“Ukatonen changed me back again,” Juna told him. “You’ll meet him later.” She drew Moki into the comm’s viewfield. “This is Moki, Isi, he’s my adopted son.”
“Hello,” Moki said. “It’s good to meet you.” A flicker of pale orange nervousness forked like lightning down the bami’s back. Juna touched him lightly, reassuringly, on the shoulder.
Her father looked from Juna to Moki and back again for a long moment. Juna’s heart caught in her throat. She should have waited, should have broken the news more gently…
Then her father’s seamed face broke into a wide smile. “Hei, tyttarenpoika. Welcome to the family. Puhutteko suomea?”
Sudden relief brought tears. Her father had just referred to Moki as his grandson. He was willing to accept him as part of the family.
Moki looked up at her, purple with puzzlement.
“He wants to know if you speak Finnish,” she translated, wiping away the tears.
Moki’s ears lifted, and he shook his head.
“Well, then,” her father said, “we’ll teach you.”
“When are you coming home?” Danan asked.
“First they have to let us out of quarantine. I don’t know when they’ll do that,” she told them, shaking her head. “They’re worried about the Tendu. Ukatonen and Moki aren’t well, but it’s more like a case of severe homesickness. There really isn’t any reason to keep us here. The Tendu don’t have anything contagious, and none of the humans have been sick.” The security telltale at the top of her screen was blinking, warning her that her words were being cut off.
“Juna? Can you hear us?” her father asked. “Is everything all right?”
Juna pressed the Acknowledge key and the security telltale stopped blinking. “I’m sorry, Isi— there was a problem with the comm at my end. Can you hear me?”
Her family nodded.
“Hopefully, they’ll let us out in a few days. So, tell me, how is everyone?” Juna asked, steering the conversation away from dangerous ground.
Anetta, Danan, and her father fell all over themselves telling her the news. Juna’s fame had brought reporters to the vineyard. The subsequent coverage had increased interest in the winery, and sales were booming, helped by several extremely good years.
“We bought another ten hectares just spinward of Toivo’s place, and we’ve still got enough in the bank to send Danan to the best college in the system!” her father told her proudly.
Juna smiled. There had been so many years of struggle; at last the family was prosperous.
“And Toivo? How is he?”
A shadow crossed her father’s face. “Not so good, dear. He tried to kill himself last March. We stopped him, but he moved to one of those zero-gee colonies a few months later.”
Juna glanced at Danan, who was looking stony and determined. Clearly he missed his father very much.
“You talk to him, dear. Maybe you can get him to come back,” her aunt told her.
Tears welled up in Juna’s eyes. “I’ll try, Netta, I’ll try.”
“Harvest starts next month. I hope you can make it,” her father said. “We can’t wait to see you and your little one. What was his name again?”
“Moki, Isi, his name is Moki,” Juna reminded him.
“Bring Moki, and the other one.” Juna heard the question in his voice.
“Ukatonen, Isi”
“Bring Ukatonen, too, but most importantly, bring yourself.” Her father reached out and touched the viewscreen. “We’ve missed you so much.”
“I’ll come, Isukki” she said. “We’ll all come. Thank you.” She reached out and touched her father’s fingers on the screen. “We’ll come as soon as we can. Good-bye.”
Juna’s eyes were brimming with tears as she broke the connection. Her father, Anetta, and Danan were all right, and they were looking forward to meeting the Tendu. But there was still Toivo to worry about. She wiped her tears of joy away and keyed in the comm address for him with a heavy heart.
The comm rang several times, followed by the familiar ascending chime that signaled a recorded message. Toivo’s face appeared on the screen. He looked at least a decade older than Juna remembered; his face seemed thinner, more haggard, tired and cynical.
His message was ordinary enough, but his voice sounded harsh and bitter. A descending chime prompted her to record her own message.
“Hello, brother,” she said in Amharic, which had been their private language since their time together in a refugee camp. “I’m back. I heard about the accident and I want to talk to you about it. Danan, Father, and Netta send their love. They want you to come back. I want to see you too. Please come for a few days at least.”
Juna turned off the comm program, leaned back, and closed her eyes. Moki touched her shoulder. She looked up at him. He held out his arms in the wordless gesture for linking.
“We should find Ukatonen first,” Juna said.
“He’s probably still in the garden,” Moki told her.
“Let’s go check on him.”
They found the enkar sleeping in the garden. They sat in the sunflower circle, and watched him sleep.
“Moki, what are we going to do about Ukatonen?”
“I don’t know, siti. What can we do?”
Juna shook her head, feeling the crushing weight of responsibility on her shoulders. “I wish I knew, bai. I wish I knew.”
Moki wandered the corridors of the ship. It was two hours before first watch, and the ship was quiet. Worry woke him, and the desire to think through his worries kept him awake. He entered the dimly lit garden, crept into the living shelter of beans and sunflowers, and curled up there to think.
Ukatonen was getting worse. He moved as slowly as a morra during the few hours of the day he managed to stay awake. Coaxing and time in the garden did nothing to bring the enkar back to life. If only they could get off this ship, and go to Eerin’s family. Eerin had told him that there were trees there, some big enough to climb. He closed his eyes and thought wistfully of the huge rain forest giants he had lived in. You could go all the way from the seashore to the mountains without ever touching the ground. He missed hunting, missed the smell of green in his nostrils, and the shimmer of birdsong and animal calls in his ears so loud and constant that it was almost as palpable as the trees themselves, and the warm breezes heavy with moisture after a rainfall…
He sat up, shaking his head irritably. He was getting as bad as Ukatonen, and if that happened he would be no help at all.
Juna buttoned up her dress uniform jacket. It had been a hell of a week. Morale was declining and tempers were getting short. A fistfight broke out in the galley. There were several incidents of drunkenness severe enough to warrant confining the offenders to quarters. One belligerent drunk had to be locked up in the brig. The Tendu weren’t the only ones suffering from their confinement.
Juna looked herself over in the mirror. She was being especially careful of her appearance these days. Looking slovenly would only add to the morale problems aboard ship. She tucked a stray tuft of hair behind one ear, picked up her files, and set off for the weekly staff meeting.
Commander Sussman looked tired. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot. “I’m sorry to report that there has been no change in our quarantine status,” she said. “My sources tell me there’s a huge debate raging among the Survey hierarchy about what to do with the Tendu. I have a feeling they’re going to keep us in quarantine until they reach a consensus.”
“That could be a life sentence!” Dr. Caisson protested.
“I know,” the commander said. “I’ve filed protests with the Survey and with the union, but I doubt it’ll do any good.”