K. D. Wentworth - Embians

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K.D. WENTWORTH

THE EMBIANS

AFTER SETTING THE AUDIO recorder for the night, Shayna wraps her fingers through

the wires of the treetop blind and stares into the heavy darkness, straining to

catch the next mating display the instant it flares. Just beyond the ragged edge

of the rain forest, the unseen ocean hisses against the shore and salt hangs in

the sultry air. Somewhere out in the sweltering sea of black, a small animal

squalls and dies in the jaws of some nameless predator.

Flash of electric-green with orange diagonals. Melds into the yellow of fresh

lemons. Softens...fades....

Darkness.

Cerulean blue. Swirls of carmine that suffuse with purple, brightening as though

they will explode.

Darkness...darkness.

Shayna sighs. "They're so incredibly complex, so varied. If I could just sort

the nuances into a key, I know I could make my thesis work."

Her expedition partner, Mae, dutifully records the mating displays on the

night-cam in every wave-length from ultra-violet to infra-red for later

analysis. She is eight years older than Shayna, working on her doctoral

dissertation, rather than a mere master's thesis. Her movements are careful and

methodical, everything always labeled, thought out, planned. Shayna understands

herself to be more intuitive, knowing when an answer is ready, it will surface

from the depths of her mind like an offering. Until then, she must wait, absorb

data, allow her subconscious to analyze and correlate.

Mae shifts on the camp stool, so close in the narrow blind, Shayna can feel the

heat of her skin, while out in the hot, tangled night of a world that has never

known a moon, or tide, or the chill embrace of snow, the serpentlike embians

slip through soft-fleshed trees and serenade each other with light. In the

daylight, they appear vaguely humanoid, with similar number and placement of

limbs, but their flesh is so dense, their bones are only cartilage, and they are

as sinuous as eels. Their skin is a mottled gray-green and they rarely attain

five feet in height. They produce no intelligible sounds.

"You might as well pick a different thesis and be done with it. Those displays

are no more a language than wolves back on Earth howling at the moon. They're

just mating lures." Mae jerks. "Over there!"

Acid-red. Sharpens to actinic violet that hurts the eyes. Flash...flash. White

afterimage.

Darkness.

Shayna lifts sweat-soaked hair off her neck, impatient for the next display. "I

think they're arguing. He's ready for her, has been for hours, but she's playing

coy."

"How do you know it's mixed pair?" Mae asks, calmly sensible as always. "Other

teams have documented male to male pairings, as well as female to female." From

the first moment they met at the university funding this study, Mae reminded

Shayna of a redwood that has stood for a thousand years and is no longer capable

of surprise or wonder. "They're acting on instinct," Mae says. "When the time is

right, they'll come together."

Come together. Such a pale expression for the incandescent union of embian or

human. Shayna's fingers tighten until the blind's wires cut into her skin.

Impossible blue-black hovering on the edge of ultra-violet. Shot through with

sparkles of green. Expands...expands. Flash of red.

Darkness...darkness...darkness.

Shayna's pulse leaps, settles into the alien rhythm of the lights. She turns to

Mae. "He's dying for her, and she's laughing, climbing just out of reach."

"Quit projecting." Mae's voice is curt, impatient. She leans away from the damp,

sweaty touch of Shayna's thigh.

Muted green. Swirls of magenta.

Pale rose. Pool of lavender.

Darkness.

Compromise, thought Shayna. One relents, so the other bides his time. In the

end, they will find a way to understand each other.

Olive.

Lime.

Darkness.

Red, Shayna thinks, fountains of orange-gold. White so hot it would burn you to

ashes.

Glimmering pure green.

Darkness... darkness...darkness.

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