by Sarah Zettel
“Good luck, Ambassador D’seun.” P’tesk raised his hands. “Is there news?”
D’seun touched his engineers’ hands. “Engineer P’tesk, Engineer T’oth. There is news, but not all of it is good. Let us return to the test base, and then I can tell our people all at once.”
As often as he had done it, it was strange to D’seun to fly over the naked crust without even a scrap of canopy to cover it. He could barely taste the life base they had seeded the winds with. He imagined sometimes that this was not a newly emerging world, but a prophecy as to what Home might become—lifeless stone and ash sculpted by sterile winds.
So it will be if T’sha has her way.
Their base was little more than a few shells tethered together with half a dozen infant cortex boxes to nurture the necessary functions. Not comfortable or companionable, but it served its function, as they all did.
“Team Seven,” D’seun called through his headset, “this is Ambassador D’seun. We are gathering in the analysis chamber. I have word of the latest vote from the High Law Meet.”
Like the rest of the base, the analysis chamber was strictly functional. The undecorated walls showed the shell’s natural pearl and purple colors. Separate caretaker units, all holding their specialized cortex boxes, had been grown into the shell. That and a few perches were all there was to the room.
D’seun, T’odi, and P’tesk arrived to find T’stad and Kr’ath already waiting for them. They all wished each other luck as the others filtered in. D’seun’s gaze swept the assembly—his assembly, his team who had worked so hard to prove the worth of their world. He laid claim to them all, and if that was greedy of him, so be it. After so much work and so many promises, he had earned the right to be a little greedy.
“Where is Engineer Br’sei?” D’seun asked.
The others glanced around the chamber, as if just now noticing Br’sei was gone.
“Engineer Br’sei?” he asked his headset.
After a brief pause, Engineer Br’sei’s voice came back. “I’m at Living Highland 45, Ambassador. I’ll listen in over the headset. I have to check the stability of the base seeding here. I think we may be running into some trouble from the high salt content of these lavas.”
“Then listen closely.” D’seun raised his voice to speak to the entire assembly. “The ambassadors to the High Law Meet have voted. This world, our world, is declared New Home!”
All around him, voices trilled high, fluting notes of jubilation. D’seun let them enjoy. They had all worked so hard. Thousands of dodec-hours of observation and analysis. Millions of adjustments in proportion and organization on the most basic levels. Sometimes it felt as though each molecule had been hand reared. But they had made their promise to the whole of the People, and they had kept it. Life could be made to thrive here in these alien winds.
“That is not all the news, however,” D’seun said, cutting through their celebration. He waited until the last echoes of their chaotic song died away. “Something new has happened on Home.”
All their attention was on him, and he told them about Gaith. For the first time there was no danger of interference from T’sha, and he could tell what had really happened. An entire village had died an indescribable death in such pain as life should never know. It had happened in a few hours. A life the villagers thought they knew, a life they had grown and cherished for thousands of years, had gone insane. Insane as it was, it would turn on other life until nothing was left but a mantle of death surrounding the entire world.
When he was finished, not one of them remained their normal size. They all huddled close to their perches and close to each other, small and tight, as if they could draw their skin in far enough to shut his words out.
“I know the dangers of haste,” he said at last. “I was taught, as you all were, that haste is equal to greed as a bringer of death. But this time, to be cautious is to die. This new rot will not wait for us to make our careful plans.”
Soft whistles of agreement filled the room. D’seun let himself swell, just a tiny bit. “There are those who do not understand this, however. There are those among the ambassadors who insist that we wait. For what? I ask. Until our cities all fall? No, they reply. Until we are sure Of the New People.”
Silence. The New People. No one liked the mention of them. The New People might be poison, and everyone here felt that in every pore.
Time to remove that poison. “We are all concerned about the New People. We have watched them as closely as we are able. You have labored with great care to understand their transmissions to each other and their commands to their tools. You have spoken to me in a straightforward fashion, as dedicated engineers should, about the fragility of life and the resources of community and the claim of life upon its own home. But I must ask you other questions now.”
D’seun focused his attention completely on P’tesk. “P’tesk, have we found any new life here? Any life we did not ourselves spread?”
“No, Ambassador,” said P’tesk. “Except for our life base, the winds are clean. The living highlands do not really measure up to that name—none of the ones we’ve observed anyway.”
“T’vosh.” D’seun switched his focus to the youngest engineer. “Have we seen signs of mining or sifting for the hard elements?”
“No, Ambassador,” T’vosh answered quickly. “And among the transmissions, we have heard no plans for such.”
“No plans that we understand.”
The last was spoken by Tr’es. D’seun did not let himself swell in frustration. It was a good point. Besides, Tr’es’s birth city was Ca’aed, as was T’sha’s. She would have to be handled carefully in the time to come.
“None that we understand, yes.” D’seun dipped his muzzle. “Our understanding is far from perfect. Our ability to separate image and message and tool command is not complete, although we have made great strides. The New People may be making plans for legitimate use of this world.” His gaze swept the assembly. “But they have not done it yet. When has a mere plan, an unfulfilled intent, ever been grounds to withhold a resource?” He let them think about that for a minute. “Most importantly”—he spread his wings wide—“nothing has prevented them from detecting the life base. Nothing has prevented them from finding us. They have made no move to challenge our claims or to contact us as one family contacts another when there is a dispute over resources.” Let those words sink through their pores; let their minds turn that over. “There is nothing, nothing, in the laws of life and balance which prevents us from moving forward and laying legitimate claim to this empty, pure world.”
Whistles of agreement, notes of encouragement bathed D’seun. This would work. He had them convinced. “Despite this, for reasons of her own, the ambassador of Ca’aed”—he glanced at Tr’es—“is doing all she can to delay the transformation of this world, and she is citing the presence of the New People as her reason.”
Tr’es was not intimidated, not yet. “How could she do otherwise?” Tr’es asked. “They are here. Ambassador T’sha is both cautious and pious.”
“Ambassador T’sha has acquired the body of Gaith Village for the people of Ca’aed,” replied D’seun. “She has indentured all Gaith’s engineers to the resurrection of the village. She hopes to exact many promises for herself and her city, even while the new rot spreads on the winds.”
Silence, deep and shocked, filled the chamber, broken only by the slight rustling as the engineers inflated and deflated uneasily.
“Surely there is a misunderstanding,” stammered Tr’es. “This cannot be the stated goal.”
“It is not the stated goal,” said D’seun softly. “But. I fear it is the true goal. I grieve with you and your city, Engineer Tr’es, but power has turned many a soul sour. This is why the teachers warn us so stringently against greed. Through greed we turn the very needs of life against each other.”
Tr’es covered her eyes with her wing in confusion and denial. D’seun said nothing, just let the silence
settle in ever more deeply. At last, Tr’es lifted her muzzle. “What are we to do?”
D’seun felt satisfaction form deep in his bones. “Ambassador T’sha is coming here herself to inspect the claims of the New People. We must make sure she is given no reason to doubt that this world is free for us to use.” He focused his attention on each of his engineers in turn. “She must have no opportunity to question what we do here.” He pulled his muzzle back and drew in his wings. “I will make no move without your agreement. You are not indentured, and I do not lead without consensus. We will take a poll now. Vote as your soul’s understanding moves you. Let me hear from those in agreement.”
One by one, his engineers whistled their assent. Even Tr’es whistled agreement, low but strong.
“I thank you,” said D’seun softly. “Soon, all your families will have cause to thank you as well. We can move forward with our work now, without doubt or hindrance. Enjoy, my friends. Soon promises will be made in your names and on the backs of your skills.”
More wordless songs of delight and triumph rang out. D’seun swelled to his fullest extent to take in every note and nuance. It was then he realized that his headset had remained silent. Br’sei had not added his vote.
Sudden suspicion flowed into him. “To work, to work, my colleagues, my friends. We do not have time to waste!”
His happy words sent them all scattering to their tasks. Not one of them commented as he flew out into the clear air to claim a kite. He too had work to do, and they were all aware of it.
Right now, his work was to find Engineer Br’sei.
Br’sei glided around the side of the living highland. His bones tightened nervously, barely allowing him the lift he needed to fly, even down here in the thick air near the crust.
You are being ridiculous. He forced himself to relax and gained a little height. You have grown things that are a thousand times more terrifying than these New People.
But nothing stranger.
In truth, he was here only because Ambassador D’seun demurred every single time Br’sei suggested they place close surveillance on the New People. D’seun worried about being seen, about the New People raising a peremptory challenge to their presence if they were seen. The ambassador seemed completely disinterested in the New People’s explorations of the crust. Even now, when their activities had increased so markedly.
If the New People had a legitimate claim on this world, it could be disastrous, but it must be known. Br’sei listened to D’seun’s stirring words through his headset and heard the enthusiastic agreement of his colleagues. Grim silence settled within him. D’seun spoke, D’seun inspired, but D’seun did not know. Br’sei, on the other hand, had to know.
So Br’sei flitted around the highland, weaving in and out of its stony ripples to spy on the New People and see what could be seen.
Below him, Br’sei saw the flat, wing-shaped carriers that the New People used to take themselves from place to place. They had smooth hides and glistening windows and were unbelievably clumsy. However, they seemed to serve their purpose well enough. Grace may have been sacrificed for durability.
No New People walked the surface between the transports. Perhaps they were dormant now. Br’sei dipped a little closer, equal parts of fear and excitement swelling his body.
Then, he saw movement on the ground. Two lumps of what he had first taken for crust moved toward the transports. From their shadow rose what looked like one of the People’s own constructors.
Br’sei backwinged, holding his position and watching. The constructor and its accompanying tools glided between the transports as if sniffing at their sides, seeking what? He spoke to his headset, but it could pick up nothing from them, no exchange, no projection, nothing but silence.
At last, the tools retreated to a deep crevice in the highland wall. Br’sei dived after them, bunching himself up tightly to fit between the stone walls where they hid.
The tools made no move as he came within their perceptual range. Now he could see that the one was indeed a constructor. It had the umbrella, the deeply grooved cortex and the manipulator arms. The other two had only eyes and locomotors. Overseers? Recorders maybe?
“What is your purpose?” asked Br’sei in the most common command language.
No reply. Br’sei repeated the question in four of the other command languages he knew, also with no result.
Frustration tightened Br’sei’s bones. “Who made your purpose? Engineer D’han? Engineer T’oth?” Neither name elicited any reaction. The tools stayed as they were, unmoving, unresponsive. Br’sei’s crest ruffled. A tool should at least respond to its user’s name. “Engineer P’tesk? Engineer—”
“Ambassador D’seun.”
Startled, Br’sei’s wings flapped on their own, lifting him and turning him. Ambassador D’seun flew over a ridge in the highland’s wall and deflated until he was level with Br’sei and the tools.
“Good luck, Br’sei,” said D’seun amiably. He spoke to the tools in a command language that Br’sei couldn’t even recognize the roots of. The constructor touched the ambassador’s headset. Br’sei realized with a start that he must be using a chemical link, something Br’sei hadn’t seen in years.
“I would ask you what you’re doing here, Br’sei,” said the ambassador, “especially as this is Highland 76, not 45. But I imagine you feel you have the right to ask me that question first.”
“I don’t wish to presume, Ambassador.” Br’sei sank diffidently. “But yes, I do wish to ask that question.”
The constructor drifted away from Ambassador D’seun, who spoke another few words of his convoluted command language. The constructor headed back to the crevices of the highland with the two overseers crawling after it.
D’seun watched them go until the tools could no longer be told apart from the crust. “At the moment, the tools are monitoring the patterned radio wave transmissions between the New People and their transports, as well as their transports and their base.” He swelled, just a little. “We need to refine our translation techniques. It still takes even our most adept engineers four or five dodec-hours to achieve what we think is an approximate translation of any given message.”
Br’sei stared at the ambassador, framed there by the living highland. “It is difficult to accomplish such a work from a distance.” He fought to keep his voice mild. “But you have said repeatedly that you do not want any tools within a mile of the New People, wherever they are.”
Ambassador D’seun deflated slowly, as if he were too tired to keep his size and shape anymore. “I have wrestled with a great dilemma since we originally dropped the wind seeds onto this world, Br’sei. Now, you have the dubious honor of sharing it with me.” He turned to face Br’sei. “But perhaps we should speak somewhere more comfortable?”
“If you wish, Ambassador.” Patience, he told himself as his bones twitched. The only way you’re going to get your answers is by waiting him out.
Br’sei had been helping to design the seeds for the candidate worlds when he first met D’seun. Br’sei was young for an adult, having been fully declared in his eightieth year.
Back then, there were still debates raging over what the nature of the seeding should be. Should it be a wide variety of organisms, both useful and strictly supportive, to make sure the candidate world would accept a range of life? Or should it be a single organism so that when it did begin to spread, there would be fewer interactions to calculate when the overlaying began?
Br’sei had been of the opinion that broad-seeding was the correct method, and his experiment house was working with two dozen different microcosms to show the differences in effect between broad-seeding and mono-seeding.
Then D’seun had flown up to the door without sending advance notice and asked for a tour and an appointment with Br’sei. Because D’seun was a speaker then, he got both.
The experiment house was an old, wise workplace with heavy screens and thick filters to keep its interior air absolutely ste
rile. Its cortices were complex and well grown, each able to monitor its crystalline microcosms for hours without supervision or correction, leaving the engineers free to work on projection and innovation.
Br’sei led D’seun from cosmos to cosmos, showing him the hardiness of the broad-seeding in the miniature ecosystems as opposed to the flimsy strains of mono-seeded cultures.
“The broad-seeding provides its own support system, you see, Speaker,” said Br’sei as they paused to study yet another microcosm. The sphere’s lensing sides allowed them to see through to the microscopic organisms thriving in the simulated cloud.
“Yes.” D’seun pointed his muzzle at Br’sei. “But that is not truly the point, is it?”
Br’sei remembered how his crest had spread at those words. “Forgive me, Speaker, but that is the entire point.”
“Forgive me, Engineer, but it is not,” D’seun replied. “The point of the initial seeding is not to establish life, but merely to establish that life is a possibility. First we establish that life can exist on a world; then we survey that world carefully, understanding it thoroughly in its pure, prelife state. Then, and only then, can we start laying out the basis for a new canopy, one we design and supervise in its entirety.” He turned his gaze back to the microcosm, deflating a little as he did. “We have acted too often without understanding. We must not do that with our new world. I fear we will have only one chance to make this plan of ours work.”
Br’sei had felt himself swelling at that point, ready to argue, but the speaker’s words flew ahead of his. “What I see here convinces me that you and yours have a tremendous understanding of how life can be built and layered. Your life-base designs are strong and rich.” D’seun whistled, pleased. “I would like to talk to you about providing members for the initial teams, as well as engineers and designers for when New Home is found.”