Murasaki, page 14
“Oh, yes. “ Ta’azsh’da’s snorkel waved clockwise. “It is said they were useful keeping the ***
under control ... and for locating nests of ***. Of course, there are no *** any longer, except on a few outlying islands.”
Minoru quashed his impatience with the translation. This conversation would presumably have more meaning later, after Emile’s next linguistic update. For now, it was important to keep the momentum going.
“It is said your people came to these islands eighty-two generations ago—”
“So very ***. Do you want me to recite my genealogy?”
“I’d be honored to hear it,” Minoru said, politely. “Might we put that off for a more convenient time?” He did not want to offend Ta’azsh’da, but listening to long lists of ancestors was a daunting prospect right now.
“That would be fine. I come from a very *** line of mothers.”
“Of that I’m certain. But what I’m most interested in is what your legends say about the plants and animals your ancestors found here. Especially those no one has seen for a long time.”
Starship Yamato Crew Database: General News
Genji Expedition: The results of preliminary contacts at several island sites seem wonderfully encouraging. There is a growing consensus that nothing stands in the way of proceeding to direct encounters with the more cosmopolitan and tech-nologically advanced Ihrdizu cultures on the mainland....
... Chief Ecologist Seigi Sato reports”
“This solar system is a less dynamic place than our own, less subject to stellar perturbations or asteroidal impacts. In this more stable environ-ment, which has not gone through the frequent fluctuations of our home system; we find none of the signs of spreading wasteland and deserti-fication that have inflicted so much pain at home.
“From orbit we see clear evidence that the Ihrdizu have been industrialized in some locales for much longer periods than humans were on Earth—although, at a lower technological level—and yet, they appear to live without significant environmental degradation, such as erosion or de-sertification. I am now convinced we have found here proof of what Japan has contended all along, that the environmental disturbances suffered by Earth during recent generations were the product of natural forces, and not the result of so-called human mistreatment of our home world. For as-tronomical reasons. Genji is a luckier planet than Earth. It is as simple as that.”
Dust rose around the jets of the !ander as its engines turned over on idle. Near the ramp, Emile Esperanza went over an inventory list next to a stack of fresh sup-plies, just delivered from Okuma Base.
Minoru, on the other hand, insisted on escorting the pilot back to her craft personally. When they reached the bottom of the ramp, he handed her the data cube containing his report, which she pushed into a pocket of her provocatively snug pressure suit.
“You’re sure you can’t stay?” he asked Yukiko, un-able to keep disappointment out of his voice.
She shook her head. “I can’t, Minoru-san. I promised to drop in at Purple Cliffs Station for dinner this evening.” Then, with a’ light in her eyes, she leaned toward him and whispered, almost conspiratorially.
“They say they have found a local berry with low toxicity levels, and what they call a ‘tart but pleasant’
taste.”
“Lucky bastards,” Minoru commented, and meant the remark in more ways than one. He knew full well what Todo and Shimura were trying to accomplish, by inviting Yukiko to stay for a “feast.”
Yukiko smiled—dimples under her brown eyes made him want to reach out and touch her smooth skin. Only propriety, and her helmet faceplate, prevented him. “I’ll let you know how it tastes, Minoru-san,” she said. “Really. If it’s any good, I’ll bring you some next time I drop by.”
“Just so.” Minoru looked away. He sometimes wished this expedition had been run in a somewhat less Japanese way. On the trip out there might have been more liberal sexuality, as practiced by the Spacers. But the Jap-anese response to intense pressures—especially those of long, confined spaceflight—was instead to tighten social strictures. There had been ten women, all of them of foreign extraction, whose berths on the Yatnato had been won only partly by virtue of their technical skills. They had also promised to “adopt” several unmarried male crewmembers each. But Minoru had seldom opted to take on that release. As for unmarried women, chastity had been the rule for ten years.
Now that they had landed, though, and people had occasional moments of privacy, something had changed in the social climate. Soon, larger living quarters would be available in the high, altiplano freshness of Okuma Bise. Room for new couples to set up house, and even start families.
He and Yukiko, like many others, had set out from Earth as teenagers. And yet he was still looked on as an awkward youth, while she was considered the most beau-tiful and desirable woman among those left unattached. Clearly she was in the process of looking, sampling, mak-ing up her mind.
Underneath his outwardly impassive shell, Minoru felt helpless and, to a growing degree, desperate.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” she said, turning at the top of the ramp. She reached inside the ship and brought down a slim, lacquered box, crafted delicately out of hard wood. This she handed to Minoru. “A present, since you miss the cooking we get at Okuma.”
He looked down at the gift. Under the veneer of wood, a refrigeration unit purred delicately. His mouth watered. “Is it...?”
“Sushi. Yes. Hamachi and Uni. I hope you like it.”
Her smile filled Minoru with wonder, encouraging imagined possibilities he had all but given up on only mo-ments before. “Will I see you again soon?”
“Maybe.– Then, impulsively, she touched her helmet to his for just an instant. “Take care, Minoru.”
Soon the lander rose on its column of heated steam ... watched, as usual, by a crowd of Ihrdizu gaping from be-hind a safety line scratched in the sand. Minoru watched the flying machine peel away, and followed its progress across the sky until it disappeared. Then he went to help Emile move the supplies.
“You’ve got hopes,” Emile commented succinctly, perhaps dubiously.
“Come on,” Minoru grumbled. “I still have the east slope cliffs to cover before nightfall. And haven’t you got work to do, too?”
He hoisted a crate that should have called for two in this gravity, and moved awkwardly but happily toward the storage dome, away from Emile’s knowing smile.
The laser played across the cliff face in double waves. First a gentle scan lit up every millimeter of the sheer sed-imentary surface, while widely spaced recording devices read its reflections, noting every microscopic contour and color variation. Then, when that first scan was, finished, the machine sent forth a much more powerful second beam, which seared away a thin layer wherever it touched. The monitors
,
now recorded glowing spectra from these vapors, taking down elemental compositions in minute detail.
Minoru always made certain only a few Ihrdizu were present to watch this process. He did not want superstitious awe of humans spreading even faster than at present. A certain minimal amount was good, since it meant he and Emile would probably be safe from receiving the pointy end of a trident in some future tiff or labor-management dispute. On the other hand, he had no wish to be mistaken for a god.
I might have been tempted, were the natives more at-tractive, Minoru admitted wryly.
Adolescence was not so far in the past that he didn’t recall fantasies of old. The comic books he used to read in Japan had been filled with seraglios and other imaginative scenarios to titillate bored teenagers and suppressed businessmen alike. Even on ship-board— especially on, shipboard—fantasy had been a way to swim against the tide of ennui. He recalled one mural, painted on the lower decks by frustrated engineers, that depicted green-skinned but nubile alien princesses, catering to the desires of noble Earthling demigods.
Minoru had thought the notion childish, and unlikely, given the reports on Genji from the robot probe.
Now, all he could conjure in his mind was one face. One person. His job forced him to spend too much time exploring sterile cliffs, when what he really needed to impress Yukiko might be waiting in some nearby, meadow, some underground bur-row, or a tidal shoal.
Well, at least Phs’n’kah is out—there looking on my behalf I’m sure he’ll come up with something.
Minoru focused attention onto the business at hand. What grew in the computer display was a slice-by-thin-slice representation of the cliff. Each horizontal lamina layer had been laid down along this ancient coast long ago, when the vagaries of a slowly shifting archipelago pushed lapping tidal waters over the place where he now stood. Amid the slowly growing images in his bolo screen lay speckles of bright color where the semi-intelligent device discovered the outlines of fossils... the remains of dead Genjian crea-tures in the mud so very long ago, only to have their hard tissues replaced gradually by a process of mineralization and preservation quite similar to what occurred countless times on Earth.
Playing with the controls, Minoru zoomed among these discoveries, linking and correlating each one with his database of currently living animal types. Tentative iden-tifications could be made in real time, by, phylum, family, genus ... and sometimes even by species. This, too, was just a sampling at the edges of the island’s complex history. Still, what emerged was a picture that—added to what the other teams were determining elsewhere—would eventu-ally tell the story of life here on Genji.
Already it was clear that here, just as on Earth, the epic began in the sea. Quite early, some Genjian life-form discovered a chemical similar to chlorophyll. Using sun-light as an energy source, it used this
“xanthochlorophyll” to split water, manufacturing its own carbohydrates and proteins. This had a side effect—spilling a waste product, oxygen, into the atmosphere. Eventually a crisis developed as that corrosive substance built up in the air. As on Earth, Genji’s early, microscopic creatures had to adapt to chang-ing conditions or die.
Eventually, they not only adapted, but learned to thrive on the stuff. Higher-energy chemistry enabled experiments in faster, more complex modes of living.
Over the course of time, some one-celled animals fell on the knack of combining and sharing roles just as the eukaryotes did on Earth, 700 million years before Minoru was born.
The ,complex of biochemical interactions specific to Genji had already been worked out before the Yamato ar-rived, by one of the scientists aboard the Spacer vessel. That genius among a crew of idiots had described how the typical Genjian metazoan cell operated...a picture of sym-metry and molecular cooperation—just like the machinery grinding away in Minoru’s own body.
Amazing similarities. Amazing differences. As the cliff face dissolved, micron by micron, Minoru fell into a zenlike work trance, absorbed by the beauty of the story unfolding before his eyes. His hands flew across the con-trols, eyes darting from discovery to discovery.
In his youth, he had pictured exploring alien worlds as a matter of striding forth, ray gun in hand, to rescue (and be rewarded by) beautiful alien maidens. He had envisioned himself the hero of space battles, planting the flag, beating off hordes of monsters in order to uphold the right.
The fantasies of childhood were vivid, barbaric. Mi-noru recalled them with affection but, all in all, much pre-ferred being grown up.
More transients had arrived to set up camp in the shan-tytown over by the funnel-weed swamp.
They were young adult females mostly, just past their First Blush and into their wandering, home-finding phase. They had been drift-ing in for days, from distant parts of the island, and even nearby isles, attracted by the sudden wealth of circulating metal provided by the Earthmen. The newcomers’ shelters were rude, makeshift affairs, built on high stilts to rise just over the average daily tides.
The hovels looked quite miserable in the shadow of finely carved and dressed hilltop farmsteads.
Established villagers glared down from their family compounds. Some were seen sharpening “decorative”
wooden stakes, ar-ranged in close, neat rows around their grounds. Guards were posted to prevent pilfering from the Terran domes, when Minoru and Emile were away. Recently, there had been incidents between locals and newcomers in the village common areas—scrapes and jostlings for the few jobs on Minoru’s work crews. Tail blows exchanged as young fe-males preened and competed for the attention of the be-wildered local bachelors.
Yesterday, at Minoru’s urging, Emile took a break from interviewing his personal coterie of “wise women” and began questioning some of the transients instead. On his return to the habitation dome, the young linguist had expressed dismay. “We’ve disrupted the economy of the entire island! Everything is in an uproar, and it’s all because of us.”
Minoru had not been surprised. “That’s one reason contact teams were spread widely—to lessen the impact Anyway, what you’re seeing is just an exaggeration of what went on all the time even before we came.”
“But the fighting! The violence!”
“You’ve been listening to Dr. Sato’s romantic notions about our Peaceful Ihrdizu Friends, who don’t even know the meaning of war. Well, that’s true up to a point, but don’t you ever listen to the folk tales you yourself re-corded? How about the story of Rish’ong’nu and the Town That Refused?”
“I remember. It’s a morality tale, about the importance of hospitality”
Minoru interrupted, laughing. “Oh, it’s much simpler than that. Rish’ong’nu really existed, did you know that? And the village she conquered did not burn once, but at least forty times, over centuries both before and after her adventure.”
Emile blinked. “How do you know that?”
“Simple archaeology. I’ve taken cores of the site where Rish’ong’nu supposedly lived, and found carbon lay-em that give very specific dates for each rise and fall.
“Anyway, it makes perfect sense. These beings ex-ercise female-mobile exogamy accompanied by partial polyandry based on male-intensive nesting. It’s not quite like anything seen among higher animals on Earth, but the pattern’s pretty familiar among some types of birds and amphibians back home. Young females have to set out and win a place for themselves in the world—and find a hus-band who will take primary care of the offspring. She does this either by wooing a mate from a strong, well-established line, or by pioneering new territory, or by taking a place from someone else.”
“You make it sound so savage.”
Minoru shook his head. “It’s right and proper to love and admire Nature, Emile, but never to idealize it. The process of survival is a competitive one. Always has been, in every species ever known.
“For instance, it didn’t take us long to confirm that the most fundamental rule of biology on Earth applies just as universally here, on Genji and on Chujo.”
“What rule is that?”
“It was known even before Darwin, and it goes like this—in all species, the average breeding pair usually tries to have more offspring than is required to replace them-selves. In hard times, that extra effort helps keep the pop-ulation stable, making up for those that die without reproducing at all. And during good times, or when oppor-tunity knocks, it results in the spreading of genes—”
“But if that’s the rule, what keeps animals from overpopulating?”
“Good question. And the answer is—natural controls. Predation by carnivores higher on the food chain, for in-stance. Or, for the top predators, competition among them-selves for a limited supply of food and shelter. I know it doesn’t sound nice. It’s just nature’s way.”
“But humans, on Earth... “
“Again, good point. We’re, an exception, indeed. We learned to control our numbers voluntarily. But after how long a struggle? At what price? And by what force of will? I assure you, no other Earthly species even makes the effort.
“So, it’s only natural I was curious about the sentient creatures we found here. I don’t know about the Chujo natives yet—”
“Who does?”
“—but on Genji I set out to learn, did the rule hold here as well? And if so, what about the sapient natives? The Ihrdizu? That’s why I asked you to inquire about their use of birth control.”
“They do have some means,” Emile said eagerly.
“Yes, though practiced only sporadically. And so the question remains: what else controls the Ihrdizu population?”
Emile looked at Minoru glumly. “I suppose you’re going to tell me.”
But Minoru only shrugged. “I’m still not sure myself. It seems a little bit, of everything is involved.
Some delib-erate birth control, to be sure. Some predation by sea car-nivores, whenever Ihrdizu venture out too far, foraging. There is definitely a portion of the death rate that is attrib-utable to low-level internecine fighting over the better fens, farmlands, and housing sites. At intervals, there has clearly been starvation.
“And then there’s the environment.”
“How do you mean?” Emile asked.
“Have you noticed the way Ihrdizu houses are shaped like boats, even though they’re built mostly on hilltops?”
“Of course. It’s a holdover from their ancestor-legends, from when they were seafaring...” Emile trailed off when Minoni shook his head. “No?”
“I’m afraid not. They build them that way for much less romantic, more pragmatic reasons. Because, every once in a while, the tides sweep up that high.”
Emile gasped at the mental image that evoked, but Minoru went on. “That’s why the shantytown looks so out of place. On Earth most cities used to have poor areas, even slums, which played major, long-lasting roles in community life. Here, though, everybody knows such areas can only be temporary.
For the newcomers it’s win a place on high ground, or die. And not all high ground will do. Only slopes overlooking water are really suitable.”
As the implications soaked in, Emile muttered a Bud-dhist prayer for mercy. At the same time, he crossed him-self in the Latin manner. “No wonder the level of tension is rising so!”
