by S. H. Jucha
“Then you can live elsewhere,” Trobath pursued.
“We’ve a choice of many worlds,” Renée explained. “You saw images of the damage the drone caused this ship.”
Trobath nodded. Her brow furrowed, and her large eyes glistened with remorse.
“That remark wasn’t meant to cause you pain,” Renée said, laying a comforting hand on Trobath’s shoulder. “I’m explaining to you that decorating our ships would be a waste of precious time. During the last decades of annuals, we’ve lost many ships and many lives.”
“And we’ve added to that by hurting the Ollassa,” Trobath said. She halted. The possibility of the Ollassa rejecting her citizens had robbed her of the desire to move.
“You’re worried that your efforts will have amounted to nothing,” Alex said. “That the Arcus will be sent into the dark, and its citizens will have lost a chance at a home.”
“We could help each other,” Trobath said plaintively. “The Ollassa is a wonderful race. So peaceful; so kind.”
“I’ve good news for you,” Alex said. “Scarlet Mandator didn’t stop your tour of the planet because you weren’t making a good impression on the Ollassa.”
“No?” Trobath asked plaintively.
“No,” Alex replied gently. “The mandator learned what was needed. As you’ve heard, the enclave feedback was heavily divided into two opinions.”
“Like the core and the arches,” Trobath opined.
“Much like that,” Alex agreed. “The other mandators chose to take sides, which hasn’t helped. To end the debate, Scarlet Mandator has ordered that they consult their Life Givers.”
“Killian pointed out huge trees with fruit,” Trobath said. “Do the mandators eat the fruit and learn something from the experience?”
Renée laughed softly. “The fruit you saw hanging, Trobath, are the Ollassa.”
Trobath’s mouth was agape, and she regarded Alex for confirmation.
“The Ollassa grow on trees,” Alex confirmed.
“Then the Life Givers must be protected at all costs,” Trobath affirmed defiantly.
“Yes, they must,” Renée replied.
“What do you think the mandators will learn when they visit the Life Givers?” Trobath asked.
“I’ve my suspicion,” Alex replied. “I think Scarlet Mandator sent the other mandators to the Life Givers to hear similar messages to those who earned Scarlet Mandator the crescents.”
“Those are the unusual blooms along Scarlet Mandator’s body,” Renée explained.
“The mandator wasn’t born that way?” Trobath asked.
“No,” Alex replied. “The mandator visited the Life Givers ... all of them. After the interactions, the crescents bloomed along the body stalk.”
“Then the Life Givers believe in Scarlet Mandator,” Trobath said hopefully.
“They do,” Alex said, smiling. “There’s good reason to think positively, Trobath.”
Trobath regarded Alex’s beautiful, ugly face. “Then, while we wait, I would tour this drab ship of yours, Alex. Perhaps, Elvians can help you decorate it.”
Trobath felt confident in her offer until she saw the grand garden. She fell in love with the park’s natural beauty, and she apologized to her hosts for her presumption.
39: Agreement
Citron Mandator exited the tram. Bloom petals were curled since the mandators were directed to visit the Life Givers for clarification.
Scarlet Mandator’s directive had frustrated Citron Mandator, as it did the others. Enclave opinions were divided, but the majority of Ollassa believed as Citron Mandator did. Elvians weren’t welcome. Sentient animals shouldn’t be invited to live on the World of Light.
That Scarlet Mandator wore the crescents of the Life Givers further bothered the mandators who agreed with Citron Mandator. Although, Citron Mandator did recognize that Scarlet Mandator hadn’t forced an opinion on them. Instead, they were told that until they consulted their Life Givers, discussions wouldn’t resume, delaying a final decision.
Citron Mandator rode the personal transport along the trail that wound through the expanse of forest. Fronds closed against the cool air and the loss of the Light.
The mandator had considered remaining in the tram until the beneficence was greater. However, the tasker, who drove the tram, dashed that idea. The weather was expected to worsen and remain inclement for several cycles.
As the transport exited the trees, the bloom tilted toward the horizon. Dark clouds framed the Life Giver’s background, making the fronds shutter.
The mandator left the transport and urged the stalks to hasten toward the Citron Life Giver.
Like every Life Giver, this enormous sentient flora rested alone on the crest of a low and undulating hill. The Ollassa believed that the Life Givers, through some unknown process, kept other trees from taking root within broad circles that the Life Givers controlled.
At the base of the Citron Life Giver sat an interpreter, whose stalks had wedded with the Life Giver. The interpreter drew its nutrients directly from the trunk, and the Ollassa would live its life this way.
“Speak,” Umber Interpreter said to the mandator.
“I’m requested to ask the Life Giver whether the Elvians should be permitted to land,” the mandator replied.
“Scarlet Mandator sent you,” the interpreter beamed.
“Yes,” the mandator affirmed, perplexed as to how the interpreter would know.
“You need not wait, Citron Mandator, for an answer,” the interpreter said. “The Life Giver told me of your approach, and a message awaits you.”
“I’m listening,” Citron Mandator said.
“Scarlet Mandator speaks for the Ollassa,” the interpreter relayed to the mandator.
Despite the darkening sky, Citron Mandator hesitated to depart. Clarification of the message was needed. Unfortunately, the interpreter had curled against the trunk’s base for protection from the winds and was now somnolent.
The first drops of cool rain fell, and the mandator eyed the distance across the open meadow. The tasker waited at the forest’s edge, and the tasker’s stalks urged the mandator to hurry.
Unhappy and confused, the mandator set off down the hill and across the expanse of billowing grasses. At the transport, the mandator gingerly stepped aboard. Stalks responded sluggishly in the cooling atmosphere and dim Light.
The tasker pushed the transport to its limit, and the pair of Ollassa careened along the beaten path to the waiting tram. Once inside, the fronds welcomed the ultraviolet lights. Stalks warmed, became flexible, and drank from the mineral baths.
“You were at the Life Giver a short while, Mandator,” the tasker noted. “Was the interpreter not awake?”
“The interpreter had a message for me from the Life Giver,” the mandator replied. “According to the interpreter, the Life Giver expected me and had already supplied an answer to my request.”
“The communications of the Life Givers grow more confusing in the era of visiting animals,” the tasker said, while reversing the tram’s direction. They were returning to Mesa Control.
“What do you think of the Elvians?” the mandator asked.
“I’ve not met one of them,” the tasker said, “but I’ve heard from those who engaged them when the Omnian seedling landed nearby.”
The mandator’s bloom nodded. Most Ollassa had their information about the Elvians from others.
When the tram reached Mesa Control, the mandator hurried to convene with the other mandators. Most had already returned. The Citron Life Giver was one of the farthest entities from the rocky outcrop.
“What did you learn?” Citron Mandator asked of the others.
“You needn’t ask us,” Golden Mandator replied. “We know what you heard. It would be same thing that all of us learned. Scarlet Mandator speaks for the Ollassa.”
“Then the crescents that Scarlet Mandator wears aren’t recognitions for visiting the Life Givers,” Citron Mandator beamed despondently.
&
nbsp; “We’ve been wrong to believe that mandators could speak as a governing council. That we had the right to argue against and, perhaps, resist Scarlet Mandator’s decisions,” Plum Mandator replied.
* * * * *
At Scarlet Mandator’s request, Killian connected to Alex.
Immediately, Alex linked to Julien and requested Vyztram update Dafine, Yemerth, and Famgore on the mandator’s remarks.
One by one, Scarlet Mandator explained the directives under which the Elvians must live. None of the conditions were onerous, and most had been assumed.
When the mandator finished, Alex asked,
“They weren’t presumed to be temporary,” Scarlet Mandator replied.
The core’s reps exchanged worried glances. They’d expected a lengthy transition to fully integrate with the Ollassa. The mandator was proposing permanent incarceration within the domes.
Vyztram had found that the avatar ably mimicked the facial expressions of Elvians and Omnians, and the AI had readily employed them. This time, Vyztram said, to the core’s reps, “Wait for it,” and added a wink and a smile.
Alex sent.
“Shouldn’t the Elvian leaders offer their opinions on our proposal?” the mandator asked, startled by the turn in the conversation.
Into the silence that followed, Alex sent,
“Fears must be quieted,” the mandator beamed.
“They must,” the mandator sent. “That future is part of the Life Givers’ messages.”
Scarlet Mandator’s bloom surveyed the other mandators. The attempt at appeasement with their divisive wishes had failed. They’d heard Alex’s response, and blooms tilted downward.
“What would be fair, Alex?” Scarlet Mandator asked.
Alex replied.
The discussion with the core’s reps went quickly, and Alex returned to the conversation with the mandator.
“How will they reach those places?” asked Citron Mandator, which Killian relayed.
“But Ollassa can’t pilot a seedling ship,” Golden Mandator objected.
“You speak as if the Ollassa are the interlopers,” Citron Mandator accused.
“Your advice is appreciated, Alex,” Scarlet Mandator beamed, “and the alternate conditions are acceptable.”
With that, Scarlet Mandator ended the discussion and the objections of the other mandators. The Ollassa would embrace a new future. There would be an alliance with the Elvians, and it would progress as Alex Racine had negotiated.
* * * * *
Vyztram initiated the landing module. After reviewing the requirements, the AI consulted the SADEs. The module was considered extremely restrictive and was abandoned.
Instead, travelers filled with SADEs from two fleets flooded the lower level bays of the Arcus. In the meantime, engineers and techs from the fleets and the Elvian ship descended on a broad plain that Scarlet Mandator had donated.
Nearby was the edge of an escarpment that would serve as a launch-landing site for Elvian transports.
The Ollassa laid a spur of tram tracks from a main line toward the intended dome site.
All work was directed by the SADEs, who carried the general design plans and the domes’ specifications. With cargo travelers, the Omnians eschewed the tall escarpment, and pilots dropped their loads directly at the construction sites.
Vyztram ensured that a constant stream of vids from the SADEs’ eyes and travelers’ telemetry were fed throughout the Arcus.
The attendant families who’d voted with the core were thrilled to realize that their trust in the core’s reps and the Omnians was being rewarded. They marveled at the planet’s verdant vistas. Although, it was easy to enjoy the alien terrain by viewing a monitor.
That the alliance restricted the present population to the domes, except for work off planet, didn’t bother the majority of Elvians. The reports of the ship’s dying services had been hidden from many. When the dire news was finally revealed, it’d scared the citizens. Now, images of the planet and the dome preparations gave them hope. It was a sacrifice that most were gladly willing to pay for the opportunities offered the next generations.
As one older tech put it to Famgore, “After living aboard the Arcus all my life, I don’t think I’m ready to stand in a field of grass with sky and clouds above me and wind blowing on me. My offspring will adapt better to a planet than I ever could.”
Famgore had to agree. He wanted the population to abandon the ailing Arcus and make planetfall, but he would be content to observe the planet’s vista through the domes’ view plates.
The fleet’s humans were sufficient in number to provide three shifts per cycle. However, the few Elvians and Ollassa who participated followed the cycle. They only worked while the star shone.
Not so for the SADEs, who worked around the chronometer. The fleet’s many fighter pilots enabled the cargo shuttles to fly throughout the day and night to provide the SADEs with dome material.
Vyztram calculated the SADEs’ construction schedule was many times more efficient than the drone module’s predictions, which led to the Omnians’ swift completion of the domes’ structures.
Then, with role reversals, the Omnians supported the Elvian engineers and techs, while the domes’ services were installed.
Before the Arcus sailed inward, Vyztram had sent the drones to an asteroid. The module released five cradles from within the Arcus for transfer to the domes.
Now, the AI activated a portion of the landing module, using it to recall five drones from the outer rim. Arriving swiftly at the World of Light, the drones shot through the atmosphere, and the SADEs recorded the event. There were intense frictional flames around the fighters, but the heat was kept at bay by the spinning arches. None of the heat was recorded as having reached the core.
When the domes were pronounced serviceable, the efforts shifted to preparing cabins and setting up the hydroponic gardens and the protein tanks. As important, artists worked to decorate the internal separation walls with murals.
When Elvians transferred their cabins’ belongings down below, they stayed planetside. The demand was greatest for service individuals, which meant the early transferees were exclusively the core’s engineers, techs, and their families.
The elites resisted, and they ordered their attendants to remain with them. However, the elites were to face a s
eries of rude awakenings.
First, attendants and their families deserted their posts. They packed up their cabins and descended planetside.
Eventually, the elites were left without the majority of their attendants and dwindling core services, especially food delivery and meal preparation.
When the elites finally broke ranks and requested transport, they discovered there was no one willing to pack their sumptuous suites for them.
Vyztram dealt another ignominy to the elites. The AI laid out to them the amount of space that was allocated to their new residences. The elites were chagrined to realize their accommodations weren’t any grander than the core’s citizens.
After the elites landed and entered the domes, it fell to the core’s reps to deal the final blow to the elites’ pummeled egos.
Dafine stood with Yemerth and Famgore to announce to the elites that the core’s engineers would assign tasks. To the elites’ utter shock, they were required to participate in the domes’ operations. Thus began the long difficult struggle of the elites to learn tasks and function in work environments.
The Deloy descended planetside surrounded by the final group of elites, who were her greatest sycophants. During every step of the process, the Deloy insisted on giving orders about the manner in which she desired her transfer be executed. It fell to the elites to carry out her wishes. No one else would help, especially not the Omnians who remembered the Deloy had ordered security bots to incapacitate their leader.
When the Deloy entered her accommodations, she stared at the minimal space and demanded to know where the remainder of her residence was located.
Trobath had requested the privilege of communicating to the Deloy, and the core’s reps happily relinquished the job.
“How can I help you?” Trobath inquired sweetly of the Deloy.
“Address me properly,” the Deloy demanded.
Trobath smiled widely and her liquid eyes flared. “How can I help you, citizen?” she asked.
“Leave me,” the Deloy demanded imperiously.
“Happily,” Trobath replied, “but you should know that I’m the only core citizen who will communicate with you. No one else seems to want the task. You might try leaving this obviously unsuitable domicile by stepping outside the dome. I’m sure you’d be greeted enthusiastically by the predators that roam this planet.”