Amy Thomson - Through Alien Eyes

Ukatonen broke the link and fled, ashamed of his sudden cowardice, but he could feel Anitonen and Naratonen’s thoughts coming toward him like a dark line of rain. They were going to offer to help him die, and he was terribly afraid that he would accept their gift.

“Ukatonen, wait!”

It was Eerin. He stopped by the elevator and waited for her to catch up.

“What happened, en?” she asked. “I felt Naratonen do something, but I wasn’t sure what happened after that.”

Ukatonen darkened in shame as he explained.

“Let’s go for a walk,” Eerin suggested. “There’s a Mo-toyoshi garden you haven’t seen yet.”

Ukatonen looked up at her, his skin lightening in anticipation.

’That would be good,” he told her.

They went, and he sat in stillness by a small, twisted tree, near a trickling stone fountain letting the peace of the garden seep into him.

“I cannot do this anymore,” he told her at last. “I am no longer an enkar.”

“But you are something more than an enkar,” Eerin told him, “not something less.”

“I am a new kind of Tendu,” Ukatonen replied. “But I don’t know what that means yet. I don’t know where I fit into the world.”

“You are part of our family, for one thing. There is one place where you belong.”

He looked up at her, moved by her words, but saddened also. “Perhaps, for now,” he said. “I do not think it will be a long-term solution.”

“I know, en,” Eerin said, smiling ruefully as she heard herself use the title. “But you need to belong somewhere until you find that solution.”

He reached out and took her hand, twining his long green fingers with her shorter brown ones. “Thank you,” he said.

Naratonen watched Moki and Ukatonen playing in the trees, marveling at how deceptively normal they seemed. Living among humans had changed them, frighteningly so in Ukatonen’s case. It made Naratonen worry about how much he had changed since he and Anitonen had left Tiangi.

Ukatonen’s skin flickered in relaxed delight as he chased Moki through the trees. How could an enkar as strong and determined as Ukatonen have changed so much in so short a time? Naratonen had been shocked into stillness when Ukatonen returned after that disastrous first link, and formally renounced being an enkar. Naratonen shook his head. How could Ukatonen renounce his status? It was like renouncing your ears.

But Ukatonen was happy, full of the overflowing joy-fulness one normally found in a bami. According to Eerin, it was because he no longer had to strive for the perfection expected of an enkar.

Anitonen touched him on the shoulder. He turned to see what she was going to say.

“Have you spoken to him yet?”

“No,” flickered across Naratonen’s skin. “I haven’t found the right time.”

“Then we will have to make the right time,” Anitonen declared. “He knows more than any other enkar about humans. We need that knowledge.”

“But he is no longer an enkar,” Naratonen pointed out. He was still trying to comprehend what that meant.

“So he says,” Anitonen replied. “But that does not make it true. Ukatonen is needed, and we must make him understand that.”

Naratonen watched Ukatonen playing, green and gold sun dapples sliding across his laughing skin. “I don’t see how, en.”

“Neither do I, but somehow we must convince him.”

Naratonen looked up and felt a faint mist of regret cloud his skin. Ukatonen had come through so much to achieve this fragile happiness, and now he had to destroy it again.

“It will not be easy.”

“I can’t go back now,” Ukatonen said. “Moki needs me. And there’s Mariam. I want to stay here and help Mariam grow up.”

“And what of your people? They need you too,” Naratonen argued.

“I can best serve the Tendu by remaining here and continuing to learn about humans, and by teaching humans and Tendu about each other. You do not need me,” Uka-tonen said firmly. “You need more enkar who understand humans. Send them here, and I will teach them. But I will not go back to Tiangi until Mariam is old enough to go with us.”

“And when will that be?” Anitonen asked.

“Not for several years, at least,” Ukatonen said, feeling a twinge of guilt at how far he was stretching the truth.

“You are an enkar!” Naratonen insisted. “Your duty lies with the Tendu!”

“I am no longer an enkar, and I have no duties. I will stay here with Moki and with Eerin and her family.”

Naratonen recoiled, his skin roiling with pale orange swirls of horror.

“Other enkar have become hermits, retreating from their duties for a time,” Ukatonen told the two enkar. “What I am doing is not too different. As I am, I am not strong enough in the link to be an enkar. Perhaps I will never be. What good can I do on Tiangi, where I would only be a source of shame for the enkar? Here, I am valued. Each day I learn more about humans— who they are, how they think. And most importantly, I have a hand in shaping Moki and Mariam. Those two, raised together, will be a potent force in creating harmony between our people.”

“But how can we deal with these humans without you?” Anitonen demanded. “They want so much from us. And some of the villagers are growing impatient. They want the humans’ metal tools, and the strong ropes that do not rot.”

Amusement rippled over Ukatonen’s skin. “This is good. It gives humans and Tendu a reason to listen to each other.”

“Perhaps,” Anitonen said. “But we have no idea what die next step should be. We are so far from harmony. How can we trade without causing each other harm?”

“If you don’t know what the next step should be, then remain still until you know where to go,” Ukatonen told them.

“But— ” Naratonen began.

“Coming here was a good idea,” Ukatonen went on. “I will help you learn and give you advice, but I will not go back with you when you return.”

With that, he got up and left them.

When he was gone, Anitonen turned to Naratonen. “Well, what now?”

“I don’t know,” Naratonen admitted. “Wait, and hope that he changes his mind.”

A flicker of ironic amusement ran down Anitonen’s torso. “When have you ever known him to change his mind?”

Naratonen’s skin was dark and serious. “He has changed so much since he left us. Perhaps that, too, might have changed.”

Juna was sitting up and reading when Ukatonen came in, his skin roiling with emotion.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“Naratonen and Anitonen want me to go back to Tiangi with them.”

Juna felt a clutch at her heart. Carefully keeping her face neutral, she set down her book. “And?”

“I said no. I told them that I wasn’t leaving until Mariam was old enough to come with us. Moki needs me, Mariam needs me, and you need me. Besides, I want to help you raise both of them.”

“Ukatonen,” Juna said, deeply moved by his decision. “What about you? What do you need? You’ve been away from your people for a long time. I worry about what this isolation is doing to you.”

“And what about Moki?” he said. “If I leave, he will be the only Tendu in a world of humans.”

“Perhaps Anitonen or Naratonen can stay to help.”

Ukatonen looked at her for a long moment. His golden eyes gleamed in the dim lamplight. “I don’t want to go back to Tiangi. There is no place for me there.”

“And here?” Juna asked him.

“Here I have you, Moki, your family, and many friends. There is useful work for me to do, and a whole new world to learn about. On Tiangi, I would be a cripple, and not, as your people call it, ‘disabled.’ Everyone would wonder why I had not chosen the honorable course and killed myself. I would be shunned and derided as less than honorable. Among the villagers, I would be a laughingstock. Among the enkar, I would be a source of shame.”