Tales of the Wide Spaces/002

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David Holderness looked across his desk to the group of applicants that had just been ushered into his prefabricated office, and smiled; he almost showed his teeth, before, clamping down on long-held habit, he managed to keep his lips together. His briefing had been clear on that point. Some Çerid know what it means, if they've interacted enough with humans, he'd been told, but it's best not to rely on that. Among themselves, baring teeth is a sign of aggression.

Before him, a cluster of scaly, winged creatures with antenna-like structures sprouting from their heads regarded him with what could have been respectful patience, or, there again, could just as easily have been boredom or disdain.

The briefing had indeed been brief - it had, for instance, delivered only the most basic information about how to interpret their facial expressions. But from the sound of it, it had been unavoidable. For years, the pool of talent in Nouvelle Alexandrie for knowledgeable dealings with the desert creatures had been small, but also in very low demand. The wave of Çer refugees entering southern Alduria had rather abruptly changed the equation, and while more detailed information on the newcomers had been slowly disseminating, people familiar with it were in extremely short supply.

Trusting that this group had been sent to him because they didn't need an interpreter, Holderness began, "So! Welcome to Nouvelle Alexandrie. I see you've been through the checkpoint-"

"I be Enaçtli, daughter of Tuduri, mighty and wise. I speak."

"...ah," Holderness replied. He took note of the speaker's larger size, bulky build, and facial markings, all apparently female traits. The briefing had warned about upsetting the ones whose markings, like Enaçtli's, were quite dark; it was evidently a sign of status and required tact to avoid giving offense. "Yes, well. I greet you, daughter of Tuduri. I'm David Holderness." He hoped that the form of the answer satisfied her. "You have the papers they gave you?"

Enaçtli's nostrils flared. She produced a wad of paper and set it on the desk with a meaty paw and claw-tipped fingers; most of the responses on the forms were typed, a fair indication that, as with most applications, someone had filled it out on their behalf, most Çerid having no experience with writing. Enaçtli watched the papers carefully as Holderness glanced at them, as if expecting them to go for the man's throat.

"The ovaresh ask many silly questions," she volunteered.

Holderness had learned enough by now to know that ovaresh was a word for human. "Well, the Federation is happy to accept refugees from the Antakian expansion, of course," he replied, trying to sound as mild about it as possible, "but we do want to know about who we accept."

Enaçtli snorted. "Why? ...Numbers, yes. I understand this. But why names? Why ages? Why papers?" she added, gesturing at the forms.

Perhaps unconsciously, the Çer had leaned forward over the desk while asking the question; just as unconsciously, Holderness leaned away uneasily. "Well... it does help with planning, how and where to direct resources, that sort of thing," he managed.

"We come in estate," Enaçtli persisted. "We cross boundary. Is all! We be push out of us wilds, we go into you wilds. No 'resources', no 'direct', no 'plan'. We take care to eat and drink what land can give. Easy, yes? Save papers, yes?"