Speaking Up

Posted on Wed Feb 1st, 2023 @ 10:32am by Lieutenant JG Calanthe 'Cal' Diaz

Mission: Sojurn
Location: Reception Area, planetside
Timeline: Half hour after "Meeting the Releaians"
1436 words - 2.9 OF Standard Post Measure

"Without intrusion, would you permit me to ask why you are standing out here alone?"

The voice, the first she had heard in well over ten minutes, roused Calanthe from her daydream. With the intricacies of first meetings taken care of, and the away team ensconced in a room that had very swiftly offered more variety in food than any of them had enjoyed since leaving Earth, there was an air of expectation that had eventually dragged out far longer than the brunette's nerves could handle. Anticipation was not a terrible sensation but after so long with very little to actually look forward to, waiting to be allocated rooms and access bracelets and bags full of collectible souvenirs had proven a genuine test of her patience. As cold as it was outside on the small landing, there was something grounding about...well, the ground. The smell of real weather. The wide open vastness of a sky overhead, so far up that the limits of the world were no long measured by whose shoulders you could sit on. It might have been bitter and windswept, and she was slowly freezing to the point of not being able to feel her toes, but it was still a hell of a welcome change.

The locals were...also intriguing.

She turned with a start to blink at the docile inquisitor whose footsteps she had utterly failed to notice. He was only a little taller than her, something that struck Calanthe instantly as being quite reassuring, and though his elongated blue eyes were just as liquidy as their welcoming party's had been, they reflected a benign kindness that somehow made the creature's overall appearance far less alien. His skin, because she believed it was a male if her interpretation of cultural attire was on the mark, despite having no point of reference yet for the gender norms associated with Releaian culture, was a lovely turquoise, which happened to be one of Calanthe's favourite colours. Her father had always said she'd grown up with the ocean in her veins.

"Uh, no, it's no intrusion. I was just..." Turning to the side just enough to point backwards, Cal blundered her way through an explanation. "...enjoying the view."

"Are you still intent on this pursuit or might we speak further?"

As far as being a Chief Communications Officer went, Calanthe would have been the first to admit that she had no idea how the current translation technology worked. As far as she could tell, there weren't any distinctively obvious devices worn by the locals, though it seemed unlikely that there was no physical technology sitting behind their apparent ability to communicate with anyone. Once she got five minutes alone with the Captain, or even Lexi for that matter, there would be copious theories to fling about but the young Lieutenant held out hope that their hosts might be open to sharing some sort of explanation, even if it came without a detailed walkthrough. Either way, she was aware that the responsibility for documenting this encounter from a linguistic aspect rested with her now. Language almost always intersected multiple cultural aspects so there were going to be a lot of interested parties when it came to anything she could figure out.

Drawing a deep breath in through her nose, she smiled brightly and dipped her head once. "Of course. We can speak," she added for clarity, aware that the response had been ambiguous.

For a moment, the gentle alien bowed his head forward, a thumb pressed sideways to his chin as he did so. As far as Calanthe could tell, it seemed to be an act of thanks, though it could just as easily have been a request for room service for all she knew. "I am Saloosh. I am a lexicographer by trade, though my current responsibilities extend to assisting our diplomatic processes with the accumulation of accurate linguistic data for our records." The large, soulful eyes stared a moment before adding further clarification. "I am a Keeper of Words, like yourself."

"Keeper of... Oh, a communications officer. At least, that's what we call my role." Which you are doing a bang-up job of messing up entirely at the moment, Diaz. Gathering her wits once more, Cal continued. "Lieutenant Calanthe Diaz. I am. That." Almost imperceptibly, she gritted her teeth. "My apologies, apparently I have chosen this exact minute to forget even my own language."

The observation seemed to amuse the Releaian, whose eyes bore evidence of gentle humour even if the rest of his features barely shifted. "Such is the nature of new experiences at times."

"Yes, well." Cal forced herself to stop hyper-analysing and worried, at least for the time being, about getting her own message across. "You can just call me Calanthe, or Cal if you prefer."

Saloosh stretched upwards, his neck elongated somewhat as if peering over a hidden obstacle. From the context, Calanthe took it to mean he was deciphering her offer.

"Your people reduce official designations to partial syllables?"

For some reason, it hadn't properly occurred to Calanthe that an amount of curiosity would go both ways. It made sense, of course, especially if Saloosh was as invested as he claimed in a similar direct study of language and its interpretation. It was just that, with all their technology and the clear advantages it afforded them, she wouldn't have been very surprised to discover he'd already downloaded an entire encyclopaedia of information and assimilated it entirely.

"Ah, yes. Sometimes. As a sign of familiarity usually, people will adopt variations on the formal name to convey a more casual relationship." Come on, you know this stuff, stop getting blind-sided by the fact he doesn't blink. "Though it is very culturally specific. Earth is quite varied in that regard."

"Varied?"

"A very long history of divergent languages and cultures. Physiologically, Earth natives are all human. There is a lot of diversity within that, however."

"A multi-lingual, culturally-concurrent homeostasis?" Judging by the tone, the alien had stumbled upon whatever his people's version of a candy store was. Despite her nervousness, Cal couldn't help but smile. "How very fascinating. And you are Keeper of all this?"

Suddenly, very aware of a shift in dynamics, Calanthe could have sworn the alien had shrunk considerably in size. Still hasn't blinked though. It had never been her experience, the linguist realised, to have someone stare at her as if she'd suddenly sprouted several tails. She wasn't entirely sure she enjoyed the scrutiny.

"Some of it," she corrected. "It's definitely still a work in progress. And," she added, "there's also the need to factor in additional influences." After a pause, Cal clarified, "Our ship represents the explorative endeavours of a number of different species. Not everyone on board is human. It would likely take me more than a single lifetime to absorb everything."

The Releaian was nodding, an action that seemed to involve a thrust back and forth from his shoulders rather than any movement of his neck. "I quite understand, it is a significant endeavour. Still, to undertake such a challenge is commendable. Would you be open, whilst you are here, to sharing with me even a fraction of your knowledge?" The request seemed almost timid. "Our technology is highly proficient in determining the inherent patterns and systemic syntax of formally precise lexicons but it is rare, at least in my experience, that it is all that useful in unlocking the subtle context that provides the colour palate. Colloquialisms, spontaneous adaptation, creative interpretation. All the shades and undertones that allow us to shape words into masterpieces. Language is alive, our technology does little to reflect that."

For a moment, Cal was stunned by the nuances of passion the Releaian exuded during his short explanation. It was almost intangible, an intricate dance between word choice and placement of body that reminded the human of the gentle ebb and flow of a summer's tide. Even the cadence with which he spoke, the intonation, the rise and fall of pitch and volume, resembled the climb and crest of an ocean wave. She smiled faintly to herself, as taken by his mannerisms as he seemed to be with a planet 150 years away from where they stood. Slowly, gently, she nodded her head.

"I would love to exchange stories with you."

The spread of his smile brought sunlight to his eyes mere seconds before, finally, they closed. The honour of trust. "Then we shall talk, Cal of Many Words. We shall talk."

 

Comments (1)