Azu-nah a la carte

Thanda-tu, I learned, means “teacher.” Or, really it’s more like “one who teaches. The thanda bit is their word for teach, and the “tu” changes it to a noun. This type of grammar is going to take a lot of getting used to.

Kohric is a really good teacher. I’ve said it before, but he really is good. He’s very patient and deliberate. He’s absorbed a surprising amount of English vocabulary, which is making things a hell of a lot easier. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

After my altercation with my inquisitive houseguests, Kohric lead me off to a quiet, sandy spot with a few big, rounded boulders strewn about. Kohric had brought the little red language tutor the First Contact crew had left with D’Keda. Between that, my computer pad, and simple sand drawings, we actually had a decent arsenal of tools.

We spent most of the day there. My head hurts from all the intensive cramming, but I think it’s worth it. We started off with general vocabulary. A LOT of vocabulary. I can’t remember every word we went over today perfectly. I’m no Rain Man. But I’m getting better. I know with practice I’ll have a halfway decent word bank.

Kohric insisted I teach him the English version of every Azu-nah word he went over. I don’t know whether he wants to learn it to make teaching me easier, to give the Azu-nah more equal footing with humans, or whether it’s just to satisfy his own curiosity. Either way, it broke up the lessons a bit, and gave my brain a chance to rest. Kohric is picking up English faster than I’m picking up Azu-nah. But then again he’s cheating. He’s had that LangTutor for two years!

I mostly picked up nouns. Stuff like tree, rock, grass, hand, foot, mouth, eyes, tail. The proper word for the tree tents is “kirrrrt’ok” Yeah, it’s a weird, weird word. Sounds like someone dropped a quarter. You know how some human languages have rolling R’s? Well, the Azu-nah apparently wanted to one-up us. They have the regular R-sound, but they also have one that’s… well… a freakin’ mini-growl. It’s hard to describe. The closest is a cat. Ever have a cat? And when she’s hungry she follows you around making you crazy and going prrrrt? Prrrt? Prrrt? It’s almost like that. The rolling part is guttural, formed in the throat instead of with the tongue. And it ends with an abrupt, almost projected T-sound.

It wouldn’t be so bad if that was the only funky sound they incorporated. But there’s also an extended S-sound that’s a second cousin to a hiss, and they have a chirpy, high pitch sound that I despair of ever managing. Take the sound “khee,” try to make the sound back in your throat instead of near your teeth, and hike the pitch way up. It sounds a lot better in an Azu-nah throat. A bit bird-like, really. I sound like a gorilla on helium.

I eventually started losing my voice a little from the strain and Kohric decided we were done for the day. I took this opportunity to try and explain my food problem to him.

It. Took. Forever.

I drew pictures; little stick figure Azu-nah and humans, each on their own sphere to try to explain the two different worlds, pictures of food, pictures of hunters, of meat and gathered things. I drew a human eating on the human sphere, looking happy, and a second on the Azu-nah sphere lying on its side after eating food. Then I mimed it all. I went through a half dozen different motions for eating and then becoming ill or vomiting. Kohric kept staring at me intently, and after an eternity he held up the LangTutor. “Poison,” the robotic voice repeated, and the image showed a rat eating something and then falling over. The Azu-nah word is eskthi, by the way.

Things went smoother after that breakthrough. “Is food poison to me? I must learn,” I said simply. Kohric seemed excited to finally understand the point behind my idiot antics.

“We learn how?” he asked.

Dammit. I didn’t know the Azu word for “test.” I looked around in frustration and finally grabbed my computer pad. This wasn’t quite accurate, but it was close enough. “Computer will eat first,” I said, pointing to the pad. Kohric didn’t look impressed. He was probably doubting my pad’s ability to suddenly grow teeth and chow down on a steak or something. I don’t blame him for being skeptical. But he seemed to understand the basic idea.

He told me to wait and ran off. He came back almost half an hour later, balancing a saddle-like basket across his back with his tail. Inside was a small pile of finger-sized bits of different foods; pieces of fruit, tuber pieces, strips of dried meat, and a couple small chunks of fresh meat. There were leaf-looking things, stuff that seemed half nut, half bean, and several small stalk-like things that vaguely resembled pre-harvest grain grass.

I thanked Kohric over and over, both in Azu and English. He seemed pleased and watched intently as I scraped and stabbed probes from my kit into each piece. He soon recognized the chime my pad made when the analysis completed, and would ask “good?” immediately. When I’d answer “no” he’d take the offending sample and eat it. It was cute. It was almost as if he was trying to get the offending bit out of the way so it wouldn’t upset me.

I’m not entirely happy with the results.

Seems while I’m on Minerva I’m going to have to be a pretty strict vegetarian. Which is odd, because I honestly didn’t expect that. I figured the plants would be full of funky chemicals and freakish indigestible cellulose. But they’re actually mostly simple sugars, fats, and even protein in a couple of those nut-bean thingies. The meat, though. Ugh. If it isn’t full of indigestible, freakishly folded proteins, it’s so thick with the native Minervan toxins that I’d drop like a shot duck after a couple bites. I’d have to blow through several days worth of anti-toxin just to get through a meal, assuming all that chemical warfare didn’t just make my circulatory system melt or something.

So, I guess chestha steak is off the menu. Ah well. Freaky six-legged buggers looked gamey anyway.