song just for me . . .” The comms officer lifted his shoulders one last time. “I still can't get over how happy it made me.”
He turned and walked onto the bridge, and Hal stood, torn between duty and desire. Decided there was nothing he could do on the bridge right now, and that he would very much like to hear what a birthday song sounded like.
That Rose McKenzie and Fiona's views on singing were different to the Grih's was understandable. They were from a different world, a different culture, and one where it seemed music-makers were far more common that among the Grih. That both Fiona and Rose could sing was testament to that.
But a song sung for an individual, using their name . . .
He could barely wrap his mind around the idea, and understood all to well why Gerbardi was so shocked and conflicted.
As he walked to the med chambers, he realized he was sorry his own birthday was months away, and that Fiona Russell would be long gone from his life by the time it came around.
11
A s Fee looked past Pila into the med chamber, she saw two of the beds were occupied. A woman and a man. The man looked worse, but he sat up easily when Pila stepped into the room. The woman lifted herself more gingerly.
There was something in the woman's face when she caught sight of Pila, a warm flush, and Fee guessed exactly why he'd had Mun on his mind when they were talking about birthdays.
“Mun and Hadri, this is Fiona Russell, the orange we found on the Fasbe .”
Mun put her hands together and extended them, and Fee stepped forward to clasp them. “Pleased to meet you.”
Hadri did the same.
“I'm curious, there's a word you used now, Pila, that I think I'm misunderstanding.” Fee really wanted to work this out. “I keep being called an orange. What on earth do you mean by that? I think my Grihan just isn't good enough to understand, but do I really look orange to you?”
That would explain the funny looks, all right.
There was a moment of stunned silence.
“Technically,” Hadri said, and she could hear some discomfort in his tone, “you aren't an orange, because your species is known to us since we encountered Rose McKenzie. All unknown sentient life forms show up as orange on our scanners.”
So it was a technical designation? Fee frowned, and shot a look at Pila.
He was frowning, too. “I didn't mean any disrespect, Fiona. An orange to me is an unknown sentient life form. That's all. You're known, so Hadri's right, you aren't an orange any more, but it's a quick way to let people know you're like Rose McKenzie. The two of you are the first advanced sentients we've come across in over five hundred years, so you may be thought of as an orange for a while.”
So the term meant alien, more or less. She might not like it, but it was true, she was an unknown entity.
“What word would you like us to use instead?” Mun winced as she rearranged herself on the bed, and Pila took a half-step toward her then remembered himself and pulled back.
Fee opened her mouth to say 'human' and then closed it. Human to her went beyond the dictionary definition of homo sapiens . It meant advanced sentient being with the capacity for a myriad of emotions, the intelligence to plan and strategize, and a thirst for knowledge. And that probably described a lot of races in this new corner of the galaxy.
She pondered 'Earthling', because how cool would that be? Then discarded it.
Maybe human was right. Because that would fit her right in with everyone else, if she thought of them as human, too.
“I'm a human.” The difference between Grihan and English was stark. The Grihan sounded short, harsh, and choppy beside the soft double syllable of 'human'.
“Human.” Pila did his best to say it correctly, trying to make up for starting this all with his glib introduction of her as an orange.
The others repeated it, as well.
Their rough voices were so different to the dry rasp of the Garmman, and they mangled the word. But they
He turned and walked onto the bridge, and Hal stood, torn between duty and desire. Decided there was nothing he could do on the bridge right now, and that he would very much like to hear what a birthday song sounded like.
That Rose McKenzie and Fiona's views on singing were different to the Grih's was understandable. They were from a different world, a different culture, and one where it seemed music-makers were far more common that among the Grih. That both Fiona and Rose could sing was testament to that.
But a song sung for an individual, using their name . . .
He could barely wrap his mind around the idea, and understood all to well why Gerbardi was so shocked and conflicted.
As he walked to the med chambers, he realized he was sorry his own birthday was months away, and that Fiona Russell would be long gone from his life by the time it came around.
11
A s Fee looked past Pila into the med chamber, she saw two of the beds were occupied. A woman and a man. The man looked worse, but he sat up easily when Pila stepped into the room. The woman lifted herself more gingerly.
There was something in the woman's face when she caught sight of Pila, a warm flush, and Fee guessed exactly why he'd had Mun on his mind when they were talking about birthdays.
“Mun and Hadri, this is Fiona Russell, the orange we found on the Fasbe .”
Mun put her hands together and extended them, and Fee stepped forward to clasp them. “Pleased to meet you.”
Hadri did the same.
“I'm curious, there's a word you used now, Pila, that I think I'm misunderstanding.” Fee really wanted to work this out. “I keep being called an orange. What on earth do you mean by that? I think my Grihan just isn't good enough to understand, but do I really look orange to you?”
That would explain the funny looks, all right.
There was a moment of stunned silence.
“Technically,” Hadri said, and she could hear some discomfort in his tone, “you aren't an orange, because your species is known to us since we encountered Rose McKenzie. All unknown sentient life forms show up as orange on our scanners.”
So it was a technical designation? Fee frowned, and shot a look at Pila.
He was frowning, too. “I didn't mean any disrespect, Fiona. An orange to me is an unknown sentient life form. That's all. You're known, so Hadri's right, you aren't an orange any more, but it's a quick way to let people know you're like Rose McKenzie. The two of you are the first advanced sentients we've come across in over five hundred years, so you may be thought of as an orange for a while.”
So the term meant alien, more or less. She might not like it, but it was true, she was an unknown entity.
“What word would you like us to use instead?” Mun winced as she rearranged herself on the bed, and Pila took a half-step toward her then remembered himself and pulled back.
Fee opened her mouth to say 'human' and then closed it. Human to her went beyond the dictionary definition of homo sapiens . It meant advanced sentient being with the capacity for a myriad of emotions, the intelligence to plan and strategize, and a thirst for knowledge. And that probably described a lot of races in this new corner of the galaxy.
She pondered 'Earthling', because how cool would that be? Then discarded it.
Maybe human was right. Because that would fit her right in with everyone else, if she thought of them as human, too.
“I'm a human.” The difference between Grihan and English was stark. The Grihan sounded short, harsh, and choppy beside the soft double syllable of 'human'.
“Human.” Pila did his best to say it correctly, trying to make up for starting this all with his glib introduction of her as an orange.
The others repeated it, as well.
Their rough voices were so different to the dry rasp of the Garmman, and they mangled the word. But they
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