String Theory_ Cohesion (Book 1) - Jeffrey Lang [36]
“A sharp goad,” Sem said, then fell silent for several moments. Finally, she continued, “Ask their captain to contact the Emergency Council. Better the planetary authority ask her for help than the leader of your tribe.”
“I understand.”
“And learn whatever you can about their propulsion systems and their shields.”
“We’ll try, but it will be the work of many days to even begin to understand it.”
“True, but we must begin somewhere. We would not even have made it off Monorha if our tribe did not display a talent for unraveling complex technical puzzles.”
Ziv knew this was true and took some pride in the historical fact that his grandsire had been one of the technical team that had disassembled the alien craft that had landed near their city. If only the aliens who piloted it had survived long enough to explain some of its mysteries or possessed the universal translator the Voyagers treated with such casual disregard. “We will do what we can, my rih,” Ziv said. “Though I do not know what chances we will have. According to my hosts, we will be in orbit in approximately fourteen hours.”
“And what will happen then?”
Near a state of complete mental exhaustion, Ziv almost snapped at the rih-hara-tan, What do you mean what will happen?! We will return to our city! We will lie down and die with all our families and friends! Our ship is destroyed and we cannot flee this world even if we wished without risking being turned into slivers of glass! But he was a good haran (or, at least, a fearful one) and did not speak these words. “What would you like to happen?”
“Ask the aliens to accompany you to our city. If necessary, tell them you are worried about the state of your shuttle—not an entirely unrealistic concern.”
“If I can, I will.”
“You can, Ziv, my shi-harat.”
Ziv squirmed at the use of the term, as Sem no doubt knew he would. He felt his hara stir behind him as they all mentally withdrew from him. He wanted to shout at her, to curse her, to call down the condemnation of the Blessed All-Knowing Light, but instead he said, “Thank you, my rih. I will do what I can.”
Six hours from orbit, after Neelix had conveyed a message from Ziv that he would like the captain to speak to the Monorhan Emergency Council, Janeway had asked Chakotay to bring Lieutenant Dandibhotla to her ready room so he could talk to him about their social structure. Dandibhotla, the only crewman versed in both anthropology and linguistics, had, at Tuvok’s request, been watching and listening to all the recordings made to date and was chomping at the bit to discuss his observations.
Clustered around the conference room table, Janeway and Chakotay and Neelix gave the small, dapper anthropologist their undivided attention. “Judging from what Neelix has told me and what I’ve seen,” Dandibhotla said, “the Monorhans were divided into tribes or possibly city-states. The hara groupings suggest a modularly hierarchical society. They work in groups, but the groups can be disassembled when necessary. A leader of one group can be a subordinate in another. The fact that Captain Ziv is the harat of his group, but refers to his tribal leader as a rih-hara-tan, makes it sound like we’re talking about someone who performs the function of harat—or, in the case of a female, haras—for perhaps a large group of harai, may be an entire tribe. Just a guess, but there’s probably some kind of religious power backing that up.”
“So, they might be a religiously organized society?” Janeway asked.
“Possibly,” Dandibhotla said. “But in the recordings I’ve seen, I’ve only heard Ziv mention what might be a god once or twice. No, more likely, their religion was once much more important than it is now. When a society is placed under the sort of stress the Monorhans are under, old models tend to collapse.”
“Unless they’re prohibited from mentioning their god’s name in front of outsiders,” Chakotay suggested.
Dandibhotla nodded. “He’s got me there, Captain. It’s a possibility.