Matriarch’s Journal: 1st Landsday of the Month of Restoration, 3617
To my surprise, Driscoll was gone this morning. I expected that between the last touches for the Enlightenment Festival and the huge Combine Incorporation Gala he’s planning for New Year’s, he would be around for a while, but he was all business, making arrangements and leaving as soon as he could. He didn’t say much to me – which, for Driscoll, is shocking. There’s definitely something on his mind.
I really I wish I’d had more time to spend with him. I wanted to ask him how he was getting on with Ace, and what he thought of the dream we’d shared with Hurley, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It had been a moment of exposure, a revelation of how tender and vulnerable he can be. I’m well aware of that side of him, but getting to it is like peeling back skin, and as much as I want to get closer, I always end up helping him apply bandages as soon as possible. Knowing him, it’s likely that he left so abruptly because he didn’t want to talk about it.
Lens approached me with eyes averted. The amount of formal respect he gives to me is rather sweet, but we are lovers. I was hoping he’d start to feel a bit more comfortable. “If it would not offend you,” he said, “I am willing to offer my seeds to be given to the Eer-gaaani. Provided, of course, that the fruit is consumed beforehand.”
“You just want me to eat you.”
Lens smiled bashfully, glancing at his shoes. “Well, there does seem to have been a miscommunication perpetuated by the Cu’enashti culture established by the Cantor. The desire to keep the eating of the fruit a secret, in order to dissuade outsiders from the attempt, has led to a very ritualistic approach to its consumption, an approach which is now becoming counterproductive.”
“I would think that the fact that Cu’enashti nau’gsh fruit induces violent vomiting in everyone but a specific tree’s Chosen might serve as sufficient deterrent to the curious.”
“Her caution is warranted. Consider that the consumption of many psychoactive plants involves regurgitation, a fact which has never deterred the adventurous. However, our true desire is that you consume our fruit on a regular basis. A constant low-level of nau’gshtamine amide-t in your system will induce a resonance between us, making it easier for Self to communicate with you.”
“That could be problematic. It’s likely that I’ll build up a tolerance for when I take the blue amrita.”
“Take more. It’s impossible for you to overdose.”
On the surface, it seemed a reasonable request. In practice, there were two obstacles. First, I hesitate to consume your apples because I never knew what to do with the seeds. I suppose there is an obvious answer: give them to Neliit, or send them to the Draco Colony. The other problem is the emanations’ reactions whenever I eat an apple. It’s a very erotic act for them. It isn’t something I can do easily in public.
“Juice,” said Lens, sensing the source of my hesitation. “I believe you juice apples to make amrita. You can also drink the juice. You can even use it as a mixer.”
I could see it now – a panoply of new cocktails. The Bombed Bomber – three parts vodka, five parts Cillian, and a dash of hot sauce. The Smooth Operator – Bourbon and Wynne on the rocks. “I suppose I could macerate the fruit in sugar and vinegar,” I said. “It would be a nau’gsh shrub.”
Lens looked at me curiously before laughing. He didn’t seem quite certain how to take my sense of humor. “All right,” I said. “It seems almost a shame, though. Juice isn’t nearly as sexy.”
“I thought the problem was that fruit was too provocative?”
“No, the problem is that we’re too busy saving the universe to spend our lives in bed.”
Lens removed his spectacles. “You are a woman of remarkably good sense.”
*****
Lord Danak was not at all happy that we intended to return to Tucana as soon as the festival was over; he was especially not happy that I would be taking the Staff of the Matriarch with me. However, he had his hands full with public relations. In the three days since Ailann announced our incorporation into the Combine, galactic politics had gone wild. The IndWorlds were furious. They didn’t seem to know whether they were angrier that all humans were considered to be Combine members whether they wanted to be or not, or that I had been appointed nuncio and not one of their leaders. Within the Domha’vei, the mood was triumphant, a mood exacerbated by the proclamation of the Johannonite monks that humanity’s elevation to the status of Advanced Sentients was the first step in the prophesied establishment of the universal Skarsian empire. If any of the other Advanced Sentients objected to this credo, they were silent. CenGov was also surprisingly silent on the matter. That meant they were either too disorganized to comment or care, or that Tellick’s party had gained some ground, and he understood the price of antagonizing the SongLuminants.
There were other things on Lord Danak’s mind. In the few days that I had been gone, there had been trouble on Tasea. “We had to put down four riots last week. The Fenntians have allied themselves with TIP – the Tasean Independence Party. They’re accusing the potential colonists of treason for abandoning the homeworld.”
“I should have known better. Never involve Tasea. Any initiative involving Tasea is certain to go pear-shaped.*”
“We can’t afford a delay in the colonial project,” he continued. “We’re in a precarious position both at home and on Tasea.”
“Shouldn’t we develop some kind of training program for the colonists?” I suggested. “Make certain they have the necessary skills to survive on a virgin planet? That could buy us some time.”
“We had considered it, but we were going to cheap out with some short in-flight training modules. Now that you mention it, the Taseans might not be as well-educated as our own citizens. We might want to do something more extensive to acquaint them with the farming and fabrication equipment.”
“The Volparnians will need that too, considering their literacy level.”
“Ah, but we made the ability to read a prerequisite of application. Interest in the colony is so high that the demand for adult education on Volparnu has skyrocketed. The new access portal to the Matriarch’s library is actually being used. And since every adult member of an emigrating family has to be literate, they’ve even caved in and allowed the women to learn.”
“That’s a wonderful idea. Why didn’t I know about it?”
“Oh, I came up with it while you were gallivanting around Tucana. Life goes on, you know. But if either you or His Holiness would remain here at all times, I wouldn’t have to make decisions like that on my own.”
“Lord Danak, you’ve just reinforced our faith in your ability. Most likely, you’re more suitable to rule the Domha’vei than me. One of these days, we might just leave it all in your hands.”
“I’m not sure whether to be flattered or frightened by that statement,” he said. “But truly, I’m happiest as the power behind the throne.” He glanced out the window. “It’s midday already. Do you mind if I have a drink?”
Before I could answer, Lord Danak helped himself to some of Ailann’s best scotch. “All right,” he decided. “We’ll set up a training facility. Actually, we could just use the old rebel base cum prison camp on the fourth moon of Rimbaud. It’s been more-or-less abandoned since we sent the CenGov POWs home. It will take a few weeks to set up the equipment – by then, we could transport the Taseans here.”
“Get Sir Kaman to do a workshop on nau’gsh cultivation. That will be a very important skill.” Actually, it was bullshit. If a nau’gsh wants to grow, it’s going to grow, but I didn’t want the colonists to know that.
“Good point,” said Lord Danak, typing into his datapad. “So we could buy ourselves a month – maybe two.”
“It might not be possible to have another Ashtree established by then, let alone enough saplings to terraform the planet,” said Lens. He had been silent for the duration of the conversation. Lord Danak raised an eyebrow.
“You’ll do it,” he said. “You always do. That’s why you’re God, and I’m not.”
*Literally “daznasa-shaped” – a type of Frangfrangian produce – trans.