A Pavane Across the Sea of Time: Blank Magic, #8

Part 1; Long Ago

Chapter 1; In the Beginning

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About 10,000,000 years Ante Migration

At first it was hot and then it was cold. The heat and the cold came in cycles, and the primitive creature learned. Its basic form was that of a crinoid, or sea lilly: a submarine animal that resembled a plant. Then other sensations added to its experience, currents and motion, sometimes in cycles, and sometimes at random. The creature didn't care. Occasionally, another of its kind rooted nearby, and sometimes, the two joined together. The composite thrived better than either of the individuals, and hence, when more of its fellows joined, the creature became more resilient to the perils of the sea. It observed and grew. This continued for several million years without much change. 

Then came the first dying. The massive vulcanism that caused it only lasted a few thousand years; a mere blip in the timeline, but its effects, were still being felt half a million years later. The creature survived, but not without some trauma. The trauma caused parts of it to adapt, and these parts grew at the expense of other parts, which died or atrophied. The cycles of bounty and scarcity continued, and the creature ‘somehow’ survived. Many extinction cycles later, the creature had changed beyond recognition. It no longer raced to grow larger with the passing years. In fact, that strategy had proved disastrous, during several global climate changes. Now, it was content to keep its active parts to a few miles of shallows, along a stretch of coastline only six hundred miles long.

It had also grown in other ways; it had evolved and specialised, so that its various parts were adapted to symbiotic functions, providing for the whole creature. It could think, after a fashion, but the sheer ‘size’ of its ‘rudimentary nervous system’, limited its speed of thought. However, agility of mind hadn't really been necessary for its existence, until now.

The problem was, that it wasn't the only survivor of the extinction cycles, nor was it the most ‘ambitious’ evolver. Whilst it had been content to bask in the warm, shallow, coastal waters, other lifeforms had ventured onto land, grown limbs and brains, and had started to influence their environments. The creature observed the changes that these dry-landers made to their environment, and it reacted.

******

During the ensuing few hundred thousand years, the creature in the shallows adapted itself rapidly. Some deep instinct told it that, in order to cope with the new circumstances on shore, it needed to draw on more of its resources centrally. Previously, the composite being had only been ‘vaguely’ aware of what was happening at its extremities. Often, by the time the message was received at its nominal centre of consciousness, the event that had triggered the message was long in the past.

It was a matter of basic chemistry; the neural signals that passed along the complex network of fibres and tubes were chemical, and hence, were limited to close physical association with the cells within its structure. It was similar to a chromatographic process. Thus any single message only passed along the creature at a few hundred metres per hour, and, a message from the outer edges might take a couple of months to reach the centre. If the creature was to cope with its new, fast, neighbours, it needed to improve its communications.

It had evolved many times over the millennia, and the rudiments of some of those aborted paths, were still built into parts of its corporeal DNA.

For as long as it had existed, it had been used to using sunlight as its main source of energy. Millions of plant-like growths absorbed light from the twin suns, and each had the inbuilt sense to know when the suns were in the sky. Thus, it remembered that it could sense light.

The creature revived more memories from its time when it had existed in the deeps of the ocean. One of these was the genetic knowledge of bioluminescence. Within a thousand years, the lizards that inhabited the shoreline, observed a new phenomenon. The shallows had started to glow and pulse with light, and these lights seemed to ripple into the distance very quickly.

With this new communication technology, the creature's thought processes accelerated a thousandfold. Along with the increase in its own complexity, there came a sense of self, and messages now travelled the length of its being in a couple of hours, instead of months. It became the being that we now call the Kraken.

One consequence of this evolution, was that the Kraken was able to react quickly. An underwater landslide, that would have covered a significant portion of its body, was felt by the central core as it was starting. The Kraken reacted. Flotation bladders generated gas in a hundred million strands of wrack. Mile-long parts of the Kraken's body bobbed upwards through the falling mud. Instead of complete obliteration, nearly twenty percent of the affected parts survived. If it had been aware of the concept, the Kraken might have considered ‘this’, a significant victory.

Empowered by its new nervous system, other sensations began to impinge on the Kraken's consciousness, and it observed, and learned. By the time of the next mini ice age, only three millennia later, the Kraken had speeded up its neural network by another factor of a hundred. Moreover, it had learned to piggy back onto the neural networks of others, using its long neglected electrical senses. It knew of the minds of the Jötunnfiskur, and it could herd giant shoals of sharks by controlling the electric fields in the water. 

All too soon, the new sensations that the Kraken experienced became too cumbersome to be stored in the distributed living matrix of its millions of trillions of cells, and the Kraken adapted itself again. Large syphon-feeder masses were created at key points within the matrix. The massive, but delicate, cellular aggregations, were protected by gigantic clamshell structures built from its own coral. It used these large, armoured, organs to store its memory. These organs, analogous to the brains of lesser animals, contained dense clusters of neural cells, and specialised bundles of translucent fibres that communicated with the rest of the Kraken's being.

Over the next few hundreds of thousands of years the Kraken's mind grew, and it began to take an interest in the world. It was in no hurry, and it was fascinated, not by the ever changing ocean, but by the events that were taking place on dry land.

Ch 2; Civilisation

About 20,000 Ante Migration

The chief had had a vision. His tribe was the most powerful group for miles around and its conquests had been the source of his vision. Previously the chief had been content to rule over the collection of families that formed his village. However, something inside him wanted more. He’d seen the termites build huge structures where an uncountable number of individuals dwelled. If he could rule over that many individuals then he would be truly powerful: he wanted a city. Therefore, he had increased the size of his tribe by conquering all the nearby tribes, and forcing their populations into slavery. Several dozen years of conquest had given the chief thousands of slaves. The slaves would build the city, but the chief had neglected to foresee the consequences of his actions. The slaves could only build his dream if they remained alive. To remain alive they would need food. In fact, there were several occasions when the slaves started eating each other. However, if that idea caught on, the thousands of slaves would soon eat each other into oblivion.

He had delegated the problem to H’anish. H’anish wasn't a war leader, he was too scrawny for such work. No, H’anish was a thinker, and he knew there were other talents that ensured survival in the competitive world of the tribe. He had a patron and his patron was the chief of chiefs, who kept H'anish in food and mates, in return for his cleverness.

Normally, food came in the form of other animals, but the sheer effort wasted in hunting was counter-productive. H'anish had had an idea: a single giant sauropod could feed a tribe for a week, but they were difficult to hunt without a lot of effort. But what if you didn't have to hunt them?  The main problem was that the herds were constantly on the move, seeking new foliage to graze on. All H’anish had to do was provide the sauropod's food needs in one place. Sauropods weren't fussy eaters, basically plants were plants and the most prolific plants were the vatnisbrowth tubers that grew in the shallow water. In fact, the dung from the sauropods would encourage their growth massively.

H'anish had persuaded the chief to try his idea, and it had worked. The only casualties were the peripheral water plants trampled or accidentally eaten by the giant reptiles... but they didn’t matter. Now, two years later, the city was beginning to rise out of the jungle clearing that they’d found. The slave population had trebled, and it was no longer possible to feed them their normal carnivorous diet. Hence, their rations now included the raw tuber. They didn’t thrive on it, but then again, they didn’t die. The natural groves of tuber soon became insufficient, and H’anish had been forced to solve this by inventing agriculture. Slaves constructed vast shallow lagoons along the shore, and these were seeded with hundreds of thousands of saltwater vatnisbrowth tubers. Marine life thrived in amongst the fronds, where even the most ambitious jötunnfiskur didn’t dare venture in case they got entangled in the tough roots.

This type of agriculture had another benefit. The marine life, that was accidentally harvested with the tubers, supplemented the diet of the slaves quite well. H’anish was justly proud of his efforts right up until the point when he made a comment about the chief’s new mate. This didn’t totally terminate his involvement with the slave food problem;  he made one final contribution as an extra helping of protein.

However his ideas survived him, and they were still supplying food to the city ten thousand years later.

******

A’hotem gazed out across the eternal city. It now covered many thousands of thousands of square paces and he felt a sense of pride in himself, and the generations of his architect ancestors, who had built most of what he could see. They had achieved so much: the temples, the broad boulevards, the bustling marketplace, the great tombs and, of course, the tens of thousands of buildings that housed the city’s citizenry. The only blot on his personal horizon was the slave quarter. Despite trying to erect high screens to wall it off, the place exuded a miasma that seemed to soak through and contaminate everything around it.

Still, slaves were a necessary evil; moving the huge blocks of sandstone that made up a temple column took power. Despite his ingenious skills with block, tackle and rope, the power had to be provided by slaves. The thought crossed his mind for the hundredth time, If only he could breed bigger slaves then he wouldn’t need as many, but this time he dwelled on it. Why couldn’t he breed bigger slaves? Why, in fact, hadn’t anyone thought of it before? He decided to talk it over with E’karna; she was always having crazy ideas.

In principle, you could selectively breed slaves for the right characteristics, E’karna said, The problem is that it would take a thousand years to achieve it. Now, if you wanted to breed super strong rats, that would be a much better proposition. Rats become capable of producing other rats within a few months of being born, and they naturally produce many more kits in each litter.

Well, why can’t we use super strong rats to haul stone? A’hotem asked.

Rats can’t be controlled like slaves can. What you need is a slave that reproduces as fast as a rat, but who is amenable to control,

Oh, A’hotem said, I suppose that means I’m stuck with slaves then.

It was a good idea though, E’karna said, I have a friend who is studying worms and she’s had some success in hybridising them with ordinary pond frags. It’s quite a promising field of research. I’ll talk it over with her and see what she says.

How are are pond frags and worms connected, other than one eats the other? A’hotem asked.

Oh, it isn’t like that. She takes the essential material from one creature’s egg and introduces it into the eggs of another creature. It’s a little like what you were suggesting, except it cuts out all the messy breeding-cycle stuff. It’s very tricky work and so far she’s not had much success. She calls the creatures she makes, Polyune Hybrid Constructs.

That sounds like a mouthful. What do you think of the research?

I think it shows promise. In fact I’m thinking of joining her team. I’ve a little put aside, and I’m going to see if I can buy my way in.

Well, I trust your judgement; do you think she’d welcome another investor? Obviously I can’t help with the work, but I can, at least, make sure you don’t starve whilst you’re working.

I’m sure she’ll be amenable to any offer of help. At the moment she can’t get any of the politicians to take her seriously.

I can understand that. There’s not a lot of brain between their ears. Do you know that, only last week, one of them asked me why we had to dig foundations for the buildings.

E’karna laughed, Did you try to explain?

I just said... So that the rain has somewhere to go. A’hotem replied, laughing himself.

****** 

As A’hotem approached the small nondescript building he was thinking about how strange it was that people hung onto outdated terms. Such philosophising had become a habit in recent years, and it was a sign that he was getting older. The building was about two hundred paces away, and his mind had latched onto the term paces. Originally a pace was just the measure of a person’s stride, but the standard pace was now defined by the length of a piece of metal alloy that was kept in the vaults of the temple. It was the same with miles; originally this had just been the abbreviation for a distance of a thousand paces, but almost nobody thought of it like that nowadays. He shrugged and pulled his mind back to his current task. He was here to check on his investments, not to muse on etymology.

I can’t believe the progress you’ve made in just ten years, A’hotem said.

E’karna smiled, Well it did help that you financed us, and supplied the vast majority of the experimental subjects.  The science of Polyune Hybrid Constructs has come on in leaps and bounds after we isolated the part of us that regrows lost limbs. It is the secret to being able to weld creatures; especially reptiles, together. Would you like to see our prize specimen?

Of course, that’s why I came here instead of attending yet another royal banquet, A’hotem replied.

It’s in here, E’karna said, leading him through a reed curtain into a brightly-lit, clean, stone-paved room. About half way into the space a fine metal screen descended from ceiling to floor. Behind the screen several people were moving about, all dressed in tight coveralls that included form-fitting gloves. The people also wore matching helmets that had some sort of transparent membrane stretched across the faceplate.

The helmets are to protect the staff from the effects of the various agents and catalysts that we are using to achieve the melding of the experimental egg batches. Don’t worry, we’re quite safe, we wouldn’t want to let any of those agents to escape into the outside. The same impermeable transparent skin that we use in the helmets covers the barrier between us and the working area. It’s an adaptation of the nictitating membranes of the giant sauropods.

E’karna went over to one wall and rang a bell. One of the suited figures on the other side of the barrier looked up and nodded to her.

K’seltin is the chief researcher on this project, E’karna said, He will put the example creature in the decontamination chamber and start the process. We can pick the creature up on this side of the barrier..

A few minutes later she pulled a wheeled trolley out of a cupboard at one side of the room. On it sat a peculiar creature. It looked like a turtle with too many legs and a very ornate double shell. E’karna pushed the creature off the trolley and took a length of thick rope from a coil on the floor. Then, she wound one end through a hook on the shell. She extended the rope out fully and gave the free end to A’hotem. Brace yourself, she ordered.

A’hotem looked at the creature as E’karna gave a low whistle, and then he saw the shell begin to turn. The rope went taut and soon, despite his best efforts, he was being dragged across the room with his claws skidding on the smooth stone of the floor.  E’karna gave another low whistle, and suddenly the rope stopped moving.

Very impressive, A’hotem said, but I can achieve the same effect with a couple of slaves.

In answer E’karna uncoiled the rope from the creature and fixed it around a large iron spike that had been driven into the floor. Again she gave a low whistle and again the rope tightened, but nothing else appeared to happen.

The loud crack as the rope snapped made A’hotem jump. He knew the breaking strain of one of those ropes. They were designed to haul three pace blocks, which weighed as much as ten people. The creature must have been exerting an enormous force to snap it, but the creature itself hadn’t moved an inch.

E’karna smiled as she explained, The creature is a plant/ animal hybrid. In fact it’s a hybrid of multiple strains. The plant parts grow and extend below the creature into the underlying rock, following small fissures and cracks. This anchors the creature solidly. The double shell is separated by ten layers of muscle adapted from sauropod tissue, and the shell itself has a set of protrusions like a ratchet which only allow it to rotate in one direction.

What powers it? A’hotem asked.

Ah, that’s another development, E’karna said, and she handed him a bulging pouch filled with some sort of liquid. This is the body sac of another of our creatures, a Sugarpod. The synthetic creature is a benign parasite of the Vatnisbrowth tuber. It siphons off some of the starches that the tuber grows naturally, and converts them to sugars which it stores as a hyper concentrated solution. The sac is placed in the digestive receptacle of the hybrid and this fuels the musculature.

A’hotem turned to E’karna, Very impressive. I’ll take ten of the creatures, when can you deliver them?

E’karna shook her head, This is just a prototype, wait until you see its big brother. Then we can talk price.

******

A’hotem nodded and bowed low. The person in front of him was none other than the supreme head of the senate in the new city of Mela and he was speaking. The ruler’s voice could be heard across the whole of the vast square in front of the temple.

"We are gathered today to honour Architect A’hotem who has pleased the gods by building this magnificent temple. We also honour his pioneering work in the creation of the caste of Polikan without whom this building would not exist.

As you will all know, over the past thirty years, Polikans have proliferated beyond all expectations and have become indispensable to modern society. Even those of you who stand at the edges of the square can hear my voice quite clearly due to these Polikans positioned either side of this dais.

And those of you who have come all the way from Jula for this dedication would, at one time, have spent weeks travelling the four hundred miles between our two great cities rather than the single day using Polikan transport. Therefore, in dedicating this temple, we must remember all those who have tirelessly dedicated themselves to the development of new strains of Polikan.

And so, it is with great pleasure that I name this temple Doma Polikan and dedicate its use to the worship of Teth; the god of Animals."

Two hours later the guest of honour at the reception was making polite conversation with a senator’s mate. She was an uninteresting female and it was obvious that this was the reason why she was alone. It suited A’hotem; he couldn’t stand formal events and the sooner he could leave the better. He was just about to excuse himself to answer a call of nature when he saw his friend E’karna also leaving. He hurried to catch her up. Neither of them were in their prime any more, but their long association was comfortable. Her company would be preferable to the incessant babble of the reception.

E’karna saw him coming, and when he caught up she said, Hello, old friend. You’re another that can’t stand the babble any longer.

Quite, A’hotem answered, Five more minutes of that senator’s wife and I would cheerfully have joined the ancestors early.

E’karna looked around, Careful, ever since this new lot took over, ancestor worship has gone out of favour.

Oh surely it’s not come to that, A’hotem said.

You live in Roma. Attitudes there are more fixed, but here in Jura the new religions have a lot of political muscle. There are calls to make Jura an independent state and to ban the old religion permanently.

People can’t be that foolish. However, I came out of that reception to get away from politics and politicians. How is the work with the Polikans going?

E’karna groaned, Not you as well. Why can’t people call them by their proper name, they are Polyune Hybrid Constructs?

Probably because the average citizen wouldn’t know what it meant. Someone obviously heard the proper name and decided to shorten it so that Joe public’s brain didn’t overheat.

All the same, you should know better. E’karna said.

OK, OK, so what’s new in the world of Polyune Hybrid Constructs?

To tell you the truth, I’m not sure. Ever since the technology to combine creatures in the egg became commonplace, people are so secretive it’s hard to tell fact from rumour.

Why?

Money, of course. Everyone wants the latest gadget, and so new strains are kept under wraps in case a rival steals the idea. However, there are some worrying developments.

Go on.

The rumours are that the developers aren’t content just to make machines. They want to incorporate a degree of autonomy into them. Rather than driving a transport construct themselves they want to just tell it where to take them.

Is that such a bad thing?

Yes. To enable that degree of autonomy the construct needs intelligence, and the word is that, the intelligence is provided by including sentient DNA into the construct eggs. They get that DNA from slaves.

So what?

Sometimes, I forget that you’re an architect. The fact that some constructs contain pieces of our genetic material means that they are, however different, part of our race. But even if that bit of philosophy doesn’t disturb you. The fact that they are now subject to the same diseases as we are, means that they are potential carriers.

Again I say, so what?

Let me explain in words of one syllable. If constructs are susceptible to the same diseases that we are, then they can pass them on to us. However a construct’s intrinsic creation includes many powerful mutating agents. These agents could easily change diseases in an unpredictable way. Even if you don’t care about the use of slaves, then you should care that any new, intelligent construct could have the power to inadvertently wipe us all out.

Oh, I don’t think anyone would be that careless. Surely there’s tests and things that would detect any harmful effects before they happen?

Suit yourself, E’karna said, but most developers these days are greedy. All they are bothered about is beating their rivals to the market. They let the customers do the checks for them.

Oh dear. So you want us to go back to the bad old days?

I’m not saying that. What’s wrong with a bit of basic caution? Why can’t the senate regulate and test new constructs before they become public. Leaving it up to their new gods is asking for trouble.

I think you’re worrying about nothing. In any case, we’ve both lived for a hundred years, and soon we’ll be gone. Let the next generation do the worrying; we’re too old.

******

B’narth came into the room and all her friends gave a gasp.

How on earth did you ever get your parents to agree to it? her friend G’lian asked.

They’ve not seen it yet, but what can they do? It’s so cool.

Doesn’t it feel awkward? another friend asked.

No, not at all, in fact I hardly notice it. Do you like it? B’narth said. She gave a twirl, and the ornate living fan of iridescent spines growing from her shoulders and upper back, opened into its full glory. She could tell that her friends were impressed.

Do you think, now that you’ve got one, I could get one like it? G’lian asked.

I don’t see why not. It would make us look like we’re a clan. B’narth said.

******

It’s a big decision, the mother said, You can’t change your mind later. You do know that?

Yes mother, but I don’t want to be an artisan. I can’t understand art or mathematics. G’leer said.

But you could learn. his mother pleaded.

No mother, I’ve made up my mind. I’m strong and agile. I’ll make an excellent warrior. I’ve been along to the recruitment station and they say that I could become a leader in time.

Yes, but it means that you will have to alter your whole body, and leave the artisan caste to join the warriors.

I know that, and don’t think you can persuade me otherwise. Besides it’s already too late I’ve started the treatments, and already I’m feeling much stronger.

Oh dear, what have you done? the mother said, bursting into tears.

******

The sounds of battle were silent now and Commander F’derkyn wandered through the corpses. They stretched for miles along the wide plain that bordered the lowlands, and the only movement was caused by an occasional scavenger who still prowled amongst the dead. Even the pterani had gorged themselves silly, and they were now perched in their nests sleeping off their feast. Sometimes, as he’d got older, F’derkyn wondered about the sense of it all. The war had been going on for fifty years now; since before he’d been born, and it looked like it was set to continue for fifty more. The victory had been his, and the enemy commander had surrendered, but more than half of the people who’d fought had been killed or injured.

Still, he thought, I’m alive and I’ll live to fight another day. The prospect didn’t fill him with much satisfaction any more, and he wondered how the news of the victory would be received by the people. Oh, the priests would be overjoyed, and they would organise celebrations, but F’derkyn wondered whether the majority of the population of the five cities would take much notice.

All that would be for later. He’d leave to go back to Po in the morning to give his report, and the remains of his troops would start the unpalatable task of reclamation. The grisly task of stripping the corpses of their weapons and equipment would fall to his own people. The war had been going on for so long that most troops fought with salvaged weapons; there weren’t enough funds to have new ones made. He looked down at one unfortunate. The insignia it wore belonged to his own regiment, but the armour was definitely enemy designed. He was glad that he would be long gone before it was re-cycled yet again.

At least F’derkyn didn’t have to worry about the enemy. There were few prisoners to take care of. Most of the enemy’s survivors would be well on their way south, and back to their homes, by now. Only a few officers had been captured, and their interrogation and execution was just a formality. His musings were interrupted by the appearance of his adjutant.

Sir, I have a message from the temple at Po. Her eminence the high priestess has instructed that the enemy prisoners be returned to the capital for trial. She requests that you bring them along with your own staff, when you return to give your report.

F’derkyn thought, I wonder why she wants them?... Probably for a show trial. As if the unlucky bastards haven’t had enough already. She’ll want them publicly humiliated, and they’ll be tortured until they will agree to say anything she tells them to.

Well, orders are orders, Can you see to the arrangements, lad. I want to think and take a little time for myself before I get back to the tasks of command.

The junior looked around, Congratulations Sir, it was a great victory. However, F’derkyn could hear the uncertainty in the young male’s words.

Yes, F’derkyn said, all these dead. It’s a pity that we have to solve breeding rights issues by war these days. In olden times it was just a heated argument, or even personal combat between two rivals. Did you know that, lad?

Yes sir, they taught us that in the history lessons in the academy. the junior replied.

F’derkyn thumped his chest in the traditional salute, Carry on, lad.

The junior returned the salute, turned and hurried off into the darkness.

******

From his vantage point in the front row, F’derkyn could see that the crowd’s heart wasn’t in it. The priests had taken turns in showcasing each of the enemy officer’s final moments. Every officer had recanted their heresy before they’d been executed. They’d had no choice. Now, it was the turn of the High Priestess, herself. F’derkyn could see the minor prelates and monks as they briefly suppressed each section of the audience into silence, then her eminence’s voice rang out.

My people. You have witnessed our triumph over the heretics from the Southern cities and you have heard how, even their warriors have admitted the truth of our cause. No longer will we tolerate the pollution to our race brought about by the indiscriminate interbreeding of castes. It was God’s will that each of us was born into our caste, and it is God’s will that our children remain pure. Our celebration today honours our great general F’derkyn and his loyal troops, in their victory over the mongrel wretches of our enemy. She paused for several seconds then screamed at the top of her voice, We are the pure! ... The God commands! ... Death to all mongrels!

The priests and prelates picked up their cue, The God commands. Death to all mongrels. Then the crowd took up the chant. It went on for another half an hour. F’derkyn joined in the frenzy and it was only later that he wondered why.

The next day he awoke with the most tremendous hangover. That was unusual. He’d been careful not to drink too much and he’d left the celebrations as soon as he could. There must have been something in the wine. As if to confirm his suspicions, his adjutant came in looking orange in the gills. Not you as well? F’derkyn asked.

The adjutant nodded, I’m afraid I must have eaten something that disagreed with me, Sir.

It wasn’t the wine? F’derkyn asked.

I don’t think so sir. I only had the one glass to take the official toast. Normally, I try to keep a clear head on these occasions. the adjutant replied.

A wise move, lad, F’derkyn said.

So the wine was spiked, he thought privately, No wonder he’d joined in the chant with the crowd, Her eminence was making sure of her audience, and, it appeared, her generals as well. He smiled, Well two can play at that game. But first I have a war to win.

******

Ten years later F’derkyn was the guest of honour at the final victory celebrations. It had been a hard ten years, and he was weary. He’d changed tack. No longer were his battles and strategies text-book. He’d used every trick in the book to defeat the southerners, and his gamble had paid off. Instead of dragging on for another fifty years the war was over in ten.

The high priestess was speaking... And so, as we commit the bodies of our enemies to the victory pyre, I call upon you, the people, to praise our God who has given us this great victory. Suddenly her voice cut off. The twin polikan constructs who had been amplifying her voice for the crowd seemed to be having trouble breathing.

It was his cue. He’d sat patiently and watched, as his trusted officers had gone amongst the crowd and silenced the priests and prelates permanently. His people stood ready, as F’derkyn rose to his feet. He walked over to the priestess and took her hand in a vice-like grip. Suddenly the audio polikans appeared to have recovered; except their orders had changed. Instead of amplifying the priestess’s protests, it was F’derkyn’s voice that the crowd heard.

My fellow citizens. He paused and the crowd suddenly became quiet, I give thanks to the great god who has given us this victory.  As I received the final surrender of the enemy, the God spoke to me. The God has given us peace, but the God demands a price for that peace. The God demands that a sacrifice be made. For the next ten years, on this day, the high priest and the senior general of the army must be immolated in fire. I honour the God, and so I am willing to obey. He raised his voice until it was a shout, The God commands... sacrifice the priest.

F’derkyn smiled as the trigger words took hold of the crowd. It only managed to chant the words twice before F’derkyn strode straight into the inferno of the victory pyre dragging the screaming high priestess after him.

******

The amphitheatre in Ana was almost full of young members of the Skrá caste who were embarking on their undergraduate studies. At the front of the assembly, a venerable Skrá stood flanked by an ancient audio polikan. He tapped the polikan’s head and the tap was amplified so that it echoed around the room. The students shifted in their seats and quietened.

Students and fellow Skrá, this is the first day of your advanced studies at this venerable seat of learning. I would like to welcome you all by revising what we know of our civilisation, and how the social structure of it has achieved it’s current optimum balance...

After an hour the lecture came to an end.

"F’derkyn’s sacrifice signified the end of the war and we have remained at peace since then. Unsurprisingly, both the priesthood and military became unpopular career choices for quite some time. As you will recall from your earlier studies, for some unknown reason, sacrificing the chief priest on a yearly basis continued for some years after the God’s edict had lapsed.

Now all ten of our great cities have enjoyed peace for over five centuries and our civilisation has continued to grow. We have explored the shores of our great continent, and there are already expeditions to the lands north of the equator. It is ironic to consider that the sixty years war was fought over nothing. Even before it started, it was clear to most intelligent individuals that natural inter-caste breeding was nigh impossible. This was because of the changes in the race’s genetic makeup that had been made during the period of uncontrolled Polyune hybridisation.

And so, students, we come to the present day where we have the four castes. As you know the decree against shifting caste, unless under strictly controlled conditions, was passed twelve generations ago. Now our caste genetics are fixed in law and are inviolable. We have the Sagyr caste who remain the closest to our original genetic heritage and above them we have the enhanced castes. The Drengr warriors have the genetic makeup to fight and defend our borders from all enemies. The artisan caste, Skrá, to which I and the majority of you in this room belong, are the creators and thinkers who guide the other castes. Then, at the top of our social structure, are the hereditary Dragul leaders who excel at organisation and the rules that mould society. Our paths in this life are fixed by our caste but that doesn’t mean that we cannot express our own individuality. Therefore I urge you to find your calling, whether it be in the healing arts, the pure arts or in the sciences, and follow it whilst you attend this institution."

Ch 3; Investigations

About 2000 years Ante Migration.

The Kraken observed the growth of the Dreki civilisation, but it never interfered. Occasionally interaction was unavoidable, as when Dreki sailing craft dragged anchors through its matrix. However, a small adaptation of its skeletal structure soon discouraged the practice. It pulled the offending vessel down into the depths; usually along with its crew.

For their part, the Dreki learned from the survivors very quickly. It was inadvisable to transit certain well defined channels, or to try to moor along the shallows on that particular piece of coastline. Soon every novice Dreki sailor learned from his or her elder shipmates about the fearsome monster; the Baatsatur, who lay in wait for the unwary and those who strayed from the ordained routes. The monster, it was said, could devour a boat and crew in a single bite, but sometimes it just devoured the boat leaving the crew to the sharks.

******

It’s the bloody Melanese again. They sneak in at sunset in their longboats wearing their thermal covers. Then they plunder the crops for the sugar pods. When our farmers go to collect the tubers the next day, half the sugar pods are missing. It’s getting to the point that we are having to ration them to ensure that vital polikans keep going.

The supervisor nodded, I’ll tell the Skrá, but I doubt that he’ll do anything. He’s too wrapped up chasing a new mate at present and he spends most of his time at the university.

Isn’t there anything we can do? his subordinate asked.

Well we can’t keep on like this, I’m afraid we’ll have to contact the Drengr ourselves

Can we do that?

Of course we can, it’s a matter of civic concern, and the task of the Drengr is to enforce civic rules, the supervisor replied. He wasn’t as confident as he sounded. He knew that the Drengr might just ignore the complaint because it came from the Sagyr class, but he didn’t want to lose face in front of his worker.

He made the report but, as he’d surmised, the local Drengr officer ignored it and so it was another month before the situation became so severe that the authorities themselves started to feel the pinch. Then the Drengr were forced to act.

******

Captain F’derkyn of the garrison at Jel was proud of his ancestry, in fact his brood mother had regaled him with tales of his illustrious ancestor all through his formative years. There was only one problem; he wasn’t a war hero. In fact, he didn’t relish the thought of battle at all. He was more interested in the causes of conflict and their resolutions. However, this particular problem had dropped on his desk.

Superficially, it was a straightforward act of organised theft by a group originating from the city of Mela further to the south. What F’derkyn couldn’t understand was why it was happening. Mela was on the coast and therefore should have had access to plentiful supplies of sugar pods compared to lake Jel’s meagre output.

Fortunately, because of his famous ancestor, he had once been invited to a social event at the military headquarters of the neighbouring city. There, he’d met the commander of the Melanesian force and they had discovered that they had a common interest in solving peculiar crimes. Therefore, instead of mobilising a force, Captain F’derkyn sent a message to the commander requesting a meeting. The message was dispatched by semaphore, and the reply came back the following day. The commander had also had reports of skirmishes between raiders and farmers in the coastal areas around his city. F’derkyn sent a reply agreeing to a meeting and then ordered a fast transport to be readied. Two days later the Captain and commander met. After a few hours comparing notes they both agreed that the raids were the symptoms of a much more widespread problem. The commander took the unusual step of deputising F’derkyn to pursue the investigation in Mela, effectively allowing the captain authority in both regions. His only condition for the cooperation was that F’derkyn would be assisted by one of his own staff.

The captain watched the farmer carefully. The farmer was obviously rattled, and she kept glancing between himself and his colleague, as if she was uncertain as to who was in charge. The captain’s new assistant, H’kalyn, was certainly the scariest of the trio, but F’derkyn didn’t mind. Often, you learned more from people when they were a little nervous.

So you are telling me that the reason why your production is down is because of the raids. However, you haven’t reported any raids for six months. Your crops should have recovered in six months, so what is really going on? H’kalyn barked. The captain’s new assistant was a sergeant, correction... an extremely attractive sergeant, whose soft looks belied the steel determination of the female herself. F’derkyn couldn’t help it, he was impressed.

The farmer appeared to give up and she stuttered, It isn’t my fault, yer honours. There just isn’t enough pods to go round. One time every clump of browth had half a dozen pods, but now you are lucky if you get one in a clump. I’ve tried everything I know to improve the yield, tilling the rows to encourage fresh flow, weeding out anything that looks diseased, but nothing seems to work. I tried telling the Skrá in charge but he thinks that I’m just slacking. I’m not. Honestly. It’s not me it’s the browth. The farmer huddled down as if she was expecting