The red sun glinted off the polished emerald skin of the Tektris representative. Seven feet tall, ruler straight and just as thin, his many appendages swayed in the light breeze. The eyes were large, multifaceted orbs and instead of lips, pedipalps moved constantly. The creature smelled of flowers and spice. Despite her fear, Maya found it intriguing and oddly beautiful.
“Those damn Mantises,” her father Palant muttered, clenching his fist on the arm of his wheelchair. “We’re at their mercy, and they know it.”
The fighting between Magellan Colony and the Tektris was only a few months old. For twenty years, the colony had flourished on Tahiti. It was settled on the northern continent with its balmy climate and fertile soil, avoiding the south with its dense jungles and wide swaths of desert. When the Colonial War broke out seventeen years ago, just after Maya was born, the settlers were almost relieved to lose contact with the contentious outer planets—no one wanted to go off world and fight someone else’s battles. They were content to be on their own, self governing and self sufficient. Then a few months ago, they had met the Tektris, and the colony found itself in a war of its own.
The Tektris representative walked over to the two, looming over the crippled man and his daughter. Its eyes swiveled to examine each of them in turn. Then it pulled a bag of sewn purple and gold leaves forward. With another limb, it reached into the bag.
Maya felt Palant flinch almost imperceptibly—like her mother and the other settlers, he found all of the creatures of this world repulsive and sometimes terrifying. But Maya loved their intricate symmetry and vivid coloration. She spent her free hours watching the animals just beyond the settlement, studying them, finding their behavior so different from the Earth-imported animals. She never saw one attack another. There were confrontations, but not only did one always back down gracefully, but there were what seemed to be signs of affection afterwards.
She wished Janta was here. He shared her fascination with Tahiti’s wildlife. They had met while watching two antelope-monkeys tussle—then make up with an amazing display of acrobatics. Even then, Maya found herself distracted by the way Janta’s black hair twisted into mischievous tufts and the roughness of his hand when it brushed hers accidentally. Last night they had kissed on the crosswalk between the settlement houses, under the glow of Tahiti’s three moons.
From the bag, the Tektris pulled a dull gray ball. It reached over gracefully and dropped it in Palant’s lap. Palant picked it up and turned it around in his hands. He and Maya had seen this before.
After the last battle, when all was lost, and it seemed that the Tektris would break through and destroy the colony, the fighting had suddenly stopped. Balls like this were thrown all around the protecting walls of the settlement. The colonists thought they were explosives, but before they could destroy them, a wall of wailing sound poured out of them. Then silence. Then these words:
“We are Tektris Society. We will speak. Send your Society Speaker. We will not end him. If you do not, you will be ended.”
A strange motion brought Maya back to the present. The Tektris was gesturing with one long, jointed appendage while using another limb to lift its ball to the level of its pedipalps.
“I speak here. You know there.” The strange tinny voice came from the ball that Palant was holding. Maya noticed that the sound actually coming from the Tektris was more like a series of crackling noises. “You speak there. I know here.”
“I am Palant,” Maya’s father said. “I am the leader of the colony. I have come to meet with you as you asked.”
“I am Dkshp. What is this one?”
“This is Maya. She is my helper.”
The Tektris began swaying. Its pedipalps began twitching back and forth, and a crackling noise could be heard. Maya realized that it was rubbing and tapping two of its limbs together in a jerky percussion. Something bright flashed. Just behind the Tektris, a round, furry creature was rolling about. It was a bright red with two long, green tufts, and it moved first to one side then the other.
“What is that?” Palant asked, following Maya’s eyes.
“That is my zztt akk, my zddt dkk.” Palant looked blank, and the Tektris kept trying. “That is my zbt, my dkd.”
Dkshp reached out to the red creature. For a moment there was silence. “No. I know now. That is my helper. We did not know your Society had helpers. This is good.”
Maya’s breath tumbled out in a river of relief. Palant was the colony’s leader; everyone agreed he was the one who needed to negotiate their surrender. But he was wheel-chair bound—crippled during one of the Tektris battles. He couldn’t go alone. Maya had begged to accompany him, despite her mother’s tearful protests. Maya had been helping Palant manage ever since he had been injured. She had a sixth sense about what he needed and when. She had accompanied him to all the colony’s meetings, filed his papers, and even sat with him late at night as he outlined possible strategies for the colony’s survival. She knew she could help him better than anyone else.
But she remembered Janta’s whisper as they said goodbye, “Maya, stay here! The Tektris only asked for one speaker. We should not send two people.” She had just turned away, knowing that she had to go.
Dkshp interrupted her thoughts, “We speak now. Your Society ended many Tektris. Tektris eating and drinking. Your Society came. You ended Tektris. “
“We did not know what you were. We were exploring, and we thought,” Palant hesitated for a moment. “We, uhmm, didn’t know you were people. That is, we thought you were, uhmm, animals. I mean, uhmmm, we’d never seen anything like you before.”
“I do not know your speak.”
“It’s hard to explain, but we made a terrible mistake. We know that, and we are sorry.”
Maya remembered when the men sent to explore the southern lands had returned with many strange specimens they had shot during their trip. People had tried to figure out if the corpses of what they now called Tektris could be used in some way—they were dissected and analyzed. Their tough waterproof skins were made into hats and leather carry bags. The meat was analyzed and then fed to the pigs brought from Earth.
No one was prepared when the mutilated bodies of the next team of explorers were thrown before the walls of the colony. No one was prepared for the horror of farmers massacred in their fields and cut into bloody slabs. When the final attack came, the sheer number of Tektris drove the colonists back behind their walls, but they knew they could not fight them off long. They could not reach the outer worlds; they had no allies and limited supplies. Their only hope was to find a way to make peace.
She felt a soft caress on her ankle. The furry creature had come to her and was rubbing against her. She stretched out her hand, and what seemed to be the creature’s nose touched her fingers very, very gently. The nose was moist and cool. Timidly she fingered the inviting fur. Her father was busy talking to the Tektris. He didn’t need her for the moment.
She knelt down and stroked the tiny, round body, alert to any sign of displeasure on its part. Instead the creature began to vibrate gently, pulsing beneath her fingers, and causing waves of happiness to stream up her arm and then fill her whole body. The smell of cinnamon surrounded her. She forgot the desperate situation, forgot her heavy sense of responsibility. All of it washed away by a wave of affection for the creature beside her.
She listened to her father’s voice, sometimes pleading, sometimes angry. He had clearly forgotten about her. She could relax for the moment.
Maya suddenly realized that her legs were very tired, and the ground looked so soft. She sat down and leaned against the boulder behind her. The round creature rolled into her lap. As she looked at it, she realized that beneath each of the two green tufts there was a large black eye gazing liquidly into hers. When she rubbed the fur behind the eyes, they half closed in pleasure, and the vibrating continued. The fur seemed softer than any fabric she had ever felt, almost melting between her fingers.
The nights of tossing and turning on her small bed began to catch up with her, and she dozed. She dreamed of life on the small settlement, of the hard work of farming and the joyful gatherings for harvest and celebration. She saw the twinkle in her mother’s eye and the slow smile of approval her father gave when she did everything right. Sleepily she remembered the alien animals playing on the edges of the settlement and the dancing in her heart when she heard Janta’s quick step. She loved this world with its violet skies and magenta grasses; she could never understand her mother’s yearning for yellow suns, blue skies, and single moons.
Images of the Tektris came into her mind, so stately and tall, so amusingly limbed. If only the colonists had known they were intelligent, maybe they could have been friends. How amazing to see this world from such a different point of view. And this little furry creature, perhaps she could have come to know it too—learn what it had to teach. Too late. Too late. Too late.
She awoke with a start, one hand on the ground, one hand still buried in fur softer than clouds. The dark eyes were looking at her, but she sensed a restlessness, and she set it free. It skittered across the ground, ricocheting off Dkshp, and began to hum softly. The Tektris stopped speaking and drew itself up to its full height.
“Enough,” it said loudly.
Maya scrambled to her feet and walked to her father’s side, the terror awakened once more.
“I haven’t finished,” Palant said. “You haven’t let me finish.”
“The speak is done.” Dkshp said. “The Societies know what will be.”
“You can’t decide. You don’t understand yet.”
“I do not make what will be. That is not my job. My job is to speak.”
“Then who decides. Let me speak to him.”
“The one who makes what will be does not speak. The one who speaks does not make what will be.”
“You tricked us then! This has all been a waste of time.”
Dkshp began to shake his limbs in an agitated way again, his pedipalps moving asynchronously. His helper rolled around him, and Dkshp reached out and touched it for a moment. He calmed down immediately.
“You do not know. I do not know why you do not know. We spoke. That was needed. But the helpers know what will be. We are only speakers. Your helper and my helper have pzzzt zzzt. Together they have made what will be.
“Your helper has shown your Society is not the Societies. You do not know us. We do not know you. But your new ones begin to know us.”
“From this time, your Society is in this place. Only in this place. If you go to other places, you will be ended. But my helper will be with your helper. They will know each other. Your other new ones will also know. When your Society is ready, the Societies will come to speak and to be. Then we will see what will happen.”
Palant was silent for a moment, trying to understand what all this meant. If nothing else, it meant the colony might survive. He reached out and took Maya’s hand. “My helper would be happy to work with your helper. We will be happy to learn of the Societies.”
“Yes!” Maya said. She tried to remember Dkshp’s words. “We will know each other. Our Societies will know each other.” She stretched her finger towards the red creature, and it came to her. As she touched its fur, new feelings surged through her—hope, reassurance, the knowledge that things can change and still be good. This world at last would truly be her home. Hers and Janta’s.
Nori Odoi is a writer and poet who has been published in the Old Farmers Almanac, The Anthology of New England Writers, and With Love, Lotus. Though she prefers short fiction, she is currently working on her first novel about grief and loss and, of course, cats.