Teuvo shrugged. “It’s a little spooky, watching them. Do you think it’ll make a difference tomorrow?”
“We will both find out. This is a new thing. I’ve never tried it before. I won’t do it again, if you don’t want me to.”
“Just tell me first.”
They stood silently together watching the horses.
“I wish they weren’t going back to the outer level after we’ve finished with the harvest,” Teuvo said with a regretful grimace. “It’s so much more convenient working with them here. And I’m getting too old to deal with the gravity out there.”
“I don’t understand getting old, Teuvo. What’s it like?”
Teuvo looked at him, one white eyebrow raised. “From what Juna tells me, you know a lot more about it than I do.”
“We grow older but we do not”—Ukatonen paused, searching for the right word—“age as you do. Our bodies do not wear out. Unless we are unlucky, we get to tell our bodies when to die. Here it is your bodies that tell you when you will die. What is that like for you?”
“Our lives have a rhythm to them, Ukatonen. At first we are young and active— our lives are full of exploration and discovery. Then we mature, and have children. Then we get old. We have some time to enjoy the fruits of our lives, and watch our children and grandchildren grow up. There’s nearly ninety years of experience inside this head. That’s a lot of good memories. I like being able to look back on a broad sweep of time. Soon it’ll be time to let go, let the next generation come up to take my place.”
He sighed. “But as nice as all that sounds, I don’t want to die yet, Ukatonen. I like the life that I have. I built this vineyard, planted those grapes. Now it’s doing well, and I want to enjoy that. I want to see what happens to my children and grandchildren. I’m not ready to leave yet, but I know that no matter what, my body is going to continue to decline.
“To tell the truth, growing old is mostly unpleasant. Everything hurts. You get tired more easily. Every time you forget something, you wonder whether your mind is going.” He sighed again. “That’s what I worry about most, you know, my body keeping on going while my mind is gone. Though the other option, having an intact mind while my body doesn’t work, is pretty bad too. I don’t want to wind up like— ” He paused.
“Toivo?” Ukatonen prompted.
Teuvo nodded and looked down at the ground. Ukatonen watched him, wishing he understood human expressions as well as Moki did. Clearly Teuvo was saddened by his son’s injury, but he sensed that there was more to it than that.
“There were times when I wanted Toivo to die,” Teuvo confessed. “I actually wanted my own son to die.”
“I don’t understand you humans,” the enkar said. “A Tendu crippled beyond healing would have chosen death. Why do you humans try so hard to live?”
“I think you said it yourself, Ukatonen. The Tendu choose when to die, and we humans have death forced on us. As a result, we cling to life, even when it is easier and sometimes better to die. Toivo did try to kill himself once. We managed to save him.”
“Why?”
“When Toivo was injured, we didn’t know if Juna was still alive. I thought that Toivo was the only child I had left,” he said. “Besides, there wasn’t much time for thinking about it when we found him. We got him to the hospital immediately.” Teuvo looked back at the horses, still grazing in sync. “After he got out of the hospital, he left for the zero-gee satellite. Being,here broke his heart, I think. Every day he was reminded of all the things he couldn’t do anymore. I’m still amazed that he came back to see Juna. I guess he hadn’t said goodbye to her yet.”
They stood silently in the morning light, watching the horses.
“How soon will Toivo be well again?” Teuvo asked.
“We’ll be done with our work in a week or so. It would be faster if Juna weren’t pregnant, but we have to be careful about the baby. After we’re done, then Toivo will have to learn to use his body again. That could take months.”
“Could I—?” Teuvo began.
“Yes, Teuvo?” Ukatonen prompted.
“I wanted to know what it was like. Linking, I mean. Perhaps I could help when Juna gets tired?”
“Thank you,” Ukatonen said, “We’d be honored to have your help. It will make the work go much faster.”
They gathered up the bucket of treats and the lead rope and headed back to the barn.
“I’m worried about Moki,” Teuvo remarked as they put their gear away in the tack room. “He wants to try to work things out with Bruce, to ‘achieve harmony’ as he puts it. I don’t think he understands how irrational we humans can be when it comes to our children. I’m afraid that he’s going to get hurt. Keep an eye on him, please.”
“I’ll try,” Ukatonen promised. “I would like to achieve harmony with Bruce, too, but I will keep your words in mind when we speak to him. Tell me, what would be the best way to approach this?”
“To be honest,” Teuvo admitted, “I don’t think you can work this one out, Ukatonen. Bruce has made up his mind that this is a bad idea. If I thought I could stop Moki from interfering, I would, but he’s such a determined youngster.”
Under the muffling confinement of his warm suit, Ukatonen rippled amusement. “Determination is what Moki’s best at,” he agreed, remembering the little one’s dogged pursuit of Eerin through the forest, determined to either be adopted or die.
“Well, Ukatonen, enough playing with horses. It’s time to get back to work,” Teuvo said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Same time tomorrow, eh? and we’ll see how well those two work together.”
Ukatonen nodded, a pale blue flicker of affection appearing on his skin as he watched Teuvo head to the winery.
Moki didn’t have a chance to talk to Bruce until after lunch, when he went out for a walk.
“Can I show you the forest?” Moki asked. “It’s beautiful, and very quiet. I think you’d like it.”
Bruce accepted, and the two of them walked in silence through the vineyards and the orchards. The leaves on the trees and vines were bright red and yellow, as though the plants were angry at the cold weather. Moki mentioned this to Bruce, and he smiled and shook his head.
“You say the damnedest things, Moki. What makes you think they’re angry?”
“Yellow and red are the colors for irritation and anger,” Moki explained. “If the trees were Tendu, that’s what they’d be feeling.” He looked up at Bruce. “What makes you think I would harm your daughter?”
Bruce let out a long sigh, and stopped walking. “Moki, I’ve just spent all morning going over this with Juna and that damned lawyer of hers. I came out here to get away from all of that shit for a while.”
Moki turned contritely tan all over. “I’m sorry, Bruce, but it’s important for me to understand what you’re thinking. I don’t want to be out of harmony with a friend.”
“Moki, I— Dammit Moki, if it weren’t for the Tendu, I wouldn’t be in this mess!”
“That’s true,” Moki observed, “and if it weren’t for Juna, I would be dead. We can’t change the past, Bruce, we can only live with what is. Adopting me has made my sitik’s life more difficult. Even so simple a thing as having a child is a struggle for her now. That shames me, because a bami is supposed to make a sitik’s life easier. But we care about each other, and that helps.”
“If Juna cared about me, she wouldn’t be putting me through this!”
“But if you cared more about Eerin, perhaps you would understand why she is doing this,” Moki replied. “Eerin wants this child with her whole heart. She was willing to be put in a cage for this child. She is willing to be out of harmony with the Survey, and with Population Control and even with me. She is frightened by how much she wants this baby. It is a human thing. I do not understand it, but I wish to learn. I wish to understand something that is so precious to Eerin, and to you. It is important, because it will help me understand my atwa.”