They passed several humans, who looked away uncomfortably. Something about them embarrassed the humans. Yet only a few of the humans on Tiangi had responded like that. What were they doing wrong?

At last they reached their cabin. The door slid open with a sound like the hiss of an angry ganuna. Still, Moki felt profoundly relieved when the door hissed shut behind them. This cold, dry, alien room was the only spot on the ship where they could truly be themselves. The two of them sat on one of the strange, flat beds provided by the humans. Moki stretched out his arms, spurs upward. Uka-tonen grasped Moki’s forearms. Their spurs pierced each other’s skin and they plunged into the inner metabolic world of tastes, smells, and emotions that was allu-a.

As always, Moki marveled at the power of Ukatonen’s presence. Linking with Ukatonen was like being swept along by a rain-swollen river. Despite his power, Ukatonen controlled the link with the delicate precision of a mi-tamit building her mating web. Moki drifted, letting the comfort of the enkar’s presence carry him along. Ukatonen’s presence enfolded Moki, and Moki let his sour loneliness and bitter frustration wash into the link, where the power of the enkar’s presence swept it away.

Moki reached out to Ukatonen, trying to release the fear and loneliness that the enkar kept hidden. Ukatonen pushed him away. Moki relaxed immediately, emitting shame and embarrassment at his presumption. The swiftness and contrition of Moki’s apology amused Ukatonen. Even if he hadn’t gotten Ukatonen to relax his rigid emotional control, Moki had at least alleviated the enkar’s dark and lonely mood.