by Alma Boykin
To his surprise the female replied for the pair. “Yes, wise guide. I have been sent here by my Clan Lord, Lord Shu, to work in the Clan terminal at New Southdown. My mate works in security and seeks employment in the area. Shahkay is in my section and told us about this faith-pack.” Kleet, her mate, gestured his agreement.
“You are welcome to return,” Roshee offered, sweeping his tail in a friendly gesture. “I am glad to answer questions about our faith-pack, as you call it, and we have junior-tenders at the Twelfth-day services.” The female shuddered and Kleet stepped closer to her but neither spoke. “Has Shahkay given you my message information?”
“Yes, and invited us this evening. We will be back,” the male assured the priest. Roshee noted the male’s odd voice, a throaty hissing as if he had been injured and the vocal folds healed with scars.
“May your hunt prosper and the moons give you light,” Roshee dismissed them. They bowed at the benediction and walked down the low, shallow ramp, disappearing into the shadows. After they left, the priest turned to Tareshah. Shahkay, finished with cleaning up a little accident that one of the juniors had beside the porch, joined her mate and Roshee gestured a question.
“I think, although I have not asked, wise guide,” Shahkay’s words hesitated before rushing. “I think that Clan Shu sent them away from the Clan lands. Shu-kara was not welcomed to Clan Shu’s cargo depot, even though she works hard and well.” Roshee filed the news away and the three reptiles went their ways under the light of two quarter moons.
4. When the Past Returns…
Imperial Palace/Capitol, Likhala, Drakon IV, Eight Double-Moons BGR (2659 Old Style)
The horrible day began quietly enough. Seetoh, the King of Drakon IV and Emperor of the Azdhag Empire, woke up and stretched, leaving Tsara sleeping on her part of the platform, the blanket pulled close around her and leaving only the tip of her muzzle visible. They’d mated for alliance, not affection, but she’d born him two males and a female and had seemed relieved when he took two other mates. He in turn gave her his respect and did his best to keep her satisfied. Seetoh, careful of talons on the new tile floor, padded silently out of the sleeping chamber and into his main personal chamber where servants had hot shootee broth, tea, and spiced grain balls waiting, along with a robe. Seetoh stretched his hind legs and fore legs, then bathed before putting on a day robe.
He studied himself in the reflecting surface by the hot pool. He saw green-black hide with “ageless” light brown eyes, or so a courtier had called them. Like his short-legged dam he stood only a meter or so at the shoulder, but that meant he went easier on his hind-legs than taller Azdhagi could. Seetoh pulled on his robe, automatically checking the fit against his neck-spines and being careful not to snag the embroidery with his talons. He wrapped a sash around his lower ribs, holding the robe decently closed, and confirmed yet again that it covered him almost to the first joint of his tail. His elder brother had short-robed him once. Two sixts of years later Seetoh still checked his hems.
King-Emperor Seetoh broke his fast while listening to domestic news updates. Then he went to his workroom, with all his computers, data projectors, and information storage banks. He worked for two hours without pausing. After a relief trip he spent another two hours listening to the reports from the governors on Pokara and Teelkan. Seetoh entered notes alongside the visual data where appropriate and outlined his responses. The Imperial Council would not meet in person for at least two sixts of days, longer if the weather continued as it had been, but the delay posed no great problems since little of note needed the councilors’ attention. Work done for the moment, the reptile got up from his bench, rolled his head back and forth to loosen stiff neck and shoulder muscles, and stretched his hind legs. On impulse he walked over to the outside door. A servant appeared and Seetoh ordered, “My walking coat and foot covers.”
“Yes, Imperial Majesty,” and the smaller grey reptile hurried away, returning within a minute with a hip-length over-garment and four leather and synthetic boots.
Seetoh dressed and opened the door, venturing out into the damp and somewhat muddy mess that would eventually become the imperial family’s private gardens. He studied the seemingly random piles of soil and rock and the scattered depression where ponds would be, seeing the final product in his mind’s eye.
A warrior by training and a monarch by birth and education, Seetoh had completely failed in his efforts to master the traditional artistic skills of the nobility. He found poetry and literature dull and visual art boring, although he had studied both. Utterly deaf to the finer points of music, the reptile had despaired until, to his surprise, he discovered that he enjoyed garden design and seemed rather good at it. Now free to create a masterpiece, the green-black Azdhag walked around piles of soil and rock, stopping at one point to look over the back-trail and check the view. “No, too direct.” He returned to the doorway and started again, this time making a long curve to his weak-side before reaching the same point. “Much better,” and he made a mental note to change the plan for that path. Curves provided more opportunities for views and plantings, as well as for privacy and indirection. Only prey traveled in straight lines: predators, especially top predators, curved their trails.
Seetoh stopped by the herbage depot and looked over the trees that he’d selected. The garden would have coin-leaf trees, of course, both for their shade and their fall foliage and because his favorite mate, Tahshi, liked them. Traitor-claw might not survive in the open this far north, but the plant breeder had assured his king that it would grow within a sheltered garden, just not as large as it did in warmer latitudes. Seetoh looked at one of the needle-leaved northern trees and used his own length to measure it—like him it stretched two and a half meters or so. Both were average for their type. A hole already waited for the tree, but the recent rains made planting it imprudent for the next day or so. Large trays of ground-covering plants also waited for drier soil before they could find new homes, and the male sniffed them carefully while looking for any sign of mold or stem weakness.
Seetoh snorted at himself. Four planets to rule, a succession question that will probably cause a Clan war, and you are measuring plants. Your sire would claw your tail into bits if he saw you, the king thought to himself. And Seeksi would have. Seeksi preferred the arts of sex to any other form of recreation, which at least meant that Seetoh had enough brothers and half-brothers to form a stable core of government. And wonder of wonders, the pack got along with itself, which was more than could be said for most lineages. I wonder if it is time for either Ro-diit or Tarkeela to suffer from a hunting accident? Both of those clans need a little thinning of the weak. Seetoh imagined ripping out Tarkeela’s throat and felt a warm flush of pleasure. Then he shook himself and picked his way through the damp spots, returning to his office for an inter-continental appointment. But first he called up the garden plan and drew in the revised path. Much better, he mused, sipping hot shootee broth.
Precisely on time, a soft chime sounded and a holo-projection of Maker Tsae, the lead researcher of Central City, appeared in Seetoh’s workroom. The older reptile bowed low. “You may rise,” Seetoh told the image.
“Thank you, Imperial Majesty. I apologize for disturbing you, but some things have developed that you need to be aware of. If I may be direct?”
“Certainly, Maker Tsae,” Seetoh said as he made a forefoot gesture of permission.
“Imperial Majesty, you are familiar with Project Star-Strong? A series of complications seems to have developed leading to previously unforeseen difficulties.”
“What is the problem, Maker Tsae?” King-Emperor Seetoh asked quietly, bracing for bad news about the special project. The results probably were not as definitive as the scientists had forecast, he grumbled, and things would take longer than planned.
The older reptile shifted his weight from side to side, unable to conceal his anxiety as his tail slapped back and forth and his neck-spines trembled. “Something has been going wrong, S
eetoh. Very wrong and we, that is the geneticists and chemists and I, do not know how to stop it.”
Black-green Seetoh held himself still despite his surge of anger and disappointment. “What is ‘it’ that you cannot stop?” Probably a reversion to the mean in the latest generations, erasing all the gains the project promised, he thought.
“Now that the fifth generation is beginning, we are seeing what seems to have been a miscalculation about the necessary genetic alterations, sir,” the scientist explained. “The results are not what they should have been and they are transmissible.” Tsae sounded uncertain for the first time Seetoh had ever heard, and the King-Emperor’s anger shifted to concern.
“What are these results?”
“Alterations in energy use patterns within the fourth generation after initial injection, leading to overwhelming negative outcomes for the majority of the fifth generation.”
The King-Emperor glared at the image of floating over his work surface. “Plain language, please, Tsae,” he reminded the researcher.
“Lethal metabolic changes and genetic mutations, sir, in eighty percent of the juniors.”
The sound of breaking plastic and glass filled the room as Seetoh smashed the hologram projector with his fisted forefoot. Oh great holy One, Seetoh prayed silently, what have we done?
Many times over the next year-turns Seetoh wished that he could hire a Trader, Osstal, or Rowfow time-pilot, go back and order his three-times sire’s scientific advisor to stop before she had even started the Star-Strong Project. He mentioned his dream once to his second elder brother and Tsarli waved his forefoot and tail. “They’d never allow it, even for you, sire’s son. I asked, flankwards, and the reply was no. The back trail is barred.”
And so it was. As prince-Archivist Seedak phrased it one night, after drinking too much derzhin, “Four generations before, Maker Seeri and King Laski waded into the deeps without a float-log, assuming that no storms would come and raise the sea around them. But the log failed to float as long as they predicted, and storms unimagined swamped the raft.” And now their few surviving children fled from the waters. Seetoh both marveled at what they had tried to accomplish and yearned to kill them for that daring.
Maker Tsae “returned” a few days after technicians repaired the holo-projector in Seetoh’s office. “As of the last report, Imperial Majesty, only Clans Beerkali, Blee, Shu, Tarkeela, and Zhi-king remain completely without symptoms. Some common families as well, but every urban Clan has affected members, with the heaviest alteration rates found among the out-Clan city residents,” Tsae read from a screen to the side of where he stood. “As soon as the pattern became evident, we tried to get the local law enforcers and Clan heads to isolate the affected and to stop them from breeding, but more and more have appeared. And some estates have stopped replying to our calls.” He reached over and manipulated a projected data display with one forefoot and added, “We may have underestimated the spread of the corrupted material, Imperial Majesty.”
They had. Tsae continued, “We do not have the full information anymore, Imperial Majesty, but in order to carry out their project as quickly as they thought safe the Makers approached select nobles and commoners alike with offers of participation in the experiment. When many declined, we think that King Laski quietly permitted his scientists to offer the commoners places in some of the rising Clans, or places as Clan heads, if their offspring proved worthy. And it appears,” Tsae looked down, unable to keep eye contact, “that the Makers were not completely honest in how they advertised the project to the volunteers. But we cannot be certain. We do know that a large number of Azdhagi living in the cities took up the offer, as did several of the Clans, most notably Raetee.”
“Why were you unable to identify this problem earlier, Tsae?” Seetoh asked quietly. “And why did you not report it to me earlier?”
“Imperial Majesty, we couldn’t trace the bloodlines outside of some lineages. We, that is, the Star-Strong Project, lost a large amount of data in the Floods of ’47, just like everyone else,” Tsae protested. “We can no longer trace the lineages of most of those who participated in the initial phase of the Project. And apparently the Project participants reproduced more than the population average, if you compare the numbers of births per capita to the number of affected juniors currently appearing.”
Seetoh ground his teeth and growled silently, Yes, they would have ‘reproduced more than the population average.’ They were outside of lineage limits and we breed like tree-fuzzies when permitted to, you blind fool. Aloud the reptile inquired, “That does not explain why you did not tell me what happened earlier.”
“Ah, Imperial Majesty, for two reasons. One, we were not sure of the pattern of deaths until early last year, and we wanted to stop the problem before it could spread farther.” Tsae took a deep breath and continued, “Second, we had to keep very, very quiet because of the media. The story-chasers would only sow panic among the out-Clan if they learned of the problem.”
Seetoh felt his jaw starting to drop and caught himself. “That has to be the stupidest thing I have ever heard anyone besides Lord Tarkeela utter, Maker Tsae. You did not trust your liege lord and king,” he snarled, flexing his talons out of sight of the video receiver.
The Maker offered neither answer nor excuse. After a long silence Seetoh continued, “Tell me again: which lineages are unaffected thus far?”
Year-turns after the disaster, Seetoh asked Great Lords Kirlin and Beerkali about their sires’ and grand-sires’ decisions. Light green Beerkali scratched under his muzzle and thought for a moment. “Imperial Majesty, as best I can tell, my ancestor could not trust what he could not see, even in proven technology. And at almost three meters from muzzle-end to tail tip, he enforced his decisions rather firmly.”
Kirlin had rumpled his tail at the question. “My three-back sire granted permission to those who wanted to participate in the corruption, but limited who they could mate with. And the lethal mutations appeared earliest in Kirlin lineage, thinning the weak from the pack quickly. It was a mixed touch of good fortune, Imperial Majesty,” the muddy brown reptile observed.
Central City, Sseekhala, The Next Day
Kirlak poured another very large serving of derzhin and threw it down her throat, not even tasting the rough, cheap intoxicant. That should be enough, she hoped. Sleep no longer came easily, even after working extra time to do six autopsies that day. She’d been relieved beyond measure when the last one proved to be an adult who died in his sleep of a blood vessel leak in his brain. At least two dead juniors per day appeared on the autopsy table, all the males colored black, all dead of organ failure. Coree had confessed that he saw them in his sleep and Kirlak felt a little better about her weakness. Because she saw them too: thus the derzhin in the evening.
Now numb, green Kirlak skimmed over the evening news pages. A volcano in the Unnumbered Islands threatened to impede air and water traffic to that area and jeopardized the orange fish catch for the season. The wrestling association had set the slate for the semi-finals, and the article’s author reminded readers that because wagering on wrestling remained forbidden she had included the odds only as a favor for those interested in statistics. A group of irate females had cornered the chief medical specialist in New Southdown, forcing him to barricade himself in his office until the peacekeepers could rescue him. Kirlak snorted with derision until she saw that the mob included over two twelves of females, all from Zlee-kae lineage. The story-catcher noted that a leader of a semi-prohibited sect of the Lone God had led the females to the medical office, apparently departing before the peacekeepers could talk with him. Kirlak wondered if he were from Roshee’s congregation, and felt a shiver of worry. Even she’d heard the rumors about Roshee.
Well, she had other things to worry about. The weather forecast included more rain, and the roof of the third floor of the lab needed repair. When workers had replaced the primary air-cooling unit, they’d cut the waterproof coating on a different part of
the roof, or so the chief of maintenance had said that afternoon. “Aye, and can’t fix it without shutting down the cooler, so you’d best talk to Tsae about giving you a rest day. That or buy fish tanks and a fungus farm kit.” Maybe the two of them, stalking Tsae from both sides, could convince him to close the forensic section for a day or two.
Elsewhere in Central City, a certain story-catcher looked around his office and decided that he’d packed everything. Cheerka’s personal belongings waited in a transport outside, and all he needed to do was finish dragging his work things down so the cargo movers could load them. He swept his tail back and forth as he hooked pull-straps to the first pair of boxes, then turned on the lift pads and adjusted the weight control until the boxes just cleared the floor. Like every junior who had the opportunity, Cheerka had gotten into mischief with lift pads, but not this time. The tan-and-brown male hooked the first strap to the second, before clipping the main strap to his carry harness. He took his time descending the ramp to the vehicle and then supervised the loading himself. Everything fit into five big boxes, and one of the cargo movers helped guide the worktable down and around. Barring a disaster, Cheerka’s things would arrive in Sea Gate in four days.
Cheerka watched the cargo vehicle drive off, and then clambered into a borrowed road cruiser, and after some fumbling strapped himself in and set off into the lengthening shadows. He’d arranged with a road cruiser dealer to deliver the vehicle to Sea Gate. That way neither reptile had to spend a credit more than necessary and nothing turned up for the tax collector to inquire about. Cheerka navigated the city’s outskirts and made an amused negation.
