Remnant Population

“I wanted to speak with you, Ser Likisi,” she said. “And with Sera Stavi, if that is permissible.” He rolled his eyes. “Oh, very well. But if you’re going to argue about staying, you might as well save your breath and my patience.”

“That’s not it, Ser Likisi,” Ofelia said. She was trying to sound humble, but it came out less humble than she intended. The woman Kira glanced at her sharply, but said nothing. “Oh, come on,” Likisi said. “Come inside — it’s too hot out here.” He led her past the truck and the advisors, who both looked as if they were sucking lemons, through the doorseal and into the big softsided shelter.

Inside, it was stuffy despite the rushing sound of the aircooler, and not as cool as a shady room in one of the houses. Likisi flung out his arms, “Ah — that’s better.” Then he flung himself down on a padded bench. “Kira — be a dear and get us something cold, will you?”

Now it was the other woman who looked as if she’d bitten a lemon. But she bit back what she wanted to say, and instead asked mildly what Sera Falfurrias would like. Ofelia politely refused anything twice, then accepted water. Kira disappeared around a partition. She had not asked Likisi what he wanted; that meant she had fetched drinks for him before.

Likisi watched her between narrowed lids. “What is it now? Were you wildly curious about this shelter?

Do you want to know how much you can bring with you when we leave?”

“No, Ser Likisi,” Ofelia said. He had not her to sit down, and she stood, hands folded in front of her.

The air moved by the aircooler fans dried the sweat on her back, and chilled her. “Here—” Kira handed Ofelia a glass of water with ice blocks in it. “Sit down, for goodness sakes. You don’t have to stand there.” She handed Likisi a glass of something purplish, and took her own glass of clear liquid to one of the chairs arranged around a low table. “Here — sit by me, if you want.” Ofelia walked over and sat. The chair squirmed under her, and she jumped up, glaring at Kira. “Sorry,” the woman said; her expression said she meant it. “I didn’t realize — these chairs adjust to each person who sits in them. Please — forgive me.”

Ofelia sat back down, her back stiff. The chair squirmed under her buttocks, her thighs, trying to make her relax. It was hard to sit stiffly, and she felt her resistance giving way. As she relaxed, the chair molded itself to her. It was comfortable, she had to admit, She sipped her water. It tasted cold and flat, nothing like the live water she was used to. “Thank you, Sera,” she said politely. “This is very nice.” “They use similar furniture in geriatric residence units,” Kira said. “It prevents sores.”

“How interesting,” Ofelia said, She still had no plan for how she was going to convince them. She sipped

again. “Sera — the… indigenes, you call them…”

“What about them?” Likisi asked.

“I think they are upset. By you.”

He laughed. “I rather expect they are. They ran off the first humans they saw easily enough, and now we’re back. And they’ve seen the technology here — while that’s regrettable, in a way, it’s also made it clear to them that they have a long way to go before they can compete with us.” “We won’t hurt them, Sera Falfurrias,” Kira said. “We know they didn’t understand what was happening, when they attacked the colonists. It was all very unfortunate; they aren’t really so bloodthirsty. They’re quite intelligent, as you said, and when Bilong completes the linguistic analysis, and we can actually talk to them, explain what we know—” Misunderstandings hid in those words like seeds in an orange. The People had understood; these people didn’t.

“The colonists,” Ofelia said. “They destroyed the nests.”

“Nests?” Likisi stared at her. “These indigenes build nests? That’s not what Bilong said.” “Bilong said she thought the colony landed at a special place, some land of sacred ground or something,” Kira said to Ofelia.

“It was nests,” Ofelia said.

“They didn’t know that,” Kira said. “They couldn’t — they had no idea there were intelligent indigenes.”

Clear in that was the unconcern about the nests of less intelligent indigenes. Ofelia felt ashamed. “Whatever… nests, sacred ground… it doesn’t matter; what matters is that we understand why they reacted so violently. If they’re afraid of vengeance, they need to know that we have no wish for more violence, so long as they are peaceful.”

She could not jump up and scream Fools! at these two; it would do no good. To say that the deaths of the nestlings and nest-guardians didn’t matter… to believe that the People were afraid of human vengeance… to think that the power lay with them and not with those who belonged here… fools they were, whether she named them so or not.

“It mattered to them, that it was nests,” Ofelia said quietly. Then she stood; she could not stay in the same space with them any longer.

The doorseal behind her rasped, and she jumped. It was only the other two, returning from wherever they’d been.