Episode 6
Travelling Light E006S01 Transcript
[Title music: rhythmic electronic folk.]
H.R. Owen
Travelling Light: Episode Six.
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The Traveller
Entry 850SH19-6. An encounter with a young Saqiuq person with attached image of an object of great importance.
Key words: Adern; children and infants; Efferin; material culture; Saqiuq; toys and games.
Notes:
My companion and I were walking through the market at Efferin when a sudden sound cut through the background bustle like a hot knife. We looked around for its source, and saw a small Saqiuq person, standing quite alone and off to the side, away from the crowds.
I have never made a personal acquaintance with any Saqiuq, but I have seen individuals on the media and once or twice on public transport. I remember them as rather larger than the average human, easily surpassing six foot in height and their wide, round carapace giving them almost as great a circumference.
This person was less than half my size, and they were less colourful than I might have expected. Most of the Saqiuq I have seen were brightly coloured, teal or yellow or red, with white markings on their chitin. This person was a plain, dull, muddy brown.
I realised they must be a juvenile – a child, not yet grown into their full height or their adult markings. I could see no adult Saqiuq whom this young person might belong to, and so we made our way directly over to the little one. I knelt down to speak to them.
“Hello there,” I said. “I'm here to help. You look very upset. Have you lost your adult?”
The noise – the crying – slowed and shuddered to a stop. They looked up at me, their several eyes blinking in wet asynchronicity. At first, I was not sure if they had understood. I saw no interfaces for a translator about their person. But then, I do not know Saqiuq biology, and could not guess what form such an interface might take.
But my meaning, it seemed, had been clear enough. The child reached out to me with the legs they were not using to stand, and clutched me close, the segments of their hard, little, chitinous limbs pressing into the softness of my torso.
“Oh, my love,” I said, wrapping my arms around them as best I could, patting their carapace. “It's alright. We'll see you safe, don't you worry.”
My companion, being taller than I and better able to see over the crowd, looked around for someone who might be able to help – an event organiser or a security person. But before we could act, there came a shout from nearby.
Pushing through the throngs came an adult Saqiuq, their exoskeleton bright orange and flecked with white spots. As soon as they were within sight, the child gave out a cry of their own, high and piercing as before.
The adult scooped the child into their upper arms, pressing their faces together while both tapped and clinked their other limbs against one another's bodies with obvious and frantic joy.
The adult pressed something into the child's grasp that I could not see. Whatever it was, the child was delighted, squealing again and knocking their little head against the object with happy clunks.
The adult began to give us their heartfelt thanks – though we had done very little, really. They explained that they had become separated in the crowds and that, because of the child's dull, juvenile colouring, they had struggled to spot them again.
Then the little one wriggled round in the adult's hold to face me. They held out the object, shaking it forcefully. Well, I may not know Saqiuq but I know babies.
“Is that yours?” I said. “It's very pretty. Is it your toy?”
The child squealed, bonking the thing against their head once more. The limbs that held it were in constant motion, tapping against it as their other limbs tapped against their adult. The adult reciprocated – clearly a gesture of affection, reassurance, or love. Something of that nature.
It was a charming object, clearly analogous to human children's dolls, and yet so different. It was hard and shiny, as well it might be, being a toy for a hard and shiny species. And it was covered in dents and scratches – marks of robust and vigorous love.
We were about to leave when the child reached out to me, flicking the end segments of their limbs to get my attention. I came close, expecting perhaps a hug. Instead, they leaned back and bonked their head against mine, squealing with delight. Clearly, I had made a friend.
We said our goodbyes at last, and I left feeling very fond towards the little creature. And a good thing I do feel fond towards them, for I shall have a reminder of them looking back at me in the mirror for however long it takes for the bruising to fade.
[The sound of the data stick whirring fades back in, cutting out when the data stick is removed with a click.]
The Traveller
19th Shadoch, 850, continued.
I had intended to ask Óli up to the common room once we returned to the ship, to share a pot of tea and perhaps a game of some sort. There is a gwychyl board up there and as Marron knows rightly, I am rather a dab hand. [laughs]
But as soon as it became clear the others had also returned, Óli thanked me politely for a pleasant day and was down the corridor to their cabin so fast I might reasonably have taken some offence.
I was left standing there beside the ship's hatch, like a piece of forgotten luggage. But before I could feel too sorry for myself, I heard someone call my name. It was Wolph, the ship's engineer, bouncing down the corridor towards me.
This was not any sign of any particular affection on his part. He is a very bouncy individual, prone to throwing himself about the place with a kind of artless delight that it is very difficult not be fond of – though I confess the habit was rather alarming at first. He is a very big person and can move at considerable speed.
He bounded up to me and stopped, rocking on his heels with his thumbs in the straps of his tool harness. “Aman says you know electrics?”
“Uh, yes?” I said. “A-a little? Is something the matter?”
Wolph was already off again, talking over his shoulder and clearly expecting me to follow. Which, in fairness to him, I did.
“Tsabec's got some machine in their lab needs looked at. Thought, well, two heads better than one. Repair droid's got no programming for it – might just bust it up more. Remembered Aman saying about your electrics and thought… so!”
I was going to protest that I was hardly experienced enough to repair a complicated piece of lab equipment, but by the time I'd caught my breath to say it – Wolph really does move apace – we had already arrived at Tsabec's work room.
The machine turned out to be a sort of imaging sensor, presumably for use in the field when Tsabec conducts their archaeological research. Once we worked out how to get the thing open, it looked enough like similar devices I have seen before that I was able to start work hunting down the nature of the fault.
Tsabec did not help my concentration. They hovered around making concerned noises every time we touched something.
“How was the trade market?” I asked them, hoping to distract them a little.
“I didn't go to the trade market,” said Tsabec, up on tip-toes to try and see over Wolph's shoulder. “I had business at the provincial museum.”
“Oh, of course. I forgot. Was there anything in particular you were going for?”
Tsabec shot me an irritated look. “Business. I say, is that smoke?!”
“Nothing to worry!” said Wolph, cheerful as ever.
“Óli and I went out to a market ourselves,” I said to Tsabec, hastily passing Wolph a cannister of cryo spray. “Lovely little place, had stalls selling-”
But Tsabec interrupted me. “Who's Óli?”
“The other passenger?” I said. “The other person aboard who isn't a scholar or a crew member.”
“Tall,” offered Wolph. “Dangly bits.”
“...dangly bits?” said Tsabec.
“I-I think he means earrings.”
Tsabec grunted. “Oh.” Then, “Oh! In the robes! I forgot they were even aboard. It's not right, you know, spending all your time cooped up in your cabin like that.”
“Bad for you,” agreed Wolph. “Gotta talk to someone. Go loopy else.”
I was about to say something – thought I do not know what – in Óli's defence, when Tsabec changed the subject.
“I say! Whatever happened to your forehead?”
When the repair was finished, I came to my cabin and began penning this missive. It is a pleasant room, but a little impersonal. I miss my own bed linens. My decorations. My books! I have only the few Marron and Gelth would agree to help me carry and it is really not so many now that they are all unpacked.
There is, however, a shelf above the desk which has a metal band running about its edge. The metal, it transpires, is magnetic, and I have attached to it my souvenir from Efferin. From… Óli. I must say, it does cheer the place up.
I am resolved to discover the reason for their reticence to spend time with the others. Perhaps it is as simple as Óli not believing their own company to be worthwhile.
But I cannot believe it. There must be someone else aboard with whom Óli might feel at ease. I cannot imagine anyone feeling self-conscious in Wolph's company, and Annaliese has been entirely charming.
Or perhaps it is the other way round. perhaps there is someone aboard with whom they have a-a particular animosity? But again, it is difficult to imagine.
And before any of you, my dear friends, dismiss this and say, [mockingly] "Oh yes, well, you would say that, you like everyone!" [ordinary voice] For I can hear you saying it, clear as if you were in the room with me. I do not mean that.
I mean simply that I cannot see when Óli would have had chance to develop an antipathy for anyone else aboard. Tsabec is right, they have hardly left their cabin since we left Port Taroth.
But perhaps it is none of my business. Perhaps I should just leave well enough alone. I wish… [sighs] I wish I had someone I knew to talk this over with.
Well. Send my love to everyone. I shall write again soon.
[Title music: rhythmic instrumental folk. It plays throughout the closing credits.]
H.R. Owen
Travelling Light was created by H.R. Owen and Matt McDyre, and is a Monstrous Productions podcast. This episode was written and performed by H.R. Owen.
This week’s entry to the archives was based on an idea by Moony and Ellie, with accompanying art available on our social media accounts.
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