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According to our surviving copy of Basic Galactic Socio…Politics； by Smelt； most starfaring races are members of clans…a relationship based on the great chain of uplift。 For example； Earthclan is among the smallest and simplest； consisting of humans and their two clients…neo…chimps and neo…dolphins。 If the patrons who supposedly raised up Homo sapiens are ever found； it could link Earthlings to a vast family stretching back ages； possibly even as far back as the Progenitors； who began the uplift cycle a billion years ago。
With membership in such a clan； Earthlings might bee much stronger。
They might also bee liable for countless ancient debts and obligations。 Another； quite separate network of allegiance seems to be based on philosophy。 Any of the bitter feuds and ornate wars…of…honor dividing Galactic culture arose out of disputes no member of the Six can now recall or prehend。 Great alliances fought over arcane differences in theology； such as the nature of the long…vanished Progenitors。
It is said that when qheuens dwelled among the stars； they were members of the Awaiters Alliance…a fealty they inherited from their Zhosh patrons； who found and adopted primitive qheuens from sea…cliff hives； dominated by fierce gray queens。
Things might have been simpler had the Zhosh only uplifted the grays； but they gave the same expansion of wit and mind to the servant castes as well。 Nor was this the end； for according to lore； the Awaiter philosophy is egalitarian and pragmatic。 The alliance saw useful talents in the reds and blues。 Rulings were made； insisting that the bonds of obeisance to the grays be loosened。
Certain qheuens fled this meddling； seeking a place to preserve their natural way in peace。
That； in brief； is why they came here。
On Jijo； the three types disagree to this day over who first betrayed whom。 Grays claim their colony began in harmony； discipline； and love。 All went well until urs and then humans stirred up blue discontent。 Other historians； such as River…Knife and Cuts…Coral； forcefully dissent from this view。
Whatever the cause； all agree that Jijo's qheuenish culture is now even more untraditional than the one their ancestors fled。
Such are the ironies when children ignore their parents' wishes and start thinking for themselves。
…Collected Fables of Jijo's Seven。
Third Edition。 Department of Folklore and
Language； Biblos。 Year 1867 of Exile。
Asx
SUDDENLY； THEIR QUESTIONS TAKE A NEW TURN。 An edge of tension…not quite fear； but a cousin to that universal passion…abruptly colors the invaders' speech。
Then； in a single night； their apprehension takes hasty physical form。
They have buried their black station！
Do you recall the surprise； my rings？ At dusk there it was； serene； arrogantly uncaring of the open sky。 A cubic shape； blatant in its artificiality。
When we returned at dawn； a great heap of dirt lay there instead。 From the size of the mound； Lester surmised the station must have scooped a hole； dropped itself inside； and piled the detritus on top； like a borer…beetle fleeing a digbat。
Lester's guess is proven right when Rann； Kunn； and Besh emerge from below； ascending a smooth； dark tunnel to resume discussions under the canopy…of…negotiation。 This time they choose to focus on machines。 Specifically…what devices remain from Buyur days？ They want to know if ancient relics still throb with vital force。
This happens on some fallow worlds； they say。 Sloppy races leave countless servant drones behind when they depart； laying their worlds down for an aeon of rest。 Near…perfect and self…repairing； the abandoned mechanisms can last a long time； wandering masterless across a terrain void of living voices。
They ask…have we seen any mechanical orphans？
We try to explain that the Buyur were meticulous。 That their cities were dutifully scraped away； or crushed and seeded with deconstructors。 Their machine servants were infected with meme…pulsions； driving those still mobile to seek nests in the deep trench we call the Midden。 All this we believe； yet the sky…humans seem to doubt our word。
They ask （again！） about visitations。 What clues have we seen of other ships ing stealthfully； for purposes vaguely hinted at but never said aloud？
As planned； we dissemble。 In old human tales and books； it is a technique oft used by the weak when confronted by the strong。
Act stupid； the lore suggests。 Meanwhile； watch and listen closely。
Ah； but how much longer can we get away with it？ Already Besh questions those who e for healing。 In their gratitude； some will surely forget our injunctions。
The next stage will start soon； while our preparations are barely begun。
The fourth human forayer； Ling； returns from her research trip。 Did。she not leave with the young heretic； Lark？ Yet she es back alone。
No； we tell her。 We have not seen him。 He did not e this way。 Can you tell us why he abandoned you？ Why he left you in the forest； his assigned task undone？
We promise her another guide。 The qheuen naturalist； Uthen。 Meanwhile； we placate。
If only our rewq had not abandoned us！ When i/we ask Lester about the woman's mood…what he can read from her demeanor…he only shudders and says he cannot say。
Sara
A CONCERT WAS ARRANGED BY AN IMPROMPTU group of passengers and crew； on the fantail of the Hauph…woa； to wele the Stranger back among the living。
Ulgor would play the violus； a stringed instrument based on the Earthling violin； modified to suit deft urrish fingers。 While Ulgor tuned； Blade squatted his blue…green carapace over a mirliton…drum； stroking its taut membrane with his massive； plex tongue； causing it to rumble and growl。 Meanwhile； all five legs held jugs filled to varied levels with water。 Tentative puffs from his speech vents blew notes across each opening。
Pzora； the traeki pharmacist； modestly renounced any claim to musical talent but agreed to take up some metal and ceramic chimes。 The hoonish helmsman would sing； while the professional scriven…dancer honored the makeshift group by agreeing to acpany them in the g'Kek manner； with graceful motions of his eyestalks and those famous dancing arms； calling to mind the swaying of trees； or wind…driven rain； or birds in flight。
They had asked Sara to round out a six； but she declined。 The only instrument she played was her father's piano； back in Nelo's house by the great dam； and even at that her proficiency was unremarkable。 So much for the supposed correlation between music and mathematics； she thought ironically。 Anyway； she wanted to keep an eye on the Stranger； in case events threw him into another hysterical fit。 He seemed calm so far； watching through dark eyes that seemed pleasantly surprised by nearly everything。
Was this a symptom？ Head injuries sometimes caused loss of memory…or even ability to make memories…so everything was forever new。
At least he can feel some joy； she thought。 Take the way he beamed； every time she approached。 It felt strange and sweet for someone to be so reliably happy to see her。 Perhaps if she were prettier； it wouldn't be so befuddling。 But the handsome dark outlander was a sick man； she recalled。 Out of his proper mind。
And yet； she pondered further； what is the past but a fiction； invented by a mind in order to go on functioning？ She had spent a year fleeing memory； for reasons that had seemed important then。
Now it just doesn't amount to much。
She worried about what was going on up in the Rimmers。 Her brothers stayed close to her thoughts。
If you'd accepted Taine's original proposal of marriage； you might have had little ones by now； and their future to fret about； as well。
Refusing the august gray…headed sage had caused a stir。 How many other offers would there be for the hand of a shy papermaker's daughter without much figure； a young woman with more passion for symbols on a page than dancing or the other arts of dalliance？ Soon after turning Taine down； Joshu's attentions had seemed to ratify her decision； till she realized the young bookbinder might only be using her as a diversion during his journeyman year in Biblos； no