The Color of Distance

Chapter 26

I hat will be all for today, class,” Juna told her students in Standard.

“Thank you, teacher,” they responded before scattering back to their other work, or off to relax somewhere. Teaching Standard to the Tendu was hard, and would continue to be hard. She could give them facts, but none of them had any experience or context to put them into. Past a certain level of complexity, it was all nonsense to them. Still, she taught them as much as she could, hoping some of it would make sense as they learned more about humans. It was hard, frustrating work, and she was glad that they were leaving for Lyanan in a couple of days. Over the past four years, the villagers of Lyanan had become friends. It would be good to see them again.

Lyanan was also where she felt most connected with Earth. Juna closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the smell of clean sheets. She felt an almost sexual longing for simple human comforts, a bath, a hot meal, a bed with clean, dry linen. The thought of a conversation with another human being, or the touch of a warm human hand, made tears prick at the insides of her eyelids. Going to Lyanan reminded her of all the human things she tried so hard to forget the rest of the time. Forgetting was how she survived without going crazy.

Juna felt a touch on her arm. It was Moki. What was going to happen to him when her people came back? The question loomed larger as the time drew near. In the two months since the enkar examinations, she had encouraged Moki and Ukatonen to spend a lot of time together. Perhaps if the bond between the two of them was strong enough, her leaving would not tear Moki apart.

Juna reached up and took Moki’s hand. He knew she was thinking of her people again. She could read it on his skin. She looked away, fighting back a surge of guilt. She couldn’t help longing for her own species. It was as natural as Moki’s own intense need for his sitik.

She held her arms out, spurs up. They slid into a link. She tasted Moki’s fear, sharp and urgent, and he tasted her longing for her own people. Nothing he could do would ease that longing more than a little. She answered his fear with all the love she felt for him, but none of that could ease his worries about the future. The link settled into an uneasy equilibrium that was not the harmony they both longed for.

It was raining when they arrived at the village tree of Lyanan. Juna’s shoulders were chafed and sore, despite the padding of wet moss that lay between her skin and the pack straps. She looked forward to shedding her burden in a warm, dry room. Lalito emerged from the trunk as they descended toward the na tree’s massive, bowl-shaped crotch.

“You came very quickly. I sent the message about the new creatures only yesterday. They arrived two days ago. They’re staying on a great floating island off the coast.”

“They’re early. I didn’t expect them for another year, at least,” Juna said. A welter of conflicting emotions warred within her. She wanted to shuck her pack and race through the trees to see her people—and yet she also wanted to take Moki and hide in the mountains until the humans left. Juna thought of her alien skin, bald head, altered body, and she felt suddenly afraid. What would the humans think of her, looking like this? More importantly, what was she going to do to help her people and the Tendu achieve harmony? She had been so busy worrying about Moki and writing reports and field notes that she hadn’t thought about what she would do when the humans arrived. She wasn’t ready for this. If only she had more time!

Moki touched her arm. She reached down to embrace him, sudden tears welling in her eyes. She had longed for this day. Now, she wanted to turn back the clock. She wasn’t ready, and neither was Moki.

“We need to rest and talk before we go to meet the new creatures,” Ukatonen said.

They were shown to an empty guest room. Juna eased off her pack with a sigh of relief and sat down. Moki busied himself with unpacking their things, and directing the tinka who came bearing armloads of bedding and refreshments. He was trying to bury his grief in busywork. This was going to be very hard. She got up and touched her bami on the arm. They linked automatically, sliding inside each other. She was awash in Moki’s fear and grief, and her own sadness and guilt. They drifted inside each other’s pain for a long while, then slid out of the link.

“Oh, Moki. I—”

“There was nothing that you could do to change any of this,” he toil her. “It was all set in motion when you decided to save my life.”

“Should I have left you to die?”

Moki looked away. “No. Yes. I—I don’t know.”

Ukatonen touched them both on the shoulder. “It is pointless t; worry whether your decision was correct. You both must live with the consequences of your choices. We don’t have time for regrets and recriminations. Your people are there, Eerin. What should we do?”

“Go and meet them. Talk to them about the Tendu.”

“We need to discuss the damage they did the last time they were here,” Anitonen reminded her.

Juna inclined her head in a nod, and flickered agreement. “We should bring Lalito with us.”

“Yes. It’s late. We’re tired. It would be best to wait until tomorrow.’ Ukatonen suggested.

Juna looked away. “Yes. It would.” She felt oddly relieved to be putting off her meeting with the Survey.

Ukatonen touched her on the knee. “I’m sorry to make you wait. I know how much you want to see your people.”

Juna smiled. “It’s all right, en. I want to spend one more night with my friends before I go back to my people.”

It was a quiet night, full of reminiscences and bittersweet laughter. The four of them linked, sharing the nostalgia they felt. Ukatonen and Anitonen slipped out of the link first, leaving Juna alone with Moki, his sadness tempered now by the gentle peace of the evening. At last they moved together into an emotional equilibrium, lingering in the link, savoring the harmony they shared.

The Survey base rode at anchor, large and incongruous in the small bay. It was a large, flat rectangle, the color of a bereaved bami, and covered by a huge clear dome. Juna winced inwardly at the inauspicious color of the ship. She hoped it wasn’t an omen.

Anitonen touched her arm. “Look, there are new creatures moving around on it.”

Juna nodded. Several people were working on the deck. One, in an unsealed e-suit, stood on the observation deck with what appeared to be a pair of binoculars. She really should radio first, but the beacon was clear around the point from where they were, and she wanted to get this over with.

“I’m going down to the beach and let them know that I’m here.” Juna touched Moki on the arm. Their eyes met for a moment. “I’ll come back,” she promised.

Juna climbed to the ground and walked down the path to the edge of the cliff. She stood where she was plainly visible from the base, turned a bright yellow and orange, and swung her arms over her head. It would look odd to the Tendu watching from the trees, but it attracted the human’s attention. The lookout glanced up at the movement, startled, and put his binoculars to. his face. The lenses caught the bright morning sun and flashed back at her. She waved her arms once more, and then walked down the zigzag trail to the beach. An excited crowd gathered on the observation deck, pointing at her.

Juna reached the beach, and waited while they launched a boat, bearing two people in environment suits. They landed the boat about 150 meters down the beach. One of them stepped out of the beached boat, carrying a computer collapsed into the shape of a smooth white sphere. The Alien Contact people theorized it was the least threatening shape for contact purposes since it had no sharp edges.

Juna smiled. Ukatonen had used a stone about that size and shape to bash in the head of a tiakan last week. The AC people meant well, but they were all theory and no practice.

Juna glanced up at the trees, making sure that the Tendu had a clear view, and flushed blue to reassure them. The human trudged up the beach in his baggy white e-suit. Juna smiled, remembering the thousands of hours she had logged in those hellish suits.

He stopped about ten meters away from her and slowly set the computer down in the sand, then stood, arms held out from his body, palms forward, fingers spread.

Juna recognized the pose, and fought back a sudden laugh. This was the standard Alien Contact protocol that she had learned in the Survey. He didn’t recognize her. She looked down at herself, seeing her elongated hands and feet, her hairless alien skin that covered her nipples and her navel, and flickered with silent blue and green laughter.

I probably wouldn’t recognize myself if I saw me in the mirror right now, she thought.

The human was standing there, in that goofy low-threat pose, looking like a large, dumpy penguin. It was too much to resist. She stepped forward hesitantly, peering at the man in front of her as though she had never seen someone in an e-suit before. She paused about three meters away, and squatted on the sand. She could see his face framed by the recording instrumentation of the suit. He looked vaguely familiar to her. but she couldn’t place him.

He smoothed the sand in front of him and set down a bright, shiny gold sphere. Juna rippled in amusement. What would the Tendu have made of something shaped like a lizard egg, the color of someone in heat?

She moved forward to pick up the sphere and made a great show of examining it, smelling it, shaking it to see if it rattled, rubbing it on her skin, and tasting it. Then she put it back down on the sand in front of her.

“I believe the correct line is ‘Dr. Livingstone, I presume?’ ” she croaked, her voice husky and hoarse from disuse. “I’m Juna Saari. The real Tendu are up there in the trees, watching us.”

“Oh shit!” he exclaimed, staggering back. Even through his helmet, the look of surprise on his face was very satisfying.

“Well, that’s one that won’t go down in the history books,” Juna said.

“I’m very sorry,” he said, recovering himself. “I’m Dr. Daniel Bremen, expedition head with the Unity Dow Mara. I’m honored to meet you. ”

“No wonder you looked familiar. I’ve seen your Tri-V shows.”

“I’m glad you liked them. It’s always a pleasure to meet a fan in an out-of-the-way place.”

Actually, Juna disliked Bremen’s shows. They oversimplified many important concepts, and ignored others entirely, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. She needed to work with him to build bridges with the Tendu. She wondered how a Tri-V celeb had wound up heading the expedition.

“Before I did the Universalities series for Edu-Net, I was the head of Alien Contact Studies Department at UCLA,” he explained, as if anticipating her question. “The Survey felt that my celebrity status would help make this trip more accessible to a wider audience.”

It made sense. The Survey was chronically short on funding. They wanted someone along who could make the most of this historic event.

“I wasn’t expecting the Survey to get here so soon,” Juna said.

“The Tendu are an important discovery. They inhabit a biological treasure house. Some of the new proteins and complex organic molecules are opening up whole new possibilities in medical and chemical research. So far, we’ve derived two new antibiotics effective against resistant diseases and a nonaddictive painkiller more effective than morphine, from materials collected during the first mission. And then there’s you.”

“Me?” Juna asked, suddenly wary.

“You’re the only human known to have survived continued exposure to a life-bearing alien planet. If we could find out how you survived, it might open up whole new worlds to colonization. The best doctors in the Survey are falling all over themselves to study you.”

“I’m sure they are,” Juna said dryly. She dreaded the prospect of being a research subject.

“After we’ve made contact with the aliens, we’ll return to the base for a briefing. If I’d known that it was you out on the beach, I’d have brought your debriefing team. As it is, I’m sure that they’ll be waiting aboard ship. They’re very eager to talk to you.”

Juna wondered why the debriefing team hadn’t come with him anyway. Had Bremer* pulled rank on them? If so, she was relieved that he’d come alone. She wasn’t ready for an intense grilling.

“Can I get a decent meal and a hot bath before the debriefing? It’s been four and a half years since I’ve had either,” she said.

“I’ll talk to the base commander and make sure that they’re ready for you. But first, could you show me the aliens?” he asked eagerly.

“Of course, Dr. Bremen. This way.”

The cool gloom of the jungle felt good after standing for so long under the brilliant sun.

“Wait here. I’ll go get the Tendu,” she said, then turned and scrambled up the tree. Bremen stared after her, amazed. Ukatonen, Anitonen, and Lalito met her as she reached the middle level of the canopy. Moki followed behind them hesitantly, his skin grey with grief.

“Well?” Anitonen asked her.

“They’ve only sent one person. Dr. Bremen is his name. He wants to meet you. Then I have to go out to the big raft and talk to my people.”

They climbed down the tree, where Bremen waited.

“You climb like a monkey, Dr. Saari,” he said.

“I’ve had to live in the trees for the last four years. I got a lot of practice.” She gestured at the aliens. “This is Ukatonen and Anitonen. They’re enkar. You’ve read about them in my notes, I assume.”

Bremen nodded.

“And this is Lalito, the chief elder of the village of Lyanan.”

Bremen frowned. “Yes, I read about how badly treated you were by her village.”

“That was a long time ago,” Juna reassured him. “Since then, my relationship with the villagers has significantly improved.”

“Please translate this for me,” Bremen said. “ ‘I bring peaceful greetings from all of mankind to your people. I hope our two peoples will grow and prosper together. Thank you for taking such good care of Dr. Saari for us.’ ”

Juna translated his message into Tendu skin speech. She made her words big, so that any villagers watching the talks from concealment could see what she was saying.

Anitonen stepped forward and shook Bremen’s hand, human-style. “Greetings, Dr. Bremen,” Anitonen spelled out in Standard. “We look forward to negotiating with your people.”

Dr. Bremen’s eyebrows lifted inside his helmet.

“Both Anitonen and Ukatonen are reasonably fluent in written Standard,” Juna explained. “I thought it might prove useful during our discussions.”

Moki slipped between-the two enkar, and leaned against Juna, putting an arm around her hips. Juna thought she saw a flicker of shock cross Bremen’s features, quickly hidden. She laid her arm around Moki’s shoulders.

“And this is Moki, my bami,” she spelled out in Standard. “He understands written Standard too.”

“Your adopted child,” Bremen said, his face carefully neutral.

“Yes,” Juna said. “I saved his life.”

“I remember that from your journal. It was very moving. It broke every alien contact protocol in the book, though.”

Juna shrugged. “I think Moki will become an important link between our two peoples. He’s already more fluent in skin speech Standard than any of the other Tendu.”

Ukatonen touched her shoulder. “We should set a formal time for us to begin negotiations,” he said in Tendu. “Lyanan has been waiting a long time for reparations. They are obligated to many others for helping repair the damage caused by your people.”

“Perhaps we could start tomorrow. That will give me time to meet the other humans and talk to them,” Juna replied in skin speech.

“What are you saying?” Dr. Bremen asked her. “I only understand a little Tendu.”

“Ukatonen wants to begin discussing the reparations owed to Lyanan for the damage the Survey did to their forest. I suggested that we begin preliminary talks tomorrow. That will give us time for a briefing.”

Bremen radioed the ship, and received an agreement to proceed with the talks. “Very well, then. What time?”

They agreed to meet by the top of the cliff path at noon, and then it was time to go.

Moki looked at her expectantly. She embraced him. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she reassured him. “Go with Ukatonen and be good.”

Moki nodded and held out his arms for allu-a. Torn, Juna glanced up at Dr. Bremen. She was sure that they already suspected her of going native. Linking with Moki would only confirm that.

Juna squatted down so that she was eye to eye with him. “Moki, this isn’t a good time for allu-a. I’ll try to link with you tomorrow. You should link with Ukatonen while I’m gone. He’s going to be your sitik when I leave. You should start to get used to that now.”

Moki shook his head and looked away. “No! You are my sitik,” he insisted.

“Oh, Moki.” Juna rested her forehead against his and sighed. “We’ve known this day was coming for a long time. I’m sorry, but this is the way it has to be.” She brushed his shoulder and stood, her skin deep grey with grief and anguish.

She glanced at Ukatonen. He put his hand on Moki’s arm. “It’s time to go,” he said gently.

“It was good to meet you Dr. Bremen,” Ukatonen said in Standard.

Moki followed Ukatonen with obvious reluctance. He gave Juna a long, pleading look, then climbed into the canopy and vanished into the forest with the enkar. Juna looked after the Tendu as they left, longing to go with them, but someone needed to bridge the gap between the Tendu and humans. Suddenly she understood some of what it must be like to be an enkar, unable to be close to anyone. This was not going to be easy.

She looked over at Dr. Bremen. He was watching her curiously. She wiped away the tears, suddenly and irrationally angry at him for his ignorant alienness.

“Let’s go,” she said, leading him back to the beach.

“Dr. Saari, the galley wants to know what you would like to eat. Oh, and the chef says that they have two cases of Chateau ad Astra.”

Juna stumbled in surprise. Her father’s wine. Somehow, they had gotten some of her father’s wine.

“Do they have a bottle of the ’24 Chardonnay?”

“She says there are six bottles of it in one of the cases.”

Joy rose in her heart like a soaring seabird. The entire run of ’24 Chardonnay, only twenty-five cases, had been bottled in a nitrogen atmosphere, aged to perfection and stored in their wine vault, reserved for the family’s personal use. Somehow her father had gotten two cases of his own personal stock on board for her.

“What would the chef recommend with the Chardonnay?” Juna asked.

“She has some flash frozen Copper River king salmon, which she ordered specially to be eaten with this wine.”

“Please thank the chef for me,” Juna said, as if she ordered dinner like this all the time. She fought back a wave of hysterical laughter. It was suddenly all too much, a gourmet meal with her father’s wine, a hot bath and clean sheets. It felt unreal; dreamlike.

“Your chef sounds rather different from the usual Survey cooks,” she observed.

“The crew says they’ve never eaten this well during a mission,” Bremen said. “She volunteered for the trip. Her credentials were excellent, so I approved her request. It’s done amazing things for crew morale.” He laughed. “Our mother ship, the Kctiwo Maru, keeps pleading with us to send her back, but the ground crew would kill me if I did.”

They had reached the boat.

“Welcome back, Dr. Saari,” the woman operating the boat said. She stepped out of the boat and shook Juna’s hand.

“Thank you,” she said. This was the first human contact she’d had in four-and-a-half years; it took her a moment to let go.

Bremen introduced the woman. “Dr. Saari, this is Dr. Guralnick, one of the Survey’s top xenobotanists.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Juna said. Guralnick was a tall, slender woman with green eyes. Wisps of silver hair were visible around the edges of her faceplate. She moved gracefully despite her baggy e-suit.

Juna noticed a couple of sampling bags lying in the bottom of the boat, and smiled. “You’ve been busy, I see.”

Guralnick looked embarrassed. “It’s just some stuff I picked up along the beach. I hope the Tendu don’t mind.”

Juna shook her head. “They won’t miss this. Just don’t destroy any live plants or animals until we’ve negotiated with the villagers about what you can collect. I’ll go over your samples with you later and identify as much of it as I can.”

“That would be wonderful,” Guralnick said. “Thank you, Dr. Saari.”

“Please, call me Juna.”

“Only if you’ll call me Kay.”

“We should be going. They’re waiting for us on the base,” Dr. Bremen said.

Juna climbed into the sturdy little landing craft. Kay pushed the boat off the beach, came aboard, and started the quiet little hydrogen-powered motor.

Juna looked back at the jungle as they swung away. She turned a deep, reassuring blue, and raised a hand in farewell to the Tendu. She thought she saw a flicker of color in return as the shoreline receded from view, and remembered her last sight of Moki, looking at her reproachfully as he followed Ukatonen up the tree.

She looked away, her skin cloudy with sadness. “Oh Moki,” she thought to herself. There was a touch on her shoulder. Kay’s gloved hand was resting there. The gesture seemed very Tendu to Juna.

“You looked sad, there,” Kay told her sympathetically.

Juna nodded, but couldn’t think of a reply.

“Could you—” Kay looked embarrassed. “Could you say something in Tendu?”

Juna sat up and began the chant of the birds from the quarbirri of the animal spirits. The visual nonsense rhyme was one of the prettiest pieces of skin speech that she knew.

“That’s beautiful,” Kay said when Juna had finished. “What did you just say?”

“It’s a list of bird species from a Tendu performance piece called a quarbirri.”

“I’d like to tape that sometime,” Bremen said.

Juna shrugged. “You should see someone like Naratonen do the piece. He’s one of the best artists the Tendu have. It probably wouldn’t be hard to get permission to film it. Naratonen was always borrowing my computer to watch the quarbirri I recorded, so he understands the concept of filming something.”

“You let one of the natives borrow your computer?” Bremen asked with a frown. “That’s a violation of the Contact Protocols.”

“Dr. Bremen, I had a choice,” Juna replied, suppressing a sudden flicker of irritation. “I could have obeyed the Contact Protocols, or I could have survived. I chose to survive. It was impossible for a person in my situation to adhere to the Protocols.”

“Those protocols are the result of decades of careful thought and research,” Bremen replied.

“They were developed on the basis of our experience with the Sawaki-rans, Doctor. The Tendu are not the Sawakirans. They’re much more sophisticated and outgoing. The protocols, as written, don’t work here.”

“We’re nearly there,” Kay said, touching her on the knee.

Kay slowed the boat as they swung into the looming shadow of the floating Survey base. The boat glided toward a floating dock. Juna leaped to the dock and held out her hands for the bow line. Bremen tossed her the line, his dark eyebrows arced high in surprise. She secured it to a duraplast cleat, then secured the stern line.

Bremen stepped onto the dock. “That was quite a jump!” he said.

“Was it?” Juna replied.

“We were two meters out from the dock and still moving! There’s a sizable swell, too.”

Juna looked from the dock to the boat. She hadn’t even thought about it. They had gotten within range and she had just jumped.

“I spend most of my time thirty meters in the air, jumping from tree to tree. I make jumps harder than that every day,” she said. “I have to, to keep up with the others.”

“Aren’t you terrified?” Kay asked.

“I was at first, but I got used to it. It wasn’t like I had much choice. Besides"—she held out her hand so they could see the ridged gripping surfaces on her palm and her elongated fingers—"the Tendu modified me so it was easier to hang on.” She arched her nail-less fingers, extending her claws. Bremen blanched and backed away. Kay leaned forward to take a closer look.

“We’d better go. They’re waiting for us up top,” Bremen said.

Kay scooped another couple of sealed specimen bags from the bottom of the boat. “Could you help me carry these, Juna?”

Juna stepped forward to take the bags from Kay. “Be careful with Bremen,” the botanist said in a low, cautious whisper. “He wields a lot of power here.”

Juna nodded, flickering acknowledgment out of habit. “Thanks, Kay,” she whispered back, tucking the bags under her arm. “After you, Dr. Bremen,” she said, as she and Kay approached the end of the dock, where the Tri-V celebrity waited impatiently for them.

They walked up the long, steep stairway from the dock to a middeck hatchway. People pressed against the plexi outer shell, craning their necks to look at her. She suddenly realized that she was completely naked. Her skin darkened to a deep, embarrassed brown, and she faltered in her climb.

Bremen waved at the staring onlookers, and looked back expectantly at Juna. She managed a tentative wave. The crowd cheered in reply, though the sound was cut off by the plexi dome.

“I didn’t expect so many people,” Juna said as Bremen drew ahead.

“It’s a big expedition,” Kay told her. “One of the biggest ever mounted by the Survey. Every A-C spec with any kind of pull at all is up there. There’s a whole team of different specialists assigned to study you. It’s amazing that there’s any kind of room at all for biologists, zoologists, and botanists. There’s a lot of politics here. I’d bear that in mind, if I were you.”

“Thanks, Kay,” Juna said, grateful for the information, and wishing that she’d thought more about what to do when the Survey returned.

Kay shrugged, the motion barely visible through the suit. “C’est rien… You let me keep the samples. I just thought you should have some warning before you’re thrown to the lions.”

They reached the top of the stairs. Bremen was waiting for them at the airlock.

“I’m to escort you through decontamination procedures, Dr. Saari,” he told her, holding open the airlock door. Juna stepped through into the airlock. She glanced back at the verdant, hilly coastline, feeling a sudden surge of longing. Bremen pulled the heavy door closed with a muffled thud, shutting out the alien world. Juna closed her eyes for a moment and breathed deeply, smelling the newly familiar scents of plastic, paint, and metal. She was ameng humans again.

She opened her eyes. Bremen was holding out a brand new e-suit, still in its original packaging.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to wear this when you’re not in quarantine.”

“I see.”

Juna took the e-suit, her moist fingers clinging to the plastic, feeling oddly sad and hurt. She slit the plastic wrapper with a claw and shook out the suit. It was her size, but the gloves and boots were too small for her elongated hands and feet. Kay helped her rig temporary coverings out of specimen bags, sealing them with repair tape.

Bremen stepped through into the disinfectant shower that hosed off his e-suit, and then into the next airlock. Juna followed him through the series of washings and rinsings designed to clean off every trace of the world outside. She felt silly going through decontamination in her e-suit, but it was necessary. Bremen was waiting for her by the elevator that would take them up to the top deck. He was freshly groomed and ready for the cameras. Juna was impressed. She always emerged from decon looking like a drowned rat.

“Ready?” he asked. “The Tri-V people are waiting for us. It’s a big moment.”

Suddenly she was glad for the suit. It would shelter her from the cold, mechanical eyes of the Tri-V cameras.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Kay?”

He shook his head. “She has all those samples to process. It’ll take her a while.”

Bremen pushed the button and the elevator doors opened. He motioned Juna inside with a showman’s gesture, and stepped in after her. The tension mounted during the elevator’s slow climb. By the time the elevator slid to a stop, Juna felt as though only the e-suit kept her from exploding. She took a deep breath and shut her eyes, reaching inside herself for the bio-manipulation skills she had learned from the Tendu She exhaled, pushing the tension out of her body, and opened her eye; Bremen held the elevator door open, waiting for her.

She stepped out of the elevator, fighting a returning surge of excitement. Bremen took her arm and escorted her through the open bay doors and into an enthusiastic mob. They cheered loudly as she emerged.

Bremen led her to a balcony overlooking the main deck and handed her a mike. She stared at it for a moment, then plugged it into her suit She was crying, her nose was running, and she couldn’t wipe it. The defogging fan started up, blowing air across her face plate. She sniffled and was embarrassed to hear it reverberate over the crowd.

“Thank you. I—” She paused awkwardly. “I wasn’t expecting such a reception. It’s good to be back among my own people again.”

“Tell us about the Tendu,” someone shouted from the crowd.

“What’s it like out there without a suit?”

Suddenly, there was an avalanche of questions. She looked down at the crowd of faces and felt a sudden wave of panic at the sight of all these people. She looked at Bremen. He stepped forward, holding up his hands.

“Dr. Saari just got here. Give her time, and she’ll answer all your questions. We’ve promised her a good meal and a hot shower. Since she hasn’t had either for more than four years, I don’t want to delay her any longer. I suggest you post your questions on the net for now. Once Dr Saari’s been debriefed, we’ll arrange some kind of forum for everyone.”

Juna unplugged her mike and handed it to Bremen. He led her through another door, where they were greeted by a group of people wearing unsealed e-suits. A slender, elegant, white-haired Eurasian man stepped forward. Juna’s eyes widened in surprise when she recognized him. Dr. Wu had been one of the chief researchers at Sawakira. She was amazed that he was still alive, and even more amazed that a man of his age had passed the physical and made it onto a Survey mission.

“Thank you, Dr. Bremen,” he said. “I’m Dr. Paul Wu, head of the Alien Contact team, and this is the rest of the preliminary debriefing team.”

“I’m honored to meet you, Dr. Wu,” Juna said. “I’ve heard so much about your work with the Sawakirans.” She reached out to shake his hand, then remembered that her hands were covered in plastic bags, and stopped.

He smiled and bowed, a gesture that should have seemed archaic and stilted but was, instead, both formal and warm.

“And I am honored to meet you, Dr. Saari. We were intending to meet you with a full debriefing team, but Dr. Bremen found you instead.”

Juna nodded. “Thank you, Dr. Wu. It’s good to be back.”

He turned to introduce her to the rest of the debriefing team. Her eyes widened as she recognized Antonio Miyata. He had been her research ;ctor on her first Survey mission, and had taken an active interest in career.

“’Tonio! It’s good to see you!” Juna said, putting her hands on his HM1S. “How long has it been? Six years? Seven?”

“Seven,” he confirmed. “A long time. I saw your log. It was impressive.”

Juna smiled. “I had a good teacher.” Tonio had taken her in hand[[ ,-n]] her first mission, and taught her most of what she knew about field research.

“Thank you,” he said. “You were a good student. I want to hear all about your time here, when you have the chance.”

“Sure, Tonio, that would be great,” she replied.

“The debriefing team will meet with you at 1700 ship time. That’s about four hours from now,” Wu said, seeing Juna’s look of confusion. She hadn’t noticed what time it was. “Before we begin the debriefing though, we need to give you a thorough physical.”

He left her in the care of the medics, who escorted her to quarantine. They sent her through the airlock into her new quarters with a urine cup and instructions to provide them with a specimen.

She looked around her new room. It was a hospital room, clean and sterile with hard, easy-to-disinfect surfaces. There was a tiny, economical bathroom with a shower. She sighed regretfully. A tub bath would have to wait.

Juna put on the hospital gown that had been laid out for her. She pulled the top sheet back on the bed, and ran her hand over the clean linens. A real bed. Going to sleep tonight would be something to savor. Then she picked up the urine cup and headed for the bathroom. She dutifully peed in the cup, and then flushed the toilet for the sheer pleasure of hearing working plumbing.

When she emerged from the bathroom the doctors were waiting for her. They took the urine specimen from her with a nod of approval.

“Are these the allu that you wrote so much about?” one doctor asked, probing the spur on her forearm. Juna winced and pulled away.

“Yes it is, Doctor, but please be careful, they’re very sensitive.”

“Could you show us some of its functions?” the doctor asked.

“All right,” she said.

She picked up a scalpel from the tray of medical implements and made a long cut on the back of her arm.

The doctors and nurses gasped in astonishment and moved towarc her.

“Wait!” she commanded, holding out her wounded arm. She focuses her attention on the wound. The blood trickling down her arm and dripping to the floor slowed, then stopped. One of the doctors grabbed a petr. dish and collected some of the blood as it fell. Juna held the edges of the cut together, and felt the skin knit.

“Doctor, would you please wash away the blood on my arm?”

He did so. All that was left of the cut was a pale line on her arm. The doctors crowded around to look at the healed cut.

“I’ve read everything*you’ve written about those spurs,” one of therr. remarked, “but it’s different, seeing it actually work.”

After examining the healed cut, the doctors gave her a painfully thorough medical examination. They took samples of everything: blood, skir. feces, saliva, vaginal fluids, bone marrow, and biopsies of her human/alier skin interface from several places in and on her body. It was grueling anc humiliating, and the energy it took to repair the damage they did drainec her further.

Juna’s stomach growled. She was hungry and it was getting late. “Are there any more tests you need to perform? Dr. Bremen promised me a hot meal and a hot shower. I haven’t had either one for a long time. Besides healing that cut took a lot of energy. I need food to replace it.”

“We’ll do the rest of the tests later,” they told her.

“Thank you,” Juna said, turning lavender with relief.

One of the doctors picked up the phone and called out.

“I’ve told the kitchen you’re ready for your meal,” he said as he hung up. “The chef says that your dinner will be delivered in half an hour.”

“How soon till the quarantine is lifted?” Juna asked.

“That will depend on the results of our tests. Soon, I hope.”

The doctors gathered up their samples and instruments, and filed out. leaving her alone. She felt isolated and out of place in this sterile, empty room. The Tendu suddenly seemed very far away.

“Well,” she said to the empty room. “Well.”

There was a scratching sound off in one corner. It was a white mouse in a small cage. As she watched, it climbed onto its exercise wheel. The wheel turned, creaking faintly. Juna smiled. She was not entirely alone.

She lightly touched the bars of the cage and murmured reassuringly at the mouse. She hoped it would survive being in quarantine with her. It was here to test whether or not her presence would kill it.

She took a long, glorious shower, as hot as she could stand it. Unfortunately, the soap stung her sensitive alien skin, so she settled for a good hard scrub with a washcloth. After toweling off, she slipped into a clean, dry uniform. It was good to be back, she thought, smiling contentedly. Now all she needed was a solid meal under her belt and she’d be ready for anything.

As if in reply to her wish, the door buzzer sounded. When the status light on the door turned green, she opened it. Inside the airlock was a cart with a covered tray. She wheeled the cart into the room, set the tray on her table, sat down, and removed the cover.

The meal was beautifully presented on spotless linens and fine china: a fillet of salmon, steaming hot with a light covering of dill cream sauce, accompanied by fresh orange chanterelle mushrooms, pickled baby carrots, and spinach, served Nippon style, compressed into tight rolls and then sliced. All her favorites. Her eyes misted over.

The salmon was perfectly done. Juna closed her eyes, savoring its subtle aroma. Then she reached for the half-bottle of wine, cradled in a napkin to keep it from rolling off the tray. As she undid the napkin, a note fell out. She picked it up.

“Welcome back,” it read. “I couldn’t miss this trip, so I signed on as cook. Stop by the galley when you get a chance. I have news of your family. Alison.”

Tears stung Juna’s eyes, blurring the familiar handwriting. Alison was here. She was responsible for bringing her father’s wine aboard.

She picked up the chardonnay and read the familiar label. Looking at it, she felt her father’s rough hands on hers, showing her how and where to prune the vines, his patient voice lecturing her on the growth habits of grapes.

She opened the bottle and poured her father’s wine. It tasted as clean and sharp as she remembered it, but there were a host of more subtle notes that she’d never noticed before. She took another sip, remembering the vineyard stretching out away from their tiny, formally landscaped yard. Not an inch of growing space was wasted. Even the porch posts supported wine grapes. She pictured her father, sitting in his favorite cane-bottomed rocking chair, white-haired, skin reddened and seamed from decades of working in the sun. He was nearly ninety now, getting old enough for her to worry about the possibility of his dying before she saw him again. She hoped Alison had good news.

Her stomach growled. She blinked back tears with a laugh. Her magnificent dinner was getting cold. She picked up her fork and started eating.

When she finished, she wheeled the cart over to the door and pushed it into the airlock, activating the inorganic disinfect cycle. She had another fifteen minutes to kill before her debriefing.

She went over and looked at the mouse in its cage. It stared at h-; She held out her fingers. The mouse sniffed at them curiously for a m. ment, then went back to eating a sunflower seed. It looked healthy ar active, a good sign. Usually test animals died within a few hours of exp sure. If it survived till tomorrow, she would try to see if it would let h-. pick it up.

The phone on the wall chimed politely. Juna picked it up with a smile She hadn’t spoken over the phone to anyone for years. “Hello?”

“Dr. Saari? This is D Wu. I was wondering if you were ready for the debriefing.”

“As soon as I climb into my suit, sir.”

“Good. I’ll come by in about ten minutes to escort you.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll be ready.”

Juna put on her suit and went through the decontamination procedures. Then she tried to get the airlock to cycle and let her out, but it wouldn’t respond to her commands. Just as she was starting to panic, the fans switched on and the lock began cycling. Wu was waiting outside for her.

“I’m sorry if I kept you waiting, Dr. Wu. I couldn’t get the airlock to cycle. I’ll have to notify the medical staff and let them know it isn’t working properly.”

“You’re in quarantine, Dr. Saari. I’m afraid that the airlock won’t open for you.”

“Oh,” Juna said. She looked down, embarrassed. In her excitement at being back among her own people, she had forgotten the Survey’s quarantine procedures. “How soon will I be let out of quarantine?”

“I’m afraid that it may be some time. We need to prove conclusively that you are not a danger to others.”

“I see.” She swallowed, her throat suddenly tight. It was a reasonable precaution. She understood the need for the restrictions, but it hurt to have them enforced after all she had been through.

“If I’m going to do my job, I’ll need access to the rest of the ship,” Juna pointed out.

“Please, Dr. Saari, let us discuss this at the debriefing. Perhaps the others will be able to work out some kind of compromise.”

“Very well, Dr. Wu.”

The meeting was held in a standard conference room, spartan and functional, with a wide table of plasteel. Most of the department heads were already seated. Juna recognized Morale Officer Mei Mei Chang, sit ting near the head of the table, and her heart sank. Chang stood and extended her hand to Juna.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Saari. Do you remember me?”

“Of course I remember you, Officer Chang. It’s a pleasure to see you again,” Juna lied smoothly, as she reached out to shake Chang’s hand.

“Welcome back to the Survey, Dr. Saari,” Chang said.

Juna looked around the table. She recognized Bremen, Miyata, Wu, and Dr. Baker, the head of the medical team that had examined her. The rest were still strangers to her. The captain of the ship was present too, a thin woman with short salt-and-pepper hair dressed in the black and silver uniform of the Space Service.

When the last chair was filled, Wu stood. “Thank you all for coming. We’re here to begin your debriefing, Dr. Saari. Before we get started, I’d like to introduce you to some of the people you haven’t met yet: Captain Edison.” The captain inclined her head. “Dr. Agelou, head of psychology.” A thin, nervous-looking man with a small fussy goatee nodded to her. “Dr. Holmes, who is in charge of biochemistry; Dr. Tanguay, who is in charge of alien linguistics, and Dr. Nazarieff, in charge of resource management.”

“Thank you, Dr. Wu.” Juna smiled at the team members. “I’m afraid it will take me a little while to learn all of your names. Please be patient with me.”

“Welcome back, Dr. Saari,” Wu said formally. “On behalf of all of us, I want to apologize for the circumstances that led to your being left behind. I also want to thank you for the copious and detailed log of your sojourn among the Tendu. We spent three months in orbit cataloguing, cross-referencing, and studying it. Everyone is full of questions about your observations, but the first item on our agenda is to discuss the Survey’s negotiating position and to determine your role in those negotiations.”

“I had expected to act as a negotiator and translator,” Juna said.

“You don’t have any formal training or experience in diplomatic negotiation,” Bremen pointed out.

“No, but I’ve worked with Anitonen and Ninto as they studied to become enkar. I’ve gone through negotiations with the people of Lyanan and Narmolom. I understand the Tendu better than any other human. They know me and trust me. It would be foolish to throw away that kind of advantage.”

“Yes, it would,” Wu agreed. “And we’re not planning to do so. However, we need to work out some kind of framework that utilizes the diplomatic training of our Alien Contact people as well as your irreplaceable on-the-ground experience. We want to avoid violating the Contact Protocols any further.”

“I see,” Juna said, relieved by Wu’s reassurances.

“We have revised the protocols, based on the information in your log. However, there are several situations whose implications must be considered. There is your adopted child, Moki. What will happen to him after you leave? Will your relationship with him affect the negotiations? Then there is the physical linking known as allu-a. How has that affected your psychology? How will that affect your ability to negotiate? Dr. Agelou wants to perform an in-depth psychological evaluation to determine this. And then there are the countless other violations, committed while you were trying to survive in that difficult and challenging environment. How have they affected the Tendu? All of these questions must be considered.”

“Ukatonen has agreed to adopt Moki,” Juna said, “but we are very worried that Moki will not accept him as his sitik.” She sighed, a flicker of ochre concern crossing her skin. “I have been encouraging him to spend more time with Ukatonen, to ease the shock of my departure, but you arrived earlier than I expected. As it stands now, only time will tell whether Moki accepts Ukatonen as his sitik. If Moki rejects Ukatonen, then Ukatonen will commit suicide. It is what an enkar must do if he makes an unwise judgment.” She looked down at the plasteel table, remembering Ilto’s crushed body lying on the floor of the forest.

“As for allu-a,” Juna continued, “I don’t believe that it is harmful to the negotiations. In fact, it could be a considerable help, since it will reinforce the truth of what I am saying. Lying is impossible in allu-a.”

“I’m not sure that is entirely an advantage, Dr. Saari,” Wu told her.

“Dr. Wu,” Juna said, “we must negotiate with the Tendu in good faith. We can’t build a lasting agreement with the Tendu unless they trust us.”

“Even so, there are times when even truth is conditional. Do you intend to share your private knowledge of the details of an agreement with the Tendu?”

“Allu-a isn’t a psychic link,” Juna explained. “It appears to be an exquisitely detailed reading of the participants’ physiological state, imparting to each one a deep, empathic understanding of the other’s emotions. I won’t be giving away any state secrets, Dr. Wu. The Tendu can’t get any hard information from allu-a. However, they will be able to tell how I feel about an agreement. They will know if I have any doubts about it.”

“I see,” Wu said, looking down at the table. Juna could tell he wasn’t convinced.

“Dr. Wu,” she said, rising. “I want to create an agreement that will bring our two people into harmony. To do that, both sides need to trust each other. That trust has to start somewhere. I will need to link with the Tendu in order to maintain their trust. I need to spend time with Moki, to help him get used to Ukatonen as his sitik. You will have to trust my judgment in these matters. I can’t negotiate for you if you don’t trust me.” She paused and looked around the table at the faces watching her. “Currently I can’t get out of quarantine unless someone lets me out. I am effectively a prisoner. I need access to both the Tendu and to the researchers and negotiators on board ship. I understand the need to maintain quarantine, but I can’t do my job unless I have more freedom of movement.”

Captain Edison stood. “Dr. Saari, would you be willing to accept a security escort when you are wandering around the ship? You would, of course, have to wear an e-suit to maintain quarantine, but you could meet with whomever you needed to.”

“How long would I need a security escort, Captain?”

“Dr. Agelou will be doing a complete psych profile on you, Dr. Saari. If he feels that you aren’t a security risk, I would be willing to suspend the escort.” The captain turned to Dr. Agelou. “How long will it take you to complete your profile, Doctor?”

Dr. Agelou shrugged. “Perhaps as soon as a week, depending on our schedules. Maybe somewhat longer.”

“Well?” the captain asked.

“Thank you, Captain Edison, I think that’s a very reasonable solution,” Juna responded, relieved to have solved at least one of her problems.

“I will allow you to continue linking with the Tendu, pending further developments,” Wu said. “However, if there are any indications that it is interfering with the negotiations, or causing cultural damage to the Tendu, then you will have to stop.”

“Thank you, Dr. Wu.” Relief washed over Juna in a wave, turning her skin pale lavender. “Thank you.”

Glancing up, she noticed several of the staff members staring, and realized that they could see her color changes through the helmet of the e-suit. She flushed leaf-brown with embarrassment, which only made matters worse.

Dr. Bremen rose. “I think it’s time we moved on.”

“My staff is eager to get some hands-on experience with the Tendu, as are all the other researchers on board ship. How soon can you get us permission to go ashore?” Wu asked.

“That may take some time,” Juna said. “The Tendu are waiting to see how we handle the problem of reparations to Lyanan. We may have to deal with that first. Then we can work out the conditions under which we can conduct research in the Tendu’s forests.”

“Is there any way to negotiate some limited research while we work out the reparation agreement?” Bremen asked.

“I don’t know, Dr. Bremen. I’ll see what I can do. You must remember all of you, that the Tendu have a very different approach to time than we do. This may take a while. Until we resolve this, I’ll be happy to conduct seminars on what I have learned, whenever I can.” She held up her hands in a gesture of helplessness. “I know it’s not much, but it’s all we can do.”

“Do you have any recommendations on negotiation strategy, Dr. Saari?”

“We should definitely take a gift,” Juna said. “Something that doesn’t violate the protocols. A good sturdy coil of hemp rope would be ideal.”

“Do we have some rope?” Bremen asked Captain Edison.

“I believe so. We included a fairly wide stock of possible trade goods, based on what we knew about the culture from the information Dr. Saan downloaded to the Kotani Maru.”

“Good,” Juna said. “The hard part will be explaining the Contact Protocols to Lalito, the chief elder of Lyali. She would be insulted to find out that we’re coddling her. Does anyone have any suggestions?”

The meeting bogged down in a long and complicated wrangle over negotiating strategies. Nothing was decided, and at last Wu called a halt.

“One more thing, before we wind up the meeting, Dr. Saari,” Wu said. “Your time is going to be in very high demand. I’d like to assign Dr. Tanguay to you as your assistant. She is more fluent in Tendu than anyone else on board ship, besides yourself, and she’s eager to learn as much as she can.”

Juna looked at the small, dark woman. Wu was right. She needed an assistant. “Thank you, Dr. Wu,” she said gratefully. “I’m sure Dr. Tanguay will be a great help.”

The meeting broke up, and Dr. Tanguay came over to talk Juna.

“I’m honored to be working with you, Dr. Saari,” she said. “How soon can you start teaching me more skin speech?”

Juna smiled at the woman’s eagerness. “Perhaps tonight, after dinner. Say 2100 hours? I’m afraid that you’ll have to come to my quarters. You can’t see my skin in this suit.”

“That would be fine. I’ll bring my computer. You can tell me whether you think the visual interface we’re using will work.”

“Good. I’ll see you then,” Juna said.

“Dr. Saari?” Captain Edison said, as they left the room. “I wanted to take this opportunity to personally welcome you back to the Survey.” She shook Juna’s hand admiringly. “It must have been an incredible four years,” she added with a wistful note in her voice.

“It was, Captain, it was.”

“I hope you can tell me more about it, sometime.”

A tall, rangy red-haired woman in an ensign’s uniform came up and saluted the captain.

“Dr. Saari, this is Ensign Laurie Kipp. She’ll be your security escort.”

Juna shook Ensign Kipp’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Ensign.”

“Sano Laurie vaan” Ensign Kipp said, in Finnish.

“Sa puhut suomea?” Juna replied in Finnish.

Laurie nodded. “My mother grew up in Tampere. I think that was why Captain Edison assigned me to you.”

“My father was from Mikkeli.” She smiled. “But that was a long time ago. It was very kind of Captain Edison to assign you to me.”

“She’s a good captain.”

They chatted pleasantly in Finnish while Ensign Kipp showed Juna around the ship. They stopped often to shake hands and talk with the crew, who were eager to meet her. All this attention made her feel awkward and self-conscious, like some kind of Tri-V star. Fortunately, Laurie realized when she was getting overwhelmed, and gently ushered her on to the next lab, diplomatically shooing the crowd away.

Juna had never served on a research ship before. Because they were large and difficult to transport, the research ships were used only in very specialized circumstances. It was a shame that they weren’t used more often, Juna thought as she toured the spacious, well-equipped labs, and shook hands with dozens of lab techs.

But that was one of the drawbacks of being first. The Survey sent out a lot of advance teams, but could only afford the bare minimum in terms of collection and bioanalysis tools. Other, more specialized teams were sent in their wake if the advance teams found anything useful or interesting to report. The advance teams were usually made up of bright young researchers looking for their first big break, with a few seasoned scientists along to oversee their efforts. It was never hard to staff the advance teams; the romance of being the first human to set foot on a planet was a big draw, though the reality could be very disillusioning.

Juna smiled, remembering how hard her first trip had been. Half the first-timers had resigned after that trip out, but not Juna. Despite the cramped conditions, minimal equipment, and often petty regulations, she loved her work.

“You know, I wouldn’t trade being on an advance team for all the lab space on this ship,” she remarked to Ensign Kipp as they settled themselves into the crew lounge just forward of the dining room.

“Why?”

Juna shrugged. “Less politics, more adventure, I guess.”

Laurie rolled her eyes. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“Oh?”

“Too many presidents, not enough staff. Most of these people were running their own departments back home. They’re not used to taking orders.”

“I see.”

“Everyone seems to think their own department comes first. Captain Edison has her hands full just settling interdepartmental disputes.”

“Isn’t that Bremen’s job?” Juna asked.

Laurie rolled her eyes again. “Near as I can figure, his job is to look good in front of the cameras for the people back home. He wasn’t supposed to go ashore alone like that, but he pulled rank in order to set up a good scene. The crew nearly split a gut laughing when you introduced yourself. You made a lot of friends with that.”

“Coffee?” a familiar voice inquired.

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 fannrMiltmr a^fnii rf inor father’s bold, sprawling handwriting.

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.

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.