The Best of All Possible Worlds

by Karen Lord

  “So,” I asked her at the office when she set up the first theater visits, “what’s the playbill for this trip?”

  “Grease: The Space Musical, Titus Andronicus, and that new monologue by Li Chen where he first spends ten minutes crisscrossing the stage in silence, then sits in a Bagua-inspired design in the center and periodically plays the Uilleann pipes.”

  “Aie-yi-yi,” I yodeled mournfully. “Do you want them to judge us?”

  “They’ll judge us anyway. They’re Sadiri, and we’re Terran—well, mostly Terran. Judging other humans and finding them wanting is what the Sadiri do.” She was quite unperturbed about it.

  At first I said nothing. Strictly speaking, it was true. The Sadiri and their fleet of mindships had been the backbone of galactic law, diplomacy, and scientific discovery for centuries. Even though other humans slightly resented them, I knew I wasn’t the only one who quietly hoped that the pared-down version of their government would be just as effective at running the fleet. On a personal level, I hadn’t noticed a judging attitude from Dllenahkh, but when one considered that their home planet was poisoned by their own close cousins, the Ainya, well, they didn’t have that much high ground to stand on to look down at others anymore, did they? Before I could voice that thought, there was a polite cough at my door.

  “Dalenak!” Gilda said in cheery greeting. How did Dllenahkh manage not to wince at the woman’s atrocious pronunciation? “Are you here for the inaugural trip?”

  Dllenahkh thanked her courteously and said no, he had but come to consult me regarding the matter of the hydroponics on the homesteads of the southwestern quarter, which had been experiencing some difficulty. She took the hint and her leave so that I could close the door and speak to Dllenahkh in privacy.

  “I thought lying wasn’t a Sadiri thing,” I began. Then I looked at him more closely. “Dllenahkh? Who hit you?”

  “It is an internal matter, already resolved,” he said.

  I frowned, but there was nothing I could say to that. “You seem”—depressed—“distracted. What’s brought you to town if it’s not Gilda’s entertainment tour?”

  “There is a visiting emissary from the Government of New Sadira. We have a meeting scheduled for tomorrow.”

  That still didn’t explain why Dllenahkh was in my office. “Would you like to come with me to the Museum of History?” I said.

  “Yes,” he acquiesced somewhat absently. “That would be quite interesting.”

  We walked there. I kept silent, waiting for Dllenahkh to talk to me.

  He waited until we had passed the geological displays and entered the Hall of Names before breaking into speech. “Do you know why we came to Cygnus Beta?” he asked.

  I glanced at him. His eyes were staring straight ahead at the writing etched on the granite walls.

  “We came to find the taSadiri.” He turned his head very slightly and looked at me. “Do you know of whom I speak?”

  “Sadiri who do not practice the mental disciplines,” I replied immediately. “They left Sadira and founded Ain, and a few settled elsewhere in the galaxy. But they did not found Cygnus Beta. It was already here.”

  “I have heard of the beings you call the Caretakers.” He said it neutrally, and I was glad for the small courtesy. Some people think the idea of the Caretakers is just another one of those savior-guardian myths that primitive societies dream up to deal with the uncertainty of the universe.

  “Yes,” I said firmly, “they are the true founders of Cygnus Beta, but we acknowledge other early settlers—mostly Terrans, it’s true, but also Ntshune, Zhinuvians, and taSadiri.”

  “There are strong psionic and proto-psionic strains in your ancestry,” he noted. “That was another one of the reasons we chose to come here.”

  I wondered where this was going. “So what’s wrong, Dllenahkh?”

  He struggled. Clearly these were very private matters. “There is a lack of consensus concerning our path. Securing the future of our people is, of course, the primary concern, but the way this can best be achieved is in dispute. Some feel that preserving genetic and cultural integrity would be the most effective course of action. With so few of us surviving, every person would be needed for this endeavor to succeed. Others believe that negotiation with the Ainya with a view to eventual integration of our tribes is the best option.”

  “But perhaps that was their reason for … doing what they did,” I said awkwardly. “They’ve never had your level of galactic influence. Wouldn’t integration be kind of like giving them what they want?”

  He paused. “Yes,” he said at last. “Many of us hold the same view. However, from the Ainya perspective, we drove out their forefathers and denied them their birthright; hence their pride in claiming responsibility for our downfall. Perhaps they wish to see us not merely humiliated but destroyed completely.”

  He sighed and continued. “A third way has been proposed: colonies of hybrids selected for Sadiri physical traits and mental abilities and raised according to Sadiri values and traditions.”

  A wry smile twitched my lips. Terrans: the chicken stock of every human genetic soup in the galaxy. Terra was the newest of the crafted worlds and Terrans the youngest breed of humans in the galaxy, but what they lacked in technology and mental development, they made up for in sheer evolutionary potential. Other humans patronized them and overlooked them, but just mention hybrid vigor and suddenly Terrans became very popular. Of course, since Terra itself was still under embargo, that meant Cygnus Beta got all the attention.

  “So,” I asked him, “which Sadiri are you? The second way or the third way?”

  His face went still in that manner I had come to interpret as profound uncertainty. “No decision has as yet been made. We are a reserve.”

  I tilted my head and frowned at him, confused.

  His eyes glanced briefly at mine, and then he blinked and looked aside again as if acutely embarrassed. “As many of our off-planet occupations are filled by men, more Sadiri males survived the disaster than females. This has created some … disruption to our usual bonding customs. For this reason, the excess of males was sent to this colony. The Science Council of New Sadira will as a priority select for a greater number of females to be born as soon as possible. Given our life span, it is possible that they may be our future wives.”

  I pondered this, realizing the truth of what he said. Most of the Sadiri on Cygnus Beta were, by their standards, very young. But how distressing and strange to spend decades on some kind of genetic backroom shelf waiting one’s turn to clinically contribute to the expansion of the species!

  I said something of the sort to Dllenahkh. He let me know my views were inappropriate. I shut up.

  The Hall of Names is a very complicated place. The obvious part of it is the walls with the names of the thousand dying nations who came here or were brought here, but there is also a low susurration of a thousand extinct languages; the occasional whiff of smoke, incense, or perfume from various half-forgotten rituals; the distant moan and skirl of ancient instruments that no one knows how to make anymore. It’s a very apt place to ponder the future of an entire world, but it’s a little depressing as well.

  “What do you think the emissary is going to say?” I asked.

  Dllenahkh said nothing. Perhaps he did not know. Perhaps he knew but would never tell me.

  “Let’s go have lunch,” I said.

  We fell back into our usual routine after that, which is to say we were all business. I knew that the Sadiri homesteaders continued their cultural outreach, visiting the towns and other provinces and permitting visiting groups in return. They did indeed seem to be taking note of how various cultures had adapted to social conditions on Cygnus Beta, so even what appeared to be recreational also had some element of anthropological study to it. I did not delve deeper, and although the Sadiri emissary returned for another visit some months later, I did not quiz Dllenahkh about it.

  Gilda, on the other hand, was a font of information.
She called me at my desk one day, too excited and impatient to walk the few meters to my office. “Have you heard the news? Ain has been quarantined. Nothing goes in, nothing comes out.”

  That got my attention. I dropped everything and drew close to my monitor. “What? Has the tribunal given the verdict already?”

  Gilda looked very sober, which was extremely unusual for her. “The trial isn’t over, but Ain is incommunicado.”

  “That’s impossible,” I stated. “The Terran embargo works because we can see everything they do and show them what we want them to see. Ain’s technology is too advanced. Maybe they did it to themselves. Maybe they’re hiding.”

  She scoffed. “They’re not that advanced. People are saying it was the Caretakers. Personally, I’m glad. Sadira’s going to be nothing but sterile rock for a very long time.”

  My eyes widened, and I felt a little thrill. The Caretakers! It was as if angels had descended to avenge the Sadiri. “I guess they don’t like people undoing their work. How are the off-planet Ainya handling it?”

  Gilda gave a wry smile. “Here’s the irony. You know only two fleets have ships that can travel as far as Ain.”

  I laughed without humor. She meant the Zhinuvians, who’d charge an arm and a leg for passage, and the Sadiri who … well … I wasn’t sure what they’d do, but any Ainya would have to have a lot of gall to approach a Sadiri pilot now.

  The sequestering of Ain was a big change in more ways than one. Even though there’s bad blood between Ain and Sadira—seriously bad blood—I’d had a vague hope that they might come together after a generation or two out of necessity if nothing else. It looked as if the options had been whittled down from three to two, and where that left the Sadiri I had no idea. New Sadira was a small planet, a former science outpost that had gained an unexpected promotion. It would serve for a drastically diminished population, but as it had neither the resources nor the size to replace Sadira properly, the Sadiri would be forced to make a decision about their future sooner rather than later.

  It was difficult to tell what they were planning to do. Some of the Sadiri were definitely mingling—in fact, given their youth, one might even say experimenting. I detected from the sternness of Dllenahkh’s expression when some of the more amusing tales were related in his vicinity that the elder Sadiri of the group were barely tolerant of this behavior, but what could they do? Kick the youngsters out? Every Sadiri capable of procreation was precious, and any of them could be brought back into the fold later no matter how they might now be choosing to deal with their shared tragedy.

  That said, about a couple of months shy of a year after their arrival I found myself in the unenviable position of being mandated by my boss to “find out what’s going on with those Sadiri.” I chose a long road trip to broach the topic with Dllenahkh, reasoning that if we were driving through the middle of nowhere, he wouldn’t have any place to escape to. To give myself a level of protection, I turned off the autopilot and nav and drove the groundcar myself.

  “I understand there’s been a bit of a Sadiri baby boom,” I said delicately, keeping my eyes on the road as I maneuvered through freshly gouged potholes, the result of a strong start to the rainy season.

  Dllenahkh’s teeth clicked as we bounced through a bad patch. “It does appear that way,” he said eventually with clenched jaws.

  “Is this an indication—?” I started, and then said, “Does this mean a way has been chosen?”

  The silence continued for long enough that I regretfully concluded that I’d pushed my luck too far. Then Dllenahkh spoke, sounding slightly injured. “Little choice has been offered where these births are concerned. Three of the fathers have been unable to obtain anything more than visiting rights, while a fourth has been charged with sole custody. Two are in a particularly difficult situation—their children have been acknowledged by other men and are being raised with no recognition of their heritage. In only one case has there been the formation of something resembling a bond, and that man has requested to move to the homestead of his child’s mother, there to live, no doubt, according to the culture of her people.”

  I whistled. Added to the other stories I’d heard, those were more births and far fewer marriages than I had expected.

  “So, you’re telling me you’re being fetishized, used, and dumped. Good enough to sleep with but not good enough to marry. Fresh blood. The new kink in town. The—”

  “Your observations,” said Dllenahkh quietly but quellingly, “are not particularly welcome at this moment.”

  I felt genuinely ashamed. “Sorry. I got a bit carried away. The thing is, we’ve always been a matriarchal society. Cygnian fathers have little say in decisions about child rearing. I thought you realized that.”

  We continued in silence while I focused on a nasty bit of road slippage. At one stage, Dllenahkh had to get out and push the car through a slurry of fine limestone before it could find purchase once more on firm ground. He got back in, placing his caked work boots on the center of the mat with fastidious precision. It had been a trivial but welcome diversion, easing some of the tension from the atmosphere.

  My thoughts wandered as I tried to think of what to say, and then, of course, my subconscious took over. “Dark they were, and golden-eyed,” I quoted dreamily.

  “The reference escapes me.”

  “It’s a classic work of fiction about Terrans who go to colonize Mars. Except Mars colonizes them. It turns them into dark, golden-eyed Martians who exactly resemble the extinct indigenous people. I’m telling you, if you think you can colonize Cygnus Beta and turn it into Sadira, centuries later all you’ll have is a slight tendency to shiny hair and pedantic speech in the common Cygnian stock. Oh, Dllenahkh, I am so sorry. I tried to warn you.”

  “I do not recall—”

  This was too serious for multitasking. I pulled aside, turned off the groundcar, and faced him fully. “I asked you what you wanted in the long term. Do you want to be all-Sadiri or Sadiri-Cygnian? Because if the former’s your aim, you’re going about it the wrong way.”

  His head dropped wearily, which is as close as a Sadiri can get to a wail of anguish. “I do not know what we want. We wish only to survive, and we are trying all possible means to do so.”

  I closed my eyes, struck by a pang of loneliness. If I can tease Gilda about having a dominant Zhinuvian gene in her makeup, then I must also admit that there might be a little too much Ntshune in my own background, an occasional echo of emotions not my own. And Dllenahkh was lonely, no mistake. It poured off him like mist and settled into my bones with a pain as insistent as the ache of an old injury. It was most upsetting.

  “All right. You need to coordinate with the Ministry of Family Planning and Maintenance. But Dllenahkh, you have to come clean; none of this juvenile—sorry, culturally conditioned—embarrassment over the details of Sadiri marriage and bonding customs and no underhanded plots to seduce and indoctrinate women into the Sadiri way of life. Be up-front. I mean, you have chosen the right place. We’ve already got a mail-order-bride mentality, and we’ve been selecting for fecundity for centuries. How many other places could produce so many births in such a short space of time?”

  “This is true,” said Dllenahkh with what sounded like a glimmer of hope.

  “Plus, you could have it both ways: take a short-lived Cygnian wife for the first part of that long life of yours, then go home to your girl-brides and start a fresh full-blooded family. Just be … respectful. Honest. And stop thinking you’re the superior ones! You’re just another drop in our gene pool! We’re all descended from peoples who thought they were kings and gods and who found themselves to be almost nothing at all in the end. Don’t let that be you.”

  He sat in chastened silence for a while, then said humbly, “There is merit in what you say. I will discuss the possibilities with our local council and approach the ministry as you have suggested.”

  I exhaled in relief. If only they knew how close they had come to wearing out our
patience. If there is one thing a Cygnian cannot bear, it’s the stench of superiority. Too often it had been a precursor to atrocity and a rationale for oppression. The Sadiri wouldn’t change overnight, but at least it was a start.

  “Dark you are, and golden-eyed,” Dllenahkh said quietly.

  “My eyes are brown,” I replied, puzzled to hear a Sadiri say something so nonsensical.

  “I understand that on Terra gold is considered a rare and precious metal. To be golden is to be special, cherished.” He looked at me. “To me, your eyes are golden, because they have perceived who we truly are.”

  I said nothing. I opened my mouth, failed to breathe, and lowered my eyes from that intense gaze. It hurt too much, like bright sun on tender skin, bright and searing with the beauty of both what had been lost and what remained. For a moment, the blood of my ancestors called out in empathy, and I almost embarrassed myself by crying in front of a Sadiri.

  I bit my lip, took hold of myself, and the moment passed. Then I started the car, and we traveled on to the next distant homestead.

  MATCHMAKER, MATCHMAKER

  “What’s this?”

  The department secretary/courier glanced back at the envelope he had tossed onto my desk. “How would I know?”

  I looked him up and down. Gilroy was a gawky youngster, too tall yet still growing and plagued with a limp, the result of a bad break on a distant homestead days out from the reach of advanced medical care. He poured all the energy that should have been spent punching cattle into gossiping—sorry, gathering intelligence. I picked up the envelope and twirled the ends of the ribbons on the seal, all the while staring at him meaningfully.

  “Well … all right.” He gave his usual precursor to a juicy scoop: a quick glance around to make sure no one could overhear. “I understand that you’ve made a good impression on someone, and you’re going to have a slight change in duties.”