T'Nola
Greyson's House, Seattle
Front lawn; post memorial with Denise Toms and the Vulcan children
T'Nola's POV
I watch as the last dancers file away through the forest. I close my eyes, remembering the colors and sounds. This memorial reminds me of the great events of Shi'Khar. 'Atonement' where we remember our nuclear holocaust by walking to our family shrines to rededicate ourselves to logic, the walk a remembrance of our narrow survival. 'Gratitude' where the community gathers in the marketplace to recognize agricultural production workers and eat slices of freshly grilled plomeek, and sometimes Father lets us eat imported popcorn at the Shi'Khari University Alien Student Union. There is much music and appreciation of the arts. Then there are the High Holy Days that go back to the most ancient times. This has many processions to the ancient temples, with meditations and remembrances of ancient artists and writers and scientists. Of course the complete dialects of Surak are recited. Many children ask to be excused to our studies for the duration of the High Holies, though. They are quite…boring.
Boring is a word I learned studying Standard. It is a useful word.
This memorial was not boring. The clothing the dancers wore was most fascinating and the speaker was very kind. I could not understand his words very well, but I could feel them.
We wear special clothing to our celebrations and memorials, too. At Gratitude we wear bright colors if we desire. I always select blue because it reminds me of Earth and Earth has always been my favorite alien planet.
I did not realize there would be so much green here, too. And it is so cold. A climate this cold on Vulcan would be considered uninhabitable. Of course Earth is a very diverse planet. I know there are deserts here, too, some that look almost Vulcan. But now…I do not wish to see them.
Birds are not boring. Vulcan has few flying animals and two of those are large and predatory and not at all pleasing. Birds are not large and they are involved in their own lives and not interested in eating you. At least, so far as I know. These ravens are intelligent and curious. The smaller juncos and wrens and jays are full of chatter and very lively. So Terran.
Before…before our field studies were interrupted I was even allowed to hold an injured raptor on my hand at a wildlife rehabilitation facility. I would find it most satisfactory to dedicate my life to such work. Perhaps now that I have no home to return to, I might be allowed such a choice some day.
Below us, Elder Grace is waving her arm and looking at us with facial contortions. I do not know what this means. I turn for clarification to T'Zel and am shocked to see her exhibiting an intimate level of contact with Elder Greyson: his arm is around her shoulders!
"There, there." He murmurs to her.
Where is this 'there'? I understand the Standard word he speaks but he makes no sense at all.
I quickly look away. It is very confusing, and I must control the fear that starts to rise. I look to Savar and he does not appear to be any more informed than the rest of us.
Sel startles and declares, "She's back—"
He suddenly walks away from us, down the hill. Ah. Below, the young female we met has returned. Sel and T'Niise's resonance is palpable, even from here. Sel has lost all dignity hurrying to her. She still wears her traditional clothing, and has returned with a bundle in her arms. She shifts the bundle and also gestures with her arm. It must mean something to gesture so.
"Kirk, bring the kids down here. They're confused." Elder Grace calls, cupping her hands to her mouth.
When I turn to Captain Kirk he is evidently dissatisfied with being assigned this task because he sighs loudly.
"And I get stuck with the kids again." He shakes his head. "Come on."
Evidently we 'come on' to where 'there-there' is?
The three Healers are hurrying toward T'Zel.
Kirk shepherds us toward Grace as if we were a litter of sehlat pups.
Sel and T'Niise stand close and stare at their feet, shyly glimpsing up at each other like two six year olds on their first bond-match interview.
T'Pem stands close behind me as I march up to them. Selar, too, advances with me. Both Sepek and Savar stand behind us protectively.
"Hi." T'Niise says in Standard. "I have gifts for you."
This is unexpected.
T'Niise places her bundle on the grass and unwraps a cloth from around it. She takes out some kind of woven circle. It looks the same as the headbands the drummers wear. She takes one and holds it up before Sel.
"May I?"
"Yes." He responds, hypnotized by her. I have heard rumors that human females can have this effect on our males. I am certain he has no idea what she is asking permission for.
"See, it's made of cedar bark, well, inner bark that gets pounded sort of soft and bendy first. Then the strips get woven, and Grandma sews in this red felt lining so it's not too scratchy. Can you bend down a little?"
Sel bows at her command and she slips the band on his head and casually brushes his hair behind his ears as she adjusts it. Sel breathes in audibly but to his credit doesn't jump away. Or maybe he just finds her that…compatible.
I feel my face burn with embarrassment as the blood rushes to it. We were warned that humans have difficulty understanding how sensitive we are to touch and…what touch can mean for us.
I think she can sense our reaction because she turns to look at us and then her own face changes color, but to a fascinating bright pink that makes her eyes look even more startlingly green.
"Oh, yeah. No touching. Sorry." She rummages in her bundle and this time holds out circlets for Sepek and Selar to take from her.
Sel forgets himself and speaks in Shi'Khari. "There is no offense taken where none is intended."
"He says you are forgiven." Savar quickly translates to Standard for her benefit. "We accept your gifts with gratitude for your kindness." He places a band on his own head and bows. "Thank you."
I nod to Savar to acknowledge his skill in performing the human act of thanking. We were trained to do so for this trip, and not all of us have performed so admirably. I shall strive to follow his example, to remember and honor our teachers.
"And these are for the girls. I think I can put them on you without touching, OK?"
T'Niise bends and unfolds a black shawl with a raven design on it. Long red fringe hangs from it, nearly to the ground.
"This looks like yours." She carefully walks behind Selar and wraps the fabric around her shoulders. "What was your name?"
"Selar." Savar answers for her.
T'Niise glances at Savar and back at our youngest one, seeming to understand that Selar wasn't going to speak. "Selar, Raven took pity on the people and brought fire so they could have light and warmth."
Selar grips her shawl tightly; squeezing her eyes closed in satisfaction.
"This looks like yours. You're T'Pem, am I right?" Another black shawl, this one with a stylized animal appliqued in red, pearl buttons dotting it's edges, and long red fringe. "Bear is very powerful and protective."
"T'Nola." Only one shawl is left and my heart tightens in my side.
"This one's a little different, T'Nola. I hope you don't mind. It seemed like the right one for you."
T'Niise spreads it out between her hands. It is turquoise blue, a simple silver feather appliqued in the middle of it, long black fringe falls from its ends.
"It is…perfect." I breathe. Oh, beautiful blue! And now I am wrapped in this color. Blue, blue, blue!
Now I think may I understand something I read: Ambassador Soval's puzzling comment about humans, 'With many species we interact. With very, very few can we connect.'
"Hey, The Niece. Why don't you show them how to dance?" One of the drummers calls out with a challenging tone.
"Good idea, Ricky." She makes a face at him, and he begins to beat a soft steady rhythm, raising his eyebrows.
T'Niise shrugs then turns back to us, full of intent to teach.
They cannot possibly be serious. But no, Elder Grace is nodding. This is a yes. Is there is no one to protect us?
"Don't be so worried." T'Niise smiles at me. She is very hypnotizing. Perhaps it is not only males who are affected. I cannot resist compliance. "Just hold your arms out like this and circle. See?
I try it. A little. The fringe swings outward.
"See? You're a spirit. A bird. These are your wings."
Oh, wings. Oh. I turn again and I have wings. Wings! I can circle and have wings. I am not a bird. I have no wings. I cannot fly. And yet…I turn.
"Yes! Yes, that's it! Now, T'Pem. Selar. Try it. You can do it! Look at T'Nola!"
The boys stand to one side, wary, and she attempts to get them to bend a little at their knees in time to the drum. This is simple for them, but strange. They try, awkwardly, to comply.
"Yes, yes! Step, turn. Step, turn. Dip your arms as you turn. Now up! Arms up!"
I am turning. I can represent a bird. It is an art form. I am a bird.
I release the steps, the directions, and let myself be carried on the drumbeat as I move.
I imagine flying. I circle with dips and turns and soon Selar and T'Pem and T'Niise and I are turning together, describing intersecting circles in our motions, in freedom…satisfactory, oh, satisfactory this…
Is this 'play'…?
I am turning, turning…trees and sky and water…everything becoming blue…turning faster…
Oh, I fly…!
Most odd. The grass is now beneath me, the darkening blue of the sky above, yet the planet spins and somehow the whole universe spins around me…
Sel spins above me, and T'Niise now, too, and her face is most strange. Together they are satellites to my whirling.
Her voice sounds like it is coming from very far away.
"Sel, oh, no, no. Is she all right?"
"I do not know."
"T'Nola?" She waves her hand in front of my face. "Can you hear me? Are you okay?"
T'Niise calls my name and her voice quivers with fear, her bright green eyes threatening to rain. It is all acceptable. There is only bliss.
She reaches for me but stops herself, staring. She turns to Sel. "Is she… smiling?"
