Through Alien Eyes Page 3

  “I hope you’ll tell me more about it, when we have the time.”

  “Of course, I’d be glad to,” Ukatonen replied.

  Giselle thanked him, and left them to their work.

  It was a satisfying task. The soil, rich and moist, was a pleasure to work in. The plants would prosper. Moki touched his arm and Ukatonen looked up. A small pink animal wriggled in his palm. Except for the color, it looked much like a yetilye, an orange worm that ate decaying leaf matter and tiny soil organisms. The yetilye aerated the soil and fertilized it with their droppings.

  “What is it?”

  Ukatonen stuck a spur into it. It had the distinctive metabolic profile of an Earth animal. “I don’t know. Ask Giselle what it is.”

  The creature was called an earthworm, and it did much the same thing as a yetilye.

  Moki described the yetilye to Giselle. “Why is the earthworm so much like it?” he asked.

  “That’s a good question. It’s probably because the two creatures live in the soil and eat pretty much the same thing, even though they’re on two different planets.”

  “Ah,” Ukatonen said. “They occupy the same ecological niche.”

  “Yes, they do,” Giselle said, her eyebrows lifting. “Certain kinds of animals seem to occur over and over again on other living worlds. There is a large oceanic predator called a shark on Earth. A similar predator occupying a similar niche seems to turn up in every suitable ocean. The details of the skeleton, skin, and organs vary, but they are all much the same shape. Even their teeth are similar. I understand that the oceanic Survey team caught several sharklike animals on Tiangi. There are pictures in the Survey report. Perhaps you could identify them sometime.”

  “I would be glad to try, but first we must finish planting the Moon and Stars,” the enkar said with a ripple of amusement.

  Giselle grinned at his joke. “And once that’s done, we need to do some weeding,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. Ukatonen stiffened at the familiarity of this gesture, and he saw Giselle draw back.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I forgot myself.”

  “It’s all right,” Ukatonen assured her. “You humans do the same thing when we touch you.”

  Giselle looked embarrassed.

  “It’s all right,” Ukatonen said again. “We just have to learn to get used to each other.”

  She smiled. “I forgot because I like you,” she explained.

  “I know,” Ukatonen told her. “Thank you. You honor me.”

  Giselle met his gaze. “You honor me as well,” she replied.

  They finished transplanting and joined the rest of the crew at their weeding. Giselle teamed each of them up with another gardener to show them which plants were weeds. Ukatonen’s partner seemed stiff and embarrassed, mumbling instructions so that Ukatonen had to strain to hear. The earlier pleasure he felt was gone. Instead, he mulled over his partner’s discomfort. What caused it? Could he make the man feel more at ease?

  Ukatonen set down his trowel, got up, and walked over to where Giselle knelt, also weeding. He touched her on the shoulder. Giselle sat back on her heels, “Yes, what is it, Ukatonen?”

  He squatted beside her, “Why do Moki and I make everyone so uncomfortable? Are we doing something to offend them?” he asked, keeping his words small and private.

  “It’s nothing you’re doing, Ukatonen.” Giselle said. “They’re just not used to working with people who have no clothes on.”

  “But your people didn’t act like this back on Tiangi.”

  “Ukatonen, on Tiangi you were dealing almost entirely with Alien Contact personnel. They’re trained to accept cultural differences. Besides, your nudity probably seemed more natural in your own environment. Here on the ship it’s more noticeable. They’ll get over it eventually.”

  Ukatonen thanked Giselle, and returned to his work, deep in thought. Giselle had dismissed the problem, but Ukatonen could not. Their nudity posed a serious barrier to harmony with the humans. Perhaps Eerin could help them come up with a solution.

  “How did you like it?” Juna asked as she met Moki and Ukatonen after their gardening shift.

  “It was fun!” Moki told her. “I learned a lot. And I got to play with an earthworm!”

  “And you?” she asked Ukatonen, whose skin was muted and cloudy.

  “Oh, the gardening atwa went well enough,” Ukatonen told her, “but I have discovered a problem. Perhaps you could help me bring harmony to this situation.”

  “What is it?”

  Ukatonen told her what Giselle had said.

  “Well, what do you want to do about it?” Juna asked when he was finished.

  “I don’t know. Perhaps it might be better to wear clothes, but we can’t talk if we’re all covered up.”

  “You don’t need to wear a lot of clothes, Ukatonen. Maybe we can rig you a pair of shorts.” She glanced at her watch. “We’ve got about three hours before dinner. Let’s go see what the fabricator can spin for us.”

  The fabricator took the Tendu’s measurements in a quick flicker of light, and a couple of queries. Juna reassured the fabricator that the measurements were correct. Then, with help and comments from Moki and Ukatonen, she began designing some clothing for them. At last they arrived at a design that made them all happy, a pair of loose shorts with a brief kiltlike skirt over them. It provided modesty and freedom of movement, while leaving the torso bare so that the Tendu could communicate freely.

  Juna pressed the button, and the fabricator hummed quietly for about fifteen minutes. Then, with a faintly triumphant-sounding beep, the first pair appeared. She helped Ukatonen put them on. He peered down at the shorts. They needed to be a couple of inches longer, and a bit tighter in the seat, and looser at the waist, but for a first try, it was pretty good. Juna showed him the mirror, and watched as the enkar regarded himself. She had dreaded the idea of Tendu dressed up like humans, but this outfit had a faintly alien air to it that she liked.

  “Well?” she asked. “Do you like them? Are they comfortable?”

  Ukatonen shrugged. “Will this reassure the humans?”

  “It should.”

  “Then they’re fine.”

  She adjusted the fit on the computer, and then told the fabricator to make another pair. These fit perfectly. Then she made a pair for Moki, who donned them eagerly. He was very proud of them. “Can we make them in different colors, like your clothes?” he asked.

  Juna smiled. “Of course we can, but right now it’s time to eat. Let me adjust the fit a bit, and then we’ll go show off your new clothes at dinner.”

  The clothing, minimal as it was, made a surprising difference in the crews’ attitude toward the Tendu. People began talking to them. Moki became the center of a cluster of human friends wherever he went. Ukatonen made acquaintances more slowly and tentatively, but Giselle and several other members of the Life Support team befriended him, despite his enkarish reserve.

  Moki was extremely excited with his new clothes. He made dozens of them in brilliant colors and patterns until Juna, concerned that he would deplete the fabricator’s fiber supply, put a stop to it.

  Ukatonen made only a few pairs, mostly in neutral shades of green. They soon became rumpled, giving him the air of an absent-minded alien professor. Juna smiled at the thought. The stereotype fit him. He tended to ignore everything that wasn’t alive. It would be a problem for him on Earth. She imagined Ukatonen crossing a busy street, oblivious to the lumbering buses, trolleys, and delivery trucks, and winced. One problem was solved, but there was still a lot of work to do.

  She slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Bruce, padded across the cabin to her computer and entered a reminder to discuss this fresh worry with Don and Jennifer at their next meeting.

  She looked over her notes. Her list of things to discuss with them was already several pages long. How could they possibly teach the Tendu everything they needed to know before reaching Earth? She shut down the computer, and slipped back into
bed.

  Bruce slid his arm around her, and she snuggled against the warmth of his body. The next thing to work on, really, was smoothing out communication between humans and the Tendu. Juna stared up at the ceiling, her mind churning with problems and plans. Her Tendu-enhanced night vision bothered her on wakeful nights. Her cabin seemed too bright to let her rest. She got up and put a towel against the bottom of the door, blocking out the light filtering in from the companionway, and returned to bed, settling against Bruce’s warmth again. The Tendu’s problems would have to wait until morning. She needed some sleep.

  Ukatonen lay awake, marveling at how much difference wearing a length of cloth around his hips had made to the humans. But now that the humans were coming up to talk to him, his use of skin speech Standard got in the way. It got in Mold’s way too, though the friendly little bami managed to transcend the problem.

  Eerin told him that the humans would get used to their skin speech. But Giselle had said the same thing about clothes, and yet they had made a big difference to the humans. If a small thing like that change made such a difference, surely speaking sound speech would help even more.

  But the Tendu’s throats couldn’t make human sounds. It would be easy to alter Mold’s throat. Working on himself would be harder, especially since he would be working on the passage that supplied his lungs with air. A misstep could cost him his life, and Moki needed him. He could not die now.

  He tried, softly, to speak human speech, just to see how close he could come. The result sounded like nothing he’d ever heard a human say.

  “Are you all right, en?” Moki asked. “What is it?”

  “I was trying to make sound speech, like the humans. It would be easier to reach harmony with the humans if we could talk the way they do.”

  “I’ve tried to speak like the humans too, but my throat isn’t shaped right,” Moki said. “Can you imagine how surprised Eerin would be to hear us using sound speech?” Glowing laughter rippled over the bami’s body.

  Ukatonen laughed with the bami. “It would be fun to surprise her. But I can’t work on myself alone.”

  “I can monitor you while you do the deep work on yourself, en,” Moki said, his words as solemn as the glowing nighttime skin speech could be. “You have taught me well.”

  “You have been a good student,” Ukatonen told him, “but are you willing to assume responsibility for my life?”

  Moki’s skin darkened as he considered it. “If you think I am good enough, en.”

  “Then we will start in the morning, after we’ve slept and eaten well.”

  “Yes, en,” Moki replied. “And thank you.”

  “Go to sleep now, little one. We have a lot to do tomorrow.”

  Moki’s eyes slid closed, though Ukatonen could tell from the bami’s breathing that he was wrestling with the burden that Ukatonen had just laid on him. He reached over and let a couple of drops fall from his spurs onto the bami’s skin. Moki’s breathing slowed as the sleeping potion took effect.

  Ukatonen lay awake a few minutes longer, thinking through what needed to be done. He looked over at Moki, his face illumined by the wash of light leaking in under the door. This link would demand all of the bami’s skill at allu-a. He hoped that Moki would not fail him.

  * * *

  Moki awoke to the realization that Ukatonen’s life would depend on his skill at allu-a today. Was he up to the task? He had monitored Ukatonen before, when he was doing deep work, but Ukatonen would be working on himself today, and that was always risky.

  Ukatonen woke, and the two of them showered, luxuriating in the all-too-brief warmth and humidity. The humans had made the ship much more comfortable, but it was still too cold and dry.

  Eerin knocked on the door as they were basking in the steam produced by the shower. They pulled on their clothes and went with her to breakfast.

  “You’re eating a lot today. What’s up?” Eerin asked.

  “I was showing Moki some linking techniques last night,” Ukatonen told her. “We were very hungry when we woke up this morning.”

  Moki’s ears lifted at Ukatonen’s tale. The enkar glanced at him, and he lowered his ears and focused on finishing his breakfast.

  Eerin nodded. “Next time you can get something to eat from the galley; there’s someone on duty all through the night.”

  “Thank you,” Ukatonen said.

  “Don and Jennifer want to discuss ways to improve your communication skills. Can you meet with us on Tuesday afternoon, after lunch?”

  Ukatonen nodded. “Of course. We’ll be there.”

  They finished their breakfast, and hurried to their cabin.

  “I’d like to be speaking sound speech by that meeting,” Ukatonen said as they settled themselves on his bed.

  “But en, that’s only three days from now! How can we learn to speak sound speech that quickly?”

  “We only need to speak well enough to let them know that we are capable of using sound speech. But we must not waste time discussing this. We must begin now, and work well and swiftly.”

  The enkar held out his hands and they linked.

  Ukatonen’s presence surged into Moki. The enkar did a quick physical exam and then settled down to work. Mold’s windpipe tingled as Ukatonen began reshaping it. That done, Ukatonen moved on to alter Moki’s palate and thicken his tongue. When he was done, Ukatonen examined his work, and then broke the link.

  “Try some sound speech,” Ukatonen suggested. “Think of how Eerin’s throat feels when she speaks.”

  Moki concentrated, remembering the movements of Juna’s lips and tongue from the few times she had spoken during a link.

  “Huuwoo! Hoo ah oo?” Moki said, his voice sounding buzzy and flat. He bit his tongue on the last syllable.

  Moki shook his head. “It didn’t work,” he said in skin speech.

  “It was almost recognizable. Keep trying. Eerin told me once that it can take years for a young human to learn to speak. You did very well for your first try.”

  “Perhaps the computer knows something about how humans learn to talk,” Moki suggested.

  Ukatonen hesitated. He disliked working with the computer. It seemed wrong that a nonliving machine should hold so much knowledge. But the computer was a human thing, and he needed to learn about it. And it would not be good for Moki to see his discomfort. He was an enkar, after all.

  “Let’s see what we can find,” Ukatonen said, forcing his dislike out of his mind.

  Moki woke the computer. After fifteen minutes of careful searching, he downloaded several useful articles. They picked their way through them, pausing often, and getting explanations from the computer. Then Moki began practicing phonemes, while Ukatonen coached him. By lunch time, Moki had learned to pronounce several consonants, and was able to differentiate between most of the vowels. His voice still sounded buzzy and flat.

  “You’re doing well,” Ukatonen told him, as they got ready for lunch.

  “Ah hobe zzo,” Moki replied aloud. “Izz harr.”

  Ukatonen brushed his shoulder reassuringly. “I know, but you’re learning quickly.”

  “I miss hunting,” Moki complained in skin speech, as they joined the queue of humans waiting for lunch. “The food is all right, but getting it is really boring. No wonder humans had to make so many different machines. They needed something to do with their time.”

  A ripple of amusement coursed down Ukatonen’s back. “Perhaps, little one, but remember, one of those machines made that clothing you’re so proud of.”

  Mold’s ears flattened against his head. “Yes, en,” he said, his words dark brown with embarrassment.

  Ukatonen brushed his shoulder. “Learning to live with the humans is difficult. But this trip is about more than just being with your sitik. You are here to learn about your sitik’s people. Someday you will help the Tendu and the humans achieve harmony.”

  “Yes, en,” Moki replied, his words a contrite shade of greyish brown. Inwardly he cringed at the
responsibility that Ukatonen expected him to assume. He loved Eerin, and he wanted there to be harmony between humans and Tendu, but they were so different. How could such a thing be possible?

  Eerin and Bruce waved them over as they emerged from the food line. Eerin was explaining the fine points of the life cycle of the gauware tree to Dr. Maass and Jennifer when the two Tendu joined them at the table.

  Moki glanced up at Bruce, who was listening to the discussion. He looked bored. It was a small disharmony, but it troubled Moki, because he could not fix it. He touched Bruce on the shoulder.

  “What is it, Moki?”

  Moki spoke in small, private speech on his forearm, “Ukatonen and I need your help on something. It’s a secret, though. We want to surprise Eerin and the others when we meet with Don and Jennifer on Tuesday. Do you promise not to tell?”

  “What is it?” Bruce asked.

  “We want to speak like humans,” Moki told him, “but we need your help. Can you come to our cabin after lunch?”

  Bruce nodded. “I’ll be there at two o’clock.”

  He arrived with typical human promptness. This human habit of punctuality was certainly convenient when you didn’t have much time, Moki thought. Humans always seemed to be in a hurry. Perhaps it was because they didn’t live as long as the Tendu.

  “What do you want me to do?” Bruce asked.

  “We need to link with you,” Ukatonen told him. “I need to compare your vocal anatomy to Moki’s and see if I need to make any corrections.”

  “I could get in trouble,” Bruce protested. “It’s against regs to link with you. I could be court-martialed and drummed out of the service.”

  “I’m sorry, Bruce,” Ukatonen said. “We shouldn’t have asked this of you. Forgive us.”

  Bruce shrugged, then looked up. “You know, I’ve always wondered what it was like for Juna. What were you going to do to me?”

  “We won’t do anything to you in the link. I just want to check my work,” Ukatonen reassured him. “We’ll be monitoring you, and if you get scared or overwhelmed, we’ll stop.”