Read Online The View from the Imperium by Jody Lynn Nye - Free Book Online Page B

like the idea of being so vulnerable.”
    “How can we be sovereign?” Six asked, narrowing an eye at her. “Was there a referendum I haven’t heard about? We’re a loose association, that’s all.”
    “No, we’re a confederation, aren’t we?” Twenty appealed to DeKarn, her dark red tattoos outlining large black eyes. She was young, attending a council for the first time.
    “This is an advisory board only,” the First Councillor corrected her. “Since the earliest years after the Imperium abandoned us, no one has moved to form a confederation. No one was able to agree on terms for a general election. Many have held firm to their old allegiance to the Imperium. You can find the links in your briefing documents.” She palmed the tabletop. Behind her, the image of the “welcome” file logo sprang into being. Links shaped like each of the systems’ flags, scrolls for historical files, and the faces of past statesbeings flew out from the page, inviting a reader to open them and hear or read the contents. Timidly, Twenty started to reach for one.
    “Do we have a government of our own, or don’t we?” Zembke asked, exasperated. He waved a hand, and the image of the documents winked out, leaving the walls blank. Twenty jumped back and put her hands on the tabletop. DeKarn was annoyed with him. “No. Of course not. That would require making a decision, something we are all allergic to.”
    “Can we agree that we are an independent entity, separate and apart from the Imperium?” Marden asked.
    “No!” said Councillor Twenty-Three. “We are not yet a complete conclave.”
    Few paid attention to him. They were on the usual three sides of the argument.
    “There has never been an agreement to separate!” snarled Councillor Fourteen. Her parchment-colored skin paled further.
    Six snorted, ignoring her. “What of that? We’re going to sound pretty sad crying out our independence when they bombard our planets.”
    “They’re not going to do that,” Councillor Twelve said. She was a placid woman in her middle years, with soft bronze hair. The delicate spiral tattoos on her face played up her large, toffee-colored eyes. “They want to open negotiations. That is a peaceful overture.”
    “Maybe,” Seventeen said, a notorious pessimist, lowering his thick brows, “they plan to drive a wedge between us!”
    Zembke made a gesture of impatience. “They can’t do that. We have withstood the years by mutual cooperation. We wouldn’t survive without one another. You of Dree have a wealth of planets with water rings. We in Carstairs have heavy metals and transuranics that you need. We trade with one another, protect one another’s backs, provide opportunities, keep the gene pool from becoming stagnant in any one system . . .”
    “But that makes us neighbors, not siblings,” Seventeen insisted.
    Sago Thanndur, Thirty-Second Councillor, whistled a little between his mandibles and shifted his bright blue carapace. He and his fellow insectoids came by their elaborate facial markings naturally. “Not genetically, perhaps. We are siblings in adversity.” His species had been the native of the seventh system, named something unpronounceable in their own language and called Cocomo by the humans who had moved in and commandeered the fourth planet from the sun, which had once been earmarked by the beetlelike aliens for settlement and expansion. It had taken over a thousand years for the native Cocomons to stop calling the humans “invaders” and accept them as co-inhabitants. They held four of the seats that represented their system to the Cluster council. He and his fellows occupied cuplike baskets held upright rather than the swiveling armchairs the humans sat in. In a show of solidarity, an example of what Sago spoke of, the sole human from Cocomo, Desne Eland, Councillor Thirty-Five, reclined crosslegged in one of the roomy baskets. He wore robes of bright blue to match his comrades’ shells. “That will have