by Neil Clarke
2
The entry bay of the small space station orbiting Christmas was empty and sterile, with none of the personal details that a place accumulated with time, the details that made it lived-in rather than just in use. Toni was glad she would soon be moving to the planet’s surface. Blank walls were more daunting than an archaic culture and an unknown language anytime.
Two men were there to meet her, and neither one was the team xeno-linguist.
The elder of the two stepped forward, his hand outstretched. “Welcome to the Penthesilea, Dr. Donato.”
“Thank you, Captain Ainsworth. It’s a pleasure to meet you. And please, call me Toni.”
Ainsworth smiled but didn’t offer his own first name in exchange. Hierarchies were being established quickly.
“Toni, this is Dr. Samuel Wu, the new xenoteam sociologist.”
From their vid communications, Toni had expected to like Sam Wu, and now she was sure of it. His smile was slow and sincere and his handshake firm. Besides, he was in a similar position on the team, having been brought into the project late after the original sociologist, Landra Saleh, had developed a serious intolerance to something in the atmosphere of Christmas, despite the battery of tests they all went through before being assigned to a new planet.
“Nice to meet you in person, Toni,” Sam said.
“Nice to meet you too.” Toni looked from one to the other. ‘And Dr. Repnik? Was he unable to leave the planet?”
There was a short silence. “Uh, he thought Dr. Wu could brief you on anything that has come up since the last communication you received. Continued study of the language has precedence at this point.”
Toni nodded. “Of course.” But that didn’t change the fact that another xenolinguist could brief her better than a sociologist—especially one who had only been on the planet a week himself.
As Ainsworth led her to her quarters aboard ship, she drew Sam aside. “Okay, what’s all this about?”
“I was afraid you’d notice,” he said, grimacing. “And?”
“I guess it’s only fair that you know what you’ll be up against. Rep-nik didn’t think a female linguist needed to be added to the team, but Ainsworth insisted on it.”
Toni sighed. She had been looking forward to working with Repnik. Of the dozen inhabited worlds discovered in the last century, he’d been on the xenoteams of half of them and had been the initial xenolinguist on three. He had more experience in making sense of unknown languages than anyone alive. And the languages of Christmas were a fascinating puzzle, a puzzle she’d thought she would get a chance to work on with one of the greatest xenolinguists in the galaxy. Instead, she would be a grunt again—an unwanted grunt.
“Here we are,” Ainsworth said, as the door to one of the cabins opened at his touch. “We’ll have the entrance reprogrammed as soon as you settle in.”
“Thank you.”
“We’ll be going planetside tomorrow. I hope that’s enough time for you to recover from your journey.”
It never was, but it was all she was going to get. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
“Good, then I will leave you with Dr. Wu so that he can brief you on anything you still need to know.”
She set her bag down on the narrow bed and gazed out the viewport at the planet. It was a a striking sight. The discovery team that had done the first fly-by of the Sgr 132 solar system had given it the name Christmas. The vegetation was largely shades of red and the ocean had a greenish cast, while the narrow band of rings alternated shades of green and gold. There was only one major continent, looking from the viewport now like an inverted pine tree. The effect of the whole was like Christmas wrapping paper with the colors reversed.
One more day, and she’d finally be there.
Sam stepped up behind her. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“And how.” She gazed at the planet in silence for a moment and then turned to Sam. “So how did Repnik think he would be able to gather data on the women’s language without a female xenolinguist?”
“He wanted to plant more probes and use the technicians and crew of the Penthesilea.”
She shook her head. “But they’re not trained in working with an alien language.”
“That’s what Ainsworth said.” He raised one eyebrow and smiled. “Except he added that they were needed on the ship for the jobs they’d been hired to do.”
Toni chuckled despite the ache in her gut. “I think I’m going to be very grateful you’re on this team, Sam.”
Sam grinned. “Ditto.”
3
From: The Allied Interstellar Community General Catalog. Entry for Sgr 132-3, also known as Christmas, or Kailazh (land) in the native tongue.
The third planet in the system of Sgr 132 is 1.2 AU from its sun, has a diameter of 15,840 kilometers, a density of 3.9, and 0.92G. The day is 16.7 standard hours and the year 743 days (1.42 Earth years). It is iron poor but rich in light metals. Satellites: three shepherd moons within a thin ring of debris. Land mass consists largely of one supercontinent covering most of one pole and extending south past the equator. It is now known to be a seeded planet of hominid inhabitants with a number of plants and animals also related to Terran species. Date of original colonization of the planet is as yet unknown. Technological status: pre-automa-tion, primitive machines, rudimentary scientific knowledge. There is no written language.
4
The first thing Toni noticed when she stepped off the shuttle was the scent of the air, tantalizing and slightly spicy, as if someone were baking cookies with cardamom and cinnamon.
The second thing she noticed was the gravity. Christmas had slightly lower gravity than Earth, but Toni had grown up on Mars, and it certainly felt more like home than Admetos had. Her joints still ached from the large planet’s crushing gravity. Thank God she had been transferred.
The rings were only the third thing she noticed. They arched across the southern sky like some kind of odd cloud formation, pale but still visible in the daylight.
Sam saw the direction of her gaze. “Wait until you see them at sunset.”
Toni nodded, smiling. “I wanted to say I can imagine, but I’m not sure I can.”
Irving Moshofski, the xenoteam geologist, stepped forward to introduce himself and shook Toni’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Donato. Gates and Repnik are waiting for us in town.”
They followed Moshofski to their ground transportation, an open carriage drawn by descendants of Terran horses, but taller and with lighter bone structure. This pair was a reddish-brown much deeper than the bays of Earth.
Toni took another deep breath of the air. “I swear, if they hadn’t already named it Christmas for the colors, they would have changed the name to Christmas when they smelled the place.”
“Everyone familiar with Terran Western culture says that,” Moshofski said.
She climbed up into the open carriage behind Ainsworth and noted that it was well sprung, the workmanship of the wood smooth, and the leather seats soft. Their driver was a young Mejan man, tall and willowy, his skin a lovely copper color. As they settled into their seats, Toni greeted him in Alnar ag Ledar, “the language of the sea”—the universal language used by men and women on Christmas to communicate with each other.
Their driver lifted the back of his hand to his forehead in the Mejan gesture of greeting. “Sha bo sham, tajan.”
She returned the gesture and turned to Ainsworth, suppressing a chuckle. “Why did he call me ‘mother’?”
“That seems to be a term of respect for women here.”
“At least that’s something. But it looks like I still have a lot to learn.”
Ainsworth nodded. “We all do. We strongly suspect the Mejan are withholding information from us. They’re very reluctant to begin any kind of treaty negotiations with the Allied Interstellar Community.”
“They don’t trust us,” Moshofski said.
Toni shrugged. “Is there any reason why they should?”
She le
aned forward to address the driver, speaking rapidly in the men’s language. “Moden varga esh zhamkaned med sherned?” Do you trust the men from the sky?
The driver looked over his shoulder at her and chuckled. “Roga desh varga an zhamnozhed, tajan.” Like I trust the stars. Toni noticed that the laughing eyes in his copper-brown face were an extraordinary smoky green color.
She raised one eyebrow. “Moshulan sham beli?” Not to fall on you?
He laughed out loud, and Toni leaned back in her seat, grinning.
The landing base was about ten kilometers outside of the biggest town, Edaru, and she studied the landscape avidly during the trip. She loved the sights and scents and sounds of strange worlds, the rhythms of a new language, the shape and color of plants she had never seen before. For someone from Earth, the red hues of the landscape on Christmas might have conjured associations of barrenness, although the rich shades from magenta to burnt umber were from the native vegetation itself, the wide, strangely-shaped leaves of the low-growing plants and the fronds of the trees. But it never would have occurred to Toni to associate reds and umbers with barrenness. For someone from Neubrandenburg on Mars, red was the color of homesickness.
Toni didn’t notice Edaru until they were practically upon it. They came over a rise and suddenly the city, crowded around a large bay, was spread out before them. The buildings were low and close to the water. Despite occasional flooding, the Mejan were happiest as close to the sea as possible.
At the sight of their vehicle, people came out of their houses, standing in doorways or leaning on windowsills to watch them pass. A number lifted the backs of their hands to their foreheads in the Mejan gesture of greeting.
Christmas was one of the half-dozen seeded planets in the known universe, and as on other such planets, the human population had made some physical adjustments for life in the given environment, most obviously in their height and the prominent flaps of skin between their fingers. But to Toni, who had spent two years now on Admetos among what the human members of AIRA often referred to as the giant ants, they didn’t appear alien at all, or at least only pleasantly so. The people she saw were tall, light-boned, dark-skinned and wide-chested, with long hair in various hues which they wore interlaced with thin braids enhanced by colorful yarn. She was surprised at how little difference there was in the styles worn by the men and the women—not what she would have expected from a world where the women spoke a separate, “secret” language.
Ships and boats of various sizes were docked at the wharves, and one large ship was sailing into port as they arrived. The materials sent to her had described them as primitive craft, but she found them graceful and beautiful. The long, low stone houses had rows of windows facing the sea and were ornamented with patterns of circles and waves in shades of red and purple and green and blue on a background of yellow. Some larger houses were built in a u-shape around a central courtyard. Toni stared and smiled and waved. It looked clean and peaceful, the children content and the women walking alone with their heads held high.
The common house—the main government building of Edaru—was located in the center of town near the wharves. Councilor Lanrhel himself waited for them, the back of his hand touching his forehead in greeting. She couldn’t help thinking it looked like he was shading his eyes to see them better.
Lanrhel was a handsome man, even taller than the average Mejan, with streaks of gray in his reddish-brown hair, the gray looking almost like an extra shade in the colors of his braids. The pale, tooled leather of his short cape, the garment worn in the warm half of the year, was the same length as his tunic, reaching just past the tops of his thighs. He stood in the doorway, his open palm in front of his forehead, and Toni returned the gesture as she approached the building. When Lanrhel didn’t relax, she glanced at Sam and Ainsworth, unsure what to do. Perhaps she had not made the gesture correctly. She repeated it and said in the best local dialect she could manage, “Negi eden an elamed elu mazhu velazh Edaru. An rushen eden sham.” Which meant something like I’m honored to be a guest in Edaru, thank you. Except that the language of the Mejan had no verb for “to be” and tenses were expressed in auxiliary verbs which could go either before or after the main verb, depending on the emphasis.
The councilor smiled widely and lowered his arm, and Toni winced, realizing she had used the male first person pronoun. Her first official sentence on Christmas, and it was wrong. She was glad Repnik wasn’t there. Sam and Ainsworth didn’t seem to notice that she’d made a mistake, but when she glanced back at the driver with the smoky green eyes, she saw that he too had a grin on his wide lips.
“We are happy to have you visit our city,” Lanrhel said and led them into the common house. They crossed a central hallway and entered a large room where about a dozen people were seated in a circle in comfortable chairs and sofas. Low tables were scattered in the center, and on them stood strange-looking fruits in glossy bowls made of the shells of large, native beetles. Decorative lace hangings graced the walls.
Lanrhel announced them, and the others rose. Toni was surprised to see almost as many women as men, all garbed in soft, finely tooled leather of different colors. Leather was the material of choice of the Mejan, and their tanning methods were highly advanced. Sam had speculated it was because they lived so much with water, and leather was more water-resistant than woven materials.
She recognized Repnik immediately. She knew his face from photos and vids and holos. He was thin and wiry, with deep wrinkles next to his mouth and lining his forehead. Despite age treatments, the famous linguist looked old, used-up even, more so than the images she’d seen had led her to believe. He was also shorter than she expected, barely topping her eyebrows.
He came forward slowly to shake her hand. “Ms. Donato?” he said, omitting her title.
Two could play that game. “Mr. Repnik. I’m honored to be able to work with you.”
His eyes narrowed briefly. “It really is unfortunate that you were called to Christmas unnecessarily. I’m sure you will soon see that there is little contribution for you to make here. Despite the sex barrier, I’ve managed to collect enough material on my own to be able to study and analyze the women’s dialect.”
Sam had warned her on ship, but Repnik’s unwelcoming attitude still stung. She did her best not to let it show, keeping her voice level. “A dialect? But it was my understanding that Alnar ag Eshmaled couldn’t be understood by the men.”
“Ms. Donato, surely you are aware that speakers of different dialects often cannot understand each other.”
She bit her lip. If she was going to have a hand in deciphering the women’s language, she had to get along with him. Instead of arguing, she shrugged and gave Repnik a forced smile. “Well, as they say, a language is a dialect with an army and a navy. And that’s not what we have here, is it?”
Repnik gave her a pleased nod. “Precisely.”
Jackson Gates, the team exobiologist, moved between them and introduced himself, earning Toni’s gratitude. He was a soft-spoken, dark-skinned man with graying hair and beard, obviously the type who cared little about cosmetic age treatments. She judged his age at barely over fifty.
Lanrhel then introduced her to the other members of the Edaru council. The oldest woman, Anash, came forward and presented Toni with a strip of decorative lace, similar to the beautiful hangings on the walls. Toni lifted the back of her hand to her forehead again and thanked her.
The multitude of introductions completed, they sat down on the leather-covered chairs and couches, and Ainsworth asked in barely passable Mejan if anything had been decided regarding treaty negotiations with AIC. Lanrhel looked at Toni, and she repeated the request, adding the correct inclinations and stripping it of the captain’s Anglicized word order. Why hadn’t the councilor referred to Repnik? She’d been studying like a fiend for the last month, but surely his command of the language was better than hers.
Lanrhel leaned across the arm of his chair and murmured something to Anash.
Toni caught mention of the treaty again, and the words for language, house, and her own name. Anash looked across the circle at her and smiled. She returned the smile, despite the headache she could feel coming on. The first day on a new planet was always difficult, and this time she’d had conflict brewing with her boss even before she got off the shuttle. But next to Anash, another woman had pulled out her crocheting (a far cry from the stiff formality of the official functions she’d had to endure on Admetos), a man with eyes the color of the sea on Christmas had joked with her, and she still had a sunset to look forward to.
And no one was going to toss her into the ocean just yet. She hoped.
5
From: Preliminary Report on Alnar ag Ledar, primary language of Christmas. Compiled 29.09.157 (local AIC date) by Prof. Dr. Hartmut Repnik, h.c. Thaumos, Hino, Marat, and Polong, Allied Interstellar Research Association first contact team xenolinguist, Commander, Allied Interstellar Community Forces.
The language of the Mejan people of Christmas is purely oral with both inflecting and agglutinating characteristics. Tense information seems to be given exclusively in an inflected auxiliary which takes the place of helping verbs and modals while also providing information on the addressee of the sentence. Nouns are gendered, masculine and feminine, but with some interesting anomalies compared to known languages. Adjectives are non-existent. The descriptive function is fulfilled by verbs (e.g. jeraz, “the state of being green”).
6
The arc of the rings lit up like lacework in the last rays of the setting sun, while the sky behind it showed through purple and orange and pink. Toni took a deep breath and blinked away the tears that had started in her eyes at the shock of beauty. Beside her, Sam was silent, too wise to disturb her enjoyment of the moment.
They were sitting on the veranda of the house AIRA had rented for her and any other women from the ship who had occasion to come plan-etside. Together they watched as the colors faded and the sky grew dark. The small moons accompanying the rings appeared, while the brilliant lace became a dark band, starting in the east and spreading up and over.
