The Color of Distance

Chapter 6

Juna heard a rustle at the door, and looked up. Knot came in, followed by its apprentice, whom Juna referred to as Bird, because its name sign resembled a bird. Their gathering bags bulged with fruit, greens, and meat. They unloaded their bags and sat beside Spiral’s bed.

Knot examined Spiral, running a hand over its torso, gently pinching a fold of skin. Juna leaned forward, eagerly watching for some sign of recovery. Then the alien linked with Spiral. It broke out of the link, ochre in color, and motioned to its apprentice. They talked for a few moments. Then Knot motioned to Juna to lie next to Spiral in bed. Spiral’s skin felt icy cold. Juna curled around the alien’s body, warming it. Knot piled the warm, moist leaves over them, and then linked with its apprentice and Spiral.

It was a long link; Spiral twitched several times, moving its head as though questing for something in its sleep. It chittered, and then lay still for a few moments, breathing heavily, then let out a long, low moan, and lay still, its breathing quiet and calm. Knot and its apprentice unlinked.

“Food,” Knot said, in response to Juna’s attempts to ask how Spiral was. “Need food. Talk later.”

Juna helped Bird prepare and serve the food. The two aliens ate a huge meal. As they were finishing up, a rustling came from Spiral’s bed.

Spiral’s eyes slid open. Juna leaned forward, her heart leaping with sudden hope. Spiral tried to sit up. Juna slid an arm around the alien’s shoulders and helped it sit; then Knot sent Juna for food and water.

Juna brought a gourd of water and a rolled leaf full of mush. She wanted to let Spiral know that she was glad it was awake, but her skin produced only meaningless blotches of color. Spiral drank and washed, then handed the gourd back to Juna, thanking her. Juna tried to reply and failed. Spiral lifted its ears and drew back its head in surprise.

Spiral turned and said something to Knot. Juna recognized the name sign they had given her, but the rest was incomprehensible. Knot replied. Spiral lifted its ears even higher, turning a deep, surprised purple. It gave Juna a long, considering look. She offered Spiral the leaf cone full of mush. It took the cone from her and ate greedily.

When Spiral finished the mush, Juna helped the alien relieve itself, and bathe. Then she picked Spiral up and carried it over to a fresh pile of leaves. The alien was as light as a small child, despite the fact that it was only a few inches shorter than Juna. She remembered how light her mother’s body had been after she had died from malnutrition and cholera. She had looked like a bundle of sticks held together by skin. For a moment, Juna was angry at the alien for living when so many people she cared about had died.

The alien recovered rapidly. Three days after Spiral awoke, the alien told her that they would leave in another couple of days, and took her down to the storerooms to collect the supplies needed for the trip. Juna was busy filling gathering bags with packets of dried food when Spiral pulled the helmet from Juna’s suit out from under a pile of gourds. Juna stared at it in disbelief for a few seconds. She had thought it was rotting in the jungle where she had collapsed.

She turned to Spiral, and flushed a deep purple. She pointed at the helmet, then gestured to the rest of the storeroom. Spiral watched her, head cocked, ears spread wide. Finally it flickered understanding, and tossed aside more dried grass. Underneath was Juna’s suit. She lifted it up and examined it. It was beyond repair, sliced to ribbons and covered with mold, but it reminded her of all she had left behind. Tears welled up. Juna dropped the suit, then knuckled away the tears before they could spill down her face. The salt in her tears stung her fingers, and she put them in her mouth. The minor annoyance served as a poignant reminder of how alien her body had become.

Spiral held out Oliver’s helmet and suit. Juna picked them up, remembering Oliver’s collapse, his breath wheezing in and out of his lungs. What had happened to him? Could he still be alive?

Juna pointed from her suit to Oliver’s, turning a deep, questioning purple. The alien watched her, and shook its head. On its chest two figures in suits appeared. They were lying on the ground. Green aliens appeared; the suits faded away. One of the figures was pink, the other brown. Spiral pointed from Oliver’s suit to the pink figure on its own chest. As Juna watched, the pink figure turned pale silver, the color of death. The aliens carried the brown figure away, leaving Oliver behind. Spiral pointed to Oliver’s suit and shook its head again.

Oliver was dead, Juna realized. Oliver had been the tough one, the survival expert, but she had outlived him. He had been so patient with ~jer. always giving her a word of encouragement when things were tough. She remembered his compassion when the botanist Hiro, their final surging crewmate, had died. Oliver had held him, talking gently, sooth-ngly, as Hire’s breathing grew more and more labored. Then, after they had laid Hiro out and covered his dead body with leaves, he had held her, je’.img her cry out her grief and fear. Remembering, Juna was unable to sop the stinging tears of grief and loneliness.

A cool hand brushed her shoulder and she looked up. It was Spiral, :chre with concern.

Juna felt suddenly angry. She didn’t want the alien’s concern. She •anted to be home again and safe. It didn’t understand; it couldn’t understand her. It was an alien.

Then she remembered how Spiral had hissed at her during the funeral, when she had tried to offer sympathy to it. She smiled. Neither of them understood the other. At least they had that in common. She clasped the alien’s hand.

“Thank you,” Juna said aloud. She tried to make her skin express her “Jnanks, but produced only garbled waves of color.

The alien flushed dark green. It picked up Oliver’s suit, folded it, and neld it out to her. She smiled and took it. She would take the suit back with her, so that the Survey could give it to his family.

Spiral rummaged through a pile of nets. It pulled out her pack and Driver’s. Juna opened them, taking out ordinary human artifacts, which were priceless treasures now. There were maps, her multipurpose knife, a first aid kit, a radio, sealed packages of rations, extra clothes, a canteen, a tent. Down at the bottom, folded into a compact oval, was her computer.

Juna turned on the radio. There was nothing, not even static. She opened the case with the screwdriver on her knife.

“Farraddbenge!” she muttered in Amharic, when she had pried the case open. The radio was packed with fluffy black mold, the chips blackened and useless. She tried Oliver’s radio, but it didn’t work either. Spiral picked up the useless radio and examined it, ears wide with curiosity. Juna frowned; allowing the alien to examine the radio was a breach of Contact Protocols, but she could see no tactful way of stopping it.

Juna unfolded the computer. It came alive with a polite chime as she activated it. Relief flared on her skin. At last she could record her observations. The computer would be a powerful tool to help her unravel the aliens’ language. Spiral’s ears lifted and it flushed pink in surprise. Juna smiled, then frowned as she realized a working radio would be more useful than a working computer. The Survey had tried for years to incorporate a radio into the nanocomps, but they needed too much power, especially on a planet like this, where radio reception was problematical at best. Even if the radio had worked, she probably couldn’t have reached the base. At least she had her computer.

Juna brightened the screen and peered at the familiar menu of configuration options, a status report on the computer’s condition, and the time and date.

“Perkele!” Juna muttered in Finnish as she saw the date on the computer screen. It was much later than she had thought. She checked the activity file, fighting back a wave of fear. The clock had not been reset since she had first arrived on board ship. In desperation she scrabbled through Oliver’s pack, and checked the date on his computer.

The clocks were running within a second of each other. The survey flyer had crashed in the jungle sixty-four days ago. Base camp would be dismantled in a week’s time. In another three days, the mother ship would leave orbit. If she didn’t hurry, she would be marooned here forever.