Ancestor's World

by T. Jackson King

lives with dignity before each other, choosing honorable actions over dishonorable ones."

  Pokeel eyed him. "So that is why you fought so fiercely against the smugglers at camp and the slavers at the corrals! And your scars, they are the visible mark of your honor fights?" Khuharkk's crest ruffled in affirmation.

  Pokeel wrapped her own tail around her talon-feet. "And your honor scars, this visible sign of honor you show your fellows, you show this to your ancestors as well?"

  Khuharkk' answered carefully, not wanting to offend the female. "We do not believe we exist--after death." Pokeel looked shocked. "Oh, how tragic!"

  Khuharkk' settled his mane. "What we do here and now is what matters to my people. But still, we both believe that others--dead or alive--judge our actions. Yes?"

  "Yes," Pokeel hissed approvingly. "Tell me more about the way of honor among the Simiu. I am a student of such matters."

  "As am I myself, Chief Marshal. Let us trade stories, and understand our people better." Almost slurring his High Na-Dina from eagerness, Khuharkk'

  began telling the tales of his world, tales of Honor as old as the savannas of Hurrreeah itself.

  Gordon relaxed back into his old wooden chair, his boots propped up on the Lab's conference table, listening closely as this week's share-and-compare reporting wound down. It had been two days since Etsane's outstanding discovery of the catacomb glyph-wall in the City of White Stone, and that had given everyone a powerful boost. Forcing himself not to stare at Mahree, he noted that all his colleagues seemed anxious to hear the final two reports.

  Even Krillen, who had elected to remain in camp while he pursued his investigations, was there, listening quietly.

  Gordon nodded at their specialist in the Physical Sapientological Analysis of Na-Dina burial remains.

  "Doctor Strongheart, I understand you've finished the first run of gene typing on the body of King A-Um Rakt. Did you find anything interesting?"

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  "Quite interesting." Her eyes swept around the table. "Using protein probes to investigate PCR-copied DNA that was extracted from the dried blood of the King, I located a number of unusual gene sequences. Though they represent only thirty-three genes out of the one hundred thousand that make up the Na-Dina genome, these genes are not natural to Ancestor's World, or its people." She paused as excitement spread around the table. "They are Mizari genes!"

  At the far right, Beloran appeared upset. Etsane, Sumiko, Natual, and Ttalatha seemed overjoyed. The Shadgui Hrashoi ruffled his black fur, clearly at ease. Gordon fixed on the Esteemed Lorezzzs, whose silver and amber scales shone under the lab's fluorescent lights. "My good Lorezzzs, do you agree?"

  "Of course! Of course I do!" The Mizari Ceramicist fluttered her fringe of neck tentacles, showing open delight. "Doctor Strongheart compared these gene sequences to ones taken from my own blood, in addition to standard comparisons with the Mizari medical literature. The identification is correct."

  Gordon turned back to Strongheart. "Well, madam, tell us what it means to find these genes among the Na-Dina."

  "With pleasure," Strongheart said, sounding triumphant. "The presence of Mizari genes among the gene pool of the Na-Dina is not an indication of interbreeding. It is an indication of their long-term presence here, on Ancestor's World, for a period equal to at least one native generation."

  Sumiko raised her hand. "Doctor Strongheart, how did the gene transfer occur, if not by breeding?"

  The Heeyoon female explained, "Jumping genes, my dear. A feature of cellular biology observed centuries ago on your own Earth, and on the other planets of the CLS, is the occurrence of jumping genes. The chimpanzees, booboos, and humans of your own world share an overlapping genetic heritage. In fact, all three primate species share more than ninety-eight percent of the same genetic makeup." Her fluffy tail wagged once. "It's the remaining few percent that made the difference, over time, as natural 264

  selection and evolution differentiated the three groups."

  "But that reflects shared evolution on a common planet," Eloiss the Drnian objected.

  Strongheart shrugged. "Yes. And no. The Mizari and the Na-Dina do not share a common evolution. But they do share a common reptilian heritage.

  Both species are oviparous, bearing their young in eggs. Both species have similar metabolisms and dietary customs, preferring live prey. Both also sneeze, cough, and expel moisture from their lungs. That moisture carries gene sequences within it." Eloiss rubbed her bulging forehead. "Then jumping genes are those genes spread by air or tissue contact?"

  "Correct." The wolfish alien paused. "So both species can catch the same illnesses, as witness the Esteemed Lorezzzs' bout with sand fever when she first arrived here." The elderly Heeyoon grew serious. "It's fortunate she in turn went through regular decontamination procedures before slithering out onto the sands of Ancestor's World. It's standard practice on all starships, but in this case it was critical. Otherwise, the Na-Dina could have caught a Mizari disease, one that irritates our friends but might have been deadly to the Na-Dina." She eyed Gordon. "Doctor Mitchell, I recommend this potential for interspecies disease transmission be reported to the CLS Council at the earliest possible time, so all incoming ships can take extra sterilization steps."

  One more thing to worry about. "Good point, Strongheart. Excellent genetic analysis. Anything more to report?"

  "No," she said.

  Gordon nodded to Etsane. "Well, Chief Iconographer, what do you have to tell us?"

  The girl's smoky brown eyes held barely restrained excitement. "I've completed a basic vocabulary and grammar of First Dynasty Na-Dina."

  "What!" Mahree looked amazed at her protégé. "But-- well, that's great! How did you make such fast progress?" Etsane's narrow, aristocratic face opened up for a moment before she turned serious. "Actually, Ambassador, 265

  both projects are only partially completed. There are years of work yet to be done. But, thanks to the Great Plaza glyph-wall's grouping of Mizari Four, First Dynasty Na- Dina, and archaic Temple Na-Dina, I quickly reached some conclusions about this language." Etsane picked up the slate and pointed it at the wall-screen. "If I may illustrate?" Gordon folded hands over his belt buckle and nodded amiably. "I'm really looking forward to this."

  The Ethiopian faced the wal -screen. "Ancient Na-Dina shares much in common with ancient hieroglyphic Egyptian of the Old Kingdom. As you can see here, both styles of writing brought together the pictogram, the ideogram, and the phonogram." On the screen, images flicked on and off to illustrate her points. "Like Egyptian, First Dynasty Na- Dina evolved as a true pictorial representation of reality, a one-for-one symbol. A house symbol for a house, a bird for a bird, and so forth." The screen flashed again. "Like Egyptian, the language made use of metonymic methods to indicate concepts, like a representation of the wind by showing a billowing sail."

  More images flicked past. "With the help of the Mizari Four panel, I tracked down the homophones in the language, so a symbol that means both

  'daughter' and 'bird' could be differentiated. The difference between the two was shown by a generic determinative sign added to the phoneme

  ideoglyph, again as in Egyptian." The attractive woman looked his way, smiling shyly. "Doctor Mitchell, your paper on uniliteral signs in archaic Heeyoon Two was helpful. I found similar signs in the middle text, which in effect generated a rude alphabet of forty-six letters. Counting all the ideograms, phonograms, and determinatives, I suspect the language had a range of four thousand signs, with wide expressive values."

  Sumiko frowned, trailing fingers through her short black hair. "That sounds like Japanese kanji ideoglyphs."

  Etsane nodded. "Exactly!" She waved her slate at the screen. "And the archaic Temple Na-Dina of the right-hand text block is equivalent to the simplified, more cursive ka - takana used in modern Japanese. This is a process whereby

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  two forms of the same sign mean the same thing."

  Etsane pointed at Pokeel, who, with
Axum and the two Historians from the Temple of Records, also sat at the table. "And, Sisters and Brother, this process is very similar to the evolution of hieratic Egyptian from the hieroglyphs used in the temples. Here, as in ancient Egypt, hieratic was an abbreviated form of hieroglyphs. Like Temple Na-Dina, hieratic was used in administrative, accounting, arid legal documents. Demotic Egyptian was simply a later version of hieratic, the one which evolved by the third century a.d. into a heavily alphabetized language that became Coptic. But the phonemes were still the same, going back nearly three thousand years!"

  Gordon heard the girl's triumphant conclusion to a long chain of linguistic analysis, something much assisted by the camp's supercomputer and Mahree's Mizari Four lexicon. But the solution was all due to Etsane's dedication. He doubted the girl had slept ten hours in the last couple of days.

  "Etsane, that was a fine demonstration of chronolinguistic principles. Seems fitting that it was Champollion's knowledge of Egyptian Coptic that allowed him to recreate the phonetics of ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs, while your own knowledge of Mizari Four, and modem High Na-Dina, al owed you to interpolate the phonemic correlations between the two. Congratulations!"

  Mahree raised her hand. "Etsane, did you find much paleographic variation over time in the glyphs?"

  The young woman rubbed her nose. "Not much, but that part of the analysis is still very, very fresh. I concentrated mostly on matching up the three texts, then using the identified phonemes, uniliteral and determinative signs to translate the ideoglyphs of First Dynasty Na-Dina." Etsane grinned sheepishly. "In the process of doing that, I necessarily developed the raw vocabulary and deduced the grammatical rules that differ from today's Na-Dina." Pokeel fluttered her ears questioningly. "Etsane, I hear your words, but the meaning is as clear as ashfall at sunset. Does this mean you can tell us what the inscription in the Royal Tomb says?"

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  "Oh, yes!" Etsane thumped her high forehead. "I was so wrapped up in the process of figuring this all out, I almost forgot the most important point." She lowered the slate, folded her hands in front of her, and grinned at Gordon like a kid getting out of school early. "Doctor Mitchell, the Tomb inscription is to be read from left to right, from the top row of the seven down to the bottom row. Just like modem English."

  Shaking his head, Gordon said, "Does that mean you've made a full decipherment?"

  Etsane's face fell. "Not fully. I've deciphered about sixty percent of the ideoglyphs, but there are some idiomatic glyphs I'm still figuring out." She turned to Pokeel, Axum, and the two Temple Historians. "Perhaps you can look over my glyph list and tell me what you can recognize?" Axum smiled with her ears. "I'd be happy to come by tonight, Etsane. And--thank you for opening up these hidden pages in the book of our Revered Ancestors. This is a discovery which will make all of the People rejoice." Gordon agreed. But Beloran, judging by the set of his ears, did not. Why was the Liaison always so sour? It was as if the alien hoped his work would fail.

  Fail. Could Beloran have a special reason to be mad at him? More than that common to all the Modernists? He'd always lumped the alien's attitude in with that of the Royal bureaucrats, who loved to protect their turf with bushels of rules. But now--

  "Gordon?" Mahree said.

  He blinked, turning away from Beloran. Etsane was looking at him expectantly. Ignoring the Liaison, he gestured to the Ethiopian. "Sixty percent translation is still fantastic. Would you read us a segment of what you've done so far?"

  Etsane's wide grin returned. "I'd be delighted." Looking down at her record slate, she adjusted it so pictures of the gold foil-coated ideoglyphs appeared on the wall-screen, then started reading. "In the twenty-sixth year of the reign of Great King A-Um Rakt, the rainbow-scaled. Sky Spirits showed the People how to dig a water wel deeper than

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  any in the city of Segor A-mun. With stone smelted from the Mountains of Faith they did devise --''

  Gordon smiled as she read, reliving his own first excitement at the wonder of archaeology, and how it allowed you to touch the people of long gone. And to share in the great adventure of any species--the trek across time.

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  CHAPTER I 5 Father's Snores, Mother's Tears

  Mahree woke up when she hit the ground, which was shaking fiercely.

  Earthquake, she thought to herself.

  Dazed, blinking herself awake, she looked around Gordon's dome-tent, lit only by the flickering strobe of multiple lightning flashes. Giant booms echoed in her ears. The rush of heavy rain pounded on the tent roof.

  Gordon? Where was he? A sudden explosion of light showed him on the other side of the bunk, picking himself up from the sandy ground. "It's a bad one!" he shouted, coming toward her. The ground was lunging back and forth in an uneven, stuttering rhythm. Mahree took his hand, then fell into his arms as a whip-cracking ground shock moved under their feet.

  Gordon hugged her reassuringly "We'd better get dressed and get out of here. This is the thunderstorm Krillen said he sensed building last night!

  We're going to have flash floods on top of this earthquake!"

  Mahree sat on the ground and pulled on her shirt. "Floods? Is the Camp safe?"

  Gordon had one foot in his shorts, jumping to keep his balance on the other.

  "Our creek is outfitted with baffles

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  to slow the flood. They should protect us. But no one working out in the valley is safe."

  Mahree felt sudden fear. "This quake--could it be due to drilling at the Lake of Stars?"

  "Maybe." Shorts buckled, Gordon was stuffing his foot into a boot when the quake shuddered to a stop.

  Queasy, ears ringing, Mahree felt her body thrumming as though from tiny aftershocks. Overhead, the rain beat against the roof even harder. In a moment, they were dressed.

  The radio, face down in a comer of the tent, beeped weakly. Gordon caught up the unit and slapped the talk button. "We've just had a major quake here and--"

  "Mitchell! This is McAllister from Nordlund! Our signal is unreliable, so shut up and listen!" Gordon set the radio on the table and began pulling on his safari shirt. "We've also had a major quake at the dam site. The diversion dam is cracked and we're facing a possible core failure. The impound lake could breach the dam and flood downstream!"

  Now dressed, Mahree rushed to the radio. "McAllister! How could that be?

  The PE said there were no faults at the site!"

  "He lied." The pilot's static-warped voice sounded angry. "To all of us. The dam axis lies above a strike-slip fault. Maybe the grout injection freed it to slip. Maybe it was just time for it to let go. Don't know."

  "Dead people is what lying gets you," Gordon said to himself. Then, to the radio, "Do your folks at the dam need help? We've got the shuttle and two jumpjets."

  "We--'' McAllister's voice died as static surged from a nearby lightning strike.

  "--and haven't been able to contact the drilling crew at the Lake of Stars. The quake that just hit you was Force Seven and its epicenter was directly underneath the drilling site. Can you send someone to check on them?"

  Mahree grimaced. "McAllister, they were drilling on a fault line! If they've got contaminated radonium lying around, they could all be dead."

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  The radio sputtered and sizzled, but no more words came from it. Gordon looked at her. "Mahree, I'm going to the Lab. People should be gathering there by now. Can you check on the condition of the jets and shuttle?"

  "Of course." She grabbed her com unit, stuck it to the belt of her shorts, winced as thunder boomed again, then pointed down at the sodden sand.

  "Gordon, there's a lot of water coming from somewhere."

  "Damn right there is!" He grabbed his pulse-gun holster, threw it over his shoulder. "Bet the water is cascading over the canyon rims by now." He rushed out.

  Beyond the flap-door, sheets of rain turned the light of morning pale gray.

  Bracing herself, Mahree followed.

 
; The rain hit her. A thundering boom bounced back and forth from canyon wall to canyon wall. In an instant her hair was soaked through. She cleared her vision just in time to see Mother's Touch reach down from blue-black clouds and strike the canyon rim, a spiderweb of yellow-white fury.

  She heard Gordon shouting something, turned to see Krillen staggering toward them. They ran to meet him, slipping and sliding in the mud. Etsane's tent was the closest, and it was half down, but Mahree saw no sign of the Ethiopian woman.

  A moment later, she reached Krillen, just in time to keep him from falling flat on his snout. The Na-Dina investigator was obviously injured, his eyes wide and dazed with pain.

  "Krillen?" she cried, supporting him and motioning to Gordon to help. "What happened?"

  "Beloran," he gasped, trying to balance on his tail, almost falling over.

  "What about him?" Gordon demanded. "I looked for him before we went to bed, but couldn't find him."

  "I know how he did it." Krillen sounded incoherent, almost babbling.

  "How he did what?' Mahree asked.

  "How he killed Waterston. The glider... it was the glider..."

  "What? How?" Mahree demanded.

  "Beloran hid the glider aboard the jumpjet before he hid

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  himself," Krillen said, still swaying. "Then, after Waterston was dead, he carried the glider out of the jumpjet, climbed up onto the hull of the craft--

  leaving the scratches we found--and unfurled the glider. Then he glided away, over the mesa, down to the nearest river port, where he took a barge back to Spirit. He had it all planned." Krillen gasped with pain and held his left leg. "I found him outside Etsane's tent at daybreak."

  "Etsane's tent!" Gordon said, looking around worriedly. "Where is she?"

  Krillen flinched as lightning struck nearby. "Beloran had her in his grasp, dragging her off toward the landing field. When I tried to stop him, he shot me with a pulse gun. I almost passed out, but then I saw you two."

  Mahree felt her stomach grow cold as the rain. "Etsane! Was she injured?

  Shot?" she yelled at Krillen, her voice rising above the thunder.