The Color of Distance (24 page)

Anito and Ukatonen returned with full gathering bags.

“How are you feeling today?” Anito asked, setting down her bags and squatting to examine Juna.

“I hurt. Did I win?”

A gentle ripple of amusement crossed the alien’s skin. “Yes, by three hand-spans of length. You dug twice as much as they did, but they only measured length.”

“What do the villagers think?”

“They wonder why you work so hard. None of them would do such a thing to win a race. You nearly died last night.”

Ukatonen touched Juna’s arm. “Anito almost made herself sick trying to heal you.”

Juna looked at Anito in surprise. “I didn’t know you get sick from healing. I am sorry. Please forgive my ignorance.”

Anito turned magenta in puzzlement and surprise. “You not know?”

“My people not link. How I understand linking? I not do before.”

“One elder died saving your life,” Anito told her. “My sitik, Ilto, got sick from saving your life.”

Juna looked from Anito to Ukatonen and back, shocked at how much her life had cost these people. She remembered how thin and frail Ilto had been. She had been responsible for his illness, and the death of another elder. Yet the villagers had treated her with kindness. Anito had saved her life several times.

“Why?” she asked, fighting back tears of shame and regret. “Why are you so good to me after all the trouble that I have caused?”

Anito laid a gentle hand on her arm. “You were new, different. My sitik knew that saving you could kill him. It was time for him to die. He chose to save you even though it made him sick. He wanted to do a big thing before he died. Understand?”

“Not all, but I understand some. Are you angry with me?” Juna asked.

“I was,” Anito said, then looked away, suddenly dark grey, as sadness washed over her.

Juna touched Anito on the arm. The alien looked at her. “I understand. If it was me, I be angry too. Please tell me how I can make all this better?”

Anito shook her head. “You didn’t understand then. Is done. I not angry now.”

“I understand now. I not forget,” Juna replied. “Thank you.”

Ukatonen touched her arm and handed her a large red jellyfruit. “You need to eat now,” he said.

Juna tore a hole in the peel and sucked out the soft jellylike interior, straining the seeds out with her teeth. Juice rolled down her chin. She sucked the last of the sweetness from the seeds, and licked the inside of the inedible peel. With a ripple of amusement, Ukatonen tossed her another.

“You eat. You work too hard yesterday,” Anito said, handing her a leafy cone containing small pieces of raw meat mixed with some sort of gluey mush. Despite its daunting texture, it was delicious. They gave her a basket full of leathery brown globes, about three centimeters across. Eggs. Ukatonen picked one up, slit it open with a deft claw, and sucked out the contents, then handed an egg to Juna.

“Lalito brought these for you,” Ukatonen told her. “They’ll make you well more quickly. She«aid that you don’t have to work today.”

“Good,” Juna said, lavender with relief.

Juna regarded the raw egg in her hand. She couldn’t refuse to eat it, not without offending Lalito. She nipped a hole in the egg and sucked out its contents. There was a disturbing solidity to the yolk. Her teeth closed on something that crunched like gristle, and there was the sudden taste of blood in her mouth as she swallowed. There had been an embryo inside the egg, she realized, repressing the urge to gag.

Her revulsion must have appeared on her skin, because Anito leaned forward, skin ochre with concern. “Are you all right?”

Juna nodded. “We don’t—” She paused, searching for the right word. “We don’t eat eggs with young inside.”

Anito’s ears spread wide. “You don’t? That’s the best kind!”

“How you find eggs so new?” Ukatonen wanted to know.

“We don’t find them. We grow them,” she said, using a verb form for “grow” that applied to raising plants. She didn’t know if the aliens had any terms for raising food animals.

Ukatonen looked puzzled. “I don’t understand. Eggs are not from plants.”

“Eggs from birds,” Juna agreed. “We grow birds. Gather eggs.”

“How grow birds?” Anito asked.

Juna remembered the chicken farm on the satellite, the thick-legged birds, awkward and slow in the heavy gravity that they were kept in to make the shells thicker, the muscles meatier. Each bird in its own wire cage, looking ugly and vulnerable in the harsh glare of the sun tubes. She had gone there once, as part of a school trip. She had had nightmares about those chickens for almost a month afterward.

How could she explain the chicken farm to these aliens? Did they even understand the concept of a cage?

“It’s like narey. You grow narey in pool. We grow birds in boxes. You feed narey, we feed birds. You eat narey, we eat birds, and birds’ eggs. Understand?”

“How birds breathe in box?” Ukatonen wanted to know. “Air get bad.”

“We put holes in box. Box is open like this,” Juna explained, holding up a gathering bag and sticking her fingers through the mesh and wriggling them.

“Why you not hunt birds?” Anito.

“Growing them is easier than hunting,” Juna replied. “My people not have time to hunt.”

The ears of both aliens spread wide and they turned a deep, incredulous purple. They looked completely and suddenly absurd, like a matched pair of toy monsters. Juna fought back a smile and a ripple of amusement. It wouldn’t do to laugh at them.

“What your people do? Why not hunt?”

“We make things. Learn things,” she replied. “We play.”

She remembered a moment shared with Padraig, laughing at some joke, their eyes meeting in understanding and delight. She looked away, fighting back a sudden surge of loneliness.
Oh God,
she realized, Jive years
without another human being…

A
gentle hand touched her shoulder. Juna looked into Anito’s alien eyes. The Tendu was concerned about her. She fought back another rush of tears.

“I miss my people,” Juna said.

“I understand. It’s a long time since I see Narmolom. I miss my people also.”

Ukatonen touched her shoulder. “We not talk about your people anymore today. You rest. You eat. We go back to Narmolom soon.”

To Anito’s relief, their remaining time at Lyanan passed quickly and without incident. Some Tendu from the surrounding villages had come to watch the race, and they stayed to help finish preparing and planting the last bits of the burnt-over area.

The villagers’ manner toward Eerin had changed after the race. The cultivator had impressed them, even though her dogged persistence to win had not. Contempt and anger had changed to curiosity. They watched her, ears wide, flickering comments among themselves. Ini and Ehna congratulated her on winning. After that, some of the boldest bami came up and began to ask her questions.

Eerin spent her free time sitting with the bami, showing them her talking stone and learning new words. The elders watched in fascination, but hung back from the new creature, afraid of losing face.

Indeed, the last few days in Lyanan were so pleasant that Anito was almost sorry when it came time for the farewell banquet. Despite the devastation of its land, the village of Lyanan was able to produce a very creditable feast. There was a great deal of fresh ocean fish, honey, fruit, and a variety of pickled greens and fruit served over sprouting namman seeds, as well as bibbi and kiltani greens. There were several fruits that Anito had never seen before. Lalito made her a present of the seeds, to take back to Narmolom, with instructions on how to grow them.

Once the banquet was over, there was a long round of speeches. Lalito praised Ukatonen and Anito. She even had a few kind words for Eerin. Then other elders got up and made similarly complimentary speeches. Arato and Sarito were the only elders who had anything to say about Eerin, praising her strength and hard work. The eldest of the bami got up and presented finely woven carrying baskets to Anito and Ukatonen. Anito flushed a nostalgic blue-grey, remembering all the times that she had done this for guests visiting Narmolom.

From the elders Anito received a thick sheaf of yarram, a finely woven net, two large sealed gourds full of sea salt, and several smaller gourds containing salt-pickled fruit. Ukatonen received several new blowgun reeds, neatly coiled inside a large bamboo container, another container full of blowgun darts tipped with bird down, and a gourd of neatly packaged seeds, the product, Anito was sure, of the village’s finest trees.

Even Eerin received some gifts. Ini and Ehna gave her a large gathering bag, Arato gave her a small gourd of sea salt. Sarito came forward with a small hunting net. Then a tinka slipped out from the crowd, handed Eerin a coil of rope, and vanished before Anito could prevent Eerin from accepting it. It was a courting gift, something made by the tinka. By accepting it, Eerin had signaled her willingness to be courted by the tinka who had given it to her.

Irritation forked down Anito’s back. She would have to speak to Eerin about taking gifts from tinka. She should have done it sooner, but she was only now beginning to realize how dangerous Eerin’s ignorance could be. It was good that they were leaving tomorrow. She doubted that the tinka would leave the safety of the village and follow them through the jungle. A ripple of turquoise joy passed over her. Tomorrow they would be going home!

Juna followed Anito and Ukatonen through the trees, her heart light with relief. Her first term of service at Lyanan was over, and she had managed to improve her standing in the eyes of the villagers. Her next visit would be easier. In spite of her difficulties, she was glad to have helped restore the forest.

Around mid-morning, they stopped to rest in a heavily loaded fruit tree. Juna helped them fill a gathering bag, and then they settled themselves against the trunk for a snack. This was another fruit new to Juna. It was long and green, with a thick inedible rind. Inside, the fruit was soft and mushy and tasted like chocolate-covered bananas with a hint of lemon.

The aliens had a dizzying variety of different food plants. She ate some new species of fruit or green at almost every meal. Given the diversity of the rain forest, it made sense. It also made for some interesting meals. Juna leaned forward to ask Anito what they called this new fruit, but to her surprise, the alien bounded past her into a thick clump of branches.

There was a brief flurry, and a loud squalling noise, like two cats fighting. Then Anito emerged from the clump of vegetation with a struggling tinka. Once it realized that it was caught, the tinka stopped fighting and followed Anito meekly over to where Ukatonen and Juna were sitting. As it approached Juna it reached into its gathering bag and pulled out a tightly rolled up net. It started to hand the net to Juna, but Anito grabbed the tinka’s arm and pulled it away from Juna’s outstretched hand.

“No!” Anito told it, bright red with anger. Anito launched into a long angry tirade to the tinka, but she spoke so quickly that Juna couldn’t follow what she was saying. She seemed to be telling the tinka that it shouldn’t do something, but Juna couldn’t understand what. Then Anito gestured in the direction of Lyanan and ordered it to return. The tinka turned and looked pleadingly at Juna. Clearly it wanted something from her.

“Wait,” Juna said. “What does it want?”

“It wants to be your bami. This cannot be,” Ukatonen told her.

Juna looked at the tinka, amazed.
Bami
was the term used by elders for their apprentices. Her theory that the tinka were a related species was wrong. And now this tinka wanted her to adopt it. It was clearly impossible.

“No,” Juna told the tinka. “You cannot be my bami. Go back to Lyanan. I’m sorry.”

The tinka’s ears widened at her apology, but then Anito once again ordered the tinka to go, in bright, angry tones. The tinka stuffed the net into its gathering bag, and with a last backward look at Juna, it set off toward Lyanan.

“What will happen to it?” Juna asked Anito when the tinka had vanished into the trees.

“It will go back to the village. Unless someone takes it as one of their bami, it will die.” Seeing Juna color in alarm, Anito added, “Not soon. In a few years. This is what happens to tinka.”

“Will someone accept it for their bami?” Juna asked, wishing her language skills were better.

“Probably not. The elders of Lyanan aren’t going to be able to have any new bami for many years. It followed you because it knows this and is desperate. Younger tinka may try to win a place in another village. I think that one is too old to do that.”

Juna looked after the tinka. Guilt knifed through her. “So the tinka will die?” she asked sadly.

Ukatonen touched her shoulder. “Most tinka do not become bami. If all tinka were made bami, then there would be no room for anything else. The jungle would be eaten bare. Only the best tinka become bami. Understand?”

Juna nodded, flickering acknowledgment.

“Good,” said Ukatonen. “Now finish eating. We must travel far today.”

Juna finished the last of her fruit, no longer caring what the Tendu called it. Her ebullient mood was gone. She was alone on a planet full of aliens who let their children die if they weren’t good enough.

It was wrong to judge the Tendu like this, she told herself as they traveled through the jungle. Still, it seemed deeply wrong to her that the aliens would let their children die. Surely there was another way? Could the Survey help them? She shook her head, trying to drive the thought out of her mind. It was against Survey regulations to interfere with an alien culture.

Still, she was pleased when, at lunch, Ukatonen discovered that the tinka was still following them. Ukatonen ordered the young alien off, chasing it through several trees to make sure that it was on its way. Anito and Ukatonen joked with each other about the tinka’s determination. Juna looked away, angered that they could joke about what was a matter of life or death to the tinka.