by Amy Thomson
Moki wandered the corridors of the ship. It was two hours before first watch, and the ship was quiet. Worry woke him, and the desire to think through his worries kept him awake. He entered the dimly lit garden, crept into the living shelter of beans and sunflowers, and curled up there to think.
Ukatonen was getting worse. He moved as slowly as a morra during the few hours of the day he managed to stay awake. Coaxing and time in the garden did nothing to bring the enkar back to life. If only they could get off this ship, and go to Eerin’s family. Eerin had told him that there were trees there, some big enough to climb. He closed his eyes and thought wistfully of the huge rain forest giants he had lived in. You could go all the way from the seashore to the mountains without ever touching the ground. He missed hunting, missed the smell of green in his nostrils, and the shimmer of birdsong and animal calls in his ears so loud and constant that it was almost as palpable as the trees themselves, and the warm breezes heavy with moisture after a rainfall…
He sat up, shaking his head irritably. He was getting as bad as Ukatonen, and if that happened he would be no help at all.
Juna buttoned up her dress uniform jacket. It had been a hell of a week. Morale was declining and tempers were getting short. A fistfight broke out in the galley. There were several incidents of drunkenness severe enough to warrant confining the offenders to quarters. One belligerent drunk had to be locked up in the brig. The Tendu weren’t the only ones suffering from their confinement.
Juna looked herself over in the mirror. She was being especially careful of her appearance these days. Looking slovenly would only add to the morale problems aboard ship. She tucked a stray tuft of hair behind one ear, picked up her files, and set off for the weekly staff meeting.
Commander Sussman looked tired. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot. “I’m sorry to report that there has been no change in our quarantine status,” she said. “My sources tell me there’s a huge debate raging among the Survey hierarchy about what to do with the Tendu. I have a feeling they’re going to keep us in quarantine until they reach a consensus.”
“That could be a life sentence!” Dr. Caisson protested.
“I know,” the commander said. “I’ve filed protests with the Survey and with the union, but I doubt it’ll do any good.”
“We’re going to start running out of supplies soon,” Lieutenant Murphy warned.
Commander Sussman nodded. “I’ll speak to Chief Officer Martinez about resupplying the ship from Broumas Station.”
“We’re also running low on fresh vegetables,” Murphy added. “We’re planting fresh stuff as fast as we can, but it’ll be at least six weeks before the new crops will be ready to eat. We hadn’t planned on needing produce after we arrived.”
The commander rubbed her forehead. “I’ll see if there’s anything Chief Officer Martinez can do about that as well.”
“I’ve already had to patch up three or four people who’ve been fighting. I don’t know how much longer the crew is going to be able to take this,” Dr. Caisson said.
“We all want to get off this ship,” Commander Sussman said sharply, then looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, Louise, I just got word that my mother’s had another stroke. They’re not sure how much longer she has left.
“The union says that they’re fighting the quarantine, but they can’t override Survey security. Now, is there any more urgent business?” the commander asked, returning to her usual brisk tone of command.
There were no replies.
“I suggest that you keep the crew as busy as possible; it’ll help keep them out of trouble. I know how hard this is on all of you, and I appreciate everything you’re doing to keep up the crew’s morale. I want to assure you once more that I’m doing everything in my power to lift the quarantine. Thank you.”
With that, the meeting broke up. Juna waited until the staff officers had all expressed their sympathy to the commander for her mother’s illness.
“Commander Sussman,” she said. “I’m sorry to hear about your mother. Is there anything I can do to help?”
The commander shook her head. “You could figure out a way to get us off this ship,” she replied with a wry smile.
“I’ll work on it, Commander,” Juna said.
Ukatonen sat in the garden. Finding the strength to get out of bed had taken all his will power. But being here was no better than being in the cabin. The cold and lifeless ship still surrounded him. There was no escaping it, not even in the shelter of his own mind. Even with his eyes closed in the midst of the garden, the dryness, the plastic and metal and sweaty human smell of it filled his nostrils. The deep bone-throbbing hum of the life-support system and the rush of the air in the ventilators clamored in his ears and under his feet.
It was all too much for him to carry any longer. It was time to let go. Slowly, painfully, he got up. He needed to find Moki and tell him of his decision.
“He’s done what?” Juna exclaimed, when Moki told her what the enkar had done.
“He’s gone to sleep until they let us out of here,” Moki repeated. “I’ll be feeding him through my spurs.”
“Where is he?” Juna demanded. How could he leave her alone to cope with all of this?
“In the garden, siti. In the middle of the sunflowers.”
“Take me there,” Juna said.
Ukatonen was lying curled in the center of the sunflower circle, covered by a thin layer of dead leaves. Crouching beside him, Juna brushed the leaves away from his face. His color was good but his breathing and pulse were very slow.
“En? En? Wake up, en!” Eerin said, gently shaking his shoulder. “Are you all right?”
Ukatonen’s eyes slid open. “There is nothing more that I can do to help, so I am going to go to sleep now,” he said in skin speech. “Moki knows how to take care of me. He’ll feed me and make sure that I don’t dry out. Do not worry. I will be perfectly safe. Wake me when we get out of quarantine.”
With that, his eyes closed and his breathing slowed as he slipped back into unconsciousness. Juna sat back on her heels, furious at Ukatonen for abandoning her.
Moki hesitantly touched her elbow. “What do we do now, ski?”
“We need to tell Commander Sussman, and I want Dr. Caisson to examine him.”
“But he’s not sick,” Moki said. “He’s just gone to sleep for a while.”
“It doesn’t matter, bai. Commander Sussman will want the doctor to look at him anyway.”
Dr. Caisson folded her probe and put it in her pocket. “He’s unconscious. His heart rate and breathing are extremely slow but otherwise strong and regular. If he were human, I’d say he was in a very deep sleep, possibly even a coma. I’d like to attach him to a monitor, if I may. I have a portable one that will work out here.”
Juna nodded. “Of course, Doctor. Is he going to be all right?”
“I don’t know what’s normal for his species,” Dr. Caisson said uncertainly. “It sounds like a voluntary state, though, and you said the little one isn’t worried. We can only hope that we get out of quarantine soon, and that this state doesn’t cause him any permanent damage.”
“I’ll have to report this to the officials in charge of the quarantine,” Commander Sussman said. “It’s bound to affect our chances of getting out of here. I only wish I knew whether it will affect them for better or worse.”
Juna sat slumped in her desk chair with the lights dimmed, thinking things over. Her family had once had an old irrigation pump that seized up at the slightest provocation. Juna, who had been in charge of irrigating the section served by that pump, had to kick the pump until it ground into motion again.
The Survey still refused to explain or clarify the reasons the ship was in quarantine. Now Ukatonen had retreated into hibernation. The situation was well and truly stuck. The question was where and how to deliver a good swift kick to get things moving:
She couldn’t do much imprisoned on the ship. She needed to find someone outside who could get thin
gs unstuck for her, someone who could do the serious digging needed to ferret out the people behind the Survey’s ruling, and someone with the clout to expose what was going on.
She turned on the computer and set to work.
“Bruce, do you know anyone on the ship who can help me get around the security system on the comm channel?” Juna asked.
Bruce rolled over onto his side, and looked down at her, his face pale and moonlike in the darkness.
“Juna, are you crazy? You could flush your whole career out the airlock trying a stunt like that.”
“I’m the only one that Ukatonen and Moki will work with. The Survey can’t fire me.” Juna sat up in bed. “Going through official channels hasn’t gotten us out of this situation. If the Survey won’t listen when we ask them politely, it’s time to get in their face. It’s time to do an end run around the bureaucracy. The Tendu are headline news, but people are only hearing what the Survey chooses to release. We need to get our side of the story out.”
“It’s risky, Juna,” Bruce warned. “This whole thing could blow up in our faces.”
“The Survey could sit on us for years if we let them,” she pointed out.
“I know a computer tech who might be able to help,” Bruce admitted.
“Thank you,” Juna said.
Bruce shrugged. “I was planning on quitting after this trip. I’ve nearly made my nest egg and the Survey is no place for people who want to raise a family.”
Juna looked down. Her own marriage hadn’t survived the long Survey missions. The worst part about coming home again was realizing how much she envied her brother and the big, wonderful family he had married into. It was impossible, of course. She had the entire future of Tendu-Human relations resting on her shoulders. There was simply no time for any more family than she already had.
She kissed Bruce gently on the cheek. “I hope that whoever you settle down with brings you happiness,” she told him.
Bruce enfolded one of her hands in his. “Thank you, Juna. That means a lot to me.”
Juna smiled despite the sudden stab of longing in her heart. “I’m glad,” she said. “I should go. Moki’s waiting for me.”
“I’ll let you know if I find someone willing to help,” Bruce told her.
Juna nodded her thanks as she started to dress, unable to speak past the sudden lump in her throat. She dressed quickly, fleeing the hungers that Bruce had stirred up. In the safe privacy of her cabin, she threw herself down on the bed and gave in to pent-up tears of loneliness.
A soft touch on her shoulder interrupted her. It was Moki. Wiping her eyes, Juna sat up.
“What’s the matter, siti?” Moki asked.
Juna forced a thin smile. “I’m just tired, bai.”
Moki sat beside her on the bed and held out his spurs. They linked. Juna relaxed in the bami’s gentle presence. She might never have children of her own, but she had Moki. She floated in Mold’s love and caring, letting her own love for him rise up and flow out of her until they drifted in a dark, silent pool of warmth and safety. The two of them rested there, savoring the harmony of allu-a for a while, before emerging from the link. Juna opened her eyes and sat up. Her pain and loneliness had been eased for the moment, though she knew it would return again.
’Thank you, Moki. I feel much better.”
He touched her arm. “What is the matter, siti? This is a human sadness; allu-a cannot wash it away. Please explain it to me.”
“Oh, bai,” Juna said, taking Moki’s slender hands in hers, “you are a good bami, but this is an old sadness. Nothing can be done about it.”
“Please tell me what it is anyway, siti.”
Juna closed her eyes and rubbed her face with her hands.
“Sometimes– ” She paused, unsure of how to go on. “Sometimes I wish I was married and had family and a child of my own. It has nothing to do with you, Moki, please understand that. In fact you make things easier, because in so many ways you fill the need I have for a child. I was married once, to a nice family, but it didn’t last. I was away too much. Eventually, they divorced me.”
She sighed sadly, remembering how lost and alone she had felt then. Her father had taken her back, had been glad to see her. She had moped around the house, avoiding Toivo, who was surrounded by his happy family and bursting with pride over his newborn son, Danan. As soon as she could, Juna fled back into space. Two years later, the pain had diminished, and she spent most of her next leave getting to know Danan, who was a boisterous toddler. Toivo’s family, busy with two more youngsters and a new spouse, was grateful to Juna for looking after him. Her six months of leave had been over too quickly. Danan cried when she left, and, much to her surprise, had flung himself into her arms with a joyful bellow when she returned two and a half years later. He showed her over the whole farm, his treasures, and his hiding places. It was like being a child again. She had missed him keenly during her years away.
“Why don’t you just go ahead and have a baby?” Moki asked.
“A human baby isn’t like a Tendu bami,” Juna explained. “They’re completely helpless. They need constant supervision and care for the first several years of their lives. It’s very difficult to do alone. You need people to help you. That’s why we have families. Besides, I can’t have a baby all by myself. I need to have sex with someone to get pregnant.”
“You’re having sex with Bruce. Is he going to make you pregnant?”
Juna wasn’t in the mood to discuss complex issues like contraception and population control. “No,” she said. “I’ve taken steps to keep from getting pregnant. Actually, I’m much more worried about getting off this ship and going home again. I’m sad that I don’t have a baby, but I’ll get over it. I always have before. I appreciate your worrying about it, but this is not a problem you need to solve.”
“Forgive me, siti,” Moki said, deepening to brown in shame, his delicate, fanlike ears drooping.
“Oh, Moki,” Juna said, putting her arm around him, “it’s all right. You were trying to help, and you have. Thank you, bai.”
Moki brightened at her praise.
“I have some work to do now. Why don’t you check on Ukatonen?”
Obedient as always, Moki left her to her work. Juna smiled a little sadly. He was more independent than a human child. Sometimes she wished that he needed her more. He slipped out of her grasp like a breeze floating out through an open window.
Juna sighed and woke her computer. She scanned the jjewsnet files, downloading all the articles she could find on the Tendu. The popular response to the Tendu was divided into two camps. There was the fear camp, which immediately began trying to determine what kind of a threat the Tendu posed. And there was the somewhat smaller, but no less avid, awe camp, which spoke of how the Tendu had come to heal the human race, and exalted them as noble savages. Several of the gushier articles gave Juna the giggles; the rest just made her feel vaguely queasy.
A small group of net reporters held the middle ground, dispensing informative and objective articles about the Tendu. They were, most of them, cautiously optimistic, but were waiting for further details.
Among the latter group of reporters, Analin Goudrian’s work stood out. She had a deeper insight than most of the other journalists, and the glimmerings of a sense of humor filtered through the objective prose. She seemed genuinely interested and curious about the Tendu for themselves, not in terms of what they meant to humanity. Juna created a file of her stories to look through the next morning, shut down the computer, and went to bed.
The next morning, before breakfast, she read through Goudrian’s story file, then downloaded as much background material as she could about the reporter. Goudrian was in her thirties, only four years younger than Juna. Juna could not help smiling back at the slender, dark-haired reporter’s photograph. She was from the Nederlands, in northern Europe, which was a good sign. Juna had always admired the Dutch people’s history of tolerance. Goudrian had been a stringer for WorldNet for six
years. Before that, she’d had several vastly different jobs, ranging from Ecorps worker to tour guide to net gofer. She had graduated from the University of Amsterdam with advanced degrees in anthropology and cultural preservation. That explained a great deal. Anthropologists, unlike the Alien Contact people, actually got some practice in their discipline.
Juna realized that she had made up her mind. She copied out the background information on Goudrian and headed off for a well-earned breakfast.
“How’s it going?” Bruce asked.
“I’m about ready to contact someone,” Juna said.
“I’ll let my friend know,” Bruce told her.
After breakfast, Juna found Moki sitting beside the pile of moist leaves that concealed Ukatonen’s sleeping form. She told the bami about her plans, and showed him her file on the reporter. Moki read it over, his skin a pensive dark blue.
“What do you think, bai?” she said when he was done reading.
Moki studied Goudrian’s photograph carefully. “She looks like a nice human, siti. But you are my sitik. You must find the best way to get us off this ship.”
Juna squatted down beside the bami. “I know, but this is risky. I could get us quarantined here forever by contacting this woman. I have only a little control over what kind of story she chooses to tell, and even less control over whether this works.” She glanced down at Ukato-nen’s leaf-shrouded form. “I wish Ukatonen was awake.”
Moki laid a hand on her arm. “What is making you hesitate, siti?”
Juna sighed. “I don’t want to make things worse. I don’t want to fail.”
“It is your decision, siti,” Moki said. “But I think there is little you can do to make this situation worse.”
“I know, bai,” Juna replied with a rueful smile. “I know.” She stood, brushing a few stray leaves off her uniform. “You’re right. Things can’t get much worse than this,” she said with sudden resolve. “I’ll do it as soon as Bruce can get us a comm line out.”
“It’s all right to go ahead and call your aunt Analin,” Bruce told her two mornings later at breakfast.
