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Authors: Liz Williams
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were idiot children, incapable of understanding the refinements of the hierarchical languages that lay above. The fact that this was largely true did not help Sirru's mood. Honored? What was the kftaith talking about? He tried to focus on what EsRavesh was saying.
"It seems that another of your caste's seed colonies has be-come active. The one you call Eir Sithe Tekhei," EsRavesh told him. "Observe." He touched an implant in the wall. A small glowing globe emanated from it and hovered before Sirru's face. Gradually, the glow faded and a world appeared: small, blue, marbled with cloud, beneath which continents swam in ochre and gray. Ice dappled each pole; a tiny moon orbited slowly. Sirru frowned. He'd seen a representation of this world before, among the ranks of desqusai planets that had not yet reached fruition.
"It's activated?" he echoed.
"Indeed. A depth ship has been broadcasting for genera-tions, but to no effect. Now, however, it seems that a Receiver, a female, has finally grown to fruition and come on-line. The Receiver, after an apparently shaky start, has entered into reli-able communication with the depth ship. The ship has a ra't-sasa , of course—an administrator. She is a caste/clade member of mine. She is requesting a suitable mediator between herself and the colony's inhabitants. That mediator," EsRavesh said with a buttery trace of satisfaction, "will be you."
"Me?"
"You," EsRavesh repeated, with a trace of sharpness. "Perhaps I do not make myself sufficiently clear.
Eir Sithe Tekhei is a desqusai world, the home of a subspecies of your own caste. Your caste has therefore been selected as being re-sponsible for this particular colony—an appointment that re-flects your ancestors' role in forming the colony itself. Your job will be to go to Tekhei and solve whatever problems have accrued in its evolution. I understand that there are a number of difficulties."
"What sort of difficulties?" Sirru asked. The scale clamped down on his stirrings of unease.
EsRavesh said wearily, " Desqusai , hmmm." Always a prob-lem , his words implied. But what can you expect of the lower or-ders ? "The Receiver herself is extremely fragile; I understand that there has been some kind of malfunctioning in her ge-netic programming. The depth ship's raksasa is even now working on a way to modify her so that she can operate more effectively. It also seems that the colony has not adapted well to the regeneratives that were aligned to it. Genetic patterns designed to form the basis of communication have become distorted across millennia, and have either atrophied or be-come structurally damaging."
Unbidden, the voice of Sirru's lost friend IrEthiverris echoed in his head. It's the communications network. It's killing them ! He shivered. The disaster on Arakrahali was the last thing he wanted to think about now. EsRavesh continued, "Political structures are rudimentary, as is to be expected in such a society. The world is suffering from a population ex-plosion; its environment has been rendered unstable by injudi-cious economic decisions. The colony must be brought under the aegis of the irRas. It must be pruned , before it goes entirely to seed. If such pruning proves unsuccessful, the colony will have to be terminated."
"Terminated?" Sirru's quills rattled.
Hissing in exasperation, the tfiaith stepped forward. "I re-alize that it's a difficult notion to entertain. But you do under-stand?"
"Yes," said Sirru, wincing. He added, "My caste would be most unhappy if that were to happen."
"The decision is not in the hands of the desqusai ," EsRavesh snapped. "It is the Core's. You know as well as I do that the Core cannot allow unviable colonies to spread like poison-briar throughout the galaxy. Unruly populations must be con-trolled, governed, their savage impulses contained within the proper boundaries. I'm sure you agree. Or"—a trace of sar-casm tinged the air—"have you become a Natural, arguing for some nonsensical
"It seems that another of your caste's seed colonies has be-come active. The one you call Eir Sithe Tekhei," EsRavesh told him. "Observe." He touched an implant in the wall. A small glowing globe emanated from it and hovered before Sirru's face. Gradually, the glow faded and a world appeared: small, blue, marbled with cloud, beneath which continents swam in ochre and gray. Ice dappled each pole; a tiny moon orbited slowly. Sirru frowned. He'd seen a representation of this world before, among the ranks of desqusai planets that had not yet reached fruition.
"It's activated?" he echoed.
"Indeed. A depth ship has been broadcasting for genera-tions, but to no effect. Now, however, it seems that a Receiver, a female, has finally grown to fruition and come on-line. The Receiver, after an apparently shaky start, has entered into reli-able communication with the depth ship. The ship has a ra't-sasa , of course—an administrator. She is a caste/clade member of mine. She is requesting a suitable mediator between herself and the colony's inhabitants. That mediator," EsRavesh said with a buttery trace of satisfaction, "will be you."
"Me?"
"You," EsRavesh repeated, with a trace of sharpness. "Perhaps I do not make myself sufficiently clear.
Eir Sithe Tekhei is a desqusai world, the home of a subspecies of your own caste. Your caste has therefore been selected as being re-sponsible for this particular colony—an appointment that re-flects your ancestors' role in forming the colony itself. Your job will be to go to Tekhei and solve whatever problems have accrued in its evolution. I understand that there are a number of difficulties."
"What sort of difficulties?" Sirru asked. The scale clamped down on his stirrings of unease.
EsRavesh said wearily, " Desqusai , hmmm." Always a prob-lem , his words implied. But what can you expect of the lower or-ders ? "The Receiver herself is extremely fragile; I understand that there has been some kind of malfunctioning in her ge-netic programming. The depth ship's raksasa is even now working on a way to modify her so that she can operate more effectively. It also seems that the colony has not adapted well to the regeneratives that were aligned to it. Genetic patterns designed to form the basis of communication have become distorted across millennia, and have either atrophied or be-come structurally damaging."
Unbidden, the voice of Sirru's lost friend IrEthiverris echoed in his head. It's the communications network. It's killing them ! He shivered. The disaster on Arakrahali was the last thing he wanted to think about now. EsRavesh continued, "Political structures are rudimentary, as is to be expected in such a society. The world is suffering from a population ex-plosion; its environment has been rendered unstable by injudi-cious economic decisions. The colony must be brought under the aegis of the irRas. It must be pruned , before it goes entirely to seed. If such pruning proves unsuccessful, the colony will have to be terminated."
"Terminated?" Sirru's quills rattled.
Hissing in exasperation, the tfiaith stepped forward. "I re-alize that it's a difficult notion to entertain. But you do under-stand?"
"Yes," said Sirru, wincing. He added, "My caste would be most unhappy if that were to happen."
"The decision is not in the hands of the desqusai ," EsRavesh snapped. "It is the Core's. You know as well as I do that the Core cannot allow unviable colonies to spread like poison-briar throughout the galaxy. Unruly populations must be con-trolled, governed, their savage impulses contained within the proper boundaries. I'm sure you agree. Or"—a trace of sar-casm tinged the air—"have you become a Natural, arguing for some nonsensical
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