Amy Thomson: The Color of Distance

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.

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.

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.