They settled in so quickly because they were mentally prepared, ready to meet other travellers. Any species might have had to resort to generation ships, after all, if their planet became inhospitable. It is startling, unsettling, but also reassuring. The moment I am alone, I send this new knowledge home. They were not frightened because they knew. They knew there were other worlds, other races. No wonder they adapted so readily, were so eager to forge out from their world. It still sits where it landed, though it is derelict now.” Then she cocks her head. “Oh, did you mean leaving the old world? No, there were many, we think. It is the last, desperate resort of the residents of a world in dire trouble, a flinging into the void of a last, desperate hope. “Was there only one ship?” I know what she means, though few races have ever used generation ships. It was a….” She frowned. “I don’t know the word in Universal. She looks surprised, if I read her expression right. “Oh, no. My fur lifts, standing on end with my alarm. “Your species did not originate on that planet?” We think it had some kind of sacred meaning to them.” The old people, from before, loved turquoise. Then she continues. “But we brought some with us, too, when we went to it. The universal tongue is not her first language, nor mine. “Yes,” she says, and I relax, ready to put it down to a misunderstanding. Do you mean turquoise you have bought offworld, since you joined the spaceways?” It is only later, during the feasting, that I turn to her again. “You said your homeworld doesn’t have turquoise. It takes me a little while to understand what she said. Only a few pieces we brought with us when we came.” Our homeworld doesn’t have any turquoise, you know. Mira was watching the dancing, her mouth widened in a ‘smile’. “It’s so pretty,” she said, her hairless face sheened with sweat under the hot sun. “I love the turquoise jewellery.” She pointed to the bright blue stones that bedecked the dancers. “I should buy some. When Mira struck the first blow against what I thought I knew of the universe, against illusions soon to shatter that I had thought were truth, we were attending the coronation of a lesser Netar of the Kktil, recording the customs and ceremonies and unofficially enjoying the colourful celebrations. She is a good companion, who sings sweetly and laughs often. My human companion is named Mira, a young female. They like the work - they are a curious species, delighting in new knowledge, and they make able assistants. Some of us, the Izaslanik of the Bybleotekar, the gatherers of information for the record keepers, began encouraging humans to join us, that we might study them more closely. But the humans are so adaptable, so ready for it all, they might be remembering something they’ve forgotten, not learning something new. They understand so readily, accept so quickly - most new species have trouble adjusting to dealing with aliens, to the realities of space travel, to the sheer bigness of the universe. Our merry companions are… not different, but too much the same. But we are the Bybleotekar, the recorders of the spaceways, and we have begun to wonder. They were clever and agile, hot-tempered and humorous, fierce and yet friendly, a young species with much to offer us. We were delighted when the people calling themselves ‘humans’ joined the spacefaring races.
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