by Amy Thomson
The next few days were a round of sleep, food, and water. Always when she awoke, the new creature was waiting by the bed. Once, Anito woke in the middle of the night to find the creature asleep on the floor beside her. The new animal’s patient concern puzzled Anito. There was no reason for it to do this. Anito had treated the creature with disdain and active hostility before she had undergone werrun.
Anito was now indebted to the creature. It was an obligation that she hated. As soon as she was able to travel, she would take the creature back to its own people. Then she would have discharged her obligation to the new creature, and be able to return to the village and choose another atwa.
Chapter 6
Juna heard a rustle at the door, and looked up. Knot came in, followed by its apprentice, whom Juna referred to as Bird, because its name sign resembled a bird. Their gathering bags bulged with fruit, greens, and meat. They unloaded their bags and sat beside Spiral’s bed.
Knot examined Spiral, running a hand over its torso, gently pinching a fold of skin. Juna leaned forward, eagerly watching for some sign of recovery. Then the alien linked with Spiral. It broke out of the link, ochre in color, and motioned to its apprentice. They talked for a few moments. Then Knot motioned to Juna to lie next to Spiral in bed. Spiral’s skin felt icy cold. Juna curled around the alien’s body, warming it. Knot piled the warm, moist leaves over them, and then linked with its apprentice and Spiral.
It was a long link; Spiral twitched several times, moving its head as though questing for something in its sleep. It chittered, and then lay still for a few moments, breathing heavily, then let out a long, low moan, and lay still, its breathing quiet and calm. Knot and its apprentice unlinked.
“Food,” Knot said, in response to Juna’s attempts to ask how Spiral was. “Need food. Talk later.”
Juna helped Bird prepare and serve the food. The two aliens ate a huge meal. As they were finishing up, a rustling came from Spiral’s bed.
Spiral’s eyes slid open. Juna leaned forward, her heart leaping with sudden hope. Spiral tried to sit up. Juna slid an arm around the alien’s shoulders and helped it sit; then Knot sent Juna for food and water.
Juna brought a gourd of water and a rolled leaf full of mush. She wanted to let Spiral know that she was glad it was awake, but her skin produced only meaningless blotches of color. Spiral drank and washed, then handed the gourd back to Juna, thanking her. Juna tried to reply and failed. Spiral lifted its ears and drew back its head in surprise.
Spiral turned and said something to Knot. Juna recognized the name sign they had given her, but the rest was incomprehensible. Knot replied. Spiral lifted its ears even higher, turning a deep, surprised purple. It gave Juna a long, considering look. She offered Spiral the leaf cone full of mush. It took the cone from her and ate greedily.
When Spiral finished the mush, Juna helped the alien relieve itself, and bathe. Then she picked Spiral up and carried it over to a fresh pile of leaves. The alien was as light as a small child, despite the fact that it was only a few inches shorter than Juna. She remembered how light her mother’s body had been after she had died from malnutrition and cholera. She had looked like a bundle of sticks held together by skin. For a moment, Juna was angry at the alien for living when so many people she cared about had died.
The alien recovered rapidly. Three days after Spiral awoke, the alien told her that they would leave in another couple of days, and took her down to the storerooms to collect the supplies needed for the trip. Juna was busy filling gathering bags with packets of dried food when Spiral pulled the helmet from Juna’s suit out from under a pile of gourds. Juna stared at it in disbelief for a few seconds. She had thought it was rotting in the jungle where she had collapsed.
She turned to Spiral, and flushed a deep purple. She pointed at the helmet, then gestured to the rest of the storeroom. Spiral watched her, head cocked, ears spread wide. Finally it flickered understanding, and tossed aside more dried grass. Underneath was Juna’s suit. She lifted it up and examined it. It was beyond repair, sliced to ribbons and covered with mold, but it reminded her of all she had left behind. Tears welled up. Juna dropped the suit, then knuckled away the tears before they could spill down her face. The salt in her tears stung her fingers, and she put them in her mouth. The minor annoyance served as a poignant reminder of how alien her body had become.
Spiral held out Oliver’s helmet and suit. Juna picked them up, remembering Oliver’s collapse, his breath wheezing in and out of his lungs. What had happened to him? Could he still be alive?
Juna pointed from her suit to Oliver’s, turning a deep, questioning purple. The alien watched her, and shook its head. On its chest two figures in suits appeared. They were lying on the ground. Green aliens appeared; the suits faded away. One of the figures was pink, the other brown. Spiral pointed from Oliver’s suit to the pink figure on its own chest. As Juna watched, the pink figure turned pale silver, the color of death. The aliens carried the brown figure away, leaving Oliver behind. Spiral pointed to Oliver’s suit and shook its head again.
Oliver was dead, Juna realized. Oliver had been the tough one, the survival expert, but she had outlived him. He had been so patient with ~jer. always giving her a word of encouragement when things were tough. She remembered his compassion when the botanist Hiro, their final surging crewmate, had died. Oliver had held him, talking gently, sooth-ngly, as Hire’s breathing grew more and more labored. Then, after they had laid Hiro out and covered his dead body with leaves, he had held her, je’.img her cry out her grief and fear. Remembering, Juna was unable to sop the stinging tears of grief and loneliness.
A cool hand brushed her shoulder and she looked up. It was Spiral, :chre with concern.
Juna felt suddenly angry. She didn’t want the alien’s concern. She •anted to be home again and safe. It didn’t understand; it couldn’t understand her. It was an alien.
Then she remembered how Spiral had hissed at her during the funeral, when she had tried to offer sympathy to it. She smiled. Neither of them understood the other. At least they had that in common. She clasped the alien’s hand.
“Thank you,” Juna said aloud. She tried to make her skin express her “Jnanks, but produced only garbled waves of color.
The alien flushed dark green. It picked up Oliver’s suit, folded it, and neld it out to her. She smiled and took it. She would take the suit back with her, so that the Survey could give it to his family.
Spiral rummaged through a pile of nets. It pulled out her pack and Driver’s. Juna opened them, taking out ordinary human artifacts, which were priceless treasures now. There were maps, her multipurpose knife, a first aid kit, a radio, sealed packages of rations, extra clothes, a canteen, a tent. Down at the bottom, folded into a compact oval, was her computer.
Juna turned on the radio. There was nothing, not even static. She opened the case with the screwdriver on her knife.
“Farraddbenge!” she muttered in Amharic, when she had pried the case open. The radio was packed with fluffy black mold, the chips blackened and useless. She tried Oliver’s radio, but it didn’t work either. Spiral picked up the useless radio and examined it, ears wide with curiosity. Juna frowned; allowing the alien to examine the radio was a breach of Contact Protocols, but she could see no tactful way of stopping it.
Juna unfolded the computer. It came alive with a polite chime as she activated it. Relief flared on her skin. At last she could record her observations. The computer would be a powerful tool to help her unravel the aliens’ language. Spiral’s ears lifted and it flushed pink in surprise. Juna smiled, then frowned as she realized a working radio would be more useful than a working computer. The Survey had tried for years to incorporate a radio into the nanocomps, but they needed too much power, especially on a planet like this, where radio reception was problematical at best. Even if the radio had worked, she probably couldn’t have reached the base. At least she had her computer.
Juna brightened the screen and peered at the familiar
menu of configuration options, a status report on the computer’s condition, and the time and date.
“Perkele!” Juna muttered in Finnish as she saw the date on the computer screen. It was much later than she had thought. She checked the activity file, fighting back a wave of fear. The clock had not been reset since she had first arrived on board ship. In desperation she scrabbled through Oliver’s pack, and checked the date on his computer.
The clocks were running within a second of each other. The survey flyer had crashed in the jungle sixty-four days ago. Base camp would be dismantled in a week’s time. In another three days, the mother ship would leave orbit. If she didn’t hurry, she would be marooned here forever.
Chapter 7
Anito paused to catch her breath. They had been traveling for five days now. Ninto had been right. She should have waited a few more days before leaving. Her body was still changing, drawing on her scant energy reserves. Even the creature’s cautious pace exhausted her. Her body ached all over. She wanted to hide somewhere and sleep for a week.
During the allu-a Ilto did with the new creature on its first night in the village, he had dampened its panic response, and improved its reflexes. It no longer froze in terror when it looked down, but it was still learning to trust its new reflexes. Driven by the sudden urgency that blossomed when the creature found that noisy dead-but-alive box, it learned quickly. Every day it traveled faster, moved with more confidence. Unfortunately, the new creature was learning faster than Anito was healing.
Anito’s tired body protested as she leaped to the next tree, where the creature was waiting for her. Slanting bars of golden light pierced the canopy. It was getting late. Anito could smell the rich sour scent of a nearby tree full of ripe geramben. She was intensely hungry. If they stopped here for the night they would eat well with relatively little effort. Tomorrow morning they could gather supplies for the next few days of the trip. It would give her a chance to rest and recover her strength.
Anito put a hand on the creature’s shoulder, communicating by gesture and skin speech that they would stop here. She led it to the geramben tree, showed it how to recognize which fruit were ripe, and left the new creature to gather fruit while she hunted. Hanging her bag of gear on one of the branches, she took with her a gathering bag and her blowgun and darts.
The hunting was good. Here in the wild spaces between village territories there were no restrictions on what she could kill. She soon bagged two fat ooloo and was stalking a garban when she smelled the other Tendu. He was male, and had passed this way very recently. She shot at the garban and missed, then began tracking the Tendu, following his scent through several trees. She heard a rustling behind her and then something brushed her shoulder. Startled, Anito leaped up to another branch before looking back. It was the Tendu she had been tracking. He was taller than any Tendu she had ever seen. Judging from his height and the length of his muzzle, he must be extremely old. Ripples of laughter coursed across his body.
“I am Ukatonen,” he told her. “What takes you from Narmolom so soon after werrun? You should be home resting.”
Anito drew back her head in surprise. He had the fourfold name sign of an enkar. The enkar passed from village to village, settling disputes. They were hundreds of years old, and reputed to have strange powers. They moved through the forest more silently than the wind. He had approached her without her knowing; that hadn’t happened since she was a tinka. He even knew what village she was from. She was impressed and a little frightened.
Anito had seen only a few enkar. One had come after their last chief elder died. She had chosen Ilto to fill the chief elder’s place. Once in a while, one would show up at the village, stay a few days, and then move on. They were treated with great respect and given the best that the village had to offer. To do otherwise would mean great loss of face for the entire village.
“What’s your name?” Ukatonen asked.
“You don’t already know?”
The enkar rippled laughter. “If I did, then I might know why you are out here in the wilderness so soon after werrun. Your sponsor should be ashamed.”
“Ninto tried to make me stay!” Anito protested.
“Then why didn’t you listen?”
“I had a promise to keep. It involved my atwa.”
“It couldn’t have waited a few more days?”
“No,” Anito told him. “But I was going to spend tomorrow morning resting and gathering supplies for the rest of the trip.”
“Stay with me tonight,” Ukatonen offered. “My nest is already built, and it would be easier to enlarge it than for you to build a new one. I can help you gather supplies tomorrow. Where are you going?”
“To the coast, near Lyanan.”
“In that case, we can travel together. I’m heading there also.”
Atmo paused. It was tempting. The new creature was terrified that its [[rwmpkt]] would leave it behind. If they did, then Anito would be stuck with [[::]] as her atwa. The enkar could get them to Lyanan faster. Anito would [[cam]] a lot traveling with an enkar. Besides, she couldn’t refuse the enkar’s [[J6nr]] without causing her entire village to lose face.
“Thank you, en,” said Anito, using the most formal form of address, [[3am rm]] not traveling alone. My companion is—unusual. It might give [[inHHmse-]] Perhaps you should meet it before you decide whether to give us mir gift of your company.”
Ulcatonen’s ears went up. “This sounds interesting. Please lead me to jew companion.”
It was growing dark when they reached the geramben tree. The new (Oiracure was watching two hananar birds flutter in their courting dance, [[ihe]] female’s golden throat feathers gleaming in the fading light. Disturbed [[fcc]] their approach, the two birds flew away, piping alarm calls as they [[wbol ]]The new creature turned toward them, giving Ukatonen a good look at its flat, small-mouthed face and tiny ears.
Ukatonen’s head went back and he flushed an excited pink. “What kind of creature is it?” he asked Anito.
“I don’t know. We found it dying in the woods. Saving its life cost the lives of two of our elders. One of them was my sitik.”
“Why are you taking it to the coast?”
“Its people are near Lyanan. I’m taking it back to them.”
The new creature approached, purple with curiosity, occasional flickers of ochre concern blotching its skin. Anito flushed a reassuring ieep blue and the creature relaxed.
“It speaks!” Ukatonen said in excited tones of dark magenta on bright pink.
“Not really,” Anito told him, “but it can communicate, and it understands some of what we say.” Anito felt the weight of her exhaustion. She longed for a big meal and a chance to rest. “I mean no offense, en, but I im very tired, and the creature doesn’t travel well after dark. Could we go to your nest? I can tell you more about the new animal when we get there.”
“What?” Ukatonen said. He had been watching the creature with an excitement so intense that he glowed. “Oh, of course. I apologize. Here, let me help carry some of your things.” Blue-green amusement rippled down Anito’s back. She liked this enkar. His fascination with something new reminded her of Ilto.
Ukatonen had built himself a neat and cozy nest at the top of a tall quinjara tree. He hung a chunk of glowing fungus on a branch to provide some light and began enlarging the nest to accommodate his guests. When Anito moved to help, he told her to rest. Relieved despite herself, Anito settled her aching body against the branch.
The new creature nudged her gently, and offered Anito a geramben. Anito refused. It would be rude to eat before the enkar did. The creature offered her the fruit again. She could see that it was concerned for her. She must look as tired as she felt.
“Go ahead, Anito,” Ukatonen said. “You need to eat. Save your formal manners for banquets.”
“But—”
“I’ll eat when I’m done.”
Anito accepted the fruit, peeled it, and bit into it. It was delicious. She flushed a brill
iant turquoise, and closed her eyes, savoring its sweetness. This was a truly exceptional strain. She should save the seeds. She opened her eyes and saw that the new creature was also eating. Anito glanced anxiously at Ukatonen, but he was busy weaving branches into the end of the nest. Anito let the creature go ahead and eat; she was too tired to stop it.
Ukatonen finished the nest and beckoned them into it. Anito settled against the leafy pile with a contented ripple of weariness. She wanted to sleep till next month. Ukatonen sat down beside her, spurs upward, asking for allu-a.
With an effort Anito shook herself awake. Her arms felt as heavy as boulders. She could barely summon the energy to clasp arms and link with the enkar. Ukatonen’s presence rushed over her like the current of a river. Anito was caught up and swept along by his strength. Even Ilto, whose presence had been as warm as the sun and as constant as the rain, could not compare with Ukatonen’s strength. Ilto had taught her to read other living creatures, but she had never been able to read herself this clearly. Every cell of her body stood out in sharp focus. Anito wondered whether this new clarity was due to the changes brought on by werrun, or Ukatonen’s skill.
She relaxed and allowed Ukatonen to clear the fatigue from her blood. After five days alone in the wilderness, contact with another Tendu felt wonderful. She hadn’t realized how lonely she had been until she felt Ukatonen’s presence within her. Even so, it was strange to be in allu-a with a Tendu who was not from her village. She had linked with strange bami only a few times, when her village was on migration. It had felt all wrong, like finding a tumbi fruit on a yaminay vine. That wrongness had frightened her. With Ukatonen, she was too overwhelmed to be afraid. She had no choice but to yield to his power.
At last Ukatonen broke the link. Anito, dazed and bemused by the impelling force of his presence, sat motionless for a few moments, gathering her scattered thoughts.
