But at times, she had discovered, the skymount could be too responsive. During maneuvering tests, it sometimes had trouble understanding the chain of command, and when her father and some of his subordinates had different thoughts about what maneuvers to attempt, the conflicting desires would leave the skymount confused. Qui’chiri was having similar problems with the females on her work crews. The skymount had proven willing to allocate available interior space and resources for various functions—dwelling space, medical bays, workshops and the like—but her department heads had differing priorities, leading to some structurally messy results. It did not help that this shakedown crew was assembled from various different skymounts, so the personnel were not used to working together.
At times, though, the mount grew tired of indulging others’ wishes and sought to satisfy its own urges for nourishment, companionship or play. Particularly play. The creatures devoted an inordinate amount of time to it—flying around each other in frivolous acrobatics, experimenting with wild shapechanges, engaging in complex interactive light shows which Troi likened to singing, or simply caressing and rubbing one another with their tendrils and bodies. It had proven difficult to keep this skymount focused on maneuvering drills when its schoolmates swam near to tempt it, distract it, beg it to join them in play.
Qui’chiri doubted the skymounts could truly understand the work ethic that would be required of them in the Hunt. It was not something they could attend to casually when they felt like it; it was a lifelong commitment, a calling, a passion. She knew the beasts had fire in them when it came to defending their own, but could they be trained to devote their lives to it, and to summon the same fire in defending other species?
Worse, although her father and the other males shared her frustration at the skymounts’ dilettantish attitude, they were hesitant to do anything about it. “They feel such reverence for the skymounts,” she explained to Troi as they walked through the makeshift control center together. “Thus it is hard for them to stand up and tell it to behave.”
She was concerned Troi might react badly to that, given how the empath was prone to resonate with the skymounts’ emotions. Father had told her about the events in Titan’s medical chamber, and how Troi had effectively become the skymounts. At the moment, though, the connection did not seem that intense. Troi seemed more surprised than anything else. “That seems odd to me,” she said. “I mean, considering that they don’t have any difficulty hunting and killing them.”
“Well, they are more used to that. It often takes young hunters time to acclimate to hunting skymounts. Either they are too reverential and hesitant to do what they must, or they are too bloodthirsty and must be taught proper reverence. This—it is a new balance, one they have not yet adjusted to.”
“And what about you, and the other females? Don’t you share the males’ reverence toward the star-jellies?”
“Of course I do. I suppose. We females, we are too busy with practical matters to give much thought to the spiritual. It makes it easier to adapt to this. Of course, the most practical thing to do would be to euthanize this beast and rip its guts out like normal. Nothing personal, of course,” she added, addressing it ceilingward. “But that is not the reality I have been given. This is the situation, so this is what we will adapt to.” Qui’chiri chuckled. “It is rarely so easy for males, who must debate the spiritual and cosmic ramifications of it all, and make displays of dominance at each other all the time disguised as policy disputes. I tell you, if this is to succeed at all, it will rely on the females.”
Troi smirked. “It usually does, doesn’t it?”
“Of course. One matriarch to another.”
Troi seemed surprised. “Oh, no, Qui’chiri. I’m not the matriarch of my ship.”
“No?”
“Oh, no. As I understand the role, the closest equivalent on Titanwould be the first officer, Commander Vale.”
Now it was Qui’chiri’s turn for surprise. “But…you are married to the captain.”
“That’s right. But in Starfleet we don’t assign jobs based on family ties. In fact, it’s fairly rare for married partners to serve on the same ship, at least in the command crew. I earned my post on Titandue to my qualifications and experience, not my relationship with Will Riker.”
Qui’chiri looked at her in puzzlement. “I see little distinction there. Experience and qualifications are what you learn from your parents, your siblings, your cousins.”
Troi nodded. “Yes, in a society like yours, where kin groups are the dominant institutions. My society does things differently, though.”
“I can only imagine.” She paused for a moment to check a work team’s efforts at devising a circulatory bypass for their water supplies. She did not want to rely solely on the skymount’s generosity to provide them with water, in case of emergency. “So…who isVale married to?”
“No one.”
“Really!”
Troi frowned. “Why so surprised? You aren’t married, are you? I mean, you still use your father’s family prefix.”
“Now I do. When I was young I was briefly wed, and became Se’chiri. But my husband was killed soon thereafter, and I returned home.” She reflected on the ill fortune of the Se’ha line. They had lost more than their share of sons over the years. They had lost their skymount in the battle that had taken her husband, and the survivors had had to take up residence on her father’s mount at subordinate status, when formerly they had been one of the leading families. They had even lost their place in the clan name. Over the years since, they had regained much of the standing they had lost. But a few months ago, a battle with branchers had taken all the elder Se’ha males, catapulting that tiresome whelp Se’hraqua to a status he was ill-prepared for. She suspected the impetuous dreamer would lead his line to ruin, and she was glad that her affiliation with it had ended so long before. “Thereafter I became mount-wed.”
“Mount-wed? You mean…you’re literally married to your ship?”
“Literally, technically, symbolically—I do not know the nuances as a male would. What I know is that the mounts need a support staff they can rely on not to leap out of the nest when a suitor calls from elsewhere. Mount-wed females are the backbone of the fleet.”
“You mean that mount-wedding gives you the social standing of a married adult female while still letting you focus on your obligation to your ship.”
Qui’chiri mulled it over. “That is a strange way of putting it. I suppose so, though.”
“It’s not so different from people in my society putting family aside to focus on their careers.”
“Perhaps not.” The skymount lurched a bit, and her eye flicked across the sensation feeds. “Oh, no. The mount is getting playful again. Those other two keep trying to tickle it to distraction, and they are succeeding.”
Troi laughed. “Well, that’s one thing we’ll never have to worry about on my ship.”
“Will you, well, think to it? Tell it to stay focused?”
“I’m trying, but you’ll need to learn to do that on your own. Maybe you can’t hear its thoughts, but that doesn’t mean it hears your thoughts any less than mine. Just…try to keep all your people concentrated on the goal. The jellies have a very collective psychology; they like to go along with the group.”
“All right.” She raised her voice. “Everyone, do you hear? Keep your focus on the goal, all of you, if we want it to follow!”
After a moment, the skymount shook off its schoolmates and resumed the drills, although it still seemed to have a certain insouciance to it. The thought somehow struck her as amusing, and Troi smiled, sensing it.
“So, about this mount-wedding custom,” Troi went on. “What about children? With a dangerous lifestyle like yours, wouldn’t mount-wedding remove a lot of potential mothers from eligibility?”