Uprooted

C’Lar waited at the Veil of the Imperium, and when his name was announced he stepped through the mist and into the center of the Glade. Fifty meters ahead, and positioned around the Hirst, stood the highest of High and holiest of Holy. He was but a middling scientist and, with much effort, settled his trembling physicality and sense of inferiority.

He could hear the High and Holy but he could not distinguish their words. Their timbre surprised him. Voices spoke over one another, palms raised and slammed down, and he grew alarmed at a loud snap that accompanied a swiping motion from one Prelate. Their argument continued far longer than expected, long enough for him to consider the fallacies of their teachings. The Imperium are not always stoic and observant of the Virtues: Patience, Support, Respect and Trust. Instead, they reminded him of his own dishonorable incidents.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden and extended silence. A palm reached out and motioned C’Lar into the circle of light. His steps were careful, and he held fast to his color to ensure no sight or sound of his own making would disturb the High and Holy.

“Report,” said the one on the right.

“Your benevolence is greatly rewarding,” he bowed, but was interrupted.

“Please dispense with the obligatory. We need only the explanation of your findings.” Again, this from the one on the right, whose gray coloring confirmed him as Speaker Tempore.

C’Lar wanted to clear his throat but thought better of it. He simply swallowed the sap that had risen, and began again.

“The inhabitants of the third planet of the 142nd galaxy appear to maintain similarities to our source heritage. But, their planet is expiring and it is imperative that we confirm if they are compatible with our own species if we are to save them, and save ourselves.”

Grumbles rose and fell amidst the High and Holy.

“You recommend collecting a scion,” said the Speaker.

C’Lar nodded. “Many scions. We must confirm a match that satisfies minimum compatibility. Our wanderings have increased the complexities of our biologies to the point of entropy, and our collective divergences require close study.”

There was a loud “harrumph” from the left.

“Resolute,” Speaker Tempore said, turning towards the High and Holy who had vocalized the objection, “please identify your conjecture.”

“I have analyzed the data collected from our flybys,” said Resolute with a rustle of indigo. “These creatures are rough, shaggy, and inopportune. They are beneath us, and deserve nothing more than our ignorance.”

As soon as Resolute had finished speaking, several others harrumphed and rustled their colors. Speaker Tempore looked at the few who had objected to Resolute’s words, and offered an open palm to one with the highest standing among them.

“Earnest,” he said, “please advise us.”

The reddish-brown Holy turned to the occupant in the circle of light and gave a slight bow.

“Appreciation for your attendance, C’Lar. I recommend you be excused as we ponder your request.” As Earnest spoke, several others tapped their palms in agreement. The sound was soft, like a whisper of leaves in the wind.

Resolute harrumphed again, and did not wait for the Speaker to offer an open palm. “Is it not C'Lar's choice to stay and offer retort or acquiescence to our discussion? It is his report to offer, and his request to defend. This is the law.”

Tapping and grumbles grew loud across the Hirst. Speaker Tempore swiped a downward facing palm in the air, and the silence was immediate.

“C’Lar, it is your decision to remain or to retire,” the Speaker said. “Regardless, we expect you to satisfy the council.”

C’Lar dipped his head in obeisance, and remained standing in the light. He caught a flicker of a smile from the right, but detected a soft and low grumble to his left.

The Speaker nodded to C’Lar. “Please provide us with justifications.”

C'Lar ignored the challenging rustle of colors from several of the High and Holy.

“We survived the ravages of a decaying sun by star-hopping far from our long-ago origin. We are proud and industrious, and have built a vast topology that spans the galaxies. Yet, like the inhabitants of this third planet, our evolutionary path is tied directly to the fertility of our circumstances. We retain semblances of our genesis, but we are no longer identical to our root origins. Just as much as our evolution is tied to our wanderings, theirs is tied to an extended stay on a single planet. And still they retain certain traits that resemble our own.”

He lifted a palm and touched his head, touched his arms, and then rested on his trunk.

Resolute harrumphed. “Similar, but not identical,” he said. Taps and grumbles warred again, and Speaker Tempore sliced his palm through the air.

“Thank you for the justifications. Please provide us with options.”

“Of course,” C’Lar said, nodding. “I propose a ship, larger in size than our earlier Observers but with minimal crew who will collect and attend to 824 scions.”

Resolute interrupted him without forewarning. “The creatures are short-lived. They require constant sustenance and produce voluminous effluents.”

“We will hold them in stasis for the journey home.”

“Stasis? That would require major accommodations to ensure they arrive undamaged.”

C’Lar decided to hold his response, feeling inadequate to articulate scientific discussion amidst Resolute’s interruptions. He looked at the Speaker, who seemed amused as he admonished Resolute with a swipe of his palm.

“C’Lar has our attention.”

“Thank you.” This time C’Lar cleared his throat, knowing that the sound might be interpreted as an insult. But he was simply making a point.

“Resolute is correct. At this time, stasis is based on our own biology which may be insufficient to sustain the viability of the scions. Hence, astrobiologists have established a Demonstration vehicle that is small, light, and fast. It can reach the planet in under one age, and we will collect just nine scions to observe as we bring them to our grounds. Their survival is our objective, but we recognize that viability is not assured. Therefore, the Demonstration must be as small as possible, so that we may learn what is necessary for the viability of the much larger collection whose full biological survival must be assured.”

C’Lar knew his use of the words, “full biological survival”, would be taken as he intended. 

“The viability of life is our highest achievement and greatest reward.” The Speaker paused, his palm raised to hold interruptions while he pondered his next words. “The Demonstration scions will be insufficient to determine if their biology is similar enough to our own.”

“That is mostly correct,” C’Lar said. “Given the variety of the inhabitants' biologies, we must have the largest quantity of scions to confirm vascular compatibility for grafting. And," he added for clarity, ”enough shoots to graft our entire population."

There was much rustling of colors, and only the faintest of a grumble. The Speaker turned to each High and Holy and received a nod, though Resolute's was barely discernible.

"You have the Imperium’s approval," the Speaker said, then motioned for C’Lar’s dismissal. C’Lar dipped his head in obeisance and left the Hirst. He marched quickly down the Glade and past the Veil. He did not hear the Speaker comment on how shaggy Resolute looked, nor see the swift palm chop the Speaker performed on the dead wood hanging low from Resolute’s tree.

All C'Lar knew was that his program was moving forward, and he was determined to bring it to fruition.

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