Filling the wall at the far end of the circular edifice was a grand semidrift map of the Commonwealth, framed with quotations from the United Church and symbols of both secular and spiritual power. The overall effect on someone entering from the outside was inspiring without being oppressive. It ought to be: the entire layout had been vetted by the appropriate branches of the Commonwealth Department for Contact with New Sentient Species, Class V sector. Every visual effect was intentional and nothing had been left to chance—or improvisation.
Matthias liked the building. She would have preferred to have had her offices in the large, airy space. But the dome had been designed to accommodate and impress large groups, not to facilitate the often dull, boring work of daily administration. It was entirely functional, but not for bureaucrats.
The dais behind which she stood was equipped with instrumentation that would allow her to amplify her voice, have it instantly and simultaneously translated into as many as a hundred different languages, defend her position from attack by explosive and energy weapons, project elaborate tridee diagrams and constructs into the air between her and the audience, and, if necessary, supply a quick meal. It faced dozens of seats. Some balanced on three legs in the style favored by the Deyzara. Others were suspended in the fashion of the Sakuntala. Not from the dome, which could not handle such weight, but from graceful arcs of supportive composite. No column of rain fell through the center of the building in the manner of traditional Sakuntala meetinghouses. Humans desired to avoid the relentless, unending downpours of Fluva, not invite it inside their buildings. That much leeway in construction had been granted to her predecessors.
The steady patter of rain was a distant susurration high overhead. Unlike individual rain gear, the roof of the gathering chamber was not static-charged to repel moisture. Raindrops ran in all directions from its apex, forming an attractive pattern overhead that gently dispersed the light falling within. The combination of smoothly dispersed liquid and distant beating had a soothing effect, which was exactly what its designers had intended.
Certainly none of the venerable personages who were slowly filling the available seats were exhibiting overt hostility to one another, although plenty of that lay seething beneath their diplomatic exteriors. She perceived it in the agitated way the Deyzara shifted their trunks, in the swift, short flicking of Sakuntala tails and ears. For now, it was enough that no one took a swing at another or openly flaunted weaponry.
While she had not personally made the acquaintance of everyone present, there were enough familiar faces to make her feel comfortable. On the indigenous side, Naneci-tok was present together with a small retinue representing the burgeoning Sakuntala merchant class. Jemunu-jah sat on her immediate left, in the place of honored influence. The administrator also recognized Cecolou, head of the powerful and influential C’Tiu clan, and a few others.
Representing the Deyzara, Masurathoo sat in front in the middle of a row of respected members of the mercantile and social communities. Her attention tended to focus on the assembling Sakuntala. Not because she favored them, but because the body wrappings worn by the Deyzara were blinding in their richness and the sheer brilliance of their color schemes. The attractive strappings and mottled fur of the Sakuntala were subdued by comparison.
She was not present to judge appearances, however. When everyone had been seated, she moved one finger over a concealed portion of the dais. Instantly a slowly rotating three-dimensional map of the Commonwealth materialized above the heads of the assembled locals. It had the desired effect of stopping conversation.
“Like it or not, this is what you are a part of. What you make of your part in it is up to you.” She zoomed in on Fluva, a cloud-swathed world circling a hot yellow sun. “It may not seem like much in the scheme of things, but this is your home. It’s a nice place, though more to your liking than to my kind. It belongs to you.” She paused for emphasis. “All of you.”
A few subdued mutterings rose from the back rows of the assembled Sakuntala. They were matched by contentious hoots from within the crowd of seated Deyzara.
“I am pleased to announce,” she declared, utilizing her prerogative as chief administrator to amplify her voice sufficient to drown out the incipient pugnacity on both sides, “that pursuant to my recent exchange of communications with Commonwealth center of operations, Fluva has now been upgraded from qualified to full Class Five status.” Expectant, curious stares greeted her declaration. “It means that Fluva will receive proportionately more attention from the relevant Commonwealth departments.” The silence was sustained. “Also, more aid, in the form of both material and credit.”
That finally prompted the appropriate Sakuntala and Deyzara equivalents of applause. She continued.
“As a corollary to this official change of status, my own standing has similarly been upgraded.” She shifted her stance behind the dais. “I will now be able to do more on my own, without having to wait for authorization from Earth or Hivehom. I can clear more exports, approve a greater volume of imports, sanction new aid for specific causes, and license more businesses. Among other things. For the first time I can also,” she added casually, “approve the use of force to settle local disputes.”
That provoked sufficient howling and hooting to drown out the sound of rain splattering on the top of the transparent dome. The noise only began to die down when Cecolou-tiu rose from her chair. Even the Deyzara quieted their hooting, mindful of the revered Hata’s status among her kind.
An aged but still steady six-fingered hand waved in the administrator’s direction. “Humans may not interfere in affairs between sentient native species. I know this thing to be true because I have studied it.” Ears, tail, and hand waved as one in the direction of the seated Deyzara. “You may exercise your law with the interlopers, but by your own regulations you cannot do so among the Sakuntala.” Despite her age, the elder succeeded in conveying an ample measure of confidence. Yelps and yowls from her fellows showed how much her short speech was appreciated.
Matthias was not taken aback by it because she had come prepared for it.
“The esteemed Hata of the C’Tiu is right. No Commonwealth authority may intervene forcibly in sentient native affairs.” She paused for effect. “Unless it is to defend the interests of a second group of sentients who have no way of protecting themselves.”
A Hata-niu of the P’Lua clan slipped out of her seat to speak. “The Deyzara have many ways protect themselves. That they choose not use them does not mean they not exist.” Muted Sakuntala laughter rose from her kinfolk, and a number of the seated Deyzara tensed visibly.
“I was not speaking of the Deyzara.” Matthias waited for the noise to die down before resuming. “I was referring to the pannula.”
That got their attention. As she knew it would.
One of the senior Hata-yuiquerus who had chosen not to fight with the extremists slipped out of his chair so forcefully that it swung wildly and banged into his neighbor. Indignation induced both Sakuntala to ignore the outrageous breach of etiquette. From behind the safety of the dais, Matthias watched and listened with interest. She was not sure she had ever seen a Sakuntala sputter before.
“The pannula is forest spirit, nothing more. It is not intelligent. What manner of trick is this?”
“It is no trick,” she assured the speaker and the rest of her now completely attentive audience. “While the precise level of pannula sentience remains a matter for analysis, over the past several days Commonwealth researchers working in the Viisiiviisii have determined that a sufficient minimum level of awareness is present to qualify the species for such status. It therefore falls under Commonwealth regulations and policy governing the protection of particularly primitive intelligent species. The relevant Commonwealth law states that where multiple intelligences are perceived to be under threat, the most primal and helpless are to receive a proportionately greater degree of protection.” She raised a hand to forestall the rising tide of protest—from bot
h of the assembled groups.
“That means that I now have permission to send peaceforcers to intervene in any local dispute that I or my scientific people believe threatens the well-being of local pannula.”
The Hata-yuiqueru’s tone was acidic. “No Sakuntala is at war with the pannula.” A few laughs greeted his response. They were less in number and intensity than previously and possessed of an underlying nervousness.
“Nor, I must say, is any Deyzara,” added a well-known and floridly attired merchant from the other side of the dome.
“It is not a question of making war, but of danger and damage from wider conflicts spilling over to affect the pannula, who, after all, are unable to move out of the way of such clashes.” She did not smile. “I assure you that the Commonwealth government takes such things very seriously.”
“This a joke!” The speaker and several of the Sakuntala seated around him started to slip from their chairs, preparatory to walking out of the summit.
“If the Sakuntala or anyone else,” she declared firmly, turning up the volume, “willfully disregard this judgment, they will have to deal with Commonwealth justice. Given the sensitivity of the matter, I am informed that more peaceforcers will soon be arriving to reinforce those already under my authority. As the safety and security of a newly eligible intelligent species is involved, they will be bringing with them heavy weapons of a type not yet seen on Fluva.”
The dissenters paused. The warriors of the Sakuntala were bold, skillful, and brave, but they were not stupid. They knew what modern weapons could do. Those that had been obtained by the radicals for use against the Deyzara were impressive enough. They did not doubt that the Commonwealth to which they now belonged could fabricate devices even more lethal.
Cecolou-tiu spoke into the ensuing silence. “What you want of us?”
“Stop fighting each other. The extremists’ move to drive the Deyzara off Fluva has devolved into internecine combat. That, too, must cease. You are going to have to learn how to live and work side by side without these intermittent explosions of senseless violence. The Deyzara are on Fluva to stay.” Soft hoots of approval rose from the side of the chamber that was filled with their representatives.
“And regulations designed to protect the ingenuous Sakuntala from mercantile predation by their more commercially sophisticated neighbors will be enforced by every means at my command.” To this the Sakuntala responded with knowing, and appreciative, yowls of awareness.
“Thanks to the official upgrading in status, Commonwealth instruments and materials for improving the education and situation of all intelligences on Fluva will be increased.” Leaning forward against the dais, she tried to meet as many watching eyes as possible. “My authority allows me to favor whichever species proves to be the most cooperative and willing to embrace Commonwealth principles and values. If the Sakuntala continue to wage war on their neighbors and themselves, it could be the Deyzara. If certain Deyzara persist in using their greater knowledge of Commonwealth ways to take advantage of and impoverish their fellow citizens, it could be the Sakuntala.” She paused meaningfully.
“If both the Deyzara and the Sakuntala continue as they have before, then the Commonwealth Authority on Fluva will have no choice but to favor the interests of the pannula to the exclusion of all else.”
A mixture of shock and disbelief ran through the entire assembly. No threats or words from a human speaker could instantly banish the fear the Deyzara felt for the Sakuntala or the Sakuntala’s dislike of the two-trunks. But they were forced to put aside their mutual aversion and distrust of each other out of fear of being one day dominated by . . . a fungus.
Naneci-tok quite liked what the humans often called mushrooms—to eat. The idea that she and her people might have important decisions foisted on them by such growths, or by humans acting on behalf of such growths, no matter how “intelligent” the humans claimed the growths were, was considerably less palatable.
“You all are going to have to learn how to live and work together,” Matthias was saying. “That’s what the Commonwealth is all about: many different species living and working together to grow knowledge, provide for a common defense, and offer the chance at a good life for everyone living within its stellar boundaries regardless of shape, size, color, belief, or what they respirate. The United Church embraces all sentiences. To my knowledge, it has never been able to count a fungoid intelligence among its flock. Possibly the pannula will be the first.”
Moving with care, as befitted her advanced age, Cecolou-tiu walked slowly from her suspension chair to the other side of the room. There she embraced a surprised Masurathoo, wrapping her tongue several times around the Deyzara’s head. To his credit, Masurathoo accepted the gesture without flinching (much).
“I declare to all who present within sound of my voice,” the senior Hata announced, albeit with obvious reluctance, “that from this day forth the C’Tiu will work only for peace and accommodation between my people and the two-trunks.”
As the demonstrative but wet tongue uncoiled from his head, Masurathoo fought through lingering Sakuntala saliva to respond. “I fear very much that I cannot speak for more than a few of the Deyzara, but I am sure that since it will greatly facilitate the conduct of proper commerce, my people will be of the same mind as the respected Hata Cecolou-tiu. Especially once the words of the most honorable and respected chief administrator have been dispersed to all and fully comprehended by them.”
Matthias nodded approvingly. “Then I pronounce an ending to this gathering. May you all return to your homes and businesses, to your villages and clans, to explain the new way of things. Under these directives, Sakuntala and Deyzara will prosper. All of Fluva will prosper—and the pannula as well.”
Afterward, many came forward to speak with her. Not to congratulate, since neither faction was especially happy with the prospects she had laid out for them, but to curry favor. She listened to them all, to every supplicant, and smiled and chatted politely while promising nothing. She’d meant what she had told them. Deyzara and Sakuntala would have to work things out between themselves, while all the while taking the interests of the pannula into careful account.
Privately, she was relieved at the way things had turned out. The discovery of the pannula had given her the excuse and the authorization to put an end to the interminable conflict that had existed between the planet’s two dominant species ever since the first Deyzara worker had arrived on Fluva. Also, she looked forward with anticipation and fascination to the insights intensified contact with the Commonwealth’s first known intelligent fungal life-form were likely to produce. It had all turned out rather well.
Except that none of the principals involved, not the Sakuntala or the Deyzara, or the reprehensible Case or the odious Shadrach Hasselemoga, had turned out to be very likable. In the elation of resolving the centuries-old conflict between Deyzara and Sakuntala, she had been forced to compromise a certain measure of personal compassion and kindness. The events of the previous weeks had left her a harder person. She had Case to thank for that. Dealing with him had stiffened her for the confrontation with the senior representatives of both Deyzara and Sakuntala.
Two figures who had been watching the summit from the rear of the chamber now came forward, making their way through the thinning crowd of flamboyantly clad Deyzara and dignified, solemn Sakuntala. Jack had brought Andrea with him. She was dressed sensibly for a change, the administrator noted. Among the Deyzara, Andrea could have been naked and painted bright yellow without standing out.
Then Lauren noticed the streak of color-shifting, luminescent composite hair that had been slack-weaved into Andrea’s own natural tresses, and sighed. What would the girl be like at seventeen?
The teenager paused in front of her mother. Then she put both arms around her and hugged hard. “Mom, Dad and I listened to the whole thing, and I just want to tell you that I’m really, really impressed.” Releasing the more than slightly stunned administrator, Andrea
stepped back. Lauren Matthias saw that her incorrigible daughter had tears in her eyes. Standing close behind her, Jack Matthias was gazing down at his wife with a mixture of pride and affection.
“Oh, hell,” she muttered, “this has taken much too long. I’ve got to get back to the office. There’s so much to be done.”
Stepping forward, her daughter took her by one arm and her husband by the other. “Sorry, Lauren,” Jack told her firmly. “Like it or not, you’re taking the rest of the day off.”
For the first time in a long while, the chief of Commonwealth Authority on the full T Class V world known as Fluva found herself overruled.
Seated before the instrument panel of his salvaged and fully refurbished skimmer, Shadrach Hasselemoga contemplated the immensity of southern Viisiiviisii spread out before him. Hard rain ran in serpentine rivulets down the sides of the compact craft, kept clear of the front of the transparent canopy by a strong static charge. One readout was off by a tenth of a total, and he loudly cursed the unknown tech who had been charged with putting it back in proper working order.
Idiots! Morons! Fools and imbeciles, he was surrounded by nothing but. Add to that the need to have to deal with bloated, goggle-eyed two-trunks and smelly, oafish big-ears and it was a wonder he managed to keep a civil tongue in his head. He hated the cursed rain that hardly ever stopped; the turbid, mucky water that receded for only a few weeks out of the year; all the things that crawled and leapt and soared and hopped, that spit and bit and snapped and stung. It was a miserable, wretched dung ball of a world, and it was his misfortune to be stuck on it trying to eke out a living.
Despite his demand, there had been no parade in his honor. Grudgingly, he had been forced to admit that it would be hard to have one in the absence of dry ground. The official declaration had been nice, though, and the limp-lunged folks at the science division had graciously shown him how he and his notable discovery had been entered into the official taxonomic records of the greater Commonwealth. He had accepted the honor and their associated accolades with his usual poor grace. His only lingering regret was that they would not let him into the local lockup and leave him alone for an hour with Sethwyn Case.