“Uh-huh. We found something we’ve got in common. Better late than never.”
The captain pushed away from the support bar. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll head back to the ship. I’ve got something to write.” A letter to my daughter. “Enjoy the storm.”
“You bet. Thanks for the talk, Skipper.”
“Oh, and Annie?”
“Yeah?”
“Happy birthday.”
The technician winked. “Like I said, better late than never.”
* * *
The Bona Dea departed five days later by Ramiran reckoning, or four by ship’s time.
Negotiations had concluded shortly after the sandstorm had finally dissipated. In the end, the women had traded an extensive library of human literature and music, the secret of the Kohler-Schmid Drive, several dozen samples collected from Mahi Mata, a chess set, two guitars, a Rubik’s Cube, a copy of Conquest: Andromeda, three replicas of British maritime vessels, a set of Japanese kokeshi dolls representing the months of the year, five pebbles from a beach on Washington Island, three pearl necklaces, three toothbrushes, four teacups and a bikini.
In return they received the two fragments of Vitana’s artefact, an encyclopaedia full of information on Mahi Mata and the colonies, both present and historical, numerous literary and cultural works, hundreds of tins of food, a respectable amount of money, and honorary citizenship of Ramira.
This last was potentially life-saving, as it meant that any ill treatment the humans received at the hands of the other five colonies would have serious diplomatic repercussions. They would also have access to the Ramiran ambassadors who were stationed on each of the other worlds.
Once the deal was settled, it took only a day to carry out the necessary data interchange and move the physical goods. They were ready to go. Haji made it plain that they were welcome to stay and enjoy his world’s hospitality for as long as they liked, but Hunter opted to depart as soon as routine flight checks on the Bona Dea were completed. Morale had been high on her ship since the election, and she wasn’t about to jeopardise that with any unnecessary delays.
She did, at least, have time to accept Haji’s offer of a last meal together at his house before she left.
“Truly, I am sad to see you go,” he said, idly pushing the remains of a stringy blue vegetable around his plate with a powerful finger. “You could have been a great success here, Miriam, with your skill as a trader. Our culture is built around sound minds and strong character. Your alien nature wouldn’t be held against you; you may find, as you explore the colonies of our cousins, that this isn’t always the case.”
“Can you tell me about them?” asked Hunter. “The other colonies. I know there’s plenty of raw data on them in the encyclopaedia you’ve given us, but I’ve found that scholarly texts seldom capture the true flavour of a people. I wonder what we can expect…”
The Grand Merchant thoughtfully stroked the patterned hair on his ribs. “Stereotypes, I’ve always believed, are an evil. It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to try and summarise the diverse cultures found on planets with millions of inhabitants into a few trite generalisations.”
“Fair point; I guess we’ll have to judge for ourselves once we get there.”
Haji raised a hand, smiling broadly. “I said it wouldn’t be appropriate. I didn’t say I’m not going to do it. Just be aware that what I’m about to say won’t apply to everyone you meet.”
The captain returned his smile. “Understood.”
“My world and Lega you know about already. Monosade and Anasade, I’m sorry to say, define themselves almost entirely by their tempestuous relationship with each other. The truth is that they’re more similar than either wants to let on – warring twins, the rest of us call them. One’s mostly covered with trees, the other with water; Monosade’s army is slightly stronger, but not by enough to score an outright victory. There are dissident factions on both worlds who stir up trouble any time the political situation seems to be settling down. Actually, I’ve heard a theory that the Monosadan fragment that went missing wasn’t taken by Anasade, but hidden by local warmongers to inflame the passions of the populace and make lasting peace impossible. I don’t usually give such wild ideas much credence, but it doesn’t seem completely implausible.”
“It sounds like we’ll be walking into quite a mess. Kerin and Gatari are in better shape, perhaps?”
“On the surface, yes. They have – or had – a rivalry of their own, but it was never military in nature. Out of the planets Vitana offered us to settle on, those two had the most balanced climates and attracted the most settlers.
“Imagine a family with six children, Miriam. Two of those children are much bigger than the rest and compete for the status of high achiever. Throughout their youthful years, they’re neck and neck, but then, suddenly, one of them makes a breakthrough. Fame, wealth, and power are theirs. The other sibling is forgotten.”
“Bitterness would follow.”
“Yes. The high achiever is Kerin, and the breakthrough came when Sheko, the genius I spoke of once before, came to prominence on their planet. The technological boost he provided thrust them to a position of undisputed pre-eminence that they still hold today.”
“Kerin … that name seems unusual. I had understood that in your language, words only ended with a consonant when an extra meaning was being imparted.”
“Traditionally that’s true, and Kerin was simply Keri when it was founded. But their people became a rather arrogant lot, and started playing with the language, creating abnormalities like that. Apparently, what’s good enough for the rest of us won’t do for them. And, yes, I may be slightly jealous.”
“But not as jealous as the Gatarans, perhaps?”
“No. They were hit hardest by Kerin’s success, because they’d grown accustomed to measuring themselves against their rivals. When they were unequivocally beaten, when they fell back into the shadows, they suffered a collective identity crisis. Over sixteen generations have passed, but there’s still a lot of bitterness and ill-feeling there. They’ve also become somewhat hedonistic, I feel. Decadent. Such things happen when a people have their national identity ripped from them.”
“And Gatari’s our next destination.”
He frowned. “A long journey, even with your KSD. Are you sure you won’t use our monoliths to move among the colonies? You risk wearing out the technology.”
Hunter shook her head. For good measure, she also threw in the elaborate Matan hand wave that indicated a lack of concern.
“We’re confident that it’ll last us for as long as it needs to, and we’ll always have the monoliths as a backup if need be.”
“Unless your drive fails in deep space…”
“Rest assured we won’t jump if there’s any danger of that happening. I do appreciate your offer, but we couldn’t take the Bona Dea with us and there’d be complications if we left it here. The ship’s engines need occasional maintenance even when idle, we’d have a dilemma as to whether or not to take Chamonix with us, and then there’s the psychological angle – going into unknown territory without even a ship to call home. My crew needs that feeling of security.”
“I understand. But please don’t forget that you are honorary Ramirans now; if you find yourselves in danger, we will help if we can. I’d offer to meet you on Gatari, but I’ve a busy diplomatic schedule for the next couple of seasons.”
“Don’t worry about that; you’ve done more than enough, and we can take care of ourselves.”
“I’m sure you can.”
They both rose to their feet, as though at an unspoken signal that it was time for Hunter to go.
“Is there any Ramiran tradition we should observe?” asked the captain. “For the parting of friends who do not know when they will meet again?”
Or if, she added silently.
Haji smiled. “A simple hug is standard.”
They embraced. Hunter’s hands didn’t come close to meeting each
other across the Ramiran’s brawny back. His own touch was surprisingly gentle, though his muscles were as unyielding as steel.
“Safe journey, Miriam,” he said. “Safe journey home.”
* * *
Three hours later, the Bona Dea was sailing the stars once again. The ship would need to reach a safe distance from the system’s star to ensure that its ephemeral well didn’t interfere with the first of the four KSD leaps required to reach Gataran space.
It was the early hours of April 12th, the Gregorian calendar once again firmly installed as the crew’s chronological system of choice. Their target arrival date was May 24th. Plenty of time, Hunter thought, to focus their minds on the next challenge.
The captain was seated at her desk, studying the two fragments they’d purchased at such a high price. They appeared, based on the writing engraved on them, to be the top left and top right sections of Vitana’s artefact; there was a top middle piece to go between them, so she couldn’t try and fit them together yet.
On the face of it, they appeared unremarkable – pieces of a grey stone tablet, slightly uneven, each about the size of an open book. One might imagine the tablet had been smashed, an angry ogre taking his club to it, until one examined the broken edges. The cuts were too precise, with no signs of any crumbling. Hunter felt sure that once the six pieces were gathered together they’d fit perfectly, with not so much as a pebble missing.
To whom would the complete artefact lead? They had nothing to go on besides the identification Vitana had provided. “Greater God” was written on the fragments – “Chitana” in the Matan language.
Greater in which way? Power? That’s the most obvious meaning, and we do need this God to grant us a miracle. Hopefully it’s possessed of a higher morality as well. If not, then I suppose we may need to count on Chamonix to add some weight to our appeal. Chitana may be her grandparent, after all. That has to be worth something.
Hunter felt good – light and energetic, and not just because they’d left the Ramiran climate and gravity behind. The incident with the Legans had shaken her confidence in her own diplomatic abilities, she realised, together with her faith that any sentient species must evolve in the direction of peace.
Both confidence and faith were now restored. She was the first woman – the first human, she corrected herself – who could number the co-ruler of an alien world among her friends, and there was every prospect of positive future contact between Earth and Ramira, provided that the women managed to report their findings back home. And might their relationship with Lega still be salvageable? Hunter thought so.
On top of that, she’d seen off a leadership challenge, and her rapport with the crew was stronger than it had been for years. They all had cause to face the future with hope.
No more doubt. No more fear.
Whatever lies ahead, we can handle it.
Interlude
Attendance was high in the Assembly Node today. From his lofty perch, Isik Karteeb was well-placed to count how many of the seven hundred and eighty-one seats were taken, though he preferred to test his brain by estimating.
Seven hundred three? he enquired silently.
Seven hundred four, the emotionless response from Xerpa sounded in his head.
And in the observation galleries, nine hundred eighty-four?
Correct.
Good. His mind was sharp this morning. But then, it always was.
The people had come to hear updates on the humans, of course; that subject was next on the agenda. The current topic for debate, concerning the relative allocations of resources to the scientific branches of Weapons Technology and Non-biological Naissance, primarily interested those active in the fields in question. Karteeb himself was quite content to sit back and let the various protagonists argue their cases.
There was certainly no better place to practice politics than the Assembly Node, vast and spectacular. It was quarter-spherical in shape, with the majestic sweep of the curve being given over to a screen on which Xerpa could project whatever the speaker desired, from simple statistical breakdowns to artistic visions of possible futures.
The politicians themselves were arranged in five semi-circular tiers against the single flat wall; each of these levels was smaller than the last, with the top one being accessible only to the current Isik. That role had been filled by Karteeb for some time now and he had no plans to relinquish it.
Of course, others in the vast node had their own plans.
The debate on resource allocation was beginning to drag, Karteeb decided. The main protagonists were from the second tier of the political pyramid and didn’t usually speak before an audience of this size. They were both trying too hard to milk the opportunity, with melodramatic speeches and dramatic, sweeping arm movements.
Time to vote, he prompted Xerpa, and the curving screen had shifted to convey this message before the words finished forming in his head.
Karteeb voted in favour of the Non-biological Naissance department, judging their work to be substantially more forward-looking. As his vote counted for one fifth of the total, and only a simple majority was required to win, this gave them a huge advantage, and indeed they prevailed comfortably.
“Eight hundred sixteen units per cycle are hereby allocated to Non-biological Naissance,” declared Karteeb, rising to his feet. His voice was amplified and carried to every ear. “Next on the agenda, a debate on our policy with regards to the humans.” He spoke the words with the proper professional disinterest, but others displayed less self-control. Up as high as the third tier, he could see backs straightening and heads turning in his direction. “A brief update for the unaware: the Bona Dea has left Ramira with two fragments of Vitana’s relic and are now on their way to Gatari for the third. We anticipate no difficulties with this journey.
“The Gatarans are expecting the humans’ arrival, and plan to invite them to take part in the Zakazashi; while some of the Gataran political class still favour seizing the Bona Dea by force, more diplomatic voices have prevailed. The humans will have little choice but to accept the challenge. After that, events become harder to calculate.”
Xerpa, which had been scribing a probability chart on the screen as he spoke, underlined his comment with a flood of calculations, each showing wide margins of error.
“As you will perceive,” Karteeb continued, “The humans are more likely to defeat the Zakazashi if Captain Hunter chooses her savant to be part of the team. The athlete and our own plant are also useful resources. In any case, three outcomes must be considered. Firstly, regardless of the outcome of the Zakazashi, the Gatarans may betray the humans and seize possession of their two fragments. Secondly, the humans may fail the Zakazashi, whereupon they are likely to return to Ramira. Finally, the humans may prevail, in which case they will take three fragments with them to their next destination, Kerin.”
Karteeb paused, enjoying the clarity which could be drawn from the mess of possibilities. He abhorred chaos.
“The first outcome is the least likely – the humans are Ramiran citizens, so any action against them may be seen as an act of war. The other five colonies would surely agree on this, even Monosade and Anasade. Gatari would be cut off from all trade, which would have a serious impact on their space programme, as well as basic quality of life for the populous. Within five generations, their leaders would experience irresistible pressure to re-establish diplomatic ties, even if the cost of doing so was all three of their fragments. This would be acceptable to us.
“The second outcome is less useful, though not actively harmful. If the humans return to Ramira, that world will see rapid technological advancement, but not enough to upset the current balance. The fragments will eventually return to their possession. Our goal to see them unified will be no closer but no further away.
“The final outcome is the most desirable. There, the humans will proceed to Kerin with half of Vitana’s relic. President Mokubarij may then be expected to suggest a joint venture to collect the rema
ining fragments. The spotlight shall alight on the warring siblings of Monosade and Anasade. At last, the stalemate may be broken, and the last two fragments released from their icy prison.
“So, the possibilities range between good and neutral. We have acted only twice to accomplish this: once when we led the Bona Dea to the old home world and once more when we prevented them from returning to Earth. We have not interfered with the colonies and remain secure in our secrecy. I am satisfied and propose no further action. Now let others speak.”
Karteeb scanned the list of bidders on his personal screen, searching for a particular name that he hoped was there. He found it.
“Surna of the third tier, begin the discussion.”
Again, that faint frisson passed through the node. Many amongst the first and second tiers were surprised, as Karteeb had called upon one of his most vocal critics when under no compulsion to do so. More experienced politicians would recognise his display of confidence for what it was. Let Surna throw her best punches; he was secure in the properness of his actions.
To her credit, Surna showed no surprise at being given the opportunity. She rose unhurriedly and turned to look up at Karteeb, her gaze cool and neutral, and ran the fingers of one hand vertically over her bald crown, symbolically ordering her thoughts in the style of the great orators. When she spoke, her voice was rich and clear; she left the massive screen behind her blank and grey, letting her words do the work.
“Honoured senior, we are greatly surprised that you desire no further intervention in this matter. After all, you have clearly identified the most desirable of your three outcomes: that in which the humans prevail. So agile a mind as yours must be able to conceive of many schemes to make this dream a reality.
“We might sabotage the robotic guardian of the Zakazashi. The Gatarans would likely discover our handiwork, but they may not blame it on us.
“We might send a stealth agent to aid the humans under the cloak of invisibility. True, the discovery of this agent would all but confirm our existence, but he would probably escape detection.
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