Not of This World (Warriors of Risnar) Page 8

  She didn’t know how long she walked entranced about the open-air gallery until Kren touched her on the arm. She gazed up at his starburst eyes. “Wow,” she whispered, trying to pour all her astonishment into her voice.

  He may not have known the word, but he understood the sentiment. He quirked a half smile and nodded. “Wow,” he repeated. He put a hand over his chest, perhaps signifying how the artwork touched him.

  He glanced at the dome they stood before, and the warmth on his face fled. For an instant, Jeannie saw fear. The tops of his ears flattened out a little, then he took a deep breath and arranged his expression to look casual. His hand went to the small of Jeannie’s back, and he prodded her toward the dome.

  Arga waited by his flying machine. He stepped to Jeannie’s other side so that the men bracketed her. They went to the door and waited.

  Jeannie guessed their presence on the doorstep signaled the equivalent of a doorbell or a knock. That was proven when the door opened to show a Risnarish man standing on the other side.

  Because of the different colorations and striping of the aliens, Jeannie found it hard to judge ages. Yet she detected lines at the corners of this man’s eyes and bracketing his mouth. The hair of his mane, striped black and tan and orange, was streaked with silver strands that his bodily coloration didn’t possess. He must be older.

  His silver eyes widened and his mouth dropped open as he stared at Jeannie.

  Surprise, she thought. Alien chick in the neighborhood. I hope it doesn’t hurt your property value.

  Kren spoke up. He talked for a long stretch with frequent interjections from Arga. Lots to explain. Jeannie waited patiently, trying to maintain an attitude of friendliness. Staying as still as possible seemed to be a wise course of action since she didn’t want the older gentleman to think she planned to cause trouble.

  After Kren and Arga’s extended explanations, the elder man spoke. He had a nice, rolling voice even with the frequent sibilant sounds of the Risnarish language. He stepped aside and indicated they should come inside the dome. The pressure from Kren’s hand on her back increased, and Jeannie walked through the doorway.

  The layout of this dome was much like Kren’s. Sleeping area, living area, kitchen, closed off section that probably served as a lavatory, plus a couple other partitions. It was bright too, as well as cool and breezy. She peered upward. The glass of this dome was missing, allowing fresh air to pour in.

  A second older man approached. This one’s coloring was light green and blond. His face was also lined with age, and more gray peppered his mane. He made Jeannie think of wheat fields next to a pasture. He stared at Jeannie with the same shock the man at the door had met her with.

  Kren and Arga greeted the second man familiarly. Then they spoke in animated tones with the first. Jeannie wanted to examine her surroundings, but everyone was looking at her and she didn’t want to appear nosy.

  She wasn’t fond of how the elder Risnarish watched her. She grew uncomfortable under their stares, especially since their expressions grew grimmer by the second. Kren and Arga looked worried. The atmosphere felt tense.

  Jeannie didn’t know who these men were, but perhaps their impression of her mattered. Being falsely sweet and accommodating didn’t wash, however. She was tough. She had faced the worst life could throw at her so far. They needed to know they were dealing with a survivor.

  She stared at them with steady eyes. Her back was straight, her shoulders squared. She showed no fear, since nobody had given her any real reason to feel threatened. Especially Kren.

  She wanted to look at him now. Even when they’d misunderstood each other, he had not offered any hint of menace. If there was anyone on this planet she could trust, it was Kren.

  The way Kren and Arga spoke to the elder Risnarish colored almost like a tiger indicated he was of some importance. She’d have to impress him above all others, apparently. Quite the task since they didn’t speak the same language. Even drawing hadn’t allowed her and Kren to get much information across thus far.

  Kren stepped toward her, motioning her closer to their grouping. He waved to the elder man and her, in turn. “Mekay. Jeannie.”

  A name was a start. Jeannie smiled at him politely. “Hello, Mekay. It is nice to meet you. I hope.”

  Mekay blinked. His lashes were long and jet black. Some guys had all the luck. Her lashes were not only blond, but short as well. She had a feeling mascara was in short supply on Risnar.

  Mekay beamed, and the expression transformed his face. The creases deepened, making him seem a kindly old grandpa. With tiger stripes, of course. He said something in that rich, rolling voice and spoke her name. Then he waved over the other elder Risnarish.

  “Gurnal,” Mekay said.

  Although he looked uncertain, Gurnal also spoke in the tones of politeness. His voice was quiet, a gentle tenor barely above a whisper.

  When Gurnal finished talking, Mekay moved closer to Jeannie. He peered at her face. She returned the favor, surveying him minutely.

  He chuckled, perhaps over being examined. Thank goodness he hadn’t tried to grab her breasts as Kren had. Somehow Jeannie thought a clutch to the groin or ass would be handled with far less grace on Mekay’s part.

  He reached and tugged at the sleeve of her blouse. He looked to Kren and made an inquisitive comment, which Kren answered.

  Mekay nodded, his expression bemused. He let go of Jeannie’s sleeve and took hold of the hem of her shirt. He started to lift it up.

  Jeannie stepped away and pulled the blouse out of Mekay’s grip. Her tone resolute, she told him, “No, Mekay. I’ve been naked in front of enough aliens, thank you very much.”

  Mekay stared for a moment. Then he put his outstretched hand at his side. Kren said something. Mekay made a show of putting his hands behind his back.

  Jeannie smiled in return. They had reached an understanding.

  * * *

  Kren’s shoulders sagged in relief. Mekay was a good man, a gentle man, the man who had raised him. He was also a member of the council that governed the village and was not used to his authority being questioned. Jeannie’s challenge over the body coverings might have been cause for offense, but Mekay, in typical fashion, had chosen not to take any.

  Instead, he turned to Kren. “She possesses modesty, like we have seen from the Hiseans. Fascinating! And she communicates in tone, posture, and expression, as well as speech. I think she might indeed be sentient.”

  More of Kren’s concerns lifted. Mekay saw a little of what the rest of them had. Still, there was the question of Jeannie’s origins. “If we could just understand her,” he said.

  “I may have the means, but it will take some work. Has she attempted any other forms of communication?”

  Kren exchanged a worried look with Arga. “She has drawn us pictures to tell us things. Including this one.” He nodded to his partner.

  Arga called up the projection he’d saved on his compact palm processor. The CPP emitted a view of the crude drawing Jeannie had made the night before, the one depicting her in a Monsudan lab surrounded by drones. Mekay sucked in a breath.

  It was Gurnal who spoke, however, uttering an oath. “Great and generous All-Spirit. But Kren, you said she’s not dangerous. We know that dangerous tools are all the Monsuda build.”

  Kren answered Mekay’s longtime partner. “We think she may not be their creation. As Mekay noted, she shows sentience. She may have a soul.”

  The two men who’d raised him from the time he was a year old appeared momentarily affronted by the suggestion. Mekay and Gurnal always searched for the best possible traits in any person, however, so those immediate reactions were swiftly quelled.

  Still, Mekay couldn’t stop himself from pointing out, “Few are of the Spirit, Zvan. Those who are sentient cannot be assumed to have souls, even if the All-Spirit did create them.”

>   Hearing his childhood name given to him by Mekay, the one he’d used until Kren was old enough to choose a name for himself, made him feel like the young and foolish boy he’d once been. Kren fought off the sensation and pressed on. “Jeannie laughs. She makes jokes. She was fascinated by Gurnal’s sculptures. You taught me only those sharing in Spirit appreciate art. Jeannie expressed wonder and enjoyment when she saw them.”

  Gurnal softened. “She did?” He gazed at Jeannie and beamed. She blinked at his warmth and smiled back.

  Kren fought off a grin. At least Jeannie had won one of his guardians to her side. Now if she could impress the man who sat on the Elders Council, things would look up.

  Mekay was quiet, sizing Jeannie up as he considered the matter. Kren studied her too and tried to remember his first impressions of the Hyoo-man. Yet all he could see now was her delicate beauty. The strength of personality that defied her vulnerability. He willed Mekay to notice it too.

  Mekay rubbed his chin. At last he said, “To know for sure, we must be able to question her. Come this way. Let’s see if I can get the system’s old translation program to work.”

  He led them from the entrance to the dome’s visiting area. His hearts pounding, Kren took Jeannie’s hand and followed.

  Mekay motioned them to sit on the long, low upholstered bench. He took his usual perch in a billowy upholstered chair across the table from them. Arga sat next to Jeannie on the opposite side of Kren.

  Gurnal didn’t follow. Instead, Mekay’s longtime companion went to the kitchen and busied himself there.

  Mekay settled himself comfortably and spoke. “System, access subsystem library, translation program. Prepare to decode an unknown language.”

  The system’s feminine voice answered in its usual dispassionate tone. “Root or parent language?”

  “None. Complete decoding of possible alien language required. Focus on alien subject in room.”

  “System ready to gather verbal and nonverbal cues of alien subject. Input may begin.”

  Mekay gave Kren a doubtful look. “We haven’t had the need for translation of a new language in centuries. This might take a while.” He eyed Jeannie. In a musing tone he asked her, “Now how do I get you to talk long enough for the system to gather common words and phrases? Let me think.”

  Kren watched fascinated as his guardian considered the matter. Mekay was perhaps the smartest man in Hahz. He was often called to the temple to assist in scholarly matters, a rare honor because Risnarish females seldom required help with anything involving intellect. Yet Mekay was revered by all for his good sense and knowledge.

  Mekay glanced at Jeannie. “Let’s try this.” He pointed to himself. “My name is Mekay Galmahahz Echin. I am an elder of Hahz Village, a member of the council.” He pointed to Kren. “This is Kren Zvanhahz Bolep. I became his guardian when he was a year old. He is head law enforcer of Hahz Village.” He pointed to her next. “Now, my dear. Let’s see if you followed well enough to tell me about yourself.”

  Kren looked at the tiny woman next to him, willing her to understand. She had to be able to speak to them. She had to tell them the Monsuda had not created her.

  * * *

  Jeannie puzzled over the speech Mekay had made. Most of it sounded like Risnarish gobbledygook, but she’d caught his and Kren’s name. He’d behaved as if he was telling her about them.

  He watched her expectantly. Kren and Arga’s gazes were on her, their expressions hopeful. Kren held his breath. They were all waiting for her to make some sort of response.

  To what end? They wouldn’t understand anything she told them, yet how else would they ever figure out how to communicate?

  She had nothing to lose by attempting to cooperate. So she said, “Hello, Mekay. I am Jeannie Kaye Gardner from Morehead City in the state of North Carolina, United States, on planet Earth. I was abducted from my home by aliens from your world that look like little gray children with enormous heads. They answer to giant insect aliens. They’ve been kidnapping me, experimenting on me, and returning me to Earth since I was a child. I would appreciate it if you would send me home and keep them from taking me again, if you can.”

  She waited. The feminine sounding disembodied voice that had spoken out of thin air earlier came on again. Some sort of public address system, Jeannie surmised. It spoke briefly.

  Mekay frowned. He shook his head. He stared into space for a few moments before brightening. He asked Kren and Arga something, and they nodded. He leaned forward in his huge overstuffed chair and addressed Jeannie while tapping the table between them.

  “Jix.” He gazed down at the table and tapped again. He looked meaningfully at Jeannie. “Jix.”

  Jeannie mused. “Jix? Is that your word for table?” She tapped its surface. “Jix. Table.”

  The disembodied voice spoke. “Table. Jix vers table.”

  Mekay smiled and pointed to his seat. “Sa. Sa.”

  Hope stirred. “Chair.”

  The bodiless voice, which Jeannie thought might be a computerized speech program, repeated both words. “Chair. Sa vers chair.”

  “I think we have a way to talk,” Jeannie laughed. She was excited to know she might be able to speak to the Risnarish. To Kren especially.

  Mekay chuckled, looking quite satisfied. He held up a finger. Then he said, “Boknoz.” A word Jeannie already knew.

  The drawing screen popped into being in front of him. He narrowed the tip of his finger and started to write.

  “Jix. Table. Jix.” As he spoke, he drew lines, boxes and dots. “Jix. Jih.” He made a short vertical line and a longer line right next to it. “Ir.” A box the same height as the smaller line. “Zot.” He stabbed his finger at the screen, leaving a dot. He ran his finger in front of the symbols. “Jix. Jix.”

  Jeannie nodded her understanding. She leaned forward to return the favor, writing out her version, the blunt tip of her finger making the letters thick and clumsy next to the Risnarish characters. “T-A-B-L-E. Table.”

  Mekay clapped his hands together, his expression registering triumph. Kren and Arga laughed and cheered.

  Jeannie followed up by spelling out her name for them. Mekay did the same with his. Lines, squares, dots, and triangles made up the confusing pattern. Jeannie wondered if he found her writing as incomprehensible.

  Mekay wiped away their scribbles and wrote a new series of symbols. As he worked, he spoke in a slow, careful measure, as if instructing a child. It took Jeannie a moment to realize he was showing her the Risnarish alphabet.

  When he finished writing, he emphasized that by saying Kren’s name and pointing to the various letters that formed the written version. He did the same for Arga. Then he sat and waited for her to respond, anticipation making him sit on the edge of his chair.

  Jeannie wrote her alphabet below his, pronouncing each letter clearly for the benefit of the translating computer program she was sure she was performing for. After she wrote and said, “Z,” she waved her hand beneath the lineup of letters. “Alphabet.”

  “Alphabet,” Mekay and the system’s voice chorused.

  Jeannie grinned. It was a good start. She dared to hope that in the near future she could have a real conversation with the Risnarish. Particularly Kren. She wanted to hear about him most of all.

  Chapter Seven

  Two hours passed during which Jeannie and Mekay worked on giving the translation program enough information with which to decipher the Earthling’s speech. Arga lost interest early on. He spent time talking with Gurnal, who busied himself making teas and sweet cakes to fortify everyone during the scholar and alien’s endeavors.

  Kren stayed by Jeannie’s side. He wasn’t needed in any capacity, but he couldn’t stop marveling over her. How many times had his gaze traced the graceful lines of her face? He should be tired of looking at her by now. Yet he couldn’t get enough of the way
her eyes crinkled at the corners and the flash of white from her teeth when she smiled. The long column of her throat had to be appreciated time and again. The gentle swell of her breasts beckoned as well, and Kren practically could feel their soft weight in his hands. He made sure to pull his gaze away, not wanting Jeannie to catch his attention wandering where it was not welcome.

  She fired his senses. She shook him to the core. He wanted to wrap his arms around her. Just holding Jeannie would be a joy. Sleeping with her the night before had proven that.

  Kren forced himself to attend the goings-on. Things were proceeding at a faster clip now. Once the system had enough information, it would be able to translate for them both in close to real time. Soon he would be able to speak to her. Soon he would be able to find out about her. How she had escaped the Monsuda. What she thought of him. What things he could do to get her to smile at him.

  He marveled at how fast the translator caught on to Jeannie’s strange speech. Once it had basic knowledge of her alphabet, sounds, words, speech patterns, and syntax, it made real progress. At long last they began to limp through a conversation, broken only when Jeannie said something the translator could not decipher.

  With actual dialogue taking place, Arga and Gurnal regained interest. Everyone gathered in the visiting partition.

  With the translator delaying only a few seconds behind her alien speech, Jeannie told them she came from a heavily populated planet called Earth, which she described as being on the edge of her Milky Way galaxy. Her people were the only sentient species on her world, and there were no other known intelligent beings in her solar system. Kren tried to imagine the loneliness of such a place and could not.

  They soon reached the point where she could begin answering Mekay’s questions of how she’d ended up on Risnar. Kren leaned forward, hoping to hear evidence that would take away all fears of her being a product of the Monsudan labs.

  The system’s halting translation filled the air, using Jeannie’s voice patterns to communicate her words. “I sleep. I wake. Little aliens come. Monsudan slaves.”