The Best of All Possible Worlds (3 page)

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

“
W
hat’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.”

I frowned, scared now. The First Assistant Biotechnician was new to her post. Unless
she was going on maternity leave or had been sacked, there was no way I was taking
her place—not that I wanted to. There’s only so much deskwork I can stand before I’m
desperate to be out driving through the homesteadings. And there
was definitely no way I could be making Chief. What other twists were possible on
my career path?

I realized Gilroy was watching me and smirking at the panic I hadn’t bothered to hide.

“Right, thanks. Close the door behind you,” I said, dismissing him brusquely.

I shut my eyes and spun my chair around once, maybe trying to lighten my anxiety,
maybe trying some weird little made-up luck ritual. Then I broke the seal and pulled
out my orders.

“They want me to do
what
?”

As if on cue, my monitor chimed and flashed. I glanced irritably at the message box;
then my eyes widened, and I tapped the channel open. “Delarua here.”