Through Alien Eyes

Nine

Juna sat at the window of their hotel room in Brasilia. It was hard to believe that just two days ago they had emerged from the jungle with Tomas in tow. The trek out had taken a week and a half, mostly because Tomas kept running away, and they had to track him down. Finally, Ukatonen had turned Tomas into something like a zombie, unable to do more than follow them blindly through the forest. It had bothered her, to see him so unmanned, but it had been necessary. After another day’s wandering they found a road, which led them to a village where Juna convinced a surprised local policeman to contact the Survey office.

After that things began to happen very quickly. They were flown by helicopter into Brasilia. Tomas was taken into custody. Juna turned his computer over to the authorities. With the information on Tomas’s computer, the authorities were able to arrest hundreds of people, some of them extremely well-placed. The BirthRight movement was dealt a blow that would set them back several decades. Most of the people implicated in the terrorist wing of the movement were arrested, and several major illegal contraceptive reversal networks were broken up. General Burnham, faced with the information on the computer, resigned. Bruce was arrested, and charged with conspiracy to commit kidnapping. Word of this had left Juna and the Tendu deeply saddened.

A knock on the door made her flinch. She was still jumpy, despite the security detail outside her door.

She peered through the peephole, cried out in joy, and flung open the door. “Isdl Netta! Toivo!” She threw her arms around them, feeling the threads of paranoia part and frizzle away to nothing. “It’s so good to see you! How is everyone?” She paused, struck by a sudden horrifying fear that they had come to give her bad news. “Is Mariam okay?”

“She’s fine,” her father said. “It’s you we’ve been worried about.” He paused and looked at her, “For someone who’s been through as much as you have, you look good. How are Moki and Ukatonen? I heard that they were hurt.”

“You know most of the details already,” Juna told him. “Moki’s all right, despite his arm. It will grow back. It’s Ukatonen that I’m worried about. He was all right while we were getting here, but now …” She shrugged helplessly. “Now all he has to think about is his injury. He spends most of his time brooding about what he’s lost. I’m worried that he’ll decide to die.”

“Let me talk to him,” Toivo offered. “Maybe I can help.”

Ukatonen sat in his darkened room, pondering his situation. At home on Tiangi, he would tie up all the things he had left undone, or pass along whatever he could not complete to the enkar that he had trained. He would then retreat into the forest for several weeks, thinking over his life, and then emerge for a final ceremony of leave-taking with his enkar brethren. Then he would become one with the forest, alive only in the memory of the Tendu.

But he was far from home, and alone. There was no one that could take up his obligations. It might be years before he could go home again. He had to bear the dishonor of living like this. But how?

There was a knock on the door that connected his room o Eerin’s. Ukatonen ignored it. He wasn’t in the mood for company. The door opened anyway. He looked up, angry, and to his shame, a little afraid.

“Toivo,” he said. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“We just got in,” Toivo told him. He paused, “I wish I could heal you the way that you healed me, but— ” He spread his hands in a gesture of resignation. “If there’s anything I can do to help you, en, please tell me.”

Ukatonen sat silent for a few moments, wrestling with his dignity. “How did you manage, living like that? How could you do it?” he said at last.

“It was never easy, en,” Toivo told the enkar, sitting on a low stool across from him. “You know I tried to die. My family loved me too much to let me go.” He looked down at his hands as they rested on his knees. “At first, I was so angry that I couldn’t speak to them. That was when I moved out to the zero-gee satellite, where I could die in peace if I wanted to. And then”—he looked up at Ukatonen—“suddenly I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not there, not so far away from everyone I loved, everyone familiar. Then, a few months later, Juna came home, and I had to see her before I died.”

Toivo was silent for a while, his eyes shadowed in the darkened room, clearly remembering that time. “I guess— ” he continued, meeting Ukatonen’s eyes, “I guess you just take it one day at a time. Don’t think of the long run, focus on today, focus on now. If you think of spending ihe rest of your life as a cripple, well, you’ll go crazy.”

Ukatonen nodded. “I’ll try.” Even to his own ears he sounded dubious.

Toivo smiled. “It isn’t easy,” he said. “But you’ve got a choice. You can sit here in a dark room and think about your injury, or you can get on with your life. I suggest getting on with your life. You know, it could be much worse. You can walk and talk and even link, even if your -kill isn’t what it once was.”

“You don’t understand,” Ukatonen protested. “I’ve lost skill that took me centuries to learn. My presence was one of the strongest among the enkar. It made me a powerful healer. It helped me resolve differences. Now,” he said, a cloud of grey misting his skin, “I’m a cripple. At home my weakness would bring dishonor on all the enkar. I would be expected to die.”

Toivo clasped Ukatonen’s slender, long-fingered hands in his big, square, work-roughened ones, and met the enkar’s gaze. “But you’re not on Tiangi, en. You’re here in human space. You’re doing things none of your people have ever done before. Maybe this is one more thing that you’re learning to do differently. Maybe this is a lesson you can take home to your people. You won’t know unless you live long enough to find out.”

“I suppose,” Ukatonen ventured, “I’ll have to try. I must live to get back to Tiangi. I need to teach my people what I have learned.” Then I can die, tie thought to himself, but he did not say it aloud.

Toivo held out his hand. “One day at a time, Ukatonen. Let’s get started on living through today.”

Moki watched Ukatonen struggle with the gap left behind by his injury. He ached to help him, but Ukatonen shrugged off any attempts to reach him through allu-a, though he continued to work with Moki on making his arm grow back. When they returned to Berry Station, Eerin’s family did their best to comfort Ukatonen, but that only made him withdraw further into the shell of his dignity and reserve. At least he had reached out to Eerin’s brother. Ukatonen would spend hours working beside Toivo, saying nothing, apparently completely absorbed in the task at hand. He came in at the end of the day completely exhausted, but relaxed, his skin a slight bluish green. It was not quite contentment, not quite relief, but it was clear that the hard physical labor had brought the grieving enkar some kind of peace.

There were times when Moki was sure the enkar was going to give up, that they were going to walk into his room one morning and find him dead. But slowly, painfully, Ukatonen began to win against the darkness. At first there were a few moments when the enkar seemed to forget his [[jacn.]] and then an occasional hour of quiet contentment. “"-.en one evening, right after Eerin had put Mariam to [[-ec.]] Ukatonen, accompanied by Toivo, knocked on her ik-or and held out his arms for allu-a.

Moki sat up, ears spread wide in surprise, but Eerin laid i cautioning hand on his leg and said, “Of course, [[en. -"]]ease come in.”

Moki had never thought he would be relieved by Ukatonen’s injury, but after that link, he was. Ukatonen’s grief [[_red]] through them like a hurricane. He and Eerin waited il the storm passed, and then gently, carefully, enfolded [[:n.]] soothing away the rest of his grief and pain. Ukatonen opened himself to them like a flower. He had never really fully opened to them before, Moki realized. Before, Ukatonen had always screened a part of himself away. Now, feeling the intensity of loneliness behind the wall of the enkar’s reserve, Moki understood why. So much loneliness was a fearsome thing. To Moki, it seemed like it would engulf the world. He started to retreat, afraid that they would be caught in a downward spiral, but Eerin drew him back into the link, and they waited, giving what they could to heal Ukatonen’s broken spirit. At last Ukatonen regained a measure of control, and they achieved emotional equilibrium.

Gently, they slid out of the link. Moki was very hungry. Glancing at the window, he realized that the sky was greying toward dawn.

“Let’s go get something to eat,” he said, looking at the other two. There were dark patches under his sitik’s eyes, and Ukatonen was pale with exhaustion. Somehow on the way downstairs the trek to the kitchen turned into a mock hunting expedition. They crept quietly down the steps, peered carefully into the kitchen, and then attacked the refrigerator and pantry. They collapsed on the floor in a rippling, giggling heap, and then, weak with laughter, proceeded to stuff themselves on fruit, honey, bread, and meat.

They were just cleaning up, and getting breakfast set up for the early risers when Danan and Selena came in.

“Hey, Mom and I were in charge of breakfast this morning!” Danan protested.

“Well, we were up,” Eerin replied. “It’s been kind of a long night.” She glanced over at Ukatonen. “But it’s over now, and we were going to go upstairs and get some rest as soon as we were done here.”

“Well then, shoo!” Selena told them. “You’re done. Go get some sleep. You look like you need it.”

“Of course, Selena,” Eerin said meekly. They trooped up the stairs, passing several sleepy family members on their way down. It felt strange to be going to bed when the rest of the family was just getting up, but Moki fell asleep almost as soon as he had settled himself under the covers.

Ukatonen woke the next morning feeling somehow lighter and more free than he’d felt in several hundred years. He remembered that incredible, harrowing link and slid his nictitating membranes over his eyes and pushed the memory away. He must not allow that kind of pain even a remembered foothold in his mind.

From that day on, it got easier. There were still bad days, filled with the sour coldness of misery, or sour and tight with frustration, but they were only days, or hours, and he could get over them with a link, or sometimes even a joke. Gradually his reserve lifted, and he unfolded like a fragrant girra flower at sunset.

The response from others to this change was remarkable. People opened up to him in ways he never expected. Mariam began solemnly showing him flowers and rocks and bugs. Old Niccolo and his wife Rosa, sat and told him stories of the family and its history. Selena showed him sketches that she had made of the family, and surprisingly, a couple of him, sound asleep. He sat for her while she filled page after page of her sketchbook with drawings of him. She had a real gift for catching a characteristic pose. Suddenly the world was full of warmth and love. How had he missed it before?

He was in the kitchen, washing dishes, enjoying the feel of the warm water on his hands when Moki came bursting in.

“Ukatonen! They’re coming! They’re coming!”

“Who’s coming, Moki?” he asked.

“Anitonen and Naratonen!” he said. “They’re coming to Earth on the next supply boat back from Tiangi.”

Ukatonen squeezed out the sponge he was using, feeling his happiness ooze out like the water from the sponge. “When?” he asked in sound speech, not trusting his skin to hide the sudden, deep despair he was feeling.

“Eerin says it’ll be another six months at least,” Moki told him. “The announcement came from a supply ship that just made the jump from Tiangi.”

“What about greensickness?” Ukatonen asked. “How are they going to keep them from getting sick?”

“Eerin says that they’ve specially outfitted the ship to make the Tendu feel more comfortable.”

“Good,” Ukatonen said. “I’m glad their trip will be easier than ours.” He set the sponge down and wandered out of the kitchen, through the fields and up into the forest, where he sat looking out at the enclosed, cylindrical landscape of Berry Station. He was simultaneously anticipating and dreading the thought of seeing the other enkar. What would they think of him now, with his injury, and his lack of a decent enkarish reserve?

He sat there, pondering this until the light began to dim for evening. He got up and swung home with a heavy heart. Eerin was waiting for him on the darkened porch. “Moki thought you might be upset about the enkar coming,” she said as he reached the top step.

Ukatonen shrugged. “I’m— so different now. What are they going to think of me, like this?”

“You have much to teach them, en. And not all of it will be about humans.”

Ukatonen looked at her for a long moment. “They do not want to learn what I have to teach, Eerin.”

“Nevertheless, it’s an important lesson and one they should learn. How many wise and intelligent enkar die because a judgment goes awry for reasons they cannot control? How many maimed Tendu feel that they have to die because they are not perfect? The enkar need to learn to forgive themselves, en. Each one that dies is a loss, not just for themselves, but for the Tendu as a species. There are many lessons your people could learn by allowing the disabled to live. Lessons of patience, struggle, and strength.”

“Those are human lessons, Eerin,” he said. “I don’t think the Tendu can learn them.”

He turned and went inside, climbed up the stairs to his room, and shut the door. Despite all they’d been through together, Eerin didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, what he was going through.

Juna drove Ukatonen to the shuttle station two days later. He was heading back down to a research station in Australia, ostensibly to do some restoration work. She had pushed him too far, and he was running away. Not that she could blame him. The news about the upcoming visit from the enkar had nearly unravelled all the progress he had made since his injury.

“You don’t have to go, Ukatonen,” she said as a member of his security escort opened the door of the truck.

“I have to go,” he said. “They need me down there, and besides, it’ll give me time to think things over.” He brushed her shoulder affectionately. “I know you want to help, but I need to do this my own way.”

“All right, en, but remember, if you need us, we’re here.”

Ukatonen turned a clear pale blue. “I know. And I’m grateful.” He enfolded her in a long-armed hug. “Thank you. And please thank Toivo and Moki and the rest of the family for me.”

“I will.”

He withdrew from Eerin’s embrace and picked up his bag; then, accompanied by his guards, he headed down the passageway to catch the shuttle.

Stan Akuka met him at the airport. “How’re you doin’ mate?” he asked. “We heard you were hurt. You okay?”

“I suppose,” Ukatonen allowed.

“They’re looking forward to seeing you up at the station. There’s a bunch of me mates up there waiting to meet you, as well. You look like you could do with a bit of a party.”

Ukatonen nodded.

“Cmon then,” Stan said. “Let’s go.”

He stayed at the research station for a day or two. Then, he moved out into the bush with the Aboriginals, much to the dismay of the researchers and his security escorts. The Aboriginals lived more like the Tendu than any other humans he had encountered. They taught him about the jungle, showing him medicinal plants, and relating stories about the animals— where they lived, and what they ate. They admired his skill at hunting, and his ability to climb trees. He admired the Aboriginals’ quiet patience, and their sense of humor.

In the evenings, they told stories, and sang songs, and danced. He would perform a quarbirri, accompanied by the somber drone of the didgeridoo, drums, rattles, and flutes. The Aboriginals watched in silent appreciation.

Sometimes he would link with one or two of the Aboriginals that he especially liked. He found, to his surprise, that his injury made him pay more attention to the others in the link. He learned more about the Aboriginals’ internal life than he would have if his presence had dominated the link. Working with them, he learned die advantage of quiet attention and patience. It was a lesson he thought he had learned many centuries ago. He had not expected to have to learn it over again.

Living with these dark, silent people was more like living in a Tendu village than like living among humans. Many of the men and women he talked to were college-educated. Some even had advanced degrees in various disciplines. But at some point they had set down their “white” occupations, as they called them, and returned to the bush, some for a few months or weeks, some for the rest of their lives. He understood, but he didn’t think he could explain it to someone who was not an Aboriginal or a Tendu. Eerin might understand, perhaps. She knew what it was like to live this way, but for her, the bush was not really home, not like it was for him, or for these people.

He mentioned this to Stan one night, as the fire died down to embers. Stan nodded. “You either have the spirit in your heart, or you don’t. If you don’t, it’s meaningless.”

’Tell me about the whites. I still don’t know the story of what they did.”

“They came here and drove us off the land,” Stan said. “They hunted us like animals, made us slaves. They took children away from their families and sent them to mission schools. They nearly ended’the Dreamtime for us.”

“Why did they do it?” Ukatonen asked.

“If I understood that, I guess I’d be white too,” Stan said. “They wanted our land. We were different. We were in the way. But we survived. Despite all they did to try to change us, we survived. We remembered the old songs, not all of them, but enough. Eventually, they let us alone again, and we were able to rebuild. Sometimes it’s still hard. Those of us with degrees, it tore us apart sometimes, the gap between the white world and the real world. Some of us die trying to fill that gap. Others just seem to learn to live with a white soul and a black one. A few, like me, go walkabout and never really return. A lot more stay white. But there’s always a new generation of us here in the bush. There’s always enough to keep the song lines active.”

Ukatonen was silent for a while, then finally asked the question that had been weighing on his spirit since that afternoon on the zeppelin.

“Do you think that humans can do to us what they did to you?”

“If they can, they will,” Stan said. “There will always be those who understand, those who care. But there will also be the greedy ones. Both of them are dangerous, because both of them bring change. Those people who built the mission schools cared enough to want to take us out of the bush where we were happy, and try to make us white. You must not let them do the same to your people.”

“How do we stop them?” Ukatonen asked.

“If we knew that, this would still be our land. I’m sorry, Ukatonen. That is something your people will have to figure out for yourselves. We’d like to help, but remember, we lost the fight.”

“I like them,” Ukatonen confessed. “They’re so alive. There is so much my people could learn from them. So much we could learn from each other. But— ” He shook his head.

“They’ve made a right mess of the planet, though,” Stan noted.

“I don’t want that to happen to Tiangi.”

“Well, what are you goin’ to do to stop it?”

Ukatonen shook his head and stared into the glowing red embers of the fire, lost in thought. After a while he heard Stan get up and walk off to his bark shelter.

Stan’s question haunted him for three days. Finally he started gathering his things together.

“You goin’, then?” Stan asked.

Ukatonen nodded.

“Have you figured out what you’re goin’ to do?”

“No,” Ukatonen said, “but I do know that I have to stop running away from the problem. I’ve got a couple of my people coming here to Earth. Maybe they can help me figure out what to do.”

Standing in the boarding bay of Broumas Station with Moki and Eerin, Ukatonen watched as the heavy airlock doors swung open. Anitonen and Naratonen were waiting on the other side. It took him a second to recognize them— they seemed strangely long-limbed and fragile. He had a hard time believing they were real.

Anitonen was telling Naratonen how relieved she was to finally be off this ship. It was strange, watching two other Tendu talk to each other in skin speech. He and Moki had fallen into the habit of using a mixture of Standard sound speech and skin speech, and even their skin speech was peppered with human words, unless they wanted to convey something privately. It made the arriving enkar seem like strangers, even though he knew both of them well.

Before he could stop him, Moki rushed forward, and embraced the two surprised enkar. Their ears lifted in surprise, and Ukatonen thought he saw a yellow flicker of irritation on Naratonen’s shoulder. He felt a sudden flash of anger. It had been years since Moki had seen another Tendu. Couldn’t they understand how much the little bami had missed others of his species?

Then Moki remembered his manners and stepped back, becoming stiff and formal. He’put his almost-complete arm behind his back, self-conscious about his stubby, half-formed fingers.

“Welcome, Naratonen and Anitonen. Your presence does us honor,” he said both in formal Tendu skin speech and aloud in Human Standard. “Please allow me to lead you to where Ukatonen and Eerin are waiting for you.”

Ukatonen stepped forward as they approached. “Welcome, en,” he said, doubling the symbol for “en” to indicate that he meant both of them. “We will be staying here overnight, then going to an ecological research station on Earth. It is much like Tiangi there. You’ll like it.”

“And when will we meet Eerin’s family? Moki told us so much about them on the comm,” Anitonen said.

“It’s midwinter there, and very cold. You would have to wear a warmsuit whenever you went outside. In a few months, when the weather’s better, we’ll go and visit them. But Eerin’s daughter, Mariam, and some of her family will be joining us here on Broumas, so you’ll get a chance to meet them. They will be coming down to Earth with us to help look after Mariam.”

“I was hoping to see some of the humans’ performances,” Naratonen told him. “The plays that I saw on Tri-V were very interesting.”

“You will,” Ukatonen assured him. “After you are recovered from your trip, and are used to speaking aloud, we will visit many different countries around the world, meeting their leaders, and watching their musicians and actors perform.”

“I still do not understand the idea of countries,” Anitonen said, as they followed their security escorts into the hotel elevator. “Who determines what one is? How do they tell which country a person belongs to? Why are they all so different?”

Ukatonen shook his head. He had forgotten how little he had known when he first came here. They had so much to learn. “It is difficult to explain. Imagine, if you will, if individual villages ran the world. That is what countries are like. Only more so.”

Anitonen’s ears lifted. “It would be disharmony, and worse. I cannot imagine such a situation.”

“It exists here on Earth.”

“And have you done nothing to stop it?” Anitonen demanded.

Ukatonen spread his hands. “We have vowed to abide by their rules of noninterference.”

“En, it is not his problem to solve. Nor yours,” Eerin said. “We humans have been trying to bring peace between our people for millennia. Sometimes the attempts to bring peace only made things worse for everyone.”

“I have been studying the problem,” Ukatonen said. “Some of the feuds between different groups of humans have been going on for hundreds of generations. It is a very complex tangle, and not easily undone. You loosen one thread and six others tighten. If there is anything that we can do to help bring harmony here, it will require much study before we act.”

A blue and green ripple of amusement coursed over Naratonen. “Anitonen is still young, and so much time working with humans has made her hasty.”

Anitonen browned with shame. “I am sorry, en,” she said as the elevator doors opened.

“You will learn, Anitonen,” Naratonen said in gentle, reassuring tones. He brushed her shoulder with his knuckles.

Analin had set up a press conference in the hotel’s largest conference room. Eerin, Ukatonen, and Moki took turns translating formal greetings to the people of Earth from the two newly arrived enkar, and answering questions on their behalf. Anitonen and Naratonen watched the goings-on in amazement. At least, Ukatonen thought with a flicker of amusement, they didn’t embarrass themselves as much as he and Moki had at their first press conference.

Ukatonen did his best to spin the press conference out as long as he could, but Analin finally brought it to a halt. As soon as they reached their rooms, Ukatonen vanished into the shower, putting off the moment of linking as long as he could. Eventually, the shower timed out and shut itself off, forcing him to face the others. Anitonen and Naratonen were waiting for him in the living room with Moki and Eerin.

“Ukatonen, it has been a long time since we linked, come join us,” Anitonen said.

“No, I-I can’t,” Unatonen said.

Purple clouds of puzzlement flowed over the newcomers’ bodies.

“What is the matter?” Naratonen said.

“I was injured.”

“Then you need healing. We should link,” Naratonen insisted.

“It was my head, the part where my presence lived. Moki did the best he could but— it is beyond healing.” he told them, grey with grief. “I would die, but my knowledge is needed. And,” he said, gesturing with his chin at Moki and Eerin, “they would not let me die.”

“That does not matter. You need linking. Come,” Naratonen said, holding out his arms. “We will learn what you have to teach as quickly as we can, that we may not keep you from an honorable death.”

Ukatonen knew that once he said the words in his heart, his relationship with the enkar, with the Tendu, and with the universe would change irrevocably. He looked over at Moki and Eerin for a moment, to strengthen his resolve, then spoke:

“Perhaps I no longer seek an honorable death, but an honorable, if imperfect, life.”

The two enkar stared at him in amazement. “How can such a thing be?” Naratonen asked. “How can you think this?”

A flicker of ironic amusement flowed over Ukatonen’s body. “It is one of the many things I have learned here.” He held out his arms. “Link with me, and I will show you.”

Naratonen drew back, and Anitonen hesitated visibly. Ukatonen was suddenly amused. They were afraid of him. It was not the response he had expected.

“It is a choice, en, that is all. I realized that despite what happened, I still wanted to live. There is still so much for me to learn. And— ” he continued, “I am willing to live with the consequences of that decision.”

He held out his arms again. “Link with me, en. It has been a long time.”

Anitonen reached out first. Then Naratonen, though a flicker of orange fear passed over him as he did so.

They linked. The strength of their presences washed over him like huge waves. To his surprise, he sensed Moki and Eerin moving to buffer them, but he moved into the enkar’s presences, riding the power of their strength. It was good, so good, to feel the presence of other Tendu in the link. He realized how stale allu-a had become. He felt Naratonen examining the scar on his brain. The enkar made a sudden adjustment. Suddenly, like a picture snapping into focus, Ukatonen’s presence strengthened. He felt a sudden exultation as he tested his new strength. Then he sensed Naratonen’s disappointment, and despair closed on Ukatonen like a giant fist. The improvement was not enough. Not for an enkar.

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.”

“Ukatonen, if you return, then you can be an example. You can show your people the lesson that we have learned.”

“Perhaps,” he said, looking away. “But not yet. I am not ready to go and be an example, Eerin. I am not yet strong enough.”

Juna reached out and took his hand. “You will be someday,” she said. “You will have to be. You can’t spend the rest of your life here. Someday you will have to go home again.”

He turned to look at her. “But not now. Anitonen and Naratonen seem to labor under the delusion that somehow I can straighten out all the problems that have arisen between the humans and the Tendu on Tiangi.” He shook his head. “I told them that I would stay here and teach other enkar about humanity, but I would not go back. If they accept my offer, I will need the help of you and your family. Are you willing to take on this burden?”

“You know that I will help you all I can, Ukatonen,” she said, “I will talk to my family, but I’m sure that they will be happy to do what they can to help.”

“We will find what we need when the time comes.” Ukatonen said. He stood. “Hopefully, this will benefit Moki as well. He needs more contact with his own people.”

“I hope they decide to do it,” Juna told him, smiling inwardly. It wasn’t just Moki who needed more contact with the Tendu.

Watching the two enkar struggle to comprehend human culture convinced Ukatonen that he had made the right decision. He had Moki teach them to speak human sound speech. Once Moki got over the initial awkwardness of teaching enkar, he proved to be an excellent instructor. It was hard for the enkar to learn from a mere bami. It was especially hard for Anitonen, who had helped Moki through the transformation from tinka to bami.

Ukatonen hid his amusement at the enkar’s shame, and watched as they began to appreciate and acknowledge Moki’s skill. It was a lesson all enkar badly needed to learn, he thought. If they sent him more enkar, Moki would be one of their teachers.

Despite their initial difficulties, the two enkar learned quickly, and were speaking Standard fluently enough to carry on short conversations in only a few days.

Anitonen and Naratonen came into their own on the diplomatic tour. The diplomats had been briefed on Nara-tonen’s interest in seeing Earth’s performing arts, and they were treated to a wide range of performances, ranging from Shakespeare in the original English to the sonorous and majestic Noh theater, the brash and brilliant Chinese operas, as well as atomic-age musicals, and plays and films from every era and age.

In return, the three enkar and Moki performed traditional quarbirri, and improvised with musicians. Naratonen was dazzled by the lights, the sound system, the special effects, and the sheer range and variety of performing arts. He was especially impressed by Chinese opera, and spent hours backstage with the actors and actresses, learning to copy their masklike makeup. The actors in turn were fascinated by his ability to instantly change from one face to another. By the time Ukatonen bodily hauled him off to a diplomatic reception with the Chinese Minister of Ecology, he had formed a fast friendship with the troupe’s director, Li Liu, and they were spinning out ideas for a new opera that would utilize his ability to change his skin color.

Anitonen focused on learning human diplomacy. She spent hours closeted with members of the protocol staff, learning the ins and outs of a diplomat’s life. She also spent a lot of time with Analin, trying to comprehend the chaos and violence of human history. Anitonen kept coming to Ukatonen with questions about what motivated humans to do various things. Occasionally, he or Moki could enlighten her, but mostly they all turned to Eerin, whose explanations were often as confusing as the questions they brought to her. But once in a while some revelation would blossom.

The two enkar kept Moki busy, answering their endless questions, and looking after them. Moki blossomed under the enkar’s demands. Ukatonen had forgotten how much of a bami’s role revolved around serving the elders around him. It was how a bami learned to be a Tendu. He and Eerin were much too self-sufficient to keep Moki occupied.

After the diplomatic tour was over, they returned for a month to Berry Station. The two enkar were fascinated by the Fortunati family, especially Mariam, who was delighted to have two more Tendu to play with.

The enkar spent alternate months on Berry, studying intently; then they would spend a month traveling and meeting people. Naratonen and Li Liu actually managed to create a Chinese/Tendu opera, using both Chinese and Tendu music, though finding a common theme proved difficult. It was a huge success— over a billion people downloaded it. Naratonen’s share of the royalties was enough to make him moderately wealthy by Earth standards. Eerin helped him set up a fund to defray the costs of Tendu traveling to Earth. Li Liu gave Naratonen a copy of the score and a chip of the performance to take back to Tiangi. It would require violating the Contact Protocols to show it to any of the Tendu back home, but Naratonen watched the performance so many times that he could reproduce the entire performance on his skin.

As the date for their departure loomed, Anitonen and Naratonen redoubled their efforts to get Ukatonen to come with them. He continued to refuse. At one point, Naratonen even threatened to render a judgment that Ukatonen must go back with them. Before Naratonen could formally phrase his judgment, Anitonen stopped him by rendering a judgment that her life would be forfeit if he created a judgment about this matter. After that, the subject of Uka-tonen returning to Tiangi was not spoken of, though it hung in the air like a persistent fragrance.

The enkar’s final days in human space were spent in frenetic planning, trying to decide which six enkar would come and study with Ukatonen. They needed to be flexible enough to cope with the humans’ radically different culture, and understanding enough to work with Ukatonen, despite his injury.

Then suddenly, it was time for Naratonen and Anitonen to return to Tiangi.

Dread weighed heavily in Ukatonen’s stomach on the trip back to Broumas to see them off. It would be more than a year before the next group of enkar arrived. He had grown used to the company of his own people again. It was going to be hard, being only one of two Tendu among all these humans. It was still possible to change his mind and go home, Ukatonen realized. He closed his eyes against the sudden surge of longing as he thought of Tiangi.

Then the shuttle docked, and there were bags to carry, and trains to catch, and then they were standing at the starship gate.

Ukatonen held out his hands, asking for a link. Moki, Eerin, Anitonen and Naratonen found a quiet corner and plunged into a final allu-a. They reached a sad, subdued equilibrium. As the link was breaking apart, Naratonen and Anitonen drew him back into a separate link with just the two of them. They opened themselves completely to Ukatonen. He was startled and touched by the honor they did him. He opened himself to them, sharing his longing for home. He was surprised to see how much this leaving grieved them as well.

Naratonen brushed his shoulder affectionately. “You could still come with us,” he offered.

Ukatonen was silent for a moment as he struggled with his longing for Tiangi. “I know, but I am needed here,” he replied.

Naratonen nodded. He had not expected Ukatonen to change his mind.

“You have taught us so much. I think we will be better at working with the humans,” Anitonen admitted. “But it will be a long time before harmony can be achieved.”

“I know,” Ukatonen said. “First we must understand each other. Then we can work toward harmony.” He looked over at Eerin and Moki. “They are part of the bridge we must build.”

Anitonen touched his arm. “As are you, en,” she said. “As are you.”

The two enkar scooped up their bags and walked through the gate and up the long, spiraling ramp to the starship’s passenger airlock. Ukatonen watched until the curve of the ramp blocked them from view. He stood there for a long moment after they were gone, wanting desperately to run after them. Then he turned back to Moki and Eerin.

“Let’s go home,” he said.