The Star Whorl (The Totality Cycles Book 1) (7 page)

     She raised a vuu-brow.
“Indeed, brother. My regards,” she answered as formally, but a faint glyph of
internal laughter showed through her mock-reserved demeanor.

Whorl Nineteen

     Kreceno’Tiv blew out an astonished
breath.

    
So – Mother’s line
could
have ascended to the ranks of Malkia-mothers,
he mused, bemused. Her
ancestors of the Vespa Tiv famiya had the Nil’Gu’ua and the powerful,
attractive pheromones. But they had chosen not to try to dominate, as the
Malkia-mothers had done, but to just keep their Genus-lines intact. And they
had survived the Unification without the massacre of their children or the
reduction of their numbers that the Malkia had suffered.

    
Not many families can say
the same. The few direct descendants of the Malkia have kept to themselves,
placing high in the Solidarim, but not being obtrusive in their actions. They
don’t want anyone reminded of their fore-mothers’ reign. But our famiya doesn’t
have that stigma. And – all of us have retained the high Nil’Gu’ua levels, and
have probably progressed higher over the generations.

     Was that the real reason
that Gotra Pelani’Dun had tried to fix his interest again?
That and because
I rival her other suitor, now, physically? How did she find this out? Or – was
it her parents who found out, and wanted her to try to reengage me?
The
full implications had not fully come together in his mind, yet, but they had
obviously occurred to someone in the Gotra Dun-famiya. Were there any Dun in
the Solidarim? He began to dig, though finding the names of the Solidarim Counselors
was not hard.

    
Huh, there
are
Dun
in the Solidarim, but nothing above the tenth Tier. And it has been that way
for many generations.
Were they hoping that snaring him would introduce
some of the Tiv veneration and Nil’Gu’ua into their line, and in turn that
would increase their consequence, even if it were not directly by the
matriarchal line?
Heh, were they thinking of sending
me
to the Solidarim
to represent their famiya, and hope that the Tiv additive to the Dun would
boost their standing? No doubt, if I had been a daughter, they would have sent
a son to me. But daughters have the power to attract, not sons. Did they try to
put someone in Karaci’Tiv’s way? I almost know for certain they did. But she
chose her own pre-mating interest, and his famiya name was not Dun. They would
have had an easier time snaring me. She must have really ruined a well-laid
plan when she let go of me! But Mother and Father did not object to her – maybe
they knew we would not get past pre-mating?

     Either way, he was glad and
grateful to be free of her famiya’s designs. The experience had not been
pleasant, but it had taught him something important.

Whorl Twenty

     Gotra Pelani’Dun was present
on the transport the next turn after the end-turns, but she maintained a
wounded silence, and almost studiously ignored him. She did not even put out a
single pheromone trail, though she did make a point of sitting across from him
and Ro-Becilo’Ran, and turning her shoulder so that her bright Gotra-marked
elytra-pace faced them. She seemed to be enjoying the sensation she was
creating, listening attentively to her friends.

     Others on the transport were
watching, to see if the drama between them would continue. But Kreceno’Tiv
tucked his vuu’erio away, and ignored the stares and the obvious glyphs of
curiosity. Several other girls were putting out faint trails, possibly for him,
but he suppressed any reaction to them. Ro-Becilo’Ran looked around with high
amusement, his eyes bright and his vuu’erio tennae waving, taking in all the
tension and attention and expectation. He glanced at Kreceno’Tiv several times,
but Kreceno’Tiv ignored him, too, keeping his eyes on his view-glyphographic as
the transport crept through the early crush.

     “Yes?” his friend said,
finally, nudging him. “You, studying? Since when?”

     “I’m working on a personal endeavor,”
he said, shrugging. “Famiya lineage.”

     Many in attendance to their
conversation sharpened at that, and the looks all turned to Gotra Pelani’Dun to
see her reaction. She apparently could not help herself – she flinched, her
elytra-pace contracting. But she did not turn around, not that he wanted her
to.

     “In truth?” Ro-Becilo’Ran
could not help himself, either. He took the bait willingly, even raised his
voice a little. “Whose famiya?”

     “Mine, of course, numb-pace,”
Kreceno’Tiv said, with the specter of a glyph of exasperation. “Whose else
would I be interested in?”

     “None others, I should
think,” Ro-Becilo’Ran replied, his voice merry at being part of the spectacle.

     Kreceno’Tiv raised a
shoulder noncommittally, and went back to his graphic.

     “What’s so special about his
famiya?” he heard someone ask, a feminine voice, bright with interest.

     “I couldn’t say, but
someone
made a point of bringing it up,” another answered. There was a glyph of
laughter there.

     A cloud of pheromone drifted
toward him, and he held in a shiver, suppressed the urge to respond to it even
more, though it was subtle and enticing. His vuu’erio tucked in so tight it
almost hurt, but he did not change in physique to match whomever it was sending
the gloming to him. There was a sound of mildly incredulous surprise when he
did not look up to see if the trail was for him, though Ro-Becilo’Ran did not
resist, his Ropalir-induction response wavering to match the Lisso-marker and
his head turning around, seeking the girl who was summoning. Other males around
him had a similar reaction, though those close to their Geni’vhes did not react
quite as strongly.

     He felt hot eyes on him. Gotra
Pelani’Dun.
Seeing if I’m going for someone else?
he thought sourly.

     “He really
does
think
he’s too good for anyone,” a girl’s voice whispered.

     “No, Pelani’Dun has been gloming
him so much, he’s shut himself off completely because of it,” another girl
excused him. “She was gloming so much that my brother almost fell on her. It’ll
take a while for him to get past it.”

     He wanted to thank whomever
was so astute, for it
was
because of her that he could resist the
pheromone clouds floating around him. And who knew? The trick might prove to be
useful in the future.

Whorl Twenty One

     With some trepidation,
Kreceno’Tiv opened his dataSphere and checked the discussion thread he had
initiated. He admitted to himself some cowardice in looking at the responses,
for the derision could be lancing, eviscerating, at times. And there were
snubbing retorts to his words, many, thousands, in fact. There were demands
that he identify himself, snide remarks about his involvement, comments that he
stick to his own stratum, whatever that was.

     But there was also an
answering following that took him seriously, those who had taken note and had
begun to question also. Others demanded to know what he knew, and why he had
chosen this time to comment, when he had not done so before.

     He read one of the top
comments.

     :
Who Breaks Their
Silence?

     :You have been seen on
the interlinks, Alighter, but rarely have you spoken. Yet now you do so – why?
You do not claim affiliation with any stratum or discussion group, yet you
presume to speak to all of us. Is it concern or conceit that compels you to
break your silence? If the strength of your convictions can be measured by the
depth of your involvement, how are any of us to give you credence?:

     Then another.

     :Away, Away!

     :Away, Alighter! You
flitter through the Spheres without ever delving deeply – but now you wish to
share deep musings? Flitter away again, to the real world, to the dissipation
you decry, but never seek asylum from in deeper delvings into the Spheres! This
is not your amusement ground, however much you wish to think so, and your voice
has no weight here, so flitter away to your desperate life and fritter away
your time-marks bemoaning the fortune of not having to do anything for your
maintenance!:

     He read some of the derisive
postings, some of the thoughtful ones, and some of the ones that were humorous
at his expense. He read some from every category, and sat back, musing on the
responses. Some had been positive, also seeking after the silenced commenters,
but they were in the minority. He did not respond right away, wanting to frame
his next post carefully before he released it to the public. When he finally
had what he wanted to say firm in his mind, he returned to his alias Sphere and
began to write.

     :
Alighter Uniter

     :I am an Alighter – I
claim no stratum, and ally with no specific group. We are all citizens of the
Spheres, and in the real world we would all be on equal boughs of the World-Trees.
But here, in the Spheres, I have seen all the old prejudices live on, all the
divisive devices that we supposedly eschewed, brought to full gloming. Let me
be clear. If I were to say that I hailed from an upper stratum, those who claim
to be from lower strata would be derisive, calling me a dabbler, a slummer, one
looking down from the upper branches of the World-Tree to those below and
taking pity. If I claim a lower stratum, those who claim the upper climes would
disparage me as a little voice in the dark, a shiftless Sifter, unaware of the
larger world, or even the larger Totality. If I hail from the middle strata, I
would get aspersions cast from all sides, high, low and all that comes in
between. But regardless of how I live in the Spheres, I have participated just
as much as anyone, and I am a committed citizen of the interlinks. Alighter or
Burrower, I have sailed the Spheres, and I am within my rights to speak.

     :So here is what I say. Some
of our sistren citizens have gone silent. This is my concern, and regardless of
stratum, it concerns us all. Should those of the upper strata care that a few
little voices have died away? Do those of the lower strata realize or care that
a brother or sister has gone dark?

     :I submit to all of you
that we
should
care, in the Spheres and in the real world. For how does
silence in the Spheres translate to absences in the real world? Where have
those behind the silences gone, and why? Where in the Totality could they be,
that they cannot reach the Spheres to have their voices heard? Low or high
strata, if your voice is silenced, should anyone care what has become of you?

     :I care.

     Did that get his message
across? He hoped so, not bothering to answer in more detail the mocking or
contemptuous responses. He shut down his study-station and went to lie back on
his sleep-pad, thinking on his words and hoping, as he waited for sleep to
come. But his hope was not strong, and depression and the soft despair followed
him into his dreams.

Whorl Twenty Two

     Gotra Pelani’Dun seemed to
lose interest in him after her embarrassment, and over the next few five-turns Kreceno’Tiv
slowly let his guard down, feeling as if something curled tight within him was
relaxing, letting go. He let his vuu’erio tennae stand free more and more, and
let his body react to the chemi-scents of the girls around him. A few even
flirted with him, and one, Polista Zyledi’Kil, showed real interest. She was
not in many of his lectures, but she did share the same meal time, and had
taken to sitting across from him, though she did not speak directly to him at
first.

     He smiled at her whenever
she looked his way, however, and soon she was smiling back and taking part in
the lively conversations around them.

     “Oh ha, Polista Zyledi’Kil,”
Ro-Becilo’Ran said one turn, turning to her with that note of mischief in his
voice that Kreceno’Tiv knew all too well. “What say you? We’re going to stand,
uselessly, in the line to the
Bustani
this dark-turn. Join us?”

     She raised her eyes to
Kreceno’Tiv shyly, then to Ro-Becilo’Ran. “I – I don’t know...” she said
hesitantly.

     “Don’t fret, Kreceno’Tiv
here, will be there to watch over you,” Ro-Becilo’Ran said jovially, smacking
Kreceno’Tiv’s shoulder in good nature. “He watches over all of us, he has
sprung up so tall, young World-Tree that he is. Isn’t that so, Krece?”
Ro-Becilo’Ran gave him a sly smile, and he would have gladly rattled the
elytra-pace off his friend for the coercive tactics he was using to get him to
come to the
Bustani
line again.

     “I – I might – if
Kreceno’Tiv will be there,” she said, tilting her head shyly. “I’ve never stood
in the line before – my parents wouldn’t let me, until this last term of
Secondus.”

     Kreceno’Tiv smiled as a feeling
of protectiveness that he had not felt in a long time, melted through his
chest. Ignoring the smug, almost laughing gaze of his friend, he gestured
assent. “I’ll come stand with you, if you like,” he said quietly. The dimpling
smile she gave him was so sweet – he had almost forgotten what it was to be
attracted to someone – that any lingering resistance he might have had melted
away. Suddenly standing in the interminable line did not seem such a fruitless
waste of time, and he found himself looking forward to it.

Whorl Twenty Three

     Kreceno’Tiv sat beside
Ro-Becilo’Ran in their joined transport constructs, moving along the congested
boulevard to get to the forming line for the
Bustani.
The line never
really went away completely, but youngsters such as they were, who had to go to
Secondus, had to abandon it in favor of rest. Others left for many other
reasons, but there were always portions of the populace who never left, hoping
that they would have the best chance of getting in once the line thinned.