Reclamation

What is going wrong? We are the Rhudolant Vitae. We are the First Life. We are the architects of the Quarter Galaxy…He peeled the recorder sheet off the wall and rolled it into a tight cylinder. Optical matter flowed into the square where it had lain and solidified to become a section of blank wall. That is, of course, the problem. We've gotten so used to manipulating governments and corporations, we've forgotten that individuals will still work betrayal, and that our own land are capable of grotesque mistakes.

Our entire history is based on the fact that we were betrayed and we still forget to watch out for it.

The problem also was that now that events were truly moving and moving fast, there was no time for individual implications to sink in.

The Home Ground was not some far-off paradise anymore, but it wasn't just a ruined hulk to be recolonized, either. There was technology there that had survived longer than the memory of its function had. The Vitae would learn to use it. Nothing could stop that, but the blind still prevailed in the Reclamation Assembly. They would not see that if the power was not directed outward from the beginning, it would turn inward. Those who were now Imperialists would find something closer to home to raise arms about. With knowledge of the Ancestors' technology, the arms would draw more blood than words, and the blood would be Vitae. It would spill itself out while the rest of the Quarter Galaxy looked on in mild curiosity.

Uary turned on his heel and hurried back to the lift. Technically, Caril should come out of her quarters first, to see the new essay and know he would be waiting for her in the market, but Uary couldn't risk Basq finding him there. If Basq knew Uary worked with the Imperialists, Basq would use that fact to get Uary removed from committee work, and then there was no telling who would be the one to examine the male artifact when it was brought in.

The markets opened whenever the ship was near enough to a settled planet for goods to be imported by shuttle from the surface. Temporary storage facilities were set up in the Grand Errand's fifth level park to dispense the goods and record the sales. Residents who had their names entered on the subscription rosters could select goods from a posted list on their private terminals and have them delivered to their quarters rather than being required to come to the market. Depending on the world, there could be thirty or thirty-five different units that would need replenishing two and three times a day.

Kethran, however, had very little variety to offer the ship.

Barely a dozen boxy, silver vendors had been stationed between the park's stages, easels, and terminals.

Uary strolled through the park. He paid no attention to the holographed dancers, or the green marble statue of a many-branched tree, or the single-phase abstract mosaic on display. He wandered from vendor to vendor, examining the meats and vegetables, and trying to discern how well the Vitae-induced strains were really adapting to Kethran's environment. He selected several samples to be delivered to the lab so he could go over them in detail. The poultry did not seem to be as robust as it should, but then again, some of the Kethran distributors slighted Vitae procurers…

Caril, ever mindful of her position as dutiful Wife of a promoted Ambassador, breezed into the park with an air of total neutrality that would have done a Witness proud. She wound her way easily between the half a dozen other Wives, male and female, who mulled about the market space. She examined the food offerings with serious attention and a practiced eye before selecting delicacies for breakfast.

Uary sauntered along and waited until Caril was at a stall by herself before he crossed the park and stood beside her.

The parks were not safe, but they were safer than anywhere else on the Grand Errand. Word-of-mouth conversations were not truly safe, either, but, like the parks, they were safer than the alternatives.

"Good morning, Wife," he said politely as he leaned over to select his own fruit. Whatever Uary thought of Basq, it was a matter of record and repetition he was always polite to Basq's Wife and Beholden. "Not much of a selection today, I'm afraid."