by Amy Thomson
Moki rippled amusement. “You are my sitik,” he replied. “Your home is my home, your life is my life. Every day you teach me more about how to live among your people. All I need is time, and useful work to do. Though perhaps our cabin could be warmer,” he suggested, “and perhaps more— ” he paused, searching for the correct word— “water in the air.”
“Humidity,” Juna told him. “The word is humidity.” She traced the letters on his arm, showing him how it was spelled. The word flared on his chest several times as he memorized it. Ukatonen practiced the word along with Moki.
“I’ll let the environmental technicians know. And I’ll ask the Life Support people if they’ll let you help them in the garden.”
Waves of blue coursed over Moki’s body. “Thank you, siti,” he said.
“I can’t promise anything, and if you are allowed to help, you must do exactly what the gardeners tell you to.” Moki nodded eagerly, and four horizontal bars flickered across Ukatonen’s chest in acknowledgment. “We look forward to learning the gardeners’ atwa,” the enkar told her. “It will be good to be of use.”
Juna smiled and was about to reply, when she heard them paging her over the ship’s public address system.
She swore in Amharic, the language of her mother. “I’m late for the staff meeting!”
At least I have a good reason for being late, she thought as she headed out the door at a run.
“Welcome, Dr. Saari,” Commander Sussman said as Juna took the last remaining seat. “Let’s begin, shall we?”
Juna listened as the ship’s divisions delivered their reports. It was a good, well-run ship, there were only a couple of minor problems, quickly solved. At last it was her turn.
“By now most of you have met Ukatonen and Moki,” she said. “Hopefully you’ve had time to read through my preliminary report on the Tendu.” She was greeted with mostly blank looks.
“I’m afraid that getting the ship under way has taken up all of the crew’s time, Dr. Saari,” the first mate told her apologetically. “But the crew is interested in the aliens, and will read the report as soon as they can. Perhaps you can summarize the details for us.”
Juna glanced at Commander Sussman, who nodded. “If you would be so kind, Dr. Saari. I’m sure the staff would appreciate it.”
“It is easy to underestimate the Tendu,” Juna began. “Their culture seems quite primitive at first glance, but they have been stable and at peace for many millenia. Their medical and biological sciences surpass our own in many respects. I was dying of anaphylactic shock in the forest when the Tendu found me. They created a symbiotic skin that protected me from the deadly allergens on the planet, and made it possible for me to speak Tendu skin speech. Because of the Tendu’s help, I am the first human to survive on the surface of a living alien world without an environment suit.” Juna paused a moment to let the implications of that sink in before going on.
“Moki and Ukatonen are highly intelligent, and moderately fluent in Standard. They can understand you if you use simple language and speak slowly and clearly. The Tendu language is visual. They “speak” in color and pattern. They also display emotions as color. Red is anger, orange is fear, turquoise is pleasure, and so on. There’s a complete listing in my report.
“When they’re speaking Standard, the Tendu spell the words out on their skin. If you have trouble communicating, try writing out what you are saying. Sometimes that helps. Their name for me is Eerin,” she said, writing out both the Standard spelling and the skin speech glyph.
“Ukatonen, the taller of the two, is an enkar. The enkar are the closest thing the Tendu have to a ruling body, though there is no formal government as such. Mostly the enkar visit villages and help solve problems. Each enkar’s word is law, and if an enkar’s formal judgment goes wrong, that enkar is expected to commit suicide. Ukatonen is almost a thousand years old, and highly respected among his people. He is accustomed to a high degree of respect, and should be treated with great politeness. Think of him as visiting royalty.
“The smaller one is my adopted son, Moki. He is about thirty-four years old. When I met him, he was a tinka, or juvenile, living in a village on the coast. I saved his life, and as a consequence, wound up adopting him. Ukatonen performed the physical transformation that made him into a bami, or sub-adult, and we’ve been together ever since. He is every bit as much my son as any child born of my body would be.”
Juna felt a fierce, protective pride as she remembered the joy of their presences merging during Mold’s first awakening as a bami. That moment of bonding had been the most profound rapport she had ever experienced. His delight and amazement at his own awareness had lifted her out of her loneliness and isolation. Caring for him had helped her make a place for herself among the Tendu.
“Dr. Saari, is it true that the Tendu eat their young?” one of the women in Life Support asked her.
The question jarred Juna from her reminiscences. Of all the differences between the Tendu and humans, that had been the hardest for her to accept. It was even harder to explain it to others, who didn’t have her understanding of the Tendu culture.
“Each year, a female Tendu lays hundreds of eggs, producing far more young than the land can support,” Juna told her. “The surplus tadpoles form a major source of protein for the Tendu during the rainy season.
“It seems harsh to us, but at that point in their life cycle, the tadpoles are barely aware of anything except food. If all of their offspring survived, Tiangi would be awash in Tendu.”
“Doesn’t it bother you?” the woman asked.
“Yes, it does,” Juna confessed, “but this is the way that the Tendu have ordered their society for longer man we have had history. We have no right to tell them how to live their lives.”
“Could you explain a little more about the bond between yourself and Moki?” Commander Sussman asked.
’The relationship between a bami and a sitik is not the same as the one between a human parent and child. A bami can survive quite well on its own. The task of a sitik is to prepare the bami for adulthood, to create a wise elder who is well-schooled in the ways of its village. Once the bami is mature, its sitik either dies or leaves the village and becomes a hermit or an enkar. The bonding process involves a physiological link between the sitik and its bami. Without frequent linking, the bami loses its will to live. If a sitik dies before its bami is mature, the bami will die as well. Moki had to come with me, because otherwise he would have died. Ukatonen came along to help with Moki, and to learn more about us.”
She paused, and a forest of hands rose in the air. She glanced at Commander Sussman, and the commander gave a fractional shake of her head.
“Most of your questions about the Tendu are answered in my report,” Juna said. “The important thing to remember is that Moki and Ukatonen are in a strange place, very far away from home. They feel -lost and alone. It’s going to take some time for them to adjust. I have a few requests that I would like to make on their behalf.
“The Tendu are finding their cabin too cold and too dry. Can Life Support do anything about this? They’re also homesick for greenery. Could they help out in the garden? Contact with living things would help make them feel more at home on board ship.”
The head of the Life Support division spoke. “As I recall, we set the controls for their cabin as high as they could go, given the conditions in the rest of the ship, but I’ll see what we can do about making things a little warmer. And we’d be glad to have more help in the garden.”
“There’s a couple of portable humidifiers in the infirmary,” Dr. Caisson volunteered. “And we might have a small heater as well.”
“Thank you, Louise,” the commander said. She turned to the head of Life Support. “Maria, could you raise the ambient temperature and humidity of the rest of the ship as well? I’d like Ukatonen and Moki to feel more comfortable throughout the ship. I’m sure we can all manage to cope with a more tropical environment for the sake of our guests.�
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Everyone smiled. Survey ships were generally on the cold side, something everyone complained about.
“Thank you, Commander,” Juna said. “That will be very helpful.” Not only would the Tendu be more comfortable, but the crew would have a reason to be grateful to them.
The commander continued. “I also want everyone on board to access Dr. Saari’s report on the Tendu. They are going to be our shipmates for several months; I think we should make an effort to understand them. Are there any more questions?”
“Dr. Saari, the Tendu’s inability to speak may cause some communications problems, especially when we get back home. How can we solve this?” It was Dr. Maass, one of the two Alien Contact specialists sent along to help with the Tendu.
Juna suppressed a surge of resentment. She didn’t need any help with the Tendu, and if she did, an Alien Contact specialist was the last person she’d turn to. A-C people tended to be extremely long on theory and very short on practical experience. Most of them resented her because she was a biologist, not a trained A-C specialist.
“That’s a good question, Don,” she replied. “I’m afraid I don’t know yet. The A-C team will need to discuss that.” She smiled at him, hoping her hostility didn’t show.
“Dr. Saari?” a voice spoke up hesitantly. It was the head of the Maintenance staff, a shy, mousy woman whose name Juna kept forgetting. “Some of my crew have mentioned that they would feel more comfortable if the Tendu wore clothing.”
“Thank you, Jeanne,” Don said, “That’s just the kind of feedback we need. It helps to know what makes people on board ship feel uncomfortable about the Tendu. That way, we’ll have some idea what problems people on Earth will have with Moki and Ukatonen. Not,” he said, seeing Juna sitting forward, about to interrupt, “that I think we need to turn the Tendu into imitation humans, but I think that Ukatonen and Moki need and want to know what bothers us.”
Juna sat back, pleased and relieved. Perhaps she could work with this A-C specialist after all. “You’re right, Dr. Maass, we should schedule some feedback sessions with the ship’s crew, in order to help us prepare the Tendu for Earth.”
“That’s a very good idea, Dr. Saari,” Commander Suss-man agreed. “You and Dr. Maass and the Tendu should discuss this and present something at our next staff meeting. Are their any more pressing questions?” She looked around, but no one spoke up. “In that case, thank you all for a good and useful meeting.” The commander gathered her papers together and stood.
Dr. Maass came up to Juna as she was leaving the meeting.
“I wanted to thank you for backing me up in there,” he said.
Juna shrugged, “It was a good idea. I’m glad you suggested it. I appreciate your help-. It must be hard for you, having to leave Tiangi to escort us to Earth.”
He shook his head. “Jen and I volunteered to come with you.”
“You left a whole world full of Tendu behind, just to study two Tendu?” Juna asked in surprise.
“Two Tendu, and you, Dr. Saari. You’re the one who made contact. You know things that none of the A-C specs on Tiangi know. I wanted the chance to learn from you.”
“You’re very kind, Dr. Maass, but the Tendu did most of the work,” Juna told him.
“I’ve watched you with the Tendu,” he said. “When you’re with them, you change— you become almost a Tendu yourself. I think that’s what enabled you to succeed.”
“Perhaps,” Juna said. She looked down, embarrassed by his praise. “But it isn’t easy.”
“Real contact never is,” he replied.
She looked up again, meeting his eyes. “No, it isn’t.”
Juna sat in the cafeteria, a cup of vile Survey coffee cooling slowly in front of her. The meeting had gone well. The crew seemed willing to accept the aliens. And Don had surprised her with his interest in her ability to work with the Tendu. That was encouraging, but Ukatonen was already in a decline, and Moki was worried. How was she going to help them adapt to life on board ship?
“Hey, Juna!”
Startled out of her brown study, Juna looked up. It was her lover, Bruce Bowles, a technician with the Survey. Juna had fallen in love with him on Tiangi. She smiled, slipped her fingers through his, and kissed him.
“You looked like you were going to stare a hole through that bulkhead. Is Moki all right?” he asked, sitting beside her. Bruce was fond of the little Tendu and tended to worry about him.
Juna shook her head. “Actually, it’s Ukatonen I’m worried about now. He’s depressed, homesick. I can’t blame him, really. It’s a big change for them. I miss Tiangi too.”
Bruce’s hand tightened on her shoulder. “I know,” he said, “but you’re home now, Juna. You’re back among your own people again.”
Juna nodded, but she remembered how connected she felt, living among the Tendu. Even though she was among her own people, she missed that sense of belonging.
“Earth to Juna, can you read me?” Bruce said.
“What?” Juna said, coming out of her reverie.
“You looked a million miles away.”
Juna smiled ruefully. “I’m sorry Bruce.” She looked down at her cold cup of bitter coffee. “Let’s go somewhere quiet. I can’t hear myself think.” It was a feeble excuse. The galley, between shifts, was almost empty.
“My place or yours?” Bruce said, taking her hand.
Juna looked up at him, “Yours, I think. Less chance of being interrupted.”
Juna rested her head against Bruce’s shoulder, feeling the sweet relaxation that followed good sex. Being with Bruce was good, but it would never take the place of allu-a. Linking seemed to satisfy a different desire than sex, less urgent perhaps, but no less important to her now. She could live without allu-a, she supposed, but it would be like losing the ability to see the color blue. She was glad that the two Tendu had come with her. It would have been impossible to give up both Tiangi and linking.
Ukatonen slowed to a walk just before the entrance, letting Moki hurry on ahead. They were late for their first day of work, but it would not do for an enkar to be seen hurrying. The humans could wait a moment or two longer. His ears flattened back against his head and his skin paled to beige in disgust as he thought of the humans’ obsession with clocks. Imagine living your life under the command of a dead thing! A cloud of olive-grey resignation passed over his skin. It was yet another thing to get used to.
The door to the garden hissed open as Moki approached it, and Ukatonen’s nostrils flared*wide at the welcome scent of green growing things and freshly dug soil. His skin flared turquoise with pleasure at the smell. This was the only living place on the whole ship. Even the hydroponic area, where most of the fresh food was grown, seemed eerie and mechanical; the plants’ growth was forced and artificial. Here, things grew at their own pace, in soil, not a chemical solution. Ukatonen felt himself relax as he walked through the door.
The humans were already at work. The gardeners straightened up and stared as the Tendu came in. Ukatonen could sense the humans’ discomfort at their presence. Several of them glanced away. Human emotions were still very hard for him to read. Were they embarrassed, angry, frightened? What were he and Moki doing to cause the humans this continual uneasiness?
One of the humans, a female, her hair shot through with the silver threads that marked an elder, set down her tools and stepped forward, her arm extended in greeting. She seemed more self-possessed than the others, but Ukatonen thought he detected traces of the same awkwardness, more carefully concealed.
“You must be the Tendu,” she said. “My name is Giselle.”
Ukatonen nodded. “How is it spelled?” he asked.
She wiped her hands on her trousers, pulled out a pad of paper, and wrote her name on it. Moki peered over her arm to see what she was writing.
“Thank you, Giselle,” the enkar responded, spelling out the words on his skin. “My name is Ukatonen, and this is Moki. Thank you for showing us the gardening atwa. We are honored t
o learn from you.”
“You’re welcome. I’m honored to be teaching you,” she replied with a smile. She picked up a tray of soil containing small plants. The plants had wide dark green leaves dappled with small white spots that looked like little stars. “This way,” she said beckoning them forward with a movement of her head.
She led them over to a patch of churned-up ground. It smelled rich and full of humus and nutrients, much more fertile than the red jungle soil that Ukatonen was used to. It was more like the soil they made for the dry season treetop plantings, compounded of mud and refuse from the bottom of a na tree, mixed with composted leaves and some coarse river sand. He stuck a spur into it, and nodded. “It’s good soil,” he said.
“We compost most of our waste and put it back into the soil,” Giselle told him.
“I would like to see how that is done sometime,” Ukatonen said.
Giselle shrugged. “Compost is compost. If you really want to see it, I’ll show you the recycling facility sometime.”
“Thank you, I’d be honored,” Ukatonen said.
“Sure,” Giselle returned. “Now, here’s what you do.”
She neatly transplanted one of the plants with a small metal tool, explaining what she was doing as she worked. Ukatonen’s ears lifted and clouds of pink and lavender crossed his body in surprise and relief. He had done this before, every dry season.
“What kind of plants are these?” Moki asked Giselle.
She smiled, “They’re melon plants. It’s a variety called Moon and Stars. It’s one of my favorites. Not only does it produce delicious fruit, but it’s pretty as well.”
Ukatonen’s ears lifted. “You grow plants because they look pretty?” he asked.
“Of course,” she said “Otherwise we would just be raising crops. We want this area to look beautiful, but it’s nice if we can grow some fresh food here as well. Gardening is all about growing plants in arrangements that are beautiful to look at, nice to smell, or even pleasant to touch.”
Giselle ran her hand along the branch of a small shrub, releasing a sharp and pungent aroma. She held her hand out to Moki. “Here, smell.”