the last of a livable atmosphere failed and radiation levels became too dangerous for even one of her hardy race to endure.
She had been born and raised in space, in orbital habitats and space stations and even ships upon which she traveled with her parents as a young child. Coming to this place was a dream come true. Living plants and diverse creatures, plentiful water and lovely natural air…until she let the dream get hold of her sensibility. Povre’s enchantment with K’nt’s bountiful and life-filled world got her in this mess.
She turned and hugged the tree trunk. She pushed with her talent and made contact with the life force that pulsed through the huge living plant. But it was a cold life, and thoughtless but for the need for sunlight and water and soil to spread its roots. The tree didn’t care. It had endured storms, fire, floods, dry spells. It lived only to grow taller, shed needles, grow new ones, and make seeds for future trees that it didn’t even care about. No worry, love, or concern.
“Maybe I can be like this tree,” Povre said to herself. “I wouldn’t hurt as much.”
“Povre.”
His low voice surprised her. Why hadn’t she sensed or heard his approach? Last she checked, he’d been squatting near the food he prepared. Now he stood behind her.
She turned her head. He stood, his arms open, his face soft. “I’m sorry.”
She let go the tree and burrowed into his body. She liked the feel of him and his strong arms hugging her. She surrounded herself with his emotional field. K’nt worried. He cared. Did he, perhaps, love?
The familiar behavior—drawing near to one another in times of need—shared by their races comforted her. She knew, though, as much as she wanted him to hold her and not let go, he’d become uncomfortable. So she backed off after a minute and tried to smile.
He led her back to the tent and the steaming container. The contents smelled good: a thick, pale green liquid he identified as “split pee soup.”
Povre looked at him askance. “Pee?” Hadn’t he told her that “pee” was the human word for urine?
He laughed when he finally understood, laughed so hard his eyes turned wet. She stared in fascination as water formed and dripped from them.
“Not that kind of pee, Povre!” Then he explained about the small edible seed, and words in his language that sounded the same but meant different things. Povre thanked the Goddess that he gave up on the latter and instead brought out his handy notebook.
She leaned close to watch as he made a quick sketch of a plant, a flower, a funny bumpy pod with little round seeds.
“ Pisum sativum ,” he added, an absentminded afterthought. “There’s a related plant that grows wild, Lathyrus odoratus , or the sweet pea, but while it’s a great nitrogen fixer like all legumes, it’s poisonous. Very pretty flowers. It looks like this.”
Povre liked the way he explained with images and words. She liked, as well, that there were special scientific words for things. Why then bother with all the same-same sounding words? Why not just use the correct one in the first place?
She pushed the rush of irritation with his language aside and examined the soup once more, very relieved that it had nothing to do with urine and didn’t contain any ingredients made from animals, because she was starving.
Carefully, she touched her tongue to the hot liquid and found it delicious, if a bit salty. She also enjoyed the stuff he called trail mix, or gorp. He explained it was a mix of fruits and edible seeds and something called khandee . The colored round things with the brown sweet stuff inside, the khandee , she didn’t care for at all. Since K’nt said those round colored bits were the best part, Povre gave all hers to him in trade for the dried fruit in his share.
“T IME FOR SLEEP. I'M going to clean up a little. You go ahead, go into the tent.” Kent took himself off to do his part in woodland fertilization and perform a
She had been born and raised in space, in orbital habitats and space stations and even ships upon which she traveled with her parents as a young child. Coming to this place was a dream come true. Living plants and diverse creatures, plentiful water and lovely natural air…until she let the dream get hold of her sensibility. Povre’s enchantment with K’nt’s bountiful and life-filled world got her in this mess.
She turned and hugged the tree trunk. She pushed with her talent and made contact with the life force that pulsed through the huge living plant. But it was a cold life, and thoughtless but for the need for sunlight and water and soil to spread its roots. The tree didn’t care. It had endured storms, fire, floods, dry spells. It lived only to grow taller, shed needles, grow new ones, and make seeds for future trees that it didn’t even care about. No worry, love, or concern.
“Maybe I can be like this tree,” Povre said to herself. “I wouldn’t hurt as much.”
“Povre.”
His low voice surprised her. Why hadn’t she sensed or heard his approach? Last she checked, he’d been squatting near the food he prepared. Now he stood behind her.
She turned her head. He stood, his arms open, his face soft. “I’m sorry.”
She let go the tree and burrowed into his body. She liked the feel of him and his strong arms hugging her. She surrounded herself with his emotional field. K’nt worried. He cared. Did he, perhaps, love?
The familiar behavior—drawing near to one another in times of need—shared by their races comforted her. She knew, though, as much as she wanted him to hold her and not let go, he’d become uncomfortable. So she backed off after a minute and tried to smile.
He led her back to the tent and the steaming container. The contents smelled good: a thick, pale green liquid he identified as “split pee soup.”
Povre looked at him askance. “Pee?” Hadn’t he told her that “pee” was the human word for urine?
He laughed when he finally understood, laughed so hard his eyes turned wet. She stared in fascination as water formed and dripped from them.
“Not that kind of pee, Povre!” Then he explained about the small edible seed, and words in his language that sounded the same but meant different things. Povre thanked the Goddess that he gave up on the latter and instead brought out his handy notebook.
She leaned close to watch as he made a quick sketch of a plant, a flower, a funny bumpy pod with little round seeds.
“ Pisum sativum ,” he added, an absentminded afterthought. “There’s a related plant that grows wild, Lathyrus odoratus , or the sweet pea, but while it’s a great nitrogen fixer like all legumes, it’s poisonous. Very pretty flowers. It looks like this.”
Povre liked the way he explained with images and words. She liked, as well, that there were special scientific words for things. Why then bother with all the same-same sounding words? Why not just use the correct one in the first place?
She pushed the rush of irritation with his language aside and examined the soup once more, very relieved that it had nothing to do with urine and didn’t contain any ingredients made from animals, because she was starving.
Carefully, she touched her tongue to the hot liquid and found it delicious, if a bit salty. She also enjoyed the stuff he called trail mix, or gorp. He explained it was a mix of fruits and edible seeds and something called khandee . The colored round things with the brown sweet stuff inside, the khandee , she didn’t care for at all. Since K’nt said those round colored bits were the best part, Povre gave all hers to him in trade for the dried fruit in his share.
“T IME FOR SLEEP. I'M going to clean up a little. You go ahead, go into the tent.” Kent took himself off to do his part in woodland fertilization and perform a
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