Voices of Dominion

2

She didn't respond immediately, as she assimilated a message from the Archive.

"You know, there was a great debate when the first Archives were compiled. Emigrants were required to endure rigorous screening and decontamination, to prevent humanity from carrying with us the viral and bacterial diseases that had plagued us on Earth."

She chuckled at the look of surprise on his face. "Oh yes, I'm genetically modified for low gravity and microgravity, but still human. I doubt, however, you would consider me a 'child of God"--even though I'm only 0.058% gibbon." She extended her wrist idly, flexing it around its ball-and-socket joint.

The elder said nothing.

"Those who administered the migrations," she continued, "made as certain as possible that settlers carried no dormant diseases--but what of the Archives? Some thought the pathogen genomes should be excluded, so humanity could be free of them once and for all. Others felt no genetic information should be discarded, in case it was ever needed. In the end, the genomes were included, but were modified with inert marker genes that identified the source. This would allow Archive researchers to distinguish between pathogen DNA that came from settlement datastores, and that which came from dormant diseases that got missed. Knowledge of these marker genes is generally restricted to those who administer the Archives."

"Why?" The man asked in surprise.

"Because many pathogens can be weaponized, and often those responsible are motivated to deceive. We wanted a way to uncover the truth. Would you care to know what we found on your ranovolo bottles just now?"

His face reflected sullen anger. "A highly virulent strain of the herpes type 1 virus."

The ambassador nodded. "A virus that, even in its present form, is merely a nuisance to humans, but can be fatal to gibbons--and by extension, to symphalans. The DNA of the virus confirms it was assembled from the genome included in your datastore--and then modified."

The elder stared at her in silence.

"Tell me, she said, "what do you know of St. Francis?"

"He is one of the most esteemed of all the saints--the founder of many orders." He scoffed, "Why? Are you a believer?"

"No, although there are a number in our crew. I want to share something with you." She messaged the Archive to proceed.

The conference room was suddenly filled with the sound of many voices rising in beautiful, transcendent harmonies. Anyone who had ever heard symphalan singing, even once, could not mistake their throaty, vibrant, exultant tones--but this song was so magnificent, it surpassed even the astonishing recordings transmitted by the Alexandria II following her earlier visit to Dominion. The elder caught his breath.

"This is the signal we received," the ambassador told him. "'The Canticle of St. Francis.' It praises God--for all the creatures he has made, calling them brothers. The entire signal is this canticle, repeated, interspersed with a numeric code."

The elder waited.

"When the Alexandria II was here for the last Archive visit, her researchers noticed disturbing signs in the way the human population treated the symphalans. We do not interfere in local governance, but to preserve the integrity of the Archives, we must know the truth. Prior to departure, the Archivists gave the symphalan representatives a code which they could use to signal us should they ever be threatened as a people. This is the code that preceded and trailed every repetition of the canticle, until the signal was cut off. Your Grace, our records and instruments show there were only ever two facilities on Dominion with the capability of sending interstellar transmissions. One is now a crater."

The man was silent for a long time. Finally, he spoke.

"So you will deny us your updated Archive, condemning us to live with this condition," he gestured to his lips, "on the basis of a song and a secret code from a group of rebels who are long dead and can't even answer for their slander."

"We will not certify you for continued participation in the Archive Exchange," she replied. "We will not give you the tools to lift up future generations of symphalans, simply to exploit and oppress them."

She cut him off as he started to object.

"There are, however, those who believe it is our...humanitarian duty to treat the plague you have unleashed upon yourselves. If it were up to me, I would let you suffer the consequences of your actions until the Pergamum arrives. Others advise mercy. I reluctantly admit your world could use a lesson in mercy."

He started to respond, then stopped and said nothing.

"Our interview is finished. Please return to Dominion. We will withdraw, to prepare for our journey back to HR637."

The elder spun elegantly, his ankle on the handhold, then pushed off toward the door of the conference room. It slid aside to let him out. As he was about to exit, the ambassador spoke once more, causing him to stop himself on the doorframe and look back.

"The symphalans had the final vote," she said. "The 'Canticle of St. Francis' has another great theme--praising God through those who bear up under infirmity and tribulation, and yet still offer pardon. By helping you, we honor them, because as they sang--as you were killing them--they were forgiving you."

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