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The food serving court was crowded when Liam and Ondry arrived, but Liam noticed that two tables of younger individuals quickly left. Ondry guided them toward the more distant of the two serving stations. The owner was younger than most of the servers, but Liam noted that he tended to serve more sweet fruits, and he had added Earth foods to the shelf beside his cooking area.
The new additions surprised Liam since most Earth foods, like apples and peaches, didn’t appeal to Rownt tastes. On the other hand, it did mean that Ondry chose this vendor. It didn’t hurt that his area was near one of the humming machines that gave some additional privacy in this public space.
Right now, the noise was loud, but Liam didn’t know if that was part of the lift-off protocol. Since Ondry wasn’t an engineer, he wouldn’t know either, so Liam didn’t ask. That would’ve put Ondry in the awkward position of having to admit his ignorance.
“Tuk-Ondry, Tuk-Palteia-Liam,” the server greeted them. Most Rownt struggled with Liam’s name, but this one had pronounced it relatively well.
“I regret not knowing your name,” Liam said.
The server darkened and pulled out cooking supplies, including one of the apples Liam had been eyeing. It would be the height of rudeness to ask for a specific food, so Liam appreciated the server’s thoughtfulness. “I am Ka-Alar, young one,” he said.
Liam smiled at the server as he and Ondry took seats at Alar’s table. Since the food had not yet arrived, Liam asked a quick question that wouldn’t be appropriate once they started eating. “Will the trade goods arrive in time?”
Ondry checked his computer. “The delivery will arrive in forty-two minutes.”
Liam bit his inner cheek to avoid smiling at Ondry’s naïve belief in human timekeeping. “Don’t expect the delivery to arrive at that time.”
Ondry widened his eyes and stared at Liam. Liam waited until the server had brought a small plate of flat bread and cheese with the addition of round slices of apple. Luckily, they had finished specific business details and were now onto a more generic discussion of human and Rownt culture.
Liam grabbed an apple slice before he explained. “Most humans don’t expect precision in time.”
Rownt didn’t either, but Liam had never seen a Rownt offer any delivery time the way humans did. With Rownt, they were more likely to deliver it whenever they felt like it. The only deadlines Ondry had ever taken note of were biological. If farmers or egg-laying females needed a product for a certain purpose, Ondry would always deliver it on time. However, any other clients would get product when Ondry got around to it. The generals who had traded with the Grandmothers explained deadlines and had financial incentives for the Grandmothers to deliver goods within a certain time.
“Does this lack of precision extend even to those who offer exact time marks?” Ondry asked.
“Yes.” Liam finished nibbling around the edge of the apple core and put it on the plate. The server had been focused on cooking some sort of meat, but now Alar leaned across the serving counter.
“Is the fruit lacking in quality?” he asked.
“The fruit is excellent,” Liam said. “Humans do not eat the center of the fruit because the seeds contain that which is poisonous.”
Alar and Ondry both paled.
“The soft of the fruit is favored by most humans.” Liam had nearly called it the flesh of the apple, and he didn’t even want to think about how the Rownt might have handled that clumsy bit of translation. “The seeds are bitter, so we know to not eat them.”
“Is that why humans avoid some flavors? Do they remind you of poisons?” Alar asked. Ondry was still pale, but the color had returned to Alar’s face and now his eyes were wide with curiosity.
“Perhaps,” Liam said. “I can only remain silent on issues of human sensory preference since I have no information, so to speak on it would prove my ignorance.”
Alar’s face tightened. “A proper answer.” He whisked the food away before Liam could protest that he’d wanted it. Sometimes Rownt were strange.
“The Grandmother’s palteia comes,” Ondry said, with only a hint of aggravation in his tone. Liam turned and saw Mora threading his way through the serving stations. Ondry had a Rownt’s natural fondness for palteia, but Zach Mora’s decision to bring a dog on the ship was testing Ondry’s reserve of patience. Liam found it charming.
Liam lifted his hand so Mora would see him. The second Mora did, he started in the direction of their table.
“Good trades to you this day,” Mora said.
Ondry smiled at Mora. “And to you, palteia.”
Mora moved to Liam’s side. “I don’t know the correct protocol for asking to join someone for a meal,” he said. He must have practiced the phrase because his Rownt was almost passable.
Liam sympathized. There were an impossible number of social situations that language training didn’t cover, and if Mora had learned about Rownt society from Liam’s notes, Liam had never asked to join Ondry. He’d waited until Ondry had issued an invitation and then had internally danced for joy. And Liam would never tell Ondry how much he had grieved each time Ondry had left without issuing that invitation. Ondry would never stop feeling guilty.
“An individual is always welcomed by those of lesser status,” Liam said.
For a moment, Mora appeared curious, but then Liam realized the widening of the eyes indicated surprise. It was difficult to mentally adjust to human expression again. “Since I have the status of the Grandmother, does that mean I could join any table?” Mora asked.
Ondry answered with a simple “Yes.”
Mora looked at Liam, but Liam declined the silent request for reassurance since to do so would have undermined Ondry.
“I am not with understanding an issue,” Mora said. “I understand that the serving of food is an exchange. How would I recompense the server for their work in serving me?”
Liam glanced at Ondry, since the complexities of food service were some of the most difficult transactions to parse.
“If you provided interesting information, the server could consider that payment,” Ondry said, “but since you are the palteia of a Grandmother, any profit would go to those with whom you chose to sit.”
“And if I do not saying anything of value?”
Ondry seemed to take longer to answer this time. “Then the cost would be borne by those you joined.” The hesitation did imply that this was a far less likely outcome.
Mora switched to English. “I was hoping you could explain the politics a little more. I would feel horrible if I did something stupid and everyone let me because of their respect for the Grandmother. For example, I’d feel horrible if someone else had to pay for my meal. It would be unfair.”
Ondry stared at Mora with no expression, but Liam could practically read his mind. The Rownt loved unfair. If they could find some way to take advantage of someone—that was entertainment right up there with reading a good story. The whole culture loved to engage in unfair competition and embarrassing others. They loved it so much that they had never gotten around to inventing any other public entertainment. However, if Liam tried to explain that now, he would make Rownt look like a race of assholes, so he changed the subject.
“Any Rownt would be pleased to have you choose her table,” Liam said. “It would be an honor equal to having a Grandmother choose to sit at the table.”
Mora nodded and was quiet for a time. Alar chose that moment to put a new tray of food out. He had removed the center of each apple slice, and he had added a number of new dishes, all much smaller than the standard Rownt meal. Liam chose a thinly sliced meat wrapped around something dark. He was surprised to find a nutty texture with a crisp apple flavor. Alar had been experimenting with human food.
“Are there status dangers in choosing a table for my meal?” Mora asked.
“You cannot damage your status,” Ondry said.
While that was a reasonable interpretation of what Mora had asked, Liam suspected he had another fear. “I believe Zach is more afraid of having others question how well the Grandmother has taught him to interact,” Liam explained.
Ondry’s face tightened somewhat, so clearly he approved of Mora’s concerns. He chose a bit of thick-cut meat and ate before answering. “Those you choose to sit with might assume you acted to show favor because of what you had heard in the Grandmother’s nest. The status implied by having you take a meal with them would outweigh the cost of any food.”
“But if they made that assumption, then I could incorrectly lead others to infer favor where my Grandmother shows none,” Mora said in correct Rownt. The man usually let his conditional conjugations get away from him.
Ondry didn’t answer, but the tightness of his cheeks expressed pleasure.
“You’re right,” Liam said, since Mora was unlikely to recognize the approval. “And you don’t need to worry so much about making a mistake. The Rownt have a lot of patience for the young, and by their standards, we’re both young, and we’re from a less developed society. If you make a mistake, they won’t hold it against you.” All the Rownt cruelty was reserved for adults of equal or greater status.
Mora chose an apple slice and a small piece of a dry Rownt cheese and then continued in English. “I'm not sleeping well, and I worry that I’m going to embarrass myself or the Grandmother.” He took a piece of fruit and nearly choked as he spit it out.
“Ait fruit,” Liam said. He should have warned him that the small berries were bitter enough to make a lemon taste like candy. Mora held a cloth over his mouth as his eyes watered. Liam offered a bit of doughy bread he knew would take the sting out of the fruit. Alar watched carefully. He was trying to figure out how to please a human palate. No doubt he had pinned his future profits on trying to make the Grandmother’s palteia a regular customer.
“The smaller the fruit, the more likely it is to be bitter,” Liam said. It wasn’t a surefire rule, but it was the closest he could come to judging what was safe to eat without endangering his taste buds. “Sorry, I should have warned you.”
Mora held the cloth over his mouth as he chewed the bread. “My fault for not tasting a little before biting in. I think my saliva glands are broken.”
“You stop drooling eventually,” Liam said. The strong bitter flavors Rownt preferred did tend to have that side effect. Liam figured it was the mouth’s way of trying to wash out the bitterness. “The cheeses tend to be safe, and the meat is good if you can find it cut thin enough to chew.”
Mora nodded.
“So, are you nervous about leaving human controlled space?” Liam asked. He kept the conversation in English. Mora was having a hard enough time without having to struggle with verb tenses.
“Um, no. Why?”
“You said you weren’t sleeping well. I thought maybe you were nervous.”
Mora wiped his mouth and put the cloth down. He immediately grabbed more of the soft bread, though, so he was clearly still struggling with a bad taste. “What worries me is sleeping in a nest.”
“What's wrong with a nest?” Liam asked.
“Nothing,” Mora was quick to say, “except that Rownt are huge. I mean enormous. I keep having nightmares about my Grandmother rolling over and crushing me. That fear does not lead to deep sleep.”
“Have you told her?” he asked. When Liam looked over at Ondry, he was pale and his eyes were wide at Mora’s confession.
“Hell no. I mentioned that it's not common for adult humans to share a bed, and she jumped to a disturbing conclusion.” Mora gave a shiver.
In Liam's experience, Rownt didn't jump to conclusions at all, but he had long ago passed the point where he believed that he understood Rownt well enough to predict how an individual might react. Maybe this Grandmother was simply less Rownt-like than most. “Oh?” He kept his voice non-committal. He didn't want Mora to feel obligated to explain that comment, not when it had to do with another Rownt's nest.
Mora leaned forward. “She asked if I was feeling sexual.”
It took a second for Liam to respond. “What?”
“That was my response. I might have even gotten a higher tone in there,” Mora said. “The Grandmother said she understood that humans shared beds with sexual partners, and she wondered if I would feel more comfortable if we engaged in non-procreative sex. It was the single most disturbing conversation of my life. The woman is like a thousand years old, and I call her Grandmother. The part of my brain that deals with her and the part of my brain that deals with sex never have and never will touch. Her question made me want to bleach my brain.”
Liam was exceptionally grateful this conversation was happening in English. Ondry had the amused expression of a Rownt who had figured out that an elder had embarrassed herself, but Alar had the wide eyes of a confused youth. Good. This story didn’t need to get around.
The Grandmother’s words made a Rownt sort of sense. They did tend to follow the success of another. Innovation was not one of their strengths. And since Ondry had formed a successful relationship with Liam, the Grandmother was going to follow that pattern. Liam felt a flush of pride that she trusted Ondry's approach. “If it makes you feel better, they don't think of it as sex in any form,” Liam reassured him.
Mora glanced over at Ondry before focusing back on Liam and lowering his voice to a whisper. “So you do have sex with Ondry? There were bets on that back home.”
“I don't think it's anyone's business,” Liam said before Ondry could say something horrifyingly Rownt, like brag about how well he knew how to stimulate a human prostate.
Ondry must have understood Liam’s motive. He gave a trill of amusement. Of course from Ondry’s point of view, he was probably crowing over his superiority when it came to the care and feeding of a human.
“No, but you know how people gossip,” Mora said. “And you were the center of a lot of conversations. Elite first-contact specialists managed to completely misunderstand the Rownt, and a linguistic tech comes along and outshines them all. That is a lesson in humility.”
“Well it shouldn't be. I lived on Prarownt for years, and Ondry and I had a unique relationship that gave me more access to information. The Rownt hid facts from the first contact team.”
“One of the first lessons is that all species hide facts. Humans do. If we meet a new species, there is a laundry list of subjects which must be hidden.”
Since Liam had violated that list a dozen times over, he changed the subject. “As a man who knows a lot of Rownt psychology, I'm telling you to stop thinking of sex with Rownt as sex. For them, sex is a brutal exchange of genetic material in order to create eggs. What people do in the nest is touching, cuddling.”
From Mora's expression, he didn't buy it. His tone turned flat and dry. “She promised me that even if a female's tail is shorter she could still provide prostate stimulation as well as a male.” Clearly, he had not been impressed by that offer.
At this point, Liam was having to work to avoid laughing. No doubt he had been equally horrified when he’d woken up chained to a wall, but the Rownt habit of laughing at others’ misfortunes was rubbing off. “For them, any touch is incredibly intimate, so that barrier you have in your head between polite touching and, well, naughty touching—it exists in a different form for Rownt. For them, polite touching is accidentally brushing tails on a narrow trail as you pass each other. And if you read enough storyscrolls, you'll find that even that can cause a fight. Anything more is seen as intimate.”
Liam reached across the table and rested his hand on Mora's arm. “This would be a nearly obscene gesture between adult Rownt. So once you're past the naughty line, touching is touching. She's not going to understand why you enjoy her touch on your hair and then don't want it on your prostate. You need to talk honestly with the Grandmother. Is that why you’re not sleeping? Are you afraid she’ll touch you? She absolutely would not.”
“I know that,” Mora was quick to say. “But I’m scared of her size. She can't help that. Complaining about it feels like I'm being racist. I'm judging her for her skin, although in this case, her bones and muscles are involved as well.”
“She's not going to have an accident with you in the nest.” Liam understood the fear; he did. He still felt a deep resentment that someone who didn’t know the Rownt would judge their trustworthiness. As much as Liam knew his feelings were illogical, he wanted to defend the Grandmother. She would hurt at the idea she scared Mora. No Rownt would want to frighten a palteia out of sleep.
“Easy for you to say. Your Rownt isn't ten times your size,” Mora said.
“My Rownt is easily large enough to break me into pieces. If Ondry rolled over, he could suffocate me,” Liam said. True, Ondry was too young to have the bulk of a tuk-ranked Rownt, but he still weighed three times as much as Liam. “Rolling over in sleep is a human trait. Rownt don't move in their sleep.”
“They don’t roll? Ever?”
Ondry answered. “Rownt metabolism slows during sleep and there is no need to readjust for blood flow.”
Liam wasn’t sure how much of that Mora understood, but he did seem comforted. He smiled at Ondry and nodded. “Thank you,” he said. “That was my real fear. I am still disturbed by the offer for non-procreative sex, but the rolling terrified me. The sex offer was creepy. I mean, I call her Grandmother. I don’t have room in my head to imagine her having sex with anyone.”
Ondry’s nose tightened.
“Then you might want to make sure you don’t look if certain people flip their tails in her direction,” Liam advised. “For Rownt, larger and older means sexier, and any number of males, including Ondry, would love to have her pull their tails. That’s a metaphor for raw, hard sex.”
“So when the tail pulling starts, I head for the hills. Got it.” Mora had given the metaphor in Rownt so technically it made no sense, but Liam understood.
“Oh yeah,” he agreed in English.
If Mora was uncomfortable with Rownt sex, he’d better be prepared to run for the hills on a semi-regular basis because he lived with a gaggle of Rownt Grandmothers, and for Rownt, that was like a room full of sexy. Liam had already seen more than one tail twitched in the temple, although none of the Grandmothers had yet taken up the offers. They would. Eventually. If Ondry had his way, a number of those beautifully old females would be having some of that sex with him. Ondry had twitched his tail at more than one of them.