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“I’m curious about music of other cultures. I’m a performer with the Earther opera company in residence here on the station.”
Rusp and Raspy avidly nodded in understanding. When Gentle spoke questioningly in his alien language, Raspy answered. Gentle beamed at Irene when he grasped the situation.
“You sing? Or play?”
“I sing with the company. I play piano and a little guitar for my personal enjoyment,” she said.
“I like other music too. I want to hear Earther music. We come to show?” Raspy said.
“You should. It isn’t similar to what you play, though.”
“You don’t like lemanthev?” Rusp’s enthusiasm dropped a notch.
“I did. I know nothing of your music, but the energy was amazing. And you all obviously have an excellent grasp of theory, especially if you write your own stuff.”
“Sherv writes songs.” Rusp nodded to Raspy. “Make us famous someday. Has not same voice from most who howl.”
“You’re a talented songwriter,” Irene told the man modestly ducking his head. Howling was an apt description for his performance, but he wouldn’t have any voice left in five years at the rate he was going. He’d be lucky to speak above a whisper. “And yes…your voice is different.”
She tried to keep her tone even, but Sherv offered a half-smile to tell her he knew what she meant bydifferent. “Accident when child. Hurt throat.” He mimed being choked and uttered gagging noises to illustrate. “Okay for howling, if careful.”
“How awful. Corrective surgery couldn’t be performed?”
“Doctors said when I was child to wait for older, finish develop. Then parents mad for me play lemanthev. I not work job they approve of. No pay doctor fix if I howl.”
“It’s up to you to have and pay for surgery now that you’re an adult and responsible for yourself, but your parents would have paid if you weren’t howling.” Irene wanted to be sure she understood.
Sherv shrugged. “I play music. No else. Audience like voice this way for lemanthev. I stay same.”
“Well, I’m glad it worked out.” Irene felt bad for him. He had talent and apparent musical knowledge to go along with his good looks. What a shame his parents didn’t support his career choice. “How is it you speak my language so well?”
“Lank-wage? You mean speech?” Sherv struggled to pronouncelanguage. At Irene’s nod, he answered, “Want big audience. All species. I learn seven main Global Council lank-wage. English, most common Earther, be…” he counted on his fingers, whispering the numbers “…eight.”
English wasn’t the most common speech of Irene’s people, but it was the official Earth government and Church language; the tongue of the race that had conquered the others in the distant past. She didn’t correct Sherv. It would have been too difficult to explain.
She was impressed by his speaking eight languages and told him so.
“English is hard speech,” Rusp said. “Sherv make us learn.”
“To help me practice.” Sherv smirked at Gentle. “You glad now you learn, Jemi? To talk to her?”
The third member of their group rolled his eyes but smiled. He had the best smile of the trio, and a thrill ran through Irene. “You right. You win.”
A noise behind them prompted Irene to yank the headgear over her face. She turned to spy a pair of silver-skinned Beonids walk out a door and go into another, their backs to her and the Kalquorians.
She’d gotten involved in the conversation, in her fascination for the gorgeous aliens, and she abruptly realized how late it was. She should have been in her quarters long ago. “I have to leave, in case someone checks on me. Oh, my name is Irene. It was great to have met you and heard your music.”
“Dramok Sherv.” He flushed, apparently embarrassed to realize they’d been chatting without proper introductions. He dipped a bow. “My clanmates, Nobek Rusp and Imdiko Jemi.”
His companions bowed too, and Irene was impressed by the courtly manners. She stifled an urge to curtsy. “I wish you the success you hope for. Thanks for trying to rescue me. I’m sure if I were one of your women, I’d have appreciated it better.” She grinned at Rusp, forgetting he couldn’t see her behind the mask.
He laughed anyway. “No, Kalquorian Matara be mad too if she wear Odeerginesudis. Our women not get alone much. Must want to sneak like you.”
Apparently, Irene and Kalquorian women had something in common, though for undoubtedly distinct reasons. Rusp had been eager to protect. Earth would have been determined to punish Irene if she’d been caught.
She had to go. She gave the trio a little wave and hurried toward her temporary home.
“We come watch you sing,” Sherv called after her.
