by Amy Thomson
“That was a tough briefing,” Eerin remarked. “I’m looking forward to lunch. It’ll be nice to spend an hour stuffing my body instead of stuffing my brain.”
“You found it hard too?” Ukatonen asked, spreading his ears in surprise.
“Of course I did. They shoved an awful lot of stuff at us today.”
“But you know what a President is already. You understand human governments.”
Eerin smiled and shook her head. “I may know what a President is, but I can’t claim to understand government.”
She was making a joke, Ukatonen realized.
“There’s just so much to remember,” Ukatonen said, fighting to keep his words slow and calm. “I don’t want to make any mistakes.”
“Ukatonen,” Eerin said, “no one expects you to remember it all perfectly, and even if you did, someone else might forget. This is just to help prevent misunderstandings. The presidents and royalty you’ll be meeting are as worried about making mistakes as you are, and they know much less about your people than you know about us. Don’t worry, there will be people there to help remind us of what to do.”
“But I’m an enkar,” he insisted. “I should know what to do.”
“Ukatonen, this isn’t Tiangi. Everything here is new for you. In a situation like this even an enkar can make a mistake or two. Personally, I think you’ll do better than I will.”
“Really?” he said, surprised.
“En, I’ve never done anything like this before,” she told him. “You’ve spent hundreds of years visiting the chiefs of different villages. This isn’t really all that much different. There are different titles and ceremonies, but it’s the same basic situation. We’re just trying to make sure that you don’t do anything that wiil cause you or the leaders to lose face. That’s why they’re teaching us all this protocol. But we’re not visiting every single government on Earth. We’ve had to choose the ones that are the most important. So just by visiting them, you’ll be giving them status.”
“I see,” Ukatonen said. “Then why are we learning all of this?”
“Because these are the things that human diplomats must know. If the people you’re going to meet have a familiar framework in which to place you, they’ll feel more at ease.”
“But I’m not a human diplomat,” he pointed out.
Eerin nodded. “That’s why you don’t have to do everything perfectly.”
Ukatonen shook his head, more confused than ever. “I don’t understand.”
“Look, en,” Eerin said, “you’re an alien. They expect you to be different. They expect there to be misunderstandings and mistakes. There are misunderstandings and mistakes enough between humans from different cultures. That’s why we have all of this protocol in the first place. To prevent misunderstandings. Just do the best you can, and rely on me and the other members of the team to help out if you get confused. Trust us, okay?”
“All right,” he said. But I’m an enkar, he thought, and I’m not supposed to make mistakes. All of the truths that made up his world seemed to be crumbling away to nothing while he put on a brave front.
Moki sat through another long meeting with some famous human, trying not to look bored. They had been on Earth for over a week and all they had done was have meetings with important people. He had tried telling himself that it was just like being a bami for the chief elder of a village, but it wasn’t. A chief elder would have kept him busy waiting on the needs of his visitors. Here he had to sit still and watch, and pretend to listen. He wasn’t really learning anything, not after the first week of this. They spent all their time in buildings and trains and cars. There had been a few nice gardens, but they were all clipped and tame. When were they going to see the real Earth, the jungles and the forests? He hadn’t climbed a tree since they left Berry Station.
Moki glanced over at Ukatonen, who sat leaning forward, ears spread wide, apparently listening intently to everything this current leader, President of a country called the Re-United States, had to say. It wasn’t anything that they hadn’t heard a dozen times before. His country welcomed the Tendu, and wished for better relations with them. They were eager to trade with the Tendu when the opportunity arose. Glapetty, glap, glap, glah … It went on and on, and was apparently meaningless.
Finally the meeting broke up, and they went for a walk in a garden behind the big white house that the President lived in. It was full of huge old rosebushes, their blossoms filling the air with scent. He liked roses. Waiting until the others were farther ahead, he tore off a handful of pale pink rose petals, and popped them into his mouth, savoring their subtle, flowery taste. He glanced up and saw one of the silent security men in dark suits smiling at him behind his sunglasses.
Moki turned a deep, embarrassed brown, and hurried to catch up to the rest of the group. Ukatonen gave him a brownish yellow flicker of reproof for lagging behind.
That evening, when they returned to their hotel room, there was a large bouquet of roses from the head gardener of the rose garden waiting for Moki, and a small tin of candied rose petals from the security people. Eerin and Analin laughed out loud when he told them the story. Ukatonen, however, turned a disapproving shade of yellowish brown.
“This embarrasses us all, Moki. I thought you knew how to behave well.”
“Oh, come on, Ukatonen,” Eerin said. “So he sneaks a few rose petals. It doesn’t matter. They think he’s just a kid.”
“If anything,” Analin added, “it will make people like him even more.”
“It does matter, Eerin. He is a bami, and he represents our people here. I will not have him behaving in a way that makes us lose face.”
“But I cannot be a bami here,” Moki complained. “At home, I would be helping to serve my sitik through these meetings. Here I can only sit and watch and try to listen. And all the meetings are the same.”
“Yes, they are, Moki, but they are all equally important as well,” Ukatonen lectured. “These people we are meeting are the chiefs of their countries. If we are to achieve harmony with humans, we must know and understand their leaders. You serve your sitik here by watching and listening. You must watch these humans closely, study them, find out what is in their hearts. If you understand the leaders, you will begin to understand their people.”
Eerin touched the enkar’s shoulder. “You are right, Ukatonen, but I think, for now, it would be wise if the humans underestimated Moki. They will speak less guardedly around him because they believe he is a child and doesn’t understand them. He will learn more, and through him we will learn more.”
Ukatonen looked thoughtful for a moment. “You’re right. I will teach Moki the art of ang-ar-gora, invisible listening. Normally we teach this skill only to enkar-in-train-ing, but this is not a normal situation, and you are not a normal bami, Moki.”
Moki’s ears spread wide, and his skin turned blue with delight. “I am honored, en.”
Ukatonen’s skin took on a faint ochre tinge of concern. “It is a hard discipline, Moki. I hope that I am not wrong to teach you this. Ang ar-gora must be used wisely and responsibly. Please do not demonstrate that I was wrong in my judgment of you.”
Moki’s ears drooped. “Yes, en,” he promised. “I will try not to disappoint you.”
Ukatonen looked suddenly tired. “I don’t think you will, Moki, but I want you to understand what I am trusting you with.” He stood. “It is time for me to sleep,” he said. “Good night.”
Concern was written across his sitik’s face as she watched Ukatonen leave. She opened her mouth to say something, but the door swung closed behind the enkar and it was too late.
“He looks tired,” she said to Moki. “I hope it’s not the greensickness returning.”
“I think he is as tired of these meetings as I am, siti,” Moki admitted. “But he is an enkar and may not say so.”
Juna woke up, went to the bathroom, and then came back to bed. It was early yet. She should get more sleep, but her body’s clock was still some
where out over the Atlantic. She adjusted the pillow that supported her growing belly. Ukatonen had been unusually short-tempered with Moki last night. The heavy schedule and Earth’s higher gravity combined to wear them down into exhaustion. She barely got through the day, and she was worried about what their demanding schedule was doing to the baby.
She rolled over onto her back and then shifted back onto her side again with a sigh. It was getting harder to find a comfortable position. She felt a sudden longing for home. She wanted to be surrounded by women who understood being pregnant and who could help her through this increasingly awkward and uncomfortable time. Instead, she was far from home, surrounded by people who expected her to function at peak efficiency, despite the demands of her pregnancy. She felt sudden tears of self-pity leaking from the corners of her eyes, and decided that it was time to get up before she dissolved into a soggy victim of pregnancy hormones.
Juna and Analin prevailed firmly upon the protocol minister to rework their schedule to allow for a free day in Costa Rica, where they would tour the cloud forests of Monteverde. There were still state visits to the leaders of Canada, Texas, and Mexico, but it gave them something to look forward to.
When they got off the plane in ^ian Jose, Ukatonen was almost vibrating with excitement. Moki, who had begun to shrink quietly into the background, in order to practice the art of invisible listening, was a blue and yellow blaze of anticipation. Juna smiled. She, too, longed for a day off in the shady depths of the jungle.
At last they were loaded into a military helicopter with the Minister of the Environment, who pointed out the various environmental reclamation projects the government had undertaken. After an hour of flying over scattered farms and plantations, they swung out over the bay and then up toward the forested peaks of the Monteverde cloud forest.
Below them, a broad green ribbon of jungle stretched from the mountains to the sea, most of which was part of the Monteverde restoration project. Moki and Ukatonen’s ears fanned wide, despite the roar of the helicopter engines. They had never seen a jungle from above before.
The helicopter landed at the edge of the airstrip and their party was escorted to a string of jeeps that took them past patches of lush pasture where cows and horses grazed placidly, then along slopes covered with coffee trees, and then into fruit trees which faded almost imperceptibly into jungle, though Juna could still detect rows of trees. A cacao plantation, Ministro Gomez explained. Then they rattled over another cattle guard and the landscape changed to true jungle. The road ended in a gravel parking lot. Their entourage rumbled to a stop, and the noisy silence of the jungle settled around them.
Juna closed her eyes and inhaled. Almost, she thought, almost she could believe she was back on Tiangi, but there were subtle differences in the scent of the forest, sweet fruitiness where there should have been musk, and the underlying scent of vegetable decay was less pungent. But these were tiny differences. She heard a buzzing noise whiz past her head, and then back again, and opened her eyes to see a shimmering green and purple hummingbird hovering in front of her, clearly puzzled by the red flowers on her shirt. She laughed and the hummingbird zoomed off into the forest. Moki and Ukatonen laughed with her, their skins a riot of blue and green. It was good to be back in a jungle, any jungle.
The director of the park guided them through the visitors’ center. The Tendu followed dutifully, though it was clear that their minds were elsewhere. After a torturous half-hour of being guided, centimeter by centimeter through the exhibits at the visitors’ center, Juna finally laid a hand on the director’s arm.
“Seiior O’Brian, your visitors’ center is amazing, but perhaps we would learn more from it after we have seen the forest,” Juna suggested tactfully.
“Oh, of course, Profesora,” he said, and showed them out of the over air-conditioned visitors’ center, and down a path into the forest. Moki and Ukatonen’s ears were fanned wide and quivering, their nostrils dilated. The park director began droning statistics at them again. They heard none of it. There was a rustling in the treetops and a patter of falling leaves. It was the last straw. Moki was up the tree in a twinkling, vanishing into the canopy. A minute later, something whirled down out of the branches onto the path. It was Moki’s shorts. Juna fought back a peal of laughter. She picked up the shorts, and looked at Ukatonen, who was quivering in his eagerness to follow Moki, held back only by the iron discipline of the enkar.
“I suppose,” she said dryly, “that you should go after him, en. I’m a bit too pregnant for clambering about in the trees.”
Ukatonen nodded, and vanished up into the trees like a green shadow. Juna smiled wistfully up at him, wishing that she could follow the Tendu. But her body was growing ungainly, and someone needed to keep the officials off their backs for as long as it took for the Tendu to come back. She turned to the director, who was staring up into the trees, a horrified expression on his face. She fought back a sudden surge of laughter.
“Shall we continue with the tour, Senor O’Brian?” she said.
“But the aliens– ” he began.
“The Tendu will be fine, Senof O’Brian. They live in a rain forest. This one is different, yes, but they will be careful.”
“What if they get lost?” one of his aides said.
Juna shook her head. “It would be like getting lost inside your own house. We will see them when they are ready to return.”
“But– ” the director began.
“It will be all right,” Juna assured him. “The Tendu won’t hurt anything, and I very much doubt that anything in this forest could hurt the Tendu.”
Ukatonen swung through the trees, feeling the branches swing and sway under his weight. They were heavier here than on Tiangi, and the canopy was lower to the ground. He was as blue with joy as a clear morning sky, and so was Moki. At last, panting, he swung to a halt. On Tiangi, he could have moved at this pace from dawn to dark, but here on Earth the heavier gravity and months of inactivity made him tire more quickly. But it was enough to be here, in a forest on another world. It was worth all the months of deprivation and waiting to be here.
Moki swung up beside him on the branch, pink flickers of excitement forking across his body and down his arms and legs.
“What shall we do first?” Moki asked.
“Sit for a while and listen. You may practice your ang-ar-gora here, where it was meant to be practiced.”
So they sat, still as the branches they sat on, as the afternoon progressed around them, bringing them a parade of animals, small and large. Lizards crawled over them, tongues flickering at their strange scent, birds flew past, and a slow-moving, furry animal munched on leaves only a few feet away, oblivious of their presence. They seemed like friends, strangely transformed, yet familiar in their roles in the forest.
As the afternoon light became golden and slanting, hunger drove them to move. Moki found a tree ripe with fruit, and they ate till their stomachs bulged. Then they found a suitable tree and built a nest.
Neither of them spoke of going back. Ukatonen knew Eerin would understand. They had waited so long for this, and the humans were only allowing them a few scant hours. It wasn’t enough, and Eerin knew it as well as they did. Moki would begin hungering for his sitik in a day or two. They would go back then. It would throw the humans’ precious schedule off, but this was more important. How could he know a world without living in its wild places?
A deep burgundy ripple of irony coursed over Ukato-nen’s skin. Before he’d come here he would never have thought of such a thing as wild places. On Tiangi, everything was wild. Here, there seemed to be almost no wilderness. How could the humans stand to be so cut off from the wild places of their world? He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath of the richly scented air, so different, yet so soothing. He felt more at home here than he had since he left Tiangi. The weight of these months of isolation fell away, and he slid into a deep, relaxed sleep.
He woke an hour or two after dawn, feeling as frisky as a cou
rting tillara. Moki had already gone out and gotten breakfast. There was fresh fruit, some young fern shoots, and one of the slow-moving mammals they had seen the day before, neatly butchered and lying on the inside of its coarse, greenish-furred skin.
“I didn’t know what was protected here,” Moki said, “so I tried to take a little of several different things that seemed plentiful.”
Ukatonen flickered acknowledgement. “We will only be here a few days. I don’t think that we can alter the balance very much in that time. Still,” he added, “we should try to eat as little meat as possible.” He helped himself to a piece of fruit, swallowing it with evident delight.
Juna, meanwhile, was busy trying to calm diplomats horrified by the crumbling of their carefully planned schedules, and appease government ministers certain that the aliens were dying from snakebites or were slaughtering endangered species by the score.
Juna patiently stood her groutTd. She explained to the diplomats that the nature of her bond with Moki meant that the roaming Tendu would return in a day or two, and reassured the government ministers that the Tendu knew how to survive in the forest, and that they would avoid poisonous snakes, and would not wantonly destroy the forest. On the third day, she went out with the search party. They spent all day exploring the forest, using dogs to try to track the Tendu, with no luck at all. When they returned to camp at sunset, Moki and Ukatonen were waiting for her in her tent. They had slipped into camp several hours before, in a test of Moki’s skill at ang-ar-gora.
Juna briefed them about what had been happening at camp. Then they slipped like shadows through the dusk, back into the jungle. Juna finished freshening up and went to meet with Seiior O’Brian, to discuss what to do next. As she sat down, there was a loud crashing in the trees overhead. Moki and Ukatonen scrabbled down the trunk of a tree. Juna smiled inwardly at the racket they were making.
“Siti?” Moki called loudly, a very convincing note of fear in his voice, “Siti, are you there?”
