by Amy Thomson
Standing in the boarding bay of Broumas Station with Moki and Eerin, Ukatonen watched as the heavy airlock doors swung open. Anitonen and Naratonen were waiting on the other side. It took him a second to recognize them– they seemed strangely long-limbed and fragile. He had a hard time believing they were real.
Anitonen was telling Naratonen how relieved she was to finally be off this ship. It was strange, watching two other Tendu talk to each other in skin speech. He and Moki had fallen into the habit of using a mixture of Standard sound speech and skin speech, and even their skin speech was peppered with human words, unless they wanted to convey something privately. It made the arriving enkar seem like strangers, even though he knew both of them well.
Before he could stop him, Moki rushed forward, and embraced the two surprised enkar. Their ears lifted in surprise, and Ukatonen thought he saw a yellow flicker of irritation on Naratonen’s shoulder. He felt a sudden flash of anger. It had been years since Moki had seen another Tendu. Couldn’t they understand how much the little bami had missed others of his species?
Then Moki remembered his manners and stepped back, becoming stiff and formal. He’put his almost-complete arm behind his back, self-conscious about his stubby, half-formed fingers.
“Welcome, Naratonen and Anitonen. Your presence does us honor,” he said both in formal Tendu skin speech and aloud in Human Standard. “Please allow me to lead you to where Ukatonen and Eerin are waiting for you.”
Ukatonen stepped forward as they approached. “Welcome, en,” he said, doubling the symbol for “en” to indicate that he meant both of them. “We will be staying here overnight, then going to an ecological research station on Earth. It is much like Tiangi there. You’ll like it.”
“And when will we meet Eerin’s family? Moki told us so much about them on the comm,” Anitonen said.
“It’s midwinter there, and very cold. You would have to wear a warmsuit whenever you went outside. In a few months, when the weather’s better, we’ll go and visit them. But Eerin’s daughter, Mariam, and some of her family will be joining us here on Broumas, so you’ll get a chance to meet them. They will be coming down to Earth with us to help look after Mariam.”
“I was hoping to see some of the humans’ performances,” Naratonen told him. “The plays that I saw on Tri-V were very interesting.”
“You will,” Ukatonen assured him. “After you are recovered from your trip, and are used to speaking aloud, we will visit many different countries around the world, meeting their leaders, and watching their musicians and actors perform.”
“I still do not understand the idea of countries,” Anitonen said, as they followed their security escorts into the hotel elevator. “Who determines what one is? How do they tell which country a person belongs to? Why are they all so different?”
Ukatonen shook his head. He had forgotten how little he had known when he first came here. They had so much to learn. “It is difficult to explain. Imagine, if you will, if individual villages ran the world. That is what countries are like. Only more so.”
Anitonen’s ears lifted. “It would be disharmony, and worse. I cannot imagine such a situation.”
“It exists here on Earth.”
“And have you done nothing to stop it?” Anitonen demanded.
Ukatonen spread his hands. “We have vowed to abide by their rules of noninterference.”
“En, it is not his problem to solve. Nor yours,” Eerin said. “We humans have been trying to bring peace between our people for millennia. Sometimes the attempts to bring peace only made things worse for everyone.”
“I have been studying the problem,” Ukatonen said. “Some of the feuds between different groups of humans have been going on for hundreds of generations. It is a very complex tangle, and not easily undone. You loosen one thread and six others tighten. If there is anything that we can do to help bring harmony here, it will require much study before we act.”
A blue and green ripple of amusement coursed over Naratonen. “Anitonen is still young, and so much time working with humans has made her hasty.”
Anitonen browned with shame. “I am sorry, en,” she said as the elevator doors opened.
“You will learn, Anitonen,” Naratonen said in gentle, reassuring tones. He brushed her shoulder with his knuckles.
Analin had set up a press conference in the hotel’s largest conference room. Eerin, Ukatonen, and Moki took turns translating formal greetings to the people of Earth from the two newly arrived enkar, and answering questions on their behalf. Anitonen and Naratonen watched the goings-on in amazement. At least, Ukatonen thought with a flicker of amusement, they didn’t embarrass themselves as much as he and Moki had at their first press conference.
Ukatonen did his best to spin the press conference out as long as he could, but Analin finally brought it to a halt. As soon as they reached their rooms, Ukatonen vanished into the shower, putting off the moment of linking as long as he could. Eventually, the shower timed out and shut itself off, forcing him to face the others. Anitonen and Naratonen were waiting for him in the living room with Moki and Eerin.
“Ukatonen, it has been a long time since we linked, come join us,” Anitonen said.
“No, I-I can’t,” Unatonen said.
Purple clouds of puzzlement flowed over the newcomers’ bodies.
“What is the matter?” Naratonen said.
“I was injured.”
“Then you need healing. We should link,” Naratonen insisted.
“It was my head, the part where my presence lived. Moki did the best he could but– it is beyond healing.” he told them, grey with grief. “I would die, but my knowledge is needed. And,” he said, gesturing with his chin at Moki and Eerin, “they would not let me die.”
“That does not matter. You need linking. Come,” Naratonen said, holding out his arms. “We will learn what you have to teach as quickly as we can, that we may not keep you from an honorable death.”
Ukatonen knew that once he said the words in his heart, his relationship with the enkar, with the Tendu, and with the universe would change irrevocably. He looked over at Moki and Eerin for a moment, to strengthen his resolve, then spoke:
“Perhaps I no longer seek an honorable death, but an honorable, if imperfect, life.”
The two enkar stared at him in amazement. “How can such a thing be?” Naratonen asked. “How can you think this?”
A flicker of ironic amusement flowed over Ukatonen’s body. “It is one of the many things I have learned here.” He held out his arms. “Link with me, and I will show you.”
Naratonen drew back, and Anitonen hesitated visibly. Ukatonen was suddenly amused. They were afraid of him. It was not the response he had expected.
“It is a choice, en, that is all. I realized that despite what happened, I still wanted to live. There is still so much for me to learn. And– ” he continued, “I am willing to live with the consequences of that decision.”
He held out his arms again. “Link with me, en. It has been a long time.”
Anitonen reached out first. Then Naratonen, though a flicker of orange fear passed over him as he did so.
They linked. The strength of their presences washed over him like huge waves. To his surprise, he sensed Moki and Eerin moving to buffer them, but he moved into the enkar’s presences, riding the power of their strength. It was good, so good, to feel the presence of other Tendu in the link. He realized how stale allu-a had become. He felt Naratonen examining the scar on his brain. The enkar made a sudden adjustment. Suddenly, like a picture snapping into focus, Ukatonen’s presence strengthened. He felt a sudden exultation as he tested his new strength. Then he sensed Naratonen’s disappointment, and despair closed on Ukatonen like a giant fist. The improvement was not enough. Not for an enkar.
Ukatonen broke the link and fled, ashamed of his sudden cowardice, but he could feel Anitonen and Naratonen’s thoughts coming toward him like a dark line of rain. They were going to offer to help him die,
and he was terribly afraid that he would accept their gift.
“Ukatonen, wait!”
It was Eerin. He stopped by the elevator and waited for her to catch up.
“What happened, en?” she asked. “I felt Naratonen do something, but I wasn’t sure what happened after that.”
Ukatonen darkened in shame as he explained.
“Let’s go for a walk,” Eerin suggested. “There’s a Mo-toyoshi garden you haven’t seen yet.”
Ukatonen looked up at her, his skin lightening in anticipation.
’That would be good,” he told her.
They went, and he sat in stillness by a small, twisted tree, near a trickling stone fountain letting the peace of the garden seep into him.
“I cannot do this anymore,” he told her at last. “I am no longer an enkar.”
“But you are something more than an enkar,” Eerin told him, “not something less.”
“I am a new kind of Tendu,” Ukatonen replied. “But I don’t know what that means yet. I don’t know where I fit into the world.”
“You are part of our family, for one thing. There is one place where you belong.”
He looked up at her, moved by her words, but saddened also. “Perhaps, for now,” he said. “I do not think it will be a long-term solution.”
“I know, en,” Eerin said, smiling ruefully as she heard herself use the title. “But you need to belong somewhere until you find that solution.”
He reached out and took her hand, twining his long green fingers with her shorter brown ones. “Thank you,” he said.
Naratonen watched Moki and Ukatonen playing in the trees, marveling at how deceptively normal they seemed. Living among humans had changed them, frighteningly so in Ukatonen’s case. It made Naratonen worry about how much he had changed since he and Anitonen had left Tiangi.
Ukatonen’s skin flickered in relaxed delight as he chased Moki through the trees. How could an enkar as strong and determined as Ukatonen have changed so much in so short a time? Naratonen had been shocked into stillness when Ukatonen returned after that disastrous first link, and formally renounced being an enkar. Naratonen shook his head. How could Ukatonen renounce his status? It was like renouncing your ears.
But Ukatonen was happy, full of the overflowing joy-fulness one normally found in a bami. According to Eerin, it was because he no longer had to strive for the perfection expected of an enkar.
Anitonen touched him on the shoulder. He turned to see what she was going to say.
“Have you spoken to him yet?”
“No,” flickered across Naratonen’s skin. “I haven’t found the right time.”
“Then we will have to make the right time,” Anitonen declared. “He knows more than any other enkar about humans. We need that knowledge.”
“But he is no longer an enkar,” Naratonen pointed out. He was still trying to comprehend what that meant.
“So he says,” Anitonen replied. “But that does not make it true. Ukatonen is needed, and we must make him understand that.”
Naratonen watched Ukatonen playing, green and gold sun dapples sliding across his laughing skin. “I don’t see how, en.”
“Neither do I, but somehow we must convince him.”
Naratonen looked up and felt a faint mist of regret cloud his skin. Ukatonen had come through so much to achieve this fragile happiness, and now he had to destroy it again.
“It will not be easy.”
“I can’t go back now,” Ukatonen said. “Moki needs me. And there’s Mariam. I want to stay here and help Mariam grow up.”
“And what of your people? They need you too,” Naratonen argued.
“I can best serve the Tendu by remaining here and continuing to learn about humans, and by teaching humans and Tendu about each other. You do not need me,” Uka-tonen said firmly. “You need more enkar who understand humans. Send them here, and I will teach them. But I will not go back to Tiangi until Mariam is old enough to go with us.”
“And when will that be?” Anitonen asked.
“Not for several years, at least,” Ukatonen said, feeling a twinge of guilt at how far he was stretching the truth.
“You are an enkar!” Naratonen insisted. “Your duty lies with the Tendu!”
“I am no longer an enkar, and I have no duties. I will stay here with Moki and with Eerin and her family.”
Naratonen recoiled, his skin roiling with pale orange swirls of horror.
“Other enkar have become hermits, retreating from their duties for a time,” Ukatonen told the two enkar. “What I am doing is not too different. As I am, I am not strong enough in the link to be an enkar. Perhaps I will never be. What good can I do on Tiangi, where I would only be a source of shame for the enkar? Here, I am valued. Each day I learn more about humans– who they are, how they think. And most importantly, I have a hand in shaping Moki and Mariam. Those two, raised together, will be a potent force in creating harmony between our people.”
“But how can we deal with these humans without you?” Anitonen demanded. “They want so much from us. And some of the villagers are growing impatient. They want the humans’ metal tools, and the strong ropes that do not rot.”
Amusement rippled over Ukatonen’s skin. “This is good. It gives humans and Tendu a reason to listen to each other.”
“Perhaps,” Anitonen said. “But we have no idea what die next step should be. We are so far from harmony. How can we trade without causing each other harm?”
“If you don’t know what the next step should be, then remain still until you know where to go,” Ukatonen told them.
“But– ” Naratonen began.
“Coming here was a good idea,” Ukatonen went on. “I will help you learn and give you advice, but I will not go back with you when you return.”
With that, he got up and left them.
When he was gone, Anitonen turned to Naratonen. “Well, what now?”
“I don’t know,” Naratonen admitted. “Wait, and hope that he changes his mind.”
A flicker of ironic amusement ran down Anitonen’s torso. “When have you ever known him to change his mind?”
Naratonen’s skin was dark and serious. “He has changed so much since he left us. Perhaps that, too, might have changed.”
Juna was sitting up and reading when Ukatonen came in, his skin roiling with emotion.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
“Naratonen and Anitonen want me to go back to Tiangi with them.”
Juna felt a clutch at her heart. Carefully keeping her face neutral, she set down her book. “And?”
“I said no. I told them that I wasn’t leaving until Mariam was old enough to come with us. Moki needs me, Mariam needs me, and you need me. Besides, I want to help you raise both of them.”
“Ukatonen,” Juna said, deeply moved by his decision. “What about you? What do you need? You’ve been away from your people for a long time. I worry about what this isolation is doing to you.”
“And what about Moki?” he said. “If I leave, he will be the only Tendu in a world of humans.”
“Perhaps Anitonen or Naratonen can stay to help.”
Ukatonen looked at her for a long moment. His golden eyes gleamed in the dim lamplight. “I don’t want to go back to Tiangi. There is no place for me there.”
“And here?” Juna asked him.
“Here I have you, Moki, your family, and many friends. There is useful work for me to do, and a whole new world to learn about. On Tiangi, I would be a cripple, and not, as your people call it, ‘disabled.’ Everyone would wonder why I had not chosen the honorable course and killed myself. I would be shunned and derided as less than honorable. Among the villagers, I would be a laughingstock. Among the enkar, I would be a source of shame.”
“Ukatonen, if you return, then you can be an example. You can show your people the lesson that we have learned.”
“Perhaps,” he said, looking away. “But not yet. I am not ready to go and be an exa
mple, Eerin. I am not yet strong enough.”
Juna reached out and took his hand. “You will be someday,” she said. “You will have to be. You can’t spend the rest of your life here. Someday you will have to go home again.”
He turned to look at her. “But not now. Anitonen and Naratonen seem to labor under the delusion that somehow I can straighten out all the problems that have arisen between the humans and the Tendu on Tiangi.” He shook his head. “I told them that I would stay here and teach other enkar about humanity, but I would not go back. If they accept my offer, I will need the help of you and your family. Are you willing to take on this burden?”
“You know that I will help you all I can, Ukatonen,” she said, “I will talk to my family, but I’m sure that they will be happy to do what they can to help.”
“We will find what we need when the time comes.” Ukatonen said. He stood. “Hopefully, this will benefit Moki as well. He needs more contact with his own people.”
“I hope they decide to do it,” Juna told him, smiling inwardly. It wasn’t just Moki who needed more contact with the Tendu.
* * *
Watching the two enkar struggle to comprehend human culture convinced Ukatonen that he had made the right decision. He had Moki teach them to speak human sound speech. Once Moki got over the initial awkwardness of teaching enkar, he proved to be an excellent instructor. It was hard for the enkar to learn from a mere bami. It was especially hard for Anitonen, who had helped Moki through the transformation from tinka to bami.
Ukatonen hid his amusement at the enkar’s shame, and watched as they began to appreciate and acknowledge Moki’s skill. It was a lesson all enkar badly needed to learn, he thought. If they sent him more enkar, Moki would be one of their teachers.
Despite their initial difficulties, the two enkar learned quickly, and were speaking Standard fluently enough to carry on short conversations in only a few days.
Anitonen and Naratonen came into their own on the diplomatic tour. The diplomats had been briefed on Nara-tonen’s interest in seeing Earth’s performing arts, and they were treated to a wide range of performances, ranging from Shakespeare in the original English to the sonorous and majestic Noh theater, the brash and brilliant Chinese operas, as well as atomic-age musicals, and plays and films from every era and age.