Matriarch (8 page)

Ual had invited them to solve Umeh's environmental problems knowing what he would unleash. This was the Northern Assembly's territory. The rest of Umeh hadn't been consulted.

This was a dry run for Earth's likely fate. Shan decided to take careful notes.

“So who replaced Ual?” asked Eddie. “Can't be Par Shomen Eit. He's too senior.”

“I was surprised by their choice,” said Esganikan. “But in the end, it is, as you say,
academic.
She does not speak English or eqbas'u. Aitassi will interpret.”

“Bugger,” said Eddie. “I'd rather got used to Ual's command of language. Poor bastard.”

Shan was starting to feel conspicuous. She was aware of a few people stopping to look, and one of them was very familiar. It was Olivier Champciaux, the geologist from the
Thetis
mission; he stopped dead and gave her a strange little-boy wave. She found herself half waving back.

“Wherever we're meeting the isenj, let's go and sit down,” said Shan. “I hate standing around.”

She followed Esganikan's bobbing red plume across the dome, with the two ussissi skittering across the smooth composite floor behind the Eqbas commands. They dropped onto their rear four legs to keep up with her. Every time Shan slipped into thinking of ussissi as oversized meerkats, they reminded her that they had three pairs of limbs, and the fragile sense of home and normality she'd built crumbled a little.

Esganikan had commandeered a site office, a sterile cube of composite walls with a rickety trestle table; it hardly seemed the place for a meeting that would decide the fate of
billions of isenj. Ade unfolded a few chairs and set them around the table.

“Isenj can't sit on those, mate,” said Eddie. “Let's find a small crate or something.”

“Surreal,” said Shan. “Couldn't we manage a meeting room?”

“I think they converted all the larger units to accommodation. Don't worry. Isenj aren't as touchy as humans about protocol.”

“What is
discussed
is important,” said Esganikan, but she didn't sit down. Shan felt as if the matriarch filled the room, and she wasn't used to a physical presence that rivaled her own. “And it will not be a long discussion.”

“Can I record it?” asked Eddie.

“If you wish.”

Shan wondered what he would do with the footage. If it turned out the way she imagined, it would hardly make comfortable viewing. Esganikan probably knew that.

“She's coming,” said Aitassi.

Shan had never quite worked out if ussissi had exceptional hearing or smell, or both, but they seemed to have an almost osmotic degree of communication. She looked towards the door and an isenj was walking towards them like an unsteady trolley, tottering on multiple legs. She'd seen isenj before; but that had been seconds before a firefight. She'd never sat down at a table to talk to one in a civilized fashion.

For a moment, she recalled the smell of wet leaves and fungal forest floor and agonizing pain—Aras's pain at the hands of his isenj captors. It was as vivid as if it had happened to her. She tried to shake herself out of it, and then Ade caught her eye and she wondered if he was recalling it too. The memories had spread between them like flu and they shared one another's nightmares. It was too bad that the joyful memories hadn't surfaced in the same way. There had to be some.

A ussissi trotted through the door, a small male with a bandoleer of green beaded belts rattling across his shoulders. “Eddie Michallat,” he said in his high-pitched childlike voice.
“You're back.”

“Hi, Ralassi. Who do you work for now?”

Well, this is cordial.
Shan watched as the isenj trundled through the opening and stood before them. There were no identifiable eyes to focus on and it was covered in dark quills, each tipped with a bead of brilliant blue transparent stone. It rattled like a chandelier and it smelled of forest floor. Shan dug her nails into her palms and noticed Ade swallow hard, eyes fixed on the creature; yes, he had the nightmare memories too.

But Shan had her own personal recollections. This was the closest she had ever been to a live isenj: the last encounter with them had ended with a round shattering her skull.
Spider. Piranha. Porcupine.
Her human brain struggled for a comparison, but the small part of her that remembered what it was to be wess'har and isenj and bezeri and God only knew what else via her
c'naatat
somehow saw
enemy
and
comrade
and
stranger.
It was unsettling to say the least.

Eddie looked uneasy.

“I introduce you to Minister Rit,” said Ralassi. “She has been anxious to meet you—especially you, Eddie Michallat. Her mate was Par Paral Ual.”

It took a lot to reduce Eddie to speechless silence but Ual's widow had managed it. The word forming on his lips was
sorry.

But she spoke no English.

“I admired your husband very much,” said Eddie. He had almost learned to look isenj in the nearest place they had to eyes. “And I'm very, very sorry that he was killed.”

Ralassi paused before exchanging a high-pitched stream of sound with Minister Rit.

“She says he was fond of you and that she thanks you for helping him to open negotiations with the wess'har.”

Shit. Don't make me the fucking hero here. If I hadn't helped him, he might be alive now.
“Do you mind if I record this meeting?”

“She has no objection.”

They'd be speaking eqbas'u and isenj. No matter: he could get Serrimissani to translate the soundtrack if he decided to transmit the footage. Eddie had reached the stage where he recorded things anyway whether he planned to
send them down the ITX to BBChan or not.
History. Yeah, evidence. Whatever.
He'd walked a fine line between observing and involvement for years, crossing it first accidentally and then knowingly, and he was now convinced that nobody could observe events without influencing them.

Quantum journalism. Quite an excuse.

Shan sat down next to Ade and simply watched. She still had that way of scanning everyone for a fraction of a second too long for comfort, still every inch the detective. He never forgot she'd been a frontline copper. That was what he saw when he looked at her; not some armed drain-sniffer from Environmental Hazard Enforcement, but a woman who'd tackled everything from riots to fraud to terrorism, and who didn't give a shit what the rules said about suspects' rights. She'd crossed a few professional lines herself. Eddie found that more reassuring than reprehensible these days.

“Your first step has to be to reduce your population,” said Esganikan, in
English.

Well, that was something. Eddie wondered if it was in deference to him or because she wanted him to be able to show the meeting to the governments back home. She tilted her head on one side for better focus and it gave her the appearance of looking gently concerned, something that he suspected was far from her actual state of mind.

“Reduce your birthrate, your population and your consumption. Then we can move towards recreating a diverse ecology that can sustain itself.”

Ralassi's matte-black predatory eyes flicked to Rit and back to Esganikan, showing a flash of yellow sclera. Eddie wondered what Serrimissani thought of the other ussissi. It was hard to tell: the females always seemed pissed off with everything and everybody.

“Minister Rit asks how that can be done, because previous attempts to curb the birthrate have failed.”

“I discussed this with Ual,” said Esganikan. “We have tissue samples of various isenj genotypes and we can develop a…” She seemed at a loss for words. Wess'har had
no concept of unplanned births. “A mass contraceptive. Delivered via the water supply, so that all are affected equally.”

A rattling pause followed the matriarch's comment. “Minister Rit asks what you mean by
all.
”

“Your highly organized water distribution makes it easy to administer and impossible to avoid.”

“But does that not render
everyone
infertile?”

“It can.” Esganikan betrayed no caution or diplomacy. “We can restrict where we distribute it, of course. We can target it geographically, or perhaps by genetic markers.”

“What kind of genetic markers?”

“Your land masses have effectively created four distinct islands with some genetic variations between populations. We could attempt to target that way.”

Eddie took in the meaning and fought to keep his reflex reaction under control. This was a fundamental taboo where he came from, one step away from ethnic cleansing. He had to remind himself that this wasn't his world and he had no right to judge isenj or Eqbas morality. It still made him flinch.

Shan didn't seem as hesitant. “But how do you decide who gets it?”

“I would prefer to exempt those individuals who would be most likely
not
to repeat the excesses of the past,” said Esganikan. “But I suspect there is no easily identifiable genetic marker for that.”

Eddie had to listen very carefully to the way Esganikan used language. She was precise. All wess'har—including Eqbas wess'har—said
exactly
what they meant, and they appeared to be shaping their use of English the same way. She should have said
least likely.
But
least likely
was not what she meant; she was seeking
not likely.
She intended to root out ecological profligacy by any means, including selective breeding.

Now he saw the gulf between the Wess'ej wess'har and their Eqbas origins. Eqbas intervention was dispassionate. They culled, like herdsmen, like fish farmers, like conservationists—like
humans.

They're just like us. Oh shit. They're
exactly
like us.

It was the most fundamentally terrifying thought that Eddie had ever had.

Ralassi chattered with Rit. Eddie's gut churned.

“Minister Rit says that the Northern Assembly may agree to limiting its population using your measures if you help prevent the territory being overrun by other nations.”

What was Rit playing at? Creating breathing space for her own state? It was odd to concede that quickly. Maybe she thought Eqbas were like wess'har and didn't negotiate anyway; she might have been placating them to avert total annihilation. That was probably a smart move.

Esganikan tilted her head the other way and her copper-red plume shimmered in the overhead light. “As the Northern Assembly has invited us to find a solution for them, let us begin with the assumption that your region is willing and able to embrace new approaches to ecological balance.”

“So what is your strategy?”

“To identify which states and individuals will cooperate, and which will not. To aid those who do. To reduce the population in those states that obstruct the process. And to then enable the remaining population to manage and sustain the restored environment. This is a long project.”

“Will you maintain a presence here?”

“If the situation requires it and as long as we are able. We expect free access.”

As long as we are able.
It was an oddy human disclaimer.

The bee cam hovered. Shan, arms folded across her chest, looked as if she was waiting for a suspect to confess after a long interrogation. Ade stared ahead of him with a completely impassive expression that had probably been honed by long periods standing to attention. Eddie wished he could smell moods and emotion like wess'har could.

Ralassi consulted Rit. “The Northern Assembly may face sanctions for allowing your intervention.”

“How will you respond?” asked Esganikan.

Chatter.
“If there is a military response, with force. It would be an opportunity for them to acquire more territory and gain access to our water supply. We have the mountainous regions, and so the meltwater and rivers. If there are less direct sanctions—we will respond by limiting water supplies.”

Eddie had seen enough wars and their aftermath to work out how many deaths would result in an attack on a city so crowded that pedestrian traffic had its own rules of speed and flow.
I know what a single cannon round from the Eqbas can do.
And there were no plains or open country in which to fight battles. It would be city-to-city war: destructive and inevitably indiscriminate. Isenj knew that, and avoided it.

Esganikan must have known that too. She was a seasoned commander. “Let me speak to the other heads of state.”

“Minister Rit asks you to come to her office tomorrow and she will arrange contact with the other states.”

Esganikan stood up immediately to leave. Eddie pocketed the bee cam and made a move to intercept Rit, a straight hardwired journalist reflex that didn't consult his brain.

But he found he wanted to talk to her, and not for a quote. This was his friend's widow.

He missed Ual.

Ralassi watched him warily and the minister, a dark quilled ovoid just like her husband and every other isenj Eddie had ever seen, shimmered and tinkled like sapphire wind chimes.

“Do you have children?” Eddie asked.

“The minister says she has two sons.”

“Tell her I'm sorry they lost their father and I know they must miss him.”

Ralassi interpreted. “She says they have his genetic memories, and hers, and so he will always be with them.”

For some reason that hit Eddie very hard and he felt tears prick at his eyes. He wasn't sure if it was because Ual's sacrifice moved him, or whether it reminded him how alone he was. Rit tottered out the door, followed by Ralassi, and Eddie glanced at Shan.

“So what are you going to do with
that
footage?” Shan asked. Ade, standing right behind her, put his hand flat on her back between her shoulder blades as if he was steering her out of the door. “That'll loosen a few sphincters back home.”

“I hope so,” said Eddie. “Does
anything
scare you? I suppose not.”

“We're all scared of something, Eddie.”

Ade pushed her gently. “Come on, Boss.”

Umeh Station was hardly a diverting place to spend a day, but Ade clearly had ideas. As the two of them walked away, Ade slid his hand down Shan's back and hooked his thumb into the back of her belt. They looked at one another for a brief moment as if they'd suddenly seen each other for the first time and were startled by the moment of revelation.

Aww. Cute.
Whatever they saw in each other, it wasn't what the outside world perceived.

Eddie realized he had only Serrimissani for company, waiting beside him like a patient but ill-tempered sheepdog. She'd looked after him during some unpleasant moments; a minder like that meant the difference between life and death when you were reporting in a war zone.

And he'd felt her needle teeth in his flesh, too. Ussissi were
not
cute.

“Weird shit, doll,” said Eddie, indicating Ade and Shan. “I know the wess'har are relaxed about all that polyandry stuff, but it still feels weird to me.”

“What solitary, possessive creatures you are,” said Serrimissani. “Your species' permanent aggression has a root cause, it seems.”

Eddie wanted to explain to her that he didn't actually want to be alone, and that humans were gregarious. But looking at the polyandrous and communal species around him, he realized he had far more in common with the isenj than with the people closest to him—his wess'har neighbors, and Shan's bizarre family.

And his homeworld now had more in common with Umeh. Earth was next in line for Eqbas environmental adjustment.

Umeh Station: plant and maintenance level

Umeh Station was like every military base Ade had ever seen except for the lush greenery. It didn't strike him as uncomfortable at all, but then a marine could make a warm bed on pack ice. It was just a matter of the right attitude.

It was almost luxurious here. They still had some dry rations, and Ade could be highly persuasive at procurement when he put his mind to it. It was amazing what people would trade to copy a few movies from his handheld once communication links were restricted.

Beneath the dome, a huge network of underground chambers housed recycling and hydroponics chambers. It was quiet and the passages were softly lit, the silence punctuated only by the faint hum of pumps and drives and the gurgling and clicking of pipes processing waste. He was waiting for Shan. She'd decided to visit the “crushers”—
Actaeon
's regulating branch personnel—and find out how they maintained order in an overcrowded and sealed society. She needed to be kept busy. An idle Shan was trouble.

“Is that you, Boss?” He could hear her coming; he knew her walk now. He could also smell her, a blend of cedarlike wood and human female musk.
C'naatat
had given him new layers of senses. “I realize this isn't five-star. But it beats trying to find accommodation up top.”

He leaned against one of the soil pipes that shunted shit from the lavatories into the separation tanks and filters that turned it into nutrients for vegetables.

“Fine by me.” Shan inspected a machinery space with a door and threw her bedroll down on the floor. “Private enough.”

“They say people are put off by the thought of the shit moving around down here.”

“What, even the naval personnel? I mean, ships' plumbing…”

“Civvies, I expect.”

“Squeamish buggers.” She seemed to have thawed a little. “I used to do obbo duty with a detective sergeant who peed in his coffee flask to avoid getting out of the car.”

“Did he finish the coffee first?”

“You could never tell with Baz. Or his coffee.”

“Yeah, I got stuck on surveillance a few times. Had to piss where I was, flat on the ground.”

“Don't they bag you?”

“Do you really want to know?”

That was what he liked about Shan. It wasn't just that he wanted her; he felt
easy
with her. She was blunt and uncomplicated, and he never had to guess what she was thinking. She had that same unflinching vulgarity as his mates.

So he could say what was on his mind. He was sure of it.
Almost.

“I really am sorry about Rayat, Boss.”

“I know.”

“You feel you have to do something about it.”

“If you were me, wouldn't you want to be sure that having two more
c'naatat
carriers on the loose isn't going to make this situation any worse?”