Through Alien Eyes

by Amy Thomson

  “You know most of the details already,” Juna told him. “Moki’s all right, despite his arm. It will grow back. It’s Ukatonen that I’m worried about. He was all right while we were getting here, but now …” She shrugged helplessly. “Now all he has to think about is his injury. He spends most of his time brooding about what he’s lost. I’m worried that he’ll decide to die.”

  “Let me talk to him,” Toivo offered. “Maybe I can help.”

  Ukatonen sat in his darkened room, pondering his situation. At home on Tiangi, he would tie up all the things he had left undone, or pass along whatever he could not complete to the enkar that he had trained. He would then retreat into the forest for several weeks, thinking over his life, and then emerge for a final ceremony of leave-taking with his enkar brethren. Then he would become one with the forest, alive only in the memory of the Tendu.

  But he was far from home, and alone. There was no one that could take up his obligations. It might be years before he could go home again. He had to bear the dishonor of living like this. But how?

  There was a knock on the door that connected his room o Eerin’s. Ukatonen ignored it. He wasn’t in the mood for company. The door opened anyway. He looked up, angry, and to his shame, a little afraid.

  “Toivo,” he said. “I didn’t know you were here.”

  “We just got in,” Toivo told him. He paused, “I wish I could heal you the way that you healed me, but– ” He spread his hands in a gesture of resignation. “If there’s anything I can do to help you, en, please tell me.”

  Ukatonen sat silent for a few moments, wrestling with his dignity. “How did you manage, living like that? How could you do it?” he said at last.

  “It was never easy, en,” Toivo told the enkar, sitting on a low stool across from him. “You know I tried to die. My family loved me too much to let me go.” He looked down at his hands as they rested on his knees. “At first, I was so angry that I couldn’t speak to them. That was when I moved out to the zero-gee satellite, where I could die in peace if I wanted to. And then”—he looked up at Ukatonen—“suddenly I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not there, not so far away from everyone I loved, everyone familiar. Then, a few months later, Juna came home, and I had to see her before I died.”

  Toivo was silent for a while, his eyes shadowed in the darkened room, clearly remembering that time. “I guess– ” he continued, meeting Ukatonen’s eyes, “I guess you just take it one day at a time. Don’t think of the long run, focus on today, focus on now. If you think of spending ihe rest of your life as a cripple, well, you’ll go crazy.”

  Ukatonen nodded. “I’ll try.” Even to his own ears he sounded dubious.

  Toivo smiled. “It isn’t easy,” he said. “But you’ve got a choice. You can sit here in a dark room and think about your injury, or you can get on with your life. I suggest getting on with your life. You know, it could be much worse. You can walk and talk and even link, even if your -kill isn’t what it once was.”

  “You don’t understand,” Ukatonen protested. “I’ve lost skill that took me centuries to learn. My presence was one of the strongest among the enkar. It made me a powerful healer. It helped me resolve differences. Now,” he said, a cloud of grey misting his skin, “I’m a cripple. At home my weakness would bring dishonor on all the enkar. I would be expected to die.”

  Toivo clasped Ukatonen’s slender, long-fingered hands in his big, square, work-roughened ones, and met the enkar’s gaze. “But you’re not on Tiangi, en. You’re here in human space. You’re doing things none of your people have ever done before. Maybe this is one more thing that you’re learning to do differently. Maybe this is a lesson you can take home to your people. You won’t know unless you live long enough to find out.”

  “I suppose,” Ukatonen ventured, “I’ll have to try. I must live to get back to Tiangi. I need to teach my people what I have learned.” Then I can die, tie thought to himself, but he did not say it aloud.

  Toivo held out his hand. “One day at a time, Ukatonen. Let’s get started on living through today.”

  Moki watched Ukatonen struggle with the gap left behind by his injury. He ached to help him, but Ukatonen shrugged off any attempts to reach him through allu-a, though he continued to work with Moki on making his arm grow back. When they returned to Berry Station, Eerin’s family did their best to comfort Ukatonen, but that only made him withdraw further into the shell of his dignity and reserve. At least he had reached out to Eerin’s brother. Ukatonen would spend hours working beside Toivo, saying nothing, apparently completely absorbed in the task at hand. He came in at the end of the day completely exhausted, but relaxed, his skin a slight bluish green. It was not quite contentment, not quite relief, but it was clear that the hard physical labor had brought the grieving enkar some kind of peace.

  There were times when Moki was sure the enkar was going to give up, that they were going to walk into his room one morning and find him dead. But slowly, painfully, Ukatonen began to win against the darkness. At first there were a few moments when the enkar seemed to forget his [[jacn.]] and then an occasional hour of quiet contentment. “"-.en one evening, right after Eerin had put Mariam to [[-ec.]] Ukatonen, accompanied by Toivo, knocked on her ik-or and held out his arms for allu-a.

  Moki sat up, ears spread wide in surprise, but Eerin laid i cautioning hand on his leg and said, “Of course, [[en. -"]]ease come in.”

  Moki had never thought he would be relieved by Ukatonen’s injury, but after that link, he was. Ukatonen’s grief [[red]] through them like a hurricane. He and Eerin waited il the storm passed, and then gently, carefully, enfolded [[:n.]] soothing away the rest of his grief and pain. Ukatonen opened himself to them like a flower. He had never really fully opened to them before, Moki realized. Before, Ukatonen had always screened a part of himself away. Now, feeling the intensity of loneliness behind the wall of the enkar’s reserve, Moki understood why. So much loneliness was a fearsome thing. To Moki, it seemed like it would engulf the world. He started to retreat, afraid that they would be caught in a downward spiral, but Eerin drew him back into the link, and they waited, giving what they could to heal Ukatonen’s broken spirit. At last Ukatonen regained a measure of control, and they achieved emotional equilibrium.

  Gently, they slid out of the link. Moki was very hungry. Glancing at the window, he realized that the sky was greying toward dawn.

  “Let’s go get something to eat,” he said, looking at the other two. There were dark patches under his sitik’s eyes, and Ukatonen was pale with exhaustion. Somehow on the way downstairs the trek to the kitchen turned into a mock hunting expedition. They crept quietly down the steps, peered carefully into the kitchen, and then attacked the refrigerator and pantry. They collapsed on the floor in a rippling, giggling heap, and then, weak with laughter, proceeded to stuff themselves on fruit, honey, bread, and meat.

  They were just cleaning up, and getting breakfast set up for the early risers when Danan and Selena came in.

  “Hey, Mom and I were in charge of breakfast this morning!” Danan protested.

  “Well, we were up,” Eerin replied. “It’s been kind of a long night.” She glanced over at Ukatonen. “But it’s over now, and we were going to go upstairs and get some rest as soon as we were done here.”

  “Well then, shoo!” Selena told them. “You’re done. Go get some sleep. You look like you need it.”

  “Of course, Selena,” Eerin said meekly. They trooped up the stairs, passing several sleepy family members on their way down. It felt strange to be going to bed when the rest of the family was just getting up, but Moki fell asleep almost as soon as he had settled himself under the covers.

  Ukatonen woke the next morning feeling somehow lighter and more free than he’d felt in several hundred years. He remembered that incredible, harrowing link and slid his nictitating membranes over his eyes and pushed the memory away. He must not allow that kind of pain even a remembered foothold in his mind.

  From that day o
n, it got easier. There were still bad days, filled with the sour coldness of misery, or sour and tight with frustration, but they were only days, or hours, and he could get over them with a link, or sometimes even a joke. Gradually his reserve lifted, and he unfolded like a fragrant girra flower at sunset.

  The response from others to this change was remarkable. People opened up to him in ways he never expected. Mariam began solemnly showing him flowers and rocks and bugs. Old Niccolo and his wife Rosa, sat and told him stories of the family and its history. Selena showed him sketches that she had made of the family, and surprisingly, a couple of him, sound asleep. He sat for her while she filled page after page of her sketchbook with drawings of him. She had a real gift for catching a characteristic pose. Suddenly the world was full of warmth and love. How had he missed it before?

  He was in the kitchen, washing dishes, enjoying the feel of the warm water on his hands when Moki came bursting in.

  “Ukatonen! They’re coming! They’re coming!”

  “Who’s coming, Moki?” he asked.

  “Anitonen and Naratonen!” he said. “They’re coming to Earth on the next supply boat back from Tiangi.”

  Ukatonen squeezed out the sponge he was using, feeling his happiness ooze out like the water from the sponge. “When?” he asked in sound speech, not trusting his skin to hide the sudden, deep despair he was feeling.

  “Eerin says it’ll be another six months at least,” Moki told him. “The announcement came from a supply ship that just made the jump from Tiangi.”

  “What about greensickness?” Ukatonen asked. “How are they going to keep them from getting sick?”

  “Eerin says that they’ve specially outfitted the ship to make the Tendu feel more comfortable.”

  “Good,” Ukatonen said. “I’m glad their trip will be easier than ours.” He set the sponge down and wandered out of the kitchen, through the fields and up into the forest, where he sat looking out at the enclosed, cylindrical landscape of Berry Station. He was simultaneously anticipating and dreading the thought of seeing the other enkar. What would they think of him now, with his injury, and his lack of a decent enkarish reserve?

  He sat there, pondering this until the light began to dim for evening. He got up and swung home with a heavy heart. Eerin was waiting for him on the darkened porch. “Moki thought you might be upset about the enkar coming,” she said as he reached the top step.

  Ukatonen shrugged. “I’m– so different now. What are they going to think of me, like this?”

  “You have much to teach them, en. And not all of it will be about humans.”

  Ukatonen looked at her for a long moment. “They do not want to learn what I have to teach, Eerin.”

  “Nevertheless, it’s an important lesson and one they should learn. How many wise and intelligent enkar die because a judgment goes awry for reasons they cannot control? How many maimed Tendu feel that they have to die because they are not perfect? The enkar need to learn to forgive themselves, en. Each one that dies is a loss, not just for themselves, but for the Tendu as a species. There are many lessons your people could learn by allowing the disabled to live. Lessons of patience, struggle, and strength.”

  “Those are human lessons, Eerin,” he said. “I don’t think the Tendu can learn them.”

  He turned and went inside, climbed up the stairs to his room, and shut the door. Despite all they’d been through together, Eerin didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, what he was going through.

  Juna drove Ukatonen to the shuttle station two days later. He was heading back down to a research station in Australia, ostensibly to do some restoration work. She had pushed him too far, and he was running away. Not that she could blame him. The news about the upcoming visit from the enkar had nearly unravelled all the progress he had made since his injury.

  “You don’t have to go, Ukatonen,” she said as a member of his security escort opened the door of the truck.

  “I have to go,” he said. “They need me down there, and besides, it’ll give me time to think things over.” He brushed her shoulder affectionately. “I know you want to help, but I need to do this my own way.”

  “All right, en, but remember, if you need us, we’re here.”

  Ukatonen turned a clear pale blue. “I know. And I’m grateful.” He enfolded her in a long-armed hug. “Thank you. And please thank Toivo and Moki and the rest of the family for me.”

  “I will.”

  He withdrew from Eerin’s embrace and picked up his bag; then, accompanied by his guards, he headed down the passageway to catch the shuttle.

  * * *

  Stan Akuka met him at the airport. “How’re you doin’ mate?” he asked. “We heard you were hurt. You okay?”

  “I suppose,” Ukatonen allowed.

  “They’re looking forward to seeing you up at the station. There’s a bunch of me mates up there waiting to meet you, as well. You look like you could do with a bit of a party.”

  Ukatonen nodded.

  “Cmon then,” Stan said. “Let’s go.”

  He stayed at the research station for a day or two. Then, he moved out into the bush with the Aboriginals, much to the dismay of the researchers and his security escorts. The Aboriginals lived more like the Tendu than any other humans he had encountered. They taught him about the jungle, showing him medicinal plants, and relating stories about the animals– where they lived, and what they ate. They admired his skill at hunting, and his ability to climb trees. He admired the Aboriginals’ quiet patience, and their sense of humor.

  In the evenings, they told stories, and sang songs, and danced. He would perform a quarbirri, accompanied by the somber drone of the didgeridoo, drums, rattles, and flutes. The Aboriginals watched in silent appreciation.

  Sometimes he would link with one or two of the Aboriginals that he especially liked. He found, to his surprise, that his injury made him pay more attention to the others in the link. He learned more about the Aboriginals’ internal life than he would have if his presence had dominated the link. Working with them, he learned die advantage of quiet attention and patience. It was a lesson he thought he had learned many centuries ago. He had not expected to have to learn it over again.

  Living with these dark, silent people was more like living in a Tendu village than like living among humans. Many of the men and women he talked to were college-educated. Some even had advanced degrees in various disciplines. But at some point they had set down their “white” occupations, as they called them, and returned to the bush, some for a few months or weeks, some for the rest of their lives. He understood, but he didn’t think he could explain it to someone who was not an Aboriginal or a Tendu. Eerin might understand, perhaps. She knew what it was like to live this way, but for her, the bush was not really home, not like it was for him, or for these people.

  He mentioned this to Stan one night, as the fire died down to embers. Stan nodded. “You either have the spirit in your heart, or you don’t. If you don’t, it’s meaningless.”

  ’Tell me about the whites. I still don’t know the story of what they did.”

  “They came here and drove us off the land,” Stan said. “They hunted us like animals, made us slaves. They took children away from their families and sent them to mission schools. They nearly ended’the Dreamtime for us.”

  “Why did they do it?” Ukatonen asked.

  “If I understood that, I guess I’d be white too,” Stan said. “They wanted our land. We were different. We were in the way. But we survived. Despite all they did to try to change us, we survived. We remembered the old songs, not all of them, but enough. Eventually, they let us alone again, and we were able to rebuild. Sometimes it’s still hard. Those of us with degrees, it tore us apart sometimes, the gap between the white world and the real world. Some of us die trying to fill that gap. Others just seem to learn to live with a white soul and a black one. A few, like me, go walkabout and never really return. A lot more stay white. But there’s always a new generation
of us here in the bush. There’s always enough to keep the song lines active.”

  Ukatonen was silent for a while, then finally asked the question that had been weighing on his spirit since that afternoon on the zeppelin.

  “Do you think that humans can do to us what they did to you?”

  “If they can, they will,” Stan said. “There will always be those who understand, those who care. But there will also be the greedy ones. Both of them are dangerous, because both of them bring change. Those people who built the mission schools cared enough to want to take us out of the bush where we were happy, and try to make us white. You must not let them do the same to your people.”

  “How do we stop them?” Ukatonen asked.

  “If we knew that, this would still be our land. I’m sorry, Ukatonen. That is something your people will have to figure out for yourselves. We’d like to help, but remember, we lost the fight.”

  “I like them,” Ukatonen confessed. “They’re so alive. There is so much my people could learn from them. So much we could learn from each other. But– ” He shook his head.

  “They’ve made a right mess of the planet, though,” Stan noted.

  “I don’t want that to happen to Tiangi.”

  “Well, what are you goin’ to do to stop it?”

  Ukatonen shook his head and stared into the glowing red embers of the fire, lost in thought. After a while he heard Stan get up and walk off to his bark shelter.

  Stan’s question haunted him for three days. Finally he started gathering his things together.

  “You goin’, then?” Stan asked.

  Ukatonen nodded.

  “Have you figured out what you’re goin’ to do?”

  “No,” Ukatonen said, “but I do know that I have to stop running away from the problem. I’ve got a couple of my people coming here to Earth. Maybe they can help me figure out what to do.”