"The Thrr leaders are talking again about putting up a new shrine," Thrr't-rokik commented. "I've been trying to talk them into locating it down there in the woods, close enough that we could hear the river."
"They'll never do it," Thrr-gilag said. "Not that close to a river. Too much risk of flood damage."
Thrr't-rokik sniffed. "Flood damage. The Amt'bri hasn't flooded in probably two hundred cyclics. But you're right, too many people would be afraid. Sometimes I think Elders are the most timid creatures in existence."
"You can't really blame them," Thrr-gilag shrugged. "When you're that close to the unknowns of death, I suppose it's natural to try to hold on as tightly as you can."
"Perhaps," Thrr't-rokik sighed. "Personally, I think that being terrified of taking the most minuscule of chances is no way to live."
Thrr-gilag looked off across the valley. "We're certainly taking chances now," he said. "Every one of us."
"Yes," Thrr't-rokik agreed quietly. "The Human-Conquerors. You've seen them up close, Thrr-gilag. What do you think?"
"Of the Humans, or of our chances against them?"
"Either. Both."
Thrr-gilag pressed his tongue against the top of his mouth. "I don't know, Father. I really don't. They're fearsome and dangerous enemies—there's no doubt about that. But at the same time there are things about them that don't seem to fit together. Large inconsistencies in their aggressiveness level, for one thing."
"They're aliens, after all," Thrr't-rokik reminded him. "Their reasons for doing things don't have to be the same as ours."
"True," Thrr-gilag said. "But there's one other possibility: that the Humans aren't the vicious warmongers we've been led to believe."
Thrr't-rokik frowned. "What are you talking about? They attacked first."
Thrr-gilag turned again to look down at the river. "Unless the Overclan Seating and Warrior Command were wrong about that."
He could feel his father's gaze on him. "You mean mistaken?"
"Or just wrong."
For a long beat the rustling of the trees below was the only sound. Thrr-gilag kept his eyes on the valley and river, not daring to see what his father's expression might be. "You realize what you're saying," Thrr't-rokik said at last. "You're accusing the Overclan Seating of deliberately starting a war. And of then lying to the Zhirrzh people about it."
"I know," Thrr-gilag said. "Are you saying our leaders are incapable of lying?"
Thrr't-rokik snorted. "Hardly. Still, people generally lie for specific purposes. For personal gain, or to evade punishment or other trouble. What motivation would the Overclan Seating have to lie about a Human-Conqueror attack?"
"I don't know," Thrr-gilag said. "But I also can't simply dismiss the eye-witness testimony of the Human Pheylan Cavanagh. And he was apparently convinced that the Zhirrzh ships fired first."
Thrr't-rokik snorted. "You accuse your own leaders of lying yet assume a vicious would-be conqueror would tell you the truth?"
"I know it seems backward," Thrr-gilag conceded. "But he hung strongly to his story the whole time he was our prisoner. Longer than I would expect someone who knows he is lying would do."
For another few beats Thrr't-rokik was silent. "You're not just telling me all this to hear my opinions on the subject. What is it you want?"
Thrr-gilag braced himself. "Two of those survey ships were Kee'rr. I was hoping you could arrange for me to talk to one of the Elders who was aboard."
"I was afraid that was it," Thrr't-rokik said heavily. "Do you have any idea of the penalties involved with that sort of unauthorized communication?"
"I'm willing to take the risk," Thrr-gilag said.
"I wasn't thinking of your risk," Thrr't-rokik retorted icily. "I was thinking of the other Elder's. If Warrior Command caught him talking privately about sensitive warrior matters, they could summarily take his communicator position away from him. Are you willing to have that on your conscience?"
"Not really," Thrr-gilag said, feeling ashamed that that aspect hadn't even occurred to him. With fsss-cutting techniques had come an exponential explosion in the number of jobs available for Elders, everything from the simple participation in interstellar communication pathways to the more demanding professional roles of planetary explorer or searcher assistant. But such jobs still numbered only in the low billions; and with well over three hundred billion Elders clamoring for some way to fill their time, the permanent loss of a job was not a threat to be taken lightly. "I'm sorry. I should have thought about that."
There was another pause. "This is very important to you, isn't it, my son?" Thrr't-rokik asked, his voice gentle again.
"Yes," Thrr-gilag said. "And worth a fair amount of risk. But for me, not for someone else."
Thrr't-rokik sighed, a whisper against the background breezes. "Wait here. I'll see what I can do."
He vanished. Thrr-gilag leaned against the predator fence, gazing out again at the woods and river. The woods, the river, and the never-ending problem of what to do with the ever-growing number of Elders.
On one side it could be seen as a simple problem of storage. The shrine towering behind him had enough niches for forty thousand fsss organs, and it had taken the Thrr family nearly two hundred cyclics to fill it to capacity. Another shrine, wherever it was put up, would probably do them for two centuries more.
But on the other side it was an incredibly complex issue, a problem that sliced through to the very soul of Zhirrzh culture. In generations past all Zhirrzh had lived comfortably together, with Elders moving freely through the homes and lives of their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. For many of the Elders that was the way it had always been and thus the way it should continue to be.
But nothing ever remained the same, not even with the weight of a thousand cyclics of tradition bearing down on it. And as the basic underlying conception of Zhirrzh society was changing, so too was the view of the Elders' role in it.
There was a flicker and Thrr't-rokik was back, another Elder at his side. "This is my son, Searcher Thrr-gilag," Thrr't-rokik said, gesturing to Thrr-gilag with his tongue. "He was one of the alien-research group studying the Human-Conqueror prisoner. This"—he gestured to his companion—"is Bvee't-hibbin, a distant cousin of your mother's line. He's one of the communicators aboard the Far Searcher."
Thrr-gilag felt his tail speed up. One of the four survey ships that had been in that first contact with the Humans. "Honored to meet you," he said.
"Yes," Bvee't-hibbin said, running an obviously critical eye over Thrr-gilag. "So you're the one. Perhaps you don't care, Searcher, but I consider you personally responsible for the fact that one of my great-great-nephews has arrived prematurely at the family shrine."
"Yes, I know," Thrr-gilag said, wincing again with painful memory of his failure. "Seven others were also raised to Eldership in the Humans' attack."
"Did you know as well that he is still without sanity?" Bvee't-hibbin demanded. "Seven fullarcs since his arrival, and he's still twisted in shock. Seven fullarcs; and no one will predict for his family when he'll be recovered."
"You can hardly blame Thrr-gilag for that," Thrr't-rokik put in gently. "Base World Twelve is two hundred fifty light-cyclics from Oaccanv. Drawn from such a distance, it was inevitable that his initial anchoring would be severely traumatic. It's the price we pay for our expansion to the stars."
The anger drained from Bvee't-hibbin's face, leaving only weariness behind. "Perhaps it's too high a price, Thrr't-rokik," he said with a whisper of a sigh. "Perhaps some fullarc we'll stretch too far and condemn new Elders to a madness that will never end."