Chapter 4: Homeward Bound

< Michael, I have an obligation to return to Tuull to report to the Planetary Council, > T’Kleesual - Jubal - announced one morning while Michael and his ladies were breakfasting. <The colony is founded and the experiment started. And they need to know. It is my job.>

<Of course, > Michael responded. <Is there a reason we are discussing this privately? You’ve trusted my family before.>

<It is sensitive, and I anticipate tasking T’Krandit and Helva for transportation, > Jubal explained, <and that involves her ‘brawn’ and perhaps more humans. I want your thoughts before I raise expectations.>

<I see, > mused Michael. <The Tuull have never directly seen or experienced humans. Am I correct?>

<Assuredly, friend Michael.> replied the AI <You are correct. I like the word ‘serendipity.’ Serendipity has occurred, and I wish to make the most of it.>

Jubal explained, <First, we have a young AI that has never experienced the Tuull or the Tuull home world. Second, that young AI has bonded with a human in an unanticipated way - one paralleling that of friends T’Kleeoran and T’Kuudshpp but so much younger in her awareness. Even T’Krandit taking the gender designation will be strange to my masters. T’Krandit needs direct exposure to living Tuull and Tuull culture.>

Continuing, Jubal expounded, <You are aware that the Tuull are a race of poets and artists, but perhaps we’ve never told you that, in all our history, we have never created music. Rhythm yes, tonal variations no. That is why it is so amazing that both Lolli and Helva make tonal music. I believe that your colony can achieve much status and acceptance if Helva’s brawn and her touring company visit Tuullat and perform a series of live concerts.>

To describe Michael as ‘floored’ could never do it justice. He responded, <But humans have never been allowed to know the location of any member races’ planets - or even their spheres of influence. How is that going to work?>

<Carefully, > quipped Jubal, who had acquired some human speech idiosyncrasies. <Trust will be required in both directions. Helva will navigate without any human aboard capable of using astrogation to ascertain where they are or where they have been. No pilots! The possible exception is Inkie, who is well along, but I’m willing to take the risk. As T’Krandit’s brawn, the bonding and trust is very strong. On the other hand, my masters might not view that risk in the same way. There is a slight, but real, risk that they would not let her leave Tuullat.>

A select group of musicians was aboard Helva when she departed the Rukbat System for Tuullat. There were no Marines; no politicians; no scientists; and no engineers, for this was strictly a cultural exchange. On the other hand, Inkie was becoming quite the polymath, and politics was one on her developing talents.

The plan was to offer a series of live concerts, each featuring a sample of musical types and genres. The selected musicians could perform in more than one style, and a given performance might use artists from different groups. Inkie would perform in each concert, even if she were not featured. The final concert would feature Inkie playing acoustic guitar, singing her own compositions. The marathon of concerts would only be possible because of the stamina of the nanite-enhanced bodies of the performers.

Considerable time and effort were spent selecting the several programs, rehearsing, and ensuring that both Jubal and Helva were fully aware of the meanings of the lyrics and all the allusions and references therein. Throughout the concerts, members of the audience would be able to link with one or both for clarification.

Politicians around the universe share many common traits. Among them is the avoidance of commitment until obtaining significant assurance of not looking ignorant. In other words, the thirteen members of the Tuull Planetary Council avoided meeting the humans until they could determine which way the wind was going to blow.

The Council let it be known to all Tuull that artists of the recently discovered species would be displaying their art to be judged. For the Tuull, judgment could only be accomplished through live performances, so a number of concerts were scheduled. Interest was exceptionally high, and the right to attend was determined by a planet-wide lottery. Those not in attendance would be ‘forced’ to ‘suffer’ the indignity of attending electronically.

Nothing could have prepared the humans for the impact of first appearing on stage before thousands of human-sized raccoons! Right down to the dark band across the eyes and a ringed tail, the Tuull resembled raccoons. It was a damned good thing Davy Crockett coonskin hats were not in style.

The first concert, on the advice of Helva, consisted of a variety of rhythm-based music - from Maurice Ravel’s Bolero to selections of rap, hip hop, and Lindsey Sterling-styled performance violin. At the end, the silence was deafening!

Tuull audiences showed their appreciation with absolute silence, signaling their receptivity to yet another piece from the performer.

Concert followed concert, music genre changing to another. All met with prolonged silence. Thousands of raccoons staring - and not a peep, clap, or even a poot.

The next-to-last concert, performed by the entire musical cadre, consisted entirely of songs considered humorous by sections of humanity. There was a wide variety of types - from nonsense songs (Mairzy Doats), to suggestive (My Ding-A-Ling), to bawdy (My Grandfather’s Cock). Sections of the audience were, as usual, still and silent. Others, though silent, shivered - some with tears running. The Tuull liked funny, punny, and bawdy, and those who had learned English could scarcely contain themselves.

And then came the final concert. Inkie entered the stage with Armand and Dinky and introduced them to the audience as her adopted family. They sat on the stage and sang several children’s songs, with Inkie explaining that the music both taught and entertained younglings.

After the children skipped off stage, Inkie introduced T’Krandit. Though the audience already knew, she explained that Helva was a youngling, her friend, and was considered to be a member of her family. Then they sang together one of Inkie’s compositions written especially for their duet.

Finally, Inkie was alone on stage with her guitar. For nearly two hours, she sang her own compositions exclusively, pausing to sip from a water bottle or to briefly explain something about a song.

When Inkie’s solo performance was done, including her planned encores, the prolonged and complete silence was the equivalent of an American standing, foot-stomping, ovation punctuated by blasts from an air horn. That she had both composed and performed an entire program of such quality merited their highest acclaim. No individual stirred to leave.