#faja

The humans’ voices were low, loud, rumbles in as they boarded, speaking of things Feja didn’t know about and couldn’t share. But ae had to do aer job, which involved initiating a small group of new humans who would share the same sort of tasks as aer. Not that ae wanted to share tasks with beings who drank poison for fun and kept predators as pets, but aer job was aer job.

“Hello, welcome to the Yenna,” ae paused, allowing a few seconds for the translator to work. It was always so awkward to wait. And sometimes older translators wouldn’t pick up aer voice correctly at all. “My name is Feja, ae/aer, tuscia, and I will be orienting you to your roles and responsibilities. You should have already received a brief. If you have any questions about that, please let me know.”

One of the humans’ mouths let out a few rumbles, followed by Feja’s translator repeating their words to aer, “Are their Uni-10 translators provided? I missed some of what you said.” 

Feja smiled and the human’s eyebrows scrunched. From previous experience, ae knew that it was confused, probably not used to tuscia body language. Feja let out a small hiss, but replied, “We don’t provide translators, but if communication is an issue, I can transfer you to a different group.” 

A pause, a low rumble, and then, “I think that’d be best. Thanks for being flexible!” 

The other humans in Feja’s group had better translators, and ae was able to finish aer initiation protocol with few issues. Slightly exhausted, ae started to walk back to aer room. Why did ae ever sign up for this? Why didn’t ae apply to somewhere where beings could actually converse with aer without a translator? And why, oh why did ae have to work with so many deathworlders?

Turning into a narrow corridor, Feja saw a human, looking at a number on their watch, then the signs next to each door, apparently trying to find a match. Their long white hair was plaited and reached their waist, and they were wearing a blue tunic that contrasted with their tan skin. It was too narrow to slip past, so Feja clacked aer mouth—a sound that ae knew humans could hear—but the human didn’t turn. Instead, they tried to open another door that also didn’t open, evidently not theirs . Feja clacked louder, to no response. As the human tried the next door, ae got rudely close and clacked once more. The human jumped, then turned and waved. Lucky not angrily— humans could take Feja down in a second. They looked down to their watch and started typing something.

Hey! I’m Kell, they/them, human, and new on board the Yenna, but not a traveler. The text was transmitted directly to Feja’s watch, and ae was surprised to see it was in universal language, not a human one that would have needed further translation. I’ve been hired as a tech assistant, so I should get my own room, but my initiation guide didn’t tell me where it was, and I’m having trouble with these numbers. Does the ship use a different language?

Not an uncommon problem for those first on board. Why didn’t their initiator tell them that?

“Most written text on the signs is in the captain’s birth tongue,” Feja explained. Kell tapped their glasses and captions scrolled across their screen as they looked at aer. “It’s Suav, and probably not in your translator’s database. You can add it, or you could use Anglu, which is close enough that it picks up most things.”

Kell nodded and switched their watch to Anglu, then translated a plaque on the wall. Seeing the results, they hit their forehead with their fist, thumb out. Feja startled, neck ruff raised.

“Are you alright?” Ae asked, cocking aer head. Even with how durable humans were, most of them didn’t hit themselves. Faja’s words scrolled across Kell’s glasses, then they laughed. 

I’m fine. That was sign language; I was calling myself stupid because I’m about 100 doors and a floor away. They looked up and chuckled.

“Sign language? Like the Ruq’?”

Yeah, though the Ruq’ never evolved ears. Mine just don’t work, I’m what humans call Deaf. I grew up with signs.

“So you sign to your fellow humans?”

Ha! Kell raised a lip—a sign of a negative emotion, though Faja wasn’t sure which one. I wish. I’ve only met a few who know any, and then usually not the same one I use. I text to talk to most beings. That’s why I’m in tech and not navigation.

“But you use the Universal Interplanetary Language, not Human, and that’s quite a feat of learning. Surely you had a choice in your occupation, especially considering how you’re a human…” Feja shifted on aer feet. The human-other ratio on board Yenna was unusually high, but that was because they specialized in human transport. Humans easily got jobs as medics, security, or anything else, especially as almost every intergalaxy ship had at least one. But most beings didn’t want to so much as be near the same fleet with so many of such a volatile species. Humans were known for their adaptability, cunning, and ferocity after all. 

When you can’t communicate with most people, you learn to do what makes life easier, and for me that was making sure to limit translation times as much as possible. 

Feja winced at aer own thoughts of Kell’s possible violent nature. Ae looked down at aer messages, a wall of one-way texts, and winced again. Ae typed back, that’s my reason for learning UPL, too. Receiving the text, Kell’s eyes widened. 

You stopped speaking? My translator can write your words out for me.

Feja smiled. It didn’t seem fair. We can keep a record of what I say, too.

 Thanks. Kell blinked and shook their head. That’s not something I even thought of.

I know what it’s like when it’s more work to communicate. The humans tend to avoid me. Faja recalled the human who requested a new group earlier that day.

Me too. Kell had a look on their face that Feja felt often. 

I’ll walk you to your room. I can read Suav numbers, at least. What’s yours?

Kell brightened and checked their brief. It should be 470. 

Alright, that’d be down this hallway. It’s a relief, Faja thought, that they aren’t pushing me away.

A few steps later, Faja’s watch buzzed. Ae looked down.

Hey Faja, how many languages do you know? Kell looked at them and Faja stared. Human’s colors were usually so dull, but aer eyes were drawn to the vibrant green of Kell’s, a color rarely seen in space. Shaking aer head to focus, ae counted the languages ae knew.

Three fluently, five partially. They’re fun to learn, though it doesn’t mean much when no one on board can hear me.

Kell thought for a second, started typing, paused, then sent their message. They peered at aer from behind their hair.

Language isn’t always about hearing. Have you thought about learning sign language?

It was Faja’s turn to pause. Kell fidgeted with a button on their watch. This human was making an effort to bond… with aer. Even though ae was a different species, and even though ae couldn’t offer any career advancement or connections. Ae closed aer eyes and inhaled. Maybe, just maybe, ae would make their first friend on board. It really wasn’t a question, then, was it? This deathworlder wasn’t so bad.

ae typed aer reply: 

I’d love too.

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