Through Alien Eyes

by Amy Thomson

  Through Alien Eyes

  by Amy Thomson

  For Rosalie the Wonder Cat

  Literary mews, par excellence 1979–1998

  Acknowledgments

  Although writing is a solitary endeavor, every writer has a support network that makes writing possible. My support network includes:

  My husband, Edd Vick, who listened patiently to loony ideas, middle-of-the-night ramblings, and general maun-derings-on concerning the book. He also slid sandwiches under the door when I forgot to eat, proofread manuscripts on short notice, and did far more than his fair share of the housework during the final slog through the manuscript.

  My second readers:

  Hugh Daniel, John Hecht, Ctein, Kim and Hank Graham, Rich Dutcher, Terry Garey, Laurie Edison, and Loren MacGregor. Their insight and feedback greatly improved the book.

  And friends like:

  Greg Bear, for thoughts on structure that helped me get where I needed to go.

  T’om Seaman, who helped me understand some of the lessons Ukatonen needed to learn.

  Anetta and Pekka Pirinen for help with the Finnish. Any mistakes are my fault, not theirs.

  Steve Gallacci for help with terminology.

  Howard Waldrop, for help with the solitaires and their kin. If you haven’t read his excellent story, “The Ugly Chickens,” you’re missing a treat.

  The members of the Feminist Cabal, for support, guidance, and their great sense of humor!

  Don Maass, literary agent extraordinaire.

  And to Ginjer Buchanan for editorial patience above and beyond the call of duty.

  I also got help from the following people, who took the time to answer weird questions posed by a total stranger:

  Skip Briggs of Weapons Safety, Inc., who answered some very unsettling questions about guns without batting an eyelash!

  And to the personable and friendly staff of Turnbull Wine Cellars, Dutch Henry Winery, and Robert Mondavi Winery, who provided me with vital information about viticulture and oenology, and allowed me to sample some excellent wines! (Research can be hell!)

  One

  Ukatonen looked out the window at his home world of Tiangi. It had grown steadily smaller as the humans’ sky raft sped through the starry, endless night. All the trees he had climbed, all the creatures he had ever hunted, all the rivers he had swum in, were now contained in a cloud-swathed blue crescent he could cover with his outstretched hand. It made him feel very small and alone.

  Mold’s arm slid around his waist. Ukatonen looked down at the youngster, his skin brightening to pale blue with gladness. He was only a bami, and a young one at that, but Moki was Ukatonen’s last link with his home world. Moki had been adopted by the human Eerin after she saved his life. Ukatonen had made a formal judgment that Eerin could adopt the tinka, brushing aside the objections of the elders of the village she was living in. The adoption had worked out well; they had become exceptionally close.

  When Eerin’s people came to take her back to her home world, Moki made it clear that he would either go with her or die. So Ukatonen had rendered a judgment that he and Moki would return to Earth with Eerin. Since his life was forfeit if his judgment was wrong, the humans were forced to take the two of them, or have the death of an enkar on their consciences.

  Now, looking at his world dwindling behind them, Uka-tonen wondered if he had done the right thing. The ship, and these humans, were stranger than he had imagined. Everything was bright, and smooth, and bare. The air was dry and the ship was cold and very small. There was a constant vibration underfoot and in his ears that masked the small sounds he was used to. The people were either too friendly or seemed frightened of him. He longed for the shady, concealing jungle of home, with its familiar smell of wet and rotting vegetation, and the distant sweet scent of flowers. The ship reeked of humans, and under that the dry smell of metal, the waxy scent of plastic, and the sharp pungency of the substances used to clean the ship. He was finding it very hard not to show how uneasy the sterile environment of the ship made him feel.

  Perhaps it would have been better for him to seek an honorable death. But his people needed to know more about these humans, and it was his duty as an enkar to learn everything he could.

  Ukatonen looked up and saw Eerin watching him. Was that a look of concern on her face? Even after four years of observing her, he had trouble deciphering her alien features. It was even harder now that Eerin was among her own people. She seemed like a stranger, her body concealed by clothes, her skin the color of embarrassment, speaking the humans’ noisy sound speech. Even her name was different. The humans called her Juna, or Dr. Saari.

  Eerin came over to them and put her arm’ around Moki’s shoulders. The bami looked up at her, his skin flaring blue with happiness at her touch.

  “Are you all right?” Eerin asked.

  Ukatonen’s ears twitched at the sound of her words. Human sound speech sounded like frogs in heat. It amazed him that intelligent creatures actually communicated like that. If only Eerin could still speak properly.

  “Tiangi looks so small from here.” He spoke in the humans’ skin speech, which they called “writing.” The human words appearing on his chest were dark grey with sadness.

  Eerin nodded. “Do you miss it much?”

  “Everything’s so strange here. So bright and dry and empty.” He shook his head. “I’ll get used to it,” he reassured her. He would have to. The journey from Tiangi to the humans’ planet, Earth, would take more than four months.

  A trickle of grey anguish slid down his back. Four months in this barren, lifeless place! There were a few small trees and shrubs, planted in what the humans called a garden, but none of them were big enough to climb in, and only a few provided adequate cover. Well, Eerin had told him that it was going to be difficult. He would find a way to adapt. He had to. He was an enkar, and this was his duty. It was the only honorable thing to do.

  Moki watched Ukatonen leave the gathering. He was worried about the enkar. Despite his brave talk, the enkar was finding it difficult to adapt. It was hard for Moki too; the ship was uncomfortably dry, cold, and cramped. But as long as his sitik was with him, even a place as strange as this could be home.

  Because of their special status, enkar were expected to avoid close ties with others. Here on the humans’ sky raft, only Eerin understood that. The other humans approached Ukatonen with an eager friendliness that stripped the enkar of the dignity and honor of his lonely status.

  Moki looked up at Tiangi, dwindling on the screen. Soon, Eerin told him, the world he was born on would be just another spot of light like all the other stars in the sky. He found the idea frightening, but also strangely exciting. No other Tendu had ever gone this far. He and Ukatonen would be the first to see another world.

  But right now Ukatonen needed the comforting presence of another Tendu, though his dignity would never allow him to admit it. Eerin, busy talking to one of the other humans, didn’t even look up as Moki slipped away to find the enkar.

  * * *

  Juna stood watching the sparse crowd of people at the reception. The Homa Darabi Maru was running with a skeleton crew. Everyone else had been left behind on Tiangi. “Dr. Saari?” It was Commander Sussman, captain of the ship.

  “Yes, Commander?”

  “I was hoping to have a chance to get to know the Tendu. I’ve been so busy getting the ship underway that I haven’t had the chance to talk to them.”

  Juna glanced around the room, looking for the small, long-limbed Tendu. They had slipped away again. Ukato-nen had probably gone off somewhere to brood, and Moki, concerned about the enkar, had followed him.

  “I’m afraid that they’ve slipped out of the room, Commander. They’re not used to shipboard li
fe just yet, and I think the reception was a little overwhelming.” Her lips tightened in momentary exasperation. It was considered very poor form to snub the captain of the ship, especially at a formal reception like this.

  Guilt replaced her irritation. Ukatonen was here because of her. If she had not adopted Moki, Ukatonen would not be here. But then, neither would Moki, and she couldn’t imagine life without her irrepressible bami.

  She shook her head. She could not change the past. The present was all that mattered now. She apologized to the commander, and went to find her two wayward aliens.

  Moki found the enkar in the garden. He held his arms out, spurs upward, asking to link with Ukatonen. Here on this sterile, barren ship, their world dwindling behind them, Moki needed the comfort of allu-a as much as the enkar did, and it would not violate his dignity to admit it.

  “Let’s go to our cabin,” Ukatonen said. “It’s too open out here. The humans will see us.”

  Moki nodded. Allu-a made the humans uneasy, so they had to link in private. A yellow flicker of irritation forked down Moki’s back. Everything about them seemed to make the humans uneasy. He hated the restrictions their discomfort burdened him with.

  They left the garden and threaded the long, bright maze of passageways with their brilliant white walls and sharp corners, their feet silent on the soft beige carpet. The empty hallways made Moki nervous. He kept expecting something to jump out at him from behind one of the myriad identical doors that lined the hallways. His nervousness was the result of long years as a tinka with no sitik to protect him from predators. The reflexes of that vulnerable time came back to him here in the bare corridors of the humans’ sky raft.

  They passed several humans, who looked away uncomfortably. Something about them embarrassed the humans. Yet only a few of the humans on Tiangi had responded like that. What were they doing wrong?

  At last they reached their cabin. The door slid open with a sound like the hiss of an angry ganuna. Still, Moki felt profoundly relieved when the door hissed shut behind them. This cold, dry, alien room was the only spot on the ship where they could truly be themselves. The two of them sat on one of the strange, flat beds provided by the humans. Moki stretched out his arms, spurs upward. Uka-tonen grasped Moki’s forearms. Their spurs pierced each other’s skin and they plunged into the inner metabolic world of tastes, smells, and emotions that was allu-a.

  As always, Moki marveled at the power of Ukatonen’s presence. Linking with Ukatonen was like being swept along by a rain-swollen river. Despite his power, Ukatonen controlled the link with the delicate precision of a mi-tamit building her mating web. Moki drifted, letting the comfort of the enkar’s presence carry him along. Ukatonen’s presence enfolded Moki, and Moki let his sour loneliness and bitter frustration wash into the link, where the power of the enkar’s presence swept it away.

  Moki reached out to Ukatonen, trying to release the fear and loneliness that the enkar kept hidden. Ukatonen pushed him away. Moki relaxed immediately, emitting shame and embarrassment at his presumption. The swiftness and contrition of Moki’s apology amused Ukatonen. Even if he hadn’t gotten Ukatonen to relax his rigid emotional control, Moki had at least alleviated the enkar’s dark and lonely mood.

  They lingered well past the point of emotional equilibrium. Neither wanted to leave the familiar haven of allu-a for the alien world outside. At last Moki began to tire, and Ukatonen broke the link with a bittersweet tinge of regret.

  The door hissed open and Juna climbed down the spiral staircase to the garden. The garden was silent and empty, the bright sun lights shining down on the motionless plants. Everyone not on duty was at the reception. She felt vaguely guilty, slipping away like this.

  Well, if they weren’t in the garden, they were probably in their cabin. She headed down the carpeted hallways until she reached their cabin. Opening the door, she peeked inside. Ukatonen and Moki were seated on the bed, lost in allu-a.

  Juna sat on the cabin’s second bed and watched the two aliens. She had been so busy dealing with the details of getting them settled and preparing for orbit that she had been able to link with the Tendu only once. And the Survey had prohibited allu-a. It was a regulation that came from Earth, based on the report she had made four and a half years ago, when she was first marooned on Tiangi. She had barely known the Tendu then, and linking was still a strange and frightening invasion.

  The regulation was stupid, but no one on this side of the jump gate had the authority to countermand it, so Juna had decided to ignore the rule. Moki had a deep physiological need to link with her. If he could not engage in allu-a with his sitik, he would become apathetic and depressed, and eventually die.

  She sighed, wishing she was linked with the Tendu. Their skins were a calm, neutral celadon, reflecting their inward preoccupation. Seated, with their long limbs folded, they looked strangely childlike. The spidery, graceful Tendu had made her feel huge and awkward when she was on Tiangi. Here on the ship, they seemed somehow diminished. Ukatonen, who was one of the tallest Tendu she had ever met, barely came up to her chin, and Moki was nearly a foot shorter than that.

  Those first few weeks had been a brutal time. The filters on her environment suit had failed and she was dying of anaphylactic shock when the aliens found her. She had awakened in a strange, leathery cocoon, halfway up a tree. Her skin was wet and slimy, and changed color in response to her emotions.

  The Tendu thought she was some strange new animal, and had treated her as such until she learned to communicate with them. Even after that it had been hard. She had to learn to eat raw meat, and sleep in a pile of rotting leaves, and struggle to understand the Tendu’s primitive, harsh lives. The loneliness, strangeness and isolation had nearly unhinged her.

  Ukatonen and Moki were suffering the same dislocation and loneliness that she had felt on Tiangi. She did everything she could to help them, but it was up to them to adapt to life among her people. Unlike her, however, they had chosen to leave their people. And they had each other for company. Most important of all, they had allu-a to help ease their loneliness.

  Allu-a was the bond that held the Tendu culture together. Linking cemented the bond between bami and sitik; it drew villages into a harmonious, coherent whole; and helped the enkar resolve disputes. After four and a half years on Tiangi, she had learned to treasure the intense level of intimacy that came with linking. The formal, distant life she had lived in the Survey seemed sterile and lonely now.

  She missed her life on Tiangi nearly as much as the two Tendu did. But she also missed being among humans again, and she fiercely missed her family. Her brother Toivo’s spine had been crushed in a spinball accident, leaving him paralyzed. She had to see Toivo, and try to help him. And so they were all here, on their way to Earth. She hoped she had done the right thing. Unlike the enkar, she had to live with her mistakes.

  With a sudden, deep inhalation, Ukatonen opened his eyes and sat up, unclasping Moki’s arms. Moki awoke a moment later. They looked better. The link must have gone well.

  “Hello, Eerin,” Moki said, reaching out and brushing her cheek with his knuckles. “It was a good link. I’m sorry that you weren’t with us.”

  “I wish I had been,” she told them. “I came to see how you were doing. I’m concerned about you, en,” she said to Ukatonen. “You seem unhappy.”

  Ukatonen nodded, a gesture he had learned from her. “It is a difficult thing to watch your world growing small enough to hold in the palm of ymir hand.”

  “Are you sure that this is what you want to do?” Juna asked. “It’s not too late to turn the ship around and go back.”

  “Eerin, when have I ever gone back on my word?” Ukatonen said. “You warned me that it would be difficult, but I will learn to live among your people as you learned to live among mine.”

  Juna nodded. She hadn’t really expected him to change his mind. Going back would mean a loss of honor so profound that he would have had to kill himself. Still she had to remind him that the o
ption existed.

  “Then what can I do to help you adapt?”

  Ukatonen shook his head. “Nothing. Everything must happen in here,” he said gesturing at himself with a long, graceful hand.

  “And Moki, what about you?” Juna asked.

  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.