Starport: Zeta Prime (Alt)

by S. A. Jackson

  “I have to go for the day,” he said.

  Immediately she thought he was going back to the colony, perhaps for revenge, and she grabbed his arm and shook her head wildly. No. To make sure he got her point, she also gestured to his bandaged wound.

  “I am not going out to fight.” He laughed at her, making arm movements towards the forest and also shaking his head. She released him, relieved.

  “This is your village now, go meet some of the others and relax,” he said to her before he left.

  Jillian sighed. If only he knew just how hard that may be. She was fearful about going back out there, but her grumbling tummy and newly found acceptance of her situation motivated her to swing her legs to the side of the bed and prepare herself for whatever lay ahead. She still felt partly responsible, especially now she suspected Faron had gone out and purposely sought the men, but she needed to put on a strong front.

  She jumped as there was a knock on the door. To her surprise, Sennan was standing there holding an armful of new clothes. Jillian was suddenly nervous, this woman’s son had been seriously hurt because of her, because he had wanted to give her justice for her treatment. She half-expected to be scolded, or given the cold shoulder as some of the women had yesterday. Her smile was nervous as Sennan placed the clothes on the bed, but she stood and held herself confidently, reluctant to show any cracks, any weaknesses that could be used against her.

  As Sennan straightened up, Jillian rushed towards her, and hugged her close.

  “I’m so sorry Faron got hurt. I didn’t know that he was going to them, I wouldn’t have let him go if I had.” She pleaded, wanting the respect of this woman more than anything. Wanting acceptance.

  It was with relief that she felt Sennan’s arms close across her back, rubbing comfortingly. After a moment, she held Jillian at arm’s length and looked at her with crinkled amber eyes as non-judgmental and kind as they had been when she met her.

  Sennan spoke a sentence, but it was not in her language and Jillian did not understand it. She had made out the name ‘Faron,’ but that was all. Sennan had an expectant expression, as if she were waiting for Jillian’s response. Frowning, Jillian lifted her shoulders in an apologetic shrug.

  “Faron his own mind,” Sennan tried again. The fluctuating tone and high pitch had Jillian concentrating hard, trying to decipher what had been said. As the pieces formed together in her mind, she figured out that Sennan had been trying to tell her that Faron made his own decisions, that she was not at fault. But way, way more important than this verbalized forgiveness, was the realization that Sennan had just spoken to her in English.

  Jillian was stunned. More than stunned, she couldn’t believe that the woman knew any English at all, let alone enough to reply to her statement and allay her worries. She laughed out loud, delighted at having someone to communicate with.

  “You speak English?” She asked her, speaking slowly and clearly, giving her the chance to understand as best she could.

  “Some.” Sennan waved her hand, acting nonchalant but looking pleased that Jillian had got what she’d said. Jillian clapped her hands together. This was perfect, now she could pretend to learn their language much quicker, if Sennan knew enough English to teach her the basics. She could just make out that she was a really quick learner.

  “Dress. I wait.” Sennan proudly instructed her as she closed the door to offer some privacy and waited outside. Jillian was excited–happy that her mate’s Mother had not been unkind. Knowing she had her as an ally made the prospect of facing the rest of the tribe just that little bit easier than having to do so alone. And it was so good to be able to converse with someone and be understood. It was a lonely thing, speaking a different tongue from your husband.

  The sun was already hot as the two walked to the main hut. Jillian was getting used to the persistent red dust that clung to her feet. It was soft to walk upon, and much nicer looking than the brown dirt of Earth. A couple of females were by the water pump, and called hellos to Sennan as they passed. They nodded politely at Jillian. Faron’s speech having seemed to have been taken on board—by those two, at least.

  Sennan explained to her how to say hello. Firstly, by stating the English and then following it slowly with their own word. Of course, Jillian was more than aware of this, but spoke it clumsily a few times over, allowing her Mother-In-law to correct her diction until she got it spot on. The two smiled at each other as they reached the communal hut, an unspoken bond between them now.

  It was refreshingly cool inside the hut, the chunky stones and cement giving shelter from the heat of the morning. A few groups gathered on some of the tables–mostly women and the young ones, eating breakfast leisurely.

  To her dismay, Misha was the first person she saw. She unfurled herself from her seat and glared at her for a second before leaving the room, her face a picture of disgust.

  Jillian recognized a more few faces. The aliens all looked very similar. There was little variation of their hair color and athletic forms. But the more time she spent here the more she saw the tiny things that gave each their individuality. Some had larger pointed ears, some wider noses or pointier chins. She noticed Fenn, whose lips were fuller and a deeper pink than some others. She sat with an elder female and two of the cutest, mini males played at her feet.

  As Fenn caught her eye, she made her way over. Jillian and Sennan stopped and Sennan greeted her, inquiring after Ashan.

  “He’s making a good recovery. I’m so thankful. I owe Jillian an apology probably,” she said, darting her gaze across.

  “I’ll tell her. Although I’m sure there’s no need for it.” Sennan replied.

  “I was angry. I took it out on her.” Fenn lifted Jillian’s hand to her own forehead. It was a gesture she was not familiar with, but she smiled at Fenn, glad that her animosity had lifted.

  Jillian’s stomach grumbled loudly, she had not eaten since lunchtime the day before, and was ravenous. The rumble was audible to both of the alien females and the three erupted into laughter, ice well and truly broken.

  Sennan beckoned Jillian to the door at the top of the hut, and opened it onto a surprisingly functional kitchen. There was a sturdy table in the middle – made from red bark, of course, and counters of the same color lined two of the walls. A female she had not seen before pounded some kind of dough on top of the table, and then placed it into a large clay tray. On the counters, shiny domes filled with hot stones made a kind of hob, Jillian assumed—seeing a pot bubbling away on one of the stone piles.

  “Meena. I’m showing Jillian around. Plus, we need a morning meal–this one’s starved.” Sennan explained to the woman at the table. She dusted her hands off down her skirt and came over to them.

  “It’s all ready over there, help yourselves,” she said kindly. She looked slightly older than Sennan, her hair almost all white and unlike any of the other females she had seen so far, had a slightly rotund figure.

  Passing her a dish, Sennan taught Jillian the word for ‘bowl’ and waited until it was spoken correctly before ladling some of the creamy white mash from the pot into it. Jillian shook her head in quiet wonder. In the colony, none of the humans had any idea of the similarities between them and the natives of Zeta Prime. Sure, their lifestyles were basic, but she was sure they would be as shocked as her to discover kitchens, showers and community living. How narrow-minded and assuming of them to move onto a planet without even the thought of integration.

  Jillian crammed the sweet mix into her mouth, too hungry to be fussed about being ladylike. Sennan’s mouthfuls were slightly more delicate, scooping morsels onto her fingers while she made small talk with Meena, who had returned to another mound of dough.

  Once she had finished eating, Sennan walked around the kitchen with her, pointing out certain things and teaching her the name for them in their language. It was insightful to Jillian, she had a strong grasp of the cat-people’s tongue but it was not comprehensive. She saw that they indeed had something that looke
d like cheese, goodness knows how–and that the dough Meena had been kneading was kind of like bread—as she was encouraged to sample a piece that was retrieved from a kiln. It melted in her mouth, and had that distinctive sweetness they seemed to add to most of their food. It was delectable.

  “Everybody helps out. I mostly bake in the kitchen until lunchtime, and others drift in and out. There’s no set place for anyone, most tend just to do whichever suits them that day. I just seem to have found my niche here.” Meena chuckled.

  “Can I help,” Jillian asked Sennan, hoping that it would look like watching the woman work had prompted her, rather that her words? She had to repeat herself, but Sennan finally understood. She and Meena bustled around her, showing her how to mix and then work the ingredients, ready them to be placed into the kiln. Meena giggled at the stilted broken English that they spoke on occasion, and got great joy from pointing to various objects and hearing Jillian give their English name.

  She worked until lunchtime, glad for the sense of purpose, wanting to be as much use as she could be. This was her life now, she wanted to chip in and be respected–for herself and for Faron. Females popped in every so often, some of them helping to chop foreign-looking plants ready for lunch, some just briefly visiting, spooning the breakfast mix into bowls and carrying them into the main room. It was really old fashioned, the women in the kitchen and the men out–God knows where—but it was warm and happy, too. They may have had absolutely no technology, but they had a wonderful sense of togetherness. Misha had been her only experience of any negativity in the attitude of the aliens–and was very much the odd one out in that respect, she thought thankfully.

  All the cat-people that visited appeared impressed by Jillian’s willingness to join in, she heard nothing but compliments as they stopped to chat. But the person who made her heart swell the most was Sennan, who kept glancing at her with pride shining in her eyes. If she could have ever picked a Mother, it would have been her. Having never known her own Mom, this acceptance was a new thing for her. For the first time ever, Jillian felt as though she belonged somewhere.

  Chapter Seventeen

  A week passed almost blissfully. Jillian discovered the simple way of life suited her. She would occasionally think back to her hectic, gadget-filled days in the colony and couldn’t honestly say that she missed it. The only pang she ever got was when she thought of Mikey–she hoped he had moved on and wasn’t risking his own life and status in order to clear her name.

  Each morning, Faron would go out to ‘work.’ She had yet to discover what this entailed. Her pretense at learning the language meant that she could now have careful, broken conversation with him, mindful of not speaking too fluently too quickly.

  They laughed often at the pieces of conversation they had, her purposely fumbling her words in order to get the delight she felt from his smiles. But since they had begun their relationship mostly through touch, there was a deepness between them that seemed to not require many words, even when they were able to use them.

  “I love you.” She told him in English every day, after he’d leaned in to kiss her goodbye for the day.

  “You are my forever.” He always replied. Technically, that was their most direct translation of the English phrase that she used in the Zeta Prime language, but she liked to stick to her language to tell him, it seemed to feel more genuine.

  They made love every night–sometimes tenderly, sometimes energetic and intensely forceful. Each time it was sexy, and the most wholly satisfying sex she had ever had. He concentrated on her pleasure first and foremost, always.

  She had not had any encounters with Misha since the day she had been shown the kitchen. There was talk of her during meal times, when the men were still out during the day. A few of the females were concerned about her bitterness and detachment from the tribe. Jillian was not so worried. She had more knowledge of jealousy from her own people. The aliens found such dark emotion strange. They were a peaceful, happy race, unfamiliar with the prolonged resentment that she displayed. Jillian felt as though these feelings would run their course within Misha, that she would work it out in her own time.

  Sennan came to her each morning, and introduced her to different parts of village life. She had met most of the tribe by this point–introduced by Sennan as family which gave her a lovely warm glow. She and her Mother-In-Law had formed a strong bond. Chat between them was fairly fluid now, what with Sennan’s mix of English and Jillian’s growing admission of the local dialect.

  This morning was no different as there was a familiar knock on the door. Jillian was dressed and ready for the day as she greeted Sennan with a wide smile. Summertime was in full swing on Zeta Prime, and the heat of the sun already stung her skin with a burn. Sennan sometimes rubbed earth onto her shoulders if they were outside, to try and stop her skin from burning. They were not used to the delicacy of human skin–their own seeming unaffected no matter how long they exposed themselves to the fierce yellow ball in the sky, and it had taken a lot of explaining to Sennan, but she was instantly protective upon learning about it.

  “We are going to the fields today.” Sennan told her, as they made their way past the communal hut, past the shower and across a path made in the overgrown shrub land behind the village.

  Jillian was intrigued since, apart from the day of her and Faron’s bonding ceremony, she had never left the main dwellings of the village before. As the landscape opened up, she could barely believe her eyes. Here before her seemed to be some kind of farm.

  It was vast in comparison to the space she had called home for the last couple of weeks. To her left, two large fields sprawled, containing highly cultivated rows of various plants. Most were a bright green in color—some just shoots poking from the red ground, some with massive green leaves spilling across acres. There were already a large number of the cat-people in amongst them.

  “We grow our vegetables here and we will need to help today. Most of them need to be picked ready for the new crop,” Sennan explained.

  Jillian spun round to take in the farm, and saw that to her right were several fenced areas–filled with a few beasts. These creatures looked a little like the cattle that they had on Earth. Large four-legged mammals. Except that their horns were twisted into long, tight spirals, and their skin a tough looking, mottled brown–like that of a crocodiles. Inside each enclosure was a ramshackle hut–presumably where the beast were locked in for the night. Close to where the beasts were, she saw some of the men heaving great lumps of a spiky red grass into huge feeding trays and a small group working on a wooden contraption.

  “Is this where the men come every day? Is this what Faron does,” Jillian asked, almost relieved that the most danger he was putting himself in was by farming, rather than fighting.

  “Yes. The men tend to the beasts. They are not domesticated.” She chuckled and motioned to the wooden thing some of them were constructing.

  “This is Faron’s project. He comes to farm every day but has been designing a tool to help us re-sow the fields ready for new crops. He’s a clever boy.” She spoke proudly.

  “So why do the men go out to hunt in the forest then,” Jillian asked? If they had all they needed here, why leave at all? She craned her neck to try and catch a glimpse of her husband at work but there was no sign of him.

  “We need birds and their eggs. There’s no catching them and fencing them off, let me tell you.”

  Jillian had seen these birds before, crashing up through the trees. They were imposing, monstrous things with a wing span the height of any man. She loved this race and their simplicity, impressed with their farm, their self-sustaining survival.

  The fields before her looked stunning, the contrast of the green crops against the rouge earth striking. Sennan handed her a woven basket as they entered the field, Jillian twisted her head once more.

  “So where is Faron today,” she asked, hoping to catch sight of him?

  “He’s probably gone to hunt I expect–looks like
Camil and Charin have gone with him.” Sennan looked to where most of the men were and continued down the field, unconcerned.

  Jillian however, felt a few pricks of worry. The last time Faron had taken his brother and Charin out had ended in disaster, and she sincerely hoped that hunting birds was all he was doing.

  * * * *

  Faron and his men were indeed hunting, but Faron also had to do his checks of the invaders. Ordinarily, he would have gone alone–watching as he did from the branches. This time he felt it prudent to bring Charin and Camil.

  “I want to make sure that there are none of their tracks leading into the jungle. That it seems like business as usual in both of the places Jillian was.” He informed them.

  “Then we are leaving, yes?” Camil wanted to clarify.

  “Yes. I want peace of mind that we did not cause more trouble than I intended. I want to make sure they are not seeking retribution or looking for us.”

  The two men seemed wary, which was precisely the reason that Faron wanted to force them to go. The unknown bred fear and he didn’t want this to cause doubt in his strongest men.

  “We still need to watch them on occasion, to make sure they are not planning an invasion on our homes like they did with the other tribe. The justice I wanted has been served. Now, we go back to observing. If there is any evidence that they are coming for us, we go back to gather men to fight. Otherwise, we stay hidden and peaceful. Don’t forget, if we remove their weapons they are powerless against us.”

  Both nodded at their leader–knowing this to be the case. They visited the bunker first, the force field was back up and it looked like the same guard was doing the rounds - his face was a little bruised but other than that everything looked as it always had.

  Travelling south, they reached the gateway site with speed. Faron looked closely at the place Jillian had been most of the time. The construction they had been building was still in ruins, although the debris had been cleared into neat piles, and it was obvious that there was urgent work going on to rebuild the thing.