Because Native Matters Advisory had real creatures to concern itself with, it met regularly, unlike certain other advisories, to discuss real issues and problems. Often these included personnel problems, a nuisance that knowledgable persons accepted as inseparable from any human institution.
“We have received a new complaint about Zilia Makepeace,” the current Chair of the Advisory told his members. The Chair was Rasiel Plum, a stout and elderly Phansuri gentleman of generally unruffled disposition, who happened, also, to be one of the twenty-one official Members of Authority.
“Zilia Makepeace?” murmured a new Advisory member to his neighbor.
“On Hobbs Land,” came the response.
“She’s still accusing the Hobbs Land people of killing off the Departed,” said Rasiel Plum.
“Who’s the complaint from, Rasiel? asked one of the younger members, a Thykerite. “Someone reliable?”
“The CEO. Dern Blass. He says she makes accusations at most Central Management meetings, but he’s recently picked up on the fact that she makes accusations out in the settlements, as well.
“So?”
“So he was in a settlement, in disguise, pretending to be a drifter while selling spice graters or System world cheeses or something, and someone told him Zilia Makepeace is still accusing the settlers of killing off the Departed.”
“What has the Makepeace woman said recently?”
Rasiel fumbled with the keys of the information stage, refreshing his memory. “She says the children of Settlement One have reconstructed a ruined temple, and she finds that highly suspicious.”
General sighs and one, quickly stifled, giggle. At the far end of the table, someone began to whistle recognizably though almost tunelessly, a bawdy song, “The Beheading of Sarafin Crowr.” Sarafin had been a notable witch on Phansure, disposed of in remote though historic times by her fellow villagers, and the tune was often used, particularly at sporting events, to suggest imminent eradication of the opposing side.
“Back on Ahabar, my kids and some others in the neighborhood built a first-century fortification out of insublocks once,” said a member who had not, like many others, spent his whole life at Authority. “It cost me half a year’s pay to get the thing disassembled and the blocks taken back to the site they’d swiped them from. Kids do things like that.”
“We could send the Makepeace woman to Ninfadel. The Porsa don’t build anything.” A Moon and Belt representative made this tentative suggestion, which was greeted with ribald cheers.
“We could simply fire her,” said someone else in a grumpy tone. High Baidee, probably.
“Retrain her,” suggested a third, more mildly.
“Knock her off,” growled a fourth, the whistler.
“We could deal with the problem by recommending to Ancient Monuments Panel that they send a monuments survey team to Hobb’s Land,” Rasiel Plum replied, “which is what the Makepeace woman asks for. The easy way out is to recommend just that. We haven’t sent a survey team to Hobb’s Land in …” He punched up Advisory involvement and Hobb’s Land on the desktop stage, asking for coincident files and referring to the sequence number attached to the account of the most recent team. Another quick punch gave him the elapsed time in lifeyears. “Not in thirty-three lifeyears, and even then it was only an aerial mapping of sites,” he concluded.
“We’ve always kept a staff member there,” complained an elderly Ahabarian woman. “Since Settlement. Since the last Departed died. Even though there was nothing to look after. None of the staff has ever done anything at all on Hobbs Land. Why does this one have to do anything?”
“Maybe that’s Zilia’s problem,” Rasiel Plum smiled. “That she has nothing to do or look after. But before we remove her, reprove her, or replace her, shouldn’t we be absolutely sure she’s wrong?”
The members looked around for guidance, for expression, for some indication by smile or frown or nod that their colleagues felt one way or another about the question. No one seemed to feel strongly; no one seemed to be even slightly doubtful that there was nothing-at-all on Hobb’s Land to be concerned about.
“Since she’s asked for a survey of the villages and temples,” Rasiel added, helpfully, “referring the matter to Ancient Monuments Panel with our recommendation will be responsive.”
The members shifted and muttered. Being responsive was a Good Thing. Sending a team was not that Big a Deal. If a survey of the monuments hadn’t been done yet, now was as good a time as any. The AM Panel’s budget for the year was not yet spent. By all means, they muttered. Recommend a survey team.
“May I have a formal utterance to that effect?” Rasiel Plum suggested, promptly receiving several.
The Ancient Monuments Panel received the recommendation with general disinterest. After arguing about it in desultory fashion, the Panel decided to implement the recommendation with a three-man Baidee team from Thyker, mostly because there was a three-man team on Thyker which was immediately available. They also decided not to tell Zilia Makepeace the team was coming until it was on the way.
“The last thing we need,” the Panel leader agreed, “is manufactured evidence.”
• When blight had struck Thyker a lifetime ago, there had been enormous loss of both human and animal life, as well as the loss of many native species. Even after the disease had been controlled, no one had been sure the Blight would not strike again, and there had been wave after wave of emigration to the other habitable words. In the Belt, Bounce and Pedaria particularly had received numerous non-Baidee immigrants from Thyker, and there had been considerable thought given by some groups to looking far out, outside the orbit of Phansure, for homes, though there wasn’t much out there of interest.
Next beyond Phansure was Celphius, a frozen planet whose gem-rich rings were inhabited mostly by prospectors. Beyond Celphius was giant Tandorees, with more rings and dozens
