Amy Thomson: Through Alien Eyes

“I’m afraid that they’ve slipped out of the room, Commander. They’re not used to shipboard life just yet, and I think the reception was a little overwhelming.” Her lips tightened in momentary exasperation. It was considered very poor form to snub the captain of the ship, especially at a formal reception like this.

Guilt replaced her irritation. Ukatonen was here because of her. If she had not adopted Moki, Ukatonen would not be here. But then, neither would Moki, and she couldn’t imagine life without her irrepressible bami.

She shook her head. She could not change the past. The present was all that mattered now. She apologized to the commander, and went to find her two wayward aliens.

Moki found the enkar in the garden. He held his arms out, spurs upward, asking to link with Ukatonen. Here on this sterile, barren ship, their world dwindling behind them, Moki needed the comfort of allu-a as much as the enkar did, and it would not violate his dignity to admit it.

“Let’s go to our cabin,” Ukatonen said. “It’s too open out here. The humans will see us.”

Moki nodded. Allu-a made the humans uneasy, so they had to link in private. A yellow flicker of irritation forked down Moki’s back. Everything about them seemed to make the humans uneasy. He hated the restrictions their discomfort burdened him with.

They left the garden and threaded the long, bright maze of passageways with their brilliant white walls and sharp corners, their feet silent on the soft beige carpet. The empty hallways made Moki nervous. He kept expecting something to jump out at him from behind one of the myriad identical doors that lined the hallways. His nervousness was the result of long years as a tinka with no sitik to protect him from predators. The reflexes of that vulnerable time came back to him here in the bare corridors of the humans’ sky raft.

They passed several humans, who looked away uncomfortably. Something about them embarrassed the humans. Yet only a few of the humans on Tiangi had responded like that. What were they doing wrong?

At last they reached their cabin. The door slid open with a sound like the hiss of an angry ganuna. Still, Moki felt profoundly relieved when the door hissed shut behind them. This cold, dry, alien room was the only spot on the ship where they could truly be themselves. The two of them sat on one of the strange, flat beds provided by the humans. Moki stretched out his arms, spurs upward. Uka-tonen grasped Moki’s forearms. Their spurs pierced each other’s skin and they plunged into the inner metabolic world of tastes, smells, and emotions that was allu-a.

As always, Moki marveled at the power of Ukatonen’s presence. Linking with Ukatonen was like being swept along by a rain-swollen river. Despite his power, Ukatonen controlled the link with the delicate precision of a mi-tamit building her mating web. Moki drifted, letting the comfort of the enkar’s presence carry him along. Ukatonen’s presence enfolded Moki, and Moki let his sour loneliness and bitter frustration wash into the link, where the power of the enkar’s presence swept it away.

Moki reached out to Ukatonen, trying to release the fear and loneliness that the enkar kept hidden. Ukatonen pushed him away. Moki relaxed immediately, emitting shame and embarrassment at his presumption. The swiftness and contrition of Moki’s apology amused Ukatonen. Even if he hadn’t gotten Ukatonen to relax his rigid emotional control, Moki had at least alleviated the enkar’s dark and lonely mood.

They lingered well past the point of emotional equilibrium. Neither wanted to leave the familiar haven of allu-a for the alien world outside. At last Moki began to tire, and Ukatonen broke the link with a bittersweet tinge of regret.

The door hissed open and Juna climbed down the spiral staircase to the garden. The garden was silent and empty, the bright sun lights shining down on the motionless plants. Everyone not on duty was at the reception. She felt vaguely guilty, slipping away like this.

Well, if they weren’t in the garden, they were probably in their cabin. She headed down the carpeted hallways until she reached their cabin. Opening the door, she peeked inside. Ukatonen and Moki were seated on the bed, lost in allu-a.

Juna sat on the cabin’s second bed and watched the two aliens. She had been so busy dealing with the details of getting them settled and preparing for orbit that she had been able to link with the Tendu only once. And the Survey had prohibited allu-a. It was a regulation that came from Earth, based on the report she had made four and a half years ago, when she was first marooned on Tiangi. She had barely known the Tendu then, and linking was still a strange and frightening invasion.

The regulation was stupid, but no one on this side of the jump gate had the authority to countermand it, so Juna had decided to ignore the rule. Moki had a deep physiological need to link with her. If he could not engage in allu-a with his sitik, he would become apathetic and depressed, and eventually die.

She sighed, wishing she was linked with the Tendu. Their skins were a calm, neutral celadon, reflecting their inward preoccupation. Seated, with their long limbs folded, they looked strangely childlike. The spidery, graceful Tendu had made her feel huge and awkward when she was on Tiangi. Here on the ship, they seemed somehow diminished. Ukatonen, who was one of the tallest Tendu she had ever met, barely came up to her chin, and Moki was nearly a foot shorter than that.

Those first few weeks had been a brutal time. The filters on her environment suit had failed and she was dying of anaphylactic shock when the aliens found her. She had awakened in a strange, leathery cocoon, halfway up a tree. Her skin was wet and slimy, and changed color in response to her emotions.

The Tendu thought she was some strange new animal, and had treated her as such until she learned to communicate with them. Even after that it had been hard. She had to learn to eat raw meat, and sleep in a pile of rotting leaves, and struggle to understand the Tendu’s primitive, harsh lives. The loneliness, strangeness and isolation had nearly unhinged her.

Ukatonen and Moki were suffering the same dislocation and loneliness that she had felt on Tiangi. She did everything she could to help them, but it was up to them to adapt to life among her people. Unlike her, however, they had chosen to leave their people. And they had each other for company. Most important of all, they had allu-a to help ease their loneliness.

Allu-a was the bond that held the Tendu culture together. Linking cemented the bond between bami and sitik; it drew villages into a harmonious, coherent whole; and helped the enkar resolve disputes. After four and a half years on Tiangi, she had learned to treasure the intense level of intimacy that came with linking. The formal, distant life she had lived in the Survey seemed sterile and lonely now.

She missed her life on Tiangi nearly as much as the two Tendu did. But she also missed being among humans again, and she fiercely missed her family. Her brother Toivo’s spine had been crushed in a spinball accident, leaving him paralyzed. She had to see Toivo, and try to help him. And so they were all here, on their way to Earth. She hoped she had done the right thing. Unlike the enkar, she had to live with her mistakes.

With a sudden, deep inhalation, Ukatonen opened his eyes and sat up, unclasping Moki’s arms. Moki awoke a moment later. They looked better. The link must have gone well.

“Hello, Eerin,” Moki said, reaching out and brushing her cheek with his knuckles. “It was a good link. I’m sorry that you weren’t with us.”

“I wish I had been,” she told them. “I came to see how you were doing. I’m concerned about you, en,” she said to Ukatonen. “You seem unhappy.”