Sacred Trust by Roxanne Barbour

this morning,” I objected. I hope I scanned it correctly.
    Dad explained to Ambassador Tata I’d stumbled upon a restricted area the previous day.
    â€œNo worry, Naru. Historical Records fine. Understand history; excellent choice.”
    My father didn’t respond, but I foresaw difficult conversations in my future.
    â€œNaru, person meet,” said Ambassador Tata, and led my father away.
    The rest of my evening turned out delightful. I managed to get some dinner and had a short conversation with Tata about meeting at the Historical Records Museum the next day. Then I started quizzing the Arandi about their society. Perhaps I went a little overboard but I received no complaints, not even from Dad.
    The next morning, I wandered around the museum until Tata appeared.
    I decided on bluntness. “Should I call you Tata or Eonus?”
    â€œTata, unless parent or friend.”
    â€œDoesn’t that get confusing in a large family?” I thought about a few of the groupings I knew back on Earth. Many siblings and cousins all being called by their last name would create chaos.
    â€œMeaning large family?” Tata stared at me.
    â€œOh, you know; more than one brother or sister, cousins with the same last name, large connected relationships.” How is the translator coping with my babbling?
    Tata pulled out his com and poked at it.
    Not well, apparently. The glance I received confused me.
    After a number of clicks, Tata asked, “Brother, sister?”
    â€œActually I don’t, but lots of human families have more than one child.”
    â€œOh.” Tata patted his head.
    â€œWhy are you ‘oh-ing’?”
    â€œArandi family, one offspring.”
    No wonder he’d looked confused. Could they sustain their population growth with only one child? How long do they live? Another couple research projects landed on my horizon.
    I decided on a new subject. “Well, each world to their own. Now, did you find out why I got into trouble yesterday?”
    â€œSmall data; incident one hundred cycles past; spaceflight.”
    Since a human year equaled one Arandi cycle—approximately—something apparently happened one hundred human years ago. “How long have you had spaceflight?” My research had found minimal discussion regarding their race to space.
    â€œOne thousand cycles.”
    â€œThat’s a long time. So let’s go see your space museum. Do you have one close by?” I loved museums.
    Tata said, “Cannot.”
    Inexplicably, his response angered me. “Why not? This should be easy peasy!” Inexplicably, I wanted to stamp my foot.
    â€œNot approved.”
    â€œYou don’t have access?” Why would any world have a museum without access? “Do you know anyone who does?”
    Tata turned away for a time then said, “No access.”
    â€œWhat?” I took a deep breath and waited for a moment before saying, “For Pete’s sake, why is there no access?”
    Tata’s brow crinkled in confusion. “Who Pete?”
    I waved my hand. “Forget it; it’s just an Earth saying. Why can’t we get in?”
    â€œNot diplomatic.” Tata’s face became shiny pink.
    This time, I stomped my foot. “Again, do you know anyone who has access?”
    In response, Tata stomped his foot. Although, by the way he looked down, the action surprised even him. “Yes,” he said.
    I tried patience or, at least, my version of it. “Tata, enlighten me. Who do you know with access?”
    â€œMother.” A most reluctant response.
    Of course, an ambassador of this world would have access. Okay, I’d asked a stupid question. “So she’ll take us to the museum then?” I crossed my fingers.
    â€œNo.” Tata wouldn’t look at me.
    â€œWell, that’s not helpful.” I pursed my lips; I needed to think of some persuasion. Neither of us spoke for a considerable