Shoshone Station: The Galactic Consortium season 2

Episode 9: Asha-Tanga #17

Jake stared at the screen, his jaw slack. He felt like . . . well, he didn't know what. He searched his mind and found no word for the feeling. Awed, certainly, but there was something more. Looking around the room, he saw awe and shock on many faces, and he knew what he'd just witnessed hadn't been a typical Asha-Tanga performance.

One of the Dhanesha's friends, Ishana, spoke first. "She's a genius; you have to give her that."

The woman to his left wasn't so charitable. "I'm not sure I feel the same. What the hell was that? Cutting herself?"

The princess had been so poised, so calm, staring out at the crowd as the blade slid across her arm. It had definitely been a deliberate move.

"It was meant to convey a message," Ishana said.

"Surely, there are better ways," the other woman snapped.

"No," Ishana maintained. Around them, the shock was giving way to a hushed conversation as people discussed what had happened. On the screen, the Squid woman, Zeta, had bound the arm, and Princess Sarasvat was led away to the actual healers. Another set of dancers took the stage, but there was no way they could follow such an act. "A cultural meta-message, conveyed by an iconic act. Only a Vatari would think in that way."

"A cultural meta-message?" Dhanesha asked. "But what is the message?"

"It's layered, different messages for different people," Ishana said. Jake remembered that he was a professor of sociology or something like that.

"The message was clear," another man said. The woman on Ishana's left snorted again. "It's a reminder why we are here."

The woman fixed him with an arched looked.

"It is," the man insisted. "We will found the Consortium anew in this galaxy. She is reminding us of our purpose, recalling the glory days of old. The great projects. The discoveries. We've grown lazy and complacent in the core. Here, in a wide-open space, we will grow again." There was a fire in the man's eyes as he spoke.

Jake caught several people at a nearby table leaning in, listening, the same fire in their eyes.

"Angorak," a voice whispered. Mars, Jake supplied in his brain

"Vaisada," another said. The new station they were building a quadrant over, where they had discovered a half dozen Earth-like planets.

They aren't so different from us, Jake thought. He recalled an Old West museum he'd visited as a kid. Those pioneers had the same drive, the same optimism: what a world we will build in this new land.

"And she couldn't have just said that?" the woman scoffed.

The man, Ishana, fixed Jake with a stare. "You'll not soon forget that, will you?" he asked.

Jake gulped, not sure he wanted to be a part of the conversation. He felt out of his depth. But the question was an easy one. "No, I don't think I'll ever forget it."

"Exactly," Ishana said, slapping the table for emphasis. "None of us will. An action that speaks directly to the subconscious, to the heart. No, she could not just say it. Not without this same impact."

Dhakshana gave a soft laugh and reached across to the woman. "Even you have to admit that much; it will be hard to shake this message."

The woman shrugged and looked away.

"And now we should talk about the elephant in the room," Dhakshana went on.

Jake looked at her, wondering what she was talking about.

"In the old days of the empire, the Hanuman were second-class citizen. But it was Atuylan the wise advisor who changed that when the Consortium began."

"So?" Ishana said, a wary glint in his eye, like he knew where the conversation was going and didn't want to face it.

"It was Zeta that bound her arm. 'Have we bled enough?'" Dhakshana said.

"Eggs!" Jake gasped, catching on. "The protests and all that . . ."

Dhakshana nodded. "Yes. You're getting it."

"I don't know what to think of the Squid issue," Dhanesha said. "But Sarasvat has spoken in her own way. Jarvis be damned, and the whole science council to boot. There will be no further regulation here."

"Will the medical council read it that way?" Ishana asked.

"They will," Dhakshana insisted.

"And then we will be a sanctuary, a haven for those—" the woman broke off.

"Those people who are different." It was Abioya's first contribution, spoken mildly enough but with an intensity behind it. "On the surface, we see how people who are different are mistreated because of race, religion, ethnic differences so slight you guys can't tell them apart."

"Primitive superstitions," Ishana scoffed. And then he paused.

Dhanesha laughed. "Another's superstitions are easily rebuked. Our own, not so much."

Ishana scowled. "There's a difference," he snapped. "Such genetic manipulation, the creation of new sentient species . . . there have been tragedies in the past. That branch of science was closed for a reason."

"In this case, the experiment is already done. And it did not result in a tragedy. Why abuse the results?"

"I'm not suggesting we treat Squids differently, make them second-class," Ishana began.

"Just prevent them from reproducing," Dhakshana finished for him.

Ishana looked away and didn't answer.

"This will be a question for the healers," the woman on his left said. "There's little use in us hashing it over."

With that, the conversation turned away from the Squid issue. Ishana began to pester Abioya and Jake about their reaction to Princess Sarasvat's act. "I don't know what you want from them," Dhakshana interrupted after a while.

"There was more to that act, more layers," Ishana insisted. "But I can't for the life of me understand them. She knows this new culture; her mind is sharp. She spoke to them as well, did she not? But what? What message did they receive?"

Sadly none of them could provide an answer to that. The excitement of the day, the whole week, really, was rapidly catching up with Jake. Looking around, he guessed the same was true for all of them. They ate what could have been a late lunch or early supper before leaving the party and heading back to the compound to "make an early night of it," as Mom had said.