Zh’rekk
© 2021 by Walter Reimer


Thumbnail art by  TheTiedTigress


Zh’rekk is one of the major staple grains of the Kashlani. The seeds of the meter-tall shrub are the basis for foodstuffs such as rupma’ and henal, and its leaves and roots are also edible. The g’Raf family farm supported huge fields of zh’rekk and several orchards of gchert, all tended by small drones connected to a computer in the farmhouse’s office.

Varan had always liked the feel of walking between the rows of plants, breathing in the fragrance of the flowers and passing her hands over the leaves. It gave her a feeling of connection to her home, and the memory of it had gone with her when she went into space.

The smell of the grain also reminded her, slightly, of Meredith’s scent.

“I thought I’d find you out here,” and Varan turned as her brother Kunan came walking up to her, his sandal-clad feet kicking up small clods of the clayey soil. The vir paused between the rows of zh’rekk as he caught up with her and the siblings embraced. “Greetings, Varan.”

“Greetings, Kunan,” Varan said after they had embraced. “Yes,” and she looked around at the fields, “I’ve wanted to be here; back home, with growing things around me. I’ve missed it.”

“Aka, you’re here now,” he said. “Lastmeal’s in a cycle.” He was dressed for the climate in a kilt and vest. Varan was dressed similarly, but barefoot.

She had one hand resting on one of the shrubs, running the pads of her fingers along the glossy leaves, and when she realized that Kunan was watching her she gave a soft laugh. “I’m all right, little brother.”

“I know,” the younger kam said, “but there are shlani who worry about you.”

“And I’m always grateful for it,” and she turned and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly and stepping back before her brother could slip his hands under her kilt. “There’s time for that later,” she laughed.

“Good,” he said with a broad smile. “Race you back to the house?”

“Yes,” and the pair started running.


***


Dinner consisted of thin filets of gves, the meat rubbed with spices and herbs and then seared before being cut into bite-sized pieces; a salad and slices of bread were served alongside the main dish. The conversation drifted among a variety of topics, from the business aspects of the farm to the couple that Kunan was currently in a relationship with. He admitted that he and the other two kami were quite happy, and smiled as his sisters teased him.

Varan was still chuckling as she picked up a piece of meat with her tongs and Kunan asked, “Are you going to marry that Terran?”

Her tail clipped him behind one ear. “You’re studying xenobiology, and you ask that question? Don’t be a dhot, Kunan,” she said as her tail fended off his attempt to retaliate. She gestured at the food on the table with the utensil. “Everything here is poisonous to her. Besides,” she said as she went back to her meal, “She was the first to raise the topic, in a circuitous way, but I stopped her.”

Her brother clucked his tongue. “A ‘circuitous’ way?”

“She asked me about our old religious customs.”

Dorval, her brother-in-law, lowered his glass of henal and said, “She sounds very interesting, this Terran of yours.”

Varan smiled and ate for a moment, and complimented her mother on the meal before replying, “Yes, she is. I found that she was willing to trust me, and be a friend. Her family also.”

“Her family?” Vorun asked.

Her younger daughter paused and set her tongs down. “I have visited them a few times, and the last time Meredidh’s mother made she’ehkīj for me.” Her mother blinked, and the others at the table also looked surprised.

“Was it any good?”

“It was a very good first attempt,” Varan replied, “but, naturally, it can’t compare to how you make it, Mother.” The others laughed at that, until Verit’s younger son dropped his tongs and his father got out of his chair to retrieve them. “Meredidh’s father also told me that if I ever needed to come and talk, they would welcome me into their home.”

“That shows a great deal of trust,” Dorval remarked as he sat back down.

“Yes, it does,” Varan said. She picked up her tongs again and studied them as she said, “They’re a very strange collection of beings. There are so many varieties of Terran, and their history is enough to make your fur fall out at times. Aka, I consider myself fortunate.”

“This is good,” Vorun said. “Varan i'?”

“Vath i'?”

“Malō ne’ dīrmīretin kersh dere’.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Dessert was a pastry confection filled with fruit and served with a sweet sauce that offset the slight bitterness of the filling, and Verit and Dorval had their hands full trying to keep their sons from painting themselves liberally with the sauce. Varan and Kunan refused to help, content to laugh at their older sister and her mate until their mother ordered them to clear the table.

The local sun set just before the sixteenth cycle, and the horolog in the main room offered a musical tone as it reached the seventeenth and Varan prepared to speak with her family. She shed her clothes and entered a small room set at the end of the house’s main hallway, with the rest of them following her.

Every Kashlanin home has, at the very least, a corner or alcove set aside for a singular purpose. Having eidetic memories, shlani could be overcome by grief at deaths among their family and friends, and the room or similar space is used for the mourner to speak freely about their memories and feelings. The point of this is to create associations that would trigger pleasant thoughts and emotions about the departed. The bad memories would still be there, but would be filtered and blunted through the good ones. Other traumatic events would be treated similarly.

Since the Kashlani are a spacefaring race, populating a large number of planets, this process could also be done by communications link. Varan had taken part in the mourning for her father while still aboard the Kith.

The family sat on the thickly-carpeted floor along the walls as Varan sat in the center of the room. The floor was comfortable enough to sleep on, if necessary. “I have seen many deaths,” the vir said. “Fellow crewmembers, friends; I shall recall them.”

Then she spoke, and the tears came, as her family watched and listened.

When there were no more tears, and Varan had unburdened herself, one by one her family took up her memories and discussed them with her. It was a time-consuming process, and it went on until the middle of the night.

Both of Verit and Dorval’s sons were asleep by the time it was over, and their parents took them to bed. Vorun and Kunan helped Varan to her room, and mother and brother got into bed with her, cuddling up on either side of her to make sure that, even in sleep, Varan would know that she was with her family.

And was loved.