‘We have such papers,’ the Brigadier spoke out, ‘but we don’t know your text, not enough to translate into your written language.’
‘If you can speak it, we can scribe,’ the UeShádarn Tal’dorfin spoke. As head of The Archives, she held the highest position for information and books. ‘I can organise a student to place your words to paper and in turn, we can teach you the characters of our language.’ She gave a weary and old smile, but her eyes glinted with enthusiasm.
‘Which is proposed in our offer,’ Hanniver smiled in return. ‘Dendian,’ he replied in the common language, he held the few words and phrases he learnt off Kíe in the highest regard, and the approving smile that Tal’dorfin gave to him filled him with joy, but it soon faded with the thought of Shayne who was talking solely in that language and had a mastery that would take him years to equal.
‘And if there is satisfaction with our offer,’ Shayne brought the conversation back to the original point, ‘will there be a vote to see which nation will host us?’
‘Yes,’ Far’galanmír stated, ‘but, we have gone through the maps you made and we have marked off some regions which are also forbidden.’ Níurthan, the masked human reached for a roll of paper and rolled it out; Líol’flend the Trade Master took a hold of one end so it would not flick back on itself, Níurthan secured his corner by placing a cup upon it.
‘Stand up,’ Dun’karter gestured with his hand; both Shayne and Hanniver approached the main table and looked at the map. The regions they had shown were marked almost precisely from the computer image Shayne had shown them.
Hanniver looked up at Far’galanmír and with half a laugh he said, ‘You remembered exactly where our markers were?’ Hanniver marvelled at the lionmen in the room for a moment.
‘Not me,’ Far’galanmír corrected. ‘It was Níurthan who remembered and placed the points.’ Both Shayne and Hanniver looked at the masked man; Shayne had a sudden feeling of distrust towards him. ‘He has an incredible memory, amongst other skills.’
‘I’d say,’ Hanniver pondered. ‘There were over a hundred points.’
‘173,’ Shayne corrected.
‘Maybe you two can hold a freakish memory tournament,’ Hanniver joked as he leaned against the great table. Dun’karter grinned from ear-to-ear, while both Shayne and Níurthan silently examined each other.
‘I would like to see that,’ the old lionman said.
‘Enough for now,’ Far’galanmír interrupted. ‘The mathematical ability of these Ta’Orians can be debated later; first of all, business. We have tagged the areas you cannot access with black. These areas are non-negotiable.’ Shayne and Hanniver both leaned over the map. The text was unreadable but the landmarks easily distinguished. Many of the areas were predictable, in places the Earthmen would have avoided using in the first place, but there were also ideal areas barred from them, including the only large forest region in the west and much of the region surrounding it. Hanniver sighed as he looked upon the map; they had hoped to settle near that forest. It gave off odd readings, from both the Pathfinder scoutship and the colonyships and had very few inhabitants. Many wanted to investigate its strangeness.
‘This is Endaran?’ Shayne asked, pointing towards the same forest the Brigadier was just pondering.
‘It is,’ Níurthan nodded, even these few words rang out of his throat like a song.
‘What is it exactly?’ Hanniver asked in English.
‘Their holy land,’ Shayne glanced over it, there were dots representing major cities all over the map, though Endaran only had two and one of those was white, not black.
‘All the ideal places seem to be in all the wrong places,’ he mused.
‘We’re fortunate that ideals are not our only option.’ He then returned back into the common language. ‘Why is this area black?’ he pointed to the north eastern regions.
‘That is where the Black Ash Mountains rise. The great peaks often throw out rock and fire, and the wind sometimes moves in that direction. No cities there, very few people; only nomads and travellers. It is good fertile lands for beasts when the mountains are not angry, but no good place to live.’ Shayne looked over the other colours.
‘What about the red ones?’ the red pins covered many areas, generally near the black or in the southern areas.
‘They are places you can settle in but we would recommend against.’
‘These are the lands where war and disputes are common?’ Shayne pointed to three separate places in the south. Two in the south east and one place in the south west, just under the Wayel-Éaa forest. Far’galanmír sighed, an expression passed over her face that revealed a tired diplomat.
‘We cannot stop you, but we would recommend against such placement, we ask of you to not go there.’
‘Because of the instability?’ Shayne asked but did not expect a reply; he looked over them for a moment. ‘They hold themselves differently from the northern nations?’
‘They have different laws,’ Kal’adfin, the male lionman Foreign advisor confirmed. ‘Though we have changed some of their more disturbing customs over the years, others are harder to cultivate. Just as we cannot tell you where you can settle in free lands, we cannot tell them how to rule their peoples. We can only offer advice and hope one sees the wisdom behind it.’
‘What if you came upon another people who had wisdom greater than your own?’
‘Then we would adopt that wisdom instead, if it is superior.’
‘As simple as that?’ Shayne mused.
‘Nothing is simple. If that was so there would be no red upon the map,’ Níurthan rationalised. The makings that remained were either green or blue. Blue covered most of the points, with green in fewer places and centralised around Kérith-Árim; spread out amongst the middle kingdoms of East Dífrun.
‘These are places you are happy for and these are the ones you would like us to consider above all others?’ Shayne went first from the common blue and then the uncommon green. Far’galanmír nodded.
‘Why so close to your nation?’ Hanniver asked
‘These are placed in Fa’Orian dominated nations,’ Far’galanmír added. ‘We believe it would be safe if all interceding would be done through the most peaceful nations, which are the Ta’Orian lands of Isradia and Na’Andaníde, and all the Fa’Orian nations of the middle kingdoms.’ This slightly irritated the Brigadier. He directed himself to the human members of the board, which only counted to two: The Trade Master and The Order monk who watched them behind a metal mask.
‘They’re saying that humans are more warlike than lionmen! Doesn’t this contradict your presence here?’ he directed his question to both the humans.
‘Events, history, facts, these are but the passage of time that defines the world, and a people,’ Níurthan carefully worded. ‘Observation of the world reveals much, and what has been revealed is that as an individual the Ta’Orian is good, the Fa’Orian is primal and the Afradian is indifferent,’ he paused for a moment, revealing that he recited from memory. The lionman religious representative was nodding in agreement as he spoke. ‘But with time and as a collective: the Ta’Orian will always corrupt, the Fa’Orian will always govern in truth and the Afradian will always pursue knowledge.’
‘All people can be war like,’ Líol’flend the Trade Master reasoned. ‘We accept the nature of our peoples; their strengths and weaknesses. For you to state that we as Ta’Orian’s are violent and evil compared to Fa’Orian and Afradian is false.’
‘But that is what you have been saying,’ Hanniver pointed out.
‘We have said that Ta’Orian is more likely to march to war. We did not say that they are, that I am, an evil that needs to be controlled,’ the human Trade Master spoke with an almost indifference, his appearance looked to be the stereotypical for human greed, but his demeanour and honour far surpassed his physical appearance. ‘Our history is full of wars, and not all Ta’Orian either, in fact most were Afradian. When a Fa’Orian goes to war oren never ente
rs half-prepaid and they only returns when oren has won. If the opposing side refuses and looks to never relinquish their position or belief then the Fa’Orian will wipe them out to every last being: man, woman or child. Not one will stand if he can help it. And as for Afradian, have you heard to the Wayel-Éaa Tragedy?’ he paused for a second to see any hint of recognition from the Earthman. Shayne did not know much about the forest other than the legend of a battle and a few songs, Kíe never clarified further than that.
‘The slaughter is what it was,’ the small human continued, ‘because it was not a war. All who could fight were gone and all but a handful of the Markeeian House of Afradians left behind were wiped out that night. The returning warriors of the house found their wives, husbands and children’s bodies hanging from the trees. The Markeeians themselves left for a bloody crusade of revenge. That was the downfall of Marakite and his kin and just like the Fa’Orian they too wiped out every last Afradian enemy from the accursed mongrel house, even as they fell they continued on. Pressing ever further and ever onwards, never stopping, like the Fa’Orian they would march until either they or their enemies were gone, and in doing so they nearly wiped themselves out. They were no longer a house when they returned from war; they were but a few refugees that would not return to their forest home.’
‘The point,’ Níurthan broke in, the slightest hint of annoyance in his voice, ‘we do not know what occurs in another’s mind, who can know what happens behind high walls and closed doors?’
‘You mean,’ Shayne mused, ‘like what is going on behind these closed doors?’
Hanniver smiled at Shayne’s observation, ‘After all, our discussion of possible points of re-settlement is supposed to incorporate all of the countries within the region.’
‘I am not one for mind games Hama Ta’Orian!’ Far’galanmír warned, her face stern as she stared down Hanniver.
‘Now dear,’ Dun’karter gently placed his hand on her arm, causing her to look at the elderly lionman in a moment of shock. ‘We are here to educate and explain about the differences and threats that present our region, and this is what we are doing.’
The hours crept by as the nations were discussed: from the ugly feuding tribes and nations to the more ordinary and mundane matters of everyday life and culture of other countries. Eventually the Brigadier and Shayne could no longer focus on anything other than their empty stomachs.
‘I think the Hama Ta’Orian’s are hungry,’ Níurthan suddenly stopped the meeting. Everyone looked up at the two tired Earthman.
‘I know I am,’ Líol’flend commented, patting his stomach and also looking fatigued.
Far’galanmír looked upon the weary humans, when inactive a Fa’Orian eats little, they can live happily off one decent meal a day so long as they were not exerting themselves, she nodded. ‘Good, then I suggest we retire for the day. It will be a week before all the diplomats and foreign leaders assemble in Karmoníth, we can organise and discuss as we move along.’
‘I will host the Afra’hama,’ Dun’karter smiled broadly, his usual faraway expression giving way to a mysterious look.
‘I think he should see the temple first, don’t you?’ the female priest, Tellin’marda spoke for the first time. She sat at both meetings without saying a single word, the sound of her voice was strange in the room, as if someone unexpected had walked in and no one had noticed.
‘The teaching halls are a part of the faith,’ Dun’karter challenged. ‘If not equal then they are more, for they hold the law of the faith and birthed the wizards of old.’
‘The temple is where we remember,’ Tellin’marda argued. ‘The exchange of knowledge will not be hampered, the teaching will continue and the songs will still sound.’
‘The temple would be a good place to start for the Afra’hama,’ Far’galandmír ended the debate, ‘but they also have business with the scholars which we should not delay beyond what is necessary.’ she enforced, before she picked up some papers off the desk; organising them to leave. Everyone then rose and formally bowed before leaving. Far’galamír first, followed by the others in order of their stewardship.
Chapter 08
Player
“Not everything that steps out of line, and thus ‘abnormal,’ must necessarily be ‘inferior.’”
- Hans Asperger
Upon one of the secondary viewing rooms of the Oxford spaceship stood its captain; no longer in uniform, that was a formality used only when in the presence of Planetsiders. The only object denoting her as the ship’s captain was the rank insignia fastened to her collar. Astronauts did not care for uniforms and parade drills. They were not even a military vessel; technically there was no such thing as a space military; but the Planetsiders expected some ships to behave in a military fashion so they adopted the formality when dealing with them.
She stood watching the world beneath her. Her ship was the designated relay link between the planet below and the other two ships which were currently constructing the grand Gateway in the fifth Lagrange Point. Her ships post was not really required as the moon was always visible down below, but the Oxford was more than just a communication relay between construction sites; its engineering crew were also building the platform for the Space Elevator and station. The colonisation team only brought limited resources with them, enough to build the planet-side colony, Gateway, and the basic infrastructure of the space lift. The system was self-sufficient up to a point, with the worst case scenario allowing them to have enough material to create a fully functioning Gateway.
‘What was the Pathfinder thinking?’ she asked herself. The lights of the Oxford’s consciousness grew as she spoke, a silent question that need not be spoken to the two old friends. She folded her hands behind her back, sinking into deep thought.
‘The Pathfinder saw hope in the world,’ the computer eventually and softly spoke, stirring Arnahell from her dark contemplation.
‘But what about the world, what about the lionmen?’ She looked down at the small tiny green region that made up Dífran. It amused her that the centre of civilisation rested in such a tiny spot dwarfed by the great desert continent, wrapping around it. It reminded her of the ancient centres of Earth: of old Britannia and Roman Empires, tiny yet their power was vast.
‘They will survive.’
‘That’s not what worries me,’ she gently spoke as she contemplated everything. ‘They will be turned into entertainment for the Planetsiders; like the old indigenous people of Earth and the natives of Mir, and any other slightly interesting people who scatter the worlds. It’s disgusting and it’s degrading.’
‘The Lionmen will see it for what it is, I doubt they will parade in front of anyone for any reason other than what they would normally do.’
‘Still, we should never have come here.’ Her gaze blurred as she returned to her own thoughts, remembering her time with the half Starborn.
***
‘Hey Trim, would you like to visit the park?’ The cat looked up at her owner; his eyes suddenly wide with a primal wildness that felines sometimes expressed. Arnahell softly smiled, she picked the cat up and placed him on her shoulder. Shayne remained seated at the table, his study tablet before him. ‘Come on, if you’re to be one of us then you should see how we live.’ He hesitated slightly before rising to follow her out of her quarters.
They passed through several corridors that looked exactly the same; the only differences were in coloured stripes scattered down the halls and passageways; denoting deck and location. Shayne’s lack of understanding with the corridor markers disoriented him and defeated his attempt to track where he was in the ship. They passed several working androids and a fair few Astronauts who greeted Shayne and the captain with faint smiles and nods. Finally, they came to a lift; it was large inside and brightly lit and they rode it down several sections before it let them out in a great open area within the belly of the ship. The floor they stood upon hummed softly with the graviton generator and their weight seemed slightly greate
r due to their proximity. Shayne looked around in mild wonder; they had entered an enormous open area. The length faded into the distance, while its width curved around the centre. Gardens of all kinds filled this great space creating an extremely odd artificial habitat. The scale of such a thing inside a ship awed him; he knew all great space colonies had gardens but he did not comprehend the scale of them.
The captain and Shayne began to walk through the park. The sky was a simulated Earth scene with a sun to provide light. The energy required was syphoned from many sources, but most of it was self-sufficient with excess heat converted into energy for the garden. Everything looked so natural except for the fact they stood in a great tubular room, with the sun arching above and the plants following a gentle curve. The gardens changed in style along the length, cultivated to simulate select environments. Shayne and the captain stood in an open grassy park, deciduous trees were beginning to lose their leaves in a false autumn environment; determined by the passage of the sun relative to their position in the tube-world-gardens. While their end experienced autumn the other side was in spring with a tropical space in-between.
People and free droids wandered around with their own purpose; two children playing tiggy ran passed them laughing while others played a ball game in one of the open spaces. It never occurred to Shayne the extent of an Astronaut’s life on a colonyship. It was not just a means to transport Planetsiders from an old world to a new one; it was in itself a colony. The two worlds were separated, the bare necessities were laid out for Planetsiders who at most spent a few months awake on the ship, but generations of Astronauts lived, breathed and died in the world around them.
They stopped under an old maple tree that was probably older than himself, planted in the ship; never knowing the soil of a real planet or the light from a real sun. Trim though old and stiff with age began to play with a crusted dead leaf; enjoying its simple pleasure. Arnahell watched the cat for a while, her eyes faded as her mind wandered.
The Book of Ominiue: Starborn Page 25
