by Lyn Gala
“Liam?” Ondry curled his tail around his own leg and knelt in the nest, unsure of how to calm Liam. Now that he was awake, he sat clutching the edge of the nest. “What is wrong?” Ondry asked. Usually he felt as if he lived in Liam’s mind as much as his own. Da nuts simultaneously inspired thoughts of how they would make excellent bread and how they were too bitter to be palatable for a human. But now he felt excluded from Liam’s thoughts.
“We can’t do that,” Liam said.
“We can’t do what?” Ondry reached for Takil, but Liam threw himself forward, scooping the eggling up and wrapping his arms around him. Takil relaxed in his father’s arms, his long fingers locking around the fabric of Liam’s sleeping clothes.
“We can’t have sex.”
Ondry was startled enough that he had no answer. He waited to see if Liam would clarify his statement. When he didn’t, Ondry asked the logical question. “Why?”
For a time, Liam stared at him. “There is a child here.”
Ondry widened his eyes. Most Rownt did raise at least one child, and that did not prevent reproductive sex, so Ondry saw no reason for it to stop non-procreative sex. No doubt other palteia and chilta enjoyed the ilsil within their nests.
Liam sighed. “You don’t get it, do you?”
“No.” Ondry did not state the obvious—Liam was being irrational.
Liam held out a hand to Ondry, but he was slow to take it. His touch had hurt Liam in some way he did not understand, and now Ondry was fearful of causing more harm. Liam scooted closer to Ondry, and Ondry tossed a pillow aside to make room for him. “I can’t have sex with Takil in the nest. Children should not be around sex.”
That made no sense. Sex happened on the street and children often observed. Ondry studied Liam, trying to understand what insanity had gripped Liam. Perhaps Liam could read the confusion on Ondry’s face because he sighed.
“I know that Takil doesn’t understand what’s happening, but I can’t have sex in front of a child.”
Ondry relaxed his eyes. “You speak of human children,” Ondry said.
Liam often compared the dangers in Takil’s life to those a human child might face. Even if Liam were to roll onto Takil in his sleep, Takil was sturdy enough to handle the weight. However, given how Liam had described human egglings, Ondry had the feeling they were far more fragile. Perhaps that is why they were predisposed to crying.
“Yes, I speak of human children.” Liam held Takil close and leaned into Ondry. Ondry took that as an invitation to pull his family closer. “Human children should not be exposed to sex.”
“Why?”
Liam blew out a long breath. “That’s a big question.” Liam huffed. He claimed the sound was one of humor, but Ondry had learned it was more likely to signal that Liam was minimizing his own pain. Ondry tightened his arm around Liam’s waist.
“Explain it,” Ondry said softly. He reached around to play with Takil’s toes. Takil grabbed at Ondry’s hands, pursuing them when Ondry moved.
“I can’t. I can’t have sex,” Liam said.
“Okay,” Ondry agreed. He enjoyed non-procreative sex because he relished the way Liam relinquished control of his body. He never wanted to have another morning like this one because Ondry had, in some inexplicable way, harmed Liam. If they needed to avoid sex, then they would.
“But... but you enjoy sex.” Liam frowned at Ondry.
“I enjoy bringing you pleasure,” Ondry corrected him.
“And now I’ve ruined that.” Liam sounded miserable.
“You have ruined nothing. I will always love you,” Ondry reassured him. He wondered if this had something to do with Liam’s difficult sexual past with humans. Those who had hurt Liam had been dead for hundreds of years, and yet the wounds they had left occasionally opened. If Ondry thought it would help, he would go to Earth, find the remains of those who had hurt Liam and tear them apart molecule by molecule.
Liam leaned his head back, resting it against Ondry’s shoulder. “I know I’m being stupid. Takil isn’t human.”
“You are human.”
Liam gave another huffing laugh, which did nothing to reassure Ondry. He waited in silence, playing keep away with Takil, who showed great determination to catch Ondry’s fingers. He had the instinct of a hunter, and he would—one day—steal more than his share of meat from the plate.
“Humans enjoy sex, but they don’t always care about whether their partner enjoys sex.” He stopped.
Ondry paled as he put two pieces of information together—children should not be allowed to see sex and humans had sex with partners who did not enjoy it. Pedophilia. Ondry had read of the illness, and the Grandmothers had warned human authorities that any adult who showed such sickness would not survive an encounter with the Rownt, but Ondry had never thought of the subject as affecting Liam.
“You’re cutting off my oxygen,” Liam said. Ondry loosened his arm.
“No one touched me when I was a child. I just wonder...” Liam squirmed around. “If I hadn’t been so young when Mort targeted me, if I had been older when I started hanging around him and those people who were so... sexual.” Liam’s voice trailed off. Ondry regretted he’d never had a chance to kill that man.
“It’s stupid. It’s not like that with Takil.” Liam let their eggling go, and turned.
“It is not stupid,” Ondry said firmly. “You are human and you cannot forget what is true for you.”
“But we can’t go without sex forever.”
“Not forever,” Ondry said. “In ten or twelve years, Takil will be old enough to want some time away from us.”
“Ten or twelve years?” Liam sounded shocked. “But...”
Ondry waited for him to process his thoughts, but the silence continued too long. No doubt his palteia was trying to find a way to sacrifice his own needs. Again.
“We will have six hundred years of married life. Ten years is equivalent to three or four months of a human relationship.” Ondry still felt ill at the idea that most humans had less than a century of life and their relationships averaged two decades. Ondry suspected six hundred years would not be enough time for him to love Liam as much as he wished to. If he had to give up pleasuring Liam’s body for a short time, he would.
“Humans often stop having sex for that long after they have a child,” Liam said. “I think it’s because they never get to sleep through the night. Sleep deprivation is not sexy.”
“We can follow human custom in this, but we are never accepting a human child,” Ondry said. He adored Takil, but he could not imagine a child that cried. The thought distracted Ondry long enough that Takil caught his finger and bit it.
“One of these days his teeth will grow in, and you will regret this game,” Liam warned.
“Yes,” Ondry said, “I will.” He wiggled the fingers of his other hand, and Takil gave up his prize in an effort to catch this new prey. One day Ondry might regret this, but for now, he was content. His family was happy, and that was enough compensation for Ondry. He found as he grew older, his definition of a good trade had changed.
Rivalries
Takil had escaped his parents’ gaze as soon as possible. They still treated him like a child when he had turned fifty a few growing seasons back. He would not sit in the nest and watch his parents seek trade on their computers. This was a ship—an actual space ship like in the storyscrolls about Prabrateakil. Takil wished he could have lived back then. He could have gone to war against the Cy who had stolen egglings, and he would have cheated the Imshee in trades.
He could still cheat the Imshee if his parents would ever allow him to trade. He watched them. He knew how to seek a trader’s greatest need and exploit it for profit. But they would have him sit in the nest and read storyscrolls until his tail fell off.
This part of the ship lacked the decorated doors that warned a Rownt that he was outside private quarters. Takil wondered if some Rownt changed those decorations. His parents had chosen empty quarters in the tuk secti
on of the ship and that had come with a door decorated with a starscape crowded with tiny suns and fields of space distortion. Neither had shown any interest in having an artist change the door to reflect they were from Prarownt.
Takil would have if they were his quarters. Through the rare viewport and the camera feed, space was a sort of greyish, bluish-black. Prarownt was more beautiful. Maybe he simply preferred planets. He was looking forward to seeing Earth. He had read many stories and he hoped to explore caves. They sounded wonderful.
He pulled on a handle that was set too high to be a proper door; however, the latch remained unmovable. Locked. Takil was ready to move on when someone spoke.
“You should not touch that.”
Takil turned to find a female watching him from a set of stairs that led to the next deck up. She was taller than him, but females grew faster. She had to be close to his age, maybe ten or twenty years older.
“Why not?”
She trilled at him. “Everyone knows the high latches are for emergency supplies.” Two more Rownt—a younger male and a female near enough the first’s age to have come from the same laying of eggs—followed her down the stairs.
Takil would not be trilled at by anyone. “I have never been on a ship, so my ignorance is expected. But I will learn faster than you could learn to navigate the planet.” He stood straighter.
The female trilled again. “Planets are easy. Learning a ship is harder. I am Rewa, the offspring of Zach and a Grandmother. I know this ship, so I could learn a planet in less time than it takes you to find an emergency shelter.” She even added a flip of her tail as if she was old enough for arrogance to be attractive.
“That shows your ignorance. The planet has kawt and storms and rockslides,” Takil said. The other Rownt widened their eyes at that. Takil could make good use of their curiosity. His parents travelled so much and were so respected that he had seen more of Prarownt than most Rownt half a millennia old.
Rewa was not yet ready to cede the battlefield. “A ship has engines that can explode. One cannot escape an exploding engine. One can run from a kawt,” she said.
“You speak and show your ignorance. One cannot run from a kawt. One must face it. You would be eaten within a growing season.”
Her tail flipped harder. “I would not. If you can survive the planet, then any eggling could. Or perhaps you survived because you are an eggling clinging to a parent’s leg.” Their audience trilled their appreciation for the insult, and Takil had to take a breath to release the instinct to tackle Rewa to the decking. He would only prove his immaturity if he tried, and she was bigger.
He stood taller. “How wise you must be to speak of something you have never seen.” This time the audience’s trilling was aimed at her. Rewa paled with anger and crouched. Takil stretched out more, silently daring her to turn this competition physical. He would not lose status if an older Rownt had less control. A few bruises would be worth the price.
Her tail lashed, but she straightened and looked down at him despite the fact that she was only a hand taller. The gesture required her to bend her neck in ways that appeared uncomfortable. “One does not need to see a storm to know that thunder outside one’s window means rain will follow.”
“Silence would better preserve your illusion of intelligence,” Takil shot back. “An avalanche or a rockslide are indistinguishable from thunder, but no rain will follow.” Takil did not know if he spoke the truth, but none of these ship-Rownt would know the difference. “And even if one is close enough to a cloud to hear the thunder, one is not necessarily in the path of that cloud any more than a herd of desga is obligated to trample you simply because you heard their hooves.” He was far more confident of that fact.
“I have read of desga,” the smaller male said. No doubt he hoped for stories. Takil wondered if he should tell the stories and trust the others to reciprocate or if he should demand they share some of the ship’s secrets first. He did not want to appear unsocial, but he did not know these Rownt well enough to trust them.
“My parents are ranked Grandmother,” Rewa blurted.
“My parents were the youngest Rownt to ever claim status of tuk, so when they are as old as your parents, they will be even wiser.” The moment Takil made the statement, he felt the burn of embarrassment. Insults were proper, but he was claiming his parents' status as a skill he could boast of. If either of his parents heard him, they would rightly accuse him of having egg stuck on his tail. His only comfort was that Rewa was even older, and she had made the same error. In fact, she had led the way.
Now an awkward silence fell over all four of them. They studied one another, and Takil searched for a way to escape the discomfort. He could not construct the right words, and fleeing would add another immature act to the one he had already committed.
Rewa tightened her tail around her leg and looked away. “I am hungry. I will show you where the food court is if you tell me of desga,” she offered in way of a trade. He wondered if asking after the topic of most interest to the youngest male was her way of apologizing to her companions for her error. He had seen his parents do the same.
But he wasn’t sure how he could show his own willingness to compensate others for making them uncomfortable. It took him a moment to compose the best response. “After we eat, I could show you a storyscroll about hunters from Prabrateakil who tracked a whole herd when the people were starving. It has illustrations and everything.”
“Where is Prabrateakil?” the young male asked.
“It is the town where Imshee first landed, and the Grandmothers were abandoned.” Takil whispered the last part. It was a morbid topic and his parents would most likely advise against speaking of it. However, all the other Rownt leaned closer, even Rewa.
“I know who has the best da-nut breads,” she said, sounding excited.
The skin around Takil’s eyes tightened. He loved da-nut bread. “I have preserved cinnamon.” The bitter spice was suspended in purified oil so it kept its potency and could be spread on foods.
“Then our profits are better together than separately,” Rewa said. “Where are your quarters? I can show you all the shortcuts in the tuk personal quarters.” She tightened her eyes at him. Takil felt pride that his first trade in this new home had turned out so well.
“We live in the rooms with the spacescape on the door.”
The second female spoke for the first time. “I know exactly which one that is.” She took off up the stairs, and Takil and Rewa and the male whose name Takil had not yet learned all ran up the stairs after her.
Halloween on Earth
“What is the point of these identity-hiders?” Takil watched the trick-or-treaters out of the corner of his eyes.
“Do not judge,” Ondry said. The base of his tail thickened, as if he was trying his best to avoid twitching his tail at his son. Liam bit the inside of his cheek to avoid smiling. Takil was getting old enough now that he didn’t appreciate any sign that his parents were amused at his expense. The fifth was such a sensitive decade.
“They are taking part in a cultural custom,” Liam said blandly. He’d loved trick or treating as a kid, but he had to admit that he didn’t quite understand it now. Then again, he didn’t understand huge chunks of human culture, so he wasn’t surprised.
“What is the function?”
“To get candy.”
Takil watched from the patio of their cafe as a group of children ran up to a shop and held out their bags. Childlike voices cried out “Trick or treat,” and a waiter dropped candy into each bag while talking to the children about their costumes.
“He gives them treats.” Takil’s emphasis on “give” and his disgust made it perfectly clear that he disapproved, but then he was coming to the age when he would rather steal for himself. He was a mini-Ondry, not that Takil would’ve appreciated that comparison.
Ondry might strain his tail trying to avoid twitching it in aggravation, but then Takil was not well-behaved tonight. This was the firs
t time they’d gone out into the town using the holiday and the shadowed patio to watch without the military escort that followed them when they were on a human-owned world.
“That is their culture,” Liam said mildly, but Takil must have heard the censure in Liam’s voice because he paled and hunched his shoulders. Guilt made Liam want to take the words back, but Takil needed to be more respectful. If he wanted to make a name as a trader with multiple species, he needed to respect them. And Takil was not the most respectful Rownt to ever fall out of an egg. It made Liam wonder if Ondry had been the same. Probably. After all, he admitted that he had trespassed on others’ territories to introduce himself—a sin only a child would be forgiven for. But they were ship traders. They couldn’t afford to have Takil insult their trading partners. Humans wouldn’t dismiss a fifty-six year old’s disrespect as a child’s antics.
Sometimes Liam wondered if they had gone back to trading too soon.
“What is the source of the tradition?” Ondry asked.
Softy. Every time Takil pushed too far, Ondry would distract from their son’s lack of tact. Liam raised an eyebrow to let his chilta know that the redirection had not gone unnoticed. “I’m not sure,” Liam confessed. “There are a few traditions that suggest that this time of year the line between the living and the dead thins so that the dead can find their way back.”
“Human dead or can we meet Rownt dead, too?” Takil asked with perfect seriousness.
“The story is no different than when the Grandmothers call out to the gods,” Ondry said. “One can reject belief while still holding to the trappings of the old faith.”
“The way Liam holds to the trappings of humanity when we trade with humans?” Takil asked.
Liam was in the middle of drinking and managed to swallow a mouthful of air, which got caught in his throat.
“Do not speak of Liam with disrespect,” Ondry said, and this time his tail slipped free of his leg and slapped the table leg.
