by Amy Thomson
“Mm-mhm. I see. Would it be possible to meet the other Tendu now?” he asked.
“Of course, Mr. Sussman,” Juna said. “This way.”
The group followed Juna into the garden where Ukato-nen was sleeping, hooked up to an array of beeping medical monitors.
“This is a voluntary state?” Manning asked Moki.
“He decided to go to sleep and wait until we were let out of the ship,” Moki agreed.
“He’s all right otherwise?”
Moki nodded. “He just needs to be some place with trees and plants.”
“Dr. Caisson,” Manning asked, “have you found any organic cause for Ukatonen’s condition?”
“No,” the medical officer replied. “I’ve been monitoring Ukatonen ever since he went to sleep. I ran extensive blood tests, and aside from being a bit underweight, he seems healthy. He is in quite a remarkable state. His entire metabolism is running much slower than usual, but otherwise he appears normal. His brain seems to be deeply asleep. Moki feeds him and filters wastes out of his system via his spurs. If we could replicate this state of stasis, we could drastically cut the cost of space travel. We wouldn’t need to feed and amuse our passengers. Think what it would mean for transporting colonists to Terra Nova, or even Mars.”
“Are you sure that you’re not an Expansionist, Dr. Caisson?”
The doctor raised her eyebrows. “I’m not paranoid or bigoted enough to be an Expansionist,” she replied.
Juna saw Commander Sussman smile at that remark.
“I see,” Manning said once again. “Well, I’m convinced that there’s nothing wrong with the Tendu.”
He reached up and undogged his helmet.
“What are you doing!” the security escort shouted, reaching for Manning as he lifted his helmet off and shook loose his lion’s mane of fiery red hair.
“Violating quarantine,” Manning said in an amused tone of voice. “I’d let go of my arm if I were you. Roughing up the president of ISEWU wouldn’t be a good idea. The crew of the Homa Darabi Maru needs an on-site union observer to ensure that their rights aren’t being violated. Given the situation, it wouldn’t be right to ask a subordinate to risk violating quarantine, so I’m volunteering for the job.”
Juna’s eyebrows rose in astonishment and admiration.
Manning coughed several times, “And if this unreasonable quarantine is not lifted within five days, I will go on a hunger strike,” he continued in his reasonable, slightly breathless tone of voice, as though he were explaining this to a small child. “If the quarantine continues for more than ten days, I will urge all our union members to show solidarity with their fellow workers aboard the Homa Darabi Maru by declaring a general strike.”
Matters moved fairly quickly after that. Manning had brought along a small portable IR transmitter that he rigged to the ship’s antenna. He began broadcasting the union’s demands and taking part in the negotiations for their release from quarantine. Communications were restored to the ship as a whole within hours of Manning’s violation of quarantine.
Juna was besieged by requests for interviews from the press. She issued a brief statement, explaining the situation, reassuring people that the Tendu posed no health risk, and pleading for a quick release from quarantine. When she was done recording her statement, Moki touched her arm.
“Siti, can I say something to your people? I know that Ukatonen would want to if he was awake.”
Juna smiled. “Thank you, Moki. That would be wonderful.”
Moki stood in front of the recording camera. “Hello,” he said, speaking simultaneously in formal Tendu skin speech and verbal Standard. “My name is Moki, and I am a Tendu. I greet you on behalf of my people, and for Uka-tonen, who cannot speak to you today. His sickness is nothing that affects humans. He will be well as soon as we are in a natural environment. We’re looking forward to seeing your world and learning more about you. We hope that the Tendu and the humans achieve harmony together. Thank you.”
Watching her bami, Juna felt a surge of pride. He was a little awkward, but he spoke with the undeniable authority of someone who spoke from the heart. His words would help ease people’s fear of the Tendu.
“Was it okay?” Moki asked when the camera was turned off.
“It was fine,” Juna assured him. “Just fine.”
“You did well, both of you,” said someone at Juna’s side.
She looked up. It was Mr. Manning.
“Thank you,” Juna said. “And thanks for the risk you took, breaking quarantine.”
“It wasn’t much of a risk. No one was sick,” Manning said with a shrug. He sat down and took out an inhaler. “Excuse me, but I have bad lungs. Decompression burn. My suit got torn by flying debris while I was trying to patch a badly holed habitat. At least I got the hole patched.”
“You take a lot of risks,” Juna remarked.
“Somebody’s got to,” he said, looking at her levelly. “Otherwise everyone who works out in space would get screwed. The union went to bat for me when I got injured. I’m just carrying on the tradition.”
“Well,” Juna said, feeling a little awkward in the face of such commitment. “I wish it wasn’t necessary. If I’d stayed on Tiangi instead of coming home …” She left the rest unsaid.
“Juna, this is the Expansionists’ fault, not yours. It should be over soon,” Manning reassured her. “Thanks to Ms. Goudrian, the media is all over Burnham and the Survey. Burnham can’t take that kind of pressure, not in the middie of the appropriations debate. It’s a pity,” he noted, glancing down at his stomach. “I was kind of looking forward to a hunger strike. I need to lose some weight.”
“Can I see what’s wrong with your lungs?” Moki asked, when the technicians had left them alone in the room.
“All the damage is inside, Moki. There’s nothing to see.”
“That wasn’t what he meant,” Juna explained. “He wants to link with you, and see if he can heal your lungs.”
“Do you think he can?”
“The Tendu can do a lot. But there’s no guarantee. And linking can be overwhelming and a little frightening if you’re not used to it.”
Manning hesitated.
“You don’t have to decide now,” Juna said.
“Do you really think Moki can’heal me?” he asked again.
“When we were negotiating with the Tendu one of our negotiators had a massive heart attack, out in the middle of the jungle. The Tendu saved his life. The doctors who examined the man after the Tendu healed him, said that his heart was as healthy as that of a twenty-year-old. I’ve seen Tendu regrow severed limbs. And then there was what they did to me.”
“But Moki is just a child,” Manning pointed out. “Does he have the experience to do this?”
“Moki is thirty-four years old. And he’s been learning from one of the best healers on Tiangi.”
“And Juna will be monitoring me,” Moki added.
“I’ve felt like a fish out of water every day for the last ten years,” Manning said, looking thoughtfully down at Moki. “And if you say that he can heal me, then I’m willing to try it. What do I do?”
“Roll up your sleeves, and hold out your arms,” Juna directed.
Moki pulled his chair a little closer to Manning, and grasped his outstretched arm. Juna grasped Moki’s other arm.
They linked. Juna could taste the flat acidity of insufficiently oxygenated blood, felt the leathery scars of decompression burn on the inside of Manning’s lungs. She felt the bright, tart taste of Manning’s fear, and enfolded him in reassurance. When he was calm again, Moki set to work clearing away the scarring that kept Manning’s lungs from fully expanding. Then he triggered the growth of fresh new tissue in the damaged parts of his lungs. That done, the bami scanned the rest of Manning’s body for more subtle damage.
Moki had learned a lot from Ukatonen. He tired much less easily now than he had back on Tiangi. He managed to repair a damaged shoulder joint and cleared most of the pl
aque from the inside of Manning’s major arteries before Juna broke the link. She would have to tell Ukatonen how much Moki had improved.
Manning awoke. Cautiously, he took a breath, then another, deeper one. “It doesn’t hurt!” he said wonderingly. “I can take a deep breath and it doesn’t hurt!” His voice sounded smoother, all traces of the previous hoarseness gone.
“Your lungs will improve as more new tissue grows back,” Moki told him. “It’ll take a week or so before it’s done. Eat lots of meat and vegetables. Get plenty of sleep. Your body will be working hard.”
Manning took Moki’s hand in his. “Thank you.”
“Thank you for trying to get us out of here,” the Tendu said.
“It’s my job,” Manning replied.
“And healing is part of what I do,” Moki said. “We have achieved harmony.”
Manning returned to the negotiations with a vigor and energy that amazed his opponents. A day later, word came that the quarantine would be lifted the next day. Joy swept through the ship. The crew cheered, embraced one another, and then hurried off to pack.
Ukatonen was swimming deep below the surface of the sea, the waters dark and murky. The faint shadows of fish flickered away from him as he swam. The water was thick with the taste of life. He swam through a curtain of millions of tiny plants and animals, living, breeding, dying, and being born. It was cold and dark, but reassuring to be surrounded by so much life, even here in the depths.
Suddenly a brilliant beam of light cut down through the water, and he was surrounded by the sweet taste of joy. A presence swam with him, a familiar one. He turned and followed it up, up out of the depths into the sunlit shallows. As the dream grew brighter, he recognized the presence. It was Moki. He emerged from the link, opening his eyes.
He remembered where he was, and why he was asleep.
’The quarantine?”
“They’re letting us out tomorrow.”
Leaf mold flaked and crumbled off Ukatonen’s body as he slowly sat up, still a little dazed from so much sleep.
“Here, en.” Moki handed him* a hot bowl of soup. “Eat this, it will help.”
He could feel himself settling back into consciousness as he ate the soup, as though he had been shattered and the soup was gluing him back together.
Finished, he handed the bowl to Moki and stood, brushing away as much of the remaining leaf mold as he could. He washed off the rest underneath a hose, oblivious of the stares of the humans. Then, still wet, he climbed into a pair of shorts and followed Moki back to their cabin.
Eerin had prepared a feast of fresh vegetables, fruit, and even some raw fish and chicken, all arranged on clean, fresh leaves from the garden. There was also a small gourd filled with Earth honey. It was clear that she had taken pains to make the meal as much like a Tendu feast as she could. While he ate, they told him everything that had happened while he was asleep.
After the meal, Ukatonen went out for a final walk around the ship. It was awash in celebration as the humans said goodbye to each other. He felt a little lonely as he watched the humans rejoice in their hard-won freedom. They were celebrating a homecoming, and he was leaving for an unknown world.
A yellow flicker of irritation forked down the inside of Ukatonen’s arm. He was an enkar; he should be used to leave-takings. After all, he had spent hundreds of years traveling from one place to another. The handful of years he would spend here would be barely an eye blink. Yet he had already been overwhelmed by the humans’ difference. Even Moki, a mere bami, had dealt with the changes better than he had. If he hadn’t gotten greensick, the humans would not have had the excuse to keep them locked up in here. Ukatonen turned deep brown with shame as he thought of how weak he had been on the journey here. He would have to do better from here on out, he told himself.
Moki touched him on the arm. He looked down. The bami held his spurs out, requesting a link. Ukatonen looked at the crowd of humans laughing and talking with each other in the lounge. “Let’s go to the garden,” he said in skin speech. ^’It’s quieter there.”
The garden was deserted except for a couple of humans who were more intent on each other than their surroundings. The garden looked a little tired. Many of the plants they had grown were going to seed, or had gotten lank and tired-looking. The sunflowers in the circle were going dry and brown as the seeds in their big flower heads ripened.
“It’ll be good to see real trees again,” Moki said.
Ukatonen nodded, and they sat in silence a while longer, taking comfort in each other and the garden. It was easier to take comfort here now that Ukatonen knew they would be leaving it behind.
“I’ll miss this place,” Moki remarked. “We worked hard here.”
“There will be other places,” Ukatonen told him. “You have done good work here, and it is time to move on. That is one of the things you’ll have to learn in order to become a good enkar.”
“An enkar? En, I am much too young for such things.”
“Nevertheless, someday you will become one. I allowed Eerin to adopt you for a reason. We need to understand the humans, and that is your job. You must pay attention to the humans, Moki. You must come to understand them so well that they do not surprise you. One day humans will be your atwa. You will be responsible to them and for them. They must be brought into harmony.”
“I can’t do that, en. Humans are not like the Tendu. Besides, there are many humans, and I am only one person. I cannot change them all.”
“If the humans and the Tendu do not achieve harmony, both will suffer,” Ukatonen informed him. He touched Moki on the shoulder. “And you are not alone. The other enkar will help you. But we need to know more about the humans before we can bring them into harmony. That is why we are here. That is why Eerin is your sitik.” He looked directly into Moki’s golden eyes. “You must never forget that. One day you will be an enkar, and then nothing must matter to you but the good of the Tendu. Do you understand?”
“Yes, en, I understand,” Moki said in formal skin speech. He held his arms out for allu-a.
Ukatonen grasped Moki’s forearms and they linked. The bami’s presence was muddy and roiling with doubt. Ukatonen enfolded him with reassurance and approval. Moki’s turmoil gradually eased, and they achieved a harmonious equilibrium, though Ukatonen could still sense the faint muddy tinge of doubt remaining in Moki.
It was no matter, the bami would learn. Already Moki had the makings of an exceptional elder. With Ukatonen’s guidance, Moki would then become an outstanding enkar. All that was needed was time and patience, and Moki would find his way as surely as a stream finds its way to the ocean.
Moki breathed deeply and regularly, his body at rest. Outwardly he seemed sound asleep, but he was awake, and deeply troubled by Ukatonen’s words. It disturbed him to see his future laid out so neatly by someone else. He was coming to prefer the humans’ way of letting each person decide their own future.
Besides, he didn’t think that it was possible to bring the humans into harmony with the Tendu, and even if he could, he wasn’t sure that he should. He liked the humans the way they were.
Juna lay awake beside Bruce, too excited to sleep. Tomorrow she would be off the ship, and free. Then life would get complicated. She knew that she should be organizing some kind of diplomatic mission for the Tendu, and dealing with the requests for interviews and research that had already begun pouring in, but first she needed to see her family. First thing tomorrow she would put in for leave. It was nearly harvest time and they would need her. And then there was Toivo . … Juna pulled the sheet a little higher, and turned onto her side, trying to quell her rising emotions.
Tomorrow, she told herself firmly. Get some sleep and think about all of this tomorrow. She slid closer to Bruce, savoring his warmth. Though it was clear that they were too different to make a lasting pair, he had been good company. Good in bed, too, she thought with a smile. She would miss him. She slid into sleep, amid a haze of fond memories.
T
hree
Ukatonen stood with Moki and Eerin as the doors of the airlock swung open. A man in an ensign’s uniform led a group of six other humans wearing privates’ uniforms through the airlock. Ukatonen found uniforms oddly comforting. They carried meaning, like skin speech. It was easy to tell the status of the people wearing them. If all humans wore uniforms, his life would be a great deal easier.
’The airlock is ready for departure, Commander.”
“Thank you, Ensign, the crew is ready to disembark,” Commander Sussman replied. Though she was trying to hide it behind a mask of formality, Sussman’s joy at their release from quarantine was obvious. Watching her, Ukatonen understood that Commander Sussman was as constrained by her rank as an enkar. He wished he had understood that earlier, he could have learned so much from her.
The ensign turned to Eerin and the Tendu. “Dr. Saari, the press is waiting to speak to you. If you and the Tendu will come with me?”
Eerin nodded. “Thank you, Ensign.”
Ukatonen picked up his small duffle bag. The crew of the Homa Darabi Maru cheered as the security escort ushered the three of them off the ship. They went down the long, brightly lit tunnel of the airlock and then onto a metal walkway that overlooked an enormous room with high ceilings and bright lights. Huge machines moved immense metal boxes around. The air rang with the whine of machinery and the heavy clang of metal. The smell of metal and hot oil was strong enough to taste.
“It’s the cargo bay,” Eerin shouted over the noisy machines. “This is where the ships are loaded and unloaded.”
Moki stared down in fascination at the enormous machines, his skin roiling with excitement and awe. Ukato-nen felt small and exposed, like a tinka in a clearing.
He was relieved when they passed through another airlock, then down a long corridor, -and out into a wide, brilliantly lit atrium. It was a huge room, full of humans. Towering over the crowd was an enormous tree. Long streamers of vines and aerial roots trailed from its branches down to the ground. Ukatonen stopped dead, all pretense at nonchalance forgotten. Under the wet-bird smell of the assembled humans, Ukatonen could smell the rich green aliveness of the tree. The rest of the room ceased to exist for him as he headed for the tree, aching to feel bark beneath his hands and feet again.
