How six saved the frogs, p.4
How Six Saved the Frogs, page 4
When he put his hands on Red Fur’s wrappings, Jack made a sound, and Nif looked up.
“You can remove his wrappings if you need to.”
Oh. Nif refused to acknowledge the colours his skin flashed, but the idea of seeing a human without wrappings thrilled him.
Jack didn’t react to Nif’s obvious interest nor the flashes of frustration as he struggled with the wrappings. They weren’t easy to remove. The top part went all around, and Nif couldn’t understand which way they were supposed to go or how humans put those wrappings on.
“Let me show you,” Jack clucked, and lifted the edge of the wrappings. “We pull these over our heads.”
Nif observed the way Jack grabbed the wrappings in his hands and pulled front and back up at the same time, and over Red Fur’s head. The wrappings clung to Red Fur’s arms until Jack freed them with another tug. He folded the wrappings in intricate motions that ended up as a neat square. Interesting.
“I don’t think I need to take his lower wrappings off. You can start now.”
Nif flashed a thank you and put his pads on Red Fur’s skin. The dotted pale skin felt thicker than bani skin, dryer, too, though a lot of moisture had gathered on it. Maybe that was why the wrappings had felt so soggy when they were taking it off. As though the skin was secreting liquids. There were so many of the dark spots covering Red Fur’s skin, in all shapes and sizes. Would Jack’s darker skin show lighter spots? Maybe not. His face didn’t seem to contain any spots at all.
Pads fastened to Red Fur’s skin, Nif closed his eyes and focussed on what he could sense. The skin was thicker and had several layers. Slowly, Nif’s senses penetrated that skin and sank deeper into Red Fur. It took time for his energy to flow through the whole of Red Fur’s body. He was tall, broad, and it took a lot more energy to complete the path. But when the connection between his hands closed, he could breathe easier, and an image of how Red Fur’s body worked seeped into Nif’s healing brain. There were many dark blue lines, so Red Fur wasn’t in such a poor condition. The most unhealthy, feverish yellow lines ran through his head, neck, and stomach area—only one stomach, but a lot of bowels, thick and thin.
A quick tracking of those lines informed Nif solving the headache—neck and head—was the most important. Also, the most difficult to fix. Once he’d solved that, Nif was certain Red Fur would wake up soon enough. The question was whether Nif would have enough energy to solve the stomach problem after that. Wouldn’t want the human to spew liquids again. That reeked.
Jack, meanwhile, asked the council about the arrival of another colleague. Because of the implant, Nif couldn’t tune all of it out, but the more he focussed on what he was doing, the less other sounds intruded.
Easing the sour yellow from the head and neck was tough. Even when bani suffered pains in the same area, the area was smaller to begin with, and there were fewer connections linked to that spot. The way Red Fur’s head and neck were connected seemed as intricate as bani stomachs. So many parts of the body came together there.
Nif found it hard to keep his pads connected to Red Fur. His own system repeatedly sent signals he needed a break, but he wasn’t done. He ignored those warnings. He could risk tapping into his reserves. There would be plenty of time to rest afterwards. By the time Nif was running low on energy, Red Fur’s head and neck problems had eased, and, to Nif’s surprise, with it the stomach issues—more intricate connections, it seemed. The last remnants barely took a moment to soothe.
Once he was done, Nif stumbled away from Red Fur to where the ground was soft and mushy. He wriggled his hands deep into the cool mud and let the sour yellow seep into the soil, cleaning his energy, though not replenishing him. He needed sleep for that.
Someone grabbed him as he closed his eyes, and dragged him away. Nif didn’t sense who and didn’t care. All he wanted was to sleep. And the moment he was deposited into a leaf, he let go and drifted off.
Wouter regained consciousness coddled in muggy heat to an upbeat song from some boy band or another. His clothes stuck to his skin, but the ground beneath him no longer seemed slippery and wet. Or smelly. Or not as heavy, at least. More distant. Less foul.
His stomach calmed down, too. The headache, not so much. It wasn’t the worst one he’d ever had, but it made him reluctant to open his eyes. Clucking resonated in the distance. Maybe he could lie here, wherever here was, for a bit longer and just enjoy the music. Come to think of it, how was he hearing Earth music on this strange planet?
“You can fake being unconscious for as long as you like. It won’t help you.”
Wouter stiffened. That wasn’t clucking. That was plain English. British, if he had to guess. He opened his eyes and stared straight into the muzzle of a gun. These frog aliens had guns? No. This wasn’t a frog. None of them wore grey clothing.
For a moment, his eyes went blurry. He knew that outfit. Alliance gear. He’d seen Ruben in it often enough when he was on his way to an assignment. In several shades of grey, and black. “Ruben?” But, of course, it wasn’t Ruben. Ruben was…
“Ruben’s dead, you tosspot. Who the soddeck are you?”
Wouter reeled at the casual mention of Ruben’s death. With curses like that, the speaker was definitely British, though. He raised his hands. Not that he thought it would do much against a gun. “Are you the one who wrecked his flat?”
“Of course I sodding didn’t… Wait! What do you mean, ‘wrecked’?”
As Wouter blinked, the person behind the gun became clearer. Cropped black hair and a brown, sweaty face. Slender build, lips pressed into a thin line, and narrowed eyes. Lying on his back, Wouter could only guess at their height, but a head shorter than him, for sure. Still taller than the frogs. “As in drawers pulled out of cupboards, the contents strewn across the flat, upturned furniture. That kind of wrecked.”
“I’ve never been—”
Wouter was certain they’d been about to say “in his flat”. That meant they knew where Ruben lived.
“It still doesn’t explain who you are.” They raised one arm as if they were checking their watch.
Being held at gunpoint, not to mention on an alien world, Wouter saw no reason to hide his identity from someone who seemed to know Ruben. “Wouter. Wouter Heiland. Ruben’s brother.”
“His… what?” They jerked their gun to the side and stared at Wouter. “You’re a caretaker, he said. What the soddeck are you doing here?”
“I was kind of hoping you could tell me… after you put your gun away, because I have no clue, and I don’t understand all the clucking.” And how did this person know he was a caretaker?
They lowered the gun with a snort and checked their watch again. “It’s a stun gun. Set to low.”
Like that meant anything to Wouter. He rolled over, slowly, to avoid upsetting his stomach or his head, and put his hands on the ground. So far, so good. He liked this non-slick surface. With its curly stems and round leaves, it looked a little like moss, if he squinted at it. It gave way under his hands as he pushed himself up, and bounced back when he sat and put his hands on his knees.
“Are you going to throw up again?”
“No.” His stomach seemed fine. For the moment, at least. Neck still pinched, though the music echoing around them changing to something mellow helped.
“Good. Stay here.” They kept an eye on him as they stepped back into some bushes. “No more arrivals?”
Who were they speaking to? Were there more humans? But then someone clucked. The frogs. Of course. And they seemed to understand them. Had they understood Wouter, too?
“Thank you. Please, keep watching.”
They sounded worried about something. Something more than Wouter, it seemed. More clucking.
Wouter blinked. “You understood all that?”
The clucking stopped, and they all stared at Wouter.
The Alliance person tapped a spot behind their ear. “The wonders of technology.”
“Oh. Right.” Ruben had mentioned an implant. Something about minimising the risk of losing their earpieces. Wouter could sure use one of those old-fashioned earpieces right now.
Some frogs left, and the person joined Wouter on the moss-not-moss.
“I asked them to bring my bags. I brought food bars and water with me.” They held out their hand. “Jack Frye he/him. I work…” He swallowed. “I worked with Ruben. Are you really his brother?”
Wouter nodded as he shook Jack’s hand and mumbled his pronouns, regretting it when his neck sent all sorts of alarm signals through his head. He closed his eyes and took a breath. The air here smelled stale more than foul, but he didn’t dare inhale too deeply.
“Headache?”
He refrained from nodding. That would be a mistake. “Yes.”
“Their healer checked you out earlier, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind another look.” He waved to somewhere in the trees, then added. “And I have some painkillers in my bag, too.”
Maybe Ruben’s bag held some as well. He should check.
“So. His flat was wrecked?”
“Yes. It was a mess. I wish I could have caught the bastard, but they were too fast.”
“You were there?”
“I…” It was a good thing Wouter already had his eyes closed. “I was going to pack up his flat. They came storming out when I opened the door.”
“When did this happen?”
“How long was I out?”
Jack shrugged. “An hour or so. Not that it matters. Times don’t align. There’s still a bit of daylight left here.”
“Yesterday morning, then.” Had it only been a day? Wouter opened his eyes and waved his arms about. “This happened after midnight.”
Oh. Chips. His family. “Is there any way I can contact Ma?” Or Jos. Yes. Then he could tell Ma what happened, so she wouldn’t worry. He doubted he could just call him. He patted himself down. Where was his phonet?
Jack blinked. Then something sad passed across his face. “Sorry. No.” For a moment, it seemed as if he was going to say more, but then he shook his head.
Ma would be pissed off when he got home. He hated making her worry.
“About that burglary. You’ll need to be more specific. What date?”
“June 10th.”
“That’s three weeks after—”
“Yes.” Wouter didn’t want to hear the words.
“Anything taken?”
The notebook. He didn’t dare check if he still had it with Jack watching him, though. “Nothing that I know of. His media equipment hadn’t even been touched. The police techs went over the place as well.”
“The bani, that’s what their species is called, found this after we moved you.” Jack held up the travel disc. “How did you get this? Did you find it in Ruben’s flat?”
Wouter almost grabbed for it, but he held himself still and only stared. “No. He sent it to me.”
Jack frowned. “He sent it? To you?”
“It was in an envelope in the back of a memslat disc case he sent me. For my birthday.” Even though that wasn’t for a while, yet. “It arrived this morning.”
Jack twirled the disc between his fingers. “A memslat case.” He whistled. “Those are ancient. Why the soddeck would he do that?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” Wouter stared at the disc. “Look. I’m sorry. I thought it was a letter, and I tried to stop my phonet from reading it when I realised it wasn’t… and I failed. I know I’m not supposed to be here. So, maybe you should let me take the disc so I can go home.”
For a long time, Jack said nothing. Two frogs—bani—approached with a thermos and two small, grey packages. Jack accepted it, and handed a package and the thermos to Wouter.
“Don’t drink too much. This is all we have until we set up my water cleaning station. I have plenty of food bars if you’re still hungry after this one.”
Wouter sipped some water, handed the thermos to Jack, and nibbled on the food bar. “So. You’re not letting me take the disc?”
Holding up his hand, Jack finished chewing. He sighed. “It’s not that. I can give you the disc, but it won’t matter. They’re locked until we finish the job we were hired to do. That Ruben and I were hired to do. You’re stuck here until then.”
“How long?” Wouter hung his head. Stuck here with Ma wondering what had happened to him. Making her think she’d not just lost one son, but two.
“Two weeks after his funeral, right? That’s what you said?”
“Yes.” What did that have to do with it?
“No matter how long this assignment takes, the discs are programmed to return us to base a month after our departure date. That means you should be back a week after you left.”
That was still a week of Ma worrying herself sick. She was definitely going to kill him when he got back. If he got back. And what was he supposed to do on this planet until then?
Five
Trying New Things
Red Fur no longer resembled a pitiful heap of alien when Nif arrived. Best of all, he wasn’t spewing fluids anymore. He was even chewing on something, which meant Nif’s treatment had worked. Yet the council had called for his help.
Nif ignored Rut trying to grab his attention with her flashing as he moved from leaf to leaf. He refused to be distracted by her distrust. If these humans couldn’t lead them to their winter habitat… it didn’t bear thinking about.
He let go of the leaves and landed close to the humans. As one, they turned their heads towards him. Their eyes seemed larger for a moment. Red Fur’s were the colour of the smooth mud he liked to sink his hands into after a healing. Jack’s narrowed, and Nif couldn’t help but wonder what that meant.
Nif’s limbs quivered like a baby’s first time on land, despite his replenishing sleep, that had already been longer than he usually needed. He’d have to report to the council that healing humans took more energy than healing bani.
Jack gestured with his arms, but Nif stayed put, not knowing what the gestures meant.
“Could you ease his headache?” Jack clucked, waving his arm at Red Fur this time.
Even though his skin already showed his agreement, Jack kept staring at him as if waiting for an answer. So, Nif searched his mind for something that meant the same and replied with a quiet “Positive,” that Jack seemed to understand. He moved his head up and down and sat back.
Nif had no idea what that meant. The implant didn’t translate the head-moving. Jack hadn’t seemed to understand Nif’s flashing agreement, either. Maybe these implants only understood vocal language. Something else the council should know.
Nif approached Red Fur, flashed him a friendly greeting, and, without waiting for a reply, settled into a high crouch behind his back. He hovered his fingers very close to the fur covering Red Fur’s head, wriggling them as he closed his eyes, tasting the energy coming from beneath the fur. Some lingering sourness leaked through that shouldn’t be hard to balance out. This small amount of sourness was not enough to require touching Red Fur, but Nif couldn’t resist.
The red fur was coarse like sefoni fur, but soft at the same time. There was no hiding his reaction to how all these tiny strands growing out of Red Fur’s head tickled him as they drifted past Nif’s pads. Though, they were masked by his skin reflecting his healing progress as well as his feelings. The tips of the fur prickled like tet leaves, despite waving in the breeze like grass. And there was so much of it, too, as Nif moved his fingers through the fur to take away the sourness.
Red Fur let out a sound the implant didn’t pick up, and Nif froze. Was he hurting them? He peeked around the fur to Jack, who moved his arms again.
“Why did they stop?” Red Fur asked.
A shiver ran through Nif at the sound of Red Fur’s clucking. Jack was still watching him. “Is he in pain?”
Jack scrunched up his face and opened his mouth, letting out the loudest clucking Nif had heard from him. Then he shook his head and clucked, “No. You’re not. Go on.”
As Nif returned to pulling the sourness out of Red Fur’s strands, Red Fur asked, “What did they cluck?”
“He thought he was hurting you.”
Red Fur tensed for a moment. “Right. No…” The implant didn’t pick up what Red Fur clucked. “He’s male?”
“Yes. According to my information, there aren’t many mixed bani. Most are male or female. This is Nif. And he’s our healer for this trek.”
Jack’s pronunciation of Nif’s name was good enough. A bit on the sharp side, maybe. Then again. Nif had had to repeat his name to the living machine, recording it many times before the sefoni who controlled it had been satisfied. It might have well sounded like that in the end. He was right about mixed bani. He only knew of a few himself, one of Rut’s polymates amongst them.
“Well…” Red Fur tried to turn his head, but Nif stopped him. “You’re doing a good job, Nif. My head’s feeling a lot better.”
Nif flashed gratitude with a hint of satisfaction.
“Good,” Jack clucked. “Saves on painkillers. We only have a limited supply of those.”
Red Fur shuddered, but he didn’t cluck weird sounds this time.
“Mind if I go through Ruben’s basket later?” Jack asked.
What was a ruben’s basket? It felt wrong to eavesdrop on them, but Nif couldn’t exactly help overhearing their conversation while he was healing Red Fur, could he? Besides, the entire clan had been curious about what these humans packed in their baskets. Maybe now they’d find out.
“You probably know better about what Ruben packed for work than I do.”
Ah. Ruben was a name, not a type of basket.
“He often packs…packed translators.”
Red Fur tensed, and both grew quiet as Jack continued rummaging through baskets that looked more like their wrappings. They didn’t seem to like clucking about this Ruben. Nif put a bit more energy into his healing, causing both the tension and the last of the sourness to dissipate. Taking a step back, he lowered his pads, flicking his fingers with his palms facing the soil to rid himself of any harmful energy. He’d bury them in mud later. He rose and moved to where both Jack and Red Fur could see him. “The sourness is gone. You should sleep and replenish.”
