How Six Saved the Frogs, page 8
He didn’t know how long Jack would be gone, but he’d waited long enough. Damp touched the edges of the pages in Ruben’s notebook, but the ink wasn’t even smudged. Q Crystals, on the other hand, withstood damp and fall damage. Unfortunately, his phonet refused to connect it.
Not many pages contained writing, but Wouter browsed to a random one and scanned it with his phonet. He’d turned the sound low because he didn’t want to risk Jack hearing what he was doing.
“2304-05-11 Thursday: A Dove Eight SUV followed me from the local gym to the base for my 16:00 assignment prep.”
Wouter’s hands shook so hard, he fumbled with his phonet. That was a week before… He took slow breaths to calm his racing heart. If only it had been a list of Ruben’s porn collection. Anything had to be better than this.
“Number plate unreadable. Mundane grey. No visible markings. Spotted them behind me on seven different occasions.”
And now Jack’s colleague Adeel hadn’t turned up? That couldn’t be a coincidence. He’d have to tell Jack.
Nif joined Rut and her polymates at the edge of the pond and wormed his hands and feet into the mud. He let out a contented sigh as he closed his eyes. The music was a low grunting language. Not human. His implant stayed quiet. It was almost deafening, despite the clucking around him. He hadn’t realised how tiring it was to have the implant translate everything the humans clucked. The delay. And the echo of clucking.
He stretched, pushing his limbs deeper into the smooth slippery mud while he still could. Soon they’d be on their way to their winter habitat.
“I always miss this pond during winter,”
Rut’s voice jolted Nif out of his thoughts. He opened his eyes, catching a hint of regret flashing across her skin.
“The mud there is just… clumpier, grittier. Or maybe it’s the trees. Those leaves aren’t as bouncy.”
“Yes. I know what you mean. They don’t lull us to sleep the way these do. Though…” Nif swallowed. He was about to cluck that Esh had made their leaf so comfortable, he’d had no trouble sleeping at all. He didn’t need to cluck it. Rut understood.
She found his hand in the mud and put a hesitant pad against his. “Winter won’t be the same without her.”
No. It wouldn’t. Nif didn’t withdraw his hand, allowing Rut’s touch to linger for once. It was the mud, it had to be. Or the thoughts of Esh. He was still glad when she pulled her hand back.
“The humans would have fascinated her.”
That was a big statement, coming from Rut. “She’d have watched them. Closely.”
“She had a good eye.”
The best. She’d seen him. Truly seen him.
“I’d have not found Koni without her.”
Next to her, Koni raised his head and flashed gratitude. He was the latest addition to their clutch of five. The oldest, too. A spotter. He’d kept Nif from jumping after Rut to save Esh.
Rut studied him, as if she waited for him to cluck something. Not questioning, like she wanted him to join their clutch—though she had for moons. Nervous. But why would Rut be nervous? Was it because he wouldn’t…
Oh. No. How could he have not seen it? Because he’d always been the nervous one, the one no one quite understood. He’d completely missed that Rut might feel he didn’t approve of her… or her clutch. “You are very lucky to have found him. To have found your clutch. And I’m lucky to have you as my friend.”
The happiness flashing across Rut’s skin was contagious. Koni flashed more gratitude as he took Rut’s hand in his and lay his head back down.
Nif imaged Esh flashing warmth and happiness at seeing them like this. He stared at the leaves above and enjoyed the refreshing mud surrounding him. Soon enough he’d have to get used to the grainy mud of their winter habitat. And sleeping without Esh. Or Rut, now that she’d moved back with her clutch.
He’d almost drifted off when the music changed from grunting to something light and zingy—still not human—and a shadow fell on him. He blinked. Sop flashed a warm greeting that Nif returned with joy.
They sat and wriggled their toes into the mud, their colours changing from a greeting to relaxed bliss. “My feet were getting dry at the meeting.”
“That boring?” Rut asked, leaning on her elbows.
“Not all of it. We learned what some of that arm-waving and head-shaking means. That was interesting.”
Nif sat up and shook the mud from his hands. “What does it mean when they move their heads up and down?”
Sop flashed agreement. “That’s what it means. It’s their purple.”
Even Rut and her polymates listened attentively while Sop explained their gestures, and Rut laughed the hardest when they explained why the humans clucked they liked a splash about.
“I’m still not sure I trust them. They seem silly creatures.”
Nif folded his fingers and stuck his thumb up. “Seems simple enough. When you can’t show your colours.”
Doubt flashed across Rut’s skin. “Imagine having to see that from across the pond.”
The hands Nif could see across the pond were small. “If they held them up, it might work. But you’re right. Flashing agreement is easier.”
Their conversation went on like that until Rut’s mates rose.
“When you learn more, Sop, I’d like to know.” Flashing warmth and gratitude, she hovered her hand over Nif’s for a moment, then joined her polymates.
Sop flashed pleasure as they leaned back and closed their eyes. “I can’t believe she remembered my name.”
Of course, she did. Rut was good at names. It helped that Sop might have information Rut found useful. “What else did you learn?”
“Jack seems to know a lot about our path to our winter habitat.” Sop didn’t even open their eyes. “He’s got a map of it all on one of those living machines. It has different colours than the one the sefoni gave us. Humans didn’t understand the colours the sefoni used, either. Blue means the weather is cold where they’re from.”
“Really?” Weather didn’t have a colour. But then, they didn’t have maps, either. Did it? And when bani got cold, their skin turned pale, almost translucent. He’d seen a few in his career. Nif shuddered. Those were not good memories. Would human skin turn translucent when they were cold?
“Red and orange mean hot and warm. Our summer habitat is still red on his machine.”
Red like fire? That made sense. More sense than blue being cold. “They didn’t have purple on their maps?”
“Mostly reds, oranges, and blues.”
“I have a music box. One of their songs mentioned being blue. Maybe that means they’re cold? Want to listen to it?” That was an okay question, wasn’t it? He didn’t want Sop to think he was looking for something more than friendship.
Sop flashed agreement. “Humans sing about such interesting things.”
That, they did.
Nine
Of Washing and Mending
It had been a while since Nif had listened to music with another bani… since Esh. It was pleasant. Different. Maybe because they both had implants and could understand the words of the Earth songs.
“They’re blue because they’re alone. It could mean they’re cold,” Sop clucked. “But they keep clucking about fire and the sun, too. So, they can’t be cold, can they?”
“I think they’re sad.” Or maybe that was because the song always reminded Nif of missing Esh.
Sop sat up, but clucked nothing as the song continued. “I think you’re right. Maybe cold and sad are different shades of blue.”
“Like the difference between being amused and curious.”
Flashing agreement, Sop lay back and peered over the edge of the leaf. “What’s Six doing with all those wrappings?”
Nif turned. Below them, Six had his arms full of wrappings clasped to his chest. Most of them in the same colour as Jack. He showed a lot of bare skin. He only wore loose blue wrappings around his waist and crotch area that flapped about when he walked. His feet weren’t covered, either.
“They have five toes, like us.” Nif couldn’t stop staring. He’d wondered, since humans had five fingers instead of four like bani. Six’s feet were as long as the wrappings had made them seem.
“No webs, though.” Sop wriggled their own webbed toes.
“Maybe they don’t swim?” Most wilds didn’t have webbed feet either. “Looks like he’s going to the stream.”
“Oh. Jack put one of his living machines there,” Sop clucked with awe in their voice. “It cleans water. I heard him explain it to the council. Don’t know why water needs cleaning, though.”
“Maybe human water is dirty?”
“Maybe.” Sop hung at the very edge of the leaf. “Shall we follow him and see what he’s doing?”
Nif flashed agreement.
Together, they swung high in the trees until they reached the stream. Sop had been right. Leaf by leaf, they descended to the lowest possible level where they could see what Six was doing, but where Six wouldn’t spot them.
Six sat, his pale, spotted skin glistening as sunbeams and shadows moved across it to the rhythm of leaves dancing in the breeze, and dropped the wrappings in two stacks next to him on a small strip of dry, curly heather.
“What is that muddy sheen to the skin? Did he have that when you were healing him?”
Nif flashed a negative. He couldn’t remember Six’s skin secreting anything but clear liquid drops when he treated him. “Nothing that covered his dark spots.” Was Six not feeling well?
“They’d have called for you if something was wrong with him. Wouldn’t they?”
He’d expect so. “Maybe the council or Jack aren’t aware.” Nif scooted closer to the edge of the leaf. “We’d better stay and watch Six closely. Make certain he’s all right.”
Flashing agreement, Sop clucked, “We’d better.”
Nif hadn’t even realised he’d clucked “we”. He didn’t regret it, though. He was their healer after all. It was his job to make certain the humans were healthy.
A small shiny basket rattled as Six put it on top of one stack. A similarly-shaped rock the colour of konsa bark joined the other stack. As Six rose, he dropped one last wrapping in a cheerful pink onto the heather, and took the stack with the rock on top to the stream. Into the stream, even.
Nif and Sop flashed a mix of confusion and curiosity at each other at the weird noises Six made as he walked to the middle of the stream. Noises the implant didn’t translate.
It didn’t help that Six plunged the wrappings into the water, again and again. Every time he pulled them out, the wrappings dripped water, and their colour darkened.
“What is he doing?” Sop asked.
Having already felt wet wrappings, Nif had seen how they’d clung to Six’s body. He flashed confusion. “It seems uncomfortable. Why would he do this?” Which didn’t answer Sop’s question. “Maybe we’ll understand if we keep watching.”
Six kept plunging the wrappings—one after another—into the water, then draped them over a boulder. After that, he took the konsa-coloured block and rubbed it all over the wrappings. Then, he rubbed the wrappings between his hands until a pale, bubbly sheen appeared across them and Six’s hands. Similar to the sheen covering Six’s skin. Now and then, a bubble escaped the wrappings and floated into the air.
Sop moved over the edge, trying to grab one bubble as it drifted close. It popped when they touched it, coating their left hand. Flashing joy, they held it up.
It looked like fun, but before Nif could try and catch one himself, Sop slid sideways, flashing panic as they scrabbled for a better grip. They flailed.
“My hand won’t stick!” Their right hand did, but the left kept slipping, no matter how hard they slapped it against the leaf.
Attaching both hands to the centre, Nif swung his right foot out and grabbed Sop’s arm. His own grip was steady, even with the added pressure of carrying part of Sop’s weight. But with one useless hand, it took time for them to crawl back onto the leaf. Nif’s leg muscles screamed when they finally managed.
Keeping their right hand firmly stuck, Sop huffed and panted as they held out their left hand. “Feel how slippery it is. One pad only. Don’t want you falling off.”
Trepidation filled Nif as he touched one finger to Sop’s. But Sop didn’t prolong the touch or push for a firmer touch at all. They swiped their pad across Nif’s and pulled their hand back without prompting. Something in Nif eased.
The slipperiness when he rubbed his pads together both worried and intrigued Nif. He dragged his finger across the leaf. It didn’t cling, but slid across the surface as if it was skimming water.
“Maybe it stops their wrappings from sticking?” Nif glanced over the edge.
Six had dropped the wrappings into the stream, the bubbles floating to the top. The water beneath it turned murky, as though mud had welled up from the bottom.
When he was done, Six grabbed all the wrappings from the stream and carried them to the closest bushes.
“That tastes vile.”
Nif turned to Sop, who had their tongue stuck out, disgust flashing across their skin.
Nif gave his own pad an experimental lick. It was disgusting. “Maybe we should wipe it on the bark, or wrap it, so we can wash it in the stream later. It might be poisonous.”
“With Six rubbing it all over his wrappings, I didn’t think it could be this bad.” They shuffled towards the trunk and wiped their hand, repeatedly. “And it smells nice.”
Grabbing a new growing leaf, Nif wrapped it around his finger. “He wasn’t eating it.” But it did smell nice, like the red oro that Six seemed to enjoy. He hoped that tasted better than this did.
Sop flashed embarrassment as they tested their hand on the leaf. “Now I know why.” Their hand stuck. “Still feels slippery. I’ll wash it later. What’s Six doing now?”
Below, Six stood in the stream, wriggling his toes. But where were the wrappings? Six hadn’t put them on the curly heather.
“There.” Sop pointed behind the heather. Six had spread the wrappings across a row of bushes.
What was he still doing in the stream?
Leaning against the bolder, Six cupped his hands, bent to scoop water, and splashed it into his face. Finally, something humans and bani had in common. Though, bani tended to dunk their heads underwater for a wash. Six seemed to enjoy washing, splashing water all over, even the fur on his head. He didn’t seem to mind the wrappings around his waist getting wet as he rubbed wet hands across the opaque sheen clinging to his skin until it disappeared.
Back on the heather, he picked up the pink wrapping and wiped them across his wet skin. It seemed humans didn’t shake the water off.
Sop pointed at the trees across the stream. “Should we tell him about the kewu leaves?”
“Maybe. Though, his skin is softer than ours, so they might be too scratchy for human skin.”
“I wouldn’t mind something that looked as soft as those wrappings to wipe water off my skin,” Sop admitted. “Maybe the sefoni could adapt the fuel contract to include those wrappings.”
Maybe Six and Jack would let them try one.
Ruben’s notes had been thumping through Wouter’s mind, even as he stood in the stream,. He couldn’t bear hearing more, but he couldn’t stop mulling over what had happened, and how to tell Jack.
Waiting for his clothes to dry, he settled on the small strip of moss-not-moss and made sure the towel covered his crotch, even if modesty was probably futile with so many nosy bani around. Who slept in colossal trees. On giant leaves. Who had their sticky fingers wrapped around the edges and pretended they weren’t checking out what the silly human was doing. Well, except Nif. Not that he wasn’t nosy, but he hadn’t called him silly even once, and the colours he flashed were warm and friendly.
The others might not all have translation chips embedded in their skulls, Wouter could still hear them. And he was already thoroughly sick of being called the silly human. Just because he’d thrown up when he arrived. Jack was Jack to them. But he was the silly human. Or Six. Which wasn’t much better, but he couldn’t do much about his name being mistranslated. And what was keeping Jack? He’d know what to do with Ruben’s notes. What if someone had followed Adeel, too?
Well, if the bani were that nosy, they were welcome to watch him fix some wearable shirts. He needed the distraction. He grabbed the long-sleeved shirts he was going to adapt. He doubted his sewing skills were up to par, but he could always repair ripped stitches. First, he used his multi-3000’s laser attachment to cut the shirts on both sides of the seams. He’d seen a seam ripper in the kit, but that would take far too much time. Besides, these professionally serged seams were hard to rip without damaging the fabric. At least this fabric didn’t fray.
Once done, he placed one on top of the folded sleeveless shirt, moving it until he was certain it would fit him comfortably. He cut through all four layers at once, leaving him with two similarly sized pieces. After sliding them across the remaining fabric, he cut out two more for the other shirt.
Ma’s instructions echoed through his mind as he threaded the needle and sewed the pieces together with a zigzag stitch she’d taught him. She would have a right giggle at seeing him sew. Well, maybe not so much when she realised he was cutting up Ruben’s work clothes. Something he tried not to think about, but failed. How could he not think about Ruben when he’d seen him in these clothes so many times? When his loss was still so raw. Not even forty-eight hours ago, he’d picked up the moving boxes to clear out Ruben’s flat. Boxes he’d still need to deal with when he got back.
By the time Jack found him, he’d finished both shirts, felt a little calmer, if lost in sad memories.
“I wondered if you’d drowned in the stream.” Jack’s voice sounded far more strained than Wouter liked.
