The librarian, accustomed to dining alone, more often than not making do with some rice and beans or a hastily reheated turnover he’d picked up from a vendor on the way home from work, was astonished at the sumptuousness of the offerings, and hoped that such extravagance hadn’t been solely on his account. Here were piles of lamb chops straight from the coals, tripe soup with barley and fresh local herbs, a plate of farm cheeses and lamb sausage, roasted tubers slathered in home-churned butter, and a bowl of something that looked like oversized prawns if not for their emerald green hue. When Syd learned that these were kuaa, he almost had to laugh, as he’d just been showing the grammar school children how these creatures would swim on the heavy air currents in search of the local megafauna, which it then attached themselves to feed on their blood. The holovid book had even remarked that kuaa were in fact quite tasty and considered a local delicacy, provoking cries of “Ewwwww!” and mock retching from the kids. He took an experimental bite from one and smiled as the Manda patriarch watched him intently—the grey hair and deep lines on his weathered face suggested that he was an old man, but everything else about him suggested a man still in the prime of his life.
“I’ve got a customer who supplies the zoology stations down below,” he explained. “She runs them up fresh and I pay her in lamb. Aren’t they good?”
Syd remembered to swallow before answering. “They’re almost minty.”
Ezekiel nodded. “That’s the blood of their prey—the big herbivores of the South Sea.”
“Pseudobrontosaurus?”
Ekeziel smiled. “Zachariah told me that you were smart.”
Syd looked at the boy, who was trying not to blush. “If you don’t mind my saying so, your son is far smarter than I am.”
“And yet you encourage him to be a writer.”
Syd almost dropped his fork. “I beg your pardon?”
“All of this nonsense you feed him,” the old man explained his accusation, while the rest of the table had not only fallen silent but even refrained from eating. “Romances and fantasies. Like this Robar rubbish. No sooner did my son finish that trash that you printed out for him yesterday than he declared that he would like to be a writer just like Hesprus!”
The librarian opened his mouth to respond, but then reconsidered, as he imagined that talking back to the Manda patriarch at his own dinner table would be tantamount to throwing a rock at a tank. Instead, he pushed a couple of tubers around on his plate and waited for Ezekiel to continue his harangue:
“I may no longer teach at the Academy, but I still know the difference between art and trash. You, sir, do your library a grave disservice by confusing the two for young and impressionable minds.”
At this point Syd could no longer hold his tongue: “’The children now love luxury. They have bad manners, contempt for authority, they show disrespect to their elders…. They no longer rise when elders enter the room. They contradict their parents, chatter before company, gobble up dainties at the table, cross their legs, and are tyrants over their teachers.’”
Ezekiel smiled. “You know Plato?”
“Not as well as your boy does. Or you, I would imagine. Zachariah had never told me that you were a professor of philosophy.”
“Harrumph,” the Manda patriarch waved as if to ward off any more respect than he thought was due. “I’m sure he neglected my long and distinguished service in the Imperial Marines as well. But if you knew anything about Plato, you’d also be familiar with his views on epic poetry.”
“This may be true, but surely he understood the usefulness of allegory.”
“Are you saying that the Robar ‘Trilogy’ serves some kind of redeeming didactic purpose?”
“That Mankind is the source of both the greatest good and the greatest evil seems like a fair moral lesson for a Neotranscendantlist family.”
“Oho! So now you are a preacher as well?” The Manda patriarch was clearly agitated, but unless Syd was mistaken his tone was more bemused than angry. “I like this librarian, Zachariah. He actually seems to believe in something. “
Having polished off his fifth lamb chop, Ezekiel pushed his chair back from the table and made a half-hearted attempt to wipe the fat from his bristly grey mustache. “Now tell me, good sir, why did you wish to speak to me tonight?”
“Surely you know about Jon Devlin’s recent incursion,” Syd said.
Ezekiel sighed. “Yes. It’s a sad day indeed when the Empire can no longer handle one traitor with delusions of grandeur. My son informs me that you have lost access to the tachyon relay for your work.”
Syd had not expected the boy to have advocated on his behalf, but he was grateful nonetheless. “That is correct, sir. It was my hope that I could borrow some time on the local repeater network in order to access the more critical data feeds.”
The old man seemed to hesitate before giving his answer. “I could speak to my fellow ranchers to see if this could be arranged. Only…”
“No more works by Hepsrus?” the librarian quipped. “I can assure you it will be at least another year or two before he writes his next installment.”
Ezekiel had a good laugh at this, despite his pained expression. “No, it’s not that. You seem like an honest man, so I feel that I should warn you that the Settlers are considering joining the Garden Cluster.”
“Join the Garden—?” Syd began to ask the question, until he realized that he did not need further elaboration. “Oh.”
“Believe you me, I do not condone casting our lot with pirate scum like Devlin,” the Manda patriarch said with a grimace. “But I am but one voice on the Settlers’ Council, and I’m afraid I am in the minority on this one. After the Garden willingly surrendered, Jon Devlin transmitted the same terms to every adjacent system. My fellow ranchers believe they have more to lose by standing firm and hoping the Imperial Navy will save them.
“But then you will be cut off,” Syd protested.
“You’d be surprised at how robust the livestock market is for independent traders,” Ezekiel said. “Many of my colleagues already sell heavily on the black market to avoid Imperial tariffs. At least this way they’ll no longer have to worry about the tax collectors.”
“No, just pirates!”
The old man frowned. “Devlin has also pledged to protect trade within those systems that surrender to him peacefully. I don’t know what that will mean for access to data feeds, but I will inquire on your behalf when the Council meets again.”
“Thank you.”
Although the dessert had course was no less sumptuous than dinner itself, the librarian spent the rest of his time at Manda residence in a kind of mental fog. Syd did not want to seem ungrateful, but the news of planet’s possible secession had thrown him completely. Surely the Imperial Library Corps would recall him if such a thing actually came to pass—a prospect which made him literally sick to his stomach. There had to be a way out of this impasse, but Syd felt trapped by forces much larger than him.
"Are you sure you wouldn't like a ride home?" Ezekiel asked his guest. "It's the least I can do after fattening you up to the point of bursting!"
"No thanks," Syd said. "I could use the walk after such a feast."
"Very well," the Manda patriarch said. "May I suggest taking Old Tarsus Road back? The hills along that path are quite lovely in the sunset."
The librarian had considered going back to the relay station and talking to Tess, but it was late and Syd didn’t want to walk into a potential crossfire between Imperial troops and local militia when no one could even see him coming up the road. Ezekiel's suggestion sounded like a fine compromise, and would give him some time to gather his thoughts. He meandered through the long twilight back towards his dormitory, enjoying the route, which was indeed as scenic as the farmer had promised. Here the first Settlers had erected stone walls from the abundant slate they found here, fitting the oddly regular slabs into fences that did not require any form of mortar to keep them held together—in fact, they looked as if they had been set up only yesterday.