... pronunciations. One is when the word is first said, then there's a second form for the second time it's said, and ... uh, so on."
"Wonderful," moaned Kevn. "So each word in Grik can't be pronounced properly until you know how it occurs in the sentence - if it's the first or second occurrence of the word? Are you kidding me?"
"Nope, that's about it," said Gry, grinning. Now it was his turn to teach Kevn a thing or two, about an ancient language that only he knew.
"I'll bet the Grik dictionary is something to behold," said Kevn.
"Dictionary? There ain't no dictionary. Anyway, did you want me for anything else?"
"No. I'll see you for dinner." Kevn slumped in his chair. "Okay Runr, you're on your own until tomorrow." Kevn left the small room, securing the door behind him.
Runr watched him leave, his head tilted quizzically. He had an unsatiable curiosity and had inspected every item in the room, poking, tapping, smelling, listening and tasting. It was a delight. He had never seen anything but the caves and fields of his planet, never heard a sound but the winds or the whine of his beast and never communicated with anything but the beast and the twinkling blue crystals.
The room, though small, had a console with comtabs (which had been disabled by TOM so Runr couldn't abuse LIZ) and a table, three chairs, a cot and several shelves with videobooks. On the table was a bowl of fruit, a loaf of bread and a jug of red liquid. Runr investigated everything once more, tasted everything, then pulled off his loosely fitting tunic and curled naked in a corner, on the floor. His curls covered his shoulders and his black skin glistened in the blue lights from the console. Soon he was asleep.
After several hours a whistle from the console awakened the boy. He jumped to his feet, crouched, ready to run. Then he realized where he was and walked to the console and stared, mesmerized at the dancing lights. They were much like the blue lights at home. He placed his hands, tentatively, on the console and closed his eyes. The lights flickered more rapidly. He moaned softly. The lights quickened and continued in this pattern. Runr stood, eyes closed, hands placed firmly on the console for what seemed like hours. Then the lights flickered briefly and went out.
He opened his eyes wearily, smiled and said in a lilting voice: "Thank you, LIZ."