Amy Thomson - The Color of Distance

Juna looked up. It was Alison.

“Alison! Thank you for the wine!” Juna stood and hugged her friend.

“Most people would have thanked me for that excellent meal!” Alison teased her fondly. “It must run in the family.”

Juna held her friend out at arm’s length. She looked good, a few pounds heavier, some lines a little deeper, but healthy and relaxed.

“So how did you get on board?” Juna asked. “I thought you had tc retire.”

“The retirement age for cooks is seventy-five. I’m only seventy, and unlike most Survey chefs, I can cook. I couldn’t miss this trip! So I pulled a few strings and here I am.”

“How did you get the wine?”

“As soon as I got the job, I went and visited your father. He gave it tc me then,” Alison told her. “1 kept it under lock and key in my cabin so it wouldn’t get requisitioned by one of the officers. Even Bremen didn’t know about it until after he met you. I had the communications officer tell him.”

“My father, how is he?”

“He’s well, but getting on, like all of us,” Alison said.

“And my brother?”

Alison’s face clouded over. She took a letter out of her apron pocket. “You need to read this. It’s from your father.”

Juna opened the letter, blinking back tears at the fannrMiltmra^fnii rf inor father’s bold, sprawling handwriting.

Dear Juna,

I am well and the farm is prospering. We put up several fine vintages while you were gone.’ I’ll be sending them along with the private stock that Alison is taking. I hope and pray daily that you will be found safe and healthy. There has been too much other sadness here. Someone may already have told you about Toivo. I hope not. I would rather you hear about family from family.

Toivo was playing spinball and fell against a support strut that broke away, carrying him and it into gravity. It was a miracle he wasn’t killed. He fell directly on another strut, crushing several vertebrae in his lower back. The spinal cord was crushed beyond repair. The doctors say that he will need a wheelchair the rest of his life, but he’s determined to learn to use an exoskeleton in low gravity.

Juna put the letter down. Alison sat beside her, and put an arm around her shoulder. Juna swallowed her tears and picked up the letter again.

Toivo is doing well, all things considered, but I’m concerned with his obsession to learn to use an exoskeleton and take up life in zero-gee. I hope it will pass, but you know how stubborn he is. Aunt Anetta has come to help out, and Toivo’s spouses have taken turns caring for him, as have the children. He married into a good family, dear, and I’m very glad for it. The children are taking it hard, though. I try to spend a lot of time with Danan and the little ones, when the farm isn’t keeping me busy. It’s hard managing without Toivo. Danan is trying to help, but he’s only eleven, and not yet strong enough to do the heavy work. I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to keep the vineyard going. I’m not as tough as I once was; a full day’s work takes a heavy toll at my age. Come home soon, dear. Your presence would help us all.

I love you,

There was a picture included with the letter. Toivo was sitting on the porch in his wheelchair; her father and Toivo’s son, Danan, stood on either side of him. In the distance, the family’s vineyards stretched up and away.

She put the letter down, and let the tears flow. Alison held her, patting her shoulder with that odd awkwardness that comes in the face of profound grief. When the first flood of anguish subsided, Juna held her arms out, spurs up.

“The Tendu could heal him,” she said, her voice hoarse from crying. “They could heal him.”

“Juna,” her old friend said gently, “the doctors tried everything. Too much of the cord was crushed for neural repair. ”

Juna shook her head.-"The Tendu could grow his spine back again. They could make it just like new. I can’t, not yet, but maybe if I studied hard with one of the enkar, I could learn how.”

There was a clatter of pots and pans in the galley. Alison glanced nervously over her shoulder.

“I should get back before they ruin dinner.” She peered at Juna. “Are you going to be all right?”

Juna nodded. “Thanks, Alison, I’ll be fine. Go on. I’m so glad you’re here!”

Alison gave her arm an affectionate squeeze, then headed for the galley.

“I’m sorry to hear about your brother,” Laurie said.

Juna managed a brief thank-you. It had been an emotional day. She was worn out, and there was still that language session with Dr. Tanguay.

“I think I want to go back to my quarters now.”

Juna felt a rush of relief as the lock door closed behind her. It was good to be alone. She stripped out of her suit and headed for the shower. The hot water felt wonderful against her tight, dry skin. Dad was right, they needed her back home—but she wouldn’t be home for months, perhaps as long as a year. And the Tendu needed her too. Juna sighed, got out, dried off, and ordered dinner. That done, she poured herself a glass of water, and stood sipping it, looking around the sterile cubicle. Her gaze fell on her computer. She should read her mail.

After the first three offers for her memoirs, she switched her mail scan to personal correspondence only, and caught up with her friends while she ate another of Alison’s glorious meals. Couscous this time, with fresh vegetables and chunks of lamb. The spices and the heat burned her aching throat, but it was so good to eat a hot meal again that she didn’t care.

Dr. Tanguay came by for her lesson. Juna stripped down to her briefs and began testing her knowledge of skin speech. As long as Juna spoke slowly, in large, simple, informal patterns, Dr. Tanguay could understand most of what she said. The translation device proved to be a large graphic slate, crammed to the gills with linguistic software. It was slow but workable. It disturbed Juna to realize how easily she could be replaced. It was hard to get used to the idea that she was going to have to share the Tendu with people who would never understand them as well as she did.

Her voice gave out after about half an hour, and they called a halt, agreeing to get together after the staff meeting tomorrow for another lesson. Juna drank a liter of water; the air in the room sucked the moisture out of her. She found the environmental controls and turned the humidity up as high as it would go. Then she crawled into bed. It was good to sleep in a real bed again? She was so tired that she fell asleep before she could repair her tired, aching throat.

She woke in the middle of the night in agony, her skin tight and aching, her throat burning with dryness. She stumbled into the shower stall and turned on the water, then crouched there, mouth open, letting the warm water stream down her throat. The warmth and moisture eased the dryness of her skin, and she felt better, except for a tight ache in the skin over her elbows and knees. She would have to speak to the medical staff about the humidity tomorrow. Surely something could be done to make the room more comfortable.

She climbed into bed again without drying off, letting the moisture from her body seep into the sheets so that the bed would be moist and comfortable. It would be a mess in the morning, but at the moment she didn’t care. She had spent years dreaming of cool, dry, clean sheets, and now all she wanted was to burrow into the rotting wet warmth of a Tendu bed.

Anitonen watched as the humans’ raft took Eerin away. Eerin waved, and Moki replied with a flash of brilliant colors, fading quickly back to deep grey. Anitonen glanced back at the floating island. New creatures moved over it like niku over a rotting log.