As the long afternoon slowly passed, Mati learned how to be the hair on Malika-Terno’s back. Her reward was catching up with the wind and eventually leaving it far behind.
Seldom was she able to sit on her willing mount. Except at a few smooth gaits that Malika-Terno rarely used, Mati pretended she was a saddle blanket, her arms on both sides of the horse’s huge neck, her face pressed close beside his mane. After falling off four more times, she finally resisted the temptation to wrap her legs securely around his belly, and realized that the only way to stay on was to always be in imminent danger of sliding off. Once she learned that lesson, her legs stayed high and she could feel his powerful muscles working to outpace the wind.
With Mati’s profile now very low, Malika-Terno approached his top speed, came to the crest of a hill, slowed and said, “Hold on!” As soon as he felt Mati press her arms tightly on both sides of his neck, he came to a full stop, reared up on his hind legs, and whinnied for all the world to hear.
To his surprise, his little response-ship pilot was still on his back when he landed on all fours, so he began walking to cool himself. “Your training is complete.”
“Whoopee!” Mati cheered, finally daring to sit up.
“Now let us see who comes to my Call to Council.”
Mati slid off the horse’s back and began to explore the top of the low hill, wondering what she might find for dinner. Malika-Terno continued to walk
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to and fro, Mati heard other horses whinny far off in the distance, and sometimes Malika-Terno answered. She found a cluster of brambles on the sunny side of the hill, and the berries were edible, so she started picking.
The first group of wild horses arrived about half an hour later, a stallion and five mares, but they looked askance at the monkey mammal and kept their distance. Malika-Terno spoke to them in the common equine language, and they came a little closer, but still peered at Mati as they would a wasp’s nest.
“Find your value,” Malika-Terno said to her.
“What do you mean?”
“It is their nature to love you and hate you, to allow you to be their master but never fully trust you. Break that cycle. Be their servant for one evening.
You were once a slave, so you know how.”
Mati thought about it. “I didn’t have much value as a slave. I pulled a few weeds, washed a few dishes . . .”
“And
now?”
“I can walk, run, swim, and dance. I’m a response-ship pilot and engineer.
And now I can be the hair on a horse’s back and chase the wind!”
“Among all that, find your value to these wild sapient equines. Find the service you can provide them to earn their trust.”
Mati frowned and looked around. She was very sure they didn’t eat berries. “If only I had a brush . . .”
“You have a little knife on your belt, do you not? Perhaps, therefore, you have a brush.”
“No . . .” she started to say, then stopped herself as her eyes opened wider and she began to search among the grass. It wasn’t long before she found what she wanted, a wiry little bush.
“Would this work? I don’t want to use something they’re allergic to.”
Malika-Terno came close and blew deep breaths to smell the plant, then nibbled at it. “That is a good choice.”
For the next quarter hour, Mati worked with her pocket knife to fashion a brush from part of the little plant. Then she stood and looked over the situation. One of the mares was closer than the others, and slowly wandering even closer as she grazed.
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“How’s this look?” Mati asked Malika-Terno and stood with arms outstretched, palms up with the make-shift brush across them, and her head bowed.
“About as harmless as a monkey mammal can be!”
Mati took a deep breath and slowly walked toward the mare. When she was about half-way, she heard the stallion rumble a warning, so she stopped and knelt down, but kept her hands and her offering out in front of her.
Using only her ears, Mati determined that the stallion had relaxed. Barely daring to look, she sensed the mare continue to approach. Perhaps eight minutes later, a large black equine nose was blowing and smelling Mati’s hands and the brush. At the same time, Malika-Terno was saying something in the equine language from the hill top.
Once the mare stepped back a little, Mati slowly took the brush in one hand and carefully brushed her other arm with it.
The mare, for a moment on the edge of fear, eventually snorted and went back to grazing.
Mati carefully stood and touched the brush to the mare’s shoulder.
The huge animal twitched but continued ripping at the grass while keeping one eye on the little human.
Mati began her task. Within minutes, the mare was making contented sounds, and the other mares began to wander over.
She had barely finished brushing the first mare and was starting on the second when the stallion nudged the mares out of the way and presented himself for brushing.
Mati resisted the temptation to laugh.
By mid-afternoon, Sata had learned to run like a bear — slow and steady, hour after hour if necessary, while keeping her eyes and ears open for anything of interest in her environment.
She knew what Ss’klexna Rrr’tak’fi was doing. By running, Sata didn’t have time to think about anything. All her mental energy went into figuring out where to put her feet, when to crouch low to avoid branches, when to pause and listen for dangers.
Ss’klexna ran along beside, almost effortlessly at Sata’s best speed,
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modeling for her student the rhythms and postures needed in each situation.
Sometimes her nose was thrust forward, examining every molecule of the air.
At other times her ears twitched to catch the slightest pebble-fall on the mountainside.
They came to a flat rock outcropping, and the bear stopped and perched on the edge, surveying the wilderness below. Breathing deeply, Sata joined her.
“I don’t think I’ve ever had to sense so much, and think so little!” Sata remarked.
“Good,” Ss’klexna said, “but you’ve just been sensing the physical world.
Good place to start, but you’re a Nebador citizen now, so you must go deeper.”
Sata swallowed. “What . . . should I do?”
“Dance. And while you dance, listen to the planet.”
“But . . . there’s no music . . .”
“Find the music. It’s all around you.”
Very self-consciously, Sata shuffled to the middle of the rock outcropping.
After standing for a moment, and noticing that Ss’klexna Rrr’tak’fi did not turn to watch her, Sata started to move her feet, even though she really didn’t hear any music.
As the minutes passed, and the bear continued to gaze in a different direction, Sata felt herself relax into the dance and release the embarrassment she had been feeling. Again, just like with running, the act of dancing made thinking almost impossible. She could sense the massive rock under her, hear the rush of the crisp mountain air into and out of her lungs, feel the coolness on her skin, but could not, at the same time, think about much of anything.
Ss’klexna’s posture, perching as still as a statue at the edge of the outcropping, told Sata clearly that she intended her student to dance for a long time. Sensing this, Sata kept her rhythm slow and steady, just like her running earlier, so she could dance for hours if need be.
A quarter hour had passed — maybe half an hour, Sata couldn’t be sure —
when she became aware of movement around her, and none of it was Ss’klexna.
Some was very slow, like the creeping shadows as the day approached evening.
Some moved slowly at times, and at other times dashed from tree to tree.
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Sata smiled, for just a second, as she glimpsed something furry with bright eyes trying to get close enough to satisfy its curiosity without exposing itself to danger.
And some arrived suddenly, by air, and settled onto tree branches, cocking their heads to watch the two big mammals, one still, one moving slowly but constantly. They were mesmerized and fascinated.
Sata saw them, but didn’t stop dancing, and didn’t try to think. She trusted that if any of the creatures did anything threatening, she would sense it, and her body would respond. With no need to think, Sata realized she was dancing to music, but not music heard with her ears. Suddenly she felt completely free, and her dance became much more sensuous and expressive.
The birds noticed, and couldn’t tear their eyes away. More arrived, and more mammals crept close.
Suddenly Sata realized that Ss’klexna Rrr’tak’fi was dancing with her, weaving patterns with her on the rock slab while they both remained aware of the birds and mammals watching, the mountains and forests around them, the jungle, grassland, and desert farther away, the oceans beyond those, more continents with farms, towns, and cities of sapient peoples, and ice caps far to the north and south . . .
Without thinking, Sata followed the bear’s dance rhythm as it became slower, smaller, and lower, finally settling onto the rock until nothing moved but their hearts and lungs.
And yet, somehow, their awareness of the entire planet remained.
One by one, the curious mammals crept away.
In twos or threes, the birds took wing.
Bear and monkey mammal continued to sit facing each other, looking into each other’s eyes, breathing deeply.
After what seemed like an hour or more, Ss’klexna Rrr’tak’fi spoke. “Is this a happy planet? Don’t think. You know the answer.”
Sata grinned. “This is a very happy planet . . . and it has been for a long time.”
“What about Siminia Three, Jimox’ and Teina’s planet? Don’t think.
Remember.”
“It
was sad, until all the innocent ghosts were released, and now is . . .
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starting to become happy again. The planet station and retreats are very happy, even though . . . their creators are gone. But the ruins are looking forward to . . . the day when all manner of plants and animals can live in them
. . . without fear.”
“You are ready for this mission,” Ss’klexna Rrr’tak’fi declared.
As the sun sank into the tropical ocean, Boro could barely drag himself onto the beach when his day of training finally came to an end. By that time, several small native cetaceans — dolphins, seals, and manatees — and a pair of giant sea turtles, had joined the gathering. They frolicked in the still water of the island’s lagoon with Trekila Spimalo and Memsala, bringing Boro tasty fish to eat.
With shaking arms, he dragged himself to a rock by the water’s edge, unfolded the little knife from his buoyancy belt, and sliced himself some dinner, quite amazed at how hungry he suddenly felt. One large and two small fish were quickly reduced to bones and guts.
After nutrition and rest, he stood on wobbling legs and gathered fruit from the edge of the forest while enough evening light remained, and offered pieces to his teachers and their new friends, but they passed.
“Everyone here is sapient, aren’t they?” he asked from his little rock table at the edge of the ocean between bites of fruit.
“Yes,” Trekila replied, “although our local friends do not speak the language of Nebador. However, cetaceans have a universal language, so we can speak to them. The testudine can speak with each other through their minds.”
Boro nodded. “What keeps them from . . . some kind of contest or ritual to decide who’s dominant, whose territory this is, and all that?”
Trekila laughed, said something in the high-pitched cetacean language, and soon all the dolphins were laughing, the seals barking, and the manatees grunting.
Boro frowned. “What’s so funny?”
With smiling eyes, Trekila deferred to Memsala.
“Even though we are in the middle of a vast wilderness, we are also in civilization,” the giant sea turtle said slowly. “Humans, along with most
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avians, tend to think of civilization and wilderness as opposites. At its foundation, civilization is a state of non-aggression between sapient peoples, and requires the ability to recognize sapience in self and others. I believe you might say, live and let live.”
At that moment a tall, muscular, nearly-hairless monkey mammal, carrying a long spear, came walking toward them across the beach.
All the aquatic people watched him carefully.
Boro turned where he sat, realized his little pocket knife was useless, and tensed his sore muscles to jump into the lagoon if necessary.
The tall human stopped a few strides away, laid his spear down in the sand, said something in a strange language, and sat down near the water’s edge.
None of the Nebador citizens or their friends had any idea what the human had said, but one of the dolphins submerged, came back up a moment later with a fish in its teeth, and tossed it to the new arrival.
Boro thought for a moment, then held out his knife, handle first, so the man could clean and eat the fish he had been given.
Kibi washed up from her dinner of jungle fruit at a trickle of water coursing down a tree trunk. Toran Takil just used his tongue after feasting upon a plump but slow bird.
The mottled light was beginning to fade into evening shadows as Kibi noticed Toran become tense and wary, often listening to the jungle sounds around them. They continued looking for a place to spend the night where Kibi would have little chance of falling while she slept, and if she did, wouldn’t fall far.
As twilight descended around them, they discovered two horizontal logs side by side only a few meters above the tangled floor of the jungle. Kibi started to say something but was quickly silenced by the slap of Toran’s paw, luckily with claws retracted.
“Show no fear,” he whispered, then silently turned his head to scan with eyes and ears again.
Of whom? Kibi wondered, but made no sound.
After what seemed like hours of straining to sense what her teacher
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already knew, she faintly heard the low rumbling sound that could only be another large feline. It was some distance away, and she could still see Toran’s silhouette right beside her in the twilight.
A moment later he replied with a similar rumble.
Then Kibi heard a word, or sound, spoken by another monkey mammal, a girl who sounded fairly young.
“Hello?” Kibi called softly, making sure no fear showed in her voice.
The unseen girl, now closer, spoke more sounds, but they seemed halfway between words and feline rumbles, and Kibi had no idea what they meant.
Then the young voice came again, from just meters away, saying in the language of Nebador, “You from star station?”
Toran Takil intoned another deep rumble, then added, “Yes. My claws are sheathed.”
“A star-station kitty!” the girl said excitedly.
In the fading twilight, Kibi made out two shapes side by side on the logs not far away, one only slightly taller than the other. The taller one pulled something from a bag or pouch at her side, shook it vigorously, and it began to glow, casting a faint green light that revealed a human girl of about eight years standing beside a large striped cat, as big or bigger than Toran Takil.
The feline growled a warning that nearly froze Kibi’s blood.
“Stay standing,” Toran said softly even as he got down on his belly and placed his head on the log.
The girl giggled. “Boys! Okay, Bad Kitty is boss, your kitty is smart.
Wanna camp and tell stories?”
Toran remained silent, so Kibi took a deep breath. “We were going to sleep here, as there doesn’t seem to be anywhere better. We’d love to share stories!”
Toran nodded his head slightly without lifting it.
“Many better places, but too late to find them. What name, your kitty?”
Toran remained silent, so Kibi spoke. “This is Toran Takil, and I’m Kibi.
We’re in training for a mission on which Toran is a contact specialist, and I’m his helper and the steward of the ship.”
“You his mate?”
Kibi was unsure how to answer, just for a second. “No.”
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“Mommy and Daddy went on missions and things. Maybe I would, but now . . . diff’ent life.”
Both the girl and Kibi sat down on the log, each beside their feline companion.
“How do you know the language of Nebador?” Kibi asked.
“Born on star station, Sa . . . tamia. Then I was four, me, Mommy, Daddy visit here. I love trees, go on walk. Mommy and Daddy busy. Got dark. I cried. Animals come to eat me. Bad Kitty save me, bring food, protect me.”
Kibi realized the girl had been living here, with her feline companion, for three or four years. “Do you want to go home to Satamia Star Station? A ship will be picking us up tomorrow, and we could easily drop you off before going on our mission.”
The girl was silent for a long time. She shook the light again to brighten it, and scratched the big feline’s neck while she thought. Eventually she spoke.
“No. Me and Bad Kitty a team. Jungle my home. Kitties don’t live long as monkey mams, so one day when Bad Kitty go up to stars, I come out. Then I ready for missions and things. Not ready yet.”
As the twilight deepened into night, Kibi told stories from her travels and training, the girl shared many secrets about her jungle home, and the two large male felines remained wary of each other.
Eventually Kibi curled up beside Toran Takil, but lay awake for a long time pondering the circumstances that would cause a young girl to make a long-term commitment to a wild animal, even when offered a chance to return to her original home.
An intuition told Kibi that when this girl finally did step out of the jungle, she would be wise and strong far beyond her years, sort of like . . . someone who had been a slave. Kibi smiled at the thought, then fell asleep.
Rini sat cross-legged on the boulder, keeping an eye on the dark desert to the east. Kolarrr’ka, close beside him, faced the fading sunset light over the ocean in the west. T’sss’lisss went back and forth, from Rini’s shoulders, watching north and south, most of her body coiled tightly under Kolarrr’ka.
“The breeze isss from the north!” the snake said loudly so she could be heard. “Should be a warm night!”
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“What?” Kolarrr’ka responded. “I can’t hear a thing, bok!”
All three looked down.
The number of yapping coyotes, doing their best to reach the tasty morsels on top of the boulder, had increased to five, and more could be heard in the distance.
“Do they ever sleep?” Rini asked anyone who cared to speculate.
“My guess would be no, bok, as long as they’re hungry!”
Just then, the largest of the canines leapt with all his might, coming within half a meter of the Nebador citizens, then falling onto a smaller boulder below and yelping in pain.
“Sssorry, but we didn’t asssk you to do that!” the snake hissed, glaring down at the coyote.
“My compliments on your choice of boulders, bok! It looks like we will be safe!”
“I just wish we could hear ourselves think!” Rini shared with frustration.
“It’s always easy to find a quiet place on the star station!”
“I have a hunch about that! More latransss are arriving. Let’sss sssee what happensss!”
During the next few minutes, the number of coyotes around the boulder more than doubled. At first the noise was deafening, but it soon fragmented into several fights that didn’t leave the canines time to yap and howl.
The three on the boulder watched with a mixture of relief and sadness.
A quarter hour later, two coyote were dead, six or seven limped away with severe wounds, and the remaining few acted much less confident in their reduced numbers. They continued to prowl the evening near-darkness, or tear at the ones who had fallen, but seemed to lack the will to continue the assault on the boulder fortress.
“Welcome to the wilderness, bok.”
“Sad that it took a war to get them to relax. I’m not happy about it, but glad we didn’t start it.”
“Ssso . . . now that the noissse isss much lesss, what were you sssaying about wildernesss, my dear feathered friend?”
“From what I have read, bok, this continent is where anyone can go . . . or is sent . . . who can’t live in peace with others — young people who need to test
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themselves against nature, criminals, and anyone who wants a very simple life.”
Rini chuckled. “The young people choose to come here, and the criminals get sent, I imagine.”
The bird nodded.
“I remember the approach controller sssaying no groupsss larger than twelve.”
“That’s so no one starts kingdoms, nations, guilds, corporations, or empires, bok. That’s when things get too complicated for some people.”
“But the other continents are different, right?” Rini asked.
“Yesss. One continent allowsss tribesss of up to a hundred, so they’re huntersss and gardenersss. Another hasss communitiesss of up to a thousand, mossstly farmersss and craftersss.”
The discussion was interrupted by three or four canines fighting in the darkness below.
“But . . . what if . . .” Rini began thoughtfully when the desert again became quiet, “. . . you’re on one continent, and decide you are ready for a change? In either direction?”
“Bok, there are Consulate Offices sprinkled all over each continent where people can go to ask for a new home. They’ll talk to you, give you tests, show you videos, anything else to help you find the right level of civilization where you can be happy.”
Rini smiled, glad places existed where people didn’t enslave and abuse each other, like happened so often on a certain planet he knew well.