The Color of Distance Read online

  A ripple of brilliant blue passed over the alien’s chest. The color moved so fluidly and swiftly over its body that Juna glanced around, looking for a blue light source. Another blue ripple passed over the creature, and Juna realized that the alien was changing its skin color with uncanny speed and control. It was an eerily beautiful sight.

  The alien stepped back on the branch, and sat down. It patted the branch in front of it, gesturing toward her with a limp hand. Clearly it was inviting her to join it.

  Juna hesitated, wishing that Kinsey or one of the other Alien Contact specialists were here. She had forgotten most of the Contact Protocols she had learned at the Academy. She looked at the alien. It was waiting to see what she would do. What did it want with her? Could she trust it?

  She didn’t have much choice. She was lost in a jungle on a strange planet. Her chances of surviving were much greater if this alien helped her. Besides, finding such a creature was an incredible coup. Juna imagined the fuss that her appearance back at base camp with the alien would cause. Her fear eased and she smiled. Carefully, her new claws sinking deep into the bark as she fought a renewed surge of fear, Juna climbed down to meet the alien.

  An explosion of yellow spirals appeared on the alien’s chest as Juna settled herself against the trunk of the tree. It beckoned her closer but she refused to move. Getting this far was terrifying enough. She wanted to sit somewhere that felt safe for a while.

  The alien came toward her, walking easily on all fours. It settled itself only a couple of meters away. Reaching into its satchel, it took out a large yellow fruit, holding it up so she could see it. It bit into the fruit, chewing and swallowing with ostentatious enjoyment. The alien flushed a deep shade of turquoise. Then it took another fruit from its satchel, shuffled forward cautiously, and extending a very long arm, set the fruit on the branch within Juna’s reach. It moved back and finished the fruit it was eating, never taking its gaze from her.

  Juna looked from the fruit to the alien. Her stomach growled. She was ravenous. Moving slowly, she picked up the fruit. Blue and green flowed over the alien’s skin, like ripples over the surface of a pool. Juna examined the fruit. It was soft and pulpy, like a papaya, and smelled sweet. Her mouth filled with saliva. She hadn’t been this hungry since she was a child in the refugee camps.

  What the hell, Juna thought, I’d rather die of food poisoning than starvation. At least it looked more appetizing than some of the things she had had to eat when it was a choice between starving and eating filth. She bit into the alien fruit. It was delicious, the flavor falling somewhere between banana and papaya, with a hint of hard-boiled egg. She glanced down. Her skin was brilliant turquoise.

  “Good,” she said. “It’s good.”

  At the sound of her voice, the alien’s delicate ears fanned wide. A cluster of purple shapes passed over its skin. They reminded her of grapes. That triggered a sudden, vivid memory of harvesting grapes in her father’s vineyard. She remembered the dusty sunlight, the rich, winey taste of the fruit. It seemed so far away now, as though it had happened in someone else’s childhood. Juna took another bite of the yellow fruit. Its intense sweetness, so different from the tart tang of remembered grapes, brought her back to the present.

  The alien watched Juna intently as she ate. When she was finished it eased forward on the branch, holding out another fruit.

  Juna took it from the alien’s fingers and tore off a piece. She held it out to the alien, returning the gift. A complex zigzag pattern flickered across the alien’s chest as it accepted the offer. It ate the fruit, then reached out again, fingers carefully curled, and brushed the backs of its fingers across the knuckles of her outstretched hand. The gesture seemed formal. It waited expectantly.

  Hesitantly, Juna reached out and brushed her knuckles across the back of the alien’s hand. Its skin felt cool and moist.

  The alien visibly relaxed. Rapid explosions of turquoise and azure flickered across its skin. Juna sighed in relief. She felt as though she had crossed a barrier, gaining the alien’s trust. It was a good beginning.

  When Juna finished the second fruit, the alien got up and ambled to the end of the branch, beckoning her to follow. It bounded across a two-meter gap to the next tree. Then it turned and looked at her, flushing purple, its ears lifted.

  Juna climbed as far out on the branch as she dared. It bowed under her weight. A wave of sick dizziness overwhelmed her. She looked across the gap at the alien, then down at the distant ground.

  “No,” she said. “I can’t do it.” She shook her head and backed away from the end of the branch, her skin blazing orange with fear. What would she do if the alien abandoned her?

  The alien beckoned to her with the same limp-handed gesture, dark green ripples passing over its body. Juna shook her head and backed farther up the branch.

  The alien turned bright yellow and leaped lightly across the gap. The impact of its landing shook the branch. Juna cried out and dug into the tree limb with her claws, fighting for balance. The alien reached out to her. She reached up and grasped its hand. Despite the cold wetness of its touch, the strength of the alien’s grip reassured her. The sick dizziness began to ease.

  “Thank you,” she said, knowing it didn’t understand her.

  Before Juna realized what it was doing, the alien levered her onto its back. She started to struggle, then froze, afraid she would knock them both off the narrow branch. The alien leaped across the gap between the trees with Juna on its back. It released her as soon as they were across. Beckoning her to follow, it set off again.

  Juna followed the alien. She wanted to get down onto safe, firm ground where she could cry and shake for an hour or so, but that wasn’t an option. This is no harder than the obstacle course at the Survey Academy, she told herself. She focused on the details of the climb, finding footholds, pulling herself up, proving both to the alien and herself that she was capable of surviving.

  The alien waited for her by the main trunk. As she drew closer, it leaped nimbly up the trunk to another branch about six meters higher and about a quarter of the way around the tree. It paused again, watching, as Juna clambered up the massive trunk. As soon as she reached the limb where the alien waited, it bounded to the end of the branch, pausing at the gap between the trees.

  Several thick vines bridged the space between the branch they were on and the next tree. The alien purpled and raised its ears in what was becoming a familiar, inquisitive gesture. It swung hand over hand across the gap, as though the sixty-meter drop didn’t exist, then sat waiting for her on the other side. Juna looked at the vines, and then up at the alien, then back at the bridge of lianas.

  “All right,” she muttered, “but if I fall and kill myself, it’s your fault.”

  She grabbed hold of the vine and let herself swing down. It sagged, but didn’t break. Her stomach tightened and her heart beat wildly as she crossed hand over hand between the trees, but she made it over in one piece. The alien reached down and helped pull her onto the branch. As soon as Juna was settled, it turned and bounded off again.

  Juna lost all track of time on that terrifying trip through the treetops. Twice, she nearly fell to her death. Each time the alien was there to steady her, or pull her back onto the branch. Then it continued on as though nothing had happened. Finally, the alien paused and beckoned her close. It smeared a sticky liquid on Juna’s back. When it was finished, it leaped across the gap, beckoning Juna to follow.

  A cloud of brightly colored, loudly buzzing bees swarmed around Juna as soon as she landed on the next tree. Juna ducked and hid her head between her arms. These same bees had attacked her when she was out collecting specimens for the Survey. They had clustered so thickly on the face plate of her helmet that she couldn’t see to climb. This time, the insects merely hovered briefly and then buzzed off again.

  The alien turned the bright red spurs on its wrists upward. The bees clustered on its arms. Looking closer, Juna saw a sticky, golden fluid oozing from its wrist
spurs. The insects appeared to be feeding on the secretions. After a minute or two the alien gently shook its arms and the bees flew away.

  Several other aliens sat on another branch, staring at Juna. Brilliant patterns rippled over their bodies. She looked back at them for a long moment. Then her guide brushed her shoulder with its knuckles and beckoned her on. She turned to follow, and stopped short in amazement, her exhaustion forgotten.

  She was in one of the most remarkable trees she had ever seen. The limb she stood on was half a meter thick, and fifty meters from the ground. The bark was worn smooth from the passage of many feet, and its sides were bearded with ferns and moss. The trunk was at least a dozen meters in diameter, rising from thick, buttressed roots. The trunk split into a many-branched crotch about forty-five meters from the ground, forming a great bowl a dozen meters across. In the center of the crotch was a round hole big enough to drop a piano through. The edges of the hole were worn smooth with use. As she watched, an alien emerged from the trunk of the tree, joining several other aliens seated beside the hole, busy weaving baskets. They stopped and stared at Juna as she approached. She felt naked under their unreadable gaze.

  Excitement broke through the wall of her fatigue. No wonder the Survey team hadn’t seen these people. Their villages were indistinguishable from the surrounding forest.

  Ignoring the stares of the other aliens, her guide beckoned her toward a series of steep steps leading down into the gaping hole. Clouds of bees filled the air. The tree vibrated with their humming. At last her guide helped her onto a platform about two meters wide.

  She turned and looked down into the heart of the hollow tree. It reminded her of a gigantic seashell. Four steep ramps spiraled down the inside of the tree. Arched doorways branched off it at regular intervals. Aliens climbed up and down the ramps on mysterious errands; others clustered in doorways eating and socializing. The walls glowed with a soft blue radiance that illuminated the tree’s interior. The glow came from a fungus growing on the walls. She touched its soft, velvety surface, wondering what form of bioluminescence caused the glow. Her fingers came away powdered with faintly glowing blue.

  Juna looked down into the depths of the tree for a dizzying moment. A distant pool of water reflected the blue glow of the walls and the far-off gleam of the sky. The tree smelled of damp wood and leaves, tinged with the faint sweetness of honey. There was a sense of order and tranquillity about this beautiful, strange place.

  The tree teemed with life. Iridescent bees swirled in shafts of watery sunlight. Small lizards scuttled out of her way, and thousands of insects filed up and down the trunk of the tree, carrying bits of leaves and litter. She startled a tiny, slender serpent, no bigger around than her little finger, and perhaps twenty centimeters long. The snake hurled itself into the air, gliding away on brilliant ribbed wings.

  About a fifth of the way down, they stepped onto a narrow balcony and entered one of the many low doorways that opened onto the central cavity. The door passed through a half-meter-thick wall opening onto a room shaped like a wide slice of pie with the tip cut off. It was a good-sized room, bigger than the common room in her group marriage’s house. She felt a small twinge of regret, as she always did, at anything that reminded her of her failed marriage.

  Two small, deep windows set into the meter-thick trunk provided more air than light. The same glowing fungus that illuminated the rest of the tree covered the low ceiling, filling the room with shadowless blue light. Coils of rope and nets hung neatly from pegs by the door. Shelves growing out of the walls held a variety of baskets, gourds, and leaf-wrapped bundles. The only things marring the sense of neatness and order in the room were several large insects that scuttled purposefully over the glowing ceiling. The floor stepped up to form a raised platform across the wide end of the room. Three aliens were seated on the edge of the raised platform. Their ears spread wide as Juna came in.

  One of the seated aliens beckoned her closer. It was painfully thin; its color seemed faded and it moved slowly. She wondered if it was sick. It motioned her to sit with a flat, economical downward gesture, its fingers partly curled. She sat, facing the gaunt alien. Her guide squatted beside her, its long, slender toes splayed wide for balance.

  The sick alien examined her hands, turning them over and looking at her palms. Then it pinched her fingertips, one after the other, forcing her claws to extend. It hurt. Juna tried to pull away, but the alien’s grip was like iron, despite its frail appearance. It examined the red spurlike swellings on her wrists, and ran its fingers lightly over her back. It even spread her legs and examined her genitalia. Juna remembered showing sheep at farm fairs as a teenager. She knew now how those sheep felt as they were being judged. She suppressed the urge to struggle. Her life depended on these aliens. A hostile move now could be fatal.

  At last the examination ended. Her guide and one of the other aliens got up and left the room, pushing through a crowd of curious onlookers at the door. Juna suddenly felt very weak and shaky. She rested her forehead on her knees as the shock of all she had been through today caught up with her. She wasn’t giving them a very good impression of the human race, Juna thought, embarrassed by her weakness. With an effort, she mastered herself and sat up.

  The two remaining aliens watched her in silence; faintly luminous patterns flowed over their skins like the reflection of waves in a pool. The frail alien motioned toward a pile of gourds. More patterns flickered over its skin. The other alien got up and brought the sick one a gourd. The sick alien lifted the lid, pulled out a thick honeycomb, and handed it to her.

  Gingerly, Juna bit into it. Thick, sweet honey dripped down her chin and gushed into her mouth. She chewed, sucking the sweet syrup out of the comb. She swallowed the honey and spit the comb into her hand. Her skin turned purple as she looked inquisitively at the alien. It handed her an empty leaf. Juna set the chewed wax on it. Bees began clustering on the wax, probably taking it away to use again.

  The sweet honey hit her system with a rush of energy. Her head cleared, and she felt much less shaky. She brushed the emaciated alien’s hand with her knuckles, hoping that her skin reflected her gratitude. Its ears fanned wide in surprise, and it looked at its companion, flushing purple. A wash of patterns flickered over the companion’s skin, too fast for Juna to follow. The sick alien watched, then flickered patterns back.

  Watching, Juna realized that those patterns had meaning. The aliens communicated visually. Her heart sank. If the aliens’ language was visual, it would take a long time for her to learn to communicate with them, especially without her computer. The Survey was scheduled to leave about two and a half Earth-Standard months after the flyer crash. Juna had no idea of how long she had been unconscious. If she didn’t get back to base soon, she might be marooned here forever. Her throat tightened in fear at the prospect. She had to move swiftly. If she couldn’t get an alien guide in a few days’ time, then she was going to have to set out on her own.

  The other aliens returned bearing large leaves piled high with food, and several big gourds full of water.

  Juna’s stomach growled. The aliens’ ears lifted and they looked at her, purpling with curiosity. Embarrassed, Juna blushed. Her skin turned a deep, rich brown, almost its original color. Pale blue and green waves of color washed over the sick alien. Was it laughing at her? Juna shrugged, mod blushed a deeper brown. The sick alien laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She smiled and brushed its hand with her knuckles again. She was beginning to like these people.

  Her guide offered her a gourd brimming with clear water. Juna drank deeply. The water was flat, with a faint acidic tang. So much had been going on that she hadn’t realized how thirsty she was. The aliens drank, then splashed water over their skins. Juna sluiced water over herself, mashing away the sticky honey.

  The aliens began eating. Her guide picked up a small purple fruit, smelled it, and handed it to her. Juna picked it up, and examined it. She didn’t recognize it, so it was probably yet another specie
s new to the Survey. She smelled it, in case this was expected. The fruit had a rich, complex odor, aromatic and sweet, like a fine wine. The sick alien touched her arm with its knuckles. She glanced up. It held out a similar fruit, and showed her how to peel and eat it. It tasted like one of her father’s finest botrytic Rieslings, only without the alcohol aftertaste.

  The food was delicious, but the textures and flavors were disconcerting. One fruit smelled and tasted like custard with cinnamon, another Iruit resembled fresh crab. Juna sampled the pale grey meat. It tasted sweet, as though marinated in fruit juice, and salty, with a faint hint of cheese. It was odd, but not unpleasant. She wondered what kind of animal it had come from.

  The aliens urged food on her until she couldn’t eat another bite. The meal made a huge difference. She no longer felt as if a strong wind could blow her away. When everyone was finished eating, her guide poured water into a bowl made from half a gourd and presented it to each person in turn. They rinsed their hands and arms, and splashed their faces to wash off the remains of their meal.

  When that was done, the sick alien held its arms toward Juna, spurs up. It wanted something. Unable to understand, Juna shook her head. The alien reached out and grasped her arm just above the wrist. Its touch was cool and firm. Then its wrist spur pricked her arm, and she was unable to move. Fear surged through her as she fought this sudden paralysis. As quickly as it had come, her fear was washed away. Juna knew she should be terrified, but she couldn’t reach her fear. Her guide grasped the sick one’s other arm. Their wrist spurs joined. A third alien linked wrist spurs with her guide.

  It was like being trapped in warm ice. She could feel a presence moving through her like a chill in the blood. It felt as if slimy hands were fingering her flesh from the inside. Enmeshed in a cocoon of passivity, she could only sit in paralyzed terror as an alien presence took over her body.

  Once, in the refugee camps, five older boys had held her down and taken turns raping her. She had been only eight. This alien violation brought it all back—the shame, the humiliation, the helplessness. Anger surged up inside her. She hurled her rage against the alien presence inside her. It was all she had left to fight with.