‘When that time comes, we can get your horse back and ride together, you and I and explore the Corha-Rhí.’
‘I doubt we will have time.’
‘I will make sure we have time!’ Kíe’arathorne let his charming smile spread across his face, one that Shayne had come to recognise as cunning. Shayne left the journeyman to settle in his new home, making his way back to other duties. Later in the day as he and the Starborns patrolled he saw the transporter leave, with the UeVarda and his guard returning to their home.
Chapter 12
Tournament
“All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.”
- George Orwell
As the days slipped passed the Earthmen found that more than a month had passed by. The settlement had returned to a typical routine. The region adopted its name of New Switzerland as a running joke from the Wayel-Éaa colony. The city itself still remained unnamed with people typically calling it: settlement, colony and landing, though Thorns Basin was still being thrown around despite it not being a basin. Trade between other nations commenced with their ox-drawn trains tracking across the brand new road.
With trade came experimental farms to grow and test local food. The rocky and bare earth meant it would be at least a year before they could graze livestock. The scientists eagerly set about their tasks; from agriculture to zoology; all pursuing their work with great vigour. Many ventured out to the new world under their hosts’ supervision. Fancying themselves as adventurers and explorers they would trek and fly out to study the flora and fauna. Slowly a catalogue was developed with more scientists moving further and further out: to find new regions and species, to learn other customs and find new treasures to document, and as the Earthmen’ specialists ventured outwards the natives ventured in.
Hopeful ambassadors flocked in with their letters of recommendation. Some were rejected after they failed to comply with what the Earthmen expected: being too old or unfit to learn what was required, and having pets which were strictly forbidden for space travel reasons. Some nations sent more candidates than agreed upon in the hope they would receive better representation; despite the Earthmen clearly indicating that no one nation was to send more than four applicants. The administration was forced to choose which candidates from the over-represented countries could stay, while those rejected were forced to return to their homes disappointed. It was a difficult and unpleasant task that should never have occurred in the first place.
The ambassadorship classes did not start officially until two weeks after Kíe’arathorne’s arrival. He spent most of that on language lessons with Hanniver and Shayne and practicing his bow craft, which he had neglected over the past few months due to the Earthmen’s arrival. When he was with the Brigadier they would also talk about music; he taught Kíe’arathorne how to play the piano, while the journeyman in return taught him to play native songs on his eight stringed guitar. Hanniver marvelled at how similar it was to the Earthmen version and found a classical guitar to compare, which evolved into a semi science interest between different stringed instrument designs.
Kíe’arathorne also began his classes as a teacher, which was part of his arrangement for ambassador training. Two classes were set up for him, one to teach the common language; both spoken and written and the other class was to teach native law. Kíe’arathorne loved to teach and thrived in the role. He also organised religion teachings, where he taught about their faith: dragons, lions and wizards and often entertained in the university public rooms where people would come and listen to him. The other native students who moved in also brought with them their various instruments. As they settled in they joined in the music gatherings which eventually evolved into a formal music styled teaching program at the end of each week, as was their custom. The weekly event also attracted some Earthmen musicians who performed with them. Over all their presences created a much happier colony and their integration was almost seamless.
Outside the normal routine Shayne and the journeyman had private lessons together. Sometimes they met in Shayne’s new apartment and other times, when they did not want to be overheard, they walked the border of the township. Kíe’arathorne was picking up on more and more English and used it every chance he had. The journeyman was also teaching Shayne to write in the common language and on their walks he taught him to speak the sacred Kadalian language. When the scholar was proficient enough in English they began their physics lessons. He was extremely quick with practicals such as Newton’s laws and had a decent mind for mathematics, but there was a lot to teach him and he did not hold the perfect memory that Shayne did. One-on-one tutorage made it a faster process than a group. So long as he could picture it in his mind he could master it rather quickly.
The beginning of official classes brought with it an excitement in the new town. Most of the natives were very pleasant people, selected for their intelligence and their charisma. They mingled happily with the Earthmen, especially the human natives who treated them as long lost cousins. Any apprehension faded as the days passed and they formed their friendships and their rivalries. If agendas were played between the students, they were well hidden. Kíe’arathorne was amongst the youngest, yet he held more experience than many of the others due to his time with the colonists. There was a certain amount of reverence towards him; as the one who found the Afra’hama and guided the sky Ta’Orians from the forest, but there was also jealousy and rivalry. Many believed that he would be selected regardless, due to his achievements and connections already established.
Most of the students were trained as scholars, wearing the blue robes of the teachers. They ranked from fully qualified journeymen, with the exception of Kíe’arathorne, to experienced masters who wore their golden clasps and insignia upon their long robed shrouds. The others that were not of the academic ranks were vouched for in other areas. These people came from the more distant places, where they had no official Teaching Halls. Most selected from these realms worked for current ambassadors or other areas where their character was desired.
There were not many lionmen present, much to the Earthmen’s disappointment. Most were not willing or interested in the offer and remained behind. The few who did take up the offer were like Kíe’arathorne in that they held an unusual sense of adventure for their species. There were no Nakádanese Lionmen at all. They treated the Earthmen as any other people who were not within their small local sphere, they delegated their ambassadorship to both the humans from Isradia as their nearest neighbours, and the Bohanese Lionmen as their closest kin.
All of the students underwent a basic medical. The hospital’s first wing was constructed a week earlier and while word for the seriously sick was sent throughout Dífrun, the students were all treated. The hospital also sought knowledge of viruses and diseases, opening their research labs ready to study and create cures. The mass production of antibiotics was underway and they organised trips to improve the basic state of health. The road to immunisation was a long one and they always told the recipients that they would require time to help with some of the issues. As the sick came in and were treated a database of lionmen and native human genetics were being compiled; recording data and differences. This held a lot of interest; to know the aliens from the inside, to track their origin and understand their existence, but not only that, every world which has humans present are definable by small differences in DNA, and its theorised that if humans did once rule the stars, or some kind of alien creator made them, then they could possibly map the changes in DNA back to a point of origin. It is a long bet, there is too much confusion and mystery as to how the universe is littered with the same genetic structure, from the same primordial history with some species sharing the same DNA yet mingled amongst them species distantly related but independently evolved. On top of humans they finally had the lionmen, the first “other” intelligence, and curiosity was widespread as to where these aliens stand. The leaders of the colony gave them time to make some level of assessme
nt before they all came together in an unofficial and off the record meeting.
‘What do we know about the Lion-people?’ Canoth Eastman came and sat with the dean of Medicine as others entered the office, taking their seats.
‘Well,’ the man deliberately paused. He maintained his usual professional manner with the only signs of curiosity being the twinkle in his eyes, ‘they’re closely related to us with 23 paired chromosomes; normal lions have 19, but they also have strong lion genetics that dominates some of the more human-ish genes. It’s a rather odd mesh of code with more than just lion within them, it’s a bit like a jigsaw puzzle, but made up of five different puzzles, very odd.’
Professor Juskin, the head of alien anthropology studies leaned forward, ‘Did they co-evolve from a Lion ancestor as we did with an ape ancestor?’
‘No,’ the doctor shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. Their DNA is a spliced artist board of several creatures; as if bits were taken from both the lion and the human and bam, a lionman.’
‘They’re engineered?’ Canoth looked across at the Doctor in disbelief.
The Doctor sighed, ‘I don’t know, possibly. It certainly looks that way, but the gene pool is too small to speculate.’
‘They’re able to interbreed,’ Hanniver added. ‘Their forefather; Tain, had a human wife as well as Lion wives. They believe the hybrid children of Tain ventured over the mountains and founded Bohaníde.’
‘That’s always a possibility,’ the doctor agreed. ‘The genetics are certainly compatible.’
‘You mean those lionmen from Nakáda are pure lionmen?’ someone else asked. Hanniver shrugged and the first anthropologist came back to the conversation.
‘Highly unlikely, if they can interbreed than I’d imagine the entire gene pool was contaminated. If they’d spread out like humans have I might’ve believed there were isolated communities, but I don’t think so.’
‘Humans aren’t allowed to live in Nakáda,’ Hanniver answered. ‘Not even their closest allies, it’s been like that for thousands of years.’
‘Genetic purity,’ Juskin mused.
‘Are the eastern lionmen allowed?’ Williams was curious.
‘No idea,’ Hanniver admitted. ‘I was only told about humans.’
‘What’s the chance of getting the sick ones from Nakáda here?’ the dean asked.
‘Buckley’s if you ask me,’ Hanniver replied his eyes turning to the general. ‘You saw what they were like at the meeting.’
‘It’s a shame, maybe one day,’ the doctor looked disappointed.
‘It’s all we can ask for.’
‘We’ll never cure common viruses if they insist on separation.’
‘You think virus’ can jump species?’ The general’s grey eyes lingered on the dean.
‘The genetics are close enough to. When I say we’re close I mean these guys are more closely related to us then a chimpanzee: closer than a dog to a wolf.’
‘I guess this means no real aliens,’ the anthropologist sighed.
‘Still an interesting study, the implications are far greater than anything we’ve considered, and on top of that we have the dune lizards!’
‘I can’t help but wonder. One must ask; if they’re engineered then who engineered them?’
They went on to discuss the possible biology of the indigenous populations. After a few minutes of enduring biochemistry jargon, the three star-rank officers took their leave and made their way back to the base. They spoke amongst themselves until they reached the guardhouse where a soldier greeted them with a salute and handed a golden letter to the general.
Hendingson took the letter; his face suspiciously glanced at the private. He went to open it but at seeing the alien language printed in formal black characters he curled his face up and sighed, ‘Where’s a droid when you need one?’
They made their way through the administration building to his office, his personal assistant android already alert and waiting. It was a nicely spaced room; the inside held only the very basics of a military installation, the lack of any personalisation a reflection of their circumstances, but there was one luxury; a landscape painting behind his desk by a well-known Mars artist. He handed the letter to his assistant droid while he and the other two soldiers sat down. The android opened read the formal letter that invited Shayne, the officers and all the members of the initial expedition party to the tournament.
‘The seventh byemyth? When is that?’ Danto Williams scowled.
‘Thursday’ Hanniver replied before the robot, pleased that his native education was paying off. ‘Tomorrow,’ he corrected when he realised the date.
‘Tomorrow?’ Hendingson choked.
‘They did tell us,’ Hanniver retorted. ‘Several times.’
‘Brigadier,’ Danto softly replied. ‘We were hoping to accidentally forget.’
‘Because you despise the Starborn is not justification for “conveniently forgetting,” especially when that forgetfulness concerns the planet’s emperor!’
‘I treat the Starborn for what he is, none of this pandering experiment rubbish.’
‘And what you think he is, is not what he really is, isn’t it!?’
‘No, you’re right!’ Williams snapped with anger in his voice, the two accents sounding through the room. ‘He is dangerous! He’ll kill someone one day and I’ll blame you!’ He shoved his finger into the Brigadier’s chest, both men now standing and ready to pound the other flat.
‘Gentlemen!’ the general’s tired New American accent broke through.
‘I’m deadly serious, Thorn!’ Williams turned to his commanding officer.
‘So you keep repeating yourself, over and over,’ Hanniver replied, his tone much less severe but still cynical.
‘Because I’m terrified that one day it will happen!’ he insisted. ‘And we keep giving him autonomy?’
‘He’s sanctioned under Astronaut law,’ the general put his elbows on the table before him and rubbed his temples as he looked down at the letter, ‘and the locals will riot if we do anything to him.’
‘So what, who gives a damn about the space rats? It’s all just smoke and mirrors with them anyway; they’re all words and no actions. I don’t see why we don’t just knock them down a few pegs where they belong! For all we know they’ve already collapsed and we’re rid of their gorram treaties.’
‘Your hatred for the Starborn has stunted your ability to use your brain,’ the Brigadier mocked. ‘Regardless of Astronaut intervention, there’s still the natives and they worship him!’
‘And after a time they will get over it. We can easily hold out for ten years against them, especially out here. They’ll tire of him eventually and see him for what he really is.’
‘You just don’t get it,’ Hanniver laughed. ‘They think he will save them from us!’
‘All the more reason to stop him now!’ he raised his voice again as he banged his hand on the table.
‘And what? Fulfil their damn prophecies at the same time?’
‘How can locking him up cause our extermination? Even if their entire world marched against us we would still win!’
‘And the lionmen would be wiped out to the very last one!’ Hanniver barked back, ‘because that’s their way. There is no compromise, there is no stalemate. If they can’t win then they would march to their deaths, and that includes their women and their children. They would spill their own blood rather than watch us invade!’ The air-vice marshal’s eyes narrowed at Hanniver but he could not think of anything to say without repeating himself. The man was right, but he knew he was right too.
‘If the Lions don’t bow to compromise than we shouldn’t either,’ he finally said with an air of restraint.
Hanniver fell back into his chair. He looked up at the Air Force leader, ‘What can we do?’
The general looked up at the two; his old grey eyes thoughtful. Williams also sat down as Hendingson began to speak, ‘I’ve asked myself many times; while studying old co
lonisations. What’s the biggest failure of worship? I don’t mean worship of something you cannot see, but of something you can see!’ the general straightened himself in his seat, holding his hands in front of himself. ‘My conclusion is exposure; exposure is what destroyed those in the past. The more they see the Starborn the more they will discover he’s not a prophet. The assassination attempt proved there’s already discontent,’ Danto gave half a laugh at the thought of the plot; he was disappointed that it had failed.
‘I don’t know if that’d work, plenty of old prophets in our history changed their stance as they grew old and their followers still followed, logic states time is a prophet’s enemy, but humans have always had a knack of proving logic wrong, and on top of that, I still don’t think this will work,’ confessed the Brigadier. ‘I don’t think this is god worship or anything like that, I think it’s something else.’
‘What is it then?’ Williams replied leaning back into the seat, making himself comfortable.
‘I’ve no idea,’ Hanniver raised his hands in admission, ‘but there’s something different in it, something I can’t explain.’
‘Like this Maltat theory?’ the general replied.
‘You wanna test that theory? Simply shoot one of their pets and see if they turn into a dribbling vegetable.’ If the atmosphere of the room was not so low they might have laughed at the air vice-marshals dry humour.
‘And the Starborn has not commented upon it at all?’ the general looked concerned.
‘I think,’ Hanniver spoke carefully, ‘that he’s unsure himself.’
‘You mean the Starborn believes in animal souls?’ Williams snorted at the ridiculous notion of a Starborn being superstitious.
Hanniver shook his head at this, ‘No, he can’t develop a scientific theory either way, so he refuses to commit.’
‘The very thought is ludicrous!’ Williams dismissed with a flick of his wrist.
The Book of Ominiue: Starborn Page 36