In Earth's Service (Mapped Space Book 2) (9 page)

Her demeanor was professional and feminine, yet in
spite of her beauty, I felt no rapport with her. That fundamental connection eliciting
everything from love to loathing which all humans felt toward each other was
missing, then I realized they’d meant exactly what they’d said:
synthesized
.

“You’re an android?”

“I am. As you know, Tau Cetins are incapable of
producing human vocal sounds. I will act as translator during your stay. If this
form is unsuitable, we can synthesize another.”

“No, you’re fine,” I said, adding, “they really made
you since we arrived?”

She nodded. “Ansara has no facilities for dealing
with human diplomats, so I was created for that purpose. I have a full
understanding of human customs, culture and languages for your convenience.”

I whistled softly, not because she – it – was a
flawless piece of engineering, but because they’d produced her in one of their prism
orbitals in a matter of minutes. “Fast work. Do you take requests?”

“Galactic Forum protocols prohibit transfers of
advanced technology to less developed species, Ambassador, with some exceptions
of course. Unfortunately, your civilization does not qualify for any exceptions
at this time.”

“What do we have to do to qualify?” I’d thought
galactic law prohibited advanced civilizations from accelerating primitive societies,
but I shouldn’t have been surprised there were exceptions. In a rules based pan-galactic
civilization that had evolved over millions of years, there seemed to be a law and
an exception for everything.

“A compendium of technology transfer protocols
endorsed by the Forum could be sent to your ship if you like.”

“Is it a quick read?”

“With addendums, annotations and case histories,
it would translate to forty three million words.”

“Tempting, but no thanks. I won’t be here that
long.”

“As you wish.”

“Do you have a name?”

“My design designation is ‘Artificial meta-human species
liaison’.”

“Hmm … it’s a bit dull, no offense.”

“I understand. Human emotionalism has a need to
anthropomorphize inanimate objects. I could adopt a simpler name if that would
make you more comfortable.”

“What’s a meta-human?”

“A human-like abstraction that is beyond human.”

“Beyond?”

“Millions of years beyond,” she said simply, “from
an engineering perspective.”

It was typically Tau Cetin. “OK, how about I call
you Meta for short? That satisfies my human emotional need to anthropomorphize
you.”

“As you wish, Ambassador. I will respond to Meta.”
She motioned for me to follow her. “This way.”

She led me to the center of the platform, then there
was a momentary blur of gray metal around us as we were transported down
through the tower to the ground. I found myself facing a large round room with lounge
chairs laid out in quarter circles at the center. Floor to ceiling windows
surrounded the room revealing a dark, misty forest beyond.

Meta led me through a rounded doorway to a tiled
patio where a solitary Tau Cetin sat by a small table. He looked like every
other member of his species I’d seen: almond green eyes, pale dappled skin, a
wide face with a small mouth, pointed chin and a tiny ridge-like nose. He rose
to greet me, speaking in short sharp clicks that rattled off his tongue with
machine-like speed.

“This is Jesorl,” Meta said. “He will advise you.”

“Thanks for agreeing to see me.”

Meta didn’t translate what I said, only Jesorl’s
clicking response to me. “What is it you require, Ambassador?” she asked on his
behalf.

“I’d like to talk to an Observer named Siyarn.”

Meta again translated for Jesorl, confirming this was
how we were going to communicate. “Observer Siyarn is unavailable.”

“When will he be available?” I’d counted on
contacting the one Tau Cetin I knew. Last time we met, he’d left me with the
impression that he was favorably disposed toward mankind.

“There is no possibility of contacting Observer Siyarn
at this time,” Meta replied. “Intermediary Jesorl has been assigned to advise you.
Please state what you require of us.”

Taking that as final, I removed the alien-tech
container from my jacket pocket. “I want you tell me what this is.”

“Why?”

“Because it relates to an impending Access Treaty
violation. If you can help me understand what it is, I hope to prevent it
occurring.” Technically, stealing alien-tech and kidnapping its owners was already
an infringement, but the Tau Cetins didn’t need to know that – not yet anyway.

Jesorl took the container and turned it over
slowly before replying. “We will do as you request. Do you wish to return to
your ship while we conduct our analysis?”

“No, I’ll wait. I know you guys work fast.”

* * * *

Meta showed me around Jesorl’s estate while
the Tau Cetins figured out what was in the cylinder. The house comprised a
circular hub containing family living areas and three spokes for sleeping
quarters and work spaces. It felt like a secluded country lodge hidden deep in
a tranquil, mist shrouded forest. Similar houses were visible in the distance,
each with their own landing tower and manicured paths, although none had
gardens. Tau Cetins may have loved trees, but clearly had no particular
affection for flowers.

“Does Jesorl live alone?” I asked, as we strolled along
a path leading away from the house.

“There are seven inhabitants, including the Intermediary,”
Meta replied. “Two are away with the Ansara Squadron. One is quite old.”

After Jesorl’s white walled house faded into the
mist, a small round vehicle barely wide enough for one passenger raced silently
through the trees, reminding me Ansara’s nature reserve appearance was a
carefully crafted illusion.

“Why no cities?”

“They are not to our liking.”

“But you had them once?”

“A long time ago,” she conceded. “Ansara’s
population density is low by Earth standards, but its inhabitants are more
closely connected on a planetary scale than on any human world.”

“How many live here?”

“Eight hundred million.”

“That’s more than I expected.”

“Eliminating agriculture and industry from the
surface creates a great deal more room for habitation, and of course, agricultural
and industrial production is more efficient in controlled, microgravity environments.”

“When did you make the switch, from cities I
mean?”

“We have lived this way for millions of years, Ambassador.”

When I’d first received my EIS briefings on the
Tau Cetins, it had seemed strange that such an advanced society had evolved
beyond urbanization, had abandoned cities to return to a simpler way of living.
Now that I was seeing it for myself, I understood why. They’d overcome every
challenge the universe had thrown at them only to adopt a lifestyle paralleling
their distant evolutionary origins, when their ancestors had roamed vast
forests in small groups foraging for food. It was their natural state, now invisibly
integrated with an all pervasive technology that served their every whim. What
at first seemed strangely regressive was in fact a triumph of their genius and
individuality. Technology no longer dictated how they lived, but served the ideal
of who and what they were. It was a lesson humanity had yet to learn.

We walked on in silence, between trees that rose high
above a sea of ferns carpeting the forest floor. In the canopy above, winged creatures
flew among the branches, rustling leaves from sudden movements and occasionally
screeching at each other, breaking the tranquility of the vast Ansaran
wilderness.

“Earth used to have forests like this,” I said
thoughtfully.

“I know,” Meta said. “Many trees on this world are
from Earth.”

“You have Earth trees here?” I asked surprised.

“Of course. Earth was one of the galaxy’s richest
biospheres before the human initiated mass extinction. Many civilizations took
life forms from your homeworld for use in their own planetary engineering
activities, or simply to feed their people.”

“I never knew that.”

“Earth flora and fauna are scattered across the
galaxy. It is a mark of how rare your homeworld was, even on a galactic scale.”
She pointed to a stand of massively tall trees to our left. “Those trees over
there are from Earth. You call them Sequoiadendron chaneyi. They are related to
your present day sequoia.”

“Related? Did you genetically reengineer them?”
The great trees looked similar to the few surviving sequoias I’d seen preserved
on Earth.

“They are from your Miocene epoch, five to twenty
three million years ago. They are extinct on Earth now. Perhaps I should have
said your sequoia are descended from them.”

“You brought them back to life?”

“No. Many civilizations study and catalogue the
life forms of other worlds. The richer the world, the greater the interest. When
we were engineering Ansara’s ecosystem, we selected species suited to this
world which we also found to be aesthetically pleasing.”

Suddenly it hit me. The TCs had terraformed Ansara
during Earth’s Miocene era, when a now extinct species of sequoia had been
alive on Earth. They hadn’t revived it, they’d transplanted it!

“Over there,” she continued, “that smaller tree
with the radiating leaves is a species you call Annularia. It is from your
Carboniferous period, three hundred million years ago.”

“Hey! Even I know the Tau Cetins aren’t that old.”

“It was a gift from another species, one that had
utilized it on their worlds.”

Aliens taking plant samples from Earth a third of
a billion years ago was almost impossible to conceive. “Anyone we know?”

“It was a Precursor Civilization, one that arose
long before the Tau Cetins.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“Such civilizations no longer involve themselves
in the Galactic Forum. Their responsibility in that regard has passed to us and
others like us.” She stopped walking, distracted for a moment, then added, “I
can say no more.”

“Is someone listening?”

“All knowledge is shared freely on Ansara. It is
an aspect of our interconnectedness.”

“Is that why you don’t translate what I say to
Jesorl, only what he says?”

“He hears through my ears in his language.”

“And you’re only allowed to translate, not tell me
about Precursors.”

“I exceeded the parameters of allowed discourse
with your species.”

“You made a mistake? I kind of like that you’re
not perfect. It’s something we have in common.”

“My awareness is still integrating.”

“With what?”

“My outer interacting awareness is simulated human,
my inner consciousness is imprinted Tau Cetin. They are quite different.
Getting them to work together takes time.”

“Sounds schizophrenic.”

“My human awareness was eager to share with you.”

“So, you’re still learning to channel your inner
Tau Cetin.” I was tempted to suggest she was an android with a multiple species
disorder, but restrained myself.

We reached a fork in the way. Meta chose the path taking
us in a circle around Jesorl’s house.

“What happens to you when I leave?” I asked.

“My resource elements will be resynthesized.”

“They’ll scrap you?”

“Unless they decide it would be more efficient to
retain me for future interactions with humans.”

“How do you feel about them ending your
existence?”

“I’m not opposed to it. I have no inner drive to
exist beyond my created purpose.”

“So no will to survive? Nothing?” I asked, strangely
revolted at the prospect of Meta being recycled.

“A survival instinct is a necessary requirement
for evolution, Ambassador, however, I’m not alive.”

“You think, you reason, you make mistakes, why
shouldn’t you survive?”

“Do you feel the same way about your ship’s
processing core?” She smiled, adding, “Maybe you would, if it looked human.”

“Right, I’m anthropomorphizing you again. Force of
habit.”

“And thinking is not the key to life, Ambassador, having
a soul is.”

I stopped, stunned. “Are you telling me Tau Cetins
have souls?”

“Every species has a center from which they
determine right from wrong. Such fundamental concepts are essential
prerequisites for a rules based universe built upon responsibility and ethical
principles acceptable to all sentient life. If there were no common agreement
on ethics, there could be no galactic civilization. Without each life form
having such a center, the universe would be chaotic. The strong would crush the
weak. No species could coexist with any other. Not every species responds
equally to the ethical impulse, but the vast majority do.”

“It’d be a dog eat dog universe all right, not a
place I’d want to live in.” Not when mankind was the weakest dog in town.

“It would be a universe you would be
unable
to live in. Your planet would have been conquered long before your species had
ever come into existence.”

It was an astonishing thought. Not having been
crushed before
Homo sapiens
had even evolved meant we’d been living in a
rules based universe all along. It was a universe governed by an ancient
galactic civilization created by species so old we’d never met them and
probably never would. If it had been the other alternative, our distant
ancestors would have been hunted down and killed before they’d ever climbed out
of the trees. Sometimes, it paid to be lucky.

Jase’s voice sounded urgently in my earpiece.
“Skipper, can you hear me?”

I activated my communicator. “Loud and clear.”

“The TCs have taken Izin! I tried stopping them, but
my weapons wouldn’t work.”

I turned to Meta. “What’s going on?”