The Qitan knew about the Ehkin. They shared a sun. They insisted that even though there were many differences, the Ehkin were also one of their tribe. Mother rarely shouted, but I remember one night, not long after the mothers of Ashnahta got angry, that Mother vented on Dad for hours.
"I don't understand what the Qitan see in the Ehkin, Lance. I just don't. They don't even have eyes, for god's sake! They aren't the same species, and I'm not being mean by pointing that out."
"Now, Eunice, calm down. It's just a difference in the way you see the world..."
"A difference? It's science, Lance! Science! And science cannot be ignored! We are not the same as the Qitan. We just aren't. And Morhal's assertion that we're anything at all like the Ehkin is...well, it's downright offensive! They don't even know how to make a spear. We're talking cavemen, Lance. Less than!"
It was one of those nights where I felt very bad for Dad. Mother was both right and wrong, and I could see both sides of it. Maybe it helped that I had Little Blob for a friend. Maybe that made me appreciate them. So he didn't have eyes. So what? He was still the first friend I had off ship. He would lead me around and show me his world. His parents got mad at him when he strayed too far. I could hear the thoughts in mine. Feelings, more like it. They speak with feelings.
Maybe that's it right there, why Mother cannot "hear" them. She's too interested in science and not in feelings. If she'd just put down the com, stop taking data samples, and forget that DNA exists, she might have a better time with them.
Little Blob cried for me when I left. He has no eyes. He eats through osmosis. He can't ever run on two legs because he hasn't got any. But he cried for me when I left. He's my tribe.
And then just about a year later, I made my best friend, Ashnahta. While we were orbiting the Ehkin home planet, we received an invitation from the Qitani. The Qitani satisfied Mother's science side. It's why we've spent so much time here on what Xavier insists is called v-2447 and what the Qitan have really named Laak'sa. All the crew but Xavier calls it Laak'sa. Dad outright ordered Xavier to call it that as well. "I outrank you by a lifetime, Xavier!" Dad reminded him.
"It's on my charts as v-2447 and that's what I'm calling it."
"But it's not ours to name you...you..."
"Watch it, Captain. Your brat's right there."
Laak'sa is a Qitani word that means "Peaceful Center". HuTA said it is almost a mythological reference, that the center has something to do with the soul. Or a god. Something like that. He must be right, because the people themselves are so far from peaceful that it can't be literal. I was allowed to meet Ashnahta only because it was unsafe for me to interact with anyone without knowing their customs. Morhal, a great leader and Ashnahta's primary mother, told my mother that whenever I was on their soil, I must have Ashnahta by my side.
Ashnahta was not shy. Why should she be? She is the daughter of the two leaders of Laak'sa and could pretty much do whatever she wanted. There was nothing to be shy about for her, so she wasn't. Or very nice, for that matter. Not at first, anyway. She did not know my language and it was clear it would be my job to learn hers since it was beneath her to learn mine. I'm the one that had to suffer the embarrassment of trying to get my tongue to make the weird slurring words they use. It was almost a year of torture before she accidentally let it slip that she could communicate like the Ehkin. She was "talking" to a friend of hers in her language, and I was listening, trying hard to translate in my head, when all of a sudden it all clicked and I understood exactly what she was saying. She was telling her friend that my clothing was particularly silly that day, and wondering why it was I did nothing at all to try and make myself look less like a joke. Something to that effect.
"It's not my fault I need a suit here," I said in my defense.
She turned to me quickly. "What?"
"My suit. I know it's stupid, but I have to wear it. I'm sorry it's not as nice as your jewels." That's what I meant, though I doubt that's exactly what I said.
She was frowning. "I wasn't talking about your suit," she said slowly. And then I heard, or felt is more like it, her ask her friend if she thought I could inspeak. Her friend said that "none of them" could. I heard, or felt, it. But her friend wasn't speaking.
It was natural. I could do it without even trying. It was simply how Little Blob and I spoke. I couldn't teach you how to do it. It just...is. I got mad when I realized they could speak the same way. "You mean I've spent this past year making myself look like a moron trying to say your impossible words when we could have just done this all along?" I didn't say it out loud. I didn't have to. And while in spoken language there are things that never translate, in feelings, in thoughts, the brain automatically puts the ideas in terms the other can understand without trying. I was angry because I felt like I had been tricked for the amusement of others. Ashnahta was just astounded that I was smart enough to inspeak. That offended me even more until she explained that her primary had been trying all year to teach Mother or Dad or anyone on the crew to do the same.
We have had many hours of many days in mutual thought on this subject. I think I'm right when I say that the adults can't do it because they learned early on that they could not and accepted it. No one inspeaks on Earth. In fact, I have it on HuTA's authority that those who try are considered ridiculous on Earth. When Mother found out I could inspeak, she believed it was something Little Blob did to me, no matter how much I've tried to convince her otherwise. He did nothing to me. He just talked. And I heard.
Maybe Mother was prejudiced, in her way.
Morhal learned our language. She had several others learn it as well. Mother and Dad struggled, but got Qitani down to a passable level. And then the adults who could finally understand each other spent their days and sometimes nights exchanging information and we children were left alone.
I was a child, anyway. Ashnahta was quickly becoming a lady. I couldn't understand. I still almost don't, to tell you the truth. I was fifteen, almost sixteen, in human years. I was just starting to get a mustache. I'd finally grown into my space suit and no longer had to hold it on with straps and belts and tape. And I could see out of the entire helmet. And yet, I was no where near being a man. I was not an adult. And Ashnahta, she was half my age, and she was being pressured to wed and have her family. When I actually sat and tried to wrap my head around it, when I tried to compare to what I knew of my own progression, the stories of my parents and the crew members, it was just too great of a difference for my mind to overcome. So, I simply didn't. I did what my parents and the other adults on board could not...I ignored it. I accepted the difference and moved on. There was no need to hyper analyze every single detail. If I did, I'd be in the same rut as the adults. I didn't want to be in a rut. I just wanted to play with my friends.