The Color of Distance (53 page)

“Thank you, Dr. Bremen,” he said. “I’m Dr. Paul Wu, head of the Alien Contact team, and this is the rest of the preliminary debriefing team.”

“I’m honored to meet you, Dr. Wu,” Juna said. “I’ve heard so much about your work with the Sawakirans.” She reached out to shake his hand, then remembered that her hands were covered in plastic bags, and stopped.

He smiled and bowed, a gesture that should have seemed archaic and stilted but was, instead, both formal and warm.

“And I am honored to meet you, Dr. Saari. We were intending to meet you with a full debriefing team, but Dr. Bremen found you instead.”

Juna nodded. “Thank you, Dr. Wu. It’s good to be back.”

He turned to introduce her to the rest of the debriefing team. Her eyes widened as she recognized Antonio Miyata. He had been her research ;ctor on her first Survey mission, and had taken an active interest in career.

“’Tonio! It’s good to see you!” Juna said, putting her hands on his HM1S. “How long has it been? Six years? Seven?”

“Seven,” he confirmed. “A long time. I saw your log. It was impressive.”

Juna smiled. “I had a good teacher.” Tonio had taken her in hand[[ ,-n]] her first mission, and taught her most of what she knew about field research.

“Thank you,” he said. “You were a good student. I want to hear all about your time here, when you have the chance.”

“Sure, Tonio, that would be great,” she replied.

“The debriefing team will meet with you at 1700 ship time. That’s about four hours from now,” Wu said, seeing Juna’s look of confusion. She hadn’t noticed what time it was. “Before we begin the debriefing though, we need to give you a thorough physical.”

He left her in the care of the medics, who escorted her to quarantine. They sent her through the airlock into her new quarters with a urine cup and instructions to provide them with a specimen.

She looked around her new room. It was a hospital room, clean and sterile with hard, easy-to-disinfect surfaces. There was a tiny, economical bathroom with a shower. She sighed regretfully. A tub bath would have to wait.

Juna put on the hospital gown that had been laid out for her. She pulled the top sheet back on the bed, and ran her hand over the clean linens. A real bed. Going to sleep tonight would be something to savor. Then she picked up the urine cup and headed for the bathroom. She dutifully peed in the cup, and then flushed the toilet for the sheer pleasure of hearing working plumbing.

When she emerged from the bathroom the doctors were waiting for her. They took the urine specimen from her with a nod of approval.

“Are these the
allu
that you wrote so much about?” one doctor asked, probing the spur on her forearm. Juna winced and pulled away.

“Yes it is, Doctor, but please be careful, they’re very sensitive.”

“Could you show us some of its functions?” the doctor asked.

“All right,” she said.

She picked up a scalpel from the tray of medical implements and made a long cut on the back of her arm.

The doctors and nurses gasped in astonishment and moved towarc her.

“Wait!” she commanded, holding out her wounded arm. She focuses her attention on the wound. The blood trickling down her arm and dripping to the floor slowed, then stopped. One of the doctors grabbed a petr. dish and collected some of the blood as it fell. Juna held the edges of the cut together, and felt the skin knit.

“Doctor, would you please wash away the blood on my arm?”

He did so. All that was left of the cut was a pale line on her arm. The doctors crowded around to look at the healed cut.

“I’ve read everything*you’ve written about those spurs,” one of therr. remarked, “but it’s different, seeing it actually work.”

After examining the healed cut, the doctors gave her a painfully thorough medical examination. They took samples of everything: blood, skir. feces, saliva, vaginal fluids, bone marrow, and biopsies of her human/alier skin interface from several places in and on her body. It was grueling anc humiliating, and the energy it took to repair the damage they did drainec her further.

Juna’s stomach growled. She was hungry and it was getting late. “Are there any more tests you need to perform? Dr. Bremen promised me a hot meal and a hot shower. I haven’t had either one for a long time. Besides healing that cut took a lot of energy. I need food to replace it.”

“We’ll do the rest of the tests later,” they told her.

“Thank you,” Juna said, turning lavender with relief.

One of the doctors picked up the phone and called out.

“I’ve told the kitchen you’re ready for your meal,” he said as he hung up. “The chef says that your dinner will be delivered in half an hour.”

“How soon till the quarantine is lifted?” Juna asked.

“That will depend on the results of our tests. Soon, I hope.”

The doctors gathered up their samples and instruments, and filed out. leaving her alone. She felt isolated and out of place in this sterile, empty room. The Tendu suddenly seemed very far away.

“Well,” she said to the empty room. “Well.”

There was a scratching sound off in one corner. It was a white mouse in a small cage. As she watched, it climbed onto its exercise wheel. The wheel turned, creaking faintly. Juna smiled. She was not entirely alone.

She lightly touched the bars of the cage and murmured reassuringly at the mouse. She hoped it would survive being in quarantine with her. It was here to test whether or not her presence would kill it.

She took a long, glorious shower, as hot as she could stand it. Unfortunately, the soap stung her sensitive alien skin, so she settled for a good hard scrub with a washcloth. After toweling off, she slipped into a clean, dry uniform. It was good to be back, she thought, smiling contentedly. Now all she needed was a solid meal under her belt and she’d be ready for anything.

As if in reply to her wish, the door buzzer sounded. When the status light on the door turned green, she opened it. Inside the airlock was a cart with a covered tray. She wheeled the cart into the room, set the tray on her table, sat down, and removed the cover.

The meal was beautifully presented on spotless linens and fine china: a fillet of salmon, steaming hot with a light covering of dill cream sauce, accompanied by fresh orange chanterelle mushrooms, pickled baby carrots, and spinach, served Nippon style, compressed into tight rolls and then sliced. All her favorites. Her eyes misted over.

The salmon was perfectly done. Juna closed her eyes, savoring its subtle aroma. Then she reached for the half-bottle of wine, cradled in a napkin to keep it from rolling off the tray. As she undid the napkin, a note fell out. She picked it up.

“Welcome back,” it read. “I couldn’t miss this trip, so I signed on as cook. Stop by the galley when you get a chance. I have news of your family. Alison.”

Tears stung Juna’s eyes, blurring the familiar handwriting. Alison was here. She was responsible for bringing her father’s wine aboard.

She picked up the chardonnay and read the familiar label. Looking at it, she felt her father’s rough hands on hers, showing her how and where to prune the vines, his patient voice lecturing her on the growth habits of grapes.

She opened the bottle and poured her father’s wine. It tasted as clean and sharp as she remembered it, but there were a host of more subtle notes that she’d never noticed before. She took another sip, remembering the vineyard stretching out away from their tiny, formally landscaped yard. Not an inch of growing space was wasted. Even the porch posts supported wine grapes. She pictured her father, sitting in his favorite cane-bottomed rocking chair, white-haired, skin reddened and seamed from decades of working in the sun. He was nearly ninety now, getting old enough for her to worry about the possibility of his dying before she saw him again. She hoped Alison had good news.

Her stomach growled. She blinked back tears with a laugh. Her magnificent dinner was getting cold. She picked up her fork and started eating.

When she finished, she wheeled the cart over to the door and pushed it into the airlock, activating the inorganic disinfect cycle. She had another fifteen minutes to kill before her debriefing.

She went over and looked at the mouse in its cage. It stared at h-; She held out her fingers. The mouse sniffed at them curiously for a m. ment, then went back to eating a sunflower seed. It looked healthy ar active, a good sign. Usually test animals died within a few hours of exp sure. If it survived till tomorrow, she would try to see if it would let h-. pick it up.

The phone on the wall chimed politely. Juna picked it up with a smile She hadn’t spoken over the phone to anyone for years. “Hello?”

“Dr. Saari? This is D Wu. I was wondering if you were ready for the debriefing.”

“As soon as I climb into my suit, sir.”

“Good. I’ll come by in about ten minutes to escort you.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll be ready.”

Juna put on her suit and went through the decontamination procedures. Then she tried to get the airlock to cycle and let her out, but it wouldn’t respond to her commands. Just as she was starting to panic, the fans switched on and the lock began cycling. Wu was waiting outside for her.

“I’m sorry if I kept you waiting, Dr. Wu. I couldn’t get the airlock to cycle. I’ll have to notify the medical staff and let them know it isn’t working properly.”

“You’re in quarantine, Dr. Saari. I’m afraid that the airlock won’t open for you.”

“Oh,” Juna said. She looked down, embarrassed. In her excitement at being back among her own people, she had forgotten the Survey’s quarantine procedures. “How soon will I be let out of quarantine?”

“I’m afraid that it may be some time. We need to prove conclusively that you are not a danger to others.”

“I see.” She swallowed, her throat suddenly tight. It was a reasonable precaution. She understood the need for the restrictions, but it hurt to have them enforced after all she had been through.

“If I’m going to do my job, I’ll need access to the rest of the ship,” Juna pointed out.

“Please, Dr. Saari, let us discuss this at the debriefing. Perhaps the others will be able to work out some kind of compromise.”

“Very well, Dr. Wu.”

The meeting was held in a standard conference room, spartan and functional, with a wide table of plasteel. Most of the department heads were already seated. Juna recognized Morale Officer Mei Mei Chang, sit ting near the head of the table, and her heart sank. Chang stood and extended her hand to Juna.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Saari. Do you remember me?”

“Of course I remember you, Officer Chang. It’s a pleasure to see you again,” Juna lied smoothly, as she reached out to shake Chang’s hand.

“Welcome back to the Survey, Dr. Saari,” Chang said.

Juna looked around the table. She recognized Bremen, Miyata, Wu, and Dr. Baker, the head of the medical team that had examined her. The rest were still strangers to her. The captain of the ship was present too, a thin woman with short salt-and-pepper hair dressed in the black and silver uniform of the Space Service.

When the last chair was filled, Wu stood. “Thank you all for coming. We’re here to begin your debriefing, Dr. Saari. Before we get started, I’d like to introduce you to some of the people you haven’t met yet: Captain Edison.” The captain inclined her head. “Dr. Agelou, head of psychology.” A thin, nervous-looking man with a small fussy goatee nodded to her. “Dr. Holmes, who is in charge of biochemistry; Dr. Tanguay, who is in charge of alien linguistics, and Dr. Nazarieff, in charge of resource management.”

“Thank you, Dr. Wu.” Juna smiled at the team members. “I’m afraid it will take me a little while to learn all of your names. Please be patient with me.”

“Welcome back, Dr. Saari,” Wu said formally. “On behalf of all of us, I want to apologize for the circumstances that led to your being left behind. I also want to thank you for the copious and detailed log of your sojourn among the Tendu. We spent three months in orbit cataloguing, cross-referencing, and studying it. Everyone is full of questions about your observations, but the first item on our agenda is to discuss the Survey’s negotiating position and to determine your role in those negotiations.”

“I had expected to act as a negotiator and translator,” Juna said.

“You don’t have any formal training or experience in diplomatic negotiation,” Bremen pointed out.

“No, but I’ve worked with Anitonen and Ninto as they studied to become enkar. I’ve gone through negotiations with the people of Lyanan and Narmolom. I understand the Tendu better than any other human. They know me and trust me. It would be foolish to throw away that kind of advantage.”

“Yes, it would,” Wu agreed. “And we’re not planning to do so. However, we need to work out some kind of framework that utilizes the diplomatic training of our Alien Contact people as well as your irreplaceable on-the-ground experience. We want to avoid violating the Contact Protocols any further.”

“I see,” Juna said, relieved by Wu’s reassurances.

“We have revised the protocols, based on the information in your log. However, there are several situations whose implications must be considered. There is your adopted child, Moki. What will happen to him after you leave? Will your relationship with him affect the negotiations? Then there is the physical linking known as allu-a. How has that affected your psychology? How will that affect your ability to negotiate? Dr. Agelou wants to perform an in-depth psychological evaluation to determine this. And then there are the countless other violations, committed while you were trying to survive in that difficult and challenging environment. How have they affected the Tendu? All of these questions must be considered.”

“Ukatonen has agreed to adopt Moki,” Juna said, “but we are very worried that Moki will not accept him as his sitik.” She sighed, a flicker of ochre concern crossing her skin. “I have been encouraging him to spend more time with Ukatonen, to ease the shock of my departure, but you arrived earlier than I expected. As it stands now, only time will tell whether Moki accepts Ukatonen as his sitik. If Moki rejects Ukatonen, then Ukatonen will commit suicide. It is what an enkar must do if he makes an unwise judgment.” She looked down at the plasteel table, remembering Ilto’s crushed body lying on the floor of the forest.