From above, the benign sun of Hivehom shone down on their friendship, on the little garden in the diplomat compound, on the rest of the human settlement called Azerick, and on the dawning of a great many unknown but exhilarating possibilities that were fraught with promise.
22
Lord Naasab IV was brooding in the gallery when Eiipul II approached him. Below, the magnificent Great Hall of the People, the center of Blassussar and the locus of the Empire, was clearing out, the crowd of notables apportioning a babble of hissing conversation in their wake. The emperor himself had long since departed, leaving his constituents in the form of their representative nobles to debate and discuss any remaining business. It was the business that was not resolved, that could not be resolved, that troubled Naasab and left him pensive and ill at ease in mind and belly.
A gesture of greeting from Eiipul indicated that his fellow peer felt similarly. As if to further confirm his visitor's mind-set, one pair of eyelids remained half closed as he spoke.
"I fear, rssst , that regarding a certain matter too many of our colleaguess refusse to pull their headss out of the ssand."
Naasab was glad to see that, if nothing else, he was not alone in his concern. "We sspeak of the ssame certain matter, I am ssure."
Eiipul gestured second-degree concurrence. "Many feel there iss nothing more we can do, yet we cannot jusst ssprawl idly asside and concede to the inexorable. My family did not reach itss pinnacle of prominence by ssquatting alongsside the water hollowss and watching otherss catch the swimmerss."
His counterpart gestured almost impertinently. Eiipul forgave the discourtesy because he understood Naasab's distress. It was no less than his own.
"Let the otherss vacillate and fight with wordss if that iss all they can do. The emperor iss no fool. If we can proposse a coursse of action, he will ssee that it iss implemented. What ideass have you?"
Eiipul slapped his stomach with the tip of his tail, a sharp, smacking sound that did not travel far in the enormous, gold-toned gathering chamber. "Nothing sspecific,gtssk . As you know, I am on the committee that iss trying to undersstand what happened on Vussissica. We have yet to ressolve the many contradicting reportss. Thuss far the one point that everyone can agree upon iss that it hass been a complete and utter diplomatic dissaster. Chasstissement sshould already have been meted out, but no one can agree on who iss ressponssible for what. In every asspect, a truly unssettling epissode."
Naasab gestured agreement, rapidly blinking both sets of double eyelids. "My concern liess more with our notable failure on the disstant human world they call Dawn. A continuing run of bad luck. If not for the intervention of the two sstupid sspiritualisstss, all might have gone as planned. Now, that enterprisse alsso liess in ruinss." In his anger, he parted his jaws to show his tongue as well as all his teeth. "The combined effect of thesse two recent dissasters hass been to bring the bugss and the ssoftsskinss much closser together insstead of driving them apart, as we dessired."
Moving to the edge of the overlook, Eiipul gazed down at the now nearly empty gathering chamber. Glorious episodes from the history of the AAnn - from the race's humble beginnings as barely organized bands fighting for control of herds in the plains of Blassussar, to the wars of unification eventually won by Keisscha the First, to the rapid rise of technology and the eventual expansion of the Empire to other worlds - lined the walls in the form of mosaics fashioned from gemstones and rare metals. Strong light illuminated every corner of the impressive hall, and the sand that formed the floor was fashioned of specially ground synthetic corundum that gave it the appearance of a single multifaceted jewel. The dais where the emperor sat was as empty as the rows of individual reporting stations, and no informative holos floated free in the dry, heated air.
"Doess a closser union of the two lesser sspeciess really pose ssuch a threat? Are we perhapss not overreacting, my friend, and thosse of our compeerss who have jusst departed are the oness in the right?"
Naasab gestured his unhappiness. Was he about to lose his strongest ally among the members of the Imperial Gathering? "No one sshould forget what happened to the Pitar."
"That sspeciess received what they desserved. I wass never comfortable conssidering them as alliess. An unsstable race."
"Agreed. And now they are no more - thankss to the effortss of humanss and thranx fighting together. My greatesst fear, my friend, iss that thesse two sspeciess cojoined may ressult in ssomething far more powerful than the ssum of their individual partss."
"I, too, am concerned, as you know. But it may be that this propossed union of theirss, thiss Commonwealth, will be like a human mating: the living together more contentiouss than the courtsship."
Naasab gestured admiration for his counterpart's knowledge. He would not have suspected that the quiet Eiipul might be the master of arcane alien erudition. It was often the quiet ones, he reflected, who hid in the sand to spring on the unwary from behind. Henceforth, he would measure his comments with more care lest he reveal something that in the future might prove personally damaging. Eiipul would do no less, he knew. By such means did the ever-competitive AAnn acquire status and gain advancement. For the moment, however, the truce relationship between them was sound. As lords of the Empire, they could advance no farther - at least until the emperor began to show signs of mental or physical weakness.
"What of our dissappointing ssupporterss among the humanss?" Eiipul was asking.
Naasab hissed resignedly. "Many dead or captured on thiss Dawn world. Not all, I am told, but enough to prevent them from attempting anything ssimilar in the immediate future. I have taken sstepss to ssee to it that their organization continuess to receive the necessary funds to susstain them. They will go to ground until the furor over the incident on Dawn hass died down, then attempt to ressume their activitiess on our behalf. As for their thranx equivalentss, you know that we have no influence among them. No bug will accept assistance from an AAnn. That doess not mean they will not be usseful to uss in the future; only that we will, as alwayss, have no control over their actions."
Eiipul gestured understanding. Though he had much work to do, he continued to linger. Naasab always had interesting information to impart, and it was always good to know what so resourceful a rival was up to. Besides which, they shared many similar interests.
"If thiss union comess about, we will ssimply have to deal with it. It doess not pressage the end of our expanssion. Nothing can prevent that."
"Truly," Naasab agreed, adding a gesture of first-degree assent. "But it could make eassy thingss difficult, and ssimple undertakingss complex. Better to avoid complication where possible. It certainly would make harder bringing the obsstinate bugss to heel."
"You will ssee." Eiipul wished to depart on a positive note. "The bugss and the humanss will not get along. They are too different, far more sso than the humanss and oursselvess. Even if it should come to pass, this Commonwealth will collapsse of itss own inherent contradictionss. I am confident in that."
Wellness for you, Naasab thought. He wondered if he would live long enough to see Eiipul's prediction come to pass. He hoped so, because he sincerely feared the consequences for the Empire if it did not.
Truly, fsssst . . .
There was so much to do. Integrating colonies was one thing. Merging two entirely different political and social systems developed over thousands of years by two very different species reduced the complexities of the former task to insignificance.
Ordinary folk on both sides would notice no change for some time. Average citizens did not travel between worlds, did not participate in interstellar commerce or politics, and cared little for anything beyond the realm of their daily lives that did not impact on them directly. Politicians would be affected, and business folk, and of course the military. The latter would have perhaps the easiest time of it. Not only did warriors of different species possess an innate understanding of a profession whose basic tenets did not vary widely because of mere shape, but they had al
ready cooperated closely with one another during the Pitarian War.
Changes would first manifest themselves in the largest, most cosmicpolitan cities. Humans would be able to move freely through the teeming thranx burrows, while their eight-limbed counterparts would no longer be restricted to a few specific locations on Earth and a couple of its more populous colonies. Without endless inspections and dozens of restrictions, trade would expand exponentially. Cultural exchanges of the kind that had taken place on the world of Dawn could proceed without reams of government paperwork, on scales both larger and more intimate. Integration did not happen overnight, but happen it would.
The announcement of the impending unification was greeted, except by those who had opposed it for so long, with a mixture of excitement, anticipation, and uncertainty. Since nothing like it had ever been tried before, no one was quite sure how it was going to work, or what would happen from day to day. But both sides went at it with a will.
The Terran government proceeded to orchestrate a number of grandiose celebrations, with the largest taking place in or near the most impressive cities; more modest festivities were contrived for smaller conurbations, and local demonstrations occupied the time and attention of towns and country. Among the thranx, the occasion was marked by congratulations on a much more individual and personal level, following which everyone went back to work. Above it all hovered a feeling of general satisfaction: The thranx had gotten what they wanted, and the humans what they needed.
After weeks of speeches, parades, demonstrations, fireworks, feasts, gatherings in stellar locations both astonishing and ordinary by the starships of both civilizations, hours of reciprocal programming by the media of both species, endlessly repetitive programs of the Why This Is Good For You kind, debates both tumultuous and politic, and a good deal of soul-searching among ordinary citizens, the public at large of both species discovered something else they had in common: the ability to rapidly get fed up with self-appointed experts and so-called specialists and zealous politicians who were determined to tell them what they should be doing and why. So when the time arrived to actually formalize the unification instead of simply praise or weigh it, the actual event came as something of a blissful anticlimax that was ignored by most folk, who were busy getting on with their lives.
The site chosen for the signing of the Articles of Amalgamation was as grand as the canyon after which it was named. Not far from the small amphitheater chosen for the official ceremony, moving walkways suspended from spidery supports carried a steady stream of tourists from the rim and its spectacular perspective to the surging, ice-cold river at the bottom. Most were intent on the scenery and took no notice of the cluster of diplomats and media reporters milling about nearby. A few thranx, Fanielle noted with satisfaction, were among the continuous stream of gawkers descending into the ancient depths carved by the river. In the heat of midafternoon they needed no supplemental attire, though each wore a compact humidifier over their breathing spicules. Of such incremental developments as mutual enjoyment of time's wonders were unbreakable bonds forged.
Stuck near the back of the gathering, but fortunate to have acquired an invitation at that, she listened with interest to the speeches whose brevity belied their significance. One by one, the various human and thranx dignitaries mounted the temporary dais, their physiques if not their words much reduced in perspective by the immense red rock panorama that filled the horizon behind them. The ritual could as well have taken place on Hivehom, she knew, or some neutral world, but the thranx had deferred to the wishes of their new human consociates. Though equally as fond of pomp and ritual as the bipeds, albeit on a much reduced scale, they were understanding when their mammalian counterparts asked if the first signing could be held on Earth. A second, equivalent ceremony would take place later in the high ceremonial burrows of Hivehom.
That kind of understanding, she reflected, was not only what was going to go a long way toward making the new union work, it was something the pysch techs insisted humankind had lacked, and had been looking for, ever since the species had first come down from the trees millennia ago.
Eventually the speech making, with its simultaneous translation, lurched to an end. Formal documents were signed, and initialed, and signed again, until there was no more room on paper or plastic for markings of the duly appointed representatives of either species. As each was completed, holos of the actual documents appeared in the air before the audience. These were broadcast to watchers whose distance from the site could sometimes be measured in kilometers and sometimes in parsecs. As each instrument was completed, it was simultaneously rendered in blocks of polished marble and sheets of anodized titanium that would more readily memorialize the gravity of the occasion.
When it was over, there was much gratified shaking of hands and touching of antennae. Fanielle was particularly struck by the moment when the current head of the United Church, the Fourth Last Resort David Malkezinski, grasped a truhand of the venerable Tri-eint Arlenduva while her antennae dipped forward to make contact with his forehead. Far from vanishing as she had once imagined it would, the still-evolving creed founded by a human minister and his thranx counterpart had continued to expand, swiftly gaining new adherents among human and thranx alike. If anything, its overall influence with the public at large had expanded even faster.
Counted among its followers was the diplomat Fanielle Anjou, recently promoted to assistant councilor for human affairs on Hivehom. It was about as significant a post as there was to be had in the rapidly reorganizing and consolidating governments.
As she stood chatting with friends and associates, doing her best to avoid the media, a small hand tugged at her arm. Eric Haf-Lyr Anjou looked up at her out of alert, anxious eyes that were largely indifferent to the import of the ceremony that had just concluded.
"Mom, Mom - Barehtezen and Jacque want to hike down to Indian Gardens. Can I go? Can I? Hey, did you know she smells like apple blossoms?"
She smiled down at him. "Of course you can go, Eric. Just make sure you and Jacque keep a close eye on Bar. There are plenty of fountains along the trail, and she'll adore the fact that it gets hotter the deeper you descend, but you know how quickly thranx can parch in this climate." She indicated the high, dry mountain country where they were standing.
"Aw, she'll be all right. She's wearing her humidifier, and she promised to use all six legs at all times, even on the easy parts."
"Make sure she keeps hydrated. Have a good time, and be back up here before six." She checked her chronometer. "We have to get up early tomorrow to catch the transit to the shuttleport."
He nodded, his words lost in the crowd as he yelled back at her while racing off in the opposite direction. "I know. I can't wait to get back to the burrow!"
Kids, she thought. Progeny. Offspring, with the emphasis on spring . Waking up to a new universe every day. Only tomorrow, it would be more than an aphorism. It would be for real. She wondered how it would all work out: the amalgamating of two radically different species, an unprecedented fusion of arthropod and anthropoid. Nothing like it had ever been attempted in the portion of the galaxy humankind had come to know. Just how close, how intimate could it become? Would the old adage "Don't let the bedbugs bite" come to take on an entirely new meaning? Or would it lead to, if not a golden age for humankind, at least a more settled and confident one?
She was wandering, she knew, and when she let her mind wander, her thoughts inevitably degenerated into flippancy. She wished she could live another couple of hundred years or so, long enough for any lasting doubts to be resolved. That was not possible. She let out a regretful sigh. We're too transitory, she mused. We don't live long enough to really learn anything. I need another five centuries.
It was not to be. Flesh is not so accommodating, and we all of us die just when we've acquired the minimum necessary wisdom to graduate the first grade. The universe belonged to her son now. To him, and to his new friends, even if they did have two extra sets of limbs,
bulging eyes, and feathery stalks growing out of their foreheads.
To the universe of the Commonwealth.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Alan Dean Foster has written in a variety of genres, including hard science fiction, fantasy, horror, detective, western, historical, and contemporary fiction. He is also the author of numerous nonfiction articles on film, science, and scuba diving, as well as novel versions of several films, includingStar Wars , the first threeAlien films, andAlien Nation . His novelCyber Way won the Southwest Book Award for Fiction in 1990, the first science fiction work ever to do so.
Foster's love of the far-away and exotic has led him to travel extensively. He's lived in Tahiti and French Polynesia, traveled to Europe, Asia, and throughout the Pacific, and has explored the back roads of Tanzania and Kenya. He has rappelled into New Mexico's fabled Lechugilla Cave, panfried piranha (lots of bones, tastes a lot like trout) in Peru, white-water rafted the length of the Zambezi's Batoka Gorge, and driven solo the length and breadth of Namibia.
Foster and his wife, JoAnn Oxley, reside in Prescott, Arizona, in a house built of brick that was salvaged from a turn-of-the-century miners' brothel. He is presently at work on several new novels and media projects. For further information on the Commonwealth and other worlds of Alan Dean Foster, try this Web site: href="http://www.alandeanfoster.com/">www.alandeanfoster.com .
BY ALAN DEAN FOSTER
Published by The Ballantine Publishing Group
The Black Hole
Cachalot
Dark Star
The Metrognome and Other Stories
Midworld
Nor Crystal Tears
Sentenced to Prism
Splinter of the Mind's Eye
Star Trekreg;Logs One#8211;Ten
Voyage to the City of the Dead
. . . Who Needs Enemies?
With Friends Like These . . .
Mad Amos
Diuturnity's Dawn Page 33
