by Amy Thomson
Gently, Eerin slid Anito out of the link, patted Anito’s arm affectionately, and piled the rest of the bedding over her. Anito settled herself into the warmth of her bed and fell asleep.
Anito stood with Ninto, waiting for the judges to come out and announce which candidates had passed the test. The ten-day fishing trip had done a lot to restore them all. Ukatonen had lost most of the worn look he had acquired during the testing. Moki was as happy as a fat ooloo in a patch of sunlight, and for that matter, so was Eerin. Ninto was beginning to put on some weight and no longer looked like a walking skeleton.
Ten days of lazy living beside the river had improved her own spirits. Her energy level was higher, and she no longer lost her temper at the slightest provocation. She would be glad when the test results were announced and they could go back to the river for some more fishing. Anito wanted to do as little as possible for the next month or two.
The crowd of enkar parted to let Figotonen and the other judges walk to the speaker’s mound. The candidates and their sponsors fell in behind them. Moki and Eerin squeezed through the crowd until they were standing just behind Ukatonen and the others.
When everyone had settled into place, Figotonen held his hand up to indicate he was about to speak. The assembled enkar settled into stillness to watch his words.
“The following candidates have passed the test: Hisatonen, Anitonen, Bikotonen, Gesatonen, and Suzatonen. Jisato, Ninto, and Konito may return to be tested next year.”
It took Anito a moment to recognize her new fourfold name sign, changing her name to Anitonen. Her initial surge of joy died quickly as she realized that Ninto hadn’t passed the test. She looked over at her tareena. What would they do now?
Ninto laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Anito—I mean Anitonen. I’m sorry I didn’t pass.”
“You’ll pass next time,” Anitonen told her. “I’m sure of it.”
“What should we do now?” Ninto asked Ukatonen.
“I don’t know. First, I need to talk to Figotonen and the others, and find out what you need to work on to pass next year’s test. Then we can worry about what to do next.”
They huddled disconsolately in their room, repairing fishing gear, and picking disinterestedly at their dinners until Ukatonen returned. He looked tired and defeated.
“What happened?” Anitonen asked.
“Well, they want Ninto to choose a different sponsor. Naratonen volunteered. I think he would be a good choice; the judges said that Ninto needed to work on her quarbirri some more. It was, apparently, a very close decision. She should pass next year with no problem at all. There’s one more thing, though,” he said, addressing Ninto directly. “They want to separate you and Anitonen.”
“What!” “Why?” Ninto and Anitonen said almost simultaneously.
“They think that the two of you are too close.”
“Why?” Eerin wanted to know.
“Because Anitonen is an enkar now. She is expected to be solitary, to avoid ties that might sway her judgment.”
“But you aren’t solitary. We’ve been living in gatherings full of other enkar.”
“This is a gathering, not a village, Eerin, and we are enkar. We are expected to avoid deep emotional ties to any person or place. Ninto and Anito are from the same village, and they are tareena. That is a deep tie, and if they are both to become enkar, this tie must be cut. This is why so few villagers are willing to become enkar. We have no people and no place of our own. We are expected to be complete in ourselves, even when we are among others.”
“How soon will we be leaving?” Anitonen asked.
“We’ll be staying here. It’s the closest gathering of enkar to Lyanan. Ninto, you’ll have to talk to Naratonen about when and where you two will be going.”
“Isn’t there anything you can do?” Eerin asked.
Irritated by Eerin’s persistence, Anitonen looked away. No, there was nothing Ukatonen could do. She was an enkar now, and was not allowed to have any ties. It was probably inevitable that they would be separated like this.
Ninto touched her shoulder, and Anitonen looked up. “They can send us far away from each other, but they can never separate us where it counts,” Ninto said, brushing Anitonen’s head and spurs. “We will always be together inside ourselves. You are my tareena. We are linked by our sitik and our memories, no matter where we are.”
“When you pass your test, and we are both enkar, then we can spend more time together,” Anito responded.
Ninto flickered tentative agreement. “I hope so.”
Naratonen came in then and addressed Ninto. “Ukatonen told you about the judges’ decision.”
Ninto flickered yes.
“Are you willing to take me as your sponsor?”
“Yes, I am,” Ninto replied in formal patterns.
“Then we will be leaving early tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, en. I will be ready.”
“Good,” he said briskly. He glanced over at Anitonen, who was the color of a heavy-bellied rain cloud. “I’ll leave you to pack and make your farewells,” he continued, in softer, gentler patterns.
“Thank you, en,” Ninto told him.
Anitonen looked away, anger and grief boiling just beneath the surface of her skin. She was losing her last connection to her former life. Soon there would be nothing left but her memories.
Ninto touched her cheek. Anitonen looked up at her tareena. Ninto held out her arms for a link. Anitonen nodded and the two of them sat across from each other, clasped arms, and linked.
It was one of the most intense links Anitonen had ever experienced. They merged as deeply and completely as possible. It took a long time to separate and return to themselves, and perhaps the separation wasn’t entirely complete. Ninto’s presence clung to Anito like a lingering scent. It was very late when they emerged from the link. Ukatonen was sitting in the shadows of the darkened room.
“How are you?” he asked.
“Fine,” they replied, in unison. “We’re fine.”
“Let me see.” He reached out and linked briefly with each of them. “Yes, you’re all right. Just barely, but you’re all right. I’ve packed your things, Ninto. Get some sleep. It’s late.”
Naratonen had taken Ninto away when Anitonen awoke the next morning.
“Ninto wanted your linking last night to be her goodbye,” Ukatonen told her.
“It doesn’t feel like she’s gone. She’s right in here,” Anito responded, gesturing at her chest with her palm.
“That will fade in time.”
“Perhaps, but it’s enough for now.”
Chapter 26
I hat will be all for today, class,” Juna told her students in Standard.
“Thank you, teacher,” they responded before scattering back to their other work, or off to relax somewhere. Teaching Standard to the Tendu was hard, and would continue to be hard. She could give them facts, but none of them had any experience or context to put them into. Past a certain level of complexity, it was all nonsense to them. Still, she taught them as much as she could, hoping some of it would make sense as they learned more about humans. It was hard, frustrating work, and she was glad that they were leaving for Lyanan in a couple of days. Over the past four years, the villagers of Lyanan had become friends. It would be good to see them again.
Lyanan was also where she felt most connected with Earth. Juna closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the smell of clean sheets. She felt an almost sexual longing for simple human comforts, a bath, a hot meal, a bed with clean, dry linen. The thought of a conversation with another human being, or the touch of a warm human hand, made tears prick at the insides of her eyelids. Going to Lyanan reminded her of all the human things she tried so hard to forget the rest of the time. Forgetting was how she survived without going crazy.
Juna felt a touch on her arm. It was Moki. What was going to happen to him when her people came back? The question loomed larger as the time drew near. In the t
wo months since the enkar examinations, she had encouraged Moki and Ukatonen to spend a lot of time together. Perhaps if the bond between the two of them was strong enough, her leaving would not tear Moki apart.
Juna reached up and took Moki’s hand. He knew she was thinking of her people again. She could read it on his skin. She looked away, fighting back a surge of guilt. She couldn’t help longing for her own species. It was as natural as Moki’s own intense need for his sitik.
She held her arms out, spurs up. They slid into a link. She tasted Moki’s fear, sharp and urgent, and he tasted her longing for her own people. Nothing he could do would ease that longing more than a little. She answered his fear with all the love she felt for him, but none of that could ease his worries about the future. The link settled into an uneasy equilibrium that was not the harmony they both longed for.
It was raining when they arrived at the village tree of Lyanan. Juna’s shoulders were chafed and sore, despite the padding of wet moss that lay between her skin and the pack straps. She looked forward to shedding her burden in a warm, dry room. Lalito emerged from the trunk as they descended toward the na tree’s massive, bowl-shaped crotch.
“You came very quickly. I sent the message about the new creatures only yesterday. They arrived two days ago. They’re staying on a great floating island off the coast.”
“They’re early. I didn’t expect them for another year, at least,” Juna said. A welter of conflicting emotions warred within her. She wanted to shuck her pack and race through the trees to see her people—and yet she also wanted to take Moki and hide in the mountains until the humans left. Juna thought of her alien skin, bald head, altered body, and she felt suddenly afraid. What would the humans think of her, looking like this? More importantly, what was she going to do to help her people and the Tendu achieve harmony? She had been so busy worrying about Moki and writing reports and field notes that she hadn’t thought about what she would do when the humans arrived. She wasn’t ready for this. If only she had more time!
Moki touched her arm. She reached down to embrace him, sudden tears welling in her eyes. She had longed for this day. Now, she wanted to turn back the clock. She wasn’t ready, and neither was Moki.
“We need to rest and talk before we go to meet the new creatures,” Ukatonen said.
They were shown to an empty guest room. Juna eased off her pack with a sigh of relief and sat down. Moki busied himself with unpacking their things, and directing the tinka who came bearing armloads of bedding and refreshments. He was trying to bury his grief in busywork. This was going to be very hard. She got up and touched her bami on the arm. They linked automatically, sliding inside each other. She was awash in Moki’s fear and grief, and her own sadness and guilt. They drifted inside each other’s pain for a long while, then slid out of the link.
“Oh, Moki. I—”
“There was nothing that you could do to change any of this,” he toil her. “It was all set in motion when you decided to save my life.”
“Should I have left you to die?”
Moki looked away. “No. Yes. I—I don’t know.”
Ukatonen touched them both on the shoulder. “It is pointless t; worry whether your decision was correct. You both must live with the consequences of your choices. We don’t have time for regrets and recriminations. Your people are there, Eerin. What should we do?”
“Go and meet them. Talk to them about the Tendu.”
“We need to discuss the damage they did the last time they were here,” Anitonen reminded her.
Juna inclined her head in a nod, and flickered agreement. “We should bring Lalito with us.”
“Yes. It’s late. We’re tired. It would be best to wait until tomorrow.’ Ukatonen suggested.
Juna looked away. “Yes. It would.” She felt oddly relieved to be putting off her meeting with the Survey.
Ukatonen touched her on the knee. “I’m sorry to make you wait. I know how much you want to see your people.”
Juna smiled. “It’s all right, en. I want to spend one more night with my friends before I go back to my people.”
It was a quiet night, full of reminiscences and bittersweet laughter. The four of them linked, sharing the nostalgia they felt. Ukatonen and Anitonen slipped out of the link first, leaving Juna alone with Moki, his sadness tempered now by the gentle peace of the evening. At last they moved together into an emotional equilibrium, lingering in the link, savoring the harmony they shared.
The Survey base rode at anchor, large and incongruous in the small bay. It was a large, flat rectangle, the color of a bereaved bami, and covered by a huge clear dome. Juna winced inwardly at the inauspicious color of the ship. She hoped it wasn’t an omen.
Anitonen touched her arm. “Look, there are new creatures moving around on it.”
Juna nodded. Several people were working on the deck. One, in an unsealed e-suit, stood on the observation deck with what appeared to be a pair of binoculars. She really should radio first, but the beacon was clear around the point from where they were, and she wanted to get this over with.
“I’m going down to the beach and let them know that I’m here.” Juna touched Moki on the arm. Their eyes met for a moment. “I’ll come back,” she promised.
Juna climbed to the ground and walked down the path to the edge of the cliff. She stood where she was plainly visible from the base, turned a bright yellow and orange, and swung her arms over her head. It would look odd to the Tendu watching from the trees, but it attracted the human’s attention. The lookout glanced up at the movement, startled, and put his binoculars to. his face. The lenses caught the bright morning sun and flashed back at her. She waved her arms once more, and then walked down the zigzag trail to the beach. An excited crowd gathered on the observation deck, pointing at her.
Juna reached the beach, and waited while they launched a boat, bearing two people in environment suits. They landed the boat about 150 meters down the beach. One of them stepped out of the beached boat, carrying a computer collapsed into the shape of a smooth white sphere. The Alien Contact people theorized it was the least threatening shape for contact purposes since it had no sharp edges.
Juna smiled. Ukatonen had used a stone about that size and shape to bash in the head of a tiakan last week. The AC people meant well, but they were all theory and no practice.
Juna glanced up at the trees, making sure that the Tendu had a clear view, and flushed blue to reassure them. The human trudged up the beach in his baggy white e-suit. Juna smiled, remembering the thousands of hours she had logged in those hellish suits.
He stopped about ten meters away from her and slowly set the computer down in the sand, then stood, arms held out from his body, palms forward, fingers spread.
Juna recognized the pose, and fought back a sudden laugh. This was the standard Alien Contact protocol that she had learned in the Survey. He didn’t recognize her. She looked down at herself, seeing her elongated hands and feet, her hairless alien skin that covered her nipples and her navel, and flickered with silent blue and green laughter.
I probably wouldn’t recognize myself if I saw me in the mirror right now, she thought.
The human was standing there, in that goofy low-threat pose, looking like a large, dumpy penguin. It was too much to resist. She stepped forward hesitantly, peering at the man in front of her as though she had never seen someone in an e-suit before. She paused about three meters away, and squatted on the sand. She could see his face framed by the recording instrumentation of the suit. He looked vaguely familiar to her. but she couldn’t place him.
He smoothed the sand in front of him and set down a bright, shiny gold sphere. Juna rippled in amusement. What would the Tendu have made of something shaped like a lizard egg, the color of someone in heat?
She moved forward to pick up the sphere and made a great show of examining it, smelling it, shaking it to see if it rattled, rubbing it on her skin, and tasting it. Then she put it back down on the sand in front of her.
> “I believe the correct line is ‘Dr. Livingstone, I presume?’ ” she croaked, her voice husky and hoarse from disuse. “I’m Juna Saari. The real Tendu are up there in the trees, watching us.”
“Oh shit!” he exclaimed, staggering back. Even through his helmet, the look of surprise on his face was very satisfying.
“Well, that’s one that won’t go down in the history books,” Juna said.
“I’m very sorry,” he said, recovering himself. “I’m Dr. Daniel Bremen, expedition head with the Unity Dow Mara. I’m honored to meet you. ”
“No wonder you looked familiar. I’ve seen your Tri-V shows.”
“I’m glad you liked them. It’s always a pleasure to meet a fan in an out-of-the-way place.”
Actually, Juna disliked Bremen’s shows. They oversimplified many important concepts, and ignored others entirely, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. She needed to work with him to build bridges with the Tendu. She wondered how a Tri-V celeb had wound up heading the expedition.
“Before I did the Universalities series for Edu-Net, I was the head of Alien Contact Studies Department at UCLA,” he explained, as if anticipating her question. “The Survey felt that my celebrity status would help make this trip more accessible to a wider audience.”
It made sense. The Survey was chronically short on funding. They wanted someone along who could make the most of this historic event.
“I wasn’t expecting the Survey to get here so soon,” Juna said.
“The Tendu are an important discovery. They inhabit a biological treasure house. Some of the new proteins and complex organic molecules are opening up whole new possibilities in medical and chemical research. So far, we’ve derived two new antibiotics effective against resistant diseases and a nonaddictive painkiller more effective than morphine, from materials collected during the first mission. And then there’s you.”
“Me?” Juna asked, suddenly wary.
