by Karen Lord
We set up our government-issue shelters on a spare platform (civil servants are discouraged from accepting hospitality when on duty in case of bias or conflict of interest). It was quite comfortable. The marsh was fed mainly by outflows from the Candirú, and it did not rain during the time we were there. Screens and repellent kept the biting insects away, and filters made collecting potable water as simple as leaning over the platform’s edge. Their sewage system was excellent, its tubing tucked away behind piles and under boardwalks leading to a treatment area some distance away on dry land. I took notes. I intended to keep up-to-date in my own field as much as possible.
When Dr. Daniyel finished taking the blood and tissue samples she needed, I went with her back to our landing site and we worked in the minilab that had been purpose-built into the shuttle for the mission. It wasn’t really my field, but some kinds of lab skills are pretty elementary, so I ended up helping a fair bit. It was a good thing too. I observed Dr. Daniyel and realized that something wasn’t quite right. She leaned over her work in a way that spoke not of absorption but of exhaustion.
“You’ll get your own DNA in the samples if you’re not careful,” I said lightly. “Perhaps you should take a break.”
Dr. Daniyel pulled her graying locs over one shoulder with a slow weariness that was oddly graceful, then stepped back to let me help with the analysis. “There will be time to rest after the mission’s done. I’ve been pushing for a global genetic registry for years now. Perhaps this can be the start of it.”
“It’s early in the mission. You mustn’t forget to pace yourself,” I said, expressing my concern with care. I didn’t want to appear to be telling my boss she looked unfit for command.
“Oh, this?” She smiled, waving a hand at herself. “Chronic. Still within Service parameters, but I do have a condition that makes me tire quite easily. That’s why I have Lian for the heavy lifting, but as for the rest of it, I’m pretty much the only person with the skill and experience for this job.”
I adjusted the meters and toggled the last few switches. “There. That should do it.” I looked at her. “With all due respect, ma’am, I can get the results later and save them to your files for you.”
She seemed amused and gratified at my solicitude, which was good because it could have gone either way, but then her face changed. “Aggregated data,” she said, her voice suddenly alert and firm. “We don’t do individual scans. This is an anthropological analysis, not a medical report.”
“Yes, ma’am. I am familiar with the bioethics section of the Science Code,” I answered calmly.
She smiled once more, not offended at being humored. “It’s going to be a long mission. Feel free to call me Qeturah when off duty.”
“I’m Grace,” I responded. “But everyone calls me Delarua regardless.”
The results were interesting. These Cygnians did not possess a greater percentage of taSadiri genes compared with those in the last two settlements, appearance notwithstanding (genetics can be a funny potluck, let me tell you), but what they did have was a surprising amount of cultural integrity. Tarik and Nasiha went off to speak to the people, recording words, stories, myths, and customs in a far more detailed and directed manner than Cygnian anthropologists had yet accomplished. Of course, they had something we didn’t, a knowledge of some of the more obscure and ancient Sadiri dialects, and with that they were able to make far more connections and discoveries than we could.
Once the bio tests were all finished, there wasn’t much for me to do, but our stay was extended so that Dr. Daniyel could satisfy herself with more anthropological data and the Sadiri could explore the potential for links between their settlements. For a few days, I just relaxed and took it in. Sometimes I’d watch Joral, who was ostensibly helping the Science Council officers or taking minutes at meetings for Dllenahkh, but … quite honestly? Checking out the girls. It was an education in Sadiri flirting. One in particular must have been his favorite, because he all but disassembled one of the biosensors in order to spend time explaining its workings to her. Sadiri mating displays seemed to consist of flashing bright mental plumage at the object of desire in as cool and disinterested a fashion as possible.
Otherwise, I’d sit on the edge of a balcony staring at the mesmerizingly slow flow of the green water and hearing—overhearing, really—Dllenahkh debating some principle of Sadiri philosophy with the settlement’s Chief Councillor, Darithiven.
“Of all the humans of the galaxy, we Sadiri have developed the greatest mental capacity,” Dllenahkh contended. “We have realized our potential through use of the disciplines, which enable us to control our thoughts, emotions, and urges and improve our ability to process data. Without the disciplines we might still be powerful, but we would be rudderless.”
Darithiven smiled the slightly condescending smile of a man who is prepared to humor his opponent but not to yield the argument. “Your disciplines are indeed impressive. Your pilots use them to navigate ships on interstellar routes, and because of them all Sadiri have acquired a reputation for impartiality and diligence. Even now, our systems of justice and scientific endeavor continue to be headed by Sadiri. But here we live simpler lives, with less to trouble our minds. We need only enough self-control to maintain a harmonious society.” He extended his arms, embracing the view of his settlement and his people like a proud father.
Dllenahkh actually hesitated before replying. “Your settlement is indeed well organized and efficiently run. But there is more to the world, to the universe, than these waters. Perhaps you do not wish to explore the galaxy yourself, but what of your children and your children’s children? The earlier certain things are taught—”
The Chief Councillor shook his head and interrupted gently. “I hope you are not implying that we limit our children by what we teach or do not teach. We have our own version of the disciplines, and they are not lacking in rigor. It is simply that our goals differ. Is that so inappropriate?”
By this time, I’d be almost slipping into the water from boredom as they went back and forth on the question of the scope and purpose of the Sadiri disciplines. I could see Darithiven’s point. To tell the truth, this was one of the sleepiest settlements I’d ever encountered. People kept to themselves, not in an unfriendly fashion but as if truly uninterested in our presence. We saw them coming and going—men up to the river to fish, women to the nearby rice paddies and the other crop fields south of the marshes, the remainder busy at home with their arts, crafts, studies, or whatever else they chose to occupy themselves with. Whatever form of mental discipline they employed, it clearly worked for them. The settlement had the same atmosphere of measured efficiency that I’d encountered on the Sadiri homesteadings of my own province.
“How are the talks going?” I asked Dllenahkh.
His eyes lit up. “It has been most intriguing. They are, of course, quite attached to their simplified variant of the disciplines, but I believe in time some of them could be persuaded to return to the orthodox methods practiced by most Sadiri.”
I gave him a look. “Mmm-hm. So will your guys come here or will they go to you?”
“They would encourage males from our homesteadings to come here and are willing to send in exchange groups that would be mostly female.”
“Sounds reasonable. Well done,” I congratulated him.
I was a little chagrined, actually. I’d been so cynical about this mission, and here we were, already third-time lucky. It wasn’t storybook perfect—I could tell they’d be debating for generations to come—but at least there was a foundation.
Dr. Daniyel told us at our evening meeting that it was time to wrap up and move on to explore other areas. Dllenahkh, Nasiha, and Tarik reluctantly agreed. When I looked at their faces, I remembered Dllenahkh saying to me that all Sadiri shared a low-level telepathic bond. If that were indeed the case, visiting the marshes of Candirú must have been like being immersed in a constant buzz of subtle connection. I could understand why they would be hesitant
to leave.
Joral didn’t want to leave at all. “I have already identified two potential candidates for betrothal in the five days we have been here. Surely it would be worthwhile for me to remain and gather more anthropological data. This could assist our homesteaders in making an informed choice as to whether they should remove here or no.”
Dr. Daniyel shot a sharp look at Dllenahkh, which he missed because he was already frowning at Joral. I smiled to myself, waiting to hear him tell the young Sadiri to be patient, to remain disciplined, and to focus on the mission.
“Joral, no.”
“But Councillor Dllen—”
“I said no.”
Lian and I looked at each other, ludicrously wide-eyed with shock and amusement. Dr. Daniyel’s lips twitched, but she said nothing.
That was when the commotion started outside: shouting, the thud of running steps on the wood of the boardwalk, a woman’s scream.
Fergus was first out, Lian close behind, but we all scrambled to see what the fuss was about. There was still sunlight at that hour, though the long shadows of the trees and houses darkened the waters. A small fishing boat was drawing up to one of the walkways. The smell that came from it was not the odor of gutted fish but the strong metallic tang of blood. A hand trailed carelessly over the side into the water, and the sickly gray hue that overcast the skin was visible even from where we stood. People gathered around, and the shouts grew louder.
“What’s happening?” said Dr. Daniyel at my ear.
“Their boat was attacked,” I said, listening and translating the fragmented, overlapping speech into a coherent explanation. “There’s another settlement off a tributary upriver, and they’ve quarreled over fishing rights for some time, it seems. I … I think that man’s dead. They’re talking about going to the other settlement for …”
I paused. I couldn’t believe the word I had just heard. I’d heard the words in Sadiri separately but never together, and so it was with a panicked glance at Dllenahkh that I said, “Blood price? Price for blood? Price in blood?”
Dllenahkh gave me a look I could not understand. Sorrow? Shame? But he did not correct me.
“There’s Darithiven,” said Nasiha suddenly.
It was indeed the Chief Councillor of the settlement, and he had to pass us to reach the fishing boat. His gaze flashed across to us, he hesitated, then he appeared to make a decision and came toward us.
“May we be of assistance, Chief Councillor Darithiven?” Dr. Daniyel asked immediately.
He was already shaking his head. “A small matter, a local matter. It is nothing new. We can manage without outside interference.”
I grabbed the hard muscle of Fergus’s arm. A muted glint of edged metal had appeared amid the crowd—and there again, a blade in one hand, a spear in another.
“I see it,” Fergus said gruffly. He exchanged a look with Lian, and I saw them release the catches on their holsters and adjust their pistols to a high but nonlethal setting.
Darithiven saw it too, and his expression was resigned but approving. “You have your own security. That is wise. Now I must leave you. There is much anger here, and it must be appropriately directed. We have had too many incursions into our waters, and it is time to deal with the culprits sternly.”
“There are other, civilized ways of dealing with the matter,” Dllenahkh insisted.
Darithiven looked at him with pity. “Then, by your definition, this cannot be civilization.”
He strode off toward the gathering mob.
Nasiha inhaled sharply and began to whisper to Tarik. Their stance changed from relaxed stillness to defensive tension as they drew closer to each other.
“What is it?” I demanded. Their behavior irritated me. Perhaps it was because they were both spouses and colleagues, but they were such an annoyingly cozy little self-contained unit. My Sadiri, as I had labeled Dllenahkh and Joral in my head, understood the simple courtesy of explaining themselves from time to time.
“They are making themselves angry,” Dllenahkh muttered, profoundly disturbed, as he stared at the growing crowd. “They have lowered mental shields to each other and are projecting and augmenting a desire to fight and kill.”
Suddenly, his head snapped to Joral, who stood stiffly, breathing heavily, his fists clenching spasmodically at his sides. “Joral! Remember your disciplines!”
“It is … difficult, Councillor Dllenahkh,” Joral admitted.
“Stand with Commander Nasiha and Lieutenant Tarik,” Dllenahkh ordered.
Before I could ask him why he didn’t follow his own advice, he started off in the direction of the crowd, saying, “I must stop this.”
“No!” shouted Dr. Daniyel.
To my shock, Dllenahkh ignored her and walked on. I wavered, eyeing her, hoping for permission, however subtly conveyed, to go after him. Instead she did the sensible thing and actually followed our mission protocols. “Lian, Fergus, get everything essential into the punts. We must get ready to leave as soon as possible. Delarua, find Darithiven for me. I have a few things to say to him.”
I noticed that she did not issue orders to Tarik and Nasiha, but she did give them one of her sharp looks. It seemed to break them out of their cocoon because they started to help Lian and Fergus while keeping an eye on Joral. He followed them meekly, still looking shaky.
I dashed off along a path, already knowing where to go. Darithiven was not far away. He stood on the balcony of his residence and surveyed the scene below with an unsettling expression. It was not peace exactly, but … satisfaction? A sense of seeing something come to pass that had been planned for a long time? As I halted halfway up the steps, he looked down his nose at me as if I were something small and unimportant come to bother him. I glared back. I would not allow him to forget that whatever rank he held in his own little patch of marsh, Dr. Daniyel and I represented the government that allowed him to exercise that rank.
“The Commissioner wishes to speak to you,” I growled. “Now.”
Dr. Daniyel was waiting on the central platform. She stood meditatively with arms folded and head slightly bowed. She looked calm and resolute. I knew she was tired.
“Thank you, First Officer Delarua. Please inform Councillor Dllenahkh that we are ready to leave. Lian, go with Delarua.”
As we rushed off, I heard her begin to speak to Darithiven in the slow, disappointed tones of a scolding parent. “As it seems you can no longer guarantee the safety of my team …”
“Where is Dllenahkh?” Lian said, glancing about nervously.
I stared. I couldn’t see him either, and I didn’t relish going into the middle of that loud, surging mass.
“There!” I pointed to the edge of the crowd.
He had stepped up onto a low balcony and was speaking with two of the older men. Their faces were masks of bitter fury, his a study in intense determination, as if he expected to persuade them through sheer force of will. I shouted to him, my voice thin and distant in all the noise, and he did hear me, but he looked at me with a brief, dismissing glance and went back to his argument.
“Damn,” I said.
“Let me,” Lian said grimly.
Long soldier strides took Lian to Dllenahkh’s side in seconds. I followed close behind.
“Come with us, Councillor Dllenahkh. The Commissioner’s orders,” Lian said simply and quietly.
“Not yet, Lian, I must—”
“Not a request, Councillor Dllenahkh,” Lian replied.
It was only when I saw Dllenahkh flinch ever so slightly that I realized Lian had nudged the pistol into his ribs. His lips pressed together, the one angry sign in a face that refused even now to lose control. “I see,” was all he said.
“Let’s go,” I squeaked, agitated by the atmosphere around us, and we walked away briskly, unchallenged and unmolested in the growing maelstrom of anger that was, thankfully, not directed at us.
It felt like a retreat. It was all done according to procedure, but it felt like a retreat. Li
an sent off a preliminary bulletin to the nearest government outpost so that the situation could be monitored by the appropriate authorities. Dr. Daniyel sent a more detailed report the moment we returned to the shuttle. Nasiha, Tarik, and poor Joral were clearly relieved, their condition improving the farther we traveled from the marshes. Fergus was pleased that the bug-out drill he had insisted on had been used so early in the mission and had worked so well. Dllenahkh …
I didn’t dare look at Dllenahkh. When I finally, furtively glanced at him just as the shuttle was taking off, his face was impassive, his demeanor as calm and controlled as ever. I knew he felt my gaze, but he did not meet my eyes.
We flew for a little less than an hour before landing near our next destination, a bit of savanna country farther south. Fergus set out perimeter alarms while we wearily put up our shelters and sought sleep. We did everything right. It still felt like a retreat.
———
When I woke up the next morning, emotion came before memory, so my first coherent thought was to wonder if it was a hangover that had me feeling so miserable. Then I remembered the previous day and felt thoroughly sick. I pulled myself together, freshened up, and went to see if Dr. Daniyel needed me for anything, but Lian said she was still sleeping, so I went away again with a vague idea of checking on Joral. He was sitting in a meditation posture in the doorway of the shelter he shared with Dllenahkh. I hesitated when I saw him, not wanting to disturb him, especially given the mental turmoil he had so recently experienced. I must have trodden too heavily, however, for he opened his eyes and stared at me.
“First Officer Delarua,” he said.
“Joral. Are you well?” I asked formally and in Sadiri.
“I am well,” he replied in a steady voice. Before I could exhale in relief, he continued, “But Councillor Dllenahkh will not get up.”
