“This confirms what I have already heard. But what of his opponents? Who leads them?”
“His opponents have formed a coalition of sorts. This is their weakness. At the moment the strongest voice is the Santorini clan headed by a certain Tony Santorini, but he is not the real leader. That honour goes to the matriarch, Guiliana Santorini. She is the driving force. Tony is the brawn, the muscle. The brains belong to his cousin, Cardinal Alfonso Santorini.”
“Who is not a Jesuit?”
“No. His power base is amongst the Dominican order, the Hounds of the Lord. They have a history of persecuting people they believe to be heretics. On a more mundane level the good Cardinal has used his influence to advance his family.”
“A situation not unlike the church in the Middle Ages, with aristocratic families using their influence in the church…”
“Oh, not just during the Middle Ages I’m afraid. Powerful families have always used their links to the church to seek an advantage, especially in deeply Catholic countries. The church was barely affected by the democratic reforms of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. It has merely reverted to type.”
“You say the coalition has a weakness?”
“It is the same weakness all such coalitions have. Once they eliminate their mutual enemies, they will inevitably turn on each other. It has been this way throughout history. It is human avarice and stupidity. The ambition of the small-minded. Wolf knows this and will seek to divide and conquer. As is always the case with these things, it is merely a matter of time before a rival group challenges the Santorinis. Perhaps the Chicago mob under Wojchek, perhaps the Philadelphia mob under Lewinski. History tells us these things never last that long. There is always a challenger. No, Wolf sees things in the longer term. He wants to weaken all the families and their gangs and establish the rule of law. Yes, he can wait, but waiting has a cost in lost years, lost opportunities and lost lives.”
“And that is where Eden comes in?”
“Yes, a decisive victory would be helpful, very helpful.”
102
Yungchen
Yungchen Jayarama looked down at the infant suckling on her breast. Its eyes were closed with pure pleasure. Her mother Rinzen was gently rocking the baby’s sibling to sleep. These were the first two to arrive; more were due shortly.
“She has Tshentso’s eyes,” said her mother as she smiled at the child’s sleepy expression. “The same penetrating curiosity. The eyes of a true khandroma.”
“The other wet nurses are due to arrive today, aren’t they?” Yungchen asked as the infant detached from her nipple, it’s mouth dribbling with milk.
“Yes, they should be here soon; their rooms have been prepared. We’ll be a house of babies again, all Tshentso’s.” Her mother walked over to take the child from Yungchen. Freed, she stood, stretched and walked over to the window that looked out over the Luminous Sea.
The Jayarama compound was built into the cliffs of Indra Island in homage to the famous cliff top monastery in Bhutan, the Taktsang Palphug (built over a cave where legend said the Originator, the great Padmasambhava, had once meditated). It had been the last wish of their matrilineal ancestor Tshering and it had been home to generations of the Jayarama clan, the place Yungchen’s younger sister Tshentso had been born.
“It makes me feel clucky,” she said as she watched sea draco plunge into the ocean for swimmers. “I might have another one when this is settled.”
“Why, Chogyal is only three years old? You’re only sixteen. You should think of having a break. Why not join one of the expeditions? You have skills they could use.”
Yungchen sighed. The Jayarama name carried great expectations. She would be thrust into some sort of leadership role. Sometimes she wished she could change her name and alter her appearance. She turned back to look at her mother. “Any word from Tshentso?”
“Things are progressing. She thinks we’ll have them for a year at the most. She’ll want them settled within their host cultures while they are young, so the community will accept them without raising too many suspicions.”
“And the political forces on Eden? The Jayarama name does not impress everyone, especially considering that Tshentso is no longer here to work her charm.”
“Well, this is much bigger than Eden, now that we have other worlds. Our concern is with the whole of humanity, wherever it may be.”
Yungchen did not reply. She knew the family narrative well. Eden was never meant to be a self-contained society. It was a means to a much greater end. It was just that being a Jayarama could be a burden.
She saw a glint of light on the horizon. As she squinted she could make out a dot growing steadily larger. “A hover. I think that’s them,” she exclaimed excitedly. “I’m going to go and meet them.”
“And leave me to clean up this mess?” her mother complained as one of the babies let go a stream of piss high into the air.
Yungchen did not hear and ran down the stairs and through the complex of rooms, all modelled on Himalayan architecture: wooden beams, ornate wood carving, white washed walls, finely woven carpets and antique artwork transported from her ancestor’s home on Earth.
In no time she was standing on a broad stone terrace looking at the hover skim over the ocean. As it came closer it turned sideways and came to halt, its hatch lining up perfectly with the edge of the terrace. It opened and two figures appeared, one tall, with dark black skin and ritual scarification, and the other more muscular with fine blonde hair and Celtic tattoos on both shoulders. Yungchen could not contain her excitement and squealed immediately. “Atang! Úlfrún!” She raced up to embrace the first girl, Atang Daw, the president’s youngest daughter, just a few years older than Yungchen. After a quick kiss on the cheek she turned to the second girl, Úlfrún Thorsson, also older, the third daughter of the politically powerful Islaug Thorsson.
“It’s been too long,” said Yungchen as she took them arm in arm to lead them inside.
“The responsibilities of motherhood,” said Atang.
“It is why we were chosen,” said Úlfrún, cupping her swollen breasts. “We are mere cows to be milked for the greater good.”
Yungchen laughed. “Yes, I have just had one at my tit. Still, it has its pleasures. And how are your little ones? I know I was just a little depressed when mine started on solid food.”
They talked about babies and their birthing experiences as she showed them their rooms. It was small talk. Atang and Úlfrún were both highly intelligent young women and they would soon tire of the topic.
It was Atang who changed the subject as they stood in the kitchen preparing snacks. “I still find this all a bit mysterious. My mother tried to reassure me, but I’m not sure I understand.”
“Secrets are necessary. Some people have loose tongues and loose minds,” said Úlfrún.
“And others are not necessarily sympathetic,” Yungchen added.
“Still, I am uncomfortable with secrecy. Secrets are dangerous, divisive. It creates a power imbalance between those who know and those who don’t,” said Atang.
“It is inevitable. The larger societies become, the more they split into factions with differing ambitions. Those ambitions are not always compatible,” Úlfrún observed calmly.
“And you think Eden has reached that point?” Yungchen asked.
Úlfrún gave her a condescending smile, which made Yungchen lower her eyebrows with disapproval. “Eden has always been at that point. We have always had factions. It’s just that those factions found a way to compromise and be polite to each other. It’s only when one faction’s ambitions begin to impose on the ambitions of other factions that problems arise. I’ve studied our history closely. Some cliques and family groups have maintained reservations about some policies. Until now they have preferred to keep the peace and accept the majority decision.”
“Democracy is a compromise,” said Atang.
“And now the stakes have changed,” said Úlfrún as she took a sip of
tea and walked toward the lounge area. “I’ve missed being here,” she said as she looked around. “It’s almost like a second home.”
“Well, you are sort of family,” said Yungchen.
Úlfrún smiled politely. “Indirectly, of the line of the second wife, by a different father.”
Yungchen frowned. “Is that suddenly an issue, sister-cousin?”
“No, not to me, but you know how it is. As much as we Edenoi like to think we are equals, some are more equal than others. It’s not your family’s fault. But people do defer to you just because you are a Jayarama…”
“Just as they defer to you because you are of the Viking line, descendent of a Cricket.”
“Exactly my point. And it gives me certain privileges and greater authority. People who do not consider themselves to be from as illustrious a line either become deferential or resentful. Some of the lines descended from the Settlers feel forgotten, mediocre.”
“This is known,” said Atang. “The guardians help monitor the population’s mood and the thera have intervened where necessary. There are programs to ensure the Settler families are represented at all levels.”
“Spoken like a president’s daughter,” said Úlfrún a little too sarcastically.
Yungchen searched Úlfrún’s penetrating blue eyes with concern. “Careful, the AI will register your remarks. You might be subject to a polite investigation yourself.”
Úlfrún laughed. “The AI is a program. It sorts data according to the parameters it is set. Who do you think sets those parameters?”
“The justices have ultimate control,” objected Atang. “The AI reports; they decide.”
Úlfrún shook her head in a slightly mocking fashion. “The AI has a limited ability to interpret. It is aware that Akash Jayarama created it and programmed it. Don’t you think it might express some degree of loyalty? Maybe it sees that certain families are held in higher regard and conforms to this social expectation, allowing them greater license?”
“But that would mean that some families are held in less regard?” said Atang shaking her head in denial.
“The notion of inbuilt prejudice has been thought of before,” Yungchen responded.
“It has and some attempts have been made to counteract the tendency. But again, prejudice can be subtle. Those charged with oversight might not see the prejudice, simply because it matches their own.”
“I don’t understand what you are saying?” Atang protested.
“Just that the discovery of new worlds and the return to Earth will offer certain families and individuals opportunities they might not otherwise have had. I’m not suggesting that they necessarily see it that way, but rather that certain pathways will become open that otherwise might not have. The smart ones will naturally seize such opportunities.”
“But that can be a good thing surely,” Yungchen suggested.
“Of course, for them. But it will cause a shift in the balance of power, perhaps away from our families.”
“This is nonsense,” protested Atang. “We achieved a balance on Eden, an unprecedented period of harmony…”
“Which benefitted some more than others.”
“This is just idle speculation. What evidence do you have that this will occur?” Atang demanded.
“Very little at the moment, but I did wonder when I saw what happened on Calliope. If I were overly concerned about these matters, I’d watch the career of both Campbell and Sakamura very carefully. As these things go, they are from lesser lines. The original Campbell was a teacher and Sakamura was an agriculturalist. They just scraped through the selection process. Campbell almost never made it.”
“Are you suggesting their descendants exhibit some sort of compensatory ambition? Yungchen asked.
Úlfrún nodded. “Which may not be a bad thing.”
Just then they heard the cries of an infant growing louder. A moment later Rinzen walked into the room with a squawking child. “This one’s hungry again. I’m afraid you best get used to it girls. Their metabolism is rather demanding. Whose tit is available?”
Atang and Úlfrún held up their hands together.
“Spoiled for choice,” laughed Rinzen. “Well, she’s heavy and Atang is closest.”
Atang took the infant in her arms and guided it to her right nipple. The child instinctively grabbed for the dark, black flesh and quickly attached her mouth, sucking almost immediately. Atang grimaced with an initial burst of mild pain and then relaxed into the process.
Úlfrún leant over to look at the child and it returned her gaze with curious eyes. “So little one, I’m your auntie Úlfrún. I wonder what your witch of a mother has planned for you, eh? What part do you play in her grand plan?”
“I see you haven’t changed Ulfy. Still a cynic?” said Rinzen with motherly disapproval.
“Just a pragmatist and you know very well Tshentso is a witch. You raised her.”
“Have any of the others been confirmed?” asked Atang as she looked tenderly at the child at her breast.
“Yes, they’ll arrive when the others are born: Jindalee, Prudence and Camille,” Rinzen answered.
“It’ll be like old times,” Yungchen sighed wistfully.
“Rather proves my point though, doesn’t it?” said Úlfrún. “A Jalpirri, a Cambridge and a Sauvaterre. All descendants of Crickets or the First.”
“It’s logical,” said Yungchen dismissively. “We all know each other. It’ll create a more harmonious den.”
“Of course, I hadn’t suggested it was illogical.”
103
Nuku
She was glad to be out in the fresh air. She had enjoyed the almost constant company and the intellectual stimulation of new ideas, but she was beginning to feel overwhelmed. She craved wilderness. She needed it so she could let her prefrontal cortex rest and allow her enhanced basal ganglia to takeover. If she was to understand this ancient planet, she needed to listen to it, smell it, feel it, and the best place to do that was away from the chatter of humans. She had told Choejor she would be out walking and Choejor had kindly suggested one of the more popular walks in the mountains above the monastery. But she had decided to explore further, deviating from the well-worn track to follow a small mountain stream.
As she walked she had found the clothes she was wearing restrictive. It was cool by Eden standards but if she kept active it would be manageable. She needed to feel the air on her skin. It was just as important an organ as her sight, hearing and sense of smell. She swore she could feel subtle changes in humidity through the pores of her skin, sense how far she was from water; swore she could feel the presence of certain types of plants by variations in sensation ranging from slight itching to an almost visceral sigh of expectation as her skin sensed some soothing, healing plant. It made sense to her. Skin reacted to the environment in all sorts of ways.
She left her clothes in a pile just off the main path. She didn’t think she’d surprise a local. Choejor said they rarely entered the hills other than to forage for wild herbs and mushrooms. Besides, she was confident she’d see them long before they saw her.
Nor was she concerned about encountering dangerous wildlife. Humans had walked through these mountains for thousands of years and the most dangerous predator, the snow leopard, hunted above the snow line. Choejor had tried to spook her with tales of yetis, which she swore were real, but Nuku had read up on Himalayan wildlife and knew that if the yeti existed, it lived even higher in the mountains, in places where she would freeze to death before she could ever hope of seeing one.
So she wandered unconcerned, using all her senses to gain an intuitive grasp of her environment. She picked leaves, felt their texture, smelled their aroma and tasted their oils. When she found some wild aromatic agarwood, she peeled the bark and rubbed it over her skin. She sensed her skin humming as if it were pleased. Perhaps the wood contained medicinal properties. Perhaps this is how ancient shamans discovered the properties of plants, by paying attention to the subtle sign
als of the body, signals all to readily drowned out in the clamor and clutter of civilisation.
She felt the creature’s presence when she bent down to drink from a small creek. She didn’t react with fear, more with curiosity. Whatever it was, it was watching her at a distance, possibly because she was where it wanted to be, at the creek taking a drink. She looked up slowly to where she thought she had seen movement and in the distance saw two yellow eyes staring at her from on top of a rocky outcrop. Although it was partially hidden, she knew it was a Tibetan wolf. For a moment her rational mind reminded her that wolves were dangerous and that she should perhaps run, but the deeper recesses told her that the wolf was not hunting. Besides, she was too big and it would be unlikely to attack without the support of a pack.
Her overwhelming emotion was curiosity. She had been sent to Earth to assess its health. If the food chain was weak then the first to suffer would be the top order predators. She needed to get a closer look in order to assess the health of the beast. Her rational mind couldn’t think of a strategy but her intuition told her to wait. If the wolf was that thirsty it would weigh up the risks. If she acted in a non-threatening manner it might decide to edge closer. So she stood slowly, yawned and pissed up against a tree. Then she found a warm spot in the sun and lay down, pretending to sleep.
She felt surprisingly relaxed as she looked up into the canopy through half-opened eyes, the sunlight flickering through pine leaves in subtle motion caused by a gentle wind. She almost felt like dozing.
She sensed it when it was just a few metres away, hiding in bushes. She rolled over and stretched, then looked up. Its eyes watched her carefully: bright yellow irises that suggested a surprising intelligence, intelligence far greater than any species on Eden. Suddenly she was not afraid. Her face relaxed and she smiled. The wolf seemed to respond. It blinked and licked its lips. Was it communicating that it was thirsty? She blinked in response and then rolled onto her back in a passive position, pretending to be unconcerned. She heard the gentle rustle of leaves and a slurping sound. She rolled over onto her stomach and watched the wolf lapping at the water. When it finished it turned slowly and met her gaze. It dropped to its haunches and gently wagged its tail.
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