* * * * *
They met Kesney in a lounge not far from Kesney’s room; sofas, tables, chairs, game tables, and an image screen had been arranged to make the best use of the space. A few red-leafed plants grew in pots in the corners, fed by a water valve extending from the wall. A chronometer on the wall clicked the hours away as Alessia told her story and Eiron explained the reason why he had taken Kesney away from his post.
“Ezáitur thought I was a dissident?” Kesney asked. “Well, I suppose if what you’ve said is true, I really shouldn’t wonder about it. I mean, I’ve heard about a lot of the crap that goes on in Headquarters from Vaikyur, but this mess takes it all,” he shook his head in disgust, and got up to pace the room.
“So, we’ve been the big bad bullies all this time, have we?” he continued quietly, questioningly. “People have been losing their lives over nothing, and I’ve been helping all of that along.” He said it without emotion, only a vacant expression in his bleary, tired eyes. The friendly face looked lost, betrayed, no longer very friendly.
He isn’t taking the news well, Eiron thought. Though Eiron had expected such a reaction. It wasn’t easy to learn that you’d wasted your entire life fighting for a cause you didn’t believe in any more.
“Why haven’t you done anything?” Kesney turned to Alessia with predictable anger. “People believe the government stands up for their freedom and their families’ protection!”
“Just think about it.” Eiron said, interrupting. “What good would it do for Alessia to interfere in our politics? People would see her as an insurrectionist or dictator.”
“They’ll support her once they know what’s going on,” Kesney argued.
“Maybe they would, but they’ve got to listen first, which I doubt they’d do. Remember, they don’t realize what the Fer-innyera is, and they don’t really want to change. No one wants to believe that someone has fooled them for so many years, you know. They’d rather pretend that they still don’t know what’s going on.”
“They certainly won’t change if you don’t even try,” Kesney countered.
“You saw how the people at Headquarters reacted to the idea of negotiation.” Eiron said. “They all remember how peace talks failed in Alton’s day.”
“But you and Vaikyur were reaching some of us,” Kesney insisted. “Not only me, but other officers.”
“My grandfather will do what he can.” Eiron bit his lower lip thoughtfully, then continued. “But until something shakes them up, the people just won’t believe anything we say. It’s hard, but we’ll just have to wait. Only frightened people embrace new alternatives.”
“Maybe.” Kesney said, relenting. “But I still think you’ve waited too long already.”
“He might be right,” Alessia interrupted in a distracted, serious tone.
“I might?” Kesney echoed.
She nodded. “There’s a bigger problem than any of this, though I only realized the gravity of it quite recently. Since then I’ve been trying to work out what to do to about it.”
Eiron and Kesney turned to listen.
“You know Orian’s magma core is becoming more active, approaching an eruption that will re-shape the surface.”
“I’ll take your word on it.” Kesney agreed.
“Orian’s surface crust thins periodically,” Alessia said, pausing, “but this time it’s serious.”
“How serious?” Kesney asked.
“The radioactive elements are colliding at the core at a faster rate than ever before, causing those earthquakes we see from Tiasenne. I think the planet-forming processes are finally breaking down,” she said.
“You don’t mean—Orian isn’t a natural environment?” Eiron asked, surprised.
Alessia nodded. “Exactly. My people made the atmosphere breathable several thousand years ago to establish a temporary base on Orian which we used as—” she hesitated. “A stopping point in our exploration.”
“Why choose Orian?” Kesney wondered.
“You mean, instead of Tiasenne?” Alessia shook her head. “Well, because of the high concentration of rare and radioactive elements on Orian, and because of Orian’s abundance of surface metals. The volcanism brings the heavier ones back to the surface and makes them easier to mine. We knew this volcanism would eventually undo our work, that the world could only remain viable for humans for a short period of time, but we never intended to stay very long.”
“Wait a minute. Why didn’t your people warn the Orians about this years ago?” Kesney wondered.
“The Orians weren’t there yet.” Alessia said.
“But—” Kesney said.
“The Orian ancestors, I should say. They weren’t there because they came from my world later. They were Hinev’s followers on board the ship Narae, but they didn’t know that their descendants might face extinction when their ship lost contact with the other ship Hernendor and collided with Orian instead of Tiasenne. Since that time only three thousand Tiasennian years have passed in this system. Orian was nearing destruction even then, during the early rise of the Orian and Tiasennian civilizations.”
“So what happens when this planet-forming process fails?” Eiron wondered.
“When the core erupts, Orian could be thrown off its course a few degrees.” Alessia said.
“You think that could happen?” Eiron asked with a sinking feeling. If that happened, the strong changes in the gravitational fields that bound the two planets would surely cause climatic upheaval on Tiasenne as well.
“It’s every bit as bad as you think.” Alessia agreed. “Even here on Tiasenne, some of the oceans will be vaporized, and a significant amount of the atmosphere could be blown off into space.”
“You mean that if Orian goes, she’ll drag Tiasenne down with her?” Kesney asked, horrified.
“We’ll try to keep it from happening, but yes, something like this happens every fifteen thousand years or so—which is why there are so few native species on Tiasenne. The ones left are the only ones who can survive this kind of climactic cycle.” Alessia said. “With hope, though, Selesta can hold Tiasenne in its electromagnetic field and keep it stationary, but there’ll still be a lot of serious damage. Inen could be eradicated by tidal waves, and Mt. Jarus could erupt. There’s just no way of knowing how bad it could be.”
“If Mt. Jarus erupts, the ash will drop the surface temperature.” Eiron said, calculating. “We could be in for a long winter. A generation or more.”
“Wait a minute.” Kesney interrupted, with a trace of panic. “How much warning will we have before all this happens?”
“About a year,” Alessia said. “If we’re lucky. Sometimes there’s another eruption, a precursor to the big one. Though we might not know it’s coming at all until it’s too late.”
“This is looking pretty bleak,” Kesney said, shaking his head. “I’m beginning to think we should all just go to Bayria like you said.”
“We’d have to get the Orians to cooperate first.” Eiron reminded him.
“Forgive me for how this sounds, but why?” Kesney said, shaking his head. “If they won’t come with us, it’s not our fault.”
“Don’t tell me you’re not willing to give them a chance?” Eiron sighed. “After all that fuss about Alessia not doing anything, not letting the people of Tiasenne know what’s going on?”
Kesney shut his mouth, chagrined.
“Well, I’m not giving up,” Alessia said decisively. “I made a commitment to both these planets when I came here to check on Hinev’s colonists. I have to admit things are worse than I expected, but that isn’t a good enough excuse for me to abandon Hinev’s colonists.”
“‘Hinev’s colonists’?” Kesney echoed.
“Of course,” Alessia said, nodding. “Did you think the Tiasennians owned this system first? They also came here from the planet Seynorynael, from my home world.”
“But—the Orians don’t look like us,” Kesney blinked in surprise.
Then he remembe
red the food guide.
“Haven’t you noticed that your people share a common culture, language—the same humanoid form?” Alessia asked.
“Yes—except for the common culture part, I guess so.” Kesney admitted.
Alessia suppressed a smile. “There are differences, but for the most part, your peoples are virtually identical genetically. I suppose such a phenomenon might seem normal to those who have had no reason to question it. But consider—Orian’s rotational period is thirty of your hours, while Tiasenne’s is only eleven, and yet the average sleep period of both worlds is nine hours. Implication–both peoples follow the natural sleep cycle ingrained through eons of evolution on another world–Seynorynael.”
“But we aren’t the same.” Kesney insisted. “Just look at us.”
“Yes, I know,” Alessia conceded. “And that’s because there was more than one type of humanoid living on Seynorynael,” she continued. “The Federation called the natives of our planet type A; we were a pale, gray-skinned people because our lungs don’t absorb as much oxygen from our atmosphere or with the same hemoglobin as other humanoid races. And because of our blue-white star, Valeria—we developed a genetic trait to deflect most of the harmful gamma and X-rays that our sun gave off. And so, in intense blue light, all humanoids of type A glow with reflected light, which also explains why your people are like us, even though you wouldn’t need reflective skin to survive in the Rigell system.”
“But Eiron and I don’t reflect light like you.” Kesney insisted.
“You would if you’d lived on Seynorynael, though your aura wouldn’t be as strong, it’s true. There’s probably some type R32vg humanoid in you, Kesney. They came from a planet called Feiar, in a galaxy far from Seynorynael.”
“What were they like?” Kesney said, inviting her to elaborate, feigning less curiosity than he felt.
“Well, the Feiari had nearly colorless, translucent white skin and various shades of clear grey eyes.”
“Had? Something happened to them?” Kesney asked.
“An asteroid collision destroyed Feiar,” Alessia replied, “and the only survivors were those who had been forced to immigrate to Seynorynael in order to keep their planet under the imperial thumb. Am I boring you?” She asked suddenly.
“No, go on.” Kesney said, with a wave. Could this be true? Could he have been descended from creatures who had come from different planets, who had traveled across the galaxies?!!
“It was the Elders’ common practice,” Alessia continued, “to strip a planet of its aristocracy or political rulers and send our own governors to rule in their place, much to the shame of every Seynorynaelian explorer who learned of our cruelty, even though we were under the same yoke and the pawns of our Elders. In time these Feiari refugees established a colony called Celestian on Seynorynael and reverted to a simpler existence, segregating themselves and keeping their affairs private.”
“But—they weren’t all Fay-ar-ee were they?” Kesney guessed.
“No.” Alessia replied. “Many of our own people who were tired of their lives in Arialsynai joined them in their isolation, as did a few people from Kayria and Tulor, the oldest constituents of the Empire that had preserved a degree of sovereignty; most of the Kayrians and Tulorians had returned to their native worlds by that point in time, but those that had remained on Seynorynael finally joined Celestian.”
“Kayrians?” Kesney echoed. First Feiari, now these Kayrians, whatever they were, and Tulorians were also involved?”
Alessia nodded. “Our greatest scientist Fynals Hinev was himself half-Seynorynaelian and half-Kayrian. The first members of our vanished Federation, Kayrians, were type b humanoids. Highly rational, intuitive, too, and resourceful. Kayrians had white skin, dark hair, and blue, purple, or amethyst eyes the same color as milea stones.”
“Senka Forren has dark hair,” Eiron interrupted, remembering. “It’s the first thing you notice about him. His eyes are blue, though.”
Alessia nodded thoughtfully. “In the Celestian colony, there was some intermingling of the races which had been genetically altered for life on Seynorynael, and the reflective blue eyes and gray skin that we have became dominant to protect against our star’s radiation.”
“Interesting.” Eiron said thoughtfully.
“What is it?” Kesney turned to him.
“Well, now that I think about it, I’ve seen more than a few dark-haired people.” Eiron said, nodding.
“Where did we get amber eyes from, then?” Kesney asked.
“The Tulorians.” Alessia replied. “They belonged to the humanoid type C category, because they were the second humanoid race we discovered in our early explorations. Tulorians were productive, hard-working, energetic and emotional, often to excess, and all had different shades of tan skin, light brown hair, and honey-amber eyes.”
“I don’t know.” Kesney said, after a moment. “All these humanoids really formed our race?” Kesney asked, a bit skeptical about the idea that his own people were descended from so many distant cultures.
“There was also a very small number of type L2ij—the most diverse group, the yellow-star people.” Alessia said.
“L2ij?” Kesney echoed.
“Yes, it took a long time for us to discover any humanoids like them. And only two worlds harboring type L2ij humanoids existed in our galactic empire, but we found another in our travels.” Alessia said, remembering Kiel3. “Their people showed great genetic variety and adaptability. Their skin absorbed light to varying degrees, and so their skin tones were different hues of earth tones, from pale reddish sand to the color of dark tree bark.”
“People with brown-colored skin? Interesting.” Kesney said, suppressing a laugh. A fine crease forming between his brows as he leaned back dismissively and folded his arms across his chest.
“Well just imagine what you would look like to them!” Alessia cried.
“How?” Kesney wondered, sitting up again. “I think I look pretty normal.”
“They might think that we look like dead people, or something worse.”
“Worse?”
“Who knows?”
Kesney laughed, not considering how she knew this. “Imagine that. Well, it’s not likely I’m going to ever meet one, anyway, so why should I worry how I look to them?” he laughed.
“No, you’re right.”
“But if Tiasenne and Orian are both descended from the same people, why are the Orians darker than us?” Kesney wondered.
“I don’t have any evidence to give you,” Alessia admitted, “but I know a lot about the Celestian colony where Hinev’s colonists came from. The descendants of the lost planet Feiar, the type R32vg humanoids, were completely assimilated in Celestian along with the few Kayrians and Tulorians. Eventually, they became half-Seynorynaelian, although some remained more typically Feiari and some truly became half-race.
“The newest arrivals to Celestian, about a hundred years or so before the colony decided to escape the empire, were primarily Seynorynaelian. There were three times as many of them as the original Celestian colonists, so when the Celestian settlement divided on board the Narae and Hernendor, those who boarded Narae must have been the new Seynorynaelian arrivals. The remaining new arrivals and most of the older colonist stock must have boarded the Hernendor, and eventually became the Tiasennians.”
“Wait a minute.” Kesney put up a hand in protest.
“You have a question?” Alessia paused.
“How is it possible that so many different peoples could be genetically compatible enough to have children? The chances of humanoid life developing on so many worlds seems impossible to me.” Kesney shook his head. He had been remembering how strange he had considered the fact that Tiasennians and Orians could become attached and have children.
“You hit the real issue,” Alessia smiled, remembering the Great Debate between proponents of the First Race Theory and Marankeil’s biogeneticists. “Some of us believed all human life, and indeed all living s
pecies genetically related to us, to have evolved from a single race of humanoid progenitors and the plants and creatures they brought with them. The idea explained why a few races were virtually identical.”
“You mean, some ‘first race’ dispersed to other worlds, bringing all they needed to live with them. Animals and plants from some home world?”
“Exactly.” Alessia nodded, privately marveling at Eiron’s choice of words. “Still, Kesney was right about genetic compatibility being a problem. Many races did have to undergo chemical and genetic restructuring by the Empire physicians in order to assimilate themselves on Seynorynael.” Alessia said.
“I knew there had to be something else involved.” Kesney declared in triumph, folding his arms across his chest.
“As for children, intermingling of the races shouldn’t have been possible.” Alessia continued. “Except that our biogeneticists found Seynorynaelian chromosomes highly adaptable.”
“Adaptable?” Eiron echoed.
“Yes, more than you might think, and more than they are today even on Orian. Our individual chromosomes could create copies of themselves or be lost in order to combine with other humanoid DNA. That was why only Seynorynaelians of all the humanoid species were able to reproduce viable offspring with other types of humanoids, though Kayrians were also able to combine with their close genetic relations, type L2ij humanoids.
“Anyway, though it may seem strange to you, Tiasennians are also mostly Seynorynaelian.” Alessia concluded.
“But if we also belonged to some great galactic empire—how could we have forgotten?” Eiron wondered. “What I mean to say is, it seems like we’ve let ourselves fall into a dark age.”
“This is true,” she spoke regretfully, cryptically, eyeing the computer terminal in the room.
Just then, an alarm sounded, letting out a low, continuous drone.
“Sounds like the construction crew is back.” Alessia said, brightening. “They’ll be expecting us.”
“Are you up to any more?” Eiron whispered to Kesney as they stood. Kesney shrugged.
“How much more is there going to be?” he laughed uneasily.