Upon my emanation, I’m faced with these sometimes conflicting trains of thought:
- It is so good to be near Tara again.
- Utter relief at being back in the Domha’vei, away from empty Tucana and the tragically repugnant Denolin.
- In order to establish a situation where humanity, the Cu’endhari and Tara are secure, we are most definitely going to have to revisit Tucana, perhaps for an extended period of time.
- Lorcan has become a problem. In a sense, this is not surprising. Lorcan has always been a problem. However, the type and magnitude of the problem have changed, leading to much internal distraction, for example, the following discussion.
I don’t like this love-fest, says Cillian. Lorcan has always been trouble.
The situation has changed markedly, says Dermot. Some kind of internal assimilation is taking place.
It’s essential that we accept this, says Tarlach. There are greater tasks ahead, such as integrating the new emanations from Yggdrasil. I don’t even think we’ve completely integrated all of the Goliath emanations yet. Some of them, like Seth and Ari, have become mainstays of the community. Others…
Let’s be honest, says Ethan. I feel like Barnabas and I just got thrown on the table because Owen and Lugh were having problems. Now that they’ve resolved all that, I don’t know exactly what I’m supposed to be doing.
A fucking Cu’enashti identity crisis, says Cillian, slapping his forehead.
You’re supposed to love Tara, says Whirljack. That’s all there is to it.
Don’t be so dismissive, says Tarlach. It isn’t that simple. Each of us has an essential place. That being said, we’ve seen that nothing is ever wasted. The functions of emanations change. They grow, becoming unique and precious individuals.
You could’ve left off that last sentence, says Cillian. I was agreeing with you, but now I’m gonna puke.
This conversation isn’t the problem. The problem is the thing in the background that I’m trying not to notice: Lorcan crying miserably as Jamey and Ross try to console him. Beat is there; no one seems to notice that he is also distraught because he knows exactly what Lorcan is feeling. Seth is standing in the background, not really knowing what to do. His intentions are good, but he lacks common sense. Callum is crouching on the floor, glowering at Cillian. He might just attack. Normally quiet and submissive, Callum is capable of hell’s own fury when pushed.
When a branch finally twigs, it’s no laughing matter.
I’ve deliberately avoided taking sides in this. I understand Cillian’s reticence. Lorcan’s initial purpose was as a test to destruction, to see if I and I was capable of harming Tara. Since then, he’s been nothing but a burden, souring all discussions with his bitterness. However, it does seem that redemption is in the air. It would be nice to keep the peace during the process.
I have other concerns. For a number of reasons, we had decided to insist that the Combine reconvene on Eirelantra. The SongLuminants were annoyed, of course. They don’t like being told to do anything.
This will be a delicate negotiation. Technically, Lucius is supposed to be the nuncio to the Combine, but it is thought that I will make a more impressive appearance. Patrick had been briefly considered, but diplomacy is probably not what is needed in this case. What is needed is intimidation and strategy, a strategy informed by the vision apparent to Lens, a vision rapidly becoming clearer as we drew closer to its occurrence.
I have a short discussion with Neliit before the meeting. She has some insights as to how the SongLuminants might react to the situation, based on history. We formulate a plan.
Then I have to see Rivers. Evictium is a nasty business. Prior to its development, there had been similar weapons with the ability to attack organic lifeforms without harming material goods. They generally involved radioactive particles with a short half-life. The problem with radioactivity is that as long as it is present, it is dangerous to everyone, including the side which employed it, and when it fades, it ceases to do damage. Evictium bonds with the DNA. Exposed to oxygen, it decays within fifteen minutes. For those unfortunates who have breathed it within that span, it insidiously begins to alter biological processes in a countless number of random fashions. Treating the symptoms doesn’t work; the problem is a blueprint gone bad. The only way to deal with it is the use of nanobots to repair the DNA. Full exposure can sometimes cause death within a week, depending.
Clive was lucky, if it could be called that. His exposure had been limited, and much of the damage had caused harmless mutations. Which wasn’t to say it was good. It wasn’t good at all.
“Normally, when I’m healing a disease, the issue is to find the root cause and fix it. To my eyes, the root cause is usually pretty apparent. Something like heart disease is easy – clear the arteries, rebuild the muscle. A genetic disorder takes more precision. I have to isolate the aberration and repair it, which means fixing the DNA in every cell where the problem is replicated – potentially trillions of tiny adjustments. The problem here is that the damage is random and inconsistent. Each chromosome has to be examined and repaired – which is why the nanobots are more efficient. I don’t know exactly which alterations are causing the breakdown in body processes.”
“Can you do it or can’t you?” snaps Rivers, annoyed. “If you can’t, leave me to die in peace.”
“In theory, I can, but it will take a while, and I’m unable to prioritize the critical elements because I don’t know what they are. I’ll end up spending precious time repairing damage which isn’t causing any harm. What I can do today is repair the symptomatic damage, like the regens are doing, but more effectively. You’ll see a marked improvement in your health, but the breakdown will begin again.”
I think it best not to remark that if our gambit in the Combine succeeds, we will be returning to Tucana almost immediately. The sooner Davy’s plan can be put into effect, the sooner the Hreck will be out of danger. I suppose the question is whether I will prioritize the life of hundreds of innocent, well-meaning Hreck, or my wife’s cantankerous ex-lover, who has only himself to blame for his miserable condition?
I don’t really have to answer that, do I?
Then again, Rivers falls under Driscoll’s promise, and it won’t do to break my word. As long as the aristos believe that I will grant them immortality, they will be solidly loyal to Tara.
*****
Tara accompanies me to the High Council Chamber. She is in full ceremonial dress with bustle skirts and an enormous headdress, and she is carrying the Staff of the Matriarch. The aim is to impress. Lord Danak had also suggested that she wear one of the powdered wigs that are coming back into fashion, but she stared at him with such venom that he backed down immediately.
We are joined by Neliit and one of the Hreck. He is surprised to learn that I am yet another emanation of Ashtara. I ask him for his name.
“Newberg,” he says through his voice synthesizer.
“No, I mean your original name.”
His feelers twitch. “My designator was B-7463823-lkj.”
“That isn’t what I meant, either. What name do your people call you?”
“When we are selected to serve by the SongLuminants, we abandon our larval names. It would be insulting for you to use it. I prefer Newberg.”
Ah, this is awkward, but I can hardly send the poor little fellow into the Combine to become a laughing-stock. “You do understand that the term Newberg designates a foodstuff made from crustaceans?”
“The designator Newberg was assigned personally by the Advanced Sentient Lorcan, and thus takes precedent over the designator assigned to me during the automated selection process. I bear it proudly. I am Newberg of the Hreck.”
I reconsider. Since the Hreck are lacking a sense of humor, they probably also lack the concept of mockery. Perhaps it’s best to leave well enough alone.
We had intended to wait for the Combine members and greet them on our own terms, but Marty is already in the council chamber when we arrive. We are soon joined by Thoughtful 45 and the eternally sullen Lilith. Matek Lopen and Poklok-kinniped arrive together, as usual. Despite the fact that there could be no attraction between them – Poklok’s people have no gender, and Matek Lopen would find Poklok indigestible – the two always behave very much like an old married couple. Surprisingly, they and the school of Floatfish arrive before the Southern Coriolis Directorate. SCD would, of course, borrow Ambassador Bllllllllllllllllllllrrrrrrrrrrrmm again; therefore, arriving late is a show of protest.
Bllllllllllllllllllllrrrrrrrrrrrmm/SCD comes in with the ELFF. At the sight of Neliit, the ELFF floats into a series of joyous midair pirouettes punctuated by the emission of a rainbow mist from her fingertips. The air fills with delightful smells: roses, baked apple pie, the bracing plastic of a new hovercar.
Bllllllllllllllllllllrrrrrrrrrrrmm/SCD also has an excited reaction, flapping his fins rapidly. “This is unexpected. Unexpected! The Southern Coriolis Directorate isn’t authorized to deal with such a remarkable situation. We’re going to need to…”
Suddenly Hrrrrrrrrrrrgh stiffens, his bulging eyes fixing on something in the distance. “I am representing the Panoply of the Ancient Foam, the supreme governing body of Sealeesh,” he announces. “We extend greetings to the representative of the most esteemed Eer-gaaani.” It might be my imagination, but the SongLuminant seems awed. It is the first time we’d ever seen them react to anything without irony or arrogance.
I can feel Tara’s rising anger. I knew exactly what she is thinking: it is incredibly rude of the SongLuminants to commandeer the fish’s body without asking permission. The Combine is in sore need of a code of etiquette between species that extends beyond “SongLuminants do as they please.”
Neliit bows. “I am Neliit, empowered to act as negotiator for the Eer-gaaani in this matter. It seems that the Nau’gsh Ashtara has inadvertently stumbled upon our nature preserve.”
“Nature preserve,” repeats Hrrrrrrrrrrrgh/PAF, half-closing his second eyelid.
“Yes, an isolated galaxy that we had set up as a means of conserving the Denolin Turym.”
The fish closes his eyes. His dorsal fin twitches slightly as he telepathically confers with his fellows on Sealeesh. “The Great Dread were to be erased,” he says finally. “We all agreed.”
“No one agreed,” contests Neliit. “We left; you bullied the ELFFs into it.”
“ELFFs?”
“Oh dear,” says Thoughtful 45. Lilith snickers.
“In any case, Ashtara has devised a solution to the Denolin Turym issue. His emanation Davy has created a new strain of nau’gsh which will be truly symbiotic with the Denolin. These trees will continually produce new emanations for the purpose of Denolin consumption.”
High Chancellor Matek Lopen *click* Bar Treven *click* Sanis Poltra *clickclick* snaps her mandibles excitedly.
“Wow, Dad, that’s really fucked up,” says Lilith. “But why would we want to do that?”
“The Denolin Turym aren’t looking for food,” I reply. “They evolve by absorbing the consciousness of other sentients. Since they can’t absorb the true self of a Cu’enashti, no irreparable harm is done by consuming the emanation. There is, of course, the question of compatibility. Davy tells me that seedlings raised among the Denolin would develop a psychology suitable for pairing with them, just as the Cu’enashti evolved to mate with humans.” And Davy had better be right, because Lorcan has been weeping for three days.
“You’re saying that they’re going to use giant centipedes with tentacles as their Chosen?” Lilith replies. “And here I am, sitting here playing with my touchscreen. I feel so normal now. This is just sick, you know that? A really sick idea.”
“The idea is both compassionate and inventive,” says Thoughtful 45. “Your objections seem to be based solely on aesthetic preference.”
“We wouldn’t care if they looked like pink-haired ponies,” refutes Hrrrrrrrrrrrgh/PAF. “Think of all the sentients they’ve eaten alive. We won’t be safe until every last one of the Great Dread is eradicated.”
“All three hundred thousand of them?” I ask. “That will take some time.”
Hrrrrrrrrrrrgh/PAF is quick with an answer. “We will mobilize the Hreck immediately.”
Newberg snaps his pincers in the empty air. He does not look at all happy.
“Don’t you even care that you’re sentencing so many of the Hreck to die?” asks Neliit.
“We are not concerned with the fates of rudimentary sentients.”
“The Eer-gaaani don’t espouse or particularly like your elitist attitude. Nevertheless, you should care that you’re greatly inconveniencing Ashtara and the Quicknodes.”
“Regrettable, but necessary. The Great Dread pose an enormous threat to Advanced Sentient Species, and they are the most logical choices to face that threat.”
“Being that I am somewhat new to the ways of the Combine, I have a procedural question. Do the SongLuminants have final say on everything, or can a vote be called?” I ask.
“Any member can call a vote,” says Thoughtful 45. “And all member species are weighted equally.”
“Then I propose that we vote on whether Tucana should be set aside as a habitat for the Denolin Turym, under the provision that a nau’gsh orchard is created. I’m willing to give up my exploitation rights, and with the help of the Quicknodes, supervise the saplings until they know what’s expected of them. This will be a great conservation of the resources that would have had to be expended on a war, as well as saving many lives, both Denolin Turym and quite possibly Hreck.”
“Sounds good to me,” says Marty Twist. “Tucana’s a dump anyway.”
High Chancellor Matek Lopen *click* Bar Treven *click* Sanis Poltra *clickclick* waves her antennae, her body swaying into a little dance. “The High Chancellor is moved by the beauty of your idea,” translates Thoughtful. “She wants to know if the Cu’enashti would also be interested in partnering with the Ateher *hissclick* Masock.”
“I’ll consider it,” I murmur, summoning my best imitation of Patrick’s diplomatic grace. It is hard enough for a Cu’enashti not to be revolted by the mate-eating Ateher *hissclick* Masock without the insinuation that we would make excellent cattle. Humans already think of Cu’enashti as sex slaves and wish-fulfilling faeries. However, I note that the SongLuminants have no problem with the mantis-folk’s dietary preferences. I suppose what two consenting insectoids decide to do in their own bedroom is nobody’s business.
The vote is taken; the only ones in opposition are the SongLuminants and the Floatfish. “Good luck with that,” sulks Hrrrrrrrrrrrgh/PAF. “It was our technology which made it possible to drill into the nul-universe to establish Yggdrasil. You can’t have a nau’gsh orchard without access to nul-energy.”
The ELFF frowns, planting the delicate wisps of her hands against the lyrical curves of her hipbones. It is like thunder clouds gathering over a sun-streaked canyon. I can feel my heart sinking at her obvious displeasure, but the SongLuminant is unmoved.
“What about us?” says Neliit. “Do we get any say in this, especially since it’s our nature preserve?”
“Dear counselor, we hold your people in the highest regard, but you hold no membership in this body,” Hrrrrrrrrrrrgh/PAF. “Of course, your wishes are of the utmost concern to us, and we have taken them under consideration, but regretfully…”
“Do they qualify for membership?” I ask.
“But of course,” says Hrrrrrrrrrrrgh/PAF. “We would even waive the judgment process out of respect to the ancient ties of friendship which binds our two species.”
The ELFF does a few spins, spreading her diaphanous wigs.
“However, the Eer-gaaani have made it clear that against all our entreaties, they wish no contact with other sentients. Our offer of friendship has been spurned.”
“But what if the Eer-gaaani were members?” I press. “Would it matter if they assumed responsibility for the conduct of the Denolin Turym?”
“The Eer-gaaani have made their feelings known,” says Hrrrrrrrrrrrgh/PAF, who somehow managed to make the fish’s gurgling convey billions of years of regret.*
“I believe that the Eer-gaaani have reconsidered,” I said, meeting Neliit’s lower set of eyes. “They have realized that to engage in relationship always runs the risk of misunderstanding, and that love is as great a struggle as war.”
“Is this true?” asks Hrrrrrrrrrrrgh/PAF.
“We would consider membership, but not under the present terms,” Neliit replies. “We could never be a party to the process of species erasure. In fact, we dislike the judgment process as a whole. The Eer-gaaani could only join a newly reconstituted Combine of Sentients which was open to membership from all spacefaring species – including the Denolin Turym.”
Hrrrrrrrrrrrgh/PAF flicks his tail nervously. As he does, the ELFF dances, a dance which conveys clearly through expressive gesture this content: If you don’t go along with it, I will gather up all the rainbows in the galaxy and hide them forever.
“It seems that our old friends are highly in favor of renewing our ties,” says Hrrrrrrrrrrrgh/PAF. “However, we can only see disaster from accepting species into the Combine willy-nilly. And I fear the idealism of the Eer-gaaani occasionally clouds clear judgment. There are species that exist only for the destruction of other sentients – Species 25, for example. The erasure process has been carefully established to avert catastrophe for Advanced Sentients.”
Neliit paces the length of the chambers several times before stopping to face Hrrrrrrrrrrrgh/PAF. “Well, there’s nothing that says you can’t make the application process difficult. And there is nothing to preclude the Combine from engaging in justified warfare with non-member species if their actions maliciously threaten the commonweal. We’re just against pre-emptive strikes.”
“Why not establish an inner commission to deal with issues of great importance?” I suggest.
Hrrrrrrrrrrrgh/PAF floats in my direction, blinking his enormous eyes. I have caught his attention, as intended. Both the SongLuminants and the Floatfish practice communal decision-making, and like the idea of increasingly elitist councils. “Why don’t we establish the members of the current Combine as full members,” he muses, “and make all new members associates?”
“The Eer-gaaani will enter as full members,” inserts Neliit.
And now for the coup de grace.
“As will the Humans and the Hreck,” she finishes, winking her top left eye.
“Now wait a minute,” says Hrrrrrrrrrrrgh/PAF.
“That’s a great idea,” says Thoughtful 45.
“It’s like dumping bilge in the tank,” says Fllllllrrrrrrrrt. “I mean, the Hreck, maybe…”
“The Twist would agree to Humanity joining the Combine as long as there’s a big celebration – a week long, at least – and Wynne attends it,” says Marty.
“Wynne would be happy to attend, especially if we held the gala in the casino of Everybody Goes to Tommy’s,” I reply. “Come to think of it, that would give Driscoll a chance to redeem his reputation as a party-planner.”
“The Ateher *hissclick* Masock want to attend the party, and also to tour the Dolparessan Forests,” translates Thoughtful 45.
“I love it,” says Lilith. “And if the Cantor says anything, I’ll remind her that sometimes Cu’enashti make bad choices. After all, at least an insectoid cannibal isn’t a synthetic intelligence.”
“Then it’s settled,” says Neliit. “Eleven full members of the Combine of Sentients, applications are open for associate members. And the SongLuminants agree to build the orchard.”
Hrrrrrrrrrrrgh/PAF releases a gurgling sigh. “I’ll get the Vent Lords right on it,” he agrees. “The new application procedure will just be a slight modification of the current judgment process. They’ll probably have it all worked out in a few million rotations. Until then, new memberships are suspended.”
*****
There are a few additional details to be worked out before the meeting breaks up. For the sake of convenience, Newberg is named the Hreck nuncio, and the role of Human nuncio is assigned to the Matriarch of Skarsia. “That went better than expected,” says Tara, when we’re back in our quarters. “As far as the Combine goes, policy will be driven by the Domha’vei, not Earth.”
“Earth is hardly in any position to drive policy,” says Lord Danak. “I hear it’s a shambles.”
“That’s what Clive says, which is different from Tellick’s official story. I thought that Newberg was about to go belly up, though. Talk about being at the right place and time.”
“I had no idea that Étouffée was his mate,” I comment. “Making her the ambassador to the Domha’vei seemed the politically astute thing to do.”
“Indeed,” says Lord Danak. “Should I call for an immediate press conference to announce the news?”
“After lunch,” I say. “I need time to prepare a decent speech. Also, I have to think about the most effective way to deal with Rivers.”
“We should also figure out a way to incorporate the Combine into the Restoration Day celebration this weekend.”
“The Enlightenment Festival! I completely forgot.”
“You weren’t planning on being in Tucana for that, were you? A god can hardly afford to be absent from the celebration of his ascension.” He turns to Tara. “It was actually convenient that you took Abbott Deverre with you during the height of the planning. Lately there have been certain clashes of policy between the Johannonite Monks and Archbishop Venesti. Venesti tends to be conservative, but Deverre is positively evangelical.”
“Perhaps Archbishop Seth needs to sort it out,” I suggest.
Tara’s expression is skeptical. “Seth couldn’t sort a sock drawer without five week’s research into ontology. As much as I love him, he’s not a pragmatic man. Get Patrick to do it.”
Lord Danak excuses himself. When he is gone, Tara hands me a scotch with a RootRiot chaser. “You don’t need time to prepare a speech. You need a drink.”
“You’re becoming an enabler,” I say, drinking it all in two large swallows.
“It did go well,” says Tara. “How’s Lorcan going to take it?”
“You have a way of asking the uncomfortable questions. Have you considered a career in journalism?”
“Being that I’m already a xenobotanist, corporate magnate, seasoned warrior and ruler of an interstellar empire, I think I’m already overextended.”
“Don’t think small. An immortal has time to pursue many different careers. And it’s an intergalactic empire now.”
“You just gave away Tucana.”
“It was a dump. The Draco Dwarf Cluster is much better. The only regret is that Yggdrasil was designed to be a war machine, with a structure to enable maximum power flow.”
“Designed,” says Tara. “Was Goliath designed?”
“For aesthetics. Because of that, it’s not as efficient as Atlas, which grew in response to spontaneous need. And not nearly as efficient as Yggdrasil.”
“I’m not sure how I feel about that…the idea of designing a tree.”
“Malachi says that the new nau’gsh for Shambhala will be called Ashvattha. It will be designed to increase our spiritual understanding. Don’t ask me what that’s supposed to mean.”
“Ashvattha, the sacred Bodhi tree. That’s an appropriate name.” Tara pours a second round of drinks. “You never answered my question about Lorcan. Since the Denolin Turym killed him, he’s sure to hold some resentments, knowing him.”
“I’m afraid that dying was definitely not the problem. The problem was not dying fast enough. The situation was extremely traumatic, and Lorcan needs everyone’s support. Unfortunately, Cillian is giving him a rough time.”
“Cillian is being an asshole – how is that news?”
“Well, it’s worse than usual. He woke up in a vile mood. Come to think of it, he was the last emanation to come out of the comatose state when Yggdrasil was incorporated into the grove. A number of us were trying to rouse him, too.”
“The grove? I like that.”
“It does seem fitting. Anyway, we were hoping that Cillian would be able to take over in the crisis. We had our doubts about Lorcan.”
“Yes, but maybe Ash specifically didn’t want Cillian to deal with it. Think about it – what would his reaction have been to the Denolin Turym?”
“Kill them all. You have a point.”
“As odd as it might seem, I think Lorcan was exactly the right emanation to deal with the situation. But what’s wrong with him now?”
“He’s in bad shape. I wish he could explain it to you himself, but I don’t think he’ll want to emanate for a while.”
“Can Beat emanate? Not that I’m trying to get rid of you, but I’m pretty anxious after seeing what happened to him. That and I’ve got three new husbands I haven’t even met.”
So she’s broached the topic herself, as I was hoping. We wouldn’t have dared to ask. “You intend to accept Yggdrasil? We understand that you must be upset, since we went behind your back.”
“That isn’t the fault of the new emanations. And does the logic that I’m married to Ashtara’s whole being apply less to Yggdrasil than Goliath?”
That’s one worry off my mind. In fact, she seems considerably less upset about the whole escapade than I would have expected. Of course, when she finds out – as she inevitably will – the nature of the vision in Lens’ left eye, she’s going to be furious. The growth of Yggdrasil, the new set of emanations, the suffering of Lorcan, was all for one purpose – to allow Tara to be named as Humanity’s nuncio to the Combine of Sentients.
* The term used by the Archon literally means “the pain which is caused by anal fissures,” and probably translates in connotation most closely to the modern English term “butthurt.” However, the modern idiom is inappropriate to convey the dignity of the Archon’s language. -trans