Fat Girl in a Strange Land (13 page)

I reach for another package of cheese. My stomach moans in protest, acid rising in my throat. I am stuffed. I am bloated.

I am starving.

I didn’t ask Jake Beck how he had landed this job. Ignored his communicayz. He was coming anyway. Whatever Jake wanted, Jake got.

I had manoeuvred myself to Seth, second planet from Quartrain, hoping in five years he’d find someone else and break off the engagement. That way, I wouldn’t have to do anything. But, after three short years he was coming to re-stake his claim.

He’d never been to Seth. I was the expert here. Alina Mordell, linguist and alien sociologist, in a world where communication was everything.

The Sethians had treated me like a China doll. They sympathized with my human “short” lifespan and “genetic disposition” toward disease. I felt like a terminally ill child being given her fondest wishes.

In time, the Sethians relaxed around humans, although the other earthlings never developed anything but terse working relationships with Sethians. I made my first friend in years; Screae Boiclan who made me an honourary member of his clan. Although I couldn’t graze on the purplish green folia that wrapped the planet in life, like Sethians, I could lay in it, roll on it, and press my face into its moss-like softness. Jake would have been disgusted to know that I often dressed as a native, in eye veil only.

Jake arrives wearing a silk yellow body suit designed to turn heads. He launches into a detailed account of the bi-house he has chosen for us, the vehicle he has ordered for me, even a name he’s found for our future son. He ignores my silence on the way to his quarters, labelling the landscape dull, the dwellings hideous, and the air mouldy. He chastises me for biting my nails.

“You expect me to sleep in this!” announces Jake in his ‘things don’t measure up’ voice.

I tense in memory and take a step back. “This is the same as my quarters.”

“What? We aren’t sharing? After I’ve crossed the stars to get you?”

He smiles, the kind of dazzle that melts management and service class alike.

“I wouldn’t mind crowding together, as long as I’m on top,” he says, as he springs the locks on his luggage.

Jake Beck, twenty-seven, brilliant, successful, the country’s top immunologist, with the body of a life-guard, and I don’t want him near me. I mix his whiskey sour, the way he likes it and hold it out.

“So, when do I get to tongue one?” Jake asks.

“Pardon?”

“A Sethian. That’s how you say hello, isn’t it?” He grins.

“Goodbye, actually.”

“Good thing I’m engaged to earth’s only Sethian specialist. Wouldn’t want to tongue someone inappropriately.”

Jake pulls me into his arms. I haven’t felt a human that close to me in thirty-nine months. He seems oddly foreign, stuffy. His tongue tears around inside my mouth like a hunting snake. I fight the urge to gag and draw away.

“It’s more subtle than that,” I reply.

“Their loss.” Jake gives me a steady look, then picks up his drink. “So, what’s going—”

“Do you think you can handle meeting them?” I interrupt, slipping into the only chair.

He shrugs. “I studied the pictures. Read the report by the famous linguist-sociologist Alina Mordell. A lot of human chicken-shits are afraid of them.”

“That vampire nonsense isn’t still going on, is it?”

“Yeah, and another group has labelled them as demonic. Couldn’t you get them to wear clothes for the photographs?”

I give a hand gesture for out of my control.

“Hm,” Jake shakes his head. “A whole new group of imitators have sprung up as well. Novelty stores sell specially labelled sauces for them. Curry and honey is the current favourite.”

I put down my drink. “You must be tired. Here’s your access code for the communication system. I have to translate for a meeting between Interstellar Mines and the Sethian Council.”

“I hope they’re paying you richly for this. It’s not in your contract.”

Jake had studied my contract long and hard before I left, emphasizing what I should expect (and insist upon if it wasn’t given) and what I had no obligation to do. “If they take advantage of you, we both suffer,” he had said.

I escape outdoors. Jake isn’t going to stand for this much longer.

I’d been a struggling professional when I met the great Jake Beck. I’d been overwhelmed when someone so popular, wealthy and well-connected had taken an interest in me. A loner.

Jake said I was moderately attractive but I didn’t present myself well. I tied my hair back, dressed casually and wore no makeup. Those were easy to change, but the nail biting was tough.

“You look imbecilic,” he’d said, and slapped my hand whenever he caught me.

I started nibbling the insides of cheeks then, and the edges of my tongue. Jake never noticed.

But the Sethians did. Tongues were not for biting, just like eyes and other special parts of the anatomy. On Seth, the urge had faded, until Jake’s message.

I hold my hands curled tightly in my lap, hiding the fingernails. I suspect the Sethians would be intrigued by their raggedness. Sethians are difficult to keep on topic and my habit could raise some pointed questions in an inappropriate situation. There are few improprieties for Sethians.

The earthlings dislike sitting outside on the folia, preferring desks and chairs and coffee. There is a slight breeze stirring up the heady smell. I can hear squarleeks calling in the distance. I feel at home.

Screae Boiclan gives me a grin and winks. I’m not sure if he’s hinting at the men’s discomfort, the contract, or something I know nothing about. He has a complicated sense of humour I find intriguing. No doubt he’ll tell me later. I look towards the other Sethians.

They are skin-grazed as bright as burnished gold. A content group. Thankfully, the colour runs deep. Red flesh, like human’s, might have made even me squeamish. That’s the major reason I was sent to this planet. I passed the toughest psychological tests for adaptability, accommodation, acceptance and comfort with solitude. These haven’t always served me well.

Fliaix Boiclan nods his golden head and marks the contract with his bite. O’Hara, the Interstellar Mines’ representative from earth stares at the double row of renewing teeth and shivers. He glances downward, flinches at Fliaix’s naked alienness, then settles on the customary veil covering Fliaix’s eyes. Fliaix passes the contract to me for verification.

I ask a question about the third clause. A female Sethian steps forward and responds. She has adopted the current fad of wearing human sunglasses. California shades on a naked, golden, bald alien with a huge mouth of teeth. I try not to smile. The black surface catches my reflection, large eyes and a small mouth. I chew on my fingernail.

“Satisfying?” asks Fliaix.

I blink and then realize they are all waiting for my approval of the contract. I read on quickly.

“The translation is correct.”

I pass it to O’Hara. He wears an expression of slight mistrust. I have no idea if the contract is fair, but both parties agreed to the terms.

The contract is notarized, duplicated and distributed. We stand and stretch in the orange starshine. I shake hands with O’Hara and the other humans and then touch tongues with the Sethians. O’Hara flinches, preferring to nod. The Sethians accept his choice with an indulgent grin. I grin too. Does the rugged O’Hara fear his tongue would be snapped off? I could try to explain that this would be less likely than one human stabbing another but decide to let Mr. Big Shot squirm.

On earth, humans still discuss the initial encounters with Sethians. The Sethians made what could have been a fatal mistake. In spite of their mischievous sense of humour, Sethians value
mutualism
. The protective spacesuits worn by earth astronauts had been seen as some mysterious contaminant. Frightened by the possible threat to themselves and the undoubted threat to the humans, the Sethians eagerly destroyed the offensive material. They shredded the spacesuits using their teeth and freed the “choking” bodies. Fortunately, Seth’s atmosphere is pure and oxygen rich. Exposure to the elements was harmless to the humans, if unsettling.

However, the second important meeting overshadowed this faux pax. The Sethians leader, Quain Reiclan, in an honourable gesture of friendship and trust, bit Admiral Petrochecov in the buttocks. Quain then raced off, keening, in what was later learned to be horror at his first encounter with human blood. The Admiral was equally shocked. On Seth, this is an embarrassing, funny story. On earth, it is the stuff of horror movies.

We’ve come a long way. Earthlings are attempting to establish trade. Earth plants don’t survive in Seth’s soil, so there’s no push for colonization. I suspect not many earthlings would live comfortably beside the aliens. Jake had been reluctant to allow me to accept the five year posting, until he’d seen the contract. I knew, but for that, he would not have let me go. It seemed my only chance. I also know I can’t face the descent back to earth.

Screae Boiclan is waiting for me when the group breaks up. “Well done, thick skin,” he says.

“Don’t call me that. The other earthlings might not care, but I know exactly what it means.”

“So sorry. No offense.” Screae covers his mouth.

I sigh. I am snapping in the wrong direction. “I’m not myself today.”

“Who are you?”

“Damned if I know.” I smile. “I wish I could live on folia and
co-pendence
, like you.”

We fall in step along the path. I breathe in the rich air, the lushness. Seth is largely in its natural state. The Sethian’s build dwellings, but no highways, since there’s no reason to hurry anywhere and no desperate need to ship food. Food exists below them and on them. They do, however, limit the number of people allowed in each village to prevent overgrazing. Each village has to be 12 parbles away from the next.

“New earthling has arrived.”

“Jake Beck. He’s involved in immunity research.”

“My wish, he finds nothing.”

I stumble. “Don’t you want earthlings to have the same immune benefits as you?”

“No. Your planet is dying from people.”

“But, they are moving out to the stars. There will be more space and food in the future.”

“Doubtful. Earthlings are for earth.”

A feel a twinge of sadness at this remark and turn away.

Screae touches my arm. “When they know all, what is to stop them from killing our home?”

I’ve often thought that. The Sethian’s have no weapons or defence system. They’ve had virtually no war, since the planet readily provides everything they need and their slow reproductive rate keeps the population from exploding.

“They’ve learned from their mistakes,” I say, not knowing if I believe it.

“O’Hara would be pleased to have no ‘salamanders’ around.”

So, the Sethian’s know the nicknames. I’m not surprised. Little gets past them.

“What your Jake suggest?” he continues.

“
My
Jake! How did you… Never mind. I haven’t got a clue what Jake would say. I hardly know him anymore.”

“Need time to chew the flesh with him.”

“I think I’ve lost the taste,” I confess.

“Unfortunate. So few of your kind on the planet. You are losing bearing time as well.”

I pause. This is not an area I can discuss. The nightmares returned with Jake’s messages of intended arrival. “I just want to be left alone.”

“How does the male spray the eggs when you do not carry them on your back? How do you choose when to reproduce?”

This is a conversation I’ve been avoiding. I’ve feared the Sethians would be revolted. By human history. By human biology. By me. But, then, they are far more accepting than humans. “That’s a long story. I will explain it sometime soon.”

“Appreciation for Alina. Most humans are so closed. Closed bodies. Closed minds. Closed hearts. You are no Sethian, but I like you. If only we could
co-pend
.”

He offers the tip of his tongue in a delicate goodbye, like the touch of two stamens. He tastes sweet and earthy, a faint flavour of clover.

I ask Dr. Sigurd, the research biologist, to pick up Jake the next day and show him the labs. He’ll probably be so intrigued by the experiments on the immune properties of Sethian saliva and the marketing potential that I wouldn’t hear from him for days. I need to think.

But Jake shows up at my quarters the next day. He opens volley immediately.

“Tom says Yuko Mamito can marry us right here on the planet.”

I mix a double whiskey and take a quick gulp. I’m not ready for this. Jake waits for me to offer him one, but I don’t.

“He has military rank. We could get special permission. Like the captain marrying couples on a ship.”

“You promised we wouldn’t have to get married until we returned to earth. Jake, I’ve changed.”

“Not for the better either.”

The drink is warm. I lift the block of ice from the freezer and drop it into the sink.

“What’s with you, Alina? You’ve gotten fat. You’re disagreeable. You’re about as warm as frost bite. You don’t know what’s good for you anymore. This planet has poisoned you.”

“On the contrary, Seth is the purest place in the universe. I feel purged.”

I slide the laser through the ice. I pick up the slick, cool sliver and slide it into my drink. It still tastes flat.

“Purged, of what, human decency?” Jake rumbles on. His tone is no nonsense. The tone that convinced me that I had to marry him or live my life alone. I should sign over legal rights to my savings on earth so he could invest them during my absence. To agree to sex even though my medication had forced me to forgo regular birth control for several months.

In his eyes, an unplanned baby had no claim to survival. Abortion should be as easy as getting my teeth cleaned. Jake had never asked how it went. The blood was hot between my legs. I’d felt it tear away from me.

How could I explain abortion to Sethians, who would view it as a type of suicide?

“Sigurd said you walk around naked,” Jake continues, “Next you’ll be veiling your eyes and dripping spit on men. Or perhaps you’ve developed a taste for salamanders.”