Tear Tracks Read Online Free Page A

nodding, but Flur reads it as more polite than comprehending, and she’s trying to remember the words, find the right phrase to explain it, how it’s not just written tests, but also character, leadership qualities, sacrifices, observations by instructors and mentors, toughness, drills …
    â€œâ€¦ happy to have you here,” the alien is saying, with seeming earnestness.
    Flur rouses herself back to her job. “We are very happy to be here too,” she manages. “But we will have to go home soon, and we would really like to complete this agreement. For the future.”
    Irnv leans back in her hammock. “We hope so. But it is a very short time.”
    â€œIt is,” Flur agrees, with as regretful a tone as she can summon. “The president…” she trails off, delicately.
    â€œThe president is a great woman,” Irnv says, in a tone that sounds to Flur very close to reverence.
    â€œShe is,” Flur agrees, disingenuously. Pause, effort at patience. “Perhaps it’s not the best time, though, with all she’s been through recently.”
    Irnv looks confused, then understands. “You mean the loss of her family? But that wasn’t recent, that was many years ago.”
    Years ago?
    It takes Flur a moment to recover from that, and when she does Irnv is looking at her curiously. She puts out her hand, and the supple, red-purple fingers curl around Flur’s arm. Flur is shocked to feel their warmth, faintly, through the protective space suit.
    â€œI think she will agree,” Irnv says. “It will take time. We can’t rush.”
    â€œOf course,” Flur answers, still feeling the pulse of warmth on her arm, though by then Irnv has removed her hand. “We go,” the Cyclops says, sliding the scarf back over the bottom of her face as she stands.
    They are not the first ones back into the meeting room, but it is still half-empty. Tsongwa and Slanks aren’t there yet, and Flur wonders what they might be talking about in the men’s room. She decides to put her time to good use.
    â€œIrnv,” she says gently, getting her attention from a conversation with another alien. “That—that face there?” Flur nods at the first one in the series, the two-tone blue and lavender portrait. “Is that like the fountain in the middle of the city?”
    Now that Flur has seen Irnv’s mouth she finds she can better interpret the movement of the muscles around it, even with the mask covering it. She is pretty sure Irnv is smiling. “Yes, yes,” she says, “you are right, that is another example. She is the founder of our city. After starting this city she was visited by very great tragedy. In her sorrow she wept, and her tears, different colors from each side of her eye, became the canals that we use to navigate and defend our city.”
    Flur is trying to figure out how to phrase her follow-up questions—does she probe whether Irnv understands it as a myth and exaggeration, or take it politely at face value?—when she notices Tsongwa has come back in with Slanks, and nods to them.
    â€œIt is in her honor,” Irnv continues, “that we now make the tear tracks on our faces, to represent her learning, sacrifice, and wisdom.” She runs her fingers along the deep grooves in her face.
    â€œYou … do that? How?” Flur asks, trying to sound interested and non-judgmental.
    â€œThere is a plant we use,” Irnv says. “But when one has really suffered, you can see the difference. As with her,” she adds in reverential tones as the president enters the room, and Flur can see that it is true, the wrinkles in her cheeks are softer and have a subtle shine to them.
    â€œThat’s … impressive,” she says, feeling that admiration is the correct thing to express, but then the president begins to speak.
    â€œVery regretfully,” she begins, her eye not nearly as