The Color of Distance Read online

  Ani watched as Ilto studied the minute details of the new animal’s bizarre physiology. A full day passed before he began changing the new creature. First Ilto altered its body processes so they would not react so strongly to foreign substances. That was easy to do. Next, he improved its sight and hearing, so that it could see better in the dark, and hear nearly as well as a Tendu. Then he puzzled out how to make its toes grow long enough to be useful without causing the rest of its bones to change. That was hard, but it gave him the knowledge he needed to create a skin that adequately protected it from the hazards of the forest.

  The skin was the most difficult part. It had to shield the creature from all of the things its own body could not, yet still be able to co-exist with, and draw nourishment from, the body it covered. When complete, the skin would extend through its digestive tract and down into its lungs, protecting it from foods that might make it sick and the unseen proteins in the air that had nearly killed the animal before they found it.

  Ilto made its skin capable of showing emotion. Ani doubted the creature was intelligent enough to make use of such a gift, but she decided not to share her doubts with Ilto. She was even more dubious about his decision to give it the same protective stinging stripes as the Tendu, but Ani couldn’t bring herself to say anything. Ilto was happier than she had ever seen him, alive with the joy of a challenging task. The bright, sweet tang of his joy filled her allu as she monitored him. The elders spoke of him in shades of awe and admiration. It was like watching a legend come to life.

  Ilto emerged from communion in the middle of the fourth night. He was so weak that Ani had to help him into bed. He let some of the elders give him strength, ate a little kayu mush and yarram, and fell into a deep, healing sleep. Ani piled the leafy bedding over him to keep him warm and moist. She made sure the new creature was all right, then burrowed into her own bed and fell asleep.

  Ilto woke Ani late the next day, eager to resume working with the animal. Ani managed to make him wait until she had fed him a big meal. She wanted him to rest another day, but he was determined to continue.

  Ilto’s frenetic pace was wearing him down. Despite the enormous and frequent meals Ani forced him to eat, and the nutrients that she poured into his body through her allu, the flesh was melting off Ilto’s bones.

  The strange taint in his blood grew stronger as well, but Ilto was too obsessed by the new creature to stop and heal himself. He refused to allow Ani to try to clear it out of his blood. Concerned, she turned to Ninto, the one elder who knew Ilto better than she did.

  “He’s pushing himself too hard,” Ani told Ninto, “but he won’t rest.”

  “He’s as stubborn as an old kular,” the tall, slender elder agreed.

  Blue and green amusement flowed over Ani. She had no trouble seeing Ilto as a spiny, irascible anteater.

  “There’s no arguing with him when he’s like this,” cautioned Ninto. “He was like this when I was his bami. I don’t think I remember him ever changing his mind, not in all the years I’ve known him. Once he makes up his mind to do something there’s no arguing him out of it.”

  Ani suppressed a brown flush of embarrassment at Ninto’s glancing mention of her relationship with Ilto. Most elders raised only one bami, and once it was ready, its sitik either died or left the village. But an elder had died without a bami to succeed him. The village chief chose Ilto’s bami, Ni-ne, to fill the’dead elder’s place. Ni-ne became the elder Ninto. Ten years later, Ilto selected Ani as his second bami. That made Ninto her tareena.

  Ani had been with Ilto for many years. Trees they had planted during their first year together now spread their leaves in the sunshine at the top of the jungle’s canopy. But Ninto had been there before her. She knew Ilto as both sitik and fellow elder. Ani and Ninto were the only tareena in the village. It was an unusual relationship, and it set Ani apart from the other bami.

  Ninto brushed Ani’s shoulder affectionately, and set aside the gathering bag she was weaving. “I’ll see what I can do,” she reassured her.

  Ilto was linked with the new creature when they came in. Ninto joined the link and gently pulled Ilto out of allu-a.

  Ilto turned brilliant yellow with irritation. “Can’t you see I’m too busy to be interrupted!” he flared at Ninto. “I thought I trained you better than that!” He launched into a long tirade about manners, lecturing Ninto as though she were still a bami.

  To Ani’s surprise, Ninto listened politely. Only a tiny blue flicker of amusement running down Ninto’s back showed she paid absolutely no attention to Ilto’s scolding. Ani’s ears lifted, and she fought back her own amusement.

  “Kene,” Ninto said, when Ilto was done, “you are being selfish.”

  “In what way am I being selfish?” Ilto asked, his words stiff and formal in response to Ninto’s use of his title.

  “You are neglecting the future of our village by mistreating your bami.”

  Ani sat up, insulted. “He is not!” But her words went unnoticed. A cautionary pattern flared briefly on Ninto’s back, telling Ani to be still.

  “Look how thin and tired she is. You’re asking too much of her.” Ninto motioned to Ani, who came forward out of the shadows.

  Ilto linked with Ani. She could feel him probing her physical condition. Brown shame coursed over his skin as he broke the link.

  “You’re right,” he told Ninto. “I will put the creature into jeetho tomorrow.” Grey regret clouded his words.

  “Not tomorrow,” Ninto said. “Give Ani a day of rest before you work any more with the new animal. The creature’s stabilized. It can wait another day.”

  “But—” Ilto protested.

  Ani, realizing that by giving her a day of rest Ilto would also be resting, interrupted him with a touch on the shoulder. “Please, siti, I won’t be able to do it tomorrow. I’m too tired.” She turned a pale, sickly white, hating herself for the lie she was telling. “I’m sorry, siti.” That much, at least, was true.

  Ani glanced at Ninto’s back, and saw a faint ripple of approval.

  “Ani will rest tomorrow. We will put the creature into jeetho the day after tomorrow,” Ilto announced, never admitting he had changed his mind.

  Ani glanced over at Ninto, impressed with her skill at manipulating Ilto. She hoped someday she would be that clever. Ninto met her glance and flicked an ear at her.

  “Ilto is right,” Ninto said when Ani followed her out to thank her. “You are ready to become an elder. You handled that well.” A mist of regret clouded the colors of her words. “I’ll miss Ilto when he goes.”

  “I think Ilto will die rather than leave the village,” Ani said.

  “Does it matter?” Ninto asked. “Either way, he will be dead to us here.”

  Ani disagreed. She wanted to know Ilto was alive somewhere in the world, even if she never saw him again. She said nothing. Ninto was an elder, and one didn’t argue with elders.

  Ninto brushed her knuckles across Ani’s shoulder. “Thank you for letting me help.” She paused, and there was a flicker of color on her chest as though she was about to say something else. Instead she turned and climbed down the trunk.

  That afternoon, Ilto took Ani and a tinka to help gather food for the evening meal. Their hunting went well. They killed two plump, scaly mityak and an unwary young moodar, its feathers bright with courtship colors. The tinka found a rotting log full of grubs, and gathered a bag full of bardarr berries. They would eat well tonight. Before returning, they paused to lay out a paste made from yarram and mashed dindi roots as bait to attract mantu. Back at the village tree, they rewarded the tinka with a strip of dried yarram each and a share of the food they had gathered, and returned to their room.

  They ate steadily. Every time Ilto paused, Ani handed him some particularly choice delicacy. She wanted to be sure he ate as much as he possibly could before they started working again on the new creature. Ilto also pushed her to eat. At last, her stomach tight and bulging, Ani could eat no more. Ilto sent
her to bed. Exhausted, Ani burrowed into her warm, moist bed of leaves and fell asleep.

  Ninto woke her. The rank smell of sickness filled the room. Ninto’s skin was clouded with worry. Ani glanced over at Ilto. His breathing sounded ragged and reugh and his skin had the flat, silvery sheen of sickness.

  “He drugged you to keep you asleep, and then started working again on the new creature,” Ninto said. “A tinka found him. Since it couldn’t wake you, it got me. Ilto won’t let me help him. He keeps breaking the link.”

  Ani linked with Ilto. The alien taint in his blood was stronger than ever. She recognized it now. Some of the new creature’s cells had gotten into his body, and were attacking Ilto.

  “Can you do anything?” Ninto asked.

  Startled by the question, Ani looked at Ninto for a long moment before replying. If this was beyond Ninto’s skills, then it was probably beyond hers. She would try, though. She was willing to do anything for Ilto.

  “It will be deep work,” Ani said. She had never been monitored by anyone other than Ilto.

  “I’ll monitor you,” Ninto said, answering her undepicted request.

  Ani linked with Ninto and closed her eyes. Ninto’s presence in the link felt so much like Ilto’s. It reassured her as she reached in through the link to sample Ilto’s blood.

  With no warning at all, the link broke. Ninto eased Ani back into balance, then gently eased out of the link.

  Ani opened her eyes and sat up. She reached out to Ilto to try again.

  Ilto’s eyes flickered open. His hands moved away from hers. “No, don’t,” Ilto told her, his words pale under the deathlike silver sheen of his illness. “It might make you sick. I’ll take care of myself. The creature is ready; start the changes and put it in jeetho.”

  “Siti, please—” Ani began, but Ilto’s eyes closed and he slid back into unconsciousness. She looked at Ninto, hoping for help.

  “He told us not to interfere,” Ninto said, her skin olive-grey with resignation. “There’s nothing more that we can do but let him be and hope he gets better on his own.” She picked up a tumbi and handed it to Ani. “Now, eat. You’ll need your strength. We’ve got to put that thing in jeetho before Ilto recovers enough to start tinkering with it again. I’ve asked Hanto to look after Ilto while we’re busy.”

  A large group of mottled brown mantu were feeding placidly on the bait they had left the night before. Ninto and her bami, Baha, helped Ani gather about two dozen of them. The mantu retreated beneath their oval shells as they were picked up.

  Back at the village, they hauled an enormous trough from one of the storerooms. Pulling a mantu out of her gathering bag, Ani pried up the horny operculum that sealed the base of the shell. She sank her spur into the soft, yielding flesh beneath, injecting it with an enzyme that began the process of turning the mantu into jeetho, and put the shell in the trough. Ninto squatted beside her, and began stinging the mantu she had gathered.

  The mantu flesh began melting as the enzyme took effect. Baha removed the shells, opercula, and any undissolved organs from the slimy grey mass. Nothing of the mantu would go to waste. The shells would eventually become feast platters, the horny operculum would be made into tools and ornaments, and the organs would be fed to the narey.

  At last the gathering bags were empty. Ani leaned against the side of the trough. She felt drained and slightly dizzy from the effort of producing so much dissolution enzyme. Normally they only needed a few mantu, but the new creature required a huge batch of jeetho.

  After stopping to rest and eat, they resumed work. The jeetho was now a translucent grey jelly, covered with a frothy black scum which they skimmed off. Once the jelly was clean, Ani stuck her wrist spurs into it and injected another trigger chemical. She stirred the jelly, tasting it with a wrist spur. The jelly began to stiffen and turn a faint pink. Ninto stuck a spur into the mass and flushed approvingly.

  “You can leave it now,” Ninto said. She brushed her knuckles across Ani’s shoulder. “You did well.”

  Ani turned and glanced inquiringly over at Ilto.

  “He’s better,” Hanto told her. “He’ll be weak and shaky for a while, but he will recover. He’s a strong old kular. Just don’t let him play with that again,” she said, gesturing with her chin at the new creature.

  By morning the jeetho was transformed from a grey jelly into a reddish mass, striated with veins. The surface rippled as air rushed through its primitive respiratory system. Several simple hearts pulsed rhythmically inside it. It was ready to receive the new creature.

  Ani injected the strange animal with a trigger chemical to initiate the changes laid down by Ilto. Then they stung the jeetho once again, and laid the animal on it. The jeetho softened, and the new creature began to sink down into it. As Ani and Ninto watched, veins began growing into the creature’s skin.

  This was a risky time. The creature would either live or die, depending on how well Ilto had done his work. Could it survive inside the jeetho? Ani stuck a spur into the creature, monitoring its adaptation. Its complex heart beat slowly and strongly in a strange one-two rhythm. The level of oxygen in the creature’s blood dipped as its face was covered, then rose again as the jeetho took over the task of supplying it with oxygen.

  Once she was sure the new creature would survive inside the jeetho, Ani broke her link, pushing its arm into the clinging red jelly. The strange animal inside would be fed and nourished by the jeetho until its metamorphosis was complete. She stung the jeetho one last time. In a couple of days the jeetho would develop a tough, leathery skin.

  Ani and Ninto hid the creature in a storeroom. When the jeetho’s skin hardened, they concealed the new animal in one of Ninto’s na trees, where it would not tempt Ilto while he recovered.

  Chapter 2

  Juna awoke to darkness and confinement. She was inside some kind of damp, leathery sack. She tore her way out and found herself staring down at a fifty-meter drop. She moaned and clutched the tree branch she was on, her claws sinking deep into the bark. Claws?

  Her fingernails were gone. Instead sharp, catlike claws protruded from the ends of her fingers. Her skin was a brilliant orange. Juna closed her eyes, hoping that when she opened them again, her hands would be back to normal. But she could feel her claws pulling against the tips of her fingers. This was an incredibly vivid and realistic nightmare.

  She rested her forehead against the rough bark of the branch. The last thing she remembered was lying on the ground in the middle of an alien rain forest, struggling to breathe through her constricted airways. She had been dying of anaphylactic shock. Before that had been the flyer crash, followed by a forced march through the jungle in a desperate attempt to make it back to the Survey base. Now she was fifty meters up a tree, hanging on for dear life to a slippery, wet branch as big around as her thigh. A steady warm rain was falling. This wasn’t a dream. She was alive, impossible as that seemed. She clutched onto that thread of hope, and felt her terror ease.

  Why had she survived? Humans were profoundly allergic to every living world the Survey had found. This world was no exception. The air was loaded with pollen, molds, spores, and microscopic organisms. They couldn’t infect humans, but their alien proteins caused violent allergic reactions. Test animals from Earth exposed to the atmosphere usually died within hours.

  Tears pricked the inside of her eyelids as she remembered the slow, painful deaths of the others. Catherine, the tall, elegant pilot, had died in the crash. The rest—Hiro, Yanni, and Shana—had died of anaphylactic shock when their filters failed. Oliver had been the last to go. She had been holding him in her lap when the first symptoms struck her. She remembered the agony of her own itching eyes and swelling throat before she blacked out. It was a terrible way to go.

  Juna opened her eyes. Her skin was the grey of wet clay instead of its familiar dark brown. Fleshy red spurs protruded from the insides of her arms just above the wrist. They looked swollen and angry, as though they should hurt, but they didn’t.
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  A slight breeze pfeyed over her scalp. It felt oddly cool. Juna pried her claws from the branch and ran a hand over the top of her head, and sighed with regret. Her hair was gone too.

  The branch swayed in a sudden gust of wind. Her stomach tightened, and her claws dug into the branch until her fingers ached. Her skin flared orange again as a fresh burst of fear blossomed in her stomach.

  Juna took a deep breath and let it out. If she lost control, she would never get out of this tree alive. She fought back her panic. As it subsided, her hands faded to pale green. The strange color changes seemed related to shifts in her emotional state. So much for mah jongg and poker, Juna thought to herself with a nervous laugh. She shook her head. She had to get down to the ground before she fell apart completely. Focus on getting down, she told herself. Worry about everything else later.

  Juna inched carefully backward over the shredded remains of the leathery sack she had clawed her way out of. How had she wound up inside it? At last her groping feet found the trunk. She turned to face it, fighting a sudden surge of terror as the tree swayed in a fresh breeze.

  Clinging to the huge trunk made her feel a little more secure. Juna paused to consider her next move. It was then that she saw the alien.

  The biologist in her awoke and began observing the alien, her fear forgotten for the moment. It stood on a branch below Juna, watching her calmly. It resembled an enormous tree frog, except for its large fanlike ears and high, domed forehead. The alien was pale green, and completely naked, except for a satchel of woven grass slung over one shoulder. Its eyes were golden, with vertical, catlike pupils. On the inside of its arms, just above the wrist, were bright red spurs resembling the ones on her own arms.

  She looked like the alien, Juna realized. Was it responsible for her transformation? If so, how had it been done? The creature seemed far too primitive to be capable of such a feat.