“And now, here under the gaze of the Proplydian itself, the Pa’haquel can choose to do the same.”
For some time, there was silence, broken only by a few furtive murmurs between elders and advisors. Aq’hareq clearly was not convinced, but sensed the mood of the chamber and stayed quiet. Se’hraqua followed his lead.
Now the youngish elder Rhi’thath rose. “If we made this change, what would become of our traditions as a people? How could we ever ascend to manhood or eldership without the blood of skymounts to anoint us?”
“There are still other hunts in which you can win honor,” Riker said. “They don’t all have to be against skymounts.”
“But our most important ones do.”
“There may still be a solution to that,” Deanna said. “It was suggested to me by a fellow crew member, Orilly Malar. I’d like to ask her to tell you about it herself.”
After a bit of prompting, Orilly diffidently stepped forward. It had taken some doing to convince the Irriol cadet to come here; she still didn’t fully trust herself. But at the same time she had seen this as a way to help absolve her guilt, to offer something positive to make amends for the damage she’d done, and that had convinced her to come. “On my world of Lru-Irr,” she began slowly, “we have our own balance, and all living things are attuned to it. When…when there is need, sometimes the sick, elderly or…or injured members of a species—even my own species, sometimes—may allow themselves to be taken by predators. So that…so that the rest of their members may be spared, and the gestalt served. I…we have suggested to the jellies—the skymounts, sorry—that maybe their sick and elderly members, those who are past healing, could allow themselves to be ritually hunted, and end their lives swiftly rather than slowly and in pain. They, ah, they were uneasy with the thought…but they said they would consider it. That maybe you and they could negotiate something…along those lines.”
There was much muttering and discussion among the Conclave members. The empathic timbre was a mix of distaste and hope. “How can we settle for hunting the weak and feeble?” “We often take the weak and feeble as it is; there is no shame in it.” “But only to hunt volunteers? Could there be enough?” “We should give thanks that the skymounts would consent to it at all.” “And you saw how well they wielded the branchers. Imagine that power fighting for us instead of against us!”
Once the chatter settled, one of the matriarchs rose to ask a question. “What of the implementation of this? It requires telepaths for us to know the skymounts’ thoughts and wishes. Will you of Titanremain with us indefinitely?”
“I’m afraid we’d have to decline that honor,” Riker said. “We still have a mission of our own to resume. But there are other telepathic species in the region. The Vomnin are acquainted with several. You’ve excluded them from your alliance before because they were a security risk, but now that risk no longer exists.”
“If I may, sir,” Orilly said. She was terrified, Deanna could tell, but determined to get it out. “I’d like to stay with them,” she finally forced out in a rush of breath.
Riker and Deanna stared at her. “Cadet?” Riker asked.
“No disrespect to you or Titan,sir. It’s been an honor to serve with you. But…I think I can do more good here. I have a good rapport with the jellies…almost like the gestalt back home, except more conscious. These past few days, working with them to train the branchers…I’ve felt more content than I have since I left Lru-Irr.”
Deanna knelt to bring herself to Orilly’s eye level. “Malar, are you sure? You’ve worked so hard on your Starfleet training. And you have friends on Titan,you know that, right?”
One of Orilly’s trunk-hands patted her shoulder. “I know, Counselor. But it might not be forever. The Pa’haquel travel all over this part of space…we may run into each other again.”
Shortly thereafter, a vote was called. Many of the elders and family heads were slow to decide. The results trickled in slowly, and it was hard to get a sense of the outcome. But finally Qui’hibra’s proposal passed by a narrow but decisive margin. “So it is decided,” Qui’hibra announced. “From now on, the Pa’haquel will hunt alongside the skymounts and the branchers. We enter this covenant under the gaze of the Proplydian, and pray that it grant us its blessing, and its guidance in finding this new balance.”
But Aq’hareq, after a moment of building anger, shot to his feet. “My fleet-clan will not abide by the Conclave’s ruling! It is blasphemy and cannot stand! My clan will find a way to carry on the Hunt. We will go on killing skymounts as tradition demands. And any Pa’haquel who stand in our way will die as well!”
“The skymounts will not forgive your kills,” Qui’hibra shot back. “They will be tainted, corrupt. Your reanimations will fail, your clan will die.”
“That is for the Spirit to decide. Now you will leave my skymount. Along with any elders who would abide by this corrupt ruling. Any who wish to join me in the fight to preserve the Spirit’s traditions may remain, regardless of their clan.”
The declaration brought many angry replies from the high elders. “Outrageous!” “No one else dictates to my clan!” “You claim to stand for tradition?” But Deanna sensed much division. Many of the junior elders and family heads were tempted to stand with Aq’hareq, and his prestige and seniority carried much weight. But for the most part, loyalty to their own clans won out. Most chose to follow their high elders and beam back to their own fleets, but a few broke ranks to stand with Aq’hareq.
Finally only the Qui’Tir’Ieq contingent was left. Deanna looked to Se’hraqua, expecting him to stand with Aq’hareq. He and Qui’hibra locked gazes for a long moment. “Do not be a fool, Se’hraqua,” the elder said. “Do not defy the Conclave.”
“The Conclave is nothing,” Aq’hareq said. “It has grown weak and illegitimate. Come with us, Se’hraqua, and we will build a new Conclave, a new tribe. Come with me and you can kill a skymount of your own! Not some feeble old one that would have died soon anyway, but a vigorous, vital one, worthy to be the command mount of your own fleet, the birthplace of your own clan!”
Deanna felt his excitement. Aq’hareq offered him the fulfillment of all his desires, of the demands of his strongest instincts. But Qui’hibra’s stare still held him, refused to let him go. “Would you truly wish to make your choice based on that, Hunter? On your own gains, your own ambitions? Is that a righteous choice in service to the Spirit?”
“I…” Se’hraqua faltered. “I wish to defend our traditions. To keep things as they were meant to be.”
“I know you love our traditions, cherish the ancient ways. But you also love the skymounts, as much as I do. Possibly more, in your way—you are young, and your passions still burn hotter than mine. But I cannot tell you how deeply it has moved me to get to know the skymounts as living allies, to fight and hunt by their side, to feel them respond willingly to my needs and wishes. To know them, not as cold, dead machines, but as friends and partners. It has revived in me a love of the skymounts that I had almost forgotten. Imagine what it could be like for you, Se’hraqua.
“And imagine how it would be to go with Aq’hareq. To struggle to chase skymounts that could see you coming, that could brush off your attacks, that could drain your mounts of power and leave you stranded, unable to warp. And even if you could manage to kill one, imagine knowing that its spirit would never forgive you. Knowing that its body would only be a slave, not a gift. And knowing that you had chosen that path, not for love of the Spirit or the mounts, but for love of your own ambition and greed. Is that the life you would choose, Hunter? Is a clan of your own worth the price of your soul?”