Some Time Later….

The meeting had concluded with much less acrimony. There was a broad consensus about the outlines of the future of this place, though there were a great many details yet to be worked out.

It would be a town, classed for both urban and rural use. The Maris and Prenn lands would be the boundaries, and a new civic government would be put in place. The Tribe would become a fraternal and charitable organization; Tribe Maris would become its own company.

Thurfrit supposed he should feel sad about it, but he had burned through his sadness back in the Federation. Now he just felt empty and drained.

It was natural for him to gravitate to this open patch of land at the base of the Great Tree, where the bones of his ancestors lay. And the bones of his friends, and half of the ashes of Yamanu. It was Gae who had made the decision to have him cremated. Half of his ashes had been buried in the Imperial Cemetery outside Tuaut, with full state honors. Half of them had been spread here, mixed with the many anonymous others whose bodies fed the tree and the land. Gae had said that she understood the need for Yamma to have a gravesite, but she said – and Thurfrit agreed – that he would be happier to lie here.

As for the anonymous others he lay with, well…they were not completely anonymous, not anymore. A monument had been erected, a block cut from the same type of stone as Aisell’s rock. A flagpole was set beside it, with an Imperial banner fluttering from it. The stone slab itself read:

Beneath this stone lie

The men and women

Who built the Tribe.

They fought and loved

Worked and played

Lived and died

That we might have our future.

Honor their lives

By living yours

So that the people of the future

May say the same of you.

Thurfrit touched the rock, and wiped away a tear. “I wish you guys could tell me if I was being an idiot,” he said. “Luke, I could use you telling me some wisdom from Earth, Quendra, I could use you telling me to stop moping and work, and Yamma…well, Gae needs you more than I do, but damn it, when you were done….”

He rubbed his eyes. “I know, you’d all tell me I was doing fine, but you told me that even when I wasn’t. Well, Luke and Yamma did. Quen…if I was being a fool, you’d tell me.”

He sighed, and leaned his forehead against the rock. “I miss you all. More than I can bear, sometimes.”

He stood like that for a moment, then backed up, and started.

“Sorry. Heard just the last part – I didn’t mean to, but…well, it is the worst part of this, isn’t it?”

Thurfrit nodded. “Hi, Molly. Yeah, it is.”

Molly looked at the monument. “I hear everyone’s getting life extension.”

“It had to be done,” Thurfrit said.

“Yeah, it did,” Molly said. “You know, half my foster kids are ‘older’ than me now? Flower’s a grandma. Seems insane…not more insane than all the rest of this, but insane anyhow.”

Molly sighed. “That’s why I never married, you know. Dated, but…couldn’t imagine outliving my husband by a hundred years. Don’t know if that’ll change now. Charlotte’s done it twice, she seems happy. But….”

She shook her head. “Anyhow, that was my decision. I came here, I didn’t have to stay – I did. Could have headed to Avalon, could go back to Earth now…but this is home. And whatever happened in the past, all we have is the future.”

“It’s true,” Thurfrit said.

He was quiet, for a moment, before he said, “Molly, you’ve read about the Great Disaster, haven’t you?”

“Of course. Terrible accident – though it must not have seemed that way to the poor people here.”

“It was. You know, when Aezhay and I did decide to get married…the people who caused it are her aunt and uncle.”

“Damn. That had to be awkward.”

“It was,” Thurfrit said, “Very.”

* * *

“You’ve been quiet,” Serpil Maris said to his brother, as they walked along the creek. It was a crisp fall day, and the sun was high in the mid-day sky, but still, there seemed to be a cloud hovering over two of the four people walking the land.

“Not a lot of good memories here,” Orisek said.

“There were,” Serpil’s sister-in-law said. “But they got buried by one bad one.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Joli, Serpil’s wife, said. “It was an accident.”

“Preventable, stupid one,” Orisek said. “So why did the girls want to meet us out here?”

“Don’t know,” Serpil said. “They said they had a surprise.”

“Hey!” Lezah waived, as her parents, aunt, and uncle approached. “Glad you could come. We’ve set a picnic over by the rock.”

They had done more than set a simple blanket; they’d pulled a couple tables together and draped a tablecloth upon it; there was enough food for a small army set up, and a basket at the side of the table. Eyazon was sitting nervously in one of the chairs; Aisell was off on her whirlwind tour, and wouldn’t be back for a very long time, but her rock stood silently in her place.

They swapped greetings, and sat down. And the four older Marises immediately noticed something about their plates, even against the sun.

“Leelee,” Joli said, “these are…where did you get Royal Berries?”

“There’s a bush on the property,” Aezhay said.

“There is?” Orisek said. “Where?”

“Back in the woods, past the far field,” Aezhay said, gesturing toward the distance, where a robotic combine was busily cutting down stalks of silagas. (The Tribe had known for a very long time that the appearance of those things was reason to head back for the Great Tree; happily, they now had ample warning and a schedule of activity to work with.)

“Only been there once,” Niki said. “It…we didn’t look around much.”

“So you’re harvesting them?” Orisek asked. “Get another year or two out of the farm, then, that’s good.”

“We didn’t have to destroy the bush,” Lezah said. “We had help.”

Lezah’s father blinked. “You were able to harvest them without destroying the bush? Leelee…if you did that….”

“Emperor’s whiskers,” Joli said. “Leezah, Zhay, you’re going to be rich.”

“We’re going to be rich,” Leezah corrected. “You both still own ten percent of the farm each.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Niki,” Orisek said, but she shook her head.

“We don’t deserve it, Ori. I haven’t minded getting the occasional few credits when the girls do better than break even, but…Lezah, Zhay, we left a stain on this land. If it’s paying out, it’s because it’s decided to stop punishing you for our mistakes. Give the money to the Human Owners Society, or some other charity that helps them. No…no,” she corrected herself. “Give it to that one that has the human who’s supposed to be the leader.”

“That’s a joke,” Orisek said.

“You keep saying that, what if it isn’t?” Niki said, wringing her hands.

“Don’t make a scene, dear.”

“She isn’t. She’s family, Uncle Ori,” Aezhay said. She turned to her aunt, and said, “What do you mean, Aunt Niki?”

Niki Init Maris looked down. “We killed humans. So many. And it was bad, when I thought it was us killing animals, it was the worst thing…you don’t know, and I don’t want you ever to know, what it was like. But I don’t think….”

“Niki read The Wild Girl, and ever since, she’s been convinced that humans aren’t just animals,” Orisek said.

“If you’d read it…Eyrn Fitzgerald talks about Earth in the book. It’s not some primitive tribal land. Did you know they have computers now? They even have chemical rockets! Animals don’t build rockets, Ori. They don’t. And if they weren’t just animals, if they were people…we should be in prison, for what we did.”

“But they are animals,” Serpil said. “At least, they aren’t Class One Sentients.”

Serpil sighed. “Dr. Faid, you’ve been quiet – you must have an opinion on whether humans are people or not?”

Eyazon shifted slightly uncomfortably; he was aware this might not endear him to his future father-in-law. But he knew it was the truth, and moreover, that his future wife would want him to say it. “They most certainly are,” Eyazon said. “Cognitive research has shown it to be true for some time. And I just read an excellent paper from Drs. Pria and Mavoy discussing human cultural behaviors, based on their observations from Avalon. It’s encountering some resistance…but then, new ideas often do.”

“You see? And besides, I don’t care what the law says, or even what science says – no offense, doctor,” Niki replied. “It’s not about that. If they’re really people, then the law saying they aren’t just means the law is as wrong as we were.”

“It was an accident.”

Niki blinked at that, and for half a second, she thought she was going crazy, because the voice that she heard was tied to nobody at the table.

But after a moment, she realized it was. There was a human, standing by the centerpiece. No – three humans. One was an older man, with dark skin, his head shaved clean – he was the one who talked. The two beside him were a younger woman with red hair and a balding younger man with a beard. They were dressed somewhat unusually, but neatly.

“Didn’t want to wait for your introduction?” Lezah asked, wryly.

“It seemed the time to reveal ourselves. I am Drugar, the leader of the Tribe of humans that live on this property. This is Quendra, our Elder Huntress, and Thurfrit, our Elder Chronicler. You are the Angry Woman, or so our stories call you, but I suspect that our stories are wrong.”

Niki pulled her jaw up, so she could say, simply, “Some of you survived.”

The words came out in a whisper, almost a prayer, and she covered her face and wept.

“You…you were…you….” Orisek sputtered, putting his arm around his wife. “I…legally….”

“We’re not here to seek damages,” Thurfrit said. “Or to accuse you. We wanted to meet with you, because we are the partners of your nieces.”

“What do you mean, ‘partners?’” Serpil asked.

“Daddy, they harvest the glowberries – Royal Berries – for us,” Aezhay said. “They do a great job of it. They were doing it for years before we met them. They don’t hurt the plant – in fact, because of the way they harvest, they increase its yield.”

Joli looked down at the glowing berries on her plate. “Gods…you harvested these?”

“Not us specifically,” Quendra said. “The Gatherers did. But then, we all work together.”

Niki wiped away her tears, and said, “Your stories tell of us…you must know what we did.”

“Our stories were not kind to you,” Thurfrit said. “At least, not until we met Lezah, and Aisell, and Aezhay. They told us what happened.”

“It doesn’t make it better,” Niki said. “It doesn’t make it right.”

“Niki, you don’t…they’re just humans,” Orisek said.

Niki looked at her husband, and said, “Ori…shut up.”

She looked back at the people on the table, and leaned down near them. Thurfrit thought that if you’d told him that one day, the Angry Woman would be leaning in close to inspect him…well, he’d have assumed The Prenn was there too, and he was having a horrible nightmare.

“Drugar…and Quendra…and Thurfrit,” she said. “And there are others?”

“Many others,” Drugar said. “We have made an agreement; we harvest the glowberries, and the Guardians – Lezah, Aisell, and Aezhay – protect the Tribe’s land and people. We split what we make evenly. We all benefit from the arrangement – we are protected, and we profit together.”

“Ori,” Niki said, “listen to this man speak. And tell me he does not understand things as well as you or I do.” She turned back to Drugar. “If you’re able to harvest a glowberry bush even three times a year, that would be enough to keep the farm above water.”

“Above water?” Quendra asked.

“It’s a phrase of theirs,” Thurfrit said. “It means they make more money than they spend.”

“Right,” Joli said. “So you invited us here to tell us you were splitting our profits with them?”

“No, we’re only splitting ours,” Lezah said. “We’re giving them fifty percent of the revenue, we’re taking thirty, you guys get ten percent for each family.”

“Like Hell,” Serpil said. “I can’t speak for Ori, but Leelee, we put the farm in your hands. This is the kind of business decision that we empowered you to make. They get fifty, you get half of our ten to add to the thirty.”

“And half of ours,” Niki said.

“Niki,” Orisek said.

“Ori, don’t you get it?” she said. “This land…it turned on us. It turned on us after what we did. But it’s producing now, for the girls…because they found the people who lived here, and they didn’t hurt them, they didn’t drive them out, or enslave them, or sell them for pets…they treated them as partners, and the land is providing. Have you ever seen the silagas fields so full? This is a bountiful harvest. The land is rewarding our nieces and their friends for their leap of faith.”

“That’s just superstition,” Serpil said.

“Perhaps,” Drugar said. “Though there may be some wisdom in what she says. Our people believe that all living things are bound together in harmony. Your daughters did more than just work with us; they saved us from being removed from our home by the group you call TETH.”

“Why would TETH try to steal you from your home?” Joli asked.

“Why does TETH do anything?” Orisek said. “They’re a bunch of clowns. So they stopped them?”

“Yes,” Quendra said. “My husband and I were left behind, we went to ask for your nieces’ help…and they gave it without hesitation. They saved more of us than died in the Great Disaster.”

“The Great Disaster,” Niki said. Of course, it was the Great Disaster. “Gods, I…Ori…please.”

Orisek had been fighting his wife’s notions about human sapience; part of it had been his belief that she wanted to believe in it because of her guilt, and that she was trying to make her crimes even worse in her head. But part of it, he would admit, was because if she was right…his guilt was greater than he could have imagined, and he had felt it just as keenly as her.

“I know that legally, you can’t be partners,” he said. “But I assume my nieces are smart enough that they’ve protected your interests, right?”

“Absolutely,” Lezah said. “Held in trust, the three of us and two friends we trust. You should know, Aunt Niki – one of them is Eyrn Fitzgerald. You’ve got no idea how happy she’d be to hear her book helped you see humans were people. That’s why she wrote it.”

“Thank her for me,” Niki said. “Please.”

“We’ll do more than that. Next time you’re in Rutger, you should drop by and visit her.”

“We will,” Niki said.

“And so you’ve got the legalities covered,” Orisek said. “And even if you hadn’t, morally.…even if you aren’t people the way we are, what we did to you…You girls arranged it right, and I want half of our share going back to you girls – we all give up half of our share in the farm. If they’re harvesting glowberries, those shares are worth three times what they were worth before anyhow. But….”

Orisek smiled at his wife. “Niki’s right. I don’t know that we deserve profit on the land. So…after taxes…what’s a good human charity that isn’t TETH?”

“Aunt Niki named it, sort of – the Aenur Foundation,” Aezhay said.

“It’s run by Gae Neutha,” Lezah added.

“Gae Neutha? Your flaky friend from high school?” Serpil asked.

“She isn’t flaky. She just thinks humans are people. Which they are.”

“This will take some getting used to, though,” Serpil said. “You have to admit it.”

“We’ve worked with them for long enough to know, daddy,” Aezhay said. “Heck, Thurfrit here’s a better writer than I am. Frankly, smarter than I am.”

“You got into the University at Bozedam, Zhay, you’re no slouch,” her mother said.

“I know, mommy, and he’s still smarter than I am.”

“Not true at all,” Thurfrit said. “Aezhay is very bright.”

Aezhay smirked. “Not going to add that I sometimes need to knuckle down and work?”

“Now, my…Aezhay, I would never say that to your parents,” Thurfrit said, with a matching one.

“Even though it’s true,” Niki sighed.

“So we’re partners with humans,” Orisek said. “This was not what I was expecting to hear, but if you are able to harvest glowberries and willing to share the profits, that bush will pay off the debt on this land soon.”

“There are three bushes, now,” Drugar said, “and we’re at a fifteen-harvest-per-bush-per-year pace.”

Orisek blinked. “I do wonder if morally, it would be okay if we kept…maybe…one percent of the profits?”

Drugar nodded, and smiled. “The past is in the past. We can only change the future. You are willing to work with us. We will be willing to work with you.”

Niki choked back a sob. “You’re better people than we deserve you to be,” she said.

“And you, ma’am, are better people than we had feared you were,” Drugar replied.

“So I’d like to propose a toast,” Lezah said.

“Wait, wait,” Serpil said. “Before we toast our partnership…am I the only one who caught that?”

“Caught what?” Orisek said.

Serpil looked at his youngest daughter, then to the human on the table, then back to her, then back to him. Then back to her.

“Zhay,” he said, “Thurfrit is a good friend of yours, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” Aezhay said.

Serpil leaned back in his chair. “My darling daughter…no, no. Mr. Thurfrit,” he said, and he leaned quite close to the human on the table. Thurfrit couldn’t help but notice that both Drugar and Quendra instinctively took a few steps away from him. “Mr. Thurfrit…exactly how good is the friendship between you and my daughter?”

* * *

“Oh, Gods,” Molly laughed. “What do you say to that?”

“What could I say? I told him the truth. Perhaps not the wisest course of action, but it was the truth.”

Molly chuckled. “And how’d he take it?”

“Well, after Mother Joli went to get him, and he took a few breaths, and then took a walk with Orisek, and came back…he still wasn’t thrilled. But he wasn’t murderous. He was…concerned. Concerned about Aezhay. And he had every right to be. He wasn’t sure I was a person, and he knew that most of the Empire was sure I was not. He’d followed the Freeman family’s difficulties; he knew what we were in for. He told me on the day we traded necklaces that he worried about us. But he also told me that if his daughters saw me as a person, he knew I must be one…and if his daughter loved me, then he’d support us. In the end, the profits from the farm have more than supported them, of course – but more than that, he’s been a good father-in-law.”

“He got three great grandkids. Change was good for him. And change has been good for the Tribe.”

“Not just change,” Thurfrit said. “Drugar could have refused to work with the nieces of the Angry Woman, much less meet with her and the Tall Man. But he did, because he knew that it didn’t make any sense for us to hold on to hatred. Orisek and Niki have provided millions of credits to the Foundation over the years, and we’ve invested it, and made more. If we’d refused to forgive them, humans might still be free, the Tribe might still be secure – it was not the decisive factor in our successes – but the Foundation would be running leaner, and able to provide less in aid. That was Drugar’s decision, to forgive them. And it was a good one.”

Thurfrit was quiet for a long moment, before he said, “Molly, things will change here, and you won’t outlive everyone who lives here. Don’t be afraid to be loved.”

Molly gave Thurfrit a bear hug. “And you…don’t be afraid that you’re an idiot, Thurfrit. God knows you aren’t.”

Thurfrit straightened his suitcoat, and picked up his pad. “Hello, Aranta,” he said. “I want you to set up an appointment for me. You’re going to think I’m crazy, but I assure you, I am not…..”

Molly watched Thurfrit head up the path to the house, and laughed as she heard him say, “No, I haven’t lost my mind, give her a call….”

The Tribe was changing, but her whole life had been change; she’d left the fields of Nebraska for the lights of California for a tube on Titan Station for the fields of Korafia. It hadn’t been easy. But she had more than a dozen people in the Tribe who called her mom, and dozens more who called her grandma, and though it would be easy to lament that it made her old…she might look like she was in her forties, but she had been a former actress; she looked good for a woman in her forties. She looked great for a woman approaching 200.

There had been a couple people who’d asked her out over the past few months, and one, in particular, had been hard to say no to.

He was still single, and only 33 in Earth years. And gorgeous.

She smiled. What the hell. You only live once, right?

* * *

“Hello, I have an appointment with Mr. Maris?”

The woman at the front desk looked up at the woman, and just about choked. Even having known this was on the calendar…she was amazed to see her in real life.

“Yes…yes. Right, please…have a seat. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

Lyroo walked over to the benches in the waiting room and sat down. To say she was uncomfortable was a vast understatement. It wasn’t like everyone was staring at her; some people in the room were pointedly not staring at her, or acknowledging her at all.

She wasn’t sure if this was why she’d been asked here. If it was…well, she’d meant what she’d told Darren. She wanted to make amends, somehow. If part of her penance was being yelled at by Thurfrit Maris, then she’d take it.

“Ms. Prenn,” the receptionist said, “Mr. Maris will see you now.”

Lyroo got up and walked to the door, and nearly fainted when she saw the person tasked with bringing her to him.

“Gae,” Lyroo said. “I’m so very sorry.”

Gae nodded, and without saying a word, gestured toward the hallway.

Lyroo followed Gae through the offices of the Foundation, which were packed and busy as could be. She followed Gae through the aisles, and back to a row of senior management offices. They passed by the empty one marked “Dr. Yamanu Neutha, President,” to the one next to it, which read “Thurfrit Maris, President.”

Gae opened the door, and waived Lyroo into the room. Lyroo walked in, and saw that Aezhay Maris was already there, sitting behind the desk. Thurfrit sat in a desk on the desk, and Gae sat down in a chair beside the desk.

Lyroo sat down in the chair across from them, feeling very much as if she was facing an interrogation. Fighting years of habit, she forced herself to look first to the small man on the table.

“Mr. Maris,” she said, “I’m not sure why you invited me here today…but I did want to express my condolences on the loss of Dr. Neutha. I wish….”

She looked at Gae, and said, “I wish that I could tell Dr. Neutha…the Empire lost a great man. I wish, very dearly, that it had not.”

Gae glanced at Thurfrit briefly, before saying, “Lyroo, I wish you could tell Yamma that, because there would have been little that would have given him more satisfaction.”

“Ms. Prenn,” Thurfrit said, “I happened to get a call from Darren Xanthopolous the other day. He told me you’d apologized to him.”

“Well…yes,” Lyroo replied. “He didn’t really accept it, but honestly…he doesn’t have to.”

“You’re right, he doesn’t,” Thurfrit said. “Nobody is owed forgiveness, after all. Tell me, what’s going to happen with your HOS facilities?”

Lyroo sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know. People – Titans – keep bringing humans to us, as if they’re strays that we can adopt out, instead of people. We’ve run out of money; we’re basically two months from complete collapse. We’re trying to work with the government to find them temporary housing. Hopefully now that Loona Armac’s at the helm of the Empire, she’ll help get them stabilized.”

“I heard that you’re trying to educate the ones you have on hand,” Aezhay said.

“I’ve hurt so many generations of people,” Lyroo said. “I just…I want to help at least one on my way out. The program has been successful – we’ve moved several hundred humans through to citizenship. It’s not perfect, and it’s running on vapor, but…it’s as much as we can do right now. We’re going to do it until we have to shut the doors.”

Thurfrit rose from his desk, and walked toward her. “Lyroo Prenn. It is funny how life works, isn’t it? I grew up in terror of your very name. And now…you’re here, at my call, without even wondering why I asked you. You fear me.”

“I don’t fear you,” she said, softly. “I owe you. I have frakked up again and again, and if you tell me to come and take abuse…I will accept it.”

“Now that would be a waste of your time,” Thurfrit said. “I didn’t ask you here so I could gloat, Lyroo. I asked you here because I think we can help each other.”

Lyroo looked at him carefully. “What do you mean?”

“You have facilities,” Gae said. “And thousands of people who’ve been dropped in your lap, with nowhere to go…but for the moment, they have you.”

“We have connections,” Aezhay added. “And money to support your programs.”

“There is a great need for transitional facilities in the Empire,” Thurfrit said. “We could spend a lot of time and the government’s money building them. Or, if you are willing to relinquish some control, and share power with some humans…we could support facilities that already exist and are already providing services.”

Gae passed a pad across the desk, and Lyroo looked at it. “You…you’re serious?”

“We will need changes. But fewer than you think. The main one is allowing people to come and go freely – they are people, after all.”

“That…I hadn’t thought about it, but yes, that makes sense,” Lyroo said. She looked through the proposal. “You…still have my name on here.”

“Right, obviously,” Thurfrit said. “We don’t have anyone on staff who’s coordinated the number of sites you have. You’re going to have oversight, and you aren’t working alone, but….”

Lyroo looked up. “You trust me to do this? After…after everything I’ve done?”

Aezhay cleared her throat, but Thurfrit ignored her; Aezhay did not trust Lyroo, but it wasn’t her call. Gae had waxed philosophical, and admitted she wasn’t sure, but that it was most definitely Thurfrit’s call, and – this was the clincher – one that Yamanu would have loved.

Yamanu had always welcomed former enemies who were willing to walk out of darkness and into the light. Just as the Tribe had. It wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t without awkward moments and difficulties, or moments of mistrust and fear. But it had worked, and while there is no simple and perfect path…it was the right path.

“Lyroo…the past is in the past,” he said. “We can only change the future. If you are willing to work with us, we will be willing to work with you.”

Lyroo wiped tears from her eyes. “I won’t let you down,” she said.

“No,” Thurfrit said. “I do not believe you will.”